weekenDD pickthrough- two Ds for a double dose of posting.

yeah, i was supposed to post that magnificent dr. scholl’s review like 3 days ago, but i just haven’t had a second to get my shit together. as a result, i decided to double post today, so that the weekend pickthrough doesn’t come out on thursday (or not at all- causing my hard farmed links to get stale and sad).

it’s 2:30 in the morning, and i drank a bunch of coke with my silly’s dinner and i can’t sleep… i’m up hanging out on the couch with my dog watching “father of the bride”, so why not post again while i wait for the fried pickles to digest?

um…AWKWARD: the new rules of regifting.

it's a chip & dip. we got two.

so yesterday i wrote a little post about gift cards, and i showed off my sexy little stash of paper and plastic tickets to paradise.  well, last night after i put up the post, i was inspired to take stock of my collection and realized that this xmas, i had received a $50 gift certificate to go see a show at a local theater.  the paper clearly advertised “any show in the 2010-2011 season!”, and it occurred to me that i should probably go to their website and figure out which show i wanted to see in advance, so i didn’t end up having to see driving miss daisy or some other old people shit. so i’m browsing their 2010-2011 shows and i realize…

THEIR 2010-2011 SEASON ENDED ON JANUARY 23RD!

now, i got a lot of shit the last time i complained about bad gifts, and this particular gesture was in essence not entirely different (in terms of thoughtlessness) than giving me a plasti-stone statuette of polar bears. but, there’s just something about realizing that you’ve been regifted  that makes you feel like complete crap! especially when it’s something that you actually want,  and then you realize that it’s expired and that you were essentially gifted a colorful piece of paper that the original recipient didn’t want.  it’s sort of the holiday equivalent of getting punk’d.

but, we live in a culture of constant and unnecessary consumption. every time i go to the goodwill, i think “if the universe never produced another basket for the next 10,000 years, we would still be ok”. at least with a regift,  you’re not directly supporting the avalanche of pointless and unwanted consumer goods that bury us every holiday season.  in theory, regifting is a good idea. so why does it feel so bad?

1. a regift says- “this wasn’t good enough for me, but i’m sure it’ll be fine for you”.

2. an obvious regift makes the recipient feel like they weren’t worthy of you spending any time or money on them.

3. if you don’t want it, there’s a good chance that it kind of sucks.

so keeping these things in mind, i decided to make up my own rules of regifting:

weekend pickthrough- noisy neighbors edition.

so i know that last week i was all promising to squeeze the weekend pickthrough out by friday… but i assure you that i have a totally valid excuse for my failings this week. TOTALLY VALID!  (thought you might be more convinced of the validity if i used all caps). anyway, thursday night i went out with some friends, drank too many ciders, and then rambled home around midnight. at home, i tried shoveling some leftover mexi-mac into my craw for a few minutes, and then promptly passed out on the couch. easily, this could be the end of the story (although drunkenness wouldn’t exactly be as TOTALLY VALID as previously purported).

so i wake up around 2ish and decide that i should probably drag my drunk ass to bed if i’m going to make it to work in 5 hours. teeth brushed. sweatpants on. i hurl myself onto the space foam face down ready to lapse into an immediate coma…. and then i hear it: BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM. what’s that? the endless thumping bass line of my frat-boy cliche next door neighbors? i tried valiantly to let the booze wash over me and cancel out the thumping, but it was too late. i was sobering up, and unless they turned that shit down, i was never going to get to sleep.

so i go downstairs with the intention of gently knocking on their door and calmly letting them know that they are disrespectful assholes who should probably kiss my ass before i kick theirs… but they didn’t answer. i knocked louder. and louder. and eventually resorted to karate kicking the shit out of their door as loud as i possibly could for a good 5 minutes. still, no answer.

i finally went inside and devised the following master plan:

1. write sternly worded note that will effectively elicit guilt, shame, and compliance.

2. tape note to door.

2. emblazon door with the phrase “DOUCHE PALACE” in red lipstick.

4. write note to landlord regarding their inconsiderateness.

the note happened pretty swiftly, but looking for a lipstick that i was willing to ruin took slightly longer that i predicted. armed with tape, a wet & wild coral lipstick, and all the rage that my 5′ 7″ frame is capable of containing, i stomped across the porch to their door.

and then, the guy came out. FUCK. sadly, my plan would never make it past stage 1. also, i was so filled with fury (and booze), that i’m pretty sure i didn’t make much sense while i attempted to rip him a new one. i remember yelling DUDE a lot, and when he apologized, saying something like “GODDAMN RIGHT YOU’RE SORRY”, but the rest is an unfortunate blur.

i was shaking all over when i came inside around 3:15, which resulted in me not heading back to bed until around 4-4:30. seeing as i get up at around 6:45 to get ready for work…. that would equal exactly NOT ENOUGH SLEEP FOR BASIC HUMAN FUNCTION.

so last night after work (and a really big bowl of pasta), i did not pass go, i did not collect $200, i did not write my blog post… i went directly to bed (and slept for about 13 hours). so i’m sorry about the delay, but if you have any formal complaints, you can address them to the douche palace.

this hilarious sweet disorder post is just called “prostitute laundry”, and i think that’s all the introduction you need.

things organized neatly caters to my OCD-ness in the most attractive way possible.

i’m buying this book for everyone on my xmas list. and if you’re lucky, i’ll likely host an ill conceived giveaway so that you can have a chance to get one too.

let’s all leave little presents for strangers.

of all the mad-men spinoff websites that have emerged, this one is BY FAR my favorite.

the always amazing elisa doucette shares her dirty ex-stalking secrets, and helps us break the habit with EX BLOCKER.

i’m not sure whether designing speed bumps that look like small children is utter brilliance or a soon to be tragic mistake.

name brand foods are totally worth it if you coupon the shit out of them. too bad nobody told slashfood about that.

my child rescued the princess with no warp pipes (i don’t even have kids, and i demand that these stickers get made).

why are the really boring things on antiques roadshow always the most valuable? where are ben franklin’s anal beads or the left toe of hunter s. thompson?

new addition to the local blogroll! sort of webcomic meets fitness chronicle meets me almost peeing on myself with laughter.

weekend pickthrough- red hot and boozy edition.

so, i finally got my “i’m on a boat” badge on foursquare this weekend, and i definitely EARNED that shit. this past friday, red hot and ladylike was having a saucy benefit booze cruise, that involved me throwing on some hot pants and shakin it on a boat to top 40 til the wee hours (ok, like 10:30). sure, i got hit on by marginally creepy dudes old enough to be my dad. and sure, there was one drunk couple that i was pretty positive was actually doing the horizontal monster mash on the dance floor. but i forgot how much fun it is to get shitty on champagne and go dance with the lady friends. and dancing on a boat- TOTALLY AMAZING. the casablanca appears to have regular cruises with live music or djs all summer long (at very reasonable rates). and lemmie just tell you, there is nothing else like pulling into portland harbor while you’re crazy dancin’ in your underpants to “got your money”. ODB would be proud. (word)

the subtle intricacies of prison hooch (you just need to round up a little grape juice, a dirty sock, some moldy bread, and a toilet).

the portland press herald and i are having an argument. does this guinea pig look more stressed out, or more concerned?

25 free songs from urban outfitters (most of which don’t suck)! finally, some free downloads that aren’t christian audiobooks (now that’s a miracle).

there’s no crying in the break room. i need to hire my own joan holloway to make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.

the adorable and clever @aubinthomas has started a new blog to help preserve the memory of fine graffiti before some jackoff with a bucket of beige paint decides he wants to clean up the town.

$555,000 in student loan debt? sallie mae needs to back the fuck off.

for all you meat-a-vores out there, that fat guy from portland food coma takes you on a BBQ tour of maine. now somebody needs to generate me some passable faux pulled pork, or i am gonna LOSE IT.

sweathogs.

my body is not equipped for high temperature regulation.  thus, over the last two weeks of MOTHERFUCKING RIDICULOUS HEAT, i have been a little wilted. and by a little wilted, i mean possibly suffering from heat stroke. why just saturday afternoon after sizzling in the summer sun as amplified by the heat coming off the generators and fryolators  at the yarmouth clam festival carnival, i passed out on the couch in a stupor. this would be an otherwise unremarkable event (as i am often passed out in a stupor from various causes ranging from sleep deprivation to excessive champagne consumption), but the boyfriend foolishly handed my partially conscious self a glass of ice water, which i then proceeded to dump all over both my crotch and my couch as i lapsed into complete unconsciousness  (which was brief on account of the ice crotch).

point being, it’s hot, and i’m no good at it.  in my other life at part time vagabond, i was just writing about (as part of my article about how to make stay-cations less suck-cations) how maine is not really an AC state. it’s cold here most of the time, and foolish things like central air just don’t make sense. window units are somewhat more sensible, but not if you can already barely afford to pay your electric bill.  buying an expensive piece of equipment that will make said electric bill even less manageable, isn’t really an option.  also not an option, putting an air conditioner in a room where the only window is a skylight (stupid sweaty 3rd floor condo). so not only is it hot, but there isn’t a whole hell of a lot i can do about it:

1. build up a cross breeze- my place is really not very well ventilated. 2nd & 3rd story with slanty ceilings and oddly placed windows, i’ve got to get at least 2 box fans going in combination with opening every window in the house. the major downside to this is that not all of my windows have screens, and after sundown, throngs of angry mosquitoes flock to my light sources and cover me in itchiness. it’s exactly like camping without actually camping.

2. cozy up to a cold pack- yeah, i’ve been sitting on those freezer packs that you put in the mini cooler with your juice boxes and tiny yogurts. as it turns out, they’re just as good at keeping my juiceboxes cool. although, unless you wrap it up in a towel first, you are in danger of getting some frostbite on your cooch. not cute.

3. make some popsicles-  when it’s soul meltingly hot outside, sometimes even ice cream is too heavy to be refreshing.  popsicles (take it. break it. share it. love it.) on the other hand, are perfection. kate over at the blueberry files inspired me to make some sophisticated adult popsicles, but all i bothered to do was freeze some limeade into ice cubes and throw it in my tequila. as it turns out, heavy drinking is not good for dehydration. maybe i should have just dug up my old snoopy sno-cone machine.

4. embrace the power of chiffon- what i hate about the heat is that there is only so much you can take off before you have to start peeling off your own skin. but even when naked seems like a good idea, i still don’t have curtains on my downstairs windows, and i don’t really feel like subjecting my neighbors to such horrors. zsa zsa knows best, so i found myself some frilly chiffon numbers that cover up most of the unfortunate bits, while still being almost as light as nothing at all.

5. escape to the mall– at the most dire of times, i often escape to target or the mall. basically, anywhere with AC and a starbucks. it’s not glamourous, and it’s not even the beach, but sometimes it’s nice to seal yourself into a windowless box and forget about the smelly sweatworld outside.

yeah, this list is pretty sad. that’s why this is the part where you tell me what humiliating things you’ve been doing to stay cool, so i can feel less bad about myself.