Archive for February, 2010

February 27th, 2010

Today, we started spring cleaning. Our house smells so much cleaner, and we generally feel better about living here (again). I walked out of the bathroom after scrubbing the tub and said to manfriend, “I just want to say, right here and now, that I’m a domestic fucking goddess.”

“More like a domestic werewolf,” he replied. “Every full moon you clean like a beast.”

February 21st, 2010

I hate bloggers who think that because you visit their site, they can tell you really gross stuff about themselves, things they haven’t really typically done before. Like, they get daring and want to wow you with their ability to talk about poop. I’m not that kind of blogger. This entry is about my pee, and that’s an important distinction.

So at 3 am, I wake up and realize I have a bladder infection. While peeing, I call my doctor, get a prescription called in to a 24-hour pharmacy, and my superhero boyfriend gets on his bike and rides over to pick it up. For the first time ever, I also get this stuff called phenazopyridine, (google it), that does little else except turn my pee dayglo orange. It’s a dye that’s supposed to limit the effects of a bladder infection, the burning, the constant need to pee, all of that, while the antibiotics do their thing. keep reading »

February 18th, 2010

My book is slowly but surely unfolding into what I sincerely hope will be a most exciting and fascinating tale of adventure, tragedy, humor and humanity. Yes, there will be sword fights. Yes, there will be dashing heroes (and heroines). There will be beer.

I don’t know how else to describe this process, except to recall the printed out quote my mother had taped to her filing cabinet in her office when I was a child. It was by Gene Fowler, and it went like this:

“Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood keep reading »

February 13th, 2010

Hey, do you like fish? Do you ever order fish at restaurants? Have you ever been asked this question when ordering? We had a server today who asked me, “How do you want your [grilled] fish cooked? Rare?”

No, I don’t want raw fish. Fish, depending on what it is, needs to be cooked differently, and I expect the chef to know that. The first time I was asked this question I sort of stared at my waiter and said, “I don’t understand. Just however the chef would ordinarily prepare it. That’s what I want to shove into my mouth.” keep reading »

February 13th, 2010

There is something to be said for drunken encounters, and while getting philosophical-drunk last night, I’m pretty sure I proclaimed that beer was the great unifier. While walking down one of the little streets in Philadelphia, it’s inevitable that you’ll be waylaid by other drunk people standing outside smoking. This is precisely what happened last night.

One of these people was Bill. Bill and I got to talking:

“I like your… I like your…” he gestured towards my chest.
“You like my scarf?”

He nodded sadly.

“A cruder man would say he liked my rack, but you, sir, are a gentleman. I like my scarf too.” keep reading »