Beer and cupcakes? This reminds me of a party my brother hosted back in his bachelor days - the only party he ever invited me to attend. He had a keg. Maybe 2 kegs. And a couple of bags of doritos. And some stale popcorn.
Yeah, quite the party animal… 
Who’da thunk he’d grow up to become a CEO?!? Who can cook!! And who hired a decorator to do his house… no, swampy she wasn’t faaaaabulous.
Happy Birthday to Katcha! May babies are the best. I say this because I too, am a May baby! Well, I’m not really a baby any more (dang birthdays), but you all know what I mean.
Mr. Taters unfortunately, was on the road when my first Tater Tot came along. She decided to arrive six weeks early. That is another story in and of itself, and rather long. However, he WAS around when my second Tater Tot decided to arrive. I had gone into labor the night before, but knew I had time. So, I slept, and awoke at 5:00 a.m. When I woke up, I looked outside and saw that it had snowed. I mentioned this in passing to the hubby. He grunted and went back to sleep. I showered, fixed my hair (do NOT ask my why), and put make up on. After this, I called the consulting nurse, who, in no uncertain terms, told me to get my tail to the hospital stat. At this point I was in quit a bit of pain and starting hee hee-hoo hoo stuff. I then told my hubby to take to me to the hospital.
The following conversation ensued.
Me: Honey, I need to go to the hospital now.
Him: What??!!! Can’t you wait? It snowed and I don’t want to be out in that mess!
Me: :mad: :dubious: What? You’re a friggin’ professsional driver! I gotta go NOW!!! Hee-hee-hoo-hoo. OUCH!
Him: Do I have time to take a shower?
Me: 
Um…grunt…it better be a three minute one!
Him: Oh, is it that bad?
Me: What the **%*^#**%* DO YOU THINK BUDDY! MOVE IT NOW!
So, he takes his shower, we load up the daughter, drop her at daycare, and fought all the way to the hospital over what to name the baby. We settled on a name about 15 minutes before we arrived.
We arrived at the hospital around 7:00 a.m. The time in the labor room and the delivery room was quite, shall we say, amusing.
Him: Push honey, push!
The Nurses, in unison: Mr. Taters!!! It’s not time, don’t tell her that!
Me: This damn saddle block isn’t working worth a %*#*!
The Nurses: We’ll get the anethesiologist back in here!
Anesthesiologist: Ooh, we’ll have to wait a bit before I can give you an epidural.
Cut to an hour later: Doctor comes in and states I’m ready for the delivery room.
Mr. Taters is very excited at this point. The doctor snaps at the nurses"Do NOT call me until the head crowns and stalks out of the delivery room (yes, she was a bitch). She no sooner leaves and my son decides to crown and rip. The nurses are yelling for the doctor, who runs, pushes my husband out of the way, and literally catches my son with arm and hand. I, of course, am torn from stem to stern (sorry Ex). My husband is now between my legs like a catcher, with the medical staff yelling at him to get out of the way. Eventually, the afterbirth arrives, and hubby is right over there going, “Hmmm, so that’s afterbirth huh?” He’s really studying it too! “Wow, that’s really interesting”. “So, what can you tell from the afterbirth, doctor?” Long discussion ensues between doc and hubby. :rolleyes:
Hubby was quite comical really. The nurses and doctors thought he was hilarious. I, at the time, just wanted it all to be done!
So, my son, now 11, arrived on Pearl Harbor Day! I won’t gross anyone out with stories of projectile vomiting, (both kids were EXCELLENT at this feat); peeing in the mouth when the diaper was removed (took hubby three times before he got smart about that); and all the other oooooggy stuff, out of deference to **Ex./B]
Well, this turned out rather long too…sorry about that.
Thanks, Taters, for that really good lead in to my adventures in consumerism, otherwise known as “The Rube Goes to New York”.
First, a word about NY taxis. I looooove NY taxis! They are everything I have ever been told about them and more. Better than any thrill ride in any theme park–the command of spatial geometry, the effortless merging and converging and diverging, the symphony of horns, the exhilaration of near certain disaster avoided by the graceful acquiescence of another (or perhaps simple lack of nerve)–taxis are marvelous, marvelous things captained by those who in other times would dare the cosmos (or at least dare the other guy to dare the cosmos).
Second, I love NY pedestrians. The only humans capable of standing up to a NY taxi with a better than even chance of coming out alive. The trick, I suspect, is one of attention. New York pedestrians pay no attention to cabs, while tourists watch them like hawks and base their movements on their actions–in turn, the cabbies treat them with no respect and keep them cowering on street corners until enough New Yorkers show up to shepherd the tourist across. New Yorkers treat taxis (when they do not need to hail one) like spoiled children whinning, ignore them and they will go away. Or run over your foot. But that’s the price you pay for living in NY.
Next, the conference was great, but I won’t bore you with the details. Just think about 850 lawyers all in the same room. With cell phones, of course.
I’ll bore you with my recitation of my time on Broadway instead. I saw three plays–two musicals and a comedy/drama/social commentary. Why yes, I did go to see Tim Robbins’ play Embedded, how did you guess? It is a play worth seeing, but not a great play–better staged than written, a conversation piece that plays to those that never needed to be converted, without a balanced line in the script. It received a standing ovation, of course.
Gypsy, with Bernadette Peters, was everything I thought it would be. She is a show stopper, and carries the role of Mama well. I waited outside (at the stage door, no less) and got her autograph and a handshake. I’m not sure why. I’m not an autograph kind of person, but it seemed the thing to do. The young, beautiful, star-struck ingenue goes to Broadway, waits to see the star of the show and somehow, from that chance meeting, is discovered as the talent of the ages and is next seen accepting her Tony award. (Listen, it’s my fantasy, and I’ll call it as I see it. Young and beautiful and don’t you forget it!) As this fantasy, however plausible, did not come to fruition, I walked alone back to my hotel, stopping only to eat a giant slice of incredible cheesecake. With milk. Whole milk.
But the highlight of my Broadway adventure was The Boy From Oz, with Hugh Jackman. Now, I’ll admit that I bought this ticket in part just to see Jackman (as I will see the movie Troy mostly for Brad Pitt’s arms) without knowing if he was capable of carrying a Broadway show. Well, boys and girls, is he ever!!! Not just a pretty face with a great body, a dreamy voice and enough charm to separate an elephant from his tennies ('cuz elevensies are too big and ninesies are too small), this man can act! I think it is the best thing I’ve ever seen on stage, and I would have seen it again (at full cost, no less) if I had had time. Viggo Mortensen will be taking a hiatus from my dreams for a while–displaced by a man playing a dead gay guy, what is the world coming to?
Tomorrow–Adventures in High Art or “Kallessa Deciphers Mimimalism” (otherwise known as “Is That A Work of Art, Or Does the Museum Have an Ant Problem?”).
And they both charge $50 just to walk through the door. 
MMMMMMMMMMM… real New Yawk cheesecake! Oh and the rest of the stuff sounded good too Kallessa 
Sounds like you had a good time. Which broadway star did you get to exchange “hello, fine day” with? How was the subway ride? What’d you buy? (Of course she went shopping!)
See, some of us pay attention.
Kallessa, BRAVO! You almost made me homesick for the Big Apple. (Where I’ve never lived…but I used to visit all the time…but it’s been many years.) An old boyfriend used to live there. (He wasn’t old at the time but now he’s about 55) Whenever I came to town he’d trot me around the Village and SoHo and show me the sights. Those were the days, my friend…la…la…la.
Sounds great, Kallessa. Glad you had fun.
You did buy me some cheesecake, right? You’re going to ship it soon, right?
So this New York cheesecake? Sopposed to be better than the Jell-O box stuff? Naw! Can’t be! (Or won’t you tell me because I’m “mean”?)
But only after the girly stuff:
I’ve got a great cheesecake recipe, and you make it in the blender, so it’s easy.
On to the manly stuff:
I get to drive a manly-mobile until Monday, since my car is in the shop due to a minor accident this morning. So until Monday I get to drive a fire engine red Ford F-150. The gun rack and rebel flag go in the back tonight after work. Well, the gun rack anyway.
Whoo-hoo!
welby don’t forget the spotlight so you can shine some deer at night while yer ridin’ around throwing empty beer bottles at road signs. Sheesh! Some people don’t know how to act in a truck do they?
Hey Welby, I’ve got that same recipe, except my cheesecake always falls when it cools, so I’m thinking of switching to Alton Brown’s recipe instead.
We’re at the beach right now, and I’m connected over a very slow modem, (I actually started this post Sunday night,) so I can’t regale you with tales of sand right now. So all I’ll say is Happy Birthday to everybody who deserves it, 'specially Katcha. And welcome back Kallessa.
Talk to ya’ll later, when I could talk about baby poop. But I ain’t gonna.
screech-owl, my cab rides were all about $10, with tip, and I always tipped at least three dollars. A cabbie’s life is difficult and they are not highly paid.
swampy, I exchanged greetings with Richard Dreyfuss as he exited his cab before the matinee performance of his play. In person, he is aging well, and those eyes do twinkle. Subways are boring. Efficient, but boring. On the other hand, I didn’t get lost, robbed or groped and I heard some great music from a busker at the 34th Street. (That’s another thing I love–buskers. Besides the musicians, the dancers are cool. I saw this group of performers doing that kinda hip-hop, break-dancing acrobatic stuff, all while keeping an eye out for the cops. Turns out the cops did show up, but they let the kids finish the show and collect some money before telling them to stop blocking the sidewalk.)
Tupug Anachi, I didn’t make it to Soho or the Village, and I’m very disappointed that I didn’t get a meal in Little Italy. However, this gives me a reason to return–as if I need a reason!
Lis, Rue, cheesecake not to die for, but to live for. Cheesecake to dream about, cheesecake worth standing in line for, worth abandoning all pretense of diet or budgetary constraints for, cheesecake of the Gods. And it was served to me by the cutest little chunk of beefcake you’d ever want to see. Yum.
Shopping. Well, really, I’m not much of a shopper. I did the museum shops and bought several prints and notecards, just to keep my favorites close to me. And I did go to The Town Shop to buy bras. Surprisingly, this was fun. Something about knowing that these ladies fit bras all day was very freeing, and modesty went the way of the mastedon. I was wearing my bras too big (it’s okay boys, the number was too big, not the letter, so the legendary bounty is untouched; in fact, the girls are even more stunningly displayed by their new duds), now I have fit and comfort.
I did over spend on some art deco glass–but really, can you put a price on beauty? Apparently so, and it’s a tad high. Oh, the curse of having good taste!
It’s back to work for me. More tales of the city to follow.
Cheesecake, yummers! Why is that one recipe made in a blender and not a mixer I wonder? Every year I make myself a cake for my birthday and then dare people to eat it. Last year was purple grape flavored cake, not too good. Maybe this year I could do something in cheesecake and give my poor friends a rest on the exotic stuff. Although coconut cheesecake might be interesting. I have Alton Brown’s book, Bumba, have you made his cheesecake?
Welcome back Kallessa! Whatcha bring me? A present will soothe my jealousy over your fantabulous trip. Famous people, great shows, dessert, well fitted bras, I’m green like Kermit with envy. So tell me more about the bra fitting, because I’m interested in how they measured you. I just measure around my ribs, right below the girls, and then add five inches.
Also, May babies are the best. You Junies are a pretty close second.
Bumba, you better not be nearby and incognito. That’d be rude.
Some one has three small squares of Lindt chocolate in the freezer here at work. Now, I would never, ever steal someone’s food out of the fridge, never mind their chocolate.
On the other hand, it’s Lindt…
I must confess to being sorely tempted.
Ashes, Ashes, this is the amazing thing about The Town Shop, they measure you by eye. Yep. The younger one helping me did ask for confirmation from an older co-worker, but she just looked my over (with my shirt off, bra on) and then went and got what she thought would fit. And it did. Support can be beautiful.
Did I mention that I went to a Yankee’s game? They played Oakland and I wore green. Deliberately. I’m not an A’s fan, mind you, but I’m even less of a Yankee’s fan. Actually, I love the historical Yankee’s, I just don’t like the present incarnation. More precisely, I don’t like the management, which exploits its market base at the expense of the game as a whole, but then I’m somewhat of a dreamer when it comes to baseball. I have that fuzzy, “wasn’t it wonderful back in the old days” mentality and that’s how I like it. Anyway, the game was fine–a bit boring–too many homers, not enough strategy (what am I saying, it’s an American league team, there is no strategy, only homers). the fans in front of me had a lot of fun, really following the game, cheering in all the right places–the type of fans that fit well into the fantasy I want baseball to be. I thanked them at the end of the game, because I enjoyed the game more because of how mush they enjoyed it.
So, I suppose I didn’t mention that I stayed at the tackiest hotel in Manhatten, either? Yeah. The Grand Hyatt. It’s being remodeled, but, judging from the lobby area (already re-done) it’s being changed from a merely tiresomely tacky hotel to a spectacularly tacky hotel. Mirrors and water falls and marble, gold and chrome and earthtones. Swampy would have been overwhelmed at the sheer un-fabulousness of it all. The bar was not tacky, it fact, it even had a bit of class. Or maybe that’s the thirteen dollar martini talking.
Bumba, dearheart, where are you beaching?
Wintermute, you can resist the urge to steal the chocolate. Really, you can. You are stronger than that urge.
And to reward yourself, on the way home, get yourself [u[six** squares of chololate!
Nope, Shibb, we were in Washington state. Believe me, if I were in your neck of the woods, I’d be cavorting about (in a nice way, of course) with you and FCM and anyone else willing to be seen in public with me.
We were taking the waters in Ocean Park, my dear. We have a modest residence there. We motored back to the valley this afternoon to attend to some pressing business.
(Okay, it’s a 16’ x 18’ one room and a bath hovel, but we like it.)
Wanna know what I did last weekend? Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway.
Saturday morning we helped a friend move from her three-level house into a one-level condo. When we got there the moving party was already in full swing, with nobody in charge. Actually it was more like a street riot with furniture. But, as these things go, it went. By 1:00 we had pretty much everything moved to the new place, by the simple method of grabbing anything we could pick up and shoving it into the nearest vehicle. The neighbors wisely locked theirs up, so it worked out. Then we all sat around in friend’s new livingroom/warehouse and ate sub sandwiches. Then, properly bribed, the Missus and I bade our farewells, packed up our troubles in our old kit bags, along with some clothes, some food, and a laptop computer, and scurried over to our humble cabin. We also took magazines and books, and rented some movies at the local video store.
Saturday night we read and played on the computer. I read Big Trouble by Dave Barry. I was, need I say it? funny.
Sunday we walked on the beach and read.
Sunday night we watched Pirates of the Carribbean and Kill Bill Vol I
Pirates of the Carribbean was fun, well done, with some funny bits. I swear Johnny Depp was doing a gay pirate, with makeup by Tammy Faye Bakker, but it worked as well as the rest of the movie, so 2 thumbs up.
I liked Kill Bill Vol I, lots of kewl sword fights and buckets of blood, with plenty of wise-assery and camp thrown in. Even the Missus liked it, so 2 thumbs up again.
Monday we rode our bikes around, and read.
Monday night we watched Open Range and Master and Commander
Open Range was panned by the critics, but we liked it fine. Good acting, good dialogue, good characters, and a good gun fight. It even had a love story, if you like that sort of thing. 2 thumbs up again.
Master and Commander was pretty disappointing. I’ve been reading the books, and thought it was choppy, with not enough exposition, and just a mishmash of bits and pieces from the books taken out of context. They could have just taken the first book, Master and Commander, and made a very good movie out of that, without deviating very much from the original story, if you ask me. The Missus thought it was okay, but kinda “meh”. So 2 thumbs kinda down.
Today we cleaned up the cabin and came home.
THE END
When I lived in Genève (okay, Carouge) there was a little Chocolaterie (I’m not certain that’s what it was called in French, it was a Chocolate Boutique) that sold the most amazing chocolates. Lindt would have been looked down at in that place, I’m certain. All of the chocolates were made in the small kitchen in the back, and in the display it would just say where the cocoa beans were from and what percent chocolate it was. I’m fairly certain they were generally around 70% or higher, which is really strong chocolate, but once you get past the initial shock of all that flavor, wow, it was great. Several times I was inside, getting a nice little bar (for a friend, of course) and then sneaking off to a cafe for a cup of nice strong coffee, my hands shaking as I removed the simple wrap. Mmmm. We also had a Patisserie around the corner that sold pastries and chocolates, but these were more like truffles and not just solid chocolate bars. Also very good, but very different. Say what you like about French speaking peoples, but they sure know how to eat. I’m pretty sure I gained 10+ lbs in 6 months there. And don’t even get me started on the pain chocolate that I would sneak over the the border into Annemasse for on Saturday mornings. Exquisite!
Ya know, I LIVE in Washington state, and I just can’t get excited about the beaches on the coast. It’s usually cold and windy, and the sand just get into places it shouldn’t have any business reaching. The beaches up north are prettier, but the beaches in areas such as Ocean Shores, are…I dunno, just kinda sad and used up looking. I like the mountains better. In fact, I love the mountains. I used to drive to Mt. Rainier most every weekend, but haven’t been able to do that in years. You just wait, someday I’ll be an old hermitess living on the mountain in a one room bath and hovel accomodation, much like Bumba’s lovely digs.
Speaking of chocolate and cheesecake, I have an awsome recipe for a Chocolate Kahlua Cheesecake. I haven’t made it in awhile, but I may have to sally forth to the store and buy the requisite ingredients. It is to DIE for, chocolate, kahlua, espresso, cheesecake…all rolled into one glorious dessert.
I also just recently got the new Edward Rutherford book, but I’ll be danged if I’ve even had a chance to crack the spine on that puppy. Too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it in.
I need to go make dinner. I’m going to cheat though. I made s’ghetti last night and I have a ton of sauce left over. I made a lovely meat sauce that included red wine, balsamic vinegar, the requisite herbs, garlic, italian sausage, tomatoes and sauce. It was yummy, if I do say so myself. So, I just basically have to cook some noodles, heat the sauce…and voila…dinnertime!
Mebbe I’ll just sip me glass of wine while I’m in the midst of my culinary preparations…
Darlin’, I think I speak for all of us when I say you is funny most of the time. And the book was funny, too.
Yes, but Johnny Depp can pull off a gay, Tammie Faye-dified pirate and still be sexy as hell, so what’s your point?
I agree, a most enjoyable movie, showing the as a director, Costner is excellent at framing a shot, especially capturing the sheer space of the plains, and he has grown as a storyteller–this was a much less in-your-face morality tale that Dances With Wolves or Wyatt Earp, and yet still explored an interesting topic–the way war changes a man, and how he lives with himself after. However, as much as he has grown as a director, his pacing still sucks. If a director ever needed an editor to stand up to him more than Costner, I’ve yet to see it. Here’s a hint, Kevin (just in case he lurks), if nothing has happened for 10 minutes, it been not happening for too long.
Unlike the threads engendered by Rue’s MMP, which can not happen for hours, and still be happening.