Super Music Saturdays!

This video seems oddly appropriate today.

Twelve hours from now I’ll either be whooping it up at the Elks Lodge with two handfuls of mozzarella cheese sticks, two feet wobbling with mad crazy rhythm, and a tongue dripping with amicability (and cheese), or I’ll be back home. In my pajamas. With a wallet that’s fifty dollars skinnier and a heaping plastic tablespoon of No Ira Glass regret.

I’ll be in touch. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Pour some sugar on me, 1988.

Okay, guys. I need some help.

It seems that my 20 Year High School Reunion is in three days.

I knew it was coming up. It is. In three days.

This leaves me no time to lose those last few pounds, grow out my hair, or become a surgeon. If nothing else, I’m hoping (with your help, of course) that I can choose The Perfect Ensemble.

The reunion invitation states that dress is casual. However, I think I know better than that. These women (of which I am one! A Woman! I know!) haven’t seen each other in two decades. (Unless, unlike me, they attended the ten year reunion. Or, unlike me, perhaps they have the ability to maintain friendships from their teenage years. I’ve been in touch with no one. NO ONE. In other words, I’m walking into a room of strangers, and the only thing they might remember about me is that I tend to wear fake glasses and I fall down quite a bit.) Where was I? Oh, yeah. These women haven’t seen each other in two decades. You can’t tell me they’re going to be all, “Casual! Great! Honey, where are my cut-off shorts and my INXS t-shirt?”

This is where you come in. I’m about to give you three options. Please tell me which is most appropriate.

skirt

Here we have a knee-length denim skirt, a black t-shirt, and a short sleeved jacket thing that originally sold for $116, but I managed to score it for $11. Also, red patent Danskos. Because if I’m going to drink wine and fall down, I want everyone to notice my shiny feet. Not my Hanes Her Way underpants. (Note: Why, yes. I often stand like a flamingo when I’m sipping wine (or Pomegranate juice, in this case). Thanks for noticing!)

Next up? The dress that shows a bit of cleavage.

dress

I purchased this dress for BlogHer, and it’s the most comfortable dress I’ve ever owned. Also, it requires absolutely no ironing! Polyester! With dots! And although I’m sporting black shoes, I think this might look a bit more dangerous with red shoes. Maybe. What do you think? (My grandma gave that stein to Jeff for Christmas many years ago. He keeps it in the freezer, and when he drinks from it, he speaks nothing but German. Obviously, I’m lying. BUT, cool stein. Cold stein, even. Klirrend!)

The final choice is a literal one. If you’re telling me that this event is truly casual, well, this is what you’re going to get.

sticks

Ratty jeans that may or may not be too tight, a black tank top that never really makes its way out of my drawer, my Ben Folds Five bucket hat, and my scratched up sunglasses. Also, a big stupid bag of frozen fish sticks, because I have to be holding something or else my hands will constantly be nervously shooting up to my face. (We’ll talk about that next week.)

So, anyway. Help.

Oh, yeah. Get this. Ira Glass is coming to town the night of my reunion. This is a huge conflict for me. If you know me at all, you know that I would drop just about anything to see Ira Glass. Let me just say this: If I have to wait 20 years to see Ira Glass again, I’m going to be So Angry with these people who waited 20 years to see me again. (I realize no one has really been waiting. If this thing wasn’t being held at an Elks Lodge, I’m positive I could do the Fly on the Wall game and no one would even recognize me!) If you live in St. Louis, please go see Ira Glass Saturday night. And while you’re there, pour a little of your drink to the floor and whisper something like, “For my misplaced homey, Fluid Pudding.”

I wonder if I should videotape the reunion so you can see how awkward I am in uncomfortable situations. Do you want me to? Because at this point, I’ll do just about anything for you. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s the Autumnal Equinox Giveaway!

I don’t have anything against Miley Cyrus. Anything she does, naked or not naked, is none of my business. (Although the media is dying for me to know that Miley took a 20-year-old tank top sporting boy to church last weekend, I really couldn’t care less. However, for some unknown reason, I’m retaining that information.)

A few weeks back I received an e-mail from the kind folks at Build-A-Bear asking if they could send a Hannah Montana bear to the girls, along with a $25 gift card to be given away at Fluid Pudding. Knowing that my kids would either fight over or just not get into the Hannah Montana bear, I went ahead and took it (with the card) and set the plan to give it all away.

Less than 24 hours after signing on to take the bear, the biggest Hannah Montana fan I know fell and broke her arm at a friend’s house. And what sucks is that this girl loves gymnastics, but can no longer participate with a huge cast on her arm. And when kids get their feelings hurt along with their bones, my heart bleeds. Immediately, I knew who would get the bear. (Closed door! Open window! Not really. But sort of!)

Look at this bear:
HMBear

Adorable. Fuzzy. Soft. Wearing a glittery shirt that says Ready to Rock. And although it lacks the ability to mend bones, it did bring a smile to the recipient’s face. And that’s never a bad thing.

All of this to say: If you’re interested in the $25 gift card to Build-a-Bear, I can hook you up. $25 would get you a naked Hannah Montana Bear (you can stage your own Vanity Fair photo shoot!), or just about any other Build-A-Bear friend. Best of all, Build-A-Bear sells donation animals. When you purchase a donation animal, a percentage of the proceeds is donated to charity. I hereby encourage you to use the card toward the purchase of a donation animal.

Anyway, leave a comment below and I’ll enter you in the drawing. On Friday at noon (CST), I’ll draw a name and notify the winner! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

How to Jump Start a Perfect Day

I’m about to tell you about my Yesterday Morning.

But before I do, go click on this for background music, because it sums up the feel of the morning pretty perfectly. (Incidentally, this is one of two pieces of music that I practiced and practiced (and practiced!) but never seemed to get quite right. The other is this one. By the way, I’m starting to get the itch to pick up the piano again. Here’s hoping I don’t give myself a hernia! HA HA HA!!! Those things are heavy! Oh. GET IT?! Anyway.)

Do we have our accompaniment going? Okay then. Onward.

Yesterday morning my mom came over and the two of us (plus Harper, of course) went to one of my favorite yarn stores. (My mom is itching to start a Hemlock Ring Blanket, and she needed the right yarn for the job. You know how it is.)

Anyway, we grabbed some coffee, drove about ten miles, parked the car, and entered the store. When we walked in, the owner told me that she and another employee had just been talking about me. Long story short? She offered me a job. Working in a yarn store. And I know it’s totally hokey to be all “Pinch me! Am I dreaming?!”, but there you go. Also, I would scream out that thing about “Do what you love and the money will follow!”, but that’s sort of wilted, too. Rattlesnakes! Beat them with a baseball bat!

So, yeah. Tomorrow I’m going in to talk details, and then fairly soon I’ll be working in a yarn store for a few nights each week. And, I’m excited. AND, I’m choosing to spend the next few weeks immersed in information. Because if someone comes in and says something like “Which right leaning decrease do you prefer?”, I don’t want to have to run and find a book.

Next up? Figuring out The Perfect Wardrobe for a less than ten hours per week job. (I tend to freelance in my pajama pants. The frog ones. Just in case you wondered.)

One more thing. You are now talking to the Head Room Mother for Meredith’s class. What does this mean? It means that I am The Boss of All Parents. (Not really. But it DOES mean that I get to plan parties. And we all know how great I am at planning parties! The Puddings are constantly welcoming guests into their home for crazy-time parties! Right?!) (I can’t remember the last time someone not blood-related walked into our house. Unless you count last week’s plumber who fixed our little Feces in the Basement problem. Wait. Feces in the Basement. Now THAT’S a smart party theme!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Rattlesnake Bit the Baby

It was seven years ago today that I wore Capri pants to Starbucks and tried to impress a gaggle of high school boys by blasting The Weakerthans at them with my car stereo. And then I decided to sign up and document the experience at Fluid Pudding Dot Blogspot Dot Com, because I knew The World would give a crap.

Because today marks seven years of Fluid Pudding, I’ve decided to share the video that some of you have asked for in the past few months. (For which some of you have asked. For. With. Around the house. Beside the house. Between the house. I’ve really been haunted by prepositions lately.)

Also, because I’ll be wearing my Mommy Blogger bandanna tonight, let’s make this thing look as mommyblogesque as possible, shall we? Here’s a video of my kid! Cha cha cha!

Thanks for making the past seven years so interesting.
Shall we embark on seven more? ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>