03 Jul, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Travel
Or Wauwatosa. But it’s close. We got here around 8pm last night, arriving in our fashionable Kia Rio. Sub-compact is how we roll when our normal mode of transportation (my 2001 Ford Escape) isn’t really up to road trip par right now.
We drove around the area last night for a while looking for a place to have dinner. Our original plan was Mo’s Irish Pub, which is super close to our hotel. We pulled up and noticed they were busy, which was a good sign. We drove around in search of a parking spot and decided to look for a different place to eat when we realized the place was blasting Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies” over the patio sound system. Beyonce isn’t Irish, fools. C’mon!
Today, we’re off to the Milwaukee Public Market, a tour of the Miller Brewery, and then we’re heading out to Lake Michigan to hang out with Rick, Brooke, and the fam to watch the fireworks tonight.
Right this very second, we’re watching 15 Most Notorious Women on the E! channel.
01 Jul, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Lists
- Funny thing? I’ve lost 15 pounds over the past three months without really trying all that hard. It doesn’t sound like all that much, but here’s the funny thing — it makes me no longer morbidly obese and I’m no longer eligible for weight loss surgery. The latter wasn’t at all something I was considering (too scary, plus I like cheeseburgers, pizza, and soda pop too much), but it’s kind of a monumental number when you’re trying to knock some of those rolls off your body.
- All of our dogs and The Boy are at The Boy’s Dad’s house right now. He’s watching them all while The General and I go to Milwaukee tomorrow (and for the weekend). It’s way too quiet in here. Like creepy quiet. Our fish aren’t nearly as needy as those damn dogs.
- Between The General and I, we’ve managed to take on enough freelance work the past two weeks to pay for our hotel room, a rental car (the Dead Hooker/Lucky Number Seven is getting old and wobbly), and all the gas we’ll need. I’ve been tired as hell and way behind on Intervention reruns, but it’s kinda cool to not have to worry about all that.
- I’m very excited to spend the weekend in Milwaukee, both to show The General around the city and hang out with Rick, Brooke, and the mafia again.
- I’m working a half day tomorrow. It was originally supposed to be 8-12, but then I mentioned that I was probably going to work 7-11 instead. My co-workers do not believe I’ll make it there by 7, so I’m going to try to get there at 6:30 JUST TO PROVE A POINT. And then you can be damn sure that I’m leaving at 10:30!
30 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Local
Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting at my desk working on some freelance stuff. The General was out on the porch spending some quality time with the laptop and open windows. The Boy was trying to find a flashlight so he could find a book that was under his bed. Suddenly, it sounded like the 4th of fucking July in our backyard. The houses in Northeast Minneapolis are fairly close together. We couldn’t really see anything out the windows; we could just hear shit exploding relatively closeby. After reading this article today, I decided to investigate since I didn’t feel like finding a new place to live.
I went downstairs while the dogs were going ballistic, headed out the back door and noticed one of our downstairs neighbors was in the front yard. It wasn’t him and it sort of looked like he was doing the same thing as me - trying to figure out who the hell was about to burn the neighborhood down. About the time I was walking into the alley, the Giant Turd that lives next door comes flying out of his back door asking screaming at me to find out if I’m the one lighting fireworks. (Dude, I’m 31 fucking years old and it’s a work night. I have a 12 year old child upstairs. I foster animals for Pete’s sake. Do I fit the profile of shooting off hundreds of fireworks in the middle of the 10 o’clock news by myself with no audience to impress?)
As much as I would have loved to answer with a myriad of words The Boy isn’t allowed to say, I just answered with “No” and I’m just it was in a very unfriendly way. He responded back again in his sweet screaming tone: “Then quiet the fuck down!”
I’m sorry. Did you just tell me to quiet the fuck down, sir? I can’t remember what I said exactly, but I’m pretty sure it bordered on “Jesus Christ, you crazy fucker”. And then he went inside and slammed the door. This is the same guy that chased me out to my car within a month of us moving here to tell me I needed to “Clean the fucking shit out of the backyard” before he called the cops.
His house is for sale. It kinda makes me want to do things like shit on his sidewalk anytime there’s going to be an open house. I can make sure he doesn’t get the $299,900 he’s asking for his crappy house.
24 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Misc.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve been reminded that I hate to sweat. A lot. We reside on the second floor of a duplex that was built… a long time ago. In the winter, we were rarely cold, because a) hot air rises and b) we have this ridiculous furnace that could probably heat all of Northeast Minneapolis. It was nice. And then summer got here.
I don’t know what the deal is, but we cannot get our apartment to cool off. It probably doesn’t help that fact that a couple of weeks ago, something happened with our hot water heater that involved standing water in the basement. That situation finally got taken care of last night at some point, I think. Maybe Friday night. I can’t remember. But since the whole hot water heater fiasco materialized, it’s felt like a fucking sauna up in Unit #2.
The humidity in our entire house has felt like something from Missouri. And you Missouri folk know that stuff is not pleasant. Lately, it’s been 63 degrees at night, but we’ve been sweating like whores at church on Sunday when we try to watch such class programs as She’s Got the Look and 147 and Counting, or whatever that Duggar show is called.
Right now, on our back porch, it’s like a lovely Minnesota summer morning. But I can guarantee you that come noon if I were sitting on the couch watching Judge Judy, my clothes would be sticking to me in places that were not meant for clothes to be sticking. My hair would look like I’d just showered, except I can promise you I wouldn’t smell like it.
We’ve gotta get this whole humididty, sweating off 8 pounds a day thing under control. It doesn’t help matters that the wiring in the house only allows us to plug in one of our air conditioners at a time without blowing the electricity for the entire second floor… with the exception of the bathroom, of course.
I don’t mind being warm all the time, but when Mama wakes up in a pile of her own sweat, Mama’s not happy.
The Boy turned 12 at the end of May. After many, many in depth conversations between The General and I, we ended up getting him a cell phone for his birthday. The biggest pro for me was that we don’t have a landline, so anytime we leave The Boy at home alone, we have no way to get in touch with him and, really, he has no way to get in touch with us if there’s an emergency. I don’t know how much a landline costs, but I know that we got his phone for free and we’re only paying $5 more per month to have him on our cell phone plan. And, we can see everyone he calls and texts, which is pretty much safer than a landline anyway.
We wound up getting him the Samsung Gravity, which comes complete with a camera and a QWERTY keyboard. He’s already taken full advantage of our unlimited text and photo package. On Friday, I got six different messages while at work ranging anywhere from “Wassup dog” to “What are you doing”. For the most part, he keeps busy texting me, The General and his dad. He also has a Flickr account (which I can give to you if you want to email me and you’re not a psycho), which has proven to be quite interesting. Most of his pictures turn out something like this:
Why, yes, that is a picture taken of his TV while he was in the midst of playing Kingdom Hearts. Or maybe Kingdom Hearts 2 - I can’t keep track, but I do know they’re releasing a Kingdom Hearts 1.5 in a little while and he’s dying to get his hands on a copy of it because his favorite character is in it… Seriously.
And, then, every once in a while I’ll get a surprise picture message from him that will be something as adorable as this:
And then I don’t get so irritated about the text messages that tell me what episode of Roseanne he’s watching while I’m on my way home from work.
20 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Misc.
-
Ugh. Now who's going to step up? This could be interesting.
-
Doogie/Barney is going to make the cutest dad ever.
-
"Although I may not understand, I will strive to be understanding. The one thing that will never change is my abiding love for my child." — Dear Cher, You rule. Except for that whole "If I Could Turn Back Time" video. But this makes up for it.
-
Really, Kelly Kapowski? Sorry you're so busy doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE. This also explains why I still love Jimmy Fallon so much.
19 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Misc.
-
We'll have Ruby, our foster dog, in Wayzata at their Day of Dogs, Tails by the Lake event on Saturday from 11:00 - 3:00. There are apparently "pooch-friendly activities all around town".
-
18 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Misc.
-
Can we just not trade Big Al? I have an Al Jefferson bank on my desk at home and if they trade him, I'll have to smash it.
-
This is my favorite weather site ever. I don't care if I've already shared it. Right now, it says "72! It's fucking nice and thundering. I can't believe it's not porn!" Who needs weather.com anymore? Not this girl.
-
I'd held off even thinking about buying Sims 3 until I read this. Now I need it stat. (link via Willis)
-
From Chili's with the purchase of any entree. I just like sharing free chips with everyone, that's all.
17 Jun, 2009
Posted by: Wendy In: Misc.
-
I really hate that Twitter is becoming this reliable source for news stories. But I do love that Kevin McHale isn't coming back as coach of the Wolves next year, if it's true. But maybe K-Love was drunk Twittering. That happens a lot!
-
Hey, quit calling the 4 year old the owner, because he's not. It's his dumbass parent(s) who left him alone in the bathroom with a small puppy.
