You're boring me

Self-Help For Dummies

2010-03-05T09:48:00.005-06:00

I have really tried to be a better person. I have tried being grateful for the little things...like sunshine in February. I have tried starting out every day with a new outlook. I have tried pretending to read self-help books. (I said "pretending to read" because anyone that knows me knows that I think self-help books are a load of crap...which they are. Seriously, if you buy a self-help book, aren't you going to pick the one that tells you what you want to hear or what you already know? Of course you are. So, save your money and spend it on something that will REALLY help you...like booze.)
So, I decided that I would forgo all the "planned" ways to change my life and do something a lot more free-form. Yes, my friends, I went with the lazy route to changing one's life because that way you don't have to adhere to any rules, or even guidelines, for that matter. I mean, if you say that you are going to wake up every day with a smile and then one day you don't then you have failed. BUT, if you go on some nebulous "spiritual journey" then you can pretty much do whatever you want and just say it's a part of the trip, which, in and of itself makes the whole thing doomed. However, I still thought that it was worth a try and went on my little spiritual journey unbeknownst to anyone but myself.

I decided that I would try to be less materialistic. I would think about all the poor people in Haiti and be thankful for my stupid house with the shitty threadbare carpet and the light fixtures that don't fucking work. I would be happy with my 5 year old Old Navy pants that are fraying at the cuffs and my hand-me-down shirts from my friend Laura whose style is more Las Vegas than a showgirl. I would be excited about my stupid fucking job and grateful to have it.

Well, you can see where this is going. My spiritual journey consisted of a lot of soul-searching and the conclusion I came up with was: Spiritual journeys are stupid. Once I was at peace with that, I bitched to my husband about the house, I painted my toenails black and I went to a tanning salon to take the edge off my post-spiritual-journey paleness.

Now I feel much better.

In other news, I also turned my back on my solemn promise never to watch Jay Leno on the Tonight Show (because I think he's a tool for what he did to Conan O'Brien) and watched his show just to see Adam Lambert.

This is not the best picture of him from the performance, but check out that eye make-up! This totally clinches the deal for me...I am dressing up like Adam Lambert for Halloween. I am going to get some Swarovski crystals and glue those suckers right to my face. I am hoping I can talk my whole family into being Adam Lambert. Now, that would be a picture for our Christmas Card!
Speaking of Adam Lambert, could American Idol SUCK any more this season? The best part of it so far is Ellen because she is so funny, but her big ears are starting to be too much of a distraction for me.Now, don't get me wrong; I love Ellen and think she's great on Idol, but she needs to grow her hair out a little. Watch Idol next week...I bet you will be staring at Ellen's ears now.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

2010-01-11T19:15:00.014-06:00

Well, if you know me at all, then you know that I am endlessly bitching about my job. I used to call it my SAJ (Stupid Ass Job) but I have since upgraded it to SFJ (Stupid Fucking Job). I tell people that I keep trying to get fired, but that damn work-ethic that my father instilled in me just keeps rearing it's ugly head. I can't seem to screw around enough to get in trouble. So, I am going for insubordination.
Let me backtrack just a little...if you don't know what my SFJ is I will fill you in. I work in the financial aid department at our local junior college. I do a variety of things but, as you might guess, a lot of what I do involves numbers and tax returns and loans and percentages and shit like that. Considering my prowess at anything mathematical or precise (Just ask my friend Pat how fabulously I did in Economics in college. I hate to keep bringing this up, but he actually told me I was STUPID when he was trying to tutor me. He continues to deny it, but I remember it like it was yesterday. The truth is, I wasn't being stupid, I just didn't give a crap.) you can imagine how interesting I find my job. However, I don't just look at financial aid files all day because my boss discovered that my true gift is "customer service" and problem solving. I know, I know...I said customer service. Apparently my boss didn't notice that I am surly, bitchy and hung over most of the time.
Anyway, I answer all the emails for the department and sometimes I deign to answer the phone. And, I have discovered that what I have always said is, in fact, true: People are stupid. I love it when people call up and want to get some of that "Obama money". Like Obama got elected, decided that everyone should get to go to school for free and now all you have to do is call your local financial aid office and we will just write you a check. Because these stupid idiots don't know how the government works. Welcome to junior college.
So, last week a student called up and wanted to know why we were revoking his financial aid. I did not take this call personally, my colleague did. She was patiently trying to explain to the student that you cannot receive federal aid if you don't maintain a 2.0 grade point average (which isn't that difficult in junior college. I think a monkey could maintain a 2.0 GPA at our school if they got the right classes) complete at least 67% of your classes and/or achieve your associate's degree or transfer by the time you have taken 90 credit hours. So, I could tell that this student was giving my co-worker a really bad time so I went over to her and told her to put the student on hold. She did and told me the student's problem and showed me his file, etc. I looked and saw that this student had been at our institution for a number of years. Seriously folks, it's a two-year junior college. He had been skating by with less than a 2.0 GPA for a number of semesters and my boss continued to allow him to have financial aid until he got his shit together, which the student did. However, my boss made it very clear that if the student fucked up one more time he was not to get any more aid. Well, the student did sort-of fuck up and his aid was revoked. I carefully read my boss's comments about how this kid was not to get any more aid UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!
So, I immediately restored the kid's financial aid. I totally disregarded my boss's comments and told my co-worker to tell the kid he had his financial aid back. I then wrote a note in his physical file that I was responsible for over-riding my boss and I made a note in his computer file as well. I told my co-worker to tell the little snot that I restored his aid and I assured her that I was going to take full responsibility. She tensely did so and hung up. Now, keep in mind that she is a full time employee and I am a part-time temp who works 20 hours a week, if I feel like it and I just come and go as I choose. I don't like to have set hours or a set day off...so I just let everyone know from day to day if I will be there the next day. Whatever.
So...my co-worker was pretty nervous about this whole thing so I said, "It's okay. Give me the file and I will go and tell the boss what I did."
Here is the conversation I had with my boss (who is a man, by the way):

Me: "Hey, can you move your coat off the chair so I can sit down and tell you what I just did?"
Boss: "What do you mean?"
Me: "Well, this student was on the phone and he was being a real dick..."
Boss (interrupting): "A dick? That's not really a very descriptive term."
Me: "Um...okay. How about prick?"
Boss: "Well..."
Me: "I could call him what I call my ex-husband."
Boss: "What's that?"
Me: "Asshole. Of course, that's what I call my current husband too, so..."
Boss: "You better tell me what happened before I get on your list of assholes."
Me: (Pause, during which I narrowed my eyes and looked right in my boss's eyes) "What makes you think you aren't already on it?"

Can you say INSUBORDINATION??
But, he did not fire me. He laughed like I was the most delightful thing he had ever come across. Then I followed up that exchange with the information that I had completely ignored his explicit instructions and restored this kid's aid.
Again, not enough to get fired. He actually said that he never would have even questioned it if he saw my initials on the file. Wow. I literally think I would have to come in drunk and set the place on fire to get canned.

So I have this damn job that pays well, that I do well, but makes me miserable.

The highlight of my day today was going to the gym and walking on the treadmill. All the treadmills have little flat-screen televisions attached to them. I always turn it off and stare at my reflection in the monitor. Today I had my favorite Morrissey t-shirt on
(it says "Je Suis Morrissey" on the front and on the back it says "It's Morrissey's town, we just live in it." It's just plain black with white writing and I love it. Morrissey wore the exact same t-shirt for an encore when I saw him from the front row and I knew then that I had to have one too) and I could see my face and about to the bottom of my ribcage in the monitor. I put my IPod on shuffle and started walking. The first song was Fever by Adam Lambert. It's a sassy dance song being played in gay bars all over the country. I love that song, so I was looking at myself in the monitor and mouthing the words and winking at myself. I must have looked like a fucking lunatic.
The next few songs were by The Smiths, Morrissey, Madonna, Morrissey again, Kylie Minogue and George Michael.
Deep down inside I am a gay man.
And let me just say this...if I were a gay man I would be the emo, black fingernail polish wearing, make-up loving type. Just like Adam Lambert. Because he knows what I have always been vowing is true...everyone looks better with make-up on. Give me a break. I love it when celebrity magazines have their "Stars without Make-up!" special issue. Then they put pictures of celebrities with their make-up on next to a picture of the same celebrity without make-up. The funny thing is, they usually ask the question, "Better with or without?" and they have statistics for each celebrity. Like..."67% of people think Jessica Alba looks better WITHOUT make-up than with it!"
No fucking way. Everybody looks better with makeup.
Case in point: If it weren't for a very talented make-up artist, a fortunate camera angle and an artfully done upward glance, Renee is a very, very plain Jane...and I am being generous.

In any case, maybe tomorrow I can get fired. Any suggestions?

That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore

2009-10-26T18:15:00.009-06:00

Here is Bronte's new soccer picture. Doesn't she look great? I am glad she is such a grinner and not one of those kids who has to plaster a big smile on her face for every photo op. This way you can't see how goofy her teeth are. You know what I mean...when a kid at this age starts to get in her adult teeth, her mouth just looks weird. So, grinning is good.

Tony is the coach of Bronte's soccer team. I volunteer him to coach for everything. It started when Bronte played T-Ball in kindergarten and has just become a tradition. I decide Bronte is going to play a sport and then Tony counts the minutes before I tell him that he's coaching. He used to be pissed about it, but now he is just resigned to it. At least I know that if Tony coaches then Bronte will actually learn a sport rather than just worry about what the post-game snack is. Anyway, this year his co-coach is my good friend Gina. She has coached soccer with him before and last season they also coached softball together. The reason they coach together is to be sure that our daughters get on the same team. The problem with the two of them coaching together is that they are both ultra-competitive and this house soccer league is NOT competitive. It's one of those stupid pussy leagues in which, if your team gets up by 3 goals then you are supposed to "dial it back". That means that you should tell the girls to play with their left feet only, or put your really weak players in at the forward positions. The problem with this is, even our weakest players are so much better than some of the best players on some of the teams we play that we still wind up kicking their asses.

I have a real problem with this. I think that if a team is well coached and the kids play well they ought to be allowed to score. I'm not saying that the score should be 20-0, but if we win 5-0 who gives a shit? So, are we supposed to tell the kids, "Now don't try too hard because we don't want to hurt any one's feelings!" What a load of crap. If our team is better, well then we are just better and we should be allowed to win. We aren't even supposed to keep score, for crying out loud. So, my question is, if we aren't keeping score then how do we know when we are up by more than 3 goals? If I was the coach I would just play dumb and let the kids score as often as possible. Then when I was called on it I would say, "Well, I wasn't keeping score. I am just here for the fun of the game and the post-game snack! Who gives a flying fuck anyway seeing as everyone gets the same lame-ass trophy at the end of the season even if they SUCK!" I daresay that is why tony won't even let me help at the practices, let alone coach a game if he's out of town. He would rather forfeit. So anyway, Gina has a tendency to be a little competitive too, but she and Tony manage to keep it in check.

So I get to sit on the side-lines with Gina's husband Jason. Jason, I have to add, may be the only person I have ever met who could really challenge me in a smart-ass contest. I still think I would win, but he might come close. For example, when our kids were playing softball last season, whenever his daughter would pitch he would tell her to make sure to hit the first couple of kids with a pitch because then the rest of the batters would be scared.

That's Jason. He does coach his son's football team. He is the kind of dad who videos the game and watches it with his kid afterwards to critique his performance. Too bad you can't see his whole head in this picture because he is bald and we all know how much I like bald guys. Even my kids will point out the hot bald guys to me when we are out. I think it all started when I saw The King and I. Yul Brynner was the hottest thing I ever saw. Other hot bald guys, Bruce Willis. He just oozes sexiness. I also like Ralph Fiennes. He isn't always bald in his movies, but he should be. Stanley Tucci. Rumor has it that he is gay, but if there's one thing I like more than bald guys it's gay guys. We all know that. Adam Lambert, case in point. (I will take any opportunity to gaze upon Adam Lambert.) So imagine the appeal of a BALD gay guy! Yummy.
Back to Jason. In this stupid pussy soccer league where we aren't supposed to win, a lot of the coaches wives make scrunchies for the kids on the team. If you aren't familiar with scrunchies let me tell you about them. You start with a regular ponytail holder. Then you find a bunch of ribbons the same color as your jersey and other decorative ribbons with soccer balls or whatever. You cut the ribbons about 3 inches long and tie them all over the ponytail holder and voilà! A scrunchie. As you can imagine, the idea of team scrunchies goes against everything I think team sports are about. Needless to say, Jason the smart-ass has been all over my case to make team scrunchies since Gina and Tony started coaching 3 teams ago. Every time one of the girls gets a foul in a game he mutters, "Well, if they had those matching scrunchies..." He reminded me how much better our team photo would have looked if the girls had their team scrunchies. Jason loves to remind me that as the coaches wife it is my job to make the scrunchies. I love to remind him that he is a coaches WIFE too so he should make the idiotic scrunchies. He then points out that I am the HEAD coaches wife so scrunchies are clearly my job. It has gotten to the point where whenever we play a team with matching scrunchies I just roll my eyes and wait for Jason to say something about the fact that we don't have any mother-fucking scrunchies.
I swear I am going to make those stupid scrunchies. And I am going to find the sparkliest ribbons I can. I told him once that I was going to make them and I was going to be sure to make one for Gina too and I expected to see her wearing it for every game. His response? "Make her two so she can have pigtails. It'll go perfect with her school-girl outfit." Smart-ass. When I do make them I am going to make one really big one he can wear around his head. And he will, my friend. Yes he will. I would just make him an honorary scrunchie for his rear-view mirror, but I shudder to think where he might wear it one night after a couple of drinks.
For all the crap Jason gives me about scrunchies, you still have to love the guy. After all, he did make me a CD called "White Trash Anthems". My favorite song on that CD is My Wife Left Me For Jesus.
One afternoon I went to a local bar for a glass of wine with a friend while our kids were in dance class. Oh, who am I kidding? That dance class is an hour long...we really planned on having 3 glasses of wine. So, we walked into the bar and sat down. I looked around after slamming my first glass of wine and who was sitting at the bar but Jason! But he wasn't alone. OH NO! He was with a woman, and that woman wasn't Gina. So, I watched him just to see what was going to happen. I didn't really think that Jason was stupid enough to cheat on Gina (because she's a babe with a rockin' body) or that if he did cheat on her he would be in a crowded bar IN TOWN. But, hope springs eternal and I thought I would watch for a few minutes to see if he touched her inappropriately or something. I figured if I caught him even flirting with another woman I could use it to get him off my back about the fucking scrunchies. Plus, he and Gina seem to have such a great marriage I was pretty much looking for the chink in that marriage armour. Maybe they were swingers and he was trolling for a new couple for some swapping. I didn't know, but after i slammed my second glass of wine, I decided to go over and say hello. Well, OF COURSE it was his business partner and OF COURSE he introduced me and there wasn't anything unseemly about it. Actually, after I was introduced to her she reminded me that we had met before at their house. Oh well. So much for my blackmail material.
Seriously, though. Jason may be a smart-ass. Jason may be competitive. Jason may be like a dog with a bone when it comes to the scrunchies. (Which he will receive wrapped around a brick through his car window.) But he is also a really great dad. His kids are unfailingly polite and nice and loyal and gorgeous. (Jason would probably remind me to throw in "gifted" at this point.) He is a very devoted husband. When Gina was turning a particular age, her mother wanted to throw her a surprise party. Jason, on the other hand, knew that she did not want a party so he refused to help. Sure, some might say that was just a convenient excuse to get out of helping, but I CHOSE to see it as loyalty because I like to see the good in everyone.
I do have a favorite Jason story. Get a Kleenex.
When my dad died we had his memorial service over Spring Break. I knew Gina and the kids were not going to be in town and I just assumed that Jason was going to be with them. Gina expressed her regret that she would not be able to be at my father's memorial service and I said I completely understood. Then I concentrated on the service and my mother and all the other things that went with orchestrating the entire thing. Brenna sang at the service and Bronte did a reading and I did the eulogy. It was a beautiful service and afterward my family and I greeted people as they left the sanctuary and went to the other room for a light lunch. All of a sudden Jason came up to me and gave me a hug. I was so surprised to see him because I thought they were all out of town. Well, for whatever reason he had to stay behind and so he came to the service. Not only did was I touched that he made the effort to find out when the service was and show, but I was very moved by the fact that my family was important enough to him to come. He wrote Bronte a beautiful little note during the service and gave it to her afterward and later called my cell phone and left me a message about how impressed he was by the Phipps girls that day and how beautifully the memorial was pulled off and what a tribute it was to my father.
I saved that message until I recently replaced my cell phone. I used to listen to it when I missed my dad or I was feeling down and friendless. His presence and that message meant so much to me. I'll bet he has no idea.
Plus, the man bought me a fabulous t-shirt at the Spinal Tap concert. That's two thumbs up for Jason. First, he knows and appreciates Spinal Tap and second (and more importantly) he bought me something.

Niceness is over-rated.

2009-09-25T20:45:00.005-06:00

My friend Jim has got to be one of the nicest people I know. I am not sure if that is a compliment or not because I have never, ever been described as nice (Seriously, when you think of me is "nice" the first word you would use to describe me? I don't think so. I don't even think it would be the tenth word you would use. I think it would be somewhere around...well, where ever you would place the word "perky" in that list. You get the picture.) and because of that maybe I have a skewed sense of what constitutes nice. However, I do have a lot of really nice friends for some weird reason. I have no idea why. I mean, these are people that, not only do I think they're nice, but other people do too. Therefore they must have some other character flaw that makes them want to befriend me, but that doesn't take away from their inherent nice-ness.

In any case, Jim is really nice. I say this because he is the only person that I know that, even when he is rightfully and HUGELY angry with someone, rather than say something awful and mean to that person, he doesn't. He told me that he had such an opportunity recently and rather than call his former friend a stupid mother-fucking jerk (which is what I would have done) or something like that...he thought of the immortal words of Thumper. Yes, Thumper of Bambi fame. Those words are, "If you can't say somethin' nice, don't say nothin' at all."

Honestly. Now, I know I have told my children the same thing (only grammatically correctly and with the "g"s on the ends of the words---I mean, I'm not Sarah Palin) but I don't really mean it. C'mon! I just say that so they won't say mean things to ME, but I have no problem with them saying mean things to someone who is crappy to them. Sometimes I even do it for them. For example, when Brenna was in 3 year old pre-school she dressed up like Peter Pan for Halloween. Unfortunately, that was not a year the Peter Pan was particularly popular so I had to run around like a moron trying to find her a damn costume. I couldn't find a green leotard or leggings to save my life. I ended up finding her a hat at a drunken Oktoberfest party at a bar. I'm surprised I was coherent enough to think to buy it...but that's another story. ANYWAY, Brenna was dressed up like Peter Pan in a room full of princesses. I was proud of her originality, but one of the other little girls walked up to her and said, "Are you supposed to be Peter Pan? Peter Pan is a BOY. Are you a BOY? You can't be Peter Pan."

Well, Brenna just stood there and I could see that her feelings were hurt and that this costume that she had been so proud of and that I had busted my ass to get together was losing it's shine for her. Let me tell you, I wasn't going to let some bitchy little 3 year old brat take this away from her. So, of course I rationally explained to the child that Peter Pan was notoriously played by a woman on the Broadway stage and that the part was really written for a girl to make Peter Pan more childlike and that it was all about pretend anyway, just like Halloween!

No, of course I didn't REALLY do that. I ripped her a new one. I looked at her and said, "Are you supposed to be a princess? Princesses are supposed to be tall and blond and have royal blood in their veins. Are you royalty? Well, then you can't be a princess!"

True story. I was a complete and utter bitch to a poor 3 year old on Halloween. She had it coming. Thumper's flawless philosophy never even crossed my adult mind because I was pissed off. I'm sure Jim would have patted this child on the head and said something nice about her stupid princess costume and been, well, you know, a grown-up. Good for Jim.

My friend Crystal's husband Glenn is really nice too. He just can't help it. I totally don't get it. He's so nice that it bothers him when people around him aren't nice to each other in his presence. One night Tony and the kids and I were over at their house for dinner. The adults were sitting on the deck drinking wine while the kids were making us dinner. It was the kid's idea! I swear! However, I am going to suggest that the next time they want to do something like that they should learn to mix a martini or something too... In any case, the kids were all inside and we were outside and Tony and I were bickering back and forth about something. I am sure I was annoyed with him because (and I know he will agree with me on this point) I am usually annoyed with him about something. So there were were sniping at each other (but smiling the whole time) and Glenn is getting more and more discombobulated and uncomfortable because we are bickering, albeit playfully. And even though I knew I was teetering on the edge of being a really shitty guest by continuing, I suddenly looked at Tony and said, "You're just an asshole."
Well, that pushed Glenn right over the edge. He said something like, "Okay, okay. Now my rule is that when you say something mean to somebody you have to immediately follow it up by saying two NICE things to that person."
I was still annoyed with Tony, but I decided that, in the interest of being a good guest I would play his silly little reindeer game. So I looked at Tony and said, "You're really good at being an asshole. In fact, you are so good at it, you could be a professional asshole."
Then Tony and Crystal and I busted out laughing while Glenn sat there trying to figure out how his nice little game had gone so horribly, horribly wrong.

Summer's here

2009-06-20T16:01:00.007-06:00

Summer finally came to Palatine, Illinois. So I packed up my sunscreen and my kid and went to the pool. Now, our pool here in Palatine is not just a stupid lap pool with a diving board. Nope, it's called the Family Aquatic Center and it is like a mini water park. It's one of the reasons we moved to Palatine. You see, I grew up in a town called Crystal Lake. (Yes, just like the Friday the 13th movies. Nothing as exciting as some crazed killer in a hockey mask killing horny teenagers having sex in a cabin happened in my hometown. If that had happened, my graduating class would have been cut in half.)Well, we didn't have public pools in Crystal Lake because we had...a LAKE. However, every year when I went to visit my cousins in New Jersey we went to their town's public pool. I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Plus, even at a young age I had all kinds of OCD crap going on. I don't like sand because it never really washes all the way off and I hated getting in the car with sand anywhere on my body or feet. And all the sand gets stuck to your wet towel and then you can't wrap it around yourself or you get even more sand stuck to you. I don't like lakes because there's all kinds of green algae crap floating around. Additionally, when you walk around in a lake you never know what you are going to step on. That just creeps me out. And, the water is really murky so you KNOW all the kids pee in there because nobody can tell if you're peeing or not. So, the idea of a public pool was quite exciting for me.
Therefore, when we were looking at houses and I found out that the Palatine Park District has a plethora of public pools for our summer swimming pleasure I was thrilled. In the summer the pool is my happy place. I love the smell of chlorine and sunscreen.
The best thing about the pool though is the people watching. Today was a banner day for that because it is Saturday and everybody and their brother was at the pool. Here are some of the highlights:
I enjoyed the Middle Eastern man with so much body hair that he looked like a Brillo pad. However, he looked like he had been heavily dusted with powdered sugar, but only from his nipples up. Honestly, the abundance of hair from his nipples up was pure white. Then, right at his neck the hair just ended. Everything from there up was bald. I don't even think he had eyebrows. It was the weirdest thing.
I enjoyed the really skinny mom of two with the worst boob job ever. They looked like two cupcakes stuck on a skeleton. She was really proud of them too because her bathing suit top (she had on a tankini) was cut down to her naval. I couldn't stop looking at them. She probably thought I was a lesbian.
Speaking of lesbians, there was a lesbian couple there. (At least I assume they were lesbians. I suppose they could have been 50 year old spinster sisters with their adopted Chinese kid. I am going with the lesbian assumption though.) They stood out not because they were lesbians, but because they looked exactly alike. They looked like a 50 year old version of Chastity Bono. Okay, that's a picture of Chastity Bono. She goes by the name CHAZ now and is undergoing a sex change operation. (I'm throwing that in there for my non-People reading friends.)
Anyway, the funniest thing about this couple was that they had on the exact same black bathing suit and they had stars tattooed all over their right calves. You couldn't help but do a double take.
AND, speaking of tattoos, I enjoyed the variety of tattoos today. There was a fairly large group of Hispanic men there today and they all had a tattoo of Jesus somewhere on their body. But not just any Jesus, it was the crying Jesus with the crown of thorns on His head. And these tattoos were HUGE. One guy had it on his upper chest and had the name Jesus tattooed around his belly button in 2 inch high letters. I don't know if he was labeling his tattoo (in case someone didn't know who it was) or if that was HIS name.
There was your usual group of trashy 20 year old girls with their tramp stamps. You have to wonder if some day they will wake up in the morning and say, "What was I thinking having the name of that motherfucker tattooed on my lower back surrounded by flowers and doves?"
I also enjoyed some of the hot dads. There was one that had a little boy and this dad was smokin' hot. He had a great tan (I think he was Italian, so he probably acquired that tan today) and a washboard stomach and the whitest teeth I've seen since Adam Lambert.Well, how about that? I managed to find a way to bring this all back to Adam Lambert, who I adore. I'm telling you, he was too good for American Idol. Seriously, that stage was just too small for my boy Adam. If I had a son I would want him to be just like Adam Lambert.
More on Adam Lambert later in the week...let's get back to the pool.
Here is the deal: most women who have had a kid or two do not have terrific bodies. One is bound to have a stretch mark (I don't, but I was extremely moisturized throughout both of my pregnancies) or a little cellulite or a less than tight stomach. I have an okay figure for a mom of my age, but I'm not going to the family Aquatic Center in a string bikini! Seriously, cover that shit up! I can't believe some of these women look at themselves in the strategically placed full length mirror in the locker room on the way out to the pool and think, "I look fantastic. I am going to take off my sarong today and show everyone as much as possible." I was sitting in the shallow end of the pool and this mom walked in front of me. Right when she was directly in my line of vision, she bent over at the waist to say something to her 2 year old. Good Lord! I felt like a gynecologist. No one wants to see that! Bottom line...never bend over at the waist in a bathing suit unless you are under the age of 10.

My Dad

2009-04-13T15:05:00.006-06:00

Well, it's been three weeks since my dad died. Three weeks. Three weeks seems like FOREVER when that's how many weeks there are until Christmas. Three weeks seems like a really short time when that's all the time there is before your 40th birthday. I'm not sure how I feel about three weeks in this case. All I know is that I wish I had three more weeks with my dad.
Seeing as many of you were unable to come to my dad's memorial service, I thought I would share a few photos of him with you

This picture was taken in the time I like to call "B.C." (Before Carolyn) I imagine that they were just on their way to church or something...I wonder who took the picture? Look how much happier everyone looks now that I have been born! Look at our fabulous short haircuts!
Ah yes, the Eighties were an ugly time for hair...and eyeglasses for that matter. I do believe that is a Guess jean jacket though. This is outside my apartment in college. This is how I remember my dad best. Smiling and always giving me a hug that was just this short of painful. I'm pretty sure he bought me some groceries before he left town. Beer too. Here is my dad with Brenna. I can't believe he's repotting that plant on the carpet! He was a notorious neat nick. I never would have gotten away with that when I was a kid. But for his princess granddaughter...anything!!
This was taken in my parent's place in Galena. We were just about to leave for my wedding to Tony. However, my dad was having a very important conversation with Brenna and we were a little late.
This is Dad with Bronte. At this point he was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I wish Bronte had known him then. All her memories of Grampa are of the late stages. He always loved my kids though, even when he didn't know exactly who they were.
I know, it's hard to believe I was in a sorority. Don't worry, they wised up after a year and kicked me out. But they didn't kick me out until my dad was named Dad of the Year because of an essay I wrote about him. He was so surprised! I am glad I got the opportunity to let him know how much I thought of him. Even though he only got that lame Burger King crown and some kind of a statue, I know he was touched.
This is at my wedding to Tony. Dad was starting to show signs of Alzheimer's then, but not a whole lot. He had so much fun at the reception. AND, look at my fabulous shoes!

Planning Dad's memorial service was quite an undertaking. Pastor Morris (my buddy Michael) had a lot of ideas and things he had done before, all of which I nixed. I wanted very specific hymns, I wanted the Bible passages I wanted (Michael suggested talking about Moses and how God kept his promises to him. I said, "Didn't Moses get only to SEE the promised land, but not ACTUALLY GET THERE? Hmmm...") and I had a whole service mapped out. Michael just let me go with it.

The service opened with my friend Nancy singing "Untitled Hymn (Come To Jesus)" and she was fantastic! I thought it would make me cry, but the love Nancy has for my family and her unwavering faith in Jesus made it so joyful. That set the tone. The whole rest of the service was just a joyous remembrance of my dad. Bronte read the 23rd Psalm and remembered to keep eye contact with the crowd. It was great. People stood up and remembered my dad with funny stories. Michael delivered a wonderfully uplifting sermon. Brenna sang "How Great Thou Art" after my eulogy and she made everyone smile and cry a little too.

Speaking of the eulogy...here it is: (Thanks to John Eaton for calling me just when I needed it and giving me the strength to get through it.)

Although I really have no fear of public speaking, I was a little nervous about getting up here today. The past week or so has been so difficult and I just didn’t know where to start with my memories about Dad. I didn’t want to get up here and break down or not make any sense because to eulogize one’s father is such a daunting task. Then I was reminded that this is an HONOR. It is an honor to be able to speak for my father. It is an honor to be able to tell you my memories of this wonderful man. It is an honor to share my father with you.
My father was a hard man to dislike. He had a story for every situation. He enjoyed every new experience, whether it was a musical downtown or ice fishing on Crystal Lake. Yes, he was opinionated. I recall hearing the phrase, “Well, you can do it my way or the wrong way,” more than once. Some might see that as arrogance, but I always saw it as confidence…and occasionally as an opportunity to prove him wrong. Dad constantly challenged me to do my best. I don’t think that he ever thought there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do if I just put my mind to it. He was never satisfied with taking the easy way out. Another of his famous phrases was, “anything worth doing is worth doing right.” As a kid I thought he was just impossible to please at times, but I am grateful every day that Dad had the confidence in me to strive for the best I could do. He always made me feel like I could do anything if I were determined. What greater gift to give a child? Although it would be easy to say that Dad pushed me, I would rather have the memory of his confidence in me than memories of someone who didn’t think I could ever amount to anything.
I remember my dad’s love of puzzles. He and my mother would do the Jumble in the newspaper everyday. They didn’t exactly do it together, but they did it simultaneously to see who could finish first. Also, I don’t believe a Sunday ever went by that he didn’t do the crossword puzzle in the Chicago Tribune. The funny thing is, my dad was allergic to newsprint. So, for the hour or so that he would work on the puzzle he would sneeze. Constantly. Dad liked to do the crossword puzzle alone. He didn’t share or ask for help ever, he liked to do it independently. I can only remember one exception to this; when Brenna was a little baby, she got a cold. Like any new mother, I panicked and didn’t sleep because she wasn’t sleeping and when she was sleeping I was watching her to be sure she didn’t STOP breathing. So, needless to say, I was exhausted. On the third day of Brenna’s cold, I was so tired I went over to my parent’s house and asked if they could just watch Brenna so I could rest for an hour. When I woke up from my nap, my mom was asleep on a blanket on the floor with Brenna asleep beside her and my dad was sitting in a chair with a crossword puzzle watching them both to make sure they didn’t STOP breathing. My dad saw that I was awake and came and sat by me on the couch. He looked at me and looked at my daughter, who he adored, and said, “Want to do my puzzle with me?” Honestly, I was so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep while Brenna was asleep, but he had never asked me (or anyone, to my knowledge) to do a crossword with him. So we sat there whispering about crossword puzzle clues and solving strategies until Brenna woke up.
Dad also loved what I always considered “old” movies, but truthfully were just the movies from his youth. Back in the days before cable television, all of the old movies were on Channel 9, but usually not during prime time. No, the movies my dad loved were on at midnight or 1:00 a.m. Well, that didn’t stop my dad from watching them, or from wanting to share them with me. I recall many a night being awakened at 11:55 p.m. so he and I could watch the Marx Brothers and eat popcorn. He and I would stay up and laugh and laugh. I don’t think my mother ever understood…
The dad of my childhood was someone who taught me how to keep a baseball scorecard and instilled my love of Cubs baseball by taking me to games and patiently explaining every aspect of the game to me. He also encouraged me to play sports, particularly softball. He would practice with me out in the backyard for hours so I wouldn’t be afraid of a sharply hit line drive. (You see, I wanted to play short-stop because my favorite Cub when I was 9 years old was Ivan DeJesus, the short-stop). However, no matter how many pitches he threw me in the backyard, Dad never could get me to hit the ball very well. I figured I could walk more than 50% of the time if I just didn’t swing at all, so I took my chances on a walk rather than try to hit. I was always afraid I’d hit a shallow pop fly and be humiliated. So, I just didn’t swing. That made Dad crazy, so he decided to become an umpire in my softball league. He was a very fair umpire too, except when it came to me. No matter where the pitches were when I was batting my dad called them strikes. He figured I would get angry enough at him for calling everything a strike that I was bound to take a swing eventually. I don’t recall how many games went by before I got sick of striking out and started hitting the ball.
Although it may not seem like it, my Dad was a very sensitive and gentle man. When I was in 4th grade, my parents bought me a dog; ToTo. I loved that dog. Toto was with me when I learned to drive, she was around for my first date and she saw me off to college and slept in my bed every time I came home. But, we all know that dogs don’t live forever. When my parents had to make the decision to put that dog to sleep, I was firmly entrenched in college life. I knew she was old and sick. The day my folks put her to sleep, they got in their car and drove out to University of Iowa so that they could tell me in person. They stayed all weekend and watched me cry and made sure I was okay before they left. This was not unexpected news, but my Dad knew that it would be devastating if I was alone. The presence of my Dad, a fierce dog lover, that weekend is something I will never forget.
Dad’s sarcasm is something that many of my friends recall about him. (Luckily I did not inherit that trait...) I know that many of my friends were unsure about how he felt about them upon meeting him because he had a sharp wit that made you wonder how he really felt. I know that he respected those who could give it right back to him.
Dad’s love for my mother and his joy at being able to spend his days with her made me believe that true love is not just a myth. I recall coming home to find them dancing in the family room with Frank Sinatra crooning from the stereo. I remember watching them walk down the streets of Galena hand in hand for many years. Neither of them ever left the house without a kiss and an “I love you.” The love they had for each other inspires me to this very day to be a better person and to show those that I love how I feel every day.
As Alzheimer’s robbed my father of his memory it also allowed me the gift of seeing him at his core. Although Dad didn’t know who I was near the end he always knew that I was someone who loved him. He enjoyed his grandchildren every time he saw them. He rejoiced in their attention and love. Alzheimer’s took my dad’s memory, but it didn’t touch his love.
Even though it is easy to wonder at God’s plan at a time like this, I am comforted by the words of Proverbs chapter 3.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him; and He will make your paths straight.” I know that my Dad has gotten the Ultimate promotion and that he is sitting at the right hand side of God.
I will miss my father every day. If I could see him one more time I would thank him for making me the person that I am, for making me the parent that I am. I am proud to be his daughter and I KNOW that he was proud to call me his daughter.

Hello Gorgeous!!

2009-02-17T19:39:00.014-06:00

Well, Jim has come and gone and my life will never be the same. Jim has been a loyal reader of this blog practically since it's inception. For upwards of two years we have commented on each others blogs and emailed back and forth. However, we had never heard the other's voice or seen each other in person. He lives in Los Angeles and I live here in Palatine, Illinois. I sorta figured we would never meet...but Jim loves to travel and Chicago is a pretty desirable destination so out he came! Plus, Valentine's Day weekend was the Catholic Drunken Fest and why in the world would you want to spend Valentine's Day with your loved one when you can spend it with a couple thousand drunken Catholics?
In any case, I was a little nervous about meeting Jim for the first time because, well...what if I hated him? (Notice how it never occurred to me that he might not like me.) That silly thought was laid to rest when I saw him coming down to baggage claim resplendent in his tiara. My first thought was, "Shit, I should have worn my tiara too," and my second thought was, "Good Lord. He's way bigger in person than on his blog."

Let me tell you, Jim is one great big hunk of MAN. He is tall and tan and fabulously handsome. He gave me a hug and then promised not to do it again. I was greatly relieved. Once he got his suitcases (yes, there were two suitcases for a four day trip) I tried to remember where I parked. I was also hoping that we would find enough to talk about on the car ride into the city. Well, that was needless worry, to be sure! Not only did Jim have LOTS to talk about, he even brought his own soundtrack! We no sooner got out of the parking garage and he popped a CD in my CD player. I tell you, if you've never heard Dame Shirley Bassey sing Pink's Get This Party Started, then you haven't really heard that song.
In any case, I have to respect someone who actually brings their own background music with them because, let's face it, the moment when you meet a total stranger who you've only exchanged emails with and could very likely be a crazy serial killer, you might as well be listening to music you like.
After we got to his hotel and went up to his room (Yes, I went to his room. Total stranger. Just met him an hour ago. Whatever.) he proceeded to unpack. This is when I was rendered speechless. Out of his suitcase he pulled already assembled and hung up outfits. He had a "preppy" look and a "dressier with tuxedo pants" look and various shoe choices to go with each. Seriously, I thought he was going to pull a coat rack (a'la Mary Poppins) out of there. When I go on vacation I just make sure I have enough of each required clothing item (i.e. underwear, shirts, pants, etc.) to last for however many days I will be gone. If I am really lucky, things might match..but at least I have enough to make it through. Jim, on the other hand, was pondering, "Whatever shall I wear to the Catholic Drunken Fest?" like he was standing in his own closet with a plethora of choices.
Once he had unpacked (and complained about the lack of drawers--I didn't realize people actually used the drawers in hotel rooms!) we went to dinner. After dinner we went back to his hotel room and laid on his bed while he showed me all the fun things you can find on Craig's List. Silly me, I thought it was a job finding site! Apparently you can find all KINDS of jobs on Craig's List...like blow jobs. So we giggled and gossiped like a couple of sorority girls, then we had a pillow fight and then we did each other's hair!!
Just kidding. We did turn off the lights and look in other people's rooms from his window. Eventually I realized that I had to work in the morning so I left and got home at some silly hour.

The next night was the big Catholic fund raiser!! Jim came out on the train. (You really need to read his take on the night . I will hit on some of the things he missed.)
After I found Jim we went to a restaurant where my friend Laura is the hostess. We sat at the bar and waited for our designated driver, Nancy, to arrive. Nancy was at a wake and we bemoaned the fact that she couldn't get us to the Catholic Drunken Fest earlier, but we made the best of it and ordered drinks. Jim charmed the bartender and Laura until Nancy arrived.
Notice how tan Laura and Jim are. Jim is from California, so the tan was totally expected. Laura has a tanning bed in her house. Nancy and I adhere to the "it's winter in Chicago so of course we're pale" school of thought.
Once Nancy arrived and had her "I was at a wake and I'm going to have one drink even though I am the designated driver" drink we left. We went back to my house where Jim marveled at the Barbie Dream House in my living room and cringed at my IKEA furniture and my children charmed him with all their marvelous-ness (they were very anxious to meet my imaginary blog friend) we left for the fest. I have to add that we brought Jim's CD with us for our listening pleasure. Also, Jim was so excited about the snow--he was like a 3rd grader wishing for a snow day. I think it was just because he wanted to try on my enormous fur coat. This picture was taken at the very end of the night when they practically kicked us out. Yes, I believe that we were absolutely the LAST people to vacate the premises. The Catholic guard actually escorted us to the coat check where they waited for us with our coats in hand. The coat check folks were very anxious to see who was stupid enough to check a fur at a high school fund raiser. The kids working the coat check probably laid my coat on the floor and made out on it. (I would say they had sex on it, but we all know that Catholics believe in abstaining from sex until marriage...just like Sarah Palin's daughter....)Both Nancy and Jim were thrilled when they saw the sign advertising MEN. Imagine their disappointment when they followed the arrow and only found a bathroom. I think they were hoping their drink tickets were good for more than just cocktails.Okay. Keep in mind when you are gazing on the photo of Nancy and me in front of the Love Muffin that we are actually in a private Catholic High School. I believe the students themselves do the bulk of the decorating. Hmmm...wonder how that abstinence program is working at this school? You can tell by the look on my face that I know what a Love Muffin is.You know I must have had a few drinks at this point because I am voluntarily hugging Jim. (Jim claims I am a closet hugger. He actually counted how many times we hugged during his visit. Again...we were drinking. I'm sure we've all uttered, "I love you man!" while tipsy.) My favorite thing about this photo is how great our teeth look. Jim told me I look like a "fucking Osmond"! So, I think perhaps our designated driver had a couple of cocktails... Just kidding! Nancy only had one and she nursed it for hours. The thing you gotta love about Nancy is that she doesn't even have to be drunk to pretend like she's getting eaten by a giant pickle. This is just some random guy who wouldn't leave until I took his picture. The thing is, I think I actually argued with him about it a little bit before I just took the shot. I mean, I have a digital camera, right? I could have just deleted it...but NO! I wanted him to move along. Nancy did too, but (as you can see from the photo) she didn't want him to knock over her drink. After all, she was only going to have ONE!
Jesus Christ! We found Him at the Catholic Drunk Fest! Nancy was so excited she did the splits and didn't even spill her (ONE) drink! This was the only indication that we were in a Catholic institution that we found all night. Oh no! I take that back. At one point Jim was getting a drink and asked the bartender where all the gay priests were and the bartender introduced herself. I think her name was Sister Mary Nancy... Nothing says "Catholic Fund Raiser" like a bartending nun! At the end of the night we still had quite a few drink tickets. I bought a ton of them and then Jim bought more because he mistakenly thought we were out. Plus, I think we got a few free drinks along the way. I know the bartender in the "wine room" kept refilling my wine glass and refusing my tickets. I think she was flirting with me. Whatever. I flirted back as long as the wine was flowing. You wouldn't know it from these photos, (I am famous for bringing my camera with me everywhere and then forgetting to take a single picture) but my friend Crystal was there too. However, she had to duck out early because she had to go to her daughter's music competition at 7:00 a.m. or some un-Godly hour. She should have just stayed with us! We would've kept her awake until then!

All in all, it was a fun night. I got home at 4:30 a.m. I'm still recovering.

Jim was delightful! If he doesn't come out for this event next year I simply won't go! I tell you though, we will have to charter a bus next year. I have a bunch of friends who were pissed they didn't get to meet Jim and come out with us. Selfishly I didn't invite a bunch of people because I wanted Jim all to myself. Next year maybe I'll share the wealth.

Some of my favorite Jim moments from his visit...
When I caught him petting my coat behind my back.
When he was relaying a conversation he had with someone and he said, "And I was all, 'What?' and he was all, 'Oh no, I don't think so,' and I was all, 'Whatever' ". I thought only Hannah Montana talked like that. Somehow, it works for Jim.
When he was all frustrated because he couldn't get the Hershey's kiss out of the bottom of his plastic martini glass.
When he told me after seeing my fox coat that, "You know I'm going to be trying that on at some point tonight."
When he ordered a deep dish pizza with 4 different kinds of cheese and then added BACON.

Come back soon, Jim! Love you!!!

I'm back and I've been to church

2009-02-05T15:09:00.014-06:00

In general, I am not a big fan of mega-churches. I don't really have a very good reason, except that I really like the feeling of a small church community. Plus, I just think that if you have to get to church an hour before the service so that you can park and get a good seat well....that's just like going to a sporting event, not worship. I always think that when I walk in the door someone is going to hand me a glass of Grape Kool-Aid and slap a Kabbalah bracelet on my wrist. Whenever I think of mega-churches I think of Scientology. Scientology makes me think of Tom Cruise. Tom Cruise practicing Scientology makes me think of arrogant, couch jumping assholery. (That's a new word I just made up. It's a combination of tom-foolery and asshole. I think it's fabulous.) Tom Cruise makes my skin crawl. Plus, I hate his teeth. And his nose. He's just smarmy. Just look at what he did to Katie Holmes! Here is Katie Holmes pre-Tom Cruise:

She's so cute and happy!
Here is Katie Holmes post Tom Crazy-ass Cruise:
She looks sad and afraid.
Their kid doesn't look much happier: I don't know...but Nicole Kidman sure looks better post-Tom.

Anyway, back to the mega church. I went with Brenna to the local mega-church in the Chicago area, which is Willow Creek. According to one of their press-releases, the weekend church services are attended by an average of 24,000 people. It's a huge "campus". I guess that is one of the reasons why I think I don't like mega-churches...if they are serving 24,000 people in one weekend, how can it be a community of God? Isn't it really like a show? When your pastor is a virtual celebrity then how do you connect with him?

In any case, Brenna and I went because Kate from the TV show John and Kate Plus 8 was going to be there as part of their Saturday night "church" service. We got to the church about 45 minutes before the service and we were lovingly guided to a parking spot by one of the many orange-suited parking "worship volunteers". The nice thing about trying to park at a very crowded church is that everyone is so nice. No honking or middle finger salutes here! Nope, everyone just follows the leader and goes where they are supposed to. This is an aerial view of Willow Creek Church. It's huge. See those ponds in the back? They literally do mass baptisms in those ponds. I can't imagine it's incredibly meaningful, but who am I to judge? Then we went in the church and tried to decide which level of the sanctuary we wanted to enter. You see, there are three levels and there are escalators to each level. But not just one escalator...no! There are 4 escalators. True. All around me I saw people on their cell phones trying to locate their friends so they could sit together. The crowd was unbelievable. The plan was that Brenna and I were supposed to meet our friends by the escalators on the first floor. However, after waiting for 10 minutes and trying to call my friend (The cell phone reception in Willow Creek sucks. I tried praying that I would see my friends, but that didn't work. I guess the 8,000 other people in the lobby made that a little difficult.) I decided to take the escalator up and see if I could see her from above. Once I got up there I realized there were other sets of escalators from the other side. I finally found one of my friends loitering by the coffee shop on the first floor. (Seriously.)

Once we finally got in the sanctuary (And I use that term loosely because it looks more like a huge auditorium. There isn't a cross or an eternal flame or any other indication that this is a church.) I looked around and thought, "This is so not working for me." This is the actual sanctuary. I would love to see The Foo Fighters here. The seats are all good and the sound is incredible. It would totally KICK ASS! Oops! Sorry. Blasphemous. Back to the service...Then, the band came out and told everyone to stand. Now, usually I hate that praise band crap where everyone raises their hands and sings and looks all enraptured. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I can't help but feel that they're faking it. I mean, who really feels full of the love of Jesus when they do that? If everyone experiences Christ in their own way, then how come everyone strikes the same pose when they hear praise music? Smacks of fakery to me but, again...who am I to judge? (Not that it keeps me from judging.) However, this band was really, really good. AND they projected all the words on the two big screens for those of us in the nose-bleed seats. I'm telling you, it was like a concert. The band played songs I knew so I sang and my very talented friend sang harmony next to me. It was awesome. I will go back for the music alone. Check out the big screens. Once the band was done they brought out Kate from that show. I've never actually SEEN the show, but I knew enough about it to be mildly interested. However, I was less than impressed with her. Sure, she had 6 babies at one time. Whatever. Yep, it's tough. I'm sure. But, when she was witnessing (so to speak) about some of the "miracles" that she encountered throughout the whole thing I just wasn't "feelin' it". Either she had gotten 15 Botox injections backstage which rendered her face almost immobile or she is just emotionless.
Luckily, the service ended with the band again, so I left happy.
Until we tried to find a bathroom. I'm telling you, the people at Willow Creek must never have to pee. Brenna and I had to go down to the lobby, through some big room full of tables with signs to indicate which groups were meeting where and through a cafeteria the size of the food court at the mall. Actually, it was much nicer than the food court at the mall.

In other news, I wonder if Sarah Palin would have brought her own stripper pole to Washington D.C. had she gotten elected, or if our tax dollars would have paid for it.

There goes Sarah Palin, classy as ever, to some shindig recently in Washington D.C. Perhaps she's lobbying for a position on the National "Cougar" Board. The guy behind her must be wondering how many more people are going to yell, "Hey baby! We'll be back for you later!" out of their car windows. I tell you, now that Palin is not making a laughing stock of the Republican party, she is still an endless source of amusement to me.

Just in case you thought the hooker boots were a one-time fashion risk...see her above on the campaign trail holding her baby to appeal to all the hockey moms and wearing the Pretty Woman boots to appeal to all the men. Look at the woman in the brown sweater. She's looking right at the boots and thinking, "What the...I don't want this whore representing my country! I'm voting Obama!" The boots and baby look alienated many a woman voter, I betcha! Patent leather boots belong on Barbies, 7 year olds and hookers.

Also, I thought I would just mention that my mother is back home and doing pretty darn well for a bald 78 almost 79 year old. I took her to her second chemo this past Monday and she is really proving to be much stronger than I thought she would be. Yippee Mom!! I miss having her stay in my house and I worry about her constantly, but she is stronger than cancer and she is going to make it through 4 more months of chemo just fine! (That's bravado, but just humor me.) However, she keeps letting the "music therapist" some in while she is having chemo and that freaks me out...but that is a story for another time...

Last but not least...JIM'S COMING!!! I know he's going to be fabulous in person. I am looking forward to many photo ops while he is here.

Oh! And I'm going to see Morrissey on April 4th. Whatever shall I wear???

Ever so Sorry

2008-12-17T10:12:00.002-06:00

Sorry I haven't been around. My mom is having some health issues resulting in major surgery tomorrow. I will be back. I have to tell you about my fabulous trip to Florida!

Are we outside again?

2008-10-25T19:45:00.004-06:00

How cute is Bronte's official soccer picture???

Bronte played in a soccer tournament today. It was a lovely day for a soccer tourney...50 degrees, gray, drizzly. The kids were fine but I was miserable. I hate being cold. I was in my chair, wrapped up in my blanket, thanking God that only one of my children is athletic. Brenna is like me, she only likes to do outdoor things in ideal weather.

I hope that someday Brenna finds someone who is independently wealthy to take care of her as she is not equipped what-so-ever to deal with adversity. Good thing she is smart, pretty and talented. She also has this sweet, unassuming way about her that people are just attracted to. No doubt she will do well in her dating career.

So, back to the soccer tournament. Bronte plays in something called the soccer "Academy". It's for kids who are too young to play on the hard-core travel teams but still are hard-core and don't want to just be on a soccer team for the cool shirt and the end of the year pizza party. Bronte LOVES soccer. She particularly loves playing defense because it's a good excuse to throw an elbow or two or to trip a kid under the guise of trying to get the ball. The kid is aggressive. Push her and she will push right back, no matter how big the opponent.

Brenna and Bronte couldn't be more different.

Brenna takes ballet. Bronte takes hip-hop.
Brenna's favorite movie is Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Bronte's favorite movie is Iron Man.
Brenna is afraid of all bugs, even butterflies. Bronte likes to carry Cicadas around and would like to keep one in her room.
Brenna is very polite and soft-spoken. Bronte's two favorite phrases are, "That sucks!" and "Holy Crap!"

I love my kids. I love that they are so different. When I was pregnant with Bronte I prayed to have a boy because I didn't think I could ever love another daughter as much as I love Brenna. Well, God had different plans. He gave me another daughter but made her so dissimilar to her sister that I love her with the same intensity for completely different reasons. It's funny how I can see myself in both of my girls even though they aren't that much alike. Bronte loves to write, for Brenna it is a chore. Brenna loves to sing and is good at it, Bronte....not so much. Bronte likes to know what everyone is talking about but Brenna only cares if it directly pertains to her. Brenna loves to read and can get lost in a book for hours but Bronte has to be TOLD to read.
Of all the things that I have accomplished in my life, my girls are the thing I am most proud of. I always used to think that I was too selfish to be a parent. When I was in college I couldn't fathom spending my money on anything but shoes for ME, ME, ME!!! Now I work so that my kids can play travel soccer and take 5 dance classes a week and have fabulous birthday parties. I realized the other day that I spend more on piano lessons for my kids than I did on my last pair of jeans. Not only that, I haven't had a new pair of jeans in two years or more.
Oh well, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm bringing sexy back

2008-10-20T17:14:00.005-06:00

I just want everyone to know that THIS is what I look like when I am just lounging around the house. I wear my robe, my fabulous Betsey Johnson shoes (those bitches are HOT) and my tiara. How about those shoes? They are suede and they are fabulous! I never would have spent money on something so incredibly frivolous, but I got them from my fairy Godfather...I don't know how he knew I needed them, but he did.

Last week was (as usual) an extremely busy one. I had to go to my stupid ass job and come home and make dinner and get kids to their various activities. I haven't had a minute to do anything I want to do; read the paper, go to the gym, eat a meal while sitting at the table...you know. Friday was the one day I was looking forward to because my husband and I had tickets to go see k.d. lang and I LOVE her. However, my Friday schedule looked like this:

6:30 a.m. Get up and get ready for work. Kiss my kids goodbye before school.

8:00 a.m. Get my can of soup and go to work.

1:00 p.m. Leave work and go home to make dinner and put it in the Crock Pot so it would be ready for my kids and my parents who were coming in to baby sit so I could go to the concert.

2:00 Pick up Brenna and her friend from school and take Brenna to piano lessons, take her friend home, go to pick up Bronte from school, get her to piano lessons and write a check to the piano teacher for lessons.

4:00 p.m. Get home and get dressed for the concert.

4:30 p.m. Leave home and get to my mother-in-law's friend's house for the limo to take us into Chicago for the concert.

However, when I was leaving the house to go get Brenna and her friend I saw that I had a package waiting outside my front door. It was addressed to me from my friend Jim in California. I grabbed it and got in the car to go to the Jr. High to get Brenna. When I got to the school I opened the package and inside were THE SHOES. More importantly, there was a note from my friend Jim. He told me that the shoes were beautiful and that he had also enclosed some other fun things, including the tiara. You see, on his blog he has a picture of himself in a tiara:
When I saw this photo on his blog I told him that if I had a tiara I would wear it everywhere, even to the grocery store. SOOOOO, in my package there were THE SHOES and my very own tiara. He told me that he expected to see some very amusing photos of me wearing it very soon.

So here I am getting out of the limo wearing my tiara. Nothing says "of course I took a limo to a k.d. lang concert" like a tiara. Between that and my vintage mohair coat I felt like a princess. (I am not the queen though. Jim is. Look at how he wears his tiara at a jaunty angle. Only a queen can get away with that!)
In any case, I wore that tiara all weekend. I love it. I will share more pics of the tiara later...but if you ever get the chance, get a really heavy tiara and wear it as much as you can. It makes everything better.
Now, here is the thing about Jim. I have never met him. All he knows for sure about me is that I wear size 8 shoes. He reads my blog and I read his. We swap emails and we know stuff about each other...but he has never even heard my voice! But that package on Friday from my fairy Godfather made my day, my week, my year! Because I struggle (as most women do) with my body image, he once told me that I should watch Carson Kressly's show "How To Look Good Naked". Well, let me tell you, Carson has NOTHING on Jim. That box with the shoes and the tiara made me feel like more than just someones mom, or a financial aid specialist, or an ordinary suburban dweller. That box made me feel like a princess.
If I didn't express it before...Thank you, Jim. You are a man among men. I can't wait to show you how fabulous those shoes look on me. IN PERSON!!
Incidentally, the funny thing about the picture at the top where I am wearing my robe and tiara and SHOES...Brenna took it. Tony was watching the Bears vs. Vikings game.

Pretty Vacant

2008-10-01T12:34:00.005-06:00

Things that I hate about Sarah Palin:

1. When she was being interviewed by Charles Gibson she kept calling him "Charlie" in her nasal-y annoying accent. Hello! He doesn't go by the name Charlie when he is doing a serious interview. Did she blow him backstage or something which made her feel as though she had the right to use his informal name? I think it pissed him off too because he kept asking her harder and harder questions and asking her to clarify what the fuck she was talking about. At one point he asked her a question twice because he said when she answered it the first time he got "lost in a blizzard of words". She's such an idiot...if she wants the press to be nice to her I see a LOT of gratuitous blow jobs in her future.

2. I hate her glasses. If she were a real hands-on mom to a 5 month old, she would NEVER be able to wear those glasses because her kid would rip them off and destroy them in 2 seconds. Also, as my friend Vicky pointed out, there is no discernible prescription in those glasses. So, she wears them to look smarter...? Too bad they can't actually MAKE her smarter. She's an idiot.

3. What's with that hair bubble on the top of her head? It looks like a tumor. Is she trying to look taller? If she were smarter then she could say that she just has a huge head full of brains, but she's not smart. She's an idiot.

4. Sarah? Ummm...being able to see Russia from your back porch does not make you an expert on foreign policy. Going to the UN for a day of cramming does not make you ready for the Katie Couric interview. You told Charles "Charlie" Gibson that you were a Washington outsider, right? Let me tell you why....You're an IDIOT!

5. In the Katie Couric interview Sarah Palin said about a dozen times that her answer to our economic crisis was to "shore up" the economy. What the fuck does that mean? Well, when Katie tried to get her to expound on that, Palin said that we are in "crisis mode here". Okay. Got it. So what's the answer? Apparently we just need to "shore up". Her PR guy really drove that point home. She also insinuated that people are losing their houses because they were "irresponsible". Really? Ummm....she's an idiot.

I can't wait to see the vice presidential debate. Maybe I will take a drink every time she says "shore up" or "crisis mode". Nah, I have to work on Friday and I really don't want to have a hangover.
In the end here are a few more things I think...
Charlie Gibson is smarter than Sarah Palin.
Katie Couric is smarter than Sarah Palin.
Tina Fey is smarter than Sarah Palin. (So is Amy Poehler)

I can't believe we (as Americans) are even tempted to vote for a ticket with this woman on it. I have been accused of being anti-woman because I don't back her. Well, I am pro-woman. That is why I am NOT voting for Palin who thinks abortion should be illegal even in the case of rape or incest. I am pro-woman because I won't vote for a woman (who, according to some people, represent women all over America) who is going to be more of a laughing stock as a VP than Dan Quayle was. I am pro-woman because I don't back a woman who thinks God sanctions the war in Iraq.
Also, what's up with her kid's names? Track? Trig? C'mon.

Some non-news

2008-09-26T14:28:00.004-06:00

Wow. Clay Aiken is gay? What a shock. I can't believe that is on the cover of People magazine. I could care less. I would rather have some really shocking news...for example: If People magazine broke the news that Sarah Palin is gay I would be surprised. What's next? Are they going to get Ricky Martin to pose on the cover with his new baby and proclaim that he is gay? (I'm sure he is.)

Wait! Is that a photo of Clay Aiken or Lindsey Lohan?

In any case, Clay Aiken just became a father. He artificially inseminated a 50 year old woman who is his BFF. (Well, I don't think he PERSONALLY artificially inseminated her.) So, not only does People magazine get to bore us with the details of his "coming out of the closet", but we get to read about how he LOVES changing diapers and how fatherhood changed his life, etc. just like every other celebrity who becomes a parent. Whatever.

Cows, cars and corn dogs!

2008-09-10T10:09:00.018-06:00

There's nothing like a good old county fair on Labor Day. We go to the same one every single year: The Walworth County Fair in Wisconsin. It is a family tradition. This year we invited another family to join us and, honest to God, I don't think they had ever been to a county fair before. I say this because when I discovered that I had forgotten my stupid digital camera (which, it turns out, I didn't. It is just so frickin' small I couldn't find it in my backpack.) they offered to take all the pictures we would ever need. Well, they took 478 pictures. It took me 2 hours just to look at them on Shutterfly. Luckily for you, I picked out the best ones and (after obtaining permission from my friends to post photos of them on my blog) here they are:

This is the whole group, except my friend's husband. Obviously, he was taking the picture. I would like to point out to Jim that my husband is not wearing anything tie-dyed but that the tie-dye culture is represented as Crystal and her daughter Emily are both wearing it. So, just in case you don't know who everyone is, from left to right: me, Brenna, Bronte, Sarah (my friend's older daughter), Crystal (my friend), Emily (Crystal's younger daughter) and in the back is my dear Tony. I don't know what the hell he is doing with his hands but since there was no beer to be had at the fair at least we know he wasn't being drunk and stupid.

Now, here is a sign you don't see on every dumpster...
Bronte wanted to touch every single animal she saw. Brenna didn't want to touch ANY animal she saw. I think Brenna walked around with her mini hand sanitizer bottle in her hands. We kept trying to get her to touch something just so we could get a photo of her touching anything besides the Purell. I'm not sure if she ever did touch an animal and I am NOT going to go back and look at all 478 of the fucking pictures to be sure.
Looky! Even I touched a sheep. All I can think of when I look at this photo is, "Wow. I really need a new bra."
Brenna felt completely vindicated when she saw this sign. Ironically, it was posted in the bunny exhibition, which are probably the only animal she would have considered touching. Bronte touched all the bunnies anyway. She didn't give a shit what the sign said.
Ah...the farm vehicle display. Here are Emily (the driver) and Sarah (the poser) checking out the...well, I don't know what they are called...the big red thingy with the scooper. Aren't they cute?
Here is how my kids posed for their photo op. It's just no fun unless someone pretends to be road-kill. Aren't they precious?
Yippeee! We found the John Deere equipment!
Here is the only picture of Glenn, Crystal's husband. He is the most conspicuous consumer I ever met. He must be a joy to shop with...the most fabulous impulse buyer ever. No matter what the display was, by the time we walked up to it he was convinced he needed to buy one. At the boat display he talked about how much he wanted a boat. ATVs? Yep, he wanted one of those. Hot tubs? Gotta have one of those! Tractor? What do you suppose the gas mileage is on this baby? Look at him checking out the cab of this thing. He's seriously considering it.
Seriously, if the camera was out, our kids were posing. I have never seen 4 girls more thrilled to have their picture taken. I imagine that only Jim has more fun posing than Brenna, Bronte, Sarah and Emily.
Don't they look like the Go-Go's in the Vacation video? (You know the one where they are all water-skiing and singing "Vacation, all I ever wanted. Vacation, got to get away!" Am I dating myself? Who remembers that video?)
Here I am doing my Lindsey Lohan impression and kissing my girlfriend. I was having a great hair day. That almost makes up for the crappy bra I wore.
Yummy! Deep fried fair food! I had an egg roll. (Actually, by the end of the day I had 3 egg rolls. They were only a dollar.) Look at the happy fair lady in the booth behind me. Doesn't she just look happy to see me eat? She's probably drunk. I would be if I had to sell food at a fair.
What's the fair without a corn dog?
Or a foot-long corn dog?
This is my favorite part of the fair; The Demolition Derby. It fulfills all my fantasies about ramming my car into every asshole on the road. Glenn was incredibly impressed by the demo derby and took about 100 pictures of it. I told you, they've never been to a fair before.
Yes, we hit the midway. The kids went on every ride except for the giant drop. Bronte was the only one who wanted to go on it and she wasn't tall enough, which totally pissed her off.
Look at how mad Bronte looks. That's because she isn't winning the race. However, Brenna is a notorious cheater so I am sure she pushed off a little before Bronte and Sarah did.

No, Tony isn't pointing at my horrible bra. He is pointing at my Obama button.
This is one of my favorite pictures of Tony. EVER. He is wearing Sarah's sunglasses and just looks so metrosexual. I don't know what prompted this pose. Maybe he was inspired by all the poses the girls had struck during the day.
Sarah and Bronte were the only brave ones who went on this ride. They are pretending to be scared here, but during the course of the ride I think they were actually scared.
Check out the portrait painted on the backdrop for this ride. What the hell...?
Here is a spinny ride that Emily (wisely) refused to go on. Isn't it cute how her shirt matches the ride? One of the carnies told me how they break down and transport all the rides. Let me tell you, it didn't make me feel very good that the drunk carnies can break down one of these spinny things in about an hour.
Bronte started to get a little pissy because she wanted to go on the Giant Drop but wasn't tall enough, so Glenn decided that the girls just needed to play a carnival game and then everything would be better. Either that or he just wanted to throw away $12. So, he picked the "shoot the target with the water gun and make the spinning pedestal with Scooby Doo on it rise to the top first" game. It was a sure thing because our kids were the only ones playing. The funny part was, the barker who was running the game was the only overtly gay carnie I have ever seen. It was like Carson Kressley was running it.
Happily, Bronte won the $12 Scooby Doo. I have to say, in Glenn's defense, it was money well spent. Bronte loves the pink Scooby and sleeps with it every night.
Look, city girls! Corn!
Bronte put a handful of corn down Emily's shirt. I love the reactions!
Ahh!! The big blow up cow. Only in Wisconsin! I think their state motto is "Come and smell our dairy-air!" (Say it out loud. It's funny.)
One of the highlights of the fair are the pig races. Crystal laughed her ass off. Pigs run really fast.
Did I tell you these kids are posers?
Pigs are cute. Or as Bronte wrote in her first grade journal when the teacher told the kids to write about cute little piggies because they had just watched the movie Charlotte's Web, "I love pigs. Pigs are yummy. Bacon comes from pigs. Yummm..." No sentimentality there.
This is where we went right after the pig races. I think we ate last year's athletes.

This was the most vomit inducing ride at the fair. Emily did not go on it. I don't blame her. Bronte and Sarah could not wait to get on it. Brenna needed convincing.
After the kids were strapped in, the floor drops out and the ride spins and swings back and forth. I wanted to barf just looking at it. I think Bronte and Sarah went on it 5 times.

Scary!

Emily (obviously) wasn't really keen about going on this ride either.
But they all ended up loving it.

It was a great day. We ate a bunch of delicious carnival food. We saw the demolition derby. No body puked. All in all, a tremendous success!!

Unspectacular Facts

2008-08-27T12:49:00.004-06:00

Okay, so about a month ago I got "tagged" by my friend The HMC and, although I have been successfully avoiding the ramifications of being tagged for upwards of a month now, I figure it is time to respond to the "tagging".
I don't really know what being tagged is, but apparently I have to do exactly what The HMC did on her blog, only I answer the question asked in my own words. Okay then, here goes...

1. Link the person that tagged you. (I have absolutely no idea what that means. Also, if I did know what it means I would probably have to have Tony do it for me because I barely know what I'm doing as it is.)
2. Mention the rules on your blog. (Here you go. These are the rules. By the way, these are the lamest rules I have ever read. I hate rules. Especially for recreational things. Rules are for not-fun things. Like flying or cooking. Blogging is supposed to be fun and I refuse to be hemmed in by RULES. Seriously. Can you imagine if you had to read a bunch of rules every time you did something fun? Take sex, for example. Granted, I do have some "rules" when it comes to sex, but I don't outline them to Tony before we do the deed. I just say, "I don't think so," whenever he gets dangerously close to breaking one. There are just certain things I don't do... OK, back to the stupid rules.)
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours. (I am just going to comment on the stupidity of the previous rule. How can a "quirk" be unspectacular? Don't the words spectacular and quirk just go hand in hand? Quirks are, by nature, funny little things that a person does. If they weren't funny or interesting they wouldn't be "quirks" they would just be "habits", right? So I am warning you now, I did list 6unspectacular things below, but they aren't quirks. All my quirks are spectacular.)
4. Tag 6 following blogger's by linking them. (That doesn't even make any sense.)
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged. (The only person I would have tagged would have been Jim and Tony already did that because he's passive aggressive.)

Prepare yourself for my unspectacular-ness.

1. I think sleeping naked is weird. It was almost a deal-breaker for Tony because when he asked me to marry him I paused because I didn't think I could spend the rest of my life sleeping with a naked man. Think of some of the positions in which you sleep.

Now imagine how attractive you would look in one of those positions totally naked. Gross. Not sexy. Particularly The Foetus (the last one pictured above). Inevitably, Tony will be asleep in this position completely covered by the blanket...except his ass. Yummy.
I repeat: Sleeping naked is weird.
2. I always think I left the oven on or the straightening iron plugged in or the back door unlocked when I leave the house. I have been known to turn the car around 3 or 4 times to check on some imagined fire hazard or safety violation of some sort.
3. I quit biting my fingernails, except for the thumb nail on my right hand. I bite it every night before I go to bed and I chew on my cuticles too. I just couldn't go cold turkey.
4. I rarely buy lottery tickets, but when I do buy them and I don't win, I am always really, really surprised. I honestly believe that I am going to win the lottery. I also can't believe that Oprah hasn't come to my house and offered me money to fix my kitchen. What the hell? I live in the Chicago area and I am deserving. What is taking her so long? She gives shit away all the time. Where's MY free shit? Granted, I have never written her a letter, been to her show, visited her website or appealed to her or her "people" in any way shape or form in my entire life. I don't even watch her stupid show. I don't even like her. But, she should still redo my kitchen.
5. I am really struggling to come up with unspectacular things at this point. Hmmm...let's see. Here's one! I always have a toothpick in my purse. Well, technically, I rarely have A toothpick in my purse, I usually have quite a few in there. It would be weird to always have a single toothpick in your purse. That would mean that you just carried around the same toothpick all the time and either never used it or used it over and over. That's disgusting.
I like toothpicks. Everyone should carry around toothpicks because almost everyone needs to use one after they eat. My dad used to keep toothpicks in his car ashtray. He also kept a pack of Doublemint gum in there. Therefore his toothpicks were always minty fresh.
6. I always keep the free address labels sent to me by various organizations looking for donations. I have some from PETA and The St. Jude's Children's Hospital and The Wildlife Federation and many others. However, I never use them. I just have them sitting in various places around the house. I should throw them away.

There you go. All my unspectacular things.
I would like to know everyone's unspectacular things, but I don't know how to tag people and I only know 3 people who have blogs and all three already did this. So, when you comment, just tell me one unspectacular thing about yourself. If you can come up with 6, go for it! It's harder than you think. Especially when you have a superiority complex, like I do.

I missed you!!

2008-08-08T19:11:00.006-06:00

Honest to God, you want to know why I haven't written anything in a month? Well, I'll tell you...

First of all, I can't sit down at this damn computer without someone coming in and asking me what I am doing or asking when I am going to be done or telling me that their sister is doing something heinous to them or something. And by the time those distractions have gone to bed I just want to have a glass of wine and calm down and by the time I finish my (water)glass of wine I am too drunk to write anything.

Second of all, you would think I would have more time in the summer since I don't have to run kids to lessons or make lunches for school and I am only working 12 hours a week...but NO! There's always something going on that takes up my time and energy. For example: I taught at Vacation Bible School this summer. (I did this last summer too and have done so for many a summer.) Well, VBS runs an entire week from 9:00 to noon. However, as a teacher I got there at 8:30 and stayed until at least 12:30. Plus, I had two extra kids staying in my house that week because my friend's daughters wanted to go to VBS and it was easier (for my friend) to just have them stay here. Add to that the prep time to be ready to teach. I was teaching 6th grade, so it's not like I could go in there with finger puppets and a smile. Let's face it, if I were teaching 1st grade and they asked some question about the Bible story like, "What's circumcision?" I could just say, "It's when a boy has his....oh look! A chicken!" and all the kids would spend 20 minutes looking for the chicken and forget about foreskin. In 6th grade they would have real questions about the Bible story like, "Why did the Jews have to sacrifice the fatted calf and where did they do it and did everyone have an altar and why would a loving God tell Abraham to sacrifice his son and why would a father do that?"

Love ya, kid. Now just hold still while I slit your throat.

The chicken ploy rarely works in that instance. So, I had to prepare. Additionally, I was really, really sick with bronchitis and had the mother of all sore throats. I think I went to bed at 9:00 every night that week.

Third of all, I am still working. Granted, I only work two days a week and only from 8:00 until 2:00. AND I work whatever two days I want and if I don't feel like going in because I want to go to Galena or teach VBS or something I just tell them I'm not coming. AND I work for about a half an hour before I get hungry and go get something to eat. AND I tend to answer the phone and end up spending 20 minutes on the phone with a student or a student's parent even if they have a really simple question because we just "get to talking" and the next thing I know we are BEST FRIENDS...but it is still taxing on me. Seriously. For example, I went into work one Thursday and went into my bosses office, shut the door and told him all the things that went on around the office that bugged me. I mean, someone left an empty pop can on my desk and my office mate is a slob who complains incessantly, etc. Then, the following week I came in and there was crap all over my desk (which I sit at for approximately 12 hours a week as opposed to the full time people who work 40 hours) and my favorite highlighter was gone and I had to spend a good half an hour cleaning off my desk and looking for my highlighter. I was so pissed off that I brought it up at our department meeting. The next day I was mad because my boss brought in a bunch of temps who messed up all the files and gave people all the wrong information and I was going to have to spend my whole day fixing what they had fucked up. I complained to the second in command and to my office mate and to the woman who trained me. Ten minutes later my boss came in my office and said, "Carolyn. When you have a minute will you come to my office please?" I looked at my office mate and said, "Shit. I'm going to get in trouble for complaining." Tell me this isn't STRESSFUL!! So, I went back to his office and he handed me a paper and said, "I decided to bump you up." What?? After all the bitching I had done for the past two weeks my reward was a raise. I'm not kidding you. And not just some piddly 50 cent an hour raise either. (I'm only part time so I get an hourly rate...) No, no, no. I got a $4.00 an hour raise! Imagine if I worked a little harder! I think I got the raise just because everyone in the office likes me and thinks I'm funny. Plus, I'm always bringing in food because I like to bake but I hate to eat. Either way, I figure I'm never going to get fired now unless I strip naked and dance around with financial aid files covering my ass. Even then, I'd probably just get a warning.

Forth of all, I have been really stressed about my tan. I am about the whitest person you will ever meet, for the most part. But in the summer I like to be tan because it's hard enough putting on a bathing suit...being really, really white doesn't help. So, after consulting with my friend Jim, I decided to go the spray-tan route. Jim even sent me coupons via email because he is the best cyber-friend ever! I am going to be really disappointed if he isn't this really handsome, stylish gay man who lives a glamorous life of travel and excitement in LA and is really a complete dork of a poser who lives in his mother's basement in Baltimore. That would suck. In any case, I spray tanned a couple of times and I spent a lot of time at the pool with my kids so I could maintain my "pay no attention to the effect gravity has had on my boobs, just admire my glow" of a tan. Well, my pool time has been limited as of late and so my tan is fading so I have become obsessed with self-tanners. BUT, I am too stupid to put them on evenly (which has nothing to do with the fact that I put on my self-tanner at night after my medicinal water-glass of wine) so I end up with some pretty fun fake-tan patterns on my legs. So then I spend an inordinate amount of time with my Bath and Body Works Sensual Amber body scrub and my loofah in the shower so I can wear capris to work without looking like, well, like an idiot who put on her self-tanner when she was drunk.

Fifth of all, and on a more serious note, my dad has been going steadily downhill and although my mother seems to be holding up really well I can't help but worry about her. My dad doesn't remember how to get in the car anymore. You have to tell him which leg goes in first and tell him to duck his head so he doesn't hit it and then you have to tell him where he's going because he doesn't even know where home is anymore. He can't carry on a conversation or even put together a coherent sentence. I don't know how my mom carries on from day to day. This summer while I was working, she and my dad would come in and hang out with the kids until I got home. Mom would do some of my laundry or make the beds and she would play games with the kids and go for walks with them and actually have real conversations with them. Then I would come home and we would talk and sometimes they would stay for dinner or stay and watch the Cubs game or whatever. One day she re-arranged the cabinets in my laundry room which I don't like but will never change because she was so excited to show me and so pleased to be able to help. I liked the way I had them arranged, but in the grand scheme of things I don't really give a shit. My mom is WAY more important than where the Spray 'n Wash is. (And don't tell me to go ahead and put them back the way they were. She checks when she comes over.) In any case, I spend a lot of time worrying about them. And because school goes in soon, next week is the last week they will be coming in to "babysit" for the girls. I know how much my mom has enjoyed being here. As a matter of fact, on the phone tonight she was telling me that she realized and was sad that next week was the last week she was needed. How can I tell her that she is always "needed" and that I want her to keep coming? I am going to have to think of reasons for them to come over twice a week! It means so much to all of us and I know it helps keep her sane. ARRRGGGHHH!! I never counted on my parents getting old! I'm not grown up enough to deal with it! I just want my mommy and daddy to be the same forever and ever.

So, sorry I haven't been blogging more. I've been a little busy. Oh, and I went to a George Michael concert, my daughter's dance recital, Brenna turned 13 and had a "Mall Crawl" birthday party which was fantastic, Bronte played in the girl's softball All-Star game and threw out two girls in one inning, I went to an all-day music festival with the girls, went to Galena, a minor-league baseball game (which was a riot), and got my hair highlighted which I decided I absolutely hate.

How's your summer?

50 out of 99

2008-07-11T09:16:00.006-06:00

I got this list of books from Jim's Blog. I thought it would be fun to see how many of these books I've actually read. However, upon reading this list I have to wonder who the hell made this list up. Go ahead and see what I've read and then count up how many you've read and we'll see who wins!!

Instructions:
A) Look at the list and bold those you have read.

B) Italicize those you intend to read. (I didn't do this. It's stupid.)

C) Change to blue the books you LOVE.

D) change the color to pink if you've seen the movie (and perhaps that's good enough for you). I didn't do this either because some of the books I love were made into movies that I saw and I can't do pink and blue at the same time.
Read on, I put comments after every single book on the list.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen I can hardly remember this book. I read it in college.

2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien Honestly, I barely made it through The Hobbit. Why would I ever want to read these? I never saw the movies either. I know that I will get a bunch of flack for this from you Lord of the Rings freaks, but they look enormously stupid to me.

3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte A book that you need to really be committed to. Once you get the hang of the language, it's compelling.

4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling Hello! This should count as 7 books, right?

5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee I made my mother-daughter book club read this last summer because it's such a great book. I was afraid that a bunch of 11 and 12 year olds would never finish it, but they all loved it.

6 The Bible I know that a bunch of people are going to claim to have read this but they really didn't. I really did. I did a year long, once a week for 3 hours Bible study and we literally read every single word. So, I can honestly say I have rad the entire Bible. Jesus is smiling.

7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte This is a great book too. I named my daughter after the three Bronte sisters. Did anybody out there make that connection??

8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell I read this in high school. I didn't get it. I don't care. I will never re-read it.

9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman Brenna read this...wait, isn't this a series? Is it by that God-hater? I think so.

10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens I read it. I can't remember a thing about it though.

11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott This is one of my absolute favorite books. I can't believe Jo didn't end up with Laurie though. Still a big disappointment to me. I never saw the movie (either one) because I didn't want to ruin my picture of what the characters looked like. Plus, the recent remake had Winona Rider in it and I loathe her.

12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy I love the name Tess.

13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller One of my husband's favorite books.

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare I have read a shit-load of Shakespeare. Took an entire class on Shakespeare in college. But, I haven't read them all. I bet the idiot who made this list hasn't read them all either. I only say that the person who wrote this is an idiot because s/he skipped number 44. Anyone who read the entire works of Shakespeare can count to 100.

15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier Wasn't this a movie?

16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien I read this in grade school because my sister was going to be in the play. She was some sort of wood sprite or something.

17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks I've never even heard of this book.

18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger My husband hates this book.

19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger This book has the weirdest premise, but somehow you manage to buy into it and believe.

20 Middlemarch - George Eliot What the heck is this book about? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell I read this book on vacation in Florida when I was in high school. It rained the entire time we were there and this was the fattest book I could find at the bookstore we went to. It's a great book. Better than the movie.

22 The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald This is one of my favorite books of all time. It has some of the most beautiful lines ever written. I have always wanted to be described as someone whose voice is full of money, like Daisy.

23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens Sounds depressing.

24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy There's no fucking way I am ever going to read this.

25 The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams This book has always looked stupid to me.

26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh I think I'll catch the BBC version on Public TV instead.

27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky This was the first "classic" book I ever read. I think it is one of the best books ever.

28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck I think this was a movie too, eh?

29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll I think this book is kind of silly, but my husband loves it.

30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame Read it when was a kid.

31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy I bought this book when I was pregnant with Bronte. Still haven't read it.

32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens Hard to believe that I never read this one.

33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis See number 36

34 Emma - Jane Austen I never saw this movie. The book was good enough for me.

35 Persuasion - Jane Austen I have no intention of reading this.

36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis The reason the person who wrote this is an idiot is because this book is part of The Chronicles of Narnia and if s/he had actually READ the books on this list, s/he would know that.

37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini I checked this out from the library when it first came out. I couldn't put it down. I went to the eye doctor and read it there and I was so pissed off when they dilated my eyes because then I had to stop reading.

38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres This was a movie too, right?

39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden I read this after I saw the movie.

40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne I still have my childhood copy of this book.

41 Animal Farm - George Orwell I hated this book.

42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown I have never seen this movie. I intended to, but when I saw how Tom Hanks had his hair in the commercials for it, I knew I could never sit all the way through it looking at his ugly hair.

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez I would have to be stranded on a desert island with nothing but this book in order to read it.

45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins Never heard of it.

46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery I read this book to Brenna when she was in second grade. By the time we got to the chapter where Mr. Cuthbert dies I was sobbing and she had to read the rest to me. I love this book.

47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy Don't know this one either.

48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood In general, I like Margaret Atwood, but I really didn't like this book.

49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding I hated this book.

50 Atonement - Ian McEwan Read the book then saw the movie. Liked the movie better.

52 Dune - Frank Herbert Didn't read it or see the movie.

53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons Huh?

54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen I would like to see this movie.

55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth huh?

56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon ditto

57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens Can't believe I never read this either.

58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley Yuck.

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon Everyone should read this book.

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez Will never read this either.

61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck Didn't like this book much.

62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov Always intended to read this, but never did.

63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt Wasn't this one of Oprah's book picks? Right. Like she reads those books.

64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold I think this is being made into a movie, right?

65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas Not in a million years.

66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac Not in two million years.

67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy Not in two and a third million years.

68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding Give me a break. What the fuck?

69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie Nope.

70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville No interest in a fish tale.

71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens Poor little Oliver.

72 Dracula - Bram Stoker This book scared the crap out of me. I suffered through the movie with Winona Rider just so I could see Gary Oldman. He's brilliant.

73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett I hate gardening.

74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Who the heck is Bill?

75 Ulysses - James Joyce I think I read the Cliff Notes in college.

76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath Another important book I never read.

77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome Never heard of it.

78 Germinal - Emile Zola Managed to dodge this bullet in college.

79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray Nope.

80 Possession - AS Byatt Never heard of it.

81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens Hasn't everyone read this?

82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell Never heard of it.

83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker Never saw the movie and never will. Oprah is in it. I don't like Oprah.

84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro I love this movie too.

85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert Read this in high school.

86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry Never heard of it.

87 Charlotte's Web - EB White My first grade teacher read this aloud to us over a period of time. When Charlotte died at the end, I was so distraught that the nurse called my mom and I went home. I couldn't believe the teacher read us such a sad book.

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom I know this book is supposed to be so great, but I thought it was totally hokey.

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle I read Encyclopedia Brown when I was a kid.

90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton What?

91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad Read it in high school

92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery I've read this book dozens of times.

93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks Huh?

94 Watership Down - Richard Adams Love this book, but not enough to make it blue.

95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole I've heard of this book, but have no idea what it's about.

96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute ????????????

97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas No interest.

98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare Read it in my college class.

99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl I read everything by Roald Dahl when I was a kid. I love the movie with my friend Johnnie Depp. He's brilliantly creepy.

100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo Saw the musical. Loved it. Cried. Unless the book is going to sing to me, I think I'll skip it.

So, I've actually read 50 of these 100 books (actually, there are only 99 books on the list). How about you?

Carolyn RULES!!!

2008-07-04T12:37:00.005-06:00

I just made a lovely 4th of July trifle. It has pound cake and strawberries and blueberries and bananas and a whipped cream cheesecake filling. It is just beautiful and I told Tony to tell me how it tastes when we finally get around to eating it. The reason Tony has to tell me how it tastes is because I won't actually be eating any of it. No, it's not because I don't want the calories or because I am allergic to any of the ingredients. It's because I can't stand wet cake. Cake should be dry, not soggy. When I was a kid I never had ice cream and cake at birthday parties because the lazy moms who served ice cream and cake always put them both on the same plate. What the fuck? Ice cream and cake should NEVER, EVER touch. That's just disgusting. If you can't serve the ice cream in a separate dish then just don't bother. I don't like cakes with filling, I don't like cakes with fancy sauces, I don't like cakes with jelly and don't even get me started on the bastard ice-cream cakes. So, today when Tony told me that my trifle looked pretty and I responded with, "You'll have to tell me how it tastes," and then went on to explain my cake guidelines he said, "You need to write all this down."
So, here it goes...Carolyn's Rules (and not just on food either)
No Cooked Fruit:
I love fruit. I eat fruit every single day. However, I do not eat cooked fruit. I hate fruit pies. I hate fruit cobblers. I hate sweet and sour anything because it has hot pineapple in it. Mushy, hot cooked fruit makes me gag. I particularly loathe cooked raisins. I loathe uncooked raisins too, for that matter. Why would I want to eat a petrified grape? Sick.
There are two exceptions to the "cooked fruit" rule. The first is pineapple and Canadian bacon pizza. I love that. The second is blueberry muffins. Blueberry muffins are my absolute favorite muffins ever. I also like banana bread, but that doesn't count in the "cooked fruit" category because there aren't any big chunks of mushy cooked banana in banana bread. It's all mashed up and is not discernible as "cooked fruit". Don't tell me this doesn't make any sense because I don't give a shit what you think makes sense. These are MY rules.
No White Shoes:
The only white shoes that I find acceptable are manufactured by Nike. Other than that, white shoes are ugly and I hate them. Even my wedding shoes were off-white. Go ahead and send me pictures of all your fabulous white shoes...I hate them already.
No Grilled Food:
I don't understand the fascination with grilling. First of all, when you grill food you have to do it outside. Why would I want to cook outside? That's where all the nature is...and I don't want any nature in my food. To top it all off, you put some perfectly good meat on a grill that is filthy and you expect me to EAT IT? No fucking way. I can't stand the taste of grilled food either. You see those lines on a grilled burger?
That's all the dirt and grease and salmonella left behind by previously grilled food. Why would I want to eat that? I don't even like fake grilled food, like "flame broiled" burgers from Burger King. Those taste gross too.
I Always Drive:
Tony doesn't even pretend to want to drive whenever we go anywhere. It's not worth the grief. I am a terrible, terrible rider. I always tell Tony he's going too slow, or that he should put on the windshield wipers/lights/radio, etc. I roll my eyes and shake my head and ask things like, "What are you doing??!" Strangely enough, though, I HATE it when people tell me how to drive. Last night we were coming home from a baseball game and I slammed on the brakes at a yellow light. Tony abhors it when I do that and he loudly yelled, "Jesus!" and made a very tense mad face. I immediately turned on him. "What's your problem? Would you rather I RAN the light?" He wisely refused to take the bait and an argument was averted, but it still pissed me off.
I Have Refrigeration Issues:
I keep a cooler in the back of my car in the summer. That way, when I go grocery shopping I can put the refrigerated stuff in it for transport. Never mind that I live 5 minutes from the grocery store; that stuff could easily go bad in 5 minutes. I'm not taking that chance. When I was a kid I almost died from eating improperly refrigerated egg salad. Well, not exactly...my mother made egg salad from hard boiled eggs that had not been refrigerated for 3 days. You see, we went to New Jersey for Easter to visit my mom's family and dyed eggs while we were there. when we left, my mother packed a few in her suitcase and we drove back to Illinois, stopping for the night somewhere halfway. When we got back, my mom unpacked the Easter eggs and made egg salad and fed it to me and our next door neighbor for lunch. By 2 o'clock we were throwing up blood. Seriously.
So, don't be shocked if you are eating dinner at my house and half-way through the meal I start putting food in the fridge. I can guarantee you that no food at my house will ever cause you to puke blood. I may grab the salad dressing out of your hands the second you are done putting it on your salad so I can put it back in the fridge and I might urge you to drink your milk before it loses it's chill and therefore would need to be disposed of...but you will never get sick from lack of proper refrigeration. That's a promise.
Containers Are Important:
Pop should only be drunk out of a plastic glass. (Unless it's fountain pop and then it comes in paper)
Milk and water should be in a glass glass.
I hate the lids on "to go" coffee and always throw them away. I refuse to drink coffee with a damn lid on it. I will keep the lid on in the car for transport, but I take it off to drink it.
Speaking of coffee, it should never be served in a transparent glass mug. It doesn't even taste right in a glass mug. When I order a coffee and Bailey's in a restaurant, I always tell them I want it in a regular coffee cup. If I forget and they give it to me in a glass mug, I send it back and tell them to put it in a regular coffee cup.

Other Things I believe:
If you don't know the words, don't sing.
Don't read over my shoulder.
Colored mascara is stupid.
Magazines should always be stacked, never fanned out; it's too hard to get them properly spaced when they are fanned out and it doesn't look right.
Cut flowers are pretty, but they are a waste of money; skip the flowers and give me ten bucks instead.
Sleeping naked is wrong.
Don't pick your nose while you are driving...I can still see you. What makes you think you can't be seen?
Your Christmas tree should be taken down before New Year's Eve.
All women look better with make-up.
All plates should have separate compartments for different foods so that they never touch.

Economics be damned!!

2008-06-15T20:25:00.006-06:00

Well, looky there! It's a picture I took with my fabulous green digital camera. I think, however, that from now on I will have to call it my fabulous green albatross digital camera. Yes, yes, I HAD to have it and I love taking photos with it, but I may never know how to download the stupid things onto the computer (Tony did it for me) and I don't really even understand what some of the settings mean, let alone know how to adjust the damn settings. And before you get all over my case about reading the instruction book...I read the fucking book, okay? I still don't get it. I liken the digital camera to my college economics class. I didn't get that either. I even had my brilliant MBA student boyfriend try to help me, but he finally threw his hands up in the air and called me stupid. He still denies ever calling me stupid, but he did and he knows it. Big deal, so I don't understand economics. I really don't even remember most of it...I think it had something to do with supply and demand and the economy. WHATEVER! I can't believe people actually study that. It all boils down to: Everybody wants cool stuff. There isn't enough cool stuff to go around. Soooo...you have to decide if you really NEED the cool stuff or if you just WANT the cool stuff...and that's called an economic decision. For example, I needed a digital camera (don't tell me I didn't need it, I most certainly did so just go with my logic here, OK?) and I wanted to get the one that best fit my budget while serving my needs, right? So I went to Costco, compared the various choices in digital camera technology and decided that it made economic sense to pay $10 more for a green camera even though the one that was less money was a better quality camera. After all, everyone I know has a silver digital camera and it is most definitely worth ten bucks NOT to have one that looks like everyone else's.
That, my dears, is economics in a nutshell.
Pat (the previously mentioned brilliant boyfriend who called me stupid) is now reading this and rolling his eyes in utter disgust. Who cares? I'm not stupid; economics is stupid.
Let me tell you a little story about Pat. He and I have been friends ever since I was 18 years old. We dated for a while and then we didn't and through it all we were always, always friends. He is still my friend. We made it through our "practice" marriages, our divorces, my dad's 2 month hospital ordeal, the death of his incredible parents who raised a shit-load of really great kids, the births of my children, the loss of his hair, and some crappy heart-break and remained friends. He recently installed door alarms at my parent's house so that if my dad tries to "escape" in the middle of the night the alarm will go off and my mom will wake up. I think my mom got her first restful and complete night of sleep in years the night after he did this. I didn't ASK Pat to do this; he just did because I was trying to figure out how to keep my dad from running away again. So, he asked for the key to my parent's house and went over there and installed them and then wouldn't even let me pay for the equipment. Pat is the kind of guy who will jump up in the middle of lunch at Panera and hold the restaurant door open for someone in a wheelchair. The story I am going to tell will illustrate what a great guy Pat is...but since he also called me stupid once I feel compelled to include a picture of him circa 1984.

I only wish that he was looking at the camera so you could see how BIG those plastic rimmed glasses were. And...HELLO!! Is that a spiffy Member's Only jacket? Also, you can't tell from this photo, but Pat was so skinny that you could see his hipbones through his clothes. Luckily, he doesn't have to worry about his unfortunate male-pattern baldness anymore as he no longer has hair. Seriously, his only haircare product of choice is sunscreen. Clancy, the magnificent Irish Setter in this photo, was our family dog. Until I got Snoopy and Lucy (our beagles) I thought Clancy was the dumbest dog ever. Clancy once ran across the street because he saw a cat and ran full speed into the side of a police car that was cruising our neighborhood at about 5 MPH. The idiot dog knocked himself unconscious. So, he was laying there in the street and the cop gets out of his car just as I was running towards Clancy screaming, "What did you do to my dog?!?!?" The cop looked so confused as he answered, "Umm...he ran into my car. Right here on the passenger side door..." I was crying and yelling, "You killed my dog! You hit my dog! I can't believe you killed my dog!" At this point the policeman was getting really uncomfortable because our neighbors were starting to come out of their houses to see what was going on. So, as I am crying and yelling and the cop is apologizing and trying to explain that the dog hit HIM, not the other way around, Clancy wakes up, looks around and takes off after the damn cat again.

Okay, back to Pat. Pat came out to visit me once when I was living in an apartment with my friend Laura. We were constantly broke and when we did have money we spent it on Guess? jeans and Wham! albums. Needless to say, there wasn't anything in our fridge but Yoplait yogurt and cold pizza. Pat decided that we needed some food so he took us to the local Hy-Vee grocery store and told us that whatever the three of us could CARRY out (no shopping cart allowed) he would buy for us. I think there might have even been a time limit.Yipppeee!! It was like a game show. Laura and I quickly walked through the store picking out things that we could carry while Pat followed us around so he could help us carry what we had chosen. At one point, we had a gallon of milk, toilet paper, paper towels, some boxes of cereal and maybe some tampons. Pat looked at us, shook his head and yelled, "What are you doing?? Go get some steaks! Get meat! Get real food! Toilet paper?? What?? I'll buy ANYTHING IN THE STORE!" I think he fell just short of calling us stupid. Laura and I were laughing and laughing. Come on! Like we knew how to cook! What the fuck were we going to do with a bunch of meat? I think we compromised and got some ground beef and a box of Hamburger Helper. But, you see, even through this act of generosity, Pat was still trying to teach me about economics. What a guy.
I love you, Pat!

Here you go, Al

2008-05-22T15:19:00.007-06:00

My friend Alan, who comments on this blog occasionally, asked in the comments on my last blog why there weren't any college pictures in my last post. Well, I found a few that I would like to share. First let me tell you a little about my friend Alan. I dated him for a while in college. I met him through our mutual friend Laura. She and Alan had an art class together and she thought he was really cute but she had a boyfriend at the time. One day she decided that since she couldn't date him I should date him instead. Because she was my very best friend I told her I would, even though I knew he totally wouldn't be my type. She likes big muscly guys and I like men skinny and wiry. She likes big noses and, well...seriously. Who likes big noses? That's just weird. She likes hairy chests and I like no superfluous body hair. I liked really, really smart guys and...well, let's just say that her idea of smart and my idea of smart are completely different. For example...one of the guys I dated in college bought me a gift for no reason whatsoever once. It was a book called The Unbearable Lightness of Being. (That book was also made into a movie starring a young and very sexy Daniel Day-Lewis and a young and very sexy Lena Olin. There's tons of "meaningful and imperative to the story line" sex in the movie so I highly recommend it. Take a look at this picture:

I am pretty sure they get naked right after this. She keeps the hat on. It's hot. Plus, the movie itself is really about a lot more than just gorgeous people doing it. It is set in Czechoslovakia during the Soviet invasion in 1968. Besides just being gorgeous, the characters in this movie are very intelligent and they discuss political issues. It's just a really well done movie based on a fabulous book...and there's nudity. Who could ask for anything more?)

So, anyway, this boy gives me this book and tells me that it is the most beautiful love story ever written and it made him cry. Now, you have to understand that this is no "romance novel"; it is a wonderful book that really studies the characters of the three protagonists and the complicated way that love effects everything you do. I'm telling you, it was a very cool gift. This guy was well-read and bright and SMART. Laura's idea of a SMART guy was someone who went to classes on a regular basis and had maybe read a book at some point. Now, before I sound like a complete bitch, let me point something out: Laura's boyfriends were not dumb. We just valued different kinds of "smartie-ness". I married someone that I think is one of the smartest people I've ever met. Laura married someone that I don't think is particularly smart. I live in a little house that was built 40 years ago and is falling apart. She lives in a ginormous brand new house that sparkles. Hmmm... (As a brief aside, I wouldn't trade Tony for the biggest house Ty Pennington could build. At the end of the day, I have a spouse that I can really talk to and that's better than 5 bedrooms, 3 full baths, a three car garage and granite counter tops.)

So, I had very little hope for this meeting with Alan. All I knew for sure was that he was Jewish. Okay...at this point in my life I hadn't really dated anyone "ethnic" and I figured that Jewish counted as "ethnic" so I was willing to give it a shot. Plus, he was the president of his fraternity...so he couldn't be a total loser. Here is a photo of Alan in the front yard of my parents house:

Al was (and is) a very bright man, but he was totally high maintenance. Maybe it's a Jewish thing. He also had a greater appreciation for the finer things in life than I do. He could tell a real Rolex from a knock-off at 50 feet. The first thing he said when he drove through my parent's neighborhood was, "Do you have to own either a Cadillac or a Mustang to live here?"
On the other hand, he liked the funniest stuff. He totally had a thing for Barry Manilow. We went and saw him in concert once. It was hilarious. We were BY FAR the youngest people there. There were bus loads of polyester-clad middle aged women pulling into the parking lot with sheets hanging out the windows proclaiming "We Love You Barry!!" I guess they didn't get the memo saying Barry is GAY!!! He also had a theory about globes. You see, he owned a globe. I had never met anyone who wasn't a history teacher who actually owned a globe. Al told me that every Jewish boy gets a globe at his bar mitzvah. I don't know if that's a Jewish thing or an Al thing but I never forgot it. It also made me really, really, really want a globe. I got one right before they changed the names of whole bunch of little countries and the globe company sent me stickers to correct my globe.

Here is another picture. This one is of Al and me at his fraternity formal. Notice how my arm is bent at a funny angle? It looks like I am channeling Stephen Hawking. That's because Alan was squeezing me so tight that I couldn't move. He did that all the time. I think he did that just to prove that he was in charge. I'm surprised I didn't dislocate something during one of our photo ops. It never bothered me though; I thought it was funny. Still do. Later that same evening we looked like this: I loved that dress, but I was completely bummed about my shoes. Alan and I are about the same height, so I had to wear flat shoes. Seriously, it totally pissed me off. That's why I could have never married him. The shoes make the outfit, and to be limited for the rest of my life??? No fucking way. In any case, my hair looks so awful! I can't believe I ever wore my hair like this. On the other hand, Alan probably loves this picture because he actually HAS hair in it. Now, he has none.
In the end, he dumped me. I knew it was coming and I probably should have just broken up with him because we were both so over each other, but I could tell he was just so nervous about the actual dumping that I hung on for a few weeks to see what would happen. As it turns out, Alan took me to dinner and he was so nervous he couldn't even eat. I, on the other hand, was starving. So our entrees came, I ate mine, he dumped me and I asked, "Are you gonna eat that?" and then I proceeded to eat his dinner too.
As it turns out, we became friends and that was even better.
So--there you go, Alan. I DO have some pictures from college.

I can SCAN!!

2008-05-15T15:00:00.010-06:00

I am totally envious of Jim's blog because he is forever putting old family photos on his blog and I have never been able to figure out how to do that....until today! Oh yes, I figured out how to use the scanner and now you will be amazed and thrilled by some of my old family photos.

Judging from this photo, my parents really knew how to party when I was a baby. Notice how the keg (and the beer my dad is holding up) is the focal point of the photo, not ME? Here is the only picture I have of my brother, sister and me all together. I am the little one in the front trying to pretend like my dress isn't entirely too short. My sister and brother both look like they would rather be anywhere but posing with their siblings and the family dog. I'm sure that Rob and Pam (my sibs) got in the Pinto hatchback right after this and went to the beach to smoke dope. I probably went in the house and played with my Lite Brite.Now, here's a big jump. Yep, it's the 80's. See how preppy I was? I would have added some pictures of me between the age of 5 and this one, but I don't think my parents took any. Being the third child there aren't a whole lot of pictures of me. Anyway...I was all about the preppy look in high school. I even had the preppy handbook and a watch with interchangeable grosgrain ribbon bands and enough fair isle sweaters to choke a horse. Look! Here's a picture of me in a fair isle sweater: That's me in the front with the white sweater on. I have no idea who all those other people are or what we were doing or where we were. I promptly forgot high school and everyone in it the minute I stepped out of the gym after graduating. Wait, I take that back. I remember Todd, my homecoming date junior year. He was so cute. Right? Isn't he cute? Look what I am wearing. I don't know if you can tell, but those are knickers. I loved that outfit. I've pretty much always hated dresses. I took a lot of grief for that ensemble. Apparently it wasn't cool to wear anything but a stupid Gunne Sax dress to homecoming. Do you remember Gunne Sax dresses? They were fucking UGLY. Take a look: There is no way I was going to wear one of those. No wonder I wasn't elected homecoming princess. This one is from a surprise 18th birthday party my friends threw me. I had on my favorite Frye cowboy boots. Look at those other people in the photo. I have no clue who the hell they are. They were my friends, though! I do remember that one girl left the party and promptly drove into someones mailbox and the cops came to the door after she told them she came from a party. As I recall, the cops questioned us all about drinking, which we weren't. We did after they left though!! Here's the last photo of me and my first serious boyfriend. I'm sure I liked him pretty well, but let me tell you something: I LOVED his car. I think his Mach 1 is in every single photo ever taken of the two of us. I dated him for two years. When he left for college, he sold that beautiful car and I totally dumped him. I tried to talk him out of selling it, but he claimed to need the money to pay for school. Right! Like he couldn't take out student loans like every body else.
I would post some recent photos, but I still don't know how to work my digital camera. No shit, I can't even take a stupid picture on it yet. I tried yesterday and I think I pushed too many buttons and I ended up with a short movie of my foot. I guess I'll have to read the stupid directions.

Welcome to the Digital Age, Young Whippersnapper!

2008-05-12T11:13:00.007-06:00

Okay everyone...get ready for this. I finally got myself a digital camera. So, you know what that means...as soon as I actually take it out of the package and learn to use it I will be posting pictures on my blog all the time. (Translated: As soon as TONY takes it out of the package and BRENNA learns how to use it and then teaches me I will be posting pictures on my blog all the time.)

Here is what my digital camera looks like:

Isn't it pretty? Apparently you can take pictures with it too! However, I wouldn't know because it's in some hermetically sealed packaging from Costco and I may never get the stupid thing out. That's the downside of buying things from Costco; unfriendly packaging. We bought Bronte an IPod Nano there for Christmas and I think it took until dinner to get the thing out of the clamshell. (Yes, I know...Bronte was only 6 years old at Christmas and why in the world does a 6 year old need an IPod, blah, blah, blah. Shut up. I'll buy my 6 year old an IPod if I want to. Besides, if you know Bronte then you understand why buying her an IPod makes perfect sense. She is WAAAAYYY more savvy than your average 7 year old.)
Anyway, my new digital camera was a Mother's Day gift. Tony actually got me one from Target but when Brenna opened it and started to mess around with it so she could teach me how to use it, she discovered that it was USED! "How?" you may ask and I will tell you. It had some else's pictures in it! There were sexy photos of some ugly fat woman on a bed with a cat. And the cat was in the foreground. Yep. Pussy pictures. Then there was a couple of pictures of her tattooed boyfriend holding the cat. They must love their fucking cat, that's all I can say. So, I took the sullied camera back to Target because I wanted a BRAND NEW camera. (Now, if the people who had the camera before me were beautiful dog-people instead of ugly cat-people, I might have kept it. But, I couldn't keep it after I saw who had previously touched it. I have standards.) Needless to say, Target didn't have another one. So, I looked at all the digital cameras in the Target camera case and asked about another one that was similarly priced. Well, Alex, the pimply high school Target camera specialist, was sorry to tell me that they didn't have any of those particular cameras either. So, I thought, "Well, I'll get one that's a little more expensive because gas is $4 a gallon and I don't want to drive around to a bunch of other Targets looking for this dumb camera." So I asked Alex if they had the $159 Polaroid digital camera. Regrettably, no. Not in stock. How about the Fuji $159 camera? Sorry, out of stock. So, then I looked at Alex and asked, "Does the Target camera department actually SELL cameras or just display them?" The humor was lost on Alex and I wasn't amused either, so needless to say I left Target empty-handed and took my business to Costco. First of all, let me just tell you that I fucking LOVE Costco. I especially love Costco on the weekend because it's sample day. I could walk into Costco on a Sunday afternoon starving to death and leave 30 minutes later so full that I am nauseated. If you know one thing about me, it's that I have a terrible relationship with food and I feel guilty every time I eat something...unless it's FREE. I love FREE food. So, yesterday I tried sun-dried tomato sausages and beef taquitos and salmon patties and cheesecake. The only thing I didn't try was the Australian black licorice. It's not that I have anything against Australians, although I must admit that I didn't know they were specialists in black licorice, I just hate black licorice. However, because it was FREE food, I almost ate it. I did take a piece just because it was FREE, but I made my mother-in-law (with whom I was shopping) eat it, even though she has braces and said she wasn't supposed to have licorice. I told her she had to eat it because if she didn't then I would and then I would throw up in her lovely clean car on the way home because black licorice makes me sick and I wasn't going to pass up FREE food so she was obligated to eat it. I'm sure she didn't follow my logic, but she ate it anyway...probably just to get me to shut up.

Anyway, so after spending a good 30 minutes standing in front of the Costco camera display, my mother-in-law and I decided on a Casio camera with 10 mega-pixels and a rechargeable battery and some fancy movie thing...shit, I don't know. I don't even know what a mega-pixel is, although the camera guy at Costco tried to explain it to me 10 times. I just picked that one because it was the same price as the one at Target and my mother-in-law seemed to think it was the best deal. So, we take the slip of paper from the Costco camera guy so that we can pay for it up front and then, after we pay for it, they can go get it out of the lock up area. I think that's stupid. They lock up the digital cameras and the cigarettes at Costco. They have packages of meat that cost more than some of those digital cameras, but they don't lock up the pork chops. Whatever. In any case, needless to say, I wait in line for 20 minutes, pay for the camera, wait in line in front of the cage where they keep the cameras and smokes, then wait for the Costco employee to get my hermetically sealed camera only to have him come back empty handed and tell me that the only one they have is the display camera so he has to go get it. I said, "Why didn't they tell me that when I was looking at it?" He said, "Well, they don't know what we have in stock unless they call us and ask." I pointed out to him that this system SUCKED and that I didn't want some stupid display camera that other people, probably even ugly cat-people, had touched. So, guess what? I had to stand in line to get my money back for my imaginary camera. AAHHHH!!

Well, this morning I went to a different Costco. I was all ready to buy the same camera I had attempted to purchase the day before (which I knew they had in stock because I made the idiots at the other Costco check on it for me) when the helpful Costco camera person suggested that I might like the camera that was $10 more. I said, "But it has 8.1 mega pixels as opposed to the 10 mega pixels in the one I chose. So what's the advantage to the more expensive one?" You know what she said? She said (and I shit you not, my friends), "Well, this one comes in different colors. AND, it comes with a carrying case." That was a good enough reason for me!! So I got the green one. Turns out that, in addition to being $10 more expensive for no good reason, it also takes FEWER pictures on a single battery charge than the cheaper one does!! However, it is green, not silver. I could have gotten a blue one instead, but I decided on green. The cheaper, more pixeled and more pictures per battery charge camera only came in ONE stupid color. Silver. Blech.

I think I made the right choice.

I'm on Al Gore's Payroll

2008-04-30T20:22:00.002-06:00

I saw this on another blog and since I am a sucker for any quiz-type thing that's all about ME (just ask Jim), I had to do it.

1. Your Rock Star name (first pet, current vehicle):
Duchess Durango (that worked out fairly well...I am a sucker for alliteration.)

2. Your 'gangsta name (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite shoe):
Now, if you know me then you KNOW that the first word that comes to mind when you think of me is 'gangsta. I'm the first one to threaten to pop a cap in your ass...I like hangin' with my bitches...you know; the regular 'gansta stuff. This name just proves that I was born to be a part of the 'gangsta life: Jamoca Almond Fudge Doc
Shit! I sound dangerous. I think it's the word Jamoca.

3. Your Native American name(favorite color, favorite animal):
Orange Cougar
I must admit...I don't really have a favorite animal. But, a cougar was just shot in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Apparently it was just wandering around the city and the cops cornered it and shot it to death. OK...so here's what I think. First of all, I don't know where the cougar came from, but it was alone and confused. Second of all, we (the people) are taking away all the natural habitats these animals have. We are building McMansions everywhere and stupid strip malls full of the same stores that are 10 miles down the road in an identical strip mall. If cougars are wandering around the streets like drunken homeless people, it is our own fault. Third of all, this cougar didn't just appear out of nowhere. There had been sightings for days. Why weren't the police ready with a tranquilizer gun or something? Why did they have to kill it? WHERE'S FUCKING PETA??? They should be outraged! All I know is, if they could prove that this animal was unarmed and confused and African American, then Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson would be all over the news talking about the corrupt white cops out to get the minority in Chicago.

4. Your Soap Opera name(middle name, city where you were born):
Jean Moline.
Okay, that's hilarious (mostly because it's the truth). Say it out loud. It rhymes. How funny is that? If that were my stage name then I would fully deserve to only be on soap operas FOREVER. Who could take "Jean Moline"seriously? I would emote and emote for years and never win a Daytime Emmy because of my name.

5. Your Star Wars name(first three letters of your last name, first two letters of your first):
(Princess) Phica
The Princess part is implied. I'm telling you, if I had to put on all that stupid makeup and have some stupid looking hairstyle to be in a movie with a cast of billions, then I better be a freakin' Princess. Plus my name would be pronounced FI-CA. Ick. Like the plant.
Gedca
That's if I go with my maiden name. I think in that case I would want to be Emperor Gedca. And I'd want to be a bad guy. That'd be way funner.

6. Superhero name(second favorite color, favorite drink):
Green Coffee
Sounds like an environmental superhero. I'd be chasing down Juan Valdez to make sure he wasn't using pesticides on his coffee plants. Not quite as bad-ass as I would have liked. Jim's superhero is way, way better. Take a look.

7. NASCAR name(first names of your grandfathers):
Arthur Robert

8. Stripper name(the name of your favorite perfume, cologne/scent, favorite candy):
Prada Kit Kat

9. TV Weather Anchor name(Your 5Th grade teachers' last name, a city that starts with the same letter):
Szech Sacramento
(It's pronounced like BEACH with an S) I think that name sounds bitchy.

10. Spy name(your favorite season/holiday, and your favorite flower):
Halloween Tulip
with a name like that, you would have to assume that I was a pretty shitty spy. Seriously.

11. Cartoon name(favorite fruit, article of clothing you're wearing right now):
Kiwi Bra
It'd be funnier if coconut was a fruit...and it was my favorite. Here's another one (I like lots of fruits.)
Pineapple Hoodie
That one is totally 'gansta.
12. Hippie name(what you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree):
Coffee Christmas
Oh yes, I can smell the cannabis now. It's the summer of love.

13. "Adult film" star name(first pet, first street that you lived on):
Didn't we already use the name of my first pet? I am going to move on to my second pet. In that same spirit, I am going to use the name of the second street that I lived on (because I don't know the name of the first.)
ToTo Park Boulevard

My Hamburger Phone

2008-04-25T11:42:00.002-06:00

Have you seen Juno? I watched it with my daughter (the 12 year old one, not the 7 year old one) and her friend the other night. It was only slightly inappropriate. (I know this because Brenna pointed that out to me about 15 minutes into the movie.)
At the end of the movie I was trying to figure out how to talk to Brenna and her friend about it. You know...it's about teenage pregnancy, adoption, divorce...etc. I wanted to talk to them about sex and consequences and the spiritual ramifications of having sex while in high school. However, I could only think of one thing to say.

"I can guarantee that you will have at least a couple of girls get pregnant while you are in high school. However, I can also guarantee that they won't be anywhere as cool and bright as Juno. They'll be skanks."

Another banner "mommy moment" for me.

And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva...

2008-04-14T21:07:00.002-06:00

You know what happened on April Fool's Day? It snowed. Really.

April Fool's Day was also my birthday. Really. Yes, now I am 27 years old. HA!

It was a great birthday. Tony got me tickets to go see Mandy Patinkin at the Chicago Theater. We went the Saturday before my birthday and it was FABULOUS! It was fun to be the token Gentiles, since Mandy's Chicago fan base is predominately Jewish. We had box seats and the other people in the box were a lovely Jewish couple who were celebrating their 55th wedding anniversary. When I told them that we were there celebrating my birthday they asked how old I was. After I confessed my ACTUAL age, the woman looked at me and said, "Honey, I've got clothes older than you." Love, love, love her!! In any case, they were very cute. The husband pulled their wedding photo out of his wallet and confessed that she was only 19 when they got married. His wife smacked him on the arm when he told us, saying, "Maury! Now they know how old I am!" He replied, "What? I just told them how old you were when we got married." She said, "Yes. And you told them we'd been married for 55 years. They look like smart kids...I'm sure they can add!"

Ha! Little does she know. I still can't figure out how old she is. I was a liberal arts major.

Anyway, Maury was so proud of his wedding picture; he had it laminated. Sophie, his wife, asked if we had any pictures of our kids and so the next thing I know we are chatting away about dance lessons and the school system, etc. It was great. Plus, the nice thing about the Chicago Theater is that they have cocktail waitresses milling about the box seat area taking drink orders before the show. Tony and I wanted to buy them an anniversary drink, but they both just wanted water so we got them a bottle of water. When the waitress brought it Maury tried to open it but couldn't get his arthritic hand to do it. Just when I was trying to decide how to offer to open it without sounding condescending he handed me the bottle and said, "I can't get this damn thing open," without any embarrassment whatsoever. It was just like being with my kids! They can't get any damn thing open either. When I tell you they were charming, I mean they were soooo charming. At one point Sophie mentioned how tickled she was to have some fun people to talk to. As the show time neared, I noticed that Sophie and Maury were only abut 5'2" and they were sitting in the two chairs behind us. Well, Tony and I aren't Amazons or anything, but we are taller than your average 80 year old Jewish couple. I whispered to Tony that I would like to give them our seats so they could see, but then the house lights dimmed and I noticed that the two front row seats next to us in the box were empty. So, I looked at Sophie and I said, "You two should sit here. Then you can see better and I'm sure those people won't show up now." So we helped them over to those seats (it was dark and I didn't want anyone to fall and break a hip).

Well, if you know anything about Mandy Patinkin, you know he sings a lot of standards and a bunch of show tunes during his show. Well, if Maury and Sophie knew the song, they would periodically sing along. If I hadn't already established a relationship with them I might have been slightly annoyed by this because you just don't sing along at a Mandy Patinkin show. It's not like seeing The Foo Fighters....it's theater. However, since I knew it was their anniversary and I knew how sweet they were I was just amused. Plus, I kept thinking about how much I wish my parents were there. I would give anything to hear my dad singing along to Pennies From Heaven...but I never will. My mom and dad won't be celebrating any more anniversaries because my dad doesn't even know who my mom is anymore. My mother may never see another show at the Chicago Theater and I know how much she and my dad used to love to go into Chicago and see shows. Because I was a late-in-life baby and my mother never liked to leave me with a baby sitter they would take me too. I saw Pippen when I was 8 (highly inappropriate, but I didn't really get it at the time). I saw Richard Burton in Camelot. I saw Katherine Hepburn in CoCo. I saw Evita (which is why I love Mandy Patinkin so much) and Beatlemania and The Wiz and Annie and so many more I can't even remember them all. My mom and dad loved to hear live music too. One of their favorite places was called Rick's Cafe and it was just a little jazz bar. They didn't always take me when they went there. Then I would be stuck at home with my stupid brother or sister. In any case, I do remember them taking me there once to see Oscar Peterson because he was my hero. Because I was (and am) a piano player, my dad made sure we had a table right by the stage sort-of even with the keyboard so I could watch Oscar's hands while he played. It was an incredible night. I drank virgin Pina Coladas and watched Oscar Peterson play piano until about 1:00 am. I even talked to him. I think I was about 12 at the time. It was a school night and I know I slept all the way home...which is probably a good thing considering Rick's Cafe had a 3 or 4 drink minimum and my folks were most certainly slightly shit-faced by the time we left.

Anyway, I would have loved to have taken them to see Mandy Patinkin, but thanks to Alzheimer's, my parents will never celebrate their anniversary like Maury and Sophie got to. My dad can't even put together a complete sentence anymore. But I still remember him as the man who slipped the maitre'd at Rick's Cafe a $50 so I could sit and watch Oscar Peterson's hands.

Anyway, at some point during the night, I noticed that there was a group of four guys in the box next to us. I noticed because one of them made some non-subtle comment about Sophie singing along to Brother Can You Spare A Dime. I tell you what, if I ever conveyed the sentiment, "Shut the fuck up, you stupid asshole" with just a stare, it was at that very moment. I must have looked fierce because I thought the kid (he was probably a 23 year old theater major) was going to wet himself. After the show was over (And the show was unbelievable. When Mandy sang Bring Him Home from Les Miserables I cried and cried. At one point Tony looked at me during that song and was surprised to see me crying. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't like musical theater. Sometimes I can't believe his father was gay! Did he learn nothing from his dad??) I actually hugged Sophie when we said good-bye. Weird, huh, since you all know I am so completely and totally not a toucher. But the whole evening had been so emotional for me and I just had to hug somebody. Yes, I know I could have hugged Tony....but I really wanted to hug Sophie. I was thinking about how she had told me that one of her kids had purchased the tickets for them...and how I wondered if that adult child realized how lucky he was to have such vibrant and interesting parents. I wondered why that child and spouse hadn't come to the show with them. Didn't he know that he might not always have the opportunity to spend time with his folks, enjoying music together and (yes) maybe being a little embarrassed when they sang along? I know that Sophie and Maury probably forgot all about us when they left the theater, but I will never forget them. They were one of the things that made that night so wonderful.

Oh! One of the other things that I loved about the show was how Mandy ended it. He looked out into the audience, lowered his imaginary sword and said, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." LOVE HIM!!

Where have I been??

2008-04-14T10:05:00.001-06:00

I have a lot to say. Check back tomorrow. Seriously.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

2008-03-21T19:38:00.002-06:00

Isn't this a lovely winter wonderland? Right. This picture was taken today from my front door. That's Tony out there shoveling the sidewalk. (He also shoveled the next-door neighbor's sidewalk although they have never, ever done anything like that for us. And they have a damn snow-blower. But, God Forbid they should ever go a centimeter past the lot line when they snowblow.) It's two days before Easter and we just got 7 inches of frickin' snow. What the hell? I think today was the official "First Day of Spring" too. And it's Good Friday. Usually on Good Friday morning, the people of my church do a 'cross-walk'. I mean that literally. We have a huge wooden cross in the church basement and every Good Friday morning the people in my church lug it through the streets of our town like Jesus did when He was going to be crucified. Now, when I say the "people of my church" I mean everyone but me. I have never been to the cross-walk, so I don't really know how it's done. I know that only one person carries the cross, but I don't know if it's the same person the whole time or if lots of people get the chance to take a shift or what. It's probably blasphemous to say this, but I just don't think it would be particularly meaningful to me. Unless we give the person dragging the cross 40 lashes and put a crown of thorns on their head I don't really think we are "reenacting" anything. I mean, the cross used has wheels on it for crying out loud, so you just kind of drag it along behind you like a scooter. Now, I'm not suggesting that we actually flog someone to make this a more meaningful experience. I get it...it's symbolic. However, I am just saying that it has never held any particular appeal for me. I don't think I would get anything out of it spiritually. I think it's swell that some people do.

However, this year my point is neither here nor there because....the cross walk was CANCELLED because of the snow! I bet this is the first time EVER that this event was cancelled. However, this year the cross couldn't be walked because it is a SNOW DAY! I'm telling you, I bet Pontius Pilate would have cancelled the entire crucifixion if he had been faced with this weather. Everyone would have just locked themselves up in their little houses and we would all be Jewish today.

So, I would like to just have it on the record that I hate the fucking snow. I am so tired of snow and slush and salt and snowplows and mittens and scarves that I could just scream. It's almost April and my neighbor has a 6 foot snowman in his front yard. I would like to just go over there and kick it over and then stomp on it and fucking smash all the pieces of coal he and his son used to make the smiley face on it and rip the jolly striped scarf they jauntily tied around it's neck into eight thousand little pieces and then have my dogs pee on it! However, I know this would be inappropriate and not just because this particular neighbor is a pastor.

My point is, if the sun doesn't come out soon I am going to take my friend Jim's suggestion and make a big snow hand in my front yard with the middle finger sticking straight up towards the wretched sky that keeps dumping all this stupid snow on us.

Next time I promise I will write about my fabulous St Patrick's Day party, but I just had to get this off my chest.

Come on, Vogue!

2008-03-14T14:30:00.004-06:00

Look! It's the cover of Madonna's new album. There's only one word for it: CLASSY. Nothing says class like a nice crotch shot.
Now, I like Madonna. I went to her concert last year with my darling friend LL. It was so much fun. I have never seen so many freaks in all of my life (in the audience, I mean). Madonna looked good, put on a stellar show (although I do think it was divine retribution when her microphone went dead when she was singing while being crucified on a mirrored cross. I was not amused by the imagery, especially since she was wearing a crown of thorns at the time...and I bet she was fit to be tied that her mic went out) and made every gay man in Chicago itch to buy one of her commemorative riding crops after she whipped her half-naked gay back-up dancer with one. It was a fun show, but I didn't go to it to be blown away by her extreme talent or anything like that. C'mon, her extreme talent is for marketing herself so that she is still a money-maker 25 years after she warbled "Like a Virgin". All in all, that's a good talent to have when you aren't that great a singer, actress or dancer. Britney Spears should have watched Madonna's career more closely and taken notes, because (except for the mental illness thing) they have a lot in common!!

Strangeways Here We Come

2008-03-04T14:53:00.007-06:00

I very rarely have a night with nothing to do. There's always a class I want to take at the Y, or a church meeting, or a kid to be driven to some miscellaneous class or something. However, a couple of weeks ago I had a Saturday night where I literally had NOTHING to do. So, I thought it would be fun to lounge around and watch a movie with my kids and eat popcorn and Chex Mix. However, the cosmos always seems to find a way to tempt me out of the house when I have a free moment. This particular Saturday night I got a phone call at 5:30 from my friend. Okay, now I have to come up with a pseudonym for my friend because I know she probably doesn't want me to say who she is. Hmmm....let's call her Mandy. (Are you humming the fabulous Barry Manilow song by the same name now? How about now? Now? Did you know that he wrote that about his DOG? That's right. He wouldn't have written it about a girl because he is gay. I don't think he's ever admitted it, but he is. Totally.) Anyway, so Mandy calls me and asks me what I am doing. I told her the truth and she said that she had an extra ticket to this school fundraiser where there are skits and liquor. She had this ticket because her friend, for whom the ticket was intended, was blowing her off to go to her son's Guitar Hero championship round at his school. Sounds like the lamest made-up excuse in the world to me, but my friend Mandy bought it so who was I to say otherwise? In any case, at the time it didn't bother me to be the last minute stand-in who wasn't good enough to be invited in the first place...but now I'm wondering why I WASN'T invited in the first place. What the hell?

So, even though I thought it sounded like kind-of a stupid thing to do...I mean, a school fundraiser with skits? Sounds retarded. BUT, she did mention that there was going to be liquor so I figured I would give it a shot. So, I took a shower and drove over to her house at about 6:15 figuring that I would be home by 9:30 EASILY. Well, I was wrong. This particular fund raiser was at a Catholic high school and I guess it is pretty famous for this event which is called "Street Scenes". I knew it was a bigger deal than I had anticipated when I saw the traffic cops directing cars to auxiliary parking and school buses shuttling people from "remote parking". Apparently, this school has been doing this for 34 years and it is a really, really big deal. The tickets were $25 just to get in and then you had to buy a ticket book for drinks and food. When you walked in you got a booklet which told you about all the "lounges" and the attached room where a show would be staged. For example, there was a classroom/lounge (and don't picture your average classroom here, either. All the desks were cleared out, the walls and ceiling covered with fabric or Mylar or something and there was a stage in every room with a live band while at the back of the room was a bar. Seriously. Nobody parties like the Catholics. They advertised complimentary taxi rides home because they assumed folks were going to get shit faced...which they did. More on that later.) that was called Carmine's Hideaway which featured a martini bar and band called "The Red Eye Express". Once you got in, you were given a ticket to the corresponding skit called "Bada Bing Bada Boom, The Sopranos Graduate" which was in a different room that was all tricked out too. Get this--there was a fucking LINE to get into Carmine's Hideaway. I looked at my friend Mandy and said, "You're kidding me. I'm too old to wait in line to get in a fake bar," so we moved on. The one lounge we did go into was called "The Poorhouse Lounge" and when we walked in the band was getting ready to play another song. A blond chick in her late 20's was holding the microphone and bopping around the stage in white go-go boots, black spandex pants and a back and white striped top that was long-ish and belted...but it was not long-ish enough because her fairly sizable ass was WAY too visible for me. In any case, I figured she had to be the band's singer in a get-up like that so I prepared myself to see what she could do. The band started to play "Dancing In The Streets" and she drunkenly sang/yelled the words, "DANCIN' IN THE STREETS..." upwards of 200 times. I don't think she knew any other words, although I do think she tried to sing some of them at one point. When the song was over she handed the microphone over to the actual singer for the band and returned to her group of equally dismally dressed drunken friends. Seriously, I think this was the pinnacle of her singing career. I can't believe the band let her get up and sing...I hope someone got laid out of it.
Anyway, I kid you not when I say there were about 15 or so different "lounges" with various rooms attached where parents and alumni put on skits. We wandered into the Margarita Lounge and listened to some Jimmy Buffet wannabe band. We went into the Irish Pub and heard some "Danny Boy" (not really, but they were playing Irish music) and we hit the Mardi Gras, which was the entire cafeteria with a whole bunch of tables, a bar as long as the entire back wall and a huge stage with a 8-10 piece band. It was here that I heard the funniest and saddest conversation of the night. Mandy went off to the bar to talk to someone she knew and I declined to join her because I loathe small talk with people I am never going to see again (unless it's a bartender or someone at a concert). So I sat down at a big table all by myself and pretended to listen to the band while I was actually waiting to overhear something really good. Well, I didn't have long to wait. This really skinny drunk blond girl came stumbling over with a not-so-drunk guy. He disgustedly plopped her down on a chair and she was whining about how he didn't love her and he was mad at her because she was drunk. He was obviously disgusted but he just said something like, "Don't worry about it. It's okay," and all those other things you say to emotional drunk people. Then she really pushed his buttons and said, "I bet you don't treat your wife like this when she's drunk," and he said, "Shut up!" At this point he sort-of nodded to this other guy who was loitering around us and said something like, "Hey, Paulie. Get this bitch a cab and make sure she gets home. "
Okay, the other guy's name wasn't really Paulie. I put that in for dramatic effect. However he did tell this guy to put the "bitch" in a cab etc. In the meantime, the "bitch" said something that really told me a lot about the whole situation...she said, "What are you going to do, go back upstairs to your wife?"
Now, when she said "upstairs" she literally meant upstairs from where we were sitting because all the "lounges" were on the second floor of the school. I almost died laughing. That guy got so red in the face with anger I almost thought he was going to hit her. It made me wonder what transpired before this little conversation. I imagine this guy and his wife were hanging out in Carmine's Hideaway having a couple of cocktails and in staggers the drunk mistress. Before the wife figured out anything, the guy grabbed his friend Paulie and maneuvered the drunk mistress out into the hall where she proceeded to tell the guy she loved him and she just had to come and see him and how she didn't care about his wife being there, blah, blah, blah.
All this drama at a high school fund raiser!!
At one point Mandy and I were at a table right in the middle of the main thoroughfare and I saw more drunken people lookin' to get laid than I have since college. I'm telling you, there were hundreds and hundred of people there. I bet they raised $250,000 just that night alone. (Did I tell you that they do this for two nights in a row?)
The big question is....how did they clean all the puke out of the bathrooms in time for the second night?

You've Got Everything Now

2008-02-28T21:01:00.006-06:00

Look at my new Playlist thingy! Now you can hear all the fabulous songs by Morrissey and others that I love, love, love!! I can't figure out how to make it so that you can scroll down and see other songs on the playlist, but if you click on a song title at the bottom of the list it will appear at the top and more songs will appear. If anyone can figure out how to make the thing scroll, let me know. I am guessing it is just a poor design, but it could be that I am an idiot and just can't figure it out. (It's probably the second option...I mean, look at how long it took me to figure out how to put pictures on my blog.)
Speaking of pictures, did you see that I put a picture of myself on here too?? I am inordinately impressed with myself. Brenna took that picture with her digital camera and I figured out how to make it show up on my blog! So, guess what? I WANT A DIGITAL CAMERA! Wait until Tony reads that. He is going to fucking kill me because he bought me a fabulous digital camera for Christmas 2006 and I said, "I'll never figure this stupid thing out. Send it back to Amazon and get me a REGULAR camera." I bet he wishes he still had that expensive digital camera right now so he could shove it right up my ass.
So, back to the playlist...I think I will suggest a song to listen to at the beginning of every blog entry so that you, my precious reader, can have a soundtrack to go along with whatever I am writing about. I realize that it sounds like I am being incredibly anal, but I prefer to see my intentions as purely altruistic...I don't want you to miss out on any one of my carefully chosen songs. I must also add that I included a couple of songs for my friend Jim. (4 songs, actually) I hope that he can figure out which ones they are. I would have included some Rick Springfield for my anonymous friend (Vicki), but I didn't want to take the chance that someone might actually think that I LIKED Rick Springfield...because he sucks.
Now, those of you who are clever can listen to some of the songs that you now realize I titled my blog posts with. (Yikes! I ended that sentence with a preposition! That is an impertinence up with which I will not put!) Let me re-phrase; Some of the song titles that I used to name various posts are on my playlist for your listening pleasure. (Whew! Much better.)
So, prepare yourself for a lot more photos of my actual reality and not just appropriate pictures I stole off someone else's website.

My Hero

2008-02-27T09:33:00.004-06:00

I went to see the Foo Fighters on Monday night. To say that the show rocked would be an understatement. Dave Grohl spent so much time whipping his hair around I was amazed that he didn't fall off the stage. He also says "fucking" a lot. I didn't know you could effectively use the word "fucking" in a sentence 5 times, but he did. Makes him sound like a fucking rock star, I guess. Or, as I am sure Dave would correct me, a fucking GRAMMY WINNING rock star.
I loved the show. It was a riot. I will tell more later, but I did want to give a quick shout out to my husband who bought me a fabulous Foo Fighters hoodie at the concert. It was the coolest thing at the rock 'n roll show souvenir stand and I got one!! Tony is THE BOMB.

Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others

2008-02-05T18:22:00.000-06:00

Well, I voted today. I went over to our polling place (which is the Catholic nursing home) parked in the employee lot, went in the employee entrance and through the employee breakroom and made my way to the polling place. The reason I parked in the employee lot is because there wasn't any parking in the front of the building because of all the voters, so I went to the back of the building and found the employee lot half empty so I parked there. Since it is sleeting/snowing I opted to go in the employee entrance as well. I brought Brenna with me to vote because I think it is important that she sees how serious a responsibility it is to vote...but she was very tense about going in the employee entrance (which was clearly marked with an "Employees Only" sign). She was afraid we were going to "get in trouble". I asked her, "What are they going to do to us? Arrest us?" and she said, "Well, what if they don't let you vote?" I told her not to worry so much and just confidently walk in like she belonged there.

Considering the nursing home is entirely staffed by Filapino nuns in full habit, the odds of us blending in were pretty slim but Brenna didn't know that. Either way, I wasn't going to walk all the way around the building in the freezing cold when there was a perfectly servicable door right in front of me. Luckily the breakroom was empty so we didn't have to answer any questions

We made our way down to the polling place and I decided to try the electronic voting booth for the first time, even though Tony told me he doesn't trust them. Well, I got my little charged up electronic voting card and proceeded to stick it in the machine and the screen went totally blank. Great. So, I called over the Election Judge and he asked me if I stuck it in all the way, and did I do it like the picture showed, etc. etc. I tried really hard not to be offended but I was pretty annoyed when he asked me if I was sure I stuck it in according to the picture. I just looked at him for a couple of seconds and then I said, "Just as sure as I was when you asked me the first time." He paused and then said, "I'll be right back."

When he came back he had the "Head" Election Judge who just pulled the stupid card out of the machine, hit a re-set button and then told me to put my card in again. At this point I was ready to insist on a paper ballot because I figured my vote was screwed as far as the electronic thing goes. But then I remembered that I live in Chicago and all the elections here are corrupt anyway so I might as well see this electronic thing out. (Voter's motto in Chicago...Vote Early and Vote Often. Dead people have been known to vote in Chicago.)

So, I proceeded to vote very gravely and seriously. Once I voted for the Presidential candidate of my choice and the State Rep and all the people I actually had opinions on I moved on to the Circuit Court judges and Water Reclaimation people, etc. etc. I didn't want Brenna to realize that I had no idea who I was voting for, so I carefully read the names and chose. I voted mostly for women, unless they had a stupid nickname in quotes (like Susan "Suzi" Bassi. That's just stupid. I can't respect someone who puts a stupid nickname on a ballot.) or if they put in their middle initial. I mean, why not just use your middle name? Too shifty for me. I can't trust someone who won't tell me their middle name.When Brenna asked me why I voted for one candidate over another I would just say, "Because she's a woman," or "Because he's Irish," or whatever. Then when she asked, "Ok...but who are they?" I would answer, "He's that Irish guy, for crying out loud," or "She's that woman," and then I would roll my eyes. Serves her right...she rolls her damn eyes at me all the time.

In any case, I finished voting and we got our "I VOTED" stickers and we left through the employee door again. Brenna was less nervous this time, but she did tell me to hurry.
I hope everyone I know voted today. I know most of the people in my office did. There was a whole group of us standing around today talking about voting and this woman from the office next to ours (who happens to be a very pretty, but slightly masculine, tall Hispanic woman) said she was going to vote for Hillary. I did a double-take and said, "WHAT? Why?" And she told me (in all seriousness--and keep in mind that I think this woman is generally very intellegent), "Because she's a woman." I blinked really, really hard and said, "You're kidding, right?" and this woman says, "No. I'm voting for her because she's a woman...even if she does have thick ankles." Okay, that was the LAST thing I expected to hear from this gorgeous, bright, might-be-a-lesbian, Hispanic woman, so I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's the most compelling reason to vote for anyone. But if I follow your reasoning, I would think you would be more inclined to vote for Obama. After all, he's a minority...you're a minority..." and she butted in with, "Not any more we're not!"
Hmmm....
Anyway, it led into a whole discussion about how Hillary should always wear pantsuits because her ankles are so fat, and how the proper term for her ankles is really "cankles" (a cross between calves and ankles) and her horrible hairstyle, etc. etc. Yep. No politics for me, thank you. Let's just rip on her appearance. I mentioned that Tony had worked for the Clinton administration and had actually met Hillary and he wasn't overly fond of her, thinking that might turn the conversation back to politics, but NOOOO. What everyone wanted to know was...Is Hillary as fat in person as she looks on T.V?
So, I decided that if I couldn't beat them, I would join them. I said, "Well how about John McCain? I can hardly stand to look at him with that big lump on the side of his face. It looks like a tumor." You know what the response was??? Everyone started talking about his stance on abortion! That's right. Political talk for the male candidate and "cankle" chat for the woman. What the hell? The thing that really pissed me off was that I was standing around with a bunch of self-proclaimed Democrats who had nothing more to say about their chosen candidate than that she looked like shit in a skirt but could actually tell me McCain's views on abortion rights! No wonder women have such crappy body images.

Now, I agree that Hillary Clinton is an unattractive woman who is cursed with tree-trunk legs; but I can say that because I didn't vote for the bitch.

Such a Little Thing Makes Such a Big Difference

2008-01-23T21:09:00.000-06:00

Okay, my New Year's resolution was not to get so worked up about stupid shit. I am not going to get pissed off every time my husband changes the toilet paper roll and has end of the roll coming from underneath instead of up and over. I am going to rejoice in the fact that he actually CHANGED the damn roll in the first place instead of leaving one lone square of toilet paper on the roll. He does that so that when I come out of the bathroom fuming and ask him, "Why didn't you change the roll of toilet paper?" he can say, "Because there was still some left." Honest to God...one fucking square of toilet paper on the roll and he honestly thinks that is enough to warrant keeping it on the spindle. Like the next person is going to look at the one square left and say to him/herself, "Perfect! I only needed one square anyway for my teeny-tiny little bottom!" That reminds of the time my father decided that EVERYONE in the house used altogether too much toilet paper. So, he took the toilet paper out of all the bathrooms and held it all hostage. Whenever my brother, sister or I had to go to the bathroom we would have to go and ask our dad for toilet paper. He would assess our needs and dole out 5 squares of toilet paper for Number One and 10 for Number Two. I'm SOOOO not kidding. Even my mom had to ask him for toilet paper. Before he went to work he would give us about 15 squares to use while he was at work. I remember my mom screaming at him one morning that she wasn't going to ask him for toilet paper any more and who did he think he was, etc. etc. My father calmly handed her the allotted 15 sheets and left for work. After he left my mom drove me to Jewel and bought 4 rolls of Charmin, shaking her head and repeating all the way, "I can't believe I have to sneak toilet paper in my own house! 5 sheets! That stupid son of a....(unintelligible muttering)" When we got home from the store she handed me a roll and told me to hide it so that my father still thought he was getting his way. This began a lifetime of hiding things from my father...the $100 velvet jacket my mom bought me for the homecoming dance that she kept in the trunk of the car until 10 minutes before I left for the dance...the box of Frango mints she didn't want my dad to dole out to us one every other day so that they would "last longer"...the Steve Martin comedy album my sister gave me that I knew contained a lot of swearing so my dad would never let me keep it. My dad was a little tightly strung, to say the least. So, at least I come by my "getting worked up about stupid shit" thing biologically.
Anyway, I am trying to get up in the morning and say "Good Morning" to Tony before I ask him where my coffee is. I am trying NOT to make Bronte erase her homework and write it more neatly. I am trying to look past the fact that Brenna wears ankle socks and Crocs to school when it is 4 degrees above zero and there are 3 inches of snow on the ground.
This resolution got a workout the other night when my parents came over for dinner. My mom always wants to help when she comes over and so she will ask if she can peel potatoes or toss the salad or start a load of laundry or something. The only problem is...my mom is..well, I don't even know how to say this without sounding completely bitchy. Let's put it this way...when I peel potatoes, I have the water running a little and I put the little screen thing over the disposal and all the peels end up falling neatly in the sink where they can be easily gathered at the end of my peeling-time and thrown in the garbage. The few stragglers get washed down into the disposal where they are safely ground up and washed away. All the naked potatoes are placed in a pot the moment they are done being peeled so that they can be neatly dealt with when the time comes. My mother, on the other hand, peels the potatoes while she is talking, and she is hard of hearing so she will have to turn to whomever she is speaking with and watch their lips. At this point all the potato peelings are falling on the counter and on the floor. My mom then turns back to the sink and turns on the disposal without the benefit of running water and shoves the peels down the disposal with her hand WHILE IT IS RUNNING. Then she turns off the disposal, half-assedly rinses the potato and places it in the dish drainer with all the clean dishes. Then she goes over to the kitchen table to get another potato, trodding all over the peelings that have fallen to the floor with a blithe, "Oh! I'll get those later!"
So, yes I am a little anal about some things...but my mother isn't nearly anal enough. Needless to say, her offer to help usually gives my apoplexy because I know if I don't GIVE her a task she will just go and FIND a task. That scares me.
But, because of my resolution I decided to smile and nod and be appreciative when she helped me get dinner ready. I also had a glass of wine, but that is beside the point. So, guess what? When I stopped being so damn picky and watching her every move I found that she really was helpful. Also, she was a lot neater because I wasn't telling her how to do everything MY WAY so she was much more relaxed. Okay; lesson learned--Mom is a lot more helpful and productive when I am not being such a freaky bitch. Got it.
So at dinner we were all talking and enjoying ourselves when my dad picked up his glass of milk and asked, "Is this mine?" I said yes, it was his milk. He then said, "So...I can just...um...." and then he poured half of it out all over the table. I immediately stood up and said, "DAD! What are you doing?!!?" Well, that scared and confused him so he stopped pouring his milk out for a split second, but then he just turned the glass completely over so there was milk everywhere. After that he just looked at me and sadly said, "Gee. I'm sorry." In the meantime the dogs are under the table licking milk off the floor because it leaked through the cracks where the leaf of the table is. The cat was trying to get in on the milk action, but the dogs were being really selfish so she swatted Snoopy on the nose and he ran away. Then the stupid cat started to lap up the milk. Normally I would have gotten "the tense face" and quietly gone to get paper towels and wiped it up in total silence so everyone could see how pissed off I was. But, I looked at my poor Alzheimer's stricken dad who knew he had fucked up but wasn't really sure why or how. Then I looked at my mom. She had "the tense face" and she was crying and trying to use her napkin to sop up the milk. I took a breath and smiled and said, "C'mon! No use crying over spilt milk! No harm done. Look, it's all on the table, not on the food. I'll go get a towel." While I cleaned up the milk I told my dad to look at how happy the dogs were to get some milk for dinner! I also laughed with the girls and reminded them of times we had all spilled something. And you know what? It really wasn't a big deal. We moved on. My dad said he was sorry a couple more times and then (I daresay) he forgot all about it. My mom lost "the tense face" (which I'm sure was more due to the fact that she thought it would ruin MY night than anything else...a revelation that just makes me feel so stupid and petty) and stopped crying. We finished dinner and had coffee and dessert and it was fantastic.
I can't say that I have kept this resolution 100%. I can't even say that I have kept it 50%. I am SO glad that I kept it that night, though.
In other news...how is it possible that Tom Cruise just keeps getting uglier?

You're The One For Me, Fatty

2008-01-13T19:18:00.000-06:00

Well, you know it was only a matter of time before I wrote something about Johnny Depp. Not only is he a wonderful actor (people forget that sometimes because of the whole "Pirates of the Carribbean" thing, but he really is. Just watch "Gilbert Grape" again, or "Edward Scissorhands" or even "Chocolat"--which, incidentally isn't my favorite Johnny Depp movie, even though he looks lickable in it, because I generally loathe love stories; especially trite ones. However, he did act in that movie...and not like a cartoon character either) but he is also pretty to look at. I admit that I don't have the poster of him on my bathroom door because he is such a fabulous actor, but at least I feel slightly justified in my admiration which is (as I stated before) not based solely on the fact that he looks fabulous from any angle.
Also, he is the first person I have had a poster of that didn't turn out to be gay. Seriously. When I was 9 years old, I loved Elton John. Gay. Then there was George Michael. Gay. Morrissey. Gay (although he hasn't come right out and said it, he is).
I have wasted lots of time having crushes on gay singers.
Now, how could I ever have NOT realized that Elton John was gay? I mean, really?? Who dresses like that...even in the 70's? For crying out loud, the first time I ever saw him was on the CHER show. C'mon...CHER!However, I was nine years old...give me a break. That was the same year that the song "Afternoon Delight" came out and I walked around singing it all the time because I thought it was about candy. You know, like Turkish Delight. I was always slow to pick up on stuff like that. I thought the Village People were just a group of guys who liked to sing about their favorite place to swim. So, when Elton John "came out" as a bisexual in 1976 I was totally devastated. Now I was going to have to compete against women AND MEN for his affections! Honestly, though, it just never occurred to me.

George Michael...well, the fact that I couldn't tell he was gay is just embarrassing. (See below.)

In any case, that brings me back to Johnny Depp. I adore Johnny Depp. I have posters of him in my house. My friends give me grief about it, but I would rather look at a fine photo of Johnny Depp than some bullshit art print that matches my decor. I love art...was an art history major as a matter of fact and know lots and lots about art. I would like to be a guard at the Art Institute for a month just so I could get there before the public and actually touch a Rodin...or feel the brushstrokes on the canvas of Monet's Haystacks. However, I don't want a stupid reprint of a great work of art, nor do I want sub-standard art on my walls. So, why not Johnny Depp posters? I don't have any unrealistic ideas about meeting him and having him fall in love with me or anything. I'm not 10. I just like to look at him.

The other day I was on a field trip with Brenna's school choir. As part of a choral exchange they were rehearsing a song to sing at a concert with one of the local high school choirs. The song? "Joy to the World". You know, the Three Dog Night version. It goes:

Jeremiah was a bullfrog Was a good friend of mine I never understood a single word he said But I helped him drink his wine And he always had some mighty fine wine Singin'... Joy to the world All the boys and girls now Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea Joy to you and me If I were the king of the world Tell you what I'd do I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the war And I'd make sweet love to you Sing it now...

Well, the kids weren't supposed to sing it that way!! Instead of drinkin' mighty fine wine they sang that he always treated me fine. Also, nobody was makin' sweet love to you they were spendin' time with you. Okay, now think about it...how does it make sense to spend time with a stupid bullfrog unless you're drunk? And, if you throw away the cars and the bars (meaning you can't get drunk anymore) and the war, what the hell are you going to do? If I can't go anywhere and I can't drink...then I'd better at least be having sex. Just spendin' time together isn't going to cut it. So, the school took the sex and the alcohol out of that song and made what was already a retarded song even more retarded. So, I was talking to the other chaperones about how stupid it was...especially taking out the wine reference. Who cares? That's when I brought up the fact that when I was little and sang "Afternoon Delight" I had no clue what I was even saying. I mean, I just thought it was a cool song. By changing the words to this song, did the school administration really think they were going to keep kids from drinking and having sex? Give me a break. Point being, I didn't have sex at lunchtime in 4th grade because I sang "Afternoon Delight". Then we all started talking about how the whole idea of having some actual "Afternoon Delight" didn't even sound good because we had so many other things to do while the kids were at school! Why waste 30 minutes on that? Besides, then you'd have to take a shower afterwards and the next thing you know the kids are getting off the bus and the laundry STILL isn't done. SO, one of the other chaperones said, "Well, if Johnny Depp came to your door and wanted a little "Afternoon Delight" I bet you would take him up on it, Carolyn."

Well, I started to really think about that and here is my conclusion. First of all, what the hell would Johnny Depp be doing at my door on a weekday afternoon? Only Anne Heche shows up unannounced (remember the "I'm from another planet" episode?) and I wouldn't let her in. Secondly, if he did show up, what are the odds it would be because he wanted to get naked with me. It's not like he couldn't do better. Thirdly, I just am not into meaningless sex at my age. Sure, he's fun to look at...but what are we going to talk about afterwards? He would be rolling himself a cigarette and I would be trying to cover up my thighs. Unless he was doing research for a role about a middle aged suburbanite, I am thinking that we wouldn't have a whole lot to say.

Me: So, Johnny...how's France?

Johnny: Great! Next time you are there, you and the girls will have to stop by and meet Vanessa and the kids.

Me: Perfect. So...want to hear about my stupid-ass job in Financial Aid? It's fascinating!

Seriously. Even if Johnny Depp did decide that he absolutely had to have sex with me, I couldn't do it. What would be the point? Don't get me wrong...I would love to have Johnny Depp show up at my door. BUT, I hope he brings his checkbook and Ty Pennington...then he can do something that would really turn me on; remodel my kitchen.

Hairdresser on Fire

2008-01-04T21:29:00.000-06:00

Looky! Looky! It's a new year--2008. so, you know what that means? It means that, until about mid-April, I will put "2007" on each and every check I write and I will have to swear, cross it out and correct it and then write my initials above it to show that I corrected my error. Oh well, at least I'm not as confused as my mother...she decided to start writing a journal yesterday and she dated her first entry Sept. 3, 2006. I happened to see it when she and my father came to my house for dinner last night. She brought it with for "safe-keeping". Ok. Whatever. She left all her jewelry on top of her dresser, but brought her brand new journal with one lone entry in it. The entry started, "I have decided to start keeping a journal. I wanted to start it 2 days ago, but I am starting it today." I can see why she wanted to keep it out of the wrong hands.
Anyway, despite the fact that it is a new year, I am going back to 2007 for a moment. You see, my daughter, Brenna got an amazing opportunity this Christmas season. She and about 20 other girls from her fabulous choir got to go to the Auditorium Theater in Chicago and sing for the Joffrey Ballet's Nutcracker. They sang in the lobby before the show, in the orchestra pit for the Snow Queen's dance in the first act, and then in the lobby at intermission. They did this for one Friday night show and two on Saturday. I volunteered to chaperone, so I got to witness all this as well. On the Friday afternoon before Christmas we boarded a bus to the theater. I stood outside the bus while the kids got on so I could take attendance. When I finally boarded I took one look at the bus driver and thought, "Holy crap! He looks just like Nacho Libre!" Honestly. He didn't have on a cape and turquoise tights though. But, if he had looked at me and said, "Psst. Hey, don't tell anyone, but I'm really Jack Black," I wouldn't have been a bit surprised. I sat down in the seat behind Brenna and her friend and I said, "Hey Brenna. Look at the bus driver. Do you think he wears stretchy pants? In his room? It's for fun." (That's a line from the movie, by the way. I'm not some kind of freak.)
So, after two freakin' hours of rush hour traffic we finally made it to the Auditorium. (Incidentally, it only took about 45 minutes to get home. Stupid rush hour. Yet, that extra time in the bus was not wasted! We all ate Subway sandwiches and the girls rehearsed. I got car-sick and spent the last 30 minutes of the bus ride trying not to puke.) We had to go to the "Performer's Entrance" which was located in a dark alley that smelled like urine. Ahh!! The glamour of theater life! When we finally made it inside the building we had to wait for the official Joffrey choir handler to come and collect us, so we stood there watching all the dancers come in. They all dressed outlandishly and they were all really, really skinny. I am telling you, if one of the girls in the choir doesn't develop an eating disorder after looking at all those gorgeous skinny dancers, I will be surprised.
So, finally the handler came to take us to our "dressing room". Now, the Auditorium is a huge, old theater. We were led up stairs, down stairs, past crates of costumes and under the stage past hot water pipes. I didn't think we were ever going to get there. At one point I thought of the movie "This is Spinal Tap" when the band gets lost backstage on their way from the dressing room to the stage. So, I pretended to have drumsticks and beat on the pipe and yelled, "Rock and Roll!!" Well, none of the other chaperones had seen "This is Spinal Tap" so they looked at me like, "What the hell is wrong with you?" I started to laugh and so did this guy who was behind us. He was a cute, little, VERY gay dancer and he looked at me and said, "OH! MY! GOD! I loooove that movie! Did you see "Best in Show"? That was soooo funny too! How about "Waiting for Guffman"? That one wasn't my favorite, but I loooove Spinal Tap. Ha! Ha! This one goes to eleven!" The whole time he was saying this he was touching me...on the arm, on the hand, on the other arm. He reminded me of the cutest gay hairdresser I had in Arizona who used to change my hair color every time Linda Evangelista changed hers. I had about 6 different hair colors one year. Anyway, he walked away giggling. Brenna looked at me and said, "Mom, were you getting a gay-vibe from him?" Ha! I did see him again backstage while the girls were taking their curtain call. He was the fucking NUTCRACKER! How funny is that? He looked at me and whispered, "Rock and Roll!!"
.

That Friday night I got to sit in the orchestra pit with the girls. That was so incredible. As a musician I played for a few shows (local productions, obviously) so this was an awesome experience. The conductor was amazing in the way he interacted with all the musicians and the way he knew the score so intimately. Wow. I was under the stage so I couldn't see a thing, but the girls could see and just watching them staring at the ballet and the looks on their faces as they enjoyed the Nutcracker from such a privileged spot made me so happy.
By the way, I actually saw Morrissey at this theater. We had the shittiest seats ever. I was telling the girls where we sat and from the orchestra pit we had to squint to see them. I am telling you, they were in the very tippy top of the theater in the section called "Gall" on the seating chart. When I was pointing them out to Brenna and her friend, the theater chick who led us down to the orchestra pit heard me and said, "You sat up there?!? Man, those seats are dangerous. It's so steep. We don't even open those seats up, except every once in a while for a rock concert..." Then she looked at me like "what were you doing up there?" since I obviously had no business going to a rock concert at my age. I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but I was at the ballet and was feeling much too classy to swear. So I gave her a look that implied that I wanted her to fuck off. Much classier.
In any case, the whole experience was very cool. On Saturday we all went to the Hard Rock Cafe to eat between performances. Plus, we got to watch an actual Joffrey ballet class. What those anorexic bodies can do!! It's shocking! the funniest part was seeing how the girls reacted to the costumes on the male dancers. I mean, they might as well have danced naked...and the choir got to see them all really, really close up. They talked about it on the bus all the way home. It was hilarious. "Oh my gosh! Why couldn't they, you know, hide, ummm...you know, IT, a little better?" Giggle, giggle.
As an interesting little aside, the Joffrey debuted their Nutcracker 20 years ago at Hancher Auditorium at the University of Iowa. I was there. That's where I went to to college and I made sure I got a ticket. Granted, it was in the very last row, but I was there! I know I made some boy buy the tickets. I can't remember who, but I hope I kissed him goodnight.

The Harsh Truth of the Camera Eye

2007-12-31T10:18:00.000-06:00

I think that Mike Huckabee is a whack-job. However, when they make a movie about his life, I think Kevin Spacey should play him.
Honestly, I don't have as much to say about politics as my darling husband does, but here is what I think about Huckabee.
1) He thinks God is swaying the voters to put him in office. That's just crazy. Everyone knows that God is too busy backing Obama.
2) He thinks homosexuality is an abomination. Okay...that just means that we're going to find him soliciting gay sex in an airport bathroom in a few years.
3) His last name makes me laugh. Huckabee. C'mon. President Huckabee?

Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together

2007-12-19T11:49:00.000-06:00

When I was a little girl, at the beginning of the Christmas season I would always ask my mother, "Aren't you excited about Christmas?" and she would always answer, "Honey, Christmas is for children." I vowed right then and there not to become a boring old grown-up who couldn't enjoy Christmas. Well, that just went right out the window this Christmas, or as my dear friend N calls it, "Stress-mas".

This particular day was, without a doubt, the zenith of stressful days...(keep in mind that this happened about a week before Christmas)

First thing in the morning Tony and I were fighting because he can't manage to put the cork-screw away after he opens a bottle of wine. Seriously. I mean, I can (sort-of) tolerate it when he doesn't put his dirty clothes in the hamper, or when he leaves the garage door open or doesn't hang up his coat...but when he does all of those things AND leaves the stupid fucking cork-screw on the counter right above the drawer where it actually belongs...well, that just made me want to take out his eyeball with the thing. And this fight wasn't even just a snide little comment on my part which would have been completely ignored by my husband, it was full-on yelling and dredging up past slights (by both of us, I might add lest I sound like some sort-of cork-screw wielding bitchy shrew). Thankfully the kids were at school so they didn't witness the insanity.

Then I went to my stupid-ass job, where everything went okay until 15 minutes before I left and the one person I work with that I do not like was really, really rude to me. I made a useless but pointed remark to her about it, but then I had to leave. Needless to say I thought of all sorts of wonderful come-backs in the car on my way to pick up Brenna from school, which just made me re-live the moment and made me madder.

So, in the car pick-up line at school I pulled out the newspaper and started to read it thinking that would calm me down. But NO!! The line moved forward and I didn't notice because I was reading my paper, so the bitch in the white family-van behind me honked and waved her arms in the air and the ugly bitch in the even uglier family van behind her whipped out of line and went around me--and when she got next to my Durango she stared at me and mouthed some choice words while she pulled in front of me. What the fuck? Who gives a shit if we move up a car-length or not? Besides, the idiot in the van behind me could see I was reading the paper, what was she so pissed off for? She could have just tapped the horn to get my attention and smiled at me when I looked at her in my rear-view mirror and I would have gladly moved up. Stupid bitch. I saw which kid got in her van when school let out and believe me, the extra car-lengths worth of steps he took didn't hurt his fat-ass any. From the looks of him, he should've been walking home just to get the exercise. I just wanted to gun my SUV into the back of the ugly mom's van in front of me and then throw it in reverse and smash the idiot behind me too. I tried to console myself with the fact that I probably weigh 50 pounds less than either of them, but since they were both still giving me dirty looks it wasn't easy.

Okay...on with the mardi-gras that was my day. I called Tony to find out if he had called his mother to find out what she wanted for Christmas and he informed me that she had slipped on the ice the night before and her neighbor took her to the hospital and now she was laid up with staples in her head and a concussion. Yikes! (On the funny side, Tony did suggest that maybe we should get her a helmet for Christmas.) So I told Tony to go straight to her house after work and take her some dinner. I would take Brenna to dance, then Bronte and I would pick her up and we would go to The Fortune Kookie for pot-stickers (just us girls!) and then we would drive to church so Brenna could rehearse with the adult choir because she was singing in a trio for part of the Christmas Cantata that Sunday. Whew!

Jump forward to The Fortune Kookie. The girls and I had just ordered when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it said it was my mother's house. Seeing as she lives with my Alzheimer's ridden father who doesn't hold conversations anymore (sadly) I figured she just called to chat. She calls me upwards of 5 times a day sometimes. Sometimes she calls to tell me what is on TV. For example...in the month of December right up until Christmas Eve I got a phone call every night from my 77 year old mother. The phone would ring at 6:55 p.m. every night and she would say, "Charlie Brown Christmas is on channel 2 in 5 minutes. I just thought the girls would like to watch. OK. Bye!" Granted, it wasn't a Charlie Brown Christmas every night. Sometimes it was Frosty the Snowman or Christmas With The Kranks, but I'll be darned if there wasn't a Christmas special on every single night From December 1st to the 23rd. When I was a kid all we got was Charlie Brown, Frosty and The Grinch (the good one, not the one with Jim Carrey...that one was just stupid) and the Santa driving away on the Norelco electric razor. Honestly, that was genius advertising. It made me, an 8 year old girl, put a Norelco electric razor on my Christmas list. My parents must have been worried...
Anyway...so my cell phone rang and I saw it was my mother so I answered, "Hi Mom! What's up?" There was a long-ish pause and then some accented male voice asks, "Do you know (insert my parents full names here)?" Immediately I think that they are being held captive by some crazy, high drug dealers. You may laugh, but you do not know what kind of trouble my stupid sister has been in....
On with the saga; I asked the drug dealer who he was and what he wanted. The voice said (and I shit you not...this was the exact wording) "I'm a policeman. Your mother choked and she was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Your father is here alone; how soon can you get here?" Okay. Let's break this down...
1) My mother choked. She might be dead.
2) My father is alone. He doesn't know who anyone is anymore. The last time he was alone for a brief moment, he went out in 3 feet of snow in a robe and slippers looking for his mother.
3) Wait! My father is NOT alone. He is with some strange policeman in my parents house. The policeman has a gun.
4) I have no proof that the disembodied voice on the other end of the phone is an actual policeman so....
5) Yep. I'm back to the "my parents are being held hostage by a drug dealer" scenario again.

I responded by doing what anyone in this situation would do. I started to cry. Immediately my kids were under the table (we were in a booth..they were on one side and I was on the other) and on either side of me saying, "It's okay, mama. It's going to be okay." God in Heaven, I love those kids. In any case, it still didn't change the fact that I was in a restaurant miles away from my parents house and my husband was on his way to HIS mothers house because she had a concussion! What to do?
I asked the "policeman" to tell me what had happened and he haltingly told me that my mother was choking and the neighbor called 911. I asked him where that neighbor was and he told me that he was right there with my dad so I asked if I could talk to him. Well, he put my mom's neighbor on the phone and I recognized the voice so I felt somewhat better. Turned out my mom was alive but had a blockage in her throat so the paramedics took her to the hospital. Blah, blah blah...and then the cop was back on the phone asking me my full name, address, date of birth, etc. I started getting suspicious again because my stupid sister had stolen my identity once and...well, long story. I decided to just tell the cop my name and tell him I would call him right back when I figured out what to do. At that point our pot-stickers came and I told the kids to go ahead and eat while I made a couple of phone calls. They were crying too now, but I said everything was okay even though I was totally freaking out.
In a nutshell, this is what happened. I called Tony and he said he would drop the food off to his mom (who lives minutes away from my parents house) and get his mom's neighbor to come and sit with her. He would then go to my parents house and get rid of the stinking copper. (He didn't say it like that, but it would have been funny if he did. Not at the time, mind you...but later when re-telling the story.) Then we would figure out what was up with my mom and stuff. Whew! Thank God for Tony. He may be a total slob, but he is a wonderful caring man who would do anything for family. I chose wisely. (The next day my dear friend P told me he would have gone to be with my dad too and so would his sister. He said to call him anytime my parents needed anything. I chose my friends wisely, too.)
In the meantime, I called the cop back and told him my husband was on his way. During this conversation, the rest of our food came. I hadn't eaten even a bite of a pot sticker because I was so upset and now I was looking at almond chicken I couldn't eat either because I still didn't know where my mother was and what state she was in. While I was talking to the fuzz, my call waiting beeped. I clicked over and it was my mom! Yippee! she was fine, but she was at the hospital with no coat, no shoes and no way home. Plus she was at a hospital another 20 minutes past their house from where I was. Okay...what to do, what to do? I told her to call me back in 5 minutes because I needed to call Tony and see what to do. I knew Tony couldn't go get my mom because then he would have to take my dad and Tony drives a 2 seat Honda Del Sol, AKA, the Albatross. So, I called Tony and he said he was with my dad and the cop was still there and everything was fine. Hang on!! Call waiting!!! It was my mom who told me that her nurse said she would warm up some blankets and wrap my mom up and drive her home herself. So I clicked back to Tony and said that my mom would be home with the nurse within an hour. When I hung up, the food was all boxed up and I had spent no "girl time" with my kids. The waiter put the bill down with 3 fortune cookies on top of it. I gamely smiled and said, "Okay girls! Let's see what our fortunes are! If you don't mind, I am going to pick my cookie first because I haven't eaten anything yet." The girls smiled and nodded and asked if everything was okay with Gramma and Grampa. I told them that it was all worked out and not to worry...I just wanted to have them open their fortune cookies and try to salvage some fun out of this shitty night. So, we all opened our cookies and proceeded to pull out the paper fortunes. Except that my fucking cookie was empty!!! Seriously. I looked up and the girls looked at me like, "Is she going to cry again? What do we do?!!?!? We are children!"
Well, I just laughed. I laughed and laughed and the girls laughed and laughed. Bronte wanted to get me a different cookie but I really thought that one was perfect. Brenna started to make up fortunes for me, like..."Confucius say...you get no fortune!" and "Confucius say...empty cookie better than cookie with bug!"
It was a bad day...but it's over now!

What She Said

2007-12-12T11:36:00.000-06:00

Sometimes the things my kids do just warms my heart and make me so proud. Sometimes, not so much...
On alternating Fridays my daughter Brenna has a group of friends that come over and hang out and eat dinner and then I take them all to a Bible Study I lead for 7th and 8th grade girls. Bronte usually has a friend come over too, but sometimes she doesn't. Last Friday was one of those evenings when she didn't. Brenna's friend, J, was the first one on the scene. J is always really sweet to Bronte and includes her in things when she is over. So, J and Brenna and Bronte are all sitting on the couch in the living room playing together. (When I say they were playing, what I really mean is that they were trying to figure out how to put together a Bratz doll. Have you ever seen those things? They are the sluttiest dolls I have ever seen, so of course Bronte loves them. The weirdest thing about them is, you don't change their shoes...you change their feet. The feet detach somewhere around the ankle and then you snap on new feet shod in some other stripper shoe style. And, unlike Barbie who actually has career aspirations, all a Bratz doll wants to be is a rock star, apparently. I mean, I have seen Veterinarian Barbie and Heart Surgeon Barbie and Teacher Barbie, but I have only seen one kind of Bratz doll...a rock star. That's just a nice way of saying "slut".)
Anyway, so the three of them are playing nicely when all of Brenna's other friends show up. Because they are all 12-13 years old there was lots of giggling and whispering and giddiness and they decided to go up to Brenna's room. So, Bronte thought she would go with them. Well, Brenna had other plans...now that her friends were over she didn't need Bronte any more so she told her friends, "Run! Come on! Let's shut the door before my sister gets up here!" And with that they piled into Brenna's room and slammed the door right in Bronte's face. Bronte tried to open the door, but Brenna was pushing against the door from the other side so Bronte couldn't get the door open. I watched all this from the bottom of the stairs while I was chatting with the mother of one of the girls. So, I knew Bronte's feelings were hurt, but I wanted to see how she would handle it. Bronte walked away from Brenna's door, in tears, and went into my room. I kept chatting with the mom while glancing upstairs every once in a while to see what was going to happen. Eventually Bronte came out of my room with a piece of paper which she slipped under Brenna's door. Then she turned around and went back in my room (still in tears). A couple of minutes later she came out and slipped another piece of paper under Brenna's door and then turned around and went in her room and shut the door. I said goodbye to the mom I was talking to and went in the kitchen to finish making dinner. Suddenly I heard Brenna's door fly open and I listened to my first born STOMP down the hall and down the stairs and into the kitchen. She looked at me, all indignant as only a 12 year old can be, and handed me the two pieces of paper Bronte had slipped under her door. Disgustedly she said, "You might want to talk to your daughter," and she stomped back upstairs.
I looked down at the first piece of paper and in Bronte's precious 6 year old handwriting I read, "Brenna, you hate me." That just makes me want to cry and give her a big fat hug. With tears in my eyes I looked at the second piece of paper. In the same sweet handwriting I read, "Kiss my Ass">

Okay. What does a mother do at this point? I died laughing, but I couldn't decide if I should be mad at her for writing this, or if I should high five her because her sister was being an incredible bitch and she should have kissed Bronte's ass. What to do? What to do? Luckily at that moment, Tony walked in the door, so I handed the notes to him, told him the story and let him handle it. Well, I should have known he was going to fuck it up! He called Bronte downstairs and looked into her adorable tear-streaked little face and told her she must NEVER say that Brenna hates her and that she was forbidden to tell anyone to kiss her ass, EVER! Well, of course Bronte started to cry again so I gave Tony a shitty look, hugged Bronte and told her that Brenna was being mean and that if she would just go wait in her room then I would send Brenna right up, lips puckered, all ready to kiss her ass because she deserved it. (I know Tony has a different version of this story, but this is MY BLOG and I will tell it however I want to. I'm telling you now...he made Bronte cry and that was bad! Bad daddy!)

In the meantime, I called Brenna down and told her that she was being a complete and utter brat. She maintained that she "didn't do anything" (imagine that being said in an annoying whine). I said, "Oh really? How about slamming the door in Bronte's face and telling all your friends to hurry up before your sister came in your room." She said, "I didn't say that." Okay. At this point I am getting really pissed off, but I am trying not to raise my voice so her friends won't hear me. I don't want to embarrass her, after all. I said, "Bronte said you did. Are you calling her a LIAR?" Brenna rolled her eyes (my favorite) and said, "I didn't say it to be mean." I said, "Really, Brenna. How did you mean it to sound? Wait! Let's go upstairs and ask your friends to clear this up. C'mon! I bet they will tell me what happened. Let's GO!" and my voice kept getting louder and louder. Brenna just repeated, "I didn't do anything."

That was all I needed to launch into my tirade. It went something like this:
You don't know how lucky you are to have a sister! You better be nice to her because someday she is going to be all you have and if you keep treating her like this she won't be there for you when you need her. So help me God, you better not sit there in Bible study tonight and tell us all how "Christ-like" you are because I will remind you about how you treated your sister tonight. Jesus never would have treated anyone the way you just treated your sister, so don't go all "Jesus-y" on me tonight. How can you even sit in Bible study knowing how crappy you just acted--turning your back on your sister like that! Maybe I'll just take your friends to Bible study tonight and you can stay home and think about what Jesus would have done. As far as I'm concerned, you ought to just get upstairs and BEG your sister to forgive you...and if that means you have to kiss her ASS then just pucker up! Now get upstairs and apologize.

So, maybe I went a little too far with the Jesus-y stuff...but it worked. Whatever. I'm not sorry.

In the meantime, Tony wanted to know where Bronte had heard the phrase "kiss my ass" and looked pointedly at me. Well, everyone knows that my favorite swear word is "mother-fucker" NOT "ass" so I get annoyed and told him it wasn't from ME so it must have been from HIM. Honestly, I could not figure out how she knew that phrase. Well...we can thank Zac Efron for this particular turn of phrase. Let me tell you why...

The day after the "Kiss my Ass" incident I was sitting down in my family room at the table where Bronte colors. Her papers and coloring books were all over and I was picking them up when I looked down and saw the words "Kiss My Ass" written (by Bronte) on one of the papers. I called Bronte over and said, "Bronte, why did you write this again after all the trouble it caused yesterday?" and she replied, "Mom I wrote that on Thursday." I shook my head and asked her, "Why?" Her answer is priceless. She said, "Well, my friend M was over, remember? I was telling her about the movie "Hairspray" and how hot Zac Efron was in it and I told her how he said a bad word in the movie. Well, M wanted to know what he said and I knew you would get mad at me if I said A-S-S so I wrote it down for her." (Incidentally, my 6 year old does, in fact, use the word 'hot' when she describes Zac Efron. I'm so proud.)

So, thank you, Zac Efron for this fine family memory.

Now My Heart Is Full

2007-12-09T12:41:00.000-06:00

My daughter Brenna has a beautiful voice. She has a pitch-perfect alto voice. When she gets older, if she keeps singing, she will be the next kd lang....only not, you know....Canadian. Brenna sings a lot in church and every time she does, people cry because it's just so beautiful. When she gets complimented on her voice, Brenna just smiles and says thank you, but she really doesn't know what the big deal is because she's always been able to do it and it is totally effortless. When she was 5 she had her first big solo in church. The children's choir was putting on a big musical for Mother's Day and it was all about Noah's Ark. Brenna was the dove that Noah sent out to see if the flood was subsiding. She sang an entire song all by herself. It was the first time she was going to sing in public and she was using a microphone for the first time. Since she was so young (only 5, remember?) the microphone stand was set up right next to the piano. Well, the microphone was sound activated, so if your mouth was too far away from it, it would turn off. When Brenna got close enough to it to have her voice activate the thing she wasn't able to see it, so she would start to back up, and then it would stop working. So, during the performance, in front of 500 or so people, she would start to back away from the mic and the piano player (who was also the director) would quickly push her head back towards the mic. However, since the director was also playing the piano at the time, it was more like she would smack her on the back of the head so she could resume playing. Honest to God, we have it on video. Brenna is all dressed up in white with white wings singing sweetly about how she will "spread her wings and fly" and all of a sudden this hand comes out of nowhere and "SMACK"--Brenna's head goes jerking forward towards the mic. Yet, even at the tender age of 5, she never started laughing or stopped singing or even acknowledged that anything out of the ordinary had happened. At that point I figured she was one of two things:
1. a natural performer
2. autistic
Turns out she is number one, not number two. Honestly, it was a crap shoot. She has always been quirky, so autism wasn't totally out of the question. When she was little she used to keep a little ball of fuzz (like lint, or the cotton tip off a Q-Tip) with her at all times. Know where she kept it? Well, look at your right hand. See the first knuckle on your pinkie--the one towards the top? Okay, try to bend it without bending the other knuckle. Can't do it, can you? Well, Brenna could and she kept her little ball of fuzz in the bend of her pinkie, right behind that knuckle. She always had it with her. When she started pre-school, I bought her a silver necklace with a little silver basket (like a-tisket, a-tasket) on it and she kept her fuzz ball in there. Seriously. So...autism did cross my mind.

This is Brenna speaking in church a week ago. Isn't she gorgeous? See the blue streak in her hair? It is actually a hair extension that she had put in at a local salon. All the money the salon raises by putting blue extensions in hair goes to autism research. Brenna has a real soft spot for autistic kids because she gave up all her lunch hours in 6th grade to work with the autistic class. Turns out she has a real gift for communicating with those kids. Ironic, isn't it?

So, back to Brenna's singing...yesterday (and Friday night) her choir (one that she had to audition for and we pay for her to be in...they are really, really good) gave a Christmas concert. (In two weeks 25 of the kids from this choir will be singing in Chicago for the Joffrey Ballet's "Nutcracker". Not that I'm bragging but....ok. I'm bragging. But isn't that SO cool??) Tony and Bronte saw it Friday night (I was helping backstage) and my parents, Bronte and I saw it yesterday afternoon. It was risky taking my dad (who has Alzheimer's) because he is pretty well advanced in his disease and you just never know what he's going to do. For example, I had to tell him that, even if he knew the songs he really shouldn't sing along. (He does that a lot. In church if the choir is singing something he knows he will just chime right in...loudly) I also reminded him that he shouldn't talk out loud during the performance. The tickets were $22 and I didn't think the people around us would appreciate my addled father's commentary. Luckily most of the songs the choir sang were either really obscure or in Latin. No "Jingle Bells" for Brenna's snotty choir!

Ok...so here is my point. My dad was pretty good for the first half of the show, but he really lost it after the intermission. He kept talking...he had a coughing fit and then when my mother gave him a cough drop he sucked on it loudly and cleared his throat over and over...he kept tapping his feet. It was very difficult to keep him calm and my mom started to cry at one point because she was so frustrated. I couldn't leave the theater with him because it was too dark and we were in the middle of a row. He never would have understood the importance of a "quick and quiet getaway". So, I tried to keep him quiet so my mom could enjoy the show. At one point I was so frustrated and angry I started to cry. Then, suddenly it was like God flipped a switch in my heart. I stopped being angry and I just looked at my dad and said, "Please..." For whatever reason, that worked and he calmed down. I was still crying though, because the kids in the choir were coming down the aisles holding (fake) candles and singing "Silent Night" a cappella. It was so beautiful. Brenna just happened to stop and stand one aisle in front of us. My dad was quiet and calm...the choir was (I kid you not) angelic...and all was right in the world.

This Charming Man

2007-11-28T13:25:00.000-06:00

I adore Kevin Spacey. I think he's a really great actor. American Beauty is one of my all-time favorite movies. When he is masturbating in the shower and his voice over says, "This will be the highlight of my day," I feel his frustration and anger and sadness all at once. He was fabulous in se7en; scared the crap out of me. Even his voice work in "A Bug's Life" was brilliant. He has made some really crappy movies too...KPax anyone? It was an interesting premise, so I can see why he might have thought, "Well, this could be really interesting," but it was utter crap. And how about "Pay It Forward"? I read the book recently (A friend lent it to me. In her defense, she did warn me it wasn't the greatest book, but I wasted a good 2 hours reading the crappy thing. I will never get those 2 hours back.) and I am telling you it was horrible and stupid. By the end of the book you were hoping for some gratuitous violence or something, which did happen. The little boy, who was the main character (who thought that if someone did something nice for you then you should go out and do something nice for someone else...not rocket science. Churches have been saying that for years...but in the fictional world of this retarded book, this kid's idea revolutionized the world. Give me a break; in the real world that simplistic idea wouldn't even get the kid on Oprah, and she loves that kind of shit.) anyway...where was I? Oh, the little boy gets shot and killed at the end of the book. Even though I feel slightly guilty saying this, I was kind-of like, "Yippee! That kid was a pain in my ass!" It was a fictional character, give me a break.

Anyway, I have to assume Kevin Spacey read the stupid book before he made the movie. Now I have always assumed Kevin was a bright man, but if he really thought the book would translate into a fabulous movie, then I now assume he is a moron. Plus, the character he plays in the stupid movie (which also stars Helen Hunt, as you can see from the picture. She bugs me. Her idea of acting is putting on a "serious face" and squinching up her eyes. Barf!) is a black man in the book. Not that the color of a man's skin makes any difference as far as their acting ability or whatever, but in the book the fact that he was black was pretty important to the story line. Without that little distinction his character is even lamer! How did Kevin figure he could overcome that little hurdle?

However, this is not even my point (can you believe I have a point?) about Kevin Spacey. My point is that I pretty much respect him as an actor. Let me remind you again of his brilliant work in "American Beauty" and "L.A. Confidential" or even "A Time To Kill"!! Okay. This Christmas you can see him in "Fred Claus".What the...?!?! Even the trailers (which are supposed to show the best parts of any given movie) are bad. Didn't anyone ever tell Kevin NEVER to be in a movie starring frickin' SANTA? That just reeks of stupid-career-move. The man has 2 Oscars, for crying out loud, and now he is in a movie with SANTA? And just look at the lame "I'm the serious actor in a Christmas movie" glasses he is wearing in the photo. I am so disappointed.I hope he got paid well, because I have read some of the reviews of this movie and, well...let's just say, it's no "Elf".

Panic!

2007-11-21T17:08:00.000-06:00

You know when the perfect time is to tackle a major project, such as cleaning out a huge drawer full of 5 years worth of "I have no idea where to put this so I'm throwing it into this huge drawer" crap? Well, in my mind it's the day before friggin' Thanksgiving when you have a 15 pound turkey thawing in the meat drawer and 15 different side dishes to chop stuff up for and a bathroom in desperate need of a cleaning. What the hell...I'm going to clean out the drawer full of shit I've been avoiding for FIVE YEARS!

Tony tried to help me at one point but he didn't like my system. I was taking things out one at a time, assessing it carefully and then placing it in a pile of like items or throwing it away. For example, I had a bunch of "Pirates of the Caribbean" stickers and I had to decide whether they were worth keeping. Honestly, I only really wanted the ones of Johnny Depp, but each sheet of stickers had some of Kiera Knightly (Who really bugs me...I think it's her teeth. She looks like a piranha. So does Sigorney Weaver. She bugs me too.)and Orlando Bloom who I could care less about.

Okay, so were there enough stickers of Johnny Depp to make it worth my while to keep them? Also, what in the world am I going to do with a bunch of Johnny Depp stickers? Not being a 12 year old, I don't have a notebook to put them on. Brenna wouldn't ever stick them on her notebooks because, "Mom...he's so, so, so old!" So what exactly is their perceived value? This is my process.

Tony just wanted to chuck them in the sticker pile with nary a thought. Oh no, you drawer sorting novice! It has to take a maddeningly long time to decide what to do with each item! Then you have to arrange all your piles in order of importance! Then you have to tire of the project and have a beautifully empty drawer, but a bunch of stupid-ass piles all over the couch. That's the way to sort, dammit!

Anyway, there were a ton of photos in the drawer as well and, as any good sorter knows, you have to spend a really long time looking at each one and talking about when it was taken and then argue about when it was taken and then decide you really can't remember when it was taken, etc. Well, I came across a couple of pictures and they reminded me of a really, really great story. Actually, it makes me look like a lunatic, but I'm willing to expose my crazy side.

Okay, first of all, let me concede this point: I am NOT a morning person. Everyone who knows me understands that. However, my children still like to push the envelope once in a while on the occasional morning. Unfortunately, they always seem to pick a morning that we are out of half and half for my coffee, the dogs come in with muddy paws and I have my period. It's like they just like to live on the edge.

So, this particular morning (a few years ago) Brenna decided that she hated all her clothes. Her bus was going to come in 15 minutes and she was sitting on her bedroom floor in her underwear with her arms around her legs and rocking back and forth. I went in her room to see why she wasn't brushing her teeth yet and found her like that just rocking and staring at her armoire. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she had nothing to wear. Keep in mind that this child had an armoire filled with everything the Gap Kids had in her size. I decided to take the high road rather than lose my cool and give her the "Look at all these clothes! You have more clothes than your father and I do combined! Pick something out you ungrateful brat!" speech.

So I started to pull out clothes and show them to her saying, "How about this? You look great in this!" and she would look at the clothes and then at me like, "What are you talking about you idiot?" I finally pulled out a pair of pants and tossed them to her with a "Just put these on, you're going to be late," and she just calmly said, "I hate those pants and I will never wear them." I knew that wasn't true...she was just trying to get a rise out me. Well, guess what? That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I picked up the pants held them with one leg in each hand and said, "Oh yea? Well, then you won't mind if I do this?!?" and I pulled the legs as hard as I could in an attempt to rip them.

Let me tell you, denim is a tough fabric to tear and no matter how hard I tried to rip those stupid jeans I couldn't do it. She yelled, "Don't!" but I was so determined to rip those damn jeans at this point I was red in the face. I think I finally ripped off a belt loop when Brenna finally grabbed them out of my hands. She started to put them on and I left her room saying, "You better brush your teeth because if you don't hurry you are going to miss the bus and I am NOT driving you to school; you can walk."

I went in the bedroom to calm down and heard her walk in the bathroom. I went out in the hall and looked in the open bathroom door. She was getting ready to brush her teeth and I heard her mutter something like, "I hate these stupid jeans..." I asked, "What did you say?" and she just sighed and didn't look at me while she began to brush her teeth. As I stood there, silent (again, deciding to take the high road) she did the one thing I cannot tolerate. She slammed the bathroom door. In my face. Okay, you might as well just say, "Screw you, bitch!" because that is what you really mean when you slam a door on someone, right? I turned around and screamed, "Don't you EVER slam a door on me!" and I lifted up my leg and prepared to kick the fucking door down because I was so pissed off.
As I'm readying my best "Cagney and Lacey gonna bust down the door" kick, my darling Tony came walking out of the kitchen, glanced up the stairs and yelled, "Don't do it! I can't fix that!!" (He is not a handyman under the best of circumstances...what would he have done with a door, off the hinges and with a big foot-sized hole in it? We would have had to move.)

Well, thank GOD for the voice of reason. I didn't kick down the door (Which would have been stupid anyway. It wasn't even locked.) I just violently opened the door to find Brenna cowering on the floor because she knew she was in big-ass trouble. I don't even know what I yelled at her at this point. I just went downstairs and looked at Tony and said, "You are going to be late for work because I am going for a walk," and I left. I walked all the way down to the baseball field at the end of our street and I sat on the bench shaking. I was so mad at Brenna, but I was mostly mad at myself. I had lost my temper with a child. Yes, she was being unreasonable, but I was the grown-up and I loved her so much. I couldn't believe I had left her crying on the bathroom floor. So, I got up, crying, and I started home. As I got closer I could see her bus pulling up. I started to run and got to the house just in time to see her tear streaked face staring at me out the back window of the bus. Seriously. I felt like such a shitty, bitchy mother.

So, I grabbed Bronte (who was a toddler at the time) and I got in the car and drove to my friend B's house. She has 4 kids and once, notoriously, got so mad at one of them she duct taped him to the wall. I knew she would make me feel better. I rang her bell and I took one look at her and started to cry. I sobbed, "I'm the worst mom, EVER!" She just put her arm around me and took me to the most comfortable room in the house...the screened-in porch with the full bar. She poured me a 7-up and vodka (it was about 9 a.m.) and I told her the whole story. I stayed there for a couple of hours and then I went home, feeling much better.

Ok...so here is the funny part. At about 10:30 that night Tony was getting ready to leave and go to the homeless shelter where he volunteered once a month. I was sitting downstairs watching t.v. and I heard Tony say (from upstairs) "Holy shit."

"What?" I asked.

Tony said, "You better come up and see."

Well, the front room of our house has a bank of 6 big windows which look out on our front yard. In our front yard is a tree and in that tree looking back at me was a 10-12 foot long, HUGE, red and yellow striped stuffed gecko. I looked at Tony and said, "What the hell is that?" Tony was kind of laughing and said, "I have no idea."

Well, I did NOT see the humor in this because it was about a year after 9/11 and terrorists were everywhere. I panicked. I looked at him and said, "Don't go out there! It's probably full of anthrax!" Tony was like, "Carolyn, really..." and I said, "Call the police! Maybe it's a bomb!" Tony said, "Calm down! It's a joke!" I countered with, "Terrorists flew airplanes into buildings! Who knows what this is?" There was a BIG pause and Tony said, "Right. Terrorists have the time to stuff a giant lizard with anthrax. AND I know we'd be a huge target. In Palatine, Illinois."

Okay, now I was feeling a little foolish...so I went outside and Tony took my picture in front of the tree with the gecko in it.
(Incidentally, we left it in the tree so the kids could see it in the morning. Bronte, who wasn't quite 2 years old at the time, took one look at it and said, "Holy crap!" Brenna had Tony take the thing out of the tree and she and Bronte carried it up and down the street laughing. Apparently it didn't cross their minds that it could have a bomb in it.)

So, how did the gecko get in my tree? Well, my friend B knew I was feeling really bad and she wanted to do something to cheer me up. So, she was driving around later that day with her 4 kids and she saw this 10 foot stuffed lizard in some one's garbage. Immediately she thought, "That's just the thing to cheer up Carolyn!" So she got her 4 kids (who were 2, 4, 7 and 8 years old at the time) out of the car and had them grab the gecko and shove it in the back of their Suburban. When it was just starting to get dark she put all 4 kids back in the car and drove to my house and they artfully arranged the gecko in my tree. Honestly, who the hell does something like that? And, she had all her kids with her. It was brilliant! It sounds crazy, but this is the same woman who asked me and Brenna to come over and help her toilet paper her own house to celebrate and surprise her son before his first football game when he was 8 years old.
In any case, when I found out that she had done this I waited an appropriate amount of time (I think it was almost a year) and we went and put the gecko in HER tree one evening. I think the gecko has been in about 5 trees around town since then.

What difference does it make?

2007-11-19T17:08:00.000-06:00

Is it just me, or does Britney Spears just keep getting uglier? I know it's hard to be an alcoholic...but you'd think she would hire people to make sure she didn't go out in public looking like this. I mean, seriously...she makes Paris Hilton look classy. I don't know why I keep up with the whole Britney thing, except for the fact that I get updates on all the best celebrity gossip thanks to people.com, but I am just disgusted by the whole thing...I don't know why. Maybe it's because here is a girl with absolutely zero talent who was lucky enough to score some half-way decent dance tunes and became a wealthy talent-less star through some weird cosmic fluke. I would think she would be smart enough to hire some people to be sure she held on to it, right? Here is what she used to look like:

She wasn't the cutest girl I ever saw, but she looked pretty good. I never really saw the appeal and I can't stand the way she sings, but...okay. I can see her providing masturbation material for thousands of adolesent boys and a whole bunch of pedophiles, but I figured she would go away fairly quickly. However, that is also the way I felt about Madonna, so what do I know?
In any case, now she looks like this: Wow. Her mom must be so proud.
Here is another one of my favorites:

Gee. I sure hope she was drunk when she went out in public with this on. Could she not feel the breeze on her ass cheeks? Doesn't she have anyone in her entourage that could have said, "Put some damn pants on, woman! Your ass is hanging out!" Good thing her kids are too young to be aware of what a slutty moron their mother is. I bet Kevin Federline never thought he'd be thinking, "Boy, I got out just in time!" It just doesn't make any sense.

We hate it when our friends become successful

2007-11-13T15:06:00.000-06:00

I recently heard from an old high school friend of mine. Well, actually I looked at his "My Space" page and left a comment which he then commented on etc. Anyway, in high school he was sort of an outcast...a loner, so to speak. (Sort of like Pee Wee Herman in Pee Wee's Big Adventure when he tells Dotty, "You don't want to get mixed up with a guy like me. I'm a loner, Dotty. A rebel." The thing Pee Wee forgot to mention to Dotty was that he was a porn theater masturbater too, but maybe that's what he meant by "loner". Makes sense. Incidentally, I have never been to or even SEEN a movie theater that shows porn, but can you imagine sitting in a seat in a porn theater? I mean, you would have to bring a plastic drop-cloth to sit on because who knows what kind of bodily fluids your butt might come in contact with if you didn't! Yikes! I have a friend who went on a "nude cruise" once. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like...a bunch of naked people on a Carnival Cruise ship. Anyway, she said that you had to bring a towel with you to dinner because you couldn't sit on the dining room chairs without one. Okay...so I thought about that one for a little while...I assume that the chairs were upholstered, right? Think about what part of your ass would be in direct contact with the chair cushion and what it might leave behind...Is a towel REALLY adequate protection?)
Anyway, where was I? Oh, my high school friend, the loner. He didn't play sports, he didn't play an instrument, he wasn't in student government and he wasn't some sort of a brainiac. Let's put it in "Breakfast Club" terms...he wasn't jocky, like Emilio Estevez; he wasn't a dork, like Anthony Michael Hall; he wasn't a bad ass, like Judd Nelson (his character was totally my type in high school but I only dated guys from other schools so I wouldn't be distracted during school hours); and he wasn't rich enough to be Molly Ringwald...he was more like Ally Sheedy's character, only male and without dandruff. Rob (that's his name) had jet black hair that was all spiked on the top (it was the 80's, ok?) and totally white skin and he wanted to be a DJ. He drove an ancient Chevy Nova that you needed to have a pencil to get into. The car doors had handles that looked like this:

So, you grasp the handle and press your thumb on the button thing to open the door, right? Well, the button was gone on both handles, so you had to stick a pencil in the hole where the button used to be to pop the door open. Whenever we went anywhere he would say, "I'll drive, you bring the pencil." Did I mention that my mother absolutely hated Rob? He had a funny haircut and a crappy car that she was embarrassed to have parked in front of our house and his family lived on the wrong side of town and his brother's name was in the police reports once because he shot a gun at a passing car and didn't I know that I was going to be judged by the company I kept, blah, blah, blah. My mother wanted me to be friends with boys that were clean-cut and drove nice cars and played sports. I wanted to be friends with people who were bright and interesting and wanted to do more than drink beer and get blow jobs on Friday nights. I went on a date once with the cutest guy in my school...he was a wrestler. He picked me up, took me back to his house (his parents were gone) and wanted to know if I would suck his dick. I said no, so then he asked me to do his homework. I think I said something like, "Does this shit usually work?" and he said, "Well, yes..." As I recall I said something like, "You have got to be kidding me," and then I laughed and laughed. I also remember walking home. Great guy. I think he told everyone on the wrestling team that he nailed me and I was too disgusted by the entire thing to even fight back. Besides, at least it was the cutest guy in school lying about sleeping with me and not the ugliest guy in school. Right? Always look on the bright side of life. That was the one and only time I dated someone from my stupid high school.
One day I decided that Rob really needed a pair of Calvin Klein jeans (did I mention that this was in the 80's?) so we drove his Nova (did you know that No Va means doesn't go in Spanish?) to the local County Seat. The store was in a strip mall in our hometown and on the outside of the store, above the door were the words COUNTY SEAT in red 3-D lit-up letters. The letters stuck out like this:

except they were red. Get the picture?

Well, as Rob and I were walking into the store he was throwing his keys up in the air and catching them and we were laughing about how much my mother hated him. He was really bugged by it, though (I imagine it was because he had spent the bulk of his life being judged by his appearance and his brother's misdemeanors) and he kept throwing his keys up higher and higher. On his last toss before we were going to enter the store, Rob really whipped those keys up and we both watched them land in the middle of the 3-D letter "O" in the word COUNTY. Now, these letters were a good 15 feet above the ground, if not more. We both just stood there. I think Rob even mutely stuck his hand out, palm up, hoping the keys would just fall in it. Needless to say I started laughing. Rob just stood there staring at the "O". I was laughing so hard I was crying and I said, "What are you going to do?" Rob said, "I'm going to go buy some Calvin Klein jeans."

I don't remember if Rob got jeans that day, but I do know that the store manager had to call the fire department to come with the ladder truck

to get his keys out of the sign. It was hilarious. I, being the perverse person I am, couldn't wait to get home and tell my mother.
So, one day Rob was supposed to come and pick me up so we could go somewhere and my mom decided that she had just had it! She wasn't going to stand by and watch me hang out with someone fun and interesting! She wanted me to be popular and slutty! (I don't think that was her intention...but she did encourage me not to quit cheerleading when I was a senior...I did quit, by the way.) It was a beautiful day and the front door was open as Rob approached our house, keys and pencil in hand. Needless to say he heard everything my mother said. She said things like, "Why do you have to bring home all the strays?" and "You hang around with him so much because he hasn't got any other friends!" and all sorts of hurtful, terrible things. So, he turned around and walked away. We never went and did whatever it was we were going to do that day because he wouldn't even talk to me when I called.
The next day I got a delivery from FTD. It was a huge basket of flowers with a card that said, "Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. I was busy hanging out with all my "friends". Love, Rob the Stray." My mom was so pissed off. I thought it was brilliant. I still do.
Later on Rob became a very successful DJ, then a program director (just like Andy Travis from WKRP in Cincinnati) and a stand-up comedian. He also found God, became born-again and told me Elton John was going straight to hell because he's gay...but that's another story. My mom has since apologized to me many times for being so hard on Rob. Even better, she has apologized to Rob. Born again or not, he couldn't help but tell her how well he'd done in his career and rub her nose in her judgemental-ness. Oh well, he knows God will forgive him.

I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now

2007-11-03T16:38:00.000-06:00

Well...another Halloween come and gone and all we have to show for it are 2 pillowcases with about 20 pounds of candy in each. Now, whenever my kids tell me they are hungry I say, "Why don't you have a piece of Halloween candy?" no matter what time it is. Pretty soon there won't be anything left but Dots (who really buys those to hand out? They taste like crap) and those bags of Kiwanis peanuts that someone in our neighborhood always hands out.

This year my kids decided they wanted to dress up like Superheros. Bronte found a Spiderman costume at Costco in August and so Brenna decided she would be Superman and her friend J would be Batman and her friend G would be Robin (who is technically just a side-kick, not a real Superhero, but I wasn't going to point it out to her. Well, I might have, but only on Halloween when she was actually wearing the costume so she could walk around in SHAME all night. Just kidding. Really.) and Bronte's friend L was going to be Supergirl. Then they were all going to go trick-or-treating together. So far, so good, right? WRONG! By the time I actually got around to taking Brenna and her friend G shopping for their costumes (J and her mom had already gotten the Batman costume. J's mom is really efficient which just makes me mad because I look so lame in comparison. She's skinny too. Bitch.) there weren't any stupid Superhero costumes left. We went to a whole bunch of stores too, not just the Target around the corner. So, I bought them the next best thing to a Superhero costume....I bought them Ghostbuster costumes. I thought it was such a great idea, I bought Ghostbuster costumes for Tony and me too. (After all, there were 4 Ghostbusters) Brenna's friend, J, decided that she didn't want to be a Superhero anymore, so her mom made her a costume to go with ours. J was the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Yes, her mother MADE IT. See why I have a hard time liking her? Who has the time or the energy to MAKE costumes? When I was a kid, I was the same thing for Halloween every year; a princess. I wore a tiara, a long sparkly dress and makeup. Perfect! Then, when I was in 4th grade I discovered Elton John...so I dressed up like Elton John every year after that. I wore a tiara, a long sparkly dress and make-up! Perfect! I figured, "Why be a stupid princess when I can be a Queen?"
Okay, back to this Halloween...so, the kids went to school and Tony and I prepared ourselves for the day. Tony set up the fog machine, put the flying red-eyed bat on the basketball hoop, made sure the scary scarecrow was firmly attached to the tree with the giant spiderweb, prepared the sound-activated "rat in a trap" to go off every time a kid approached the door...and I went to the gym. Hey, a Ghostbuster needs to be buff. When I got back and showered, we put on our Ghostbuster costumes and went to Bronte's school to help with the party. Out of Bronte's entire first grade class, she was the only one who knew who we were supposed to be, because we, of course, allow our 6 year old to watch movies with scary ghosts and sexual undertones. WHATEVER! I helped the kids make homemade slime out of water, Borax and glue. (The teacher split the kids into groups of 4 and they went to different stations around the room. Slime was mine.) I told them all that they weren't to eat it or let their pets or siblings eat it either. Some kid asked me, "Can I let my brother lick it?" at which point I wondered why I thought it was a good idea to have first graders make slime. Of course they want to eat it! Especially after I told them not to. Tony was at the second most popular station (with mine being the first); the donut on a string station. At this station, there were chocolate cake donuts tied to a dowel rod on a long string. The kids had to put their hands behind their backs and kneel (prison-style) two at a time and try to eat the donut faster than the other kid. Tony told me afterward that there was one girl that had the longest tongue he'd ever seen. She literally stuck her tongue out, wrapped it around the donut and stuck it in her mouth. She's going to be very popular in high school.

After school we went back to the house and got ready for the real fun. My mom and dad came over to hand out candy so we could go trick-or-treating with the kids but not be the lame-o's of the neighborhood who isn't home on Halloween. You see, I don't care if my PARENTS are the lame-o's of their neighborhood, I only care about my own reputation. Brenna was ready to go in her Ghostbuster costume and her friend J was getting her Stay Puft costume on with the help of her mother. We were waiting for my dear friend to show up with her kids G and L who were going be the fourth Ghostbuster and Supergirl, respectively. Finally, once we had taken copious photos on the front lawn, we were all ready to go. Supergirl, Spiderman, the four Ghostbusters (because, of course Tony and I stayed in our costumes) and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man set off. My dear friend (the mother of G and L), I assumed, was going to come with us because I figured she'd want to see people's reactions to her kids in costume. However, she turned around and got in her car. I looked at her daughter, G, and said, "Where's your mom going?" and she said, "I don't know. She's probably going to follow us in the car, " and then she rolled her eyes. (She's 12, just like my sassy daughter. Her eyeballs are going to stick in permanent eye-roll mode just like Brenna's.) Well, sure enough, my pal was in her black BMW sports-utility vehicle inching along the curb right behind us.
From the sidewalk, I turned to her to ask her what the hell she was doing in the car when....suddenly...I heard something. Oh yes...my genius friend was BLASTING the Ghostbusters theme song from her Beemer. I almost wet my pants laughing. She yelled out (over the strains of "Who ya gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!") to me, "Are you surprised? I went on-line and bought it and I have it on this disc over and over!" I was laughing my ass off. I tried to tell her how awesome it was, but she kept yelling "WHAT?" because she had the volume up all the way and she couldn't hear me. So, I decided to show my appreciation through dance. I did The Lawnmower, The Funky Chicken and various versions of The Robot. She was laughing so hard she almost ran into a parked car. My neighbors probably all thought I was drunk. Tony and I danced (seriously...danced) all over the neighborhood to the Ghostbusters song for upwards of 2 hours. My friend inched along behind us, blasting the song and smoking cigarettes in her black BMW the entire time. Honestly, she is the best! Who else would have thought to do that? (I don't know why I was so surprised though. I mean, this is the same girl who, 13 years ago, gave me "the best water ever". Let me explain...we were both working as make-up artists for Lancome and we won some stupid contest and we got to go see "Miss Saigon" in Chicago. The downside of this, for both of us, was that we were going to have to go with the other stupid girls who won. Well, my friend decided to drive and I, of course, had to sit in the front seat. As we were speeding down the tollway into the city, she was drinking from a huge sippy cup thing. At one point she turned to me and said, "Here, have a drink." I said, "What is it?" She replied, "Water," and I said, "No thanks, I'm not thirsty." She said, "Have some!" and I said, "I'm not THIRSTY." She shoved it in my hands and said, "It's really good water." To appease her, I took a huge gulp. Big mistake. The cup was full of champagne.) I have never had more fun trick-or-treating in my life. I don't think my kids have either. At one point, Brenna got all of us Ghostbusters to do a fabulous line dance where we pretended to shoot her friend the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. It was great. I think my friend was mostly deaf for at least 2 hours afterwards judging from the way she yelled her entire conversation at the dinner table.
Next year, when we go trick-or-treating, we are definitely going to need a soundtrack again. It made it WAY more fun. Maybe we should go as John Travolta circa Saturday Night Fever and she could follow us blaring "Stayin' Alive". What do you think??

Bigmouth Strikes Again...

2007-10-25T19:26:00.000-06:00

My daughter, Brenna, who is 12 years old and is completely unimpressed with anything and rolls her beautiful eyes so much that I swear they are going to stick looking up at her brain and she will look like one of the lobotomized humans from Planet of the Apes, said the nicest thing to me the other day..."Mom, when I grow up I'm going to be a cool mom just like you." Isn't that sweet? I think she said it on our way home from dropping her friends off at their homes after attending a Bible Study I lead for 7th and 8th grade girls. Brenna and four of her friends got in the car and I immediately turned on Justin Timberlake. No, no, no...not "SexyBack". That would be wrong. I turned on "Damn Girl" and the lyrics to that song are:

Damn Girl, Damn Girl, Damn Girl, Damn Girl, Damn....

The girls thought it was hilarious, except for one. She was not happy. She did not approve. So, I talked about how, as Christians, we don't judge because only God has the right to do that. We can gently try to guide our friends to see a more Christian perspective, but judging is not our place. Then I went off on the religious right banning books and how in my last Bible Study some judgemental, righteous holier-than-thou type told me I was a sinner because I watched MTV and read People magazine. I said that, as Christians, we needn't feel guilty that we listen to Justin Timberlake or Fergie...and that "Damn Girl" isn't a bad song. He's actually complimenting a girl. (He could have just called her foxy though. That's a good one.)

The funny thing about that stupid Justin Timberlake disc is that, when I bought it, I actually got the censored version so that all the swear words were muted out. I figured it was going to be inappropriate enough that my 6 year old was going to go around singing, "I'm bringing sexy back--yeah" and I didn't need to introduce any more colorful phrases into her vocabulary. Well, then I listened to "SexyBack" a few times. In the first chorus Justin asserts that, "Them other boys don't know how to act" which is cute and catchy. Well, in the second chorus the lyric went, "Them other (mumble) don't know how to act," and in the third it went, "You mother (mumble) watch how I attack." Okay, well...if you know me you know that my favorite swear word in the whole world is mother-fucker. It just sounds so satisfying when you call someone you can't stand a "mother-fucker". Or, when you stub your toe on the corner of the coffee table there's nothing like a good "Mother Fucker!" to make you feel better. Anyway, it was pretty obvious to me that Justin was saying my favorite swear word in SexyBack and I became obsessed with hearing the original version. Well, of course, they play the censored version on the radio so I wasn't going to hear it there and I didn't know anyone my own age who might actually own the Justin Timberlake disc. I really wanted to go out and buy the uncensored disc, just in case he sang "mother-fucker" in any of the other songs too, but I just couldn't justify (Ha!) spending another thirteen bucks on a lame, totally age-inappropriate, pseudo-dance disc for myself. Well, as luck would have it, one night we were driving home Brenna's oldest friend who I love as much as I love my own kids and she said, "Brenna, you're so lucky to have this disc. I wish I had it." So, being the fabulous pretend-aunt that I am I gave her the disc. The next day I went to Best Buy and bought the uncensored version so that I could hear the word "mother-fucker".

My darling daughter Brenna, however, didn't even roll her eyes when I gave her friend the disc. Honestly, she is the least selfish kid I have ever met. Plus, she probably figured that I would go out and buy another one. I listen to that stupid disc all the time.

Anyway, Brenna's friend was just livid that I would play that song and that the rest of the girls would actually enjoy it. She, obviously didn't hear me talk about intolerance, etc...but I don't really care. I'm the mom and I will play whatever I want in my own car. If I had a recording of Justin Timberlake and that Adam guy from Saturday Night Live doing "Dick In A Box" I would play that the next time she was in my car. (Well, probably not, but I sure would be tempted. By the way, if I you haven't seen "Dick In A Box" then you really need to click here and watch it. It's hilarious.)

In any case, now I find myself using questionable language when I am in this child's presence...like "crap" and "what the....(Hell is implied)" and "dammit". It's only a matter of time before she isn't allowed to hang out with Brenna any more. Oh well, no big loss.

The Queen is dead, boys...

2007-10-22T16:30:00.000-06:00

Holy crap! Dumbledore is gay?! That's it! I am going to throw away all of my Harry Potter books because my pristine pretend magical world has been sullied by the knowledge that the beloved Dumbledore is a pansy. Begin the book burning!

Give me a break. Who cares if the made-up headmaster (a title that has all new meaning for me now that I know about Dumbledore's proclivities) of a fictional school for wizards is gay? Hello!!! It's a book! Besides the fact that JK Rowling can think and say anything about Dumbledore (or Harry or Hermione or Ron, etc.) that she wants--she invented them! To suggest that she said Dumbledore was a gay man to sell more books (because that really seems to be a problem for the Potter series...dismal sales) or to stick it to the religious right is retarded. In the throes of creating such a rich and faceted fantasy world it is naive to think that JK didn't imagine lives outside the pages for all of her characters. C'mon! He's here! He's queer! Get used to it! If you're pissed off that JK "outed" Dumbledore (a fictional character, I remind you) then be comforted by the fact that HE DIES! Guess she showed that queer who's boss!

And, as far as pissing off the religious right goes...why would she even care? It's not like all their bitching and pulling of Harry Potter novels off library shelves hurt the sales of her book any. Is she, perhaps, dismayed (as an artist) at being so misunderstood? I doubt it, but I could be wrong. (It reminds me of a class I took in college called "In Print, In Person" in which we-the class- read a book and then the actual author came in and told us what he really meant. Well, we spent the better part of a semester reading "Slaughterhouse 5" by Kurt Vonnegut and trying to decide what imagery he was using and what various symbols in the book stood for, only to have Kurt come in and say, "For Christ's sake! I made it up. It doesn't mean anything!") Besides, has it occurred to anyone that she has finished the Harry Potter series? I mean, it's not like this huge revelation is going to affect the next book (Dumbledore gets his freak on with the headmaster of Durmstrang, saves the memory in the Penseive and Harry stumbles across it like a boy finding his dad's Playboy mags under the marital bed...) because she finished the series, kids!! Anything that Dumbledore has done can only be conjured up in your filthy little minds! Besides, if JK were to continue writing and cover the years after the big battle at the end of Book 7 and the (lame-ass) epilogue who knows what would have happened? Harry would have been screwing groupies like a crazed Steven Tyler in the 70's driving poor Ginny to drink herself into a series of rehabs. Ron would have gotten hopped up on some super magical steroids so he could play Quidditch professionally and then he would have gone into some sort of 'roid rage and beat the shit out of Hermione one night when she was getting all pious on his ass. Luna Lovegood would become a stripper (with a name like that what else could she become?). Yikes! I would rather have some tender man-on-man action starring Dumbledore than all that crap.

Bottom line is...the fact that Dumbledore is gay was just an incidental part of his character which is why JK didn't include it in the books. Doesn't change my opinion of him at all, but it does explain his incredible flair! Plus, the fact that he was so in touch with his feminine side was what made him so tender towards Harry, if you ask me. (Now don't go turning that into some sick-o pedophile reference. His tenderness towards Harry was loving and motherly, not sexual. That's why Harry adored him.) Besides, why am I talking about a fictional character like he is a real person? Unless he "got gay" on the pages of one of the seven books then this information is superfluous and just something that JK used to create a wonderful character. For all those idiots who are going to pitch a fit and not let their kids read HP because JK said Dumbledore is gay (which is never even implied in the books) then they are only teaching their children bigotry and intolerance. I don't even have the time to address how stupid those people are. Maybe Dumbledore can help us out here....

In other news, did you know that JK Rowling is a huge Morrissey fan?

Moz Possee

2007-10-18T14:21:00.000-06:00

I don't even know where to begin. Luckily I have friends like Jim who told me that I should start with what we wore to the concert... Well, I wore my Viva Hate t-shirt (see my last post for a picture of it) with a lovely cream colored long sleeve JJill pucker tee underneath. I had on my favorite black pants and my black wing-tip Docs. I had a 30 minute inner debate about whether I should wear my contacts or glasses, because I like the androgynous vibe I give off when I wear my black garb and my rectangular Prada glasses with the rhinestones on the sides, but I finally ended up with the contacts because I didn't want to have to worry about keeping my glasses clean all night. (I'm really anal about having my glasses crystal clean all the time. Hard to imagine, I'm sure...) Tony had on my "Your Arsenal" tee shirt (which is the one I really wanted to wear because the pic of Morrissey on the front is so sexy. However, since we were going to be in the front row and Tony has always attracted the attention of gay men, I thought Morrissey might really dig him if he wore the "Your Arsenal" tee.) and a pair of jeans. I really am not one of those rabid fans who live and breathe for the object of my admiration. However, last night, standing at the feet of Morrissey while he performed was one of the absolutely most incredible experiences of my life. I didn't cry or pass out or flip out and scream...that is SOOOOO not my style. But I cried when the concert was over and we were safely back in the Durango. It was overwhelming.
Yes, I know I sound retarded and like some stupid high school girl talking about The Backstreet Boys but I just can't help myself.

Back to Moz...when Tony and I got to the theater the first thing we saw was the merch booth, so of course I had to stand there for 15 minutes to decide what t-shirt to get. (I got 2) then we went into the actual theater. This is a photo of the inside of the actual theater.(from the stage, obviously)Well, we took a look down the aisle toward the front and saw that they had set up two rows of chairs in front of the front row. Tony said, "Shit! There's going to be people in front of us," which had me VERY disappointed and I was sad as we were led to our seats. But-wait! No, no, no, no...look up sad girl!! the usher led us right to the first row of chairs and took us to the two that were in the exact middle of the front row. We were, literally a foot away from the stage. Needless to say my ass didn't hit the chair from the second Morrissey appeared. The stage was about 4 and a half feet off the floor (I'm totally guessing...I am really, really bad at measurements, but let me tell you this, it was about 3 inches above my belly button--not quite boob height) and I stood there the entire concert with my arms on the stage leaning towards Morrissey. When Moz sang I seriously could have counted his teeth. I didn't, because I think everyone has 32, if you count wisdom teeth, and I was too busy trying to think of something to say to him if he asked me a question. However, the one question he did ask everyone in the front row was the identity of the person on his backdrop...and Tony said it was Marlon Brando so I went with it because I thought he was right. However, it was a young Richard Burton so I felt like a total idiot. Damn! My one opportunity to impress Morrissey and I blew it!

Anyway...Morrissey had on brown trousers, lovely brown square toed lace up shoes, which couldn't have been leather because he is such an animal-loving vegan (listen to "Meat is Murder" if you have a question about that)but they sure were fabulous, and a brown button down dress shirt. His eyes are so blue...they are as blue as Bronte's eyes. Okay, you can't really tell how blue Bronte's eyes are in that picture, but she's so freakin' cute I had to include it.
Anyway, he opened with "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before" and it was just unbelievable from that moment on. At one point Morrissey left while the band was playing and changed his shirt. He came back wearing a gorgeous yellow shirt which he sweat through quickly. So, right in the middle of "How Soon Is Now" he (in dramatic rock-star style) ripped the shirt off---buttons flying everywhere---screaming fans in a frenzy---and wadded it up and threw it (I shit you not) right at Tony. (It was his sassy tee shirt, I tell you) Well, some asshole fuck-wad from way left came leaping out of nowhere and grabbed the shirt while it was in Tony's hands and started yelling, "I got it! Let go!" After about 15 seconds of fighting with this dick-head for the shirt, Tony looks at me and says, "How bad do you want it?" I said, "I want it," and Tony says, "Grab it and pull." So I am pulling, Tony is pulling and the asshole is pulling. The guy behind Tony says, "Hey man, I got your back," to Tony and I finally get a good look at the rabid fan who Tony is trying to get the shirt from. He was big and bald with a fuzzy orangish goatee and suddenly I realize that it's just a shirt and I am missing the show. I let go.
In the meantime, Tony realizes that this commotion is pissing me and Morrissey off and he thinks to himself, "Hey man, Morrissey is a pacifist," and he lets go too.

Let me just tell you something, though...that shirt smelled beautiful. I could still smell it on my hands before I fell asleep last night. It was a combination of clean sweat and patchouli. As much as I wish I had the shirt, I wouldn't trade the experience of that concert (and the knowledge that my husband loves me so much he almost threw an elbow at the guy's nose to get the buttonless, fragrant shirt) for anything. I hope the asshole that got it is allergic to patchouli and gets an itchy, red rash on his dick after masturbating with the thing all night. (You know that's what he did. He was crazy.)
The best part of the night came during "I Like You" during the part when Morrissey sings,
"You're not right in the head and nor am I
And this is why
You're not right in the head and nor am I
And this is why
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you
Because you're not right in the head, and nor am I
And this is why, You're not right in the head, and nor am I
And this is why, This is why I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you"
He came right up to the edge of the stage where Tony and I were, and he looked right at Tony and sang and shook his hand and then did the same to me. A real handshake too...not some wimpy "I'll grab your hand because you've got it sticking out" bullshit. It was a real-live "nice to meet you, aren't you impressed with my really firm and possibly slightly too long" handshake. Okay, maybe it was slightly too long because I wouldn't let go, but WHATEVER!! I shook the man's hand.

Honestly, I spent the night at the feet of a legend. He's a genius and I love him.

Sickness Be Damned!!

2007-10-17T07:20:00.000-06:00

I have been sick for the past couple of days. Nothing too tragic, just a cold gone nova. However, even if I were really sick I would still be in the front row for Morrissey tonight. Even if I had to come in with an I.V. I would be there in my pajama bottoms and my 'Viva Hate' t-shirt.
I am so excited, I can't stand it. I am going to play Morrissey all day today at my stupid-ass job (As Morrissey would say, "I was looking for a job, and then I found a job...and Heaven knows I'm miserable now,") and when people ask me who I am listening to I will spit out, "Morrissey, of course," and then look at them with derision.
I will let you know tomorrow how absolutely fabulous the concert was.

My husband rocks!

2007-10-11T19:59:00.000-06:00

Tony got us front row seats to see Morrissey next Wednesday night. He can (officially) do no wrong. I have spent the last four or so weeks complaining about my stupid-ass job...but I will stop now because I am going to see Morrissey. In the front row. Center.

Party on Garth!

2007-10-03T07:39:00.000-06:00

I hate pumping gas. What happened to the good old days when some high school kid came sauntering out of the gas station and pumped your damn gas for you while you sat in your car wondering if he was going to clean the windshield? When I lived in Arizona there was only one gas station in the entire Phoenix/Paradise Valley area that had attendants. It was WAAAYYY over-priced and totally inconveniently located but I went out of my way to have someone pump my gas in 110 degree heat. I even tipped.

Well, I was on my way home from my stupid-ass job the other day and my stupid-ass "go get some gas, dumb shit" light and dinger went off. Now, this was a banner day for me already because I wore my favorite Ann Taylor Loft black skirt and a little flirty black twin set and heels. Yes, heels on the girl who thinks Doc Martens are appropriate footwear with anything. (They pretty much are, though. I love all my Docs because the soles are totally disaster proof. According to the bottom of my shoes I could even walk through ACID and come out completely unscathed. What a comfort! Ever since I saw "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" I have been convinced that I am secretly a "toon" and it's only a matter of time before Judge Doom finds me and throws a bucket of dip at me. I bet my Docs could walk through a puddle of dip and I would be just fine.)
Ok, anyway, I decide I better stop at the Citgo and get some gas which I know I have to pump myself and that just pisses me off. So, I do what I always do when I am pissed off...I find a way to blame Tony. So, while I am pumping one billion dollars worth of gas into my Durango I am thinking to myself that if Tony REALLY loved me he would have assumed that I was running low on petrol and gassed up the Durango the night before. After all, I cook, I clean, I do his stupid laundry...the least he could do is pump my gas! Geez!
So, in the middle of my mental tirade this 20-something year old walks out of the gas station. I give him a cursory glance because he and I are the only people there. He is headed toward his 1983 Nissan or whatever and he slows down, looks me up and down, smiles and nods his head and says, "Foxy!" (or, as my friend P spelled it for me, "Faaahxy") Then he gets in his car, looks at me again, nods his head and drives away.
Honestly, I almost died laughing. I felt like I was in the middle of a "Wayne's World" movie. Who the hell says, "Foxy" anymore? Of course, I was secretly pleased that some (probably) unemployed drunken 20 something year old driving a shitty 20 year old car thought I was foxy...but I did see the humor in the moment.
As soon as I was done pumping my gas I got in the car and called my friend L who is my old college room mate. I told her the story and she said, "Holy shit! Did you die laughing?" Hey! Wait a minute! It occurred to me that, although I did want her to think it was a funny little incident, I didn't want her to sound so incredulous! What the hell? I am foxy, right??? So I blew her off and called P who is also a college friend, but he's a guy and I thought he might back up the "foxy" thing. Well, when he stopped laughing and I point-blank asked him if I was, indeed, "foxy" he told me that I was, of course. Hey...that's all I wanted to hear.

A tisket, a tasket...

2007-09-23T20:38:00.000-06:00

Oh my gosh! Have you missed me? I miss me too! I got a stupid-ass job and now I have no life at all. If only we could all live the good life on the barter system--I could trade funny but bitchy blog posts for food, shelter and granite counter-tops.

Anyway...I went to another one of those "come over to my house and buy shit from my imaginary store" parties. I really don't like those parties, but I'll do just about anything to get out of the house so I went. Now, I don't have anything against multi-level marketing or anything...especially if the product is good and I will actually use it...but let's be serious here. When you invite someone over to your house for a REAL party, you don't suggest that they bring a friend to get a free gift. Conversely, you don't go to one of these "parties" for the conversation, unless you like to pretend that you are participating in the world's longest infomercial. You also don't show up at a "party" expecting NOT to buy something. I can't tell you how many times I have been to one of these events and over heard women comparing notes on the cheapest thing they could possibly buy and not look like they were just trying to buy the cheapest thing so they could get the fuck out of there. Honestly, does anyone even believe that whole "don't feel like you HAVE to buy something" crap? Of course you have to buy something...that's why you were invited! I would never be so stupid to think that if I accepted an invitation to a "buy stuff party" and didn't actually buy something I wouldn't be raked over the coals by the hostess and her friends the minute I left. I remember going to one of those retarded basket parties once. I had no idea how expensive those stupid baskets were! I was struggling to find anything in the catalog that was under 50 bucks! Plus, those rabid basket lovers had no sense of humor whatsoever. We were all sitting around listening to the basket lady's spiel (well, I wasn't really listening. I was drifting off because I had already had, like 3 glasses of wine.) and she told us to look on page 10 of the catalog. We all dutifully did and she said, "See that picture? It's the Longaberger basket factory! It looks JUST LIKE this Longaberger basket!" and she held up an ordinary looking picnic basket.
I was so floored by her enthusiasm for this ridiculous fact that I snidely said, "Only bigger, right?" She looked at me with her best confused-puppy look and sweetly said, "What?" And I replied, "Well, you said it looks just like the basket you're holding and I was just hoping it was bigger," and then I started to laugh because I thought it was fucking hilarious and I had already had 3 glasses of wine. I'm not kidding you when I say that I was the only one who saw the humor in that. I looked around the room and no one was even smiling which just made me laugh even more. I was practically crying at this point. I made things worse by adding, "Imagine how small the workers would have to be! They'd all be slaving away to make these humongous baskets. It would take those tiny little elves a year to make just one basket! No wonder they're so expensive!" Okay, now I was really laughing because the whole concept of going to someones house to buy $150 baskets was so stupid...but, yet, there I was anyway! What the...?!?!? Plus, I couldn't imagine how many drugs you would have to be on to actually think you could make a living selling these over-priced baskets in people's houses in a "party" context and get all excited about a factory shaped like a frickin' picnic basket. I actually had to leave the room because I was laughing so hard and I was obviously offending everyone with my superior sense of the absurd. Needless to say I was never invited back to that woman's house again. But, honestly...who has a stupid basket party to begin with?

In any case, some of these parties I actually love. I LOVE Pampered Chef parties. I get to watch someone (besides me) cook and I always really WANT to buy something. I really do use all 3 sizes of scoops I bought. (I didn't really think I would, but I wanted the complete set so I bought them all.) I also love any party that includes make-up. Because I used to be a make-up artist it's fun for me to see what's out there and to hear the funny shit the "hostess" will say to sell it even though she has NO CLUE what she's talking about. (Now, I have a friend who sells skincare and makeup and nutritional products in this "party" way and she is actually really good. She knows a butt-load about the nutritional and skin-care products, but doesn't know beans about make-up because she rarely wears any. Because she is a frickin' genius she asked me to come and do some make-overs at a "party" at her house and I did it because she enticed me with a basket of free stuff. Love free stuff! I had a lot of fun and she sold a bunch of make-up, so it was a win/win, except for the fact that she keeps trying to suck me into the "cult". I have resisted so far, but I also won't drink any beverage she offers me.) So, this party I just went to was a new product I have never heard of...Lia Sophia jewelry. I like jewelry as much as the next guy, so I thought I would go even though I knew the mark-up on the stuff was somewhere around a million percent. Whatever. I have a stupid job now so I can buy myself some over-priced costume jewelry out of a catalog while I'm half-popped on cheap wine coolers if I want to! Despite myself, I had fun looking at the stuff and actually bought something I really like. We'll see how I feel about it when I actually get it. It was fun at the moment and I cheerfully wrote the check for it, but I came home with NOTHING. That's what I hate about these parties. When I buy something, I want it right now. I don't want to wait until the hostess decides to "close the party" and then wait another week for shipping. I want to go home and have it in my hands so I can play with my new toy right away. By the time my new necklace reaches me my wine cooler buzz is a thing of the past and I really might want that 40 bucks back. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Let Them Eat Cake!!

2007-09-02T18:21:00.000-06:00

My oldest daughter, Brenna, just started 7th grade this year. So, you know what that means...I am just waiting for her to get her period. All of her friends already have theirs (one of them got it on the day of Brenna's 12th birthday party...at the beach. That was interesting.) Her really close friend (let's call her "C") got hers for the first time the day she was coming to stay with us for a week. Now, I have known this child since the day she was born because her mother is one of my very closest friends, so when my friend told me that C had gotten her period that day I started to cry. We were standing in my driveway crying and C came out of the house to see what was going on. I told her that her mom had just told me that she got her period and C kind of rolled her eyes and got all red. So, to make her feel more comfortable I told her about the day I got my period for the first time. This is a true story, I swear.

I got my period when I was a freshman in high school. I woke up in the morning and there it was. Yipee. I went downstairs to the kitchen and told my mother and she said, "It's OK. I have everything you need. I'll go get the belt." Now, for those of you that don't know what the belt is,
I have provided a picture. Imagine THAT in between your legs all day. I took one look at it and said, "You have got to be kidding. Mom I want the stick-on kind."

My mom said, "What are you talking about? There's no such thing."

"Yes there is, Mom."

"No, there isn't. I've never heard of them."

"Just because you haven't heard of them doesn't mean they don't exist."

This argument went on for 5 minutes. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table looking at the sports page, trying really, really hard to pretend he couldn't hear us. I thought his head was going to explode at one point because his face was so red. At one point my mother started to go upstairs to the bathroom where she had my "belt" and "napkins" all ready, and I followed her telling her about the great strides Kotex had made in the sanitary product realm. Finally she agreed to send my poor father to the store to see if the "stick-on kind" were real. My dad practically ran out of the house. He probably smoked 15 cigarettes on the way to Jewel.

Twenty minutes later he came in the house with two full paper grocery bags. I swear, he bought every single variety of pads out there...and they were all "stick-on". (You would have thought, with the amount of soap operas my mother watched while ironing she would've seen a plethora of commercials for this product. I mean, come on! Kotex had to have had a million ads on during "As The World Turns". I mean, that was their target demographic!)

Anyway, I ran upstairs to stick the stupid thing on and go to school. My mom's advice to me that day was...Don't wear pants or everyone will be able to tell you are "menstruating". What the hell? I guess when you have on the "belt" it would be pretty easy to tell if you wore pants (see above picture if you have any doubt) but I felt safe enough with my stick ons under my Calvins.

So, I made it through my day at school unscathed. But all that ended when I got home. My mom and dad told me to get in the car at about 4:00 because we were going out to dinner. That, in and of itself, wasn't so weird. We went out for dinner upwards of 4 times a week. You see, my dad was a stockbroker who made great money and my mom was a shitty cook. (I remember one year for my birthday my parents asked me where I wanted to go for dinner and I said, "How about home?" because it was such a novelty. We did stay home that year but, ironically enough, we ordered in.) So, we got in the car and off we went. I asked my dad where we were going and he grumbled, "Ask your mother." This was not a good sign. "Mom....?" I asked.

"Oh! Well, we're going to Benihana's," she chirped.
Well, I didn't know why my dad was so bent out of shape about that. Benihana is like dinner and a show because it's one of those places where a bunch of people sit around a hot grill and the chef cuts up your food right in front of you and cooks it and then flips it on your plate. It's like stir-fry. I was pretty happy about this until we got in the parking lot and I saw my sister and her brand new husband waiting for us. When I asked my mom what they were doing there she said, "They're having dinner with us. I asked your brother and Jean too, but they couldn't make it. (pause) Did you tell your sister your news....? You know, about, um, well...menstruating?"

At that point I knew I was doomed. My mom had planned this whole thing as a "celebration dinner" for God's sake. The only saving grace was that my brother and his wife weren't there too, or at least I thought. You see, at these places they seat 7 or 8 people around a grill. So, there was my mom, my dad, me, my sister and her husband. That's 5. So they seated two total strangers at our table. A young couple. On a date. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but, you see, after dinner the chef disappeared and came back with a cake. With candles on it. I looked around to see if it was some one's birthday, but no. He set the fucking cake right in front of me. It had writing on it that said, "Congratulations Carolyn". I wanted to take the big-ass knife he had prepared our dinners with and plunge it in my chest. The chef just stood there, because you don't have to sing "Happy Birthday" at this particular occasion. I didn't know what to do. The total-stranger girl-on-a-date at our table said, "Oh! Congratulations? What is the occasion?" While I had my eyes shut, praying to God that my mother would make up something or that my stupid sister would save me from further humiliation, I heard my mother say, "Carolyn became a woman today!"
I opened my eyes and watched the girls face go from confusion to a dawning understanding to utter horror. Her hapless boyfriend was still confused and started to say, "What?" when his girlfriend whispered in his ear and he turned bright red.
Needless to say, I have never been back to Benihana.

So...I told this whole story (keep in mind we are still standing in my driveway) to my friend and her daughter, C, who had just gotten her period. When I was done, my friend was practically peeing her pants she was laughing so hard. C was just standing there with her mouth open, staring at me in complete disbelief. She said to me, "What did you do?"
I looked at her and said, "I really don't remember, but right now I'm going inside and baking a cake!!" and I ran in the house with her running behind me yelling, "Noooo!!!!"

By the way, the couple who sat at out table both had big fat pieces of my "period cake".

A family story

2007-08-27T19:56:00.000-06:00

Isn't that a beautiful picture of my daughters and my parents? It was taken 2 Easters ago. Why they are all crammed on that little velvet love seat, I'll never know. But, here is the point.

My Dad has Alzheimer's. Not only is it really, really sad...it just totally sucks. My kids don't know the intelligent man who helped raise me. (I say "helped" raise me, because, let's face it...I raised myself.) Over the past few months his decline has gained incredible momentum. I find that he can't even complete a sentence anymore. Well, he can...but it is always something like, "Your mom is in the trees," or "I was going in the bag." (Actually, now that I think about it, the second sentence does make sense. He has a colostomy and so if he is "going" so to speak, he is doing it in a bag!)

Anyway...I do the Alzheimer's walk every year in Chicago. It is to raise money for the Alzheimer's association. But, you all know me well enough to know that I don't do it for completely altruistic reasons. I do it for the t-shirt.

No, I do it because I am surrounded by people who all have loved ones who are dying of this terrible disease. They have t-shirts with pictures of their loved ones emblazoned on their chests. They gather in groups to talk about their mom, dad, gramma, aunt.... Everywhere you look someone is looking at your shirt to see if you are walking "In Honor of" someone or (sadly) "In Memory of". We are all the same in our longing to do something to help because we can't fix our loved one. Honestly, the whole experience gives me a whole new appreciation of AA. It must be comforting for a drunk to be surrounded by others who are struggling too. Plus, afterward you've got a whole group of people who really, really want to go out for a cocktail.

Here is the link to my donation page:

http://chicagomemorywalk.kintera.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=224903&u=224903-47598405&e=1224718198

Feel free to visit and just read the story I wrote. Even better; pony up some cash and support me. Better yet, pray for me and my family. (But pony up some cash too.) Last year I surpassed my lofty goal...and the best part was, no less than three of my ex-boyfriends pledged more than my husband did, which made him look like a total chump. But, he did get the girl so I guess he got the last laugh, didn't he? In any case, my husband is far from a total chump, as you can see from the picture. Last year he and the girls came on the 5K with me and he had to carry Bronte on his shoulders the whole way. Tony rocks!

I wish this picture was bigger so you could really see how freakin' great my hair looked. My shirt says "Supporting my Dad, Bob Geddis" which my oldest, dearest friend had made for me the year I did the walk the first time. Plus, look at how cute my damn kids are! We are like the All American Family, except for Tony's tie-died shirt which makes him look like a stoned Dead fan who wandered on the beach and scored a photo op with some normal people.

So, go to my Donation Page. Please.

Cut my damn hair, woman!!

2007-08-26T13:13:00.000-06:00

Is it just me, or does Kate Hudson's kid, Ryder, look miserable? And, why the hell is he in a stroller? He's three and a half years old...he's got legs, right? When my kids hit a year and a half, they walked everywhere. I didn't care if it took me twice as long to get through the mall, I wasn't going to push those kids around in a stupid stroller. Did you ever notice how OBNOXIOUS stroller moms are in the mall? They throw a bunch of Goldfish on the stroller tray and then push their stroller into people's shins and try to fit between clothing racks they have no business trying to get their Peg Perego Deluxe Pram through in the first place. Meanwhile, their kid is whipping soggy half-eaten Goldfish at anyone stupid enough to get within 4 feet of them. Stroller moms are one of the biggest reasons I don't go to the mall anymore.

In any case, back to Kate Hudson...why does she feel like she needs to date men who don't bathe everyday. C'mon, Kate! You deserve better! He last husband...that guy from The Black Crows must've been great in bed because (as Tony says) he really out-kicked his coverage. Either that or she was SERIOUSLY wasted when he asked her to marry him. Or maybe she just feels so bad that she doesn't have any boobs and she doesn't think she deserves any better than the "unwashed". ( Honestly, the girl is almost completely devoid of breasts. I really don't see the big deal with boobs, but I've always been lucky in the "breast arena" so I can't really relate to how the lack of them might feel.)

The fact remains...that child is too old to be in a damn stroller. Plus, he needs a haircut. The fact that his hair is still so long and he looks completely ridiculous is bordering on child abuse. Good thing Britney and KFed are around to deflect the attention from poor Ryder who is obviously a legless sissy-boy.

Gonna Take Your Momma Out All Night...

2007-08-24T20:27:00.000-06:00

I wish I knew how to put pictures of myself on my blog. I love to go to my friend Jim's blog (see the link to Jim's Notes under my favorite blogs) and look at his pictures! Today he has some really fabulous ones of him mugging for the camera as only a gay man can. I have never seen anyone take advantage of a photo op like Jim. Here is what it must be like to walk down the street with Jim.

Carolyn: "So then this stupid bitch in my Bible study starts to talk about her big old King James and...

Jim: "WAIT!!! There's a huge pyramid of oranges over there! Take my camera!"

Carolyn: "WHY? I was just getting to the part when I opened my jacket to reveal my "Jesus is my Homeboy" t-shirt!"

Jim: "Whatever! If I stand in just the right way, I will totally look like Carmen Miranda!"

Anyway, Jim has all these really great pictures on his blog and I don't even know how to work my daughter's digital camera...either of my daughter's digital cameras. Yes, even my 6 year old has a digital camera. They love to taunt me about my lack of digital camera know-how. Whenever I take a photo of them with my regular camera they ask if they can see it and then they say, "Oh. That's right. We have to wait for them to be developed." That's when I launch into my "Well, when I was a kid we didn't have digital cameras. We had to wait 24 hours to get our photos back," and the kids gasp at the HORROR of having to WAIT for something.

I can, however, take photos off the Internet and post them on my blog. I have gotten really good at that. The two pictures of me from the church picnic were actually from someone else's website. I stole them. I'm not sorry. Right after I figured out how to steal them and put them in my blog I celebrated. I went up to my kitchen and blasted The Scissor Sisters CD really loud and danced in the living room. Now, every time I listen to The Scissor Sisters I dance and think, "I am such a great dancer! I could have been a professional dancer if my mother had only let me take dance instead of piano. I could have been a Solid Gold Dancer, for God's sake!" At that point I usually pull a muscle in my groin or look out the window to see the post-man laughing his ass off in my front yard. In any case, since I can't entertain you with photos of myself...

Get your fat ass to Rehab

2007-08-16T08:20:00.000-06:00

Memo to Britney Spears:
Sweetie,
I would look better in that outfit than you do. Please, put some clothes on (and not the crap you usually wear in public).
Sincerely,
Carolyn

Honestly, I never thought I would say this (let alone CARE) but I think Kevin Federline ought to get full custody of his kids. He may not be the ideal parent, but at least he keeps his clothes on in public. Really, if Brit wanted to strip down in front of the cameras she should have done it when she was skinny. Not drunk and bloated. Why do I care so much about this? I don't really. But it's like a car accident in your front yard...of course you are going to look. Because she is imploding in front of our eyes we all feel the right to an opinion. Here is mine:

She was a no-talent from day one.
She is only as pretty as the 5th prettiest girl in my high school.
I don't care if she ever whines her way through another pathetic re-make of a song no one liked in the first place.

My daughter has a copy of "Britney Spears Greatest Hits" and she likes to dance to it. Now, I have heard that CD upwards of 5,000 times and I still can't tell what the appeal ever was. She sounds like she's "singing" (and I use that word VERY loosely) with nose plugs on. She does a duet with Madonna and, honest to God, she makes Madonna sound like a genius. (Don't get all over my case about this. Madonna's talent is marketing. She isn't the crappiest singer I've ever heard--Britney is...pay attention--but she isn't fabulous.) So, what was her appeal?? I get the whole "budding gay icon" thing, but usually the gays choose more wisely. She's pathetic. She was never that pretty, or that edgy, or that ANYTHING.
However, I do feel bad for her kids. I don't know what happens when they are with K-Fed but it can't be as bad as what happens when they are with Britney. She takes them on boat rides sans life jackets, she gives them Coke in their baby bottles, she almost drops them because she's drunk in high heels (yeah for the bodyguard!). Come on! How much of that can you chalk up to "I'm country, y'all!"???? Does "country" equal "stupid"? As far as I'm concerned, everyone in America with a southern accent ought to sue Britney for defamation of character.

Freaky Friday

2007-08-14T09:10:00.000-06:00

Friday was not a good day in "Carolyn World". I started out the day by taking care of my dad while my mother went and did something else. That, in and of itself, was not so bad, although I admit it is frustrating having to explain over and over that no one is going to come and pick us up and take us to work, or answer the question, "Who are you?" for the 100th time. I think that the only reason I can take care of Dad and not be really, really sad the entire time is because he and I were never especially close. I never doubted that my father loved me and I love him too, but we didn't ever really talk. I remember when I was a freshman in high school and I tried out for the softball team. I was, undoubtedly, the best short-stop in the entire freshman class but I knew I was screwed when I saw who the softball coach was. It was the band director, Mr. L. I was in the band too and Mr. L and I had a mutual dislike of each other. I thought he was a complete and utter asshole and he thought I was a disrespectful bitch. Turns out we were both right. Time has shown that I do not show respect to those who don't earn it and I don't think that even those who love me the most would hesitate to back up the "bitch" claim. Whatever. I would rather be called a "bitch" than have people say, "Oh, that Carolyn! She's so nice." Who, in their right mind, wants to be labeled nice? Boring. It just shows no imagination or passion. I would WAAAYYY rather have people call me a "bitch" than declare that I'm some simpering nice person. I think that mission has been accomplished.

Anyway, I was right about Mr. L too because he got fired when I was a sophomore. Turns out he was having a sexual affair with a senior. I remember thinking it wasn't that big of a deal to me because she was a total slut who slept with everyone. I bet the straight male faculty members were nervous the day Mr. L got busted because it easily could have been one of them getting "blown" in the band-room. In any case, I wanted to think that it was divine retribution on Mr. L for being unfair to me during the freshman softball try-outs, but it probably wasn't. So, when I tried out for the freshman softball team I was really the best short-stop in the freshman class. Everyone agreed that I was going to be the starting short-stop for the freshman team and waiting for the team list to be posted was just a formality. Well, Mr. L was probably pissed off at me because I rolled my eyes when he announced that we were going to play "Rhapsody in Blue" at the spring concert (I don't like "Rhapsody in Blue" and I loudly whispered to the second chair clarinet that I thought it was an unimaginative choice) so he put me on the "B" team.

Well, the team roster was posted first thing in the morning on a Friday and so I had to go all day in school harboring that disappointment and tolerating all the kind remarks from those who felt I should have been the starter, blah, blah, blah. I didn't want to give Mr. L the satisfaction of reacting. Needless to say, by the time I got home I was ready to burst. Unfortunately, my mother was at work and my dad was stuck with me. I walked in the house, burst into tears and told my dad that Mr. L was a jerk and I should be on the "A" team and that it wasn't fair. Keep in mind that I am hysterically crying the whole time. Of course my dad totally freaks out and has no idea what to say. He tells me to just go out there and try my hardest and show Mr. L that he made a mistake. He tells me that being on the "B" team is still very, very good. He tells me that I can always work my way up to the "A" team. I respond to all of these comments by screeching and crying harder and saying that he "just doesn't get it".

So, my dad does the one thing he knows always makes my mother feel better when she is upset. He takes me shoe shopping. By the time my mother comes home from work I am sitting in the living room surrounded by boxes of new shoes. No kidding, I think he got me 6 pairs of shoes. I specifically remember getting the same pair of Nike shoes in two different colors. She turned to my dad, who was sitting on the couch with a blank stare, shaking his head and asked, "What happened here?" My dad said something like, "Mr. L. Big jerk. Didn't make first string. Crying. Shoes," which my mom completely understood and she got down on the floor and hugged me. She then admired my new shoes, agreed that Mr. L was a complete asshole and we ate potato chips for dinner.

So, as you can see, my father was a good dad. We just didn't have those touching heart-to-heart talks that some of my friends claim to have had with their fathers.

Enough about that...back to my crappy day on Friday. I took care of my dad all morning, which didn't suck, but I couldn't leave his side because if I did he would start wandering around the house trying to get out to "find someone". So I had to sit in the family room watching the Golf Channel for 4 hours. After my mother came and got him, I decided to take the kids to the pool. That was actually fun because I have decided that even though none of the other moms go on the big water slides it doesn't mean that I can't if I want to. Despite the fact that the first person I saw at the pool was "The Disco Queen" from my Groove class (she looked satisfyingly shitty in her bathing suit, by the way) and the second person I saw was the mom that I can't stand (the one who always points out how the two of us are the oldest moms of kids in the Kindergarten class) I had fun. So much, in fact, that I decided to take the kids to Ben and Jerry's for ice cream on the way home! Yippeee!! I was even going to have real-live ice cream instead of the sorbet I usually have in a misguided attempt to save calories.

Here's where my day went wrong. We ate our ice cream, got in the car, and I promptly backed into another car parked in the lot. There was damage...but not to my stupid Durango...to the car I backed into...a fucking Porsche. Needless to say, the mid-life crisis bald man to whom the car belonged came running out of Ben and Jerry's with his boob-job girlfriend, looked at his dented bumper and said, "Oh shit." I immediately burst into tears and kept saying how sorry I was. His girlfriend kept saying, "It's okay. It could be worse. No one was hurt. It's not that bad!" and I was so pathetic, I actually took comfort from that!

Okay, so I give the guy all my information and we leave. When we get home, Brenna gets her Jr. High class schedule out of the mailbox, opens it and immediately calls her friends to find out if they have the same homeroom so she can find a suitable locker partner. Of course, none of her friends have the same homeroom, so she is sad and scared and disappointed and pissed. I should have taken her shoe shopping, but instead we go out for Chinese food. Brenna is not the kind of kid who cries out her disappointment...she gets pissy and takes it out on me. That doesn't go over really well. So, at one point during dinner at The Fortune Kookie I get up from the table and go to the bathroom after announcing that "I just can't take it anymore!" By the time I calm down and head back to the table, I return to find Brenna crying and admitting she is scared. That makes me feel like a big ol' shitball. If I hadn't been so hungry at that point, I would have grabbed her and gone to Nordstrom's and bought us both 6 pairs of shoes.

Not that there's anything wrong with that....

2007-08-02T07:48:00.000-06:00

Now I am engrossed in another children's book. Actually, it is intended for young adults, which means it is barely a step above a children's book.It is called "Twilight" and it is a love story. It's about a girl who moves to Washington State to live with her father (because she's been living with her mother) and falls in love with a boy in her new high school. He falls in love with her too, but he has a little secret....he's a vampire. It sounds really stupid, but it's been amazingly good so far. The boy she falls in love with is supposed to be beautiful (as befits a vampire) and I just keep picturing Brad Pitt in Legends of The Fall. In any case, the book is really well written and it makes me feel like I got ripped off in high school. I feel like I totally would have gone for the hot vampire when I was 17, regardless of the risks. But I didn't. I dated the same guy for both my junior and senior year. Rick. He went to a different high school than I did and I think that there was some doubt among my peers that he actually existed. I mainly dated him for his car. It was a beautiful green Mach I with a stick shift and an 8 track player.

So, he broke up with me at prom and I was pissed! I had been asked by at least 6 other guys in my class and turned them all down to go with Rick. I told him to just leave and I would get a ride home with someone else. So he did leave, sort of. He left the hotel where the prom was being held and sat in his car in the parking lot and waited for me to come out. He probably masturbated, the horny bastard. In any case, I did finally come out but I had already found another ride home (with one of the most popular guys in my class. I convinced him to ditch his date and hang out with me instead. He was, alas, not a vampire though.) and I told Rick, basically, that I didn't care how fine his car was I was not going to have sex with him. I wasn't going to have sex with anyone that night. At this point, the guy I was now with was probably really bummed. The girl he took to prom probably would have done him, and now he was stuck with me!

In any case, I did eventually have sex. (Not that night...please!) My first experience was so terrible that I started crying right afterwards, turned to my boyfriend and said, "I'm sorry I'm a lesbian." Seriously. It was just awful. Little did I know that the reason I hated it so much was entirely HIS fault. When I tried it again I went for an older man who I thought would have more experience. (I really didn't want to be a lesbian. As I once heard a female comedian say, "I can't be a lesbian. I don't even like licking stamps.") Well, it turned out that he didn't have a lot more experience, but the experience he did have he put to REALLY good use. Plus he had a lot of enthusiasm and I was young enough to not have any weird hang-ups about my body or anything. I should probably call him and thank him sometime. Not that I wouldn't have been a really good lesbian or anything, I love women in general and would rather look at a naked woman than a naked man (they're prettier) but I just don't want to kiss them.

Us church people know how to PARTY!!

2007-07-26T10:40:00.001-06:00

I thought I would just show everyone how much fun we have at church. This picture is from the Youth Picnic and I am participating in the "Poor Man's Dunking Booth". The 'dunker' got a bucket of water and the 'dunkee' sat in a folding chair. How close the chair was to the 'dunker' wielding the bucket depended on how many beanbags the 'dunker' got into a cut-out clown's mouth. In any case, I had no idea how many youth had it out for me! I got really wet, as you can see...but my fabulous orange shoes survived! The chocolate syrup on my shirt is the result of another game. Needless to say there wasn't enough Oxyclean in my laundry room to save that cute little yellow t-shirt. Anyway, I got my hair cut yesterday so it no longer looks like it does in the picture. Now it is an inch long on top and shorter every where else. It is 'wash and go' and totally fabulous.