And lived to tell about it...

I read a post on another blog about someone hitting themselves in the head with a vaccuum cleaner. It made me think about a little incident that happened to my husband right after we got married...

It was November 1990, and we had been married oh, maybe 2 or 3 weeks. My husband was really big into watching boxing (back when it was interesting) and we had planned a little get together at our house to have a bonfire and some beer and watch the fight on pay-per-view.
So hubby gets the fire going and the guys are down at the fire drinking beer and cooking the dawgs and everyone is having a pretty good time. Nothing much to report so far.

This is the point of the story where I have to interject that at the time, we were heating our home with a wood stove, and my husband wouldn't use a chainsaw to cut the wood - his preference was a little more, well, manual.

Apparently, they got bored down there, and some brain surgeon in the group decided they should have a wood-chopping contest (with alcohol involved - a very bright decision indeed.) Well, the first guy does his thing, and then my husband is up to bat.

This is the next point to interject - my husband chops wood at an angle for some reason - to this day I do not know why.

Well, he hit a bump in the wood... and the AX bounces UP and hits him square in the center of his forehead.

If you know anything about head wounds, they bleed PROFUSELY. Little known fact - wrestlers use small razor blades to put tiny little cuts on themselves on the hairline to make it look like they have been mortally wounded. (useless fact for the day thank you...)

So at this point hubby realizes he has A PROBLEM - except his friends, instead of running up to get me, nearly pass out at the profusion of blood coming from hubby's head.

Weh-yul, Hubby decides to come up to the house himself before he might pass out - he grabs the dog's blanket and holds it on his head and comes into the back door looking like a chainsaw murder victim - blood is just POURING down his face and says:

"Honey, don't worry, but I just hit my self in the head with an AX"

I'm good. Really.

So being very young, and also having imbibed a bit myself (very good for the decision making process I tell you), I panicked. Hubby, being the stable one in the group says - "Call the Ask-A-Nurse hotline - quick!!!" Our hospital system at the time had set up a 1-800 number to cut down on superfluous 911 calls - so here we were putting it to good use....

Here is a transcription to the best of my recollection:

AAN "Hello"
ME "My husband just hit himself in the head with an AX. What do we do?"
AAN "An AX???"
ME "Yes. An AX."
AAN " Are you sure?"
ME "YES."
AAN "Did he hit with the sharp side or the blunt side?"
ME "Uh, the sharp side"
AAN "Is there bleeding"
ME "Oooohhhh Yeah....."
AAN " how much"
ME "Um, A LOT"
ME "Do you think he'll need stiches?"
AAN "Ma'am you need to call 911"
ME "Why?"
AAN "Ma'am please. Call 911."
ME "But he doesn't want to go!" Hubby did NOT want to leave his pay-per-view!!
AAN "Ma'am you reaaaallllyy neeed to call 911"
ME "...I think he can wait, he wants to watch his boxing match before going anywhere - can you just tell me how to stop the bleeding until then?"
AAN : CLICK
ME : "BITCH!!!"

Needless to say, that hotline didn't really last very long. And thankfully, while I was on the phone, one of the more lucid of the ladies there got my hubby cleaned up enough to discover that he only had a 1 inch cut square on the center of his forehead on the hairline (down to the bone - yuck!). So she drove me up to the CVS to get some butterfly closures and we doctored him up right there. To this day, you can barely see the scar.

Ours is a perfect marriage, I spend all my time trying to keep him physically intact, and he spends his time trying to keep me mentally intact.

I know yer nosey...

I think we, as human beings, are inherently nosey. That is apparent from reality tv. We'll pretty much watch anything about anybody else, because well, we just want to be in other people's business.

I'm going to indulge you today. I had today off, as my kids got an extra day out of school, and I'm like, screw it(!) I want to be off too. (Although I'll probably wish I had the extra vacation day later in the year to spend...but, whatever)

Here's a run-down:

1. Get up at 9:30am because Gizmo makes me - she's hungry, and there's a brand new box of Fruity Pebbles waiting in the kitchen for her to try.
2. Fix cereal in a bag with some milk in a sippy cup for Gizmo. Turn on cartoons.
3. Lay back down for 20 min.
4. Get up cause my head is starting to hurt. Weird, but since I turned 40, if I sleep too much I get the biggest headaches ever!!
5. Get up and eat raisin bran. I felt guilty because I had eaten donuts for breakfast all week and had to ingest something healthy
6. Get on computer, answer email, catch up on pageant gossip, check blogs for inspiration and prowl ebay for a steal on a pageant casual wear for Gizmo
7. Do laundry, clean upstairs bathroom, clean Gizmo's room - of course, she immediately comes up and drags everything out to play with AFTER i clean it, but that's okay, at least she will play in her room with her toys!
8. Wake up Firstborn.
9. Argue with Firstborn about getting up and straightening up his room.
10. Do more laundry (I swear it BREEDs in the laundry room when I'm not looking)
11. Drink a coke and take ADD meds + migraine meds (oh so thankful to have ditched the antidepressent not too long ago)
12. Take shower - yell at Firstborn to take his, since the first 14 times I asked nicely were ignored...
13. piddle around after shower getting dressed etc
14. Get Gizmo ready
15. Have family meeting on where to eat (this takes about 30min)
16. Have long, long, leisurely lunch with kids at Mexican restaurant talking about school, and various other subjects - yes, I had a margarita too!!! So there!
17. Go to shoe repair place (I won't get rid of shoes until they've been worn through at least ONE re-soling)
18. Go to alterationist - I also will repair clothes that I especially like... plus my kids are so skinny that I have to take everything to have the waist taken in
19. Go to Best Buy - purchase Hello Kitty speakers for my iPod, and iTunes card for Firstborn
- kids try to talk me into a bling skin my my nano, but I figure I can get one later
20. Pick up dry cleaning
22. Go to bakery and have cookies and milk, except Firstborn who only wants a soda
23. Go to Mall - argue with kids all the way through since by now Firstborn and Gizmo have reached fever pitch annoyance with each other - threaten to kill on contact if they continue
24. Try to buy clothes for Firstborn, he won't pick anything - even took him to Abercrombie and all he would do is bitch about how "embarrassing" his sister was being. (she was dancing to the music in Abercrombie - it was quite a show)
25. Try to shop some more for Firstborn at a couple other stores but he just wasn't interested.
26. Give up and take Gizmo to build-a-bear for a toy, but only if she promises to get rid of 3 toys she doesn't play with - select ADORABLE shamrock bear, with one outfit
27. Hubby calls, Firstborn's best friend is spending the night and he's already picked him up
28. Come home, pick up hubby, go out to eat at Cracker Barrell
29. Return from dinner, try out HK speakers and switch the laundry
30. Give Gizmo snack and let her watch cartoons while I post a blog
31. Will read Gizmo a story, put her to bed and then myself. btw... Hubby takes care of dealing with the boys - they'll probably be hitting golf balls in the basement until somebody drops of exhaustion - we have a room set up with a net and everything...

Exciting huh?

The biggest issue I had today involved a coat at the mall. I know I'm going to offend the anti-fur folks, but I wear a fur coat. I currently have a leather and Nutria coat I've been wearing 16 years, and although I get compliments all the time on it, it's just getting a little weary. Now most people get a fur and only wear it to church or weddings, but I WEAR mine. It IS my winter coat. I mean, why spend all that money on something and not use it regularly??? I finally found it's replacement at the fur sale... A pieced mink above the knee swing coat with an insane hood - I HAVE to HAVE it. Problem is it's $850 - I mean I paid $500 for the Nutria and wore it 16 years, I could get another 16 out of this one easy. I just can't make a quick decision on spending that kind of money... So that's what I'm sleeping on tonight. To get the coat or not. I would have been just fine if I hadn't seen it; you can't miss what you don't have - but damn it was a fine coat. It was just so, well, ME.

Ugh. Yet another silly thing to waste brain time on.

p.s. Don't feel bad for Firstborn that he didn't get too much today - last night all $700 of his new Nike golf clubs and bag came in - in preparation for golf tryouts in 2 weeks. Oh they are wicked cool - we'll see how he does with them...

Ok - I shall officially declare myself stupid

I apologize for yesterday's post. Apparently, the mixture of still not feeling well, Valentine's day sucking the big one, and I was PMS-ing... BAD. I did email said offender, and it appears I accidentally hit the trash can...

MYSELF.

sorry (I'm feeling pretty small right now)

Heartbroken on valentine's day

Okay, so Valentine's is a bust all the way around.

I don't feel well, so hubby and I decided the weekend would be much easier to celebrate when I felt better and bedtimes and homework didn't get in the way. I can't sleep too well either so I'm up doing something that WAS fun...

But my heart has been broken by someone I wouldn't know if they hit me over the head with a chainsaw.

My feelings are deeply hurt because somebody doesn't want to be seen with me.

I made a post about playgroups & disco on a post of creative-type dad's blog.

http://creativetypes.blogspot.com/

and he deleted it. Probably because I mentioned our next pageant has a Disco Theme.

I figured sooner or later it would happen, with a name like pageant mom, but I didn't think it would hurt so much. He could have been POLITE and asked me not to post anymore.

I didn't post anything ugly or mean!!!

What would you do?

:o(

....Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

p.s. strep was a false alarm, but it didn't make my painful sore throat ANY better confirming at the doc's it wasn't strep - apparently sinus problems can make you feel just as bad...

Trying to update

I'm coming down with strep throat...I'm working on my links, so if I haven't added you yet (ya'll know who you are) , I just ran out of steam... I FEEL LIKE CRAP and fading fast. I just want to be sure nobody's feelings get hurt in the meantime...

Waxing Sentimental

We just got back from our annual ski trip this past week. It's tradition that every year we go to the slopes for Superbowl weekend.

I have found the ipod to be quite revolutionary to my skiing.

Here are my conclusions for favorite songs to ski by:

Green slopes:

H.A.P.P.Y Radio by Edwin Starr (Album Disco Gold ;o)
Glamorous Life by Sheila E
They're playing our Song by Trinere
Hella Good by No Doubt

(uh oh, my age is showing)

Blue Slopes:

Surrender by Cheap Trick
Vengence by Garmarna
Jam the Box by Pretty Tony (very 80's stuff)
Planet Rock by Old School Players (early hip hop so very 80's)
...update - I forgot to add Gimme Shelter by the Rolling Stones last night when I originally posted!

Black Slopes:

Cry by Tesla
Symphony of Destruction by Megadeath
I'm not Okay by My Chemical Romance
Bump by Rehab

Which brings me to wax sentimental about the first time I ever attempted to ski.

I was on the cusp of turning 30, and wanderlust was setting in. I had an 18 month old toddler, and frankly, was not feeling so hot about myself and was really not liking feeling locked to just working and child rearing. This is not usually a good thing for me because my sense of adventure and my sense of mortality get tangled up when this happens and it can lead to some very odd circumstances.

I thought to myself, "Self..." pregnant pause... "...we must do something fabulous!!"
Skiing is what fabulous, rich people do, so we must try it. Let's shake things up a bit!!! Besides, they generally have day care and ski schools for kiddies so we could do this as a family outing some day!!!

So, not having a clue, I bleached the crap out of my hair, then I booked a 5 night, 6 day ski trip to Killington, Vermont. I thought well really, how hard could it be? You just slap on a couple of sticks and slide down a hill....

For those of YOU who have no clue. Killington is the most badassest mountain of the East Coast. Who knew? I sure as hell didn't. That said, I went SHOPPING. Oh, I bought a fabulous purple bunny suit, complete with fur collar and fancy headband. I got the c-a-utest gloves to match, and of course some bitchin' sunglasses to finish the look. My husband got some bibs, and a beanie, and a jacket.

So we get to our inn - a wonderful, quaint little place with cardboard for walls and packed with half of the population of Newark, New Jersey. There were like, 10 people staying in the room next to us, and they would NOT shut up all night until about 3a.m. when my inner Redneck kicked in and I went to bang on THEIR door screaming for them to shut the hell up. It is customary for my husband to look away and simply pray at these moments (and prep for cleanup.) So needless to say, I was not starting out at my personal best on the first day.

So we take our gear and I head to the bunny slopes. I have my fabulous outfit on, and I am just so very Heidi of the Swiss Alps with my braids and cute headband and fabulous look. Hubby is not amused and insists that the green slope will be just fine for me and that the bunny slopes are a waste of time. So up we go. So on the lift he is instructing me on how to dismount, and do the "pizza" or "wedge" to come off the lift. I was okay for about 3 seconds until I did a customary face plant coming down the hill off the lift. Think penquins on a waterslide. .................Pause for VISUAL................. Okay. So after about 10 runs of plowing in a significantly ungraceful posture down the green slope Hubby says we should go down the mountain. But there were a few small caveats.

1) Unbeknownst to me - green, blue, and black level designations at ski destinations are not STANDARD. They are relative to that particular mountain. And this was a particularly difficult mountain.
2) The winds had been getting up that day, and they were only running limited lifts and opening selected slopes at the top of the mountain.
3) Everyone at the resort that day had been skiing since they were embryos, and they were bowling for Southerners as well...
4) Hubby could actually SKI. I didn't really understand this when we got there, but when I mentioned that he appeared to be experienced, and asked why he didn't tell me he was a good skier, he replied "you didn't ask." (you gotta love my man of few words - and no, we really didn't talk much about the trip before going, he pretty much lets me take care of everything then he shows up to drive, cart luggage, and provide amicable company.)

So we get down to the quad lift. Shouldn't we check to see if the green slope is open. "NO" states hubby, "they wouldn't close the green slope." Are you sure??? "YES." aggravation apparent "Just get on the lift." Are you really sure?? "Get on the..." Okay, Okay...

Up we go.

When we reached the top (you gotta love East Coast skiing) the entire stretch of slope was solid ice. The wind was blowing so hard it would move you along the area completely involuntarily.

The Green slope was closed.

So I did what any self-respecting woman would do.

I began to CRY.

So Hubby scoots down to bottom of hill and insists that I come along too. So off we go..... I immediately fell at the bottom of the first hump - not graceful or pretty or anything - but something akin to laying a turtle on its back... I fell backwards with my skis up under me, knees down and forward, feet pointed toward flattened backside. I was STUCK.

So now I'm laid out like an oyster on the half shell, with people literally jumping over me, slobbering like a St. Bernard and my face starting to freeze from the tears and goo emanating from my deteriorating, terrified self. Oh and in case you didn't know, ski patrol won't help you down if you're afraid, they only help you down if you're like, mortally wounded...

A nice individual from out of nowhere eventually came up behind me, lifted me from under my armpits and shoved me down the hill. Which was fine but in order to make sure I didn't miss the 90 degree turn at the bottom of the hill (to make the turn meant you would LIVE... to not make the turn meant sure and instant DEATH off the side of the mountain.) So I ended up embedded in the side of the trail where they had scooped out the snow for the slope. Kind of like the character Two Face in the Batman sagas - one half in the snow frozen, the other poking out desperately waving for somebody to help.

Ohhh, I'm having so much FUN!!! >o( Um.... NOT!

I spit, swore, clawed, sat on my fanny and slid, picked, stepped, cried, panicked, rinsed, repeated ALL THE WAY DOWN THAT DAMN mountain. I looked at my husband when we finally reached the bottom (I'm pretty sure it took me about 4 hours) and said:

"I am GOING to THE BAR. YOU DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT TO!!!!!"

Minus one braid, with one side of my bunny suit torn, one glove on - one lost, mascara running down my face, and one sorely bruised bum and one sorely bruised ego. I took myself to the bar and had about eight Singapore Slings. I felt much better after that.

The next day I took a lesson.

To this day, I'm sure if I hadn't had four more days of lift tickets, I'd have quit right there on the spot.

I have since ditched the whole fashion thing, and now I opt for the international terrorist look. It tends to be considerably more functional for kicking butt on badass mountains now and is way more functional. Although I did buy some really funky periwinkle and white polka dot goggles this trip to make me the coolest mom on the mountain...

I'm a VICTIM I tell you!!! A VIC-TUUUUUM!!!!

I know this is hard to believe.

But I am a victim of profiling.

Soda profiling.

Now, just because I'm not going with the norm is no reason to single me out.

I just don't like diet drinks. I like Coke. Not Pepsi. Not Diet Pepsi. Just Coke. And only Coke (except for every morning at work and that's an AMP but that's a completely different blog subject.) And especially NOT DIET Coke!!! But invariably, no matter who I go to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with, I either GET the diet drink intended for the other parties (no matter if they are male or female) or my REFILL will show up as a DIET Coke. When I bring it to a wait person's attention that they brought me the diet drink errantly, they look at me like:

"sowhat'sthedifferenceeverybodyelseinthefreeworlddrinksityoumoronIreally don'twanttogobackandfixit ...."

I didn't think I was fat, but this is starting to give me a bigger complex than I already have. I think I know how poor Tyra Banks feels now (which incidentally I think she looks just FINE at her current disputed size!!!) Or maybe I just have that Gap Khaki, Diet Coke drinking, Mini-Van driving, Soccer Mom look. ( I have SO got to fix that.)

Somebody get me a lawyer....

Thanks Mom!!!

I don't talk much about Firstborn in my blogs, because most of the time, I'm not sure what to say... He's a walking case of tween hormones, perpetually perturbed, never available, emotionally volatile and basically your average, normal 12 year old boy. And he lives a pretty routine life, except for the fact that it takes a piledriver in his face to do anything more than the absolute bare minimum on ANYTHING.

So I thought it funny when he came to me today and announced

"MOM!!! I got a 94 on my Science Fair Project!!!"

Well, You're welcome, baby. Don't mention it.

Now, I think it's pretty universally known that the annual science fair project is mainly homework hell for parents and if truth be known, to avoid utter ruin at the water cooler and in front of the PTA, many parents end up, well, taking over for the poor kid. It's just easier that way.

We, however, chose the HARD way.

I was bound and damned determined he was going to do the bloody thing himself - even if it ended up we hated each other for life (and then some.) I think if Firstborn had put as much energy into actually completing the project as he did in fighting doing it correctly the FIRST time, he could have cut his time by three quarters, and used the spare time to scratch his butt and work on a perfect burp (both of which have myteriously appeared as favorite activities in his repertoire of stuff he WANTS to do...) Here was the original opening sentence for his project introduction (un-censored so for those parents who are faint of heart, please stop reading now):

My project is about how music affects plants. That's pretty much what my project is about.

Um, maybe I'm asking too much, but I believe the correct description of the sentence (in a nutshell) is "half-ass."

You would have thought I'd asked him to memorize the entire unabridged version of Crime and Punishment when I asked him to please re-write that introduction (which, incidentally, didn't get any better from the first sentence...) Then came the tears, and the I hate you forever looks, etc and so on. It took an HOUR to get him to write a 250 words or less introduction suitable for public consumption. Then another hour (same process) to write the Analysis, then another for the Discussion, yet a-nother for the Title page (no kidding) etc.... He'd write, we'd send him back to re-write. Over, and over and over and over and over and over and over....

We helped him put his graphs together, but he had to design them. We helped him print the pictures, but he had to write the descriptions. And so on. My husband and I had to tag team the process - when one would get tired, the other would take over.

Aside from the 3 weeks of analysis on the plants - it took over 3 DAYS to drag the kid through completing what is now known as "the project never to be mentioned again" in our house.
You'd have thought from all the arguing and tears and threatening and begging and bribing one of us would have snapped (oh yeah, I forgot, I already did...) This kid was going to do MOST to ALL of this project over somebody's dead body. And I was pretty convinced it might be HIS the way he acted through the whole thing.

The icing on the cake: The project had to be turned in on Friday morning and the weather was a lovely freezing rain mixed with just the right amount of knock you down wind. I got out of the car to help him take his poster in (did I mention the poster was like, 6 by 4 feet in dimension?), since his arms were full and I didn't want the blessed pictures to get ruined in the weather.

You would have thought I proposed to walk into his class, strip naked, and proceed to belly dance in front of his class from his reaction. The unmentionable horror of having your (CHOKE! GASP!) mother HELP you take your stuff to class was more than he could bear. The look of sheer terror on his face was both maddening and priceless. I didn't know whether to smack him hard or just hug him to death.

Upon his announcement of success, I asked him if all the pain and suffering was worth the grade...

His reaction? Totally priceless.

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about... when's dinner?"

Please. Somebody. Tell me we're going to live through the next few years....

**********

p.s. His project was to prove if classical music would improve plant growth. Oddly enough, he had three subjects exposed to different variables: a) no music b) rock music c) classical. Call it weird, or lucky, but the classical music plant out grew the other plants by 2cm and actually started out .5 to 1 cm smaller than the other two plants at the beginning of the project. Who knew??

War of the Mommybloggers ;o)

What is it they say? Oh, I believe the correct term is ROTFL...MY....ASS...OFF

Apparently the media has pissed off the wrong Mommys...um...LOL

I think it is terribly ironic and poignant that the same blogger/journalist who got me started in blogging because of her one-sided, misinformed, twisted and taken completely out of context observation on pageants, is now in an uproar because the media is presenting a one-sided, misinformed, twisted and taken completely out of context observation on a playgroup where the mothers have a glass of wine.

To quote:

"It's just another media-generated battle pitting mommy against mommy and frankly, I'm getting tired of it."

I really couldn't have said it better myself.

Um, where was this thought process when it was fun to bash the pageant moms? You called my baby a mini harlot, and that was okay... but now Meredith Veira implies that these mothers could be potential drunks and hazards to their children and that's an outrage? Frankly, I don't see the difference in what is done to pageant mothers and what is going on here.

"This is taken out of context!!!" a pageant mom has exclaimed. Detractors of pageants ignore the cry - it couldn't possibly be taken out of context, the media is soooo upstanding...

"We spend time with our children and we're not harming them. We're having fun!" a pageant mom has exclaimed. An implication of child abuse is implied in return.

"We get together and let our kids play!" the pageant moms cry! "Oh, but your child could never possibly have a REAL childhood in pageants..." sayeth the detractors.

"I'm not harming my child - she's having fun, we're having sleepovers and going swimming at the hotel and winning toys (otherwise she wouldn't be smiling)" retorts the pageant mothers.

.......

"I'm not harming my child, I'm just having a glass of wine..." retort the playgroup Mommys...

Aw sweet irony.

Frankly, I don't give a rat's rear end if a playgroup Mommy has a glass of wine with her friends while their kids run around the backyard. I think the media is just looking for another drummed up controversy. Kind of like kid pageants.

Yep, there are moms that take pageants too far. Hmmm, the story here has implied that moms who drink at a playgroup could take THAT too far and these Moms are upset at the implication. (Well, of course that could NEVER happen...)

I just think it's funny that they feel the need to DEFEND themselves, the very thing many of them have torn pageant moms a new one for doing.

HA HA HA..... HA!

(wha'd they expect? sympathy??? ....forgive me if I'm feeling a wee bit vindicated)

I wish I was making this up...

Okay, I PROMISE I am so very NOT making this up.

This morning was pretty rough at work - the daily sales files weren't making it to our servers for the field guys to pick up, our main server was down, everyone was complaining, the server admin guys were flustered, I had to update management on the situation every 5 min before the poop hit the propeller from a bigwig....

And a little ray of sunshine came across my desk.

Because our users work strictly out of home offices (all 832 of them) we have to be super careful how we send updates to their laptops. So we pretty much set up any updates in a way that hopefully, would not boggle even the most dense individual. KISS is our motto. Well, we've been working to get all of our users up to compliance with an important version of a particular software package they use, like, every minute of the day just about.... so in this case we were ESPECIALLY sensitive to the need to write out every. possible. step. clearly.

Probably most poignant was the fact that the particular issue was forwarded by Satan's minion #1 - and he didn't even blink at it...

Said user sent an email reply back to Satan's minion #1's directive that he MUST comply with the upgrade upon pain of fingernail hanging with the following comment...

"Minion #1, I'm TRYING to comply. But I'm so lost at step number 4. It says to double-click on 'My Computer' but it doesn't say WHICH FINGER!!!"

I simply could not contain myself. I lost it. I'll betcha it took me 20 minutes to get re-composed.

...to make it even funnier, Satan's minion didn't even miss a beat. In his forwarding comments he demanded we escalate an issue to the main Help Desk to be prepared for incidents like this.

It wouldn't have been so funny, if they hadn't been so stinkin' serious about it.

p.s. Everyone wonders why I voted to give them all Gameboys instead of laptops...

Thought for the day

I felt guilty for laughing at this but this little ditty came from the infamous pageant boards and it just gets funnier everytime I read it:

"Some people are like a slinky, not really good for anything - but you can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs..."

Right behind it was an equally funny yet disturbing post:

"The next time you find yourself on a plane, sitting next to someone who cannot resist chattering to you endlessly, I urge you to quietly pull your laptop out of your bag, carefully open the screen (ensuring the irritating person next to you can see it), and hit this link ."

http://www.thecleverest.com/countdown.swf

hmmm, must be the meds....

Um, little setbacks

Sorry I was gone so long. I had a little unexpected misstep...

It's funny how you can go through so much in life, and then something really small can knock you off your feet.

See, I have the best life and the worst life all at the same time and I stay constantly conflicted.

I have a great big house which most people want but I constantly stay overwhelmed because I fell like I can't keep it up. But my husband won't move because he nearly got killed building it.

I have a great job, but stay constantly nerve wrecked over the abuse I take in it daily. But I can't quit because it's the devil I know.

I have parents that pay for my children to get the best schooling, but it tears my family apart because they think it usurps all of my parental rights. I could pay for it myself, but then we'd have to stop EVERYTHING else we do for fun to pay...and if I put my kids in public school, I'd have to send them 30 min in the opposite direction from where we live from the other 30 min direction I go to my office. So if an emergency happened, it would take me a good 1 hr drive to get to them. The worst thing is, if we did take them out of private school, it wouldn't fix the parental issues anyway, and that's a much bigger story for a later blog.

But there are bigger parental issues - it's hard to explain. Maybe if I dole it out in little bits I can finally figure out why I either let the situation continue, or why the problems are always my fault.

My husband has flexibility in his job, but his family pays his paycheck and never lets him forget it. And he's not a real "happy" person, because he stays in pain and he has a job that's hard on his physical condition as well.

I know much of my troubles are self inflicted, but the straw on the camel's back came a couple of weeks ago.

They do a community sponsored sex-education program at my children's school for 7th graders. I personally wanted to put my son in it, but my mother demanded that we NOT put him in because "it just teaches kids about the evils of sex." Part of the dilemma is 1) we ask the school to lie to her if she inquires (which she does) and put him in...which you can see the fundamental issue with that since he goes to private CHRISTIAN school 2) now my son is the only one not going and feels kind of ostracized. Well, my husband had enough and we got in a fight over it, and I'd had a terribly bad day at work, and then my medical condition flared up (I have a rare skin condition that causes extreme itching when I get stressed out) and it all came together in a lovely case of ....

a NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

You know, the mind can be a funny thing. Everything can be okay, and you can continue to rationalize, until one day it all just comes crashing down on you. I really tried not to fall. I told myself that it's all okay, I'm just making things a bigger deal than they are. But I just couldn't do it. It's not something you ever want to go through, the numbness I think is the worst part and the crying. I just could not stop no matter how hard I tried. I thought of my children. I thought of the good things I have. But then the thoughts come "nobody loves me" "why can't I do a better job...?" (fill in blanks of better worker, better mom, fix all the family issues etc.) But the numbness just went deeper. My mind just felt like it was going into a dark abyss - and I was clawing my way out to no avail. I don't even have a really good excuse for it. It's not like I lost a child, or I'm going to die or anything. But it's still very real for some reason. I was sick, like the flu, they explained - it just happened to be with my mental health, and I needed to get well.

Thankfully, I'm pretty resilient and they gave me a strong anti-depressent for awhile - but the question is... why? why now?

Time flies....

Wow! Has it been an entire week since I could last post??

I guess I should let you guys in on a little secret - I'm living dog years. Yes, it might have been a week for you, but only a day for me. I used to be on people time, but somewhere around the first child being born, I got stuck in a time/space continuum warp and things have never been the same.

It's been a crazy week...

First - for those of you who are new, I work in corporate hell. And we are currently trying to transition year end for our sales force applications. Normally, it wouldn't sound like such a bad thing, but my two business users are card carrying minions of Satan and LOVE to make my life as miserable as possible. And last year, we had a cataclysmic disaster with closing (never mind the person executing the tasks was leaving the company, and the person taking over pissed off MY boss off so the entire time I was trying to get the new guy to rescue the system, my boss was trying to get him fired for lame reasons so he could get a buddy of his hired immediately...) which not only had the users "down" for creating sales goals and tracking actual sales for two months, ended up making us look like the keystone cops because our outsourced IT infrastructure (a world renowned services company that is referenced by the color blue that shall remain unnamed) kept FUCKING things up every time we'd get close to fixing the problem. To make matters worse, we aren't allowed to express their mistakes and have to take them as our own. ....So, the minions are rubbing it in this week. And I have good guys working for me now, so we are trying to put in as many stop-gaps, fallbacks, and checkpoints into the process as I think are humanly and computerly possible. I guess you could say we're still licking our wounds from last year... and I wish the flashbacks would stop...

Satan's minion #1 called me on Thursday, not to ask how things were going, or how they could help with the process... No... just to chew me out for 45 min about how stupid, incompetent, backlogged, and utterly worthless we are, as if we were looking for ways to be as inefficient as possible. Never mind THEY cut our budget 60 percent, which is what my staffing is based on. So I told him well, you get what you pay for.... needless to say, THAT went over well.

Then my Palm Pilot was lost/stolen. I have been struggling with extreme separation anxiety. I'm so dependent on that thing it's ridiculous. Good news is, my boss said they'd get me a cool replacement if I can't find it after another week...but I still have several more days to flounder.

And now we're getting back to pageant land. Had to take prissy miss Gizmo out of town for additional coaching. We're going for a grand at a big state pageant this month - I've not been as enthusiastic about pageants for awhile but Gizmo has been asking about doing one so I guess we'll give it a go. I hate to do anything half-ass so now we are practicing and getting ready... Where's my reality show???? Preparing for a pageant kind of changes your relative perspective, Yeah I know you're a corporate big shot, but if you REALLY want to impress me - let me see you get an even spray tan on a wiggling toddler and get her to do "surprise face" on cue on stage at any given time of day... then maybe I'll be impressed with you ;o)

Don't have the mensa schedule yet. Will keep you posted (no pun intended ;o)

I'll do better posting regularly now that I'm getting back into the swing of things!

To all who are trying to get in the groove of 2007 - Here we goooooooo.....!!!!!

Dear ol' Dad

A couple of years ago at the sprite age of 76, my Dad decided to take the Mensa Test.

And passed fabulously.

All my life he's lorded over me how much smarter he is than I am, and now he has a piece of paper to prove it.

He just called to bug me once again about taking it. And recently attending all his parties (at the various clubs he belongs including Mensa) has probably brought this about because he must be running out of stuff to brag about. So the bugging is getting more intense.

If I take it and pass - he'll be like "so what"

If I don't....

Rock. Hard place.

Should I or should I not? That is the question. (help!)

Half the battle is NOT getting there.

They should post a sign over any hospital door:

Your heart and dignity will be removed as soon as possible, please just get over it.

Well, after standing around with the corn fed boys of the rural fire brigade for 20 minutes or so (they were expecting to haul the skid loader out of the ditch, but my husband foiled that...) the ambulance finally showed up.

Now we live on the county line, so they wanted to take my husband to the rural hospital in the county we live in instead of the city hospital in the more metropolitan area where they have state-of-the-art care available. Sensing that this was no run of the mill broken leg, I did what any self-respecting woman would do in a moment of extreme stress.

I threw a hissy fit. Tears and all.

Eventually they agreed to take him to the city hospital. They didn't even look at my husband's leg, they just took his vitals and put him in. I even got to the hospital BEFORE the ambulance.

Now, I forgot to mention that exactly one week before this event, my husband had been to the same emergency room - with a KIDNEY STONE. The on call doctor for this event looked at me and said that I looked familiar, and keep in mind a state of extreme stress will make you say some pretty odd things...."Well, you did such a good job with the kidney stone, we just wanted see what you could do with this..." Don't ask why I said that - I call it "word vomit" - sometimes statements just come out and I can't stop myself (I'm sure there's a competent therapist with my name all OVER a folder somewhere...) The look on his face was priceless indeed.

When they finally got my husband into the trauma area, we pieced together what had happened... Apparantly, when the skid loader pitched forward into the ditch, to keep from sliding out and under the machine and being killed (as he was NOT buckled in) my husband stuck his right leg out to prevent himself slipping out. But in his frantic state to brace himself with his left leg, it hit the controls to bring the bucket down, and it scissored his right leg between the cross member of the arms that control the bucket.

His leg was basically amputated in place. CRUSHED. Smushed. But it didn't come off. And even more weirdly, no bones protruded. But it began to swell, and swell...

After they took him into the MRI tunnel, the doctors looked very grave indeed. Because apparently, a crush is not like a break, or even an amputation... you have this little problem associated with the death of tissue called "compartment syndrome" which sets up another little problem called "gangrene" which can quickly translate into "DEATH."

Educational moment in Cliff's notes format - there is an envelope that encases every muscle that feeds blood and oxygen to the tissue - compartment syndrome is when that envelope is damaged, and the tissue begins to die (gangrene). This puts poison into your entire body.

The doctor looked at me and said:

"We have to take the leg off or he'll die."

All I could say was "NO." And I nearly passed out dropping into a chair.

The wait is over

Well, Gizmo didn't win the big photo contest :o( But hey! nothing ventured, nothing gained... And talk about the longest wait in photo contest history!!! Geesh!

All the pictures are beautiful, I know couldn't pick just one (IF I was objective ;o)

I thought she would at least make tops, but she didn't (she usually does) Losing IS a bit merciful in a way - I can quit entering her for awhile (okay I could quit before I just didn't want to because, well, she was winning...)

Honestly, it gets VERY addictive when your kid wins because well... it's a fundamental concept - winning is fun, losing sucks. Period. That's why gambling can be such a problem...and I admit playing these photo contests are very much like gambling. And even the ads for these things are a bit Vegas-esque. But what else are you going to do with a picture that costs more than your monthly electric bill? And you can't even put it on your desk at work LOL

The loot report this year?

- 1 Holiday Collectible Barbie
- Free entries into other contests
- 1 Build a Bear with Outfit
- Monogrammed Tote Bag
- $325
- California Barbie Doll
- A Free photo shoot with a top pageant photographer
- and a write up in the premiere National Pageant Magazine

I'm not greedy - just thankful we get to play!

..Oh and yesterday I found the most FANTASTIC hot pink hat for her next shoot - no time to waste preparing for the next pictures!! There's necklaces to buy! and hair accessories! and gloves! and feathers! and earrings...and fuzzy scarves..... to the next shoot here we gooooo......

The Emergency Circus

Okay, sweater and slippers are on... back to our story.

Well, our neighbor's daughter, startled as she was, drove me up to the door of her house where she ran and grabbed her mother - who upon seeing me in my muddy,disheveled and frantic state became equally anxious about the whole situation. All I could do was blurt out: "Husband!" "In ditch... I think his leg is off....please I think they'll need to pull him out - heavy equipment involved" "Please just CALL 911...."

And I ran back. By now I could hear my husband hollering for me "GET DOWN HERE - WHERE AAARRREEEE YOU???? ARRRRGGGHHH......"

It actually sounded a little better (if you can believe that!)

Apparently, in the meantime, our neighbor who called 911 for us, called upon two of the most "useful" people that live on our street (out of what was like, all 8 of the houses on our street.) I like to call them Hansel & Gretel. Now, they are really sweet people, he's VERY British, and she's VERY German. Talk about your odd couples. He has a Poirot mustache and wears a lot of tweed, and she is tall and thin and very drawn looking and chain smokes constantly. They both have made a hobby of telling everyone that our street would not be NEARLY as clean and beautiful if it weren't for them laboring to pick up all the "litter" on their daily walks. And never mind their hatred of any animal that isn't a cat or anyone that can't play bridge... Anyway, I digress. This was actually my first meeting of these two - he brought a crowbar with him and she brought her cigarettes. How useful in an emergency. (Although I'm now convinced they're both former Russian spies still putting on an act along with the rest of the characters in the witness protection program on our street.)

So by the time I got back (again the whole slow motion time thing going on) they had driven down (Gosh, thanks for stopping and giving me a ride...) and my husband was...

NOT in the skid loader.

He apparently had enough wits, er, adrenaline (and a LOT of it) to get out of the skid loader and hop almost 50 yards up into our truck at the top of the driveway. The side of the truck was the picture of desperation as the muddy hand prints left a track of obvious clawing to get up into the vehicle.

But I STILL wasn't sure what happened. Except his leg was hanging at a very odd angle. A very, very, very, odd angle. With traces of blood beginning to seep.

But at least the screaming had died down to a gutteral moan at this point. Hansel had reached my husband before me, which apparently just managed to piss my husband off terribly... and Gretel was trying to console me (but she never dropped her bloody cigarette) while we were waiting for an emergency team to arrive.

At this point, as odd as it might seem, we got into an argument.

"Take me to the fucking hospital" he demanded. Now, being the hopeless romantic that I am I responded with basically "No, you idiot, what if you go into shock?? I can't help you... I am NOT taking you to the fucking hospital, I've called an AMBULANCE".... He was not in the mood to listen to reason.... "FUCK THE AMBULANCE, TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL!!!!!"

Weeeyooooo Weeeeeyooooo Weeeeeeeeeyoooooooooo

Thank God for Laurens County's finest. Our Volunteer Fire Brigade. But no Ambulance.

It sounds like everything was okay...but it was NOT.

The worst was yet to come.

Christmas

Well, since I can't sleep. (I either end up over-posting or under but never in-between)

I'm feeling guilty, because all the other bloggers have given their commentary on Christmas and I didn't really say a word.

That's because there wasn't much to say.

Christmas used to be a lot more fun when I didn't have to do so much work. But this year, I threw in the proverbial towel. Only a tree in the living room and some garland on the balconey upstairs. Didn't overspend on the kids. Got everything I wanted and here's what I got:

Gift card to Ulta
Gift card to Cache
Some decorative plates for our kitchen wall
an ipod Nano (in PINK!)
Issey Miyake perfume
and some really, REALLY, cool snow boots (lace up black suede with pom poms at that!!)

We ate leftovers from the family gatherings collected on Saturday and Sunday, and never even changed out of our pajamas.

It was a great day.

Still no word :o(

Well, there's still no word on the stupid photo contest :o( They were supposed to announce winners Monday, but I have a feeling it won't be until Friday.... Even the name of the contest is cheesy: "Unforgettable Faces" LOL

But hey! who doesn't want to have an "unforgettable" face?? Of course, with all the retouching, who could forget what ANY of these pics look like....

I'm swearing off these things for awhile after this one!!!

They have these stupid prediction boards (www.voy.com/189998/) that I watch just to see who everyone is "picking" to win. And it's frustrating, that even though my daughter wins a good bit, she rarely gets predicted. It's like she's invisible sometimes. I know I shouldn't worry about it, but some of these other moms must hire PR teams from New York to set up the kind of publicity their kids get. It's kind of like a popularity contest from high school - there are kids who are popular for some particular reason, and others that well, aren't. I do like to read the boards though, these bitches are something else sometimes - and if you can catch it before the moderator does.... They should call it the MOMs from Hell board LOL

I rarely post (except to sneak in a prediction for MY kid!!!)

I don't mind putting my daughter in these types of photo contests, because if you could pick my kid off the street from her glitz pics, I'd kiss yer butt at high noon and give ya three hours to collect a crowd... (and no, these pics are not the ones that go on Grandma's mantle. )

But it's fun in a weird kind of way, a bit like extending Christmas. And Gizmo knows the drill:

Win photo contest = Shopping trip

p.s. I must be getting old, we took a day trip skiing yesterday, and I can barely MOVE....

(will continue other story tomorrow)

911

When I came around the corner, the skid loader was pitched forward into the ditch.

You haven't lived until you've heard the screams of a human being in mortal agony.

Especially a loved one.

My husband was clinging, convulsing, to the cage of the skid loader screaming - making sounds I have never heard from a human and never wish to hear again... and no actor can make the sound that comes out when the pain, and terror, are real. I don't care how much they try. (I can pretty much watch any horror, war, or science fiction movie quiet peacefully now.)

"My LEG!! OH MY GOD!!! IT'S OFF!!! I DON'T KNOW. PLEASE GOD HELP!!!!"

I didn't know what else to do, I knew there was nothing I could physically do at the scene, so I just ran for help. The next closest house was a mile down the road, and cell phones don't work where we live. No time to think, or feel, just RUN.

I felt like the preview of the six million dollar man running in slow motion. Not knowing what was really happening, not being able to feel, the surreal nature of the moment overcoming me like a bad dream. One leg pumping in front of the other, but going nowhere - as if time began to stand still.

Fortunately, the teenage daughter of our neighbor was out in her golf cart.... All I could do was jump in to the passenger seat and babble incoherently about needing to dial 911. I am quite sure I frightened her to death, as she still acts funny around me to this day. But in the meantime....

You could still hear my husband screaming from where we were.

I still didn't know what, exactly, was happening. But I was about to find out.

February 13

I wanted to go skiing.

But we were building the house ourselves, and we had a lot of work to do. So, under quite a bit of protest, I agreed to go work on the house instead. There was a lot of industrial trash to be removed and we didn't have anyone else to do it, so my husband had talked his father into loaning the skid loader for the day so we could move the trash into the rented giant trash bin -we really wanted to get it done, because those trash bins tend to be expensive to rent and we were trying to cut as many costs as possible. So for a better part of the day we moved trash out of the ditch by our house (sheet rock remnants, pipe remnants, old cardboard boxes etc.) - my husband would hop in and out of the loader so to expedite the process, he buckled the belt BEHIND him instead of buckling and unbuckling each time. Took too much effort and time he said. Get 'r Done ya' know.

So the day passed and we were tired. Dog tired and covered in mud and dirt. My husband asked me to go around back and lock up while he went and quickly put a load of fill dirt in the ditch. Okay, let's go.

As I locked up around back, I heard a terrible screeching noise, kind of like when an engine has metal rubbing together. Not quite machine, not quite human. So I ran around the front of the house - not worried so much, but curious. But nothing could have prepared me for the indelible impression I was about to encounter.

I will never forget what I saw. Ever.

C'mon get Happy :o)

Point. Counter Point.

Upon reading another blog on my way through my regular stops through cyberspace...a popular blogger, www.suburbanturmoil.blogger.com, wrote a response to a reader who suggested that she needed to write about more things that made her happy.

That apparently did not set well with said blogger.

I will admit that her biting wit and snarky attitude about pageants instigated my start into blogland. She has a bit of "I'm so over everything" in her blogs (although I don't think she's really that way at all, her blog is more of a vent than anything.) And poor thing, she's got a sick toddler AND she's pregnant. So you'd think I'd be a bit on her side or really nasty about the fact that she basically let the commentator that suggested she should "get happy" have the third degree. I am neither.

What bothers me is the fact that so many other people are apparently "so over" things and have more appreciation for the snarky than the sparkly (that phrase sucked but it's the best I can do for now.) In other words the consensus of said blogger's reading public is the same as what I tell my husband when I have a raging case of PMS:

"Don't ruin a good bad mood"

On the other hand, negativity breeds more negativity. The news tells us life sucks, there's never really anything good going on in the world. The heartbreaking is more interesting than the heartwarming. And that's sad. I think anyone who doesn't try to see the good in life needs, well, a little re-setting of perspective. Nothing pernicious, but life changing enough to see what's really small stuff and what's really important.

February 13, 1999 was my date. The most horrible day I've ever had.

....to be continued.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!!

I'm baa-aack!!!!

After two weeks of company ordered psychological training and four rotating cases of something akin to the bird flu running through my house - it's time to write again!!!

Before I go to said main subject, ya'll will have to appreciate the hopeless romantic my husband is... Wednesday night, after vomiting violently and wishing I was dead briefly from about 8-midnight, I finally got to sleep...well about 2am my son woke up destroying the upstairs bathroom like a bad scene from the exorcist - so my husband shook me awake and said "well, you're already sick with it so can you go deal with him?? I don't want to get it!"

Love ya, mean it LOL

An-y-who.

It's that time of year in the pageant world - time for one of the most anticipated events of the year!!

Is it the christmas parties the coaches' throw? no
Is it pageant slumber parties? no
Is it Christmas cards from your friends? duh
Is it the biggest Christmas pageant of the year? that is soooo over
Is it the joy of finally getting all the hairspray, makeup, and tanning solution out of everything your 3 year old owns?? No, that's an impossible task anyway...

Ladies and Gentlemen!!!! It's time for the "unforgettable faces" year end online photo contest with the "Duos Doubles" contest!!
Aaahh friends - if you haven't lived through the mad scramble to find 2 and only 2 partners - and everyone wants to pair with the best photos out there - it can get well, messy. Now, there are those moms who are resourceful enough to hire hackers to find the email addys of the kids with the best pictures. And then there are those who email the directors to ask if they know if so-and-so might like to pair. Bless the brave souls who post to the voyager boards to ask for pairings and pick up lord knows what kind of spamming.

And finally, my personal favorites. The moms who don't email anyone or try to get good partners, that commence to then sit around and bitch online about how the "regulars" will always pair up and nobody wanted to pair with them and oh the same old people win... and somebody made a deal not to get paid so they could win, and so-and-so must be related...blah,blah,blah,blah, blah, infinity

Let the "wild rumpus" begin (name that book!) oh they gnash their gnarly teeth, and they roll their horrible eyes, and they wail their terrible wails....

As they say in the South, "Bless their Hearts"

Of course a $500 purse and boxes full of gifts for the winners can make even the nicest moms go greedy ;o)

In 7 days half the pageant world will be glued to a computer screen in every corner of the US (and possibly few Canadians too...) waiting for the results as to who the "best of the best" are in photo contest competition for the year...

Now for folks who don't quite have what this is about let me explain.

In pageantry, there is another world of competition called the "online photo contest." This is where you can take the photos you paid what no normal human being would pay for a photo that doesn't even really look like your kid and win STUFF - money, prizes, gifts, PR.... You can't discount the PR needed in pageantry. It's like Hollywood - any publicity is good publicity. And this is a critical aspect. So if your kid can get great pics from the best photographers, and build their name....well...it doesn't hurt. I can't put my finger on it, but somehow, when kids start either winning photo contests, or bashed on a bash board, they mysteriously start winning everything.... hmmmm.

Along with this competition (as with National Pageants) are the prediction boards - every mom wants to see their kid "predicted" to win - although I think most predictions are from the moms, grandmas, and those forced at gunpoint to name certain kids as the front runners. I don't think race horses get this much speculation or promotion... I think it would be very enterprising of me to be the first pageant "bookie" (but then I remember I have a soul AND a concience, darn it!!) And it can turn vicious if you aren't careful. One wrong move and you can become the victim of a vicious witchhunt!!! And these girls name names LOL I'd rather take a bitch slap up side the head ANY day... But it's all part of the game.

Oh and what's that? Well of COURSE we play, duh-huh! After all, I AM "Pageant Mom."

%#@@ **$(!& I #,(* HATE ^@#(!! TECHNOLOGY

I bought an HP3310 all in one printer last May. Of course, my son needs his paper printed for his writing class (and it's late in the evening.) So the (unladylike expletive) of a (piece of another unladylike expletive) thing keeps giving me (more expletives) funky error messages after I replaced the cartridges! The whole selling point of the (more expletives) item is you can replace one cartridge at a time! Well, you replace one, and it starts spitting up about the others. So I replaced them, followed all the instructions etc. still giving me (yet more expletives) the error.

MUST CONTROL FIST OF DEATH...

Called Best Buy - you gotta bring the (expletive expletive expletive) thing in. I tell the monotone guy on the customer not so service line DO NOT pa-tron-ize me I'm in IT you expletive idiot - so he says, well, I'll patch you to the geek squad. Yeah whatever, give me a geek... as long as he's not from expletive India (pause for clause: I have nothing against India, but when I am pissed I am NOT in the mood for the QUEEN's ENGLISH!!!!!!!) Expletive MORONS. Just tell me what the error is. So he said he'd get back in a moment... and he HUNG UP on me!!!! Expletive, break telephone, kick babies, eat nails...expletive piece of expletive printer.... He did NOT get back with me - he expletive HUNG UP!!!!! It's enough to make you want to claw your own eyes out and break the closest china (and it's probably something STUPID I'm just too angry and sleepy to deal with it!!!) ARRRRGHHHH!!!!
ARRRGHHH!!! ARRGGHHH!!! Just give me a freakin answer to my expletive expletive question!!!! Is that too much to ask??? (yes I went to the website, and yes, I followed the instructions, and yes I got Olli and his brother Krishna and his other brother Krishna to try to help me....)

If I didn't have $500 in the whole thing (including accessories and service plan) I'd push it out the expletive window!!!!!

>o(

p.s. For some reason they are sending me to "how to get along better with others class next week...." so I can be sanitized and politicized appropriately.... dunno why....

Can Money Buy you Love?

Okay, now I'm over posting, but I have to write this down before I forget it.

Last night we went as a family to the movies - we saw "The Santa Clause 3 - The Escape Clause" - btw very cute, but very cheesy - I liked it better than the others really though... Anyway, we went to the 9:00 showing, so we didn't get out until like 11:00!! Well, right across from the Cinemas is one of those shopping centers with stores like Old Navy, Bed Bath Beyond, etc.
Definitely the Heart of Middle Class Suburbia...

As we passed through the parking lot, there, in the middle of the deserted Old Navy lot was a guy parked, in an actual, for real, abso-pos-lu-tive-ly stunning, silver colored Lamborgini Gallardo!!!! No SHIT!!!

Not that the car parked in the center of the Old Navy lot at 11:00 on a Saturday night wasn't weird enough by itself, but the guy had both doors wide open cleaning the inside of the passenger side door.

He had a vanity plate that just said "Chad."

Now Gizmo was out cold, but this was just more than the rest of us could resist. So we started up surmizing why "Chad" was out cleaning the windows of a 6 figure valued car in the middle of a middle class area shopping mall almost in the middle of the night.

Husband: "I was really impressed until the 'Chad' plate. Must be some self absorbed dick who lives at home with his mother using it to pick up chicks."

Wife (uh, i.e. Me): " Maybe he was so into himself his date spit on the window before he shoved her out the door so now he has to clean it to go out" or "Maybe he's a serial killer or a pimp..."

12 year old son: "Uh DU-UH!!! Who needs a GIRL when you have a car like THAT???"

Altogether now sing!
"..Can't buy me lu-uve, lu-uve, no no, no, no no!"

My C-section story

I am posting this at the request of another blogger MadMomma. I also need to apologize for sending this late, it's been a crazy week!!!

****

It's interesting when you get a group of parents together and they start recounting the stories of childbirth. And although we pride ourselves on medical progress and improvements in civilization, childbirth is still less of, but nonetheless, a risky event for both mother and child. I mean think about it fundamentally...it's just not an obviously easy task based on the laws of time and physics... But anyway.

With my first child, I was 28 years old, and I taught aerobics 3-4 times a week. Oddly enough I ended up gaining like, 50 pounds, but overall it was fairly uneventful process except for having morning sickness - morning, noon, and night - and at the drop of any weird smell!!! I was due on July 21st, but woke up the wee morning hours of July 1st with an odd back pain. Now, I had taken the childbirth classes (I was a horrible student - I actually ran out and threw up after the childbirth video) and when I asked my husband if he wanted to be in the delivery room with me and he said "NO" I was actually kind of okay with it, because I didn't want to be in there either. And never mind that my in-laws insisted on showing me my sister-in-laws childbirth video (which had taken place just 3 months earlier) where her epidural didn't take and she was screaming in mortal pain the entire time.... oh no, that shouldn't bother me a bit! Anyway I digress..... THAT morning on July 1st something was just, well, different. So, as any woman in my situation would do, I called the doctor and asked. They were singularly non-chalant about the whole thing "Well, we'll see you if you really think it's necessary..." Wow! I'd love for people to pay me for my expertise just so I could be annoyed with them.... Anyway, it wasn't really anything earth shattering so I just puttered around the house, took a shower, etc. But I just couldn't get comfortable. Well, since the slight pain started around 1am I decided by 7am that I needed to go in whether they liked it or not.

So my husband drove me in, and since I was supposedly 3 weeks early, the doctor's office was in NO hurry to see me! After waiting in the office for an hour, they dully admitted me back to pee in a cup and see if there was a problem with my kidney, since that was in the area of the source of the pain. After ANOTHER half an hour, they gave me the results and were going to send me home, when the doctor on call said she thought she'd just take a quick look since I was in anyway.

So, I went back, and she said "let me do an internal check" OH BOY GOODY I CAN'T WAIT....

Her eyes got as big as saucers "OMG you're 6 centimeters - GO TO THE HOSPITAL, do not pass GO, do not collect $200, do not get a bag, git GIT GIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!!!" Oh, well, now we know what it takes to get their attention. My husband stopped at every green light and ran every red trying to get me there (I'm really lucky to be here!) Fortunately, when I got to the hospital they had a room ready...epidural? check! 3 pushes? check! by 7:30 I had a ready to go Baby!!!! Only thing was, he came out so fast, my husband started to panick because his head looked like one of those pointy birthday hats, and his face looked like it had been run over and the tracks of the offending vehicle were still left on his face (he still has a few remaining broken blood vessels to this day -very faint but still there.)

My point for the first child is, I still don't think childbirth is an exact science. The doctors are either so desensitized to what they see and hear everyday, or they still don't have a clue... I dunno.

With child #2 things were a LOT different. First, she was a statistical anomoly (you know that 1% caveat on the side of the box? meet your lottery winner!!!) Second, I was 35 and not at an age that I wanted to be having children. Enter major depression. I didn't ask for this baby, I didn't want this baby, I didn't want to have anything to do with any of it. Having a girl? I would be a terrible girl mom! Not to mention I think the doctor's would have rather delivered babys in taxis than deal with my appointments!! How did this happen? Why me? Something is not right. Yet they all patted my on my head. A wonderful pregnancy, a perfect pregnancy... weight gain? perfect! Blood work? perfect! measurements? perfect! Attitude.... well, anyway....

Around 5-6 months I just knew something wasn't right. Two females sharing the same space just wasn't working. I couldn't get the doctors to listen to me until about month 8 when a new doctor (young and out of school) actually CHECKED me and realized that Gizmo was NOT in a good position. She was fanny down with no room to turn - what's known as a "Frank breach" (why they call it this, I don't know maybe some guy named Frank found it...) anyway, the recommendation was that the doctors go in and turn the baby.

Now if any of you don't know what this is, it's a real blast! They take you to the hospital, give you some medicine to loosen up your uterus and then two doctors come in and try to SHOVE the baby into a new position! It's real scientific, one doctor gets at one end and the other takes the remaining end and they don't push they put they're backs into it... and it HURTS LIKE HELL. Now, the logical question is, does anyone go into labor from this? According to the doctors, "no", according to MY biology, "Uh, DUH, why Yes" (dumbasses I'm not THAT naive.) I think sometimes doctors think you're stupid because they're doctors and you should just turn your body over to them with out question. Hell, I happen to live here and NO you don't get to do whatever you want!!! (I have personal story after story where I just don't think they get it that their opinion can be wrong sometimes...) Anyway, guess what? Princess didn't just NOT turn she stuck her feet straight up and FOUGHT IT!!! And I got to enjoy 2 hours of monitored false labor. Lucky me.

Two weeks later the decision was made not to even attempt a vaginal birth, because the position of the baby plus her size might kill one or both of us. When they tell you that, with confidence, you don't even argue about doing a C section. All that matters is that you both come out safe and healthy. Now, granted, the last thing I wanted, but if you think about it, millions of children come out okay without having a so-called "perfect birth." I had one friend who planned a "perfect home birth" - she only met with a doula (midwife) and never saw a doctor at all - she wanted only to give birth in a peaceful state of tranquility and absolutely NO drugs - her opinion was if she did ANYTHING otherwise, her child would end up in therapy and probably a serial killer. Well, the baby didn't get in the correct position, and then she was in severe labor and realized that maybe she wasn't that tough. Well, to make a long story short, miss "I'm going to do everything natural" ended up not only getting medicated, didn't have a vaginal birth, and had to have an emergency C section - it's funny how things clear up when you start staring your's and your baby's health square in the face.

Needless to say, my child, my friend's child, and their mothers are healthy, happy, and suffer no ill effects from having C sections. It was never a question when it came down to safety and health. And I'll have to say, C section babies do come out much prettier LOL But I also think you have to watch the doctors and make sure they are taking the right steps for your situation. Your health is YOUR responsibility and sometimes you have to question and take control. If you don't agree with a doctor or have a shred of doubt, seek second, third, fourth, opinions, until YOU are confident the right decision is being made. It's your body, not theirs, or anyone elses!

I will have to mention though, that when I went into labor it was at my son's ballgame - and my husband had the nerve to ask me to hang on until they finished the last inning... well, by the time I got to the hospital I was howling like a caged puppy!!! And to make matters worse, by the time they got me into rush surgery, they apparently didn't realize the cabinets lining the operating room were so clean and shiny, they functioned as "mirrors" - so I happened to look over about the time they were pulling Gizmo out....

...there are just some things you do NOT need to see.

Okay, I'll take any compliment I can get

I got the best backhanded compliment today.

Mr. Business #1 is known, globally, in our company as being the absolute worst human being to work with on the planet. Literally. I think he's been banned in at least three countries!! He gets frustrated if you can't read his mind, treats EVERYONE as if they were a class A moron, and thinks talking louder increases comprehension. He also does not get it that we only have 1.2 people on my team to do the work of 5 people. (I refuse to use the word "resources" - it's so de-humanizing) And this frustrates the absolute HELL out of him (never mind HE's the one who agreed to the cut budget!!) In general, if he calls I NEVER pick up the phone - I wait for an IM or I'll pick up a voicemail a few minutes later. I have instructed my team (of all men LOL) to do the same. You have to prepare as if for the SAT just to take a phone call!!!

Now never mind he NEVER picks up his phone, and doesn't read ANY of the emails we send to him with important information. We're idiots that should be treated with the disrespect we deserve. This is the same guy who writes programming requirements and expects us to code "including but not limited too the following items." Obviously he has a lot of faith in our team's capabilities to code deductive reasoning. We're completely flattered, but we just have to bring him back to reality - constantly.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely understand and take the business needs very seriously; but it's really difficult to keep a straight face or attitude with this type of behaviour to deal with!! Well, today he was particularly frustrated, since my main support guy is out on jury duty, and Mr. Business #1 couldn't IMMEDIATELY get him on the phone for an "emergency." Per his voicemail to me:

"I CAN'T GET ANYBODY TO ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE - I'M NOT GOING TO CALL ANYONE ON YOUR TEAM BECAUSE THEY WON'T DO A DAMN THING UNTIL YOU SAY IT'S OKAY. YOU RULE THOSE GUYS WITH AN IRON FIST but I... have business needs...."

I love my team ;o) I'm not going to let anybody shove my guys around. They work hard in a tough environment, and as long as they are pulling their weight, I'm going to keep them focused and un-disturbed! They're hard to get and they're hard to keep!

Of course, using me and Iron Fist conceptually in the same sentence is pretty amusing (I am an ex-beauty queen of all things and Blonde!!! LOLOLOL!)

Poor thing. Never mind the reason I do this is because if I don't he will harrass, harangue, cajole, pester, lecture, weedle, push, shove, and insult my guys until he thinks he can effectively badger them into being able to do the work of 10 people simultaneously. Our priorities are set on Monday's and if I let him have his way we'd never finish one freakin' thing..... To let him loose on my guys, on Monday morning after he's pushed them all to try to get his every whim and what for adhered to he conveniently gets amnesia in our weekly meeting and says "IT is a failure, what the HELL have you guys been doing all week?"

I burn more calories just shaking my head in this job....

ahhh Out of the mouth of babes...

Gizmo spent a better part of the afternoon of Thanksgiving running around her Graam & Papa's property - fishing in the pond, riding the golf cart, and just plain ol' running around. Since the menfolk were outside with the kids, I didn't see much of what was going on because I was gratefully catching a nap inside... but I went by my sister in law's today and her husband related to me a little story.

Now you have to keep in mind, Gizmo is a very sweet child, but has some well, "delivery" problems with comments that she makes (keep in mind she's only 4)...

Apparently, Gizmo was sitting next to her uncle on the golfcart, and she likes to snuggle, so he let her nestle up on his shoulder since it was a bit chilly out. As she was doing so, she began to gently rub his forearm, as if she was "enjoying" petting the hair on his arm. He said she looked up at him, ever so sweetly and said "Uncle J", as she abruptly stopped patting his arm, "you have a lot of hair on your arm!" "Why yes I do" said Uncle J, as his arms are, well, extremely hairy (to say the least.) He said she then looked at him with an expression of utmost earnesty and said:

"You really need to shave. That's a real problem you've got there. "

Ooooh-kaaaay.... Seems like we probably ought to put "learn using tact" on the list of to-dos this week...

tired i am so geez.... margaritas three... not much after that....

Okay, well Ms.Brilliant here again. I'm so tired I could sleep on the driveway with the neighbor's dogs for pillows. Today, I decided to find out what all the hoopla was about "Black Friday".

Well, I figured it out. Half the people go out to find the 1/1,000,000 deal. The others just go to watch and buy crap they didn't intend to. Not sure which category I fit into, might be obvious to you guys in internetland.

I didn't even start out right - I just couldnotgetout of bed at 4:30. I don't even think a piledriver coming through the window would have worked either. So I was late. LA DE DA. So I thought. I left the house at 5:25am feeling pretty smug that all my neighbor's dark houses were the result of massively poor planning on their part and that I was the smarty pants of Wereallinthewitnessprotectionprogram Boulevard. Yeah right - rookie!!! No traffic on the way out to Target. 'This is going to be a big piece of cake' I thought. Miles 1-3 - no traffic. Miles 4-8 - even less traffic. Miles 8-finish line..... round the corner....

OMG!!!!!!! Now, it's pretty shocking for somebody as smart as me to get smacked in the head with a "oh no you're NOT so smart" moment (I seem to have a lot of these lately...) and I then realized that the reason all the houses in my neighborhood were dark was because THEY WERE ALREADY THERE!!!!!!! Why didn't they call me? Were there alarms? How could they leeeavve me behind!!!!!! Why didn't the stupid dogs bark and alert me that everyone was exiting the area??? Lord help us if there's ever a tornado!!!!

I'm guessing there were over 1000 people at Target. It was a wee bit surreal seeing absolutely NO signs of life, for a 10mile radius, then come up on the mob scene at Target. In the dark. Half asleep. A startling leap into lucidity for that time of the morning (at my age, I'm not even sure it's safe for that kind of jolt.)

But Hey! I'm no wimp... so I parked my car in the overflow lot, and armed with a thermos full of Amp and a bag full of donuts I merged in with the crowd and forged into the swarm, not really knowing what to expect...

It looked like the end of days. Shelves, empty, except for the few crumbs of packaging remnants and a stray dvd or two. People lined up arguing for a raincheck any raincheck, desperation showing on their faces for the last of the "gonnacatchonfireimsurebrand" DVD players, videocameras and batteries. I missed getting the last of the imaho dolls on sale for 4.99 (Gizmo will be crushed and in therapy for years I'm sure) and my son I'm sure will suffer back pain until the end of days since I lost the wrestling match for the last of the $33 videogame chairs. (But I did get an offhand offer to play for the local roller dearby team) Blank stares on faces of zombies pushing red carts to nowhere, clinging to a large starbucks and a stack of empty ad promises.... OH GOD I KNOW WHAT ARMEGEDDON LOOKS LIKE NOW!!!!

I grabbed the last of the half priced dirt devils and ran, with what little of my dignity I could gather up (not too much left at that after my ob appt last week), and on the way out managed to grab just a few things... only 42 dvds, 14 pairs of fluffy socks, 3 christmas shirts,4 mystery kitchen appliances, 8 blankets, an assortment of chapstick, 2 off brand digital cameras, some towels I think I can sell on e-bay, a Hello Kitty comforter, some clearance items I think I'm still going to have to ask around as to what they actually are, and a large latte extra milk, no whipped cream thank you very much I am in a hurry to get out I am so not into this. Really.

Now I have to figure out how to fit the gifts to the recipients, I ain't goin' back. No sir, it's not safe in thar. I did my time.

(I made my husband take me out for Mexican tonight and I got THREE margaritas. I earned 'em)

An ode to my readers

Now, being fairly new to blogging, I just want to say how excited I get when a new reader posts ANYTHING to my little posts on this and that....
So in honor of the few, very brave, marvelous bloggers that have visited my site, I would like to sing you a little song. Now, given that this is just text, you'll have to work with me... (warming up! lalala laaaaaaaa......) Are my backup dancers ready? CHECK!

ahh hemm!!!! Here goes!

"Addicted to BLOGS"

You're lights are on, and you're at home
You're mind, is not your own
Your hands sweat, your keyboard shakes
Another thought, is what it takes

You can't sleep, you can't eat
There's no doubt, you're in deep
You sit and wait, you can't abate
Another read, is what you need

Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough you know you're gonna have to face it you're addicted to blogs

You see the notes, you don't dare blink
Another quip, is what you think
Your heart beats in double time
One more response, and you'll be fine, a one track mind

You can't be saved
More readers on, is all you crave
Anticipate, what they will think
If you are witty, or if you drink....

Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah, oh LOL, oh ROTFLMAO,
oh JMHO, oh KEWL, ...... (oops got a little carried away)

It's closer to the truth you know you're gonna have to face it you're addicted to BLOGS

Might as well face it you're addicted to blogs
Might as well face it you're addicted to blogs
Might as well face it you're addicted to blogs
Might as well face it you're addicted to blogs
Might as well face it you're addicted to blogs

ALL TOGETHER NOW Air Guitar Solo!!!! (pardon me a minute)

You're at your desk, or a cafe'
Your attention, is all asway
You're almost blind from all you view
There's so much stuff, beyond the news!

It was just supposed to be for friends and close fam-i-ly, Oh yeah you're gonna have to face it you're addicted to blogs.

(Sing with me now!! )

Might as well face it, youre addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, youre addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, youre addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, youre addicted to blogs
Might as well face it, youre addicted to blogs


..****APPLAUSE****....

Thanka, thanka vera much

pageantmom has left the building....

SAY WHAT!!!????

Lucky me. Somehow I managed to the get two most world-famous difficult business departments to please in the entire corporation. It's like playing wack-a-mole every day. I get one side settled, the other starts up.

Now, admittedly, I have the honor of supporting our national sales force IT applications. And although the product we sell is something EVERYONE in the US MUST have, it is not necessarily an "impulse" purchase. These guys are, at the least, formidable opponents who think they have to "hit back first" with IT and degrade, flog, insult, nag, and pester in order to motivate our team to work 150 times harder than they normally have to (nevermind THEY cut our IT budget by 60% this year and RAN OFF two of my best developers!!!) Anyway, I digress.

Now, my team struggles daily to maintain our professionalism in the throes of a large beaureaucratic (did I spell that right?) environment and deal with these Divas from Hell so each day is a challenge... and I, as the team leader proabably struggle the most since I have to deal with these dodos directly every day. Thought "hmmm, phone is ringing - let's see, would I rather answer it or chew off my own foot?...............pause........ well, I AM hungry......" Anyway.

I have a new short term programmer working for me until dec 31. He's a guy that is NOT a people person, and has nothing to lose and his skills are hard to find on the market(he KNOWS we need him.) Hey, what am I gonna do? fire him? I'm under tremendous pressure to have several projects done by Dec 31 and it takes a special person to withstand our environment.

So. I made the choice move of inviting him to a meeting with the business for which, admittedly, I was not well prepared.

Well, Ms. Business side #2 just lit into us as normal and of course, we do our usual round up back to the facts, just the facts, ma'am (this WORKS, trust me) and then she started in on the "new guy." If you don't have answers she likes immediately, things tend to get ugly.

He looked at her after a couple minutes, and leaned across the table and said:

"MA'AM! I don't like the way you are talking to me. Nor do I appreciate you treating me like an idiot, and frankly, I think you need to watch YOUR ATTITUDE LADY >o" Then he said, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, and you just need to come down off your high horse because I am NOT going to deal with you!"

I didn't know whether to smack him or kiss him.

She LEANED across the table and said "WHAT???!!!!"

Then she looked at me and said "You need to DO SOMETHING!!! Deal with your employee!!!!"

I was powerless to do anything because I didn't know whether to laugh or cry LOLOLOL
I was like the proverbial dear in the headlights!!

Well, needless to say, it got kind of blurry from there as I did my usual re-direction and deflection (I am the politician of the group) and when the moment came where I could release "Mr. Personality" to go finish something else, and was feeling really bad about the whole thing...after he walked out of the room she looked at me and the other participants and said:

"DOESN'T HE KNOW I'M A BITCH????"

Well, I guess he does now. And then, I didn't feel so bad. As a matter of fact, I felt pretty good...

Ahhhhh, The joys of corporate life.

Of course, Mr Doctor, I AM "bitchy" today!!!

Today I got to participate in my favorite yearly event.

Oh the beloved annual visit to the ob-gyn.

Just the mere idea of having to go sends my blood pressure up at LEAST 30 points.

Notably, my doctor erroneously asked me why I was so grouchy for all my annual visits - after all, "what had he done to deserve such a bad attitude from me all these years?"

I apologized and asked him not to take it personally. And after a brief moment of pensive thought I responded:

"Never mind, the minute I walk in, your perniciously perky receptionist starts in on what a nice day it is and her gratuitous, yet contrived efforts to be overly pleasant start off raking on my already edgy demeanor. The next series of questions, that after 12 years of NO changes, I still must answer. Next, I have to wait for 30 minutes in a waiting room full of annoyed and bored husbands and boyfriends - all of which now KNOW what I'm going to have to do... Once my name is called in a depersonalized fashion 'MSSSSUSS. SMMMMITH!' (no real name used here of course) you force me to attempt a skilled exercise for which I am not physically designed to do properly - the whole pee in a thimble mess. After the initial denuding of my dignity, I am STABBED in the finger, made to stand on the ENEMY known as the "scales" and if THAT isn't enough, you stick me in a refrigerated room with nothing but a tissue to cover up with and only "Oprah" magazines to read for God knows how long.... THEN you come in here and SMASH what's left of the bags formerly known as breasts after nursing two wonderful children, and if that wasn't enough....,

YOU SCRAPE MY VAGINA WITH A TOOTHPICK!!!!!

....and have the nerve to ASK ME WHY I AM IN A BAD MOOD????"

Awkward Silence.

Needless to say, I got an extra bag of samples today >o)

The "Is it just me??" Moment of the Week!!! (communication is everything!)

I was in Subway (sandwich shop) the other day; I'm thankful for this Subway because it is within walking distance of work and a blessed redemption from our company canteen...but I digress...

There was a very sweet and timid young lady passing out forms in the back of the restaurant - every time a patron would pass by, she would offer up the form and each time she would smile and before she could even explain her action, she would be met with brusque rejection. Each time a glimmer of frustration would pass over her expression and she would just plop back down in her chair; but she recovered resiliently with each occurrence of failure to get the customer to take the form.

Now, being the observer I am, I watched this for awhile. I also surveyed the premises for some sort of explanation of this situation.


BINGO.


After chatting briefly with her about her intended mission, I accepted one of her survey forms.


I then pointed out to her the very LARGE "Help Wanted Immediately" sign posted on neon yellow posterboard in the front window.

;o)

Whaddaya say?

When I went to pick up Gizmo from Grandma's after work today she announced:

"Mrs. E... told me to SHUT UP today"

Now, Mrs. E is the most kindly, patient, loving, grandmotherly K4 teacher you could ever imagine to teach preschool.

I found this to be COMPLETELY out of character.

Now, knowing Gizmo as well as I do, I imagine Mrs. E didn't start out with that comment... so here is my surmised "re-enactment":

Mrs. E : "Gizmo, please stop talking - it's not your turn yet"

Gizmo : "Mrs. E...."

Mrs. E : "Please Gizmo, you must wait and give others a chance to participate"

Gizmo : "I have my stuffed up animal CAT my grandma gave me with me today - wanna see?"

Mrs. E : "Gizmo, it will be your turn to share soon..."

Gizmo :
"WHATEVER. Now as I was saying... blah blah blah, Anna wants to see...blah blah blah.... and...blah blah blah....and..... my mommy said....and.... I had my HAND up.... and we could name the new fishy.... I got a smores maker this weekend....blah blah...and....Carly broke her arm... and......"

Mrs. E : Now has look of frustration and disdain

"Please Gizmo! We MUST BE QUIET!!!! "

Gizmo : "okay Mrs. E" "Hey! Ms. N" (Classroom teacher's assistant) "when is snack time?"

"I really like the new goldfish, and if you can't HEAR me I can SPEAK LOUDER.... as a matter of fact we can sing to the fish, I know a really good song I learned this weekend..... do you know 'Tomorrow' I learned it when I went to see 'Annie' and she didn't have a fish or ANYTHING... we are so lucky aren't we ...... can I go see... blah blah blah ...." etc & so on

Mrs. N : "Gizmo, SHHHHUSH!!!!"

Entire class : Heads tilted. Blank stares. 'Hey! We could sing to the fish...'

Mrs E. : 'Who gave her SUGAR cereal this morning????'

Gizmo, unfazed

"What?" "I can't hear you Mrs. N!!!"

"Mrs. E... What DID she SAY????" "

"I can't hear her, but it sounds like she wants EVERYONE to be quiet!!!!"

"I can tell them to shhhh if you want me too......"

moment of silence

"Wow, everyone got quiet.... don't we all play the quiet game good? Don't we? Don't we Mrs E.?"

Mrs. E, reaching point of frustration and exasperation:

"Gizmo - please - just please - SHUT UP!!! "


.....


Well...... All's well, ends well...

(at least I'm assuming so, since there was no NOTE from poor Mrs. E !!!)

Needless to say, we're going to have to work on this ;o) And possibly, no more Fruit Loops for YOU young lady.....

The "Is it just me?" Moment of the week!!!

I work for a large International Corporation and of course beauracracy and political correctness are MANDATORY... so after much gratuitous back patting by our corporation about how DIVERSE we are...

We've had "celebrate black history week", we've had "international week", we've had "hispanic week", etc etc etc AD NAUSEUM... We've celebrated the working woman, we've talked about how much we support minority businesses and how our workforce will be made up of mostly WOMEN and MINORITIES in a few years....

SO

I've noticed at the bottom of each much publicized and promoted article on our Intranet....

Are the promanently placed pictures of the NINE MIDDLE AGED WHITE MEN that run the company.

In search of the perfect country song...

You know I was listening to the country music station and it struck me what's really wrong with country music these days.

It's too fast to drink to.

Let's take ol' Merle for instance. You'd think there was a problem with your pitch control on the CD player after listening to today's souped up psuedo-pop manic-depressive attacks on yer auditory systematics when you put his stuff in... Might even start waxing sentimental for yer 8-track player too... but I digress.

I think we're too politically correct about things too. Can't drink, Can't smoke, can't shoot yer cheatin lover -well what the hell CAN you do?? Well, as far as I can tell you can still cry and you can do aerobics.

Makes me want to run for president - my campaign slogan "Cigarettes, Donuts, and Beer for all"

Vote for me
I have no clue
that makes the perfect candidate for YOU!!!

...here, have another cigar & a red bull...

Anyway, here's my new idea for a drinking song ya'll out in internet land can tell me whatcha think:

"So hold me up
Fill my cup
And call me a taxi dear

'cause I've had
8 shots of tequilaaaaaa
and a
6 pack of beer "

Catchy huh? I think ol' Merle woulda been proud.

copyright 2006 sumthinkdiffrent inc.

Just a deranged lunatic!!

Well well well, if the media hasn't once again reveled in trying to make pageant moms look like a bunch of deranged lunatics... My husband and son like to watch "Bones" - a pretty formulaic crime show currently on prime time; and tonight's episode involved the death of a pageant contestant...As the main characters study the body they were horrified that a child had on makeup, and tooth veneers etc. "What sick pervert would give his victim a makeover before killing her..." stated one of the characters. Turns out the child was killed at a pageant (accidentally it appears but then an attempted cover up by a competitor also a child) thus explaining the "makeover." I didn't watch the show thoroughly (no attention span for tv) but in the intermittent parts I watched...I'd like to share some observations.

- Pageants are much less and much worse than portrayed on tv
- It's a common theme among detractors that pageant mom's have somehow "robbed" their children of a childhood
- We're all sick f**ks that should be carted out and shot

I don't think any self-respecting dentist would put veneers on a child as represented on the show (maybe in Hollywood but I don't want to apply any assumptions back.) Normally, the girls wear "flippers" - a cosmetic dental appliance that goes over the natural teeth for a more complete smile which is only worn for very brief periods. Probably started out just to give girls with missing or small teeth an even advantage, and of course went haywire from there.

I'm also trying to figure out what I've robbed my child of that is so necessary for "childhood." Is the fact that she's worn fake eyelashes by the age of 5 made her somehow jaded and world weary? I thought that was reserved for abused children and victims of war. Of course in the eyes of some folks, pageants are child abuse... In the show tonight, one of the characters sadly acknowledged that "childhood was full of swings..."and something else along those lines which I can't remember but the jist of it was "oh the poor kid" as if she was a prostitute or something... Another blogger I came across attended a pageant and all but called the babies "whores" from what she saw... now how does someone get off calling a little girl a "whore" or a similar reference because she wears makeup in what's basically "competition dress up." A completely misguided and irresponsible reaction - but she was entitled to her opinion and I'm okay with that just not the reference. She could have stated that she just didn't like it. I could have called her a "bitch", and that would have been an opinion, but I'm not like that and I didn't think of her that way - I simply assumed she just didn't know any better and she was drumming up interesting reading for her blog. I've noticed when you put a little sanity on pageants, nobody is interested in talking about them anymore. Anyway! The biggest problem I've seen so far is that pageantry has given my lil Gizmo a little TOO much confidence. I'll talk about why I call her Gizmo in another blog, but it relates to sugar, red dye and a parallel to the movie "Gremlins."

What I do see my daughter has that a lot of other kids her age (she's 4) don't:

1) she can sit still when necessary - this is not only an important skill for having hair and makeup done, but is useful in polite restaurants, church, public transportation and school
This is often a point that horrifies pageant detractors - how DARE we make them sit still for 15 min to get h/m done - shouldn't they be running around? hmmm lemmee think about the other 23 hours and 45 minutes remaining in the day - Gosh, what on earth am I thinking??

2) she can follow directions - useful not only for stage routines, but direction in school functions, learning other new skills, and perhaps listening to mom before running out in the street

3) she has the concept of "practice" - that if you work to be good at something you can get results - now don't start in on me before considering tee ball, suzuki violin students, and dance schools etc. and hey! I'll bet Tiger Woods is sooooo mad at his father for teaching him to practice golf starting at the age of 18 months; yes, I'm sure he just HATEs his dad for that ;o)

4) she has FUN - nothing more, nothing less. If she doesn't learn a damn thing from pageants, she has great memories of pajama parties in the hotel rooms, swimming with her friends, eating out at lots of restaurants, and the excitement of "SHOW TIME" getting all dolled up in her fancy outfits etc.

5) Her experiences have made her very articulate verbally. So much so, that because she is tall for her age, and she speaks so well, most folks think she is 6 instead of 4.

I think it's also funny that pageant detractors often use the argument that pageants are about "competition" and that somehow competition is "bad." I think competition is bad based on how it is dealt with. Threatening to kill and dismember your competition is BAD. Focusing on improving your game to try and win over your competition is GOOD. (just to set relative perspective.) And if you don't think some kids come out of the womb wanting to compete, have you ever watched a group of pre-schoolers fight over who gets to be the "line leader" just to go to lunch??? I also think competion is bad if you place the child's worth up to their ability to win. You can't do that when there are factors outside of your control (judges opinions.) What's frustrating is when they don't live up to their potential. For example, my son brought home a "B" in Science from school - I CHEWED HIM OUT. Not because he made a "B" though. Had he struggled and fought for that "B" I would have been so proud I would burst. But here's what he got to make up the "B" : Quiz average 99.8, Tests average 93.8, Homework 53.7????????? WTF???? He just didn't do it in some cases. He forgot. Whatever. The fact is it ALL counts and he just didn't make any effort. So I didn't get mad because he made a "B" I got upset because he THREW AWAY an "A." And the same thing applies to pageants. If my daughter does her best and doesn't place - whatever, the judges weren't in to her and she'll learn that sometimes even your best won't do - that's LIFE. (I work for a large International company, and there are some really great folks that get overlooked for promotion compared to some world class butt-kissers.) But if she just doesn't try, then I will be disappointed - IF pageants continue to be her thing.

I don't care if there are folks that want to jump to conclusions and judge me as just another deranged lunatic, I just call it like I see it.

Another tale from the dark side....