Oct 30, 2010

Happy Halloween (in cartoon form)

My sketchbook was abondoned.  Sad sketchbook.  And my lame-o art skills are depressing.  Sad unskilled me.  So I've decided to actually put forth an effort to sketch again.  With like a REAL pencil (because I've gotten so used to a stylus I keep thinking, "UNDO UNDO" every time I mess something up in real life).

Therefore....

drum roll, please....

For your viewing pleasure, I give you a Halloweeniscious cartoon.....about me (see the ponytails?  Me.  Plus, see how one of my pupils is bigger than the other one?  I told you - going blind  - yes, they really are like that, and yeah, that's just messed up):





(You should be able to click on the strips to see everything bigger - 'cause you know you want to.)

And because mummy-butt-biting is about as morbid as I can get without having to spew forth something nauseatingly cute, I also drew this:

My fingers seem to be more comfortable with cute than with morbid.  I was thinking it would be nice to draw something with an eyeball halfway falling out, or some slime oozing out of somewhere grotesque.  Because it's almost Halloween, so it should be gross, right? 

Nope.

Mummy-butt-biting.  And then pinch-your-cheek sweetness. 

I guess it's just what I do.

Oct 27, 2010

forty-two gumball movie parents

I have the number forty-two stuck in my head.  I don't know why.  And what normal person has a number stuck in their head for no good reason?!  Honestly.
Yet, here I am, thinking, "Forty-two, forty-two,  forty-two,  forty-two,  forty-two..."

It could be the crazy pills.

I paired them with caffeine tonight.

It's like a party in my brains. 

(I typo-ed the 's' on 'brain', then fixed it, then decided that it looked better in the plural sense, even though, technically speaking, it's wrong, or I just have more than one brain, I'm not really sure these days, to tell you the truth.)

You know what else?

I have a thing for gumballs.

The thing is, I really like them. 

Not enough that I force Husband on evening runs to the corner grocery store just for some (like I do with m&m's).  But when I see a gumball, all I can think is, "Gumball, gumball, gumball, gumball, gumball, gumball, gumball..."  until I pop it in my mouth, chew it for 2 seconds until the flavor is gone and then spit it in the trash.

It's a compulsion, I tell you.  A gumball compulsion.

FORTY-TWO.

I called an eye dr in another state this morning, because I woke up really really angry.  (Also thanks to the crazy pills.)  I decided that the Lord of the Dance is taking WAY TOO LONG scheduling my surgery.  So yeah,  I called a new dr.  Because it's going to be SO MUCH EASIER having surgery in another state....

You know how movie parents are always saying "funny" cliche phrases that are usually used in other situations but are so much more "funny" because it came out of a parent's mouth?  I've turned into one of those parents.  (You can also substitute "annoying" for "funny", if you so desire.)

Earlier I heard Two Bits and Opie smacking each other.  So I called them into the room and told them that if they wanted to smack each other around they could go ahead and do it, "right here, right now". 

Opie seriously considered it - I could see his little Opie brain going, thinking of multiple karate moves, no doubt.  Then Two Bits ran screaming to her room.  So it pretty much ended up being a rousing success in the whole parenting department.

And then later as Monkey was doing his regular, "But I need to find something!!"  routine that gets him out of bed 50 billion times, I kept having to yell stuff like, "Drop the block!  DROP IT MISTER!!"  and "Just back away slowly..."

I think with lines like these I could totally be in a movie.

Yup.

FORTY-TWO.

Oct 23, 2010

dancing to Plan C

I haven't mentioned it yet, but I'm going blind.  Oh, that's right - I mention it all the time.

For the past month-ish my eye Dr and I have been doing this little dance.  It goes:

I wait to get into his busy busy office.  Sometimes I pirouette while I wait.

The Dr finally comes in, he does some amazingly uncoordinated leaps and says, "Oh wow," and writes down bad stuff on his chart.  Then he suggest trying something obnoxious and tells me to come back next week.

Then it's my turn.  I clog a little and say, "Yeah, but then what?"

The Dr prances towards the door and says, "We'll probably have to rush you into surgery."  And then he continues on.  To the billion old people he tap dances for on a daily basis.

For a week at a time I try obnoxious plan A, B, or C (C stands for Crazy).

But everytime we dance in his office it's always the same thing.

Until last thursday. 

Last thursday's dance had a particularly gruesome ending.  The Dr turned into the Lord of the Dance.  Just because he can.  Making everyone else follow along in Riverdance style as he kept all the power.

Now I'm on Plan C (for Crazy) for an indefinite period of time.  Until my Dr's schedule opens up enough to save the vision I have left in my eye.  (And save my sanity.)  Because no one, and I mean NO ONE, will inconvenience the Lord of the Dance's schedule.  How could you even suggest that?

Plan C involves oral medication that keeps me dangling on the dangerzone line (instead of riding rollercoasters through it).  But it turns me into a crazy person.  IN ALL SERIOUSNESS.

Sometimes I feel like my skin is too tight for my body.

I can't eat anything cold because it makes my tongue and mouth go completely numb and get prickly (like when you sit on your foot and it falls asleep).

I get headaches.  Pain medication resistant ones. 

And the feeling of puke.

I can't use my fingers for very long before they go numb too.

My brain gets foggier with each day I take it.  I forget things like putting the car in park before getting out.

But mostly, I just FEEL crazy.  I snap.  Without provocation.  It's way beyond irritability.  Irritability is my normal state of being.  This is just crazy.  I don't know if it's because my body is overloaded with all the other side effects, or if this is just a side effect on it's own.




I really hate the Lord of the Dance.

Oct 19, 2010

peeves

(These are not pet peeves, because it's not like I feed them or take them for walks, and therefore they do not earn the title of "pet".)

Plain Milk:
I like chocolate milk, and strawberry milk, and milk shakes, and Milky Ways and I like to cook with milk.  But drinking plain old milk all by itself?  BLECK.  Yes, I do realize this makes me look juvenile.  No, I don't mind looking juvenile.  And if you're going to make me gag down a glass of milk, you better make it skim so it's not all thick and grody.  And also, you should include lots of cookies, because that would probably help.

Lady Cramps:
Honestly, there's no need to embelish on this topic.

Loud Jets That Fly Over My House Really Low Just to Freak Me Out:
Why do they have to do that?  Why so low?  You know what my brain automatically thinks of when I hear them?  Air Raids.  Like how in Englad they had all those bombings and so everyone had to send their kids away to live in the country so they wouldn't die.  That's what it makes me think of.  Except that I'm hearing jets and not those huge bombers they used to fly around.  But still.  I think of bombs.  There is NO NEED for really loud jets to fly low over my house and make me think of bombs.  Have they no consideration for my feelings?

Barney:
As if the older Barney shows weren't obnoxious enough, now they show it in a colored frame in which the colors change throughout the show.  Because I guess if you get bored of watching the actual show, you can just focus on the changing colors since THAT is so much more entertaining.

Walmart:
They had no angel wings in the entire store this morning, which is maddening since I decided I want to dress Number Four as an agel for Halloween but I really don't want to create my own wings and/or spend a fortune to get them elsewhere.  What kind of world do we live in that Walmart doesn't carry something as simple as angel wings?!!

Maturity:
I hate being all sensible and grown-up-ish.  I really wanted to dress Two Bits and Opie as Buffy and Spike to go Trick-or-Treating.  I even spent weeks talking them into the idea.  But now that they've finally concented I feel all guilty forcing them to forget their Halloween ideas and go with my costume plans.  The guilt was particularly strong this morning, while at the cursed Walmart, and I caved and bought an Iron Man costume for Opie.  So much for Spike and Buffy.  I was even going to bleach Opie's hair and paint his nails black in true Spike fashion.   *sigh*

Oct 15, 2010

slug bug yellow, smart fart blue

The other day I taught my kids how to play "slug bug" in the car. 

Although I'm pretty sure everyone on the planet is required to know what this game is, there might be someone somewhere who doesn't know, so here are the rules:

1- See a Volkswagon Beetle of any year
2- Punch your nearest neighbor and say "Slug Bug Yellow!"  (or whatever the color of the Volkswagon Beetle you see.)
3- You have to punch your neighbor before they punch you (hence the "slug" part of the game).
4- I can't remember why you have to do it first.  You just do.  So punch first, ok?

When Two Bits got confused and asked why anyone would ever want to play "Slug Bug" I very expertly told her, "Because it's fun to punch people."  And that was the end of the questions.

I also taught them what a "perdiddle" was. 

I don't even know how to spell "perdiddle".  And since my spell check is going all highlighty (like it does on the word "highlighty") I'm thinking I'm way off, but really don't care how it's spelled.

If you grew up under a rock or had some sort of deprived childhood and have no idea what a "perdiddle" is either, here are the rules:

1- See a car with one headlight out
2- Kiss your hand
3- Hit the ceiling of the car
4- Say "perdiddle!!"
5- Do it before anyone else in the car.  Because you get to keep score on this one.  And perdiddle semi's count for about 10 points.  Unless you're playing with your husband and then they count 20 for you and -5 for him.

("Perdiddle" is always a good game to play with a boyfriend because you can say that the points are worth actual kisses, or minutes kissing.  And then your boyfriend will lose on purpose, and let you get tons and tons of points, because then you'll be kissing him a long time, and it's not like that really makes him a loser at all.  It's not such a fun game to play once your married though.  Unless the points equal butt-kissing minutes in which you can force your husband to do rubbing your feet, or washing toilets.)

Since it was still light ourside and the kids couldn't really play "perdiddle" they asked if there were any more fun car games where they got to hit stuff and yell.  But I didn't know any.  So I thought it would be fun to think of my own car game.

Now you can teach your kids "Smart Fart" next time you're trapped in the car with them.  It's gonna be great.  Here are the rules:

1- See a Smart Car
2- Yell, "Smart Fart Blue" (Or whatever color the car is that you see.)
3- And then - NO, NOT FART.  Because eeeeew.  Punching people is one thing.  Farting is a whole other matter. - you put your thumb on your forehead and spread your fingers apart which is the official international sign of "it wasn't me."
4- If you're the last one to make the "it wasn't me" sign after seeing a smart car, then everyone else gets to make smelly jokes about you all they want.

See?  It's great!

Oct 14, 2010

a header JUST FOR YOU

Looky looky, I'll customize this Halloweeniscious blog header JUST FOR YOU.  (For the phenomenally low fee of $4.)  Because a customized Halloween blog header is WAAAAAAAY better than a regular generic Halloween blog header any day.




Email me if you want one:  melissabastow AT hotmail.com

Oct 13, 2010

Betty and Me (and our foot long goldfish trout)

I had a dream last night that I was roommates with Betty Suarez (from the show Ugly Betty).  Except she didn't work for Mode or anything.  We were just in college.  In fact, I think she worked in the book store.  But I think we still lived in New York.

Betty had this guy who was totally hot for her, so he kept following us around in the dream.  And then he started bringing his friends along.  And every situation we were in was sitcom-like insanity where things are always over the top and in real life you sit there and watch it thinking, "like THAT would ever happen."

I don't remember all of it, but it went on for pretty much EVER.  At one point, we were hosting a party, but we didn't really know any of the guests besides the guy who liked Betty.  But then one of the guy's friends found out I was an artist and was like, "Oh yeah?  Me too."  And then he almost started coming onto me.

Except that's when the instantaneous flood from nowhere happened.  And also there were fireworks involved.  And I don't think we had a ceiling for awhile, but then it was back.

But then Betty and I found that her guy's friend -the one that might like me- had left me a message in code by using plastic dinosaurs laid out on a bench.  And as we were trying to decide if the mean looking, half brontosaurus, half dragon meant "I'm evil and I eat babies for breakfast" or "let's make out" our gold fish kept trying to escape from his bowl, which was horribly distracting.  Especially since our goldfish was probably about a foot long and we expected it to live in a regular fish bowl.  And also the goldfish looked like a trout, but we were all calling it a goldfish, so whatever.

Once I brilliantly realized that our fish lived better in the flooded apartment ('cause we were figuring out dinosaur clues while the flood continued and was now about knee deep) my dream decided to dramatically shift for a few seconds.

So then I was with one of my real college roommates, from when I was really in college.  And I was tagging along as she ran through a housing complex for dance team members (this roommate was actually on the dance team, so this actually made some sense, sort of). 

We ran from room to room checking people's flarp for contamination.  And finally we found some, so then we woke the girl up (because they were all sleeping) and took her and the contaminated flarp to another girl's room.  As I checked the new flarp, they woke up the other girl by jumping on her bed. 

Then I said, "The flarp is clean," in an authoritative military scientist voice.

And then the three of them sat around talking about the dance team, and how sad it was that people had to graduate from college and move on with life.  And I quietly serenaded the conversation with my best flarp noises.

**BRAIN BREAK - - I just needed to interrupt my dream with some info.  Flarp, for those of you who don't know, is a slimy goo that comes in a little plastic cup.  The object of flarp is to get air pockets in the bottom of the cup, and push the flarp so that as the air pockets are slowly released to make surprisingly authentic farting noises.  END BREAK**

So after that I jumped back to being Betty's roommate.  And we had a new non-flooded apartment.  And we had gotten rid of the goldfish.  And I was trying to work on an art assignment, but apparently it involved doodling and I couldn't find a pen. 

Then the guys showed up.  And while Betty flirted with her guy, I tried to figure out if his friend liked me or was just a weirdo.  So we talked about art a little.  And about how my walls were covered in those big wall sticker things you can get at Target, except that I didn't get them at Target, because apparently they had come in a series of Happy Meals.

And then my dream self couldn't decide if it wanted to be current fat and ugly Melissa or past cute and skinnier Melissa, which probably confused the dream guy, because he ended up leaving with the rest of the guys while I tried to plug in my laptop, even though I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single outlet in that whole stupid apartment.  Because I kept looking and never found one.

And then I woke up and realized I should have gotten out of bed a half hour ago, and ran like a crazy person to get everyone ready for school.

I would say the scariest part of my dream was that the guy who may or may not have had a crush on me and/or wanted to eat babies for breakfast was an oriental emo teenager with skinny jeans, and that I think dream me found him attractive.  SKINNY JEANS....shudder.  But once I dreamed about Kid Rock, so now my theory is just that dream me is really demented.

Oct 12, 2010

you can never have too many posts about boobs

Do you think anyone has ever really worn a coconut bra in seriousness?  Like they had nothing else to cover their boobs, so they were like, "Hey look, coconuts!" 

Because I seriously doubt it.

Just like I really highly doubt mermaids slap starfish to their chests and call it an ensemble.  Or use coordinating seashells.  Because seashells would be just as uncomfortable as coconuts.  And I think the starfish would probably just try to eat mermaid boobs if they were the bra of choice.

So that leaves one to wondering....

If you were trapped on an island filled with coconuts, but no bras, would you try it? 

Or would you reach into the ocean and look for some seashells/boob-eating-starfish?

Because I'm thinking, in that type of situation, I would just do what the women in remote parts of Africa do.  Just let it all hang out.  Let them sag and swing.  And, if need be, stretch them to feed hungry babies in opposite directions from two feet away.  Because I saw an African woman do that on tv once.

Plus, my boobs are already pretty saggy.  It's not like a couple of dorky old coconuts are going to keep them from dragging on the ground.

Oct 8, 2010

look, I'm a sculptor

I call this: smiling through a migraine.

The next piece in this series will probably be focused on something like PMS or hang nails.

Oct 6, 2010

horror movies

I don't understand why they never make horror movies about sabre tooth tigers living in your garage.  I think a movie like that would be terrifying.  Because the threat is so incredibly real.

Just picture it:

You have to get into your minivan in the middle of the night.  Rummaging through the front seat for that important scrap of paper you wrote on, and then forgot about, and then lost.  The best rummaging involves legs halfway sticking out of the open door, and lots of distracted leaning. 

As you dig and lean, the sabre tooth tiger silently stalks around the boxes of old baby clothes and Christmas decorations. 

And then suddenly:
CHOMP.

Your dead.

Totally real threat.  And even if you make it back into the house mostly unscathed, you're going to hear the sabre tooth tiger bumping around in the garage, probably punching walls in hungry frustration.

It's better just to wait until daylight to go rummaging through the minivan in the garage, since that's when the tiger returns to it's lair or cave or whatever.

Speaking of horror movies, I watched Amityville 3D last night (although I really didn't see anything 3D about it).  It was so very very LAME.  Of course it was made in 1983, so it's not like they had state of the art digital effects to throw in.  But their ghost hunting thermal imaging device?  How embarrassing.  The robotic demon puppet that came shooting out of the "portal to hell" at the end?  So so so very lame. 

In completely different news: I'm officially going blind.  Ok, technically the official blindness started when my glaucoma kicked in.  But now it's all sorts of serious.

I saw my eye dr yesterday.  My non-surgeoned eye has been causing problems (more than usual) the past few weeks, so it was no surprise that the pressure was at an all time high.  I go in for a visual field test on friday.  Which is basically when you look into this dome, stare at a dot, and push a button every time you see a little shimmer of light.  It tests for blind spots.  I'm expecting to bomb it.  In fact, when they get the print out, it will probably just say "You're officially going blind!" in bold, and possibly italics.  And then the machine will probably give me a high five, because seriously, HOW AWESOME.

Oct 1, 2010

a list - the first draft

I'm all in Christmas mode today.  Not sure why, since, you know, it's October 1st.  All I know is that I've been thinking all day of awesome things Santa could bring my kids this year.

I know that the Santa gifts have to be stellar this year, because we're instituting the "1 gift to wear, 1 gift to read, 1 gift to play with" thing at our house.  I'm pretty sure the concept will kill me dead.  I have a major tendency to go overboard at Christmas.  And by overboard, I mean, TOTALLY INSANE.  My kids get spoiled and our bank calls and asks if our credit cards have been stolen due to all the purchases.

Last year, when we were super horrendously broke, I ended up making a gazillion gifts.  Making gifts is ok for a few things.  But a gazillion home made gifts just turned me into a sleep-deprived, over-stressed, Scrooge-like maniac.  And that was NO FUN.  Hence the vow to do the simple, everyone gets 3 gifts thing.

Except that the Santa gift doesn't count - it's not part of the deal.  Because my kids are all still young enough to harbor the myth and would probably croak on Christmas morning if we told them Santa was in on our 3 gift policy.

So this is what Santa is thinking about bringing:

Have you seen the new Leapster Explorer?  We got a couple of Leapster 2's a few years ago.  But the Explorer?  WAY MORE AWESOME.  The thing has apps.  Yeah.  For your 4-8 year old.  I don't even have apps.  I was happy enough when I figured out how to text.  Opie would probably run through hot coals to get a Leapster Explorer.

I've wanted to get Monkey a real guitar for about 2.4 years.  He used to be obsessed with guitars.  So I thought once he phased out of his destruction streak and grew fingers long enough to play a Baritone Ukelele the world would be infinetly better.  Except that he hasn't quite done either.  Plus, Baritone Ukelele's?  EXPENSIVE.  So now I'm just thinking regular ukelele, and if it has a palm tree painted on it, even better.

You know what I want to get Number Four?  (This was decided after much online surfing and thoughtful pondering on the subject.)  A big cardboard house and a major package of crayons.  What with her love of coloring on walls, this is perfect, I tell you.

Is a 7 year old too young for an ipod?  Because I don't even have one yet.  But then again, I would rather stream than buy songs ANY day.  I think I just need to get a phone that will actually go online and let me play Pandora whenever I want.  Except that would probably require an app, and you know, I don't have any (not that I have an app-compatible phone anyawy).  But I think Two Bits would like some kind of MP3 player, as long as it came with cute headphones - her priorities are rather 7-year-old-like.

You know what Santa is going to bring me?!!  (Because I found that too.)  I have been wanting a Rubicks Cube for pretty much ever.  Or at least since last february when I used one to make Husband a photo cube for Valentine's Day and then Two Bits got a hold of it and twisted it until it was a disaster and I played with it for a week trying to figure it out just to end up giving up and peeling off all the little photo squares and rearranging them back on the right sides.  That was frustrating.  I want a second round with the Rubicks Cube, but I'm totally not peeling off photo squares to get it.  So I need a new one.  But I don't want any regular old Rubicks Cube.  No way.  I found one on ebay that was a SUDOKU RUBICKS CUBE.  I know!!!  I almost peed a little in excitement.

So pretty much that's my list.  Except for Husband.  Maybe I'll just stick some socks in his stocking this year.  It worked so well last year.  And after I get done spending all that money on my kids, I won't have any cash left to get him anything remotely cool.  I'll probably change my mind about 783.2 times before I buy anything anyway.  But as long as I get my Sudoku Rubicks Cube, Christmas will be awesome.