Tag Archives: weekend

Air Kicks

the bee: You can go on into the bathroom first this morning.

me: UGH.

b: What?!

m: Well, thanks and all but it’s just so CA-CA-CA-COLD in there. *jitterbugs around the bed in a fetal position to really drive home the point*

b: *slowly turns body in opposite direction*

m: I wish you could air kick me like the Transporter into the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to touch the cold tiles.

b: Do what now? Like who?

m: You KNOW. Like the Transporter. Jason Statham. He is like a master of air kicks.

b: What are “air kicks?”

m: You’re kidding me, right?

b: But aren’t all kicks “air kicks”?

m: Pffffffffffffffffffft. No.

Air kicks are when you are specially trained in martial arts or something and you can make your body fly through the air with your legs shooting straight out, readied like a fist so you can kick-fist someone in the face.

b: Wouldn’t that be called a “flying kick” then?

m: I doubt it. Jason Statham can’t fly, but birds can. Flies can fly. Even planes can fly. You know why? Because they have wings. Jason Statham does not have wings, therefore he cannot “fly kick“, he air kicks.

b: Well, since you’ve presented your case with such an overwhelming amount of logic and reason, I suppose I have no other option but to agree with you.

m: I’m glad I could help you come to your senses.

Now.

Ready?

One, Two, Three… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand GO!

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Waterworld. Except subtract the part about water. And don’t expect any Kevin Costner references either…

Since Saturday morning we’ve been praying to the gods of water and early springtime thaw in the hope that one of them might hear us and grant us a taste of modern civility, in the form of luscious, glittering, watery water flowing from the taps once more.

Considering we’ve had a foot or more of snow on the ground for the last month, finding our pipes frozen was likely to have happened. I probably should have been expecting something regardless since I also managed to get two flat tires on two different occasions just since the new year, which leads me to ask:

For who?

For ME?! (presses hands to chest)

Oh, no… (fans hand out as though to say: I simply COULDN’T)

I mean…

I simply COULDN’T.

It wouldn’t be fair to all the other, less fortunate car tires with fully inflated rubber housing…

It seems only fitting that we should top it off with this now.

I mean, it’s not the WORST thing that could happen with the house. No, because the WORST thing that could happen probably-already happened to us last year. And it’s still nowhere near as bad as that time when we had crickets in our bed. Because I’m still not OK with what happened there…

I’ve been fine with not being able to do the dishes or brush my teeth using running water. I’ve learned to “spot clean” myself with baby wipes and de-crust dirty silverware with the leg of my sweatpants.

It’s been a lot like camping. Only a lot less fun.

I even figured out a way to make coffee!

Part one:

Collect some snow.

Part two:

Wait for it to melt.

Part three:

Make coffee?

Because of its “nature-y” ingredients I’ve taken to calling it Winter’s Blend…

But this post isn’t supposed to be about the merits of making snow coffee. It’s about how much it sucks using the toilet when you don’t have any running water.

It’s also been a really long time since we’ve had a proper discussion involving poop on this blog so here you go:

Saturday, 11:30 PM

me: *tummy gurgles* Oh. Um. Yeah...

I think I need to, you know, “go”. Don’t mind me, I’ll be right back…

the bee: Wait. Where are you going?

m: To the BATHroom. I have to “go”. You know, like “go” go.

b: Yeah, I get it but you can’t “go” in there.

m: (squints eyes, furrows brow) Whadaya MEAN I can’t go in there? Where am I supposed to go?!

b: My mom’s house, for one. If you run you could be inside in 10 seconds.

m: Excuse me, but I am NOT going over to your mom’s at midnight just to have to explain the reason for my visit is because I need to “drop something off”. UGGGGH! Embarrassing much?

b: Well, you can’t “go” in our toilet if we can’t flush.

m: (drops to knees and shakes fists) You can take away my toilet, bee… but you can’t take away my priiiiiiiide!!!

b: Oh, please… I’ve known you to use a trash can if you rea-

m: (lightbulb illuminates above head, eyes widen and finger points upward in excited victory)

*door slam*

b: (faces bathroom in disgust and horror)

*shouts* Just make sure you take it out when you’re done! *under breath* …you filthy animal.

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The Union, Forever

This Sunday, (me) and the bee get married. 

We’re both incredibly excited and more than a little relieved, mainly because after Sunday we can finally take a deep breath and relax a bit before our celebratory marriage party, held 2 weeks after that. 

The other day we both confided in each other how we *kind of* couldn’t wait for it all to be over so things can go back to normal. I’ve never planned a wedding before and I’m sure it’s a different experience for everyone, but for me, aside from being a fun and exciting opportunity to flaunt my creative feathers, it has been EXHAUSTING

The last few months have been a blur of planning and scheduling and arranging and procuring. I can honestly say I will be very grateful when we can look back on this with a smile because all our hard work really paid off but even more so because I’ll be looking back. Hopefully from the comforts of my living room. With no future plans other than: What poor excuse for a meal will I be stuffing my face with this evening? 

I thought I’d share some photos we took back in April when we brought our lomo-cams out with us to the park we inevitably chose as our ceremony locale. We went back there this past weekend to scout out the perfect spot. Instead, we found MULTIPLE places we think we might want to use for such a momentous occasion. 

We figure it’ll all sort itself out that day. Plus, everything else about our wedding plans have been last-minute so why start doing things any differently now! 

a path through the park*

a view of the lake **

a lonely daffodil on the fence*

me, on a park bench overlooking a potential location for our vow exchange**

*taken by (me) with a Holga fitted w/ a fish eye lens 

**taken by the bee with a Diana F+ fitted w/ an instant back (comes out like a Polaroid, only smaller)

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Flickr Friday: Illuminated Star-Gazers

For this week’s edition I’ve chosen a favorite of mine taken by the bee from our recent camping/cabin trip to Western PA. The stars were brilliant and plentiful out there even if the cell reception was anything but. Guess you can’t win ’em all…
A group of us went up the mountain to a popular elk viewing post that was all but deserted at nighttime. The air was cold and full of allergens which is why you will see me rocking the bandit look in the background. While the star-gazers stared heaven bound, the bee used a flashlight to paint our persons during a long exposure shot.
The result (as you can see for yourself) is quite cool, giving the black night setting a glowing illumination so each of us can be seen in the image. A job well done, I say…

For more from our amazing (as usual) trip to rural Pennsylvania check out the bee’s photo set on Flickr.

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Flickr Friday: Good Morning


morning
Originally uploaded by bee3six5

I’ve decided to mix it up a bit and kick-off my inaugural Flickr Friday with a photo taken by the bee last weekend while visiting friends in Montreal. There were MANY pictures taken, most of mine on the Holga so I will have to wait (probably a while) before I get those negatives developed so I can share them. In the meantime, here is one of my favorite images from our trip.

For more from our mini Montreal get-away check out the bee’s photo set on Flickr.

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I went to BlogHer and all I got was…

a(n all TOO) close encounter with irritable bowel syndrome, an inflated inferiority complex and my period.

Before I get into the moment by moment break down of my conference experience I think I should first preface this post by saying any and all general negativity derived cannot really be blamed on any one or thing other than myself.

This experience taught me, if nothing else, that I am not a particularly good social networker, either on or offline and although I think I might possibly one day be an a’ight blogger, I will never be anything close to an “elite” persona because it’s just. not. me.

I am pretty sure my perspective of the conference was different from that of most attendees. I didn’t stay at the hotel or attend any of the keynotes or parties. 

Because of this?

I’m pretty sure I missed out on a large chunk of the experience. Again, nobody’s fault but my own. From the beginning I wasn’t really interested in attending parties or the immersing myself in the overwhelming social aspect of this event.

In retrospect, I guess that was my first mistake since so much of BlogHer is about hobnobbing and gettin’ down during off-hours.

*sigh*

Let’s do this shall we?

I start Friday morning off fairly well. I get up, have my coffee, get dressed and I’m actually out the door ahead of schedule!

We-ow!

My main goal is to attend all the available sessions so I can gain as much how-to-be a better blogger tids and bits as logistically possible.

There is a welcome breakfast followed by something called “Speed Dating, BlogHer-style” that I’m not all that keen on making it to NYC in time for. Knowing what I know now, my lack of interest in activities such as these should have probably been an early sign to me that I wasn’t going to get as much from this conference as countless others BUT I’m stubborn, so on we go…

Everything is going according to plan, I’m in the car driving up the turnpike, listening to a little Rilo Kiley for inspiration and good vibes when ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL of a sudden… my innards start shouting Mayday! and I have nary a floatation device at hand.

If you know what I’m saying…

I’m talking this is the WORST and I do mean The. Worst. stomach pains I’ve ever had so far away from a toilet in-my-entire-life. I don’t have much recourse here but to take deep breaths and pray to a god I’m not so sure gives a shit about my GI problems.

The severe pains persist all the way through the Lincoln Tunnel up into Manhattan.

Have I mentioned that at this point I have fallen a bit off course and I’m now stuck in traffic on a street I shouldn’t have turned down in the first place?

Because I am.

So I get to the Hilton with some time to spare and I ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun to the bathroom where next to nothing happens. That’s right. Next to nothing. Let’s leave it at that. So whatever, I’m still on schedule and I didn’t crap my pants.

The first session is O.K. Kind of vague and over-generalized and initiate my feelings of inferiority in this particular atmosphere.  It’s at this point where I first start to fear that: I do not belong.

Lunch feels like something out of the first day of highschool; shuffling my way into a large room cautiously glancing about for the sight of a familiar, or at least non-hostile, face.

I begin to feel as I often do when stressed and unsure: not hungry.

After lunch, or as I had – half of a 1/5 of a sandwich and 2 pieces of watermelon, I skip outside to partake in an activity often used as a crutch, security blanket or just plain god-awful but for whatever reason, unavoidable, addiction: smoking. I’m not proud to say that I still use cigarettes as a social tool but I never said I was perfect. Anyway, thank GOD for smoking because that’s where I start to feel the natural ease of fraternization return.

I often use the term organic when referring to situations that unfold in a natural, unforced way. I hate being fake or feeling fake or pressured to “perform” in order to adapt myself to large social settings.  I’m not in the business of getting people to like me under false pretense. I am who I am and unfortunately (for me) that means I’m not all that marketable, at least not to those who aren’t willing to break through my crunchy exterior and the find the warm and gooey mess that lurks beneath my crackly shell.

Try not to take that last part too literally…

I did meet one person who seemed up to the challenge of my (apparently) prickly personality though I doubt I made a huge splash with most of the other folks at the conference. I’ve always been that person who is often pigeonholed as snobby or aloof when really I just hate small talk. Is that SO wrong?

Ugh. It is isn’t it?

So, instead of fitting in or making friends right off the bat, I usually come off as a strange awkward alien or I just make unintentional enemies. The honest to god truth is that of the (very few) people I am still friends with since my childhood I can’t think of a single one who upon first knowing me who just did NOT like me. Then again, I am a shitty friend so, I guess I fooled THEM!

foolish, FOOLISH, sucka...

So day one is over and I leave feeling at least a little better now that I had found ONE person who seemed to not want to flee in terror from my presence. I get seriously lost on my way back to the Lincoln Tunnel due to my having absolutely NO sense of direction (thanks, Dad!). I finally make it home, just a lot later than I should have.

Day two’s drive is EXPONENTIALLY better than day one, with no almost-exploding-bowel-syndrome or inconvenient slow-motion tours down 7th Ave.

On a Friday.

During rush hour.

Because that was fun.

I meet up with my new friend for a smoke before the first sessions of the day and already feel better than I did the day before.

*objects in this picture are not as close as they seem. (i'm pretty sure my camera was on 20x zoom or, as I like to call it, super-stealth-stalk-mode a.k.a. i'm way too embarrassing to actually go up to her and ask for a real picture so this will have to do)

I attend the session with Jenny the Bloggess, mainly because I think she’s cute and hilarious and a complete and total inspiration to me as both a blogger and a humorist and she proves to be all that and more. She is probably even more cute and funny in person even though I never thought it humanly possible or particularly fair to the rest of us. There are numerous times she has the crowd lol-ing in their seats and at one point I’m thinking someone might misconstrue the literal SCREAMS of laughter for screams of slaughter.

Apparently no one else was all that concerned…

As far as day two of the conference, this is the highlight of my day. Aside from lunch, that is. The rest of the sessions leave me feeling *kind of* depressed. I begin to feel more and more out of my element as the day wears on and being that it’s the bee’s birthday my mind is most definitely elsewhere.

I swear that in writing about this experience it was not my goal to bad-mouth or bash BlogHer. It just wasn’t really the right fit for ME. Had I been a bit more immersed in “the scene” or been a mom, or more of a business oriented woman of tomorrow, it may have been more impactful. In a good way. Instead I just felt like I didn’t belong. It wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that I discovered this thing called “Birds of a Feather” where you sign up on a list to sit with/meet like-minded bloggers.

Had I known about this sooner, I probably would have exchanged a lot more business cards…

All in all it was a learning experience and I did walk away with a lot more knowledge than I had to begin with but more than anything I learned that I just don’t belong with the BlogHer crowd. In a few years time? Perhaps. I think I would benefit from a smaller blogging offline network, one where I wouldn’t feel like SUCH a small fish in an all-encompassing ocean of internet experience and clique-ish-ness.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. I went there…

I want to wrap this up by saying that in almost every way BlogHer lived up to the expectations I set around it before I ever set foot in the Hilton. I knew it would be clique-y and miles above my head technically and professionally. The problem that I had was BlogHer didn’t exceed my expectations, which I had so hoped it would and probably all of us hope will happen no matter what situation we’re thrown into.

And, yet again, whose fault is this?

***please point fingers in direction of computer screen***

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Weekend Bee-ject’s #24

All images were captured by the bee between July 4th – 10th with a Digital Harinezumi V.2:

sooooOOOooooo emo...

Click here for additional patriotism & true American spirit.

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Weekend Bee-ject’s #23

Sooooooooooooo… the bee has been slacking. 

You should go visit him and tell him as much because obviously just the amount of guilt he gets from me isn’t enough. 

Plus, I’m kind of tired of being “the nag”. Now it’s your turn

I’m not saying I’m the most motivated person either. I usually have trouble just convincing myself to brush my teeth on days when I don’t come into contact with others. 

So… 

Since I’ve given you a taste of stinklefritz’s newfound love, I thought I’d give you some photographic evidence to back that ass up. 

I caught him like this: 

So I thought I’d see what he’d do if I turned on the faucet he loves so much WHILE he was still in there: 

either this cat loves water or he's INCREDIBLY lazy. or both.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we? 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

 

 

 

If I can teach him how to turn off the faucet when he’s finished… I think I’ll give him a set of keys to the house.

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Weekend Bee-ject’s #18

Though not typical, this week’s batch of rejects all happened to take place down the shore or on our way there. Here’s to the unofficial start of Summer!

Thank Jebus…

All images were captured by the bee between May 23rd – 29th with a Digital Harinezumi V.2:

Go to bee3six5 for more tiny camera majestification.

***

To maintain the subtle, yet consistent this is MY blog now, bitch feline theme of the past few weeks, a bonus picture:

silent film star: Scott McKitten

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Tomato Soup Spatter is Forever a Part of our Kitchen Décor a.k.a. So What? Who Cares?! (to be said in the voice of Joy Behar as played by SNL’s Fred Armisen)

I refuse to give up on my quest for obtaining domesticity points in the kitchen however much the odds are stacked against me. Over the weekend I did the unthinkable. I made my first ever attempt at going solo in dinner preparation and it was only semi-disastrous!

Ok, maybe it was 1/3 disastrous, 1/3 successful and 1/3 entirely too simple to completely fuck up even for me so can I really consider this a Grande feat at all?

The answer is yes, people. The answer is YES.

In a strange twist of events I took to food prep this evening while the bee did something. It’s been like 4 days, do really expect me to remember what? GAWD.

The recipe was easy enough:

4 Tomatoes (I would advise picking something extra red & juicy like a Roma tomato because it’ll make a big difference in the final product. I would know, I’m cheap and used shitty tomatoes so mine could have been way better.)

4 Cups Tomato Juice (Any brand. Doesn’t matter.)

1 Cup Heavy Cream (You could probably get away with using less.)

1/4 Cup Butter

Pinches of Salt, Pepper & Parsley

Simmer, puree, re-heat add some more stuff and serve!

Easy enough, right?

HA!!!!

The directions first called for dicing, peeling and seeding the tomatoes, then adding those and the tomato juice to a large pot to simmer for 30 minutes.

That part = so wildly successful that I felt like calling the bee into the kitchen just to show him how good I did much like a little kid might call their mom into the bathroom after making their first big kid poo in the grown-up potty.

Monumental, to say the least.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand here’s the part called DISASTER

The directions next called for the concoction on the stovetop to be transferred into a blender to be pureed until there was nothing left but liquid-y goodness.

This should have been a simple CLEAN transition but nothing, I mean NO-THING, in my life is simple or clean.

I managed to pour a decent amount of the pre-puree onto the counter and all around the base of the blender during the first transfer.

Not a huge deal. Just wiped it up.

Now that I’d transferred the tomato slop from one vessel to another you would think the worst was behind me but oh how very very WRONG you would be.

Apparently I don’t know how to use a blender because after actively procrastinating and tentatively pressing buttons to ensure I was doing things the “right” way everything that could have possibly gone wrong basically did.

I THOUGHT I had my hand on the lid. I THOUGHT I had control over the electrical spinney device with razor sharp killing apparatus inside. Maybe I was a little TOO apprehensive which was what ultimately caused the lid to fly off and tomato puree to spew EV-ER-Y-WHERE.

On the floor. On the counter. On the stove. IN the crevice BETWEEN the counter and the stove (and that shit is there permanently, ya’ll). On the oven. In the sink. On the mini-blinds ABOVE the sink as well as ALL-OVER-MYSELF.

This is what our kitchen typically looks like:

And this is what our kitchen looked like after I was let loose in that bitch:

At this point, there was no other recourse but to have the bee step in. He assisted in some of the clean-up and manned the blender because I had proven that I was clearly less than able to complete this otherwise straight-forward task.

No use in crying over spilled tomato slop, right?

Well apparently nobody told me that because even after the blender disaster and the 30 minutes of clean-up it required and gaining assistance from the bee and finally having (what was supposed to be) the most difficult part of the process behind me I managed to YET AGAIN! spill that shit when pouring it from the blender back into the pot.

Once more, liquid tomato is all over the stove AND the counter top AND dribbling down the oven door into a pool of mess on the kitchen floor.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand this is when I start to cry.

Because I’m clearly a total head-case/loser-faced toolbox who can’t even manage to POUR.

It was then that I realized that this last mess might not have been completely my fault.

Here’s a picture of our blender:

That handy little pouring “lip” didn’t do diddley SQUAT for me. You would have thought that I had used a garden hose to get that stuff back into the pot with the amount of residual spray there was in the kitchen.

So I cleaned it up AGAIN, alone this time, mainly because I was too ashamed proud to ask for help.

And just so this seems like it’s a legit-type recipe post I’ll have you know that the rest of it went off without a hitch. I just brought that baby back to a simmer, added the butter and the cream and…

VOILA!!!

the black stuff is parsley (i think)

OH-MAGAHD.

I almost forgot to mention my s e c r e t ingredient…

SUGAR!!!

LOTS of sugar. Like 3 tablespoons of that stuff. Minimum.

Holy crap.

Did you just read a cooking post of mine?

I’ve got 2 words for you:

Death. Wish.

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