Friday, June 27, 2008

It's All About Me

It's Friday night. Which a long time ago meant dancing and 2 for 1 Sunburns with Raia. Or it mean hot dates consisting of dinner and a movie with Uberman. Tonight, it's me home with the kids, avoiding the Dirty Little Secret while Uberman is at a happy hour in his honor.

So I am sitting in the office, which is like a sauna due to the huge west facing arcadia door, the 106 degree temperature outside and my cheap ass not wanting to turn the air conditioning down yet. Hello?? It's not 9:00 PM! I can sweat it out two more hours. Literally.

So I was blog browsing. Linking from one to the next to the next. Which is more addictive than peanut butter M&M's or Sudoku. Anyway, I found this meme at Skrinkering Hearts (in a round about way) and I thought it looked pretty cool. So I am gonna do it. But you don't have to. But if you want to, feel free. And let me know because I would like to read yours. Okie dokie?

I know, I know! Two memes in one week. I've been busy people! There's a lot going on in the kingdom. So just quit your whining and start reading. Got it?

Ok. Here goes.

I Am.... Anxious, exhausted, hot (in a temperature way), tired of living in AZ, loud, intuitive, overly critical of myself, a worrier, compassionate, not sure who I am voting for, happy, thankful for my amazing family, fiercely loyal, persistent, persuasive, usually in a good mood (stop laughing Uberman), adventurous, co-dependent, completely frustrated with my lack of organization.

I Want.... A house full of laughter, a pool, more time in the day, more money in the bank, more stamps in my passport, perky boobies, happy kids, a new kitchen table, more patience, a clean house, more energy.

I Have.... the best friends!! The most wonderful family, the cutest nephews, the sweetest kids, a very good life, the most patient and understanding husband, stamps in my passport, a beautiful home, a big booty, high expectations, no patience for stupid people.

I Wish.... I knew the future, cookies had no calories, I didn't have to worry about my electric bill, I were one of those OCD homemakers like Bree on Desperate Housewives, I had the desire to work out, I had thinner thighs.

I Hate.... When my gas light dings, when I do something stupid, confrontation, asking for help, my eyebrows (too arched), sitting in traffic, people who are mean, rap music, a dirty microwave, snootiness, the smell of peas, when my skin feels dry, the neighbors' cat pooping in my yard, folding laundry, lies and/or deceit, condescension, bad manners.

I Fear.... Snakes and reptiles, failure, disappointing people, the economy, screwing up my kids, small confined spaces, not having control, not being good enough.

I Hear.... My incredibly loud children playing and laughing together, the sound of me sighing because I know I am putting off the inevitable (the DLS), the neighbors splashing in their pool, the sound of my air conditioner running, the sound of money flying out the window, coconut cake in the freezer calling my name, my phone vibrating with a text from Uberman - He is having a good time and coming home soon.

I Search.... For flight deals to Italy, for new songs to download, for my leopard print flip flops, for Boo's hair bows, for the best salad in the world, for the perfect eyeshadow, for the good in everyone, for the positive side of the situation, for the perfect gift for my mother in law, for the warm spot in the bed after Uberman gets up, for the cheapest price on cases of diet coke/pepsi.

I Wonder.... What my kids will be like when they grow up, why I am finding it so hard to stick with WW lately, why the world is so fascinated with Spencer and Heidi, if my job is secure, if I will ever feel like a grown up.

I Regret.... Not finishing college, certain financial decisions we made, not being prepared, not standing up for myself, being mean to a certain girl in high school (even though she kind of deserved it), many, many, many things I have said out loud.

I Love.... My adorable Uberman, my sweet little babies, my awesome family and friends, planning parties, going on vacations, the month of December, watching movies, my Tiffany balls, curling up with a good book on a rainy day, baking, the feeling of accomplishment, the smell of a clean house, shopping, celebrity gossip, reading blogs, crafty projects, a good deal, my Toy Watch, lower numbers on the scale, crossing things off my To Do list.

I Ache.... When my babies get their feelings hurt by other kids, after a day spent doing yard work, when someone I love is hurting.

I Always.... Wash my face before going to bed, use moisturizer, have laundry to fold, say Thank You, double check the doors to make sure they're locked, feel terrible when I know I have said something I shouldn't, forget something when I leave the house, wear jewelry.

I Usually.... Trust my instincts, like to make up my own opinion about things, make my bed, check email first thing in the morning, pay my bills the day they are due, am running late, admit when I am wrong, eat breakfast, don't watch the news, worry, have painted toe nails.

I Am Not.... Good at math, ready for my ten year old to go through puberty, afraid of speaking in public, a person who gives up easily, the person who will tell you what you want to hear instead of the truth.

I Dance.... When I get good news, in the car when I am driving down the freeway, with Boo when she watches Annie, with Uberman in the kitchen.

I Sing.... BADLY, in the car, the Backyardigans theme song, the Mickey Mouse Club House song, commercial jingles.

I Never.... Watch Dancing with the Stars, eat cold pizza, drink out of a can without a straw, know what to say in an uncomfortable situation.

I Rarely.... Eat vegetables that are not in a salad, leave the house without forgetting something, finish everything on my To Do list in one day, start Christmas shopping before the day after Thanksgiving, eat something different at a restaurant (I'm a creature of habit), drink beer.

I Cry.... At weddings, when I am angry, when I let someone down, when I am super happy, when I hurt someone's feelings, when I hear or read something sad involving a child or animal, during sappy movies.

I Am Not Always.... Tactful, patient, ready for company, bubbly, understanding.

I Lose.... Keys, track of time when I'm shopping or talking, my patience when my kids are silly, bets with Uberman, pens.

I'm Confused.... When I am in the mall (I never know which direction I am facing), about the war, about the time difference when I am in a foreign country, about commodity trading, about why people love Beyonce.

I Miss.... Krispy Kreme, shopping in Chicago, Luis Gonzalez in left field, my Grandma Green, the weather in Munich, having a dog, the kids being really little, my parents living closer, good friends I don't see as much anymore.

I Should.... Go to church more often, organize my Tupperware cabinet, clean out my refrigerator, update my calendar, worry less about what people think, make cookies, drink more water and less diet coke, catch up on reading my People Magazines.

I Need.... Hugs from my babies, kisses from Uberman, acceptance, diet coke in the morning, to stick with a budget, chocolate, to write more, to take some movies back, new bras and underwear, to color my hair, to file my nails, to stop blogging and finish my DLS.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Say Hello To My Little Secret

What I am about to tell you is shocking. Earth shattering. Life altering. Prepare to have your mind blown. Ready? Deep breath. And here we go.

I have never seen Scarface.

I know! Unbelievable. And I don't know why. Because for one thing, I own it. Yes, I have the DVD. Still all shrink wrapped in plastic. I want to see it, I really do. I mean come on, Al Pacino? Who was cooler back then than Al Pacino? I just never got around to it. Maybe this weekend I will finally watch it and then I will tell you all about it? Like my new friend Caitlin just recently saw Pulp Fiction. And she was not impressed. But that's okay. I wasn't either when I saw it.

But you know how everyone on MTV Cribs has a Scarface movie poster in their theater room? Well, we have a theater room. A theater room sans Scarface poster. Some people have called that a travesty. A slap in the face of the laws of home decor. So we should at least see Scarface to make up for that, right? It's a shame. How can I call myself a movie lover, a lover of films if you will, and not see Scarface?

I feel better that you all know this about me. And since today we are discussing cinematic confessions, I think I'll get the rest of them off my chest too. Ready Bogart? This one is for you.

I have never seen The Princess Bride. (Gasp!)

I think I have tried watching it a few times and I am sorry to say . . . I just, um . . well . . . sort of don't get it. Hey, hey! Now hold on there. Don't get your panties in a wad. I want to get it. I do. So many people I respect and admire list this as their favorite movie of all time. And I just can't get into it. But hope is not lost, for I will try again. Just one more time. Because I'm all about perseverance.

I have never seen Gremlins. This movie was HUGE when I was in the seventh or eighth grade. Eighth I think. Either way, never saw it. Probably won't see it either.

I've never seen Footloose all the way through. I think I've seen the beginning and the end, but I missed the entire middle. So I know the town outlawed dancing and then at the end they are all dancing. I have no idea how or why they changed their minds. I don't care. Really. Jeez, I hope I didn't just spoil it for you.

I have not seen Fletch, The Hunt for Red October, Taxi Driver, or Apocalypse Now. I tell you in my 100 plus things I have never seen the Exorcist. And I never will. I also tell you why. I've never seen Chariots of Fire, Coming to America, Life Is Beautiful or any pre-Daniel Craig Bond flick. I haven't seen Blade Runner, Tron, or any of the three Mad Max movies. Or any movie with Jean Claude Van Damme. And I am very proud to say I have never seen a Star Trek movie. Not one.

And guess what else? I haven't seen It's A Wonderful Life. And I'm trying not to. Just to be a rebel. Because I don't want to see it and then wonder why it's such a big deal. I don't want to be disappointed in the rumored cinematic masterpiece that is It's A Wonderful Life.

Because that's what happens. Classic movie like that are infamous. Expectations are so high. Their titles are synonymous with things like American Culture, Christmas, and All That Is Right With The World. And then you see them and you think "What is wrong with me?" Just like The Princess Bride. I want to get it. I want to love it.

Just a few months ago I watched Sophie's Choice. I hated it. It is two and half hours of my life I am never getting back. That's when I decided I would take a stand. I will not see It's A Wonderful Life! And I won't.

But this weekend? Scarface. I'll let you know how it goes.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Tagged By the Maid

Becky is making me do this.

The ABC's of me:

A. Attached or Single? Happily attached – Uberman and I have been married for 14 years, together for 18. High School sweethearts, sort of.

B. Best Friend? Uberman above all. I know, how sweet huh? Then Dee and Raia. Dee and I have been best friends since 9th grade. She and her husband The Dirt Bike Kid (DBK) are our travel buddies and all around partners in international crime. I will blog more about them later. I have the best pictures of DBK doing nasty things in foreign countries and I am trying to talk him into letting me post them. He is by far one of the funniest people I have ever met. Raia and I have been friends for sixteen years. We can never stop being friends because we have way too much dirt on each other. Dee is the person I go to when I need brutal honesty. Raia is my girl when I need someone on my side. I love them both and would be lost (sometimes literally) without them.

C. Cake or Pie? That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child, are you kidding? I am an equal opportunity dessert eater. How about Favorite Pie – Coconut Cream, Favorite Cake – My SIL’s Pineapple, my aunt V’s Boiled Fudge, my mom’s Cherry Chip.

D. Day of choice? Sunday – We very rarely plan things for this day because we like to spend them together as a family hanging out, watching movies, relaxing, etc.

E. Essential item? Chapstick. Or Diet Coke. Or Mascara. Or People Magazine. Or my iPod. If I have to pick just one I’m screwed. But would probably go with chapstick.

F. Favorite color? This is hard. I really don’t have one. It depends on what we are talking about. I love red. I love pink. I love bright chartreuse green (my entire family refers to this as April Dawn Green). Mah cu-lah’s are Blush and Bashful.

G. Gummy Bears or Worms? Milk Duds. Gummy things are gross.

H. Home town? What does this mean? Where I live now? Where I was born? Where I grew up? I live in Hotterthanhell Arizona. I grew up in Utah (No, I’m not Mormon). And I was born in Las Vegas. But I like to think of my home town as Tooele, Utah. That’s where my mom’s family is. Shout out to Aunt N and Uncle Dream Boy (glad to hear you are feeling better!), Auntie V, Cousin Petunia and all you other crazies. I miss you!

I. Favorite indulgence? Purses. I love purses. This one is my fantasy bag. I will probably never own this bag. But this one I would really love and don't think it is entirely unattainable. I’d just have to sell a kidney or a kid. I’m trying to decide which I can do without. I’m leaning towards the kid since I have three and I only have two kidneys. I’ll let you know.

J. January or July? Um, hello? Didn’t you hear me say I live in Hotterthanhell? I’m gonna go with January.

K. Kids? Three (possibly less when I decide about the purse) if you aren't counting Uberman. Ages 10, 8 and 4. And we are done.

L. Life isn't complete without? Well, my family. And good friends. And caffeine. And desserts. And People Magazine.

M. Marriage Date? May 21, 1994.

N. Number of brothers and sisters? Ooooh. This is gonna surprise some of you. Some of you who know me. And have known me for years. I tell people I am an only child. But I do have a brother. He is 2 years younger than I. We were not raised together, we just visited in the summer and holidays. It’s a complicated relationship and there has been a lot of heartbreak on both ends. We are no longer in touch for reasons too long for this post. It’s a blog for a different day. But I am okay with it. And you should be too. We are . . . . an American family.

O. Oranges or Apples? Apples, especially Granny Smith. Mmmm!

P. Phobia's? Snakes and various other reptiles. Flying. Small confined spaces. Lipstick on my teeth. The usual things people fear.

Q. Quotes? Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift. That’s why they call it the present. – The turtle in Kung Fu Panda. Skadoosh.

R. Reasons to smile? My husband whistling, my kids laughing. Friends and Family. Daniel Craig’s little blue trunks. What else does one need?

S. Season of choice? I love spring. The weather, the blooming flowers the whole rebirth of Mother Nature stuff. But I also love the fall. Autumn colors (that we only see on TV) and pumpkins. Don’t you just love New York in the Fall? Makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.

T. Tag 5 people. This part’s hard because Becky tagged everyone in her blogroll and most of those people are on my blogroll and what if someone else thinks this is dumb and doesn’t wanna do it? Okay so I tag Brenda, Ginger, Sue at Random Ramblings and DH at Adulthood Sucks. I should tag Matt because he hasn’t updated his blog in TWO MONTHS and maybe he’s suffering writer’s block in Ecuador. Or maybe he’s just really busy doing the work God called him to do? Yeah, I’ll go with that. But for the rest of you, if you don’t want to do it that’s okay. I don’t have a life so I love stuff like this. Plus as you have guessed I LOVE talking about myself. No, really.

U. Unknown fact about me? I am secretly a Victoria’s Secret Model. I just say all that “bigger” stuff to throw you off my true identity. I don’t know. I already told you I have a brother. What other shocking bit of info is there? Oh, wait. I have one! Even though I am thirty (cough cough) something, and a little fluffier than average, I can still do the splits. And stand on pointe. And I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.

V. Vegetable? I just recently discovered I love artichokes. Does that count?

W. Worst Habit? Swearing. I’m working on it so back off. Oh and I leave stuff everywhere. Shoes, earrings, phone, keys. I just set it down wherever I am at and then I can never find it again. Oh and speaking without thinking. I rule at that.

X. Xray or ultrasound? Either, I look so thin in both.

Y. Your favorite food? This is difficult. Steak and baked potato (Uberman makes the best steak you will ever eat in your life), my mom’s lasagna, just about anything Italian, Fajitas, salads.

Z. Zodiac sign? Virgo. But I am not very Virgo-ish.

So there you go. My first tagging experience. Was it as good for you as it was for me?

Saturday, June 21, 2008

A Beautiful Day for a Neighbor

One of my neighbors is out to get me.

And I will find out who. And they are going down. I will bring them down to Chinatown. Oh, that is a promise.

I have received three, count 'em three, letters from the HOA in the past three weeks. The first was about our trash can that had been left out on a non-trash day. Thanks for the notice, but guess what? Not our trash can. It was the new neighbors'. It just so happened to be a little too close to our edge of the side yard.

Last week it was a notice to "green up" our grass. In ten days. Our grass does have one small yellowish greenish patch. More of a celadon green if you will. But every yard looks similar. Here's a news flash. It's HOT here. And DRY. And we are watering twice a day. And even the grass in the common area looks like crap. And unlike the property management company, we do not have a golf course certified landscaper on staff. What the H?

Then yesterday, the letter is pointing out weeds in the gravel area. It should have said "weed." Not that kind of weed, but a lone weed. One very small weed that sprung up out of nowhere. As weeds do. Hence the saying "growing like a weed." So tiny and partially obscured by the enormous Mexican Bird of Paradise, I didn't even notice its existence. Until the HOA was so kind to point it out to me. Via certified mail. And satellite photo courtesy of Google Earth. Okay so I may have embellished a little on the last part.

Now normally I am so busy doing my own thing, trying to keep up with my own life, that I fail to notice what is going on with my various neighbors. As a matter of fact, I know so few of them. We have a smile and waive thing with most of the neighbors, an idle chit chat and exchange of Christmas cookies type of relationship with a select few, and acquaintance bordering on friendship with the family two doors down. I have no idea who has weeds. I could care less if they leave their trash cans out. And I have never whipped out my color wheel to judge the green-ness of their grass.

Why? Because I have a life.

Meanwhile, new next door non-BFF's? Still NO LANDSCAPING AT ALL. Just a bunch of dirt, big rocks and guess what else? Weeds. PLURAL. Oh and another little thing that is totally verboten - a GINORMOUS brown trailer in their driveway.

Yeah I get it, they're new. Maybe they were not provided with a copy of the CC&R's when they moved in. Fine. Whatever. Is this ugly brown trailer hurting me? Causing me harm? Other than offending my eyesight, no. But what I want to know is, how does anyone see weeds or lack of green in my grass without being distracted by the enormous brown monstrosity that is a blatant disregard for the rules of our HOA parked in the next driveway?

They have lived here for two months. How long are they gonna slide by with the huge eyesore parked in front of their giant RV gate? And normally I would not give a rat's patoot. But somehow we have popped up as Public Enemy Number One on the HOA radar. And they continue to get away with property value murder.

And here's the kicker - their nasty cat is using my side yard as a toilet. I am cleaning up after their cat. And then we, not they, are getting letters spouting off crap about pride of ownership and beautifying the neighborhood and blah puking blah and getting blamed for their trash can misconduct. Seriously people. We are so not ever gonna barbecue with you.

And as for the dirty drunken delusionals who keep turning us in - Listen up Gladys Kravitz or whoever you may be. You nosy, rotten, hall monitoring turner-inner. You are a rat. Who do you think you are?? You think you're gonna mess with us?? You are going down. I am sending that obnoxious cat to your yard. I will lace your flower beds with Fancy Feast, so help me. You are toying with the wrong woman. I know teenagers. With mad toilet papering skillz.

Oh yeah. Believe that.

Please note that although I am clenching my fists and stamping my feet and whining about the unfairness of life in the 'Burbs in this post, my threats were only in jest and for the amusement of others. Anyone who knows me personally knows I am all talk and very little action and the very thought of confrontation gives me sweaty palms, heart palpitations and an urgent need to find the nearest bathroom. However, I have seen every unedited episode of the Sopranos, all three Godfather movies, The Departed, The Road to Perdition, the first three seasons of Desperate Housewives and Mean Girls. If you are reading this and you are my neighbor and you are turning me in to the HOA - Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Random Thoughts and Observations From My Day

After three days of cholera like symptoms and no caffeine, one can suffer from a withdrawal headache so severe one will totally understand why Amy Winehouse can't give up crack. And one will have empathy for her.

When asking your bug man if he can get in the shower, it might be helpful to substitute the word spray instead of get in order to avoid an awkward moment and look of sheer terror in his eyes. At least I think it was terror. It could have been confusion bordering on apprehensive interest. But I am going with terror.

It is entirely possible for an 8 year old boy to lose a pair of shorts. Which were folded and in his drawer. But he couldn't find them because he only looked in the stack of clothes neatly folded in his laundry basket. Because he didn't know he had to put away his own clothes now. And he would like a warning next time we make up new rules.

Some people are trying to adapt in this country. I was stopped beside a delivery truck at a stop light. I thought the driver had his radio up too loud. Until I realized he was listening to a CD teaching him conversational English. CD: "Mi camisa es amarilla." Driver: "My shirt is yellow."* I wanted to give him a thumbs up and a "Good for you Amigo!" But he was concentrating.
* I may have paraphrased here because I couldn't understand what the CD or the Driver were actually saying and this is one of the few phrases I remember after two years of Spanish in Jr. High. And then I moved on to French. Which has been a huge help living in AZ.

They should hang a sign over the self checkout lane at the grocery store that says "Please - No Morons." Seriously. If you can't use the self checkout without the assistance of a grocery store employee, please please please do not try when there are 5 other people standing in line waiting to self checkout. The whole point of self checkout is to checkout by yourself. This way you avoid the line at regular checkout because you are a big girl and you can do it yourself. And you are sick of the cashier asking why you always make tacos. It's not rocket science. It's scan the product, hear the beep, drop it in the bag. Scan, beep, bag. Then follow the directions on the screen to pay. If you can read, you can do it. As a matter of fact, I don't think you even have to read. I think there are cartoon pictures showing you the process. So please, I am begging you. If you have absolutely no knowledge of electronics and/or no computer skills whatsoever - stay the flip out of self checkout. I have perishables here. Jeez.

Three days of cholera like symptoms and a blinding caffeine withdrawal headache will leave you with shaky legs, no energy, little patience, dry chapped lips, a sore throat, dark circles under your eyes, zero appetite . . . . and four point eight pounds lighter. Yep.

Totally worth it.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Love In the Time of Cholera

I'm sick. Really sick. Like I almost want to die sick. I am 100% convinced I have salmonella from bad tomatoes. Or cholera. Because it feels like cholera. I mean I have never actually had cholera before yesterday, but I have seen The Painted Veil and I am pretty sure this is what cholera would feel like. Cholera is not fun.

I had Uberman looking up salmonella and tomatoes on the Google last night. I just really needed to know if it was possible to die from it. Can you imagine how uncool? Death by tomato? Seriously, can you think of a less menacing fruit? Maybe the raspberry. But tomatoes are pretty wimpy. At least pineapples have that prickly outside. I would much rather die from a pineapple.

So in my weak and delirious state last night I was asking Uberman if he would remarry right away. I was so happy when he said no. Until he explained that it might take a while to get his new wife cleared through immigration. Oh ha ha ha. Uberman, you are so funny. I am dying. And instead of spending our final moments together telling me you loved me and your life was better for knowing me (at least that's what Ed Norton told Naomi Watts in The Painted Veil), you are cracking jokes about which country would be easiest for importing new wives. He's leaning toward Germany.

Just for that, when I die I am going to leave him with two baskets of unfolded laundry. I was going to fold them in between trips to vomit, but I am not going to waste my time. The newbie can handle it. So there. That's right, hell hath no fury like a woman with cholera. Or salmonella. Whatever.

The good news is I am closer to my goal weight. Yay me! Will someone please make sure Uberman buries me in something really cool? Like leather pants. Or that dress Halle Berry wore when she won her Oscar. I loved that dress.

I'm going back to bed. That is if I can make it before passing out on the stairs. Hopefully the kids will at least roll me to the side so I don't get trampled.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

For the Dads

Until I was thirteen, Father's Day didn't have a whole lot of meaning to me. It was just another Sunday in June. But that completely changed when my mother married the amazing man I now call my dad.

Now, every Father's Day I struggle to find a card for him. They just don't make cards for the non-standard family. They start with phrases like "Ever since I was little . . ." or "Remember when I was a child . . ." Those phrases don't pertain to us. Occasionally I would find one that said "For my Step-Dad." But that didn't work either.

He isn't my Step-Dad. He isn't just my mother's husband. He's the man who comforted me the first time I had my heart broken. The one who stared down and interrogated my first date. The one who didn't like it when I started wearing eye liner and lip stick. He's the one who taught me to drive, to wash a car properly, to iron a dress shirt and balance a checkbook. He's the one who told me the best thing I can ever do for myself is maintain good credit (and to this day occasionally asks me what my FICO score is to make sure I am following his advice). This is the man who walked me down the aisle and held my babies minutes after they were born.

He took a thirteen year old angry smart ass, and turned her into a strong, confident, caring and compassionate woman. Who is still occasionally a smart ass. But it's one of the things he appreciates most. He may not be the man who contributed to my DNA, but I am his. I may not look like him, but I am like him in so many ways. He is my Dad. I am who I am because of him.

And not only am I lucky to have him, but I am also blessed to have an amazing father in law. He's quiet and sweet, gentle and generous. His greatest joy is being with his family. He taught all three of my kids to swim. He helps me shuttle the kids to baseball practices and games. He's painted countless walls, put together furniture, installed appliances and moved boxes. And no matter what we have asked for or needed, he has never complained. And best of all, he has always treated me like I was his own daughter. I know Uberman is the amazing husband and father he is because of this man.

I always knew I loved Uberman. And when we had our babies, I knew he would be a good father. He researched everything we needed for a baby. He was so concerned about which car seat was the safest, which stroller was the sturdiest, which crib would be the most comfortable. So I knew he had it in him. But nothing prepared me for the love I would feel for this man when I watched him with his children. His kindness, his compassion, his patience and protective instinct. He continually blows me away.

I know my boys will grow up to be kind and responsible men. And my daughter will grow up and know how to recognize a good man. I know this because of the strong examples the three of them have in their lives. I feel so lucky to now know what Father's Day is all about. To celebrate these three amazing men in my life.

And to all the other ubermen out there who are doing the best they can to raise their families and make this world a better place, Happy Father's Day to you!

Friday, June 13, 2008

Close My Eyes I Am Rhythm

Just a note - This looks like a long post. But it ends with a list and you can skip it if you want. Whatever. I mean you can get through it quickly. But do what you want. Okay? Just read it. I mean jeez. I've read a lot of your dumb lists. Humor me here, okay?? Or you can skip it. I don't really care. Please read it. Yeah? Okay.

I had my iPod sitting on my desk at work recently. A co-worker picked it up and to my horror, started paging through my playlist. And let me just tell you this, I've been more comfortable during gynecological exams than I was at that moment. I exhaled slowly, closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.

He: Michael Buble?
Me (sigh): Yeah.
He: You borrow that from your mom?
Me: No! (Yes.)
He: Cheap Trick? Seriously?
Me: Yes. It's a peppy song.
He: Justin Timberlake? What are you, seventeen?
Me: Hey, he brought sexy back.
He: Did sexy go somewhere?
Me: Shut up.

Why is it that we have to explain our music choices to people? I too am guilty of this type of harassment. Just a few months ago I asked Bogart if I could see his man card after he professed his love for Josh Groban's You Raise Me Up. And for that, I offer him my sincerest apologies. Because as you can see, Karma is a vindictive hag and put me in a position where I doubted all the songs I love.

My friend Raia and I had this discussion a few months ago when she had the same issue, a co-worker invading her MP3 privacy. And just like she did, I felt so exposed as this guy thoughtlessly examined my songs and questioned my choices. I think I'd rather have him peeking in my underwear drawer.

Why is music so personal for some of us? And yet there are some of you who can confidently put your lists out there for the world to see. Why did I feel a sense of shame over Cheap Trick and JT? Why do I feel the need to hide my affection for Michael Buble?

Well I'm not gonna do it anymore. You hear that world? I love Michael Buble! I walk around singing Feeling Good and A Foggy Day in London Town. I get teary eyed during A Song for You and I imagine slow dancing with Uberman to You and I. And Christmas is not the same if I can't hear him sing Let It Snow while it's seventy degrees outside and I'm decorating my tree. Okay? I love him! And if that makes me uncool, oh well. If loving him is wrong than I don't wanna be right.

Uberman loves to tease me about my taste, or lack thereof, in music. I think it stems from my Duranny days. And for those of you who don't know, that means I was obsessed with Duran Duran. Dude, it was 22 years ago, I can't change the past. And John Taylor was hot, I don't care if he did have bigger hair and wore more makeup than I did. But you know what? Uberman has no room to talk. His music is nothing but a bunch of angry guys screaming. I can't even understand what they are screaming about, but I am pretty sure it is somewhere along the lines of "I am so angry! Yeah Yeah! I need therapy! Yeah Yeah!" I guess if my last name was Zombie I'd be pretty ticked off, too.

But yes, my musical taste is eclectic. I was raised on old school country, George Jones, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette and Patsy Cline. I watched Hee Haw in my overalls and blue cowboy boots. And there's not many oldies I don't know the words to. Elvis, Buddy Holly, Brenda Lee and the Beatles. Of course I grew up in the seventies and eighties. I remember trying to do the Hustle in my mom's platform heels when I was seven or eight. I could shake it to all the songs of Saturday Night Fever. Duran Duran came later, along with Howard Jones, Tears for Fears and the Thompson Twins. Awesome.

And you know what, since we are confessing, I think I'll just announce that I love Air Supply. Yeah, I do. I'm never gonna let them go and I'm gonna hold them in my arms forever. And Journey. Who doesn't love Steve Perry belting out Separate Ways? And guess what else? I prefer Sammy Hagar Van Halen to David Lee Roth Van Halen. Gasp! Oh yeah man, I'm a rebel.

So I'm just gonna put it out there. I'm opening the underwear drawer for the world to see. Well, you know what I mean. And in the immortal words of Bogart the Magnificent, these aren't necessarily the greatest songs ever recorded. They're not even necessarily my all time favorites. This is just what's on my iPod right now. These are the songs getting me through traffic, helping me decompress after a hectic day, putting a pep in my step and a smile on my face. This is a sampling of what I am listening to now. And just so you know, I have babies in the car so these are all the clean versions. Don't judge me.

Rise Above This - Seether - I love this song. The lead singer's raw voice and the catchy tune. It's a great first thing in the morning song.

Never Too Late - Three Days Grace

Whatever It Takes - Lifehouse

We Belong Together - Gavin DeGraw - This song makes me melt. It's long, but beautiful.

Pork and Beans - Weezer - Come on, how many songs are out there with the words Pork and Beans in them? These guys are pure genius!

Nothing Lasts Forever - Maroon 5 - Adam Levine rocks my socks. 'Nuff said.

It's Not My Time - 3 Doors Down - Some guys on the radio were talking about the lead singer and how he's about 8 different kinds of ugly. But because he's in a successful band, women still say "Oh, but he has really pretty eyes." Yeah. And an awesome voice.

What Hurts the Most - Rascal Flatts - Boo loves this song. She said "Mommy, this song is sad. It's about when you miss someone." She's four and she's awesome.

Sorry - Buck Cherry - Yeah, he should be sorry. After calling her a crazy bi**h and revealing too much about their intimate, ahem, habits. But the words are so sincere and lovely I want to yell "Just forgive him already!"

Won't Go Home Without You - Maroon 5 - Again, Adam. Sigh.

Fake It - Seether - Who does not love an angry bitter song once in a while? This song gets my blood pumping in the morning.

Believe - The Bravery - Reminiscent of my boys in Duran2. Love it.

Best I Ever Had (Grey Sky Morning) - Vertical Horizon - This song is so haunting. Great driving home in traffic surrounded by stupid people song.

Take A Bow - Rhianna - You tell him girl. Get off her lawn. Liar.

Say (All I Need) - OneRepublic - Mellow. Love these guys.

Everything - Michael Buble - That Emily Blunt is one lucky chick. He can't believe that he's her man and he gets to kiss her baby just because he can.

Little Wonders - Rob Thomas - If you don't see how sweet and beautiful this song is, there's something wrong with you.

SOS - Rhianna - If this song doesn't make you want to dance, there's something wrong with you.

Psycho - Puddle of Mudd - Again, another great raw song. It's not you, it's me. Maybe I'm the schizophrenic psycho. But probably not.

She Talks to Angels - The Black Crowes - Yeah Chris Robinson is a little weird and things didn't work out with him and Kate and one of them needs to step up and cut that kid's hair, but this song is just plain, old fashioned lovely.

If I Ain't Got You - Alicia Keys - This girl has some pipes. I'm not a huge fan of all her stuff, but the lyrics in this song speak to me. Can't explain it. Just love it.

She Sells Sanctuary - The Cult - This is a great fresh out of the driveway start the day song. And it reminds me of the great British gangster movie Layer Cake. If you haven't seen it, rent it.

I'll Be - Edwin McCain - Okay, this one is one of my all time favorite songs. Ever.

Another One Bites The Dust - Queen - Come on, who doesn't remember roller skating to this one? Disco ball turning above you, silver squares reflecting all over the skating rink, big Goody comb in your back pocket, wind blowing through your Farrah Fawcett hair. Yeah man. Far out.

Perfect Situation - Weezer - This song kept me calm as we circled JFK airport for two hours coming back from London two years ago. On the 5th anniversary of 9/11. Of all days to be traveling when you really, really hate to fly. I just kept it on repeat. Until the battery in my iPod died. Awesome.

Like a Stone - Audioslave - Yeah this song's a little stalkerish and creepy. But how cool would it be to have Chris Cornell for a stalker??

Feeling Good - Michael Buble - Love it! And I'm feeling good just thinking about the big band in this song. Makes me want to choreograph a dance where I am wearing a fedora and carrying a cane. And then I do that cool move where I stand on a folding chair and push it over without falling. And then I kick my legs and throw the hat and catch it with the cane and kick my legs again and pirouette and arch my back and . . . Oh sorry, I kind of forgot you were there...

SexyBack - Justin Timberlake - Another song where I let my Solid Gold Dancer inside free.

Outside - Staind - I love the pain and anguish in this song. I too have been on the outside looking in. It hurts man.

Don't Bring Me Down - Electric Light Orchestra - I dare you to listen to this and not bob your head to the beat. You can't do it. Oooh woo hoo.

When Your Heart Stops Beating - +44 - It's got a good beat and you can't dance to it. That's it.

The Adventure - Angels & Airwaves - Although I took sides with Mark and Travis in the Blink182 breakup, I still love Tom Delonge's whiny voice. And I think it's funny that he follows their new band in my play list. I wonder if they start arguing in there when I'm not listening...

I Want You to Want Me - Cheap Trick - Oh I do want you. You shouldn't have to feel all alone without a friend and feel like dying. No, you didn't see me crying.

I Am the Highway - Audioslave - Again, Chris. Love him. Love the lyrics to this one. He's not my rolling wheels. He is the highway. He's not my carpet ride. He is the sky. Profound.

Solsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel - Love this guy. Except Shock the Monkey. That one just scared me.

Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie - Another one of Boo's favorites. I know this one got played to death on the radio, but I still love it. Fergie has a really beautiful voice. I don't know why she doesn't sing for real instead of all that rap, white girl from the hood stuff she does. I just don't get it. She was on Kids Incorporated, not Soul Train. Let's keep it real Stacie. Mmmkay?

So there you go. These are some of the songs that make my days brighter. In the words of her Majesty, Madonna - Music. Makes the big world. Come together.

So true, girl. So true.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

For Your Thighs Only

Did y'all see this bit of tragic news?? My pretend celebrity boyfriend has been injured twice in the last two weeks on the set of his new 007 movie. Poor little pumpkin. Sacrificing his health and safety to entertain the masses. What a good Samaritan. Brad Pitt thinks he's all cool building eco-friendly houses in New Orleans. Whatever. I'll take Daniel and his little blue trunks making the world a prettier place any day.

So yeah, come November I will be sending my money to that charity by going to see his movie. I absolutely loved the last one. It was my first James Bond movie ever. Loved every second of it.

After I saw it I was telling my mom about it. She asked "What was it about?"

Uuuummmm. Hmmmm. Well, lets see. It was about this hot guy beating the crap out of someone in a bathroom and then he was rocking some tight cargo pants while chasing someone through a jungle. Then the best part, he was coming out of the ocean in these little swim trunks and mom, you should have seen his shoulders! Then he was wearing a tuxedo and playing cards, and then he's driving a gorgeous car and next thing you know he was naked in a chair!! I kind of blacked out a little after that, but then he's running through Venice and I think he was on a boat and all sad and I totally wanted to give him a hug. And then he's wearing a three piece suit and carrying a big gun and he goes "Bond, James Bond." And then it was over. It was - the Best. Movie. Ever.

Another friend asked me "Didn't you think the plot was a little old?" Uuumm, no. Wasn't aware of a plot at all. And we can't be friends anymore because duh, you don't know a cinematic masterpiece when you see one.

"Didn't you think the stunts were unrealistic?" Absolutely not! No way. I honestly believe with all my heart Daniel Craig has the capability to climb up a scaffolding and fight a bad guy while standing on a four inch wide steel frame five stories from the ground. He's James Freakin' Bond. He can do whatever he wants. Which includes fighting two bad guys simultaneously in a stair well, falling down several flights of stairs, and then returning to his card game in a clean shirt and no evidence of the cuts and scrapes he accumulated in the fight. I mean hello, you don't get promoted to double oh by being a pansy.

So I'm totally disappointed in the teaser poster for the new movie. Have you seen it?

As if the ridiculous title wasn't bad enough (Quantum of Solace?). Who decided this?? We are trying to sell this movie with a shadow?? What kind of marketing team came up with this dumb idea? If we are trying to reach a wider audience here, and when I say wider audience I mean important people like women and gay men, how about showing his ripped abs? At the very least his pretty face and gorgeous blue eyes. The shadow of his, um, big gun isn't doing it for me. The first thing that sparked my attention with Casino Royale was the poster. Yummy, blue eyed bad ass in a tuxedo coming out of a casino, mmm hmm. It looked like Ocean's 11, but with one hot guy, no Julia Roberts and less witty, bromance dialogue. Who doesn't want to see a movie like that?? And then I saw the preview with the little blue trunks. I turned to Uberman -"Yeah, that looks awesome." He raised an eyebrow. "Really? You'll see that with me?" Uh, heck yeah! But I've asked for the movie poster for Christmas for two years and haven't gotten it. What's up with that, Santa?

But I am totally thinking about auditioning for the next one. I mean why not? If the new Bond can be (gasp!) blond, why can't the Bond girl take voluptuous to a whole new level? Why can't she have a few spider veins and stretch marks? I think that would be a little more believable, don't you? If they are serious about reinventing the franchise, why not take a chance on someone a little more Bridget Jones than Brigitte Bardot? I even have a suggestion for a title, as you can see above.

I think I am on to something here.

"Ooooh, would we call her chubby?"
"I think there's a pretty sizable ass there, yes sir. Huge thighs."

*Props to you if you can name that movie.*

Monday, June 9, 2008

Heartbreak and My Dirty Little Secret

Uberman and I enjoyed a very nice kid-free weekend, thanks to my mom and dad. On a side note, I really don't know what we would do without our parents. They are so supportive and helpful to us when it comes to the kids. My mother in law and father in law watch Boo Monday through Thursday while I work and they pick the boys up from their summer recreation program at 2:30 everyday and keep them until I come pick all three of them up an hour or so later. Plus they occasionally watch them on a weekend night so Uberman and I can go out on a hot date. My parents live over an hour away, but every couple of months they volunteer to take the kids for a few days and it is bliss. Of course by the time the little monkeys come home we have missed them like crazy, but the mini-breaks are good for all of us.

So this weekend was no exception. My mom picked the kids up on Thursday afternoon, allowing me a free night to go see the Sex and the City Movie with a group of girlfriends. Friday evening Uberman and I ran a few errands and then had dinner at a new little neighborhood bar and grill by our house. Holy crap, can anyone say strong margarita? Wow! Saturday night we had dinner with The Maid and her fabulous, um, Butler.

Sunday morning I woke up early. The plan was to start working on my Dirty Little Secret as Coffee Bean calls them. It's that spot in your house that you would DIE if anyone saw or discovered. Mine is the office. It's atrocious. No really, there is a path from the door to the computer and that is it. The floor is covered with boxes of paperwork, scrapbooking and sewing supplies, books, fabric, papers to shred, toys and clothes I am sending to Goodwill, Christmas decorations I don't have room for in the closet, etc. It's a mess. It's not even a mess. It looks like the aftermath of a tornado. But I have set a date!! Yes, I am committing to having this room "show ready" by July 6th! Show ready means I will leave the door to this room open when people come over. Yes! No shame here! "Would you like to see my office?" These words might actually come out of my mouth. Instead of "No! If you open that door I SWEAR this friendship is OVER!!"

So I started working on the DLS, and boy did the paper shredder get a work out! I decided to call my mom and check on the monkeys. I knew as soon as she answered something was not right. And strangely enough, Friday night I had a bad dream about Boo. It bothered me all day Saturday. And I called to check on her a few times during the day but they were at the zoo and having a great time. So when she answered Sunday I asked what was wrong. Boo had been up all night throwing up. My parents had not had any sleep. Boo had finally gone back to sleep right before I called. My mom had not called me because she didn't want me to worry. She said she would call me back when Boo woke up. An hour later she called and I could hear Boo crying "I want mommy!"

Uberman and I got in the car to go get her. My dad drove her halfway to meet us. As soon as I opened the back door to get her she burst into tears. Oh people, I cannot tell you enough how much this broke my heart. My poor little baby, sad and sick and just wanting to be home. I stood there in a hot parking lot hugging her as tight as I could. And I cried. I cried like a baby. I felt so bad for her. You should have seen her. She's a tiny little thing anyway, four years old and barely 30 pounds. She has always been so petite. She was sitting there in her car seat with a towel on her lap in case she threw up again, wearing her purple Disney Princess night gown and holding her fluffy teddy bear. Dark circles under her big brown eyes and chin quivering. It was devastating.

I cried on the way home as she slept. I felt like the worst mother ever. I didn't know she was going to get sick. And she could have gotten sick at any time. But I just felt like I had let her down. Sending the kids away (even though they really wanted to go) so I could rejuvenate my batteries. I just felt so selfish. Which I realize now as I type this, tears again sliding down my cheeks, that I was being a little ridiculous and hard on myself. But the look on her face when I opened the door shattered my heart into a million pieces.

So I stayed home with her today. She's asleep on a chair in front of the Backyardigans, while I continue to sort through the Dirty Little Secret. I can actually see the top of my desk! The boys stayed at my mom and dad's and are having a great time. They will come home tomorrow.

Why didn't anyone tell me it would be this hard to be a mom? That I would question almost every decision I made? That I would constantly look back and see that I should have handled it better? We want so badly to protect them, to keep them safe and secure. Why is it that I can see only the times where I have failed and not all the times I have succeeded? And my kids are still young. I have the hardest years ahead of me. How am I going to do this? How am I going to get through this without becoming a raging alcoholic? Or a drooling idiot in the fetal position, rocking under the kitchen table?

Will I ever be able to look back on these years when my babies are gone and see that I did the best that I could? Will I always have regrets?

Will I ever feel confident that I made the right decisions for them?

I hope so. I really, really hope so.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Celebrity Snark

So I left a comment today on Adulthood Sucks (who is lovely!). I am not going to repeat it, but it's there for you to read for yourself. But I gotta be honest, I felt a little bad afterward. I mean I was basically insulting someone I don't even know. Which is rude, but I seem to have a bit of a gift for it. What can I say, God blesses us in different ways.
But the issue is, I didn't feel bad about hurting the feelings of the person I was talking about, I felt bad about hurting the feelings of the person I was talking to. Get it?? I mean I don't know the lovely anonymous writer of Adulthood Sucks, even though I have been lurking on her site forev. I'm all wrapped up in her life now. Which is little creepy. But I am sure you all feel the same about me, just as I do about you. Wrapped up I mean. Not creepy. So what if this person I was insulting was by some slim chance related to Adulthood Sucks? What if it was her sister, friend or distant relative and I totally talked smack about her?
Okay this is getting confusing. So I'll just put it out there. I was talking about Denise Richards. And I may or may not have insinuated that she was a fame hungry whore. Okay I just said it out right. But for the record, I said she's a self promoting whore. But what ever, tomato tomahto. But since we're all ready talking about her I'll just stand up and go on record that I think Charlie is much better off without her. So for any of you still wondering where I stood on that issue, I am Team Charlie all the way.
And since we are talking about celebrities, let's talk about Pete Wentz for a little while, mmmkay? What do we think of him? Personally, not a fan. And the guy is everywhere. I'm sick of him. He has to be the most famous bassist ever. (He's a bassist right? For all I know he could play the accordion.) Have you ever heard of a band where the bassist is more famous than the lead singer? Can anyone here (over the age of 22) name the lead singer of Fall Out Boy?? Anyone? Nope, I have no idea what his name is either. And I am not looking him up on the Google. And don't you do it either. I know you want to. I am convinced someone somewhere is keeping track of everything we are Googling to use it against us someday. God forbid someone throws that little nugget back in my face at a really inopportune time.
"Dear Mrs. Uberman, we regretfully inform you that your son cannot be accepted into our university at this time. After a routine investigation it was discovered that in the summer of 2008 you were guilty of excessively Googling where to buy replacement Lego pieces, crock pot recipes, Daniel Craig, and the lead singer of Fall Out Boy. We could have overlooked the other items as we realize you're a mom of two boys, you work so you need simple meal preparations, and we would be lying if we didn't agree that Daniel Craig is straight out of Studsville. However, no one cares about the name of the lead singer of Fall Out Boy, therefore we have concluded your son is the descendant of psychopaths and/or idiots. We recommend you contact a mental health professional ASAP. Sincerely, Random Ivy League University."

Moving on.

What is up with this? I am assuming Posh did not see him before he left the house or I am 100% convinced she would have asked why in the hell he was wearing little Cruz's vest. And the bow tie she stole from a male stripper. And Grandma Becks' turquoise necklace as a bracelet. Referee, hand this man his red card!!

And what the heck happened here? Apparently there is a stylist position open in Hollywood. Anyone condoning neoprene pants and no-sew fleece vests need not apply.

And is just me, or is this his signature pose? Close your mouth Dude, you like a moron. And stop hanging out with Pete Wentz. That guy's a goober. But love the hair, man. Kudos for finally cutting it.

And seriously, what is going on here? Is she? Are they? Do you really think? I mean whatever floats your boat. But wow.

And for those of you (men I am assuming) who don't get the fascination with celebrities, Uberman doesn't get it either. When Brad and Jen broke up I was upset. I mean I walked around in a fog for days asking why? Why can't they go to counseling and work this out?? Why?? And Uberman said "Baby, you realize you don't actually know them, right??" But whatever. I felt like I did. And they let me down. No, HE let me down. Running off with that woman. And now Jen's dating a dude who walks around with his mouth hanging open. Oh the pain!
Speaking of marriage, yesterday I read this little blurb about Charlize Theron. She's basically saying she doesn't believe in marriage because the government doesn't see the reality of gay and lesbian marriages. I'm sorry, what does this have to do with you getting married, Charlize? I just think that if I am going to take a stand on the issue of championing the equal marriage cause, I might want to be someone who takes marriage seriously. Regardless of who is getting married, the act of marriage itself deserves some respect if everyone should be allowed to do it. Anyone out there with me on this? I'm stepping off my soap box now.

Wait, maybe I need to climb back on. I saw a little snippet on E! of this woman wearing this dress. They (the E! people) were asking her why she felt the need to put that statement on her dress and she said "Because I stand against genocide." Um, isn't everyone technically against genocide? Or maybe I should rephrase that. Is there anyone for genocide? I think even the people who are causing the genocide, the genociders if you will, are against genocide. The genocide is simply the result of what they view as a greater fight. It just sounds stupid. I'm against genocide. Really Maria, how do you feel about child abuse? Or animal cruelty? Are you against that too? What about raping and pillaging? Just curious. Because me personally, I'm totally against the raping, but the pillaging is okay. And I'm on the fence about toxic chemicals in toys. Doing a little more research before I sew sequin letters on my Old Navy denim jacket and permanently declare my stance on the subject.

Sometimes celebrities are stupid.
And just in case anyone wants to start jumping all over me about how I don't even know these people and who am I to judge, I just want to let y'all know I got my facts from People Magazine. Mmmmkay? And we all know you can believe everything you read in People. Right?


*Crickets...Pins dropping...*

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

The Good, The Bad and The Cottage Cheese

***Update*** For all the people who asked - No this is not my scale! Not my numbers. Not my groovy blue tile. Just a picture I found on the Google. Dudes, do you seriously think I would be posting my real numbers when I just told y'all the reasons I had to be finicky with who's gonna weigh me? Uberman does occasionally read this. But only because I beg him to and give him quizzes about it. But no, that is not how much I weigh. And no, I am not announcing that either. And I would NEVER buy this scale. It tells you your BMI and body fat percentage. And I don't think you can program it to lie. There are some things a girl doesn't need to know!! It's true what they say about the truth. It hurts like a bitch.

So this week's been pretty good so far. I am down two pounds.
The good news is I can see the effects of losing the two pounds. The bad news is, I lost the two pounds in a place where I really don't need to lose the weight. Where? You guessed it - the boobies. Yep, one pound from each is what it looks like. And The Girls look pretty unhappy about it. They aren't looking anyone in the eye anymore. Why are they taking this so hard? It's for the greater good. They are taking one for the team, right? Yet they are so depressed.
Uberman gave me a gift card to buy some secrets from that slut we all know and love - Victoria. I know, Uberman is a sweetie. But lets be real here, we all know those gift cards are not really intended as gifts for us, right? We're onto you Uberman and all the other Ubermen out there! So anyhoo, I am going to have to go buy The Girls something pretty. That always seems to perk them up. And if that doesn't work I may seriously consider giving them a lobotomy. And when I say lobotomy, I mean implants and a lift. Just so there's no confusion.
I am back to counting points everyday, and journaling what I eat. Which is a complete pain in the cottage cheese dimples, but it really does help. And I am not going to the WW meetings. I just don't have time. Okay that's totally a lie. I just don't want to make the time. How about that? I simply can't take it anymore. Have you ever been to a WW meeting? It's unsafe! It's a room full of hungry people in ketosis. Very similar to the zombies in Dawn of the Dead. And they are being asked to confront their biggest fear - The Evil Scale! DUN DUN DUUUHHHN!!! (Cue running, screaming mob of fluffy people - AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!)
Sometimes the meetings are informative, but most of the time they are telling you the same stuff you already know from the pamphlets they hand you when you check in. I do like listening to other people share, however. I imagine it's similar to an AA meeting. "Hi, I'm April (Hi April) and I've been off the Krispy Kreme's for 8 days, 11 hours and 22.8 minutes." (Golf claps from the crowd of hungry zombies.) Or you always get that one lady in your group who brings in the labels of all the low point treats she finds. "Did she just say those Blue Bunny ice cream bars are zero points?? What?? That is madness!!"
The problem with not going to the meetings is, I am the type of person that needs to be accountable to someone. I need the disapproving look of disgust when I get on the scale and have gained a little. Therefore, I am still having someone weigh me every week. And what better person than my Mother in Law! She is the Queen of the disapproving look of disgust! I kid, I kid. Or do I?
Why did I pick my MIL for this special task, you ask yourself? Well, I certainly can't have Uberman do it, now can I? I would rather stick needles in my eye than have him know how much I weigh. Seriously, when I was 9 months pregnant with my second child, the OB nurse said my weight out loud in front of him. Oh yes she did. I yelled "What do you think you are doing? You don't just announce a woman's weight in front of her husband when she is nine months swollen with his offspring and all this extra fluid! What the hell is the matter with you??" And then I reported her to the Doctor and insisted she be fired or at the very least reprimanded. And he just laughed, "Oh April, you are so funny. How are the pregnancy hormones treating you lately?" Whatever, traitor. Blaming this on hormones when it was your nurse's bad manners and violation of doctor patient confidentiality. Not to mention betrayal of her own kind. Oh I am getting mad all over again. Deep breath in, slowly exhale....
So anyhoo . . . I can't have my own mother do it because she lives 100 miles away and that would just be too inconvenient for weekly weigh ins. I can't ask my sister in law because she knows too many of my friends and it is a pretty juicy number, I wouldn't blame her for wanting to tell someone. And I can't have a friend do it because, well I would be way too embarrassed for any of them to know. I mean come on, we are all judging each other and we know it. Although, I could ask my friend Brooke because she was kind enough to keep removing the M&M dish from me at Bunco Monday night (thanks Brooke!!). She was not judging, she was making me be accountable and I love her more for it. So Brooke, you are on stand by. You'll be my weigh in back up plan. Are you cool with that??
I can't ask any of the kids because one needs too much help writing her numbers and the other two have big mouths. ("Dad, Mom said the S word when she hit a curb turning a corner too fast yesterday." "And she was doing 85 on the freeway!" Thanks guys! Don't come looking for me when you are teenagers and miss your curfew. I will be the first to rat you out!) So the obvious answer was the MIL. I see her almost every day so it's convenient. Plus, she wants me to be successful and she will encourage me or give me the kick in the ass I need when I gain. Plus plus, I am sure she doesn't want a lard ass for a daughter in law.
She's gonna be great. Imagine a mix between Lou Gossett, Jr. in An Officer and A Gentleman and Carol Brady. But shorter. And with great legs and really cute shoes. And awesome jewelry. And free. (Yay Free!)
If I feel like I'm going to backslide, I'll go back to the meetings. But until then, I think I am ready for outpatient treatment. We'll see how it goes. So onward and, hopefully as far as the numbers on the scale are concerned, downward. Ha!
Disclaimer - This post was not intended in any way to insult any of the following: People attending WW or AA, people with droopy boobies, surgically enhanced boobies or cottage dimples, mothers in law, daughters in law, Ubermen, OB Nurses, Zombies, sluts, patrons of Victoria's Secret, lovers of Krispy Kreme, fans of Louis Gossett, Jr, friends named Brooke, and most importantly, FAT PEOPLE. I am one of you. It was all in jest and good humor. If we can't joke about our big asses, what do we have left people?? Huh?? So please, if I hurt your feelings STOP READING MY BLOG!! Thank you and have a lovely evening. Kisses.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

A Better Deal

In case any of you were unsure, I'm a girl. A girly girl. I am attracted to the sparkly. The shiny. Ooh, the flossy flossy. And it's even better if I can get the sparkly, shiny, flossy things at a bargain price. I love me a good deal.

It used to be that when I spent $95.02, I had something really fun to show for it. I had new boots that I bought on sale. And I could say "Look at my super cute new boots!" Or I could have a whole outfit plus accessories. "Look at my pretty new top and matching earrings! Guess how much I saved?" I could use my Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon to buy a fun, new kitchen appliance, like a toaster oven! (I am sick, I really think a toaster oven would be fun.)

For $95.02, I could go to the Brighton outlet and treat myself to sunglasses, earrings and probably a bracelet. I could get on Amazon and buy enough books and movies to keep me entertained for the rest of the year, with free super saver shipping. $95.02 could pay for four and three fourths pedicures if I had a coupon and didn't get a flower on my big toe. That could be four months and three weeks of pretty feet! And yes, a good pedicure lasts me a month if I am really careful.

So today, guess what I got for my $95.02? I got 23.987 gallons of gas. Gas, people. And not even the fancy gas, which is a crock by the way, I don't care what Uberman says. And it was painful. I think my debit card actually flipped me off. And I think the gas pump giggled as I put it in the tank. That's a lot of money people! And to not have anything to show for it? Hey everyone, look at my new . . . um . . . gas!! Isn't it the prettiest gas you have ever seen? All together now - Ooooh!! Aaaaah!! You're a lucky girl, April!!

And you know what really pisses me off? ***And I'm about to get offensive so consider this your warning*** While I am standing there, stealing all the paper towels out of the window washing thingy, feeling faint and weak in the knees, listening to the pump mock me as it ticks away the dollars and cents to the rhythm of "Suck-er, Suck-er," I notice QT is advertising 32oz drinks for 69 cents. A Good Deal, the sign says. Aw shucks QT! By golly that sure is mighty kind of ya!

Rat bastards. You guys have great big giant coconut balls, you know that? Here I am taking it up the ass at the pump and you are trying to lure me in with 69 cent 32 ouncers? How dare you! Someone should call Dateline and get that Chris Hansen guy out here. Yes, I agree. You can't beat a 69 cent 32 ounce deal anywhere, even at the happy hour from 2-4 at that place we do not mention anymore. But my God people! Aren't I giving QT enough of my money?? Do they deserve my loyalty to a cheap 32 ounce much needed cold refreshing carbonated beverage?? Don't ya thing they should just give it to me out of the kindness of their cold, greedy heart? Out of their solidarity and understanding of the human condition in a weak economy?? If I am sinking $95.02 (and stealing your paper towels) isn't a free drink the least you can do?

Because I would feel a helluva lot better after spending $95.02 ON GAS if I could say "Hey look at the good deal I got! I got bent over by QT, but they totally gave me this neat-o free drink!"