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.
Friday, June 24, 2005
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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