For Real

Looks like it's going to be a chili pepper Thanksgiving this year, Tucson.

For real

I almost DIED this morning!

I woke up early early early so I could drive in rush hour traffic, hop on the rush hour metro, switch trains and meet Lisa at Union Station for her eight hour layover. I was all the way in the left lane on 395 going north when I see a red pickup truck riding up against the rail to the right. All the sudden the truck hangs a SHARP left, cuts across four lanes of traffic, and T-bones the car DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME. Both the cars spin and crash into the rail. Everybody in the left lane comes to a stop and a car pulls up in the right lane, left side all dented in, and a man gets out and starts yelling at the guy squeezing out his nearly immobile driver side door. The guy who was hit got out and immediately pulled out his cell and I spent the next five minutes trying really hard to get around them.



This is the third car accident I've been bystander to! Could I be cursed?


Watch out!

To add to the bitching...

I had two people last night tell me point blank they liked my hair better when it was long.

Both within 4 minutes of each other.




One of them I didn't even realize I knew.

I had the most uncomfortable day at work today.

To give you an idea...

How it started:

I get into the car with the girl I've never worked with before and she asks me how my weekend was.

Me: Really good. I went to my cousins wedding.

Her: I went to a funeral.


And how it ended:

Some dude: Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I saw you earlier and thought you were a BOY!

Me: Why would you tell me that?

Some Dude: It's cause of your hair.

Me: You're not very charming.

So True!

Some chubby hipster found my blog by googling "oversized skinny t-shirt."

Tyra Banks: Media Empress

Tranny: I'm a post op transsexual.

Tyra: (interrupting to explain to the audience) So that means you have nothing down there.

Tranny: (pause) There's something down there. It's the same thing you have down there.

Tyra: (Pause) Oh... Well... (immediate subject change).




I shouldn't stay up so late.

My new favorite game

Drink every time you see a celebrity on the Planet Green channel.




I wonder if it counts as community service?

You're fucked up like me on the weekends.

I'm quietly sitting at the kitchen table this morning when I hear the sound of a loud truck. Because I'm 12 and expecting a Wii to come in the mail any day now, I jump up and run to the front window.

Outside a dump truck comes to a stop. The backend rider flings a snake from the truck into my front yard and hops off after him. The man then grabs a plastic snow shovel and proceeds to beat the living shit out of the snake. Using the blade end of the shovel he is clearly trying to chop the head off, but because it's plastic all he seems to be doing is breaking bones.

"Jesus Christ." I say out loud.

Naturally my mother comes over.

"What's he doing? Is he killing that snake? Where did it come from? What's he doing?"

The snake is barley moving, but not dead. Since the plastic shovel isn't working he returns to the truck and pulls out a metal ended one. It's much heavier and he hits the snake once more in the head. Then, just for kicks, he goes along the length of the nearly still body, leaving visual divots as the shovel crushes ribs and back bone against the concrete sidewalk. Satisfied, he jumps back on the truck and drives away.

Outside the snake is still for a moment. We soon realize his is paralyzed, but not dead as the delicate tip of his tail slowly rises. He carefully wags it back and forth, the very tip flops over so it's nearly grazing the concrete. Eventually the tail lays down and the snake makes one last effort, squeezing his entire body and arching about an inch off the ground. He finally relaxes and lays still.

My mother and I close the plantation shutters and return to the interior of the house.

***

That night myfather threw the snake into a creek behind a neighbor's house while my mother made spaghetti for family dinner.

I opted for a sandwich instead.

Feeling Eggy?

OH MY GOD



I absolutely have to get this dog:



"Lulu belonged to a special and gracious lady who cared deeply for the plight of homeless animals. She recently passed away leaving Lulu an orphan. This equally wonderful canine was born blind, we think, as she is so well-adapted and behaved...she listens without telling :-)"

And then this one as my replacement adorable dog when the first one dies of old age or possibly (let's be honest) minor neglect.


"What a COOL dog Pongo is!!! Pongo is about 20 months old and came to us as a stray, apparently he was dumped out in the country and left to fend for himself! This dog has the most wonderful personality, he is very good natured and very out going! He is really good with all people!"




What a COOL plan.

NOVA gives a fuck

It's early and I'm taking the kitty to the vet for a few shots and a bit of a feel up. On the ride home I pull up behind a big SUV with these two bumper stickers stuck up next to each other:



I would have thought it was hilarious and brilliant had it not been for the 9/11 shrine lined up on the other side.





Ps. Martha Stewart totally just named dropped Canyon Ranch... Bourgie.

What would Bukowski do?

I had two similar and rather surprising(annoying) run-ins with camera phones recently.

Last Thursday I was working outside at a catering event in Reston. There was a bit of a lull between the waves of people and I was just standing there staring at the parking lot. Off in the distance I saw an older man pull a briefcase out of his car and a cell phone out of the briefcase. As he walked towards me he held the phone out in front of him, squinting at the little screen. He pointed it at me as he walked by and into the building.

About twenty minutes later (amazingly during ANOTHER lull) he comes out and pulls out the phone again. This time he walks right up to me and holds the camera steady in front of me.

"Look. Smile. It's a camera. I just got it. It holds 100 minutes."

"Are you going to take 100 minutes of this?"

Then he walked away.

***
The next night I was out with my sister and two other girls. The four of us were stopped at a crosswalk when I looked at the car next to us. Inside there was a 20-something man(dude), his passenger window rolled all the way down so he could lean across and stick his camera phone out for an unobstructed picture.


"I think that guy is filming us."

He was unfazed.

"That guy is filming us."

I stared and pointed right at him. He was all of ten feet away. Everybody looked just as the light turned. The man creeped slowly (painfully slowly) away, eyes still on the camera phone until we were out of sight before the four of us continued to our party.

***

Not too long after I got this message from a Dove chocolate:


Since I always believe/follow the written advice of all of my snack foods, I am beginning to think perhaps it is time to take alias blogging to the next level.

Alias living?!






Perhaps not.

My Dad loses his shit everytime this commercial comes on:

I love it.

Who do we know...

that should own this dog?

Am I the only one who though Jessica Simpson's meat t-shirt was a hilarious and uncharacteristic sex joke?



Guess so...

PETA's Top 5 Reasons Only STUPID Girls Eat Meat

Narcissism <3s consumerism

Exhausted my Googling my own name (yet not ready to let go of such an easy and wonderfully self-absorbed form of entertainment), I decided it was time to branch out.

Tonight I Amazon searched my own name.

And...


The Tokidoki Carina Cactus Cat



Carina fly fishing reels (complete with hovering Carina logo)


Carina the vacuum cleaner




Carina the oil rubbed brass finished single sconce

Carina the nebula poster
Carina the tropical cyclone poster
Carina the tropical bay resort poster







Carina the multiple DVD player stand

and finally a fake pink street sign that says "Carina's hole."




I need $1,143.

I feel like making a paper chain countdown

I just found out that I will be back in Iowa for the Iowa State Fair this summer.



I am so excited.

Defense

Almost the entire first floor of my parents house is this same hardwood...



I'm a little worried.

I learned a long time ago that for me one of the hardest parts of moving is getting used to a new kind of 'dirty.' Dirty being the natural state of a place and when you're not used to it, it just feels like the element is sticking to your skin. In Tucson it was the dust, in VA Beach it was the smell of low tide and the creek in the back yard, in Cedar Rapids it's definitely the smell (though nobody knows just what it reminds them of), in DC it's the swampy humidity, and, for me, in Iowa City it's the bugs.


While I am a firm believer that cockroaches, ants, and those fake ladybugs that travel 400 deep and bite(?!) are God's gift to the Raid Company and should be treated accordingly, I've got a bizarre hold up about killing spiders. I don't like spiders. I don't like them near me, looking at me, in my house, or webbing up my stuff. So (as long as its not one of those giant brown spiders which I swear are big enough to have a personality and possibly a job and pet of his own) I get a paper. I hold it out in front of them and those spiders that can be convinced to walk forward onto the sheet get a free trip to the garden or, if it's nasty outside, into the bushes at the base of my window.

Those that refuse a change in surface,however, perhaps too stubborn or shy, eventually do meet the paper as I use for cleanup after flattening their little bodies against the wall or hardwood floor.