Pillow Book

Art- that's my gig right? So Tori asks me yesterday "You going to the Art Connection this weekend?" Not only did I not know it was this weekend, I couldn't even tell you one artist that is going to be there. I've been distracted lately, and I'm not sure why. I can't seem to get happy. I have the domestic partner that cooks for me, the job I would have killed for when I was a teenager, the kid is doing great in school, my best friend is getting married to the man she should have married 10 years ago.

I don't know. I haven't had a haircut in awhile, try 6 months. Maybe that will cheer me up. Anyways, hope I see youse at the Magic City Art Connection this weekend.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 11:39 PM | Permalink

I still don’t have pictures of our new baby boy. (Sparky) But I can report that a classic case of sleep deprivation is well on its way. We don’t have a fenced in yard so Sparky sleeps in a kennel in our bedroom. He only whimpers about twice a night to go out to potty. Then he whimpers at least once because he is jealous that the cat doesn’t have to stay in a kennel. Then he has to shake the living daylights out of his favorite stuffed animal. And there is always the chewing of what ever makes the most noise.

My alarm goes off in the morning and I’m left wondering how in the hell I ever survived feedings and diaper changes every three hours with my child.

I live for the day we get Sparky’s out door kennel built

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:56 PM | Permalink

A lot has been happening around the Teahouse lately. The Rascal and I have upgraded our relationship from live-in-lovers to "Domestic Partners." I was under the impression that a domestic partnership involved a ceremony led by a witchy looking lesbian followed by some sort of fabulous hors d'œuvres. But apparently all you have to do is sign your significant other up for an employee discount card to buy groceries at the new Whole Foods Market located in the posh Mountain Brook.

That's right, the Rascal is now a proud employee of the first Whole Foods in Alabama. I took the store tour today and I finally understood why the store is sometimes referred to as whole paycheck. Good lawd I wanted to buy everything. So far I have sampled organic shampoo, chocolate tortillia chips, some sort of granola vitamin bar, beef that has never been fed hormones, preservative free sushi, "cruelty-free" soap, and organic whole foods blend coffee. I have to say- whole paycheck or not it's worth every penny.

Besides publicly proclaiming our undying committedness, we also adopted a four month old. We call him sparky. I'll be posting pictures soon.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:53 PM | Permalink

NorDys Gallery presents...

Karen Jacobs' & Byron Myrick's

Newest Works

February 23 - March 24, 2007

There will be a reception honoring the artists on Friday, February 23, from 6 to 9 in the evening.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 06:47 PM | Permalink

1. What time is it? 11:12 pm
2. Full Name? Irish Geisha
3. What are you most afraid of? microscopic protozoa
4. What is your occupation? Assistant- Comercial Art Gallery
5. Have you ever seen a ghost? I may or may not have seen a ghost
6. Where were you born? Birmingham, Alabama
7. Ever been to Alaska? No
8. Ever been toilet papering? No
9. Croutons or Bacon bits? Both if they are not on my salad
10. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
11. Favorite restaurant? GIUSEPPE'S ITALIAN CAFÉ
13. Favorite sport to watch? Underwater basket weaving
14. Favorite Drink? Lemonaid with Bourbon
15. Favorite Ice cream? homemade vanilla
6. Disney or Warner Brothers? animation is dead to me
17. Favorite fast food restaurant? chick-fil-a
18. What color is your bedroom carpet? I don't remember what it looks like without all the clothes.
19. How many times have you failed your Driver's test? Believe it or not I passed on the first go.
20. Before this one, from whom did you receive your last email? MySpace Friend Request from AgesApart
21. What do you do most often when you are bored? Answer Meaningless Questionnaires
22. Bedtime? Tivo keeps me up.
23. Who will respond to this email the quickest? not applicable
24. Who is the person you sent this to who is least likely to respond? see answer #23
25. Who is the person whom you are most curious to see their responses? refer to previous answer
26. Favorite TV show? Gilmore Girls. No, House. No definately Gilmore Girls. Blast that damned tivo!
27. Ford or Chevy? My first car was a metalic blue 1979 Monte Carlo with a V8. Move over Speed Racer.
28. What are you listening to right now? The Rascal is watching Extras. On tivo.
29. What are your favorite colors? Yawn! Next Question.
30. How many tattoos do you have? Boring! Next Question
31. Do you have any pets? 1 cat 40 fish and 1 brand new puppy
32. Which came first the chicken or the egg? Seriously? NEXT QUESTION!
33. What would you like to accomplish before you die? I hope to visit my grandchildren in their home on the moon. I'll tell them stories of the olden days when space colonies were a pipe dream.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (3357)

I love it when I run into other bloggers at the grocery store. It's kind of like spotting a celebrity only when you call their name, they reconize you to. And then there is that awkward moment because you haven't actually seen each other in a while but you can't say " So how are things? " because if you are a good reader, you should already know how things are.

Standing in front of the check out lanes the other day, I actually said to another blogger "So, what are you here for?" and he answered with a strait face " Dog food." As if inquiring about his grocery store routine was a valid question.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:14 PM | Permalink

I had a post all set to go about 12 mexican grapes and red panties turned inside out for good luck. It was based on the whole New Year's resolution theme that is ever so popular during this time of year. (Go figure.) But instead I think I'll tell a sweet little story about how I ruined the holiday for the Rascal and his parents.

First I must preface with a little history. It seems that every time I get around the Rascal's parents should be an episode in a mini-series entitled "National Lampoon's Meet the Parents." There was the time I didn't apply my makeup correctly in the car on the way to their house. I didn't realize until the ride home that I had enjoyed the entire visit with white clown circles under my eyes. Then there was the time they came over and the entire house was clean except for the underware and bras in the bathroom floor. And just last week the words "DON'T TELL HER THAT!" came out of the Rascal's mouth when his mom called me and I informed her that we stopped off to have a beer. I mean, it's not like I told her we were at a biker bar called the Thunder Inn. Which we were. But that story involves my car breaking down in a shady part of town (my old hood) and it's not as interesting as it may seem.

So-New Year's Eve. We were at the Rascal's parent's home, which is located on the lovely Lay Lake. It's about 10:30- 11 o'clock and Angelbaby was already down for the count. The Rascal and I were on the front porch with his parents, enjoying the evening and waiting for the moment when the remainder of the fireworks can be shot off to ring in 2007.

The following story is not for weak of heart. And I should note that this was an alcohol free night. Not one drop was consumed by any of us.

So I'm sitting there listening to the Rascal and his mom gossip about something or other and I start getting really hot, and nauseous. Then I realize that I can't speak and I am concentrating on deep breathing in an effort to keep my McDonald's combo #2 from resurfacing. At just the point when I realized that I was on the verge of blacking out, I woke up covered in vomit with three very scared faces staring at me. I had lost about 5 minutes.

Apparently I fainted, threw-up, and choked. All before midnight. And that my friends is how you waste a perfectly good New Year's Eve.

Although it did take about 30 minutes for me to fully come around, I refused to go to the hospital. Luckily I had enough presence of mind to avoid the emergency room on a holiday. To add insult to injury, when I called my doctor's office this morning they informed me that not only is he no longer practicing, but as of 3 months ago he moved. TO NEW ZEALAND.

You'll be happy to know that the Rascal's mom set me up an appointment with her doctor and my EKG and CT scans were normal as well as my blood count. Now we are just waiting for a few more blood tests to come back from the lab before she labels this a fluke, and we pray it never happens again.

All in all I would say that was one hell of a season finale and I'm pretty sure I can sell it to HBO or at least the new CW anyway.

And for anyone who thinks I'm not taking this thing serious enough- save that talk for the Rascal. He is still convinced that I died.

Happy New Year everybody!

Posted by Irish Geisha at 05:27 PM | Permalink

I made it. I made it all the way to Christmas without getting the blues. I very nearly got fired recently, but that doesn't count because it had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with the fact that everyone has their breaking point and my boss found mine. She not only found my breaking point, but she bitch stomped it with golf cleats. And at that precise moment, the moment when word vomit came up and I told her what I really thought, I knew that it was quite likely going to be my last day as an assistant in a commercial art gallery.

Luckily the owner of my company is pretty understanding. So a slap on the wrist later, I still have my job. My boss didn't speak to me for a week, but you'll never hear me complain about that.

I hope everyone is having as good a holiday as I am having so far.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 10:29 PM | Permalink

My Father apologized on Thanksgiving. And I forgave him. I don’t hate my dad I just hate the way he deals with his frustration. Plus, my mom made hashbrown casserole, which is my most favorite casserole ever. So you could see where I would be less inclined to let a little thing like my Dad’s misdirected anger get between me and Thanksgiving dinner.

The week before last, my Dad called me and he couldn’t say a word. Instantly I knew. “Just say it.” I told him. My grandmother had passed. It seems Death felt jilted when the stroke didn’t take her so he gave her a heart attack. I don’t mean to sound insensitive it’s just that my crazy grandmother’s mental illness (paranoia) made it hard to really know her as a person and be as close to her as a granddaughter should be. So dealing with her death has been much easier than I thought it would be.

My crazy grandmother lived to be 85 years old and most of that life was spent taking care of herself and then, after her short marriage, taking care of her two sons. The death of my crazy grandmother inspired my father to look for information about the family on the Internets. We always knew that her father had died when she was only 16. The children were all sent to different relatives. No one ever asked her how her father died.

I haven’t read the article for myself yet, but according to my father an article about my great-grandfather’s death does exist. In said article, it states that my great-grandmother shot and killed my great-grandfather for some unknown reason and goes on to say that she was indeed acquitted. No wonder my grandmother was crazy.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 11:49 PM | Permalink

Art in time for Christmas giving, and it's affordable for folks like me.

NorDys is having a $199 and under show starting this Friday.

Happy art hunting.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:29 PM | Permalink