So I know - I suck. I'm a bad, bad blogger. You can't give me any more guilt than I've already given myself. I used to be Catholic for cripes sake.
I've started two different posts this week, but there was a problem. They were horrible. They weren't funny, they lacked anything interesting. Some would argue that most of my posts are that way and I've still managed to keep the the blog going for over a year. (chick-chick-boom! mra3=dork [that was for you katmat])
It's Friday the 13th, kiddies. *insert scary movie music here* Julie's birthday is on the 13th, so every now and again her birthday falls on a Friday the 13th *insert tinkling piano AND scary movie music here*. One year, and I think it was actually her 13th birthday *insert dramatic duhn-duhn-duhn music here* we rented every Jason movie there was and had a slumber party. Back then I was tough. Back then I could handle the blood-n-guts scary movies. Oh who am I kidding...Julie's brothers had to walk me halfway home for YEARS. Still do. I'm a huge scared-of-the-dark-frady-cat sissy. *insert canned laughter here...and pointing*
I can no longer watch scary movies. They freak me out. In fact, I'll share my neuroses a little further. Most of you already know this, but I really do believe that there are "killers" that follow me and are just waiting for me to be
a) alone in the dark outside
b) locking the basement door when it's late and therefore dark outside
c) getting something out of my car in the garage when it's late and dark.
And these aren't The Killers, mind you - because that would be awesome. (I want a lunchbox with Brandon Flowers pictures on it. I love you Brandon, call me.) Yes, I have their button on my jean jacket. Don't you judge me! Have you seen him? He's dreamy cute and I love their songs and oh my, it's John Taylor from Duran Duran all over again. I'm sick, I know. Shut up.
Back to the OTHER killers...lowercase k...they live somewhere around my barn, I think. I'm not sure, I've never actually seen them. They're sneaky. And I just know that if...well, let's say that I do "a)" and go outside when it's dark and scary all by myself. They are going to stalk me in the shadows, possibly whispering, wait until I'm totally freaking out with the hairs raised on the back of my neck, and then jump out of the darkness and mutilate me and put me in my trunk. Actually, that's the way all 3 scenarios end. And the death is long and torturous and drawn out. I'm not even sure if they're men or women, but they're out there. And they follow me. Like not only can I absolutely NOT go outside in the dark in MY house, I also cannot go outside in the dark at YOUR house. Not by myself anyway. Not going to happen, not unless you want me dripping my blood out of my trunk and onto your driveway. Do you want that? Do you???
I've been close to death a couple of times now. I've actually teased the killers and gone outside in the dark by myself and gotten to the hairs raised on the back of my neck part, which is after the the stalking and whispering part! Close calls - because we all know what comes next! The jumping out of the darkness and mutilating me part. Luckily I escaped by running back to the house screaming. That's how you scare them off. That's a free tip from me to you if ever you're confronted by the killers in the dark.
So happy Friday the 13th everyone. Snuggle under a blanket and watch a good romantic comedy tonight. Forget that scary stuff - it's overrated. Besides, you can come to my house anytime you want and hang out with REAL killers. Geesh.
*ETA: Click on the Eileen link to see her latest entry in her local paper. She blames ME for her Idol addiction. The nerve! You can't blame someone else for your own lack of willpower, Eileen. It's time you took responsibility for YOU.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Baby Got Back!
Okay, you know I love you guys - because I am about to post half naked pictures of myself. When I told Kev-head that I needed him to take pictures of my back because I wanted everyone to see my cupping marks ... his response? "Your blog is turning into porn site!" Ummmm what? And then quickly followed it up with "I might have to read it more." Okay, Mr. Funnyman...whatever, let's go take some pics! NO ONE is allowed to make fun of my pale skin, my tan-lines, my bra marks, my freckles or my back fat.
Are we clear about the rules?
Good...here we go...
According to Kevin and the girls here in the office who have seen the one at the very very top...it actually looks worse in person. But still, it doesn't hurt. I swear. I still have some tightness in my sore shoulder, but not as bad as it was. I need to stretch and drink more water. duh.
Now for the bad. Screaming, raging, hellacious migraine last night. Wanted to die. Visual impairment, dry heaves, ice pick headaches all leading up to the main event, the vice gripping unyielding light-yourself-on-fire, pray-for-death migraine. I'm still not all the way over it today, my right temple is still hurting a bit. New naturopathic doctor says my metabolic by-products must have flowed into my head. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. I'm more than willing to ride this one out. I've ridden everything else out...brutal massage therapy sessions that left me in tears, chiropractors adjusting me and making me hurt MORE, physcial therapy hell, MRI's, multiple x-rays, yadda-yadda-yadda. Sometimes you have to take the bad to get the good. So we'll wait it out and see what happens. In the meantime she said maybe we won't do the cupping next time, just the acupuncture.
I think I'm okay with that...
Are we clear about the rules?
Good...here we go...
According to Kevin and the girls here in the office who have seen the one at the very very top...it actually looks worse in person. But still, it doesn't hurt. I swear. I still have some tightness in my sore shoulder, but not as bad as it was. I need to stretch and drink more water. duh.Now for the bad. Screaming, raging, hellacious migraine last night. Wanted to die. Visual impairment, dry heaves, ice pick headaches all leading up to the main event, the vice gripping unyielding light-yourself-on-fire, pray-for-death migraine. I'm still not all the way over it today, my right temple is still hurting a bit. New naturopathic doctor says my metabolic by-products must have flowed into my head. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. I'm more than willing to ride this one out. I've ridden everything else out...brutal massage therapy sessions that left me in tears, chiropractors adjusting me and making me hurt MORE, physcial therapy hell, MRI's, multiple x-rays, yadda-yadda-yadda. Sometimes you have to take the bad to get the good. So we'll wait it out and see what happens. In the meantime she said maybe we won't do the cupping next time, just the acupuncture.
I think I'm okay with that...
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Go shorty, it's your birthday, we're gonna party like it's your birthday...
What am I doing today??? Getting poked and getting hickeys!! Hooray!!
WHAT? Has Rebecca lost her fucking mind??
No kids...I haven't. I went in for acupuncture and cupping today. I didn't know about the cupping part until I got there. For those of you unaware, my shoulder problem has been flaring up again. Not wanting to go back to the den of torture called physical therapy and take even more prescription anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers with who-knows-how-many long term side effects, I decided to break up with Western medicine and try a new approach.
I was nervous about the acupuncture...I've never had a problem with needles, but I've also never voluntarily stuck a dozen of them in various places on my body and left them there for 20 minutes. I didn't even feel them. I kind of felt her pushing them in, but while I was laying there I didn't feel a thing...well, that's not true - the one on my neck just below my hairline was itching a bit. Then she said she wanted to do some cupping....mmmmmmm, yeah...okay, sure, why not. I remember Gwyneth from some news story where she showed up with circular bruises on her back. I wanna be like Gwyneth - let's go.
Yeah, her bruises were small...mine? BASEBALL size or bigger. All over. No, it didn't hurt. It sure looks like it did, but it didn't. I swear I'm going to have Kevin take pictures tonight so I can post them tomorrrow. It looks wickedly worse than it feels. It promotes blood flow and movement of bodily fluids and Qi ... don't you want your blood and your Qi flowing??? I know I sure do. I could use a little more Qi or Chi or whatever you want to call it.
Overall my natural healing experience was a positive one, and I really like this naturopath. She sent me home with some natural remedies (which cost me all of $25, I can't even buy a 10-day supply of prescriptions on that, let alone a month), some dietary changes and overall I feel really good right now.
Other than the giant hickies...
WHAT? Has Rebecca lost her fucking mind??
No kids...I haven't. I went in for acupuncture and cupping today. I didn't know about the cupping part until I got there. For those of you unaware, my shoulder problem has been flaring up again. Not wanting to go back to the den of torture called physical therapy and take even more prescription anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers with who-knows-how-many long term side effects, I decided to break up with Western medicine and try a new approach.
I was nervous about the acupuncture...I've never had a problem with needles, but I've also never voluntarily stuck a dozen of them in various places on my body and left them there for 20 minutes. I didn't even feel them. I kind of felt her pushing them in, but while I was laying there I didn't feel a thing...well, that's not true - the one on my neck just below my hairline was itching a bit. Then she said she wanted to do some cupping....mmmmmmm, yeah...okay, sure, why not. I remember Gwyneth from some news story where she showed up with circular bruises on her back. I wanna be like Gwyneth - let's go.
Yeah, her bruises were small...mine? BASEBALL size or bigger. All over. No, it didn't hurt. It sure looks like it did, but it didn't. I swear I'm going to have Kevin take pictures tonight so I can post them tomorrrow. It looks wickedly worse than it feels. It promotes blood flow and movement of bodily fluids and Qi ... don't you want your blood and your Qi flowing??? I know I sure do. I could use a little more Qi or Chi or whatever you want to call it.
Overall my natural healing experience was a positive one, and I really like this naturopath. She sent me home with some natural remedies (which cost me all of $25, I can't even buy a 10-day supply of prescriptions on that, let alone a month), some dietary changes and overall I feel really good right now.
Other than the giant hickies...
Friday, March 30, 2007
It's official, I'm a brunette!
I feel...smarter...
HA!
Anywho - so today's festivities? Eyebrow waxing. That completes the birthday week of pampering quite succinctly I would say, wouldn't you? Now that I'm a whole new person, looking YEARS younger than my age...I feel like I need a new identity! Who am I? What's my favorite food? What's my brunette name? What's my motivation? Musical influences? Hmmmmmm....
But before we delve into that absurdity, let's stop here: yesterday while at the hairdresser, my shampooer was...a dude. Now I've had male shampooers before...but this guy was like - 20. And tall...super tall...and didn't seem, well...gay. I mean, I hate to stereotype, I really do, but let's face it, there are a number of gay men in the hair care industry. And however inappropriate it is of me to say, it's strange to think of a straight male hairdresser. Why? I don't know. I have no problem picturing a straight male chef - even if cooking is "woman's work" (HAhahahahahaha).
So what's this guy's motivation? Let's say he is straight. He spends his days after school (if he's in school - this dude looked YOUNG) shampooing women's heads? Do you tell your friends this? I mean, you're hanging out and someone says "yeah, I work at the oil-n-go...what do you do?" "I shampoo hair." Is he some whacko with a head fettish? ew! And I was his head candy for the day? double ew? Did he video the session??? Triple ew. He didn't seem shocked by my unicorn-ness...so that's a plus. Is he going to become a hairdresser or stay a shampooer? He mixed my color, too, and it looks faboo, so I guess he knows what he's doing.
Just something to think about ladies and gents.
Yesterday I did something I've NEVER done before - I had Liz (aka most amazing master stylist EVAH) dye my eyebrows the same color as my hair. I'm not sure what's happening to me. I used to have eyebrows, I guess I still do, but they're getting lighter...or *gasp*...GRAYER (is that a word?) and becoming non-existent looking on my face. Hrmph. And with my new dark hair color I was afraid I would wash out. So she dyed them. It's so cool! I have eyebrows. But then, then I had too much eyebrow. I mean, it wasn't a unibrow or anything, but they were just...too much. So today I had them waxed. Hooray!
Now I'm a whole new person!
I can turn my head, thanks to the gifted hands of Natalie,
I have faboo hair thanks to Liz and shampoo man,
I can wear sandals thanks to non-English speaking Asian man at the nail place,
and I have fantastically shaped eyebrows thanks to some chick down the street who could fit me in.
It's brilliant.
I know it takes a village to raise a child...apparently it takes a village and an entire week of lunch hours to make me look like a girl. Who knew?
HA!
Anywho - so today's festivities? Eyebrow waxing. That completes the birthday week of pampering quite succinctly I would say, wouldn't you? Now that I'm a whole new person, looking YEARS younger than my age...I feel like I need a new identity! Who am I? What's my favorite food? What's my brunette name? What's my motivation? Musical influences? Hmmmmmm....
But before we delve into that absurdity, let's stop here: yesterday while at the hairdresser, my shampooer was...a dude. Now I've had male shampooers before...but this guy was like - 20. And tall...super tall...and didn't seem, well...gay. I mean, I hate to stereotype, I really do, but let's face it, there are a number of gay men in the hair care industry. And however inappropriate it is of me to say, it's strange to think of a straight male hairdresser. Why? I don't know. I have no problem picturing a straight male chef - even if cooking is "woman's work" (HAhahahahahaha).
So what's this guy's motivation? Let's say he is straight. He spends his days after school (if he's in school - this dude looked YOUNG) shampooing women's heads? Do you tell your friends this? I mean, you're hanging out and someone says "yeah, I work at the oil-n-go...what do you do?" "I shampoo hair." Is he some whacko with a head fettish? ew! And I was his head candy for the day? double ew? Did he video the session??? Triple ew. He didn't seem shocked by my unicorn-ness...so that's a plus. Is he going to become a hairdresser or stay a shampooer? He mixed my color, too, and it looks faboo, so I guess he knows what he's doing.
Just something to think about ladies and gents.
Yesterday I did something I've NEVER done before - I had Liz (aka most amazing master stylist EVAH) dye my eyebrows the same color as my hair. I'm not sure what's happening to me. I used to have eyebrows, I guess I still do, but they're getting lighter...or *gasp*...GRAYER (is that a word?) and becoming non-existent looking on my face. Hrmph. And with my new dark hair color I was afraid I would wash out. So she dyed them. It's so cool! I have eyebrows. But then, then I had too much eyebrow. I mean, it wasn't a unibrow or anything, but they were just...too much. So today I had them waxed. Hooray!
Now I'm a whole new person!
I can turn my head, thanks to the gifted hands of Natalie,
I have faboo hair thanks to Liz and shampoo man,
I can wear sandals thanks to non-English speaking Asian man at the nail place,
and I have fantastically shaped eyebrows thanks to some chick down the street who could fit me in.
It's brilliant.
I know it takes a village to raise a child...apparently it takes a village and an entire week of lunch hours to make me look like a girl. Who knew?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
It's my bicentennial!!
200 posts, babies...2-0-0...Oh 200 zero zero party's over oops out of time...
AND it's my birthday week!
AND there are motorcycles or 4-wheelers or something backfiring at me....ye.......wha? Yeah, there's a motorcycle dealer behind my building. Every now and again they test drive the 4-wheelers by peeling out in the empty parking lot right outside my window. Nice.
So Tuesday was my birthday - congrats to all of you who were on top of your game and calling and emailing BEFORE I posted and reminded the world that it was my birthday. And for those of you that forgot - well - you suck! No, I'm just kidding...you don't suck...you were just busy, I get it. You ran out of gas, had a flat tire, didn't have money for cab fare...an old friend came in from out of town, someone stole your car, there was an earthquake, a terrible flood...locusts! It wasn't your fault! Better luck next year.
I went for a mani and a pedi with the lovely Laura - who also forgot, but was quickly reminded when I called her to go get our toes done. AND she paid for the mani part of my mani/pedi. Brilliant! Thanks Laura!
Yesterday found me in so much pain I couldn't turn my head. ugh. Back to square one. WHY??? Why am I in pain? What did I do? Is it the new fake Coach shoulderbag? Am I paying for crimes against name brands? Or shoulder straps? Was it the extended ride on the bike with the Kev-head on Monday night? He did hit a few choice bumps that I felt in my hair that night...yeouch. Was it the pastry-filled bowling bag stress? So I went and got a massage. This girl had magic in her hands, I swear. I *heart* Natalie...I'm not afraid to say it. Lemme sign my new name. Mrs. Natalie. Mrs. Rebecca Natalie....
Now TODAY I have a hair appt. Hooray! I'm going to be a brunette by 4pm. Double hooray! The problem? I can't really move my head...and there's that whole leaning back in the sink thing when they wash your hair. I'm not sure how that's going to happen exactly. One girl here at the office suggested I wheel over a hospital bed like contraption and they can just push a button and elevate my whole torso to the sink. Ummmmm, yeah...I don't think they have those at my salon. So I improvised that idea and decided they should wheel those massage chairs over to the sink...you know, the kind you kneel in - then I could just be face down in the sink instead of face up. BRILLIANT. Can't you just see me as they rinse the dye from my hair as it runs all over my face...instant tan! Two-for-one combo platter...I'm a genius.
So mani/pedi on Tuesday, massage Wednesday, hair appt. Thursday...what should I do tomorrow for my birthday week???
AND it's my birthday week!
AND there are motorcycles or 4-wheelers or something backfiring at me....ye.......wha? Yeah, there's a motorcycle dealer behind my building. Every now and again they test drive the 4-wheelers by peeling out in the empty parking lot right outside my window. Nice.
So Tuesday was my birthday - congrats to all of you who were on top of your game and calling and emailing BEFORE I posted and reminded the world that it was my birthday. And for those of you that forgot - well - you suck! No, I'm just kidding...you don't suck...you were just busy, I get it. You ran out of gas, had a flat tire, didn't have money for cab fare...an old friend came in from out of town, someone stole your car, there was an earthquake, a terrible flood...locusts! It wasn't your fault! Better luck next year.
I went for a mani and a pedi with the lovely Laura - who also forgot, but was quickly reminded when I called her to go get our toes done. AND she paid for the mani part of my mani/pedi. Brilliant! Thanks Laura!
Yesterday found me in so much pain I couldn't turn my head. ugh. Back to square one. WHY??? Why am I in pain? What did I do? Is it the new fake Coach shoulderbag? Am I paying for crimes against name brands? Or shoulder straps? Was it the extended ride on the bike with the Kev-head on Monday night? He did hit a few choice bumps that I felt in my hair that night...yeouch. Was it the pastry-filled bowling bag stress? So I went and got a massage. This girl had magic in her hands, I swear. I *heart* Natalie...I'm not afraid to say it. Lemme sign my new name. Mrs. Natalie. Mrs. Rebecca Natalie....
Now TODAY I have a hair appt. Hooray! I'm going to be a brunette by 4pm. Double hooray! The problem? I can't really move my head...and there's that whole leaning back in the sink thing when they wash your hair. I'm not sure how that's going to happen exactly. One girl here at the office suggested I wheel over a hospital bed like contraption and they can just push a button and elevate my whole torso to the sink. Ummmmm, yeah...I don't think they have those at my salon. So I improvised that idea and decided they should wheel those massage chairs over to the sink...you know, the kind you kneel in - then I could just be face down in the sink instead of face up. BRILLIANT. Can't you just see me as they rinse the dye from my hair as it runs all over my face...instant tan! Two-for-one combo platter...I'm a genius.
So mani/pedi on Tuesday, massage Wednesday, hair appt. Thursday...what should I do tomorrow for my birthday week???
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Ba-na-na-na-na-na You say it's MY birthday...
Yes it is...the big 36...here's lookin' at you, 40, because I'm closer to 40 than I am to 30...how friggin' depressing.
So Saturday of Bowling Weekend found the girls and I at the college football hall of fame. We were short one girl, who was too hungover to leave the room. Whoops...guess she can't hang with the big dogs...what? I'm a weenie, too? Yes...okay...you got me. Could have just as easily have been me in that bed all day. Our poor Misty-9er sacrificed herself for the team. Thanks Misty! So the four of us hit the trail.
First - there are no nice people in South Bend. We were greeted on Friday by the crankiest desk person EVAH, who was screaming at co-workers and slamming down phones. Brilliant.
Second - the bartender said we were the funnest people ever at the bowling alley. Ordinarily I'm used to hearing this...but considering the competition, it wasn't much of a compliment. She says no one ever really has fun in there. uuuuummmmmmm, what? whodawa? OMG, lady, come to our bowling alley - it's like a carnival compared to this death march you call a lounge.
So off we go to the CFHOF...Owen had already pimped out the place as the most fun place...so I had high expectations. Well lemme tell ya, they have a section where you can train like the football players, and that involved a SCALE. That's one thing you don't present to women who are trying to have fun. A SCALE - for you know...weight. Ummmm, ick. I did step on, and I was officially depressed. What did I need? To run in place. We each took a turn. I got 68 steps in 30 seconds. That almost sounds impressive, until you realize the point placement...yeah, I think I
got one point for my effort. On to field goal kicking! YES! I can totally do this, right? It can't possibly be as hard as it looks, right?
WRONG. Yes, that's me, trying to kick a field goal. Notice the form, the grace...the heels. Yeah, that's right - HEELS. We all were wearing heels...and trying to kick field goals. Excellent. The ball never left the ground. Zero hang time. No lift. Sounds like my chest at 36. Chick-chick-boom! (mra3=dork)
Then there was the "extras" room - the stuff that isn't football, but college football wouldn't be the same without it. The marching bands, the cheerleaders, the homecoming queens!
I'd like to thank my court, because you SUCK and I WON!! ha!
And then we were onto the field for some real foottball action. Yes, we're playing with a purse, we didn't have a football! I found out after the fact from Owen that if we'd gone in and ASKED, they would have given us one to borrow. Somehow this was more fun.
The snap is good! Ryan's in motion...TOUCHDOWN!!!! Yeah, babies!!! So that's day two in a nutshell. Happy Birthday to me! On to Wagner's ribs tonight...mmmmmmmmmmm.
So Saturday of Bowling Weekend found the girls and I at the college football hall of fame. We were short one girl, who was too hungover to leave the room. Whoops...guess she can't hang with the big dogs...what? I'm a weenie, too? Yes...okay...you got me. Could have just as easily have been me in that bed all day. Our poor Misty-9er sacrificed herself for the team. Thanks Misty! So the four of us hit the trail.
First - there are no nice people in South Bend. We were greeted on Friday by the crankiest desk person EVAH, who was screaming at co-workers and slamming down phones. Brilliant.
Second - the bartender said we were the funnest people ever at the bowling alley. Ordinarily I'm used to hearing this...but considering the competition, it wasn't much of a compliment. She says no one ever really has fun in there. uuuuummmmmmm, what? whodawa? OMG, lady, come to our bowling alley - it's like a carnival compared to this death march you call a lounge.
So off we go to the CFHOF...Owen had already pimped out the place as the most fun place...so I had high expectations. Well lemme tell ya, they have a section where you can train like the football players, and that involved a SCALE. That's one thing you don't present to women who are trying to have fun. A SCALE - for you know...weight. Ummmm, ick. I did step on, and I was officially depressed. What did I need? To run in place. We each took a turn. I got 68 steps in 30 seconds. That almost sounds impressive, until you realize the point placement...yeah, I think I
got one point for my effort. On to field goal kicking! YES! I can totally do this, right? It can't possibly be as hard as it looks, right?
WRONG. Yes, that's me, trying to kick a field goal. Notice the form, the grace...the heels. Yeah, that's right - HEELS. We all were wearing heels...and trying to kick field goals. Excellent. The ball never left the ground. Zero hang time. No lift. Sounds like my chest at 36. Chick-chick-boom! (mra3=dork)
Then there was the "extras" room - the stuff that isn't football, but college football wouldn't be the same without it. The marching bands, the cheerleaders, the homecoming queens!
I'd like to thank my court, because you SUCK and I WON!! ha!And then we were onto the field for some real foottball action. Yes, we're playing with a purse, we didn't have a football! I found out after the fact from Owen that if we'd gone in and ASKED, they would have given us one to borrow. Somehow this was more fun.
The snap is good! Ryan's in motion...TOUCHDOWN!!!! Yeah, babies!!! So that's day two in a nutshell. Happy Birthday to me! On to Wagner's ribs tonight...mmmmmmmmmmm.
Monday, March 26, 2007
The agony of defeat...
Yes...it's true - I went to the state bowling competition. I didn't expect to win, hell, I didn't even expect to place. I did expect to not embarrass myself. That, my friends, did not happen.
We get to South Bend, check in, get to the alley with plenty of time to spare. Beautiful. They asked me for my member card. I don't have one. Nor do I ever remember seeing one. This is a problem. The other girls have theirs, I don't have mine. Bugger. I knew this going in. The problem is, the USBC chick, doesn't have my name in the system anywhere. According to her I have not been sanctioned - paid no fees..."have you bowled 21 games?" Ummmm, YEAH - 3 games every Thursday for 28 weeks, yeah, I've bowled 21 - even with the nights I missed.
So I get the league secretary on the phone. She gives me my sanction number. I go back to USBC chick - she looks up my number. Oh, she says...here it is. Oh, I say - I'm Rebecca Chum. Yeah, that's right...CHUM...you know a fish, a salmon....I'm chummy....chum-chum-chum-chum. OMG - so after 20 minutes of me FREAKING OUT because they weren't going to let me bowl because I'm not a sanctioned bowler - I find out that I'm fine, just as long as I bowl under an assumed name. Brilliant.
But now that's all settled, right? I'm good to go, right? Time to grab a cocktail and get in bowling mode. I join my team in the bar - they're very cordial to their new teammate Mrs. Chum. I come out of the bar, put my shoes on and open up my bag to grab my towel, my ball and my shoe covers.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
WHAT HAS TAKEN OVER MY BOWLING BAG?????
Hmmmmm, it seems I forgot...I forgot the butter braids I put in my bag the night before. The cream cheese and cherry butter braids I had bought for some fundraiser from a teammate at the bowling alley. I put them in my bag to take home. And then forgot about them. FORGOT. Ummm, yeah, the idea is that when these things THAW, the yeast activates and they EXPAND. When they expand they explode from their wrappers filling my bag with yummy pastry, cream cheese and cherry goodness. I bowl in 15 minutes and my ball, my towel and my shoe covers are chock full of cream cheese and cherry filling. at state. STATE. I'm supposed to bowl 6 games and my ball is covered in cream cheese. This is not good.
I station myself near the garbage can, use my towel to clean as much of it as I can and then throw it away - no sense even washing it at this point. Shoe covers? Garbage. Luckily there was a spray bottle of something and a towel hanging on the garbage can, I used it to clean the remaining braid filling off my ball. I wanted to cry.
I bowled my singles and my doubles games that night...
Doubles... 143,109,117
Singles... 167,142,127
My knee - the one I had surgery on 17 years ago - yeah, that started swelling and hurting like a mutha for no good reason either. During game 2 of my singles deal my foot stuck to the floor causing me to fall on my knees...OVER THE FOUL LINE. Awesome...wait...it gets better...I threw a strike. That didn't count. My only consolation is that even with that strike I wouldn't have had my 500 series. Whatever.
Team bowling on Sunday we won't even discuss. It was like I'd never bowled before. I didn't even record my scores because my series total was like a 350. Brilliant.
OMG - so...there's more to tell from this weekend, but that's all you get for now. We got a little tipsy on Friday night and had a great time....that's all I have to say about that.
We get to South Bend, check in, get to the alley with plenty of time to spare. Beautiful. They asked me for my member card. I don't have one. Nor do I ever remember seeing one. This is a problem. The other girls have theirs, I don't have mine. Bugger. I knew this going in. The problem is, the USBC chick, doesn't have my name in the system anywhere. According to her I have not been sanctioned - paid no fees..."have you bowled 21 games?" Ummmm, YEAH - 3 games every Thursday for 28 weeks, yeah, I've bowled 21 - even with the nights I missed.
So I get the league secretary on the phone. She gives me my sanction number. I go back to USBC chick - she looks up my number. Oh, she says...here it is. Oh, I say - I'm Rebecca Chum. Yeah, that's right...CHUM...you know a fish, a salmon....I'm chummy....chum-chum-chum-chum. OMG - so after 20 minutes of me FREAKING OUT because they weren't going to let me bowl because I'm not a sanctioned bowler - I find out that I'm fine, just as long as I bowl under an assumed name. Brilliant.
But now that's all settled, right? I'm good to go, right? Time to grab a cocktail and get in bowling mode. I join my team in the bar - they're very cordial to their new teammate Mrs. Chum. I come out of the bar, put my shoes on and open up my bag to grab my towel, my ball and my shoe covers.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
WHAT HAS TAKEN OVER MY BOWLING BAG?????
Hmmmmm, it seems I forgot...I forgot the butter braids I put in my bag the night before. The cream cheese and cherry butter braids I had bought for some fundraiser from a teammate at the bowling alley. I put them in my bag to take home. And then forgot about them. FORGOT. Ummm, yeah, the idea is that when these things THAW, the yeast activates and they EXPAND. When they expand they explode from their wrappers filling my bag with yummy pastry, cream cheese and cherry goodness. I bowl in 15 minutes and my ball, my towel and my shoe covers are chock full of cream cheese and cherry filling. at state. STATE. I'm supposed to bowl 6 games and my ball is covered in cream cheese. This is not good.
I station myself near the garbage can, use my towel to clean as much of it as I can and then throw it away - no sense even washing it at this point. Shoe covers? Garbage. Luckily there was a spray bottle of something and a towel hanging on the garbage can, I used it to clean the remaining braid filling off my ball. I wanted to cry.
I bowled my singles and my doubles games that night...
Doubles... 143,109,117
Singles... 167,142,127
My knee - the one I had surgery on 17 years ago - yeah, that started swelling and hurting like a mutha for no good reason either. During game 2 of my singles deal my foot stuck to the floor causing me to fall on my knees...OVER THE FOUL LINE. Awesome...wait...it gets better...I threw a strike. That didn't count. My only consolation is that even with that strike I wouldn't have had my 500 series. Whatever.
Team bowling on Sunday we won't even discuss. It was like I'd never bowled before. I didn't even record my scores because my series total was like a 350. Brilliant.
OMG - so...there's more to tell from this weekend, but that's all you get for now. We got a little tipsy on Friday night and had a great time....that's all I have to say about that.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Holiday....celebrate...
So this is the "big weekend" - state bowling babies! The girls and I are off to lovely South Bend to compete against other chicks with balls - bowling balls, that is. I have my camera and should come back with a fistful of new stories to share. I'm sure I'll have friends before my team has seats. And I'll blog about them and invite them to the blog and it'll be GREAT.
I've heard that beer is pretty good...I might give that a try this weekend, too.
I'm taking off shortly...camera...check...CD with special songs for the weekend...check...ipod full of every other fun song we could want...check...speakers...check...cell phone charger...check...bowling bag...check...kids schedules taken care of...check. I'm outta here. You guys have a good weekend. Think good thoughts for me that I don't choke in front of people. I've been bowling well lately, I'd like to keep that up.
I've heard that beer is pretty good...I might give that a try this weekend, too.
I'm taking off shortly...camera...check...CD with special songs for the weekend...check...ipod full of every other fun song we could want...check...speakers...check...cell phone charger...check...bowling bag...check...kids schedules taken care of...check. I'm outta here. You guys have a good weekend. Think good thoughts for me that I don't choke in front of people. I've been bowling well lately, I'd like to keep that up.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
One chair to rule them all...
So the-man-who-signs-my-paycheck has back problems. Has for sometime now...and he bought a really cool ergonomic chair that I love a couple years back. But the back problems continue. Rumor has it he really hurt himself playing Dance Dance Revolution. I would have paid money to see that. So he's been going through the sadistic torture ritual of physical therapy and we've been swapping stories. Since then, he's purchased yet another ergo chair. He told me this before it came, and I was really excited to see the new purchase.
Well, it's here. And boy is it something...ready...
Yeah. That's it. He's sitting on an inflatable ball. INFLATABLE BALL people. It looks like he's hatching something. It's hysterical! And how about this ad?? Does that chick look possessed or is it just me? It's supposed to be the bees knees. It's supposed to force you to sit up straight, keep both feet flat on the floor, because if not, you will roll right off the sucker. He let me sit in it. It wasn't bad, but I don't know if I could do it for a whole day, and definitely not a whole week. Sometimes I like to come back to my desk and plop down. Can you imagine? I would bounce right out the door.
He says it's like getting an ab workout just because you have to suck in and sit up when you're using it. I'm seriously considering purchasing one. I'll keep you posted...
Well, it's here. And boy is it something...ready...
Yeah. That's it. He's sitting on an inflatable ball. INFLATABLE BALL people. It looks like he's hatching something. It's hysterical! And how about this ad?? Does that chick look possessed or is it just me? It's supposed to be the bees knees. It's supposed to force you to sit up straight, keep both feet flat on the floor, because if not, you will roll right off the sucker. He let me sit in it. It wasn't bad, but I don't know if I could do it for a whole day, and definitely not a whole week. Sometimes I like to come back to my desk and plop down. Can you imagine? I would bounce right out the door.He says it's like getting an ab workout just because you have to suck in and sit up when you're using it. I'm seriously considering purchasing one. I'll keep you posted...
Monday, March 19, 2007
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say...
And so little time. As you might have guessed from my lack of posting, I was busy as a bee last week. So glad THAT's over. Phew! Working at work? Whodathunk? This week isn't looking any better actually, but I thought I would take a minute and introduce you to...
my family.
Ah yes...the family portrait. I had the first one...FIRST ONE taken for the church directory this year. I was very excited about it. And here it is...
Doesn't it look sweet? Isn't it nice. I mean, it's not the best...but it'll do. Jen says I look too fake. She CLEARLY doesn't understand how much I hate myself in pictures...that's a good smile for me. My eyes are open. The boys have their hair cut now, so they don't even look like that anymore. But.it'll.do! What? What's that? Oh yeah...it won't do. Because I'm not showing you the whole picture. On purpose. You see...if I show you the whole picture, you'll laugh. If I show you the whole picture...well...here goes...
Ummmmm, yeah...that would be my husband's hand ON MY ASS in the church directory photo. On...my...ass. Seriously? Seriously...did they pose all the families this way?? And my hands, ugh, my hands...all pudgy and dry and folded in my lap. Ew. And you can see that strange little bench we were straddling. But mostly, my husband's hand is on my ass in the church pic. Great. It just looks weird, the way he's sitting, and wholly unnatural. Oy vay.
I'd also like to take just one minute and bitch about my brackets. I was fine. FINE until the Longhorns decided to act like they've never played basketball before wasting the brilliance of Durant who should go pro next year. I picked 12 of the Sweet 16, which is good, I guess. And congrats to Scottish, the Salukis are once again in the dance...
Friggin Longhorns.
my family.
Ah yes...the family portrait. I had the first one...FIRST ONE taken for the church directory this year. I was very excited about it. And here it is...
Doesn't it look sweet? Isn't it nice. I mean, it's not the best...but it'll do. Jen says I look too fake. She CLEARLY doesn't understand how much I hate myself in pictures...that's a good smile for me. My eyes are open. The boys have their hair cut now, so they don't even look like that anymore. But.it'll.do! What? What's that? Oh yeah...it won't do. Because I'm not showing you the whole picture. On purpose. You see...if I show you the whole picture, you'll laugh. If I show you the whole picture...well...here goes...
Ummmmm, yeah...that would be my husband's hand ON MY ASS in the church directory photo. On...my...ass. Seriously? Seriously...did they pose all the families this way?? And my hands, ugh, my hands...all pudgy and dry and folded in my lap. Ew. And you can see that strange little bench we were straddling. But mostly, my husband's hand is on my ass in the church pic. Great. It just looks weird, the way he's sitting, and wholly unnatural. Oy vay.I'd also like to take just one minute and bitch about my brackets. I was fine. FINE until the Longhorns decided to act like they've never played basketball before wasting the brilliance of Durant who should go pro next year. I picked 12 of the Sweet 16, which is good, I guess. And congrats to Scottish, the Salukis are once again in the dance...
Friggin Longhorns.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Happy anniversary...
happy anniversary
happy anniversary
HAA-ppy anniversary
(circa The Flinstones...)
It's been a YEAR...a full friggin year of blogging, folks...194 episodes of pure, unadulterated nonsense. I've lasted more than most sit-coms. We've pretty much covered every topic, haven't we? Booze, shoes, kids, crazy parents, husbands, vacations, booze, food, music, movies, swearing, booze, current events...
It's been quite a year, looking back. I like having this blog around, it helps me remember what the heck I've been up to.
It's also JBrave's husband's birthday. He doesn't ever come out here, not even to lurk...but I have to acknowledge the guy's birthday anyway because he's Julie's hubby and I've known him for what? 25 years? That deserves a little shout out, I guess. So happy birthday to Chris!
Now on to more important topics...no time to revel in the anniversariness of the day.
My husband, well, he's upgrading...trading in on a newer model. Not ME you sillies...the bike...the Harley. Yeah, I've had this blog longer than he's had that bike, but it's time for bigger and apparently better. Meet the new little woman. She's a 2007 Harley Davidson Road King Classic. (insert Tim Allen man-noises here)
Yes, this is the color he's getting. Yes, he's getting the white-walls. She's a beauty, and she better be a keeper, by golly, because I'm not doing this again. I cannot, repeat CANNOT talk about bikes and money and money for bikes any any any more. It's exhausting. And truthfully. I DON'T CARE. Do not care. Anymore than he wants to hear me prattle on about shoes, I cannot listen to him prattle on about chrome this and engine that and blah-blah-blah-cakes. He should be picking it up as I type this, I don't know if he'll stop by with it or not.
My complaint about this bike? There is no graceful way to get on the sucker. I tried. In the showroom. In front of people. It wasn't pretty. I almost fell. It's like mounting a friggin' horse, it's so big. (That's what SHE said...chick-chick-boom! mra3=dork) So I have a vision in my head of me trying to climb on this bad boy at some bike event and looking even more like an idiot than I already do at these things. All the real biker chicks will be pointing and laughing at the newbie. Wouldn't be the first time.
Wanna hear a joke as told by the Pastor at Alex's confirmation class last night?
How do you make Holy Water?
You boil the hell out of it.
Thank you - thank you - I'll be here all week, try the veal.
Well, it's been a great year - anxious to see what happens THIS year. With the hubby managing Owen's baseball team, wine tastings, fabulous beach vacation the sequel and Alex starting high school...it's sure to be a doozy.
happy anniversary
HAA-ppy anniversary
(circa The Flinstones...)
It's been a YEAR...a full friggin year of blogging, folks...194 episodes of pure, unadulterated nonsense. I've lasted more than most sit-coms. We've pretty much covered every topic, haven't we? Booze, shoes, kids, crazy parents, husbands, vacations, booze, food, music, movies, swearing, booze, current events...
It's been quite a year, looking back. I like having this blog around, it helps me remember what the heck I've been up to.
It's also JBrave's husband's birthday. He doesn't ever come out here, not even to lurk...but I have to acknowledge the guy's birthday anyway because he's Julie's hubby and I've known him for what? 25 years? That deserves a little shout out, I guess. So happy birthday to Chris!
Now on to more important topics...no time to revel in the anniversariness of the day.
My husband, well, he's upgrading...trading in on a newer model. Not ME you sillies...the bike...the Harley. Yeah, I've had this blog longer than he's had that bike, but it's time for bigger and apparently better. Meet the new little woman. She's a 2007 Harley Davidson Road King Classic. (insert Tim Allen man-noises here)
Yes, this is the color he's getting. Yes, he's getting the white-walls. She's a beauty, and she better be a keeper, by golly, because I'm not doing this again. I cannot, repeat CANNOT talk about bikes and money and money for bikes any any any more. It's exhausting. And truthfully. I DON'T CARE. Do not care. Anymore than he wants to hear me prattle on about shoes, I cannot listen to him prattle on about chrome this and engine that and blah-blah-blah-cakes. He should be picking it up as I type this, I don't know if he'll stop by with it or not.My complaint about this bike? There is no graceful way to get on the sucker. I tried. In the showroom. In front of people. It wasn't pretty. I almost fell. It's like mounting a friggin' horse, it's so big. (That's what SHE said...chick-chick-boom! mra3=dork) So I have a vision in my head of me trying to climb on this bad boy at some bike event and looking even more like an idiot than I already do at these things. All the real biker chicks will be pointing and laughing at the newbie. Wouldn't be the first time.
Wanna hear a joke as told by the Pastor at Alex's confirmation class last night?
How do you make Holy Water?
You boil the hell out of it.
Thank you - thank you - I'll be here all week, try the veal.
Well, it's been a great year - anxious to see what happens THIS year. With the hubby managing Owen's baseball team, wine tastings, fabulous beach vacation the sequel and Alex starting high school...it's sure to be a doozy.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The nerve of some people...
Well Friday was the big who-ha...the fandago...the fundraiser for Alex's trip. Nevermind that we basically had TWO WEEKS to form committees and plan a spaghetti dinner for 300, a silent auction and a fun fair. Awesome. I like to think I did more than my fair share. I supplied Dance Dance Revolution for the fun fair (game console, dance pads and all), baked goods for the cake walk (mandatory) and collected items from the silent auction. And then there was the spaghetti dinner - this was the committee I was actually on.
I pooled my resources...got donations from the community to help offset our costs. Made plenty of phone calls - faxed many letters. Printed the "thank you" place mats. The gal who was leading our committee was great - nice as pie and told me that some women, who work at the school, are "caterers" and "offered to help." I put all of this in quotes for a reason.
When I get there after work the hall looks great - tables are set, some people are eating, spaghetti is cooking. My job? Greet the peeps and take their money. BRILLIANT! Then the place fills up...FILLS UP and we are...out of pasta. Ya know how they say a watched pot never boils? Well, lemme tell ya - when you have 100 pairs of eyes on that pot it takes even loooooonger. LONGER. out of pasta? They didn't precook any. Whodawa? Scuse me? You are CATERERS and you didn't precook the pasta??? So I'm politely sending people away so they don't have to stand in line...you know...like the senior citizens who can barely walk the line as it is in their corrective shoes. Let's not make them stand in friggin' line. "Go check out the items in the silent auction I say" or "maybe have a cup of coffee and chat for a bit"...nice ... then we run out of pasta completely...not just the cooked stuff...all of it. And they still only have the one pot on a 10 burner stove boiling away.
I politely make a couple of suggestions to the kitchen about re-using the water so it won't take as long to boil - met with angry stares.
After we run out of pasta for the 3rd time, and we're running out to buy more pasta for the 2nd time, and let's remember that I'm the one out front dealing with the disgruntled masses, trying to smile and make it seem like we've got it all under control - well, I've had it.
I go back to the kitchen fill two more pots and put them on the stove. Mumbling from the professionals. I square up, look at them and say "you can say whatever you want about me, but when she gets back, I'd like to have some boiling water for her to put that pasta in."
Needless to say I was a "bitch" and a few other choice words they mumbled under their breath. She told me to get out of her kitchen. I told her that when she was ready to go out and tell the 75-year-old woman who has been standing in a line for 30 minutes why a caterer can't boil more than one pot of water at a time, I'd be happy to leave. Until then, shut your pie-hole.
Okay, maybe I didn't say THAT. But I held my ground. She told me I was starting shit. I told her the only thing I was starting was boiling water on the stove. It was labeled the worst spaghetti dinner ever. EVER. And they've been doing this for 20 years.
I have a plan for Owen's year. I will redeem myself!!!!
ETA: OMG OMG OMG - so Alex went to his friend's house after school, and friend's dad was outside working on the car when I pulled up to get him after work. Says to me "I hear there were some problems in the kitchen on Friday" "Yeah, it was a little hectic" "I heard there was a rather loud altercation..." I'm hearing things like this a lot about this event. Someone told me that people were COMING DOWN FROM THE FUN FAIR TO SEE THE DRAMA IN THE KITCHEN. I guess that drama was me and supposed-caterer lady. Great. I wonder what kind of rep I have now, because SPL works at the school, so she can spin this any way she wants. Lovely.
I pooled my resources...got donations from the community to help offset our costs. Made plenty of phone calls - faxed many letters. Printed the "thank you" place mats. The gal who was leading our committee was great - nice as pie and told me that some women, who work at the school, are "caterers" and "offered to help." I put all of this in quotes for a reason.
When I get there after work the hall looks great - tables are set, some people are eating, spaghetti is cooking. My job? Greet the peeps and take their money. BRILLIANT! Then the place fills up...FILLS UP and we are...out of pasta. Ya know how they say a watched pot never boils? Well, lemme tell ya - when you have 100 pairs of eyes on that pot it takes even loooooonger. LONGER. out of pasta? They didn't precook any. Whodawa? Scuse me? You are CATERERS and you didn't precook the pasta??? So I'm politely sending people away so they don't have to stand in line...you know...like the senior citizens who can barely walk the line as it is in their corrective shoes. Let's not make them stand in friggin' line. "Go check out the items in the silent auction I say" or "maybe have a cup of coffee and chat for a bit"...nice ... then we run out of pasta completely...not just the cooked stuff...all of it. And they still only have the one pot on a 10 burner stove boiling away.
I politely make a couple of suggestions to the kitchen about re-using the water so it won't take as long to boil - met with angry stares.
After we run out of pasta for the 3rd time, and we're running out to buy more pasta for the 2nd time, and let's remember that I'm the one out front dealing with the disgruntled masses, trying to smile and make it seem like we've got it all under control - well, I've had it.
I go back to the kitchen fill two more pots and put them on the stove. Mumbling from the professionals. I square up, look at them and say "you can say whatever you want about me, but when she gets back, I'd like to have some boiling water for her to put that pasta in."
Needless to say I was a "bitch" and a few other choice words they mumbled under their breath. She told me to get out of her kitchen. I told her that when she was ready to go out and tell the 75-year-old woman who has been standing in a line for 30 minutes why a caterer can't boil more than one pot of water at a time, I'd be happy to leave. Until then, shut your pie-hole.
Okay, maybe I didn't say THAT. But I held my ground. She told me I was starting shit. I told her the only thing I was starting was boiling water on the stove. It was labeled the worst spaghetti dinner ever. EVER. And they've been doing this for 20 years.
I have a plan for Owen's year. I will redeem myself!!!!
ETA: OMG OMG OMG - so Alex went to his friend's house after school, and friend's dad was outside working on the car when I pulled up to get him after work. Says to me "I hear there were some problems in the kitchen on Friday" "Yeah, it was a little hectic" "I heard there was a rather loud altercation..." I'm hearing things like this a lot about this event. Someone told me that people were COMING DOWN FROM THE FUN FAIR TO SEE THE DRAMA IN THE KITCHEN. I guess that drama was me and supposed-caterer lady. Great. I wonder what kind of rep I have now, because SPL works at the school, so she can spin this any way she wants. Lovely.
Monday, March 12, 2007
You got punk'd!
HA!
Okay, so awhile ago I got this phone call from a business associate asking me if I wanted a free lunch. Ummm, yeah, have you met me? OF COURSE I want a free friggin' lunch. And then she says it involves a favor. Now hold on just one second - a favor makes this lunch notsofree. What is the favor?
Well, let me tell you how it played out.
Yesterday I go to said business associates daughter's bridal shower. Do I know the daughter? No. Does she know me? No. And when I get there, Nancy is pretending not to know me either. Perfect. I take a seat in the middle of the room. A nice lady, Denise, is kind enough to sit with me because I don't know anyone. Charming.
The bride comes by - ummmm, I don't think I know you. Yeah, you don't. My husband is a friend of your fiance. Really? she says. How does he know him? I have no idea, I said...I was just given an invitation and told to come there. Really? She says - getting more confused by the minute. Fine - Denise is asking far too many questions as well - you know, those really personal questions - do you live around here? Do you know the bride or the groom? Neither - that threw her for a loop.
So there I sit, making small talk and drinking punch. The bride approaches again - what is your husband's name? I tell her - oh, so your last name is...and she thinks for a minute - oh crap, she recognizes my name. I didn't consider that. I lie. I tell her, no I don't work at such-and-such...I'm a stay at home mom. Oh, she says, confused almost to the point of panic - there must be two of you. Yes. Denise offers up that she knows someone with my name as well - hmmmmm, I say...there must be 3 of us then...hahahaha...I'm so friggin' funny.
And now it's time for my theatrics because this bride is on my like flies on shit. So I get up, approach the bride and ask her who is running the shower? My mom, she says and takes me over to introduce me to my business associate, who is pretending she doesn't know me.
Me: Hi, this is a lovely shower, but there's a problem.
BA: What's wrong?
Me: I'm at the wrong shower...
BA: WHAT?
Me: The shower I'm supposed to attend is next weekend...I don't know you or anyone else here, and I'm at the wrong shower.
BA: You're kidding me?
Both of us are now talking pretty loudly and have the attention of most of the room.
Me: I feel so awful - let me pay you for the food I ate!
I rush off to get my purse, knock it over and dump the contents all over the table. You could have heard a pin drop. The bride is actually rubbing my back at this point and telling me it's okay - "you can just stay" she says.
"NO!" I scream - "I've never been so embarrassed- I have to leave" and I now HURL the contents of my purse all over the table. Someone actually gasps...NO ONE is speaking. I gather my things, hug the bride and rush out the door. SILENCE.
BA rushes out after me - and we both die in fits of laughter - she calmly goes back into the room and says "What was in her purse?"
They don't get it.
I come back in and she introduces me, tells the room it was all a gag - and says that the game is to list the contents of my purse.
No one can believe it...I walk over to the bride-to-be, tell her I am, in fact who she thought I was and shake her hand. She is amazed...she got punk'd, at her bridal shower - for a game. Apparently I was pretty good because most of the room felt horrible for me and could not believe that someone could actually show up to the wrong shower. I ate cake, had some coffee and was on my way. One woman asked if I could do it again so they could get it on video.
Are you kidding me? You can't just recreate art!
HA!
My short stint as an actress is over...it was fun.
Okay, so awhile ago I got this phone call from a business associate asking me if I wanted a free lunch. Ummm, yeah, have you met me? OF COURSE I want a free friggin' lunch. And then she says it involves a favor. Now hold on just one second - a favor makes this lunch notsofree. What is the favor?
Well, let me tell you how it played out.
Yesterday I go to said business associates daughter's bridal shower. Do I know the daughter? No. Does she know me? No. And when I get there, Nancy is pretending not to know me either. Perfect. I take a seat in the middle of the room. A nice lady, Denise, is kind enough to sit with me because I don't know anyone. Charming.
The bride comes by - ummmm, I don't think I know you. Yeah, you don't. My husband is a friend of your fiance. Really? she says. How does he know him? I have no idea, I said...I was just given an invitation and told to come there. Really? She says - getting more confused by the minute. Fine - Denise is asking far too many questions as well - you know, those really personal questions - do you live around here? Do you know the bride or the groom? Neither - that threw her for a loop.
So there I sit, making small talk and drinking punch. The bride approaches again - what is your husband's name? I tell her - oh, so your last name is...and she thinks for a minute - oh crap, she recognizes my name. I didn't consider that. I lie. I tell her, no I don't work at such-and-such...I'm a stay at home mom. Oh, she says, confused almost to the point of panic - there must be two of you. Yes. Denise offers up that she knows someone with my name as well - hmmmmm, I say...there must be 3 of us then...hahahaha...I'm so friggin' funny.
And now it's time for my theatrics because this bride is on my like flies on shit. So I get up, approach the bride and ask her who is running the shower? My mom, she says and takes me over to introduce me to my business associate, who is pretending she doesn't know me.
Me: Hi, this is a lovely shower, but there's a problem.
BA: What's wrong?
Me: I'm at the wrong shower...
BA: WHAT?
Me: The shower I'm supposed to attend is next weekend...I don't know you or anyone else here, and I'm at the wrong shower.
BA: You're kidding me?
Both of us are now talking pretty loudly and have the attention of most of the room.
Me: I feel so awful - let me pay you for the food I ate!
I rush off to get my purse, knock it over and dump the contents all over the table. You could have heard a pin drop. The bride is actually rubbing my back at this point and telling me it's okay - "you can just stay" she says.
"NO!" I scream - "I've never been so embarrassed- I have to leave" and I now HURL the contents of my purse all over the table. Someone actually gasps...NO ONE is speaking. I gather my things, hug the bride and rush out the door. SILENCE.
BA rushes out after me - and we both die in fits of laughter - she calmly goes back into the room and says "What was in her purse?"
They don't get it.
I come back in and she introduces me, tells the room it was all a gag - and says that the game is to list the contents of my purse.
No one can believe it...I walk over to the bride-to-be, tell her I am, in fact who she thought I was and shake her hand. She is amazed...she got punk'd, at her bridal shower - for a game. Apparently I was pretty good because most of the room felt horrible for me and could not believe that someone could actually show up to the wrong shower. I ate cake, had some coffee and was on my way. One woman asked if I could do it again so they could get it on video.
Are you kidding me? You can't just recreate art!
HA!
My short stint as an actress is over...it was fun.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Danger, Will Robinson, Danger...
First, the end of the soup story - they at it. They at it all - pretty quickly actually. If anyone had complaints about it, I never heard them. 9 crock pots of soup GONE in 40 minutes. 40 MINUTES! 9 CROCK POTS!! THAT is a lot of soup! They are worried that they won't have enough soup next week and I'm not working - but - get this - I told Alex's teacher that I WOULD BRING SOUP. WHAT is wrong with me, exactly? Why do I offer up this shit? I can't stop myself. No one asked me if I could bring soup - I just volunteered myself. "Well...this is on my way home, and even though I'm not working I guess I could drop off some soup." And then I thought to myself - DUH! The working isn't actually the HARD part - it's MAKING THE FUCKING SOUP. Sweet Jesus in a crock pot - it's a condition I have and it's a problem. I should be medicated...or studied...or both.
Didja see today's news? Apparently a couple of 6th graders had sex in shop class - yeah, that's what I said...6th graders. The administration didn't tell anyone it happened, I'm assuming they punished the kids involved...but they didn't send home a notice to all the parents saying "Hey, we had an incident..." - and the parents are outraged. OUTRAGED because it happened 4 months ago and they are just now finding out. Huh. I don't get it. I'm sure punishable offenses happen all the time at middle school - but I don't think the school is under any sort of obligation to write home every time. I think all of the parents of the kids in that class should have been informed, depending on what they witnessed. Part of what people were saying is that it only lasted 30 seconds. However unimpressive, I don't think the longevity of the act has any bearing on the magnitude of the incident.
I mean, does the school have to inform all parents every time there's a fight? Or there's an incident on a bus? Or they find drugs in someone's locker? Did this really warrant a schoolwide informational letter?
But the part that concerns me is that the Attorney for the Indiana Dept. of Education said that "the kids weren't in any danger." Not in any danger?? Not in any physical danger, maybe - but I think any 6th graders are in danger if they are not only choosing to have sex, but choosing to have sex IN CLASS. I also think the kid who was the lookout is in danger - and any kid who saw this is in danger of having their whole view of the appropriateness of sex at this age altered. This whole situation is dangerous...and PS - the teacher was IN THE ROOM. For those of you who went to Liberty - can you friggin' imagine having sex - in Mr. Bike's class? Wasn't that his name...the old guy who wore the lab coat. Remember him? CAN YOU EVEN FATHOM THIS???
And they are saying that they "had sex" not that they had "oral sex" - we're talking full on intercourse here, people. WTF??? Joy - what would your school do? Any other teachers lurking? Any parents have an opinion?
Didja see today's news? Apparently a couple of 6th graders had sex in shop class - yeah, that's what I said...6th graders. The administration didn't tell anyone it happened, I'm assuming they punished the kids involved...but they didn't send home a notice to all the parents saying "Hey, we had an incident..." - and the parents are outraged. OUTRAGED because it happened 4 months ago and they are just now finding out. Huh. I don't get it. I'm sure punishable offenses happen all the time at middle school - but I don't think the school is under any sort of obligation to write home every time. I think all of the parents of the kids in that class should have been informed, depending on what they witnessed. Part of what people were saying is that it only lasted 30 seconds. However unimpressive, I don't think the longevity of the act has any bearing on the magnitude of the incident.
I mean, does the school have to inform all parents every time there's a fight? Or there's an incident on a bus? Or they find drugs in someone's locker? Did this really warrant a schoolwide informational letter?
But the part that concerns me is that the Attorney for the Indiana Dept. of Education said that "the kids weren't in any danger." Not in any danger?? Not in any physical danger, maybe - but I think any 6th graders are in danger if they are not only choosing to have sex, but choosing to have sex IN CLASS. I also think the kid who was the lookout is in danger - and any kid who saw this is in danger of having their whole view of the appropriateness of sex at this age altered. This whole situation is dangerous...and PS - the teacher was IN THE ROOM. For those of you who went to Liberty - can you friggin' imagine having sex - in Mr. Bike's class? Wasn't that his name...the old guy who wore the lab coat. Remember him? CAN YOU EVEN FATHOM THIS???
And they are saying that they "had sex" not that they had "oral sex" - we're talking full on intercourse here, people. WTF??? Joy - what would your school do? Any other teachers lurking? Any parents have an opinion?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The soup story, volume II
So I couldn't do it...I couldn't lie. Those of you who know me know that I can't lie to save my life anyway, so to lie, to the Lutherans...to their faces, about the soup - wasn't going to happen. I thought I could make a go of it, but as soon as I got there, someone asked me for my recipe. Ummm, recipe? Yeah...now where did I put that recipe? Hmmmm...
Lemon-rice soup recipe:
1. Get out crock pot.
2. Go to Pappas Family Restaurant
3. Order quarts of soup
4. Gently (and this is important) pour the soup into the crock pot with minimal splatter on your work clothes.
5. Turn on crock pot.
6. Serve!
They couldn't have cared less. It was gone in 10 minutes...everyone loved my secret lemon-rice soup. BRILLIANT.
It's Wednesday...again...and I'm supposed to be bringing soup...again. Well - I haven't had a moment of downtime since I got home. Some of you might argue that I could have made soup on Monday night instead of having wine with my girlfriends who stopped by after the school board meeting ten different shades of pissed off. I couldn't! I had to make the chips & salsa that I learned how to make at my knife skills class! I mean, I had to feed them, right? What kind of hostess would I be??? It was bad enough I made them sit there and watch me put away groceries while we chatted...I couldn't have them starving, too.
So today, new plan...new lie. I can totally do this. Except, the soup might suck. I bought some powdered broccoli/cheese soup package ... just add water! And it's in the crock pot right now cooking away. But here's the kicker. I needed hot water. And we don't have a stove here, so I used the hot water from the coffee maker. And YES, I just pushed the brew button and let it fill up a coffee pot of hot water and poured it into the soup mix. The real problem? I didn't want to use the filter basket because that TOTALLY reeks like coffee. The pots are fine, but the filter basket? Smells the like coffee past and it's not good. But if you don't use the filter basket, the water kind of sprays everywhere...and not in the coffee pot. So I put some clean filters in there and I tasted the water...it didn't taste like coffee....so I think I'm good.
Seriously? I'm serving coffee-broccoli-cheese soup to the Lutherans tonight. I'm even more pathetic than last week. I didn't sign up for next week's supper. Phew! I'll let you know how it goes.
Lemon-rice soup recipe:
1. Get out crock pot.
2. Go to Pappas Family Restaurant
3. Order quarts of soup
4. Gently (and this is important) pour the soup into the crock pot with minimal splatter on your work clothes.
5. Turn on crock pot.
6. Serve!
They couldn't have cared less. It was gone in 10 minutes...everyone loved my secret lemon-rice soup. BRILLIANT.
It's Wednesday...again...and I'm supposed to be bringing soup...again. Well - I haven't had a moment of downtime since I got home. Some of you might argue that I could have made soup on Monday night instead of having wine with my girlfriends who stopped by after the school board meeting ten different shades of pissed off. I couldn't! I had to make the chips & salsa that I learned how to make at my knife skills class! I mean, I had to feed them, right? What kind of hostess would I be??? It was bad enough I made them sit there and watch me put away groceries while we chatted...I couldn't have them starving, too.
So today, new plan...new lie. I can totally do this. Except, the soup might suck. I bought some powdered broccoli/cheese soup package ... just add water! And it's in the crock pot right now cooking away. But here's the kicker. I needed hot water. And we don't have a stove here, so I used the hot water from the coffee maker. And YES, I just pushed the brew button and let it fill up a coffee pot of hot water and poured it into the soup mix. The real problem? I didn't want to use the filter basket because that TOTALLY reeks like coffee. The pots are fine, but the filter basket? Smells the like coffee past and it's not good. But if you don't use the filter basket, the water kind of sprays everywhere...and not in the coffee pot. So I put some clean filters in there and I tasted the water...it didn't taste like coffee....so I think I'm good.
Seriously? I'm serving coffee-broccoli-cheese soup to the Lutherans tonight. I'm even more pathetic than last week. I didn't sign up for next week's supper. Phew! I'll let you know how it goes.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Memories...like the corners of my mind...
Misty water-colored memories...
of the way we were....
Sing it Barbara!
So I went to PA this weekend to visit Carol - who is faring mahvelously, btw. She is kicking chemo's ass, making it her bitch...all of those powerful macho sayings you can think of. She looks great, she's feeling mostly good...we had a great weekend. Mostly I was there for entertainment, and entertain I did.
Thursday night we watched Idol eliminations and Are you smarter than a 5th grader (ummm, no.) and Nashville Star. Coolest thing on Idol EVER - when Leslie was doing her sing-out, she changed the lyrics to "Why on earth did I scat" "America doesn't like jazz" or something like that. Love that girl. Maybe they'll bring her back when they boot Antonella for her nudey pics and underage drinking....not that I agree with them booting ANYONE over that, but if you're going to ding the heavier-set black girl for the same offense, you have to nix the pretty white girl, too. The difference? Frenchie could actually SING, while Antonella is just eye candy for ... someone.
But this isn't about Idol! This is about my TRIP. This is about my entertaining skills - crazy mad skills of entertainment proportions. Friday found us at the wig store, and what a time it was! You can see my personal best on the right. I have plenty more where this came from. Long wigs, short wigs, curly wigs, straight wigs, pink wigs, two-tone wigs...you name it, we tried it on.
We got Carol's hair layered up a little more so she looks totally cute now...she felt like she looked like a boy, now she looks like a rock star. Especially since I put red highlights in both of our do's. My hairdresser is going to have a heart attack.
Driving through Mon Valley, however was just a little depressing. You know how when you're a kid, and there are things that are just, just...well, cool. Places you've been, things you've seen - and then you go to take YOUR kids there or share it with someone else and it's just not the same and you're like "how is my memory of this SO DIFFERENT??? I swear this mountain at this putt-putt course was taller than the Sears Tower!" Well - I had that experience a few times on this trip. One of the biggest memories of my trips to PA in my youth was the shopping Valhalla that was Gabriel Brothers - or Gabe's as we liked to lovingly call it. I can remember buying all sorts of designer goods there for nothing - NOTHING, I say. I think I even brought Jul back a shirt I bought her for like $2. I was so proud. The long and the short of it, Gabe's is a glorified bruised and reduced store - you know what I mean. Sometimes you go in and get lucky and find something for a steal. Mostly you just weed through the junk and wonder what you're doing there.
I went there in the hopes I could find a pair of sneakers. Because, well, mine are missing. Yes, it's true. Missing. I can't find them anywhere. It's been weeks, maybe months. At this point I can't remember the last time I wore them and they're just...gone. I've stopped looking and I'm just going to buy a new pair. I'm due. I bought those like 5 years ago, on sale, at Kohl's (Kohl's was having a SALE??? Shocking!) for $16. Yes...because they were breaking up with the Asics brand (they no longer sell them there for women) - I got these for a steal. And they were great. And now they're gone. Anyway...
So I went to Gabe's! The best.store.ever. The store of my youth! The store of bargains and great finds and...
hot dogs. People - I couldn't get past it. You know how you walk into a home improvement store and they're selling some sort of processed meat product and it smells so good you think "I have to hurry up and shop because I will just DIE if I don't get my hands on some processed meat with mustard and onions when I leave!!"
This was nothing like that. This was high school cafeteria meat smell. And it permeated the entire place. And it's not small...it's like warehouse huge and I was as far from the door as you could get and all I could smell were those damn dogs. Killing.me. Killing my shopping experience. And they didn't have any good kicks in my size. And they didn't have much of anything that caught my eye. I was depressed. I was lost....where was the fantastic bargain shopping of my youth where I would load up my cart while my mom smiled on???
So I grabbed some popcorn and a large fountain drink on my way out and sadly made my way back to Carol's. Maybe next time they'll have some shoes for me...or at least a belt. Something.
of the way we were....
Sing it Barbara!
So I went to PA this weekend to visit Carol - who is faring mahvelously, btw. She is kicking chemo's ass, making it her bitch...all of those powerful macho sayings you can think of. She looks great, she's feeling mostly good...we had a great weekend. Mostly I was there for entertainment, and entertain I did.
Thursday night we watched Idol eliminations and Are you smarter than a 5th grader (ummm, no.) and Nashville Star. Coolest thing on Idol EVER - when Leslie was doing her sing-out, she changed the lyrics to "Why on earth did I scat" "America doesn't like jazz" or something like that. Love that girl. Maybe they'll bring her back when they boot Antonella for her nudey pics and underage drinking....not that I agree with them booting ANYONE over that, but if you're going to ding the heavier-set black girl for the same offense, you have to nix the pretty white girl, too. The difference? Frenchie could actually SING, while Antonella is just eye candy for ... someone.
But this isn't about Idol! This is about my TRIP. This is about my entertaining skills - crazy mad skills of entertainment proportions. Friday found us at the wig store, and what a time it was! You can see my personal best on the right. I have plenty more where this came from. Long wigs, short wigs, curly wigs, straight wigs, pink wigs, two-tone wigs...you name it, we tried it on.
We got Carol's hair layered up a little more so she looks totally cute now...she felt like she looked like a boy, now she looks like a rock star. Especially since I put red highlights in both of our do's. My hairdresser is going to have a heart attack.
Driving through Mon Valley, however was just a little depressing. You know how when you're a kid, and there are things that are just, just...well, cool. Places you've been, things you've seen - and then you go to take YOUR kids there or share it with someone else and it's just not the same and you're like "how is my memory of this SO DIFFERENT??? I swear this mountain at this putt-putt course was taller than the Sears Tower!" Well - I had that experience a few times on this trip. One of the biggest memories of my trips to PA in my youth was the shopping Valhalla that was Gabriel Brothers - or Gabe's as we liked to lovingly call it. I can remember buying all sorts of designer goods there for nothing - NOTHING, I say. I think I even brought Jul back a shirt I bought her for like $2. I was so proud. The long and the short of it, Gabe's is a glorified bruised and reduced store - you know what I mean. Sometimes you go in and get lucky and find something for a steal. Mostly you just weed through the junk and wonder what you're doing there.
I went there in the hopes I could find a pair of sneakers. Because, well, mine are missing. Yes, it's true. Missing. I can't find them anywhere. It's been weeks, maybe months. At this point I can't remember the last time I wore them and they're just...gone. I've stopped looking and I'm just going to buy a new pair. I'm due. I bought those like 5 years ago, on sale, at Kohl's (Kohl's was having a SALE??? Shocking!) for $16. Yes...because they were breaking up with the Asics brand (they no longer sell them there for women) - I got these for a steal. And they were great. And now they're gone. Anyway...
So I went to Gabe's! The best.store.ever. The store of my youth! The store of bargains and great finds and...
hot dogs. People - I couldn't get past it. You know how you walk into a home improvement store and they're selling some sort of processed meat product and it smells so good you think "I have to hurry up and shop because I will just DIE if I don't get my hands on some processed meat with mustard and onions when I leave!!"
This was nothing like that. This was high school cafeteria meat smell. And it permeated the entire place. And it's not small...it's like warehouse huge and I was as far from the door as you could get and all I could smell were those damn dogs. Killing.me. Killing my shopping experience. And they didn't have any good kicks in my size. And they didn't have much of anything that caught my eye. I was depressed. I was lost....where was the fantastic bargain shopping of my youth where I would load up my cart while my mom smiled on???
So I grabbed some popcorn and a large fountain drink on my way out and sadly made my way back to Carol's. Maybe next time they'll have some shoes for me...or at least a belt. Something.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
No soup for you!
OMG - so I had this whole post typed up this morning and then something kooky happened and phhhhhht! GONE. WTF? What key combo did I come up with that scrapped what I was doing and started editing the previous post? Bizarro-world. I'm so upset. I was funny. It won't be nearly as funny now. Or maybe it will be. You didn't get the chance to read what I wrote before. Maybe I'll be even funnier! To dare to dream...
Soooooooooooo
Alex goes to a private school. And this private school just so happens to be a Lutheran school which means chapel and religion classes and priests behaving inappropriately with...wait...no...scratch that...that's Catholic school...have to wait for that one next year. The 8th graders at this school get to take an 8th grade trip to Washington, D.C. every year. Brilliant! And I get to go! MORE brilliant! This was the 8th grade trip I never took. I didn't get to go. Julie got to go. I didn't get to go. Just like my senior year trip to Paris that EVERYONE ELSE in my 4th year French class got to take - but not me. Even though I would have been taking a boat tour down the Seine on my BIRTHDAY. It's so pathetic, I think I still have the tear-stained brochure somewhere. And then there's the freshman year in college mandatory spring break trip to Florida. Never happened. My girlfriends loaded up the car and went without me. My parents said no.
So now I'm officially living vicariously through my son. Only slightly MORE pathetic would be if I said I chose this school because of this trip. I assure you I did not. But it was a fantastic perk. To go on this trip the 8th graders do fundraisers to offset the cost. One such fundraiser is the spaghetti dinner/silent auction/fun fair next Friday night. I'm selling tickets...and you're all buying them, right??? RIGHT??? Another fundraiser is hosting the Wednesday night soup dinner before Advent and Lent services. We worked a couple during Advent. I made soup, I brought soup, I ate soup, I cleaned up soup, we made money, I went home.
And now it's Lent, so I signed up for tonight's dinner. But that was before. That was before the weekend of no power. That was before I remembered that Monday night was the biggest.night.in.Scouting - the blue and gold banquet. That was before my laundry room became so overcome with dirty clothes that they formed a human body and trashed my house. That was BEFORE. And so here I sit, with no soup.
So I'm going to do the lamest thing ever. I brought my crock pot, empty as the day I bought it, and I'm going to leave here and stop at a restaurant and buy quarts of soup. I will pour it into my crock pot on the way over there and haul that baby in like I made it. Yes I will. I'm going to lie my ass off about it, too. That's right...lie to the Lutherans! LIE!
Alex knows the truth of course and thinks this is hilarious.
So which is more pathetic? My excitement over my 8th grade trip when I'm almost 36 or buying soup and passing it off as my own. It's pretty much a toss up at this point.
Soooooooooooo
Alex goes to a private school. And this private school just so happens to be a Lutheran school which means chapel and religion classes and priests behaving inappropriately with...wait...no...scratch that...that's Catholic school...have to wait for that one next year. The 8th graders at this school get to take an 8th grade trip to Washington, D.C. every year. Brilliant! And I get to go! MORE brilliant! This was the 8th grade trip I never took. I didn't get to go. Julie got to go. I didn't get to go. Just like my senior year trip to Paris that EVERYONE ELSE in my 4th year French class got to take - but not me. Even though I would have been taking a boat tour down the Seine on my BIRTHDAY. It's so pathetic, I think I still have the tear-stained brochure somewhere. And then there's the freshman year in college mandatory spring break trip to Florida. Never happened. My girlfriends loaded up the car and went without me. My parents said no.
So now I'm officially living vicariously through my son. Only slightly MORE pathetic would be if I said I chose this school because of this trip. I assure you I did not. But it was a fantastic perk. To go on this trip the 8th graders do fundraisers to offset the cost. One such fundraiser is the spaghetti dinner/silent auction/fun fair next Friday night. I'm selling tickets...and you're all buying them, right??? RIGHT??? Another fundraiser is hosting the Wednesday night soup dinner before Advent and Lent services. We worked a couple during Advent. I made soup, I brought soup, I ate soup, I cleaned up soup, we made money, I went home.
And now it's Lent, so I signed up for tonight's dinner. But that was before. That was before the weekend of no power. That was before I remembered that Monday night was the biggest.night.in.Scouting - the blue and gold banquet. That was before my laundry room became so overcome with dirty clothes that they formed a human body and trashed my house. That was BEFORE. And so here I sit, with no soup.
So I'm going to do the lamest thing ever. I brought my crock pot, empty as the day I bought it, and I'm going to leave here and stop at a restaurant and buy quarts of soup. I will pour it into my crock pot on the way over there and haul that baby in like I made it. Yes I will. I'm going to lie my ass off about it, too. That's right...lie to the Lutherans! LIE!
Alex knows the truth of course and thinks this is hilarious.
So which is more pathetic? My excitement over my 8th grade trip when I'm almost 36 or buying soup and passing it off as my own. It's pretty much a toss up at this point.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like...
Dame Helen Mirren?
Seriously - the woman is old enough to be my mother - quite literally, but did you SEE her at the Oscars? I want to be her. Right now. RIGHT.NOW. Even Kev-head was all in a tizzy about her calling her "the ultimate MILF." Move over Stifler's Mother, you have been replaced. It would take a team of hairdressers and make-up artists to get me to look half this good and I'm half her age! And I can't even TALK about the lifting it would take to get my chest to look anything close to that good in that dress. I secretly hate you Helen Mirren! No ... I love you... call me...
For those of you who don't know, I am a red carpet junkie. Award shows are my crack cocaine, and once the first of the year hits, I am in heaven straight through the Oscars. Globes, SAGs, Grammy's, Oscars...it's all a little slice of heaven.
But this year sucked ass. Why? Because there was an ice storm kiddies. And when you live in the boonies in an ice storm, no one cares that you don't have power for 24 hours. No.one.cares. And then you get power for like 30 minutes - and WHAM! right back out in the middle of your wash cycle. That sucks. It sucks even more when your generator keeps blowing fuses because you're loading it up with too much stuff, like I don't know...HEAT. And then the damn HDDVR takes 10 minutes to load. So I missed the Dreamgirls songs, I missed the shadowy acrobats forming themselves into a stiletto and I missed some critically boring awards that no one cares about. But I did see my favorite parts - the red carpet, the opening monologue (Ellen was very good this year), a bit with Al Gore (Al, I miss you and Tipper, too with her hyperbolic sensitivity to 'inappropriate music') and better yet, the song with Jack Black, Will Ferrell, and that other guy that most of you don't know, John C. Reilly. And guess how they ended their song? Foaming at the mouth over Helen friggin' Mirren.
And someone needs to get Cameron Diaz professional help - not mental - she needs a professional hairdresser. Please. Enough with the shaggy half up half down mussed up do. It's what I do about 2pm everyday here at work when I'm in the weeds. It's not a good look for me. It's not a good look on NATIONAL FUCKING TELEVISION WITH A BILLION PEOPLE WATCHING. Comb that shit, sweep it up and get it together.
So didja watch? Didja? It's okay to admit it here...it's a safe place...I'm an addict, too. Who did YOU like?
Friday, February 23, 2007
Team Carol ...
So whether you know it or not, you've all been recruited. And there were no embarrassing tryouts! You didn't have to audition, meet an age requirement or fill out an application. Your presence on this blog is enough.
I mentioned earlier about my Aunt Carol having surgery. Well, the follow up to that surgery is the dreaded C-word....and I don't mean c u next tuesday, either... we're talkin' chemo here folks. I know some of you for sure have had experience with loved ones going through this and it sucks. Sucks like the Cubs. Worse than that. Sucks like them not having your size in a shoe sale. Probably even worse than that.
I know I can make a little light of the situation because I've been talking to Carol every day and so far she's in good spirits. Everyone say HI CAROL!! She cut off her hair in prep for losing it, which the doc says is inevitable. The bonus round? She doesn't have to shave her legs for 18 weeks. Now THAT sounds like a little bit of heaven, eh pregnant friends and friends with overly large muffin tops? (i.e. me...) ... not having to bend in the shower to shave your legs???
So I go to Pittsburgh next week to see what there is to do. Maybe she'll need my help, maybe she won't. Maybe I'll just be there for entertainment. She wants me to figure out how to spike her hair. She's making friends at chemo...she told me today she's going to try and be like me while she's there and meet people. Might as well use the time to your advantage, treatment can take 5-6 hours.
By fabulous beach vacation my girl should be rocking the coolest short-do ever and I'll be jealous.
So now you're all a part of Team Carol. Think good thoughts, pray if it's your thing, if you know about people who have been through this and have suggestions to combat side effects or whatever, offer it up. It takes a village - or a blog community - or all of it to get through the rough spots.
I actually caught a bit of a radio-evangelist yesterday while on my way to Indy. Jul would say it's the universe trying to tell me something. I think she's probably right. He said "Stop trying to control the boat and ride the waves." So that's where we are, as a family right now, riding the waves. I just want to know if the boat has a food and beverage program.
Love you Carol....
I mentioned earlier about my Aunt Carol having surgery. Well, the follow up to that surgery is the dreaded C-word....and I don't mean c u next tuesday, either... we're talkin' chemo here folks. I know some of you for sure have had experience with loved ones going through this and it sucks. Sucks like the Cubs. Worse than that. Sucks like them not having your size in a shoe sale. Probably even worse than that.
I know I can make a little light of the situation because I've been talking to Carol every day and so far she's in good spirits. Everyone say HI CAROL!! She cut off her hair in prep for losing it, which the doc says is inevitable. The bonus round? She doesn't have to shave her legs for 18 weeks. Now THAT sounds like a little bit of heaven, eh pregnant friends and friends with overly large muffin tops? (i.e. me...) ... not having to bend in the shower to shave your legs???
So I go to Pittsburgh next week to see what there is to do. Maybe she'll need my help, maybe she won't. Maybe I'll just be there for entertainment. She wants me to figure out how to spike her hair. She's making friends at chemo...she told me today she's going to try and be like me while she's there and meet people. Might as well use the time to your advantage, treatment can take 5-6 hours.
By fabulous beach vacation my girl should be rocking the coolest short-do ever and I'll be jealous.
So now you're all a part of Team Carol. Think good thoughts, pray if it's your thing, if you know about people who have been through this and have suggestions to combat side effects or whatever, offer it up. It takes a village - or a blog community - or all of it to get through the rough spots.
I actually caught a bit of a radio-evangelist yesterday while on my way to Indy. Jul would say it's the universe trying to tell me something. I think she's probably right. He said "Stop trying to control the boat and ride the waves." So that's where we are, as a family right now, riding the waves. I just want to know if the boat has a food and beverage program.
Love you Carol....
Thursday, February 22, 2007
My audience...
So now I see - it's all coming together. I blog about stuff that meets with little to no response for DAYS and now I blog about pills and booze and suddenly WHAM! You all have something to say.
Well at least I know what my target audience is, ya bunch a drunk pill popping freaks! I love each and every last one of your lush asses.
Last night I took a cooking class with the Pea and her man, Susan-the-lurker, and my girlfriend Cathy, who is not the leader of the la leche league who posts hear every now and again and lurks all the time. The class? Knife skills. My husband should be afraid, be very afraid. We got lectured on knife care - dishwasher is a BIG no. Which I guess I've always known...it just doesn't seem like you should put large knives in there. And knowing good knives from bad knives, and cutting boards, yes cutting boards.
Now I've always been a wood girl, myself (insert your own jokes here). I grew up cutting on a butcher's block and have always loved it. Then some yahoo came out and said that we're all going to die miserable salmonella deaths if we continue to cut chicken on wood - so I added a plastic cutting board to the mix. It's a lie folks - A LIE - spawned from the same conspiracy that tries to tell us that eggs cause cancer and red meat is bad for you and cigarettes are addictive on purpose. What? That last one is true? Damn you Philip Morris!!!!
Basically wood heals. You cut chicken on wood and eventually the wood kind of fills itself in. Plastic heals not. That cut will stay there - just as deep, just as bacteria holding as the day you cut it. Ewwwwww, bacteria. So really you should always cut on wood - clean it in soapy water and let it air dry.
Okay, so this is now Friday and I think I started this yesterday, and I have no idea how to finish these thoughts...posting anyway...
Well at least I know what my target audience is, ya bunch a drunk pill popping freaks! I love each and every last one of your lush asses.
Last night I took a cooking class with the Pea and her man, Susan-the-lurker, and my girlfriend Cathy, who is not the leader of the la leche league who posts hear every now and again and lurks all the time. The class? Knife skills. My husband should be afraid, be very afraid. We got lectured on knife care - dishwasher is a BIG no. Which I guess I've always known...it just doesn't seem like you should put large knives in there. And knowing good knives from bad knives, and cutting boards, yes cutting boards.
Now I've always been a wood girl, myself (insert your own jokes here). I grew up cutting on a butcher's block and have always loved it. Then some yahoo came out and said that we're all going to die miserable salmonella deaths if we continue to cut chicken on wood - so I added a plastic cutting board to the mix. It's a lie folks - A LIE - spawned from the same conspiracy that tries to tell us that eggs cause cancer and red meat is bad for you and cigarettes are addictive on purpose. What? That last one is true? Damn you Philip Morris!!!!
Basically wood heals. You cut chicken on wood and eventually the wood kind of fills itself in. Plastic heals not. That cut will stay there - just as deep, just as bacteria holding as the day you cut it. Ewwwwww, bacteria. So really you should always cut on wood - clean it in soapy water and let it air dry.
Okay, so this is now Friday and I think I started this yesterday, and I have no idea how to finish these thoughts...posting anyway...
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Jeez - we're not...pill poppers!
Actual words spoken by JBrave. And it's true. I'm not. I hate taking pills...even when I'm supposed to.
So after the waterfall extravaganza (no, I didn't take pictures - and I'm totally wishing I had. I was too stunned to do anything like that.) I was pushing water out of the garage and taking everything out of that closet under the stairs and needless to say, my shoulder and my back ... ugh... a mess. PAIN my friends with a capital p and that rhymes with b and that stands for BOOZE. Yes indeedy. I needed some booze. Did I drink any? No. Not that night. I was too tired. Actually I think Kev-head and I each had about half a glass of Bob...but nothing significant.
Well by Saturday it was like the day after a car accident. You know - the day you REALLY feel it when you've done something stupid. Like hit a telephone pole, or rammed your four-wheeler into a tree...or in Kev-head's case, try to prove that you can still do a backwards somersault. Yeah, that's right, you heard me. Backwards.somersault. OMG - I almost peed my pants last weekend. The sight of my hubby with his legs in the air pushing with all his might. Now some of you might think that's a typical Saturday night at the Crumerosa...you'd be wrong. In my case the stupidity was moving all that shit. Kevin says it's because I don't delegate well. I say it's because I'M ALMOST 36 AND HORRIBLY OUT OF SHAPE. Nah...really? Muffin top you say? Just how big are they making muffins these days? Well lemme tell ya...
So Saturday I tell Jul that I'm not sure if I want to go home and open a bottle of red and drink the whole thing OR take a muscle relaxer and a vicodin and go to bed - I was HURTING. Not only that but I needed to numb my own embarrassment and frustration at being THAT SORE over some boxes (well, they were heavy) and some water (it was cold in that garage). Her response? *GASP* Rebecca - we're not...pill poppers! Go home and open that wine!
Halfway through the bottle I realized the wisdom of my friend. I put myself on a heating pad, climbed onto my tempur-pedic mattress (it's developed by NASA!) with my glass of red and fell to sleep watching TV. How's that for a rockin' Saturday night? At least I'm no pill popper.
So after the waterfall extravaganza (no, I didn't take pictures - and I'm totally wishing I had. I was too stunned to do anything like that.) I was pushing water out of the garage and taking everything out of that closet under the stairs and needless to say, my shoulder and my back ... ugh... a mess. PAIN my friends with a capital p and that rhymes with b and that stands for BOOZE. Yes indeedy. I needed some booze. Did I drink any? No. Not that night. I was too tired. Actually I think Kev-head and I each had about half a glass of Bob...but nothing significant.
Well by Saturday it was like the day after a car accident. You know - the day you REALLY feel it when you've done something stupid. Like hit a telephone pole, or rammed your four-wheeler into a tree...or in Kev-head's case, try to prove that you can still do a backwards somersault. Yeah, that's right, you heard me. Backwards.somersault. OMG - I almost peed my pants last weekend. The sight of my hubby with his legs in the air pushing with all his might. Now some of you might think that's a typical Saturday night at the Crumerosa...you'd be wrong. In my case the stupidity was moving all that shit. Kevin says it's because I don't delegate well. I say it's because I'M ALMOST 36 AND HORRIBLY OUT OF SHAPE. Nah...really? Muffin top you say? Just how big are they making muffins these days? Well lemme tell ya...
So Saturday I tell Jul that I'm not sure if I want to go home and open a bottle of red and drink the whole thing OR take a muscle relaxer and a vicodin and go to bed - I was HURTING. Not only that but I needed to numb my own embarrassment and frustration at being THAT SORE over some boxes (well, they were heavy) and some water (it was cold in that garage). Her response? *GASP* Rebecca - we're not...pill poppers! Go home and open that wine!
Halfway through the bottle I realized the wisdom of my friend. I put myself on a heating pad, climbed onto my tempur-pedic mattress (it's developed by NASA!) with my glass of red and fell to sleep watching TV. How's that for a rockin' Saturday night? At least I'm no pill popper.
Monday, February 19, 2007
We put the old in cold...
Well well well...it was cold on Friday. COLD people. So cold, in fact, that we had a pipe burst in the garage. "It is his love, it his his passion..." It is his fault he didn't lock the garage....
So yeah, here's me...coming home with the kids. The Kev-head is out at a bachelor party. Whoo-hoo, partay! We went out for pizza. MMMMMMmm...pizza. I opened the garage door and in a flash - huh - why is there water on my garage floor? That is a LOT of water on my garage floor. There's usually only that much water on my garage floor AFTER my car is in it. I wonder...OH MY GOD LOOK AT ALL OF THAT WATER STREAMING FROM THAT PIPE! A waterfall is what it was and who knows how long it had been going on. I called the Kev-head who luckily picked up and told me how to kill the water to the house. Needless to say, he had to leave the partay - and before the "entertainment" arrived. When he got home he said he had a bunch of "singles he didn't get to use" - okay Mr. Funnyman - grab a squeegee and shut your pie-hole - you're not using them on me.
Yes the water got into the house, too - the closet under the stairs? Trashed. Seriously - like I could splash in puddles in there. That carpet? We just ripped it out babies. No use in trying to save it. I mean seriously - dark, damp closet with a house full of asthmatics? That's what I need - a mold problem all over my Christmas decorations.
The rest of the weekend wasn't bad after that. Where else could it go from there??
So yeah, here's me...coming home with the kids. The Kev-head is out at a bachelor party. Whoo-hoo, partay! We went out for pizza. MMMMMMmm...pizza. I opened the garage door and in a flash - huh - why is there water on my garage floor? That is a LOT of water on my garage floor. There's usually only that much water on my garage floor AFTER my car is in it. I wonder...OH MY GOD LOOK AT ALL OF THAT WATER STREAMING FROM THAT PIPE! A waterfall is what it was and who knows how long it had been going on. I called the Kev-head who luckily picked up and told me how to kill the water to the house. Needless to say, he had to leave the partay - and before the "entertainment" arrived. When he got home he said he had a bunch of "singles he didn't get to use" - okay Mr. Funnyman - grab a squeegee and shut your pie-hole - you're not using them on me.
Yes the water got into the house, too - the closet under the stairs? Trashed. Seriously - like I could splash in puddles in there. That carpet? We just ripped it out babies. No use in trying to save it. I mean seriously - dark, damp closet with a house full of asthmatics? That's what I need - a mold problem all over my Christmas decorations.
The rest of the weekend wasn't bad after that. Where else could it go from there??
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Ahhhhh Valentine's Day - the holiday for love...
Views differ on Valentine's Day and the need to celebrate it.
View #1: It's a Hallmark holiday - I don't have to do anything.
View #2: I love Valentine's Day! I'm buying a red dress and red shoes and a fun card for my significant other. I'm going to get candy and flowers and get a fancy hotel room for great sex!
View #3: Oh shit, it's Valentine's Day???
View #4: I hate this fucking holiday. Yet another reminder that I'm alone and relationships suck!
View #5: I'll celebrate it, but I really don't know what to do, or what to buy.
Where do you fall?
View #1 has been repeated to me time and time again, usually by married people. If the person is a married woman, she says it because she knows her husband won't do anything, and she'll be disappointed, so she's resigned herself to her fateful lack of romance in her relationship. If the person is a married man, that's just an excuse because he's too lazy, for ONE DAY in the fucking year to step up to the plate and acknowledge and honor his relationship with his spouse. Probably married to the woman making the same comment. Seriously - guys - is it that hard? Is it truly THAT HARD? Buy a card, say I love you, buy one flower at the drugstore on your way home. Ask about her day - Hallmark doesn't have to have anything to do with it if you don't want it to. These same men probably forget their anniversaries and don't buy their wives anything for their birthdays. Pa-thetic.
View #2 - only said by people who are dating. By the second Valentine's Day together with their boyfriend/girlfriend, they probably fall into one of the other categories.
View #3 - single men.
View #4 - single women.
View #5 - Everyone else.
The Kev-head is a romantic at heart. And sometimes he can really surprise me. Yesterday we decided to come home after work, have a nice dinner with the kids and chill out. He did buy me a card, and had the kids make cards for me, too. That was nice. They cleaned the kitchen before I got home, too, so I could cook dinner. This was very nice. We had mimosas while I was cooking dinner, and then while dinner was in the oven we all went into the living room for "cocktail hour." I'm trying to bring this tradition back. Just some time set aside for us to all be in one place, no TV, no phone - just us - chatting about whatever. It was nice. We had dinner together, the boys got their little goody bags of Valentine's candy.
For those of you sharing view #5, I found a how-to for celebrating a meaningful Valentine's Day. If you have a spouse sharing view #1 - print this and leave it out - once a week until next year.
View #1: It's a Hallmark holiday - I don't have to do anything.
View #2: I love Valentine's Day! I'm buying a red dress and red shoes and a fun card for my significant other. I'm going to get candy and flowers and get a fancy hotel room for great sex!
View #3: Oh shit, it's Valentine's Day???
View #4: I hate this fucking holiday. Yet another reminder that I'm alone and relationships suck!
View #5: I'll celebrate it, but I really don't know what to do, or what to buy.
Where do you fall?
View #1 has been repeated to me time and time again, usually by married people. If the person is a married woman, she says it because she knows her husband won't do anything, and she'll be disappointed, so she's resigned herself to her fateful lack of romance in her relationship. If the person is a married man, that's just an excuse because he's too lazy, for ONE DAY in the fucking year to step up to the plate and acknowledge and honor his relationship with his spouse. Probably married to the woman making the same comment. Seriously - guys - is it that hard? Is it truly THAT HARD? Buy a card, say I love you, buy one flower at the drugstore on your way home. Ask about her day - Hallmark doesn't have to have anything to do with it if you don't want it to. These same men probably forget their anniversaries and don't buy their wives anything for their birthdays. Pa-thetic.
View #2 - only said by people who are dating. By the second Valentine's Day together with their boyfriend/girlfriend, they probably fall into one of the other categories.
View #3 - single men.
View #4 - single women.
View #5 - Everyone else.
The Kev-head is a romantic at heart. And sometimes he can really surprise me. Yesterday we decided to come home after work, have a nice dinner with the kids and chill out. He did buy me a card, and had the kids make cards for me, too. That was nice. They cleaned the kitchen before I got home, too, so I could cook dinner. This was very nice. We had mimosas while I was cooking dinner, and then while dinner was in the oven we all went into the living room for "cocktail hour." I'm trying to bring this tradition back. Just some time set aside for us to all be in one place, no TV, no phone - just us - chatting about whatever. It was nice. We had dinner together, the boys got their little goody bags of Valentine's candy.
For those of you sharing view #5, I found a how-to for celebrating a meaningful Valentine's Day. If you have a spouse sharing view #1 - print this and leave it out - once a week until next year.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I have this friend...
So I know most people start stories with "I have this friend..." and they are really talking about themselves in some horribly obvious way. But I assure you, I am not talking about me. Really. I'm not.
I have this friend, and she's pregnant. See...told you it wasn't about me. While I'm a veritable playground for conception given my estrogen levels, I am not pregnant. So this friend, she has a big decision to make. Her baby is due on April 25th. But due to reasons I won't go into, she has to schedule her baby's due date. So here's the dilemma...
If she schedules this BEFORE April 21st, she is changing the baby's birth sign. I know I'm tied to my astrological sign. I'm an Aries through and through - and I love being an Aries. 12 o'clock on the zodiac clock, baby - the king of the astrological signs...actually the ram of the astrological signs. So what if she does change this baby's birth date??? What does that mean? Will the baby be a closeted Aries in Taurus clothing? She can't pick the 20th - we just found out this is Hitler's birthday and I completely disallow this.
She can wait until the 23rd, which is still Taurus territory, and then maybe, just maybe the baby chooses to be an Aries, but that takes the whole "scheduled" part out, and that's not great either. What if the baby chooses the 20th??? I think the baby is probably already smarter than that. The 23rd is Shakespeare's birthday, so that sounds pretty good.
For those of you (I'm lookin' at YOU, Jimmer) who think that she's thinking about this way too much - you can suck it. This is a big deal...HUGE...or I wouldn't be bringing it to the blog.
What are your thoughts? Have a preference on a date?
OH!!! AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY...I guess this is truly a holiday for "lover" (read "lovahs") and not us old married folk, or it would have been the subject of the blog today...maybe I'll rant about that tomorrow. But I love you all - seriously - like I would marry you.
I have this friend, and she's pregnant. See...told you it wasn't about me. While I'm a veritable playground for conception given my estrogen levels, I am not pregnant. So this friend, she has a big decision to make. Her baby is due on April 25th. But due to reasons I won't go into, she has to schedule her baby's due date. So here's the dilemma...
If she schedules this BEFORE April 21st, she is changing the baby's birth sign. I know I'm tied to my astrological sign. I'm an Aries through and through - and I love being an Aries. 12 o'clock on the zodiac clock, baby - the king of the astrological signs...actually the ram of the astrological signs. So what if she does change this baby's birth date??? What does that mean? Will the baby be a closeted Aries in Taurus clothing? She can't pick the 20th - we just found out this is Hitler's birthday and I completely disallow this.
She can wait until the 23rd, which is still Taurus territory, and then maybe, just maybe the baby chooses to be an Aries, but that takes the whole "scheduled" part out, and that's not great either. What if the baby chooses the 20th??? I think the baby is probably already smarter than that. The 23rd is Shakespeare's birthday, so that sounds pretty good.
For those of you (I'm lookin' at YOU, Jimmer) who think that she's thinking about this way too much - you can suck it. This is a big deal...HUGE...or I wouldn't be bringing it to the blog.
What are your thoughts? Have a preference on a date?
OH!!! AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY...I guess this is truly a holiday for "lover" (read "lovahs") and not us old married folk, or it would have been the subject of the blog today...maybe I'll rant about that tomorrow. But I love you all - seriously - like I would marry you.
Monday, February 12, 2007
The Grammy's - what a let down...
Okay -so you're kidding me, right? Did anyone watch the Grammy's last night?? Lemme get this straight - The Police...THE POLICE are back together for the first time in forever, and they get one song. ONE SONG? And while Roxanne is great and probably their most well-known song, it's not even close to their best and THAT's how they open the Grammy's??? ONE SONG? And I have to listen to not 1, not 2, not 3 but FOUR songs by Rascal Flatts and Carrie Underwood saluting a country artist whose name is escaping me and Don Henley of the Eagles. Now I love Don Henley as much as the next guy - but seriously? 3 Eagles songs PERFORMED BY SOMEONE ELSE and ONE Police reunion song? Seriously?
And where were the great duets/group sings that the Grammy's are known for? They had the singer/songwriter set , which was really just the 3 artists playing their own deal with the others bringing in the occasional harmony. And John Mayer makes me throw up in my mouth a little - I just can't stand him - sorry to his fans. It's that muppet-like thing he does with his tongue and that half-lisp half-whisper singing style. I just can't do it. Boy can play, though - and his lyrics are great. John Legend, however, could sing me the phone book and I would swoon.
How much plastic is involved in keeping Smoky Robinson's face together, exactly? I love the man, I do, and he sounded good - but I've owned baby dolls in my youth whose faces were softer.
How do I love the Dixie Chicks, let me count the ways. I think they won every category they were in - so take that Reba! I know she was just loving every minute of her introduction about "honoring Texans" in music - don't even get me STARTED on that one. And then she gets a big kick in the ass when her honoree comes out and declares his love for the Chicks. AWESOME. I though Natalie could have been a little less dramatic - the fact that they were winning everything was statement enough.
And then? THEN I was completely underwhelmed by the Chili Peppers...I know the new album is supposed to be brilliant, but it's the GRAMMY'S, and no matter how much Flea jumps around, it's not going to make that song a show stopper.
How is your Monday? Snow is a comin' for those of us south of the river...
And where were the great duets/group sings that the Grammy's are known for? They had the singer/songwriter set , which was really just the 3 artists playing their own deal with the others bringing in the occasional harmony. And John Mayer makes me throw up in my mouth a little - I just can't stand him - sorry to his fans. It's that muppet-like thing he does with his tongue and that half-lisp half-whisper singing style. I just can't do it. Boy can play, though - and his lyrics are great. John Legend, however, could sing me the phone book and I would swoon.
How much plastic is involved in keeping Smoky Robinson's face together, exactly? I love the man, I do, and he sounded good - but I've owned baby dolls in my youth whose faces were softer.
How do I love the Dixie Chicks, let me count the ways. I think they won every category they were in - so take that Reba! I know she was just loving every minute of her introduction about "honoring Texans" in music - don't even get me STARTED on that one. And then she gets a big kick in the ass when her honoree comes out and declares his love for the Chicks. AWESOME. I though Natalie could have been a little less dramatic - the fact that they were winning everything was statement enough.
And then? THEN I was completely underwhelmed by the Chili Peppers...I know the new album is supposed to be brilliant, but it's the GRAMMY'S, and no matter how much Flea jumps around, it's not going to make that song a show stopper.
How is your Monday? Snow is a comin' for those of us south of the river...
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Top 100 in no particular order...
So in keeping with the music theme, I've comprised over several days a list of my Top 100 songs of all time. I may have missed some, so feel free to contribute. This was really tough for me, as I love so much music from so many different eras. I toiled, edited, removed and replaced several songs, but I think this is pretty good. If you don't know them, shame on you - go out to iTunes and give them a listen, and then immediately download them.
In no particular order...
1. Let's Stay Together - Al Green
2. Dr. Feelgood - Aretha Franklin
3. Solitude - Billie Holiday
4. Use Me - Bill Withers
5. Where is the Love - Black Eyed Peas
6. Could you Be Loved - Bob Marley
7. More - Bobby Daren
8. Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi
9. It's not Unusual - Tom Jones
10. I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
11. Ain't Nobody OR Tell Me Something Good - Chaka Khan
12. Low - Cracker
13. Just Like Heaven - The Cure
14. We Just Disagree - Dave Mason
15. Tempted - Squeeze
16. Try a Little Tenderness - Otis Redding
17. Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
18. She Talks to Angels - Black Crowes
19. Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters - Elton John
20. My Name Is - Slim Shady
21. Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac
22. Stand Back - Stevie Nicks
23. Pink Houses - John Mellencamp
24. Sugar Magnolia - Grateful Dead
25. American Idiot - Green Day
26. She's Gone - Hall & Oates
27. Sara Smile - Hall & Oates
28. Problem Girl - Rob Thomas
29. Bright Lights - Matchbox 20
30. Head over Feet - Alanis Morrissette
31. Blackbird - The Beatles
32. She's Got a Way - Billy Joel
33. A Day in the Life - The Beatles
34. Fool in the Rain - Led Zeppelin
35. Ramble On - Led Zeppelin
36. Don't Speak - No Doubt
37. Dance to the Music - Sly and the Family Stone
38. What it Takes - Aerosmith
39. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
40. Black - Pearl Jam
41. Southern Cross - CSNY
42. Somebody to Love - Queen
43. Hold on, I'm Comin - Sam and Dave
44. Shelter Me - Ray LaMontagne
45. In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel
46. In Your Eyes - Jeffrey Gaines
47. Cry Love - John Hiatt
48. The Tighten Up - Archie Bell & the Drells
49. Rock me Right - Susan Tedeschi
50. Hurt So Bad - Susan Tedeschi
51. Crazy - Seal
52. At Last - Etta James
53. Bad Love - Eric Clapton
54. Sunshine of your Love - Cream
55. Lover Lay Down - Dave Matthews Band
56. Crash - Dave Matthews Band
57. Against All Odds - Phil Collins
58. Maybe - Janis Joplin
59. Control - Puddle of Mudd
60. Chain of Fools - Aretha Franklin
61. Far Behind - Candlebox
62. Hemorrhage - Fuel
63. The Reflex - Duran Duran
64. White Lines - Duran Duran
65. I Am I Said - Neil Diamond
66. Cherry Cherry - Neil Diamond
67. Overlap - Ani DiFranco
68. It's Probably Me - Sting
69. Message in a Bottle - The Police
70. Do What you Want - OK Go
71. Don't Stop Til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson
72. ABC - The Jackson Five
73. Like the Way I Do - Melissa Etheridge
74. I'm the Only One - Melissa Etheridge
75. Ray of Light - Madonna
76. Like a Prayer - Madonna
77. Somebody Told Me - The Killers
78. Ordinary People - John Legend
79. A Song For You - Leon Russell
80. The Letter - Joe Cocker
81. You Can't Always Get What You Want - Rolling Stones
82. Gimme Shelter - Rolling Stones
83. Been Caught Stealing - Jane's Addiction
84. Sex Machine - James Brown
85. The Wood Song - Indigo Girls
86. Changes - David Bowie
87. Romeo & Juliet - Mark Knopfler/Indigo Girls
88. All that we let in - Indigo Girls
89. Jump Around - House of Pain
90. In my Life - John Lennon
91. Maybe I'm Amazed - Paul McCartney
92. I Wish - Stevie Wonder
93. Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival/Ike & Tina Turner
94. Dark Side of the Moon - the entire album - played in its entirety it's genius.
95. Back on the Chain Gang - The Pretenders
96. Baby I'm a Star - Prince
97. Purple Rain - Prince
98. One Way Out - The Allman Brothers
99. The Story in Your Eyes- The Moody Blues
100. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
Well, there it is...for what it's worth. Do you agree? Disagree? See a glaring omission? Get on the record books now! There are some country songs I thought of putting on there - He Stopped Loving Her Today is one...Van Morrison was put on the list and removed several times, as was Cat Stevens, Emerson Lake and Palmer and Yes.
In no particular order...
1. Let's Stay Together - Al Green
2. Dr. Feelgood - Aretha Franklin
3. Solitude - Billie Holiday
4. Use Me - Bill Withers
5. Where is the Love - Black Eyed Peas
6. Could you Be Loved - Bob Marley
7. More - Bobby Daren
8. Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi
9. It's not Unusual - Tom Jones
10. I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
11. Ain't Nobody OR Tell Me Something Good - Chaka Khan
12. Low - Cracker
13. Just Like Heaven - The Cure
14. We Just Disagree - Dave Mason
15. Tempted - Squeeze
16. Try a Little Tenderness - Otis Redding
17. Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
18. She Talks to Angels - Black Crowes
19. Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters - Elton John
20. My Name Is - Slim Shady
21. Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac
22. Stand Back - Stevie Nicks
23. Pink Houses - John Mellencamp
24. Sugar Magnolia - Grateful Dead
25. American Idiot - Green Day
26. She's Gone - Hall & Oates
27. Sara Smile - Hall & Oates
28. Problem Girl - Rob Thomas
29. Bright Lights - Matchbox 20
30. Head over Feet - Alanis Morrissette
31. Blackbird - The Beatles
32. She's Got a Way - Billy Joel
33. A Day in the Life - The Beatles
34. Fool in the Rain - Led Zeppelin
35. Ramble On - Led Zeppelin
36. Don't Speak - No Doubt
37. Dance to the Music - Sly and the Family Stone
38. What it Takes - Aerosmith
39. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
40. Black - Pearl Jam
41. Southern Cross - CSNY
42. Somebody to Love - Queen
43. Hold on, I'm Comin - Sam and Dave
44. Shelter Me - Ray LaMontagne
45. In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel
46. In Your Eyes - Jeffrey Gaines
47. Cry Love - John Hiatt
48. The Tighten Up - Archie Bell & the Drells
49. Rock me Right - Susan Tedeschi
50. Hurt So Bad - Susan Tedeschi
51. Crazy - Seal
52. At Last - Etta James
53. Bad Love - Eric Clapton
54. Sunshine of your Love - Cream
55. Lover Lay Down - Dave Matthews Band
56. Crash - Dave Matthews Band
57. Against All Odds - Phil Collins
58. Maybe - Janis Joplin
59. Control - Puddle of Mudd
60. Chain of Fools - Aretha Franklin
61. Far Behind - Candlebox
62. Hemorrhage - Fuel
63. The Reflex - Duran Duran
64. White Lines - Duran Duran
65. I Am I Said - Neil Diamond
66. Cherry Cherry - Neil Diamond
67. Overlap - Ani DiFranco
68. It's Probably Me - Sting
69. Message in a Bottle - The Police
70. Do What you Want - OK Go
71. Don't Stop Til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson
72. ABC - The Jackson Five
73. Like the Way I Do - Melissa Etheridge
74. I'm the Only One - Melissa Etheridge
75. Ray of Light - Madonna
76. Like a Prayer - Madonna
77. Somebody Told Me - The Killers
78. Ordinary People - John Legend
79. A Song For You - Leon Russell
80. The Letter - Joe Cocker
81. You Can't Always Get What You Want - Rolling Stones
82. Gimme Shelter - Rolling Stones
83. Been Caught Stealing - Jane's Addiction
84. Sex Machine - James Brown
85. The Wood Song - Indigo Girls
86. Changes - David Bowie
87. Romeo & Juliet - Mark Knopfler/Indigo Girls
88. All that we let in - Indigo Girls
89. Jump Around - House of Pain
90. In my Life - John Lennon
91. Maybe I'm Amazed - Paul McCartney
92. I Wish - Stevie Wonder
93. Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival/Ike & Tina Turner
94. Dark Side of the Moon - the entire album - played in its entirety it's genius.
95. Back on the Chain Gang - The Pretenders
96. Baby I'm a Star - Prince
97. Purple Rain - Prince
98. One Way Out - The Allman Brothers
99. The Story in Your Eyes- The Moody Blues
100. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
Well, there it is...for what it's worth. Do you agree? Disagree? See a glaring omission? Get on the record books now! There are some country songs I thought of putting on there - He Stopped Loving Her Today is one...Van Morrison was put on the list and removed several times, as was Cat Stevens, Emerson Lake and Palmer and Yes.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
DJ - play me something new...
This blog started about music, and I realize that it's been awhile since I actually discussed music. What a shame, because it's something I love...it motivates me...makes me happy...takes me places, in time, in space...
Too philosophical this morning...yeah, I thought so, too.
Through another blog I found this band on myspace (which I adamantly oppose, btw, as it robs people of any logic, but it seems you can't listen to anything new anywhere else.)...check out Ultraviolet. I think it's what Gwen Stefani would be doing if she cared at all about being relevant and not some pop sensation sampling the soundtrack of the fucking Sound of Music. Seriously? Seriously, Gwen, you went from being a cutting edge ska/pop diva holding up a middle finger to all things in the social norm, and now you're trying to be some white girl rapper dressed like harajuku? I was a huge No Doubt fan, and this? No. But Ultraviolet, I love these guys...and they're unsigned. Check out the track Dead on the Dancefloor. These guys are like Devo meets PJ Harvey meets KC and the Sunshine Band. If I was a club kid - this would be my jam. (Where are my glow sticks???)
I listen to XRT a lot - yesterday on the ride home they were really busting out the tunes...the new Patty Griffin sounded really good.
Are you watching Idol??? One of the supposed 12 male finalists is Chris Sligh...he was that guy with the crazy fro who sounded like the white Hootie. He's got two bands out on myspace - they're okay. Basically everything like every band you ever heard in college (including my ex-husband's band) - but his vocals are killer and that's what should get him far. With his attitude I can see him sticking this thing out for the long haul. He's my pick to win it.
My girl Gina Glocksen out of a chick rock band here in Chicago is back in it - and according to some spoilers, makes it to the top 24. I loved this girl last year and thought they made a mistake when they tossed her out of Hollywood. I know most of you are shaking your heads and saying "how does she remember this shit?" I don't know, I just do. I really liked her last year, so she sticks in my head. I thought I saw a blip of her running down the hall with a golden ticket and thought "hey, that looks like Gina from last season!" I thought they might have slipped in old footage for filler, but sure enough, it's her. Hooray! A non-blond girl might have a fighting chance this year.
How many more blond hair country girls are they going to pick and say "I like you, you're different." Different than who? The other 52 artists who are already IN country music and are singing through their nose just like them? I'm looking at you Kelly Pickler, Faith Hill...Bailey whats-her-name from last night.
I'm glad the stupid auditions are over - we're looking at the best of the best and the worst of the worst tonight. I'll be glad when we're in Hollywood. What are you listening to? Anything good? Anything new?
Too philosophical this morning...yeah, I thought so, too.
Through another blog I found this band on myspace (which I adamantly oppose, btw, as it robs people of any logic, but it seems you can't listen to anything new anywhere else.)...check out Ultraviolet. I think it's what Gwen Stefani would be doing if she cared at all about being relevant and not some pop sensation sampling the soundtrack of the fucking Sound of Music. Seriously? Seriously, Gwen, you went from being a cutting edge ska/pop diva holding up a middle finger to all things in the social norm, and now you're trying to be some white girl rapper dressed like harajuku? I was a huge No Doubt fan, and this? No. But Ultraviolet, I love these guys...and they're unsigned. Check out the track Dead on the Dancefloor. These guys are like Devo meets PJ Harvey meets KC and the Sunshine Band. If I was a club kid - this would be my jam. (Where are my glow sticks???)
I listen to XRT a lot - yesterday on the ride home they were really busting out the tunes...the new Patty Griffin sounded really good.
Are you watching Idol??? One of the supposed 12 male finalists is Chris Sligh...he was that guy with the crazy fro who sounded like the white Hootie. He's got two bands out on myspace - they're okay. Basically everything like every band you ever heard in college (including my ex-husband's band) - but his vocals are killer and that's what should get him far. With his attitude I can see him sticking this thing out for the long haul. He's my pick to win it.
My girl Gina Glocksen out of a chick rock band here in Chicago is back in it - and according to some spoilers, makes it to the top 24. I loved this girl last year and thought they made a mistake when they tossed her out of Hollywood. I know most of you are shaking your heads and saying "how does she remember this shit?" I don't know, I just do. I really liked her last year, so she sticks in my head. I thought I saw a blip of her running down the hall with a golden ticket and thought "hey, that looks like Gina from last season!" I thought they might have slipped in old footage for filler, but sure enough, it's her. Hooray! A non-blond girl might have a fighting chance this year.
How many more blond hair country girls are they going to pick and say "I like you, you're different." Different than who? The other 52 artists who are already IN country music and are singing through their nose just like them? I'm looking at you Kelly Pickler, Faith Hill...Bailey whats-her-name from last night.
I'm glad the stupid auditions are over - we're looking at the best of the best and the worst of the worst tonight. I'll be glad when we're in Hollywood. What are you listening to? Anything good? Anything new?
Monday, February 05, 2007
Living my dream...
I had a dream...I did...so very long ago. And recently I was talking with a friend who is living my dream. Yes...it's true...he's....he's....buying things from infomercials.
When I was a little girl, I wanted the bedazzler, the ginsu knives (they could cut cans and then cut a tomato!), I wanted the beads you put in your hair, and even the knitting machine. I would wait for these commercials on Saturday mornings and write down the addresses as fast as I could on my large lined paper with the chunks of wood still in it. I swore I was going to save my allowance money and purchase these must-have items. I could doll-up my old blue jeans AND help mom in the kitchen while looking at my chia pet in the window.
It was such a wonderful world - the world where I ordered everything I saw in the infomercials. But that world was never to be. I never made myself that one of a kind stocking cap. *sigh*
And now, I'm still just as bad...many a time I have picked up the phone...and almost ordered
The One Sweep - they were offering 2-for-1 if I called in the next 10 minutes!
The Eggstractor - haven't you ever fought with hard-boiled egg shells and LOST??? No more!
The Pasta Pro!! - I love this pot - it's genius! I have peeled off layers of skin draining pasta incorrectly with the lid of a pan.
But mostly, mostly I want the magic bullet. And he has one. I've seen these in the store. They cost like $60. Now, as with my dilemma of my youth...how do I justify $60 on a food processor, blender, electric juicer and coffee grinder that occupies only the space of a coffee mug? Even if it stays handy on your countertop for instant meals and snacks, I just can't do it.
I've almost ordered all of these things, and yet I haven't...but I'll drop money like it's hot on countless bottles of wine. Huh. What does this say about me?
The worst part about this person who owns the beloved bullet - yeah, it's still in the box. BLASPHEMY! That's some sort of heresy against the infomercial gods, I'm sure. Oh the smoothies I could be making...the marguaritas...the salsa...oh the salsa.
He owns the laser level, too. Oh the agony!
So why DON'T I buy these things? I have the money - I could if I wanted to. Maybe I'm afraid. Maybe I'm afraid that if I start buying the infomercial products it will become like crack cocaine for me. And then I'll be that girl maxing her credit card out on QVC giving my kids obsolete coins, fake jewelry and bathroom butlers...living with my cats. Hmmmm, I already have a lot of cats. Clearly I can't start shopping QVC....but do they have shoes? Maybe just a peek...
When I was a little girl, I wanted the bedazzler, the ginsu knives (they could cut cans and then cut a tomato!), I wanted the beads you put in your hair, and even the knitting machine. I would wait for these commercials on Saturday mornings and write down the addresses as fast as I could on my large lined paper with the chunks of wood still in it. I swore I was going to save my allowance money and purchase these must-have items. I could doll-up my old blue jeans AND help mom in the kitchen while looking at my chia pet in the window.
It was such a wonderful world - the world where I ordered everything I saw in the infomercials. But that world was never to be. I never made myself that one of a kind stocking cap. *sigh*
And now, I'm still just as bad...many a time I have picked up the phone...and almost ordered
The One Sweep - they were offering 2-for-1 if I called in the next 10 minutes!
The Eggstractor - haven't you ever fought with hard-boiled egg shells and LOST??? No more!
The Pasta Pro!! - I love this pot - it's genius! I have peeled off layers of skin draining pasta incorrectly with the lid of a pan.
But mostly, mostly I want the magic bullet. And he has one. I've seen these in the store. They cost like $60. Now, as with my dilemma of my youth...how do I justify $60 on a food processor, blender, electric juicer and coffee grinder that occupies only the space of a coffee mug? Even if it stays handy on your countertop for instant meals and snacks, I just can't do it.
I've almost ordered all of these things, and yet I haven't...but I'll drop money like it's hot on countless bottles of wine. Huh. What does this say about me?
The worst part about this person who owns the beloved bullet - yeah, it's still in the box. BLASPHEMY! That's some sort of heresy against the infomercial gods, I'm sure. Oh the smoothies I could be making...the marguaritas...the salsa...oh the salsa.
He owns the laser level, too. Oh the agony!
So why DON'T I buy these things? I have the money - I could if I wanted to. Maybe I'm afraid. Maybe I'm afraid that if I start buying the infomercial products it will become like crack cocaine for me. And then I'll be that girl maxing her credit card out on QVC giving my kids obsolete coins, fake jewelry and bathroom butlers...living with my cats. Hmmmm, I already have a lot of cats. Clearly I can't start shopping QVC....but do they have shoes? Maybe just a peek...
Blame it on the rain
that was fallin fallin
Blame it on the stars
that did shine at night....
Well, well, well...there had to be a winner, and there had to be a loser...and in the end, it pretty much went how I expected. In the end, Rex delivered exactly what he had delivered all season, an inconsistent turnover-filled mess. And not that Peyton and the Colts didn't have their fair share of whoopsies (I'm looking at you Vinatieri!), they just seemed to have the poise under pressure. If the Bears had been up at the half, they might have had a fighting chance, they sure came out of the gate looking good. But they just didn't have the stamina to make it.
It was a fun Superbowl party, the kids were entertaining. Some were cheering for the Colts, some for the Bears.
I do have one complaint. The commercials. They were not as good as they have been in years past. I thought Sierra Mist had some good things - Jim Gaffigan was, of course, hilarious. But a lot of the commercials I'd seen before, and they weren't impressive. A lot more advertisements for upcoming shows. A lot more drug commercials - I don't remember seeing drug commercials in the past. Just overall disappointing. I can remember coming to work in years past and watching the Superbowl commercials on the web and laughing my ass off. This year I can't think of a single one that I feel the need to run right out and view. (Except the Jim Gaffigan beard combover - that's good stuff right there) What are you doing Superbowl ad people???
Prince totally brought it. I thought he was fantastic, even in the Purple Rain.
Hubby got soaked, but had a good time, I believe. And now the excitement is over and it's back to life as we know it.
Blame it on the stars
that did shine at night....
Well, well, well...there had to be a winner, and there had to be a loser...and in the end, it pretty much went how I expected. In the end, Rex delivered exactly what he had delivered all season, an inconsistent turnover-filled mess. And not that Peyton and the Colts didn't have their fair share of whoopsies (I'm looking at you Vinatieri!), they just seemed to have the poise under pressure. If the Bears had been up at the half, they might have had a fighting chance, they sure came out of the gate looking good. But they just didn't have the stamina to make it.
It was a fun Superbowl party, the kids were entertaining. Some were cheering for the Colts, some for the Bears.
I do have one complaint. The commercials. They were not as good as they have been in years past. I thought Sierra Mist had some good things - Jim Gaffigan was, of course, hilarious. But a lot of the commercials I'd seen before, and they weren't impressive. A lot more advertisements for upcoming shows. A lot more drug commercials - I don't remember seeing drug commercials in the past. Just overall disappointing. I can remember coming to work in years past and watching the Superbowl commercials on the web and laughing my ass off. This year I can't think of a single one that I feel the need to run right out and view. (Except the Jim Gaffigan beard combover - that's good stuff right there) What are you doing Superbowl ad people???
Prince totally brought it. I thought he was fantastic, even in the Purple Rain.
Hubby got soaked, but had a good time, I believe. And now the excitement is over and it's back to life as we know it.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Go team!
I am not going to start a firestorm of controversy over the Superbowl - but I am pulling for the Colts. I think I've made it very clear that I'm Steelers fan tried and true...this year I love both teams and will be happy with whoever wins. But deep down, I'm more a Colts fan. Please don't disown me, Bears fans...can't we all just get along?
My original plan was to have a Superbowl party - like I did last year when my beloved Steelers earned "one for the thumb." But then...then my husband, whom I hate, was offered a trip to the game, and so he is right now sitting in an airport in Dulles awaiting his connecting flight to Miami. The bastard. I mean seriously. SERIOUSLY? He's going to the f-ing SUPERBOWL. THE game ... the big show. It's almost grounds for divorce.
So now my Superbowl party is down to me and Chris and Hayden and Alex and Owen because Julie has a photo conference in Indy. WHAT? Who schedules CLASSES on Superbowl Sunday? Photo people, that's who.
But then Chris couldn't get the day off of work on Monday, and neither can Julie, so now they are not coming.
That leaves me and Alex and Owen. And Alex doesn't watch football.
So that leaves me and Owen. Hmmmmm, not exactly a party, though Owen and I have been known to scream loud enough for several people. Shocking, I know.
Now there's a decent chance my Roselawn wife and her family will be coming over...so at least that's two more adults...but 3 more kids!!! So we're still outnumbered. I told Owen he could invite some friends over, so now it's a kids party. I guess I should look at the bright side. It will be a much cheaper event. I won't need nearly as much beer. The kids usually only drink one or two and then they're done.
CHICK-CHICK-BOOM! (MRA3=DORK)
But seriously folks. I love the Superbowl...and Prince is playing halftime. Love him or hate him - he's talented and will put on a good show. He wowed the press with a mini-concert. He's definitely got the catalog to pull from - but I doubt he'll be pulling out Sexy Mother Fucker...which is a bit of a disappointment for us all.
GO TEAM!
My original plan was to have a Superbowl party - like I did last year when my beloved Steelers earned "one for the thumb." But then...then my husband, whom I hate, was offered a trip to the game, and so he is right now sitting in an airport in Dulles awaiting his connecting flight to Miami. The bastard. I mean seriously. SERIOUSLY? He's going to the f-ing SUPERBOWL. THE game ... the big show. It's almost grounds for divorce.
So now my Superbowl party is down to me and Chris and Hayden and Alex and Owen because Julie has a photo conference in Indy. WHAT? Who schedules CLASSES on Superbowl Sunday? Photo people, that's who.
But then Chris couldn't get the day off of work on Monday, and neither can Julie, so now they are not coming.
That leaves me and Alex and Owen. And Alex doesn't watch football.
So that leaves me and Owen. Hmmmmm, not exactly a party, though Owen and I have been known to scream loud enough for several people. Shocking, I know.
Now there's a decent chance my Roselawn wife and her family will be coming over...so at least that's two more adults...but 3 more kids!!! So we're still outnumbered. I told Owen he could invite some friends over, so now it's a kids party. I guess I should look at the bright side. It will be a much cheaper event. I won't need nearly as much beer. The kids usually only drink one or two and then they're done.
CHICK-CHICK-BOOM! (MRA3=DORK)
But seriously folks. I love the Superbowl...and Prince is playing halftime. Love him or hate him - he's talented and will put on a good show. He wowed the press with a mini-concert. He's definitely got the catalog to pull from - but I doubt he'll be pulling out Sexy Mother Fucker...which is a bit of a disappointment for us all.
GO TEAM!
Thursday, February 01, 2007
If I only had a brain...
So I mentioned that placement exam Alex had to take to get in to high school - to see first of all if he met their requirements for attendance and second of all where he falls in their grand scheme of things. Remember how I said he was cool as a cucumber?
We got the scores back last week - we were very pleased. He's scoring at an 11.4 grade equivalent in math, 11.5 grade equivalent in reading. I've always known he's a bright kid, and like I said...he doesn't buckle under the pressure like his mother. He only missed 2 problems in the entire math section. Brilliant. But the best was yet to come.
Yesterday we got a letter. Alex performed so well on this exam that he's in the top 11 - top 11 test scores out of 202. He got a scholarship! He was beaming. Alex is a quiet kid - keeps to himself - mostly the "don't look at me" attitude. He likes to stay in the background. But last night - last night was all about him and he knew it. He knew it and he loved it. It was fun to see him so puffed up. We called his dad, grandparents...and each time I had him read the letter over the phone. It was really great. I'm relieved because now I feel really confident in him going there.
And now for the Owen. Owen is heartbroken. He was chosen from his class to participate in the school spelling bee. He studied...and studied...and in the end the word they gave him wasn't on the list. I tried to explain to him that the list wasn't about memorization...it was about learning how words are formed so you can know how to spell anything. I explained that he didn't waste his time - that he still walked away knowing more words than the other kids who didn't get picked. I even tried the old "you should just be proud you got picked" speech. Nothing doing. It leveled him. What do I say now?
This morning I left my cell phone at home. Shocking, I know. So Kev-head was trying to call me...and the phone was ringing and ringing. Owen saw it sitting there. So he promptly picked up the house phone to call me and tell me I left my phone at home. The problem...he called my CELL PHONE to tell me I left my cell phone at home. Realizing his mistake he called Kev-head and told him. Hilarious.
So my house is literally the "wide world of sports" - we have the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. How are you guys?
We got the scores back last week - we were very pleased. He's scoring at an 11.4 grade equivalent in math, 11.5 grade equivalent in reading. I've always known he's a bright kid, and like I said...he doesn't buckle under the pressure like his mother. He only missed 2 problems in the entire math section. Brilliant. But the best was yet to come.
Yesterday we got a letter. Alex performed so well on this exam that he's in the top 11 - top 11 test scores out of 202. He got a scholarship! He was beaming. Alex is a quiet kid - keeps to himself - mostly the "don't look at me" attitude. He likes to stay in the background. But last night - last night was all about him and he knew it. He knew it and he loved it. It was fun to see him so puffed up. We called his dad, grandparents...and each time I had him read the letter over the phone. It was really great. I'm relieved because now I feel really confident in him going there.
And now for the Owen. Owen is heartbroken. He was chosen from his class to participate in the school spelling bee. He studied...and studied...and in the end the word they gave him wasn't on the list. I tried to explain to him that the list wasn't about memorization...it was about learning how words are formed so you can know how to spell anything. I explained that he didn't waste his time - that he still walked away knowing more words than the other kids who didn't get picked. I even tried the old "you should just be proud you got picked" speech. Nothing doing. It leveled him. What do I say now?
This morning I left my cell phone at home. Shocking, I know. So Kev-head was trying to call me...and the phone was ringing and ringing. Owen saw it sitting there. So he promptly picked up the house phone to call me and tell me I left my phone at home. The problem...he called my CELL PHONE to tell me I left my cell phone at home. Realizing his mistake he called Kev-head and told him. Hilarious.
So my house is literally the "wide world of sports" - we have the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. How are you guys?
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