Speed and Penny Make a Porno.

No, not really, but I have seen his new Speed Racer sheets up close in person.

So I've been fighting a nasty cold, which, historically, is probably really Strep, again. In fact, get this - I took myself to Urgent Care the other day because the last time I was there for Strep (Valentine's Day, remember?) . . .



By the way, does it count as Dropping Major Coin on me that night if it comes out of your Flex Spending Account?

. . . they suggested I come back after I had finished all of my antibiotics to get swabbed again and make sure the Strep was gone.

Every time I've gone in to Urgent Care, they've swabbed me twice - one quick test where they give you the quick results in about 10 minutes, which may or may not be accurate (case in point, last time I was there the quick screen was negative), and then they send the other swab to...

(insert thunderclap, flash of lightning and evil laughter)

THE LAB.

They told me the office was completely out of the quick-screen Strep tests. I feel partially responsible, as I've certainly used up more than my fair share. Anyway, they've sent my deepest throat cells to THE LAB. We should hear back the results by Monday. Just in time for Spring Break. That's my life in a nutshell, folks.


Yesterday I watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno (hence the cryptic title) and, let me just explain something to the Muggles - Knitters watch movies through different eyes. We zoom in on the handknits. We can't help it. Anyone who's seen a movie with me in the past 5 years has probably witnessed this phenomenon.

Strictly from a Knitter's perspective, Zack and Miri was brilliant. An extravaganza of knitted items that I could probably actually make (i.e. mostly scarves). Behold -













Poncho with flowers







Ooooh, I loved this, she's about to walk into the door of her apartment and there are like five scarves hanging up.





Pretty sure that hat is felted wool.

I totally loved this movie.
Hand knits, foul language and full frontal male nudity.
These are a few of my favorite things.

Dad, Mom, The Apes and The JoBros.

If you've been following along, you might remember that my dad's prostate surgery was yesterday. It appears to have gone well. They inserted like 70 of the radiation seeds. And here's where my sense of humor comes from, kids. Leaving the surgery, Dad wore a pair of flannel pajama pants that he's had for years. They have this symbol on them.

He has to go back for testes... I mean, TESTS, in three weeks, which will be after we're there. We leave for Texas on the 12th, we think. We're taking the Odyssexy. Can't even wait.

Anyway, yesterday Dad called me from the car on the way home from his surgery, and I kept hearing,

"Go ahead, Love, go..."

"No! Wait!! There's a truck coming!"

"I see it, I see it, but it's all the way over there, you have room... "

"No! No I don't! Just wait!"

(exasperated sigh)

And I remembered the time when my mom drove me home after I had four impacted wisdom teeth cut out many years ago. The surgery itself was an absolute nightmare, and I had had an actual nightmare the night before in which I dreamed that I woke up mid-surgery to find a bunch of bloody hooks and needles sticking out of my face.

In reality the doctor had to give me nitrous in order to put the IV in my hand because I was so freaked out, and the last thing I remember hearing was the doctor saying, "She's fighting, she's fighting... turn it up!" True story.

Believe it or not, that wasn't the worst part of my day. The worst part was that afterwards, I couldn't relax with the knowledge that I was getting to go home and sleep. No. I had to dread the ride home.

My mother does NOT drive. I think in the entire three years I lived with my parents in San Antonio, I saw her drive maybe five times.

I was laying in a fetal position in the back seat of the Sentra wagon, doped up on morphine, alternately throwing up blood and sobbing from the pain. I BEGGED her to get on the highway so I could get home and get in my bed.

What would have been maybe a ten minute drive took forty minutes, as Mom would only drive on streets that aren't "way too busy". Those streets are busy BECAUSE THEY'RE THE FASTEST WAY FOR MOST PEOPLE TO GET TO WHERE PEOPLE NEED TO GO. And you can't say anything to her about it, or she'll dig in her heels even deeper and be more resolute in her belief that behind the wheel of every other car on the road is a "crazy person" intent on killing us all.

I totally felt my dad's pain. Well, being a girl, I can only imagine the actual pain he was dealing with, but I could relate to his frustration, for sure. Putting Mom in charge of driving you home after a painful surgery, when you're in pain and desperate to get home in a hurry, is like kickin ya while yer down. A kick in the nuts, as it were, in this particular case.

Regardless of the type and number of drugs you're on, regardless of the amount of pain you're in, regardless of your mental state or physical ability to see the road and maneuver the wheel and the pedals, you are far better off driving YOURSELF home. You could have just had a full lobotomy and had all four limbs amputated - you're still going to get home faster driving yourself than if you let my mom drive you. Shit, you'd get home faster CRAWLING.

I thought of that Wisdom Teeth Surgery/Mom Driving Debacle a second time today, as Speed Racer and I picked our friend RevDev up at the hospital after her foot surgery. RevDev is such a trooper, even when I'm practically humping her leg, trying to get her wheelchair up the steps in front of her apartment. She's adorable.

But that's not what I was going to write about.


I know this'll probably shock the shit outta y'all, but I'm rather lax with my language at home.

I've heard Pie say "shit" while playing XBox. He has a bit of a lisp, so it sounded like "SIT!!", but he and I both knew what he said.

I've heard Tito call Pie a "twatty". Apparently I use the word twatty more than I realized. Remind me to tell you the difference between Cunty and Twatty sometime.

Beebie had an upset stomach, so R gave her some Junior Pepto. Her response? "UGH! This stuff tastes like ass!!"

Yup. I love my life.


So, in more Ape Squad News, Monday night I took the Apes to see The Jonas Brothers 3D Concert Experience movie which I thought would be a fun surprise for them. Turns out, I was surprised too, beginning at the ticket window.

One Adult and Three Children for Jonas Brothers, please.

Yes, ma'am. That'll be sixteen dollars.

Handed the guy a $20 bill. He just looked at me. What? What was wrong with my money?

That's only twenty, ma'am.

My Inside My Head Voice - Yeah, I know it's twenty, Dumbass, you owe me four. It's fuckin first grade math.

It's SIXTY DOLLARS, ma'am.

My Out Loud Voice - Are you fucking serious???

For sixty dollars, the Jonas Brothers better be nekkid. At least the oldest one. Kevin, I believe his name is. You may be aware that I have a thing for Kevins. I'm working through it, though. I've thinned my Kevin collection recently. Reduced it by 50%, in fact. Difficult, but ultimately liberating. I feel fantastic; not anything like that girl you might remember from July 2008.

The movie was actually rather enjoyable, surprisingly. Not so much the movie itself, but the 3D technology and watching the kids react to it was really fun. My favorite part was sitting next to Beebie and snarking through the whole thing. It was a beautiful chick-bonding experience.

In 3D.

Another Birthday ShoutOut

A very Happy Birthday to longtime reader, my beloved Gentle Evil Baritone. Bobby came across my blog one day completely by accident, and he sent me my very first fan letter! I was floored!

Too bad they don't make Sweeney Todd bedsheets. :)

Here's why I lost Star Wars Trivial Pursuit --- Cuz I Suck.

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.


I think I speak for R, The Racers and Rip when I say there were nothing but wieners at Chez Karma last night.

Winners, I mean. WINNERS. :)

I spoil my friends.

If I had any morals, this would probably qualify as a Moral Conflict.

Today is Speed Racer's birthday.

But that's not the moral conflict.

Last weekend I went to Speed's exclusive birthday party. You can spin it as Exclusive when there weren't many people there. It makes you sound cooler.

Anyhoo... part of the entertainment began when Mrs. Racer whipped out Trivial Pursuit.

Speed INSTANTLY started trash texting me from across the table, telling me I was, as they say, Going Down. That part of the evening came after everyone else went home, but I digress. Heh heh...

The teams were evenly matched - Speed, Jessica and Cara versus me, RevDev and Mrs. Racer. Mrs. Racer, a wee bit tipsy, excused herself shortly after the game began, leaving me and RevDev to fend for ourselves.

Long story short, RevDev and I still won. DECISIVELY. And Speed's still bitter, so he's calling for a rematch. Here's the conflict I'm dealing with -

The rematch is not just a Trivial Pursuit game rematch.
It's a STAR WARS TRIVIAL PURSUIT GAME rematch.

Well played, Racers. Well played.

So is my desire to keep my borderline geek status in the closet greater than my desire to rip my competitor's still-beating heart out with a rusty spoon (laughing maniacally) and show it to him before I tear it into tiny bits?

We'll find out Saturday. BRING IT ON.

WWPKD?

It's important to me that the people who read my blog feel that they know the true me. And for the most part, I'd say you do. I am candid. I am blunt. I am transparent. The person you know as PK is, for the most part, me.

But I'm also Sarah. Nonconfrontational Drama Queen (a contradiction in terms, perhaps) Sarah. Neurotic and frazzled, indecisive and spineless Sarah. And the Inner Circle knows that sometimes, PK is more who I wish I was than who I actually am.

The things I write about really do happen to me, and sometimes Bite your tongue and don't rock the boat Sarah reacts and sometimes Fuck to the yeah! Rock this bitch! PK reacts. Sometimes I will find myself in a situation and literally stop and ask myself, "What Would Penny Karma Do?"

So, just to highlight the difference between Penny and Sarah, I did the little experiment Yorkie recently featured in her Den Of Iniquity. You're supposed to go to Google Search, enter your first name followed by the word NEEDS, and blog the top ten results you get. Are Penny's needs different from Sarah's needs? Let's find out...

Sarah Needs:

1. A Cold Shower

2. Self-Esteem

3. More Love

4. Sponsors To Compete In Deaf Olympics

5. A Band

6. To Lean On Her Man

7. To Hand Him One Of Those Weapons That Went Off Without Warning

8. To Write Joe Jonas

9. To Read Mark Twain

And my personal favorite:

10. Mistress Sarah Needs Deprived, Weak Men.



Conversely, here's what Penny needs...

Penny needs to Switch Meds.

Penny needs A Bra.

Penny needs A Home.

Penny needs A Lovely Tattoo.

The DIS-Honorable Judge Penny needs to revisit the word of God.

Penny needs A Makeover.

Penny needs A Disappearing Act.

Penny needs to go away and suck on Salma Hayek's chichis, because that's what she really wants in life.

Penny needs to be an indoor only cat without any small children.

Penny needs a Valium.


I'm thinking I'd rather hang out with Penny than Sarah.
Your thoughts?

Email from my son.

My kids each have their own email addresses, and occasionally I send them little notes so I can watch their excitement when they see a (1) in their Inbox. Here's an exchange between me and Tito:


From: Mom
Subject: I Love You
To: Tito
Date: Saturday, February 21, 2009, 7:53 PM


I love you, my sweet boy!

Love, Mommy


From: Tito
Subject: Re: I Love You
To: Mom
Date: Saturday, February 21, 2009, 7:55 PM


mom you mak me unbrst



I asked Tito what Un-Burst meant, and he said,

"NO, Mom. You make me UNBARRASSED."


Get used to it, kid.



ETA: I'm saving this pic for your first date.

Why I love Rip.

Let it be known to the world that I absolutely adore Rip. In the short time I've known him, he has become one of the dearest friends I have. He'll tell me straight out when he thinks I'm being an asshole, he'll listen when I tell him straight out that he's being an asshole, and we both know that we mean Asshole as a term of endearment.

The following is but a brief sampling of why Rip rocks.


Rip gives me interesting stuff to do.

At 3:30 on a Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting on my bed watching Dr. Phil. Suddenly I heard Rosemary Clooney singing Come On A' My House, which meant that Rip was calling me from wherever he was, I couldn't remember.

Hey, baby! Where are you?

Hey, PK! I'm in Minnesota, and I'm about to get on the plane for Philadelphia. I have a huuuuuuge favor to ask of you. And if you can't do it, it's totally fine, but if you can it would really be helping me out.

Ok, sure, what do you need?

Skater has to pay this ticket today or there's going to be a warrant out on him. He might have already paid it, I don't know, but I doubt it. He's not answering his phone.

Well, how much is it?

It's $75ish, I think.

Dude, we don't get paid until Thursday. I don't think I have $75 in the bank right now.

We're the kind of friends that I can tell him I have no money.

Ok, how about this - use your key, go over to my house, get my checkbook and go over to the Dillydale Police Station and settle up. Thank you SO MUCH, you are the BEST.

I'm on it!

I got to feel like I was entrusted with a super secret mission that only a highly trained specialist can handle (or someone with a key to his house, at least), and thusly, an afternoon spend watching Dr. Phil's hillbilly colloquialisms masked as insightful psychological advice was averted.

Both Rip's secretary and the woman at the police station gave me major kudos for being a stellar friend and dropping everything to keep Rip's son out of jail. Meh, it's not like it was my money or anything. And I think I may even have spelled Rip's last name wrong when I signed the check.

Shit, the way I saw it, I was saving myself from having to bail Skater out of jail two days later, which I wouldn't have minded doing anyway, but that gorgeous boy would be somebody's Jenny after about thirty seconds.


Rip gives me plenty of opportunities to miss him.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, ergo, I've grown to be quite fond of Rip. The man travels more than anyone I know. I think that in the time that I've known him, he's spent more time away than at home. He also lets me feel useful when he calls and asks for a ride to the airport.

I cherish the quality travel time spent with Rip in the Odyssexy, when he begs me to drive faster and pass the car in front of me and I reply by telling him to shut the fuck up or he's gonna find out if he can run faster than I can drive.


Rip takes me shopping... to buy gifts for other women.

Due to Rip's travel schedule and the demands placed upon him by his Harem of co-dependent women (I'm more of an honorary emeritus member of the harem, but that's really nobody's business), Rip and I don't actually go "Out" very often. We're usually either at his house or my house.

We're more Hang-Out than Go-Out friends, but occasionally we are seen in public together. Once we went to a hockey game when Buffy had tickets she couldn't use (which was an absolute BLAST), and last week he needed to go to the mall to buy a very specific Valentine's Day gift for one of his women.

An $18.50 box of eight Godiva truffles.

There was a bit of a line at Godiva, and when we got to the cashier, I saw a sign detailing Godiva's Return Policy. I thought it was kinda funny that Godiva even had a return policy. Who's gonna return chocolate? And you'd think that most people would have received it as a gift, so it's not like they'd have a receipt. Anyway, they'll give you different chocolate if you're not fully satisfied, or something.

The cashier was a kinda preppy Goth looking high school chick. I simply HAD to find out if they had issues with people returning chocolate.

So, what, can people return an entire box of candy with one bite taken out of each truffle and ask for a replacement?? Seriously? Where does it end?

Rip jokingly told the cashier that he can never take me anywhere. She laughed.

You can't take me anywhere? You NEVER take me anywhere! In fact, we're here right now shopping for another girl, thankyouverymuch!

The cashier looked at both of us like she was trying to figure out just exactly what Rip's and my relationship IS (heh, good luck). Then I told her that I really shouldn't be complaining since my husband was at home with my kids. And we all busted up laughing.


Rip always has beer.

And if he doesn't, he'll take me out in his Big Ass Truck to get beer. And he doesn't make me feel like an Alkie for drinking a beer before noon.


Rip doesn't take it easy on me when we play darts.

Even when he makes it interesting by spotting me several points, he'll still shut me down and remind me what a sucktastic dart player I am. But he lets me drink enough beer that I really don't even fuckin care.


Rip always expresses sweet, humble gratitude for the things I do for him.

Whether it's Pot Roast and Porn Delivery or picking up creamer at the grocery store, I never, ever feel unappreciated. Not for a single minute since I've known him. And I know he'd do anything for me, any hour of the day or night, as I would for him.


Rip has a unique gift for saying the most thoughtful, encouraging things at the perfect times.

I was telling him a story about a recent Facebook reunion that almost didn't happen because I was afraid this guy wasn't going to remember who I was, and Rip said,

"You thought he wouldn't remember you??? Sarah, you are the single most unforgettable person I've ever met."

Gotta say, I choked up a bit.


Rip lets me grope his son.

That's my reward for shuttling Skater around. Totally worth it.


Rip lets me give him shit on my blog.

Seriously, though - Rip is one of a very few people in my entire life (other than my husband) who has made me feel that I'm getting back from a relationship as much as I put in, and more. Rip is an absolute gem.

So glad I met ya, G9. :)

Today I kinda knew what I would be blogging about. But not really.

It's a bunch of randomness, kinda, but here ya go.

Yesterday I got my swag from the Peoples Front of Judea (aka The Ben Folds Fan Club). Check it out! I'm particularly amused by the Bitches Ain't Shit bumper sticker, but R won't let me put it on the Odyssexy.

It also came with an autographed copy of Stems and Seeds, which contains the fake versions of the songs they "accidentally" leaked when their latest CD came out. They played several of the fake songs at the concert and some of them were better than the songs they actually released on Way To Normal, so it was cool that they put them together on a CD. I LOVE it. Ben is a sexy man.



Moving on, yesterday I was cleaning the kitchen and I found Tito's pile of Valentines received from his classmates. This one was on the top of the pile.



Then I remembered there's a boy in his class named SEAN. If you look closely, you can tell that the X is really an A, tilted slightly to the right, and the N is hard to see over the red.



It's on my bulletin board right next to the Lubaba invitation. I save stuff. I form sentimental attachments to objects.
I'm sure there are psychological implications.


To continue, Speed Racer commented yesterday how much fun it is to hear the phone ring, answer (in his absolutely charming Kentucky accent), "Well, hello, beautiful..." and then hear an unfiltered rant about my Drama O' The Day. It's probably a good idea, when you see that PK is calling you, to answer, say a quick Hello and immediately pull the phone away from your face.

I think another fun thing about being in the PK Inner Posse is when I call you up and ask you an absolutely ridiculous question.

Here's what I imagine this actual conversation was like from Speed Racer's perspective:

(Insert my signature Lenny Kravitz - LADY ringtone)

Him: Well, hello, beautiful!

Me: Is my glass dildo at your house?

Him: Uh, no...

Me: Ya sure? Cuz I can't find it.

Him: Is it an emergency? What do you need it for?

Me: I want to club a baby seal to death with it. What the fuck do you think I need it for?

Him: Well, where was the last place you had it?

Me: At the 7-11 at Manchester and Ballas. In my COOTER, duh!

Him: Why would it be at my house??

Me: You said you wanted to get one for your wife, and I have one, so it occurred to me to lend it to you to see if she liked it, but I guess I thought better of it and kept that idea to myself.

Him: No, you mentioned that you had one, but you didn't say anything about letting us borrow it. And, as a side note... Ewwwwww!!

Me: Oh, come on, we're all friends here. And it's glass; you can wash it. And if you run it under warm water... dude...

Him: Well, in answer to your question, NO, it's not here.

Me: Shit. Then I don't know where it is.


(Update: I found it in the aptly named "Fun Drawer." I'll post a pic for you so you can get a sense of how easy it is for something to get lost in there.)


You can also get in on the PK Picture Text "Inner Posse" (which isn't the punch line to "Where's PK's Glass Dildo", and I know you were thinkin' it). Gentle Evil Baritone, Trillian and KK (to name a few) trust me with their digits so they get funny pictures and strange questions from me every once in a while. I think yesterday's question was, "Do other people want to punch Vickie Howell in the face, or is it just me?"

For the Muggles, Vickie Howell is the host of Knitty Gritty, and she has her own line of yarn.



Which she uses to make HORRIBLE things.



I'm sure she's a nice person, but seriously... there's no excuse for Fun Fur Fringed Cuffs. How would you eat soup?


In slightly less disturbing news, after my Panic Attack, I've been thinking about switching my meds from Wellbutrin to something designed to treat Anxiety rather than Depression. I truly think my greater struggle is with Anxiety. I take the occasional Xanax, and I don't want to start taking them every day because I save them for the REALLY shitty days when I just want to go to sleep and have it be tomorrow.

So this morning I saw this story. CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO.

STAMFORD, Conn. (AP) — The frantic owner of a 200-pound chimpanzee that went berserk in Connecticut pleaded with police over the phone to help her stop the animal from mauling her friend, begging them to "Hurry, please! He ripped her face off."

Police in Stamford released 911 tapes of Sandra Herold's desperate call to police Monday as her 15-year-old chimp, Travis, was attacking 55-year-old Charla Nash.

The chimp can be heard grunting at times on the tape, as Herold cries, "He's killing my friend!"

The dispatcher says, "Who's killing your friend?"

Herold replies, "My chimpanzee! He ripped her apart! Shoot him, shoot him!"

After police arrive, one officer radios back: "There's a man down. He doesn't look good," he says, referring to the disfigured Nash. "We've got to get this guy out of here. He's got no face."

The chimp attacked Nash as Herold, 70, frantically stabbed her beloved pet with a butcher knife and pounded him with a shovel.

"He looked at me like, 'Mom, what did you do?'" Herold told NBC's "Today Show" in an interview aired Wednesday. "It was horrific what happened and I had to do what I had to do, but still, I'll miss him for the rest of my life."

Nash remained was in critical condition early Wednesday with major injuries to her face and hands.

Police said they are looking into the possibility of criminal charges. A pet owner can be held criminally responsible if he or she knew or should have known that an animal was a danger to others.


(NOTE FROM PK: Here's the freaky part.)


Police said that the chimp was agitated earlier Monday and that Herold had given him the anti-anxiety drug Xanax in some tea. Police said the drug had not been prescribed for the 14-year-old chimp.

Investigators said they were also told that Travis had Lyme disease, a tick-borne illness with flu-like symptoms that can lead to arthritis and meningitis in humans.

"Maybe from the medications he was out of sorts," Stamford police Capt. Richard Conklin said.

Nash had gone to Herold's home in Stamford on Monday to help her coax the chimp back into the house after he got out, police said. After the animal lunged at Nash when she got out of her car, Herold ran inside to call 911 and returned with a knife.

After the initial attack, Travis ran away and started roaming Herold's property until police arrived, setting up security so medics could reach the critically injured woman, Conklin said.

But the chimpanzee returned and went after several of the officers, who retreated into their cars, Conklin said. An officer shot Travis several times after the animal opened the door to his cruiser and started to get in.

The wounded chimpanzee fled into the house and retreated to his living quarters, where he died.

When he was younger, Travis starred in TV commercials for Old Navy and Coca-Cola, made an appearance on the "Maury Povich Show" and took part in a television pilot, according to a 2003 story in The Advocate newspaper of Stamford.

Did you catch that??

The monkey who was ripping a woman's face off had been given XANAX.

HOLY SHIT.

I think I'll try cutting back on caffeine instead.