Overdressed

Me (noticing My Kid's Teenager's old dirty tennis shoes in the middle of the kitchen floor): "Well I see he's not wearing his old shoes. I guess that means he's cutting the grass in his new ones."

Big Daddy: "Actually, he's cutting the grass in his socks."

Happy Birthday my little boy! baby son! favorite child handsome, hulking teenage boy!!! The day you came into my life was the Best Day Ever. They should make a VH1 show about it. I love you!

Mom
xoxo

Posted by Kalisa at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

Between the excruciating pain and the high-stress job, I've found myself spending a lot of time awake during the night. The good news is, I come up with some really great posts. The other good news is I can't ever seem to get on Blogger so it doesn't matter that I can't remember any of the posts.

I believe that one of them had something to do with the guy who won So You Think You Can Dance being a Mormon - an RM, actually [return missionary] - and that I hope he's prepared to receive letters and emails from all the impressionable Mormon youth chastising him because there's no way he could be wearing the secret Mormon underwear under his costumes. I know for a fact that this will come to pass, because when I was a kid and I thought the Donnie & Marie show was the greatest thing on earth after only Little House on the Prairie, I remember my sister and her teenage friends wrote letters to Marie for this very reason, even though she was probably only 19 and hadn't yet even been assigned her secret underwear. But that's boring and who needs another post about the Mormons anyway?

The tooth is better so you don't have to listen to that anymore. Yesterday was the first day I was not in extreme pain. Now it just kind of dully throbs.

In other news...
As of tomorrow, I will be the mother of a teenager. God help me. I look good, though.

I spent the past two days with a British woman. Now all my thoughts are in a British accent.

I rented the DVDs of "Weeds." What an awesomely great show!!! I watched the entire first season last weekend, now I have to wait A WHOLE YEAR to see any more. Or I could subscribe to Showtime.

Last weekend I went to the library by my house to get something to read. (I still owe you reviews of the last books I had out.) I thought the parking lot looked really empty for 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon. Turns out they were closed because the AC was out. So I thought I'd pick up a paperback at the grocery store (I needed to pick up some cake mix for the birthday boy). Unfortunately, I don't read mysteries or romance novels, which apparently is all the Kroger in Cordova thinks their suburban shoppers want to read. But then I stumbled upon a book by Bill Bryson. I read one of his before - the one where he moved back to a small town in New Hampshire after living in England for like 20 years. I think it was maybe I'm a Stranger Here Myself. He's a delightful writer. I enjoyed the book and then I sent it to my sister because she actually used to live in the very same small town where Mr. Bryson lived in New Hampshire but she never so much as acknowledged the thoughtful (if used) gift. Anyway, this one is called In a Sunburned Country and it's about his travels in Australia. It's so interesting, because it's nonfiction and you really learn a lot about places but he's so entertaining. Two thumbs up. (And I'm only on Chapter 4.)

So how 'bout those Emmy's? Did you watch? Dude, guess the designers are showing a lot of PURPLE on the catwalks this year, huh? Sadly, I'll have to rethink my Most Beautiful Woman on TV award. Mariska Hargitay looks SO GOOD on Law & Order. The long hair does nothing for her. Although (in all fairness) I think she was carrying a little baby weight. And Izzy from Gray's Anatomy looked so beautiful. Why did she have to go and ruin it by wearing her boobs down around her waist? IT'S CALLED A BRA, WOMAN! But don't even get me started on the red carpet interviewers. What the fuck is up with that? Joan Rivers is just gross and disgusting and I refuse to waste any minutes of my life watching her dumb ass on TV. Over on the E! network, Ryan Seacrest (who, let's face it, is completely superfluous) interviewed people that he didn't even know if they were nominated or not! ("So, Hugh Laurie, this must be a really exciting night for you!") On NBC is the equally ignorant Billy Bush was making a complete idiot of himself. They really should let me do it. I would be sooooo much better than those morans.

/rant

Posted by Kalisa at 7:01 PM | Permalink | Comments

Dry. Socket.

And also? These four:

I told you so.

I knew I was still having too much pain. I got up this morning and my jaw was throbbing and I took three advil in hopes that I could deal with it and go on to work. But I couldn't. It hurt too bad. I got back into bed and Big Daddy was all, "You can't just not go to work!"

Which admittedly, he's used to the old, irresponsible drunken me who would call in sick if I had an especially fierce hangover. But I'm more reliable now. Hell, even taking off Friday at noon for the surgery, I still worked 45 hours last week.

Anyway, I went back to the doctor. He confirmed that I have a dry socket, and he packed the hole in my jaw with some medicated gauze. I think it had novacaine on it, too - I could taste it. And it did make the pain go away pretty quickly. I have to go back Thursday and have the packing removed.

This afternoon I had my first solid food in three days. If you can call Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup solid food. That hot, salty, chickeny goodness sure does make you feel better when you're sick though.

You'd think that after three days on a liquid diet, I would have dropped a few pounds, but no such luck.

Posted by Kalisa at 1:16 PM | Permalink | Comments

Who do you think is the most beautiful woman on TV?

Posted by Kalisa at 6:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm not bouncing back as well as I'd expected. I'm spending the day in bed watching I Love the 70s and taking all my medicine. My "n" key popped off again and I'm trying to type without it while on pain killers so that's a typo you may see over and over in this post.

Also, I didn't sleep well so expect several very deep, very contemplative posts to follow.

The pain killers make me itch all over. First it was just the top of my head, but then it was my skin too. It was making me crazy so I called the pharmacy and asked if it would be safe to take Benadryl with the Vicodin and she said YES but if I started getting hives or havig trouble breathig to stop takig the Vicodin.

This woman has no idea how much Vicodin I used to take when I was out there drinkig ad using . An allergic reaction is really not a concern.

At least the combination of the Vicodin and the Bendryl helped me to sleep for an hour or two at a time.

Today there's a hard, sharp edge on the inside of the surgical area. The instruction sheet they gave me says this is the "bony walls" which once supported the tooth. It says some small slivers of bone may work themselves out over the next week or so. I can hardly wait. Maybe I'll be sittg in a meetig ad have to spit bones out of my mouth.

Movies I want to see
1. Little Miss Sunshine
2. Idlewild
3. Devil Wears Prada

Posted by Kalisa at 3:01 PM | Permalink | Comments

Remember that tooth? Two dentists, one endodontist, an oral surgeon and five x-rays later, I had it pulled today.

The first dentist told me, "I can't do anything with that; go see an endodontist."

The endodonist told me, "I can't do anything with that; go see an oral surgeon." [He was quick to point out that he could have saved the tooth had he originally done the root canal, but now....]

Big Daddy told me, "There's only one dentist in this city I trust; go get a second opinion from Dr. Jack." Dr. Jack is about 85 years old and there's not a piece of equipment in his office that was bought after 1952, but he's been Big Daddy's dentist his whole life. The good news about senior citizen doctors, there's nothing they haven't seen.

Dr. Jack told me, "We could probably save the tooth, but it would cost you a whole lot of misery." I said, "I'm not that into misery."

So he sent me to Dr. G., the oral surgeon. Also about 85 years old. OK, maybe 65.

In a consult on Monday, Dr. G. told me the extraction would be no big deal. He predicted I wouldn't need to be sedated or stitched up. He said nitrous oxide and 15 minutes would do it. "You'll be fine by the next morning." I said, "Don't tell my husband that; I'm planning to spend the weekend recuperating in bed."

I made a special playlist on my iPod to listen to in the chair - 1.1 hours of classical music. I only ever got through the second song before Dr. G. had the tooth out. He was amazing.

Then they gave me two bottles of pills - one an antibiotic and the other some lovely pain killers. Now that the novacaine has worn off, I'm grateful to have them.

I slept on and off all afternoon, drank some Ensure for dinner and checked my work email (there were 33.) Now, where did I put those pills?

Posted by Kalisa at 6:11 PM | Permalink | Comments

Dear Starbucks,

You know I never joined in the bitching and moaning when people called you a corrupt corporate citizen. I never complained that you are taking over the world. I love you. Wholeheartedly. I've been proudly addicted to you for years. Since you first came to my town even. I dropped that little independent bookstore/coffee shop like a cold cuppa joe and sang your praises. "Hallelujah in excelsius! Starbucks is here! Aaaaahhhhh!"

But now you're just pissing me off.

I've never strayed far from my Grande Nonfat Latte. But sometimes, I get bored with it. I need a new taste. My old GNL is perfect in the morning. Evenings call for something different - something a little flavorful. Maybe even a little - a tiny bit - sweet. But your idea of sweet is FOUR PUMPS of a sugar-laden syrup. Which is waaaaay too much for someone like me who doesn't typically add sugar or other chemical sweeteners in her coffee. But occasionally I'll get a little shot of Vanilla, or Hazlenut, or Raspberry in my latte. And I always tell you that I want TWO PUMPS (which = one-half a shot). But I pay for a FULL SHOT. Because I'm generous and agreeable that way.

Lately, just to sex things up a bit, I decided to take ONE PUMP EACH of TWO DIFFERENT SYRUPS. Still, two pumps, or half a shot. And you are going to take your greedy corporate hand and reach into my wallet and literally steal my money!! From me - your loyal BFF!! What the hell is up with that??

Yes, your barristas insist on charging me for TWO SHOTS. Even though all I'm getting is (one more time, in case you've forgotten) one-half shot. "Blah blah inventory....blah blah the rules....blah blah accounting...."

So I am sending you this letter to tell you that YOU SUCK, STARBUCKS. And you better cut it out or I may stop drinking your coffee. Sometime. In the future.

Or Else!
kalisah

Posted by Kalisa at 6:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

You know what I was just thinking?

If you lived during Little House on the Prairie days, you'd have a lot less housework to do. Think about it.

Dirt floors....no sweeping & mopping
Outhouses....no scrubbing toilets
Wear the same dress day after day....one load of laundry a week
Cook over open fire....no oven to clean
Hunt and gather your own food.....no grocery shopping
One room log cabin....hardly any dusting
No disposables....no trash to take out

See?

Posted by Kalisa at 8:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

Whitney Matheson asked today: Have you ever boycotted an artist?

I admit: I have.

I consider myself an open-minded liberal. I'm all about the free speech and everyone's right to voice their opinion. So if I don't like Bill O'Reilly, then I just don't turn on Fox News. See how that works? You don't like my blog, you click the little red X in the corner.

But now BOYCOTT. That's taking an active roll. That's me using the almighty dollar to send a message to someone who depends on the public's support for their livelihood. And I have taken that step. Twice, in fact. You can probably guess who it is. But it wasn't a sudden decision on my part. I didn't wake up to Mel Gibson's mug shot and decide to fuck all. Although Tom Cruise's downfall was pretty speedy.

See, both of them preceded their bigoted statements with really bizarre, insane behavior. So like Mel, I started to not like the guy when he made that religious movie. I totally respect his right to make the religious movie; I respect your right to go and see it if you want. But all those interviews he did at that time. He acted like he was off his medication. He said things like that his wife who has borne him seven (SEVEN!) children won't go to heaven with him b/c she's not Catholic. He wouldn't say that he supports his father's holocaust denial, but he did say "The man's never lied to me." These things made me start thinking, "Man. What a lunatic."

So when he gets caught drinking and driving and then starts spouting his anti-Semitic ire, and every media outlet on TV is reminding me that the same accusations were flung around his little religious movie, then I decide, "That's it. No more of my money is going in that asshole's pocket."
If he ever does work in this town again, I won't pay to see it.

Tom has a similar story. I think I stopped liking him around 1989. The other alien-worshippers don't annoy people with their proselytizing. He seemed to be going off the deep end, but even the couch jumping incident wouldn't really call for a boycott. It wasn't until he made those inappropriate and judgmental comments about Brooke Shield's PPD that I said, "That's it. He's outta here." I think I might have also said, "Bastard."

You want to use your celebrity as a sounding board to state your political opinions, I don't really see that as a reason to boycott your artistry. Even if I don't like your political stance, I'll still listen to your music if it's got a good beat and you can dance to it.

I know there are a lot of performers out there who have said and done reprehensible things, but I don't actively boycott them. I don't have to. Emenim's a homophobe? Nice. I don't listen to his stuff anyway.

With Mr. Cruise and Mr. Gibson, I have made the conscious decision to deny them my financial support. I don't think their bigoted statements make them any better or worse than directors who marry their stepdaughters, singers who have sex with underage girls, or actors who slap around their wives. But I find their opinions so appalling and damaging to our society that I think they should be forced to go away and live in a cave forever.

Have you ever boycotted an artist?

Posted by Kalisa at 6:54 PM | Permalink | Comments

So this morning I was laying in my bathtub and the pest control guy walked in on me.

Other notes:

• I've noticed that people are really loud and boisterous around the elevators.
• That's where my new desk is.
• And people really congregate around the elevators around lunchtime.
• We are only allowed Casual Friday if the CEO is not in the office that day.
• I'm not sure if he doesn't know that we're wearing jeans or if we just think we're pulling one over on him.
• Either way, it's kind of weird.
• Getting up at 6 a.m. + fighting an hour and a half of rush hour traffic every day + heavy work load + 101 degree temperatures = severe exhaustion.
• Wednesday I slept from 7:30 p.m. to 10:30; got up, ate something, washed my face and went back to bed until 6 a.m.
• Last night I attended my first election night victory party.
• It was mostly just a lot of drunk people celebrating the fact that they have a job for 8 more years.
• My candidate (a Republican) won the early voting with 63 percent.
• 13,000 more Democrats voted in early voting than Republicans.
• I was hired to convince Democrats to cross over and vote for this guy.
• Which means I did my job well.

Yay, Friday.

Posted by Kalisa at 8:28 AM | Permalink | Comments