PSPRTB

Spring and some other stuff

Princess Sparklepants — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 14:57:00 GMT

It is going to sound cheesy, but I freaking LOVE to live where I live. South Louisiana, you embrace me with your balmy breeze, your pelican fly-bys, your corrupt politics. Seriously, there is at least one day each week that I honest-to-God wake up exhilirated that it wasn't just a dream, I really do live in the best place on Earth. I love it here.

This morning, I noticed trees with buds. !. I'm so happy, hello Spring, ahhhhhhhhh, short-sleeves and shorts on the weekends. Lying outside with my iPod and napping in the yard (yes, sorry, wearing a tube top and shorty shorts, but the yard is fenced in, so at least that's something).

I am particularly partial to tulip trees, but I'll take even the hairy mimosas, the barely-budded crepe myrtles. Whatever, man. Spring is here.

I seem to be forgetting that torential rain storms are likely in the afternoons, that mosquitos WILL give me encephalitis and/or West Nile, and that Round One of LoveBugs2010 is coming soon. None of that matters. Spring is here.

In other news, a quick roundup:

1) Daiquari Cafe, a bar frequented by me at age 17, for "Beat the clock" on Tuesdays, primarily involving digestion of dozens of cherries soaked in Everclear (shudder), followed by a large "Attitude Adjustment" (shudder again), has not changed at all. We stopped in at one to sing karaoke and celebrate my cousin Lola's wedding on Saturday, we being Husband, me and H. It was fantastic. Yes, I did sing me some Olivia Newton John, of course.

2) Mike the Sixth is not MY Mike. Mike the Fifth was, but he died in 2007. Regardless, and this might be evil to say, but Mike VI is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen in my life. Do you live in a place where you can go visit a tiger any time you want, for free? Do you? I do.

3) Pumpkinhead sleeps with a bunny, a ratty light blue-gray nappy stuffed toy, some junk (of course - they never fall in love with the pretty things) - every single night. Last night, right before bed, bunny fell into the toilet. That's all I am going to say about that, except to mention that Husband was at work so it was pretty much on me to fix the crisis. So I did. I'm not going to talk about it (I might be a bit scarred).

4) I finished Geek Love, and I STILL think I read that before, but it was good, worth the re-read. Risten. Whatever. I had one credit left on my audible account and I thought long and hard before plunging in and buying "The Help", and oh, lordy, do I not regret that. I bought it two days ago and am already almost six hours in. READ this, y'all. Or Risten to it, whatever. It's GREAT.

5) My boss called in sick yesterday. Related, I think I can maybe learn to cook by playing "Cafe World" on Facebook.

6) I kind of didn't work out at all last week, I mean, at all, but I'm back on the chain gang this week. Ran 3.2 yesterday... boxing and weight work this morning. Still, my mother told me yesterday that I look like I have lost some weight (I KNOW), and I have, though it is tough to say how much. 8ish pounds? 10? Something like that. Since Christmas, so that's pretty good. Just a couple of pounds a month, and my goal was a pound a week, but still, whatever. I look good (er), and I am happy with this. Running again today, and every day this week, prepping for my 5K In May which is actually 2 miles in April (but that doesn't rhyme). Pretty stoked, honestly.

7) I miss Janie. Living here does not afford me much talk-on-the-phone time, and I haven't talked to her in ages and I miss her! Just wanted to let it be known. I'm scheming to go to Georgia for Easter, so maybe, maybe maybe... maybe I will get to do that and see her then. Keep all your fingers (and toes) crossed that I can make that work.

8) IDOL. Sucks this season. Admit it.

9) Pwoject Wunway. Does not suck this season, though I do not yet have a clear favorite.

10) TOP CHEF. Needs to come back on.

11) Dead Man Walking was filmed in the town where I live (and at Angola, not where I live) and my mother knows Sister Helen Prejean (not because of living here, rather because my mother was also working with the Department of Corrections when the whole DMW thing went down). Yesterday, I met a woman whose sister-in-law was one of the survivors of one of the guys on Death Row who Sister Helen counciled. My My My. So that's what I am googling today. Have a happy day everybody!

Five Fun Little Things

Princess Sparklepants — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 17:07:00 GMT

1. Just a little while ago, there was some dude videotaping himself talking in front of the little lake by my building. WHAT a WEIRDO. He would tape himself (we knew he was talking by the arm gestures) for several minutes, stop, walk over to the camera on the tripod, review footage, film again. We speculated on what he was doing. A commercial? Public service announcement? He was wearing a hoodie. We spent several minutes shouting things like, "Drugs are whack, Jack!" and "Be cool, stay in school!" But we may never know the truth. Then (because there is publicly assisted housing directly across the street) we decided he was proposing to his wo-man:
"Baby look at this lake! This be all yours, the view you wake to e'ry day. Whey they don't be at work, we can swim and fish and stuff. Baby, I make you the happiest laday in all the world if you just say yes..."

We are for sure going to h-e-double-hockey-sticks.

2. Trying to re-embrace my Lent thing, what with the cussing.

3. Husband took over the tax duty, after I actually cried because the stoopid HR Block online programmy thingee didn't have a place for me to input my Georgia withholding, and so it thought I owed money to Georgia, and I SO DO NOT and it was horrible and stressful and awful and I had to cry and have a big, overblown panic attack, because THAT, folks, is what money does to me. Money is a jerk.

4. My neck, it hates me, I don't know what its deal is, but this morning, on day 3 of a pulled muscle, I reached for the Snooze Button, and I heard/felt *pop*pop*pop* and oooooooohhhhhhhhhGoooooooooodwhyyyyyyyyyyyy all over again. Ibuprofin and yoga do seem to help a little bit, but jeeez. I mean, my whole head is jutting forward because OW OW OW OW OW! For real! I blame taxes. And Texas.

5. On April 12, my boss is taking us all to this. Not so much looking forward to that. I will enjoy making fun of it, though, and I suspect that it will fully either convert me into a conservative ~~blowhard~~ reformist, or else it will push my over the edge of liberalism into full blow communism. Laura Bush for the win!

That's all. Happy weekend, loveys!

Fun with shots!

Princess Sparklepants — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 15:11:00 GMT

Have I mentioned before, how much I enjoy going to the doctor? Yes? No? Implied it, maybe?

Well, it's true. I effing LOVE to go to the doctor. I love love love it. I know that's weird, and I don't know why. Maybe because she makes me feel better. Maybe because she has kind, sympathetic eyes. Maybe because the inch-thick folder that she carries in with me details my crazy better than anything else in the world, and yet, she still has kind, sympathetic eyes.

Ahhh, Dr. Cindy. You are the best.

Yet, here is the problem. Dr. Cindy does not live in South Louisiana. Not for nothing, I tried to convince her to relocate, but she wasn't interested (actually I did see some yearning in her eyes... I know she must regret not getting to hang with me at least monthly anymore).

And I don't have a doctor here (yet). I do have insurance, I don't know what the hold-up is, but...

What if they won't like me? What if they ~~recognize~~ think that I am ~~a bit of a nutjob~~ somewhat anxious? What if they won't be nice to me and make me cry?

I'm not sure I am ready to take that chance. All this being said, I have not been to the doctor in over seven months. SEVEN. And this is madness. Sheer, unadulterated madness.

My neck hurts (that danged pulled muscle, again), but yoga helps. I haven't really (this is crazy talk) gotten sick here. My lady parts are all in order. I don't take any meds that need refills (yet).

And I'm hoping for a visit to Georgia soon. Perhaps I can drop in on Dr. Cindy while I am up there, so we can catch up.

(I honestly think she would groan aloud if she saw me walk into her office, but I really enjoy this visual)

Taxes make me either want to vomit or take happy pills.

Princess Sparklepants — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 05:05:00 GMT

I'm going with option B.

All I know is, you're supposed to press on the gas thingee and it's supposed to go forward.

Princess Sparklepants — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 14:50:00 GMT

It would seem to run in the family. I am, as it were, a donkey. Perhaps a donkey's bohonkus, even.

This morning, not even an hour ago, we got in the car to head over to Pumpkinhead's daycare. Everything was great, we sipped on orange juice and jammed out to "Don't Stop Believing" ("I don't wike to sing to this song, I just wike to wisten to it, but you can sing it," he said.) All was fine.

We got to the daycare in about 3 minutes (it's a mile from our house). I stopped the car and turned it off, and tried to pull out the keys, but they wouldn't budge. Figuring they were jammed or something, I tried to restart the car and go through the whole process again. The car would not start.

Squelching panic, I took the child inside and checked him in, returning to my car. Tried to start it again. No luck. Fully panicking now, I tried to call my husband. No answer. I texted him, "call me 911." I called my dad. No answer. Swallowing back tears of frustration at being stuck in the parking lot of a daycare, I called 411 and got Husband's work number. Called that.

"I'm sorry, I need to speak to (Husband) - it's an emergency!"

Two seconds and he was on the phone.

"Ohmygod the car won't start and I can't take the key out and it's broken and like the ignition switch or something is stuck and ohmygod what am I supposed to do - hold on one second -"

I put the car in "Park".

"Never mind, sorry. Everything's fine. Have a good day."

Re-effing-tarded, and I mean that in the truly developmentally delayed way, not some kind of insulting slur.

I am pretty sure they ought to not issue drivers' licenses to people like me.

At least I am cute. A cute Donkey's Bohonkus.

(the good news is, my car is not broken.)

Lessons from Date Night

Princess Sparklepants — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:03:00 GMT

1. Acme Oyster House is not the kind of place to wear high heels. Also, they do not have steak.

2. The one laser tag place on the Northshore closes at 10:00.

3. Bowling in Slidell is an adventure all of its own, but - and this is a Big But - there IS a hair style place at the bowling alley. Let me pause there for a minute.

...

I KNOW.

The Macarena was playing as we walked into the place, which had at least a third of the town's entire population in it, and let me just say this... not the best 1/3, if you know what I am saying. I think some inbreeding has taken place. But they sure do know how to do the Macarena.

Additionally, we could not bowl, in that we had no reservation (I KNOW) and we didn't have four people, so we were sent on our way... but we didn't find this information out until the man behind the counter had finished doing the Macarena. I KNOW.

4. Paranormal activity probably does happen, I think, I mean, I think it could. My husband and his aunt experienced a ghosty moment in a house she used to have. I was awakened night after night after night by a whispered, "Hey," in one apartment, always getting out of bed and going into Beanie's room, assuming that it was him and he needed something, only to find him soundly asleep. But my whisperer was hardly menacing - nothing frightening at all - and Husband wasn't scarred for life or anything. This all being said, the movie? Eh. Whatever. At first, I kinda liked it, what with the little movements and thumpy steps, that was all good. It got a little too weird and not scary later, though. I am glad that I watched it, and I am equally glad that I did not pay to do so.

As an aside, Janie, my mom and I went on a "ghost tour" of the French Quarter one time, and saw nothing. NOTHING. But we did enjoy the drinky stops along the way, of which there were several.

5. Sometimes the perfect date night has nothing to do with laser tagging or bowling or steaks. Sometimes, it's just all about the company, and the perfect ending is watching a movie in the living room, sharing spaces on the gigantic l-shaped sectional (so nobody has to actually touch if they don't want to), and being kinda nappy.

I had a fun date night.

This is what propelled me to do an hour of aerobics BEFORE work today.

Princess Sparklepants — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 15:53:00 GMT

"Hello, Thank you for calling [Local Catholic School], how can I help you?"

"Um... I'm calling about a notice I saw... for a... 2 mile... race, in... *gulp*... April?"

"Oh, sure! What can I tell you about it?!"

"Um... is it too... competitive? I mean, you see, it's maybe going to be my first race, and I kind of want to know what I am getting into."

"Well, let's put it this way. Bringing up the rear is usually a line of mommies with baby carriages."

"I think I can beat that. And it's, what? $10?"

"Yep! And that includes the t-shirt!"

So I did it. April 17. Right now, I have the urge to say EAT THAT B-WORDS, but it's Lent, so I can't.

2 miles is nothing, y'all. I have been maintaining 3.2 (!) with very, very little walking. I'm going to be fine. I just have to stop myself from picturing winning. I will NOT be winning. Only goal is to finish. Don't care how long it takes. Don't care if the stroller-mommies beat me (of COURSE that is a lie). It's just about finishing.

My first race! YEAH!

OOOOOH, SECRETS!!!

Princess Sparklepants — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:22:00 GMT

Music Secrets
I think Eric Clapton is boring. I know, I KNOW, I'm sorry, I just killed my father, but it's true. ESPECIALLY Tears in Heaven. Can I appreciate the angst? Sure. Do I really care? Not really. I mean, I do, but... come on. It's not like I'm going to be able to go give Uncle Eric a big hug, so it's not really beneficial for me to dwell on his loss very much, you know? My only connection with that song that I actually like is its use in the movie "Rush", which I do happen to like. Anyway, I can certainly appreciate his musical "genius" and such, it's just not my thing. Likewise, I cannot STAND Contemporary Jazz, a genre which was spoon-fed to me from age 19 to age 23, to the point where I willingly, on purpose, intentionally went to hear Michael Hedges concerts and grooved. Ugh. I'm sorry to all you jazz lovers; again, I can appreciate the musicality, but I so bad do NOT want to listen to that music. Likewise, Johnny Cash (I know, I know, I KNOW). God, I feel so cleansed. I had no idea the weight this was on me!

Food Secrets
I have never in my life eaten the foods that I claim to hate the most. For example, I have never ever ever EVER eaten an eggplant, a cabbage that was not purple, or liver. And, I can safely assure you that I never will. That being said, I have eaten ONE pickle to my knowledge (that was one too many), and have stuck a pinky into sour cream once or twice, but I typically avoid any white soft solid. Nothing is grosser to me than mayonnaise. I don't eat salad dressing. I know it's weird, but that is who I am.

OCD Secrets
I make these little rituals in life. Have done this forever, actually. I used to wear dresses on Wednesdays (not anymore). I used to - literally - brush my hair 100 strokes every morning. I also used to make my gums bleed in a little bit of weirdo self-mutilation, but I try to avoid this sort of crazy these days. Now, though, I have other, newer habits, namely the way I begin my work day. When, like today, I actually have to perform work, it totally chaps my behind because it pushes back my schedule. My vigorous, vigorous schedule, including Facebook-ing and checking Google Reader. I am such a freak.

Television Secrets
I would rather watch a documentary about King Tut's childhood (based on Forensic DNA evidence!) than just about anything, but it DOES create a problem when there is ALSO a special about UFOs over Phoenix, and I am trying to go to sleep anyway, but both these things are fascinating. Likewise, I will probably remain awake through most of a history show about the evolution of cats OR (AND) the dust bowl. I am a tee vee nerd, and I admit it. I have not watched a sitcom in months, would prefer to listen to a book while I knit or whatever, but boy-howdy am I ever a sucker for documentary shows. LOVE LOVE LOVE them, and they make me feel smart. That all being said, I will happily "settle" for "Axe Man", "Dirty Jobs" (Mike Rowe, meow!!!!), "Deadliest Catch" (Mike Rowe, meow, again, plus, I love you, Captain Phil!!!), or the like. "Reality" shows about stuff that will NEVER happen in my real life, and I love love love it. One thing, though, to note: I do not like "How it's made". This is 100% guaranteed to put me to sleep, which is why Husband regularly puts it on when we go to bed. I have only survived the opening credits twice, and due to that, I do know how to make a surfboard and a crayon.

I think that's enough bean-spilling for today. Your turn, what is YOUR secret?

Bird-uh

Princess Sparklepants — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 18:12:00 GMT

I had a whole, entertaining post going here, involving pelicans and other Louisiana awesomeness, but the stupid software keeps eating it, and I've had enough of trying to re-do and re-do and re-do, so here. This is all you get.

Visuals make everything so much easier, don't you agree?

All in all, I am feeling pretty awesome about my Audobon like skillz right now, so I'm going to stop while I am ahead.

Happy Spring, everybirdy.

Lessons from Geocaching

Princess Sparklepants — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 16:28:00 GMT

1. The local police force are nice folks who enjoy waffles and would like to go geocaching with you.

2. You are not allowed to pee in the bushes behind Lowes.

3. The police won't run you off as long as you are not peeing in the bushes behind Lowes.

4. Bunnies are cute.

5. Bushes don't make noise all by themselves.

6. That thing that looks like mud is actually a swamp in disguise.

7. Tennis shoes stay wet longer than they ought to.

8. Even two very bright flashlights don't make it easy to find a tiny box in the woods.

9. This town is disgusting with trash.

10. Bugs don't taste very good, and it is easy to gag when you think about one being caught in your throat.

11. Mourning doves look menacing in bushes in the dark.

12. Decrepit Burger Kings are creepy.

13. I suck at geocaching, but I like tramping in the woods after dark.

14. You look suspicious if you wear a hot pink parka, camo pants, and a black knitted cap around Lowes. And if you look like you are peeing.

15. Sometimes, it takes more than one try.

Just a few thoughts on this that and th'other

Princess Sparklepants — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 15:32:00 GMT

1. We went Geocaching. I know, I recognize that this is the height of nerdiness, that I might as well rip up my cool card and set it on fire, but, hell. It was kind of pretty out, and I didn't want to be inside, and I thought that this would be something Beanie and Pumpkinhead and I could do together (Husband was at work). As it turns out, I couldn't convince Beanie to try it, but Pumpkinhead was enthusiastic about "tweasure" hunting, so what the heck.

We found two treasures. Out of three. We are badass.

We will be doing this again.

2. It's Ash Wednesday. Time to give something up for Lent. I kind of forgot that started today, so I'm going to say that my give-up will start after I go to church tonight. I'm going to give up cussing again.

Yeah, I know.

Seriously.

STOP LAUGHING AT ME.

3. My boss left me a voice mail that she was going to be in around 10:00, saying that she would be late because she "stayed up too late celebrating Mardi Gras with my husband." Um, okay. Please let it be noted that she usually doesn't arrive until around 11:00, anyway. Hopefully "around 10:00" means "around 2:30".

4. Watching Mardi Gras parades on tee vee is no fun at all.

5. Listening to Geek Love, and I keep having this feeling I've read this before. Did I, any of you that might know? I mean, I don't know what happens next, but every time something does happen, I am all, yes, of course that is what happened.

6. Knitted a hat, mittens and 1/2 of a yoga sock. One yoga sock is complete, so I almost have a set. The hat is great. The mittens are even better. AND THEY ARE WOOL. They are for Pumkinhead, and he loves them.

7. Yes, I did say Geocaching. Shut. Up.

8. Shut the Eff Up (I haven't gotten ash-smeared yet).

Peace out!

Mardi Gras 2010*

Princess Sparklepants — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 16:38:00 GMT

Oh, Lordy. I am too old for this.

It's the first February that I've lived in Louisiana (South Louisiana, even) since 1993. I spent almost a whole year here in 1992-1993, but prior to that, I lived here only from 1975 to 1976, a period of time I do not even recall, in that I still shat my pants.

In 1993, Mardi Gras week, I had no vehicle and lived in Baton Rouge, and I was tired, and I chose to skip Mardi Gras. Yes, you heard me. I did not go to Mardi Gras.

That all being said, I've had a few years here and there for Mardi Gras, notably 1991, wherein me and our two foreign exchange students (my parents were nuts) were driven down by my mother, given beers by my cousin Noey, and enjoyed ourselves fully, and in something like 2003ish, wherein Beanie and I drove down for the weekend to mooch off my brother and his wife for the weekend.

All awesome.

This year, though, I really had no plans to do Mardi Gras. I mean, Northshore parades have been running for a month (as you know), and I've enjoyed those fine. No need to go across the lake, really, right?

EXCEPT...

School got cancelled on Friday (because it was raining and 38 degrees, so certainly, school is inappropriate). The daycare closed, too, so I got out of work (Thank you, Lord and Rain-God). So... I called my brother and told him game on.

He came and picked up me and Pumpkinhead around 2:00 (Beanie declined to go freeze his nutsack off in New Orleans, preferring to Nerd Out in front of his computer in his jammies). We trekked down to New Orleans in his little jeep, and hung around his hotel room for a little while, PHead, McBasket, Benny and me. After a bit, we went to get something to eat, then made our way to a corner where we would watch the parades. It was cold, but we had prepared for that, and we were all okay. It was fun... most of the folks around us were supportive of the two little boys and made sure they were weighed down with beads. I saw no bare breasts, so no explaining needed to happen.

H's parade was really late, and the bebes were tired by then, but we made sure we got to see her, and she threw us some awesome throws. Actually, we really caught a lot at that parade in general. It was my favorite.

I drove my brother's jeep home to my house, getting home just before 2:00 in the morning. Nuts.

The next morning, I awoke to my mother's frantic doorbelling, waking me to tell me that my brother needed his car. After some discussion, it was decided that the boys and I would trek back down to New Orleans and watch a couple of parades with my family again. I was tired, but nothing compared to H - SHE didn't get to the hotel until 4am!!!

Anyway, so we did that, after circling for parking for what seemed like hours, and found Ben and his friends. They had a really nice area all blocked off for their gang, AND they had a way for us to go inside Chase Bank to go pee. PERFECTION. It wasn't as cold, and we were able to get both boys to sit on the ladder Ben had bought for them.

You can't tell from this picture, but they were six feet off the ground, and that's Ben behind them, in the spot I usually had, which is shocking, but it worked out pretty nice. Aren't they cute with their red gloves?

Here's the one picture I took of a parade. It maybe gives an idea of just how pretty the city is, the floats are, and the general activity is. You never can see the nasty grundgy dirt in pictures of Mardi Gras.

It was all fun, but I am still exhausted. Yesterday, I realized I mis-laid my phone and it turned out to be in my brother's jeep, in Baton Rouge. Sigh... so I drove up there to get it, because I am a slave to my blue Debbie Gibson phone.

H texted me a little while ago, inviting me to go to Cajun Mardi Gras in Mamou with her (they chase chickens, I shit you not, and it sounds awesome), but I think I am going to pass. I am just zonked...

It was a great weekend, though. I am really glad I got to do Real Mardi Gras on my first year back at home. This time it felt like I belonged, I wasn't some loser tourist from, oh, Arkansas or Connecticut or Atlanta, like I've always been before. This time, Mardi Gras was at home.

And this year, I get to be off work on Mardi Gras.

But not Presiden'ts Day. How lame.

Funny things said this weekend:

"It's Mardi Gras, baby. Everybody looks like Flav-a-Flav."

"Otherwise, I would have stayed home knitting all day. Thank you for helping me reclaim my thirties."

(I asked Phead if he needed to Potty, and McBasket heard me)
Ben: "You just made V. pinch his dick."
Me: "I have that affect on lots of men."

Perhaps you had to be there.

Updated: *Yes, I did originally write 2009. Because I am a donkey.

Nobody better sleet on my parade

Princess Sparklepants — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 19:15:00 GMT

It has been sleeting for the last two hours. Yes, you heard me.

That being said, the ground is perfectly dry.

FUCK, LOUISIANA, COME ON. This is the perfect opportunity for me to get out of work for a few days, and, while I enjoy my job, who wouldn't appreciate a freebie or two? I for sure would. FOR SURE.

My H. is riding in the Krewe of Muses parade, which was supposed to be tonight. This is a parade where the signature float is shoes. SHOES, PEOPLE. You heard me correctly. Due to the inclement weather, the parade has been postponed to tomorrow, and while I know that I will thoroughly freeze my ass off down there, it is much more likely that I will be at that parade tomorrow than today, so this is very, very good news. AND, it looks like my brother will drive us, which means that I can not have to worry about parking or any such nonsense. I have no patience for nonsense.

That being said, I may have mentioned that there was a Superbowl Parade on Tuesday; the reports are that 800,000 people attended that parade. Think about that for a minute. 800,000. Eight hundred thousand. In 2007, there were approximately 550,000 people that lived in Atlanta (not counting the metro area, which brought that number up to 5.2 Million). In March, 2009, there were just over 300,000 people who lived in New Orleans (not counting "metro", even though it's called "greater" here instead of "metro".) Every fucking resident of Jefferson parish, and a shit-ton from the Florida parishes, Orleans parish, Mississippi, etc. - all of those people came out. I heard tell that people came down from Shreveport for the parade. This is all effing unbelieveable to me. People were 30 deep in several places. Now, tell me how, if you are behind 30 other people, you can really see a parade. Or catch something. Hunh uh. My seat at that parade beat theirs. I was on my couch.

Anyway, so Mardi Gras weekend is upon us, bearing down like the sleet-clouds above. As if. Parades in Louisiana, you've heard, are different than everywhere else. Better. I mentioned to my mom that I wouldn't have been able to catch anything at the Saints Parade. "So what," she said, "The Macy's Day Parade* doesn't even throw anything."

"That's lame," I said.

*yes, she calls it that, too

Here's your discussion topic: Do you love parades? Why do I love parades? WHY WHY WHY? Is it because of the crap that they throw? Is it my secret desire to ALWAYS dance in the street? Or is it just that I love parades in a Judy Garland, Meet Me in St. Louis kind of way? Discuss.

Uh, yeah, so is your mom Lithuanian? That's cool...

Princess Sparklepants — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 17:10:00 GMT

What the fuck, y'all?

Sharkfoot strikes again.

Him, just now: "Uh, hey, is your mom German? Or is it your dad?"

What the fuck???

Me: "Um, my dad... my maiden name was [insert highly German name from Hogan's Hero's Here, yes, I know nothing, that one]. Why?"

Him: "Nothin'. Just wonderin'."

What the fuck???

Me: "Um, my mom, she's like more of a mutt... what made you think I was German?"

Him: "I can just tell."

ummmmm...

Now, granted, folks, I am germanic-looking. I have light brown hair and a bumpy nose and blue-ish eyes. I am olivey, but not dark. I am germanic. AS ARE MOST AMERICANS, AM I RIGHT??

(as an aside, this has happened to me before: One time, a complete stranger approached me and asked me if I was German or Austrian. Because I am a compulsive liar in these sorts of situations, I corrected them and told them I was Swiss. I wish - GOD HOW I WISH - that I had corrected them and told them I was Laotian or Mongolian or from Sri Lanka, but no. Still, Swiss? What the fuck is wrong with me??)

(and, there was that one time that I walked into the little United Methodist church in Georgia, and my super-awesome-friend Garen who had not met me yet thought to herself, "why is this Jewish girl coming to our church", and it's true, I really do look Jewish, if one can look like a particular faith, although I suppose the Jewish people could be considered a race, and technically, in that case, I AM, since I am a child of God, right?)

Anyway.

Then sharkfoot just walked away, and I'm all, WHAT THE FUCK?

Like Cinderella, if Cinderella were as comfortable with the "f word" and as knowledgeable about intentional grounding.

Princess Sparklepants — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 19:20:00 GMT

Y'all. Quelle week-end. I am effing exhausted.

As an aside, if our governor had declared today, Superbowl Monday, a state holiday, I would be off. ASSHOLE.

Anyway, so this weekend.

Friday night, I had Ball Rehearsal, during which I sent the following text message to my boss:

"Until I hear otherwise from you, I am going to continue to sneak wine like a 15-year old at a wedding."

She pulled her bberry out, read it, laughed, found me in the crowd with her eyes, and gave me a thumbs-up. Score.

Husband and Pumpkinhead went outside to a parade, one that appears to have been great, while I endured two hours of rehearsal. Finally, it was time for me to run My Song, The Ole' SSB.

I was nervous (despite the wine) and had to close my eyes. When I was done, and I opened them? All these ladies were crying. For effing real. Who cries at the National Anthem, truly??

I guess I sang it all right. My boss threw her arms around me (Not A Hugger!!!) and openly wept on my shoulder, saying things like, "Thank you" and "Oh My God" and "Absolutely Perfect." I guess it was all right.

On Saturday, we had to get up and go buy a present for McBasket (boxing gloves) for his birthday (my russian is four! FOUR!), and a bra without straps. While at the Wal-Mart, one of the ladies saw me and said, "Oh HAI SINGING GIRL!!" (I roll my eyes just recalling that moment.)

Anyway, we got home and had to gear up to go to Baton Rouge for McBasket's birthday party. The party was really nice, at a nice park, but it was colder than heck and I found out one of my first love cats (Dusty, if you knew him) died a few weeks ago (It's cool, he was a stray and he lived to be 18. 18!), and it was cold and cold and cold and I don't even really like kids (although they were all well-behaved), so anyway, we left as soon as we could pull it off, and went back home to get fancied up.

Listen, kids. I am a casual person. I'm not big-make-up-wearing, I don't have fancy nail polish or everyday jewelry that matches my outfits. I am known to wear yoga pants that I buy at Walgreen's in public. But, I dressed up PURTY on Saturday night. I know this because... as I walked into the hall?

People's head turned to look.

I was perfect. I knew I was, too.

I know that's so shitty to say about myself, but seriously. PERFECT.

And not too long into the night, I sang the Star Spangled Banner, after which time I joined the Mayor (!) at my table, and... it was all okay. I didn't sing wonderfully, but the pitches were dead-on (which is more than I can say for Miss Carrie Underwood) and I got tons of applause (I'd even call it a standing O, but everyone was standing for the presentation of the flags, anyway, so I can't really claim that). And I looked freaking fantastic.

I'll have pictures posted eventually.

Anyway, so that was great.

We didn't stay for the whole night - couldn't stand to - but it was a cool experience. If you haven't been to a Mardi Gras ball, you ought to. It's neat.

Yesterday, I had to be at church for 8am (BALLS O'CLOCK SAYS I) to sing, and I was there, and I sang, and it was fine. After church, there was (of course) a parade which was fun. After the parade, the Superbowl.

Not going to say much about that, since you were all there, too. Just, it was awesome. Betty White is awesome, too. And yeah, so maybe I did get a bit teary, but there was also that sense of, "what now?" What do we do with that whole part of our lives (and seriously, it was like 1/3 of our time spent) that was all about the football? I got a text message from Beanie's school board that they are closing a couple of hours early tomorrow for the Saints parade.
.

Seriously.

And I have been told that I can leave work early to go to it if I want to. Which I sort of do, I'll be honest. It would be cool, wouldn't it?

And I'm exhausted. Too damned much this weekend.

Anyway, seems to me like I need to leave you with something to talk about. Betty White. Make it so.

Sometimes, I write these things just so I will remember them. If you don't want to read about this shit, that's absolutely both fine AND understandable.

Princess Sparklepants — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 17:28:00 GMT

While I disdain mommy-blogging as being not cool enough (as if any blogging doesn't make me instantly hipster, and therefore, douchy), I am giving in and bragging today.

My older son has straight A's. Two of which are over 100% (obviously, not math grades, as anything over 100% doesn't really make sense).

My younger son has been doing workbooks, the kind you do to learn your letters and numbers and how to make those things with a pencil.

(aside: What's worse than Grease on Olivia Newton John?)*

Anyway, so he's been all sorts of awesome at these activities, and here he was, yesterday with three cookies in his hand.

PHead: "I am going to eat one now, and two in the car."

Me: "Wow. What would happen if you had four cookies and ate one?"

PHead: "I would have three left."

Me: "What if you had two cookies and ate one?"

PHead: "I would only have one left."

Me: "What if you had three cookies, and ate two?"

PHead: "I would only have one left, dummy."

(okay, he didn't say dummy, just implied it.)

Math. He's getting all mathy. I told him that we can use the word "Minus" to mean take away, and we started saying things like "3 minus 2 equals 1."

Yesterday, he was perusing daddy's Not-Pancake House menu.

"This is coffee," he said, pointing at a picture of coffee.

"Yep," I said. "Can you find the word that says coffee?"

"Cuh-cuh-cuh," he said. "Fuh-fuh-fuh." Then he pointed at the word Coffee, having recoginzed "C" for Cuh and "F" for Fuh.

"Wow," I said. "So how do you spell coffee?"

He read it off the page. "C-O-F-F-E-E."

Reading. Mathy AND reading.

We did the same with "Bacon" and "Eggs."

Not a toddler anymore. A preschooler.

Can someone please show me how to show his little left-handedness how to hold a pencil?

And the big one is more than 100%. What a good week.

In other news, I have these earrings, which I am wearing Saturday night. Do you envy me? You should.

Additionally, look how long my eyelashes are. ROCK.

Okay, talk amongst yourselves now. You can choose from, "Hey, I didn't even know her ears were pierced!" or "Eighties music is much better now than it was in the eighties."

*Come on Eileen!

Princess Non-Sparkle Dress

Princess Sparklepants — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 18:10:00 GMT

Last night, I was trying on my dress for my family.

Me: "Pumpkinhead, do I look like a princess?"

PHead: "no."

Me: "Hrmph. Hold on..."

I dashed into my room, dug through my jewely box cabinet thingee and extracted the tiara I did not wear on my wedding (but Janie did, because that's how we roll.) Put it in my hastily-pinned-up hair (with one bobby pin), went back to the living room.

Me: "How 'bout now?"

PHead: "yes, NOW you wook wike a Pwincess!!!"

He was right - the tiara really makes the whole look.

If I keep this up, I will absolutely forget that the only reason I am going to this thing is because they want me to sing, and they feed me bananas.

Princess Sparklepants — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 19:41:00 GMT

In case I have not mentioned this, the balls around here are huge. ENORMOUS.

Affairs.

(ba dum dum.)

My boss is the chair of one of these cojones, and thus, I have been wholly immersed in pre-carnival ball mania, Northshore style.

By which I mean, rather self-important and overblown, and not really one that "counts", but... who's counting.

This ball features a cast of a Queen and King, both of whom are wearing ermine-edged mantles, for Chrissakes. ERMINE. However, true to form, my boss, who is stunningly lovely, will outshine them in her red bedazzled gown. She can't help it. It's just impossible not to stare at her. She looks like a movie star. An effing size 2 movie star.

Anyway, me, I also have to be-gown for the b-all. Not owning an evening gown makes this problematic, and I expressed my concern, to which my boss said, no worries, you can try on all of our hand-me-downs, and if that doesn't work, I'll go buy you one.

My boss has offered to dress her little monkey.

Anyhoodle, one of the hand-me-downs fits like it was made for me, and I love it, and nobody really wants to claim ownership, so I might even be allowed to keep it (!), and... damn, y'all. I'm so fucking HOT.

Sorry, got distracted. I'm a little all-about-the-princess today, I think primarily because I completed a 5K track (yes, I did! no, I didn't run the whole way, but I DID run 2.4 miles - again - consecutively, before I stopped and walked. Ironically, when you stop after that kind of distance, your legs get confused-y and want you to go, so it's very much like a cartoon, where your top half is being still and your bottom half is still moving. ODD.)

Anyway, so I did that, and my hair is looking kinda kick-ass today, and I curled my eyelashes and stuff. I am fucking awesome.

I am tiny, adorable, and young.

(I might as well throw in "rich", too, since we aren't being terribly honest with ourselves).

It's a pretty good day.

Now excuse me while I go and figure out how to hot-glue-gun ermine...

I dunno. You tell me.

Princess Sparklepants — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 15:45:00 GMT

It's Janie-day, again, and though she absolutely deserves her own post, I can't indulge, because there are too many other things to discuss. But Janie, my Hetero-life-partner, turned 29 yesterday, owning the best birthday ever, in that it is the last of a month, and we decided that she can make this birthday rock BOTH months, so BAM.

Anyway, I love you, Janie-girl, and I'm glad you had a fun birthday! Also, I am glad they moved the Superbowl so it did not interfere with your birthday. Despite their desire to take rights to "Who Dat", that was one instance where the NFL did something right.

(Warning, I am VERY ADD today)

So then today, I locked my keys in my car, and my mom came and brought me my chirp-chirp thingee, which was in my garage, so that's all good, AND she brought me McDonald's for breakfast.

Yesterday, Janie's birthday, I ran outside for 2.4 miles. YES I DID. It was absolutely awesome, although it did take me 40 minutes, which is ridiculous. Still, 5K in May, baby.

The baby was invited to - and did - say "Who Dat!" into a microphone in yesterday's Parade. Also, I caught a black and gold feather boa (hence the black feathers all over my house). The baby also caught a little bag with a bunch of jacks and a ball. Later on, I go, "What was your favorite part of the parade?"

The baby goes, "the Michael Jackson."

It took me forever to figure out that "Jacks" were the same as "Michael Jackson", for whom his new teacher apparently fans a flame. I-fuckin-magine.

It is breathtaking the first time your kid speaks the name of a long-dead pop icon.

Ironically, Beanie was talking about Sam Cook yesterday evening.

Gearing up for my Big Sing on Saturday, I took the boys and myself to the old haircuttery this weekend. Let this be a lesson to you: It is not okay to get your hair cut at the WalMart.

I know it isn't terrible, but it is SOOOO pedantic, and I look like a thirty-something mother. Which I am. But DANG IT this hair won't look right with my Hannah Montana Leggings.

(the boys hair also looks okay, not great, but all right.)

That's all I've got. I mean it. This day is already wrecked, kind of has been from the point where I locked the keys into the car. Happy Monday.

Talk amongst yourselves. Here's a topic: How do you learn to drink your coffee black? I mean, DO you ever learn? Is it worth learning? Or should you just suck it up and admit you like it to taste like coffee-flavored-ice-cream?

Oh, Jesus, here she goes again

Princess Sparklepants — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 21:03:00 GMT

Something, nothing less than the best will do for me.

And by that, of course, I mean, Waffle-House-for-lunch, cutest-and-magicalest-dress-with-tights-and-mary-janes, and Journey-on-Pandora. The best. The very best.

Anyway, so tights. Have it be known I love tights. Tights are second only to leggings (my God, I love leggings) in the hosiery/pantsish department. I love tights.

But pantyhose?

Never. The hate, it consumes me. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

(worse hate: pantyhose with open toe shoes. I WILL NOT TOLERATE.)

Also, quick question. You know how the tops of pantyhose (and tights) has this, like, part that is all panty-ish? (sorry for the multiple uses of "panty" for all y'all that don't like the word "panty", but now it's done and I might as well get this all out of my system panty panty panty panty panty panties panty panty. panty.) Anyway, here's the bajillion dollar question:

Do you wear underwear with them?

I'm being serious, y'all. Do you? I mean, I do, I'm a prudish amish girl, I wear THREE pairs of panties (sorry) with them, at least one of which qualifies as "granny".

(of course, I am kidding. I only wear one pair of panties with them. which qualifies as "granny", though - that part was the truth)

But anyway, is this just me? AM I WASTING UNDERWEAR????

Clearly, it is Friday, and it's raining a lot, and I just can't seem to stay on topic, and I've got these two voices (one normal, one italicized) warring for control of me today.

Also, I'm going on a date tomorrow night.

I think there is no need for additional discussion, because you will all be talking about underpanties anyway, but if you need one, um.... let me think... it's really hard for me to find something that will NOT be nasty due to the underwear talk. Um... okay, here you go: Tiny Toons v. Animaniacs.