Bipolar Sunburn

We had one good day of sun on our vacay--and I took full advantage of it. Despite wincing glances from everyone at the beach at my lobster-esque appearance, I was determined to come home with a tan.

The problem with sunburns is that you never know how truly crispy you are until you get home and survey the damage. Then you REALLY find out once you hop in the shower.

But the kicker is trying to sleep.

One minute you feel like your skin is going to burn off, like an ant under a magnifying glass. You can't get comfortable, and you strip all the sheets off of your skin--you can't bear to have anything touching you. You open the window before you drift off in hopes that a small breeze will have pity on you and cool your spontaneously combusting outer layer.

Then you wake up in the middle of the night freezing your ass off. Your teeth are chattering, you have goosebumps, and you grasp frantically for the blankets to cover yourself. You instantly regret going to bed with the window open, and wish you could gather the courage to come out from your down comforter burrito for the ten seconds it will take to close it.

But let me tell you that when I finally awoke the morning after to a golden complexion staring me back in the mirror, (I tried to ignore the raccoon eyes) the night of fitful sleep was entirely worth it. Come on, you can't come home from vacation without a tan. It's blasphemy.

I'm not dead, and a high five to the mitten state

K and I on the beach :)

I'm back kiddies! I swear I'm not dead. I just took a little roadtrip vacay to the mitten to visit my dad.

My dad lives on the west side of the mitten state, in the coolest place on the planet: Silver Lake. So we decided to travel through Canada and across the mitten to get there.

We thought going through Justin Bieber's home country would make the trip shorter. We were wrong. Fourteen hours and two frustrating stops at the border later, we were in the mitten. Canada, do we LOOK like we're trying to smuggle drugs in our cooler? Pipe it down.

Niagara Falls -- gorgeous!

We stopped in Niagara Falls for a night to break up the trip, which helped. (And was beautiful!) But I forgot how frustrating it is to travel through a foreign country, even if it is Canada. Our credit cards wouldn't work at the gas pumps, and trying to convert miles to kilometers to figure out the speed limit was a challenge. (Come on, you know I'm bad at math!)

We finally arrived in the mitten state, and the week was wonderful. It was great to spend some quality time with my dad and stepmom, and my stepsister and her son even stopped by for the weekend. It was so awesome.

K and TJ, playing in the water :)

K and TJ especially seemed to hit it off, and he has since become known as "the guy with the beard."

We spent most of the rainy week just talking and catching up, and then we made it to the beach for the last day, which was awesome!

I forgot how much it centers you to be around family. I think I needed this trip more than I realized.

We finally had to say our goodbyes and make the long journey back home. The trip back took us about 16 hours, and we were exhausted when we got home. But it was SO worth it.

The Husband Test

I've had a bipolar week, okay? Awesome happy high on Saturday, and THEN... yesterday. I was on my way to return the keg from the par-tay and go see my sister for dinner after work when I pulled out of the driveway and my car started smoking.

Of COURSE this would happen on a day that K is traveling for work. Fucking awesome.

I stopped the car, popped the hood (yes, I can make it through that much by myself) and called K, trying to keep my panic and yelling to a minimum.

Epic fail.

K: Hello?
Me: HELLO?? MY FUCKING CAR IS ON FIRE.
K (totally calm): What? Honey, calm down.
Me: HOW CAN I CALM DOWN?? MY CAR IS SMOKING. IN OUR DRIVEWAY.
K: Oh shit honey. Okay... where is the smoke coming from?
Me: THE HOOD!? HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW?
K: Where exactly? Can you tell?
Me: Under the giant black plastic thing!!
K: The valve cover?
Me: YES.
K: Okay, well why don't you check the oil--just see if you need to put a little more in. You should be okay until I get home.
Me: Well how the fuck do I do that?? I'm already fucking late. This is so FUCKING STUPID.
K: You pull out the dipstick, it should say 'engine oil' on it.
Me: The yellow one?
K: I'm not sure. Does it say 'engine oil' on it?
Me: NO. It doesn't say ANYTHING.
K: Okay, well pull it out-- and let me know where the oil line is between 'FULL' and 'ADD'.
Me: It doesn't SAY add. It just says 'Min' and 'Max'
K: Um... okay. Well where is the line at?
Me: I don't know! It's in between!
K: Are you sure you're checking the right dipstick?
Me: How many fucking dipsticks are there??
K: Well it should say 'engine oil' on it.
Me: WELL IT DOESN'T.
(long pause as I survey the hood...)
Me: (sheepishly) Wait. I found another one.
K: Does it say 'engine oil' on it?
Me: Yes.
K (patiently, resisiting the urge to say "I told you so"): Okay. Well pull that one out.
Me: It's at 'Add'
K: Okay, well you just need to add a little bit of oil and then you should be okay until I get home.
Me: (freaking out) WHAT? I don't know how the hell to do that!! What the FUCK, THIS IS SO STUPID. I FUCKING HATE THIS. I'M ALREADY LATE, AND NOW I JUST SHOULDN'T GO.
K: Honey, you can do this--it will only take a minute.
Me: I HATE THIS!! FINE! WHAT DO I DO?
K: Okay, the first step is... go upstairs.
Me: FOR WHAT?
K: Sit down at the kitchen table.
Me: (grumbling)
K: Grab a carebear, give it a hug.
Me: (starting to snicker)
K: You're not doing it, are you? I don't even think you're actually hugging a carebear.
Me: (finally cracks a smile) Fiiiiine. You know, you're the only person who can actually calm me down after a mood like that, right? I was like Home Depot Crabby times ten.
K: Well it's not easy to do.. but I try.

And there it is, folks. The Husband Test. To see if your boyfriend will make a good husband someday and figure out how to get you out of a Home Depot angry mood while you are screaming at him. K passed with flying colors, he knows carebears are my weakness.

We did it! Surprise party for the big guy!

Well kittens, we did it. We surprised K! I honestly thought he knew all about the party, or at least most of it, since he came home from work and immediately mowed the lawn, found the pans of cheesy potatoes I hid in the fridge, and helped me keep the house clean. Turns out, he didn't know.

Great SUCCESS!

A carebear birthday all around.

The weekend was initially supposed to be gorgeous, and three days before the party the weather report called for rain. My whole plan to get him out of the house was to take him on a cruise at a nearby lake, and when we woke up to rain, I panicked.

My sister and his best friend were on their way to our house at noon, and low and behold my worst nightmare--at 12:30, half an hour after we were supposed to have left, K sat in front of the TV, unshowered, playing mortal kombat.

The kitchen, complete with baby pictures of K.

I gave his brother the death stare, and he and his gf helped me get him moving. We left the house under the guise of going to a car show in a neighboring town, and I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally left the house. I sent my sister a text:

"The eagle has left the nest."

While we puttered around at the car show and shopping, my sister and his best friend came to the house and decorated EVERYTHING. We spent a few hours out and about, then we convinced K to get us back to the house.

We pulled into the driveway, the garage door opened, and all you could see were our friends and family all standing there with birthday hats on. I was honestly moved to tears, it was so incredibly cool. The look on K's face was priceless, and I am so glad we were able to surprise him.

The slip n slide... and yes, he actually went down it.

We all had a great time at the party, it was a late night filled with a slip n slide, birthday cake, presents, and a little (okay, a LOT) of alcohol. We had friends and family travel several hours just to be there, and I feel so incredibly lucky to have them in my life. Thank you to everyone for making the day great! :)

The sweatiest birthday cake EVER.

It's 88 degrees in the house. We forgot to put the air conditioners in before K left for work again, and so I've been sweating my ass off. Not to mention the fact that I've been baking like a maniac, trying to make K a cake for his bday.

I was in the middle of mixing the cake ingredients, (box, not from scratch--you kids put too much faith in my domestication) one meal already in the oven with 16 min to go, when I realized that there is one thing you can't make a cake without.

Fucking eggs.

I'm sweating, I've got a meal already in the oven, but I HAVE to get this cake baked before K gets home. Not to mention I'm doing this all on my lunch break (thank GOD for working from home on days like today.)

Pop quiz, hot shot. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

I had two options: wait until the potatoes were out of the oven, turn OFF the oven, run to the store after my lunch break (which I NEVER do, I get anxious just thinking about it.) Or grab my purse and run to the store with 16 minutes left on the timer, leaving my oven on and cooking. Most of you know that I am borderline OCD when it comes to the oven, and I check it about three times every time I leave the house. At least. So choosing option B was a tough choice, but I REALLY wanted that cake done before K gets home.

So I squealed into the parking lot, dashing around dodging seniors and small children like they were cars in Frogger. I pictured myself as the pixelated amphibian, hopping from aisle to aisle with precision. I even knew which aisles I needed to hit before I went into the store.

I made it back to the house with 4 minutes to spare. I have truly never been prouder of myself. I sure hope K likes his cake. I tried not to sweat in it too much.

T-minus two days until the surprise, people-- wish me luck!

The Big Surprise

You thought I was kidding, didn't you?

So tomorrow is K's 30th birthday. I don't think he ever reads this (much to my chagrin), so I'm pretty sure I'm safe in divulging details to you guys. And if you are K, then you better stop reading right now or I'll give you a noogie.

For the last several weeks, I've been planning a surprise party/BBQ for him scheduled this coming Saturday. I FORGOT how stressful it is to plan a party like this! I mean, it's hard enough to have a party at your house (with the cleaning, getting food together, keg, etc.) without having to worry that some of these things are going to give away your secret (where the eff do you hide 30 burgers, enough cheese and crackers for 8 people, a keg and a helium tank??)

I'm still trying to figure out a way to get him out of the house on Saturday. People are coming over at 3, so I figure if I can get him out of the house around noon and go do something for a few hours, we can be back here at 3:30 for the surprise.

I'm SURE that he knows something is up. It's really hard to keep a straight face when he suggests we go on VACATION this weekend and I have to stumble on my words and make up a reason why we CAN'T go this weekend. Like that I have an imaginary doctor's appointment that I absolutely cannot miss. People stop asking questions when they hear 'pap smear.'

But even if he does know something is up, there are still little details that he won't know about. Like the present that my sister, brother in law JB and I all pitched in and got him. Or his surprise guest. Or the fact that I have five giant carebears sitting at my kitchen table with birthday hats on right now. This is not a joke people. We are serious about birthdays in this house.

So while I vomit from the pressure of trying to keep this party a secret, stay tuned for the details of how this shin dig works out. And wish me luck! :)

Police Blotter Monday: The Street Masturbator

May 19 - 5:55pm
A caller reported to police seeing a man step into the street, drop his pants and begin to masturbate in the Washington Avenue area the previous night about 9:30pm. The caller said she was not sure she could identify the subject but wanted to report the incident in case it happens again.

Oh, Stars Hollow--how you've evolved from a one horse town to a red light district. I guess it's mating season, so those who can't find a mate - drop their pants in the street and go to town.

I guess I can see it: a hot Wednesday evening in the spring, out for a nice walk before the sun goes down, and you want everyone in town to know how you're feeling--especially that nice old lady on Washington Ave.

What I don't understand is, why in the middle of the street? You could have at least stayed on the sidewalk so you didn't create a traffic hazard. Or even done your business in the privacy of your own home on whore island. And couldn't you have waited until it was actually dark, at say--oh, 10pm?

I guess when the mood strikes, you get caught up in the moment.

As for me, I'm super pissed I missed this spectacle. But I'll take the old lady's word for it, and keep my eye out for creepy strangers unbuckling their belts in the middle of the street.

Dirty dirty sex, or a dirty dirty pig.

My sister and future brother in law (JB--short for Johnny Bananas) have a new neighbor. A short, hairy, oinky new neighbor.

That's right... a pig.

The kicker is that they live in an apartment. And so do the people next to them, who own the pig. They also have three kids and a dog.

What is this, a clown car? Where do you fit all of these creatures?

JB told my sister a few weeks ago that he thought he heard squeaking, or some odd noise coming from the neighboring apartment. My sister told him he was crazy... until she saw the hog for herself. Standing in her upstairs bathroom a few days later, she could see down into the neighbor's back yard and noticed a wire fence, a kiddie pool, and a giant, brown PIG.

She immediately called JB and told him he had been right all along. And bowed down to his animal noise deciphering skills. Okay, maybe not so much. But still--he was RIGHT.

This was his reaction: "I knew it! I just... I heard oinking, and I thought... it's either dirty dirty sex, or a dirty dirty pig."

So until we figure out what the hell kind of circus act their neighbors have going on over there, we will continue to stand with our faces pressed up against their fence, trying to catch a glimpse of Wilbur the pig.

Nothing like the warm scent of cat piss early in the morning.

I spent my weekend ripping the couch on our deck limb from limb. I felt a little bad about it, but once I got started you couldn't stop me. I even got a crowbar out. I know, right?? I used TOOLS.

Over the winter, it became apparent that the neighborhood cats had turned the couch into their own personal litter box. Nothing like the warm scent of cat piss early in the morning.

Despite K's presence, I took care of this motha myself.

We called the garbage company and they don't pick up large items. They suggested we chop up the couch and put the pieces in our bin.

So what did I do with the pissy couch? Took a crowbar to it.

It cost me six hours, a vicious sunburn and an incredibly sore back, but I got that mother chopped up. And I will get it in our trash bin if it kills me.

Items found in the bottom of the couch: screwdriver, nailclippers, a lighter? And...a cigarette butt. SAFE!