My Husband the White Dude

My husband came home and introduced me to a new website. A woman at work showed him. (She's black and this becomes relevant in a moment.) It happened something like this.

Her: You should get a pair of New Balance sneakers
Him: Why because I'm a white dude?
Her: Umm, no. Huh?
Him: Oh, it's one of the posts on Stuff White People Like

She finds this amusing and shows him one of her favorite websites. This is where he found this video. Aside from the various insane photos, I am seriously disturbed by this video. Who has time to do this kind of crap and did he make that leotard himself?

Excuses, excuses

I haven't written in a while because I'm busy raising a human.  You know how that is...tedious but apparently very important since they can't do it themselves. On the upside, when the little one is not eating, pooping or screaming, I get to spend hours randomly surfing the Internet.  So here are some things I'm enjoying.  From my twisted post pregnancy brain to you (presumably not post pregnancy).  And don't bother asking how I have random hours to spend on the Internet but no time to write. I'm well aware that makes no sense...it's just how it is.

First off, here are some funny t-shirts.  I am a big fan of the "I'm gonna come at you like a spider monkey" shirt.  Why? I'm not sure.  This is followed closely by the "My butt hurts" shirt. I think I may have found my sister's next gift... Keep in mind that I got her a Bedazzler for her birthday. For those of you who know my sister, you can expect bedazzled gifts for the next few months.  You don't have to thank me, I know you're excited.

Which brings me to my next item.  For those of you out in the Western Suburbs of Philadelphia - be advised (compliments of that very same sister) that there is a class called Bling It". I have visions of her showing up with her Bedazzler in hand to make me key chains and sparkly heart and star jeans. Awesome.  I'll post a picture of her first gift creation.

Speaking of pictures, part of the reason I haven't been writing is because I'm just too busy posting pictures of the cuteness on my new kid blog.  Yes, there is a blog dedicated to the daily happenings of the eat/poop/sleeper that is currently swinging 10 feet from me.  Its sole purpose is for my mother and father-in-law to show their friends.  I have of course removed the site from search engines and such, but my brother-in-law was still mildly disturbed that we put our child out on the public Internet.  Perhaps there's something to this paranoia?  Here is a site entirely dedicated to other people's pictures on FLICKR.  It is also one of my favorite places to go for entertainment. (Thank you to my Denver fashionista for giving me that link so many months ago...)

I believe that site is indicative of a larger issue from which we've only begun to see the fall out.  People are dumb..this we know. Technology has now made it possible for those same dumb people to spread their bad behavior to a wider audience.  Now I need only go to Facebook and I can see all sorts of awful things. If I can see the awful things on the sites of people who should know better, think about the people who don't... Elections are going to be so much fun 15 years from now. 

And yes, I said Facebook. C'mon I have nothing to do but update my FB status with cute quips about poop and drool.  Sad, yes.

But here's something that someone passed along on FB that's pretty funny.

And now, I have a small screaming human to attend to...

The Philadelphia Parking Authority is Ridiculous

Why you ask? Because when I tried to pay my ticket online they wanted to charge me $1.50. Hmmm. Let me think about this... I can slap a 42 cent stamp and mail you a check or I can pay you $1.50. How much you wanna bet that it costs them more than a buck and a half to process a check.

Ridiculous...

And how about this crap with the meters going up to $2 an hour and then $3 an hour this July.

Like I said, ridiculous...

Just Say No

Yesterday I woke up with wicked back pain.  I haven't felt this pain for approximately 40 weeks....this was the one good thing about pregnancy.  Hormones that are like one big muscle relaxer all day and all night.  Well, that and the really thick hair.  Anyway, I limped around like a fool until I realized that I had Percocet.  Nothing like a little narcotic action to make mama feel better.  Percocet was the only thing that got me out of bed after my c section.  I liked it because it didn't make me feel doped up.  So, I figured this would be an excellent solution to my little problem.  

So I popped one in my mouth and waited.  About 30 minutes later I realized I was really dizzy.  Oh dear, I'm stoned.  Hmmmm. Unexpected.  Husband laughed at me.  Exact quote, "I told you that it would mess you up."

This was unplanned and unwelcomed because my whole day was focused on a trip to The Container Store.  Yes, my life is that dull that I planned an entire day around a modular storage store.  Shut it.  The bottom line is I'll be damned if I let a little narcotic episode get in the way of my organizing fun.

So husband drove his stoned wife and his kid to the store in Jersey.  I brought the stroller so I didn't have to lug around a 600 lb car seat.  It's a good thing, because I was all over the place.  I wheeled that kid into quite a few shelves.  $300 later, husband was busy working his magic to get all that crap stuffed in a four door sedan with baby seat.  Poor child had a clothes drying rack jammed on one side of her and a bag of crap on the other.  

We arrived home and I had the excellent foresight to pull two filets out of the freezer along with some cauliflower soup.  So I peppered up those steaks and put the oven on broil.  A quick check of my faculties told me I was still looped.  (Those of you who have ever seen me cook can attest to the fact that I don't drink while I cook because it usually results in disaster.)  After an impossibly long time in the oven I pull out the steaks and stick the meat thermometer in one.  45 degrees....

If I had half a brain I should have realized that after that much time in the oven nothing could still be 45 degrees Fahrenheit.  Of course after repeating this exercise several more times with a similar result, the only thing I could think was, "God, this is taking an awful long time to get to 150 degrees...what gives?".  Of course it didn't sink into my doped up brain that a 45 degree filet would basically be frozen.  Like I said, there's a reason why I don't drink while cooking.  At some point it dawned on me that the damn meat thermometer had somehow switched to Celsius and I was in the process of turning two very nice filets into hockey pucks.

In the infamous words of Whitney Houston...Crack is Whack.  And, narcotics make you do bad things in the kitchen.