Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Prank Wars

Ganelle and I have known each other for twelve years, a relationship based on a mutual disdain for tofu and a love of all things Mrs. Fields. Also, we have been playing jokes on each other for the duration of our friendship. I’m pretty sure I started it when I decorated a van she was preparing to take to the mountains full of kids from our arch-rival high school – the tin cans attached to the bumper were like bells of angels at 5am. She reciprocated with fliers distributed on all the cars at the airport with my picture on it and a phone number to call me “For A Good Time”. Cory and I stuck with the airport theme for our next gig and dressed as nerds to pick them up after a flight from the Pacific, back in the day when we were free to meet people at the gate. (This picture exists, but is unfortunately packed in a box somewhere deep in the annals of my garage. Sorry. Maybe later.)

But I have to say, my crowning accomplishment came when I submitted an outdated picture along with a cheesy update to her college alumni magazine without her knowledge, AND THEY PUBLISHED IT!! We’re still not sure how many ex-boyfriends witnessed this section in the magazine, but I’m confident it’s enough to satiate me my entire life. To retaliate, she secretly made a copy of my house key, then used it when we were on vacation to change our answering machine message, replace every photo in my home with her picture (as well as hiding a total of 140 copies throughout the house), and put our home up for sale. She got two phone calls from interested buyers. Not bad.

I was finding photos of her for months. A year afterward I got out our Pack ‘N Play for a friend who was visiting with her baby and found another copy, and I was pretty sure that was the last one. Until today. I was cleaning out my crawl space, packing up our crap Cory’s 300,000 baseball cards our stuff when I found what has to be the final picture, discovered inside a box that held a Christmas Tree Stand that we no longer use:



It’s been FOUR YEARS. I cannot believe she braved the dark and creepy crawl space! Then again, we’ve never been much for understanding boundaries. Perhaps that’s another reason we get along so well. So, the fun continues. Tell me Ganelle, is it over yet?

Monday, July 28, 2008

How Far Along Are You? Oh.

The new clothing fads are killing me. Pregnant people are wearing saran wrap and skinny people are wearing maternity clothes. This is a trend I cannot win.

Though I tried.

A couple of weeks ago I broke down and bought one of those boob-hugger-stomach-enhancer shirts that went over my thighs. I looked in the mirror and said to myself, "It's the style. People will understand." And then I wore it last night and while Samantha approved, Cory was all, "When are you due and why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Luckily, I saved the receipt.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Because My Dad Doesn't Have A Blog

An email I got from my dad this morning:

So yesterday morning I started to juice some oranges fresh off our tree when our awesome, had it forever, juicer began to growl and slow down. What to do?? To fix most anything around the house the usual two choices are duct tape or WD 40. I opted for WD 40 because I don't know how to tape an orange and spraying is more of a guy thing anyway. I tried to be judicious in my application but, alas, WD40 becomes ubiquitous when sprayed and mom's OJ immediately picked up the subtle aroma and tang of this amazing lubricant. She immediately poured her juice into mine. I drank both hers and mine and I no longer squeek. Mom is squeeking and taping her joints. Did I make the right choice?
~ Dad


Dad: Fifty extra points for using the word "ubiquitous". You're awesome.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Seriously, Where IS Everybody?

I don't know where everyone goes during the summer, being all road trippy and vacationy or whatever in the name of family bonding, but I swear to you it has been like pulling teeth to find people for Samantha to hang out with. And in case you haven't heard all my complaints about how Drew has already started school and it sucks to be me because year-round school wants to put my freedom into a pit of crap and flush it to the North Pole so we can blame the frail existence of polar bears on something other than global warming, then let me add to my list of grievances that his absence accentuates Samantha's boredom because WHO ELSE CAN SHE BLAME FOR RUINING HER LIFE BEFORE 9 AM?

Our neighborhood streets have scarcely seen a life form to be found riding a bike or walking the sidewalks in search of a playmate. After three visits to unanswered doors and multiple phone calls looking for a friend this morning, (one friend answered her cell phone from Atlanta) Samantha admitted defeat and I responded facetiously with, "What is up with your friends this summer? Clearly they have forgotten that we have needs, and that it's ALL ABOUT US." "OR," she said, "CLEARLY we need to GET OUT and DO SOMETHING so we're not the only ones SITTING AROUND!"

She might have a point, but I don't want to get up. Maybe I should get her a blog.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Keeping You Abreast of the Situation

I had to sit for a couple of hours at the car dealership recently so I began flipping through a magazine. I came upon a short article about sports bras and how past versions have let us down (no pun intended). It cracked me up on several levels, leaving me no alternative but to share it with you, my mostly imaginary friends, on the internet. Here is what it said:

“The first sports bra was two jockstraps sewn together. Thirty-one years and several design advances later, many women still aren’t getting enough support, because until recently, scientists had never actually analyzed the manner in which breasts bounce. In a three-year study, British exercise scientists discovered that breasts don’t just swing up and down but also move in and out and left to right, forming a figure eight pattern. Most bras stop only up and down movement, which could be part of the reason more than half of women suffer breast pain during exercise.”


Unfortunately with the case of magazines, there is no place to ask questions. That’s where blogs and imaginary friends come in very handy. So let’s get started.

1. TWO JOCK STRAPS SEWN TOGETHER? Is that true?! Thank goodness I was only six years old at the time and not quite developed or I might have something to say about that.
2. Can we talk for a second about the part where they say “SCIENTISTS HAD NEVER ACTUALLY ANALYZED THE MANNER IN WHICH BREASTS BOUNCE”? Clearly, these scientists never played on the high school football team.
3. Furthermore, breakthroughs were finally made after British exercise scientists conducted A THREE YEAR STUDY????? May I ask how exactly this research was gathered? Are all the British perverts hanging out around Hampton Court just following people with cameras while they hurry their way through the tree maze? And really, aren’t you just taking advantage when it takes you three years to figure out that boobs make figure 8’s when subjected to turbulence?
4. Don’t you have to receive permission to video people for research? If so, who are the morons agreeing to it? I mean, a guy with a camera comes up to you running in the park and says, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m conducting research on women’s breasts and how they move during exercise. Could I video you in slow motion?” DON’T YOU SEE SOME RED FLAGS?!!!
5. Finally, how are we supposed to crack down on pedophiles when this kind of research is going on? Focus on curing cancer people!

The article was followed up with pictures of four “latest and greatest” sports bras approved by the author. One is called the “Under Armour HeatGear Endure D”. For Pete’s sake, are you going jogging or hunting down Osama bin Laden all by yourself? Another is, “The Nike Revolutionary Women’s Support Bra” – perfect for operating a musket. The third is the “Champion Powerback Underwire Sports Bra”. Translation: My name is Greta, I weigh 350 pounds and I do the shotput. You wanna take this outside? ‘Cuz my girls won’t get in my way THIS time. Finally, the simply stated, “Enell Sports Bra”. It claims to “minimize breast movement, eliminate chafing, and provide back support.” Finally, a bra that accomplishes more than a Presidential Candidate.

The thing is, I totally understand the need for good support during exercise. I guess it just never occurred to me how “good support” translated into “pervs getting paid with my tax dollars”. If nothing else I’ve learned that if I ever meet a man at a dinner party who claims to be an exercise scientist, it's time to turn my back and walk away. Slowly.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Where Have I Been?


We took a road trip, then Drew started school, and on his first day he sat by himself at recess and when he told me that I cried, and then we visited our new house and got excited, and then Drew asked me why we had to do a stupid move and go to a stupid new school where the teachers are stupid and the rules are stupid and by the way the color red is stupid and walking on sidewalks is stupid, and I gave him hugs and told him I loved him and he hugged me back. And I went in the other room to cry some more. And then Samantha got three teeth pulled and I held her hand and supported her from a chair at her side begged Cory to take off work so I wouldn't have to watch and read in Sunset Magazine about the 12 most exotic beach vacations in the waiting room while he sat with her. She got to pick out two toys.

But the road trip was good (it's where these pictures come from), day #2 at school was better, Samantha is on to solid foods, and while we won't be cashing in any time soon on any of those exotic beach vacations, the word "stupid" around here is being used a little less frequently. Baby steps.