Happy Birthday Chooch!

Since I am writing this past midnight, it is officially my dog Chooch's 14th birthday. He can't read this, (on account of his cataracts), but I still want to publicly say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHOOCH!!!

I usually try not to gush (LIE) especially about my dog (LIE), but you cannot claim yourself as human if you look at this photo and not want to love him with every fiber of your being.


So in honor of being a part of my family since I was in the 4th grade, I am going to do the top 14 reasons that I love my dog. (In no particular order)

1. He is so laid back, that even non-dog people like Joni Mandrell, will not only tolerate his presence but pet him and coo his name when he stumbles into a room.

2. He did not put up much of a fight when my sister and I used to adorn him with hats, dresses, wigs and high heeled shoes. Chooch is secure in his manhood to dabble in drag.

3. The way he nudges his nose under my arm when he wants me to continue petting him.

4. He is about 2 and a half feet long and a foot tall. His little puppy legs never grew into his big body.

5. His pure joy and excitement at dinner time or when he hears the faint crinkling of a Kraft single packet.

6. The way he follows me around, and doesn't pick up that I am just walking in circles around the kitchen table to see him follow me around.

7. How used to be able to jump up on my bed in the middle of the night and sleep on my pillow at my head (eventhough I am allergic to his hair... the swollen eyes were worth it)

8. How delicately he takes treats out of my hands, as if he were taking communion.

9. How, unlike most dogs, you can pet him while he eats.

10. How he took refuge under my bed for half his life, and then at the side of Megan's waterbed for the second. It's as if he knew he had obligations to make us both feel loved.

11. How after 13 years of the same in and out routine, he now barks to come in at the front door instead of the sliding door as usual. He is as crazy as a shithouse rat. (I THINK that is the saying.)

12. How he and Dad have an after dinner ritual of laying on the living room floor together.

13. How he used to get excited when he heard the screeching breaks of the school bus, knowing Megan or I would be getting off.

14. Because he is going to live forever.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....


Now Playing: "Soul Meets Body" -Death Cab For Cutie

Hump Day

I WAS going to write about the origin of the phrase "Slaminky Malargy" at the request of a new reader, but I had a pretty random evening that could not go unmentioned.

I had a dinner date with Abby at El Vaquero, the best Mexican restaurant in Columbus. Since she spent 3 weeks in Africa, she had a hankering for the comida delisiosa and I was happy to be the lucky patron to accompany her. As usual, we ordered the queso (that is Spanish for "cheese") and I tried the #144 (a burrito filled with beans and rice) that Abby has been faithful to for about a year. I wasn't a big fan, but had my fill of chips and queso and about a million diet cokes, that I SHOULD have been rolled out of there on a dolly.

As we paid, the rather short host commented on the t-shirt I was wearing then followed Abby and I out the door, presenting us with taffy from the cashier's counter. In a heavy accented voice he told us that we were very pretty, and we thanked him for the compliment and the confectionary treat. If anyone thinks I am pretty after consuming that much mexican cuisine, I should marry that person.

After Abby and I hung out for a bit, I headed home. As I drove on 315, I got a call from Laura who was hanging out with the guy neighbors next door. She put one of them on the phone (HUGE pet-peeve) and told me that I HAD to come over for a beer. Rarely do I turn down free alcohol or such invitations from boys, so I headed over to the gathering.

Upon arrival, I recognized one of the neighbor boys and was not pleased with who it turned out to be. I am the kind of person who never forgets a face and usually creeps people out with my memory of people, places or things. (Ask my friends.) Vince, the neighbor I recognized, and I had a run-in about 2 years ago at Bowling Green at a bar called Kamikazes. My best friend from Miami, Elena, and I were visiting my sister Megan, who was a freshman at the time.

We were dancing, drinkng heavily, and having a good old time. It was Megan's first trip to the bars since she started college and Elena and I were showing her how to do it right. All of the sudden Vince came up to Megan with a sugar packet and handed it to her, letting her know that she dropped her name tag. Megan was polite, as always, and Elena and I let him know that he was pretty lame. Megan didn't really want to talk to him, but he was up in her face, and I could tell she was getting uncomfortable. Being the big sister I am, I told him to take a hike, and he then asked Elena and I where we lived. We told him that we went to Miami, and that we were just visiting Megs, and he started in on how Miami girls are snobs and bitches and the same thing we hear everytime we meet someone who doesn't/didn't go to Miami. Elena had had enough of it and told him to bugger off (she's not english, I just like that saying) and he started to get in her face calling her the biggest snob he has ever met and so on and so forth. And had a few choice comments for me as well.

So when I officially met him tonight, I immediately call him out on his douche bag actions and to my surprise, he felt really bad. He did comment on my freak-ass memory, and apologized for being a drunken dickhead. We ended up having a pretty nice evening, drinking a couple beers and listening to some music and even having a bit of a sing-a-long. (Definitely listened to "I would do anything for love" by Meatloaf. Remember kids: he's down with the butt plug.)


And when I got home, Abby had sent me a link to the Time magazine website. On the website, you can check the cover that was published during your birthday. Mine was something about being an extrodinary week, but Abby's cover is priceless: HERPES. Of all covers...

If you want to check yours go to
http://www.time.com/time/coversearch
it's about halfway down the page.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...


Now playing: "I Want to Break Free" -Queen (in honor of haning with Abby tonight, who loves Queen)

Jukebox Hero

Since Miranda said I am her walking jukebox, and Scotty Gee has me as "Erin The Jukebox" to link my blog on his site, I think I am going to make a music suggestion at the bottom of every post.

I'm starting with my favorite song ever. Now granted, this isn't the BEST song ever, or even close to it. But every single time I hear it, it makes me pump my fist (tell-tale sign I like a song) and do a little air drum work, no matter what kind of mood I'm in.

So I want to send a special THANK YOU to The Outfield for recording "Your Love" and making my life just a little bit better each time I hear it.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Captain Fathead

Although the title of this post is the nickname I was given my junior year in college by my dear friend and roommate Lauren as I blocked the TV with my gargantuan melon (a la "So I Married an Axe Murderer"), it doesn't actually have to do with the physical size of my dome, but the compliments I received today that may have inflated my ego a bit.

(By the way, Lauren is now referred to as Crapface, so don't feel bad for me.)


I got the chance to hang out with my cousin Andrea and her boyfriend Scott this evening. We had some Chinese, watched a little boob tube (um... why didn't anyone inform me that Nip and Tuck was basically soft-core porn with a plot?.... delicious) and had a few laughs. Randomly Andrea told me that I bring out the goofiness in them, in people in general. What a compliment.

As if my head wasn't already like an orange on a toothpick, I get on the computer to chat with Miranda.

Yrtle: did you download that James Blunt song?

MLJ: yeah I love it

Yrtle: see I wouldn't let you down

MLJ: I knew you wouldnt, you are my walking jukebox

*****It may not sound like much to you, but it made my night. Then we showed off our smarts:

MLJ: what is a juke?

Yrtle: no idea, I am a jukebox, not a dictionary ;-)

MLJ: haha I was just about to say "looks like I might have to consult my good friend dictionary.com

Yrtle: i love dictionary.com. I love vocabulary. I am a nerd

MLJ: A roadside or rural establishment offering liquor, dancing, and often gambling and prostitution. Also called juke house, juke joint

Yrtle: yes, I have heard juke joint. You just named my favorite things

MLJ: you like prostitution?

Yrtle: very much

MLJ: what would we do without the internet

Yrtle: we would have to read a book


Don't worry faithful readers! (All tens of you). I won't let these compliments go to my head, especially when I have a working enviroment as encouraging as I do. Earlier today my co-worker was talking to me about writing checks and paying bills. She said:

"When you grow up, you should really think of duplicate checks." AND SHOOK HER FINGER AT ME.

So that knocked me down a few pegs. Glad I am not viewed as capable of paying bills like an adult. I should tell her when I grow up I want to be a jukebox. That will show her.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Spinal Tap

Marty DiBergi: Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?

Nigel Tufnel: [pause] These go to eleven.


My grandmother had major spinal surgery this morning and had some of her vertebrae fused, which is a pretty scary procedure, but Grandma B. is a tough old broad and everything went as well as it possibly could have. Supposedly they have these metal screws in her, which will most likely set off Airport Security resulting in a likely embarrassing pants dropping incident down the line.

Well, since laughter is the best medicine (or Jack Daniels... I can't remember which) I went to the hospital to check on Grandma and hopefully provoke a chuckle or two. (I brought a flask of JD, just in case whiskey IS the best medicine).

As some of you know, I come from a big Italian family, and to my cousin Andrea and my dismay, there aren't many secrets that stay.... well... secrets. I don't want to be the pepetuator (is that a word?) of secrets.... but I don't care, because this is about my uncle, and he doesn't care for me much anyway!

Hospitals often bring up other surgeries or ailments, and my grandma proceeded to talk about my uncle's hemorrhoid and the measures taken to remove such pests. Well, since I have the maturity level of a junior high boy, I start giggling and then this leads into a whole hemorrhoid Q & A.

Q. How do you get them?
A. Straining when you lift heavy objects, or frequently sitting down for long periods of time. Pregnant women often get them after delivery.

and so forth.....

Guess who walks in?.....



Uncle Hemorrhoid that's who!

And since we aren't shy, Grandpa greets him with, "Hey! We were just talking about your hemorrhoids!"

Needless to say... I LOST IT.

The whole room (both grandparenst, my dad, two cousins) errupts in big belly laughs and my Dad is once again proud of his little girl, because she can't stop laughing and every glance in her uncle's direction she laughs so loud it can be heard at the nurses station down the hall. My uncle gets all huffy and informs me that hemorrhoids are not as much funny as painful and he might have to have another surgery to get rid of them.

God, it is even funny as I am sitting here writing it. No uncle, I do NOT want to know anything about your butt or the problems occuring in or around your butt, but I will laugh at you. And laugh loud I will.

Either way, we got a few laughs out of Grandma, who looks absolutely amazing. I wish I looked that good when I got up in the morning, let alone major surgery. Maybe those genes will kick in when I am 60.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Easy as...

I was helping my good friend Abby via IM in how to upload photos on a website, and I finished the online tutorial with telling her that the process was "Easy as Pie."

Where the hell did that saying come from? How is pie "easy"? Easy as in slutty? Easy to eat? Because I assure you my friends that pie is NOT easy to make. Have you ever in your life tried to make a pie from scratch? I even have misfortune when trying to bake a Sara Lee, premade and ready to pop in the oven. There are countless flavors of this palatable pastry and I can safely say that I would upload photos on Flickr faster than creating any type of delectable pie.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

mmm I want some pie now....

mmmmm Meatloaf

When Meatloaf sang "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that" what was the "that" he was referring to?

I bet it has something to do with a butt plug.

Just a thought.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

OK Computer

I WISH this post has something to do with Radiohead, but alas, it about The Rat Bastard (my laptop) again.

If there are any computer savvy people in the greater Columbus area, maybe you could drop by and help me figure out why my notebook HATES me. I am starting to see why there are so many Apple Lovers out there. If I could have afforded an Apple, I probably would have purchased one, but alas, I am not a rich girl.... na na na na na na na.

I have a an HP product... a Compaq to be precise, and I just need a little help. I wish I was back in college, where there was a MIS major only a stones throw away and could easily be persuaded to help me with my ancient, three foor tower desktop for a case of beer and maybe a meal at Bagel and Deli.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

80s Ladies Night

As you can see I have changed the template of my blog. With the help of my sister's boyfriend, Paul, he also showed this computer illiterate imbecile how to upload photos as well.

This photo doesn't have much relevancy per say, but I love it and I love the 80s.... (strikes back).

I should attend more theme parties.... so that means I need to be invited to more theme parties.... jump on that folks.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes....

I am debating whether or not to change the template of the blog. I have come to think that the current color is kind of depressing and blah but then again, it is easy to read. I think I might just be in the mood for something different. Your feedback would be kindly appreciated.


Other than that, no real news. I have been expanding my own blogging pleasure and been "lurking" on other sites.... mostly ones recommended by Tracie. I haven't left the house since Monday on account of my leg and not being able to drive. I am seeing the surgeon tomorrow and if he says I have to actually undergo surgery, I am going to chop it off instead, and then will have the peg-leg every REAL pirate needs.

Since Saturday, I have been watching ENTIRELY too much TV and become Queen of the Remote, I have to get a good book here soon. I even have a long list of books that I am dying to read, but I have major library fines that just might break the bank. So, in the meantime, I have defintitely been enjoying reruns of Girlfriends on TV. It's a WB/UPN (I'm not sure which) show and it not really all that great, but it is a delicious guilty pleasure.... that I am obviously not so guilty about since I am telling the Internet.

I also shattered a plate on the kitchen floor today as I was trying to carry said plate in my mouth while crutching from the counter to the table. Let me tell you that sweeping up glass bits while on crutches is pretty impossible.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Step on a crack and you'll break yo mama's back

I found out officially this past Friday that my leg is in fact broken. I have an oblique fracture in my fibula and it hurts like a bitch. The doctors informed me that I was basically a dumbass for waiting a week and walking on it before getting an X-ray. I just like to think instead of dumbass, they meant badass for being able to handle the pain.

I have a splint on it now, and am waiting to see my orthopedic surgeon to see if I need surgery or a permanent cast because of the splintering I did to the bone for walking on it.

Now, I have broken all of my limbs: Both arms in kindergarten (not at the same time though. I broke one, and after a week from getting my cast removed, I broke the other one), my left leg in High School during a softball game when I slid into second base (I DID finish the game because we would have had to forfeit if I had left... I then immediately drove myself home then went to the hospital),then this unfortunate accident at the OSU tailgate.

I think I am all stocked up on injuries for awhile, but I have a lot of time on my hands. So comment if you would like to cheer me up.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Katrina

I am sitting here reading my last few posts and am growing disgusted with my "poor me" attitude I have been taking this summer. Ok, so some craptastic things have happened (hit car, stolen camera, broken laptop and sprained ankle.... to name a few) and even the two tragic deaths of my cousin Michael and then our friend John that have left me quite empty inside.

But through all my bitching, I am still sitting at a computer in my clean, dry house, unaffected physically, by Hurricane Katrina and her powerful aftermath. I think I have avoided this topic, because I TRY to be funny in my posts, but even my sarcastic bitching isn't doing anything for me as our country is in shambles.

I won't be on my soap box for too long, but as I listen to my friends fight about OSU tailgating and beer and red bull and their "principles" I ask them to look beyond themselves and their self-important lives to remember that life is too short and we need to think about the bigger picture. I sit and watch the news coverage, crying in disbelief of the suffering and turmoil this natural disaster has left our Gulf States.

If you can't afford to donate your time or your money, I can understand. But could you please get over yourself for five minutes and quit your bitching about your latte not being hot enough, or having to walk that extra 5 minutes from a parking space to your office, or that your new laptop is broken? (I include myself in this.)

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Play That Funky Music White Boy

O-H......I-O!!

It's that time again, the start of the OSU Buckeyes football season. I couldn't wait for this past Saturday, in particular, because not only is it the start of a season of unabashedly singing "Hang on Sloopy" at the top of my lungs at LEAST twice every game day, but the season opener was played against my alma mater: Miami University... the Redhawks.

I geared up my weekend by singing with the two guitarist from the band I sing with, Alum Valley. We played at the ever so posh, Berkshire campground party house.... no joke. It was alright, but the smoking ban has not reached out that far into the sticks, and I had not yet realized how much I did, in fact, enjoy the ban. Imagine walking into a bar, where I have to sing no less, and not have to worry about watery eyes and a scratchy throat! There is something refreshing breathing in clean air while I am rotting my liver with booze.

Anyway, I sang my usual seven songs, and had a really great crowd of friends and family drive all the way out there to hear me... thanks guys!

The game started at noon on Saturday so I wanted to get to Millergate (the tailgate I usually attend) by around 10 a.m. After waiting on my sister and her boyfriend, picking Miranda and the beer up, getting dunkin' donuts, and trying to find a parking space, we got there at 11:30 in time to down a few beers before kick off. Instead of rooting against either team, I decided to wear my pirate shirt that says "Bad to the Bone" because in all actuality, I root for the scallywags every chance I get. (Not to be confused with the Pittsburgh Pirates... whom I NEVER root for.)

The game was a Buckeyes success, which was too bad for Mother Miami, but I can't say I am disappointed.... we are pursuing Pasadena you know. (National Championship)

After the game, we begin the celebratory dance party and this is where all hell breaks loose. I was dancing it up to the disco fave "Play that Funky Music" by Wild Cherry when out of nowhere comes Nick Miller and his hips of death! The 6'3'' ex-OSU football player decides to reminisce and bust out some moves, including the "bump" into me that knocked my balance as I shook my own groove thang. I tried to catch myself, but soon realized there was a flimsy lawn chair behind me that got tangled in my legs. I was all too aware of the short skirt I was wearing and the expensive new digital camera in my pocket, so I tried to soften the fall. Instead I rolled my ankle and sprained it badly causing me to hobble around on crutches ever since.

I was a trooper and decided to brave the downtown bar scene so I could hang out with my out of towner friends.... bad call. I mistakenly thought that being a girl on crutches would not only invoke a soft spot in the bar patrons so that they would move out my way, but also buy me a shot or two. Neither happened, and instead re-enacted Lisa Turtle's infamous dance "The Sprain" from Saved By the Bell. I was not nearly as cool.

The Labor Day weekend I had busted my ass all week for, proved to be far less fun that I had hoped. Even though I got to meet some devastatingly gorgeous foreign boys visiting from the likes of England, Scotland, Wales, and my new favorite Australia. Oh dear how I loved that Aussie....he could have been my unicorn. Alas, he leaves on Thursday for Denver to see my beloved Dave Matthews at Redrocks, the best venue to see him, and now I am green with envy. Oh how I hope our paths cross again someday.

I had to take the day off work today to rest the ankle and have since become EXTREMELY bored. I only have 4 days to recuperate for the big OSU vs. Texas game on Saturday night. And nothing is gonna break my stride, nothing is gonna slow me down... oh no... I got to keep on moving. (Lame)

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

The King Midas Touch

I have been feeling "down in the dumps" (such a mother's expression) lately and this is probably why I have not posted in awhile.... so to my tens of readers, sorry if you have been checking back looking for a small glimpse into my glamorous life. I know how you feel. I have been checking my dear Flounder's blog www.emotionaltoothpaste.blogspot.com thrice daily in hopes she has left me with some of her inherit wisdom. So Tracie... where are you? I miss you!

Anywho... it seems that everything I touch lately has turned to crap. Quite different from the fairytale of King Midas who had the golden touch... not to be confused with the golden shower. (Groan.)

I bought myself a new laptop mid-July, and like the child I once was, and still am, was fascinated with her new toy and its capabilities. It was right up there with ANY My Little Pony or She-ra doll I ever got, and now.... it is broken. I am not... how do you say.... a computer genius by ANY means, so I don't know how this happened in the first place. I basically own one for mp3s, internet, AIM, solitaire, and word.... in that order. Now my new laptop is only referred to as a "rat bastard" and I swear if I don't get help from Tech Support soon, I may just throw that rat bastard out the damn window. I THINK I have figured out that the hard drive is fucked up, and that is about it.

So lets see.... since the beginning of summer my car has been hit, my cell phone has broken, my first camera was defective, the second camera was stolen, and now rat bastard will not start. So what have we learned today boys and girls? It doesn't pay to own anything nice.

How excited are all of you to come to my site and read my bitching and moaning? I thought so!

Other than that I am alright. I am singing with a/my band on Friday night and then the Miami U. vs. OSU game is on Saturday, and there isn't anything I like better than to drink in the morning at a tailgate. Bring on the brew dogs!

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...