Sunday, October 31, 2010

.


RIP mutha freaking mouse. Thank you Jesus that I was not home when that trap snapped and even more thanks that little bugger and his instrument of death were disposed of before I got home. Thank you Jesus and thank you Kev.

Nolan and Pudge, together again. Oh, and the Rangers won game 3. Chalk it up to another one of my greatest moments in baseball - Nolan Ryan throwing out the first pitch to Pudge in game 3. I had goose bumps, head to toe. It was just so punch-you-in-the-gut-good. Some say that it wasn't right to have a still active member in baseball catch the opening pitch for another team but COME ON YA'LL! Pudge plays for the freaking Nationals. Plus, it's Nolan. You haters can suck it.

Get into the spirit dammit. I'm sorry but if you come to my door with a grocery sack and your car that you drove is parked out front and you don't even bother to put on a mask, well guess what, you're not getting any freaking candy. Seriously folks. At least try to get into the spirit. Throw a sheet over your head or hell, at least say trick or treat.

News of the weird. I received a surprise book in the mail the other day, written by an uncle whom I've never met about my biological grandfather whom I've also never met. I stress the word biological. So far the book is one big mind fug so I'm taking it in very small doses. Maybe one day I'll tell you about it.
This just in. The Rangers just lost game 4 at home. Not only that but they got shut out. They've got one more at home before a, the World Series is over, or b, they head back to San Fran. Ouch.

Ugh. Someone get me something to be furiously happy about STAT.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Even Superheroes Have Sometimes Bad Days

Even Superheroes Have Sometimes Bad Days' really is the name of this sculpture. Every Spring Prague's Wenceslas Square hosts an outdoor sculpture garden that runs down the length of the center and this piece was one of my favorites. Because a, it speaks volumes. It's totally right on. And b, it has the best name ever. Am I having a bad day? No, not really. Did I have one last night when the Rangers blew it in the 8th inning and not only had 8 runs scored on them but 2 OF THEM WERE WALKS!?!? Hell yes. It was indeed a bad day. So bad that i didn't even try to embrace my furiously happy. Why bother? I wallowed in the misery of game 2 of the World Series. And then, to add insult to injury, the mouse returned. That's right, the mutha freakin mouse. It first showed up just after game 5 of the ALDS when my Rangers clenched their first post season title. At the time, I was still celebrating at midnight and conspiring with Jamaica to find us playoff tickets for my upcoming D-town trip. It started out as a shadow or blur in my left periphery. If you've ever had a mouse in your mutha freaking house then you know the shadow/blur of which I speak. It never crossed my mind that we had a visitor. By the time the little bastard had made the circuit around the room's perimeter, I had already self-diagnosed myself with either a, a brain tumor, or b, MS, because you know, blurred periphery are symptomatic of both. I could not believe it when it finally came out into the open. I began shouting into the phone, 'There's a mouse in my house! There's a mouse in my house!' Like a good friend, Jamaica laughed her ass off. This was brand new territory for me and while I was freaking out, jumping around the living room and embracing my inner Dr. Seuss (only with LOTS of profanity), my best friend was anything but supportive and my husband was snug as a bug in bed, not to be disturbed by the shenanigans downstairs. So I ditched my friend and texted my neighbor - of the world's greatest neighbors - who simply texted back poison. I couldn't handle it that night. It was threatening my euphoria from my Rangers ALDS win. I asked him if mice could climb stairs. He said no. I went to bed and slept like a rock. I found out the next day that he totally lied to me about the whole stair thing but that's ok. I slept. So 2 weeks later, that little bugger returned only this time with balls of steel. Not only did he rear his ugly little nose at the bottom of the 8th during the worst game ever, but it was only 10 p.m. and every light in the house was on. Balls of steel! Norman simply tilted his head and whimpered slightly -Hell, he and the mouse probably hang out when we're not there. Kev was there to see the mutha freakin mouse in action, and then disappear into thin air - again. Apparently mice only need a quarter of an inch of space to maneuver through. Creepy. So now we have traps plied with peanut butter and hopefully they're out of reach of Norman's nose. But I'll tell you what, the day I hear one of those traps snap, I'm outta here. That one's gonna be Kev's.
So there you have it, long story short. In one night, in one inning, I found my furiously happy kryptonite twice, and it wasn't pretty. Cau for now. Here's hoping for a better game 3.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Hellz. Yeahz.

Yep, my money's on these guys...

I wasn't there but it didn't matter. We started off at Union Jacks where we sat at the bar, head to toe in Rangers gear. Loners in a Midwest town. The game was slow until the 5th inning when I ordered my Ranger IPA, then all hell broke loose and the Rangers scored 4 more runs. I even told the bar tender, You know what? I'll take a Ranger IPA. Last time I did that good things happened. Totally true story. The bar tender was impressed to say the least. So I'm not saying I had anything to do with their Game 6 ALCS win, but I'm just sayin... Ranger IPA needs to be your beer of choice for the next 2 weeks, deal?

We caught the last 2 innings at our next door neighbors', who happen to be the best neighbors ever. At 11 p.m. we invaded their living room (a common occurrence) where the game was on and their 8 & 5 year olds were asleep on the a pallet, facing the TV. Cute. I tried to control myself as best I could util the bottom of the 9th when A-Rod of all people, poetically struck the fug out. Yep, full circle. I danced like a crazy person while 5-year old Jake questioned my seizure-like antics, I couldn't believe it and yet I soooooo could. History was made and I like to think that the world and all anti-Yankees fans rejoiced.

I'm stating for the record/blog that even if my Rangers don't win the World Series, I will still love them just the same. The real question though is Will you?

See you Wednesday, 7:30 p.m. EST and don't forget to order your Ranger IPA dammit.
Cau for now.

Furiously Happy PS - When I went to sleep that night, I remember thinking that there wasn't much at that point that could make me as happy as the Rangers winning the game. But that night, I dreamt that I was at a private movie screening (you know, because that's how I roll) and Stevie Wonder sat right down next to me and I bawled like a baby. Again. So unless Stevie Wonder comes my way any time soon, the ALCS win will be my top furiously happy moment. The end.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Best. Day. Ever.

The perfect start to my Dallas trip (other than flying first freaking class)

This day was my furiously happy that I clung to for the rest of my D-town Days. Bless you Jamaica and Gary. I'd have wound up in fetal position in the corner of some strange room without this day of fun. It actually made me miss Texas.
Other things that made me miss Texas...

Big Tex in his latest State Fair fashion.


It's totally true, everything's fried in Texas, even the caviar! And for the record, the edgiest I got as far as the fried fair fare, was the State Fair of Texas staple - The Fletcher's Corn Dog. It just doesn't get much better than that:
I was also privy to some rockin' outfits that can only be rocked in the 90 degree October Texas weather. I took pictures of course, but failed to get media releases so you will just have to use your imaginations. Highlights included sequined see-through tops with cheek-hugging jorts, black velvet long-sleeves with super short jorts, and one of the worst for me was knee-high Uggs with, you guessed it, jorts. God bless Texas.
After our whirl-wind trip through the land of all things fried (and a surprise visit from my awesome Smelley Kelley), next stop was Mecca. My Mecca anyways. As in this place:

Please note the 51,000+ fans in the background. Jamaica totally pulled through in scoring playoff tickets - Thank you Sarah and Kenny for the greatest night EVER!

True story #1: When I took my first step inside and heard the deafening roar of the crowd, felt the insane energy, and saw all the fans - finally, fans - I cried. Why am I a big fat cry baby? Because in the 15+ years I've gone to that ballpark (with a few trips to the old one tucked under my belt), I can't think of a time when it was more than half full. Except maybe when the Yankees or Sox were in town - and they were Sox and Yankees fans - but still, it was never ever full ya'll. And who cares if the majority of the fans didn't emerge until post season, the point is, they are here and they are fans. I hope they stay. I would be happy if even half stuck around.

True Story #2: I cried again when Nolan Ryan threw out the first pitch. Why was I a big fat cry baby again?? Because it's Nolan freaking Ryan. It'd all come full circle and he and the Rangers were finally where they belonged. Where they've been headed all season.

True Story #3: It was the greatest game of my life, even though they lost. An amaze-balls 7 1/2 innings before it all went to hell. Just being there, seeing it, taking it all in... Yep, greatest night ever.

True Story #4: Dear Mr. Jerry Jones, George Lucas called and he wants his Death Star back. The new Cowboy Stadium, located right next to the Ballpark (much to my surprise) totally looks like the Death Star. Especially at Sunset:

Just sayin.
Cau for now and GO RANGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday, October 15, 2010

Tales of a First Class Poser


This is me, Schovillova, writing from - brace yourself - First freaking Class. Yup, suddenly my lack of Xanex? Not such a big deal. As I sit here happily in my First Class seat and wait for the Business Classers to herd their way by, I chuckle to myself thinking If they only knew....

True story I managed to get to the airport 90 minutes early, which, if you know me at all, you know that never happens. Last Minute Molly, that's me. But not today. Kev and I were on it. 3 hours of sleep and we're amazingly efficient. Upon check-in I'm prompted to upgrade to First Class. On any other day I would scoff indignantly, but today, the prompt came with the super-low price of $60. Seriously? The prompt then went on to tease me with free check-in luggage, free lunch and free booze! So, what the hell? Let's do this First Class thing!

From check-in to gate, the process took a whopping 7 minutes and I got more smiles and have-a-nice-trips than I think I have in my life time. Oh, flying First Class today Mrs. Schoville? (notice the correct pronunciation of the last name) Well then have a fantastic flight and excellent day! I'm not kidding folks. That actually happened. I almost gave myself away by saying something to the effect of Oh really? So if I was flying Business Class you'd want me to have a shitty day? But I didn't. I smiled back – grinned like an idiot actually – and said Thanks! You too!!!! I was on my way to First Class, old blue jeans, Beetles t-shirt, flip flops and all. When I go to the gate though, reality krept in. I glanced down at my toes in horror as I realized that my flip-flop wearing feet were not even remotely in first Class condition. Why did I miss that pedicure appointment the other day!? I quickly whipped out my bottle of Essie Material Girl #617 and went to town, hoping that this didn't give me away. Ah, success.

I admit, I was a bit giddy. I've never flown FC. Was it all that people say it is? Do you really get warm towelettes and eye pillows? Drinks before take-off? Seats that recline and private restrooms? I couldn't wait to find out and so now I'm (finally) here to dispel for you, fact from crap when it comes to First Class flyin...

Fact. You're number one. First through Security and first to board. It's almost like the parting of the Red Sea. People just get out of your way and smile ear to ear.

Crap. No pre-flight bevs in First Class. Sad. Those don't appear until post takeoff and post-moist towelette – see below.

Fact. Sweet seats. Roomy, and soft. I'm sitting cross-legged as I type and I could swear I feel lower lumbar support. The seat in front of me has a padded backing to it, and behind that is a lovely little plastic-wrapped red blanket! Remember those? They still exist – in First Class of course.

Crap. The seats must stay in an upright position. At least on this flight. Balls. And altho cozy, they're almost a little too high tech for me for I'm still not sure where my tray is. It's definitely not in the seat in front of me and it seemed to have appeared out for nowhere for the guy next to me. I fear that asking would most certainly give my poser self away.

Fact. Moist towelettes. Even before we make it to cruising altitude the HOT moist towelettes are being distributed by tongs. I totally flinched as it dropped into my cupped hands. SHIT! That's HOT! I screamed internally. But a quick glance around at my fellow FC-er's said that the temp was totally normal. Normal. Ha. Taking their cues I quickly toweled off my hands (why am I doing this?) and opted not to towel off my face and head (perhaps if I was bald I guess I would have). Yep, just another day in First Class.

Fact. DRINKS ARE FREE! A bloody mary to start and red wine to finish. Not only that, but they keep walking around trying to top me off. Scary. Do they know it's only noon in Dallas?

Crap. Not so sweet restrooms. They're normal, just like any other restroom found in Business Class. Damn. I even brought my camera in there just in case.

Fact. Things are down-right toasty in FC. Post towelettes and upon my FREE drink order I was handed a little white dish (as in dishes, as in glassware) of toasted (or nuked) mixed nuts. Think about it.

Fact. Lunch is a real lunch and it is free. And hot. And a lot. Yep, I feasted on Chicken Parm, green beans, a lovely little side salad and a bag of pita chips and side of hummus. And it came with a real linen napkin, utensils that did not bend or melt upon cutting, and real dishware. My tray also came stocked with a little wine glass which of course was expected to be filled promptly, hence the red wine follow-up that I'd in no way budgeted for emotionally but oh well, what's a First Class flier to do? Oh, and after the lunch dishes were cleared, a little warm macadamia nut and cranberry cookie was passed out with guess what – warm towelettes.

Crap. There are no eye pillows. There weren't any that I could detect however I'm confident that if I'd asked for one it would have appeared promptly.

Take off and landing was smooth as butter and I had my new Furiously Happy Mix playing in my ears. I was even totally cordial to the man next to me on the plane who let me know that they'd asked for us to turn off all electronic devices during take off. Since I'm off the Xanex sir, it's either music in my ears or I squeeze the crap out of your hand while I curl into fetal position in my huge First Class seat... But I didn't say that. Instead I smiled really big, embracing my inner furious happy, and simply said Thank you sir, but I really need the music to keep me calm. He just shrugged and went back to his book, judging from the cover it was something about Obama, and the Devil, and the End of Days. Gotta love First Class.

Cau for now folks

Sunday, October 10, 2010

It's time to get furiously happy ya'll.

Long story short, my good friend/work spouse Pamb turned me onto this blog. With overt hilarity and in-your-face crassness, the Bloggess has had me laughing my ass off for 3 days straight because frankly my dear, she doesn't give a damn. She writes the way I talk when I'm intoxicated, only brilliant and with less slur. She says out loud what most of us think - not all of us. Yes, you know who you are and aren't. Anyhoo....

In a recent post she talks about being furiously happy In fact, she started a bit of a movement and I am here to keep the momentum going as we head into yet another Monday - Damn Mondays never stop coming. So, instead of being negative (who me?) or sulky or visibly affected by this event or any other, I will be FURIOUSLY HAPPY. She linked this video and it totally makes me furiously happy. In fact, whomever dares to rain on my parade this week or look at me sideways, be warned, for I will break into furiously happy mode and start grinning like an idiot. I might even drool and this music will play in my head while I break into a Molly Ringwald-like dance. And when the plane takes off and touches down on Thursday, it will be Lisztomania blasting in my ears.

Until then and after, it will be my personal mission to revive and seek out those things that will make me - and you - furiously happy in the most vengeful way. Like this video... I laughed so hard water flew out my nose. True story. I just didn't see it coming.


Happy Monday ya'll. Now let us raise our glasses to one
furiously freaking happy week.

Cau for now.

Yours,
Schovillova

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Mama's Little Helpers

Next week I head to Dallas. Per usual I am looking forward to it in my anxiety inducing way. Yes, me, anxiety. I didn't officially know that's what it was until one day the doctor said the words anxiety disorder and I was like, 'who me?' And he's like, 'Yeah, you with the tears, hypeventilating in the corner of my office. I'm talking to you.' I was there to get my first real prescription for Xanax, even though I'd been taking it for years when faced with visits to the dentist and plane rides alone. Oh, and funerals. I've also been known to mix (too many) drinks with said Xanax on solo flights. I have a body count of missed connecting flights that's blush-worthy but I'm working on it. I will not reveal my series of sources and suppliers and for the record I've always been a bit of a Xanax lightweight, keeping the dosages low but effective. Like I said, plane trips. Dentists. Funerals... So be it.

At some point though over the past couple of years, 'trips home' have made its way onto my list of triggers. Don't get me wrong, I love the hell out of my family and all the nuts that have fallen from its tree, but when you live far away and can only make it back to visit once a year (maybe) the demands can be high. Thus, lots of alcohol and yes, Xanax. I realize this. I admit this. But I don't exactly like this. The chest tightening, the guilt, the never wanting to say good-bye and see-you-soon, knowing that 'soon' really means 'next year'. An emotional roller coaster ride that has me scrambling for Mama's little helpers. And then, the light softens, things start to fuzz a little and I find a mild numbing sensation lightly buzzing just under the surface. Suddenly, it's not a big deal.

But next week I'm turning over a new leaf. I think. My prescription has run out and I find myself faced with three options: a) go back to the doc, bawl like a baby and score some new drugs, b) call my mom and see if she can spare any - which would be purely coincidental of course, or c) go without. Tentatively, I pick 'c'. I'm going without. But bringing my running shoes, my yoga mat, a brown paper bag (for the fireball and end-of-days thoughts that will accompany me on the plane), and cash for drinks. I will turn up the tunes and enjoy the ride. I think.

Cau for now. Wish me luck.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Shhhhhh...

Can you keep a secret? Just between you and me, I must confess...

I RAN THE OTHER DAY.
And it was glorious.

For the record it was not planned, it just kind of... happened. Here's how it went down.

Me, I had a shitty day. That's right, I said shitty. I hit my wall when I had officially missed my 5:30 Yoga class, the class that I look forward to the most, the one that keeps me going from one week to the next. The one that for the most part, I have no excuse to miss. Usually. But on this particular day I missed it and by the time I got home I was huffing and puffing, brooding. Kev suggested I take Norm-Dog for a walk so I grabbed the leash, the dog and the ipod and I was on my way. My shitteous mood had me listening to an old running mix as I power-walked my way up to 46th, still huffing and puffing, still brooding.

As soon as Mr. Brightside came on I couldn't stand it anymore. I shortened my strides and upped my speed, waiting for the pain. But the pain never came. In all honesty my running speed wasn't much faster than my walking speed but still, my pulse was racing and I was sweating! It actually even felt - dare I say - good. I ran back down to 43rd, back up to 46th and then back to Chez Schoville. By the time I got home, I was huffing and puffing but for a totally new reason, I was smiling like a deranged lunatic and my head was buzzing. Although it was only a mile, it may as well have been 10. It'd been more than a year since my last run.

Of course Kev questioned my sanity and my decision, but he knew. He got it. I'm a big girl and I'm not going to push it like I did before. I was careful. And you know what? It didn't hurt the next day. OR the day after that. And truth be told I haven't run since because I'm still a bit weary, but I might try again tomorrow. This is me not pushing it. This is me being a big girl. An adult.
So don't fret, k?

And I Say Thank You For the Music

Lately I've been listening to my ipod on shuffle. I do this every so often and it never ceases to take me on a series of emotional roller coasters, bouncing me back and forth through time and space - and place. Decades of tunes on that one little device, wielding so much power.

Sometimes I think that if it weren't for music, I'd have few memories to call my own. James Taylor and Don Williams remind me that I used to dance and spin in my dad's office when I was no higher than his desk. AC/DC & Metallica take me to the dirt bike races with my uncles in the early 80's while Stevie Wonder's I Just Called to Say I Love You puts me in the back seat of my mom's silver Cutlass, lip-sync serenading with Alethea and Amy Rodamaker to the poor man stuck behind us in traffic. Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy has me watching in awe as my grandparents Jitterbugged all over the room, soon followed by Moonlight Serenade. U2's The Joshua Tree was the first time that I really felt music in my stomach, Debbie Gibson was the first to make me cry over a boy (sad) and Melissa Etheridge was the first time a song let me let some anger out - see: Like the Way I Do. Little did I know she was singing about girls back in '88 but you get the picture.

When I hear these songs and these artists, it's like a mental photo album opens up and the pages start to turn. Only these vivid snap shots surpass the visionary and auditory senses as they tangle with smell, taste and touch. It's overwhelming sometimes. I wonder though, when I'm old and gray, if this will still be the case. Will my music combat the forces of age and dementia, and remind me of those that I have loved and lost? Will it let me remember the happy times, the sad times and the mad times? I have music for all of those. And while I still have my wits about me, I'd like to remember these folks that laid the foundation...

Mom - all things CCR, Tina Turner, Bonnie Raitt, Willie and George
Alethea - U2, Led Zepplin, Van Morrison, The Cure, Madonna, Radiohead... and so many more
Dad -Vivaldi, Jazz and John Lennon
Aunt Anne -The Police and Duran Duran
Grammie - Patsy Cline
Bubba - Abba
Camp Langston - Vanilla Ice, 2-Pac and Brooks & Dunn

I am forever grateful for the friends who followed, who opened my ears and heart to new sounds, and those that still do so today. From summer camp, to high school, college, jobs, family and countries, it's the music that stays in my head. It reverberates throughout my house and envelopes me in my car, reaching through my ear buds and straight to my toes. It keeps me forever connected, and forever remembering you.

Cau for now.