Because five years is so obvious.


Dare I Say?

I think the more senior gentlemen who live on my street have really warmed up to me since I started staying home and doing traditional lady things like wearing an apron, shaking out rugs & blankets and gardening.

When I brush the flour off my hands mid-pie-crust-rolling and run out to meet the mailman in my apron, it's like I'm bringing a comforting piece of 1955 back to the neighborhood.

And now the neighbors say "hi" and wave from across the street. Ah, misogyny.


Mean Vagrant

This whole layoff-induced work-at-home thing has really surprised me in that it's been completely difficult and at times, depressing. I did not expect that. I thought it would be a constant party (a productive one, but one all the same); I expected more fun lunches and sunshine* and Bloody Marys and less staring at the wall and L&O.

When I tell people that working for myself has been hard, most immediately jump to "Yeah, it's hard to motivate yourself and manage your own time." But that stuff is pretty easy for me - most of the time - because I used to be a total slack ass. Marta circa 2000 could piss away entire days watching television and eating last night's pizza like nobody's business.

So when we decided that I would write instead of finding another cubicle to park my ass in, I made some serious decisions about time management and I've largely stuck to them. I make lists. I meet goals. Plus unlike 2000 Marta I like to do more stuff than watch TV. Like cook. And read. And stuff. So that's motivating.

So, you might ask, "What is hard about working at home?

For me, it's feeling useless no matter what I actually accomplish. Because there's not really anyone there to watch or notice besides Brian and let's face it: he's biased. I guess I'm like that stupid celebrity quote about life not worth living unless people are watching or whatever. Without a boss or coworkers, it's like what I do doesn't exist. And I know that I'm ramping up to a place where I'll do this work and have a work structure, but for now, I'm going a tiny bit nuts.

Sometimes this manifests itself in weepiness, which I hate. Today it's just making me feel dark and snarky. I feel like taking an optimistic second grader down a notch. Saying something really morale busting, like "Oh sure, it's all sunny now, kid. But just wait until life kicks your ass." And then I'd swill from some brown-bagged beverage.

I guess what I'm saying is: I feel like being a mean vagrant. Eh. I still think it's better than weeping.

*Seriously. "May Gray?" That's what all the weather people are saying now. Um, I've lived in LA for 3 and a half years and this is the first I've heard of this. So now, Weatherpeople, you're telling me I have to endure "May Gray" AND "June Gloom?" What's next, you motherfuckers? "July-Poke-Me-in-the-Eye?" Sunny southern California, my ass.

Dogs: Different Than Me

Because even if I could lick my own ass, I would not. I would especially not do that and then try to lick a person in the face afterwards.


Can we all agree...

That the term "injectable filler" is just nauseating? Listen, I don't really care if you wanna Botox your face or cram Restalyne in your lips; I've seen good work and bad work. I may even try it myself one day.

But really? I-N-J-E-C-T-A-B-L-E F-I-L-L-E-R?

Frankly it just makes me think of caulk. And I don't want caulk in my face. (Yes, it *is* a funny sentence out loud, you 14 year old boy).


Reason #84759 Unemployment Rocks

Can I just say? I love the theme song to the Dr. Phil show. I've always felt like if it had lyrics - right after the musical ramp-up at the beginning - they would be "I am Doctor Phil and I am going to change your life. I am Doctor Phil and I am going to change your LIIIIIIFE!" Then for the very last part, a little more quietly: "My naaaame is Doc-tor Phil!"

Next time it comes on, just try not to think of my lyrics.

On a semi-related note, does anybody remember when Oprah sang her theme song and the lyrics at the very end were "Ooooooo-ooooo-op-rah"? I also loved that.

Dogs: Different Than Me

Personally I think the mailman is an alright guy.



I'm sick of pretending.

Oatmeal: I'm done with you. You've used up all your chances. I'm sorry, but just don't like you that way. For breakfast. Or any other meal.