So I randomly looked at my site statistics, and PEOPLE HAVE FOUND THIS WEBSITE VIA SEARCH ENGINES!
#reqs search term
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kikisdemolition.com: Come for the moose attacks, stay for the funny mothers!
We move at the end of June, and we really should be packing, but there are infinitely more pleasurable activities than packing. For example:
1. Box hunting
Much more than packing, I enjoy box hunting. The cafeteria at the school throws out a lot of high quality boxes, so I spend my lunch creeping around behind the kitchen, snatching up the discards. One of the lunch ladies (why do we universally call them lunch ladies? I guess ‘noontime supervisor’ sounds less endearing) told me to keep an eye out for the fry boxes on Wednesday, and oh, how I love me a fry box. They’re so big and sturdy, with dense cardboard… the very thought of fry boxes sends shivers down my spine. Whenever I collect an especially luscious box, I brag to my mom about it, and we praise each other’s daily finds while we try to shove them all into the Jeep. Our garage is overflowing with boxes, and it’s a sight to be seen. It’s kind of disappointing that this massive collection will be wasted on something as silly as packing. There’s a real thrill to the hunt, and my eyes light up whenever I see a pile of boxes.
2. Buying chickens for the new barn at the new house
I doubt many other people in our suburban subdivision can say they have a box full of 4-day old chicks in one of their bedrooms. The babies are getting all feathery in the wing and are very cute. I spied on them for half an hour yesterday, and was very fascinated by their behavior. They’re really into the buddy system, and like to do things as a herd. One of them will get the brilliant idea to get a drink of water, and 5 others will follow her to the watering thingamajig. If one starts mysteriously pecking at a random wood shaving in the corner of the box, another 2 will show up and start pecking at the same shaving. I also like how all but one will get randomly tired, and huddle up in a corner to fall asleep. Then the odd bird out will figure out it’s nap time, and bound over, leaping into the center of the huddle, waking everyone else up. Thus rudely awakened, they all get up and start running around again. They peck at each other’s eyes a little, which is worrisome but seemingly innocuous.
I’m still on the lookout for some exotic birds to add to the flock. I have a lead on a place that sells Araucana chicks, and I’m anxiously daydreaming about collecting blueish/greenish/pinkish/goldish/olive drabish eggs.
3. Gardening at the new house
Who knew gardening was fun? We’re putting in a huge vegetable garden with 9 different kinds of tomatoes (including “Black from Tulsa,” a blackish heirloom tomato that’s supposedly the “ugliest, most delicious tomato ever grown”), potatoes, corn, peas, carrots, spinach, lettuce, cabbage (2 or 3 kinds! Too bad cabbage is semi-inedible), broccoli, cauliflower, squash, basil, garlic, and onions. And probably other things I forgot. There’s a peach tree, an apple tree, a pear tree, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, and grapes. Once our chickens start laying eggs, we’ll be full-fledged farmers!!! We’re also growing some small pumpkins and also those useless mini pumpkins that have no purpose except for strewing about the Thanksgiving table for decoration. I’m enchanted by some albino pumpkin seeds I saw, so maybe I can sneak those in, too.
I also planted some GIANT zinnias, including some giant Green Envy zinnias that I’m frivolously hoping will match the Bug. I also got some CRIMSON sunflowers!
4. Crocheting a hat to wear while gardening at the new house
New hobbies require new tools. I’m also looking for gardening shoes!
5. Buying fish for the new pond at the new house
Koi! Sarasa Comets!
6. Lusting after furniture to buy for the new house
My 2006 Ikea catalog is more dog-eared than the proverbial Playboy under the mattress. I peruse, I plan, I calculate, I lust. I got rid of my old fiberboard desk in favor of the future desk of my dreams. New house, new desk. I’m currently leaning toward the Tovik, just because solid wood (albeit pine) seems dreamy. Also, it’s cheap.
7. Buying bedding for the new house
I’m such a whore for mod 60s stuff. I also want this chair:
8. TiVoing* decluttering/organization shows
Oh, how I love those decluttering shows. I think my family will be horrified when they find out that the hard drive is filled with episodes of Clean House, Clean Sweep, and Mission: Organization. I like to pretend that these shows will inspire me to throw out most of my earthly belongings in preparation for the move. My real love is Neat, with the irrepressibly lovable and irrepressibly Canadian Hellen Buttigieg. Hellen, I could listen to you say “about” and “out” for hours. Please come organize my life.
* When did TiVo become a verb? I’m so glad it did; it’s so much cooler than taping things. Although I’m a TiVo wannabe with my Comcast-branded DVR.
9. Getting a hybrid Natalie Portman/Kylie Minogue-post-chemo (yay for remission!) haircut
10. Blogging about not packing
See above. I’m obsessed with the new house. I don’t want to have anything to do with the old house, particularly something as mundane as packing. I’m ready to move into the new place RIGHT NOW. Let me just grab my toothbrush and I’ll be ready to go.
We’re officially chicken farmers now, with a flock of eight. Is it bad that when my mom and I brainstormed names, we came up with Drumstick, Crispy, Nugget, Fried, Mc, Kiev, Shake, and Bake? Alternatively, we could name one Colonel Sanders and another Bojangles.
Now that we’re moving to a house with more land (and a barn!), we pretty much had to get chickens. The cool thing is that this is a feminist chicken colony. They don’t need no man chicken. Girl power!
These are Rhode Island Reds, which the feed store guy said were smarter AND less aggressive than New Hampshire Reds! Whatever that means! We’re hoping to get our hands on an Araucana, which actually lays GREENISH BLUE EGGS! And sometimes pink eggs! Apparently, the first 2 weeks of a chicken’s life are the most crucial for forming a cohesive flock. That’s when they establish their pecking order. If you try to put some random chickens together later in life, they’ll probably fight, maybe even to the death.
We have T-minus 12 days to obtain some fancy adoptive siblings for these guys. It’s like an episode of 24 or something. The clock is ticking!
P.S. Don’t worry, we’re not planning on eating these fuzzies. We’re just going to steal their unborn children and serve them with toast.
I found this in the 7th grade hallway. I sure hope this is an example of long-term, not short-term planning!
I think they’re hoping for a girl.
Please enjoy and use often.
“This is an AB conversation, so C your way out of here before D jumps over E and Fs you up, G.”
The perennial Yo’ Mama joke:
Your momma’s so…
“… old she was a waitress at the Last Supper.”
“… ugly she went to a strip club and they paid her to put her clothes back on.”
“… stupid she went to a Clipper’s game and expected to get a haircut.”
“… old she sat behind Jesus in kindergarten.”
Today as I walked past the school’s hall monitor, eavesdropping on the gossip coming from his walkie-talkie, I suddenly realized that I want to spend a few months working a job that requires me to wear a walkie-talkie. I’d love eavesdropping on other people’s walkie-talkie conversations, and I’d love making walkie-talkie prank calls, just because I’m deviant like that. I’d also like to operate a public address system or a megaphone, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
The only time I’ve ever had the chance to wield a walkie-talkie was as an RA during freshman move-in. We were supposed to coordinate with some RAs in another building, but it took about 5 minutes before I started pranking the other walkie-talkie. Then some boring person decided that I wasn’t allowed to be walkie-talkie operator anymore, due to my whimsical announcements.
I really feel for kids nowadays. How do they have any fun, with the advent of Caller ID? It’s been a real bane for the prank call hobbyist.
Much as I love the walkie-talkie, and much as I love eavesdropping, I can’t stand those Nextel walkie-talkie phones. I’ll be in a dressing room, trying on a pair of jeans, and I’ll hear the entirety of a conversation in the next room.
*baLOOP*
“Hey, what’s goin’ on? I was just driving and drinking a cup of coffee, and I thought I’d call and see what you were up to.”
“Oh, I’m just trying on some clothes at Old Navy.”
*baLOOP*
“Cool. What are you trying on?”
Somehow, Nextel walkie-talkie conversations just seem more inane than regular public cell phone conversations. Maybe it’s because I can hear both ends. Plus, the baLOOP sound is just so damn invasive! baLOOP! Just get a plan with a carrier that offers free in-network calls, numbskulls.
Today’s Rants brought to you by Kiki the 80-Year-Old-Crazy-Cat-Lady
While perusing the library’s new books (where there’s a cheerful sign reminding you that while the books may not be new in the traditional, time-sensitive sense of the word, they’re new to you), I came across a murder mystery that I figured may have some potential. “Jeffrey Cohen is the Jerry Seinfeld of mystery writing,” one review on the back cover proclaimed. That sounded promising. So I read the mystery, and it was okay, but I couldn’t quite see the Seinfeld comparison. It was written humorously, but not in the madcap, existential, inanity-of-everyday-life kind of way that Seinfeld was. Finally it dawned on me that the main character was Jewish. So is that it? It’s a funny story with a Jewish protagonist?
Then I got to thinking about Augusten Burroughs. While checking for David Sedaris’s* latest books on Amazon last year, I came across one of those “If you like David Sedaris, you’ll love Augusten Burroughs” recommendation links. Investigating further, I noticed that Kirkus Reviews even commended Burroughs’s “self-mocking, Sedaris-like humor.” Perfect! I love David Sedaris, so I promptly read all of Augusten Burroughs’s books. It turned out that I loved Burroughs, too, but the comparison of the two seemed unusual. Both writers are hilarious memoirists, but Burroughs is much darker, and his stories focus much more on his messed-up upbringing and struggles with addiction. Then I finally realized that the real connection was that they both happen to be gay. So that makes it a genre? Memoirs Written by Funny Gay Men?
What’s next? Is J.K. Rowling the Emily Brontë of children’s books, seeing as they’re both British women? Borders has sections for African American Literature and Gay/Lesbian Interest. Are they going to start a new category for Women Authors, too? How about a category for books written by White, Heterosexual, Able-bodied, Christian Men? Oh wait, they do. It’s called “Fiction.”
* What on earth is the current grammatical convention for indicating possession for a proper noun ending in -s? I think Strunk and White insisted that you add an ’s, unless it’s a hard core proper noun like Jesus or Moses. But at Purdue, you look for “James’s hat,” while at the University of Oregon, you copy “Chris’ exam.” The inconsistency, it drives me mad! It’s not that I’m obsessed with grammar, as a cursory read of my blog will surely indicate, but I just want it known, for the record, that I worried about typing Sedaris’s, and tried to get Internet Verification on it, and found the world to be full of contradictions. Le sigh.
I was one of those kids who didn’t get to play with magnifying glasses or microscopes enough while growing up*, so I’ve been making up for it now. Ever since getting the Raynox DCR-250 super macro lens for my camera, I’ve been endlessly amused by making tiny things big. Look! They were so little! Now they’re so big! I never really appreciated how complex flowers are, or what an anal perfectionist Mother Nature is. That chick is seriously into the details.
*(I was too busy rotting my brain with computer games.)
I’m not really into bugs, except for the ones with effective marketing campaigns and strategic PR, like the ladybug and the butterfly. Most bugs are okay at a distance, but I don’t want to get too touchy-feely with them, you know? Now that I have a super macro lens, however, I’ve developed more of an interest in entymology. My first reaction is always “EUGH,” with an occasional shudder, but my second reaction is to grab my camera and crawl around with the creepy crawlies. Pretty much every bug I’ve come in contact with since February has been exhaustively documented.
Back row: Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries, Ruffles LOW-FAT Potato Chips, Betty Crocker French Vanilla Cake Mix
Front row: Nestlé Toll House Cookie Dough, Betty Crocker Vanilla Frosting, Coconut Flakes
