8 posts tagged “humor”

Originally published at sixhours photography by caroline moore :: blog. You can comment here or there.

Hello! I'm tired, and I appear to have contracted a vicious form of heartburn from hell. How one manages to get heartburn from a bland dinner of toast and milk, I'll never know, but I'm 99% sure that those of you reading this blog don't want to hear about all my bodily functions gone awry. So let me talk about something else that's gone awry: Housework, or a lack thereof.

Up until an hour or so ago, there was a pile of laundry at the foot of our stairs that was large enough to rival the Washington Monument. It had been sitting there blocking the door to the coat closet for, oh, about a week. Any time I wanted to get up or down the stairs, I'd have to do this strange semi-acrobatic swinging leap over the gargantuan pile of shirts, towels, and bedsheets. This morning made for a particularly fun stunt, as I tried to both clear Laundry Mountain AND navigate around the fresh pile of cat vomit on the second stair riser--thanks, Nala! At least she didn't vomit in the clothes, right?

But back to the laundry. Need a clean shirt? Here's a shovel, start digging. There's a reason we don't buy clothes that wrinkle easily. Frankly, I'm just proud of myself for doing that much laundry--getting it up three flights of stairs from the basement to the bedroom is the icing on the cake. Let's just say I was leaving it there because I wanted to admire my handiwork, acrobatic leaps and all.

Or how about this: until recently, our kitchen had come to resemble the scene of a natural disaster. Dishes, dishes, dishes--overflowing from the sink, onto the counters, the oven, and basically every available surface except, you know, in the cupboards where they belong. For a while I was forced to prepare my morning toast while holding the toaster in one hand and the butter knife in the other. I wish I could say the dishes in question were as clean as the laundry, but then I'd be lying. No, these dishes were far from clean. The kitchen had begun to smell like an old wet towel, and it wouldn't surprise me if we were growing some alien species of mold in the sink.

Next on the list, we have the eight giant bags of bottles laying on the back porch, waiting patiently for someone to take them to the recycling center. I'm pretty sure the homeowner's association wouldn't approve. And I won't tell you where the garbage bag of old cat litter currently resides (certainly not in the garbage can, there's no room left, hah-hah), because then you'd never come to my house and sit down on our one lonely plastic porch chair. *ahem*

This basically sums up the condition of our lives right now. Chaotic. Somewhat uncomfortable. A bit smelly. But what I'm coming to realize is, this is a situation we're going to find ourselves in more and more often in the coming months, years, and probably even decades. I need to become OK with that, or else I'll drive myself crazy trying to fight it. Life is messy.

So here's to airing our dirty laundry, even when it's clean. Surely I'm not the only person whose home is not the pristine vision of perfection that I (scramble to) make it out to be when company (or Mom--hi Mom!) comes to visit. And I can only hope that when our baby is born, DHS doesn't catch wind of this entry and come knocking on our door when we're in the midst of Laundry Mountain and Alien Sink Mold: The Sequel.

Thankfully I speak in the past tense, because my wonderful husband tackled both the kitchen and the laundry pile while I was enjoying my evening walk. But I document it here to prove a point! Although now the raging heartburn and exhaustion has made me forget what my point might have been... maybe I didn't have one, except to say, "Hi. See why I'm not blogging much? Forgive me."

Originally published at sixhours photography by caroline moore :: blog. You can comment here or there.

Busy weekend! A three-day weekend, even! Hurrah for Patriot's Day! Note the ample use of exclamation points! (And you thought I was exaggerating?)

Three-day breaks are wonderful, although I've reached the point where I've done almost everything on my to-do list (save for cleaning, but eh, it's cleaning) and I have a whole day left to kill. We have no Netflix, I'm between custom orders, and I didn't arrange for any photo shoots this weekend (d'oh) so I'm kinda floating and trying to figure out what I want to do next. The strange free-ness of time! I'm not used to it! Someone, quick! Give her a stopwatch and a schedule before she hyperventilates!

I hung out with Susan on Friday night for more thrifty good-ness and Mexican food. Have I mentioned how nice it is to have friends? Friends who you can even go out with and talk and stuff? I know it seems I've been living under a rock when I say that, but occasionally us rock-people have epiphanies of the obvious sort, and I'm particularly enjoying this one.

On Saturday the weather was so nice that T & I decided to take a day trip to the Ellsworth area for some sun and tasty food at Jordan's snack bar. They had fresh crab (!) so I got a crab roll that was delicious. It was so tasty that I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night (seriously--I went to bed drooling), so the next day we went grocery shopping and I splurged* on some fresh Maine crab meat. Then I got really brave and tried my hand at homemade crabcakes. The verdict: Tasty! Even better: Mr. Tim does not eat seafood, so they were allll mine! Muwahahahaha!

* Does the word "splurge" conjure up gross mental images for anyone else? Because whenever I hear it, or see it written, I think about puke.  And in current context, that's just unbelievably wrong.

Originally published at sixhours photography by caroline moore :: blog. You can comment here or there

Huh blog wha? I'm sorry, but I'm busy watching my cat contort himself into some of the most unusual napping positions. I don't know how he manages to sleep with both hind legs straight up in the air. 

Originally published at sixhours photography by caroline moore :: blog. You can comment here or there.

Mmmmmm. Yesterday's Crock-Pot chili success inspired Tim to make a beef stew, thanks to which I am so dreadfully full right now.  Between yesterday's chili and today's stew we have dinner for the week. I love it when the hubs gets domestic!

It's been a lazy day, otherwise. I am totally lacking in energy and motivation for projects these days. It's depressing to watch the sun disappear at 4:30 in the afternoon! Hopefully I'll snap out of it soon, or else I'm in for a long, dreary winter (and a lot of really boring blogging!  "Today I woke up... and promptly fell asleep again.  The end.")

I do have some ideas, though. I think I'm going to make a 2008 seasonal computer desktop calendar - one doodle for each month - and offer the desktop backgrounds for download here.  Just 'cause.

I also have a photo shoot in mind, but I'm somewhat lacking in props. Anyone happen to have on hand a bunch of clock parts or a few broken vintage clocks? I'll gladly pay shipping!

The most discouraging thing about winter besides the lack of light is the lack of warmth.  More specifically, the inability to go outside wearing anything less than a full body snow suit and stay above frostbite temperatures for any length of time.  I'm mostly concerned for the girls who model for me on a regular basis.  I've yet to find fashionable outerwear that both looks good AND keeps one cozy while standing in the freezing snow for an hour.

Pipe Dreams: I has them.

I also has a serious inability to stop using lolcats speak in everyday conversation.  I caught myself muttering "Do not want!" when I spilled a drink at work the other day.  And I've started appending requests with "I can has...?" - I can has chocolate?  I can has computer?  I can has lobotomy?

Caro-cat is... annoying the crap out of herself.

I'm doing something entirely unlike me and wearing perfume this morning.

I should clarify, it's not by choice.

No, I had the bright idea that I would give the bathroom a quick scrub-down after my shower... and in the process of being so industriously clean I managed to knock a box of random make-up and perfume samples off the vanity. And, of course, one of the perfume samples shattered all over the floor, in that nasty spot behind the toilet.

Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. It's that scrubby, dusty and slightly damp spot way in the back, the one you can't touch with a mop, the one that's really hard to reach without getting down on your hands and knees, squeezed in the tiny gap between the vanity and the toilet, where you're forced to make out with the toilet brush until you find what you're looking for...

It's the spot you basically forget about until you drop a perfume sample back there. You know the one.

The end result: My bathroom smells like a grandma, and I smell like I marinated in grandma-juice.

(And did I do the smart thing and throw away the box of unused samples right then and there? Noooooo. Because you never know when you might need that six-year-old tube of Burt's Bees décollete cream! Or the revitalizing eye mask! Or a quick sniff of Eau de Grandma!)

Pack rat what?

It may be Tuesday, but this has Monday Morning Syndrome written alllll over it.

(Originally posted at http://blog.sixhours.net/2007/10/monday-morning-syndrome-redux.html)

cupcake girl
Originally uploaded by calobee

In our old neighborhood, it was quite common to be woken up by the sounds of yelling and shouting, but usually the yells and shouts were death threats. Yeah, it was that kind of neighborhood.

Now we live in a college town, which means we're surrounded by intellectuals and intelligent minds, ambitious young men and women who love learning and seek to expand their horizons and open their minds...

... usually with drugs. Yay! With that in mind, I present to you -

Things one shouldn't have to wake up to early on a Saturday morning:

1. The sound of a drunken college kid belting out "Heyyyyyy guyyyyys!" in perfect show-tune singsong at ample volume.

My first reaction? Jazz hands, everyone! Vaudeville has finally come for me!

My second reaction? Death to the drunken frat boys on my lawn! DEATH!

2. Drunken college kid number 2, shouting at an equally loud volume, "I never thought I'd be walking around with you guys, WITHOUT PANTS, at 4 in the morning!"

Emphasis on the part about no pants. And hey, now I know what time it is.

Of course, I immediately went for a look-see, but alas, it was too dark. Which makes sense, because it was, ahem, four-o'clock in the morning. On a Saturday.

Did I mention the part about death?

I considered yelling at them from the balcony of our bedroom, but then I figured that a completely naked lady screaming at the half-naked drunken frat boys for disturbing the peace... let's just say, the irony didn't escape me.

Intellectuals and intelligent minds, indeed!

Anywho, the above doodle has absolutely nothing to do with pantsless, showtunes-lovin' drunk people. Thank the stars for that!

No, actually, three really cool things happened yesterday:

1) I won a contest at the ThisNext blog! If the prize is as cool as my Tovolo goodies are, I'm excited.

2) One of my photos made the front page at Etsy! Yay!

3) Finally, the cupcake girl doodle above was a runner-up in Hey Pretty Cupcake's artist collaboration contest! So keep an eye out for her there in the upcoming weeks.

So, Internets, it's been nearly a month! S'up with you?

(Originally posted at http://calobee.blogspot.com/2007/09/choir-boy-and-pantsless-wonder.html)

I think I need to go back to bed.  This crappy April weather fried my brain.

Case in point:  I forgot my work laptop's power adapter at home.  This being the power adapter for the laptop that randomly shuts itself off if it's not always plugged in, and has been known to tell me there are four hours of battery life left where there are really only three minutes.  (Thankfully I have a wonderful significant other who drove the fifteen miles back home to grab the power adapter for me, because he's nice like that.  I love him.  Have I mentioned that?  LOVE him.)

Second case in point:  It's 11:00 a.m. and I'm already starving.  I decide to heat up my soup for lunch.  I do this, and get it back to my desk, ready to dig in... and realize I don' t have a spoon.  Anywhere.  The office kitchen does not have a spoon - only knives and forks.  So I am here at my desk, slurping my soup as quietly as possible, and hoping that my coworkers won't notice my tomato soup mustache, or how carefully I'm eating the chunky bits with a fork.

Third case in point:  Starting tonight, we're watching our landlady's cats for a few days while she and her husband visit family out of state.  Yesterday evening I got into bed, all ready to sleep, and realized I couldn't remember her cats' names.  At all.  And as I racked my sleep-deprived brain for possible clues (because I knew I wasn't going to sleep until I could remember) the only things I came up with were the names of Teletubbies. 

Teletubbies.  What.  The.  Fuck?

And then I started second-guessing myself on their feeding schedule, too - was it one tablespoon morning and night, or two?  Two tablespoons each, or just two, total?  Shit.

Let's hope she left a note, or she might come back to extraordinarily fat and/or skinny cats that only answer to Tinky Winky and Po.

Fourth case in point:  I was telling the S.O. about the third point last night when we somehow got on the subject of "alternative ways" to dry a wet cat.  Don't ask.

Him:  You could always hang them up by the scruffs of their necks to dry.

Me:  What, like on a clothesline?

Him:  Yeah.

Me:  That's animal cruelty!

Me:  ... I mean, it's so much faster to use the dryer.

Holy moly, where have I been?  Lost in my own head somewhere.  But I'm popping out of my narcissistic stupor for a moment to say, "Hello, Internets!"  And because I know you missed me, it's time for another edition of...

What is Caro thinking right now?

• I found the perfect underwear.  They're simple, they're comfortable, and they're the granny-panties of my dreams.  Every time I put them on, I feel like my butt is getting a big, soft, warm hug.  I mean, wouldn't you hug your butt if it was physically possible?  Sure you would.
  
• I celebrated a birthday somewhere toward the end of January, and I spent most of it moping.  However, I did remember to treat myself to an online shopping spree of epic proportions.  And then I celebrated by slathering myself with Philosophy's Vanilla Birthday Cake and Buttercream Frosting body washes.  My shower smells like a bakery, which helps me forget about the fact that I have too much gray hair for a 24-year-old, and that I still can't wash away that unsightly bathtub ring. 
  
• Bonus points if you got the TMNT reference in that last sentence.
• A certain popular video game expansion pack that was released a couple weeks ago has given me a reason to live play WoW again.  Sheara will get to level 70 if only because she needs a flying mount to be able to fish the highland lakes in Terokkar Forest.  No, really.  Raiding?  What?  I pay 15 bucks a month to fish!  Level 66 and counting.
• All hail the mighty Tax Refund!
  
• Three letters:  Dee Vee Arrrrrr.  That's right.  The S.O. and I finally joined the 21st century and signed up for digital cable, complete with DVR.  When he was little, my brother the bird bladder (sorry J!) would sit down with the rest of the family to watch TV, and five minutes into the show he'd say, "Mum, pause it, I need to go to the bathroom."  My mother would respond with, "You can't pause television, silly."  Now, eighteen years later, my bro's bird bladder dreams have been realized.  Who's the silly one now, huh!?!  HUH?!?!
  

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the living room, obsessively pausing and rewinding 24.  Just because I can.