Hours of entertainment at the expense of others. My favorite!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Just when I think that government offices are devoid of all technology (have you ever seen the inside of city hall? It’s like stepping into the 70’s…) I uncover something like this. http://www.readynotifypa.org/ Basically you build a profile of where you live and work (or whatever) and then indicate what you want to receive notices about (road closings, amber alerts, severe weather, SWINE FLU (hello!)) and they either text you or email you. Simple. Useful. How elegant!
People, this is further evidence that
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
- Do you wear it or put it on your wall?
- Does that text wrap all the way around to your ass crack or is that a quote on the packaging?
- Is Quaker guy, John Greenleaf Whittier, rolling over in his grave?
- Do you think he knew back in the 1890's that his poetry would some day be featured on someone's hoo ha?
- Who pays $13 for a white cotton thong?
- Why does it only come in size 0-4? Are larger women not allowed to wear Quaker poet butt floss?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Standing next to Fred while the lunch lady was ringing up his purchases…
Her: You looked up my husband on the internet?
Her: You didn’t tell me that. You were looking at his mug shot.
Her (to me): He looked my husband up on the Internet.
Me: Well, I guess as long as it wasn’t the sex offender website then it’s ok…
Some days I wonder about these people ….
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Well, it’s official. I am no longer pregnant. Yes, I realize that on January 8th when a child came out of me I was technically “no longer pregnant", but in the weeks following the actual birth it seemed all the good pregnancy joo joo was still lingering. I know I bitched and moaned about being pregnant but the fact is there were some pleasant side effects. The whole hair thing was at the top of the list (maybe that was even the entire list…I can’t be sure because the pregnancy brain is still lingering which means I can’t think properly).
Anyway the point is, my hair was the thickest its been since I was 10 years old. See before I got pregnant, me and the maintenance guy Mike were on a first name basis. He or one of his guys would come on over to our apartment on a monthly basis to pull the giant wookie out of the drain. My husband repeatedly apologized for this and even offered to do it for him. Mike’s guy Tom says the wookie keeps him employed, so from that point forward we would dutifully call him without apology. Then one day I found myself in the family way and miraculously the wookie decided to stay in my head. So for the last 12 months we haven’t seen Mike (with the exception of the washer/dryer incident which isn’t worth talking about).
The wookie was thick and shiny and easy to style. I enjoyed drying my hair. I could even let it air dry and it didn’t look like hell. It was awesome and I hoped against all hope that this was a new and permanent condition. I knew better….but a girl can dream can’t she?
So, two days ago I was in the shower happily washing my hair when I pulled my hands away to find the wookie was back. I was sad as I watched half my hair gracefully swirl down the drain. Au revoir wookie…it’s been a good run. Tell Mike & Tom I said hello….
Friday, April 10, 2009
Here’s the situation. You’re walking down the street and your inner monologue is going in your head.
Hey buddy, 1972 called and they want their facial hair back.
Dear lord, someone needs to go shopping for a new pair of jeans. Didn’t it hurt when you stuffed yourself into those?
Does that person not own a mirror?
Put down the aqua net lady, your hair is scaring me.
Nice skirt, don’t your ass cheeks get cold hanging out like that?
Back away from the spray tan before I start to sing the ompa loompa song....
I can’t stop it. I know that when I see the tragic humanity outside my front door I can’t help but stare…and then smirk or perhaps raise my eye brows. I wear sunglasses a lot for this reason. It’s amazing I don’t get my ass kicked. Anyway, I used to wonder about a certain category of women. You look at them and think – “They could be totally good looking if they just lost a few pounds and cleaned themselves up.” You ‘ve seen them - they wander around in pants that are too small for them, visible panty lines, hair looking like hell…you know who I’m talking about. I would see them and think to myself – why on earth would you set foot out of the house looking like that?
Well people, I now know who those women are. Their pants are too small because they aren’t willing to buy new pants because the old pants will fit eventually. The maternity pants don’t stay up and were pretty frickin ugly to start with. And the underwear..well you wouldn’t see that panty line if the damn pants weren’t so small. The hair – well that’s an unholy mess because they didn't have time to style it, dry it or sometimes to wash it. Yes, those sad looking individuals that are badly dressed and don’t care are the species we all know as working mothers.
So, when you see me roll into the office in pants that are shamefully too small with my hair pulled back you should shut your mouth and turn off your inner monologue.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I would now like to modify that statement. "I would rather buy the milk as long as I don't have to be the cow." Let me explain....
I recently returned to work and I now have a serious love hate relationship with a breast pump. For a total of 40 minutes a day I am exposed and hooked up to what amounts to a fancy vacuum. I have purchased a pumping bra that my husband believes is some sort of S&M paraphernalia. It's a messy business..blockading the office door, pulling the blinds, whipping out the girls, strapping yourself in, WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH. I just know that everyone can hear this wooshing from 6 offices away.
All the while reading articles like this and this. Yet I continue to put my little containers in the office fridge and redress myself twice a day. Here's why, and my work husband can mock all he wants with comments about about organic food and ergo strollers... I can't be sure that this whole breast milk thing isn't important, so I'll do it just in case.
So as I sit there thinking how undignified it is to be hooked up to a Hoover, I read something like this and I think about how bad I would feel if someday my poor kid has nasty dermatitis all over her just because my selfish ass didn't want to be Bessie the Milk Cow.
Well, even Bessie has her limits. There are only so many times a day you can get naked in your office and still reasonably conduct business. That said, our little friend gets one bottle of formula a day. It's one out of roughly 6-7 feedings. So by my calculations I'm only a good mother 83-86% of the time. I think I can live with those numbers.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I know I’ve been MIA lately, but as usual it’s with good reason.
#1 The tiny human living in my house goes to daycare which involves an enormous amount of crap to be pulled together each evening. It also requires that I wash 65,000 bottle and pumping parts as well as wash poop out of tiny little clothing. Curiously the human brain is programmed to entirely forget about your pre-child life so you don’t feel badly about this self inflicted punishment.
#2 I started work again and it’s already busy.
#3 I occasionally like to talk to the person I married. Yesterday we actually turned off the TV, put the kid down for a nap and had a conversation. Interesting concept…talking.
#4 With grandparents 3000 miles away, I have to keep that kid blog chock full of pictures and videos so they don’t feel like I’ve robbed them of their grandchild.
So I’ll stop whining about my life and tell you a funny story about my grandmother.
A few months ago my husband and I spent the evening over night at my parents house. In the middle of the night I heard this really loud pounding I couldn’t place. I woke my husband up and after several confused moments we realized the pounding was not at the front door as we suspected, but rather from my grandmother’s bedroom. She was sitting on the bed knocking on the window like a mad woman yelling “Help!, Help!”.
I went in and she told me that she got lost and thought if she knocked that someone might come and help her. I can’t say that her logic was flawed, I did get out of bed and come find her. The antics continue on and off for the next few months. Sometimes she wanders around the house in the middle of the night yelling at my parents to get up, sometimes she screams from her room. But, she has always stayed in the house….until two nights ago.
So she's staying with my aunt for a few weeks. Keep in mind this is a neighborhood she lived in for the better part of 15 years. In the middle of the night she gets up in her nightgown and bare feet and walks out of the house in 40 degree weather while everyone else was alseep. She proceeds to cross the street and arrives at the neighbor’s house. It’s at this point that she starts pounding on her door and yelling. Understandably the lady who lives there (alone) is freaked out and calls the cops. Four squad cars show up and find a crazy old woman in her nightgown banging on the door. They begin knocking on surrounding doors to figure out where nightgown lady actually lives. They soon locate my aunt and as my grandmother is walking back into the house she turns back and says to the police, “Thanks for helping me out boys!”.
Unbelievable…nightgown, bare feet, totally disoriented and she still manages to flirt with the men.