the Hippo Brigade

#7. Thank someone

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October 6, 2010

I want to thank you, kind people, for reading my blog.

You don’t have to. But you do.

You can be doing all sorts of other things like teaching your children invaluable lessons, or making a donation to a third world country, or penning a poem for your grandma. But you’re not. Instead you check in with my musings everyday. And for that I’m forever grateful.

Why you do it, I’m not quite sure.

Maybe you want to make fun of me. Like when you go to the zoo and you see a man lemur with gigantic ta-tas, and you think WOAH! Look at the man-boobies on that lemur. Damn.

Or it’s because you’re hoping that one of these days I’m going to say something prolific, and you want to make sure you have a front-row seat (Well, let me save you the intrigue, I’m probably not going to say anything prolific).

Or perhaps it’s because you’re related to me, or you’re my best friend, or you’re my mom, and you’ll read anything I write. Because you love me unconditionally, and you’re willing to overlook the occasional irreverence and constant boobie and fart jokes.

Or maybe, just maybe it’s because you really like me.

Oh the joy, the rainbow of sparkly joy, if this is true.

Well whatever reason it is, thank you. I appreciate you.

#8. Stop interrupting people

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October 6, 2010

Turns out when some one’s trying to tell you something, they don’t like it if you interrupt them.

Even if you think what you have to say is super important.

Even if they’re all, “So, I’m really sad because I just found out that my mom might have breast canc–”

And you go, “OH! SPEAKING OF BOOBS!! I JUST REMEMBERED!!! I have to tell you about this! I was taking a yoga class with Justine Pickering. You remember her, right? She’s the one who allegedly flirted with your husband at that Christmas party last year. And she has weird boobs. Like one’s all up here, and one’s down here. It’s like heeello botched boob job much? Mental note: don’t ask her for a doctor referral. Anyways, we were doing happy cow pose and she totally farted! That’s hilarious right? You’re not laughing. Anyways, what where you saying?”

But I have this really bad habit of interrupting people. Especially with my girl friends. It’s basically how we communicate. Our conversations is just a series of interruptions. But when I do it, I’m really saying, I don’t really care what you’re talking about, and what I have to say is way-more-mega-important.

So I’m going to try to stop doing that.

It’s a bad habit.

What kinds of bad habits do you have?

#9. Learn something from a friend

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October 5, 2010

I have this friend called Melinda:

She’s good with the drawling and painting:

So I was all, “You should teach me something.”

And she was all, “Oooh I know! We should draw your face! We can do self-portraits, It will be fun!”

And I was all, “My face? Okay, but only if I can make this face.” and then I snarled my nose and sucked in my cheeks and made my lips all wrinkly.

And she was all, “No thank you, Beckey.”

But then she agreed, because she’s cool like that.

She taught me how to draw with shadows and proportion.

Which is good because when I draw it’s usually just caterpillars and princess castles with sidewalk chalk. And I don’t do much shading with my princess castles.

Although it looks nothing like me, it’s not half-bad.

It turned out pretty great, and I really didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
So, way to go Melinda and your awesome art lesson!

And thanks for the fun day, and making me a sandwich.

I really liked the sandwich.

#10. Guerilla Gardening

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October 4, 2010

Guerilla gardening is when you find a sad patch of land, and plant things there. It’s kinda risky, because technically it could be illegal. But what crazy cop is going to arrest someone for making something more beautiful?

That’s why I did my gurellaing at night. With my entire family. Because who would harass me when I had someone as cute as Berlyn helping me out?

Since I was low on both funds and time, I just planted seeds. I suppose I could have planted flowers and shrubs, but I didn’t.

I’m a half-assed Gardner.

But I’m really excited because I’m almost positive this is what it’s going to look like in a few weeks:

#11. 30 Years of Music

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October 4, 2010

Here’s one of my favorite songs for every year that I’ve been alive,

1980 Heartbreaker, Pat Benatar

1981 Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes

1982 Tainted Love, Soft Cell

1983 The Safety Dance, Men Without Hats

1984 99 Luftballons, Nena

1985 Like a Virgin, Madonna

1986 Manic Monday, Bangles

1987 With or Without You, U2

1988 Red Red Wine, UB40

1989 Love Song, The Cure

1990 Nothing Compares 2 U, Sinead O’Connor

1991 Losing My Religion, R.E.M

1992 Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana

1993 Ordinary World, Duran Duran

1994 Cornflake girl, Tori Amos

1995 Fake Plastic Trees, Radiohead

1996 1979, Smashing Pumpkins

1997 You Were Meant for Me, Jewel

1998 I’ll be missing You Puff Daddy & The Family

1999 Adams song Blink 182

2000 It’s Not Up to You, Bjork

2001 Space Between, Dave Matthews Band

2002  The Cat Song, Jason Mraz

2003 The District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Postal Service

2004 Trouble, Ray LaMontagne

2005 Slow Motion, David Gray

2006 9 Crimes Damien Rice

2007 Be Be Your Love, Rachael Yamagata

2008 Something is not Right with Me, Cold War Kids

2009 Chains, Chains, Chains, Elvis Perkins

2010 Beach Baby, Bon Iver

Care to add your favorites?

This is not an absolutely complete list, because obviously I’ve left out Shoop by Salt N’ Pepa, and The Thong Song by Sisqo

#12. Pasta

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October 4, 2010

People make pasta all the time.

They painstakingly roll it out.

And cut it.

And get flour all over their floors.

I, however, make a pot of boiling water and dump in a box of Barilla.

Because I’m smart. Or lazy. Or boring, or, well, let’s go with smart.

I got a arsenal of pasta products a few years ago for Christmas. And at the time, I was all “SWEET MARY!! I’m going to make pasta every frickin’ day of my life!” And then I threw in an always inappropriate BOO YA! and gestured to my pelvic area, and then I started gyrating and shaking uncontrollably because I really wanted to make the gift giver feel special. I’m a super great gift receiver. Go ahead, buy me a gift and watch how awesomely I react. It’s amazing. If I end up on the floor rolling around like I have ants all over me, you know it was pretty much the best gift EV-AH!

But instead of making pasta every day of my life, I put it in the cabinet above my fridge and forgot all about it. Because who has the time to make fresh pasta every day??

Not me.

In an effort to try new things, I decided to pull the thing out and give it a go.

It was actually pretty easy. Except for the giganticasaurus rex mess it created. I didn’t much care for the mess.

But I felt pretty professional when I made a well out of flour and cracked the eggs in there.

Then I rolled it out. And Berlyn was the project manager. This was actually a fun thing to do with her, she liked catching the rolled out pasta and turning the knob.

But because, Hi, my name is Beckey, and I’m a control-a-holic, I thought it would be best if I handled it all. Plus, it was fun for me. WEEE!! Look at me go!!

I also made a garlic infused roasted chicken,

and caramelized onions and a white wine cream sauce.

Dinner was yummy.

#13. Paint

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October 3, 2010

Painting is supposed to be therapeutic. And I’m all about the therapy.

Or maybe I just like the idea of therapy.

Because I never really go to therapy.

It smells like clinical leather ottomans and rouge farts, and the carpet is always wrong for the space, and you’re supposed to be digging up tragic instances in your life where you knew you were destined for failure, but all you keep thinking is that gold frames can be so gaudy, but put that same frame in an Anthropologie catalogue, and BAM! It’s amazing, and you want three to put in your hallway so you can frame 3 different black and white moody photos of your dog.

So, I avoid therapy.

But things that are therapeutic are welcomed.

So I found these deliciously heinous tiles in our side yard that Mr. Chang (previous owner) left behind. Little did he know that within a hot second of us moving in, his precious tiles were being ripped up. So imagine our surprise when we found them again. It like when you eat something nasty, and you totally regret it, then 2 hours later you burp it up, and it tastes even nastier then when your originally ate it.

Yah, it’s totally like that.

Shut up, it is.
My analogy is perfect.

And it made you want to eat something greasy, huh?

You’re gross.

I don’t blame you, I can go for some french fries right about now too.

But first, BEHOLD! The tile:

Then I painted it.

It’s no Van Gogh, but it’s a start.

#14. Sleep

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October 1, 2010

I went to bed at the same time that my kids went to sleep last night.

It was 8:00.

And it was weird.

I don’t recommend it. Unless you’re sick or something.