Thursday, August 20, 2009

NEW BLOG, BITCHES!!!

Hey guys...I've created a new blog and I'll be over here from now on...

http://sexandthehumidity.blogspot.com/

Bookmark it! Tell your friends (in case you have any)...

mwah!!!!

Love n stuff, Krissyface

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Here we go

well, this is my last day in New York. I just woke up from the most bizarre dream. No, my dreams are getting more and more fucked up as I approach the big move. This one had me staying in a hotel in Thailand (?) and James Earl Jones and Dick Cheney were both staying there too. There was a community bathroom and I saw both of them naked getting out of the shower. And they both had pierced scrotums. JEJ had dangling earrings of Ganesh hanging from his balls.

The other night, I was boarding the airplane to Louisiana, but the door was really tiny and my ass couldn't fit through and I got stuck. I felt really claustrophobic and freaked out, then woke up. Also, I dreamed I was at a party with my boyfriend and we got in a fight and I slapped him across the face. Then ran away but got chased down the hall by a patron of the party (an older lady) who yanked my pants down and sharply spanked my on the ass. I assume these are anxiety dreams. I mean, this is a bit of a life-altering plunge I'm about to take, yes? I mean, who am I if I'm not the saucy NYC girl blogger with the sassy five year old? It will take me a little bit of time to figure out where I fit down south, but I'm confident I will.

Those dreams, though. I am surprised I'm not dreaming about how the fuck I'm gonna travel across the country later today with a small child and two freaked out cats.

That one I'm really anxious about.

See you on the other side, m'lovlies! Mwah!!!!!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

New York, New York, you're a hell of a town

Hi, y'all. As most of you know, I'm relocating from NYC to the deep south, and this whole tearing-up-of-the-urban-roots is taking place in about a week. A week!

Holy SHIT!!!

I have been so busy wrapping up my freelance job, packing up my crap (sweaters and snow boots going in storage at mom's, kick ass!) and drinking heavily that I have hardly had a minute to stop and think about what I'm really doing.

I will probably start a new blog once I'm settled with lots of funny (sad? pointless? retarded?) anecdotes about what it's like being a transplanted NY girl living in the wilds of southern Louisiana.

What should I call it? I need help, you guys. Give me some ideas for titles.

Anyway, as I was waiting in line at Starbucks this morning, and a girl with a headset walked up and down the line of itchy, undercaffeinated city folk taking drink orders, I thought, goddamn, I am so not gonna miss this. Really, I'm not. I have told my boyfriend repeatedly that the drive-thru Starbucks alone is worth the move to Baton Rouge, and I meant it.

I will miss a lot of things about my beloved city, though. I won't lie. I just can't think of them right now. Let me get through this Venti iced coffee and I'll blog more about that later.

So...the adventure continues...stay with me, folks. This is just the beginning...

Friday, July 24, 2009

Attachment Parenting, my ass.

I'm all hopped up on Dunkin', folks...what is it about humidity and the reek of steaming asphalt that makes me crave giant doses of iced french vanilla with half and half and two Splendas? And of course I get an immediate brain freeze/artificial-sweetener-tumor-induced headache, but it's so, so worth it.

So Lil and I had her yearly dental check up this morning, and I sat there slack jawed and drooling with shock while the sweet, gentle-voiced dentist went over her x-rays and told me basically that my kid's teeth are rotting out of her head.

She's five.

And we're basically vegetarian. And I keep sugar to a real minimum. Yeah, she likes gum, but we both chew orbit pink, which, though packed with ingredients I can't pronounce that produce golf ball-sized nodules in lab rats, doesn't contain any actual sugar.

And I'm good about dental hygiene. I am. I make sure Lily brushes her teeth with the goddamned American-Dental-Association-recommended motorized toothbrush in the shape of a bloated Cinderella at least two times a day (ok, at least once, but we really try for two).

So, what the hell's going on here?

So I gave it some thought, and I think I figured out the likely culprit: breastfeeding.

Sonofabitch. I'd heard stories about the sugar in breast milk affecting baby teeth if little'uns were permitted to nurse on-demand all night long for long stretches. And I spent two straight years in a state of of sleep-deprived, borderline psychosis because my kid loved to nurse, and I wanted a happy and healthy kid who was securely attached to her mama. I went to La Leche League meetings and am a huge proponent of breastmilk being the healthiest way to nourish babies and toddlers. I even went to the nurse-in they had in front of the ABC building a few years ago, when that C-U-Next-Tuesday Elizabich Hasselblech said she wasn't going to nurse her baby and Barbara Walters nodded, saying, "I get so uncomfowtable when I see a mothew nuwsing in pubwic!"
I sat on the sidewalk in midtown, amidst all my crunchy momrades (I just made that up! Get it?) and yanked my feedbags out of my dress to make a stand that nourishing a hungry baby in public is not offensive or disgusting!!!

And yet...here I am in cavity city.

I wouldn't have traded Lily's upbringing for anything, and I definitely agree with a lot of the principles of attachment parenting. Lily rode all over NYC in a sling and/or backpack from the time she was born, slept next to me, was permitted unrestricted access to my all-night titty bar for years. Her babyhood was happy and the connection we share is probably very much due to the bonding we did during her infancy.

But damn. Is Dr. Sears gonna pay my dental bill?

I think not.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

It seemed perfectly rational at the time.

I was catching up on List of the Day's blog, and I came across this photo.



Now, clearly this pic was photoshopped for the purpose of eliciting a giggle, but for me, it conjured some heavy, stashed-in-the-attic sense memories of an irrational phobia I used to have, and it was positively chilling for me. Positively chilling.

I used to be afraid of swimming in my pool as a kid and being chased by a great white shark while I did laps. No, seriously. My hyperactive kid-imagination actually convinced me that it was possible for a helicopter to fly over the pool overnight and 'drop in' a great white shark (why? hell if I know), which would then sit at the murky pool bottom, hiding and waiting for me to dive in for my morning swim.
This thought paralyzed me for months, and eventually I would only go swimming if someone else was there too, say, like my little sister. Because that meant the shark would get her first, and that was more than okay by me.

Of course, my fear of great whites came from the movie "Jaws". I mean, I wasn't allowed to see it, but I clearly remember being freaked out by the movie poster and the cover of the book, which my mom had, with the naked girl cruising along the surface of the water at dusk while a monstrous, mountain-sized shark lurked just below, ready to chomp her in half with its giant, knifelike teeth.

Thinking back, I realize that most of the illogical, weird kid-fears I had were spawned from movies I wasn't allowed to see but somehow either managed to watch or find out enough about to scare the crap out of myself. Hell, some of those movies I probably shouldn't even be watching now.

For example, When I was 9 I was staying over at a friend's house, whose mother was way Jesusy and thought somehow it might be appropriate to allow two little girls to watch "The Excorcist" (edited for TV, but still). This was, I can only assume, the mom's way of warning us of what might happen should we fail to meet the standards expected of good Christ-loving children(luckily, she never knew about how we used to practice kissing in her daughter's room, or about the raunchy scenarios we acted out with our barbies). After the movie, I asked the woman if kids could actually get possessed by the devil, and she said, very solemnly, "Well. I really, really hope not."


Also, though I never watched "Silent Night, Deadly Night", I think I must've seen it at the video store, and the image of the guy in the Santa suit holding the knife, and the blood all over the snow, had me convinced me that my whole family was going to be brutally slaughtered while coming home on Christmas Eve. I remember praying in the car all the way home from church that we would be spared this horrible butchery, because the idea of never getting to open my toys the next morning was practically too much for me to stomach.

I was also constantly convinced that my loyal black lab had rabies. Every time the temperature topped 80 degrees and she started panting in the back yard, I'd yelp for my mom to come and check to see if she was foaming at the mouth.
Thanks, Stephen King.


So, needless to say, I won't be showing Lily any frightening movies any time soon. If she has half the imagination I had at her age (and I suspect it's even wilder), I'll be opening a door to years and years of mental torture, and I'm probably doing that well enough on my own without any help from scary movies.

So tell me, guys, what irrational fear did YOU have as a kid???

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

This is why I suck

I think I'm just too hippy-dippy and free-spiritish (read: lazy as fuck) to keep to a schedule of posting a photo a day.

BUT. This project has made me realize that I need to pay more attention to this blog. And I intend to. So sometimes I'll post silly pictures, sometimes I'll write stuff. And when I don't feel like it, well, I just won't. You can always find me spouting off bullshit on Twitter and Facebook if you're really interested. Which...well, let's just leave that one open-ended.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you, Ferrtileblog. You're like my neglected little sister who was fun to play with when no kids my age were around, but who got thoughtlessly tossed aside like a stinky sock when the cool older chick down the block came to play Charlie's Angels With No Shirts On in my backyard. Always dependable. Always present and ready for a game of barbies. I will try not to take you for granted as much.

I've been having crazy dreams lately. Mostly I think because I'm preparing for a big move from the city in which I've dwelled for the last 9 years -- from the apartment my daughter was born in, from my friends and family and favorite liquor store -- and planning to defect to the hothouse tropics of Southern Suburbia. I'm all Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and mint juleps and afternoon siestas like Scarlett O'Hara. More on this topic to come, of course, as plans unfold.

Mostly my nightly sleeps have been fraught with terrifying scenarios where I am lost in a mall/subway station/high school and late for something. Or I'm about to take a final exam in a subject I've never studied. Or go on stage to star in a play I've never rehearsed. I fake it fairly well, but basically I can't fool anyone and feel as transparent as saran wrap.

I've had enough therapy to understand that these dreams are simply my anxiety over making a big change, working itself out in my subconscious.

They still suck, though, and make me wake up feeling all bloaty and sweat-filled.

More later, bloggers. I loves ya.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Tattoos

It occurred to me that I'm gonna have a hell of a time dissuading my daughter once she decides she wants to decorate herself in permanent body art. Because I'm all hardcore and shiz.

Like Mama...





Like daughter.