My BFF'S daughter recently broke her arm; a compound fracture, bone broke through the skin, the whole nine, in a gymnastics accident. She called me in hysterics and could think of nothing except her poor baby and the pain she must have been enduring.
This made me think back to my time as a child, and how my father dealt with similar incidents. It was not with concern, gentle words, and hugs of sympathy. It was with brow beating maniacal yelling.
The first such incident does not involve me, but my older sister, who fell down our basement steps when she was around 9 or 10 years old, and broke her arm. Clearly broke her arm. The bone was not poking through the skin, but it looked as if she had two elbows. Possibly two and a half. I remember sitting at her feet, the mini-Einstein that I was, asking her if it hurt. That is exactly the reason why little sisters are so annoying.
My dad at first was unconvinced whether or not it was actually broken, and riddled her with a series of verifiable arm-breaking questions
Does it hurt
Can you move your fingers
Can you bend your arm
Can you stop holding it like that
Can you do a cartwheel
Can you write your name on this piece of paper
Can you flick the light switch on and off
Once he ascertained the situation, the rants began to flow.
Now how many times has daddy told you not to walk down the basement steps in your stocking feet? How many? How many times? I knew one of you kids was gonna end up at the bottom of those steps. I knew it. Geezus! Donna, call the doctor. Sis has gone and broken her arm.
He always made it seem as if we were all involved in an elaborate scheme to intentionally and seriously injure ourselves, in order to cause him vast amounts of pain and personal aggravation. Let me assure you ... it's a possibility.
My most memorable brush with Daddy Dearest was when I was 7 years old. It was the day before the last day of school. With summer so close, emotions were running high. Maybe this was the reason I decided to perform a new trick on the high bar at the school playground ...
Remember those bars? It was one lone bar, and you could hang upside down on it, or you could do spinning flips, involving one bent leg over the bar OR for the elite flipper, you could do it sitting on the bar with your legs straight down. OUCH. How in the sam hell did we ever do that without causing permanent physical damage to our lady parts?
Anyhow, I decided to attempt some fancy new flip and ended up doing a face plant in the asphalt. I still remember the look on the recess monitor's face when I walked up to her and said I think I'm bleeding. No shart, sunshine.
The nice school nurse applied the compress and my mother was called. I was taken to my pediatrician, who, along with two other nice nurses, physically restrained my screaming and kicking and spitting and thrashing self in order to inject a 17 inch long needle into said lip, in order to numb it for the 4 stitches I was about to receive. Not only that, but the doctor informed my mother that under no circumstances was I to participate in last day of school field day activities. Pearl Harbor to a 7 year old. I took it hard.
As we pulled into the driveway at home, my father came flying out the door like he'd just grown a set of wings, and I thought (just for a sec) that maybe this time he was so worried about me, that he's greeting me at the car. Well, I was WAY off.
What in the thunder were you doing? God gave you two @$#%$# legs to walk upright on this earth, not swing around like a @$@#$# monkey!
Mind you , as my dad is going on his little tirade, he himself is jumping around exactly like a @$#% monkey, he is shooting spittle through the air like a human irrigation pipe, his little comb over hair is standing straight up into the air, with all the jostling, his glasses have become askew and embarrassingly he has to adjust them in the middle of his hissy fit. In hindsight, it is thoroughly entertaining, and when I tell and re-tell and re-tell this story, I always add the physical comedy into it, because without it ... it's just not the same.
Today, I do my best to NOT be that parent. I try to be soothing, to empathize with the physical pain, and be a shoulder to cry on. But when we are on injury number 72 within the first 20 minutes of the day, I tend to lose my ability to sympathize. My empathy well has gone dry. And I find myself saying ...
I told you not to get the dog jacked up.
I told you to stop ramming around the couch like a mental patient.
I told you to not run through the yard with that stick.
I told you not to jump off anything of that height.
No matter what we do, it's almost inevitable. At some point, we do become our parents. And it is also just as inevitable, that our kids will survive us.
Post Script
Please don't feel sorry for me. I survived him and his tantrums and am one tough cookie because of my suck-it-up-soldier dad.
What have you done as a parent, that you said you would NEVER do? What did your parents did to you that you SWEAR you will never do to your kids? What is the craziest things your kids have done to hurt themselves? What have you told your kids not to do time and time again, but they do it anyway? The possibilities are endless and I want to read it all! POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
Showing newest 17 of 22 posts from September 2009. Show older posts
Showing newest 17 of 22 posts from September 2009. Show older posts
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
THE DUST BUNNIES WHO LIVE AT MY HOUSE ARE MULTIPLYING AT A TERRIFYING RATE, AND NOTHING DEFINITE, BUT THERE COULD BE ILLEGITIMATE ONES IN THE BUNCH
You know those people. You have those friends. The ones that worship at the altar of Windex and streak-free windows. The ones who vacuum. And dust. And empty the trash can before it smells. The ones who wipe the urine off the toilet seat. Every time.
These are the same ones who say, please don't mind my house ... it's a wreck! You see the obligatory coffee cup in the sink. The cup has clearly been rinsed and is nothing more than a well-placed prop. You look in the corner by the fireplace and there's one lone dust bunny. With his nervous shifty eyes. He knows he's not long for this world.
Maybe there are two dust bunnies in the corner. But they're just meeting for drinks ... totally casual. They are looking for love, but it's nothing serious. Why even bother? Because in the next sixty seconds, they'll be scooped up and tossed into the waste basket.
Who knows, maybe once inside the garbage bag they'll be within speaking distance ... there's a slight chance they could make a connection. But maybe one will be squished against the side, right next to the coffee grinds and the other one slips clear down to the bottom of the black banana. It's a crap shoot.
Well, at my house, there is no lone dust bunny. My dust bunnies have not only met for casual drinks behind the overstuffed chair sitting in the corner, a chair, which, by the way, has not been moved or vacuumed behind in well over a year, they have
dated exclusively for over 10 months
gotten married
given birth to at least 72,000 other dust bunnies
held 12,000 bar and bat mitzvahs
celebrated 19,000 christenings
conducted more brises (this is the plural of bris) than you can shake a bloody piece of foreskin at
welcomed and adopted numerous outsiders into the clan. They tell Neil that he may LOOK different but he is STILL one of them. By the by, Neil is a centipede thingy with a black and yellow striped face and 23 eyes. The dust bunnies ... a supreme model of tolerance. Their creed: We hope to exist in a world, where bugs and small nondescript balls of fuzz and hair can collect dust and allergens side-by-side bringing hope and goodwill to filth all over the globe.
Try and keep up people ... here's where it gets complicated.
separated (she looks at Neil with far too much interest)
reconciled (what was he thinking? I could never connect with a balding overweight bug)
separated again (how can she trust him after the Connie incident? She knows for a fact there's no way he was trying to revive her from a dust-induced asthma attack. No way)
divorced (she's a lesbian. That's it, she's definitely a lesbian)
remarried (He's right, I'm a lesbian, but I need someone to pay the house note)
and separated. (He's tired of looking like a moron in the front of the guys on the dust bowl team. There's no reason for those kinds of looks. None whatsover)
It's ... a nightmare.
This is what I am thinking about when I moved the chair this weekend to vacuum in preparation for my family's arrival at my daughter's birthday party
because if your family can't make you feel like you live like a filthy dirty nasty begging piece of weasel feces, who can?
and I saw them all (the dust bunnies) staring up at me with their little fuzzy faces, mixed in with pieces parts of long-deceased buggery. The bugs, well, they tried, but they never really did fit in. The suicide rate is like 99% for adoptive bugs in the dust bunny community. Another dirty little secret kept hidden by the man. Or should I say the maid? Or should I say the vacuum hose? Or should I say Pledge? Or should I say Old English? Seriously, what should I say?
I released my vacuum hose from its suckery holster and suctioned every last one of those dust magnets up. I did it without guilt. I did it without conscience. How could I, you ask? I'll tell you how.
Since I am too cheap to buy new vacuum cleaner bags, when a bag gets full, I just dump it all into a big green garbage bag, and this way I know, the dust bunnies will still be together. And happy. And most likely find their way back into my house. Probably catching a ride on the dog's butt. To find themselves once again behind the chair. In my living room. Where they belong. With the dead bugs.
At this blog we do not judge. We do not place blame. This is a FREE TO BE ME blog site. So spill it - what is your WORST unclean secret? How filthy are you able to go? Can you write notes to your significant other in the scum on the shower walls? I want to GASP with self-righteous indignation. Yes, I just contradicted myself. I won't gasp. Well, secretly I might. POST ALL THAT AND MORE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
These are the same ones who say, please don't mind my house ... it's a wreck! You see the obligatory coffee cup in the sink. The cup has clearly been rinsed and is nothing more than a well-placed prop. You look in the corner by the fireplace and there's one lone dust bunny. With his nervous shifty eyes. He knows he's not long for this world.
Maybe there are two dust bunnies in the corner. But they're just meeting for drinks ... totally casual. They are looking for love, but it's nothing serious. Why even bother? Because in the next sixty seconds, they'll be scooped up and tossed into the waste basket.
Who knows, maybe once inside the garbage bag they'll be within speaking distance ... there's a slight chance they could make a connection. But maybe one will be squished against the side, right next to the coffee grinds and the other one slips clear down to the bottom of the black banana. It's a crap shoot.
Well, at my house, there is no lone dust bunny. My dust bunnies have not only met for casual drinks behind the overstuffed chair sitting in the corner, a chair, which, by the way, has not been moved or vacuumed behind in well over a year, they have
dated exclusively for over 10 months
gotten married
given birth to at least 72,000 other dust bunnies
held 12,000 bar and bat mitzvahs
celebrated 19,000 christenings
conducted more brises (this is the plural of bris) than you can shake a bloody piece of foreskin at
welcomed and adopted numerous outsiders into the clan. They tell Neil that he may LOOK different but he is STILL one of them. By the by, Neil is a centipede thingy with a black and yellow striped face and 23 eyes. The dust bunnies ... a supreme model of tolerance. Their creed: We hope to exist in a world, where bugs and small nondescript balls of fuzz and hair can collect dust and allergens side-by-side bringing hope and goodwill to filth all over the globe.
Try and keep up people ... here's where it gets complicated.
separated (she looks at Neil with far too much interest)
reconciled (what was he thinking? I could never connect with a balding overweight bug)
separated again (how can she trust him after the Connie incident? She knows for a fact there's no way he was trying to revive her from a dust-induced asthma attack. No way)
divorced (she's a lesbian. That's it, she's definitely a lesbian)
remarried (He's right, I'm a lesbian, but I need someone to pay the house note)
and separated. (He's tired of looking like a moron in the front of the guys on the dust bowl team. There's no reason for those kinds of looks. None whatsover)
It's ... a nightmare.
This is what I am thinking about when I moved the chair this weekend to vacuum in preparation for my family's arrival at my daughter's birthday party
because if your family can't make you feel like you live like a filthy dirty nasty begging piece of weasel feces, who can?
and I saw them all (the dust bunnies) staring up at me with their little fuzzy faces, mixed in with pieces parts of long-deceased buggery. The bugs, well, they tried, but they never really did fit in. The suicide rate is like 99% for adoptive bugs in the dust bunny community. Another dirty little secret kept hidden by the man. Or should I say the maid? Or should I say the vacuum hose? Or should I say Pledge? Or should I say Old English? Seriously, what should I say?
I released my vacuum hose from its suckery holster and suctioned every last one of those dust magnets up. I did it without guilt. I did it without conscience. How could I, you ask? I'll tell you how.
Since I am too cheap to buy new vacuum cleaner bags, when a bag gets full, I just dump it all into a big green garbage bag, and this way I know, the dust bunnies will still be together. And happy. And most likely find their way back into my house. Probably catching a ride on the dog's butt. To find themselves once again behind the chair. In my living room. Where they belong. With the dead bugs.
At this blog we do not judge. We do not place blame. This is a FREE TO BE ME blog site. So spill it - what is your WORST unclean secret? How filthy are you able to go? Can you write notes to your significant other in the scum on the shower walls? I want to GASP with self-righteous indignation. Yes, I just contradicted myself. I won't gasp. Well, secretly I might. POST ALL THAT AND MORE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
SFTC PRESENTS - SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY - ARE MY PANTS TOO TIGHT?
Welcome to my second installment of SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY, where I create stories based on an interesting or funny picture.
If you would like to play along, create your own story based off of the picture I am showing. I only ask that you provide a link back to me somewhere in your blog post. To do that, highlight where you want the link to appear, select the little world you see up top when you are at looking at your new post page (to the right of the font color button) and then paste in my link
In addition, the most laugh-worthy submissions will have their blog, with their comments, featured in my next SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY post.
IF YOU HAVE OPTED TO NOT ENTERTAIN ME VIA A BLOG POST, PLEASE POST YOUR STORY ABOUT THIS PICTURE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
If you would like to play along, create your own story based off of the picture I am showing. I only ask that you provide a link back to me somewhere in your blog post. To do that, highlight where you want the link to appear, select the little world you see up top when you are at looking at your new post page (to the right of the font color button) and then paste in my link
In addition, the most laugh-worthy submissions will have their blog, with their comments, featured in my next SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY post.
LAST WEEK'S POST:
PAPER OR PLASTIC?
or
PLASTIC OR PILLOW?
(submitted by Kim at Kim Kasch - A Writer's Blog)
The most entertaining comments posted were:
mooooog35 at Mental Poo
Desperate to make sure that her grandchild has the same success that her son had, the Unknown Comic's mother gets Lily's career off to a tragic start.
Jennifer Jupiter at Hope Studios
Maria decided then and there to never send her daughter to Walmart with her blind grandmother again...no matter how badly they needed cigarettes.
Leigh at Leigh vs Laundry
Lupe takes advantage of Walmart's low unbeatable prices and finds the perfect child to add to her family in the produce section. After a careful inspection of thunking each child on the head and squeezing them to see if they were ripe, she selected Maria. Check in tomorrow when Walmart will be rolling back prices even more. Wednesday is twins day over near the bagged salad area, buy one get one free!
Mandy at Mandy's Life After 30
Come and check out Wal-Mart's new Halloween costume line, inspired by The People who shop at Wal-Mart. First up - 'Soprano Mafia Hat' - you suffocate 'em, we bury 'em'. Get em' while they're hot folks. Buy one and we'll throw in some free ketchup and a ski mask too.
Jill at HurstBurst
Out of groceries, yet fearful her daughter might spread her Swine Flu, Guadalupe took matters into her own hands and MacGyvered a surgical mask out of a produce bag.
Lee at Hormones, Headaches & Hotflashes
Taking a good hard look at her mother for the first time, she realized what her fate was going to be. After all, she had always been told that she looked like her mother. She had also heard her older brother say to look at the mom to see what the daughter would like when she was older. The mother ignored her as she screamed "NO WAY JOSE" and promptly put herself in a baggie.
PAPER OR PLASTIC?
or
PLASTIC OR PILLOW?
(submitted by Kim at Kim Kasch - A Writer's Blog)
The most entertaining comments posted were:mooooog35 at Mental Poo
Desperate to make sure that her grandchild has the same success that her son had, the Unknown Comic's mother gets Lily's career off to a tragic start.
Jennifer Jupiter at Hope Studios
Maria decided then and there to never send her daughter to Walmart with her blind grandmother again...no matter how badly they needed cigarettes.
Leigh at Leigh vs Laundry
Lupe takes advantage of Walmart's low unbeatable prices and finds the perfect child to add to her family in the produce section. After a careful inspection of thunking each child on the head and squeezing them to see if they were ripe, she selected Maria. Check in tomorrow when Walmart will be rolling back prices even more. Wednesday is twins day over near the bagged salad area, buy one get one free!
Mandy at Mandy's Life After 30
Come and check out Wal-Mart's new Halloween costume line, inspired by The People who shop at Wal-Mart. First up - 'Soprano Mafia Hat' - you suffocate 'em, we bury 'em'. Get em' while they're hot folks. Buy one and we'll throw in some free ketchup and a ski mask too.
Jill at HurstBurst
Out of groceries, yet fearful her daughter might spread her Swine Flu, Guadalupe took matters into her own hands and MacGyvered a surgical mask out of a produce bag.
Lee at Hormones, Headaches & Hotflashes
Taking a good hard look at her mother for the first time, she realized what her fate was going to be. After all, she had always been told that she looked like her mother. She had also heard her older brother say to look at the mom to see what the daughter would like when she was older. The mother ignored her as she screamed "NO WAY JOSE" and promptly put herself in a baggie.
WINNER OF THE FUNNIEST COMMENT
FOR
PAPER OR PLASTIC
Edna's efforts to return the child proved unsuccessful. Although the kid was still in the original plastic, she did not save the receipt.
Please go check out these highly entertaining bloggers and blindly follow them. I beseech you. Now on to our next story.
FOR
PAPER OR PLASTIC
Edna's efforts to return the child proved unsuccessful. Although the kid was still in the original plastic, she did not save the receipt.
Please go check out these highly entertaining bloggers and blindly follow them. I beseech you. Now on to our next story.
WORKING TITLE:
DO THESE PANTS LOOK TOO TIGHT?
DO THESE PANTS LOOK TOO TIGHT?
Jimmy Bob was determined he was NOT going home alone after the Friday night Golden Corale mixer, no matter what it took.
IF YOU HAVE OPTED TO NOT ENTERTAIN ME VIA A BLOG POST, PLEASE POST YOUR STORY ABOUT THIS PICTURE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I DIDN'T KNOW
Normally my posts are witty, sarcastic, humorous, and the list goes on (of course, that is only in my own mind) but today I'm taking it down. Today I am blogging for my sweet lady love and my precious daughter.
I didn't know you were being sent to me.
I didn't know you were going to be a part of this life.
I didn't know why God was disrupting my plans.
I didn't know if I could survive another pregnancy.
I didn't know if I could survive another post-par tum depression.
I didn't know how much I would love you the second I heard your heart beat.
I didn't know how much my family and friends would love you before they ever saw your face.
I didn't know my first words to you would be SHE'S HERE!
I didn't know how much your brother and daddy would love you.
I didn't know how wonderful being a mother of a sweet baby girl could be.
I didn't know how much you would add to our lives.
I didn't know you would fall in step with us, as if you were always meant to be.
I didn't know how sweet it would be for our family to be finally whole.
I didn't know how wonderful you were going to be.
I didn't know how blessed I was to be your mother.
I didn't know.
I didn't know.
I didn't know.
But now I do.
Due to my daughter's birthday, I will not be blogging again until next week, but be patient - I will get to all of the comments! I PROMISE!
What is something you DIDN'T KNOW prior to a major life event? It could be motherhood, meeting a great friend or that special someone, a new job, a new pet, ANYTHING! POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
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This one's for you Ann Claire.
I didn't know you were being sent to me.
I didn't know you were going to be a part of this life.
I didn't know why God was disrupting my plans.
I didn't know if I could survive another pregnancy.
I didn't know if I could survive another post-par tum depression.
I didn't know how much I would love you the second I heard your heart beat.
I didn't know how much my family and friends would love you before they ever saw your face.
I didn't know my first words to you would be SHE'S HERE!
I didn't know how much your brother and daddy would love you.
I didn't know how wonderful being a mother of a sweet baby girl could be.
I didn't know how much you would add to our lives.
I didn't know you would fall in step with us, as if you were always meant to be.
I didn't know how sweet it would be for our family to be finally whole.
I didn't know how wonderful you were going to be.
I didn't know how blessed I was to be your mother.
I didn't know.
I didn't know.
I didn't know.
But now I do.
We love you Ann Claire.
Due to my daughter's birthday, I will not be blogging again until next week, but be patient - I will get to all of the comments! I PROMISE!
What is something you DIDN'T KNOW prior to a major life event? It could be motherhood, meeting a great friend or that special someone, a new job, a new pet, ANYTHING! POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
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WHAT KIND OF COMPANY DO YOU KEEP?
Do you have a friend that you can answer the phone by saying: Most of the stuff you say is stupid and I don't even like your hair and then you hang up.
I do.
Do you have a friend who does not hesitate to throw a 40" exercise ball at 50 mph into the back of your head at 7 o'clock in the morning?
I do.
Do you have a friend who would stand in line with you for 12 hours to get -or maybe not get- LeBron James's signature, even though she doesn't follow sports, or the Cavs, and isn't even really a LeBron fan, but she does it because (and I quote) I like standing in line for things. It's my version of tailgating.
I do.
Do you have a friend who will force you to buy shoes a size too big and also categorized as NARROW when you have EEE wide feet, just because they complete your look.
I do.
Do you have a friend who will rationalize any purchase, and I do mean ANY--it could be a taxidermy bull moose trimmed in leather fringe with turquoise eyes and she'll CONVINCE you that it would take your bedroom to the next level.
I do.
I have laughed with her, cried with her, and grown to love her despite her being a complete ... whack-a-doodle. She loves me ... despite my clearly superior genius and good looks.
We are a lucky duo.
I know in 50 years we'll be sitting beside each other in cheap white plastic pool chairs, tanning our leathery age-spot-covered hides, flipping through the latest issue of Star magazine, and complaining about our kids, our cottage-cheese thighs, and wondering where our motivation to go to the gym has gone. Where, I ask you? Where?
So here's to you DT and a toast to as many years of friendship as we can get in together ... before I finally succumb to the tumor.
POST SCRIPT:
After reading my post, this is what this whacko friend of mine wrote about us (tear) and in italics are my responses:
I, too, have a crazy friend like this.
This friend will change into shorts and a t-shirt (in the dead of winter) to be weighed in at the giant scale at Buehler's in the middle of Black Friday shopping. Do you want an accurate weight reading or not?
She will stand in line with me at Wal-Mart on Black Friday during FREEZING temps. We almost threw down with these whack jobs behind us. Cut in line? I would never!
She will loose her mind in the middle of Hobby Lobby over a 50% sticker sale which includes screaming, jumping up and down, and hugging while anyone around watches us. (future blog post) 50% of stickers? I mean, seriously. If you won't hug about this, what will you?
She is the only friend I know that, much like me, loves to find ANY excuse to dress up in a crazy costume ("Its gonna be a real special night"). She's referring to the time I hosted White Trash Bunco at my house.
She shares my love of Celebrities, gossip about the celebs, scrapbooking, reality shows, dance music, and JINGLE BALL!
Nothing shocks her, as nothing will shock me.
When other sit in judgement of me, she just sits and laughs with me. She has been there to share some of my proudest moments and been there to share in my saddest moments. We have laughed, yelled, cried, farted, and burped together. She is my PARTNER IN CRIME and I love her. Back at ya biznotch!
WHAT IS SOMETHING CRAZY THAT YOUR FRIEND HAS DONE TO YOU OR VICE VERSA? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
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I do. Do you have a friend who does not hesitate to throw a 40" exercise ball at 50 mph into the back of your head at 7 o'clock in the morning?
I do.
I do.Do you have a friend who will force you to buy shoes a size too big and also categorized as NARROW when you have EEE wide feet, just because they complete your look.
I do.Do you have a friend who will rationalize any purchase, and I do mean ANY--it could be a taxidermy bull moose trimmed in leather fringe with turquoise eyes and she'll CONVINCE you that it would take your bedroom to the next level.
I do.I have laughed with her, cried with her, and grown to love her despite her being a complete ... whack-a-doodle. She loves me ... despite my clearly superior genius and good looks.
We are a lucky duo.I know in 50 years we'll be sitting beside each other in cheap white plastic pool chairs, tanning our leathery age-spot-covered hides, flipping through the latest issue of Star magazine, and complaining about our kids, our cottage-cheese thighs, and wondering where our motivation to go to the gym has gone. Where, I ask you? Where?
So here's to you DT and a toast to as many years of friendship as we can get in together ... before I finally succumb to the tumor.
POST SCRIPT:
After reading my post, this is what this whacko friend of mine wrote about us (tear) and in italics are my responses:
I, too, have a crazy friend like this.
This friend will change into shorts and a t-shirt (in the dead of winter) to be weighed in at the giant scale at Buehler's in the middle of Black Friday shopping. Do you want an accurate weight reading or not?
She will stand in line with me at Wal-Mart on Black Friday during FREEZING temps. We almost threw down with these whack jobs behind us. Cut in line? I would never!
She will loose her mind in the middle of Hobby Lobby over a 50% sticker sale which includes screaming, jumping up and down, and hugging while anyone around watches us. (future blog post) 50% of stickers? I mean, seriously. If you won't hug about this, what will you?
She is the only friend I know that, much like me, loves to find ANY excuse to dress up in a crazy costume ("Its gonna be a real special night"). She's referring to the time I hosted White Trash Bunco at my house.
She shares my love of Celebrities, gossip about the celebs, scrapbooking, reality shows, dance music, and JINGLE BALL!
Nothing shocks her, as nothing will shock me.
When other sit in judgement of me, she just sits and laughs with me. She has been there to share some of my proudest moments and been there to share in my saddest moments. We have laughed, yelled, cried, farted, and burped together. She is my PARTNER IN CRIME and I love her. Back at ya biznotch!
WHAT IS SOMETHING CRAZY THAT YOUR FRIEND HAS DONE TO YOU OR VICE VERSA? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Help me be YOUR follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor and follow you!
BAWV (Bloggers Against Word Verification) urges you to please remove your word verification! If you don't know how, please go here
Monday, September 21, 2009
SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY - GATHER ROUND KIDDIES, IT'S STORYTIME
Welcome to my latest SFTC brainchild - SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY, where I will be creating stories based on an interesting or funny picture, which will be shown below the post.
If you would like to play along, create your own story based off of the picture I am showing. It could be 15 paragraphs long or a few sentences - whatever tickles your shwiznot. I'm merely looking to be entertained. So I command you all to ENTERTAIN ME!
I'm not going so far as to involve Mr. McLinky -I'm sure he's a very nice man, but he frightens me- I only ask that you provide a link back to me somewhere in your blog post. To do that, highlight where you want the link to appear, select the little world you see up top when you are at looking at your new post page (to the right of the font color button) and then paste in my link
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was sitting in the grocery cart at Wal-mart. The whole time she was stuck in the cart, jabbering her 8.4 billion annoying child-related questions, like, why are cheetos orange? her mom would not stop telling her to be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet. Fed up with the oppression, the girl decided to give her mom the ultimate in quiet:
IF YOU HAVE OPTED TO NOT ENTERTAIN ME VIA A BLOG POST, PLEASE POST YOUR STORY ABOUT THIS PICTURE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog and become a follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor!
If you would like to play along, create your own story based off of the picture I am showing. It could be 15 paragraphs long or a few sentences - whatever tickles your shwiznot. I'm merely looking to be entertained. So I command you all to ENTERTAIN ME!
I'm not going so far as to involve Mr. McLinky -I'm sure he's a very nice man, but he frightens me- I only ask that you provide a link back to me somewhere in your blog post. To do that, highlight where you want the link to appear, select the little world you see up top when you are at looking at your new post page (to the right of the font color button) and then paste in my link
www.speakingfromthecrib.com
WORKING TITLE:
PAPER OR PLASTIC ?
In addition, the top three laugh-worthy submissions will have their blog, with their comments, featured in my next SPEAKING FROM THE LIBRARY post. So put a little sweat into this people.
WORKING TITLE:
PAPER OR PLASTIC ?
Once upon a time there was a little girl who was sitting in the grocery cart at Wal-mart. The whole time she was stuck in the cart, jabbering her 8.4 billion annoying child-related questions, like, why are cheetos orange? her mom would not stop telling her to be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, be quiet. Fed up with the oppression, the girl decided to give her mom the ultimate in quiet:
How's dead grab ya?
IF YOU HAVE OPTED TO NOT ENTERTAIN ME VIA A BLOG POST, PLEASE POST YOUR STORY ABOUT THIS PICTURE IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog and become a follower! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE or NEW FOLLOWER so I can be sure to return the favor!
Friday, September 18, 2009
OH, YOU SHOULD HAVE - AWARDS TIME
First I must apologize for taking so long to post some of these awards. Sorry.
Second, I must announce which awards have been bestowed on my blog.
Third, I must announce that I realize there are rules to be followed in addition to receiving these awards, unfortunately I am an indolent rule-breaker (look it up).
One of the most exciting is that the well-known and often quoted I'm Loud and Obnoxious and Use Words I Shouldn't Use In Front of My Children e-zine has called it, the blog to end all blogs. What ... an honor. Soak it in people, soak it in. Yes, it's okay to touch the screen. Go on. Touch it. Touch the blog.
I have received this little splashy number via Marlie and Me. You should go check her out and blindly follow her. The Splash Award is given to alluring, amusing, bewitching, impressive and inspiring blogs. I don't know what the @#$# she's been reading on this blog to give her that impression, but I'm gonna roll with it.
I forward this award to
Leigh vs. Laundry
Hormones, Headaches, and Hotflashes
Buried with Children
Lions, and Tigers, and Boys, Oh My
My Life...Badly Written
The Young and the Relentless
Raising My 4 Sons
Visit them all immediately and blindly follow them.
I have received the Honest Scrap Award from my great blog friend, Christine, over at Rant-Rave-Roll. Please visit her blog and blindly follow her. I wish someone made an A LOT OF CRAP award. I'd accept it with tears glistening in my eyes. Jill (my assistant to the regional SFTC blog manager) please get on that asap.
I bestow this award to the bloggers who put it all out there and aren't afraid of what anyone thinks about them or what they write.
I hope that's what this award means or else I'm going to look like a total moron.
I forward this award to:
Pearl, Why You Little
Rumblings and Bumblings
Batcrap Crazy
Wonderful World of Weiners
Unknown Mami
Hot Piece of Sass
Tampons and Chocolate
Vodka Logic
Zipbag of Bones
Housewife Savant
Visit them all immediately and blindly follow them.
The next award was given to me by The UnCreative Mommy in a Sea of Crafty Bloggers please, well, you know the drill (visit her and blindly follow).
I forward this award to:
ALL OF YOU - so please take it and post it on your blog and tell 'em I gave it to you, because you all really do have LOVELY BLOGS.
Finally, in case you haven't NOTICED (look over to your right) I am posting a SFTC TOP BLOG OF THE WEEK every Friday, to showcase all of the blogs I love to read. Please also visit them immediately and blindly follow them.
POST SCRIPT
Jilly Jill Jillerson, wonderful sistah, beloved friend, author of the HurstBurst blog and executive assistant to the SFTC regional manager, read this post and BAM here it is ... I present to you, my faithful, the A LOT OF CRAP AWARD which I have bestowed upon myself and I encourage you to present to yourselves as well. The tears are now officially flowing.
DO YOU HAVE A BLOG THAT YOU LOVE -INCLUDING YOUR OWN- GIVE IT A SHOUT OUT HERE! POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to return the favor!
Second, I must announce which awards have been bestowed on my blog.
Third, I must announce that I realize there are rules to be followed in addition to receiving these awards, unfortunately I am an indolent rule-breaker (look it up).
One of the most exciting is that the well-known and often quoted I'm Loud and Obnoxious and Use Words I Shouldn't Use In Front of My Children e-zine has called it, the blog to end all blogs. What ... an honor. Soak it in people, soak it in. Yes, it's okay to touch the screen. Go on. Touch it. Touch the blog.
I have received this little splashy number via Marlie and Me. You should go check her out and blindly follow her. The Splash Award is given to alluring, amusing, bewitching, impressive and inspiring blogs. I don't know what the @#$# she's been reading on this blog to give her that impression, but I'm gonna roll with it.
I forward this award to
Leigh vs. Laundry
Hormones, Headaches, and Hotflashes
Buried with Children
Lions, and Tigers, and Boys, Oh My
My Life...Badly Written
The Young and the Relentless
Raising My 4 Sons
Visit them all immediately and blindly follow them.
I have received the Honest Scrap Award from my great blog friend, Christine, over at Rant-Rave-Roll. Please visit her blog and blindly follow her. I wish someone made an A LOT OF CRAP award. I'd accept it with tears glistening in my eyes. Jill (my assistant to the regional SFTC blog manager) please get on that asap.
I bestow this award to the bloggers who put it all out there and aren't afraid of what anyone thinks about them or what they write.I hope that's what this award means or else I'm going to look like a total moron.
I forward this award to:
Pearl, Why You Little
Rumblings and Bumblings
Batcrap Crazy
Wonderful World of Weiners
Unknown Mami
Hot Piece of Sass
Tampons and Chocolate
Vodka Logic
Zipbag of Bones
Housewife Savant
Visit them all immediately and blindly follow them.
The next award was given to me by The UnCreative Mommy in a Sea of Crafty Bloggers please, well, you know the drill (visit her and blindly follow).
I forward this award to:
ALL OF YOU - so please take it and post it on your blog and tell 'em I gave it to you, because you all really do have LOVELY BLOGS.
Finally, in case you haven't NOTICED (look over to your right) I am posting a SFTC TOP BLOG OF THE WEEK every Friday, to showcase all of the blogs I love to read. Please also visit them immediately and blindly follow them.
POST SCRIPT
Jilly Jill Jillerson, wonderful sistah, beloved friend, author of the HurstBurst blog and executive assistant to the SFTC regional manager, read this post and BAM here it is ... I present to you, my faithful, the A LOT OF CRAP AWARD which I have bestowed upon myself and I encourage you to present to yourselves as well. The tears are now officially flowing.
DO YOU HAVE A BLOG THAT YOU LOVE -INCLUDING YOUR OWN- GIVE IT A SHOUT OUT HERE! POST IT IN THE COMMENTS! Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to return the favor!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAYS - THE ORANGE CONES BETWEEN YOU AND A SINGLE DIGIT PANT SIZE
When we embark on any journey, it is a mystery just exactly how well or how bad that journey may go. For example, we make our weekly visit to the supermarket. It may be a success. We may purchase all of our needs, forget nothing, the kids remain in the cart and are well-behaved, our debit card is not declined, and we back out of our parking spot with out running over the elderly person walking behind our car at a snail's pace.
Or you could go to the supermarket, forget your coupons, forget your list, neglect to buy half the stuff you desperately need (insert diapers, formula, and hairspray) the baby is screaming (you left the bottle and the pacifier at home), the son is begging for every $8 box of cereal with a cartoon character on it, your husband has the debit card, and after loading the groceries into the vehicle, you realize the door was left ajar and now your battery is dead.
It could go either way. The same is our journey with weight loss. We're going to meet some obstacles along the way.
My obstacles are boredom, fatigue, PMS, and sabotage. I have looked at each obstacle and devised a plan to fight each of them.
Boredom - blog, journal, read, catch up on my DVR, walk the dog
Fatigue - go to bed ya moron - that was easy
PMS - eat whatever you want because there is no fight in me at that time
Sabotage - this is a little trickier - my husband brings home cookies, cakes, breads, donuts, pizza, fast food AND he always asks - do you need anything? Yes, he is being nice, but I'd prefer he just walk out the door. And then when he gets home, I'd prefer he hid is booty. A little better...
On a different note, I have begun a new exercise regimen. It's called WORD VERIFICATION. I burn upwards of 2987 calories daily by typing and re-typing and re-typing and re-typing nonsensical words into an itsy bitsy space and even when I type them EXACTLY AS I SEE THEM they still don't post my comment. My fingers are EXHAUSTED and I might add, a sassy size zero.
If you would like to remove WORD VERIFICATION from your blog, follow these steps and say hello to more comments and happier followers! Sure, my fingers will probably gain a few el bees, but it's worth it. Don't worry too much about the spammers - a comment is a comment, right?
1. Select customize - top right hand corner
2. Select settings - left hand side, second tab from the left
3. Select comments - fourth tab from the left
4. Scroll down to the 10th item -
5. Select NO
My fingers are thanking you! And with that, I give you my week four results
WEEK FOUR SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAY, SEPT 18
THIS WEEK I WEIGH: 165.0 lbs - WEIGHT LOSS Of 2.4 lbs
UNREASONABLE WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 157 lbs
REALISTIC WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 163.0 lbs
TOTAL WEIGHT LOSS: 5.6 LBS
BETTER OPTION RECIPE
If you enjoying eating pizza, a better option for you may be this:
PITA PIZZA
whole wheat pita
2 tablespoons pizza sauce
1/4 cup skim milk mozzarella
add mushrooms, peppers, desired toppings
Cook at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until cheese melts. Make sure you bake pita on oven rack to ensure a crispier crust.
WHAT WEIGHT LOSS OBSTACLES DO YOU FACE IN YOUR JOURNEY? HOW DO YOU FIGHT THEM? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to return the favor!
Or you could go to the supermarket, forget your coupons, forget your list, neglect to buy half the stuff you desperately need (insert diapers, formula, and hairspray) the baby is screaming (you left the bottle and the pacifier at home), the son is begging for every $8 box of cereal with a cartoon character on it, your husband has the debit card, and after loading the groceries into the vehicle, you realize the door was left ajar and now your battery is dead.
It could go either way. The same is our journey with weight loss. We're going to meet some obstacles along the way.
My obstacles are boredom, fatigue, PMS, and sabotage. I have looked at each obstacle and devised a plan to fight each of them.Boredom - blog, journal, read, catch up on my DVR, walk the dog
Fatigue - go to bed ya moron - that was easy
PMS - eat whatever you want because there is no fight in me at that time
Sabotage - this is a little trickier - my husband brings home cookies, cakes, breads, donuts, pizza, fast food AND he always asks - do you need anything? Yes, he is being nice, but I'd prefer he just walk out the door. And then when he gets home, I'd prefer he hid is booty. A little better...
On a different note, I have begun a new exercise regimen. It's called WORD VERIFICATION. I burn upwards of 2987 calories daily by typing and re-typing and re-typing and re-typing nonsensical words into an itsy bitsy space and even when I type them EXACTLY AS I SEE THEM they still don't post my comment. My fingers are EXHAUSTED and I might add, a sassy size zero.
If you would like to remove WORD VERIFICATION from your blog, follow these steps and say hello to more comments and happier followers! Sure, my fingers will probably gain a few el bees, but it's worth it. Don't worry too much about the spammers - a comment is a comment, right?
1. Select customize - top right hand corner
2. Select settings - left hand side, second tab from the left
3. Select comments - fourth tab from the left
4. Scroll down to the 10th item -
5. Select NO
My fingers are thanking you! And with that, I give you my week four results
WEEK FOUR SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAY, SEPT 18
THIS WEEK I WEIGH: 165.0 lbs - WEIGHT LOSS Of 2.4 lbs
UNREASONABLE WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 157 lbs
REALISTIC WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 163.0 lbs
TOTAL WEIGHT LOSS: 5.6 LBS
BETTER OPTION RECIPE
If you enjoying eating pizza, a better option for you may be this:
PITA PIZZA
whole wheat pita
2 tablespoons pizza sauce
1/4 cup skim milk mozzarella
add mushrooms, peppers, desired toppings
Cook at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until cheese melts. Make sure you bake pita on oven rack to ensure a crispier crust.
WHAT WEIGHT LOSS OBSTACLES DO YOU FACE IN YOUR JOURNEY? HOW DO YOU FIGHT THEM? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to return the favor!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
THIS ALMOST MAKES ME WANT TO WORK IN AN OFFICE AGAIN
I would seriously consider re-entering the day-to-day grind of an office environment, if I could only ensure that this cast of characters, and their shenanigans would come along with it. Season 6 of The Office premieres tonight on NBC at 9:00 pm EST. I am usually a reality-only television viewer; however, this show is one of the best written, character-driven television shows of all time - right up there with Seinfeld, if not better.
Where else can you hear the following gems (taken from the Grief Counseling episode):
I lost Ed Truck, and it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears and at the same time somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledge hammer and then a third guy walks in and punches me in the grief bone. - Michael Scott
When my mother was pregnant with me, they did an ultrasound and found she was having twins. When they did another ultrasound a few weeks later, they discovered that I had reabsorbed the other fetus. Do I regret this? No. I believe his tissue has made me stronger. I now have the strength of a grown man AND a little baby. - Dwight K. Schrute
Possibly, my favorite dialogue ever from the Gay Witch Hunt episode:
Michael: That's the fun of this place. I call everybody faggy, why would anybody find that offensive?
Toby: I think Oscar would like it if you just used the word lame, or something like that.
Michael: That's what faggy means.
Toby: No, not really. Apparently, you called Oscar faggy for liking the movie Shakespeare in Love more than an action movie.
Michael: It's more than an action movie, it's Die Hard.
Toby: Oscar's really gay.
Michael: Yeah, I know.
Toby: No, Oscar is an actual homosexual.
Michael: I would've never called him that if I knew. You don't call retarded people retards, it's bad taste. You call your friends retards when they're acting retarded.
Comedy genius. So bring on the beets and butt kissing, Dwight K. Schrute, the mournful-eyed guy-next-door shrugs into the camera, Jim Halpert, the big butt and sass, Stanley Hudson, and the politically incorrect yet lovable antics of Michael Scott. What will the season bring? I don't even care! I'm just glad it's here!
I leave you with a clip of my favorite episode of all time, Season 5 - Stress Relief where Dwight sets the office on fire to teach the staff a lesson.
Post Script
The Office is now going to be shown in three hour blocks on TBS. In the Cleveland area, it is Tuesdays at 8 pm. The UK version of The Office, starring Ricky Gervais, the genius who started it all, is now being shown on The Cartoon Network. In the Cleveland area, it is Fridays at midnight. Check your local listings for dates and times.
If you are a fan, who is your favorite Office character, episode, or line? If not, what is your favorite TV show? What do you set your DVR to every week and watch without fail? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Where else can you hear the following gems (taken from the Grief Counseling episode):
I lost Ed Truck, and it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears and at the same time somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledge hammer and then a third guy walks in and punches me in the grief bone. - Michael Scott
When my mother was pregnant with me, they did an ultrasound and found she was having twins. When they did another ultrasound a few weeks later, they discovered that I had reabsorbed the other fetus. Do I regret this? No. I believe his tissue has made me stronger. I now have the strength of a grown man AND a little baby. - Dwight K. Schrute
Possibly, my favorite dialogue ever from the Gay Witch Hunt episode:
Michael: That's the fun of this place. I call everybody faggy, why would anybody find that offensive?
Toby: I think Oscar would like it if you just used the word lame, or something like that.
Michael: That's what faggy means.
Toby: No, not really. Apparently, you called Oscar faggy for liking the movie Shakespeare in Love more than an action movie.
Michael: It's more than an action movie, it's Die Hard.
Toby: Oscar's really gay.
Michael: Yeah, I know.
Toby: No, Oscar is an actual homosexual.
Michael: I would've never called him that if I knew. You don't call retarded people retards, it's bad taste. You call your friends retards when they're acting retarded.
Comedy genius. So bring on the beets and butt kissing, Dwight K. Schrute, the mournful-eyed guy-next-door shrugs into the camera, Jim Halpert, the big butt and sass, Stanley Hudson, and the politically incorrect yet lovable antics of Michael Scott. What will the season bring? I don't even care! I'm just glad it's here!
I leave you with a clip of my favorite episode of all time, Season 5 - Stress Relief where Dwight sets the office on fire to teach the staff a lesson.
Post Script
The Office is now going to be shown in three hour blocks on TBS. In the Cleveland area, it is Tuesdays at 8 pm. The UK version of The Office, starring Ricky Gervais, the genius who started it all, is now being shown on The Cartoon Network. In the Cleveland area, it is Fridays at midnight. Check your local listings for dates and times.
If you are a fan, who is your favorite Office character, episode, or line? If not, what is your favorite TV show? What do you set your DVR to every week and watch without fail? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
WHY AM I IN FREAK MODE? OR WHY I AM SICK OF TALKING ABOUT STAR WARS
It has been confirmed by the Guiness Book of World Records that my son holds the record for most consecutive hours discussing Star Wars by a male under the age of 13. And when I say discuss Star Wars, I mean ask me upwards of 2.7 billion questions about it. Every. Single. Day. Of. His. Life. Because his idea of conversation is him asking me questions all day long and me grunting back the answers. Or ignoring him. But he won't be ignored. He's relentless. Let me give you a peek into my world.
Here's a typical conversation.
Son, what would you like for breakfast?
Mom, what's your favorite Star Wars movie?
Mom, who is your favorite Star Wars character?
Son, how was school?
Mom, who is your favorite Anakin or Luke Skywalker?
Mom, do you like Anakin because he has long wavy hair like a girl?
Son, what was your favorite part of the day?
Mom, who do you like better, Padme or Princess Leia?
Mom, did you know Luke and Princess Leia are twins, but they don't look alike?
You get the picture. He talks about it first thing when he wakes up, first thing when I pick him up from school, he plays light savers (they're not called light sabers at our house, but light savers) with the neighborhood boys all afternoon, and then he takes his bath and talks about it during our bedtime chat. The boy does nothing half-a**ed. When he's obsessed, he's obsessed.
I was soon to find out how far the Star Wars permeation had gone when the other day I was flipping out about something (does it really matter what?) and he asks incredulously:
WHY ARE YOU IN FREAK MODE?
It made me stop and think, Yes, why am I in freak mode? And the next thought was, Where on earth did you hear that?
His reply, You Tube.
Apparently, there are a ton of Star Wars videos on You Tube. And here I thought he was playing video games on Nick JR. The videos are mostly home made, created by lonely Star Wars dorks (sorry Star Wars dorks, but you are dorks, and I am including my son in that category if he is still this obsessed with Star Wars when he has hair on his genitals). I asked him to show me the video he was talking about, and here we are:
My son's inspiration, and a little entertainment for the Star Wars dork in all of us. I know it is a little long - I rarely watch anything over 2 minutes, but it is funny if you can hang in there. At least until he asks about freak out mode. I think he drops it at 2.52. Enjoy!
Here's a typical conversation.
Son, what would you like for breakfast?
Mom, what's your favorite Star Wars movie?
Mom, who is your favorite Star Wars character?
Son, how was school?
Mom, who is your favorite Anakin or Luke Skywalker?
Mom, do you like Anakin because he has long wavy hair like a girl?
Son, what was your favorite part of the day?
Mom, who do you like better, Padme or Princess Leia?
Mom, did you know Luke and Princess Leia are twins, but they don't look alike?
You get the picture. He talks about it first thing when he wakes up, first thing when I pick him up from school, he plays light savers (they're not called light sabers at our house, but light savers) with the neighborhood boys all afternoon, and then he takes his bath and talks about it during our bedtime chat. The boy does nothing half-a**ed. When he's obsessed, he's obsessed.
I was soon to find out how far the Star Wars permeation had gone when the other day I was flipping out about something (does it really matter what?) and he asks incredulously:
WHY ARE YOU IN FREAK MODE?
It made me stop and think, Yes, why am I in freak mode? And the next thought was, Where on earth did you hear that?
His reply, You Tube.
Apparently, there are a ton of Star Wars videos on You Tube. And here I thought he was playing video games on Nick JR. The videos are mostly home made, created by lonely Star Wars dorks (sorry Star Wars dorks, but you are dorks, and I am including my son in that category if he is still this obsessed with Star Wars when he has hair on his genitals). I asked him to show me the video he was talking about, and here we are:
My son's inspiration, and a little entertainment for the Star Wars dork in all of us. I know it is a little long - I rarely watch anything over 2 minutes, but it is funny if you can hang in there. At least until he asks about freak out mode. I think he drops it at 2.52. Enjoy!
JIMMY FALLON SPOOF OF STAR WARS
What did you obsess about as a kid? What are your kids obsessing about now? If you had to make a dork video for You Tube, what would it be about? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Monday, September 14, 2009
I'M LIVING WITH THE WORLD'S YOUNGEST ANOREXIC
Experts have confirmed, that I am the mother of the world's youngest anorexic. My daughter will not eat anything of nutritional value. The only thing she willingly puts in her mouth are: the newspaper and action figures. I know one day I am going to open her diaper and find the entire sports section and the head of Darth Vadar staring back at me.
I have fought a daily battle with her for the last 6 months to eat any baby food. The only kinds she would eat were - squash, pumpkin and pears, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, and oatmeal cereal with cinnamon. Who can exist on this diet? And furthermore, who would want to?
She never sits in her highchair and eats like a normal baby. I have to place different items on her food tray to distract her, and then shove the food in her mouth as fast as I can before she loses interest in said item. I have literally run out of things to distract her with. At this point I am ready to hand her something semi-dangerous if it would entice her to eat.
Recently, it has gotten worse. She now refuses to eat baby food. She refuses to eat most anything that I hand to her when she is sitting in that high chair. She has to feed herself. What she chooses to feed herself is ... half a strawberry. Every day. Three times a day. How can you live on half a strawberry? HOW?! Doesn't she know the season is ending and not only will strawberries cost a fortune but they'll also be of a much poorer quality.
I have given her numerous other food options, in small baby bite-sized portions, but all these things are either thrown to the floor in disgust or handed by her chubby stick-covered fingers to the dog. The dog sits in rapture at her feet, wondering if this will be the day I decide to introduce filet mignon.
What options do I have left?
Intravenous feedings? I'd never find a good vein with all that strawberry and newspaper consumption.
Protein shakes? A possibility, but at this point she'll drink nothing except formula. She drinks it first thing when she gets up, all day long, right before bed, and sometimes even in the middle of the night.
Sounds like someone might have a drinking problem. Well, the first step is admitting it.
Brute force? In the past, I have had to administer many things through brute force: teeth brushings, toenail clippings, medicinal doses, hair accessories, just to name a few. If I could do it without causing her to aspirate the food and choke to death, I would seriously consider it.
Aside from her eating disorder, she is a wonderful baby. If she had to write a personal ad, this is what it would say:
I am an 11 1/2 month old SWF. I tend to fall asleep easily as long as I have my noonie in my mouth, and my blankie in my arms. Most nights I sleep soundly in my crib for 11-12 hours. I enjoy greeting the day with squeals of delight and thoughtful jabbering.
In my spare time, I play contentedly on the floor with a basket of toys and my favorite books. I don't spend much time watching TV; however, I do have a quiet infatuation with Elmo.
My outside hobbies are eating newspaper and chewing the heads off of my brother's Star Wars action figures and driving my mother to drink and pill pop with my preference to only consume one and a half strawberries daily.
Non-smokers and pet lovers only please.
I know it's just a matter of changing her perceptions about food and body image. If I've told her once, I've told her a hundred times, no baby, and I do mean, NO BABY, has ever stayed in a size zero diaper past the first three to four weeks of life.
Post Script
To avoid THOSE comments, this blog is for entertainment purposely only. If you really think I only feed my daughter one and a half strawberries a day, you are ... an idiot. Some days she gets upwards of four or five.
Did you or are you having eating issues with your child? What did you do about it? HELP ME AND POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
I have fought a daily battle with her for the last 6 months to eat any baby food. The only kinds she would eat were - squash, pumpkin and pears, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, and oatmeal cereal with cinnamon. Who can exist on this diet? And furthermore, who would want to?
She never sits in her highchair and eats like a normal baby. I have to place different items on her food tray to distract her, and then shove the food in her mouth as fast as I can before she loses interest in said item. I have literally run out of things to distract her with. At this point I am ready to hand her something semi-dangerous if it would entice her to eat.
Recently, it has gotten worse. She now refuses to eat baby food. She refuses to eat most anything that I hand to her when she is sitting in that high chair. She has to feed herself. What she chooses to feed herself is ... half a strawberry. Every day. Three times a day. How can you live on half a strawberry? HOW?! Doesn't she know the season is ending and not only will strawberries cost a fortune but they'll also be of a much poorer quality.
I have given her numerous other food options, in small baby bite-sized portions, but all these things are either thrown to the floor in disgust or handed by her chubby stick-covered fingers to the dog. The dog sits in rapture at her feet, wondering if this will be the day I decide to introduce filet mignon.
What options do I have left?
Intravenous feedings? I'd never find a good vein with all that strawberry and newspaper consumption.
Protein shakes? A possibility, but at this point she'll drink nothing except formula. She drinks it first thing when she gets up, all day long, right before bed, and sometimes even in the middle of the night.
Sounds like someone might have a drinking problem. Well, the first step is admitting it.
Brute force? In the past, I have had to administer many things through brute force: teeth brushings, toenail clippings, medicinal doses, hair accessories, just to name a few. If I could do it without causing her to aspirate the food and choke to death, I would seriously consider it.
Aside from her eating disorder, she is a wonderful baby. If she had to write a personal ad, this is what it would say:
I am an 11 1/2 month old SWF. I tend to fall asleep easily as long as I have my noonie in my mouth, and my blankie in my arms. Most nights I sleep soundly in my crib for 11-12 hours. I enjoy greeting the day with squeals of delight and thoughtful jabbering.
In my spare time, I play contentedly on the floor with a basket of toys and my favorite books. I don't spend much time watching TV; however, I do have a quiet infatuation with Elmo.
My outside hobbies are eating newspaper and chewing the heads off of my brother's Star Wars action figures and driving my mother to drink and pill pop with my preference to only consume one and a half strawberries daily.
Non-smokers and pet lovers only please.
I know it's just a matter of changing her perceptions about food and body image. If I've told her once, I've told her a hundred times, no baby, and I do mean, NO BABY, has ever stayed in a size zero diaper past the first three to four weeks of life.
Post Script
To avoid THOSE comments, this blog is for entertainment purposely only. If you really think I only feed my daughter one and a half strawberries a day, you are ... an idiot. Some days she gets upwards of four or five.
Did you or are you having eating issues with your child? What did you do about it? HELP ME AND POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
SHAME, SHAME, WE KNOW YOUR NAME AND IT'S KANYE
My son and I have a bedtime ritual. Once he's tucked in, he always asks me if I am going to be watching TV in my bedroom. I always tell him I am. Then he always tells me to turn it up so he can be sure I am indeed watching TV in my bedroom. It's his security blanket. I don't understand it, but it is what it is. I will go into my bedroom, turn on the TV, watch for 15 minutes or so, and then go on about my business elsewhere.
Last night after tucking him in, I went to my room and started flipping through the channels. I happened to stumble upon this fantastic dance sequence set to Michael Jackson songs. I think to myself, what is this? and then come to find out it is the MTV Video Music Awards (VMAs). I have not watched the VMAs probably since I was in college many moons ago. But this dancing was incredible and it sucked me right in.
Next thing I knew, they were presenting Best Female Video. I'm thinking to myself, this early? don't they usually save the big ones for last? Well, now I had to watch just long enough to see who won, and then I was headed to clean up the dinner mess in the kitchen.
The nominees were:
Taylor Swift, You Belong With Me
Katy Perry, Hot n Cold
Kelly Clarkson, My Life Would Suck Without You
Lady Gaga, Poker Face
Pink, So What
Beyonce, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)
I hardly have my finger on the pulse of the music industry. I barely even listen to the radio because I can't stand to have music going in the car or at home AND listen to my son incessantly yap about Star Wars and if he's ever NOT in the car or at home yapping about Star Wars, I want to hear SILENCE because it is a rare and precious thing.
However, Beyonce's video has been everywhere and I was pretty confident that she would soon be making her way to the podium. Drum roll, please. And the winner is ... Taylor Swift. It was a shock. Not only to me, but I think to Taylor Swift. She climbs to the stage to take her Moon Man and begins her acceptance speech when Kanye West leaps onto the stage like some mad man, grabs her microphone, and beings shouting about Beyonce's video. Please read his comments and video here, otherwise I'm gonna lose you in about four paragraphs time.
My heart sank for the poor girl. She is just a baby and he ruined her moment. Not only for her, but for her entire family and her many young fans. His momma is probably rolling over in her grave. If my son ever behaved like that I would be mortified. When will he mature enough to realize there is a time and a place for everything and that was not the time, nor the place? We learn these lessons at a very young age, don't we? I don't understand what chip is missing in his brain. Apparently, it is the I-can't-help-but-make-a-total-ass-of-myself-in-public-no-matter-how-many-times-my-manager-begs-me-not-to. Stunned and amazed, I shut off the TV and proceed to the kitchen to clean the dinner mess.
I look at the kitchen table, countertops, and stove, and say to myself, Why on earth do I ever cook? It never really tastes that great and then you're just punished for doing it by the utter destruction it causes to your home.
I roll up my sleeves and get down to the dirty business of cleaning with an I'm-never-going-to-get this-whole-mess-cleaned-up-in-a-million-years kind of attitude. I am at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in pots, pans, and silverware. Things are starting to move, starting to flow, starting to click. Plates are being rinsed, glasses stacked in the dishwasher, my cleaning mojo has been kicked into hyperdrive.
I'm really doing it man! I can see the countertops once again, the kitchen table is gleaming, the floor is free of discarded food. I'm nearly done. This is my moment. This is my MIRACLE! Just a few more dishes to rinse and I've reached my once-thought unattainable goal! I will have a clean kitchen BEFORE going to bed! There have been other dinners, other attempts at clean ups, but they always fell short. I really can't believe this is happening to me... my eyes fill with tears -most likely caused by the ammonia, but we're going with it- and I am now openly reveling in my clean-kitchen-glory.
At that exact same moment, the moment when all my dreams and aspirations for cleanliness and eboli free dining have been realized, my husband flies into the kitchen, grabs away my yellow dishwashing sponge, hoists it to his mouth, and begins shouting,
Yo, wifey, I'm really happy for you, I'll let you finish the dishes in a minute, but Beyonce cleaned up one of the biggest dinner messes of all time. ONE OF THE BIGGEST DINNER MESSES OF ALL TIME!
Do you see how ridiculous that kind of behavior is? DO. YOU. SEE. I mean, really. Stop it already.
Post Script
Apparently reparations for Taylor Swift were made during the VMA telecast. During her acceptance speech for Video of the Year, Beyonce Knowles gave Taylor the opportunity to finish her acceptance speech. To read that and see the video click here.
Beyonce's momma should be very proud.
Has anyone ever ruined your BIG MOMENT? I want to hear all about it. Just make sure to POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Last night after tucking him in, I went to my room and started flipping through the channels. I happened to stumble upon this fantastic dance sequence set to Michael Jackson songs. I think to myself, what is this? and then come to find out it is the MTV Video Music Awards (VMAs). I have not watched the VMAs probably since I was in college many moons ago. But this dancing was incredible and it sucked me right in.
Next thing I knew, they were presenting Best Female Video. I'm thinking to myself, this early? don't they usually save the big ones for last? Well, now I had to watch just long enough to see who won, and then I was headed to clean up the dinner mess in the kitchen.
The nominees were:
Taylor Swift, You Belong With Me
Katy Perry, Hot n Cold
Kelly Clarkson, My Life Would Suck Without You
Lady Gaga, Poker Face
Pink, So What
Beyonce, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)
I hardly have my finger on the pulse of the music industry. I barely even listen to the radio because I can't stand to have music going in the car or at home AND listen to my son incessantly yap about Star Wars and if he's ever NOT in the car or at home yapping about Star Wars, I want to hear SILENCE because it is a rare and precious thing.
However, Beyonce's video has been everywhere and I was pretty confident that she would soon be making her way to the podium. Drum roll, please. And the winner is ... Taylor Swift. It was a shock. Not only to me, but I think to Taylor Swift. She climbs to the stage to take her Moon Man and begins her acceptance speech when Kanye West leaps onto the stage like some mad man, grabs her microphone, and beings shouting about Beyonce's video. Please read his comments and video here, otherwise I'm gonna lose you in about four paragraphs time.
My heart sank for the poor girl. She is just a baby and he ruined her moment. Not only for her, but for her entire family and her many young fans. His momma is probably rolling over in her grave. If my son ever behaved like that I would be mortified. When will he mature enough to realize there is a time and a place for everything and that was not the time, nor the place? We learn these lessons at a very young age, don't we? I don't understand what chip is missing in his brain. Apparently, it is the I-can't-help-but-make-a-total-ass-of-myself-in-public-no-matter-how-many-times-my-manager-begs-me-not-to. Stunned and amazed, I shut off the TV and proceed to the kitchen to clean the dinner mess.I look at the kitchen table, countertops, and stove, and say to myself, Why on earth do I ever cook? It never really tastes that great and then you're just punished for doing it by the utter destruction it causes to your home.
I roll up my sleeves and get down to the dirty business of cleaning with an I'm-never-going-to-get this-whole-mess-cleaned-up-in-a-million-years kind of attitude. I am at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in pots, pans, and silverware. Things are starting to move, starting to flow, starting to click. Plates are being rinsed, glasses stacked in the dishwasher, my cleaning mojo has been kicked into hyperdrive.
I'm really doing it man! I can see the countertops once again, the kitchen table is gleaming, the floor is free of discarded food. I'm nearly done. This is my moment. This is my MIRACLE! Just a few more dishes to rinse and I've reached my once-thought unattainable goal! I will have a clean kitchen BEFORE going to bed! There have been other dinners, other attempts at clean ups, but they always fell short. I really can't believe this is happening to me... my eyes fill with tears -most likely caused by the ammonia, but we're going with it- and I am now openly reveling in my clean-kitchen-glory.
At that exact same moment, the moment when all my dreams and aspirations for cleanliness and eboli free dining have been realized, my husband flies into the kitchen, grabs away my yellow dishwashing sponge, hoists it to his mouth, and begins shouting,
Yo, wifey, I'm really happy for you, I'll let you finish the dishes in a minute, but Beyonce cleaned up one of the biggest dinner messes of all time. ONE OF THE BIGGEST DINNER MESSES OF ALL TIME!
Do you see how ridiculous that kind of behavior is? DO. YOU. SEE. I mean, really. Stop it already.
Post Script
Apparently reparations for Taylor Swift were made during the VMA telecast. During her acceptance speech for Video of the Year, Beyonce Knowles gave Taylor the opportunity to finish her acceptance speech. To read that and see the video click here.
Beyonce's momma should be very proud.
Has anyone ever ruined your BIG MOMENT? I want to hear all about it. Just make sure to POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Help me visit your blog! Please post a comment to let me know you were here, even if it is only I WAS HERE so I can be sure to repay the visit to your blog. Thanks!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
SFTC MET KATE AND IT WAS GREAT! -OR- EVERYONE SHOULD HAVE A FRIEND LIKE DEBBIE TEPER
This post is REALLY long and for its length I do apologize, but I cannot omit one second of this glorious day. Enjoy.
You would have thought I was going on my first date in 10 years. Preparations for the Kate Gosselin book signing event were time-consuming and intensive. Eyebrows were waxed. Teeth were brushed AND flossed. Legs, armpits, corns, and bunions were shaved and moisturized. Toenails freshly painted. Face exfoliated with mild chemical peel. Blemishes scrubbed. Hair shampooed, rinsed, and repeated. It was an ordeal. But I had to look my very best.
Our day began at Wal-mart with a mini-photoshoot. Yes, a photoshoot at Walmart. It was necessary. I did not have a copy of Kate's book for her to sign, and I wanted to have something original to knock Kate's socks off. I had been trying to take a picture of my kids at home watching the TLC show Jon and Kate Plus Eight , but Ann Claire refused to cooperate. She continually crawled away from the TV set, whimpering MA-MA MA-MA MA-MA. Due to her lack of timeliness and cooperation, her modeling fees have plummeted. Word of this type of behavior gets out. Quickly.
Therefore, she was plunked into a shopping cart at Wal-mart, given a copy of Multiple Blessings to pose with, and the photo shoot began. Unfortunately, I have your typical digital camera that has a 2 second delay as you press the shutter and I kept missing the shot. Fortunately, my BFF, Debbie Teper, photog goddess, has a fancy schmancy DLSR camera (I think those are the letters, don't correct me if I'm wrong), that takes 27 shots per second. She nailed it. We couldn't decide between the color or black and white, so we got both.
We made the quick drive to the IX Center, but not before we picked up free tickets to the event from our good friend, Jen Ingraham (thank you Jen) which saved us $20 plus dollars. Always a good thing. As we approached the off ramp, my car started making a very distrubing noise, like a tire might be getting ready to come off, but decided we weren't going to worry until the drive back home. We had bigger things to focus on.
The event was well run, with lots of kid and mom-related items to be sold. I bought a crazy pair of gigantic Versace-knock-off sunglasses with outrageous crystal detail. I love to go out in public wearing ridiculous eyewear to
a) give perfect strangers a good belly chuckle
b) force employees in the service industry to handle my business while keeping a straight face
c) have people think the chick's got grapes for wearing something like that in public
The first reality star we met was Johnathan Kayne of Project Runway Season 3. That was the season Jeffrey Sebelia or The Neck, as I called him, won.
We spotted Kayne sashaying through the door, and I shot up out of my seat and yelled across the room:
KAYNE! KAYNE! OVER HERE! KAYNE! WE LOVE YOU!
I am not shy. Btw, he loved us too.
After finishing lunch, we went to stalk him down. And there he was, sitting pretty as a peach by his dress display (which his dresses were ab-fab). If only I had a ball to go to. Alas, no more balls for me. Pun might be intended.
He agreed to take a picture with us and his attitude was just amazing. True gentleman. I'm not even going to go into the part where this completely mental train wreck interrupted our photo shoot with Kayne, to tell him (and inadvertantly us) her life story and to ask him to help her find a dress to wear to her high school reunion. If you aren't familiar with Kayne's work, he makes dresses for beauty pageants. What high school did she go to? Our Lady of the Cinderella?
After our meet -n- greet with Kayne, we headed over to the runway stage where Kate was due to speak in 2 hours time. There was still one seat left in the front row, so I secured that one, while my son and BFF Debbie took the two behind me. Now before everyone starts having a kitten that I took my son out of school, it was either that or have him standing in the school yard at 3:30 with no one to pick him up. It was a safety issue. So suck it.
Now, before you think I am the crazy one, let me tell you about the crazy one. The crazy one was sitting about five seats to the right of me. She had the exact same hair style as KG. And I do mean exact. And for all of you morons that think that I have the same hair style, I have a graduated French-style bob, while Kate sports the disjointed French-style bob, and if you don't know the difference, you are ... stupid. This hairstyle is the mother's wig in many portions of the midwest. It is easy, it is blow and go. I love it. In addition, I have had this hair style in different variations, at different times in my life, for the last 10 plus years. Way before Kate or Victoria Beckham even hoped to secure it upon their heads. So again, suck it.
Now back to the crazy one. She was there with the crazy posse, about 6-8 other women who were also clearly fans of the crazed variety. I mean, I too was excited to see Kate, possibly meet her, become best friends with her, share organic recipes, etc, but these yahoos took it to a whole other level.
Apparently the crazy one had been up since 3 am preparing for the day. So to her credit, she may have been a little sleep deprived, which makes all of us a little crazy. I can relate. Then she also admitted to standing outside the IX doors an hour before they opened, and once opened, running to the stage area to secure her top seat by the stage. Like I said, she is the crazy one.
As soon as I sat down in my seat, the crazy one went into hyper drive death looks. I'm not sure exactly what I had done to the crazy one to induce such evil stares, except bring a precious baby to sit on my lap in the front row (trump number one), exude a confident notice-me-above-all-others-Kate aura (trump number two), and then BAM, whip out the 8 X 10 photos of Ann Claire holding the book (final trump). I think the crazy one knew she was in for the fight of her life.
The crazy one checked, re-checked, re-applied, and then re-checked her make up a minimum of 17 times during the 2 hours we waited for Kate to appear. She sent her crazy posse out on numerous food-related errands. She would not budge from her seat. The closer we got to go time, the crazier she got. She was shaking and hyperventilating. She could hardly contain herself.
Then the fatal trump occurred. An attractive dark-haired woman came walking purposefully through the crowd, scanned it quickly with squinted eyes, looked down at me, and exclaimed,
YOU! You're a mom, right? (Did the baby sitting on my lap give it away?) Are you here to see Kate? Would you mind if we interviewed you for the Fox 8 News?
Clearly, they did not know who they were dealing with.
This sent the crazy one into level orange, code blue, niner-niner meltdown. I could barely answer the questions because I could see her flabbergasted and outraged looks and her pointing at me out of the corner of my eye. But I'm a professional. I was very nervous, and thank goodness had blogged about Kate the day before, so the answers seemed to flow seemlessly out of my mouth. I was nervous, but I held it together for the cameras. (My interview footage is the previous post). It was too much for the crazy one to take sitting down, so at her urging (direct command), one of her posse rudely interrupted another woman's interview, to ask if she could also be interviewed. The woman from her posse is featured at the end of my footage.
Kate is now getting ready to appear, the crazy one is up, she's down, she's up, she's down, she's hiding her face, she's rolling her eyes. I thought we might be in the midst of an epileptic seizure. Then Kate walks onto the stage. The crowd erupts into cheers, the crazy one bursts into tears and shouts NOW. She and her posse rush the stage, turn around, hold up the book, hence getting a picture of them all together with Kate. Meanwhile, my BFF Debbie is screaming at them at the top of her lungs SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN! NO ONE ELSE CAN SEE HER! SIT DOWN! She's small, but she's not afraid of a fight. I thought I was going to have to toss Ann Claire in her stroller and throw down. It got a little sticky for a minute.
Kate answered questions from the audience for about an hour. I loved every minute of it. She was honest, genuine, and literally, just like any other mom. She is a working mother, who loves what she does, just like a million other women in this country. We don't crucify Julia Roberts for leaving her kids to work on a movie, or Katie Couric for leaving her kids to film a television show. Why do we hate her so much for doing what millions of other moms do every day? I don't understand it.
No, I did not ask her a question, but (you guessed it) the crazy one and her friends did. Not so much ask a question, as tell Kate their personal life stories, with a question thrown in somewhere. Towards the end, the announcer explained Kate would take two more questions, and then be signing books across the way, and the crazy one immediately leaped from her chair, and RAN, like Flo Jo ran, across the IX center to secure her place in line. Kate exclaimed, How rude! I seconded her emotion, Yes! How rude! Then turned to Debbie, and said, Go!
Now, Kate is gone, Debbie is standing in line somewhere, clear across the IX Center, Ann Claire has fallen asleep in my arms, so I am carrying her, while Henry struggles to maneuveur the stroller through a throng of women going to the book signing area. People were literally pushing me over with a baby in my arms. I almost went face down at one point, and said outloud to myself, Really? These people are going to knock a baby to the ground to get a book signed? Yet again, I reassure myself, I am not the crazy one. Knock an old lady down? Sure. Push a wheel chair with an attached oxygen tank out of the way? Absolutely. But knock down a baby? That's just going too far.
We finally find Debbie at a decent spot in line, and guess what everyone is talking about? The crazy one! Apparently, she was providing entertainment not just for our little piece of heaven, but for the entire crowd. It was wonderful to vent about her and to yet again, confirm, that I was not the crazy one. Once the line began to move, it went very quickly. She was not allowing pictures with her or of her, unless you were behind a roped area. But we're rule breakers, so we planned to have me go first, so Debbie can take my pictures while I get my photos signed, let two people go between us, and while it is their turn, I take the camera, and take pictures of Debbie having her book signed.
As soon as I put the pictures on the table, Kate gasped OH MY GOSH! Is this the same baby you're holding?
You have to understand, her question is valid, because the picture was taken in the early morning while Ann Claire was fresh as a daisy. However, at this point, the hair is in a mohawk because the bow has been removed and lost, her jacket has been discarded because of the sweating factor, her pristine shirt is now covered in slimy drool, one of her socks and shoes is missing ... she was a hot tranny mess.
Me: Yes, we took it early this morning. She's kind of fallen apart now.
Kate: Ohhh, this morning? You're ambitious! Did you take it at Sam's Club?
Me: No, Wal-mart.
Kate: I love it. Can I keep one? (remember I had two)
Me: Absolutely.
Kate: Which one do you want? You want the color one don't you?
Me: No, actually I want the black and white.
Kate: Oh good, I want the color one. Oh, she's just precious. What's her name?
Me: Ann Claire
Kate: Are you from the South?
Me: No, right here in Cleveland.
Kate: Oh. It sounded like a Southern name. And whose this big guy?
Me: That's Henry. He's one of your biggest fans.
Kate: Oh Henry. I love your name. What do you want me to sign for you honey? You want one of these things? Here ya go. Give one to mommy too. Can you tell those girls back there how to spell your daughter's name? Thanks for coming!
I'm in shock and awe. I am now giving her assistants the proper spelling of my daughter's name while they too marvel at her beauty. I imagine to myself that the photograph will be prominently displayed on her living room coffee table in the next episode. An episode in which she regales her children and film crew with tales of the nice lady and her two beautiful children that she met in Cleveland during her latest book signing.
I am snapped out of my revelry by Debbie shouting KELLY! KELLY! KELLY! and motioning with her camera that it's my turn to get behind the lens. I quickly put Ann Claire in her stroller, grab the monstrosity she calls a camera, and snap off three quick pictures. Unfortunately, I am not a photog goddess, because her pictures are total crap. I think the stupid security guard was purposely trying to block me from getting the money shot. All Debbie could think to say was I love you, Kate signed the book, and their meeting was over. Do you see people? THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX!
Then Debbie showed me the shots she got of my meeting with Kate. She captured the moment Kate saw the photos, her mouth gaping open ... I mean, she just captured it all. She has now immortalized one of the funnest, happiest, craziest moments in our every day hum drum lives as mothers. And she has always done it for me. Without her, half of my life as a mom would be forgotten. And that is why everyone should have a friend like Debbie Teper. A friend who will do these crazy things with you and a friend who loves to do them just as much as you do. Because she is your friend. And she thinks this crazy fun life we have is just about as wonderful as it can get. So this post isn't really about meeting Kate --- it's about sharing this crazy experience with my best friend in the whole world, and laughing about the memories of it for years to come.
POST SCRIPT
As a result of my new found celebrity, people are now talking smack about me all over the internet, including other bloggers. I have been called delusional and freaky, amongst other things. Like ... duh. I embrace these nomenclatures, and thank you my friends for only increasing my popularity and notoriety. For this, I give you my SFTC blessings.
So what is the CRAZIEST thing you've ever done with your best friend? Does it involve a reality TV star? Do you revel in your delusional freaky inner self? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
You would have thought I was going on my first date in 10 years. Preparations for the Kate Gosselin book signing event were time-consuming and intensive. Eyebrows were waxed. Teeth were brushed AND flossed. Legs, armpits, corns, and bunions were shaved and moisturized. Toenails freshly painted. Face exfoliated with mild chemical peel. Blemishes scrubbed. Hair shampooed, rinsed, and repeated. It was an ordeal. But I had to look my very best.
Our day began at Wal-mart with a mini-photoshoot. Yes, a photoshoot at Walmart. It was necessary. I did not have a copy of Kate's book for her to sign, and I wanted to have something original to knock Kate's socks off. I had been trying to take a picture of my kids at home watching the TLC show Jon and Kate Plus Eight , but Ann Claire refused to cooperate. She continually crawled away from the TV set, whimpering MA-MA MA-MA MA-MA. Due to her lack of timeliness and cooperation, her modeling fees have plummeted. Word of this type of behavior gets out. Quickly.
Therefore, she was plunked into a shopping cart at Wal-mart, given a copy of Multiple Blessings to pose with, and the photo shoot began. Unfortunately, I have your typical digital camera that has a 2 second delay as you press the shutter and I kept missing the shot. Fortunately, my BFF, Debbie Teper, photog goddess, has a fancy schmancy DLSR camera (I think those are the letters, don't correct me if I'm wrong), that takes 27 shots per second. She nailed it. We couldn't decide between the color or black and white, so we got both.
We made the quick drive to the IX Center, but not before we picked up free tickets to the event from our good friend, Jen Ingraham (thank you Jen) which saved us $20 plus dollars. Always a good thing. As we approached the off ramp, my car started making a very distrubing noise, like a tire might be getting ready to come off, but decided we weren't going to worry until the drive back home. We had bigger things to focus on.
The event was well run, with lots of kid and mom-related items to be sold. I bought a crazy pair of gigantic Versace-knock-off sunglasses with outrageous crystal detail. I love to go out in public wearing ridiculous eyewear to
a) give perfect strangers a good belly chuckle
b) force employees in the service industry to handle my business while keeping a straight face
c) have people think the chick's got grapes for wearing something like that in public
The first reality star we met was Johnathan Kayne of Project Runway Season 3. That was the season Jeffrey Sebelia or The Neck, as I called him, won.
KAYNE! KAYNE! OVER HERE! KAYNE! WE LOVE YOU!
I am not shy. Btw, he loved us too.
After finishing lunch, we went to stalk him down. And there he was, sitting pretty as a peach by his dress display (which his dresses were ab-fab). If only I had a ball to go to. Alas, no more balls for me. Pun might be intended.
He agreed to take a picture with us and his attitude was just amazing. True gentleman. I'm not even going to go into the part where this completely mental train wreck interrupted our photo shoot with Kayne, to tell him (and inadvertantly us) her life story and to ask him to help her find a dress to wear to her high school reunion. If you aren't familiar with Kayne's work, he makes dresses for beauty pageants. What high school did she go to? Our Lady of the Cinderella?
After our meet -n- greet with Kayne, we headed over to the runway stage where Kate was due to speak in 2 hours time. There was still one seat left in the front row, so I secured that one, while my son and BFF Debbie took the two behind me. Now before everyone starts having a kitten that I took my son out of school, it was either that or have him standing in the school yard at 3:30 with no one to pick him up. It was a safety issue. So suck it.
Now, before you think I am the crazy one, let me tell you about the crazy one. The crazy one was sitting about five seats to the right of me. She had the exact same hair style as KG. And I do mean exact. And for all of you morons that think that I have the same hair style, I have a graduated French-style bob, while Kate sports the disjointed French-style bob, and if you don't know the difference, you are ... stupid. This hairstyle is the mother's wig in many portions of the midwest. It is easy, it is blow and go. I love it. In addition, I have had this hair style in different variations, at different times in my life, for the last 10 plus years. Way before Kate or Victoria Beckham even hoped to secure it upon their heads. So again, suck it.
Now back to the crazy one. She was there with the crazy posse, about 6-8 other women who were also clearly fans of the crazed variety. I mean, I too was excited to see Kate, possibly meet her, become best friends with her, share organic recipes, etc, but these yahoos took it to a whole other level.
Apparently the crazy one had been up since 3 am preparing for the day. So to her credit, she may have been a little sleep deprived, which makes all of us a little crazy. I can relate. Then she also admitted to standing outside the IX doors an hour before they opened, and once opened, running to the stage area to secure her top seat by the stage. Like I said, she is the crazy one.
As soon as I sat down in my seat, the crazy one went into hyper drive death looks. I'm not sure exactly what I had done to the crazy one to induce such evil stares, except bring a precious baby to sit on my lap in the front row (trump number one), exude a confident notice-me-above-all-others-Kate aura (trump number two), and then BAM, whip out the 8 X 10 photos of Ann Claire holding the book (final trump). I think the crazy one knew she was in for the fight of her life.
The crazy one checked, re-checked, re-applied, and then re-checked her make up a minimum of 17 times during the 2 hours we waited for Kate to appear. She sent her crazy posse out on numerous food-related errands. She would not budge from her seat. The closer we got to go time, the crazier she got. She was shaking and hyperventilating. She could hardly contain herself.
Then the fatal trump occurred. An attractive dark-haired woman came walking purposefully through the crowd, scanned it quickly with squinted eyes, looked down at me, and exclaimed,
YOU! You're a mom, right? (Did the baby sitting on my lap give it away?) Are you here to see Kate? Would you mind if we interviewed you for the Fox 8 News?
Clearly, they did not know who they were dealing with.
This sent the crazy one into level orange, code blue, niner-niner meltdown. I could barely answer the questions because I could see her flabbergasted and outraged looks and her pointing at me out of the corner of my eye. But I'm a professional. I was very nervous, and thank goodness had blogged about Kate the day before, so the answers seemed to flow seemlessly out of my mouth. I was nervous, but I held it together for the cameras. (My interview footage is the previous post). It was too much for the crazy one to take sitting down, so at her urging (direct command), one of her posse rudely interrupted another woman's interview, to ask if she could also be interviewed. The woman from her posse is featured at the end of my footage.
Kate is now getting ready to appear, the crazy one is up, she's down, she's up, she's down, she's hiding her face, she's rolling her eyes. I thought we might be in the midst of an epileptic seizure. Then Kate walks onto the stage. The crowd erupts into cheers, the crazy one bursts into tears and shouts NOW. She and her posse rush the stage, turn around, hold up the book, hence getting a picture of them all together with Kate. Meanwhile, my BFF Debbie is screaming at them at the top of her lungs SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN! NO ONE ELSE CAN SEE HER! SIT DOWN! She's small, but she's not afraid of a fight. I thought I was going to have to toss Ann Claire in her stroller and throw down. It got a little sticky for a minute.
Kate answered questions from the audience for about an hour. I loved every minute of it. She was honest, genuine, and literally, just like any other mom. She is a working mother, who loves what she does, just like a million other women in this country. We don't crucify Julia Roberts for leaving her kids to work on a movie, or Katie Couric for leaving her kids to film a television show. Why do we hate her so much for doing what millions of other moms do every day? I don't understand it.
No, I did not ask her a question, but (you guessed it) the crazy one and her friends did. Not so much ask a question, as tell Kate their personal life stories, with a question thrown in somewhere. Towards the end, the announcer explained Kate would take two more questions, and then be signing books across the way, and the crazy one immediately leaped from her chair, and RAN, like Flo Jo ran, across the IX center to secure her place in line. Kate exclaimed, How rude! I seconded her emotion, Yes! How rude! Then turned to Debbie, and said, Go!
Now, Kate is gone, Debbie is standing in line somewhere, clear across the IX Center, Ann Claire has fallen asleep in my arms, so I am carrying her, while Henry struggles to maneuveur the stroller through a throng of women going to the book signing area. People were literally pushing me over with a baby in my arms. I almost went face down at one point, and said outloud to myself, Really? These people are going to knock a baby to the ground to get a book signed? Yet again, I reassure myself, I am not the crazy one. Knock an old lady down? Sure. Push a wheel chair with an attached oxygen tank out of the way? Absolutely. But knock down a baby? That's just going too far.
We finally find Debbie at a decent spot in line, and guess what everyone is talking about? The crazy one! Apparently, she was providing entertainment not just for our little piece of heaven, but for the entire crowd. It was wonderful to vent about her and to yet again, confirm, that I was not the crazy one. Once the line began to move, it went very quickly. She was not allowing pictures with her or of her, unless you were behind a roped area. But we're rule breakers, so we planned to have me go first, so Debbie can take my pictures while I get my photos signed, let two people go between us, and while it is their turn, I take the camera, and take pictures of Debbie having her book signed.
As soon as I put the pictures on the table, Kate gasped OH MY GOSH! Is this the same baby you're holding?
You have to understand, her question is valid, because the picture was taken in the early morning while Ann Claire was fresh as a daisy. However, at this point, the hair is in a mohawk because the bow has been removed and lost, her jacket has been discarded because of the sweating factor, her pristine shirt is now covered in slimy drool, one of her socks and shoes is missing ... she was a hot tranny mess.
Me: Yes, we took it early this morning. She's kind of fallen apart now.
Kate: Ohhh, this morning? You're ambitious! Did you take it at Sam's Club?
Me: No, Wal-mart.
Kate: I love it. Can I keep one? (remember I had two)
Me: Absolutely.
Kate: Which one do you want? You want the color one don't you?
Me: No, actually I want the black and white.
Kate: Oh good, I want the color one. Oh, she's just precious. What's her name?
Me: Ann Claire
Kate: Are you from the South?
Me: No, right here in Cleveland.
Kate: Oh. It sounded like a Southern name. And whose this big guy?
Me: That's Henry. He's one of your biggest fans.
Kate: Oh Henry. I love your name. What do you want me to sign for you honey? You want one of these things? Here ya go. Give one to mommy too. Can you tell those girls back there how to spell your daughter's name? Thanks for coming!
I'm in shock and awe. I am now giving her assistants the proper spelling of my daughter's name while they too marvel at her beauty. I imagine to myself that the photograph will be prominently displayed on her living room coffee table in the next episode. An episode in which she regales her children and film crew with tales of the nice lady and her two beautiful children that she met in Cleveland during her latest book signing.
I am snapped out of my revelry by Debbie shouting KELLY! KELLY! KELLY! and motioning with her camera that it's my turn to get behind the lens. I quickly put Ann Claire in her stroller, grab the monstrosity she calls a camera, and snap off three quick pictures. Unfortunately, I am not a photog goddess, because her pictures are total crap. I think the stupid security guard was purposely trying to block me from getting the money shot. All Debbie could think to say was I love you, Kate signed the book, and their meeting was over. Do you see people? THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX!
Then Debbie showed me the shots she got of my meeting with Kate. She captured the moment Kate saw the photos, her mouth gaping open ... I mean, she just captured it all. She has now immortalized one of the funnest, happiest, craziest moments in our every day hum drum lives as mothers. And she has always done it for me. Without her, half of my life as a mom would be forgotten. And that is why everyone should have a friend like Debbie Teper. A friend who will do these crazy things with you and a friend who loves to do them just as much as you do. Because she is your friend. And she thinks this crazy fun life we have is just about as wonderful as it can get. So this post isn't really about meeting Kate --- it's about sharing this crazy experience with my best friend in the whole world, and laughing about the memories of it for years to come.
POST SCRIPT
As a result of my new found celebrity, people are now talking smack about me all over the internet, including other bloggers. I have been called delusional and freaky, amongst other things. Like ... duh. I embrace these nomenclatures, and thank you my friends for only increasing my popularity and notoriety. For this, I give you my SFTC blessings.
So what is the CRAZIEST thing you've ever done with your best friend? Does it involve a reality TV star? Do you revel in your delusional freaky inner self? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAYS - HOW LONG IS A LONG TIME?
Welcome all ye who dare to enter. This is the third installment of my newest feature, SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAYS, where we explore the ugly world of weight loss (and gain).
When I start thinking about exactly how MUCH weight I need to lose, and the (most likely) very long journey ahead of me, I get that overwhelmed feeling in my brain. Then the voices in my heard start in on me. The weight loss voices. Not the regular ones that tell me:
to wear my bra on the outside of my clothes
that body grooming might just be a total waste of time
to dig thru the neighbor's trash in broad daylight just to see if it freaks them out
The weight loss voices tell me:
When I start thinking about exactly how MUCH weight I need to lose, and the (most likely) very long journey ahead of me, I get that overwhelmed feeling in my brain. Then the voices in my heard start in on me. The weight loss voices. Not the regular ones that tell me:
to wear my bra on the outside of my clothes
that body grooming might just be a total waste of time 
to dig thru the neighbor's trash in broad daylight just to see if it freaks them outThe weight loss voices tell me:
You'll never be able to do it, so just give up now.
The weight will never come off no matter what you do.
It's easier to stay fat than to do anything about it.
You are ALWAYS going to be fat.
The weight will never come off no matter what you do.
It's easier to stay fat than to do anything about it.
You are ALWAYS going to be fat.
Unfortunately, these weight loss voices are on a running loop in my head, and I'm usually stuffing a cream-filled donut and a sausage link into my mouth (at the same time) as I'm listening to them.
At times, the journey seems too long and the goal remains frustratingly out of reach. When I feel this sort of defeat, I always seem to gravitate to my old buddy food to make me feel better or to drown out the feelings. Repeating the cycle of violence. Against my butt gut.
So, my goals (and yours) for this week are:
- to shut off the crazy weight loss voices (click)
- stay present in weight loss efforts
- focus on the pound(s) to lose per week do not worry about total amount
- focus on present food choice, take one meal at a time
And if all that fails, I can always call in law enforcement.
At times, the journey seems too long and the goal remains frustratingly out of reach. When I feel this sort of defeat, I always seem to gravitate to my old buddy food to make me feel better or to drown out the feelings. Repeating the cycle of violence. Against my butt gut.
So, my goals (and yours) for this week are:
- to shut off the crazy weight loss voices (click)
- stay present in weight loss efforts
- focus on the pound(s) to lose per week do not worry about total amount
- focus on present food choice, take one meal at a time
And if all that fails, I can always call in law enforcement.
WEEK THREE SPEAKING FROM THE FRIDGE FRIDAY, SEPT 10
THIS WEEK I WEIGH: 167.4 lbs - WEIGHT LOSS Of 1.4 lbs
UNREASONABLE WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 160 lbs
REALISTIC WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 165.4 lbs
TOTAL WEIGHT LOSS: 3.2 LBS
BETTER OPTION RECIPE
If you love breakfast casseroles, this may be a BETTER OPTION for you. And it is delicious. I make it a day head before every holiday, and get up in the morning, pop it in the oven, and by the time we're done opening gifts or hunting eggs or whatever it is, our breakfast is ready!
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
10 slice French bread
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 cup Maple Grove Cozy Cottage Sugar Free Pancake Syrup
1/3 cup Light buttery spread with flax
1 1/4 cup Egg Beaters
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 9X13 baking dish with cooking spray. Place bread cubes in large bowl and mix with cinnamon. In separate bowl beat eggs, milk, maple syrup, brown sugar and butter together. Pour egg mixture over bread cubes and stir thoroughly. Place back in baking dish. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes.
Can you stay PRESENT in your weight loss? Or do you obsess about the long journey ahead? Does the amount of weight you have to lose keep you from even trying? What do your voices tell YOU to do? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS.
For all you skinny girls reading this, ummm, go die. Better yet, eat something. You're making the rest of us feel like crap. No offense.
THIS WEEK I WEIGH: 167.4 lbs - WEIGHT LOSS Of 1.4 lbs
UNREASONABLE WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 160 lbs
REALISTIC WEIGHT GOAL FOR NEXT FRIDAY: 165.4 lbs
TOTAL WEIGHT LOSS: 3.2 LBS
BETTER OPTION RECIPE
If you love breakfast casseroles, this may be a BETTER OPTION for you. And it is delicious. I make it a day head before every holiday, and get up in the morning, pop it in the oven, and by the time we're done opening gifts or hunting eggs or whatever it is, our breakfast is ready!
French Toast Casserole
Breakfast | I leave overnight in fridge to allow bread to completely soak up the egg mixture.
2 cup fat-free skim milkBreakfast | I leave overnight in fridge to allow bread to completely soak up the egg mixture.
| Ingredients |
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
10 slice French bread
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 cup Maple Grove Cozy Cottage Sugar Free Pancake Syrup
1/3 cup Light buttery spread with flax
1 1/4 cup Egg Beaters
| Instructions |
Can you stay PRESENT in your weight loss? Or do you obsess about the long journey ahead? Does the amount of weight you have to lose keep you from even trying? What do your voices tell YOU to do? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS.
For all you skinny girls reading this, ummm, go die. Better yet, eat something. You're making the rest of us feel like crap. No offense.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
KELLY MEETING KATE WITH MY BEST FRIEND AND TWO KIDS PROBABLY = ME MAKING A TOTAL *SS OF MYSELF
On Friday morning I am going to Cleveland to meet KATE GOSSELIN of the now infamous TLC show:
Hair plugged, yet somehow still balding, beer-bellied, but still tucking in his Ed Ret-hardy shirts, apparent-but-I-don't-get-it-at-all chick magnet for semi-attractive college-educated women, ridiculous MORON AND KATE PLUS EIGHT
That's what they're calling it now, right? Boo hoo, POOR JON! She's so mean to him. SHUT UP ALREADY! He's a snake in the grass. A. snake. in. the. grass. Big fat hairy dirt bag. Dirt. Bag. Want to do what's best for your kids, Jon? Stop banging fifty chicks behind your wife's back. That's what's best for them. Ya weasel. WEASEL!
Now I'm off track. Let's focus, shall we?
And by MEET, I mean I am going to the IX Center in Cleveland at 10:00 am, to stand in line, with my two small children and my best friend, until 2:00 pm, when Kate is scheduled to appear for a book signing. If something goes awry, and I don't actually meet her, but I still end up seeing her, it still means that I met her, because if you SEE someone famous in public, it means that you met them. And maybe even said hello and shook their hand. Telepathically does count.
Isn't that what BASED on a true story really means? I find basing my life experiences and memories on what I wanted to happen as opposed to what really happened makes for a much better and fulfilling existence. You should try it sometime.
My feelings about Kate have run the gamut. When the show was first on, I marveled at her organizational skills, her spotless house, and her beautifully clean children. I could identify with her as a mother living in a small town, in a modest home, on one salary, just trying to get through life.
When she got the million dollar house, my opinion started to go a bit south. It took me weeks to even bring myself to watch the episodes featuring their new home. First of all, I was seething with jealousy. She was supposed to live in a crap house just like me for the rest of her life. What the hell happened? She went and wrote herself a book and got RICH. Multiple Blessings, my hiney. More like Multiple PAYCHECKS! It was more than I could swallow. I could no longer identify with her or her life.
Then the marriage issues exploded and my heart ached for her and her kids. I cried with her and for her. Sure, sometimes she appears to be a total biznotch on TV, but if a camera followed my chubby butt around 24 hours a day, I'd make her look like a laxative taking valium drinking a glass of sherry.
Feelings aside, let's just hope, that as I make my way to the table where she sits upon her book-signing thrown, that I don't giggle at her like a dribbling idiot, pee myself (just a little), and then trip over my diaper bag, causing a urine-drenched poop-filled diaper to eject from the side pocket, right onto the table where she sits. Because, that would just be based on what will probably definitely happen.
But it would make a great blog post.
Hmmm.
So what's your verdict? Hate her or love her? Was Jon justified or is he just a stupid chubby dirt bag? When I meet her should I fake sneeze on her arm, and then wipe it off with a dirty burp rag? Let me hear it all POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Hair plugged, yet somehow still balding, beer-bellied, but still tucking in his Ed Ret-hardy shirts, apparent-but-I-don't-get-it-at-all chick magnet for semi-attractive college-educated women, ridiculous MORON AND KATE PLUS EIGHT
That's what they're calling it now, right? Boo hoo, POOR JON! She's so mean to him. SHUT UP ALREADY! He's a snake in the grass. A. snake. in. the. grass. Big fat hairy dirt bag. Dirt. Bag. Want to do what's best for your kids, Jon? Stop banging fifty chicks behind your wife's back. That's what's best for them. Ya weasel. WEASEL!
Now I'm off track. Let's focus, shall we?
And by MEET, I mean I am going to the IX Center in Cleveland at 10:00 am, to stand in line, with my two small children and my best friend, until 2:00 pm, when Kate is scheduled to appear for a book signing. If something goes awry, and I don't actually meet her, but I still end up seeing her, it still means that I met her, because if you SEE someone famous in public, it means that you met them. And maybe even said hello and shook their hand. Telepathically does count.
Isn't that what BASED on a true story really means? I find basing my life experiences and memories on what I wanted to happen as opposed to what really happened makes for a much better and fulfilling existence. You should try it sometime.
My feelings about Kate have run the gamut. When the show was first on, I marveled at her organizational skills, her spotless house, and her beautifully clean children. I could identify with her as a mother living in a small town, in a modest home, on one salary, just trying to get through life.
When she got the million dollar house, my opinion started to go a bit south. It took me weeks to even bring myself to watch the episodes featuring their new home. First of all, I was seething with jealousy. She was supposed to live in a crap house just like me for the rest of her life. What the hell happened? She went and wrote herself a book and got RICH. Multiple Blessings, my hiney. More like Multiple PAYCHECKS! It was more than I could swallow. I could no longer identify with her or her life.
Then the marriage issues exploded and my heart ached for her and her kids. I cried with her and for her. Sure, sometimes she appears to be a total biznotch on TV, but if a camera followed my chubby butt around 24 hours a day, I'd make her look like a laxative taking valium drinking a glass of sherry.
Feelings aside, let's just hope, that as I make my way to the table where she sits upon her book-signing thrown, that I don't giggle at her like a dribbling idiot, pee myself (just a little), and then trip over my diaper bag, causing a urine-drenched poop-filled diaper to eject from the side pocket, right onto the table where she sits. Because, that would just be based on what will probably definitely happen.
But it would make a great blog post.
Hmmm.
So what's your verdict? Hate her or love her? Was Jon justified or is he just a stupid chubby dirt bag? When I meet her should I fake sneeze on her arm, and then wipe it off with a dirty burp rag? Let me hear it all POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
WHAT I WOULD KEEP IN MY SAFE ... IF I HAD ONE
Let's think about it. What do most people keep in a safe? Important documents. Family heirlooms. Jewelry. A small arsenal. Important and potentially dangerous things, right? Right.
Well, I would keep none of that stuff in a safe. I have those things, but they are strewn all over my humble abode. And an arsenal? The only arsenal that I possess are of the bodily function. Contained within my lower intestine.
But none of this matters, because if I did have a safe, I would keep only the REALLY IMPORTANT stuff in there.
A cordless screwdriver
A roll of tape
Scissors
Why is it that when I need to fix the paper towel holder, or remove a battery cover to a toy, or drill a hole through my temple, the cordless screwdriver has grown legs and run off to wherever the other 82 cordless screwdrivers have run off to before him (or her)? Is there some Black & Decker singles club a block from my house that I don't know about?
Why is it that when I need to wrap a gift, fix the hole in the vacuum hose, or tie up my children, the tape has apparently transformed itself into a pair of white cotton granny underwear, because that's all I'm seeing in the drawer where I normally keep the tape. Yes, I keep the masking tape in my underwear drawer, in the HOPES that no one will EVER find it. And who is looking in my underwear drawer for TAPE anyway?
Note to self: perhaps husband has weird granny underwear scotch tape fetish. google asap.
And why is it that when I want to jimmy the lid off a can of cat food, or clip a coupon (who am I kidding, I'm far too lazy to walk into the kitchen to get the scissors to clip a coupon), or perform at-home surgery on my corns, that the scissors have done a disappearing act too? The scissors are pink. They have DAISIES on them. I mean, they're so GIRLIE it's ridiculous ...
OMG. The screwdrivers. They have taken up with the screwdrivers. Lured by tales of a life devoid of squeezing sweaty palms. I wonder if that's the noise I'm hearing late at night ... what if they're hosting a singles meet and greet in my garage every third Thursday, and I am completely oblivious to it ... no, no. That's just ridiculous. They'd totally go to tools4love.com.
What would you keep in your safe? Are your tools appearing in low budget knock off versions of TOOLS GONE WILD? Do you think at-home corn surgery with a pair of daisy scissors is safe? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Brief post post note and this is NOT a threat, I repeat, this is not a blog threat, just a fact of blog life!
If you post a comment, I will be sure to visit your blog and post a comment in return. If you don't post a comment, I will still do my best to visit your blog, read, and post a comment, but with the volume of blogs on my roll, it is becoming next to impossible to visit everyone every day, but I am doing my very best. Thanks again for your overwhelming support and bloggy love. SFTC
Well, I would keep none of that stuff in a safe. I have those things, but they are strewn all over my humble abode. And an arsenal? The only arsenal that I possess are of the bodily function. Contained within my lower intestine.
But none of this matters, because if I did have a safe, I would keep only the REALLY IMPORTANT stuff in there.
A cordless screwdriver
A roll of tape
Scissors
Why is it that when I need to fix the paper towel holder, or remove a battery cover to a toy, or drill a hole through my temple, the cordless screwdriver has grown legs and run off to wherever the other 82 cordless screwdrivers have run off to before him (or her)? Is there some Black & Decker singles club a block from my house that I don't know about?
Why is it that when I need to wrap a gift, fix the hole in the vacuum hose, or tie up my children, the tape has apparently transformed itself into a pair of white cotton granny underwear, because that's all I'm seeing in the drawer where I normally keep the tape. Yes, I keep the masking tape in my underwear drawer, in the HOPES that no one will EVER find it. And who is looking in my underwear drawer for TAPE anyway?
Note to self: perhaps husband has weird granny underwear scotch tape fetish. google asap.
And why is it that when I want to jimmy the lid off a can of cat food, or clip a coupon (who am I kidding, I'm far too lazy to walk into the kitchen to get the scissors to clip a coupon), or perform at-home surgery on my corns, that the scissors have done a disappearing act too? The scissors are pink. They have DAISIES on them. I mean, they're so GIRLIE it's ridiculous ...
OMG. The screwdrivers. They have taken up with the screwdrivers. Lured by tales of a life devoid of squeezing sweaty palms. I wonder if that's the noise I'm hearing late at night ... what if they're hosting a singles meet and greet in my garage every third Thursday, and I am completely oblivious to it ... no, no. That's just ridiculous. They'd totally go to tools4love.com.
What would you keep in your safe? Are your tools appearing in low budget knock off versions of TOOLS GONE WILD? Do you think at-home corn surgery with a pair of daisy scissors is safe? POST IT IN THE COMMENTS!
Brief post post note and this is NOT a threat, I repeat, this is not a blog threat, just a fact of blog life!
If you post a comment, I will be sure to visit your blog and post a comment in return. If you don't post a comment, I will still do my best to visit your blog, read, and post a comment, but with the volume of blogs on my roll, it is becoming next to impossible to visit everyone every day, but I am doing my very best. Thanks again for your overwhelming support and bloggy love. SFTC
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