I am Jack's bleeding ulcer

Selling a house is damn frightening. I don't mean zombie frightening either, more like sick-to-my-stomach-throbbing-headache-this-could-financially-ruin-me, terrifying. So much to do, no clue how to do it. The really big question is whether we should use a real estate agent or "For Sale by Owner." I bought a book because if there is ever a really big question you need answered, the For Dummies series is probably working on the (third edition) answer right at this moment. Unfortunately, I read all 287 pages of House Selling for Dummies and I am now more confused than ever.

Selling without a real estate agent means (according to dummies) I need to know ". . . how to open escrow, get a preliminary title report, order property inspections, handle contingency removals, order a payoff demand for my mortgage. . . ”
(I am Jack's cold sweat)
The stupid book doesn't even tell you how to do these things, just that we should know how to do them. What kind of freaking advice is that?

So my next thought is to bite the bullet and get a real estate agent who will do most of the bitch work, but will take a commission of $13,000 in the process. That's a lot of Benjamins for Pete's sake (Benjamin and Pete sitting' in a tree. . .). However it also means I might get some sleep and come out of the next three months without an ulcer (I am Jack's raging bile duct).

My agent finding methodology

Real estate agent #1: recommended by our Relocation Today (company that is moving us) specialist. I can only assume the recommendation is based on some sort of qualifications.

Real estate agent #2: has the exact same name as my sister! We received a mailer from her and while I was wondering how Karen’s mail ended up at my house, I realized it was from Karen G____ not to Karen G____. I kind of like the idea of using an agent with a good name (you can look at her website if you like www.kareng____.com)

This is where you come in, wise reader. I am curious what your opinion is.

HTML . . . yawn

At this time I would like to point out the links over to the right - Good Search in particular. Good Search is a Yahoo! search engine that makes a donation to the charity of your choice every time you use it. (Google truly has enough money.) I am currently donating to the Special Olympics. The only draw back is that you can't use the donations as a tax deduction.

5 thing that force you to 'fess up to your adulthood:
- You say things like "too bad you can't use ___ as a tax deduction"
- Your parents are excited (rather than petrified) that you may be pregnant
- You just don't get the clothes kids are wearing these days (skinny jeans?)
- The idea of a 15 (vs. 30) year mortgage is hot
- The slang you said as a kid went out long ago. . . and is now on its way back in

5 slang phrases I said as a kid that should like, totally come back:
- psyche
- rad
- dudette
- gag me with a spoon
- big whoop

Come on! We can make it happen if we all put forth the effort. Try and use one everyday. We will be trendsetters.

A completely unrelated topic:
Heather, why spend all that money on med school when this is all you need?

- lada does not come with five interchangeable prostates

Immigration Law*

Last night on Desperate Housewives, the Gabrielle character used the term "wetback." Am I the only one who found this inappropriate? Do racial slurs really belong on ABC's most watched night of television? Do they think it is okay just because Eva Longoria is herself Latina? Has hip-hop culture made people think these horrible terms aren't insulting if the person using them is of that particular race? Whatever, I was annoyed.

Other race related issue:
I made a comment the other day in favor of the proposed legislation that would put fences along our southern border. Well, actually what I said was, "We should build a wall." Apparently this was distasteful.

"How dare you say that lada! Your ancestors came from Germany, why shouldn't everyone have the same opportunity that you have had?"

Yes, fine. I completely agree. Everyone should have the same opportunities to make something magnificent of their life. I understand that our economy relies heavily on immigrant workers who gladly do labor that Americans snub their noses at. (I know, I know, that sentence ended with a preposition, but "labor at which Americans snub their noses" would have made me sound like I was a first-rate snob.) I am not opposed to immigration in any way; my problem with illegal immigrants is that they are usually paid under the table - and I have a problem with people (all people, not just immigrants) who enjoy the benefits of being an American and don't pay for it.

"Why should they pay taxes? Taxes don't do much for me. I'm not on Welfare, and Social Security will be gone long before I can use it. We have no universal health care. . . (etc.)," the argument continued.

Good, you are lucky that you don't need food stamps. But what about the things that the government provides that really do affect our lives everyday?

schools / police / fire protection / street maintenance & stoplights / the judicial system / sewer and sanitation / emergency weather warnings / building codes / public transportation / environmental protection (weak, but better than naught) / currency production / jails and prisons / snowplows and salt trucks/ science / agriculture /US embassies overseas and more things I can't think of right now because I take them for granted and wouldn't really notice them unless they were gone.

Russ and I paid over $25,000 in taxes last year. That's why I am irritated by those who don't contribute. I don't believe in anarchy, and I pay a helluva lot of money every two weeks for the right to have a cop give me a speeding ticket - that costs me another $75.

Yes, the government is out of control right now. All the (should be illegal) things that are being done in the name of anti-terrorism are reminiscent of the anti-communism craziness we saw in the 1940's. But if you want to complain about how much the war in Iraq is costing, put your money where your mouth is. The projected 2006 deficit is $360 billion; the American public cheated on their taxes last year to the tune of about $400 billion. And that is only legal Americans, imagine how much the working illegal immigrants could contribute, rather then feeding most everything they earn in the US back into Mexico's economy. I just think Uncle Sam should get his cut, and if I have to pay my share than dammit, you should pay yours.

If you have a heart condition, continue reading at your own risk.

Yes, I'm proud to be an American . . . most of the time. However, when I hear that a US ball park (minor league) is now selling a bacon cheeseburger served on a glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut bun, I sometimes wish I were Mexican. Those goat-meat burritos seem logical compared to that saturated fat monstrosity. Ick, my heart hurts just talking (typing) about it.

- lada loves her sister more than any illegal immigrant

* I was pondering this entry while at work today, then came home and saw Evan beat me to it (which was really weird). I hear what you have to say Evan, and I agree. However, tax evasion is a felony for any American so we can't give special privileges to those here illegally.

Do you grasp the concept?

Weak handshakes from men convey one of two (equally repulsive) things:
• They are too effeminate
• They are convinced that being a big, strapping man they may crush my fragile hand without even trying

Weak handshakes from women:
• They are trying to be dainty despite the fact they weigh 278 pounds
• They have never worked a day in their lives and will soon use an alcohol wipe to be rid of my peasant germs as soon as I am not looking



I met a young female college student recently who squeezed my hand so hard it was as though she were trying to get the last toothpaste out of the tube. “What is this girl trying to prove?” I thought. As the evening progressed, she made it abundantly clear what she was trying to prove:
• She is “one of the boys”
• She is smarter than me
• She is going to be richer than me
• She dates men who like to be dominated
• She would never be like me (I agree!)


Perhaps I am too harsh in my quick judgment of people. Maybe this girl never had a father who loved her enough to teach her that looking someone in the eye while giving them a solid handshake conveys strength, integrity, honesty and confidence – simple as that.

- ain't no party like a lada party cause a lada party don't stop

Easter: To Dye For

Fun Chuch Signs

Psalm readings here
Come early if you want a back pew
Dusty bibles lead to durty lives
"Fire & Life" insurance here
God answers kneel-mail
Feeling down? Have a faith-lift
How would Jesus drive?
GODISNOWHERE (read it again)
Happy Hour - 8:00 AM Sundays
Ch...ch - What's missing? U R
Lent: Christian spring training*
Forbidden fruits create many jams
Exposure to the Son may prevent burning
The best Christian vitamin: B1
Are U crunk for Jesus?
Moses started out as a basket case too
Who lit the fuse for the "Big Bang"?
If evolution were true, moms would have 3 arms
God's last name is not "#&%@"
Is God your co-pilot? Switch seats
April 1st: National Atheists Day**
Hot outside? We're heir conditioned
God wanted spiritual fruits, not religious nuts
Body piercing saved my life
Where are you going?
Santa Claus never died for anyone
Who's your Daddy?

try this

- lada, outsmarting Satan daily

*Augustine's favorite
**my personal favorite

The lada Reality Show

This blog thing is weird.

It has been brought to my attention that people read this. People who survived Dust & Wagner (other than Karen and Britt, they love me even though I'm wack). People who know Wordwealth and say things like chthonic and tmesis. Crap. Now I feel like someone is reading this with a red pen in hand. . .
This blog thing is weird.
This blog thing has made Russ weird(er).

sit. 1
(We bought a dyson vacuum a couple months ago. It is the best vacuum on the planet - seriously. So, now Russ vacuums constantly. In fact, he vacuums so frequently that I have had no need to use the dyson myself.)
Russ: Did you use the dyson yet?
lada: No, you vacuumed yesterday.
Russ: Did you see all the dirt it picked up? You should try it, it's awesome!
lada: I would try it except you always vacuum before I get the chance.
Russ: Oh, that sucks. . . hahahaha. . . "that sucks!". . . hehehe. . .
Russ: You should blog that.

sit. 2
Russ: Am I Neo?
lada: umm. . . Neo from the Matrix?
Russ: Yeah.
lada: No, you are not Neo.
Russ: How about Morpheus?
lada: . . .
Russ: (in his best Laurence Fishburne voice) I am MOR-PHE-US!
lada: Do you want me to blog this? I swear I will. . .

sit. 3
Russ: Did you blog about the dyson yet?
lada: No.
Russ: You should, it would be funny.
lada: . . .
Russ: "That sucks" - that's hilarious. . . you know, it "never loses suction".
lada: Yeah, I got it the first time, honey.



sit. 4
Russ: Am I in your blog?
lada: Not today.
Russ: I want to be blogged - I'm a blog hog.
lada: Then why don't you write your own blog?
Russ: I don't want to write about shit - I just want to be written about.
lada: . . . ?
Russ: That's when you know you are famous, the center of attention. . .
lada: You don't even read my blog.
Russ: I don't know where it is.
lada: I emailed the address to you a long time ago.
Russ: . . .
lada: The site is even saved under "Favorites" on this computer.
Russ: . . .
Russ: Did you see the picture I sent to Kim on myspace? It's sooo funny.

This blog thing is weird, but it entertains me at least. Thanks to all who read and/or contribute - I wouldn't do it without you (well, that may not be true, but I said it so you'd feel involved with the blog*).

- lada posing for the cameras

*name that tune

I'll take the one less traveled by -

I don’t like poetry. Well that isn’t exactly true; I can appreciate good poetry, it’s just that most of it (with some obvious exceptions; Dante, Poe, etc.) is not good. I only like verse that rhymes (sue me) or at the very least has a solid rhythm. Too many of these long flowery sonnets are like bad run-on sentences, full of convoluted metaphors that cause my mind to wander (do I want a salad or a Shamrock Shake for lunch…hmmm?). Other reasons I don’t dig on poetry:

1) At a poetry reading in high school, a friend of my sister read a personal poem about her uncle molesting her on a boat as a child. Everyone clapped and told her she was a marvelous writer. I wanted to call child services.

2) At the age of nine I wrote a color poem for school. In fact, it is the only poem I can remember writing and it is therefore burned into my brain to forever mock any writing ability I think I have.

Blue is the color of sadness and woe
Blue is a color in the rainbow
Blue is the feeling you get when you cry
Blue is the teardrop that falls from your eye

I wasn’t a depressed fourth-grader, I swear, blue is just less lame than white clouds and pink bunnies.

3) Who is this "man form Nantucket" and why is that the only line ever used from this infamous limerick? Is it too risqué to recite in its entirety (I can see some dangerous rhyming potential) or does the phrase have some meaning that has nothing to do with a New England man but instead speaks toward some life lesson? This is not a rhetorical question - I really want to know.

4) An old boyfriend was assigned to write a haiku for class. Being the typical love-sick teen, he wrote it about me:

static attraction
her hair in my face
tastes like love

Perhaps I should have swooned like any good adolescent girl whose boyfriend wrote her a love poem, but mostly I was annoyed that he was going to get a crap grade because it was obviously not a haiku (5-7-5 about nature) and that his D- was going to be earned in my honor. Bleh. (It didn’t help his case that he presented his poem to me on a post-it note. I tell you, kids these days just don’t understand romantic gestures.) Of course, it is the only poem a boy has written for me; I suppose that is why I still remember it.

5) Why, when reading poetry, do poets make their voices go up at the end of each line as though the poems are full of questions? (un-knowing? un-loving? un-love…ed?) Are there no declarative sentences in poetry?

My verse of choice is accompanied by an electric guitar not bongo drums - everyone loves good lyrics.

- lada still has miles to go before she sleeps

"Mash on the Zippy-Zap"

Monmouth County Police Pipes & Drums!




The tour of Georgia was a success. We made the Savannah paper (Savannah Now). Can you see us in the picture? Really, we're in there - try leaning in a little. (Karen says we were wearing green. Does that help?)

I had too many adventures to tell, so for my fellow revelers, this about sums it up - everyone else use your imagination, it needs exercise anyway:

"Do you know Danny Boy?" * boiled peanuts * mmm...goat meat * bagpipes * "The beatings will continue until morale improves" * hard right vs. soft right * "I hate short people" * kilts are wicked hot * "Everyone hates the word moist" * "Did you make a nest back there? You're like a rat" * "I don't think he could dunk, even on PCP" * bagpipes ("I almost peed my pants") * "McDonald's soap doesn't taste very good" * vat babies and marsupials ("Will you be my patent lawyer?") * bagpipes * OCD and tourette syndrome * intents and purposes * "Restrooms are for patrons only, by a drink" (sic)* blesshou * quaff * bagpipes * "I'm starting to think I have more in common with Karen" * Sonic vs. Chickfillet * X-Men, the Phoenix Saga * vegetables = guys * Arctic Monkeys * "Hey bitches!" * I heart Pink Floyd * Walter's van * chandelier earrings and fleece (but they match) * "I hear bagpipes!" * "Do you have alcohol?" "Coke?" "No, AL-CO-HOL" * The first 10 minutes of The Boondock Saints * "I hate people that spell St. Patty's with D's" * mechanical bull * milkshakes vs. malts * "It'd be cool to be around for the end of the world" (that's great it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes and aeroplanes. Oh, come on, we were in Athens, I had to) * rainwater vs. frost * bagpipes (theme anyone?) * "Are you fucking kidding me?" (Jersey style) * laura/laurie/loren * CAGE * "Midgets deserve love too" "Yeah, from other midgets" * You've lost that loving feeling * "Is our luggage still back there?" * Jell-O shots from the magic bag * pipes and drums * "Is your number really 5555?" * "What did the goat do to become infamous?" * Summer of Love warm-up...

For the record (points of arguement):

Panda Bears are bears, not raccoons.

Beluga Whales are whales and a few are swimming in the Georgia Aquarium at this very moment. This moment, of course being 3/21/2006 - why, what moment are you in? Are you reading Slaughterhouse-Five again? Time travel does not really exist - snap back to reality (oh, there goes gravity; oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked; he's so mad, but he won't give up that easy...ummm...sorry, sometimes I channel white rappers).

Polar Bears have clear fur.

Harry Potter IV was not the most expensive movie ever made; it is a nasty rumor. No real reliable source for this info, but everyone seemed to agree and since I am a lemming, (I think maybe I should write a blog...that would be sooo very clever of me) I also agreed. Apparently Cleopatra has the record after inflation adjustment, followed closely by Titanic and/or Spider-Man 2.

Yellowstone is going to blow up like nobody's business.

Evan's blog is funny. Cheers

Told you it was DUCK tape first.

- lada

Idle minds

Karen and I are off to Savannah for the best St. Patrick's Day parade ever - so you won't hear for me for a few days. Here is something to ponder while I'm gone (as though you have nothing else in your life for which to live).

Optical illusion:

The A and B squares are the same shade of gray. Proof next week.

One in a Million Shot

It seemed unreasonable to say that my husband could never again sleep with anyone else. I do not wish to kill his spirit. So in case the chance ever presents itself, here are the "Only Three Acceptable Exceptions:"

Russ -
Shania Twain
Meg Ryan
Sandra Bullock

lada -
Nick Hexum
Luke Wilson
Bruce Willis

Brad Pitt and Angalina Jolie are not human and it should go without saying that both of us would sleep with either one. Well, I would at least, I won't speak for Russ...

Palmetto state

It is official - we are heading to the great state of South Carolina. Russ starts April 3 and I will kick around just Chi-town long enough to sell the house. Y'all come visit ya hear...

My brain is foggy; I am muddled, so I'm off to bed.

This should entertain you, I mean y'all, for the evenin: Y'allbonics

- lada

Can I get a night-light? (or: Why I hate horror movies)

Picture this:
I am quietly lying in bed drifting off to sleep when a nightmarish, pallid, rotting hand begins slowly reaching toward me... AHHH!

This is why I don't like horror movies.
I am fine during the actual film viewing; I don't flinch or scream like my sweet sister. My problems begin when I go to bed because that is, of course, when the zombies/demons/psychos come to get me.

Last night we watched White Noise, a not too scary Michael Keaton flick about communicating with the dead. During the movie I was quite composed, an hour later in bed and I was hiding under the covers (demons can't see you under covers, duh). Every time I closed my eyes, the decaying hand would start inching closer.
(Sigh)
Russ advised I pretend that the pretend zombie hand is instead a pretend hunk's hand reaching toward me to, umm...well, still grab me but in a much less distressing way. This helped a bit (I laughed) but when the hunk is Mathew McConaughey from the ax murderer movie Frailty, it is all too easy to picture him silently leaning over my bed, ready to chop off my head. I had to sleep with the lights on after we watched that movie - truly frightening.

And let us not forget the most disturbing movie ever - Arachnophobia. Spiders under the covers, nuff said.

I have enough insomnia on my own.

- la "sticking to Disney" da

As promised...

juxtapose - curmudgeon - alactrity - smörgåsbord - bamboozle - clusterfuck - goulash - shenanigans - ubiquitous - Titicaca (lake) - Chattahoochee (river) - transubstantiation (nonsense) - cacaophony - plump - luscious - unctuous - serendipity - transmogrify (Calvin and Hobbs) - glockenspiel - dodecahedron - coagulate - fecundity - chihuahua - touché - engorge

yup, that was fun

(Here you go if you want/need definitions.)

- lada

You sunk my Battleship!

Nothing interesting today other than a phone call from the hubby saying that he wants to name one of our nonexistent children Battle.

Apparently, no child would ever pick on another child named Battle. Okay, I concede, perhaps the other children would shy away from such a bloodthirsty four year old, but let us think of other potential side effects. Would he have to wear fatigues 24/7 - clean his nails with a bowie knife after recess - would a middle name such as Axe or Ship be required?

"What happened to Jack?" I ask, keeping the horror from my voice.
Russ, sensing my hesitation (but still with disturbing excitement in his voice), "Maybe Jack Battle?"
"Ummm (me feigning thought), nope."

Perhaps instead: Melee, Brawl, Combat, Fray, Fisticuffs

We'll just add it to the list of other bad names Russ has suggested (Guy and Lloyd).

- whole lada nothing

P.S. Isn't fisticuffs a great word? Very fun to say, and it actually sounds a little naughty. Tune in tomorrow for more fun words to say.

"Would you like a lollipop?"

So today I go to the bank, drive through style.

pull in - roll down window - insert check - push send button - tube gets vacuumed into bank

This is where things get complicated. My instinct is to now roll up my car window because it is efffen cold outside (38 degrees) and I am losing heat by the second. BUT, the teller wants to talk to me.
"Hello, how are you?"
I'm fine, but I want to roll my window up, how are you?

Would that be rude? I might miss her "Thanks, have a good day" if my window is up. Or, even worse, what if she has an important question about my pending transaction, "Did you want any cash back today?" while I am obliviously singing along with the radio (snug in my car).

What is the awkwardness potential of the teller talking to a piece of glass and receiving no response. I would not want to hurt her feelings...she has my money (power).

- l.da

Pulaski Day

The first Monday of March is designated Pulaski Day in Chicago. Casimir Pulaski was a famous Polish guy who kicked the Russians out of Poland. He ran into Ben Franklin in Paris, heard about our plight in the (not yet named) US, and ended up taking over the American cavalry in the Revolution. He then did all sorts of wonderful things to help the colonies kick the red coats back across the Atlantic.

But lada, you say, I didn't come here for a history lesson. This is supposed to be light, brainless reading. Have no fear dear reader, it gets funky before the end.

Chicago has the highest population of Polish peeps outside of (you guessed it) Poland. So we honor our heritage by giving Polish children the day off from school. Well, really all kids have the day off, I know this because every last one of them was in front of me in line today at Woodfield. Now, I don't mind whippersnappers taking over my mall, but this girl in Anthopologie had a shirt with half her stomach hanging out.

lada - you? A prude? No, I am not so matured that skimpy clothing offends me. It was what the lack of shirt revealed (hushed whisper) she had an outie.

I don't like outie belly buttons.
If I am innocently shopping at my mall, I should not be forced to look at your abnormal navel. I wish all the outie belly buttons of the world would go some other place (perhaps the Galapogos) so I would have no more forced interaction with them.

I am a belly button bigot. (Say that out loud, alliterations are fun!)

Do the owners of outies long for innies? Are they tired of their nub getting caught in shirt zippers and buttons? (Help! My button is stuck in my button!) Do they attend support groups, or are they living outie loud and outie proud? Why do they even exist? Do doctors make the conscious decision or is it some horrible mistake that gives them night terrors? Lucky for me, I have a (almost) doctor best friend - Heather, who I routinely call for medical advice.

lada: Why do people have outies?
Head: I have no clue, maybe it has to do with the way the cord is cut.
lada: I thought they were tied.
Head: No, they put a clamp on it until it heals over, then it gets all gross looking. I can probably answer this question better after my pediatric rotation.
lada: Do they have plastic surgery to fix it?
Head: I imagine. I think girls would have the surgery done, I would. I would hate to have an outie; it would be nasty. Although it would be kinda funny if you pierced it.

Heather - here you go:

- lada

The Flowers You Gave Me...

Kare and Britt came out on Friday night to do a little evil ex-boyfriend voodoo. Three chicks from Raytown, pizza rolls, alcohol - it quickly turned into flipping through old high school yearbooks (since we all live many miles from Ray now, we felt we could safely do this without feeling too cheesy). I even dug out a snap shot of Britt and me from 8th grade...yuck.

It got late so we headed to Cheeseburger 'N Paradise so Russ could sleep. Good band. They played a mix of mostly P.Floyd and Weezer. I had a festive drink called a Hurricane Bob (sing it with me, "hurricane, but you can call me slurr-icane...") that came bedecked in a plastic sunglasses pin that properly belongs on a jean jacket in 1987; I of course, had to have them in every color (= 4 Bobs). Spankin good time.

Home for cupcakes and bed, voodoo accomplished.

- lada out

Welcome to lada land

I was going to skip the "let me introduce myself" stuff (you guys all know me and if you don't, it doesn't really matter) but my sister was doing this Top Ten list thingy on Friday and it seemed rather apropos for my first blog entry. It works like this - top ten things that really rock your world (no people please). Mine in no particular order:

10. Fireworks
9. Puppies
8. Champagne
7. Music
6. Hair dye
5. Books
4. Dark chocolate
3. Photographs
2. Roller coasters (wee!)
1. Fire

Feel free to post you own top tens.

- lada