A Girl Named Boo

The Promised Land: Parting the Red Sea

2008-07-24T15:31:00.005-04:00

Way back in April of 2007, my hubs and I bought some property. We sold our condo for a "sweet little profit" as my realtor likes say, and started the process of building our own home.

As of today, we are moving for the third time since that April of 2007, and we are NOT moving into our new home. Yet.

It is so close; I can almost lick it. But we are only nearing the hardest part: Finishing the house ourselves. So, we are moving into the basement of the brand new house next door (that would be my mom's pad--story for another day). An unfinished basement. Our entire house. And we will be there for probably the next two months.

Can I tell you what it is like, living with most of your stuff in storage for a year and a half? It is actually pretty cool; I've realized how little I need all this "stuff" that I constantly collect. Now that we are packing up the things we brought to our rental (aka flea bag central, if you were a reader last summer), I just want to throw the boxes in the back of our truck, drive to goodwill, put the tailgate down, reverse into the parking lot really really fast, and hit the brakes. Thud. Boom. Gone.

Simplify simplify simplify. That is what screams through my mind at times like these. Times when I am once again rolling up some delicate little thing that someone gave us one time for the 5th time, putting it in the box, only to pull it out later and put it back on a fucking shelf. Ridiculous.

Anyway, we are moving this weekend. Again. AND! (and this is a very strange happening, especially in my family) every member of my immediate family is ALSO moving this weekend. Guess what that means? No help moving for any of us. It is actually kind of funny; my mom is moving into her brand new house (which totally rocks--I'll post pictures at some point, I think), my brother is moving into his first-time-owner home, and my baby sister might be moving to a different apartment. She doesn't know yet; she still doesn't technically have a place to move to.

Our house should be done by late September. Me and SuperHubs are doing all the painting, trimwork, floors, and putting in our own kitchen. The WHOLE kitchen-caboodle. (See what I did there? Yep.)

So it is like Moses, taking the peeps to the promised land, but now he's got to part the Red Sea. So we are getting geared up to part some sea.

I'm way to busy to be clever today.

Laters.

Boo

Boo's Top Ten: Reasons I Should Not Have Left Bed Today

2008-07-23T15:26:00.003-04:00

10. Nearly sprained my ankle getting out of bed.

9. Nearly breaking my dog's leg by almost spraining my ankle getting out of bed.

8. Late for work.

7. I might not have a place to live when I move out of my rental. Next week.

6. Fighting with the hubs is bad for sex life.

5. No breakfast due to being late for work.

4. Was awake past 2:30 am again. Couldn't sleep.

3. No clean socks. At least, no good clean socks. Everything is packed up to move.

2. Unusually expensive water bill. Like, as in, three times the normal water bill. Which might mean we have a leak, but you know what, fuck it, I'm moving out; my landlord can deal with it.

1. I want to murder everyone that crosses my path with eye daggers. That is probably a good indicator that I should not leave the house. Much less come into contact with....people...

ugh.

Peace, Love & Penitentiary

2008-07-23T09:16:00.005-04:00

Not so nice, Mister Hippie.

The Red Bikini: Who Did it Better?

2008-07-16T21:21:00.005-04:00

Helen or Claire?

Happy Birthday Dance!

2008-07-14T11:55:00.008-04:00

If any of you have siblings, especially younger siblings, then this might ring true for you too, but today is a good day. Why?

Because my brother broke up with the dumbest girl I have ever met. Seriously. Happy dance! My exact words when he told me: "Oh, I am SO GLAD." He just laughed, and then said, "Yeah, that's why I never intended to introduce her to the family." He was smart. I accidentally met her at one of his shows, and it was pretty unfortunate. You see, my brother was raised by some pretty powerful and intelligent women (my mom, a few aunts and a grandma that could bite through nails), and then he has two very outspoken sisters. He knew the score.

He's our BROTHER; we can't have him with just anyone.

Thank god I don't have to sit through another hour of this poor, sweet dumb girl's explanation of why she hasn't worn a skirt in two years (um, who cares honey?) and the reason behind every single ringtone she has ever had on her cell. Gaaaahhhh.

And today is his birthday, so everyone wish my little brother a Happy Day (he's 25 today), and give him a high five for the upgrade in lifestyle.

High five Britt. I love you SO SO SO much, and I am so proud of the person you are! You are my hero, my protector, my advisor, and the best fucking metal guitarist I have ever heard!

Love from your big sis,

Boo

Ear Candy: Between the Buried and Me

2008-07-09T16:56:00.002-04:00

A new metal post on the music blog, y'all.

Here is Between the Buried and Me, Prequel to the Sequel.

My Big Stupid Mouth

2008-07-09T09:28:00.003-04:00

I have a feeling that I'm going to have to work pretty hard to make today a good day. Arg. I think I'm in the middle of a personal crisis. My big stupid mouth! It always gets me into trouble. But my big stupid mouth is usually able to get me out again. But I don't want to talk my way out of this one. I want to take the consequences that come with my actions.

If anyone has a great 'instant cheer' remedy for self-loathing, please let me know ASAP.

Ear Candy: Backyard Betty

2008-07-04T11:15:00.004-04:00

HAPPY AMERICA!!

I hope you all get a little backyard action this holiday weekend. Oh yeah, you know what I mean.

To kick off my first post at Music is the Message, here is Spank Rock's Backyard Betty.

NOT safe for work, y'all.

Pseudo Self Indulgent

2008-07-01T11:04:00.005-04:00

Hi Peeps.

I wanted to throw a little love out there, and let you know that I have been part of a creative writing blog for the last couple of months, Blog Me a Tale, and I just posted another short. Please go check it out, and the other amazing writers that contribute to that blog. Feel free to comment! Writers (well, most writers, I guess) enjoy feedback.

I am also on the verge of another blogging community endeavor, The Music is the Message. It is a dedicated music-lover's blog, and I think as it progresses, you will discover amazing new music, find appreciation for the old stuff, and maybe even give another type of music a chance.

So y'all come on back, ya hear?

Cheers!

Boo

Ear Candy: Say My Name, Say My Name, Say My Stupid Name

2008-06-30T16:11:00.002-04:00

Ah, The Bird & The Bee.

Enjoy Again and Again.

Ear Candy, Kinda

2008-06-27T11:28:00.002-04:00

Grab your middle school make out partner and sway to this one, mugs.

Sorry. I couldn't help myself...

Photo Love: An Auspicious Evening

2008-06-19T11:24:00.003-04:00

Yesterday evening, after coming home from a great dinner with some fantastic friends, me and the hubs had a little visitor: A fledgling great horned owl.

I can't tell you how spiritual and touching it was to be this close to such an amazing animal.

It still had its downy feathers.

We have no real idea about how it got in. There are only two viable options. It could have come through both cat doors (either with or without help from our cat--highly unlikely), or it came down the chimney. I'm guessing the latter.

Robb used my snowboarding gloves and caught it, took it to the edge of the woods, and watched it fly away under the full moon.

Simply breathtaking.

I'm Voting Republican

2008-06-18T10:47:00.002-04:00

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had...

2008-06-17T15:11:00.003-04:00

I Know It's Not My Birthday...

2008-06-17T12:18:00.005-04:00

but if you reeeeeeeaaaally love me, you will find this car for me.

Maybe in a nice jungle green color, with white interior. Yeah, if I had a dick....

Dear Fucking Diary

2008-06-16T17:09:00.009-04:00

Dear Mawthrfucking Diary, *and yes, this is the Amish edit, apparently.

It could have been a stranger weekend, really. I keep telling my husband that, but he just laughs. But, really, it could have been stranger. For instance, my brother could have told me he was pregnant...and not been kidding. See? Now THAT would have been strange.

Or I might have awoken on Saturday morning to a blizzard. That would have been really weird. So all in all, what happened this weekend wasn't completely out of the realm of reality. Just partially, perhaps.

Friday was truly a good day--not a bit of strangeness to be found. I got off work early, thanks to my company and its summer hours policy. I had a delicious margarita, went by a new blues/rock-a-billy club that will be opening soon, and walked around downtown. Gorgeous day, easy to be peaceful. Good.

Me and hubs went to an art opening, met up with some friends for sushi, went back to the opening for free beer, and came home early. No hangover! Good.

Saturday morning, we woke up early (well, early for me not him, that freak), decided to go to the housesite that is finally (FINALLY!!) being built, after which we would go to one of the best swimming holes in the South, and then on to another art opening for a friend, and then a party for three newly engaged couples. Good.

Well, on our way to our new house, we saw this great stuff by the side of the road: Two sets of old movie-type chairs. You know, four chairs connected by heavy metal framing, fold down seats, the whole she-bang. "Free!!!!" we screamed simultaneously, and whipped the car around. Unfortunately, we were in our little gas-efficient vehicle, which I love, but it had no room to fit one set of these lovely chairs, which I didn't love. As we stood by the back of our car, debating our course of action, a gentleman approached us and said he had two more sets of these things if we wanted them.

Score! In a matter of minutes we had doubled our booty. Sixteen cool old chairs! With so much awesome-potential! We asked him if, pretty please, we could hide these things in the bushes on the side of the road, take off the free sign, and later claim them when we had our truck. No problem, he says. Yay we say. So off we zoom to our housesite, see the progress (squeeee), and with the pooch in tow, head toward the swimming hole, aptly named Skinny Dip Falls.

It was a beautiful drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway. There were no tourists on the road--highly unusual for this time of year--so we sped along and were at the spot in record time. It rained off and on the whole drive, and it was fabulous. Living in a temperate rain forest really has its perks. Yes, there was one moment of blinding--and I'm mean literally blinding--downpour in which I coached my sweet hubs to just stay calm, don't brake suddenly, and follow the lines on the road. (Now listen, that shit is scary when there is no guard rail between your little car and a long, long plummet down a mountain that would surely end in serious brusing if not death.) We made it through, phew! and got to the swimming hole. There was a chill in the air, a sprinkle in the breeze, and a spring in our step as we made our way down the trail to the falls.

It was freakin' cold. I mean, gasp for breath fucking cold. And I loved every minute. I jumped in fully clothed as soon as we crossed the rocks, and my dog followed suit (she is so awesome). We swam for as long as we could stand it, hiked down the trail a bit more where the dog rolled in scat and proceeded to completely gross me and hubs out--that shit STINKS, people--and we came back to the falls to wash her off. And then I gave her a bath when we got home. And then another bath. (Cute aside: My doggie-love LOVES the hairdryer. She would lay there for hours as long as I was blowing her fur with a nice warm stream of air. But she hates the vacuum. Go figure--everyone likes to get blown.)

Hubs and I took a shower, and got ready for the friend's art opening. His photographs were amazing--beautiful images full of character, flawlessly exposed, and gorgeous subjects. Great show. I met a friend there, Tom, and his friend, Shane. I say his friend, because I Do Not Like This Woman. There are very few people that, after only two meetings, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I would not tell them if their hair was on fire. This woman is one of them. She is fucking unbelievable. She is whiny, demanding, negative, and just has a sucky attitude in general, and what was about to transpire would not help my attitude towards her whatsoever.

Here is where things get really strange.

Tom, the hubs, the bitch, and I were sitting outside of the gallery space so Tom and Bitch could smoke a cig. As we sat there in the wonderfully pleasant evening, a streetpunk came walking by. He was clearly fucked up on something, probably meth, and was out of it. He asked us collectively if we had a cell phone he could use, and Tom, hubs and I all rightly ignored him. Clueless bitch, however, hands over her cell phone. Now, this kid didn't look like he could remember his own name, much less a 10-digit phone number. And yet, he stood there for almost 25 minutes having the strangest one-sided conversation I have ever heard. I could make very little sense of it, as there was a lot of cursing and huffing, but one thing was clear: No one was on the other side of that conversation. The entire thing was an act for our benefit, a desperate attempt for some type of attention. Red flag.

Finally, after what seemed like forever (especially considering Clueless Bitch's constant complaining that she was hungry) Tom asked the guy politely if she could have her phone back, as we had to go. Tweaker freak slams the phone shut (without saying goodbye to anyone--another indication that he was crazy and having a conversation with no one), throws it at Tom, and screams, "FUCK YOU, YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE!!" and proceeds to verbally abuse the four of us. Now, I just sat there kind of laughing, because I have experienced this kind of shit before, and saying anything just eggs these idiots on. At one point, he even got on his knees in the street and bowed down to us, saying things like You Perfect People, and You Beautiful People.

Um, ok. Crazy fuck.

We gather ourselves, say goodbye to the fabulous artist, and start walking down the block so Clueless Bitch could get some food (she had not stopped complaining through Tweaker Freak's entire tirade), and attempt to leave this freak-fest behind, but of course, he followed us. He harrassed us for three fucking blocks. At one point he screamed at me two inches from my face (I moved away out of fear of catching something nasty) and that was all it took. Something snapped in my sweet-hearted hubby, and my hubs smacked the crackhead with his umbrella. The crackhead tried to come at him, and my hubs smacked him a few more times over the head. He ran back, cowering and screaming, and came at him AGAIN. At this point, I was not going to watch this freak go after my husband, so I employed my square-toe boots and kicked the shit out of that bitch. Luckily, a restaurant owner that I am friends with (and consequently owns one of the most fabulous Southern French 'rants in the South) came out with the cops on the phone, gave them a description of this douchebag, and the freak ran away. But not before my sweet hubs destroyed our umbrella. He had blood on his hands, and it was the tweaker's blood, so he went into the lovely French 'rant to wash up. (Big shout out to Michel, the best Frenchman in the South!)

So what was Clueless Bitch doing this whole time, as my hubs defended me and I defended him? BITCHING ABOUT HOW HUNGRY SHE WAS.

Seriously, what????

That kind of shit doesn't always happen, but when it does, it is kind of strange, isn't it?

Eye Candy: Installation Art

2008-06-16T08:50:00.004-04:00

Here is a slide show of one of my favorite installation artist's work. She is based out of Charlotte, NC, and explores the nature of women, mothers, home, and violence in a way that is gorgeous and heavily layered.

Find more photos like this on Professional Development Program Alumni

Injuries, Part A Million

2008-06-05T16:04:00.008-04:00

Two busted lips.

...

How, you may ask?
I am a dedicated, overly-motivated softball player, that's how!

The funny part: Yesterday after work, I grabbed a drink with my boss. During our meandering conversation, I mentioned I was going to softball practice later that evening, and laughed about having a beer beforehand, thinking it might not be such a good idea. But it was a joke, really, because I've gone to softball games toasted out of my mind. (Hmm, can one truly be 'toasted' out of their mind? The 'toasted' implies a lesser degree of drunkenness, so how could I be out of my mind with it? Anyway, moving on.)

So needless to say, my boss had a good laugh at my expense this morning when I walked in with TWO FAT LIPS. Yeah.

Note: This injury has nothing to do with my ability or inability to play softball. It was pure chance. But man, that wet crunching sound it made when the speeding ball caught me square on my mouth was really fucking disgusting. Because my entire face went numb, I had to feel my teeth with my finger to make sure they were all there. One tooth is a bit more crooked than it should be, but no casualties, I'm happy to report. At least this injury will not prohibit me from playing on Sunday. Beans!

Also on the plus side: I had the most amazing pineapple-habanero ribs today for lunch. Yes, ribs for lunch. I know, I am pure awesome.

Update: Thanks so much to BRAD for the get well ecard!!! You rock, brotha!

At Least My Job Doesn't Suck This Badly

2008-06-05T14:41:00.002-04:00

Although, I've always wondered what it would feel like to just go fucking crazy like this in my office... heh...

Watch and Weep

2008-06-04T15:37:00.003-04:00

It never fails: As soon as someone types a liberal-leaning comment on a website, the haters come out.

"You terrorist loving rag head!"
"Go to the middle east if you hate the US government so much!"

And other comments in that vein. (Yes, these example comments are not direct quotes. I couldn't handle the misspellings and misplaced modifiers. Sue me.)

Well, never call ME a terrorist-loving liberal again.

Talk to these people.

Photo Love: Living History

2008-06-04T09:25:00.005-04:00

Head over to the Huffington Post for this great graphic of papers across the world recording and witnessing history.

Fuck yes.

Photo Love: Ode to TK

2008-05-29T15:42:00.004-04:00

Hee hee!!

On This Day...

2008-05-28T10:23:00.003-04:00

I can't say it has been easy.

These last two years have been pretty unforgiving for both of us, babe, and when I look back now, I can only think, "What would I have done without him?"

You have become such an integral part of my life, that I literally cannot imagine a life without you. And you know how active my imagination is.

We have had some pretty rough patches. There was one day, not all that long ago, that I tried to imagine a life without you, and the furthest I got was a scenario where it wasn't my life at all--it was a stranger's life. I was so angry and hurt that day, and I truly thought that we would not get through it.

But we did. And here we are, celebrating our second anniversary. On this day, two years ago, I was what I like to call, in my Britney mode: chaotic. It is not easy, to say that least, to plan, arrange, pay for, and completely organize a homemade wedding. For 150 people. At my mom's house.

It is also not easy to lose a father two months before he is supposed to walk you down the aisle, holding your manicured hand in his calloused one, tears in his eyes as he escorts you away from childhood and into a world that only you can navigate. It is not easy to stand there, in front of everyone you love--and some you don't--and with all those eyes on you, only notice the pair that aren't there. It isn't easy to acknowledge that I won't have a father-daughter dance, that I won't see my mom and dad there next to us on the dance floor, that he won't get a little too tipsy and maybe fall in the living room again. It isn't easy to watch your mother's face. To watch her miss him in every little moment as well. To watch her living out her own personal hell in front of my family, your family, and all of our friends.

It isn't easy to know that you are the only person I've ever brought home that my dad didn't want to immediately strangle. But at the same time, it is easy.

You were the one, all along. We knew it from the moment we embraced on the street corner. We knew it, and we didn't shy away from the power of it. Thank fucking god we didn't run away from it. It would have been easy to run.

It was easy to stand in front of our world of people and have my brother marry us. It was easy to have my sister there beside me, and your brother beside you--the most important people in our worlds, supporting this huge and scary step. It is easy to remember the vows we wrote for each other, the tree we planted together as a symbol of our union, the wish ribbons hanging from the arbor under which we were married. It is easy to remember dancing with our friends and family, laughing, spinning, watching the night fly away like sands through the hourglass, but on fast forward. It is very easy to remember exchanging rings, seeing your eyes fill with tears as I walked myself down the aisle, hearing everyone--especially my grandfather--belly laugh at my brother's declaration of his vested power.

On this day, two years ago, I was as excited, anxious, happy and as sad as I have ever been. I know we were both exhausted, because we both collapsed in bed that night, without even trying to get into each other's pants. Funny that we didn't even have sex on our wedding night. (I mean, not that we needed to; our sex life has been nothing short of fucking amazing, and continues to blow my mind.)

I look back over these last two years, and I have to say that I am impressed by us, honey. We have grown in ways that I never imagined possible. We have taught each other so much about love and commitment. We have made it through some very tough times.

It would be a gross understatement for me to say that I love you more now than I ever have. Robb, I have never known a love like this. I never imagined that I would be so lucky to have a love like this. You were always out there, waiting, and I was always here, waiting. We were waiting for each other, and every step we have taken in our lives has brought us to where we are today.

Marriage is strange; it is both constricting and freeing. It is rigid, but flexible. It is strange but familiar. It is a perfect balance of selfishness and selflessness.

The words that were spoken as Ginger's wedding, just two weeks ago, still ring true for me: This marriage is completely unique. There has never been, and never will be, a union like ours, for we are both individuals, and we have created something that never existed before. We are moving the world forward just by simply being together.

I want to say how proud I am of you, Robb. You are fearless. You are creative. You are vulnerable. You are chasing your dream and succeeding. You are strong, everyday, for me. You are exploring yourself in ways that you never previously imagined, and you are becoming more You every day. You, Robb; you are my heart.

YOU ARE MY HEART!!!!

I LOVE YOU!!!

Marry me.

Ear Candy: The Raconteurs

2008-05-22T13:36:00.004-04:00

I feel exactly like this today. Video and all.

The Raconteurs -- Salute Your Solution

And just because I totally love this song and this video, and I was reminded by G. Michael on American Idol last night, here's Freedom, and a never hotter Linda Evangelista.

Oh Shit Moments

2008-05-21T10:14:00.002-04:00

Our house is WAAAAAAAAY over budget.

Oh SHIT.