Friday, December 30, 2011


It was the day after Christmas and the scene in my family's den was my sister and I on opposite side of the room on our laptops both on Pinterest, pinning things and showing them to each other. Due to the expense burden of the holidays and the fact that I love a good internet time suck, I have spent more time than usual learning to make fun things on Pinterest.  For those who have not yet discovered the networking/do it yourself site, it's amazing and makes me feel like Martha Stewart, which I certainly am not. [Tangent: Its the adult equivalent of kindergarten. You get a set of instructions and suddenly you are making a gingerbread house out of graham crackers and an empty Jungle Juice carton.]  After creating several idea pin boards, I felt I could sit idle no longer and I needed to harness this inspiration and create. Next thing you know I am turning over the Christmas decor so I can make a faux enamel broach out of pine cones and nail polish. [Tangent: I wish I was kidding....I am not. It seemed like a good idea at the time and I had all the makings of this seemingly simple craft...who cares that it would likely look like something shoddily slapped together by a small child. I WAS TRYING TO INVEST IN PINTEREST.]

After being unable to pull the pine cone petals off without them cracking and giving me splinters, I gave up, realizing I would never wear it anyway. I still felt good about my lofty aspirational crafts, including everything from refinishing furniture to planning weddings [Tangent: Both of these things I have no business doing.] I'm somewhat thankful Pinterest was not "a thing" when I was in college and had ample amounts of downtime and access to junk to "snazz." It was during this time in my life when I should have majored in undergoing huge projects and then giving up halfway through. 

Ex: About 6 years ago, I saw a bottle cap fish on display at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital 

Without any intended space to put this monstrosity or anyone to give it to, I thought, "huh, I could make that." so I started collecting grotesque amounts of caps. [Tangent: Not so much because I was an alcoholic but because I was a college student who had several friends that were bartenders and wished to support my delusional craftiness.] Long story short, I never made the giant beer fish [Tangent: ...not that I am writing it off as a future project.] but I used up some of those thousands of caps using a little ingenuity and caulk I made some thrifty Christmas presents. [Tangent: hehehe. Caulk. I am clearly 12 because I made caulk jokes during the whole craft day.]

I mean, who doesn't need a classy beer cap coaster, featuring even now defunct brands like Aspen Edge? Promoting drinking and furniture preservation simultaneously. Win/win! 

Thursday, December 29, 2011

role models: armenian edition

The other day I was on the phone with my brother in California and somehow we began discussing the Kardashians [Tangent: Seriously....this is going to be blog #189873873 that somehow mentions that family. I am not proud.] and the general Armenian opinion of them within the culture. [Tangent: Somehow I made that sound like not a ridiculous shallow topic. Amazing.] This is not completely out of nowhere, my sister-in-law is Armenian and they live outside of Glendale, CA, which may as well be called Armenia Jr. Also, I kinda think this cultural immersion has made my blonde haired, blue eyed brother feel like he is Armenian, by association. She has told me before the opinion is split, some like them are fans because they are a face of their culture....others would rather people wonder "what's an Armenian?" then somehow pin their hopes and dreams on a runaway bride famous for a big ass and a sex tape [Tangent: The truth hurts.]

Being that I am an Aunt now to a nearly one month old half Armenian baby girl, I decided I wanted my niece, Ellie, to have alternative Armenian icons to look up to besides  these folks:

Everyday I like to have a "google goal" something that I periodically research to keep my mind sane at work on breaks between batches of workman's compensation bills. Yesterday, my goal was : Noteable Armenians. [Tangent: AKA- potential role models for Ellie.] Here were my findings:

Jack Kavorkian

Steve Jobs
Princess Diana (1/64 Armenian)

Andre Agassi

Seymour skinner on The Simpsons*
(Bart and Lisa's Principal on the "Simpson's". On one episode he relates he is not actually Seymour Skinner, but actually Armin Tamzarian. The town decides to never discuss his dark past again...but apparently according to Wiki, he's Armenian.)

I will let Ellie decide which path she would like to follow in. In my heart of hearts, I hope its Raffi (with Agassi hair and Cher's Bob Mackie hookup)...

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

my ears are now lowered...a lot

"She had hair so long that it looked like weave
Then she cut it all off, now she look like Eve"
-Kanye West

OK, so I may not look like Eve, not even to someone with severe glaucoma, but as of today I no longer resemble a devout pentecostal woman. [Tangent: Prior to today, my hair was so long that it nearly hit me in the buttocks. Aside from stringent religious doctrine, there seemed to be no other excuse for my Howard Hughs-ian neglect of hair maintenance, even though there was.] Born and raised rockin' short haircuts, a couple years ago, I began growing it out for a friend's wedding and after the nuptuals just decided to keep going. This pixie cut below [Tangent: Also referred to by my boss as "your boy hair"] was my hairstyle as of January of 2009, when the boyishness of it drove me to grow out my ridiculous locks and in the process made me realize that long hair isn't for me
this was the Paul McCartney phase. I looked like a British man.
During the grow out stages....I braided. I flat-ironed. I high ponied. I side ponied. I mostly sloppy half-assedly ponied to mask dirty locks...all the while knowing the end point was going to be a mass chopping and donation to someone who needed it more than my vain self.  After researching several, I decided to go with Pantene's Beautiful Lengths programs.  Unlike some similar avenues of hair donation, this one assured me that my hair would go to my baldie cancer friends, and not unintended parties. [Tangents: like drag queens or doggie toupees.] 

that just looks there are animals dwelling in it.

tempted to just keep it and leave it on coffee a conversation piece

This morning I was more excited than I was on both my birthday or Christmas morning...I would finally be free of this burdensome hair that likes to infiltrate all my black clothing and my spaghetti. Bye Bye gross long hair. You were fun while you lasted, but now I have a cute new hair cut....a haircute!*

*Now I kinda wanna do it again...I want my hair to be on bald heads everywhere. I can be a hair farmer. 

Thursday, December 22, 2011

such a card

Every year I get excited to do a Christmas card. Since becoming an adult [i.e. graduating college] its something I put a lot of thought into and really enjoy doing. [Tangent: Thank heavens for my half-assed photoshop skills which allow me to make my twisted dreams a reality. To all my graphic designer friends, don't call my shoddy skills out. I am grossly out of practice and my usage of the program is almost exclusively putting my face on other people's bodies.] Anyway, in 2011, I had lofty goals for creating an amazing Christmas card, but ran out of time and funds for such a project. Stamps be expensive. Completely bummed because I had a plan,  I opted to "go green" with my holiday correspondence. [Tangent: That's what companies call it when they are being cheap and/or lazy so decide to do everything electronically, so I figure that I should adopt this ecological jargon as to not tarnish my sparkling reputation.] True... it's impersonal and I love the idea of getting a card in the mail, but desperate times come for desperate measures, so I give you my card for 2011, followed by the history of my photoshop cards.
This card was inspired by this website: everything's better with laser backgrounds
I've always wanted my face in a brandy snifter...nothing classier

this is probably my favorite.

this was the result of me having A LOT of time on my hands.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

kia souls can suck it.

I try to remain fairly laid back and level headed, but sometimes things build and transpire in such a way that my 87 lb frame gets fueled with Hulk rage and my feel my green skin might just bust out of my purple jorts [Tangent: I never understood why the hulk wore purple pants. Where was he going with that look? If he was going to a theme night at a gay club, I am slightly less threatened by his rage, but maybe not...I know some scappy gay men.] Today was one of those days.

Its reached that time of year where ordering gifts online [aka the smart way to shop] is no longer an option, so the masses have lost their senses of right, wrong or intelligence to nab that last bath and body works gift set or travel coffee mug. I'm over it. [Tangent: This post is going to slightly contradict my fabulous guest blogger's post about the benefits of being a cripple at Christmas, but realize my day was the exception to the rule.] After sitting in dreary rain soaked traffic for 30 minutes to go less than two miles, I arrived at Target before 4 pm on a weekday hoping to make a return, find an item for a gift and get home so I could feed my hungry belly and regain my sanity before the 5 pm traffic shit storm befell my fair city.

Unfortunately, my plan was foiled by a Kia Soul made more obnoxious because it was festooned with reindeer antlers [Tangent: Prior to the following experience I have seen nothing wrong with the car antlers, lumping them together with vanity plates and suction cup Garfields as things that are not for everybody. However,  this Kia Soul has now ruined the festive window decor for the lot of you. Thanks, ass!] After not finding the items I needed in the Target, I left frustrated only to find the following parking scenario: The Kia Soul had created a parking space for itself with the leftover room in my handicapped space. [Tangent: I park very judiciously and kiss the curb with my wheels every time to allow ample room to let my ramp down and get out of my vehicle. This economic parking job is not to allow lazy people to shove their mini SUVs into my leftover space to avoid circling the lot. The vehicle was wedged in so tightly, I can only assume he exited his car via sunroof.] This, of course, made it impossible to get back inside my vehicle, until he moved.
I had to draw a diagram because my phone was dying and I was unable to photograph it.
I was all alone, so of course I went a bit ape shit and looked more than mildly insane. Every ounce of my being wanted to find that Kia Soul driver and pull his spinal cord out of his body like a character on Mortal Kombat, ensuring that he would then need a wheelchair and understand my plight. Knowing that the owner of the asshole Kia Soul was slightly thoughtless, so likely had a lot of last minute shopping to do and would probably be Targeting for an indeterminate amount of time- I decided to go to the authorities, aka guest services.

The 19- year-old guest services associate that I discussed my issue with got very heated on my behalf, threatening to call the cops on them, and then confided in me that sometimes she uses the handicapped bathroom stall. [Tangent: Oddly enough, she is not the first to confess this with a look of guilt. I am OK with it. If you gotta go, you gotta go. Just don't use it as your "poop stall" because it has more leg room. I find that offensive.] Apparently this was the highlight of her day, because she seemed hell bent on helping me. After expressing her rage, she got on the overhead paging system to ask the Kia Soul driving bastard bastard to move their car, but it was to no avail. I waited by the door nervously eating my Reese's minis and cursing my phone for running outta batteries. [Tangent: I had some heated Words With Friends games in progress that would surely take my mind off my exasperation and my rumbling tummy.]

I then saw the lights flash on in the rogue Kia Soul, meaning vengeance was about to rain down. [Tangent: I didn't even see the guy go back outside to his car, so I didn't see how he was able to squeeze back in. I can only assume he traveled like Alex Mac used to.] Almost running over several small screaming children with my wheelchair, I bolted back out to my vehicle, so the driver could see me by my van and catch the wrath of my stink eye [Tangent: Yeah...I know...a stink eye is the best I can do. I am a lady.]. As he backed out of his my space, I lowered my van ramp and stared down his rudolph nosed front fender so he could adequately feel like a jerk for the rest of the day. Not cool, Kia Soul. Not cool.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

charitable bearding- I am a fan

If there are two things I love, It's charitable giving and gents with facial hair. [Tangent: I don't make a secret of this. I devoted an entire blog to the subject of pogonology.]  In the past, these two loves were mutually exclusive, but it seems someone was reading my diary and decided that these two joyous entities needed to mesh together.

Apparently its bro code that when weather turns chilly, if you are capable of growing a swarthy beard, you do it- usually this is the late fall. [Tangent: Probably reason #223984273 that the fall is my favorite time of year.] I imagine that if I were born male, I too, would do this. It just seems practical to grow your own ski mask.
If you aren't a moustachey fella and missed the Movember festivities, I encourage you to support Cancer and facial hair in another way. A fella named Andrew who formerly represented on the growing and showing biannual website Whiskerino [Tangent: This site was open to any fella that wanted to shave their face clean on November 1st and not touch it again, even the dreaded neck beard, until the final day of February. Each day a thematic picture was taken to show the progression of growth, from squeaky clean to questionably homeless. This original site was the brainchild of Nashvillians so I have additional reason to have pride in my city.] decided he wasn't ready to hang up his beard even though the official site had decided that 2009/2010 was going to be its swan song. To keep the fraternity of bearding going, he launched which asked that each person not only commit to 4 months of growth, but also a donation of $50 to help fight Leukemia and Lymphoma. The rules are a bit looser than the original Whiskerino, like you don't have to post every day and some bearders didn't start with a completely clean canvas. [Tangent: It's kind of like a golf classic where men are dragged out of retirement to putt around for a good cause. Growing whiskers and taking crazy pictures of them, although less orthodox, is markedly more interesting, but I never was a golf fan.]

Because I am a fan of fighting Cancer [Tangent: I mean who isn't?] and seeing my fella have a burly ginger beard, I was thrilled when he signed up to participate. [Tangent: He jumps at any excuse to take ridiculous pictures of himself. Its a win/win for all involved.] Not even two months in, can't imagine what dark turn this red monstrosity is gonna take. I'm excited. Have I mentioned I enjoy a good beard?


Anyway- the point of this blog is the following: What if you can't grow facial hair either by weak genetics or pressense of vagina, but would like to help.  The website has already raised $888, but wouldn't it be a nice to help them reach $1000 by the end of the year? You don't have to grow a beard to help.

Just go to this website :

Give a bit...just a few dollars to help them reach their goal. I mean both Santa and Jesus both had pretty amazing beards, that's all I've got to say.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

red red rampage

from my new favorite website : sketchy santas

Santa Rampage is a ridiculous parade of Santas down the streets of downtown Nashville, beginning at the Beer Seller/Cellar [Tangent: I have been there upwards of 10 times, and still cannot tell you which it is... and apparently I am too lazy to google. Both are's downstairs and it sells beer. Homophones with Southern accents confound me.] and leading to any bar that is not charging a cover and that offers free drink specials to those donning red caps. This is my third year rampaging and spreading cheer throughout the streets with other fools in St. Nick get ups, either homespun or store bought. [Tangent: BTW- I had no inkling how many naughty Mrs. Claus costumes were on the market. The variations were both upsetting and impressive. Thigh highs and well placed fur can have many incarnations.]

she looks cold.
Most bought a Santa a suit [Tangent: But once the $19.99 Party City suits sell out, it seems quite an investment to chalk up $50 for a once a year that may lead to questions when someone sees it hanging in your closet.] and others made their own out of things in their own home. This is the avenue I always take. Although, I can appreciate a very impresesive light up faux fur lined red luxury Santa Suit, I wanted to use my mermaid tail from Halloween again [Tangent: I really felt it deserved a large 300 drunken Santas. Aside from the confusion we got from some people, I got a lot of high fives and compliments, including one young drunken co-ed who professed her undying devotion to mermaids. "I love them...I have like mermaid quotes all over my bathroom." mermaid quotes?].

Each year, the ridiculous gets cranked up to 11.  This year there was a Santa brass band that followed us around and made me smile every time I heard it in the distance. Besides ballyhoo, the overwhelming theme is joy. Every Santa is the nicest person you will ever meet, and the camaraderie is ridiculous. High fives and shouts of "SANTAAAAAAAA!" are not at all uncommon. Basically, this is how Christmas should be. Slutty reindeer and Asian Santas in rice picker hats - this is what all those carols are singin' about.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

a guest blogger?!?! crippled christmas with chloe

Yesterday I realized my blog had reached a milestone- this blog marks my 101st blog entry [Tangent: I know...I know...I'm a bit late, but I am really proud of sticking with something for long enough to reach 101 of something.]

 To celebrate, I am am embracing my favorite deadly sin, sloth, and letting someone else do the legwork [Tangent: Pun shamelessly intended.]. Laziness is something that I exceed at, and since I have to get ready for Santa Rampage (a blog post in the making.), I decided I was gonna hand off the reigns to a dum dum dum...GUEST BLOGGER.

A little downlow on this stranger who is bogarting my blog post today. Her name is Chloe. She's from Florida. She has NF. She writes for the hilarious blog Talk About Pop! with Chloe Dinnerrolly. I have never met her. [Tangent: I know this all sounds sketch as hell, but stay with me. She is a friend of my friend Alex, and we mutually enjoy each other's blog so facebook friendship ensued. Not so weird.] Since she is a newcomer to the wheeled lifestyle, she and I have a lot to chat about. Anyway, here is her take on the holidays...take it away Chloe.

Tis The Season To Be Cripple
By Chloe Dinnerrolly (that other girl in the wheelchair)

Ah, the Holidays are amongst us! A time for cutting down trees, maxing out credit cards, putting the tapeworm diet on hold, and chilly cold fronts brewing across the nation, providing American women a good enough excuse not to shave their legs for months. (They’re hibernating!) However, the best thing about this time of year isn’t “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” playing on the radio every hour, but the speed pass that dangles on my rearview mirror granting access to that first available spot of the crowded parking lot during Dollar General’s Christmas extravaganza sale.

Yes, be jealous! Have fun hiking the hour-long, SUV packed forest in front of busy stores this holiday season. With my super-duper handicap sticker, I’ll just cruise my way in, grab 10 cans of Teen Spirit deodorant (for Mom’s gift) and go! You’ll still be heading for the entrance while I’m already off at Taco Bell’s drive-thru window, having my own pre-festivus fiesta. Feliz Navidad, indeed. A ring-a-ding-ding.

Normies always take their leggy-abilities for granted; running around, swimming laps, and dancing the Tootsie Roll while listening to Lionel Richie tunes. Never do they stop to think about what life is like for the handicapped peeps in 2 wheelers and the hassles of limited mobility, until now, when the hassle becomes an advantage, as we zoom past you through Walmart’s Winter Wonderland checkout’s lane. It’s Christmastime: Rise Of The Crips!

Dontcha wish your girlfriend had a wheelchair like me? The benefits of a disability are pretty sweet. It’s not laziness; it’s a luxury.

Even Santa wishes he had his own holiday hotrod to easily roll around in. Poor guy has it tough; working overtime in the cold on a holiday, while his friends have long retired, living it up skinny-dipping in the North Pole Retirement Center hot tub.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…to be me and Kimmie

Friday, December 9, 2011

21st century girl

Pardon the cheesiness of this blog title, but it seems appropriate even though it shares it's name with a terrible Willow Smith song that I heard on Ellen the other day. [Tangent: I am not proud that I know more than one song by the 11-year-old who looks like a shrinky dinked version of her dad with a hip hop haircut. I am less proud that I just youtubed the music video for it, which I posted below because I giggled the whole time I watched it. I urge you to watch it for yourself and question how many thousands of dollars went into its production. Post apocalyptic children scampering around the Sahara in neon clothes talking about taking you for a ride, presumably in a Power Wheels. All good clean fun.

I've held the title of aunt for exactly 8 days, and I can attest that its been enjoyable. Obnoxiousness has kicked up into overdrive; my cubicle is now decorated with Ellie, everyone I can pin into a corner has watched the video and photos I have of her and I cannot stop buying her ridiculous baby things like witty phrase onesies and tutus [Tangent: Being that I am not the hugest fan of baby tutus, I am quite shocked with that turn of events. Previously I had thought babies that can barely stand look a little out of place in ballet regalia, but I have since changed my tune. I fully acknowledge when I am wrong. Yes, they are still ridiculous, but I don't care....I want my niece to have one, so one day she can blog (or whatever they will do in the future) about the crazy things she wore in the '10s.].

Baby Ellie needs this...

....and this.

not my niece, but wearing the ridiculous baby adornments like this one from that are so hot right now.
Since by brother and sis in law live on the opposite side of the country,  I haven't gotten to hold and snuggle that little chubby bundle of cute, so I must rely on technology. It's a strange thing to love some stranger that you have never met, and know they will be somehow bound to you. Cell phones, skype and emails have made this time so much easier. Everyday, sometimes upon request, I get a new picture and/or video. Thankfully, she is amazingly photogenic [Tangent: Already, a pro at smizing, or smiling with her eyes in Tyra Banks speak.] so I feel like this will be a lifelong thing. Via skype, I've even witnessed my brother change her diaper. [Tangent: As an aunt, its important I keep up with her bowel habits. That doesn't seem invasive at all.] I have no concept of how difficult this would have been even 20 year ago. Would my brother have to snail mail me a film strip of baby Ellie? [Tangent: I can just visualize me sitting behind the projecter and trying to coordinate the audio on the tape deck with the slides. BEEP!]

So long story short, I feel very thanful to have access to smart phone and webcams and everything that eases communication between me and sweet baby Ellie, but its unfair that I am the only one that gets to behold the beauty that is my niece. Here, I'll share...

love this face.

I imagine she was freaked out to have a lamb staring her in the face when she woke up. Its scary enough to not be in a warm dark baby hot tub anymore.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

hoppin' like a flea

I didn't buy this at Porter Flea, nor was it available, but I hope its demonic stare will make you read this blog.

I consider myself very lucky sometimes that my boyfriend truly enjoys the same things I do and that he will be the first to suggest going to a festival, craft fair or vintage store. If I had to feign interest in ultimate fighting or hillbilly hand fishing, [Tangent: Yes, its a thing and it makes me uncomfortable.] some of our common ground would cave in a bit.  Last weekend, we checked out the Porter Flea Market in Hipstertown (aka East Nashville). The term "flea market"   generally summons images of tables of compression socks, Avon lotions and $1 VHS tapes, but its a bit of a misnomer in this case. This was less of a flea market and more of a vintage and crafts fair featuring amazing local artists.

my mom always flips over these.

Because it is holly jolly holiday time, and as of last weekend I had bought nada [Tangent: I have since nearly finished buying on two websites in under an hour. High five for no galleria interaction and minimal effort with optimal thoughtfulness!], I entered Porter Flea with $60 cash and the intention of buying Christmas presents. I came out with 1 gift for my friend Alicia's daughter [Tangent: Potentially the easiest person to buy gifts for because on the inside, I, too, am a seven year old girl.] and several things that I just had to have. Conclusions: I am either insanely selfish or very easy to buy gifts for. To protect my rep, I claim the latter.

My boyfriend had gone to the previous Porter Flea over the summer, after being lured there by the Pizza Buds food truck, parked nearby, and visions of brown sugarry crusts dancing in his head. He came out of it with some vintage whiskey glasses and a cool space collage brag-worthy enough to make me anticipate going to this one. Disappoint- it did not. The room was set up like a hipster science fair, each table luring me in some weird eye-catching handicraft, that I felt I needed in my life.

Here are some of my purchases that I hope will inspire you to check out the next one. [Tangent: I always wished I was cool enough to helm a fashion or style blog, but unfortunately, I am not that stylish (unless you consider a Kohl's/Old Navy/Target/Goodwill wardrobe cutting edge). No one would read it. This is my lukewarm attempt to live out that fantasy.]

Nifty Gifties by This Tiny Life.

I bought these earrings for my friend's daughter. I thought they made a great "big girl" gift. Trust if I still had my ears pierced, I would have several pairs as well. [Tangent: I have gotten them done about 5 times in my life, they always heal back together if I keep them out longer than a day or two, so I have thrown in the towel on cranial adornments.] Thanks natural healing mechanism for keeping me from more impulse purchasing.

Thankfully, they also had these cute little mini broaches, and I never met a bow motif that I didn't like.

Gorgeousness by Marisol Spoon.

I'm a raging dork [Tangent: I know, you're shocked!], so I pre-gamed the Porter Flea by checking out the vendors on the website beforehand. As soon as I saw this image on the website, I instantly fell in love:
It reminded me very much of Margaret Keane and her big eyed kitchy prints in the 70s. For some reason, I was butt-crazy obsessed with her semi-eerie artwork when I was in high school [Tangent: Totally normal for a teenage girl, I promise.] These Marisol Spoon images were reminiscent of Keane's but a teench less creepy. I opted not to buy the above print because it didn't agree with my budget, and I instead got these which I am still looking for a home for. If you are crafty, I am open to suggestions.

More Avett Stuff by Boss Construction.

Fact: I only have one room to decorate and have nary a speck of space on my walls, but consistently find myself buying prints and photos and objects to hang. In my idealistic dream world,  in hopefully the not too distant future, I will have a place of my own with maybe an office where I can hang the various Hatch Prints and old art projects that deserve some real estate of their own. Either that, or I am gonna start pimping out my cubicle. Here is one more I added to the pile Saturday.
We all know that I can't turn things down when it comes to anything Avett. [Tangent: Also, I enjoy the idea of a banjo gun. It makes me much more supportive of the second amendment.]
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