Monday, October 12, 2015

And when we go crashing down we come back every time

This Is Why People Have Kids' Parties at Kids' Party Places Like Pump It Up or a GodDamn Bowling Alley: A Partial List

  • 16 fairies, with wings
  • 2 little brothers
  • 1 babysitter who was so helpful I should have paid her $500
  • 1 parent who was so helpful I probably embarrassed her with the effusiveness of my thanks
  • A fairy house painting craft (fucking Pinterest, goddamn) that was actually rather a success
  • A cake parade (18 kids marching through the house shouting CAAAAKE! CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE!!!, much like drunken adults at a bar when that "Shots" song comes on)
  • A fairy dance party (primarily to Taylor Swift's entire 1989 album,* purchased online for the occasion, on repeat)
  • The pin the wand on the fairy game (I forgot both the eye covering -- eventually using a scarf that, well ... I just really hope none of those kids had lice that night -- and the fact that there's supposed to be a prize for the winner)
  • A fairy egg hunt in the gloaming, which served as the distribution for and stuffing of goodie bags 

Mr. Gleemonex and I are exhausted, but the party was a hit, and Kid Gleemonex was thrilled and grateful (oh my heck, one only turns eight once, doesn't one, after all?), and we are NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN.

*Here's how you know a person is An Old: They still call it an album and honestly can't think what the fuck else they're supposed to call it so shut up 

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Monday, October 05, 2015

Gentle and soft / smoooooooooth and easaaaaayyy

So I was practicing my bass this morning (I do 10 minutes a day -- at this rate, I'll be an expert pro bassist in four million years!), and I was working on "Hotel California," and I could not stop laughing to myself, thinking of this, which is the most brilliant thing in the history of ever and if you are not watching the entirety of Documentary Now, you are MISSING OUT:

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Sunday, October 04, 2015

Mad, Mad, Mad Respek for the Mouse

In Which the Blogger Gets Over a Not-Small Amount of Snobbery and Learns to Love -- I Mean, Fucking LOVE -- Disneyland

You guys, the Mouse has got it DIALED.

There is a reason people go there, and then go again and again and again. Every detail -- holy shit, they have every detail covered. Everything from ambient music to shop fronts to the way the queues work -- every perfectly-groomed trash-and-gum-free border planting -- every attendant's themed uniform -- every vista -- every bathroom, for chrissake!  The rides are fun as hell (OMFG, Radiator Springs Racers! Worth the park admission all by itself!), the FastPass system is genius, the workers' commitment to upbeat hospitality is awesome, the experiences of each area and attraction ... holy crap, you guys. I cannot praise this family vacation highly enough -- we barely looked at our phones, except to coordinate our movements and meetups, and we watched precisely zero TV or iPad for five straight days, which is miraculous for us. We walked as much as 13.2 miles in a single day, we blazed from six a.m. to 10 p.m. three days in a row ... we are all fucking exhausted but had such an awesome time! I'm over being a snob about the kind of people who go to Disneyland -- cause now I'm one of them, and I love the Mouse.

Herewith, some thoughts:

  • I would under no circumstances attempt Disneyland & California Adventure:
    • at anything less than 90% of my optimal health and mobility (CHRIST there's a lot of walking, stairs, walking, getting in and out of small spaces, onto boats, etc., and walking), 
    • with any child under 40" tall (the threshold for virtually all the best rides), 
    • without the Extra Magic Hour/Magic Morning (obtained either by staying in an on-property hotel or via buying the whole package through Costco Travel -- a whole hour before the park opens to the public. It's worth every penny)
    • or with less than a 3-day park-hopper pass (there's no way to see/do everything you want to do in less time without dying of exhaustion). 
  • I was under the impression that the FastPass system was pay-to-play -- but it isn't. I won't explain it here, but all it is is, with a little planning, you can skip lines and just ride rides. DO IT. 
  • Cars Land -- Radiator Springs -- is the greatest theme park "land" I've ever seen in my life.
  • The animation academy -- learn to draw a Disney character in about 15 minutes -- was fun, and not something I'd've thought to do, but Kid Gleemonex wanted to, so we did, and now I want to do more of them.
  • The spaces allowed by the queue fencing on all the older rides (basically all of Disneyland, and anything built before, say, the mid 90s) are hilariously narrow -- not built to accommodate today's XXL American Physique, lordamercy. 
  • World of Color was kind of meh -- it's supposed to be fountains and fireworks, and it is, but it's also -- primarily -- this weird worship service for The Genius And Wonder of The Most Beloved Dreamster Of All Time, Walt -- WONDERFUL Walt -- Disney. 

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Thursday, September 24, 2015

Mekka-lekka-hai, mekka hiney ho

People, The Dailey Method is not a workout. 

I'm not saying it's not hard, or it's not work, but it isn't a workout. I think I'd actually like it (if they'd let me in, despite my lack of an Acura MDX to get there, and Lululemon outfits to wear during it) -- I'm into Pilates, and ballet, and all that stuff, and it is really pretty awesome. But it doesn't really make you sweat, and if you're looking to lose weight or burn calories or get some cardio? This is not your jam. Therefore: The Dailey Method is not a workout. It is an activity. 

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Friday, September 18, 2015

Don't lean on me, man, cause you can't afford the ticket

How come every time I go to Michael's, the place is filled with legit demented people?

I don't mean Pinterest Moms -- they're quietly demented, in a way that I can actually understand, because goddammit I do like crafts and if I had a sexually-uninteresting husband, I could see falling down that rabbit hole in a big way. No, I mean serious, genuine, criggity-craggity-cray folk, like the lady who kept trying to talk to me about whether aqua was a good color for her and whether this or that was "too much" as she tried on bead jewelry and laughed inappropriately and I tried to figure out how many of these fucking favor bags I have to buy for Kid Gleemonex's upcoming birthday party. I AM MATHING HERE. I CANNOT MATH THIS WITH THINGS FALLING OUT OF YOUR BLAB-HOLE INTO MY EAR. Or the one with no bra who followed me down the aisle of $1 wooden boxes/birdhouses/picture frames asking me what I was going to do with "all them tiny birdhouses." (In her defense, the 20 of them I bought must have seemed a lot for someone who didn't already smell of bird droppings.)* OR the lady with one fully-bandaged arm and zero shoes upon her feet, who appeared to be trying to run some sort of returning-items-for-cash scam, at absolutely glacial speed, on a teenage cashier who clearly did not have English as her first language but was trying heroically hard to be fair and pleasant.

Where did they come from, where do they go? Don't look now, it's crazy-eyed joe!

*If you must know, it's a birthday party craft I found on, um. Pinterest. They're fairy houses. Or will be, when they're painted and have a bunch of glittery stickers and shit all over them.

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Thursday, September 10, 2015

She's the reason I know who the Replacements are, although that's a point neither for nor against her.

I guess Winona Ryder is just going to be magickal for me, forever. This is her in Show Me a Hero (a six-episode miniseries about public housing in Yonkers, NY, in the 80s and 90s, by the Wire guy, which Mr. Gleemonex and I finished watching last week). I can never not with her. She is my everything.
I'm going to kiss you now, Gerald.

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Thursday, September 03, 2015

Workin' on my night cheese

Disgusting Food-Liquids That Are Supposedly Harmless: An Incomplete List
  • The watery whey-milk that usually manages to crest the top of the waxed-paper inner barrier of my Fage yogurts. Pleh. 
  • Tuna-can water. You can never ever not get that stuff on your hand. Everybody Loves Raymond did a bit about it that ran through an entire episode once, and throughout, I was like: Truth. 
  • The gunk surrounding the weiners in a pack of turkey dogs. I mean, they're supposedly cooked and this stuff is -- what? Lube so you can get the GD dogs out of the package? 
  • The oil on top of a fresh jar of Skippy Natural peanut butter. Why god why. 
  • The bean-liquor that rises to the top of a can of pintos. For some reason, the same stuff in a can of black beans doesn't bother me as much, but the pintos -- uccch. 

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