Friday, March 4, 2011

She's got electric boots mohair suit

My feet shouldn't smell like Doritos, right? Not even Cool Ranch Doritos.

I just slipped off my moccasins and was overwhelmed with the smell. I guess it's time to retire them. Not even baking soda has absorbed the odor reminiscent of spin the bottle kisses in someones basement.

For the first time in days, maybe even more than a week, I didn't leave the house yesterday. Well, I did step outside to hang the wash on the line and to fill the bird feeder on the deck, but otherwise, I was like the dog behind the invisible fence - barking at the neighbors, the television and my ringing cell phone, but not crossing the property line without being struck momentarily dumb by electric current. And I'm a quick learner so it only happened twice.

Yesterday it was me and the TV and a fight with the cat with whom I must race every morning to make the beds before she settles into her 6:38 a.m. - 10:15 space next to Nate's pillows. The fight between the cat and me was a draw, by the way. The bed was made and the bite she delivered didn't break the skin. It was a warning bite. If she weren't 13 in human years, I would have given her a tap on the nose and a sharp-tongued rebuke. Instead I gave her the ultimate insult. I talked to her in the baby voice and pet her on the head.

Because I've got obvious masochistic tendencies, I mainlined MSNBC in the morning and again in the evening. At some point, the lunacy that is our national political landscape got to me. I sought solace in chocolate bread pudding and red wine. Good thing I took my Prilosec this morning. And worked out on the elliptical yesterday afternoon.

I'm reading Matt Taibbi's Griftopia so watching MSNBC is a delightful bit of cognitive dissonance. Take this morning. Someone got the bright idea to exhume the corpse of Jack Welsh to talk about unions. You know it's bad when I miss Mika. Who told her she could take Fridays off anyway? What's she doing - working on her book that's going to be released this spring?

I did feel a little sorry for Andrea Mitchell who was on earlier this morning. Taibbi calls her husband Alan Greenspan the Biggest Asshole in the Universe in the chapter about Greenspan's development as a Deep Thinker under the tutelage of the brilliant Ayn Rand.  Bring me the head of John Galt. I need to scrub the toilets. Anyway, poor Andrea. I mean, it's one thing to marry the guy who helps engineer the wrecking of the world's economy, but have you seen Alan Greenspan? Talk about a pity fuck gone awry.

Yesterday evening, MSNBC ran a segment about Rush Limbaugh's defense of a Republican State Senator who called the protesters in the capitol slobs. Rush Limbaugh did funny voices and called the protesters slobs and long-haired, pot-smoking hippies. Uhhhhh, Rush? Find a mirror and then call your Narcotics Anonymous sponsor, okay? You and the whole looks/drugs thing = glass house. Bad idea, my friend.

I talked to the television and it talked back. It told me about the awesomeness of BP and Chevron and all the good they do for the world. Then came a story from Ameriprise and how people can fix their problems and have fabulous retirements. It all sounded so glorious and wonderful and amazing and as Louis CK will tell you, no one is happy. Me? I'm just looking forward to living the high life on Social Security. Good thing my stockpile continues to grow. Yes, I'm tracking expiration dates. Why do you think I don't have time for blogs and social media anymore? Managing inventory is time consuming. By the way, we may have crossed the point of no return on Advil. Need any?

While watching the evening shows and drinking wine on an empty stomach (pre bread pudding), I got noisy. Poor Sophie retreated to the quiet and warmth of her closet with pillows and a flashlight to finish reading a book. Later, when I asked her why she was in there, she told me that I was disturbing her with the loud TV and even louder commentary.

"On a scale of 1 - 10, how much was I disturbing you?" The wine was wearing off and I wanted to appear concerned.

She looked up at me from the closet floor, considering her answer carefully. "I'd say a six. You were loud and kind of crazy, but not Augusten Burroughs' mother crazy."

That's what I get for letting her listen to Running with Scissors with me in the car. She's accurate though. I was loud, a little too passionate in my response to the television, but I wasn't whipping up a dinner of cigarette butt sandwiches, was I?

I am pleased to know that from now on, I won't be the only standard for crazy around here. I've got Deirdre Burroughs to lean on and you bet I will. These kids give me a bit of trouble and I'll be threatening to find my very own Dr. Finch and we'll see how they like that.

Their therapist has asked me to not use the abandonment card to manipulate my darlings, but this is war, right? I've got to use whatever means necessary to stay one step ahead of them. As if. They're already so much smarter than me. And better looking. They should take pity on me and move over because I could use a safe haven in the closet, too.

"So you haven't sent an SOS text to the Department of Children and Family Services then?" I asked.

"No. I'll just write about in my journal so I can write a book someday," she said. "Can you shut the door now? I want to play a game." She showed me her iPod Touch.

Fair enough. And I take back what I wrote about Mary Karr. Maybe she kept extensive journals.

Unrelated to the TV, I screamed for the first of many times in the coming weeks. And no child was a target of my shrieking. It was phobia induced. Now that I'm hanging wash on the line, I'm going to have to banish this bee phobia. Today as I strolled out with a basket of wet laundry, one of those big bumbleturds aka Carpenter Bees rolled up in his Escalade and gave me a grin.

Cue the scream, the dropping of the wet laundry, the cartoon like spinning of my Dorito-scented slippered feet and the scramble off the deck with the door slamming behind me.

No one except the cats was around to see it. And the cats aren't easily phased so....

Someone get me a sandwich. Cigarette butts or dryer lint. I don't even care.

Do you have phobias? Talk to the TV? Expect a response? Faceplant in some chocolate bread pudding? What's your metaphorical closet floor?


  1. Talk to the TV? HA! My husband wishes I talked -- it's more like screaming every argument I've got in me and yes, of course, I want a response. Doesn't everyone??

    Rush Limbaugh does it to me. He's a sure thing. And then there are the sports "stars" like Kobe and Barry Bonds and Ben Rothlisberger and Mark McGuire whose mere appearance on the screen send me into a whole other stratosphere of (filthy) language.

    I'm trying to drink less wine in the evenings -- yeah, good luck with that -- because I really do need to lose 20 pounds and it's a hell of a lot harder to jog or exercise in the mornings after a wine-night. So last night I had no wine, but all I really wanted a giant plate of macaroni and cheese and a piece of chocolate cake. I had baked salmon instead. Ugh. It sure isn't fun being a grown up.

    I'm having wine tonight.

  2. I can turn off the TV when the news folks are on and spouting their rhetoric, but when the sports stars are doing there version of "speaking" I yell at them. A lot.

  3. As a proud professing dyed-in-the-wool liberal I am absolutely against book-burning, but for Ayn Rand I might just make an exception ...

  4. the odor reminiscent of spin the bottle kisses in someones basement.


  5. Running With Scissors... hmmm... now I know what I'm putting in my kids' stockings this year. I need all the help I can get in the image-rehab department.

  6. Sounds like its time to immigrate somewhere.

  7. John Galt's head went Galt.

    Yes, no but we trade mimes, see previous, does raisin bran count, can it be simileistic instead?

  8. At first glance I thought the title of the post was, "She's got electric boobs mohair suit". But my mind runs like that sometimes, but never with scissors.

    but have you seen Alan Greenspan? Talk about a pity fuck gone awry.
    Sounds like D-Cup.

  9. I can't even get mad at Limbaugh anymore because he's so ridiculous. I do, however, HATE it when Morning Joe or any other political opinion show invites Jack Welch on...I was yelling at the TV at the same time you were this morning!

  10. Reading in a closet with a flash light sounds like fun.

    My advice? Turn off the TV. A mind is a terrible thing to lose.

  11. The fact that your daughter is comparing you to a book mom and not a tv or movie mom? Love, love, love.
    You're doing something right.

  12. "One of those big bumbleturds aka Carpenter Bees rolled up in his Escalade and gave me a grin." LOL! :) I can just picture it, Lisa!--I really can! I picture a big bee with sunglasses on, cruising up to you and rollin' down that window...too funny! :) I love your writing! :)

  13. Of course I talk to the TV-don't we all?-but when Matt Taibi is on the screen with Bill Maher, it's all I can do not to attempt a French kiss.

  14. Spiders, cockroaches, limbaughs, fleas, fire ants, becks, millipedes, slugs, coulters, hornets, silverfish, locusts, and assorted creepy pests of the uberclass all freak me out. I don't watch television but my search engines have minds of their own when it comes to pointing out things I'd rather not know I'm sharing the world with. My favorite hideaway is usually the couch with a very long book.

  15. Best laugh I had all week--thanks!

    And I think we could all handle Rush Limbaugh a lot easier if we drank on an empty stomach.

  16. rush laughs at himself, right?

    and his followers? i mean, that's all a joke and he's in on it. it's making him a very rich man. i can't even look at him though.

    also, while i'm so very proud of our willy geist movin on up, i miss him when he's not around. i wish mika had a better sense of humor about herself. it doesn't seem fair that she gets to hang out with joe (possibly the ONLY republican i have a crush on).

    i've admitted too much here, i need to stop.

    you make laugh. my feet sometimes smell like dorritos too. okay, i'm really stopping now.

  17. That was priceless - yes,I've seen Alan Greenspan, and no woman should be asked to be that selfless.

    BTW, I don't have phobias. I'm afraid of them.

  18. I loved Andrea Mitchell back in the 80's as a News Correspondent for the White House. That was mostly because of how her 1st name is pronounced: Ohn-Dray-Uh. VERY chic. I had no idea that she was married to Greenspan. GROSS.

    I listen to Rush Radio sometimes while on my way to/from work. That's mostly to irritate myself awake to deal with our new computer system @ work or to pump myself up to head to the gym. No other reason. He's mean, and the other people on there are even worse.

    Ayn Rand freaks me out, and I'm a Libertarian. Figure THAT one out.

  19. Thank you for sharing tales of your smelly feet. Heading out now to Subway...for a foot-long.

  20. The carpenter bees are back? It really is Spring.

  21. Lately, I've been doing a lot of yelling at Chaz Sheen; he of the Tiger blood and rock star from Mars persuasion. Oh, and screaming at the "news" programs that are shoving this sh*t down our throats for the past week. Of course, I'm not their target demographic, so they aren't interested in my opinion.

    As for my closet floor, my kitchen is my refuge.

    I'm soooo livin' on the edge!


  22. Tape yourself and put it on videosift right this goddamn minute! You will develop a cult following before you've even turned off the computer! DO IT NOW!!!!!

  23. I grew up in a home with a weird family ritual: everybody would come home from church and sit down to scream at the Sunday news-in-review shows. My mom used to tell us in the commercial breaks that talking to the television was a sign of intelligence. ;)

    Note that I now live in a house without a t.v. You never know, you might be doing Sophie a big favor.

    Wishing you luck with the bee phobia. That sounds miserable. Bees really almost never hurt anyone, and those big bumbles, it's only the females that sting -- and then you've really got to actively piss them off. They're so docile, I've picked them up in my hand and carried them off the screened-in porch before. However, I might be something of a freak since I've also been known to walk through swarms of yellow jackets and somehow not be touched. (This month's National Geographic is supposed to be devoted to the world's pollinators, but I can't find it anywhere in my small town. Maybe a look at how amazing they are would help?)

  24. Oh, I talk to the Television ALL THE TIME. You're 100% perfectly normal in my eyes.

  25. Love it. I have to tell you there are many days I don't leave the house except to walk the dog. And I'm OK with it! Like you I can have a whole conversation with the TV or radio, let alone the dogs and cat.

    I share the fear of those carpenter bee things. And yellowjackets too! Ugh.

  26. oh, I just saw this one and love it. It would be our just desserts to have our children write memoirs, wouldn't it?


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