Why did that enormous shriek/laugh erupt out of you at 4 Days and how can we reproduce it?
That, my friend, was a true blue Heidi Garvin laugh. I try to hold it back and keep my laughter under control as much as possible, because, hi, it sounds RIDICULOUS and makes everyone within a 20 foot radius turn and stare. But sometimes, usually during some type of live comedy performance, something will be said/done that is just the right combination of funny/relevance to my life/unexpectedness that my squawky laughter bursts from me before I can control myself. I guess that must have happened at 4 Days. I don’t even remember whose story I was laughing at. And oh my word, why on earth would you ever want to hear that sound again?
“Look out how you use proud words.
When you let proud words go, it is not easy to call them back.
They wear long boots, hard boots; they walk off proud; they can’t hear you calling—.
Look out how you use proud words”—Carl Sandburg, Primer Lesson
Summertime in the Garvin household always meant one solid week away from the California Central Valley at a place near the beach or in the mountains. Preferably where we had a relative or family friend to stay with. Because, much like money, vacations don’t grow on trees. BUT IMAGINE IF THEY DID.
One particular summer, we were staying with my Very Generous Aunt in the Southern California area. She was so generous that not only did she put us up in her home near the beach for a whole week that summer, but did so during many other summers. Very often she would take the whole Garvin family to a theme park, as well. This year our destination was Universal Studios, Hollywood. Jurassic Park: The Ride was either brand new, or new to us Garvins who had not been in several years, if ever.
What happens on Jurassic Park: The Ride, you might be wondering? Well, it is much like Splash Mountain, only it is longer, taller, newer, and more dinosaury. The part that had my mother preparing herself for potential tragedy was simply this: the potential to get wet.
My mother does not like to get wet on theme park rides. But, then again, who would want to go around half the day with their wet underwear sticking to them and they finely coiffed hairdo in utter ruin? YOUR KIDS ON THE BRINK OF/IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND YOUR HUSBAND, MOM. THAT’S WHO.
Her solution to the potential wetness was to bring several trash bags that she has cut armholes in to thereby turn them into ponchos and a shower cap. She forced the rest of us to don these trash bag ponchos along with her while we waited in line. The shower cap was just for her. (Yes, we are still in therapy after having to endure the stares of the entire line/theme park as they watched us put on garbage bags as protective outer wear in public.)
Two things resulted from our Jurassic Park: The Ride experience.
We got the best family vacation souvenir photo you can imagine.
My mom’s hair got VERY WET.
You see, what my mother failed to take into account, as she boasted about how dry and comfy she would be after the ride, while looking like a crazy lady in line, was the effect an 85 foot drop at a 51 degree angle would have on a shower cap. Of course, it blew it straight off her head, but not before the ride’s camera snapped a picture of it puffed up with air, just about to take off. My mother’s expression is that of a woman who is terrified of getting wet. Priceless.
And of course, as luck, karmic retribution, or the gods of Jurassic Park: The Ride would have it, a large swell of water dumped right onto my poor mother’s head, ruining her finely coiffed hairdo she had spent an hour on that morning.
At least she put up a good fight. And she didn’t get her panties wet.
Restaurant Xochimilco opens in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico
Burritos appear on menu at El Tepeyac in East Los Angeles. They are served on plates and offered smothered (with sauce)
Looks like you all have Los Angeles to thank for your burrito experiences. You are welcome.
Fact: I love El Cholo. Original location FOR LIFE! Half-off entrees Mon-Thurs with a USC Student ID was such a blessing. They have the best guacamole, made fresh at your table. If I ever get married, I want El Cholo guacamole served at my wedding reception, but only because it is illegal for it to be the groom.
Her new gallery just opened up in Bakersfield, CA (our place of origin), a little less than two hours from Los Angeles. Coming up in June, the gallery is displaying a juried group exhibit, featuring pieces that reflect fashion and/or the world of fashion.
What this means for you: send her your art (as a jpeg email attachment, CD, or a physical photograph)! It can be a painting, drawing, photograph, sculpture, you name it. I’m thinking of asking her if performance art counts and submitting myself in an amazing dress as an entry. Ok, not really.
There’s a $10 entry fee, a $100 award winner, and the opportunity for your art to be displayed in the gallery as part of the exhibit through August - which of course means the potential that your art will be purchased by someone who attends the opening reception or visits the gallery.
Entry details and rules here or on her website. You can also email email@example.com if you are interested or have questions.
Dear Heidi Garvin,
It has been a week since the last installment of "Mom vs. (hilarious thing.)" We, the Internet Community, would please like a new one please.
Sadly, “Mom vs. (hilarious thing)” posts have been some of my all time least “liked” posts here on tumblr. But my non-tumblr friends and family loved them, and since you did, too, I promise there will be more soon. And the rest of the internet can just suck it up and DEAL.
I cannot sleep if I am hungry at all. Can’t do it. Have to have a full tummy to catch my zzzzs. I know, I know, metabolism and digestion and don’t eat before bed blah blah blah. WHATEVER. I’ve tried not eating two hours before bed. It was not a pleasant experience.
Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I get the munchies and I crave carbs and sweets. A handful of chips, some Crunch’N’Much, or maybe some Cheez-its or something else equally delicious. Recently, I had one of this insatiable cravings for something to much on in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, I had nothing in my apartment that would satisfy that desire.
So you know what I did?
I ate berry/peach/orange flavored gummi mult-vitamins.
And some handfuls of generic brand Raisin Bran Crunch, dry, straight out of the box.
You want to be popular? You want your phone/twitter/internet social networking sites to BLOW UP? Tweet about a Chick-Fil-A that’s coming soon.
Evidence of Chick-Fil-A spotted here. Photo (and important information) courtesy of Jonathan K. The real hero.
(Note: It’s not listed on their website as a restaurant opening soon, but that list on their site admits to be subject to change. I BELIEVE IT IS COMING. I BELIEVE THE FUTURE IS HERE! Now stop calling me about it. This is all I know.)
When I first moved to the USC area to be a little freshman there, there was McDonald’s, Burger King, Carl’s Jr, Wendy’s, Subway, Quizno’s, Togo’s, Taco Bell, Panda Express, and other wonderful quick eateries that were not chains (Chano’s!). (There were of course also on campus eateries including Starbucks, Jamba Juice, Wolfgang Puck’s, Wahoo’s, etc.) When I moved out of the area a year or so ago there had been a Chipotle, a second Quizno’s, and probably something I’m now forgetting added to the fray. Since I’ve been gone they’ve gotten a 21 Choices and are now getting a CHICK-FIL-A! If they added an In-N-Out and Arby’s, the area would have all you need in life.
The point is this: there are two points. One: that’s a lot of fast food in one area. Two: CHICK-FIL-A, you guys!!!!
Fun fact: word on the street (and by street, I mean those walkways on campus that have names and street signs) was that the Carl’s Jr in the old Commons that has now been torn down was the busiest/most profitable Carl’s Jr IN THE NATION. And you know what? I believe it.
Sometimes when facebook shows me a person I should add as a friend who I either dislike or am terrified by or both, I will hit “refresh” repeatedly until they disappear, while saying, “Internet why do you hate me?!?!”
Recently, I took some photos of Nephew Garvin. He saw the camera in my hand and crawled over to have a looksie at it. I scooped him into my lap and let him hold it, but stopped him from putting it in his mouth (where everything goes these days). I flipped it over to show him the picture of himself on the display screen. The nine month old little dude put his pointer finger in the middle of the screen, and dragged it across it to the right. He then repeated this action. You know why? BECAUSE THE NINE MONTH OLD BABY WAS TRYING TO SEE THE NEXT PHOTO. Because his daddy has an iPhone and that’s how Nephew Garvin scrolls through the photos of himself on that. My mind = blown. Also, I think I found a new target demographic for the iPad.
My mom bought the game Guesstures one Christmas and put it under the tree with the tag “To: The Garvin Family, From: Santa.” We played it once. I’m pretty sure she made us.
When it was her turn to act out a clue, she lifted up her shirt and pointed to her bellybutton. Personally, I thought she was pointing to her recent scar from having her gallbladder removed. We guessed a lot of things: Gallbladder, scar, bellybutton, stomach….um….umbilical cord? Bellybutton ring?
We had no luck guessing what she was trying to act out by repeatedly pointing to her bellybutton, exposed by her raised shirt. You know what she was trying to act out? Do you?
Her rationale? They wear outfits that show their bellybutton.
I was a senior in high school. My boyfriend was over at the house visiting. My didn’t always understand that when people came over to the house to hang out with me, they were not also there to hang out with her. That was mostly ok though, since she is a lot of fun. Anyway, my boyfriend and I were playing Pictionary with my parents (there’s not a lot to do when you’re a broke high school senior in Clovis, CA). My dad drew a stick figure and a baseball. He then drew what I interpreted to be a baseball glove on the figure’s hand and a dotted line connecting the ball and the baseball glove, and pointed with the pencil to the glove. Well done, dad. Clearly, you have drawn a baseball glove. CLEARLY.
Did my mom guess baseball glove? No. Did she guess “person, ball, catch” and several other things? Yes. She was on the right track. Promising. Then, she shouted out, “Ooo, ooo, ooo! I KNOW!” and we all waited to hear her say “BASEBALL GLOVE!”
Instead, what followed her excited high-pitched squeals expressing her glee and triumph was this answer: “BIG HAND!”
She never did correctly guess baseball glove.
But we were all ok with that since her “BIG HAND” guess and my father’s immediate dejection were far more entertaining.
You guys, when I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday, she let me know that I left my camera at her (and my dad’s) house. The next sentence she uttered will melt your brain, if you’ve ever met my mother: “Now you can’t take Gratuitous Pictures of Yourself on Wednesdays!”
My jaw hit the floor. Because if my mom and the internet duked it out, the final score would be mom: 0, internet: 10 jillion. If I want to send my mom something via the internet, I send it to my dad, who tells her about it or shows it to her. SO HOW IS SHE READING MY TUMBLR? AND how has she picked up on tumblr lingo?? There is only one possible answer: My father shows it to her. (Which is pretty adorable. What a cute weekend activity for them to have: sitting and looking at their daughter’s tumblr together. Cute, cute people, my parents.)
So now that I know for 100 percent certain my mother is reading this, I can be one of two things: extra sweet (posting things I know she’d like) or slightly devious. And since I am ME, I’m choosing to be slightly devious.
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY EMBARRASSING STORIES I HAVE ABOUT MY MOTHER?
So, so many.
I’m only going to share one’s that are mildly embarrassing and full of humor, though. And only until she figures out how to reply via Disqus. Or maybe email. Or until she calls and scolds me. I’m kind of a pushover when it comes to my mother.
Oh, you guys. It’s hit me. Like a ton of bricks falling on my delicate, accident prone head. Or that pole you didn’t see as you were walking down the street because you were too busy talking to your friend. Or a well-aimed red rubber ball during a game of middle school gym class dodge ball. Or…well, you get the picture.
It has hit me that, sure, there are a lot of things that make me very different from my mother, but as I sit here, wearing this flower pot as a hat simply because I CAN, I am suddenly very aware that my kids will one day hate me for some of the same reasons I loathed my own mother at times: stuff like this. Stuff like wearing a flowerpot on one’s head for no good reason, or singing made up conversations to cats, or even, Heaven forbid, dancing in public.
Gracious me, but aren’t my kids just going to HATE me someday.
Wearing a t-shirt that someone gave my dad that is too small for him. Thinking about wearing it as a dress in the future. A dress that shows my lady bits when I move the wrong way. After having that realization, now thinking about wearing it with leggings in the future.
Have eaten three pieces of string cheese.
Excited to have internet access again after a 36 hour hiatus. (36 hours? That’s it??! It felt like forever. What is wrong with me? Oy.)
Watching a DVRed episode of Project Runway.
Now going to scavenge for more food. Will probably eat dry breakfast cereal and contemplate what that says about me as a person.
It was Christmastime and I had lots of money so I could buy lots of presents for the people I love. So that I could spend days wrapping them. I LOVE wrapping presents. Anyone hiring professional gift wrappers? I would totally be amazing at that job. No, seriously, I need the money. I always fold the ends of the paper under and place seams on the edges. I’m really good.