"they keep those letters in the barn"

so we're going apple picking tomorrow. we're going to Keown Orchard, which I used to always bring my RISD residents to, but my parents have never been to it.

as usual, Mum is calling it "McCouns Orchard" instead of Keown Orchard. When I correct her, she laughs and Dad says "well it should be Macouns, why the hell isn't it?"

"I don't know dad, why don't you ask them tomorrow?"

dad says "I'm going to. I'm going to say 'where is you M.C.?' and they will say Barnstable,... Barnstable, MA. And that's where they keep the M and C. The M's are in the barn and the C's are in the stable."

ok.

currently he is yelling about "corn juice" on the stove.

new house

now that my parents are getting older, they've been fiendishly searching for a new, smaller house. The one they currently have set their sites on, an old ramshackled lean-to from the 1700's, is desperately in need of renovations. My dad, in one of his "silly" moods, after being stuck in MassPike traffic for 2 hours, described to me the renovations on our "new" house, should we move there.

-"there will be an opal door,...so that we can always find it"
-"the house will be painted chartreuse" (because he likes the word "chartreuse")
-"a powder blue trim"
-"and celery green shutters"


beautiful.

washing tentacles for Jasmin's cat with bowls in it

another phenomena with my risd friends is our inability to hear anything one another says correctly. it's probably our "creative minds" altering what we hear, pushing a common phrase to something utterly stupid. though i have no idea what was ACTUALLY said, i wrote down the phrase that seemed to have been misconstrued the furthest.

so the worst hearing of the weekend goes to me for hearing:
"washing tentacles for Jasmin's cat with bowls in it".
yup.

put pictures in waveabill in a dood movie

this weekend i took a trip to providence to visit some of my risd buddies, which always ends up in a hilarious shit show of sorts. things that are hysterical to us are generally not found amusing by others. here's a great example:

after leaving dinner on saturday night, we walked past a CVS pharmacy on our way to the car. We all sort of slowed as we passed their giant glowing sign, trying to decifer what it was exactly they were trying to sell, "Put pictures in waveabill in a dood movie". After probably a solid 20 seconds of confusion, we realized that someone had decidedly fucked with all the letters on the sign....it was HILARIOUS. we laughed for most of the night, yelling "waveabill dood movie" to one another until about 3 am. but much to our dismay, few others how found it as funny since. i guess maybe you just had to be there?

distractions

as i'm sitting at the computer, trying to update my website, i'm being ATTACKED by my own dad. here's how the aggravation has progressed:

first- he comes over singing the Dreidle song (however you spell dreidle...) and trying to poke me in the ear. i swat him away.

second-he comes over with a tiny toy house trying to poke my ear with it, still singing Jewish songs


third-he comes over carrying a 30 pound sewing machine trying to cram it into my head while still singing

fourth- now he's shining a flashlight at me. while singing.


fifth-now he's giggling and pointing a laser level at my forehead.

Noondnick

Word of the WEek:

Thanks to my Dad, we have a new word to add to our repertoire (ie zipper heads, illiots).

The word is: (n.) Noodnick
"Look at this fuckin' Noodnick ova heah, tryin' to cut me off. You
fuckin' Noodnick!"

Popcorn and Opera

it's been foreverrrrrrrrrr........sorry. here goes. my exciting blog:

last night, while up in my room,i could here my dad downstairs singing opera. is this so odd....not particularly...for him anyway. is he an opera singer? well, no, but, it's my dad. i come down stairs to investigate and there, in the kitchen is my dad, screaming/singing opera, the dog...and throwing popcorn at her. the dog, either attributed to her lack of sense or the captivating singing of my father, has barely noticed the popcorn surrounding her, or even stuck to the top of her head back and dangling from her ears. that's what i get for owning a cocker spaniel- loyal to the end with a pea sized brain.

my dad sees me and we both sort of freeze,
"dad? are you...singing, and throwing popcorn at the dog?"

he kind of turns red...
"omfg...you're standing in the kitchen throwing popcorn at the dog..and singing"

then we both nearly piss ourselves laughing for about ten minutes.

at least living at home is entertaining?

Basil, Age 2

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of our dear friend and fish companion, Basil. He was loved by all, altough you could tell from his ebony skin that he was adopted. Basil died at home after suffering a brief illness (approx. 15 minutes). He was 2.5 years old.

Born in France, Basil spent the first weeks of his life in a crowded orphange in Providence, RI on the corner of Wickenden Street. He was quickly adopted and became roommate and best friends to 2 other goldfish named "Puppy" who suffered from a chronic identity crisis and Aquafresh (RIP 1/06-1/06). Puppy and Basil were nomadic fish, traveling from building to building throughout RISD campus, Basil's trademark bulging eyes taking in all of his surroundings. Basil recieved a purple heart in the Korean War and worked as an assistant in the Residence Life Office at the Rhode Island School of Design.After receiving his degree and working for many years at RISD, Basil retired to Grafton, MA to lead a simple country life outside of the city. He spent most of his days relaxing with Puppy.

Basil leaves behind Puppy, and his two mothers, Jasmin and Laura. A burial at sea is planned for early next week (well, he'll get there eventually). A plaque in his memory will be placed on frazier terrace along side Acetaminopehen "Ace" Worrick (5/06) and Little Dude Snyder-Dodge (3/07). In lieu of flowers, the family will be accepting donations : Sudden Aquatic Death Syndrome (SADS) Research Foundation, 8 Institute Road, North Grafton, MA 01536

family fun

my family is crazy. period. i love them, but we are far from normal. a perfect example would be dinner last night. really an assortment of things occurred, but here are some of my favorites:

pee wee herman: during a somewhat serious conversation about the police academy, my mother suddenly interjects. "Oh my God guys! you know who I miss?! What's his face! Oh man he was SOOO funny! I loved him!" my brother responds with his usual sarcasm, "Oh yeah what's his face, I miss him too."

"PEE WEE!! PEE WEE HERMAN! That's his name! That's who I miss, man what a funny guy", and then, my mother proceeds to do an impression of the purple chair from the Pee Wee Herman Show, while we are still in the restaurant. Woman with children are starting to give her dirty looks based on my mother's love for pee wee herman and that fact that he is now infamous for being a sexual predator.

The look on my brother's face was PRICELESS. I've never seen anyone look more disgusted or disturbed. Her digression from our original topic was so unprompted and unrelated, I thought he might actually strangle her. To his reaction she replies "what? you said you miss him too!" Sometimes, blatant sarcasm goes over my mum's head. Which is less funny and more irritating when you're required to rewind the story to the beginning to explain what actually happened, during which you lose her attention anyway to anything shiny or moving.

take out box: our waiter brought over take out boxes for the rest of our meals. he had accidentally given us one to many, because my dad wasn't taking anything home. Of course, a normal person would have returned the unused box to the waiter and that would have been the end of it. but, clearly, this was not what happened. My dad takes his left over rib bones, from his baby back ribs, puts them in a box, and places them in the takeout bag. my mum, oblivious to this, reaches into the bag to rearrange the boxes and pulls out that one, noting that it is suspiciously light. Upon opening the rib bones she looks at my dad (who starts giggling to himself, as usual when he does something ridiculous) and yells "you fucking idiot". Of course, the woman sitting behind us with 6 children under the age of 8 is none to happy and gives ME the evil eye because I'm in her direct line of vision. So my mother throws the box of bones into my dads plate, covering it with bbq sauce. At this point my dad is laughing pretty hard. He takes out the bones and when the waiter comes back he hands the bbq covered box to the waiter and says, "oh, this was an extra, we didn't need it".


pinata: again, normal family, would have a) put up a pinata outside, b)used a bat or broom stick, and c) would not have bought one in the first place for their 19 year old son. but again, this is not a normal scenario. My mum thought it would be HILARIOUS to buy him one. So, since for my 22 birthday, I had insisted (after many drinks) to punch mine open at my "Mexican Drug Running" themed party, my brother wanted to out do me and HEADBUTT the pinata. genious. i have to say it was pretty hysterical, but never the less, not a brilliant move. The idea arose only after his girlfriend hit my father in the head with the pinata and broke a hole in it, which was then duct taped over and hung from the ceiling in our kitchen.

the rest of it was opened with a broken wiffle ball bat that shattered pieces of yellow plastic all over the floor along with the candy that my dog was trying to hoard in her mouth before being yanked away from the laffy taffy disaster on the kitchen floor; all of this narrowly missing my beloved 2 year old goldfish. i'm pretty certain months from now we'll still be finding pieces of candy lodge in the ceiling, cabinets and other corners of our house.

4th of July

there's really nothing like crashing a party on the fourth of july with good friends.

we'd gone to newport for the evening to have dinner and watch the fireworks by the water. Always underestimating the stupidity of rhode island drivers, the roads leaving newport were grid locked, so we decided to stay by the water drinking wine until the traffic died down. of course, drinking alcohol always leads to someone needing to pee, BAD. and that person, obviously, was me. we were basically in a park that ran along the water,and clearly, there were no bathrooms to accommodate the thousands of people visiting in Newport every summer. but across the street from the park were some houses. One of these houses was having a party, with music and people talking and singing on the front porch. It sounded like the typical college ripper.

me and seth set out to find a bathroom and figured we'd stop by there and see if we could get in, because after a few drinks it seemed like a brilliant idea. as we got to the side of the house to look for a door, a middle-aged man in dress shorts and loafers walks out, startling us. "you coming in?" and he gestures warmly to the open door. I looked at Seth and he and I say "uh, yeah, sure!". So we walk up the stairs armed with our beer and wine, and there we are, not in some college ripper, but a family fourth of july cook out, complete with grandma and baked beans. I made a b-line for the bathroom while seth went out to the front porch to mingle with the family members who were listening to some of the other family members (dressed in kilts) playing the bagpipes and drums.

After using their facilities and saying hello to the hostess (who didn't question my presence at her family party for a second)we listened until the end of the song, said our thankyous and left. All in all a pretty outstanding party.

blow pop assault

The other day i found by far the best court house record in the police log of the local paper. My brother and I generally pour through them every week looking for someone we might have gone to school with. "hey remember that kid billy who told your class in 5th grade that he was going to kill everyone? he's going up for murder 1 on that recent double homicide!" or "michelle! the girl who slept with everyone! she just got busted in that major prostitution ring!" It's nice to see people following through with their childhood aspirations.

anyway, the police log read: "Jaqueline B., 30, charged with assault and battery with a dangerous weapon (blowpop lollipop).

....wtf?

amazing. remember those blowpops, with the gum in the center? who would have thought? I've spent the past 3 days speculating what way she could have used the blowpop to injure someone. did she use more than one and throw them at her child? did she attempt to stab her estranged boyfriend in the neck with the stick? or better yet poke him in the eye? or did she get it all slobbery and stick it in some chick's hair, forcing her to shave a spot of her head bald to get it out and is now looking to collect damages?

what ever the situation, the charge was dismissed so i can only assume it was some overreacting asshole looking for a way to make bank on some woman's candy mistake.

another day, another idiot, another blog post!

public trasportation

what is it with people always wanting to sit next to me on the train when there are plenty of other open seats? isn't everyone else, like me desiring little to no human contact before 10 o'clock in the morning? I'm also beginning to believe that i'm some sort of magnet for the psychotics using public transportation. Here are a few of my favorite moments.

Nathan-one morning on the worcester/ framingham line, i was attacked (verbally ofcourse) by a man who i presumed to be mentally handicapped. As it turned out he was an accountant, which explained everything. I generally try to sleep on the train, but this clown jumps into the seat and yells "howdy". Clearly this was not going to be a good start to the day. As I plastered myself to the window, he inched closer, ranting about why he thought Whoopie Goldberg should be the next president, and demanding to know my opinion, all the while covering the left side of my face in mucus. Needless to say he didn't understand body language and after an hour of torture, I got off at Back Bay while he still screamed to me, feeling violated and in desperate need o a face cloth.

RIPTA Bus- Every time i've ever rode the bus to Newport, RI, there has been at least one individual drinking a 40 oz. out of a paper bag. On this particular occasion, an old, deaf, mute, gets on the bus and sits with a man drinking alcohol out of a bottle in a paper bag.This, of course is all conveniently located directly across the aisle from me and my friend. The two men either know each other, or alcohol is the truly the greatest social lubricant, as the two quickly develop a way to communicate via hand gestures, grunts, and a series of smiles fit for a pedophile. Suddenly, I had become part of the conversation, and the old man was gesturing at me. Smiling, the young drunk said "he thinks ya beautiful". The old man then looks at my friend, frowns, and gives the thumbs down. " But he thinks ya friend is ugly" the young drunk translated.

I had been drawing in my sketch book when the old man gestured for my pen. reluctantly I gave it to him, but it was only a Bic and I just considered it a loss. He took the pen and started scrawling on the palm of his hand, which, when he shows to me, resembles some ancient cave drawing found in the ruins of a lost village. He wants desperately for me to understand the secret message scribbled on his hand..."A buffalo,...eating a peach?". "that's his phone numbah" the young drunk grinned at me, "he want ya ta cahll him". I smiled politely and got off at the next stop, walking the 45 minutes home.

sudoku woman- Getting on a train a back bay is a shit show. Everyday, it's like there are giant rats threatening to disembowel us, and if we don't all cram on the train fast, they're gonna get us. I've learned that throwing an elbow will get you a long way, but when my friend blatantly cut off an old woman with a suitcase, I had to question her.

As it turns out, this woman wasn't exactly your usual traveler. It began when Sudoku was all the rage with 30 and 40 somethings, the craze that swept the public transportation nation. This woman got a sudoku book, scrawled secret messages into the squares ( she didn't quite grasp the concept of sudoku), and waited for the train. When the train would come, she would fight people to get on first, then, once reaching the train door, would turn around, and walk back against traffic, to the platform, where she would sit down and not board the train. She did this every day. Longing to feel even more like a real commuter, she went so far as to buy a rolling briefcase with the wheels and retractable handle. I justified Alison's elderly cut off, and continue to cut her off daily, without remorse.

and that, my friends.....is public transportation.

dog stacking: a sport for morons

when did it become socially acceptable for people to sit outside starbucks with chihuahuas in baby clothes stacked three high on their lap, like they're books you're returning to the library? and better yet, tote them away in a whole foods shopping bag.


...If there's a pet store in Back Bay missing three chihuahuas, i think i know where to find them.

so i've decided to start a blog, though I'm not really sure why. maybe because i have too much time on my hands. lie, this is clearly not true, i usually have way too much crap to do. i think that it is most likely that have a lot to say. mostly useless and borderline offensive, but on the rare occasion perhaps insightful...maybe.

anyway, we'll see how long this lasts. maybe for a while, maybe this is my only post. unclear. we'll see how long before i become too ADD to do this crap.

that's all for now. i'm going to continue watching this woman drag her her child on a dog leash down the street. I only hope he stops to pee on one of the trees. deuces.

x
L