This is my CLEAN laundry:
Consider this my formal invitation to BASK IN MY GREATNESS.
NOTE: No small children were harmed (or buried, or lost) in the taking of these photos. I wish I could say the same about my self respect.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Airing My Dirty Laundry
This is my pile of dirty laundry:
This is my CLEAN laundry:
Consider this my formal invitation to BASK IN MY GREATNESS.
NOTE: No small children were harmed (or buried, or lost) in the taking of these photos. I wish I could say the same about my self respect.
This is my CLEAN laundry:
Consider this my formal invitation to BASK IN MY GREATNESS.
NOTE: No small children were harmed (or buried, or lost) in the taking of these photos. I wish I could say the same about my self respect.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Incidentally, NOT the stuff you pull out of your belly button
The other night Cory came home talking about some people at work and what they have committed to giving up for Lent. Lent started this year on February 17th (Ash Wednesday), goes until Easter, and excludes Sundays, totaling 40 days of observance. It begs the question, what would you be willing to give up for 40 days? Lent isn’t something that my religion practices, but I’d like to think if we did observe it I would be really brave about it. I hear a lot about people giving up chocolate during Lent. I don’t think I would do that for a couple of reasons. One, it’s too cliché and I think I’d want to appear holier than everyone else by doing something that nobody else was doing and prove that I was really thinking outside the box. Also, chocolate is too much a part of me. Would you ask Tim McGraw to give up his cowboy hat? Or tell Bono to lose the sunglasses? Or ask Snooki to remove her Bump-It? I DON’T THINK SO. And don’t try to tell me that there’s a difference between the vice of chocolate and wearing a simple pair of sunglasses – we all know Bono is hiding something. At any rate, as I thought about what I COULD do if I was a Lent observing Christian and wanted to show my commitment, I found that most things fell into one of two categories: Stuff I would never give up, and Stuff I could EASILY give up.
STUFF I WOULD NEVER GIVE UP – Toilet paper and chap stick. That’s pretty much it. Incidentally, this is also the reason I have never applied for Survivor.
STUFF I COULD EASILY GIVE UP:
1. Museums. I want to say that I love them because I think it would make me sound smarter, but I just don’t have it in me. The only thing that’s probably more boring than going to a museum is thinking about going to a museum. If someone asks, "I'm thinking about going to a museum, wanna come?" what I hear is, "I'm thinking about reading all of the encyclopedias on microbiology while listening to Enya, wanna come?" The only thing worse than that was when my best friend’s Dad used to say to me when we were little, “Hey Vern, come here! I wanna show you these slides from our trip!”
2. Fish. I really want to like fish, what with all the chatter that goes around about how good it is for you. Protein! Omega 3 fatty acids! Can we digress here for a second to talk about the “fatty acids”? I don’t even really know what they are, but could there be a worse thing to call something that is actually GOOD for you? That’s like calling someone a HUGE PIG and being like, “No REALLY! It’s a COMPLIMENT!” Fatty acids. Is that like getting on a roller coaster called “THE SUICIDE BOMBER” and having people try to assure you, “It’s kinda crazy at first, but once you get on you’ll be like, ‘Oh my gosh! I’ve never had more fun in my life!’” Where was I? Oh yeah, I don’t like fish.
3. Submarine travel. I know it sounds nutty, but I think I could live without it - and not even just for the 40 days.
4. Giving up on the idea that I will ever be able to fit in my wedding dress ever again. I might even have a head start on this one, because I sort of gave up on this idea ever since my goal weight became the same as what I weighed at 6 months gestation with my pregnancies.
I’m pretty sure I’ve missed the whole message and intention of what Lent is really about, but still. I think I make some pretty good points.
STUFF I WOULD NEVER GIVE UP – Toilet paper and chap stick. That’s pretty much it. Incidentally, this is also the reason I have never applied for Survivor.
STUFF I COULD EASILY GIVE UP:
1. Museums. I want to say that I love them because I think it would make me sound smarter, but I just don’t have it in me. The only thing that’s probably more boring than going to a museum is thinking about going to a museum. If someone asks, "I'm thinking about going to a museum, wanna come?" what I hear is, "I'm thinking about reading all of the encyclopedias on microbiology while listening to Enya, wanna come?" The only thing worse than that was when my best friend’s Dad used to say to me when we were little, “Hey Vern, come here! I wanna show you these slides from our trip!”
2. Fish. I really want to like fish, what with all the chatter that goes around about how good it is for you. Protein! Omega 3 fatty acids! Can we digress here for a second to talk about the “fatty acids”? I don’t even really know what they are, but could there be a worse thing to call something that is actually GOOD for you? That’s like calling someone a HUGE PIG and being like, “No REALLY! It’s a COMPLIMENT!” Fatty acids. Is that like getting on a roller coaster called “THE SUICIDE BOMBER” and having people try to assure you, “It’s kinda crazy at first, but once you get on you’ll be like, ‘Oh my gosh! I’ve never had more fun in my life!’” Where was I? Oh yeah, I don’t like fish.
3. Submarine travel. I know it sounds nutty, but I think I could live without it - and not even just for the 40 days.
4. Giving up on the idea that I will ever be able to fit in my wedding dress ever again. I might even have a head start on this one, because I sort of gave up on this idea ever since my goal weight became the same as what I weighed at 6 months gestation with my pregnancies.
I’m pretty sure I’ve missed the whole message and intention of what Lent is really about, but still. I think I make some pretty good points.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Potty Talk
A few days ago Drew went walking past the downstairs bathroom, then came out of the hallway waving his arm back and forth across his face while saying, "Phew! NEVER go into the bathroom after Dad." A few days later Drew went in and spent a some quality time in that bathroom himself. When he came out he said, "Just so you know, you may not want to go in there for a couple of hours." Samantha only caught part of the conversation, and came in from the other room for clarification. "What?" she asked. "Don't go in the bathroom for two days?" To which Drew responded, "That works too."
Don't you wish you lived here?
Don't you wish you lived here?
Monday, March 1, 2010
I Just Searched The Word "Hemorrhoids" On Twitter
I am not technologically fluent. When I started this blog I had to call my brother who walked me through it.
“Go to blogger dot com.”
“Okay.”
“Now pick a name.”
“Okay.”
“Click ‘Next’.”
“Got it.”
“Now look up ‘stupid’ in the dictionary.”
“All right.”
“Good. Now, see your picture?”
Of course my brother didn’t say that because he is not a jerk, but that’s pretty much how I feel sometimes when it comes to new territory. I’m the kind of person who watches the Today Show during the holidays when they feature the latest and greatest gadgets as gift ideas and gets totally overwhelmed. Matt Lauer will be standing there with his blue cue cards going, “So this little thing here the size of a tylenol can record up to seven hours of conversation, flush toilets remotely, alphabetize your spices AND teleport milk to your refrigerator on a Saturday morning ALL WITH THE PUSH OF A BUTTON?” And I’d be the one at home rocking in the corner in the fetal position, freaking out because the world is headed in a direction where I have to worry about every bloody thing I say for fear it will show up on the internet and I’ll be too dumb to know how to prevent it. I would also be the one thinking, “Remote flusher? How lame is that?” But then I would remember the one time we had company over and someone used the guest bathroom and forgot to flush the toilet, but we didn’t know it and then we went on vacation for a week and came back and…well, then we DID know it.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard for me to keep up. I don’t want to learn a new gadget every six months to be able to stay current with the rest of mankind. I never did MySpace, I am not a fan of facebook, and I have tried to put my foot down on Twitter. But the reality is, I feel like my disdain for all things techy is leaving me behind in a way that I can’t compensate for otherwise. It’s like the boss you have to get along with, whether you like it or not, if you want to keep your job.
At any rate, a few days ago I was reading some pro arguments over at Navel Gazing (Who I sure have been linking to a lot lately and somehow feel I should be compensated, perhaps as a randomly selected winner of the hp compaq mini CQ10...for example) for going Team Twitter, starting with, “It’s a great way to get to know other bloggers.” Should I care about this? I mean, if I don’t know you then I don’t really know what I’m missing out on. And if I DO get to know you then that means I will likely clock more hours on this here laptop following you. And frankly, I’m not sure I have that kind of time. Second on Sue’s list, “Twitter can help drive traffic to your blog.” Again, should I care? (Different than “DO I care?” Because oh yes, I CARE.) But does it really matter? I don’t like to play games. Either you want to be here or not. I don’t want people to come visit my blog just because they have become friends with me on Twitter and suddenly feel obligated. Shouldn’t the material just speak for itself? If you like it, fine. If not, fine. Right?
Finally, the author mentioned how Twitter can give you information that you won’t get anywhere else. I’m sure she’s right, which is why, for the first time ever, I logged on to Twitter. But when I got there I didn’t really know where to start. So I sat for a second and stared at the search button. What do I want to know about? And then it hit me. Hemorrhoids. I should totally do a search on hemorrhoids! Because I am getting older you know, and according to all the commercials this is bound to become a problem at some point and heaven forbid that Twitter holds all the answers to a cure and I’m stuck at home leafing through my AARP pamphlet and rummaging for Preparation-H. I typed it in.
H-e-m-o-r-r-h-o-i-d-s.
It produced exactly 0 results. Really, Twitter? Is that all you’ve got? So that was it and I walked away from my computer. I’m pretty sure I’m missing the big picture on this but at least now when people ask, “Have you ever gone on Twitter?” I can say, “Yes! Yes I have!” like the rest of the world. I might try again later but for now, I’m calling it good.
“Go to blogger dot com.”
“Okay.”
“Now pick a name.”
“Okay.”
“Click ‘Next’.”
“Got it.”
“Now look up ‘stupid’ in the dictionary.”
“All right.”
“Good. Now, see your picture?”
Of course my brother didn’t say that because he is not a jerk, but that’s pretty much how I feel sometimes when it comes to new territory. I’m the kind of person who watches the Today Show during the holidays when they feature the latest and greatest gadgets as gift ideas and gets totally overwhelmed. Matt Lauer will be standing there with his blue cue cards going, “So this little thing here the size of a tylenol can record up to seven hours of conversation, flush toilets remotely, alphabetize your spices AND teleport milk to your refrigerator on a Saturday morning ALL WITH THE PUSH OF A BUTTON?” And I’d be the one at home rocking in the corner in the fetal position, freaking out because the world is headed in a direction where I have to worry about every bloody thing I say for fear it will show up on the internet and I’ll be too dumb to know how to prevent it. I would also be the one thinking, “Remote flusher? How lame is that?” But then I would remember the one time we had company over and someone used the guest bathroom and forgot to flush the toilet, but we didn’t know it and then we went on vacation for a week and came back and…well, then we DID know it.
So, I guess what I’m saying is that it’s hard for me to keep up. I don’t want to learn a new gadget every six months to be able to stay current with the rest of mankind. I never did MySpace, I am not a fan of facebook, and I have tried to put my foot down on Twitter. But the reality is, I feel like my disdain for all things techy is leaving me behind in a way that I can’t compensate for otherwise. It’s like the boss you have to get along with, whether you like it or not, if you want to keep your job.
At any rate, a few days ago I was reading some pro arguments over at Navel Gazing (Who I sure have been linking to a lot lately and somehow feel I should be compensated, perhaps as a randomly selected winner of the hp compaq mini CQ10...for example) for going Team Twitter, starting with, “It’s a great way to get to know other bloggers.” Should I care about this? I mean, if I don’t know you then I don’t really know what I’m missing out on. And if I DO get to know you then that means I will likely clock more hours on this here laptop following you. And frankly, I’m not sure I have that kind of time. Second on Sue’s list, “Twitter can help drive traffic to your blog.” Again, should I care? (Different than “DO I care?” Because oh yes, I CARE.) But does it really matter? I don’t like to play games. Either you want to be here or not. I don’t want people to come visit my blog just because they have become friends with me on Twitter and suddenly feel obligated. Shouldn’t the material just speak for itself? If you like it, fine. If not, fine. Right?
Finally, the author mentioned how Twitter can give you information that you won’t get anywhere else. I’m sure she’s right, which is why, for the first time ever, I logged on to Twitter. But when I got there I didn’t really know where to start. So I sat for a second and stared at the search button. What do I want to know about? And then it hit me. Hemorrhoids. I should totally do a search on hemorrhoids! Because I am getting older you know, and according to all the commercials this is bound to become a problem at some point and heaven forbid that Twitter holds all the answers to a cure and I’m stuck at home leafing through my AARP pamphlet and rummaging for Preparation-H. I typed it in.
H-e-m-o-r-r-h-o-i-d-s.
It produced exactly 0 results. Really, Twitter? Is that all you’ve got? So that was it and I walked away from my computer. I’m pretty sure I’m missing the big picture on this but at least now when people ask, “Have you ever gone on Twitter?” I can say, “Yes! Yes I have!” like the rest of the world. I might try again later but for now, I’m calling it good.
Friday, February 26, 2010
I'm not a very big deal, but Sue is
Blog giveaways are a nice way to get free stuff; or so I've heard. One time I scored a set of IKEA kitchen utensils from a blog giveaway, but that's about as far as I have been able to get. My other blog used to give away a bunch of cool stuff but I was never eligible, so instead we would give our readers things like season passes to Thanksgiving Point and spa treatments and I'd have to sit at home, read about the winner and go, "Yay, winner!" when what I really wanted to do was create a fake login so I could try and win it myself. But I didn't, because if I'm going to go to hell for cheating I'd like to score something better than a massage out of it.
The other thing I've noticed about blog giveaways is the more popular the blog, the cooler the stuff. Which is why if I did a giveaway it would be like, "Leave a comment and enter to win ALL THE GUM WE JUST SCRAPED OFF UNDER THE MIDDLE SCHOOL DESKS! Leave TWO comments and we'll throw in a BUMPIT! Already used by the cast of 'Jersey Shore', but STILL! A BUMPIT!" Which is why you should stick to blog giveaways on really good blogs, like Sue's. First up for grabs over there is a Targus 16" laptop backpack. Second on the list of possibilities: An HP Compaq Mini CQ10 Series Notebook. I KNOW! So, go check it out if you want to enter to win. I would love to be all supportive and say "Good Luck - I hope you win!" but the truth is I'm really hoping I get it, which is why I'm posting this link because it increases my chances. Nothing personal.
The other thing I've noticed about blog giveaways is the more popular the blog, the cooler the stuff. Which is why if I did a giveaway it would be like, "Leave a comment and enter to win ALL THE GUM WE JUST SCRAPED OFF UNDER THE MIDDLE SCHOOL DESKS! Leave TWO comments and we'll throw in a BUMPIT! Already used by the cast of 'Jersey Shore', but STILL! A BUMPIT!" Which is why you should stick to blog giveaways on really good blogs, like Sue's. First up for grabs over there is a Targus 16" laptop backpack. Second on the list of possibilities: An HP Compaq Mini CQ10 Series Notebook. I KNOW! So, go check it out if you want to enter to win. I would love to be all supportive and say "Good Luck - I hope you win!" but the truth is I'm really hoping I get it, which is why I'm posting this link because it increases my chances. Nothing personal.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wondering...
How is it that I am perfectly content smearing ketchup on my hash browns, but if I saw you try to put ketchup on a baked potato I would be like, "THAT IS SO SICK!"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Hearty Morning
I'm not really a hearts and butterflies kind of person. Last night Cory and I were watching a little TV and there was a girl who came on who was a little too happy for me and I said, "I bet she dots her i's with hearts." I don't know about you, but being too happy is kind of a deal breaker for me. I guess I just know too much about life to trust someone who smiles all the time. Like Amy Adams in "Enchanted" - I loved that movie, but only because I knew Amy was acting. If I met a person like that in real life we would not be friends because I would be too tempted to slap her and say, "You really should consider wearing a little more black."
So far, my daughter still dots her i's appropriately but I know the time is coming when hearts replace the period. There are definitely way too many smiley faces in her daily life than I care for, but somehow we still manage to get along. Yesterday morning as she descended our stairs after a fresh blanket of snow accumulated overnight, she looked out the window above our front door and said, "Look Mom! Hearts! In the snow!" I didn't necessarily jump out of my chair, but instead tried to politely oblige by climbing halfway up the stairs so I could at least pretend to be a good mom and see what had my daughter so pleased. This is what we saw:
I hate to admit it, but even I thought it was pretty cool! See? I'm not completely dead inside.
So far, my daughter still dots her i's appropriately but I know the time is coming when hearts replace the period. There are definitely way too many smiley faces in her daily life than I care for, but somehow we still manage to get along. Yesterday morning as she descended our stairs after a fresh blanket of snow accumulated overnight, she looked out the window above our front door and said, "Look Mom! Hearts! In the snow!" I didn't necessarily jump out of my chair, but instead tried to politely oblige by climbing halfway up the stairs so I could at least pretend to be a good mom and see what had my daughter so pleased. This is what we saw:
I hate to admit it, but even I thought it was pretty cool! See? I'm not completely dead inside.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Fired
I’ve been getting a lot of inquiries over the last few days (translation: my mom called) about why my other blog was suddenly suspended so I thought I would attempt a brief explanation. Here's the scoop. Basically, nie nie and cjane were sick and tired of us getting all of the attention, and I mean SICK. and TIRED. It was causing friction in their family and so for the good of the blogosphere we said ENOUGH ALREADY! We don’t want to break families up, we want to bring them TOGETHER! HOLDING HANDS! SINGING CUMBAYAH! DEDICATING SONGS TO EACH OTHER ON THE RADIO! FRIENDING EACH OTHER ON FACEBOOK TO PLAY MAFIA WARS AND START SNOWBALL FIGHTS AND BOND THROUGH SCRABBLE! So, Kacy, Lisa, Emily and I got together and prayed about it and decided that it would be best for all of us to quit.
Well, at least the part about my mom calling was true.
Truth be told, it was Dooce’s fault. She was all, “Stop being so righteous and profound. You guys make me SICK! All the people I’m turning away from the church are turning back to the church because you guys are so damn cool! (Dooce's words, not mine.) Stop it - you’re ruining everything!!!” And we were all, “Dude. She has a point. After all, the woman has sold more books than Tiger Woods had mistresses so the chick obviously knows what she’s talking about.”
So we listened. And we quit.
Well, at least the part about Tiger was true. And Dooce did sell a lot of books, bless her heart. Must be all those residual blessings from the good ol' days when she paid her tithing and worked on her Young Women's goals.
You know how people sometimes say that “Truth is stranger than fiction”? Well, unfortunately that’s not the case here. The REAL truth (serious this time) is that our blog was owned by a company and that company laid us off. (See what I mean? Boooorrring.) The bad news is that I am really going to miss working with such quality women. It was kind of like being that one girl at school who’s not that interesting but everyone likes her anyway because she hangs out with the popular crowd. I’ll miss that. The good news is that I’m sincerely looking forward to reconnecting here at Rabbit In The Headlights because I’ve missed you! And I’ve missed my rabbit. There’s something about those beady eyes that makes me want to throw him a little treat through the internet so he’ll stop looking so scared. It’s okay rabbit, momma’s back.
Well, at least the part about my mom calling was true.
Truth be told, it was Dooce’s fault. She was all, “Stop being so righteous and profound. You guys make me SICK! All the people I’m turning away from the church are turning back to the church because you guys are so damn cool! (Dooce's words, not mine.) Stop it - you’re ruining everything!!!” And we were all, “Dude. She has a point. After all, the woman has sold more books than Tiger Woods had mistresses so the chick obviously knows what she’s talking about.”
So we listened. And we quit.
Well, at least the part about Tiger was true. And Dooce did sell a lot of books, bless her heart. Must be all those residual blessings from the good ol' days when she paid her tithing and worked on her Young Women's goals.
You know how people sometimes say that “Truth is stranger than fiction”? Well, unfortunately that’s not the case here. The REAL truth (serious this time) is that our blog was owned by a company and that company laid us off. (See what I mean? Boooorrring.) The bad news is that I am really going to miss working with such quality women. It was kind of like being that one girl at school who’s not that interesting but everyone likes her anyway because she hangs out with the popular crowd. I’ll miss that. The good news is that I’m sincerely looking forward to reconnecting here at Rabbit In The Headlights because I’ve missed you! And I’ve missed my rabbit. There’s something about those beady eyes that makes me want to throw him a little treat through the internet so he’ll stop looking so scared. It’s okay rabbit, momma’s back.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The one where my mom plugs her ears and goes, “La la la!”
It was Drew’s last day off track so we decided to go to lunch, and with a brand new “5 Guys Burgers and Fries” down the street we knew just where to go. I had heard a lot about this place but had never been before, so I was curious to see what the fuss was all about. Guy #1 took my order and was very pleasant. He said, “sure”, “you betcha”, “thank you” and “you’re welcome” at all the right times, and let me put whatever I wanted on my hamburger for no extra charge. Jalapenos? BBQ sauce? Grilled onions? I could have had all of it, except I think those are all gross so when I said “no thanks” he said “no problem!” Good job Guy #1. Guy #2 shaped my never-before-frozen-fresh-from-the-pasture ground beef patty. It was delightfully not perfect and tasty to my lips. Guy #3 made my fries, which on that particular day came from potatoes from Shelley, Idaho. At least that’s what the sign said, and I don’t think any of those 5 Guys would lie to me. Guy #4 grilled our burgers and Guy #5 called our number. His voice was very loud and I heard him perfectly – they must have interviewed lots of guys before finding just the right Guy #5.
Drew proceeded to the drink station where he concocted his soda elixir of Coke, Cherry Coke, Root Beer, Mr. Pibb, and Diet Coke all in the same cup. Nice. As we filled a cup with ketchup for our fries I spotted several bottles of something called “Malt Vinegar” on the counter. I asked Guy #3 behind the counter what it was for, and he said, “Oh, it’s really good on your fries. Just put some in a cup and dip it like you do with the ketchup.” Not one to miss out on a certain delicacy, I gave it a go. As Drew and I sat down he asked me about the malt vinegar, and we had the following conversation:
Drew: “What IS that?”
Me: “It’s malt vinegar. They said it’s good on fries so I wanted to try it.”
[dip fry into cup]
Me: “Ew. It’s not good.”
Drew: “Here, let me try.”
[dips fry into cup]
*choke!* gasp! * Drew lunges for his drink and drowns himself in CokeMr.PibbRootBeer.
Drew: “That’s disGUSting!”
Me: “Told ya.”
Drew: “I mean, it tastes like…like… salty pee and vinegar!”
Me: “Salty pee? As opposed to what?”
Drew: “Well, you know how pee is really salty?”
Me: “Uh…how do you know that exactly?”
Drew: “Because A____ told me once that when he went to the bathroom he had an accident and some of his pee accidentally got in his mouth and that it tasted salty.”
Me: (?????) “How does pee get in your mouth when you have an ‘accident’?”
Drew: “I don’t know, maybe he was just standing there and things started to go everywhere and he opened his mouth like, ‘Aaaah! I’m having an accident!’ and then the pee saw his mouth open and went, ‘Hey look, a cool cave!’ and it just jumped in there.”
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that yes, 5 Guys Burgers And Fries was tasty, no I don’t recommend the malt vinegar, and even though the five guys all did a nice job taking care of us, my favorite guy was sitting at my table already.
Drew proceeded to the drink station where he concocted his soda elixir of Coke, Cherry Coke, Root Beer, Mr. Pibb, and Diet Coke all in the same cup. Nice. As we filled a cup with ketchup for our fries I spotted several bottles of something called “Malt Vinegar” on the counter. I asked Guy #3 behind the counter what it was for, and he said, “Oh, it’s really good on your fries. Just put some in a cup and dip it like you do with the ketchup.” Not one to miss out on a certain delicacy, I gave it a go. As Drew and I sat down he asked me about the malt vinegar, and we had the following conversation:
Drew: “What IS that?”
Me: “It’s malt vinegar. They said it’s good on fries so I wanted to try it.”
[dip fry into cup]
Me: “Ew. It’s not good.”
Drew: “Here, let me try.”
[dips fry into cup]
*choke!* gasp! * Drew lunges for his drink and drowns himself in CokeMr.PibbRootBeer.
Drew: “That’s disGUSting!”
Me: “Told ya.”
Drew: “I mean, it tastes like…like… salty pee and vinegar!”
Me: “Salty pee? As opposed to what?”
Drew: “Well, you know how pee is really salty?”
Me: “Uh…how do you know that exactly?”
Drew: “Because A____ told me once that when he went to the bathroom he had an accident and some of his pee accidentally got in his mouth and that it tasted salty.”
Me: (?????) “How does pee get in your mouth when you have an ‘accident’?”
Drew: “I don’t know, maybe he was just standing there and things started to go everywhere and he opened his mouth like, ‘Aaaah! I’m having an accident!’ and then the pee saw his mouth open and went, ‘Hey look, a cool cave!’ and it just jumped in there.”
So I guess what I’m trying to say is that yes, 5 Guys Burgers And Fries was tasty, no I don’t recommend the malt vinegar, and even though the five guys all did a nice job taking care of us, my favorite guy was sitting at my table already.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Because I Don't Do Twitter And You Can't Make Me
Hey, just because I took a "Are You A Chocoholic?" quiz on the comcast homepage and noticed that they misspelled "Ghirardelli" does NOT mean I have a problem.
Does it?
Does it?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Five Dollar Fedora
While getting Drew ready to take a field trip with a friend this morning I handed him a ten dollar bill.
"Here's some money to get in. You will only need about half that so bring back the change."
"Awww, man! I can't buy any toys at the gift shoppe?"
"No."
"What if I'm hungry and I need food?"
"That's why I packed you a lunch."
"But, what if they have fedoras for five bucks?"
(???)
"Okay, if they are selling fedoras for five dollars at the gift store then you may buy one."
He was satisfied after that. I love it when they think they win.
"Here's some money to get in. You will only need about half that so bring back the change."
"Awww, man! I can't buy any toys at the gift shoppe?"
"No."
"What if I'm hungry and I need food?"
"That's why I packed you a lunch."
"But, what if they have fedoras for five bucks?"
(???)
"Okay, if they are selling fedoras for five dollars at the gift store then you may buy one."
He was satisfied after that. I love it when they think they win.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
If You Guessed "A"...
...you were wrong. Gross! How stupid do you think I am? Let's not answer that for now. Actually, the majority were correct in guessing "B" - I burned my forehead while talking on the phone. It's sad because it means my kids are right; I am on the phone ALL THE TIME. I haven't figured out exactly why that is other than to dream that I am so much fun that people just want to hear my voice on a daily basis. (Reality check: NOT.) So it kind of begs the question, who am I talking to all the time?
Mom and Dad: Just yesterday I called my parents to tell my Dad that I was visiting with someone new at church and we found out that her husband and my Dad taught in the same school district for decades, and did my dad know the guy who just died? In fact, he did! Is it wrong to use an exclamation point there? I'm not excited that the guy died, just surprised at how small this world can be sometimes.
Siblings: I talk to both of my sisters regularly. We discuss what kind of bread has the fewest Weight Watchers points, which kid we like the best (kidding!), how old Robert Redford looks these days, and who has the nicest house of all the Real Housewives (not really, but it's Vicki - the nicest house goes to the biggest wench - shameful that I know anything about this). I talk to my brothers less frequently, but I have one who calls regularly and every phone call from him is like investing in laughter therapy. Another one called recently during my hysterectomy recovery to tell me that he had kidney stones. We swapped morphine stories and prayed each night that the other might experience relief soon. Awesome.
Friends: Sometimes we call with unfolding tales of drama in our lives, other times we call to share mind numbing realities. Like when my friend recently phoned after she moved away to say that she had discovered something like 9 gnomes in her yard from the previous owners. "Who does that?" is a question that frequently gets tossed around.
My OBGYN: Hey doc? Why am I infecting all the time now in all things and in all places as I strive to live? And whatever happened to your wife who used to work here? And how did you end up having another child in your 50's?
The radio station: I try to win stuff occasionally. I am not as cool as my friend Paige who has won freakin' Disney cruises for her family of 6 and limousine rides, but I've been known to win a free dinner or two. Hi Dom and Jane! Did you get my Christmas card?
So yes, the other morning I was getting ready to go somewhere when the phone rang. I only had a few minutes before I needed to leave and I still needed to straighten my hair with my flatiron. I debated.
Don't answer it.
But what if it's George asking me out for the premiere of his new movie?
*ring*ring*
Don't answer it.
But what if it's Bill Gates calling me back to tell me he's donating to my "No Chocolate Left Behind" charity?
*ring*ring*
Don't answer it!
Oh! I bet it's Matthew calling back to tell me when he can come over to rub this kink out of my neck. It's been KILLING me!
[picking up the phone] "Hello?"
[It's my friend.] "Do you know what I HATE?"
"Finding 4 foot crafted easter bunnies in your basement, having an ice cream store that closes at 4pm in your small town, your kids raising chickens at their new school, and that New Kids On The Block broke up?"
"Yes, but you know what ELSE?"
And that's how I burned my head trying to straighten my hair one handed.
Mom and Dad: Just yesterday I called my parents to tell my Dad that I was visiting with someone new at church and we found out that her husband and my Dad taught in the same school district for decades, and did my dad know the guy who just died? In fact, he did! Is it wrong to use an exclamation point there? I'm not excited that the guy died, just surprised at how small this world can be sometimes.
Siblings: I talk to both of my sisters regularly. We discuss what kind of bread has the fewest Weight Watchers points, which kid we like the best (kidding!), how old Robert Redford looks these days, and who has the nicest house of all the Real Housewives (not really, but it's Vicki - the nicest house goes to the biggest wench - shameful that I know anything about this). I talk to my brothers less frequently, but I have one who calls regularly and every phone call from him is like investing in laughter therapy. Another one called recently during my hysterectomy recovery to tell me that he had kidney stones. We swapped morphine stories and prayed each night that the other might experience relief soon. Awesome.
Friends: Sometimes we call with unfolding tales of drama in our lives, other times we call to share mind numbing realities. Like when my friend recently phoned after she moved away to say that she had discovered something like 9 gnomes in her yard from the previous owners. "Who does that?" is a question that frequently gets tossed around.
My OBGYN: Hey doc? Why am I infecting all the time now in all things and in all places as I strive to live? And whatever happened to your wife who used to work here? And how did you end up having another child in your 50's?
The radio station: I try to win stuff occasionally. I am not as cool as my friend Paige who has won freakin' Disney cruises for her family of 6 and limousine rides, but I've been known to win a free dinner or two. Hi Dom and Jane! Did you get my Christmas card?
So yes, the other morning I was getting ready to go somewhere when the phone rang. I only had a few minutes before I needed to leave and I still needed to straighten my hair with my flatiron. I debated.
Don't answer it.
But what if it's George asking me out for the premiere of his new movie?
*ring*ring*
Don't answer it.
But what if it's Bill Gates calling me back to tell me he's donating to my "No Chocolate Left Behind" charity?
*ring*ring*
Don't answer it!
Oh! I bet it's Matthew calling back to tell me when he can come over to rub this kink out of my neck. It's been KILLING me!
[picking up the phone] "Hello?"
[It's my friend.] "Do you know what I HATE?"
"Finding 4 foot crafted easter bunnies in your basement, having an ice cream store that closes at 4pm in your small town, your kids raising chickens at their new school, and that New Kids On The Block broke up?"
"Yes, but you know what ELSE?"
And that's how I burned my head trying to straighten my hair one handed.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Is That Your Face Or Did Your Neck Just Throw Up?
I ran into a little trouble this morning and ended up with a little extra fixture on my forehead for a while. What happened, you ask? I'm going to let you vote. See the poll to the right - I'll give you until Friday to guess and then I'll tell you the right answer.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Most Fascinating People of 2009
Barbara Walters is at it again. With the year coming to a close she’s rolling out her list and interviews with what she calls the 10 Most Fascinating People of the year. The thing with me is that I don’t use the word “fascinating” frivolously. Maybe I’m just hard to impress, but if you’re telling me something is fascinating then it had better be good. Like the one time I was watching Planet Earth on blu ray and they were showing the mating call of a particular bird – the male got all gussied up in front of another female bird, and in an effort to gain her affection spread his feathers and showed all his pretty colors and made his best squawking sound and then the female bird was all, *talk to the hand* and walked away. THAT was fascinating because I DID NOT KNOW that birds went to 7th grade. I almost felt bad for every boy I had ever turned down in high school until I remembered, “Oh yeah, I never did that because nobody ever tried to date me.” BUT! THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME, this is about Barbara Walters and her cockamamie list of Most Fascinating People of 2009.
The problem with this list of people is that it’s not really about being fascinating, it’s basically about high school. Featuring the prettiest, the most controversial, the victim, and even the all star quarterback, Walters’ Most Fascinating People is almost like watching “The Breakfast Club” for the stars. It’s mostly a popularity contest, because if Barbara was truly in search of the most fascinating people she would have interviewed the old guy at my Wal Mart who stands in the front holding a red lunch pail. Nobody really knows what he’s doing there, but I bet if Barbara could take him aside she might find out some pretty cool stuff. But no, her list is about, for better or for worse, who made the front page.
For example, a woman named Jenny Sanford made the list. The first lady of South Carolina, her husband had an affair with a woman from Argentina and everything hit the fan. Sad? Sure. Devastating? Of course. Fascinating? Not since Bravo TV debuted. Next up, Brett Favre. He quit, he came back. He quit, he came back. Come on Brett, show me something Pamela Anderson CAN’T do.
Another on the list, Sarah Palin. I’m annoyed with how much attention gets paid to her physical beauty. What??! You’re smart AND pretty? AND you have KIDS? HOW ON EARTH DO YOU DO IT ALL? Hey Barbara, let me introduce you to like, all of my friends.
And then came Adam Lambert. He’s gay and he can sing. Fascinating? I don’t think so. Have you never heard of George Michael? I guess it just goes to show what a little more range and a lot more eyeliner can do.
Kate Gosselin. Please. Don’t get me started.
Tyler Perry. Not the first guy to survive an abusive father and make something of himself. While I congratulate him, I’d be just as interested in an interview with the longest reigning mall Santa.
Glenn Beck. He speaks his mind and cries a lot. Put me on the TV/radio and I’ll show you much of the same, with less historical knowledge and cuter hair.
Lady Gaga. She wears bubble dresses and wings on stage and some speculate that she is a transvestite. Not someone I really want to hang out with, but fascinating? We might be getting closer.
Michelle Obama. Sorry, but I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s raising two kids, just like me, except her mom lives with her and they have a much nicer house. Plus, her husband travels a lot. (They really ARE just like us!) So, she doesn’t wear frumpy First Lady suits. I can see why Clint and Stacy would be impressed, but it’s not like I don’t know how to shop at Dress Barn too.
Finally, Barbara pulls a fast one on us and does a three for the price of one trick, kind of like a Bath & Body Works sale, as she names ALL THREE of Michael Jackson’s children. *sigh* Really Barbara? Here’s what I think happened. I think that ABC wanted to feature Michael Jackson on this list, but somewhere in a boardroom one day a few Dilberts came up with a list of official rules for the Top 10 Most Fascinating People and one rule was that a person featured must currently be alive. But Michael Jackson was JUST! SO! IMPORTANT! that they wanted to feature him anyway, but in order to stick to the rules and not have to deal with the management over the issue they would just pick his kids instead. Because let’s face it, none of us even saw his kids until the funeral, and we’ve never heard them say anything, and if that’s grounds for “fascinating” then there are mutes everywhere right now who should be offended that they didn’t also get a call.
I hope Barbara doesn’t take any of this personally. Just because she talks funny and has a talk show that I loathe (Hi The View! You women drive me crazy! Except you Elisabeth, I loved you in “Survivor”), doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to have dinner with her. As long as she’s paying.
The problem with this list of people is that it’s not really about being fascinating, it’s basically about high school. Featuring the prettiest, the most controversial, the victim, and even the all star quarterback, Walters’ Most Fascinating People is almost like watching “The Breakfast Club” for the stars. It’s mostly a popularity contest, because if Barbara was truly in search of the most fascinating people she would have interviewed the old guy at my Wal Mart who stands in the front holding a red lunch pail. Nobody really knows what he’s doing there, but I bet if Barbara could take him aside she might find out some pretty cool stuff. But no, her list is about, for better or for worse, who made the front page.
For example, a woman named Jenny Sanford made the list. The first lady of South Carolina, her husband had an affair with a woman from Argentina and everything hit the fan. Sad? Sure. Devastating? Of course. Fascinating? Not since Bravo TV debuted. Next up, Brett Favre. He quit, he came back. He quit, he came back. Come on Brett, show me something Pamela Anderson CAN’T do.
Another on the list, Sarah Palin. I’m annoyed with how much attention gets paid to her physical beauty. What??! You’re smart AND pretty? AND you have KIDS? HOW ON EARTH DO YOU DO IT ALL? Hey Barbara, let me introduce you to like, all of my friends.
And then came Adam Lambert. He’s gay and he can sing. Fascinating? I don’t think so. Have you never heard of George Michael? I guess it just goes to show what a little more range and a lot more eyeliner can do.
Kate Gosselin. Please. Don’t get me started.
Tyler Perry. Not the first guy to survive an abusive father and make something of himself. While I congratulate him, I’d be just as interested in an interview with the longest reigning mall Santa.
Glenn Beck. He speaks his mind and cries a lot. Put me on the TV/radio and I’ll show you much of the same, with less historical knowledge and cuter hair.
Lady Gaga. She wears bubble dresses and wings on stage and some speculate that she is a transvestite. Not someone I really want to hang out with, but fascinating? We might be getting closer.
Michelle Obama. Sorry, but I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s raising two kids, just like me, except her mom lives with her and they have a much nicer house. Plus, her husband travels a lot. (They really ARE just like us!) So, she doesn’t wear frumpy First Lady suits. I can see why Clint and Stacy would be impressed, but it’s not like I don’t know how to shop at Dress Barn too.
Finally, Barbara pulls a fast one on us and does a three for the price of one trick, kind of like a Bath & Body Works sale, as she names ALL THREE of Michael Jackson’s children. *sigh* Really Barbara? Here’s what I think happened. I think that ABC wanted to feature Michael Jackson on this list, but somewhere in a boardroom one day a few Dilberts came up with a list of official rules for the Top 10 Most Fascinating People and one rule was that a person featured must currently be alive. But Michael Jackson was JUST! SO! IMPORTANT! that they wanted to feature him anyway, but in order to stick to the rules and not have to deal with the management over the issue they would just pick his kids instead. Because let’s face it, none of us even saw his kids until the funeral, and we’ve never heard them say anything, and if that’s grounds for “fascinating” then there are mutes everywhere right now who should be offended that they didn’t also get a call.
I hope Barbara doesn’t take any of this personally. Just because she talks funny and has a talk show that I loathe (Hi The View! You women drive me crazy! Except you Elisabeth, I loved you in “Survivor”), doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to have dinner with her. As long as she’s paying.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas
My sister called about a week ago and without a lot of time to chit chat, she asked, "Okay, I just have to know - did you really send this card out to everyone on your Christmas card list?"
"Yes," I answered with confidence and a chuckle. "Yes, I did."
"Wow," she said. "I can't believe you had the guts to actually do it."
Weird, I thought she knew me better than that. I have discovered that the only problem with having two blogs is that come Christmas time, I really have nothing left to say. Last year I managed to squeak out a few highlights and jokes that weren't otherwise shared, but this year...this year I was tired and out of ideas. Not to mention, Christmas and I have a rocky relationship and I have been trying VERY HARD, almost as hard as Tiger Woods has tried to keep his pants on I have tried to keep a healthy perspective this year. I am happy to report that I have been surprisingly successful, assisted in part by experiences such as this. I let Drew decorate part of the mantle, I allowed Samantha to take over the baking of sugar cookies, and I even let Cory hang the most ridiculous strand of blue icicle lights off of our back patio without saying anything. Well, at least I waited a few days. DO YOU SEE HOW ALL GROWN UP I AM?
But in the midst of all this growth I could not for the life of me find the heart to sit down and eke out a Christmas letter worth reading. SO. Instead I came up with the most genius three lines I could think of, slapped our family photo (courtesy of my talented niece Brianne) on a card and called it a day. This is our picture:
Here was the message we scripted on the back:
I've gained weight
Cory's going bald
Our kids are average
I know, right? GENIUS, if I do say so myself. And I do.
Hope your Christmas is everything you hoped it would be and more.
"Yes," I answered with confidence and a chuckle. "Yes, I did."
"Wow," she said. "I can't believe you had the guts to actually do it."
Weird, I thought she knew me better than that. I have discovered that the only problem with having two blogs is that come Christmas time, I really have nothing left to say. Last year I managed to squeak out a few highlights and jokes that weren't otherwise shared, but this year...this year I was tired and out of ideas. Not to mention, Christmas and I have a rocky relationship and I have been trying VERY HARD, almost as hard as Tiger Woods has tried to keep his pants on I have tried to keep a healthy perspective this year. I am happy to report that I have been surprisingly successful, assisted in part by experiences such as this. I let Drew decorate part of the mantle, I allowed Samantha to take over the baking of sugar cookies, and I even let Cory hang the most ridiculous strand of blue icicle lights off of our back patio without saying anything. Well, at least I waited a few days. DO YOU SEE HOW ALL GROWN UP I AM?
But in the midst of all this growth I could not for the life of me find the heart to sit down and eke out a Christmas letter worth reading. SO. Instead I came up with the most genius three lines I could think of, slapped our family photo (courtesy of my talented niece Brianne) on a card and called it a day. This is our picture:
Here was the message we scripted on the back:
I've gained weight
Cory's going bald
Our kids are average
Merry Christmas!
I know, right? GENIUS, if I do say so myself. And I do.
Hope your Christmas is everything you hoped it would be and more.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Twilight Meets Singles Ward
If you have not been following Twilight (hi mom) you will not think this is funny. If you are not a Mormon, you will probably not get this. On the other hand, if you're a Mormon who knows enough about Twilight to know the difference between a "Quileute" and a "Quaalude" then you will appreciate this. If you are a Mormon Twilight fanatic, you just hit the jackpot. This is made from 100% pure organic awesome. (Thanks Carly!)
Twilight Years from Tom on Vimeo.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
It's My Birthday
Engine engine number 9
Today I’m thirty freakin’ nine
I think my brain has jumped the track
Control of my bladder is all out of whack
My last year in my 30’s, there’s a lot here at stake,
While I deem what to do, I think I’ll eat cake.
Today I’m thirty freakin’ nine
I think my brain has jumped the track
Control of my bladder is all out of whack
My last year in my 30’s, there’s a lot here at stake,
While I deem what to do, I think I’ll eat cake.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
The Legend Of Jiffy Bobby
Cory’s car needed new tires, so we traded vehicles for the day and I spent the morning calling around to comparison shop. I started with my favorite, Discount Tire.
“Thanks for calling Discount Tire, this is Bobby.” I asked several questions, he gave me all the answers, and I called store number two.
“Thanks for calling Big-O Tires, this is Bob.” I chuckled to myself that I had two “Bob’s” in a row, but suppressed my thoughts to ask all the relevant questions. After hanging up I wondered, “What are the odds that I would get TWO ‘Bobby’s’ in a ROW?” And then I took it a step further and thought, “I wonder how many other tire stores I would have to call before I found another one?” And just like that, I made a game for me to play. My strategy: I would call more stores to see how they answered, and as soon as I heard their name I would say, “Oops! Sorry, I got the wrong number.” It would be my very scientific way to gather data. I started with a store called Colorado Tire.
*ring*ring* “Thanks for calling Colorado Tire, this is TOM.”
“Sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number,” I said.
“No problem,” Tom replied. Good job Tom.
STRIKE ONE.
*ring*ring* “Hello, it’s a great day to get two for one tires at Tires Plus, this is JEFF.”
STRIKE TWO.
I opted for a different location of Discount Tire and dialed the number.
“Thanks for calling Discount Tire, this is AARON.”
STRIKE THREE.
Isn’t this riveting? I’m telling you, ever since I quit working as a professional after having kids I have ONLY GOTTEN SMARTER. (Gotten?) And more interesting. And more…well, trust me I could go ON AND ON.
I moved on to my second location for Big O.
*ring*ring* “Welcome to Big O Tires, THIS IS BOBBY.” (!!!)
JACKPOT!!! I chimed in with my rehearsed, “Sorry, wrong number” routine then hung up and laughed to myself while I sat on the couch with HGTV on “Pause”.
BUT WAIT! The game is not over! I was on a high. Imagine how it felt to know that I, VERN, was the first to discover (after all of that scientific evidence) that if your name is Bobby you have a 50% chance of working in a tire store at some point in your life. But I knew there was more, because everyone knows that more than one person works at a tire store, but only one person can answer the phone at a time. So the only way, scientifically I mean, to prove my theory was to call back those other stores and ASK for Bobby, to make sure I didn’t miss one. I started with the 2nd store on my list, Tires Plus….
*ring*ring* “Thanks for calling Tires Plus, this is Pat can I help you?”
“Hi, is Bobby there?”
“Yup, hold on a sec,” he said.
I hung up before bursting out laughing. Not only was I cracking myself up, but I was becoming acutely aware of how much I needed to get a life. The next two places turned out to be duds, but all in all my scientific evidence had proven a 67% chance of working in a tire store if your name is Bobby. I wonder if they’re hiring any “Vern’s”.
“Thanks for calling Discount Tire, this is Bobby.” I asked several questions, he gave me all the answers, and I called store number two.
“Thanks for calling Big-O Tires, this is Bob.” I chuckled to myself that I had two “Bob’s” in a row, but suppressed my thoughts to ask all the relevant questions. After hanging up I wondered, “What are the odds that I would get TWO ‘Bobby’s’ in a ROW?” And then I took it a step further and thought, “I wonder how many other tire stores I would have to call before I found another one?” And just like that, I made a game for me to play. My strategy: I would call more stores to see how they answered, and as soon as I heard their name I would say, “Oops! Sorry, I got the wrong number.” It would be my very scientific way to gather data. I started with a store called Colorado Tire.
*ring*ring* “Thanks for calling Colorado Tire, this is TOM.”
“Sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number,” I said.
“No problem,” Tom replied. Good job Tom.
STRIKE ONE.
*ring*ring* “Hello, it’s a great day to get two for one tires at Tires Plus, this is JEFF.”
STRIKE TWO.
I opted for a different location of Discount Tire and dialed the number.
“Thanks for calling Discount Tire, this is AARON.”
STRIKE THREE.
Isn’t this riveting? I’m telling you, ever since I quit working as a professional after having kids I have ONLY GOTTEN SMARTER. (Gotten?) And more interesting. And more…well, trust me I could go ON AND ON.
I moved on to my second location for Big O.
*ring*ring* “Welcome to Big O Tires, THIS IS BOBBY.” (!!!)
JACKPOT!!! I chimed in with my rehearsed, “Sorry, wrong number” routine then hung up and laughed to myself while I sat on the couch with HGTV on “Pause”.
BUT WAIT! The game is not over! I was on a high. Imagine how it felt to know that I, VERN, was the first to discover (after all of that scientific evidence) that if your name is Bobby you have a 50% chance of working in a tire store at some point in your life. But I knew there was more, because everyone knows that more than one person works at a tire store, but only one person can answer the phone at a time. So the only way, scientifically I mean, to prove my theory was to call back those other stores and ASK for Bobby, to make sure I didn’t miss one. I started with the 2nd store on my list, Tires Plus….
*ring*ring* “Thanks for calling Tires Plus, this is Pat can I help you?”
“Hi, is Bobby there?”
“Yup, hold on a sec,” he said.
I hung up before bursting out laughing. Not only was I cracking myself up, but I was becoming acutely aware of how much I needed to get a life. The next two places turned out to be duds, but all in all my scientific evidence had proven a 67% chance of working in a tire store if your name is Bobby. I wonder if they’re hiring any “Vern’s”.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Corn Maze
This little gem comes from my friend Deb, who sends me all sorts of hilarious stuff - not all of which is suitable for sharing. Mostly I just wanted to put something up that didn't have the word "hysterectomy" in it. Oops. Maybe next time.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
I Think I'll Sell My Tampons On Craigslist
I’m not gonna lie, I slept through General Conference. But if I told you the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me Elder Packer, I should also explain that I slept through General Conference ON A GURNEY. So I’m kinda thinking I get a free pass.
My Thursday morning that week started out normally. Kids off to school? Check. Update my Facebook Scrabble game? Check. Look in the mirror and weigh the pros and cons of plastic surgery? Check. Run 5 miles? Don’t be silly. Then, somewhere between a double word score and self loathing I felt my abdomen begin to cramp. Soon after, what started out as mild discomfort led to, “Holy crap, I think my abdomen was a client of Bernie Madoff’s because it’s @#!*% .” Not knowing what to do I got on the phone and called my friend Ganelle – through sobs I tried to explain what was happening which resulted in her mandate, “Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
Thirty minutes later we stood in the ER entrance and I began peeing in cups and describing my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. (say 8! say 8!) Hmm…. “With ONE being that I never got the good stuff in my school lunches, and TEN being the Holocaust, I’m somewhere between never going to Homecoming and Columbine.” A little later, before the CT scan but after the incident where Ganelle pulled my gown over my legs in opposition to our “friendship knows no boundaries” clause, (turns out there ARE boundaries, and they stop short of the upper thigh being exposed through the light blue tent that one is given to wear when vacationing in the ER) Ganelle was also found holding my hair while I threw up into a pink, plastic bin. It was glorious, I tell you.
When my doctor finally showed up and took my information, he announced that we would be conducting a CT scan and whisked me off to see Jack, the CT Scan guy. “Hi Jack,” I gestured. “Don’t say that on an airplane!” he laughed. Something told me Jack only knew one joke. But he was nice, especially when he said, “We’ll be injecting your body with dye – you’ll feel warm and fuzzy inside, and then you will most likely feel like you’re wetting your pants.” I was all, “Dude, I just threw up on my best friend, what’s a little bed wetting incident with a guy who can’t do airports?” It was quick and painless, and even though I DID feel like I was wetting myself, I wasn’t. Not to worry, I would soon be cozying up with a catheter anyway.
The results were in. I had a mass on my ovary. Was it cancerous? We didn’t know. It was about the size of an orange (always with the fruit comparisons), had damaged the only ovary I had left beyond repair, and needed to come out immediately. I was admitted that night, had surgery the next morning, and came home from the hospital a few days later. At the end of the day, I did NOT have cancer (phew) but they ended up taking out all my lady parts, and closed me up with eighteen staples in my stomach and mailed me an invitation to menopause.
In the ensuing weeks I was flooded with good deeds from friends, neighbors and family. My parents flew to my rescue, did my laundry, and made me fresh guacamole. Another friend, conveniently an owner of a Cold Stone Creamery, dropped by and left me a couple of gallons of coping skills with names like "Cake Batter" and "Brownies". After my parents left another woman showed up on my doorstep to vacuum and mop, and countless others gave my kids rides, dropped off treats, called to check on me and scoured my kitchen sinks. The amount of help I received during those long and painful weeks was humbling. I don’t think I could have felt more supported if I had been standing in a warehouse of jock straps.
I guess the only thing left to do is figure out what to do with my year supply of tampons. The going rate on Craigslist hardly seems worth meeting at a shady Wal Mart. I've heard they're good for bullet wounds, but I'm not super interested in putting that to the test. Perhaps I could hang on to them in the hopes of bartering one day during the Zombie Apocolypse. If there's anything worse than a Zombie Apocolypse I imagine it would be an Apocolypse where the Zombies are ON THEIR PERIODS. Maybe they would spare my life for a few Playtex Glides?
THE POINT IS.
I'm ok now. Guacamole and ice cream have that effect on me.
My Thursday morning that week started out normally. Kids off to school? Check. Update my Facebook Scrabble game? Check. Look in the mirror and weigh the pros and cons of plastic surgery? Check. Run 5 miles? Don’t be silly. Then, somewhere between a double word score and self loathing I felt my abdomen begin to cramp. Soon after, what started out as mild discomfort led to, “Holy crap, I think my abdomen was a client of Bernie Madoff’s because it’s @#!*% .” Not knowing what to do I got on the phone and called my friend Ganelle – through sobs I tried to explain what was happening which resulted in her mandate, “Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
Thirty minutes later we stood in the ER entrance and I began peeing in cups and describing my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. (say 8! say 8!) Hmm…. “With ONE being that I never got the good stuff in my school lunches, and TEN being the Holocaust, I’m somewhere between never going to Homecoming and Columbine.” A little later, before the CT scan but after the incident where Ganelle pulled my gown over my legs in opposition to our “friendship knows no boundaries” clause, (turns out there ARE boundaries, and they stop short of the upper thigh being exposed through the light blue tent that one is given to wear when vacationing in the ER) Ganelle was also found holding my hair while I threw up into a pink, plastic bin. It was glorious, I tell you.
When my doctor finally showed up and took my information, he announced that we would be conducting a CT scan and whisked me off to see Jack, the CT Scan guy. “Hi Jack,” I gestured. “Don’t say that on an airplane!” he laughed. Something told me Jack only knew one joke. But he was nice, especially when he said, “We’ll be injecting your body with dye – you’ll feel warm and fuzzy inside, and then you will most likely feel like you’re wetting your pants.” I was all, “Dude, I just threw up on my best friend, what’s a little bed wetting incident with a guy who can’t do airports?” It was quick and painless, and even though I DID feel like I was wetting myself, I wasn’t. Not to worry, I would soon be cozying up with a catheter anyway.
The results were in. I had a mass on my ovary. Was it cancerous? We didn’t know. It was about the size of an orange (always with the fruit comparisons), had damaged the only ovary I had left beyond repair, and needed to come out immediately. I was admitted that night, had surgery the next morning, and came home from the hospital a few days later. At the end of the day, I did NOT have cancer (phew) but they ended up taking out all my lady parts, and closed me up with eighteen staples in my stomach and mailed me an invitation to menopause.
In the ensuing weeks I was flooded with good deeds from friends, neighbors and family. My parents flew to my rescue, did my laundry, and made me fresh guacamole. Another friend, conveniently an owner of a Cold Stone Creamery, dropped by and left me a couple of gallons of coping skills with names like "Cake Batter" and "Brownies". After my parents left another woman showed up on my doorstep to vacuum and mop, and countless others gave my kids rides, dropped off treats, called to check on me and scoured my kitchen sinks. The amount of help I received during those long and painful weeks was humbling. I don’t think I could have felt more supported if I had been standing in a warehouse of jock straps.
I guess the only thing left to do is figure out what to do with my year supply of tampons. The going rate on Craigslist hardly seems worth meeting at a shady Wal Mart. I've heard they're good for bullet wounds, but I'm not super interested in putting that to the test. Perhaps I could hang on to them in the hopes of bartering one day during the Zombie Apocolypse. If there's anything worse than a Zombie Apocolypse I imagine it would be an Apocolypse where the Zombies are ON THEIR PERIODS. Maybe they would spare my life for a few Playtex Glides?
THE POINT IS.
I'm ok now. Guacamole and ice cream have that effect on me.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
This Is NOT A Newsflash
Sometime over the summer when I was busy not blogging on this blog I saw a headline on my Comcast homepage that said, “Michael Phelps Not Injured In Car Accident”. Ummm, kay? Hello Comcast homepage people, I have some very important information that you should carefully tuck away for others like me. Specifically, when you tell me about something that didn’t happen, I don’t really care, and I am not likely to click on your little link to hear the “Rest Of The Story….”
Can you imagine if I ran my blog this way? So lazy. In fact, let’s try it out. Here’s a little Top Ten List of things that did NOT happen to me in the last two months.
1. I did not get syphilis, which is fairly common when you’re not a tramp.
2. I did not lose the thirty pounds that I set out to drop by October. Hell, I didn’t even lose ONE of those thirty pounds. And I did not just say “hell”. (hi mom!)
3. I did not begin a love affair with soy nuts and barley, which is why number 2 didn’t work out. P.S. I didn’t work out much either, so I suppose soy and barley are only partially to blame.
4. I did not watch any episodes of “The Suite Life” with my kids.
5. Except that one time, but I was bored and we only have one television so SHUT IT. And Samantha did not say, “Um, Mom? You just laughed at Zach and Cody. That’s kinda sad.” (See what I mean Comcast? This is not riveting material.)
6. I did not rent “17 Again” and think that Zac Efron was hot. However, I may have rented “17 Again” and thought, “Dude, I am the same age as the actor who plays Zac Efron’s dad.”
7. I did not cry when Michael Jackson died.
8. I did not get my own reality show, but I do wish that TLC would stop calling me already.
9. I did not run into Hugh Jackman at the mall, have lunch with him at Paradise Bakery, or hold his hand at the movies. Come to think of it, Hugh and I didn’t do anything together all summer. WHAT is his PROBLEM?
10. I did not go to Hawaii, but my friend Kettie did and she went to my favorite Shave Ice place and ordered my favorite flavor and sent me a picture of it, so it’s almost like I was there. But I wasn’t.
Tune in next week when I’ll share my lists on “All The Guys I Never Dated” and “All The Vegetables I’ve Never Tried.”
Can you imagine if I ran my blog this way? So lazy. In fact, let’s try it out. Here’s a little Top Ten List of things that did NOT happen to me in the last two months.
1. I did not get syphilis, which is fairly common when you’re not a tramp.
2. I did not lose the thirty pounds that I set out to drop by October. Hell, I didn’t even lose ONE of those thirty pounds. And I did not just say “hell”. (hi mom!)
3. I did not begin a love affair with soy nuts and barley, which is why number 2 didn’t work out. P.S. I didn’t work out much either, so I suppose soy and barley are only partially to blame.
4. I did not watch any episodes of “The Suite Life” with my kids.
5. Except that one time, but I was bored and we only have one television so SHUT IT. And Samantha did not say, “Um, Mom? You just laughed at Zach and Cody. That’s kinda sad.” (See what I mean Comcast? This is not riveting material.)
6. I did not rent “17 Again” and think that Zac Efron was hot. However, I may have rented “17 Again” and thought, “Dude, I am the same age as the actor who plays Zac Efron’s dad.”
7. I did not cry when Michael Jackson died.
8. I did not get my own reality show, but I do wish that TLC would stop calling me already.
9. I did not run into Hugh Jackman at the mall, have lunch with him at Paradise Bakery, or hold his hand at the movies. Come to think of it, Hugh and I didn’t do anything together all summer. WHAT is his PROBLEM?
10. I did not go to Hawaii, but my friend Kettie did and she went to my favorite Shave Ice place and ordered my favorite flavor and sent me a picture of it, so it’s almost like I was there. But I wasn’t.
Tune in next week when I’ll share my lists on “All The Guys I Never Dated” and “All The Vegetables I’ve Never Tried.”
Monday, July 13, 2009
Cletus Take The Reel
Gathered with a group of moms this morning as we dropped off our daughters for Girl's Camp, my friend Bethany mentioned this following video on YouTube - I came home to check it out, and it must be shared! Check it...
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