Thursday, October 30, 2008

All Treats, Because Tricks are for Kids

Do you want to hear something depressing?

My boys, ages ten (almost 11) and 8, CHOOSE NOT to go Trick or Treating this year. They say they are too old for it. What?? So I said, "You won't get any candy." And the younger one says "That's okay, candy is not healthy." What the heck is going on here? Did I stumble into some sort of alternate universe?? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY KID??

So I said, "Mac, vegetables are healthy and you refuse to eat those."

AND he says.... "Mom, please. One thing at a time."

So God, if you are listening, in my next life, can you please give me some normal kids?

Oh!! And I haven't even told you the best part. Are you ready?? This neighborhood we live in? These people go all out for Halloween. The kids here don't walk door to door. They ride in golf carts. Oh how I wish I were lying to you. And the other houses? They give out FULL SIZE CANDY BARS. Yes! You read that correctly. Last year, you should have seen the stuff these kids came home with. Candy bars (FULL SIZE PEOPLE!!), cans of pop, packets of baseball cards, Hot Wheel cars, play dough. I think Mac even got some stock certificates. It was CRAZY town.

And I thought I was a bad ass because I was passing out Halloween pencils. And then I couldn't figure out why these ungrateful brats coming to my door walked away all disappointed.

One kid dressed as Harry Potter said "No thank you" and then turned around and screamed up the street to a Clone Trooper - "She's only got pencils! I repeat, PENCILS!!"

The Clone Trooper nodded, pulled a walkie talkie out of his candy bag and said "We've got pencils on Elm Street, two-story with a witches broom in the entryway. Over."

Just as he finished, a Hannah Montana across the street yelled "We've had a raisin sighting!"

And Clone Trooper is on the walkie again. "That's affirmative. Pencils and raisins on Elm."

For the next several months I had to deal with the whispers and stares when I dropped the boys off at school. "Like ohmygod! That's the pencil lady!"

Can you believe that? I know! And that was just from the parents. The kids were even worse.

So I thought this year maybe we would be that family with the lights off pretending not to be home. And then I had a brilliant idea. I have a plan. I am going to save face and get my kids back on the A list.

We're passing out beer.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Sweet Dreams

Boo got High School Musical sheets for her Birthday. The pillow cases have pictures of Gabriella and Troy, and the sheets are emblazoned with the number 14. And for those of you lucky enough to NOT be in the know, 14 is Troy's basketball jersey number. Gag.

I also took her to see the movie this weekend. And can I just tell you this?? I think I would have enjoyed high school a whole lot more if we had broken out in random song and dance in the halls and cafeteria. I feel like I was gypped out of the true high school experience.

And speaking of being gypped. Why don't they make fun sheets like that for adults? Where are my pillow cases with Daniel Craig's face? Where are my sheets emblazoned with 007? Totally not fair. Who wouldn't sleep better with their soft cheek resting on this??

Oh yeah. Troy wishes he was this hot. If they made James Bond pajamas, Zac Efron would be sleeping in them. Come to think of it, me too.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

The Disney Princess

Our baby Boo turned the big oh-five today. I honestly can't believe it, the time has flown by. So I thought I would share a fun story with you about how she came to be. Well, I guess I should rephrase that. I am not going to tell you the really fun story about how she came to be, I'll leave that to your imagination. But let me tell ya, it's a good one! Oh, my. Sometimes I forget my mom and my MIL and various other family members read this blog.
Ahem... Anyway...
We had been trying to get pregnant again for a while. The first two, Junior and Mac, happened pretty much no problem. But this time, we were starting to wonder what the heck was going on. I was teasing Uberman about his underwear being too tight and how much time he was spending in front of electronics. And he was teasing me about being too old and my eggs dying and stuff. Really funny Uberman. Ha Ha.
So finally, it was the end of February. We were getting ready to go to Disneyland with Uberman's family (MIL, FIL, BIL and SIL and new nephew who was 6 months old). I took a home test the day we were leaving and it came up positive. Ah the glory of those two, beautiful pink lines! Which of course I did not believe. So I took a second test the next morning at the hotel before we went into the park. When it came up positive as well, Uberman and I decided to tell the whole family in Disneyland, our family's most favorite place in the world, the place where everyone believes in magic and dreams really do come true. (No, Disney did not pay me to shamelessly promote them.)
When we got inside the park, Uberman went to guest services and told them we wanted to tell our family we were going to have another baby. The people at Disneyland were very excited to help us with this and got really into shooting around ideas about how we could tell them. One guy got a little carried away. "Wouldn't it be great if we could do it during the parade? And we could have the whole Lion King scene where we release doves and Simba raises the lion cub in the air!" And we all stared at this guy as he was dancing around and flailing his arms and singing the chorus to "Circle of Life." I. Kid. You. Not. "What?" he asked. "Too over the top?"
In the end, the fabulous staff at guest services arranged for us to have a private meeting with Mickey and Minnie in the lobby of the theater leading to Great Moments with President Lincoln. So we started to lead the family down Main Street USA toward the theater, trying our best to be all casual. But MIL knew something was up. Uberman tried to tell her he wanted to show her something but she was too intuitive. She started asking me "What's going on? Where are we going? Are we going to be in the parade??" And I was trying so hard to play stupid. Which I am totally good at.
So we get to the theater, the guest services people lead the way in and told us to stand in front of this big curtain. We stood waiting for a moment, and then suddenly Mickey and Minnie stepped out from behind the curtain. Now I am assuming most of you have been to Disneyland or Disneyworld and you know how crowded it is waiting to get your picture taken with Mickey and/or Minnie. So you can imagine how cool it was to be there with them all by ourselves. They came out, just as cute as can be, holding hands and greeted each one of us. Then Mickey approached my MIL and FIL and pulled out a pair of Mickey ears with our due date embroidered on the back.
MIL was so excited. "Oh Mickey!" she said. "I get a present?" And then Mickey motioned for her to look at the back of the ears. FIL immediately started beaming at us and wiping the corners of his eyes. But MIL?? Well, she was a little confused. "Um, Mickey?" she asked. "It's not November."
So Mickey did that little silent giggle thing where he put his hand in front of his mouth, and then he turned and pointed at me. Suddenly the light bulb went on over her head and she started squealing and hugging us and crying. I am honestly not sure what she was more excited about, the fact that we were having another baby, or the fact that Mickey and Minnie got to tell her.
Either way, eight months later our own little princess was born (in October, two weeks early). The first girl in Uberman's whole family in over 30 years. Our own little piece of Disney magic.
Happy Birthday Boo! May your life always be filled with faith, trust and pixie dust. You are, by far, the best souvenir EVER!

Friday, October 24, 2008


I have some sad news. Today I suffered the tragic loss of a very close and personal friend. A friend who has been there for me, through good times and bad. A friend who always supported me. A friend who never let me down.
It is with great regret that I inform you, Black Beauty, my most favorite bra of nine years, has been laid to rest. As you can imagine, I am beyond devastated.
We have been through so much together, Black Beauty and I. I bought her as a gift for myself after I had successfully weaned my firstborn. She was just what my lingerie drawer needed after one year of being ruled by ugly, boring nursing bras. She saw me through two additional pregnancies, three weddings, five graduations, three baptisms, four job interviews. Countless client dinners, holiday parties and various celebrations. She was my go to girl when I needed a specific look. She was quite simply, a miracle worker.
And in the past few years, I have relied on her a little too much. I counted on her to help me feel sexy when I otherwise would not. In hindsight, I realize I may have expected her to carry more of a . . . um . . . burden, than she was capable of. I may have pushed her beyond her limits.
But I didn't know! I didn't know she was in pain. She never complained, never gave me any clue that she was tired and needed rest. Never once asked to be taken out of the rotation. She was the Cal Ripken of lingerie.
And now, she is gone. I put her in the washer with the delicates, but unfortunately, she just didn't make it. The rinse cycle must have been too much. I couldn't bare to put her in the trash. I am thinking about burning her on the barbecue grill, at least I may be able to save her ashes. I could wear them in a locket around my neck, close to my heart where she belongs.
I'm sorry, I am just too distraught to write any more. Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated at this difficult time.

Rest in Peace, Black Beauty, you will be missed.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Where is the love, ladies??

All right, let's talk. Something is really bugging me and I want to get it off my chest. So do I have your full attention here? Okay.

Why is it that we women as a species are so brutally hard on each other? I seriously do not get it. I want someone to explain it to me. Why are we so threatened by one another? Why do we feel the need to be so critical of other women? I am surrounded by this on a daily basis. Women criticizing other women, behind their backs most of the time, for the way they eat, dress, behave professionally or otherwise, parent their kids, treat their husbands, clean their houses, etc.


And I am taking a stand. Right here and right now. I will not be a part of this behavior anymore. (Unless it involves talking about celebrities, and then it is totally okay, wink wink.)

One thing I am so thankful for as a woman, is my ability to connect with other people, mostly women. I really think that women forge deeper friendships because we are naturally more emotional. And men, you are welcome to argue with me about this. I am not saying everyone, I am saying in general.

But at the same time, we women are so much more cruel than men. Women can be so good to each other, and also so very evil. Are you following me here, people??

Let's stop tearing each other down. Let's stop all the judging, the back biting, and all around bitchiness. Lets just get along. Let's break the cycle of Mean Girls for the sake of our daughters. Okay?? Because really, isn't it so much easier to be nice?

Because who really cares if the girl you work with dresses a little skanky? Maybe she thinks she looks good. Maybe she is comfortable. And what's it to you if your friend feeds her kid McDonald's twice a week. Maybe this is how she is getting by right now. And how is it any of your business if your cousin's neighbor's sister's daughter's teacher snaps at her husband too much. Maybe it will remind you to be nicer to your husband as an example to others. And how does it hurt you if a certain blogger you know really sucks at keeping up with the laundry folding and forgot to mop her floors for a month. Maybe her microwave is super clean and her families clothes are ironed and you didn't even know it.

Maybe those women we are talking about and turning our nose up at need our support, our encouragement, our understanding. And NOT our judgement.

Because we have all been there. We have all made bad choices. We have all yelled at our families in moments of frustration. We have all looked the other way when we were too exhausted to deal with something. We have all committed fashion faux pas. We have all eaten that second, third or fourth cookie. We have all had moments where we acted or reacted unprofessionally. Because guess what?? We are human and we all make mistakes.

So can we stop the madness please? Can we stop acting like such wretched hags and give each other a flipping break??

Are you with me?? Okay, come on. Group hug.

Oh I feel so much better.

Please note - before any of you ask - No, this had nothing to do with you or anything you said or did or anything I may have heard you said or did. This is a random and general observation about the behavior of women and how we can be so awesome, yet suck so much at the same time. Mmmmkay? Love you all!!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Her Royal Hawtness

Someone recently found my blog by using the search words "Queen April at April's Reign." Isn't that awesome? I am royally famous.

Or so I thought. Until I saw that someone else found my blog by searching "Diarrhea and cottage cheese poops." Um... What's up with that?

"Pantyhose catastrophes" I can understand. But stomach illness? I think I'm a little offended.

Not as offended as I was about the person who found my blog by searching "Zane Lamprey Douchebag." Lookie here Dude. Don't hate Zane. He's The Man. You wish you were Zane, okay? So hit the road. You are not welcome at this blog anymore.

I still occasionally get a few stragglers searching "Want some fries with that shake."

But my favorite of all time was from yesterday.

"Hot MILF Bloggers."

And there you have it, my friends. It's been officially declared. And we all know Google does not tell lies. Of course I would prefer it if people found me because of my thought provoking content and not my stunning hotness, but whatever. Hey you! Eyes up here.

Sigh. Now I know how Pamela Anderson must feel.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Not Happening

We just rented The Happening.

Um..... Yeah.

I just have one question for Marky Mark. Why? Why, man? Why??

After your Oscar nomination for the Departed. Dude, I thought you were on the up swing. What kind of dirt did M. Night Shamalamadingdong have on you to force you into this film? I'm at a loss here.

Although, I did enjoy the whole speech about the cough syrup. I actually laughed out loud. And that lady who used to be the mom on Eight is Enough? Scary. Really scary. Freaked me out. That's why I am blogging right now. At 11:14 PM in the evening. Because Uberman has to do something online with his fantasy league team or whatever, so I am sitting in the office with him because I am too scared to go downstairs to our bedroom by myself. So I am waiting it out. Even though I want to go to bed. Because I am tired and I am getting a cold and I don't feel well. But no flipping way am I going downstairs by myself. Too scary. All because of Eight is Enough lady. That woman scared the crap out of me and now I am going to have nightmares.

Maybe I will be less scared if I try to remember the names of all the kids on Eight is Enough. Let's see.... Well there was Nicholas, of course. And Tommy. Mary, David, Elizabeth. Nancy.... Joanie?? Was there a Joanie? And one more... Who am I forgetting?? Susan!! Yes, Susan! Is that right? Did I get all of them? I am so awesome.

And maybe a little drunk on Nyquil? Is it obvious?

Whatever. Don't rent The Happening. Because it's really dumb. And Marky Mark is not good in it. And Zooey Deschanel is even worse. I liked her much better in Elf. And it had the scary Eight is Enough step mom lady. Oh jeez. Now I am scared again. Gah!!

Friday, October 17, 2008

Hello? Alex P. Keaton, is that you?

Junior: Mom, here's something you can appreciate. We were discussing celebrities today because that is one of our spelling words this week.

Me: Yeah? Were you talking about Madonna's divorce? Or Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer possibly reuniting? I personally think she is making a huge mistake. Or did you guys talk about how cute Jake and Reese are together?

He: Uh, Mom? Focus.

Me: Sorry.

He: Mrs. [Teacher] asked us to name vain celebrities. So of course I said George Clooney.

Me (laughing): Why did you pick George Clooney?

He: Oh come on. That guy is so full of himself.

Me: What makes you say that?

He: He's everywhere. He's always talking about (finger quotes in the air, uses mocking tone) world peace. He's so annoying.

Me: (staring)
He: He just talks to hear his own voice. So people will think he's cool.
Me: (still staring, mouth open a little)
He: Like he's so smart. I mean, come on! The guy plays pretend for a living. Like I'm going to let him tell me who to vote for. (chuckles to himself)
Me: You're 10.
He: Almost 11.
Me: Still. You can't vote.
He: I know. What a drag. (shakes head) I just hate it when celebrities use their fame to promote their own political agenda. (walks away)
Me: (mouth open)
He: Hey, can I start my own blog?
And it's official. My son is a 50 year old conservative Republican trapped in a 10 (almost 11) year old's body. If he asks for a sweater vest for his birthday, I am going to freak out.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Work...

So I am cruising down the street this morning after I dropped the boys at school. Boo was in the back chatting away in her little bird, singsong voice. "Mommy I like this song, do you like this song? This song makes me want to dance. Do you want to dance Mommy? Mommy I like to dance. Do you like to dance? When you were little did you dance like me? Did you have lots of friends? Did you play Barbies? Mommy, do you like grapes?" Seriously. All in one breath.

And then a moment of silence. A brief moment.

"Mommy!" she exclaims with so much excitement I was sure she had just seen a rainbow, or Tinkerbell, or the entire cast of High School Musical hitch hiking on the side of the road.

". . . . I think I might throw up!"

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, because I am absolutely sure I did not hear her correctly.

"I think I need to throw up," she says, still thinking about it. "Yes... Yes. I am pretty sure I do." I see her nodding and smiling at me in the rear view mirror.

"What?" I say again, because obviously I am just not following her.

And then I see her eyes get very big and round. "Yes Mommy," she whispers. "I am going to throw up."

And before I could react, she did. Three full heaves of clear, snotty fluid right in her lap. I pulled into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. Thank God they are everywhere. I opened the back door and there was my baby girl, her bottom lip sticking out, her eyes full of tears.

"I threw up!" she cried.

"Yes, Baby, you did," I said as I am trying to wipe her up with napkins from my glove box. "Are you okay?"

"No!" she wailed. "I threw up all over my pink cargo capris from the Gap!"

Oh. Dear. Lord. I am in so much trouble with this kid.

I cleaned her up as best I could and then took her inside Wal-Mart to buy her something else to wear at her Granny's for the day. It drives my MIL crazy that I never have a change of clothes for her. Maybe I have learned my lesson? And even in Boo's weakened, post-barfy state, she still insisted on approving the two pairs of pajamas I picked out for her.

"No, Mom. I want purple, not blue!" she says as she rolls her eyes, her head leaning against the side of the cart. "Princesses, not Winnie the Pooh. I'm not a baby."

When we got back to the car I start stripping her down - "Mommy! Don't get the throw up from my pants on my Skechers!" - and wiping her up with baby wipes. I clean out her car seat and throw a towel down for her to sit on until I can wash the cover. And we all know what kind of a joy that is. Seriously, car seat manufacturers. Can you make them anymore difficult to put back together?? I get her back in the car, buckle her up, throw away the trash of pukey napkins and baby wipes and hand her a bottle of Sprite. I get back in the car to continue the journey to Granny's, feeling guilty that I am dumping a sick baby off so I can go to work.

"Are you okay, Baby?" I ask her, looking at her in the rear view mirror again.

"Yes," she says with a big smile. "I'm hungry. Can we stop and get a pizza?" Mind you, it's 9:00 AM.

And with that, the guilt magically disappeared. This mom thing sure isn't for the weak at heart.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Potty Mouth

In case you haven't guessed, I struggle with a bit of a potty mouth. I know, it's terrible. Especially because I am a mother and I am supposed to be a Christian and a role model to my kids blah blah blah. Don't judge me, okay? Some people smoke, some people drink, some people are wearing stockings with open toe shoes. We all have our faults. It's not like I am walking around here dropping F bombs all the time. I at least wait until the kids are out of earshot for that.

Oh, relax. I am totally kidding. Or am I? Shut up, Raia.

It was bad enough when my oldest, Junior, was a little over a year old and he would drop something and say "Oh chicks." So guess what? I started to spell it. And then I had Mac. Who would drop a toy or a fish cracker and say "Oh ess aych eye tee." And my mother in law did not think it was so funny when I would go "Listen to that! He's a genius!"

And so I worked really hard and tried my best not to swear in front of the kids. I tried substituting, like saying "Oh pickles!" Or "Oh shaving cream!" But occasionally, a swear word would slip out. Or I would still spell it. And then Junior started saying "You know mom, we can spell. We know what you're saying."

But it was Mac who really put me in my place. The other day we were driving somewhere, in a hurry as usual. I could not get over into the lane I needed in order to turn. I missed the turn and before I even thought about it, a minor expletive flew out of my mouth. The car got very quiet. And then I hear Mac from the back seat:

"Mom, it really hurts baby Jesus' heart when you talk like that."

Nothing like your eight your old making you feel like a heathen, eh?

So I am going to do it. I am committed to this. I'm going to stop swearing. Really, I am. Okay, stop laughing. I am. Just you wait and see. Jerks.

I said I was going to stop swearing. Not stop calling names. One thing at a time people. Baby steps. Sheesh.

Saturday, October 11, 2008


Do you ever play the game High Low? You know, where you name the part of your day that was a high (hence the "High") and the part of your day that was the low (hence the "Low")? Well if you do, cool. If not, that's cool too. Because we are going to play right now. Except instead of High-Low for the day, I am going to play High-Low for right now. And because I like to end things on a positive note, we are going to start with the low. I guess that changes the game to Low-High? Whatever.

As of right now, this moment, these are April's Lows:

Boo's preschool teacher - Not a fan. I have been giving it time. Trying to get to know her. Trying to relate to her. Trying to understand her style. And she's just not doing it for me. Am I going to do anything about it? Probably not. Boo likes her and is very happy at school, so I guess that's all that matters. But I am watching her. And if she steps out of line, I will take her down. Down to China Town.

Brangelina - Seriously. I don't freaking care. I am SICK of reading about them, looking at them, seeing them. I don't care how many kids they have or where they are living or how often they have sex or which one is prettier. I will gag myself with my People magazine if I have to see one more picture of them. Seriously. Enough. Gah!

Heroes - Is anyone out there watching this season? Now I realize I have been really tired lately. And my patience is not what it should be. But OMG. What the heck is going on with this show? Future Peter and Past Peter? And Tracy is Nikki's test tube triplet sister? And Peter and Nathan's mom is Sylar's mom? What the flip is going on?? Why are they ruining this show? The only thing saving it for me are my few and far between glimpses of Mohinder. At this point, I am watching for him. Sendhil, if for some unseen reason you happen upon this blog and things do not work out for me and Uberman or Daniel Craig, I will happily run away with you. I am sure the 85 year old charmer I promised myself to a couple of weeks ago will understand. Kisses.

Mean People - I have said before that I personally do not believe it is ever acceptable to be outright rude. And in my new job, I have come across a few people (clients) who are just plain nasty. You know, I get it. We are dealing with money here. And money is emotional. Especially in today's economy. Regardless, there is never an excuse for acting like a hateful douchebag. Am I right? And to stand in front of me and give me a ten minute lecture on how the Patriot Act is destroying humanity?? Dude. Am I responsible for passing the Patriot Act? No. Am I wearing my "I support the Patriot Act" t-shirt today? No. Do you see the word "Senator" anywhere on my name tag? No. Am I required by law to enforce the Patriot Act? Yes. Are your negative feelings towards the Patriot Act going to change what I can or can not do for you and your money? NO!! So here's a tip. Write your thoughts down and mail them to Washington DC and stop WASTING MY TIME AND ACTING LIKE A MISERABLE BUTTHEAD. Thank you. I sincerely appreciate your business.

My possessed refrigerator - Regardless of your brand name, you are not aiding my kitchen in any way when you decide to produce ice at your own leisure. One minute we have ice. The next, nada. And then a month later you get your stainless steel panties out of a bunch and start putting out again (ice, I mean). And then a month later you are holding out on me yet again. Nothing has changed. Your lines are not frozen. There is no wayward cube trapped in your output mechanism. Look, I don't have time for your fickle games. And it seriously pisses me off to buy ice when I know you have the capability to produce large quantities. In case you are unaware, we are in a recession here. Give it up already. Or we are going to start talking to your sister Maytag about a trade. Capice?

The uncertain future of Three Sheets - The Mojo Network is going dark, which means one of my favorite shows, Three Sheets, has to find a new home. If you have not watched this show, it is freaking hilarious. Zane Lamprey travels the world learning the drinking customs in various cities. You can find it on or you can catch reruns on MoJo until 12/01/08. Keep your fingers crossed that Zane and Three Sheets find a new home network soon!

Facebook Snub - I rarely send a friend request to anyone. I think I have sent a handful, but that is it. Well, a few weeks ago, Facebook suggested a friend to me. This girl was a good friend when I was in high school. And yeah, we lost touch, like everyone else. Honestly, Dee is my only high school friend I keep in regular touch with. However, since I joined Facebook, I have a few people from High School who have asked me to be their friend, which I kindly accepted. Even though I was not as close to these people as I was to this specific girl. So, remembering my friendship with this person, with whom I kept in touch for a few years after graduation, I sent her a friend request thinking she would be equally excited to reconnect with me. Yeah? No. She has not accepted my request. Dude, how freaking rude. I am really hurt. And seriously trying to think what I may have done 18 years ago to piss her off enough to decline my friend request. What. Ever. Okay? Facebook that, chickie. You suck.

And now for the Highs, these are the things I am loving right now -

My new iPod Nano - Uberman gave me the new iPod Nano for my birthday (in hot pink). My old iPod was one of the originals. I could use it as a boat anchor, I swear to you. So I loaded the new one up with lots of new songs. Two of them that I am LOVING right now are "I Don't Care" by Fallout Boy, and "Give's You Hell" by All American Rejects. I am so in love with both of these songs right now. Just ask my kids. They are so sick of me singing and dancing and embarrassing them in the car. Embarrassing them. Ha! Listen up kids. Need I remind you of the time I was nursing you in the Cheesecake Factory and you ripped the nursing blanket off me, exposing my boobs to not one, but two waiters and oh, say 17 other diners around us?? It doesn't matter which one of you it was. All three of you will pay, and pay dearly. So the singing and dancing in the car will continue. Get used to it.

Weight Watchers Lemon Snack Cakes - OMG. When you are jonesing for a little something sweet. 1 point people. 1 point of pure, unadulterated heaven and lemony goodness. Divine.

Lindemans Framboise - If you are not much of a beer drinker, I have a beer for you. It is a raspberry lambic. And I double dog dare you not to love it. Don't bother looking for it in your local grocery store, you will need to go to a place that sells craft brews. If you have a BevMo near you, you can find it there. Delicious.

This weekend's weather - The high today in Phoenix was 78. Yes, you read that correctly. A seven followed by an eight. Fahrenheit. It actually almost felt like Fall. And tonight, Uberman and I are sitting in the office with the sliding door to the balcony open. A cool breeze is rustling through the room. And I am wearing, get this, grey velour sweat pants from Old Navy. I have also begged Uberman to bury me in them when I die. He agreed. And you all are witnesses.

Uberman's cousin, Luke - He was the ring bearer at my wedding when he was five. Guess what? He's 20 now. And he's adorable. No really, I am so proud of this boy. He is currently staying with my in-laws while he goes to school to be an accountant, so we get to see him all the time. Uberman and I have gone out on double dates with him and his gorgeous, sweet, fabulous girlfriend. Luke and Uberman have always been very close, so they spend a lot of time together. And it just makes me so happy to have him in our lives. I know it sounds sappy, but he's just such a great kid. No, scratch that. He has turned out to be such a great man. I hope my boys follow in his footsteps and turn out to be as kind, responsible and well mannered as Lukie. Luckily he also has a great sense of humor. Last year he and I were having a conversation about how he doesn't remember not knowing me and how he used to call me "Maple" when he was little. How cute is that?? I have known this kid since he was a year old. So I was telling him it was so weird to see him becoming a man. I said "Luke. What happened? You used to be this little punk kid. I mean, I used to change your diapers! I have seen places of you that you haven't." And he looked into my eyes and said, "Well. Let me tell you something. A lot has changed." I died laughing.

Run Fat Boy Run - I Twittered about this movie, but really, it deserves a little write up. If you have not seen this movie, rent it! Simon Pegg (Shawn of the Dead and Hot Fuzz) plays kind of an irresponsible, immature dad who enters a marathon (which in the movie is pronounced maraTHUN) in order to impress the mother of his son (Thandie Newton) and compete with her new boyfriend (Hank Azaria). You will pee your pants watching this man train for his "marathun." Simon Pegg, as always, is hilarious. Interesting side note, this film was directed by David Schwimmer (Ross of Friends).

My Girls - I have told y'all before I have some amazing friends. Where would I be without these girls? So to all of you, thanks for being a part of my life and keeping me sane. You know who you are.

My Awesome New Job - Mean people, pantyhose and all. I love this place. I am having the best time meeting our existing clients and getting to know my new co-workers. I am so happy with my hours and my location and I am just really looking forward to learning more, getting more comfortable, and then taking over the universe. I mean really, who isn't?

So there you have it. My High Low. Thanks for sharing it with me. And if you would like to share yours, let me know. I would love to read it.

Peace out.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Nothing Beats a Great Pair of Legs

So the new job is going well. I am anxious to get over the learning curve so I can stop feeling like an idiot. But other than that, it is awesome.
There is always a little bitter with the sweet though, isn't there? And I don't really count the feeling like an idiot part as the bitter, because I know that's just temporary. Once I get into the swing of things, I will rock the socks off this job. Believe that.
So do you want to know what the bitter is? Yeah? I knew you would!
It's the Dress Code.
Yes. This company does not believe in Business Casual. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the lovely state of Arizona and it's brutal heat that lasts six months or more, Business Casual is pretty much the norm around here. But new company wants to set itself apart. Wants to project an image of the highest level of professionalism at all times. Which means employees are to be dressed as uncomfortably as possible. Men are to wear full on suits. Jacket, button up shirt, ties, the whole shebang. (Is it shebang or shabang? Anyone know?) And women are to wear suits or dresses. If a dress is worn, it must be accompanied by that one accessory that strikes fear in the hearts of all women.... Pantyhose. (Shudder.)
Yes my friends. Today, I chose to wear a skirt. It is a gorgeous black skirt that I am so in love with I would marry it if I could. It's straight and long, hitting just below the calf and flares out a little at the bottom. The only reason I have not worn it yet is because I knew I would have to bust out the dreaded requirement of (gulp) pantyhose. Even typing the word makes me feel uncomfortable. It has been a long time since I have had to put them on. I am totally out of practice. I mean, dear Lord! Who actually wears these things? What century are we living in? I wasn't sure they even made them anymore.
So of course I waited until after Uberman left for work, knowing full well he would have plopped down on our bed with a big coke and a bucket of popcorn to watch the hilarity ensue. Anyone who has watched their significant other yank on a pair of these bad boys knows what I am talking about, right? I took a moment to prepare myself mentally, to get in the zone. I did a few stretches, just to be safe. Don't want to pull a hammy. Then going on memory alone, I scrunched one leg from control top to toe, and slid my foot in, carefully releasing a little slack in the hose as I eased them up my leg. Hey I got this, it's not so difficult. Just like riding a bike. Easy squeezy lemon peasy, right?
All was going well until I had both legs in up to my mid thigh. And then had to yank the rest of them up and over my big ass. I'm yanking, I'm pulling, trying to make sure both legs are even and the crotch isn't sagging. Ladies, is there anything more annoying than sagging panythose crotch?? So I continue tugging, stretching, panting, sweating, swearing.... And then just like magic, they were on. I heard angels singing. But that could have been due to the lack of circulation of blood to the brain. I'm not really sure.
As I collapsed on my bed in exhaustion, I just prayed to God that I didn't die right there of a heart attack because can you even imagine what the paramedics would think when they found me? "Yeah Mike, looks like we got another one. It was the pantyhose again. Someone really should pass a bill outlawing those things, they're a menace."
And don't even say "thigh highs" to me. Don't you dare. If you are about to say the words "thigh highs," just turn back around and take your little helpful suggesting self back where you came from. I don't want to hear it. Why? I'll tell you why! Because the thigh highs cut into the thigh. And since I am no Olympic gymnast and have officially retired my Victoria's Secret Model membership card, my thighs are a little, um . . . soft? Squishy? Totally not conducive to thigh high wearing, okay? They leave an indentation, a roll if you will, making my leg resemble those of the Michelin Tire Man. Not an attractive silhouette under an absolutely to die for, form fitting skirt that flares at the bottom. Don't you people watch Project Runway? It's all about the silhouette!
Deep breaths....
Needless to say, I didn't die from the exertion of pouring myself into a sausage casing. Uh, I mean putting on the hose. I may have blacked out a little but I recovered quickly. And we'll just call that my cardio for the day. Now it was just all up to the control top. So I said a little prayer that the control top would indeed stay in control. Because, my friends, if the control top gives way, anyone within a three foot perimeter is getting hurt. You've seen those crash test videos where the airbags go off, right? We are talking serious injuries.
The good news is they were so tight, eating and/or sitting was completely out of the question. And breathing was limited to short intermittent breaths in order to avoid turning blue.
But... I looked awesome. If I do say so myself. It was the silhouette to end all silhouettes. And you should have seen the super slutty, sky high heels that topped off the outfit. It's going to take my feet a week to recover from that torture. But like my Auntie B always says "Fashion before comfort." She is so wise.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Dirty Sock Balls

I'm taking a poll.

How many of you sort the laundry and find those little bundled up balls of dirty socks? And how many times have you asked your rotten children to not throw the dirty sock balls in the hamper? How many times have you showed them how to un-bundle the sock balls while explaining how they will not get clean if they are washed like that and how you do not have the time to stand in front of the washer all night un-bundling dirty sock balls?? And how many times have you found the dirty sock balls late at night anyway and had to fight every impulse within your being to not rip your sleeping babies out of their cozy slumber and pelt them in the head with the dirty sock balls?

And how many of you are laughing because I said balls so many times? Focus people! I'm in crisis mode here.

And if your kids do their own laundry or your husband does all the laundry or you have no idea what a dirty sock ball is.... GO AWAY!

Friday, October 3, 2008


Uberman: Who is downloading Tim McGraw songs?
Me: Me. I love Tim McGraw.
He: Since when?
Me: Since always. I like it. I love it. I want some more of it. Where have you been?
He: Well that sucks. Now iTunes thinks I like country.
Me: So? What do you care what iTunes thinks?
He: What the hell? Why does iTunes think I would like Cheetah Girls songs?
Me: What?
He: iTunes. It thinks I would be interested in Cheetah Girls songs!
Me: Why?
He (reading): "Uberman, based on your previous purchases we thought you might also enjoy the sound track - Cheetah Girls: One World." (Turns to stare at me.)
Me: So?
He (Glares at me. Turns back to computer to glance through the list of previous purchases): Who is downloading the soundtrack to Camp Rock?
Me: Oh, that would be me.
He: (Exasperated) Why?
Me: For Boo. She wanted it.
He: Who is Drake Bell?
Me: You know, from Drake and Josh.
He: No. I don't know.
Me: Yeah you do. That show. On Nickelodeon. They're brothers. Or step brothers?? I don't really know. And I don't know which one of them belongs to the mom or the dad or the sister. Whatever. But I am pretty sure Josh had gastric bypass because have you seen him lately? He's totally skinny now. And kind of cute.
He: (Staring.)
Me: So yeah. Um, that's who Drake is.
He: He sings?
Me: Yeah, all the kids on those shows sing. Miley, Selena, Ashley, Miranda, Drake. They all sing.
He: Why are we downloading his songs?
Me: Oh, Mac wanted it.
He: Uh-huh. And what about the Jonas Brothers?
Me (blushing): Oh, that was for me. (Smile)
He: (Sighing, shaking head) And the soundtrack to High School Musical one and two?
Me: For Boo.
He (turning back to computer): Oh. My. God. It's also suggesting the soundtrack for Hairspray. (Puts head in hands.)
Me: Ooooh, I hear that's pretty good. (Singing, stretching arms wide) Good morning Baltimooooooooooorrrrre!
He: Great. iTunes thinks I'm gay.
Me (rolling eyes, shaking head): Noooo. At the very most it thinks you're confused.
Uberman: (Narrows eyes, stares at me)
Me: What?

Thursday, October 2, 2008


Have you ever done this? Decided to straighten up a little because you have been so busy these past few weeks that your chores have gotten a little neglected?

So you clean off your bathroom vanity and scrub your shower and tub and toilet. Then you think, oh since I am cleaning this bathroom I might as well clean the other downstairs bathroom. The "powder" room. Where nothing ever gets powdered. But whatever.

So you squirt the toilet cleaner around the toilet bowl and as you're letting it kind of marinate for a minute you clean the sink. And while you are cleaning the sink you notice the decorative towels are all kittywampis so you straighten them. And while you are straightening the towels you see the dust on the top of the towel bar so you take your wet cleaning towel to it. And while you are wiping the towel bar you notice that wrought iron decorative candle holder thingy hanging above the towels is covered in dust as well. And as you are dusting the candles and candle holder thingy you start wondering when was the last time a non-family member used this bathroom and ohmygod did they notice how dusty this thing was/is?

And while you are thinking about this you drop the toilet cleaner you are holding under your arm so you bend down to pick it up and notice the tops of your baseboards are grey instead of white because they too are so covered in dust. So you gasp and get down on your hands and knees and start scrubbing the baseboards and suddenly you are coughing and sneezing and have to get up to escape the cloud of dust and dust bunnies you are kicking up into your face from the tile floor.

And then you think holy crap when was the last time I mopped this floor?? And then you are horrified because not only can you not remember when was the last time you mopped that floor, you can't pinpoint the date of the last time you mopped any floor. And as a matter of fact, you can't even think of where your mop might be??

And then you start thinking, April . . . . or whatever your name is . . . . maybe you should stop worrying about your microwave and start paying more attention to your floors???

Has this ever happened to you?? No?? Yeah, me neither. I mean gross. Who would allow their home to get so disgusting? Certainly not I. Or you either. Right? I mean I think I may have heard about something like this on Oprah or some place but I have never experienced this for myself. Nope. No siree....