The First Brush is the Sweetest

   If you lovelies don't already know, I am the proud owner of a new home (well, new to me anyhow)!  While I love my new place and am super excited and scared, and overwhelmed at having just purchased a new home, there are some definite issues that need to be addressed in my new home.  So, in the manner of Martha Stewart and Kevin Sharkey, I am going to keep you all updated on my (forever) continuing home "renovations".
   Upon settling, I went to the house and counted the door handles.  That may sound silly, but with a 2 and a half year old boy, the original non-locking lever handles would never work. Plus (like everything else in the house) they were that shiny gold/brass color (ick).  My brother and his fiancee came over last Saturday and helped install the new, round, aged bronze, locking door handles (there are still a few closet doors and the front and back patio doors to be done, but those are cosmetic and can wait until I have more money). 

   We also spent about 4 hours cleaning the place top to bottom.  When I got to the Master Bath and started cleaning the vanity cabinet under the sink I noticed a leak from the sink.  My brother, being the extremely handy and awesome person that he is, took the sink apart, fixed it and put it back together in about 15 minutes.
   Our stuff was delivered this past Thursday from MD.  I spent Thursday night getting everything put into the right rooms, putting bed together, and emptying boxes.  I repeated that process Friday night, as well.  This was all in preparation for the painting of the living room. Most little girls plan their weddings, I planned my house.  I pick out paint chips and read Better Homes and Gardens.  Each house I looked at in my hunt, would get a mental makeover as I walked through.  Needless to say I had my colors picked and ready as soon as the papers were signed.  Most of the house will get painted over time, however the living room was the color of dried blood and needed to be changed SWIFTLY!

My actual living room (previous owner's furniture)

 

 

 

 

   I purchased 3 gallons of tinted primer  ( figured I would buy the paint later), and armed myself with tape, rollers, brushes, and the like and got ready to paint on Saturday.  THEN I realized "If I tape it all off now and prime it I will need to paint soon too, or risk peeling off paint when I remove the tape."  The magic of this realization came at 12:15...15 min. AFTER the store closed where I buy my paint (a local Benjamin Moore retailer and also where I worked my first job, schlepping paint and cleaning toilets (glamorous!)).

   My friend had come over to help me paint and it ended up we spent most of the day taping and laying down masking paper.  So Sunday night after my son went to bed, I decided I would get started on a couple if the smaller walls so I wouldn't have so much to do today.  LOOONG story short, I double prime coated the whole living room last night and got to bed by 3.  I just called the Paint store and they have my paint ready for me to pick up at lunch...let's just hope it doesn't take another 7 hours tonight!  P.S. I REFUSE TO EVER PAINT AGAIN!~Lola
P.S.  Finished pix coming soon!

A little something to slit your wrists to

Following is a one page setting sketch that was assigned to me by my creative writing professor.  Just thought I would share my learnin' on here with y'all. Read it if you want to~Lola

                            She stands alone.  The salt heavy air blows her tangled, sea-sprayed hair across her face.  She doesn’t brush it away.  The pre-dawn light turns the dark heavy sky into a misty oyster shell of gray and purple swirling together.  The ocean’s colors mimicking the sky like an angry mina bird.  The ocean rises up as if to grab the sky and pull it down to keep it forever, yet the sky remains out of reach and unable to grasp the oceans waves reaching toward it.  At least that is what she imagines as she stands alone.  The empty beach stretches on either side of her as the waves pull at her toes, grasping hungrily for the tattered hem of her evening gown.

               Behind her, a trail of her bloody footprints leading from the cliffs she descended in the dark are filled with the discarded orchids and paste jewels that once adorned her hair and gown.  It is bitingly cold in the dawn and her skin has taken on a faint blue tinge from the hours she has spent standing on the desolate shore.  She can taste the salt in her throat and on her lips from the sea and the sky and her tears.  Her feet unconsciously dig deeper into the thick wet sand at the water’s edge.  The thick grey brown grains are flecked with black and gold.  Later in the day they will reflect the sun and make the entire beach glow, but now they stick heavily to her well shaped feet and ankles and weigh down the water and blood-stained pale peach silk gown.  The wind is tearing at her and the ocean pulls but she stands frozen.  The screaming inside her is only drowned out by the roaring of the tide crashing all around her.  She stands frozen on the edge of the world seeing nothing but the hours they were together, standing here in the place where they met.

It was hot then, mid-summer, only a few months earlier.  The itchy wool bathing costume was driving her out of her mind.   The heat of the sun beating directly down on her thick chestnut colored hair, causing little drips of sweat to snake down her neck and pool between her shoulder blades as she reclined lazily, eyes closed, in the canvas and teak beach chair.  Her friends were running down the glittering beach, their shouts of joy and laughter always at odds with the silence she preferred.  She dug her toes deeper into the hot sand searching for the coolness underneath.  Silently cursing her refusal to cut her hair into the current bob, she reached for her hat.  Her fingertips grazed the empty place next to her where she had place her hat hours before.  Startled she opened her eyes as the sun seemed to have vanished, as her eyes adjusted to the light she realized that the sun was still shining but had been eclipsed by a body.  As he handed her the errant hat, their fingers touched, and her quiet world expanded.  They swam together in the bracing sea that day, floating together, bodies buoyed by the salt yet drug down by those damn wool bathing costumes.

It is impossible for her to recall they had danced together only hours earlier, impossible to believe that he would never be there again.  Each freezing wave crashes over her bare bloody feet, numbing the breaks and bruises she couldn’t feel anyhow.  The screaming horses, cracking wood, and shouts of her world collapsing begin to roar in her head again.  There was nothing she could do as she held him in her lap, his body a mangled heap.  She just told him how much she loved him and stared into his dimming eyes, her tears washing rivulets of salt though the blood on his face.  There was nowhere for her now.  Nowhere but the edge of the empty world watching the sky and the ocean wage their endless battle to be together.

Peace out 2010, don't EVER come back!

   Over the past year I have: lost a job, gone through a custody battle, moved back in with my parents, moved to another state, finally found another job, battled with my attorney over getting the child support she “won” for me, battled with my attorney over her $27,000 bill, battled with Child Support Services, to get the money they were sending back to “D-Bag”, had my child diagnosed as having severe allergies (which usually turn into ear infections/bronchitis/or other illnesses that keep him out of daycare and me out of my new job),had to buy a new car (less than a year after getting the other one paid off), and am trying to buy a house with me and 2 other people on the loan.  Can I just say that I have never been so glad to be done with a year?  
   At the end of it though, I have a solid job, am back home in the state I love, my son is in a great daycare close to my job, we ALMOST have a house 15 minutes away from work, and I might even get child support soon.     
   Dear 2011, You may not include: fire, blizzards, floods, court cases of any kind, accidents, incidents, or catastrophes.  You are to be profitable, pleasant, and soft-spoken.  Because I said so~Lola

WORTH IT!

If I Had A Band

Have you ever said something ordinary and then thought “Hey!  That would be a great name for a band!”?  I have, all the time!  Therefore, periodically, I will have “If I had a Band” Day.  I am spinning this off Southern Belle Simple’s “La Fête D’Imagination” in which she creates a completely imaginary party, down to the napkins, for a fabulous day (most recently Vivian Leigh’s Birthday).  So I am going to create a completely imaginary band down to the guitar art.

Today’s band name was inspired by the recent cold weather snap and my roomies comment that it was an electric blanket night.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, from Island Pond, Vermont this is “ELECTRIC BLANKET NIGHT!”.  Onto the dive bar stage in a small New England town walks 3 middle aged men, obviously still grasping at youth.  Clad in an artfully tattered array of flannel and jeans that are way too tight for men of that age, these Chuck Taylor wearing gentlemen belt tunes with guttural raspy voices reminiscent of Nickleback.  They want to be edgy but you can tell they grew up on Neil Sedaka…not judging, just saying.  Their wives sit at the bar impatiently checking their watches, impatient to get back home to relieve the babysitter.  They glare at the drunken, middle age, lounge lizard dancing way too seductively all alone in front of the stage.   The drum kit has “EBN” with a lightning bolt through it on the bass.  And if you look closely you can see the desperate hope shinning through their eyes.  They tour through New England in their minivans working around PTA and soccer games, in a love hate relationship with the path their lives have taken…regretting that they are not 20 years younger and begrudging every back spasm and pre-arthritic ache that signals their impending age.

This is a photo of Queens of the Stone Age from Magnet Magazine
Add 10 Years and subtract 90% of the talent and you have "Electric Blanket Night"

HE KNOWS I EXIST!

               I have to blog about it…HE KNOWS I EXIST!!!!  So my roommate found this button that’s says “Mentally dating a celebrity who doesn’t know I exist”, which is excessively accurate.  I have a total fan girl crush on Michael Esper of Broadway’s American Idiot.  Like vivid dreams, and giggly blushiness, low grade internet stalker crush.  It is, in fact, a little sad.  So, in the spirit of fan girl crushes worldwide, I dressed my 2 year old son as “Will” his character from A.I.  And by dressed I mean authentic costume down to the handmade key necklace and leather bracelet.  I even had my roommate scour the internet for pictures of the cardinal and 1977 tattoo he wears in the show, and Sharpie’d them on his arm.  I sculpted a heart-shaped hand grenade and sprayed his hair blue and black.  I even got so OCD as to smear some guyliner on him.  Then, on with the skinny jeans and vintage tee (right sleeve rolled up of course) and the skater shoes.  We set up a tube TV on the ground in front of an aged and infirm (read-well loved) sofa (a la the set he stays on for almost the entire show), clipped a lollipop stick to look like a cigarette (which he chain smokes throughout the show) and then spent the next 45 minutes trying to convince the aforementioned 2 year old to pose for pictures.  He did an AWESOME job and there has never been a prouder Fan girl Mommy than I was of my little “Will”. 

               OF COURSE with all my obsessive stalker craziness I had to post and tag Espy (hell yeah I gave him a nickname) and A.I. (What the cool kids are calling it these days) all over the place…FB and Twitter exploded with the “Espertasticness” (hey look, I made a word) of it all J I figured if anybody actually looked at it they would be like that’s cool and/or annoying and move on….THEN (duh duh duuuuuuh) my roommate calls me this morning (while I am driving to work) and says “I am about to make your year…guess who just commented on your picture of Spencer.”  I screamed like (insert farm yard analogy here).  Word for word  “AHHHHHH! SO AMAZING!!!!!!” Michael James Esper.  I have smiled for 7 hours now , thankfully the hyperventilating has stopped.  So from my happy little self to whoever reads/sees this here is my little “Will”.

This is the one Espy commented on.

Completely "Will" in this pic.

Getting ink done.

HOW IS HE SO CUTE?

Mommy's heart shaped hand grenade

I went to New York...and let my Geek flag fly!

In my life I have developed a taste for many things.  I enjoy a trip to Saks Fifth Avenue, I love my Chanel sunglasses, I am a MAC addict (thanks for that Kate Spears, you are my original pusher), and pretty much anything sparkly will grab my attention like a squirrel scenting a nut.  But underneath the blonde sparkly girly exterior lies a secret (my friends will say it isn’t that well hidden, but it tends to surprise strangers) I am a geek, a nerd, a mouth breather, whatever your term for it…I am.  I love comics, sci-fi, video games…let's face it I am a pair of high waters away from starring in a Revenge of the Nerds movie…I even snort when I laugh really hard.  Therefore imagine my dismay when I missed the opportunity to buy tickets to this year’s Comic-Con in San Diego.  It would have been my first.  Stan Lee (Creator of Spiderman, Ironman, Hulk, etc.) was there as was James Marsters (Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Barnabas Greeley from Caprica…two words “Spank Bank”) and TONS of other Geek gods from all forms of media.  I sat and pouted on the beach in San Diego that weekend, so close yet so far.  Then my AMAZING roommate gave me an excuse to be in New York City during New York’s Comic Con this past weekend.  So I got online and stated stalking.  My schedule dictated that I could only go on Sunday morning so I had to wait until James and Stan’s signing/photo schedules were posted, which didn’t happen until about 2 weeks out from the Con.  When I FINALLY saw that they would be available during my time, I was so excited…until I saw the prices.  Not only was it $40 to get a 1 day pass, but a photo with James was $60 and Stan was $40.  They also charged separate prices to sign autographs.  I almost cried.  So I said “Oh well, maybe next year in San Diego”. 

It was the train ride that made me change my mind.  Riding into the city from New Jersey was someone on their way to the Con.  I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t wait for another Con, this was it, my chance to meet (and touch) some of my idols.  I asked him how to get to the Javitts center and decided to leave it up to fate.  If there were tickets available it was meant to be.  Needless to say, IT WAS.  I bought my day pass, and forayed into my first Comic-Con.  It was AMAZING!  There was so much to see and do.  While it was crowded everyone was well behaved and orderly.  The staff was very helpful and answered all this Con Virgin’s questions and even escorted me to the correct booth for the Stan and James picture sessions.  Everywhere you looked was something cooler than before.  I got my picture with “Black Beauty” the car from the new Green Hornet movie. 

I met a kid dressed as Tony Stark (Ironman) with a costume that would make any electrical engineer proud. 

I even met Mr. McFeely from my childhood favorite show Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood.

SPEEDY DELIVERY

I only got to spend a few hours in mouth breather heaven, but it was enough to hook me.  Even though I went alone I was still part of a family.  Strangers helped me take pictures, and waiting on line was fun because everyone talks to everyone.  It is a HUGE shared experience and later that night when I passed someone in Times Square I had waited on line with, we waved and smiled at each other because we had been there.  Next time I will know to go to picture sessions first and leave someone waiting in the autograph line.  I will know to buy tickets online because they cost more at the door, I will know to bring water, and I will know to wear something that covers my arms because it is easier than cropping them out of pictures.  But it was worth every hour in the car and every dollar I didn’t really have, I will ALWAYS remember my first Comic-Con.  BAZINGA!-Lola (the Geek)



The Author and James Marsters




The Author and Stan Lee



A Demolition De-virginification

   Alright ladies and gentlemen, IT has finally happened!  I lost my Demolition Derby virginity!  Kay, so my roommate and I took my son to the county fair this past week.  Oh my Jesus, where to start? 

   We shall start with the cake competition.  My roommate entered the amateur cake decorating competition.Needless to say she rocked it out!  Featuring butter cream covered off-set dummy cakes accented by hand cut black fondant zebra stripes(I did those!) displayed on a zebra print cake board, and topped with a black and white beaded topper.  Her cake took first place in her division and she won a whopping $10.  We are going to ignore the fact that she didn't take best-in-show and all the small town politics involved in County Fair food judging competitions, and focus on the fact that the other decorated cakes looked like someone took a Wal-Mart cake dropped it on the floor and scrapped it all back together and the fact that at least she beat them.

  Now we move on to the fabulousness of a warm summer night, the smells of pizza, and funnel cake, the flashing lights, and ringing bells of a small town fair.  I love the candy colored flashing lights, the oddly shaped little people running the booths, the rotten toothed little kids running around on leashes with Gus-Gus (the fluffy mouse from Cinderella) shirts on and bottles of Coke and Mountain Dew in their sticky paws, and the horrific disease ridden "prizes" that float above your head raining down lice and bedbugs on the heads of unsuspecting passers-by.  I love people watching though, all those little gag-inducing high school sweethearts are enough to make me want to stab myself in the face!  But the Funnel cake ROCKS!   

  Saving the best for last, the Demolition Derby!  It is very odd to me that my FAVORITE part of the evening was the dirty, loud, event that involved cars smashing into each other.  But just the sheer masculinity of it appealed to the Bad Boy Magnet in me.  The loud growling engines, the relentless slamming into other cars until the just can't go anymore, one car got flipped over on it's side, and at the end someone got $50.  Well maybe it isn't such a mystery to me why I like it anymore ;) -Lola