Sunday, February 27, 2011

Ben and Jerry Meet an Untimely End

While grocery shopping the other night, my husband sent me a text requesting ice cream.  I'm super giving and lovely, so I threw the ice cream in the cart.  When we were unloading groceries he put it into the freezer and I moved on with my life, stupidly assuming the ice cream would not hurt us.  I'm such a fool.  Remember, this house is trying to kill us?

Soon after, I innocently tried to get ice out of the ice maker for my water.  And I couldn't understand why it was making a choppy noise, yet no ice was coming out.  About an hour later I hear from the kitchen,  


Oh, God!  Oh, honey, no! 

My heart stopped for a moment as I thought surely something happened to one of our children to illicit such a response from him, but no, he was pleading to God about his ice cream.  

You see, he had put the Ben and Jerry's INTO OUR ICE MAKER doo hickey.  

Why?  Oh, it's hard to say.   Why did I once leave a washcloth blocking the drain in the bathroom sink and then forget to turn off the faucet in one of my old apartments?  


These things can't be explained sometimes.  We can only clean up the disastrous messes left in the wake of our bad decisions.  


And in my case, the neighbor in the apartment below must also clean up the disastrous messes left from my bad decisions.  

But I'd like you to see what his decision resulted in, but please prepare yourselves....it is brutal to view ice cream violated in this manner:


                                         

                                     
                   Notice that he still ate it.  This is why he's my soul mate.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Facebook Friday Yo

All the Facebook status' that I didn't have the time to make this week, and that you never really cared to know.  But you're here now, so you may as well read anyway.


1.)  This week I painted my daughter's finger nails. It was the first time I painted her fingernails anything other than the cheapy sparkly kind of nail polish that doesn't look like anything because we had a rule that she needed to wait until she was five.  You know, because then she'd be capable of making the kind of sound decisions you need to make with painted nails.  So we painted them bright red, all floozy like, and a few hours later she said to me.  "Mom, I haven't even picked my nose once since you painted my nails". 


If that's the case, I can think of several people in my life whose nails I am going to start painting.


2.)  What would you do if one day you came to my blog and there was a whole page of this:
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.  
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.  
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.  
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.
       All work and no play makes Amanda a dull girl.




3.)  You know what's taken me by surprise?  The amount of opportunities female bloggers find to use the word vagina.  Now, I'm not upset by the word in anyway.  I grew up with a dad who is a gynie and a step-mother and sister-in-law who are OBGYN nurses, so my family is all about the lady bits.  Hell, the female special no no area helped put me through college!  So, you can see we are a vagina loving people.  
                            Plus, my step-mother totally bought this Georgia O'Keeffe:  
What's the opposite of phallic?

                           But the sheer volume of vagina posts surprise me.  That's all.


4.)  Hey- check this out!  JC Little from The Animated Woman drew me!  She was inspired by this post featuring me as a moron at Target! 


                                                              




Notice the dart pen and curly hair.  I like it.  


5.)  I had THE best idea for a strip club.  Now, I don't like strip clubs and I don't patron them as a worker or a gawker, but a good idea is a good idea.  I think someone should come up with a strip club where all the ladies are dressed in the various outfits that Princess Leia wore in the Star Wars movies.  And all the nerds fans who flock to see her in her gold bikini can dress up as the bizarro characters.  Good stuff, huh?  You're welcome world.  I'm a wealth of ideas.  I'm sure a similar idea would work the Star Trek nerds fans too.


So there you go.  


 Happy Friday, kids!  

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Day Target Hated Me

Like most sane people, I've had a life long love affair with Target. 

Like Walmart you can walk in and buy anything imaginable, but unlike shopping at Walmart, Target won't make you want to stab your eye with a pen.  Also unlike Walmart, you will go in for the basics and come out with at least $75.00 worth of stuff every time.  

You may arrive with the goal of quickly grabbing some shampoo, but you will depart with multi-vitamins for your dog, a picture frame, a turtleneck, a box of cereal, sun tan lotion and a new table for your entryway.  So magical a place is Target, that you can even bring your husband or boyfriend, and they can play with the hooked up game systems while you pick out 3 pairs of flip flops you don't need.

Target is pretty and shiny and we get a contact high just from being near all their grand Method products.  

I'm pretty sure when I die I want my ashes to be scattered through a Target, hopefully near the pajama aisle.  And I want all my loved ones to wear khaki pants and red polo shirts.

However, I almost ruined Target for myself in my early 20's.  

I woke up one morning to the phone ringing.  It was Target.   

Is this Amanda?  

Yes

We need you to come down to the store as soon as possible.

OK, why?  

There is a problem with the check you wrote.

What?  I had a terrifying social work salary, true, but I didn't bounce checks.  

And he had not said it nicely, he used an accusatory tone.  Someone from Target was mad at me! 

Instead of changing and looking like a person that did not bounce checks, I opted to wear my pajama pants. I had recently graduated from college and this practice was not slapped out of me yet.  

Kids, there's a finite amount of time where you can get away with this, then it becomes sort of trashy.  When that happens, don't panic, you just go to Target and buy black yoga pants.  Black yoga pants will be the pajama pants of your adulthood.

So, with my stomach churning about why Target was mad at me, I drove to the store.  I thought back to the day before, when I stopped there to buy socks.  So I bought socks, sheets, a t-shirt and face cream of course.  I could not figure out what had happened that would cause Target to stalk me at home.

I walked over to the customer service area, as I had been instructed on the phone by the hateful Target jerk.   I told them my name and said I had been contacted about a problem with my check.  The customer service woman's face perked up at my description and I could tell that all of Target had been talking about me.  

My BFF Target was gossiping about me!  I was starting to get irritated and gathered up all my dignity and acted as though I was someone who didn't care about Target hating me....and then they showed me my check.  



It looked like this:




                               Amanda A. Target
Now, it's important that you know my last name began with a T and had 6 letters to it.  I also remember that as I was writing the check I was busy judging this woman with two children throwing fits (don't worry lady, I got my payback 8 years later with my own children), and in my distraction and judgement I had signed my last name as Target.  Which, I'm sure, made it seem to Target that I was trying to just rip them off.  


You could argue that the person who took my check should have noticed, and that's fine.  I'm the type of person who signs my checks Amanda A. Target, so I don't get to judge the check out lady.  

You can pick your favorite thing about this, but personally I love that I added the middle initial.  To me, that really propels what I had done from stupid to just plain douchetastic.  So awesome was I, while shopping at Target, that I needed to add my middle initial to make it extra fancy.  

So, there you go.  That happened.




Hey!  Check this out- JC Little from The Animated Woman was inspired by this post and drew me!  Click on that link and check out her website!  
                     Here's my pic:


     
                                                                                                        
                 
Hey!  Check me out here too :
Curvy Girl Guide


Front page whooo-hoooooooooo!



Sunday, February 20, 2011

Marriage Means Never Having to Say Anything Meaningful

When I was a kid, I always thought that by the time I was married I would be mature. 


I pictured two people having a quiet breakfast in a lovely breakfast nook (what the hell is a nook, really?) while sharing the local paper and the New York Times.  I'm not sure why I thought I would have Diane Sawyer's marriage, but I did.


As it turns out, marriage is sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld & drinking wine on a Saturday night while conversing about things so trivial that it confirms your thought that your brains have turned into marshmallows from the constant battering of daily life.


So instead of discussing Egypt and local elections like I pictured, our Saturday nights sound like this:




Watching Princess Diaries (oh whatever, you know you like it too)

Me:  Honey, do you think maybe I'm a princess and don't know?

Him:  Well, yes....because I am secretly a prince.

Me:  Wait....if I didn't know I was a princess and you are secretly a prince and we marry and both didn't know the other was royalty.... wouldn't that mean we were related and then got married?  Like in Appalachia?  

Him:  No, you married me and I knew I was a prince.  I made you a princess.

Me:  Wait!  What the hell?!  No, that's not how this is going to be, this was my thing.  I was the famous princess and I married you, the lowly commoner. Because I am all humble and of the people and stuff.

Him:  Ok, whatever.

-----------------------------------------------------------


Me:  Ouch, I almost fell on my slippers. 

Him:  Really?  It looked like you almost fell on your ass!

Me:  No, you are over there, I couldn't fall on you.

We both laugh like we are the most hilarious people to ever live.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Me:  Why was it decided that women could have their privacy while going to the bathroom, but for men it would be like a free for all?

Him:  .......what, Amanda?

Me:  Why do women all get stalls, but men have this situation where they have to pee en masse?  

Him:  Well I could see why in stadium situations.

Me:  Yes, me too.

Him:  I'm not sure why they can't all have the stall dividers though, those are the best.  

Me:  Is it ever weird peeing by each other?  Or are guys just used to it?

Him:  You know, it is weird.  There are rules and difficult situations.  When you walk in the bathroom and there are say....four stalls, you walk in and quickly have to ascertain who you think is furthest along with urination.  Because if there are four stalls, and you walk in on two guys peeing, they will have picked the furthest urinals from each other, so you have to now choose who to stand by.  You have to choose carefully because if you pick the wrong guy, you could be left standing there side by side. If a guy walks in and sees four stalls and two guys standing right next to each other, you feel weird.

Me:  Wow, it is tricky business.

Him:  Yeah.

------------------------------------------------------------

You know what?  I bet Diane Sawyer and her husband discuss urinals and call each other asses too.  Those things just tend to come up.  

Friday, February 18, 2011

My Thing is Back

Remember how I have a thing now?  


I know, you can't even believe I just asked if you remember because you've been counting down the minutes all week until Facebook Status Friday.  You need to watch that you know, you must still concentrate on your work and homes lives lest you lose it all simply waiting for Friday Facebook each week.  If you really need your fix, you can just jump into my archives and swim through.  I mean, I've been blogging for like a month so there are literally tens of posts to read.


Look what Mark Zuckerberg looked like when I told him, in person, that I was going to be doing Facebook Status Friday:
Calm down, big guy.  
                                       


Here we go:


1.)  Yesterday, while in a play area crowded with parents and children, my daughter yelled to another kid, "Don't touch my baby sister's face!  She has pink eye!".  This caused every parent in the room to look at me with a face like this:
                                             
She does not currently have pink eye, so that was awesome.  She was treated and is fine now.  Also, when you try and back track and say your kid does not have pink eye- no one believes you, FYI.  You are better off just running out of the emergency exits.


2.)  On that note, my stats show me that recently someone came upon my blog after googling "Second round of pink eye".  I'm so proud!  Then, I checked my Twitter account and noticed I'd been put on a new list.  I was all "Of course they did, I'm awesome!" and while gloating I clicked on the list to see if it said "Best blog ever" or "I wish my blog was like this one!".  Nope, it said "Dad Blogs".  
Between showing up in a search for ongoing pink eye issues and being called a man, I'm starting to think I'm not quite accomplishing with my blog what I had hoped.


3.)  Gov. Scott Walker, remember how you went to school for years and all those teachers and education helped you become the successful condescending asshole  politician that you are today?   Yeah, I would not hold your breathe on that "Scott Walker Day" event at your alma maters.


4.)  After all the wishing and hoping we did that The Bachelor's Brad would wake up and see that Michelle beating him with her fists and acting controlling was actually an indicator that she's psycho, was anyone else surprised at how sad it was to see her go?  The rest of the girls all get along and hug each other.  Booooring.


5.)  You need something at work to pass the time until you can stop surfing the net and go home.  Here is an oldie, but a goodie that you need to revisit:  


Alanis Morissette sings Fergie's My Humps






Happy Friday!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

I'm the Reason Texas Can't Have Nice Things

Crazed Fan Weekend Hop


I have been to Texas two times in my life.


The first trip I made to Texas was during a college J-term trip.  For those of you who do not know what a J-Term is, I shall explain.  It occurs in January, directly between the two main semesters, where you take an intense look at a specific subject.  That's probably how they would write it up in the brochures.  College students think of it as the time after Christmas break when you wear pajamas, play video games and drink constantly.  Oh, and you skip go to a 4 hour class. Rinse and repeat daily for 4 weeks. 


I'm not that bright.  So instead of staying on campus and lazing about in the drunken stupor to which I had become accustomed, I always opted to take a J-term trip.  This didn't just magically happen, I worked very hard during the summers doing jobs so horrifying at times that they will take up entire posts themselves, just to afford these trips.  Sometimes I look back on how much I paid for the trips, and the incidents that ensued, and think I am truly a sucker.


J-term provided many travel options, both stateside and abroad.  For my sophomore year, I decided to go on a backpacking trip through Big Bend National Park in Texas.


This made a lot of sense, because I had rarely camped, never hiked, hated not showering, and I loved my bed.  But, somehow I was drawn to this particular adventure.  So off I went and bought tons of gear in a giant sports store called "Dick's Sporting Goods", where I proceeded to giggle every time I saw the name and super hard when I had to write out the check.


I did have some moments of hesitation.  I mean, I had been kicked out of the girl scouts (we'll chat about that another day).  When I had to buy water purifying tabs for the times we would not be near a base camp for awhile, I thought "What the hell are you thinking, stupid?".  When I bought everything off the list and purchased a back pack the size of three people to store it in, I thought, "What the hell are you thinking, stupid?".  When I found out that we had to dig a hole with a shovel in order to go to the bathroom, I thought, "Can I get my deposit back on this trip?".  Sadly, the answer was no.  So off I went to dig some holes and climb some mountains.


Surprisingly, the trip ended up being one of the absolute best times of my life.  True...now I would be more likely to live in the Flavor of Love House than to ever camp again for 3 weeks.
Flavor of Love tv show photo
Klassy!


But I look back on the trip fondly.  Not only was it good for the soul and body, THERE WERE SO MANY CUTE BOYS!   (Whatever honey, you can't get mad.  I saw you when we watched Katy Perry on How I Met Your Mother this week.  I thought I needed to staple your tongue to your forehead.)


The trip was a welcome challenge, but it was COLD.  Bone chilling cold from record low temps.  Yes, I am from the midwest, however you may find it interesting to know that we do not live outside in igloos.  This was tent camping and while the days were warmish, the desert cooled down considerably at night and it was freezing.


At first I thought, no problem, because I had a sleeping bag from Dick's (hee!) that stated if it was a gillionty degrees below zero I would be totally fine, because it was such a superb sleeping bag.  Let me tell you, Dick is a liar and is not to be trusted. 


I wore everything I had smashed into that hiking pack, including a ski cap and gloves and I still shook from the freezing cold all freaking night.  I didn't want to cry, lest my face freeze to my pillow, but that is the only reason I did not. 


It really did wonders for my hair, which at its best is huge and curly, but when not washed and smashed into a ski cap all night I learned that I could create dread locks in a very short amount of time.  Not what you really want with all the cute boys around.  


Although, I'm not sure if my hair had been perfect that it would have mattered.  Have you ever picked up a shovel to go dig a bathroom hole in front of cute boys?  It makes you feel pretty.  Plus, one time I fell down the side of a sand dune on a hike.  I'm pretty sure that didn't do much for me either.  


Luckily, I survived and did not become an Amanda-cicle.  I was happy to leave frigid Texas and get back to the balmy midwest.


My second trip to Texas was a few weeks ago.  You may remember the Super Bowl?  Yes, Texas was an absolute mess.  We left two feet of snow in Wisconsin and woke up in Texas to six inches of snow and sheets of ice on their roads.  Everything shut down- I'm talking right down to Starbucks, people.  Everyone kept saying, "This never happens!"  And I kept quiet, because I knew it was my fault.  Texas only falls apart when I visit.  This time, I nearly took out a freaking Super Bowl with my powers.


Why do I bring this up?  Because two things need to brace themselves immediately:


1.)  My pasty white Irish skin.
2.)  The state of Texas


I hate to tell you Texans....we are relocating to your beloved state.  


Here's my advice to you:
Get to Dick's as soon as you can and stock up on cold weather gear.  But skip the cold weather sleeping bag, because that's total crap.  


Also, buy duct tape, a 3 day supply of water and plastic sheets as the Department of Homeland Security suggests, because once I get there you will be living in high alert at all times.

I'd just like to add that I'm sorry, ahead of time, for whatever weather calamities arise.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Twenty Two Pounds

22 lbs.

Since our daughter was born I have been dreading 22lbs.  

When she was born I was determined to make breastfeeding work.  I spent two and a half days in the hospital with lactaction consultants, and mostly nurses, trying to make it happen.  Finally, I noticed a nurse put a surgical glove on and put her index finger in Evelyn's mouth.  It seemed odd, yes, but you have to remember I was post partum which meant a myriad of crazy things were already going on in that hospital room.  A part of me thought something of it, but I pushed it down.  She was born totally fine, we'd already assured that through various tests and a pediatrician check up.  

What I did not know was that the nurse had come to a conclusion when she put her gloved finger in my newborn's mouth, and when she left she called a pediatrician to come back the next day and confirm.

I really hope people understand how crucial nurses are to our medical care.  We take such care to find the perfect doctor, but in the end it's the nurses that you never had a chance to research, who end up doing the care and often times diagnosing.   

Back to Evelyn's story.  The nurse knew it was not the time to tell me what she had figured out, in case she was wrong, but also because it was in the middle of the night.  It was not an emergency and nothing would be harmed by waiting to the morning, and it saved my sanity.  My husband was home caring for our 5 year old because I had wanted her world to stay as normal as possible, given we had dropped this baby bomb shell into her little life.  So I would have been alone, tired and uneducated in what I needed to know about Evie's special needs.  

The next morning, after another failed round of breastfeeding, I was starting to get very concerned about Evelyn's lack of food intake and her weight loss.  It wasn't dramatic, but it mattered to me.  I was to go home that day and I had a baby that was not taking food.  I had voices from breastfeeding advocates in my head telling me not to introduce the bottle and to push through. I was thankful when another pediatrician came so I could tell her how little Evie had taken in since she was born.   Basically a syringe of colustrum, and that was all.  My nurse was still on duty and she came in with the DR.  I'm grateful for that because she was prepared for my little melt down, and another nurse would not have had my baby on her mind for a few hours.  That mattered to me. 

The doctor explained that she had been called back in and my entire body clenched up and the room seemed to become very small.  

When my older daughter, Nora, was three she was diagnosed with Asthma.  Her breathing was so labored that we were sent from the doctor's office to the children's unit in the attached hospital for meds and around the clock breathing treatments.  We were lucky, it was a very scary situation, but Nora had a treatable issue.  Looking around the children's unit was frightening.  It is a very unnatural thing to see children hooked up to machines and looking too tired to play.  I felt so blessed and lucky that my child was not going to be doing this repeatedly or for a long time.  We left the hospital with an ongoing treatment plan that should help us avoid ever having to return to the hospital.  That is such a blessing.  Such a gift to have a medically care free life with your child.

My mind shot to this with the doctor's words and I was very scared.  She went on to tell me that Evelyn had an abnormality of her soft palate, also known as a cleft palate.  The reason she could not nurse was because she could not create a latch due to the abnormality of her palate.  She also had no stopper between her throat and nose, as a person does normally, so every time she spit up it came out both her nose and mouth.  It also meant that she would need surgery to repair the cleft when she is around 12 months or 22lbs.  

Now, truth be told, while this is far from what you want for your child, it is fixable.  She needs special feeding ,will likely suffer from ear infections from fluids flowing into her Eustachian tubes, 98% born with this issue will require tubes, and after her cleft is repaired she will need speech therapy.  There may be major orthodontic care in her future and a possible second surgery.  


The speech issues will be the next hurtle.  During their first year a child is learning how to make sounds, even though they aren't speaking words.  There are certain sounds Evelyn will not be able to accomplish making until her cleft is repaired, therefore she will have to relearn how to speak in some ways.  It's unknown what speech issues she will have, but she is very similar to her sister, so she will have LOTS of practice talking.  Sadly, the 'duh' sound required to say "daddy" is one she will not be able to say until her cleft repair.  I've decided to try not to dwell on this, and to just look forward to seeing what she comes up with to call her daddy.  Again, that issue will not be forever.

Now, I am calm about all of these issues.  OK, I'm calmish. Learning to feed her and assuring we were getting her enough food was extremely stressful.  She has horrible reflux, which is just bad luck.  But it means, for Evelyn, that she is spitting up a ton through her nose.  Have you ever laughed and had milk come out your nose?  No one would want that to happen 10 or 11 times a day. It hurts. I was terrified to lay her down, worrying about her drowning with spit up coming out of her mouth and nose simultaneously.  I was afraid she wouldn't be able to cry and let me know she was struggling.  So we bought special bottles, numbers of burp cloths, did loads of laundry and my husband sought out a video monitor that would allow us to keep an eye on her and see her when she was, in a rare moment, not in our arms. 

But the truth is this; it is not a heart defect.  It is not cancer.  It is not juvenile diabetes.  Her organs all work.  Those are all lifelong concerns which come with an unknown and difficult path.  This issue has no impact on her developmentally, aside from her speech.  We are so, so lucky. I didn't understand it in that moment.  Then, I cried and cried.  But I know it well now.

But one thing remains hovering around me.  The thing that makes my blood run cold when I remember,in moments when I had just been happily holding her and watching her sleep.  22lbs.  Anesthesia.  A doctor I barely know cutting into a tiny little 22lb body.  What if he stayed up too late the night before reading and reacts a nanosecond to late?  What if the nurse has a cold and my daughter winds up with an infection?  How will they prop her tiny pink mouth open?  And her recovery is horrible.  Days in the hospital.  Arm restraints. She may throw up blood. I've been told I will need to feed her a high caloric diet in the weeks before to prepare for the weight loss.  A weight loss at only 22lbs.


The cold stink of a clean hospital.  

The fact that my mom died from complications of a surgery.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Xtina Fell and I'm in House Selling Hell

Did anyone else see Christina fall tonight at the Grammy Awards?  Yeesh. 


 My favorite Dirrty Girl is having a rough time of it.  First she concentrated so hard on putting 4,835 vocal riffs into the two minutes it takes to sing our beloved National Anthem, that she forgot to sing the words correctly.  Then she went to the Grammys and tripped while paying tribute to Aretha.

Well, Christina, dust yourself off girl.  One time I sneezed and snot flew out of my nose in front of the cute boy I liked.  Another time, I admitted on my blog that I like Christina Aguilera.  See, we all do things that make us look asinine.  Call up your old friend Britney and she can tell you all about the time she was photographed walking out of a nasty gas station bathroom, barefoot and throwing back Cheetos.


In other news, we are going to put our house back on the market again.  Here is a picture of our front yard:

IMG00498-20110211-1353.jpg

Any thoughts on where we should put the for sale sign?  I've got some ideas.  If I had a graphic of Mother Nature, I could show you were I'd like to put it using arrows.  Then I'd like to find a graphic of the current housing market and show you with arrows where I would like to kick it.  I'll give you a hint:  I'd kick it in its crotch.

I've talked about this house before in this post.  I know for a fact the house is trying to kill us, so look forward to many posts proving this as we maneuver through this horrific house selling process.  


Also, during this time that our house is on the market, don't tell me if your house sells.  I will probably create a graphic of you and show on my blog where I'd like to kick you.  I'm super sweet like that.

Friday, February 11, 2011

I've Got A Thing Now (TWHS)

I need a blog "thing".  Other bloggers have guest posts, blog hops, etc. on certain days, thus, I have decided to have Facebook Status Friday. I know, this is truly exciting. Try to remain calm so you can enjoy the rest of the post.

I don’t have time to do the blog thing and the Facebook thing, but I miss posting status’ (statusi?) on Facebook where people are forced to see my blatherings, so I have decided to make that happen here. This is excellent news for anyone that has considered blocking me on Facebook.  

So here are my thoughts for the week that I didn’t have a chance to share there:

1.)  Mubarak supporters:  If you touch my Anderson again, I swear to God I will come and walk like an Egyptian all over your ass.  

2.)  My daughter’s Exer-Saucer is like her morning coffee.  I’m thinking of renaming it The Pooper Saucer.  Is your kid bound up?  Bring him/her right over and we’ll get 'er fixed right up.

3.)  Congressman Christopher Lee: We expect 7th grade girls to photograph themselves in mirrors and send the pictures out because we know they aren't quite right in the head yet.  But, what in the hell are you doing?  Thanks for reiterating my theory that women get way too much crap for going a bit wack-a-doo during the menopause process.  Men of a certain age seem to hit a point in life where their brains evacuate their bodies and are replaced with a disco ball.   I love that you used your own well known name, but you took care to lie about your age.  
The Class- you haz it.


4.) If I was on The Bachelor, and I looked around and saw there was no token crazy girl....well, I would learn a lot about myself in that moment.

5.) Lastly- EGYPT YOU FREAKING ROCK! Keep fighting for the life and freedoms you deserve. The history books are full of revolution stories just like yours.

Happy Friday!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

I Hope My Keys Catch The Pink Eye



I've seen hell.


This is what it looks like:  Being stuck in the house for an entire day with your two small daughters because one had pink eye and could not go to school, only to wake up the next day to find your keys are missing, rendering you unable to meet your friends at the McDonald's Playland where you were hoping you could regain your sanity.  


And can I just point out how sad it is that I was looking forward to going to a McD's Playland at all?  To have something that lame taken away, when it was my only dream for the day, is seriously tragic.  I mean, I put on jeans and everything for this event.  I showered!


On that note, do you know what is super fun?  Giving your child eye drops three times a day for seven days.  It's clear that the genius who came up with this plan had not experienced the dramatics of a 5 year old little girl.  I'm running out of both bribes and the will to live.  It's got me wondering what would be the worst case scenario if pink eye went untreated.  I mean, Helen Keller lived a very full life and she was also deaf and mute.  So really, this would be a step up.  


Of course I'm kidding, I had pink eye once and it is very uncomfortable.  You know how people usually get pink eye from other people in settings like classrooms or work?  Well, that's not how I roll.   I attended camp once as a kid and one of the better parts of the experience were the horse back riding lessons.  And because I always choose the underdog, I chose this little pony named P.J. (Pride and Joy) because no one else wanted him and he was so cute and ugly at the same time.  Like Johnny Depp, he looked like he needed a good scrub.  


P.J. and I had some great lessons and times together.  One morning I woke up and my eyes were crusted shut.  I know, yum.  Turns out, that little bastard P.J. had pink eye and gave it to me. 


I know you don't believe me, so I will provide you with this link.  Can you get pink eye from an animal?


Once when I told this story to co-workers I had to call my dad, who is a doctor, and put him on speaker phone to prove I wasn't full of crap.  Well, for that anyway.  Although, I'm not sure they ever bought it because my dad is an OB/GYN.  


One time my husband tried to convince his co-workers that our kitten had given him a cold.  I think they still give him crap about it.  Now that I put these two stories together, I have to wonder what's wrong with us.


There's no point to this post.  Sorry.  Just pray that tomorrow I can leave my house.



Sunday, February 6, 2011

Mrs. Pool & Gun Stores

So, as I mentioned here, we recently spent a few days in Texas.  I was there because I was one of those glowing, dancing people wearing a box on my head that you saw during the Black Eyed Peas half time show.  Ok, that's a lie.  It was related to my husband's work, but that is all I will say.  Because if we learned anything from 
Dooce, it is that we do not dare discuss our work lives as it may lead to being fired, and then becoming a blogger so successful and famous that both spouses can stay home and live entirely off the blog. 


If my husband and I stayed home together all day long, I think the greatest competition ever would be seeing who could hold off on calling the divorce lawyers the longest.  I'm pretty sure one of us would cave by 10am the first day.  So, for the love of our marriage we don't want to become famous or millionaires.  


I felt an enormous amount of pressure on this trip, knowing the rumors and cliches about Midwesterners are abundant. They think we run around tipping cows while wearing our cheese head hats and talking like the people in the movie Fargo.  Given this, I got off the plane with a great sense of purpose, as I was going to single handedly dispel these goofy thoughts.  I would be the poster child for The New and Improved Awesome Midwesterner.  
Three seconds after the plane landed in Dallas someone strolled by me and dropped their belt, which I picked up and handed back to them.  What a great Midwestern gal I am!  We're so kind!  The person said thank you, and I swear on all that is holy and pure I ACTUALLY SAID "You betcha!".


 I decided to revise my thinking.  So I like cheese and beer and I say 'you betcha'.  Bite me.  


Side note: This reminds me of a story a Wisconsin friend of mine told me.  She was visiting the New Jersey area, where accents are....quite strong, shall we say?  After she had been talking to one particular New Jersey resident he started laughing and said to her, "You guys all sound like Mrs. Pool!".  Remember Mrs. Pool?      
She was also on Ferris Buellers Day Off as the secretary.  "You've been sick niiiine times."  OK, if you don't remember her this sucked.  No, actually you suck, because you should know Mrs. Pool.  


Back to Texas:




With my new found Midwestern sense of self-righteousness, I went on to explore North Texas.  It was a bit of a strange viewing because the area had been slammed with a winter storm, a rarity for them.  But the area was beautiful, even covered in ice and snow.  And the people were so kind, even covered in ice and snow.  


In an effort to dispel stereo types about Texans, I have to tell you that I only saw two cow boy hats and one man carrying a saddle through the airport.  Other than that it was just like anywhere else.  Except for this one thing.....I have to show you what I saw.  This is a store that was right near our hotel.  It was glorious and terrifying all at once.  



Ummmm......I'm not sure what to say, so I'm going to let this be one of those times that a picture speaks for itself.


The only other issue I had was the accent.  I prided myself on the fact that I would hardly notice the accent, as my stepmother is Southern and has lived with my dad in Virginia since I was very young. I've always thought people were slightly goofy when they complained about Southern accents.  This Texas accent, though, was something else entirely.  At times, I felt I probably could have translated Russian with greater ease.  We ordered dinner at a BBQ place (yes!) and we grabbed two bottles of beer.  A lovely young teen girl behind the counter said happily to me, "wouldya'lllackahnahcecoldglassforyerbev-rage?"  It was not just the accent, it was the speed they used while talking in their accent.  I sat there like she had just asked me a math question that required math skills beyond a 4th grade level, while my husband answered for me.  Turns out she had asked me if I would like an ice cold glass for my beverage.  Who could know? 


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I forgot to reveal what my one truth was in this post.  I actually fainted on the Capital steps while Janet Reno recited the Pledge of Allegiance.  I'm sorry it wasn't the Oprah one, I know how badly you needed it to be.  But that wench never calls me.