So I hang out on this private message board (Shout out to my G.I. Girls!), and there's a really introspective questionnaire going around, and I have been tagged to do it. Thanks Snark!
Here we go:
What I Was Doing:
Ten Years Ago:
My son had just turned 1, and I was living in Paradise Valley - a suburb of Phoenix with his father. We had just gotten married (July 1) and I was settling into that role.
Five Years Ago:
Living with my boyfriend, Chris (now husband). We met in March of 1999, so we were enjoying our time together. Oh - and we were in the midst of building a house.
One Year Ago:
Getting used to living in San Diego. Chris got transferred from Phoenix, and we moved at the end of February. Working at a job I hated - only because my boss was a micro-managing bitch.
Yesterday:
Sitting on the beach in Coronado watching my son boogie-board with two of his friends from Phoenix. My friend Tina and her two kids came out and visited us for the weekend. It was a fantastically relaxing day.
5 Snacks That I Enjoy:
Snyders Butter Flavored Pretzels
Fudge
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Ice Cream
Blueberries
5 Things I Would Do With $100 Million:
Buy a house for us
Send my son to an Ivy League School
Buy my parents and Chris' parents a house
Set up a retirement fund
Donate to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation
5 Locations I Would Like To Run Away To:
St. Thomas, USVI
Antigua
Fiji
Australia
New Zealand
5 Bad Habits I Have:
Smoking
Cursing too much
Biting my nails when I am nervous
Being a little too judgmental at times
Being too upfront at times
5 Things I Like Doing:
Laying on the beach
Scrapping
Cuddling with my son
Shopping!
Talking to my husband - he always makes me laugh
5 Things I Would Never Wear:
One of those backless shirts
Chain Mail Clothing
Blue Eyeshadow (Unless it's Halloween)
Clear plastic shoes
A Size 0 (thanks Snark!)
5 TV Shows I Like:
Big Brother
Survivor
Blow Out
Lost
Without A Trace
5 Biggest Joys of the Moment:
I have a great husband
I have a great son
I have a great job
I like where I live
I have great friends
5 Favorite Toys:
My Senseo One-Cup coffeemaker
My car (yes, my car!)
My DVR - commercial free TV is the way to go!
My handheld Yahtzee game
My computer
Now It's YOUR Turn!
Tina
Roxy
Chelle
tat2scrapper
DastardlyBoo
Monday, July 25, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Bye Bye Baby
We first met at an outlet center, he was there in the Big Dog store, looking forlorn and oh so damn cute. We checked him out, played with him a bit, and then decided to walk away and think about whether or not we wanted him.
We walked about twenty feet before I made up my mind that I had to have him. He was cute, cuddly, and was calling my name. I could hear it.
We brought him home and named him Sebastian. He was a 6 week old Chow/Golden Retriever mix. We took him to the PetSmart and spent the rent money on getting him the "essentials". We bought him a dog dish, some toys, a leash and collar, a brush, some more toys, some treats, some shampoo, some more toys, puppy pee-wee pads, and this wonderful stuff you put on your carpet after they boo-boo, so they don't boo-boo there again. Oh - and some toys.
At first, he was not having anything to do with going up and down the stairs of our apartment, so we had to carry him. After a little while, and a lot of dog bones dipped in peanut butter, he was getting a bit large to carry up and down the stairs, so we made him climb them. He got over it and was soon a champ.
We moved into our house shortly thereafter and bought Sebastian a doggy-door. It took us two days to train him to use it, but he got the idea. We also trained him to sit, lay down, stay, and give a high-five. Yes, my dog would jump up and paw your hand in a high five gesture. He rocked.
When Chris got transferred to San Diego, Sebastian rode in the back of the car, loving life and the fact that we were finally taking him with us on a "vacation". He acclimated to San Diego quickly, loving the milder temps and the doggie beaches. He really LOVED the doggie beach.
About three weeks ago, Sebastian stopped eating his food. We figured he was just tired of his food, because he is a little Jewish man with fur, and stubborn and spoiled as hell. So we changed his food. He didn't like that either. So we boiled chicken and cut it up, and hand fed it to him and he ate that. And he would eat his T-Bonz. Problem is, we fed him a T-Bonz on Sunday night, and on Monday morning, he puked it up. Whole.
Chris took him to the doctor. Tuesday the doc called and said that Sebastian was in severe kidney failure. There was treatment, but he was pretty bad, so it wasn't guaranteed. We made the heart-breaking and immensely difficult decision to put him down. Chris and I took him in on Wednesday, said our goodbyes, and let the staff take him away. Afterwards, they set him up in a room, and we went in and said goodbye again.
This was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. Chris agrees. We miss him, and strangely enough, we both sometimes still hear the click-click of his nails on the sidewalk, or his whining at the door. Give 'em hell up there baby! Give 'em hell.
We walked about twenty feet before I made up my mind that I had to have him. He was cute, cuddly, and was calling my name. I could hear it.
We brought him home and named him Sebastian. He was a 6 week old Chow/Golden Retriever mix. We took him to the PetSmart and spent the rent money on getting him the "essentials". We bought him a dog dish, some toys, a leash and collar, a brush, some more toys, some treats, some shampoo, some more toys, puppy pee-wee pads, and this wonderful stuff you put on your carpet after they boo-boo, so they don't boo-boo there again. Oh - and some toys.
At first, he was not having anything to do with going up and down the stairs of our apartment, so we had to carry him. After a little while, and a lot of dog bones dipped in peanut butter, he was getting a bit large to carry up and down the stairs, so we made him climb them. He got over it and was soon a champ.
We moved into our house shortly thereafter and bought Sebastian a doggy-door. It took us two days to train him to use it, but he got the idea. We also trained him to sit, lay down, stay, and give a high-five. Yes, my dog would jump up and paw your hand in a high five gesture. He rocked.
When Chris got transferred to San Diego, Sebastian rode in the back of the car, loving life and the fact that we were finally taking him with us on a "vacation". He acclimated to San Diego quickly, loving the milder temps and the doggie beaches. He really LOVED the doggie beach.
About three weeks ago, Sebastian stopped eating his food. We figured he was just tired of his food, because he is a little Jewish man with fur, and stubborn and spoiled as hell. So we changed his food. He didn't like that either. So we boiled chicken and cut it up, and hand fed it to him and he ate that. And he would eat his T-Bonz. Problem is, we fed him a T-Bonz on Sunday night, and on Monday morning, he puked it up. Whole.
Chris took him to the doctor. Tuesday the doc called and said that Sebastian was in severe kidney failure. There was treatment, but he was pretty bad, so it wasn't guaranteed. We made the heart-breaking and immensely difficult decision to put him down. Chris and I took him in on Wednesday, said our goodbyes, and let the staff take him away. Afterwards, they set him up in a room, and we went in and said goodbye again.
This was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. Chris agrees. We miss him, and strangely enough, we both sometimes still hear the click-click of his nails on the sidewalk, or his whining at the door. Give 'em hell up there baby! Give 'em hell.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Daddy
My dad called me today.
For some of you, this may not be a life-changing event, but for me, it's HUGE. My dad is a great man. It took me a long time to realize it, but I did right around the time I pulled my head out of my ass and realized I was a young punk kid who had no idea what the hell I was doing in this world. I was about 25.
My dad married my mom when I was about 6. I remember the wedding and thinking how LONG it was taking, cause I was only 6 and therefore, had the patience of a gnat. I was my mother's flower girl (of course) and my godmother was her Matron of Honor. My mother made her own dress, because my parents weren't well-off or anything, and my dad wore his best cream colored polyester suit. He looked like Elvis.
My dad raised and took care of me like I was his very own flesh and blood. The sperm donor who contributed to my zygote is and always will be a pathetic loser who has no sense of responsibility, but I'll save that for another post. In the meantime, let's move on.
I never felt like I was the red-headed step-child (which is funny, because I WAS a red-headed step-child!), because my dad included me on everything. He taught me how to swing a bat, throw a football, and change the oil in my car. He taught me how to chop wood, climb trees, and swing on a tire. My dad rocked.
Then I turned 15, and my dad sucked. At least, in my eyes he did. I hated how tough and strict he was, and I hated that he didn't understand what it was like to be a teenage girl. Most of all, I hated that he wouldn't let me do the things that all of my other friends got to do. Like date, and wear make-up. Yep, my dad was STRICT.
My dad was a deacon in our church. He taught us from the very start that God loved us unconditionally, and he emulated that love as much as possible. Sure, I got my ass busted, but you know what? I am a productive member of society. I have never performed a drive-by shooting. I have never robbed a bank. I have never beat someone to within an inch of their lives and when asked in court why I did it, blamed it on the fact that I was spanked as a child. As far as I am concerned, there aren't enough children getting their asses busted these days.
Whoa - before you get all high and mighty on me and tell me how awful I am for condoning spanking, I repeat - I had my ASS BUSTED on more than one occasion. And I am JUST FINE. There's a difference between having your ass busted, and getting beaten by an abusive parent. And truth be told, abusive parents are going to abuse their children whether spanking is against the law or not. So get over it. Moving on.
My dad adopted me when I was 16. I had always used his last name, but this made it official. Not that a piece of paper made me any more his daughter, because there was never a hiccup in the process.
When I turned 18, I high-tailed it out of that little town I grew up in and headed to the big city of Phoenix, Arizona. I thought I knew it ALL. My dad was disappointed, and I knew it, but I didn't care. It took me 7 long years to realize that I had been an idiot, and to this day, I feel terrible for hurting my dad like I did when I left the way I did.
But, being the awesome guy that he is, he has since forgiven me. He gave me away at my wedding. The first time the man has ever worn a tux, and I got him to do it.
Monday was his birthday, and I called his cell phone to wish him a happy birthday. I got his voice mail, so I tried again. I got his voice mail again, so I left a message. I sent a homemade card too. He called me today, to thank me for calling him and to thank me for the card.
I love my dad. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love ya!
For some of you, this may not be a life-changing event, but for me, it's HUGE. My dad is a great man. It took me a long time to realize it, but I did right around the time I pulled my head out of my ass and realized I was a young punk kid who had no idea what the hell I was doing in this world. I was about 25.
My dad married my mom when I was about 6. I remember the wedding and thinking how LONG it was taking, cause I was only 6 and therefore, had the patience of a gnat. I was my mother's flower girl (of course) and my godmother was her Matron of Honor. My mother made her own dress, because my parents weren't well-off or anything, and my dad wore his best cream colored polyester suit. He looked like Elvis.
My dad raised and took care of me like I was his very own flesh and blood. The sperm donor who contributed to my zygote is and always will be a pathetic loser who has no sense of responsibility, but I'll save that for another post. In the meantime, let's move on.
I never felt like I was the red-headed step-child (which is funny, because I WAS a red-headed step-child!), because my dad included me on everything. He taught me how to swing a bat, throw a football, and change the oil in my car. He taught me how to chop wood, climb trees, and swing on a tire. My dad rocked.
Then I turned 15, and my dad sucked. At least, in my eyes he did. I hated how tough and strict he was, and I hated that he didn't understand what it was like to be a teenage girl. Most of all, I hated that he wouldn't let me do the things that all of my other friends got to do. Like date, and wear make-up. Yep, my dad was STRICT.
My dad was a deacon in our church. He taught us from the very start that God loved us unconditionally, and he emulated that love as much as possible. Sure, I got my ass busted, but you know what? I am a productive member of society. I have never performed a drive-by shooting. I have never robbed a bank. I have never beat someone to within an inch of their lives and when asked in court why I did it, blamed it on the fact that I was spanked as a child. As far as I am concerned, there aren't enough children getting their asses busted these days.
Whoa - before you get all high and mighty on me and tell me how awful I am for condoning spanking, I repeat - I had my ASS BUSTED on more than one occasion. And I am JUST FINE. There's a difference between having your ass busted, and getting beaten by an abusive parent. And truth be told, abusive parents are going to abuse their children whether spanking is against the law or not. So get over it. Moving on.
My dad adopted me when I was 16. I had always used his last name, but this made it official. Not that a piece of paper made me any more his daughter, because there was never a hiccup in the process.
When I turned 18, I high-tailed it out of that little town I grew up in and headed to the big city of Phoenix, Arizona. I thought I knew it ALL. My dad was disappointed, and I knew it, but I didn't care. It took me 7 long years to realize that I had been an idiot, and to this day, I feel terrible for hurting my dad like I did when I left the way I did.
But, being the awesome guy that he is, he has since forgiven me. He gave me away at my wedding. The first time the man has ever worn a tux, and I got him to do it.
Monday was his birthday, and I called his cell phone to wish him a happy birthday. I got his voice mail, so I tried again. I got his voice mail again, so I left a message. I sent a homemade card too. He called me today, to thank me for calling him and to thank me for the card.
I love my dad. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love ya!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
...and Release.
I have been working my tail off. To the bone. Working for the man. Nose to the grindstone.
Now it is yet again another weekend and I am dreading it. I am dreading the passing of yet another weekend in a flurry of activity that the husband and I partake in to pass the time.
I want to relax.
The problem with that, is that I see what needs to be done around the house, and I can't relax.
So tomorrow night, I am doing laundry, and vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom.
So I can relax.
And...release.
Now it is yet again another weekend and I am dreading it. I am dreading the passing of yet another weekend in a flurry of activity that the husband and I partake in to pass the time.
I want to relax.
The problem with that, is that I see what needs to be done around the house, and I can't relax.
So tomorrow night, I am doing laundry, and vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom.
So I can relax.
And...release.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Disappointment
Disappointment comes in many forms in our lives. When we are young, our worlds are crushed by the fact that we didn't get a particular toy, or that we didnt get to go to a certain birthday party.
In college, we are disappointed at the fact that not only do we HAVE to take a Poly-Sci class, but it happens to be at 8:00 in the morning.
As adults, we are disappointed by many things. Our jobs, our friends, our husbands, even our children. Disappointment is a way of life, but we never really get used to it.
Such is the situation that The Hub and I recently found ourselves in. After emotionally investing ourselves in a house that we were having built, and through no fault of our own, we found ourselves suddenly losing the house. It was a mathematical error on the part of the loan company, but nonetheless, we were still disappointed. We were thisclose to being homeowners in this beautiful town, and now we are back to square one.
I had been an emotional wreck for about a week, and bitterness and anger were left to creep in. I decided that I couldn't BE that emotional wreck, and that things had to progress. So I picked, myself up, brushed myself off, and moved on.
Ready for the next disappointment.
In college, we are disappointed at the fact that not only do we HAVE to take a Poly-Sci class, but it happens to be at 8:00 in the morning.
As adults, we are disappointed by many things. Our jobs, our friends, our husbands, even our children. Disappointment is a way of life, but we never really get used to it.
Such is the situation that The Hub and I recently found ourselves in. After emotionally investing ourselves in a house that we were having built, and through no fault of our own, we found ourselves suddenly losing the house. It was a mathematical error on the part of the loan company, but nonetheless, we were still disappointed. We were thisclose to being homeowners in this beautiful town, and now we are back to square one.
I had been an emotional wreck for about a week, and bitterness and anger were left to creep in. I decided that I couldn't BE that emotional wreck, and that things had to progress. So I picked, myself up, brushed myself off, and moved on.
Ready for the next disappointment.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Responsibility
Sometimes I really, really hate that word. I don't want to be a grown-up. I want to be able to go back to bed in the morning. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to pay bills. I don't want to do what's right for our future.
I want to PLAY.
We were supposed to go to Maui this weekend. A nice, five day trip to the sun and fun that is the tropical isle. But instead, something with his work came up and now we can't go. So we are relegated to a quick two day trip to Phoenix. Which in and of itself is going to be nice too, we'll get to see some of our friends, and my son, but it's not Maui.
I need a nap.
I want to PLAY.
We were supposed to go to Maui this weekend. A nice, five day trip to the sun and fun that is the tropical isle. But instead, something with his work came up and now we can't go. So we are relegated to a quick two day trip to Phoenix. Which in and of itself is going to be nice too, we'll get to see some of our friends, and my son, but it's not Maui.
I need a nap.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Birthday Weekend Episode I: The Crash
So I threw my husband a 30th Birthday Bash this weekend. It all started on Thursday night when B, C and A flew in to kick the weekend off right. We stopped at a little pub downtown, The Princess Pub, and decided to have a little drink. Or two. Maybe some shots thrown in for good measure. And some darts. And maybe one more drink.
So we head home at about 11:30. We decide to play some Texas Hold 'Em. It gets down to the Hub and I at the table and we agree to split the money, cause we could have been there all night, and well, I wasn't in the mood.
Now it's time for bed. Only A isn't ready for bed. It's 2:00 a.m. and the boys have to be up in about three hours. They were headed out on a deep sea fishing trip first thing in the morning and the boat left at 6:30, with or without them. So we get A to bed. He's pretty drinky, cause he doesn't drinky very much anymore. He asks The Hub to put SportsCenter on for him, so he does, and then comes in and lays down.
Not even ten seconds later, we hear A yell about something on SportsCenter, and in the pitch dark of the house, drunk and not knowing the layout, he comes hauling balls into our room. He trips over the door jam and face plants into the corner of my bed. The Hub and I feel the bed shake, and he gets up and the convo goes something like this:
Hub: Dude, you alright?
Adam: Dude, I think I'm bleeding.
Hub: You're bleeding?
Adam: Yeah, I think I am.
So A goes to the bathroom and Hub gets up and turns on the lights. I get up and there is BLOOD EVERYWHERE. It is on my floor, and on my dresser, and on my comforter, and up my WALL. If this were an episode of CSI, we'd be going to jail fo' sho'. So I get a washcloth and start to clean it up. The Hub goes into the bathroom and I hear him say "Dude, you need stitches." And I hear A say "Nah, I'm alright." And I hear the Hub say "No, really, you need stitches." And I'm cleaning up the crime scene and thinking, MY GOD, it is 2:15 in the morning! On Cinco De Freaking Mayo. We're NEVER getting out of the ER tonight. So I go look.
A had a gash in his upper lip about an inch and a half long, with a piece of his lip hanging. And then, just below his nose on the same side, a two inch open gash. Where his teeth went through. So I get dressed and take the Banger Brothers to the ER. Surprisingly, there was only one other person ahead of him. They took him in, sewed him up, and we were off. We got home at about 4:00 a.m. I had literally been awake for 22 hours. I got him rested, and I got the Hub in bed, and I passed out.
For an hour, until I had to get up and make coffee and get the boys out the door.
It was going to be a long weekend.
So we head home at about 11:30. We decide to play some Texas Hold 'Em. It gets down to the Hub and I at the table and we agree to split the money, cause we could have been there all night, and well, I wasn't in the mood.
Now it's time for bed. Only A isn't ready for bed. It's 2:00 a.m. and the boys have to be up in about three hours. They were headed out on a deep sea fishing trip first thing in the morning and the boat left at 6:30, with or without them. So we get A to bed. He's pretty drinky, cause he doesn't drinky very much anymore. He asks The Hub to put SportsCenter on for him, so he does, and then comes in and lays down.
Not even ten seconds later, we hear A yell about something on SportsCenter, and in the pitch dark of the house, drunk and not knowing the layout, he comes hauling balls into our room. He trips over the door jam and face plants into the corner of my bed. The Hub and I feel the bed shake, and he gets up and the convo goes something like this:
Hub: Dude, you alright?
Adam: Dude, I think I'm bleeding.
Hub: You're bleeding?
Adam: Yeah, I think I am.
So A goes to the bathroom and Hub gets up and turns on the lights. I get up and there is BLOOD EVERYWHERE. It is on my floor, and on my dresser, and on my comforter, and up my WALL. If this were an episode of CSI, we'd be going to jail fo' sho'. So I get a washcloth and start to clean it up. The Hub goes into the bathroom and I hear him say "Dude, you need stitches." And I hear A say "Nah, I'm alright." And I hear the Hub say "No, really, you need stitches." And I'm cleaning up the crime scene and thinking, MY GOD, it is 2:15 in the morning! On Cinco De Freaking Mayo. We're NEVER getting out of the ER tonight. So I go look.
A had a gash in his upper lip about an inch and a half long, with a piece of his lip hanging. And then, just below his nose on the same side, a two inch open gash. Where his teeth went through. So I get dressed and take the Banger Brothers to the ER. Surprisingly, there was only one other person ahead of him. They took him in, sewed him up, and we were off. We got home at about 4:00 a.m. I had literally been awake for 22 hours. I got him rested, and I got the Hub in bed, and I passed out.
For an hour, until I had to get up and make coffee and get the boys out the door.
It was going to be a long weekend.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
My Best Friend...
My husband turned 30 today. He has been in my life now for over 6 years and it has been some of the best years of my life. Don't get me wrong, we still have our arguments and disagreements and fights, but I wouldn't and couldn't see my life without him. He is, by far, the best thing that ever happened to me, after of course, the birth of my son.
The Hub and I met six years ago in a bar in Tempe, Arizona. He was 23, I was 27. I had gone through a divorce, and for the record, was NOT in the mood for a boyfriend, committment, whatever. Yup, I was looking for some ass. Call me crazy, call me a slut, but guys do it all the time.
I'll spare you the details, mainly because HE doesn't remember it right, ever, but we danced and laughed and he walked me to my car. When he asked me for my number, I told him I had a 4 year old son. He didn't even blink and said "OK". I gave him my number and we parted ways.
He called me the next day. And came and took me and my roommate out to lunch. And PAID for it. **sigh**
We made plans to go out again. He said to call him. I did, and got his answering machine. With a girl's voice on it. I'm sorry, let me repeat that **ahem** (bullhorn voice) With A GIRL'S voice on it.
Can you even imagine the conversation that went on between my roommate and I after that phone call? I left a message. I figured if he had a girlfriend, she needed to know what the dirty dog was up to. Hmph. I'll show him. I never expected to hear from him again.
But he called. And the voice? It was HIS roommate. Who wound up being one of my bridesmaid's, but I'm rushing ahead.
I'll spare you the details of the next six years, but I'll sum it up - we started dating, moved in together, built a house, got married, and moved to San Diego. In that order. With some other stuff thrown in for good measure.
And today, he gave up going to Happy Hour and a ballgame with some friends from work to spend his birthday with me.
His best friend.
The Hub and I met six years ago in a bar in Tempe, Arizona. He was 23, I was 27. I had gone through a divorce, and for the record, was NOT in the mood for a boyfriend, committment, whatever. Yup, I was looking for some ass. Call me crazy, call me a slut, but guys do it all the time.
I'll spare you the details, mainly because HE doesn't remember it right, ever, but we danced and laughed and he walked me to my car. When he asked me for my number, I told him I had a 4 year old son. He didn't even blink and said "OK". I gave him my number and we parted ways.
He called me the next day. And came and took me and my roommate out to lunch. And PAID for it. **sigh**
We made plans to go out again. He said to call him. I did, and got his answering machine. With a girl's voice on it. I'm sorry, let me repeat that **ahem** (bullhorn voice) With A GIRL'S voice on it.
Can you even imagine the conversation that went on between my roommate and I after that phone call? I left a message. I figured if he had a girlfriend, she needed to know what the dirty dog was up to. Hmph. I'll show him. I never expected to hear from him again.
But he called. And the voice? It was HIS roommate. Who wound up being one of my bridesmaid's, but I'm rushing ahead.
I'll spare you the details of the next six years, but I'll sum it up - we started dating, moved in together, built a house, got married, and moved to San Diego. In that order. With some other stuff thrown in for good measure.
And today, he gave up going to Happy Hour and a ballgame with some friends from work to spend his birthday with me.
His best friend.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Captain Save-A-Ho
There is an underground superhero that most people don't know about. He is suave (or so he thinks), cool (like the other side of the pillow) and sweet. He loves the ladies and the ladies love him.
He is...
Captain Save-A-Ho.
I have only heard this expression twice in my life and both times were from two people who crack my shit up on a consistent basis. They know who they are.
Anyway, Captain Save-A-Ho likes the ladies. He likes to be with the ladies. He likes the ladies to adore him, cause, well, he saves the Ho's. And I mean the word 'Ho' in a good way. Like a generalism for women who like to be saved, anyway.
Captain Save-A-Ho's weakness is this: He thinks he's a player, but in all actuality, he's really not. The boy has about as much game as halftime at an NCAA tournament. He's obvious, obnoxious, and for crying out loud, let me introduce you to 24 Hour Fitness, cause the last time I checked, only pregnant women should have a gut like that. And while you are at it, let's do some manscaping. Let me introduce you to Mr. Tweezer and Miss Conditioner. And for all that is holy, would you mind washing out the old gel before inserting the new? You look like FogHorn Leghorn with that cock-a-doodle mohawk going on.
Alas, tho, Captain Save-A-Ho has redeeming qualities. He's nice, he's generous, and he will make the woman he is with at the time feel like she is the only woman in the world.
Well, at least until the next Ho walks by.
Look - up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's........
Ah - you get it.
He is...
Captain Save-A-Ho.
I have only heard this expression twice in my life and both times were from two people who crack my shit up on a consistent basis. They know who they are.
Anyway, Captain Save-A-Ho likes the ladies. He likes to be with the ladies. He likes the ladies to adore him, cause, well, he saves the Ho's. And I mean the word 'Ho' in a good way. Like a generalism for women who like to be saved, anyway.
Captain Save-A-Ho's weakness is this: He thinks he's a player, but in all actuality, he's really not. The boy has about as much game as halftime at an NCAA tournament. He's obvious, obnoxious, and for crying out loud, let me introduce you to 24 Hour Fitness, cause the last time I checked, only pregnant women should have a gut like that. And while you are at it, let's do some manscaping. Let me introduce you to Mr. Tweezer and Miss Conditioner. And for all that is holy, would you mind washing out the old gel before inserting the new? You look like FogHorn Leghorn with that cock-a-doodle mohawk going on.
Alas, tho, Captain Save-A-Ho has redeeming qualities. He's nice, he's generous, and he will make the woman he is with at the time feel like she is the only woman in the world.
Well, at least until the next Ho walks by.
Look - up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's........
Ah - you get it.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Whatever Happened to Just Crazy?
**WARNING** Extremely snarky and/or controversial and/or offending post ahead. Proceed with caution.
Remember the days when we wouldn't have to put warnings on stuff? I am reminded of the time the lady that spilled hot McDonald's coffee on her lap sued them because there was no warning on the cup that it was hot. I shook my head and chalked it up to stupid. I mean really, who doesn't know that coffee is HOT? And lately, the prescription drug ads have this former auctioneer at the end rattling off the possible side effects of said drug. It goes something like this: Warning: extended use of medication may cause drowsiness, sleeplessness, constipation, diarrhea, low blood pressure, high blood pressure, anxiety, depression and death. Wha?
The latest round of crazy people have decided to sue the fast food companies for making them fat. Oh - right! Because every time I go to a fast food restaurant, they open my mouth forcefully and jam those fats and carbs and calories down my throat. Ummm...NO! I am fully aware of the consequences of the McGriddle Sandwich. I know that my ever-expanding ass is the result of too many Pepsi's and KFC mashed potato's and not enough exercising. I also know that I have no one to blame but myself for the actions I take that result in the consequences I get that are my life.
So this morning when the radio alarm went off, I rolled over and instead of hitting snooze, started listening to what the DJ's were talking about. They were talking about whether or not you as a listening audience would report someone that you saw shoplifting to the store manager. I am thinking "Hell ya, I would!" Well, this rocket-scientist slash brain surgeon calls in and says "What about kleptomaniacs? They can't help themselves. You would rat them out? Maybe you should just mind your own business and leave them alone." And the DJ, who I could tell was taken aback AND pissed off at the same time, says "Are you kidding me? Maybe if they get caught, they would get the help they need?" Rocket-scientist disagreed, repeating herself, "They can't help it."
To quote Chris Rock "Whatever happened to just crazy?"
So what she is saying is that Serial Sex Offenders can't help themselves, so we just let them go on about their business? Well, call Michael Jackson's attorney and tell him that Mikey is free! Let him go on doing what he's doing, cause he can't help himself! Boy won't the County of Los Angeles and mothers of boys EVERYWHERE be happy?
Why are we, as a society, so quick to throw a new drug at someone, rather than finding a cure for what ails them? I admit, I am one of those hesitant ones who do not believe that medication is the key. I have to be hurting pretty bad to take ANY medication. I was passing kidney stones one weekend and refused to take the Vicodin the doc gave me. Not only that, but I went to Rocky Point for the weekend, strainer and all.
If it were up to me, NO ONE would be medicated so easily. Oh sure, I believe in imbalances in brain chemicals - but dammit, what is the CAUSE? Like I always say, the money is in the treatment, not the cure. I am also not talking about those who have grave illnesses, like cancer and leukemia. I am speaking about women and men who tell their doctor that they just aren't feeling good so the doc throws a med at them. When I don't feel good, I go on vacation! And damn if I don't feel like a champ when I get back. Depressed because your neighbor's lawn looks better than yours? Take this drug! Upset because the laundry isn't dry yet? Take this one! Oh - and if you really feel bad because you don't have the capacity to deal with life and would rather blame everyone around you - I'll give you two to take!
I have a good friend who's father sexually abused her and her sister. She does NOT use it as a crutch, she does NOT take medication for it. She built a bridge and GOT OVER IT. She is one of my heros.
Ever watch the Discovery Channel? Ever watch when they go deep into the Amazon and find a tribe that has been living, happily and drug free, for years and years? Ever wonder WHY?
Oh sure, we can blame pollutants, and preservatives, and radio waves, and, and, and...
But when is the time for us to take up the responsibility of our own actions? When?
Remember the days when we wouldn't have to put warnings on stuff? I am reminded of the time the lady that spilled hot McDonald's coffee on her lap sued them because there was no warning on the cup that it was hot. I shook my head and chalked it up to stupid. I mean really, who doesn't know that coffee is HOT? And lately, the prescription drug ads have this former auctioneer at the end rattling off the possible side effects of said drug. It goes something like this: Warning: extended use of medication may cause drowsiness, sleeplessness, constipation, diarrhea, low blood pressure, high blood pressure, anxiety, depression and death. Wha?
The latest round of crazy people have decided to sue the fast food companies for making them fat. Oh - right! Because every time I go to a fast food restaurant, they open my mouth forcefully and jam those fats and carbs and calories down my throat. Ummm...NO! I am fully aware of the consequences of the McGriddle Sandwich. I know that my ever-expanding ass is the result of too many Pepsi's and KFC mashed potato's and not enough exercising. I also know that I have no one to blame but myself for the actions I take that result in the consequences I get that are my life.
So this morning when the radio alarm went off, I rolled over and instead of hitting snooze, started listening to what the DJ's were talking about. They were talking about whether or not you as a listening audience would report someone that you saw shoplifting to the store manager. I am thinking "Hell ya, I would!" Well, this rocket-scientist slash brain surgeon calls in and says "What about kleptomaniacs? They can't help themselves. You would rat them out? Maybe you should just mind your own business and leave them alone." And the DJ, who I could tell was taken aback AND pissed off at the same time, says "Are you kidding me? Maybe if they get caught, they would get the help they need?" Rocket-scientist disagreed, repeating herself, "They can't help it."
To quote Chris Rock "Whatever happened to just crazy?"
So what she is saying is that Serial Sex Offenders can't help themselves, so we just let them go on about their business? Well, call Michael Jackson's attorney and tell him that Mikey is free! Let him go on doing what he's doing, cause he can't help himself! Boy won't the County of Los Angeles and mothers of boys EVERYWHERE be happy?
Why are we, as a society, so quick to throw a new drug at someone, rather than finding a cure for what ails them? I admit, I am one of those hesitant ones who do not believe that medication is the key. I have to be hurting pretty bad to take ANY medication. I was passing kidney stones one weekend and refused to take the Vicodin the doc gave me. Not only that, but I went to Rocky Point for the weekend, strainer and all.
If it were up to me, NO ONE would be medicated so easily. Oh sure, I believe in imbalances in brain chemicals - but dammit, what is the CAUSE? Like I always say, the money is in the treatment, not the cure. I am also not talking about those who have grave illnesses, like cancer and leukemia. I am speaking about women and men who tell their doctor that they just aren't feeling good so the doc throws a med at them. When I don't feel good, I go on vacation! And damn if I don't feel like a champ when I get back. Depressed because your neighbor's lawn looks better than yours? Take this drug! Upset because the laundry isn't dry yet? Take this one! Oh - and if you really feel bad because you don't have the capacity to deal with life and would rather blame everyone around you - I'll give you two to take!
I have a good friend who's father sexually abused her and her sister. She does NOT use it as a crutch, she does NOT take medication for it. She built a bridge and GOT OVER IT. She is one of my heros.
Ever watch the Discovery Channel? Ever watch when they go deep into the Amazon and find a tribe that has been living, happily and drug free, for years and years? Ever wonder WHY?
Oh sure, we can blame pollutants, and preservatives, and radio waves, and, and, and...
But when is the time for us to take up the responsibility of our own actions? When?
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Va-Kay-Shun
va·ca·tion n.
1. A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation, especially one with pay granted to an employee.
2. A holiday.
3. A fixed period of holidays, especially one during which a school, court, or business suspends activities.
I need one of those, badly. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and nothing sounds better to me right now than laying on a beach somewhere (other than here) with a drink in my hand listening to the waves crash against the rocks.
The Hub needs a vacation also. So, we have decided, with a group of close friends, to head to Maui for a long weekend. Leave on a Friday, come back on a Wednesday morning.
I love Maui and I cannot wait. Here's to Mai Tai's and crashing waves. I can hear them already!
1. A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation, especially one with pay granted to an employee.
2. A holiday.
3. A fixed period of holidays, especially one during which a school, court, or business suspends activities.
I need one of those, badly. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and nothing sounds better to me right now than laying on a beach somewhere (other than here) with a drink in my hand listening to the waves crash against the rocks.
The Hub needs a vacation also. So, we have decided, with a group of close friends, to head to Maui for a long weekend. Leave on a Friday, come back on a Wednesday morning.
I love Maui and I cannot wait. Here's to Mai Tai's and crashing waves. I can hear them already!
Friday, April 15, 2005
Supply and Demand
There is a conspiracy here in Southern California with homebuilders. You see, when you want to buy a newly constructed house, you can't just say, go in to the sales office, plunk down your good faith deposit, sign a few papers, and off you go. No, it's a dance here. A dance of the type that no one really wants to perform. I think secretly there is one person in charge sitting in his 2,000 square foot mahogany desk and slate tiled office laughing because of the 17 or so people that want to buy the five houses he is going to release for sale. I am getting ahead of myself though. For those non-SoCalians (Yes, it's a word!!), let me grant you your Bachelor's in Buying a House in SoCal, with a minor in Pre-Qualification and an emphasis on The Wait.
Here's a quick rundown of the process:
You visit countless, endless communities and finally find a house you are happy with. And when I say 'happy', I mean that is bigger than a breadbox and doesn't need at least $100,000 worth of remodeling. Hence the new construction we went after. And of course, even after we found said house, we still looked at about twelve more communities, just to be sure.
The next step to this mad dance is to get "Pre-Qualified". Now mind you, this is NOT the same as being pre-approved, it is simply a process by which they pull your credit, verify your income, make sure you don't have another mortgage out there somewhere (a trick they use to deter investors), and laugh hysterically at your application while imagining you selling your body parts on EBay to make this ridiculously high payment. Hey, who says bankers are stuffy?
Once you are Pre-Qual'ed, you go on a priority list. Which is basically a score card for who can get the most suckers reeled in for the week. I believe Vegas has a seedy betting room for the over/under on this one. And then you wait. And wait. And. Wait. See, the builder is trying to populate his Pre-Qual list, even though he knows damn well that he only plans on releasing maybe five or six houses, and the list is twenty or thirty deep.
We got Pre-Qual'ed about three weeks ago. And have. Been. Waiting. Can you tell my patience is running thin?
I have the sales office on speed dial. I call at least once a week. The Hub calls at least once a week. And sometimes, we call pretending we are strangers and just want to know if anything is getting released. Have I heard anything yet? Nope. Not a damn thing. Just that they "hope" that they will be released this weekend, and oh gosh, they thought they would release them last weekend. Yeah, that would have been nice.
So imagine this: people clawing and scratching to get a house. Clawing and scratching.
All for the privilege of a $3100 house payment. That of course, is with taxes, interest, HOA, and Mello-Roos.
I feel honored. Now just release my damn house already.
Here's a quick rundown of the process:
You visit countless, endless communities and finally find a house you are happy with. And when I say 'happy', I mean that is bigger than a breadbox and doesn't need at least $100,000 worth of remodeling. Hence the new construction we went after. And of course, even after we found said house, we still looked at about twelve more communities, just to be sure.
The next step to this mad dance is to get "Pre-Qualified". Now mind you, this is NOT the same as being pre-approved, it is simply a process by which they pull your credit, verify your income, make sure you don't have another mortgage out there somewhere (a trick they use to deter investors), and laugh hysterically at your application while imagining you selling your body parts on EBay to make this ridiculously high payment. Hey, who says bankers are stuffy?
Once you are Pre-Qual'ed, you go on a priority list. Which is basically a score card for who can get the most suckers reeled in for the week. I believe Vegas has a seedy betting room for the over/under on this one. And then you wait. And wait. And. Wait. See, the builder is trying to populate his Pre-Qual list, even though he knows damn well that he only plans on releasing maybe five or six houses, and the list is twenty or thirty deep.
We got Pre-Qual'ed about three weeks ago. And have. Been. Waiting. Can you tell my patience is running thin?
I have the sales office on speed dial. I call at least once a week. The Hub calls at least once a week. And sometimes, we call pretending we are strangers and just want to know if anything is getting released. Have I heard anything yet? Nope. Not a damn thing. Just that they "hope" that they will be released this weekend, and oh gosh, they thought they would release them last weekend. Yeah, that would have been nice.
So imagine this: people clawing and scratching to get a house. Clawing and scratching.
All for the privilege of a $3100 house payment. That of course, is with taxes, interest, HOA, and Mello-Roos.
I feel honored. Now just release my damn house already.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Terrible Friend
I am a terrible friend. Even before I moved 350 miles away, I was bad at keeping in contact with friends. Really bad. Now that I am 350 miles away, it's gotten worse.
My friend, Rika, who has forayed from the world of higher education to the world of higher caffeine, has weird hours. She works at a coffee house for cripes sake, so she has to be up at like 2 in the morning. I remember when she and I used to go out party and not go to BED until 2 in the morning. And that was if there was no after-party. Now we're in our 30's, and responsible, and we go to bed at reasonable hours. However, her schedule and my schedule have clashed so much lately that she is going to bed while I am getting unchained from my desk.
We miss each other.
The nice thing about it though, and about pretty much all of my relationships with my friends, is that we all understand that we are ALL busy. Very busy. And if we don't talk for a week, a month, hell, a YEAR, we can pick up the phone and pick right back up where we started.
Pictures With Friends
*Whoa! Two posts in one day!*
OK - I was looking at my wedding pictures the other day (cause I do that. A Lot.) and realized that I don't have any updated pics of me and my girls! Agh! How can that be? Maybe because we're so darn busy. (See post above)
So here's a couple for you. Hope they don't mind! And for clarification, I am in white.
Me and the Girls
The reason I am so happy....
My friend, Rika, who has forayed from the world of higher education to the world of higher caffeine, has weird hours. She works at a coffee house for cripes sake, so she has to be up at like 2 in the morning. I remember when she and I used to go out party and not go to BED until 2 in the morning. And that was if there was no after-party. Now we're in our 30's, and responsible, and we go to bed at reasonable hours. However, her schedule and my schedule have clashed so much lately that she is going to bed while I am getting unchained from my desk.
We miss each other.
The nice thing about it though, and about pretty much all of my relationships with my friends, is that we all understand that we are ALL busy. Very busy. And if we don't talk for a week, a month, hell, a YEAR, we can pick up the phone and pick right back up where we started.
Pictures With Friends
*Whoa! Two posts in one day!*
OK - I was looking at my wedding pictures the other day (cause I do that. A Lot.) and realized that I don't have any updated pics of me and my girls! Agh! How can that be? Maybe because we're so darn busy. (See post above)
So here's a couple for you. Hope they don't mind! And for clarification, I am in white.
Me and the Girls
The reason I am so happy....
Monday, April 11, 2005
Taking Care of Business
Exhaustion. Fatigue. Frustration.
I love my job, but I can come home every night feeling one of those many emotions. There is so much on my plate, sometimes I feel - overwhelmed.
I came home tonight and finished off a bottle of
Two Buck Chuck by myself. See, the Hub is in Dallas, attending one of the many weeks of MIT2 training he has to attend. So besides the cell phone counseling, I have, well, a big empty bed.
Yesterday I had lunch with some friends. Then I went to a movie with one of those friends. She's a single mom and we are so alike, it's scary. I remember the point in my life when I was where she is at. The things I did, the attitude I had towards relationships, and life in general. I respect and admire her, because she IS where I WAS, not so long ago. I see her point of view and I can relate. And for that, I am grateful. She personifies a lot of the things that I see as admirable in a person, and for that, I love her.
And I have only known her for a short time.
She takes care of business. She handles her single motherhood with a responsible attitude. Yet, she still has a great time. She takes care of business.
I wish only the best for her. And she knows who she is.
I love my job, but I can come home every night feeling one of those many emotions. There is so much on my plate, sometimes I feel - overwhelmed.
I came home tonight and finished off a bottle of
Two Buck Chuck by myself. See, the Hub is in Dallas, attending one of the many weeks of MIT2 training he has to attend. So besides the cell phone counseling, I have, well, a big empty bed.
Yesterday I had lunch with some friends. Then I went to a movie with one of those friends. She's a single mom and we are so alike, it's scary. I remember the point in my life when I was where she is at. The things I did, the attitude I had towards relationships, and life in general. I respect and admire her, because she IS where I WAS, not so long ago. I see her point of view and I can relate. And for that, I am grateful. She personifies a lot of the things that I see as admirable in a person, and for that, I love her.
And I have only known her for a short time.
She takes care of business. She handles her single motherhood with a responsible attitude. Yet, she still has a great time. She takes care of business.
I wish only the best for her. And she knows who she is.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Excuse Me, Ma'am?
As children, once we get a grasp on the whole time concept, we start looking forward to major milestones in our lives. Well, major in our minds at the time. When I was 12, I looked forward to being 13, cause it had the word "teen" in it. When I was 15, I looked forward to my "Sweet 16". And then, 17, because that's how old you had to be to drive in New Jersey, where I am from. And then the magical 21. And we all know why.
But after that, we spend a large amount of time trying to reverse the process. I can clearly recall loving the fact that I was 24, but not so much on the 25. The age just sounds weird to me. Then 28 rocked. I loved it! In fact, I was 28 for about two years! Not on purpose, but I loved saying it so much, that I would forget I was 29. Then I turned 30, and well, I loved that!!
I never really had an issue with my age. Those of you who know me know that I don't look my age anyway, so no stress right?
I was in the Taco Bell drive through yesterday picking up a healthy and nutritious meal for the Boy. When I handed the "kid" at the window my money, he asked if I wanted hot sauce. I said "No thanks." He, apparently didn't hear me and asked "Excuse me ma'am?"
WHAT?
I am NOT a ma'am. I am a Mrs. I will even answer to Miss. But Ma'am?
Oh good night, are the laugh lines getting deeper? Are my smile lines getting wider? Wait - is that *gasp* Crow's Feet??
And so the process begins. They say your body starts to really change in your 30's. The Hub is getting ready to turn 30 (yes, go ahead and crack about the cradle robbing), and he is starting to experience the same ached and pains that he laughed at me about three years ago.
Karma is a bitch, isn't she?
So with that I say, bring on the ma'am, bring on the laugh lines. If I have those, then I know my life is fulfilled.
Ma'am.
But after that, we spend a large amount of time trying to reverse the process. I can clearly recall loving the fact that I was 24, but not so much on the 25. The age just sounds weird to me. Then 28 rocked. I loved it! In fact, I was 28 for about two years! Not on purpose, but I loved saying it so much, that I would forget I was 29. Then I turned 30, and well, I loved that!!
I never really had an issue with my age. Those of you who know me know that I don't look my age anyway, so no stress right?
I was in the Taco Bell drive through yesterday picking up a healthy and nutritious meal for the Boy. When I handed the "kid" at the window my money, he asked if I wanted hot sauce. I said "No thanks." He, apparently didn't hear me and asked "Excuse me ma'am?"
WHAT?
I am NOT a ma'am. I am a Mrs. I will even answer to Miss. But Ma'am?
Oh good night, are the laugh lines getting deeper? Are my smile lines getting wider? Wait - is that *gasp* Crow's Feet??
And so the process begins. They say your body starts to really change in your 30's. The Hub is getting ready to turn 30 (yes, go ahead and crack about the cradle robbing), and he is starting to experience the same ached and pains that he laughed at me about three years ago.
Karma is a bitch, isn't she?
So with that I say, bring on the ma'am, bring on the laugh lines. If I have those, then I know my life is fulfilled.
Ma'am.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
A Matter of Faith
My faith was tested today - HARD. You see, I believe God has a purpose for each and every one of us on this earth. I believe He has a plan for me, although sometimes I am too stubborn to see it. There is very rarely anything that happens in my life or in the lives of those around me that I cannot see the good in.
Today was a different story.
I have an online friend who had twins last year. Two beautiful babies, Ethan and Emma. As is the case with most twins, the babies were preemie and Ethan was born with health complications. Long story short, he passed away in October. Ethan became an angel.
Sara moved on and stayed strong and became a wonderful mother to little Emma. Emma thrived and fought and was loved by all around her.
Emma passed away last night from complications due to an infection. Her little body just couldn't handle it.
Emma was seven months old.
I cried this morning. I cried like I haven't cried in a long time. I have been crying all day. I cry for Ethan, and for Emma, and for Sara. I cry for any mother who has lost their child. I cried trying to tell my husband.
My faith tells me that God does not give us more than we can handle. I watched Sara take Ethan's death and turn it into a positive, loving energy towards Emma. What I cannot see for the life of me, is how she will possibly deal with the hurt, the anger, the feeling of overwhelming sorrow that is probably one hundred times what I am feeling.
If you believe, please pray for Sara.
And hug your children tight tonight.
Today was a different story.
I have an online friend who had twins last year. Two beautiful babies, Ethan and Emma. As is the case with most twins, the babies were preemie and Ethan was born with health complications. Long story short, he passed away in October. Ethan became an angel.
Sara moved on and stayed strong and became a wonderful mother to little Emma. Emma thrived and fought and was loved by all around her.
Emma passed away last night from complications due to an infection. Her little body just couldn't handle it.
Emma was seven months old.
I cried this morning. I cried like I haven't cried in a long time. I have been crying all day. I cry for Ethan, and for Emma, and for Sara. I cry for any mother who has lost their child. I cried trying to tell my husband.
My faith tells me that God does not give us more than we can handle. I watched Sara take Ethan's death and turn it into a positive, loving energy towards Emma. What I cannot see for the life of me, is how she will possibly deal with the hurt, the anger, the feeling of overwhelming sorrow that is probably one hundred times what I am feeling.
If you believe, please pray for Sara.
And hug your children tight tonight.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Disneyland
Why is it that no matter how old you are, once you walk through the gates of Disneyland and set your eyes on Main Street, and get that view of Cindy's Castle, your heart becomes, well, happy? Is it true that we, even as adults, need an escape?
We took the Boy to Disneyland this weekend. It was part of his birthday/Easter/Passover present. I like to tell myself that I do it to watch the joy on his face, but honestly, who am I kidding? There is nothing like a good old fashioned ride on the Matterhorn. Or splashing down into the world of the Pirates of the Carribbean!
So we get to the park at 7:30 a.m. and we stand in line waiting to get in. The gates opened promptly at 8:00. Our first stop was to get the Boy some pics and autographs, and that is precisely what we did. Four in a row. Like lightning. And we didn't have to wait for the best one of all, the King himself, Mr. M. Mouse. That's Mickey to you and me.
So we waited in lines and bumped into people, and generally had a really good time. With 98,000 other people. On Easter/Spring Break weekend.
What were we thinking?
Well, we weren't. But they don't call this the Happiest Place on Earth for nothing! So off we went. First stop: Buzz Lightyear, the Ride. And three minutes into it, it breaks down. Completely. Twenty minutes later, they let us off. Seriously folks, on the busiest day of the Spring, you can't get your newest ride to work? Oy! Give me the good old standby - I'm headed to the Matterhorn!
So we did that, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Autopia, Innoventions, Star Tours, Indiana Jones, and of course, Pirates of the Carribbean. Only no Johnny Depp, which I thought was a rip off. I mean, really, folks.
Innoventions was fun, as the boy got to be on a "Game Show" which basically turned into a giant Disney, Inc. commercial. They were plugging TiVo, and ABC, and of course, a lot of recent Disney movies, such as Miracle. Funny how that works.
We then went to Downtown Disney. We shopped, and ate at the Rainforest Cafe. And told the waitress it was the Boy's birthday so we could score him a free sundae, and embarass him with the loud clapping and yelling, of which I was a major contributor.
At about 6:30 p.m., we piled in the tram to head back to our $10 parking space to drive home. We made it up in an hour and fifteen, and made it home in an hour and a half. Not that the Boy would know, he was out before we put it in drive.
And so was his mommy.
We took the Boy to Disneyland this weekend. It was part of his birthday/Easter/Passover present. I like to tell myself that I do it to watch the joy on his face, but honestly, who am I kidding? There is nothing like a good old fashioned ride on the Matterhorn. Or splashing down into the world of the Pirates of the Carribbean!
So we get to the park at 7:30 a.m. and we stand in line waiting to get in. The gates opened promptly at 8:00. Our first stop was to get the Boy some pics and autographs, and that is precisely what we did. Four in a row. Like lightning. And we didn't have to wait for the best one of all, the King himself, Mr. M. Mouse. That's Mickey to you and me.
So we waited in lines and bumped into people, and generally had a really good time. With 98,000 other people. On Easter/Spring Break weekend.
What were we thinking?
Well, we weren't. But they don't call this the Happiest Place on Earth for nothing! So off we went. First stop: Buzz Lightyear, the Ride. And three minutes into it, it breaks down. Completely. Twenty minutes later, they let us off. Seriously folks, on the busiest day of the Spring, you can't get your newest ride to work? Oy! Give me the good old standby - I'm headed to the Matterhorn!
So we did that, and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Autopia, Innoventions, Star Tours, Indiana Jones, and of course, Pirates of the Carribbean. Only no Johnny Depp, which I thought was a rip off. I mean, really, folks.
Innoventions was fun, as the boy got to be on a "Game Show" which basically turned into a giant Disney, Inc. commercial. They were plugging TiVo, and ABC, and of course, a lot of recent Disney movies, such as Miracle. Funny how that works.
We then went to Downtown Disney. We shopped, and ate at the Rainforest Cafe. And told the waitress it was the Boy's birthday so we could score him a free sundae, and embarass him with the loud clapping and yelling, of which I was a major contributor.
At about 6:30 p.m., we piled in the tram to head back to our $10 parking space to drive home. We made it up in an hour and fifteen, and made it home in an hour and a half. Not that the Boy would know, he was out before we put it in drive.
And so was his mommy.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Ten More Things I Love About You
I got ten more for you - here ya go:
11. I love hip-hop/dance music. My new fave stations on
XM Radio are
KissXM and BPM. **Side note - have you gotten XM yet? OMG! Get IT!. End side note**
12. I enjoy old school video games. Like Frogger, Pac Man, Ms. Pac Man and Tetris. You can keep Vice City and Devil May Cry, really.
13. I travel. A Lot. The Hub works for a major airline and well, we get some fantastic bene's.
14. I collect shot glasses from every city the Hub and I have visited TOGETHER. That's the rule, it has to be together.
15. To relax, I read, write, or scrapbook. I need to be creating to be relaxed, but creating under my own pressure, not under anyone else's.
16. There is nothing like a great cup of coffee in the morning, or a soothing cup of green tea before bedtime.
17. I will not take prescription drugs if I don't have to. I like natural remedies, and will often "work out" a migraine via aromatherapy (spearmint and eucalyptus do wonders). I believe most of our healing is mental anyway.
18. My favorite snacks are oranges.
19. My favorite color is blue.
20. The person I know that lives the farthest away is one of the greatest friends I have and she became one in a very short time. Love and miss you Amanda!
That's it for now. Stay tuned.
11. I love hip-hop/dance music. My new fave stations on
XM Radio are
KissXM and BPM. **Side note - have you gotten XM yet? OMG! Get IT!. End side note**
12. I enjoy old school video games. Like Frogger, Pac Man, Ms. Pac Man and Tetris. You can keep Vice City and Devil May Cry, really.
13. I travel. A Lot. The Hub works for a major airline and well, we get some fantastic bene's.
14. I collect shot glasses from every city the Hub and I have visited TOGETHER. That's the rule, it has to be together.
15. To relax, I read, write, or scrapbook. I need to be creating to be relaxed, but creating under my own pressure, not under anyone else's.
16. There is nothing like a great cup of coffee in the morning, or a soothing cup of green tea before bedtime.
17. I will not take prescription drugs if I don't have to. I like natural remedies, and will often "work out" a migraine via aromatherapy (spearmint and eucalyptus do wonders). I believe most of our healing is mental anyway.
18. My favorite snacks are oranges.
19. My favorite color is blue.
20. The person I know that lives the farthest away is one of the greatest friends I have and she became one in a very short time. Love and miss you Amanda!
That's it for now. Stay tuned.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
I Almost Licked the Handle
Remember that VW commercial where the guy is at the dealership, and he's on the phone with his significant other, and they have ONE Jetta left in apparently the color she wants? Then this other couple starts to come out of the dealership and they have the keys to test drive THAT Jetta? He bends over and licks the handle. Funniest commercial I have ever seen VW make.
Fast forward to about a week and a half ago. I have been driving a 2002 Galactic Blue Jetta TDI (that's Turbo Diesel) for the last three years. I loved that Jetta. Sunroof, leather heated seats. And a bit of pep in it's step. I have to say I am a loyal VW customer. They make a good car. A tank. A rock.
Then I started noticing some new Jetta commercials. I heard rumors that they were changing the body style, not making them anymore, etc. I mosied on over to this website:
New Jetta
Sarah Jessica Parker would you get a load of THAT? Look at that sleek body style, that longer frame. What's this? Automatic RAIN SENSORS? Very cool. So I dropped it on The Hub. He likey. I likey. We wait for the release.
This was my life yesterday: We had server issues at work, I lost half my timesheet data for my hourly employees, and I am stressed to the max because payroll is this week. I got in at 7 and didn't leave (with no lunch) until 6. I called The Hub on the way home. Here's how the convo went:
Me: Hi Honey.
The Hub: Are you coming home today?
Me: Ha. Funny. Yes, I am on my way.
The Hub: Good, let's go look at the New Jetta's.
Me: No.
The Hub: What??
Me: I'm exhausted and not in the mood.
The Hub: OK
I get home. The Hub suggests we go get a bite to eat. I say ok. Then he drops it on me that we are going to run by the VW dealership on the way, to talk to Jamie. Jamie? You KNOW someone over there? He grins. You see, he's already talked to Jamie, and they are buds.
We get to the dealership. I sit in the New Jetta and fall in lust. Not fair. We test drive the New Jetta. I fall in love. So not fair. Then I see someone looking at MY JETTA. And then Jamie tells us that since they only have 2 left (yeah, 2! Of the 10 they ordered and had on Saturday!) that they are only selling ONE because they have to have something for other customers to look at. Why is it we always want something more when someone else wants it??
Make a not so long story shorter, I have said New Jetta sitting in my parking lot as we speak. It's grey. Oh - wait. It's Platinum Grey. And it's loaded. And I mean loaded. It's even got XM Sattelite Radio. Oh - and rain sensors.
And I didn't even have to lick the handle.
Fast forward to about a week and a half ago. I have been driving a 2002 Galactic Blue Jetta TDI (that's Turbo Diesel) for the last three years. I loved that Jetta. Sunroof, leather heated seats. And a bit of pep in it's step. I have to say I am a loyal VW customer. They make a good car. A tank. A rock.
Then I started noticing some new Jetta commercials. I heard rumors that they were changing the body style, not making them anymore, etc. I mosied on over to this website:
New Jetta
Sarah Jessica Parker would you get a load of THAT? Look at that sleek body style, that longer frame. What's this? Automatic RAIN SENSORS? Very cool. So I dropped it on The Hub. He likey. I likey. We wait for the release.
This was my life yesterday: We had server issues at work, I lost half my timesheet data for my hourly employees, and I am stressed to the max because payroll is this week. I got in at 7 and didn't leave (with no lunch) until 6. I called The Hub on the way home. Here's how the convo went:
Me: Hi Honey.
The Hub: Are you coming home today?
Me: Ha. Funny. Yes, I am on my way.
The Hub: Good, let's go look at the New Jetta's.
Me: No.
The Hub: What??
Me: I'm exhausted and not in the mood.
The Hub: OK
I get home. The Hub suggests we go get a bite to eat. I say ok. Then he drops it on me that we are going to run by the VW dealership on the way, to talk to Jamie. Jamie? You KNOW someone over there? He grins. You see, he's already talked to Jamie, and they are buds.
We get to the dealership. I sit in the New Jetta and fall in lust. Not fair. We test drive the New Jetta. I fall in love. So not fair. Then I see someone looking at MY JETTA. And then Jamie tells us that since they only have 2 left (yeah, 2! Of the 10 they ordered and had on Saturday!) that they are only selling ONE because they have to have something for other customers to look at. Why is it we always want something more when someone else wants it??
Make a not so long story shorter, I have said New Jetta sitting in my parking lot as we speak. It's grey. Oh - wait. It's Platinum Grey. And it's loaded. And I mean loaded. It's even got XM Sattelite Radio. Oh - and rain sensors.
And I didn't even have to lick the handle.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Things You Need to Know
So I have been doing this blogging thang for a bit and I have decided to do a Ten Things I Love About You post.
Here you go:
1. Extreme Makeover Home Edition makes me cry. Every. Damn. Time.
2. I adore horror movies. Slasher, psycho, psychological. Any type of horror/thriller movie turns my crank. Guess where I will be on Friday?
The Ring 2
3. I love my husband with a fierce, passionate and deep love. It is so deep that it hurts sometimes. Hurts. I hope everyone gets to experience that hurt sometime.
4. I love my son with an unconditional, protective, "I would take a bullet for you" love.
5. Though they sometimes drive me crazy, my mom and dad are integral parts of my world.
6. My sister was the biggest pain in my ass until we became adults. Then she was an even bigger pain. But I love her with a fierce love.
7. I love my job. It's stressful, and challenging, and there are days that I come home exhausted, but I feel fulfilled in my career for the first time in my life.
8. My dog is a spoiled rotten little Jewish man with fur. His mommy is Jewish, so, you know, the mother passes it on.
9. I love my God, and my Saviour. I won't get on a soap box here, but I have a deep-rooted faith in God that I can now look back and thank my father for. I ran from it when I was in my teens, and thankfully, my God is a forgiving one.
10. I love my friends with all of my heart. You know who you are.
Here you go:
1. Extreme Makeover Home Edition makes me cry. Every. Damn. Time.
2. I adore horror movies. Slasher, psycho, psychological. Any type of horror/thriller movie turns my crank. Guess where I will be on Friday?
The Ring 2
3. I love my husband with a fierce, passionate and deep love. It is so deep that it hurts sometimes. Hurts. I hope everyone gets to experience that hurt sometime.
4. I love my son with an unconditional, protective, "I would take a bullet for you" love.
5. Though they sometimes drive me crazy, my mom and dad are integral parts of my world.
6. My sister was the biggest pain in my ass until we became adults. Then she was an even bigger pain. But I love her with a fierce love.
7. I love my job. It's stressful, and challenging, and there are days that I come home exhausted, but I feel fulfilled in my career for the first time in my life.
8. My dog is a spoiled rotten little Jewish man with fur. His mommy is Jewish, so, you know, the mother passes it on.
9. I love my God, and my Saviour. I won't get on a soap box here, but I have a deep-rooted faith in God that I can now look back and thank my father for. I ran from it when I was in my teens, and thankfully, my God is a forgiving one.
10. I love my friends with all of my heart. You know who you are.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)