Archive | July, 2011

I know my strengths. This is not one.

29 Jul

Does anyone have mad skillz when it comes to drop cloths and painter’s tape? I ask because I came home from work the other night to find both items hanging in a plastic bag from my door knob. There was also note informing me that the brick work on my building was about to get repointed, so I should cover my windows to prevent dust from overtaking my home.

Silly me. Standing there, holding the bag, reading the instructions — I was too naive to realize I’d essentially just been told to pick up a turd by the clean end.

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The only place I can be a mouth-breather and a mom.

28 Jul

Why, maybe I *will* floss...

I had a dentist appointment earlier this week. It was a routine cleaning, so the night before, I flossed extra hard, trying to make up for six months of neglect. Sizing up my bloody gums in the mirror, I realized it was too little, too late. Sigh.

This isn’t new turf for me. I get The Lecture every six months like clockwork; I’m convinced dental hygenists take a course titled, “Guilt: The Most Powerful Dental Tool.”

I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid The Lecture,  and thought I had recently stumbled upon the best technique ever, until it resulted in my being called a “mouth-breather.”

This time, realizing that — yet again! — my gums would turn on me faster than a mafia rat, I decided to have my story ready. My eyes traveled around my bathroom. What could I blame for excessive bleeding?

Then my eyes spotted it: baby aspirin. JACKPOT!

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The best laid plans…

27 Jul

Last night I arrived at Holly’s apartment for book club, only to find her in the kitchen, holding a huge watermelon.

“Here,” she gestured toward her laptop. “Look at this site and see if you see anything easy on it that I can make.”

The website featured watermelon carvings that looked pretty professional. “Um… you’re going to try to make one of these for book club?” I clarified.

She nodded. “I hate watermelon. But I thought it would be refreshing. And I could make it look cool.”

“You think you can pull this off in 15 minutes? Because people are going to be here soon and they look kind of complicated,” I was impressed by her ambition.

Again she nodded, then, turning to me, she said, “You know, I think I’ll make a boat and put this pineapple top on it like a tail!”

And as she said this, behind her, in what seemed to be slow motion, the watermelon proceeded to roll off the counter and land on the floor, where it broke into two chunks and splatted juice everywhere:

Kind of looks like a crime scene, no?

“Well, I think that makes the decision easier,” I told her.

“Did I mention?” she responded, “I fucking hate watermelon.”

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In which we turn the bus into our personal taxi.

26 Jul

My friend Liz was in town from Atlanta last weekend, so her sister Lisa hosted a small get-together Friday night. Since it was a white wine tasting party, Holly and I decided to take the bus there together so we could enjoy ourselves without wrapping a car around a tree having to worry about driving.

We both have been exploring the bus system and marvel at how surprisingly convenient it is — once you know where you’re going. The maiden voyage to any single destination can be a bit of an adventure, however, because not all of the stops are included on the bus schedule and the drivers exhibit varying degrees of customer service.

We used WMATA’s “trip planner” and deduced that we needed to get off at Ward Circle. On the way there, I started to have second thoughts, so Holly walked to the front of the bus and tried to ask the driver. “We’re trying to get to Chesapeake Street,” she explained. “Is Ward Circle the best stop?”

His response? “I don’t know.”

WHAT? You’re the bus driver! Presumably you drive this route every day. How do you not know if Ward Circle is the best stop for Chesapeake? (For the record, Chesapeake is cross street, allegedly with its own stop – though it didn’t show up on the schedule – so that’s why we assumed he would know.)

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Corn: It’s a movement. (But not like you think.)

25 Jul

I have a new-found respect for kindergartner’s art skills. Corn is not easy to work with.

So in the wake of my run-in at the farmer’s market, I decided to make corn a dirty word.

This should trouble you on many levels. Let me enumerate count them:

  1. I had a run-in at a farmer’s market. How is this even possible? 
  2. I already swear a lot. Do I need another word in my arsenal? Does a bear eat corn? Probably, if it is hungry enough. 
  3. Corn is a ridiculous word. Is it actually swear-worthy? For the love of corn, yes. 
  4. Really? I was annoyed enough that I need to seek revenge by starting a corn movement? Frankly, yes. 

You know the expression, “Mess with the bull and you’ll get the horn?” Well, my new motto is: Mess with me and you’ll get the corn.

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