it's a girl!

This just in: The Adorable Six-Year-Old Niece now has a younger sister and I now have one more excuse to be an obnoxious aunt. I can't wait to corrupt, er, I mean responsibly guide and nurture my new niece.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy her some of those onesies and baby tees emblazoned with Brooklyn references and cheeky sayings. I hope I can find something with skulls on it.

Update: Here she is...

I officially meet her on Saturday. It's bizarre to have a new niece and not "know" her yet. When the six-year-old niece was born, I was still living at home. When I got the call at work, I got on the earliest train possible and went right to the hospital. When my one-year-old nephew was born to my second oldest sister, her labor was induced so I had enough of a heads up to get on a NJ Transit bus and get to the maternity ward to pay a visit. This time, however, the baby arrived well over a week early and took everyone by surprise. I found out via a rather rambling voice mail left by my father at 7:00am...

"Uh yes, hello? Currrrrrrrrly? [Ed note: He's Scottish and as such, rolls his "Rs".] Just calling to tell you that [your sister] had anotherrrrrrr... girrrrrrrl. [Ed note: Not sure why he delayed saying "girl." He blew any chance at building suspense when he said "another" but I do appreciate the attempt.] She is 7 pounds... something ounces and, um, I don't know how long she is. [Ed note: Not exactly a wealth of information, that father of mine.] So, congrrrrrrrrrrrrrrratulations, auntie. Okay, rrrrrright, bye now. Bye bye."

My father has a deep, gruff voice and stands at a rather imposing 6'3" with a muscular build yet his patented phone sign-off has got to be the wussiest on record. He also turns into a complete puddle around his grandkids. And I love him for it.

Thanks for all the well wishes, everyone. Thank you on behalf of all of the McDimples.

Love,
Curly

i'm a reputable source, bitches

It's a proud day here at Ham & Cheese on Wry. This blog has made its way onto Wikipedia! Do I have my own entry? Well, no. Am I listed in the pantheon of great foul-mouthed lesbian bloggers? Again, no.

But I believe I have achieved an honor even greater than both of those combined... My blog has been cited in the John Tesh entry! Even better? It's under the "Criticism" heading! Even better than that? My link precedes the Rolling Stone and The New York Times citations. I'm second only to CNN.

As I damn well should be.

See, long before I began fixating on The Hoff, I amused myself by dropping the old shit hammer on the tow-headed maestro of new age cheese in a little exercise I like to call The Tesh Experiment. Sadly, it looks like the impetus for this experiment -- The Tesh Cam -- is now defunct but thanks to Wikipedia and the hard work of one Ms. Harriet McNamara, The Tesh Cam will live in infamy.

Further Reading:
:: The Tesh Experiment
:: The Tesh Experiment: An Update
:: The New-Age Cheese Diet

I knew it was only a matter of time before my blog was deemed educational!

God help us.

Update: I'm not so reputable after all! Someone disputed my citation as well as the rest. The entire "Criticism" heading has been removed. Oooh, controversy! That's hot.

Thanks for the heads up, Rob.

one mo' time

Okay, so I had a MySpace page a while back and in a fit of emotional and mental decluttering, I deleted the thing because I viewed it as nothing more than a time waster and yet another thing to feel guilty about. Also, I had about 200 friends on there and I didn't know most of them. See, when I first signed up, I found the "Accept/Deny" wording on the friend requests to be a bit harsh and I actually felt bad selecting the "Deny" option so I approved everyone and before long, I was linked to a bunch of shitty bands and shady pyramid schemes. I've since hardened my heart (and yes, swallowed my tears, Quarterflash fans) so I will deny any suspect friend requests that come my way.

I still view MySpace as a time waster and yet another thing to feel guilty about but whatever, in the interest of shared community, I'll cope somehow. And by shared community, I mean "shameless traffic grab."

Here's my updated page. If you'd like to befriend me, drop me a line. If you were a friend in my former MySpace life, kindly send me a request and I'll link you up once again... uh, provided you're not a shitty band or the brains behind a shady pyramid scheme.

And as a reminder, I'm also now on OurChart. Look me up under "curlymcdimple" if the link doesn't work for you. Thanks!

oh, i could write a sonnet...

Parents of young boys are faced with a very tough decision this Easter...

Click to enlarge

Do they go with the staid lavender get-up, the plaid pimp suit or the "Mambo No. 5" ensemble?

Tough call, but I vote for the Lou Bega look.

baba-booey! baba-booey!

We don't have full confirmation yet but it would appear that American Midol, the other blog I lovingly co-author with Mejack and The Lovely Jess, was mentioned on The Howard Stern Show (NSFW) this week. We don't know if the mention was good or bad but whatever, our traffic is on the rise and as unapologetic traffic whores, we're just giddy about this development. Love Howard or hate Howard, that's hot!

For the record, I don't hate Howard at all. In fact, I dig him and I listened to his show often, particularly in college. Among other things, Howard set me straight about the true meaning of the term dingleberry and for that, I'm grateful. Aren't we all?

Did you know that one of my first crushes as a wee girl was on one of his former interns? Except, at the time, he (and yes, it was a boy!) wasn't yet an intern because we were both, like, seven, and were too busy playing Marco Polo and manhunt at a summer resort in the Catskills. It wasn't until years later that I discovered that my crush and the intern were one and the same.

Oh and because I seem to be cosmically connected to people affiliated with Howard, I once had a phone conversation with Kenneth Keith Kallenbach. He's the dude who unsuccessfully tried to blow smoke out of his eyes and the only thing he ended up blowing was chunks, as I recall.

See, I used to work at a magazine which catered to aspiring actors and actresses. As such, my phone rang off the hook with calls from people looking to break into the biz. I also had to speak with countless talent agents and casting directors which, in case you're wondering, is an ordeal far more painful than any of the gruesome torture tactics I've ever seen depicted on 24. Also, some weird old agent told me that my voice sounded "remarkably like Helen Gurley Brown's." To which I responded, "Um? Thank you?"

God, I hated that job.

Anyhoo, one day the phone rang and a very distinct voice was on the other end. He was asking me questions about landing an agent or some crap like that. I couldn't really focus on what he was actually saying because I began immediately trying to place the familiar voice. And then in mid-sentence (his), I blurted out excitedly, "Are you Kenneth Keith Kallenbach?!?!" And he was all, "Whooooooa! You knoooooooow me?" I do believe my voice recognition made his day. I don't normally engage in "guess the voice" games like that but, like I said, his voice is very distinct. It sounds sort of like Jeff Spicoli's, if Jeff Spicoli was from Philadelphia.

If any of you out there have Sirius satellite radio and can confirm the Howard mention and/or provide some more details, please email us. Our self-absorbed asses would appreciate it!

pardon my french... manicure

Oh, the indignities we lesbians suffer in order to ensure our partners' maximum comfort while doing the deed. Check out Kevyn Abernathy's funny tale of fingernails over at QueerSighted.com. She's the lone lesbian writer on the site so please go and show her some love.

While I'm doing a bit of plugging, A Lesbian's Life is currently seeking "individuals who have had rich life experiences" and would like to take part their upcoming series called, WOW-Women on Women™. Oh and they're also soliciting photo submissions of smooching sisters for a kissing contest. Click here for more information.

i chart, you chart, they chart

Attention lesbians and those who want to socially network with us on a site that took forever to launch and from my limited exposure to it is quite buggy and lacks an intuitive user interface! Yeah, you! Listen up!

I finally set up my profile up on OurChart.com. Look me up... if you can figure out how!

Update: Here's a link to my profile, OurChart members. Admittedly, my profile is pretty much empty at the moment. I'll complete it when both my temper and attention span are not in such short supply. That site tries my patience, yo.

late night double feature picture show

Happy Belated Saint Patrick's Day! And since inquiring minds probably want to know, no, I was not out swilling green beer and puking in gutters and alleys. That was LAST weekend, thank you very much.

No really, I did not do a damn thing yesterday that even acknowledged my Irish heritage. Oh wait, I DVR'd The Field starring Richard Harris (to be viewed at a later date). Other than that, 'twas a paddy-free day for me.

See, I've been sort of run ragged these days and I got socked with a nasty sinus condition this week. I had that wonderful combination of nausea, aches, pains and fatigue kicking me arse but good. Even my teeth hurt. It, in a word, sucked. So I declined all social invites and set aside the weekend to convalesce.

After tromping home through the snow on Friday night, I put on my pajamas and then focused on one thing and one thing only: being a lazy fuck. I'm happy to report that I succeeded in the task.

Yesterday, I slept in, woke up, watched some TV, took a long nap and then engaged in a rather random movie marathon: A Cry in the Dark, Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead, A Farewell to Arms, The Departed and The Remains of the Day. Up next: The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

Wow... baby-eating dingos, dead mobsters, war, Nazis, death, destruction... I just realized that I have a rather fucked-up notion of what constitutes a relaxing distraction.

and scene!

I finished my acting class! And I lived to tell the tale! And I didn't suffer from incontinence! Not even once! Well, maybe just a little bit!

Did I battle a bad case of nerves? Yes. Near-crippling anxiety? Definitely. But I dealt with my jitters in the best way I could and made it through. My instructor, ever the dapper charming gentleman, kissed my hand after the last class and encouraged me to continue. I even had a gaggle of boys buzzing around me after the last class asking for my contact information. Where were all these boys back when I thought I was straight? Where?!

Most of the people in my class are taking courses in the spring semester and expressed disappointment that I wasn't doing the same. I'll probably go back but I'm going to take a wee breather first to give me time to figure out what I want to do. I was really good at the improv exercises so perhaps I'll continue down that road. Maybe I'll take scene study so I can learn how to analyze and really sink my teeth into well-written plays. Maybe I'll even learn a thing or two about writing my own. The possibilities, as they say, are endless.

In the meantime, I'm going to enroll in something with a little less wear and tear on my nerves: knitting. Yes, knitting. Oh, and I'm resurrecting my desire to take karate lessons. The dojo I originally went to was a bit too big for my liking so I found a smaller one in my neighborhood that seems promising (thanks to the Brooklyn Heights Blog!)

Maybe somehow I can incorporate the knitting needles into the ass-kickings I'll soon be doling out. I can tie them together with some yarn and fashion a pair of pointy nunchucks out of them or whatever. Or, at the very least, I can knit some mittens or a nice scarf as an "I'm sorry" gift to those I've beaten senseless. Hi-yah!

under britney's influence

This past Saturday night, my family convened for dinner to celebrate Mama McDimple's 70th birthday. The Adorable Six-Year-Old Niece arrived at the restaurant shortly after I did and immediately claimed the empty seat to my right. We had no sooner exchanged hugs and kisses before she lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper and breathed, "I have a secret to tell you."

"You do? What is it?" I asked.

Her big green eyes widened and her lips tightened forming a super serious expression on her cute wee face. She then cupped one hand over mouth and talk-whispered, "I forgot to put on my underpants... Don't tell my Mommy."

Ah, the perils of letting children dress themselves.

Oh, and apparently The Equally Adorable One-Year-Old Nephew was caught waddling around my parents' family room the other day holding two bottles of (unopened) booze he snuck from their bar.

Yup. There's absolutely NO question these children are related to me.