Musings

Damn, feels like Satan is shoving a hot poker in my pee hole! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am passing yet another kidney stone. This will officially be #6. Still don't have a name for this one... First one was Rocky, second was Stoney, third was Pebble, fourth and fifth were twins named Stone Phillips and Rock Hudson. It's been three days of pure hell waiting for this (or these) damn thing to flush out of my kidneys into my bladder. I refuse to go to the emergency room, it is a complete and total waste of time and money. Last February, I waited in the emergency room from 8pm until 1am, when they finally took some x-rays and told me I had just passed not one, but two kidney stones the size of a pencil eraser. Really? No shit! I hadn't felt anything! I had just been writhing in pain in the waiting room for the last 5 hours, howling and cursing up a storm...I'm sure no one else minded me screaming "FUCK! FUCK ME! IT HURTS SO FUCKING BAD! PLEASE GOD, FUCKING MAKE IT GO AWAY!" for five continuous hours. They ended up giving me some pain meds (only about 6 hours too late assholes!) and sending me home at 3am. Keep in mind I drove myself to the emergency room (Dave was in Colorado, I was in Phoenix) and drove myself home in a drug induced haze. Miracle I didn't kill myself or someone else.
Pray for me, you bastards.

You know what I hate? Extra words. For instance, "He died in a fatal car accident." No shit, Sherlock. Or as I heard last night: "Coming up next: the story of a woman who was viciously raped." Really? Viciously raped? Is there any other way to get raped? Does anyone ever report a rape and tell the cops, "It was sort of awesome! He raped me, but oh so gently!" Or does anyone at a rape support group stand up and say, "Oh, he caressed my cheek and told me I was pretty before he forced his penis inside me. He was very nice." Fucking idiots.

Highway robbery. What the fuck is that? When is the last recorded robbery to take place on a highway? What the fuck are you talking about? You know how hard it is to rob someone on a highway? Let's say you pull up alongside someone doing 60, pull out a shotgun and shoot them in the face. Forget about how hard that is by itself. That car is going to flip amazingly out of control. It could land anywhere. And if that person shit themselves, it's going to make it a real disgusting mess when you have to reach into his back pocket for a wallet.

Shorts with boots. Winter capri pants worn with boots. Pants tucked into boots. Jeans three sizes too long with boots. This shit needs to stop, ladies. It's ugly, retarded and so fucking stupid.

If "con" is the opposite of "pro", then wouldn't "Congress" be the opposite of "Progress"? Or did I just blow your fucking mind?

Back to skipping stones.

And God Said, Let There Be Turkeys!

Leave it to my sister in law to actually send me a Thanksgiving card featuring religion and God. What...the...freaking...hell? All this time I thought Thanksgiving was when the native Indians and the English settlers sat down to a nice meal of turkey, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. How wrong I was. Thanksgiving is another occasion (including Easter and Christmas) to give thanks to The Lord Almighty for all He has done for us. You know, being born poor, not getting to have sex, dying and all that other stuff...
"And on the Seventh Day, God created turkeys and Indians. And He said: Let it be known that on the Third Thursday of the Eleventh Month, man shalleth kill a turkey, stuffeth its hind quarters with delicious savories, then ingest it and enjoyeth it while deviously rubbing his hands together and reminiscing of how he stoleth the Indians' home from right under their noses. This is the Word Of God. Amen."

Here are some more holidays God created:
Mother's Day: you should Thank God he created man and woman, so that you could have a mother who could get knocked up and squeeze you out of her womb.

Father's Day: what did you think? That mom did it all by herself? Thank God he created sperm.

Memorial Day: you better remember to Thank God today, or he'll kick your ass. Okay, he won't really kick your ass, but he'll send some really bad mojo your way.

4th of July: God likes his fireworks, you wankers. It's the only day of the year he gets a nice show from the U.S.A. So go all out and Thank God he invented exploding hand manglers.

Labor Day: you sorry sack of shit. You idiotic, retarded, shit-for-brains lazy bastard. You should Thank God you have a job, so you don't spend all day sitting on your Lazy Boy recliner, watching reruns of "Dukes of Hazzard" while sipping generic beer.

New Year's Eve: God's just letting you know tomorrow is the beginning of a new year for you. You should Thank Him for reminding you that you've almost made it through another year of hell.

New Year's Day: Thank God you made it through another year of hell! Now there's only 364 more days of torture to live through.

What do you know, turns out I AM a total bitch.

This fucking telemarketing company has been calling me every day, three times a day, for a week now. They're called "Southnet" something or other. The first time they called, I answered, said "HELLO???" about 4 times, when finally a lady speaking what can only be described as a dialect of Ebonics asked me if I had time to answer a survey about the insurance company I used to have 5 years ago. I politely let her finish the little speech she had prepared (and was reading off of a sheet of paper) and informed her I was not interested and had not dealt with their company in years. She told me "Thank you anyway, have a good evening." How nice. I thought for once that I get one of those irritating calls asking for something or other, she was quite understanding and polite.
Cut to the next day, 8am. The phone rings and when I look at caller ID, it says "Southnet" again. Maybe they misdialed, or it's another one of their representatives calling, not knowing I had already spoken to them the day before. I answer the phone and I swear it's the same Ebonics-speaking moron that asks me if I have time for a survey. Devyn is in front of me, so I want to be as nice as I possibly can. I inform this nice lady once again that I do not use their insurance company, nor have I used it in several years. In her fakest, South Carolina-Georgia accent, she says "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'll take you off the list right away, so you don't get called again. Have a good day."
Every day since, at least two phone calls a day.
Yesterday, 2pm. Phone rings, caller ID says "Southnet". This time I am prepared. David is out with Devyn and I can let the beast come out.
I answer "Hello?" (total silence). "Helloooo?" (I can hear someone breathing on the other end). "Hellooo? I know you're there!"
-"I need to speak to Mrs. Hyde."
-"Do you mean Mrs. Hyatt?"
-"Yes, Mrs. Hyatt. Is this Mrs. Hyatt?"
The accent. The pronunciation. The Ebonics. It's the same douchebag from the other day.
-"Yes, this is Mrs. Hyatt, but I could swear I told you the other day I was not interested in doing your survey. Did I stutter? Was I talking to myself when I told you I don't use your insurance company anymore?"
-"Well you don't have to be so rude, ma'am. I was calling to offer you a deal to join our company once again at a huge discount, but if you're going to be so vile and crude, the deal is off."
CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS BITCH????
"Listen, you fucktard. You've called here everyday for a week, I see it on my caller ID. I know it's you everytime, because your fucking Southern fuck accent betrays you. You can take your deal and shove it up your ass! If you ever call here again, I will track you and your company down and sue your asses for harassment! Did you hear me okay this time, or do you need to clean the shit out of your ears?"
-"Well, fine then. We will permanently take you off our client list and put you on our DO NOT CALL LIST. Have a good day."
-"Go fuck yourself."
Was I wrong? A tad too rude maybe?

Have you ever wondered how big a spider's penis is?

Yep, it's pretty small. No wonder I hate spiders.

No wonder I love sushi!!

I went on a website today, called MyHeritage.com. You can upload your picture and it compares your facial features, size, hair color, etc. and lets you know which celebrity you most resemble.
This is the picture I uploaded:

One minute later, I get the results.
First up, actress Fairuza Balk, from the movie "The Craft":

The face recognition software says I have a 75% resemblance to this looker. All right, I can see it... The dark hair, the arched eyebrows, big lips, almond shaped eyes. Not bad, not bad. In fact, I'm pretty excited I look like this total hottie. What a compliment!

Next up, Demi Moore, with 71% resemblance:

Okayyyy....Dark hair, arched eyebrows again....but do I look like I just had some major plastic surgery??? This woman looks like she has a screw on the back of her head that she tightens everyday. If she keeps that up, her belly button will soon be right under her nose and she'll have a beard.

Here's our third candidate, Shannon Doherty, of 9021084037465 fame, 70% resemblance:

What the fuck? I don't look like this crack ho! She is a psychotic, anorexic, bipolar, blowjob giver, queen of hell! Sure, we both have dark hair, but I don't have a gap between my front teeth that's so big I can suck a dick without it touching the sides! She could eat corn through a fence! MyHeritage.com, I'm giving you one more chance, then I'm kicking your ass.

Then the shit hits the fan:

At 70% resemblance, this is Chinese soap opera star Tsumabuki Satoshi. He is obviously my identical twin and we were separated at birth. I always wanted a little Chinese in me.
I'm making egg lolls and flied lice for dinnel. Then tomorrow, I'm hunting down those fuckers at MyHeritage.com.

Night at the Sunset Bar

I can finally tell you all about my famous night at the Sunset Bar in Martigny, when I sang with my brother and his friend Arco...
We got there at about 7 pm for soundcheck, did a couple of songs so the owner could test the levels, then they offered us dinner upstairs in the hotel's restaurant. Swiss salad, overcooked, bland, nasty bowtie pasta and a bottle of wine, on the house. Of course, one bottle wasn't enough, so we ordered a second and had to pay for it. Even that part has a funny story to it: some of my dad's clients from California (Gallo wineries) were visiting us in Saxon, and one of them, a 26 year old named (appropriately enough) David, came with us that night. He decided he wanted to offer us a bottle of wine. We drink it, then David goes to pay for it and they don't take credit cards. He doesn't have any cash. After a few minutes of arguing back and forth, the waiter finally goes to get the HOTEL'S credit card machine, so David can pay for the bottle. All three of the cards he tries get declined. We finally had to collect all the cash we had and pay for the bottle ourselves.
At 8:45, we head back downstairs and get ready for our big concert. My 15 year old niece is with us and I warn her repeatedly not to wander away, to stay where I could see her, since there were about 100 drunker-than-shit 16 to 23 year olds in the club, checking her out. The lights go down, my brother introduces us (by the way, we are "The Groggs"...yeah, I know, don't ask) and starts singing. So far, so good. I sit out the first couple of songs, to let them get the hang of things. Here's Dave doing his best impression of George Harrison/Robert Smith/Elvis Costello:

After a couple of songs, he decides it's time to pull out the big guns and have me sing 4NonBlondes "What's Up". I grab the mic and start singing my heart out...until the end of the song, when the sound guy comes up to me and tells me I'm singing so loud they can hear me clear out of the club. Well shit then. What the fuck! I'm a passionate singer, I can't dial down the volume!!! In fact, I'm so full of passion, I evidently decided to sing with my eyes closed and my head back, kinda like a wolf howling at the moon:

And obviously, I've got my hand in my pocket so I can play with my balls while I'm singing.
See the guy in the far right bottom corner? That's David, the guy from Cali. At this point, he is beginning to wonder what the fuck is up with this group of losers. Notice Arco? He is concentrating in order to remember all the chords to the song.
Next up, David decides to sing a song they have never played before, of which he doesn't know the words and Arco doesn't know the chords. He starts singing, knows a couple of lines, then replaces them with "I don't know the fucking words to this song, fuck, fuckety-fuck-fuck, what the fuck, lalalala...." No one is listening to us anyways, except David, the American guy, who at this point looks like he is torn between laughing his ass off and/or walking away in shame:

Dave is screaming the chords at Arco, who is messing up so bad, it sounds like he is playing a different song.
I have obviously decided there is something so interesting in my pockets, I must keep my hand in there at all times:

Take that fucking hand out of there! Are you playing with yourself? Are you checking for lumps?
Arco doesn't speak English, nor does he know how to sing in English. His English singing sounds kinda like a deaf, retarded, autistic, speech-impediment-ridden, Chinese guy. There was one exception: we did an a cappella version of "Sweet Home Alabama" that rocked the house! We were actually in tune and at the end of it, Dave looked at me and Arco in awe. We sounded like angels:

Then comes my second big solo: Sheryl Crow's 'If It Makes You Happy". Never sang it before. Don't know the lyrics to it. Printed them for this night, but Dave forgot to bring them....so sang the same first verse 5 different times and chorus 7 different times. I faked it all the way through. I saw a guy in front of us ask his friend "what song is this?" Obviously, we butchered it so bad, it didn't even sound remotely like the original. But hey, at least I looked good:

People in the bar got so wasted, they weren't even listening to us, much less looking at us. So we pulled out some oldies but goodies: "Oh Susannah", "Cielito Lindo", and a really, really old and lame Italian classic "Romagna Mia". No one notices.
This nightmare went on until 12:45, when while in the middle of singing a kick-ass version of R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion", complete with double harmonies, the owner looks at us and does the "cut it out" move. You know, finger pretending to cut his own throat. At this point, I'm glad it was only his finger, 'cause we were so bad, if he had a knife in his hand, he would have probably commited suicide. Dave says "Thank you! Good Night!". No one notices. We pack up our stuff and I look for my niece Marine. Nowhere to be found. At about 11pm, she had told me she was going to the bar next door to meet "some girlfriends". It's now 1:15am and we still can't find her. She finally shows up at 1:30, surrounded by "boyfriends" (no other girls in sight) and has the gall to ask us "where did you guys go? I couldn't find you!" I was this close to kicking her ass.

Dave, Arco and American David decide they want to stay out longer, so I drive Marine and her guy friend home and lecture her about her behavior the whole way. I'm such a bitch.
The next day, American David is asked by my mother how the concert was. He turns bright red, mumbles something under his breath, then says: "Huhhhh...it was fine." What an asshole.

Glamour Shots My Ass!

1.My mother-in-law called me today. She told me she wants a very special present from David and I this year: a professional portrait of the three of us. Does she really think I'm going to pose in front of a fake blue-sky-with-white-clouds background, with my hand under my chin, dressed in some ridiculous Sunday church outfit, with the picture taken through a vaseline covered lens for that softer look? IS SHE FUCKING CRAZY???? Yeah, lady, it ain't happening, so get over it. The most you're going to get is a picture of the three of us bending over with our pants down. That's about as pretty as it's gonna get.

2.We are having a party for David's employees in three weeks, I'm serving tomato-cheese fondue (recipe graciously provided by Xa) and some kind of appetizers. Don't know what yet. My dad is sending me two cases of wine from Cali, since the only drink you can consume with cheese fondue is wine. Unless you want to have some serious intestinal blockage the next day.
I need some freakin' ideas for appetizers... Any clue?

3.So Saddam Hussein got the death penalty? Does that surprise anyone? How long will it really be before they go through with his demise? I say he's alive to see 2010...but that's just my opinion.

4.An African company has come up with a new condom that can be applied to an erect member in less than 5 seconds. Gone are the days when one needed to rip the package with his teeth, remove the condom from the package, place it on the head, roll it down the shaft and pinch the tip. Now in one swift move, you can crack open the package and slide it down your shaft in two seconds flat! Now you can keep the romance going without the irritating interruption of the condom!

5.Tomorrow's post should be interesting...I'm finally getting pictures back from my brother of our big concert in Switzerland. From what he tells me, there's some real winners of me belting out in the mic...Guaranteed hilarity ensues.

6.I've got the biggest cold sore on my lower lip, makes me look like Angelina Jolie (only the lips). Don't believe me: check it out:

Looks like I've been sucking on some majorly hot pipes...
Peace Out MoFo's!

Time flies when you're having fun...

Call this a retrospective post...Devyn turned 3 years old on Wednesday and I am utterly saddened. I know, I should be happy my son is growing up healthy and that he is super smart, but I looked at pictures from the last three years today...and I miss him being a baby. When he couldn't talk back to me. When he couldn't hit me in the face. When he didn't tell the other passengers on the plane "Mommy just took a big poo-poo in the toilet!" When he didn't scream "Big Mommy boobies!" in a crowded grocery store.
Here he is in 4 pictures that best describe how he was and what he has become:
A week old:

On his first birthday:

Last year on his 2nd birthday:

Halloween this year: (the day before his 3rd birthday)

I just hope the natural progression won't lead to this:

I've got my fingers crossed.

"Oops, you just fucked your mom!"

I've had it with reality television. It's gotten completely out of control. I was watching an ad last night for a new show on either Bravo or Discovery Channel, about a reality show that takes place in a monastery full of monks. Yeah, there's nothing more interesting than the fulfilling life of a Franciscan monk. And the sex! Unbelievable! What the fuck are these T.V. producers thinking? How far is it gonna go? If we're talking fucked up reality show ideas, I have one that might appeal to the wide masses.
It's a reality show based on a blind date, but with a twist. We need some adopted guys and an extensive background check. Then we set up the adopted guy on a blind date with his estranged biological mother. Viewers can then place bets on whether or not they're going to sleep together.
We provide them with a nice, romantic dinner with lots of alcohol and let nature take its course. Then the next day, the show host pulls the guy aside and has a little chat with him.
"Bill, what if we told you that we found your birth mother?"

"Are you serious? Wow, that would be so wonderful! Finding my mom and getting laid in the same night, what are the odds of that?"

"I'd say they were pretty good, Bill. We've found video of your birth. Look...awwww....there's little Bill coming out. Notice the birthmark above the right eye, just like the one you have?"

"Yeah, wow, I guess that is me. How weird."

"Notice the woman in labor...Recognize her from anywhere?"

"Hey, that's the chick I banged last night!"

"We also have video from last night. What a coincidence. There's little Bill coming out again...and going back in...and coming out...and going back in. Recognize that vagina, Bill? Well you should, because 25 years ago, you came out of it. That's right Bill, YOU JUST FUCKED YOUR MOM! *Crowd applause* (Bill is vomiting profusely through his fingers)
"On the bright side, Bill, you found your mom. On the other hand, she's a real dirty whore, as we see here if we fast forward the video. Whoaaa Bill, your mom can sure handle a mouthful! What a trooper she is! "
"Well folks, that's all for today's episode of YOU JUST FUCKED YOUR MOM! Tune in next week for more hilarious reunions between mothers and sons! Until then, this is Bob Barker saying: "Watch Where You Stick Your Penis, Because You Never Know When It Might Be Your Mom! Goodnight everybody!"

I am submitting this idea to Fox Television. I think they will go for it. I mean, they are the bright minds behind "When Animals Attack People Who Are Stupid Enough To Fuck With Them."

I'm back baby! And better than ever...

As promised, here is a LONG recap of my three week vacation.
"So Lara, where the hell DID you go anyway? We've never heard of Swissland or whatever you call it"...you say.
So here are a couple of views:
From the castle in Saxon

From my friend Xavier's backyard:

On our first day there, my brother took us to the annual "comptoir" in Martigny, a big festival of sorts that goes on for a week and is just an excuse for 90% of the population to get severely plastered. I'm talking big time drinking, the sort of drinking that leaves you in a coma the next morning and makes you completely irritating to your sober friends. Hung out at the comptoir for 4 hours, the kids went on all the rides, David and Dave (my bro) drank wine, I ate some roasted chestnuts and Devyn got to ride a horse:

The next day, David and Devyn both rode a horse, just a smaller one this time:

I think I already mentioned going to a bar and David getting hit on by a midget, the only thing I forgot to mention is that said midget was a guy. David had made fun of him all night, saying he was so little he must have been a jockey, then the guy comes over and doesn't leave him alone for a good half hour. We finally had to leave the bar, while the midget screamed "U.S.A. #1!!!!" It was completely surreal...
Did I mention we went to a lot of bars? I did? Well, here is further proof. Found ourselves at the "Britannia Pub" in Martigny one afternoon, and the Daves decided to order a Guinness just to wet their palate. And from the size of the beer they got, it really was just to wet it... Talk about beer shots: this beer costs $5!!!!

On Friday the 13th, we had a birthday party for Devyn (he actually turned 3 yesterday) and a Mexican food party for a few of my brother's friends. The birthday party was insane: 10 kids under the age of 6, running around wearing Batman masks and beating the shit out of each other. You know, typical day at the Liso's Swiss compound. We also took advantage of the party to celebrate Matteo's first birthday (Dave's son). Here is a picture of the two birthday boys:

And you wanna know what Mexican food looks like when cooked by an Italian and an American in Switzerland, for a bunch of Germans? Try not to lick the screen:

Just for shits and giggles, here is a photo of my nonna frying donuts for the party: (yeah, the same nonna I saw completely naked a few days later)

It wasn't all fun and games on my trip... I had the pleasure and honor of getting a personal violin lesson from an old friend I've known since I was 12 years old, who is now an unbelievable musician. I'm not kidding, this guy plays every instrument that exists, composes amazing music, produces and even manages to be a great singer. This is the kind of guy I would beat the shit out of if he weren't my friend. I am positively jealous of his talent. And on top of his talent, he's pretty easy on the eyes...

If you have ITunes, you can hear his accomplishments with Glen of Guinness and Charlotte Parfois.
So, back to my violin lesson. I thought it would be a piece of cake, seeing how I play guitar and I am somewhat musically inclined, but... I sucked. Hard. I have never laughed so much in my life, with Xavier yelling "Quatre!" (Fourth) every few seconds to remind me to use my pinky on the strings. I got so nervous and tensed up so much, the next day I couldn't turn my head to the left and now, a week later, my neck and back are still sore. I am such a pussy it's unbelievable. Of all the instruments I've ever tried, violin is definitely the hardest to tackle. It does make me want to try again, though.
After our hour long violin lesson, we met my brother and some friends for a well-deserved tomato and cheese fondue, served on a bed of steamed potatoes. Yummy. I got just A LITTLE drunk, what with my 3 glasses of white wine, half a beer, two sips of grappa and to top it all off, a nice glass of absinthe. Yeah, I said absinthe. You know, the stuff that was forbidden for the last 80 years or so...If you've seen "Moulin Rouge", you know that's what Toulouse Lautrec used to drink to find inspiration. From what I hear, drinking too much absinthe will cause grand hallucinations and severe explosive diarrhea the next day. From what I hear. I only had one glass, but check out the contraption they serve it in:

It's really cool, right? Just a little embarrassing when the waitress brought it to our table, I felt like I was prepping to perform surgery.. What did it taste like, you ask? LIKE LIQUID CANDY! So good, like anise and licorice, with a hint of bitterness... Just heavenly! I bought a bottle to bring back last year and never opened it, but I have the feeling it will get emptied pretty fast now...
So that's it for my Swiss vacation. I already miss my mom and my brother terribly, luckily my mom and dad are coming here for Christmas, so not too long before we are reunited again.
Back soon with some more disturbing posts!