Thursday, April 30, 2009

Revelations 4:30:09

For three years I've driven past a Ukrainian church on State Road and I've been perplexed by a sign in the yard that says "Pyrohy Here." I would furrow my brow (unwittingly contributing to the inevitable formation of The Wrinkle) and wonder to myself, "What the fuck kinda religiousness is a Pyrohy?" Pronouncing it to myself "Pie-Row-Fee". I finally figured it must be a cousin to that other religious word I don't understand, "Liturgy". Come forth, Sinners: Get your Pyrohy and Liturgy here!
Then, on the way home from work tonight the sign said "Pyrohy Open Today" and I thought, "Huh??" And then I said it slow to myself, with a "he" on the end instead of a "fee" and realized that it's Pi-Row-Hee" as my Slovak grandmother pronounces it and the lightbulb lit up over my head: PIEROGI!!! They sell nun-made Pierogi!! RIGHT DOWN THE STREET FROM MY HOUSE!! And all this time I've been driving right on past, when I could have been getting my own little dose of churching in the form of a potato and cheese stuffed dough pocket, handcrafted with love by nuns! So I think next week I will stop for some churching and pick up some Pyrohy. Perhaps Liturgy is actually some type of nun-made Hungarian strudel.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Wrinkle In Time

I've had a cough since December. Not just a polite little "huh-huh", but a guttural wracking cough that has caused me to 1/ pee my pajama pants on occasion 2/have my life threatened to be suffocated outta me with a pillow by my Mr. and 3/ - and so far the WORST THING IMAGINABLE - 3/. I noticed a deepening vertical crease between my brow, in the EXACT PLACE my face furrows when I cough.
Reader, I have spent thousands of dollars and have committed years and years of dedicated moisturizing to prevent such creases. I began hyper-moisturizing maintenance when I was twelve years old. Twelve. That's a lot of years, but I've prided myself on not having road maps on my face. A few light laugh lines, sure. But furrows - Never. Until now. I'm on a three-point plan of attack:
  1. Gallons of water and green tea consumption
  2. Continuous smoothing out of the brow area with delicate fingertips, especially during a coughing fit
  3. Investment in new skin care routine, to the tune of $62.50 for the new Oil of Olay Professional something-or-other, money-back-guarantee bottles of promise

And I may have to go get this cough checked out. It's a smoker's cough, and I've never even smoked. My new manager is on a mission with our corporate maintenance department to check the air quality of our area, as everyone is sick with something and who knows, it may be related. It started when I got moved to my new office back in December. My new cube just happens to be the place that a sewage flood occurred back in the Fall. Related or coincidence? Well, I don't know, but if I find out it's the source, I'll be demanding compensation in the form of Botox. Who cares about my overall health as long as I remain unfurrowed. I have priorities.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A Real Douchebag.

Conversation overheard at the funeral I attended today:

Lady: "So my husband says that when he goes, he wants to be cremated."
Other Lady: "Oh, really?"
Lady: "Yep. And then he asked if I could put the ashes in a douche and give him one more pass through."
Other Lady: Laughing and Laughing.
Me: Pretending to ignore this whole thing. Secretly thinking: "I cannot WAIT to blog this!"

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Bringing Sexy Back.

Monday night Kenny called and asked me if I wanted to meet him for a quick bite to eat somewhere around Parmatown Mall. His truck was at Walmart getting a leaky tire fixed so he was knocking around with nuttin' to do. "Sure," I said. "Well, don't expect it to be a sexy dinner or anything, probably just something in the strip (sounds sexy!) or in the food court."
We settled on the Japanese hibachi place next door to Chipotle. We'd never been there before. Looked interesting enough, had a lot of clientele including some Asian-inspired folks, so we figured it couldn't be too bad. They offered a large sushi selection, which Kenny was thrilled about. For dessert, they had this:

Green ice cream, the exact color of the wasabi (comparison in the small dish). We concurred it must be pistachio. It wasn't pistachio, but it wasn't wasabi, either.
Kenny: "What does it taste like?"
Me: "Um....I guess perfume. Maybe someone accidentally dropped perfume into the container."
Kenny: "Perfume?? Let me try that!"

Kenny: "Huh. You're right. Perfume."
On the way out we asked the person at the register, who told us it was green-tea flavored. Maybe. Maybe jasmine green tea. But still too much like perfume. Maybe it was trying to bring Sexy Back to ice-cream.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Get That Lapdance Outta My Face

Saturday night we had tickets to see Chelsey Handler at the State Theater. We decided to make an evening of it and cash in on one of the nights I had won at the Marriott. We got downtown around 5:30, checked into our room, where we were happily pleased to see how nice our room was. They've done a remodel of the hotel and our room was really well-appointed, and we had nice views of the city.

We took a cab over to the State Theater, where we had dinner at Star, the adjoining restaurant. It was overpriced, but I guess you pay for convenience. I had calamari and duck. Kenny had mini beef wellington and scallops. Then we headed next door to see Chelsey.

She was entertaining, but used a lot of the material that I had just read in her Horizontal Life book. There were a couple of hecklers in the audience, which I really don't understand. Why pay money to go there and yell at the entertainers? They only succeeded in pissing off the audience. Chelsey just told them to just shut the fuck up, which was good. She also did a whole masturbation skit and got so involved with it that she ended up hitting herself in the lip with her microphone and gave her a fat bleeding lip for the rest of the show.
After the show Kenny convinced me that we should just walk back to our hotel. I was a little apprehensive, seeing as two dudes recently got shot in the head in downtown Cleveland, but the weather was perfect for an evening stroll so walk we did. Took a few touristy snapshots along the way:

The hotel had the best beds! We slept very soundly, and it was extra-great without any cats walking all over us at night. I love 'em, but it's a treat to not have them around occasionally. Plus, the hotel had a fantastic shower - nice "rain shower" spray. The package included breakfast at the hotel, which was good. We got home around 11 a.m., where I planned to start my day.
Well, that plan didn't really happen. I laid around on the couch for four hours, napping on and off and watching HGTV and the Food Channel. So nothing was accomplished on this particular Sunday.
Boy, I can tell I'm out of practice writing - I can't even make an entertaining little story about a night on the town. Oh, well. I think I need to practice and get back in the groove again. Believe me, I had some good stories that didn't get blogged, and really were blog-worthy. For instance, How Kenny Spent The Night Before Easter. Let's summarize that to include consoling his friend who's having marital strife at a strip club - where he only got 3 private lapdances, after the third one he said, "Enough!" - and ended the night at Steak and Shake. He tried to keep the emphasis in the storytelling on that part of the night, but I wasn't buying it, unlike his lapdance purchases. Three. I told his grandmother and mother on him during Easter dinner.

Here's a little fun that summarizes the fun you can have in Cleveland:

Saturday, April 18, 2009

A Far Away Land

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are playing Tourists this weekend and will be travelling to the far-away city of Cleveland. Yep, we're spending the night downtown. Back around Christmas I won a raffle basket of various gift cards and one of the prizes included 2 nights at the Downtown Marriott. Now, I don't need to spend two nights in a hotel five miles from my house, but it could be fun for one night, and since we have a show at the Playhouse we are going to make the most of it. Taking our swimsuits just in case we need to hot tub ourselves at midnight. Just in case. That's a joke between us, because we NEVER do anything like that, but I always pack for it just in case. One thing I found interesting, the brochure for the Marriott actually touted one of the perks as being "near the beach." In Cleveland?? Really? I mean, I know we've got the great Lake Erie, but who would flock here for our beaches?? I guess ya have to tout what you've got, and apparently that made the list. Our room woulda cost us $169. I'm hoping to use the 2nd night for an overnight Girl Trip downtown one summer evening. Nothing on the certificate said the nights had to be consecutive. I'll argue that one if I must.

So we're doing a few things around the house before we head downtown, just to take care of a few things. So far we haven't accomplished much. I made a huge brunch for us, including sauteed kale with garlic and onion, BLT's, a side of hominy and some orange slices. We are going to have dinner somewhere downtown, maybe Sushi Rock or Metropolitan Cafe. Trying not to spend a fortune, but also have a little fun. We have tickets to see Chelsey Handler perform tonight, which should be very entertaining.

Friday night I attended Verb Ballets at the Cleveland Public Theater with my friend Katie. Kenny's only question when I said I was going to the ballet was "I don't have to go with you, do I???" It was really pretty darn good. A friend from high school is a ballerino (the masculine form of ballerina) and he choreographed part of it so I went to support the team. And see him for the first time since my high school reunion four years ago.

That's all for Writings From The Recliner for now. I must get scrubbed and presentable for my big night out downtown.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

A Glass of Suck This.

I'm having this for breakfast today:
Yeah, it really looks like that, like thick pea soup or swamp water. In fact, I've dubbed it Swamp Juice. At Toastmasters last Tuesday, a health guru in our group touted the benefits of this particular "green smoothie" and shared the recipe. She "dedicated" her speech to me because she has the impression that I eat like total shit on an every-hour basis. Weird, really, since I see her only one hour a week, and it's a non-eating hour at that. But whatev, I must have made quite an impression with my exceptional level of healthfulness.
So now, just to prove she can Suck It, I'm drinking this concoction as of today. I had to shop for the ingredients yesterday, hence the delayed start to Good Health. For all you who want to take the Swamp Juice Healthy Challenge, it contains the following:
  • 1 cup water
  • 2 bananas (that's a lot of bananas in 1 meal)
  • 1 red delicious apple
  • 1/2 to 1 cup frozen strawberries
  • 6 leaves of Dinosaur kale
Blend all together, ignore the appearance and toast to a day of good health.
I didn't have dinosaur kale, so I used about 2 cups of bagged kale from Giant Eagle, and picked the stems off. I'd go into greater detail, but we all know that not one person reading this is actually going to make it. I also added in my Juice Plus vitamins to the shake, for added health ka-pow.
The things I'll do to prove someone else doesn't know a fucking thing they think they know about me.
After I choke this down, I'm going to the gym. Suck that.

Friday, April 10, 2009

If Not Now, When?

I've been thinking about buying a house. Giving it some seriously hard thought, actually, not just a passing fancy of thought. It's a hard decision; buying a house would definitely infringe on spur-of-the-moment, never-pass-up-a-cute-purse lifestyle. But really, how many cute purses does a girl actually need (well, maybe that's not a good question to pose).
A co-worker, who recently sold her house after having it on the market for over a year, advised against it. She pointed out, "it's easier to get rid of a husband than it is to get rid of a house nowadays." Getting rid of my husband was hard, expensive work, while my house went quickly. Huh. Plus, she pointed out that the $8k tax credit would be spent right up in the first year, especially since I currently don't pay anything for where I live - it will be a huge shock to my system.
But I've always wanted a house with a pool. And granite countertops.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The Greatness That's Me

I'm a victim of my own greatness. Tonight I won 1st place in the Western Division Evaluation Contest. Drat. It would be a-okay if that was that, but NOW I have to go to the next (and final) round of competition on May 2nd. A Saturday. All the way down in Canton. Great. An hour drive, early in the morning, to public speak in a contest format.
Ah, the trials and tribulations of being so great. Humble, too. I'm great and humble. And what did it get me? An early morning drive and a spent Saturday.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Fallen Angel

I'm unsettled to read the latest news about Farrah Fawcett lying in critical condition, her survival in question. I mean, I get that we all die sooner or later. But it's Farrah Fucking Fawcett. She was The Shit back in The Day. Wait, not The Day. My Day. I had a serious girl crush on her and POURED over photos of her in Tiger Beat magazine, and even saved my allowance to buy a magazine devoted to Farrah, complete with tips from her hairstylist detailing how to achieve the Farrah Fawcett Feathered Hairdo.

I was 11 or 12 back in the Charlie's Angels heyday. I was chubby (Damn You, Cookies and Cakes), freckled and four-eyed, not to mention uncoordinated and gawky in my too-tall frame. I'd achieved all my height at 11 years old, and no one wants to be the tallest girl in class with B-cup boobies. Those come in handy later, but not at 11. At least not back in the 70's.
With All That going on for me, is it any wonder I daydreamed about Farrah? I practiced my Angels Pose and high-kicks all over the house. Who wouldn't want to absorb just a little bit of her - even if it was only in a few feathered strands of hair?

And now, cancer-stricken and possibly down for the count. Oh, Angel. I think I may bring back the feathered hair in honor of Jill Monroe. At the very least I'm going to do a high kick on my way to bed tonight.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Here We Go

Well, Reader, I'm back! I seem to have lost a little blogging steam, usually I don't have a problem writing something about absolutely nothing, but as of late I haven't even been able to muster up that nonsense. Rest assured, I think there is still some nonsense left in me.
Not that I need to get into a whole vacation update from three weeks ago, but here are a few fun pictures from the trip. Below is a photo of our hotel, The Beverly Hills Hotel, which is the cover of the Eagles Hotel California album. I love this hotel and would like to go there again for more days.
Here is one of my favorite pictures taken in Beverly Hills, a church on Rodeo Drive as the sun was winding down for the day.

This picture was taken right after Kenny dropped and semi-broke my brand-new waterproof camera. It still works, but I have my doubts about it's sea-worthiness anymore. And that's just one more reason I don't like to borrow things - had that happened when I borrowed the Murdoch's camera I would have been most distressed. As it was, I was irked with Kenny's clumsiness and wasn't in a forgiving mood that "accident's happen." It was literally one day old and he dropped her right on the street. But we still managed to get the photo.

My favorite day on the cruise ship, the day we ported in Mazatlan. We stayed on the ship and it was warm enough that I got sun poisoning on my legs while I enjoyed having the deck to myself. I was reading a rather uninteresting book at this point, though, which is probably a good thing because it made me come in sooner rather than later - I would have been sunburnt beyond belief had I been engrossed in The Other Boleyn Girl at this point in the trip. That Mexican Sun = Hot.

Speaking of reading, I'm rather engrossed in a book at the moment and for that I am going to leave this post as-is and get back to reading. For those interested, it's The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, kind of a downer but haunting. I may also go to the gym, they've changed their hours and I now have a chance to actually make it on a Saturday.

I'll try and think up something dazzling to write about later.