Ouch!

So usually I mostly write about my cute, angry Hoshie, only he isn’t the only angry child in my family. The other day I was watching my brother’s kids because every other responsible person on the planet was busy, you know, holidays and such. He has an adorable little five year old with an abnormally large head who, like Hoshie, has a bit of a temper (I don’t think the large head is the cause, but I could be wrong).

So I decide to play Star Wars with him because he enjoys showing off his light saber skills. We are in the middle of our duel and during one of his “spin flourishes” I tap him on the bum with my light saber (honestly it was only a tap, I don’t like to hurt people). Well you would have thought that I had just cracked him on his funny bone because the kid went ballistic and started wailing on me. It was horrible! I was screaming while he was hitting me as hard as he could. I finally got him to stop and I realized that from now on all activities with him would involve anything that could not be used as a weapon, so basically we can have staring contests until he learns to head-butt me with his eyes.

I keep doing this!

So I left my holiday shopping TO THE LAST MINUTE and since I love to shop online, my shizz may not come in time. CRAPOLA! I would shop the traditional way but crowds give me a rash. In my defense I've been very busy over-accesorizing with Squidgy. She and her Auntie Via love bling - lots and lots of bling. I have been know to rival Mr. T with my bling especially since my friend gave me a "Bedazzler." I would so bedazzle my pillow if it didn't mean that I would wake up with my head resembling a golf ball.

I guess all I can do for now is hope that stuff is getting rushed for the holidays and hand out a bunch of IOUs. Tacky, I know, but coming from a woman covered in head to toe rhinestones, it is probably expected.

Top Three Reasons Via is a Bad Aunt

1. Teaches that deserts are a fine substitute for actual meals that might involve veggies or some such nutritious garbage.
2. Teaches that one doesn't need paper to draw - a hand or face will do nicely in a pinch (preferably not your own).
3. Teaches fun words like butt, fart and democrat.

I will come up with more as I spend more time with my cute Squidgy.

Three Days to Go

I am soooooooooo excited! My cute Squidgy will be here in three days! In three days I can look forward to losing lots of sleep and lots of hair and perhaps even what is left of my sanity, but it is all worth it because she is the cutest little torture device on the planet!

His Reputation Precedes Him

So I went to dinner on Friday with an awesome couple who had the most well-behaved children ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET. The kids were totally polite and they even schooled me when I began to pick my teeth at the table with my friend’s credit card. I was so impressed that I grilled them all about their life hoping to figure out how one might create such amazing children (hopefully it is not all nature or I'm screwed).

In the process of grilling I discovered that the oldest child goes to the same school as Yert and is also in Yert’s grade. I immediately asked him if he knew Yert’s younger brother Hoshie and he nodded. I then asked if he had ever witnessed Hoshie’s incredible rage. A huge grin broke out over the boy’s face and he nodded. At which point I said, “I know! It’s awesome isn’t it?”

All My Pants Are Tight!

So lately I have been eating everything in sight and all my pants are tight, not just the skinny jeans which are supposed to be tight - ALL MY PANTS - even the ones I bought large so I would have room to expand. I should cut back on my food consumption but it's all I have people - that and a butt-load of books.

Makes Me Sad

So these are pictures of my elementary school that is being torn down. It was built in 1937 and I think it is beautiful and the thought of it lying in heaps of rubble breaks my heart.

Attack of the Human Drum Machine

So I need to catch you up on what happened the weekend I took Hosh and Yert to High School Musical 3 otherwise known as the weekend my eardrums burst into flames. Anyhoo, Hosh and Yert were super excited. Yert was excited to see Sharpay and Hosh was just excited to be released from anger management for the afternoon for good behavior.

The movie started out with the opening dance number which was upbeat and kept the boys' attention as well as causing a four year old behind us to shout "YAY!" EVERY TEN SECONDS DURING EVERY MUSICAL NUMBER! The whole damn movie is basically one big musical number! I was able to ignore this for the most part, but what I could not ignore, occurred about fifteen minutes into the movie, Hosh started pounding on his chest like he was a gorilla. The first time it happened I leaned over and politely asked him to stop because no one appreciated his human percussion. By the fifth time I was a tad frustrated and I told him that if he did not stop I would sell his Wii and use the money to pay for my eardrum reconstruction. He complied FOR ALL OF A SECOND and then he was back at it and I spent pretty much the whole rest of the movie trying to convince Hosh that it is so much funner to sit on one's hands, it makes them nice and toasty with the added bonus of smelling like butt.

Like Laverne and Shirley with more cheese

So my cute Hoshie and the adorable Yert have decided that they are going to live together which is all well and good considering they are family and therefore have to live together until they are of the age where it is not considered child abuse for my sister to kick them out. However they are not just going to live together while growing up or even during their poor college years when Hosh will only be able to afford processed cheese. No, they are going to live together UNTIL THEY DIE. That is their plan, even after they get married. 

Upon hearing this, I pointed out to my sister that perpetual cohabitation may be a deal breaker for most women. I know that if my sister had informed my brother-in-law that I would be coming home along with that unfortunate wedding gift of deodorant, their marriage would have been annulled before I started choking on their last slice of wedding cake. 

Yert and Hosh are convinced that this arrangement will work and will be beneficial to all parties involved. Yert's spouse will get used to the constant screams of "I'M SORRY!" whenever Hoshie gets called on leaving the seat up and the light on and the toilet unflushed. (Poor Hosh has yet to learn that "I'm sorry" only sounds sincere when it is not screamed at the top of your lungs.) Hosh's spouse will have to adjust to the fact that in the middle of the night, Hosh will disappear only to be found the next morning comfortably sandwiched between Yert and his spouse. Good times.

YES!

I am so happy. I know that in my immediate family, I am the only one celebrating. I hope that one day my family will realize what an asset Barack Obama is to this country.

Via's World! Party Time!

So I am attending my first real election party and I am stoked. I don't get invited to that many parties because I tend to get excited and choke on my food. Apparently having the chance to practice the heimlich is not some people's idea of fun. Go figure.

I am lucky enough to have found friends who are willing to overlook my inhaling and subsequent cough/spraying of the hummus, and invite me to their party. I am also lucky because these patient friends share my political views and we are all rooting for Obama. I am so excited to discuss politics with people who won't call me a Communist (I'm talking to you mom!) and understand what it is like voting Democrat in the reddest of the red states. Here's hoping we will have a reason to really celebrate! OBAMA for PRESIDENT!

Halloween Pic

Updates - YEAH!

So since I haven't posted in a bit I have some stuff to catch you up on. First off, pictures will be forthcoming of my Halloween costume. I was indeed a Jonas Brother, however, I was not the eldest, sweaty Jonas Brother. I had a major wardrobe malfunction with regards to making believable looking pit-stains and my wig was too small for my head and looked like a curly yamika. I ended up raiding my wig collection (yes I have a wig collection, I love dressing up) and I found a wig that would work for the middle Jonas - he of the giant eyebrows, so I went to work dressed as him. I found that unless people had adolescent children, they had no idea who I was and many thought I was Groucho Marx.

My costume was awesome, but I did not spend the whole day as a Jonas, that night I decided to attend a local screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show dressed as Riff Raff. I spent weeks putting together my costume and I was extremely pleased with how it turned out, even though I had to use pantyhose to portray a receding hairline. I was excited to go because I had never seen the movie live but I always wanted to and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Yeah - I was the only one dressed as Riff Raff and I had to GET ON STAGE AND DO THE TIME WARP! I was horrified, not only because I had not watched the movie since last Halloween and I didn't have the dance memorized, but because I am not the type of person who likes to perform in front of other people, I like to sit in the back and heckle. I was so AWFUL. I think I scarred some people for life. They will always remember how their 2008 Halloween was ruined by some chick with hose on her head. 

Meaty Thighs

So my meaty thighs will no longer fit in my skinny pants and now I am either going to have to stop inhaling Snickers bars or get my meaty thighs to a gym. This happens every year when my cold weather weight gain kicks in and suddenly my pants are tight. Usually not a big deal unless I am in corduroy. However, take pants that are already tight and yeah – I can’t get them past my knees! I need a treadmill or elliptical so I can keep up with the exercise I get in the summer when the weather is nice and I can go outside and run and skip in the sun until Hoshie jumps out from behind a rock and whacks me with a stick.

Speaking of Hoshie, I am taking him, Yert and my meaty thighs to the movies this weekend. It was Hoshie’s turn to pick and he picked High School Musical 3. Thanks Hosh! Apparently his hatred of all things non-videogame related does not extend to singing that makes your ears bleed. I should wear my skinny pants so that the pain of having my organs squished distracts me from the pain of my eardrums exploding.

Some advice for men

Guys, if you decide you want to talk to me, come up to me and say hi. Don't shout at me from your car while I am walking by myself through a parking lot. It scares the crap out of me. Nuff said.

So Long, Sweet Ghetto Bug!

So last week, I sold my sweet Ghetto Bug. It was time, but it was really hard and I cried, like a big giant baby. The Ghetto Bug and I had some awesome times - off-roading, going on canoe trips, that time I got lost in the suburbs - such good memories. It is true that the Ghetto Bug frustrated me at times, but she truly was a great car. She rarely broke down, most of her issues were cosmetic and for those I developed work-arounds. After all, who really needs all their radio buttons to work? I had to sell the Ghetto Bug for cheaper than I would have liked, but I figured the next person would probably want to fix the flaws I learned to live with and even brag about. It became this funny thing when I would give people rides and they would notice the duck tape and would say, "I can totally top that, check out the paper clip I use to roll up and down my window." Good times! So next time you are in a toasting mood, say an extra one for the Ghetto Bug, she has earned it.

That One!

So I'm watching the debate last night and it is the usual he did this and he did that and he chose a VP who shoots things from a helicopter, when suddenly something caught my attention. In the midst of all the finger-pointing, John McCain calls Barack Obama - "that one." I immediately get all excited because I know the next time someone asks who I am voting for, I can reply, "that one."

The next day I am trying my best to get someone to ask me who I am voting for (not an easy task given the state I live in will be red until Paris Hilton and three of her cronies usher in the apocalypse) when my boss suddenly walks up to me and hands me a small blue piece of paper with the Obama campaign symbol and the words "Thatone 08" printed on the front. I immediately break out the button maker and start making oodles of buttons so that I no longer have to wait for someone to ask me who I support, I can proudly support "that one" on my personage every day.

Same as my sister

Take the Quiz here!

Golimar!

I love this video so much and I get this song stuck in my head for days. Killa! Killa!

I am officially a renter people!

So I have joined the ranks of those who rent and I am EXTREMELY excited about it. Before you get too excited for me, I should confess that what I am renting is a storage shed and unfortunately the rules state very clearly that you are not allowed to live in the storage shed. My heart sank upon learning this but I also knew that I would get tired of peeing in a bucket. I will not get tired of knowing that I have a place where all the so called junk I love will have a safe home, away from the threats of my mother who finds stinky old chairs repugnant. She cannot see the potential, but I can. With some love and a strong dose of Fabreeze, those chairs will only mildly smell of old cheese and goat.

In addition to being able to store my stinky chairs, I will also be able to acquire more. YAY! I have hated having to turn down perfectly good rejects from my friends and random strangers who leave stuff on their lawns with signs that say "Free" and "Please take this, it smells like feet." That stuff can now go to my storage shed, until I fill that to capacity, but hopefully by then I can afford a nice apartment with lots of room and carpet stench that will overpower the smell coming from my stuff.

Oy!

This scares me.

Whistling Does Not Help Me

So my poor Ghetto Bug has been having some issues. Some of these issues require time at the shop with payment coming in the form of one of my vital organs and some only require some minor tweaks on my end and I get to keep my liver which is important to me given how much I drink. Tonight I had to do some tweaking.

Sometimes the Ghetto Bug makes a clicking noise and that means it needs some oil. I have to state here in my defense that I am diligent about replacing the oil every three months. I am all about keeping up on regular maintenance. However, the past year, the Ghetto Bug has been losing oil rapidly. No one can figure out why, maybe it's the off-roading. I have started taking the Ghetto Bug into the oil place between changes to have the oil checked and when I do that - guess what? The Ghetto Bug is fine on oil. If I happen to be busy and miss the between the oil change check up - IT NEEDS OIL. Sometimes I think the Ghetto Bug takes pleasure in messing with me. Like that time at the drive thru window when I needed to roll the window down and it kept rolling itself back up. When that happened, the Ghetto Bug probably did the equivalent of shooting milk out its nose only with oil not milk and that is why it has been coming up short. Anyhoo, back to the filling of the oil. So the Ghetto Bug has been clicking. It is late and I decide to pull into a store parking lot under a lamp. I get out, open the hood, and am putting oil in the Ghetto Bug. I am perfectly capable of performing this task by myself however it makes me feel a little less misanthropic when someone at least offers to help. As I am filling the oil people keep passing me and no one says jack. Finally a car full of guys drives up slowly and I think, "at last some helpful people." Do they stop and offer a hand? No! They whistle and drive off! I understand that the image of a women bent over the engine of a car elicits a reaction in some men due to the featuring of said image in many a men's magazine but COME ON! I had oil smeared on my hands because I was doing actual mechanical work. It was not strategically smeared on me to make my butt glisten. In fact I was wearing slacks therefore there would be no glistening butt or for that matter cleavage because I HAVE NO BOOBS!

Needless to say after receiving only a whistle in the way of acknowledgment, I had given up hope of any help and was preparing to shut the Ghetto Bug's hood when a kind couple drove up and asked if I needed assistance. I smiled and said "no thank you" and as I drove home in the Ghetto Bug I felt some peace knowing that caring people still inhabit this world and then my thoughts shifted to the weird burning smell coming from my engine.

My Thoughts Exactly

My friend posted this on his blog and after I read it I knew I had to post it on mine also, because I am a copy-cat. In the Seventh Year

I'm thinking of making him a bubble-wrap suit

So my step-dad has always been a tad accident prone. For the most part it is only himself that he injures, but that is only because we have learned to avoid him when he breaks out the tools or any sharp or hard or metal or wood or stone or very solid cheese object. We learned this through some unfortunate accidents.

When we were little, my step-dad bought a puppy for us (he knew exactly how to buy our love) and he and my brother set out to build a doghouse. I was inside watching my stories (Nellie Oleson was such a BITCH) and all of the sudden my brother runs in screaming, clutching his eye. Turns out that my step-dad pulled a nail out of a board and accidentally hammered my brother's eye socket in the process. Fortunately my brother was not blinded and we now laugh about this incident and the time I had severe OCD. A few years later my step-dad accidentally removed part of my mother's finger in a freak farm machinery accident.

His accidents through the years involved things as random as sheep, an alpine slide, a riding lawnmower (he rode it off the top tier of our lawn) and most recently an ottoman. Thanks to said ottoman, he now is recovering from a broken hip in a care facility.

As his family, we try our hardest to keep him safe, however we can only do so much. Being the proactive person that I am, I have decided to try and talk him into being enclosed in a giant bubble. The point being not to make him feel like a hampster, but rather to keep him from further harm, because I care and because it would give me something to brag about.

Olga is one lucky woman

No Lactose for You!

So my cute, pale, dairy-obsessed Hoshie has been put on a strict non-dairy diet by his pediatrician due to some stomach issues. This diet would be doable if we were not talking about Hoshie. I am pretty sure that instead of 90% water that kid is made up of 90% cow juice, 8% Kraft American cheese slices, and 2% anger (for good measure). Now my poor sister, who is very tender hearted, has to listen to her lactose craving lad wail as if hope itself had shriveled up and died in Pandora's Box. Hopefully the doctor will discover that all things cow are not the cause of Hoshie's illness and Hosh can once again go through a gallon a day.

My Talented Little Yert

Fighting the man

So I’ve decided that I am going to try and save my old elementary school. This summer a new school will be completed and the old one will be demolished. I cannot bear the thought of yet another historic building being lost in my town. Some of the first buildings here were demolished and a McDonald’s stands in their place – A MCDONALD’S! It is horrific in its generic-ness. This school is one of the last of the old town buildings and I have to try and save it. I am doing research on old buildings and understand that it can be rather cost prohibitive, but it shouldn’t be all about money, we need to preserve our history. Imagine if Europe had leveled everything every hundred or so years and rebuilt – it would look like the newer parts of my town – CRAPPY! Yes I am ranting, but I am passionate about old things! They are awesome! I am using an excessive amount of exclamation points! Anyway, I have a number of plans in the works. One plan involves trying to come up with the money to turn the school into the town museum. They are planning to build a new building in which they would display historic pictures of our town, pictures featuring buildings THAT WERE DEMOLISHED. How fantastic would it be if that history resided in a living, historical representation of the town’s past? It would be frackin’ great! That is my ideal plan. My “if all else fails” plan involves chaining myself to the school. If you find yourself in my town this summer and you feel as passionately about old buildings as I do, please support the cause and bring me Pop Tarts.

Marriage talk with Hoshie

Hoshie - "Aunt Via, are you ever getting married?"

Me - "No Hoshie. I am going to move in with you and your wife when I am very old and you will have to take care of me."

(A look of horror washes over Hoshie's pale, freckled face.)

Hoshie's mom - "Yes and she will be sleeping in your bed, in between you and your wife as payback for all the years you spent in between me and your father."

Me - "And when I cough during the night my teeth will land on your pillow."

He loves his Auntie Via - SO MUCH!

So I go to visit my sister and I am looking for my cute, pale (yes, still - in the middle of summer) Hoshie so that I can say hi. Usually when I arrive I am greeted by a chorus of "Aunt Via!" but that chorus never includes a certain ghostly child because he is too busy waiting for the skin on his hands to graft onto his Wii - then they will NEVER be separated. I always have to search him out and yell "HI HOSHIE!" at the top of my lungs so that I may receive a half-muttered "oh, hi" in return. I then decide that his adorably pale self must be hugged. That action elicits a curt "stop it" from Hoshie and I answer with "I hug you because I love you" and that is answered with "I am playing my Wii" which is code for "leave me the hell alone woman!" For now I will still try to hug him because one day he will grow up and think showers are for losers and then I won't really want to hug him. I will still love him but I have an adversion to hugging people who smell like feet.

Hee Hee

Xanaduuuuuuuu

So this weekend I had a good helping of Xanadu. Granted it is not the best Michael Beck movie, that would be The Warriors, but it still has its charms thanks to large helpings of leg warmers and feathered hair. Plus I love movie guys, they are generally not douche-bags like real guys.

MySpaced Out

So I was trying to find my niece's MySpace page because I am nosy. I was able to find my nephew's and apparently he is the world's greatest sith. Good on ya Drew! However, I could not locate her's. I did however see about 10 billion pictures of kissing couples and 20 billion pictures of some chick's cleavage. Does signing up for Myspace mean that I will have to either put a camera down my shirt or find some random guy to suck face with while I try to capture said moment of awkwardness? I have no cleavage and I don't like to be touched so I am screwed. I have now decided that my picture here on The Black Project is too provocative and I should change it to something more classy - like a shot of my coin slot.

Updates and Such

So yeah, exciting things have been happening, actually one exciting thing has happened - I had Lasik - YEAH! I can now see when I wake up. It is a total trip. The procedure was quick and painless except for the ice water they dumped in my eyes which gave me a massive ice cream headache. I went into the Lasik room barely avoiding running into the machinery and tripping over the many power cables and I came out able to see the features on everyone's faces. I could see eyes and noses!

My eyes hurt like a mother for the first few days (I had PRK Lasik) so I caved and took the prescribed pain medicine. Holy pickles, my dreams were strange! I am blaming the dreams on the pain meds rather than the fact I lived off Starbursts for five days straight. In one of my dreams I was a vampire, only I didn't bite people, I was just wandering down the street, minding my own business when a black bear attacked me, and then a wolf, and then a Shitzu. It was nuts, I just kept seeing teeth coming at me.

Once my eyes felt better. I buried the meds in the backyard where they could no longer do harm to my psyche. I then had to deal with the blurry vision which I was assured was normal. My friend and I both had Lasik on the same day and she was blurry too so I didn't stress. I am still a little blurry now, but I my vision is improving.

In other news I have been trying to spend more time with my nephews by dragging them to movies I want to see. I took my nephew D to see Hellboy II. He was extremely excited to go and let out a squeal usually heard coming out of the mouths of tweens at a Jonas Brothers concert. How he can get his sixteen year old voice to reach that octave, I will never know.

Next I took my nephew Yert to The Dark Knight. He and I both loved it and he spent the rest of the day asking people why they were so serious. Most responded it was because gas was over $4 a gallon. I spent the rest of the day trying to do the Batman growl and I think I destroyed my vocal chords.

I still need to take Hoshie and Chaser to a movie. I want to find something a little less violent for Hoshie since he is fairly young. As for Chaser, I told him I would take him to The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants II. He is a HUGE America Ferrera fan. Sometimes I catch him dressed as Ugly Betty asking an imaginary Daniel if he would like a latte.

August will be AWESOME!

Oops!

So my boss walks into work the other day with pictures from the HRC Gala. He places one on the desk of my coworker and asks, "Do you notice anything unusual about this picture?" She looks at it for a moment and then she looks at me and I'm all, "What? Was I humming Iron Maiden again?" My boss then picks up the picture and brings it over to me. In the forefront of the picture are my boss and two coworkers. And in the background? Well that would be me making a face that is only meant to be pulled when someone lights their cubicle on fire. I immediately had a flashback of me, with only wine in my belly, making faces behind my boss and two coworkers while they were having their picture taken. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but so did that purchase of parachute pants in the nineties. I felt bad, only I couldn't stop laughing so the remorse did not seem genuine. I ended up e-mailing the picture to my brother and he gave me an A+ for my ability to ruin what would have been a great picture if it weren't for the demented person in the background.

Most Fun Ever!

Among some of the old things I hoard are dresses. I found a dress last summer at an antique shop and thanks to the events of this past weekend, I was able to wear it and I looked hot! Normally I would say I looked semi presentable, but one of my friends told me that I looked so good, he would consider going straight for me. Best compliment ever. I think that earned me a hot. What was this fabulous event? It was the annual HRC gala and it was probably some of the most fun I have ever had in my life and it was for an excellent cause so win win.

The night started with me drinking on an empty stomach and getting a little buzzed (one glass of wine - light weight). I was wearing heels and I was so worried that I was going to teeter into the pool, but I didn't. I just ended up squealing loudly when I saw they were auctioning off scooters. I wanted me one so bad. I have often pictured myself riding a scooter down the road, the wind drying my moist pits. Ahhhhhh! Anyhoo, the buzz wore off in time for dinner where I stuffed myself - BIG TIME! It was seriously some of the best food I have ever eaten. I am still thinking about it as I type this. I had a plate of delicious sauteed vegetables and about five desserts.

After dinner my friend made good on his promise to dance with me and I totally spazzed out on the dance floor. At one point I karate chopped some poor women on the head. I forgot my rule about leaving a good five feet of open space around me so as to avoid any collateral damage. I apologized profusely, but she still scuzzed me and stomped away. Oops.

I ended the night riding back to my car with some friends (I shuttled in). We discussed music and I butchered the words to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." I was a tad embarrassed until one of my fellow carpoolers destroyed Abba's "Waterloo." Suddenly, I didn't feel an urge to write a long apologetic e-mail to Steve Perry for ruining his awesome anthem.

She's here and she's operating on a completely different time-zone!

Yes my sweet Squidgy is in town and I am soooooo happy and sleep deprived. Squidgy is on her home time and every morning around 6:00 a.m., she pounds on my door. It's her way of saying, "wake up Auntie Via, my mother has checked out as parent and you must entertain me." I love my Squidgy, but I also love sleep. Her favorite thing to play with me is hair dresser, this game consists of her pulling my hair until it falls out in chunks. She also loves to mimic everything I say. This will come in handy when I teach her some choice phrases to repeat to my sister like; "I need to make a beer run." or "You smell like armpit, mom." or "I'm voting Democrat." The last phrase will certainly push my sister over the edge as she has signed away her family's soul to Mitt Romney.

Countdown to Squidgy!

So there are a little over 24 hours before my cute Squidgy is here to visit. I am so excited to see her, especially now that she has grown out of her crap-smearing phase. No longer are my endless articles of vintage shizz in danger of being tainted by toddler pooh. All I will have to worry about is her tinkling on the books that litter my floor if her mom tries to have her use the evil potty. I think she developed a fear of the toilet when her mom would yell, "NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" as she washed her binky in the bowl. The toilet became bad, like strangers and mullets after Labor Day. It doesn't bother me that she stays in diapers a little longer, but then I am not her parent and I don't have to change her. In fact, I disappear when the room suddenly starts to stink. It is wonderful being an aunt.

The SX-70 with 600 film

So obviously the ancient Time Zero film had some issues. I followed the advice on the Polaroid website and used 600 film with some minor modifications, namely some removal of nubs. The website said you should alter the camera, but this camera is bitchin' and I have no desire to ruin its mojo. Anyhoo, I decided just to put the exposure as low as it would go and take my chances. Fellow SX-70 users did not seemed pleased with the results of using 600 film, but I thought the pictures turned out kind of cool although I have no basis of comparison because the Time Zero photos I took were warped (see previous post). The following pictures were taken in fairly low light because the faster film tends to overexpose easily. The one I took outside shows some overexposure due to the sunlight, but still, I think it turned out okay.

Fun with the SX-70

So lately I have been taking pictures with this ...















... and I love it. The only bummer is that the film I have been using is 10 years old. The results being these ...



















and



















You may be asking why I didn't buy new film, film where the WHOLE picture will develop. I'll tell you why - because Polaroid stopped making film for these cameras two years ago. In fact, Polaroid will stop producing instant film in 2009, thereby guaranteeing that future generations will have no clue when Andre 3000 sings "shake it like a Polaroid picture." Their reaction will be similar to mine when my grandma looked up in the sky and said, "Oh, a dirigible" and I said, "where is it, behind the blimp?"

The whole Polaroid thing really upsets me, especially because my biggest fear is that one day film will cease to exist and I love taking pictures the old fashioned way. I love digital photography as well because I can instantly delete all my crap pictures and no evidence will remain to haunt me. However, one big draw with film is being able to develop the film and print print pictures. I think that process is so much fun. It is almost as exciting for me as that time I discovered the "off menu" Jamba Juice. So anyway because my brain just went on strike I will finish this post with an ode to old school film. Below are pictures my grandparents took of Hoover Dam back in the day. Enjoy!

Not So Smooth Criminal

Me: "Wally, did I get any mail today?"

My step-dad Wally: "I think you received one of those entertainment magazines."

Me: "Where is it?"

Wally heads into the garage where the recycling is kept and comes back a few minutes later with the magazine in his hand.

Me: "You recycled my Entertainment Weekly! Before I had even read it! You do realize that mail tampering is a federal offense?"

Wally: "Oh Whoopee!" (Said in same tone as neener neener neener.)

Me: "Don't think I won't report you."

I won't really report him. I just enjoy lobbing out idle threats. However this week's issue has a very hot looking Harrison Ford on the cover and I would have been pissed had I missed that.

Tryin’ To be Frugal

So yes I went to Ikea and spent money, but it wasn’t that much and I am feeling buyer’s remorse as I type this. I need to be saving money and cutting back on my spending. Why you say? Three reasons: Reason 1 – I think the Ghetto Bug is dying; Reason 2 – I would someday, hopefully, like to move out of my parents’ house so I won’t feel like quite so much the loser; Reason 3 – I want to attend grad school outside the state I currently reside in. There you have it.

Shoppin'

So the weather was nice for a minute and do you think I spent that minute basking in yummy warmness? HELL NO! I went to Ikea where I could bask in Swedish frugalness. Anyhoo I purchased a clock and a shelving unit for my shizz. I also bought some cute aquatic finger puppets to give to my Squidgy the next time she visits. Right now my sister is frantically trying to potty train my cute Squidgy before she starts pre pre school. All she has managed to do so far is enrage Squidgy so that instead of going on her nice Pottery Barn kids toilet (or whatever fancy brand my sister bought for what basically amounts to a crap receptacle), Squidgy uses the living room floor as her own personal water closet. I have to admit that I would laugh if I were there to see Squidgy squatting in defiance, but only until said squatting took place over my luggage.

Desperately Seeking Gratitude

So Hoshie showed me his mid-term report card and he received all E’s, as in E for Excellent. He had the cutest little grin on his face and I wanted to reward him for his efforts because I feel like I’m still scarred from getting JACK from my family for all my years of scholastic endeavors. So I reached in my purse, pulled out a dollar (I’m not cheap, I’m broke) and placed it in his pasty little hand. Immediately his smiled turned into a scowl and he grumbles, “I wanted a video game.” Apparently the E in citizenship only applies at school.

On another note, Black Project posts will not be as frequent because my family just subscribed to expanded cable and I have me some TV to watch.

OH YEAH!

Yep, I've finally watched these and I love them! If I made one I would want it to be "I'm f**king Jeff Fahey," because he's bitchin.

He's Back!

So I call my sister today and when she answers the phone I can barely hear her because Hoshie is screaming his angry little lungs out in the background. Ladies and gentlemen ... all's right with the world.

Hugs from Hoshie

So I have been remiss in my family visiting duties lately what with all the work and letting my hair return to its natural, hideous color (I call the shade sewer rat). So anyhoo, I finally went to see my sister, otherwise known as she who gave birth to the world's angriest child, and upon entering her house a SMILING Hoshie ran up to me and gave me a big hug. For a second I thought I entered bizarro world where angry Hoshie became happy Hoshie and suddenly I got all excited because if this was bizarro world then dateless Via would suddenly become guy-magnet Via and that has been my dream ever since I spent my prom night watching Doctor Who - alone (for the longest time I thought Tom Baker and that dude from REO Speedwagon were the same person). So anyway I quickly realized that no I had not entered bizarro world because my surly niece, she was still surly (she gets it from me) and Hoshie - he still smelled of cheese rather than beef (I'm assuming that beef is the bizarro equivalent of cheese). True I was disappointed that I would still be spending my Friday nights watching Ghost Whisperer all the while being pissed off because Jennifer Love Hewitt has way better boobs than me, but for the time being I could be happy knowing that my little Hoshie loved me, if only for ten minutes, because after ten minutes he screams in my face and kicks me in the shins.

Chewie? Really?

So here are the latest additions to my assortment of old things. Yes, that is Spongebob and Patrick in the picture. I love Spongebob Squarepants! Anyhoo, I would really like to learn how to put new TV parts in the old TV. I am hoping this is something my brother would like to help me with. He can laugh when I electrocute myself.

Besides collecting more stuff, I visited this website - http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=nickname – and received my Sawyer nickname. I found out about this through another person’s blog. Her nickname was Moonbeam, me, I’m Chewie. Upon learning my nickname my first thought was, “What the ****? That is a nickname for a wookie!” Anyway, I was disgruntled until I put in my friend’s name and she received Pud. Suddenly Chewie didn’t seem so bad.

YEAH MST3K!

So I finished this big project at work and it turned out awesome if I do say so myself. I already have plans for next year's. Is it wrong I get an adrenaline rush thinking about these things? Anyhoo, now I can focus on catching up on MST3K which my wonderful friend, Larry Kroger/Jason Bateman loaned me. I am now totally in the know if someone references the "Torgo school of fondling." I hate to admit this but I have gone out with guys who attended that school. I had to put the hurt on them.

Dealin' With Stuffins

So I have been super busy and haven't had time to post. First off I have been dealing with the aftermath of being rear-ended. SO FUN!!!!! Let me tell you, dealing with residual whiplash and the insurance company has been a horrible, stressful experience. Ughhhhhh! So that is about it. I'm spent, nuff said.

OMG! It's Joel McHale!

So this weekend I went to a comedy club to see none other than Joel McHale from The Soup. He was pee-your-pants funny and I had some beer so I was totally in danger of that. Anyhoo, afterward I had my picture taken with him. I was so excited that when I later looked at the picture, I realized that I looked like someone just jabbed me in the butt with a fork. I had this weird excited yet terribly surprised look like "I can't believe I'm touching The Soup guy!" So I covered my face. Another reason for covering my face is that I like to keep my identity a secret. I have many ex-boyfriends whom I would rather have think I'm dead. My picture on this blog would give my living and breathing away. (I am aware no one reads this blog, but I don't want to risk it.)

Sorry - It's All Good

So I have this habit of apologizing for everything and I mean everything. I walk around in a constant state of penance because of the apparent guilt I feel over breathing air. Anyway, I'm at the store today and I get in the checkout line where I immediately apologize because the purchase will need to be split which means more work for the guy at the register and I feel like an evil, picky shopping bitch who refuses to combine work purchases with personal ones. The guy just smiles and replies, "It's all good." He then starts to ring up my purchases and I place my shopping bag on the counter and apologize because now not only am I the picky shopping bitch but I am also eschewing their fine plastic shopping bags - I am evil, picky, pretentious shopping bitch. He replies with, "It's all good" and I realize that I am an apology whore, throwing out "sorry" at any supposed offense. I need to take a cue from the cashier and instead of punctuating every sentence with a barrage of sorries, I should keep repeating "it's all good" and give up "I'm sorry" all together. I can just see myself now, the next time my klutzy as hell self ends up diving face first into someone's fine china, instead of apologizing profusely, I will smile as big as I can with Royal Doulton embedded in my cheeks and say, "It's all good."

Right On!

So I have some truly super fantastic friends where I work, two of whom brought me back this gorgeous Buddha from China. It is handmade (yes people still make things WITH THEIR HANDS) and I love it. Many many thanks to them for being awesome.




















My teeny Eiffel Tower is behind him. He is visiting Paris - one of us should and it sure isn't going to me - I'M BROKE!

So Awesome

My newest acquisition! I had the highest bid in a silent auction. I think my crazed auction look drove the other bidders away in fear. It is from Indonesia and I love it.

Update on my shizz

So my car may or may not need a new catalytic converter. I am hoping for the may not because I am still very attached to both my kidneys. In between all my car drama I caught a few shows at Sundance. The first show was Be Kind Rewind with the hilarious Jack Black and the man of my dreams - Mos Def. I really enjoyed the snippets where they remade certain films (especially Ghostbusters), but overall I felt the film was all over the map as far as tone and the characters were not fully developed - still - Mos Def is hot. The next film I watched was Smart People. This film was great. Thomas Hayden Church has cornered the market on lovable slackers, although, I have totally seen his pasty butt enough to last me a lifetime. The last film I saw was Transsiberian. Ben Kingsley and Emily Mortimer were fantastic and the scenery made me want to visit Russia. Actually every movie that takes place in Russia fills me with a desire to go there. I love the architecture.

My car is evil - PURE EVIL

My car is broken - again. The check engine light is on and only the dealer seems to know how to reset it so it stays off long enough to pass emissions so I can register the bane of my existence before the end of the month. Problem is, there is only one dealer in the area and they apparently have a monopoly on all things having to do with that demonic little light. So needless to say they basically charge such a large sum of money that I will have to start selling my organs to pay TO TURN OFF THE DAMN LIGHT!!!! This has sent me into a funk because it means more debt and more stress. This car eats all my measly attempts at savings and I am stubborn and refuse to purchase a new one because it is paid off and I am going to ride that mechanized hell beast right into the river Styx! In other words, the engine will have to disintegrate and floor fall off before I will consider going into debt on an automobile again. I am already dealing with a bunch of other debt that I want to get out of the way before accumulating more. My car situation would not be so stressful if I had done my research and realized that the one dealer for this particular make makes an obscene amount of money bleeding every poor sap that walks through their doors dry. Last time I was there I left in tears because I was charged close to $1000 for my repairs. THAT IS WRONG PEOPLE! I really wish that people looked out for each other and not just their bottom line because honestly, it would save me a lot of heartache.

Hannibal Frosty

Here is another photo from my town's Christmas Village. I love this one because of the horrified look on the snowman's face. He just realized that by eating ice cream, he is basically practicing cannibalism. The horror! The horror!

Random Pictures

My sister was given a box of gently used shoes. These shoes were among them. She and I both decided that this particular shade of brown can only be described as "turd."




















If you have ever wondered what happened to that creepy guy from Poltergeist II and III, his body has been lovingly preserved in my town's Christmas Village, complete with young children whose souls he can steal.

In Memoriam

My third grade teacher passed away this week and while it has been a long, long, long time since I was in third grade, I kept in touch with her through the years. She was always one of my favorite teachers. I remember how she taught our class to say the Pledge of Allegiance in Spanish (which I promptly forgot) and how to use poi balls (surprisingly I can still work the poi balls at the same proficiency level I did then, poi ball to the eye and all). I also remember the time she put on a class play about dental health. I wanted to be the tooth fairy who got to wear a beautiful dress and carry a sparkly wand, instead I was cast as the tooth decay witch (an indicator of my life to come). I had to jump out of a box and cackle, only the box was huge and instead of jumping out, I tripped and fell out – onto my face. I did still manage to cackle, because at eight, I was already the consummate professional.

When I was in college I had the opportunity to help her in her class during the break between semesters. I was once again able to show off my mad poi ball skills. I even taught the kids an alternative use for the poi balls – as weapons with which they could bludgeon each other. Working with her I was able to see what I couldn’t see when I was young. I saw how devoted she was to teaching. I saw the effort and time she put into making learning exciting for the kids and I realized that it was because of that effort that she stood out amongst the many teachers in my life. She truly cared about her students and I truly cared about her. She will be greatly missed.

New Year - Now With Extra Cheese!

Yes, I did not post during the holiday break from school and I have a very good reason – I was stuffing myself with cheese, the exotic kind with names you can’t pronounce. Anyhoo, nothing really happened except for when my cute little two year old Squidgy decorated the piano with her feces. My sister said she does that because she lacks tactile stimulation. I think she does it because she knows of all the things she can do to gross someone out, 99% of them involve pooh. In addition to cleaning up after poohcasso, I decided that once again I would not participate in the making of New Year resolutions. I don’t like to tie myself down to anything, I prefer to just go with the flow – good way to reduce stress. That is why, when the piano smells like crap, I can laugh while everyone else freaks out.