I was going to title this post “The As to your Qs,” but then I realized that most people would read it “The [az]” instead of “The [ays],”and then I realized that “As” (as in, the plural of “A”) also kind of sounded like the Fonz, and who am I to deny a good Fonz reference? And THEN I remembered how I read this joke* someone made in the comments of a Jezebel post about Henry Winkler having dyslexia as a child: “Why didn’t he just make a fist and pound the books once to fix how the letters looked? Or does that only work for juke boxes?” And after laughing my ass clean off, I emailed Brad about it, who then responded with: “So in his script, most of his lines just said: ‘!yyyyyyyyA’”
Anyhoo, all of that was to say that I have answered the questions that were submitted, and overall I am just amazed that there is anything you guys don’t know after I’ve been running my (virtual) mouth all over this damn blog for nearly three years. Although I guess the aforementioned mouth-running is probably why no one needed to ask any questions regarding how I feel about Sadie, forwards, or glazed donuts.
Q: “When there are so many places in the world (i.e. Paris, Hawaii, San Francisco, Calcutta, Mogadishu, etc.), why Pittsburgh?
It even has the word ‘Pit’ in its name. Is there a wall around the city that prevents you from leaving? Does U-Haul not have a local branch? Do you have a court-ordered tracer cuffed to your ankle? Really, there must be a good reason. (Note: the word ‘Steelers’ doesn’t qualify as a good reason.) Christ, the best museum you have is called ‘The Mattress Factory.’ Has that not caught your attention?”
Internet, let me tell you a little story. Once, a friend of my boss was interested in learning a little bit about Pittsburgh, as his son was an upcoming freshman at Carnegie Mellon. My boss referred him to me, and I set out answering all of his Pittsburgh-related questions. At some point, I inserted a little plug for my town to the tune of “I’ve lived in both New York City and Pittsburgh, and I honestly prefer Pittsburgh.” And do you know what that dick did? He laughed and said, “Well, I don’t know about that.“
So, yes, I love Pittsburgh. I was born here, had to move away (to West Virginia) when I was 9, and after living in WV, Kentucky, New Jersey, and NYC, I returned at the age of 26. I loved moving around and living in new places, and I still get excited at the thought of going somewhere new (like to San Francisco to hang with SF Reader…?), but this is the only place that has ever truly felt like home. I could go on and on about how great I think Pittsburgh is (and hey! So could the New York Times, apparently. See?), but if I do I know I will get all shouty and teary because I LOVE THIS TOWN and I get REALLY DEFENSIVE whenever people still think we’re all steel mills and dirty skies and YES I KNOW Simon was mostly just joking but PITTSBURGH IS MY LADY AND I LOVE HER LONG TIME.
Q: “Have you ever had a sexy dream about a Food Network host? If so, please share the nasty (shameful) details.”
A: Oh, Hillary. You promised me a safe place, and now this.
Yes, Internet, I had a horrific and shameful sexy dream about a Food Network host. Which one, you ask? Well, here’s a hint: just thinking about this dream makes me want to BAM! down the front of my shirt.
THE SHAME! IT BURNS!
Internet, I have no idea where this dream came from. I can’t stand this man, and I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen him on TV, but apparently my subconscious decided it was high time to hatefuck him in dreamland. Here’s what I remember: It was an “Indecent Proposal” kind of set-up, where Emeril was willing to put down a large amount of cash if I spent the weekend with him. Brad and I were both rather casual about agreeing that it was a good financial move (!!!), and for most of the weekend, nothing happened. I remember being at a lot of big, fancy parties with Emeril AND Brad, and all I had to do was, like, sit at Emeril’s table. With my husband. I was distinctly relieved that I was obviously just going to be a paid escort of some kind, and then…Sunday rolled around. There was another large party, and when it was over, Chef Boy-Ar-Douche was all LET’S DO THIS. Now – and this is where you won’t believe me – I don’t remember much about the ensuing sex, except that I bet it smelled a lot like garlic.
From Holly Jane (who – by the way – is an amazing artist and writer, and also wrote something in one of her recent posts that made me laugh so hard I had to get up and walk around to calm myself the fuck down):
Q: “Where is my phone? Also: tell us about that awesome thing Brad did that he is sooo embarrassed about.”
A: Here is where I admit that I don’t know what awesome thing you are referring to (and I also don’t know why I’ve been holding back on a potentially embarrassing story, like, why do I even have a blog if I am not sharing these things?). Brad emailed me yesterday morning, all “What did you say about me?!” and I was all “I have no idea!” and I combed through my recent posts trying to figure it out, and I can’t. Please clarify, if you don’t mind.
And your phone is on the dresser.
From 4th Reader:
Q: “Where are the pictures of Sadie in the ridiculous turtleneck?”
A: This is in response to something I tweeted last week, about Sadie’s RICOCKULOUS (gifted) outfit that day, which included a fucking TURTLENECK, y’all. For a BABY. As Brad said, “Don’t they know babies don’t have necks?” Indeed. Multiple people asked to see photographic evidence of said turtleneck, but I am sad to report that when we picked Sadie up from daycare that afternoon, the turtleneck had fallen victim to a messy diaper change and was wrapped up in a plastic bag. We couldn’t get any pictures just then, but I will be sure to snap a few whenever she wears it again.
Q: “If you could be whisked anywhere in the world, instantly, for 24 hours, all expenses paid, where would you go and why?”
A: I have always really, really wanted to go to Egypt and see the pyramids. When we were in Israel back in 2006, it killed me to know how relatively close we were to Egypt. Like, we could have driven there, except for, you know, war-torn Middle East and bombs and such. Anyway, I’ve always been fascinated by the pyramids and burial chambers and mummies, and the chance to see something that incredibly ancient and mysterious is something I would not pass up.
From Stephanie Z:
Q: “Toilet paper on the roll, over or under? Serious minds would like to know.”
A: OVER. Over over over. There is no other way. I never used to have such a strong opinion about this, but then I got married and had to endure to several way-too-long visits from my in-laws when we were all still in that boundary-setting period, and I SHIT YOU NOT, my mother-in-law would change our toilet paper from over to under EVERY FUCKING TIME SHE WAS IN THE BATHROOM. So you know what I did every fucking time I was in the bathroom? CHANGED IT BACK. And thus the passive-aggressive toilet paper battle continued for roughly a year and a half, until I finally broke her down. I am happy to report that she now leaves the roll alone, and I no longer have to continue with my plan to change the direction of all the rolls in HER house every time we visit.
From The New Girl:
Q: “If you could travel through time, forward or backward, where would you go and why?”
A: I’d give some serious consideration to going back and re-living both my wedding day and Sadie’s birth, but I don’t think I could pass up the opportunity to go back and re-live a few months of high school. I’d be really curious to see what my life was really like (through the filter of my older, wiser, less teen-angst-y eyes), and to also tell certain people to go fuck themselves sideways.
Q: “Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry?”
A: Vanilla. But you just reminded me how much I love Neapolitan ice cream.
From Kristin, who gave me many options to choose from, and I shall answer them ALL:
Q: “Favorite alcoholic drink?”
A: I loves me some wine, but bourbon is my favorite. I’ll take the cheap stuff with Coke and the good stuff on the rocks, please. Yum.
Q: “What is the single worst incident you remember from middle school, otherwise known as ‘the most awkward and miserable school years ever?’”
A: Well, I had a pretty unfortunate run of getting teased in Spanish class in 8th grade (I had to sit in on the 9th graders’ class because of a weird scheduling conflict, and thus was an easy and very nerdy target), and this ran over into also being teased on the bus in the afternoons. I was miserable. The worst part is that I see some of the people who were the cruelest to me on Facebook, and I want to friend them just to tell them I hope their kids aren’t mercilessly teased by cocksucking bullies in Spanish class. But more upsetting than that was the afternoon I found out that my very best friend had been saying awful, horrible things about me behind my back. I had no idea she was doing this, and when I confronted her, she lost her shit and refused to talk to me. Then she moved away to Texas after the school year ended a few months later, and I never heard from her again. This has always made me really sad. Oh! And there was the time I naively thought that a really popular 9th grader would TOTALLY be interested in having a very nerdy 7th grade girlfriend with a rad perm and huge glasses, and I made one of my friends go ask him…well, I can’t remember what she asked him, but I know he did not give a very positive response (OF COURSE HE DIDN’T, YOU MORON), and I was crushed.
Wow. That is a terrible age, isn’t it?
Q: “What’s your stripper name, assuming you were to, you know, BE a stripper?”
A: Well, if you go with that old “first pet you ever had and first street you lived on” algorithm, I’d be “Misty Eisele.” A little boring, I think. But if I could choose, I would be a very sassy “Clam-ity Jane.”
Q: “What’s the most surprising thing about motherhood?”
A: How much I love that kid. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t expect to love her, it was just…much more overwhelming than I anticipated. Also surprising? That another person could barf into my bra and I would not bat an eyelash.
Q: “What do you eat when there’s no one around to see you? (Besides tuna casserole, which I know you make when Brad’s not home.)”
A: Update! Brad now likes tuna noodle casserole! So I have to find an entirely different food to shove in my face when he’s away! But whenever I’m left to my own devices, I will eat completely inappropriate amounts of cheese and hot sauce on whatever food happens to be around to use as a base (rice, pasta, vegetables, MORE CHEESE). I used to also have a very troubling addiction to this horrible stuff, but guess what! One well-timed stomach bug took care of that. Go, rotavirus!
Q: “Are there any global problems that you find yourself worrying about when you aren’t reading/hearing/watching the news? Not what world issue you feel like you should care most about but which one you actually do care/worry most about.”
A: I worry extensively about global-warming-type problems, and that someone is going to go crazy and blow us all up with nuclear weapons. And I pretty much freak out over anything I see on national TV news, which is why I try not to watch it. They reel me right in with the video footage and dramatic voice-overs. Reading the news is much less hysteria-inducing for me.
I also have no problem watching the local news, as they mostly cover stories like “Local Man Steals $45 From Church Spaghetti Dinner!” And I never pass up an opportunity to see this guy Ralph Iannotti do ANYTHING, because they always put him out on the street in 4-degree weather or make him go cover live hostage situations, and the look on his face at all times is “I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT,” and it’s hilarious.
From Daughter of 4th Reader:
Q: “How are you?”
A: My all-time favorite answer to this question is what Brad’s friend James used to say whenever asked the same: “Still fat and black.”
(It may help you to know that James was fat and black.)
From m’lady Kylan:
Q: “Why do you tend to prefer your burrito in a bowl? Not a fan of tortillas? Or is it that you just prefer utensils?? Mmm… Burrito.”
A: Internet, everyone needs a friend like Kylan, who has brought burritos and Indian food to our house numerous times since Sadie came along. I usually request the “naked burrito,” which is just burrito guts in a bowl, and this is because the tortilla only serves to make me too full to finish my entire burrito, and that is very sad. I like tortillas, but I think the beans & cheese & rice are the real stars of the burrito show. I suppose the solution to this would be NOT ordering from a place that serves burritos as big as your forearm, but that would just be ridiculous. Also, it is infinitely easier to eat a big bowl o’ burrito contents while Sadie-wranglin’.
Although if Yo Gabba Gabba is on (as it was here), she will remain motionless for the duration. Also, the leg-up pose is how she prefers to kick it in her high chair. I suppose this is encouraging poor table manners, but I LOVE IT.
*This is my generic disclaimer that these are JOKES, my friends, and NO, OF COURSE I do not find it hilarious that people suffer from dyslexia (except as it relates to the Fonz, obviously).
Just so you know, there is a wealth of knowledge about the Fonz on Wikipedia, including his birth date, a history of his civic involvement, and an entire section called “A troubled past.”
We all realize the Fonz isn’t real, right?
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