The weather here, well, you know those flowers that were blooming? Um, they were buried under a light snow this morning, then the sun came out, and now?
It's raining ice.
Didn't this happen to the dinosaurs?!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I Surrender
Dear Alien Inside My Head AND My Chest:
You win. You have filled every tiny cavity in my sinus' until I sounded like a parody of a person with a cold. You have moved your alien family down into my chest, and even the tiny hairs on the inside of my ears hurt.
My dying wish is to halt global warming by converting the snot I am producing at an alarming rate into alternative energy.
Green energy, if you will.
Your captive, AnnieMcQ
cc: my internet friends
ps: I did manage to watch Autism: The Musical while the alien was sitting on my chest, and it would have made me cry, but I was afraid to produce any more mucus. If it's showing on HBO again, please, please tivo it. It's just brilliant.
You win. You have filled every tiny cavity in my sinus' until I sounded like a parody of a person with a cold. You have moved your alien family down into my chest, and even the tiny hairs on the inside of my ears hurt.
My dying wish is to halt global warming by converting the snot I am producing at an alarming rate into alternative energy.
Green energy, if you will.
Your captive, AnnieMcQ
cc: my internet friends
ps: I did manage to watch Autism: The Musical while the alien was sitting on my chest, and it would have made me cry, but I was afraid to produce any more mucus. If it's showing on HBO again, please, please tivo it. It's just brilliant.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
To the Alien Inside My Head:
Dear Alien,
I would like to welcome you to your spacious new home: my sinus cavity! Or should I say YOUR sinus cavity! It must have been a perfect fit for you, because the ease and swiftness with which you moved in is astonishing! Clearly, it suits you. Or should I say, not clearly, but, um, greenly? I would like to post a few "rules of the house", if you don't mind. I find that it helps to say these things up front, so that we can all live in harmony.
1. I'm glad you are so comfortable in your new digs, but could you please stop itching my eyes and burning my throat? It's keeping me awake at night, and I need my beauty sleep. I am looking every minute of my age, I don't need you adding any of your puffiness, thank you very much.
2. Your lease states clearly that you are NOT ALLOWED downstairs, so don't even think of moving into my chest.
3. I am rather enjoying my new voice. It's Brenda Vaccarro meets Harvey Fierstien meets Foghorn Leghorn meets Urkle.
Unique. Classy. Just like me!
4. If you could keep from exploding my head while you are in residence it would be greatly appreciated.
5. I am having a bit of difficulty hearing. I know, I know, more than normal? Ha ha ha. You are such a funny alien. Seriously, though. Get out of my ears.
6. If you are from the planet allergy, rather than the planet headcold, as I suspect, would you mind not adding the body aches? Theenx.
7. This is not a month to month lease, so don't unpack yet. You are not going to be staying long, if I have any say in the matter. Which, I am aware, I don't. I will not be taking you with me on spring break this weekend. So any visits to Southern California will need to be done from the confines of someone else's head.
Thank you for your consideration! Enjoy your stay, you miserable alien A#@hole!
Sincerely, Anniemcq
I would like to welcome you to your spacious new home: my sinus cavity! Or should I say YOUR sinus cavity! It must have been a perfect fit for you, because the ease and swiftness with which you moved in is astonishing! Clearly, it suits you. Or should I say, not clearly, but, um, greenly? I would like to post a few "rules of the house", if you don't mind. I find that it helps to say these things up front, so that we can all live in harmony.
1. I'm glad you are so comfortable in your new digs, but could you please stop itching my eyes and burning my throat? It's keeping me awake at night, and I need my beauty sleep. I am looking every minute of my age, I don't need you adding any of your puffiness, thank you very much.
2. Your lease states clearly that you are NOT ALLOWED downstairs, so don't even think of moving into my chest.
3. I am rather enjoying my new voice. It's Brenda Vaccarro meets Harvey Fierstien meets Foghorn Leghorn meets Urkle.
Unique. Classy. Just like me!
4. If you could keep from exploding my head while you are in residence it would be greatly appreciated.
5. I am having a bit of difficulty hearing. I know, I know, more than normal? Ha ha ha. You are such a funny alien. Seriously, though. Get out of my ears.
6. If you are from the planet allergy, rather than the planet headcold, as I suspect, would you mind not adding the body aches? Theenx.
7. This is not a month to month lease, so don't unpack yet. You are not going to be staying long, if I have any say in the matter. Which, I am aware, I don't. I will not be taking you with me on spring break this weekend. So any visits to Southern California will need to be done from the confines of someone else's head.
Thank you for your consideration! Enjoy your stay, you miserable alien A#@hole!
Sincerely, Anniemcq
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Once upon a time...
...I was an idiotic twenty-something. Hedonistic, dramatic, and looking at pictures of myself then, cute as a button, although I truly didn't think so at the time. I wanted to be an artist, an ACTOR, not an actress (too diminutive for what I wanted for myself and my life), and sometimes, judging from the dreams I keep having, I think it might happen yet. But I am taking a break, to roll around in this life called parenting, to soak it up like a sponge, and to watch this amazing person I am raising catch his own light.
Yeah, but anyway, back to me.
So a loooooong time ago, I did the stuff that you do when you're in your early twenties: I drank too much and made out with people whose names I mostly don't remember.
Except for this one guy. Because he has come back to haunt me as that one-night make out session I can't forget. Not because his kisses were so incredible, I honestly don't remember them. I do remember that he was so much taller than I was that I had a terrible kink in my neck the next day, even though I was a lot younger and more pliable than I am now. (Dear God, thank you for not letting it go any further than one night of beer-induced spit swapping. I would be completely malformed by now.)
I also remember that he was riding his bike through Montana, where I happened to be doing summerstock, and he happened to have lots of friends. And he was completely Nordic, and he had the blondest hair I'd ever seen. But mostly the reason I remember him is because of his voice. It was very unusual.
I'm sure he doesn't remember me, but thanks to Nick Jr., I remember him. Every day at 2:00 and 2:30 I am reminded that I used to be, well, sort of slutty. In a Lutheran sort of way.
That's right. I made out with Patrick the Starfish.
Let this be a cautionary tale to those of you still in your twenties.
Yeah, but anyway, back to me.
So a loooooong time ago, I did the stuff that you do when you're in your early twenties: I drank too much and made out with people whose names I mostly don't remember.
Except for this one guy. Because he has come back to haunt me as that one-night make out session I can't forget. Not because his kisses were so incredible, I honestly don't remember them. I do remember that he was so much taller than I was that I had a terrible kink in my neck the next day, even though I was a lot younger and more pliable than I am now. (Dear God, thank you for not letting it go any further than one night of beer-induced spit swapping. I would be completely malformed by now.)
I also remember that he was riding his bike through Montana, where I happened to be doing summerstock, and he happened to have lots of friends. And he was completely Nordic, and he had the blondest hair I'd ever seen. But mostly the reason I remember him is because of his voice. It was very unusual.
I'm sure he doesn't remember me, but thanks to Nick Jr., I remember him. Every day at 2:00 and 2:30 I am reminded that I used to be, well, sort of slutty. In a Lutheran sort of way.
That's right. I made out with Patrick the Starfish.
Let this be a cautionary tale to those of you still in your twenties.
Falling in love again
I have been doing my best to be objective. I really have. I haven't gone to first base, I haven't even said we were thinking about going steady. But my resolve is crumbling, and I'm thinking of climbing into the back seat, one more time.
I read the transcript of Barack's speech, having missed it on television, and not wanting to be swayed by his personality, I just wanted time to read and digest his words. First and foremost, I was wowed by the fact that he wrote it himself. Can you imagine what a treat it would be if our current leader would be allowed off the leash to write a speech for himself?
On the other hand.
Eight. Long. Years. It would be hysterically funny if we weren't five years into this f*&#ing war, if people weren't losing their homes in record numbers, if the earth weren't threatening to melt and swallow us all whole.
I was also amazed by Barack's embracing our ambiguous human natures, without being at all wishy-washy. But more than anything, I am amazed by what I'm feeling in response to his words: Hope.
The Clinton's used to have the market cornered on Hope, but as much as I admire Hillary, and believe in her ability to lead, and as much as I LOVED Bill (but not in that way), I think a Hillary candidacy would be too divisive.
It's strange, isn't it? This feeling that every four years we fall in love, get our hearts broken, swear we'll never fall for this again, only to swoon and sway once the sweet talk eventually thaws our hearts.
But honestly, I ask you: How can you watch this without falling, truly, madly deeply? He's given me a promise, and I believe him. And he believes in me. He said so himself.
So I guess it's official. I am going steady with Barack Obama.
I read the transcript of Barack's speech, having missed it on television, and not wanting to be swayed by his personality, I just wanted time to read and digest his words. First and foremost, I was wowed by the fact that he wrote it himself. Can you imagine what a treat it would be if our current leader would be allowed off the leash to write a speech for himself?
On the other hand.
Eight. Long. Years. It would be hysterically funny if we weren't five years into this f*&#ing war, if people weren't losing their homes in record numbers, if the earth weren't threatening to melt and swallow us all whole.
I was also amazed by Barack's embracing our ambiguous human natures, without being at all wishy-washy. But more than anything, I am amazed by what I'm feeling in response to his words: Hope.
The Clinton's used to have the market cornered on Hope, but as much as I admire Hillary, and believe in her ability to lead, and as much as I LOVED Bill (but not in that way), I think a Hillary candidacy would be too divisive.
It's strange, isn't it? This feeling that every four years we fall in love, get our hearts broken, swear we'll never fall for this again, only to swoon and sway once the sweet talk eventually thaws our hearts.
But honestly, I ask you: How can you watch this without falling, truly, madly deeply? He's given me a promise, and I believe him. And he believes in me. He said so himself.
So I guess it's official. I am going steady with Barack Obama.
Monday, March 17, 2008
What is AnnieMcQ Up To?
About 5'3", and no good.
If you're really wondering what I'm spending my spare time working on (instead of keeping my house fastidiously tidy* and my son full to the brim with edutainment**) here is a clue:
It really is a walk down memory lane, going through all the receipts and credit card bills.
"Remember that one trip to the ER?"
"Insurance didn't really cover too much of that, did they?"
"Good times. Good times".
The thing is, we have someone who does our taxes.
And yet.
And yet.
It's still a pain in the ass.
*It could happen. If I were hypnotized and drugged.
**Hey. I helped him build a leprechaun trap, didn't I? An afternoon in front of the tv won't kill him.
If you're really wondering what I'm spending my spare time working on (instead of keeping my house fastidiously tidy* and my son full to the brim with edutainment**) here is a clue:
It really is a walk down memory lane, going through all the receipts and credit card bills.
"Remember that one trip to the ER?"
"Insurance didn't really cover too much of that, did they?"
"Good times. Good times".
The thing is, we have someone who does our taxes.
And yet.
And yet.
It's still a pain in the ass.
*It could happen. If I were hypnotized and drugged.
**Hey. I helped him build a leprechaun trap, didn't I? An afternoon in front of the tv won't kill him.
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