Funny Strange....

Fine, thanks!

Just in case you're wondering, my rewrite of Hollywood Car Wash is going well, and I'm on track to be done with the whole edit on time.  I just didn't want to say too much about that for fear of scaring it away, kind of like when you're driving on the 405 going south at 4:00 pm and there's no traffic, and you don't really want to say something like "Hey, wow-- there's no traffic!"  because you know the minute you do, 4,000 people are going to suddenly decide they need something in Long Beach, and they're all going to flood the freeway at the same time, so instead you look over to the other person in the car and go "Hey-- this is a great Peppermint Mocha," so as not to anger the gods of traffic.  Yeah, the rewrite is very Peppermint Mocha right now, if you know what I mean. 

Speaking of rewrites, like-- how long was that sentence?  Frighteningly, one of my English teachers from high school reads this blog, and is right now shaking his head in disbelief.  Hi Mr. Brady!

Why Dontcha Tell Us What Is It......You Do Here?

Don’t ask me why, but one of my hugest pet peeves is the party line of the civil service toady, who clearly can’t think for themselves or try to make the world a better place by challenging absurd rules, so they lazily fall back on ignorant, outdated laws and doctrines, try not to rock the boat, mark their time, and don’t even raise their heads above the collective non-consciousness of their orgnizations to have a real conversation.  That kind of complacency gets under my skin and always has—it’s slovenly, weak, and can even be dangerous at times.  My whole life, it’s really bothered me when people blindly follow rules without even attempting to question them.   This is probably why I work for myself, and why I try to stay within the bounds of acceptable behavior, so I won’t have to spend time dealing with nonsensical nonsense, the likes of which drove Dostoevsky to drink at the office, just to get through the day.

I am, of course, speaking of the shady shakedown I experienced this week, when a city I used to live in charged me an outrageous fee for not having a business license I didn’t know I needed (because, like, I'm not selling ice cream on the street) then refused to even READ the letter of appeal I wrote on my own behalf which indicated this lack of knowledge, and asked the very logical question-- "How does a regular person KNOW they need a business license, if no one tells them?"  I'm sure no one is motivated to answer this question, because if the line of communication were clear, then they wouldn't have so many opportunities to penalize people within an inch of their lives for not knowing something that no one told them, you know what I'm saying?

“Nope, sorry—nothing we can do.”  “Ooohhh….tough lesson.  Sorry.”  Statements like these during the back and forth drove me almost to the brink, and caused my face to be stuck in a look so surly that when Stephan came home from work yesterday, he was like “Wow—that can’t be good.  Are you going to keep making that face?  Yikes!”   

It was at that point that I realized I was probably shortening my own life (and definitely giving myself wrinkles) by dwelling too much on a problem, so I went for a loooong walk and tried to let it go.  But, DAMN.    So…..frustrating!  The last thing I'll say on this is that if you're that person and you work in that office and you Googled me and are now reading this, I think you need a different job, because the one you have is making you accrue bad karmic credit points.  Shame on you!

Aahhhh, now I feel better.  See?  I can let it go. 

On another note, did you hear that Nick Cannon (that kid from Drumline) might have married Mariah Carey?  That is nuts, and here’s why:  Mariah Carey is a 39 year old woman who named her last three albums “Rainbows, Butterflies, and The Emancipation of Mimi,” respectively.  If she’s not the biggest, most high-maintenance, ordering three bowls of hand-sorted pink M & M’s in her dressing room diva, I will eat a bug.  And why any 27 year old in his right mind would want to take that on, I can’t for the life of me figure out.  It has to be a publicity stunt, and I say that because it is no coincidence that they’re starring in her new video together, and that she was just on Oprah promoting her new album, and now their supposed wedding is on People Magazine's website.  I think this all falls under the heading of "no publicity is bad publicity" myself.  Maybe he’s getting paid to just be on “boyfriend tour” with her or something, until the publicity dies down.  Or maybe, if they really did get married, she’ll give him his own room in her three-story Tribeca apartment, where she sleeps in the steam room in order to keep her voice supple.  Yiiiiiiikes!  Nick Cannon!  Run for your life!

What's new?

In case you didn't catch it in the last few posts (or maybe I just didn't say it boldly enough for fear that it wouldn't be real),

I AM FINISHED WITH MY NOVEL!!!!

Now it's official, as at least one of my super-secret readers has finished it and deemed it "great....obsessive!  I read it in five hours!"

Aah, it feels good just saying I'm done.  Two more people are reading it now, and unless they point out some egregious errors (like--"hey, where'd that character go?"), I'm hoping to pass it on soon.  I've never actually had this experience so I might be talking out of turn here, but I totally feel like I had a nine-pound baby.  Dude!

So, maybe you've noticed the nifty little countdown widget to the left, and are wondering what it is!  Well, I'll tell you.  On May 6th, Neutrogena is launching a new beauty networking site called Beautiful for Good (www.beautifulforgood.com), and I'm going to be their "LifeStyle Expert.!"  Definitely go over there and sign up as the launch gets closer-- it's an awesome site, looks great, and is going to be a really fun interface and network.  Also, if you like Funny Strange, you will m ost certainly enjoy this brand of humor when applied to the scary things at the bottom of your makeup bag.  So come over there and talk about it!

Got Plans?

If you live in the Los Angeles area, please join us TONIGHT for a staged reading of Stephan's play "Sex! Death! Violence! Humor! (A Ghost of a Chance)," which will be performed at 8:00 pm at The Blank Theatre in Hollywood.  Here's the info:

SEX! DEATH! VIOLENCE! HUMOR! (A GHOST OF A CHANCE)

Written by Stephan Cox
Directed by Susan Boulanger
Cast: Kate Connor, Andy Hirsch, Deanna Hurst, Megan Malloy, John Thoms

 

Devin Small has a problem: he wants to be famous. On the verge of 40, Devin is a desperately unhappy adult working a dead end job. So he does what anybody else might do. He takes a dinner party hostage at gunpoint, one attended by a television producer (who, unbeknownst to either man, is Devin's half-brother), and forces him to put Devin on television, live. The broadcast becomes an instant sensation, attracting millions of viewers across the country and the world.

There's only one hitch. Devin Small is already dead. He put a gun to his head at the top of the show. And we're only hours away from the worst terrorist attack in US history.

How could this be? Guided by an omniscient spirit named Tophie Sandwiches, we travel back in time to meet beatniks and businessmen, poets and Soviets, through chaos and chance, to the one stark moment in 1933 where it all began. Or perhaps that moment, too, is simply another blip in time, itself the product of a series of events and connections that can be traced back to the Big Bang. In the words of Tophie, "everything happens precisely as it's meant to. Except when it doesn't."

Still Going....

In case you're curious, I didn't end up going to the east coast for work after all, so I'm not at the Martha Stewart taping right now.  But, I might as well be on business travel for all the free time I don't have, since I'm still trying to whip this rewrite into shape before starting a totally different writing job next week (announcement is forthcoming as to what that is!).  Suffice it to say that there's a point in every novel, where it starts to take shape, and the re-working and additional writing feels sort of like you're on the downslope of the hill.  I may be there now;  I will know more tomorrow.   

The only possible explanation for why a rewrite would take this long is that it's intended to be the first book in a series, which means there are ALOT of things to put into place in the first one.  Because you know, there are totally people who write to me on MySpace, and are like "You know that part, in Hollywood Car Wash, when she's celebrating her birthday?  Well, technically, not enough months have gone by, so it wouldn't be her birthday yet, and....."  etc. Fill in the blank.  I'm just saying that readers pay more attention than I think they do, and probably in book # 5 in this new series, they'd be messaging me on MySpace, like "You know that part, in book one, where they were going somewhere in the car?  Um, they're not 16 yet, so that couldn't happen."  Like that.    Or maybe they'd wait and leave it in the Amazon comments of the book.

Also, I seem to have taken a large amount of photos of hilarious food in the grocery store, when I was still in the "procrastination" phase of this book, and not on the "uh oh-- people are waiting" phase.  For instance, did you know that at Ralph's in Brentwood, they have a locked case in the front where they keep vodka and baby formula?  Yeah, they do.  It looks like this:

Are these the two most stolen items at the grocery store, I wonder?  Do they taste good when mixed together? 

Last but not least,  there is an ad about me and Hollywood Car Wash in the latest copies of Writer's Digest AND "The Writer," neither of which I have been able to find on the newsstand.   So-- that's cool!  I'm supposed to be getting copies via Fedex soon, and will certainly scan and put those up here, for your enjoyment. 

Hey, did you know Lindsay Lohan is naked on the internet?

Is it Wednesday already?  I've recovered almost all the way from the flu, though I'm going to be honest, it was rough!  That fever lasted until Saturday (that's an eight day long fever, in case anyone is keeping track), and then all I could do was sleep, as if I was permanently encased in quicksand.  Did I mention my doctor called me on the phone to tell me my WHITE BLOOD CELL COUNT WAS LOW?  Yeah, that "malaise" and "aches and pains" feeling you get when you have the flu is really the feeling of a virus eating your white cells.  So, that's fun.  I now know of two other young and healthy people who got the flu shot, then got the flu anyway.  Watch out!  Wear one of those surgical masks if you have to, dude.  The flu will eat you alive!   It's a zombie flu!

Oh, you did hear about these pictures?  Well, maybe you should go over and take a look.  Because it's not creepy AT ALL that Lindsay Lohan is doing the same poses with the same photographer that Marilyn Monroe did about a month before she died.  Nope, not creepy one bit.  Also, I think it's a little weird that picture # 2 in this series is a montage of the actual Marilyn shoot, so we can all scratch our heads and go "wow, Lindsay Lohan really doesn't even come close to filling Marilyn Monroe's shoes!" or maybe "Wow, the star power of today's stars doesn't even compare!"  Although, maybe I'm missing the point of this photo shoot.  As Stephan said, "Who cares?  You could bounce a quarter off of Lindsay Lohan's ass!"

Also, is it wrong of me to say that I think Lindsay Lohan has WAY too many freckles to do a naked photo shoot like this?  I am officially authorized to speak on freckles and pale skin, and I say-- yikes!   Finally, I don't know why her mom/ manager felt compelled to speak out about how she thought the naked photo shoot was "in good taste" and "artistic."  Like, since when are we taking her word about what's in good taste?

And.... now that I have my wits about me again, I have to go back to writing.  Thank you one and all for your wishes of good health.   

Hey, Guess What?

I have the flu. The flu! How on earth?

As it turns out, even if you're obsessive about getting the flu shot, you can still get the flu! A doctor told me today that the shot is only 80% effective, and since you know I'm a SUPER overachiever and I always defy the odds, I decided to just go ahead and be one of those statistics. In fact, I've had it since Saturday, and am now on DAY FIVE of an absolute high-fever extravaganza. Yes, I went to a doctor (two, actually), one of whom determined I have "Influenza Type B" in blatant defiance of my flu shot. And hey, do you know how he determined that?

Nasal swab. Like, old-school "test the employees at NBC for anthrax right after 9/11" nasal swab. The kind that, even if you're HEALTHY, is not pleasant. After the test came back positive, the doctor was like "isn't it cool that we know why you feel so lousy?" And I swear it was only my constant elevated temperature and lack of energy that kept me from punching him in the face. The night before last, my fever was so high, I slept for TWO HOURS, leaving me ample time to sit up and ponder-- why, when your body needs sleep the most, does it prevent you from doing that very thing? Also, I watched a bunch of episodes of CSI online, so that was fun.

I'm just posting this in case you happen to be one of the people who already know I'm sick, so when these blog posts keep going up, you don't think I'm faking my illness and writing anyway. I am so beyond not doing that. These posts were mostly all written over the weekend, when I was about 125% less sick than I am now, in the days that I am fondly referring to as "When I Could Get Out of Bed," or "When I Could Go Downstairs Without Getting Winded Like a Ninety Year Old."

Once again, special thanks go out to my sweet husband, who is taking good care of me even though he has germaphobia and I know it's hard for him. Big props!

Hey, you asked for it.

Sometimes people email me and they say that they'd rather see MORE blog posts, rather than posts of a higher quality.  I can dig that, and so today, I give you:  a blog post about dog teeth.

A couple of months ago we noticed that Baxter had some bad tartar on some of his teeth and some really foul breath, which I guess I would too if I did this all day and never brushed my teeth:

Since he’s 6 ½ years old and we though his teeth might start to fall out if they got any dirtier, we figured that some dog tooth cleaning was probably in order.  I actually started out as one of those people who brushed their dog’s teeth with the chicken-flavored toothpaste and the long toothbrush, but as I’m sure you can imagine, more pressing things got in the way of this delightful pastime, like how much he really didn’t like it when I stuck the long toothbrush in his mouth, or how he tried to get away from me, or generally how I have better things to do than try to wrestle a dog to the ground in order to brush his teeth for him with some chicken-flavored toothpaste.  He doesn’t want me to do it, okay?  That should tell you something.

But then I took him to the vet for something else, and that vet was like “hey, your dog’s teeth are pretty scrungy,” which I guess is pretty bad coming from a vet.    I wasn’t nuts about the idea of them having to knock him out to do the cleaning, though, because, well, he’s sensitive, and it makes me sad when he’s sick.  So, I might have been putting it off, or waiting for a better solution.

As it turns out, because this is L.A., there is an alternative!  My dog daycare / boarding place just started offering a no-anesthesia tooth cleaning, and I’m not even kidding, it’s like a dog tartar miracle happened.  We picked him up after San Francisco, his teeth were clean, and he wasn’t even traumatized.  I even took a picture on the way home, so you could see the true dog tooth splendor.

Is this more amazing if you know that the fancy L.A. no-anesthesia dog teeth cleaning lady first whips some kind of hypnotic mojo on the dogs to get them to sit still?  Yeah, apparently she has this chair, and she sits in it with them, and then she lasers off all the plaque, and the dog keeps this stoopid grin on his face the whole time.  I'm so impressed with this, I want her to be my dentist.  Honestly, I don't usually buy into these sorts of Los Angeles specific fancy dog things, mainly because Baxter is really big and would look ridiculous in a designer sweatshirt.  Actually, someone at the dog park told me they go to a vet who also does dog acupuncture, but that might be where I draw the line.

Probably not, though.  Did you know we drove the dog cross-country when we moved from New York?  Yeah.  We did.  And it was fun.

So....many....words.....

In case you’re wondering, I’m still in the midst of my rewrite, and have ended up cutting and change so much, I have to add about another 2,000 words a day, which is just BRUTAL.  Also, I didn’t end up going to the White Trash party, so I don’t have any cool pictures of myself dressed up like Britney Spears. I’m just at the point where I can see the book turning into something and I think I’m about to get over the hump and start coasting down the hill, but damn! This project has taken more work than a) I originally thought, and b) the last one took, even though that one was longer. So, go figure. Maybe I’m growing as a person. Anyway, once I’m done writing for the day, the very last thing I want to do is write more. 

Yeah, so now you can see the reason why I've only been updating once a week.  Only eight more days left, though, so soon we'll be back to the multiple time per week funny.

Just to tide you over, I made you this list of "pervy songs about old rock guys who like teenage girls." 

So…what is it with rock songs about old guys who want to date young girls? I mean, we’re all adults, right? Eighteen is pretty young, so I don’t get the obsession with “jailbait.” Like—really, sixteen? Yikes!  That’s a bad R. Kelly!  What do they even have to talk about? 
 

Seriously though-- did you ever listen to one of those songs, and really hear the lyrics? I think if you take them out of their intended context, you will be able to see the funny that I see. 

Let’s start with Sam Cooke, who gives us the charmingly-titled “Only Sixteen”

She was only sixteen, only sixteen, oooh but I loved her so.
She was too young, too fall in love, and I was too young to know.

A great place to start.  This gets me thinking-- why do these aging rockers write these songs?  I know, I know, being in a rock band is all about being a pimple-faced geek who eventually gets rich and famous enough to go back and reclaim all the girls you couldn’t get in high school.  That's all well and good, but when you write a song about it, then I get to make fun of you on my blog. 

Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, “Young Girl.”

Young girl, get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line, you better run, girl. You’re much too young, girl.

Take this guy at his word, man. He’s got a white van with the windows blacked out, and he’s missed his chemical castration shot. This is a scary message, wrapped up in a ballad. Actually, this is a song about a girl lying about being old enough to give you her love, but now you’re going to let her run back to her mama, because you found out she’s jailbait. 

 

Benny Mardones, “Into the Night”

This is a good song to sing along to if you’re driving along, all alone, and switching radio channels. Just don't listen too hard to the actual words.

She’s just sixteen years old, leave her alone, they say.

Well, “they” sound pretty smart, Benny. Maybe you should heed their sage advice.

Separated by fools | who don't know what love is yet

Oh boy 

but i want you to know
If i could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
and show you a love
like you've never seen - ever seen...

Yes, I know. This song is ruined for you now. How do you think I feel?

  I like singing in the car!

Bell

Biv Devoe, “Do Me” 
I actually used to really like them when I was in high school, and if you say you didn’t, that’s fine. It will just be our little secret. But….just so we make sure we have multiple genre represented, I have to point out that even the ex-New Edition guys want to get with some young girls, as evidenced by this clever combination:
 

Backstage, underage
Adolescent…how you doin? 

Wow. Just….wow. Can’t you just see the parachute pants and smell the Drakkar Noir?

 
Action took place….kinda like (come on) don’t forget

 I really appreciate the use of the passive voice here. Stephan would like it pointed out that by using the passive voice, these guys are really abdicating responsibility, like “Hey, action took place—out of my hands, nothing I could do about it.”

I Said Happaaayyyy....Birthddaaayyyyy!

Yes, it was my birthday over the weekend, and thank you for all the well-wishings and such.  Actually, if you tried to call me to sing happy birthday into my voicemail over the weekend, you might have noticed that on Friday and Saturday, at least, my phone did not work.  This was due mostly to the fact that I dropped it about a week ago and made it lose a piece that didn't look that important, until it started a slow deterioration that meant eventually it was still able to ring, but looked like this.

So, first order of birthday business:  get a new phone.  Apparently my birthday mojo was working for me, because I didn't have to wait at the Cingular store, and ended up with a super cool new red RAZR, which looks alot like the one pictured above, only not broken.  So, that was awesome.

Next stop on the birthday express:  manicure/ pedicure, with a latte and a People magazine.  This is the sort of thing I never do, because I'm like "waahhh....it's too much time....I'm too busy....I should be writing."  But, on my birthday, oh, hells no!  I am all about me and my spa massage chair. 

After that my friend invited me over so Maddie could sing me the toddler version of "Happy Birthday," and so they could give me what I think you'll agree is the greatest birthday decoration in the HISTORY OF TIME:  the Hip Hop/ Pimp Birthday Balloon.

Just in case you can't fully comprehend the magnificence of the giant silver balloon, let me also add that when you hit the bottom of it, it SINGS, dude.   Go ahead.  Play the song.

Download 01-14-08_1214.wav (206.3K)

Now, I don't know if that's the real guy from the Sugar Hill Gang singing in the balloon, but you must agree that this is a true masterpiece of tacky awesomeness, made even better by the fact that it was actually the display, and my friend knew I would love it so much that she forced the boy at the party supplies store to sell it to her.   "Give...me....that....BALLOON!"

I don't even want to tell you how many times I've slapped that balloon over the past two days, just to hear the song.  That would make me seem juvenile. 

NEXT, I had pizza and home-made cake, opened more presents, and got flowers.  What could be better?  Oh, at the end of the month I'm going to San Francisco to have another party, because I'm all Paris Hilton like that.

Well, Hello Again!

Yes, I was gone for a long time, and neglected the blog.  I know.  Look, I still can't believe Christmas break is over, ok?  Maybe I'm in denial.  After all, I'm still wearing my fat jeans (OK, I know, whatever my fat jeans are a size 4, and now people are going to start emailing me and calling me Karen Carpenter, blah blah blah).  I'm still trying to download all the pictures off of my camera and go through all the mail from when we were gone, but all in all, we had an AMAZING time in Carmel, saw many cool people, and one day, even stayed up until 4:30 am. 

If you know Cory and want to read about his 40th birthday, or if you just think a photo-essay called "The Legend of Butterscotch" which features a drunk horse might be funny, then maybe you should click here and look at the pictures.      I do have several funny blog posts I'm a'cookin up for 2008, but right now I'm re-organizing, re-writing, and generally re-thinking my "sugar at every meal" habit.

Resolutions?  I'm going to try to think more positively in 2008, write at least 1,000 words a day in addition to this blog, do some sit-ups, and drink more water.  Anyone else?

Hello again!

Here's another menorah, even though Hanukah is over.  I was so entertained by that sushi menorah, I kept taking pictures every time I saw one.  Do you think they ate that one on the last day?  I hope not.

We had a great trip to New York-- never long enough, since we are very wistful that we don't get to spend more time here.  I got a new agent, which I'm so excited about!  We went to a big holiday party last night-- you might known that I have sworn to never blog about my consulting job, so I won't, but let's just say I ate more in one sitting then I usually eat in a week, then followed that up with some dessert wine, champagne, chocolate, and some fancy red wine.   Also, many of my colleagues were drunk, and the conversation turned absolutely blue.  But, that is really all I'm at liberty to disclose.  Tomorrow night we're going to another work-related party, the sordid details of which I will just have to write into another fiction novel.  Ah, the stories I really can't tell....

We're back from NYC tomorrow, then leaving again for Northern California at the end of the week, until the end of the year.  So, I guess that means if you're going to send me a Christmas present, you should get on the stick and do it before Friday!  What the heck are you waiting for?

Oh, last but DEFINITELY not least, UCLA Extension has a story they did about me running on their website, which you can see at:  http://www2.uclaextension.edu/writers/  Hurrah! 

Update from NYC

Well, it's really cold in New York, so I'm not as concerned about global warming as I was when I heard the ice in Rockefeller Center was melting.  We checked it yesterday, and it seems fine.  The tree looks good, the Macy's windows are all decked out, and it is officially Christmas in New York.  Got some great pictures, which I can't upload until I get back to L.A., but when I realized this, I started taking some with my phone.

I think you'll agree, this is the best Hanukah tribute you've seen yet this year:

Yeah, that's a menorah, made entirely of sushi.  This just begs so many questions.  Do they put a new piece of sushi on the sushi-menorah for each new day of Hanukah?  If so, I'm guessing they're not going to let anyone eat it on the last day.  Also, is sushi kosher?  I suppose this would depend on the way they kill the fish, right, or maybe if the fish is possibly prepared in the same kitchen as something that had dairy in it.  Or maybe they don't care if fish and dairy touch.  Also, are there California rolls in there?  Because those have crab in them, and I have it on good authority that Jews do not eat shellfish, especially not on Hanukah.  Or, maybe they can eat imitation crab, better known as Krab, which is what most sushi places use to make California rolls.

Also, we went to MOMA to see the contemporary art exhibit, and I took these photos:

This is Matthew Brannon's "The Never That Lasts Forever" painted on a wall.  I thought it was interesting that people are walking so nonchalantly in front of the exhibit, and it looks like they're being impaled.  Ouch!  Lady, watch out!




Martin Kippenberger's "Martin, Stand in the Corner and Be Ashamed of Yourself."
Oh, how I love the Germans and their kooky self-loathing sensibilities.  OK, we get it!  You guys are sorry about World War II!  We forgive you, already!


There was also hilariously bitter and angry security guard working when we were there, and now I have the beginnings of an excellent short story.  I think it was John Baddessari's video "I Am Making Art" that really pushed him over the edge.  Finally, we saw some lovely people for dinner at Angus McIndoe, which is always good.  I would really recommend the Apple Pot Pie, should you find yourself there.

See, you thought I wasn't going to post the whole time I was gone! 

I Am Distracting You With Cuteness

I was catching up on a ton of work today, and am working on the last bits of my NaNoWriMo novel, and I haven't come up with anything novel (ha ha-- get it?) for today, so I must pull a dirty punch and distract you with this cute picture of Maddie, who passed out while her mom was packing for them to go to Hawaii for Thankgiving.  I will be attending the Family Friendly Programming Awards on Wednesday night, so that should be a very entertaining post in and of itself.  Last year, Judd Hirsch got really drunk, and the cast of Ugly Betty was given an award-- only Ugly Betty herself didn't show up.

 

49er Mojo-- Whipped on even those who buy their tickets

This is a story I'm calling "The Tragedy of the Forty-Niner Tickets."  Or, maybe it's a tragi-comedy.  You be the judge.  It does get pretty funny when it starts to really spiral out of control.

A couple of weeks ago we were like, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool to go see a 49er game?"  I mean, not like the 49ers are doing anything good this year or anything, but like, hey-- we used to live in San Francisco, we never went when we were there, we're both into football this year, so why not?  It could be fun.  We then called up Stephan's cousin to see if he wanted to go.  We were all in.  We made booked a hotel, made plane reservations, got tickets to the game.  The tickets showed up in the Fedex.  We made reservations for the dog to go to his daycare (see how complicated these plans are?  By now, you're just wondering how it can go wrong, right?  Right?)

Right.  Thursday afternoon (we're supposed to leave on Friday night), our friend from SF, the one who we were going to get to take the fourth ticket, goes home from work-- sore throat and flu. OK, we think.  Maybe Steph's cousin will have to sit next to a stranger.  No  problem.  No problem.  It's ok.  Nothing's going wrong.  But there's nothing we can do about it.  Too many plans have been made.  The stakes are too high.  The first domino has fallen.  This is like that moment in Oedipus the King where the blind seer comes on, and he's like "Hey, there's something weird about this place," but all of the townspeople ignore him
because he's just a crazy old guy.  Yeah, it's just like that moment.

Friday morning Steph wakes up with the sore throat.  Now, as I've already mentioned, the Voice of God can't get a cold, or else he can't go to work.  So....what do we do?    We postpone the flight until Saturday, prraaaying that the sore throat goes away, because there's no way he's flying on a plane, then sitting in a freezing cold stadium, probably only to watch the 49ers lose, especially if he's actually sick.  I change all the reservations, blah blah blah. Then, at 6:00pm, which is right about the time we would have been leaving if we were leaving on Friday, I realize I have the sore throat.

More scrambling ensues.  We decide to Zicam the hell out of ourselves, then see how we feel in the morning.  Then Steph's cousin emails to say HE has the sore throat. We don't feel better in the morning.  Reservations are canceled.  Since they are the only ones now who have escaped the freaky sore throat, Steph's parents are called.  Do they want to go to the game?  Yes, they do!   We Fedex the tickets.  The parents get to the hotel Saturday night.  OK, this is ok-- this is still salvageable.

But, wait!  Sunday morning we get a call.  Where are the tickets.  There are no tickets.  WHAT?  We have a tracking number, we say.  Is this a joke?  We get the name of the ACTUAL person at the hotel who signed for the tickets, but that guy works two jobs and is not picking up his phone.  Perhaps he cannot hear the phone over the din of the 49er game that he is now attending, having obviously stolen our tickets, I say, not quite kidding.  The hotel is offended.  I am offended that they are offended.  I start to yell.  They start to yell.  I yell louder, then send some nasty faxes.  I adopt the tone of the aforementioned Greek tragedy, and begin to screech like a harpie into the phone.  Steph mentions that maybe I should have my own reality tv show, where I go around firing people who don't even work for me.  I actually consider pitching this show.

The tickets are lost.  The hotel is reeaaallly sorry for losing them.  And by really sorry, I mean, they gave us enough stuff that we will definitely stay there again, and I am actually not going to mention their name here.   The sore throats are gone (except for the SF friend, who is still horizontal).  I got alot of work done on my NaNoWriMo novel over the weekend.  The in-laws had a nice afternoon in San Francisco despite not going to the game, which as it turns out, the Niners lost.

THE END

Hey Lori, How's NaNoWriMo Going?

No, seriously, it's going really well. I have ALOT of transcription to do, but I've been working on it every day.

Tidbits

** My father (a Republican) has purchased a Toyota Prius-- something I thought would never happen, would assuredly mean either the end of days, or dogs and cats living together.  He'd like you to know that he's not going to be wearing Birkenstocks while he drives his new car, though, and he's not growing a ponytail.  So, I guess he's safe, and they won't revoke his Republican card.

*** Today I was sitting outside of Starbucks, writing, and a firetruck pulled up and parked in the red zone.   "How rude," I thought. "Taking up the whole curb, just so they can all get coffee."  As it turned out, though, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM had dry cleaning they had to pick up.  So, that's not weird at all.  I guess that justifies it.

***NaNoWriMo word count:  approximately 13,000 words, mostly all hand-written in Composition books.  If you're wondering how I estimate this, I use the following formula:  300 words per page X about forty pages, give or take about 100 for doodling and to-do lists.  Scientific!   Yeah, that's going to be just great to transcribe.  Jim gave me a copy of Naturally Speaking, but I can't get the microphone on my computer to work the right way, so I think I might be stuck doing it myself.  Or, I could take the leap into the information age and just learn to write straight into the computer, like the new-fangled folks is doin'.

***Twice this week, I've had conversations with people, tried to tell them something, and they're like "um....yeah, I know.  I read it on your blog."  So, now I have to think of random, totally secret facts to tell my friends. 

*** My husband does not seem to like it if, when he's cooking me dinner, I stand there and go "um....is that done?   What's the expiration date on that?  Is that too much garlic?"   You'd think this commentary would be helpful, but apparently it's just annoying.  Go figure.

Halloween Post: Better Late Than Never

Whoops, I had this post saved as a "Draft," and then I never published it.  Probably because I just started National Novel Writing Month today, and that's just crazy.  Why do I do this to myself every year?

Oh yeah, because I like it, and because I'd be writing anyway.  Why not get the neat little certificate?

We were busy and traveling this year, so we didn't do much of anything Halloween related, but I thought I would report that our Gene Simmons Pumpkin from last year won an award!   You can see it displayed over at Extreme Pumpkins.com.  Too funny!

In "my heart is made of stone" news, I thought I would distract you with photos of Maddie as the Littlest Ballerina, which made even me consider for one moment, the possibility of having children:

Of course, that was before I saw this:

I actually think it would be funny to compile a whole website of kids crying in their costumes.  Because you know they're all doing it, right?  Before the fun of trick or treating really sets in, kids are basically ALWAYS in some kind of costume.  Hilarious!

What's New?

We've already covered my strange obsession with Costco, right?  I find it so amazing that you can get fro-yo, beer, and a flu shot all in the same place, and then get gas right before you leave.  It seems like I end up over there once a week, which I'm sure is costing me more in gas than I'm saving, but that is right beside the point.   Last week's Costco visit was to get some new contacts, and it was during my appointment that I discovered what has got to be one of the strangest jobs in the whole world.

Did you know that they HIRE A PERSON to sing on the karaoke machine in Costco?    Yeah, the demo one.  So basically, this is the guy you THINK might be crazy because he's singing just a little too loud at Costco, right beside the flat screen tv.  I'm not sure whether this is a cool job for an aspiring singer, or the last step before suicide for someone who used to be famous.   Even more tragic is the fact that the optometrist, who is already vying for "worst doctor job ever" in a windowless room inside Costco where he goes "which one is better-- one, or two?  one, or two?  one.....or two?"  ALL DAY LONG is forced to  listen to the KARAOKE GUY.    As it turns out, on days when the PAID KARAOKE PERSON is there, the optometrist is forced to listen to him sing the same karaoke cd over and over and over again.  Which, frankly, would be enough for me to quit that job right there.  I learned all this while the Costco optometrist was searching his inventory of contacts for a TORIC lens that was just the right prescription for my football-shaped eyeball.

Also, the Mischa Barton Forum people are still mad at me, and for some reason they think I'm a guy.

We Are Fine....

In the "neither funny nor strange category," thanks to everyone who has sent an inquiry regarding our safety and well being!  We are fine and haven't been affected by the numerous fires and/ or windstorms going on in Southern California.   We don't know anyone who has had to evacuate yet, and in fact the only thing we've noticed so far is alot of soot in the air.  So, for now, all is well!  Will let you know if anything further develops.

Also, if you're reading this and you're in one of the areas that are burning right now, stay safe!

What's Going On, Culwell?

I know, I know, when I don’t post for a few days, you’re like…”what the hell, Culwell?  I look forward to my daily Funny Strange, and then you let me down.”   As explanation, I can only offer up the fact that when I get to New York City, I am overcome by enthusiasm and want to do every single thing that there is to do.  I don’t know if you know, but NYC is like my favorite place in the whole world; sometimes I feel like my whole L.A. life is just where I work, in preparation to go to New York and hustle.  Because that’s what I end up doing the whole time.

Here is a brief list of things I’ve done since I’ve been here (not in chronological order)

Meeting (Bar Piti) | Documentary Film Premiere | Pizza Slice | Kara Walker Exhibit at the Whitney | Pizza Slice | Walk through central park | Production of Hamlet by the Pearl River Company | Magnolia Bakery cupcake | Book Meeting (Noho Star) | Walk from West Village to 12^th Avenue | Work Meeting | Agent Meeting | Meeting | Agent Meeting | Lunch meeting | Train to New Jersey | Meeting | Dinner | Meeeeeeeeeting| Rutgers Football game

I’m flying back tomorrow.  The radio show is cancelled this week, as Stephan is recording a video game. 

By the way, I've received many interesting emails since I mentioned "Trapped in the Closet."  I simply can't believe that everyone knew about this phenomenon, and didn't tell me.  Let's be clear-- "Trapped in the Closet" is the type of thing you're DEFINITELY going to want to tell me about, should you happen upon something like it in the future.

Winner: Monthly Giveaway!

The winner of the monthly giveaway of an autographed copy of my novel, Hollywood Car Wash, is Erica from Staten Island!  Congratulations, Erica!

To enter, all you have to do is subscribe to Funny Strange by entering your email in the box to the right, or send an email to offers@hollywoodcarwash.com!

Tidbits

I have been busy re-working a YA book I'm pulling together, so I haven't had alot of time for the regular funny.  Sorry!

Here are some tidbits.  Mostly, things start out this way, then get developed into whole posts.  Sadly, right now they are just sitting in my brain, waiting in line behind "go to the eye doctor," "finish new novel," and "walk the dog."  Because you know, the dog requires alot of attention.

**Over the weekend I was in CVS picking up a prescription, and I noticed this little item:

Yeah, that's a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, Elvis Anniversary edition.  It's got bananas, and peanut butter, and chocolate.  You know why?  Because Elvis loved peanut butter and banana sandwiches, because he was fat.  FAT!  And I'm just here to be the one person to point out the fact that on the 30th Anniversary of his DYING OF A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE HE WAS SO FAT, Reese's has put out a candy totally dedicated to his fatness.  Next, they'll be issuing a Kurt Cobain commemorative shotgun. 

No, really--- these might be delicious.  I just don't care for room-temperature fruit filling anywhere near my chocolate desserts.  And I wanted to point out that it's a little sick to have a commemorative candy dedicated to someone who died from being so gosh darn fat.  Maybe it's just me.

*** I had a great time doing the panel at the West Hollywood Book Fair.  I also met this writer, who was also on the panel and was cool.  Now I am reading her book, Party Girl.  Good stuff!

*** A couple of years ago, I didn't get a flu shot because some insane woman at my doctor's office told me that if I was young and healthy, I should "save the vaccine for the old people" (her words, not mine.  My mother always thought 'old people' was a disparaging term, so she trained me to say 'older people,' which I still say to this day).  As a result of not getting the flu shot that year, I had a fever of 103 on Christmas.  So now, every year I am the very first person in line to get the shot.  Like, I will push an 'older man' out of the way to get it.  That's how much I hated having the flu.  I am only mentioning this because now every place I go to get the shot has a waiting list, which I think is just stupid.  Why don't they ever make enough?   I mean, can't they just reasonably assume that no one wants the flu?   You better believe I am getting that shot, even if I have to go to another state to do it. 

*** Did I mention that some crazy people at NowLive have given Stephan and I our own radio show, based on this blog?  Oh yeah-- it's called "Funny Strange Live," and you can listen to it on your computer on Fridays at 1pm Pacific Time, right here, which would be great, because then you could call or text in, and that would make the show much funnier.  This week's show is called "Pull Yourself Together," and it's based on the fact that I recently had to tell a woman to keep her voice down in Costco because she was SHOUTING ABOUT DIARRHEA MEDICINE.  Good Lord.

Emmy Madness

I know, I know, I haven't posted anything in awhile, and right after I got you to subscribe and everything!  Well, I have sort of a good reason this time-- I got totally sucked into Emmy madness.  I've been trying to come up with a post that accurately captures all the inside glitz and glamor of the Emmy Awards, and finally I've arrived at this.

The Emmys.  Were.  AWESOME!  I wasn't nominated for an Emmy and therefore didn't win one, and my seats had "obstructed view," if you catch my drift, but this did nothing to obscure the awesomeness of the Emmy ceremony.

After my last post on Thursday, I spent the whole day on Friday looking for dresses, because I had only tried on five zillion of them, which wasn't nearly enough.  Finally I found one (long and black, in case you're wondering-- I'm still waiting for my friend to send me pictures). 

Saturday I just blatantly ignored my blog because I was so darn excited about the Emmys, and also, I had to leave my house at 3:30 in the afternoon, and I had alot of things to do before then, like get ready, get a manicure, break out some old hot rollers and aerosol hairspray (because, who CARES about the environment-- it's the EMMYS).  That night I went to a pre-Emmy reception where I met some very nice (famous) people, then had a fancy dinner at AGO.  Then I went home, because Emmy day starts early, baby!  Early!

Bright and early on Sunday morning we went to Frederic Fekkai, because we didn't want Heidi Klum looking better than us. 

I don't know if you know this, but the Emmys start right at 5:00, which means you have to get picked up at 2:00 in the afternoon and wait in a limo line behind the people from the Daily Show for about an hour, looking at the window at picketers with signs that say "Death to Television Fornicators," who are clearly people who just couldn't get Emmy tickets. Because why would they say these things about television if they could be inside, observing the sheer awesomeness?

Our seats were on the first floor, sort of on the back by the door, so we could see everyone who was going in or out.  And, in case you were watching, we were on the side of the Shrine Auditorium that most of the show was directed toward, since the disastrous "theater in the round" concept was implemented and the casts of "Ugly Betty" and "Boston Legal" had to see most of the presenters' backs.

Here are some other highlights:

*** I'm sure you figured this out, but Sally Field said "If mothers ruled the world, there wouldn't be any God Damn War," and they bleeped her. 

*** Yes, Heidi Klum really is that good looking in person.

*** James Spader's joke about "stealing money from the mafia" was due to the fact that when the presenter said "James," we all thought she meant Gandolfini, and the whole Sopranos cast stood up to applaud.  When she said "Spader" again, there were at least thirty seconds of stunned silence.  That is why James Gandolfini's face looked weird when they zoomed in on him.

*** Hugh Laurie is taller than you would think. 

*** Is there any doubt left as to whether Christina Aguilera is pregnant?  Because if there is, let me add my opinion to the consensus.  She totally looked like it from where I was sitting, and her voice is AMAZING in person.

** The dinner at the Governor's Ball was filet mignon and mone barrow flan.  Yes, I said bone marrow flan.  I actually took a small bite of it before I realized it was made of marrow, and it tasted like regular flan.  Also, regarding the dessert, it was chocolate mousse, and I think I was the only woman there who actually ate their dessert.  At least, this is what I surmised when we were walking around after dinner, and every table I saw had every dessert untouched.  Because if you want to be that skinny, there is no way you are eating chocolate mousse.  And, as a skinny person, allow me to just say HOOOOO -WEEEEE some of those girls are skinny.  Like, they haven't eaten chocolate mousse in fifteen years skinny.

Continuing in the theme of Hollywood Awesomeness, Today I had a meeting with a person on the PARAMOUNT LOT about HOLLYWOOD CAR WASH, and then I ran back home to write it all down and report it.   Tomorrow I'm going to Washington DC, and I'm sure I'll have some more amusing things I remember about the Emmys that I remember by the time I surface again on Friday. 

If you have individual questions about the Emmy Awards, which were awesome, send an email or post them in the comments and I will be happy to answer if I have anything good to tell.  I also have another big Hollywood Car Wash-related announcement coming up in the next couple of days, so stay tuned!!

Just to Clarify

Apropos of nothing, from last week's "Eight Random Facts" post, there seems to have been some question as to whether or not I actually like cats, just because I'm allergic to them.  Let me set the record straight here:  personally, I love cats.   Every time I see a cat, I want to scoop it up and plop it in my lap.  Sometimes I actually wish I could have a cat instead of a dog, because a cat would be so much easier on my schedule and would require much less time spent in dog parks that REEK of hot urine, and also less time in the actual action of bending down and picking up poop, then carrying it to a trashcan.

Unfortunately, my immune system does not share my love of cats, and so, ten minutes after one so much as brushes against me, I get a twinge inside my nose, which then makes me rub my eyes, which makes my eyes start to water, which makes me rub them more, which then very effectively spreads the cat dander up into my mucous membrane, which then makes me start to wheeze.  The sum total of this is always my poor husband having to drive me to the store to get some Claritin, which of course I don't have with me, and my face being swollen up like a potato for the 48 hours it takes for all the fluid to drain out so that I don't look like I was involved in some sort of accident or heavyweight championship fight.  Sometimes, I rub my eyes hard enough to give myself a black eye, and that's fun too, because people tend to REALLY believe that you have a black eye because you're so allergic to cats that you tried to rub your face off.

This is ironically coupled with the fact that cats LOVE me, as if they can smell the fact that their hair, or dander, or whatever it is that gets up into my nose, just kills me.   Because you know the minute you're not supposed to touch a cat, THAT's when the cat is all over you.  Cats who are totally anti-social are all over me, jumping on me, rehabilitating their surly personalities to crawl into my lap.   And once they're there, I can't just ignore them, and that's when the terrible cycle of itching, sneezing, and me clawing at my own eyes begins.  Believe me, if there was a way to own a cat and to not have this happen, I'd be all over it.  I tried the allergy shots, and they barely made a dent in this problem.  I practically have to carry the Epi-Pen in case I encounter a cat.

So now, every time Stephan sees this, he then goes "yeah-- do you have Claritin?  Remember last time?  Go wash your hands." 

Special thanks to Rachel for the photo of her lovely cat Mags. 

Happy Anniversaraaayyyy....From Us To You

Today is Stephan and I's NINE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY.  Dude!  Nine years seems so long to me-- if our relationship were a child, that child would be able to do things like answer the phone and take a message, attend the fourth grade (or whatever grade nine year olds are in-- remember, we don't have kids), and maybe be decent at an instrument and know what they wanted to be when they grew up.   If our relationship were a bottle of wine, that wine might actually be aged to perfection by now.  And if we were a Hollywood couple, we'd receive some sort of meritorious service award.

Really, it seems like only yesterday we just met, and then we were getting married, and at the same time, it seems like we've been on this one great big adventure for a long time.   In fact, Stephan and I have been together for so long, I almost don't remember what life was like without him, nor would I ever want to.  Maybe I've blocked out the "non-Stephan" years.

In honor of this auspicious event, I dug up this positively ancient photo from a trip we took to Spain in 1999 or 2000, which just proves that we were mere babies when we got married, and what made us think that we knew so much about life?

I guess we just knew, like you know with a good melon.  And so here we are, ten years after we first met (on the MUNI train in San Francisco), and nine years after we said our "I-Dos" on a pier in Sausalito, then had a big crazy open mic and a buffet to celebrate.   

And now, in honor of our anniversary, I give you:

EIGHT RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MY HUSBAND

1.  He has uniquely colored eyes (see photo).
2.  Some say he has psychic chef abilities.
3.  He does a killer Spongebob Squarepants impression.
4.  He is a descendant of the people who brought you "Scrubby & Lloyd's" in San Luis Obispo.
5.  Prilosec makes him sneeze.
6.  His favorite Muppet was Ernie.
7.  Horseradish and all products containing horseradish piss him off. 
8.  He thinks Cy Twombly is an overrated hack.

Philosophical Conundrums of Insurance Nonsense: A Radio Play

A few months ago, I read something about the cervical cancer vaccine, and literally RAN to my doctor to ask for it.  Because here's the thing.  If you put the words "cancer" and "vaccine" together, I am there.  I don't care if you're vaccinating against a type of cancer that only people who live in Zimbabwe get, or cancer you can only get by jumping out of buildings, or even penis cancer or cancer of another organ I don't have.  I love science, I think vaccinations are awesome, and I want no part of cancer of any kind, so I will gladly get whatever they have, whenever they have it. 

I got the shot-- technically, it's a series of three, and just last Friday I got the last one.   So, now I'm IMMUNE TO CANCER.  At least one kind, or at least the vaccine that causes one kind.  So, that makes me feel kind of like a superhero.

Here's where the funny comes in.  My doctor's office warned me this might happen, and frankly, I could give a shit, because it's CANCER VACCINE, but I just thought I'd pass on this tidbit of bureaucratic foolery.  My insurance company TOTALLY won't pay for the cancer vaccine, because (get this), I'm TOO OLD to have gotten it in the first place.   Yeah, my doctor didn't think I was too old to GIVE ME the shot, but the insurance company won't pay, because they have a "window of time" where you can get it, and I'm outside that window.  Like I said, I could care less because I'm healthy and have the money to pay for the vaccine, but just so they knew I objected, I called and talked to an extremely dry woman at the insurance company about how lame I thought this policy was.  Here's an excerpt from our conversation, which became progressively more absurd the longer it went on.  By the way, the photo above is NOT an actual likeness of the insurance company lady who dissed me, but she does look like she's hiding corporate secrets, so I thought it would do.

Me:  So.....I see here on my statement that you're not paying for me to get the vaccination for cervical cancer?

Insurance company lady:  No ma'am (see, she had to throw the ma'am in there, to remind me that according to them, I am old.  OLD!)

Me:  OK, but you do understand that actual CANCER is more expensive than this vaccine, right?

Insurance company lady:  Yes, but technically, you shouldn't be getting that shot.  It's for people within a certain age range. (ouch!)

Me:  Right, but if my doctor thinks I'm healthy enough to get it and feels comfortable administering it, shouldn't that override your policy?

Insurance company lady:  Um.....no.  We have guidelines in place for vaccinations, in order to stop loss.  It's how the insurance company works. (see, now she's educating me, AND calling me old)

Me:  But...don't you think these things should be on a case-by-case basis?  I mean, that seems a little arbitrary, and technically, I'm not THAT much older than the guideline.

Insurance company lady:  Policies aren't decided on a case-by-case basis, ma'am.  That's why they're policies.  (again, she thinks I'm old....and stupid)

Me:  OK, say I go to a foreign country and adopt a child who's had no immunizations, and yet is of school age.  I have to get him or her the vaccinations in order to enroll them in school and to live in this country, and yet, since they're technically too old to GET the vaccinations, your company wouldn't cover them?  (SNAP!)

Insurance company lady:  Nope.

Me:  WHAT?  Are you sure about that?  Is there someone to whom I can write a letter of appeal?

Insurance company lady:  About your unvaccinated, adopted child? (She actually might NOT be being sarcastic, I can't tell over the phone).

Me:  What?  No!  I meant that rhetorically.  We're still talking about me being too old for the cancer vaccine.  Ok-- what if I hadn't had chicken pox yet?   Since they didn't MAKE that vaccine when I was within the age window to get it, could I get it now?

Insurance company lady:  (Sighing) Probably not.

I wonder how many times per day this woman has this highly philosophical conversation.  I did end up writing a letter, just to express my concern about this seemingly iron-clad policy, which I think is stupid.  But again, I could care less, because now I AM IMMUNE TO CANCER, dude!

Carmel Weekend: A Photo Essay

So, after buying the house, and moving into it, and getting rid of half of our stuff, I must confess, I was sorely in need of a break.  I was starting to not even find funny things funny anymore, which is a definite sign that I need to unplug for awhile.  Of course, the solution for that is to stay in a house where the view looks like this:

Steph's parents live in Carmel, and his high school best friend married his cousin (Steph's cousin, not his own cousin--oh, just go with it, because there is no grammatically correct way to explain), so we've all been friends for ten years now, and seeing them is really fun.  We were going to take a trip to Chicago for his birthday, but we ended up being happy for the break.

Halfway through driving up there, I noticed this sign-- just a hundred miles outside of L.A., and a complete and total lack of irony!
There was probably a better way to put this.

So, we get up to Carmel, where I swear the whole town is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  On the way to dinner, I noticed this car, which was a certain indicator we weren't in L.A. anymore. 

Yes, this is a carseat full of cash, checks, and a Blackberry, just sitting out there for any wily thief to grab.  In fact, the door is probably unlocked, but since it's Carmel, it's totally ok to just leave it there, because in fact, all the cops in town were right down the street-- having a hoedown. 

Maybe there's not alot of crime in Carmel because they have signs like this one:

I love how they distinguish "roller skating" from "roller blading," like "be sure this sign encompasses anything that rolls."

Next, we go to dinner at the same restaurant where I stole the mug last Christmas.  This restaurant apparently makes me commit crimes, because I left my sunglasses there, and when I went back to get them the next day, the hostess went to the lost and found and came back with this pair. 

When she asked "Are these the glasses you lost?"  I thought for about a second, and then said "Yes, they are"  They weren't my glasses, but they were nicer than mine, and I really needed sunglasses.  Plus, it's Carmel, dude.  These were someone's spares anyway, and now they're mine.

This is Steph's other cousin (and future Poet Laureate) Josh, along with a can of "Chelada" which I got him as a gift.  Chelada is a beverage consisting of beer and clamato juice, and I think the general consensus is that it's a terrible idea to mix beer and the juice from shellfish. 

We all tried it, and actually, t's not that bad if you hold your nose and sip it, but it's ALL OVER if you smell it first.  I'm not sure why they're making this product, but apparently some time and commitment went into the packaging.  Yikes.

After a few more days of sleep and food, we took the dog to the beach, where he joyfully played with a much-younger yellow Lab until he was exhausted and filthy, and where I got actual photographic evidence of the fattest pug in existence.    This dog's name is "Lucky," and when Steph heard this, he said "Lucky....as in Lucky to be alive?"

Steph's parents then threw him a really lovely birthday party, where I ate enough cake icing to kill a small pony, or maybe a diabetic horse.  Then I sped home yesterday to catch up on work and let in the guys who were putting in my shutters, the final house project that needed to be done. 

Tomorrow:  photo album of the new place!

Moving: Defcon Five

Further move update:  There were some large bookshelves in the garage, and we noticed one of them was coming apart, so we made the executive decision to leave them outside for someone to take, and just replace them.

That was 23 minutes ago, and now they're GONE.

For the past couple of weeks people have been going "wow-- you bought a house!  you're moving!  you must be soooo excited!"

And I'm like "yeah-- totally-- um-- yeah-- once everything gets unpacked-- yeah-- uhhhhh."   So, basically I sound weird and crazy, and like I'm an android who is not capable of feeling the emotion called "excitement."  Because who wouldn't be excited?

The problem is, not only am I trapped in move li