So, my husband is one of those "suffer in silence" types. He often hurts himself whilst out doing his manly things in the woods, and I don't know that he has hurt himself until I find bloody Band-Aids in the garbage, notice he's missing a fingernail (ew!), or see him hobbling around more than usual. Maybe that's a good thing, because hey, no one likes a whiny bitch, now does one?
Nice, Bev. Nice.
That being said, two weeks ago the dude went skiing and fell down. Hard. Again, it's not unusual (Tom Jones - shout out!) for him to hobble a bit after a particularly grueling day on the slopes. He often takes a couple of days to walk normally and can be found on the couch, nursing a beer, elevating and icing his knee. Have I mentioned he's had two ACL repairs? No? Well, yeah, there's that.
So I didn't blink when he was looking even worse than usual last week, walking a little sideways and a lot stiffly. In fact, I am so unobservant that he managed to hide his GIGANTIC SWOLLEN AND PURPLE ASS BRUISE from me for almost 5 full days. When he finally showed it to me, I could not believe it. He has shelf-ass.
His hip is swollen out at least 8", it's rock hard, and is the most vile purplish-blackish-yellowish-greenish color you've ever seen.
< This is where I'd put the picture of it if my stupid camera hadn't stupid broken, and if he hadn't threatened me with the posting of some of our more unsightly photos of me from our collection if I dared take a photo of his swollen ass bruise. >
Now, 9 days later, the blood seems to be draining from said wound down his leg and pooling into his freakishly-deformed caveman foot. It's completely revolting, and I cannot believe he didn't go see a doctor. I mean, dude, your leg is the size of a Redwood and is turning nauseating colors. What would it take to make you go see an MD?
In related news, here's a tip for ya: don't Google Image "ass bruise." Seriously, don't.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Breaks, Broken, BROKE.
Stupid everything keeps stupid breaking!!!
*deep breath*
Ok, just a teensy little rant here. Do you ever just have a period of time when everything seems to break at once? Does it ever happen during a month when you're just behind everywhere and can't seem to catch your breath much less balance the dang checkbook? GAH!
On Whoopsie Wednesday, my drunk ass was nuking a plate of nachos (don't judge!) after The Hubster brought me home, when the microwave flashed brilliant white and then was silent. Never to nuke another nacho. No how.
This puts a cramp in my dinner-making style since I tend to microwave a bag o' Steam Fresh vegetables nearly every night, so since then I've had to *gasp* buy fresh vegetables and boil the damn things. That is just far too much effort for me, sadly. So, we need a new microwave.
Eight years ago, when we bought this house, the oven was on the list of "things to replace." Yeah, it's still here. It doesn't go over 400 degrees F. Well, you can set it to whatever you want, but be aware that if you set it even one itty bitty degree over 400, whatever you put in there will immediately be reduced to a charcoal briquette. Trust me. It took my husband several years of burning his frozen pizzas to take my word for it. And now, it's been getting worse; there's just no predicting when it will burn the crap out of your food. So, we need a new oven.
Last straw: I seem to go through digital cameras like they're the disposable cardboard kind. I mean, I try to treat them nicely; I keep them in a little padded camera bag and I don't let the kids play with them. Well, despite my best efforts, my beloved little Canon started acting weird a couple of weeks ago. I mean, I looked like crap in every shot, so it MUST be the camera, right? Heh. Right. Anyway, it really was taking blurry pics and it was pissing me off, so I got even with it by dropping it on my kitchen floor on Saturday while clowning around with Mala in a Merlot-induced photo sesh. So, we need a new camera.
I need to fall in a pile of cash, apparently, or else find a super duper Microwave/Range/Camera combo sale somewhere.
Farging icehole.
EDITED TO ADD:
Two more pieces of shite to add to the list: my double toaster - one side is kaput for no discernable reason. Great. More importantly and MOST ANNOYINGLY, my cell phone keeps turning off with no warning while I'm talking on it! WTF??! I give up!
*deep breath*
Ok, just a teensy little rant here. Do you ever just have a period of time when everything seems to break at once? Does it ever happen during a month when you're just behind everywhere and can't seem to catch your breath much less balance the dang checkbook? GAH!
On Whoopsie Wednesday, my drunk ass was nuking a plate of nachos (don't judge!) after The Hubster brought me home, when the microwave flashed brilliant white and then was silent. Never to nuke another nacho. No how.
This puts a cramp in my dinner-making style since I tend to microwave a bag o' Steam Fresh vegetables nearly every night, so since then I've had to *gasp* buy fresh vegetables and boil the damn things. That is just far too much effort for me, sadly. So, we need a new microwave.
Eight years ago, when we bought this house, the oven was on the list of "things to replace." Yeah, it's still here. It doesn't go over 400 degrees F. Well, you can set it to whatever you want, but be aware that if you set it even one itty bitty degree over 400, whatever you put in there will immediately be reduced to a charcoal briquette. Trust me. It took my husband several years of burning his frozen pizzas to take my word for it. And now, it's been getting worse; there's just no predicting when it will burn the crap out of your food. So, we need a new oven.
Last straw: I seem to go through digital cameras like they're the disposable cardboard kind. I mean, I try to treat them nicely; I keep them in a little padded camera bag and I don't let the kids play with them. Well, despite my best efforts, my beloved little Canon started acting weird a couple of weeks ago. I mean, I looked like crap in every shot, so it MUST be the camera, right? Heh. Right. Anyway, it really was taking blurry pics and it was pissing me off, so I got even with it by dropping it on my kitchen floor on Saturday while clowning around with Mala in a Merlot-induced photo sesh. So, we need a new camera.
I need to fall in a pile of cash, apparently, or else find a super duper Microwave/Range/Camera combo sale somewhere.
Farging icehole.
EDITED TO ADD:
Two more pieces of shite to add to the list: my double toaster - one side is kaput for no discernable reason. Great. More importantly and MOST ANNOYINGLY, my cell phone keeps turning off with no warning while I'm talking on it! WTF??! I give up!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Our day with Pigpen
So yesterday Mala and I took our two oldest kids to an event which featured all kinds of locally grown & made goods & services. It was fun, but as soon as we got there we both smelled something icky. It smelled, to be perfectly frank, like cow poop. We kind of laughed it off and said that there must be some product in the vacinity that smelled like manure, but the smell kept coming back no matter where we went. We were both sniffing ourselves and our respective children, but couldn't pinpoint the source.
It wasn't until it got so bad that I felt like I was standing next to an open portapotty on a hot summer day that I finally cornered my son and checked his underwear to see what was going ON down there.
It was totally him. Holy SKIDMARKS, Batman!
Ew. He must've been "sharting" all the livelong day. Then, on the way home, it got even worse and we were rolling down the windows to keep our eyes from watering. So we get home, and he takes a shower. Problem solved, right? Not really. I don't know what was going on with that boy because within half an hour he walked into the room and his little stink cloud followed him. Really nice ambiance for the dinner party we were having. (slapping forehead)
*sigh* Kids.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Mom jeans?
I've been on a new jeans kick lately. What can I say, the stores are moving denim out to make room for Spring stuff, and I've been finding some good sales. So, I've bought about 3 pairs over the last few weeks, and one pair is... well, questionable.
Don't get me wrong - I love them. I'm actually wearing them right now. But, they're kind of trouser-style, a little bit 70's, a little bit country, a little bit rock n' roll. Not really, but they are wide legged with those fake girly pockets in front. They meet my requirements: they make my ass look decent and don't cause muffin-top, they're dark wash and comfortable. BUT. I'm a little concerned that they're mom jeans.
You know the kind. High waisted. Small pockets. Tapered legs. :::shudder:::
"Give her something that says, 'I'm not a woman anymore. I'm a mom!'"
A friend of mine recently confided in me that she thinks ALL jeans look like mom jeans on us, simply because we're in our 30's and are, in fact, moms. I heartily disagree. I mean, really. I have LOVED my thirties so far; my twenties were great, and I can truly say I've enjoyed every decade of my life thus far, but so far the 30's are rockin' the hizzouse. I love my kids, my husband is still wicked fun to be with, and I've made some great friends. I'm still young(ish) and hip(ish), damn it!
So, you be the judge. Are these mom jeans?
Give it to me straight. I can take it! (I think. Sort of. Maybe. Ugh.)
Don't get me wrong - I love them. I'm actually wearing them right now. But, they're kind of trouser-style, a little bit 70's, a little bit country, a little bit rock n' roll. Not really, but they are wide legged with those fake girly pockets in front. They meet my requirements: they make my ass look decent and don't cause muffin-top, they're dark wash and comfortable. BUT. I'm a little concerned that they're mom jeans.
You know the kind. High waisted. Small pockets. Tapered legs. :::shudder:::
"Give her something that says, 'I'm not a woman anymore. I'm a mom!'"
A friend of mine recently confided in me that she thinks ALL jeans look like mom jeans on us, simply because we're in our 30's and are, in fact, moms. I heartily disagree. I mean, really. I have LOVED my thirties so far; my twenties were great, and I can truly say I've enjoyed every decade of my life thus far, but so far the 30's are rockin' the hizzouse. I love my kids, my husband is still wicked fun to be with, and I've made some great friends. I'm still young(ish) and hip(ish), damn it!
So, you be the judge. Are these mom jeans?
Give it to me straight. I can take it! (I think. Sort of. Maybe. Ugh.)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
"Do-over" Wednesday. AKA: Girl Crushes
Yesterday was "Do-over Wednesday." I went over to my friend's house and this time, we actually made it to the movie theatre (on time!) and saw Confessions of a Shopaholic before it leaves the cinema. It was cheese-tastic, and I loved it. Well, everything but the end, in which soaring music, wind in the heroine's hair, and every chick flick cliche in the book made their appearance to send it home. Just in case you forgot you were watching a fluff movie involving no real substance.
Anyway, I have a total girl crush on Isla Fisher. She's friggin' adorable. The red hair, the cute-as-a-button face, the quirky attitude. Love her!
Now, I'm a lover of men. Oh yeah, I love the menfolk. BUT, that doesn't mean I can't admire the beauty of a woman without wanting to, ya know, touch her & shit. There are a couple of actresses who fall into the girl crush category:
Isla.
Hey, she's married to Borat, so she's gotta have a sense of humor, right? Also, who could watch her in Wedding Crashers and not laugh their ass off? No one I want to know, surely.
Zooey Deschanel
I think she's hilarious & pretty in a very understated kind of way. Failure to Launch is not a great movie, for instance, but Zooey is terrific in it. Also, Winter Passing - great flick, and shows a more serious (but still funny) side of Will Ferrell. She's also marrying one of the dudes from Death Cab for Cutie, a band I enjoy. Bonus cool points, that.
Anna Faris
LOVE HER. She's pretty and funny, and stars in a ridiculous stoner movie that makes me laugh every time: Smiley Face. Also, Just Friends? She is insanely funny in it.
Ok, I'll stop now before you all start to tag me as a gigantic lesbian. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. :) I just like pretty chicks who make me laugh - is that so wrong?
Anyway, I have a total girl crush on Isla Fisher. She's friggin' adorable. The red hair, the cute-as-a-button face, the quirky attitude. Love her!
Now, I'm a lover of men. Oh yeah, I love the menfolk. BUT, that doesn't mean I can't admire the beauty of a woman without wanting to, ya know, touch her & shit. There are a couple of actresses who fall into the girl crush category:
Isla.
Hey, she's married to Borat, so she's gotta have a sense of humor, right? Also, who could watch her in Wedding Crashers and not laugh their ass off? No one I want to know, surely.
Zooey DeschanelI think she's hilarious & pretty in a very understated kind of way. Failure to Launch is not a great movie, for instance, but Zooey is terrific in it. Also, Winter Passing - great flick, and shows a more serious (but still funny) side of Will Ferrell. She's also marrying one of the dudes from Death Cab for Cutie, a band I enjoy. Bonus cool points, that.
Anna FarisLOVE HER. She's pretty and funny, and stars in a ridiculous stoner movie that makes me laugh every time: Smiley Face. Also, Just Friends? She is insanely funny in it.
Ok, I'll stop now before you all start to tag me as a gigantic lesbian. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. :) I just like pretty chicks who make me laugh - is that so wrong?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Did you know?
That if you're on Facebook and you Google yourself, bits of your profile show up on the search?
I have to laugh:
First of all, the random friends that show up are cracking me up. That first guy? The mayor of Manchester. Yep. We're like this. Secondly, every time you ever say you're a "fan" of something, it shows up. Therefore, let the Googling community know that I am Bev and I LIKE BACON. And vino, peace, and NPR. Yes, I'm a peaceful, wine-drinking, bacon-eating, radio-listening gal.
Not that it isn't true, but.... Whatever. Just thought it was kind of funny.
Incidentally, you only get this if you Google my maiden name. If you google my married name, the search is taken over by a romance novelist of the same name. Her books look quite raunchy! I think I need to pick one up ASAP. ;) Also, whenever I get around to finishing my own little masterpiece (which is collecting dust on my laptop right now), I'll need to publish using my maiden name, apparently. Because, you know, the publishers will be beating down my door.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
No mo' depressorama! Let's play a game.
There's been too much depressing crap happening in the world lately. I'm sorry if I've dwelled on it here; I'm one of those optimistic realist types who kind of hopes for the best and prepares for the worst, if you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down.
That being said, it's Friday, and I ain't got shit to do! So, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. You know I'm all about the pop culture references. You know this, maaan. Below are some of my favorite quotes from some of my favorite quotable movies. Care to take a stab at them? Comment... you know mama lika de comments!
(PS. NO GOOGLING!)
1. Well, everyone knows Custer died at Little Bighorn. What this book presupposes is... maybe he didn't.
2. Hey, man! There's a beverage here!
3. What are you, people? On dope?
4. Five dollars. Maybe I'll go to the movies... by myself.
5. My little brother got his arm stuck in the microwave. So my mom had to take him to the hospital. My grandma dropped acid this morning, and she freaked out. She hijacked a busload of penguins. So it's sort of a family crisis. Bye!
6. Shut the fuck up. And take off that vest. You look like Aladdin.
7. Well, you don't need a million dollars to do nothing, man. Take a look at my cousin: he's broke, don't do shit.
8. Oh, I like your outfit too, except when I dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated.
9. I've sentenced boys younger than you to the gas chamber. Didn't want to do it. I felt I owed it to them.
10. A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.
Extra Credit: Tell me what movie I referenced TWICE in the 2nd paragraph.
The winner gets: My undying admiration & respect, and a hearty handshake.
That being said, it's Friday, and I ain't got shit to do! So, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. You know I'm all about the pop culture references. You know this, maaan. Below are some of my favorite quotes from some of my favorite quotable movies. Care to take a stab at them? Comment... you know mama lika de comments!
(PS. NO GOOGLING!)
1. Well, everyone knows Custer died at Little Bighorn. What this book presupposes is... maybe he didn't.
2. Hey, man! There's a beverage here!
3. What are you, people? On dope?
4. Five dollars. Maybe I'll go to the movies... by myself.
5. My little brother got his arm stuck in the microwave. So my mom had to take him to the hospital. My grandma dropped acid this morning, and she freaked out. She hijacked a busload of penguins. So it's sort of a family crisis. Bye!
6. Shut the fuck up. And take off that vest. You look like Aladdin.
7. Well, you don't need a million dollars to do nothing, man. Take a look at my cousin: he's broke, don't do shit.
8. Oh, I like your outfit too, except when I dress up as a frigid bitch, I try not to look so constipated.
9. I've sentenced boys younger than you to the gas chamber. Didn't want to do it. I felt I owed it to them.
10. A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.
Extra Credit: Tell me what movie I referenced TWICE in the 2nd paragraph.
The winner gets: My undying admiration & respect, and a hearty handshake.
(what's so) Fabulous (about it) Friday!
Yesterday I poked through Macy's and was sorely disappointed by their Spring selection. Apparently I need to be wearing a lot of rayon and tie-dye this season, which I'm not really down with. Ok, so I love some subtle tie-dye; what can I say? I was one of those pseudo-hippie (read: I wasn't a real hippie because it was the late 90's and, well, I've always showered) chicks in college who smoked a lot of pot and wore peasant tops and cargo pants that were far too big for me. I've changed a lot. Well, that's my story & I'm stickin' with it. I still like peasant tops. And cargo pants. And... nevermind.
Anyway. I didn't find anything worth buying, but my friend found a nice top on the clearance rack, and when we got to the register, it had been marked down to $4.99. WTF? I never find deals like that! Never! Of course, this friend is one of these effortlessly awesome looking people who always looks put-together and stylish, whereas I'm walking around with baby snot on my shoulder and mismatched socks.
So, I don't have anything to share for Fabulous Friday, except that if you shop the racks at Macy's, you could get a top for next to nada. What can I say? I told you this would be a short-lived Friday thing!
Lame post. Sorry. I'll do better later, I promise. ;)
Anyway. I didn't find anything worth buying, but my friend found a nice top on the clearance rack, and when we got to the register, it had been marked down to $4.99. WTF? I never find deals like that! Never! Of course, this friend is one of these effortlessly awesome looking people who always looks put-together and stylish, whereas I'm walking around with baby snot on my shoulder and mismatched socks.
So, I don't have anything to share for Fabulous Friday, except that if you shop the racks at Macy's, you could get a top for next to nada. What can I say? I told you this would be a short-lived Friday thing!
Lame post. Sorry. I'll do better later, I promise. ;)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Makes you think.
This whole thing with Natasha Richardson dying has really bummed me out. I didn't know much about her before she died yesterday; all I really knew was that she was the guest judge in the red dress on last season's Top Chef, and that she was married to Liam Neeson and the daughter of Vanessa Redgrave.
It's not so much her, personally, it's just the fact that she took a seemingly harmless tumble and laughed it off, then ended up brain dead two days later. What the fucking fuck is that all about? I mean, really! How can you be walking around, talking and joking about your fall, and then just die?
Such sadness for her poor family. :(
It's the suddenness of it all that gets me in the gut. The fact that we all get up and go about our business, and anything could happen that day to cause us to just suddenly cease to exist without warning. Just, poof - The End.
Head stuff is so scary, anyway. A little over a year ago, my dad had brain surgery to remove a softball sized benign tumor from the lining of his brain. Thank God they got it all, it wasn't cancer, and removing it basically "fixed" him. Another head story - right after my youngest son was born, my husband's left eye started going all wonky. He couldn't control it anymore, couldn't focus, could barely drive. It was a terrifying time for us; me with my post-baby hormones raging, two little kids to care for, DH wondering if he'd be able to keep doing his job, and of course, Dr. Google telling us it was caused by a stroke, aneurysm, or tumor. Several thousand dollars and a referral to a neurologist told us that basically, something crazy had happened on the third nerve of DH's eye - tiny stroke? Or most likely, a result of a small knock on the temple that jarred something loose. The upswing was, it resolved on its own and now he's fine, but... scary.
Hell, my best friend had a massive stroke in her late 20's. Shit happens, man. I'm not being very eloquent here. I can't seem to wrap my head around how tenuous our grip on this life really is.
My DH is an expert skier, and also a huge proponant for helmets. My oldest son just started skiing this winter, and already has a spankin' new helmet. But, I can't say that this story doesn't scare the bejeebers out of me when I think of my loved ones out there on the mountain.
Protect your noggins. Hug your family. Be safe.
It's not so much her, personally, it's just the fact that she took a seemingly harmless tumble and laughed it off, then ended up brain dead two days later. What the fucking fuck is that all about? I mean, really! How can you be walking around, talking and joking about your fall, and then just die?
Such sadness for her poor family. :(
It's the suddenness of it all that gets me in the gut. The fact that we all get up and go about our business, and anything could happen that day to cause us to just suddenly cease to exist without warning. Just, poof - The End.
Head stuff is so scary, anyway. A little over a year ago, my dad had brain surgery to remove a softball sized benign tumor from the lining of his brain. Thank God they got it all, it wasn't cancer, and removing it basically "fixed" him. Another head story - right after my youngest son was born, my husband's left eye started going all wonky. He couldn't control it anymore, couldn't focus, could barely drive. It was a terrifying time for us; me with my post-baby hormones raging, two little kids to care for, DH wondering if he'd be able to keep doing his job, and of course, Dr. Google telling us it was caused by a stroke, aneurysm, or tumor. Several thousand dollars and a referral to a neurologist told us that basically, something crazy had happened on the third nerve of DH's eye - tiny stroke? Or most likely, a result of a small knock on the temple that jarred something loose. The upswing was, it resolved on its own and now he's fine, but... scary.
Hell, my best friend had a massive stroke in her late 20's. Shit happens, man. I'm not being very eloquent here. I can't seem to wrap my head around how tenuous our grip on this life really is.
My DH is an expert skier, and also a huge proponant for helmets. My oldest son just started skiing this winter, and already has a spankin' new helmet. But, I can't say that this story doesn't scare the bejeebers out of me when I think of my loved ones out there on the mountain.
Protect your noggins. Hug your family. Be safe.
Whoopsie Wednesday
AKA: My husband is the bomb diggity.
*Note: extremely embarrassing admission below. Don't judge me, beyotches!*
So, I have Wednesdays off. Lately I've been using this day to catch up with friends who also have the day off, or whose jobs are so flexible (read: self-employed) that they can sneak off to hang with the Bevster mid-week. Well, yesterday I was actually double-booked; I had plans to meet my friend Laurie for lunch and then we were going to go see Confessions of a Shopaholic (total chick fest, but we've both read the craptacular novel and like fancy brand names that we can't afford). I was planning to toddle on over to Sarah's place to chill with her and her little son for an hour or two after the movie.
Well, the best-laid plans, and all that.
Laurie and I went to a restaurant called La Carreta and ordered up a couple of big-ass frozen margaritas and some lunch. The food was good, the drink was good, and the conversation was SO good that we talked right through the movie. Oops! That was our first mistake, because then... well, we decided to have another drink.
Bad move.
I'm convinced that somebody slipped me a freakin' mickey or something, because I was floored. I've had two drinks at lunch before (shocking, I know) and never had such a crazy reaction. We went back to Laurie's place and were sitting on her couch when I suddenly got the spins and had to make myself acquainted with her bathroom tout de suite. Lovely tile in there, btw. Very intricate pattern. Aaaanywhooo.
From my little porceline coccoon, I hear my cell phone ring and recognize that it's DH's ringtone (Cake's "Love You Madly." Awwww). I hear Laurie talking to him, and I manage to croak out, "I need a riiiiiiide."
So, my Knight in Shining Honda showed up to drive my drunk ass home. I texted Sarah a few mea cuplas and then went to bed for several hours and slept off whatever evil tequila-based concoction was left in my system.
Later that night, we drove back to Laurie's house to retrieve my car. Through all of this, my darling husband was a complete gentleman. He doesn't judge, he doesn't tease, he's just completely as cool as Fonzie and twice as handsome. ;) Laurie was asking if he'd be pissed, and I was like, "Hell, no!" I'm so glad I was right.
Of course, I'm sure if I made a habit of getting trashed midweek (off of two motherhumping drinks, no less!), we'd have issues. But, I have no intention of hitting the hard stuff again for quite some time. Ugh. At least with wine, I know my limit. Long live the rule of 3!
So, there you have it. Feel free to laugh at me. I know that I am laughing at myself... through my tears of extreme embarrassment, that is. Eesh.
*Note: extremely embarrassing admission below. Don't judge me, beyotches!*
So, I have Wednesdays off. Lately I've been using this day to catch up with friends who also have the day off, or whose jobs are so flexible (read: self-employed) that they can sneak off to hang with the Bevster mid-week. Well, yesterday I was actually double-booked; I had plans to meet my friend Laurie for lunch and then we were going to go see Confessions of a Shopaholic (total chick fest, but we've both read the craptacular novel and like fancy brand names that we can't afford). I was planning to toddle on over to Sarah's place to chill with her and her little son for an hour or two after the movie.
Well, the best-laid plans, and all that.
Laurie and I went to a restaurant called La Carreta and ordered up a couple of big-ass frozen margaritas and some lunch. The food was good, the drink was good, and the conversation was SO good that we talked right through the movie. Oops! That was our first mistake, because then... well, we decided to have another drink.
Bad move.
I'm convinced that somebody slipped me a freakin' mickey or something, because I was floored. I've had two drinks at lunch before (shocking, I know) and never had such a crazy reaction. We went back to Laurie's place and were sitting on her couch when I suddenly got the spins and had to make myself acquainted with her bathroom tout de suite. Lovely tile in there, btw. Very intricate pattern. Aaaanywhooo.
From my little porceline coccoon, I hear my cell phone ring and recognize that it's DH's ringtone (Cake's "Love You Madly." Awwww). I hear Laurie talking to him, and I manage to croak out, "I need a riiiiiiide."
So, my Knight in Shining Honda showed up to drive my drunk ass home. I texted Sarah a few mea cuplas and then went to bed for several hours and slept off whatever evil tequila-based concoction was left in my system.
Later that night, we drove back to Laurie's house to retrieve my car. Through all of this, my darling husband was a complete gentleman. He doesn't judge, he doesn't tease, he's just completely as cool as Fonzie and twice as handsome. ;) Laurie was asking if he'd be pissed, and I was like, "Hell, no!" I'm so glad I was right.
Of course, I'm sure if I made a habit of getting trashed midweek (off of two motherhumping drinks, no less!), we'd have issues. But, I have no intention of hitting the hard stuff again for quite some time. Ugh. At least with wine, I know my limit. Long live the rule of 3!
So, there you have it. Feel free to laugh at me. I know that I am laughing at myself... through my tears of extreme embarrassment, that is. Eesh.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Well, I was gonna get all fancy pants
and change my blog template, but then everything got all effed up and I lost all my widgets & stuff, and I admit it, I panicked. So, now I'm back to the template I started with waaaay back in August, but I did change some colors & sizes to a more legible 12 point(ish) font, so I guess that's something.
Oh well. Maybe I'll get brave and gussy the place up later this week when I have another slow work day. :)
Oh well. Maybe I'll get brave and gussy the place up later this week when I have another slow work day. :)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dear Indian Guy in the office next to mine,
Your lunch stinks. Not just a little bit, but a really really lot.
Now, I like Indian food a bunch, but that... well, whatever that is doesn't even smell edible. It's so bad, that when you ate it on Friday I thought it was the smell of my boss burping up something disgusting, and Joe even came out and asked me what that smell was. Then, we sprayed room spray and laughed about how gross my boss was for burping up disgusting food in my presence.
Now, I feel badly for thinking it was him, because he's not here, but you are. And the stench keeps getting stronger and stronger. And I think I might die from the smell of it, so I can't imagine that it is doing your insides any good by ingesting it.
I only say this because I care. Well, I care about the fact that I'm breathing in something completely rank and vile, but still. This is me, caring.
oxoxo,
Bev
Now, I like Indian food a bunch, but that... well, whatever that is doesn't even smell edible. It's so bad, that when you ate it on Friday I thought it was the smell of my boss burping up something disgusting, and Joe even came out and asked me what that smell was. Then, we sprayed room spray and laughed about how gross my boss was for burping up disgusting food in my presence.
Now, I feel badly for thinking it was him, because he's not here, but you are. And the stench keeps getting stronger and stronger. And I think I might die from the smell of it, so I can't imagine that it is doing your insides any good by ingesting it.
I only say this because I care. Well, I care about the fact that I'm breathing in something completely rank and vile, but still. This is me, caring.
oxoxo,
Bev
Well, you've screwed me again, Costanza!
I sometimes have a little problem knowing when to say 'when'. Not with drinks so much now that I'm a mom who doesn't go out all that often, though I will occasionally willfully disregard my own rule of 3 when it comes to the wine. My rule of three is simple: 3 glasses of wine = awesome, 4 glasses of wine = horribly hung over. Words to live by, when you enjoy the red as much as yours truly.
Anyway, this weekend I went a little overboard with Rock Band 2. My family and I love playing that stupid game, and as with everything else we do for fun, we fully commit. Or should be committed, but whatever. Suffice to say that we find ourselves really belting shit out and rocking out. On Friday night I went out with my good buddy Mala, and while I was out BS and the hubster played a little two-some gig without me. Apparently they got into it (side note: Big Son's RB character is a scrawny punk guy with a huuuuuuuge red mohawk... and assless chaps.
Yes, my darling son designed it all himself), and DH was doing his best Roger Daltry moves by swinging the microphone around and catching it between verses. BSwas also doing his classic shirtless mic-swinging maneuver, too.
Suffice to say, they broke the mic. We went to play Saturday morning and found that it was crackling and then stopped working entirely. So, it was off to Best Buy for us, where I watched a teenage clerk do a worse internet search of their inventory than I had done on my own at home, before venturing off to their shelves to find the damn thing myself. I found a 2-pack of mics (for duets!) that fit the bill, and we went on our merry way.
We didn't get home till after 9, but we let the big guy stay up a little to try out the new mics. They're awesome! They're actually way better than the ones RB came with. You can hear the vocals much better and they do that cool amplifying trick when you hit the bonus sections. Wicked freakin' cool.
So cool that hubby and I ended up staying up till 1 AM playing the stupid game. I am a terrible singer - I always say that what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. But with the new mics, I didn't sound half bad! It's like Britney Spears voice modulation equipment in our living room! We unlocked some new tunes, so I was belting out Bob Dylan and Kansas for all I was worth.
SUPASTAR!
The next day, I was a little hoarse. No biggie; I tend to get hoarse after talking a lot or after a big night out. I should have just rested the ol' vocal chords, eh? This is where my little problem of knowing when to stop comes in.
We had some friends over. They had only played RB once before with some other friends who had made them feel like crap because they weren't good at it (nice). So, we put the game in "no fail" mode and taught them how to play, and we had such a great time that before I knew it I was singing again. A lot. I also ventured into drum territory for the first time, and I have to say, I wasn't half bad! What do you know? I've been so intimidated by the drums for so long that I was shocked to find I was scoring in the 90s on my first attempt (on easy mode, but still)! Also, I got a blister. "I've got blisters on my fingahs!"
The consequence: I have no voice today. At all. I open my mouth to speak and a squeek comes out. It's pathetic and annoying and I'm really embarrassed that I did this to myself, especially since I have to WORK today and guess what 80% of my job is? Yes, talking on the phone.
I guess CAJ is going to have to earn her paycheck today, because I've forwarded all my calls to her. Muuuaaahahahaha! My work story is "laryngitis." But you all know the truth; it's "Rockstaritis."
Anyway, this weekend I went a little overboard with Rock Band 2. My family and I love playing that stupid game, and as with everything else we do for fun, we fully commit. Or should be committed, but whatever. Suffice to say that we find ourselves really belting shit out and rocking out. On Friday night I went out with my good buddy Mala, and while I was out BS and the hubster played a little two-some gig without me. Apparently they got into it (side note: Big Son's RB character is a scrawny punk guy with a huuuuuuuge red mohawk... and assless chaps.
Yes, my darling son designed it all himself), and DH was doing his best Roger Daltry moves by swinging the microphone around and catching it between verses. BSwas also doing his classic shirtless mic-swinging maneuver, too.Suffice to say, they broke the mic. We went to play Saturday morning and found that it was crackling and then stopped working entirely. So, it was off to Best Buy for us, where I watched a teenage clerk do a worse internet search of their inventory than I had done on my own at home, before venturing off to their shelves to find the damn thing myself. I found a 2-pack of mics (for duets!) that fit the bill, and we went on our merry way.
We didn't get home till after 9, but we let the big guy stay up a little to try out the new mics. They're awesome! They're actually way better than the ones RB came with. You can hear the vocals much better and they do that cool amplifying trick when you hit the bonus sections. Wicked freakin' cool.
So cool that hubby and I ended up staying up till 1 AM playing the stupid game. I am a terrible singer - I always say that what I lack in skill, I make up for in enthusiasm. But with the new mics, I didn't sound half bad! It's like Britney Spears voice modulation equipment in our living room! We unlocked some new tunes, so I was belting out Bob Dylan and Kansas for all I was worth.
SUPASTAR!
The next day, I was a little hoarse. No biggie; I tend to get hoarse after talking a lot or after a big night out. I should have just rested the ol' vocal chords, eh? This is where my little problem of knowing when to stop comes in.
We had some friends over. They had only played RB once before with some other friends who had made them feel like crap because they weren't good at it (nice). So, we put the game in "no fail" mode and taught them how to play, and we had such a great time that before I knew it I was singing again. A lot. I also ventured into drum territory for the first time, and I have to say, I wasn't half bad! What do you know? I've been so intimidated by the drums for so long that I was shocked to find I was scoring in the 90s on my first attempt (on easy mode, but still)! Also, I got a blister. "I've got blisters on my fingahs!"
The consequence: I have no voice today. At all. I open my mouth to speak and a squeek comes out. It's pathetic and annoying and I'm really embarrassed that I did this to myself, especially since I have to WORK today and guess what 80% of my job is? Yes, talking on the phone.
I guess CAJ is going to have to earn her paycheck today, because I've forwarded all my calls to her. Muuuaaahahahaha! My work story is "laryngitis." But you all know the truth; it's "Rockstaritis."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
From the Vault
It's not that old, but it's a classic moment in Bevstory. Remember the time I was chased by The Terminator?
Ya know, once you get to know him, he's really not all that scary. He's kind of a dork, really.
Happy Sunday!
Ya know, once you get to know him, he's really not all that scary. He's kind of a dork, really.
Happy Sunday!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A Saturday programming note
Samsmama informed me that she was having trouble following the blog, so I've reluctantly added the box on the lower right to display my small but loyal fanbase. :) Although, I don't know why, but some of them aren't displaying? Malomatic, have you stopped following me? Was it something I said at dinner last night? Ha!
Anywhooooo, maybe now some of you awesome and intelligent readers (flattery will get you everywhere, eh?) will boost my ego by signing up to follow me so my little box doesn't look so sad & lonely. I know you're reading - I stalk you back with my tracking tools (heh heh, I said "tools"), so show me some LOVE!!!
Btw, due to the wackadoo Claymates, you have to sign in to leave me comments now. As you know, I LIVE for comments. It's sad, but true. So please don't be discouraged by not being able comment anonymously anymore, k?
Now that the business du jour has been taken care of, I'm going to go back to my Spring cleaning (this house was GROSS, y'all!) and watching my 5-year-old kick my ass on Rock Band guitar. The boy has serious skillz and is rapidly putting me to SHAME.
Have a good day! And don't forget to follow me! Wheeee!
Anywhooooo, maybe now some of you awesome and intelligent readers (flattery will get you everywhere, eh?) will boost my ego by signing up to follow me so my little box doesn't look so sad & lonely. I know you're reading - I stalk you back with my tracking tools (heh heh, I said "tools"), so show me some LOVE!!!
Btw, due to the wackadoo Claymates, you have to sign in to leave me comments now. As you know, I LIVE for comments. It's sad, but true. So please don't be discouraged by not being able comment anonymously anymore, k?
Now that the business du jour has been taken care of, I'm going to go back to my Spring cleaning (this house was GROSS, y'all!) and watching my 5-year-old kick my ass on Rock Band guitar. The boy has serious skillz and is rapidly putting me to SHAME.
Have a good day! And don't forget to follow me! Wheeee!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Friday Fun!
I just found this on another blogger's site and had to do it immediately. Make your own Superhero, people!
Here's mine:
Sweeeeet, right?
To give credit where it's due, the blog I found it on is here. I'm just starting to read it (thanks to LOTD's FOLOTD), but looks good so far!
Man, that was a lot of links. I'm tired now.
Here's mine:
Sweeeeet, right?
To give credit where it's due, the blog I found it on is here. I'm just starting to read it (thanks to LOTD's FOLOTD), but looks good so far!
Man, that was a lot of links. I'm tired now.
Fabulous Friday!
Ok, so I'm not that much of a girly-girl, but I do wear some make-up and occasionally even style my hair. I enjoy a good spa treatment, but it's not like I can afford (or have time) to be running to a salon every week. And don't even get me started on my wardrobe... let's just say that there are a few odds & ends in my closet that I've been wearing since...oh, 1994. At least. But, I try. I spend too much time and hard-earned money at Macy's. I cruise sales. What money I don't spend on booze and books rarely makes it to the mall, but I do my best to not look embarrassingly out of vogue.
Anyway, I discovered a little drug store gem that I have to tell you about, since I have dubbed today "Fabulous Friday." If I can, I'll do it every Friday, but since I rarely shop for new stuff, it will probably be a short-lived program. ;)
If you ever wear lipstick, you HAVE to try this:
Maybelline Superstay Lipcolor.
This is the SHIT. It goes on in liquid form & you're supposed to let it dry for 2 minutes, and then it has a gloss stick on the other end to make it shiney. It feels good on, and it lasts forever. I've eaten in it. I've drank (copious amounts) in it. I've slept in it.
I swear, one night I went out with the girls and wore this stuff, and I reapplied once between restaurant and bar just to brighten the color a bit. I partied it up that night, brushed my teeth when I got home, stumbled to bed, and when I woke up I was startled beyond belief to see that I was still wearing lipstick. It was quite a sight considering how crappy I felt!
Anyway, there you have it. You're $8 away from feeling just a little bit more fabulous. You're welcome. :)
Anyway, I discovered a little drug store gem that I have to tell you about, since I have dubbed today "Fabulous Friday." If I can, I'll do it every Friday, but since I rarely shop for new stuff, it will probably be a short-lived program. ;)
If you ever wear lipstick, you HAVE to try this:
Maybelline Superstay Lipcolor.
This is the SHIT. It goes on in liquid form & you're supposed to let it dry for 2 minutes, and then it has a gloss stick on the other end to make it shiney. It feels good on, and it lasts forever. I've eaten in it. I've drank (copious amounts) in it. I've slept in it.
I swear, one night I went out with the girls and wore this stuff, and I reapplied once between restaurant and bar just to brighten the color a bit. I partied it up that night, brushed my teeth when I got home, stumbled to bed, and when I woke up I was startled beyond belief to see that I was still wearing lipstick. It was quite a sight considering how crappy I felt!
Anyway, there you have it. You're $8 away from feeling just a little bit more fabulous. You're welcome. :)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Greeeeeat!
I got my very first anonymous hater comment today. Woo-freakin-hoo! I guess I have finally arrived as a blogger.
Apparently someone who wished to remain nameless read my comment about no-talent assclown Clay Aiken (a comment that I made here on my own personal blog containing nothing but my very own opinions and ideas, mind you) and decided that the reason I don't like Clay Aiken is because he's gay. Or, more specifically, that I think he shouldn't have any fans because he's gay.
(pardon me while I try to stop my eyes from compulsively rolling back in their sockets)
I think maybe someone missed my point; I don't hate him because he's gay, I hate him because I think his music sucks. Also, I think it's funny that some women slobber over him when he's clearly not interested.
But hey, it sure was nice of Anonymous to stop by to tell me I was "trying too hard to be cool." Awesome. Thanks for taking a couple of moments out of your busy day of yelling at waitresses, kicking puppies, and luring jailbait into your van to seek out the blog of someone you don't know and try to ruin their day! You obviously rock! Good luck being you!
On that note, my regulahs may notice that I have painstakingly gone through and deleted all of my family member's names. Sorry to make things more confusing for you, but obviously, the ol' blogaroonie has attracted a crazy or two. Well, crazies we don't know, that is. So, going forward, BS = Big Son, LS = Little Son, DH = Dear Husband, and all of my friend's kids will be referred to by their initials only. I've also changed my location to the more generic "New England."
*sigh*
Apparently someone who wished to remain nameless read my comment about no-talent assclown Clay Aiken (a comment that I made here on my own personal blog containing nothing but my very own opinions and ideas, mind you) and decided that the reason I don't like Clay Aiken is because he's gay. Or, more specifically, that I think he shouldn't have any fans because he's gay.
(pardon me while I try to stop my eyes from compulsively rolling back in their sockets)
I think maybe someone missed my point; I don't hate him because he's gay, I hate him because I think his music sucks. Also, I think it's funny that some women slobber over him when he's clearly not interested.
But hey, it sure was nice of Anonymous to stop by to tell me I was "trying too hard to be cool." Awesome. Thanks for taking a couple of moments out of your busy day of yelling at waitresses, kicking puppies, and luring jailbait into your van to seek out the blog of someone you don't know and try to ruin their day! You obviously rock! Good luck being you!
On that note, my regulahs may notice that I have painstakingly gone through and deleted all of my family member's names. Sorry to make things more confusing for you, but obviously, the ol' blogaroonie has attracted a crazy or two. Well, crazies we don't know, that is. So, going forward, BS = Big Son, LS = Little Son, DH = Dear Husband, and all of my friend's kids will be referred to by their initials only. I've also changed my location to the more generic "New England."
*sigh*
Thursday, March 12, 1992
Today I'm gonna tell you a story.
On this day in 1992, there was a blizzard in northern Vermont, where I lived. I was 16 years old. My mom was driving the two of us home from work/school in a powder blue Oldsmobile Cutless sedan that had belonged to my grandmother until she got too feeble(minded) to drive. It was very dark, and the dirt road we lived on was slick with over a foot of snow, but we made it to our driveway, which is where we ran into trouble.
The house we lived in was on top of a hill and had a very long, steep driveway that was over a mile long. The house was a brick cape with an addition and attached garage, and commanding views of the NH Presidential Range and Vermont's Green Mountains. A lovely spot, but a bitch to get to.
We had a difficult time getting the car up the driveway, and my mom gunned the engine perhaps a bit more than she should have. We finally struggled to the top amidst squeeling tires and the smell of burning rubber. She parked in the garage, and we went inside. I took off my shoes and coat.
About 10 minutes later, my mom decided to check on the car because "it just seemed too hot" from the climb up the driveway. When she opened the garage door, the entire car was engulfed in flames, and fire was licking at the ceiling and melting the freezer next to the car already. She panicked and ran for a fire extinguisher while I hit the fire department speed dial button. We had a couple of bad moments when she came and hit the button after I already had, and we had to hang up and try again, etc. Pandemoniam. Mayhem. Panic.
I threw on my dad's work boots as the living area closest to the garage was starting to fill with smoke. I herded the dogs outside and searched for our two cats, finding only one. Consumed with panic, I looked around the living room and tried to think of what I should grab, since it seemed apparent by then that the living room was toast. Instead of grabbing the irreplacable framed photos or the whole drawer of photo albums, I took:
a tube of lip balm
a pillow from the couch
the TV remote
another pair of my father's boots
Panic and fear do weird things to you, what can I say?
We fled to the horse barn, located about 100 yards from the house. The fire department came, but couldn't get their trucks up the driveway either. They sat at the bottom of the hill until another town came with a truck that had chains on the tires. Eventually, 7 different town fire departments would respond. The fire got so hot that the trucks ran out of water, and in northern VT there are no sisterns every mile or so like we have in suburbia. Several trucks left, seeking a frozen pond from which they hoped to refill their tanks. Many firefighters just wandered around the blazing structure, scratching their heads and frowning. The entire house was consumed with 2 hours.
I watched it burn from the cold horse barn, holding a franticly peeing cat while my dogs cowered at my feet. The worst part of the night came when I saw my father staggering through the snow towards the barn, openly weeping. My dad's a stoic guy and I had never seen him cry before, so this was a jarring sight. Apparently, no one had bothered to tell the man that my mom and I were not in the house. He came home from work to find the house on fire, firetrucks everywhere, the car in the garage, and us... nowhere.
Thankfully, someone managed to get ahold of my sister at work to tell her what had happened so she didn't have to have a similar moment of absolute soul-crushing sadness.
We spent the night at a neighbor's house. We woke up with just the clothes we had been wearing, no toothbrush, and reeking of smoke. I was still wearing my dad's size 12 work boots.
We lost every material posession we owned. I have no baby pictures of myself.
But, we rebuilt. We healed. We got new "stuff." We cherished each other more than ever, because we realized that people are the only things that can never be replaced. Everything else is gravy, but loved ones are important.
Today it's sunny and reasonably warm, no snow in the forecast, but I won't ever forget what surprises a day in March can hold.
On this day in 1992, there was a blizzard in northern Vermont, where I lived. I was 16 years old. My mom was driving the two of us home from work/school in a powder blue Oldsmobile Cutless sedan that had belonged to my grandmother until she got too feeble(minded) to drive. It was very dark, and the dirt road we lived on was slick with over a foot of snow, but we made it to our driveway, which is where we ran into trouble.
The house we lived in was on top of a hill and had a very long, steep driveway that was over a mile long. The house was a brick cape with an addition and attached garage, and commanding views of the NH Presidential Range and Vermont's Green Mountains. A lovely spot, but a bitch to get to.
We had a difficult time getting the car up the driveway, and my mom gunned the engine perhaps a bit more than she should have. We finally struggled to the top amidst squeeling tires and the smell of burning rubber. She parked in the garage, and we went inside. I took off my shoes and coat.
About 10 minutes later, my mom decided to check on the car because "it just seemed too hot" from the climb up the driveway. When she opened the garage door, the entire car was engulfed in flames, and fire was licking at the ceiling and melting the freezer next to the car already. She panicked and ran for a fire extinguisher while I hit the fire department speed dial button. We had a couple of bad moments when she came and hit the button after I already had, and we had to hang up and try again, etc. Pandemoniam. Mayhem. Panic.
I threw on my dad's work boots as the living area closest to the garage was starting to fill with smoke. I herded the dogs outside and searched for our two cats, finding only one. Consumed with panic, I looked around the living room and tried to think of what I should grab, since it seemed apparent by then that the living room was toast. Instead of grabbing the irreplacable framed photos or the whole drawer of photo albums, I took:
a tube of lip balm
a pillow from the couch
the TV remote
another pair of my father's boots
Panic and fear do weird things to you, what can I say?
We fled to the horse barn, located about 100 yards from the house. The fire department came, but couldn't get their trucks up the driveway either. They sat at the bottom of the hill until another town came with a truck that had chains on the tires. Eventually, 7 different town fire departments would respond. The fire got so hot that the trucks ran out of water, and in northern VT there are no sisterns every mile or so like we have in suburbia. Several trucks left, seeking a frozen pond from which they hoped to refill their tanks. Many firefighters just wandered around the blazing structure, scratching their heads and frowning. The entire house was consumed with 2 hours.
I watched it burn from the cold horse barn, holding a franticly peeing cat while my dogs cowered at my feet. The worst part of the night came when I saw my father staggering through the snow towards the barn, openly weeping. My dad's a stoic guy and I had never seen him cry before, so this was a jarring sight. Apparently, no one had bothered to tell the man that my mom and I were not in the house. He came home from work to find the house on fire, firetrucks everywhere, the car in the garage, and us... nowhere.
Thankfully, someone managed to get ahold of my sister at work to tell her what had happened so she didn't have to have a similar moment of absolute soul-crushing sadness.
We spent the night at a neighbor's house. We woke up with just the clothes we had been wearing, no toothbrush, and reeking of smoke. I was still wearing my dad's size 12 work boots.
We lost every material posession we owned. I have no baby pictures of myself.
But, we rebuilt. We healed. We got new "stuff." We cherished each other more than ever, because we realized that people are the only things that can never be replaced. Everything else is gravy, but loved ones are important.
Today it's sunny and reasonably warm, no snow in the forecast, but I won't ever forget what surprises a day in March can hold.
Musicians who inspire violence in an otherwise peace-loving chick
Disclaimer: This is today's controversial post, apparently. I had no idea I'd incur the wrath of a certain artist's cuh-razy fanbase when I sat down to put some snark out there into the world this AM. I've deleted the loser singer in question, so all you jerkuses who came here from whatever bizarro world in which you dwell, move along. I am not really a violent person - it was a joke. Don't be so freakin' literal. Also, get a life. If you don't like the opinions expressed in this blog, don't read it, and in return I promise I will never set foot on one of your blogs. Deal? Deal. Buh-bye now.
There are a couple of musical acts out there whose music I dislike so intensely that I have an almost violent reaction when I hear it. It's like Pavlov's dogs or something, I just can't get it off my stereo fast enough. Sometimes I even whine and bat at my ears, but that's neither here nor there.
Anyway, sorry to offend if these are your favorites or whatever, but music is subjective and all that so... well, deal. ;)
Here goes:
Coldplay
All of my other musical preferences would indicate that I'd like these dudes, but I just DO NOT. Maybe it's the smarmy, pompous band leader Chris Martin that does it, or the fact that I find their music to be overly-sentimental horseshit. Either one.
On a related note, I hate Gwyneth Paltrow despite her frequent affiliation with Wes Anderson's movies, which I adore. Self-important, overly-priviledged hag! Anyway, Coldplay sucks.
Nickelback
Can't STAND them. The voice, the cheese, the whole damn thing. Extreme HATE.
Mariah Carey
Yes, I know she's got pipes. I recongize her talent. She's got that whole other octive thing, yadda yadda yadda.... But she's trashy through and through, and seems to revel in the trashiness. And I don't like sap, a point which I think I've made abundantly clear, and this woman's forte is sap. Fail!
The Steve Miller Band
Ok, I think we all had their greatest hits cd at some point, right? And I can still tolerate "Fly Like an Eagle", 'cause it's all mellow and split, but if I have to hear "I'm a joker, and a smoker, and a midnight toker...." one more freakin' time I'm gonna explode! It's impossible not to sing along with that song, and I hate myself for it. BOO.
That's all I can think of right now, but there are more. I'll jot some down next time I'm listening to the radio. Now, let it be known that in general, I love music! I love all different KINDS of music. Hell, I've been known to rock out to both Oompa bands and bagpipers, so when I have such a visceral reaction to someone's music, it's kind of noteworthly. To me, at least. :)
There are a couple of musical acts out there whose music I dislike so intensely that I have an almost violent reaction when I hear it. It's like Pavlov's dogs or something, I just can't get it off my stereo fast enough. Sometimes I even whine and bat at my ears, but that's neither here nor there.
Anyway, sorry to offend if these are your favorites or whatever, but music is subjective and all that so... well, deal. ;)
Here goes:
Coldplay
All of my other musical preferences would indicate that I'd like these dudes, but I just DO NOT. Maybe it's the smarmy, pompous band leader Chris Martin that does it, or the fact that I find their music to be overly-sentimental horseshit. Either one.
On a related note, I hate Gwyneth Paltrow despite her frequent affiliation with Wes Anderson's movies, which I adore. Self-important, overly-priviledged hag! Anyway, Coldplay sucks.
Nickelback
Can't STAND them. The voice, the cheese, the whole damn thing. Extreme HATE.
Mariah Carey
Yes, I know she's got pipes. I recongize her talent. She's got that whole other octive thing, yadda yadda yadda.... But she's trashy through and through, and seems to revel in the trashiness. And I don't like sap, a point which I think I've made abundantly clear, and this woman's forte is sap. Fail!
The Steve Miller Band
Ok, I think we all had their greatest hits cd at some point, right? And I can still tolerate "Fly Like an Eagle", 'cause it's all mellow and split, but if I have to hear "I'm a joker, and a smoker, and a midnight toker...." one more freakin' time I'm gonna explode! It's impossible not to sing along with that song, and I hate myself for it. BOO.
That's all I can think of right now, but there are more. I'll jot some down next time I'm listening to the radio. Now, let it be known that in general, I love music! I love all different KINDS of music. Hell, I've been known to rock out to both Oompa bands and bagpipers, so when I have such a visceral reaction to someone's music, it's kind of noteworthly. To me, at least. :)
I call that a "Stink Grenade"
When you pull into the daycare parking lot and a suspicious odor wafts up to greet you from the backseat....
You have a choice:
Bring the kid in and be totally honest and confess that the kid has crapped his diaper, thereby risking good-natured teasing from the staff as they urge you to change said stinky diaper yourself, which will make you late for work. Again.
OR
Pretend your sense of smell has gone wonky and you don't notice the open sewer scent radiating from your second-born. Kiss him goodbye and wave cheerily as you leave.
Guess which one I chose.
Heh.
You have a choice:
Bring the kid in and be totally honest and confess that the kid has crapped his diaper, thereby risking good-natured teasing from the staff as they urge you to change said stinky diaper yourself, which will make you late for work. Again.
OR
Pretend your sense of smell has gone wonky and you don't notice the open sewer scent radiating from your second-born. Kiss him goodbye and wave cheerily as you leave.
Guess which one I chose.
Heh.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Hallelujah!
*** Cue angelic chorus ***
LS slept solidly from 7:30 PM till 7:15 AM last night! This is a first; he typically wakes up at least once and we have to go in to soothe him and give him his (blasted) binkie. We had a particularly bad stretch there last week when he wanted to get up at 4:30 AM, and we had company so we had to do it or else he'd wake the whole house up.
So Sunday night, he woke up at 12:30 and 5:15 AM, and we took the tough road and just went in to soothe him briefly and offer him a sip of water, but otherwise let him cry. His big brother was a sport and slept through it all with a pillow over his head. He finally got the hint and went back to sleep until 7 AM, and then last night, no wake ups, just solid sleep all night till 7:15!!!
I'm not counting any chickens. I know this will likely be short-lived, since he's been a ridiculously early riser for all of his 18-month life thus far. BUT, I can't help but get my hopes up just a teensy bit at the prospect of 8 hrs. of uninterupted sleep on a nightly basis. Of not sitting downstairs like a zombie at 5 AM anymore....
The bad news is that I'll have to start using my alarm clock again. :( Boooo. I just need more than 40 minutes to get shit done! Today I managed to get all three of us up, dressed, fed, lunches made, and into the car in 40 minutes. Of course, I didn't have time to shower, my shoes don't match my pants, and I'm sporting some oh-so-chic ponytail action, but whatev. I got to sleep all night!!!!
LS slept solidly from 7:30 PM till 7:15 AM last night! This is a first; he typically wakes up at least once and we have to go in to soothe him and give him his (blasted) binkie. We had a particularly bad stretch there last week when he wanted to get up at 4:30 AM, and we had company so we had to do it or else he'd wake the whole house up.
So Sunday night, he woke up at 12:30 and 5:15 AM, and we took the tough road and just went in to soothe him briefly and offer him a sip of water, but otherwise let him cry. His big brother was a sport and slept through it all with a pillow over his head. He finally got the hint and went back to sleep until 7 AM, and then last night, no wake ups, just solid sleep all night till 7:15!!!
I'm not counting any chickens. I know this will likely be short-lived, since he's been a ridiculously early riser for all of his 18-month life thus far. BUT, I can't help but get my hopes up just a teensy bit at the prospect of 8 hrs. of uninterupted sleep on a nightly basis. Of not sitting downstairs like a zombie at 5 AM anymore....
The bad news is that I'll have to start using my alarm clock again. :( Boooo. I just need more than 40 minutes to get shit done! Today I managed to get all three of us up, dressed, fed, lunches made, and into the car in 40 minutes. Of course, I didn't have time to shower, my shoes don't match my pants, and I'm sporting some oh-so-chic ponytail action, but whatev. I got to sleep all night!!!!
My kid doesn't know correct anatomical terms, part deux
Last night the fam and I were eating dinner at the table, chatting about our days. BS started telling me a story about some king of the mountain-type game he'd been playing at recess that day, and without batting an eye he announced that "Johnny kicked me right in the nuts!"
I almost choked on my steak, and was trying desperately not to laugh (thereby encouraging the use of this term in future conversations, don'tcha know), but my dear husband didn't even crack a smile. Whaaaa--? Is that the preferred nomenclature for that area of the male body? Do they learn that term in utero?
So, I relented and taught Danny a new word: "groin."
But somehow, I doubt it'll stick.
I almost choked on my steak, and was trying desperately not to laugh (thereby encouraging the use of this term in future conversations, don'tcha know), but my dear husband didn't even crack a smile. Whaaaa--? Is that the preferred nomenclature for that area of the male body? Do they learn that term in utero?
So, I relented and taught Danny a new word: "groin."
But somehow, I doubt it'll stick.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Bored outta my gourd
Yes, I am.
I guess that busy stretch at work was short-lived. I am even done with all of the tedious crap that I routinely put off doing until the last possible moment....
And soon CAJ will leave for the day and Boss will likely come out to occupy her vacant seat. He just loves sitting 4 ft. away from me when I have NOTHING to do and can't even pretend to look busy. Sigh. I think he just gets lonely back in his spacious, empty office. Poor thing.
Aaaaanywho, I need to find something to occupy my time. I've already mapped out my vacation time for the rest of the year, balanced my checkbook (broke as a joke), and counted yesterday's and today's calories on Calorie-counter.com (stubborn fricking body still won't lose an ounce even at 1400 calories/day and -400 burned at the gym! W...T...F?!).
I'm stalking my email inbox and have read every gossip blog I dare look at while at the office. Which reminds me - why do most of my favorite celeb gossip sites have that effing Sugar DVD ad with the two skank whores looking at each other lustfully?? It grosses me out and I'm SO SICK of looking at it. It's bad enough that I can't even visit Perez Hilton due to his excessive doodles of penises and jizz and stars wetting their pants in little trickling streams. Dude needs to step away from Microsoft Paint if he expects me to bring that site up at work. It's a shame, too, because he's always quick with the RPattz pics, and you know mama like those. ;)
Well, that wasted a good solid 5 minutes of time. What can I do next...? Hmmm....
I guess that busy stretch at work was short-lived. I am even done with all of the tedious crap that I routinely put off doing until the last possible moment....
And soon CAJ will leave for the day and Boss will likely come out to occupy her vacant seat. He just loves sitting 4 ft. away from me when I have NOTHING to do and can't even pretend to look busy. Sigh. I think he just gets lonely back in his spacious, empty office. Poor thing.
Aaaaanywho, I need to find something to occupy my time. I've already mapped out my vacation time for the rest of the year, balanced my checkbook (broke as a joke), and counted yesterday's and today's calories on Calorie-counter.com (stubborn fricking body still won't lose an ounce even at 1400 calories/day and -400 burned at the gym! W...T...F?!).
I'm stalking my email inbox and have read every gossip blog I dare look at while at the office. Which reminds me - why do most of my favorite celeb gossip sites have that effing Sugar DVD ad with the two skank whores looking at each other lustfully?? It grosses me out and I'm SO SICK of looking at it. It's bad enough that I can't even visit Perez Hilton due to his excessive doodles of penises and jizz and stars wetting their pants in little trickling streams. Dude needs to step away from Microsoft Paint if he expects me to bring that site up at work. It's a shame, too, because he's always quick with the RPattz pics, and you know mama like those. ;)
Well, that wasted a good solid 5 minutes of time. What can I do next...? Hmmm....
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Interview with Big Son
Stolen from Samsmama's blog & as seen everywhere on Facebook, here's an interview with my (obnoxious and keyed up) 5-year-old, who really ought to be in bed right now:
1. What is something mom always says to you?
"Get your shoes on, buddy."
Ever the task master, that's me.
2. What makes mom happy?
"When I eat my vegetables."
Yup.
3. What makes mom sad?
"Not listening."
Right again!
4. How does your mom make you laugh?
"Tickling me, being silly."
5. What did your mom like to do when she was a child?
"I don't know!"
Me either.
6. How old is your mom?
"D'oh! Uhhh, 100?"
Sometimes I feel that way son, sometimes I do.
7. How tall is your mom?
"200."
I don't think you understand the question....
8. What is her favorite thing to do?
"Eat on the toilet."
Now, that's just gross, and entirely untrue! Ew!
9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
"Go on the laptop with LS."
Erm, okay.
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
"Being with no shirt on."
Great. My kid has a wonderful opinion of his dear ol' ma.
11. What is your mom really good at?
"Playing Scrabble."
It's true.
12. What is your mom not very good at?
"Operation."
Again, true. The board game freaks me out and gives me high blood pressure with all the sudden noises, and I've never attempted a real operation. That I know of.
13. What does your mom do for her job?
"Making big giant O's."
What? O-face? What??!
14. What is your mom's favorite food?
"Wine."
Eesh. Sad, but true. In all fairness, I was drinking a glass of wine while asking him these questions, and Danny's a very "in the moment" kind of kid. That's my story & I'm stickin' with it!
15. What makes you proud of your mom?
"Going to the bathroom."
Er, thanks, Danny. I guess.... It is a talent of mine.
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
"Jimmy Neutron."
Random. It must be the hair.
17. What do you and your mom do together?
"We play games."
18. How are you and your mom the same?
"With loving."
awwwwww
19. How are you and your mom different?
"You're tall and I'm short."
20. How do you know your mom loves you?
"She buys me special desserts."
Food = love. Of course.
21. What does your mom like most about your dad?
"I have no idea."
Heh.
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
"Shopping."
Sort of true.
1. What is something mom always says to you?
"Get your shoes on, buddy."
Ever the task master, that's me.
2. What makes mom happy?
"When I eat my vegetables."
Yup.
3. What makes mom sad?
"Not listening."
Right again!
4. How does your mom make you laugh?
"Tickling me, being silly."
5. What did your mom like to do when she was a child?
"I don't know!"
Me either.
6. How old is your mom?
"D'oh! Uhhh, 100?"
Sometimes I feel that way son, sometimes I do.
7. How tall is your mom?
"200."
I don't think you understand the question....
8. What is her favorite thing to do?
"Eat on the toilet."
Now, that's just gross, and entirely untrue! Ew!
9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
"Go on the laptop with LS."
Erm, okay.
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
"Being with no shirt on."
Great. My kid has a wonderful opinion of his dear ol' ma.
11. What is your mom really good at?
"Playing Scrabble."
It's true.
12. What is your mom not very good at?
"Operation."
Again, true. The board game freaks me out and gives me high blood pressure with all the sudden noises, and I've never attempted a real operation. That I know of.
13. What does your mom do for her job?
"Making big giant O's."
What? O-face? What??!
14. What is your mom's favorite food?
"Wine."
Eesh. Sad, but true. In all fairness, I was drinking a glass of wine while asking him these questions, and Danny's a very "in the moment" kind of kid. That's my story & I'm stickin' with it!
15. What makes you proud of your mom?
"Going to the bathroom."
Er, thanks, Danny. I guess.... It is a talent of mine.
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
"Jimmy Neutron."
Random. It must be the hair.
17. What do you and your mom do together?
"We play games."
18. How are you and your mom the same?
"With loving."
awwwwww
19. How are you and your mom different?
"You're tall and I'm short."
20. How do you know your mom loves you?
"She buys me special desserts."
Food = love. Of course.
21. What does your mom like most about your dad?
"I have no idea."
Heh.
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
"Shopping."
Sort of true.
Kids say the darndest things.
Today BS's teacher pulled me aside to tell me about a funny thing he had said yesterday in class. They're working on the letter "V", and the teacher asked them to come up with words that started with V. She asked him directly, and he hesitated and thought for a second, then said... wait for it....
VUCK.
My kid? Really?
The teacher laughed it off because she said a lot of kids just make up words like that when put on the spot, but I was a bit embarrassed. I swear, despite my proclivity for colorful language here and elsewhere, I don't drop the F bomb around my kids and neither does DH! Apparently, when the teacher pressed him as for meaning and how he'd use it in a sentence, he was at a loss. No idea.
Also, a couple of weeks ago he came home telling me that *kid who will remain nameless* at school had been put in time out for saying the F word. And then he added, "Oh, and mom, what is the F word?" LMAO!
Ack.
VUCK.
My kid? Really?
The teacher laughed it off because she said a lot of kids just make up words like that when put on the spot, but I was a bit embarrassed. I swear, despite my proclivity for colorful language here and elsewhere, I don't drop the F bomb around my kids and neither does DH! Apparently, when the teacher pressed him as for meaning and how he'd use it in a sentence, he was at a loss. No idea.
Also, a couple of weeks ago he came home telling me that *kid who will remain nameless* at school had been put in time out for saying the F word. And then he added, "Oh, and mom, what is the F word?" LMAO!
Ack.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Waaaassssssaaaaaabiiiiii!
So it was 5:45 PM today and I just left the gym, and I was wandering around the grocery store foraging for dinner to feed my grouchy kidlets when I suddenly realized that all I'd had to eat all day was a reduced fat string cheese and a 200 calorie Lean Cuisine. No wonder I felt like I was gonna pass out in the deli section, yo.
So I get myself a little snack for the ride home. I've sworn off chips of all kind (yes, again), so I picked up some California rolls.
I had 2 or 3 of them while driving home. I was spreading the ginger and wasabi at stop lights and enjoying them quite thoroughly, praising myself for my virtue by eating crab meat, avacado, and rice instead of fat-laden Lays. Those of you who don't live nearby are probably thanking your lucky stars that you don't have to drive around near douchebags like myself who prepare savory snacks while maneuvering a gigantic minivan, right? And those of you who live near me, you have been warned. Muuaahaaahaaa!
Anywho, I had forgotten about wasabi, and how potent it can be. Don't get me wrong - I love me some spicy food. I'm typically not happy until my eyes are watering and I'm gasping for water (I have underlying masochistic tendencies, but who doesn't?), but in this case I might've gone overboard. I must have spread just a touch too much wasabi on one of my rolls because all of the sudden I was sputtering and flailing. I almost had to pull over! It was like deathly burning fire in my throat, man!
But that didn't stop me from having another.
If you're waiting for me to get to the point, keep waitin'. I am only telling you this so you can picture me eating sushi while operating a motor vehicle. Enjoy the visual. Savor it.
That, and I love spicy California rolls. That shit is delicious.
So I get myself a little snack for the ride home. I've sworn off chips of all kind (yes, again), so I picked up some California rolls.
I had 2 or 3 of them while driving home. I was spreading the ginger and wasabi at stop lights and enjoying them quite thoroughly, praising myself for my virtue by eating crab meat, avacado, and rice instead of fat-laden Lays. Those of you who don't live nearby are probably thanking your lucky stars that you don't have to drive around near douchebags like myself who prepare savory snacks while maneuvering a gigantic minivan, right? And those of you who live near me, you have been warned. Muuaahaaahaaa!
Anywho, I had forgotten about wasabi, and how potent it can be. Don't get me wrong - I love me some spicy food. I'm typically not happy until my eyes are watering and I'm gasping for water (I have underlying masochistic tendencies, but who doesn't?), but in this case I might've gone overboard. I must have spread just a touch too much wasabi on one of my rolls because all of the sudden I was sputtering and flailing. I almost had to pull over! It was like deathly burning fire in my throat, man!
But that didn't stop me from having another.
If you're waiting for me to get to the point, keep waitin'. I am only telling you this so you can picture me eating sushi while operating a motor vehicle. Enjoy the visual. Savor it.
That, and I love spicy California rolls. That shit is delicious.
Oh, and by the way,
The people at Spanx are lie-tellers.
After wriggling into the scuba suit I ordered from them in an effort to NOT look like I never exercise, I was sorely disappointed to discover that instead of sucking in the flab, it simply made it smoother.
I've bought control garments that redistributed the fat so you have unholy bulges and rolls in places that God never intended women to have bulges and rolls, but this was not the same. $82 later and I looked like a much tauter chubby chick instead of Cindy Crawford circa 1985, as I had hoped.
Mothereffers forced me back to the gym, which is where I'm heading right now. Bastards.
After wriggling into the scuba suit I ordered from them in an effort to NOT look like I never exercise, I was sorely disappointed to discover that instead of sucking in the flab, it simply made it smoother.
I've bought control garments that redistributed the fat so you have unholy bulges and rolls in places that God never intended women to have bulges and rolls, but this was not the same. $82 later and I looked like a much tauter chubby chick instead of Cindy Crawford circa 1985, as I had hoped.
Mothereffers forced me back to the gym, which is where I'm heading right now. Bastards.
How am I like George Costanza?
Let me count the ways....
And no, I'm not proud of this resemblance. I just thank God that it's nothing physical.
1. I have taken a nap under my desk at work. Yeah. Again, not proud.
2. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
3. I often cheap out and buy the low-budg version of whatever I need. Though, thankfully, I have not caused the death of a loved one by doing so... yet.
4. I come up with great come-backs well after I need them. Jerk Store!
5. My parents are clearly insane.
6. I declare every summer "The Summer of Bev."
7. I once bought mens' eyeglasses, except I did it on purpose.
8. I think that pastrami is the most sensual of all the smoked, cured meats, too. ;)
9. I have sung a message for my answering machine, but nothing as cool as George's "Greatest American Hero," sadly.
10. I've hidden clothes at stores with the intention of coming back for them later. (ala "my fellow 40-short!")
I'll stop now before I relieve myself of whatever dignity I have left. Besides, I'm not feeling overly articulate right now.
*snort* "Articulate!"
And no, I'm not proud of this resemblance. I just thank God that it's nothing physical.
1. I have taken a nap under my desk at work. Yeah. Again, not proud.
2. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
3. I often cheap out and buy the low-budg version of whatever I need. Though, thankfully, I have not caused the death of a loved one by doing so... yet.
4. I come up with great come-backs well after I need them. Jerk Store!
5. My parents are clearly insane.
6. I declare every summer "The Summer of Bev."
7. I once bought mens' eyeglasses, except I did it on purpose.
8. I think that pastrami is the most sensual of all the smoked, cured meats, too. ;)
9. I have sung a message for my answering machine, but nothing as cool as George's "Greatest American Hero," sadly.
10. I've hidden clothes at stores with the intention of coming back for them later. (ala "my fellow 40-short!")
I'll stop now before I relieve myself of whatever dignity I have left. Besides, I'm not feeling overly articulate right now.
*snort* "Articulate!"
Monday, March 2, 2009
Sometimes,
late at night, I find myself watching bull riding on TV. I don't know why it's so fascinating to me. I have never actually been to a rodeo, but there's just something fun about watching wirey young men with names like "Kody" and "Skeeter" tying their hands onto a bull saddle and getting flung around like rag dolls for as long as they can stand it. I love how these modern cowboys take off their cowboy hats in favor of hockey goalie style headgear and body pads; it's about time they got wise and dressed appropriately for their sport, after all! Not that a little bit of padding would save them from getting trampled by a couple thousand pounds of pure aggression, but it can't hurt.
I've always had a thing for cowboys. In college, I read a book of short stories called Cowboys Are My Weakness by Pam Huston. Her writing style is like Hemmingway for girls, and her narrators are tough and reckless and athletic, three things that I am not. In her stories, the cowboys in question are self-absorbed, withholding assholes, and her women, while outwardly tough, are incapable of distinguishing between the half-hearted pseudo-love men offer her and real human connections.
I've always wondered what real cowboys are like. Something tells me I wouldn't like them, as a whole. I'm picturing Skoal and stubble and being called "little lady." But I'm a northerner, born & bred, so I really have no idea. Maybe that's why they're so intriguing to me.
I've always had a thing for cowboys. In college, I read a book of short stories called Cowboys Are My Weakness by Pam Huston. Her writing style is like Hemmingway for girls, and her narrators are tough and reckless and athletic, three things that I am not. In her stories, the cowboys in question are self-absorbed, withholding assholes, and her women, while outwardly tough, are incapable of distinguishing between the half-hearted pseudo-love men offer her and real human connections.
I've always wondered what real cowboys are like. Something tells me I wouldn't like them, as a whole. I'm picturing Skoal and stubble and being called "little lady." But I'm a northerner, born & bred, so I really have no idea. Maybe that's why they're so intriguing to me.
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