you think i care how cheesy it is?
okay, people. there are two things i really love in the world [on the same list as ... well, all the things you see in that there sidebar]. and they are: thanksgiving and lists.
and now, for a thanksgiving list of thankful-ly goodness.
my home. the furniture, the warm smells in the kitchen, the old-fashioned bathtub, the four-poster bed.
family – the kind you love because they’re fantabulous people, not just because you share hapless chromasomes.
my mother because she knows i smoke pot, knows i have sex, and loves me as much as she always did. because when she looks at me, i realize what true love really means. because she laughs just like me, and laughs with me, and knows how best to style my hair and how best to hold me when i’m crying.
my dad because he knows when to step back and let me decide, and he’s the most non-judgemental person i know, and because it’s such a hidden treasure to get beneath his gruff exterior and see the honest, brilliant, loving and generous man beneath. and because he loves the simpsons.
and my brother, because he’s never once been mad at me, even when i pulled his cats’ tails. and because he’s got a heart of gold – one of the few out there. and because he’s part of the glue that holds the four of us magically together. and because underneath his business suit, he’s still the biggest rock star i know.
my friends – the kind i’d take a bullet for: erin, beth, raychul, josh, matt, conrad. people whose weddings, children births, birthdays, and any-old-days i will be there to celebrate with. people who never cease to amaze me, challenge me, and bring a smile to my face. and buy me a drink when nothing else works.
my friends – the people you may not even talk to all the time, but you know that it will be like the ceaseless fabric of time when you see them, and pick up where you left off: payan, mido, marnix, the stephanies, victoria, jakob, christopher, luke, chris, the other chris, brandon, and will.
my web friends – because you make me laugh, and you don’t mind sharing your lives and it makes it so much more fun: monkey, anna, chuckles, greg, alex, sarah b., ismat, and yes, even jason.
but also, randomly, i’d like to thank a total stranger: dave, who sat next to me on the train for two hours yesterday, is one of the most erudite strangers i’ve ever met, has a breathlessly well-tuned political mind, and was absolutely fantastic conversation for two straight hours. thanks, dave. good luck with the masters’ degree.
i don’t hold hands with family and pray at thanksgiving. but i do know the meaning of thanks – and of counting your blessings – and the things i give thanks for, every day, are those i’ve just listed. so, thanks.
and cheers to that. everyone have a safe, merry thanksgiving. quench your many appetites – not just sharing food, but sharing joy, love, and thanks.
and pass that cranberry sauce!
culinary wet dreams …
the other night, i was watching teevee, and i saw an ad for taco bell fajitas. and i got to thinking about fajitas. and then i thought, man, i really wish i could have lupe’s fajitas – only the best damn mexican restaurant in the known universe, located in swingin’ houston. and then i thought, dduuuuuuuuuuuuuuudde [yes, that's how i said it]. i’m flying into houston for raychul’s wedding, in january. i can eat at lupe’s … several times! i can gorge myself on their delectable steak fajitas, with paper-thin tortillas and the deliciously tangy marinade that separates lupe’s fajitas from all other fajitas in the world. am i wrong, erin? so here’s the thing – when erin picks me up from the airport, make no mistake: we’re going straight to lupe’s. and then, on the way back from the wedding in austin, to drop me at the airport, guess where we’re stopping, again – you got it. lupe’s. i am intensely mouth-wateringly excited about this. not that raychul’s wedding isn’t exciting enough [sorry raych] but this is the steak-fajita icing on the cake.
but before i start salivating over january – i’m very, very excited also about thanksgiving. my parents and i go all out. for me! [okay, the other three hundred and sixty four days a year, i'm still a spoiled brat whose wonderful parents think i hung the moon.] but thanksgiving means that we get to cook all my favorite dishes – i get to spend wednesday night with mom in the kitchen, smoking cigarettes and making miracles happen: stuffing [bacon celery and raisins of course], my special sweet potato casserole [lots of brown sugar and walnuts], my mother’s creamy potato oven casserole, fresh cornbread, homemade cranberry sauce… the list goes on. no guilt-easing vegetable dishes in my family – we get our starch and our turkey and our honeyed gravy and our several pies.
this all leads me to the wide-spread yet somewhat controversial stance that thanksgiving is loads better than christmas. there’s no trapping of “gifts” and “baby jesus” and “figgy pudding”. it’s just food, people. it’s all about the food. and the family. and this year, the snowy winter wonderland that will be adorning our cozy house in rhode island. i bloody love thanksgiving.
well, now that you’re all drooling on your keyboards from all the foodie talk – get back to work. thanksgiving isn’t until thursday. now go have your pathetic sandwiches for lunch …
the peacock flies at midnight ….
i have a shocking revelation for my loyal fans. this may come as somewhat of a surprise to you all, seeing how devil-may-care and deliciously witty i can be – but i have a problem.
i am vain as a peacock.
yes, that’s right. i am that girl that will change three times before leaving the house. i am that girl that will shower and change into something cheery when going grocery shopping on a blustery day. i am that girl that owns fifteen purses and 30 pairs of shoes.
i am that girl that cleans house in a dress, just to feel pretty. i am that girl that cannot watch an audrey hepburn movie without looking presentable. i am that girl who will reapply lip gloss and tossle my hair and pinch my cheeks pink before going into the coffee shop, as to look windswept and carefree.
and i am vain, i am oh so vain. i plan outfits for events months in advance. i make sure i have presentable underwear (preferably my pink lacy hipsters) on when i go out at night, even though there isn’t a monkey’s chance in hell that anyone will see them. i throw away pictures of myself that i find unpleasing. i have preferences on different mirrors in our house as to which is the most flattering. and for the record, there are four hung mirrors in our apartment, not counting the bathroom, which is my favorite.
this isn’t just unadulterated tell-all. this has a purpose. i’m unveiling a new initiative: it’s called Operation Free the Peacock.
while in discussion with the queen of wit, ms. sarah b., we have come up with a way to challenge our debilitating mirror-addictions: one day without looking in the mirror. at an as-yet-undetermined date next week, ms. sarah b. and i will go from morning to bedtime without once checking our reflection. this includes:
no mirrors
no window reflections
no car bumper reflections*
no subway glimpses
no staring intently into other people’s sunglasses
no staring intently into total strangers’ eyes
no staring intently at computer screens, toilet stall doors, or watches or any other shiny object.
*obviously, an exception should be made while sarah b. is driving – if it happens that she must catch her reflection in a rear-or-sideview mirror while safeguarding herself from harm, petit hiboux would like to assure everyone (including her betrothed) that she should look in a mirror rather than get in a car accident.
but what i really want to say is -
c’mon, sisters out there. shatter the beauty myth. throw the book at the obsessive perfection of beauty. don’t worry about coloring inside the lines – just don’t color at all. ignore your bangs. wear whatever you want to wear. practice a radiant smile instead of applying eyeshadow. think about the sass in your walk instead of your ass in those pants. show your true beauty without having to reaffirm it with a biased, 2-D representation. ignore the mirror – concentrate instead on your inner rock star. you’ll look how you feel – like a million bucks. without a mirror.
you can do this for a day too – want to join us?
lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
there are certain animals i love. there’s something about these animals that appeals to me. if i were to have to return as an animal (hopefully i won’t return as a cockroach for all the parking spaces i’ve stolen from little old ladies), it’d better be one of these guys:
i could be a wombat. see the resemblance? i’d be incredibly rare, one of the rarest animals in the world. i’d be a nocturnal grazer, mainly because i’m lazy about fighting other animals for food and i really don’t think tans complement my complexion. i’d spend a lot of time fanatically rearranging my burrows, creating an intricately complex system of interlocking tunnels and decorating it just so. i’d only have one baby at a time, not a whole herd of them. it’d be nice to be a wombat.
or, maybe a llama! because, you know, baby llamas are the the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. they like to kiss – only when it’s llamas, it’s called a whiffle… it’s sort of like having someone blow a puff of air on your face. once you’ve been whiffled, there’s no going back. i could live in the andes, maybe be a pack-llama for some adorable mayan boy. i could spend my time being adored and petted by humans. llamas’ way of asserting dominance over one another is to spit at each other. hell, this skill could come in handy right now. plus, when llamas are happy, they hum. i do too. usually i hum ‘fascinating rhythm’ or ‘when i’m 64′. i wonder what they hum…
i actually have sort of a fascination with long-necked animals.. maybe i want to go whole hog (*grunt*) and be a giraffe in my next life. i mean, look at these guys. look how they drink. look at them as babies. they’ve even got little bird friends. aren’t they cute as hell? yeah. i’d definitely want to be a giraffe.
but really, in the end – i’d probably pick the good old sloth. you know those treacherous dogmatic catholics gave this noble creature a really bad rep, what with the whole cardinal sin and all. i mean, could this face ever commit a sin? look at those guys! don’t you want to take one home, wrap him around a tree, and watch him spend six months crossing the yard? i mean, see? aren’t you the least bit jealous of the sloth? here’s a creature that can’t even walk on the ground very well, but he’s one of the most powerful swimmers in the world. this variety, the maned three-toed sloth, lives in the amazon rainforest, in bahia, brasil. his swamp lands, for several months a year, are completely flooded – and the trees become an underwater forest. that’s gotta make life kind of hard for the tree-dwelling sloth. does the sloth relocate to, say, someplace like san francisco, where he’s just another long-haired freak in the castro? hell, no, my friend. the sloth simply swims around his home for months on end, taking sometimes a whole day to cross the river. that’s the kind of relaxed yet dogged man i’m talking about. perseverence, not laziness.
plus, he’s got that wicked cute face.
yep. if i had to be an animal, i’d definitely be a sloth.
survival of the stiletto.
i have an idea. a plan, if you will. a contest to determine, once and for all, the superior sex.
let’s have a contest. everyone goes to work for one day in heels. women and men. and not sensible lands-end heels, mind you – something like these. something truly wicked.
at the end of the day, when all the powerdicks throw themselves down flights of stairs to end their suffering, the women can quietly take over the company.
and they call us the weaker sex. harrummpph.
things that are missing, and other updates.
this picture depresses me …
because several elements you see represented here are no longer a part of me.
my car. *sniff*
my long hair.
those sunglasses.
a digital camera.
doesn’t that render an otherwise interesting picture sadly tragic? at least i still smoke.
in other news, had a nice relaxing night yesterday. went out to dinner with vixen, and we discussed how cute my new cell phone is. came back to the apt and watched west wing, got my bradley whitford fix for the week.
then i ambled over to blue sea, and had donuts and coffee with the erudite alex. we spent a happy hour talking literary shop, which was like a junkie fix for me … i don’t have enough people in my life who will willingly discuss books, their merits, the authors, and the literary world with me for a whole hour. cheers to that.
what are you reading lately?
cheers, k.
i love the winter weather … because i’ve got your love to keep me warm.
well, site redesign is just about finished. i’ve lost several hairs to the grey side, several hours forever, and had just about one of the worst days ever. but, on the bright side, your mix CDs should be ready to ship out by friday, and there’s an all new west wing on nbc tonight.
*sigh*
k
hottt and free …
here at petit hiboux, we like to prove maxims wrong. every day. so if “they” say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, we’re giving out a free .. well, a mix cd.
that’s right. i made a pretty rockin’ mix cd last night, complete with kicky graphics, and i want to give it away. so, i’m going to send ten of them out. the first ten people to comment on this post* will recieve an awesome mix cd. it doesn’t matter if i’ve never met you, or you’ve never peeked your shy face out in my jolly comments … you, too, will get a kickin’ mix cd.
the mix cd features such stellar musicians as interpol, the french kicks, mirah, fountains of wayne, morphine, chomsky, death cab for cutie, and my all-time favorite and the only rock star i know personally – josh dillard of heads up display. and it’s all yours. free. sent to your address, in the mail, just because i like you.
see how smashingly wonderful i am?
cheers, k.
*bonus points for funny jokes told or over-the-top compliments lavished.
**** update: as of 11:30, the first three CDs go to stacey, alex and anna. you know what they say about the early bird…****
**** 12:15 pm – only five left! ****
