Friday, October 29, 2010

What A Neighborhood Drugstore Receipt SHOULD Look Like

So, lucky(?) for you, I have found an iPad that lets me quickly and easily draw over images. This means that I now have lots and lots and lots and LOTS of photos to show you. Not that any of the photos are good, but most of them are funny. I mean, I think.

Like this one:
I love this found receipt for many reasons.

For one thing, buying liquor at the drugstore is so...novel! In Connecticut (where I grew up), this was absolutely unheard of and impossible. You could buy hard booze at the liquor store ONLY. Beer and wine could be purchased at the grocery store, but ONLY at the grocery store.  And you couldn't buy booze after 8 p.m. anywhere (not including individual drinks at a bar), or on Sundays or holidays at all. So picking up some (good!) gin at CVS is kind of amazeballs.

Another thing I find fascinating: Why did the purchaser select two entirely different sized bottles of the same thing? Were those the only two bottles left? Were the gin bottles going to two different places?  If so, which place got the bigger bottle?

Also, if you are buying two bottles of gin, do you actually need Nyquil?

(Although, and I mean this affectionately, this does suggest that the Nyquil is for a sick man, and the gin is for the woman having to deal with the sick man. Just my experience.)

Which reminds me: this is one of the best videos ever. It's called "Man Cold."

Sunday, October 24, 2010

That Time I Wrote About Sports And Penises

 
What Brett Favre is really wondering...


If I were to do a thoroughly thorough detailed thoughtful exhaustive blog post about sports, this would be it. Ready?

The SAN FRANCISCO Giants are going to the World Series!!!!!

First of all, I need to emphasize SAN FRANCISCO because I am from the East Coast and whenever anyone talked about The Giants they meant the New York football team and I spent a LOT of my first year in the Bay Area utterly confused about why San Francisco cared about a NY football team.

Anyway. The Giants in the Superbowl World Series is really very exciting because my husband spent the first part of baseball season moping and mumbling about the fucking Giants, much in the way he mopes and mumbles about the fucking 49ers and the fucking asshole Denver Broncos. Because he loves those teams very much.

Then all of a sudden the Giants started not completely sucking, and the next thing I know I'm learning about how there's this pitcher named Brian Wilson who is not THAT Brian Wilson, duh*, but who has this wacky dyed-black beard. Then Ish started teaching Eve how to say OOOOOOOOOO as in "Uuuuuuuuuuribe" and then Buster Posey and Cody Ross became household names. Like, in OUR household. And now Ish has not only grown his "playoff beard" but he's threatening to dye it black.


*"Brian Wilson? Like, well, not THE Brian Wilson, right?"
"Are you actually asking me if the Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys is playing Major League baseball?"
"Um, no."

So yay for the Giants! They seem like really nice guys and underdogs and they've distracted my husband from the misery that is loving those fucking asshole Broncos.




The OTHER thing I know about sports is this: No. I would never ask Brett Favre to text me pictures of his penis. But in the hierarchy of pictures of penises I've been sent -- and I've placed ads on Craigslist, so I have seen my fair share of penis pics -- his would have to rank top. You know?

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Ultimate Family Vacation, Anyone?

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Cheerios® is giving you the chance to win a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, your ultimate family vacation. As part of a paid promotion for their “Do What You Love” Sweepstakes, Cheerios® is sponsoring my post today about what my ultimate family vacation would be. Read mine, Enter the Sweepstakes for a chance to actually win your own fantasy family trip or one of a bunch of other great prizes.

I know. I've been posting like, once a week and the last time I was here I was all LET'S MAKE OURSELVES LOOK LIKE SPARKLY JERSEY GIRLS so what could possibly be more aligned with that than a post about my ultimate family vacation? But this posting opportunity calls, and I must listen.

The truth of the matter is that right now, this very minute, no vacation seems like a good idea. I learned on our trip to New York + this summer that a vacation with a barely-toddling baby means a lot of time spent in silent, dark hotel rooms while your child tries to nap in a strange place and you can't so much as sigh loudly (let alone go to the bathroom) because if you wake her, she will NEVER nap and that just means bedtime will be 5:30 p.m. and you know? That's not exactly fun.

So my ultimate family vacation takes place in another year or two or three or four. (I don't know. You tell me: when is the best age to start taking your kids on vacation?)

Regardless of when, I want to go back to Disney World.

Yes. I also want to go to a ton of actually cultured places with history and interest (Prague comes to mind), but, well. Disney.

When I was growing up, Disney is the only place we ever went on family "vacation." We'd take the odd weekend trip, or visit Nantucket or family in the Midwest, but Disney was something we'd wait years to go to. We'd plan. We'd wish. We'd aspire. And then, finally, we'd go. With my best friend's family. And even though trips like those were rife with tensions -- 9 people with tremendous expectations is a lot of pressure for a family vacation! -- they were exceedingly memorable and basically the best thing I ever experienced as a kid.

I can't wait to give that experience to my own child.

What's more, though, is that I don't just want to take Ish and Eve. I want to go with my sisters and their kids. I want to go with my best friend and her kids. And my best friend's her mom, who is like a second mother to me. I want to go from our motley crew of 9 to our second- and third-generation crew of 14 and 15 and 16...

Nothing could possibly make me happier.

But what about you? Where would you go?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
Here is the part of my post where I WOULD show you, in pictures, what a fantastic time we had at Disney World the handful of times we went. Except all of the photos are still in photo books and scrapbooks and frames and SLIDES, and have not yet been digitized. 

Therefore, I give you the most random assortment of photos from WDW EVER, because I happened to have these shots on the computer for reasons I can't possible explain.

Here is a picture of my mom in Disney Land from the 60s. I don't know why she was there or who she went with. But um, here she is! In a Disney photo. With Doc! You're welcome.



Here is my sister, Healy, and Emily's brother, Taylor, on the monorail.
I don't know why they are wearing masks, because I'm pretty sure this WASN'T the year we were there for Halloween.


The day before we went to Disney for the second time, we all got our hair done.
I got my first perm (it was 1986). My sister, Healy, got a "pixie" cut, and spent the
entire time we were in Florida explaining to strangers that she wasn't a boy.


Above, Healy and my sister Sam with the Imagination guy outside of the
Captiain EO (with Michael Jackson! In 3-D!) movie/attraction. The dragon's name is Figment.

Here, the kids pose in front of the Tiki statues in Adventureland. We have probably just come from the Tiki Room, which is a horrible, horrible place where automatron birds screech jungle-bird songs at you for an hour. My mother made us go, and we have never forgiven her. I hope wherever she is, she's reading this.

For those of you keeping score, that's Healy on the left. Next to her is me, the dork in the giant t-shirt and -- could it be? -- acid-washed jeans and giant white sneakers, adorned with a perm, standing a full foot taller than Emily, who is next to me (I have not grown since I was this age). Next is Sam in a fashionable suspender combo (Sam was perpetually better dressed than I) and Taylor, barely putting up with the girls' antics.

Here we all are, in 1988. I don't know what to tell you about the fashions. I was 13, and yes, that's a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt and jean jacket with 900 pins on it. My dad is the guy in the yellow shirt and my mom is the tannest of us all, in a Minnie Mouse t-shirt standing next to me, Healy and Sam.



Don't forget to enter the “Do What You Love” Sweepstakes, for a chance to win your own ultimate family vacation. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

The Perfect Man: A List

I don't know if you're watching Jersey Shore. I have you assume you are, though, because I cannot for the life of me figure out why anyone wouldn't be.

Actually, well, wait.

FIRST OF ALL, I find Jerseylicious the single most compelling show on television for reasons I cannot begin to fathom.  It's kind of like Jersey Shore, but with fewer STDs and more animal prints, and all set against a backdrop of a hair salon, so there's some vague purpose for the cast to exist.

Also, Jerseylicious provides you with a widget that allows you to Jerse-a-cize yourself, which makes it win.

Gorgeous!

Please click on that photo and Jersey yourself up and then leave me a link in comments and I'll post all the images. (Let me know if you want me to link to your blog/site if you do!)

But anyway. Back to Jersey Shore.

Every time anyone on the show opens his or her mouth, it's pretty much the worst thing you've ever heard anyone say, ever. Not one substantive thing has been uttered by any of the cast, and that is the whole point. Society? Hell? Handbasket? Yes. Yes. Yes. But man, is that ever one sparkly basket!


On the last episode, Snooki was lamenting (uh, my word, not hers) her lack of boyfriend, and so she decided to make a list of the kind of guy she's looking for. Ostensibly (me again) on the idea that if you put your wants out into the universe, the universe will provide.

I wish I'd had Snooki around when I was single-and-looking. Imagine how much help this list could have been! Online dating profile? IT HAS ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN. 

Dear Invisible Internet Friends, if YOU are single, your search has just gotten easier. Because I now present to you the things Snooki, our Everywoman, wants to find in a man. I daresay the list is even in order of importance:
  1. Tan
  2. Guido
  3. Juicehead
  4. Gorilla
  5. Big sense of humor
  6. Likes to party
  7. Fistpumps and frolics
  8. Isn’t a jerk-off
  9. A dork at heart
  10. Smells good
  11. Pays for meals
  12. Nympho
  13. Likes pickles
  14. Takes an interest into my hobbies
  15. Not so serious
  16. Protective
  17. Romantical
  18. Likes to sleep in
You come to this blog looking for advice, right? Well, much like the universe, I'm here to provide.

Saturday, October 02, 2010

And Now You Know WHY You Should Be Following Me On Twitter

This must be the most brilliantly designed, most scientifically accurate, most magic-encrusted feature in existence today.

Did you know that on the Twitter iPad app, when you go to look at someone's profile, there's now a gorgeous piece of code that adds: "Similar to kristysf"? And then it gives you a list of celebrity and non-celebrity people on Twitter who are likened to you? By some flawless algorithm?

So, yeah. People who aren't following me on Twitter? You're stupid. Because you know who I am EXACTLY LIKE?

In case you can't read that list, it is, in order:
  • LovelyButton
  • joelmchale
  • Pink
  • Oprah
  • taylorswift13
I KNOW, RIGHT!?!?

Like, okay. LovelyButton is someone named Sarah from Michigan. I don't know or follow her, I don't think anyone I know is following her, she doesn't have a blog, and so, whatever.

She Tweets a lot about having fun and has a delightfully loose grasp of things like spelling and grammar.  Example:


Naturally, she has over 30,000 followers.

So when you're all, Um, Kristy? LovelyButton is nothing like you, I can be like, SHHHHH. You don't know what you're talking about. I Tweet about having fun ALL THE TIME, and I ALSO have a zillionteen more followers than I deserve.

And then you might point out that Sarah once Tweeted that she "wants fried chicken" but is "going to work out instead" and then you might say, "YOU HAVE NEVER DONE THAT IN YOUR LIFE." And I would be all, FINE. THIS BUTTON GIRL ISN'T IMPORTANT, LET'S MOVE ON TO JOEL MCHALE.

And THEN I would be all, Joel Fucking McHale, bitches! Just because he gets paid to be funny on television doesn't mean his tweets are better. And you know what? Twitter knows it. Do you think Joel McHale looks at his "Similar to joelmchale" list and thinks, "Crap. They're catching on to Kristy's hilarity. I'd better continue to ignore her before she gets snapped up by The Soup."

You bet your ass he does.

Next we have Pink and frankly, I don't have enough time to explain all the ways in which Pink and I are similar. Lord knows that when I've envisioned writing my #1 singles, I include lyrics about kicking ass and punching people in the face. And that's just where our similarities begin.

As for Oprah? Well, come on. I mean, did you miss my tweets about that time I gave a woman with missing limbs a new house?

And finally, Twitter is sophisticated enough to have used avatar-recognition software, right? Because everyone's always telling me how Taylor Swift and I could be sisters.  Twitter's just gone and made it official.

Friday, October 01, 2010

The Kind Of Thing I Should Be Blogging About

Eve is walking now.  It started officially about mid-month, and has only accelerated since. Everyone told us that our life would never be the same, and I suppose that's true, although once she learned how to pull herself up on anything within arm's reach -- including very displeased cats -- we've been in remove-everything-waist-high-or-below mode. Crawling with lightning speed + pulling herself up on everything isn't much different from walking, panicked-parent-wise.

She's not very verbal. I mean, she makes noise and babbles and yells and occasionally does one helluva pterodactyl impression, but she doesn't have an extensive vocabulary that I know of. She understands plenty, of that I'm sure, but she's not repeating much. Which is perfectly fine by me because I am certain that once the floodgates open, she won't shut up.

It's inevitable.

Eve will not say "dada" but she will CHANT "daDUH! daDUH!" for minutes on-end. For the record, "Mama" has no such enthusiasm attached to it. I will, if pressed, get a "mamamamama" but those murmurings are few and far between.

She will meow.

She will say "banana."

She will answer "yeah" to things, but I'm not sure she means it.

She will do the sign for "more" if you ask her to. She will clap and high-five, and do "SO BIG!"

If you ask her where her nose is, she will point to it. Which is adorable and makes her seem kind of smart, until you ask her where anything else in the world is, "Eve? Where is your foot?" "Eve, where is the Eiffel Tower?" and she will also point to her nose.

She is a tiny little thing, still. She has itty-bitty feet and stubby legs. (I WONDER WHERE SHE GETS THAT FROM.) All her clothes fit poorly. Anything sized 12-18 months means they'll be too long, but anything smaller isn't wide enough in the waist or thick enough in the arms. We do a lot of pants-cuffing and sleeve-rolling.

Side note: Did you know that I actually had a pair of my yoga pants hemmed? That should tell you a lot, both about my height and about my commitment to wearing comfortable black clothing.

Mostly, Eve continues to be a wonder-child, in that she's still just great. She eats well, she sleeps well, she's fun and funny and she loves music and she and her six teeth are very healthy. 

She is just starting to test her boundaries.

For instance, she knows she is not to climb the stairs, so she'll go over to them, look directly at me, and put one knee on the first step. And then grin. She gets the same grinning glint in her eye when she decides she wants to "pet" a cat, which we try only to let her do when closely monitored because "pet" and "smack" are not distinctions she's interested in learning.

She also hates having her hair in pigtails, and when she's had enough of playing nice, she'll look me squarely in the eye, pull her pigtail holder out and put it in her mouth.

Two days ago, she was buzzing around the kitchen and suddenly plopped down next to the cat bowls. She knows perfectly well that we do not like it when she plays in the cats' dishes, that she's not allowed to eat cat food, and that we really don't like it when she tips the cat dishes over for the purpose of spilling kitty kibble everywhere. But she likes to do it anyway. (Let's face it: it's fun.)

She grabbed the bowl and looked at me.

I said, as sternly as I could without yelling or sounding cross, "No."

She turned the bowl upside down.

I repeated calmly but even more firmly, "No. EVIE, NO."

And then she smiled and put her finger on her nose.


video

 This video is in no way "special," just a few moments captured at the end of the day.