Everything I Like Causes Cancer

March 2000.
One week in Ireland.
Two girls.
Hostels and public transportation.
(At least until the strike.)










We made do, taking a daytrip to Blarney Castle and Cobh with a couple other hostelers, one of whom had a car.

There's really nothing I can add to this.

I fell in love with the town Cobh (pronounced "Cove") as soon as I laid eyes on it. It has the very interesting distinction of being the last port of call for the Titanic before it went into open water and also being where the Germans sunk the Lusitania, a passenger ship, in WWI. Together, the number one and number two most famous passenger ship disasters. Weird, no? The museums were fantastic.

I woke up this morning thinking it was Sunday and got all panicky about having to go back to work in 24 hours and then I realized it's only Saturday and I still have two days left to fuck around.  Wooo-hooo!  Although, in all honesty, as long as I get the tree and outside lights put away today, I think I will be ready to go back on Monday - "think" being the important word in that sentence.

Fifteen years ago today, December 31, 1994, I moved to St. Louis with my college boyfriend.  I had never lived in a metropolitan area before; the biggest town I had ever lived in had a population of 20,000.  This was a huge, emotional, pivotal move for me.

Isn't that weird?  That two such red-letter days in my life both involved relocation and happened on the exact day just years apart?  Eh.  Maybe it just means I get restless about the same time every year.

Today is also day seven of my 11-day vacation.  I had hit an excellent stride with the lounging and movie watching and general sloth on Sunday but late Monday I had to get off the couch and clean myself up for The Pale Divine Reunion Show, a major event for the local music scene.  Pale Divine was a local band in the 80's who maybe should have made it big but eventually broke up.  The guitarist, Richard Fortus, went on to play with the Psychedelic Furs and currently plays with Guns-N-Roses.

Having only lived here 15 years, I never saw Pale Divine live but over the years have become a close friend of the lead singer, Michael Schaerer.  At one point he was supplementing his music income as a real estate agent and helped a boyfriend of mine buy his first house.  The show was an incredible experience for me - especially since I knew how excited Michael was to be back on stage like that and the house sold out.

And then yesterday, slightly hung over from too much fun Monday night, I had a bloody mary at lunch with the gals.  Peabody and I spent the latter half of the afternoon walking at the Zoo.  The temperate day - 62 gorgeous, sunny degrees - was perfect for seeing all the animals.  Except for the giraffes, to Peabody's dismay.

This guy popped up out of the water unexpectedly, RIGHT THERE, less than 20 feet away.

I got so excited I stuttered.

Just so you know, we renamed hippos "aquatic running pigs" because that's what they are.  It was a good day that I topped off with an expensive steak at home with broccoli and carrots and a baked potato.  So far, necessary detoxing aside, this has been a stellar week.  And I still have four days.

As soon as I publish this post I am walking out the door and heading to the airport. You kids have fun this weekend but play nice. I don't want to come back to stories about what so-and-so did to whoozle. I am going away to relax and I don't want you to harsing my mellow the minute I get home, k?

This is my friend Johnny B.  You've probably seen him skulking around here lately, he's been commenting every now and then.  

Skylar says, "Come over!  We'll burn some Fatwood and drink a beer!"

I am surprised by the amount of interest garnered by my wonky left nipple yesterday. I shouldn't be, I do actually know you people, but still. Sheesh. I promise all of your questions will be answered soon. Patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, I'm going to finish my story about Chicago. Oh, come on! You better not be clicking away right now. I mean it. You want nipple? Yeah? Then finish this post. You can't have your pudding if you don't eat your meat, monkeys.

There's a creek, at the bottom of the hill behind the house, that runs all the way to the lake, so the bank was lined with paddle boats and kayaks and jet skis and boats. The kids had a ball playing in the water.


They recently built an addition that is a sharp, modern contrast to the warm lodginess of the house. The addition acts as both a work-out and music room. The guys went in there almost immediately after dinner and played and jammed until well after midnight.


John is sporting the latest in men's fashion, the plastic clam shell bra. I gave a pair to each of the guys and only John wore his. He's my favorite.


Here are Robin and Cindy, two of the neighbors. These gals are polar opposites, you can tell by just looking at them. Robin, wearing the blue sweatshirt, well, let's just say this was not her shining moment of the evening. When I first met her, an hour or so prior to this photo, she gave a good first impression, she seemed energetic and fun. And then the next time I saw her, pictured above, she was loudly trying to badger Cindy into going out on a boat with her. She was not a very good advocate for hershelf, conshiderinnnn her speesch annn all.

Cindy, a character in her own right, repeatedly refused and became more inventive each time. It was so funny (uncomfortable) to watch that I pulled up a chair and took in the show. I couldn't believe I hadn't even had to pay admisshhion.

Speaking of not paying admission for a great show, let's go back to Cindy for a minute. Super friendly gal. Funny, engaging, pleasant. So when she asked me if I wanted to take a tour of her house I was flattered to have been asked. I've since named this chapter in my life "The Cindysperience"; everyone should have one.

The house, a forty year old* A-frame, has lots of interesting features: a spiral staircase; a shower installed along one leg of the "A" such that no one can stand up in it; and outdoor laundry. You could tell Cindy was proud of the eccentricity of her home and was delighted that we were interested in its colorful stories.

One of those stories centered around a bat that had once gotten into the house. As she told the story she darted from one end of the living room to the other, hurriedly describing and reenacting the story, using different voices for each character. It was a scream. The best part was being there with Jeannie, a stoic woman jammed-packed with biting and hilarious sarcasm. I found myself edging farther and farther away from them so I could see the entire exchange - Cindy breathless and darting; Jeannie observing and biting her tongue. It was priceless.

Late, and I mean really late, John and I realized we had forgotten to do something. Something really important. Something we had looked forward to all day. Know what it was?

Yup, we burned another Christmas tree. Only this time we are 10x drunker and forget that the camera is on.

I had so, so, so much fun in Chicago. Like many of you, however, I thought I'd be in areas more urban than they actually turned out to be. That said, my expectations were based in pure speculation as I had never been as far north and west as I was. I wasn't expecting downtown or anything, I knew I was going to be in the suburbs, but everything was much more rural than I was expecting . . . and it was perfect. I needed to get away from it all and could not have asked for more perfect settings.

I went up to visit friends from college, people I have known for 15-20 years. I didn't attend college at the same time they did, as I am much younger, but I was introduced to them during various Homecoming weekends while I was still in school. For a long time Homecoming was the only time we got together. Many of them have come down here for one Mardi Gras or another, but it wasn't until last Homecoming that we decided to make the effort to plan other group events.

Laughlin picked me up at the airport on Friday at about 11:30 and we headed for his house. Laughlin is the guy you know who is a great storyteller but yet also knows every joke under the sun. His wife is a relatively new friend of mine, a woman I adore and admire. She and I have different shells but we're the same snail inside. Their kids, a boy, 15, and a girl, 11, are both bright and funny, polite and engaging. I really enjoyed both of them and am happy to finally know them.

The Biloz' joined us Friday night for the dinner that Laughlin and I spent all afternoon buying and preparing. I never knew that he liked or was interested in food and cooking but it became evident shortly after we started discussing the menu. He and I and his daughter, who I'm going to call Hannah after her favorite pop star, duh, went to the store while his wife took a shower. We were passed in the entrance to the store by a woman who said hi only to Hannah. I was surprised by his amused response until he explained that the woman who said hi is the town busybody, a regular Mrs. Kravitz, if you will, and he was certain that rumors of his apparent infidelity would soon be flying around the community. We immediately decided to mess with her and stayed very cosy throughout the store. Hannah would put her arms around me and ask me questions about produce every time we saw Kravitz.

When we got back out to the car I realized I forgot to get the lemonade so I went back into the store. Laughlin told me later that Kravitz was loading her groceries into her car when I walked away and that Hannah hollered, "Hey! Where's mom going? I hope she comes back soon because I'm hungry!" The kid is awesome. I'm still waiting to hear if the rumor mill has picked up the story yet.

He and I worked in perfect tandem all afternoon whipping up dinner. I made a caribbean-style ceviche and played sous chef to his superior talents. Everyone spent happy hour watching us work together and commenting making fun of us. He got mad at me for suggesting that we were like Rachel Ray and Mario Battale because he wanted to be Bobby Flay. Nerd. Everyone knows you want to be Paula Deen when you're playing kitchen. She gets to eat butter.

After dinner, we laughed over two boxes of old pictures and eventually wandered over to his neighbors' house. Laughlin had been excited all day about going to the bonfire at his neighbors'. He kept telling me that we were going to burn a Christmas tree and he was downright giddy about it, which I thought was odd. I just thought it meant that his neighbor was environmentally conscious and re-purposes Christmas trees as firewood. Ok. Cool. That's a nice thing. But nothing to get into a lather over, right?

I clearly had no idea what it meant at all. Have you ever seen this amazing phenomenon? Did you know about this? Because I did not. I had never heard of it and yet everyone I've asked about it since I got home has very casually said, "Oh yeah, that? We've always done that."

Well, I am here to tell you blase folks, you have never seen it done like Laughlin's neighbor does it, an inventive man who bears a striking resemblance to Todd O'Connor. In fact, let's call him Todd for the sake of ease. You see, look closely at that picture up there. Note how Todd made a frame for his trees. Note how his trees stand upright over the fire. They don't lay on their sides like a wounded camel, they stand and burn proud. Like this:

Dudes, seriously, I fucking stink. I'm not talking about some pansy-ass, girly glow. I stink. Construction worker on a hot sunny day stink. Ate garlic and ran a marathon stink. I'm raising my arms right now so you can smell me because I know you want to. Get in there! Stahn-ky!

For some reason I got a little funky this afternoon. It happens. Everyone around me says I'm crazy when I tell them I stink, but I can smell me and I stink.

Since getting home at about 6:30 I have: ridden 10-15 miles on my bike, trimmed and edged the yard, watered the plants and swept the sidewalks. Believe me now?

I have no idea why I've been pushing myself so hard lately but this has been the norm for a couple weeks. I get home about 6:30 and then ride my bike and work in the yard until it's too dark to be outside. It's 8:30 and I JUST put dinner in the oven. (Salmon. I've got a couple fresh, homegrown tomatoes to go with it. YUM!)

This week I've been trying to get all my weekend chores done during the week because I'm leaving Friday morning for a fun-filled, and most assuredly drunken, weekend in Chicago. I'm going back up to visit these idiots. You can read about my trip to see them at Christmas here and here. If you've only got one out-click in you today I recommend you try the second "here" link. The guy in the video is my retarded friend Zellmannnnnnn. You know, the one I told you about who does public relations work for a cycling company? Gals, he's a hottie . . . six four, rides bikes all.the.time, and not an ounce of body fat. Me-ow!

It should be a good time. If it isn't, someone's getting punched in the neck. I'm taking my laptop in the hope that I can get at least one of them to drunk blog.

Oh, don't get all excited. I'm not really going to The Hamptons and neither are you. As if. We’re just middle-middle class working stiffs who live on the south side of [insert your town name here]. Growing up lower-middle class taught me to appreciate the things that I have. It also taught me that I had to go to college so that I could have better things to appreciate.

My friend Amy* and I were emailing yesterday about how her Granny, who used to summer in Peabody, Massachusetts, pronounced the name of the town like "pee-be-DEE" and how funny it is when it's said that way. You should say it out loud right now. Who cares if your co-workers can hear you? Get them in on this, too. You can bill it to “Admin.” Make sure you get the emphasis on the end syllable. That’s what the all caps means, dummies.

Anyway, this got me to thinking about just how sublime it would be to be a person who summered somewhere. To live a life of wealth so abundant that every year you could afford to retire to your summer home, the only place on Earth where every day is mild and sunny. I dream of days spent lounging on the beach, a big straw hat shading my book . . . tennis on the lawn . . . cocktails at 4 . . . dinner at 8, casual or formal depending on my mood and guests.

Imagine it. If I were this fabulously wealthy I could bring you all out to the place for a weekend . . . Whiskeymarie would make pitcher after pitcher of delicious adult beverages . . . McGone would draw sketches to memorialize how beautiful and fabulous we were . . . Falwless and I would drink all the drinkies, smoke all the smokies, and rescue all the kitties . . . Kimchi Amy and Jeff would make cakes celebrating the fact that we were summering . . . Pistols At Dawn would deter other vacationers in the area from staying too long. . . Renaissance Woman would make a dock for the sailboat (note to self: consider bringing her handy uncle, also) . . . The Lady Who Doesn’t Lunch would make lunch . . . (wait, that doesn’t seem right, note to self: hire mid-day staff) . . . and Dr. Zibbs, well I guess Zibbsy would just keep us in stitches.

Everyone, all of you, everyone who comes here with your special talents and ways of entertaining . . . you'd all be there. It would be just as I dreamt it . . . and you were there, and you were there, and you were there, too!

In the meantime, I’ll be happy with the 10x6x3 blow-up pool I put up in the backyard. I figure there’s a street in town called Hampton Avenue so I’m well within my rights to refer to it as The Hamptons.

Are you available to join me in The Hamptons this weekend, lovey?

* Amy will henceforth be referred to as Peabody and I expect you to read/say it like pee-be-DEE. Remember, emphasis on the end. Say it out loud and punch your arms to the syllables if it helps you get the accent right.

I know! I know! Enough with the vacation posts already! I understand that my vacation probably isn't as exciting for you as it was for me, and you're likely tired of hearing me rave about it, but this one needs posted. First, because I have people to thank and second, because it was the best part of the trip.

Exactly one month ago I published this post about my upcoming trip and a sassy Irish beauty who blogs under the name Hello Ha Ha Narf had this to say about a boat tour she had recently taken in Cabo:

speaking of wonderful people, eduardo padilla and his awesome daughter laura run the best whale watching cruise around. their sunset cruise is spectacular as well. all you can drink on a small (38') cat. and the food! mmmm, the food laura makes is delish. highly recommended adventure. http://www.rissalena.com/ will get you to their page. prices are VERY reasonable.

Given that she seemed sane and her recommendation was so glowing, I booked it. And I am ever-so-glad that I did. We had an awesome week in Cabo, every moment was perfect, but the sunset cruise we took on The Rissalena was the highlight of the entire trip for all of us. The staff was knowledgeable and funny, the service was impeccable, the margaritas were the best we had all week, the food was delicious, the boat was beautiful, and the tour was stunning.

So, Hello Ha Ha Narf? Thank you, thank you, thank you. There are many other reasons I am happy that I met you over at Killer's, but we all appreciated your tip. It was fantastic. Sheep stone.

They played really fun, upbeat music about Mexico on our way out of the bay and while we tootled around the Sea of Cortez, but as they turned the boat to head back into the bay they surreptitiously switched the music over to opera. The entire experience was a feast for all the senses. Imagine listening to opera with the wind in your face as the sun sets behind this mountain. It was perfectly timed and incredibly moving.

While we were out there we saw this local fisherman pull in this giant squid. He threw this one back but caught another less than five minutes later. He kept the second one. Our Captain, Aramis, told us that a school of giant squid had recently taken up residence in the bay, much to the delight of the local fishermen.

The Gregger commented that this guy seemed to have more squid and women than he knew what to do with and wondered aloud how many women he had thrown back already.