I blame the heat, or the baby.



I went on a vacation to the open Manitoban prairies and two things happened:

1. No high speed internet.

2. Didn’t feel like it.


Other things happened too, good things, mainly. I’ll tell you about it after my mental recovery.


The limited amount of mental space I have was needed elsewhere, family vacations are fun.


I only have so much to give, so forgive me, my 5 loyal subscribers, forgive me for my lack of rant.


Fret not, for I have heaps and tons of worthless dialogue saved up and you shall be redeemed….


For now, enjoy this picture that encapsulates what I have been through the last 3 weeks:




I can’t decide if I am the driver of the car jumping the squid canyon, or if I am the squid trying to catch the little car and driver?


In any case, I’ll post real soon. It’s my son’s birthday this week and we are finishing up painting the house ( yeah, we only painted one side and then went on vacation, our neighbors just love us!)



Who steals a pony


This is Honey, she is a pony that belongs to my cousin who lives just outside of a Provincial Park in Manitoba, Canada.

Honey was STOLEN last night.

Honey has two small kiddos she belongs to and other pony and chicken friends to frolic with, she gets daily treats, and she lives in pony paradise.

Whoever stole her is a dick.  I hope Honey poos on them, all over them. Seriously.

I haven’t written anything of substance (not that my posts about the return of the overall is exactly solid fuel for the ol’ noggin machine) over the last couple of days because I basically wanted to stay off the internets while the media swarmed over the tragedy in Colorado. I cannot convey in words how senseless this all is. All of it.

When exactly did we become a bunch of violent, sexually repressed, pony thieves?

Is it our Puritanical heritage? The Military Industrial Complex? The Sexual Revolution? The Media?

I get it. It’s everything. It’s nothing. It is the rise and fall of an empire, these things are cyclical. I understand that there is no ‘understanding’ of why these things occur. Somebody gets a shitty idea and they either act upon it or they wise up and think of the impact it would make upon their fellow man, they might think:

“yeah, I want that pony, but she might belong to some innocent kids who love her so I’m just gonna go ahead and not steal her, maybe I’ll go bash some mailboxes instead.”

or they might think:

“it’s true that I am mad at the entire world, I’m mad at my mom, I’m mad at my dad, I’m mad at God. I’m mad that I was born this way and not that way, I’m mad that no one cares, I’m mad at being mad…but I’m not going to inflict pain and suffering upon innocent people no matter what kind of power rush it gives me, because it’s a fleeting, ghost of a sensation anyway, it doesn’t exist without the suffering of others and who wants to feel that way? Who would actively want other human beings to suffer…..”

As I have mentioned in a previous post, I am not a professional anything, nor do I claim to know the inner most workings of the people who make terrible choices that effect others.

I am a human being though, and I have made what I consider to be terrible choices in my lifetime, I have hurt people by being careless, I have put my needs in front of others and so I know what it means to  F up.

But I also know what it means to love uncontrollably and desperately, I know what it feels like to truly live for someone else’s happiness, I know what it feels like to give and give of yourself until there is nothing left but a little crusty speck of dust.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not some princess who sits on her throne of good deeds and volunteer work and baking and pretends to not know what it means to feel anger, jealousy, rage, and shame…no one is immune to this.

If you are, you’re a sociopath and need to back away from me slowly with both hands where I can see them, get! shoo! bugger off!

This rant is my feeble attempt to process why we do what we do. Why we steal other people’s ponies. Why we would shoot at a room full of people trying to watch a film. Why we can’t we just do the right thing.

I realize there are no answers, and, if someone says that they have the answers I’m either going to not listen to them because they are full of shit, or I’m going to argue that NO MATTER WHAT the solution is it is only a temporary band-aid on a gaping, rotting, infected wound of a problem.

We are playing a giant game of ‘Whack-A-Mole”, you hit one over here, another pops up over there.

All we can do is love harder, so hard that it just hurts you.  I’m not talking about just romantic love and the love you have for your children, but love for your neighbor, love the shit out them. Even if they suck.

Love that lady that drives like an asshole.
Love the close talker at the grocery store.
Love the guy at your office that always tells the same stories, but first asks you if he’s told you this before, and then continues to tell you anyway after you say ‘yes’.
Love the old man across the street you thinks you are a hippie and you need to cut your grass.
Love your customers that annoy the shit out of you, the ones that just bitch for bitchin’s sake.
Love all of the children at your kid’s school, even the gross ones, even the loud ones.
Love the guy at the video store who just wants someone to talk to for 5 minutes, he’s not a pervert, he’s just lonely.
Love the receptionists at your doctor’s office, it’s not their fault you have been waiting for an hour.
Love your waiter, he’s stoned and hungover, so he might forget that you wanted an extra pickle.
Love the jerk who stole your pony.
Love the maniac that hates everyone, including himself.

Oh and, if anyone knows anything about Honey’s whereabouts, please contact me and I will forward the info.



I got moisturizer and I’m so excited.


Western Civilization just face palmed itself.

Hiker spots man in goat suit frolicking with a herd

Hiker spots man in goat suit frolicking with a herd. Seriously.


Sorry I haven’t posted anything that is worth a damn in a couple of days…this should make up for some of the abandonment issues you must be dealing with.

Nancy and Lee want to sing you a song

Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time, and I will give to you…summer wine.





Making super hero capes and watermelon granita, photos to follow.


I know, you can’t wait.

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Today is Wednesday, which is now my fancy ladies book club day, I also have to take the kids to the pool and make supper and do laundry.

Why the hell am I telling you this? What do you care? Well, you don’t…I’m just awkwardly introducing you to a section of the blog that my husband, Matthew will be ‘guest posting’ on.  He does not like this name, but I am going to call it: Movies with Matthew.

Say it with a strong mid-western accent: Moooovies weth Maaathew. Don’tcha Know?

In this series, he will review newly released films that he has seen.

You should take what he says seriously. The man knows his stuff.  And I’m not just saying that because he’s hot…


So, with out further ado Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you…MOVIES WITH MATTHEW:


‘American Animal’ is a film that digs its claws in deep, doesn’t let go and proceeds to maul you for 95 minutes. It is a beast that is hideous to look upon, but one that makes it impossible to look away. It is equal parts funny, entertaining, heartfelt and disturbing all mixed up into a giant cocktail that just happens to be a masterwork of the strange.

Shot with the RED ONE camera on a meager budget, this film is the mind child of writer, producer, editor, director and star Matt D’Elia. The entire film takes place in a lovely modern apartment, and the cast is comprised of only 4 people; 2 men and 2 women. The story is that of a terminally ill man, Jimmy, and his best friend, James,  each from wealthy, privileged families, who live together in unemployed, free minded harmony. But this is all turned on its head when James decides to get a day job. Jimmy does not like this at all and proceeds to punish James for his choice.  Jimmy and James are joined by their lady friends, Blonde Angela and Not Blonde Angela and these women have no say in the matter when Jimmy’s scatter gun of wrath gets pointed in their direction from time to time.

Jimmy is played by D’Elia and his performance here is something of an anomaly. Generally, the desired result of a great performance is naturalism and believability. But D’Elia subverts this ‘rule’ and ignites it into wild, off the handle, bat shit crazy fireworks. It is a performance you could liken to a black hole: it has a gravitational force so great, you, and everything else within its pull cannot help but be consumed by it. He chews and licks and grinds his pelvis on the landscape like an ethically deficient, bratty hurricane with nothing/everything to lose.

This is an American empirical allegory done properly. It isn’t simple. It has no answers. But it has desperate questions and statements made with both emotionally immature hubris and flat out denial of reality. Jimmy is America. And this exceedingly memorable performance is culminated in one of the greatest monologues in recent cinematic history.

This is not a perfect film, but it is among the best of 2011. The cinematography is good, but lacks in any sort of uniquely defined style. The editing is wonderful, but unconventional. And the scenes without D’Elia suffer slightly under weak acting from the other cast members. The film comes close to drastically veering of course once or twice. This is caused by a few run of the mill “weird for the sake of weird” moments, but D’Elia somehow manages to keep his hands on the wheel and never let it fly off the cliff completely.

“American Animal” will not be for everyone and I can’t recommend it in the same way that I might recommend ‘Casablanca’ or ‘Forrest Gump’, but it is a wonderful example of how the cinematic medium can be used as a true form of individual artistic expression. And that can’t be a bad thing.

-Matthew Levandoski

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This can’t be happening.


Oh, but it is. Looks like the latest trend being force-birthed into popular culture is the return of the overalls, yes you heard it here folks, go out and buy yourself your very own denim ( or leather!) marsupial pouch today.

What is this crap?

Is it a continued return to the grunge-if-i-care styles of the 1990’s? Did an archeologist unearth a buried overalls factory that collapsed after the hit television show ‘ Blossom’ went off the air?  Or have the models of the world secretly  approached the top designers and told them their tale of woe that they are tired of being perceived as perfect and they want something that gives them the illusion of a ‘wide, bloated, mid-section and a giant, but, flat backside’?

Yes, that must be it.

I cannot contemplate why on earth a woman would willingly want to put on a pair of these man repellers and then go out in public, in fancy heels and baubles no less!


If you follow the trends on Pinterest.com, you can see the heaps and tons of re-pins dedicated to the return of the overall.  The women pictured on average, weigh in at around 105 pounds and are at least 5’9” and are beauties to boot, and even they look like the farmer in the dell…no matter what trendy clutch or 800$ pair of Louboutains you pair with it, in fact that addition would just make you look like even more of an idiot.

But what do I know? I’m one of those crazy women that enjoy looking like I have a waist and I want my ass to look smaller…generally speaking anyway. If this trend towards intentionally frumpy and wide is what will be considered tres’ chic this fall, I am pissed that I am not completely post-partum anymore because this time last year I was about to give birth to my son and would have loved the shit out of looking ‘edgy and with it’ in a pair of big ass overalls that would cover my post-baby bumps and lumps. I would have even taken it up a notch by only wearing one of the straps and folding the other one forward,  a la’ Marky Mark.

Can you feel the vibration?

And to add further insult to injury, designers are offering up these crowd pleasers in leather.

Could you imagine walking around in a sack of leather?! Oh, the ensuing swamp ass that would follow. They should be sold with a can of Goldbond body powder to aid with the prickly heat rash you would get after your ‘morning at the farmer’s market’.  Global warming is real, people. It is happening and unless you are going to go club some baby seals over the weekend, you NEVER need to swarth yourself in leather- Italian lambskin or not.

So, please refrain from jumping upon this bandwagon. And if you see some fashionista out on the street in a pair of these, publicly mock her so that she will never be tempted to wear them again. Point and stare, have your children look at her and cry, throw your shoe, do whatever it takes to keep this trend at bay.  The flipped up bill of a baseball cap and nasty man-tanks made their way through, and are in high abundance making young men look like Dennis the Menace and showing off man-pits everywhere.


Go away 1990’s, you were good for Film, you were good for Music (in limited amounts), and you were good for creating a generation of people who have such an inflated sense of entitlement that we are just now realizing the impact that we make upon this earth.  In the last 10 years those of us who experienced the 1990’s as teenagers and young adults have had to work really hard to break the cycle of the industrial model that had been forced down our throats by our parents as well as popular culture. So much so, that we believe we are pioneers if we grow our own vegetables, or use cloth diapers, or drink fermented kombucha instead of a coke. We are irritating even to ourselves because we behave as though we are the first to realize that being a dick is a bad way to live, generally speaking.

The neon stuff is ok. As long as it is used as an accent color and not the entire garment, when that happens the wearer just looks like they are part of a road construction crew and you shouldn’t run them over with your car.

I will leave you with some images of when wearing overalls is appropriate.  In all other cases, be prepared to be publically ridiculed and to make children cry.


You are a painter.


You are pregnant.


You are a toddler.

You are Miyam Bialik.


Or you just give up.

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Francoise Hardy wants to sing you a song…

C’est le temps de l’amour,
Le temps des copains et de l’aventure
Quand le temps va et vient

I totally know what that says, just seeing if you do, cause I can’t hang out with folks that don’t sprechen-de-franch, um kay?

Coffee time, then I’m going to write the most amazing post, that you’ll want to jump through the computer and kiss me on my mouth. Right on my mouth!

hint: construction traffic….

you just sit tight.

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Couch Surfing


Photo: Brick House tumblr

This could work as our new couch, I mean I would take it if they were like “do you want this?”

That couple on the couch could be Matthew and I, I  totally am just as tiny as that little lady.
Matthew is actually quite long and slender and wears black -tshirts and jeans so, basically, that is what we would look like sitting staring at nothing and spiraling into depression thinking about how f-ing expensive this couch is.

Here’s what we are thinking:
why did we buy this couch? we can’t afford toilet paper any more. it’s okay, toilet paper is bad for the environment. our couch is so lovely and says so much about “us”.
i’m so hungry.

Or this couch would work:

Photo: youaretheriver

Oh, the piles and mountains of dog hair that could be stored under this beauty.
Built in dog hair storage?! Can you believe it?!

So, I am going to either re-upholster our couch, which currently looks like this:


Ahhh! What is that black mini-pony like beast?!

No, that is not the monster that haunted your dreams as a child, it’s my dog Charley and he wants you to know that he is here to get in the way. Always and forever. He’ll always be in the way. Always. xoxo, Charley.

This couch is an old Broyhill and it is heavy and sturdy and comfortable even, but it is ugly; hence the various tapestries thrown about it… 


Or I can pawn this beast off on someone else and troll for a new couch that is in the price range of, oh I dunno, about 50-100$?
Yeah, I’m gonna loosen the purse strings a bit for this purchase. What can I say, I’m willing to go all out for the right couch.

So, my dream couches above serve only as inspiration for what I am planning to do with ours.

I am aware that neither of my “dream couches” resemble the actual couch I own.


Yeah, well.


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