Gram and Gramps

I took Murphy and Miyo on the seven hour car ride up to my parents' place over Labor Day weekend. They have really grown up a lot in the three years I was away from Minneapolis...Miyo is so bossy! And she calls my mom "Gram" and my dad "Gramps" which makes me die I love it so much. Nobody taught her that. It was very hilarious how she would say to me: "we need to talk." and then motion for me to join her on my parents' front porch. Then she'd say, "have a seat." and then motion for me to sit down. But then she didn't say anything. When it was snuggle in bed time, we'd be chatting about my mom's garden and if we got away from the conversation she'd say, "yah...let's get back to the vegetables."

My dad got a new boat! (New to him, actually it's quite old.) But it has a steering wheel! No more steering from the back of the boat. Look how fancy and rich we are(n't) now:

Miyo loves to go "pickin' groceries" in Gram's garden. (I had to force her to actually eat that carrot, but through her tears I'm pretty sure she told me she liked it.)

Is six to young to start using a knife for cutting onions? Well, I didn't want to do it! They make my eyes water! Hilariously, she was using the blade upside down at one point and had her finger pressed down on the sharp part to press down on the onion. Good thing the knife was so dull, and don't tell her mother. 

Later we baked some cookies and somehow this happened. I blame Miyo.

And of course, there were plenty of cooking shows, where Gram and Miyo almost mastered the art of French Toast making:




I have zero pictures of Murphy. What a terrible, terrible aunt. 

Headed to New Orleans

...and it just isn't the same without ol' Uncle Lionel...

Watch him school me in the art of "dancing together". I think he prefers to "dance alone"?

Maybe we'll have better luck this time trying to find his gravesite?

What a HAG

You know how sometimes you hold a door open for somebody and they don't thank you and you're like, WHATEVER?

Well:

The other day I went to the post office and as I was walking in, a very nice lady was walking out. I could tell she was nice because she made eye contact with me and she smiled. I held her gaze and smiled back. She held the door and waited for me to enter before she exited. I sort of gave her an extended smile/nod and went in.

After she walked out I could hear her say"YOU'RE WELCOME!" in the rudest, meanest tone ever. Did I do something wrong?

Was I supposed to smile, nod, make long long eye contact AND say 'thank you'?

How am I supposed to know all the crazy people's rules?

Signed,
Failing at Life

It's Gonna Take a Whole Lotta Whiskey...

Many years ago (when Laura came home and Mary was blind) my friends and I went to a NOFX concert at First Avenue in Minneapolis. We parked in the Target Center parking ramp (as lazy fans are wont to do). Well: the Target Center parking ramp stairwells were pretty gross. In those days, everybody knew that.

I forgot for a second and used the handrail to assist in pulling myself up the stairs. My friend Mitch saw me and gave me a nice preachy lecture about how you should never, ever touch anything in those stairwells because all the local bums come in there and pee all over the place. In a fit of I-don't-know-what because I'm a total germphobe, I looked ol' Mitch right in the eyeballs and, without losing eye contact, licked a good three foot section of handrail. 

Later, I poured about a half bottle of whiskey onto my tongue (I suppose a few drops also spilled down my throat), hoping it would wash away the herpes, HIV, chlamydia and pregnancy I was sure to contract.

Why am I thinking of this, just now, 15 years later?

OH, I DON'T KNOW:

Better not watch Wrecking Ball, her latest video. It'll make you hate yourself.

 Hey, Miley: quit licking stuff, Dummy. There's not enough whiskey in the world to wash out my eyeballs.

Clothes Line Bandit

My landlord charges $1.25 to wash and $1.25 to dry. Highway robbery! Also we have no clothesline here. But I like my clothes better if they've hung outside to dry. Duh. So what's a girl to do?

I snuck into and clandestinely hung my clothes in a random neighbor's yard. They never noticed, I don't think (two loads, underwear and all!), and so I dubbed myself the #clotheslinebandit and now I've taken to going to friends' houses whom I know to have clotheslines and I like to leave them a little surprise for their Saturday:

Do you live in Minneapolis? Do you have a clothesline? Do you dare to leave your backyard unattended? You could be NEXT.

Sunday Favorites: The Steam Room

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. This story originally appeared on July 2, 2012. 

When my sisters and I were traveling in Austria, we stayed at a fabulous hotel in the mountains which boasted a spa that included several kinds of Turkish steam baths. As prudish Americans we were given pause at the "NO BATHING SUITS" sign as we entered the spa. We got seriously confused. What the?! Why? OH!! But you can wear a towel!...OK...we can just wear our towels. Phew! We started in the eucalyptus room and moved to the lemon room, never opening up our modesty cloaks towels. After that we kind of separated and started trying new rooms on our own. We were pretty much the only people in there, and when I ended up alone in a sauna, I couldn't help the urge to try something new *wink*. I stationed myself on an upper bench and opened up my towel. How dangerous! How luxurious! How exciting! The decadence was short lived, since not three seconds later I heard the door open. I quickly shut my towel. In walked a completely naked European man who lay down (face up) across the room from me on a lower bench.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up and leave, because I had just arrived, but I was seriously uncomfortable. I was terrified that I was going to 'look'. I lay there, trying to decide what would be a rational amount of time to decide to leave a sauna after you enter. I gave it five minutes.

When I got up, I sat up too quickly and BANGED! my head on the ceiling. OW! How embarrassing! I made eye contact with the man. Then-I-looked-at-his-thing-and-then-I-panicked-and-so-I-looked-back-at-his-face-but-got-nervous-and-then-looked-back-at-his-thing-and-then-back-at-his-face.

And then I got the heck out of there.

Yah right, dudes. No bathing suits allowed.

Too Lazy Saturday Travel Photo

Thailand

"Everyone Can Go to Heck"

This is the best work training video. Ever.






*Thanks Monte. 

Shashage Links

I scoured the entire Internet again and here's my favorite stuff from this week:

• A list of words in other languages that have no translation to English. 
• An Indian exchange student's list of the things he found most surprising about America. 
• These pajamas are so dreamy, but seriously who sleeps in "pajamas" anyway? Especially ones that cost $80 (marked down from $95)?
• Taxidermy for those who love bicycles. (And animals). 
• Way to go, Kmart! I love this commercial.
• Minneapolis neighborhoods hate the Pedal Pubs. So news of this accident was sort of a nice 'Ha Ha'.
• You know I love -isms. My friend Sarah writes down stuff her daughter Kira says in the car. Cracks me right up.
• My favorite Summer Grimes dating story, ever. 

A favorite scene from my favorite show:

Measuring Up

So it's not like I'm obsessed about it, but I turned 36 this year. I was born in 1977. My niece Miyo has taken to calling me "Grandma" and "old lady" and when I protested, my mom pointed out that technically, I could be a Grandma. 

I always thought that at 36 I'd be all grown up. Except I frequently eat dinner over the kitchen sink and fall asleep in my clothes. My bedroom looks like the bedroom of a 16-year-old boy and I once found a chicken wing in my bed.

Today, I was feeling very curious about which celebrities are the same age as I am and how I stack up when making unfair comparisons to their lives. Here's what a simple Google search revealed:

Shakira, Singer. Born February 2, 1977. Married to that hot soccer player above and just had her first baby. Not a natural blonde, but it looks better on her than me. Fabulous poet-lyricist-singer. Amazing at belly dancing. Her hips do not lie.

Rob McElhenney, writer It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Rob was born April 14, 1977. He is married (to Kaitlin Olson who plays Dee on Sunny) and has a baby. He makes his living as a writer. Looks good, even when fat. Gets to work with Danny DeVito.

James Van Der Beek, aka Dawson, Dawson's Creek. James was born on March 8, 1977. He is married with two kids. He makes his living as an actor. He enjoys watching football and baseball.

Maggie Gyllenhaal, actor. She was born on November 16, 1977. Married to Peter Sarsgaard, two kids. Gorgeous. Has gotten paid to kiss The Dude. Nurses her children in public. (Google it.)

Orlando Bloom, actor. Born January 13, 1977. Likes to make millions by signing on to epic trilogies i.e. Pirates of the Caribbean and Lord of the Rings. Married to Victoria's Secret model Miranda Kerr. They have a baby. 

Robin Thicke, that guy Miley Cyrus twerked up on. Born March 10, 1977. Married. Baby. 

• Sarah Michelle Gellar, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. April 14, 1977. Married to Freddie Prinze Jr. Two kids.
• Jessica Chastain, Zero Dark Thirty, The Help. March 24, 1977. 2013 Oscar nominee. In a long term relationship. Named "Sexiest Actress Alive" by Glamour magazine.
• Liv Tyler, actor. July 1, 1977. Very famous dad. Has a son called Milo.
• Zachary Quinto, actor. June 2, 1977. Single. Hot. Gay. The new Spock.  
• Colin Hanks, actor. Son of Tom Hanks. November 24, 1977. Married. Two kids.
• Kerry Washington, actor. January 31, 1977. Married to a San Francisco 49'er.

The list goes on and on. Need I even mention Saved by the Bell's Dustin Diamond, aka Screech?

So far, the only ones I seem to be winning over are Brittany Murphy who is dead, and Edward Furlong who I thought was dead, but was arrested as recently as January 2013 for beating his wife. (However he does have a baby.) 

---

Meanwhile I get angry when my greasy hair can't make it one more day without a shampooing and I get a real sense of accomplishment when I finish a full season of some TV show all in one day.


SO: Which celebrities are from your birth year, and how do you measure up?

Sunday Favorites: Kim Jong Hal?

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. This story originally appeared on April 4, 2013 and I know it might be a little too soon for an "Archive" post, but it's just too good. If I do say so myself. 

Remember when I noticed a disturbing resemblance between my dad and a certain female British pop star?

Well, today I noticed a disturbing resemblance between my dad and a certain unpopular North Korean world figure.

Yikes.

Too Lazy Saturday Travel Photo

New Orleans

Hal-isms, Vol. 42

"Kady. Why do you so selfishly only think of yourself?"

"You've always been my favorite. You were my favorite when KIM was born." (Kim is ten years older than me.)

"Oh sure, they'll spend it on whiskey and I'll sit in my crappy diapers."

"Oh my Gosh! It's past my bedtime: Ten-to-Nine."

Summer-isms, Vol. 58

"Should we lose a collective 80 pounds and try to get a sitcom deal or what?"

"It's not a stain. Yet."

"I know your body very well. Because I've studied it."

"Ex-husband gas station snack. Google THAT."

"I DID cook you an eel. I'm sorry I didn't get all the bones out."

Sunday Favorites: The Korean Elementary School

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. This story originally appeared on June 4, 2010 when Summer and I visited a Korean Elementary School:

Our friend Shawn teaches English in the school system here, and we got to visit his classes today!  It was pretty fun, although I was disappointed to find out that I wasn't able to teach any kids to speak fluent English in just one day.  In fact, we were really only there to answer questions for about ten minutes at the end of each class period.  It was fun.  The questions depended on the level of English of the student and varied from:

"Do you wear your shoes inside the house?"

and

"Do you like kimchi?"

to:

"How did you find the flight to Korea?"

and

"What do you do to cope with jet lag?"

Of course, "Are you rich?", "Are you married?", "How much money do you make?" were asked.  It was very adorable.  When I told the class that I had 5 brothers and sisters, there was a collective GASP! followed by hands over mouths.  I also told them Americans eat hamburgers and french fries all the time.  ha!  Spreading the stereotype.  You have to say what they know, I think.  And that's why when asked who my favorite American Music Artist was, I replied, "Lady Gaga". 

Cute little signs leading up the stairs at the school:

Lunchtime:

The students go to school on Saturday, and also most have nightschool at an Academy.  They are in school until midnight or even later, and work on homework after that.  It's a pretty brutal schedule, and my English-teaching friends here don't really know how effective it is.  Kids just don't have the attention span for it.  They test well in subjects like Math and Science, and do very well at memorization.  I think it's ridiculous.  Poor kids!

But so cute and polite.  They all take off their little shoes and change into tiny slipper-style shoes for class.

Too Lazy Saturday Travel Photo

The Coolest Guy on the Planet

Who's the coolest guy on the planet? No contest. It's my Uncle Aaron. 

aka Hal's brother.  

aka Ross' dad. 

So his cholo fell apart? So what? Duct tape.

Fancy Lady Business Trip, Vol. 2

I've been in Green Bay, Wisconsin for the last week on a business trip. This week, I have:

• Turned off the computer of the person I was training with my knee. While I was training them.
• Left my hotel room key in the door overnight.
• Left my car windows cracked at the way wrong end of the parking lot, only to wake up with a start at 5am to a torrential downpour.
• Walked around a silent office with one squeaky shoe. *Squeak...squeak...squeak...
• Dripped burger grease all over the front of my dress at lunch. Had to wash it with Dawn dish soap and spend the rest of the afternoon with a huge wet spot in my crotch.
• Spent every evening holed up in my hotel room because I haven't had a television for three years and there's all kinds of channels up in here.

NOT TO MENTION I have been late every day because the darn Golden Girls is playing back-to-back in the mornings.

There has been a little time for some R-and-R, fortunately. I was able to visit the historic Lambeau Field and get myself some Packer-esque souvenirs (and supplies for the PreSeason game I'll be going to -- by myself -- on Friday):

Oh yes I'll be wearing that hat to the game.

The Big Storm

We had a really big storm in Minneapolis back in June. Hundreds of trees were uprooted by strong winds. They just tipped over. FEMA even declared it a disaster area. Fortunately for me, neither my apartment nor my house suffered any damage. However, many of my neighbors, some just the next block over had trees fall onto their houses. My across-the-street neighbor Laurissa and I went on a little tour of the surrounding blocks and took a few photos:

 

The sign says "CAR FOR SALE. FREE FIREWOOD."

This poor guy had two trees land on his house.

 

Sunday Favorites: Kady Dangerously

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. This story originally appeared on February 20, 2011 when I was living in Costa Rica:

So today I made plans to make brunch for George, a dude who has had Nicole and I for dinner no less than three times without a returned favor.  Since Nicole had other arrangements, my plan was to ride mybici-moto over to Tamarindo and on the way stop at the vegetable market in Villa Real for some supplies.  Well the stupid thing hasn't been running properly and it killed on me a few meters from my place.  So I decided that maybe I flooded it.  And then my new friend Dustin suggested taking out the spark plug and making sure it was clean and dry and then trying again but I didn't have that tool.  And then the gate guard dude told me in Spanish something I didn't quite get and then my friend Katie's boyfriend Jon told me to start it several times with no gas rolling to clean the gas out of the carburator and that didn't work either.  Stupid machine.  All I ask is a couple ten mile rides out of you and all I get is sputter. 

But I was desperate to get out of the apartment today and on down to Tamarindo.  SO I decided to take the bus, but at the last minute changed my mind, because the bus here is not really on a schedule and who knows when it comes?  I decided to hitchhike.  I've never ever ever hitchhiked in my life.  Seems like something I should scratch off my life's to-do list.  Facing another fear, perhaps.  Well, I decided I was in the right place for it.  People here do it all the time.  Grandmas.  Little kids.  It's how everybody gets around.  Why not me?  So I grabbed my crap and stood on the road with my thumb out, determined not to be afraid, to do it like the locals do.  I could be selective about what car I got into.  Right?  Ten cars passed.  Nothing.  It dawned on me that they were being selective.  Ha.

Finally, a car pulled over.  Filled with two shady sketch old dudes and one high weird young one.  I was hot and the sun was burning me, so I called George, walked around to the back of the car, read off the license plate to him for safety, and got in the car. 

Danger. 

My middle name.  I was feeling pretty good.  I would have patted myself on the back, except my patting hand was clenched around my wallet in a death-like grip, and my back was stuck to the cheap vinyl seat.

Adventure.

Now my job was to get these guys to like me so they wouldn't dream of hurting me, so I used my basic Spanish to find out all about them and their kids and blah blah blah.  Then we started stopping.  Miles from my destination.  I got scared.  'Why are we stopping?', I thought, and got ready to jump out and do the tuck and roll.  Suddently the guy next to me (the one with only four teeth) got out and paid the taxi driver.

That was when I realized I was in a taxi.