I was fast-forwarding through the commercials of my Tivoed Gray's Anatomy when I saw an ad zip by for Febreze scented like Gain detergent and like Downy dryer sheets. I immediately stopped my frenzy through the commercials to find out about the events at Seattle Grace Hospital to go back and find this commercial to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. I mean SURELY I was mistaken, right? Could this be possible? I have been through the detergent aisle a dozen times, browsing through all the Febreze scented products, wondering how they chose which Febreze scent to use (since there are so many!) and being totally uncertain if it really made a difference because I'm kind of scent freak. I find one and latch onto it in what some might say is an unhealthy way. You might use the word "obsessed"; I would just say I'm passionate.
So now we have Tide scented with Febreze and Bounce with Febreze scent (which I'm still not sure what it is and how it's more beneficial than their regular scents) and now we have Febreze that smells like Downy and Gain... So does that mean that we should just switch to Downy and Gain instead of Tide and Bounce? I mean are they going to have Tide with Febreze's Gain scent? No, I'm guessing they're not. It's a total traitor move by Febreze. They're saying, "Tide isn't good enough smelling on it's own so they need us to make it better, but even though we're better than Tide, we're not good enough smelling on our own either. So we need the greatest scent of all - Gain. So if you're picking a laundry detergent by it's scent, then you really can't use Tide... you should use Gain because, even with our scent, Tide is still not good enough." If I were Tide I'd be pissed... unless they're all owned by the same company and it's just meant to be one big ole Mind "F" and we're not supposed to know what the hell to do anymore because all the detergents and dryer sheets are looped together in some sort of tickery. It's like laundry detergent incest. I no longer trust any of them.
*sigh*
I will continue to use my Tide original, I guess, but PLEASE Arm & Hammer, don't do anything to your 2 in 1 Lavendar Vanilla moist dryer sheets. Remember, I'm passionate... obsessed... passionately obsessed. It will crush me. So Back OFF Febreze.
Friday, September 25, 2009
What's the Point?
My husband made an accusation the other day, and while I'm not saying that his accusation was very far from the truth, I felt like his example was stupid and caused me to be argumentative.
We were in the kitchen when he pointed out that I have a tendency to not use the last bit of a product. For example, the milk. I can stretch a tablespoon of milk to last through two pots of coffee, but apparently when I put back the milk jug with only teentsy bits of milk in it - this drives him batty. The milk, however, is my example. HIS example was the cheese. He said, "...like you put back the Swiss with only one slice left."
Now while I totally see his point and am very positive that he is right (if he weren't right I wouldn't have 45 bottles of lotion, shampoo and conditioner with an ounce at the bottom of the bottle as I preserve them for no apparent reason) I couldn't help, but be totally agitated by this example. So... if I am making a sandwich and I normally only use one piece of Swiss on my sandwich, I am supposed to use TWO pieces of cheese because having ONE piece of cheese left in the fridge is somehow irritating? Somehow one piece of cheese in the fridge is LESS appealing than not having any cheese left in the fridge? How does that make sense? I have never gone to the fridge looking for cheese to put on a sandwich and gone, "Aw crap! There's only one giant slice of cheese? What am I going to do now?" So I got mad at him, not because he was being critical of me, but because his point was spoiled by his poor example choice.
What does this say about me??
We were in the kitchen when he pointed out that I have a tendency to not use the last bit of a product. For example, the milk. I can stretch a tablespoon of milk to last through two pots of coffee, but apparently when I put back the milk jug with only teentsy bits of milk in it - this drives him batty. The milk, however, is my example. HIS example was the cheese. He said, "...like you put back the Swiss with only one slice left."
Now while I totally see his point and am very positive that he is right (if he weren't right I wouldn't have 45 bottles of lotion, shampoo and conditioner with an ounce at the bottom of the bottle as I preserve them for no apparent reason) I couldn't help, but be totally agitated by this example. So... if I am making a sandwich and I normally only use one piece of Swiss on my sandwich, I am supposed to use TWO pieces of cheese because having ONE piece of cheese left in the fridge is somehow irritating? Somehow one piece of cheese in the fridge is LESS appealing than not having any cheese left in the fridge? How does that make sense? I have never gone to the fridge looking for cheese to put on a sandwich and gone, "Aw crap! There's only one giant slice of cheese? What am I going to do now?" So I got mad at him, not because he was being critical of me, but because his point was spoiled by his poor example choice.
What does this say about me??
Monday, August 24, 2009
How to Boil Water
I have become so reliant on technology. Sad, really. I remember when Neal was deployed for 6 months and we had to write letters. Not emails. LETTERS. Like with stamps and an envelope and two weeks of waiting... military mail moves a little slower than a snail. There was no email, let alone video chat. I also remember getting so peeved at people and "their cell phones." There was a time when I used to say, "I refuse to get a cell phone!" Me! The one with the Blackberry in the doctor's office giggling at Facebook posts and texting all my friends like a teenager... I used to say I would never have a cell phone. It's kind of funny that I was so ANTI technology for a minute considering my dad's work has always sort of been at the forward point of technological developments. He sold the first fax machine, we had the first car phones, they even tried to develop a pager watch in the 80's, fiber-optic phone lines, video phones, and now renewable fuel. We were of the first people to have the CD player, the VHS player (never the Beta - my dad was too smart to fall for that short lived advancement) and the DVD player. My husband has an iPhone, we have a Wii and my mom's car doesn't require a key. So the short stint to struggle against technological advancements was kind of odd for me! I am now being punished for it.
My microwave is broken.
Do you have any idea how hard life is when you don't have a microwave!? And it's not one of the counter-top jobs that you can just toss and get a new one. It's one of those over-the-stove deals that requires a repairman. He's coming Thursday. The microwave broke Saturday night. My kids have no idea what it's like to live in a world where food isn't ready in 30 seconds. They have no idea what it's like to live in a world where you flush your own toilet, pump soap with your hand, turn on the faucet using the hot and cold knobs and roll the silver handle on the paper towel roll to dry your hands! Okay, I admit it's not quite that bad yet, but it's close. I can already see the future conversations like, "when I was your age we had to cook our food, it wasn't delivered by a machine in the kitchen and we didn't have robot maids! We had to clean our own rooms! And we drove on roads, not in space ships." Did I watch too much The Jetsons as a kid? Perhaps. But you get my point. Back to the microwave.
I have a 10 month old who no longer nurses - she drinks formula. Typically I heat the water in the microwave and then add the powder. But now I actually have to get up at 6 in the morning to boil water! Well... I put water in the bottle warmer and turn it on, but I still have to wait 5 minutes for it to warm the bottle... now that I've said that "out loud" it sounds really stupid, but I can't deny the truth in it. Waiting 4 and a half minutes longer for a bottle just sucks. Also, my usual lunch is something from the freezer, a sandwich or soup. Two of the three require a microwave. Okay, that's not entirely true, but it feels true. What's the point of cooking a Lean Cuisine in the oven? I might as well cook in that case and that is just too much effort for the middle of the afternoon when you're already chasing a 3-year-old, a 10-month-old AND trying to pay attention to Days of our Lives! I am not Super Woman! I am flawed Liz who is desperately trying to figure out the best way to reheat my cup of coffee!! The mugs are too big for the bottle warmer... I tried.
My house is starting to feel like post WWII Germany.
That might be a wee bit on the dramatic side. We have bread... and money, albeit no a lot of it, and most of all electricity. But I will admit that it will be a long time coming for me to squawk about technology again. Unless my WiFi goes out...
My microwave is broken.
Do you have any idea how hard life is when you don't have a microwave!? And it's not one of the counter-top jobs that you can just toss and get a new one. It's one of those over-the-stove deals that requires a repairman. He's coming Thursday. The microwave broke Saturday night. My kids have no idea what it's like to live in a world where food isn't ready in 30 seconds. They have no idea what it's like to live in a world where you flush your own toilet, pump soap with your hand, turn on the faucet using the hot and cold knobs and roll the silver handle on the paper towel roll to dry your hands! Okay, I admit it's not quite that bad yet, but it's close. I can already see the future conversations like, "when I was your age we had to cook our food, it wasn't delivered by a machine in the kitchen and we didn't have robot maids! We had to clean our own rooms! And we drove on roads, not in space ships." Did I watch too much The Jetsons as a kid? Perhaps. But you get my point. Back to the microwave.
I have a 10 month old who no longer nurses - she drinks formula. Typically I heat the water in the microwave and then add the powder. But now I actually have to get up at 6 in the morning to boil water! Well... I put water in the bottle warmer and turn it on, but I still have to wait 5 minutes for it to warm the bottle... now that I've said that "out loud" it sounds really stupid, but I can't deny the truth in it. Waiting 4 and a half minutes longer for a bottle just sucks. Also, my usual lunch is something from the freezer, a sandwich or soup. Two of the three require a microwave. Okay, that's not entirely true, but it feels true. What's the point of cooking a Lean Cuisine in the oven? I might as well cook in that case and that is just too much effort for the middle of the afternoon when you're already chasing a 3-year-old, a 10-month-old AND trying to pay attention to Days of our Lives! I am not Super Woman! I am flawed Liz who is desperately trying to figure out the best way to reheat my cup of coffee!! The mugs are too big for the bottle warmer... I tried.
My house is starting to feel like post WWII Germany.
That might be a wee bit on the dramatic side. We have bread... and money, albeit no a lot of it, and most of all electricity. But I will admit that it will be a long time coming for me to squawk about technology again. Unless my WiFi goes out...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Fall! (and football)
Fall is so close I can almost taste it and all of it's pumpkiny goodness. Of course they totally cheat here in the south because school starts in August so I get the fall bug early. August is not fall. August isn't even Fall's close relative. Hell, August isn't even Fall's third cousin by marriage on it's father's side. How they can justify starting school in the ugly, sweaty heart of summer is beyond me. Everyone knows you start school in early September when fall is so close by you can at least pretend! And you end it in June, not when you're still picking May flowers. We might as well have spring break in February. But I didn't want to write about the goofy school system and how they're blowing half their annual budget on air conditioning in the first month of school - I wanted to write about FALL!!!
Oh glorious Fall. The most wonderful time of year. My heart is swelling at the idea of pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin rolls... oh, I can't wait!!! PUMPKIN FUDGE!!! Sorry... I'm just excited. Email me if you want the recipe for pumpkin fudge - it will blow your freakin' mind! Pumpkin is just one of the many things I'm looking forward to. Can you believe I'm actually excited to turn 33?! The 3rd annual Halloween Bash will be in full effect this year! Of course last year I was fully dilated. I've been tossing around costume ideas... I'm totally blank. I'll come up with something! All ideas are welcome... of course I probably won't use your idea, but it will surely point me in the right direction. The party will be at Bud's Pub & Garage this year - which means it will take place at the bar that has been built in my garage. I really need to do a blog about BP&G. It's a special place.
And since you are all AWESOME at math, you know that this Fall my lovely little baby will have her 1st birthday. Which is lovely and sad all at once. And right on the heels of my sweet little girls first bite of birthday cake will be the birth of my cousin's (who is more like my sister) first baby. And that is just lovely!
But what I'm REALLY excited about is FOOTBALL. Those of you that know me will know that I attended two colleges - The University of Oregon and the University of Tennessee. And even though the Ducks will always hold a special place in my heart - I am a Vol through and through. From my orange hair to my white blood cells. V-O-L-S go vols go! I am not ashamed to admit that I am drinking the Kiffin Kool-aid, either. (CLICK HERE if you need the back story)And it's totally not because he's smokin' hot, either. Okay... maybe it's a little bit because of that. I'm just about to jump out of my skin for the first game of UT football to see just exactly what it is we're made of under this new leadership. This will be my first year as a Tennessee Volunteer outside of the Phillip Fulmer era. I was not born here, was not raised a Vol - Phillip Fulmer is all I've known. I cried when they ousted him. But what's done is done and I'm not one to sulk over the things I cannot control (of course hiring a super hot coach that hates the Raiders as much as I do helps a lot in the non-sulking department). Just get into the season already and let's beat Florida and Auburn. Oh... and all the other games, too, but those two games specifically give me braggin' rights within my family. My brother went to Auburn and his lovely wife went to Florida and as long as I can mail them "sorry for your loss" cards after the game, I'm good. (Lee, if you're reading this I could really use a good card for this purpose - maybe a "way to fail" or something? Maybe the "after all these years" card will be appropriate this season... assuming we pull off the win)
If all this Tennessee football excitement wasn't enough, I'm having to experience two regime changes at the same time. The Denver Broncos gave my favorite coach Mike Tan-a-shan the boot and then quickly delievered Jay Cutler to Chicago in exchange for Kyle Orton... and somehow - NOT ON PURPOSE - I eneded up with both those guys on my fantasy football team. This should prove to be an interesting year for football fans... or at least Tennessee Vol fans that are also Denver Bronco fans... so for my husband and me... and Al Wilson. If there are others like us, I have yet to meet them.
This Fall is going to be the awesomest Fall yet! I hope you're prepared with your apple, cranberry or pumpkin recipes, your Halloween costume ideas, your baby gifts and your football orange (and blue on Sundays) or whatever your team's colors are! I know I am!!
Oh glorious Fall. The most wonderful time of year. My heart is swelling at the idea of pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin rolls... oh, I can't wait!!! PUMPKIN FUDGE!!! Sorry... I'm just excited. Email me if you want the recipe for pumpkin fudge - it will blow your freakin' mind! Pumpkin is just one of the many things I'm looking forward to. Can you believe I'm actually excited to turn 33?! The 3rd annual Halloween Bash will be in full effect this year! Of course last year I was fully dilated. I've been tossing around costume ideas... I'm totally blank. I'll come up with something! All ideas are welcome... of course I probably won't use your idea, but it will surely point me in the right direction. The party will be at Bud's Pub & Garage this year - which means it will take place at the bar that has been built in my garage. I really need to do a blog about BP&G. It's a special place.
And since you are all AWESOME at math, you know that this Fall my lovely little baby will have her 1st birthday. Which is lovely and sad all at once. And right on the heels of my sweet little girls first bite of birthday cake will be the birth of my cousin's (who is more like my sister) first baby. And that is just lovely!
But what I'm REALLY excited about is FOOTBALL. Those of you that know me will know that I attended two colleges - The University of Oregon and the University of Tennessee. And even though the Ducks will always hold a special place in my heart - I am a Vol through and through. From my orange hair to my white blood cells. V-O-L-S go vols go! I am not ashamed to admit that I am drinking the Kiffin Kool-aid, either. (CLICK HERE if you need the back story)And it's totally not because he's smokin' hot, either. Okay... maybe it's a little bit because of that. I'm just about to jump out of my skin for the first game of UT football to see just exactly what it is we're made of under this new leadership. This will be my first year as a Tennessee Volunteer outside of the Phillip Fulmer era. I was not born here, was not raised a Vol - Phillip Fulmer is all I've known. I cried when they ousted him. But what's done is done and I'm not one to sulk over the things I cannot control (of course hiring a super hot coach that hates the Raiders as much as I do helps a lot in the non-sulking department). Just get into the season already and let's beat Florida and Auburn. Oh... and all the other games, too, but those two games specifically give me braggin' rights within my family. My brother went to Auburn and his lovely wife went to Florida and as long as I can mail them "sorry for your loss" cards after the game, I'm good. (Lee, if you're reading this I could really use a good card for this purpose - maybe a "way to fail" or something? Maybe the "after all these years" card will be appropriate this season... assuming we pull off the win)
If all this Tennessee football excitement wasn't enough, I'm having to experience two regime changes at the same time. The Denver Broncos gave my favorite coach Mike Tan-a-shan the boot and then quickly delievered Jay Cutler to Chicago in exchange for Kyle Orton... and somehow - NOT ON PURPOSE - I eneded up with both those guys on my fantasy football team. This should prove to be an interesting year for football fans... or at least Tennessee Vol fans that are also Denver Bronco fans... so for my husband and me... and Al Wilson. If there are others like us, I have yet to meet them.
This Fall is going to be the awesomest Fall yet! I hope you're prepared with your apple, cranberry or pumpkin recipes, your Halloween costume ideas, your baby gifts and your football orange (and blue on Sundays) or whatever your team's colors are! I know I am!!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Get Outta My Dreams...
And into my appropriately selected car. Billy Ocean almost got it right. I bore witness to an atrocity the other day... several actually... but this one in particular was the spark that ignited the fuse of irritation that has exploded into this blog about appropriately selected cars. Why do people drive cars that are completely inappropriate for them!? I was leaving the grocery store the other day and saw someone driving a fairly new Lexus with one of those over-the-visor CD holders. WHAT!? Seriously? That's like buying a Picasso and hanging it in a Wal-mart frame. Would you buy a mansion and put an above ground pool in the front yard? Noooo. You wouldn't. There has to be an unwritten rule about the kinds of cars you are and are and are not allowed to drive! Am I right? Like this guy should have been driving a '99 Toyota Corolla. I don't really have a problem with over the visor CD holders... not really. But the people that use those are not the people who need to be driving Lexus. lexuses. lexi. Whatever the plural for Lexus is!
If you're the kind of person that puts CDs on your visor, hangs mardi gras beads on your rear-view mirror, is willing to post any kind of bumper sticker or decal on your car, or are younger than 25 then you limit yourself to the types of car you are qualified to drive. Anything with the words, "luxury, elite or upscale" are out of your league. Also, if you're not attractive please avoid driving sexy cars. Just because you can afford it doesn't make it appropriate. Okay, Frankie Muniz? If you have a perm or wear "mom-jeans" you don't need to drive a mustang. There are other perfectly acceptable convertibles that are more appropriate - the VW bug or the Chrysler Sebring come to mind. Oh, and Diane - yeah, you... the one driving the luxury SUV with your name on the license plate - you are not driving the appropriate car. What? Yes, I see that it has your name on it, but I believe you meant to purchase the yellow Ford Escape, not the pearl white Mercedes. And just a side note - if your name has 6 or 7 letters or can be spelled cleverly with letters and numbers, it does not mean you need to put it on your license plate. No one cares what your name is, who you are or how clever you are. Just get out of the way when you're lost and for God sakes - learn how things work at a 4-way stop. Please!
Of course there are always some blurred lines... like you're always qualified to drive any car that you've remodeled yourself or built from scratch... just PLEASE guys... not a VW rabbit...unless that's the statement you want to make. Pretty girls can drive whatever they want. I know it's not fair, but it's true. Nothing looks bad with a pretty girl driving it. However - you cannot be the judge of your own prettiness. Some of you have a skewed vision of yourself. The same is for hot guys over the age of 25. Guys younger than 25... oh wow... where do I begin. Let's just say this - you are not as awesome as you believe you are and I think all guys under the age of 25 should have to drive one P.O.S car without a stereo for at least 6 months and if it can't go over 55, then that's a bonus.
I also believe that the cars themselves should have certain rules. For example - sports cars and Jeeps should NEVER come in an automatic. If you want one - learn the gears. Consider it a right of passage. I also believe that particular cars should not be available in certain colors - yellow, for example, should only be used on really interestingly shaped SUVs (Hummers or FJs) and Jeeps or very fast sports cars. Classic cars are acceptable as well. If your car was made by Geo - it should not be yellow. Oh - and trucks don't need testicles. If you feel like you need to hang balls from your truck to let us know how "bad ass" you are, then you are not bad ass. You are just bad. Or ass. But not both. And your truck's balls, I'm guessing, are probably bigger than yours.
Am I taking the relationship with the car too seriously? Or are there others out there who feel this way, too? I should probably end this here... I just had a thought about men driving minivans like jerks to compensate for the fact that they're driving minivans and if I go off on that tangent there may be no return. So on that note I bid you good day, sir. I said, "good day!"
If you're the kind of person that puts CDs on your visor, hangs mardi gras beads on your rear-view mirror, is willing to post any kind of bumper sticker or decal on your car, or are younger than 25 then you limit yourself to the types of car you are qualified to drive. Anything with the words, "luxury, elite or upscale" are out of your league. Also, if you're not attractive please avoid driving sexy cars. Just because you can afford it doesn't make it appropriate. Okay, Frankie Muniz? If you have a perm or wear "mom-jeans" you don't need to drive a mustang. There are other perfectly acceptable convertibles that are more appropriate - the VW bug or the Chrysler Sebring come to mind. Oh, and Diane - yeah, you... the one driving the luxury SUV with your name on the license plate - you are not driving the appropriate car. What? Yes, I see that it has your name on it, but I believe you meant to purchase the yellow Ford Escape, not the pearl white Mercedes. And just a side note - if your name has 6 or 7 letters or can be spelled cleverly with letters and numbers, it does not mean you need to put it on your license plate. No one cares what your name is, who you are or how clever you are. Just get out of the way when you're lost and for God sakes - learn how things work at a 4-way stop. Please!
Of course there are always some blurred lines... like you're always qualified to drive any car that you've remodeled yourself or built from scratch... just PLEASE guys... not a VW rabbit...unless that's the statement you want to make. Pretty girls can drive whatever they want. I know it's not fair, but it's true. Nothing looks bad with a pretty girl driving it. However - you cannot be the judge of your own prettiness. Some of you have a skewed vision of yourself. The same is for hot guys over the age of 25. Guys younger than 25... oh wow... where do I begin. Let's just say this - you are not as awesome as you believe you are and I think all guys under the age of 25 should have to drive one P.O.S car without a stereo for at least 6 months and if it can't go over 55, then that's a bonus.
I also believe that the cars themselves should have certain rules. For example - sports cars and Jeeps should NEVER come in an automatic. If you want one - learn the gears. Consider it a right of passage. I also believe that particular cars should not be available in certain colors - yellow, for example, should only be used on really interestingly shaped SUVs (Hummers or FJs) and Jeeps or very fast sports cars. Classic cars are acceptable as well. If your car was made by Geo - it should not be yellow. Oh - and trucks don't need testicles. If you feel like you need to hang balls from your truck to let us know how "bad ass" you are, then you are not bad ass. You are just bad. Or ass. But not both. And your truck's balls, I'm guessing, are probably bigger than yours.
Am I taking the relationship with the car too seriously? Or are there others out there who feel this way, too? I should probably end this here... I just had a thought about men driving minivans like jerks to compensate for the fact that they're driving minivans and if I go off on that tangent there may be no return. So on that note I bid you good day, sir. I said, "good day!"
Monday, June 8, 2009
Stupid Summer Break
When I decided to have a third child I failed to take into account a few minor details. Summer, for example. I did not consider the Summer months when I was thinking how nice it would be to have little red-haired, blue-eyed mini version of myself, (I'm convinced I willed those traits onto her) and now that Summer is here I find myself overwhelmed with the desire to climb to the back of my closet, lights off, deep in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest with a tight grip on a very stiff drink. I remember the days when I had one self-sufficient child and one fairly independent 2 year-old that would play in the back yard happily - trapped within the fence and only coming to me with drink requests or scraped knees. I remember it like it was just 365 days ago. I could do thinks like vacuum or shower. But, then I had to go and get knocked up with my selfish desire for ONE CHILD that looks like ME! Stupid Murphy Gene. I go through all the work and the trauma and the stretch marks and the future boob job only to look like the nanny in my family pictures. So I played the odds. Statistics is the only math that I was really good at, anyway... probably because it's easily manipulated.
The odds worked mostly in my favor... there are still little bits of her father in there. She's definitely fitting right in as a Murphy in that she couldn't look more Irish if she were drunk and made out of potatoes. I mostly won out, though. VICTORY!! And it was easy to get into a schedule. During school we spent every Tuesday and Thursday together while kid 2 was in preschool making art history, and kid 1, of course, in 1st grade. Kid 3 and I would clean and do laundry... go to the gym or Target and grab a Starbucks and go look at all the cute infant fashions. We would smile and laugh, the sun beaming down on us with rays of happiness and giggles.
And then it was May.
School ended.
I no longer have my Tuesday and Thursday adventures alone with the baby. Now I just have Monday - Sunday shouting, screaming, and whining. It didn't help matters that the first couple of weeks of summer break were filled with rainy indoor adventures. The girls were bored and it is, apparently, my job to fix this problem. Only every idea I come up with is shot down like a clay pigeon. My day is filled with "Mom! Watch THIS!!" which is usually followed by a time-out, a band-aid, or applause. Everything I put away is immediately taken back out to be played with because toys are not interesting until they have been placed back on the shelf. Dress up consists of taking all of the clothes off the hangers and dumping them on the floor - this normally happens right after I have put all of the laundry away. Art projects with glue and scissors become the "hairdresser" game. What happened to my normal children? The baby suddenly needs to be sitting up when she's lying down, lying down when she's sitting up, picked up when she's tired and put down when she's awake and no matter what - NEEDS me to be in her line of sight at all times.
So my house is a cluttered mess, which is driving me absolutely MAD! I'd get a Roomba to do the vacuuming, but there's only like 1 sq. foot of exposed floor throughout most of the day. There are earwigs EVERYWHERE! In the mailbox, in my shoes, on the ceiling... how do they stay up there!? My plants have fruit flies in the soil and they might be the single most annoying bug on the planet... next to the house fly. Although I don't expect ot be having a problem with them anymore... I chased a fly for 30 minutes with the vacuum, finally sucked it up and then just when it was really freaked out - I released it so that it would go and tell all of the other flies about the crazy lady with the fly sucking machine in the house on the hill. I don't expect to see anymore houseflies.
One just landed on my arm as I typed that. DAMN! Stupid daredevil flies.
And just when there might be one single moment of peace during the day, there will inevitabley be a HUGE diaper that has exploded all over everything. So now here I am... in the closet... hiding like a coward. Running like Dr. Frankenstein from my own selfish creation while they shout at me about how badly we need Wonderhangers or Oxyclean. Stupid infomercials.
I need a vacation! And I'm taking one! And I can't WAIT!!
Of course I'm really gonna miss these little buggers while I'm gone.
The odds worked mostly in my favor... there are still little bits of her father in there. She's definitely fitting right in as a Murphy in that she couldn't look more Irish if she were drunk and made out of potatoes. I mostly won out, though. VICTORY!! And it was easy to get into a schedule. During school we spent every Tuesday and Thursday together while kid 2 was in preschool making art history, and kid 1, of course, in 1st grade. Kid 3 and I would clean and do laundry... go to the gym or Target and grab a Starbucks and go look at all the cute infant fashions. We would smile and laugh, the sun beaming down on us with rays of happiness and giggles.
And then it was May.
School ended.
I no longer have my Tuesday and Thursday adventures alone with the baby. Now I just have Monday - Sunday shouting, screaming, and whining. It didn't help matters that the first couple of weeks of summer break were filled with rainy indoor adventures. The girls were bored and it is, apparently, my job to fix this problem. Only every idea I come up with is shot down like a clay pigeon. My day is filled with "Mom! Watch THIS!!" which is usually followed by a time-out, a band-aid, or applause. Everything I put away is immediately taken back out to be played with because toys are not interesting until they have been placed back on the shelf. Dress up consists of taking all of the clothes off the hangers and dumping them on the floor - this normally happens right after I have put all of the laundry away. Art projects with glue and scissors become the "hairdresser" game. What happened to my normal children? The baby suddenly needs to be sitting up when she's lying down, lying down when she's sitting up, picked up when she's tired and put down when she's awake and no matter what - NEEDS me to be in her line of sight at all times.
So my house is a cluttered mess, which is driving me absolutely MAD! I'd get a Roomba to do the vacuuming, but there's only like 1 sq. foot of exposed floor throughout most of the day. There are earwigs EVERYWHERE! In the mailbox, in my shoes, on the ceiling... how do they stay up there!? My plants have fruit flies in the soil and they might be the single most annoying bug on the planet... next to the house fly. Although I don't expect ot be having a problem with them anymore... I chased a fly for 30 minutes with the vacuum, finally sucked it up and then just when it was really freaked out - I released it so that it would go and tell all of the other flies about the crazy lady with the fly sucking machine in the house on the hill. I don't expect to see anymore houseflies.
One just landed on my arm as I typed that. DAMN! Stupid daredevil flies.
And just when there might be one single moment of peace during the day, there will inevitabley be a HUGE diaper that has exploded all over everything. So now here I am... in the closet... hiding like a coward. Running like Dr. Frankenstein from my own selfish creation while they shout at me about how badly we need Wonderhangers or Oxyclean. Stupid infomercials.
I need a vacation! And I'm taking one! And I can't WAIT!!
Of course I'm really gonna miss these little buggers while I'm gone.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
My Little Savant
I am currently writing two blogs because there are people who would actually like to hear what is going on with us as a family without having to weed through my ramblings about myself. I had not, however, considered the fact that I might encounter a crossover blog. One that is funny and relevant to my ramblings as a self-obsessed, crazy person, and one that is also based on my child. I actually sat here and stared at the screen for a moment... which do I pick? Where do I go with this blog? Do I make it a cute, short and to-the-point blog in my family section, or do I go in an entirely different direction and put it in my ramblings.
I did mention that I'm a self-obsessed, crazy person, right? Well, there's your answer and here we are. That doesn't mean that you won't see these same pictures in my family blog, but I had to write about it here - it's too funny.
Not, too long ago I went to my daughter's preschool to meet with her teachers. I'm always anxious about these meetings. Fearful of what judgment has been built up over the last few months... What phrases my daughter has repeated to the other 3-year-olds... or worse... her teachers. It doesn't help that this preschool is in my church and I actually go to church with some of the teachers there and a lot of the parents. So a meeting of this caliber is a bit terrifying. To add insult to injury, they make you sit in the little, tiny chairs so your eyes are almost level to the edge of the table... you're small and helpless, ready for your criticism. I'll admit I tend to be a bit overly dramatic, but don't think your kids don't talk at school! My 6 year-old came home and told me that one of her classmates' parents (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) sit naked together in the hot tub. They talk, my friends. Oh yes. You just don't know it.
So I'm sitting in my teeny chair looking like Kareem Abdul Jabar on the bench - sitting with my knees up to my ears, trying not talk too much and it turns out that the news isn't so bad. It's never, EVER as bad as I make it out in my head... one of the benefits of being dramatic. Some of it is actually pretty good. For example - she's only one of two kids in her class that can write her name. WONDERFUL! And, apparently she's a very gifted artist - all her people have torsos. Amazing. I realize you probably don't think this is a big deal. In fact, I shared that sentiment until I was shown the other kids' pictures of bubbles with arms and legs shooting out of them - no necks, no bodies... just giant, freak heads on sticks. Then I was shown Mallory's little people with heads and necks and bodies with feet and eyelashes and fingers... and hands... all the little details you expect a drawing of a human to have. Pretty cool! (She doesn't get any of that from me - I still draw bubbles with legs.) Whatever was said in the rest of the meeting, I'm not sure. I was just so impressed with her torso drawings.
After that I kept looking forward to the art projects that she might bring home to see what kind of inspirational artwork she would come up with on her own, without the influence of her older sister or me drawing next to her (of course I'm probably bringing her down). What kinds of masterpieces would our little smarty come up with to impress us? Of course most of what she brought home after that were projects where they dipped marbles in paint and rolled them around on paper or a similar project with sponges cut into shapes. Nothing remarkable... nothing, that is, until the following picture was sent home:
Artistic Genius!! To be honest I never really get abstract art anyway, so it might just be that it's beyond my comprehension... I can't be sure... A broken machine? I don't even know where it came from... we don't have one of those that we keep on hand. Maybe she's making a political statement. Can three-year-olds be poignant? Well if you look at my daughter's artwork then you'll know the answer is, YES. Yes, they can.
That's not it, though. The other day I was walking down the hallway at church when my husband pointed out her class' artwork hanging on the wall. They were drawing pictures of dandelions and then saying the things they had wished for. I took pictures of a couple of the other childrens' wishes, too:
Abby wants a dinosaur or a dog. Those are understandable wishes. I love dogs. And who didn't want to go to Jurassic Park... before the fences failed and the dinosaurs ate everyone? I know I did! I wouldn't say it's the work of a genius, but it's not bad.
Molly would like to go to Chuck E. Cheese. I get that. They have games there... and beer... I'd take her. Still... where's the message, Molly? Were you even really trying?
Then we have Mallory - my little prodigy:
Just in case you can't read that, I took a close up...
Just think about that for a moment... A stick made out of rope, indeed.
Indeed, Mallory.
I did mention that I'm a self-obsessed, crazy person, right? Well, there's your answer and here we are. That doesn't mean that you won't see these same pictures in my family blog, but I had to write about it here - it's too funny.
Not, too long ago I went to my daughter's preschool to meet with her teachers. I'm always anxious about these meetings. Fearful of what judgment has been built up over the last few months... What phrases my daughter has repeated to the other 3-year-olds... or worse... her teachers. It doesn't help that this preschool is in my church and I actually go to church with some of the teachers there and a lot of the parents. So a meeting of this caliber is a bit terrifying. To add insult to injury, they make you sit in the little, tiny chairs so your eyes are almost level to the edge of the table... you're small and helpless, ready for your criticism. I'll admit I tend to be a bit overly dramatic, but don't think your kids don't talk at school! My 6 year-old came home and told me that one of her classmates' parents (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) sit naked together in the hot tub. They talk, my friends. Oh yes. You just don't know it.
So I'm sitting in my teeny chair looking like Kareem Abdul Jabar on the bench - sitting with my knees up to my ears, trying not talk too much and it turns out that the news isn't so bad. It's never, EVER as bad as I make it out in my head... one of the benefits of being dramatic. Some of it is actually pretty good. For example - she's only one of two kids in her class that can write her name. WONDERFUL! And, apparently she's a very gifted artist - all her people have torsos. Amazing. I realize you probably don't think this is a big deal. In fact, I shared that sentiment until I was shown the other kids' pictures of bubbles with arms and legs shooting out of them - no necks, no bodies... just giant, freak heads on sticks. Then I was shown Mallory's little people with heads and necks and bodies with feet and eyelashes and fingers... and hands... all the little details you expect a drawing of a human to have. Pretty cool! (She doesn't get any of that from me - I still draw bubbles with legs.) Whatever was said in the rest of the meeting, I'm not sure. I was just so impressed with her torso drawings.
After that I kept looking forward to the art projects that she might bring home to see what kind of inspirational artwork she would come up with on her own, without the influence of her older sister or me drawing next to her (of course I'm probably bringing her down). What kinds of masterpieces would our little smarty come up with to impress us? Of course most of what she brought home after that were projects where they dipped marbles in paint and rolled them around on paper or a similar project with sponges cut into shapes. Nothing remarkable... nothing, that is, until the following picture was sent home:
Artistic Genius!! To be honest I never really get abstract art anyway, so it might just be that it's beyond my comprehension... I can't be sure... A broken machine? I don't even know where it came from... we don't have one of those that we keep on hand. Maybe she's making a political statement. Can three-year-olds be poignant? Well if you look at my daughter's artwork then you'll know the answer is, YES. Yes, they can.
That's not it, though. The other day I was walking down the hallway at church when my husband pointed out her class' artwork hanging on the wall. They were drawing pictures of dandelions and then saying the things they had wished for. I took pictures of a couple of the other childrens' wishes, too:
Abby wants a dinosaur or a dog. Those are understandable wishes. I love dogs. And who didn't want to go to Jurassic Park... before the fences failed and the dinosaurs ate everyone? I know I did! I wouldn't say it's the work of a genius, but it's not bad.
Molly would like to go to Chuck E. Cheese. I get that. They have games there... and beer... I'd take her. Still... where's the message, Molly? Were you even really trying?Then we have Mallory - my little prodigy:
Just in case you can't read that, I took a close up...
Just think about that for a moment... A stick made out of rope, indeed.
Indeed, Mallory.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
It's Not Easy Being Green
Paper or plastic no more... although I haven't been asked that question in years. I haven't been asked that question in so long that I was surprised to learn grocery stores still carry paper bags. Of course in every commercial you watch the woman (always a woman... I guess the grocery store has too many colors and bright lights for men to be successful grocery shoppers) carry her groceries in one, MAYBE two, but typically all of her groceries will fit into one, paper bag. I suppose it does look much nicer on TV than 400 plastic bags would. Is that an exaggeration? NO. Maybe... Okay YES it's an exaggeration, they don't actually give you 400 bags, but it's close! ATTENTION GROCERY BAGGERS: You don't need to separate EVERYTHING! I hate getting home from grocery store to find that they have placed a pack of gum and a card in one giant bag. What the Hell!? Does that really need it's own bag? If so, just hand it to me and I'll put it in my purse. I went to Wal-mart with my kids and bought 5 items... 5 not big, toiletry-type, not-misshapen items and the woman gave me 2 bags. What the? Seriously?
What it must be like to travel with these people! How many suitcases do you bring with you?? I mean, really! By the way you're bagging my groceries I can only imagine that you carry a separate suitcase with you for your shoes, shirts, pants, undergarments, socks and toiletries. And if one of those suitcases might appear half-way full... Get another suitcase!! Do you see my struggle with this logic?
So now I've got this cabinet that is dedicated to nothing, but plastic shopping bags... and it is FULL. I'm shoving them in there and it barely wants to close and I decide that this is ridiculous and I will no longer shop without my purchased, re-usable bags. The ones I keep buying and storing in my kitchen and then forgetting every time I go to the store. Those. From now on I will use those! If I don't forget them, of course. I've also stuffed handfuls of plastic bags inside the fabric bags so I can gradually dump them off in the recycling box at the store and take back my cabinet! I have so many plans for my new cabinet... what will I store in there!? Isn't my life exciting!?
So anyway, since I've dedicated myself to Earth-friendly grocery shopping I've learned something: Grocery store check-out people and baggers HATE these bags. HATE them. And as a result, they are starting to hate... ME. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate it when people hate me - I really identified with Pam on The Office when she said, "I don't even like thinking that Al Qaeda doesn't like me." Sad, but true. If they just got to know me...
You walk into the store with the bags and immediately everyone lazers in on you with their hate vision. "Great" they think to themselves... "This lady again." I know they're thinking this because I have yet to see anyone else carrying these bags. They make inaudible comments under their breath when they hand over my bags to the bagger. I get why they have a problem with this at Wal-mart, but have yet to understand it at Kroger or Food City. I've actually stopped going to Food City all together because the people there are just rude... and they quit carrying all my favorite things, but that's a different rant all together. I now drive an extra mile to Kroger, where they still hate me, but at least they hate me while smiling.
You see, at Wal-mart the check out person is also the bagger. And, at all of our locations (there are 3 Wal-marts within an 5 mile radius of my house) they don't have that conveyer belt that runs the groceries to a bagger person. Instead the check out person IS the bagger person and the bags hang from hooks next to the check out person and in some cases, they're on this spinning thing where the person can quickly go from bag to bag and then you are required to pull them and stick them in your cart (don't miss this step because that will also anger them... even though I don't remember signing up for this job) I learned the other day that they are timed on their scanning of items to make sure they don't suck, and since the check-out lines aren't set up to accomidate these bags, it makes it difficult for them to meet their quota. Okay! I get that! Thank you for telling me. Now here's where I say, "Sorry, but I don't care. I have already started making plans for my new cabinet." The lady actually told me that I could bring in the plastic bags to recycle them. Sorry - did we just eliminate reduce and reuse? Even my 6 year-old can tell you that it's not enough to just recycle! Don't tell me it's the same if I bring my bags in! Don't you know what it takes just to remember to bring in these bags!? And after I've say, "I just can't deal with the plastic bags anymore." The Wal-mart checker says, "I know! I use the fabric bags, too." Oooh... I see... it's only okay when YOU do it.
I give up.
But, I get why the Wal-mart folks get a little pissy. My bags can hinder their job performance. But I say "For Shame, Wal-mart." If you're not going to compensate for the bags, then why sell them in the first place? You want to encourage their use! How much money would your franchise save by not having to use plastic bags anymore? But that's Wal-mart. What about grocery stores? Here's what I see: You have the conveyer belt that slides the groceries away from the Checker to the Bagger - even if you're timed - my bags don't affect you. The Bagger doesn't have to separate every thing into coordinated bags - saving time! The Bagger doesn't have to use as many bags - saving time! I would think that if you're being timed, you'd look like a rock star! I don't see an issue. Would someone please explain to me why they still give me the furry eye-ball when I hand over my bags? Do they hate Earth? Does it disrupt their compulsive need to put everything into it's own bag? What is the problem here?
Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal if ONE other person in Knoxville would join me in my quest. Take bag your plastic bag cabinet! Think of the things you could put in there... place mats... storage containers... pots... or pans... or you could go in a totally different direction and put shoes or... or crayons and art supplies in there! The possibilites are endless! Then maybe we could all be hated together, or the grocery store people will get used to us and I can return to a harmonious relationship with them. Please. I can't stand the hate! Help me love Earth (and open up some cabinet space).
What it must be like to travel with these people! How many suitcases do you bring with you?? I mean, really! By the way you're bagging my groceries I can only imagine that you carry a separate suitcase with you for your shoes, shirts, pants, undergarments, socks and toiletries. And if one of those suitcases might appear half-way full... Get another suitcase!! Do you see my struggle with this logic?
So now I've got this cabinet that is dedicated to nothing, but plastic shopping bags... and it is FULL. I'm shoving them in there and it barely wants to close and I decide that this is ridiculous and I will no longer shop without my purchased, re-usable bags. The ones I keep buying and storing in my kitchen and then forgetting every time I go to the store. Those. From now on I will use those! If I don't forget them, of course. I've also stuffed handfuls of plastic bags inside the fabric bags so I can gradually dump them off in the recycling box at the store and take back my cabinet! I have so many plans for my new cabinet... what will I store in there!? Isn't my life exciting!?
So anyway, since I've dedicated myself to Earth-friendly grocery shopping I've learned something: Grocery store check-out people and baggers HATE these bags. HATE them. And as a result, they are starting to hate... ME. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate it when people hate me - I really identified with Pam on The Office when she said, "I don't even like thinking that Al Qaeda doesn't like me." Sad, but true. If they just got to know me...
You walk into the store with the bags and immediately everyone lazers in on you with their hate vision. "Great" they think to themselves... "This lady again." I know they're thinking this because I have yet to see anyone else carrying these bags. They make inaudible comments under their breath when they hand over my bags to the bagger. I get why they have a problem with this at Wal-mart, but have yet to understand it at Kroger or Food City. I've actually stopped going to Food City all together because the people there are just rude... and they quit carrying all my favorite things, but that's a different rant all together. I now drive an extra mile to Kroger, where they still hate me, but at least they hate me while smiling.
You see, at Wal-mart the check out person is also the bagger. And, at all of our locations (there are 3 Wal-marts within an 5 mile radius of my house) they don't have that conveyer belt that runs the groceries to a bagger person. Instead the check out person IS the bagger person and the bags hang from hooks next to the check out person and in some cases, they're on this spinning thing where the person can quickly go from bag to bag and then you are required to pull them and stick them in your cart (don't miss this step because that will also anger them... even though I don't remember signing up for this job) I learned the other day that they are timed on their scanning of items to make sure they don't suck, and since the check-out lines aren't set up to accomidate these bags, it makes it difficult for them to meet their quota. Okay! I get that! Thank you for telling me. Now here's where I say, "Sorry, but I don't care. I have already started making plans for my new cabinet." The lady actually told me that I could bring in the plastic bags to recycle them. Sorry - did we just eliminate reduce and reuse? Even my 6 year-old can tell you that it's not enough to just recycle! Don't tell me it's the same if I bring my bags in! Don't you know what it takes just to remember to bring in these bags!? And after I've say, "I just can't deal with the plastic bags anymore." The Wal-mart checker says, "I know! I use the fabric bags, too." Oooh... I see... it's only okay when YOU do it.
I give up.
But, I get why the Wal-mart folks get a little pissy. My bags can hinder their job performance. But I say "For Shame, Wal-mart." If you're not going to compensate for the bags, then why sell them in the first place? You want to encourage their use! How much money would your franchise save by not having to use plastic bags anymore? But that's Wal-mart. What about grocery stores? Here's what I see: You have the conveyer belt that slides the groceries away from the Checker to the Bagger - even if you're timed - my bags don't affect you. The Bagger doesn't have to separate every thing into coordinated bags - saving time! The Bagger doesn't have to use as many bags - saving time! I would think that if you're being timed, you'd look like a rock star! I don't see an issue. Would someone please explain to me why they still give me the furry eye-ball when I hand over my bags? Do they hate Earth? Does it disrupt their compulsive need to put everything into it's own bag? What is the problem here?
Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal if ONE other person in Knoxville would join me in my quest. Take bag your plastic bag cabinet! Think of the things you could put in there... place mats... storage containers... pots... or pans... or you could go in a totally different direction and put shoes or... or crayons and art supplies in there! The possibilites are endless! Then maybe we could all be hated together, or the grocery store people will get used to us and I can return to a harmonious relationship with them. Please. I can't stand the hate! Help me love Earth (and open up some cabinet space).
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Blogs From My Past, Part IV
Just as we're hitting Spring in full stride... a little tribute to Fall.
September 28, 2006 - Thursday
 | I love Fall... Autumn... whatever, I love it. There isn't anything you could say that could truly capture the essence of Fall. No witty quip or rhetorical slogan could ever sum up what it is to be "Autumn." I love the crisp bite in the air; the warm, sun-soaked afternoons and chilly evenings. This is the greatest time of year by far. Everything I love takes place in the Fall. Obviously I'm a nut when it comes to Halloween - the scary decorations, the movies, the Trick-or-Treating, the parties and ABOVE ALL - the costumes... oh...yeah... and my birthday. (That was my poor attempt and being coy) |
Blogs From My Past, Part III
This one doesn't really need an explanation.
August 30, 2006 - Wednesday
| I went to the dentist this morning for my semi-annual cleaning... and while I was sitting in the dentist's chair, waiting for her to come and poke at me, I saw a sign. It had a picture of horrible teeth and a question, "Do you have rampant cavities?" I'm sorry, what was that? RAMPANT cavities? The very idea is terrifying! Think about it... unmonitored cavities... just running wild and free... maybe they'll steal your purse... maybe they'll make your other teeth drink beer and smoke cigarettes... who knows! These aren't normal cavities... they're wild and crazy and getting bigger! I don't know why they feel like they have to use words like rampant to scare the crap out of us (sorry... scare the candy out of us... I'm trying to get my 4-year-old to stop saying crap) to sell the floride treatments... they should be ashamed. Why can't it just say, "do you have multiple cavities?" or something mild... Look Dentists and Hygenists of Amercia, you don't need to scare the candy out of us... we're already afraid of you! You in your rolly chair and your mask and your blinding light of torture. You sit up there with your magnified, judgement filled eyes... leaning us back and lowering our chairs to a state of submission just reaffirming your alpha status. Then, just because you can... you ask us questions and then stick hooks and knives in our mouth so we can't respond... Do you know what that does to a person like me!? It's Hell I tell you, HELL!!! I just sit there trying to talk around your massive mirror that you keep wiping on my cheek... get your own cheek! You giant eyed monster! Of course after we're scrapped and beaten you give us presents of toothpaste,a toothbrush and a cute little dental floss that you can stick in your purse. How can I hate you after you have offered me peace in the form of oral care products? And then the Dentist comes in and she makes the easiest money of her life... she pokes a couple of teeth... pretends like maybe she's counting something and the whole time telling me... "My, you have very pretty teeth... I can't imagine you've had to have much dental work, have you?" I blush, "thank you." I say, "I've had mostly orthodontal work done." (This is a conversation we have every time because she never remembers me...) but how can I hate you after you've showered me with compliments and oohed and aahed over my pearlies? And so I leave... unsure of how to feel... abused or flattered? They spanked me into submission, stuck things in my mouth while I was trying to talk, kept squirting water in my eyes, the sadistic bastards! But then made me feel wonderful and pretty... But I left there feeling pretty damn good. Not because they complimented me or, in all reality the cleaning was pretty uneventful... I left feeling so great because no matter what's going on in my life and I can feel good that I do not have rampant cavities. |
Blogs From My Past, Part II
This blog is from costume shopping before my 30th birthday Halloween party. This was a special day for me so I'm copying it over:
October - 2006
It's Better Than 60...
I went to a Halloween Warehouse yesterday with my best friend, Lindsay. She was very stressed out about not yet having the perfect Halloween costume in mind, and like me, was giving in to buying a pre-made costume. We actually did find the perfect costume. A tavern wench, which is basically a short leiderhosen skirt with a petticoat. It's very "St. Paulie Girl" and very cute so she purchased a blonde braided wig to go with it. Up until we found the costume, Lindsay was very distraught and not at all feeling the holiday spirit - pun intended. Finally we spied this very appropriate costume and snatched it from the shelf. It had all of the required elements - it was not frumpy, it had a male counterpart for her husband and it wasn't a fairy. It also had the bonus of being a hostess-esque costume, so assuming it fit it was perfect. Off we were to the dressing room.
For a costume place, they really dropped the ball in the dressing room department. Lindsay was forced to try on the costume in a tall, box-like structure with a torn shower curtain, hanging lazily over the opening. Standing outside of the "dressing room" I have now become the shower curtain as I stretch to pull up the draping corners to keep onlookers from peering at her goodies. Unbeknownst to Lindsay, I'm occasionally dropping the curtain in order to sip from my Latte as I act as a barricade for my naked friend. I finally am asked to assist with the zipper and offer an opinion. It was super and I said so. I really liked it. She was hesitant to exit the dressing room to peak in the mirror, however I explained to her if she couldn't wear it out of a dressing room she wasn't going to be able to wear it in front of 100 of our closest friends.
While I was waiting for Lindsay, a couple came up to try on their costume - a bowling ball and pin that says "spare me" on the front. Not a costume I would have chosen, but I'll admit it got a giggle out of me. Maybe I would have liked it better if the woman was the pin and not the ball. Anway, when Lindsay sprang from the dressing room looking like Gretle after her 21st birthday, they oohed and aahed over how much they liked it. Of course we then ventured on to talk about "The Party." As I said, "well that Saturday is my 30th birthday, so.." I was interrupted... "You're not 30!" The bowling pin said. I looked at his female counterpart and laughed and said, "I think you're required to say that." Technically he was right... I'm not 30.... I'm 29. But at that point it occurred to me... is this what people feel they have to say when they think you're old. I figured the couple was at least in their late 20's if not 30's so I was surprised by his shock at my age. Is turning 30 or any number above 30 kind of like hearing someone weighs over 200 pounds? If someone says to me, "I weigh 220 pounds" and they're not 6ft tall or a man the first thing I'm probably going to say is "You're not 220 pounds! No way." Which basically tells that person that 220 pounds means you're a fat ass and up until this moment I didn't realize you were such a fat ass.
I know that by saying this we think we've offered this fat person some sort of solace. We think we've convinced them that we never really figured they were fat. When actually our act of surprise does more harm than good by letting them know what we really think of their actual weight and how we will look at them from now on. We would actually do less damage if we just said, "oh okay." and left it at that.
So, knowing this, I've become very excited about reaching this personal milestone. If anything it'll give me a chance to make people really uncomfortable when they act so surprised that I'm "so old." But in the grand scheme of things, turning 30 is not a big deal. My mom just turned 60! That crazy kitten! Now try dealing with that one...She told me the other day that they don't even market beauty products to women in their 60's. There are skin regiments for every age group through your 50's... when you turn 60 they stop. They've just decided there is no help for you now and may God be with you. After hearing that - 30's a piece of cake. And as I've said before, who can be upset about having a birthday when you're going to have an awesome party!? 13 days!!! Be ready!
October - 2006
It's Better Than 60...
I went to a Halloween Warehouse yesterday with my best friend, Lindsay. She was very stressed out about not yet having the perfect Halloween costume in mind, and like me, was giving in to buying a pre-made costume. We actually did find the perfect costume. A tavern wench, which is basically a short leiderhosen skirt with a petticoat. It's very "St. Paulie Girl" and very cute so she purchased a blonde braided wig to go with it. Up until we found the costume, Lindsay was very distraught and not at all feeling the holiday spirit - pun intended. Finally we spied this very appropriate costume and snatched it from the shelf. It had all of the required elements - it was not frumpy, it had a male counterpart for her husband and it wasn't a fairy. It also had the bonus of being a hostess-esque costume, so assuming it fit it was perfect. Off we were to the dressing room.
For a costume place, they really dropped the ball in the dressing room department. Lindsay was forced to try on the costume in a tall, box-like structure with a torn shower curtain, hanging lazily over the opening. Standing outside of the "dressing room" I have now become the shower curtain as I stretch to pull up the draping corners to keep onlookers from peering at her goodies. Unbeknownst to Lindsay, I'm occasionally dropping the curtain in order to sip from my Latte as I act as a barricade for my naked friend. I finally am asked to assist with the zipper and offer an opinion. It was super and I said so. I really liked it. She was hesitant to exit the dressing room to peak in the mirror, however I explained to her if she couldn't wear it out of a dressing room she wasn't going to be able to wear it in front of 100 of our closest friends.
While I was waiting for Lindsay, a couple came up to try on their costume - a bowling ball and pin that says "spare me" on the front. Not a costume I would have chosen, but I'll admit it got a giggle out of me. Maybe I would have liked it better if the woman was the pin and not the ball. Anway, when Lindsay sprang from the dressing room looking like Gretle after her 21st birthday, they oohed and aahed over how much they liked it. Of course we then ventured on to talk about "The Party." As I said, "well that Saturday is my 30th birthday, so.." I was interrupted... "You're not 30!" The bowling pin said. I looked at his female counterpart and laughed and said, "I think you're required to say that." Technically he was right... I'm not 30.... I'm 29. But at that point it occurred to me... is this what people feel they have to say when they think you're old. I figured the couple was at least in their late 20's if not 30's so I was surprised by his shock at my age. Is turning 30 or any number above 30 kind of like hearing someone weighs over 200 pounds? If someone says to me, "I weigh 220 pounds" and they're not 6ft tall or a man the first thing I'm probably going to say is "You're not 220 pounds! No way." Which basically tells that person that 220 pounds means you're a fat ass and up until this moment I didn't realize you were such a fat ass.
I know that by saying this we think we've offered this fat person some sort of solace. We think we've convinced them that we never really figured they were fat. When actually our act of surprise does more harm than good by letting them know what we really think of their actual weight and how we will look at them from now on. We would actually do less damage if we just said, "oh okay." and left it at that.
So, knowing this, I've become very excited about reaching this personal milestone. If anything it'll give me a chance to make people really uncomfortable when they act so surprised that I'm "so old." But in the grand scheme of things, turning 30 is not a big deal. My mom just turned 60! That crazy kitten! Now try dealing with that one...She told me the other day that they don't even market beauty products to women in their 60's. There are skin regiments for every age group through your 50's... when you turn 60 they stop. They've just decided there is no help for you now and may God be with you. After hearing that - 30's a piece of cake. And as I've said before, who can be upset about having a birthday when you're going to have an awesome party!? 13 days!!! Be ready!
Blogs From My Past
I used to only blog on MySpace... What!? There was a space for it, so I used it. Anyway, there are a couple of blogs on there - 80 in all - and some of them just sort of disappear forever when they get to be too old. You have to know what the dates are to access them. Crazy! So I'm poking through those old blogs and looking for any that I find particularly funny and reposting on here. If you have ever read my blog on MySpace, then I apologize as this will be review for you... but I'm just going to post a few. For fun. So here's the first (warning! Adult content... it is spam after all):
More Work Spam Yay!
Some of you already know from my previous blogs that I deal with a lot of email spam at work. Like around 2,000 spam messages per day... and that is not an exaggeration... in some cases that's undershooting the number. The problem is that I don't get to have a "junk mail" box that I can just dump... I actually have to delete them one by one... well it's not quite that arduous of a task. Really I delete them in groups, but not before I view the subject of each one to verify that it's spam. As a result I'm presented with some very interesting email subjects that I like to share with you fine folks. I mean, honestly, why should this much fun be limited to just one person!? So I've selected a few of my favorites and, of course, have added my commentary to add to their awesomeness...
Here we go:
1) This is a two parter
1a. My new guy's dick is enormous, and my mouth is tiny.
1b. I just started dating a guy I like, but his pecker is on the small side and doesn't really satisfy me.
Comment: First of all - to 1a), what in the hell is anyone supposed to do about the size of your mouth? Do they make pills that make your mouth bigger?? I'm asking because due to the high quantity of emails I view regarding "make your penis bigger pills" I'm just wondering if that's the point here... do you want a bigger mouth or a guy with a teeny peeny? If the later is the case, I have a woman who is complaining about her guys "small pecker" a.k.a. 1b). She has aparantly been brought to us from 1985 where people still use the word pecker... maybe you two could trade. Then her giant vi-jay jay and your small mouth will both be satisfied... after long last. You're welcome.
2.) No more lonely nights! The new era of big pen!s begins!
Comment: Why do I care about big pens? OOOhhh... that's an exclamation point used as an I... that's supposed to say penis! There was an era of the small penis? So this new era is supposed to get you laid? Does this new era do anything about your face?
3.) PHENTERMINE, CODEINE, VALIUM, XANAX, Cheapest Generic Medication, Buy in Bulk and Save! free
Comment: Why am I buying in bulk to save if they're free? What kind of game are you running here!? Serioulsy... I'm confused... do I need to pay for the xanax or should I just buy in bulk?
4.) Women will never complain.
Comment: You may fall for the "big penis" email or the Spamed stock stips, but you don't seriously believe this do you? Does the product show you how to put your socks in the hamper?
6.) Looking for qualitative w4tches? Go to Prest1ge Repl1cas
Comment: Qualitative watches!? Thank Goodness. I've grown so tired of those stupid Quantitative watches. Oh... and by the way... you're spelling with numbers... that's only okay in text messaging or license plates.
7.) It's Berthas Girls Night Out again, how about it?
Comment: Bertha? That's the best name you could come up with? I'm supposed to be interested in what Bertha does on her night out? Is Bertha a farm animal? I think I'll pass.
8.) I was looking for a method to improve my size. By size, I mean overall length and width of my penis
Comment: Wow... well that went from vague to incredibly specific. If you were so ready to go there, then why didn't you just start there? Why not just come out the gate being specific? Why do you have to be such a penis enlarging tease?
9.) Most popular online apothecary.
Comment: Somebody got their Translating English for Creatively wording Spam word of the Day Calendar.
10.) Games save lives
Comments: How? By keeping all the fat kids too slow to jump out of the way of your car that you're driving under the influence of bulk perscription drugs in the house?
11.) I fill her whole mouth now.
Comment: Oh wait, Dude... I don't know how to tell you this, but she totally doesn't like it. Apparently she's now unhappy with her tiny mouth... you might want to lay off the penis enlargement and talk to her...
12.) 94% of women agree a larger penis is a visual turn-on
Comment: What women were polled for this survey? Did they used to be men? Because no woman finds a penis to be a visual turn-on... I don't care how big it is. Penises are not attractive at any size. I think you'll find that 94% of women find abs to be a visual turn-on... maybe larger wallets... but not penises.
13.) Free games for Kids
Comment: Gee, thanks Mr. Pedophile! You're not going to make me wear that outfit again, are you? I guess I shouldn't complain... by giving free games, you are apparently saving lives.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
My Thoughts and My Cell Phone
I recently discovered a feature on my cell phone. I'm exploring it trying to find things to like about it because my contract doesn't expire until September and I really want a Blackberry... okay I really want an iPhone, but since Neal already has one I can only anticipate the end of our relationship if another one is brought into the home, so Blackberry it is. This is for one of 2 reasons: 1) We would completely stop talking to each other because we would constantly be messing with new aps and Facebooking or 2) We would constantly fight because I accidentally took Neal's phone instead of my own, or vice versa, because we are both that absent-minded. I already have a Mac and an iPod... I can live without the iPhone. Besides, if I did get one I'd be completely brought over to the "other side." The Apple side. Maybe I need the Blackberry to keep me grounded. So I've been touring the features on my current phone, trying to find reasons why it's SO COOL so I don't get completely irritated at all the buttons I have to push to send a simple text message. Stupid buttons! Anyway, I found a voice recorder. Now before you sigh like my 6-year-old and say, "duh" know that I know this is a common feature. It's just not one I'd used on my phone before... at least not on purpose. I've recorded conversations by accident at least a dozen times, but now I'm using it intentionally. I've decided every time I see something or have a random thought that I will say it into my phone and talk about it later. Lucky you!
Thought #1
Super Weightless? I was watching a Cover Girl commercial and was listening to Beyonce, Eva Longoria Parker and Elizabeth Banks spew very trendy, scripted lines about how awesome the make-up is and I began to wonder what happened to our language. Do people just use words to use them? So people use the word "super" instead of "very" and that's okay, but to call something super weightless... really? Can you be MORE weightless than weightless? Was Cover Girl so concerned with making their make-up appeal to all ages that they decided it was a good idea to make 3 successful women (ages 27, 33, and 35 - I checked) talk like 13-year olds? Why not just have them do the commercial in a text message? SPR W8L3SS! I wonder if Elizabeth Banks knew when she signed up to do the commercial that you were going to make her sound like an idiot? Super Light... that would have worked, but Super Weightless? Dumb. It's just dumb.
Thought #2
Why do old people wear their nightgown to the mailbox? I was driving home from the gym and I saw a woman who was in her late 70's... maaaayybe early 80's getting her mail. It was around 11am and she was wearing a knee-length nightgown, matching robe and slippers. First of all... the fact that she was still in her jammies at 11am when you know she got up at 4:30 is awesome, but she wore them out on the street - a well traveled street - without a thought. Then it occurred to me that the lady down the street from me also gathers her mail in her jammies... but she's one of those ageless people that could be anywhere from 40 to 75 - I have no idea. The point is that older ladies have a tendency to grab their mail in their jammies - - I don't think I've ever seen an old man get his mail. I want to do this! I want to walk out of my house and not care if I have a bra on. I want to not care about walking outside in what are OBVIOUSLY night clothes at lunchtime. First I need jammies... I just sleep in t-shirts and shorts, mostly, so I would need more pj-like attire. I guess what I really just need is a house coat - a frilly, silky one with lots of lace and doilyesque features. And old lady slippers - the spongy, terry cloth ones. Although, with all the efforts I take in trying not to look like I'm growing old... maybe I should hold off until I've gone over the hill and am back on the flat.
Thought #3
A guy on the radio used the word "persistencey." I don't think this one needs an explanation, but I'll give one anyway. Persistencey. I would cut the guy some slack for making up words if he had caught himself, but if you're on a nationally syndicated show and you're interviewing someone... shouldn't you know that this is not a word? Persist. Persistent. Persistently. Persistence - yes. But persistencey? Like your persistencey in that situation was super weightless?
That's it?
I only used this feature 3 times!?
I felt like I was using it all the time. Anyway, I might have a crappy phone (1 - 1 - B, 2 - 2 - E, 2 - 2 - 2 - C, 1 - A, 8 - 8 - U) but at least I can find a use for it that keeps me entertained.
Thought #1
Super Weightless? I was watching a Cover Girl commercial and was listening to Beyonce, Eva Longoria Parker and Elizabeth Banks spew very trendy, scripted lines about how awesome the make-up is and I began to wonder what happened to our language. Do people just use words to use them? So people use the word "super" instead of "very" and that's okay, but to call something super weightless... really? Can you be MORE weightless than weightless? Was Cover Girl so concerned with making their make-up appeal to all ages that they decided it was a good idea to make 3 successful women (ages 27, 33, and 35 - I checked) talk like 13-year olds? Why not just have them do the commercial in a text message? SPR W8L3SS! I wonder if Elizabeth Banks knew when she signed up to do the commercial that you were going to make her sound like an idiot? Super Light... that would have worked, but Super Weightless? Dumb. It's just dumb.
Thought #2
Why do old people wear their nightgown to the mailbox? I was driving home from the gym and I saw a woman who was in her late 70's... maaaayybe early 80's getting her mail. It was around 11am and she was wearing a knee-length nightgown, matching robe and slippers. First of all... the fact that she was still in her jammies at 11am when you know she got up at 4:30 is awesome, but she wore them out on the street - a well traveled street - without a thought. Then it occurred to me that the lady down the street from me also gathers her mail in her jammies... but she's one of those ageless people that could be anywhere from 40 to 75 - I have no idea. The point is that older ladies have a tendency to grab their mail in their jammies - - I don't think I've ever seen an old man get his mail. I want to do this! I want to walk out of my house and not care if I have a bra on. I want to not care about walking outside in what are OBVIOUSLY night clothes at lunchtime. First I need jammies... I just sleep in t-shirts and shorts, mostly, so I would need more pj-like attire. I guess what I really just need is a house coat - a frilly, silky one with lots of lace and doilyesque features. And old lady slippers - the spongy, terry cloth ones. Although, with all the efforts I take in trying not to look like I'm growing old... maybe I should hold off until I've gone over the hill and am back on the flat.
Thought #3
A guy on the radio used the word "persistencey." I don't think this one needs an explanation, but I'll give one anyway. Persistencey. I would cut the guy some slack for making up words if he had caught himself, but if you're on a nationally syndicated show and you're interviewing someone... shouldn't you know that this is not a word? Persist. Persistent. Persistently. Persistence - yes. But persistencey? Like your persistencey in that situation was super weightless?
That's it?
I only used this feature 3 times!?
I felt like I was using it all the time. Anyway, I might have a crappy phone (1 - 1 - B, 2 - 2 - E, 2 - 2 - 2 - C, 1 - A, 8 - 8 - U) but at least I can find a use for it that keeps me entertained.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Cookies!?
Oh why, WHY must the girl across the street be a Girl Scout!? Why do parents have to encourage positive socialization and skill building by letting their daughters join the Girl Scouts? Don't you know that I do not need any more cookies in my house? Damn you, Girl Scouts and your chocolaty-peanut buttery goodness. We've already plowed through 2 boxes and I haven't even opened the thin mints in the freezer. Aw boo. That on top of the 4 jars of chunky blue cheese sitting in my fridge and I'm screwed. Just sign me up for my fat pants right now. Is it not bad enough that I had a baby four months ago, but you have to taunt me with girl scout cookies and blue cheese? What am I, Job!?
I was a girl scout once. Actually, since I was in the 3rd grade we could only be "Brownies." I don't think they have Brownies anymore... anyway, your uniform was... well... brown, of course and looked like a drab version of the Girl Scout uniform which was green and perky. I'm sure there's some symbolism in there somewhere. I honestly don't remember much of being a Brownie. I think we went on a camping trip. I remember more about being an Indian Princess when I was around 6 years old, than I do about being a Brownie... probably because they gave us feathers for doing things (like being able to stand up and and say everyone's name... they don't require a lot from you when you're six) and you attached them to a stick. Colorful feathers on a stick totally trumps a sash with badges. I don't think they have Indian Princesses anymore, either. I wonder if they've been sent to the PC graveyard... Buried in the 80's with terms like "Indian Style." Remember when everyone just threw out Indian Style like it wasn't totally offensive? What other racist terminology have we done away with from our childhood? Oh! Indian giver was another one! What did we have against Indians anyway? It's not like it was 1820... what were we all at Wounded Knee or something? How does something like that make it all the way to the 1980's before someone said, "ya know... maybe this is a bit dated."
Anyway, back to what I was saying... At the end of the 3rd grade year we had a graduation ceremony where we crossed the threshold and were given our green sashes to symbolize our passage from young-girldome into older young-girldome. That's the only thing I really remember about being a Brownie and that's probably because the ceremony was at my house. I don't even remember how I received a single badge. Honestly I don't remember if I received a badge... but surely I had at least one! So what do you do in Girl Scouts, anyway!? I know that in Boy Scouts my brothers learned how to tie knots and built pinewood derby cars and raced them... could Girl Scouts just be like an undercover child labor operation to sell cookies?? Those stupid cookies... they aren't even that good!!! Why do I feel compelled to buy them and eat them in large quantities? It's a good thing I finally got my new running shoes... I was running out of bandages for all the damage my old shoes were doing and need to burn off these cookies! It takes 10 seconds to down a Tagalong and 45 minutes on a treadmill at 6 mph to negate it's affect on my thighs. That is not balanced. I vote we bring back Indian Princesses and teach them to off the Girl Scouts when they try to sell us cookies. Okay, maybe not OFF them... they are children after all... maybe just hog tie 'em... that's a skill.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
What's So Funny?
The Lord works in mysterious ways? There is so much truth in that statement, however I find sometimes the Lord is REALLY obvious. You say you want to be more patient, and you will find yourself in a given number of situations that will test you to the limit. So while I have spent a lot of time the last few weeks taking deep breaths, biting my tongue and banging my head against the wall, I'd much rather let all that go (trying to be more positive was last years resolution... how am I doing so far?) and focus on something better. So, here you go...
Funny things I have witnessed recently:
1) The Coupon Suzy commercial. I LOVE commercials where everyone completely overacts! Have you ever been to the grocery store and had the person checking you out say, "That'll be One Forty?" NO. Who would say that? They would say, One Hundred and Forty dollars because they're not idiots... okay wait, they might be, but even they know that's stupid because it just is. And have you ever made an over-exaggerated grimace at that person? A grimace similar to one you might make if someone told you that Diane is in a bad mood because she walked in on her husband having an affair with a billy goat and a cucumber? That face - the one you're making right now picturing that conversation? No... because by now I'm pretty sure you know how much groceries cost. And don't get me started on Suzy's voice! It makes me want to punch her in the teeth it's so annoying. I laugh every time I watch that commercial because it's SO absurd!
2) Kathy Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb try to host a talk show. Did I just mention absurd? Are there no standards regarding what people will put on television? Who are the jackasses handing out talkshows?? All I have to say is, "poor Hoda." I don't know what bet she lost to take this job, but I hope it was worth it. Maybe she's gettin' paid. I don' know what she's takin' home, but it's not enough. There's never enough money on the table to ask you to flush your career down the toilet. Is Kathy Lee retarded? The only time she stops effing around is to push her CD - which I'm sure you've guessed is Horrible! Kathy Lee you are just not a diva. How do I know? I've never seen one drag queen dressed like you.
If you haven't seen it, you have to watch that show (just once though) to see how hysterical it is, but only in ways that it never intended to be. It's funny in the way that the story about Diane's husband is funny.
3) Did anyone else see Ryan Seacrest try to high-5 a blind guy?
4) Picture this: You've been working in your office (which is a computer in a giant playroom) and you decide to go upstairs and get a drink. On your way upstairs you hear the Hannah Montana game on the Wii and giggling. Expecting to find a happy 6 year-old bopping around the living room, you peek in and see a grown man in pajamas - remote in one hand, nunchuck in the other - trying to dance Hannah through her Paris concert so his daughter can perform in Rome. I want you all to know that I tried very hard to video tape it, but my husband was very adamant about there being no physical evidence of this event. It's a shame, too... I could have gotten us on Ellen with that footage! Can you say Youtube sensation?? And let me just say that with my husband's help, Hannah made it all the way from New York and around the world to Egypt and ending in Malibu. That's talent.
5) Technically I didn't witness this, but it's still hilarious. My mom works at a University in Austin and when they returned from winter break, they discovered that someone had thrown away something smelly and disgusting that stewed in the trashcan by the bathrooms for 2 weeks before anyone discovered it. So when my mom went to the bathroom she brought her spray with her (my mom is totally the kind of person that would have a spray in her office) to spray the area and make it smell nice. Okay nicer. She then went to the bathroom and while she was in there she had the made the unfortunate observation that someone had just pooped in the public bathroom (something my mom would NEVER do) and so she sprayed her spray in the bathroom as well. When she came out there was someone going into the bathroom. My mom has a horrible need to talk to strangers and justify her business... grocery store check out clerks, salvation army bell ringers, taxi drivers... people in line with her... the list goes one. Anyway, she tells the woman on her way into the bathroom in reference to the thing in the trash, "It's smelly, but I brought spray." The other woman said nothing and went on into the bathroom... she may have smiled, but like I said, I wasn't there. Anyway, it was at that moment that my mom realized that it now appeared as though she just told a total stranger that she just pooped in the bathroom - Again, something my poor, very considerate mom would never be caught dead doing under any circumstance... Ever. So because she has an incessant need to tell everyone her business, she became the lady who poops in the public bathroom and makes it smell so terrible that she has to bring her own spray. My poor mom. I'm going to send her more room spray.
Funny things I have witnessed recently:
1) The Coupon Suzy commercial. I LOVE commercials where everyone completely overacts! Have you ever been to the grocery store and had the person checking you out say, "That'll be One Forty?" NO. Who would say that? They would say, One Hundred and Forty dollars because they're not idiots... okay wait, they might be, but even they know that's stupid because it just is. And have you ever made an over-exaggerated grimace at that person? A grimace similar to one you might make if someone told you that Diane is in a bad mood because she walked in on her husband having an affair with a billy goat and a cucumber? That face - the one you're making right now picturing that conversation? No... because by now I'm pretty sure you know how much groceries cost. And don't get me started on Suzy's voice! It makes me want to punch her in the teeth it's so annoying. I laugh every time I watch that commercial because it's SO absurd!
2) Kathy Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb try to host a talk show. Did I just mention absurd? Are there no standards regarding what people will put on television? Who are the jackasses handing out talkshows?? All I have to say is, "poor Hoda." I don't know what bet she lost to take this job, but I hope it was worth it. Maybe she's gettin' paid. I don' know what she's takin' home, but it's not enough. There's never enough money on the table to ask you to flush your career down the toilet. Is Kathy Lee retarded? The only time she stops effing around is to push her CD - which I'm sure you've guessed is Horrible! Kathy Lee you are just not a diva. How do I know? I've never seen one drag queen dressed like you.
If you haven't seen it, you have to watch that show (just once though) to see how hysterical it is, but only in ways that it never intended to be. It's funny in the way that the story about Diane's husband is funny.
3) Did anyone else see Ryan Seacrest try to high-5 a blind guy?
4) Picture this: You've been working in your office (which is a computer in a giant playroom) and you decide to go upstairs and get a drink. On your way upstairs you hear the Hannah Montana game on the Wii and giggling. Expecting to find a happy 6 year-old bopping around the living room, you peek in and see a grown man in pajamas - remote in one hand, nunchuck in the other - trying to dance Hannah through her Paris concert so his daughter can perform in Rome. I want you all to know that I tried very hard to video tape it, but my husband was very adamant about there being no physical evidence of this event. It's a shame, too... I could have gotten us on Ellen with that footage! Can you say Youtube sensation?? And let me just say that with my husband's help, Hannah made it all the way from New York and around the world to Egypt and ending in Malibu. That's talent.
5) Technically I didn't witness this, but it's still hilarious. My mom works at a University in Austin and when they returned from winter break, they discovered that someone had thrown away something smelly and disgusting that stewed in the trashcan by the bathrooms for 2 weeks before anyone discovered it. So when my mom went to the bathroom she brought her spray with her (my mom is totally the kind of person that would have a spray in her office) to spray the area and make it smell nice. Okay nicer. She then went to the bathroom and while she was in there she had the made the unfortunate observation that someone had just pooped in the public bathroom (something my mom would NEVER do) and so she sprayed her spray in the bathroom as well. When she came out there was someone going into the bathroom. My mom has a horrible need to talk to strangers and justify her business... grocery store check out clerks, salvation army bell ringers, taxi drivers... people in line with her... the list goes one. Anyway, she tells the woman on her way into the bathroom in reference to the thing in the trash, "It's smelly, but I brought spray." The other woman said nothing and went on into the bathroom... she may have smiled, but like I said, I wasn't there. Anyway, it was at that moment that my mom realized that it now appeared as though she just told a total stranger that she just pooped in the bathroom - Again, something my poor, very considerate mom would never be caught dead doing under any circumstance... Ever. So because she has an incessant need to tell everyone her business, she became the lady who poops in the public bathroom and makes it smell so terrible that she has to bring her own spray. My poor mom. I'm going to send her more room spray.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Patience is a Virtue
It's horrible and nasty outside and since it's way too complicated to bundle up the kids and venture out into "The Day After Tomorrow" just get a starbucks and possible end up buying a whole bunch of baby items I simply do not need... I am staying in. I'm drinking over-the-counter Dunkin' Donuts coffee because I'm too lazy to make a latte. Serioulsy - it takes a lot of effort to steam milk. I'm trying to figure out what horrible virus or malware or stupid add-on has plagued my computer causing it to act out worse than a 12-year-old addicted to meth. Eh, at least it keeps me busy. Which would be a good thing if I didn't have 3 kids, a job that requires me to be online and laundry up to my ears.
Am I the only one surprised to learn that Healthful is actually proper English when referring to things?? I had no idea... in fact, I wasn't fully convinced that healthful wasn't another word that Rachel Ray had made up that had become so quickly adopted by society, like "yummo" and "EVOO." Apparently this is an actual word! Healthful. I always thought things were just healthy. How do you make it 32 years without ever knowing the word "healthful" existed? That's weird, right? What other variations of words exist that I'm unaware of? (Or since we're using proper English) of which I am unaware?
I've finally decided on a New Year's resolution. I'm resolving to be more patient. This is proving to be much more difficult than I expected. Although this will prove to be a useful trait with my kids, I'm really more concerned with being more patient with the world around me. In particular, the jackass that would prefer to see me plow into a retaining wall rather than let me merge onto the highway, speeding up when I speed up and then thinks it appropriate to honk when I get over anyway because I didn't feel like dying that day. I need to find more patience for that guy.
And for people who use words like "yummo" when the word "yummy" was already pushing my tolerance level... the ones who didn't go to culinary school that end up with 11 shows on the food network and somehow stumbles onto a talkshow of which the only person she's more qualified to host is Tyra Banks. This is made evident by here incessant need to refer to her audience as "kids" - which might be cute once in a while, but becomes like fingernails on a chalkboard with its gross overuse. And lets face it, if I were Rachel Ray's kid I'd weigh 400 pounds and would contastantly get beat up on the playground using words like "spoonula" and "stoup." Please don't mistake my annoyance with Rach as hate. I'm totally impressed with her clever 30 minute mini-meatloafs and some of her recipes totally kick ass... I just can't stand to look at her.... or hear her talk.
I'm off to tackle this huge mound of laundry that keeps giving me the furry eyeball... but before I do I will leave you with a conversation that took place in my house last night.
Mallory (3): I just hurt my butt.
Gwyneth(6): Ooooo! You just said B-U-T-T!
Mallory: NO I DIDN'T! I said Butt!!
Am I the only one surprised to learn that Healthful is actually proper English when referring to things?? I had no idea... in fact, I wasn't fully convinced that healthful wasn't another word that Rachel Ray had made up that had become so quickly adopted by society, like "yummo" and "EVOO." Apparently this is an actual word! Healthful. I always thought things were just healthy. How do you make it 32 years without ever knowing the word "healthful" existed? That's weird, right? What other variations of words exist that I'm unaware of? (Or since we're using proper English) of which I am unaware?
I've finally decided on a New Year's resolution. I'm resolving to be more patient. This is proving to be much more difficult than I expected. Although this will prove to be a useful trait with my kids, I'm really more concerned with being more patient with the world around me. In particular, the jackass that would prefer to see me plow into a retaining wall rather than let me merge onto the highway, speeding up when I speed up and then thinks it appropriate to honk when I get over anyway because I didn't feel like dying that day. I need to find more patience for that guy.
And for people who use words like "yummo" when the word "yummy" was already pushing my tolerance level... the ones who didn't go to culinary school that end up with 11 shows on the food network and somehow stumbles onto a talkshow of which the only person she's more qualified to host is Tyra Banks. This is made evident by here incessant need to refer to her audience as "kids" - which might be cute once in a while, but becomes like fingernails on a chalkboard with its gross overuse. And lets face it, if I were Rachel Ray's kid I'd weigh 400 pounds and would contastantly get beat up on the playground using words like "spoonula" and "stoup." Please don't mistake my annoyance with Rach as hate. I'm totally impressed with her clever 30 minute mini-meatloafs and some of her recipes totally kick ass... I just can't stand to look at her.... or hear her talk.
I'm off to tackle this huge mound of laundry that keeps giving me the furry eyeball... but before I do I will leave you with a conversation that took place in my house last night.
Mallory (3): I just hurt my butt.
Gwyneth(6): Ooooo! You just said B-U-T-T!
Mallory: NO I DIDN'T! I said Butt!!
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