Category Archives: couldn't think of a category for this

I’m back!

Phew! So…

I’m back, jack.

Wanted you to know. Why? Well, frig, if you didn’t post for a few days I’d want to know. And if kindergarten taught me anything, it’s “do unto others…” blah blah.

I have a few things to share and am just trying to process it all so that I don’t SPEW it all over your screen, which, truth be told, every time you visit me over here is a distinct possibility.

OK, check you later.

Processing, processing…

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Writer’s block.

It’s like stuttering. The ideas are there. The intention is there. But the words, the words. They. Won’t. Come. Out.


My well has run dry, and I have another script due like, last week.


Shit me.


Help! What do you do when this happens? (and yes, I’ve tried drinking…)


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Like steak…

I’ve been marinating a while.

I know.

But I’ll be ready soon.

And juicy.



"Rob, I swear. Take that picture and I'm gonna...."


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What about you?

Ok, Saturday once again and here I am, posting.


It’s Halloween, which may or may not matter to you, but I think ‘ween is bitchin. Why? Because it always reminds me of being a kid, which is a good thing. Although I get it’s not a good thing for everyone, especially if the things that plagued your childhood included, but were not limited to:

-Childhood acne
-A lack of toys, VHS tapes or a sibling to push around
-Spandex bicycle shorts
-Wetting the bed (you know who you are...)
-Being forced to eat stinky cheese, egg or combo stinky cheese/egg sandwiches at lunch, when all you really wanted was bologna, like all the other kids who also got chips in their lunchbox, but you didn’t because your parents gave you uncool shit, like bananas or apples or plain crackers with no salty bits on the top, because they probably hated you. That’s why.

Anyway, I still love Halloween.

Right now there are kids running up and down my street, totally pumped that they’ll be jacked on sugar tonight. I’m not looking forward to that like, at all. Why? Because most kids are annoying all on their own without having to be high on white, refined sugar, which is sort of like crack, but legal.. and tastes better. Not that I’ve tried crack. Or that I would. But if you have, I won’t judge you. Have you? You can tell me. I won’t tell. I promise.

So I’m typing here and I’m wondering, what do you do when you blog? Are you:

-At a desk
-At the kitchen table (I am, mostly)
-Watching TV
-Talking on the phone
-Listening to music
-Smoking (all things included, don’t hold back. You can tell me.)
-At a coffee shop
-On a laptop
-At an old desktop-you-really-need-to-jump-on-the-Mac-train-already-seriously-what-are-you-waiting-for


What do wear, look like, eat, smoke, drink, think, sit on when you blog?

Me. The Mac. Penelope the cat. She's likes getting involved.

Me. The Mac. Penelope. (yes, she really does this when I blog.)


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Moms are awesome, even when they Facebook stalk you.

So, my mom has gone all “2.0” on me.

Check this-

A couple of years back she comes to me and says, “I want an email address”. Now, I should tell you that my mom has an accent. She’s Portuguese. Hearing the words, “I want an email address” in that accent is a riot, plus all sorts of cute. Anyway.

My sister hooked it up. She got the email address and then we didn’t hear anything about it for a while. I think she sent us like one email (which we typed for her and sent to ourselves) and that was it. But then something happened..

All of her friends’ kids were emailing them.

Holy shit.

So we went through the whole process of setting up another email account (because it expires or blows up or whatever if you don’t use it for a few months) and explained, once again, how to use it.

And then we got this:

“why you not emailing me. love you  mom”

And that was only the beginning.

Facebook was next.

So we set up her account because “you two always leave me out of everything” and within one week she Facebook friended 50% of my  friend list. I guess in one way I thought, ‘cool, my mom’s down with the tech’ but then we got one of these sent to our inbox:

for Easter dinner on Sunday, please vote for two of these:

-roast beef

We voted, to make her happy and because we genuinely thought this was a good system. It was all in vain though. She made everything on the list anyway.

But I guess her determination to be on the ball when it comes to technology shouldn’t surprise me. She was the first person I knew to have a cell phone, which meant that I had to have one too. I was in the eighth grade. Yes, my mom is all sorts of cool.

Although that doesn’t come without its consequences.

Don’t even get me started on the number of text messages I now receive asking me why I never call her/love her/text her. Boof, boof! Getting the guilt punches thrown in all directions these days, at broadband speed.

Now that she surfs the Net, my mom’s searches include, but are not limited to: downloading music, videos I’ve made, Facebook stalking and Googling her daughters (she wants to know that we’re relevant to others, too.)

Let me end off by saying that I didn’t get my first email address until I was 19-years old and in university. I remember, in 1998, the Oprah show flashing their new website address and thinking to myself, ‘phef, that’ll never take off’.


So,  your parents down with the 2.0?

my desk at work (I really don't have an intersting picture for this one)

my desk at work (I really don't have an intersting picture for this one)


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Marriage is all about getting the stuff off your chest that just keeps you up at night.

The following conversation is real. I wouldn’t lie about something this ridiculous.

So we had the pleasure of getting all of these free channels to preview when we signed up with a new cable company. They’re always so awesome in the beginning. Kind of like how your new boss is nice to you for the first month before turning into the kind of boss that makes you want to slit your wrists in the bathroom, because everything you do is wrong and you totally get in shit for dumb things like speaking out of turn at a meeting, leaving your coffee mug in the communal kitchen sink or missing deadlines that you didn’t even know existed.

Anyways. This post isn’t about bosses or cable companies. It’s about putting yourself in other people’s shoes, and then acting accordingly.

Let me break this down for you with a story..

Before the honeymoon period with our cable company was over and we had all of our new, “free” channels ripped away from us, we decided to watch ALL OF THEM. I’m such a sucker for free shit.

One night we came across this Mexican TV channel, which I thought was pretty interesting because before this I had no idea it even existed. Rob and I previewed this channel and actually really started to get into it. The Y&R has nothing on these Latin American soaps… they show boobs. And then for no particular reason, it occurred to us:

If we had a Mexican cleaning lady, would we subscribe to Mexican TV?

On one hand, getting the Mexican TV channel would mean admitting that you’re a sucker. You know she’s totally going to be watching TV when SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING. On the other hand, NOT getting the Mexican TV channel says that you’re a tyrant. Are you made of stone? Even you don’t just work all day. Are you reading this blog on your lunch hour right now? Didn’t think so.

Here’s a fact: It doesn’t take six hours to clean a 1000-square foot apartment. Maybe you could stretch it out for three, but not six. That said, there are two things that will happen once your cleaning lady is done dusting and buffing your crap-

1. She will riffle through your stuff, including (but not limited to) your medicine cabinet, under your mattress, in your closet and most definitely through the pile of papers and statements you just leave lying around (idiot).

2. She will watch TV.

If you’re lucky, she’ll choose number two. I, for one, would prefer that she did and I’m willing to do anything to make sure she takes that option over looking through my bank statements only to realize she makes more money than I do.

And with that, Rob and I decided that we WOULD subscribe to the Mexican TV channel if we had a Mexican cleaning lady. We’d probably even ask her what channel her novella was on, who was sleeping with whom and who’s waking up from a coma this week, etc. Just for the record we’d do the same for a Greek, Italian, Polish or Filipino cleaning lady, too. Any cleaning lady, for that matter. Ours happens to be Portuguese.

In the end, the take home message is, ‘Do Unto Others As You Would Want Them To Do Unto YOU’.

(And for God’s sake, burn your bank statements.)

Actual footage of our cleaning supply closet. Dramatic, isn't it?

Actual footage of our cleaning supply closet. Dramatic, isn't it?

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Filed under couldn't think of a category for this, stuff on my mind

(p.s.  super loving this fucking feature.)


Filed under couldn't think of a category for this