Hot holy hell!

Everyone, please pay careful attention to the words that I'm about to type. Are you ready? Because this! is! bignews!!

I, Lauren the art nerd, am going to graduate. In May. Of this year. With a Master's degree.

Advisor v.2.0 gave me back my thesis this afternoon, and proclaimed that she was signing off on it.


blink blink, whaaa? um, okay!! YAYY so what do I do now? The grad office sits there witha ruler and checks that your margins are correct. And they check that your footnotes are in the proper format. And other copious nitpicky bullshit details. Then, I take the finished approved certifiable copy to OfficeMax, make five copies of it, and I! AM! Lauren, MA!!! Woo ha!


And?! This is the part where I beseech all my three readers for some advice. I need your help in making this decision, because my god, the potential ramifications. Advisor v.2.0, remember, is friends with the subject of my thesis.

She
wants
to
send
it
to
the
artist
for
her
to
read.

So should I? I dunno. I'ma scurred. On the one hand, yes! On the other, what if she thinks I'm an idiot and I suck and I ruin my reputation before it's even formed?

So help me, faithful readers. You're my only hope!

Busted!

Thanks a lot, John. Telling my mom that I posted her mole story on the internet. Sit at my breakfast table, eating my food, and then tell on me!! You suck!

Just kidding. Thankfully, my mom doesn't know how to do many things on the internet, and I doubt she'd ever find this site. If it's not in the favorites folder, she won't find me! Silly momma.

Flag on the play

Inappropriate colloquialism. Five yards, first down.

Seriously, did I type y'all the other day?! What the hell, I am not southern! I'll blame it on amalah. I guess a lot of the people whose blogs I read end up being Southern.

I find myself thinking about blog entries I'll write, and they often contain the word y'all in them. I would never say it, it sounds very unnatural when I do, but typing it comes very natural to my blog-writing.

I guess yous guys just don't sound the same...

Now I REALLY have to graduate in May

I went to the dentist this week, and got information on something that I've wanted for a really! long! time!

I am getting my teeth bleached. Yipee!!

It's something that I've wanted to have done for a very long time. I think that I got served because I used to tease this AWFUL girl who lived next door to us about her very yellow teeth. Other problems with this girl, who my mom MADE me be friends with, to my own popularity's detriment in grade school, were that she would fight with me right before Christmas and my birthday (but still gave me my present, though she often threw it at me) (oh well, free stuff, I don't care how it's delivered!!) and that she was mean and a brat and just generally kind of sucked. Y'all, she was a horse girl. Enough said!!

Now I feel like my teeth are those of a smoker, or someone much older than I am, or someone who drinks a lot more tea than I do. My boss thinks I'm a little nuts. She looked at my teeth yesterday. But those babies had just been polished! And it was I call a good tooth day. It depends on the color I wear and what I've eaten in the day, but sometimes I get really self conscious about my choppers.

The date that they will take my impressions is April 10th. I had a funny moment with the nurse who schedules the appointments. She offered me the week previous, but I had a dermatologist's appointment the same exact time. Weird. And I felt like a flaky extreme makeover candidate. But really, I have what I have diagnosed as excema on my face, and I'm tired of it!

So it's a good thing I don't have a photo up on my profile. You won't recognize me in a month. Many thanks to my parents, who are paying for this. Kev, looking for ideas? I want an ipod nano- 4GB. And Sister? You can get me some clothes for teaching, at a discount from your new store. Or not. Thanks

Tagged?

I guess it counts that I've been tagged, since I did read so on teacher lady's blog. So without further ado...


Four jobs you have had in your life?
1. Deli bitch, that was my official title. Made hoagies and cheesesteaks and was, for a time, a cashier at a local Italian deli.
2. Bills window at a pharmacy- fostered my fear of old people!
3. Slide library chick
4. TA for the world's worst class

Four movies you would watch over and over?
1. Jaws
2. Ferris Beuller's Day Off
3. Anything on Lifetime
sorry, that's it, I don't have the patience to sit for 2 hours and watch a movie!

Four places you have lived?
Only one- Philadelphia PA
unless you count the suburb of Glenside, PA as another place. I don't think it counts though!

Four TV shows you love to watch?
1. Sopranos
2. Sex and the City
3. Six Feet Under
4. Rome
HBO junkie right here!

Six places you have been on vacation?
1. Madrid and surrounding cities.
2. London
3. Rome
4. East coast roadtrip for my honeymoon

Four Websites I visit Daily?
1. myspace. Shut up
2. School's portal
3. The nest
4. blogs blogs blogs!

Four of my Favorite Foods?
1. Pasta- and I have the ass to prove it!
2. Vegetable fried rice
3. Steaky steak
4. Mexican

Four Places I would rather be right now?
1. Home
2. With my neice and nephews
3. Rome
4. NYC

Four things I always Carry with me?
1. chapstick, at least 2, more like 4
2. rewetting drops for my contacts
3. cell phone
4. gum or mints, no one likes hot breath!

can't answer the bonus car one, sorry, I'm still on my first. We also had a Santa Fe for a time, but god bless the lemon law!!

That's it for now. Maybe now you know a little more about me, or a clearer understanding of how CRAZY I am! :P

big fat lazy

Writing my presentation about Lisa Yuskavage for my Realism class. I'm kind of unnervous about this one, since I'm taking big chunks of my thesis and reading it. No big thang, right? But then, on the other hand, my prof knows the artist. Yikes! And I don't say anything bad about her, but I don't know if she'll be weird or what. And this prof is very nice, very take-you-under-her-wing, but also one hell of an editor.

I'm giving my thesis to her tomorrow. I'm nervous about that. I didn't take every single one of her suggestions. I so hope we can get this done by the end of the semester. I will be so. freakin. happy. once I have my Masters in hand. :) Like that, only with my face.

And on a side note, I am feeling like an old lady of late. I have three doctors' appointments scheduled. The eye doctor, the dreaded dentist who I actually don't hate, and the dermatologist. It's funny that I've finally decided to go now, when what is likely a stress-related skin crappiness is showing itself again, yet I am finished with class work at the end of the semester. Christ, it'll probably clear up on its own soon! But really, no, because then comes the semesterly oh my god, I need a job thoughts. And the whole nebulous nature of my prelims and what the hell I'm supposed to do about those.

Argh, matey, I be afloat in the sea of grad school, far from the shore. I feel like chief Brody on the Orca in Jaws. In over my head with my wife calling out that she packed me some dramamine. Oh, except that'd be my mom. who I still live with, even though I'm married.

Here's to swimmin with bow-legged women!

procratinating with just a quick thought

I'm watching VH1 classic's series, Hangin' with... Rick Ocasek is on. Can I just say, I fucking love the Cars? I know, it's not exactly like being a huge Stones fan, or a Phishhead or Deadhead or whatever. Most people probably think they're kinda lame. Brings to mind a story Kev told me about a conversation with his friend Jim, who he has been friends with since fourth grade. goes like this...

K: (listening to the radio, Just What I Needed is on) I like this song.
J: Yeah, I like some of the Cars' songs
K: Lauren fucking loves the cars. She has their greatest hits, I didn't realize they played so many songs.
J: Yeah, My Best Friend's Girl is good.
K: So's Drive.
J: Okay, fine, I'll admit, I fucking love the Cars too.

Anyway, so yeah, I just watched Rick Ocasek sing Drive acoustic. Makes writing about the Iberians and the Romans much nicer.

Right now, Run DMC and Aerosmith's rendition of Walk This Way (the FAR superior version, in my mind) is on. Hell yes!

saga of a harried grad student in her final semester of coursework

Haven't updated in a while! Sorry about that, I am up to my a-hole in the process of Romanizing Spain. Well, I mean, I'm not doing it, I'm studying it. For my super cool (to me anyway) class on propaganda in the Age of Augustus. I'm wondering if I should post something that specific, I wonder if anyone from school will find me? Oh well! Hi everyone!

My mom just tried to lecture me on taking down my blog and my myspace accounts, so that when future employers google me, they won't find me. Never mind that my name, now at least, is about as generic as can be. Even with the addition of my maiden name (now my middle name) I found something announcing the title of my thesis from 2005, and a mention on this guy I dated in high school's website. Nothing terrible. And, Mom, I'm the world's biggest dork! I have nothing to hide! Except maybe from my boss, who probably already knows how little work I do there anyway.

By the way, let's hear a funny story about my mom, shall we? Kev and I were sitting at the dinner table, discussing what we should buy my nephew for his first birthday. We decided on a Little Tykes kind of thing for the backyard at Chez crazy. I made mention of how, with so many of our neighbor's cats being outside cats, we couldn't get him the sand box. She asked what my other nephew and neice did with theirs. Mom, I say, it's a brand new McMansion development. There aren't any cats around. She simply refused to believe that. I said, no, really, no cats, just moles. She says to me, and this is where it gets weird...

Did the moles eat the cats?

What? Mom, seriously, what the fuck? Moles are approximately the size of bunnies,at most, aren't they? And full grown cats, the size of babies? Would dirty Jerz allow flesh eating rodents to exist in a community with so many kids? What the hell?

All I could think of was the rabbit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, with the pointy teeth. Eating cats. Who shit in sandboxes. In the hinterlands of New Jersey.

So, to recap, my mom is still crazy, I am busy busy busy with a paper, and you probably won't hear from me till Monday night, after the pres is over. And Spain either bought the Roman culture with all its symbols (theaters and amphitheaters, fora and temples) wholesale, or the Romans were big bad baddies who forced it upon them. Gotta love the ancient world, there are seemingly never any answers. Lovely.

The baffling manners of artsy people

On Thursday a girl came in to the Slide Library, which is where I put in my 20 hours per week as graduate assistant. Emphasis on the ass. Anyway, the girl was dressed in a very strange manner, even for an art school. She had on GIANT earrings, totally club-style. A non-descript (cause I don't remember it!) shirt, with a rather business-like skirt. So on her torso she was all art education, her major. Then on her feet and legs, going back to the shoe thing, she had on funky textured tights and the most ridiculously fuzzy boots on. Nanook of Cheltenham, I tell ya. And to top it all off, one of those silly sequin-y bags that look like you carry your wallet and datebook inside a big brown disco ball. She was a walking trend.

She came in at around four o'clock, and was a total newbie. That sucks, since we close at 4:30, but really the last second of solitude after four that I can stand. I cut out early a lot. Oh well. She kept telling me what a great resource this is, like every art school under the sun doesn't have a slide library. Um, okay. She took a long time in there, and I didn't leave till quarter to five.

The first part that made me think she was weird and a little clueless was her talk about her lesson plan that she's going to implement at a racially diverse grammar school in the area. She plans to show the work of Kara Walker, who uses cut paper silhouettes to explore themes of 19th century emancipation and the politics of plantation life. Oh, and SEX. Lotsa sex and poop. Show this to seventh graders, honey, even I can tell you what's going to happen. They probably aren't mature enough to see the value in the images and will just giggle a bunch. There's an image I'm thinking of especially, in which a woman is being penetrated by a swan. I definitely would have lost it in seventh grade!

The second thing that she did that made me think she was weird was that she came into my office and saw our girlscout cookies. Would you come into someone's office, whom you do not know, and ask them for a cookie? I wouldn't, but if I did, I certainly wouldn't eat FIVE of them. How strange is that?! At first, when she asked, I thought my boss knew her, and my boss thouught I knew her. What with the forwardness and all.

Good luck with your lesson, ya big cookie stealing, weird dressing, clueless freak show!
edited to add..

here's a link to a photo of Kara Walker's work. Couldn't find any of the images I'm talking about, of course, but here's one of her more graphic emancipation approximation images. for some reason, I can't link on the mac, sorry!

Art nerds, unite!!

So I survived my first official College Art Association Conference. I didn't meet any famous people, but I did get to hear quite a few of em speak. YAY! I heard Mary Garrard and Norma Broude give talks at one session, Anna Chave at another. I heard about the Afterlife of Jackson Pollock (summary- he rocked and the last word has DEFINITELY not been written about him yet, the paintings that were found of his are probably authentic, and his choice of media is staggeringly normal). I heard about Minimalism (only part that really sticks out is the pilgrimmage-like nature of its exhibitions and it's ephasis on ethereal language). I heard about Cezanne and about bringing the feminism to non-women-centered topics.

I saw a very old art nerd guy almost lose it when his slides jammed.I saw a lot of TERRIBLE quality slides. now, I may be an image quality snob because of my job, but seriously. Very Prominent Scholars should not ever show crooked ass slides! And there should definitely be a course called Powerpoint for Artnerds. Because Jesus Christ, people, show me the image, not a stupid ass template that is all sorts of cheesy and have the actual image be thiiiiis big on the screen. Also, don't lie to me and tell me the color is off because there are so many projectors being used on miles of extension cords. Bull shit, Louise!

And by the way, do you know what I do? I am the Digital Media Intern. Sounds fancy pants, doesn't it? I help to create the digital slide collection at my fair school, but I mostly just fart around in filemaker pro and surf lotsa internet. I can also shoot if the spirit moves me, and tomorrow I won't be doing jack but studying for my LAST! MIDTERM! EVAH!!

I'm almost to the end of the internet, by the way. send me pages, I get bored easily!

And I've come to a conclusion about how to differentiate between the artists and the nerds in a crowd like that at CAA. Shoes. Apparently, art nerds only wear ugly shoes. This is not to say that artists don't, but it's all about the intention. I think the artists are purposely being different, but the nerds, well, they just kind of don't get it.

But don't expect me to give in to that, no sireee!! Cute shoes, they must be mine! But I like to toe the line between artist and art nerd. Artist in the summer, nerd in the winter. Ad cute shoes wearer, the whole year long, baby!

And then, evidently, not for another week or so...

yeah, I have no excuse for my absense. I am sorry though. I could lie and say that I was hesitant to sign off on my 70th entry, erasing the sophomorically funny 69 on my hit count. That might not be the truth though...

I must say in my defense that I've mentally written a few entries. One details the strange phenomenon by which a person thinks that I am weird and in response, I start to act. really. weird. This person is in school with me, and I'm not so sure why she thinks I'm wierd. She's never even read my thesis, or this blog!! And dude, she's from Kansas, she don't know from weird!!

Another was an update on my cousin. I forget which pseudonym I used for him, damn! Anyway, he's still, erm, free. Nothing came of my aunt lying to his shrink and saying that she heard him threatening someone. I so agree with Teacher lady, who suggested that the wrong person would be institutionalized in that situation. *check out her blog, especially the hilarious account of grandparents at midterms! LOVE!!!*

Anyhow, I am sorry that I have not updated. Not to you, really, my four or five faithful. But sorry to myself, maybe, for being lazy and crappy. Will do better!

But starting Wednesday, I am going to Boston for the college art association annual conference. A great big enclave of art nerds! I'll be in heaven! Also, I may die if I actually meet anyone famous. Which was another tale that is all composed...up here. When I met the painter on whom I am writing my thesis and TOTALLY FUCKING CHOKED. Now she has a reason to think that I am weird.

Because everyone updates on Mondays!

I know, I'm still not great at the whole updating regularly thing. Sorry. But things are Busy! and Crazy! With an emphasis on the crazy.

Okay, here's the part where Lauren admits to being from a totally fucked up extended family and further confirms the white-trash roots that the whole art nerdery are just a ruse, a RUUUUSE intended to hide the roots, the ROOOOOTS.

Anyway. My cousin, for the purposes of this story let's call him Charles, he is crazy. Like agitated, diagnosed by amatuer psychiatrist/art nerd me as bipolar. He dreams very big. for example, he has two inventions in the works right now. But he's just annoying nuts, not the rip the heads off small animals, eating children kind of nuts. Anyway, my aunt, who is nuts as well, has decided to have him committed.

The problem? That he's not THAT KIND OF CRAZY. He is annoying, for sure. He gets very agitated and talks and talks and talks. He stutters and yells and screams, he runs his mouth like no one else. But really, he isn't the sort of crazy that he needs to be committed. Now, I've looked into it, and he doesn't meet any of the criteria. He hasn't threatened himself or anyone else, as I said, not that kind of crazy. Also, my aunt? I am 100% convinced that she killed my mom-mom. (That is a story for another day, but it involves one sick mom-mom in hospice care for lung cancer and more than one shot of morphine and sleeping pills.) It should also be noted that the story is at least a third-hand account of my aunt's side of the story.

My mom tells me this, and in turn, I tell Kev. Both of our reactions contained a lot of false-start sentences, But? wha? how? huh? And my mom is upset because, without getting into it too much, Charles used to be a cop and was fired and has some sort of civil suit against them or something, and my mom thinks that the cops have it in for him. I think all that was a long time ago, and the cops who would theoretically take him to a hospital if he magically fit any sort of criteria for an involutary committment, which of course, he doesn't, but if he did, well then the cops would be extra rough with him and hurt him or something.

But this is all beside the point, because you can't commit someone for being annoying!! And can I just say that this aunt has tried this before, when my other cousin, her daughter dated a black guy?! Yes, she thought that the fact that her daughter was dating someone not of her race was grounds for her committment! THE HELL?

Yes, people, welcome to my life. I have precious little culture in my life, and it was all learned in school. I feel like I should point out that my own family, my nuclear family, my mom, dad and sister, are quite normal. Kev and his side, even moreso. And this says nothing of the cousin who is 40 and has to hide the fact that he lives with his girlfriend, the one who doesn't work, boyfriend doesn't work, and somehow still owns a house, or the one who is shockingly normal just with kinda bratty kids.

Oh that's right, people. The floodgates have opened, you will now hear about the trashiness that is my extended family. Sit back on the sofa on your porch and grab a beer from the outdoor refrigerator. This'll be better than NASCAR!!

Kanye H Christ!

So I love love love Kanye West. His songs are pretty good. But what I really like about him is his ability to piss people off.

This is my new favorite website, found through the blog of Teacher Lady (see sidebar). She's awesome, but Jesus of the Week is just... brilliant!! sidenote- Jesus of the moment, click to resurrect?! Oh hell yeah!

Anyway, back to Kanye. I don't get why people are so offended by him. Is it that he seems to honestly think he has more in common with the big JC than most people? Cause I find the messianic posturing of the jerk off from Creed to be much more distasteful. (have to give credit where credit is due, except that I forget who said this first). Anyway, Creed guy = supreme douchebag. Kanye, of course, has an ego the size of a continent, but, dude, hello? so does Bono.

I have a feeling people think that the cover of Rolling Stone is derogatory in some way. Maybe it is. But why is that forbidden? I know, I know, I'm not naive, but why can't people try to not immediately get their backs up when a religious image is used.

Andres Serrano's Piss Christ is a pretty image till you know it's all submerged in piss and whatnot. (But that got all messy because the general God-fearing public didn't want their tax dollars being spent on sacriledge) And Chris Ofili's Holy Virgin Mary, famously called the Dung Painting involved public funds, too (the awfully Fascist sounding attempt by Rudy Giuliani to withdraw said funds from the Brooklyn museum, to be specific). But the dung is the least offensive part of the painting. I wonder why no one mentioned all the floating naughty bits or the fact that the Virgin is wearing a Lil Kim inspired outfit. The hell? Oh, those little round things that the painting is resting on? Thar's the poo! And a little bit on the painting. Oh, and the whole show it was part of (Sensation, a show of the collection of British rich dude and patron of the arts Charles Saatchi) was quite provocative.

I know, short digression into my own geeky world, but it's relevant, in some way, I promise. All I'm saying is, why are religious images special? Why can't Kanye identify himself with Christ, he ain't hurting anyone! Why all the annoyance? I think God has a sense of humor. I also think that Kanye has a humongous ego, but hell, I wish I had that kind of confidence in myself. He's an interesting guy, and because he pointed out, uh, the TRUTH on the Hurricane Katrina TV thingy, he's criticized as being a jerk. I say let him play Jesus on the cover of Rolling Stone. Whatever! Why all the judging?

Been a long time

Jesus, a whole week without a post! How will my reader in the singular go on?

I have no excuse. School is busy, but that's nothing new. Although my one class keeps switching between Thursday and Tuesday. I am so confused. I'm doing the readings tonight, and I think the class is tomorrow. I think.

The class is in Contemporary Realism. Woo hoo, that just might be my "boutique area" for my prelims. See, in the exams, which are one part written and one part oral, yes, ORAL, for fuck's sake, there is your broad area, and then you pick a more specialized area and that's your boutique area. My broad area is from 1945 to the present, and my boutique area is going to be either contemporary realism or women artists. I dunno. And those few sentences are about all I know about these exams. Which are the SCARIEST. FUCKING. THING. EVAH!

Yes, I tend to freak out a little like that, when I think about 'em. So anyway, Contemporary Realism, in which I am able to make a presentation and write another paper about Lisa Yuskavage. Oh hell yes. And this is a class with Advisor part 2, and I have her attention next week, when her deadline has passed. Comforting to know that profs write up till the last minute, too.

What else is on my plate for this semester? Well, I have Images in the Age of Augustus, which will focus on the possibilities of visual propaganda in Augustan images. Totally perfect for me in my ever-expanding dorkitude for all things HBO-series related. And I am also taking a class called Depicting Race. It's taught by a new prof who is only here for a year. Too bad, because she has pretty much done more for me in terms of professional networking stuff and also dissertation advice in one email that Advisormus prime has done in, oh, four years. I'll be writing about Kara Walker, who is totally interesting and got to play the good witch in Annie Liebowitz's Wizard of Oz spread for Vogue. (Check out the rest of the images, too!) PS, my birthday is coming up, and the December 2005 edition of american Vogue is not too expensive!

So that's what I'll be doing this semester. Also, I'll be finishing up my thesis, and writing a paper about Ana Mendieta in the eighties. That? is from last semester. Ouch, thank goodness for spring break.

jerk-off cats, part deux

A visual tour of our cat-infested house.

This is Blanche. She hates us all. She will not be petted, but she will crap on a chair when we're about to have company. But, if you talk to her, she purrs and shows her belly. Her ample, substantial belly.









Hariette. The original gansta. Our number one cat. She thinks she's a dog. She goes outside for a few minutes at the time, and is likely the reason we have fleas all the damn time. She licks my feet when I get out of the shower. Don't know why, but she starts knocking on the bathroom door as soon as the water turns off.



Rufus. He's our gentle cutie boy. He treats Hariette like she's his mother, kneading on her belly like he's nursing. It's sweet and a little sick. He isn't fat at all, but is very heavy on his feet. The floor shakes when he walks past.










Sammy. He is originally Kev's cat, but has taken an on-again, off-again interest in me now. Mostly he only likes me when he's mad at Kev. He's a big guy, strong and muscular. Has a very weak meow/cry, and sounds a lot like Beaker from the Muppets. He's grown into his ears, thankfully.







And Sophia Stinkerbell. This image in black and white, but it's the best example of the half-face I referenced yesterday. She is a pain in the ass! But she's also sweet and lovey sometimes too. Has a strange habit of running into a room and announcing herself with a very demanding MEOW!! Especially not cute at 3 am.




The first three cats are my parents' cats. But since we live with them, hello, we have five cats. Jesus, that's a lot. I am destined to be an old lady with lots of cats. But given how cute they all are, I think I'm okay with that.

Stray cat blues

Not to copy off of Andrew's post about his squicked-out cats, but mine are driving me crazy too. Not the least of my complaints is the way they seem to be perpetually contracting fleas, even in the dead of winter. How this keeps happening is beyond me. We put Frontline on them, we wait the prescribed 24 hours, and then we vaccuum. But inevitably, about a month later, we see them scratching. Then I pick one, whichever is closest and least likely to swing at me, and roll over his/her back with a lint roller. Black flecks = fleas. Black commas = flea "dirt". ICK!

So I drive to the vet or to petsmart, depending if I caught the little jerks before 7pm (when the vet closes). And I buy about a jillion dollars worth of Frontline Plus. And I vow every time that I'm just going to order it ahead of time from drsfostersmith.com and have it for them. It's less expensive from them too, gah! get with it, Lauren. But I'm sure that they won't get fleas in the wintertime. oh, silly, trusting girl.

As I was typing that last paragraph out, I felt a push on my laptop. Sophia was headbutting the screen, with her crazy half-face. Will come back with pictures, swear.

Know how lazy I am?

Sometimes, when I am commenting on someone's blog that has word verification...

I keep hitting enter until I get a letter combination that isn't too hard.

That's bad, I know.

Oh, and there is word verification on my blog, I know that too.

In honor of HBO...

The movie channel seems to be running Alexander and Troy on a constant loop. Now, there's nothing like a really cheesy studio movie about mythology/history. But do they have to make them so preposterously easy to make fun of?

I think it's hilarious that in Troy everyone has a vaguely Irish accent to match Colin Farrell. I mean, I guess it's as arbitrary as the generally-accepted British accent used in most movies about the ancient world. But there are few things more laughable than Angelina Jolie's, um, accent? in Troy. Almost as bad as Aaliyah's Transylvanian mockery in Queen of the Damned.

Oh, wait, there is Brad Pitt's awful attempt at a British accent. Victory is yoooooooowah's. Takyyyke it! Sigh.

The boy

Went shopping with my mom and Liam today. Yes, we had him again. I am not really sure why, but we'll go with it.

Anyway, we were sitting on a bench while my mom checked out. It was a long wait, because two gentlemen in front of us found the self-check extremely challenging. What I don't get is why people with no discernable computer skills attempt this. There are professionals who can help you, old people!

Anyway, it's funny how free people feel to come up to you and talk to you when you have a baby with you. I don't usually correct people when they assume he's mine, because really, what's the difference? But what really amazes me is how people say how big he is. Yes, he's fat, but he's a baby, and he's 3 inches off the charts in height. So he looks older than 7 months. Also, it's usually older people, who, I'm sorry, don't have the frame of reference anymore. Whatever grandma. Yes, he's well fed. He sleeps through the night, since the first day he came home from the hospital, too. And he's really bright. I don't care if he does wear size 18 months clothes!

Which he does, cause damn that kid is fahhhht! See, I'm allowed to say that. You, old lady in the supermarket, are not.

Bed's too big without you...

In honor of Miss Doxie's incoherent though hysterical entry about sleep and the lack thereof, I thought I might recount for my legions of readers the very strange things I do in my sleep. And I shall pepper this entry with embarrassing things about my loved ones. Because it'll make me feel better that you all know I am not alone in the craziness.

I talk in my sleep. A lot. Mostly, I either agree or disagree with myself right before I fall completely asleep. My sister brought this to my attention, and Kev confirms it. I seem to just mumble when I talk in my sleep. This is not so with Kev. He has full-fledged conversations when he's asleep. I heard him once, from the living room, telling Rob to turn his amp down, and all of them to get their shit together. Yeah, he was dreaming about practice.

It gets interesting, having another talker in bed with you. We never know who started the conversation, but a lot of times we wake up already talking to each other.

I also cry in my sleep. This happens a lot, too. Especially when I am all stressed out. It's usually in response to the people in my dreams being mean to me. Either that, or a loved one dies in my dream. Waking up sobbing is a strange thing, to be honest. Because I usually have no idea why I'm crying. It's just happening and there I am. Weird.

My sister, on the other hand, walks in her sleep. I've never done this. She also eats in her sleep. Once, when she came home from college, she sleep-walked to the kitchen and took damn near everything out of the fridge. She put broccoli in the microwave and left milk and many other things out on the counter. My mom insisted she was either drunk or high. Our mom only ever accused us of being high when we weren't.

Sooooo, anyone want to share a hotel room with me?? Anyone?