Tales from Thankgiving

Because I have none of my family within a 300 mile radius, the holiday debacle isn’t so taxing on The Mister and me.
Every year, we go to Grandma’s with all the other adults and families, listen to Grandma cry during the blessing and eat store bought pumpkin pies.
The follow tidbits are TRUE, nay, INCREDIBLY TRUE stories from Thanksgiving.

Food vs. Not Food with Aunt Mary
(in Aunt Mary’s defense, she is certifiably crazy and can not help the way she is.)
The teenagers come screaming into the back apartment.
“Sup?”, the Casual Adults ask.
“Aunt Mary was trying to eat my coat!”
“Huh?”
“We found Aunt Mary with the coats and she was chewing on the end of my jacket.”

Worst Salesperson EVAR
(The Misters one aunt is a hairdresser, a stereotypical hairdresser at that.  Woman can talk.)
Aunt: “Stephanie, come here I want to show you something.”
me: “Okay.”  (passing Steve “Come get me in five minutes.”) (proceed with Bataan Death March)
“I don’t know if you’re interested, or if you know anyone who may be, but I purchased this hairdryer.”
“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.  I have a hairdryer.”
“Well this is a professional one.”
“I’m cool.  Thanks though.”
(Aunt removes dryer from bag.  The tag is on it $150.00.  The receipt is on it $69.change.) “Well, this is professional and it’s ceramic and ionic.”
“Thanks though.”
“It tames fly -aways and actually helps make your hair healthier.  Plus, it’s great for straightening.”
“Oh, no, I don’t have any use for another blowdryer.” (aside: lady, you’ve cut my hair, it don’t get no straighter.)
“I really wish my daughter didn’t buy one, because this one would be so good for her, but she did buy one and now I have this one.  I was thinking I could sell it at the salon.  Or I could try to sell it on ebay and I’d definitely get my money back.”
“Yeah, no I can’t really see a need for that and I only have one friend who uses a blowdryer and I’m pretty sure she’s good.”
“Well, see, they were selling it for $150 and then it was on sale and because I work at the mall, I got an extra $16 discount and so it only really cost me like $70.”
“Ah-ha.”
“So you know, if you wanted to buy it…”
“No.  Thanks.”
“I really wish my daughter wouldn’t have gotten one already.  I mean, I know $70 seems like a lot to spend on a hair drier, but it’s professional and would last a long time.”
“Really, I do not need a blow dryer.  But thank you for thinking of me.”

Catch: She tried to sell it to two other family members before me.

Correct Positioning of the Tray
(Aunt Mary was helping herself to the turkey, from the platter, using the serving fork.  Being at the end of the line, we did not see/hear the event).
Steve’s Mom, while I am serving myself: Ewwww, I wouldn’t take from there.
me: Why?
SM: That’s where Aunt Mary was eating from.
me: Well THANKS for telling me.
SM: I did tell you.
me: When?
SM: Back there.
me: Okay, because there are like, twelve dishes on the table…
Adult Cousin: Snark.
SM: I told you, don’t take from the upper right corner.
me: Oh, this is the upper left.
SM: NOOOO.  THAT is the upper right (pointing to the left)
AC: Yeah, that’s the left.
SM: NO!
me, putting my hands out to show left from right: Left.  Right.
SM: I KNOW I’m right.
AC: You do know right from left…
SM: Yes.  It was the upper right from that side of the table.
me: And how much wine have you had today?

A and B Conversation, so C Your Way Out
(at the table, sitting, conversing, amongst ourselves are two other adult cousins, Steve’s Godmother and I)
us, cackling like hens: blah blah blah.
Hairdressing Aunt: Butting into conversation.
us: still talking amongst ourselves, ignoring HA who wasn’t even commenting on anything relevant.
HA: Becoming louder and less relevant.
us: Bowing into the table so we can talk.
HA: blah blah blah.
one adult cousin: looks up, nods at HA.
HA: walks over to adult cousin and starts talking.
Adult Cousin: nods, “uh-huh” even when not a proper response.
HA: talking to hear herself talk.

And with that, the conversation that we were going to have about HA came to an abrupt halt.

Bonus: I did not say ANYTHING unsavory to ANY of his family.  Holidays are 100% easier while medicated.

The Plight of the Lowest Men

While most of the nation gets to stay snuggly in their beds on Friday, The Canadian, Pronoun and I will be at work.

me: So, what time should I get the keg here by?
The Canadian: Uh?
me: Is eight am too early?
TC: A keg?
me: Yeah, I mean, it’s Pronoun, you and me here Friday…
Boss, cutting through the kitchen: Drat, you’re one player short for a game of euchre.
TC: Euchre?
me: It’s a card game.
TC: Ohhhh.
me: I’m only good at “Go Fish” and “War”.  I’ll bring in the Scrabble board or Cranium.

Tomorrow afternoon, I will get the following questions asked about twenty times:
“Are you pregnant yet?” (in their defense, the “winter coat”  has come in early, but it’s not like I can go to the gym with an open, yet almost healed, back wound.)
“Why aren’t you pregnant?”
“Are you going to have kids before I die?”
“Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“Are you going shopping tomorrow?”
“Why?”
“Why?” (added a second time to cover being asked “why” over fifty times)
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“Are you going to see your parents/grandparents for Christmas?”
“What time are you coming over on Christmas?”

And as soon as we drag home from Grandma’s, Steve starts with the “Can we watch Christmas Vacation/Elf/any other holiday movie??!?!”  as I have a strict No-Christmas-Until-After-Thanksgiving rule.

So, Dear Reader, are you “working” Friday?  Are you going shopping Friday?  Do you have any “Holiday Rules”?  Why aren’t you pregnant?!?!

Lest I Call the Fashion Police. Again.

Pronoun comes up to my desk and asks if I could take her photo for the intranet.  She also mentions that she’s ready for her photo today as she “tried” (her word, not mine) to look decent today.

You be the judge:
Crushed black velvet blazer, too short in arms/torso, barely buttons
Red shiny cami
Tan pants with brown pinstripes, so long they’re under the arch of her foot
White athletic socks
Black shoes with purple/red yarn flowers embroidered onto them.  Shoes of which she asked if they looked like slippers or shoes (answer: they’re ballet flats).

After she asked my co-workers opinion (I do believe Pronoun was fishing for shoe compliments), I dashed into co-workers office and said, “Perhaps the better answer would have been, ‘Regardless, they’re inappropriate for the office.’”

Between a friends stinky co-worker and the fashion disaster, how do you Dear Reader help the helpless?

At Least I’m Not a Dollar Short

Taking a look at what remained of LAST weekends To-Do List, with things I did this week scratched:

- Finish getting the yard stuff into storage
- Winterize the windows
- Switch closet contents
- Finish the ump-teenth pile of laundry
-Plant CatOats (like catnip but without the stoning)
- Relearn how to crochet
- Clean out the car before the snow comes
- Make some food from scratch
- Lose three pounds
- Sleep
- Read a book with The B on my lap
- Find some awesome estate sales

Hmm, seems like someone got her poo together…

*I gave myself credit for clearing the lawn items because I had to break up a couple inches of ice to get the filter out of the pond.  I also brought in whatever wasn’t frozen to the ground.
* While I did find some Estate sales, The Mister was “it’s too cold for estate sales!” so well, not like I need more things.
* My laundry is done, but in the basement as someone’s open wound doesn’t take too kindly to a lot of bending.  Though that’s getting 100% better by the day.
* Sealed the living room, kitchen and two bedrooms windows (that’s 6 panes if you’re keeping track).  Even Mister Critical thought I did a good job, which is great because I did do a good job.  You’d think that for having a house that is as young as ours, you wouldn’t have drafty windows…. then again, you’d probably have windows on the sides of the house too, but that didn’t happen.
* I FINALLY dipped back into the ‘lissa lended library.  This rounds reading is “You Suck” by Christopher Something (not his real last name) about sassy vampires.  Joy.
* Last nights dinner was from a cookbook but it was a bit salty and even though I left the onions out (onions=Steve turning to dust) I think there were onions in the stew mix.  I liked the idea of it, so I think I can fiddle with it and make it post-worthy.  At this point, I think it resembles a salt-lick with some macaroni noodles, but that’s just me.

So, what’d you do this weekend?

Round About Buffalo

Seeing as I’ve been up for almost two hours (I did go to bed at 930) and I’m inbetween loads of laundry, here are some photos I took in early fall.

To start things off, I think we should enter The Time Machine.

This IS The Train.  One train.  It goes in one direction.
No, this is not a photo from 1986, this was from early fall 2008.
Hooray for the highest taxes in the state!
P.S. The bustling street is Main.

And a look at our not-at-all-phallic City Hall.

Lucky it’s art deco or I’d have major issues.

For you art junkies, perhaps this looks familiar…

Not so much?

Granted, we’re working with a different angle here, but this/that would be the Charles Burchfield painting “Rainy Night”.
Way to go Buffalo…save this building but knock down The Larkin Building.

(bitter?  naw!)

Continuing on with the mothball that is Downtown, you can tell how used this building is.

Yes, that would be a fallout shelter sign.
I think I would take my luck and “duck and cover”.  If the fallout didn’t kill me, I’m sure the asbestos would.

So, rounding out the trip, lets take a gander inside an actual working office building.
Most of Downtown used to be retail on the first floor(s) and offices on the upper floors.
This building is no exception.

At one point, this was a Kaufman’s store (nowadays Macy’s and back in the day a men’s store).

Set apart by it’s curved windows, this building now houses a Sprint store, Ghetto jeweler, Armed Forces Recruitment, etc.

At one point, the main entrance was located around here.

The store took up the first and second floors and this is evident in the two styles of handrails.
First Floor to Second Floor:

Second to Seventh Floors:

And there used to be a solarium as buildings in this period were trying to harness the natural light.

And thus, the solarium was covered.  Nice.

No trip would be complete without the customary “You’re going to hell” street-preacher (located almost on the tracks).

Vicarious Dog Ownership

Found this on ihasahotdog this morning and it made me think of how Bailey is.
Replace the corgie and black lab with a brown lab.
Replace ball with any of her toys.

last night I thought her tail was going to fall off when I got home.
And then she insisted on sniffing my tattoo with her cold, wet nose.

(re)Introducing….

I was in the sun for this shot, so it looks like the left part is missing (but it’s not).  Also, my dad took the photo, so it looks like someone took the photo.

1998

Now, take into account the following
1) My skin is wicked sensitive
2) It’s like not even 7am
3) My camera was set on the table while Bailey was asking to come inside
4) I just applied A&D ointment (thus the shine)

2008

So far today, I feel 100% better than yesterday, but alas, I haven’t quite moved around a lot.

Poor Post Planning

Oy.

1) I should have taken a before photo.
2) I should have taken an after photo.
3) I should have brought my USB cable to work so I could show you my revised inking.
4) Ow.

I survived.
A bit of wincing, a fair amount of swearing but NO CRYING.
Last night I was fairing better than this morning where I am in a considerable amount of achy pain and wondering why I do these things.
And in usual StephanieFashion, I have more redness where the bandage was than around my ink.
Ow.

Please Please Please, Don’t let the First Three Hours be Precedence

I’ve been up since 5:15.  AM.  EST.

This whole thing started last night when I had yet another old injury flare up.  (backstory: in twenty-ought-five, I took a FANTASTIC swan dive on some wet office flooring, producing bruises rivaled by hockey players.  I also hyper-extended something in my shoulder which an MRI was inconclusive in pinpointing.)  So I’m miserable-er on the sofa with a hot pack on my shoulder as I can’t really wiggle out of my sweater without wincing.
How bad was it?  Steve knew not to harass me about it.
By 9:30 I was so much more miserable-er that I went to bed.

So this morning at 4, I awake drenched in sweat (yum, right?) after nightmares of silly things and I get up to use the bathroom.
When I return, I am the filling in a SteveBailey oreo.
His alarm goes off at 5:15 and every seven minutes thereafter until 6 am.  (my alarm starts at 6:15 in the winter).

I can’t find my sweater.
The pants I purchased (a size larger) and de-tagged (as the size smaller was a bit too small for my taste) are not much larger than the tried-on pair.
I am already late.
Bailey is STARVING TO DEATH and the trash is over-full.
I remember to pack yougert, but not lunch.
This is especially bad today, of all days, as it’s TATTOO WENDSDAY!  (For the un-inked, it’s advisable to get inked on a full tummy to soak up the pain cancelling hormones)  And my appointment is at a wierd time where it’s not totally effective for me to go home and then come back out to the same area.

Oh, and my shoulder still hurts like the dickens.  But I’m not hungry (pain=loss of appetite) so I can’t take any medication.  Not to mention I left my CrazyInhibitor at home.

Dear Reader, tell me your day is going better.  Please.

News Bulletin

holy shit it’s snowing everyone forget how to drive.