[ love/hate ] relationship

you know what i love?  

:: besides sushi, pin-up girls, and extra large martinis ::

butterflies. 
and not the kind that flutter all wobbly-like from one flower to the next.  if we're talking insects, i prefer dragonflies.  they fly with purpose... darting in straight lines... often landing with precision in the exact same spot multiple times.  i admire their consistency and grace.

i love phantom belly butterflies. 
the kind that are brought on by anxiety, excitement, nerves, or anticipation.  i often get this sensation while i'm waiting in line for a roller coaster.  [anticipation]  while receiving good/bad news.  [excitement/anxiety]  while i'm getting ready to go out dancing. [excitement/anticipation] while i'm meeting new people and bracing myself for the inevitable moment when i get tongue tied and say something moronic.  [all of the above]

but no matter what the cause...  i absolutely adore the buzzy feeling of belly butterflies.

you know what i hate?

:: besides mosquitoes, traffic, and obtuse personalities ::

that i can't tell a good joke without giving away the punchline.

whirlpool

tonight i will fashion a saran wrap overcoat for myself and go barefoot like a hippie.
i know my naughty self will think tropical storm night swimming is a fantastic idea.

so, i'm wondering... if i use enough saran wrap, will it double as a floatation device?  

because after several pints of billy's punch duke it out with my liver...
extra floatation will be mandatory.






EDIT:  and i failed to mention how the foreseeable ingestion of espresso martinis will play a role.

look mom, no hands!

weather makes people crazy. 
light rain shower = cars driving 15 mph
snow storm midday = 8,927 workers simultaneously getting in their cars causing statewide gridlock
prediction of hurricane = citizens flocking to any and all stores to buy them out of batteries, duct tape and water.

weather makes me crazy.
but not for the same reasons.  i apparently was not born with the "oh, no.  we might die in this natural disaster, therefore i should prepare." gene.  so when pesky things like hurricanes are predicted i sit in my bubble enjoying my day to day per usual. 

then i realize...
"oh, crap.  we ran out of bananas, oranges and wine.  and i am making dinner for six people tonight, so i need to pick up the ingredients."
which is what just happened. 

i've weighed out my options but since i am a culinary snob as a hostess, i have no choice.  i must go to the nearest supermarket and hip check my way through the aisles, while my daughter screams with delight believing she is on some kind of raucous rollercart ride. 

i will now run practice drills to prepare for the madness that i am about to partake in.

haikurant

thirteen plus puddles
on the carpet, couch, and tile
rolls of paper...gone.

note to you and you...
buy stock in the following:
scott and carpet spray

my household alone
will ensure a high return
i shall make you rich

you will buy sports cars
while i become known as a
"crazy cat lady"

this bites the big one
how i hate thee with passion,
potty regression

ticked off ninjas with brazilian butts

i have a special gift.  a talent if you will.  however, said talent has no net worth.  sadly, it will not make me the millions i need to retire at the ripe age of 35.  but if you are channel surfing your trillion and ten channels and you can't find anything to watch... give me a call.  out of the kindness in my heart i will steer you in the right direction.  because i have a knack for discovering the most intriguing titles.  my most recent programming discoveries include gems such as...

"ticked off trannies with knives"
"life is hot in cracktown"
"perkier boobs"
"brazilian butts"
&
"chop like a ninja"

i am slightly disappointed i missed the latter while watching brazilian butts because i would like to know how to chop like a ninja.  now that's a talent that i could put to good use.

hii-yahh!

(i have a feeling that ninjas are silent.  see... i'm already doing it wrong.  damn brazilian butts.)

i don't think it's a tape measure

i'm eating my weight in cheez-its.
yesterday it was nut thins.
two days ago it was macaroni and cheese and bertucci's rolls.

i'm curious what the tapeworm will want tomorrow.

my best buddy, bacon

when i was no longer living under my parents roof i went veggie.  i did not buy birkenstocks.  i just gave up the dreaded meat i was coerced into eating while residing with the parental units.  i was vegetarian for a total of eight months.  one afternoon i went to a diner with friends.  while perusing the menu my eyes kept gravitating toward the letters B L T.  it was as if there was a neon sign lighting up the option.  the waitress arrived to take our order and when she turned to me my mind relayed, "portobello burger with sweet potato fries." but my mouth projected, "a BLT on wheat with onion rings, please."  i could have taken it back, if my brain had not then been chanting....  "make that three!  make that three!"

i fell off the bacon bandwagon and became a bacontarian.  but bacon really is a gateway meat.  one minute you're eating a harmless BLT [which let's face it.. is a vegetarian sandwich with a slice of guilt. or three.] and before you know it you're devouring a rack of ribs.  once again i was a full fledged carnivore. but this time it was on my own terms.  and my terms seem to include: 
sneaking pork products into recipes that do not call for ingredients of the pork variety.

"let's have something healthy for dinner tonight."
"ok.  i'll make fish and some fresh vegetables."
[looks down at plate]
"um, shannon...  the fish is wrapped in bacon."
"so?"
"yeah, i think that sort of kills the 'healthy' concept."
"really?"  [does not compute.  does not compute.]

so call me surprised when upon serving my daughter her first strip of bacon she turned her nose up at its salty, crispy, deliciousness.  i actually began to calculate dates and times because i had a fleeting moment of thinking she wasn't my child.  there is NO WAY that someone i passed my DNA to was not going to like bacon.  that would a supreme genetic anomaly.

but before you panic as i did... i recently put bacon on delilah's plate once again.  [because i'm a pusher and i refused to accept that she may not like bacon] low and behold...  she . l . o . v . e . d . it.  "mo bacon, peez. mo bacon peez." perhaps she has finally reached the point of taste bud maturation.

it is now my hypothesis that there is a bacon taste bud.
and out of my 8,000 taste receptors, at least 6,897 of them are bacon buds.  

peeples republic

several years ago i observed three separate incidents of public urination.  not such a huge deal since i'm sure you, too, have relieved yourself behind a car, behind a store front, or behind a bush [using a tree trunk for support].  hell, i wound up covered in poison ivy last year from such an incident.  i drunkenly happily skipped to the edge of a parking lot, in my high heels, where i promptly took a flying dive off the five foot drop into the woods and landed on my face.  classic shannon.

but the happenstances i am reflecting on here were not behind something and they all involved children.  they included:

1) a little boy peeing on the stoop of hi-fi pizza in central square while his mother held the door open waiting for him to finish. 
2) a mother who rushed her daughter out of the car, pulled down her pants on the side of the road and held her up in the air (in a semi-squatting position) while the she pissed on some poor persons flower bed. 
 and the most appalling act (since i know for a fact that there was a bathroom a mere 25 feet away)
3) a little boy on the shady hill campus who pulled down his pants (with his mother's nod of approval) and took a leak on the lawn while his mother chatted with a fellow parent.

and at the time i asked myself...

"what is wrong with these people?" 

i may be a little closer to understanding their frame of mind.  and while i would not encourage delilah to pee where the world can catch a glimpse...  i kinda get the whole discombobulated reasoning behind these events.  [with the exception to number 3.  that's just plain lazy.]  the constant monitoring of your child while potty training is

. e . x . h . a . u . s . t . i . n . g .  

it leaves you in a frame of mind that is slightly akin to the kookiness achieved through sleep deprivation. 

so now my kooky ass is parked on a train heading to new york for one night only.  it may be one night only... but it's two days of not worrying about random urination.  cos i can make it to the bathroom on my own.  usually.

everyone deserves a dream

things i'd like to see more of in this world:

yodeling.  
there's not enough yodeling.  and there's no need for lederhosen.
[or a knackworst remote control]
just the yodeling.

unitards.
seriously?  who doesn't like a good unitard?  i know i do. 

&

ta-dahs.
there should be more people jumping out in front of me yelling "ta-dahhh!" 


seeing more of these things would make me happy. 
or at least turn a totally mundane day into a total spectacle.