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Here. Now. | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2013/05/29/here-now
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. It’s three years later. Really, it’s six years later. I spat something onto this page back in 2010, in a faint-hearted attempt to renew my creative juices. They drowned again. But something is different this time. This time, I believe. Ray LaMontagne had to point out the obvious to me. He had to tell me to be here, now. But more important than my location on google maps, my wardrobe, and my current physical comforts: I am HERE. NOW. When I’m...
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Madness! | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/madness
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. Garden State. Yes. I’ve been way too happy with white walls. The crudely animated space lobster on the TV makes far more sense to me than Fareed Zakariah. Is that wrong? I’m in my early thirties and married and all that. Shouldn’t I be concerned with worldly goings-on? Nah I’ll leave the politics to my non-citizen husband. There’s an alcoholic robot to appease me. Laquo; And now for something completely different. Date : April 13, 2010. Not Just N...
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The pain of music. | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2013/06/24/the-pain-of-music
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. The pain of music. 8220;Sometimes, making music is painful. Sometimes, that’s the point.”. I typed these words on Facebook just a few minutes ago, in response to my own status. Piano time, it said; I had mentioned that kleenexes might be necessary for this go ’round with my 88-keyed lover. Why is it painful to be a musician? Why do so many of us carry the perpetual undercurrent of ennui? We have a gift! This is where the pain comes in. Because mus...
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Rocks. | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2010/04/14/rocks
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. So every now and then a completely earth-shattering notion seeps into my consciousness: Our lives revolve around rocks. One rock, in particular: gold. Does anyone else think it’s completely mind-boggling that damn near every stress incurred in human life pertains to the perpetual need to hoard rocks? That some thousands of years ago, someone determined that a shiny yellow rock was currency? When did this happen? And how, exactly, did the worldR...
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Sperm Donor’s Day | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2013/06/16/sperm-donors-day
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. Sperm Donor’s Day. I had always been bitter about Father’s Day. Not bittersweet, mind you, just flat-out bitter. Yes, I grew up with a father present in the house. My siblings and I were provided for, fed, clothed, dragged to gatherings of an unreasonably large group of people with whom we shared some faulty genes. But was there anything remotely close to love present within this man whose eyes look back at me in the mirror? Absolutely not. ;).
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The Cheesecake Incident | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2013/05/31/the-cheesecake-incident
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. I am a very talented woman. This is known. Sadly, not all of my talents are… good things. Unfortunately, I’m just not good at the games and rules and general bullshit that go along with getting to know people, let alone dating. During a particularly rough spell of infection, known to most as my twenties, I threatened to write a book called. Funny Girls Don’t Get Laid,. He called, plans were made, and at the end of the evening when he asked me to s...
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Rant | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2007/11/24/rant
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. I promise, I’ll get back to being funny really soon. But I just have to unload some shit first. Bear with me. I am a girl, after all. I’m a weirdo. I’ve never seen. I’d much rather read a book than watch TV. I’m a classically trained opera singer who’d sooner be swilling bourbon and screaming the blues than be twittering away onstage at The Met. Why, you ask? Because I’m terrified. But goddammit, I’m scared. Goddamn. I need a drink. More than that...
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And now for something completely different. | Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts
https://tardparty.wordpress.com/2008/10/22/and-now-for-something-completely-different
Grits, Tits, and Oven Mitts. Your Daily Kick In The Nuts. And now for something completely different. Well, not really. It’s completely related to all that shite I wrote last month, but I’m not ready to tackle it yet. Or better yet, I don’t know if I’m allowed to discuss it publicly yet. Yes, that was complete, unadulterated snark. Deal with it. 😆. This post is a devotion to all the things I love about my Mocha Man, because I never, ever want to take him for granted. I love his twisted sense of humor.
