Spring Cleaning

I have 53 unfinished posts in my drafts folder and some of them I will delete entirely.  A few are included below, not because they’re all that good, but because they’re long enough that it’s obvious I spent a significant amount of time on them and I’m not one to just throw that away.  So here…enjoy this bullshit while I work on what has become a very long and arduous post about animals – COMING SOON (maybe)!



If you’re not from around these parts you may not have heard that Seattle has endured yet another snowstorm and before you get all sanctimonious and tell me that 6 inches of snow is like a whisper, let me remind you that Seattle is made up entirely of hills.  ENTIRELY OF HILLS.  You go up and down one and then right up another.  Also, we’re entirely incapable of good judgment in any form of extreme weather.  It’s just who we are.

I managed to get off work early to try to make it home before things got really awful, but the buses were already jammed up because one broke down in the middle of an intersection and nothing was getting through and MY GOD, METRO, get it together.  Get. It. Together. Instead of sitting around in the cold, waiting for a bus that I knew would never come, I started the long jaunt to Magnolia.  About 30 minutes in I lost all the feeling in my thighs. My sister kept calling and texting to insist that I get inside somewhere until she could come and get me but one of my most annoying qualities is that I never listen to my sister’s advice even though she’s always right.  Especially about that one thing.  So I kept on walking and walking and walking, hoping to find a bus that would take me home and hahahahaha, that never happened.

TO THE FARTING WALKER who I was unfortunate enough to walk behind at the crosswalk of 1st and Denny, that was uncalled for.  UNCALLED FOR.

About two hours in the wind started to pick up and things started to get awful.  Within about 20 or 30 minutes things went from cold and breezy to windy and suddenly everything was frozen. I slowly made my way past the gentleman who stood at the crosswalk, screaming obscenities at passing cars, to Whole Foods.  I thought I’d thaw out some before the final third of my journey through the arctic tundra.  I ate a quick  dinner and texted Janie to see if she wanted me to bring her anything that, regardless of what she chose, would be frozen by the time I got home.  She chose a gluten free sandwich, in case you were curious, and she said it was delicious.

I left Whole Foods and wandered past the U-haul, stopping for a longing gaze at the trucks and moving vans and briefly considered renting one just to get me home.  I wanted to scream PLEASE HELP ME GET HOME! but instead I just cranked up my headphones and trudged along.  I’d like to apologize to the residents and drivers of 15th Ave W for my very off-key, loud and care-free version of Usher’s OMG.  I was trying to psych myself up.  I was doing what it took to keep morale high.  Don’t judge.  Also, don’t judge my hot dance moves as I stopped and waited at various cross walks.   I’d also like to apologize to the girl who was unfortunate enough to walk behind me while I belted out Katy Perry’s Firework.  I did not know you were there.

The wind started to pick up again and almost blew me over at which time I became quite angry.  I know it’s not healthy or productive to hold on to anger but I am incredibly mediocre that way.  If I harbor any ill will toward any of you then you should know that at roughly this 2.5 hour mark I snapped and may have put a curse on you, a skill I inherited form my Italian forefathers and foremothers and also from watching many episodes of Golden Girls.  If you find your hair falling out or you’re diagnosed with rickets then you’ll know it worked.

I’m just kidding.  Maybe.

I wandered triumphantly up the exit towards our part of town and started getting excited about the possibility that I might be home within the hour.  Just as I was starting to feel good about myself, a Ford Bronco sped up the exit ramp and lost control, sliding onto the sidewalk about a foot from me, at which time I promptly started to cry.


The Uncouth Heathen Back to School Guide

Welcome, friends. Welcome back to Fall. Unless you’re, you know, not from around here and it’s Spring and in that case, disregard this post and come back next time to read more about my stupid feelings. For the rest of us, it’s that’s time of year again when you’re settling in to the old routine of school or watching your kids go to school or remembering when you used to go to school or whatever. The point is, people are back in school and I want to share some hop tips because I went to school for a very, very, very long time and I know some shit. Also, I’m preparing to go back to school again to study people who have the crazy. This will mean one of two degrees – Divinity or Psychology. Hahaha…see what I did there? On account of my eventual return (which will begin next weekend with both boxing fitness and spin classes – SHUT UP and fuck you for judging my intellectual pursuits. We’ll see who has the last laugh when I can punch you into outer space while I whiz by on my bicycle!) this will also serve as a reminder to my aged self about what the hell happens when you go back to school and that, oh, it’s okay, I won’t be the oldest person alive in class because remember that one dude with the army veteran’s hat and the elevated shoe and the cane who was auditing every other class and wouldn’t shut up, already? Yeah, I bet he’s still there, jabbering away about the Nazis.


You go to a party with your roommates but before you leave the dorm, you get drunk on cranberry juice and cheap vodka. At the party you get more drunk on cheep beer. Your roommates all get more drunk, too. You all somehow manage to get home (except that one girl, but she’ll find her way in the morning when someone finds her passed out in the bushes and wakes her up). Someone sets the toaster on fire (this is now how you make a grilled cheese sandwich. You know this now). Someone else has sex with that football player in your shower. You throw up all over the bathroom floor, fall down, bang your head on the back of the toilet, pass out and wake up the next afternoon with a giant bruise on your forehead and you just missed your Sociology midterm. Oh well. Shit happens. You’ll get over it. The most important question here is whether or not it was a good party. Can you remember? If not, then the answer is probably yes.


Your new best friend/roommate is funny and brilliant, laughs at your jokes, has a shoe fetish matching your own and, best of all, and likes it when you call her a whore (this will change your life entirely). You both stay up late for 5 straight days to study for your psych and astronomy finals and go completely retarded from lack of sleep. You probably suffered some brain damage because now, in your collective delirium, everything is funny, especially the news story about how that 10 year old girl attempting to fly around the world crashed her plane and died. HILARIOUS! You make paper airplanes, name them after neurotransmitters and hang them from the ceiling. You paste glow in the dark stars across the dorm room ceiling and call it the big bang. Later, you think you’ve fallen in love with your roommate and you get a bit jealous when she flirts with your friend and maybe you lock her out of the room for several hours while you cry it out. This will not be the last time you humiliate yourself because of a girl. Oh, no. Not even close. Get used to that. Years from now you’ll know what love really feels like and you’ll realize that what you felt before was just a crush. We all have them. We all embarrass ourselves on account of them. Just wait until you find the real thing, complete with real humiliation. READ MY BLOG FOR THE LAST FIVE MONTHS and you’ll see what it feels like. Hint: It feels like you want to die. And then it gets worse.


Jack in the Box at 3am – crispy chicken sandwich. The campus cafeteria for lunch – grilled cheese and french fries. DO NOT EAT THAT BURRITO FROM THE DORM CAFETERIA! Be ye warned. You will find yourself puking your guts out for two straight days. You will be hot and cold and hot and cold and hot and naked under your comforter when the fire alarm goes off and it’s snowing and you have to trudge down the stairs to evacuate the building and stand around outside wrapped in blankets with no clothes on, puking in the bushes and wanting to die. The grocery store is the perfect place to hang out when you’re drunk because there are so many possibilities. Also, the front registers are a good place to lie down and take a nap.


uncouth heathen’s Tips for Stress-Free Holidays

The holidays are here and what that means for many of us is jamming 400 different family gatherings into two months and trying not to go clinically insane. What follows are my hot tips on how to survive holidays –  honed and refined after 30+ years of being a part of a family with the crazies.

1. Never, no matter how tempting, use the word asshole at a family gathering. Not to directly or indirectly refer to a family member, outsider, pet or inanimate object or even an actual asshole. Save it for January when you’re home, alone in your room and sobbing because the holidays are just that awful and good lord, how hard it was to survive another one. It’s okay then – because no one else is around.  Especially that asshole.

2. If your turkey is on fire, it’s probably done.

3. If your chihuahua is stuck inside your turkey, just let him eat his way out.

4. Do you have unresolved conflict in your family?  Of course you do.  The mere word “family” comes from the Latin familiare, meaning: I hate you with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. This is reason enough to make sure your appetizers are bite sized, easily fling-able and can cover long distances.  I recommend deviled eggs, mini quiche or, if you have one clear shot, a Hickory Farms cheese ball.

5. Most people would suggest that you not go looking for trouble.  Just keep the peace because holidays are supposed to be about caring and love.  I’m going to take this in the other direction.  Just get it out there in the open.  Have you and your sister not spoken for two years and despite that you still show up at the same functions and choose to ignore one another and make the rest of the family uncomfortable?  Well, stop it.  Fist fight on the lawn.  Get Uncle Steve a referee jersey, a whistle and a bottle of Jack.  YOU FIGHT UNTIL SOMEONE IS DEAD AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.

6. In-Laws.  Divorce does have it’s finer points.

7. Whisky

8. More Whisky


One Comment

  1. April 13, 2011

    awesome. you are.

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