2 things.

I can’t explain it, but the water bottle that rests atop the cooler in our break room MUST be facing forward so that the label is showing.

I have a piece of graphite (pencil lead) in my palm. It has resided in there since I slammed my hand onto the wrong end of a pencil during a meeting when I was about 23. Whenever I bring this up at a party, I am usually met with someone else that has the same affliction.

Okay, so this isn't my hand nor is it even lead...but, you get the idea.

A picture of a perfectly toned African male hangs in Beaner's apartment.

I just happen to have a photo of it.

7th Grade Mom

8:00am: Phone call to my mom...

Mom: Hello?

Me: Goodmorning, Happy Halloween! Did I wake you?

Mom: (sounding like I just woke her up) no.

Me: What was your favorite song when you were in 7th grade? What did you want to be when you grew up? What were your fears? Your dreams? Your hobbies? Who did you have a crush on? This is Stuffanie by the way. Did you dream that one day you would have an amazing and cute daughter?

Mom: Well, I am not sure about 7th grade, but my favorite song in 6th grade was "Dizzy" by Tommy Roe. You know... Dizzy my head is spinning... but like I said that was 6th grade.

Pause

What else? Hmmm... well, I also liked Bobby Sherman. As far as what I wanted to be... well, I guess that is around the time when I thought I was aspiring to be a writer. I wrote a lot of plays and poems. Wonder whatever happened to those... I also had a crush on Brad Schwartz.

ME (realizing that my mom just answered my absurd barrade of questions without hesitation because she knows I am crazy): Well, thanks! I am dressing as you for Halloween today. Well, the 7th grade version of you. I am on my way to work... talk to you later. Love you.

My Mom in 7th grade:

Me...currently in my 30s as my Mom in her early teens:

100 Vomits, Outed Wizards and a Sleeping Cat

This is my 100th post!

100 random vomits put forth by my nimble fingers and my Swiss cheese brain.

100 stories of my cat, my phone and my tampons.

100 excuses to exploit my family and share cheesy photos.

In honor of my 100 posts, and for being such a great blog following family, I am announcing my first ever contest. In 100 words or less, write an essay detailing all of the fabulous things about me.

The winner will be chosen based on: sarcasm, use of the word "delicious", number of references to my spinsterhood and my cat, mention of my brown turtleneck, over analysis of my current hairstyle and of course it must contain references to my social life TV and movies. To be in the running, you must also include details of my freakish height, my family and my neuroses. The entries need to be received in the comments section no later than 5pm CST on October 31, 2070.

The prize is an autographed life-sized poster of this photo:


Good luck and happy writing!


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There is a revelation it seems stemming from a Carnegie Hall reading given by J.K. Rawling, author of Harry Potter, where a fan asked if the Headmaster Dumbledore ever found love. The revelation is that Dumbledore was in love with a man. He was in a wizard's closet. He was gay.

The question was: Did Dumbledore, who believed in the prevailing power of love, ever fall in love himself?

JKR’s respnse: My truthful answer to you... I always thought of Dumbledore as gay. [ovation.] ... Dumbledore fell in love with Grindelwald, and that that added to his horror when Grindelwald showed himself to be what he was. To an extent, do we say it excused Dumbledore a little more because falling in love can blind us to an extent? But, he met someone as brilliant as he was, and rather like Bellatrix he was very drawn to this brilliant person, and horribly, terribly let down by him. Yeah, that's how i always saw Dumbledore. In fact, recently I was in a script read through for the sixth film, and they had Dumbledore saying a line to Harry early in the script saying I knew a girl once, whose hair... [laughter]. I had to write a little note in the margin and slide it along to the scriptwriter, "Dumbledore's gay!" [laughter] "If I'd known it would make you so happy, I would have announced it years ago!"

What impresses me most is not that she proclaimed one of the most beloved characters in recent literature was gay, but that this fact neither changed nor dictated her book. It was a part of who he was, like the color of his eyes or the size of his heart. When penning this tale, J.K. knew Dumbledore’s sexual orientation. It was in her mind when she told his story and described his actions and conversations with Harry. She did not turn her book into a pro-gay work, but rather kept it a part of who he was. This lack of agenda makes it all the more profound.

It is a wondrous thing when open-minded people (a woman nonetheless) are blessed with a penchant for writing.

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Static must sleep atop things. Any things.

If a pair of shoes are on the floor...he is there. If you leave a couple of pizza boxes by the door so that you can take them to the garbage later...he is there. If your couch has cushy arms that are beige linen and show every speck of cat hair...he is there. If your coffee table has a nice table runner that was a little pricier than you care to admit and you would hate to have a fine patina of fur all over it... he is there.

I think it is residual behaviour from when cats were fierce predators. They would need to have the greatest advantage for hunting, so naturally they would need to be higher than their prey. Sleeping would have been necessary to conserve energy and they would have to at least have 22 hours or so. They would hear the tiniest rustle of leaves and it would awake them and with only animal instinct on their side, they would pounce. I like to pretend that Static is a fierce hunter... it totally cracks me up.

One intern is green the other intern is telling me I need to diet.

Since Queenie is away this week at a conference (“away” meaning she is in Minneapolis), I have a license to eat and possess food that she abhors. I have stocked my refrigerator with items that make her guts wretch and her nostrils flare in repugnance. Pickled beets in all their red-counter-staining-juicy-goodness and a nice piece of salmon have made me a nice meal or two. Yum. Salmon.

Note: In all fairness, there are a couple of items that I would prefer Queenie not having. For example, under no circumstances can a...dare I say it, dare I even imagine the repulsive stink – banana make a home on the counter. She can certainly purchase them and eat them but, the little yellow purveyors of stench are not allowed to reside any place that I may catch whiff of them. Oh and don’t even get me started on that sickening squishy slobbery noise made when you eat that devil fruit… shudder.

Anyway, along with the Queenie-detested food, the other change is smaller portion cooking mostly in the microwavable genre of cuisine. I purchased a couple of those new fancy pants, single serving vegetables with the light rosemary butter sauce and brought one to work today. It made a nice side to my leftover pasta.

I was busy heating my little pouch of veggies when one of the interns came into the break room. We chatted it up for 3 and one quarter minutes while my vegetable packet cooked.

She is about 10 years my junior and sweet and quiet. She was discussing her view on living ‘green’ and I was bobbing my head along with what she was saying as if I were interested. In reality, my thoughts were on rosemary butter sauce and if I should rent a movie tonight.

When the microwave beeped and I pulled out my miniature pouch of buttered lunch carefully as not to burn my fingertips, she said with some recognition, “That smells like rosemary.”

I said, “Yup, that is rosemary.”

“Are those individual serving pouches?” Pause. Nose wrinkle. The word individual said with extra emphasis.

“Yeah, I know not good for the environment.” Sigh. Fake concern.

”Ah, well just make sure you rinse it and recycle. I don’t mean to sound snotty, but I’m just used to thinking about things like that.”

“Yeah, ok.”

With her lecture over I resumed my lunch preparation rolling my eyes and shaking my head. As she exited our break room another intern came in. Also 10 years my junior. Also sweet and quiet.

Today was her last day with our company and as I inquired about what her future plans were, she too smelled the pungent rosemary wafting from my veggies.

”That smells really good,” she said. “I didn’t know they made individual servings like that. How convenient.”

Ready to defend my actions against the environment, I replied, “Yes, I think so too.”

“Since I live by myself now, I think I may try those. I hate cooking a lot of food just for me.”

“I know what you mean. I am used to eating for two, but now I am eating for one.”

“Wow, I didn’t know!” She said this with a certain congratulatory sound in her voice. I was not sure what she meant at this point.

After a couple of moments, I thought perhaps I should explain that I have a roommate and not a husband because I was sure that the “wow, I didn’t know” comment was just her reaction to the fact that her interpretation of my depressing single with one cat life was incorrect.

She must be thinking I am married. I mean, why would she be so startled at my suddenly making less food.

So I said, “My roommate is at a conference and I usually make enough for two, but this week I am making one portion meals. Just for me.”

“Oh.” She said nodding and looking in the direction of my belly.

This very unsubtle gaze at my midsection made me understand what was going on in her head.

As my cheeks flushed, I realized I said “eating” not “cooking”.

Bad teeth equal good times.

88 cents bought us entertainment for an entire weekend once.

It all started during a beer run when we were in the Dells Wisconsin not too long ago. You see, we were heartbroken after being denied at the movie theater, so we decided to pick up some drinky, some snacks and a board game. We found a Wal-Mart Super Center about 35 miles away.

We learned from the brilliant advertising all around the beer coolers that NO ALCOHOL CAN BE SOLD AFTER 9 PM… ONLY BEER. I love the Dairyland and it’s delicious priorities! Anyway, we decided to pick up some beer, some cups, Apples to Apples and a 4 pack of novelty teeth.

We could not wait to tear into those babies and immediately put them in. Beaner chose who should get which pair using a scientific process based on mouth size. For some reason, she decided I should have the largest pair.

Queenie put hers to good use right away.

JMan's teeth made him go cross-eyed.



Then, since we weren’t absurd and geeky enough and because we were polishing off the last of the beer, we decided to pretend that we smoked. We thought the brand name of the candy cigarettes was appropriate.

I know what you’re thinking, “Pretend smoking and pretend bad teeth? Crazy bastards!”

The only bad thing was the chocolate of the cigarettes melted and it looked like our “cool accessories” fell into dog shit. Good times.



The rest of the weekend saw beautiful shots like these...

Out of all of us tho'...Beaner totally got into the teeth!

How cilantro can make you my BFF

Today we had a field trip to Chipotle. Our 20 person staff all piled into various mini vans and Jettas and headed across town to Chipotle because they were celebrating our nonprofit organization and were providing all of us with free lunch. Chipotle is super busy at lunch time but they were very accommodating and quick with our various burrito, taco and fajita orders.

Since it was so busy, we were sprinkled here and there in the tiny dining space. I ended up smack across my immediate supervisor. This was good because she shared her guac and chips. (Um if you are not familiar with Chipotle, I suggest you drop everything and go to your nearest location and consume as much of the heavenly guac as possible).

Still reading… fine, but when you are done it is straight to guac!

Anyway, while munching down my burrito bowl, (um if you are not familiar with Chipotle, I suggest you drop everything and go to your nearest location and consume a burrito bowl – ask for no rice and extra lettuce so that you have room for guac) I asked said supervisor a question and waited for the reply. When I looked up from my bowl of burrito goodness, my eyes went directly to her teeth. They were covered in flecks of cilantro. The whole scene was reminiscent of moss on trees in a Louisiana bayou

Should I say something?

Should I just blatantly run my tongue over my teeth hoping she’ll get the hint?

My eyes wandered aimlessly around the room, but landed right back into the bayous of cilantro.
As I stared the mess, I began to see that as she talked they disappeared. Pretty soon there was only one lone fleck lodged between her incisor and cuspid. I pondered the pros and cons of telling her. On the one hand, I would hope that someone would tell me. On the other hand, I don’t know if we have developed that tight of bond yet. As I thought, I continued to run my tongue over my teeth the whole time making little smacking noises.

I couldn’t stand it any longer.

I told her.

She thanked me and called me her best friend. I thought to myself, “You probably shouldn’t call me that since I had to convince myself to do this and I compared you to a bayou and everything.” But, I felt justified and good about it. I had saved her from utter embarrassment at the 1:00 meeting we both were attending after the field trip.

So, the 1:00 meeting comes and goes.

Around 2:45 I visit the ladies room.

I look into the mirror when I wash my hands admiring my reflection and how perky my boobs look in the shirt I am wearing. I give a little smile and teeth check and what should glare right back at me? That’s right…a huge…green… mother flippin’ fleck of cilantro!

I guess I have no B.F.F.s in the workplace. Heavy sigh. But, free burrito bowl...mmmmm

Yeah, I am sorry I forgot your name...but, I can sing every word to "Ice Ice Baby"

My sibs and I have a soundtrack to our lives that was created by our warped parents taste in music, musty recordings of Disney tunes from Grandma’s basement, and the wonderful, blissful years of MTV in its toddler years before it became the non-music garbage it is today.

We used to play this game (OK, we still do) where you flip through the channels on the radio and the first person to name the song before it is sung gets a point. To accommodate every one's strengths, you could also earn points for artist. I love this game. I totally kill at this game. A skill I still hoping will someday lend to a lucrative career. Growing up, we could play this game for hours. Cheap entertainment based on something we all loved... what could be better?

I love music. It plays in the background of every memory. I have an arsenal of songs lodged deep in the corners of my brain. They reside there amongst the 87.8 billion useless bits of pop culture trivia. I have no hope of remembering a person’s name or worse yet new phone numbers (sorry Beaner, but I do have you on speed dial). But, I bet I can name that tune or tell you who played Brandon and Brenda on 90210.


Lets spark some memories shall we…

Manic Monday
Like A Virgin
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Bear Necessities

Amanda by Boston - Sobbed for hours after 6th grade break-up... he started dating Amanda...that bitch (OK, still an open wound)

Man Eater, Hall and Oats – Dancing in the living room on Main Street, Weyauwega. Beaner’s famous dance.

Rod Stewart’s Infatuation- “Oh no not again”… 5 year old Queenie shouting the lyrics while drugged up after she broke her arm.

Jethro Tull (any song) – Dad in Bugle Boy jeans banging on the car dash or playing air guitar.

Maggie May - Thoughts of Mom in the 80’s…Feathered hair, bare feet.

The Flame (and Cheap Trick’s Greatest Hits) – Greatest camping trip!

Queen or Big Chill Soundtrack - Time to clean house girls… Like Pavlov’s dog, hearing any song from The Big Chill soundtrack or Queen’s Greatest Hits, makes me feel the need to pick up a can of Pledge.

What are some of your examples?

Rather large hands

I have rather large hands. I have a rather large interest in writing. I have a rather large crush on this brown turtleneck.

Dells Wisconsin: The Off-Season (part 2)

3 chicks and a guy went out Saturday morning for a stroll down the streets of Dells Wisconsin. It was the off-season and where there should be areas in which to squash your flip-flops, there were instead scenes like this…

The travelers didn’t care. They were out for adventures. Oh the adventures!!!

First, they happened upon a funeral…


Apparently a fairy died and her porcelain family and friends gathered in a candy store to pay their respects and listen to "Amazing Grace" on a mini boom box.


After purchasing some candy paying their respects, the travelers continued their journey meandering through little shops chock full of things like wind chimes made from forks, T-shirts displaying “My pals went to WI. Dells and all I got was this stinking t-shirt!” and ancient Native American artifacts like pink, plastic tom-toms.

One place was guarded by a giant troll who entertained the journeymen with a chorus of “You are my Sunshine”.


Beaner bravely told him he had nice pants. It made him smile.


Then he went to sleep.


Peppered among the stores hawking their wares were attractions like wax museums and haunted houses. A particularly sinister place was guarded by this guy…

The travelers wondered how they captured the likeness of their uncle, BigC, so well.

When this sign was spotted by Stuff, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was drawn in by the possibilities and the dreams that her most intimate questions could finally be addressed.


She couldn’t get her dollar in fast enough.


She silently asked this mad scientist her question gazing into his adorable, wisdom-filled face.


She waited for him to answer….


He cackled maniacally and thought hard as his little body shook and his hands made motions on the dials making lights flash all through his little glass laboratory. Buzzing, clicking, and static electricity all added to the show.

When he gave her a dollars worth of time, he paused and said, “The only thing that I can tell you… the answer you seek…the magical word that will solve your dilemma is…

...perhaps”

Perhaps? Only then did she see this:



Beaner was much luckier in her quest for knowledge. By lucky, I mean she got a cool slip of paper for her dollar.

Zoltar caught her fancy with his delicious gold lame´ head scarf.

It didn’t hurt that he also had sconces closely resembling ones in her Grandma and Grandma’s bedroom circa 1985.


The other travelers waited as she and Zoltar looked deep into each other’s eyes so that the most accurate fortune could be told.


“Thank you Zoltar. I shall name my first born after you as promised. Also, the sacrificial goat will arrive in 7 to 10 business days.”



In other shops they busied themselves with silly hats and pictures seen here.

JMan had his heart set on this one.


The other travelers did their best to convince him that while a career in the Over-The-Road-Arts is a lucrative one, this was not the best look for him.

Neither was this:


Around this time the travelers needed a much needed break and some much needed caffeine. They decided to give some business to some cranky crotchety colorful older ladies.


“Iced” was not the best choice for Queenie. She got a little bit chilly.


She then re-created her look for her audition for the next Harry Potter movie (yeah Q, I know only 80 more days).


With their jolt of caffeine-induced energy they decided to partake in the River Walk.


By partake I mean they walked about 200 feet then decided it was too flippin cold to continue.


And besides, the damned paparazzi were following them.




Then, the lovebirds pretended they were in a silent movie.





The last destination for adventure was a magical land where candy grew on trees.


In one area the tourists the adventuresome travelers learned how unrefined cola made its way through gingerbread houses all the way to the factory.


They also beheld sticky, Technicolor goodness…


All in all the journey through the Dell's Downtown in the off-season was an enjoyable one. They each walked away with some fond memories, a quirky trinket or two and the best lesson of all…

Even if you don't always feel it, you can certainly buy it.

Now, isn’t that special!


Note…thanks Q for most of the photography and the Photoshopping magic you donated to this post. Also, JMan and Beaner, thanks for being so photogenic.