Steeler Turned Unwilling Patriot

Let's all lift our beers, or whatever the hell we're drinking this New Year, and toast to my diehard Steeler fan friend Diane, who upon making an audacious bet with the almost-always-betworthy Robincita, made good on her wager and humiliated herself in public.

Let me explain the bet: it was on the Steelers/Pats game where Diane confidently predicted victory over our undefeated, if not brazenly pompous, men of New England. If the Steelers were to lose (as we all know they did), Diane was to don a NE Pats jersey and declare in front of the neighborhood bar crowd "The Steelers are not a better team than the Patriots." Vice versa if the Pats were to lose (which was highly unlikely, but never say never, eh?).

Here are some pics of Diane at the local pub. It wasn't as satisfying because I think there were three people in the place and that includes the cook and the bartender. We've got to take our hats of to Di for being clever with her "mask"..... it deserves recognition. I do love cleverness, you know.

However, I love victory more. P.S....beware of involving Scott, Nick and Di into a conversation about steroids and baseball. Especially when drinking. I still stand by my opinion, however, guys....

Off to Unknown Parts

Hi All!

We're off tomorrow on our newest adventure! Scott's first time in South America and my reunion with Liv and her family in Bolivia! We leave early tomorrow morning but we have several layovers so we won't arrive until about 6 am (Bolivia time, which is 1 hour later than East Coast time) on the 28th. I will email everyone with news of our safe arrival as soon as I can....we will have to use internet cafes, which is probably more likely within our first few days there in La Paz.

I'll take lots of photos and post them once we get home. Please pray that we have a drama-free flight, if there is such thing as one. We're due back on the 4th, mid-morning California time. We'll email again once we've arrived safely.

Much love! Can't wait to share our experience!
Robin & Scott

Newest Entry of the Shopping Diaries....

Lightning would not strike a second time. This trip was bound to be horrible but I'd somehow convinced myself that if I survived Walmart, it could only get better. I think I'm going to vomit.

I enacted preemptive strike. I found a parking spot central to all the stores I needed to hit and just decided that walking five minutes in each direction was not as bad as circling a lot for thirty minutes. I hit Macy's, returning a throw that we'd bought (it was stained with dirt), and exchanged it for a bath sheet that Scott really wanted. Yes, a bath sheet. Not towel. No. A soft, ridiculously large, encompassing bath SHEET. I won't divulge how much more I owed in the transfer because Macy's doesn't have anything in their stock that I would consider economical. I bought it because my baby really wanted it, I couldn't find anything else to exchange it for and I'm just calling it a Christmas present.

I moved on, hitting the Target, which wasn't as bad. I only sidestepped a few dozen people and maybe bumped into two (none of them pregnant or small children). The line was short, and even though I completely forgot to grab gift boxes, I was unaffected in the end. Scott and I always find interesting ways to wrap our presents. I would live with the oversight.

Still leaving my car be, I left the safe zone for the bookstore. There was one last gift I needed to grab and was BEYOND excited to find that after waiting for the lights to switch (and standing next to the drunken idiots from the Mexican place as we all waited to cross who bellowed loudly and laughed about things that were entirely not funny), I finally found the one gift that I had been searching for. I snatched it, happy with my booty, and went to the front of the store where I distractedly noticed a book I'd been waiting for and didn't know had been released yet. Oh joy, right?

Until I went to get into the line. I kid you NOT: at least 75 people in line. It wrapped down the long aisle, past Psychology, past Self-Help, past "How to Hack into Computers", past Travel, past Witchery, past Non-Fiction, past Humor (the section which I spent the most of my time because the line slowed to a snail's pace), past the calendar display, past the weird, long, oddly-placed Harry Potter display that split the aisle and all the way back into Young Adult and finally into the Children's section.

I looked at my goodies. Was it worth it? I decided that I didn't want to come back, that I wouldn't come back, so this was it. I stood in the stupid line. As if sent from the heavens, the older couple in front of me started chatting with me, probably realizing instantly that I was extremely annoyed with Christmas crowds. They must've felt I was kin. Anyway, their conversation got me through the line without cussing, without sighing, without telling someone to fuck themselves. It was brilliant! I learned a valuable lesson! When possible, make friends with people in line! The time slips by so much faster!

Our conversation was based on how reading has become obsolete (which was kind of silly considering the size of the line) and how everyone should, in the wise words of Seth Marko and the anonymous person that penned the bumper sticker that is proudly displayed on someone's truck at work just READ A FUCKING BOOK.

Sigh. I loved this couple. They tag-teamed....one stayed in the line, the other ran off and continued shopping. Whoever was in the line kept me company, telling me about their grandchildren and I told them about my nieces and nephews. It actually helped me ignore the ass behind me that was talking on his cell phone rampantly.

I raise my glass and toast: Christmas shopping is almost over. To the older folk who have not only more life-knowledge than me, but far more unfailing patience. Thank you for making my hell a little bit more bearable.

Survival

YAY! I've got 90% of my Christmas shopping done (for my hubby anyway). After venturing over to what I refer to as my "secret" Target (aptly named because it's tucked behind a building and it is not a well-known location) and successfully purchasing gifts without A.) growling at some inept person that's either holding up the line or standing in the middle of the aisle like an idiot or B.) shoving my cart into someone that is clearly in my way and can't fathom why I'm angry or C.) cussing out the standardized shopper that does not know the basics of mall decorum. So I made it out of Target in one piece without losing my temper or my sanity.

This concept encouraged me to do the unthinkable: go to Walmart. I decided that I would park far away, creep into the store and gauge what was sure to be a white-trash America bonanza. It was busy but not overcrowded. My initial report to myself: if I moved quick enough, I might be able to escape unscathed.

I grabbed a basket and booked it through the store, picking up the things I needed, dodging the confused batches of ignoramus rooted in the midst of the aisles like I was moving through a labrynth almost without incident. A man and his family managed to fan across the walkway, all walking at a ridiculous snail pace, bringing to a halt my very effective maneuvering. I sighed heavily and to my surprise, he turned, apologized and moved himself and his family to the side. I was incredulous. I've never had someone in Walmart apologize to me before. What an amazing precedent! Next minute I knew, I was in the line behind only one person. The cashier was a little slow, but aren't they all?

A successful trip indeed. Tonight I have to enter Macy's. I can only pray that the same thing happens but am I deluding myself into believing that a miracle can occur twice? We shall see....stay tuned for the newest entry in the Robincita Shopping Diaries.

Death To Them All

So I get the main idea behind Christmas: little Jesus in a manger, gifts from the Magi, no room at the inn ... kindness .... blah, blah, blah. Santa. Gifts. Angelic little childrens sitting by the twinkling tree patiently on Christmas morning, ever grateful for the presents that appeared miraculously overnight, and all because they were good all year long. Yeah. Right.

However, it's easy to forget the warm and fuzzy feelings that are supposed to be invoked during the holiday season when one must brave the malls, or dare I say it, the local Wal-Mart, which is guaranteed to be laden with the rude, the fat, the cheap, the stupid and the spawn of the aforementioned (most likely wearing dirty T-shirts that don't quite fit over the young'uns bulging stomachs, complete with bright red Kool-Aid stains around the screeching mouths). That being said, I braved the mall this past weekend (there is no way I'm stepping a foot in even the Wal-Mart PARKING lot which is always a fun excursion and usually ends with me cussing out someone that doesn't even speak English). It was every bit as bad as I'd anticipated. Over an hour spent searching for a parking spot. Long, ridiculous lines where the person in front of you drags out the cashier's attention, leaving you behind them shifting your weight from foot to foot and wondering how long you can hold the heavy box in your arms and still have enough strength to chuck it at the thoughtless idiot in front of you.

The thing that gets me about what's become of Christmas is that we put up with all of this insipid nonsense designed to make you blow a gasket, all so you can give somebody something that they might not even like. Did you ever get that gift that made no freaking sense? Ooooh, look a Slinkie! And you thought of me? How nice.

Christmas (let's forget Jesus and the manger and the Magi for a moment) was in essence manufactured as a greedy holiday, something to hold over childrens' heads to ensure that they were good little bastards all year. Now, now, Little Johnny if you don't stop giving sweet blonde pig-tailed Suzie a wedgie, Santa is going to give you nothing but a lump of coal this year! Little Johnny probably stuck out his tongue at you when you weren't looking, thus proving to himself that being insolent wouldn't result in that horrible lump of coal as long as the insolence went unnoticed by the parental units.

I digress. I was at the mall, breathing evenly through my nose, sidestepping those annoying people that stop in the middle of a crowded walking lane to glance around as if they were suddenly beamed up in front of Hot Topic, confused about how they'd gotten there. Move to the side, asshole, and let those of us who know how to work the mall properly by. I actually managed to fare pretty well out there in the cutthroat world of Christmas shopping for five hours. Part of this was because I kept promising myself that when I was done, I would reward my good, calm effort by having lunch at California Pizza Kitchen, complete with a glass (or bottle depending on my level of desired implosion) of wine.

It was when another rude, inconsiderate person, walking slower than a freaking snail, along with her litter of children (probably all from different Baby Daddies), all fanned out to completely block the walkway, happened in front of me that I lost it. All decorum gone. I cussed the woman (and I suppose her brats too) out, turning heel and heading for the CPK, abandoning any thought that I should hit Target for any gifts I hadn't yet bought.

Needing wine desperately, I wove quickly in and out of the crazed mob of shoppers, finally coming upon the door of the restaurant to discover that there was a 20 minute wait for a table. Oh hell no. I turned and left abruptly, heading for my car and inching out into the slow-paced road outside the garage, headed toward home where when my sweet husband asked if I needed help, and I demanded in a stressed voice, "Please open a bottle of wine."

Tonight, I again brave the brutal crowds (still not courageous or patient enough to hit Wal-Mart) so please everyone, pray for my sanity. I've already warned Scott that he should have bail money at the ready. I think perhaps this year I'll get everyone a photo of myself in a strait jacket with the caption: Sorry I didn't quite get to the register with the gift that you'd probably never use anyway.

All of a Sudden

Not sure why, but all of a sudden, I can sign into blogspot at work, which as most you know wasn't possible a few weeks ago so I stopped trying. However, they recently updated our computers so I thought I'd give it another go. Lo and behold, I'm in! I feel so gloriously successful!

I don't really have much to post though, so I suppose this will be a boring one. We've been running around like mad, trying to get our house ready for the housewarming soiree we're throwing this weekend. Should be a raucous melee to say the least. Scott even bought a stripper pole for the event, so photos will be posted on Sunday. I'm sure there will be a bunch of drunken idiots who hurt themselves.

I'm excited that I can finally post again from work! YAY! Chat with you all soon!

Coming Soon!

Pics of my friend Diane, a die-hard Steelers fan, wearing my Bruschi jersey while proclaiming in our bar "The Steelers are NOT a better team than the Patriots!"

She's the one that proposed the bet, not me. Stay tuned.

Our House

Finally, folks, some pics of the new house!!!!!! Check it all out!

Apparatus

Warning, warning, WARNING......young kids need to leave the room. Now no one can say I didn't do my familial duty by telling you to NOT view this blog with children under the age of .... oh say... 21 within distance.....



This story needs a bit of background, although not too much because I don't want to gross you all out. The short version is that Scott and I (if you weren't already privy to this information) have a sex swing. Previously, he's had to mount it from a garage beam, which is not very romantical, so the poor apparatus has been unused for quite some time. Now that we are in our new house, with tons of space, my dear sweet husband has decided to buy a STAND for this crazy, perverted, awesome apparatus (and in my honest opinion, every girl should own one, but I digress).


Today, the stand arrived and this MONSTROSITY took up our living room. If only we had a dungeon.....

Anyway, without further ado, here are the pics (Mom, put your hands over Dad's eyes):

Coming Soon To A Blog Near You

I'll be posting photos of my time spent in Bostonia sometime soon. It's been a hectic week and we're still not finished with our old apartment (oh, how we LOVE cleaning!) so I really haven't had much time to sit and download all of the photos.

I had such a great time while I was back home and I miss everyone already. Christy and Cindy, you ladies were the perfect hosts and I'm already having pangs of sadness when I recall our conversations in the living room (me with wine and you two with your Kahlua concoctions). Give Apollo and Jolie kisses for me. My chin misses their tongues.

It was so fun seeing and playing with the kids too. I can't believe how calm Natalie is amongst all of the chaos. Brendan, good luck with your fantasy football league. I'm currently still in first place :)

Thanks to everyone, and thanks for that super delicious Thanksgiving dinner! My mouth is still watering over those yummy mashed potatoes!

I Will Miss You

To my gorgeous hubby of two years:

I understand that this is the first time that we will not be together for an extended period since we've been married. I will miss you and know that I've left my heart with you, so please take good care of it.

I love you.

Two Years of Married Bliss....

So despite all of the crazy chaos surrounding us for the past few weeks, Scott and I managed to steal away for the weekend and headed toward our old haunt: La Fonda, Mexico. We had a great, relaxing experience, as usual and here are some pictures to prove it!

On the way to La Fonda, passing through Rosarito, there is a giant statue of Jesus on the hilltop so of course, I had to snap a photo because .... Jesus loves Mexico. Here's the statue:

Lucha Libre Scott....with a gift for one of the kids....he's been dying to buy a LL mask but I've always vetoed it. I decided to let him get the Spidey mask...nothing says kinky like Spiderman!

Robincita at dinner!















The Happy Two-Year Newlyweds!















The hippo in La Mision, the hotel we stay at in La Fonda.....Scott has been plotting to steal this hippo since last year. You have to admit, it would add a certain uniqueness to someone's house.

The Mexican countryside....from our breakfast nook on Sunday morning.

On the Move

Hey Everyone!

Sorry it's been awhile since my last post, we've been embroiled in our move. We're currently still in the old house but more than half of our loot is already at the new place so it's a bit surreal. We should be all moved in by the end of the week, and then I'll be able to take photos and post them up for you all.

JD is a little anxious, because he has those doggie abandonment issues. He keeps looking around and getting all sad and quiet. He's a little clingy as of late too, following us wherever we go.

We may be without a computer for a week or so. We realized that we don't have cable access in the bedrooms so we have to install it, and our internet connection is through our cable company.

Hope everyone is well and I'll post again once we're settled in and our internet access is up and running!

A Good, Good Day

So today, despite my exhaustion from the amazing weekend, I trudged my way into work in the attempts to show the exuberance that should've been glowing from my skin. Unfortunately on Saturday night, I had the stupidity to mix my regular wine with shots at a Halloween party we attended. I lost all conscious thought when I took a jager shot and almost puked everywhere. Then I woke up. Sunday was bittersweet. Thankfully, no GOOD NFL games were on because I was too busy recuperating so I would be ready for the Sox/Rox finale.

I decked myself out in my Sox gear and headed to Nick and Di's for the Red Sox official claim as the 2007 WORLD CHAMPS! Whooooooop! I would post pics but our computer has been under repair for two freaking days and I'm not sure of its capabilities.

However, this morning, I walked into work and hugged my fellow Sox fans. No words needed to be spoken. Yet when someone asked me how I was today, I just smiled tiredly and uttered, "It's a good, good day."

How can I not be elated? How can I not be smiling to myself? Not only did the Sox rip the Rox to shreds but in the same freaking day that they took the championship, the Pats kicked the living shit out of the 'Skins (who by the way, talked some nasty trash last week and are now forced to eat their own stink) AND then we hear that A-Rod opted out of his contract. Can we all hear the sweet sound of the Evil Empire crumbling around Steinbrenner, his check book and his sadistic spawn? Yep. Sounds really fucking good, doesn't it?

Rodriguez's filthy cheating ass better not be thinking of our team. Lowell, our MVP, is not only more than enough but he's a bit more ... ahem ... moral for my tastes. Who the fuck cares how many HR's he hits per year? I'd rather have a good group of guys band together and play honestly and then take the whole she-bang. Exactly like it happened this year.

Let's Do This!

My prediction: Sox take it in 6.

JD's predicting a Sox sweep.

We're safe

Hi All,

I know that Scott posted our safety (and his selflessness) on his blog but I wanted to post some pics from around our house to show you that we are currently in no danger.

This is our street, facing east:

Our street facing west:

Marlborough Avenue, facing north. If you look in the distance you can see the haziness of smoke in this one, but notice that it is a bit away from us.

World Series Bound

Before I begin my World Series post (this will NOT be an angry diatribe), I wanted to first let everyone know that despite the many brush fires in the SoCal area, Scott and I are currently not near them. However, because of the high winds, we are getting a bit of smoke blown through the neighborhood, but currenly nothing to be of concern.

I also wanted to congratulate Brian and Brendan for being at a very exciting game last night! I bet you guys had a blast!

That being said, I'm breaking down my thoughts last night as the game was on. All posted times are Pacific time. Beware, this post will be long!

5:07 pm
The butterflies have been in my stomach all day but they've suddenly fluttered into my throat and I'm choking on them. The mere mention of Westbrook's name in the pregame almost makes me vomit in my mouth. Almost.

5:23 pm
Kevin Millar rocks! I think I'm in love.

5:24 pm
Game starts and I'm overwhelmed with hatred for Grady Sizemore even though he only pops out with a broken bat blooper.

5:42 pm
1-0 Sox. 1st inning. Me in heaven.

5:51 pm
Does anyone else think that Dice-K's moustache and beard looks like it's been glued on? Mike Lowell just nailed a line drive, then stole Lugo's ball AND snagged a routine grounder for the third out. He's such a fucking stud. Did anyone know that Lowell speaks Japanese? STUD.

6:00 pm
I love Jacoby Ellsbury too. I don't care if he looks like a 12-year-old boy. I can be his Sugar Momma.

6:18 pm
Sizemore strikes out after Blake's basehit and stolen base. Again, over the moon.

6:36 pm
Random 4th inning thought: does anyone actually think Casey Blake has the "best beard in baseball"? Whatever. Dice-K just made a great play at first - ball trounced off the top of his glove - he stays with it and still gets Martinez at first. Another random thought - the ump, when announcing a strike, actually sounds like he speaks Japanese. Coincidence? I think not.

6:43 pm
The ball left Garko's bat and I thought it was out of here. Thank whoever for the Green Monstah.

7:11 pm
Sizemore hit a sac fly. 3-2 Boston. The fucking butterflies are choking me again.

7:36 pm
One run game and Okajima just shut down the Tribe. At first I was really apprehensive but the camera just panned to Beckett warming in the bullpen and a warm oozie feeling overtook me. Current mood: anxiously calm.

7:49 pm
Lugo calls for Manny's ball and misses it. I again feel the vomit rise in my throat, overtaking the stupid butterflies. Even that simple fly ball was something Manny could've handled.

8:02 pm
Pedroia jacks a 2-run homer over the Monstah and I think I cheered so loud I woke my deaf neighbor up. Over the fucking moon. 5-2 Boston.

8:16 pm
Jonny Papelbon's stare - the one with the eyes glaring from beneath the brim of his hat - is debilitatingly hot!

8:27 pm
Lowell doubles. STUD. Drew singles and I'm beside myself. Holy shit, where did he come from? Worthy of 15 mil? Not yet, but I'll take it.

8:46 pm
Youk and Scott bear an unsettling resemblance. Youk just homered and yes, the hubby got some lovins last night.

8:54 pm
Ellsbury has floated to left, Crispie in center. Leadoff hit to left but the next hitter lines a drop ball into left to Jacoby who dives and shows us why he's here. Crispie tracks one down in center....AND WE'RE WORLD SERIES BOUND!!!!!!! Final score 11-2. Whoooooooooooooooooo! Whooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!! And Brendan, we really were looking for you in the crowd!!!!

I took pics of last night as well. I'll post those at some point in time today!!!!

Night of Answered Prayers

Alas, some of the miracles I was requesting from the Sox came true last night. JD Drew stepped up and actually earned some of his paycheck. Francona kept Crispie warming the bench and Ellsbury had a nice ribbie. Yet the big story of the night, with the giant exception of Drew's first inning grand slam, was Schilling. Not to mention Gag-Me, who actually managed a 3-out inning. Unbelievable. Unfortunately, that still doesn't make me like him.

Game 7 and I'm focused not to mention highly anxious. I don't have any fingernails left to chew and I've already munched my cuticles off. Can our boys pull it off? Only time, and solid playing, will tell.

Breakdown of Time

Inspired by espn.com's Sports Guy, I thought I'd breakdown my time. So here goes!

Thursday, Oct 18

5:31 pm PST
Youkilis homers. I'm over the moon and bomb over to my fellow Sox fan's cube, while wearing my shitkicker boots (which by the way make a fabulous stomping noise while running with purpose) only to find that said fan has already left for the bar. Boo on him, YAY on Youk!

1-0 Sox.

5:41 pm PST
Grady Sizemore scores and it pisses me off. Tie game.

5:46 pm-6:10 pm
Driving home and I'm pissed because I cannot get the game on radio. I keep trying as if one of the stations will miraculously pick up the game. Once it finally dawns on me that I'm out of luck, I play one of Evanescence's more hard-core songs and rock out while driving to the local Von's for some vino.

6:15-6:30 pm
I rush home, change quickly for kickball and pour some wine in a plastic bottle. My heart is at home though. I want to be watching this freaking game, despite my confidence in Becks, and it shows. I sucked at kickball tonight and I had no qualms with pulling a Manny and asking "Who really gives a fuck?" Sad but true.

6:45-7:30 pm
Kickball. The ump is a Yankee fan but with the loss of Torre, he and I are oddly bonding. Weird.

7:35 pm
Scott's friend Ed suggests that the game is over when I say I want to go home to watch the end. I scoff and wisely declare that the game has at least another hour. I am very, very wise. We arrive home at 7:50pm, I walk the dogs and the game isn't over until after 9 PST. I call Ed and rub it in.

8:32 pm
Still up on the Indians but the cameraman flashes to Gagne sitting in the pen and I have an epileptic seizure.

9 something PM
I dance around like a little kid. And then I ask myself if I should take my anxiety pills now, or just wait until Game 6...two more days.....Schill.......

10:45 pm
And 10 glasses of wine later. Still not calm. Still not confident, but I do like that this is going to Fenway. Currently focused on Game 6. One game at a time. If only Beckett was Superman. If only Manny would run when he should. If only JD Drew actually earned his 15 million per year. If only Coco Crisp had something unique, with the exception of his name.....if only Francona would play the very-hungry Ellsbury.....and if he doesn't, perhaps Epstein will consider Torre for our future.

The Uphill Climb

We pretty much had a feeling that Becks wouldn't fail us. Thus why I was so adamant that he should've played on 3 days rest. Solid performance by Becks...but we won't mention Manny's aloofness. I just can't handle it right now. One game at a time.

So now my hopes are on Schill. Let's see if the Sox blood that stained his sock in 2004 also stains his soul.

Old Faithful

Before I enter into one of my diatribes, and trust me, that's where this post is headed, I first wanted to wish my little sis a very happy birthday. So Critty, on this 17th day of October 2007, I hope that everyone caters to your wishes and of course, I hope that you have mind-blowing sex later. Happy birthday!

Now that the pleasantries are over, let's discuss what I'm now referring to as Black Tuesday. Black, black Tuesday. And Black Monday. And Black Saturday. I think I'm swimming in an abyss of blackness. I really, really want to dig down deep into the ever-widening pit in my stomach and pull out some faith. Yet what I want and what I can do are two different things.

In the same spirit of my earlier post that resulted in a comment war, have we fallen back into the Sox of old, the Sox who always failed us when we needed it most, the Sox that would find ways to blow a 10 run lead in the ninth, those same Sox who evaded the glory of being World Champs for 86 years? Why would you play Wakefield when your ace pitch has a history of pitching well off of a few days rest? Why wouldn't you want your ace to pitch 3 out of the 7 games? I understand that you'd want to use him against the Rockies but the here's the schtick: YOU HAVE TO GET TO THE SERIES FIRST. I don't care if his back hurts. I don't care if he has a few blisters. I don't care if he has an ass cramp.

Let's talk about another issue I'm having: the disappearance of our bats. It appears that the only people capable of putting up some runs are the usual bash boys, Ortiz and Ramirez. Yes, last night (BLACK BLACK NIGHT) Youkilis contributed and prior to that on BLACK MONDAY Varitek knocked one out, but where is the offense from Pedroia, Crisp and Drew? Why, oh why, would anyone think it's a good idea to put Ellsbury on the bench when Crisp and Drew's bats have been deafeningly quiet?

I've spent a majority of the day focusing on the fact that Beckett is on the mound tomorrow and thus, hoping....no praying...that Thursday will not be painted black as well. I'm focusing on returning to Fenway. I'm focusing on Schill pulling out his renown competitive nature and shutting down the Tribe on his turf. I'm focusing on Francona making a few good decisions: sitting Dice-K, playing Ellsbury and using Beckett in Game 7 to take us to the Promised Land.

I cannot find it in me yet to think about a series with the Rockies. I cannot allow myself to even hope that we somehow pull off a miracle. Twice.

Cousin It

BUGGY

So we're headed to Cleveland with a clean slate. Poor Josh Beckett...such a solid performance, only to be let down AGAIN by the less-than-stellar performance of Gagne in G2. WTF?

OK, be warned a stinking nasty Robincita tirade is lingering in the air. On Friday night - the very night where Beckett dominated to the extent of pure bliss - Gagne came out of the bullpen and despite our considerable lead, I groaned. The others, all Sox fans, at our table tried to come to his defense claiming his talent as a pitch and saying that he's having an off year. That's OK with me. Sometimes that happens. But why, OH FUCKING WHY, does Francona feel the need to hand this boy the ball? We managed to pull it off for G1, but why did they pull him in again for G2? WHY? WHYYYYYYYY?????

Gagne has not proven himself. Gagne is not showing himself a worthy pitch. Why the fuck would you put him in when we're in a tie situation? A 6-6 game and you think it's wise to hand the ball to someone that has only proved he knows how to blow a game? WHYYYYYYY????????? I'm bothered. Very, very bothered.

Let's talk bugs. I'm actually hoping that the evil Cleveland gnats make an appearance. I think we're a bit stronger than our Yankee adversaries and I think it would be a bit fun to win despite the pestilence. Bring on the plague! Locusts for breakfast, anyone?

GO SOX!

Copycat

Sorry, guys, my friend Seth posted this first but it was so brilliant that I need to repost on mine. For the original, sign onto sethmarko.blogspot.com.

Headline was:

God Hates The Yankees

Looking Forward

When I realize that I'm going to travel somewhere, I'm one of those stupidly goofy-happy people that cannot wait to go. I shift my weight from foot to foot, I jump up and down shamelessly and I look forward to the adventure. To me, there is nothing like the unknown. I'm really, really pretty freaking good at the unknown.

Tonight, I'm ridiculously happy. There's no point to the happiness other than in the next three months I will be in Boston and then in Bolivia to have more adventures, to add more chapters to my life. To add more direction to the train named ME.

In the spirit of adventure and life, and recognizing that history is not only going to repeat itself but also pave the way for the future, I post this pic of me on Poas Volcano in Costa Rica.

Kicking Me Down

For the last week, I've been sick and out of touch. I apologize.


However, I do need to go off on a bitty tangent because work has installed new computers...which is normally quite a GOOD thing, but the software that they installed is all 2007, which means that the regular meticulous way of doing things has been quite irritating. Nothing works correctly, everything is freaking failing us and when we call IT, they usually just say "we're working on it." We're all trying to figure out the basics all over again...and again... and again....it's horrifying and absolutely frustrating. Try to picture using Word or Excel but not with the functions you're used to...OK, I'm done sulking. It still sucks ass.

The whole point of the tangent is that for some reason, my internet connection at work will not let me sign into blogger. This pisses me off to no end because I have SO MUCH FREE TIME AT WORK. Which means all my posts are now restricted to home until I figure out what the fuck is going on. Bygones. Bygones. I'm breathing freely now. OK, I'm lying. Whatever.


Since I've been ill for the past week, and wanting to catch you up to date, I thought I would post some pics from our kickball league. We actually WON our first game this past Thursday where Scott led off the game with an unprecedented (for us anyway) homerun....and I followed with a solid single and some great snags at short. Dad would be so proud!!! Like our Irish green shirts? Yes, that is wine in my "water" bottle. Got to keep it in plastics, y'know.

YAY! More Travel!

Yesterday, Scott and I booked our flight to Bolivia! We get to be there with Livia and her family/friends over New Year's and I can't tell you how ecstatic I am that we made this trip work. It meant so much to me and over the last few months the both of us have jumped hurtles to make it happen. In our final hour, when the plane fares were spiking to almost $2500 per PERSON, we managed to find a flight at half that. Between the both of us struggling against work for the time off, trying to nail down the right dates and then fighting the rising fares, it's been exhausting. Because we lose a day in travel, we only get six days down there but I guarantee they will be action-packed!

Alas, our travel for this year has certainly been abundant but I can't wait for the experience again, and for Scott to get a taste of South America. He's loved Central America so far so I really think he's going to love the food, the people, the simplicity of the culture, the humility ..... I literally woke up this morning and for the first time in awhile, I was hopping to the shower like a little kid.

My Silly, Silly Little Men

Today, Scott's hotel was hosting a picnic event for their employees and apparently, they had a dunk tank in which the GM, Scott's assistant (and friend) Ed, and Scott were the subjects of pent-up angst and fun. I get a phone call asking that I bring his "Say No to Crack" hat which features an ass crack on it, of course, as well as the pink tutu that we use during our softball games when one of our men screws up a play. I knew instantly that because his requests were so .... perversely odd, I must bring my camera as well.

Here is a pic of Scott, mounting the dunk tank in his cap and tutu.

And then, to make matters even funnier, I came home early because Scott needed to clean up after the picnic, and I find JD absolutely devastated that Scott isn't home yet. Here he is sulking in his big beanbag, wishing that it was his Daddy that came home to him instead of me:

Effectiveness

Damn, you crazy MoFo's d' Bostonia! I have NEVER seen a comment chain to follow a post like the one that was born from my "Faraway Angst" blog. If anything, it shows the strength and passion (as well as perversion) that comes with being a Sox fan.

I'm currently immersed in a memory when we were all at Fenway, probably 6 or somewhat years ago, where Stacey, Christy and I were calling dibs on the players (sexually, of course) while I was betting with the six year olds behind me on who was going to hit what. The little brats took me for $20 and they were not very humble about it. I believe we tried to force Mo Vaughn on Stacey...... she wasn't having it though.

Anyway, this post is NOT about the Red Sox. This post is about a very sweet reunion that is about to happen....wait for it......wait for it......waiiiiiiit........

Yes, I bought my ticket today to come spend Thanksgiving in Bostonia! YYYAAAAAYYYYYY! Anyway, I arrive early evening on Sat the 17th of November and I'm there for a full week, leaving early evening on Sat the 24th! Can't wait to see everyone (and in some cases, meet someones...Natalie and Apollo respectfully) and of course, have an amazing holiday!

Back to the Sox. Has Dad gotten rid of that godawful Clemens shirt yet? Or is he saving the honor of burning it for me?

Faraway Angst

Let me preface this blog by saying that I'm really trying not to freak the fuck out.

Upon arriving in San Diego, I realized that I was a weird magnet for all of the vagabond New Englanders that, like me, sought the good weather of San Diego under the comprehension that everyone was of like East Coast nature. Not the point, but so not true...these West Coasters are a new brand of human and I'm not sure I want to subscribe. Bygones. Not my point. My point is that East Coasters are everywhere and I'm certain that they're attempting to take over the world. No arguments here.

However, in my broad expanse of gaining more knowledge and understanding of the people I work with and for, I realized (happily) that a bunch of my media buyers are from ...yes.....wait for it.....the EAST COAST! AND they are Red Sox fans!

This is great! Fucking great! So let's get to the point of my angst!

What the fuck have our hometown boys been doing other than throwing a fucking season that was theirs to claim? Where the fuck are our bats? Better yet, why the fuck does Francona keep putting Gagne in like he's the image of Christ on a hankie that will march to our salvation when all the schmuck does is give it all up in the 8th?

I'm devastated. Fucking devastated. I'm over the whole Red Sox "curse" yet doesn't this seem like the makings of a cursed year? THIS is something that we would've blamed on the Babe, THIS is something that we would've squawked and stomped about, somehow finding a way to blame the Evil Yankee Empire, but you know what? We can only blame ourselves.

Yes, I've got tears in my eyes. Yes, I'm pissed. We had the greatest first half-season and now....now we have to deliver. I'm used to us not pulling through but you know the funny thing about finally winning a Series? I now expect them to pull through. There's nothing left to blame, no one left to cuss out (although it just comes naturally for the Yanks), nowhere else to turn. This team rocked the first part of this season....and if they can't finish it, they don't deserve it.

For the last few months, I've been trying to explain to people the magnetism of watching baseball in Fenway as opposed to other random parks. My fear is that magic I grew up with will be diminished because no one cares anymore. There is no curse. There is nothing but the incompetent playing of a bunch of men that had a great chemistry, a great bond, and somehow they lost it after a few months of tossing a silly ball back and forth.

(NO BRITNEY CRAZIES HERE) Please, I implore of my Sox. Please. Get there. Pull out your guns and take us to places we're still not used to. Take us to the WS. Try. Try hard.

Got Ink? We Do!

Me, being tattooed by James at 1904 in San Diego.

My finished product: the eyes of Horus with an ankh.

Scott, with the outline of his finished.

Hours of intense pain later, Scott's ALMOST finished tattoo.

Football, OH How I've Missed You!!!

OK, so can I just preface this blog with this thought: I thoroughly enjoy wearing my Pats jersey to work. After last year's debacle, where the Pats pulled out a win over the Chargers on their own home turf and then threw Shawn Merriman's pompous "We're going to kick their ass" speech back into his face by doing his signature dance all over Qualcomm stadium, I seriously enjoy the filthy looks and comments I get when everyone in San Diego gets to see where my NFL loyalties lie.

I am, however, a bit disappointed with Belichek and their coaching staff concerning the whole videotaping of the signals bit. Everyone knows that everyone does it, it's just disconcerting to me that we were brazen enough to get caught. Come on, Billy, that kind of shit is supposed to be ultimate covert mission. What's wrong with you? Maybe now that you're half a million dollars in the hole, you'll be a bit less pompous about your cheating tactics.

Anyway, back to the initial purpose of this blog. As we approach the BIG GAME (trust me, if we lose, I'm going to hear allllll about it), I can't help but hope that we seriously bulldoze over the Bolts .... not because it would prove that the cheating tactics have nothing to do with the powerhouse team that the Pats have and that their ability to win is natural and clean.....no, no, nothing like that. I really, really want the chance to brag. I really, really want the chance to saunter around in front of everyone at work with a smarmy smile on my face as they sulk a bit at their computers. It's sad, I know it's sad, that my pride for the Pats is soaring to the unnatural heights of boasting like a child, chest puffed, as if I have anything to do with my team's solid performances. I also really, really do not want to deal with everyone here if the Chargers were to squeak out a win. I don't want to deal with the sea of blue shirts, the LT chants and the cheating comments.

Well, I'm sure I'll hear the cheating comments for years to come. I can take that. But most of these Charger fans are bandwagon jumpers, so I would hate for them to have something to razz me about ... thus, I'm sending out this belated birthday wish from me to Bill, Tom Brady, and the rest of our good old fashioned boys: kick the shit out of San Diego this Sunday, huh?

New Story Posted

www.robincita-writing@blogspot.com for anyone that's interested!

Smoldering

Yeah. You know I am.

Seth's Stupid Face

As you can see, Seth has a bit of an issue when a camera comes close.....he does this "stupid face"....so yeah, I'm posting it. I'm only being this mean because I spent half of my non-drunken night trying to catch him on film NOT doing this face. Fuck you, Seth. Fuck you.

Me and the Ladies

Notice how I didn't identify myself as a lady. From left to right: Jen, me, Sarafina, and Diane.

Here in Spirit

My sisters.....from left to right, top over bottom: Christy, Cindy, Livia. My little brother Tim is the only guy in the shots! We put these pics up because they all wanted to be at our party in spirit and I wanted my SD friends that have never had the luxury of meeting my family to taste a bit of my life.

300

On the morning of our party, I went downstairs and was greeted by hundred of flies. They swarmed our entire downstairs...to a point of: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Scott went to the store and bought a swatter, the only one left in the store.

So we decided to make a game of it. We couldn't locate the source of those ridiculous flies so instead, we put the swatter in the middle of the table and had everyone aware that if they spotted a fly, they had free reign to grab the swatter and murder those motherfuckers.

This pic is of Ed, getting into the murderous mood.

It's Birthday Time!

Seeing where on Monday, Scott is turning the dreaded 40 and, same as the last three years, I remain at 29, we are throwing a football/birthday soiree this Sunday. We felt it important that we usher in the return of the NFL with a bang. Go Pats!!!! I'm currently pissing off everyone at work because I'm wearing my Tom Brady jersey. As I'm sure you can remember, they're still bitter that our boys beat them last year in the playoffs. Nothing like a little salt in the wounds to start off their Friday.

I'll be honest, it's been dreadfully boring as of late. I've been reading a good series of books by Stephenie Meyer: Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse. I finally finished last night and that's always depressing for me. It's like letting a good friend go, knowing that another will replace it later but feeling impatient because you want a good friend NOW. In the meantime, there's that empty feeling. I am currently working on a new short story, trying to get motivated again to just finish my freaking manuscript. So close, but so far. I sometimes wonder if I can't finish it be subconsciously I'm scared to. My friend Allen (some of you may remember him, he was Fran's old boyfriend, Chris Harr's cousin, back in Bostonia) and I have these nice little "short story" challenges going on. My first one is posted on my writing blog, currently working on the second. I'll let you know when that's finished and posted.

We're still looking at houses. We see one this weekend and I have a good feeling about it. We saw one yesterday that I really liked but the bedrooms were so small we wouldn't have been able to even fit our bed in it, so I had to reluctantly give in that it wasn't the right place for us. Man, I wanted that deck! I was envisioning all the parties I could have...

Anyway, I hope I hear from you all soon. I'll take pics of our debauchery this weekend and post them, of course!

Freaking Stupid Heat Wave

Hi All,

Sorry I've been away for a few days, I've literally lost all motivation over the weekend. San Diego is suffering through a debillitating heat wave and although we have an air conditioner, it's wondrous cooling powers do not extend upstairs which is where the computer is housed. Scott and I even spent the night downstairs to ensure that our beautific bodies remained at a somewhat normal temperature.

We had a great Labor Day weekend, other than that. I have a raging tan from going to a beach BBQ yesterday, although I will warn you that when reading a book at the beach, do NOT tuck one of your arms under your head, thus exposing your armpit (and a partial piece of your breast) to the sun. Man, does it freaking burn.

Just an FYI, my father-in-law went under the knife today for one of the first procedures for a new experimental surgery that, if successful, could degrade his Parkinson's progression for up to seven years. Word is that the first part went well and that he's recovering. I believe he goes back for the next procedure in a few weeks. Please keep him in your thoughts for me.

The Bravery of Helen

I'm again on the verge of tears. Partly because the realization of mortality is staggering, and partly because Helen has got to be one of the strongest, most humble women I've ever met.

This morning at work was awkward for no one knew what to say, how to say it, what to do, if they could do anything. The General Sales Manager, Chuck (whom I call my surrogate dad because he does such a great job at directing me in the stead of my wonderful Daddy) put it perfectly by intimating that there is no magic words we can say, no miraculous actions we can produce, so there is no reason to feel helpless. It still doesn't take the helplessness away.

As the morning continued in silence, Chuck boldly walked in and offered his quiet and solid support to Helen. Jen and I still said nothing, not sure what to say, just trying to give her room to breathe. By early afternoon, with only again having suffered small talk, the General Manager Richard came in to see Helen and offered his support as well. Quietly, sweetly, respectfully. Richard is not very quiet so it was amazing to see him in a very tender moment.

Helen was closing up shop, leaving early at 1:00 and I finally asked her how her husband and her were doing. This question resulted in a cryfest.....Helen, Jen and I....just trying to keep it together and oddly enough, it was exactly what was needed to help lift the feeling of anxious depression. Helen was so strong, so emotional, so honest; Jen and I were so touched by the struggle that she's been fighting alongside her husband that long after she left we were still crying at our desks.

There is nothing that the chemotherapy can do and they both know that. John, after apologizing to Helen over and over again for having to leave her, came to the quick thought that he might want to continue rigorous chemo so that he can stay around a bit longer for her. Helen, who heartbreakingly uttered "I have been with this man for more than half my life", believes that he should choose to not seek anymore chemo (for it won't have any real result) and instead spend his last days living it up and travelling with her.

I can't tell you how much this has affected me, and how much reading your comments about how your past friends, going through a similar experience, has affected you.

Life, to me, is a one time deal. If I get to do it over again, I'll certainly try to outdo my first stab at it, but in my mind...this is IT. This is it. So don't you all ask me why I'm so freaking crazy sometimes, LOL.

What Ivan's Lack of Life Meant

Right now, as I fight back tears, I try to remember a very important lesson: live your life to your fullest. Enjoy your moments, seize them when you can, and never ever think that you cannot do something.

There is a short story that I read in my late education called "The Death of Ivan Ilytch" by Leo Tolstoy. One of Tolstoy's shortest works, it in essence describes a man's unexpected death (well, at least he didn't expect it). He'd spent his every moment focusing on work, not on the important things: family, friends, fun. He spent all of his living moments indulged in only WORK.

His family eventually left him. In his moment of truth, while he's on his death bed, he realizes that his only source of comfort is the boy he's hired to take care of him. His only confidante is a strange slave boy trying to make his discomfort more comfortable. Ivan is filled with regret.

When I originally read this story, I was determined to live my life without regret and have managed to do fairly well. Everything I do, whether it be stupid or unfounded or retarded or humiliating, I stand by everything. I don't want to do things over again because I like the lessons that my mistakes give me.

What's my point? My point is that today I heard something horrifying, something that makes me reflect back to Ivan Ilytch and the type of person I don't want to be. My point is that younger folk don't really consider death as a reality but should.

My boss is a wonderful woman who has endured things that she's probably too humble to recap. Her husband has been fighting stage 4 liver cancer since this past December. The doctors did not sugarcoat it....they told them that he would die of the disease. So Helen and her husband decided to try to prolong his life for as long as they could.

They fought the insurance companies, they fought through many different chemo cocktails, and now they are told that all of their efforts are all for naught. Today her husband was told that they could try a more rigorous form of chemo which would have nasty side effects, or that he could relish his ONE to SIX months to live.

This announcement put my life back into perspective and it made me recognize those dreams that I still have to reach. Life is so short and it can be taken from any one of us within the blink of an eye. I don't want to be like Ivan Ilytch. I don't want to think, upon my deathbed, that my life was not fulfilled to the extent I wished.

Neither do you.

Mohawk Gang

So on Saturday, Scott decided to amuse himself when he took the clippers to his head and came down sporting a very thin line of a mohawk. I made him keep it for a day, and just when he was about to shave it off, we thought it would be fun to give someone ELSE a mohawk. Guess! Guess who!

If you're still questioning who got the matching 'hawk, check out the photos!

My life

I know that living 3000 miles away from my family makes it hard for everyone to understand my life. I know that I may mention people, I may tell you about them, but there's never really a face to the name, never really anything to help you see what's just become normal to me.

Thus, I'm posting some pics of our San Diego family! Hope you enjoy! We have several family members and friends that you probably have heard about but never could picture in your mind.

The Campbells, from left to right: Brian, Trevor, Kymberli and Kyler.

Nick and Diane D'Agostino with Diane's daughter Kristin Monroe.

Sarafina and TJ. Our awesome zoo and Wild Animal Park buddies ... and amazing friends!

Jen and Seth. Jen is the most colorful and outrageous coworker ever and Seth is a self-proclaimed book snob (OK, Jen actually proclaimed him that, but I agree) and an Orioles fan (Red Sox are his back up team). Cool peeps.

Ed. Enough said.

A Kid's Idea of Right and Wrong

OK, so yesterday, we all went out to Kymberli's (my sister-in-law) restaurant for her birthday. I could not tell you what the hell brought on the conversation or the outburst, but her 8-year-old son went to make a wise ass comment and instead said something about "I hear Mommy and Daddy have sex." The entire table got quiet and Brian says, "What did you just say?"

Well, Kyler (my nephew) was so terrified that sex was a horrible word that he broke down at the table, despite everyone's insistence that his off-the-wall comment was actually pretty freaking funny and that he was NOT in trouble for saying it. He really believed he'd said something horribly wrong. Here is my pic of Kyler, absolutely traumatized at what he believed was his own naughtiness.

Nappy Headed Robincita

So I just needed to post a pic of what salt water does to fine hair. I almost wanted to walk up to people and demand they lick my hair...seriously, the amount of salt concentrate clinging to every strand might be enough to supply the entire world with some good food seasoning.

Not kidding, I went for a bit of a dip (it was quite hot this past weekend) and as I was sitting on the boat, I realized I was completely coated with a nasty thick film of dried salt. Ick. Anyway, here's my nappy head after all was said and done.