out like a lamb

It's hard to believe March is almost over already! As you loyal readers may have noticed, posts have gotten fewer and fewer as Zane's and my schedules have gotten more packed. Let me offer a brief recap:

• Zane continued to wish me a "happy birthday" every morning in the month of March until March 23rd. Job well done!
• Zane is on a winning streak for gifts. For christmas: Diamond Earrings. This past birthday: wine fridge. I'll keep him!
• We were able to host an assortment of family members between March 21st and March 28th. They all seemed to not mind Zane's dead bug collection he has started in the bathroom.
• No one found our under the bed dust bunny. He's been fed nothing but bathtub wookies since January and has become quite the loveable friend.
• One night I curiously went to inspect an odd grunting noise coming from the back of the apartment and found Zane almost fully enclosed in his rolling suitcase just because he wanted to see if he could fit.
• I couldn't fit either.
• Continuing my "everything you bring into this house you must use before we move" movement, here is a list of items that remain to be used: Zane's snazzy cookbook he got for Christmas from Santa, anything in that third bucket on the bottom of the tower, neckties from Mom.
• And here is a list of things that Zane has unfortunately used: my footie pajamas, my hair curling shampoo (he shaved his head!), Kid Sister, that furry piece of fruit in the back of the fridge.
• In an effort to prove a point I told Zane to show me one piece of clothing he bought himself. Insert 3 day pause. Resume that following weekend at his parents house when I get a response "Oh wait, wait.... Ta da!" And out from the bathroom pops Zane... proudly wearing the Speedo bathing suit he bought as a movie prop once. He still says it counts.

So.... that's the latest from Apartment A1. We hope to hear from you soon as our days here are numbered.

Soy un perdedor.

So this Sunday I turn 25 and it truly feels like I've hit my quarter life crisis. Countless friends from high school and college are married with kids... or just married... or just with kids, some have even been cast in Broadway shows! (Go Briana Go!) Each has shiny happy photos on Facebook of them boozing with friends on weekends and kegstands at their folks' place. And here I am... at an Elvis party with my boyfriend's parents.

This year I have decided to look as though I'm a lot cooler than all of my other friends to make them jealous. It's taken 25 years but I finally found the perfect "look how cute he is, jealous?" boyfriend prop, an apartment that I afford with no parental help, a real car (though it just sits in the driveway for now) and a career that looks good on paper. Here are some ideas to one up them all:

1. Borrow Zane's cousins' baby John and take "insta baby" photos. Now I'll look really skinny for having just popped out a 2 month old (er, newborn)
2. Pretend I'm dating a male model and make Zane pose on the hood of my Honda Accord. As long as he doesn't scratch it with that grommeted Speedo.
3. Make a fake "for sale"/"sold" sign and stick it on the patch of dirt outside my apartment building so I too can look like I've purchased an entire complex like another friend of mine did.
4. Have Zane take photos of me bringing my parents lunch and title it "helping out for Meals on Wheels".
5. Plan a wedding for the neighborhood cats, name them Zane and Julie, and keep all of the presents they receive.
6. Move back home and live on the water for the summer to get centered and find my passion. Oh wait... I win!

The Birthday Girl

With Julie's birthday fast approaching, I am racking my brain to think of how to celebrate it. I have thought of all the usual romantic gestures; flowers, diamonds, life-sized nude oil painting of myself, but nothing really quite clicks. Hopefully the arrival of her brother Neil will distract her enough for me to slip out unnoticed and do some last minute shopping.

A saying I have always lived by "Buy the ones you love, the things you'd love" makes this situation a lot easier. I guess I'll stop by Gamestop tomorrow, I know she's going to love Onechanbara: Bikini Samurai Squad.

Now, don't tell Julie, but I'm thinking of putting together a big surprise party. I have heard numerous times about the whole fiasco of her last birthday involving a surprise party. I have a fool proof plan though to make sure it doesn't end up being just Julie, myself, and 14 gallons of Koolaid. My master plan is to hold the party in the middle of Times Square! It's bound to be packed! So there may not be anyone she knows, and there might be more party guests wearing fanny packs and families dressed in matching leopard outfits than she would care for, but at least I could get at least a thousand people to show up! At that rate she won't care how much of her money I spent on 1-900 numbers, or the fact that I'm still married to Isvlana (I swear it was just for the green card), she will just be happy to be the recipient of such an awesome party!

Just some ideas

So I don't know if the jets have written it in the air yet... but my birthday is 10 days away.

For those who have spent a birthday or two (or eek coming up on 25!) you know I normally blow it up into something so great, it's been known to have songs written about it. Pretty darn great songs.

I am very excited to be able to travel home this weekend to have the famous Whitehouse Singers serenade me. That's the reason I'm really coming home. My mom and I have the uncanny ability to make our birthday celebrations last up to and beyond one month to a year. I know it gets tougher now that I'm farther from the nest, and people might not know what to do. I have compiled a photo album below of cake ideas.

(Yes Mom, I am aware we have reached the "why don't you buy a cake like all the other mothers" stage... so don't feel pressured to recreate the fabulousness below. Feel challenged.)

First up, I think this is a better take on a "girly cake"...




But now that I am well over legal drinking age, why not challenge yourself with this towering layer of awesomeness?


If Zane's going to be there though, you probably want to go the more job appropriate angle:


Speaking of awesomeness.... Why not just make a Zane cake?


That's really supposed to be Chuck Norris but I see an uncanny resemblance... Here are the 2 runner-up Chuck Norris cakes:



Lastly, my personal fave... the Tom Selleck:




So thanks to everyone gearing up for my big day/week/month I can't wait to not be let down!

Bring It On

So it seems the popularity of our blog has spread, much like Zane's dirty socks - all over. Each day I hear a response from a friend or family member about how they enjoy our daily quips. One of our friends even started a video blog... hmm.... maybe we inspired him?

But here's the deal. Every day I have to witness Zane hovering over his computer like a child of divorce looking for acceptance. Constantly refreshing the screen to see if we have received any comments on how funny we are, how great we look, basically just on our amazingness in general. And so far... nothing. So this is my plea. I know you are reading this. Yeah, don't look over your shoulder, you. Maybe you're Zane's mom, or Julie's. (Shout out to my mom!) You could even be a sibling... Maren, Neil... this means you. Perhaps you're an old friend or new. Maybe you don't even know us and you creepily found this link....creepster.

Props to our brave 2 "followers" Richelle, my great friend from college, and Katelyn, my awesome cousin who taught me what blogging truly is! These people can admit they are addicted to learning about Zane's and my personal life. They have nothing better to do than refresh THEIR screens waiting for a notice that we've posted.

For Zane's sanity and my curiosity.... we ask you all to show yourselves! Leave a mark in history and let us know you're spying on us. Don't worry... we spy on all of you too. Maybe even pose a question about our coupledom for future blogs to answer. Comments are always welcome!

If you need help knowing what to say here are some starters:

Q: Does Zane leave the toilet seat up?
A: No, he's been trained very well.

Q: How much of what you type is real and how much is made up?
A: Made up?

Q: Why are you two still together?
A: Julie needs help with her rent.

Q: Are you really moving away in May?
A: Yes, but the stories will only get more interesting as we travel from up and coming New York City to down and leaving (no offense) Athol, Massachussetts. That's pronounce Ah-thol not Ath-hole.

So, there are some starters, your turn. The most creative one will be answered first!

Bang On the Drum

I'm sorry to all of you who have been checking the blog like mad, hoping to find out some more juicy insight into the Ghitehouse/Would apartment. For the past couple days I have been working a freelance job, or what Julie's calls an "about damn time". Working as a freelancer typically leaves a lot of down time, and since Julie has amended the house rules to state "no running drug/prostitute rings out of the front window" I have had to find more "dignified work". It's been pretty grueling sitting in front of a computer at a post-production house watching people talk about beer all day.

Being out of the house more than Julie each day means that I have considerably less time to play pranks with her stuff. Now whenever I walk into the bathroom with a roll of cellophane, I'm grilled relentlessly till my whole plan is ruined. She seems to be delighted to have free run of the place again until I come home and "stink it up again" - Julie Whitehouse.

I can prove to her that I'm more than dashing good looks and a tight rear end but that I can also be a moderately constructive member of society. Perhaps now she won't make me sleep in the Zane Bed anymore, which deep down I know isn't just a kind of bed that Zanes have to sleep on, but rather an empty suitcase lined with kitty litter.

Working Man

Life was just starting to get comfortable with a live in maid and then Zane had to go and do the unthinkable--- get a job.

Here I am to fend for myself for TWO WEEKS, even do the unthinkable: consider doing dishes.

I have assumed the role of housewife and I must say, I think it fits me well. During downtime, I smoke really long cigarettes with an apron on, scold the children out the window to behave while playing, look at the full sink of dirty dishes and sigh heavily as I slip into a deeper and deeper depression.

This is not what it's like on BRAVO. Where are my rich gal pals to talk gossipy smack talk about our trashy neighbors' lack of values? I was not handed a credit card with unlimited expenses either. You sure this is right? Maybe it got delivered to the wrong address.

Speaking of which... many people have been asking for our new address. If anyone still needs it, just email me at juliewhitehouse@gmail.com I'd love the contact.... in fact.... just write.... about anything. Tell me about you washing the dishes.... Entertain me.

I'm so alone.

Oh! I have to go, I think Zane is coming up the steps and I need to make sure his evening brandy is poured just right or else I am not allowed to eat dinner. Ta ta!

Ode to My Roommate

A series of haikus...

Today I realized

Your mother buys all your clothes.

Sigh. Oh no... red flag.

~~~

Now I discover,

You peed on the toilet seat.

....Sigh, oh no. Red flag.

~~~

I did your laundry.

Brown skids? What would these be from...?

Sigh. ...OH NO! RED FLAG!

.

.

.

.

[Note to reader: Zane would like it to be known he doesn't have brown skids. As for the other two... no comment.]

A Barbie Girl in a Virtual World

The internet holds many strange and marvelous things. Being that we don't have tv in the apartment we have been filling our evenings with scouring the internet for the most intriguing and scarring materials we can find. Our journey has even gone so far as a place I swore I'd never set foot in, Second Life.

For those who are not familiar with Second Life, it is a "game" where you can travel around virtual worlds exploring the sights, chatting with other players from across the world, and even wearing fancy hats. When you first log in you are prompted to create a virtual character for yourself (or Avatar). These characters can range from a realistic representation of yourself, to a creepy animal-man hybrid known as a Furry.

The game lends an openness to do anything you can think of, and I mean anything. Given that this is a place where people can mingle anonymously, you can imagine things gets pretty hairy. Still being new to Second Life we really don't know our way around the place. Any sort of strange adventures we embark on are merely by coincidence. On our aging computers the game runs pretty poorly, most of the time things come in gray and jittery so it leaves much to the imagination.

Julie has taken on the role of Sunshine Farquart, a pink haired goth ballerina. I created Zed Zavala, who has a gruff biker exterior and the heart of a poet. We enjoy dancing in inappropriate settings, making people believe that we just met in Second Life, and gaining the trust of a fellow "noob" only to ditch them at a brothel. Yes it seems that to get ahead in the game you really must be creative. Without any set goals or quick ways to make in-game money, the only other option is seeing whatever other deranged personalities we can meet.

Zed taking in the sights at one of the local furry clubs.
Sunshine being productive.
Chatting up some cats at a hotel that will be holding a furry convention.

Phrases & Phases

Many families have their own secret languages they speak in. Often endearing terms formulated over years of being with one another. Zane has tried to start such a language between him and me since moving in, but it hasn't really taken root yet.

I try to tell my girlfriends this problem, but they just think it's "so sweet" and "wish they had a boyfriend so thoughtful". Who are they to know? They just like that when they come to visit Zane braids their hair and paints their toes like was agreed upon in exchange for me temporarily storing his clothes, video games, etc.

For example...

In my family, when we have a cold and don't want to spread germs but want to show our love, we smack arms with each other. Over the course of time, this has evolved into saying "wappa wappa" i.e. the sound of arms hitting.

In my new apartment, Zane has been known to randomly punch me in the face while he sleeps. He has affectionately termed this "rocket arm".

In my family, my father wanted to give Neil a really strong nickname as a child. He went through some variations, (Moose, SuperNerd, Willow) but eventually settled on "Boog" I believe after baseball player Boog Powell. I like to think it's after booger.

In my new apartment, Zane now calls me "One" as in "the One" due to contractual agreements. I have thus decided to call him "Two".

In my family, my kindergarten teacher called up my mother with concern over what I was referring to in class as her "bunny pajamas." Jumping to the worst conclusions, Mrs. Low thought Mom was parading around the living room on a regular basis in Hugh Hefner approved apparel. While true for the occassional Sunday, this time was only a reference to her floor-length non-sexy flannel nightgown with a rabbit on the front.

In my new apartment, the newness has worn off and Zane sees it fit to revert to his most casual of outfits. I don't know why he insisted we move box upon box of clothes for him when now the only thing he wears everyday are his slightly too small "footie pajamas." It has become an embarassing issue at the grocery store, and the local V.F.W. hall has banned his innappropriate, 2 foot high wedgie from about a dozen locations in Astoria. I share my embarassment with you below. (First with us celebrating Christmas, followed by last Thursday, making pancakes, and then lastly this morning when I told him I was submitting his name for the Amazing Race.)

Don't go chasing waterfalls, you'll catch a cold

Being around your significant other everyday means that you are bound to see them at their worst. Although for me, my worst comes around every couple of hours. It has been comforting to find that Julie knows just how deal with me, whatever illness I may have. At the first sign of symptoms she's right there to make me feel better. Whether it's blowing cigar smoke in my face when I'm feeling the onset of a soar throat, or whipping up her patented "Tummy feel better ok? Shake" a mix of yogurt, iced cream, orange juice, with a dash of Rohypnol. She has the cure for what ails me.

Strangely enough though when she gets sick the only real remedy seems to be for me to leave her alone. Something about me being around seems to worsen her symptoms. It has gotten to the point where whenever she sneezes I begin to put on my jacket out of reflex. I am starting to think that she may be allergic to me or perhaps my dander. Try as I may, my home remedies tend to have adverse effects. Last time Julie had a fever I came up with the idea to fill the bed with ice while she was sleeping, suffice to say she didn't appreciate my effort.

Worst of all, I think my stomach has been a bad influence on Julie's. For most of my life my stomach has been notoriously evil, constantly getting upset for no reason whatsoever. The logic of my stomach being: eating an entire pound cake + KFC famous chicken bowl + a healthy coating of Red Devil hot sauce over everything = a good time. Whereas something as simple as: One too many Olive Garden bread sticks = me having a sleepless night clutching my stomach. I will have to find some way to gag my stomach so that it can no longer talk to Julie's and spread it's evil, sadistic, propaganda.

Evening Up the Score

There is lots of stir about this new blog. I understand the idea of Zane and myself having control over an online diary sounds scary to most, and we agree. With great power comes great responsibility.

Dear Zane's family,

I understand lots of your stories are due to be shared because of the mass quantity of time we spend together. Believe me, I love it just as much as you do... Ahem. And while that's entertaining for my family to read, you haven't really had the chance to learn about my family and our deep dark secrets. Let me try to help you get a better understanding of where I come from.

As a child, we were forced to leave the house everyday to play outside until we were deemed adequately exercised. This could be minutes, hours, or days long, sometimes the neighbors would pity us and give us scraps of food. If we were lucky we could sneak next door and sit outside the window and watch some pirated Sesame Street. We were given a 4 foot square of pavement to ride our hand me down Huffys on, barely making the turn each time. The dizzying effects impeded our coordination and we were deemed visually impared and all forced to get glasses. They told us these would make us smarter, and after years of seeing everything in intense focus, my eyesight has worsened enough for me to see normally. I don't tell them this... I never tell them this...

Years later upon arriving at "smart kid college" they dropped me off in Boston to make them proud. As soon as the minivan pulled away, I boarded an airplane to escape. Hearing word of this, I was sent back only to suffer for 4 more years and then painfully shipped back to their home while I "got my feet on the ground." Held hostage to watch Oprah, do my own dishes, and go to "the mall" for months on end, I couldn't take it any longer and escaped to New York City. I have been safely here for a year and a half but again.... have been found.

I have taken Zane hostage, a bartering tool for negotiations. He's not wise yet as to the situation he is entering, but I feel it's safer that way. We are being forced to move under the watchful eye of my parents again. I have not yet told Zane that we have no TV, computers, or electronics in my household because they "are the devil's way of communicating." His smoke signal skills are really improving, but I am running out of reasons to justify his learning.

So, these are the basics, I hope you feel you have had an inside look into my family. I'm sure over the years you will have a chance to make your own impressions.... I just hope you're lucky enough to escape. I'm a lost cause but save yourselves!!!!