Karma Comedian

Oh Karma, sometimes you just kill me. I was in Anthropologie on Saturday and there was a little girl standing on the bed. Yes, the display bed. The teenage sales girl politely asked her not to stand - she wouldn't want her to get hurt. The mom peeked around a rack of $72 t-shirts that will shrink all twisty the first time they're washed (why do they do that?) and smiled at her sticky little spawn. A few minutes later, the little girl was on her feet again; and this time the salesgirl asked her not to stand in a louder voice, with clear "you little shit" subtext. And a few minutes later, the subtext was "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you retarded? Get off the goddamned bed!"

Later that day at the food court, the same sticky little girl, Hotdog-on-a-Stick in one hand and lemonade in the other, kicked a chair away from a table and turned around to sit in it.

But she missed. And landed on her ass.

Birthdays are good for you. Studies show the more you have, the longer you live.

Monday night when I went to sleep, I made a birthday request of the universe. “Universe, for my birthday, all I ask is that you don’t crap on me tomorrow. Eat some cheese or something, okay?” And you know what? Captain Universe came through! Not only did he stave off the diarrhea attack, but I was overwhelmed with birthday wishes from practically everyone that I love most in the world. And I had dinner at El Callejon. And Kira came up with this little tidbit that I’m still laughing about, “Whenever we go to Marcario’s with Grandma, Conor asks the mariachis to play La Cucaracha.” Because we all know how Grandma loves mariachis!

So thanks for that, Captain U. And thanks everyone for reminding me of just how loved I am. It was the happiest of birthdays!

Sweet ride, Jesus!

Hey, I didn't know Jesus had a van. Now the long hair totally makes sense. Too bad he thinks he's God's gift.

Building an insanity defense - and my painter is total horsesh*t

My sister Colleen and I painted the better part of the downstairs in a day, a really long day that ended with a bottle of wine and paint splatters I'm still trying to chip off the kitchen floor. Unlike most projects I ask Colleen for "help" with, I actually did a full 5o percent of the labor on this one, and didn't fake like it was too hard so she'd get frustrated and do it all herself. And for the record, that usually works, so it was pretty tempting.

I'm happy with the color, Oyster by Behr, like a paint name means anything to anyone. I'm also happy with my current nail polish color, Hoodoo Voodoo?! by OPI which is equally meaningful to you, I'm sure. But I digress.

So, having a full understanding of the amount of work entailed in painting the rest of the house, I called in a professional for an estimate. Things were going well until he eyed the aluminum foil lining the dining room floor. When he asked what is was for, I told him it was to keep the government from listening to my thoughts. So, the painter estimated $2,400 just to do the walls, which is total horsesh*t, but I'm not gonna hold it against him. He couldn't get out of here fast enough, and he probably wanted to make sure he never had to come back.

For the record, the foil is really to keep the cat from peeing in the dining room. Bet you want to come to dinner at my house now, don't you? On the upside, I'm off to a great start building an insanity defense, and that makes me very, very happy because at the rate the horsesh*t is piling up in my life right now, I just might need it.

Hey Pretty Laaaady - and my upholsterer is total horseshit

Two Saturdays in a row I schlepped down to North Park to pick up my coffee table (an upholstered coffee table, you ask? well, don't because that's another story) and both times Oscar blew me off, so the third time when I was waiting outside his shop in what I can now call a pretty shitty neighborhood since it's no longer my neighborhood, I had to put my foot down and insist he drag his sorry, hung-over ass to the shop and give me my goods! Not that I minded the wait - I had a very nice conversation with a homeless man - at least I think it was a conversation. Anyway, we were both talking. So as he (Oscar, not the homeless man) was watching me struggle as I shoved the table into the trunk of my car, I mentioned that I had a chair in need of a slipcover. He offered to hook me up with access to the design center (San Diego has a design center? who knew?) to pick out fabric, but he couldn't resist getting a dig in. "You gonna leave the chair with me for a month?" Hello Oscar, that is total horseshit! I drove down to La Tienda Oscar two weeks in a row!

On the upside, Oscar's is just a cross the street from the Pretty Lady Salon which makes me very, very happy. I took a picture of it to text to my niece Emma, but then I forgot about it and never did. The sign used to have shiny gold garland stapled around it which was even better, but just the sign and no garland is pretty fabulous.