Peach Cobbler With Pecans on Top

"Ugly babies is hard to find...but they out there"
~Adele Givens

If you do not know who Adele Givens is, do yourself and everyone you love a favor and look the woman up and watch some of her stand up.  You're welcome.

Okay, here's some for you:

This morning I had to deal with a sight that simply should not be.  Lord have mercy.  On my way to an interview (which went well, by the by), I am sitting on the bus.  After a few stops a lady & stroller hop on board.  They are both facing me.

Seriously, I wanted to drop kick this kid.  He not only had a snotty face, he was a freaking whiner.  I am talking Doug & Wendy here.  I mean this kid was just malcontent with his existence.  Period.  Miserable brat.  It was difficult to watch.  I am certain that my face was contorted in disdain.  I tried not to, but the face has a will of it's own sometimes.

I know I complain a bunch, but I am not unhappy with my life.  When people simply loathe to breathe, I cannot deal.  And I do not mean people with genuine mental disorders that cause depression or despair, that is a serious condition.  I mean otherwise healthy people just being discontent for no reason.

I am allowed to bitch about crap because I am fabulous.

So fabulous, in fact, that a begging vagabond fell completely in love with me today.  He was killing me.  First he called to me from across the street and then called me his wife.  He comes and sits by me at the bus stop and was all "you put a spell on me.  What did you get for dinner?  I will go get something and you can cook it for me."

I was all "I'm taken"

"I don't mean no disrespect (which they always love to say that shit - and by they I mean men that do this crap in general).  But ain't nobody gonna tell me how I can feel about you."  He says something about dinner.

I tell him I cannot cook and he looks at me and is like "Quit lying.  I know you can put your foot down in the kitchen."  Ummmm...thanks for calling me a fat ass.

More babble.  I mostly gave one word answers, but was nice enough.  Apparently, I made his day because I was kind.

He closes with "You are peach cobbler with pecans on top"  Awesome.

Ah, life in the Windy City.

p.s. I noticed that I lost some comments the other day before I was able to respond.  Please know I did not delete them.

Mutton's Going On

I am not a stereotypical Greek girl.  I am in some ways; but in many, especially food related, I am not.

Examples of things I hate, dislike or will not partake in:
Raw onions (as in I tell wait staff "don't even put it on my plate" because the taste permeates into other things and ruins my burgers and shit.
 Wine (especially reds, though I have grown to enjoy prosecco)
Heavy garlic
Doing it up the bum.  Kidding.  No - not kidding!  Just kidding that Greek girls like that.  For some reason it's a rumor.  I do not believe it.
Lamb


You heard me.  I do not like lamb - at all.   So when moms is prepping for holidays, she makes sure that there is something else for me and my sister to eat.  I think it's my moms worst fear that I will starve, even though all she does is feed me and then complain that I am a fatty.  Kill me.  Anyway, she'll make pork or something, though if we are barbecuing, there are always burgers, steaks, etc.

My dad is like a mad scientist and likes to make contraptions.  He built this self contained spit that - get this - runs on electricity or it's own generator.  It's a giant metal box with a butcher's block on top.  Just so you know what I am dealing with.

 I went over there last Memorial Day.  All the sibs were coming over.  I hadn;t seen them in a bit so I was stoked.  My dad was grilling some yummies and also had a lamb going in the back yard.

They neighbors were grilling too.  You know, standard fare: hot dogs and burgers and maybe they were getting adventurous with some brats.  I'm not sure.

Meanwhile, the lamb is apparently done.  My dad and brothers plop it on the block, presumably to cut it, right?  My sister in law and two nieces are also out there.

I look out the window and am mortified and hysterically entertained at once.

They are attacking the thing like a pride of lions on a zebra.  I mean literally.  They are just picking at it.  I go out there and my niece is like "just try some".  So I take a piece - read, a piece that is approximately a square centimeter, because that is how I taste things.  She laughs at me.  I take a little bite and am like - nope...still don't like it.

Their neighbors and their guests must have been amazed though.  Can you imagine looking over and seeing people just attacking roast beast?  How freaking ridiculous.

We will have lamb at Easter, but that's out in the woods at my sister's house.  No witnesses.

Let The Right One In

Sometimes when my friends think I am being too hard on someone or not giving them a chance, I shrug and say "Let the right one in."  I say it often actually, in various situations.  It is universal. 

It is not easy to be allowed into my world.  That may seem odd for me to say in what is basically an online diary; but to truly get there takes a long time.

I remember Mark, after about 3 years of us hanging out regularly looked at me in the middle of a conversation and said "Finally.  I'm in!  God damn, that took a long time."  We've been friends for over 15 years.  Let the right one in.

It's not necessarily a reflection of the person.  I am not saying "you should feel special that I let you in". I am simply precious is all.  I can't have some clumsy fucker trying to handle my shit. China dolls are hard & cold, yet fragile. 

Mark and I were discussing a fellow I was talking to on here.  We could not figure out what his deal was. I was like "am I being too easy?"  and we both immediately burst out laughing.  I meant it in a "not being enough of a challenge" way. He was like "that is the last word I would use to describe you".  Not that I am a difficult person, I am congenial - I just do not make it easy for someone to be let in.

But you know what?  Sometimes I am too challenging.  Yet when I am not, I am reminded: let the right one in.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about the movie.  Which of course, when I discovered it, was geeked about the title.

The best movie I saw last year was the Swedish film "Let the Right One In".  Did you pervs see this shit?  It was the most amazing vampire movie I have ever seen.  I shouldn't niche it by saying "vampire movie".  It's a thriller and it's amazing.  The story is brilliant.  It's creepy, seductive and beautiful.  Love it.

Hollywood is of course farting all over it with a remake called "Let Me In".  I admit I did not initially hate the trailer I saw online a long time ago; but am calling shenanigans on the new TV trailers.  Of course, there's some car chase/crash or some shit and she says something in this demon voice, because it's Hollywood and budgets and shock value reign supreme.

They are also changing the meaning of what's going on. Let Me In sounds all like someone's trying to get you. Which is the case, I suppose, but not how you'd expect.  It's more like she's letting the right one in.  I don't want to give too much of it away.  It's so fucking good.  Please watch the original.  It's amazing.  I would not lie to you.

And remember: let the right one in.
XOXO

And Another Thing, I Don't Like Your Moms

Have you ever seen the SNL skit with Maya Rudolph?  I think it's her. Was it ScarJo? It's the skit that that Keenan Thompson has called Deep House Dish and guest singers come on.  I cannot find it on the internets and it is upsetting me.  If you find it, I will give you...something...I don't know what.  Undying love.  I will fucking worship and adore you.

One day, I was downtown on the phone with my friend Mark and recited the lyrics in a conversational tone (I interject other words, but these are the lyrics):

I am tired of both your Great Danes
And another thing....I don't like your mom
And another thing....I do not like your car.
You've got a bad haircut
And your house smells weird.
And I am tired of you calling off our wedding.

Oh, the looks I got with that last line.  It was glorious!  This gorgeous man stopped and looked at me as though to console me.  And he was all in a suit, probably going to a meeting, Point is - not a tourist...someone that has to be somewhere. I just put my hand up and shook my head a little like "please, don't, I'll be okay"

Son of a bitch - he was probably the ONE.  They guy in the suit stops and I brush him away. I am an idiot

So I get a call from Moms today:

I was at your Godmother's.  She has a cousin in Chicago.  Irene.  (me...waiting to hear it....waiting...) She owns a grocery store.  It's like a big store.  Produce and butcher shop. (wait for it...) It's in Chicago.  But I don't know the name.  She could not remember.  But her name is Irene and her son's name is John XXXXXikis (there it is). ..."

 She continues and I go into my mom coma.

Me: laughing "ok mom, great"
Moms: "well can you find him?"
Me: "what the hell? how am I supposed to find him.  And say what?  My godmother told me to call you?!"

Moms suggests just finding out about him.  She learned a new word, "internet".  I am so sure, stalker! I explain that it's not nice to spy and also impossible to do if you do not know the name of the store.  And that I am NOT doing it anyway.

Note that I do not really talk to my mom about anything.  She really has no idea what goes on in my world.  But manages to pour salt in my wounds with ferver.

Me: "I need a job, not a boyfriend"
Moms:  "What boyfriend? What job?!  You need  husband.  What, you gonna be alone forever?  You need husband, no job.  You  go work with him....."
My ears start to bleed. "I really don't want to talk about this right now."
Moms: "okay. okay...we're just talking."
 "So, my dress came in for Ry's wedding.  It's going to be big, because I had to get a bigger size for my boobs and I'll need to put straps on...."  She let's me babble for a few minutes.
Moms: " No worry, honey.  I fix it pretty for you.  You bring it -I fix it. Don't worry."

Man, she kills me.

Nia Vardalos Ain't Got Nothing On Me

I was telling my girlfriends the conversation I had with my mom yesterday and one literally peed her pants.  "Why aren't you doing stand-up?"  It never occurred to me.  I never thought I could be funny enough.  Truth is, I do have good delivery.  If you think my posts are funny - awesome.  But I am way more funny in person.  And I do not try to be.  Sometimes I am just talking and people are like "you're hilarious".  It always takes me a minute.  Oh yeah, some people are not funny.  I suppose I am amusing.  All in the delivery.  Which is why I am so grateful that I have people that enjoy my blog.  Thanks for reading.  Really.

I started to write a response to my lovely friend lovelyleo2's comment in my last post; but decided that some things should just be shared. Let's talk moms for a minute.

You know the mom in Everybody Loves Raymond?  Combine her with Edith Bunker and add a little Cinderella's Step Mother (though she birthed me).

Welcome to my world.  Luckily, I inherited my daddy's sense of humor and logic.  Whew.

I do not have a bad relationship with her, but there is a huge cultural gap, I do not really discuss anything in my life with her.  She still does not understand that I do not work at the front desk at a hotel (because of course I should be able to meet a man there). "No, mom...I have an office...I do not work at the front desk. I do not check people in."  I have told her this no less than 100 times. Clueless.

She has been on me to get married since I was a fetus.  I can't even deal with it.  Remember that scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, when she asks her mom why she has to go to Greek School?  Her mom says - so that you can write to your mother in law.  Yeah. that was said to me when I was 4. Seriously. Four.

My response was "Well you married an Italian. Why do I have to marry a Greek?"  Again...4.

I thought my dad was Italian because he ate so much pasta.
Precious.

I went to prom my sophomore year, with a very obviously gay guy mind you.  A girlfriend and I went with a couple of senior mo's.  It was totally fun by the way.  Anyway, my clueless mom, who had no idea of any sexual experimenting & make out sessions I had had with the Greek boys (because of course I could go out with them...what could happen?) is taking pictures of me...in a pink dress (gross)...before everyone else met up at our house. 

She gets close to me, all serious and says kinda under her breath "don't let him touch you." while making a "you know where" face.  That was the extend of her sex talk to me.

Then there was the Epilady incident.  I was probably 25 at the time.  Not living at home. Did any of you girls have one? It was this white oblong thingy and had a coil spring on one side.  It was for hair removal.  It hurt like a mother fucker.  I used it once and in the bathroom it sat.  Here it is:

We have a quad level, so you can see almost everything going on in the house, especially from the main level, where the kitchen, sorry, that the main kitchen is, because you know my dad had to build another one in the basement.  None of the stairways are enclosed. The stairs going to the upper bedrooms is right by the kitchen table.
Where I am sitting....with my two big brothers, father, sisters in law, sister and brother in law.  Maybe even a niece or nephew in the mix.  I am sitting next to my sister.
 
Mom is standing on the stairs with the Epilady in her hand. Says to my sister (let's call her Kathy)
Mom: "Kathy, should I sell this in the garage sale?"
Kathy: "What is it? i don't even know what that is."
Mom: "Uh...should I sell it?"
Me: "No one will want to buy that.  It's mine anyway.  Just throw it out"
Mom - horrified: "No it's not yours!  It's Kathy's! It can't be yours"
Me: "No, mom it's mine...what do you think that is?
She sheepishly starts to lower it towards her lady bits.

Kathy and I just burst!  And then I was like "That's for your legs!! Why on earth would you think you could sell that if it was that?!"

I look at my sister. "Crazy bitch tried to call you out on a vibrator.  In front of everybody.  And  tried to sell it.  And freaked out at the thought of me having one....because I am not married.  She's fucking insane."