Archive | April 2012

dames, games, and guitar thangs

I find inspiration in strange places.  Sometimes I see stuff  and I know I want to use it in some work/project, but I’m not sure what or how.  I have to let it sit and then one day, perhaps even a few years later, inspiration hits and I finally make something.

So, when my husband was changing his guitar strings, I asked him to save them for me.  I knew I wanted to use them for some sort of jewelry.  First I contemplated just braiding them and having them as a bracelet that wrapped around my wrist multiple times. Then I decided I wanted to make a beaded choker but a huge, multistrand choker.  I waited until I had 2 sets of guitar strings and this weekend I started on it.

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Get Into My Car

Last night, Thing 1 borrowed my car for her date.

I’m not ready for my oldest to be this old.

I think that we’re past the age of driving as though she’s playing Mario Kart.  And she’s been in the car when her friends have had close calls because of distracted driving and didn’t like it.  So she leaves her phone alone while behind the wheel.

My biggest worry now is just her inexperience with all things cars.  I had to know how to change the oil.  She doesn’t know how to open the hood to check the oil.  I could change a tire, she doesn’t know how to check air pressure in the tire.

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Bottoms Up

I completely have the next door neighbor from hell. 

I moved here, pregnant with child #2, 11 years ago.  I live on a quiet street in a firmly middle class suburb.  I love my little street because it connects nothing.  It’s a little tiny side street off of another little side street. 

My next door neighbor was a single mom with two teens, a boy and a girl.  Not long after we moved in, a few of the neighbors introduced themselves.  Near the end of these introductions, in hushed tones, I was often told to be weary of my next door neighbor.  Ominous, right? 

Soon after, the neighbor who must not be named came over on a Sunday and told me it was her son’s birthday.  She was having a birthday party for him in the back yard and since it was his 16th birthday party, she expected it might go a little late.  Would we be ok with that?  Of course I said ok.  What she didn’t mention was that her definition of a little late was 2 am.  On a Sunday night/Monday morning.  And the next day was NOT a holiday. Drunken 16 year old boys singing at the tops of their lungs, playing football, laughing like maniacal hyenas, shrieking.

That sucked.  But not nearly as much as what happened next.  Apparently, I agreed to being ok with this type of behavior from now on for all time.  Because it’s been happening all year round (and I live in Cleveland), in all types of weather, up to 5 nights a week ever since.

I kept hoping that at some point, hosting Nattie Light parties in your mom’s backyard would get embarrassing.  I mean, the dude is 26 years old.  The same clueless, antisocial behavior that causes him to sit outside all night screaming is also responsible for him not being embarrassed.  That embarrassment should have kicked in right around the time he was legally old enough to drink.  So, 5 years ago. He is the boy who cannot be shamed. 

On top of this, he now has 2 or more of his adult male buddies living in the house with his mom and his sister.  And they all sit out front on any random afternoon, smoking a bong on their front porch.  I feel like I live in the inner city. 

Neighbors, can’t live with them, can’t drop a house on them.

I think it’s time to move.

 

Cousinhood

I attended the last day of the Cleveland International Film Festival today.  I went with my oldest, Thing 1.

We went to see Cousinhood because Thing 1  needs some extra credit for Honors Spanish 4.

I have to say, I detest Tower City.  The place is grubby and depressing and, if I decide to go again, I will only go to one of the other theaters involved.  The roads are awful, pot holes big enough to swallow my car, the road signs out of the parking lot directed us to dead ends (not Tower City’s fault but the city of Cleveland), half the store fronts in the mall are vacant, the place is not well-lit, there are only two sets of public restrooms in the whole place and one set is down some abandoned hallway that made me feel very unsafe, and the theater itself is old and shabby.

The movie though.  The movie was funny and charming, if not a bit predictable.  It was bawdy too.  The first scene in the movie had a phrase about fucking like wild animals.  I wasn’t sure if I should cover Thing 1’s ears or eyes.  I want to believe that her Spanish skills are getting good enough for her to understand more, but I’m hoping she’s not learning those particular phrases in class.  Or anywhere else actually.

There was lots of talk about jerking off and blow jobs.  Definitely my kind of humor.  But not when I’m with Thing 1.  I guess she’s more comfortable hearing that sort of thing with me now.  I remember the first time she listened to the Humpty Dance with me after she understood the lyrics.  When the line about “in the 69 my humpty nose will tickle your rear” played, she looked at me, realized that I knew what it meant to and melted into the floor or something.  As though I shouldn’t understood about those things.  Ha!  So maybe it was a milestone or something.  The two of us able to laugh at some blue humor together.  She’s much more comfortable now that she knows that I know about sex.

And now we can watch a movie like this with it’s jokes like “Tona only blows me.  Lovingly” and laugh together.

The movie really does end up being very heartwarming.  I don’t understand why all foreign films look as though they were made in the 70s though.  With the old cars and the dated clothing and the awful moustaches.

I want to buy a copy, so I can watch it again.  It truly was that much fun to watch.  Unfortunately, it’s only available in Non-US format right now.

All I know is, that by going down to Tower City to see this movie, I now have balls the size of Spartacus.

Why Books Don’t Make Good Movies

Last weekend, while trying to recover from the Plague (thanks to my son, the Monkey King for bringing it home and sharing it with me), I saw The Hunger Games.

Let me say that I had not read the books first.  And I thought the movie was enjoyable.  I was shocked that Lenny Kravitz didn’t suck.  I thought Jennifer Lawrence could have been slightly less wooden.  Or a lot less wooden actually.  I loved Woody Harrelson.  I was glad that I didn’t realize that Effie was the insufferable Elizabeth Banks (are her interviews still full of her going on about how beautiful she is and how hard it is to be just so beautiful) and I must say she should always be covered up enough so that she’s unrecognizable, it makes her less unlikeable.

I cried big, soggy tears when Rue died. That was gut wrenching.

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