Sunday, May 08, 2016

Why I Can't Ever Attend the Kentucky Derby

I watch the Triple Crown every year...from the no-hat-required, jeans-friendly couch in my house. My family texts off and on all day before the Kentucky Derby: after all, for those of us in Minnesota the Derby is the last sign that winter is truly over, because horse racing season has begun. It's similar to Winter/Construction being the two seasons up here, except Race season is far less annoying traffic-wise.

Anyway, we make fun of the horrendous outfits (OH MY GOD Rutledge, really? How far the mighty Top Gear host hath fallen), the hats that could apply for their own zip code and MUST require a gallon of mint juleps just to step out the door (assuming a head that huge could get through a doorway), and the host (who apparently stole life-size My Little Pony hair to create that cotton candy pink thing on his head).

I know it sounds mean, but if you're going to go to a multi-million dollar event wearing a hat that literally looks like you stole it from Strawberry Shortcake and be on camera, I have no sympathy.

This year, we discovered it's possible I need a new prescription for my glasses.
ACTUAL horse's name: DESTIN.
What I saw: DESITIN (for those of you without spawn or diaper-changing duties EVER in your life, Desitin is a baby butt cream).

I'm not kidding, the following texts flew from LA to Duluth, MN, to Minneapolis yesterday:

Me: That horse Destin? I keep seeing "Desitin instead and I think his name is BUTT CREAM.
Mom: Run your butt off!!
Aunt: What # was Butt Cream??


Aunt: Poor Butt Cream came up from the rear...butt lost.*
Aunt: Butt Creme will get it in the end.

And that's why I can't ever go the Kentucky Derby in real life. 

*For the record, Destin kicked himself into serious high gear on the final stretch and came from the back of the pack to 6th.
Go Butt Cream!

Dear porn surfers: I bet THIS wasn't what you were looking for when you googled "butt cream" and, again, NO SYMPATHY. Mwahahahaha.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Vacation Conversations That Probably Shouldn't Be Repeated

I took an extra day off this weekend to be all social-like and prove I'm not a zombie hermit. My most excellent family member (who hates being called an aunt because we're more like sisters, and so I'm accommodating her whining request by calling her "family member") came down to drink and be stupid go to the MN Horse Expo yesterday.

FYI, I can't look at the expo link without seeing "hor-seex-po" (obviously there's a Latin-based language's accent attached - feel free to take your pick there), which is really indicative of my own mental failings and should probably be ignored.

Anyway, Thursday night presented Animal Planet on TV and smartasses on the couch. And thus, the following.

  • What the FUCK is with man-buns anyway? WHY? For the record, I completely agree. 
    • Later compared ManBuns to EntitledYogaHipsterMomBuns (those would be the Teletubby-esque top-of-the-head "messy" buns) sported expertly by a woman at the expo, who daintily pushed her fashionable stroller through a pile of horseshit while wearing a VERY disconcerted look. 
  • SHITSTICKS! poop-on-a-stick, twatwaffle, and various versions of "whoore" also made appearances over the weekend.
  • That's not a River Monster. That's a teeny crocodile, you puss. As it turns out, she's not a fan of Jeremy Wade or River Monsters. 
  • OMG that guy just finger-fucked a crocodile! And thus Jeremy Wade's humiliation is complete. 
  • When Chewy humps the air he's getting more than I do... I really see no need to reveal which of us made that comment. 
  • If only for a pair of scissors with really long...scissorparts. For the manbuns, of course. After a couple of Guinnei (I still maintain that should be the plural of Guinness), the individual parts of scissors escaped us both. 

And then, there was Pat Benatar and Neil Giraldo. I LOVE her, and I am not sorry. Pat Benatar was the go-to lip-sync game when I was a kid: my babysitting aunts and I used to sing along with a tape deck and an upright vacuum (because who needs a karaoke machine when you have a vacuum handle?).

And Pat Benatar didn't know she was still in Minnesota...I'm certain she thought they'd crossed the border into Canada. Close enough, really.

I have no smartass commentary about Pat, except I was really amused at how pissed off the sour old woman next to me really was (NOT any aunt or sister at the concert with me. I should go on record saying that...I was on the end and had the stranger danger). I'm not sure I can really blame her: the drunk jackass in front of her was one of six people who stood the entire concert...directly in front of us. And I'm 90% sure he kept farting in her general direction.

Pat and Neil did a bit of When Doves Cry to honor Prince. And all my favorites. My ears are still ringing with the pure awesome.

And there were many idiots with Teletubby topknots in the crowd.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Cheaper Than A New Body Part?

A year ago my husband and I separated. Contrary to everyone's expectations, we've managed to do so not only amicably, but actually remain close friends interested in each other's welfare and happiness as we've each ridden the emotional (and practical) waves that come with the end of a marriage.

We still hang out often on weekends so he can spend time with all of us (and to give me a break from the dogs, who regularly look for him in the house). Most of his stuff is still stored in my house/garage, since he's living with a buddy on the other side of town and doesn't have room yet to take more than essentials. His fun car and tools are here. I was thrilled for him when he started dating someone, and listened as a friend when they eventually broke up.

This is possible, this friendly divorce idea in which both parties remember that it's not about stuff, or money, or what hurts have been caused, but about the well being of a person you loved enough to marry. So the marriage itself didn't work - so what? We were friends before we were spouses: there's no good reason to let the friendship go, too. I know it's weird: I've talked about it a little on this blog. We're both warned all the time by well-meaning people that it's not going to work, and one of us will screw the other over. I don't know how he handles it, but I generally say something noncommittal like "thanks but you don't know us", and change the subject before I get irritated.

Over the last six months I've gone to consultations with three different lawyers about doing the legal papers for divorce. This is not a surprise to my ex: we have already talked about everything we own jointly and how we'll handle splitting things up. In fact, that's all been settled for nearly a year, and he reminded me after 1/1 that we should get the filing done so it's not hanging out there like poor forgotten Johnny Tyler in Tombstone.

Unsurprisingly, lawyers are also unprepared for our amicable split. Actual conversation with the first one I tried (after telling him very clearly we ONLY need someone to check the paperwork and do the court filings in the county):
  • Have you considered x,y,z items?
    • Legit question, and yup we had considered all of them.
  • Are you SURE you want to let him have a,b,c items?
    • Um, yes, I already said so.
  • You know, you could get everything--
    • I stopped him cold right there - I don't WANT everything: I want a split we consider fair between us (you know, the two people who actually own the stuff in question), which we've ALREADY DETERMINED.
  • Why are you taking x,y,z debts?
  • Well, dear (large sigh with obvious "poor you, dumbass" body language), you could do better here for yourself by fighting for x,y,z.
    • At this point, I've already decided you'll not be my lawyer, since you're not listening and the items in question are REALLY not worth any further argument. We don't own huge amounts of stock/planes/mansions/etc. We don't have kids to fight over. We have a house, a couple cars, and some minor stuff to split up. It's DONE.
  • I suppose if you're really going to do it this way and not fight for his truck as well, filing the paperwork all together would be $X.
    • Ok, that's not so bad.  
  • I require a $X,XXX retainer, paid in full before I do anything. Here's a worksheet and the agreement, you have 30 days to decide to retain me or not.
    • Um, why is the retainer 4 times your anticipated cost of filing paperwork?
  • Oh the retainer is standard regardless of the work. I return any unused funds 30 days after everything is final.
    • Ah, so you take as much of my money as possible and make interest off of it, hoping to talk me into fighting and delaying this process so you make MORE, then hold my refunded balance hostage for another month?
Sadly, other than the condescending attitude (for the record, the other two people I spoke with neither condescended nor argued about our decisions) the super-high retainer seems common so far. Sigh.

And let me be clear: I think lawyers are absolutely entitled to make money at their jobs. Good money. I have no problem with that. I don't even have a problem with providing a retainer - I'm sure it's easier than invoicing every time fees are required.

But, potential lawyer, if you specifically tell me the paperwork itself and expected filing fees plus your hourly rate to be a total of thousand dollars, asking me for five thousand (of which you get to make extra money for however long the process takes plus your standard return-funds check process) is really just taking additional interest income from MY bank account. Which makes me wonder if you'll come up with reasons to delay, and thus we'd be starting our relationship on a distrustful foot.

Nope. I get that you're not going to make a bazillion off my divorce, and I'm not sorry for it, but come on. There has to be a better way.