So I went to see Black Swan with The Rabbi last night.  It was okay.  I like the ballerina stuff and the costumes and makeup were gorgeous, and I’ve always secretly wanted a pair of toe shoes of my very own, so seeing those made me very happy, but the ending?


The Rabbi and I both burst out laughing at the last line because the ending was just so piss poor.  It was so stupid we couldn’t help ourselves.

I know we were supposed to be moved? Or something?

Now, granted, I had just consumed an El Presidente Margarita at Chili’s and she had a DIY Bourbon and chocolate ice cream milk shake (DIY means you order a plain drink and pour booze from your flask into it under the table, fyi) (I must get a flask) and so maybe we were feeling a little silly.

Or maybe the movie was a little cheesy and we didn’t understand what all the hype was about.

I like to think we are budding movie critics and I can see us like a drunken Siskel & Ebert sitting up there in the balcony passing judgment and flasks of bourbon.

That will be us.

PS: I drove her manual transmission car home because she made me do it and it was EASY, leading me to believe that Mister’s car is a dickhead.

People give you stuff!

It’s true!

Since I found out about my not not tumors, I have been showered with gifts (okay, only three, but three is still more than zero which is what I was getting before)!

Mister bought me an MP3 player which I have yet to figure out. As soon as I conquer driving his mean machine of a car, I’m totally going to figure that sucker out and then I’ll be cool like everybody else from 2005. It’s a really basic and cheap one called “Sansaclip.” Is that the stupidest name ever or what? It’s not sexy like an iPod or anything and it’s clear it’s not even trying to be. Seriously. They could have called it…”the cheapest MP3 player ever” and it would have been better. “Sansaclip.”

Bloody hell.

It’s almost as stupid as naming your blog “Crissy’s Page.”

Seriously though, I think I could have come up with a better name for it than “Sansaclip.” I would make a brilliant marketer because I know when somebody is giving something a totally fucked up name. Like, what about this dust rag I saw at Marshall’s the other day:


Your Monday eyes are not fooling you, Queefies. Someone has named a dust rag “FANNY.”

Maybe I’m not like most people, actually, we know I’m not, but I don’t like the idea of dusting my dining room table with a Fanny.

Marketing people, CALL ME!

And then my friend, The Other Kristin who is watching Homeslice at this very moment (holla!), brought me a bottle of wine with this card she made on it:



“so i totally stopped by walgreens and the bastards did not carry congrats on your 10 non cancerous tumors cards. i know… the nerve right? so i made one for you, but i suck at writing poetry, so this is it. this is all you get. no cute little limerick or rhyme or whatever, just a picture of what i think the inside of your head might look like.

oh and mike thinks you should name them. he is willing to help you out if you don’t know what to name them. he was thinking dopey, happy, sneezy, bashful, grumpy, sleepy, and doc. or that maybe you can name them after jon and kate’s kids.”

She said she wished I had been there to see the look on the guy’s face when she asked him to attach that card to the wrapped wine bottle. She said she was all “what? She’s not gonna die!”

And then The Melissa Lion knitted me this awesome kitty hat because I had found one on Etsy and I wanted it but it was too expensive, so she made me one!!!



Isn’t it a miracle???

How people like, knit things, is beyond me, but here it is, on my head and I can’t wait to wear it to work. I wear a hat and scarf all day at work because I get cold. I also drink hot water because there’s only so much tea you can drink and I can’t fathom putting anything cold in my body.

Does anybody else do that? Drink hot water or is that just a brain tumor thing?

Mister now has a request for Melissa. He would like her to knit him this hat:

Anyway, if you don’t have any brain tumors, I highly recommend getting some because people just start giving you stuff.

A few days ago, I got a friend request on Facebook from a stranger.  This is not a noteworthy event, I know, but check out his profile picture:

Um.  Yeah.  That kinda makes it noteworthy.

And his philosophy is:  Sex.

That’s it.


And all his “friends” are either young girls or pictures of lacy thongs.

He is so barking up the wrong tree with me it’s not even funny!  Think again, buddy!

Doesn’t he know he’s talking to a frigid 36 year-old librarian with a brain full of tumors and a constant period?  He’d probably be pretty interested in the lactation though.  That’s pretty awesome if you’re a sickie.

Anyway, it got interesting after I ignored the request and got a message from him that said:

Jim Anderson January 20 at 8:58am Report
hi will u add me ?
And I’m thinking, “shit. Now I have to deal with him.”  So I’m all,
Kristen Lynne Gilbert January 20 at 9:35am
Who are you, Jim? Tell me about yourself. I’m a little protective of my facebook as it is my personal account.
Jim Anderson January 20 at 10:20am Report
i am 38 years old 180 cm 77kg green eyes brown hair married actor i like sex very much and i’m not shy of saying that looking 4 sex adventures all over the globe coz i travel a lot
Oooooo SEX ADVENTURES!!!! I thought… ” GOODY!  I’ve been praying this day would come!”
And so I’m just like,
Kristen Lynne Gilbert January 20 at 11:42am
I have no sex adventures for you. How does your wife feel about your sex adventures?
And poor Jim was offended and he dumped me!
Jim Anderson January 20 at 12:31pm Report
no need for this moral lecture anyway my fetish is to have sex with decent ladies but like this u turned me off
Wow you guys.  I really fucked up.  I haven’t been dumped this hard since, well, you know.  I could have had SEX ADVENTURES but Jim only wants to have his sex adventures with “decent ladies” who have sex with random strangers  who friend them on Facebook and don’t care that he’s married.
I could have had Sex Adventures with an International Man of Mystery, but I’m not a decent enough lady.
I think I need to change my profile picture because maybe this one of my nursing boobies is attracting the wrong kind of friends or whatever.
Or, maybe I should keep it to see if I can catch me some more blog fodder.

We (I) are (am) officially looking to replace old Sasha Saab with a new (ish) one!  And in preparation for that, I have been practicing (okay, we went out for half an hour) driving a manual transmission because I will not let it beat me, people.

I will drive a manual transmission and it will be fine and I will DOMINATE THE ROAD.

And so I did it.  I drove the scary WRX up and down hills and I speeded all over and everything and all it took was a little Xanax to get me to stop panicking.  I only stalled like, three or four times which for me is a really big deal as every attempt I’ve made at this has been a total disaster.

You all remember this, right?


(if you haven’t seen that video, you really need to so you can appreciate fully the depths of my driving dysfunction)

But this time, with a little 0.5 mg of Xanax, I’m smiling and driving and having fun!

I am driving Mister’s car!  I’m doing it and I’m not panicking!

And the children are unafraid!

Homeslice was perfectly at ease with her Hello Kitty purse in her lap (which we take everywhere with us–“BAG? BAG? Eh! Eh! Eh!), and Girlfriend didn’t complain even once that “mommy is making it bumpy!”


She did have a few concerns when a lot of smoke filled the cabin after I stopped on (and tried to start up) a particularly steep hill. She complained that it “smells like dog shit.”  I’m very proud that my daughter has inherited my potty mouth. Maybe someday she’ll be a famous blogger just like her mother.

On second inspection of this picture though, it appears that she’s shamelessly trying to suffocate a horse in a plastic bag. Perhaps she’ll be a famous serial killer instead.

Only time will tell, Queefies.

So we haven’t bought anything yet, but we’re looking at one of these babies which I fully intend to plaster with hippy bourgeois bohemian bumper stickers about not eating animals and marriage equality and having abortions and stuff like that. It’s the only way I can drive a station wagon and live with myself. I have to embrace smug middle class hippyness because otherwise it’s just a station wagon and I’m admitting I’m a mother with a bunch of kids and a dog that’s too big to fit in something sassier and cuter and I’m not sexy anymore.

I think I want one in blue or silver though.  I will never own another black car.  They look like crap all the time.

So that’s the news.  We are officially looking for a car, meanwhile putting a car payment aside for a couple of months to make sure it’s comfortable for us and that I can continue to purchase food and heat and diapers with wild abandon like I’ve been doing.

In other words, I am very excited and I cannot wait to get into my new(ish) car and crank up the volume and drive the shit out of that thing all the way to Whole Foods!