1. I FINALLY figured out why, when I listen to Kid Rock's Cowboy on the regular radio, they do this:
I'm gonna paint the town red
And paint his wife [EDIT]
Kid Rock actually says "white" and I could NOT, for the life of me, figure out why the FCC would demand that the word white is edited out of a song.
Paint her white to be part of the KKK? [Edit because the KKK is racist?]
Paint her white to be a ghost? [Edit because ghosts are racist?]
And then, the other day as I was driving home, I had an epiphany - paint her white with SPOOGE! Right?
It's the only thing that makes marginal sense.
[I still don't understand why Eminem is edited when he raps in "Lose Yourself" about
These hoes {which I actually thought was "his boss"-thanks, metrolyrics.com!} don't want him no mo', he's cold (EDIT/product)
Because what does that mean? Cold product? He can't get a boner? Poor Eminem.]
2. I truly could not be less interested in Sex and the City - read Candace Bushnell's book years ago and was appalled at how terrible it was, so I never watched the show or the other movie. That being said, I have become nearly obsessed with reading reviews of how awful the new movie is. Part of me is deliciously schadenfreud-y. Another part is wondering why everyone is so late to the party. Still another part of me is wondering what, exactly, people expected from this brand. Why the surprise?
3. I have so much cockadoodie work to do that I am pretty close to panicking. I'm marginally closer to going fetal and taking a nap. What I should do is edge myself closer to the point where I shower and become a productive person, but that couch is calling me. I've already put in what feels like a full day. I should unionize and make sure I get time and a half for the rest of it.
4. I have several packets of seeds [flowers AND vegetables, impressive, right? It's like I'm Amish!] sitting in my office, waiting to be planted. I keep telling myself that I'm waiting to make sure there isn't another freeze, but after this week's 85+ weather, I think I'm kidding myself.
Oh! Brilliant plan! Make the girl plant them. That way, she's getting involved in nature and learning a skill, and I don't have to get uber-cranky because the outdoors is trying to touch me.
5. I don't have a number 5. I just feel like a list of 5 things is marginally more imposing than a list of 4 things. Even if the 5th thing is random and none of the other 4 things actually go together. Perhaps I am fooling myself. Perhaps.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Why Being the Mom Sucks
Let's just say that you are in the bathroom and you change the toilet paper roll.
Let's further say that when you toss the empty cardboard tube into the trash can you happen to miss [you are amazing, but not infallible].
Let's continue to say that you are in a rush and you neglect to pick up the empty tube and think, "O.k., no big deal, I'll just grab it later."
Let's meander along as days go by and you keep forgetting to pick up that empty tube, but you see it when you use the bathroom, and you hit a point where you are wondering if it's a figment of your imagination and if you are the only one who can see it because there are 2 other people who use this bathroom [granted, not with your frequency - thanks, mother-bladder!] and neither of them has bothered to pick it up, so maybe it doesn't actually exist, perhaps it is a hologram like Will.i.am on CNN during the election [please explain this to me - no, don't, I don't care].
Because otherwise it means that you, as the mom, are responsible for picking up everything ever ever ever and even though you pick up stuff after the husband and the girl and the cats, no one, not even the cats, will pick up after you.
And THAT'S why being the mom sucks.
Let's further say that when you toss the empty cardboard tube into the trash can you happen to miss [you are amazing, but not infallible].
Let's continue to say that you are in a rush and you neglect to pick up the empty tube and think, "O.k., no big deal, I'll just grab it later."
Let's meander along as days go by and you keep forgetting to pick up that empty tube, but you see it when you use the bathroom, and you hit a point where you are wondering if it's a figment of your imagination and if you are the only one who can see it because there are 2 other people who use this bathroom [granted, not with your frequency - thanks, mother-bladder!] and neither of them has bothered to pick it up, so maybe it doesn't actually exist, perhaps it is a hologram like Will.i.am on CNN during the election [please explain this to me - no, don't, I don't care].
Because otherwise it means that you, as the mom, are responsible for picking up everything ever ever ever and even though you pick up stuff after the husband and the girl and the cats, no one, not even the cats, will pick up after you.
And THAT'S why being the mom sucks.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Return of the Migraine
It's back.
Started last night and is a dull throb behind my left eye right now. Of course, today is the day when I have a billion things to do because I had to quickly juggle and reschedule yesterday when the girl called me from school at 9:15am because she was sick and needed to come home.
Which was fine, I'm certainly not one of those "Stick it out, walk it off, you'll be fine" type of parents. I'm more the coddle coddle coddle type of parent. We'll see how this comes out. [Actually, for all my coddling, she's pretty self-aware & not a baby - probably because the husband is adamant that she not turn out that way, and so tends to toughen her up. Jerk. That's my baby!]
ANYWAY, so I had to reschedule my mammogram for later that morning, and reschedule meetings for today, and blah de blah life. The minor hilarity was that, because of the impending mammogram, I didn't put on deodorant in the morning [evidently it interferes with the machine? How dumb is the machine that it can't recognize the difference between cancer & Secret? Or is deodorant the machine's kryptonite, rendering it useless?] -
Where was I? Oh, didn't put on deodorant, and then the girl called and got knocked off my game and then I FORGOT to put on deodorant on a 85 degree day [you're welcome, America!] so that this morning at about 5:30, when my head was really pounding, I went to the kitchen to get my icy gel mask for my aching head [love this greatest invention ever] and I spent at least 7 minutes wandering around, sniffing and smelling and wondering WHAT in the world that smell was only to decide fuck it, whatever it is, I don't care, I'll deal with it later, I'm going back to bed.
Whereupon I realized, while walking down the hall, that that smell? Was me.
Started last night and is a dull throb behind my left eye right now. Of course, today is the day when I have a billion things to do because I had to quickly juggle and reschedule yesterday when the girl called me from school at 9:15am because she was sick and needed to come home.
Which was fine, I'm certainly not one of those "Stick it out, walk it off, you'll be fine" type of parents. I'm more the coddle coddle coddle type of parent. We'll see how this comes out. [Actually, for all my coddling, she's pretty self-aware & not a baby - probably because the husband is adamant that she not turn out that way, and so tends to toughen her up. Jerk. That's my baby!]
ANYWAY, so I had to reschedule my mammogram for later that morning, and reschedule meetings for today, and blah de blah life. The minor hilarity was that, because of the impending mammogram, I didn't put on deodorant in the morning [evidently it interferes with the machine? How dumb is the machine that it can't recognize the difference between cancer & Secret? Or is deodorant the machine's kryptonite, rendering it useless?] -
Where was I? Oh, didn't put on deodorant, and then the girl called and got knocked off my game and then I FORGOT to put on deodorant on a 85 degree day [you're welcome, America!] so that this morning at about 5:30, when my head was really pounding, I went to the kitchen to get my icy gel mask for my aching head [love this greatest invention ever] and I spent at least 7 minutes wandering around, sniffing and smelling and wondering WHAT in the world that smell was only to decide fuck it, whatever it is, I don't care, I'll deal with it later, I'm going back to bed.
Whereupon I realized, while walking down the hall, that that smell? Was me.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Migraine Sunday. Pass it on.
So today I've had a bitch of a migraine. It's making everything harder to do. Like typing or thinking or planning beyond one step at a time.
For example, I wanted to take my bowl into the kitchen, grab my nail polish, get some meds and sit back down in the living room. That took 3 tries and countless missteps, turning around and around in my small house, forgetting where things were. It's not pretty.
I'm going to do my nails and hope for the best. At least my nails will be pretty.
For example, I wanted to take my bowl into the kitchen, grab my nail polish, get some meds and sit back down in the living room. That took 3 tries and countless missteps, turning around and around in my small house, forgetting where things were. It's not pretty.
I'm going to do my nails and hope for the best. At least my nails will be pretty.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
What's that? You want answers?
Idea stolen from Sarah and the Goon Squad because I have a headache and seeing clearly is difficult - actual thought is close to impossible. I already almost put the ice cube trays in the pantry.
1) Name the first grown up book you read.
I honestly can't remember, but I know that my mom would bring home bags of books from where she worked, and they were all wildly inappropriate for pre-teens [in her defense, she was given the books and English was not her first, second or third language]. Let's say Valley of the Dolls.
2) What is your favorite movie with Kevin Bacon in it?
I had to check IMDB, because bastard's been in everything. I'm not a big fan, but he was excellent as himself on Will & Grace. I know, technically not a movie, so my next choice would be Animal House.
3) Name one song that you love but you are embarrassed to admit it.
One Week by Barenaked Ladies
4) What was the best meal of your life?
Christmas dinner 2009. I made it and it was incredible [not to toot my own horn or anything, but it was excellent]. Everything came out perfectly - the tenderloin, the mushroom & shallot gravy, the mashed potatoes, the chocolate chip cheesecakes, all the other side dishes and appetizers. So good. Now I'm starving.
5) What was the first concert you ever saw live?
Echo & the Bunnymen when I was 14. SO FUCKING AWESOME. The girl I went with had never heard of them and was very straight-laced. She could not comprehend all the New Wave cool kids all around.
That's all I've got for today. I'm going to do some work. Or nap. Or nap while working.
Monday, May 17, 2010
So Many Thoughts, So Little Thinking
Today, I made:
~~~~~~~~~~
LOVE Joel McHale and The Soup. Never really watch reality t.v. or daytime talk shows, but I get my fill from watching these clips. That's plenty.
~~~~~~~~
Today I wore bright blue eyeshadow. I like doing that, even though I'm technically old enough to have worn bright blue eyeshadow un-ironically in the 1980s. Although I didn't. Strictly black eyeliner, black mascara, red lipstick. Sort of like Robert Smith, but with different colored hair [depending on the month]
Also, my hair is curlier. It does look pretty much like that when I get up in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~
Started reading Queen Bees and Wannabees. I thought, for some reason, that it was fiction [because it was the basis of Mean Girls, I guess]. I asked the Girl if she'd had any of the problems listed in the book [mean bitchy friends, etc.] and she said no. Of course, she may be exhibiting one of the issues - lying to me. Who knows.
~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of the Girl, she has a RIDICULOUSLY strong sense of right and wrong. We watch the t.v. show Bones [we hide our eyes during the gore. We've also learned not to watch during dinner.]. We both like Booth [what's his name - David Boreanaz]. And now I've found that he's a slimy adulterer.
I haven't told her. She'll hate Boreanaz and refuse to watch him on principle, and I kind of want to keep watching. Is this wrong? Nope. I don't think so.
~~~~~~~~~
That's it. I'm out.
- Blueberry muffins
- Ground turkey baked ziti
- Vegetarian baked ziti
- Sauteed chicken
- Giant salad
~~~~~~~~~~
LOVE Joel McHale and The Soup. Never really watch reality t.v. or daytime talk shows, but I get my fill from watching these clips. That's plenty.
~~~~~~~~
Today I wore bright blue eyeshadow. I like doing that, even though I'm technically old enough to have worn bright blue eyeshadow un-ironically in the 1980s. Although I didn't. Strictly black eyeliner, black mascara, red lipstick. Sort of like Robert Smith, but with different colored hair [depending on the month]
Also, my hair is curlier. It does look pretty much like that when I get up in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~
Started reading Queen Bees and Wannabees. I thought, for some reason, that it was fiction [because it was the basis of Mean Girls, I guess]. I asked the Girl if she'd had any of the problems listed in the book [mean bitchy friends, etc.] and she said no. Of course, she may be exhibiting one of the issues - lying to me. Who knows.
~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of the Girl, she has a RIDICULOUSLY strong sense of right and wrong. We watch the t.v. show Bones [we hide our eyes during the gore. We've also learned not to watch during dinner.]. We both like Booth [what's his name - David Boreanaz]. And now I've found that he's a slimy adulterer.
I haven't told her. She'll hate Boreanaz and refuse to watch him on principle, and I kind of want to keep watching. Is this wrong? Nope. I don't think so.
~~~~~~~~~
That's it. I'm out.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Marie Claire + Math = What Part of $100 Don't You Understand?
So, I've been getting some girlie magazines [not porno girlie, just regular chick magazines].
One of them I get is Marie Claire, which I generally like because it's less offensive than most DIET DIET YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO HAVE SEX WITH OR ATTRACT MEN [OR WOMEN, WHICH I WROTE INITIALLY AND HOW AM I NOW STUCK ON CAPS LOCK? There, that's better.] magazines.
Anyway, Marie Claire is now on my list [similar to Nixon's enemies list, but without the anti-Semitism] because of this feature they have:
Get the Look for $100
Where they show some runway outfit and then show you options to get that look for $100.
EXCEPT.
You can't get the outfit for $100.
You can get PARTS of the outfit for less than $100. Say, $89 shoes. But that leaves $11 for the rest of your outfit, which DOES NOT EXIST ON THAT PAGE.
So, Marie Claire, either you need to re-title this feature OR you need to actually put together a similar outfit for $100. Because you are NOT making friends, here.
One of them I get is Marie Claire, which I generally like because it's less offensive than most DIET DIET YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO HAVE SEX WITH OR ATTRACT MEN [OR WOMEN, WHICH I WROTE INITIALLY AND HOW AM I NOW STUCK ON CAPS LOCK? There, that's better.] magazines.
Anyway, Marie Claire is now on my list [similar to Nixon's enemies list, but without the anti-Semitism] because of this feature they have:
Get the Look for $100
Where they show some runway outfit and then show you options to get that look for $100.
EXCEPT.
You can't get the outfit for $100.
You can get PARTS of the outfit for less than $100. Say, $89 shoes. But that leaves $11 for the rest of your outfit, which DOES NOT EXIST ON THAT PAGE.
So, Marie Claire, either you need to re-title this feature OR you need to actually put together a similar outfit for $100. Because you are NOT making friends, here.
Friday, May 14, 2010
I have no idea what title goes here.
This is my third fourth fifth attempt at a blog post. FUCK YOU BLOGGER, for LOSING my genius last attempt!
Today I:
1. Met a friend for lunch. We met at one restaurant. Ordered. Waited for 40 minutes in a NEARLY EMPTY RESTAURANT [Seriously. There was one other table there.] for our order before I finally said, fuck this, let's go to the coney island next door [Yes, we ate at a strip mall. I live in the Land of Strip Malls. Our official bird is the pigeon and there is a lighted parking lot on our flag.] because our order was nowhere near ready.
[The reason for this, explained as we were leaving, was that they had a $900 carry out order to prepare. Um, o.k.? So?]
So we went two doors down and were seated and ordered and served our food within 10 minutes [we ordered basically the same thing - salad with chicken for me, burger for my friend]. Even though the place was FULL and I'm assuming that there were at least $900 worth of food being cooked before we got there.
Now, I get that you get busy, and I don't want to blame our waiter, even though he could have apologized for the wait say, 20 minutes before he did. But I've worked in a restaurant, and while I know cooks can be assholes, slipping in a salad and burger order for people WHO ARE WAITING IN YOUR RESTAURANT shouldn't be that hard.
The owner/manager saw us as we left and his only apology-ish thing was to say sorry, but . . . whatever.
The other lunch was fine. And it was nice to see my friend.
2. Took the girl to get fitted for contact lenses. She's been going to the same eye doctor for years and her eyes keep getting worse and worse - for a while, we were getting new prescriptions every 6 months. GOODBYE MONEY!
Anyway, I find contacts disgusting and creepy. But I stood there as she tried to get them out, getting more and more frustrated [because not only is she a perfectionist who thinks she should do everything perfectly right the first time she tries, but ALSO SHE HAS PMS. GUESS WHO ELSE DOES? YES! MOMMY, TOO!] and more and more angry, so I tried to tell her to calm down, take a breath and when I went to rub her back, she PUSHED MY ARM AWAY.
Damn, girl. THISCLOSE to getting smacked, if I was the type of parent who believed in corporal punishment. But I took a deep breath and calmed down and reminded myself that if I started yelling at her at the eye doctor, I would look like the bitch, even though SHE was the one who pushed MY soothing arm away, so I relaxed.
And then mocked her in the parking lot and all the way home for being PMS-y and pushing me away. I love being a parent.
3. Stopped at our library's book sale with the Girl and picked up other people's discards. I got some hardcover Fitzgeralds. Remember when publishing companies put out sets of books by an other with matchy-matchy pretty covers? These are dark blue clothbound books with gold writing. Pretty AND they make you think!
I'll probably go back on Sunday for the $5 bag of books deal and get some cheesy books, if I can find some that aren't disgusting. I have serious issues with other people's stuff. I can't believe I did all my shopping in high school and college at thrift stores. It gives me the shimmy shammies just thinking about it.
Today I:
1. Met a friend for lunch. We met at one restaurant. Ordered. Waited for 40 minutes in a NEARLY EMPTY RESTAURANT [Seriously. There was one other table there.] for our order before I finally said, fuck this, let's go to the coney island next door [Yes, we ate at a strip mall. I live in the Land of Strip Malls. Our official bird is the pigeon and there is a lighted parking lot on our flag.] because our order was nowhere near ready.
[The reason for this, explained as we were leaving, was that they had a $900 carry out order to prepare. Um, o.k.? So?]
So we went two doors down and were seated and ordered and served our food within 10 minutes [we ordered basically the same thing - salad with chicken for me, burger for my friend]. Even though the place was FULL and I'm assuming that there were at least $900 worth of food being cooked before we got there.
Now, I get that you get busy, and I don't want to blame our waiter, even though he could have apologized for the wait say, 20 minutes before he did. But I've worked in a restaurant, and while I know cooks can be assholes, slipping in a salad and burger order for people WHO ARE WAITING IN YOUR RESTAURANT shouldn't be that hard.
The owner/manager saw us as we left and his only apology-ish thing was to say sorry, but . . . whatever.
The other lunch was fine. And it was nice to see my friend.
2. Took the girl to get fitted for contact lenses. She's been going to the same eye doctor for years and her eyes keep getting worse and worse - for a while, we were getting new prescriptions every 6 months. GOODBYE MONEY!
Anyway, I find contacts disgusting and creepy. But I stood there as she tried to get them out, getting more and more frustrated [because not only is she a perfectionist who thinks she should do everything perfectly right the first time she tries, but ALSO SHE HAS PMS. GUESS WHO ELSE DOES? YES! MOMMY, TOO!] and more and more angry, so I tried to tell her to calm down, take a breath and when I went to rub her back, she PUSHED MY ARM AWAY.
Damn, girl. THISCLOSE to getting smacked, if I was the type of parent who believed in corporal punishment. But I took a deep breath and calmed down and reminded myself that if I started yelling at her at the eye doctor, I would look like the bitch, even though SHE was the one who pushed MY soothing arm away, so I relaxed.
And then mocked her in the parking lot and all the way home for being PMS-y and pushing me away. I love being a parent.
3. Stopped at our library's book sale with the Girl and picked up other people's discards. I got some hardcover Fitzgeralds. Remember when publishing companies put out sets of books by an other with matchy-matchy pretty covers? These are dark blue clothbound books with gold writing. Pretty AND they make you think!
I'll probably go back on Sunday for the $5 bag of books deal and get some cheesy books, if I can find some that aren't disgusting. I have serious issues with other people's stuff. I can't believe I did all my shopping in high school and college at thrift stores. It gives me the shimmy shammies just thinking about it.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I fucking hate Wednesdays [Late Edition. Yes, I know it's now Thursday.]
1. Buick is the Official Car of the olds. Seriously. I feel myself sucked into the blinker-leaving-on, 35-mph-in-a-45-zone, lane-weaving vortex of old people anytime I see one of those beige [and they are ALWAYS beige - what, is there no other color, Buick? Are you trying to soothe the other drivers on the road or hide the shitty driving behind a theoretically innocuous color?] behemoths. I hate that car.
2. There is a special place in hell for people who go by Dr. Snotty McIdiot when they are not medical physicians. I'll let dentists have the honorific. But PhDs? Nope. And I say this as someone who HAS a doctorate. When someone asks for a doctor, they do not mean they need help from someone who spent five years parsing the meaning of the use of a trebuchet v. a catapult in warfare. They are generally looking for someone to help staunch the bleeding.
2.a. This goes double for people who then refer to themselves in the third person as Dr. Snotty McIdiot.
2.b. There may be special dispensation for Dr. Stephen Colbert, D.F.A., depending on my mood that day.
2.c. I'm divided on its use in the classroom. I guess it's o.k. We'll see.
3. This is what happens when you don't regulate and don't put teeth in the regulators: Oil refineries fucking the coastline; mining companies fucking the planet and their workers; banks fucking homeowners and the regulators; fucking fuckery.
4. I have an intense distaste for morning shows - any news show, really - where they push their cameras into the grief of families dealing with a loss. Give people some privacy and some respect.
5. Can Sex in whatever please just go away now? It is the most offensive show, ever. Bad writing, bad acting, really, really, REALLY bad fashion. Just stop.
6. I smashed my head into the fridge this morning. That felt great.
2. There is a special place in hell for people who go by Dr. Snotty McIdiot when they are not medical physicians. I'll let dentists have the honorific. But PhDs? Nope. And I say this as someone who HAS a doctorate. When someone asks for a doctor, they do not mean they need help from someone who spent five years parsing the meaning of the use of a trebuchet v. a catapult in warfare. They are generally looking for someone to help staunch the bleeding.
2.a. This goes double for people who then refer to themselves in the third person as Dr. Snotty McIdiot.
2.b. There may be special dispensation for Dr. Stephen Colbert, D.F.A., depending on my mood that day.
2.c. I'm divided on its use in the classroom. I guess it's o.k. We'll see.
3. This is what happens when you don't regulate and don't put teeth in the regulators: Oil refineries fucking the coastline; mining companies fucking the planet and their workers; banks fucking homeowners and the regulators; fucking fuckery.
4. I have an intense distaste for morning shows - any news show, really - where they push their cameras into the grief of families dealing with a loss. Give people some privacy and some respect.
5. Can Sex in whatever please just go away now? It is the most offensive show, ever. Bad writing, bad acting, really, really, REALLY bad fashion. Just stop.
6. I smashed my head into the fridge this morning. That felt great.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
What happened to me?
Last night I attended my first blogger meet up with BOSSY and a number of area bloggers - whose names and URLs I neglected to get because I am lame.
It was fun - very chatty and very giggly. LOTS of photos taken. I, of course, did not bring my camera because the battery had died and I didn't recharge it and I forgot to grab the little camera my daughter is using. I have some photos from my iPhone which I'll post later. They are nice and blurry.
Today is rainy rainy rainy. It's also the day that JEN LANCASTER is coming to down for a book signing. I'm heading out soon to get my wristband and then I'll take the girl with me to the signing tonight. She better not have any homework.
Also, the rain better end before her softball game this afternoon. Yech.
It was fun - very chatty and very giggly. LOTS of photos taken. I, of course, did not bring my camera because the battery had died and I didn't recharge it and I forgot to grab the little camera my daughter is using. I have some photos from my iPhone which I'll post later. They are nice and blurry.
Today is rainy rainy rainy. It's also the day that JEN LANCASTER is coming to down for a book signing. I'm heading out soon to get my wristband and then I'll take the girl with me to the signing tonight. She better not have any homework.
Also, the rain better end before her softball game this afternoon. Yech.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Decisions, decisions
Today [well, actually last night] I decided that instead of just feeling like a shit ass failure, I'm going to do something wonderful and positive. I'm going to write. I can't control someone giving me a job, but I can control that. I can write. I love to write and I love how happy it makes me.
And I'm so fucking tired of hating people for their successes. Seriously. I was reading about a writer - a writer whose first book I read about 5 years ago and really enjoyed - who got to interview one of my favorite writers. And I cannot even explain to you the hatred and self-loathing that engendered.
Why is SHE so fucking lucky? Why is SHE so fucking successful?
Why is my life so full of shit?
And then I realized that it didn't matter. That there are things I can do - not including curl up in a nice, snug fetal ball and wail at the fates - and that I should do them. It may not fix everything - it may not fix anything, but it will be action and it will be doing something and right now, that's what I've got.
I'm just tired of being a bitter, hateful person. I really am.
[This is not to say that I will cease from being a snarky bitchy person, because there is only so far a person can change. Plus, otherwise, how boring?]
And I'm so fucking tired of hating people for their successes. Seriously. I was reading about a writer - a writer whose first book I read about 5 years ago and really enjoyed - who got to interview one of my favorite writers. And I cannot even explain to you the hatred and self-loathing that engendered.
Why is SHE so fucking lucky? Why is SHE so fucking successful?
Why is my life so full of shit?
And then I realized that it didn't matter. That there are things I can do - not including curl up in a nice, snug fetal ball and wail at the fates - and that I should do them. It may not fix everything - it may not fix anything, but it will be action and it will be doing something and right now, that's what I've got.
I'm just tired of being a bitter, hateful person. I really am.
[This is not to say that I will cease from being a snarky bitchy person, because there is only so far a person can change. Plus, otherwise, how boring?]
Sunday, May 9, 2010
UPDATED: The Husband [kind of] saves his bacon!
So far today, the following people have wished me happy Mother's Day:
My daughter
My mother
My sister
My aunt
My cousin
Several friends.
Who hasn't?
My husband.
Asshole.
I'm buying myself something wonderful.
UPDATED:
Husband ended up buying dinner [which I had to ORDER, jesus, like a migrant worker!] and gave me a gift card. No actual card.
You know what? Still fuck him.
My daughter
My mother
My sister
My aunt
My cousin
Several friends.
Who hasn't?
My husband.
Asshole.
I'm buying myself something wonderful.
UPDATED:
Husband ended up buying dinner [which I had to ORDER, jesus, like a migrant worker!] and gave me a gift card. No actual card.
You know what? Still fuck him.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
That's Enough of THAT
I was at my daughter's middle school sporting event today and WOW, I forgot what bitches girls can be. We just have the one child, and when she has friends over, I tend to leave them alone while eavesdropping and I have to say, either she hangs with a pretty good crowd, or they are really good at dissembling or I am deaf.
I know it is hard to struggle through puberty. I know it is even harder to try and be yourself and figure out who yourself is so that you can be that [what?]. But sweet merciful crap, I don't want to be seated next to someone who is going through that struggle. I dealt with it once, and am dealing with it again with the girl, I don't want front row seats to EVERYONE'S burgeoning awakening.
Next time, I'm watching from the car.
I know it is hard to struggle through puberty. I know it is even harder to try and be yourself and figure out who yourself is so that you can be that [what?]. But sweet merciful crap, I don't want to be seated next to someone who is going through that struggle. I dealt with it once, and am dealing with it again with the girl, I don't want front row seats to EVERYONE'S burgeoning awakening.
Next time, I'm watching from the car.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Things I like. And Do Not Like.
I am not a fan of the whole manicure/pedicure thing.
I love having painted nails, but I prefer to do them myself. I have yet to have a mani/pedi and not think: Huh. I could have done that better myself.
Also, nails salons are sooooo smelly. I cannot tolerate that chemical smell. Even at a spa, the stench of the remover seems so much stronger than at home, where I work in a hazmat suit and in a well ventilated area.
Also, if someone's going to spend that much time touching parts of my body, there had better be more of an end result than OPI Plugged-in Plum [although have you seen the OPI Alice in Wonderland colors? GLITTER IN A BOTTLE!].
Also, I'd rather spend money for people touching me on a massage. No. Not that kind of a massage.
Also, when my cousin was studying to get her license to do nails [wow, like 20 years ago] I was her guinea pig, and that really took all the delight out of having my nails done.
So I do them myself, usually once a week. It's my down time.
I had an argument in college with a guy who could not comprehend that I was a feminist because I painted my nails and wore makeup. Also that I painted my nails, wore makeup but didn't shave my legs or armpits. He could not understand how I could pick and choose - if I was going to wear lipstick, I should shave my legs. It only stood to reason. Right?
Um. No. I LIKE wearing lipstick and doing my nails. I do NOT like shaving my legs. Poor guy, couldn't understand the concept of CHOICE.
Obviously, we never dated.
I love having painted nails, but I prefer to do them myself. I have yet to have a mani/pedi and not think: Huh. I could have done that better myself.
Also, nails salons are sooooo smelly. I cannot tolerate that chemical smell. Even at a spa, the stench of the remover seems so much stronger than at home, where I work in a hazmat suit and in a well ventilated area.
Also, if someone's going to spend that much time touching parts of my body, there had better be more of an end result than OPI Plugged-in Plum [although have you seen the OPI Alice in Wonderland colors? GLITTER IN A BOTTLE!].
Also, I'd rather spend money for people touching me on a massage. No. Not that kind of a massage.
Also, when my cousin was studying to get her license to do nails [wow, like 20 years ago] I was her guinea pig, and that really took all the delight out of having my nails done.
So I do them myself, usually once a week. It's my down time.
I had an argument in college with a guy who could not comprehend that I was a feminist because I painted my nails and wore makeup. Also that I painted my nails, wore makeup but didn't shave my legs or armpits. He could not understand how I could pick and choose - if I was going to wear lipstick, I should shave my legs. It only stood to reason. Right?
Um. No. I LIKE wearing lipstick and doing my nails. I do NOT like shaving my legs. Poor guy, couldn't understand the concept of CHOICE.
Obviously, we never dated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)