...be VERY afraid.
I just realized something last night (no, not that)...I am about to freak my kids OUT.
(I know...freak out...split infinitive?...but I SAID what I MEANT.)
The Nice Kid plays tennis as her sport. This is primarily because the skirts are cute and tennis is the only lesson camp I could get her to regularly ;) The Not Nice Kid plays anything that involves coordination, and does it better than everyone else. So we didn't let her play tennis, because that is TNK's sport.
This parenting shit gets old real quick.
But, because they are five years apart in age, we are now at a point where they won't be competing in any aspect of tennis. So TNNK has taken up tennis, in order to give TNK a hitting partner. Also because she's pretty sure that within a year she'll kick TNK's ass, but I can't save every chicken. That's a preceding post.
Last night we go to the city courts so they can hit. And about 7:30 in walk three teenagers...two boys and a girl. Smoking.
SMOKING. How in the HELL are we STILL raising children who smoke? I mean...read the previous post!!! THIS SHIT KILLS YOU. And the people around you!!!! It's toxic chemicals, drawn into your body through your lungs. I thought we were EDUCATING our kids? How can this still be happening?
Duh.
There are four courts, with a divider separating the front two from the back two. We are on the front two. The Dumbasses go to the back two. Produce a football. Finish their butts. Throw a bit.
And then sit down to rest. My girls are still hitting balls, and the boys light up again. During their discussion, which my kids could hear, it turned out that they played on the local (losing) high school football team. They rest a while, get up and throw a (very short) while. Rest a while. Smoked a while.
I considered taking pictures with my phone but didn't...don't want to be responsible for the consequences. This is a small town. But then today? I got to thinking.
If at ANY time you ever see MY kid misbehaving? I want pictures. I want validation. I want backup when I shut down that phone, that computer and that social life. I want to be able to POINT to the pixels while screaming, "YOU DUMBASS."
THIS is what Facebook was invented for. Stalking. Watching your kids. Lurking.
Being a good parent ;(
30 September 2010
29 September 2010
Raining, Pouring
Two weeks ago my FIL was having trouble breathing, so he went see his doctor.
Actually, that isn't true. He didn't have a doctor, because he doesn't get annual physicals, so he went to his sister's doctor.
Doctor suspected congestive heart failure and admitted him to the hospital. Ran heart tests - they all came back negative. Took a chest x-ray...found a spot.
The spot on his lung, they said, was less than an inch long - very small and almost nothing to worry about even if it turns out to be cancer.
Did a biopsy...found it was, indeed, cancer.
No problem, they said - at that point several more doctors got involved. It's so small, it's only Stage One - early stage one, most likely.
They sent him home, told him to come back in a week to have the spot and a hunk of lung removed.
He went back on Monday. When they opened him up they found the tumor - much larger than one inch - wrapped around his pulmonary artery. And more tumors. Everywhere. His whole right lung is covered in them.
Can somebody explain to me why THAT wouldn't show up on an x-ray. And WTF is is wrong with doctors that they don't put a person through an MRI before cutting on him, so they know what they're in for once they open him up?
Anyway, they left the pulmonary tumor - the really big one - because they were afraid he'd bleed out on the table if they messed with the artery.
So they sewed him up and are sending him home in a couple of days with Stage Three lung cancer, a scrip for chemo and radiation, and their best wishes.
This. Is. Fucked. Up.
He's 66 years old. He doesn't even smoke, although he lives with a smoker...who lost half of one of her lungs 5 years ago and kept right on smoking, BTW.
But, cancer runs in the family and he isn't the first of his momma's children to get the lung variety.
So let's review: Cancer runs in your family, your sibs have died from it, and you live with a smoker, but you don't get a chest x-ray - or even a basic fucking physical - once a year.
We live in a first world country. Hell, we are the poster children for The First Fucking World.
Is our healthcare system unfair? Yes. Do I think we should have universal medicine? Absofuckinglutely. Does this have anything to do with MY family? Hell no. My FIL has had health insurance for the last 20 years and he has Medicare now.
Surely to God this was preventable. Even if it was inevitable that he was going to get cancer, it never should have had a chance to get this bad. It should have - probably could have - been caught ages ago.
But he didn't go to the doctor. Once a year. For an hour.
I know well-educated people my age who don't get physicals...or go to the dentist...and it blows my fucking mind. I know women to don't get PAPS for God's sake. Women who HAVE health insurance and spend twice the $25 co-pay on lattes every week.
It isn't like they can't afford to see a doctor. It isn't like they don't fucking KNOW any better. They're just lazy about their health.
One of these women gives me a hard time for going to the doctor. I do get annuals - both kinds. This year, last month, my doc didn't like the way something sounded, so she's sending me to see another doc who knows more about that area than she does. Just to be sure something isn't on it's way to being bad wrong. And there is NOTHING wrong with that.
It's better to be safe than...my father-in-law.
So the moral of today's angry tale, kids, is this:
GO TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR AND GET AN ANNUAL PHYSICAL.
If you don't have a doctor, open the fucking phone book and find one, pick up the phone, and make a goddamn appointment. Go. Now. DO IT.
People love you. If you're going to die on them, go out in a blaze of glory - don't leave them because you were apathetic or stubborn.
Actually, that isn't true. He didn't have a doctor, because he doesn't get annual physicals, so he went to his sister's doctor.
Doctor suspected congestive heart failure and admitted him to the hospital. Ran heart tests - they all came back negative. Took a chest x-ray...found a spot.
The spot on his lung, they said, was less than an inch long - very small and almost nothing to worry about even if it turns out to be cancer.
Did a biopsy...found it was, indeed, cancer.
No problem, they said - at that point several more doctors got involved. It's so small, it's only Stage One - early stage one, most likely.
They sent him home, told him to come back in a week to have the spot and a hunk of lung removed.
He went back on Monday. When they opened him up they found the tumor - much larger than one inch - wrapped around his pulmonary artery. And more tumors. Everywhere. His whole right lung is covered in them.
Can somebody explain to me why THAT wouldn't show up on an x-ray. And WTF is is wrong with doctors that they don't put a person through an MRI before cutting on him, so they know what they're in for once they open him up?
Anyway, they left the pulmonary tumor - the really big one - because they were afraid he'd bleed out on the table if they messed with the artery.
So they sewed him up and are sending him home in a couple of days with Stage Three lung cancer, a scrip for chemo and radiation, and their best wishes.
This. Is. Fucked. Up.
He's 66 years old. He doesn't even smoke, although he lives with a smoker...who lost half of one of her lungs 5 years ago and kept right on smoking, BTW.
But, cancer runs in the family and he isn't the first of his momma's children to get the lung variety.
So let's review: Cancer runs in your family, your sibs have died from it, and you live with a smoker, but you don't get a chest x-ray - or even a basic fucking physical - once a year.
We live in a first world country. Hell, we are the poster children for The First Fucking World.
Is our healthcare system unfair? Yes. Do I think we should have universal medicine? Absofuckinglutely. Does this have anything to do with MY family? Hell no. My FIL has had health insurance for the last 20 years and he has Medicare now.
Surely to God this was preventable. Even if it was inevitable that he was going to get cancer, it never should have had a chance to get this bad. It should have - probably could have - been caught ages ago.
But he didn't go to the doctor. Once a year. For an hour.
I know well-educated people my age who don't get physicals...or go to the dentist...and it blows my fucking mind. I know women to don't get PAPS for God's sake. Women who HAVE health insurance and spend twice the $25 co-pay on lattes every week.
It isn't like they can't afford to see a doctor. It isn't like they don't fucking KNOW any better. They're just lazy about their health.
One of these women gives me a hard time for going to the doctor. I do get annuals - both kinds. This year, last month, my doc didn't like the way something sounded, so she's sending me to see another doc who knows more about that area than she does. Just to be sure something isn't on it's way to being bad wrong. And there is NOTHING wrong with that.
It's better to be safe than...my father-in-law.
So the moral of today's angry tale, kids, is this:
GO TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR AND GET AN ANNUAL PHYSICAL.
If you don't have a doctor, open the fucking phone book and find one, pick up the phone, and make a goddamn appointment. Go. Now. DO IT.
People love you. If you're going to die on them, go out in a blaze of glory - don't leave them because you were apathetic or stubborn.
27 September 2010
26 September 2010
This bothers me...
Okay, Learning Channel...I thought I was broad-minded. Apparently, I was wrong.
"Sister Wives?" About polygamists? Wrong. Just wrong. You are not educating me, you are lending credence to something that is against the law. For a reason.
And as has been pointed out...if God mandated MEN with many WIVES, then somewhere he mandated WOMEN with many HUSBANDS. Which makes a lot more sense. I mean...be real.
One woman...three husbands. He only has to come home twice a week. The rest of the time he can watch SportsCenter. He only has to contribute 1/3 of his income...the other two guys are pitching in. This as opposed to one husband/three wives where they're on welfare because the women are always pregnant.
Three husbands? Oh, my. The competition would be lovely. The faucet leaks? My drill's bigger than your's. Need a tree cut down? Wanna see MY chainsaw?
The kids? Claim 'em when they excel. Blame someone else when they get busted.
The thing I read said Joseph Smith got caught fooling around. So he went into the woods and God told him he needed more than one wife.
Well. Hell.
I'm gonna make a list.
Where's the bug spray?
"Sister Wives?" About polygamists? Wrong. Just wrong. You are not educating me, you are lending credence to something that is against the law. For a reason.
And as has been pointed out...if God mandated MEN with many WIVES, then somewhere he mandated WOMEN with many HUSBANDS. Which makes a lot more sense. I mean...be real.
One woman...three husbands. He only has to come home twice a week. The rest of the time he can watch SportsCenter. He only has to contribute 1/3 of his income...the other two guys are pitching in. This as opposed to one husband/three wives where they're on welfare because the women are always pregnant.
Three husbands? Oh, my. The competition would be lovely. The faucet leaks? My drill's bigger than your's. Need a tree cut down? Wanna see MY chainsaw?
The kids? Claim 'em when they excel. Blame someone else when they get busted.
The thing I read said Joseph Smith got caught fooling around. So he went into the woods and God told him he needed more than one wife.
Well. Hell.
I'm gonna make a list.
Where's the bug spray?
24 September 2010
23 September 2010
It's not really funny....
...but.
CG and I have multiple posts in the "Edit" section of Blogger. I work on mine in the car while I wait. She probably makes international business calls with one hand and writes with the other. And cooks with the other ;)
Which brings us to...My first boyfriend's mother didn't like me when we started dating, but four years later when we broke up she decided he could do worse. She SURE as hell decided he HAD done worse when he married a charwoman.
Okay, there aren't charwomen in the United States. That's okay...this worked out GREAT.
So over the last 40 years (yes, I was 14 when we started "going steady) I've come to appreciate her outspokenness and bluntness. It helps that I'm not the target anymore ;) And then, sometime last year, she walked into early service at church and didn't know where she was. Which was the impetus she needed to go into assisted living.
So when this came today? Dedicated to "the old, the getting-old, and the will-be-old?" I cracked UP...truth is stranger than internet jokes!!!
"WHERE is my SUNDAY paper?!"
The irate customer calling the newspaper office, loudly demanded to know where her Sunday edition was.
"Madam", said the newspaper employee, "today is Saturday. The Sunday paper is not delivered until tomorrow, on SUNDAY".
There was quiet and a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a ray of recognition as she was heard to mutter,
"Well, shit, that explains why no one was at church today."
CG and I have multiple posts in the "Edit" section of Blogger. I work on mine in the car while I wait. She probably makes international business calls with one hand and writes with the other. And cooks with the other ;)
Which brings us to...My first boyfriend's mother didn't like me when we started dating, but four years later when we broke up she decided he could do worse. She SURE as hell decided he HAD done worse when he married a charwoman.
Okay, there aren't charwomen in the United States. That's okay...this worked out GREAT.
So over the last 40 years (yes, I was 14 when we started "going steady) I've come to appreciate her outspokenness and bluntness. It helps that I'm not the target anymore ;) And then, sometime last year, she walked into early service at church and didn't know where she was. Which was the impetus she needed to go into assisted living.
So when this came today? Dedicated to "the old, the getting-old, and the will-be-old?" I cracked UP...truth is stranger than internet jokes!!!
"WHERE is my SUNDAY paper?!"
The irate customer calling the newspaper office, loudly demanded to know where her Sunday edition was.
"Madam", said the newspaper employee, "today is Saturday. The Sunday paper is not delivered until tomorrow, on SUNDAY".
There was quiet and a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a ray of recognition as she was heard to mutter,
"Well, shit, that explains why no one was at church today."
22 September 2010
Your Life: The Horror Movie
I have a suggestion for Daniel Myrick and M. Night Shamalamadingdong, and all the other writers, directors and producers in Hollywood wracking their brains to come up with the next great horror movie.
If you want to make a TRULY terrifying movie, base it on womens' real lives.
Viewed in a neutral venue, men won't recognize the horror, drama and suspense playing out on the screen as real-life instances taken from the lives of their mothers, wives and daughters.
Women will pay to see it just to feel better about their own lives. It'll make hundreds of millions of dollars, I tell ya.
The Week From Hell: You Can't Unlive It
More Gruesome than The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
My husband shot a boar this weekend - he put the filthy carcass in my new brand-new freezer.
More Terrifying than Blair Witch Project
My mother-in-law had surgery, so she's going to stay with us... for a month.
More Suspenseful than Silence of the Lambs
Pleaseohpleaseohplease let me get my period today.
More Redneck Fucked Up than I Spit on Your Grave
My daughter is sleeping with my old boyfriend...who is also her real father, but doesn't know it.
Your Life. Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.
17 September 2010
Friday Funny - Too True!!
*Addendum*
In case you aren't old enough to remember the "original" Peg Bundy, circa 1987:
16 September 2010
You Want an EKG with that Burger?
Do you know what's really frightening?Like, more frightening than Mickey Rourke's immovable Botox'd forehead?
More frightening than getting stuck in an elevator with Sarah Palin?
Aging body parts.
Not the bits of your body you have control over, like your weight or crinkling skin around your eyes or those lovely blotchy freckles on your hands.
No, I mean the internal bits. The stuff that's wearing out that we can't see.
Basically, the pieces-parts that keep us running.
I'm here to tell you that the most utterly frightening thing about wearing out is not that we are actually slowly wearing out.
No, the super-scary thing is arriving at the the point where you find yourself talking to your doctor about the wearing out bits like you're discussing the weather.
"Think it'll ever rain?"
"Dunno. My colon hurts."
"Yeah? I can order a colonoscopy."
"Okay. I hear we might get hail tomorrow."
I imagine all the moms out there reach this point of being completely blasé about bodily functions the day they give birth.
After you've had a virtual stranger stick his arm up your hoo-ha, and then examine the afterbirth (THAT came out of a human body?!) it must be really hard to work up a good embarrassment over a dysfunctional bladder.
But for people who have never pushed a whole person out through their "in" door, it is mighty easy to get embarrassed about bodily functions.
Until one day.
One day, you realize something isn't working properly and you sit yourself down across from the doctor and spit it all out as methodically as a stock ticker.
Afterward, you sit there and think, "Oh, shit. I'm turning into my mother."
Your mother who, forty years ago, had a stranger's arm in her hoo-ha, yanking out your sorry ass.
And then you get over it...or you blog about it. One or the other.
15 September 2010
It didn't start well...
...when no one woke up on time. I don't usually NEED an alarm...mistake number one. The Nice Kid set her's by the bed, turned it off and didn't move again. The Not Nice Kid gets up when everyone else does and...no one got up. The Big Boy was working from home for the day, and had another 30 minutes.
No biggie...there is a routine. Grabbed lunches, jerked on clothes, screamed about hair and teeth, found everything that was lost. Fought the morning traffic we don't NORMALLY fight because...OH YEAH...we leave early. TNK was late, but that's not my problem so I put her out and headed for the next school. TNNK was on time, if barely. I started out the back way home, waiting on my blood pressure to drop and thinking about how to build this stone retaining wall I have in my mind.
Phone rings. It's TNK, crying uncontrollably. "Come get me," she sobs. I panicked...we've been dealing with ovarian cysts in a child too young to have to worry about such.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," she says. "I'm in the office. My dress is too short."
Well, hell. Turns out, she wants me to come get her and take her home. Since we live 30 minutes away, there's a good chance I won't make her go back. She's no dummy.
We argue it out for a minute, and finally I tell her: I'll be there in a minute. Going to WalMart to find you something to wear. FIFTY-FIVE minutes later, I am standing there in a panic. I have shirts. I have a camisole (dress code says no collarbones.) There is not a SKIRT in that store, and this child can't wear normal jeans...she and her dad have narrow hips and strong thighs. Jeans are a nightmare. Finally, I find a pair of men's lounging pants. Slinky cotton. I figure, with one of the over-the-hip shirts, we have an elegant ensemble.
Pull up to the school and call the office to send her out. I have on a ratty old zip-up hoodie, a pair of cotton gym shorts and flip-flops. Walking in to rescue my child who is OUT OF DRESS CODE didn't look like a good idea. She comes out, I show her what I've bought and her face crumples. "I can't WEAR these," she sobs over the lounging pants. "They're considered PAJAMAS."
Okay, I can handle this. There's another store up the road, I'll run in THERE and buy a skirt and be right back. She shows me the test she's just gotten back...an 88 in Latin. Good job...the day's not a total loss. Skirt...I just need a skirt. Let's find a skirt.
Zip into Martin's parking lot and no, they don't open until ten o'clock. We already know WalMart doesn't have a skirt so...KMart it is. Please.
On a sale rack. $3.99. Cute swirly skirt she can wear to church. Fly back to the school. Bite the bullet and slip in the side door to the Attendance Office. Hand off the package. Slip back out and exit that parking lot for the THIRD time. (Here, I actually fished around under the seats for just ONE hot beer but...no such luck. Probably a good thing because just then....)
The phone rings.
"You have my Latin test," hysterically. "I HAVE TO HAVE MY LATIN TEST."
I turned around and went back. Stood at the door and waited. Here she finally comes wearing...the original dress she wore to school. "The skirt is too tight, so I put the shirt on over it and they wouldn't let me wear it unless I tucked in the shirt and the skirt is too tight," she explains. "Never mind, I'll just hug the walls all day."
And she did.
(Okay. Here, we have two endings. You get to figure out which one really happened and if you are easily offended? Go away. I am NOT in the mood.)
#1...FINALLY, I start out of town. Phone rings but, it's The Big Boy. "You okay?" he asks. I explain the situation. I'm on my way home. I'll bring a biscuit. Everything will be okay. I sigh. He is commiserative.
When I walked in, he had the den picked up and the only bottle of champagne in the house open with a flute beside it. Filled the glass, shut the door and left me to drink my cares away while watching bad SciFi movies. I fell asleep about 11:30, no one else called and the house didn't burn down. Sometimes, things take care of themselves ;)
#2...Some dumbass woman on a cell phone got in the left lane in one corner of our state, and did 50 miles an hour all the way across this county. The truck driver in the herd didn't kill her, but he tried. She, however, remained oblivious.
I FINALLY pulled into my driveway just as I realized, THERE'S NO MILK. I can't eat without milk. But decided I didn't want it bad enough to go back out so I came on in and there...stood TBB. Waggling that thing at me and announcing, "Boy, do I have a treat for you!"
Services Friday.
No biggie...there is a routine. Grabbed lunches, jerked on clothes, screamed about hair and teeth, found everything that was lost. Fought the morning traffic we don't NORMALLY fight because...OH YEAH...we leave early. TNK was late, but that's not my problem so I put her out and headed for the next school. TNNK was on time, if barely. I started out the back way home, waiting on my blood pressure to drop and thinking about how to build this stone retaining wall I have in my mind.
Phone rings. It's TNK, crying uncontrollably. "Come get me," she sobs. I panicked...we've been dealing with ovarian cysts in a child too young to have to worry about such.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," she says. "I'm in the office. My dress is too short."
Well, hell. Turns out, she wants me to come get her and take her home. Since we live 30 minutes away, there's a good chance I won't make her go back. She's no dummy.
We argue it out for a minute, and finally I tell her: I'll be there in a minute. Going to WalMart to find you something to wear. FIFTY-FIVE minutes later, I am standing there in a panic. I have shirts. I have a camisole (dress code says no collarbones.) There is not a SKIRT in that store, and this child can't wear normal jeans...she and her dad have narrow hips and strong thighs. Jeans are a nightmare. Finally, I find a pair of men's lounging pants. Slinky cotton. I figure, with one of the over-the-hip shirts, we have an elegant ensemble.
Pull up to the school and call the office to send her out. I have on a ratty old zip-up hoodie, a pair of cotton gym shorts and flip-flops. Walking in to rescue my child who is OUT OF DRESS CODE didn't look like a good idea. She comes out, I show her what I've bought and her face crumples. "I can't WEAR these," she sobs over the lounging pants. "They're considered PAJAMAS."
Okay, I can handle this. There's another store up the road, I'll run in THERE and buy a skirt and be right back. She shows me the test she's just gotten back...an 88 in Latin. Good job...the day's not a total loss. Skirt...I just need a skirt. Let's find a skirt.
Zip into Martin's parking lot and no, they don't open until ten o'clock. We already know WalMart doesn't have a skirt so...KMart it is. Please.
On a sale rack. $3.99. Cute swirly skirt she can wear to church. Fly back to the school. Bite the bullet and slip in the side door to the Attendance Office. Hand off the package. Slip back out and exit that parking lot for the THIRD time. (Here, I actually fished around under the seats for just ONE hot beer but...no such luck. Probably a good thing because just then....)
The phone rings.
"You have my Latin test," hysterically. "I HAVE TO HAVE MY LATIN TEST."
I turned around and went back. Stood at the door and waited. Here she finally comes wearing...the original dress she wore to school. "The skirt is too tight, so I put the shirt on over it and they wouldn't let me wear it unless I tucked in the shirt and the skirt is too tight," she explains. "Never mind, I'll just hug the walls all day."
And she did.
(Okay. Here, we have two endings. You get to figure out which one really happened and if you are easily offended? Go away. I am NOT in the mood.)
#1...FINALLY, I start out of town. Phone rings but, it's The Big Boy. "You okay?" he asks. I explain the situation. I'm on my way home. I'll bring a biscuit. Everything will be okay. I sigh. He is commiserative.
When I walked in, he had the den picked up and the only bottle of champagne in the house open with a flute beside it. Filled the glass, shut the door and left me to drink my cares away while watching bad SciFi movies. I fell asleep about 11:30, no one else called and the house didn't burn down. Sometimes, things take care of themselves ;)
#2...Some dumbass woman on a cell phone got in the left lane in one corner of our state, and did 50 miles an hour all the way across this county. The truck driver in the herd didn't kill her, but he tried. She, however, remained oblivious.
I FINALLY pulled into my driveway just as I realized, THERE'S NO MILK. I can't eat without milk. But decided I didn't want it bad enough to go back out so I came on in and there...stood TBB. Waggling that thing at me and announcing, "Boy, do I have a treat for you!"
Services Friday.
13 September 2010
Meow
We established a few months ago that I love the Tumblr.We've also established that I'm a horny old Cougar, the relevance of which will be revealed momentarily.
So, Tumblr: Tumbling is more detailed and less...self-absorbed?... than Tweeting, but faster and much more concise than blogging.
I follow dozens and dozens of Tumblers (I don't even know if these Tumblr-related parts of speech are real...I'm making them up as I go along).
My current favorite is:
Tap That Guy.
Covertly snapped pics of uber-hot guys (pardon the MIA umlaut). What's not to love? No captions. Nothing clever. Just pretty, pretty images. :: le sigh ::
Clearly, this is a site for gay men, by gay men - just look at the advertising. There is nothing even remotely hetero about an online dating service called Manhunt. Women could never get away with that - much as we wish we could.
Can you imagine? If I started an online dating service for women - of all ages - looking for hot, young guys? My ass would be dragged onto The Today Show faster than you can say, "Reverse Sexism."
But back to the site.
So even though we know this is a site for guys, women should be enjoying it as well!
It is a drug and calorie-free way of brightening your day.
It's friggin' brilliant is what it really is.
Scenario 1:
You broke a heel and missed your train. "Where's my fucking Zoloft?!?"
Wait. It's time to check in with Tap That Guy your iPhone. Ah. That's better.
Scenario 2:
You're stuck in morning traffic, you have cramps and the cat threw up on your great-grandmother's quilt. You start to reach for the emergency bag of M&Ms but pause, "Hmm. I wonder what was posted overnight to Tap That Guy."
You check your BlackBerry while up ahead a concrete truck attempts a three-point turn across four lanes of rush hour traffic.
Half-naked boys in Rome? Check.
Construction workers in Copenhagen? Check.
Hot guy on a train in Paris? Check.
:: blink, blink ::
Why are you sitting in traffic again?
I am Cougar! Hear me roar!
10 September 2010
09 September 2010
There's $$ in this somewhere...
All good intentions aside, of which I have none, I spent the morning on the phone with my college roommate. And all we decided is that after 50+ years of life experience...we don't know shit. For real.
In nine months The Nice Kid will be able to drive. This means...let me repeat myself...that for the first time in nearly 30 years, I will not be driving a child to an institution of learning. Hot damn. I can get a job. Or go to clown school. Or build rock walls.
Except I am clueless. Clueless, intimidated, lazy, unmotivated and mired. Sitting here, sipping bourbon and growing gardenias and ferrying children and...stagnant. There's mold on the bread in the kitchen moving faster than I am...more purposefully, too.
And it turns out? It's not just me. Everywhere around me are middle-aged women, looking around, asking WTF? and wondering just...what do they want to be when they grow up? If you ask? Nine out of ten often aren't doing what they want to do...but they don't know what that is.
The problem is...we don't know where to look. To find out what we want to do. No one ever asked us before, and we never really stopped to think about it and then there were these KIDS and a mortgage and then there's a yard and the mess in the house and...oops. Even those with jobs....College Roommate has two engineering degrees and worked in her field for a while...aren't doing what they want to do.
So you just watch. Sometime within the next six months, in between "Walk Off Ten Pounds Before Lunch," and "Declutter Your House For Less Than Fifty Cents," Woman's Day or Family Circle magazine will have an article on some enterprising soul who came up with this idea to help talented, skilled, lost middle-aged women find their paths. And said talented soul will be booking it to the bank to deposit the proceeds from this great idea.
While I'm still sitting here, rooting gardenias and not running 10K's with my kids.
I grew some miniature gourds. Reckon that counts?
In nine months The Nice Kid will be able to drive. This means...let me repeat myself...that for the first time in nearly 30 years, I will not be driving a child to an institution of learning. Hot damn. I can get a job. Or go to clown school. Or build rock walls.
Except I am clueless. Clueless, intimidated, lazy, unmotivated and mired. Sitting here, sipping bourbon and growing gardenias and ferrying children and...stagnant. There's mold on the bread in the kitchen moving faster than I am...more purposefully, too.
And it turns out? It's not just me. Everywhere around me are middle-aged women, looking around, asking WTF? and wondering just...what do they want to be when they grow up? If you ask? Nine out of ten often aren't doing what they want to do...but they don't know what that is.
The problem is...we don't know where to look. To find out what we want to do. No one ever asked us before, and we never really stopped to think about it and then there were these KIDS and a mortgage and then there's a yard and the mess in the house and...oops. Even those with jobs....College Roommate has two engineering degrees and worked in her field for a while...aren't doing what they want to do.
So you just watch. Sometime within the next six months, in between "Walk Off Ten Pounds Before Lunch," and "Declutter Your House For Less Than Fifty Cents," Woman's Day or Family Circle magazine will have an article on some enterprising soul who came up with this idea to help talented, skilled, lost middle-aged women find their paths. And said talented soul will be booking it to the bank to deposit the proceeds from this great idea.
While I'm still sitting here, rooting gardenias and not running 10K's with my kids.
I grew some miniature gourds. Reckon that counts?
08 September 2010
The Grammar Police Take a Time Out
I'm not going tell him he misspelled you're.
Are YOU going to tell him?
Are YOU going to tell him?
03 September 2010
Reiterating...
I love this woman...in my next life, I'm going to be me with foresight and write like she does ;) http://mocklog.typepad.com/queen_mediocretia/
02 September 2010
Yes, YOU!
This is not politically incorrect, sexist or mean. It's just the way it is.
There are some stupid-ass women with cellphones, driving around amongst us.
My children, who are FEMALE by the way and have never lived without Title IX or voting rights, have a new mantra..."Wo-man on a cellphone, wom-an on a cellphone." This usually comes up when there's some SUV in the left lane doing alternatively 40 and 70 mph. And 90% of the time? They're right.
Pulling out of a parking lot yesterday. Major thoroughfare in our fair city...traffic light. Four ways to go...four ways to stop. Leaving the parking lot is a truck, in the left hand turn-lane, waiting to turn left. I pulled in behind him. Across from us are two cars, waiting to pull out from a residential street. We're all happily sitting at our red lights, watching the traffic on the right of way zip up and down, through the green light. And then, to my left...GOING OUT THE ENTRANCE FOR INCOMING TRAFFIC...pulls this goofy female. Talking on her cellphone. Pulls up, chatting away, waiting on the red light to change. In the wrong lane. With a CONCRETE ISLAND between her (in the wrong lane) and us (in the right lane.)
The guy in the truck looks over. Looks again. Glances in his rearview mirror at me, then back at Chatty Cathy. I realize...he's not letting her out. I edge up...let's get that bitch.
She was oblivious.
The light changes and...zip. Out pulls the truck. She is still chatting away, pulls into the intersection and...IT'S MY TURN!! I'm tailing the truck...hell NO I will not stop in the middle of a four-way intersection to let you figure out where the hell you're going. Anyone gets hit? It will be YOU, Cell Phone Diva.
The oncoming cars? No slack there, either. We're all obeying our signs and our lanes and our manners and...she never put down the phone. Never even hesitated. Truck Guy and I made our left turns and the next light caught us. He and I are in the left lane. Stopped. I look up and here comes CPD, still talking.
Puh-leeze. You nearly got your dumb ass KILLED...pay attention!! She slowed down, so as not to get too close to me and that...did it. I am the child of school teachers and I have the tone and gestures down. Put my car in park, opened the door and walked to my back bumper. (For longtime followers? I'm trying to overcome the jerk-him-out-of-the-car thing. Potentially dangerous.)
Snapped my fingers, pointed straight down and bellowed, "Hang it UP! Hang it up right NOW. Hang that damn thing UP and pay ATTENTION!"
She never moved. The phone was stuck to her ear, her eyes were glued on my parboiled face, her hand was on the steering wheel and...she never blinked or took a breath. I got back in my car and...Truck Guy started blowing his horn and high fiving me. The two cars in the other lane were thumbs-upping.
She never moved that phone.
When she passed me, I held up my credit card holder like a camera (my phone was in my camera bag) and acted like I was photographing her license plate.
She turned left. We went straight.
Although my reaction was a little unusual for a Wednesday, that bizarre cellphone/oblivious woman thing isn't. And yes, men do it but they don't do it as often as women.
IMHO.
Which is, after all, all that really matters in The Institution ;)
There are some stupid-ass women with cellphones, driving around amongst us.
My children, who are FEMALE by the way and have never lived without Title IX or voting rights, have a new mantra..."Wo-man on a cellphone, wom-an on a cellphone." This usually comes up when there's some SUV in the left lane doing alternatively 40 and 70 mph. And 90% of the time? They're right.
Pulling out of a parking lot yesterday. Major thoroughfare in our fair city...traffic light. Four ways to go...four ways to stop. Leaving the parking lot is a truck, in the left hand turn-lane, waiting to turn left. I pulled in behind him. Across from us are two cars, waiting to pull out from a residential street. We're all happily sitting at our red lights, watching the traffic on the right of way zip up and down, through the green light. And then, to my left...GOING OUT THE ENTRANCE FOR INCOMING TRAFFIC...pulls this goofy female. Talking on her cellphone. Pulls up, chatting away, waiting on the red light to change. In the wrong lane. With a CONCRETE ISLAND between her (in the wrong lane) and us (in the right lane.)
The guy in the truck looks over. Looks again. Glances in his rearview mirror at me, then back at Chatty Cathy. I realize...he's not letting her out. I edge up...let's get that bitch.
She was oblivious.
The light changes and...zip. Out pulls the truck. She is still chatting away, pulls into the intersection and...IT'S MY TURN!! I'm tailing the truck...hell NO I will not stop in the middle of a four-way intersection to let you figure out where the hell you're going. Anyone gets hit? It will be YOU, Cell Phone Diva.
The oncoming cars? No slack there, either. We're all obeying our signs and our lanes and our manners and...she never put down the phone. Never even hesitated. Truck Guy and I made our left turns and the next light caught us. He and I are in the left lane. Stopped. I look up and here comes CPD, still talking.
Puh-leeze. You nearly got your dumb ass KILLED...pay attention!! She slowed down, so as not to get too close to me and that...did it. I am the child of school teachers and I have the tone and gestures down. Put my car in park, opened the door and walked to my back bumper. (For longtime followers? I'm trying to overcome the jerk-him-out-of-the-car thing. Potentially dangerous.)
Snapped my fingers, pointed straight down and bellowed, "Hang it UP! Hang it up right NOW. Hang that damn thing UP and pay ATTENTION!"
She never moved. The phone was stuck to her ear, her eyes were glued on my parboiled face, her hand was on the steering wheel and...she never blinked or took a breath. I got back in my car and...Truck Guy started blowing his horn and high fiving me. The two cars in the other lane were thumbs-upping.
She never moved that phone.
When she passed me, I held up my credit card holder like a camera (my phone was in my camera bag) and acted like I was photographing her license plate.
She turned left. We went straight.
Although my reaction was a little unusual for a Wednesday, that bizarre cellphone/oblivious woman thing isn't. And yes, men do it but they don't do it as often as women.
IMHO.
Which is, after all, all that really matters in The Institution ;)
01 September 2010
The best of these I've ever seen...
...from my Mom:
Life's Truths
1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history when you die. This is so funny because all MY friends? "GET THIS PORN OUT OF HERE!"
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. This has never happened to me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it ;)
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. One of the benefits of being me? I nap every day.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. Maybe Comic Sans?
5. Really, how ARE you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? Give her credit...Martha showed us all and it works.
6. Was learning cursive really necessary? VERY good point, except in the South where thank-you notes go out the day OF the party.
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. Especially since from there? They ain't got a clue ;)
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. YES!!!!!
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. Luckily, you can blame it on either your kids or your parents. Situational.
10. Bad decisions make good stories. Well, duh.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. I start out 90% of my days like this. Just give up ahead of time and you haven't failed.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. I actually would be happy if we had given up after VHS. What the HELL am I supposed to do with all this Disney stuff?
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to. Thank you.
14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -ever. I would NEVER buy anything with a label like that! Every garment I own is the color of wine or cheese dip ;)
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? >Crud!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away? No, they're sitting there all pissy because you didn't cancel all your life issues to talk to them. About THEIR life issues ;(
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste. I stopped wearing makeup about two years over this. WTH? If I DO run into you? Let's have a drink and I'll improve.
17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. Let's not go here. This usually involves relatives.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well. Wrong. Mine has one.
19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers . I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay. Only in this house. I'm guessing the majority of the planet gets going with HERSHEY kisses. Chocolate rules.
20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option. Around here, we need a "no booze zone." There really ARE places here that don't sell alchohol.
21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it. OMG!!! In New Orleans? The gay bars show the original Batman series. Every other comment? Oh, yeah.
22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in. This is why you have kids.
23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text. Or mascara.
24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. Boredom is when there's no one to have margaritas at lunch with you.
25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said? Depends on the age of the person you're talking to. My dad? Just smile the entire time.
26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters! Oh YES. I can identify specific drivers by exactly which lane they're in at 7:10 in the mornings.
27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever. Thank you, Levi Strauss.
28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year? Not only do they get dumber...they get YOUNGER. Have you SEEN the kids in high school these days? What happened to the muscular jocks from my day? ;)
29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far. This is a guy thing.
30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists. Yes. And then YES again.
31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. I've looked up the date twice this morning and I still don't know when the month ends.
32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'll bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time! This is the only dud on this list...I don't have an alarm clock. I KNOW I have to be up...perpetually ;)
Life's Truths
1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history when you die. This is so funny because all MY friends? "GET THIS PORN OUT OF HERE!"
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong. This has never happened to me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it ;)
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger. One of the benefits of being me? I nap every day.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. Maybe Comic Sans?
5. Really, how ARE you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? Give her credit...Martha showed us all and it works.
6. Was learning cursive really necessary? VERY good point, except in the South where thank-you notes go out the day OF the party.
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. Especially since from there? They ain't got a clue ;)
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. YES!!!!!
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. Luckily, you can blame it on either your kids or your parents. Situational.
10. Bad decisions make good stories. Well, duh.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. I start out 90% of my days like this. Just give up ahead of time and you haven't failed.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. I actually would be happy if we had given up after VHS. What the HELL am I supposed to do with all this Disney stuff?
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to. Thank you.
14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -ever. I would NEVER buy anything with a label like that! Every garment I own is the color of wine or cheese dip ;)
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? >Crud!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away? No, they're sitting there all pissy because you didn't cancel all your life issues to talk to them. About THEIR life issues ;(
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste. I stopped wearing makeup about two years over this. WTH? If I DO run into you? Let's have a drink and I'll improve.
17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. Let's not go here. This usually involves relatives.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well. Wrong. Mine has one.
19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers . I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay. Only in this house. I'm guessing the majority of the planet gets going with HERSHEY kisses. Chocolate rules.
20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option. Around here, we need a "no booze zone." There really ARE places here that don't sell alchohol.
21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it. OMG!!! In New Orleans? The gay bars show the original Batman series. Every other comment? Oh, yeah.
22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in. This is why you have kids.
23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text. Or mascara.
24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger. Boredom is when there's no one to have margaritas at lunch with you.
25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said? Depends on the age of the person you're talking to. My dad? Just smile the entire time.
26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters! Oh YES. I can identify specific drivers by exactly which lane they're in at 7:10 in the mornings.
27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever. Thank you, Levi Strauss.
28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year? Not only do they get dumber...they get YOUNGER. Have you SEEN the kids in high school these days? What happened to the muscular jocks from my day? ;)
29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far. This is a guy thing.
30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists. Yes. And then YES again.
31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. I've looked up the date twice this morning and I still don't know when the month ends.
32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'll bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time! This is the only dud on this list...I don't have an alarm clock. I KNOW I have to be up...perpetually ;)
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