3 things that made my day today....
1. Sean Penn won best actor. This man is incredible. He's definitely in my 'people I want to meet box'
2. After wasting many precious minutes scouring the internet, K and T informed me that the intro song to the sex and the city movie is by Fergie... I found it, and I'm not ashamed to say I've been listening to it on repeat for most of the night.
3. We are no longer homeless.
As I approach this major shift in my life, the naive part of me is taking over, imagining a perfect little apartment, wooden floors, white walls a little courtyard... OH wait. that's not naivety, it's reality.
K and B (and inevitably T) are moving to a new location. Watch this space.
B xx
Monday, February 23, 2009
Lord won't you take me away from this place?
So the Oscars were cheap and nasty. More about that later.
Thank goodness real estate distracted us.
Unfortunately right now though, I find myself pining for SF.
Really.
The only time I felt complete is when I was essentially that man in the picture outside the BoA... Opposite is a Starbucks and they have cream cheese danishes. I get on a bus at the stop where the man is waiting, and the bus takes me up a hill, past a rabbit house and a fire station and drops me at 22nd and Hoffman. And thats where I sit. On the hill. With finecuts and a margarita, waiting for my nails to dry. Then I listen and watch - feel the fog on my face while the Bay whispers to me. I close my eyes to see. Too often.
With the beginning of class upon us, home never seemed so far away.
See you in a year Sutro, i'll never leave you again. Promise.
Love T
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"He Ripped Her Face Off"
Hello, hello Police?? Hurry Please! My chimpanzee is ripping my friend apart.
Are you joking? Who the fuck has a pet chimp, who is actually like a human and watches youtube when he's bored...
I'll tell you who: a sad lonely lady in America. Travis was her only companion. She said Travis:
Travis was like a jealous bf and didn't like her spending so much time with
her friends. Travis got mad one day and took matters into his own hairy
hands.
No shit bro. I could have told you that and the closest i've ever been to primates is like... far away.
What sucks is that Ms Herold actually tried to kill her beloved pet with a knife, stabbing him repeatedly to try and stop him from tearing the limbs off her friend. Traumatic. Ms Herold probably didn't realise that her stabby rip stab stabs were aggravating the chimp even more.
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/world/news/article.cfm?c_id=2&objectid=10557625&pnum=2
I shake my head at you Ms Herold. Shake. My. Head.
Yours in disapproval
T
Are you joking? Who the fuck has a pet chimp, who is actually like a human and watches youtube when he's bored...
I'll tell you who: a sad lonely lady in America. Travis was her only companion. She said Travis:
"couldn't have been more my son than if I gave birth to him"WHAT THE FUCK
Travis was like a jealous bf and didn't like her spending so much time with
her friends. Travis got mad one day and took matters into his own hairy
hands.
"Don Mecca, a family friend from Colchester, New York, said Ms Herold fed the
chimp steak, lobster, ice-cream and Italian food. Travis brushed his teeth with
a dental water jet, logged on to a computer to look at photos and channel-surfed
television with the remote control."
"Colleen McCann, a primatologist at the Bronx Zoo, said chimpanzees were
unpredictable and dangerous even after living among humans for years."
No shit bro. I could have told you that and the closest i've ever been to primates is like... far away.
What sucks is that Ms Herold actually tried to kill her beloved pet with a knife, stabbing him repeatedly to try and stop him from tearing the limbs off her friend. Traumatic. Ms Herold probably didn't realise that her stabby rip stab stabs were aggravating the chimp even more.
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/world/news/article.cfm?c_id=2&objectid=10557625&pnum=2
I shake my head at you Ms Herold. Shake. My. Head.
Yours in disapproval
T
grumble grumble.
part a.
So, over the past few weeks I have been contemplating different stages of friendship. The concept of friendship has changed drastically over the past few years, and I believe it is thanks to facebook/myspace/any other virtual communicative tool.
Facebook, a place where people you have met once (or in some cases not at all) can with a click of a mouse become your "friend." They then have the power to watch you converse with your other friends, look at photo's of you, and judge your personality based on what your top 10 movies are. Not only that, they can upload terrible information/photos/videos of you which can affect how your real friends view you.
Now in general I am not someone who cares what people think, but for the first time since using these websites I have come to the conclusion that they are simply an avenue for people (who dont have the balls in real life) to torment you.
also uploading photo's of you in your undies is not cool. That's so myspace.
part b
being indie does not make you cool
being in a band does not make you cool.
you are not cool.
except some of you are
B xx
rant over.
So, over the past few weeks I have been contemplating different stages of friendship. The concept of friendship has changed drastically over the past few years, and I believe it is thanks to facebook/myspace/any other virtual communicative tool.
Facebook, a place where people you have met once (or in some cases not at all) can with a click of a mouse become your "friend." They then have the power to watch you converse with your other friends, look at photo's of you, and judge your personality based on what your top 10 movies are. Not only that, they can upload terrible information/photos/videos of you which can affect how your real friends view you.
Now in general I am not someone who cares what people think, but for the first time since using these websites I have come to the conclusion that they are simply an avenue for people (who dont have the balls in real life) to torment you.
also uploading photo's of you in your undies is not cool. That's so myspace.
part b
being indie does not make you cool
being in a band does not make you cool.
you are not cool.
except some of you are
B xx
rant over.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Suffer the little children.
A family friend once told me that nannying in itself was a form of contraception, that I should be paying her for all the protection I was getting by looking after her children. This piece of advice has particular resonance as I desperately try to prevent the Preg. I have been to a number of health professionals, been on every form of birth control and nothing works for me. People warn you of the dangers of sex; the diseases you can catch, the emotional repercussions and so on. Actually, sex is a hassle. How can it be romantic and spontaneous when you're fishing around for your diaphram or bleeding 28 days out of every month from an injection that could potentially cripple you? Bring on the man-pill. Until then, babies appear to be doing the job quite nicely.
As a nanny, I am required to take Darling Child to requisite extra-curricular activities to improve social skills and balance left and right sides of brain et cetera. Today's trip to Mummy and Me Dance Class was particularly arduous as I nursed the hangover of a lifetime, but we arrived perfectly groomed, ready for a morning of FUN! Two songs in, I had a bizzare, out of body experience. It may have been due to sleep deprivation, I'm unsure, but had I not been tired perhaps this moment of clarity would have passed me by.
It all started with the song. 'Wiggly-Woo'. Taken out of context, it is a harmless children's rhyme; 'It's all a bunch of wiggly-woo, wiggly-woo, you can do it TOOOO!'. Instead, the hall was filled with the sound of forty moronic mothers singing along with gusto, complete with hand actions and gooey grins. This time, the overwhelming desire to vom came not from the tequila shots the night before but from this scene playing out before me. I could feel hysteria creeping up, but that would make me just as bad as them, I decided. Instead, my mouth became a yawning great casm as I indulged in my Carrie Bradshaw 'I couldn't help but wonder' moment.
Who were these women? This wasn't fun they were having with their children. This was desperation. Trying to make the best out of an awful situation. To my left was a woman who clearly had not had her hair trimmed since 1998 , and to my right, I was greeted with an ass crack the size of Texas. At first, I defended them, like all good sisters should. Maybe the relationship with her hairdresser ended badly. And god knows how hard it is to lose that baby weight. But no. Said womens children were of school age, or kindergarten at the very least. I get that when you become a parent, the child becomes the priority. Hell, that's what all good parents should do. But completely losing who you are in the process? I wondered who these women were BC*. They would have done all the things we do; buy inappropriate and draw-droppingly expensive outfits, laugh with their girlfriends over things guys had said to them, dance on table tops. Of course, this cannot last forever and having children means a total lifestyle change. I just find it inconcievable that women would be willing to sacrifice a sense of humour, a genuine joy for life and pride in one's appearance for another, child or otherwise. Those things make up who I am. Who you are. So, for now at least, someone is finally getting through to my ovaries. The chilling rendition of nursery rhymes and the sea of regrowth have taught them not to count their chickens before they hatch.
K x
*Before Children.
As a nanny, I am required to take Darling Child to requisite extra-curricular activities to improve social skills and balance left and right sides of brain et cetera. Today's trip to Mummy and Me Dance Class was particularly arduous as I nursed the hangover of a lifetime, but we arrived perfectly groomed, ready for a morning of FUN! Two songs in, I had a bizzare, out of body experience. It may have been due to sleep deprivation, I'm unsure, but had I not been tired perhaps this moment of clarity would have passed me by.
It all started with the song. 'Wiggly-Woo'. Taken out of context, it is a harmless children's rhyme; 'It's all a bunch of wiggly-woo, wiggly-woo, you can do it TOOOO!'. Instead, the hall was filled with the sound of forty moronic mothers singing along with gusto, complete with hand actions and gooey grins. This time, the overwhelming desire to vom came not from the tequila shots the night before but from this scene playing out before me. I could feel hysteria creeping up, but that would make me just as bad as them, I decided. Instead, my mouth became a yawning great casm as I indulged in my Carrie Bradshaw 'I couldn't help but wonder' moment.
Who were these women? This wasn't fun they were having with their children. This was desperation. Trying to make the best out of an awful situation. To my left was a woman who clearly had not had her hair trimmed since 1998 , and to my right, I was greeted with an ass crack the size of Texas. At first, I defended them, like all good sisters should. Maybe the relationship with her hairdresser ended badly. And god knows how hard it is to lose that baby weight. But no. Said womens children were of school age, or kindergarten at the very least. I get that when you become a parent, the child becomes the priority. Hell, that's what all good parents should do. But completely losing who you are in the process? I wondered who these women were BC*. They would have done all the things we do; buy inappropriate and draw-droppingly expensive outfits, laugh with their girlfriends over things guys had said to them, dance on table tops. Of course, this cannot last forever and having children means a total lifestyle change. I just find it inconcievable that women would be willing to sacrifice a sense of humour, a genuine joy for life and pride in one's appearance for another, child or otherwise. Those things make up who I am. Who you are. So, for now at least, someone is finally getting through to my ovaries. The chilling rendition of nursery rhymes and the sea of regrowth have taught them not to count their chickens before they hatch.
K x
*Before Children.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
KTB Panel Time...
'He's Just Not That Into You'... Are we going to take it seriously?
Has it become the new KTB video bible...?
It's about girls needing guys. The only cool guy is the one who figures out he needs a girl. Meanwhile theres a sleazebag husband who sleeps with Scarlett Jo, who is also a sleazebag (but very convincing and even though we hated her character... please... honestly... being a sleaze and then trying to find comfort elsewhere to fill the void, fucking everyone over including yourself and being left with nothing... more believable than a random bartender giving a shit about you and giving you dating advice, or your bf of 7 years marrying you on a boat in a white shirt).
Overall, without the fairytales, it is possible to take the movie seriously. KTB are lucky that we have cool heads on our shoulders and can realise the difference between reality and dreamland (T happens to live in dreamland and ignores reality- thats a whole 'nother kettle of fish). Unfortunately, ridiculously idiotic females probably would see HJNTIY and still expect HRH Mr. Right (LLB BBCOM) to drop from the sky and in some kind of a daze fall in love.
He's in a daze because he hurt his head.
Remember this. Theres nothing worse than a girl pathetically bending over backwards to score or keep a guy. The daze is not because of you, you silly twit. Unless its Bon or Dan. Because clearly they are in dazes which are ethreal and glorious.
If you ever forget we'll remind you.
T xx
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Always up for a swim and a good spoon
You ladies have summed it up nicely...
The weekend was filled with tequila-drenched proclamations of love and amazing KOL covers. If this had been me a year ago, this blog would have been laced with regret and shame. But now, surrounded by the incredible beauties that are K and T, our adopted children and one very short velvet dress, I have never felt more content with my life.
B xx
The weekend was filled with tequila-drenched proclamations of love and amazing KOL covers. If this had been me a year ago, this blog would have been laced with regret and shame. But now, surrounded by the incredible beauties that are K and T, our adopted children and one very short velvet dress, I have never felt more content with my life.
B xx
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