Sunday, January 13, 2008

Housekeeping, Odds and Ends

I hate pissing off so many people. I really like my blog to be a generally creative, fun, entertaining space but I haven't been feeling particularly amusing lately. It happens. I feel a bit awkward now after enraging the anorexic and obese communities. You can't just jump right back into telling funny stories can you? Personally, I don't see why not, so I'm going to try, but first I really need to clarify.

My healthy eating tips were not aimed at the overweight. They were aimed at everyone. Healthy eating is my passion and being a bit fanatical, I believe that the majority of Americans, regardless of size, eat like crap. My tips were not about losing weight they were about eating to avoid disease. Of course, most of the time eating to avoid disease will probably cause one to lose weight and losing weight can also help lower one's risk of illnesses, so they aren't mutually exclusive. So for the record, you skinny people eat like fucking assholes too, ok? Shit, you all should have seen what I ate for dinner. I am a total hypocrite. Want to feel better? I made Philly Cheesesteaks and then sat there and tried to justify it by saying that at least my ingredients were low fat and organic and at least I made it all from scratch. I mean, I could have been eating Steakums right? But about halfway through I asked myself if I was eating like a fucking asshole and I had to admit that indeed, I was, so I had to stop. So there, I'm not perfect. We're all assholes sometimes.

Anyway, I feel like moving on to lighter topics.

Remember the house across the street that seemed like it had been being built forever? I think it may finally be done.

For a long time the residents of Basura del Este speculated on who might be the owner of this jaundice colored monstrosity. Rumors swirled between joggers and dog walkers that the home was being built by a very famous football star who I had never heard of because no matter how many times Pop Byron has tried to explain the game to me, I still just can not understand it. It's like I have a learning disability specifically prohibiting me from understanding the rules of American football. My grandfather has gotten so frustrated with me that he has literally sworn at me in frustration.

"God dammit, how hard is it to understand???" he yells.

"So they get how many tries to move the ball somewhere? And then when do they throw it through the big H?" I ask and ask until he pulls his last remaining hair from the top of his head.

Since I don't follow a game I can't comprehend I never heard of the guy and now it looks like the rumors were false anyway. For the past two weekends the builder has held an open house where a frighteningly shiny faced real estate agent has led a veritable fiesta of potential buyers through the home, across the travertine floors and sent them out with cards, brochures and small bottles of Fiji water. I've kept an eye on the process because I'm scoping out my potential new neighbors. I suspect that because of the horrendous state of our housing market now that the only kind of person looking to buy a home of this sort is going to be someone with masses and heaps of expendable cash, so a celebrity would make sense. Or a criminal. This is South Florida afterall and with my luck the real life Sopranos will move in across the street.

Husband and I were out yesterday fishing leaves from the birdbath with a kitchen sieve when a bald man in a Lotus drove up with his 20 year old girlfriend in the passenger seat. I noticed instantly that her boobs bore an uncanny resemblance to the top of his head. It was really weird. It was like she had two hairless men buried face down inside her sundress. She was wearing large sunglasses and chewing on chocolate covered altoids one after the other in some sort of odd nervous tick. The man got out of the car and looked at Husband and I stirring around in the birdbath.

"I'm building this exact house," said the man.

"Oh yeah?" said Husband (I wanted to say "so").

"I'm building it 30% bigger," the man replied before getting in his car and speeding off.

"Did that man really drive all the way over here specifically to tell us that he was building a bigger version of that house?" I asked.

Husband confirmed this.

And why would I care about this? Because if you were wondering, I don't.

An entire afternoon passed where very boring Rich White People drove up in nice cars wearing clothes that made them look as if they'd just arrived from a photoshoot from the Brooks Brothers catalog, and finally my prayers were answered an a big group of Black people showed up in three matching yellow Porsches. That did seem a bit odd, but well, at least they coordinated. I watched intently from the upstairs window.

They were all very dressed up. I wouldn't have been surprised if the men had all put on top hats and twirled canes. The ladies had tall hairdos and all of them wore a great deal of jewelry. I wanted them to be famous. I wanted them to buy the house. I wanted them to buy the house so much that it was all I could do not to go downstairs and tell them myself how fantastic this neighborhood was and why they needed to live here. Just think about the possibilities. I mean, what extraordinary sorts of people would all have matching cars? I was fascinated. Plus, they were BLACK PEOPLE!! Diversity! Finally! And diversity with style even. It was too good to be true.

This new neighborhood of mine isn't all that ethnically varied. It's an unusual place really - a combination of old and new because it's in a state of huge transition. It used to be a quiet little beachfront community where people grew old in one story houses with crank windows and gravel instead of grass lawns. Then the old people started dying off and the developers got ahold of the now expensive properties and tore down the old style homes building mega-villas in their places which allowed a new generation of residents to move in. At this point the new building has slowed down leaving half of the neighborhood still little houses built in the 60s and the other half three story, waterfront mansions with gates and yacht dockage. It makes for an odd mix of people, but none of them are all that diverse. You've got people's grandparents and Rich White People from New York but they're all pretty much white, save for a few Venezuelans. I've never seen any African Americans until now. I wonder if they liked the house. Oh please let them have liked the house.

Someone asked me a couple days ago what was going on with my parents and now I have an answer. I called them yesterday to see why I hadn't heard from them in a week. They went into some long explanation about my mother losing her phone in Orange County or something and how the puppy got fixed and then totally out of the blue my mom goes:

"We're going to this movie festival called Sundance. Have you ever heard of it?"

"The Sundance Film Festival? Duh, of course," I said.

"Well it's supposed to be really big and a lot of stars are there and they have these big parties the liquor companies throw everynight so we decided we're taking the RV and we're going to ski. It's in Colorado or something."

"Park City, Utah actually."

"Oh No, Honey, she said it's in Utah. Is this some Mormon shit you're taking me to? I thought you said there was liquor!" I heard my mom saying to my dad.

Then my dad spent like six minutes explaining to her that it wasn't run by Mormons and that there would indeed be cocktails. I still have yet to figure out why my parents are going to a film festival, but nothing would surprise me at this point. For all I know they've turned into members of the paparazzi by now. Or they could be famous and next week I'll see them in US Weekly on some red carpet. You just never know with my parents.

I wouldn't be a bit phased if my mom called me up tomorrow and told me they had taken the RV across the land bridge into Russia or if they decided overnight to fly to some small African country and become King and Queen. I could absolutely see my mother as the warlord of a tiny African nation. She'd look spectacular in fatigues and a beret with lots of chunky, gold jewelry. I can imagine the phone call I'd get.

"Sweetie, we're in Africa. Your father's riding a zebra and I've taken over a rebel faction and we're kicking the Janjaweed's asses, those motherfuckers! Hey Mbutu, light me up a cigarette, will ya? What's that Mokelembembe? You roasting up some wildebeest for supper? You got any ketchup around here? God dammit. Honey, you there? Yeah, you need to send me some ketchup and the mosquitos here on the veldt, Jeezuz H. Christ I ain't seen bugs that big - but anyways, I just got my militia to take over a diamond mine, so I'll be sending you a five carat - Holy Shit! I hear machine gun fire. I gotta go. Don't let Bomboclaat piss on my oriental carpets!"

So honestly I don't know if they're going to Sundance or not, but I hope they do because that would be interesting to hear about.

I'll keep you updated on the house across the street and my parents' travels in the RV.


Green said...

Dude don't worry about it. Negative publicity is still publicity. Plus, you've got people thinking, which is always good.

Sure you've got the anorexics who threw up while they were volunteering at North Shore Animal League so of course they commented that they were not too inward-focused. But you also probably quietly got at least one person, if not more, to say, "Huh. I do spend a lot of time looking at my scale, and I HAVE always wanted to tutor kids ...."

Don't worry about it.

MP said...

I spent a YEAR eating awesome...and I dropped some lbs..then ate like an asswhole for 2 months and gained it all back. FUCK!

I hope that your mom and dad spend some time with Robert Redford..I want to be a fly on the wall..can you even imagine??

LB said...

I loved your food and addiction blogs. You said clearly and directly what you were thinking. Nothing wrong with that. You also poked a button for me. About 2/3 of the way through the reads I had to admit that I do eat and drink like an asshole. Wake up call!


Diana said...

Just chiming in to lend my support. That post resonated with me and I admired your guts for saying some things that I've concluded to my innermost, private self but have never dared to say aloud. I almost even commented anonymously but decided to take a page from your book!

(For the record, I've struggled with depression for many, many years and my best periods are when I'm too busy living to wallow. I have been known to be horribly self-absorbed and narcissistic, most often when I'm "depressed." And when I was in my teens I spent a few years in eating disorder territory, years during which I was an insufferable pain in the ass to everyone.)

JoeInVegas said...

Matching yellow cars - do they have a big enough garage for a fleet like that? (also have to count the two Hummers as well).

Anonymous said...

Hey, its your blog, you can write whatever the hell you want. Nobody ever wants to hear the things they need to be told, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be said.

If people don't like it, they don't have to read it.

Keep up the good work!

RC said...

I know how much you like Flo Rida, so I though you'd enjoy this remix

It's actually pretty kick ass.

Amy said...

OMG! I totally don't get football, either! (I'm going to leave the food asshole eating anorexia controversy alone.)

One time, I was idly sitting with my dad half watching a football game with him, when I asked, "What's a Line Of Scrimage?" You'd have thought I asked him where our family came from or what his first name was. He was apoplectic. "WHAT?! How could you ask me such a stupid question?! HOW ON EARTH do you not know that?! I thought you were smart!"


I don't know why we're just expected to know how that game works. It's like, they just expect you to know through osmosis or something. I don't get it. And I still don't know what a Line of Scrimage is. Or why sometimes they kick the ball at the big goal thing even when they haven't scored a touchdown. It's the second most baffling sport on the planet. The first most baffling is cricket.

misha said...

about eating like an asshole - i am skinny and I eat like one - thank god for yoga :)

Crabby McSlacker said...

By the end of the post I forgot all about the anorexia controversy (which I think I'll stay well out of). I just got totally distracted by the bald-man boobs and your mother as warlord of a tiny African nation. Hilarious.

Reb said...

It is your blog, you can say whatever the hell you want to. I am a fatty & I eat like a fucking asshole. Thank you for giving me a phrase to use and the suggestions for changing.

I hope you don't wind up "Sopranos" neighbours, but a little diversity would be interesting.

DippyChick said...

I think the first commenter... commentor?... maker-of-comment, is brilliant. Good advice.

Also, today I did have to ask myself if I was eating like a fucking asshole, and I was! But they were gluten-free oatmeal cookies that I made from scratch. I even used agave nectar and I used applesauce instead of eggs. I threw in some sliced almonds and organic coconut to be creative. They were freaking great! So yeah, I did eat like an asshole somewhat, but it was soooo worth it. Then I played DDR for an hour on "hard" and burned them off. :-)
I can't wait to hear about the house across the street and your parent's adventure!

Steph said...

I love sports, but I don't get football either!

Your blog is hilarious, btw.

Anonymous said...

Girl, you are superb.

Heather said...

I'll just add my voice to the masses saying, don't apologize for having an opinion, my goodness, that's what blogs are for. You've given me the extra motivation I needed to make those lifestyle changes. That and the body challenge shows they're showing on Discovery Health. The only question I have is how do you rule pecan pie out of your life?! A good Southern girl like you has to have a corn-syrup free solution, and I'd love to hear it.

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