thorvalson.net : babble ether

Aw yeah, baby. Comin' to a town near you.

Go check out our kick ass new car!

Seriously. God bless the Menomonee Falls Volkswagon dealership, and God bless Greg for being such a stellar human being that he has this kind of karma kicking back at him all the time.

Dude. It is SO MUCH FUN to drive! Moonroof, power windows and locks, global positioning system, CD player with satellite radio (yay, Air America! yay, Air Ireland!), EIGHT air bags.... They even gave him these ridiculous Go Speed Racer wheels. Absolutely retarded the deal he got. And absolutely fabulous.

AND IT'S ONLY GOT 51.7 MILES ON IT, most of which were accumulated on the way home from the dealership!

So lucky. So, so lucky.

Goddamn Fucking Shit I Love You, You Bad Ass Motherfucker.

1. Car is in the shop. One cat. converter later (thanks, Mom!), my car is now (hopefully, goddammit it better be) emissions test-ready. Hallelujah.

2. We saw the Benskes twice in 24 hours over the weekend, convincing me that something is indeed at work in the universe. Hallefuckin'lujah.

3. Greg and I are one inspection away from buying a house. Cross your fingers, count your rosaries, channel all of your collective positive energies and throw 'em up thissaway. Nothing is certain, of course, until my boxes of books are kissing his boxes of cleaning supplies, but even so... I am so proud of us right now I could piss myself. I feel like Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman in that movie I forget the name where they're Irish immigrants in an expanding America (only Greg is way better looking than Tom Cruise and does a much better Irish accent and is probably a better actor and overall isn't fucking shitballs crazy HEY! VITAMINS CURE EVERYTHING! like Tom Cruise and I AM NOT COMPARING YOU TO TOM CRUISE HE IS NOT EVEN FROM THIS PLANET, but still I just mean I was thinking of this movie and anyway) and they have to race to get their property and she's all bad ass YEEEE-HAH! riding a horse and he's all WHOO-HOO! and they have to beat the shit out of a bunch of people to get the land they want and when they do, he plants the fucking flag in the dirt and picks up his woman and they're all, HOLY FUCKING SHIT I LOVE YOU, YOU BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER!

Okay, maybe not just like that. But close.

Halle halle, krishna krishna, my sweet lord goddamn...

Finally. A poem that didn't turn into a song.

learning to be
with someone else.
very different from
learning to be with
someone else.
formerly, always the latter.
formerly, always formerly.
now, a hopeful silence.
an open space between that allows
breath
movement
potential.
I'm still learning.
stay with me
over there in our bed where I can't reach
grab onto
squeeze too tightly.
I'm still learning.

I got a comment through the grapevine that a friend was a little concerned about the last entry, so I just wanted to check in. The blog's on Pause for a while, I think. Please stand by and the operator will assist you when she's ready.

Dear God,

Go fuck yourself. After five days of pretty much feeling like Everything I Touch Turns To Shit, I just wanted to send my congratulations. You have finally succeeded in your long-time effort to convince me that this is actually scientific fact backed by hard evidence, and that any promising ideas I have for the immediate, midrange, or distant future should be permanently put away and stamped with the words "YEAH. RIGHT. WE'LL GET RIGHT ON THAT."

Yay, you. You get a prize.

Your friend,
Steph

"I like the curls, but that hair spray sure doesn't taste good."

Miss Maddie Larsh sports the finest in modern Western attire for her big night out with Dad. Miss Larsh raised $120 for her school through the Wild West Fest fundraiser, earning her an array of fabulous prizes.

Tell them what the little lady has won!

Well, Bob, Miss Maddie will be bringing home... a butterfly fake tattoo, a "tiny and very cute" stuffed horse named Horsey, a pedometer, a $15 gift certificate for Dunham's Sports store, and... FOUR WARRANTS!, bestowing upon her the authority to have her teacher, Ms. Denice, arrested four times at tonight's festival! Ms. Denice will spend up to forty minutes of tonight's two-hour event locked up in "Tippe Jail" (unless, of course, she posts bail at one dollar per arrest), while Miss Maddie happily slops globs of chili into her freshly curled Shirley Temple ringlets, which Mommy will likely never attempt ever again as long as she lives so help her God.