Fun Fact Friday-European Vacation Edition

*I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I was the only person in all of London-slash-Paris who was NOT sporting skinny jeans. Well, except for a few other Lame Americans. YOU WILL KNOW US BY OUR BOOT-CUTS, people.

*While I (inexplicably) don't mind the Leggings Phenomenon, I'm afraid I still cannot stomach skinny jeans, even while holding my nose. It is just TOO SOON, ya know? I'm not ready.

*We took the STAIRS to the top of the Eiffel Tower, while carrying two days' worth of luggage on our decidedly non-packmulish backs. THANK YOU STAIRMASTER!

*A couple I was friends with in college got engaged at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She was on vacation with her family, and he showed up (in Paris! At the top of the Eiffel effing Tower!) to surprise her. To this day, it's probably the best engagement story I've ever heard.

*Turns out I require upwards of a QUARTER-CUP of mayonnaise to properly consume an order of "frites" at a Belgian restaurant.

*I am utterly unable to master the mechanics of chopsticks, even under threat of certain humiliation and before my first glass of wine. I just...HOW? And why does it look SO EASY? Am I...*gasp* TRYING TOO HARD slash OVERTHINKING? Surely not. That would be most unlike me. AND YET.

*The British make liberal use of the word "fuck", and I don't think I have to tell you how well this suits me. I sigh happily even now just thinking of it. My favorite usage by far is, "OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!". Hee!

*If you are short, you may as well skip the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. I'm just sayin. You will be able to watch it in the viewing panes of other people's cameras, and...that's about it.

*The only souvenir I regret not buying is a pink "This is my dance space" tank top from the Dirty Dancing musical we saw in London (OMG IT WAS SO GOOD I LOVED IT SO MUCH).

*In all my life, I have never known anyone as generous and fun-loving as my friend Woz. I wish for all of you to have the type of friend who would book you a plane ticket to London (also: PARIS!) on a moment's notice, based only on your shitty day and a desire to drink with you in person. Woz puts people before money every. single. time, and that's just one of the many things I lurve about her (also: the fact that neither of us will ever, EVER be president due to a wide variety of shenanigans).

Thanks, man. You always know just what to do.

Look Kids! Big Ben! Empty Blog Space!

SOOOO. Tessie went to Europe and all you got was, well, one half-assed "Tweet" (Le Sigh) and stony silence in response to your lovely emails and comments. WELL DONE ME.

I've got some totally kick-ass accents to make fun of, but also ONE-HUNDRED and SIXTY SEVEN emails (true fucking story), so I'm afraid in the grand tradition of lame post-vacation blog posts I'm going to have to leave you with this, and only this:

Go ahead, you fuckers. Tell me ALL ABOUT how different I look. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

Ermm, HI?

Dear Internets,

How are you? I am fine, where "fine" is defined as "sorta shitty, if we're being honest, but I don't really wanna talk about it".

We are in kind of a...LOGISTIC-Y phase with the whole divorce thing, and you can imagine how I feel about THAT. I must say that so far, this whole thing has made me realize I'm really cut out to be some kind of fabulously wealthy celebrity, with a publicist to send out press releases, and an assistant to change all my bank accounts and credit cards, and a body double at work. Basically, I just want to handle the drinking and shopping.

Anyway, this really is a middle-class sob story, since I seriously have something awesome going on this week: I'm going to Europe tomorrow! TRUE FUCKING STORY! In an epic play of the Divorce Card, I'm going to go spend a week with uber-fabulous Londoner and drinker extraordinaire Woz! (bonus true story: she sent me a hilariously fussy ITINERARY, detailing each day from 0700 to 2200 hours, all contingent upon us not "hurting ourselves drinking". HEE! Also: SEND LIVER FUNCTION GAH)

So, all this to say that the total fucking LAME-O-RAMA around here is likely to continue at least through the next week. If not into PERPETUITY. JESUS. That's how badly I suck lately.

If you're really jonesing for a Taste of Tessie (GROSS!), you could always go check out the Pay It Forward package I sent Whimsy. Yeah, I know the contest was a month ago. Say hello to my little friend the DIVORCE CARD, motherfucker!

(Not pictured in Whimsy's post: the package itself, which was "sealed" entirely with SCOTCH TAPE. Basically, the whole works was the Essence of Me).

Snapped

This Morning:

Tessie: Come on, goose! Open the door, please!
AD: WHY?
Tessie: Because you have to get in your seat!
AD: WHY?
Tessie: Because we have to get going!
AD: WHY?
Tessie: Because we're going to go to school today!
AD: WHY?
Tessie: ARGG! Because IT'S FRIDAY, YOU AIN'T GOT NO JOB, AND YOU AIN'T GOT SHIT TO DO!

The Deuce

Here are a couple of things that have happened since last I posted:

*AD turned TWO! No shit!

*I received about 20 emails, all of which I filed away "to return later" like giant Divorce-Card-Wielding bitch/hag.

*Gev got kicked off SYTYCD. POUT.

*I purchased Step Up 2 on DVD. God help me, I THOUGHT IT WAS GOOD, as long as you ignore any and all alleged ACTING by "actors".

So, yeah. I am the mother of a TWO-YEAR-OLD. And in typical two-year-old fashion, AD totally cooperated with my efforts to get a Touching Milestone Birthday Picture as I dropped her off at daycare:

Take One: Please! No photos!

Take Two: Actual FINGER UP NOSE, for the love of christ

Terrible twos, here we come! I sincerely hope she accepts the Divorce Card! Although, now that I think of it, the Divorce Card is trumped by the Child Of Broken Home card. Hmm. Check and MATE.

Blog Share

This post is part of -R-'s Blog Share and was written by an anonymous blogger (not Tessie). Tessie's post today appears anonymously on another Blog Share participant's blog. Tessie hopes you will play along and read and comment and all that jazz even though it's totally bizarre how she's gone all Third Person on your ass here.

My grandmother has informed her four children that she is cutting three of them out of her will.

This is the sort of vindictive, mean-spirited thing a person usually does to have a final revenge from beyond the grave, but that would not be her style, because she would not be around to witness the hurt and anger that would result.

Actually, it's much worse. She does not actually have a will. She is telling her children this now so that they will feel compelled to follow her wishes after she is gone even though if there is no legal document backing any of it up. Even if the law says that without a will, all four of her children will inherit her estate. She refuses to get a will because, she claims, she doesn't have anything.

I knew my grandmother was crazy, but this really takes the cake. This revelation upset my mom and her two brothers who are cut out, and -- shocker of shockers! -- my grandmother is now upset that THEY are upset! There isn't anything to give away, you see! How dare they want smaller and smaller pieces of nothing? Can't they see that their brother is the only one who really needs the nothing she will be giving? What a bunch of ingrates! If she hadn't already cut them out, she definitely would now!

It is NOT about money: my grandmother does not have any. But I think it's telling that that is how she is framing the issue. It either has not occurred to her that anyone would want something to remember her by, or she is desperate for people to SAY that they do. I suspect that it is the latter, if only because it would give her such pleasure to hold it over the head of whoever cracked and said it first. ("You want my spoon collection because it reminds you of me? Yes, I knew you would want it. Too bad. It's going to your big brother anyway. It would be too much work to put all of my stuff in four boxes instead of one. That would be TIRING. What, you think I'm healthy enough to pack boxes?")

And there is nothing I can say other than to comfort my mother by pointing out that she didn't cause any of this, and reassure her that today is Blog Share day, so nobody knows it is me and nobody knows it is her. Really. Well, one of my siblings does, but none of this is a surprise to my family.

I wouldn't post this on my own blog because my mother wouldn't want it there, but I know she will read this and recognise herself. I want her to know that our family loves her very much and that she doesn't deserve any of the mind games her mother has played on her over the past few decades.

Latah, UAFT!

Here's something else that does NOT suck about getting divorced: having complete control over my Stuff.

Last night I was cleaning this hideous table slash lamp that BR insisted on keeping next to his end of the couch, and thinking to myself, as I have EACH AND EVERY TIME I have ever cleaned it, "GodDAMN I hate this ugly-ass fucking table! It makes me feel like I'm on the set of The Ladies Man!".

And then I thought, WAIT A MINUTE.

See ya, Ugly-Ass Fucking Table! Don't let the beaded curtain hit your ass on the way out!

*EVIL CACKLE OF GLEE slash HAPPY DANCE*