the peanut gallery

I’m purdy.

caitybaby — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 20:43:15 +0000

Just got back from the Berlin film festival and but. of. course. the one paparazzi pic I end up in is post 17 hours of puking due to a stomach virus, and complete with a double chin. Thanks a lot, Universe.

Mumsy, midday crying fits and medical diagnoses I want to punch in the junk.

caitybaby — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 04:17:56 +0000

I got a call this morning from my Aunt Connie (my mother’s sister) which I let mosey on into voicemail since I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet and let’s be honest, family catch up calls can be so long and…involved. She and her husband are flying down next weekend for a huge Bauer Pottery sale (we all have our little quirks), so I figured she was just seeking trivial information like my street address or if I want to meet up for lunch.

Flash forward a couple hours and she calls…again. I’m elbow deep in dishes so I ignore, but can’t help but wonder where the sudden interest in stalking me is stemming from? Both of her messages are borderline nonchalant. Simply “hey, it’s Connie, give me a call when you have a second.” But twice in as many hours? I decide to bite the bullet, and if there were an award for ripping off the band-aid, Auntie C would win it.

Connie: “Caitlin!”

me: “hey!”

Connie: “your mom had a stroke. she’s fine.”

Uh, I’m sorry, what the fuckety fuck?!?!

Apparently, my mother’s leg started to feel a bit wonky late last night. Set to fly to Beijing this morning, she decided to wait it out and see how she felt in a few hours. After failing miserably to catch some shuteye, running to the bathroom after a phantom face tingle ignited the hypochondriac in her to ensure she could still smile, and just plain not wanting to take a risk, she called the EMTs to take her to the hospital at 4 this morning.

Her bloodwork was completely clean, blood pressure looked great, and for all intents and purposes, she was fine. According to the neurosurgeon on duty (thank God for small favors), she technically suffered a teeny tiny baby stroke that is shockingly common for folks over 60.

New meds, a new diet and a newly adopted motto on my part of “answer every phone call I EVER get from now on” should ensure this type of dramz doesn’t go down again, but sweet Christ! Talk about a case of the Mondays…

Hallelujah for deep breaths and a huge helping of Jenny’s homemade apple pie. Let the self-medication commence.

simply stunning.

caitybaby — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 03:58:10 +0000

One of my girlfriends is in Amsterdam as we speak, and I literally just lectured her on how she cannot leave town before visiting AF’s house.

Michelle, I really hope you made it.

“Forgive me, Kitty, they don’t call me a bundle of contradictions for nothing!”

gorge.

caitybaby — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 08:05:10 +0000

pourtant. pourtant. pourtant.

caitybaby — Fri, 15 May 2009 05:31:07 +0000

ay dios mio!

caitybaby — Wed, 13 May 2009 18:10:38 +0000

T: There’s a hilarious irony in sitting in a planned parenthood office in k-town where they are playing a tv program on high force water jet stream explosions.

moi: hahaha. please tell me you’re just picking up birth control…

T: No, life is so much more exciting when there’s a threat of pregnancy and not knowing who the father is. I’m just getting tests 4 good measure.

moi: Jesus christ. You’re like a fucking telenovela.

well baby, daddy is either a half japanese comic who’s a pro @ pulling hair, or an alcoholic ex-mormon with anger issues…

T: you just painted me a picture where there’s a clear winner, thank you.

moi: shall I put “debasing fuck buddies” on my CV?

T: I just realized that I def look like the most normal person in this waiting room, yet I’d bet I’m the most scandalous by far under this facade.

moi: you’d make a great spy…if loose morals were under threat by terrorists.

that’s why I keep her around…

caitybaby — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 06:11:17 +0000

that and her kickass dance moves.

you know just what to say to a girl.

caitybaby — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 01:38:57 +0000

Jimmy: Do you Pandora?

moi: I have, I don’t regularly.

Jimmy: I feel like there should be a blog/tv station/radio station/magazine that you do…minutely.

moi: I do have fantastic taste in music.

Jimmy: you have fantastic taste in life.

and I’m not even trying to get into your pants.

tales from across the pond…

caitybaby — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 21:53:29 +0000

It’s hard to believe Betsy’s been in Scotland a year already (she’s earning her Doctorate at the University of Sterling re: chimpanzee cognition. I know, right? And I’m watching a snowy marathon of Millionaire Matchmaker on bootlegged cable). Fast on the path towards becoming the next David Attenborough, we just had a lovely Sunday chat where she enlightened me on some British slang she apparently made the mistake of dropping in her final interview.

“I told them I had great follow through when it came to my work ethic.”

follow through: to accidentally soil ones underpants whilst attempting to fart; to obtain russet gusset: drop a pebble (qv).

caitybaby — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 08:53:49 +0000

“Glad to see you were a method actor from the start.” -Betsy