I love you a lot, with all of my soul.....without you I'm nothing, a butterless roll.

I watched Mr. Deeds today and that line just made me laugh and laugh so despite it's complete inadequacy as a description of my NY trip I made it my title so I can keep laughing and laughing.

I spent this past week in New York visiting with my MaleBFF Jackass Ronnie. After some trouble with the airlines (randomly cancelled flight and then majorly delayed alternate flight) I made it to his place around 2am Monday evening. My darling Jackass Ronnie picked me up at the airport and shuttled me back to his place with a rather limited amount of bitching and a lot of scary driving.

[Actually those are both blatent lies. I have the texts to prove the bitching and my heart is still in my throat from the driving. But he showed up, which is a Huge Bonus.]

I have absolutely no pictures of my trip, mainly because A) I forgot to grab my camera each and every time we left the house and B) I simply had too much fun every single minute and didn't want to see my city/peeps from behind a viewfinder. I'd have to say this was the best trip I've had to NY thus far, even beating the time I went with college friends over spring break and we were accosted by homeless people and crazy cabbies.

Tuesday was spent literally playing video games alllll day long in Ron's basement. I realize that to probably 99% of you reading this that sounds like an absolutely retarded use of vacation-time-in-NY but honestly this trip wasn't really about seeing the city (which I've done many many times before) but more about seeing my boy who I missed terribly over the last few months. After watching him slay an infinite amount of creepy looking creatures, we switched over to something more my style (Mario Party) and he beat me mercilessly twice.

Oh, and our breakfast consisted of steak (one for each of us), pigs in blankets, yogurt (him), banana (me), and a bagel with cream cheese (me) and lox (him). I love when a boy makes me a Proper Breakfast.

[Side Note: I only made one mistake using the wrong knife for my cream cheese. Which is actually a pretty bad one from what I understand. So perhaps that's not something to be proud of...whatevs.]

Tuesday night we went into the city to meet up with some of his friends for dinner/drinks. I have to admit, I was incredibly curious to meet these people who put up with him. They were not what I was expecting at all (read: nice and friendly and not mean). We had Thai for dinner (yum!) and then made our way down to the Hotel Gansevoort in the meat packing district for some drinks. My Godmother's son Ariel works in the rooftop bar there and I always make it a point to visit him.

Doesn't look like much meat packing is done here.

I was quite amused watching Ron and Mike drink their grapefruit cosmos which were Super Yummy but also pink and served in martini glasses. Apparently in the city it's not very uncommon for hetero men to walk around sporting frou-frou drinks, but from this southern girl's perspective they were standing way too close to each other while drinking them.

Wednesday I worked off my hangover with a fantastic breakfast in Ron's town (I can still taste that bagel and not in a bad way) and then spent the day pretty much the same way as before. You may say we were wasting time. I call it our Bonding Time.

Wednesday night we headed back into the city, with the intention of sleeping over in a friend's apartment. This freed us up for some massive drinking without the perils of driving. Dinner was at a very pricey but super yummy steakhouse, where I ate a fillet the size of my head. Well, I ate like 80% of it and Ron picked up the scraps. We transitioned at another friend of Ron's, then mosied over to a nondescript bar for many libations and much debauchery. I'm a little fuzzy on the how we got home but I believe it involved some walking and perhaps a cab ride.

By the way, did I mention the fact that it was absolutely freezing cold the entire week and I'm from Florida where its never freezing cold and where you also can't buy boots or sweaters or coats past February and all I had to wear were these strappy black heels that are completely awesome except when its freezing cold? They mocked me.

On the plus side at least I have a fabulous tan. I can't tell you how much people remarked on my pre-cancerous skin. With awe and envy. Sigh. I truly believe the only benefit to the cold in my opinion is the absolute need for a completely different wardrobe. I mean, when it's warm all year round it's hard to have an excuse to buy 'seasonal' clothes. I love pea coats and trenches, but really when the temp doesn't drop past 60 all year round what is the point?

On the other hand, I did get to wear my Super Awesome knitted scarf and gloves. I actually finished the other glove on the plane ride up to NY. Again, lots of mocking from the locals who have glaringly white extremely thick skin.

Oh, and thanks to all of the very sweet NY Boys who continued to argue with me about my age, even after jackass Ronnie happily confirmed it. I love you all and will have your babies/marry you/whatevs.

Anyhow, Thursday we took our time getting moving in the morning (we were a bit "fragile") and I headed out to have lunch with Elisabeth (Ariel's mom). The boys met us down there for coffee and then we three headed over to the Natural History museum for some geeking out. I'm pretty sure Mike was quite annoyed amused by our absolute retardedness childlike fun around science and animals. I mean, who doesn't like hanging out with two people who name and describe the history of every single purebred dog they walk by? Way Super Fun.

Thursday night we returned to Ron's hood for some local sushi (holyshititwasamazing) and drinks. I was coerced (serious coercion, I swear) into playing Beer Pong for the first time in my life (I swear, first time!). I was dumbfounded by the professional beer pong tables (my previous knowledge only seeing plywood sheets on sawhorses...ah, Island Life) and after a rough start and some encouragement from my partner Mike we kicked ass three times. I came to love this game, since as we all know I Love Beer, but it was difficult to understand the concept of winning the game does not equal I get to drink all of the beer. Boo.

Um, yeah....anyone else get the HeeBeeGeeBees when you watch peeps routinely cleanse the ping pong ball in the same glass of icky water? I'm really glad I had those pre-game drinks so my brain wasn't fully recognizing the germiness at that moment.

Friday morning was a quick steak breakfast (I heart you Ron) and off to fight traffic for the flight home. I have to admit, I had sooooo much fun on this trip that I seriously considered "missing" my flight home just so I could stay in the city that much longer. But as a "grown-up" person I had to understand that at this moment that is just not happening.

But you can bet your ass I will be back.

And I will ROCK some beer pong/steakhouses/general debauchery.

It is SO on.

Le Sigh.

You can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family. Or something like that.

Nowadays the word Family has become synonymous with negatives like Divorce and Inbreeding Dysfunctional and Custody Agreements.

I can count the number of my friends with families who are still the same cohesive unit as they were in my childhood on my left foot. And while I still retain all of my toes thankyouverymuch, unfortunately that reference would still work if I stepped on a land mine and lost a few.

Please understand I have a very broad definition of family. I was raised an only child, however if you asked me growing up I would say I’ve got lots of brothers out there. People tended to raise their eyebrows at that answer and give my father a knowing look (he was in the Peace Corps in Columbia you know), but I wasn’t referring to blood relatives. Because to me, blood does not always a family make. I think Yoda said that.

(Apparently all of my parent’s friends shot out Y chromosomes because I was the only girl amongst many many boys.)

For me, I was raised alongside another family who my parents met when their first son was very young and I was not yet a zygote. This other couple, Lynn and Dave, became my Other Parents and their sons Brad and Sean became my brothers. Brad is two years older (and the father of The Cutest Baby in the Whole World) and Sean is ten days older than me (and the father of no children that we are aware of). These boys tortured me and stuck up for me and shaped me as if I were their real sister. I couldn’t have asked for a better Other Family.

Without offending my own parents, who mean a great deal to me, I have to say Lynn and Dave both influenced me greatly during the years when a person is just figuring out how to make their life their own. Lynn taught me to be my own person, to have pride in myself, to do things my own way and at my own pace. Dave showed me a more conservative side of the world, taught me that there is a proper way to do things, and instilled in me a healthy concept of the word respect. I saw from a very early age that they were completely different people from my own parents and I was so lucky to have them.

All of our family events/holidays/etc. involved Lynn and Dave and the kids. We lived far enough away from each other that I wasn’t in school with the boys or involved in their daily lives; yet through the years our relationships have grown stronger than most we had with the kids we went to school with for years. I have fond memories of them reading my diaries aloud at Family Events or undressing my Barbies and posing them provocatively; typical boy behavior that would induce a tantrum in me then but would receive retribution from me now.

(Not that I still write in diaries or play with Barbies. That would just be weird.)

(Off topic: Have you seen some of the outfits Barbie comes in now? Might as well be called Slut Barbie or Whore Barbie.)

These Family Events were occasions of great frivolity and lots of alcohol consumption. The conversations ranged from politics to pop art to The Simpsons. There were always stories about cultural experiences, travel excursions, and personal history. It’s sad, but I’m willing to bet I learned more about history and culture through those Family Events than I ever learned in school. And as with any family, there were opinions.

Boy, were there opinions.

Oh, and stubbornness. That, too.

(Not always a good mix. Especially with alcohol.)

But despite the arguments and the loud voices all trying to talk over each other and the occasional hurt pride that caused periodic silences we were a family.

In fact, it is those arguments/loud voices/silences that taught me a great deal about how to communicate with people – both the positive and negative ways. I learned how to read people’s emotions and personalities, how to discuss heated topics without imposing my opinion on someone (or how to impose, depending on the situation), and most importantly how to diplomatically accede to another even when I’m not anywhere near their ballpark.

As we’ve gotten older and us kids have grown up and started families/lives of our own these Family Events have become fewer and father in between as well as smaller in number. Stories are told repeatedly to ensure everyone is up-to-date on everyone else. Family Events are as much about catching up with each other’s present and future as they were about learning about the past. The absentees are sorely missed as everyone’s personality brought something different to the table.

Tonight as I sat at the table with my folks and Lynn, I couldn’t help but miss the days with no elbow room and subtly exchanging place cards so that I was situated near people I preferred. (Don’t be judgy, you totally did that too.) The table has gotten quieter and the conversation is much easier to follow but the large family feel has gone.

But the eccentric topics have remained fantastically amazing, as always.

We discussed the inevitable book that Sean, Brad and I will write one day about our highly dysfunctional and yet thoroughly amazing family dynamic. We will each bring a perspective to the stories, mine probably focusing on the psychology of our family and what it has cost us in therapy bills how it has shaped us as people. There will be laughter and tears and probably defamation lawsuits and hopefully a Pulitzer Prize.

We also discussed the movie rights and who would play each of us. Needless to say it’s quite the unique group of actors all of whom have probably never acted together in a screenplay ever. Which when you think about it might make it one of the most uniquely interesting flicks…well…ever.

(And I fully expect that you, my faithful 7 readers, to be the first in line at my book signing.)

(Because if you aren’t, I’m liable to cry at the table surrounded by piles of my books and no one who cares. Or cares enough to buy it in hardcover anyhow.)

PS. This book writing thing has been a long-standing joke in our family, but I can’t help but wonder if it won’t be Alex, the first grandchild of the group, who actually writes the damn thing. He is a Boy Genius, after all. And he’s inheriting a second-generation dysfunctional family who will no doubt fill the book with many titillating stories.

(I just used titillating for the first time ever. Ever since I learned that word I’ve always thought it was too dirty to use in public. I’d rather say Fuck than titillating. True story.)

Where the hell did the last year go?

Today we celebrated the first birthday of The Cutest Baby in the Whole World (and I'm not biased in any way because he's not mine).

Remember this face?

I conveniently forgot my camera and thus have to recycle old photos. Alex is pictured here at around 9 months. Be assured, his head is still quite large and not much else has changed.

Anyhow, this little ball of cuteness celebrated 12 months of sleeping, eating, and pooping today. I was a little trepidacious about going to the party, since I knew there would be children in attendance and I'm pretty particular about the children I'm willing to hang out with. Specifically I'm not a big fan of the ones with the soft spot on their heads. Just creeps me out to think I could accidentally slip and poke my thumb into their white matter.

I solved this problem by going straight for the beer. Doesn't really help with my motor skills, but typically after a few the kids learn to keep their distance from me.

Anywho, there were a number of the usuals and some newbs in attendance, and the kids were all acceptable ages (read: tying their own shoes and wiping their own butts). Most of our time was spent eating, as with most family events, and the cake was completely acceptable and totally fattening (thank you Publix). They even got a separate cake for the B-day boy, and apparently its a 'tradition' to publicly ridicule watch the child smash the cake with his hands and smear it all over his face. I was reminded of Anthropology courses where tribal children fulfil rites of passages by killing their first lion and smearing themselves with blood....except this was yellow cake and green butter cream frosting. But the concept's pretty similar.

Alex, being daddy's boy, did not play the part. This kid's showing his OCD very early in life, getting grumpy and cranky when he realized that his hands were dirty. The dog ended up damaging that cake better than the kid. In tribal terms I think that means he won't have lots of girlfriends. At least we know he won't end up like Pigpen.

By far the most impressive part of the party was the Unveiling of The Gifts. First birthdays are the new Sweet Sixteen! This kid raked in toys of all sorts, cute little outfits, even golf clubs (and yes, they were metal and will inevitably break a window). I was especially interested in the toys that involved blinking lights with music and singing and strange voices. I'm pretty sure those are the root of the ADD problem in America.

When I was a kid, we played with legos and paper and wooden popsicle sticks. Stuff that required imagination, creative thinking, and glue. My parents took this theory a step futher and trumped my 5-mile-walk-uphill-in-the-snow story with their 20-mile-walk-through-ice-capped-mountains story by exclaiming they never even had TV growing up.

(How the hell did they keep up with important current events like what's going on with Brit Brit or who got kicked off this week on American Idol?)

I'm thinking about getting our little friend Alex a script for Ritalin on his second birthday. You have to be proactive with these things.

After playing with all of his toys (me) and eating his cake (me and the dog), my little friend Alex was completely tuckered out and made his way to bed. As we left my hands lingered over the Leap Frog caterpillar thing that sounded out letters to enhance reading skills. I liked how it said F-U-C-ooo, that tickles!-K.

(You think I'm joking? Go to Target right now and try it yourself. Seriously. GO.)

(And I soooo want to know what the other parents faces in that aisle look like when you do it.)

(By the way: do not pull the string. No matter how sultry tempting they make it sound by saying "Pull My String", just don't do it. Trust me.)

Altogether a nice afternoon, although by no means did it inspire me to run out and get a kid rightnowthisminute.

But then again, tick tock. Tick Freakin Tock.

Down here we call it "Neck-car".

Dad and I went to the Honda Grand Prix today. Ordinarily I don't enjoy watching cars drive in circles abnormally fast, but since my dad was saddled with just a girl I figure it's my duty to 'play the son' every once in a while.

Anyhow, it was a gorgeous day for walking amongst the little people and eating corn dogs and drinking beer. I find myself enjoying these types of events for people watching, of which there was plenty. Basically there were a significant number of men vs. women, less teeth than normal, more beer sold than water/lemonade/tea combined, and lots of dip lips.

Actually a pretty good shot, despite our neon yellow ear plugs. I have no excuses for dad's ridiculous shirt.

Or hat.

I took this shot for my FR. We are currently in the market for a yacht. Or more so the accessory Gazillionaire (with an accent preferably) that comes with one.

I'm pretty sure you have to be either anorexic or a prepubescent 9 year-old to fit into these cars. The tires are wider than the seats!

Notice one of the sponsors is the NYSE. It's a wonder why this car was retired and put in the 'take your picture with the car but be careful not to actually touch it' area. They actually had a little old man there wiping up prints after catching people breaking the rules.

He was probably a stock broker in his former life.

The next couple of weeks are going to be filled with visits to fabulous places like The GC and NY which will hopefully give me better fodder for this blog than, oh, say....Car Races?

Let's all cross our fingers.

This just in...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!


I hope you get everything you want. Including a computer. Let's make up our minds already, why don't we?

(and by "we", I mean you.)

Damn Yankees.

My aunt and uncle joined us at the last Yankees spring training game of the season today. We had fantastic seats, about 10 rows from the field:

At one point a ball landed about 2 rows directly in front of us. My sad little family all just cringed and cowered and covered our heads as best we could. Funny part was, the ball hit the ground and bounced straight up to land just behind us. Some guy caught it, and was ridiculously violent in his efforts. It's a spring training game dude. Seriously.

It was only about 83 degrees out today, but you would think we were sitting in the center of the Saudi desert by the amount of sweat draining out of my body. At one point I had to hitch my skirt up completely to avoid the inevitable swamp-ass. Which I sort of got anyhow, but despite my uncontrollable need to photo document my entire life for you all I did not take a picture of my backside post-game. That would be uncouth.

Haha, this picture has two fairly inappropriate arrows drawn on it. Click the pic to see the text a little better.

Derek Jeter was at the game, in all his....glory? I'm not really a big fan, basically because I've met the man in person a number of times and he wasn't really the Super Awesome guy people claim. Even my BFF Jen who was basically going to marry him wasn't too keen after she met him. I think she may have even broken his heart. True story.

Here's another reason for me to wonder at this guy's mental state:

Click on the pic to see a not-at-all-life-size version of the picture.

That, my dear friends, is his THIRTY THOUSAND SQUARE FOOT house being built on Davis Island (a semi-uppity man-made island in South Tampa that will likely slide into the ocean once the Big One hits). I can't even describe to you how incredibly insane the entire concept of this house is - NUTS. He paid something like 7 million dollars for the land alone, almost 2 million just to the designers, and who the hell knows how much to get it built/furnish it/etc. The place has like 9 million bedrooms and bathrooms, TWO three car garages, and a gigantic front courtyard that will no doubt be a place for his groupies to get arrested when trespassing entourage to park.

I mean, this guy could probably house the entire population of St. Kitts comfortably.

To give you some reference as to how completely out of place this house is, check out his neighbor across the street:

Their house only took one camera shot to document. His took three. From a distance.

Now I realize that someone should probably give this guy a psychiatric evaluation medal of honor for putting so much money into the economy during times like these, but who does this? Not necessarily overall, but who does this here? I mean, Tampa's pretty cool, but c'mon!!

Oh! And remember how mom exchanges wine for liquor over lent?

Scene: Mom returns to table with mysterious brownish liquid in a glass. We both look at her incredulously, since this looks suspiciously like a glass of whiskey wine on the rocks.

Dad: Ellen!

Mom: [taking in our looks of disbelief] No, no. That's just vermouth.

Dad: Ellen, that's basically wine.

Mom: Yeah, I know. I'm maybe sort of cheating a little.

Me: [cringing, looking around for the lightning strikes.] Nice one, mom.

This family is nuts.

PS - Thanks to my seven friends and/or random drunken strangers for voting about my new site. Well, thanks to the five of you who Love It. Everyone else can just go piss off re-vote.

I stomped grapes today and my friend Jay told me I'm going to get ringworm.

Technically this is my second post in....well...ten minutes. But really, the other one was written last night and this one was too good to wait, so whatev. Suck it up, my 7 faithful readers!

Today my folks and I mosied over to The Italian Festival in Centro Ybor. Initially the plan was to walk around and gorge ourselves on every yummy thing imaginable and then wander over to the activities tent to cheer on the Animal Coalition of Tampa team at the Grape Stompin Competition.

Then I got the call. JoAnne, flustered (as always), because it seems no one from ACT was going to show up. Ever the team player, she called in her Awesome Backup Group made up of me and her husband. I was informed that I had to leave immediately for the event, no moseying or meandering or wandering allowed.

After lighting a firecracker under my parent's respective asses (i believe today was the first time my father actually called me "annoying".) we set off to the festival. Between parking in the garage and walking to the entrance I received no less than 17 phone calls from JoAnne (well, one from her husband Nestor) frantically wanting to know where exactly I was at that very moment. You know, the moment right after the last time I called.

We arrived at the Stompin site with seconds to spare. JoAnne and I heaped all of our accessories onto my mom, gave my dad the camera, and went to work.

There are really no words I can use to describe the actual contest; well, nothing that is even remotely as amusing as the video. So watch it. Cause it's pretty much awesome.

[NOTE: there is music to this video, so if you are sitting in class ignoring your prof you might want to make sure the mute is on. and if you can, turn it way up. cause it's best when you get the 'whole picture'.]

In conclusion, have a wonderful night. And please don't hate me if you're catholic.

(i only find it mildly amusing to imagine the congragation's faces as they sip "the blood of Christ" and it's a goopy mess of yuck.)

OH! And check out what my mom made for dinner:

Squash Soup Stuff?

Or is it Grape Surprise?

Its PRICELESS, whatever it is.

My mom's new name is Captain Obvious.

Went to dinner and a movie tonight with my folks. Yup. Hot date.

At dinner mom was quite the Witty Woman.

After reviewing the menu:
Mom: What's in the 4-Cheese Ravioli?
Me: Well, there's four cheeses. And they are tucked inside ravioli pasta.
Mom: Huh.

In discussing the makings of a True Cosmo:
Dad: A real cosmo has Contreau. It's like $40 a bottle!
Mom: Well, that's something we get in the duty free.
Me: We'll have to remember to grab a bottle when we're on GC.
Mom: And don't forget you have to pack that in your checked bags, you can't bring it on the plane. They don't like that.
Me: Wow. Thank you Captain Obvious.

Did I ever mention my mom's Lent routine? Each year she gives up wine for Lent. Which would be really honorable if A) we attended church and B) she didn't trade up to Manhattans and Cosmos.

The last time I was in a church that didn't involve European sight-seeing or a wedding was when I was seven. Our family are more like invisible silent worshipers. And who drinks Manhattans anymore? Seriously.

We walked into the movie theater behind a blind guy. I just couldn't help but wonder if he shouldn't be offered a 1/2 price ticket.

Yeah, I'm waiting for the lightning strike from above. Daily.

(But since I'm a invisible silent worshipper, does that mean the lightning will be invisible silent? Cause that's kind of a spooky thought.)

In case you were wondering, we saw the movie Duplicity. It was slow moving, similar in style to the Oceans movies, and starred a very handsome guy with a fantastic accent.

Mmmm. I love me some accents.

Anyhow, I got to thinking as I watched this movie that I would make an absolutely awesome terrible spy. For one thing, I simply cannot keep my mouth shut (fired banned from volunteering ring a bell?). And despite my witty banter I'm really not that great at conning people. I don't bluff. And I forget things easily. Between leaving my hotel room and meeting my mark at the bar, I would completely forget my cover and during my escape when I shed my clothing in an effort to change my appearance I would forget my wallet in the jacket and my cell phone in the purse. Cause that's just the sort of dumbass things I do.

So I guess its a good thing I'm not set on being a spy.

Or am I?

Trivialities of Life.

Got my chest X-ray results back today. Here's how the convo with my nurse practitioner went:

Me: So, no TB then.

NP: No, all clear.

Me: Um, great. Listen, can you tell me something? How do my heart & lungs look? Abnormally small perhaps?

NP: Uh...nope. Everything looks good.

Me: Are you absolutely sure? Because I seriously cannot run longer than a fifth of a mile before I am completely and utterly out of breath. I just assumed that since I have abnormally tiny ears that my lungs and heart were just as small.

NP: Hmm.

Then she said something about getting back to work and hung up.

I'm pretty sure the lesson learned here is when you have something as important as an x-ray done, you should have a real doctor review it.

[That was a joke. I do not in any way mean to belittle NPs. I have been seeing this woman for 5 years now and as far as I can tell she is super smart.]

I spoke briefly a bit ago about my upcoming trip with dad to the GC. Dad sorely needs a vacation, and I get to go by default. We'll be looking for a place to live (Miss Kitty puts a serious dent in the available accommodations) that won't suck all remaining pennies from my pocket (seriously. this place is Prada expensive). We'll also be checking out the surroundings, the school, and taking loads of pictures. My mom will be out of town on business, as she is for about 350 days out of the year. Her loss.

Anywho, I'm really looking forward to this trip. It's the first real physical step towards my next adventure. Plus I get to meet the three (yes, three) friends I've met from Facebook. Since I've decided not to pretend to be what I think those people would want me to be and instead to be myself right from the start, I'm pretty sure I've already landed a label along the lines of: "the kooky old lady with a cat." Katie was even kind enough to offer storage space and in return I was kind enough to promise not to fill my bags with illicit substances that may or may not get her visa revoked upon discovery by local police. These people are so lucky to get me, they simply have no idea.

By the way, it's trying desperately to rain today. Which is sort of awesome. Bye Bye Pollen. Sucka.

Balls of Cuteness and Pieces of Hell.

What the fuck.

Seriously.

Here I am, working my ass off with trainers and treadmills and sit-ups and Special Torture (aka turning away GS cookies) and what does my lovely mother bring home from work today?

These are the good kind, all gooey and chewy and lite on the nuts but heavy on the FAT.

If there is a God, please grant me the strength to resist temptation.

And if there isn't. Well, I'm just screwed.

On a cuter note: how freakin adorable is this Ball of Adorableness?

This is how I trick you into thinking that I care.

I melt your eyes with my adorableness.

This is my Furry BFF Sheila (aka Sheebs, Monster, Booger, Sugar.)

Just after this moment of cuddles, she lept off my lap and left me with a pee spot on my leg. Which I really can't blame her for since her urine sample grew bacteria insanely within 5 hours of creation (aka UTI-mania). She really couldn't help it. Don't be all judgy.

How to make free long distance calls and other ideas that (might) land you in jail eventually.

Today dad and I wandered into the Apple store to check out the MacBooks (don't get excited, we were looking for him). While dad was playing with the laptop, trying to get the hang of the awesome fingering abilities (which I sooooo had to hold back a snort when the cute little Apple Dork mentioned the 'fingering abilities'), I picked up the iPhone because I love it's fingering abilities (*snicker*).

All of a sudden I had an intense impulse to test out the phone. Calling St. Kitts. Twenty-five minutes later I got off the phone with SugarBear and an idea was formed. Who needs calling cards and long-distance phone plans when you can just wander into any Apple Store on a Saturday afternoon and make calls at any of their 20 working phones? Considering how busy they are on weekends, you could potentially make a call at the phone near the front of the store and then meander down to the back corner for another call. I'm pretty sure they won't catch on. Just make sure to mix up the days/times you go, since if there are regular calls at 2pm every Saturday to Japan you can bet their will be cops standing at the door eventually.

And I don't think you can call St Kitts as your one phone call in jail. So going there really isn't worth it.

I love the iPhone.

(since my graphics programs are limited [anyone have photoshop for me?] the funny line under "your credit" should read "What the Hell is Credit? It's FREE.)

(seriously? anyone? free photoshop?)

In other news, my family is insane. While I don't actually have confirmation from a shrink, I'm pretty sure its true.

At dinner tonight my dad described someone as my soulmate and I vehemently denied it because to me Soulmate implies love and marriage and making out. And that was not the case with this person. So my mom begins to agree with me about the Soulmate = Romantic Affiliation part and dad starts seriously defending his definition that Soulmate = Person With Whom You Have Strong Affinity (not to be confused with affinity of chemical substances). Mom tells dad to look it up in Websters, the dogs are panicking because they hear yelling but can't stay away because there's food involved, and I'm just sitting there in disbelief at how a simple comment can become a full-fledged battle royale.

Until we find that Soulmate is not in the dictionary. As if it doesn't exist.

Of course, Wikipedia has a very full and diverse definition here. But then they also have an incredibly colorful definiton of the formerly Canadian turned British pop group b4-4 that states (and I'm For Serious here) "the group performed impromptu rimjobs for the CEO of Sony USA" among other interesting tidbits. So can we really rely on Wiki for important information like the definition of Soulmates?

I'm of the mind that they don't exist at all. But then, I'm still in one of those Glass Half Empty of Vodka phases. So perhaps my opinion shouldn't count either.

This is like the best thing in the entire world. True Story.

Note To Self: lay off on the wine until after writing blog entry for the evening. Or at least save as draft until the morning when head is clearer before publishing.

It's officially after midnight and no sighting of Le Fat Man.

I hope all of you had a fabulous Christmas Eve and wake up to a wonderful pot of goodies tomorrow morning. All of you, that is, who celebrate Christmas. Those of you who don't, I hope you get whatever it is you're supposed to get. And a lot of it. You get my drift.

Here at The Houghton household it was quite the C-Eve event. Somehow my father's brother was coerced into driving here, accompanied by their sister and brother-in-law. Along with them, we had some family friends, The Gilbarts and The Parrishes, along with the Parrish family New Addition: Alexander.

Uncle Tommy, me, dad, and Aunt Barb

The Houghton Fam

Alexander: The Cutest Thing since sliced bread. I don't even mind the candy cane pants.

This little kid has seriously grown on me. He's just too freaking cute. I don't want to turn into a gushing Auntie or anything, since I usually stab those people with a pencil mentally while they prattle on and on about a character we never meet, but seriously. Freaking Cute.

Short Version: 8 month old kid the size of a kid twice his age, walking almost on his own, loves music and blinking lights and fire (really loved sticking his fingers in the melted tea light candles), sings to us (a bit pitchy, but I think he might have a career there), and with a smile that would melt the heart of any stone cold bitch like me.

Plus he was a somewhat willing participant in the Le Saskia Knit Fashion Show.

I made this one for his mommy.



This was supposed to be his. Seems to be missing about 4 inches in length and an inch or two in circumference.

I won't lie - there was a distinct line across his forehead when we took it off.

Too bad I can't gauge the size of the kid's head better - I swear he's like a human version of Stewie.

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!

Happy Anniversary! .....and Congrats Mom!

Since I let her down by not giving a Shout Out a few days ago....I'll make it up with this:

Happy 38th Anniversary Mom and Dad!!

...oh, and also....

Happy American Citizenship Mom!!

Congrats!!

For those of you who don't know, my mother has lived in the US for the last......we'll just say 'X' number of years.....as a Legal Alien (although dad and I occasionally threatened to throw her back). As of Monday, mom was sworn in and is an Alien NO LONGER! Unfortunately I was not present as witness to said swearing in, however I am assured it was a legit and official process and I am no longer a child of a foreigner. Well, sort of...

Good job, mom! You finally worked through that procrastination thing and got 'er done!

Marriott Madness!

My folks came down this past week and to welcome them all of my friends graciously accompanied them to the Marriott Resort where they were staying.

We ate well, drank well (hmmm, most of us anyhow), and baked to a nice golden tan.

And at the risk of sounding way too small-minded, might I say it was very different to be in a place where we were no longer the minority. It was also, however, sad to realize there are many people who travel to resorts such as these and never see the natural beauty, history and culture inherent in these islands.

Okay, enough talking...on to the pics!