b l o g o r e l l i

I Have 10 Minutes, but Only if Murf Has a Martini

According to the New Wifey Manual, I should...

"Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dustcloth over the tables."

Are The Boys going to school now? The little ones do grow up so fast. 

Anyway, I *have* found that keeping up with clutter is better than digging out from it, and felt excited to see some Hype (not from Brooklyn!) claiming that things around the homestead could stay tidy with just 10 minutes of cleaning a day. My favorite suggestions:

"Grab a laundry basket, a large trash bag and some small trash bags. Go from room to room, emptying the trash cans and putting the stuff that doesn’t belong in that room into the laundry basket, said Amy Clark, a home management expert for the Kenmore Make-it-Simple Team. Replace the trash bags as you empty the trash." (BLOGORELLI NOTE: if you run out of time, would anyone really know if a gal just chucked that basket in a closet until the next 10 minute cleaning period?)

"Do a surface wipe. Take some disinfectant wipes or some cleanser and paper towels and clean all the counters and the sinks in the kitchen and the bathrooms that get used the most often...”

Real Simple has a version of the quick clean which they claim takes 19 minutes and seems more comprehensive, but only 2 minutes on the bathroom? I call foul.

Officially Sexy: Le Accordian

Thank you, Joan from Mad Men -- "C'est magnifique!"

In the Eye of the Beholder

Why do I suddenly have a fascination with "Ugliest Dog" contests? Blame are the photographs, like this photo essay from Time Magazine, but also have some my odd obsession with the finding attractive of that which is generally regarded as unseemly.

Mostly, though, I just love the quotes:

About Sam (RIP,) who won Ugliest Dog Sonoma-Marin Fair Contest three years running:

"The tiny dog has no hair, if you don't count the yellowish-white tuft erupting from his head. His wrinkled brown skin is covered with splotches, a line of warts marches down his snout, his blind eyes are an alien, milky white and a fleshy flap of skin hangs from his withered neck. And then there's the Austin Powers teeth that jut at odd angles from his mouth.

[says] proud owner, Susie Lockheed, of Santa Barbara...

'People are always horrified when I kiss him. He may turn into a prince yet. He's definitely a toad," she said. "I always thought he'd be great on greeting cards or on a commercial for Rogaine.'"

 

But seriously, why do their tongues stick out?!? Isn't being hairless yet having a cowlick a hard enough lot in life?

These two look like that crazy hyena from The Lion King.

From "The Internet": 

There are two types of Chinese Crested - hairless and powder puff. Along with the hairless gene comes the gene for weak dentition - which can include missing teeth. The tongue starts to hang out when their teeth fall out. Dogs don't have lips like we do, so the teeth hold the tongue in. Proper dental care can help, but sometimes there's nothing you can do.

So there you go, another fascinating look into how I pass my time on the laptop while continuing to procrastinate on designing our wedding invitations.

How I feel these days with ALL THE RAIN (STOP RAINING!), as expressed by the 2009 Ugliest Dog winner, Pabst.

Manwich

I am a queen of procrastination, especially when something big is on the horizon. Even though The Prof and I are less than three months away from our wedding, I decided that my time would best be spent searching online for a dog to adopt and love in our new apartment. Two weeks ago, I found him:

The dog's name is Manny, but because of some Red Sox prejudice due to a certain player, I proposed that we call him MANWICH. Oh, what a wonderful weekend I spent inside my head, thinking about "Mr. Man" and how he and BKP Sophia's fur complemented the other's so perfectly, and how cute would matching sweaters be for all of us?

Then, just as suddenly as the whole thing began, I got a little tipsy at a picnic, forgot to call MSPCA Methuen, and the next time I checked, Manwich had been adopted. I'm happy to know that he's in a great new home (even if said home may not perhaps understand the necessity of clothing for pets.)

Luckily, I can refocus my puppy love on Tara + Hal's new guy:

THOR!!!!

(I know that you're not coming home until August, Thor, but Auntie Blogorelli is gonna squeeze you good when we meet, you lovable fluffy canine cupcake.)

Bing.

Today, rain poured down in The Bean during all eight of my work hours. As I was walking to the gym, I saw someone jumping a "curb puddle" (something any pedestrian in Boston knows well, a phenomenon that takes place when the storm drains overflow, creating a massive yet shallow-looking puddle right off the curb's side) and thought of the Ned Ryerson scene from the movie Groundhog Day:

Ned: Ned... Ryerson. "Needlenose Ned"? "Ned the Head"? C'mon, buddy. Case Western High. I did the whistling belly-button trick at the high school talent show? Bing. Ned Ryerson, got the shingles real bad senior year, almost didn't graduate? Bing, again. Ned Ryerson, I dated your sister Mary Pat a couple of times until you told me not to anymore? Well?

Phil: Ned Ryerson?
Ned: BING!
Phil: Bing.

My grey mood lifted slightly when I came home and discovered this little gem of a site. Now I can actually look forward to checking the forecast...

Appropriately enough, the torrential downpours also marked the beginning of my second official season as a Baseball Widow. Happy Opening Day, everyone!

In the coming months, I'll be mostly doing wedding planning while wearing earplugs to prevent hearing loss as The Prof screams "TAKE THAT, F*CKER!" many many times during televised games. I'll also have a lot more free time during the evenings -- call me, anyone with interesting plans who needs a plus one.

Only in OH-IO

This story speaks for itself. (And I'll put down a crisp $20 that Mr. Wygle was coming home from a bar in a basement.)

NEWARK, Ohio—Authorities in Ohio say a man has been charged with drunken driving after crashing his motorized bar stool. Police in Newark, 30 miles east of Columbus, say when they responded to a report of a crash with injuries on March 4, they found a man who had wrecked a bar stool powered by a deconstructed lawn mower.

Twenty-eight-year Kile Wygle was hospitalized for minor injuries. Police say he was charged with operating a vehicle while intoxicated after he told an officer at the hospital that he had consumed 15 beers. Wygle told police his motorized bar stool can go up to 38 mph.

So...should I not drive my typewritermobile after more than a two cocktails?

(thx to Cho for the link)

Pleurisy: Not So Bad

Benjamin Franklin, Karl Marx, and Rudolph Valentino, step aside -- pleurisy is no longer just Colonial/Victorian/Silent Movie Era chic. In fact, I found out last Thursday that I have The Pleur, "an inflammation of the pleura, which is the moist, double-layered membrane that surrounds the lungs and lines the rib cage." I know, I only get the sexiest afflictions.

Aside from knowing that I am suffering from a malady that sounds akin to something pirates contract on the high seas, I get to tell acquaintances, after my massive coughing fits, "Don't worry, I'm just working through my...pleurisy" and watch them slightly edge away in uncertainty. Just so everyone out there knows, The Pleur is not contagious, but is commonly treated by sleeping on the affected side and drinking strong alcoholic concoctions. Ok, I made that second part up, although being slightly drunky does help me to not notice that every breath hurts. Ow.

The pain is getting better, and my doctor said that the condition will eventually just heal itself. Apparently, the only treatment option is an anti-inflammatory (Aleve, etc,) even though I suggested that perhaps a reunion with my sweet, sweet Vic would better help me cope.

What's next, scruvy?

(illustration from WedMD)

Happy Trails, Old Boy

Last night, I did it: I sold Vinny the Volvo. After 10 happy years and many adventures, Mr. Vinchenzo will be motoring out his golden years (appropriately,) on the Cape with his new owners, a young sweet couple.

Even though Mark and I decided that selling Vinny and only having one car would be the most responsible path, making the move and actually signing over my old boy was hard. I cried after the new owners left. In a way, I feel like Vinny represented the last vestige of my quirky single days. He was also my only, actual "paid off" (by Dad-orelli) asset in the world. In some ways, I know that it seems silly to develop first-name-basis bonds with the inanimate objects of our everyday existence...but, to me, Vinny was a pal, a means of independent travel after too many Greyhound trips between Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, a big Swedish tank.

Teddy and Krissy -- be good to my Vinny!

Hair again

After spontaneously cutting my hair into its current bob last year, I've decided to grow the locks out  so the western Pennsylvanian beautician will have something to shellac onto itself, or perhaps to my veil?

Currently, the bob is between chin and shoulder level. By spring, I hope to have something more like:

Then, by the time wedding bells ring...

 

SOWA Style

Our last South End Open Market (Oct 5) was totally hoppin', mostly due to the Baked Fresh event, complete with bands and scads of college students. We hd a busy day in the booth and loved all of the great crowd energy. Plus, I made it into the "SOWA Style" photostream (see below)!

We only have one market day remaining: October 26, 2008, which is also the closing day of the SEOM and Market of the Living Dead. The day promises lots of fun costumes, a pumpkin carving contest...and perhaps some deep discounts to clean out the "cabinet" for winter, hmm?

Hope to see you on the 26th!

Some shots from Baked Fresh...

The booth, full of shoppers!

Wündercabinet table display (thx to A Classic Girl for all her help during the entire day; I couldn't have done it without ya!)

Shopgirl

Do these ladeez have crazy good style, or what?

Mark yer calendars for OCTOBER 26 -- the last market (for us, and in general.)