I don't care how much you all hate the holidays and the crass commercialism that they inevitably bring. I love them. Maybe it's because I had an idyllic childhood and a huge, happy family. Christmas? Love it.
Giving gifts to people? It makes me happy. I love taking time to pick out something that I think will make someone else happy, that might bring them some kind of pleasure. Something that could possibly show them that I care and that I did listen when they said they had a particular hobby or interest or need that year. As Michael Scott says, it's like saying "I love you an iPod worth." Granted, I'm not bringing anything nearly that expensive to the table...OK, we did get my dad one, but he had it coming. He's an awesome dad and totally deserved a really great gift from a kid that he gives everything to.
I also love all of the trimmings that come with the Holiday season. I'm not particularly religious, but I do celebrate Christmas as a gathering of friends and family that sometimes trades gifts but more often than not is happy to share good times and tons of great food. Maybe I should just say that I celebrate the holidays, because there's no church involved.
I love all of the food. My dad gets tons of food from coworkers every year and always brought home some really great stuff, so besides my mom's cooking, there's always another reason to visit during the holidays. But when she does cook, oh man. She makes her own fudge, there's always three or four tins of chex mix hidden throughout the house. The roasts, the mashed potatoes, the gravy, it's truly a wonderful time of the year.
The decorations are fun, too. I don't care how tacky they may seem to some people. I love the pine boughs, the bright ribbons, the richly textured fabrics, the plaids. I love putting up my decorations every year. It always feels kind of bare when I have to store them afterwards. I love a simple strand of white lights. I'm not huge on ornaments, but this year I did buy myself a glass one shaped like a red, double-decker bus from London. You know why? It made me happy.
And the music. I love it. I can't take it year-round like my mom, but I do like it for about a week before Christmas. I love the traditional carols, the singing, the classical music, the instrumentals, the newer, Beatles version of things. Pants, an admitted Christmas music hater, even said he liked Elvis' "Blue Christmas" the other day. Gets me in the spirit and excited about the holiday. I think we all need a little excitement, something to look forward to.
And Christmas eve, I still get excited. I know there's no Santa, no one's leaving any surprises in my stocking (Pants already filled it up), and it's not nearly what it was when I was a kid, but I still get goosebumps. Something's coming, something fun. People all over the world are thinking the same thing, it's fun and exciting to be part of something that big. (I also get a little teary whenever I see a live parade. I know, I'm weird. I blame marching band and my grandmother.)
I'm not huge on Christmas sweaters, but my theory is that if wearing something that others consider to be a holiday monstrosity makes you happy and doesn't harm any small children or animals in the process, go for it. Life is too short to worry about others, wear the thing and don't care about anyone else.
Shopping. I do enjoy a task, especially one that allows me to shop. I love shopping. Duh. It's not retail therapy, but the challenge that I adore. I have a set amount of money and time, so I have to find the best sales in my city. Granted, I try to do my shopping throughout the year. If there's a sale at JCREW during the summer, well I'll stock up and put them in the guest closet and forget about them until it's time to wrap them and send them on their way. This method worked especially good this year. I was able to get hints from people throughout the year on what they wanted/liked and catch three or four unbelievable sales and got almost all my shopping done way early.
I'm thinking about a career in personal shopping. My mother just couldn't find anything for one of my cousins, but she had a ballpark on what she wanted to spend and a general idea of what to get. So Monday I went to work. Within two hours I'd returned videos to Blockbuster, tried to swap a fullscreen edition of Road to Perdition for a widescreen one at BestBuy (they didn't have it), picked up lunch at Wendy's, gotten the rest of my supplies for my Christmas cards at Hobby Lobby and gone to two other stores that had exactly what I needed, on clearance, for my cousin's gift. It was a good day.
I guess what I'm saying is that I'm going to have a great holiday season, eat wonderful food, be thankful for a fantastic family and husband and just enjoy the hell out of everything despite all you holiday haters.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Where have all the monies gone?
Christmas is fast approaching and I find myself watching my money run away just as speedily.
Being poor sucks. Being able to pay all of our bills, but not being able to buy all of the little fun things sucks.
It's so much easier to buy the little things and just be in debt. Happy, but in debt.
A coworker was telling me about a savings account he had for his children's Christmas toys this year. I was so impressed that he'd thought about this so far in advance and had planned it all out. I admire people with strict budgets who actually stick to them.
On the other hand, I've been buying little gifts since last Christmas was over, catching sales here and there, in the hopes that I'd have my shopping done long before Christmas and not have a huge lump sum due because of holiday shopping.
For the most part this has worked pretty well. I do have most of my shopping done, but I keep finding things that would be wonderful to give to people, that I just know that they will love, but I don't have the money to get for them. Furthermore, no one expects me to shell out the money to get them all of these things, but I like to give stuff.
That being said, I did splurge on one gift. Pants will receive it on Christmas and I'll let him brag, if he likes it. I think he will, but I don't know. I'm trying my best to keep it a secret, because he is far too smart and is very likely to guess what it is. I'm going to pull on all of my gifting knowledge to keep it a secret and misdirect him in his guesses, but who knows. The man's a smartie.
It's also weird to get your spouse an expensive gift. Because you share finances, well most spouses do, it's like they've actually bought themselves the gift. Sure, you signed the credit card receipt, but they'll help you pay the bill when it comes. So I'm always tempted to tell Pants not to worry about it and just get me some chocolate or flowers or a small book or something.
Then there's the gift guessing. People that you know, but aren't friends with, people you work with, but don't hang out with, people you've started hanging out with since last Christmas, but don't have a gift history with. What to do? Do you assume and get them something then feel awkward or put them in an awkward place if they didn't get you anything? Do you assume they won't get you anything then feel stupid when they did get you something?
Maybe I should make cookies, everyone likes cookies. Then again, some people are allergic, or don't like raisins.
Being poor sucks. Being able to pay all of our bills, but not being able to buy all of the little fun things sucks.
It's so much easier to buy the little things and just be in debt. Happy, but in debt.
A coworker was telling me about a savings account he had for his children's Christmas toys this year. I was so impressed that he'd thought about this so far in advance and had planned it all out. I admire people with strict budgets who actually stick to them.
On the other hand, I've been buying little gifts since last Christmas was over, catching sales here and there, in the hopes that I'd have my shopping done long before Christmas and not have a huge lump sum due because of holiday shopping.
For the most part this has worked pretty well. I do have most of my shopping done, but I keep finding things that would be wonderful to give to people, that I just know that they will love, but I don't have the money to get for them. Furthermore, no one expects me to shell out the money to get them all of these things, but I like to give stuff.
That being said, I did splurge on one gift. Pants will receive it on Christmas and I'll let him brag, if he likes it. I think he will, but I don't know. I'm trying my best to keep it a secret, because he is far too smart and is very likely to guess what it is. I'm going to pull on all of my gifting knowledge to keep it a secret and misdirect him in his guesses, but who knows. The man's a smartie.
It's also weird to get your spouse an expensive gift. Because you share finances, well most spouses do, it's like they've actually bought themselves the gift. Sure, you signed the credit card receipt, but they'll help you pay the bill when it comes. So I'm always tempted to tell Pants not to worry about it and just get me some chocolate or flowers or a small book or something.
Then there's the gift guessing. People that you know, but aren't friends with, people you work with, but don't hang out with, people you've started hanging out with since last Christmas, but don't have a gift history with. What to do? Do you assume and get them something then feel awkward or put them in an awkward place if they didn't get you anything? Do you assume they won't get you anything then feel stupid when they did get you something?
Maybe I should make cookies, everyone likes cookies. Then again, some people are allergic, or don't like raisins.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Goodbyes are hard, unless it's someone you dislike
Roundup:
Arkansas: You have lovely hills and the leaves are beautiful. The people are (for the most part) very nice and the food is awesome. I love that La Masion du Tart has bushes of herbs growing outside. Also, the fresh bread is so yummy, I had some this morning for breakfast.
Target: To quote Pants, and a tv show, "You magnificent bastard!" I write a post about crocheting and the next day you have yarn and needles available on your dollar aisle? Have you been reading my blog??? Also, I love your dog paraphernalia. My dogs love both their flannel and toile beds that were purchased from your oft-tread aisles.
crocheting/knitting: So I got tons of advice, thanks mostly to Brit, who I hope makes it to the U.S. without much trouble. I also checked out crocheting ( and knitting) for dummies, which have proved pretty useful, except that I'm still lost on how to do a granny square. I followed the instructions, but I think they're just poorly worded, I need lots and lots of pictures to show me what I'm supposed to be doing. OH well. I'll just keep making little doggie sweaters.
Dogs: Love mine.
My little brother's EX-girlfriend: That's right! He broke up with her! Thank goodness, it only took a couple of years, but my little brother has managed to do some pretty amazing (for him) and mature things lately. He broke up with his user girlfriend because he knew she was more into it than he and that it was going no where. Also, he got a good job with a lot of potential to go a lot higher and I think he feels like he's got more of a purpose now.
IPods: They're everywhere and I love mine, but am confused as to how I managed to fill it so fast. I was making my Christmas shopping list the other day and realized that an iPod would be the perfect gift for just about everyone on my list. This, of course, would only be a realistic answer to my shopping needs if I were making about twice what I do now. So. Yeah, homemade scarves it is!
Batman Begins: I loved this movie when it came out, it's still a really awesome movie now. However, in watching it again last weekend, I noticed lots of inconsistencies and things that just wouldn't work. Such as: Raj al Gould is using what is basically a vaporizor for water and creating a poisonous steam out of the city's water supply to make everyone crazy. This wouldn't work. The human body is made up of mostly water, and a vaporizor that was that powerful would have totally vaporized a lot of people that were between the vaporizor and the water supply, as well as the city's water supply. I'm just saying. Granted, it's a movie, it's fiction and we're supposed to suspend belief in reality for the duration of the film. However, they don't tell you the rules, so you assume things like gravity work. Christian Bale, however, makes it worth watching. If you want to watch this young genius in his early years, catch "Empire of the Sun." It's awesome.
Twix: I know I bought you for trick or treaters, but you're all mine, now.
Arkansas: You have lovely hills and the leaves are beautiful. The people are (for the most part) very nice and the food is awesome. I love that La Masion du Tart has bushes of herbs growing outside. Also, the fresh bread is so yummy, I had some this morning for breakfast.
Target: To quote Pants, and a tv show, "You magnificent bastard!" I write a post about crocheting and the next day you have yarn and needles available on your dollar aisle? Have you been reading my blog??? Also, I love your dog paraphernalia. My dogs love both their flannel and toile beds that were purchased from your oft-tread aisles.
crocheting/knitting: So I got tons of advice, thanks mostly to Brit, who I hope makes it to the U.S. without much trouble. I also checked out crocheting ( and knitting) for dummies, which have proved pretty useful, except that I'm still lost on how to do a granny square. I followed the instructions, but I think they're just poorly worded, I need lots and lots of pictures to show me what I'm supposed to be doing. OH well. I'll just keep making little doggie sweaters.
Dogs: Love mine.
My little brother's EX-girlfriend: That's right! He broke up with her! Thank goodness, it only took a couple of years, but my little brother has managed to do some pretty amazing (for him) and mature things lately. He broke up with his user girlfriend because he knew she was more into it than he and that it was going no where. Also, he got a good job with a lot of potential to go a lot higher and I think he feels like he's got more of a purpose now.
IPods: They're everywhere and I love mine, but am confused as to how I managed to fill it so fast. I was making my Christmas shopping list the other day and realized that an iPod would be the perfect gift for just about everyone on my list. This, of course, would only be a realistic answer to my shopping needs if I were making about twice what I do now. So. Yeah, homemade scarves it is!
Batman Begins: I loved this movie when it came out, it's still a really awesome movie now. However, in watching it again last weekend, I noticed lots of inconsistencies and things that just wouldn't work. Such as: Raj al Gould is using what is basically a vaporizor for water and creating a poisonous steam out of the city's water supply to make everyone crazy. This wouldn't work. The human body is made up of mostly water, and a vaporizor that was that powerful would have totally vaporized a lot of people that were between the vaporizor and the water supply, as well as the city's water supply. I'm just saying. Granted, it's a movie, it's fiction and we're supposed to suspend belief in reality for the duration of the film. However, they don't tell you the rules, so you assume things like gravity work. Christian Bale, however, makes it worth watching. If you want to watch this young genius in his early years, catch "Empire of the Sun." It's awesome.
Twix: I know I bought you for trick or treaters, but you're all mine, now.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
All purled up with no where to go
OK people, I need some suggestions. Unlike Pants, I'm not asking the hard-hitting questions like "What ring-tone should I get?" That's already a given, I'll be using "Sex bomb" by Tom Jones. My query is a bit more knotty, literally. When I was very little, my grandma taught me to crochet.
Nothing fancy, but I could chain like a mo-fo, and, in fourth-grade moved on to single and double stitches. I was mass-producing the coolest scarves in the world. All sorts of colors and yarns, but they all had the same stitches. Borrrringg.
So in college I taught myself to knit by reading Web sites. I thought this could be my out, I could finally start doing crazy bags or ponchos for my dog. Not so much. For some reason knitting just seems to take even longer than crocheting, so I've gone back to the crocheting.
In the past two weeks, I've done two scarves, a manly blue one for my brother and a shorter, thicker one that has a slit on one of the ends so you can pull the other side of it through for my mom. I'm going to add some beads that pick up the color later, to "fancy" it up a bit, but my yarn imagination is reaching a stretching point. I need help people.
Does anyone know of any good, simple instruction books for crocheting or knitting? Any good places to take classes? I've found that I learn this kind of thing best when someone just shows me how. I'd love to get into doing sweater, cardigans, bags etc. Any ideas?
Nothing fancy, but I could chain like a mo-fo, and, in fourth-grade moved on to single and double stitches. I was mass-producing the coolest scarves in the world. All sorts of colors and yarns, but they all had the same stitches. Borrrringg.
So in college I taught myself to knit by reading Web sites. I thought this could be my out, I could finally start doing crazy bags or ponchos for my dog. Not so much. For some reason knitting just seems to take even longer than crocheting, so I've gone back to the crocheting.
In the past two weeks, I've done two scarves, a manly blue one for my brother and a shorter, thicker one that has a slit on one of the ends so you can pull the other side of it through for my mom. I'm going to add some beads that pick up the color later, to "fancy" it up a bit, but my yarn imagination is reaching a stretching point. I need help people.
Does anyone know of any good, simple instruction books for crocheting or knitting? Any good places to take classes? I've found that I learn this kind of thing best when someone just shows me how. I'd love to get into doing sweater, cardigans, bags etc. Any ideas?
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Just don't know what to do with myself
Actually, I do. I've got tons of cleaning to do. I have company coming over tomorrow and an office that Pant swore he was going to clean, but is still flooded with comic books all over the floor. But I thought I'd take time and procrastinate and give a few thoughts on things.
Hurricanes:
They suck. All of 'em. For many reasons.
IRA disarmament:
Let's hope this lasts for a while. I was listening to NPR and Terry Gross, I think, was interviewing an official who wouldn't tell her what actually happened to the arms. He kept saying that they'd been rendered unusable and that was good enough, he couldn't say more because of secrecy concerns. Well you know what? If the IRA hears that you've melted all of their arms, they're certainly not going to try to break into whatever storehouse you have these stockpiled in and steal them back. Just seems like they could have done a little counter-offensive with the PR there.
Bring the abortion issue to SCOTUS: (I describe partial-birth abortion here, so you may want to skip to the next item or quit reading altogether)
Bad idea if it's to repeal Roe V. Wade, good idea if it's about partial birth abortions with the vital exemptions made for minors and those births that would kill the mother or child. I'm not saying it's a good idea to kill babies. Period. But that's a choice I've made for myself. If some woman is out there and gets raped and doesn't want to be pregnant by that bastard and gets an abortion right away or takes the day after pill, I think she should have that option. Same goes for a woman that finds out the kid she's carrying is going to be stillborn, etc. I think it's just not a black and white issue and we need to allow for all of the grey out there.
And this is one issue where I don't think men should be allowed to vote or have a say what-so-ever. None. It's certainly not their bodies and only an issue that they will ever have to deal with second-hand, if that. I don't think that a 50 something old man who fucked up the majority of his early life and is now fucking up the country, who will never, ever be pregnant, or raped by anyone besides Cheney, should be able to tell me what to do with my reproductive system.
Having said all of that, however, I will definitely have children and wouldn't have an abortion. I do take precautions, which I think a lot more people should. I think birth control should be free, I don't care how obscene it is to have a condom dispenser in the high school, as long as it works, why should you? They're going to do it anyway, it's not encouraging them to have sex, that would be if we left copies of porn or kama sutras around the halls of learning.
As for partial birth abortions, I'm not sure what late-night television channel it was, but one morning, about 4 a.m. I saw one of these performed on TV. OH. MY. GOD. It was horrible. They take a lady who's pretty late term, full belly and all, someone who could probably be induced into labor right then and the baby would live, it'd be a premie, but it'd live and might grow up just fine. Anyway, they take this lady and go inside her and pull the baby out feet first. They pull it until just the head is still inside the lady. Then, they take a sharp instrument and stick it up into the baby's head where it's skull meets the neck and scramble the poor little baby's brains out. They can do this because the infant is still technically inside the mom when the head is in there. If they did it after completely removing the baby then it'd be murder. So you can see why this would be a bad thing. I mean, if you're that far along, why not just deliver it and give it up for adoption? It's not like you didn't have seven or eight months to think about it.
The White Stripes:
You two still rock the Kasbah and everything in between.
As for Cindy, mom of dead soldier, Sheehan:
Good for you. I don't care if people attack you personally or say that you're using your dead son's memory to advance your opinions. That's what the other side is doing, so it's only fair to fight fire with fire. We have the right to free speech, you have the right to tell the president of the united states that you don't like the job he's doing representing you. I hate that, for expressing your opinion and letting people know that you aren't for the status quo and that something's not right about the way things are being done, you are being punished. If it'd been a protest FOR the war, the protestors would never have been arrested, FOX would have just had them on their TV and the story would have been something about all of the support the nation has for bush junior or something and how great America is that people can express their opinion. The problem is that we're such a big country that not everyone can do this and we only get two or three people, like rice, Cheney, rove and the president's nanny telling him what a great job he's doing while millions across the world hate him and millions in his own country are starting to realize they've elected a leader that only makes monkey faces to cameras and speeches where he repeats himself over and over without actually telling you anything. Then there's the millions who hated him to begin with and are embarrassed to call themselves American because we didn't vote for the bastard and are ashamed over what he's doing to the country. That and we have the leader of the most powerful country in the world and he sounds like a first-grader from hicksville (and that's an insult to people from hicksville) who can't pronounce words! But, whatever, he's going to be our fuck-up for the next few years, so I'm just going to sigh and try not to get too upset over it, he's not worth it. When I travel abroad, I'll just tell people I'm from Canada.
Dogs:
One of mine is now AKC registered and the other I got for $10 at the animal shelter. I love them both. They're mine, you can't have them!
Flat, India-inspired sequined shoes:
Love 'em. I'm so glad that fashion is going back to flat shoes and that we can find something so comfy. Plus, who doesn't love a little taste of India? OK, my little taste is some sweet Naan bread, the tiki masala made me nauseous, but it may have just been that restaurant.
My brother's girlfriend:
I don't care if you two are moving in together, you're still not part of my family. I know all about how he broke up with you and how you cursed him up and down and your little pregnancy scare and how you treated him and then how you freaked him out enough that he took you back. You realize he's just using you for the sex and that he doesn't want to marry you, right? God, I hope he doesn't just marry you because you tell him to, because that's the kind of thing he'll do because he doesn't know better. You don't inspire him to be a better person. If you loved him, you'd tell him that he's gained to much weight (nicely) and you'd encourage him to go back to school or get a job that he loves. For whatever reason, though, he's keeping you in his life and on the off chance that you legally become part of our family, I'll be polite to you. But I'm watching you, one mis-step and you're out. No one mistreats my family. I've been watching Godfather movies, so I have tons of ideas of what to do with hoochie mammas that mistreat one of the family. You've been warned.
Hurricanes:
They suck. All of 'em. For many reasons.
IRA disarmament:
Let's hope this lasts for a while. I was listening to NPR and Terry Gross, I think, was interviewing an official who wouldn't tell her what actually happened to the arms. He kept saying that they'd been rendered unusable and that was good enough, he couldn't say more because of secrecy concerns. Well you know what? If the IRA hears that you've melted all of their arms, they're certainly not going to try to break into whatever storehouse you have these stockpiled in and steal them back. Just seems like they could have done a little counter-offensive with the PR there.
Bring the abortion issue to SCOTUS: (I describe partial-birth abortion here, so you may want to skip to the next item or quit reading altogether)
Bad idea if it's to repeal Roe V. Wade, good idea if it's about partial birth abortions with the vital exemptions made for minors and those births that would kill the mother or child. I'm not saying it's a good idea to kill babies. Period. But that's a choice I've made for myself. If some woman is out there and gets raped and doesn't want to be pregnant by that bastard and gets an abortion right away or takes the day after pill, I think she should have that option. Same goes for a woman that finds out the kid she's carrying is going to be stillborn, etc. I think it's just not a black and white issue and we need to allow for all of the grey out there.
And this is one issue where I don't think men should be allowed to vote or have a say what-so-ever. None. It's certainly not their bodies and only an issue that they will ever have to deal with second-hand, if that. I don't think that a 50 something old man who fucked up the majority of his early life and is now fucking up the country, who will never, ever be pregnant, or raped by anyone besides Cheney, should be able to tell me what to do with my reproductive system.
Having said all of that, however, I will definitely have children and wouldn't have an abortion. I do take precautions, which I think a lot more people should. I think birth control should be free, I don't care how obscene it is to have a condom dispenser in the high school, as long as it works, why should you? They're going to do it anyway, it's not encouraging them to have sex, that would be if we left copies of porn or kama sutras around the halls of learning.
As for partial birth abortions, I'm not sure what late-night television channel it was, but one morning, about 4 a.m. I saw one of these performed on TV. OH. MY. GOD. It was horrible. They take a lady who's pretty late term, full belly and all, someone who could probably be induced into labor right then and the baby would live, it'd be a premie, but it'd live and might grow up just fine. Anyway, they take this lady and go inside her and pull the baby out feet first. They pull it until just the head is still inside the lady. Then, they take a sharp instrument and stick it up into the baby's head where it's skull meets the neck and scramble the poor little baby's brains out. They can do this because the infant is still technically inside the mom when the head is in there. If they did it after completely removing the baby then it'd be murder. So you can see why this would be a bad thing. I mean, if you're that far along, why not just deliver it and give it up for adoption? It's not like you didn't have seven or eight months to think about it.
The White Stripes:
You two still rock the Kasbah and everything in between.
As for Cindy, mom of dead soldier, Sheehan:
Good for you. I don't care if people attack you personally or say that you're using your dead son's memory to advance your opinions. That's what the other side is doing, so it's only fair to fight fire with fire. We have the right to free speech, you have the right to tell the president of the united states that you don't like the job he's doing representing you. I hate that, for expressing your opinion and letting people know that you aren't for the status quo and that something's not right about the way things are being done, you are being punished. If it'd been a protest FOR the war, the protestors would never have been arrested, FOX would have just had them on their TV and the story would have been something about all of the support the nation has for bush junior or something and how great America is that people can express their opinion. The problem is that we're such a big country that not everyone can do this and we only get two or three people, like rice, Cheney, rove and the president's nanny telling him what a great job he's doing while millions across the world hate him and millions in his own country are starting to realize they've elected a leader that only makes monkey faces to cameras and speeches where he repeats himself over and over without actually telling you anything. Then there's the millions who hated him to begin with and are embarrassed to call themselves American because we didn't vote for the bastard and are ashamed over what he's doing to the country. That and we have the leader of the most powerful country in the world and he sounds like a first-grader from hicksville (and that's an insult to people from hicksville) who can't pronounce words! But, whatever, he's going to be our fuck-up for the next few years, so I'm just going to sigh and try not to get too upset over it, he's not worth it. When I travel abroad, I'll just tell people I'm from Canada.
Dogs:
One of mine is now AKC registered and the other I got for $10 at the animal shelter. I love them both. They're mine, you can't have them!
Flat, India-inspired sequined shoes:
Love 'em. I'm so glad that fashion is going back to flat shoes and that we can find something so comfy. Plus, who doesn't love a little taste of India? OK, my little taste is some sweet Naan bread, the tiki masala made me nauseous, but it may have just been that restaurant.
My brother's girlfriend:
I don't care if you two are moving in together, you're still not part of my family. I know all about how he broke up with you and how you cursed him up and down and your little pregnancy scare and how you treated him and then how you freaked him out enough that he took you back. You realize he's just using you for the sex and that he doesn't want to marry you, right? God, I hope he doesn't just marry you because you tell him to, because that's the kind of thing he'll do because he doesn't know better. You don't inspire him to be a better person. If you loved him, you'd tell him that he's gained to much weight (nicely) and you'd encourage him to go back to school or get a job that he loves. For whatever reason, though, he's keeping you in his life and on the off chance that you legally become part of our family, I'll be polite to you. But I'm watching you, one mis-step and you're out. No one mistreats my family. I've been watching Godfather movies, so I have tons of ideas of what to do with hoochie mammas that mistreat one of the family. You've been warned.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
I swear I'm not a hypocondriac ...
I'm not. Really. But I did go to the doctor yesterday. And it was the first time I've been since I got the flu about two years ago. On that fateful visit, I was crazy with fever and felt the need to sing "I'm a little teapot" while waiting three hours in the waiting room and another two hours in the room where you actually see the doctor. Yes, I sang, but I was in great pain and it was then, putting up with my craziness, that I knew Pants loved me.
I knew he loved me before, but this was the "in sickness" part of the vow. He took his book, something about a bite on a corn dog, and read and murmmered an occasional "yes dear" to me while I crawled the walls looking for the green doctor who I was sure was hiding in the air vent.
My experience yesterday was much better. I came prepared, loaded up with bottled water, a book on Henry XIII and my crocheting. I opened the front door of the after hours clinic though, and was faced with an empty waiting room. I didn't think I had a fever, but I was sure this had to be a mirage. I cautiously approached the receptionist, and she gave me the necessary paperwork to fill out right away. No waiting.
My name was called and I was ushered into a room to see a doctor right away. I thought, this will be a nice change, I won't feel so guilty for taking up the doctor's time because there aren't any other patients and he's getting paid to be here regardless. Turns out I did have a fever, and higher blood pressure than normal, the nurse said that was because I was sick, but I think that was because I'd just gotten off work.
The doctor came in and hardly made eye contact. I tried to look appropriately sick enough, but both he and the nurse looked at me distrustingly at first, like they assumed I was faking. Seeing as they had my chart right in front of them and could tell that I hadn't been there in about two years, I felt this was unjustified. If I come to you, and you are a trained, professional healer, and I tell you I'm in pain -- try and freakin' heal me! Don't assume I'm a liar or drug addict. It's not like I can get primo narcotics for sinusitus (which is what it turned out that I have). Well, I suppose I can, but that's never been an option afforded to me.
I always feel like I'm such an imposition to these doctors, and it's not specific to this clinic. I know they've got a busy day and only so many minutes to wait on each person and are probably overbooked, but none of that is my fault and I'm in pain. If I had my druthers, I would so not be bothering them and would definitely be saving my money instead of giving them another co-payment.
If I tell you I'm in pain, I'm serious. I'm not making this up and I'd rather not be here. I know you're busy, so I prepared my list of ailments, and the time frames in which I experienced said illnesses for you. Maybe that's why they are suspicious, I've got everything ready. They mistake my preparedness for some fabrication I've been planning to get some precious antibiotics and nasal spray.
Also, I hate nasal sprays. It seems wrong to have an adult tell me to put something up my nose on purpose, which my mom always told me was a bad thing. Also, breathing a liquid up into my nose, throat and lungs, makes me feel a bit like choking, so fun times. Pants told me this morning I'd never be good at cocaine. Oh well, I guess I'll have to put my dreams of being a junkie away with the one about being an orthodontist. (Mine drove jaguars.)
So, $100 poorer and much more medicated, today is a better day. I just sound like crap and am coughing. Despite all that, I'm not contagious ... so let's hug it out bitch!
I knew he loved me before, but this was the "in sickness" part of the vow. He took his book, something about a bite on a corn dog, and read and murmmered an occasional "yes dear" to me while I crawled the walls looking for the green doctor who I was sure was hiding in the air vent.
My experience yesterday was much better. I came prepared, loaded up with bottled water, a book on Henry XIII and my crocheting. I opened the front door of the after hours clinic though, and was faced with an empty waiting room. I didn't think I had a fever, but I was sure this had to be a mirage. I cautiously approached the receptionist, and she gave me the necessary paperwork to fill out right away. No waiting.
My name was called and I was ushered into a room to see a doctor right away. I thought, this will be a nice change, I won't feel so guilty for taking up the doctor's time because there aren't any other patients and he's getting paid to be here regardless. Turns out I did have a fever, and higher blood pressure than normal, the nurse said that was because I was sick, but I think that was because I'd just gotten off work.
The doctor came in and hardly made eye contact. I tried to look appropriately sick enough, but both he and the nurse looked at me distrustingly at first, like they assumed I was faking. Seeing as they had my chart right in front of them and could tell that I hadn't been there in about two years, I felt this was unjustified. If I come to you, and you are a trained, professional healer, and I tell you I'm in pain -- try and freakin' heal me! Don't assume I'm a liar or drug addict. It's not like I can get primo narcotics for sinusitus (which is what it turned out that I have). Well, I suppose I can, but that's never been an option afforded to me.
I always feel like I'm such an imposition to these doctors, and it's not specific to this clinic. I know they've got a busy day and only so many minutes to wait on each person and are probably overbooked, but none of that is my fault and I'm in pain. If I had my druthers, I would so not be bothering them and would definitely be saving my money instead of giving them another co-payment.
If I tell you I'm in pain, I'm serious. I'm not making this up and I'd rather not be here. I know you're busy, so I prepared my list of ailments, and the time frames in which I experienced said illnesses for you. Maybe that's why they are suspicious, I've got everything ready. They mistake my preparedness for some fabrication I've been planning to get some precious antibiotics and nasal spray.
Also, I hate nasal sprays. It seems wrong to have an adult tell me to put something up my nose on purpose, which my mom always told me was a bad thing. Also, breathing a liquid up into my nose, throat and lungs, makes me feel a bit like choking, so fun times. Pants told me this morning I'd never be good at cocaine. Oh well, I guess I'll have to put my dreams of being a junkie away with the one about being an orthodontist. (Mine drove jaguars.)
So, $100 poorer and much more medicated, today is a better day. I just sound like crap and am coughing. Despite all that, I'm not contagious ... so let's hug it out bitch!
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Where the Hell are you?
Do you ever wonder what happened to old friends? About once a month, I think about what my friend from France is doing. Did she kill herself as I fear? Did she end up dumping her drug habit and going to school? Did she hook up with some German tourist who smelled like Drakkar Noir and have a bunch of babies?
The last time I heard from her was seven years ago. It was the summer between high school and college. I was working for my aunt and uncle, who owned a motel and a coffee/icecream/sandwich shoppe (that's how they spelled it) in mountains in Colorado. They liked to hire foreign exchange students to work for them, so it made sense that the first person I ever had to share a room with was half Japanese, half French.
Her name was Miya, her father was a Japanese sleep scientist working in France and her mother was French and had killed herself by jumping off of a building shortly before Miya came to the U.S.
I guess I'd lived a pretty sheltered life, and she was a breath of scary, fresh air. Her first day, she showed up wearing a sports bra and some floppy pants, highlighting her diamond encrusted belly button ring. I'd never been around someone who I knew had a belly button ring.
I wasn't sure about her at first, she came off as very worldly and intimidating. However, because I can't help myself and love to tell other people how to do things, I started helping her understand both American slang and culture, and we became very good friends.
The beginning was rough. We got up early every morning, walked down the mountain to the motel, then worked until noon as maids cleaning and making beds. After an hour lunch break, we'd go to work in the ice cream shop.
On one of our days off, I came back to our shared room at my aunt an uncle's very large house to find her passed out on the floor of the bathroom. Oh, did I forget to say that she was an anorexic/bulemic who'd been taking her dead mother's antidepressants and other medications? She'd evidently binged on a jar of peanut butter from the pantry and smeared it all over the walls of the bathroom before passing out.
I called my aunt, who took away Miya's stolen medications and I think had a serious talk with her. I was freaked out by this, but wanted to help her get better.
For the rest of the summer, we had a lot of fun and I introduced her to Beavis and Butthead, one of my favorite movies "French Kiss" (She said Kevin Kline's accent was horrible), horseback riding, the natural hot springs, and even driving.
While I didn't bring my car with me to Colorado, (hence I walked/hiked everywhere and was in the best shape of my life), I did have a high school friend come visit me and I taught Miya to drive his car. Despite being a few years older than me, living in France had not afforded her the chance to ever get behind the wheel. She was delighted for the experience and taught me a smattering of French that summer.
She told me she had an older sister in Germany who kind of looked out for her and a younger brother that was still living with her dad in France. She didn't know what she was going to do once she got back to France, but she did say she was going to move out of her boyfriend's apartment. She said she'd thought about suicide before, but didn't think she could do it. She wouldn't really talk about her mom, understandable. We didn't really talk about guys much, but she did manage to pick up a few of the single motel guests.
When I left to go to college at the end of summer, she stayed on for another month in Colorado. She sent me a few pictures a month later. I wrote to her in Colorado and in France, but have never heard back from her.
I still wonder what she's doing, or if she's even alive. And I always think of her when I smell the perfume magique noir.
The last time I heard from her was seven years ago. It was the summer between high school and college. I was working for my aunt and uncle, who owned a motel and a coffee/icecream/sandwich shoppe (that's how they spelled it) in mountains in Colorado. They liked to hire foreign exchange students to work for them, so it made sense that the first person I ever had to share a room with was half Japanese, half French.
Her name was Miya, her father was a Japanese sleep scientist working in France and her mother was French and had killed herself by jumping off of a building shortly before Miya came to the U.S.
I guess I'd lived a pretty sheltered life, and she was a breath of scary, fresh air. Her first day, she showed up wearing a sports bra and some floppy pants, highlighting her diamond encrusted belly button ring. I'd never been around someone who I knew had a belly button ring.
I wasn't sure about her at first, she came off as very worldly and intimidating. However, because I can't help myself and love to tell other people how to do things, I started helping her understand both American slang and culture, and we became very good friends.
The beginning was rough. We got up early every morning, walked down the mountain to the motel, then worked until noon as maids cleaning and making beds. After an hour lunch break, we'd go to work in the ice cream shop.
On one of our days off, I came back to our shared room at my aunt an uncle's very large house to find her passed out on the floor of the bathroom. Oh, did I forget to say that she was an anorexic/bulemic who'd been taking her dead mother's antidepressants and other medications? She'd evidently binged on a jar of peanut butter from the pantry and smeared it all over the walls of the bathroom before passing out.
I called my aunt, who took away Miya's stolen medications and I think had a serious talk with her. I was freaked out by this, but wanted to help her get better.
For the rest of the summer, we had a lot of fun and I introduced her to Beavis and Butthead, one of my favorite movies "French Kiss" (She said Kevin Kline's accent was horrible), horseback riding, the natural hot springs, and even driving.
While I didn't bring my car with me to Colorado, (hence I walked/hiked everywhere and was in the best shape of my life), I did have a high school friend come visit me and I taught Miya to drive his car. Despite being a few years older than me, living in France had not afforded her the chance to ever get behind the wheel. She was delighted for the experience and taught me a smattering of French that summer.
She told me she had an older sister in Germany who kind of looked out for her and a younger brother that was still living with her dad in France. She didn't know what she was going to do once she got back to France, but she did say she was going to move out of her boyfriend's apartment. She said she'd thought about suicide before, but didn't think she could do it. She wouldn't really talk about her mom, understandable. We didn't really talk about guys much, but she did manage to pick up a few of the single motel guests.
When I left to go to college at the end of summer, she stayed on for another month in Colorado. She sent me a few pictures a month later. I wrote to her in Colorado and in France, but have never heard back from her.
I still wonder what she's doing, or if she's even alive. And I always think of her when I smell the perfume magique noir.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Monday, July 18, 2005
Done, and I totally know who the half-blood prince is
Okay. Wow. I just finished HPATHBP, and it was by far one of the best books I've read in years.
I couldn't make myself slow down at the end, I had to know what was happening as fast as possible! It is such a fantastic story, the intelligence behind the writing is unbelievable. And, even though I'm at work, I even cried a bit at the end. (Not because it was over, which is a bit sad, but because a major character that I liked had died.)
J.K. Rowling has tied this series up and prepared the reader for the final book, the last chapter in the Harry Potter saga and I can't wait to see what comes next! There were things in this book (the sixth) that I'd wondered about since the first, she's just that good of a writer.
I must admit that after I finished reading, I had a thought I was kind of ashamed of. What if Rowling dies before she finishes the series? I selfishly hope that she's left some sort of plans for the seventh and final book somewhere, just in case. Crude, I know, but it would be horrible for her to die period, but it would be truly horrible for her to go without getting to finish what she started. She claims to have not told even her husband what she's got planned for Harry and Co., but who knows. I'd have a backup somewhere outlining the details, then again, she may not want anyone to finish it for her.
I think I'm going to go re-read it now ...
I couldn't make myself slow down at the end, I had to know what was happening as fast as possible! It is such a fantastic story, the intelligence behind the writing is unbelievable. And, even though I'm at work, I even cried a bit at the end. (Not because it was over, which is a bit sad, but because a major character that I liked had died.)
J.K. Rowling has tied this series up and prepared the reader for the final book, the last chapter in the Harry Potter saga and I can't wait to see what comes next! There were things in this book (the sixth) that I'd wondered about since the first, she's just that good of a writer.
I must admit that after I finished reading, I had a thought I was kind of ashamed of. What if Rowling dies before she finishes the series? I selfishly hope that she's left some sort of plans for the seventh and final book somewhere, just in case. Crude, I know, but it would be horrible for her to die period, but it would be truly horrible for her to go without getting to finish what she started. She claims to have not told even her husband what she's got planned for Harry and Co., but who knows. I'd have a backup somewhere outlining the details, then again, she may not want anyone to finish it for her.
I think I'm going to go re-read it now ...
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Shush! I'm trying to read here...
It's here. It arrived today in the mailbox, all wrapped up in a white Amazon box with warnings on the sides: "Don't open until July 16!" "Do not deliver until July 16!"
I smuggled it inside and carefully opened the box, having some ambiguous idea for keeping the wrapping to show my mom or put in a scrapbook later. ...It'll probably get thrown away though.
I must admit, I've been less than enthused about the release of this book, until today, when I started reading it.
During the summer break between my sophomore and junior years in college, my editor at the magazine I was interning at insisted that I read these "Potter" books. Until then, I'd been dismissing them as some kind of peripheral children's phenomenon. But, if a 60-year-old menopausal woman could be so insistent, I'd give it a try. Thank goodness I did, not that it takes much to get me to read a book. I used to drive my parents crazy by bringing a good paperback to any and all sporting events we attended.
I read "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" (book #3) first. It started off slow, then I was hooked. I was delighted to find that there were a few others in the series and proceeded to read "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" (book #1) then, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" (book #2), then I decided to go ahead and read the last one out at the time, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" (book #4). (Which also is my favorite in the series.) I had Potter fever.
Not too long after I started my current job, I was excited to hear that the fifth book, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" was coming out. I've learned to temper my excitement over the Little Wizard that Could, however, because of the state we live in. Maybe I should just say some of the people in the state we live in.
I was talking to someone I know about the release, she was telling me that it shouldn't be getting as much publicity as it was and I asked her why she thought this. ( I know, I shouldn't have asked) She told me that she thought Harry Potter was how the devil got to children. She really, honestly, thinks that the devil himself is penning these books in order to enslave children worldround. She bases this, not on having ever read any of the books, but what she's heard about them and all of that witchcraft that it teaches children. Yeah..... I'm wondering if she's ever told her child any fairy tales? Anything that's not "real?" I know she doesn't go home and read the obits to her kid every night.
This is an otherwise very nice person that I like talking with. I was just blown away that she felt this way about a novel, something totally imaginary that's sold a lot of copies and has encouraged children and adults alike to read. Yeah, an escape mechanism for people that doesn't include a hangover but might increase your vocabulary or creativity ... I could totally see how that's a bad thing.
Anyway, back to my books! (Yes, I used a possessive, I bought 'em and I have conversations with J.K., granted, she's got that pesky restraining order....)
I read the fifth book in record time ( I love how everyone is always so proud of how fast they've read these books) and was a bit disappointed. The story moved along pretty fast, but there were so many questions raised and I hate waiting for the next installation to come out.
When I heard "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" had a release date, I immediately ordered it on Amazon and circled every calendar I owned. When the time finally came, I didn't even get out my black circle glasses and put them on my desk. I'm a bit ashamed to say that I have been really busy with "adult" things like work, and cleaning the house, that I kinda forgot.
When I found the book in the mailbox today, the excitement started to come back. When I sat on our (new) couch and opened the book, sniffed the new paper and ink smell and started the first chapter, it all came back. I LOVE THIS SERIES! Pants and I have even talked about naming our first son Harry.
I am trying to take it slow and savor the story, but I've already found a typo or two. So far, so good, the story is moving a lot better than the fifth book. Pants already knows he won't be seeing much of me for the next few days. The dogs will be a bit confused, but that's nothing new.
I have two more books that I've been waiting on since last year that will finally be released in August. I'll post more on them once I get them. Until then, I've got a book to finish!
I smuggled it inside and carefully opened the box, having some ambiguous idea for keeping the wrapping to show my mom or put in a scrapbook later. ...It'll probably get thrown away though.
I must admit, I've been less than enthused about the release of this book, until today, when I started reading it.
During the summer break between my sophomore and junior years in college, my editor at the magazine I was interning at insisted that I read these "Potter" books. Until then, I'd been dismissing them as some kind of peripheral children's phenomenon. But, if a 60-year-old menopausal woman could be so insistent, I'd give it a try. Thank goodness I did, not that it takes much to get me to read a book. I used to drive my parents crazy by bringing a good paperback to any and all sporting events we attended.
I read "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" (book #3) first. It started off slow, then I was hooked. I was delighted to find that there were a few others in the series and proceeded to read "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" (book #1) then, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" (book #2), then I decided to go ahead and read the last one out at the time, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" (book #4). (Which also is my favorite in the series.) I had Potter fever.
Not too long after I started my current job, I was excited to hear that the fifth book, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" was coming out. I've learned to temper my excitement over the Little Wizard that Could, however, because of the state we live in. Maybe I should just say some of the people in the state we live in.
I was talking to someone I know about the release, she was telling me that it shouldn't be getting as much publicity as it was and I asked her why she thought this. ( I know, I shouldn't have asked) She told me that she thought Harry Potter was how the devil got to children. She really, honestly, thinks that the devil himself is penning these books in order to enslave children worldround. She bases this, not on having ever read any of the books, but what she's heard about them and all of that witchcraft that it teaches children. Yeah..... I'm wondering if she's ever told her child any fairy tales? Anything that's not "real?" I know she doesn't go home and read the obits to her kid every night.
This is an otherwise very nice person that I like talking with. I was just blown away that she felt this way about a novel, something totally imaginary that's sold a lot of copies and has encouraged children and adults alike to read. Yeah, an escape mechanism for people that doesn't include a hangover but might increase your vocabulary or creativity ... I could totally see how that's a bad thing.
Anyway, back to my books! (Yes, I used a possessive, I bought 'em and I have conversations with J.K., granted, she's got that pesky restraining order....)
I read the fifth book in record time ( I love how everyone is always so proud of how fast they've read these books) and was a bit disappointed. The story moved along pretty fast, but there were so many questions raised and I hate waiting for the next installation to come out.
When I heard "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" had a release date, I immediately ordered it on Amazon and circled every calendar I owned. When the time finally came, I didn't even get out my black circle glasses and put them on my desk. I'm a bit ashamed to say that I have been really busy with "adult" things like work, and cleaning the house, that I kinda forgot.
When I found the book in the mailbox today, the excitement started to come back. When I sat on our (new) couch and opened the book, sniffed the new paper and ink smell and started the first chapter, it all came back. I LOVE THIS SERIES! Pants and I have even talked about naming our first son Harry.
I am trying to take it slow and savor the story, but I've already found a typo or two. So far, so good, the story is moving a lot better than the fifth book. Pants already knows he won't be seeing much of me for the next few days. The dogs will be a bit confused, but that's nothing new.
I have two more books that I've been waiting on since last year that will finally be released in August. I'll post more on them once I get them. Until then, I've got a book to finish!
Thursday, July 07, 2005
London calling
I'm continually amazed at people. In surfing the internet and watching TV, admittedly not always the best news sources, but sometimes the fastest, I found a dearth of people quoted/talking about how surprising this was and how they were "shocked."
Really? Terrorism in this day and age surprises you? Most of the world is at war with someone else for various reasons, people are dying daily from all sorts of abuse from other people and explosions in London surprise you?
It couldn't be that it's a major metropolitan city, could it? I couldn't be that it's the country hosting one of the world's largest meetings of superpowers right now. Or that they just won the Olympic bid, or that the city's been around for thousands of years, or that it has lots of countries pissed at it for colonization and many other global enemies.
I also dislike how some people assume it was Middle Eastern terrorists. Get over yourself. It very well could be, but it could also be lots of other people that have very different beefs with London. Hell, it could be just a crazy Brit, mad because they lost their job.
Does the media give fair play to all assumptions? (I'm not sure why they're even covering assumptions, instead of watching for cold, hard facts, but I guess they have to have something on the air constantly.)
In listening to the radio this morning (it happened to be on the "Sports Animal," a channel I loathe), the local jocks were saying how atrocious this was (agreed there), and how these "people," these Arab terrorists were all out to get us for our love of freedom (what the Hell?) and how we should stop these people. I'm not sure, but I think they totally convicted the entire Middle East. Made me wonder if they had better sources than the AP or were just their usual jack-ass selves.
The only thing that was kind of curious this morning was the total lack of comment from the Queen or any of the royal family. I know they're just figure heads, but at least they could pop those powerless faces out of their hidy-holes and give a comment.
All that being said, I'm still going back to London. The time I spent there was one of the happiest in my life and I'm totally dragging Pants across the pond to experience it. The city is amazing and resilient, it has to be to have been around for this long. I can't wait!
Really? Terrorism in this day and age surprises you? Most of the world is at war with someone else for various reasons, people are dying daily from all sorts of abuse from other people and explosions in London surprise you?
It couldn't be that it's a major metropolitan city, could it? I couldn't be that it's the country hosting one of the world's largest meetings of superpowers right now. Or that they just won the Olympic bid, or that the city's been around for thousands of years, or that it has lots of countries pissed at it for colonization and many other global enemies.
I also dislike how some people assume it was Middle Eastern terrorists. Get over yourself. It very well could be, but it could also be lots of other people that have very different beefs with London. Hell, it could be just a crazy Brit, mad because they lost their job.
Does the media give fair play to all assumptions? (I'm not sure why they're even covering assumptions, instead of watching for cold, hard facts, but I guess they have to have something on the air constantly.)
In listening to the radio this morning (it happened to be on the "Sports Animal," a channel I loathe), the local jocks were saying how atrocious this was (agreed there), and how these "people," these Arab terrorists were all out to get us for our love of freedom (what the Hell?) and how we should stop these people. I'm not sure, but I think they totally convicted the entire Middle East. Made me wonder if they had better sources than the AP or were just their usual jack-ass selves.
The only thing that was kind of curious this morning was the total lack of comment from the Queen or any of the royal family. I know they're just figure heads, but at least they could pop those powerless faces out of their hidy-holes and give a comment.
All that being said, I'm still going back to London. The time I spent there was one of the happiest in my life and I'm totally dragging Pants across the pond to experience it. The city is amazing and resilient, it has to be to have been around for this long. I can't wait!
Friday, June 24, 2005
Five Things that Society At large Likes, Yet I Don't Get
No one asked me, but I don't care.
1. El presidente/Cheney/Halliburton - Even though this is the internet, I don't think there's enough room to express my dislike. These are evil monopolizers that America is letting rape the world and butcher it's reputation, or what's left of it.
2. Stupid people reproducing * Why is it so important every time a "star" has a baby? Why do some of the most retarded people feel the need to have as many kids as possible? Should Cheeto-eating, barefoot-in-a-gas-station-bathroom, no-class Brittany be having a child? Probably not. Seriously, she married a guy that cheated on his PREGNANT girlfriend...hello?
3. Certain schools in this state that has the colors of red and white. - Not so much the actual learning institution, just 70% of the people that attended the school and everyone in the state how will defend the school to their death, despite never having stepped foot on the campus. Having been to several of their football games, I saw way too many mullet-wearing fans throw trash, beer, ice and other debris at the opposing team's band members. Class acts.
4. Country music - The sound of our "leader" trying to pronounce the name of a foreign country couldn't disturb me more. It's off-key, flat, disjointed and very rarely makes sense. *Qualifier* I'm only talking about current country, Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn still rock.
5. Pop-tartletts - People, quit paying attention to these vapid, spoiled brats and they may just go away or waste their fortunes trying to gain your attention back.
1. El presidente/Cheney/Halliburton - Even though this is the internet, I don't think there's enough room to express my dislike. These are evil monopolizers that America is letting rape the world and butcher it's reputation, or what's left of it.
2. Stupid people reproducing * Why is it so important every time a "star" has a baby? Why do some of the most retarded people feel the need to have as many kids as possible? Should Cheeto-eating, barefoot-in-a-gas-station-bathroom, no-class Brittany be having a child? Probably not. Seriously, she married a guy that cheated on his PREGNANT girlfriend...hello?
3. Certain schools in this state that has the colors of red and white. - Not so much the actual learning institution, just 70% of the people that attended the school and everyone in the state how will defend the school to their death, despite never having stepped foot on the campus. Having been to several of their football games, I saw way too many mullet-wearing fans throw trash, beer, ice and other debris at the opposing team's band members. Class acts.
4. Country music - The sound of our "leader" trying to pronounce the name of a foreign country couldn't disturb me more. It's off-key, flat, disjointed and very rarely makes sense. *Qualifier* I'm only talking about current country, Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn still rock.
5. Pop-tartletts - People, quit paying attention to these vapid, spoiled brats and they may just go away or waste their fortunes trying to gain your attention back.
Bless me for I have sneezed
I told Pants I was bored, so he told me to post. I'm talking to myself here anyways, so what the heck, I'll talk about sneezing.
Why does everyone feel the need to acknowledge a sneeze? A co-worker sneezed about five minutes ago and I almost told her "Bless you," but stopped myself. A guy next to her had already said "gazoontite," so I felt she was covered.
It's almost like some kind of insurance policy, but with guilt involved. If you don't say something, will the person that did it be embarrassed or upset that you didn't acknowledge it? Or if you do, will they be offended at you using a religious reference?
I've read that "Bless you" started in the Dark Ages, when it was thought that a sneeze was evil spirits leaving your head through your nose (or entering it, I can't remember). If someone "blessed" you after/while you sneezed, you were somehow, despite the lack of religious qualifications of the person doing the blessing, safe from said evil spirits.
I often say "Bless you" as an automatic response, but, when I can help it, I like to withhold and see how people respond.
I know when I sneeze, I'm hoping it's the evil spirits of allergies leaving me, but they never seem to really go away, despite numerous blessings from others.
Why does everyone feel the need to acknowledge a sneeze? A co-worker sneezed about five minutes ago and I almost told her "Bless you," but stopped myself. A guy next to her had already said "gazoontite," so I felt she was covered.
It's almost like some kind of insurance policy, but with guilt involved. If you don't say something, will the person that did it be embarrassed or upset that you didn't acknowledge it? Or if you do, will they be offended at you using a religious reference?
I've read that "Bless you" started in the Dark Ages, when it was thought that a sneeze was evil spirits leaving your head through your nose (or entering it, I can't remember). If someone "blessed" you after/while you sneezed, you were somehow, despite the lack of religious qualifications of the person doing the blessing, safe from said evil spirits.
I often say "Bless you" as an automatic response, but, when I can help it, I like to withhold and see how people respond.
I know when I sneeze, I'm hoping it's the evil spirits of allergies leaving me, but they never seem to really go away, despite numerous blessings from others.
Monday, June 20, 2005
My time is the right time
I like to think of my TV time as valuable real estate. I figure that there are all of those advertising people out there being paid way more than I can comprehend, I might as well make them work for it. I consider it a challenge that I lay down every time I pick up the remote. Entertain me.
So, with the attention span of a hummingbird, I switch programs a lot to find something I like. Once I find something, I'll watch it in its entirety. But if I can't find anything on our 900 channels, I punish the TV stations by turning the TV off and finding a project that needs to be done around the house, or I go check the AP wire, cause I'm a bit of a news junkie. With that many channels to choose from and my never-ending penchant for projects, there's always something to do so I don't like to waste time on a program that sucks, like, say, Home Movies and all episodes of Family Guy that aren't centered around Stewie or Bryan.
That being said, I do watch what others would consider very bad television sometimes. Like MTV, a lot. There, now that that's out of the way, we can move on to what I really want to talk about. Cribs. I found myself watching an hour of this today. After watching Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares (one of my favorite ways to laugh at others who can't cook and get my fill of Brit TV) and because I knew that TRL (one of the shows I detest the most) wasn't on, I thought I'd see what MTV was offering.
Cribs can really run the gamut. Sometimes when I watch it, I feel disgusted at the ways in which rich people waste money. Sometimes, I pick up some really good decorating ideas and sometimes I just watch to see what their kitchens look like. But sometimes it really makes me pity these "stars" and "celebrities." Two things will bring out the pity in me for these people. One, some of them are so detached from the real world and treat others so badly and have so much useless crap that I feel they are just a waste of human. Then again, they are entirely happy to be such retards that I suppose that until they harm someone else and can be caught, they could probably be left alone.
Reason number two is that some of these people think they really are famous when, in reality, Madonna turned Cribs down at the last minute and they needed someone to fill the spot and you'd been emailing them for months trying to get the camera crews to look at your super hot 32-inch TV in your living room.
Seeing these people on TV is just embarrassing. Not the funny, Office-esque way, just embarrassing.
You could tell the girl on today's episode thought she was the shiz-nit. She welcomed the cameras into her apartment ... not mansion, not house, not cool loft, her apartment that looked not unlike one I had in college. Now, had she been trying to be frugal, that's something I could really respect, like the episode on Sean William Scott. He shared an apartment with a friend and didn't want to blow all of his money on things, he was saving. I don't know if that's still his situation, but I applauded his lip service for the TV.
This girl, however, thought she was being so unbelievably cool. We enter her living room, which is smaller than mine and more sparsely decorated. She did have a pair of boxing gloves to prove how "tuff" she was, though. And some beta fish under her coffee table. Moving on to the kitchen, you see her large box of dum-dums. She told the camera she had to have those...insert your own joke here. In the fridge, tons of sugary drinks, including shelves full of something called Crunk. Being a "cracka," I'd never drank the stuff, but she must have stock in it. She explained all of this as proof that she was ghetto.
Into the bedroom, a small bedroom, she shows her bed, dresser and closet that's smaller than mine. Nothing too interesting. But the highlight of the room was the small fridge with the Crunk logo all over it, filled with the drink. I wonder how much they paid her? She also said she slept on top of her covers and sheets, 'cause she's ghetto like that.
At this point, I was starting to avert my eyes.
Having failed to impress the cameras or at home audiences, she decides to take us down the road to her apartment's communal garage. We see that she's bought a purple Bratz bike, because someone told her she looks like one of the dolls. She also had a pretty sweet looking motorcycle, which she fessed up to not knowing how to ride. Then there was the required Mercedes and Escalade. Nothing I haven't seen lawyers drive. Nothing special, no crazy TV or computer screens anywhere. Snorrrreeeee.
Then she shows us where she takes her dogs to go to the bathroom. Seriously? Even I wouldn't do that and anyone who knows me knows how crazy I am about my babies. If you're going to be on TV showing off how "cool" you are or you are pretending to be, don't show your dogs' feces. Please.
I'm no expert, but I do totally read stuff and after watching an entire half hour of her house and having her talk, I still don't know who this girl was supposed to be or what she's done.
The next part of the show featured the head hancho of Rocafella records. Now here's a segment I can respect. This guy knew how to play to the cameras. He had several well-known people call his phone and leave funny messages, so he could play them back for MTV and people would know that he knows and hangs with these people. This makes sense. He's got a kitchen full of chefs and a pool full of 15-year-olds in bikinis. Did I mention that his pad was in England? This guy knew how Cribs worked.
So, if you're not famous, don't go on Cribs. Going on Cribs won't make you famous, so do something first and if you have a sucky place or a place that's smaller than one that I, someone making a fraction of what you spend at Louis Vuitton, can afford, don't waste our valuable TV time!
So, with the attention span of a hummingbird, I switch programs a lot to find something I like. Once I find something, I'll watch it in its entirety. But if I can't find anything on our 900 channels, I punish the TV stations by turning the TV off and finding a project that needs to be done around the house, or I go check the AP wire, cause I'm a bit of a news junkie. With that many channels to choose from and my never-ending penchant for projects, there's always something to do so I don't like to waste time on a program that sucks, like, say, Home Movies and all episodes of Family Guy that aren't centered around Stewie or Bryan.
That being said, I do watch what others would consider very bad television sometimes. Like MTV, a lot. There, now that that's out of the way, we can move on to what I really want to talk about. Cribs. I found myself watching an hour of this today. After watching Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares (one of my favorite ways to laugh at others who can't cook and get my fill of Brit TV) and because I knew that TRL (one of the shows I detest the most) wasn't on, I thought I'd see what MTV was offering.
Cribs can really run the gamut. Sometimes when I watch it, I feel disgusted at the ways in which rich people waste money. Sometimes, I pick up some really good decorating ideas and sometimes I just watch to see what their kitchens look like. But sometimes it really makes me pity these "stars" and "celebrities." Two things will bring out the pity in me for these people. One, some of them are so detached from the real world and treat others so badly and have so much useless crap that I feel they are just a waste of human. Then again, they are entirely happy to be such retards that I suppose that until they harm someone else and can be caught, they could probably be left alone.
Reason number two is that some of these people think they really are famous when, in reality, Madonna turned Cribs down at the last minute and they needed someone to fill the spot and you'd been emailing them for months trying to get the camera crews to look at your super hot 32-inch TV in your living room.
Seeing these people on TV is just embarrassing. Not the funny, Office-esque way, just embarrassing.
You could tell the girl on today's episode thought she was the shiz-nit. She welcomed the cameras into her apartment ... not mansion, not house, not cool loft, her apartment that looked not unlike one I had in college. Now, had she been trying to be frugal, that's something I could really respect, like the episode on Sean William Scott. He shared an apartment with a friend and didn't want to blow all of his money on things, he was saving. I don't know if that's still his situation, but I applauded his lip service for the TV.
This girl, however, thought she was being so unbelievably cool. We enter her living room, which is smaller than mine and more sparsely decorated. She did have a pair of boxing gloves to prove how "tuff" she was, though. And some beta fish under her coffee table. Moving on to the kitchen, you see her large box of dum-dums. She told the camera she had to have those...insert your own joke here. In the fridge, tons of sugary drinks, including shelves full of something called Crunk. Being a "cracka," I'd never drank the stuff, but she must have stock in it. She explained all of this as proof that she was ghetto.
Into the bedroom, a small bedroom, she shows her bed, dresser and closet that's smaller than mine. Nothing too interesting. But the highlight of the room was the small fridge with the Crunk logo all over it, filled with the drink. I wonder how much they paid her? She also said she slept on top of her covers and sheets, 'cause she's ghetto like that.
At this point, I was starting to avert my eyes.
Having failed to impress the cameras or at home audiences, she decides to take us down the road to her apartment's communal garage. We see that she's bought a purple Bratz bike, because someone told her she looks like one of the dolls. She also had a pretty sweet looking motorcycle, which she fessed up to not knowing how to ride. Then there was the required Mercedes and Escalade. Nothing I haven't seen lawyers drive. Nothing special, no crazy TV or computer screens anywhere. Snorrrreeeee.
Then she shows us where she takes her dogs to go to the bathroom. Seriously? Even I wouldn't do that and anyone who knows me knows how crazy I am about my babies. If you're going to be on TV showing off how "cool" you are or you are pretending to be, don't show your dogs' feces. Please.
I'm no expert, but I do totally read stuff and after watching an entire half hour of her house and having her talk, I still don't know who this girl was supposed to be or what she's done.
The next part of the show featured the head hancho of Rocafella records. Now here's a segment I can respect. This guy knew how to play to the cameras. He had several well-known people call his phone and leave funny messages, so he could play them back for MTV and people would know that he knows and hangs with these people. This makes sense. He's got a kitchen full of chefs and a pool full of 15-year-olds in bikinis. Did I mention that his pad was in England? This guy knew how Cribs worked.
So, if you're not famous, don't go on Cribs. Going on Cribs won't make you famous, so do something first and if you have a sucky place or a place that's smaller than one that I, someone making a fraction of what you spend at Louis Vuitton, can afford, don't waste our valuable TV time!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Damn music
Because my husband said so, and he's totally buying me a new purse.
Total volume of music files on my computer -- Dunno, but I saw that I've almost filled my iPod up the other day, that was a scary thought.
The last CD I bought was -- Devils in the Dust, Bruce Springsteen, although, read below, it sucked.
Song playing right now -- Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani, the "good" version.
Eight ( I had to add some) songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me -- For some reason, my fairly new iPod doesn't have a top played list, so I just went to my favorite stuff playlist for goodies.
1. Playing with Pink Noise - Kaki King. Good stuff, acoustic guitar rocking out in ways I've never dreamed of, until now.
2. Interstate Love Song - The Stone Temple Pilots. Possibly one of my all-time favorite songs ever. Takes me back to middle school/early high school.
3. Take Your Mamma - The Scissor Sisters. Because it's awesome, and they do a wicked cover of Pink Floyd.
4. Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes. The song that made me fall in love with the White Stripes.
5. Rich - The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs. I'm also a huge fan of "Maps" and Karen O in general.
6. Little Wing - Stevie Ray Vaughan. This song relaxes me like nothing else and is an instant upper. Makes me feel slinky. Yeah, I said it, slinky.
7. Fever - Michael Buble. It's not Sinatra, but it's close.
8. Got your Money - Ol Dirty Bastard. Yes, I know I'm the whitest thing next to bread, but I love this song, makes me feel like I'm back in that London bar dancing on the table.
Five people to whom I am passing the baton --
I don't know anyone, besides my husband and, I guess, myself, that would actually do this, so...no five people, not even one, so there!
Total volume of music files on my computer -- Dunno, but I saw that I've almost filled my iPod up the other day, that was a scary thought.
The last CD I bought was -- Devils in the Dust, Bruce Springsteen, although, read below, it sucked.
Song playing right now -- Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani, the "good" version.
Eight ( I had to add some) songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me -- For some reason, my fairly new iPod doesn't have a top played list, so I just went to my favorite stuff playlist for goodies.
1. Playing with Pink Noise - Kaki King. Good stuff, acoustic guitar rocking out in ways I've never dreamed of, until now.
2. Interstate Love Song - The Stone Temple Pilots. Possibly one of my all-time favorite songs ever. Takes me back to middle school/early high school.
3. Take Your Mamma - The Scissor Sisters. Because it's awesome, and they do a wicked cover of Pink Floyd.
4. Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes. The song that made me fall in love with the White Stripes.
5. Rich - The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs. I'm also a huge fan of "Maps" and Karen O in general.
6. Little Wing - Stevie Ray Vaughan. This song relaxes me like nothing else and is an instant upper. Makes me feel slinky. Yeah, I said it, slinky.
7. Fever - Michael Buble. It's not Sinatra, but it's close.
8. Got your Money - Ol Dirty Bastard. Yes, I know I'm the whitest thing next to bread, but I love this song, makes me feel like I'm back in that London bar dancing on the table.
Five people to whom I am passing the baton --
I don't know anyone, besides my husband and, I guess, myself, that would actually do this, so...no five people, not even one, so there!
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
The Devil in the Disc
Being a big fan of the four or five music channels we have on Awesomo-5001, I was watching when they previewed the latest from Springsteen, "Devils & Dust," and was excited to get the album when it went on sale. Not download it for free, illegally, which I totally could have done, but buy it.
So when I spotted it at Sam's last night for cheap, I pounced. When we got home, I was delighted to discover a new opening mechanism for the CD case. No more wondering if you had the right side up, you just push a button on this little smartie to get to your CD.
On the CD we bought, was a flip side that was a DVD. We didn't pay much extra for this and it was the only version available at the store, so we didn't think much of it. Little did we know that when we put it in our IMac, it would only be recognized as a DVD. This means we couldn't put it on ITunes and download the songs to our Ipods. Way to go, because we paid a tiny bit more and got the "fancy" version, it's so copy-protected that we can't even download them to our own computer. Really makes me rethink that whole illegally downloading the CD thing. I looked online and I'm evidently not the only one experiencing this problem. Had we bought the UK version we wouldn't have had this problem.
I was so mad. Luckily, as much as I like this CD, it's not like it's the next Harry Potter book or anything. I mean, I want to ask Springsteen what was up with "Reno?" What was the point? Did he just want to write about anal sex?
I will probably live without the album on my IPod, or just download it.
Also, I love scones.
So when I spotted it at Sam's last night for cheap, I pounced. When we got home, I was delighted to discover a new opening mechanism for the CD case. No more wondering if you had the right side up, you just push a button on this little smartie to get to your CD.
On the CD we bought, was a flip side that was a DVD. We didn't pay much extra for this and it was the only version available at the store, so we didn't think much of it. Little did we know that when we put it in our IMac, it would only be recognized as a DVD. This means we couldn't put it on ITunes and download the songs to our Ipods. Way to go, because we paid a tiny bit more and got the "fancy" version, it's so copy-protected that we can't even download them to our own computer. Really makes me rethink that whole illegally downloading the CD thing. I looked online and I'm evidently not the only one experiencing this problem. Had we bought the UK version we wouldn't have had this problem.
I was so mad. Luckily, as much as I like this CD, it's not like it's the next Harry Potter book or anything. I mean, I want to ask Springsteen what was up with "Reno?" What was the point? Did he just want to write about anal sex?
I will probably live without the album on my IPod, or just download it.
Also, I love scones.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Got 99 problems but a bridge ain't one
So I've been seeing my dentist. Not in the racy, extramarital kind of way, but the paying a lot of money to meet my deductible and getting talked into lots of dental work that I may or may not need kind of way.
I'll admit, genetics did not grace me with the best of teeth. In fact, I'm missing a permanent tooth. It's never been there, so I've never missed it. It's not a big deal, it doesn't hurt and it's in the back, you can't really see it unless I crack my mouth open very wide. And the only time I ever think about missing it is when a dentist brings it up. They all want me to get an implant. Well, tough luck.
I had braces forever, and when I got them off, the plan was to get an implant. This was in high school. They took me to two surgeons and they both said my jaw bone was too narrow and they'd have to do an extra surgery to get bone from my chin and implant it, let it grow, then they could put the metal stud in my jaw, then the tooth. Three procedures in all.
The clincher for me was when they said the missing tooth was right above a nerve that, if not done absolutely perfect, the surgery could very well tweak and paralyze half of my face. Thanks, but no thanks. I can do without.
The next step was a bridge. To do this, they would need to grind down the healthy teeth on either side of my missing tooth and put caps on them with the fake tooth between 'em. Not being one to mess with perfectly healthy teeth, I declined this dance as well.
On a recent trip to my dentist for a needed crown, I was again approached about an implant. After explaining why I didn't have/want one, he didn't seem to believe me. On the second visit, I think he saw my resolve and felt the jaw bone himself and decreed that the other surgeons were probably right. So on to the bridge attack, again.
This time, he almost had me convinced. "Insurance will help pay for it, it will be the thing to do, I'd do it if it were me..." and so on. Then I got the estimate from my insurance, it would cost me over $800 for said bridge. For that much, I'd rather make a nice down payment on new leather couches, or pay off our supercool TV that we had to have. So no, I won't be getting a bridge, I knew you all would be concerned, so I thought I'd let you know.
I'll admit, genetics did not grace me with the best of teeth. In fact, I'm missing a permanent tooth. It's never been there, so I've never missed it. It's not a big deal, it doesn't hurt and it's in the back, you can't really see it unless I crack my mouth open very wide. And the only time I ever think about missing it is when a dentist brings it up. They all want me to get an implant. Well, tough luck.
I had braces forever, and when I got them off, the plan was to get an implant. This was in high school. They took me to two surgeons and they both said my jaw bone was too narrow and they'd have to do an extra surgery to get bone from my chin and implant it, let it grow, then they could put the metal stud in my jaw, then the tooth. Three procedures in all.
The clincher for me was when they said the missing tooth was right above a nerve that, if not done absolutely perfect, the surgery could very well tweak and paralyze half of my face. Thanks, but no thanks. I can do without.
The next step was a bridge. To do this, they would need to grind down the healthy teeth on either side of my missing tooth and put caps on them with the fake tooth between 'em. Not being one to mess with perfectly healthy teeth, I declined this dance as well.
On a recent trip to my dentist for a needed crown, I was again approached about an implant. After explaining why I didn't have/want one, he didn't seem to believe me. On the second visit, I think he saw my resolve and felt the jaw bone himself and decreed that the other surgeons were probably right. So on to the bridge attack, again.
This time, he almost had me convinced. "Insurance will help pay for it, it will be the thing to do, I'd do it if it were me..." and so on. Then I got the estimate from my insurance, it would cost me over $800 for said bridge. For that much, I'd rather make a nice down payment on new leather couches, or pay off our supercool TV that we had to have. So no, I won't be getting a bridge, I knew you all would be concerned, so I thought I'd let you know.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
I know, I know, I'm getting tired of seeing these, too...but...
You Are a Boston Terrier Puppy |
 Aggressive, wild, and rambunctious. Deep down, you're just a cuddle monster. |
Monday, April 25, 2005
Stillwater Hustle
Lesson learned: When a friend asks you to help out at her wedding, make sure she knows what the Hell she's talking about.
So Pants and I went to Stillwater Saturday for a friend's wedding. She had emailed a few weeks before and asked if I could help some. When I told her I'd have to be working the night before and would only be able to do things a few hours before the wedding she assured me it'd be OK and that I'd just have to stand outside and get the wedding party lined up before they entered the chapel. Liar.
I got there two hours before the wedding started, expecting to get a typed up program and for things to be running as smoothly as things do for weddings. I'm not sure how everyone else's weddings were planned, but for ours, everyone who was doing ANYTHING for us, knew months in advance and had a printed out list of when and where to be. We thought of pretty much everything. The only thing I can think of that didn't go according to plan or that we had forgotten was the bridesmaids shawls. Not a biggie because they were gorgeous without them. On time, written programs, everyone knowing what they're supposed to do way in advance. That's how I roll.
Anyway, back at the awkward wedding, not having any instructions, I followed the bride into the girls' dressing room to see if I could help anyone. Having asked many times before what I would be doing and having been told very vague things, I brought a bag of hair pins, nail polish, clips, baby powder, safety pins, nail file and clippers, contact solution and cases...you get the point. I was a Camp Fire Girl, what can I say.
I helped the bridesmaids fix their hair when it started to fall down and ended up helping my friend into her gown. Her mother was no where to be found until AFTER all of the work had been done. Interesting. I'm sure most gals think this, but her gown was so ugly. It had really pretty beads, but they were everywhere. It was sleeveless and had a ball gown skirt with no train and this bunch of fabric that came out from the waistline. To make the fit of the dress worse, she kept slumping her shoulders over. I kept wanting to tell her to straighten up and she'd look about ten times better, but, not my wedding, so I kept my mouth shut.
It was then that I spied a printed itinerary. She hadn't made me a copy, but the bridesmaids got one. I stole it and tried to look nonchalant. In the end, I was very happy that I found it, because I wouldn't have known when to do what or who was doing what. She hadn't printed any formal programs for the guests, so no one quite knew what was what or where things were.
Meanwhile, guests were arriving and milling around the outside of the chapel area. I caught the eye of a girl I'd gone to elementary, middle and high schools, and college. Despite all that, we aren't really that close. She asked what I'd been up to and I told her I'd gotten married last year and we'd bought a house. She was quick to ask where and then tell me that she lived in a "better" part of the city. She didn't exactly say it that way, but that's how it came across. She went on to say that her husband was getting his PhD. and knew the groom. I told her, with what little self-importance I could muster about my job, that I was supposed to be getting everyone in line for their entrance to the chapel and really had to get going.
I was embarrassed to say that I didn't remember what the bride's mom looked like. I was wondering how I was going to get these people in order if I didn't know who was who but was saved when the photographer went around and asked the questions for me.
While we were waiting, the bride told me that I'd have to get some of the trays of food they'd ordered out of a fridge across the hall from the reception hall. Oh, and the trays of chocolate-covered strawberries, oh, and the ice. Okayyyyy, so I'd be leaving the service a bit early.
While everyone was getting their corsages and boquets, the bride told the florist I got a corsage as well. I was flattered that she'd thought of me until she added that the only reason I got one was that another server couldn't make it. Gee, really? Thanks!
The best part about the entire wedding was watching the bride and her mom talk with her grandma. All three had tears in their eyes and were slightly shaking. None of them talked for a few minutes, just looked at each other. It made me miss my grandmas so much it hurt. None of my grandparents were alive for my wedding. None of them ever met my husband, but I know that they were with me that day and have been since.
Back to being catty: So I got the family in order, and despite being reminded by me, one of the ushers forgot to light the bride's unity candle and had to go back and do it. Everyone else got in OK and I, almost tripping over the photographer's tripod, snuck in at the last minute to get a seat next to Pants. I showed him on my stolen itinerary when we'd have to escape to start getting the trays of ice, food, strawberries etc.
A minister got up to talk and issued many a religious platitude, among with was "Let your yes be yes, and your no be no." Yeah.....how about may your marriage be blessed and you always respect and love each other? That'd work.
So we make our escape and bring the food to the reception hall. By this time, Pants is getting a bit steamed about having to work on his day off and wear a tie to do it. We bring in the food and are surprised to see four or five older ladies just sitting around the hall doing nothing. Why weren't they assigned to do this if they weren't even going to be in the ceremony??? We set everything out in a pretty manner. (If we're going to do something, it's going to look great!) We set out the strawberries and poured the tea and sat down. A lady came over to tell us we weren't done yet.
So we went back to the table and tried to field questions from guests as they trickled in. No, we didn't know where more cups were, no, we didn't have anything other than tea to serve, I don't care who's diabetic. Seriously, this thing wasn't planned at all. They only had tea to serve and nothing to put ice in, so we had to run back and forth refilling pitchers. People kept asking for water so I stole a church kitchen pitcher and filled it full of tap water. We ran out of cups, there were no trashcans out for people to put their stuff in when they were done, it was just weird and totally not planned right at all. By this time, Pants was really mad. I thought he was going to kill my friend and her parents.
Finally, we went through the receiving line ourselves and I told them we had to get on the road. We made our escape, went to Joe's where we saw other people from the wedding, and then took a driving tour of our old haunts around campus. It was a pretty good day after we got out of that wedding.
We spent most of the time on the way home coming up with potential names for our someday children. We decided on a few that I'll list....
Murdoc (matt)
Clark (kent)
Bruce (wayne)
Spider (jerusalem)
Black Stormy
Elvira Eloise
...you get the picture, mainly comic book names, and some we just thought were funny. We've decided to use these, when the time comes, to horrify and put off our parents. When we really choose a name, no one will know until after said kid is born, and even then, I've told Pants it's the mom that gets the final say.
Coming soon: My pov on the movie "Kung Fu Hustle"
So Pants and I went to Stillwater Saturday for a friend's wedding. She had emailed a few weeks before and asked if I could help some. When I told her I'd have to be working the night before and would only be able to do things a few hours before the wedding she assured me it'd be OK and that I'd just have to stand outside and get the wedding party lined up before they entered the chapel. Liar.
I got there two hours before the wedding started, expecting to get a typed up program and for things to be running as smoothly as things do for weddings. I'm not sure how everyone else's weddings were planned, but for ours, everyone who was doing ANYTHING for us, knew months in advance and had a printed out list of when and where to be. We thought of pretty much everything. The only thing I can think of that didn't go according to plan or that we had forgotten was the bridesmaids shawls. Not a biggie because they were gorgeous without them. On time, written programs, everyone knowing what they're supposed to do way in advance. That's how I roll.
Anyway, back at the awkward wedding, not having any instructions, I followed the bride into the girls' dressing room to see if I could help anyone. Having asked many times before what I would be doing and having been told very vague things, I brought a bag of hair pins, nail polish, clips, baby powder, safety pins, nail file and clippers, contact solution and cases...you get the point. I was a Camp Fire Girl, what can I say.
I helped the bridesmaids fix their hair when it started to fall down and ended up helping my friend into her gown. Her mother was no where to be found until AFTER all of the work had been done. Interesting. I'm sure most gals think this, but her gown was so ugly. It had really pretty beads, but they were everywhere. It was sleeveless and had a ball gown skirt with no train and this bunch of fabric that came out from the waistline. To make the fit of the dress worse, she kept slumping her shoulders over. I kept wanting to tell her to straighten up and she'd look about ten times better, but, not my wedding, so I kept my mouth shut.
It was then that I spied a printed itinerary. She hadn't made me a copy, but the bridesmaids got one. I stole it and tried to look nonchalant. In the end, I was very happy that I found it, because I wouldn't have known when to do what or who was doing what. She hadn't printed any formal programs for the guests, so no one quite knew what was what or where things were.
Meanwhile, guests were arriving and milling around the outside of the chapel area. I caught the eye of a girl I'd gone to elementary, middle and high schools, and college. Despite all that, we aren't really that close. She asked what I'd been up to and I told her I'd gotten married last year and we'd bought a house. She was quick to ask where and then tell me that she lived in a "better" part of the city. She didn't exactly say it that way, but that's how it came across. She went on to say that her husband was getting his PhD. and knew the groom. I told her, with what little self-importance I could muster about my job, that I was supposed to be getting everyone in line for their entrance to the chapel and really had to get going.
I was embarrassed to say that I didn't remember what the bride's mom looked like. I was wondering how I was going to get these people in order if I didn't know who was who but was saved when the photographer went around and asked the questions for me.
While we were waiting, the bride told me that I'd have to get some of the trays of food they'd ordered out of a fridge across the hall from the reception hall. Oh, and the trays of chocolate-covered strawberries, oh, and the ice. Okayyyyy, so I'd be leaving the service a bit early.
While everyone was getting their corsages and boquets, the bride told the florist I got a corsage as well. I was flattered that she'd thought of me until she added that the only reason I got one was that another server couldn't make it. Gee, really? Thanks!
The best part about the entire wedding was watching the bride and her mom talk with her grandma. All three had tears in their eyes and were slightly shaking. None of them talked for a few minutes, just looked at each other. It made me miss my grandmas so much it hurt. None of my grandparents were alive for my wedding. None of them ever met my husband, but I know that they were with me that day and have been since.
Back to being catty: So I got the family in order, and despite being reminded by me, one of the ushers forgot to light the bride's unity candle and had to go back and do it. Everyone else got in OK and I, almost tripping over the photographer's tripod, snuck in at the last minute to get a seat next to Pants. I showed him on my stolen itinerary when we'd have to escape to start getting the trays of ice, food, strawberries etc.
A minister got up to talk and issued many a religious platitude, among with was "Let your yes be yes, and your no be no." Yeah.....how about may your marriage be blessed and you always respect and love each other? That'd work.
So we make our escape and bring the food to the reception hall. By this time, Pants is getting a bit steamed about having to work on his day off and wear a tie to do it. We bring in the food and are surprised to see four or five older ladies just sitting around the hall doing nothing. Why weren't they assigned to do this if they weren't even going to be in the ceremony??? We set everything out in a pretty manner. (If we're going to do something, it's going to look great!) We set out the strawberries and poured the tea and sat down. A lady came over to tell us we weren't done yet.
So we went back to the table and tried to field questions from guests as they trickled in. No, we didn't know where more cups were, no, we didn't have anything other than tea to serve, I don't care who's diabetic. Seriously, this thing wasn't planned at all. They only had tea to serve and nothing to put ice in, so we had to run back and forth refilling pitchers. People kept asking for water so I stole a church kitchen pitcher and filled it full of tap water. We ran out of cups, there were no trashcans out for people to put their stuff in when they were done, it was just weird and totally not planned right at all. By this time, Pants was really mad. I thought he was going to kill my friend and her parents.
Finally, we went through the receiving line ourselves and I told them we had to get on the road. We made our escape, went to Joe's where we saw other people from the wedding, and then took a driving tour of our old haunts around campus. It was a pretty good day after we got out of that wedding.
We spent most of the time on the way home coming up with potential names for our someday children. We decided on a few that I'll list....
Murdoc (matt)
Clark (kent)
Bruce (wayne)
Spider (jerusalem)
Black Stormy
Elvira Eloise
...you get the picture, mainly comic book names, and some we just thought were funny. We've decided to use these, when the time comes, to horrify and put off our parents. When we really choose a name, no one will know until after said kid is born, and even then, I've told Pants it's the mom that gets the final say.
Coming soon: My pov on the movie "Kung Fu Hustle"
Friday, April 22, 2005
My husband is the funniest man ever, except when he's not, which isn't often.
We've been married for a year and two months. Despite only seeing each other for a couple of hours a few times a week, the laughter has yet to cease and I feverently hope it will always be so.
Dog hiker
Our Boston terror doesn't like her leash.
She's been on it probably seven or eight times. This is my fault. Like a little kid, I begged and pleaded to get another dog, swearing that I'd take care of it and feed it and train it and it'd be the bestest dog ever. Well, we got her and so far I've only taught her to sit and jump in my arms.
I have not enrolled her in obedience classes as I should have, I have not been working with her to get her used to a leash or to lay down, as I totally should have. She's just so cute! I just want to play with her, but I'm going to have to train myself to be a better owner. As with most dogs, it's not her fault she's untrained, it's mine.
However, I digress. My point was that she hates the leash and makes me laugh a lot. When she and my husband are combined, they provide a potent combination of hilarity that is hard to resist.
Our old dog, a pointer mix, LOVES to walk, could care less about being on a leash, as long as it means she will end up outside or meeting new people. Because she loves to walk (well she loves to run, I walk at best) and I feel guilty for spending so much time with the puppy, I try to take her for walks, so we can spend some time together and I can work off some pounds.
On a rare, shared night off, Pants and I took both dogs for a walk. I had tried this the day before with a friend, she holding the pointer mix, and me "walking" the Boston. Not so much. She (the Boston) freaked out and I ended up carrying her the entire way. Like carrying a sack of flour. That and she squirmed in my arms until she could see the pointer at all times, while she was being carried. She's not spoiled...really.
So when Pants decided to bring her the next day, I was sceptical, but we grabbed the leashes and ventured out anyway. I had the pointer, lucky me! Pants was fast realizing I wasn't kidding about our BT freaking out. Once she realized she wouldn't be carried, she started jumping as high as she could and throwing herself in different directions, any direction but forward. We stopped, made sure she wasn't really hurt and continued. When she'd take a few good steps, we'd offer her a biscuit, which she pouted at and rejected.
With no food to help us, we tried using the older dog as bait. Much like a little sibling of any species, the BT LOVES her older sister and tries to emulate whatever she does. I tried running ahead of Pants and the BT, letting her see that some dogs really DO enjoy being outside and minding their owners.
When that didn't work, we tried switching places. This only caused her to run around Pants in circles. Once she was behind him, she would try running up his backside. Seriously. She would hop up and make it to his hips before aimming at his butt and lower back. He'd usually turn around at this point and she'd fall. The whole time she's playing Tensing Norgay, she's making this high-pitched growl ... I've never seen her that angry! I laughed so hard I cried.
Things that go bump in the night
I know he's already talked on this subject, but I find it pretty funny so I'll rehash it. Because of our opposite schedules, I often go to bed four or five hours after Pants. This means he's almost REMing or is already there. Usually, but not always, he's talking in his sleep.
Once, he told me that no one would ever really love me. I knew he wasn't really talking to me, but it was pretty funny. Last week, I came to bed and he mumbled something and I asked him what he was talking about. He told me, "Complete cirlces." And then went on to explain, in a very lucid manner, how this was a form of the star of David and something something. I really thought he had woke himself up, as he often does when he is talking. The next morning, he let it be known that he was asleep at the time and did know what he was talking about but it was complicated and he wasn't going to explain it.
I have my sleeping quarks, I've been known to hog the bed, covers, sheets, pillows etc. Occaisionally I'll mumble some. But I've never played video games.
That's right. He got Donkey Konga and has become a master at it in his waking and sleeping hours. I came to bed one night and all was quiet for a few minutes then I heard a tapping. He was patting his hand on his thigh in a rhythm. When asked what he was doing, he told me "Konga....Donkey Konga." After a little more of this he quit. The entire time I was laughing so hard, but in order not to really wake him, I had to stiffle it and ended up shaking the bed violently with my laughter.
I relate all of this because my husband makes me laugh. Sometimes he wakes up while he's doing something funny and continues so that I will laugh harder. Sometimes it's the things he says, sometimes, it's just spending time with him that makes me so happy that I laugh with joy. I highly recommend being married to the one that makes you laugh and love the best.
Dog hiker
Our Boston terror doesn't like her leash.
She's been on it probably seven or eight times. This is my fault. Like a little kid, I begged and pleaded to get another dog, swearing that I'd take care of it and feed it and train it and it'd be the bestest dog ever. Well, we got her and so far I've only taught her to sit and jump in my arms.
I have not enrolled her in obedience classes as I should have, I have not been working with her to get her used to a leash or to lay down, as I totally should have. She's just so cute! I just want to play with her, but I'm going to have to train myself to be a better owner. As with most dogs, it's not her fault she's untrained, it's mine.
However, I digress. My point was that she hates the leash and makes me laugh a lot. When she and my husband are combined, they provide a potent combination of hilarity that is hard to resist.
Our old dog, a pointer mix, LOVES to walk, could care less about being on a leash, as long as it means she will end up outside or meeting new people. Because she loves to walk (well she loves to run, I walk at best) and I feel guilty for spending so much time with the puppy, I try to take her for walks, so we can spend some time together and I can work off some pounds.
On a rare, shared night off, Pants and I took both dogs for a walk. I had tried this the day before with a friend, she holding the pointer mix, and me "walking" the Boston. Not so much. She (the Boston) freaked out and I ended up carrying her the entire way. Like carrying a sack of flour. That and she squirmed in my arms until she could see the pointer at all times, while she was being carried. She's not spoiled...really.
So when Pants decided to bring her the next day, I was sceptical, but we grabbed the leashes and ventured out anyway. I had the pointer, lucky me! Pants was fast realizing I wasn't kidding about our BT freaking out. Once she realized she wouldn't be carried, she started jumping as high as she could and throwing herself in different directions, any direction but forward. We stopped, made sure she wasn't really hurt and continued. When she'd take a few good steps, we'd offer her a biscuit, which she pouted at and rejected.
With no food to help us, we tried using the older dog as bait. Much like a little sibling of any species, the BT LOVES her older sister and tries to emulate whatever she does. I tried running ahead of Pants and the BT, letting her see that some dogs really DO enjoy being outside and minding their owners.
When that didn't work, we tried switching places. This only caused her to run around Pants in circles. Once she was behind him, she would try running up his backside. Seriously. She would hop up and make it to his hips before aimming at his butt and lower back. He'd usually turn around at this point and she'd fall. The whole time she's playing Tensing Norgay, she's making this high-pitched growl ... I've never seen her that angry! I laughed so hard I cried.
Things that go bump in the night
I know he's already talked on this subject, but I find it pretty funny so I'll rehash it. Because of our opposite schedules, I often go to bed four or five hours after Pants. This means he's almost REMing or is already there. Usually, but not always, he's talking in his sleep.
Once, he told me that no one would ever really love me. I knew he wasn't really talking to me, but it was pretty funny. Last week, I came to bed and he mumbled something and I asked him what he was talking about. He told me, "Complete cirlces." And then went on to explain, in a very lucid manner, how this was a form of the star of David and something something. I really thought he had woke himself up, as he often does when he is talking. The next morning, he let it be known that he was asleep at the time and did know what he was talking about but it was complicated and he wasn't going to explain it.
I have my sleeping quarks, I've been known to hog the bed, covers, sheets, pillows etc. Occaisionally I'll mumble some. But I've never played video games.
That's right. He got Donkey Konga and has become a master at it in his waking and sleeping hours. I came to bed one night and all was quiet for a few minutes then I heard a tapping. He was patting his hand on his thigh in a rhythm. When asked what he was doing, he told me "Konga....Donkey Konga." After a little more of this he quit. The entire time I was laughing so hard, but in order not to really wake him, I had to stiffle it and ended up shaking the bed violently with my laughter.
I relate all of this because my husband makes me laugh. Sometimes he wakes up while he's doing something funny and continues so that I will laugh harder. Sometimes it's the things he says, sometimes, it's just spending time with him that makes me so happy that I laugh with joy. I highly recommend being married to the one that makes you laugh and love the best.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Things that make me feel old
Part Un
A couple of weeks ago, I walked in to Hot Topic in the mall. I knew I was asking for it, but I was ready to shell out more cash on a Napoleon Dynamite shirt than I would for a pair of shoes and wanted to see what styles they had.
After perusing the Tater tees, I checked out their wall of band shirts. I had just spotted a pretty sweet Franz Ferdinand shirt when a clerk came up to me and very politely told me "The wall with the older bands is on that side."
I stared at her pierced face and thought three things simultaneously: Do I really look that old? Excuse me - I happen to own the Franz Ferdinand, Modest Mouse and Yeah Yeah Yeah CDs. But the last, most embarrassing part, was that I was confused as to how she knew that I coveted a Led Zeppelin or Morrison Hotel shirt, both of which were prominently displayed on the second wall.
I just smiled and nodded and feigned interested in some of the newer shirts until a respectable amount of time had passed before I could journey to the "Old People's Wall."
Part Dos
Let me preface this by saying I. DO. NOT. WANT. ONE. (for now.) Everyone has babies but me. Just saying. Even pop-tartlets that should have been fixed at birth before they spread their bare-foot-in-a-parking-lot ways have something going on. It seems like most of our friends are popping these suckers out.
We've decided to wait until we're more financially secure to start reproducing (read: we want to spend more money on ourselves and do cool "adult" stuff before we have babies) We definitely want some, I've even talked Pants into having more than one, just not right now. However pressure is coming in.
In much the same way a couple of years ago when all of our friends were getting married, they have all turned to creating life.
We have dogs. We love our dogs. We feed, bathe, and clothe our dogs. Well, Pants feeds them everyday while I slumber and work. I do that other stuff.
Sometimes I wonder what on Earth we'd do with a kid. The main thing pregnancy has going for it right now, in my eyes, is that I get to get super fat and it's OK. The bad side: I'm super fat and will probably run into stuff. Also, once you have a kid, contrary to popular thought in our state, it's not a thing you can take back or just give away if it's too inconvenient.
Mom calls and says all of her friends have real grandkids pictures to show off, when will she be getting hers? I think she's just praying we have 'em before my younger brother and his trampy gal-pal have their illegitimate first.
Well, bad news for her and all of our friends who want to only talk booties: You'll have to settle for our dogs, for now. We'll have babies when we're good and ready, and in the meantime we'll spoil yours and teach them naughty words.
A couple of weeks ago, I walked in to Hot Topic in the mall. I knew I was asking for it, but I was ready to shell out more cash on a Napoleon Dynamite shirt than I would for a pair of shoes and wanted to see what styles they had.
After perusing the Tater tees, I checked out their wall of band shirts. I had just spotted a pretty sweet Franz Ferdinand shirt when a clerk came up to me and very politely told me "The wall with the older bands is on that side."
I stared at her pierced face and thought three things simultaneously: Do I really look that old? Excuse me - I happen to own the Franz Ferdinand, Modest Mouse and Yeah Yeah Yeah CDs. But the last, most embarrassing part, was that I was confused as to how she knew that I coveted a Led Zeppelin or Morrison Hotel shirt, both of which were prominently displayed on the second wall.
I just smiled and nodded and feigned interested in some of the newer shirts until a respectable amount of time had passed before I could journey to the "Old People's Wall."
Part Dos
Let me preface this by saying I. DO. NOT. WANT. ONE. (for now.) Everyone has babies but me. Just saying. Even pop-tartlets that should have been fixed at birth before they spread their bare-foot-in-a-parking-lot ways have something going on. It seems like most of our friends are popping these suckers out.
We've decided to wait until we're more financially secure to start reproducing (read: we want to spend more money on ourselves and do cool "adult" stuff before we have babies) We definitely want some, I've even talked Pants into having more than one, just not right now. However pressure is coming in.
In much the same way a couple of years ago when all of our friends were getting married, they have all turned to creating life.
We have dogs. We love our dogs. We feed, bathe, and clothe our dogs. Well, Pants feeds them everyday while I slumber and work. I do that other stuff.
Sometimes I wonder what on Earth we'd do with a kid. The main thing pregnancy has going for it right now, in my eyes, is that I get to get super fat and it's OK. The bad side: I'm super fat and will probably run into stuff. Also, once you have a kid, contrary to popular thought in our state, it's not a thing you can take back or just give away if it's too inconvenient.
Mom calls and says all of her friends have real grandkids pictures to show off, when will she be getting hers? I think she's just praying we have 'em before my younger brother and his trampy gal-pal have their illegitimate first.
Well, bad news for her and all of our friends who want to only talk booties: You'll have to settle for our dogs, for now. We'll have babies when we're good and ready, and in the meantime we'll spoil yours and teach them naughty words.
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