Once upon a time there was a lady who pushed her dog in a stroller. This lady lives in my neighborhood. I have seen her pushing this dog in his own personal stroller for a few years now. You might remember reading about this in my book. The dog showed no signs of missing any limbs and I mused (Ranted? Mused!) about how I would need to wear a big orange vest and carry a big orange cone if I was pushing a dog in a stroller to announce to the world that I was, in fact, not a complete IDIOT who pushes a DOG in a STROLLER! It would have to say something like, "WARNING! DOG HAS HEART CONDITION AND MUST BE PUSHED IN THIS RIDICULOUS STROLLER!" Something like that. I might have a flare, too. Yeah. Definitely need flares.
Ok, so let us now fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was waiting in front of my daughter's school to pick her up when I hear my girlfriend frantically calling my name, "SHARI!" ~huffing, puffing~ "SHAAAAARRRIIIIII!!" She's running towards me, her red hair flailing in the wind, and she is panicked! In between trying to catch her breath, I catch these few words..."The dog...has...NO LEGS!!!!" ~sound of screeching tires in my head, followed by complete silence...slight ringing...possibly the sound of my pounding heart in my ears, although it could have been the battle cry of El Diablo telling me that I'm going to hell, and here's my hand basket.~ I am able to mutter a pitiful, whisper of a "whaaaat?" :-/ She repeats, "No legs. Dog has no back legs. Lady takes him to the park and he scoots around on his butt because he has...no...legs." What else could I say? "Punch me in the face. Punch me right now. Punch then pray, for I fear I am on my way south. Pearly gates just slammed shut on the woman who dissed a no-legged dog." Apparently my friend was at the park chatting it up with a few of her mommy friends and talk turned to Dog Pusher Lady and my friend giggled and mentioned my hilarious commentary in the book. To which they responded, "Oh, he doesn't have any back legs." True story.
So as I am wallowing in my self hatred, a ray of light...a beacon in the night, if you will. On the way back to the car I run into another mom friend that I don't know very well, but we pass each other daily and exchange pleasantries. (Sounds so civilized, doesn't it? Yeah, if I wasn't an evil dog dissing bastard.) I explain to her that I am the scum that grows on bottom-dwellers bellies because I wrote about this lady with her dog and now I find out that the dog has no back legs. To which this angel, sent from God, says to me, "Don't worry, you did nothing wrong. I know that dog. He's an asshole." It was at this moment that I knew. She is my people. Anyone who could call a dog an asshole is alright by me! :D Jury is still out on my reservations for hell, but it might be that my transgressions weren't as bad as previously thought. I'm sure PETA would see it otherwise, for I don't think PETA peeps would call a dog an asshole, so let's just keep this between us. They are not my people.
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sticky McStickerson...
I am starting to wonder if I will be sticky for the rest of my life. I never really paid much attention to how often I was sticky before having kids. Probably because I wasn't ever sticky. Or if I was sticky, I would wash my hands and be done with it for another year or so. But after having children I find that sticky has become a way of life. I am forever sticky...gummy...tacky...and not in that tacky "I'm wearing teal toe nail polish" kind of way. (I mention that because I just made this poor choice today. Not sure what I was thinking. I think I got caught up in my imaginary "Carrie Bradshaw" life again. Shari Bradshaw, if you will. I have a closet full of clothes, shoes and handbags that were purchased when I was under this influence. Then I come back to reality and find my teal toes sticking to the floor.) FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!! Where does this crap come from?!! Raisins? Granola Bars? Cheerios? Juice? I wash these children. I swear that I do. Constantly washing. Wiping. Rinsing. Can't seem to keep up. And when I do get MYSELF cleaned up, it is inevitable that within 10 minutes I will touch something or step in something that I missed. It's like they do it to taunt me. Like little sticky gremlins who are trying to see how much more it will take before I end up hiding in the pantry in the fetal position. #Imightnevercomeout #notabadmomjuststucktothefloor . My favorite part is when Daddy gets home and in his most shocked voice says, "Why is the refrigerator sticky?!". I'm breathing...I'm breathing...and in scary whisper I say, "Be...cause...IIIIIIIIII AMMMMMMM STICKYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!".
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Picture day or root canal? Tough call.
Today was picture day. Yearly picture day. Adam is 2. I could probably end this story here because if you have children, you know this story is not a happy one. But I can feel that you really want me to share, so I will. Maybe it will be cathartic for me. Maybe it will purge the pain from my body. Or maybe I will be returned to that day in my mind and slam my head through a plate glass window. We'll see. Should be fun.
Now let me be clear, this day was made much worse by the fact that I am not the picture person in the family, meaning the one who gives a crap about the pictures. That would be hubby. It could be said that I am not the picture person because I am the one who has to haul these children to have their picture taken! If he had to take them, he might discover that he isn't the picture person that he thinks he is! Not that I don't enjoy pics of my kids, but as any mother can tell you, we see these captured moments of our children with their upturned cherub-like faces and all we can think is, "Boy, he was a shit that day!", or "Right after this was taken, I put her on eBay". It takes years to forget the trauma and nausea that often accompanies 'picture day'. It must take more than 4 years because my daughter is 5 and the experience of her 1 year photo shoot is still embedded in my mind. I tell myself that it fades with time. I have no proof of this. It's just what I tell myself to get through. I see it all so clearly. Where's Alzheimer's when ya need it?
Being the non-picture-person that I am, and the fact that I am absolutely DREADING this day, I haven't purchased special clothes for the kids. Probably out of denial that this day is coming or maybe because I refuse to pay any more money for outfits that they will wear for 10 minutes. (10 minutes because I am a 'Shock and Awe' type of mother. But more on that later.) So I find myself on picture morning digging through their closets and drawers to find 2 outfits that look decent together. I do. I rock. Cue the angels. Now on to hair and makeup. (No makeup but I enjoy the ring to it.) It isn't until this moment that I realize it is like Cowlickapalooza up in here! Good LORD! Not enough gel in the world to deal with all of this. I comb this way and that way, spike, and consider a razor, before just leaving it in God's hands. If he wants my boy to look like Dennis the Menace, so be it. Actually, that isn't too far off. So on to the studio. A 20 minute drive. Oh joy.
Now about the Shock and Awe, I have a speech that I give to all who photograph my kids. "I am going to put this child down. The minute this tush hits the chair, you start clicking. I mean you click like you have never clicked before. Click like you are on FIRE, MAN!! Because once the screaming begins, there's no turning back. There is no 'calm down and go back to pictures in a few minutes'. This is as good as it is going to get and if my children are going to get out of here without a beating, I need to remove them from the area when the screaming commences." By the look on the photog's face, I become Psychic Sue and can deduce whether or not they have children. Adam was better than Kaitlyn at 2 in the attitude dept. but worse in the 'can't sit still' dept. He was crawling out of my arms to get onto the picture platform, but after about 3 1/2 seconds there, couldn't wait to get down. And then the lady tried to POSE HIM!! HAVE YOU HEARD NOTHING THAT I HAVE SAID?!! DOES 'SHOCK AND AWE' RING A BELL? I believe I blurted, "NO POSING! CLICK, WOMAN!". Those of you that know me, know that I would say something like this. It's kind of like Outspoken Tourette's. It runs in the family. Not my fault. But it seems to get the job done. I follow it up with a funny little ditty, when time allows. :)
I think the pictures took all of 6 minutes, including pics of Adam alone and some with the two kids. I wish this thing had audio because you just can't translate the sheer VOLUME through the written word. So we had pushing, wriggling, screaming and photos, oh my. The only way we got through the choosing-of-the-pictures portion of the program was thanks to Skittles. Skittles and their artificial colors and flavors that ended up all over the picture clothes and me. But hey, at least I didn't end up with poop on my face. That seems to be the benchmark of bad days for me. What's that you say? You don't know this story? Well, that is due in part to the post traumatic stress disorder that the 'Poop Incident of 2009' inflicted on me. I have tried to write this story on several occasions but can only get through bits and pieces at a time. Some day I will finish it. Probably as the book is going to print. I mean, I shared the pee story, why not tell #2. Literally. ;)
So pics are done for another year. HALLELUJAH! Got some cute ones, or maybe they are just cute to me because they are done. Neither here nor there. All that matters is that next year Adam will be 3 and he HAS to be easier, right? Right? If you aren't agreeing, you must leave. Mommy can't look at you right now.
Now let me be clear, this day was made much worse by the fact that I am not the picture person in the family, meaning the one who gives a crap about the pictures. That would be hubby. It could be said that I am not the picture person because I am the one who has to haul these children to have their picture taken! If he had to take them, he might discover that he isn't the picture person that he thinks he is! Not that I don't enjoy pics of my kids, but as any mother can tell you, we see these captured moments of our children with their upturned cherub-like faces and all we can think is, "Boy, he was a shit that day!", or "Right after this was taken, I put her on eBay". It takes years to forget the trauma and nausea that often accompanies 'picture day'. It must take more than 4 years because my daughter is 5 and the experience of her 1 year photo shoot is still embedded in my mind. I tell myself that it fades with time. I have no proof of this. It's just what I tell myself to get through. I see it all so clearly. Where's Alzheimer's when ya need it?
Being the non-picture-person that I am, and the fact that I am absolutely DREADING this day, I haven't purchased special clothes for the kids. Probably out of denial that this day is coming or maybe because I refuse to pay any more money for outfits that they will wear for 10 minutes. (10 minutes because I am a 'Shock and Awe' type of mother. But more on that later.) So I find myself on picture morning digging through their closets and drawers to find 2 outfits that look decent together. I do. I rock. Cue the angels. Now on to hair and makeup. (No makeup but I enjoy the ring to it.) It isn't until this moment that I realize it is like Cowlickapalooza up in here! Good LORD! Not enough gel in the world to deal with all of this. I comb this way and that way, spike, and consider a razor, before just leaving it in God's hands. If he wants my boy to look like Dennis the Menace, so be it. Actually, that isn't too far off. So on to the studio. A 20 minute drive. Oh joy.
Now about the Shock and Awe, I have a speech that I give to all who photograph my kids. "I am going to put this child down. The minute this tush hits the chair, you start clicking. I mean you click like you have never clicked before. Click like you are on FIRE, MAN!! Because once the screaming begins, there's no turning back. There is no 'calm down and go back to pictures in a few minutes'. This is as good as it is going to get and if my children are going to get out of here without a beating, I need to remove them from the area when the screaming commences." By the look on the photog's face, I become Psychic Sue and can deduce whether or not they have children. Adam was better than Kaitlyn at 2 in the attitude dept. but worse in the 'can't sit still' dept. He was crawling out of my arms to get onto the picture platform, but after about 3 1/2 seconds there, couldn't wait to get down. And then the lady tried to POSE HIM!! HAVE YOU HEARD NOTHING THAT I HAVE SAID?!! DOES 'SHOCK AND AWE' RING A BELL? I believe I blurted, "NO POSING! CLICK, WOMAN!". Those of you that know me, know that I would say something like this. It's kind of like Outspoken Tourette's. It runs in the family. Not my fault. But it seems to get the job done. I follow it up with a funny little ditty, when time allows. :)
I think the pictures took all of 6 minutes, including pics of Adam alone and some with the two kids. I wish this thing had audio because you just can't translate the sheer VOLUME through the written word. So we had pushing, wriggling, screaming and photos, oh my. The only way we got through the choosing-of-the-pictures portion of the program was thanks to Skittles. Skittles and their artificial colors and flavors that ended up all over the picture clothes and me. But hey, at least I didn't end up with poop on my face. That seems to be the benchmark of bad days for me. What's that you say? You don't know this story? Well, that is due in part to the post traumatic stress disorder that the 'Poop Incident of 2009' inflicted on me. I have tried to write this story on several occasions but can only get through bits and pieces at a time. Some day I will finish it. Probably as the book is going to print. I mean, I shared the pee story, why not tell #2. Literally. ;)
So pics are done for another year. HALLELUJAH! Got some cute ones, or maybe they are just cute to me because they are done. Neither here nor there. All that matters is that next year Adam will be 3 and he HAS to be easier, right? Right? If you aren't agreeing, you must leave. Mommy can't look at you right now.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Hot Potato...
You wanna piss off a mom? Give her some french fries hot out of the fryer!! There is not a mom out there who doesn't know what I am talking about! You decide to treat the kids...be the hero...you know, try to be Dad for a few minutes. So you hit the drive thru, wait for what seems like an eternity while listening to your restless 2 year old scream and his 5 year old sister yell at him to stop screaming, just knowing that quiet bliss is but moments away. And then they give you the bag. As you sit it on your lap and feel the pangs of 2nd degree burns, you know this is NOT gonna be good. Nothing like sitting in the parking lot, with 60 degree temps outside, and the a/c blasting as you hold up french fries to the vent as those mother effers are burning the flesh right off of your fingers. Enduring the confused looks of men who drive by. LOOK AWAY, BUDDY. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MOTHER. The sheer depth, range and scope of ridiculous crap that we have to deal with. It is a constant bombardment on the brain of creativity. How to get through the day with the least amount of screams and tantrums, and the kids act up sometimes as well. (ba-dum-BUM!) :)
But seriously, fresh is NOT GOOD when it comes to children. Give me the fries that have been sitting out for 10 minutes or so. Nothing thrills me like a lukewarm nugget! I am ashamed to admit that I know not to go through the drive-thru at 11:30am. EVERYTHING is hot!! If you are sitting there judging me, then you are a) not a mother, b) you have a huge support system, or c) just a judgemental b-hole who needs to spend a few hours with my youngest. :) I know, you don't have to say it...I'm sweet.
But seriously, fresh is NOT GOOD when it comes to children. Give me the fries that have been sitting out for 10 minutes or so. Nothing thrills me like a lukewarm nugget! I am ashamed to admit that I know not to go through the drive-thru at 11:30am. EVERYTHING is hot!! If you are sitting there judging me, then you are a) not a mother, b) you have a huge support system, or c) just a judgemental b-hole who needs to spend a few hours with my youngest. :) I know, you don't have to say it...I'm sweet.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Incompetent...or incapable? THAT is the question!
Is it just me, or is there an awful lot more screw ups these days? I'm talking...getting cheese on your sandwich when you specifically said no cheese because Weight Watchers frowns on cheese, not because you don't like cheese, you are just forbidden from IT...giving you REAL Coke when you ordered diet...leggings that SAY they are a size 6 but really they are a size 5 so as your daughter is walking into her classroom and she bends down to pick something up you see baby butt crack so now you try to return them and the store confirms that yes, they are marked wrong but you now have all these tops to go w/ the leggings but the store won't return the tops because the tops aren't mismarked but you have no bottoms and your daughter is built like a pole so she can't wear jeans because she is too tall and now you have all of these tops and no bottoms. Ok, that one is likely just me. But what about ordering something through the mail and it arrives broken...or boots w/ 2 right feet...or charging you for the $80 pedicure when your giftcard CLEARLY STATED IT WAS $80 FOR A MANI/PEDI so then you still owe $35 ~faints~ (ok...that one might be just me again).
Can't just be me. Seems as though this is becoming an epidemic. Nobody cares, or they are all stupid. Which is it? One of my Facebook friends recently made a wish that stupidity was painful. Wouldn't. That. Be. AWESOME!?!!!!! Omg! I would LOVE that. I could sit outside of Hot Topics and watch all of these kids saying, "Ow...Ow...OOWWWWW!!!" :D Or I could call Time Warner and hear, "Due to a large volume of ...OW!...calls, wait times are...OW!! ...longer than usual...OWW!! You're call is very...OWW!!...important to us. CRAP! OW!!". That would bring me joy. Because really, who are the stupid people hurting now? ME! Enough, I say!
To the preschool teacher that serves my child her snack at 8:30am when she walks in the door... ENOUGH!!! To the drive thru person who speaks so fast I have no clue what they are saying and NO I DON'T WANT A YUMBO YACK, ENOUGH!!! To the sales clerk who wipes her nose with her hand and then proceeds to hand me my change, ENOUGH! To the receptionist at the doctor's office who acts like she's the one who went to medical school instead of smokin' her cigs behind the 7-11 trying to get someone to buy her beer, ENOUGH!! I'm taking a stand, people!! I will not dumb myself down. Raise the standards! Insist that life rise up to meet you! I am sick and tired of battling and arguing with people who just don't seem to have the sense that God gave a goose! TELL ME it's not just me!!
Can't just be me. Seems as though this is becoming an epidemic. Nobody cares, or they are all stupid. Which is it? One of my Facebook friends recently made a wish that stupidity was painful. Wouldn't. That. Be. AWESOME!?!!!!! Omg! I would LOVE that. I could sit outside of Hot Topics and watch all of these kids saying, "Ow...Ow...OOWWWWW!!!" :D Or I could call Time Warner and hear, "Due to a large volume of ...OW!...calls, wait times are...OW!! ...longer than usual...OWW!! You're call is very...OWW!!...important to us. CRAP! OW!!". That would bring me joy. Because really, who are the stupid people hurting now? ME! Enough, I say!
To the preschool teacher that serves my child her snack at 8:30am when she walks in the door... ENOUGH!!! To the drive thru person who speaks so fast I have no clue what they are saying and NO I DON'T WANT A YUMBO YACK, ENOUGH!!! To the sales clerk who wipes her nose with her hand and then proceeds to hand me my change, ENOUGH! To the receptionist at the doctor's office who acts like she's the one who went to medical school instead of smokin' her cigs behind the 7-11 trying to get someone to buy her beer, ENOUGH!! I'm taking a stand, people!! I will not dumb myself down. Raise the standards! Insist that life rise up to meet you! I am sick and tired of battling and arguing with people who just don't seem to have the sense that God gave a goose! TELL ME it's not just me!!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Here's a tip...
If you find yourself out of time in the morning, and think it would be a good idea to put makeup on in the car at a stoplight, think again. Might as well just stick your head in your makeup bag and shake it around. If you can't get your happy little self up 5 minutes early to slap on some powder and mascara, don't bother. I guarantee, the look you are going for will not be found in a 3"x6" mirror w/ bad lighting. You're gonna end up looking like and old French whore. FOCUS ON THE ROAD, LADY!!
Monday, December 20, 2010
My Disneyland recap...
I realize I've been MIA for about 3 weeks. The shame of it all. :( But the day we went to Disneyland, my mom was watching Adam and long story short, fell down the stairs and broke her leg. So things have been a little busy around these parts, and with Christmas coming...well, ok...excuse out of the way. Moving on...
Back to Disneyland...
"Get your 20-something ASS out of Fantasyland!!" is what I wanted to say. Allow me to wrap up Fantasyland for you young adults out there so that you can move on with your life;
#1 - Prince Charming isn't coming. Trust me. Trust US! (Look at the faces of all the 40-something mothers in line for 45 minutes with their children. Do these look like the faces of women who have been SAVED?! So do us the small favor of taking your "Juicy" butt to another 'land'!) Prince Charming is living in his mama's house playing X-box and hoping for Kinectimals from Santa. Guess what...he's gonna get it!
#2 - The glass slipper might fit, but buy your own damn shoes so you don't have to rely on someone else.
#3 - I'M your fairy godmother and I have an important message for you...GET A LIFE!
Where you should be headed is Tommorowland, as in ..."TOMORROW I needs to find me a job to pay for my shoes so I don't have random TUESDAYS to spend at the Magic Kingdom where I dropped $150 before I reached Sleeping Beauty's Castle!"
And filming the parade?...Really? Really. Gonna TRY to push my baby out of the way so you can see the PEOPLE DRESSED UP AS POOH AND TIGGER!??! News Flash: THEY AREN'T REAL!!!!!!! In line for the Princess Meet & Greet? Really? Nothing better to do? Nada? How about this idea, let me put on my Imagineer helmet for a second and imagine 2 lines to meet the princesses. One line for little 2-8 year old girls and their tired, haggard, want-to-jump-off-the-Matterhorn parents. And one line entitiled, "Pitiful Bastards". I'm thinking a 5-1 ratio. Five little girls to 1 pitiful bastard. Sounds fair. I can hear it now, "Ok girls, it's your turn! And we have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 sweet little girls...and 1 pitiful bastard."
Please God, let me have this job! I believe me and my wooden spoon are up to the task!
Back to Disneyland...
"Get your 20-something ASS out of Fantasyland!!" is what I wanted to say. Allow me to wrap up Fantasyland for you young adults out there so that you can move on with your life;
#1 - Prince Charming isn't coming. Trust me. Trust US! (Look at the faces of all the 40-something mothers in line for 45 minutes with their children. Do these look like the faces of women who have been SAVED?! So do us the small favor of taking your "Juicy" butt to another 'land'!) Prince Charming is living in his mama's house playing X-box and hoping for Kinectimals from Santa. Guess what...he's gonna get it!
#2 - The glass slipper might fit, but buy your own damn shoes so you don't have to rely on someone else.
#3 - I'M your fairy godmother and I have an important message for you...GET A LIFE!
Where you should be headed is Tommorowland, as in ..."TOMORROW I needs to find me a job to pay for my shoes so I don't have random TUESDAYS to spend at the Magic Kingdom where I dropped $150 before I reached Sleeping Beauty's Castle!"
And filming the parade?...Really? Really. Gonna TRY to push my baby out of the way so you can see the PEOPLE DRESSED UP AS POOH AND TIGGER!??! News Flash: THEY AREN'T REAL!!!!!!! In line for the Princess Meet & Greet? Really? Nothing better to do? Nada? How about this idea, let me put on my Imagineer helmet for a second and imagine 2 lines to meet the princesses. One line for little 2-8 year old girls and their tired, haggard, want-to-jump-off-the-Matterhorn parents. And one line entitiled, "Pitiful Bastards". I'm thinking a 5-1 ratio. Five little girls to 1 pitiful bastard. Sounds fair. I can hear it now, "Ok girls, it's your turn! And we have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 sweet little girls...and 1 pitiful bastard."
Please God, let me have this job! I believe me and my wooden spoon are up to the task!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
There, but for Camille Grammer, go I.
It has come to my attention that there may be some things that I neglected to mention. Not intentionally, I just didn't think about it until one night when a few friends close to the situation, pointed it out to me. And then it hit me. Like a TON. OF. BRICKS!...I could have been Camille Grammer. True story.
So there I was...circa 1991, a fresh faced 21 year old, little Miss Sassy, doing my thang at the Red Onion. That's a restaurant/nightclub that used to be the ONLY hang out in the area. I was just dancing, enjoying a little Vanilla Ice, because... I mean...who doesn't?! Am I right?! ;) When this man comes up to me and says he has a friend who wants to meet me. Hmmmm...interesante'. So I was intrigued because this guy was dressed in a suit, and in a world full of Hammer pants, he stood out like a ho' in church. When we got to the bar...who was sitting there?! None other than KELSEY GRAMMER. I kid. you. not. This wasn't the tidy Kelsey of late. This was the-last-season-of-Cheers-w/-the-long-straggly-hair-and-bad-coke-habit Kelsey. Not attractive. So did I maintain my composure, you ask? Did I conduct myself as though this sort of thing was not unusual and happened to me all the time? But of course I didn't. My exact words were...~insert high shrill voice of a teenager~ "WELL LOOK WHO YOU ARE?!!!". He glanced up at me over his drink and said in his sad, defeated voice, "Who am I?". I said, "You're Frazier Crane!!". So pretty much the romance died right there at the bar of the Red Onion. He bought me a drink and I walked away. ~whispers~ Foreverrrrrr.
So, cut to me having drinks last week w/ some girlfriends and telling this story. When I finished a few ladies where staring at me with their mouths open. What?! This is when they chastised me for not disclosing this tidbit of info on my blog. Never occurred to me!! But then I started putting the pieces together. Camille was a dancer...I was dancing! Camille was a young 20's girl w/ big hair in the early 90's...I was a 21 year old, big-haired girl! OMG! So close! Whew! Kinda made me sweat for a second. Dodged a bullet on that one, my friends! Not saying that Kelsey is unattractive now, but back in the day...eeeek! And I had no desire to be the drug addict's savior. That's God's job, not mine.
So thinking about all of my rantings and ravings about this hollowed out, shell of a woman (Camille, not me!), could this just be sour grapes? The green-eyed monster having its way with me. And it is entirely possible that I have suppressed and suppressed until it has shown itself in the form of beating her Botoxed, so-you-think-you-can-dance-but-not-without-a-pole, insecure self about the head & shoulders. Maybe it is time to reflect. Look SHARI in the eyes and see what's behind all of this Camille angst...aaaaaannnnnnd, we're done. NOPE, no jealousy. Just the overwhelming urge to slap her. :) Thank you and goodnight.
So there I was...circa 1991, a fresh faced 21 year old, little Miss Sassy, doing my thang at the Red Onion. That's a restaurant/nightclub that used to be the ONLY hang out in the area. I was just dancing, enjoying a little Vanilla Ice, because... I mean...who doesn't?! Am I right?! ;) When this man comes up to me and says he has a friend who wants to meet me. Hmmmm...interesante'. So I was intrigued because this guy was dressed in a suit, and in a world full of Hammer pants, he stood out like a ho' in church. When we got to the bar...who was sitting there?! None other than KELSEY GRAMMER. I kid. you. not. This wasn't the tidy Kelsey of late. This was the-last-season-of-Cheers-w/-the-long-straggly-hair-and-bad-coke-habit Kelsey. Not attractive. So did I maintain my composure, you ask? Did I conduct myself as though this sort of thing was not unusual and happened to me all the time? But of course I didn't. My exact words were...~insert high shrill voice of a teenager~ "WELL LOOK WHO YOU ARE?!!!". He glanced up at me over his drink and said in his sad, defeated voice, "Who am I?". I said, "You're Frazier Crane!!". So pretty much the romance died right there at the bar of the Red Onion. He bought me a drink and I walked away. ~whispers~ Foreverrrrrr.
So, cut to me having drinks last week w/ some girlfriends and telling this story. When I finished a few ladies where staring at me with their mouths open. What?! This is when they chastised me for not disclosing this tidbit of info on my blog. Never occurred to me!! But then I started putting the pieces together. Camille was a dancer...I was dancing! Camille was a young 20's girl w/ big hair in the early 90's...I was a 21 year old, big-haired girl! OMG! So close! Whew! Kinda made me sweat for a second. Dodged a bullet on that one, my friends! Not saying that Kelsey is unattractive now, but back in the day...eeeek! And I had no desire to be the drug addict's savior. That's God's job, not mine.
So thinking about all of my rantings and ravings about this hollowed out, shell of a woman (Camille, not me!), could this just be sour grapes? The green-eyed monster having its way with me. And it is entirely possible that I have suppressed and suppressed until it has shown itself in the form of beating her Botoxed, so-you-think-you-can-dance-but-not-without-a-pole, insecure self about the head & shoulders. Maybe it is time to reflect. Look SHARI in the eyes and see what's behind all of this Camille angst...aaaaaannnnnnd, we're done. NOPE, no jealousy. Just the overwhelming urge to slap her. :) Thank you and goodnight.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Went to Super Target today, and I have some thoughts...
Numero uno! Although I am pleased as punch about the new Super Target w/ the grocery store, pulling into the parking lot I spy a HUGE GRIEVANCE!! All of the cart return thingies are in the front row of the parking lot. WTH?!! Which told me that there were no mothers on that planning board!! So I have a 4 year old and an 80 lb. 17 month old (not really, but he feels like it) that I have to haul WITH my cart cover because...well, just because eeeewww! So we park in the back because every mother knows that if you try to park near the front, some idiot will park so close to your car that you won't be able to get yourself, much less the kids and all the paraphernalia out! The wind is blowing like a banshee and so I will admit that I had a bit of a 'tude going in. I own that. But does that mean I am wrong when I get inside the store and see Kim Kardashian staring at me from People magazine with the headline, "I thought I'd be married by now", and I give an audible, "Oh Kim, SHUT UP!". When my daughter looked up at me I realized that was out loud and not in my head. Although in glancing around, I got a few head nods as if to say, "Go on w/ your bad self, sista!". So on I went.
I do love me some Kim Kardashian, but that kind of whining I just can't tolerate. Lucky for her I didn't see Marie Osmond on Oprah before I saw that cover. I might have had to whip out a Sharpie. (Why, you ask? Oh...no reason. :) ) Poor little Kim is 30 and thought she'd be married by now. Well guess what, Kimmie? I thought I'd be living in a mansion, getting paid to get facials and smile at parties. Oh no, wait...that's YOU! Life isn't fair, but you've gotten more than your share so maybe having to wait a few more years to be married ain't all that bad! (FYI, if I start whippin' out the "aint's", it's time to duck.)
I'd hate to have to add Kim to my prayer list alongside Camille Grammer. Next thing you know, Kim will be married w/ 2 kids, 6 nannies, a butler, and Alice from Brady Bunch. All I can suggest to Miss Kardashian is that she call 1 (800) waaaaaa, or maybe www.stopcryingyoupatheticbaby.com. It's just pissing the rest of us off.
I do love me some Kim Kardashian, but that kind of whining I just can't tolerate. Lucky for her I didn't see Marie Osmond on Oprah before I saw that cover. I might have had to whip out a Sharpie. (Why, you ask? Oh...no reason. :) ) Poor little Kim is 30 and thought she'd be married by now. Well guess what, Kimmie? I thought I'd be living in a mansion, getting paid to get facials and smile at parties. Oh no, wait...that's YOU! Life isn't fair, but you've gotten more than your share so maybe having to wait a few more years to be married ain't all that bad! (FYI, if I start whippin' out the "aint's", it's time to duck.)
I'd hate to have to add Kim to my prayer list alongside Camille Grammer. Next thing you know, Kim will be married w/ 2 kids, 6 nannies, a butler, and Alice from Brady Bunch. All I can suggest to Miss Kardashian is that she call 1 (800) waaaaaa, or maybe www.stopcryingyoupatheticbaby.com. It's just pissing the rest of us off.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Camille Grammer vs. Marie Osmond...
So today I watched the most recent installment of the Real Housewives of B.H. Or as I like to call it...Camille Is Bat Shit Crazy. Immediately following that pitiful, hollowed out, train wreck, I watched Marie Osmond talking to Oprah about the death of her son. And I cried...and cried...and cried. I mean, seriously, you'd have thought I knew her. Although I feel like I do in some way. (I had her Barbie as a kid, so that's something. She had a hole in her hand to hold the microphone, made me think of Jesus, although he didn't have a microphone, but I bet he could sing, I mean...Son of God...pretty good bet being able to sing was part of the package... and Donny had purple socks, but I digress.) But what I knew were those pictures of those chubby little toddler cheeks, and those sweet, big eyes looking up at you...sniff, sniff...(ok, who am I trying to kid?! I'm still bawling as I type this.) Now THAT is a mom. An amazing mother of 8 children who never had nannies, but honestly had a reason for one! or FOUR! A woman who is focused on what's important in life, although I wasn't a fan of the big upper lip, Marie! You don't need a big upper lip! You are beautiful just as you are, so stop it! Lip plumping is ridiculous, and we all can see that it is fake, so it's not like anyone is thinking 'wow, look at those really full, sensuous lips'. We are thinking..."Who the hell just whacked you in the mouth w/ a skillet?". And who wants people to look at you and think that? Cuz then I'm thinking skillet, which leads to bacon, which leads to a BLT, but I'd have to make it on white bread because Kaitlyn won't eat the wheat, I hate to have to buy 2 loaves of bread for the house, she really needs to eat the wheat...and now I've just missed the last 5 minutes of what Marie's said and I have to rewind.
The differences between these 2 women were so glaring after watching these shows back to back. After Oprah I actually said out loud, "What a silly woman you are, Camille Grammer." Sad and silly. (and INSECURE!! HA! There, I said it! You projector!...projecter?...one who projects?...who is projecting upon others the things she feels about herself?...ANYWAY, you know who you are!)
So I had a Target rant that I was going to unleash after I caught up on my shows, but Target will have to wait until later. I was so full of emotion that I had to share. I need to go hug my babies now. Ugh...they are fighting...ok, butt swats and THEN hugging my babies.
The differences between these 2 women were so glaring after watching these shows back to back. After Oprah I actually said out loud, "What a silly woman you are, Camille Grammer." Sad and silly. (and INSECURE!! HA! There, I said it! You projector!...projecter?...one who projects?...who is projecting upon others the things she feels about herself?...ANYWAY, you know who you are!)
So I had a Target rant that I was going to unleash after I caught up on my shows, but Target will have to wait until later. I was so full of emotion that I had to share. I need to go hug my babies now. Ugh...they are fighting...ok, butt swats and THEN hugging my babies.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Happy Birthday, Smelly Cat!
Now, I love my husband...don't get me wrong. BUT, what is the dealio with greeting cards these days?! I am BEYOND frustrated. I go to get him a birthday card and heaven help me, but I'm in that freakin' aisle for 30 minutes!! Every card says, "To the man I love...", yeah...ok, I do love him, but what is this...Days of Our Lives?! "For the one who makes my life complete...", "I never knew love could feel this way..." (ok, that one is kinda true cuz sometimes it really blows), "If someone would have told me that in the ocean of love I would meet someone as great as you ...". Oh dear LORD, I'm nauseous over here! Can't you just say, "Hey buddy, love ya more than my luggage, and I'm forever grateful that I don't have to go on any more loser dates. If you could see it in your heart to keep the farting to a minimum, I'd be forever grateful. Happy Birthday!". As I was talking to these ridiculous cards at Target, I noticed some young 20-somethings picking out 'Love' cards. I'm sure I burst a few bubbles as I'm repeatedly saying, "Oh PUUUHHHLEEEZ!", with a fussy baby in the cart and a 4 year old singing her version of Preschool Musical. Well, consider it my Public Service Announcement. Someone has to break it down for these ladies. It ain't all hearts and roses. Most often it's butts and sippy cups. IN that order.
Sidebar: I was shopping at Nordstrom's last week and the salesgirl was about 22 years old. She was talking about her boyfriend who only liked to travel w/ the amount of stuff he could fit into his backpack. (I'm thinking, "What, is he NINE?! That's not a man, that's a boy!) She was trying to convince him to go to either Hawaii or to Italy with her. THEN Salesgirl says, "Yeah, I told him I'd pay because otherwise we'd never go. He would never spend money like that on me." That's when my mouth flew open. As if it was separate from my body. I jumped my little (shut up!) self, right into that girl's beeswax and said, "Aaah, little tip from one who dated for 17 years before finding Mr. Right...if he won't spend money on you NOW, he never will. If you want to dish out that kind of money, take one of your girlfriends with you. You will have a much better time and you will never regret it." Wish you could have seen the look on her face. It's like the clouds parted and she saw the light for the first time! And then, like Spiderman fading into the night, I was gone. My work here was done. Now back to our regularly scheduled program...
I truly think that the people who wrote these cards are not married. That should be a requirement. And I'm talking married for like 5 years, at least! If you've only been married for a couple of years then you can work in the Engagement Dept., or in Newlyweds. You cannot work in the Anniversary Dept! And I believe that Mr. Hallmark needs to separate the Anniversary Dept. into smaller divisions, one being cards for couples married less than 5 years...let's call it the Isn't Love Grand Dept.
Next, we have the section for couples who have been married for 5-10 years w/ young children, entitled Love is Great but I'd Rather Sleep Dept. (This is my dept. :) ) For those who have been married from 10-20 years, Who Does a Girl Gotta Sleep With To Get Some HELP Around This House!?! Dept. And for those fantastic couples who have made it 20+ years we have the I'm Too Tired To Tell You You're An Idiot Dept. ~cue music~ "...there is loooooooove....therrrrrre...iiiiiissss...looooooooooove."
Sidebar: I was shopping at Nordstrom's last week and the salesgirl was about 22 years old. She was talking about her boyfriend who only liked to travel w/ the amount of stuff he could fit into his backpack. (I'm thinking, "What, is he NINE?! That's not a man, that's a boy!) She was trying to convince him to go to either Hawaii or to Italy with her. THEN Salesgirl says, "Yeah, I told him I'd pay because otherwise we'd never go. He would never spend money like that on me." That's when my mouth flew open. As if it was separate from my body. I jumped my little (shut up!) self, right into that girl's beeswax and said, "Aaah, little tip from one who dated for 17 years before finding Mr. Right...if he won't spend money on you NOW, he never will. If you want to dish out that kind of money, take one of your girlfriends with you. You will have a much better time and you will never regret it." Wish you could have seen the look on her face. It's like the clouds parted and she saw the light for the first time! And then, like Spiderman fading into the night, I was gone. My work here was done. Now back to our regularly scheduled program...
I truly think that the people who wrote these cards are not married. That should be a requirement. And I'm talking married for like 5 years, at least! If you've only been married for a couple of years then you can work in the Engagement Dept., or in Newlyweds. You cannot work in the Anniversary Dept! And I believe that Mr. Hallmark needs to separate the Anniversary Dept. into smaller divisions, one being cards for couples married less than 5 years...let's call it the Isn't Love Grand Dept.
Next, we have the section for couples who have been married for 5-10 years w/ young children, entitled Love is Great but I'd Rather Sleep Dept. (This is my dept. :) ) For those who have been married from 10-20 years, Who Does a Girl Gotta Sleep With To Get Some HELP Around This House!?! Dept. And for those fantastic couples who have made it 20+ years we have the I'm Too Tired To Tell You You're An Idiot Dept. ~cue music~ "...there is loooooooove....therrrrrre...iiiiiissss...looooooooooove."
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Let us all pray for Camille Grammer...
God bless her hard working soul. This poor, unfortunate woman has it tough. My heart truly goes out to her. It's not that I think celebrities (she's married to Kelsey, in case you didn't know) don't have problems, I just didn't realize the magnitude of their problems. How. Does. She. Do. It? Well, I tell ya, she's an absolute inspiration to me. Makes me so thankful that I don't have to try to handle 2 half-grown children with only 4 nannies and a house manager. I was so happy to see that she was able to get away to Hawaii and get some alone time. She looked stressed, and I'm sure she could use the rest...~tires screeching~
HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, let me throw a BEATING in it! (Sorry, the high school cheerleader in me came out of nowhere! She does that when I'm overly excited.) Is she kidding? I know she's not, but I am ready to put a WWF-sized SMACKDOWN on this woman. She needs to be absolutely ASHAMED of herself!! Now I am blessed (that's what they tell me.) to be able to stay home with my children, and I only have 2, which contrary to the popular 80's t.v. show...IS ENOUGH! But as crazy as these children make me, I would not be able to come up w/ enough stuff for TWO nannies, much less FOUR! And my kidlets are 1 and 4! If they were the ages of her kids, looks like 8 & 9ish, I'd be having a freakin' party!
Other than make a sandwich and get some juice...what do these nannies do all day? I tease about wanting a nanny, what mom doesn't. I am known to use the phrases, "Where's the Nanny?", "Call the Nanny!", "I'm going to fire that freakin' Nanny!". But in reality, I wouldn't let her take my kids to the doc...I want to be there. I wouldn't let her get up with my kids in the middle of the night...they need their Mommy, and I need to see that they are ok. I guess I'd let her change a diaper or two, maybe dish out some raisins and juice...that would be nice. But mostly, I think my nanny would sit here while my kidlets nap so I can run to Target. Not really worth paying someone for that. I guess I could have Diaper Nanny, Juice Nanny, Sandwich Nanny, and Nose-Wipin' Nanny. But do I really need this many people standing around staring at me? Listening to me while I talk to myself? ("Tell me you aren't going to do something, when Mommy tells you to. You MOVE when I say move! Who do they think they are talking to? I brought them into this world, and I can take them out!) I say NAY! I like to keep 'crazy' behind closed doors, thankyouverymuch.
Maybe Camille is good for us REAL moms. Those of us that wouldn't trade our kids for a million bucks, but wouldn't give you a nickel for another one. The moms in the trenches who have to get the kids up, out the door...oops, the baby pooped...back in the house, change the diaper...out the door...forgot the lunchbox, pack the lunch...out the door...4 year old has to pee, unbuckle carseat, back in the house...out the door. ( I'm not really out the door yet but I could do this all day, and I have. So let's just stop here, shall we?) If it weren't for Camille, to remind us what a great mom really looks like, we might just be floating aimlessly out in the world. Camille has given us purpose!! Focus!! Drive!! Yes, DRIVE...as in, "let's DRIVE to Camille's house and punch her in the face!" I kid. I wouldn't waste the gas.
But one can't help but wonder, when Camille is in her golden years...how many nurses will her children hire?
HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE, let me throw a BEATING in it! (Sorry, the high school cheerleader in me came out of nowhere! She does that when I'm overly excited.) Is she kidding? I know she's not, but I am ready to put a WWF-sized SMACKDOWN on this woman. She needs to be absolutely ASHAMED of herself!! Now I am blessed (that's what they tell me.) to be able to stay home with my children, and I only have 2, which contrary to the popular 80's t.v. show...IS ENOUGH! But as crazy as these children make me, I would not be able to come up w/ enough stuff for TWO nannies, much less FOUR! And my kidlets are 1 and 4! If they were the ages of her kids, looks like 8 & 9ish, I'd be having a freakin' party!
Other than make a sandwich and get some juice...what do these nannies do all day? I tease about wanting a nanny, what mom doesn't. I am known to use the phrases, "Where's the Nanny?", "Call the Nanny!", "I'm going to fire that freakin' Nanny!". But in reality, I wouldn't let her take my kids to the doc...I want to be there. I wouldn't let her get up with my kids in the middle of the night...they need their Mommy, and I need to see that they are ok. I guess I'd let her change a diaper or two, maybe dish out some raisins and juice...that would be nice. But mostly, I think my nanny would sit here while my kidlets nap so I can run to Target. Not really worth paying someone for that. I guess I could have Diaper Nanny, Juice Nanny, Sandwich Nanny, and Nose-Wipin' Nanny. But do I really need this many people standing around staring at me? Listening to me while I talk to myself? ("Tell me you aren't going to do something, when Mommy tells you to. You MOVE when I say move! Who do they think they are talking to? I brought them into this world, and I can take them out!) I say NAY! I like to keep 'crazy' behind closed doors, thankyouverymuch.
Maybe Camille is good for us REAL moms. Those of us that wouldn't trade our kids for a million bucks, but wouldn't give you a nickel for another one. The moms in the trenches who have to get the kids up, out the door...oops, the baby pooped...back in the house, change the diaper...out the door...forgot the lunchbox, pack the lunch...out the door...4 year old has to pee, unbuckle carseat, back in the house...out the door. ( I'm not really out the door yet but I could do this all day, and I have. So let's just stop here, shall we?) If it weren't for Camille, to remind us what a great mom really looks like, we might just be floating aimlessly out in the world. Camille has given us purpose!! Focus!! Drive!! Yes, DRIVE...as in, "let's DRIVE to Camille's house and punch her in the face!" I kid. I wouldn't waste the gas.
But one can't help but wonder, when Camille is in her golden years...how many nurses will her children hire?
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Search is OVER! ~cue angels~
For YEARS, and I do mean YEARS, I have searched for a Christmas Tree topper. Unlike my success w/ antenna ball toppers, the perfect Christmas Tree topper has eluded me. Year after year, I feel unmeasurable joy when I'm decorating my tree, until...Topper Time. Ugh. Freakin' Star Topper w/ it's 4 inch cord!! What am I supposed to do with that?! Anyone?! And then there's that clip that will snap your finger right off, if you aren't careful! Of course the star is too heavy so after clipping, you get to watch in horror as it starts to leeeeean. Double UGH! And what about the height? Why is it the tree always goes right up to the ceiling so the topper won't fit (even if you COULD get it on!) without dinging the ceiling?! I don't know about you but I'm NOT A FAN of dinging my ceiling! So all of my happy happy, joy joy of decorating the tree is ruined in the last 5...ok, who am I kidding...30 MINUTES of trying to wrastle (it's a word) with the topper. This is about the point where I consume 2 1/2 lbs of the fudge I've made for Christmas. Ughtothemax.
Ok, so today...this year...will be different. I have found the answer to my prayers! Yes, I have actually prayed for this. Although it comes out more like, "Oh my GOD, PLEEEEEZE fit, you MOTHER%&*%^!! If we can put a man on the moon (and why is it the man on the moon is always brought into it?! Thank God for him.) WHY can't someone make a freakin' TREE TOPPER that FITS and isn't completely USELESS!?!". Those days are over, kids. And speaking of kids...those days are over just in time so that I don't scare my children. (any further.)
Gaze upon all that is wonderful and glorious. All is calm...all is bright...
Why the FRICK didn't someone think of this sooner?!! The angst I could have avoided over the last 15 years! Aaaaaahhhh...this little gem is mine! And for only $16! Thank you Pottery Barn, for anticipating my every need and providing me with free shipping. I shall sing your praises every Christmas from this day forward, til death do us part. Amen.
Btw (By The Way, get with it!), click on the title of this post and it will take you to Pottery Barn Kids where you too, can purchase your own tree topper! Aren't I fancy? :) (and not getting paid by PBK to do this...yet!)
Ok, so today...this year...will be different. I have found the answer to my prayers! Yes, I have actually prayed for this. Although it comes out more like, "Oh my GOD, PLEEEEEZE fit, you MOTHER%&*%^!! If we can put a man on the moon (and why is it the man on the moon is always brought into it?! Thank God for him.) WHY can't someone make a freakin' TREE TOPPER that FITS and isn't completely USELESS!?!". Those days are over, kids. And speaking of kids...those days are over just in time so that I don't scare my children. (any further.)
Gaze upon all that is wonderful and glorious. All is calm...all is bright...
Why the FRICK didn't someone think of this sooner?!! The angst I could have avoided over the last 15 years! Aaaaaahhhh...this little gem is mine! And for only $16! Thank you Pottery Barn, for anticipating my every need and providing me with free shipping. I shall sing your praises every Christmas from this day forward, til death do us part. Amen.
Btw (By The Way, get with it!), click on the title of this post and it will take you to Pottery Barn Kids where you too, can purchase your own tree topper! Aren't I fancy? :) (and not getting paid by PBK to do this...yet!)
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
STOP THE PRESSES!!
There is currently a phenomenon taking place across America and your roving reporter is here to bring it to you! Don't be fooled by media propaganda! The recession is apparently all in our imaginations, because although "my call is very important" to them, they are "currently experiencing high call volumes & longer wait times". Who is 'them' you ask? Well, apparently it is EVERYONE! EVERY flingin' flangin' company from here to the Appalachians is experiencing 'high flippin' call volume'! Phone company, cable company, refrigerator repairman, and even freakin' QVC!! (Yeah, I said QVC! So what?! Wanna fight? I Q...do you?) So business must be good, huh? Since everybody seems to be so busy! Or are the millions who are out of work sitting at home on the phone calling these companies because they are lonely and need someone to talk to? Here's a thought...how about HIRING some of these out of work Americans to man your phones?!! Seems to be a desperate need, unless you think it is good customer service to keep a woman on HOLD FOR 25 MINUTES WHO HAS 2 LITTLE KIDS?!!!!!! Oh, and don't think I didn't write your name down MR. DAVID, aka Customer Care Specialist?!!! I got your specialist right here!!
And I'm breathing...I'm breathing...release...relent...relinquish...recoil...rebar...wth?... reheat?...ok, moving on! I'm not an idiot. (Shut up!) I know they are not really experiencing a 'high volume of calls'. They've just laid off 80% of their staff and are leaving the normal volume of calls up to Skippy and Mr. David, Customer Care Specialist. So just don't lie to me. That's what ticks me off! When that freakin' recording says OVER and OVER that I'm special, they love me, the sun rises and sets on me...blah, blah, blah, it makes me want to HURT SOMEONE. Meanwhile, I've got a crick in my neck from wiping butts and making peanut butter sandwiches w/ the phone in my ear! I would much rather hear the truth..."Due to the fact that business is currently sucking, we've got 2 teenagers w/ attitudes who'd rather be anywhere but here (and have no authority to solve your problems) answering our phones because we only have to pay them in sandwiches and Jamba Juice. We've asked them to please give a crap and speak as though they don't have a mouth full of marshmallows and are on triple the legal dose of Valium, but they are teenagers, what can ya do?! Please rest assured that when business improves, we will hire even more teenagers because let's be honest, they are cheap and we really want to make as much money as possible at the customer's expense. Thank you for your patience, now go shit in a hat." :)
And I'm breathing...I'm breathing...release...relent...relinquish...recoil...rebar...wth?... reheat?...ok, moving on! I'm not an idiot. (Shut up!) I know they are not really experiencing a 'high volume of calls'. They've just laid off 80% of their staff and are leaving the normal volume of calls up to Skippy and Mr. David, Customer Care Specialist. So just don't lie to me. That's what ticks me off! When that freakin' recording says OVER and OVER that I'm special, they love me, the sun rises and sets on me...blah, blah, blah, it makes me want to HURT SOMEONE. Meanwhile, I've got a crick in my neck from wiping butts and making peanut butter sandwiches w/ the phone in my ear! I would much rather hear the truth..."Due to the fact that business is currently sucking, we've got 2 teenagers w/ attitudes who'd rather be anywhere but here (and have no authority to solve your problems) answering our phones because we only have to pay them in sandwiches and Jamba Juice. We've asked them to please give a crap and speak as though they don't have a mouth full of marshmallows and are on triple the legal dose of Valium, but they are teenagers, what can ya do?! Please rest assured that when business improves, we will hire even more teenagers because let's be honest, they are cheap and we really want to make as much money as possible at the customer's expense. Thank you for your patience, now go shit in a hat." :)
Monday, June 21, 2010
Pioneer Woman let me down...
It was a MADDENING day in the Brown house yesterday!!! SO maddening that I couldn't even post about it until I calmed down. I wasted THREE sticks of butter!! AND my house was full of smoke! So bad that when I got home from the store I could smell smoke from the driveway. Then we had to leave and close up the house. That was nice to come home to. Cleaning a disaster of a kitchen and smelling smoke everywhere! Burned cinnamon, pecans and sugar is a lovely stench. But I digress...
Remember the cinnamon coffee cake recipe I posted a few days ago? The one from my fave lady, Pioneer Woman? Welllllll, after waiting all week to make this lovely for Father's Day brunch, I spend my Sunday morning beating egg whites, anticipating the deliciousness. The recipe says to put the cake in a 9x13 or in an 8x11 if you want thicker slices of cake. So that makes me think that the 9x13 is going to have skinny little pieces. Why did she have to say that?!! I was going to do the 9x13 until she said that! I don't want pitiful slices! Cut to the chase...lava overflow in my oven. Cake burning on bottom of oven. LOTS of cake burning! Smoke everywhere and I had to dump the cake. No saving it. It was still raw in the middle but there was so much smoke I couldn't keep cooking it. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I was soooo mad.
But wait, it gets worse...off to Donut Shop for some fresh cinnamon rolls. I fill a box, go to pay. I'm $2 short and the dude doesn't take debit or credit cards. I just stood there staring at him and then said sorry and left. Off to Albertson's. Cuz you know they are known for their cinnamon rolls. (insert sarcasm and eye-rolling here). I was so pissed!
So last night I get onto PW's website to let her know that her instructions SUCK, only to see that she has changed the recipe. It now says, "bake in a 9x13 or LARGER". Yes, just like that, with the big bold letters. Obviously I wasn't the only one w/ problems and she did apologize. She's still in a timeout for another day or so, & then I'll get over it. (not really, I'll probably hang onto this for a while, but I do love her recipes.)
Thank goodness we were having Father's Day at Mom's house and not mine! We came home to a stinky house and a dirty kitchen. I can't even tell you about my oven. OVENSSSSSSSSSSSS! Because while scraping the ooze and charcoal out of the top one, some slipped down under the door onto the bottom oven. When I opened the bottom oven door to get the ooze, it dripped into THAT oven! OMG!!! Ok, I'm breathing...I'm breathing...And as every mother knows, I'm dealing w/ all this while trying to feed everyone dinner, kids want to play in the baby pool, everyone needs a bath, etc. NOT FUN!!
Remember the cinnamon coffee cake recipe I posted a few days ago? The one from my fave lady, Pioneer Woman? Welllllll, after waiting all week to make this lovely for Father's Day brunch, I spend my Sunday morning beating egg whites, anticipating the deliciousness. The recipe says to put the cake in a 9x13 or in an 8x11 if you want thicker slices of cake. So that makes me think that the 9x13 is going to have skinny little pieces. Why did she have to say that?!! I was going to do the 9x13 until she said that! I don't want pitiful slices! Cut to the chase...lava overflow in my oven. Cake burning on bottom of oven. LOTS of cake burning! Smoke everywhere and I had to dump the cake. No saving it. It was still raw in the middle but there was so much smoke I couldn't keep cooking it. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I was soooo mad.
But wait, it gets worse...off to Donut Shop for some fresh cinnamon rolls. I fill a box, go to pay. I'm $2 short and the dude doesn't take debit or credit cards. I just stood there staring at him and then said sorry and left. Off to Albertson's. Cuz you know they are known for their cinnamon rolls. (insert sarcasm and eye-rolling here). I was so pissed!
So last night I get onto PW's website to let her know that her instructions SUCK, only to see that she has changed the recipe. It now says, "bake in a 9x13 or LARGER". Yes, just like that, with the big bold letters. Obviously I wasn't the only one w/ problems and she did apologize. She's still in a timeout for another day or so, & then I'll get over it. (not really, I'll probably hang onto this for a while, but I do love her recipes.)
Thank goodness we were having Father's Day at Mom's house and not mine! We came home to a stinky house and a dirty kitchen. I can't even tell you about my oven. OVENSSSSSSSSSSSS! Because while scraping the ooze and charcoal out of the top one, some slipped down under the door onto the bottom oven. When I opened the bottom oven door to get the ooze, it dripped into THAT oven! OMG!!! Ok, I'm breathing...I'm breathing...And as every mother knows, I'm dealing w/ all this while trying to feed everyone dinner, kids want to play in the baby pool, everyone needs a bath, etc. NOT FUN!!
Monday, May 24, 2010
I miss cooking.
I know, I know, don't hate me! But I do. It hit me yesterday that part of my frustration w/ little Adam is that I don't have the time to cook or plan out my meals like I used to. I feel like I throw stuff together last minute. It's still healthy, but just not fun for me.
My girls know me, I can become obsessed w/ a cookbook and recipes and go on cooking binges for days talking of nothing but soup! Hypothetically speaking, of course. ;) Ok, so there's a story there but I'll save that for another day. But all this baby business has just been cramping my style for a long time now (love you Adam, just being honest), add in the pregnancy from hell and I just miss doing the stuff that makes me, ME!
So just a little venting for today...maybe tomorrow, too. Having a rough time of it in Mommyland lately and needing something to get me back in touch w/ myself & relieve some of this stress. It seems like at the end of the day I'm desperately trying to find something to take this feeling away. This feeling like I can't catch my breath. (I had it so badly the other day and then realized I was actually having an asthma episode. lol I literally couldn't breathe.) Some days it is a walk or run, some days a glass of wine. I'm trying to stay away from cake. Cake would be bad. It would be sooooo good, but then it would be bad. Have you ever felt like you were crawling out of your skin? And I just want to scream, or run, or run screaming until it goes away. I get it to go away, usually, right before I go to bed so I can get up and do it all over again.
Ok, this has gotten way too heavy & I've gone to the dark, twisty place. Someone's screaming, and it isn't me (I checked), so that's my cue. Muah!
My girls know me, I can become obsessed w/ a cookbook and recipes and go on cooking binges for days talking of nothing but soup! Hypothetically speaking, of course. ;) Ok, so there's a story there but I'll save that for another day. But all this baby business has just been cramping my style for a long time now (love you Adam, just being honest), add in the pregnancy from hell and I just miss doing the stuff that makes me, ME!
So just a little venting for today...maybe tomorrow, too. Having a rough time of it in Mommyland lately and needing something to get me back in touch w/ myself & relieve some of this stress. It seems like at the end of the day I'm desperately trying to find something to take this feeling away. This feeling like I can't catch my breath. (I had it so badly the other day and then realized I was actually having an asthma episode. lol I literally couldn't breathe.) Some days it is a walk or run, some days a glass of wine. I'm trying to stay away from cake. Cake would be bad. It would be sooooo good, but then it would be bad. Have you ever felt like you were crawling out of your skin? And I just want to scream, or run, or run screaming until it goes away. I get it to go away, usually, right before I go to bed so I can get up and do it all over again.
Ok, this has gotten way too heavy & I've gone to the dark, twisty place. Someone's screaming, and it isn't me (I checked), so that's my cue. Muah!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
LEAVE MY SHOES ALONE!!!!!
AAAGGGGHHH!! This kid is LITERALLY into everything. I look away for 2 seconds to put my hair in a ponytail (ya know, cuz it's part of the 'mom' uniform) and he's opened the closet door, in my laundry basket and getting my SHOES! You may recall that he has this thing for shoes, mainly licking the bottoms. Blech! But when the boy starts taking shoes out of the shoe boxes, well now he's gone too far!
Ruh roh!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Case of the blahs...
Sorry guys, I've had a case of the blahs so I've been a little bit MIA. Actually, I've had a case of the 'OMG Adam, MUST you get into everything?!!' blues. This kid is like a Tazmanian Devil! Little Taz is what I'm calling him. He goes from one thing to the next in the speed of light. Now he's opening doors! And don't start w/ the door knob protector thingies, we've got too many freakin' doors. Same problem w/ the kitchen! I have 21 cupboards, not counting drawers, in my new kitchen. No way can I put locks on all those.
I know this is just part of the process. Worst part, if you ask me. I think from ages 1-2 is the hardest because you have to establish the rules. He's doing pretty good staying out of my cookbook shelves, but only because I have planted myself next to them and swatted his hand every time he touches them. After about 68 times he started getting the picture.
Junior is napping now. These days when I hear him stirring, my first thought is...'here we go again!' Followed immediately by...'how much longer until nap #2?!!' Just being honest!
So I'll be back in top shape soon, I hope! Unless these children just beat me into oblivion. :)
I know this is just part of the process. Worst part, if you ask me. I think from ages 1-2 is the hardest because you have to establish the rules. He's doing pretty good staying out of my cookbook shelves, but only because I have planted myself next to them and swatted his hand every time he touches them. After about 68 times he started getting the picture.
Junior is napping now. These days when I hear him stirring, my first thought is...'here we go again!' Followed immediately by...'how much longer until nap #2?!!' Just being honest!
So I'll be back in top shape soon, I hope! Unless these children just beat me into oblivion. :)
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Cat Butt.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, people. If you allow your cat to get up on your kitchen counter, they will inevitably sit on said counter. Am I the only one making the connection here? You now have cat butt on your kitchen counter. So later when you lay an apple on the counter while you get a paper towel, you now have...Cat Butt Apple. When you lay your hand on the counter, then reach for your sandwich...Cat Butt Sandwich. Unless you Clorox that son of a gun every half hour (because you don't know how often that cat puts his butt up there when you aren't looking!), you are eating cat butt. It's sick, sick, sick, and there is no reason a CAT should be allowed on the kitchen counter. Just my thoughts on the matter. Cat butt! Cat butt! Cat butt!! Blech!
Monday, May 17, 2010
OH for the love of PETE!!!
I'll tell you what my rants are going to be about! Getting this blog background up and running!! GOOD GRIEF, MAN!!! Finally figure one thing out only to realize I screwed the pooch on something else!!! And I now I have to move onto dinner, baths and other merriment. I shall return this evening w/ a glass of wine in hand. Lord only knows what effect that little element will have on my musings. Musings...musings...I just like to say musings...ok, word's lost all meaning. (what movie is that from?!)
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