Dear Ann Landers...

Or Dear Abby...
Or Dear Ramblers....

Take your pick, either way, I have had a plea from one of our avid readers for a post about the high price of gas.

Not gasoline, mind you. GAS. As in bodily functions. As in the SBD, Panty Burps, Trouser Coughs, Anal Audio...you all get the picture. It can cost you a lot, if you're dating someone new. So from this blogger, who shall remain nameless...I bring you this email excerpt...

First and foremost, everyone knows that men have more gas than women. Check that, everyone knows that men do not treat their gas the same way women do. Quantity is not an issue here. You women have the ability to pass gas without a sole hearing it. I mean, the hearing test lady can’t even hear it with all of her equipment. But I digress. My question is, does a woman with whom you are in the beginning stages of a relationship (one month) expect us men not to let a single squeak out for “x” number of days since the inception of the relationship, or am I making more out of this than I should. To be clear, I’m not talking about the basketball court clearing, eye watering, dog running off kind of fart. I’m talking about your average fart that may have a slight stink but doesn’t last very long and usually has a bigger bark (if you will) than bite. I am not talking about farts that I would plant on my brothers’, sisters’, nephews’, nieces’, friends’ or even a few coworkers’ heads that could potentially cause blindness and loss of taste for a week. Furthermore, I’m not talking about beer farts or something that may sound wet. These little buddies are in a class all by themselves… (I guess I’m a connoisseur.)

So I'm asking you - the men and women of my blogosphere to weigh in on the dating/farting allowance period.

Auntie Em, Auntie Em, it's a twister, it's a twister!

What do you make of this?
Well, I can make a hat, or I can make a broach, or I can make a pterodactyl...

And yet another movie surfaces that should be on the must-see list. But I digress...

I seriously thought something baaaaaad was happening at 3:30 this morning. There I am, minding my own business, but doing something I shouldn't be doing. Sleeping in my contacts. (What were you thinking?) I was tired...it happens...father forgive me! But no! I was also sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. The Kev-head and I do this occasionally...change things up...we're craaaaazy! So anyway, at 3:30...BOOM! CRASH! BOOM! Breaking glass! Me screaming! And jumping on Kevin! And not in that good way he might actually like at 3:30 am. In a bad way that says "I'm about to piss myself!" And he's screaming what? WHAT? And I scream "You didn't hear that?! There's breaking glass over there! Did the window just shatter?!" And he says "I have earplugs in" And the wind is howling and the lightning is crashing, and the power is out - BRILLIANT - so we're racing around trying to figure out what glass is breaking and I'm wondering if a damn tornado is coming and we can't find any god &*#! freaking matches to light the candles!

Alas, the boom-crash knocked a picture of my boys off a shelf which came crashing down on the bedside table, shattering the glass. The windows are fine. We still didn't have power until almost 7am - yes, I look AWESOME today, thanks - but all is well. Except for that picture frame. Which is, of course, broken.

Julie got drenched on her way to work and is pissing and moaning about how long it takes denim to dry. Ummmmm, yeah, the chaffing is wonderful! Poor Julie! She was thinking about going to Fields and picking up some new pants...I fully support this. Tina! Get some new pants!

Doctor update...
"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do"
The short story is that he told me I have inflammation. Seriously? Really doc? Inflammation. NO SHIT? So it's back to the sado-masochistic torture lair, oka, physical therapy...this time with traction. I have no idea what this means, but it can't be good. So you all should be THRILLED because this means many more moments of pain and hilarity for the blog...because it really is all.about.YOU. And another MRI - because really...can you have too much magnetic imaging? The more time I get to spend in those crisp hospital gowns the better, folks! And last but not least, a new anti-inflammatory...because I'm inflamed, people! What's even BETTER is the actual diagnosis on these orders...because you can't order shit without a diagnosis, right?

I have...wait for it...RADICULITIS. Yes, that's right...basically my doctor is now telling me I'm ridiculous, which again...already knew. FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

What it actually means is: Inflammation of the intradural portion of a spinal nerve root prior to its entrance into the intervertebral foramen.

I hope that's clear for everyone. uhhhhhhhh.....yeah.

Gel's pizza was rockin' good and the Janet also picked up some garlic knotz from the Greek's which is just heaven in bread form with garlic butter. mmmmmmm, garlic butter.

More later, loveys...

I love it when ya call me Big Poppa...

It's the Harry's birthday today! Hurrah! Happy Birthday, Dad - not that he reads this blog...but at least I know I put it out there in the blogosphere. We're going over there for Gel's pizza after work. It's one of my favoritest pizzas ever. With a nice big salad and some breadsticks...I'll be looking forward to this all day. mmmmmmmm pizza...

So raise a glass, a cup of coffee, a breakfast shake or an egg mcmuffin in the general direction of Jackson Twp. this morning and wish my dad a happy birthday. Between my sister and I, we should have put him into massive coronary by now, but he's still kickin', still has his own hair and none of it's gray, despite the opinions of people back east who insist he's wearing a rug.

Doctor for me today - I'm underwhelmed. I would like to think I'm going to go there and he's going to look at all these films and say "Mrs. Crum...my heavens...you clearly have a distorted schmokken-flokken...we need to do x, y and z right away and you will never have shoulder pain again."

HA! Yeah right.

I'm already prepped for him to see nothing, know nothing and provide me no answers or solutions. I guess I just have to hope that whatever pharmaceutical rep brought him donuts this morning also brought some samples of some miracle drug. Wouldn't that be nice?

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

No, that's not a headline about the Jimmer's love-life...it's the name of a movie, sillies. Haven't heard of it? Yeah, neither had I. Bumptious blogged about it awhile back, and then the lovely Laura recommended it, so I decided I should give it a try. I LOVED this film! Val Kilmer and Robert Downey, Jr. and some girl who I called a poor man's Ellen Pompeo, but Kev-head insists this girl was MUCH better looking. I didn't see it. I think this is the first film I've really loved RDjr in since "Chances Are" and a quick lookup on imdb tells me that was from '89, kids. And he sings the song as the credits roll, which I also loved but the Kev-head replied "anyone can sing with the right amount of production" and proceeded to try and serenade me. But he had no producer and the raw format was not pretty. I love my man, but singing is not one of his attributes. It's one of the reasons I dated him in the first place. I think we're all aware of my sordid past with musicians - ahem...not pretty. Sooooo, I married a man who couldn't carry a tune if I put a handle on it and away we go.

I'm adding this film to my "must see" list...it was that good. I want to buy it and watch it over and over again to pick up the one-liners...there were quite a few. Even Kev-head belly laughed a couple of times.

So what else is on my must see list? In no particular order...
1. Ferris
2. The Negotiator
3. The Usual Suspects
4. Reservoir Dogs
5. Clerks (my aunt and uncle watched this on my recommendation and hated it, but oh well, I still LOVE it)
5a. Change number 5 to all Kevin Smith films including Chasing Amy, Mall Rats, etc. The man is a genius.
6. The Sting (I LOVE Robert Redford, what can I say?)
7. Stealing Home
8. Practical Magic
9. Blazing Saddles
10. The Shining
11. Fight Club
12. Animal House
13. Stripes
14. Caddyshack
15. The Commitments
16. The Full Monty
17. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
18. Almost Famous
19. 40 year old Virgin
20. The Shawshank Redemption

I am quite certain there are more. What are your "must-sees"? Movies that when people say they haven't seen it you actually do a double-take.

What in the *&^$@! am I doing wrong???

So this weekend was a series of ups and downs.

First - Owen's team won their game on Friday night - it was beautiful. Couldn't believe it. They looked awesome doing it which was the best part. Great fielding, great pitching (Owen didn't pitch, he played first). We were all so proud.

But then Saturday game. Any of you sit out in the heat at noon watching a baseball game? No? I didn't think so...ya wanna know why? Because it's ASININE, that's why. They didn't lose horribly - it was 8-2. Owen pitched the last half, but by that time he was baked. And not in that good, college "dude you are soooooo baaaaaaked" kind of way. It was that "dude you are playing baseball in polyester pants and dark blue t-shirt in 110 degrees" kind of way that makes your brain fry. Literally.

We had a two hour break between games, Owen cooled off, seemed much better and off to game two. He sat in the shade, kept drinking fluids...really took it easy pre-game. But then, it all went badly. Pitched 9 runs in the 1st inning...ouch...and hit a single in the top of the 2nd. When he came off the field he was bawling and holding his head. We cooled him down but it wasn't enough. He couldn't go back into the heat without his head pounding. When the nausea set in we were off to the ER.

We started with him tossing his cookies in the reception area. Nice.
We ended with he and his friend Luke cutting it up in the ER. Between Luke and Owen and Kevin, we were cracking up. Yes, we're following up with our normal doc. And his allergist. Yes I'm a whack job for getting out my camera in the emergency room. Hey, it was all a part of the tournament experience.I did everything I was supposed to do. I subjected Shay to the same liquid regimen as Owen since he was staying with us. He ran off the field in the middle of the first game because he had to pee so bad. Didn't even stop at the dugout first...just ran straight to the bathroom. Whoops. Coach Kevin yelled at him until he realized I was the one that made him drink so much. Whoops again.

So now I have to find out if his allergy meds make him more susceptible to heat. Or if it's just him. And what I can do to make sure I don't have to worry about this again...because he kind of freaked me out when he said "my brain feels like it's not connected and rattling in my head."

Ummm, yeah, we're going to the ER.

*Blogger isn't letting me upload my photos right now. Keep checking back...they'll be here...

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...

No baseball last night in the downpour. Owen was well-rested and pumped up, too. So we have to play tonight instead. And this was my night OFF, people!

And if you think I'm crabby now, just wait until tomorrow after I sit there with frizzy hair, swoobs and a sunburn at high noon with 100% humidity on a 95 degree day. And we have a DOUBLEHEADER. Seriously. I love my kids but this is ridiculous. Maybe I'll have to put some sort of adult cocktail in a squeezy bottle like back in my college days.

Happy Friday!

Owen is a rockstar...

He was AWESOME last night. Struck out 10 batters...gave up 2 or 3 hits, walked a couple...finally ended up hitting a batter in the 4th inning. His arm had had enough. Comes off the field after the game POUTING...wanna know why? Because he struck out...twice. OMG - you're kidding me, right? You're going to be upset with your game because you didn't hit, even though going into the fourth inning there was no score and you had struck out 9 people??? I was a mess for those 4 innings. We lost to Lowell 4-0. The boys did awesome for their first game ever trying to hit off of a pitcher, their first game ever together as a team, their first game under the lights (game ended around 10pm)...We had the bases loaded at one point in the 5th, but we couldn't make it happen. I'm totally jacked to see what they do today.

Today he's with the Janet who is pumping him with fluids and taking him to the movies. Good ole' grandma.

Alex's ear is feeling better but his jaw still hurts. Weird, eh? I guess swimmer's ear can affect your lymph nodes, so that's probably what's happening. But he says he feels better which is good.

I have a follow-up appt with my ortho! Hurrah! And get this...THEY called ME! Mrs. Johnson or whatever-her-name-is called me to schedule my appt. But now that makes me worry...does she know something I don't? Did some radiologist see something evil on my MRI and now they NEED to see me? Did my bloodwork come back bad? Yeah, you're right, it's nothing...she just finally returned my 52 calls. So I go next Wednesday equipped with x-rays and MRI films (which are totally bad ass to look at, btw). With my medical degree from Google University I have already diagnosed myself, of course, as having severe decubitus degenerative degrading ecchymosis ectopic dystrophy.

Okay, so I know what all of that means...and that none of it really makes any sense. I really just looked up some fancy words in the medical dictionary and smushed them all together. I didn't get past the E's because it was exhausting. I think that makes me even MORE like a real doctor! They do that shit all the time!
"Ummm, yes, Mrs. Smith, your x-ray is showing a shmokken-flokken in the cortex of your such-and-such"
"Oh my gosh! doctor, is it serious???"
"Not if you fill this prescription of meds from the pharmaceutical company whose rep just dropped off a dozen donuts and four tickets to a skybox for the Sox home opener - you'll be FINE"

Friggin' seriously.

Gametime tonight 6pm.

The sisters and my shoulder seem fine in my fabulous new bra purchase, so maybe it was just coincidence? Who knows. We'll see how the rest of the day goes.

Giving it the old college try...

Unable to grasp the concept that I may have just spent $85 on two bras that are essentially torture devices, I'm trying again. Today I am wearing one of the new, fabulous potentially pain causing bras. Because, hey - I'm all about the research, man. Let's test the theory and see what happens tomorrow. I'm doing it all for you guys. Well, that and to further my studies into my Google medical degree. Because I have one you know. I can diagnose ANYONE in three clicks. I'm brilliant. BRILLIANT I say. Just look at the certificate on my wall. That's it...I'm getting a stethoscope and a lab coat so people will take me more seriouser.

In other news that doesn't involve my boobs - is anyone watching Rockstar?? Seriously, it's a trainwreck. I think Tommy Lee hired a writer for his one-liner comments...He's saying things like "You're raising the bar, and I'm pulling up a barstool"...that is craptastic right there, I don't care who ya'are.

Owen is playing on the Roselawn all-star team for a tournament in Cedar Lake. And get this. The boy is PITCHING, yo! I'm ready to go into cardiac arrest over this. There's so much pressure! To be the pitcher! When it's your first year! And you can tell how frantic I am by the number of exclamation points I'm using! I'm on FIRE over here with worry! One of the other moms promised to bring me a paper bag to breathe into. I wish I had a working video camera. I think I do. But I don't want to add to the pressure!

Jen suggested I slam a shot before the game. Yeah, um, THERE'S good advice. Because that's a pretty picture...me, screaming and cheering and reeking of tequila at the little league all-star tournament. YEAH baby! Exxcshuse me, Mr. ooooompire...i think that waszh a shtrike. Toss in a muscle relaxer and I'm SET! Game time tonight - 8pm. Tomorrow 6pm. Owen can pitch a max of 4 innings each game. That's a lot of balls, loveys!

Alex is down for the count in Anderson with swimmer's ear. Seriously down. Like sleeping 12 hours and taking tylenol with codeine to manage the pain. That's the same water that leveled our dear sweet Julia Goolia for an entire day of fabulous beach vacay. Gotta love Lake Michigan. And to think, we all just ate perch Kevin pulled out of that very lake just a week before. Maybe that's why I've been stricken with a lower GI thing. Lake Michigan is slowly killing us all. Damn e coli.

Think good thoughts for my boys - they could both use it.

Let's get down to boobness...

Seriously, I don't mean to keep harping on this, but the sisters are now officially a problem.

So I did go to the store and buy new bras. 34DD it is. Fine. I'm slowly coming to terms with it. It's worse than turning 30. THAT I knew was coming. It was inevitable. This? This is just ridiculous. I'm not sure what's going on with my hormones, but apparently I'm pumping enough estrogen to turn the whole middle east crisis into one big cry fest. Ya hear that, Condie? You don't need international troops, just let me ooze my hormones over there for awhile, everything will be just fine...just keep the wine and cheese flowing, me and the sisters will get that all worked out.

Here's the problem. Remember when I was seeing the pinko-fascist physical therapists who tortured me like a Hillary Rodham Clinton fundraiser speech? ("It's the American Dream, stupid." Is she SERIOUS? Shut up Hillary, you embarrass my party) Well, these new bras of mine? Same effect. Pain. Sure everything was sitting pretty and the sisters felt great about themselves (and looked good, too), but the end result was me in tears on my fabulous beach vacay unable to consume exorbitant amounts of alcohol and crying for my muscle relaxers (read "mommy's little helper.") It was bad. I was a mess. I couldn't figure out what I had done to cause myself so much pain all of a sudden. I was good - I didn't lift too much when we packed/unpacked. I didn't drive to Michigan. I wasn't on my computer. I wasn't doing anything I wasn't supposed to. And BAM! No feeling in my fingers on my left side. Just burning achy inflammation. It was the bras. Two days of wearing them and I was a disaster. Julie performed some drunken voodoo stuff later in the evening when I wasn't so cinched up. Yeah, that's right. Me on the floor and Julie twisting and pulling and it was hilarious because I was laying on a rug on a hardwood floor and the rug kept moving and we kept laughing...She was amazed and concerned at my inflammation. I share this concern. I'm still trying to get in with my ortho which more and more I realize will probably be a big gigantic waste of my time.

So how do we feel about acupuncture, kids? Because I think that's where I'm going next. Michelle suggested a sports medicine doctor. Anyone know one? No, no one has mentioned a reduction in the sisters. No one has mentioned the amount of time I drive or spend in front of a computer. No one has mentioned anything that could potentially be an irritant for me to avoid (besides my husband...as the irritant that is, and HE'S the only one mentioning THAT). So essentially lifting the sisters put some sort of pressure on my shoulder that wasn't good. What does THAT mean?

"Sometimes it's hard to be...a woman..."

Home is where the beach isn't...

I hate to admit it...but it's true. Fabulous beach vacation is over. I could cry...seriously, I think I might. It was ab fab. Better than ab fab. The whole communal living thing really works for me. Cooking with friends, chatting on the porch, never drinking alone...ooh, wait, was that out loud?

The champion of our vacation? The Janet. Yes, it's true...Julie and Michelle and I are there for DAYS busting hump, trading off days cooking dinners, making sandwiches and satisfying everyone's culinary needs. Except for one.small.detail. DESSERT! You should have seen the looks on our faces when Owen pops his head up after dinner on night number one and says "That was great, what's for dessert?" ummm...cricket....cricket....cookies? Fruit snacks? yogurt bars? animal crackers? He looked at me like I had snakes coming out of my head. Well, the Janet wanted to contribute, so she brought pies on Saturday. And not just any pies. Homemade fresh picked cherries from National Cherry Festival pie and a pumpkin pie. And the Janet makes the best crust in the known universe. We demolished the pies after our afternoon at the beach right BEFORE dinner. That's how bad it was. Everyone was jonesing so bad for dessert that once they saw it, they couldn't wait until after a meal. We were like vultures over roadkill. Two pies gone in a matter of minutes. I guess that's something to make note of for next year. Whoops.

A good time was had by all. Except for, apparently, the Jimmer, who is pouty because no one picked up on his boob conversation while I gone.

Projects every night, lots of mementos...I hope Michelle and Julie got better pictures than I did. While I was there I kept thinking I was getting great pictures, but now, I don't feel like I did. Oh well...upload those photos girls!

80% of women are wearing the wrong bra...

80. percent. That's a big number sweeties. And I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm part of this statistic. While doing laundry last night in preparation for fantastic beach holiday, I was watching the 11:00 Oprah. This may have been a repeat, or maybe she was just having another one of these types of shows, because I know she's done this before. The British 'what-not-to-wear' ladies wander around malls generally insulting women they don't know and whisk them away to remake them. How does one GET a job like this? I can make fun of people's boobs, large hips, flabby asses and general lack of style. Hell, that's one lap around the mall for me! Not that I go to the mall. I don't. Shut up.

Anyway, this one woman was wearing a 36C and busting over the top of it, which I am currently doing in my 36D. I've been complaining about my 4 boobs for awhile now. The sisters are just plain out of control. My hormones are going nuts...that and I'm gaining weight, which I always seem to do in my chest, conveniently enough for my husband, but not so convenient for ME. Actually, he's more of an ass man than a boob man, but that's beside the point. My ass is also succumbing to gravity, but the only remedy for that is exercise and well...that just doesn't appeal to me right now. Check back with me next week after I've spent several days on the beach looking at younger girls with all their perky shit. My ass will be in tae-bo, pilates and yoga for hours trying to fix this flab. But for now I'm dreaming about all of the yummy food and wine I'm going to be consuming on this vacay. Where the hell was I? What the shit was I talking about? Geez...rambling girl today...

Oh yeah, my boobs...yeah, they're big. Anyway, this girl was wearing a 36 C - after being fitted by some chick who knows WAY too much about bras and boobs and feels people up for a living put her in...get this... a 34 G. Ahem. WHAT? G. Great. This does not bode well for me. Now I'm deathly afraid of finding out what I am supposed to be wearing. I think I should come down a back size, to a 34, but if you do that, you're automatically supposed to go UP a CUP size. So that automatically puts me in 34DD territory. Lovely. So now I'm contemplating going after work and getting a new bra in my new size, just to see what happens. The whole reason this is even remotely important to me right now is because I have to do something even MORE horrible than find someone to fit me for a stupid bra.

I have to buy a new bathing suit. Tonight. For amazing beach vacay. And I'm tortured. And I have to go BY MYSELF - which we all know is a huge no-no of shopping. It's like the exact opposite of going to the grocery store hungry. When you do that you buy too much food. When you go shopping by yourself you either buy a) nothing b) something for your kids/husband/pets c) something from the sale rack that you justify because it was 'so cheap' but you'll never wear d) shit that looks bad on you that you'll never wear. Huh? You don't do that? It's just me? Really? Oh...huh.

So I'll let you know tomorrow how it goes. Think good thoughts for me and the sisters. We need all the help we can get.

Hotter than Hades...

I like how in the west, it just says "baking" - and this is accuweather talking!!!

Holy crap was it HOT this weekend...I mean Africa hot...sweating in your ass crack, swoobs HOT! And I usually don't sweat, ask Julie, she thinks I'm a freak of nature.

Great weekend! Great visits with my girls...

Friday night found me at a jewelry party with my FORMER fellow employees - Tigger and the Pea - it was so great to see them and chat and have cocktails. Oh, and there was jewelry. And I'm having a party in August. And you all have to come. So there.

Saturday night was birthday dinner with my girls - July is for Julie and Jennifer. Dinner on the porch at Popalano's. Which didn't seem like a completely horrible idea at the time, despite the heat. Mostly we were fine, but Julie ordered friggin' red wine and THEN complains about how she's sweating to death. Ummm, YEAH...red's gonna do that to ya sistah! Kathy, believe it or not had never been to Chesterton before. Seriously? Seriously! So we left the restaurant and hoofed it down to see Julie's work of art in Thomas Centennial Park.



To continue Kathy's tour of Chesterton...we went to Flannery's. And surprisingly enough Jimmer wasn't there. HA! He was on a date...go Jimmer!

And there we are, in all our sweaty hot as hades glory...
We retired to Julie's house to chat it up...until 12:30 am...GOOD TIMES!

Love my girls...Jen's b-day is at the end of the month, so think good thoughts for my girl.

I leave you with this:
Tina, you fat lard, come eat your dinner...

People just may surprise you...

I got an apology today. AN APOLOGY. From a woman here in the office who didn't talk to me for a YEAR awhile back because she didn't like something I did, or the way I responded to her request for assistance. Didn't speak to me, didn't look at me...nothing. After awhile, we got back into our groove and things have been fine. Until yesterday.

You see...I'm still not used to my new position. You know, being the head of my department. Of one. Of myself. My department is very demanding. They don't have time for me to sit here and blog, but yet, here I am, day after day...true to my commitment to you guys. I hope you appreciate this as my boss breathes down my neck asking me if the vectors have been aligned and the sockets sealed and if the unidirectional connections are flowing in the connection direction. Very serious stuff here...and my boss, well she is a bitch. And today she has a headache, so I'm sure I'm going to get an earful later for wasting this precious 5 minutes.

Enough of that insanity...I'm not used to being in charge of stuff. So I have to do these server updates, right? Because the jackasses out there in the internet universe splooge into sweatsocks every night just dreaming of more ways to stick it to Bill Gates by screwing with windows. I'm sure Bill is losing sleep over it you pansy ass paste eating anti-social hacker parasites. Anyway, I leave on my brilliant beach vacation next week, so I have to get these updates done. I suck it up and realize I have to come in early this morning and update the servers. Because windows updates don't always go well. There's always the potential that you're going to actually kill your system by doing these updates, so I need these updates in place for a few days before I leave.

So I talk to two of the supervisors about their morning routine, check with my senior programmer...everything seems kosher...until I send the email to the rest of the supervisors and hit the door. Whoops. Apparently one of the supervisors, the one who didn't talk to me for a year, had her peeps coming in early this morning because of something big happening next week. Whoops. And she freaked. So I get a call from calm supervisor on my cell not to do the updates. Fine. Whatever. I call freaking-out supervisor and tell her I'll come back at night to do them, last night, while Alex was in guitar and drum lessons. Now this, my friends is a sacrifice. Alex music lesson time = Rebecca wine/martini time...so I had to give THAT up last night and come here. It's HARD to be the boss of me, I tell ya, because I am a slave-driver!

Now when I called FOS to tell her that I was rescheduling, she wasn't exactly nice to me, but she wasn't exactly rude either, what she was was short. I let it go.

But this morning...she apologized. That doesn't happen around here. Really, it doesn't. I told her I didn't think she was rude to me last night on the phone, but if she's apologizing for stuff she said about me behind my back while I wasn't here, then I accept. She laughed, all is well. But boy...I shouldn't have done that. I have to make it a habit to check with everyone before I decide to do this stuff, not just the couple I THINK are affected. Because I'm pretty sure we've all learned from previous stories in this blog, thinking is not exactly my strong suit.

So my boss and I decided that I should run everything past her before I make decisions. And send emails to all supervisors before making decisions. We're smaller now...must keep the peace.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE!!!!!!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JULIE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Raise your glasses, coffee mugs, bottles of water ... whatever ya got...raise them towards the city of Chicago this morning and wish my brown-eyed girl Julie a Happy 35th Birthday! She's a part of the next checkbox section, ladies and gentlemen...

So here's a good one for ya...
Remember when my husband hollered at me...well, maybe not hollered...admonished me for my foul mouth on my blog? Well he and his cronies were sitting at some after work bar and got kicked out because they were overusing the F-bomb! hahahahahahaha Suck it Kev-head - I told you you have a worse mouth than I do. And I told him I would blog about this, but I'm sure he won't read it. He gave up on me. Whatever.

More about camp...
I have one thing that really creeps me out. Teeth. Not just any teeth. Loose teeth. Like the kind that kids wiggle and wiggle and wiggle and push in and out and back and forth and ewwwwwwwwwww. I.cannot.handle.it. Both of my kids were told they couldn't wiggle in front of me. I guess that's good advice for life, eh? Anyway...I cannot handle loose teeth. I don't want to see them sticking out at some abnormal angle, I don't want to see how far to the right, left, front or back you can push them. That is daddy business. Now once it's out? I'm all over the cleaning of the tooth and the salt rinse and making sure you're okay. But the wiggling...take it outside.

So this boy, Nick, had a loose tooth. Well once he discovered that this was my weakness, he took every opportunity he could to wiggle that thing in front of me. And that, folks, is what camp is all about. Ew.

What ooks you out?
Mine are loose teeth and insects with too many legs. Because they're fast...

What are YOU watching?

So we don't really watch much television in the summertime - because it's nice out, and we're busy. BUT - the summer TV schedule has gotten MUCH more interesting and now I find myself abusing my DVR even moreso than before! What is going on???

Completely addicted to "America's Got Talent" - but they're KILLING me with a 2 hour ep tonight. Who has time for this? Of course if it's raining, like it was last night...then I can catch up on all my backlog of DVR'd items. Last night I caught up on "The Closer" - with Kyra Sedgewick...have you seen this? LOVE her...you'll never say 'thenk yew' the same way again. BRILLIANT. And now USA network has resurrected my beloved Dule Hill of West Wing fame on a show called "Psych" that just started last Friday. It's good, too. Throw in "Rockstar" and "So you think you can dance" and my little DVR is humming every night of the week. Now the question is, when the hell am I going to catch up on all this??

My body still thinks I'm at camp. I never eat breakfast...unless I'm at camp...and then BRING IT! Because I'm always starving at camp. Must be all that crazy physical activity...because heaven knows I'm a sloth during the average workweek camped out at my desk. Not exactly burning off the ole calories or boosting my metabolism, I can tell you that. But right now, at 10:10 am, I am eating my lunch. Because I'm starving. STARVING I say. Diet coke? check. Salad with ranch dressing? check. Crackers? check.

Now what am I going to eat in an hour or so when my body thinks it's lunchtime?

Cub Scouts RAWK!!!

What a BLAST cub scout camp was! I love camp! I love it like I would marry it!

Tie-dying shirts and camp songs and canoeing and leather crafts (not like that you pervs!) and swimming and archery and BB guns...skit nights and more songs and kids running around everywhere shooting the staff and parents with water guns. BRILLIANT!

So this very awkward thing happened, and I want to talk to you about it. I told Kathy yesterday, and she thinks I might be overreacting a little bit, and I'll tell you about that afterwards. But I'm offended, and a little upset, so I'm paying my 5 cents to Lucy (you guys) and getting my dose of psychiatry for the day.

People say not nice things to me all of the time. Like rude things. Like things they wouldn't say to anyone else because it would be inappropriate. I see it here all the time. I'm digging for an example but not coming up with anything. But trust me, the shit people say to me, most people would find offensive. Most of it I brush off. And maybe that's the problem. Kathy is always amazed at my restraint when someone says something pretty awful, and I just let it go. They would NEVER say anything like that to Kathy, but to me, it's game on. Whatever, I must put out some vibe that let's people think I'm unoffendable, like that justifies it.

ANYWAY, I digress.

So at camp, I'm in my element. I love the staff, they love me. Kevin doesn't come to camp because he says he'll "cramp my style" - when really we all know it's because people are sleeping in tents and they snore...and well, Kevin could wake up from the sound of the shuttle in space firing it's engines, so sleeping in a camp full of snoring tent-sleeping people just really doesn't work for him.

George, the park ranger and I, go back a few years to my camping days with Alex. It's comfortable there, and George and I joke around a lot, as I do with most of the staff and the kids and well, generally everyone. As you can all imagine, I have friends before other people have their tents up. I quickly volunteered to emcee the scouters campfire on Saturday night, and that had me off and running collecting names of people and their skits, planning adult skits, making signs. We were doing our own version of "America's Got Talent" called "Scouts Got Talent" - I had judges, including one cubmaster who pretended to be Brandy and got a TON of laughs.

There's a new staffer this year, a guy named Pat running the BB Gun range. He's old school military and George introduced me to him on Friday night at dinner. George and I were cutting up and Pat announced "I like this girl George, she gives you a run for your money." Great, that sounds nice, right? Doesn't that sound nice?

The next day, Saturday, my boys are on the BB Gun range and doing really well. I was following them around taking pictures and talking with some parents who were shooting. Pat sidles up next to us and says to the dads I was talking to "Does she participate in anything or just watch?" I'm first offended by this, but he says it with a laugh, so I dismiss it. Rob immediately defends me "No, she just runs everything" - thanks Rob - I say "I'm too busy taking pictures, this is more about the boys. I did participate in swimming and canoeing though!" And Pat says "Now she's probably going to get mad at me for saying this, but she participates in swimming so she can show off that she's a girl."

WHAT?!

You are fucking kidding me, right? You did NOT just say that to me. How degrading can you get? I have been a devoted scouter for 6 years, the only mom from my fucking pack that will actually go to camp and take as many boys as I can with me so they can understand what scouting is all about, and you are going to reduce me to some chick who wants to show off her figure (WHAT figure?) in a bathing suit?? I have shot more arrows, more BB's, worked on leather projects, nature projects, hiked with the best of them. I was livid. Seething. It's a wonder I didn't slap him. How DARE he?

I calmly replied "And here I thought I got in the pool because it's 90 degrees out here and we'd just finished our nature hike" and I walked away.

THIS, this is what I'm talking about. The shit people will say to me and laugh it off like it's no big deal. But then my brain starts working overtime. Is this what other people think? Other moms were in the pool, too, not just me. My bathing suit is completely appropriate! It comes up to my neck, and it's fully lined and it has padding. I water tested it to make sure it wasn't see-through in the least. The legs aren't cut high, the front isn't cut low. It's seriously the most unattractive, unflattering bathing suit I could have purchased. It's one step shy of being a full wet suit. I bought this damn thing specifically so people WOULDN'T and COULDN'T say this very thing about me!! Damn you, Pat!!!

Kathy says that Pat wasn't saying it to offend me, he was saying it to purge it out of his system. That apparently he must have liked the way I looked or something, so if he said something awful then I wouldn't go near him anymore. Or something like that, it made sense when she said it yesterday.

I still think he's a chauvinist ASS.

All's well that ends well...

How is everyone? Have a good 4th of July weekend? Did you have to work on Monday? I did, and it was lame. Seriously. What is wrong with people? What was so friggin' pressing that we had to come in? Lemme tell ya, nothing. Not a damn thing. I wish employers would realize that the way to make your employees happy is to give them a little something every now and again. Like Julie's company, extra days here and there, outings...these actually can and do make a difference in your workplace. What do I know? Kathy typically says screw all of that and give it to me in my paycheck. But she's antisocial...except with me...so I don't know what kind of gauge she is. And I'm uber-social...so what kind of gauge am I??

I was overserved on Monday night, I do know that. And two hours is too long to spend in a hot tub. And how is it humanly possible that I was not heaving yesterday? Is it because I just drank so long? I can't remember the last time I got home at 5am. Good times! Love my girls!

So I was funny in the hot tub. Amy was hollering at Ryan, her daughter, for trying to poison her. Out of context I guess that sounds sorta bad...but really not so much. I am a wine snob. Not in the sense that I only buy expensive bottles. Snobby in the sense that those sweet sissy girl wines are completely off my radar. They just are. They're not enjoyable. They're horrid. And trust me, you paid way too much for something that crappy. Amy was drinking one of these wines from the Oliver winery...a southern Indiana winery. ummmm. yeah. I know there's more than corn in Indiana, but I'm not sure they should be making wine. It's not good. Anderson really isn't good either. I just don't think Indiana has the right soil for this, kids. Amy had handed Ryan her glass of wine to hold. Ryan was floating the glass in the hot tub and trying not to let it tip. But she kept threatening to let the hot tub water get in the glass. So Amy shrieked something about her poisoning her mother with the bromine. (is that even possible?) Anyway, I told Ryan not to worry about it, because Amy was already poisoning herself drinking that shit Oliver wine. HA! See how funny I am? No? Okay.

Julie said I'm hard core because if I drink something I don't like I pour it out. But really, that's what wine people do. That's why they have buckets at tastings. So you can dump it if you don't like it. And in my defense, when I dumped a glass at her house, it was from an old bottle of valpolicella that she had in her frig that she prefaced with "yeah, I didn't like this when I opened it, and it's been in the frig a couple of days, I'm probably going to toss it." All I did was confirm, that yes, goat piss might be more enticing and dumped my glass.

Anyway - enough about wine. (is there really such a thing?) Cub Scout Camp the rest of the week! Hurrah! My favorite time of year!! Water guns and swimming and smores and skits and hobo meals and water guns and archery and YAY!! So I'll be out of commish for awhile...talk amongst yourselves.

Cracked foam could delay shuttle launch...

Really? This is the lead story on CNN right now. My husband and I were watching the news this morning before I left for work. We saw that the launch had been delayed yesterday due to weather. Really? Your average thunderstorm can cause enough turbulence to affect the launch of a shuttle taking off with 6.6 million pounds of thrust from 4 million pounds of rocket fuel and a shuttle that weighs in at 120 tons? TONS. And you're telling me that a 60 mph wind is a FACTOR? I'm no physics genius, but seriously? Whodathunk? But this foam thing, that's a biggie for them and I understand that...foam wiped them out before. No way this thing is taking off. It's not worth the risk.

So my husband and I got to talking because they said that everyday they delay launch costs NASA one million dollars. One MILLION dollars. Huh. Kevin was outraged by this. We have to pay one million dollars per day waiting for this shuttle to launch, and what is IT going to do for ME? Huh. It's a valid point. It's the main argument with NASA. Yeah the Soviets beat us there with Sputnik, yeah our feelings and our pride were hurt, but we walked on the moon first! And what, really have we learned in the last 40 years since? I think space exploration as far as launching satellites has been great. I know I would suffer greatly if I didn't have those 500+ channels at my disposal...thank you Neil.

You laugh, but that is one of the first things mentioned on this site, where they answer the question "what has going into space done for us." Most of the answers have to do with satellites...which I find fascinating and necessary (not just for great TV). Which begs the question...why do we repeatedly send HUMANS up there? We could just as easily, as we have in the past, send unmanned aircrafts there to launch satellites, orbit the earth with various rocks, foods and dirty diapers on board and then land them to see what the outcome was. I mean, I'm not trying to undermine anyone's dreams of becoming an astronaut, I guess I'm just looking for a little justification? People keep talking about "medical technology" that's been discovered in space. Really? What? No one can answer that other than the temperpedic. Which I love. Very much. And people say the laptop was due to them needing smaller instruments in space. I think the computer people would have gotten there all on their own, without NASA. I really do. People would have wanted portable computing and smaller handheld phones whether the astronauts asked for it or not.

Anyway, generally I support space exploration, because, well, I don't know why...and I guess that's my real question. Why am I buying what they're selling? Do we NEED to be in space? What has space done for me lately? Is it really the final frontier? Does it require me to someday wear a gay little uniform? Because I'm wearing a rocking shirt that I got on sale at Vicky's Secret and I'm not giving it up to live in space. I'm just sayin...

Here's to good friends, tonight is kinda special...

So my darling husband decided to be nice to me in my hour of emotional and physical need and take Alex to his guitar and drum lesson last night. I originally had planned on relaxing on the deck with a book and a glass of chardonnay (trader joe's, btw...it's very nice) But then I decided to ring up an old friend. My gorgeous roommate from college (who is still gorgeous at 35 after 2 kids, I secretly hate her a little) emailed me out of the blue the other day. We chit-chatted via email and caught up. Well I looked up her number and got her on the phone. We talked for the next 2 hours. It was great! Owen kept pacing past the sliding glass doors. "Wanna play croquet?" "I found some new yu-gi-oh cards on ebay" "Are we eating dinner?"

I guess I should have warned Cindy that I had muscle relaxer before I called her...and I had two glasses of wine during that conversation...oops. But I was still able to make dinner! Granted, it was 9:15 and I was making hot dogs and baked beans, but still! They weren't just any hot dogs...they were NATHAN's hot dogs. Brilliant. You know how we have Vienna Beef in the entryways of the Lowe's and Home Depot's out here? Well in PA, they have Nathan's...it's a NY institution and I love them. I recently discovered that they sell them here at the Wiseway and I splurge every now and again.

While the family ate we watched a re-run of "America's Got Talent" on Bravo. Have you seen this train wreck of a show? It's awesome! Some Brit, Brandy and David-fucking-Hasselhoff, otherwise known as "the man who cried when Taylor Hicks won American Idol", are the judges. And basically it's an advanced version of the gong show...where they can buzz people to stop them from embarrassing themselves. Some are really good, some are horrible. Like the 75 year old male stripper...but last night, little 11 year old Bianca Ryan blew me away. If you follow this link to the show's recap site you can see a video of her singing. Unbelievable. The Brit told her to change her hair, change her dress, change her shoes (thank the Lord, those white shoes were hideous) and she would win this thing. I completely agree.

Well, I know the Raganites don't have to work on Monday. I'll be here with bells on. Hopefully you all have a great weekend!

Well it seems I owe you an apology...

Sorry I haven't been around much this week guys, but this morning my boss walked in and announced that tomorrow is his last day. Yeah, that's right...I'm the only systems geek here now. Holy shit. Usually techies have to give at least a 30 day notice...I get 2. 2 days to learn stuff I don't know. I'd like to think I can figure it out...but he does the windows stuff. I am not a windows girl for crap's sake. I'm the cool unix back-end, backup, firewall girl. aaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhh. Remember how I was wondering how they could possibly be paying an IT staff this large for a small firm. Well, this is how. I am freaking out.

In other news Brittany Spears is pulling a Demi Moore and being all naked with her pregnant self on some magazine that I would never buy in a million years. Why? Why is this necessary? Is it PR rebuttal for that absolutely HORRID interview she did with Matt Lauer? Did you SEE that train wreck. She was wearing a tank top with her pregnant breasts spilling over the top...she had JBF hair (can't afford stylists, sweetie??) and was chewing gum. CHEWING GUM. On national TV, while talking to Matt Lauer....seriously...am I her PR person? Because of course I would have thought that was FINE, but we all know that I should just.shut.up.

The Republicans are at it again...gay marriage, flag burning, what's next? English as the National Language? I find it hilarious that they are so against "big government" until it involves them trying to shove the church up my ass and let the Bible dictate my constitutional amendments. Hey Washington, here's a clue...if the BIBLE is your defense for an amendment - then it shouldn't be an amendment. Yes, it's clear that the states don't support gay marriage. Well if that's the case, why do we need an amendment when the states are handling it just fine? Oh yeah, midterm elections. And Ann Coulter? Someone needs to take her down a notch. I do not understand why she gets so much press. Let me get this straight. The widows of 9/11 are "broads" because they are "happily" making money off their husbands deaths...but you are what? a saint for making money off a book calling them names? There are a lot of laws that were founded because victims families stood up and made sure that nothing tragic like that could happen to other people, why should these WOMEN be afforded any less luxury if our own government is partially to blame for what happened. And how dare she call me Godless. Last time I checked only Jesus was supposed to judge...but apparently she's got the market cornered. Whatever. Tiffany, I hope you're loving this, I'm on a roll.

I'm too pissed off and crabby these days to make any sense over what I'm seeing on the news. And I'm paying over $3.00 a gallon for gas, and $50 for a bottle of muscle relaxers that I can't function without because my specialist is too damn busy to see me and tell me if and what is wrong with me. Education is plummeting, medical expenses and gas expenses are rising, minimum wage is apparently good enough even though inflation is on the rise and the fucking grand old party wants to base it's platform for re-election on THIS???? Sweet Jesus, I'm moving to Canada.

I'll bring the funny back, I swear...once the pain subsides and I figure out everything I need to know here. Give me until Wednesday...a good drunk over the holiday will do me some good. I hope my sister-in-law is making marguaritas...

Layoffs suck, and other obvious statements...

I'm not feeling very bloggy today.

I had my MRI this morning. Laying on my back with my shoulder in this condition is not my idea of a good time. Both of my hands went completely numb. She gave me an emergency button to push if I panicked the in the small space. Hey, great idea...if I could FEEL the button. It was bad, folks. I didn't even realize how bad it was until it was happening.

Then I had to sit there for an hour before they drew my bloodwork. I used to work in a hospital. DRAWING BLOOD - we never had people waiting for an hour. Even on a Saturday morning. Head 'em up, move 'em out. Seriously...they need a better system over there. They're going to get an earful in my survey. Pre-register my ass. A lot of good that did me.

I get to work, the power is out...for miles. Fantastic. The power comes up and the man in the corner office sends an email that they are laying people off today. The hits just keep on comin'. A moment of silence for my beloved sugar snap pea who was the first to fall to the almighty axe.

So yeah, I don't feel much like being witty, or funny...
Anyone got a joke?

Life's a beach...

What a great weekend!

Friday night found me and the Tigger eating pasta and having beers and chit chat on her front porch. The most amazing thing in the world to me? The fogger trucks. Do they have this in Chesterton? Valpo? This pick up truck drives around and fogs for mosquitoes. BRILLIANT. We can barely get them to drive around and deliver the mail and you guys are getting fogged!

Saturday Owen finally got his Heely's. OMG. He's so excited he can hardly stand it. We got Mr. Big Foot a size 8...there is a little room to grow, which is good, because it may take him awhile to get the hang of it. After the Sports Authority we left Owen with Alex practicing his Heely's work in the parking lot while we dashed into the Old Navy...is that wrong...to abandon your children on wheels in the parking lot? It's harder than it looks, rolling around on your heels. Gazelle that I am I would never get the hang of it.

On to Michigan!! We stopped at Redamak's...yummmmm! It had been a long time since I'd been there. Kevin and I couldn't even remember if we'd ever been there together, that's how long it's been. I know in the summer of beer Steffen and I went there. Of course, that was his "standard date" location...I think I paid my own way that night just so I wouldn't be classified as a date. ;) Anyway - any place that offers me green olives on my burger is a-okay in my book. The boys loved the shakes and we had chili cheese fries...I LOVE vacation weekends! Stumbled into the antique barn next door - the guy was willing to make deals and I bought some accessories to my wine bottle foyer.

We checked in early and picked up some beers. More Heely's practice for Owen. Julie, Chris & H arrive...yay! We putz around the room catching up and eventually make it to the wine fest. 9 wineries, reggae playing...I sent the boys to the beach. The water was great for swimming. I could have left Alex there all day.

My favorite wines:
Karma Vista - Pink Side of the Moon, Kevin and Julie LOVED the Starry Starry White
I didn't like a gosh darn thing from St. Julian, sorry.
Contessa - Divino. A blend of whites. This was really great...but I don't see it on their website. When we go back in July I'm going to have to find this!
Round Barn, Free Run Cellars, Lemon Creek, Domaine Berrien - nothing stuck with me.
Fenn Valley - their Reisling was fantastic
Warner - best Cabernet in the place. GREAT finish - jack ass guy behind the counter. He was in some floral shirt and kept popping on his sunglasses and talking like a surfer. I don't think it was an act. I think this is actually how he talked. It wasn't cute or funny...it was annoying. Shut up and pour.

The tent was big and they had lots of tables outside near where the bands were playing. Reggae, blues, jazz by Liquid Soul. We only heard the first two...the set of pipes on Lady Sunshine and the X Band...fantastic. They made it a really good time and lots of people were up and dancing. I would absolutely attend this again, and based on the fantastic turn out, I'm sure this will be a yearly thing that will only get bigger and better.

I stuck with the Divino while we were there. Kevin stuck with the Riesling. Chris kept asking where the beer was. Back at our hotel. So that's where we went for pizza and beer and cards. But not until we saw some guy passed out at the fest. Ah...the kids don't realize that wine is more powerful than they know. You must pace yourself....or you end up face first in front of the concession stand with paramedics putting salts under your nose. That is not what I call a great day at the beach. And what was his excuse...men only absorb 1/2 the alchohol they drink! It's true! We are genetically manufactured to get us drunk and take advantage of us! Men have the superior stomach enzymes for consuming alcohol...NOT fair. They don't have to bleed once a month...no pushing out babies...they get the higher pay scale...they NEVER have to wear pantyhose (well, some CHOOSE to)...and now...NOW we find out they can process alcohol better. I cry genetic party foul!

Sunday brunch at the Cracker Barrel. yummmmmmmm. Then we went up to St. Joe to find our vacation house that we're renting in July...Sweet Sara's. It's gorgeous and the people who own it couldn't be nicer. Cannot wait until July. Kevin and the boys are totally pumped up to go there. Pray to the weather gods that all will be well. We will be in VERY close proximity to both Contessa, Fenn Valley and Karma Vista wineries...BRILLIANT. Hurry up July!

Embarrassing moments? I know from embarrassing...

grace: n.
1. Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion.
2. A characteristic or quality pleasing for its charm or refinement.
3. A sense of fitness or propriety.
4.
1. A disposition to be generous or helpful; goodwill.
2. Mercy; clemency.
5. A favor rendered by one who need not do so; indulgence.
6. A temporary immunity or exemption; a reprieve.
7. Graces Greek & Roman Mythology. Three sister goddesses, known in Greek mythology as Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia, who dispense charm and beauty.
8.
1. Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people.
2. The state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God.
3. An excellence or power granted by God.
9. A short prayer of blessing or thanksgiving said before or after a meal.
10. Grace Used with His, Her, or Your as a title and form of address for a duke, duchess, or archbishop.
11. Music. An appoggiatura, trill, or other musical ornanment in the music of 16th and 17th century England.

This definition brought to you by dictionary.com. I was talking yesterday about my most embarrassing moments. They all have to do with grace, and my lack thereof.

I've mentioned before that I cannot and should not run. Ever. There are 3-toed sloths that look more attractive running than I do. It's a fact, I've learned to live with it. But the fact remains that really, I shouldn't walk, either. It's ugly. Hideous in fact. My darling husband used to compare my walking to our beloved Great Pyrenees, Barney. Who had hip dysplasia and severe arthritis. His hair was so thick that if he got wet, he literally could not lift his ass off the ground. He walked very slowly, and like he had a slinky in his hind quarters. This, apparently, is me. My walking through the office holding a heavy object has caused my boss to stop and point and laugh from afar. I'm not kidding.

So grace is not usually a term associated with me in any way. None of my features are graceful...Audrey Hepburn I am not. I have no chin...and therefore no profile. My ears are misaligned, which means my glasses are crooked, by design. One shoulder is higher than the other. To the point that my sleeves hang funny. My left foot is bigger than my right and both feet are flat. My chest is too large. My smile is crooked. Not crooked in my teeth are nasty kind of way, crooked in a "you can see more gums on the right side of my smile than my left." And not just a little bit. A lot. I have a freakishly large right calf. Once I pointed it out to a couple of people here, they were amazed...I actually measured it and I think it's almost a full inch bigger in circumference. I provide this visual of anatomic irregularity for those of you who do not know me personally. I am a freak of nature. But I do have the best hair I've ever had in my whole life, and that counts for something, dammit.

So my most embarrassing moment. There was a time when I looked ab fab. I was kickboxing 3 time per week. I was tan. I had hair down to my ass. I was a rockstar! It was during the "summer of beer," which I will always remember fondly. Let's reflect on that a minute. mmmmm. beer.

So the Kev-head and I were in our "hiatus" o.k.a. "Kevin needs to get his head out of his ass" summer. (I love you honey!!), and I was on a date. I had never dated this boy before. Hell, he was only the second boy I dated since giving birth to Owen. (the first being the aforementioned frady cat on hiatus) He took me to a jazz club in Chicago. I was dressed to kill, baby! Long black dress with slits up the sides, black heels, makeup (who knew I could wear makeup??) - I looked very presentable. We hit the club and he goes to the bar to get us drinks. Fantastic. I move towards where the music is playing, feeling very confident. One step down...two steps down...three steps down...and here folks, here is where we have our problem. For the record, if you ever go to the Green Dolphin, there are FOUR steps. 1-2-3-4 steps...not three, as I had previously assumed in the dark club. Making this assumption, I didn't anticipate the 4th step...I was anticipating the FLOOR. Which is precisely where I landed as my heel caught the edge of the 4th step...that I didn't see. Yes, face down...spread eagle, in a DRESS on the FLOOR of a Chicago jazz club. Some nice man who saw me fall helped me off the floor. Great. Thank you Mr. Nice Guy. I immediately ran to the bathroom, which sold cigarettes, God love them...and smoked two...or three...I can't remember...but my date was very confused when I finally did come out, hoping that all of the people who had seen me take my nose dive into the lovely hardwood of the club had dispersed and were not still standing there with pity in their eyes. The rest of the evening was fine and obviously Mr. Date wasn't, even though he didn't witness the fall, because here I am 6 years later, married to Mr. Kev-head. Who surely, even if he hadn't seen me fall, would have imitated it and replayed over...and over...and over for the past 6 years. So I guess I should be grateful for something.

What are YOU reading?

I'm about halfway through the book "Night" - written by holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel years ago, but has just recently been re-translated (he originally penned the book in Yiddish) by his wife and has been featured on Oprah.

I've started "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion- which is also a book on death and dealing with death. I think. I'm not that far in to determine what the book is actually about.

And I'm reading "The Wedding" by Nicholas Sparks - which isn't about death. Phew! I was beginning to think I had a theme going.

I haven't finished any of them, but I can already tell that at 127 pages and subject matter that is so compelling I could (and probably will) weep - Night will be the first book I finish. Probably tonight. The imagery is shocking, but the book is well-written. Not feeling up to watching Schindler's List ever in my life, I'm surprised that I'm making my way through this book at all. I guess we'll see if I'm able to sleep tonight before I decide if this was a good idea. I tend to keep these kinds of tragic images with me for quite some time. I can't read most of what's in the paper any more. I just can't. I get depressed almost to the point of physical illness. I'm not sure what's wrong with me that makes me so empathetic or whatever that I simply can't let go of stories like this, or news stories about tragedy, or the "Sunday's Child" section of the paper. Is it my Catholic guilt that I'm not doing enough? Is it because secretly I would love to be in the peace corps or the red cross teaching English and providing medical care to underpriveleged children all over the world?

My boss just finished "America's Report Card" by John McNally...his friend since college and published author of several books/short stories. Scott is mentioned in the acknowledgements. I would like to start reading this as well. It's a funny horrible story about me and Mr. McNally. He was at Scott's wedding last year. My husband used to work with a man named Dan McNally. They were friends and I used to talk to him occasionally. So at Scott's reception, never having met his friend/author, I walk up and introduce myself saying "Aren't you Dan McNally" - and he has this look of horror on his face...and corrects me that his name is actually John. Oy. Open mouth and insert foot. I tried to defend myself that the mixup was because of my husband's co-worker, but the damage was done. Brilliant Rebecca, simply brilliant. And then Scott tells me later that John does not forgive or forget such things. Great. So now I'm the girl who has forever insulted him.

This is not the dumbest or most embarrassing thing I've ever done.
But it's close.

It's a mouthgasm!!

No, not like that you sickos...

Every now and again the world of food comes up with items that I cannot stop myself from eating...well...let's be honest...overindulging. Okay, let's be REALLY honest...it's a glutton-fest like no other.

I've seen a gazillion commercials for the "moolatta" from DQ. I've never had one, partially on purpose. I just am never in a position where I'm driving past a DQ - so I've been able to keep myself from that little morsel that I hear is to die for. HOWEVER...I do work right next door to a Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins. They have the cappucino blast. Same concept, I think - cappucino with ice cream and whatever flavor o'the month they can think of. Well folks...I broke down yesterday morning. I tried one...the turtle flavored one. I needed a little pick me up after my late night with the goddess of pop and coffee was just not going to cut it. Remember how I need to remove the phrase "it'll be fine" from my vocabulary? Well...this is NOT fine. It's within WALKING distance for crap's sake. I just got one for lunch and I'm ready to go get one for an afternoon snack. I'm already planning on getting one on the way home. Sweet Jesus these things are good. Kathy just tried mine...she immediately said "go get me one." This is not going to be good for either one of us as we enable each other into gluttony. Oh the willpower I wish I had!

My other gluttonous addiction right now is cheese. Not just any cheese. Laughing Cow spreadable swiss cheese. Damn you Jennifer Adams for getting me started on this. I could slam an entire container of that swissy goodness down in one sitting with a box of club crackers...and some sliced green olives on top...with a beer...or two...or ten. Want to go to the Meijer right now and pick some up.

And for some reason my whole household is having a love affair with french onion dip. I don't usually keep chips and dip on hand because we don't usually snack that much. But I found this Dutch Farms Sour Cream FOD, throw in some wavy lays and look out. I can do some serious damage to that container...the boys, too. I can't keep this stuff in the house!

After seeing Madonna the other night, I'm realizing how soft in the middle I really am. I guess I should stop my snacking...
but then...
the dunkin donuts is calling my name...

I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know...please don't say you're sorry

I've heard it all before...and I...can take care of myself...~Madonna's "Sorry" from 'Confessions on a Dance Floor'

HAVE YOU CONFESSED?

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Madonna.
Madonna.
Madonna.

Seriously? Seriously. 2 seats off the catwalk, 17 rows from the main stage, 2 rows off the secondary stage. She is unbelievable. Her show is a 2 hour cardio workout and she SINGS. I love her. I love her. I love her. An unbelievable performer. She now sits firmly in my top ten with Sir Paul, Prince, Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls. Sir Paul is and always will be numero uno, but between Prince and Madonna, it's a toss up for the number 2 spot. Unbe-fucking-lievable. The sheer athleticism of what she was doing up there and to sing on top of it? Whole new respect. I thought the new CD was just okay until I saw it last night and now I'm listening nonstop. AND I got Madonna buttons for my jean jacket...how super-gay is that? Yeah, I love it.

AND Ozzie Guillen was there and we got his autograph for Owen. It's on a Depakote post-it note that we got from the people sitting next to us...but hey - beggars can't be choosers, right? And P.S. - Ozzie's son? WAAAAAAAAAY hotter in person than I remember him from the World Series coverage last year. Super hot.

As for the heat in the United Center due to the lack of air conditioning, it wasn't unbearable in there. I was jumping around like a maniac, so I think I would have been sweating regardless.

Old stuff - she did Like a Virgin...Live to Tell...Ray of Light (which was also one of my faves with her on guitar...ab fab) Substitute for Love, Erotica, La Isla Bonita, Music, Lucky Star.

I know SOME people (I'm lookin' at you, pea) - think she's just a worthless whore...but I'm telling you...even if you don't appreciate her music or that sex phase she went through...she is an amazing female artist, and after 23 years...Phenom. And her body? Pilates here I come...no one should be able to do what she did for 120 minutes without air conditioning. She didn't even look like she was breathing heavy.

Maybe I'll be able to focus on something else tomorrow...but today...no way.

Monday morning you sure looked fine...

Good morning ramblers! WOW! What a weekend...lots to talk about, so awaaaaaay we go.

First - Julie and Jimmer are back in town...so they better be out here...none of this blah-blah-blah we were gone so we have a lot to catch up on nonsense.

Friday night - Owen's game...NOT good. Lost to the slaughter rule. That's never happened to us before. Owen is not hitting. The mighty Casey's bat is very cold. Struck out twice on Friday and 3 times at Saturday's game. I hope the Kev-head gets him out in the yard tonight to practice or tomorrow's game will be disastrous.

After the game some ladies came over for some cocktails. Hilariously good fun. Kids in the pool/hot tub at midnight. Good times. Discussions were all over the table. The bad part? The bug fest that was my house after the ladies left. See, when you have 6 kids, all running in and out to talk to us, play tag, generally be kids...the bugs that are "walking towards the light" just keep coming and coming and coming. The counter where I was mixing martinis? OMG - completely covered. I spent a solid 20 minutes after the ladies left just wiping dead bugs off my counters, stove, inside my sink...ewwwwwwwww. The pool table downstairs? Vaccummed it once, and you can't even tell. Seriously. That bad.

And now the moment you've all been waiting for...dog breeding.

Yes, I'm studding out King Krypton of the Crumerosa. Yeah, that's right, that's his name. I never said we were normal. Took Kryp over to his new girlfriend's (Maxie) house on Saturday morning. I didn't quite know how he would act, or what we would see. He's been humping on Joe so much I was worried I might have turned him prison gay. Maxie is in heat and I guess for dogs, that's the equivalent of being in your mid-30's sexual peak. She was all over my boy, who was really more interested in peeing on everything he could. Twice. Three times. She was jumping near him. Over him. Around him. Trying to mount HIM. Huh? (Is that her saying, "No, do it like THIS!") Yeah, I'll never understand dogs. Which I guess is kind of okay. Kryp tried to do his thing a couple of times but she would have no part in it. Today they seemed more on track when I dropped him off. He's got today and Wednesday to make this happen. I'll keep you posted.

Saturday's game was not good either. We didn't have enough players and Owen couldn't hit. I think we lost 11-4. Yikes.

I have more from the weekend, but I don't want this post to be eons long...I'll stretch it out into the week.

For now I must leave you with this: I'm going to Madonna and you're not. Most of you could care less...to you I say...WHATEVER. I have loved this woman forever and it's going to be a GREAT show. Me and the Janet...off to the United Center, for FREE. Kev-head scored some majorly good tickets from a vendor. YEAH baby!

A subculture I cannot break into...

And I'm not so sure I want to.

Well....it was inevitable. Our first "bike night"...at HOOTERS. Nice. Easily 150 bikes there at any one time. If 6 would pull out, 6 more would pull in to replace them. The place was a madhouse. And not just in your typical "busy" type of madhouse...but maaaaaaadhouse. I've never seen so much leather in my life. (no comments about S&M conferences, please...)

I consider myself someone who can fit into any setting. As Julie likes to say...I have friends before other people have seats. But this...this place...no way. Not in this sausage fest. Which is basically what it was, with the occasional side of silicone.

In my jeans and my black T - I was the most overdressed woman in the place. Well, maybe there were a couple of older women like me who were dressed a little more conservatively...so maybe like 3 of us weren't showing as much skin as Maxim magazine. But these other hoochies...YOWZA. The Hooters girls looked overdressed...so you know it was bad.

First, I know I don't know all of the biker rules...but who rides in flip-flops? I am a lover of the flip-flop from waaaaaaaay back. Ain't no way.

Second, who rides in a micro mini? Maybe my friend bikerguy...hehe (I'd love a spoof photo of THAT)...I wouldn't even know how to SIT in one of those things, let alone SIT on a BIKE.

Third, when did the "heroin-chic" look come back in as far as eye makeup? I didn't get that memo.

Fourth, do I need a boob job to be a biker babe? Saline and silicone as far as the eye can see.

Fifth, to the guys who were there after their golf outing...and I know they are not reading this, so this is really for my own benefit. SHUT UP. Especially you, Mr. Loud-Talker-please-everyone-in-Hooters-look-at-me. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Even your friends have stopped talking to you. You're annoying. And I know from annoying. For those of you who know Kev-head's friend Danny - his voice was like that...and his laugh twice as loud if you can believe it. And everything he said he said for the benefit of everyone in the place. Shut up.

There were a lot of gorgeous bikes out there, though. I told Kevin I don't ever have to go there again. Been there, done that, over it. Maybe a good bike show with more of a mixed crowd where people actually, I don't know, wear clothes. And I can shop. ;)

Kevin's off on his fishing trip in Lake Erie.
Everyone have a great weekend!

Allelujah! Allelujah!!

Mr. Neighbor moved the chickens! Yeah baby!

He moved them into the pasture where the dogs can't see them. They can still get to them, mind you, but now, hopefully, they won't be a distraction. I don't think for a minute that this chapter of posts is concluded, but I have hope.

No good way to segue... (hey, that rhymed)
Men and women are so different. Ever notice that? I feel really good about the female friends I've accumulated in my life. The girls I have now are total keepers... we all talk about everything, for the most part, much to our husbands chagrin. And do you know what I've discovered? That we're all married to the same man. I realize that this must be difficult to believe, but really...we are. How in the world is this possible? And it just makes me think that really some of this stuff must be hardwired into them...not all of them had the same shared experiences as children. They all had different parents, different childhoods...but yet, here we all are, doing great battle with them day after day after day over the same things. I've never read "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" - but I have a feeling this is what that person was talking about.

For me I'm coming to realize that the bottom line with most men is that their coping mechanisms are broken. And for you men reading this, I'm sorry...but you're broken. Think about it. If you've ever had a fight with your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other...it's because you couldn't cope with something, some small change, some missing item, some minor disagreement that gets blown out of proportion. Seriously.

You can't find your belt.
You can't find the scissors.
You wanted to do x and she wanted to do y.
You couldn't control the reaction of someone.
Your neighbors put a chicken coop right on your property line.

These are all situations that can be resolved very quickly and without anyone getting all whipped up. But men will whip it up in a second. If they spent as much time trying to solve whatever instead of bitching/pissing/moaning/getting all whipped up about whatever, they could have time to then just sit on the couch and have a beer. "Water off a duck's back" is a phrase I like to use. I consider myself fairly easy going. Take whatever is in front of you, process it, solve it, move on. I guess that's why I'm in IT.

And no, I'm not outing Kev-head right now. This post is not in response to anything he's done...lately. HA! He's actually been quite agreeable since getting the Harley and hiring a competent assistant in his office. (no, not THAT kind of assistant, I'm not THAT cool a spouse) This is more in response to a couple of my girlfriends (who shall remain nameless...don't out yourselves in the comments ladies) and some troubles they've had recently and over the years. They are all telling me about them and it's insane, because the names are different, but the result is the same. Lack of male coping = crabby husband=fighting husband/wife.

Just random thoughts to fill the day.
The weather is gorgeous.
Go out and get yourself some vitamin sunshine folks.

The rooster story...

Ah, yes, the rooster...cock-a-doodle-fucking-doo. Despite any misconceptions you all may have about roosters, they don't just crow in the morning. They crow the entire time they are awake. The roosters next door start at 4 am. And what some of you may not know is that my husband sleeps so light that the clouds passing over too loudly can cause him to sleep with earplugs in. So he's already been plotting ways to secretly kill these roosters. Besides...who has 3 roosters for 5 chickens? I know FARMS of chickens that don't even have a rooster...they borrow one from the farm down the street. That cock is so busy doodle-dooing I don't think he even has time to crow. How do I know shit like this happens?

Well - I used to work in North Judson. Farm country. One day I'm in the post office and I hear a rooster crowing. This happens several times while I'm standing there at the counter. Finally I ask "Is that a rooster?" The post office lady rolls her eyes, lets out a sigh and says yes. And it's been crowing all day. Ummmm, pardon me ma'am, but why is there a rooster in the post office? One of the farmers is MAILING it to another farmer so they can have chicks. Seriously? Seriously. Cocks in the mail...brilliant...and legal.

But I digress.

So yesterday my dogs are out, pretty as you please...and not bothering anyone. Until it's time to put them away. From their kennel they can see the chickens/roosters. Which are almost never in their pen these days. The roosters hop up and over the top and the chickens just walk through the damn fence. So almost all of the fowl are out and about...some of them on my property which is oh, say...3 feet away from where they live...so the dogs who WERE going into their kennel are now off and running and chasing down the chickens. Well the chickens are SCATTERING at this point...so the minute I get the dogs off of one, they are off and chasing down another. I can't keep up. I'm screaming and running and throwing my phone at them (it was the only thing I had on me). This, I'm sure paints a hilarious picture for you as you all know I cannot run. I should never be seen running. It's not pretty. I should most definitely not be seen running, screaming and throwing phones. But there I was...feathers flying, me screaming and chickens scattering. They tore a lot of feathers off of the one rooster who then hid behind some day lilies while I distracted the dogs.

Another mess of feathers out of another chicken, who escaped after I threw the phone at Jessie, and went back through the fence and into the deck box.

Last night I was very upset. I didn't know what to do.

I did what all 30something women do when they have a problem. I called my mother. Who, surprisingly enough, didn't have an answer for me.

And this morning, on top of the deckbox...there was the rooster, short a few feathers, but cock-a-doodle-dooing just the same. Kevin says I stopped the fight too early. Oy.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right...

You ever have one of those weeks that make you want to crawl into bed with some spreadable swiss cheese, a box of crackers and green olives and watch the Lifetime Movie Network all weekend and cry? No? Just me? Is it the cheese that's throwing you off? Substitute your favorite comfort food, you'll get my drift.

Some of you know what I do for a living. I am a geek. Not in that, hey, she knows something about computers kind of way...in that she's the firewall administrator, unix administrator kind of way. Geeks like me say things like "direction enforcement for unidirectional connections, where packet flow is in the opposite direction to the connection direction."

HUH?

Yeah, really no one says that. But it was in one of my training manuals once, so I clipped it and keep it on my monitor. When and if I ever understand what the hell THAT geek is talking about, I know I have arrived.

Mostly I just sit around praying nothing breaks. I'm in the same biz as the Jimmer and Sher-bear. Insurance. I am this company's insurance policy. You don't NEED your insurance every single day, but you pay the premium because when shit hits the fan, you have to have the policy to bail you out. That's me. I'm the policy. Which mostly is good...I can sit here and blog with you guys and read other blogs and respond to them, and catch up on the news and zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...oh sorry...where was I?

Monday my firewall went down at 4:05 pm. Just not there. Just sitting at a prompt that says ok. Well, in the geek world ok is not okay. ok means I don't know what to do next. Ok means I can't boot. ok means help I've fallen and I can't get up. Because I'm a fairly decent geek, I had a spare firewall in the safe. Got the firewall up and running and back on track by 6:45pm. YAY for me.

Until Tuesday, when my phone rings at 6am and it's my boss. He's not calling to say, "Hey, great job yesterday, why don't you stay home." He's calling to tell me that our email isn't working. That the queue is stacking up and I should probably take a look at it before the gen pop gets to the office and starts REALLY filling the queue. Shit. The problem isn't that I can't fix it...the problem is that my shitty dsl keeps going up and down the entire time I'm trying to fix it. Very frustrating. I actually figured out what was going on fairly quickly...my arp wasn't arp-ing. Hurrah! We've had this problem before. So I call my handy dandy firewall tech support staff because they'll be able to tell me how to fix this lickety-splickety. Except they can't. Because our support contract expired May 1st and I didn't renew it. Ahem. WHAT??? Oh.my.God. What's that saying about "Idle hands are the devil's tools?" Seriously. How on earth did I let this happen? Oy.

So I try to remember how to fix this blasted problem, and eventually I do, by about noon on Tuesday. No mail was lost, just delayed. All is well.

And I have a paralyzed kitten waiting for me when I get home.

And a school board that's screwing us royally.

Wednesday was actually a good day.

Thursday my email firewall powers down in the middle of the day. For no apparent reason. I switch outlets on the UPS and boom, back and running.

Until 4 am. When it shuts off again. Clearly we're experiencing a power problem. And I'm the only geek here. So once again our email is down. Luckily I was able to take the email firewall out of the mail route and bring us back to life again, but the ironic part is that I only needed this box to last 2 more weeks. We've had it 4 years. I needed two more weeks, because then we're switching to something else. 2 MORE WEEKS. For the love.

And now my husband is home sick with some sort of stomach virus.

And my contacts are drying out.

And all I can think about is Family Pizza for dinner. And my cheese. and my crackers. and my olives. Which I have SO earned this week.

Enjoy a good chilly weekend with the comfort food of your choice, people...you've all earned it.

It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine...

I hate to be an alarmist, but say your good-byes and party on...because the world as we know it is coming to an end. Armaggedon you ask? No. 6-6-06? No. Worse than both of those things. It's because I have to utter these words...

Jimmer was right.

Kill me now. Just seriously, put me out of my misery. Because the brawl with Billy the Kid did go down, yesterday, on the playground. It wasn't planned, it just sort of happened. And it wasn't really a brawl. There were some punches, and some pushes, and then it was over. Owen didn't get punched or push and did no punching or pushing from all accounts I've received. Roger did and his mom called Billy the Kid's mom and she was shocked that her son was instigating all of this by calling the boys mother fucker's from the playground as they were passing by...which caused them all to jump the fence and face him down. For the love. What kind of idiot starts shouting at a group of 4-6 kids when you're essentially by yourself on the playground?

Anyway, it's over, Billy the Kid shouldn't be in that neighborhood anymore. He doesn't live there, he was just spending the night at a friend's. I'm sure his mother will no longer let him spend the night at that kid's house now that she knows he was roaming the neighborhood challenging kids to fights, dropping f-bombs and generally being nefarious.

On a more hilarious note, Alex was on the phone with a girl last night for 40 minutes. 40 MINUTES...on the phone...a boy who can't even have more than a cryptic conversation with his own father for a few minutes! Talked to a GIRL...on the PHONE. I tried not to harrass him too much about this, but this is good stuff people. He's going to her volleyball party on Saturday.

Backstory: I "leaked" it to a girl in Alex's class that if you want to get under Alex's skin, you should call him Eeyore. This sent that girl giggling to another girl and so on and so on. Some of you might think this was cruel. It absolutely was not. What resulted was the girls giggling about Alex on a daily basis, and calling him Eeyore in the hallway, and hugging him and printing pictures of Eeyore off the internet for him, and eventually, making a special trip to the mall to buy him an Eeyore doll. Oh yes, the girls love Alex. My boss says it's wrong of me to try and get my son laid in the 7th grade. Well, that, of course, is not my intent. But I will poke and prod and do little things to help him out of his shell a little bit. My work here is done.

It will be interesting for him to go to this party on Saturday, my anti-social 7th, now 8th grader. I wonder if Mackenzie, the hugging-Eeyore-buying girl will be there. She luuuuuuuurves Alex and showers him with way more attention than Alex is comfortable with, that's for sure. Talk about wanting to light yourself on fire. After graduation last week, Alex and I are walking to the car and he says..."I got like 7 hugs tonight from girls, 3 of which were from Mackenzie." First of all, who counts the number of hugs they get in an evening? My son really is overly analytical. Secondly...he can tell you who gave him each hug, and when. Third, Alex, seriously! This girl LIKES you likes you...she's not doing this to be cute or funny...she went to the mall, specifically to buy you an Eeyore stuffed animal. It's been a long time since I've been a 7th grade girl (no comments, Jimmer!), but I'm pretty sure she wants to "go with you" whatever that means these days. Just roll with it.