My Hair is Better than Yours

Bahama Mama

2011-11-22T19:22:00.001-06:00

It's gray, cold and wet outside. It's hard not to be completely swallowed by the gloom. Please don't read into that as some sort of cryptic cry for help. I was fortunate enough to be on vacation in the Bahamas last week.

I stayed at a yoga ashram and spent my days meditating, stretching and napping.

Hate me now. I'm just rubbing it in your face and feeling sorry for my cold ass.

It was kinda like Eat, Pray, Love. She and I both ate a shit ton of food and did karma yoga.

Except that she did the former in Italy and the latter in India over a 6 month span. I crammed them both into a week.

I DID fart during a couple of the poses, but it wasn't as loud as this other guy.

But it's good to be home. Even if it has to been in layers (and can't even show off my tan! And by tan I mean "no longer sickly pale.")

Madame President

2011-10-24T22:09:00.000-05:00

When I tell people that I was born outside of the United States, about one-third of the people usually point out that I could never be President.

Really? My reckless youth, littered with drugs, alcohol and a short stint in a paegan community, isn't gonna be political fodder? And don't let a little thing, like, void of proper education and experience be a deal breaker. No people. I'm pretty sure my complete LACK of desire to be President is what's gonna keep me from being President of the United States. It's just convenient that I technically can't.

Which leads me to 3 weeks ago. The Orchestra's Board of Directors was up for a vote. 3 of the 6 members had to step down and 3 new members would be voted on. I saw it as my chance to avenge my birth-abroad status. I didn't know at the time when I nominated myself (oh that's right people - I nominated myself. My stand partner, Amber, said she would have herself, but I couldn't contain the excitement) that I was going to be the next President of the Kansas City Kansas Community Orchestra.... but here I am!

Madame President if you please.

President Natasha.

Reverend President Natasha.

Our Fall concert is THIS Thursday (October 27th) @ 7pm. Come and support me and my "dork"estra buddies.

Sabrina snapped this pic at our Spring concert.... and... apparently I play with my mouth open.

The Spanish Inquisition

2011-10-20T21:29:00.000-05:00

Conversation at the coffee shop on Sunday.

Guy: Great Hair.

Me: Thanks!

Guy: You Spanish?

Me: Nope.

Guy: You Sure.

Me: Yup.

I just walked away. Was he insulting my intelligence? My mother's honor? I'm still not sure.

Geography Fale

2011-10-13T21:36:00.000-05:00

Overheard at the QT.

Dumb Girl: "Wait? Where is Australia? By England?"

Holy shit! This girl misplaced an entire CONTINENT!

Dumber Girl: "No. Australia is down."

Holy shit! This girl thinks "down" is a cardinal direction!

Over the Bridge and Through the woods...

2011-10-06T23:05:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday I took Sammy to see Grandma. That same day also happened to be my aunt's birthday, so the convoy included me, my mom, Sammy D and my aunt Stephanie.

Upon our arrival, my grandma was tickled pink that her old boy had come for a visit. "Nelson!" she shouted at her husband, "Look who came for a visit." Glazing over her daughter the birthday girl, my grandma Alice reached for Sammy. "There's my boy!" she exclaimed, squeezing him. "Oh look he remembers me" she said as he tried desperately and vainly to escape her grip.

Something akin, I guess, to a maternal instinct washed over me and I went to loosen her choke hold on Sammy. I could tell that he was confused and a little frightened. I convinced grandma that she should let Sammy explore her room and I sat down on her bed and told her all about how we get on together. I left out the part about me blogging about his tongue.

"Did I ever tell you how he got his name?" she asked me.

"Well, you told me that there wasn't anything else TO name a brown-faced cat with one good eye."

"That's right."

"And also because he's Jewish, right grandma?"

I told her about the yarn and skitter critters I have for him, I shared our nightly petting and snuggle ritual. I even went as far as to proudly brag about the time when Sammy D. Jr punched a dog in the face. She laughed and told me about another time he did the same to a BIG dog at the vet. We bonded over that, I guess.

I've never been close with my Grandma Alice. She's not the nicest lady (and is also a *little* racist) and in her younger days was flat out mean. My mom is hesitant to go into much detail, but I've heard stories of my mom and her siblings being beat so bad they required a trip to the hospital. That the four of her children survived and have any sort of desire to keep a relationship with her is amazing.

And what is more amazing is that in that hard, dark, ex-alcoholic heart of hers she has the capacity to love a living thing.

I mean, LOOK at that face.

Can I Get A Witness???

2011-09-28T21:42:00.000-05:00

I had a scare Monday when I came through the my front door.

I saw a pamphlet had been slipped under my door. I quickly recognized it as a Jesus Flier and was almost afraid to open it; fearing a badly composed and misspelled hate letter from Mic(razy)hael stuffed inside.

Irrational? Yes. But I quickly remembered that Crazy Mike isn't the only over zealous religious nut bug in the world.

Mind my hummus smudges. New favorite: Cilantro & Jalapeno hummus.

I love the expression.

Talk to the hand.

Natashadan

2011-09-26T20:54:00.000-05:00

Happy Natashadan everybody.

WTF? you ask.

Natashadan is the time of year between my birthdays. Spanning 53 days, this time of year potentially could be considered a holy holiday since I am a Reverend. That's right people, it wasn't enough for me to have two birthdays, I went ahead a took a whole section of the calendar. MBirthdayIBTY.

Unlike Ramadan, the tenets of my Birthday Celebration encourage much indulgence and libations. With 43 days left of Natashadan, there is still plenty of time left to celebrate. Here is how I will celebrate, maybe these activities can serve as a springboard of inspiration for your own festivities!

1. Drinking.
Alcohol or caffeinated. Sometimes both at the same time.

2. Gonna eat some good food.
Life is too short to eat crap food.

3. Be Artsy-Craftsy.
It's scarf season, bitches!

4. One last camping trip with Megan, Brooke, Whit & Breko before it gets too cold.
And by camping we mean to stay in a cabin. And drink.

5. Pub Crawl for cancer.
Combining 2 of my favorite things: Drinking and Philanthropy.

6. Have I said drinking?

7. Quality time with loved ones.
Make my parents take me to dinner.

8. VODKA!

9. AND WINE!!!

10. Drunk.

Merry Natashadon!

Well eff.

2011-09-22T21:56:00.001-05:00

I just lost a pretty decent post.

Damn.

Sorry guys. I'll try to re-write it, but I ain't making no promises.

What a fucking way to break the silence.

ps - Jesus, you're still using floppies?

Tuesday Morning

2011-08-10T21:31:00.001-05:00

After getting my passport photo taken at the CVS over my lunch hour, I stopped in at Tuesday Morning. And, may I please state how SHOCKED I was to learn that smiling is no longer accepted for a passport pic. It took EVERY mouth muscle I have to keep a neutral lip when I was looking into the camera. I could feel the corners of my mouth quiver and a spasm of panic every time she took a shot.

I didn't have a specific item, but I knew that if I wandered around the aisles something I had been meaning to buy would appear.

Sure enough, when I came to the next to last aisle (after failing to find my bread pan) I came across the wall of pillows. NEW PILLOWS have been on my list for about a year and I FINALLY remembered at the same time I was in a place to buy pillows. On my way to the register I found my pan. Total effing score. New Pillows AND I'm gonna bake shit.

The Cashier was friendly and perky. "I'm just gonna slip your bread pan between your pillows" almost put me over the edge when she was bagging everything. A big smile and chuckle burst forth. After being forced to be kept straight at the "photo shoot" my smile was working over time.

"My fun pillows?" I half whispered-half asked.

"What was that my dear?"

"Oh, nothing! Thank you!" And out I went with both my new AND naughty pillows.

A Metamorphosis. Less creepy than Kafka's.

2011-08-01T20:54:00.000-05:00

Inner Hippie asked me to walk for her in another fashion show. A total honor, a lot of fun and something I'm just not programmed to say "No" to, I participated in "Fashion on the Fringe." This fashion show is part of the Fringe Festival in Kansas City, an annual venue for local artists "on the fringe."

The show ran this past Friday & Saturday. AND I HAD A BLAST.

The second night the hair dresser was looking for a challenge, I suppose, because she came up to me and said "Let's start straightening your hair."

"All of it?" I asked. Did she know what she was about to start? Last night they had straightened a few sections for 3 Victory Rolls and then smoothed out the top to leave a big, magnanimous POOF of curls at the nape of my neck.

Very Varga, if I do say so myself.

She responded "Yes!" I thought she was crazy and she could see it in my eyes. "Don't worry, I straighten my niece's hair all the time and she's mixed."

So, I gave in.

Besides, I was gonna have to sit in that room for 3 hours regardless if I was in a chair gettin' my hairs did or not.

And it took almost the entire 3 hours. I got up once, maybe 2 hours in to stretch my legs.

But she got it done in time.

And while I really liked the whole look on Friday, it was fun to rock different hair.

Congratulations AGAIN Sharlene! You put on a fabulous show. I love that I am one of your hippies.

Peace, love & Frizz Ease.

Orchestra Melt Down

2011-07-26T21:24:00.001-05:00

The Orchestra has a concert this Thursday. You guys, it's an outdoors concert.

I am going to melt. It already doesn't take much movement on my end to sweat. But throw in a 100 plus degree heat index WHILE I play??? Last week I sat outside for 15 minutes and I sweat through my shirt. Granted, I was sitting in direct sunlight and my shirt was thin BUT if that was just SITTING for 15 minutes I'm terrified to see what happens.

My violin seriously runs the risk of being water damaged.

Hopefully I don't make this sound. Again.

Don't eat at Applebee's

2011-07-22T20:52:00.000-05:00

I make it a rule to not eat at chain restaurants. It probably started sometime after high school. Back then the coolest thing to do on the weekends and THE place to be seen was our neighborhood Applebee's. During college I frequented Chili's quite often. In no way had I escaped the conformity of my high school years. The two eateries have, in essence, the SAME menu, decor personality and even the same effing apostrophe in their name. The only fundamental difference between the two is the soda. Diet Pepsi or Diet Coke.

The only thing to do was to ban the entire lot of 'em.

Chili's: Applebee's with Coke.

The Olive Garden: Applebee's with a bad Italian accent.

On the Border: Applebee's with a sombrero and a side of Guacamole.

Red Robin: Car Hop Applebee's.

Red Lobster: Applebee's by the Sea.

IHOP: Applebee's for breakfast.

54th Street Bar & Grill: Applebee's Single White Female

Joe's Crab Shack: Applebee's with a VD.

Outback Steakhouse: Applebee's on the barbie!

Now go eat something local, fresh and CREATIVE.

They Say It's Your Birthday!

2011-07-19T20:34:00.000-05:00

Today is the birthday of my sister from a different mister.

Happy Birthday Jennie.

Your 29th Year will be your best venture to date.

Crash & Burn.

Mic(razy)hael

2011-07-18T20:09:00.000-05:00

About a month ago I went to the City Market for fresh produce. I got delicious fruits and vegetables and one GIANT nut.

Michael was strumming his guitar, working for tips between the vendors displays. I caught his eye and he started chatting with me. He asked if I would be willing to have a cup of coffee with him. Since he was a little artistic, friendly, not fugly and he assured me that he had a "real" job I agreed.

Spoiler alert: we never went for coffee.

Not too long after that my text box became FULL with messages from him. I told him I kick it old-school and when a gentleman courts me, he should call when he wants to talk. So then my vmail inbox became full with messages. It wasn't long before I knew we weren't going to have the coffee.

Towards the end of what would be our last conversation, I was thinking of ways to break the news that coffee ain't gonna happen. So far in the conversation he had mentioned the scripture and the lord too many times to count and also gave me the run down on his views on abortion. I knew what I had to do.

"Soooooooooooooooooooooooo Michael, what are your thoughts on gay marriage?"

In a NUT-shell, Michael is very much against gay marriage as "those sinners are choosing a life style that is unholy and against God's way."

This didn't surprise me. I broke the news gently "listen, for that and many other reasons, I can tell you that I don't want to go out with you. I'm going with my intuition here." I didn't have the energy or the desire to explain to him that even if he was all for equal human rights I STILL wouldn't want to hang out with him.

Michael lost his shit. First he called me a hypocrite. Then he called me a sinner. Then he called me a racist. He called me some other things too but I stopped paying attention and just wanted to get off the phone.

"Listen, I'm sorry. Good luck with your guitar. Goodbye!"

2 seconds later he called me back. Twice. And then he texts me. ALL of these I ignore. A few days later he left a message that says "we got off on a wrong foot and I'd love to start over again" and offer a casual date to the Sade concert to help heal over any sore spots.

I ignored that too. Most of his calls and his texts (which either berated my character OR asked me to give "us" a second chance) have been treated the same way since our last conversation....... two weeks ago. The time I actually texted back I said "not interested, goodbye."

This morning a co-worker who knows part of the story asked me how my stalker was doing. "Great!" I said. "I haven't heard from him since Friday! (when he called me pre-surgery letting me know that if he died, he was thankful to have met me. Then a post-surgery message to let me know he was OK.)"

I spoke too soon. I checked my phone later in the morning. Fun with Crazy Michael was NOT over. I decided to share instead of deleting them this time. (fun note: I copied the texts verbatim)

10:07am
i just need some answers if possible? I need to know wht i did to turn u off? Also were u ever interested or did u concock a argument to back out?

10:36am
I won't text or call u again but this taught me never to compromise my values, wht u do marrying homosexuals is a abomination cause the same sex cant create life, repent from ur wickedness. The same homosexuals u stnad up for are pervented w unnatural sex acts and backbiting literally. Repent and stop or God will curse u for ur actions. Take care and seek wisdom out of the bible.
10:54am
Part 2 u said u are iranian i know u didnt grow up those values, its a repressed action to get back at ur parents. They taught u better i know not to follow the western wickedness such as anything goes as long as it feels good. You have been corrupted and i know ur patriarchs would turn over in their graves if they knew u did such things. Be a woman and keep integrity and don't let babylon destroy ur soul. Salam.

I was nearly tempted to respond this time.

Dad 2.0

2011-07-17T13:01:00.000-05:00

My dad threw in the towel earlier this year and bought a personal computer. Not quite convinced of the trustworthiness of a laptop, he decided to purchase a desktop. It seemed more of a solid choice. Whether it was that way because the Desktop is heavier and that in and of itself is, literally, a more solid choice or rather, if it is because the Desktop has been around longer and therefore must have some sort of upstanding reputation and honored history that the Laptop lacks, hence, it is a more reliable choice.

Either way, my dad was convicted in his belief/decision. I knew not to argue/reason with him and saw the miracle that had occurred: my dad stepped into the 21st century. For years he's had one foot through the door just by virtue of being alive in the developed world right now. It wasn't until recently that he's been convinced that technology might not be such a fleeting and useless thing after all.

FOR EXAMPLE... About 2 years ago he asks me (and please don't forget to use your "old-Iranian man" accent when reading this) "Have you heard of dis 'google?'" and his eyes got all squinty and consternated when he said the g-word, as if he wasn't sure if he was saying it right and I would have NO idea of what he's talking about. "You just type in the word and it brings EVERYTHING back?!? Be-junah-to (Farsi for "I shit you not")" About 2-3 month later he tells me that he used the Internet to send my sister a floral arrangement. Up until this point any e-commerce my father had ever done had been done by proxy. My dad would ask someone else to book his airline tickets (the end of the travel-agent era was a real hard time for my him) or purchase any of his other online shopping - which was very little. I was so proud of my father.

I went with him to help pick out his new monitor, keyboard & mouse. The "help" was me just reassuring him that all the equipment he needed was very standard and very basic. He didn't need anything fancy and I would just recommend two basic ones and then he'd pick out which one he wanted. The only thing that boggled his mind was the wireless mouse. "What do you mean dere is no cord?" I told him that wireless was a perfectly good option but if he wanted one with chord, that perfectly fine too.

After check out and loading up the car, I totally wiped which model of mouse my father had bought.

Until last week. "Tasha, honey, my mouse isn't verking!"

"Is there a light on? On the bottom?"

"I don't see any light."

He had called on a random week night, I would need to trouble shoot remotely. "Ok, check if it's plugged in. Follow the chord back to the computer and unplug and replug it."

"DERE IS NO CHORD! I bought de vireless mouse!" (Are you guys still using your old Iranian-man accent???)

"Oh, well in that case, just change the batteries."

That was it. Then he called me his genius daughter and asked if I was coming for dinner on Sunday.

Next I am going to get my mom to use an ATM.

Cabbage Fest 2011

2011-07-06T18:56:00.000-05:00

On my last trip to the Farmers Market, I bought a big head of cabbage. I didn't know at the time that I getting myself into a week's worth of cabbage, and maybe if I had I would have, scared by the idea, put it back, but since I was ignorant - I bought it.

Yesterday I searched for "cabbage" on my favorite recipe spot and found one that I wanted to try.

http://vegetarian.about.com/od/soupssalads/r/curriedcabage.htm

It was super easy and COOL. Perfect for a hot evening's dinner. I didn't add the coconut flakes (allergic unfortunately because I love me some macaroons and almond joys) and I generously doubled the amount of the spices. Afterwards I decided to add chopped almonds and carrots. Good Call if I do say so myself.

But I still had half of the head left.

Second to BBQ, I miss Chinese food since becoming vegetarian. Sure there are a handful of dishes that I can eat, but.. it isn't the same. So, tonight's dinner, was a stir fry. It is definitely my favorite between the two (not to discount the Raw Salad at all!)

http://vegetarian.about.com/od/maindishentreerecipes/r/CabbageStirFry.htm

I made it exactly as directed (I went with Balsamic Vinegar, for the record). For all my Meaties out there, adding chicken or shrimp would be easy.

And you know what you guys.... I still have about a fourth of that GIGANTIC cabbage left. It didn't seem THAT big when I bought it. And it isn't like I made one serving of each recipe. I've got leftovers for DAYS.

With all this cabbage intake - I'm a little scared for what I'm in store for over the next few days.

We went to the zoo

2011-07-02T21:25:00.001-05:00

My sister and her family came into town last week. It was the Nef's first birthday and it was going to be celebrated Big-Fat-Iranian style. The day after the party, a dozen of us planned to go to the zoo.

I love the zoo.

But I knew the whole fiasco was doomed before it started so I did the only thing I could do: herd.

I knew it was going to be an unorganized cluster fuck of people, with members of the group ranging from 1 year to 69 and from with multiple languages being spoken (and not everyone knows both), I knew my job was to keep the pack of people moving. Maybe not "together" but I just had to make sure that the 11 other members of my family just kept making progress towards the end of the Africa exhibit.

Oh and it was hot. We got an early enough start that it wasn't gross the whole time, but NO ONE was fresh as daisy by the time we ended our 3 hour adventure. Towards the end, I Irealized I could re-produce the "honk" of the geese with a startling accuracy. I began talking back to a really big one and before I knew it a small gaggle began to waddle towards me with a curious-goose expression. Luckily I was able to move the humans on before I found out if I was threatening or flirting with the flock.

But we all made it out alive.

But maybe not in the best health. Later that night I began to get the tell-tale signs of a pretty nasty cold. I'm not positive, but my immediate guilt-dagger was shot at my just turned a YEAR old nephew. I was certain my cold-of-doom was brought on by the runny nose he had been sportin all weekend.

This is my first full day of feeling human again. Thanks to a lot of napping, juice and a z-pak, I can be upright and mobile. Much more dreaded than the bird-flu or the west nile virus, I should have taken precautions not to catch the Derka-Derka flu on my family outing.

Cat got your tongue?

2011-06-29T21:13:00.000-05:00

Sammy's missing a few teeth. My best guess is the he lost them when he was in his accident. He's able to eat OK, but every now and again I'll catch him with his tongue hanging out. It's my most favorite thing in the whole wide world. And now I will share them with you. Enjoy!

Two Things

2011-06-23T22:18:00.001-05:00

1. If the local SunFresh has any sort of rewards program for returning stolen shopping carts, I need to find out. I passed no less than 3 on my bike ride through the neighborhood this evening. Or I guess the next time I walk to the grocery store, I can just try to find one and push it back? I'd be guaranteed a cart this way. Totally avoiding the awkward moment when you've walked thru the automatic doors to find no carts and you try to guesstimate if your weeks worth of groceries could fit in one of those carry-baskets.

2. Ok, I know that I need to drop this Reverend thing like a bad habit (pun intended), but... last Saturday at our "When I dip, You Dip, WE Dip" Dip party, Jennie Rea told me that a friend of hers was at Wes & Laura's wedding! Jenni was clicking through her friend's pictures and couldn't believe her eyes! "What a small world!!!" she exclaimed when she saw me and shared the story.

Then tonight we were practicing and Amber, my stand partner in Orchestra, told me a friend of hers was at the wedding and recognized me!

Either the world is getting smaller or my hair is getting bigger. I'm not sure.

WERK it GURL

2011-06-21T20:47:00.000-05:00

I participated in the "Don't Tripp, it's Fashion" runway/design competition last weekend. I walked for designer Sharlene Henthorne. She is the fabulous lady behind Inner Hipper designs. And if you hear Hippie and automaticlaly think Tye Dye and afros, you'd be spot on. I mean, what else is there? besides hairy lady arm pits and patchouli?

Look how big my hair was you guys.

People would run into it backstage. I swear.

Blue Steel, baby.

The whole experience was exhausting and a whole lotta fun. Sharlene placed second in the design category. WAY TO GO SHARLENE!!!!!

I really like her stuff.

All the other girls got their hair curled, cripmed, teased and a few even got extensions. The stylist just brushed mine out. But then again, my hair is better than theirs.

Won't you be my neighbor?

2011-06-14T21:00:00.000-05:00

When Wes & Laura moved last summer I was totally bummed. The three of us got on great. But I knew that no matter what, I would always have a friend in them. It didn't really hit me that they were gone until the new neighbors moved in.

When I moved into my new (current) place last fall I was falling asleep, my first night there, when my phone rang and it was Laura! She said that her and Wes were in the neighborhood and almost stopped by.... which would have been awkward seeing how I had just moved out of the old house.

Anyway, in honor of them I wanted to document my top 5 Wes & Laura moments.
In no particular order

1. Halloween 2009. I, dressed as Slash from Guns and Roses, (s)tumbled out of the back of an Ford Escort Station wagon... sloppy drunk. I couldn't find my keys, let alone my front door. It probably would have helped if I had taken off my aviators, but that would have just taken away from the entire look. My friends were about to get out of the car to help me when Laura comes down from her Porch to help a sister out.

"Alright Slash, .... Here let me unlock your door for you." And the sweet creature that is Laura made sure I got safely inside.

2. Laura and I staying up until 4am once listening to music and just bonding. That was a great night.
3. Not too long after I had moved in, I came home one night and they were on their way out. "MY WATER BROKE!!!" Laura exclaimed!

4. Impromptu Porch Party. Wes, Laura and I - along with another Neighbor, Hot Van, were hanging out on their porch (have you guys noticed a theme here???) and Kristen, a friend who lives a few blocks away saw my hair from her Cab and had them stop.

5. I slide out of the taxi cab, W&L are on their porch. They offer me a drink, but I just want a water. I had left the Bar for a reason - I didn't need ANY more alcohol. Wes hands me a water and about 10 minutes later I make my way to the edge of their front lawn, right off the sidewalk. I straddle the pavement and bend over. They ask if I'm OK and I flash the universal sign of "I'm GREAT!" which is the rock fist while I release about 30 ounces of vodka & tonic into their front lawn.

"Oh man, I'm really sorry about that."

"No worries Rev. That was AWESOME."

Reverend MHIBTY

2011-06-12T21:45:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I had the honor to officiate the wedding of two people very dear to me. I met Wes & Laura a little more than 2 years ago. It was around the time of my first wedding and Wes instantly took to calling me by my Internet-Given title "Reverend."

We were next door neighbors. Many Friday and Saturday nights were spent maxing and relaxing on one another's porch. Before long a genuine affection formed and when they set a date for their wedding, The Good Reverend next door was on the short list of possible officiants.

I won out by default only. My competition for the job was his cousin, who is a Catholic Priest. Wes and Laura knew that they were not having a catholic wedding, and, in fact wanted it outside. The Good Father can only preform ceremonies in his church, while the Good Reverend can go ANYWHERE. Seriously. The second ceremony I performed took place in a bar.

Where? you ask.

Yes. A bar. It was the bar Brooke and Rob had their very first kiss. Brooke wanted a tiny ceremony. And with no fuss. So, after work on a Friday in January of 2010, 5 of us gathered in Whitney & Liz's apartment to do makeup and then walk the 2 blocks to the bar. We sang " We're going to Gilhouly's and we're gonna get married" on the way.

When we got there I had a quick chat with the Bride & Groom, and then we dove right in to the 3 minute ceremony in the back booth, right by the pool tables. I was more nervous than they were, for some reason my voice was shaky and almost cried no less than once. By the end we had caught the attention of most of the other patrons at the bar and the owner sent over a bottle of champagne. And since we were already at the reception hall, as it were, we dove right into the celebrating.

All the weddings I've officiant have been beautiful, meaningful and wonderful. Congratulations to ALL my happy couples, whether your wedding was yesterday... or 16 months ago!

Peanut Butter Chocolate? Good! Pie? Not so much...

2011-06-07T22:04:00.000-05:00

So I grabbed a bag of semi-sweet chocolate morsels and dusted (dumped) them on top of the pies in the hope I could salvage them. I didn't spend close to $15 in ingredients and an hour of woman-power NOT try to hock them off on some starving soul at. There had to be SOMEONE jonsing for an afternoon dessert.

A majority of the people I offered pie to gobbled it right up and, mostly, said really positive things like "YUM!" "Delicious" and "Not bad."

I couldn't help but feel that I was living the episode of Friends (as Rachel) the time Rachel made English Trifle for Thanksgiving. Y'know - with a layer of sauteed beef with onions sandwiched between her layers of lady fingers with jam? Everyone ate it in front of my face to be nice, but the second they left my cube they were hocking the mess of a pie into the closest trash bin, filing cabinet or recycle receptacle.

But I did end up having a piece. It really was not bad! The chocolate morsels saved it. This fiasco reminded me of the time my older sister was charged to make dessert one Saturday. She was about, eh, 14. Maybe? Company was coming over and she was to make a pudding pie. The crust was store bought and all she had to do was whip together the pudding, dump it into the crust, affix a mound of cool whip on top and stick that bad boy into the fridge to set.

She set out and the 3rd thing she did was knock the pie crust off the counter, shattering the graham cracker crust into the individual crumbs that it was comprised of. Quick on her feet, she called around and found someone with a recipe for an easy pie crust (and one she had all the ingredients for). Soon she had the pudding and cool whip in there and her pie went into the fridge. Shortly there after, the friend called with a very important detail. She forgot to tell tell my sister that she had to bake the crust. WHY this instruction never came up during the initial recipe giving, I'm not sure.

So she took the pie, pudding and all, and stuck it in the oven at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes. I don't think I need to describe to you what that did to the cool whip and pudding. I can tell, however, that my pies were definitely edible while her pie was not not.

Thanks sis for fucking up your pudding pie 18 years ago so that I could feel better about my tofu one today. Can't wait to see you. TWO WEEKS!!!!!

NOT as easy as pie

2011-06-06T22:31:00.000-05:00

I made a kick ass pie on Memorial Day. A peanut butter chocolate silken goddess of a pie. It took about 3 minutes to assemble and an hour to set in the fridge. It was glorious and everyone liked it at the BBQ.

High on Pie Success I told myself I'd make a double batch to bring into work. I wanted to share a treat with my team after our noon meeting. Who doesn't like chocolate peanut butter pie?

I can't pinpoint the exact moment, tonight, when it all started to go to shit, but I think one of the first things I did wrong was to add the melted chocolate to the blender first. By the time I finished adding the other ingredients, the chocolate was no longer smooth and a vision of delicious, but rather a bit more re-solid. When the blender failed to blend after a minute on "high" I knew something was terribly terribly wrong.

It also, probably, didn't help that I was making a double batch in a standard size blender. My measurement to check if a double batch would fit in my hand-me-down blender was "I think when I made it last week, it was about half way full.... soooo... yeah, a double should fit."

Fail.

There is a third, fourth and, if I analyzed the whole catastrophe in depth enough, fifth reason why my pie wasn't easy as pie tonight. I was determined, though. I have two what-look-like-chocolate-peanut-butter pies setting in my fridge ready to share with my team tomorrow around noon time. For reasons I can't get into (because I'm too effing tired after battling the pie... and it's past my bed time) It tastes very little like chocolate and a lot like peanut butter. And tofu.

Oh yeah, it's a tofu pie. That's right a FUCKING SOY BEAN BY PRODUCT kicked my ass tonight. Fuck you tofu.

So my plan is to buy some Hershey's Chocolate syrup and drizzle it over the pie before I serve it. If no one on my teams eats it, I won't and can't blame them.

I'm sure the Developers will eat it.

Congrats Dad!

2011-06-05T22:04:00.000-05:00

Little known fact. My parents are pool sharks.

Ok, not really. But they play billiards and from time to time their league does well and they advance to some tournament. This time they've hit the big time. My dad and his pool league will be headed to Las Vegas later this summer for the some National Tournament... thing.

Good Luck Dad! Even if you don't win, the important thing is to try your best and to be a good sport. Maybe after wards we can all go for ice cream?

Excuse me!

2011-06-02T17:09:00.000-05:00

Hey you guys. Remember me? I'm the one with really awesome hair?

Do you like my hooter?

Ok, so I think I'm ready to get fully back into this thing I call MHIBTY and it's pretty good timing because I just HAVE to share this with you.

So, my back/neck have been giving me grief for several days now and I made an appointment to see a massage therapist today. We were about, oh - I dunno - 20 minutes in when she went to get more lotion and the lotion container made THAT noise. I immediately giggled like a little school girl and felt a wave of relief that I wasn't the one in the room to "pass air." Or at least not the one to pass gas first. I can not be held accountable for any farting/snoring noises that may or may not have happened. There were 10 minutes where I fell asleep and I wasn't sure what bodily sounds I might have admitted. I was thankful, at least, that I was face down because my drool was pretty impressive/embarrassing.

This next weekend is going to be a busy one. I'm playing the role of Reverend on Saturday, then on Sunday I'm pretending to be a super model and will be walking down the runway for a local designer; Inner Hippie. Hopefully I will NOT trip walking down EITHER aisle.

More Bad News...

2011-05-10T20:24:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I opened my mouth too soon. It turns out that things could be worse than last week. If people keep dying at this rate I will have to invest in bulk tissue you guys. I have to take a slight time out from MHIBTY, which, I kinda started already if you hadn't noticed.

And please, for the love of god, GO HUG ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY MEMBERS. Now.

A better pic...

2011-05-05T07:41:00.000-05:00

I snagged a better picture for you guys, well, because it's just so gosh darn cute.

Hey, anyone know if a cat can OD on catnip? I bought some for Sammy (as a bribe to stop eating my plants) and I think I gave him WAAAAY too much. He was acting totally spastic and completely out of character... plus he INSISTED that I go him funyuns and a Gatorade. Weird.

Two North

2011-05-02T20:47:00.001-05:00

Last week was a doozy. Every single UN-fun emotion that there is be felt.... I felt it. Twice. Going down and then coming back up again, one could say. The only thing I can do is just hug everyone. Thankfully I haven't yet succumbed to hugging strangers.

But that's all I have to say about that.

Since it was, and still is to a degree, sad panda times, I turned to my handy glue gun to help get me out of the blues. I used to eat my way through all of my emotions. Now I just hot glue something to them.

I don't have an apartment number decal/sign/sticker. Neither do my across-the-hall neighbors. This really confuses the Jimmy John's guy. The same day that I found my old violin song book, I also found a decorative letter N. A wood cut out, colorfully painted in circles and dots. My friend Becky had attached it to a present she gave me last year. My neighbor's number is "2N" and saw this as a happy little convergence of re-use possibilities, buttons and a hot glue gun.

So I made a little plaque to hang on their door and I marched across the hallway, my heart filled with joy and other creative juices. As I knocked I was suddenly seized with the fear that they might not LIKE what I had made them. I had made an arts and craft project for them that ranks slightly above "macaroni art." And it was in primary colors and circles to boot.

My neighbors welcome mat is gray with black silhouettes of leaf-less trees, which suggests the "welcome" you are getting might be a little grim. And Haunted. Also, they have handprint decals on their front windows. They're red. And are "dripping/running."

As she opened her door, I lost faith in my buttons. I had realized, too late, that everyone might not like my buttons hot glued to shit as much as I do. I tried to be all nonchalant about this random home made present, insisting that it was just something I can't help... a sickness. She was concerned that I had spent money on the supplies.

"Oh no, I didn't buy anything. Doesn't everyone have a box of random crafty-items?"

She said that she did as well and thanked me. I checked later that day and it hadn't been hung. I ALMOST knocked and apologized for the silly thing and wanted to explain that I was just REALLY sad and making and then sharing the sign had made me feel better... and to please forgive me and don't tell the landlord that I'm weird.

I came home today...

Thanks N&M!

She's Crafty!

2011-04-29T08:02:00.000-05:00

I got this knit top at a clothing swap a few months ago. It's super soft. There was a TEENY tiny hole in it at the time and I told myself that I would mend it

After going through one wash cycle, 6 LARGE holes appeared (thanks to the attached bejeweled necklace).

In the past I've thrown away clothes that have holes or stains. I decided this time to try my hand at "reusing" the shirt and fix it by creating something new. So I pulled out my craft box.

The shirt is just a plain ivory, a blank pallet. I went with peaches and browns, stuff I already had on hand (double bonus that this project didn't require me to buy anything!).

Oh yeah, and I took of the neck piece. Hole making b@stard.

I then cut out varies size circles of my fabric. I used a coaster, a cup and a container of lotion to trace around. I cut out about 15, but I didn't use all of them.

I then hand stitched them in a pseudo random pattern, first making sure the holes were covered and then going back and balancing the entire look.

OF COURSE I had to add buttons.

The back. Two holes there too.

Completely original new shirt!

Deja Violin

2011-04-27T22:32:00.001-05:00

Somehow, someway my parents were able to provide me with a private tutor during most of the years I played the violin. I'm sure bartering or some sort of work-trade was involved to cover tuition, just like it was with ballet classes (mom sewing countless costumes) and karate lessons (dad remodeling the dojo). Regardless, I spent many an hour in Mrs. Nigro's basement studio of her home in Raytown, Missouri. It was a pity I never practiced, I could see it on her face most weeks.

Anyway, I came across one of the last books I did with her in the beginning of 1998 a few days ago. This was the last few months I played before quitting. She was annoyed that I had decided to quit Orchestra at the end of the school year. I lied to her and told her I'd try to play on my own and keep it up.

As I flipped through this book on Sunday I realized that almost all of the songs, pieces I had mastered (and I use the word loosely here) back in freshman year, I have been working on for the past several months. I was repeating my catalog of work and hadn't even realized it.

Mrs. Nigro's scribbles cover the same areas that I have trouble with today. It's kinda like the ghost of Violin Teachers Past reminding me of my trouble areas and to REACH to hit that high B on the E string.

Thanks Mrs. Nigro.

If I know you in real life and you're able to make it to my concert on Thursday... you're coming right???

Grandma ran over the Reindeer

2011-04-25T19:48:00.011-05:00

My grandmother Alice (Sammy's mom) had a motorized wheelchair.

Fortunately she is capable of being mobile without the Rascal. For a while she used it as her main mode of transportation, after her drivers license was taken away, mainly to visit her husband in the Nursing Home. My mom asked and pleaded with her not to, but Grandma is stubborn like that. Mom's only choice was to get a couple of brightly colored flags and a sign that read "Wide Load" to attach to the chair.

Now that Grandma is with Nelson in the nursing home, she no longer needs to trek a few miles on back roads to see him. We thought that the Scooter Saga was over.

I learned this weekend that the chair had been taken away from her by the Nursing Home staff and she won't get it back until she's successfully completed an "Appropriate Behavior" course, learning what is and isn't acceptable to do with the Hoover-Round.

I'm just speculating here, but based on what I know about my Grandma this is what I think the course would look like:

8AM
Keeping all 4 wheels on the ground: A guide to basic motorized chair etiquette.

10AM
Break for the Price is Right

11AM
The Hallway is not a Race Track

Lunch

1PM
How to Avoid Crushing Others' Feet and Toes

3PM
WE KNOW YOU SAW HER! DO NOT RUN OVER THE NURSE!!!

I'm certain that she'll get her chair back but it will only be a matter of time before it's confiscated again and she has to go through the advanced course OR they remove the standard battery and replace it with a a dozen AA batteries so that her top speed is somewhere between "snail" and "turtle" giving her would-be victims ample time to move or get out of the way.

a creepy "Secret Garden"

2011-04-24T12:16:00.011-05:00

Whitney asked if I would spend an afternoon with her taking pictures. I'm a big fan of her work AND she was going to do my makeup. It was a no brainer. She had a vision; I was instructed to show up at her place with black shoes, black patteren tights and black bra with my foundation, eyebrows and hair done. She was going to do everything else.

I knew the pictures were going to be great. Yet, I was still blown away when I saw them. Whitney is totally bad ass and I'm very lucky to know her. I even more lucky that I get to share some of the pics here.

I discovered this overgrown little garden in the West Plaza area of KC a few years ago and knew it would be perfect for a creepy "Secret Garden" kind of shoot. It was, sadly, cleared out a bit since last summer, but still had a wonderfully weird quality I loved. We also did a few shots in the basement of my vintage building and my favorite shot was actually taken in a claw foot bathtub in my apartment! I just wanted to create some photos that I like to look at: a bit cold, interesting, and maybe a touch haunting. Hopefully, others like to look at them as well!
-Whitney Smith

My Funny Valentine

2011-04-21T21:39:00.007-05:00

I have a big gigantic crush on Frank Sinatra. I'm not sure when it happened. Somewhere between signing up for my Wheel Watcher Spin! I.D. and learning to crochet, I developed a deep love and admiration for him. Dean Martin too. It just feels right.

For the love of the Rat Pack!!! I agreed to take Sammy Davis Jr in LARGELY because of his name. I thought that having a cat named after Frank & Dean's buddy would somehow channel their spirit into my life. And I haven't been disappointed there - just for the record.

If someone out there wants to send me a print of this...

...I'd love you for it. And I would maybe even do something nice for you in return.

But in the mean time I can be satisfied with my very own member of the rat pack. Here's looking at you, kid!

This Day in History...

2011-04-20T18:13:00.015-05:00

Many terrible, awful, horrible events are marked today. Adolf Hitler was born in 1889. More recently and closer to home, today is the 12th anniversary of the Columbine school shooting and also it has been one year to the day of the BP Gulf Oil disaster. All of that could lead a girl to have a drink or two today. Or smoke... since today is THAT day too (a "holiday" invented by community college students. Or Incubus fans. But that might be redundant).

To balance the bleak cloud (or smoke cloud) that hangs over April 20th, God did us a favor in 1979 and ushered my sister into the world. A gamma ray of sunshine was born unto us so that in 32 years time I could focus on her and how much I love her and not on the images of adorable sea life and beautiful landscape being destroyed.

Happy Birthday Nily!

When I was 4, my sister's 8th birthday party was a first in the derka- derka household. It was a slumber party and of course I was sternly instructed to not bother her and her friends. And of course I didn't that think this was fair. No amount of whining moved my parents on the subject.

Resigned to my fate, I spent the majority of the party tucked away in the hallway; tempted by their sophisticated giggles I, willed them to ask me to come hang out with them. I would peak my head around the corner, testing the line of how visible I could make myself before Nily would tell me to scram, or worse, tell mom.

I had retreated, once again, back into the shadows and begged the universe to have one of the other girls call out my name to join them. If one of her friends wanted me to join the party, I was guaranteed some direct face time with them.

I got my wish after presents were opened.My sister was the proud new owner of a pastel purple crimper. The hair styling tool of the 80's, the crimper did exactly that - it "crimped" your hair. With technology similar to a waffle maker, girls could add fun texture, volume and style to their hair with-out chemicals or harsh smells. The 100+ degree tool was completely safe for 8 year olds to operate by themselves.

Texture, volume and style were three things my hair did not need more of. In fact, if there was a de-crimper that is what I needed (I later learned they do make these, they're called "flat irons"). When I heard one of the girls proclaim "we should totally crimp your little sister's hair!!!" my heart rang out with unadulterated joy and happiness.

They wanted me.

As I proceeded into the living room, it became clear that they had already crimped their own hair and now wanted a doll to play with that didn’t melt under the intense heat. Didn't make a lick of difference to me. All I cared was that I was now included in the fun and all eyes were on me.

I took my rightful place - in the middle. With the girls in a circle around me, the crimping began. They took turns sectioning off my massive amount of hair and holding it between the two hot wrinkled plates.

"Oh man, that's totally radical" one of them exclaimed, as my hair began to grow, which I knew to mean only good things; My self-worth was validated.

I sat through the tugs, pulls and burns, determined to be a good doll for them. I didn't want the fun to end. I wasn't sure if I would be dismissed when they were done or, like I hoped, if I could stick around, having earned my slumber party badge of acceptance. I hoped they’d let me stay since I had clearly survived the hazing.

This is where my memory of my sister’s 8th birthday becomes foggy, mainly because I remember being really happy. Happy I was hanging out with my sister and all her super cool, super chic and super crimped friends.

I love you, sis!

ps - who is rocking the SH!T out of those aerobic pandas? You bet your ass my mom made that.

April Showers bring May.... babies

2011-04-18T17:41:00.004-05:00

Baby showers rank right up there with "cavity fillings" or "lady exams" in terms of most least favorite things to do. Usually I'll do the dutiful thing; RSVP, buy something off the registry and show up and play bad baby/mommy themed games. OR tell you I can't make it because I have a dentist appointment that day.

This past Sunday was Kristen's baby shower, and while my lack of enthusiasm for the shower shouldn't reflect my opinion of her (or her unborn child), it should go without saying that I wasn't really looking forward to the event. But several things transpired over the coarse of the afternoon to make it all very memorable.

1. Flattened squirrel on the curb. I refused to go over it I realized the car behind me was waiting for me to pull up so that they could park behind me.

2. Jalapeno Artichoke dip.

3. The mom-to-be's best friend spilt Sangria all over the WHITE carpet.

4. Better than most baby shower games. I won "Pin the Sperm on the Egg."

5. The mom-to-be's step mother spilt her rum and coke IN THE SAME spot. People were cut off after this point.

6. Me and every other non-mom took an (imaginary) shot when we heard the word "nipple." We were (imaginary) WASTED.

I do wish Kristen & Chris all the best in the world! Your baby will be beautiful.

She puts the "my" in ShaNatAmy

2011-04-13T19:10:00.008-05:00

While technically she puts the "Amy" in our collective nickname (For Shannan, Natasha & Amy), I DO think of her as "my" Amy. I loves her the very very most most. She's like RULLY RULLY cool and I totally want to be her when I grow up.

Today she did something AWESOME and I'm super proud (and inspired/awe/amazed too) of her. Unfortunately I can't share the details of it just yet. I know... I'm such a tease. But that's just a hint to HOW FRIGGIN' awesome what she did today WAS!!!

I haven't forgotten, either, that I still owe you a story that involves North Carolina and, in some abstract way, Anderson Cooper. The time is close upon us when I can share that. In a delectable teaser, I can tell you that I've been asked by the producers to not talk about it until it airs.

What could it be??? Knowing me, so many things... but I'm pretty sure you're all wrong.

But back to My Amy.

She's Awesome.

And I just wanted to document for posterity that I love her and her big heart. She's made me run marathons (actually just one half of one.... but still... have YOU run a half marathon?), she's encouraged bathroom picture taking (no, not like that) and turned me on to the best sheets in the world.

I love you Amy.

ps - Shannan - ditto.

More Bathroom Humor (Horror?)

2011-04-10T20:28:00.009-05:00

"If it's yellow, let it mellow. It it's brown, flush it down." I live by this mantra. If it's just a little tinkle I save water AND indulge in the lazy side of my personality and wait to flush until the next time. I recently polled others (my friends) on what their "number" is. Consensus was a single flush for every 2.4 pee pee trip. Factors between 2 and 3 were the saturation of the color and/or the amount of TP.

For a while this "way of the throne" was a godsend. My toilet handle broke the morning after I moved into my apartment and I had to figure out how to flush my big ole "toilet christening" without a handle. I didn't know what do to or if I should call any body, and if so... WHO??? My landlord? My Dad? A priest... because LORD that thing was a beast in and off itself. Being vegetarian not only has made me a more "regular" lady, but also... more of a "solid" one... if you know what I mean.

I after I flushed by way of direct access into the tank, I immediately called the landlord. Over the next 5 months I'd have the handy man over two additional times to deal with a janky handle. Since I had my yellow/brown rule, I didn't always have to deal with jiggling the HELL out of that sonofabitch to flush. But now with the luxury of a working toilet handle I am able to decide whether to flush for fun or not.

Last week, after starting my shower but before getting IN it I suddenly realized that my digestive track was moving A LOT faster than I was. So I went poop. And then I came to an impasse. Should I flush and wait 5 minutes while my shower re-heats? Or do I remember to flush after my shower? Only on rare occasion am I running "on time" in the morning, let alone with a 5 minute cushion, I had to flush after I showered.

I remembered to Flush after my shower. Only it was 45 minutes and 11 miles after my shower that I remembered to flush. I sat at the light, after the flash of remembrance, and imagined how embarrassing it would be if I died today. Whoever went to my apartment to clean it out would be surprised by the kind of cleaning they had unwittingly signed up for. By the time I got home that night, I had completely forgotten, AGAIN, that there was a flushable in the crapper. Gross.

New Mantra. When it's Brown, flush it down. Even if the shower is running. Because, Ew...

Drummer Boy

2011-04-08T21:02:00.005-05:00

Not to brag or sound "show-off-y" or anything..... but..... a pretty cool thing happened with the Orchestra this season. We got a new drummer. I'm pretty stoked when ANYONE joins the group and am even further enthused when they stick around, which he has. And he's good to boot! More importantly he's always at rehearsal. Probably because he never gets stuck in Traffic...BECAUSE He's the one of the Traffic Guys for WDAF Fox 4!!!

Oh that's right. The Kansas City Symphony (you know... THOSE guys... the ones that are professional and get paid....) can have Byran Busby. I don't want to start a local network newsman battle here on MHIBTY. For those not in the area, The Chief Meteorologist at a competing station plays the tymphony drums for the KC Symphony

Don't get me wrong. I love Bryan Busby. I know more about this local weatherman than I do some of my own cousins. He has been a fixture in all-things-weather for me since before I can remember. He's a lovable guy and I'm pretty sure his Teddy Bear charm comes naturally to him. One day while on one of our Friday Lunch Dates, Sabrina received a text from her husband (who is a chef) "I just made lunch for Bryan Busby!" That's pretty awesome in my book. For as much as I love the big BB, I'm loving Bill Hurrelbrink.

I mean...He wore a vest to our concert tonight.

Good Face

2011-04-06T21:01:00.009-05:00

Poor Sammy Davis Jr. Either he is getting on my nerves OR I've just been more irritable than normal, I'm not sure, but I've been short with him lately. He was a good snuggle buddy in the winter, but, now that the nights are warming I don't need him cozying into my side and camping out there. I'm too young for night sweats.

He and I haven't been together very long, just since this past September have he and I been roomies. I forget that sometimes. There are time when it feels he and I have been together for over 20 years. Not only because he is close to being just that old, but also because he looks 98% like the cat my family had when I was growing up. A big old Siamese named Limburg... a gift to my brother Daniel from (you guessed it) my Grandma.

This cat came along in the late 80's and was sent to the big farm in the sky a few years ago. Limburg was a solitary and moody old cantankerous cat and didn't care much for "snuggling" and "not biting" you. This cat ATE MY PET BIRD when I was 10. I didn't much care for the guy.

So, when I have a bad day and come home to an apartment covered in cat hair and a smelly litter box that needs to be scooped and the culprit is kinda like your stinky uncle; a guy that needs to crash on your couch for a while (until he kicks it) because his old-lady (your grandma) won't pay his rent no more.... and he looks JUST like the asshole that devoured my most beloved pet, Miss Corrie, in the whole entire world (a pain I might not fully be over)?!?!?!?!

I don't want to see his face.

But then I see his face. And I can't help but fall for the old mangled-faced guy. Maybe that's what Limburg didn't have going for him. He needed to get hit by a car and have a fat lip with crooked face for me to love him. And the very least I'd have felt some vindication for Miss Corrie.

It's a Car!

2011-03-30T19:16:00.016-05:00

About 4 years ago I rear-ended a Toyota Sienna and totaled my car. I wish I could say that there were circumstances beyond my control that caused the accident but the truth of the matter was that I had looked over my shoulder to change lanes and by the time I looked back the car in front of me had stopped. There wasn't enough pavement for me to brake, though I did try, and I crashed into the mini van.

This has been my only accident (knock on wood) if we don't count all the "learning bumps" I had in The Van. Y'know... like the time you learn how close you can get to the gas pump without rubbing/scrapping up against the yellow cement pillar (the one that protects the ACTUAL pump). Or when you learn that when backing out of a long driveway with a chain link fence on one side you should make sure your side view mirror doesn't snag the fence and pull part of it with you. OR the time you learn that you shouldn't drive on a flat tire.... even if you ARE driving to the tire store... Thankfully I learned all these lessons early.

Anyhoozle, so I'm sitting in my smashed Dodge Neon with tears streaming down my face. This car had been a high school graduation gift and soon I would have to face the reality of a car payment. Later that day, after looking at too many mid-size sedans to count, I was signing the paper work for my new (to me) car. The following day I set up an automatic payment plan through my bank on the 16th of every month for $298.97.

Well cats and kitten... I HAVE PAID OFF MY CAR! As of two week ago I sent in the balance of the loan and am no longer beholden to The Bank. While my peers and contemporaries buy houses, get married and have kids I can prove that I am KIND OF an adult as I proudly show off my car title.

Natasha - you're almost 30, but you're still renting?!?!
That's OK. I own my car.

Natasha - you haven't been in a serious romantic relationship since 2007?!?!
It's OK. NO MORE CAR PAYMENTS!

Natasha - tick tock, your eggs aren't getting any younger.
Go fuck yourself.

A co-worker suggested that I get my car waxed and detailed in celebration of this momentous occasion and I dare say that it's a grand idea. I'm also thinking about registering for some car accessories and ask friends and family to buy me gifts since a baby shower isn't in my future.

"Congratulations! It's a Car!" And a bobble head jesus for my dash WILL be on the registry, have no doubt about it.

Awkward

2011-03-25T18:45:00.003-05:00

I thought the guy at the gym was smiling at me, so I smiled back. But I think he was just adjusting his mouth piece. Who wear a mouth piece at the gym where your opponent is the punching bag? Am I missing something?

Rind a Ding

2011-03-23T18:50:00.004-05:00

The rings I wore today hail from Iran.

This reminded me of a story. Once upon a time (I was about 12 or 13) I was given a different ring. It was a simple gold band that had a small emerald. A perfect gift befitting a young Iranian Princess from some second or third cousin. Well, almost perfect. The band was a smidge too small for all of my fingers and would only, loosely, fit on my pinkie. I sported that precious stone just like mob boss would. My sister had a similar ring, a different color of stone I believe, and hers daintily displayed on her delicate hand.

One Spring weekend my family, along with friends and family, went on a picnic at a local park. All the other families were Iranian and I wanted to wear my fancy pants ring and show off my wears. PINKIES UP.

"NehGaw Anghostareh Man!" I said! Look at my Ring! (Ok, I didn't actually say it in Farsi at the time, but I am trying to learn to speak the language and I just realized I knew all the words and could fit it into the story...) Everyone looked, everyone ahhhed and then everyone went about their business of having fun on the picnic. Exactly how I expected them to react.

Later in the day, after eating, drinking, playing, eating, running around, eating, drinking and eating some more I have to go the the bathroom. The only facilities near by are outhouses. The most vile or vile, but better than wetting yourself. I took a deep breath and walked into the dark stank stall.

I was done with my business and grabbing the TP. With the paper in my hand, I begin the motion of wiping. Immediately following that fateful motion I heard a dim "clink" and a soggy "thud." Horrified at the thought of what could have possible just occurred I keep my hand where it is. I wiggle my pinkie. It's empty.

I pull my hand out and verify with my own eyes. Sure enough, there is NO ring on my finger. A pulse of loss and sadness go through me and only briefly do I entertain the idea of attempting to retrieve it. My Pretty Pretty Pudgy Persian Princess ring was lost to the shitter or Shawnee Mission Park.

Goodbye Winter! Hello Spring!!!

2011-03-20T15:40:00.002-05:00

Let me start by wishing everyone a very happy and healthy new year! Or, in Farsi... Aide shomah Mobarak! (and no, I'm not referencing the recently ousted Egyptian president Hosi Mubarak...)

Secondly let me say that I may need to adjust my promise for Lent to be no TV...during the week. And that Movies are ok and so are TV shows on a DVD.

And third!!! Since today is the Iranian New Year that means that today is the first day of spring! Hallelujah Allah! Spring has Sprung. I've been waiting all winter for this day and I'm so happy it's finally here! The days have been lovely recently and we're all beginning to emerge from our caves. Thrusday, St. Patrick's Day, was BEAUTIFUL and I met up with Sabrina & Lee in Westport to celebrate my Irish Heritage.

Up until Friday I had it on good authority (my mom) that my siblings and I were either 1/64th or 1/128th Irish (she never was sure which). This obviously obligates me to drink green beer and green flavored jello shots come St. Patty's day. On Friday my Maternal Aunt messaged me saying that my mom's mistaken; our lineage is actually Scottish.

Oops.

Oh well. I'll still celebrate St. Patrick's Day. The moral of this story? I don't give a sh!t that you're not Iranian (extra cool points if you are).... HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!

FIRE JUMPING DAY!

2011-03-15T20:56:00.002-05:00

Tonight marks the beginning of Norooz (Iranian New Year) which you do, naturally, by jumping over a fire. I'm stuffed full of Iranian desserts (mmmmmmbaklava) and smell like camp fire. I also learned a naughty word tonight in Farsi which sounds a lot like "cous cous" but smells ENTIRELY different.

But before I did all that I went and bought my aunt flowers for her birthday. I was standing in line behind an older man who was buying 20 pounds of assorted meats, several bags of carrots and 4 heads of cabbage. I was trying to not look at the raw, red meat (or imagine what kind of damage that amount of cabbage could cause) when I saw a flash of green by the man's foot. He had dropped a few folded bills.

Daddy Warbucks hadn't noticed that he dropped the cash, I went to pick them up I noticed that all three were HUNDIES!!! Holy shit. $300. THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. WHY did he have to be standing right there??? I handed him the bills and he was beside himself.

He, obviously, didn't realize that he dropped the dough and thanked me again and again. When he was done checking out he shoved $5 in my hand and wouldn't let me NOT take it, though I told him it was "absolutely unnecessary."

So I'm five bucks richer now. Thanks Old Guy from the grocery store!!! This SO kicks the Aldi's shopping carts ass.

March Sadness

2011-03-13T18:47:00.005-05:00

Spring keeps teasing me. It was a beautiful 70 degree day on Friday without a cloud in the sky and the air smelled of sun. This morning, not ONLY did the Temptress take an hour for her "savings," but she pulled woolen clouds over the sun and dropped the temperature to a chilly 43.

It was the kind of day where you just want to stay in bed.

But some of us were more productive than others today.

Sunday chores have been completed with no help from THIS GUY ^^^

One more week till Spring!

Butt Prints

2011-03-10T20:58:00.002-06:00

This made me laugh. And I hope it does for you as well because it's all I've got for you people.

http://blogs.pitch.com/plog/2011/03/butt_prints_in_the_sand.php

Enjoy.

ps. I gave up TV for Lent. No, I'm not catholic... so, there really isn't a whole lot of draw for me to see this through, but then again I rarely let religion stop me from doing what I want and if I want to finish the last disc of Project Runway Season 7 that arrived in the mail today then DAMMIT I WILL. Maybe. I would feel guilty about it. Maybe I am part catholic.

Ms. Goodcents

2011-03-08T19:27:00.003-06:00

I've never passed a coin on the sidewalk and NOT picked it up. Regardless of the denomination - it's FOUND money. I wouldn't say that I constantly scan the ground for dropped change, but I certainly keep an eye out for it. Pennies are my most common find, but you can bet your sweet money penny that I'll pick it up and deposit it in my coin bank. Finding a nickle or a dime can brighten up my entire day and don't even get me started on how awesome finding a quarter is!!!

The time in the dirty snow
Jennie and I walked across the street to QuickTrip and there, in a puddle of mostly melted, dirty, slushy snow was a penny!

The time is wasn't
It was really just a flattened bottle cap.

The time outside of work
A dime, a nickle and two pennies! Cha-ching!

The time in Amanda's car
I found a few pennies on her seat and she said "keep 'em, I don't use pennies" and keep them I did.

The time it was stuck to the sidewalk
I found a quarter outside of my apartment building a few summers ago and it was IN the cement. I chiseled that sonofabitch out of the concrete with my metal nail file. There is still a hunk of cement on it... so... using it in a vending machine or for laundry is out of the question;

and quite honestly, I'm not sure if it's acceptable as currency.

The time at the vending machine
Someone didn't take all their change. Finders Keepers.

The OTHER time it wasn't
Effing bottle caps.

The time at the gym
A shiny dime right by my eliptical!

And the most recent time...

The time in the Aldi's parking lot
Someone had left a shopping cart in the parking lot, which meant they forfeited their quarter deposit! SWOOPS!!!

Natasha Max

2011-03-07T19:41:00.004-06:00

If you're like me, then when you get a new pair of gym shoes you also get a, potentially dangerous, sense of "super workout immortality" when you first break them in. Somehow, to me, new kicks means that I can run harder, faster, longer than ever before. I can double my pull-ups, push-ups, squats and lunges. I even agreed to do another half marathon with Amy.

With my new Nike Air Max trainers I was Queen of the gym, supreme leader of the treadmill and the Benevolent overlord of the dumb bells.

Until the very next morning when I woke up sore ALL over with no less than 2 pulled muscles. And shin splints. And shin splints on top of my shin splints. Damn you new shoes for making me feel invincible and "in shape." Never once did my feet hurt! I thought that running that extra mile wouldn't be no big thang.

I find some small consolation in the fact I got the sneakers for over $90 off the original price. TAKE THAT RETAIL. Now pardon me while I go ice and wrap my legs.

Model Behavior

2011-03-03T21:03:00.005-06:00

Obviously you can see from the flashback pic below, my propensity to work it in front of the camera has been there since the very beginning. It was there before my hair was better than yours. It was there before my hair resembled something tame and "touchable," even. There has always been something about modeling that was fun to me. Striking a pose was just another strange and eccentric part of me.

More recently I've began to weasel myself into the model business. Somehow I convinced Sabrina to let me be her model (actually, she says that no one else is volunteering) and we had a great time on our second outing together. The assignment had something to do with overhangs, or shadows or over cast or aperture. One of those. This is one of my favorites.

More recently I was scouted out by a local designer and she asked me to be a model for her IN A MOTHER FVCKING FASHION SHOW. I teeter between whether the idea is more awesome or more awesomER. I didn't hesitate when she asked me but I did pause when she told me I'd have to go to the Casting Call.

ME. Me who doesn't even come close to being a model type at all.... and forget the "not a size zero" thing for a second... I barley come in at 5 foot 5 inches... went to a casting call. YES... it was as funny as I'm sure you're imagining it right now. I was slightly above "mother effing clueless" about the whole thing. I have seen enough of America's Next Top Model to wear my highest heels and bring a head shot.

My second walk was MUCH better than my first and by the time the whole thing was over I didn't know whether to race home to binge on my Ben & Jerry's ice cream or to try to force-vomit the last 3 days worth of meals out. If I thought the Skinny Bitch back in January was a self-image killer... I don't know what made me think that my ego would survive a fashion cattle call in one piece.

All that doesn't matter because The Designer wants more real bodies in her show and she likes my look. The show is Friday the 25th... just 3 weeks away! Multiple designers will be showcased there and it's free.. so... please come out and support local fashion... and yours truly!

It's Hammer Time

2011-03-02T19:42:00.002-06:00

For all the non-believers out there...

Can't touch this, bitches.

How I spent my first day of kindergarten dressed like a clown

2011-02-28T19:59:00.002-06:00

For the 100th time I put my foot down against wearing an ensemble my mother had made. I was not against the idea of homemade garb, but I was vehemently against her hideous items. I was NOT going to look like a fool on the first day of kindergarten. I had been looking forward to going to school for a couple of years, I knew there would be all sorts of new people to meet and talk to and my inner social butterfly was bursting out of her cocoon. I needed to put my best dressed foot forward. I was not going to ruin this very special day by wearing either the leopard print imitation hammer pants or any one of the numerous jumpsuits she was fond of sewing.

There were certain things she had made me that I loved; my winter knit cap with NATASHA embroidered on it complete with a puffy yarn ball on top, all my doll and Barbie clothes and an ivory and pink dress that had long ago become too small for me, but I hung onto in the hope I’d fit into it again. One day…

Where her clothes failed me, personally, were in material choice and design pattern. Both were unimaginative and straight out of the clearance bin. The very BOTTOM of the clearance bin. A dollar per yard typically bought you a color that could not be found in nature with some sort of reject print, usually biblical in theme. The neon sea foam green dress with Noah’s Ark dotted all over it did not last long in my closet.

In addition to my very own original garments, I received my sister’s hand-me-down. I usually went out of my way to lose or ruin them. After learning that ripping or tearing them would only get me a nicely stitched scar in the ugly pants, I almost gave up. But staining them opened new doors. Permanent markers could be found in the kitchen utensil drawer, however, I quickly learned that purposefully writing your own name on your own pants is really, really hard to pass off as an accident.

I hadn’t gotten around to destroying my most hated piece; The Clown Jumpsuit. Red corduroy with lots of balloons and ribbons of varying primary colors complete with a huge, white, lace-trimmed collar. A collar whose size and stiffness rivaled most of the collars sported by clowns. Needless to say, I refused to wear it on my first day of school.

Ironically enough, I do not remember what I was wearing when I boarded the big yellow school bus, but I remember meeting my new best friend, Debbie. Debbie was blonde, leggy and outspoken- everything I wanted to be. My pudgy legs got me around OK and my mass of course, curly hair would not be tamed for another 13 years. We bonded over the things typical 5 year olds bond over. Favorite colors, animals and pudding snacks.

She was the only child, a concept that I have very limited exposure to, and got to eat name brand cereal. Her clothes were bought from real stores and didn’t have previous owners such as her older sister or complete strangers – or both. By the time we arrived at school we had become bosom buddies and I promised her an invite to my birthday party. I hoped we were in the same class.
Giddy with first day jitters, we slid out of the green vinyl seat and marched down the aisle. We made our way down the bus stairs, I was in the lead. Halfway down, I hear a moan followed by a nauseous groan and turn around just in time to watch Debbie vomit all over my chest, legs and a bit on my chin. Since she was on the step above me, gravity made sure that I caught ALL of the puke. What are friends for, right? I stood there in shock, frozen and disgusted simultaneously. I remember the thought “Throw up is all over me! Throw up is all over me! Throw up is all over me!” looping through my head. Apparently Cheerios and Malt-o-Meal Toasted Os digest the same.

The nurse took care of ill-stomached Debbie, school policy dictated she go home. Her mom was summoned and she lay down on the back cot to wait. I, on the other hand, just needed new clothes. The nurse did her best to clean me off to make me most comfortable and while she was wiping off my pants she informed me that someone had contacted my mother, told her what had happened and asked her to bring a new set of clothes.

This all sounded fine and acceptable for about a half of a second. Then from with the pit of my stomach came a bad feeling. My 5-year old woman’s intuition had already developed. She was en route with the clown jumper – I just KNEW it – and there was nothing I could do about it. Sitting on the couch, I began rocking back and forth muttering “please not the jumper, anything but the jumper, god, if you care about me at all you will have her bring something else. EVEN THE LEOPARD PRINT IMMITATION HAMMER PANTS” To me the only thing worse than spending the day in vomit soaked clothes would be to spend the day in that wretched and vile oversized onesie.

I held out hope for as long as I could. When my mom came through the door I sent one last plea out to whatever deity would listen to me. “I will serve you unconditionally and go forth and be a soldier in your name if in her bag are hand me down jeans and a puff paint t-shirt I made at Vacation Bible Study!” My pleading with God was in vain. I cannot claim to have been surprised when my mom pulled out the clown jumper. Had she picked it on purposed DESPITE or INSPITE of my refusal to wear it? I could not tell. She might have just forgotten that I was the daughter that hated this particular garment. Maybe she saw it as an opportunity to teach me a lesson about being thankful to have clean, warm clothing. Or, most likely, she saw that it was pretty hilarious that after spending an entire morning arguing with her about what to wear – someone up-chucks all over me and she’s able to win the battle after-all.

Since there was no other choice than for me to slip into the bathroom and change, I begrudgingly did so. I realized it was futile to argue with my mom and even though I almost asked her to go get something else. Who was I kidding to believe she would actually make another round trip for a different change of clothes.

And that is how I spent my first day of kindergarten dressed like a clown.

Make It Work!

2011-02-24T18:46:00.009-06:00

I channelled two very different but two decisively foxy silver hair men this past week. The first was Anderson Cooper and while I'm bummed I can't share that story just yet, I promise that it's pretty amazing and is really really bad ass.

The second silver fox was Tim Gunn.

Our mother, being a seamstress during my younger years, taught all 4 of us kids to sew. I could competently maneuver my way around a sewing machine but my technique, skill and workmanship usually left a lot to be desired. I rarely measured... I eyeballed A LOT of cuts and measurements and didn't have the patience to rip out and redo something I did wrong. Needless to say, I made A LOT of pillows, curtains or anything else with very few steps and a forgiving seam allowance.

Recently, the desire to take to sewing once more ignited. What ISN'T awesome about picking out your own fabric, picking the pattern and then making it fit your own body? The tragicness of having home made garments when I was 5 was that my mom's void of fashion and style (through the eyes of a kindergartner...) resulted in jumpsuits with big floppy collars. Now that I am in control it's no longer lame and hokey (the hammer pant phase she went through emotionally scared me), I just have to hone my sewing and pattern-following skills.

My Sis is a pretty good seamstress in her own right, in addition to knowing more about the craft... she actually has a sewing machine! I asked her if we could pull a Project Runway and sew, SEW, SEW!!! Skirts are the easiest garment to make, second only to the scrunchie, so we looted JoAnns Fabric Store and she took me under her wing.

The first skirt was the most basic pattern and a really fun print. I refer to it as my Navajo skirt. At this point, I've already had a time of it with the pockets. I was close to my wits end because all the pattern vocabulary was Greek to me and Nily had to translate EVERYTHING.

"So, when the pattern says to press??? Does that mean iron it?"

"Yes."

Making the skirt was A LOT of fun and gave me a really cool feeling of accomplishment. PLUS I was was really excited about getting home to put together an outfit!

I kinda look like a monkey hear, but it was the best shot I captured before my camera's battery died. Could Brian be right about my Casio after all?

Home Sweet Home

2011-02-23T18:41:00.004-06:00

There is no place like home. Coming home to a space with all your own comforts after a week is no match for spending time with family and friends. I am back after a multi-leg jaunt to North Carolina in which I spent time with a dear friend of mine, Danielle and then traveled 2 hours southeast to spend time with The Sis and The Nef. The trip had numerous highlights and quite a few amusing moments and I hope to be able to share all of them.

But tonight I want to tell you about Brian & Syble.

Brian was the suit sitting next to me on the plane to Chicago. Since it was late Friday afternoon and he wearing the aforementioned suit, I asked...

"So, it's Friday afternoon and you're in a suit. You're headed home, right?"

Sure enough, he was. He claimed Chicago to be the best city in the world and he answered all the questions I had about it: How cold does it get there? How big is it? What's the population? Have you ever seen Oprah??? Pretty Cold. Really Big. A lot and No. His answers were more detailed but I don't remember the specifics. He was friendly and like able, so the hour passed quickly.

Eventually I asked what he did and where he worked, he had mentioned he traveled a lot and for a pretty big company.

"Have I heard of the company you work for?"

"I hope so! Canon Printers and Cameras."

"OH! My camera is a Canon!" Proud and excited I pull it out of my bag to share a random connection that he and I have.

Except my camera is actually a Casio. So it was more awkward and a tad embarrassing.

"So, you don't care about having a quality camera."

I tried to back peddle about how I got a good deal, my camera needs are not that involved and that I just really liked the fuchsia color... he was buying none of it. He threatened to go get his boss in first class and have him chastise me.

It was all in good fun, though (I think).

On the way home I sat next to Syble on the hour and a half flight to Hotlanta. Syble was great in many ways, but probably the best way was that she had to be the fact that she has developed this deck of cards called "Money Habi-tudes" cards that are used to help people understand how they treat money and ways to improve their habit and attitudes about moolah and gain financial control of their lives. She was on her way to North Dakota to talk to the Catholic Diocese there, a group close to 100 people.

"And the best part is" she told me "is that I'm Jewish!"

OY VEY! Yes Syble, that IS the best part*.

*For the records, this does NOT make me a stereo-type believin' anti-Semitic. I adored Syble and I think the feeling was mutual. She encouraged me to keep practicing and striving to be better at my violin and gave me tips on how to take control of my budget and reach savings goal!

A Scarf Proposal

2011-02-15T18:41:00.006-06:00

I didn't have anyone to make a scarf for after I finished Stef's. I experimented with the double crochet... and that was fun and all, but it wasn't FOR someone. I really like it when I know I'm making it for someone specific. After John Scott complimented me on the scarf I was sporting I struck a deal with him. It went something like this:

Me: What if I made you a rad scarf to your color and size specifications and you gave me a couple of months membership for free?

John: Hells Yes. Surprise me!

And make him a rad scarf I did. This might-as-well-call-it-a-blanket BEAUTY is the most grand and large thing I have EVER crocheted. I'm glad he let me pick the colors because I already had two in mind. In addition to being the biggest thing I've ever made, it was also the first time I switched up color.

I'm proud that I finished before Spring arrived. Seriously. I clocked around 30 hours worth of needle and couch time with this bad boy. It was the perfect activity during my hibernation, but SO glad that it's done and delivered!

The Worlds BEST gym owner. EVER. He told me a story of when he had his first gym back in the day and Paul Rudd was a client of his (Paul is from around these here parts) and he approached Paul on the treadmill but ended up scaring/startling the sh!t out of him and almost had a bad fall. Oh that's right! He almost seriously maimed Paul Rudd and Clueless might never have happened.

LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT THING. And the craftsmanship was pretty dandy if I do say so myself.

Figured out why orange was one of the colors I picked yet?

Goodbye Candy

2011-02-14T23:27:00.002-06:00

...and with 26 minutes left to February 14, I say "good riddance" to all the candy that has infiltrated our lives since Halloween. The sucrose cycle of candy and sweets will subside until October and I needn't worry about getting Diabetes just from walking around my office from all the chocolates, cakes, cookies, caramels and other confectioners delights.

Thankfully, for the next cycle of holidays we will not celebrate with Pies and Puddings. Nope, from March until September we celebrate our holidays with Beer.

Black Violin, White Stuff

2011-02-09T18:39:00.003-06:00

Last night I made the hour trek to Lawrence, Kansas to see Black Violin. All by myself and through another (albeit smaller) snow storm. It was soooooooo worth it.

I'll get to the performance in a sec, but first.... Mother Nature, will you meet me at camera 3?

Mother Nature - I get it already. Enough with the cold and snow. Please stop. Are you upset because Father Time hasn't asked you to be his Valentine? I totally understand. I haven't had a valentine in YEARS but I don't see that as an excuse to go around dumping piles and piles of frozen depression (aka snow) on everyone. Maybe we can be each other's Valentine? I wouldn't go the ordinary route of chocolate or flowers with you, my lady, but rather I would plants trees, pick up trash and recycle paper goods for you. By the same token, I don't need sweets or cards. I just want you to light my fire. And by that I mean please raise the ambient outdoor temperature to above freezing. Thank you.

Snow or no snow, I was resolved to see the show. Brother Daniel saw them a couple years back and got their CD. When we lived together, said CD was left on the coffee table for approximately 3 months and after giving up the dream that it would find its way back to Daniel's CD case, I gave it a listen.

So, Black Violin - if you're not familiar, is a trio made up of a violin, a viola... and a DJ. Only if they would let me cover them in buttons and curly ribbons could I love them more. Seriously. For the most part, their act consists of the DJ (TK is his name) mixing music while Kev Marcus (violin) and Wil-B (viola) did their thing over/with it. They sample Rihanna, Akon, The Temptations, Beyonce and many, many more. Did I mention that I love them?

There were two highlights to last night's show for me. The first came when Kev and Wil-B free styled. The second was when they, and this is a direct quote, "threw some stank on some Bach." Their arrangement of Brandenburg Concerto Number 3* was SICK and the beats the DJ threw down had the old white couple in front me bustin a move. Johann Sebastian would have been proud.

Overall, they stuck with music from this century, but I hope that in the future they produce an album entirely of classical music.... but with some stank thrown on it.

And speaking of stank... I had the Sweet potato and Feta sandwich at the Wheatfields Bakery before the show. Inventive AND Delicious. Obviously last night's theme was "take 2 relatively unrelated things and mash them together and JUST LIKE MAGIC Natasha is insanely happy."

The Great Migration

2011-02-07T19:31:00.009-06:00

The sun came out for two GLORIOUS days last week, right after the huge snow storm came blowing through town. I love the natural light in my apartment and I'm not the only one. Sabrina has a "lighting" photo assignment due soon and she wants to stage the shot at my place. Also, all the plants love the abundance of sun in the space. Of course old Smokey loves the sun spots when I open all the blinds. A combination of cabin fever, self-amusement and an easy blog post motivated me to document Sammy's migration.

10:07am

The novelty that I am home has worn off (and NOT petting him) and Sammy goes off to do his own thing.

12:22

The sun isn't going to out maneuver this old guy.

1:59

Hanging on to the last corner of sunlight.

2:45

2:47

Stretch.

3:14
Sunlight + Carpet = Best

4:00
Mystery solved why a necklace is on the floor when I get home from work some days.

You Get What You Ask For

2011-02-03T21:10:00.003-06:00

I am a staunch believer that if you need something, the universe will provide it for you. What is hard for me to explain is my definition of the word "need" in that statement. And sometimes I can't explain or reason to you the timing of how it works either; honestly, I don't know the real mechanics of the whole system but I BELIEVE that when I need something... the very next moment the universe is giving it to me. I've gotten both ipods and reality checks this way.

Before I left for Orchestra rehearsal earlier this evening I wondered if maybe having a better shoulder rest would improve how I hold the instrument. The guitar is the only instrument you can successfully play with bad posture, everything else requires that you stand or sit up straight. A fleeting thought that I was going to do more research on later.

Half way through practice Mr. Beck (the conductor), asked my stand partner if a shoulder rest that had been left behind ages ago was hers. It wasn't. It didn't belong to any of the other violinists either.

AND JUST LIKE THAT I was the proud owner of a really sweet shoulder rest. This new shoulder rest is like the Godiva Chocolate of shoulder rests. The Ben & Jerry's of shoulder rests. My old shoulder rest was a Hershey's Bar or frost bitten Blue Bunny Ice Cream at best.

Thanks Universe!

Snowed In

2011-02-02T09:41:00.000-06:00

Compared to other parts of the country, our snow fall amounts were moderate. Still, that doesn't mean I'm going out in this sh!t! C'mon, it is five degrees outside. FIVE. And as much as I'd like to say "the only thing allowed to be 5 is this guy," I can't. Alas, work outs have been reduced to shuffling between the living room and kitchen and my diet resembles that of a bear BEFORE she hibernates (the eating everything in sight part... not so much the fresh berries and wild caught salmon part).

The beauty of the season has inspired me to write some poetry, not entirely UNLIKE Robert Frost.

Snow falls everywhere
All is frozen and covered
Damn, is it spring yet?

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Get me the fuck to Hawaii

There once was a girl who had to hibernate

After days of snow and cold she was pretty irate

She lost all power

She couldn't even shower

The only fun thing left to do was to....

Snowmageddon

2011-01-31T17:38:00.000-06:00

Here in Kansas City we're waiting for Mother Nature to take big ol' winter dump on us. If you listen to the hyperbole of the local weather person, expect 8 to 14 inches of snowfall by Wednesday.

I'm not sure what to expect. All I know is that it is ridiculously wet & cold outside. Once again, my provisions for hibernation have been procured. However, if we lose power, I'm not sure how to handle that. My laptop's battery is about 4 hours.

Sammy Davis Jr. Goes to the Vet

2011-01-24T18:43:00.000-06:00

Taking my new role as a "pet-rent" very seriously, I made an appointment to take Sammy to the vet. He has been coughing and more recently has been sneezing too. I received a coupon in the mail for a Vet Clinic close by and if you send me a coupon I'll patron your establishment - it's that easy.

I don't have a pet carrier, so I dug out an old gym bag from the back of my closet, eyeballed the size of the main compartment and decided that Sammy would fit. Now before you guys judge me, I did TRY to get a hold of a pet carrier from someone I work with but another pseudo-blizzard came blowing through town at the end of the week last week and we all worked from home.

So Saturday morning arrived. I grabbed Sammy and tried putting him in the gym bag. I think my "lightning" approach was the wrong one to take. I had thought that if I grab him and put him in the bag quickly then - just like ripping off a band aid - the worst of it would be over.

Just like his namesake, SD Jr. is mellow, cool and laid back - until you try to fold him into a gym bag. I had "successfully" gotten him half way in the bag when he freaked out and escaped my clutches. One of his claws caught onto the bag and when he ran away from me he drug the bag with him.

The second attempt was a success and I got him in the bag, though I didn't have the heart to zip it all the way closed. Once in the car, he was out of the bag in about 6 seconds. That's about when I abandoned the bag idea and just carried him to and from the car.

Everyone at the clinic loved him. He didn't cry when he got his anti-biotic shot for his cough, though he got pretty irritated at the doctor when cleaning out his ears. Seriously - the vet dug out so much wax that he could have made a crayon.

Besides his cough and a desperate need for a dental cleaning, Old Smokey has a clean bill of health for a 17 year old cat. The vet told me that Siamese can live well into their 20's which means me getting out of being a pet owner any time soon just went out the window.

I should probably invest in a pet carrier.

ps. Today is MHIBTY 3rd Birthday!

Don't tell me you hate Ayn Rand...

2011-01-21T09:41:00.000-06:00

...because then I will stumble across an Ayn Rand Philosophy course in the Communiversity Catalogue, think of you and make this...

...which you will HAVE to cherish for forever since it was made with love and hot glue.

For the record, I have no feelings, either way, for Ayn Rand. I borrowed Atlas Shrugged from Liz ages ago and still haven't read it. Hey Liz - do you want that back?

I wanna girl in a SMAAAAAAAAAAALL jacket.

2011-01-19T21:12:00.000-06:00

With all due resprect to Cake. Another thrifty-thrift treasure.

Both this great Mossimo jacket AND the super soft and comfy Express zebra print turtle neck were scored in the great second-hand glutten fest from this past weekend. I found the necklace in the belt section for $3.

We all need to do our part to reduce our carbon footprint and if that means I primarily buy re-sale then so be it.

I draw the line at under garments.

MHIBTY Goes to the Movies

2011-01-18T19:27:00.000-06:00

My DVD player is back in working order. I'm not sure what happened. Preliminary conclusion is that I had the red and yellow inputs switched, though, I would have sworn I checked those. Oh well, I'm not entirely surprised that I forgot to look. Regardless, now I can now resume my Netflix membership

I don't watch a terrible amount of movies. I don't have anything against them, I actually LOVE movies, but I've just seen a below average amount of them. I will admit that I've never seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Adams Family, Patch Adams or any of the Family Vacations. I watched Pulp Fiction for the first time last summer. There are more, but I'm not going there today.

Today is another "no qualifications" review (and I use that world loosely) of all the movies I've seen since Thanksgiving.

Very Bad Things
Sabrina recommended this movie and said "this is the what inspired 'the hangover.'" With that, I was ready for hilarity to ensue while the bachelors romped through Vegas 1999 style. And then Jeremy Piven accidentally killed the hooker and Christan Slater went bat sh!t crazy. The body count kept growing and I kept waiting for Mike Tyson to make his cameo. Soon I realized that Sabrina had misspoke - this movie hadn't inspired "The Hangover," "Very Bad Things" is what happened when "The Hangover" and "American Physcho" had a baby.

What About Bob
Bill Murray is a classic. This movie is brilliant in its simplicity and I'm so glad to have finally watched it. Right off the bat you're irritated with Richard Dryfuss's arrogant doctor character and I was smitten with Bob's adorable fear or everything. I loved the formula of the movie and the characters were endearing.

Eat Pray Love
The book is ALWAYS better than the movie.

Harry Potter 7.1
I struggled between which made me more lame: wanting to go see this movie or not having someone to go with? I ended up seeing it with Jennie - whose girlfriend didn't want to see it, so it was a date by default. But of course I thought it was AWESOME.

Half Baked
I had never seen this one either and was just, mostly, watching it so I'd get the references. It made me miss the Chappelle Show thats fo sho.

Une Femme Est Une Femme
A French film, "A Woman is a Woman" was a fun and endearing story about a woman in the 1960's that wanted to have a baby but her boyfriend wasn't hip to the idea. One of my favorite scenes was early on when they were going to sleep and she kept coming onto him.

Her "My fanny is cold."
Him "I'm not falling for that."

Love Actually
I am a sucker for this movie. It's a Christmas Movie. It's a Romantic Comedy. It's British.

Black Swan
It failed to give me the heebie jeebies like it did for Shan, but that's mainly because I psyched myself out for it because it had skeered her so much. It was a genuine thriller set in a world perfect for the dramatics it created. Plus it was a great way to familiarize a new generation to the story of Swan Lake. You guys knew I used to be a ballerina, right?

And by "ballerina" I mean I took ballet classes from some lady, who owned a small studio in Prairie Village Kansas, from 2nd to 7th grade. And now I have something in common with Natalie Portman... "SO we were both in a production of Swan Lake..."

Spring is in the Air

2011-01-16T15:12:00.000-06:00

Spring is actually NOT in the air. However, spring is in my wardrobe. People near and dear to me know I rock the thrift store. I often will try to dress exclusively in thrift store items just because I can.

Yesterday the Thrift Bug bit me and I spent hours at my favorite neighborhood spot. One of the many great things about thirft stores are that they are unique and you have to dig to find treasures. As a Chinese fortune cookie once told me, nothing worth having is ever easy.

I spent somewhere between 2 or 3 hours total digging through the clothes. I didn't even LOOK at housewares. I spent my entire time going through all the racks of clothing. I found this skirt for just a few dollars.

The only reason these photos are touched up is because I have on NO make up and haven't showered today.

I can't wait for spring.

What's SOOOOO funny?

2011-01-12T18:21:00.000-06:00

At the age of 9 I was allowed to tag along with my sister, cousin and a few of their friends to go see Fried Green Tomatoes. I was with my older sister and eating candy in a dark theater thinking life couldn't get any better.... the poignant story was lost on me... when during the "barbecue" scene the theater erupted in laughter after the line "... the secret is in the sauce."

Everyone was laughing and I didn't know why. Panic stricken, I tried to replay the scene and piece together the dialogue to get the punch line, but I couldn't. A combination of intent concentration on my whoppers and skittles and the fact that I was only nine years old led me to miss the joke.

I didn't realized the laughter had completely died when I turned to my sister and, loudly, asked "What's SOOOOO funny?"

A few giggles sprang up throughout the crowd and I immediately realized I was not only a dunce, but a dense dunce and broadcasted to EVERYONE that I didn't get the joke...that the secret was NOT the sauce however, but instead the meat.

Anyway, fast forward to today. I received an email from a friend who asked if she is a bad person for getting a laugh out of the name Kimberly Hunt...initials K. Hunt. Seeing nothing wrong or even remotely funny, I didn't think so. I assumed, rightly, I was missing something. I replied all and asked "Did something just go over my head?"

When another friend replied "say it quickly..." the sting of public embarrassment I knew from the movie theater came rushing back.

MY EXCUSE for not getting it at first, I'll tell you, is that I just don't have a dirty mind and that word just isn't a part of my vernacular. And now I have to go back and re-read all my old posts to see if I ever dropped the See You Next Tuesday bomb.

Hibernation

2011-01-10T20:11:00.001-06:00

The first major snowfall of the season started falling about 24 hours ago. A fraction of what the Northeast got after Christmas, but still - several inches worth. It's now the fourth week into winter and hibernation is official.

My pantry is stocked. I made an improvised pasta with a couple of quick "how to?" texts to Stef. For example "How do I make a garlic butter sauce for a pasta?" Her response was to basically melt the butter and then to saute some garlic in it. It's basic cooking skills or inherited knowledge (whichever it is) like this that I lack, but BY GOD I will learn to cook.

Anyway, my dinner was tasty and I've been holed up in my apartment for 25.5 hours and really don't want to leave until Orchestra starts back up on Thursday. Thanks to the stocked pantry and a pretty sweet gig that allows me to be able to do my job from home, I think that is a very possible, probable and guaranteed possibility. The only thing that will, undeniably, be my breaking point is cabin fever.

Actually, what might get me out is to go to the gym. I might have to brave the cold to go get my sweat on. On the other hand, I think Sammy has the right idea here...

Hibernation is all about sleeping and staying warm. That could be a bear in cave or old cat in front of the space heater, the principle is the same and the only thing I want to do right now. That and eating my pasta.

Multi-tasking

2011-01-05T22:26:00.000-06:00

It's hard to crochet a scarf and watch an Italian Opera. It would be easy to listen to one while working on a scarf, but watching it means glancing up often enough to read the sub titles. Never the less, I was able to multi-task and make progress on a new scarf featuring a brand new stitch (to me) - the DOUBLE crochet - and watch Don Pasquale on PBS.

If being a dork was an Olympic sport then I'd be a contender for the gold.

I started on a new scarf because I finished Stef's scarf. Now, you might remember that I made Stef a scarf 2 years ago, but in true Stef fashion she lost it while volunteering with her AmeriCorp troop last winter at a homeless shelter. For whatever it's worth, even though she did lose it, I hope it's keeping someone warm.

She came over and picked out the buttons and now all I have to do is sew them on.

Maybe I can do that tomorrow during The News Hour with Jim Lehrer.

You skinny bitch.

2011-01-03T19:49:00.000-06:00

Blissfully unaware of anything afoot, I was confused why my gym's parking lot was near capacity. My super secret back alley parking spot was taken, too. I hesitated only briefly - a prime spot right by the door was open. My ignorance continued.

"Man," I thought "all the elipticals are taken. It is BUSY up in here" when I walked in.

The sheer volume of people in the gym didn't tip me off to it, it was the simple detail that I didn't RECOGNIZE most of them. I know who the familiar faces are and most of the people in the gym tonight were either brand new or finally renewed their month to month membership after a 6-9 month hiatus.

It's New Years Resolutioner season.

GOD DAMMIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Don't get me wrong. I fully appreciate making a commitment to better ones self, but can you please not do it at my gym? All you do is take up parking spaces during the coldest months of the year.

The large majority of the NYRers were just your average joes, but there was one chick, tonight, that was seriously SMOKING HOT. Her body was compact, long and tone. She didn't jiggle when we did ANY of the moves. Not even her tits. Trust me - I was watching. While I on the other hand have everything jiggle when I jog in place. Even my armpits. I am not kidding.

Hot Chick and I chatted it up after class and she eventually confessed that she hadn't been to a gym in 10 years.

I hate you Hot Chick. I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!! You hadn't even broken a fucking sweat and here I am toweling off as we speak. Die in a fire.

Ok - not reeeeeeeeeeallly. I don't actually hate you, but I do believe it's annoying and a smidge on the unfair side.

It all works out in the end, thought, because my hair is better than yours.

You skinny bitch.

Happy New Year

2011-01-02T18:54:00.000-06:00

I hosted an impromptu new years eve gathering. A small handful of us had no set plans, really, so I made a few snacks and bought a couple bottles of champange and invited them to ring in the new year with me. This way I got to drink and be merry in my own home AND claim title to having thrown at least 2 New Years parties in less than one calendar year.

The Iranian new year is celebrated on the first day of Spring. Makes a little more sense if you think about it - new life, end of winter.... earth awakening.... but whatever - celebrating it in the dead of winter if fine too. I guess it doesn't really make that big of difference, especially in Kansas City. I mean, this past spring - the day of my party, we got 8 inches of snow. And just this past Thursday (new years eve eve) there was a high of 61 degrees. That's Kansas City weather for ya.

I'm officially out of material when I've succumbed to talking weather on my blog. Happy New Year (if you celebrate this one).

That's a Wrap

2010-12-27T19:13:00.000-06:00

I just threw away several bags of homemade christmas candy. And then told myself, out loud, that I will NOT go digging through the trash later on tonight after sugary morsels of goodness and happiness. My sister, wisely, suggested that I go ahead and take the trash out to be safe, but, TODAY was trash day.

It's ok. I'll just clean out the litter box tonight and bury all the delicious peanut brittle, chocolate nut clusters and white chocolate covered pretzels with red and green sprinkles in cat shit. I should be safe then.

I used up leftover paper, ribbons, bows, boxes and bags this year for my wrapping.

I only sustained 1 hot glue gun burn.

How crazy/potentially selfish was it that I bought my brother the Inception DVD/Blue Ray combo pack in the hopes he would give/lend me the DVD? Regardless, that's what I did. Unfortunately my DVD player bit it and I have no way to watch it now. Karma?

Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!!!

Oooooommmmmm

2010-12-20T19:06:00.000-06:00

I recently, within the past 4 or 5 weeks, have been meditating in the mornings. So far I'm just trying to settle into the habit of putting aside time each morning, focus on my breathing and attempt to empty my mind. Some mornings have been better than others.

About half of the time Sammy Davis Jr. will come up and rub against my knee or hand wanting some morning love. I don't pay him any attention and he'll eventually leave me alone.

THIS morning I heard him batting around something but I had to put it out of my mind. I was just letting him "be." Then CRASH went one of my plants. It startled the shit out of me and my eyes flew open and my heart was racing. Not too long after the accident, Sammy scampered away unharmed. I decided to continue with my meditation and pick up the mess when I was done.

I had settled back into my breathing. My mind was becoming blank. I was Ommmmm.

And then Sammy yacked up beside me.

Fucking cat.

Thank goodness for hardwood floors.

Babes in Toyland

2010-12-15T19:53:00.000-06:00

While yesterday's Santa get-up was accidental or unconscious (take your pick), I chose to take that as inspiration to be more like Santa. And you can't spell Natasha without S-A-N-T-A. It's true. Just try it. You will fail.

Of course this also means that you can't spell Natasha without S-A-T-A-N. But that is a post for different day.

ANYway...

My mom and I wanted to buy some toys to donate to Operation Breakthrough and today was pay day! Over lunch I flew in my sleigh (Honda) to my workshop (wal-mart) and got a handful of toys. It's been years since I've shopped for toys, I had a blast going up and down the aisles. When picking the gifts my only filter was "would I play with this?" I ALMOST got this Dairy Queen ice cream-sundae making machine. But then I realized that I didn't want to make ice cream - I just love to eat it.

I came away with a decent mix of dolls and toys. I picked the girl doll out solely based on her outfit and if I'd wear it. Three have some educational value, so I felt good about that. And my absolute favorite out of the bunch has to be this guy. (He's a lot louder in person.)

If you're able to pay it forward at all this Holiday season I hope that you chose to.

Ho Ho Ho

2010-12-14T20:15:00.000-06:00

You guys. I'm scared.

I'm not scared that I'm taking posed photos of myself most mornings. I'm not scared that I'm documenting my insanity and then sharing it with the entire world most nights. I'm not scared that you guys now know I am a complete dork (Who am I kidding? You guys have ALWAYS known, but I'm just now realizing that I AM a complete dork)that isn't why I am scared.

You guys - I'm scared because I love Christmas SOOOO much that, today, I dressed like The Big Guy himself.

Isn't this how Tim Allen turned into Santa Claus?

Baby it's cold outside...

2010-12-13T22:08:00.000-06:00

It's effing cold. It was eight degrees this morning. The only thing allowed to be "8" is this girl. Oh yeah, that's right, I'm a size 8. That's a number I haven't seen since the 5th grade. And no, I am NOT kidding. 4 years ago I was rocking the big (BIG) 2-0. Did you know that there is a pant size TWENTY?

The owner of the gym I frequent told me recently that I was looking skinny. I have never, EVER, thought that someone would use “skinny” to describe me unless it was preceded by “not,” “un” or “absolutely the opposite of.”

I went on my first diet in the 5th grade. Not only did I feel chubbier than the girls, sometimes I felt chubbier than a few of the boys. Having no concept of healthy nutrition or balanced exercise, I was doomed to fail my self-imposed “diet” of carrot sticks, iceberg lettuce and reduced fat Fig Newtons. I don’t remember how long my willpower lasted, 3 days, a week, 12 hours? It’s all relative; the point is at the age of 10 I began my long, sad and sometime dark relationship with food, my weight and the phrase “plus size.”

The last 4 years have NOT been easy and I have hit many plateaus, obstacles and setbacks. I am most proud that I did not give up on myself.

And now lets look at cute pictures of me in my size 8!

Good Luck to Ada, tomorrow on The Biggest Loser. She totally kicks ass and has jiggly arms like me!!! I heart her.

O Christmas Tree

2010-12-06T22:05:00.000-06:00

Christmas is a great holiday because the weather is perfect for over eating, staying indoors and naps under layers of blankets. And don't get me started on the wrapping. I'm known to go effing insane with my some curly ribbon up in here. I love the carols. I love the plays & movies. I love the LIGHTS!

I have never not had a Christmas tree and this year, I couldn't stand the fact I didn't have one and the first week of December is drawing to a close, I did what I think a lot of crafty and resourceful ladies with a ficus tree would do.

You're thinking - "How Christmas-y is a ficus?"

It's a lot more Christmas-y than a pine tree, that's for sure. When was the last time you heard of an evergreen in Bethlehem?

That was frankincense and myrrh the Three Wisemen brought to little baby jesus in a manger, not Frankincense and a 6 foot Douglas Fir.

19 days until Christmas!

A Cinderella Story

2010-12-02T18:27:00.000-06:00

While the Orchestra waited in the wings to perform at the KCK Mayor's event, I spotted Wanda - a clarinet player. Out of the 40 - 45 orchestra members, she stuck out because she was NOT wearing the proper attire. Instead of donning the super-duper very UNflattering blue polo and matching Santa cap........complete with yarn ball at the tip for those that didn't click on the link below...... Wanda was wearing a beautiful deep red sheath gown, a long, black, sateen cardigan and most importantly... NOT the Santa cap. (I had been cornered about 10 minutes earlier and was given the hat and felt obliged to put it on. I'm already one of the weakest players, I was NOT going to be the Grinch of the violin)

"Well don't you look fabulous."

"Thanks. I'm going to the Fireman's Ball after this. It was either wear the blue shirt and NOT go or wear this and hurry on over there when this is done."

But all I heard was "...blah blah blah FIREMEN WHO WILL BE DRINKING AND HAVING A GOOD TIME blah blah blah..."

I have never disliked Wanda, but at that very moment I couldn't help but feel a little bit of jealously towards her. Hot Firemen. Dancing. Pretty party dresses and did I mention HOT FIREMEN? MY Friday night plans revolved around a David Sedaris novel and picking out a color to paint my toenails. I wasn't going to actually paint them until Saturday night, however I wanted to get picking the color out of the way.

"Wow! The Fireman's Ball, huh? How fun! If you see a hot, single one - snag him for me."

"Well, do you want to come? I have an extra ticket."

After coming up with every excuse in the book (nothing to wear, wouldn't know anyone, was going to the gym early in the morning....), my stand partner told me she was going to kick my ass if I didn't go. I accepted Wanda's invitation and I hoped to hell I didn't chicken out. After the concert she gave me the ticket, her phone number and directions. I was going to rush home, find something to wear and race to the ball. Kinda like Cinderella - but instead of chores, I had to shave my legs before I was allowed to go to the ball.

Most of my regular clothes are too big on me these days and my fancier, dress & party clothes are even more Sad Sack-ly than usual. I tried on a couple of different things and was having a wardrobe meltdown when Wanda called.

"Just checking on ya, my other friends are on their way. See you soon!"

"I'm leaving in 5 minutes" I lied.

It was more like 30.

I pulled myself together and dove back into my closet one more time. Sure it wasn't going to be a fancy gown or the perfect fit - but I wasn't going to let that stop me from going to the effing Fireman's Ball.

It wasn't the fanciest ensemble, but I think I looked pretty darn cute.

And I FELT pretty darn cute too! The ticket said "Coat and Tie" and I've been waiting for an opportunity to wear my gold, metal bow tie necklace.

(one more pic for good measure)

I met up with Wanda and her friends Kathy and Joy. Soon after, I meet Wanda's fireman friend - Gino. Gino the Wino. His own nickname for himself, not mine.

And BOY HOWDY could Gino dance. I spent most of the night dancing with him and the rest of the ladies. Wanda and her friends were at least 20 years my senior and the funnest penta and senta-generationals I've partied with in a looooong time. We were both wine tipsy and Kathy insisted on dragging me up to someone she thought I should "go with."

"Hi! What's your name? Meet my new friend Natasha. Go Dance."

I eventually had to ask her to stop trying to pass me out like Halloween Candy, I was beyond flattered, but I think our approach was a bit awkward.

So then we just danced some more. My favorite random interaction of the evening was when a drunk fireman (which should go with out saying...) came up to me and slurred...

"...you luuk thiiiirsty."

"Really? Usually people guess Italian."

Excitedly and proudly, he pointed to his hand-drawn Italian flag tapped above the giant tequila and margarita station he had brought to the ball and proclaim "Ima Italian!"

The clock struck midnight all too soon and it was time to go home. The entire evening was as fairytale-esque of an evening I could have asked for... I was smiling and laughing the whole night and started a few fires myself (ok, not really, but I did break at least one heart). Gino extended me a lifetime invitation and even said he'd give me a ride in the fire truck! Best Firemans Ball EVER!!!

Whoa

2010-11-30T15:47:00.000-06:00

The Orchestra performed at the KCK (that's Kansas City Kansas for those of you not in the know)Mayor's Christmas Tree Lighting the week before last. It was a great time for all, the kids enjoyed Santa and his workshop, Mrs. Claus was very merry and apparently there were amateur photographers there with too much time on their hands because someone snagged this shot:

http://communityfaces.kcstar.com/index.cfm?action=viewbig&id=3013&ImageID=332517&s=1&ac=1&ct=1&pc=1&fs=1&stf=1&preview=0

and then submitted it to the the KCStar.com.

Awesome.

$1 Peas

2010-11-22T21:20:00.000-06:00

Amy Bo Bamy is awesome for A LOT of reasons. She ran a half marathon with me (in fact, she made me sign up in the first place!), has fantastic fashion sense (she is the reason why I love belts and a cinched waist) and always knows a good poop joke. Like I said, she is pretty dope.

On top of all of those accolades, she works with an organization that puts on baby showers for army wives/moms-to-be: Operation Shower. I don't have time to tell you how wonderful and generous the people behind this organization are - but I do have time to ask you to donate ONE dollar to the group. In fact, I have so little time, I'm just going to copy and paste Amy's email to me here....

"Peas to go here. Text and donate $1. Ask all your friends to. Facebook it. Pass it on. Peas. If we raise $5000 via the texting the company will match it! It has to be by 12/2. Can you hep spread the word? Blog about it and be entered to win $100, too.

http://www.aboutone.com/ogt/

And enter for those SWEET prizes, dude. I wish I could."

The way she purposefully leaves out the "l"s on certain words make her too adorable to refuse.

Walk Much?

2010-11-17T19:22:00.000-06:00

Every once in awhile I'm tragically reminded how NOT cool I am. These little reminders keep me in check and tell me that I will always lean towards the awkward end of the spectrum.

Saturday was late Autumn perfection. A crisp bite in the air, a blue sky and bright sun: a beautiful day. I had handed the FTC his ass earlier that morning and was high on the success of making baked goods. Close to 1:30ish, I headed to The Westport Flea Market for lunch with an orchestra-mate. I felt great and knew that I looked guuuuuuuuuuuuuddah.

The Westport Flea Market is a Kansas City Institution. Their burger is consistently named the best in KC (interestingly, no veggie burger? Veg Panini was still really good!) and in its Hay Day, the market boasted over 40 booths of flea market awesomeness. Even a serial killer, at one time, had a booth there! I had never been and when Holly, a clarinet player, found that out, she insisted we go have lunch there together.

So, I was walking to meet Holly, the sun shining on my face and my curls bouncing jovially under my beret. The boots I wore that day have negative traction and I didn't have the greatest of grip when all of sudden I felt my right leg slip out from under me. My left leg was planted firmly on the ground, so in essence I did the splits. Fortunately I caught myself mid-split. UNfortunately I had landed in the road. SO. I was half-split with my ass in the air and in oncoming traffic.

I bet I looked like a monkey or a weird crab when I hurriedly scuttled on all fours up the little slope that caused me to lose my footing in the first place.

I quickly stood and put on an act of investigating the ground - looking for the sidewalk monster that had come through the cracks and caused me to stumble. But I realized that I shouldn't even bother. That just made it worse in my mind - I felt that anyone that had just saw this was already having a great laugh, I didn't want them to then hoot '"Oh, and look!!! NOW she's trying to act like there was a crack in the sidewalk!!!!! What a riot!"

Thankfully the light changed right then and I got the hell out of there. I didn't run, but I was moving with a mission: distance myself from the scene of the accident and any witnesses. I wouldn't let myself believe that anyone had just tweeted "A chick just fell in the cross walk. LOL. Walk Much?"

That would have crushed my soul.

I got knocked down a peg, that's for sure. Or maybe I just got knocked back into place?

She Bakes!

2010-11-16T19:05:00.000-06:00

To all of those that bore witness and sacrificed their taste buds to my French Toast Casserole last Sunday......... and also on my second attempt the following Thursday....... I apologize.

You see, I'm a pretty slow learner in the kitchen. Any recipe that is no bake, no fry, no saute - basically if is doesn't involve heat or fire I can almost guarantee I won't fudge it up too badly. But I'm not terribly comfortable in the kitchen. For starters there was a time I thought that kitchen appliances were just accessories - like big art installations in the room where I stored my left over take out.

I mean, it wasn't too long ago that grocery shopping or doing the dishes qualified as "prep work." These days my cabinets have a nice stash of the staples and most of my counter space is visible at all times. Progress has been made you guys. I'm more and more comfortable in the kitchen these days, though I still consider myself a novice, at best.

I learned MANY valuable lessons with the French Toast Casserole (the FTC, if you will...). Chief among them is to never debut a recipe at a brunch you host. Make sure you know what the fuck you're doing. OR have a backup dish at the ready. Either way. This way you know how much time to allot for baking and also what to expect from the dish itself. Is it suppose to be that color??? Should it be that runny in the middle?? And what's that smell???????

I took note of my mistakes made from my first two attempts, regrouped, and tried the FTC for Stef's Birthday this past Saturday. Stef has taught me a large majority of my cooking know-how. The differences in chopping vs cutting (dicing, slicing, etc...), flame management and basic tool instruction, I learned most of it working in her kitchen. When she broke her hand and I helped out in the kitchen, she was still WAY more efficient and productive than I was. WITH ONLY HER LEFT HAND.

I was determined. I was also inspired because Stef said if I can nail this recipe I have the basics DOWN for a great bread pudding. Who doesn't love bread pudding?

And who doesn't love learning for your mistakes?

I used a smaller dish, baked it for longer and (I think most importantly) I let it rise to room tempature after letting it sit overnight in the fridge. Oh, and I added blueberries and walnuts for good measure.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm. It was good.

Photos courtesy of one fabulous Sabrina. AKA my personal photographer.

Another Winn(los)er

2010-11-15T19:49:00.000-06:00

I want be more spontaneous. I want to be open to adventure, new places, people and ideas. I want to be up for anything (as long as it fits into my schedule and doesn't keep me up past my bedtime on a week night....)....

Whitney and I had dinner at Blue Koi (GO THERE if you haven't) and then wrapped up our lady friend date with cocktails. While waiting for our tab, a foursome that had been sitting next to us as the bar, made their way to the door. One of them struck up a friendly chat with me as if he and I went waaaaaay back. Since I can be smooth and charming on occasion, I played along. He was funny and clever, he thought I was funny which made him also not completely dumb.

He eventually asked if I'd meet him and his friends (2 more guys, 1 girl) at a bar across the street. I made no guarantees, I told him "Maybe." After he left, Whitney looked at me and said "You know I'm not going, right?"

She asked why I had agreed (she sooooo saw through my "maybe"). Why not? I ask. The worst that could happen is that it would be stupid and awkward, just another bad date. At best, there would be a spark. And regardless of the outcome, NOT being afraid of doing something spontaneous and unplanned was reward enough for me.

So, Whitney and I wrapped up our night, she waved "good bye and be safe" as she headed down the street to her apartment. Even under the cover of dive bar darkness, I spotted them right away. Where were my expectations? A Free Drink.

I sat down and introduced myself to:

The Guy.
The Married Lawyer Friend.
The Friend from Columbia.
The Friend from Columbia's Girlfriend.

Pitchers of beer were ordered and I chatted everyone up. The conversation was as witty and intelligent as earlier but something was "off." The Guy and I talked a bit, I could tell he was well past tipsy. The group happen to be waiting for additional friends to show up and then the partying "would REALLY begin" The Guy tells me and invites me along.

I continue to work on my beer so that I can politely, as possible, exit stage left. I applauded my courage and spontaneity, but my gut told me this guy was NOT a catch. The Guy and The Married Lawyer Friend disappear into a corner for a minute and I make conversation with the Jewish Olive Oyle looking girlfriend.

The Guy returns, takes his seat and my hand. "I need to tell you something."

"Go for it." I am completely clueless where he's headed.

"I'm married."

I glance down at his hands. No ring. I'm not surprised because I had already assessed the ring situation at the first bar, he had no ring then why would he have a ring on now?

"Are you kidding?" I asked.

"Nope. I'm married."

"Ok then, well, It was nice meeting you..." I grabbed my purse.

He stops me. "Oh, do you have a problem with that?"

"Did you just ask me if I have a problem with you being married?"

"Yeah... y'know, we can just talk."

I couldn't believe this guy. The nerve, the gall. I found him comical and sad at the same time. "Are you dense or just delusional?"

"Hahaha" douche-bag-head-toss-back "probably a little of both!"

"Well, I think they have a pill for that."

And I walked out the door.

Aunt Natty Lite

2010-11-12T18:30:00.000-06:00

Have you ever gone pee, wiped and then as you pull up your pants you realize that you had some piddle on your hand, which just transferred to your thigh and then consequently - immediately to the inside of your pants?

Yeah, me neither.

ANYWAY. I have 2 very good reasons why I'm still not providing you with hilarious, witty and brilliant posts several times a week BESIDE the fact that I am none of those things. I signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo and my sister was in town this week! And don't feel bad you guy, I've been ignoring NaNoWriMo too.

My Sister, her husband and my new nephew were all in town visiting this week. I officially became an aunt earlier this summer and have to say I totally dig the role. BONUS that I'll never be drafted for baby sitting duty since they live in North Carolina. "The Nef" is appropriately adorable. He puked and spit up just enough to remind me, though, that being adorable sometimes, just isn't enough. Something that I should have learned by now about boys in general, but it's a good reminder about babies too.

I love you and good job on making a cutie patootie baby.

This one is for realz...

2010-11-08T18:52:00.000-06:00

Today is my happy, happy birfday. My actual one.

I celebrated yesterday with my lovely lady friends. Megan, Brooke, Sabrina, Stef, Whitney, Carey, Jennie and Becky (and Liz in spirit): thank you for spending your Sunday afternoon with me. I am so sorry that my French Toast Casserole turned out soggy in the middle. I love you ALL and am so thankful to have funny, amazing, generous friends.

Also, thank you for helping me get rid of some of my shit.

In a stroke of pure brilliance, I decided to make a "reverse birthday gift" table and put out all the items that have been slowly accumulating in my give-away bin. There was a little confusion when people confused the reverse birthday gift table with the table everyone put their purses and jackets, but it all got sorted out.

Brunch was tasty, thanks again!

Oh, and Wal-mart.... I haven't even eaten all the Halloween candy I stole from the children, so please take down your Christmas display.

Scared-y Cat

2010-11-07T15:43:00.000-06:00

Sammy Davis, Jr. One cool mutha fucker. We take out his glass eye for bed time.

Flat Tire.... Continued

2010-11-03T20:23:00.000-05:00

In case you forgot how I got here... I had a flat tire and while simultaneously changing my tire (no, not a euphemism), the very young looking but still decidedly cute Roadside Assistance guy, Adam, was subtly trying to figure out if I had a boyfriend.

After telling him I didn't have a boyfriend to call for help he asked me why I didn't, then, call my husband because "there is no way some one as cute as you doesn't have a boyfriend or something." Actually, Adam, there IS a way but awww schucks, thanks.

I thought the sentiment was sweet enough, though, and after more flirtatious banter, he asked for my number.

"That is" he said "if I'm old enough."

He looked younger than me, that much I knew and in my head I was pegging him for 22.

"I'm 19."

That's well beyond legal in the state of Kansas.

"How old are you?"

You guys, NEVER have I felt old before. Never, ever... until I said "27." I know that I am NOT old but right then and there, as I was trying to shape up the 19 year old hitting on me, did I feel like I was on AARP's doorstep. HOWEVER, since age is only a number and there weren't any other cute guys changing my tire, I gave him my number. I also figured that his young age gave him less of a chance for being married, having kids or both (a surprising trend I ran into this summer; married men hitting on me). Plus he assured me that he was real mature for a 19 year old.

After parting ways, Matt and Megan's birthday dinner had been missed. I wasn't too disappointed since they where headed to one of those all-you-can-eat Brazilian Meat Buffets, which sounds like the start to a very bad joke... "a vegetarian walks into an all-you-can-eat meat buffet and..." Regardless, I had wanted to celebrate my friends' birthdays with them. (Side story: So, Matt and Megan have THE SAME birthday, which is why they always celebrate it together. Megan often tells people that one of the things the both of them bonded over when they met AGES ago was the fact they shared a birthday. Anyway, last fall at Liz's Going Away party, we were all pretty lit but apparently Megan was ON FIRE because a small group of us were talking about birthdays and Megan turns to Matt and, in complete earnest, asks "When is your birthday???" Obviously we haven't let her live that one down. But I digress....)

So.... yadda yadda yadda... we exchanged numbers, we texted, we chatted and then came date night. He told me to pick the restaurant, so I had him pick between Italian, Mexican or Mediterranean. He picked Italian so I told him to meet me at Cupini's. When we meet up and he cases the place (unfortunately they are closed on Mondays and I didn't realize it! My bad...) he says "Oh, I didn't know this was a whole in the wall place, I was expecting something like The Olive Garden."

"Uh." I didn't know how to respond. After doing the quick calculation of subtracting 23,987 points from his "Cool Account" I told him I try to support the local economy by eating at family owned restaurants.

I told him we'd go for Mexican instead so we headed to Rudy's which was 2 blocks away. I didn't tell him that it wasn't On The Border.

Adam... poor sweet.....young... Adam spent dinner talking about UFC Fighting (Minus 5,000 point) and the Twilight books (minus 1 BILLION points). Yup. Twilight. I was polite enough and didn't ralph all over him when he wouldn't shut up about them, but I eventually had to let him know that NEITHER were my cup of tea. To that he responded "Oh, that's ok. I'll get you to like them."

How quaint.

When the check came and I offered to chip in, he refused and then said, after glancing at the total "especially since you're a cheap date." (I had stopped keeping track of points a LOOOONG time before this).

I knew it wasn't all his fault, a lot had to do with his inexperience (and the fact that he was 19) and I'm not completely heartless, so when he asked if there'd be a second date - I couldn't lie. I told him "No" and to not be upset because there just wasn't a spark for me. He seemed a little bummed (I mean - c'mon, I'm a hot tamale) but then he thanked me for my honesty and said "I'm not mad at you."

Oh you would be if you knew your score in my head.

Fainting Spell

2010-11-01T20:46:00.000-05:00

Does anyone have experience training a cat to dial 9-1-1? After the events of this morning I seriously need to look into this option. Seriously. Scared me shitless.

SO, I went back to the doctor on Friday. I was still sick and the coughing and sexy-phlegm was getting ridiculous. He ran a litany of tests and when the results came back, I officially had Strep Throat. Great. I took my prescription to the closest pharmacy and ran to the library while it was filled. Since I knew my entire weekend was shot, I rented every documentary they had on Hawaii. (Obsessed? Who?? ME???)

After changing into PJs and settling in on the couch somewhere around 7pm on Friday, I didn't do a whole lot of moving until this morning, when I got into the shower to get ready for work. I didn't feel 100%, but my cough was mostly gone and my throat hurt a lot less.

Half way through, I become really fatigued. This was the most strenuous thing I had done in days, so I wasn't necessarily surprised. Then came the lightheaded-ness. Weird. The short breath rally began to freak me out. Then the blurred, white-out vision completely took me by surprise. I hung onto one of the rails in the shower and bent/knelt over, trying to catch my breath. It worked for a minute and I stood back up.

Bad Move.

Vision went completely white and there was a THUD. I don't remember falling, but I remembering going "AHHHH" and then being crumpled up in the tub, when I came to I was sweating and shivering at the same time.

What. The. Fuck. Not cool. I was sufficiently freaked out and completely aware that I was all alone and wouldn't have been found for days if I had hit my head... and the only thing I could think of was that episode of Sex And The City where Miranda is freaked out by the thought of dying in her apartment and her cat eating her.

But the good news, not to scare any of you, is that I am feeling better and even though I spent the day "off" I feel more like myself and on the road the recovery.

I promise the Roadside Assistance Guy story is up next! Probably.

Flat Tire

2010-10-31T16:25:00.000-05:00

On my way to Megan and Matt's birthday dinner, I was running just a few minutes behind. I hopped in my car and merged into traffic on Westport Road. After a few blocks I noticed the SUV to my right was trying to flag me down. I rolled down the passenger side window ready with my response - "yes, I WAS on Check, Please" but the lady instead said "Your back tire is flat!"

I THOUGHT something felt funky.

I pulled into the Jiffy Lube on the other side of the intersection. They were closed. FUDGE. For about 30 seconds I had no clue what to do, I thought I was stranded in the Jiffy Lube parking lot until they opened in the morning. Then I remembered my Emergency Roadside Assistance card in my wallet. Since it was after hours, the number on the card had me call another number. And that number had me call a third. My glimmer of hope was waning.

I finally made contact with a human being and after giving her all my information and my location, she confessed that she wasn't sure how long it would be before someone could get to me.

Instead of getting upset, I got out the owner's manual.

1. Get everyone out of the car safely.
Check.

2. Put on the emergency break.
Check.

3. Get the spare tire out.
Tricky, but I got the SOB out of there.

Somewhere in the middle of all this the Roadside Assistance Lady calls to tell me someone should be there to help me in 15 minutes. Great, but I was feeling empowered and determined I could change my own flat tire.

4. Jack the car.
Hmmmm....

I looked at all the pictures in the manual and all the stickers on the jack, and I knew I was really close to figuring it out, but I was having trouble getting the jack to... uh, jack, I guess. Since the owners manual was really adamant about how dangerous this particular step was, and I wasn't sure if I was doing it right, I was REALLY glad the Assistance Guy showed up right then.

Did I mention this was in July? I was half drenched in sweat while wearing heels and a skirt. My knees and hands were filthy and my hair was haphazardly piled on top of my head in an attempt to stay cool. So I was thrilled when he got out of the car as was a complete cutie patootie.

With all the pride of a 4 year old showing off their macaroni art, I showed him the steps I had done. ALL BY MYSELF. He was genuinely impressed I had engaged the parking break, something - he said - 90% of people don't do and since I had taken the spare out, that was just something he didn't have to do.

And then he got to the jack on the ground and just laughed. As nicely as he could.

"What? What's wrong? What did I do???"

"Well, it's upside down."

"Ohhhh..."

I'm positive he found this endearing. While working he asked "So... why didn't you call your boyfriend to help you?" Which meant he wanted to ask me out.

But I'll tell that part of the story next time.

Veggie Tales

2010-10-26T17:58:00.000-05:00

Last January I decided to cut out meat from my diet. Several friends of mine are vegetarian and I had been a pretty scant meat eater for several years. I NEVER prepared it myself. Ew. And there are a nice amount of veggie entrees at all my favorite eateries that were tasty. I knew taking the vegetarian plunge wasn't going to be too big of a shock to my system, I had long felt it was only a matter of time before I "went veg."

I am not going to go all "vegetarian propaganda" on you and preach the merits of being an herbivore, for me it's a personal choice to lead my life this way. I get shit about it from a fair amount of people and that's the most annoying aspect of it. But I take it with a grain of salt and chalk it up to the red-meat clogging the arteries to their brain to be able to recognize that this is MY choice and when thought through logically, a healthy & economical one.

"BUT what do you EAT????"

C'mon people. Beef, Poultry and Pork. I've eliminated 3 things from my diet (full disclosure, I am NOT vegan (mmmmmcheese) and I'll still eat seafood if that's the only option or I'm craving fish tacos from Los Tules - YUM). A little creativity and online research and I'm never at a loss for what to make for dinner.

The only notable areas of my life impacted are eating out, which was minimal, and eating at my parents'. My dad had a hard time grasping the idea.

"What??? You won't eat no meat? What about Chicken?"

"Nope. That's meat."

"Lamb?"

"Still meat, dad."

Baffled look.

"Tell you what, since a few of the reasons I made this choice is because I don't want the hormones/steroids/chemicals from the animal in my body, I will eat anything you catch or hunt yourself."

Needless to say, he now just keeps a box of veggie burgers in the freezer. In fact, the parents typically do more than that and always have a meat-less option for me for dinner when I come over. My parents are AWESOME. My dad, I believe, has a secret fear that I'm a lesbian and this just probably propagates his fear- but he's doing an excellent job of hiding it and is so very adorable when he calls me to give me the week's vegetarian menu.

My original intent was to see this through for at least a year and I know I'm not going to have any problem reaching that goal. And I'm going to stick with it beyond then as well. Maybe in the future I'll consider putting free-range/grass fed, locally raised, chemical & hormone free meat back into my diet, but for now I'm perfectly content not have animal flesh clogging my intestines.

Too gross?

I Wish I Was This Funny

2010-10-20T22:18:00.000-05:00

***Fixed the link!!!***

Getting my life back together after being out of commission for a week, so today's post is just a link to someone who is WAY funnier than me. This might be a bad move on my part since you all will leave me for her since she's actually talented and will make you cry-laugh.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com

You are welcome.

Sorry Megan that this isn't new to you. JUST for you, here's another picture of me in a phone booth...and BONUS.... wearing an AWESOME hat. This was 10 years ago, taken in London! This is why I don't wear hats. This and the white trucker hat fiasco. Shudder.

Sabrina's Photo Shoot

2010-10-18T18:08:00.000-05:00

I've documented the fact that my Immune System takes sabbatical from time to time. This past week was a doozy! We're going on day 7 of this wretched cold. I broke down and went to the doctor's today only to be told that they couldn't do anything for me. Can I have my $15 co-pay back then?

ANYway, to balance out my last post, I want to share some pics that Sabrina took earlier this summer. She is a fantastic budding photographer and she needed a model for an assignment of hers. And who am I to say no to a modeling assignment?

Early Sunday Morning we made our way to Harry's Table & Chairs in Westport. I had practiced my "Steel Blue" face all day on Saturday.

At one point a mom and her two young daughters walked by and stopped to watch the shoot for a minute. One of the little girls kept asking her mom who I was and if I was famous and if these pictures would end up in a magazine. I wasn't about to break this young thing's heart, so, I just acted like I couldn't hear her. Also, I couldn't help but be flattered.

This is my favorite shot. I like the juxtaposition, the framing... EVERYTHING!

Good Job Sab! You're a fantastic photographer and I can't wait for my next assignment!

Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon...

2010-10-14T17:41:00.000-05:00

There was a brief period of my childhood (age 6 to 18) when my hair was NOT better then yours. BUT my family sure could coordinate a snazzy family photo.

Is that a Casio watch? Damn straight it is. And man if those jeans are not the dopest rinse and cut for a 10 year old. I blame the ill-guided decision for the backwards hat on my sister - the other kid in the back wards cap (no, that's not a boy).

This is for all the ugly ducklings out there.

I Saw You on TV!

2010-10-12T19:47:00.000-05:00

If I bothered using tags or labels here, I'd have one named "attempts to become a Kansas City D-list celebrity." I've contributed to community radio and have appeared in a local commercial, among other things, but almost 2 years ago I started plotting my next move into the upper echelon of KC star Power. Watch your back Bryan Busby!

After catching the series premier of "Check Please, Kansas City" on KCPT I applied to be on the show. It's a local restaurant review show produced by public television, no fancy qualifications necessary, just regular people picking their favorite local eats and then reviewing them in studio. The application was simple - list your favorite restaurants across several categories then list the top 3, overall, that you'd want to review.

Food and Public Television are two of my favorite things. I wanted this. With each passing week when I didn't hear back from the producers, I became a little disheartened. Was I not worthy? Had I offended someone when I put down KC Grill and Kabob over Jerusalem Cafe??? Or even worse - had they Googled me????? After a year I had all but forgotten that I had applied (except for when I'd catch part of an episode... sting).

Somewhere in the middle of my unemployment funk, Pam the Producer emailed me saying that I had been selected.

OH HAPPY DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was excited for the entire process. She gave me info on the 3 restaurants I was to go to. It was obvious that my selection, Souperman, was the "Hip, Urban and Trendy" eatery for this particular episode.

Whitney and I had a fancy date night and went to The West Chase Grille. I took my sister to Souperman when she came into town (mmmmmmmsoup). And Sabrina and I risked life and limb (ICY roads) on the drive to Weston to have a fantastic brunch at The Vineyards.

Mid January brought filming day! I arrived with full make-up and perfect hair. In a stroke of aesthetic good luck, the two other guests and I were all wearing coordinating colors. And when they asked what kind of wine I'd like in my glass for the shot, I said "Water." I was nervous, excited and gaseous simultaneously. Doug the Host practiced saying my last name 5 times, then butchered "Natasha" on the first take. He got both names (close enough to) right the second time and after that the 4 of us settled into a nice rapport and we were able to successfully film the episode without ANY wine being spilt. SUCCESS! Pam the Producer thanked us all again and said to expect to see the episode air sometime in May.

While on a coffee date with Carey, about 2 months later, she asked "Have you heard that Souperman closed?"

"WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?"

"Yeah, Souperman closed due to some money laundering scheme. Allegedly."

"Aw maaannnn!!!! That blows."

The episode would still air, so I took comfort in that. But the segment of the show where we talked about Souperman would be dropped like a bad habit. TOTAL BUMMER.

Until I realized that's TOTALLY d-list.

Check (please) me out: http://cove.kcpt.org/video/1492154606/

How to Have the Best Hawaiian Vacation EVER in 67 Easy Steps

2010-10-07T23:03:00.000-05:00

[Results may vary. This a 100% accurate account of my vacation in early June 2010.]

1. Have your little brother and his fiance decide to get married in Maui.

2. Have your parents buy your plane ticket as a Christmas gift.

3. Discover some good friends of yours will be on the island AT THE EXACT same time as you. Buy matching floppy hats.

4. Create a "Hawaii Bucket List."

5. Finish your packing at 3:30am - just enough time to get a good night's sleep for 45 minutes before leaving for the airport.

6. Bust open the seam of your suitcase while bringing it downstairs. Then duct tape that S.O.B. to within an inch of its life.

7. Take a super cute picture of you and your mom on the plane.

8. Land in Maui.

9. Go to the store with you mom because your aunt got super sick on the plane and she needs Gatorade and jell-o.

10. Enjoy the view from the back porch of your home away from home.

11. Volunteer to take the snorkeling spot vacated by your sick aunt the next morning. EVEN THOUGH FISH SCARE THE SH!T OUT OF YOU.

12. While on the ferry to the Snorkeling expedition, you realize that you're headed to Molokini. This step should only be taken if you have been doing research on Maui before your trip and have seen pictures of this place and thought it was Freaking GORGEOUS and didn't realize that is where the snorkeling was gonna be.

13. Snorkel with REAL LIVE fishes and live to tell about it. You're such a bad ass.

14. Get super sassy and bewbilicious for the Luau/Rehearsal Dinner.

15. Fall in love with Maui, vow to move.

16. Take a magnificent morning stroll.

17. Attend your brother's wedding.

18. Wake up REALLY early the next morning to take your mom scuba diving. This is the agreement you make to be able to borrow the car that day.

19. Take your borrowed car and meet up with Lee & Sabrina in Ka'anaapali.

20. Pose with your big floppy hats.

21. Stay even after they have to leave.

22. Befriend the locals that start talking to you. Go to dinner with the group. Get their number.

23. The next night make eggplant Parmesan for your family and use crushed croutons as the breading since someone couldn't find breadcrumbs at the grocery store.

24. Meet up with the really hot local from Step 22 later that night.

25. Make out hot and heavy on the beach.

26. Take the beautiful but treacherous "Road to Hana" the next morning with your family.

27. Let fish nibble at your feet. Be proud at yourself for continuing to overcome your fears!

28. Conquer your fear of heights and jump off a rock ledge into a pool below.

29. Forget to "tuck" and do an ass/thigh-flop.

30. Bruise from it.

31. Wake up on your last FULL day and realize your bucket list isn't close to completed. Make horse back riding reservations.

32. Take a day trip to Olivine with Ren, your Hawaiian Hottie.

33. Agree to meet up with him again after he gets off work.

34. Take a moment and be SO FLIPPING THANKFUL that your trip has been magical. You're leaving in about 24 hours and a little sad about it.

35. Meet "Ren the Local" at Sugar Beach. Notice the there is a small brush fire on the side of one of the west mountains.

36. Star gaze with the local on the beach. Listen to the native legends & ancient history he knows, wish on the shooting stars you see and then cross off one of the two items on your Hawaii bucket list - and it ain't the horse back riding.

37. Bask in complete happiness.

38. Back at the house, wake up your mom to show her the fire.

39. Reflect with her about the trip, how awesome it's been, what you're thankful for (her and your family!) and admit that you kinda don't want to go home.

40. With very little sleep, drag your butt out of bed and drive 45 minutes, to another side of the island, to go horse back riding. Because Gosh Darnit!!! you're going to finish all TWO items on your list even if you have to go alone. Your plane doesn't leave until the evening so there's time to be there and back well before it's time to leave.

41. Ride a horse! But before you do that, meet Ren for coffee to say "Aloha," since saying goodbye would probably be really, really sad.

42. Call your family when you're done to tell them you'll be back in an hour but before you can get to that part, they tell you that the highway - the one you're on - is shut down from the fire. It's grown and grown and the smoke has gotten so thick and dangerous that officials had to shut down the highway.

43. Sit in traffic, stay calm. It's only noon and your family isn't leaving for the airport for another 6 hours.

44. Continue to sit in traffic but start to wish that you'd gone to the bathroom back at the Ranch.

45. 3 hours of holding your bladder WHILE LOOKING OUT INTO THE OCEAN is pretty difficult.

46. Pull your car off the side of the road. You want to stretch and not be stuck in a car.

47. After 4 o'clock rolls around take this as a sign from the Universe that you should never leave Maui and start making a list of what you need to do to stay.

48. Call your parents for the 30th time to tell them you're still not moving and you're ALMOST freaking out. But more than anything - you just want to pee.

49. Hear on the radio that the back road-mountain-highway, the one that hugs the entire perimeter of the mountain, has been diverted so that those stuck can get to the other side. You ignore the warnings that only locals who know the road should go.

50. Find a gas station and pee. Accidentally lock the key in the restroom.

51. Start your trek through the scary, windy, narrow, steep, turny, edge-of-cliff road against your parent's wishes. Tell them you don't know what else to do and that you have to at least try to get back to the house. Lose your phone signal.

52. Figuratively, run into stopped traffic. Yell "Hell NO!!!!" out loud. You're NOT about to sit in hours and hours worth of traffic again. Do a 7 point u-turn and head back into civilization.

53. Call mom. Bawling. You don't know what to do. It's almost 7pm. Everyone but her has left for the airport. She tells you everything will be ok and just to stay in touch.

54. Go to the beach. Watch the sunset. Know everything will be OK. It's OK to cry here because it's been an emotional week and day.

55. Ren calls, they've re-opened the highway.

56. Make the trek home. Traffic creeps by, but at least it's moving.

57. Become sad when you see the damage the fire has done. Beautiful Maui has been scarred.

58. Finally make it back to the house close to 10pm. Your mom tells you that the airline can't get you both a flight home for another 3 days and that the property manager said you could stay put until Friday.

59. Laugh with hysterical gratitude at the extra 3 days in paradise The Universe just gave you.

60. Go to Big Beach for Extra Bonus Day #1.

61. Watch a Meteor shower that night with your mom.

62. Go snorkeling at Honolua Bay, Hiking and back to Olivine for Extra Bonus Day #2.

63. Work on Hawaiian-Haole relations that night. Nudge Nudge wink wink.

64. Later, watch MORE shooting stars with your mom. Have her point out the Milky Way Galaxy.

65. Laundry. Packing. Say Aloha to new friends.

66. One last sunset at the beach with your mom. Rainbows appear in the surf!

67. Take a final (and very rough looking) "End of Trip" picture with your mom at airport.

Open Letter to The Biggest Loser

2010-10-06T21:43:00.000-05:00

Dear The Biggest Loser,

Please send Bob Harper or Jillian Michaels (or both!) to kick my ass. I've lost a higher percentage of body weight than a lot of your contestants (44% and counting...) and just like your contestants, I've done it without crash diets, pills, shakes or gimmicks. Unless you count that one time I had the stomach flu... I know that Bob and Jillian can't lose the weight for me, I have to do all the work my damn self. I can and will, but no champion goes it alone. After spending all my life overweight, I need someone to drag me to the skinny side.

I'm so close to my goal, but at the same time it feels unattainable. I've been working for 4+ years and I know every step, mis-step and stumble has been worth it. If you could please find it in your heart (budget) to do this great act of kindness (Awesome PR!!!), it would mean the world to me (really it would).

I could re-pay you by posting nice things about you on my blog THAT NOW HAS 17 FOLLOWERS!!!!! Holla! That is almost a big deal! So, go ahead and consider the terms of my deal and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,

MHIBTY

Girl vs. Forks

2010-10-03T20:48:00.000-05:00

There are many things I come by naturally. Wit, style and awesome hair are, without question, a few that come to mind first. Among that list, however, is NOT "A generally tidy personality." I have to work hard to maintain a neat space. My sense of order and neatness is something I am purposefully achieving. I have to consciously choose to be a tidy person.

I have to consciously choose to be the OPPOSITE of my mother. And I love my mother DEARLY. But my mom just is NOT organized. Nor does she care to be. She knows her weakness, and lives with it normally enough. In fact, tonight she told me that her coffee cup at work is a funny quip about how being unorganized is the smart way to be. She chuckled at herself.

My mom and dad, along with my aunt Pari, grandma Maheen and Cousin Ali came over to see the new place tonight. My dad had a small list of "Daddy please do." We had dinner follwed by tea with dessert. My cute little Iranian family.

I just came from the kitchen where I typically keep my silverware drawer in this condition.

This is a lifestyle I WANT to live, one that includes beautiful silverware drawers. They are clean, organized and not a complete cluster FUCK! of chaos.

My mom was in my house for less than 2 hours and left me with this.

.......nature versus nurture you guys.

Name all the kitchen utensils and I'll crochet you a custom scarf! Buttons optional.

A Second Chance

2010-09-30T20:35:00.000-05:00

I played the violin for 7 years. Between 2nd and 9th grade I fancied myself a fiddler. I enrolled in the public school system in the 5th grade, this was the grade students had the option to join either band or orchestra. Since I had already been playing for 3 years, I was the closest thing to a virtuoso my little 5th grade orchestra had seen. I could play THE SHIT out of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

So, all throughout the 5th and most of 6th grade, I was the top dog. I was the best by default. If you challenged me for first chair, you got your ass handed to you. I could out play you with my eyes closed and one arm tied behind my back. Oh that's right, I could defy the laws of physics and play the violin with one hand!

But this all changed when my orchestra mates began to hold their own and my early exposure to the instrument mattered less and less. Also, I hardly ever practiced. There were 2 girls in particular that rivaled me for 1st chair 1st Violin. We were constantly duking it out for the coveted spot and each of us probably spent an equal time on top over the course of our junior high orchestra career.

Then came High School and the game changed yet again. We were now playing with a large group and a lot of talented upperclassmen. That year the Drama department produced "Fiddler on the Roof" because one of the seniors was good enough to BE the fiddler (BTW - I was cast as Grandma Tzietle and totally rocked it). When I was told that I had made first chair (!!!) SECOND violin (???) I was torn. Seconds play the harmony, not the melody - so it's not nearly as fun. Still, first chair wasn't something to shake a stick at. But, for all intent and purposes - the second violin part is usually easier than the first... I felt like a failure.

So I quit at the end of the year. Or rather, I didn't join back up my sophomore year. Tomato Tahmahto. I thought I was too cool for Orchestra. There were several reasons why I didn't continue. All of them, I felt at the time, were REALLY GOOD ones, but none of them matter now. Or maybe they never did????

The holidays always tug at my heart strings. It's all the music. Last November I was going through my annual nostalgic period for playing... I even missed holding the darn thing, not just playing... when I met a friend of a friend, Ingrid - a real cool German chick with a PhD in music studies - who encouraged me to pick it back up again.

The week after Thanksgiving I found myself at KC Strings renting a violin and buying "Christmas Extraordinaire for Beginners," a book full of the classic Christmas Chorals. I kept telling myself that it would "be just like riding a bike." I'd immediately be able to read the music, know where my fingers were suppose to land and I'd pick up just where I left off 12 years ago.

Uh, let me just put it this way.... Twinkle Twinkle Little Star totally made me its bitch. While that might be exaggerating it a bit, needless to say - it wasn't pretty but I stuck with it. A few weeks later I had come close to "mastering" all the Christmas Chorals. A month after that I had moved on to beginner concertos. Who knew that practice made perfect?!?!??!

Ingrid had mentioned that there were probably community orchestras in the area that I could join if I ever wanted to play again. Sure enough I goggled "Kansas City Community Orchestra" and found the Kansas City Kansas Community Orchestra. I sent an inquiry email and was told just to show up and the director would put me somewhere. I just hoped that that "somewhere" wasn't the hallway.

My first rehearsal was the groups first week back after nearly a month off, so the room was hectic and loud. There were a handful of new people, the director was pointing them to where they should sit. He finally gets to me, sees my violin case and says "Our second violin section really needs more. Would you like to play second violin?"

"I would LOVE to play second violin!!!"

And sure enough, I do!

ps - we have a concert a week from TONIGHT (Oct. 7th). Let me know if you want to attend!

Natasha and The Amazing Technicolor Molar

2010-09-27T21:36:00.000-05:00

Right before I lost my job last summer, I went to the dentist. And apparently I brush my teeth with sugar-paste, because I had a few cavities that needed to be taken care of. I had NEVER had one cavity before. I scheduled a follow up visit, but I lost my insurance, so I canceled and wouldn't return until I had coverage once again.

I knew it was risky to ignore the cavities, but I couldn't afford the fillings on my own. I figured lots of Listerine and diligent brushing would stave off further decay. None of the cavities were painful, so I told myself I had some sort of built in "buffer." Until they started hurting, I could ignore them. Totally rational. Then one day I felt something abnormal in my mouth. A quick flick of my tongue - something wasn't right. Part of my back molar had fallen off. Unemployed with teeth breaking off. It was a high point in my life.

But it didn't hurt. So I kept with the obsessive rinsing and brushing with the hope that I'd have dental insurance soon enough. No additional teeth broke off and my mouth wasn't a black hole of decay and rot by the time I landed a gig with a dental plan, so I figured "good job me" and re-scheduled my Dentist appointment.

Since I'm not completely delusional, I braced myself for the worst verdict, and sure enough the doctor said I'd need a crown on that back tooth. About 2 hours and 12 needles later, I left the dentist with a temporary crown on my back molar and a numb and droopy left side of my face. I was tired, in pain and felt like I looked like Anthony Hopkins in "Legends of the Fall" after his stroke. I couldn't stop the drool running down my chin.

Later that evening, after a long nap and pain meds, I made eggplant curry. It was GOOD.

The following day, while washing my hands, again, I notice something abnormal in the back of my mouth. Unlike 3 months prior when I had FELT the abnormality, this time I SAW it. I took a closer look, and sure enough, something was WRONG.

The Turmeric from the curry had turned my temporary crown BRIGHT NEON YELLOW.

I bet you're thinking "yup, that's a bright neon yellow toof" but let me assure you that this picture does not do justice to the radio-active glow that omitted from the back of my mouth.

Thank goodness this was in the back of my mouth. And temporary.

YOU pick

2010-09-23T22:03:00.000-05:00

Two separate interactions with co-workers this week gave me pause. Both exchanged momentarily stunned me; because while I had fully understood what they were saying/doing I was also literally paralyzed because I wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

The First

The first was while I was making my salad for lunch. Something I do 4 days a week. I am fairly confident that I have a nickname around the office centering around my daily salads like "Veg-head," "Salad McLettuce McGee" or "That chick that eats a fucking salad every fucking day." So, needless to say, this is my regular lunch routine.

Where was I? Oh, ok, I'm making my salad and someone comes up to me says "Hey, can I have some of that?" With half a tomato in one hand and a knife in the other, I look up at him and could only get "uuuuuh???...." and point to my bowl of lettuce and half chopped pile of vegetables.

"Yeah can I...???"

"Have some of my lunch???" I ask him.

My boss, who has witnessed the entire scene play out, walks away laughing and burst up when she rounds the corner. "Her SALAD!!!" I hear her cackle.

The Second

Chatting (via IM) with a co-worker about totally work related stuff then it takes a "knotty" turn. (Paraphrased)

Me: blah blah blah... computer settings! yadda yadda yadda Software Testing ROCKS!

Her: So... Boyfriend? Girlfriend?

Me: Neither.

Her: You go girl! You're an strong, smart, independent woman and you don't need a man! Except to reach things up high.

Me: That's why I bought a step stool!

Her: ROFL

Me: :)

Her: So, I have someone I could send your way. He's super nice. But....

Me: But?

Her: How do you feel about ropes?
Like handcuffs.
I know some weird people.

Me: Have you read "The Marketplace?"

SOOO... can't decide which was more bizzare. My vote is for the guy that asked me for part of my lunch WITHOUT even offering me half of his pb&j.