Pissing away Sunday

I have been busy these past few weeks. Ball breaking busy. Overwhelmed with life busy. So taken over with tasks that I can't breathe busy. I have like 5 jobs right now and they are all moving alot and demanding a portion of my time. It's been killing me. And I look worse for the wear.

I am disheveled. Sweaty (thanks Mother Nature for the evilest of heatwaves EVER - bitch), undernourished, sleep deprived and grouchy.

My husband has seen me busting my non-existant balls and has felt for me. He knows I am working hard and wants to help.

So Sunday was my day to play. And by play I mean sleep and shop. And he did BOTH with me.

We started our blissful and fleeting Sunday off by sleeping in until 9:45. Felt gooooooooooood. My dogs even slept the whole time. It was lovely.

As I slowly shook sleep off me and guzzled some Earl Grey tea and cream he looked over at me and asked "So did you want to head out and we can do some clothes shopping for you?"

Excuse me? What was that?? You want me to get dressed, go out and spend money on myself and by clothes and you are going to OFFER to come with me?"

I nearly spit out my tea. And spitting is hard with braces. I could cut myself.

So we went shopping to a lovely minorly famous shopping mall near my house that is open air and situated right by the ocean so you get a awesome breeze and groovy music wafting through the air.

People go there on weekends to sit outside & people watch. They bring their dogs too(with the diamond encrusted collars and freshly groomed fur). I shit you not, I was in BCBG and some lady was shopping with GREAT DANE. Not a little lap dog, but a very well trained Great Dane. Inside the store. And no one batted an eye. Lordy. I am surprised they didn't offer her some $30 dog biscut.

Anyway - we go, I have been give the green light to spend by my man and what do I do????? WHAT DO I DO??!!!!

I choke.

I fall short. I prematurely ejaculate. I go limp. I just could not mentally get into shopping. I have been told to spend and I cannot do it. I can't buy myself anything. Nothing seems "right". I totally failed as a woman. So I am here NOT to gloat over the cute outfits I bought. How adorable the shirt dress was I tried on and did not buy. Nothing. I am a terrible woman. I give wives everywhere a bad name. How can I honestly hold my head up when I have failed the female species in my one true task as a wife: to shop.

I am ruined.

My husband sees only upside to this. He got points by offering me whatever I wanted. That I did not take them is not the issue. AND I spent no money. Homeboy is on cloud nine.

Brunch in a heat wave

I love brunch. There is no better concept to me. You get all the tasty breakfast foods I like, like Eggs Benedict...yum, bagels, hash browns and sausage. But THEN depending on where you chose to go they willa dd things like SUSHI, caviar, ribs, tacos, and basically anything else. It is a shmorgasbord of tasty. PLUS they pour you champagne constantly.

I love me some brunch. Sooooooooooooo very much. Today was a cooler version of the hotter than hell heat wave days that have plagued us for several days. The state of California is roasting right now. It's fucking HOT. Problem for my husband and I is this small teenie weenie itsy bitsy problem.

WE HAVE NO AIR CONDITIONING.

This usually not a problem in the slightest. Normally. There is 1 short week a year where we are both like FUCKING kill me it's hot. Normally it's just too cool here thanks to a very nice off shore breeze that will flow through constantly. A couple of open windows. A frosty beverage in your hand and you are set.

Not this July. This July choo would be lying if you said it wasn't bastardly hot. So my man and I decided to pick up after a nice cool morning and make our way down to our fave restaurant on the peninsula and have a wonderful & tasty brunch near the water.

Big mistake. I got shitty drunk. And it wasn't even 11 AM yet and it was BALLS ASS hot. Not a good combo. Not to mention the peninsula is a tourist haven on days like today since a great deal of families will pack up their kids, set up camp on the beach and swim in their jeans. Fucking HATE that. Buy a fucking swim suit people. $20 bucks at Target folks. It may not be the prettiest swimsuit... but how the hell can swimming in your t-shirt and jeans be any better I ask you?!

So my husband had to deal with me drunk, sweaty as I staggered to the water to put my toes in. 1 drunk Anna + 1 big wave = 1 soggy confused Anna. Thank god I had my swimsuit on under my dress. It didn't look as pathetic as it could have. Picture on very flat chested girl trying to hold her own wet t-shirt contest. Pretty sad site.

All in all, I did have a great time. I love living where I do. Too bad people who like to swim in their jeans like to visit.

Clerks II

No matter what anyone sez, I am gonna see this. I loved the original so much that I will gladly stumble out after a lazy, what the hell am I gonna do with my life day and see this movie.

And yes, I will try not to suck any dick on the way to the parking lot.

Oh. My. Gawd.

Things that I am thinking about today:

1. Israel vs Hezbollah, Iran + N. Korea, Kelsey Grammer wins an Emmy for "Simpsons" voice over - what in the hell is WRONG with the world?!
2. I just finished plucking my eye brows. I am doomed to have my fathers eye brows. Means I need to puchase a mini lawn mower for my brow.
3. My skin is officially not as firm as it used to be. I think that is poo poo.
4. I think Suri Cruise is the Messiah. There is just TOO much hype about her for her to be anything else. Her birth will be her most important achievement. Everything else will be down hill. I KNOW DOWN HILL. You don't know. I have studied DOWN HILL. How can you be so glib?!
5. Why are there no snow cone stands in Orange County? Is it too Republican toallow public ice licking?
6. Some one told me the other day I looked like Scarlett Johansson. Then she pulled out her book and began to read. With her fingers. Should I be offended?
7. Why is today too hot for underwear? Is another sad by product of global warming going to be a surge in the use of banana hammocks? I am moving to the north pole.
8. Today I have consumed 2 doughnuts, 3 slices of deli meat and a piece of cheese. I also have slouched all day. I should be shot.
9. I think I will be ready to have kids when I can stop calling babies "it" rather than "he" or "she". Oops. Sorry Baby Lila... Didn't realize I did it until my husband pointed it out.
10. I need 1 million people to each send me $1. If you are willing... I will send you my PO Box address. Yes, you can enter in my sweepstakes more than once. Chances are winning are 1 in 1 if your name is Anna and you control this blog.

Ugh...

My grumpy brother in law is getting married. I like him, he's just grumpy. And I like his fiance, she is just grumpy too.

Now I have to spend the last weekend in September up north watching two grumpy people unite. It will be interesting. I know I should be happy for him (and I am) but when two people aren't happy separately, how in the hell can they be any happier together?

This is gonna be fun fun fun. If you happen to think of me on September 23rd, think happy thoughts. Hopefully they will float my way and I can enjoy SOME part of the weekend.

Sheesh.

Also, I used happy a lot in this post. I am trying to FORCE the concept onto everyone involved with this event. Let see if it works.


HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY.

Damn, say that or type that too much in a row and the word looks lame. H-A-P-P-Y.

Ok. I am done.

Aren't you glad. Er, uh... happy?

Shout out of 'tanks....

to the King of Annaland.

As mentioned below. Had me a shitty time the other day, it being caused by yours truly so I had no one to blame but myself.

That night as I mentioned, we headed to a bar for a quick little cheering up. We decided to go to our new favorite bar by our place since his music teachers band was playing and it should be a mellow night. They are working out the kinks as they form a cover band for Social D. So this was a opportunity for them to just get up on stage and work out the kinks. They are still trying to decide on their Social Distortion cover band name. Turned out to be a pretty quiet night in the bar as it was just the owner, the band and two other groups. (They knew it would be dead since it was a Monday night, the day after the World Cup final game and it's an Irish pub so basically anyone who would have been there was spent from the day before - not the bands fault... they were GOOD)

Anyway - got to know the owner & the band and drank WAY too much and simply had a blast with my old man. I swear to God he makes me laugh like I used to when I partied in college. And it's just the two of us. So I had a fab time.

But what made it so interesting is that since we (I was) drunk, it was important that on our way home we stop at a very specific donut shop to pick up a maple bar. It was URGENTLY important actually.

There, waiting for us in our ever so lovable donut shop is our very favorite donut shop owner, working the midnight shift as he always does prepping for the next morning. What makes him so great is his "upsell" technique. Most shop owners do this, but his... well his style is very different. For instance, his very Vanna White style presentation of all energy drink choices he has at his disposal for you. Like some bitch from the Price is Right he will display the very APPEALING and MOUTHWATERING cans of Red Bull and Monster something or other.

If that does not tickle your fancy, he will move on to the coffee/fake cappuccino machine maker and temp your taste buds with the warm and delicious aroma of freshly brewed fake cappuccino fully equipped with an anti hand burning cup ring to protect even the most delicate of fingers.

Not a fake cappuccino drinker? May he suggest a very luscious bottle of vitamin packed water for the health nut donut eater?

Homeboy could go on and on. It's upsell city for that man and he will not let up.

ALWAYS a comical treat at the end of a libation packed night.

So thank you King of Annaland for taking to mellow out and entertain me not only with great drinks and music, but a donut infested comedy show as well.

'tanks a lot.

To snag a favorite finale to my post this day I shall steal from my dear old friend. Senior SRH- we go WAY back like 6 months to a year and I am in love with his son Little Man...

To Recap:

Got drunk ,

I like maple bars

I met the male Asian Vanna White

I steal from other people's blogs.

I am not certain about the apostrophe in that last statement.

I love Little Man

Owners of Irish pubs know how to get all the good sports channels.

My vote was to call them Social Double D's.

dear god

What a bloody day. Worst I have had in a great while. I can honestly say it was so bad that I am ok now. So horrible that my senses have gone into shock and at this point I can just laugh. Mainly because I spent most of the afternoon ready to through myself into oncoming traffic and end my misery. Now I am numb to the shittiness of it.

Picture this pleasant scene if you will:

Camera fades in and we see our heroine sitting pleasantly in her automobile racing along the freeway rocking out to some lame 80's song.

She pauses. Notices that she is uneasily low on gas. Being 60 miles from home, she feels it may be smart to stop and pick up some gas in this strange foreign city before she goes any deeper into nowhere.

She pulls into a gas station and reaches for her wallet. She cannot find it. ANYWHERE. She starts to realize this is going to become a HUGE bummer if her wallet containing all her cash, her ID, credit cards and any other means of survival does not turn up soon since she has NO WAY to get home if she doesn't.

60 miles from home - with no gas, no way to get any money to GET gas and it's 3 pm and rush hour traffic is now upon her, which means even if she can get the King of Annaland to get to her with cash, it will take him at least 2 hours to get off work and 2 1/2 hours to get to her. Yes, 60 miles away, rush hour traffic equals 2 1/2 hours. It's 100 degrees. There is nothing but this gas station around. AAA will come and bring her 2 gallons of gas, but with stop and go traffic... that means our dear Anna will only get 1/3 of the way home. She tries asking if they would just TYPE in her credit card # without the card and she would enter her pin. No can do, apparently. Damn it to hell.

By this point our heroine is beyond frustrated and desperate. Ready to write out a homeless Will Work for Food/Cash/Gas sign to gain $$$ to fill up her tank, her husband calls with a solution.

What is this solution?

A $20 donation from the good ole El Monte PD. Yes dear readers. The police bailed ME out!

Don't ask how it got to that point. That is a whole story that at this point I am too fed up to type about.

Just know Anna had to drive to the El Monte PD station with the little fumes I had left in my car, wait for them to handle whatever bookings that had to handle and then take the envelope full of cash handouts from the El Monte PD employees. They all told me they understood. That it had in some why happened to them before. I know they were lying to make me feel better. No person in the history of the world has done a dumber thing than that. I win. I am the stupidest of the stupid. The dumbest of the dumb. The lamest of the lame. I shall be baking them cookies, sending back their $20 and surgically embedding my credit card magnetic strip on my forehead so they will let me get gas next time.

I have a headache. It's 9 pm on a Monday night. We are leaving in 10 minutes to take my frustrated ass to a bar. I will be drunk by 9:30, in bed by 10. With gas in my tank.

Hey YOU!

Yeah YOU. The one at the Pentagon who keeps reading my blog. I know you are watching me. I am watching you too. I am totally watching you. Two can play that came Mister. Or Missus. Whatever you are. I am soooo not scared that you are at the Pentagon, with all your inside information taking notes on me. I am not afraid. I can take a little "heat". You ain't gonna make me back down.

Nope. Cuz I write for truth, justice and the American way. I guess you do too - but still - this is my blog so I take precidence. So there.

If you are tracking me though, please know I don't know where Osama is. I heard he was hiding somewhere in Pakistan but that's all I got. Maybe try looking there.

Also - sorry - I don't know where Jimmy Hoffa is either. Then again, maybe I do - but since it's not a matter of national security, I amsure you don't care. I know your buddies at the FBI are working on that. If any of them start reading my blog as religiously as you do, I'll bring up that topic with them.

Anyway, I also have no info for you on whats going on in North Korea. Tell George I fucking told him to take care of that crap YEARS ago. Damn he is so narrow minded. You can quote me on that one. While you are at it, tell him happy birthday. He looks old. Being President can do that to you. Maybe he should take a vacation er sumthin'. Ha ha... yeah I know that was funny.

So my point is, whyever you keep coming to my site to check shit out - I thank you for being a loyal reader. Just don't come and lock me up or anything. I look terrible in an orange jumpsuit and my hair would totally frizz if you sent me to Gitmo... besides, I could only take so much Cuban food. Unless you send me there and Jack Nicholson is there to give that really cool speach from A Few Good Men. I know that wasn't really AT Gitmo, but whatever - you know what I mean.

I would love to come back from there and be able to say that line about eating breakfast 100 yards from men trained to kill me to ungrateful Liberals who are ruining America. Do I sound neo con enough for you? Good. Hopefully that means I am safe. Or not.

No one ever believes me....

then they are stunned when the see it. I am talking about the July 4th festivities that occur in my neighborhood. You see where I live fireworks are legal. Which is not the norm for most of the So. Cal area that surrounds us.

In the past I have told people how they wouldn't believe it and I ALWAYS get some lame ass comment like "Oh yeah - we get the crazy explosions too - people are letting them off even though it's not legal... bla bla bla." When people tell me this - I know they aren't really listening to me when I say it's insane in my neighborhood.

For years I have invited people to my house and everyone always has a BIG show they would rather go to except those who are local who know that there is no fucking point going to one of them in our community - because the big organized fireworks have NOTHING on the illegal and legalized ones that explode around our house for 3-4 hours straight. In our neighborhood, if someone says they are going to a fireworks show - we all know they have no idea. They probably are new and have no clue. There is no way to describe it. I have lived in other places were we have set off fireworks as a kid. It was fun, but never like this. I have even spent years in neighborhoods where it wasn't legal and still people set them off, still not the same at all.

Again - no words can express unless you have been here. It REALLY is like a war battle. It's like our own little version of Shock and Awe in Orange County. They entire city has a flittered glow of sparklers and fountains and all you hear in every direction if fffffooooam & then BOOM as giant ILLEGAL fireworks are set off all around your home. The kind that are what the professional display companies use. The huge kind. Being set off in our driveway by strangers.

This year among the local regulars who know better and show up - my dear friend Trace attended.

Her eyes were as big as saucers for about the first hour as she got used to the carnage & the smoke and kept saying thinks like "holy shit - this is worse than Baghdad. This is insane. I am a little scared right now." Needless to say it was like nothing she had ever seen before.

To give you an example, here is what occurred last night. This year, as it is tradition ever year - I handle the fireworks. I like fire. No, no, I LOVE fire. I don't even care to watch the fireworks I set off. I just love igniting them and know destruction is to follow. So I set up 2 ladders in the street in front of my house with a piece of wood resting between them as a table to place my fireworks on to give the fountains more explosive grandeur. So I am out in the middle of the street, a little drunk, just finished watching an explosive display of neighborhood pyrotechnics a block away and preparing for my little "show" . My neighbors from across the street ONLY have illegal fireworks. They don't bother with the kind bought in packages on the local street corner. I always wait to start my fireworks until later in the evening so I can see everyone else's shit and wait for my neighbors to come out. It takes them a little longer to get going - the druggies.

Anyway - they (my druggie neighbors) have finally emerged from their caves and are shooting off Roman Candles, bottle rockets, monstrous sky exploders etc about 10 feet from me. I am setting up a few of my lame little legal fireworks when I see one of my neighbors light something and drop it on the ground and RUN. He never runs. The following events are all happening in a split second mind you. As I see him run and I am in the middle of the street I glance at what he lit. It's not marked at all like all the other weapons he has and it is burning differently and it looks like a stick of dynamite. Immediately, and in what feels like slow motion, I drop what is in my hands, cover my ears and turn and run toward my house. ( I look like Bruce Willis running in slow mo in Die Hard- seriously I am almost ready to leap to the ground.) My husband and my friends see me coming at them in my ear covered panicked state. They only have enough time to cover their ears - barely.

KABOOOOOOM!!!!

Yes, my dear readers.... he let off not an M-80 but what our neighbor insisted was an M-1000. No that is not a mistype. one fucking thousand. After our ears stopped ringing, to prove to us it was not an M-80, he then let off 3 or 4 M-80's to compare the noise. Let me tell you. M80's are pussies in comparison. I checked the ground this morning where it went off. There are a few rocks missing from the asphalt but that's it. Thankfully.

We then spent the rest of our evening deaf, drunk , climbing on our roof (to get a 360 view of the chaos) and socializing with our neighbors. We met a guy who just moved in a few months ago. We asked him what he thought of it. He was blown away. He said he wished someone would have warned him. He would have taped his windows in case they shattered. I don't think he was joking.

I think Trace summed up how our 4th went by saying this.

"I have learned one thing about the 4th of July in your neighborhood Anna, it is the perfect place and the perfect time if you ever want to shoot someone and not get caught." I

Yes, my dear - it is.

Visited my mutha

My mom. Aint she sweet. She has been my mom for as long as I can remember. We go way back. I think she has even seen me naked.

Anyway - she's ok. A little kooky, but ok in my book. Yesterday I was scheduled to meet a client in the afternoon about 30 minutes away from her. That client cancelled (thank God) so I thought I would give my mama a shout out and see if she wanted to donate a little of her free time to meeting with me, her fucking first born.

Usually, I can't ever get her to acknowledge I am alive. Seriously. I thought parents were supposed to call up nag and say things like "You never call" , "You never write", "You should come visit your dear old mother sometime.", " You look thin! Are you eating?!"

Those are mother type things to say. You know what MY mother normally says when I call? "Uh, huh. Yeah. That's nice. Look I gotta go, I'm really busy. I am glad you called honey. Take care." Click.

Bitch.

And that's when she is feeling talkative. I ALWAYS have to call her. I think she 'accidentally' deleted my number off her cell.

So I was gonna force her to love me yesterday. Thankfully Madame Social Butterfly was free so I showed up on her doorstep and said "Entertain me." And holy cow - she actually did.

We went to some tasty Mexican restaurant serving delicious seafood. It was spicy - we drank beer, she got tipsy and even kookier. We went shopping, we even sat around and talked about life.

How sad is THAT? To me this is bloggable stuff here. That I spent the day with my mommy. By forcing her to do it.

Did I mention that I had to handcuff her to me to get her to come along? Yeah, forgot to mention that part. Too bad later I lost the key. It was ok though. To get away from me, my mom finally gnawed her own arm off.

She loves me so much.