Pillow Book

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

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

1. showing irritation or ill humor by a gloomy silence or reserve.

I haven't spoken to either of my parents since I hung up on my dad. I sent an email to my mom which she in turn ignored. Quaint. I did speak to my brother today. He let me know that my grandmother is out of the hospital and on her way to that long road of recovery. When I mentioned to my brother that Mom wasn't speaking to me he said "Maybe she thinks you should cut dad some slack." His tone implied that he agreed with Mom but he would have said more on the matter if he didn't understand how I feel. I mean it's not like my dad just all of a sudden became an ass when my grandmother got sick. And my brother knows that all too well. The difference between my brother and I is that he thinks he deserves what ever my dad dishes out. I know better.

So there it is. My family thinks I'm an asshole because I refuse to let my dad take his frustration out on me. And that makes me sullen.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 11:25 PM | Permalink

Posted by Irish Geisha at 10:19 AM | Permalink

I generally try to avoid writing about my family. Mostly because I find it hard to be nice. I don't remember just how old I was when my parents trusted me at home alone. But I do remember spending countless hours searching the house while they were out. Peeking in every box, behind every piece of furniture, rummaging through every bit of paperwork I could find looking for proof that I was adopted because I couldn't believe I was actually related to these people.

I called my dad tonight to ask him about the status of my crazy grandmother's health and was met with a lecture. My father resents the fact that he is the head of the household and never lets an opportunity pass to tell me so in a most passive aggressive way.

So I hung up on him. Maybe I'll check with the county records for those adoption papers.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:42 PM | Permalink

I missed the Artwalk this year, the Rascal and I were getting over the flu but I heard it wasn't as good as years past. I'm not surprised considering the advertizing this year, or shall I say lack there of.

Anyway the Rascal and I are volunteers for the Sidwalk fest this weekend.

I don't think I even posted about my experience last year. It's because I saw a movie that totally creeped me out. That is to say, I very nearly had an anxiety attack in the middle of the Alabama Theater. The flick was by a local director about a young musician trying to make his way in the big city. (New York) Anyway, the likeness was so close to an ex-boyfriend that through the entire movie I felt like I was suffocating. The ex and I did not part on good terms and it put me off musicians all together.

I'm sure my reaction would be enough to swell even the most modest director's ego. But honestly this year I hope the view is a little less intrusive.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:06 PM | Permalink

Because Birmingham Rocks.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:06 PM | Permalink

I've been getting a little heat about not posting so much lately. I'm always thinking about it but there are a couple of things holding me back. One, is time. A good deal of my time is spent in transition right now, which keeps me away from my beloved computer. Two, is work. I have a new job. Same company no raise, it was a lateral move. Gallery Assistant is what they would write on my card, if I but had my own card. And I really like the new job which makes it extremely hard not to write about work. But my faithful readers will find that my writing will naturally gravitate toward Art since I am in a postition to learn more on the subject.

That said- Today's subject matter has absolutely nothing to do with Art. I'd like to tell you a little story from my weekend about a girl and a frog:
On Saturday the Rascal and I went off roading hoping to find some cool plants to dig up for his back yard/forest. Instead we may or may not have stolen some rocks from a construction site. Upon our return home we decided to play in the yard and plant some seeds in the empty pots he had.

After much debate over what to plant, (I was for flowers, he was all "baby, you can't eat flowers") we ended up planting yellow and orange bell pepper seeds. Whilst sowing seeds like a good little Southern Belle, I noticed a cute little frog hopping on the ground. I thought to my self, "I MUST HOLD HIM!" I don't know why the urge to cradle the amphibian was so overwhelming but at that moment nothing else on earth existed.

And then I GOT HIM!. I had his little body in my hands. Oh what joy, what simple happiness, WHAT THE FUCK?!? That little fucker pissed all over my hands. I don't mean he tee-teed a little. I mean he drenched my hands. I looked down to make sure the little fucker didn't just explode all over my fingers. His ass got rocketed back down to the ground as I ran yelling all the way to the water spigot. The Rascal just shook his head. "Why did you pick him up?"

He pissed on me! Sympathize or Shut up!

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:34 PM | Permalink

I am blaming my current bout of writer’s block on the Rascal. It’s only fair. Since he blames me for any lack of posting on his blog that occurs. Anyway, he told me my blog has no theme. NO THEME!?! Isn’t it obvious? The theme is ME. ME, ME, ME. It’s all about me. Is that so wrong? I didn’t argue the point. Mostly because I wasn’t in the mood to argue. But I started to think. (Yes, I think sometimes.) Maybe my blog needs a theme. Other than “ME” that is.

NAH!

Posted by Irish Geisha at 07:42 PM | Permalink

A coworker came in to work the other day with a really short hair cut after having grown his hair nearly down to his shoulders. Our receptionist berated him saying "WHY? Why would you do that?" I felt bad for him. I mean the kid is 26 and almost completely bald on top and now he has to take shit from a twinkie receptionist. So I say to him "Dude, I don't think Cupcake likes your new hair but I think it looks alright." "Yea, I usually keep it short I've just been lazy about getting it cut. What hair I have left anyway. There's not much left." Being the meddling nosey ass that I am, I had to ask "Does that bother you?" "Naw, Dude. My dad is bald as shit and my older brother is bald as shit to, I knew I would loose my hair so no need in even worrying about it." "That's a good attitude to have" I told him " I'd rather my boyfriend loose every hair on his head than grow his hair long."

A man can be short and dumpy and getting bald but if he has fire, women will like him. -Mae West

Posted by Irish Geisha at 10:26 PM | Permalink