Pillow Book

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

This is quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen. It’s a fish. A Valentine fish. Because what man wouldn’t love a chocolate fish. Or woman for that matter. I damn near peed my pants when I saw this and I couldn’t wait for St.Valentine’s Day I had to go ahead and give it to the Rascal. Because he’s a keeper. Just like it says on the box.

A FISH! A VALENTINE FISH! And just like Larry the Cable guy says- "That’s funny. I don’t care who you are, that’s funny right there."

Even though I wasn’t dating anyone this time last year, if you read my blog, you may or may not have noticed the lack of “I hate Valentine’s Day” posts. That is because I am pretty indifferent about the holiday. Sure, I like chocolate at much as the next gal. But what the hell do you get a man for St.Valentine’s Day? A chocolate fish?

Posted by Irish Geisha at 08:42 PM | Permalink

If you were to ask me, I would have no problem telling you how beautiful I am. Hell, I’ll tell you even if you don’t ask. In fact, on more than one occasion I have ended a conversation with “…why are you laughing? I’m totally hot.” It isn’t that I don’t own a mirror. I do. And I am not under some delusion that I would actually make the cover of Sports Illustrated. But I spent the first 18 years of my life surrounded by a family that constantly reminded me about how pretty I would be if I would only loose weight. My entire youth was spent thinking my life would suddenly be wonderful if I could just shed 30lbs.

As you may imagine, when I did loose the weight, I came to the harsh conclusion that my life was exactly the same. So with that lesson under my belt, I don’t feel too bad about not loosing all of the weight I gained by having Angelbaby. (7 years ago) Of course I want to be healthy, but I am not about to walk around feeling ugly because I can’t get rid of 20 vanity pounds. And even if I never get small enough to wear a bikini again, I’m going to wear one anyway- because fuck all!

With that said…

I do not care how golden your beaux is, and no matter what he actually says, no man wants his best girl to pork-up. Or so I thought. I did not post much over the Christmas Holidays because I was busy trying to get the new .com going but I could not go without letting everyone know that my boyfriend, my precious precious republican Rascal, bought me…

AN ICE CREAM MAKER!

Yes, before you ask- there was a sparkley, heart shaped, pendant, on a chain, wrapped in a velvet box that he brought all the way from New Orleans on one of his post-Katrina trips. But did I mention the ICE CREAM MAKER? I looked at him as if to say, “Do you realize how big my ass is going to get?” And before I could actually say anything, he said to me (with a devilish grin on his face) “Next year I’ll get you a membership to the gym.” In my youth I would have been angry that he dared mention the gym. But now that I am older and wiser my first thought was, Awe, he’s already thinking about next year.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 07:59 PM | Permalink

Well, I didn't do anything I set out to do at the beginning of this year. And thank God for that. I have had a much better adventure than some crummy bus ride to nowhere, I instead began dating a republican. (and truely it is an adventure) Which also broke my second resolution of not dating anyone exclusively for the whole year- also a crummy resolution.

I still think it is important to set the goal, even if it is not reached. Last years goals gave me a starting point and where I ended up was a much better place than where I had begun.

This year I will concentrate on becoming debt free. Student loans are hanging over my head like a revolutionary guillotine. By the end of the year I hope to tell the federal student loan collector and my credit card company to "eat cake" but when I say it, it will sound more like "fuck off bitches!"

Posted by Irish Geisha at 07:53 PM | Permalink

Last night was the circle of friends 5th annual Christmas Party. Held at the home of Liesl and her new hubby. I have not attended the event the past couple of years. Not because I wasn't invited but mostly because my exhusband either hosts the party or shows up with his barely legal, punk-rock wanna be, flavor of the month. To recap-after two beers Irish becomes an ass. So, it has just been best that I stayed away. He was not able to attend this year and so.... I won't admit to every drink I consumed, but there was: wine, tequila shots, and at one point there was a beer for each hand. Cheers! I don't think I pissed anyone off. I hope I didn't. I did threaten to kill someone but it was all in good fun and he ended up dryhumping my leg in the dining room later that evening. Some band (Always the Runner) was crashing in the apartment downstairs after their gig at Cave9. Liesl couldn't convince them to play for us but they did accept the invite to crash the party. I must say they were a delightful bunch of cuties from Louisiana. I hope they go far. Back to my drunken stupor. Like I was saying, who needs mistletoe? I kissed on the mouth and/or licked the cheek of at least half of the ladies and gents at the party. Then we moved the party to the Plaza. More people to kiss and still no mistletoe in sight! I heard that someone in "the circle" was concerned that I might be trying to make a love connection. Just to set the record straight, I don't have time for men who are already taken. I do however have time to flirt with whom ever flirts with me. And that is how I ended up tongue kissing the doorman at the Plaza. (For some reason he wasn't actually working the door last night.) I am proud to say I did go home alone. Not that I wouldn't like to have someone special to sleep beside me. I'm just enjoying my freedom for a while.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:46 PM | Permalink

Couldn't bring myself to finish that lame ass list. I'm not going to delete it though. It just serves as a reminder that when I said "I'm just a girl." I was not being humble. I totally stole this pic from Andrew's site before he took it down. I'm fairly sure it was taken in front of the Thomas family home. Maybe Liesl or Tori can verify that. Enjoy.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:55 PM | Permalink