Because it’s still Monday somewhere. I think.

January 13, 2009

Ah friends, it’s not you. It’s me. I think I have something chronic that sucks all my energy away. I mean besides the Turnip. Anyway, the gloriously revered Madame Fabu bestowed a tremendous favor upon me yesterday (saving me at least two hours and sizable grief and anxiety out of my day) so I promised I’d blog for her pleasure.

Speaking of the turnip. Project normal sleep pattern is a colossal FAIL. I was lying to myself and saying it was just the weekend that threw him off until he woke me up at 1am today by poking me with the laser tag gun saying “You took my teddy, Now me goings shoot you.” and laughing maniacally.

I confess I did not watch the Golden Globes. I don’t usually watch those shows (except for the Oscars which is more about socializing with my cousin litchick and our friends Sherman and Ray. Sherm, if you are reading this, I’m still committed to our Oscar musical number involving Winnie the Pooh characters on ice. I think we are onto something groundbreaking with it…). However, the post-Golden Globe buzz on twitter (ok pretty much since i only follow a handful of people, the buzz consisted of twitters from my cyber-stalkee Trelvix and my beloved Lucy) indicated that Mickey Rourke was not the hip happenin’ comeback kid that the IMDB has been implying as of late (I think Trelvix best captured the essence of what’s become of the man with “I took a crap and Mickey Rourke was in it. I wrote the part for Nicolas Cage but we could never agree on a believable toupĂ©e for the turd.” and “This probably won’t come up but – just in case – my safe word for today is “Mangina O’Rourke”)

Friends, I’m embarrassed to admit this but The Crseum is nothing if not about full disclosure (when I feel like disclosing that is). I had a horrible crush on Mickey Rourke back in the day. “But Crse! He’s hideous!” you are probably exclaiming right now. True dat, gentle readers, and for those of you younger folks, don’t bother google imaging him. He’s always been hideous. But by unfortunate chance, I happened to become sexually aware about the time the movie “9 1/2 weeks” came out. I won’t go into graphic details about how the movie played into my first disturbing forays into sexual experimentation (in the context of a relationship that should have probably ended with me pressing charges but that’s neither here nor there) but I will say this; I thought the movie was so hot at the time that the male lead could have been played by a plastic faced clownish looking man and it still would have been hot (oh wait, it was played by that guy…).

I could blame the crush entirely on 9.5 weeks, but then friends? Then came my next phase of sexual identity development. As summed up in the movie “Barfly”. Because where does a healthy red-blooded American girl go after being psycho-sexually manipulated? How the hell would I know where she goes? My particular brand of dysfunction, however, led me directly to the brilliant and witty, yet completely falling apart and emotionally unavailable alcoholic. In my defense friends, it was “what we did” in my social circle (Can I get a whoo-whoo on this Luckybuzz? Lainie? Roxie? ) My friends and I, we all had our Charles Bukowskis back in the day. Different ones for the most part. (Friends familiar with My Town know that there is no shortage of underachieving brilliance wrapped up in hot little packages of self-loathing here in my city and surrounding burbs.) Anyway, at the time, I saw absolutely no correlation between my romantic choices and the way Mickey Rourke still managed to look (in my opinion) sexy and piss-stained all at once. I went through an absolute “Barfly” phase friends. I could recite Faye Dunaway’s lines ad nauseum. (And “fortunately” for Luckybuzz, I did).

Mickey Rourke dropped off the radar about the time I met Gill. Ah friends, we did try to bring him into the relationship. We rented “Wild Orchids” and “Angel Heart” (and Lucy I agree, Lisa Bonet did indeed carry him in that film!) and Im sure we “enjoyed” them both. Still, he had no context in our world. We were getting married, he was being arrested for spousal abuse. We were pursuing educations, he was making direct to video films. We were raising our little family, he was being arrested for DUIs. Now, when I look at Mickey Rourke, all I see that turdish mangina as described by M. Trelvix.

I guess you could say that I was lucky he did fade lest I find another repugnant character of his to model my sexual ideals after, thus missing out on my chance at a (relatively) sane happily ever after with Gill. I don’t see it like that however. In fact, the megalomaniac in me can’t help but wonder if somehow my withdrawal of devotion ultimately did lead to the trainwreck he called a career (and let’s face it, personal life) in the 90s. You know, like the butterfly effect? Of course, we’ll never know but in any case? You are welcome for that America.

Anyway, it’s time to face the day. I still mean to blog about my CPR class last week. Because it’s not often I get to watch a large woman wearing far too much yellow feel herself up in front of a room full of people after snubbing me repeatedly only to realize that ultimately she had a girl-crush on me the whole time. Oh yes friends, I still haz it….



December 8, 2008

So we had the official ugly season kickoff on friday. Because readers have been mentioning how confusing my cast of characters can get and because Im fairly certain folks want to remain anonymous, I won’t name my co-conspirators in ugliness. I will say that furniture was broken, puking happened and confessions were abound. (Note to self: In the future, I will remember that “never have I ever” is simply a drinking game and not a legal proceeding with penalties of perjury on the line if I don’t admit every major felony or sexual peccadillo to the group). Still our hosts lived up to their reputation of throwing the best parties in the tri-state area. It was truly like a “hall of fame game” kick off to the season.

Why do you call it the “ugly season” crse? Friends sometimes ask. Well, that’s a lie. Most of my friends have been victimized by my ugly season enough not to have to ask. Unfortunately. While I am proud to say that I myself did not break furniture (I don’t think) or puke (although I wish I had), it did indeed get ugly. And remained ugly. To the point that Ive eaten little more than handfuls of nuts and candy all weekend long because I barely got out of bed until this morning. (In my defense, I spent most of saturday with my throat almost swollen shut and was convinced I had strep until it got better on its own) And now have a sore back. Which means i am struggling to wipe my ass when I poop. Which is of course…ugly. The bright side of this is that I didn’t poop all weekend long because of above mentioned diet. (Speaking of poop, did I mention my friend has a new blog? It’s called poodiaries and makes me laugh hysterically. You have to scroll down to see the newer stuff. She is struggling with the weebles site.) And since we are being positive, the bright side of the poop wipe struggle is that I got my first shower all weekend too. Ugly? I call this win-win friends!

Anyway, the season will continue this weekend although I hope to blog before then. (Im trying to be a better blogizen friends). But I do have an announcement. If you are in my town and were extremely crushed by the fact that you won’t get to see How The Drag Queen Stole Christmas, they’ve added an extra show!
In fact,to quote Dennick directly, you may want to attend “even if you’ve already seen this year’s show. You NEVER KNOW what’s going to come out of these queens mouths after midnight…or what will go in.” Of course, you need to make reservations so go here for more information.

A Crse Of The People

November 24, 2008

I can ignore my (two) fans no longer, so in lieu of the horribly late crsees, I will offer you some random shit until I can get a double crsee feature together (oh and I do have some really good ones saved up friends…)

Warning: Body elimination issues ahead:

– The foster dog is gone. I haven’t given many details about how the foster dog has been disrupting our world because we love the foster dog’s mom and although Im fairly certain she doesn’t read the blog, she has the address and I don’t want to make her cry. But yeah, it sucked. He peed a lot of places. Like on laundry. And in bins of toys. And on coats. He ate chickens off the stove. He stood on the end tables so he could look out the window. He ass-raped George. (note to luckybuzz and the wimmin: Seriously? Who knew that this particular disclosure was going to stop conversation like it did?) In short, we are starting to live again.

– Turnip unfortunately appears to feel the need to compensate for the lack of randomly placed waste elimination today. He started the morning by standing naked in the middle of the kitchen and peeing under the table. I want to describe the scene as it unfolded but it really defies verbal descriptions. I was naively positive about the outcome of this event a) because turnip was really disturbed about the fact that he did this (as opposed to his general “ill pee where i want when i want motherfuckers” attitude) and b) because gill bought a gallon of sanitizer and left it in a conveniently located place allowing for ease of mind in clean up process. (can we get a whoop whoop for gill here? especially since im going to make politely ask him to mop the kitchen over again tonight?)

– Why was it naive? Because a few hours later, the boys (yes Norm is home. Again. He was coughing up lungs last night and this am.) were in the tub and Norm got out to poop. He called me to tell me he didn’t know what to do because his hands were wet and he couldn’t wipe (He gets those problem solving skills from me…hehehe). As I was helping him dry his hands, Turnip tells me that he pooped and is soaking wet too. (Did I mention he was in the tub?) Now friends, I don’t know what possesses me to do this sort of thing but I actually stood there and argued with him for at least a minute. noooo you didn’t poop! You’re just pretending right? “Nope, me pooped mom” No you didn’t buddy, you just heard your brother say that right? “Nope mom, me did it meself”. When did you do this buddy? A while ago? Maybe another time? “Nope me just did it. see?” (question to other parents: are all three year olds this comfortable with handling their own feces? Im just wondering if we might have an issue on our hands) (no pun intended).

So friends, it is the end of the month. I have reports due and a Very. Ugly. Meeting. tomorrow at 1pm so I am going to wade through some metaphorical shit now but promise good things (and to get to my own comments and your blogs) soon….

The Crsees

November 7, 2008

Friends, Ive decided to start a new feature here at The Crseum. Every Friday (or at least for today) I will announce the weekly winners of Crsee awards. To add legitimacy to this process, I plan to make up categories from week to week. I think. Unless I coincidentally have category appropriate rewards. In sum, Im thinking the Crsees are going to be random.

Maybe Ill add a little canned speech at the beginning of each ceremony. Perhaps a dialog between my multiple personalities. Today though, we’ll just jump right in.

1. Most alarming elementary school social trend*: I Heart Troy book bags carried around by little girls. Look you little hussies. Troy is mine. Keep your grimy little nose-picking paws off him.

2. Happiest food surprise: The lovely spread put out at a free local workshop Wednesday. A tower of fruit and dip (now granted it wasnt chocolate friends, but this was at 3 in the afternoon!) and a tray of cookies. And not lame ass cookies either. They were the kind of cookies that take ten minutes to eat because they are so thickly laden with cookie goodness. Did I mention the pitchers of diet soda? BRILLIANT PEOPLE.

3. Saddest realization: That working in mental health has lowered the bar for me considerably in terms of what my refreshment expectations during free mid-afternoon workshops. Or most workshops for that matter. Dammit Im better than munchkins and warm sunny-d after driving for an hour in pre-dawn snow slush.

4. Biggest short term regret- Not fulfilling Lucy’s unexpressed desire to stand up and ask questions about our collaberative experiences using phrases like “well say hypothetically, the ‘champion’ you refer to as a key component of collaboration building happens to be seen by most of the folks she deals with as [insert quote fingers here] incredibly off putting and possibly unstable? How does one work around that for the good of the collaboration?”

5. Biggest long term regret- Ever letting anyone under the age of five be in the same house with dvds.

6. Most annoying schedule change eliciting text message- “emo boy threatened to kill himself again. Can you come out?”

7. Most disturbing direct twitter: commonlucy ok i’m going to bed now, but i had to tell you that our new chief of staff—only nine fingers! sleep well honey.

Our finale was a bit of a nail biter this week. Every day we had a new front runner right up until the end when I tallied results.
8. Most anxiety provoking phone message: From Shakes: I will have to paraphrase but suffice it to say that the boy who has been my client for three days. No. Not even 48 hours was kicked out of daycare for throwing rocks at a little girl. Then threatened to beat the shit out of her. Then threatened to sue her.

Ahhh there’s the music friends. Thanks for tuning in and keep watching. I suspect competition has already started for next week’s Crsees.

* As defined by me….of course.

Another game!

August 28, 2008

Does the fun ever stop here at the crseum? Perhaps my regular readers have noticed I haven’t mentioned soccer practice since the clinic post. (Much like my quest for a pantless summer) Ive noticed you’ve not mentioned it either (and no Im not ready to talk about the notable lack of support shown by friends of crseum in terms of my pantless dreams. Yes. I failed. Seriously friends would it have killed you to give me a little “way to stay pantless” shout out at some point”? Never mind. Still healing. Not talking about it. Don’t worry though, I am too committed to our relationship to let this tear us apart. Besides, next summer has the promise of redemption for us all) I think you were just being polite so I want to reward you with another fun game. Here is a quick test of your accumulated knowledge of all things crse.

I haven’t mentioned it because:
a) It just hasn’t been too exciting so far and Ive had other things to blog about.
b) We dropped out of soccer
c) I lost all the contact literature including the coach’s phone number, thus have missed all practices up until this point causing me to artfully avoid any talk of soccer with Norm and subsequently dread return to school because once the other little kids start talking about their teams, he will realize I completely fucked up his soccer experience.

Ok if you got that right, here is a bonus question testing your abilities to infer:
The coach called last night and apparently read my (our) completely unexplained drop off the radar as:
a) a lack of interest so he asked if we still wanted to play
b) a family problem so he asked if we needed a social services intervention.
c) A good sign that I didn’t also lose all the information from the clinic so Im clearly ready to “run a practice solo”.
They really need to screen us better for this coaching thing. I won’t give away the answer but I will say that Im losing faith in our head coach at a rapid rate.

In other news, I woke up to kicks in the ribs at 715am with the words “koo-waid, get me koo-waid NOW” being yelled in my ear. Did that work in your past life turnip? Because all the planned ignoring, trips to time out and irritated refusal you’ve experienced in the past and present in terms of requests framed in such a manner does not seem to deter you from your horrid little antics. Im also slightly perplexed by you squeezing your entire sports bottle full of kool-aid (that you fought so hard to get) onto the floor. Was your palate so tainted from having to apologize for the violence and say please that the kool-aid was bitter to you? The icing on your little cake of bad behavior was that you immediately asked for more kool-aid after you did this. Oh wait, that icing is the special chocolate-y whipped kind because you actually DIDN’T ask! You demanded in the same scream whine you woke me with this morning! Also? For the record? Im well aware that your refrain from physical attack stemmed only from your lack of proximity as opposed to any real impulse control (you are your mother’s son baby) so no, you don’t get behavior points for that….

Friday is a good day to eat fries. But so is anyday really.

July 25, 2008

More odds and ends until a new story congeals. (Face it friends, shunnings from vagrants and high speed chases with wheelchair bound haughty little people don’t happen every day so we soldier on until then).

– The turnip keeps pooping on the floor. Yes, it’s completely disgusting but it also brings to light that being that Im not generally into defecation kink, I (like most folks) have not seen the act of human pooping in vivo. It’s much more surprising than you think to see it play out in front you. Kind of like seeing a picture of the grand canyon, then seeing the grand canyon. Except not as inspiring.

-The au pair is in Seattle right now which is kind of a bad thing, but the good thing is that we are testing out new sitters. Right now we have a set of twins here. (Don’t go there friends, they are nice girls) The boys are excited because they feel like they have personalized baby sitters.

– I dumped a 32 oz glass of iced tea on the printer yesterday. I cannot even begin to describe the negative ways this will impact my life.

– Speaking of negative impact, forgive the repetition my friends on twitter, but I cannot stress enough how much of a bad idea it is to forget a half eaten fish sandwich in your trunk. It is way worse than the liquefied watermelon ever ever was.

Ok friends. I probably will have more tonight as Im working towards a maximal productive weekend

Because if soccer was easy, they’d call it “your mom”

July 10, 2008

Ok I know I twittered this a few days ago and I actually saw it on a piece of flair. Still it seemed to be the most fitting subject line to introduce my foray into a little pocket of society they call coach’s clinic. Allow me to begin my tale by explaining that I never set out to coach soccer. I was pretty much brow-beat into it at the sign ups in April. (I hate it when people counter my excuse-making lies with solutions) Anyway, they gave me a little slip of paper with this week’s dates on it and told me I should attend coach’s clinic. I didn’t think much more about it as a piece of paper like that invites itself to being lost, thus giving me the instant out. Well friends, they sent a letter. (of course I immediately lost the letter too but not before getting the idea that I indeed was personally expected to attend coach’s clinic). I figured it meant we’d learn about the game, take notes and Id be bored out of my mind for most of the time.

I have to admit that I never realized “clinic” was a synonym for spending six hours in an adult version of outside gym class. I am going borrow from blog stalkee Dexter Colt and break it down into good bad retelling.

Good: I was not the only woman there.
Bad: The other women were kind of jerky and wouldn’t talk much to me.

Good: LOTS of hot guys there.
Bad: My partner wasn’t one of them.

Good: My partner stuck with me through the whole clinic.
Bad: He was a short obnoxious know-it-all with boobs almost as big as mine.
Bad: It killed him to tell me I was doing anything right.

Good: Part of coaching means we get to throw balls at little kids’ head. When I muttered “awesome” several other guys nodded and we giggled in anticipation.
Bad: Turns out the guy who is my actual head coach did not laugh which means half the fun will be sucked out of the ball throwing process.

Good: I did not have to play a “demo” game.
Bad: I still had to wear the stinky jersey.
Fact: I was fairly certain I would have been killed as suddenly the coaches were playing “prison rules”.

Good: When we worked in groups of four, the other three guys tried really hard to not make me be the “monkey in the middle”.
Bad: I sucked bad enough that I still couldn’t get out of the middle.
Bad: “I don’t need your pity” changed to “Ill totally take your pity” which changed to “Ok I couldn’t complete the pity pass so can someone else please just go in the middle?”

Good: I was really good at chest drops.
Bad: My know-it-all moob partner spent the whole time we were doing chest drops making inappropriate comments that would have been offensive if I wasn’t so embarrassed about how much he sounded like a sixth grader who never saw boobs before.

Good: I learned a LOT about kicking which will be helpful in kickball this fall.
Bad: I still have no understanding of the game of soccer.

Good: My head coach does seem really nice and knowledgable.
Bad: He is REALLY nice making me think he is not going to appreciate the finer nuances of kid mockery, which is really the only benefit Ive been able to see from the coaching.

At least I have you friends. Stay tuned for sideline updates.