Yucky Salad with Bones

November 29

n'kay, I said I wasn't gonna post 'til Friday, but I didn't actually write this so what I meant was, I won't actually write anything 'til then. Anyway this is from Billy, who loves music even more than he loves sports and is so consistently the funniest person on the planet, he actually kind of pisses me off:

In honor of Katie's insatiable list loving, I'm going to do a list everyday the rest of the year. I googled "best albums of 2005" last night and looked over tons of lists from ridiculous publications like "Slate" "Sounder" "Skate or Die"... horrible. Tons of lists from people I imagine to look like Mary Jeanne's date at Andy and Vi's wedding, listing albums they think will make them look cool. But they're not trying to look cool because that's against their whole way of life. I'm sorry, but when your 3rd best album of 2005 is only available in the lower regions of Spain (don't get the English version-- that's lame), your list sucks. Certainly not as top heavy as 2004, which had six A+ albums (Roger Clyne, Green Day, U2, The Killers, The Strokes and Carbon Leaf)

Here's my top 20 Albums of 2005: 20. Kelly Clarkson, "Breakaway"-- just thought I'd cut to the chase and get rid of any credibility I might have. Can you imagine any real list putting this on there? And plus I don't like Fiona Apple! The Shame! She's got a great voice and Steve Carrell yelled out her name while getting waxed. Best songs: Breakaway, Since U Been Gone, Behind These Hazel Eyes, Because of You ("hey, let's title it since U been gone, instead of You--- so street, so hip!) So not. Everyone can stop that now. I Would Die 4 You got away with it, everyone since NO.

19. Black Eyed Peas, "Monkey Business"-- Fergie is not that hot by the way. No way she deserves Josh Duhamel or whatever his name is. Best songs: Don't Phunk With My Heart, Pump It, Don't Lie, My Humps (contains the most ridiculous line in a song this year, when the guy sings to Fergie, "what you gonna do with all that breasts, all that breasts up in that shirt?" and she sings back, "I'm gonna tease you with my juice... my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps" wha? conjures Jason Bateman's genius line in Dodgeball after the Average Joe's beat the Germans in their first match and Gary Cole says, "what a shocker" and Bateman follows with, "I feel shocked!"

18. The Eels, "Blinking Lights and Other Revelations"-- Double album in the manner of the late 70's. Slight attempt to gain back some street cred by me after number 20 and the fact that once again I'm not going to include those plucky brits, Franz Ferdinand. Best songs: Railroad Man, A Magic World, Hey Man (Now You're Really Living)

17. Rob Thomas, "Something To Be"-- Aaaaand we give all the street cred right back. I was sitting in Dave's backyard this summer at a barbeque and I was talking music with this guy who knew a lot about it-- find out 15 minutes into talking to him that he's the drummer for Matchbox Twenty. Best Songs: Ever The Same, Something To Be, This Is How A Heart Breaks, Lonely No More

16. Coldplay, "X & Y"-- Certainly didn't live up to it's pre-release hype. Kind of a good thing as a lot of that hype said, "taking over the mantle from Radiohead." Radiohead has had 3 good songs, that's it. Plus Gwyneth sucks. Best songs: Speed Of Sound, Till Kingdom Come, Fix You, What If

15. Shout Out Louds, "Howl Howl Gaff Gaff"-- My favorite album cover of the year. And I love their sound. "MOOOOOOM..... THE MEATLOAF!!!!..... FUCK!!!" Best songs: The Comeback, Very Loud, 100 Degrees

14. Bryan Adams, "Room Service"-- And there goes my last shred of dignity. The guy who mutilated his career beyond repair turns out another great album, who would have ever thunk it? Earth: "Bryan, you're the poor man's John Mellencamp, how are you gonna fix that?" Bryan: "I'm gonna sing gay movie ballads, have 568 face peels, get hair like Barbie and dress like a matador!" Earth: "I feel shocked! ummm... yuck. You know, being the poor man's Mellencamp ain't that bad" Best songs: East Side Story, This Side of Paradise, She's A Little Too Good For Me, Open Road

13. O.A.R., "Stories of a Stranger"-- Great band. Another great album. Cult following as a live band, they put on a great show, it just sucked they played the B stage at the same time Counting Crows was on the A stage at Basillica in '04. Best songs: Love And Memories, Wonderful Day, The Stranger

12. Gwen Stefani, "Love Angel Music Baby"-- Her first solo album channels Madonna back before Madonna didn't suck ass.
Best songs: Cool, Rich Girl, What You Waiting For, The Real Thing, Hollaback Girl

11. Hot Hot Heat, "Elevator"-- Manic sound. Fast and Furious with a beat you can move to. Fun. If I ever did Ecstasy (which I won't because I have Len Bias syndrome-- I'm convinced I'd take a drug and fall over, immediately dead) I'd listen to this album. Best songs: Goodnight Goodnight, Middle of Nowhere, Jingle Jangle, Island of The Honest Man, Pickin It Up

10. The White Stripes, "Get Behind Me Satan"-- Still creep me out a bit, but their catalogue of good tunes keeps swelling. I give the guy credit though, for being weird in a cool, rock n' roll kind of way. Groovy baby. JP would totally tell Jack White that he had Road To Ruin. Best songs: Forever For Her, The Denial Twist, My Doorbell, Blue Orchid

9. The Fray, "How To Save A Life"-- My favorite debut album of the year. Nothing really different, just great songs. Best songs: How To Save A Life, Over My Head, She Is, Look After You

8. The Ravoenettes, "Pretty In Black"-- Mix 50's, 60, 70's and 80's music all together. Surf music. Rock Music. Cool. Best songs: Seductress of Burns, Love In A Trashcan, Uncertain Times

7. David Gray, "Slow Motion"-- Crooner man. Cool British lilt to all his songs. (whatever the hell that means) His best album yet. Best songs: The One I Love, Now and Always, Alibi, Ain't No Love

6. Garbage, "Bleed Like Me"-- Best album yet from these Wisconsinites and their kick ass lead singer from girls-who-rock land. Best songs: Run Baby Run, Bleed Like Me, Bad Boyfriend, Why Do You Love Me?

5. Mike Doughty, "Haughty Molodie"-- Former lead man from indie faves Soul Coughing, turns out a phenomenal solo disc. Best songs: Looking At The World From The Bottom Of A Well, Tremendous Brunettes, I Hear The Bells, Busting Up a Starbucks

4. The Wallflowers, "Rebel, Sweetheart"-- "just when I think you're a complete loser, you go and do something to TOTALLY redeem yourself!!!!" (from Dumb and Dumber)-- never easy to be the offspring of a legend, but he's piling up the songs. This album got better every time I listened to it. Might be better than their first one. Best songs: God Says Nothing Back, Days of Wonder, Here He Comes, Beautiful Side of Somewhere

3. My Morning Jacket, "Z"-- I'm predicting a lot of the hipster mags give this top album of the year. Great stuff. They channel ELO, Pink Floyd and Allman Bros. Best songs: Gideon, What A Wonderful Man, Wordless Chorus, It Beats 4 U (oye)

2. Ben Folds, "Songs For Silverman"-- THE piano player/singer of a generation. If he looked like Harry Connick he'd be one of the biggest stars on earth. Great piano, great voice, great stories... any questions? Best songs: Jesusland, Gracie, Landed, Give Judy My Notice

1. Better Than Ezra, "Before The Robots"-- As opposed to most years, this was an easy choice for me. Most of my favorite bands ever are from the early 90's-- check. Best live act I saw this year-- check. From New Orleans, a lot of their stuff ruined by Katrina-- check. Their number of great songs is reaching Hall of Fame numbers. Best songs: A Lifetime, Burned, Breathless, Our Finest Year, American Dream, Juicy

November 28 '05

I'M IN A FOUL MOOD THIS MORNING.

Foul, foul mood.

First of all, my husband just told me I'm very, very closely related to an ape. He said this after staring long and hard at my admittedly spindley and ugly toes, but still, why he'd say that to me on a morning when I'm already seeing red is anyone's guess. In response I say this: hey bub, look who's calling the kettle black. The biggest difference between you and the primate world is I'm assuming apes brush their teeth once in a while.

But that's not why I'm mad. I'm mad because last night in a fit of "Time to tackle that ol' cupboard full of unopened mail!" I opened my flibbity flargitty property tax bill. I've been spitting nails ever since and I slept not a wink. Not only is it DOUBLE what it was when we moved into this dump 4 years ago, they added a bitchy little note telling me "Don't bother trying to call us because it's too late. Up yours. Love, Hennepin County."

AUGGGH! My gas bill is throught the roof, my car gets 1 mile to the gallon and my property taxes are higher than my actual income. Merry Christmas, kids! This year you get one apple to share!

Yeah I know, everyone's in the same boat but that's cold comfort when I'm MAD MAD MAD.

Mike, who is not mad, by the way, he is perfectly willing to bend over and take it in the tailpipe from the man, is now telling me I've turned into my dad. Me and my plight amuse him, apparently. To him I say this: I haven't turned into my dad, I've always been my dad and maybe you would've noticed that if you weren't so busy staring at my feet and if a person is going to turn into someone else my dad is a pretty good choice. And anyway maybe you should just go join a hippie commune, and furthermore another thing I have in common with my dad is we both think you're a ---

OK not really. My anger is misdirected, I know. Mike is just trying to calm me down. He knows when to tune me out, which is pretty much always except from Tuesdays between 3:45 and 4:10. (a.m.).

I had lots of other things to talk about today and I can't remember any of them.

The moral of this story is life is much happier when you leave your mail unopened.

November something

Day two of my tryptophan hangover...

Actually that's not even true; there wasn't enough turkey to go around this year. As I said a few days back, Mike's sister brought it and it was YUGE, yuuuuuuuuuuge I tell you, but we ate that puppy down to the tin-foil and made after dinner drinks with the juice. I'm not sure Tim, Patty's husband and the official carver, even got any. But there was familial hilarity to spare, and isn't that what it's all about?

At one point Mike's 3-year-old nephew was spinning wildly through the living room until he was stopped by a table corner to the temple, which laid him out flat. He didn't cry or anything, 3-year-olds are no doubt so used to table corners popping up out of nowhere to ruin their good time that he just waited for his brain to stop vibrating before hopping up and starting over.

Much cheap wine was consumed, of course, which may or may not have had something to do with Mike's sister getting into a wrestling match with her teenaged son in the kitchen, resulting in a picture frame flying off the wall and sending glass shards shooting over the buffet like shrapnel.

By that point, we'd all moved on to whiskey so nobody cared, and no one got hurt by ingesting powdered glass. It's amazing what the human body can digest and what drunkards are willing to eat.

The whole McCollow clan cleared outta here by 6:30, so we loaded the kiddies up and went over to my mom and dad's, who typically have a late Thanksgiving dinner. My mother's reasoning is that she prepared a noon meal once, and by sunset everyone was hungry again and expected her to cook. Again.

Anyoots, they were just sitting down to eat when we showed up, and Molly said to me, "Mommy, can I have a real dinner in the night-time now?" (awwww, ain't that cute? I know, just makes you want to wretch, dudn't it...but this is my blog so there.)

My uncle was in tiptop form, and yes, that would be the same one who can be seen staring into my windows on any given evening with a pair of binoculars. It's far too long a story to go into at this point, but perhaps someday I'll write a Lifetime movie about it.

He always brings his own libations to family functions; he mixes up a pitcher of Manhattans at home and carries it around in whatever empty container he had on hand. Sometimes it's in an old ketchup bottle, sometimes a peanut butter jar, an old Folgers can, whatever. (You know, I said 'empty container', but come to think of it they might not even be...who knows?) God Love him, you know? What would a holiday be without a whiskey-soaked uncle with wandering hands? Ate again, drank again, laughed and laughed. God Bless America.

So we woke up yesterday morning to beautiful fluffy winter wonderland snow. Fabulous. Put a song in my heart and a spring in my step. The kids and I made cookies and played outside and I made a big pot of minestrone, then we called my brother and made plans to take all of our kids downtown to the Marshall Field's Cinderella display. They came over and we were so busy chatting and laughing we didn't end up leaving the house until 6:30 pm, but it was a simply gorgeous night, very Christmassy.

We decided to take the new, fancy light-rail, I mean why drive the 3 miles to downtown and try to park a car for a few bucks when you could go 10 miles out of your way to the train stop and spend a buck fifty a head, especially when there are 14 of you? But we were on an adventure and we weren’t about to let a silly thing like logic get in the way.

So we parked at the Cardinal Bar, which as I said, was much farther from home than downtown, caught the train from there to Nicollet Mall and walked to Marshall Field's, where the line (surprise!) to see Cinderella stretched all the way down to the sixth floor...when we were told the wait just to get to the eighth floor was an hour and a half, we decided to bag it and took the kiddies out into the wintry night in search of food. We ended up at O’Donovan’s, a great Irish pub where our children were most welcome. The bartender even came over to chat with us in his sexy brogue and the kids danced and we drank Guinness and laughed and laughed and wondered what kind of parents took their children on a pub crawl instead of Cinderella?

Wandered back to the Nicollet mall train stop at about 9:30, hopped on and Mike hit the panic button when he saw a train cop checking tickets, not realizing they ones we bought earlier were still good. He hustled us all back off again at the next stop...that is, everyone but Heidi and Tucker, who we figured out too late were still aboard. It was actually sort of romantic, watching them be helplessly whisked away in the night and wondering if we'd ever see them again. The next train was super crowded and to make matters worse, mere seconds after we boarded, all the young hooligans from the football game at the Metrodome crowded on.

Honestly, Molly and Vince were almost crushed, we barely had time to scoop them up, and Meg was badly frightened when she got caught in a wave of people trying to get out. It was insane how little folks cared that they were trampling our 4-year-olds underfoot. All's well that ends well, however, Heidi and Tucker were waiting for us back at the Cardinal bar and Molly and Vince sustained only minor scratches on their little faces.

We may not have seen Cinderella, but we taught our kids important life lessons like 'Making Friends With the Bartender=Free Guinness' and 'Don't Expect People to Not Stomp On You Just Because You're Cute'. Plus, almost being crushed to death by smelly revelers was a poignant illustration of what life in Eastern Europe is like, and what better time for our youngsters to appreciate that fact than on Thanksgiving weekend?

Lastly, we saw Rent on opening night. It's awful, I fully admit it was awful, and I loved it anyway. If you can put aside for a moment that yes, it's about a bunch of losers who equate being aimless slackers to some sort of artsy heroism, put aside that everyone in the whole damn show has AIDS through no fault of their own, mind you, I mean why shouldn't they share dirty needles and have unprotected gay sex, they're artists dammit, why must you be so judgmental, you bourgeois hick?! If you can put all that and the fact that Chris Columbus simply couldn't have been a worse choice for director aside, the music is so very exhilarating, you just might enjoy yourself.

Or maybe just go get the soundtrack.

November 20 '05

Oh, whoops, I meant this Monday, not last Monday. And anyway it's Sunday and anyway I'm sorry.

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The writer is fully aware that despite wanting desperately to believe she has an audience of millions who are unreasonably happy with the fact she has finally posted something after a long absence, this is most likely not the case. She is aware that whoever is reading this was probably simply trying to google a salad recipe and is now grumpily instructing her to suck an egg, She is sorry for the inconvenience, and hopes you will play along. Also, now that it's the holiday season and she is busier than Charlie Sheen in a cathouse, she will be posting new blogs on just Mondays and Fridays.

*********************

Anyway, I was really working on something, an art project in fact, and it was so much fun it inspired me to do more. The kids were shocked to come home from school and find me drawing; they all gathered 'round and watched. I mean I literally have done next to nothing since they were all born, so for them, it's like finding out I have a secret identity.

Finbar said to me, "Mom...you could draw comic books."

Then that night when we were done with our prayers he added "and please let mommy keep drawing." I hope it was because he liked what I did and not just that he thinks I need to start pulling my weight around here.

So that took a few days, and then I got a little side- tracked with...uh....school or something...ok, that's not entirely true...well you see the thing is, I....well...I went and rented the first season of Nip/Tuck.

I believe it was last Sunday night, we put the babes to bed and popped in episode one. 50 minutes later we were both sitting in stunned silence, feeling confused, a little thrilled and more than a little violated.

"What in the world," Mike finally said. "That was completely ridiculous."

(pause)

Me: "Wanna watch another one?"

We didn't turn it off until 1 am. Dragged ourselves out of bed the next day, got the kidlets off to school, went home and watched three more episodes. In the middle of the day, in the dark, in our pajamas. (this is part of the blessing/curse of self-employment.)

"What's happening to us," we stage-whispered, "This is awful. We must stop. We must take showers and rejoin society."

We made it through the rest of the day like normal people, put on clothes and cooked dinner and helped with homework and all that, but we were a bit short with each other, contaminated with the knowledge of how badly the other was jonesing for another dose of Nip/Tuck and hating ourselves for it.

Mike had to work that night.

I tried. I really did try not to watch any of it without him but IS IT MY FAULT JULIAN MCMAHON LOOKS THE WAY HE DOES OR THAT HE SPENDS 90% OF THE SHOW SHIRTLESS? THE MAN COULD TURN CHASTITY BONO STRAIGHT. AAAAAAAUUUGHHHH! (that's me wailing and gnashing my teeth.)

He caught me of course, walked right in on me mid-dash-to-turn-it-off...

"How could you," he spat, the hurt and contempt rolling off him in hot waves.

"I'm sorry," I cried, "Have mercy...you know I've never been that strong...baby forgive me..."

He said nothing, just sat down and quietly started the episode over. I had to sit though the whole thing again, twitching and moaning softly, a light sweat springing up on my brow. Every time I started blurting out what was about to happen I was silenced by my husband's disgusted glare. And you know what? I didn't even care, at that moment I would've gladly traded his lifelong respect to find out what had happend to Dr. Troy.

The next three days were a blur. We never made it to bed before two a.m, and we rose before the sun to watch more before the children got up. Time spent not watching was filled by wordlessly slodging through our respective responsibilites; any exchanges we did have were pure snark and our personal hygiene went largely ignored. I was invited to a party at the neighbor's house Wednesday night and I called Mike three times in two hours to make sure he wasn't cheating. I'd never felt so low, yet I was completely helpless to stop.

Thursday night we watched the last disc of season two. The relief was almost tangible; I'm not exaggerating when I say I doubt it was unlike the joy the apostles felt when they discovered the stone was rolled away and the tomb empty. I literally skipped through the morning; made muffins, cleaned the house, tried to figure out how I would make up my lost week to my children...so I got on the computer, intent on emailing my loved ones to let them know I was still alive, but instead I innocently googled my ( I thought) conquered addiction, imagining I had the strength to only spend but a moment looking at publicity shots of ol' Jules.

Instead I made a horrifying discovery.

(Mike enters)

"Kate...what's wrong...Katie? Tell me what's wrong," he said, the panic rising in his voice. He rushed across the kitchen to where I was hunched over the laptop, head in my hands.

"I can't...I can't..."

"What is it?" He asked again.

"Season two...it isn't over...there are four more episodes. We're not done."

The color drained from his face as his arm went limp at his side, sending his copy of S.I. fluttering to the ground.

"Dear God," he muttered.

But it's over now, really it is. It's over and we spent all day today turning from Sid and Nancy back into Katie and Mike. I'm not saying I won't watch any of season three, currently playing of FX and halfway done, I feel if I promise to wait until that comes out on dvd I'll just be setting myself up for failure. I'm just saying I'm not going to watch any today, that's all.

One day at a time.

November 8 '05

Hi folks...gonna be gone for a while, gotta work on some other stuff. See you here next Monday.

November 7 '05

Season finale of Extras last night. My feelings regarding this swing wildly from loving Ricky Gervais so much I want to fly across the pond and dedicate the next year of my life to stalking him to being completely angry at him for being such a lazy butthole and only putting out six episodes.

Argg! It's painful, painful to me to know I have to wait another year for the next batch. What is with the damn BBC and their abominably short television seasons?? Who do they think they are, anyway?

(british accent) "Oooo, we're British! We don't need to waste our time making more episodes of your favorite show because we're sooo much smarter than you silly Americans! We eat scones with clotted cream and call soccer football!"

I'm sorryI'msorryI'MSORRYI'MSORRY. Please don't be mad at me Ricky COME BACK.

When the closing credits rolled last night I felt like a vampire caught partying at sunrise. I'm going to go comfort myself with a large hunk of leftover lasagna.

About twenty minutes later:

Yaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhmousemousemousemousemousemouse!!!!!!!!!!!

A flibbity flargin mouse just ran by. Ballsy little bitch ran right over the magazines piled at my feet and took off under the couch. Moved the couch, smacked around the floorboards with a broom, sayonara, it's gone, there is no Markensen. Ick.

We were first made aware of our critter infestation three nights ago while watching Rome, when this very same thing happened. Set out a bunch of traps and even got one of those ridiculous sonic mouse beeper deals that supposedly emits a high-pitched squeal that only vermin can hear, magically resulting in me being out 39.99! Useless piece of garbage...and what about the traps? That mouse tonight, I swear it had peanut butter on it's face.

Worst mouse experience I ever had occurred at the Dairy Queen house. (Little dumpy house we lived in behind Dairy Queen. Loved living there, we were two feet from Peanut Buster Parfaits and across the street from Blockbuster. Too great, but it was super duper small and we got robbed with alarming regularity. And we had mice.) Anyway, I was down in the basement doing laundry, and I grabbed up a wad of dirties to shove into the washer. A mouse was in the wad and I squeezed it hard. And as it squeeled, my body's reaction was to squeeze totally, involuntarily harder for a beat and then I whipped it against the wall. I swear I used salad tongs to do laundry for two years, until we moved to Poland and wildlife indoors was so commonplace I was soon stomping on giant spiders in bare feet without blinking twice. But folks, that was a long time ago, and I'm no longer immune to being freaked out at a mouse scampering across my floor like it owns the place.

November 3 '05

I got nuthin'. All my strength is going towards trying not to ransack the children's candy bags. Last year every morning for a week after Halloween, they'd come downstairs all distressed, whining about how in the night while they peacefully slept all their Kitkats disappeared.

I am SO PSYCHED for "Rent" to open, OH MY REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER STIX HOW I LOVE THAT SOUNDTRACK.

Tomorrow I'll write something worth reading. I mean to me.

November 1 '05

"Sleigh bells ring...are you listenin'? In the lane....snow is glistenin'..."

What? Everyone else is rushing the season, why not me? You know darn well if you don't buy your Christmas lights within the next two weeks you'll be crud outta luck and forced to once again decorate your tree with

packing peanuts. While we're on the subject, and by that I mean the subject of shopping with a 4-year- old girl who hasn't slept a full night in a week and has been subsisting on a diet of candy and frosting for two days, I would like to say something to every old codger in the world who feels compelled to harrass me while she pitches yet another fit in hte cleaning supplies aisle adn I try really, really hard to remember I love her:

SHUT THE F*** UP.

I know she's tired, but we're out of toilet paper. I'm going straight home to put her to bed and I don't care to hear your pearls of wisdom.

I'm sorry. Here it is the Feast of All Saints and I go and blow up like ...like....I was trying to think of some great comparison but I can't and I suppose it serves me right, I'm lucky I wasn't smote dead away after that outburst on this holy day. And anyway, it's not your fault. I'm sure you're lovely, just trying to help and all that. But honestly, the very, very best thing you can do if indeed your goal is to help me is to pretend you don't notice us. Do that, and we can get out of Walgreens and get home to a nap much, much faster.

Meg is practicing piano and Finny is doing his homework. I'm watching Entertainment Tonight...some guy is bawling about how great Princess Di was and her legacy and blah blah blah. Jiminy, is it 1998 already?? I mean come on, people! Why does anyone still care about a vacuous blonde of questionable personal integrity and an eating disor...uh...mmm....forget it.

Halloween was specatcular, the 'rents came over, as did a few siblings and their various offspring. We bonfired and ate soup and the babes tricked and treated 'til they couldn't walk another step, it was simply grand. And all that stuff I said about rushing the season, well I'm agin it. I actually think there should be a law that no one is allowed to mention Christmas until December.