Yesterday, my friend Sara and I started preparing for our Halloween night by putting together a little pre-party for our group. Once again, Anna and James were gracious enough to allow me to use their home as “Halloween Central.” We had 7 of us all dressing up as characters from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Our timing was pretty good; I’ve just heard the horrific news that a remake is in the works, with (I’ve heard) Marilyn Manson as Dr. Frank ‘N’ Furter. Yuck.

Here are just a few photos to start.


Sara made Toxic Punch and I threw in some disembodied ice hands


Putrid Jack O’Lantern Puke, garnished with bones


Horrible Ham Head that I made (doesn’t it look like one of the Sand People from Star Wars?)


Another picture of the punch because I just think those hands are so freaking cool looking.


On the left you see the Acne and Pus filled skin rollups. Also known as spicy crab/cream cheese rolls.


We really get into our Halloween.


Photo by my friend, Susie Q.  I was so proud of Frank ‘N’ Furter’s makeup. I’m no Martina, but not bad for an amateur. Michael was a real trooper, clunking around in men’s size 11 glitter heels all night. What was funniest for me was still how “guy” his walk was. After last night, I’m pretty sure now that I can make him do anything.

More to come. I have to let my hangover subside a bit more. Oy.

Dogs do not like to wear wigs and you could ostensibly waste 35 minutes and an entire bag of treats trying to get them to pose for a photo wearing one.  It’s times like these that I really regret not having had children.  Kids would be way easier to torture, plus you could make them go to the Cheese Shack to get a ginger ale for you when you’re hungover.

This morning, I was 80% finished with the second 20 year reunion blog when I inexplicably received the Blank Screen of Death.  My home computer died.  This is being posted as quickly as possible because my laptop also has serious issues and needs to go to the doctor.  Yeah, it’s new.  But it’s sick.  And I love it anyway. 

I want to sincerely, deeply, from the bottom of my shriveled little black heart thank all of you who have checked in every day to be faced with nothing new, to you who have written me a note of encouragement or sent me an email or a text.  Under the bell jar, not much sound gets through, but from time to time the noise made is just raucous enough to break the seal.  I think I’m back.  I think I’m on my way back.  I’m sleeping, anyway.

While I was underwater, this blog quietly slipped over 100,000 hits.  Amazing, that.  So I thought it might be thoughtful for me to put together a page of what might be considered my “greatest hits to date.” So that anyone stumbling across my blog wouldn’t have to wade through as much crap as you have all had to.

I have a few particular blogs of mine that I think might be “winners” in that they generated the most comments.  I also have one or maybe two that I think are actually decent writing.  But ultimately I believe that you are the judges.  You tell me your favorites of the blogs I’ve subjected you to over this past year.  I’ll put them together on a little page, it will be like Heather in Paradise Cliff Notes for the lazy student.

As soon as my computer is saved, the new blog will be posted.  Thank you for bearing with me.  I will try not to leave you again, I promise.  Because when you’re gone, I miss you.

This blog is experiencing technical difficulties. Our blog author has been suffering from insomnia, latenight anxiety, and writer’s block. We have enrolled her in a new gym in the hopes that she will kick the sleepless cycle and she can return to her blogly duties.

Please stay tuned, we shall return to our regularly scheduled silliness as soon as possible.

Constant, unrelenting rain for about three weeks has led me to an almost physical craving for these two articles of clothing. They are so good-looking I want to eat them, and I would if I could.


Damn you, adorable tattoo rain boots!


Curse you, sassy red shiny rain coat!

A pox on both of you brazen hussies! You put lust in my heart, and wilt thou leave me thus unsatisfied in this land devoid of shopping options and shoes in my size? Begone, out of my sight, I tell you.

And off I go in my flip flops, flinging muddy water onto the backs of my calves with every step. Ah, life in Paradise.

I interrupt your wait for my 2nd HS reunion post and more Halloween costume pics to bring you this “normal life” post.

I discovered that I had an infection in a tooth I’d had a root canal in over 20 years ago. There wasn’t any pain or blatant signs of infection, so I didn’t notice it until it had gotten so bad the tooth had to be pulled. I then put it off for a month, since I had my vacation to go on and my HS reunion to attend and I didn’t want to go looking all toothless and country. My sister called me “vain,” and I agree with her assessment completely, but want to add that in my opinion there are enough toothless people in Lake County, IL without my adding to their ranks.

Tuesday after work, I went to see my dentista, Dr. Jorge Armenta, whose office is on Avenida 30 and the corner of Calle 6. Dr. Armenta has been my dentist since I moved here and is absolutely wonderful, very gentle and soothing. His office is small, but he goes out of his way to accommodate your needed appointment times and is available by cell phone almost anytime.


Pointing to my left 2nd rear molar for the last time. It had a porcelain crown on it that closely matched the color of my other teeth, so imagine my shock when I saw what the “underneath” parts of a tooth look like. I couldn’t bring myself to take pictures of that ugly brownish-yellow thing.


During the 6 minutes or so I sat in Dr. Armenta’s waiting room, my nervous ass must have read every word on that restaurant billboard across the street about 324 times.

Dr. Armenta, doing his GQ pose as I demanded. He’s handsome and kind.


He did another x-ray just so I could show it to you on my blog. I don’t know if you can tell, but the infection ate away a lot of the roots of the capped tooth, as well as some of the surrounding bone in my jaw. When Dr. Armenta finally got the tooth out, it pulled all of the infection with it, and since he knows how fascinated I am with gross things, he showed me the pus sac and everything. It was cool, but then I felt a little faint and had to lie back down.


The executioner posing for a photo with me just before the beheading.


I’m not that happy at the dentist; even for cleanings I grip my hands together very tightly. Michael was amused to see that during an extraction, I also hold my feet at weird angles and move them around from side to side.

The procedure itself wasn’t too bad. I had so much Novocaine I couldn’t feel my mouth for the next 4 hours. Dr. Armenta is so deft with the shots that I never felt a thing. He told me that he’s so good at them because in dental school, he and his best friend practiced on each other over and over again.

The worst thing about the extraction was the sort of ripping sound it made when he pried the tooth out of my jaw. I wasn’t too keen on the “shaving of the jawbone” part, either, but in almost no time, it was done and I was home with my painkillers and antibiotics.

Dr. Armenta is easily the best dentist I’ve ever had and I’ve never had a bad experience in his dental chair. Maybe because Dr. Armenta is not just my dentist, he’s also my good friend, Jorge:


In addition to dental school, I’m pretty sure he also attended Master Barbecuing School. Thanks, Jorge, I’ll see you on Saturday!

(*this is what time the Chinese man went to the dentist)

At Mazatlan Nancy’s request (she’s right, I did promise), here are more photos of past Halloweens in Playa del Carmen.


2007 This Day of the Dead makeup was EXCELLENT


Inside La Ranita bar, part of the hotel La Rana Cansada on Calle 10 between Avenidas 5 and 10

The mummy really impressed me…totally wrapped up, so how to use the bathroom?

Bloody Mary Keersten, as one of the cocktail girls who one first prize. She made the whole room smell deliciously of celery. Margarita Girl Natalia is in the background.


Someone please explain to me how she manages to still look so pretty with that makeup on.


I was dressed as Princess Leia this night, so that Jedi demanded a photo with me after this one.


Drunk Britney almost drops Sean Preston and the paparazzi catches it all on film

This disgusting male tourist from hell is actually a stunningly beautiful, smart woman doctor!

More to come! 17 days left!

One of the reasons I went back to Chicagoland recently was to attend my 20 year High School Reunion. In 1988, I graduated from Zion-Benton Township High School, home of the Fighting Zee-Bees.

Looking back on my HS days with the benefit of hindsight, I see a confused young girl with little in the way of self-esteem who wanted desperately to fit in, to wear “that hat of belonging.” I was a cheerleader even though I felt like I had little in common with the other girls and even if I secretly gravitated toward the poetry and theater crews. I admired the “punk kids” who had the courage to wear whatever they wanted and have cool hairstyles (hey there, Jerry, you listening? Did you know I admired you?). I longed to be different, too, to show myself as a distinct personality…but not too different because that would have been what they call “social suicide” in the movie Mean Girls. I wish I knew then what I know now about individuality and sense of self, but unfortunately that lesson would take years for me to learn.

And so my memories of High School are not great, but not terrible, either. I didn’t love it and I didn’t hate it. The person I was then is just the person I WAS then. I don’t know that girl anymore, but I do have compassion for her (unlike some of my friends, who love to throw my cheerleading/jockiness in my face in a seeming attempt to humiliate me for something that I will NEVER be ashamed of).

I attended my 10 year HS reunion, too, but I made the mistake of drinking a little too much beforehand (in a misguided attempt to endure what I thought would be painful) and didn’t really enjoy it. I was determined to have a good time at this one, especially since I was coming from so far away to attend.

I harrassed my three best friends from HS for months in advance, threatening them under pain of death to be my dates. You’ve already “met” Amy and Scott in previous blogs. Jerry is an artist, check out his work.

Since it’s nearly impossible for me to find clothes here that fit me, I ordered this gorgeous dress online at www.unique-vintage.com


Front


Back

Closeup of bodice

I was nervous, since the dress was a size 10. I’d been working out and losing weight, but size 10? The measurements were right, but could I actually be a size 10 again? Holy crap. I was having it shipped to my mom’s house and wouldn’t get a chance to try it on until 3 days before the reunion. What if it didn’t fit? And what if the shoes I ordered online to go with it didn’t fit? Or didn’t look right with the dress?

Whatever would I do?

Michele has brought to my attention that October 15, 2008 is Blog Action Day, which is a day in which bloggers around the world will turn to their keyboards to open a dialogue on their blogs about an issue that affects each of us in some way: Poverty.

Each of us has a voice; why not use it to try to raise awareness and offer meaningful discussions about a global ill?  We are all in this together, even if we think we’re not.

I know it’s short notice, but I’d love to hear what you’ve got to say.

I’ve told you before about Local H, my friend Scott’s band.  Well, I’m here to talk to you about them again because they’ve got a long US tour coming up and I thought some of you might like to see a rock show.  I know I would, but I’m trapped down here in Jimmy Buffet and Bob Marley hell (no offense to reggae fans, ’cause I like some reggae, but damn!  I get sick of it.) (you Jimmy Buffet fans are on your own, though, ’cause I just cannot get behind the “Cheeseburger in Paradise” stuff.  Sorry).

Tour dates and locations are listed here.

I’m probably going to get in trouble for doing another “proud mom” post, but I don’t give a shit, Scott.  I AM proud and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

If any of you go to the show, make it a point to mention my name to Scott…he’ll LOVE that.  I’ll buy you a beer if you do it.  Really.  I’ve got PayPal and know how to use it.

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