Monday, June 29, 2009

The One Where the Queen Rants and the People Revolt....

Do you know what I don't enjoy?

The abbreviations people use to express themselves on line or via text. Like LOL. Seriously, not a fan. Or LMAO. I am totally okay with OMG. And who doesn't enjoy a WTF once in a while? But LOL, LMAO and ROFL are like nails on a chalkboard to me. Whatever happened to just saying Ha Ha!! So people would know you are laughing? Or what is wrong with a smiley face. :) I am a huge fan of the smiley face and all derivatives.

Now please know that I am not judging you if you are a frequent user of the LOL, etc. I just don't particularly enjoy them. You may not like Cheetos. I think they are like manna sent from Heaven above. The snack food of the Gods. But I know you are a kind person and will not hold my affection for processed cheese puffs against me. I feel the same way about your use of LOL.


Unless you are using the LOL to pretend that you are kidding when you are really not. I hate, loathe, despise this little game. There is nothing worse than the passive aggressive LOL.

For example, April's Facebook status reads:

April just had a great dinner with good friends.

The passive aggressive LOL-er who feels left out all the time responds:

"Why weren't we invited? I thought we were your good friends, LOL!"

Don't LOL me when I know you are just trying to get your point across. Because we both know you are pissed I didn't invite you and you are not really LOL-ing. This is why you weren't invited. I can't stand your venomous remarks, even if they are wrapped up in a smile. LMAO!

"I thought you didn't like Susie, you roll your eyes every time someone mentions her name. Yet last night I noticed the two of you had quite the convo on Facebook, LOL!"

You know what? Just call me out and say I'm two faced! Don't pretend you are teasing me when I know you aren't. Maybe I roll my eyes every time someone mentions her name because I know you are going to make some snippy comment about her? Maybe I can't stand the bitterness you constantly throw her way?? Maybe I roll my eyes to brace myself against your lack of ability to hide your low self esteem. JK! ROFL!!!

Maybe I just want to see how many times I can get you to LOLLMFAOROFL. OMG!! Like WTF???

How about you just take your LOL and KMA? OK??

No, I am not talking about you. Or you. Or that other person we know who does this all the time. This is all hypothetical. LOL.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009


My little Mac and baby Boo are sick. Really sick. And it breaks my heart to see them like this.

Last night when Mac was going to bed he said his stomach felt "twisty." And I knew what was in store for me later. He woke me up around 1:00 AM with those 7 words that strike fear in the hearts of moms everywhere: "Mom, I threw up in my bed."

And I know he's sick. And I'm sad for him. And if I could take it from him and go through it myself, I totally would. But for the love of God kid, can't you make it to the toilet? Jeez Louise.

So I stumble out of bed to survey the damage and start stripping his bed. And as I walked down the hall to get him a clean set of sheets, I knew something wasn't right. The smell was too over powering. I walked into Boo's room and was horrified. She too had yacked all over her bed. But was still sleeping in it.

And being the amazing father he is, Ubes started helping me right away. Starting one shower for Mac and another for Boo, helping to calm them both down as they both continued to hurl all over the place. When Junior was little, Ubes and I had a deal. He would always take the puke and I would always take the poop. But last night he forgot that deal and got to be Super Dad rubbing backs and holding heads and saying soothing words of reassurance. While I rinsed out dirty sheets and underwear and started the washing machine and scrubbed walls and mattresses, gagging and dry heaving the whole time.

This mom thing is for the birds. Next time I want to be the dad.

Please note I am writing this post in an exhausted stupor, my own stomach feeling a little twisty, and I in no way meant that I didn't love being a mother or I didn't love my children or I didn't appreciate having such an amazing husband who willingly gets out of bed to help when babies are sick and ralphing. I'm lucky, I know. Don't judge me.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Can't or Won't or Shouldn't

Seriously I don't know what's wrong with me. It's not that I don't want to write. It's not that I don't have stuff to talk about. Part of it is time. I seem to be running short these days. And part of it is energy, I seem to be running short on that, too. And part of it is just not wanting to share some things so publicly. I'll say it again for the five billionth time: I should have stayed anonymous.

So to get me back into the swing of things (I would like to post every day this week, no promises, we will see....), I am punking out and doing a meme. I saw this here, she's a cool chick, you'll like her.

I can't . . . bake a decent batch of brownies, stand the smell of cigarette smoke, leave Target or Costco without spending money, walk in my closet without stepping on something, go a day without checking Facebook.

I can . . . see through most people's BS, do the splits, remember the names of every teacher I have ever had (and I went to 14 different schools people), tell you what you need to hear, throw a heck of a party.

I won't . . . blow smoke up your bum, let you win because I feel sorry for you, ask for help unless I absolutely have to, watch Chuck Norris, Steven Segal or Jean Claude Van Damme movies, get on a plane without a little liquid courage - I don't care if my flight leaves at 6:00 AM, that's why God created mimosas.

I will . . . tell you if I think you are wrong, always have gum and Tylenol, forgive you if you ask, write a book, love Uberman until the day I die, say I am sorry, always want dessert.

I shouldn't . . . always eat dessert, procrastinate, drink so much diet coke, talk as much, check my email/Facebook/Twitter/blog comments a million times a day, make fat jokes at my own expense, care so much what certain people think, constantly remind others there are only 75 days left until "I'm on a boat and . . . it's going fast and . . ."

I should . . . eat more vegetables, exercise, watch less TV, get organized, let it go, make more time for myself, write more, get over it, stop trying to be in control, trust, accept people for who they are.

What about you? What can/will/should you do?

Saturday, June 13, 2009


I know, right? Like where the heck have I been? I've been neglecting the blog a little. There are weeds growing in my margins and stuff. The blogger HOA is going to start sending me nasty letters. Or something.

So holy cow am I busy these days. I have not done a load of laundry since last Sunday. It's piling up. Mocking me. I actually heard it snicker as I walked by it this morning on my way out the door to go to work. Yes. I am working on a Saturday. Banker's Hours my fat ass. Whoever came up with that phrase should be shot. I mean what a total liar. But check me out. I am such a rebel. I am blogging from work. Shh, don't tell anyone. I am pretty sure that kind of behavior is frowned upon.


Let's finish this post out by me doing what I do best . . . Griping!

(thunderous applause)

Here's what's bugging me this week:

  • In our neighborhood, we have long driveways. Long enough where you can park a car behind another car and still not be in the street. There's a guy who lives four or five doors down from us. He parks his car so that the ass of it is hanging off the driveway. You could park two Mini Coopers in front of his big Old Dude Boat. And yeah. This drives me crazy. And it's none of my business why he parks his car like that but why??? Why does he do that?? Is he just trying to annoy the heck out of me or what? Pull your car all the way forward, dude! Thank you.
  • My daughter gets a new cup every time she needs a drink. This results in 856 cups spread out on my counter throughout the day. I am constantly washing cups. I have told her about fifty bazillion times to use the same cup. So she gets around this by rotating her beverage choices. Milk. Chocolate milk. Water. Orange juice. Lemonade. And no, she can't rinse out the old cup and use it again. "Because that's gross." This is why I don't have time to blog anymore. Because I'm always washing cups.
  • I think I am losing my fascination for celebrity gossip. I don't care if Brad and Angelina break up, or what Spencer and Heidi are up to, or who Miley is dating. And I swear to God I am going to scream if I see one more magazine with Jon & Kate on the cover. I don't care. I don't want to know. All of these people make my stomach turn. I think this is a sign that I am getting old.
  • Which brings me to this point. A few years ago I was diagnosed with Vitiligo. For the most part, my white patches have been hidden. I have patches on each arm that are visible if I wear a really short sleeved shirt, which I rarely do because of my big ole lunch lady arms. But, lately I have noticed the patches on my arms seem to be getting bigger. And I am pretty sure I am developing a patch on my right cheek. Of my face, just to clarify. So dudes, are you still going to be friends with me when I have a big white patch of Michael Jackson disease on my face? Because something like this really brings your vanity out, you know? I'm fine with patches on my arms or legs or hands or whatever, but the face?? Come on. So unfair. Isn't it enough that I have big ears and freckles? Now I am going to have white spots on my face, too? So not cool.
  • Ubes and I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" this week. It was okay. But I think I hated all the female characters because they were all psycho. And the male characters weren't that great either. But I guess if they made a movie about normal people no one would see it because it would be boring. I don't know.

So I guess that's enough griping for now.... I'm home now and the laundry and piles of cups are calling to me. 83 days until vacation....

Sunday, June 7, 2009

The Best Friends. Ever.

Ubes and I hosted a party last night to celebrate our 15th anniversary. It was a mighty good time. And so I would just like to go on record and say, we seriously, without a doubt, hands down, have the BEST friends on the face of God's glorious green earth.

Here's why:

They bring extra tables and chairs.

They show up early and don't even blink an eyelash when I start barking orders to set up tables and unfold tablecloths and fill candy dishes. They know I am never prepared on time and they don't care.

They make the best salsa in the world. And share generously.

They ooh and aah and go on an on and on about my delicious pasta salad.

They bring amazing gifts (even when I asked them not to) like Sonic gift cards, a cake cutter shaped like a high heeled shoe, bottles of wine, flowers, picture frames, and lubricant. Yes I totally just said lubricant. Our friends are FUNNY!

They make amazing queso dip and bring extra chips to go with it. (Seriously Brooke, I think Ubes ate half of that crock pot by himself. He is still talking about it.)

They bring the most delicious margaritas you have ever tasted in your life. (Which unfortunately for Ubes did not mix well with all that queso.)

They make beautiful, fancy and delicious hand dipped chocolate strawberries that you almost don't want to eat because they are too pretty. Notice how I said almost. And after you eat a few of them and see everyone else eating them, you start to panic and want to hide them because you are totally that selfish.

They laugh and tease and joke and yell and woo hoo and get really really competitive when playing dice games. (And get really really mad when I tell them the first round was a "practice" round to help the beginners get comfortable with the game.)

They hose off the driveway and front steps after other guests throw up. (Hey, it's not really a party until someone ralphs, right?)

They break down tables and chairs and insist on helping with the clean up before they leave.

They always ask, "When is the next party?"

We are truly blessed to have such an amazing group of friends. Thank you for celebrating with us!