Well, it finally happened. I got a snow day. We won’t talk about how I was already at work when they called the snow day, literally turned around in the parking lot, and went into full mental breakdown mode, and then went to the gym. That’s the boring part.
We’ll start when I got home from the gym and poured myself a glass of Chardonnay at 8:13 am. Suddenly, a February Thursday turned into a football-season Saturday, and I ain’t complainin’. After a few sips of Jesus’ nectar, I hopped into the shower for the second time in three hours, but neglected to wash face or hair, because there is no way I was redoing that shit.
After the shower, I picked up right where I left off with my Chardonnay, and followed up with 2 Tecate Lights (also Jesus’ nectar: (HEY-zoos’ NECK-ter). Sadly, I found myself with a pretty healthy buzz after these three cocktails. So embarrassing, but I blame it on the combo of not eating since dinner the night before + mental breakdown in work parking lot + workout. So, I had a quick snack of crackers and goat cheese to keep myself from vomiting in the cab on the way to brunch.
Brunch was fairly uneventful, other than the obvious bottomless mimosas that really get my day kickstarted. *Shoutout to the waitress, who literally kept my bottomless mimosas bottomless. Secret way to gain extra tip from Bev. Brunch was followed by a trip to my Fawn’s and my favorite dive bar. I’m both happy and sad to report to you that they weren’t even open yet when we arrived, but the bartender/manager recognized us and let us in early. (In case you were wondering how ‘favorite’ this favorite dive bar really is) Following a really deep conversation about radio stations in the bathroom and asking the manager about our favorite bartender (where ARE you, MattPhil?), a few other friends joined us for some shuffleboard and continued shitshow. It would appear that at one point, I tried to convince Fawn’s fiance to come into the dive bar, and possibly called him DRose? I’m not sure, but there’s certainly a text to him that just says…. DRose. Who knows.
As many of you know, I black out as often as I leave my house, so the end of the night is a little shady, but I think it ended on a nice little trio of whiskey on ice, an Uber ride home at 6:19 pm, and passing out without eating dinner. Par for the course.
Probably my favorite part of the snow day was waking up the next day to this awesome Google search that Fawn and I performed at the height of dive bar drinking:
And yes, I am a little embarrassed that my own mother doesn’t know that it’s Khloe, but I’m going to blame that on her iPhone/iPad skills (keep in mind this is the same woman who once texted me asking how to send a message on her iPhone). Once = like 3 weeks ago.
I wish I had more Oscar and Bachelor synopses for you, but Bev has a lot on her plate this week. Including spending the rest of the night icing my right eye, because yes, yes, I DID open that goddamned gate into it again Saturday night. (At least that’s my assumption as to why it’s slightly swollen and pretty painful)
Started out Friday night with getting an iPhone 6, and due to the bigger screen, my emojis are not in the same position on the keyboard.
The madness continued into Saturday evening, when I had to run a block and a half in a legit blizzard in order to catch my Uber driver, and was late to my dinner reservation.
Sunday was spent as it usually is…. trying not to puke in the morning, and then ordering and eating a grotesque amount of food in the afternoon/evening.
I’m quite certain that if you Google ‘First World Problems’, you’ll just be directed to this post.
Maybe you thought I was kidding/exaggerating when I talked about my dad and his new shoes in the post earlier this week.
I wish.
Buuuuuuuuut, I received a text from my mom, and ol’ Smokie Goldenstein is donning the Spaldings today. She sent photographic evidence, and I thought y’all may enjoy it.
Look at those things, people. (Yes, I did notice the absence of the world’s most bizarre socks. I know that they are discontinued, so my mom may be trying to slowly wean him off the gray ones…)
Please note the tacky blue coat as well. I would say that that’s another post for another day, but basically, it’s the shoe story. With a coat.
I feel like this post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t tell you that this ‘happy hour’ my parents were attending was at my great uncle’s house, and that I am 100% positive that there were Black Velvet roadies for the 7 mile drive to his house.
And yes, this great uncle is the one who sits at his kitchen table, while using binoculars to see his TV.And yes, he’s my favorite.
There you have it, folks. Smoke Goldenstein, killin’ the game.
I know that everyone is freaking out about North West’s behavior in the front row at Kanye’s NYFW Adidas show. (News flash, people- she’s not even 2. She cries sometimes. How would you like it if your dad was Kanye?) As you all know, it would take a lot more than tears for North West to annoy me.
However, I have spent some time now freaking out about Diddy’s behavior in the front row at Kanye’s NYFW Adidas show.
Now, look more closely. Does he NOT look like the big bad wolf dressed in Red’s grandma’s clothes?
Kim, please keep North away from Diddy. Oh, yeah, and Daddy.
Well, I’ve mentioned a few times now that there’s a bit of a spider issue here at Casa de Goldenstein. The terror threat level was elevated from its previous orange to red this morning, when, before I left for work, I decided to try out my new indoor/outdoor spider-killer spray. All was well, until the spray was apparently like candy to a spider lurking behind the baseboard of my bathroom, and that son of a bitch came storming out to beat hell. And this one wasn’t small like all the other millionshundreds tens I’ve already found and killed. THIS was a big guy. I didn’t even get a chance to kill it, because I was so stunned/scared/disgusted, and he got away (and has literally haunted me for the last 12 hours).
In order to combat this problem, I have tried quite a few things over the last 2 weeks or so…I’ve been hyper-vigilant about cleaning, not keeping food out, etc. Then, my dad vacuumed up all the cobwebs in the basement laundry room adjacent to my apartment this weekend. I paid him in cigarettes to not tell me how many spiders he found in the process. Things took a turn this morning, though, and now I find myself immediately walking into the center of every room, then stopping to survey for spiders anywhere around me. I shake everything before I put it on. Slippers, shake. Gym clothes, shake. Flip-flops, shake. I will most definitely be shaking out my sheets before I go to bed tonight. We’re at the point where literally everything I see, feel, and hear is a spider. That darker spot on the granite countertop? Spider. The string on the inside of your sock? Spider. The little piece of cilantro that fell off onto the top shelf of your fridge? Spider. The upstairs neighbor’s vacuum running? Spider, coming to kill you with his bare hands. And not just any spider, but giganto-spider from my bathroom this morning. I haven’t used the bathroom since I’ve been home after work, and have seriously contemplated peeing in the backyard. This is not a drill.
The good news is… I’ve also been working for a few weeks now on perfecting the perfect alcohol + melatonin combination so that I can actually sleep in these terrifying conditions. This is also extra motivation to make it to my morning gym classes now, as that means I can shower and get ready at the gym, and avoid possibly stepping out of the shower (with a wet, bare foot) on to giganto-spider. I almost started crying when I typed that. (Yes, I do see the inherent problem in the alcohol + melatonin combo, followed by the 5am alarm clock for gym class. It’s gonna have to work)
So, here I am, spending my evening with this big jug of spider spray and several other big jugs of Tecate Light, Rosè, Lambic, and possibly siphoning gasoline out of my own vehicle if I see any arachnids before I go to bed tonight.
Well, the Goldensteins have left the building, and another successful weekend is in the books.
Highlights from Mr. Goldenstein (we’ll refer to him here by his nickname, Smoke):
-seeing him in his underwear every day since Friday. I realize that this is weird. Everyone on the planet realizes this is weird, except for my dad. I wish I could tell you that all of my friends from high school haven’t seen him in his undies, but that would be a lie. We’re talking about a man who sits on the front porch in his underwear, drinking coffee, and smoking his morning cigarette. I know.
-Smoke Goldenstein discussing medical issues (this is always very educational). He has an issue of his hands and feet getting extremely cold, and then he can’t warm them up. Sometimes, this means he walks around the house in a button-up dress shirt, tucked into sweatpants, topped with a Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan, and paired with socks + wool slippers. Other times, it means he talks about how he brought this issue up to the doctor recently, and “That guy says I got good circulation in ‘em. I don’t think he knows shit.” Please keep in mind that it’s a small miracle that he even went to the doctor, because Smoke is a man who:
a) chain sawed his own thigh once
b) removed his own chainsaw-induced staples with a needle-nose pliers in the garage while my mom was at a basketball game
c) found out after chainsaw incident (in the early 2000s) that his doctor’s office has medical records back to 1987, and he had no tetanus shot on record. This is extra hilarious considering that the man is a farmer/mechanic, who pretty much has a perma-gash in his forehead
d) made my mom take the jeans he was wearing during chainsaw incident to my great-grandma so she could sew a patch over the area. It’s highly possible he still has these pants 10+ years later (I’ll check into that next time I head to his house)
-Smoke doing every chore I needed around the house, including vacuuming up the cobwebs in my laundry room (see previous post about spider problem), then clogging the vacuum, and taking the entire thing apart in my living room. Of course, this turned into a lesson for ME on how to take apart my vacuum cleaner, clean it, then put it back together. Because I’m definitely going to do that.
-joking about his (flip)phone, and telling me to ‘keep an eye on it’ every time he leaves the room, because he never gets any calls or messages. Then, the 2 times his phone made a sound in the 4 days he was here, he asks everyone if that was his. I feel like you need to know that this phone still has the plastic protective covering on the front screen.
-ordering the ‘farmer’s breakfast’ at breakfast today, because he misses being a farmer. He’s been gone 4 days.
-asking the temperature EVERY time we get into the car. And as soon as he wakes up. And intermittently throughout the day. Then asking what the temperature is ‘at home’ so he can compare the two. Then transitioning into the mail at home and how he asked the post office to stop it, so they’ll start delivering again Tuesday afternoon. And if there’s any snow at home. And how my aunt and uncle’s dog is doing at home (parents and aunt/uncle drove out together, and we hung out a lot). And if my other aunt made it home safely from visiting her daughter for her birthday. And basically bringing up home (a tiny town we’ll call Mayberry) any chance he got. Again, he’s been gone 4 days.
-his new shoes. The man owns 3 pairs of shoes: cowboy boots (his favs), brown dressy kind of shoes (he calls these his ‘sporty’ pair), and the most god-awful white Spalding tennis shoes that I think he bought at Kmart in 1993. (OK, my mom would’ve bought these horrible shoes, because he doesn’t buy anything for himself, except cigarettes and the occasional doughnut). I have been trying to get the man to get new tennis shoes since I graduated high school, and my mom has recently joined in the fight. I feel like I could probably write a whole other post on the last decade of shoe-shopping, but to make a long story short, they finally bought a pair of new tennies last weekend. Sent me a pic for my approval and everything, and I approved. This is all fine and dandy, until it comes time to actually wear them, and he refuses, because they’re new. And any weather will probably ruin them. It’s too warm, too wet, too snowy, too windy, too cold, or a too-beautiful 70-degree day to wear them. Finally get him to wear them Sunday to go watch our basketball team play, and I forget that no matter now ‘normal’ his shoes may now be, the man only wears gray socks. Gray. Socks. (Insert “Steel Magnolias” quote about gray icing here) I honestly don’t even know where my mom has been buying these dove-gray, loose-fitting except at mid-calf socks for him for the last 40 years. They’re the most bizarre socks I’ve ever seen. Anyway, really, the best option for the man’s footwear is really his cowboy boots, because he likes them and you can’t see his weird socks. Note, he bought these in New Mexico when I was in 6th grade. 19 years ago.
So there you have it. A weekend in the life of the Goldensteins.Though it was a super-busy weekend of eating, drinking, and watching my mom clean my apartment, I was also able to squeeze in watching both Father of the Bride movies.
(Video credit: YouTube user: Michael Ni)
If you don’t think this is one of the funniest movie scenes of all time, don’t bother ever reading this blog again.
Shout-out to bestie, Linda, for the best Valentine’s Day gift a single girl could ask for.
Plus, now you can all say you saw a picture of a Valentine’s Day gift on social media that WASN’T the same as all the other gift pictures you saw on social media.
Seriously, why do people feel the need to post pics of their gifts on this day? No one does this on other gift-giving holidays, but everyone wants to show us their overpriced red roses today. I don’t get it.
Disclaimer: There’s a lot more I’d like to say here, but I feel like I can’t share it until I’m like married or something, because people will think I’m saying these things because I’m a bitter single person, not because I’m sane person who doesn’t give a shit about your flowers. **Don’t hold your breath on ever getting a blog post my real feelings on others’ Valentine’s Day posts, as Bev getting married seems about as likely as…. something unlikely. So, that raw VDay post might just sit on this computer, unpublished, indefinitely. My only hope is that someone discovers it long after I’m gone, and shares it for all the world to see, as a treasured world relic. Like King Tut’s mask or some shit.
For real, though, happy Valentine’s Day to you if you’re reading this. And screw you if you’re not. (tell that to the people who aren’t reading this for me, as obviously they aren’t receiving this important message)
Well, it’s been a busy week around these parts. Busy, like Tot Night last night. Tot Night = invite friends over, then make 3 bags of tater tots, put out a nacho-esque spread (green chili, cheese, sour cream, onion, cilantro, jalapeno, etc.), buy an assload of Tecate Light, and go to town. It was as good an idea as it sounds.
Busy, like staying late at work tonight in order to make it to certain gym class… then changing into gym clothes at work, driving to gym, sitting in parking lot for 10 minutes, and leaving. Also as good an idea as it sounds.
Busy, like making the remnants of Tot Night for dinner while cleaning and doing 3+ loads of laundry in anticipation of parents’ arrival tomorrow, and drowning a spider in laundry basket. (spiders in apartment= another post)
Yes, you read that right. Mr. and Mrs. Goldenstein arrive tomorrow. Shit’s about to get real.
In other news, I came home from an 8+ hour brunch and opened my apartment gate’s latch into my face. More specifically, into my eye. Doubled over in pain, I immediately called my best friend, because there is so much she can do from her house 3 miles away if my eye is going to fall out. Mostly, I just didn’t want to pass out alone in a pile of my own eye juice. (Shout-out to Fawn) Don’t worry, friends… eye is intact. Distinct possibility of black eye tomorrow. (Fingers crossed. I’ve been waiting 31 years for one of those bad boys).
