Debra Anastasia's Blog, page 64

My stupididty is my super power.

So I'm sending out blogger request to review Poughkeepsie and I put a little bit of research into each one. I check out their about me pages if I don't already know them and make a few personal comments before slapping down the request. Doesn't that sound clever? Almost smart? But have no fear, I managed to screw it up. The first one I send out is to a spicy set of bloggers who use the phrase "sucking donkey balls" in the review policy.


So of course, I title the email Donkey Balls and then proceed to request the review trying to be being cheeky (with my ass that's easy) and funny (I hope.)


Then I proceed down the list of bloggers that I had to request for at least an hour, using the body of the first message for the info that n
ever changes (summary, trailer, etc). 

BUT I NEVER CHANGED THE TITLE!!!!!


I have no idea how many bloggers I requested from because I'm afraid to look. Please someone confiscate my keyboard, I do not deserve this beautiful thing.
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Disney Trip Report (flashback)

My kids are older now, but I wanted to have this up where I wasn't banned. (Shh, tits a long story)




The cast of characters: Mr. Anastasia, My husband of 13 years. He gets along with everyone, is very quick witted and thank God, dumb enough to marry me.


Me, Debra Anastasia. I am a Stay at home Mom. It is the best job I have ever suckered anyone into giving me. I do not feel like I have done anything spectacular enough to deserve my amazing, endlessly beautiful kids.


Boychild (BC)...11 ahhh, how do you describe this one? My son is the kindest boy on the planet. The beauty of his soul is achingly apparent in his sweet eyes. He loves cars, laughing and swimming.


Girlchild (GC)...8  A ball of energy with a quiet side that speaks to animals. She has intuition that is flawless. She will tell you when you are sad and hug you into a smile. On this visit she curled up in my 88 year old grandfather's lap and sang to him for what seemed like sweet hours.


Our set up is fantastic. My parents have worked for Disney for 7 years. We have a meager salary but we can roll like Kings in Disney due to all the freeness and discountness we tend to encounter. So we fit in with your coupon clippers and the Ritchie Richersons that have a 40 day visits in the Wilderness Lodge. You can all read this report.


So a little pre trip…


This trip to Disney is fitted in between a visit to my Grandfather and parents. We travel about 16 hours to get to Florida. This is a sneaky peaky visit. Snuck in there. No big planning. No succumbing to the craziness. No pupils turned into hidden Mickies. No prepping the kids for months before hand by coloring Disney pictures, playing the Disney Radio station, making the Disney paper chain and singing the "Oh Disney World song" (to the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree") every time we take off a link. I am scaring myself here. Has it gotten this bad? Oh yes, it has.


So back to leaving... Mr. A is working, putting our departure time at around 3:00pm. I have picked up BC early from school and prepped the house for the dog sitter. The dogs looked worried. My very smart dog, Snowy is trying to stuff herself in the very clean van. Did I tell you my clean van story yet? Let me throw that in here…it is a fun one…


 Debra Anastasia goes to the car wash


like the blonde that she is. Due to the layout I had a nice big audience of gentlemen that work in the professional car wash. Lucky me. I pull up and pay, and then I remembered to pull off my antenna Mickey ears and Walt Disney World magnet, so I jump out while the machine is screaming "Pull up to the car wash" over and over. I run back around the van and hop in, pull in and Yup, you guessed it forgot to put my window up from paying. The super powerful faceful of water reminded me to press the up button for the window. Power windows are realllllly slow. My audience of men were Whatever, I got my money, plugged the quarters into the vacuum and get started vacuuming 6 weeks of crap and crumbs out of my giant van. I am very competitive. I want to win. I want to beat the vacuum at it's own game. I will make every spidery quarter worth it. So I am running around inside the van, vacuuming my butt off. Just at the very end, I jump out to do the mats and in my frenzy, and an ill chosen low cut t-shirt, my boob pops out. To all the boys working in the car wash, you are welcome when they saw how wet I was. But water and humiliation can't keep me down, so I drive over to the vacuum. I get out, shake off, pull out the mats, wave to my fans, and take my only cash, one dollar, over to the change maker. Four quarters and a big hairy spider plop out. So now I have to get the quarters away from the spider, who would like to keep them for himself. I hate spiders. I hate greedy spiders even more. So I am screaming, jumping and getting my freaking quarters. Now the boys are just watching the show






So my van is clean and Mr. A has repacked the van to his liking and we are off… Any of you that have been to Disney in the spring might predict what happened next to the ill-planned Anastasias ...It involves punching, flicking and a Dunkin Donuts that was obviously hosting a casting call for a Quentin Tarantino movie…




So my van is clean and Mr. A has repacked it to his liking and we are off. Any of you that have been to Disney in the spring might see what happened next to the ill planned Anastasia. It involves punching, flicking and a Dunkin' Donuts that was obviously hosting a casting call for a scary movie....


We leave our happy house. This time there were no lists, no carefully packed hand-painted outfits for the kids, no Tinkerbell gifts hidden in the Stow n' Go compartments. But we are not sad, this is a cheat visit. We have it in perspective. WE ARE FINE!!! I am pretty sure we will be able to control the tremors when we start to see Disney signs on the way to my Grandfather's house . In case we start experiencing withdrawal symptoms, I have wisely packed Slim Jims, sunflower seeds, and chocolate . When used together these foods can ease the effect of the Disney signs on your psyche. Of course your punishment for the cure is the gas you pass that smells like burning bologna and cigars . You have to take the good with the bad in life.


Where was I?


Oh right, we are "on the road" Mr. A and I disagree as to when "on the road" starts. I think it starts when you close the door to your van. He feels you must be at least 60 miles onto a main road that is heading in the direction of Florida . If there is a bathroom break, a quick stop in Wal-mart for zip lock bags etc, we become "off the road" and must start over again to try and be "on the road."


Anyhooo, We are planning to put about 6 hours in "on the road" before settling into a comfy hotel with our green or red book coupon. Like always. When we go in August. April is not August. The Anastasias are about to learn the difference.


We go our allotted amount and pull off the road in North Carolina. The clueless Anastasias stare wide eyed at the very full parking lots in the Hotels. "Hmm, busy tonight" I say with a smile. Mr. A knows our fate before I do. In our 9 ½ years of marriage he has learned to try to stay optimistic. Sometimes his wife can move mountains. He's a lucky man. I do the John Wayne walk of cramped legs up to the Country Inn and Suites.


 The Anastasias think they would love it here. I walk up to the receptionist.


"Do you have any vacancies?"


The sleepy not-so-friendly lady says, "All we have is a Smoking handicapped room with one king bed left."


 Well Mrs. Anastasia up her nose and thinks, My children won't sleep in a smoking room.


" No, thank you." And off I go.


Had I only known.


The receptionist should have lunged over her desk and grabbed me by the shirt screaming, "YOU FOOL!! There will be no rooms anywhere on I-95!!! ALL THE WAY TO YOUR GRANDPA'S!! By the time you and that poor man that married you get done driving tomorrow you'll wish not only that you took the room, you clean air snob, but you will have gratefully taken the room even if it had an actual handicapped man in the king bed with you smoking cigarettes with every hole in his body and a couple of your own holes too ."


But she was quiet. And I was righteous and unknowing. So it starts…The ride that never ends.


Mr. A and I have been awake and working our butts off all day Friday.


It is now 10:00pm. We will be "on the road" (either version) until 8:00am the following day. Our beautiful kids have become cranky and sleepy. They begin their fitful descent into dream world. Mr. A and I begin our dance of delusion. We will stop every once in a while to get the coupon books for the state we are in. I call hotels and be told "no vacancy" over and over.


But we hang onto the hope until the end. We're hopers . During the trip we dip into "The Cure".


We know we will be punished, but we snap into a Slim Jim. When it's time for another dose of "The Cure," I have to crawl to the back of our van for the supplies. This sounds easy, and even looks like it might be easy. Then you get up and walk Alice in Wonderland style all crunched up . Mr. A will then speed up, change lanes, and break quickly. I think he does this to amuse himself. Nothing funnier then throwing the wife around inside the van. Passive aggressive is what I call it.


During this trip report there will be Flashbacks to The Anastasia in prior years…To keep it from getting confusing they will start like so…


****Flashback*****


Not having a flash now, just setting it up for later.


There are two things I do not like on the way down I-95 (if you don't count the tailgating crazies jumping from lane to lane ~ though maybe the wife is going for supplies )


The first is the "Adult signs" in Georgia.
Really Georgia, lets clean up our act a little . You do know that this is the road we all use to get to Disney. Maybe you could advertise peaches or something else a little less perplexing to kids. What should I say to my kids when we pass those? So far, when they asked about it on the way up I explained that the "WE BARE ALL" sign really said "Webareall" which is much like a weeble.


The second is "South of the Border". Well, I have a love / hate relationship with Pedro. He is really all talk. I do like to watch the signs go by. On the way down to Florida, passing South of the Border feels great! Look at that horrible excuse of a theme park! On the way back you almost want to stop, see if you can suck any fun out of the measly place. And I have never seen that roller coaster moving. Ever.


Of course this visit, we pass it all in the dark. We plod through North Carolina, South Carolina (thanks for dividing those Carolinas up) Georgia and as the sun is coming up, Florida. About an hour before sunrise, Mr. A is looking droopy. Real droopy . Mrs. A has stopped being entertaining about an hour ago. The best thing I can think of to keep him awake is punching him and flicking the back of his neck. He takes the pain because he knows he must stay awake to drive. We did quote the vacation movie a few times, "Turn off the T.V. Clark and come to bed"


Finally, we arrive. A whole day early.


What to do? I, of course, make a reservation in a hotel in my Grandpa's town. I make reservations all the time now. Even if we are not traveling, just to be sure. We arrive at 8:00am. I beg for an early check-in. They can give us a room at 10:00am. We have two hours to kill. We are numb, the kids are disorientated. So we head to the Dunkin' Donuts. Just what "The Cure" needs. Donuts. We stagger into the craziest Dunkin Donuts I have ever seen. It is smashed inside a gas station and a gift shop that carries alligator heads and glass figurines. The line for the Donuts is almost out the door. Everyone is staring at us, not sure why.


Maybe it's the scary red eyes, maybe because I ripped my uncomfortable bra off in South Carolina (Easier to get "the Cure" down if you don't wear a bra.) The stains on my clothes, or maybe the fact that Quentin had not invited us to this casting call.


You have got the Mom beating her kid in the corner, the leathery-tan Floridian construction worker taking up the biggest table all by himself sneering at everyone, the six couples of old people getting there morning Donut on. The employees are fantastic at looking busy and doing nothing. The donuts get stacked, icing on icing and dropped into a bag. All breads are burned black. We eat our breakfast in the surreal setting. Then drive over to Burger King. They thankfully have a play set for the kids to run around on until our room opens up.


We did it. Mr. A and I. We never want to do it again.


Next up, interviews, food poisoning, my cockroach friend and riding the Maddahorn in Disney World (didn't think there was a Maddahorn in Disney World?? There is!!)






    

Poop stories

My small sized poodle is 90% house trained. So I had a great idea and bought him reusable training diapers, but the dog ones were really expensive so I got a nice three pack at Wal-Mart. I was really proud of myself because I saved money and used a scissor to cut a hole for his little stump tail. It worked like a charm because he never went in the diaper. So well that even the husband was on board with putting the diaper on and off the dog's crazy ass for trips outside, where he did his business (the dog). We had like 3 weeks of normal (Well as normal as having a dog in a diaper can be) and one thing the husband said more than once was, "This is fine but I'm never ever changing that diaper if it gets dirty." I laughed. It was working so well, I just had to wash one fairly clean diaper a day, nicey nice.

Then I had an event to go to that was really ritzy, got all dressed up, make up done, fake lashes, the whole deal. I got in the car and took off about 2 miles down the road my husband calls the cell.
"Your God damn dog s&%t his diaper!"

I had to pull over because I was laughing so hard. There was no way I could come home to deal with it, so it was on him. I found out later he took the poodle out back and hosed the poop off of him. I had to pull over because I was laughing so hard. There was no way I could come home to deal with it, so it was on him. I found out later he took the poodle out back and hosed the poop off of him.

Recently, if you're like me you get too many animals and they poop places. Right now we live in an apartment where you pick the poo up. So I have three dogs. To quote Edward I say to poop, "You are my life now." The best is that I have to count off the nugglets so I know how many to pick up. And one of my dogs likes to walk and poop so it is like a horrible, horrible Easter egg hunt with a $250 fine if you fail to find the "egg"

And lots of bags (which I feel bad about, but I have to use the bags) and now besides counting, watching. etc. I grumble about turds not being "bag worthy"

Holy Sheet

NO LUMP!

Just bruising from a stupid bra. I will be getting my first mammogram for a baseline and apparently my boobs are dense. Just like my head. Thank you all fro your kind words, you all keep me as sane as possible. Love you.

Blake's Cardboard Piano

This is Blake's cardboard piano. He lent it to me when I visited the Poughkeepsie station. I still have it in my possession because he wanted the readers to sign it, show it some love. I should have a better plan of how it will be passed around. For now, we will do sign ups. Comment below and join this blog if you haven't yet.


 In the comments leave a valid email address. (You might want to space it long hand out like: Debra (dot) Anastasia (at) gmail (dot) com if you don't want it lifted by spambots.)


 By commenting you are agreeing to disclose your mailing address to the person before you and receive the next person's address. If this doesn't sound right for you, please refrain from signing up. You must mail the piano on in a timely fashion.


 It might need to go International! If you have someone out of your country and would rather mail it back to me to forward on, we can do that.


 Did I forget anything? Oh, yeah. And take a picture of it and upload it here. (Doesn't have to be of you. Maybe a local landmark?)




First come first serve, no guarantee that you will receive the piano if you sign up, gosh forbid we lose it in the mail or what-not.


Thanks to my Twitter peeps for egging me on. Blake loves you guys.

Boobs

Blah. I know they've been useful, and I've fed two infants with them, but today they're making me worry a bit.


 The other day I felt what I thought was a bruise under my breast sort of on the top of my rib cage. After closer inspection, there was no discoloring mark. So I did an exam and found an inflamedish seeming place. The other breast has a matching situation going on. So I keep checking, and keep finding after I prod around I experience pain.


 So, of course, I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. I've been wearing a bra style that I hate that I got on sale, so I'm thinking it's the under wire that has bruised me. I mean, two breasts at the same time in the same place, it would be weird for it to be cancer. I had my blood work done recently at my annual appointment, and everything was fine.


The funny thing is that if my stupid bra has given me this concern, how freaking ridiculous? My mother pointed out that only we women would be crazy enough to wrap wires around our soft parts to make them more alluring.


She's right. Then she went on to say, "You'd never hear I guy say 'Oh man my ball wires are killing me today.' And then keep on wearing underwire underwear."


 And that's true. Men just let it dangle. If for some reason they want to pad things up, what do they do? Stuff a soft sock down there. Not a cactus.


 Stupid fashion choices. I'll let you all know how tit goes. (hehe) I'm 37 so I'm wondering if my first mammogram won't be in the cards. Though, my situation is by my ribs and I can't imagine how they would get a picture of that in the smooshy table.


 Any advice from my fellow boob havers? And plus, here's my other author friends' linked below. Bounce bounce. (But gently for me today)

-Love of Books-: Poughkeepsie: Excerpt & Giveaway

-Love of Books-: Poughkeepsie: Excerpt & Giveaway: Hello, book lovers! I have something for you... want to know what it is? Okay. Debra Anastasia , the author of Poughkeepsie , is sharing ...

The Poughkeepsie Cover Tattoo Artist

The very favorite part of my Poughkeepsie cover is the tattoo on Blake's arm in the picture. It was created by an insanely talented artist, Shannon Lumetta. We also happen to be super close friends. Like I would fart in front of her. A lot.


I begged her for an interview and she let me have it ;) Now I'm sharing it with you!




http://shalumetta.com/





Debra: So, you designed the tattoo on Blake's arm, I've heard many times that it is elegant and haunting. What was your process in creating it?

Shannon: Oh, thank you so much. Honestly, I still feel like it's a little rough around the edges, and an actual tattoo artist could probably do wonders with it. 
So, explaining my creative process is kinda like trying to understand the existence of Justin Bieber: futile and hopelessly depressing. Okay, maybe not that bad. For the tatt, you'd already given me the content, so I Google Image searched the elements for visual inspiration and then went to town in Illustrator.  

Debra: I'm trying to get up the guts to actually get the tattoo, do you have any? Can you tell the class what they mean to you?

Shannon: I think I'd like to get the tatt, too, but I'm not sure where I'd put it yet.
I do have tatts; four, but technically one is a coverup, so I've been on the table five times. ;) And yeah, I totally want MORE.
The first tattoo I got was an ugly butterfly on my hip by an artist that was obviously an apprentice (I knew how to make great decisions in college! "Hey, Shalu, I'm going to get a tattoo. Wanna go?" "No money." "I'll pay." "OK."). It ended up looking like a bruised molar. Good times. Now, that is covered up by a swirl of waves (inspired by Hokusai's The Great Wave, which is a favorite of mine)(see above). I also felt like water is fluid, as is almost anything else in life, so you'd better learn to go with the flow. Life stops for no one, so get moving or get out of the way, right? I know, I'm so profound. I want to continue that tattoo across my back eventually. Maybe for my 70th birthday, I can afford it. 

Debra: What are you working on now? Writing? Art? Both?

Shannon: I'm still trying to complete a couple of fanfic stories so that I could focus more on my novel that is languishing in edits. Plus, I have another book idea that needs the room to flourish. Yeah, there ain't enough time in the day.
If life were kinder, or fair, I'd have the opportunity to get back to a little photography. The old-school kind (with FILM!). I have a Minolta SLR that's a little older than I am (borrowed from my aunt) that I'd really like to take oot & aboot one day, just shooting whatever strikes. Someday.

I know you are extremely creative and talented, what kind of services do you offer the world? 

Sarcasm. And general awesomeness. LOL. I also give great massages. Happy endings cost more than you can afford. 

Can you show us some of your favorite pieces of art you have created (pictures, etc.) 

I have a couple, I suppose, but one of my favorites was kind of an accident. It's not incredible by any means, but it was a self-portrait from my first photography class, using a pinhole camera. I called it "Don't Scream" eventually, but ... well, it is what it is. :)
I'm also really proud of the would-be Poughkeepsie cover I created. (Before I was picked up by my publisher, I went to Shannon for a cover, after I was signed, their cover artists created the current Poughkeepsie cover using Shannon's artwork, just wanted to put her cover here fro anyone that was looking for an artist, to see her work)

Tell me your favorite movie, song, color, amusement park ride and snack food.

Movie: I love movies. So many. It's beyond impossible to pick one. Random "I could watch this a million times and still not be sick of it" flick: Scary Movie. Random artsy-ish flick I think is brilliant: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Song: I live in music. It can be the reason for my mood. So to have one favorite? Asinine. Radiohead is my favorite band, though — 90% of their catalog is my favorite. One fave: "Talk Show Host." (P.S. Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood: geniuses).

Amusement park ride: The Raptor (Cedar Point, Sandusky, OH). Also, that super-slow chair that takes you up & down stairs if you have trouble? Stair lifts, Google tells me their called. I swear I'm getting one of those should I have a house with stairs one day. My great-grandparents' house had one & I remember thinking it was the best thing ever. I'm lazy enough that I would use it when I'm just tired or bored or want some time to read a book. Forget elevators and escalators.






Snack food: A heaping spoonful of peanut butter with a little pool of Hershey's chocolate sauce in it. Seriously, I hollow it out with my tongue (I know, talent) and fill it with the Hersheys. Best. Thing. Ever.

So I know what you're thinking, "Can I get me some Shannon genius?" Well you are in luck because here is a link to her web page:
 www.Shalumetta.com
If you need a cover or art, she's you're girl. and thanks Shannon, you know I'm a huge fan of yours. 
XO ~Debra

For A Good Time

2011. I could say it sucked a set of hairy, sweaty, dingly balls. I won't. Because the year you get is better than no year at all. I'd never be stupid enough to take the time I get for granted.
There were obstacles, but in the end we're here. I've been thinking about my grandfather today, and what he'd tell me if I was lucky enough to have him on the end of the phone instead of the end of a prayer.
We were friends, he and I. I adore him still. He was such a huge presence in any room. He liked his music loud, his drinks on the rocks, and his laughter loud. When I was little, we'd go to his house for a visit and he'd crank patriotic parade music -like so freaking loud. He would pull down the American flag from the front by the door and hand it to my sister or I and we would parade. He would call out commands in his super loud Sergeant from WW II voice and every damn person there would join in. We'd go outside, around the driveway, wherever we wanted.
As a little kid I thought it was just a fun way to start the party. Now, looking back, I know what it was. My grandfather had a handsome brother who also served in WWII as a pilot. My great uncle lost his life in the last days of the war. But my grandfather, being who he was, celebrated what his brother had protected. My grandfather wanted us to be proud, have a great day, because his family had earned it for us.
Going to a restaurant with my grandfather was hilarious. He knew the waitresses and often wolf-whistled when he wanted their attention. You'd think it would be obnoxious, but it wasn't. The way he did it just made them laugh.
In his eighties I would get a call and we would chat. He never let the conversation go on too long and I never heard him complain of any ailments. But what he said? Always worth hearing, remembering. One of his favorite pieces of advice was, "If you're not having a good time it's your own goddamn fault."
I just love that. No matter what life has handed me, I've fallen back on this, eventually. Once everyone was safe and things that needed to be done were done, then it was time to take stock and have a good damn time.
I could write a book about him.  And there's times that I think I will. It's what I do now and I've yet to create or imagine a character quite as spectacular as he actually was. 
So I know that if I follow his lead, which I always hope I have the guts to do, I won't try and piss on 2011 as it heads out the door.  I'll hand it a flag and turn the fucking music up really, really loud.