Sunday, October 30, 2011

Phoning it In — or how I got brave and murdered everyone at the Halloween party

I don't feel so good.

I think it's because I socialized this week. I try not to socialize. It works me all up and then I get tired and cranky. This endearing trait is brought to you by stress and sleep deprivation. I share it with toddlers everywhere. Isn't my husband so lucky?

Even though I wanted to spend my weekend curled up on the futon obsessing about school work and school teaching and other such things, I submitted to my husband like all good wives do. On both Friday and Saturday night, I put on pants, went outside my house, and talked to other people. You're welcome. Now where's my prize?

Now, before you say who is this crazy broad and why should I give her a prize just for wearing pants? let me remind you that I wore pants two nights in a row and, more importantly, this was Halloween weekend. That means Halloween parties. And that means Halloween costumes. Costumes are not exactly a Rob and Gretta forte. We're all talk with no follow through. And even though Halloween comes at the same time every year, it always sneaks up on us. Like a zombie: slow, steady, and in your face, but somehow, you're still surprised when it takes a bite out of your brain.

We threw together our costumes on Saturday morning before I left for work. Originally it was going to be the low-key lumberjack/mime combo. Rob got ambitious and switched it to the sock monkey/bearded baby with a sippy cup combo at the last minute. People were charmed once we explained it to them. You'd be surprised how many people don't recognize a sock monkey hat when they see it. (You'd also be surprised by how many people have a problem with the concept of a bearded baby.)

It was a good party. Caramel apple bites, spider-topped cupcakes, brain-eating demon babies...this party had everything you'd ever want from a Halloween soiree. But then the games began.

If you know me, you know I'm not into games. Party-wise, I'm more into snacks. The hostess handed us each a slip of paper that informed us that OHNOHOLYCRAP! There's a murderer at this party! I read a little further, expecting to find instructions on how to avoid the pretend killer and blah blah blah and wait.... What? The killer is me? You mean I have to *gasp* talk to people I don't already know!?

Okay. I had a couple of choices. I could switch papers with Rob and make him do the dirty work. Or I could man up and start winking at strangers. I manned up. I winked at Rob and Toni first, making sure to do it with my right eye so they couldn't tell how bad I am at winking with my left eye. Then I ran to the bathroom cause I really had to go. At first, I tried the normal party schmoozing followed by a wink. But that got lame fast. So then I just started walking up to people and winking them to death without any of the pleasantries. The guy in the Jesus costume was on to me (all-knowing being that he is), but I got him eventually. He ended up being fine, though.

I killed the crap out of everyone at that party. And I made my husband proud! He didn't think I would go through with it. Of course, he didn't know about any of it til after he was dead...ha! ;)

The prize was the best part. Check this out:


Thursday, October 13, 2011

I know what I want for my birthday.

I only want one thing and I just realized tonight what it is. I want a Puppy Party.

Don't tell me I can't have it. I saw it on Parks and Rec tonight, so I know it's a thing. Don't tell me it's not a thing.

Here's what I need: 10 puppies. 10 kittens. All varieties. No more than 8 weeks old. I'll take up to 10 weeks in a pinch, but it's best if they're tiny, obviously. I want them in boxes. One for the boys and one for the girls. Obviously. Actually, not boxes. Wooden crates with old timey printing on the side. Lined with cotton candy.

....

Or I could use some new shoes.



Friday, October 7, 2011

They've got something up their sleeves...

Hey, invisible blog friends. I know I've been neglecting you. It's been madness at Chez Whalen, which is what I call my house now. It's ironic, too, because it makes it seem like my house is French and fancy. I assure you, it is neither.

But chezs (chez's? chezes?) and fanciness is not what I swung by this dusty blog to talk to you about. 

What I'd actually like to bring your attention to is rabbit masks and blow darts and Rob in a newsboy cap.


This is Shotgun Honeymoon's new video for "Up to Something". You might be saying, "What's Shotgun Honeymoon?" And then I might be saying, "You never listen when I talk to you!" (It's alright, though. I can cut you a break. It's been a super long time since I brought it up. Like Squints from The Sandlot, I've had a lot of things on my mind.) Shotgun Honeymoon is the band Rob collaborates with and plays drums for and now produces. Not to brag, but he's pretty much a multitalented genius. And of course he is because I would never marry a dummy. I mean...I might get close, but I would never actually go through with it.

Invisible blog friends: do me a favor, will you? Will you watch this video a few (hundred) times? Will you post it to your facespace walls? Will you tell your friends? And will you fondly anticipate the release of the mythical "EP" that Rob and Eric keep talking about? Ah, you guys are the best.

Stay tuned for more incredible music after the break!