I feel so betrayed!

If you know me at all, you know that there are two experiences that I absolutely adore: eating a veggie burrito at Chipotle and going to Target. The latter is the topic about which I will be ranting tonight.

Last night, Daughter #1 and I stopped at Target to gather supplies for her birthday party*. Of COURSE, we have to go to Target. Actually, it was Super Target... which is oh so much better!

She wanted me to make a cake rather than get one from a bakery, so we had to get all the necessary ingredients for that. Additionally, we needed some decorating stuff... you know. The whole shebang.

Giddily, we ran around the ginormous store, gathering everything on our list. Oh, and we stuck to our list. Yes, we did. Except for the Zippo Mini Multi-Purpose Lighter. It wasn't on our list. But I needed it. That's how it is when you go to Target. You find things you didn't even know that you need.

All in all, we were probably there for about 15 minutes. We were on a mission, and it was getting late anyway. We hit the checkout lanes.

Now, there are 35 checkout lanes at this store (if you count all the express lanes). Of course, at 9:15pm, only 4 of them are actually open. 2 on the very west end, and 2 on the very east end. We parked on the east end, so that was the logical choice. The first lane I spied looked awfully busy: three shoppers deep with some pretty full carts. The next lane, only two shoppers deep... not so bad. So I opted for the second lane.

Have I ever mentioned that I own the record for number of times choosing the wrong lane/line for just about EVERYTHING?!?

Not only is this checker slow, but she's chatty. And apparently not too bright. Shopper #1 finally moves on, and it's now Shopper #2's turn. She needs a rain check for Five Star notebooks, because her fabulous offspring must have at least 10 of them. And they're on sale. And there aren't any left on the shelves. So, Missy the Wonder Checker calls for help. And. Stands. There. And. Waits.

No, really. She just stood there. She didn't scan Shopper #2's other items. Not a one of them. She just stood there and waited for the Magic Target God in The Sky to return her call. By now, I'm already extremely impatient. We've been in line for 10 minutes. The line next to me is moving along quickly... the guy that I would have been behind is long gone. Unfortunately, all my crap is already on Missy's conveyor belt. I turn my back to her, roll my eyes at Daughter #1, and loudly say, "For the love of God, please start scanning something." Missy doesn't get the hint.

Another shopper eyes the lane next to us, notices it's longer, and starts to get in our line. I tell her, "You don't want to get in this lane. Seriously. We've been here for over 15 minutes now. Run to the next lane."

Finally, after the Magic Target God in The Sky returns Missy's call, she gets all the information she needs for the ever-important Five Star rain check. She finally starts scanning, and proceeds to comment on each and every item. Shopper #2 and her fabulous offspring, sans Five Stars, but carrying a pretty nifty rain check, leave the store.

YAY! It's our turn now. Missy jovially calls out to us. Clearly, she doesn't notice the look on my face. She scans the ingredients for the chocolate cake and the brownies... grins... and says with a cheeky little voice, "Ahhhh! I know what YOU guys are doing!" At this point, I bite off half my tongue to avoid yelling at her, "STFU and scan my fooking groceries!!!" Daughter #1 is laughing her ass off at me.

THIRTY MINUTES after getting in line to checkout, we finally leave the store. I'm nearly in tears. Missy has officially ruined Target for me**. I'm thinking of having her fired... and then recommending her for a job at Wal-Mart.

*Tonight, she has about 30 of her closest friends over-- and I have retreated to the bedroom. Sunday, family will be here for another party. I don't like birthdays so much anymore.

** I'm sure that won't last forever. I could never NOT shop at Target (ooh, I do love me a double-negative).

Don't mind me... I'm just meandering about....

Don't you hate it when there's something you REALLY, REALLY want to blog about... but you really, really can't?

Gah.

In other news, if I see that freaking Jessica Simpson roller-skating video one more time, I might commit hara-kiri.

When we were kids, we pronounced it "harry caray," which, as you know, is something/one altogether different. We convinced our neighbor kids that commiting 'harry caray' would turn you into some old guy with big glasses who liked to yell "HEY!" a lot*. They were skeered.

Speaking of Harry Caray, have you ever been stuck in O'Hare on a layover that was way too long? Yeah... Harry Caray's restaurant is a lifesaver in that place. You'll probably end up ordering a heart attack on a plate, but everything is mighty tasty.

Hey! Would you eat the moon if it were made of ribs? I would!
Hey! If you could be the top scientist in your field or have Mad Cow Disease, which one would you pick?

That's all I have today, friends. Thanks for following along on Grumpy Frump's Wide, Wide World of Digression.


*No hate mail, please. I loved Harry Caray, even though I'm not from Chicago.

I got busted drinking alone...

... or at least, I THOUGHT I was drinking alone.

Last night, I was under the impression that the Farm Boy had already left to take his kids back home. It's a 3 hour drive, round-trip.

My kids weren't home. I've been stressed. I thought it might be okay to have a drink by myself.

So, I pulled the ingredients out and put them all on the counter: Sprite Zero, Orange Juice, Cranberry Juice (100% juice, not that crappy juice cocktail crap), Grenadine, and Absolut Berry Vodka (Skyy Berry is better, though). My glass was filled with ice.

I poured my ingredients into my glass... grabbed a straw to stir it all up... started to put everything back... but I wasn't quick enough. In walks Step-Daughter, who is 13... almost 14.

Step-Daughter: What are you doing?
Me: Just making something tasty.
Step-Daughter: What's that? [points to grenadine]
Me: Oh, it just adds a little cherry flavor and color to drinks. [I notice that the grenadine bottle is in front of the vodka bottle]
Step-Daughter: Oh, like what they add to make a Shirley Temple. Yeah, I know what that stuff is.
Me: Yeah, that's it. I'm just putting everything away now. I thought you guys had already left?
Step-Daughter: Nope. Not yet. [sees the vodka bottle] OOOOOH! You're making a drink with alcohol! And you were going to sit here and drink alone! You alkie! [runs outside to tell her brother and father]

Great. So now I'm an "alkie." Who drinks alone. In the eyes of an almost-14-year-old step-daughter. Gah. I did make a point of telling her that I probably drink less in a year than most people she knows drink in a day. But yeah... I'm not sure she was buying it.

I feel like the chihuahua...

The Definition of Stress: "The confusion created when one's mind overrides
the body's desire to beat or choke the living shit out of some asshole
who desperately needs it."

... or you can also go here for a graphic depiction.

I'm not good at managing stress. Gee, what a shocker.

As I mentioned in my last post, this is THE busiest time of the year for me in my job. Additionally, it's the part where I have a huge responsibility. I'm not going to get into specifics, because that would be breaking rule #25, also known as the quintessential rule of blogging. I don't want to get dooced.

The point is: I have to learn to relax. I can't delegate responsibilities in this situation, and I have a lot to get done in a short amount of time. Stressing out isn't going to make anything better. Although I do tend to work better under pressure... and the adrenalin rush really gets me moving... it isn't going to help my health or the insanity I bring home with me everyday.

The weekends definitely help. I can sleep in a little and choose to completely break free from everything work-related.

I'm not looking for suggestions... I know what I can do to relieve stress: exercise more, meditate, take deep breaths, walk away from my desk at work every hour or so, get massage, blah, blah, blah. I guess I just wish I knew WHY I am the type of person who gets so stressed. My Farm Boy is so laid-back, even when there are stressors getting at him. I envy him sometimes for that attribute.

My brain tells me, "It's not worth getting all worked up over this. Worrying isn't going to make things any better or accomplish things any sooner. You're just killing yourself over this for no reason." My body doesn't listen though. When I do go in and get a massage... anytime I go to someone new... they are shocked that someone my age can have back and neck muscles so knotted up. Then I have to go through the whole spiel again with them. Gah.

So there it is. I know it will get better, and I'm not depressed or anything. Maybe I should just drink through it. I don't think anyone will think badly of me if I decide to have a little cocktail tonight, right? ;-)

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I went to Chipotle for dinner tonight. That helped a lot... especially since I'll have the leftover half of my burrito for lunch tomorrow. Huzzah!

Site Meter Surprise... no, not really.

Occasionally, I'll check out my Site Meter reports. My favorite is the referrals, of course. I have to tell you... some of the search engine hits I get are pretty strange, but I think that's pretty common. Nabbalicious has some very interesting examples in her sidebar. I used to post some of the hits that brought people to my little bloggy, but I'm too lazy to make it a regular gig.

There is one, however, that has made a regular appearance since December. Every week, there are at least two referrals from a search engine looking for a picture... of a certain tiny, brown, holiday figure from South Park. I'm not going to type his name here, because that would only bring more people to my page. And I'm pretty sure that they are a little peeved when they find out that I don't really have an image of that tiny, brown, holiday figure... just some really screwed up cookies I made that resembled him (although they looked tragic, they were actually very tasty).

Are there that many people on this planet who need to find a picture of the tiny, brown, holiday figure from South Park? I mean, for a week after Ann Curry cut her hair, I had about 25-30 search engine hits about her. That made almost made sense to me... it was 'news.' And if South Park were a new phenomenon, then I wouldn't be surprised about this either. It isn't, though. So this is a puzzlement. Any theories?

Oh, and on a COMPLETELY unrelated note... I am currently in what I consider my busiest, most frantic time of the year at work. Gah. The muscles in and around my shoulders are so hard, you could use them to crush diamonds (yeah, so I'm tired and not so good at analogies right now. Sue me.). If I leave a comment on your site that is mostly gibberish or sounds like I'm drunk... I'm not drunk. I'm just brain-dead and stressed to the max. My apologies in advance. In three weeks, I should be better. I hope.

Do I really want to be a HOT mom? Not really...

The other day I saw a link for an online article titled, "How to Be a Hot Mom." I'm not adding the link, because it pissed me off.

Besides the instant frustration I felt, I wondered if my mom ever read articles in Redbook or Good Housekeeping about how to keep herself looking hot and sexy. I already knew the answer to that. There were the occasional articles about how to keep the 'spice' in her relationship ("buy a sexy nightie that only your husband will get to see," or "when he opens the door after a long day of work, make sure you're standing there wrapped in cellophane," etc.). There were no articles, however, about how to make sure your daughter's boyfriends drool and forget all about your daughter.

I know that our society is always grasping for new and better ways to get us all to be insecure about ourselves. We must look younger and sexier all the time. However, all the "fabulous bods at 40" aren't really all that fabulous, since they're mostly fake. I don't want to look like Demi Moore when I'm in my 40s, because I'm not willing to shell out the samoleans* to get there. Nor do I want my girls to be up to my neck when I'm in my 70s. I just want to look real... you know... I want to look like ME.

Now don't get me wrong... I truly believe in looking good when I walk out the door. It's important to me that I don't embarrass myself in public, of course. But I don't go on shopping quests for clothes that are sexy. I have children. And I don't want to embarrass THEM.

The last time I wore a bikini (other than a cruise where there were no children around) was about 10 years ago. I took my daughters to a public pool. As I took off my outerwear, my daughter (who was about 6 or 7) gasped and said, "Mommy! Put your shirt back on! People are STARING!"

I wasn't naked... I had on a bikini. But apparently, the modesty lessons that I had instilled into my children since birth were also meant for me. From then on, I started wearing one piece suits to the public pool and saved the bikinis for the backyard with the 6 foot privacy fence.

Here's my point: I'm 37. My husband thinks I'm hot (or at least he lies well and tells me that I am). That's all that really matters. I don't want other people to think I'm unattractive, but at the same time, I'm not out trolling for attention. I'm so over that. And let me tell you, if I'm being honest with myself... I think it's a really great phase to be in.

So, enough with the 'hot mom' articles. Desperate Housewives? Puh-leeze. If celebrity women get any thinner, and implants get any bigger, the majority of them won't be able to stand up. And it's pretty difficult to look hot when you keep falling over.

*the form of currency native to Sweethaven, home of the one-eyed sailor.

Hot Weather yields a Lifeless Frump...

Yuck. It's HOT. I don't mean warm. I don't mean kinda hot. It's like Africa hot here. No, I take that back, because I'm sure there are parts of Africa that are less miserable than the weather here.

I just can't function in this kind of weather. My tummy starts to hurt, I'm lethargic, and all I want to do is sleep. Of course... today was my first day back at work. How can anyone be effective when all you can do is sit and puddle?

Yeah, I'm not looking for any suggestions. I just want to whine. ;-)

Oh, and I did FINALLY post some more pictures from San Diego. If you want to see them, click here. Eventually, I'll get more up there... maybe by autumn. By then, the weather will be cooling down, and I'll actually be able to move beyond my current tree sloth pace.

Random memories from my latest trip...

1. Apparently, Summer Breeze (the Seals & Crofts version from the 70s), was THE theme song while I was in San Diego last week. It's easily been years since I last heard or thought of that song (I think). Yet, last week, I heard that song once each day. No lie.

The first time was a very poor rendition from a 'needy' man along the street in front of Anthony's Fish Grotto*. This 'needy' man was playing tunes on his guitar and had a bucket in front of him for donations. Let's just call this the most interesting of the versions I heard in San Diego. Blowing with the jasmine in my MIIIIIIINNNNNND! (imagine this last part in a falsetto voice and very, VERY out of tune)

Another time, it was performed en espagnol at a cafe in Old Town. Good version. The last two times, the actual Seals & Crofts recording was played in a couple of restaurants. I just thought it a little odd that I kept hearing this song every single day!

2. While eating crab-stuffed shrimp at Joe's Crab Shack, I actually heard Xanadu on the muzak that was playing. Seriously. If you are as old as I am, you might remember the movie too. All I know is that someone was doing some major shrooms when that one was written. Love Olivia, but yeesh.

3. On our way back from Old Town last Thursday night, we were sitting at the America Plaza station for about 20 minutes. When the trolley finally approached, a very happy construction worker appeared out of nowhere to hop the trolley on the orange line... same as where we were headed. When I say happy, I mean this guy was feeling NO pain.

Happy Construction Worker guy [reeling around, waving a half-empty bottle of wine]: "WHOOOO! It's time to PAR-TAY! WHOOOOOO!"

Me [eyes as round as pie plates]: "Okay... someone is glad the workday is over."

Scared Midwestern Lady With Me: "Just don't make eye contact with him and everything will be okay."

Me [laughing]: I think this guy is the least of our worries. All you'd have to do is push him over and run. He wouldn't be able to get up!"

Happy Construction Worker guy: "Who wants to join me? I gots plenty of this stuff! WHOOOOOO!"

His joy was so obvious, plus he was providing oodles of entertainment for my group. Sadly, right as the trolley pulled out of the station, two uniformed men joined us for the ride and headed straight for Happy Construction Worker guy. They confiscated his half-empty bottle of wine. Still laughing, he tells them that it's okay... he has more. So then they confiscated all the bottles of wine he has (three). He was still laughing and joking with the officers, right up until the time they started reading him his rights. Then he wasn't so Happy anymore. Much to our chagrin, we pulled up to our station and had to leave the wonderful scene. I was going to take a picture of it all, but my friends thought I might anger the officers.

4. As I was leaving my hotel room, lugging all the bags I brought with me, I glanced at the clock. Guess what time it was? Yep. 11:11. *shudder*

I'm actually feeling half normal today... I'm going to try to post all my pics on my lame photo site later.

*BTW, if you've never been to Anthony's, put that on your Top 10 list of things to do before you die. Yummo.

This sucks...

I always get sick after I travel. ;-(

Will be back to posting when I'm feeling better.

Greetings from Sunny San Diego...

... where it's a lovely 75 degrees F (24 C) and holding.

The convention is pretty decent, and I'm only 2 blocks away in my hotel from the convention center. Everything we've done so far has been within walking distance, and the weather has been perfect for that, too.

The night of the 4th was great, watching all the fireworks over the marina. Very impressive.

Tonight, we'll probably do a little 'tourist-ing' and head over to Old Town. I'm crossing my fingers that my travel group will go with me to the haunted Whaley House, listed as THE most haunted place in America.

Don't have much time to post more... but I could probably add a photo or two. More to come later.


I call the second photo "the best part about San Diego."

Happy Independence Day!

Hope you have a nice 4th of July! Even if you aren't American, it's still technically July 4th, right?

I'm off to San Diego today. I hope to update daily, but who knows.

I'm a compulsive keeper...hanger-onto-of-crap...

Hi... my name is Grumpy F., and I am a packrat. *groan* When I die, I'll be that old lady who makes the news for living in a house filled with papers, books, boxes, and other crap that is literally taking over the house. (no cats, though... I'm allergic.)

I can't help myself. I somehow super-glue emotions to inanimate objects. EVERYTHING has sentimental value to me. And for everyone around me, that means clutter. And mess. And stepping over everything that I cannot, for the life of me, just freaking throw away. Sometimes, it's that tiny thought in my brain that says, "Don't throw it away! You're going to need it as soon as you do." I hate that little thought. It makes me feel a little OCD.

Since I'm so busy at work during the better part of the year, weekends are pretty precious to me. I do NOT want to spend my 'free' time cleaning. Ugh. So, that means that the clutter becomes hills. Then mountains. Why can't I just throw this crap away?!?!

I did finally do some major work yesterday at home. I needed to do as much laundry as physically possible (man, I have a lot of clothes!) before I leave for my conference*. I also needed to get all the off-season clothes stored away. Farm Boy finally kindly brought me the storage containers from the basement. I filled those suckers up.

As I was working on all of that, it just morphed into clearing out some of the clutter. I'm telling you... I could bag up all the garbage of a third world country with all the plastic bags that I save. Here are some of the things to which I tightly cling:

-plastic bags from grocery/discount stores
-shopping bags (the nice, sturdy paper ones with handles)
-receipts (TONS of them)
-old mail
-empty envelopes
-magazines
-shoe boxes (I have a huge shoe tree AND a shoe cabinet... why do I keep empty shoe boxes?)
-all other boxes (tiny, small, medium, large... all of them)
-containers
-greeting/birthday cards
-wrapping paper
-tissue paper
-socks I've had since the 1980s (not that I wear them in public or anything... but sheesh! I got those pink and green striped ones in LONDON. C'mon! I have to keep those!)
-my main character costume from the musical I was in my senior year in high school
-coupons
-lotion
-old cell phones
-baskets
-clothes that I will never want to wear again in this lifetime

... and the list goes on. Yesterday, I made myself throw out the plastic bags, boxes, and containers (all will be recycled), and I put some clothes into an AmVets bag. I threw away the receipts and old greeting cards. The expired coupons made it to the trash, and so did some of them that are still good. What do I need with a two-fer pizza coupon anyway? The only boxes I saved were for a couple of seasonal shoes and boots.

It's a start. Oh, and I can see the carpet in my walk-in closet. I feel better about it. A little. And if I need something that I threw away, I'll just have to go buy another. Which leads to my next compulsion... shopping. But let's save that for another post, shall we?

*I'm leaving tomorrow morning for a conference in San Diego. But of course... I'll be checking in, because I have to post my fabulous photos. Plus, I'm going to catch a ghost at the Whaley House. On camera. So, I'll post that, too. ha ha

A Brief Friday Why Files...

WHY #1: Why do idiots insist on lighting off fireworks for a month before and a month after Independence Day? Seriously... since the first week of June, we've been hearing them, and they'll continue on until school starts mid-August. I love the 4th of July holiday, but I hate the morons who decide it's their God-given right to light off fireworks at all times of the day.

I'm not talking about the little firecrackers, sparklers, or spinny-whirling dervishes. No, I'm talking the big stuff. The illegal stuff. The big ones that make your whole house shake even though it was lit a block away. In our city, almost all fireworks are illegal to own, use, etc. But... if you live outside the city limits, you can do whatever you want. :-(

I'm really not a grump on the 4th of July... I love a good fireworks show... preferably at a show where professionals are involved. I have a cousin (second, once removed) who was in the emergency room every July 4th, because he blew off a hand or lost an eye. I'm not kidding. The nurses knew this kid by name. So, I'm not too keen on the idea of your neighborhood dumbass just lighting off everything he bought the day before.

I live on a very small cul-de-sac... only 7 houses. So the actual "street" area is pretty small. And, it's in an area that isn't within the city limits. So, it's a free-for-all during June and July. The worst culprit is the firefighter who lives on the corner. He lights off the really loud, house-shaking kind all June and July. Worse... he gives some to his 6 year old to light, too. Argggh.

The one thing I can look forward to is that I will be out of town on the 4th this year, so no neighborhood ignoramuses (ignorami??) to piss me off.

Update: Oh, and I forgot to mention that both my dogs go apeshit when they hear the fireworks. Which is like every 5 minutes. All day long. Calgon, take me away.

WHY #2: Why do I live in a state where the weather is so extreme?!?!* During the winter, it can be as cold as 10-15 degrees F below zero (-9 to -12 C) with wind chills even colder. We have ice storms, blizzards, etc. During the summer, it climbs to 100-110 F (38-43 C), with humidity levels 75% and higher. Today, it's supposed to get to 101 degrees F. And it's ONLY JUNE! What are we to expect in August? Yikes!

This concludes today's Friday Why Files.**

*The answer is simple: cost of living. I get three times the house for 1/3 the cost.

**Told ya they would be brief. I have to go shopping today to get ready for my San Diego trip, so I can't spend all day blogging. Right? RIGHT?

Another rant... gee, what a surprise.

I just got a bill for over $1000. Grrrr! Here's the backstory:

In January, I started doctor-prescribed physical therapy. I went at least twice a week, every week. This continued through the first part of April.

At the end of the first few sessions, I tried to pay for my portion. They told me that they would bill me, because it had to go through my insurance company first. After they knew how much the insurance company was going to pay, then they would bill me for the rest. I already knew my insurance company was going to pay 80%... but whatever.

After the first month or so, I asked them again if I could start making some payments. I had not received any bills at home. The answer was always no, because they were still waiting on one thing or the other.

When I first started getting my insurance papers on the PT sessions, I noticed that they were indeed paying 80%, but that there was also an allowance. This PT place was a member of the approved network, so there were allowances in what they could actually charge me. Okay, great. If you've ever had to read your insurance pages, you know they can tend to be a little cryptic... but these actually made sense to me.

After February came to a close, I still hadn't received any bills. I inquired again, and the new girl at the reception desk was pretty clueless. She said something to the effect that it probably meant the insurance allowance was enough to cover all the charges. I wasn't going to take her at her word, so I pleaded with her to ask their billing specialist to call me. Never happened.

So now, almost 7 months after I started, and a good two and half months after I finished all PT, I now FINALLY get a bill. For over $1000. Due July 19.

Yeah, well they can just suck it. I'm going to call them to say they can just piss off. I would gladly have paid them along the way, but there's no way in hell I'm going to dig up $1000 to pay them in full now. Not after all the times I asked if I could make some sort of payment.

I know insurance companies can drag their feet about finally sending their portion of the bill... mine seems to be notorious for doing that. However, if you have someone BEGGING you to let them pay their portion, it seems to me it would be a lot easier to issue them a check on the off chance that there was an overage. Now they're going to have to accept a payment plan from me.

This is the kind of stuff that really, REALLY pisses me off.

The Craving to Rule ALL Cravings...

After reading Darren's and Nabbalicious' posts yesterday that included pictures of them eating at Chipotle, the cravings started. Pretty soon, it was all I could think about.

I was also wondering if people here would think me weird for taking pictures at Chipotle. So... of course, once the Farm Boy returned home from work (he's not on vacation like I am, aw!), we headed out to our favorite burrito retreat.

I love their chairs and stools...




He's a cute, blue blockhead, eh?

Time, time, time... see what's become of me?*

I'm not a clockwatcher, per se. I usually go about the things I do on a daily basis, only somewhat aware of what time it is.

Now, if I'm working and have several meetings or the like scheduled throughout the day... then I'm very cognizant of the time. While I'm home on vacation, though, not so much.

Something very odd has happened, though, while I've been home. The first few days, I didn't even think much of it. But now? It's starting to really freak me out.

While I'm at work, I have a routine that I follow, so I do find myself looking at the clock around the same times of the day. At home, every day has been a little bit different, so there has been no routine to follow.

What's the odd 'thing,' then? Nearly everyday, I find myself looking at the clock when it is exactly 11:11. Some days, it's 11:11am. Some nights, it's 11:11pm. The first couple of times I noticed it, I mentioned to the Farm Boy, "Hey! Look, it's 11:11!" (it's the little things that keep our marriage hot, hot, HOT! hahaha)

Ordinarily, I wouldn't give this more than a second thought, but like I said before... it's starting to freak me out. Please understand, I'm not sitting around WAITING for the clock to turn 11:11. I might be reading, or walking through the house from one room to another, or watching TV with Farm Boy. I'll glance at the clock, and HOLY COW! It's 11:11 again. Yesterday, it happened again when it was 11:11pm, and I told him how much it was starting to creep me out... he just laughed.

I know. Some of you are like, "Hmmm. Maybe if she actually DID something, she wouldn't be looking for things to seem creepy." But I PROMISE... I have been striving to do something every day outside of sleeping in all morning and then eating bonbons** (with marshmallow fluff, ha!) while watching bad daytime TV.

I'm not trying to interpret it or anything. Now, if something nutty happens... like my flight number next week is 1111 or something kooky like that... I might literally fall over in the airport.

Has anything happened like this to any of you? Please share.

*Some of my favorite lyrics of all time...
"Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery, Weaving time in a tapestry, Wont you stop and remember me"

**I don't really eat bonbons. That was just my mom's sarcastic phrase for what she'd been doing all day as a stay-at-home mom when my dad came home from work asking her what she had accomplished. hee hee

The One Where I Revert to Dress Up Games...

Thanks to whoorl for this fun new site... aka Saturday morning boredom.


You can make your own here.


There's Casual (Just got done Shopping) Me, Football Fan Me, and Work Me.

In all cases, I have long sleeves, because I couldn't find a "flabby arms" version of me. ;-)

So, there you go MPB! That's what I look like... and no purple boxes!

Is it Friday already? Guess it's time for the Friday Why Files...

You know, when you are on vacation, the days tend to run together. I have no idea what day it is half the time. So, I guess it's Friday. And it's time for some WHY's.

WHY #1: As predicted... why didn't I stretch more yesterday? And why did I feel the need to prove how great a batter I am? I'm 37 years old and WAYYYYY out of shape. I don't feel as bad as I thought I would, but I'm definitely a little sore. Today, I've had to do a LOT of stretches.

WHY #2: Why is today labeled the Happiest-Day-of-the-Year (yeah, I know what the research says)? Personally, my happier days of the year are:
*Opening-Day-of-Football-Season
*Those-Days-When-The-Temperature-and-Humidity-Work-Together-So-That-One-Can-Actually-Breathe-When-Stepping-Outside
*Christmas
*Any-Day-When-I-Get-To-Sleep-In

WHY #3: Why didn't the authorities just explain that they added maggots to the delinquents' food for extra protein? Durr!

WHY #4: In the whole school lunch debate going on in schools all across the country... when are people going to learn that you can't just leave the nutrition decisions to parents and students? Here's the deal: I tell my kids what they can and can't eat at school. BUT I'M NOT THERE WHEN THEY ORDER THEIR FOOD! Until this past year, I never knew what the kids were ordering. Now, I can get an email of their order history for the month. And I can now hold them accountable. Not every school has that, so many parents are rendered helpless about their child's lunch choices.

So, why are people in Boston going nuts about the Fluffernutter* sandwich? Do kids REALLY need the option of eating marshmallow goo and peanut butter every day? Have you seen the kids in this country? Do you understand the reason TLC has a show called, "Honey We're Killing the Kids?" Come ON! (interesting show, btw)

WHY #5: Why did someone say "YES" to giving Janice Dickinson her own show AND her own modeling agency?** Actually, I can answer this one: because this woman is such a trainwreck... and quite possibly certifiable... that people just have to watch her. Her show is on the Oxygen channel, and I've surfed over it a few times, only to find myself oddly intrigued. If you need some info on Janice, head over to fourfour... he's got the scoop on everything Janice, from her judge spot on America's Next Top Model to her new show. Hee-larious.

This concludes today's Friday Why Files.

*Fluffernutter... yep, that's what they call it. I'm pulling a "Jack and Karen" and giggling like a little girl right now.

**I might apply to Janice as a web site developer. Her agency page is pathetic.

Je suis trop vieille pour cette merde!

Okay, so after yesterday's post, I decided to try to appease all of my personalities (again, after that statement, I'm thinking I might seriously need some therapy).

I allowed Morning Grumpy to sleep in, but I was adamant that I would be up and moving around before 10am. AND IT WORKED!

At 11:30, I took Second Daughter to a ball field and pitched softballs at her. She was hitting really well at the beginning of the season, but she has gotten into a bit of a slump. Long story short, we worked on technique for about a half an hour there, and then we drove to the local batting cages and hit for another 30 minutes (this is all Fast-Pitch softball, btw... not "beer ball"--aka, Slow-Pitch).*

As a teacher, I was always better at modeling how I wanted my students to sing... it's difficult for me to explain to someone how to shape their mouth or sing from their diaphragm. Working with the daughter today... same thing. I kept trying to explain (in vain) how she was swinging too much with her arms and not so much with her body... so I had to demonstrate that, too. Not only did I hit a few balls that she pitched at me, but I also hit at the batting cages.

So, what is this post really about? Hmmm... if you're a regular reader, you probably know my workout habits. And that I've complained that I'm out of shape. And that I was in physical therapy for about 6 months with a bad back.

How did I do today? I was really shocked! I hit the hell out of the ball! I shagged a few grounders... which of course means I had to bend over and really try to get the ball. Ah, muscle memory. I can't tell you how good it feels to hit the living snot out of a softball. The old batting stance was right where I left it... [mumble, mumble] years ago.

Right now, I'm feeling pretty good. No aches in the shoulders or back. Legs feel pretty good, too. But TOMORROW... eek! I have this nagging notion that, tomorrow, I'm going to feel like I was run over by a bus. I might be a little proactive and start the ibuprofen now.

God, it's hell to get old. But I'm looking at it this way... I might have a great "Why did I do that?!" for my Friday Why Files tomorrow. ;-)

*The batting practice helped in her game tonight! Instead of hitting a wimpy shot to 3rd base or straight at the pitcher, she hit a nice one right over the head of the girl playing 1st... well out into right field. Woot!!!

Just call me Sybil...

There is a struggle between my self and my other selves that is never-ending. There's Morning Grumpy, there's Afternoon Grumpy, and then there's Nighttime Grumpy.

Afternoon Grumpy and Nighttime Grumpy get along fairly well most of the time. But neither one of them likes Morning Grumpy at all. Not one bit.

You see, Afternoon Grumpy (AG) and Nighttime Grumpy (NG) are very motivated. They love to actually DO things... exercise, work around the house, do laundry, spend time with the family, go for walks, etc., etc.

Morning Grumpy (MG) is a lazy, pathetic sloth. The alarm goes off during the work week, and she hits snooze. No. Matter. What. When she's expected to get to work on time, she's the one that takes her sweet little time, bargaining that she can sleep 15 more minutes and still get there with no problem. Usually, she's wrong. And then AG has to deal with the fallout for the rest of the day... having to stay later at work than she really wants to.

Right now, all the Grumpy selves are on vacation. There aren't too many mornings when they have to be up at all! However, AG and NG are very excited about all the possibilities of how to use this vacation time. There's so much that could be done, if only they could drag MG out of bed.

Last week, as well as Monday and Tuesday of this week, MG has won. There hasn't been a day yet when there's been something to do early in the day. Even getting the oldest daughter to summer school by 7:30am (oh, isn't that just a cruel joke for kids during summer vacation!!!)... well, she can drive herself. She's back by 10am, and most days, MG hasn't even gotten her lazy arse out of bed! In fact, yesterday, MG was so bad, that she even convinced AG and NG to lie around all day and watch movies. ALL DAY. Yeah, there was the business of the nasty headache, but that's not the point.

So, I'm just not sure what to do. You see, as great as AG and NG are, they are not in control. MG is always in control, because she sets the tone first thing in the day. And no matter what they say they want to do the next day, MG is the one who makes the final decision:

11pm- Nighttime Grumpy: "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to be up no later than 8:30am, throw in a load of laundry, go for a walk while it's still somewhat cool outside, and then take the girls to the pool." [NG goes to sleep]

8am- Morning Grumpy: "What was that imbecile thinking? I'm tired, and I'm going back to sleep." [instantly returns to Dreamland]

9:30am- Morning Grumpy: *yawn* Hmmm... I might be a little hungry, but OH! Look! Drop Dead Fred is on! I love this movie!" [proceeds to watch the entire movie...still in bed]

11:30am- Morning Grumpy: "I'm hungry. Maybe I should have some breakfast. Oh, look. It's already too late to go for a walk. Oh, well. "

12:00pm- Afternoon Grumpy: "%&#$!!!! That fooking MG wasted another whole morning!!"


I'm starting to really dislike this MG. A lot. (and it's entirely possible I should be in therapy)

There's a storm a-brewin'...

I am a human barometer. If there's any kind of storm or bad weather headed my way... I'm miserable. A major shift in the weather? You can be pretty certain I'll have a headache. Oh, and I'll be grumpy grumpIER.

So where do I live? Right. In the midwest. In that place where they love to say, "Don't like the weather? Wait five minutes and it will change."

I think I'm a sucker for punishment. Or a sadist.

Happy Papa's Day...

Happy Father's Day to my Dad. I don't tell you about my blog... and that's my present to you! (actually, you're getting something that you really, really want from the Sharper Image, but shhhh. Don't tell.)

Happy Father's Day to the Farm Boy. You make your children laugh, even if it's at your expense. Your step-daughters think you are a really good guy. That's a very good sign. :-) I love your great big daddy heart and the fact that you moved half away across this country, just so you could be closer to your children.

Happy Father's Day to my Ex.... because you gave me two really great kids. And I know you love them and are a part of their lives. You're a good dad.

And Happy Father's Day to all the other daddies out there. :-)

(please don't think that semi-mushy posts are going to be a habit here. 'Cause they're not.)

Friends don't let friends see Nacho Libre...

Seriously. Save yourself the $8. The only semi-humorous scenes of the movie are in the previews... which you can watch for free.

(and I'm really bummed. I like Jack Black. I tried to find some redeeming factor in this movie. I really, really tried.)

Friday Why Files... and you know I have to "go there."

WHY #1: There are two people that I try never to mention on this site: Tomas Crazy and The Mouseketeer that Went Very, Very Wrong. But I have to do so today regarding the latter nutjob.

Why did anyone find Britney's life fascinating enough to devote an entire episode of Dateline to her? I know... the paparazzi can be hell. I sympathize with most celebrities, because I'm sure it would totally suck, never having one moment of privacy. BUT... if you make out with Madonna on MTV, aka putting yourself out there to get attention, in addition to many, MANY more press-grabbing ploys, I don't have a lot of sympathy.
btw, we watched about 20 minutes- out of sheer morbid curiosity, akin to a trainwreck- and decided that girl needs a new publicist/PR/spokesperson STAT. I was embarrassed for her.

WHY #2: Did anyone see Garfield, The Movie? If you did, I'm sorry. And so are you. But the bigger issue is... don't movies need to be somewhat successful to result in a sequel? So, then my question is: WHY was "A Tail of Two Kitties" ever made? The reviews are outstanding. Or not so much.

WHY #3: Why don't people read and 'heed' expiration dates? (you'd think the greenish tint to the pancakes would be a big clue.)

WHY #4: Why would they keep building this school on a site known to have been a former cemetery? Didn't these people see Poltergeist? To quote my favorite crazy, Miss Whitney Houston, "Hell to the NO!"

WHY #5: After all the "What Not to Wear"-type shows, as well as ridicule left and right, why do people (mostly men) still wear black socks*, pulled up mid-calf, while wearing shorts? Please. Somebody help me understand.

WHY #6: Why does some idiot at every televised golf tournament feel the need to bellow "It's in the hole!" for every shot? It could be a tee shot, an approach, a chip, a putt... it doesn't matter. Billy Joe Bob is always there, most likely in his wifebeater and denim cutoffs, ensuring that he gets his 15 seconds of air time.

EDIT: I had to include one more: WHY #7: Why does Burger King continue with the crazy commercials? I mean, I like the chicken on the motorcycle. In and of itself, it's pretty comical. A chicken on a motorcycle. Ha ha. But WHY is there a song in the background, "Big Hucking Chicken?" What does "hucking" mean anyway? I looked it up, and it's not even a recognized word.
UPDATE: Thanks to DBJ, who informed this oldster that to "huck" means to launch something upwards... as in motocross, skateboarding, etc.

This concludes today's Friday Why Files.

*Okay, the black socks piece reminds me of an experience I must relate. I saw a real-life Pat today... you know, the androgenous/ambiguously-gendered person who was born on Saturday Night Live in the early 1990s? I saw a person today in the grocery store parking lot... dressed in khaki shorts, Hawaiian print shirt, black socks and loafers. The black socks made me lean toward believing this person was male, but the closer he/she moved toward me, the more confused I became. Hair was curly and just above the shoulder, and the face divulged no gender-specific information whatsoever. He/She was built very similarly to Pat, so I couldn't guess at body parts, either. Chalk this up to Moment # 463,021 where I severely regret not having my camera with me. :-(

Same Ghost Time, Same Ghost Channel...

I have decided to unleash my entrepreneurial spirit and start a cable channel of my own. And, I might add, it's about time.

Most days, you can turn on your idiot box, channel surf a little, and find SOME show about paranormal-something-or-other. But lately, I am surprised when I've looked and couldn't find one.

I think the problem is that they're dispersed across too many different channels. You can find Ghost Hunters on Sci-Fi, Most Haunted* on the Travel channel, Psychic Investigators on Biography, and a new one- Haunting Evidence on Court TV... and so on. Hey, even The Medium runs repeats on Lifetime (LIFETIME???!?!? What does that have to do with the show?). But I digress. Anyway, around Halloween, the frequency of such shows increases tenfold.

Wouldn't it make MUCH more sense to just have a single channel that would run all these shows all day long? I think so.

So, I'll set it ALL up.** I just need one of you (or many of you... I'm not picky) to finance it for me. 'Kay? Cool.

Even if you don't believe in ghosts or the like, think of all the freaks (like me) who will watch this channel. Think of the advertisers who will jump on board. Think of all the NEW products that will come of this.

Why does this interest me so much? I don't think I've ever had a true paranormal experience, other than a couple of freaky dreams (I'll save those for later postings). I lived in a couple of really old houses before, and I always felt uncomfortable in certain parts of those houses... but I think it was just my own little paranoia. Nothing substantial.

Do any of you have good ghost stories? goldennib posted one of her recent experiences. But I want to hear more stories!! You can either add them to my comments, or post your own. Just let me know when you do. I find this subject utterly fascinating!

So, there. That's your assignment. :-)

*Okay, so this one is definitely NOT my favorite. I believe in paranormal stuff, but this show is even a little too hokey for me. When the 'medium' guy (I'm leaving his name out purposefully) starts channeling and allowing a spirit to speak through him, it looks SOOOOO phoney. If he were ever to prove this to me, then I might think differently.

**Well, do I really have the initiative to do this? Sure. If someone could come up with the moolah and guarantee that I wouldn't lose any money in the deal? Absolutely. Is it more likely that I just want to read some really good stories from all of you? Could be.

Like a kid in a candy store...

I have a love/hate relationship with Barnes & Noble... mostly love, though.

I absolutely ADORE reading. I always have. During kiddie summer reading programs at the local library, I was always the top reader. I earned those silver stars ever so rapidly. Not that I cared about the contest prize... I don't even remember what any of them were. I just wanted to read and read and READ. Okay, so I'm also a tiny bit competitive, and I just wanted more stars than anyone else.

Today, the girls and I moseyed over to the local B&N. My queue at home is getting short, and I want enough choices when I finish the current novel.

So, what's the "hate" part then?

I always imagined that, one day, when I retired, I would own my own little Book Store Around The Corner, complete with oversized, overstuffed, cushy chairs and sofas strategically placed around the store. Not only would I sell books there, but I would have story time with the little kiddies in the mornings. I might even dress in character for a few of them. Coffee and tea would always be in ample supply. Starting to sound like something from a movie? A not-so-well-written movie that was churned out to get its stars one more romantic plot together? Yeah. Well, that was my dream. But I'm afraid the B&N's, Amazons, and Borders of the world have quashed my dream.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a B&N card-carrying member. Walking in their doors brings to me the type of euphoria that most people seek through chemical stimulation.

But as I wander up and down the aisles, perusing the titles and authors, looking for the items on my book wish list, I sigh a little. Unless I move to some podunk town where a) a store that size would never dream of opening, b) the locals don't know how to use the internet to buy anything, and c) everyone loves to read... I don't see that dream ever coming true.

But why would I want to move to a podunk town where no one knows how to use the internet? No, thank you. Dream crushed. End of story. (unless maybe I get a new dream?)

A short multiple-choice quiz (it's easy, I promise!)...

1. If you have recently had a baby... check that, if you have EVER had a baby:

a) you should not shop for yourself at Wet Seal
b) you should not shop for yourself at Forever 21
c) you should not shop for yourself at Hot Topic
d) All of the Above*

2. Where road construction is concerned:

a) the city should mark appropriate places where new asphalt and tar-like substances are fresh, so that one does not drive through it, thereby coating one's Loser Cruiser in a viscous, gloppy, malodorous substance that the local Gorilla car wash cannot remove
b) the city should devise more than one exit route from one's housing division when closing off the main entrance, in order to prevent the resulting bottleneck and inevitable road rage
c) All of the above


3. When taking one's children to lunch at Qdoba**, it is not always appropriate:

a) to vocalize one's preference for Chipotle as the manager walks by
b) to whine incessantly that "we should have gone to Chipotle instead"
c) to obsess that the cilantro lime rice is not as good as the cilantro lime rice at Chipotle
d) to opine on the merits of the salty lime chips at Chipotle vs the salty lime chips at Qdoba
e) to compare Qdoba to a "copycat version of Chipotle"
f) All of the Above

So... if you answered "All of the Above" to ummm... well, all of the above questions, you are 100% correct! Yay, you!

First day of vacation... didn't accomplish much. I think I'm going to go for a walk now. The Farm Boy has to work late in another city, so I'll probably exercise for a little bit, then watch me some Kyra Sedgwick (I think I might be liking The Closer... not a bad show). I might even have a glass of wine. By myself. And then I'll fight the urge to blog again. More than twice a day might be overkill for me.


*There was someone of the female persuasion at the mall today... I hesitate to call her a woman, because I'm not quite certain of her age. She very well might have been under 20, but that's not the point. The point is, she was shopping in Wet Seal, and then proceeded directly to Hot Topic. With. A. Newborn. Baby. One that was crying loudly. While she shopped for pubescent fashion. Ummm... no. Really. No.

** I felt like SUCH a traitor! Believe me. It won't happen again. (sorry, tammara. I really do like Chipotle better)

Monday, Monday... so good to me...

Monday morning.

7:30am- Woke up. Laughed... I don't have to work today.

7:32am- Went back to sleep.

10:38am- Woke up again. Yawned loudly. Channel-surfed.

11:30am- Thought about getting out of bed.

11:38am- Thought about getting out of bed. Again.

11:49am- Finally got out of bed.

Ah. I dearly love vacation.

A steaming hot pile of Friday Why Files...

WHY #1: Why does my hair look like Marlo Thomas' hair in That Girl today? Gah!

Oh, and fyi... this show was 'before my time,' so no age cracks, please.

WHY #2: Why the hell heck is it so freaking hot outside already?!? Sheesh! It's only June!

WHY #3: Why couldn't they wait until after school... and then "knock it out" in a park somewhere? Activity fee: $35.00. Phys Ed uniform cleaning fee: $10.00. Catching two of your teachers having sex in a classroom DURING SCHOOL HOURS: Priceless.

(A separate WTF? moment... what is with the teachers lately? As a former teacher, I am truly speechless at all the insanity. Sex with students, sex during the school day? Who ARE these idiots?!?!)

WHY #4: Why does the media insist upon posting pictures of dead guys? Zarqawi is dead. I'll take your word for it. Please, for the love of Bob, stop showing pictures of his dead body!! They all did the same thing with the spawn of Saddam, Uday and Qusay. As soon as they were killed, their dead photos were all over the place. The media fascination with the macabre is beyond my comprehension.

WHY #5: Why, why, WHY can't I find a job like this?!?! I'm a fabulous researcher. Ask anybody. Pay me $1 million, and I'll get you whatever you want to know.

WHY #6: This one is almost too good. The "WHY" is why didn't anyone catch this before now. An engineer for the city of Des Moines "swears that consultants who work for the city did not design the $5.7 million detention basin to resemble anything."

Trust me.... if you don't follow any of the links today, at least click on this one to view the picture. It's worth it.

And this concludes today's Friday Why Files...

Dead puppies... aren't much fun...

There used to be a song played on the Dr. Demento show, and it was called "Dead Puppies."* Here's a sampling of the lyrics:

Dead puppies
Dead puppies
Dead puppies aren't much fun
They don't come when you call
They don't chase squirrels at all
Dead puppies aren't much fun

Well, apparently, some people think that dead puppies ARE fairly useful. I thought about saving this link for the Friday Why Files... but I think this goes WAY beyond a simple "WHY." In fact, it's more like a "WTF, mate?!?"

From CNN.com:
"A woman angry that her new puppy had died pushed her way into a dog breeder's home and repeatedly hit her on the head with the dead Chihuahua."

If you're too lazy to follow the link, here's the scoop: she was mad that the puppy died, so she wanted to return it and get another one (a live one, preferrably). An altercation ensued with the breeder, which led to the customer deciding that beating the breeder over the head with a dead puppy would be... fun. Apparently.

*Don't send me nasty emails about listing lyrics to this song... I didn't write it. Plus, I have a chihuahua. And he's not dead. Nor am I hitting anyone on the head with him.

Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!?!

Swearing. It's a guilty pleasure. I actually relish releasing a torrent of obscenities out of my mouth... as long as no one else is around. Well, okay. Farm Boy can be around. But that's it. It's sometimes good for releasing pent-up frustration. I can actually feel loads better after a nasty rant.

In public, around the kids, in front of friends or family, though... it's just not cool. In most cases, it's beyond inappropriate. I don't swear aloud in public, other than an occasional "dammit" or "what the hell was that?!?" I don't want to be that trashy lady with the sailor's mouth. I also hate swearing in front of my kids, because I don't want them to talk like that.

Ah, but herein lies the dilemma. The more you swear, um, well... the more you swear. And if you hang around with people who swear... it's CONTAGIOUS. When I'm alone in my car, road rage takes over and I swear through my car windows. I guess that's not so bad, unless other drivers can read my lips... or when I remember that there are kids in the backseat (laughing their arses off!).

So, I guess I need to quit cold turkey. I know I won't be able to do it immediately, but it's worth a try. Or at least, I can quit certain words... one in particular. I can type it with creating spellings, or even in a funny Irish accent. I mean, "fooking" is pretty funny when you say it out loud. It's even somewhat funny to type.

But as for you, Mr. F-Bomb, I think we need to part ways. Sure, it's been fun having you around. You function as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and a really swell interjection. You roll off the tongue with such ease, yet you are powerfully crass at the same time. But... here's the thing. I look a lot like the girl-next-door. I'm that "girl" that everyone seems to think is such a NICE girl (well, those who don't read this blog anyway). And you and me? We just don't fit. We can't make this relationship work anymore, and I'm sorry. I'll miss you, but it's time to say "so long." Hasta la vista. Adieu.

(I give myself less than 24 hours before one slips out)

Layers of Flavor? Ummmm... NO.

Okay. I feel a rant coming on.

I understand that "fast food," as a concept, is not intended to be nutritious. However, it seemed like we were making some gains in the last few years where some fast food places were actually offering some healthy (or at least healthier) alternatives to their usual fare.

But now, it's like we're regressing again. The burger joints are racing to see which one can build the biggest, nastiest, heart-attack-in-a-paper-wrapper before all the others. How many pounds of bacon come on that triple?!?!

The nastiest thing I've seen advertised, though, is that mess from the "fried chicken place that shall no longer allow the word "fried" to be uttered in its advertisement." Something Krusty Fowl City? You know of whom I type. Here's how I'm guessing they came up with their new menu specialty--

Some yokel from the braintrust of Krusty Fowl City: "Hmmmm... what can we make now that will entice people to clog their arteries and store fat like there's no tomorrow? How about a cloud of fluffy mashed potatoes, layered beneath corn, deep-fried chicken strips, and gravy... then topped off with some melted cheese! Brilliant!!!"

Blech! Seriously... is there anyone out there that finds this appealing?!?! If you do, please let me know!

You know what it reminds me of? Did you ever go to a family reunion where you had this crazy picnic with all of your octogenarian relatives? Those same great aunts and uncles who filled their plates with everything on the buffet... and then proceeded to stir it all together into one giant mess. And then they ATE IT. *shudders*

I'm guessing that might be how Krusty Fowl City came up with this idea.... 'cause I can't imagine why anyone with all their original teeth would actually ask for it.

Friday Why Files... late edition

WHY #1: Why do I keep listening to the Original Broadway Cast CD Avenue Q while I'm in my car? Because, you know those songs get stuck in your head. And you go around singing them all day long. OUT LOUD. And that's bad news, kids, because this is the 'naughty puppet' show on Broadway (for those of you who don't know).

The songs are hilarious. If you're easily offended, you don't want to listen to the majority of the songs… and you most definitely don't want to go to the show. But I'm not easily offended, so I love it all.

However, one cannot go to work singing, "The Internet is for Porn" or "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" or "It Sucks to Be Me"—well, actually, I think I've sung that last one on my own now for quite some time. ;-)


WHY #2: Why is Anna Nicole Smith procreating? Again? I'm so disgusted by this, I'm not even going to link to the news story. There should be a law barring this woman from ever having children. EVER.


WHY #3: Why wouldn't coroners perform some kind of identification check on ANY deceased individual? It just makes sense to me that you would want to be 100% certain when you are officially noting a person as "deceased." As you've heard all over news reports, this kind of tragic error is easily avoidable.


WHY #4: Why, why, WHY are people so freaking stupid? I don't care what your IQ is. Dumb is dumb. To quote Forrest, stupid is as stupid does. I just am constantly amazed, open-mouthed, flabbergasted at what people think they can get away with anymore.

If your son was on trial for rape, do you think you could honestly get away with hiring a hit man to kill his wife and children—so that they couldn't testify against him? These people did.

This last one makes me so mad... I just have to stop now. SO...

This concludes today's Friday Why Files.

The TwoTHREE Loves of My Life...

Wednesday night... after a marathon 2-hour softball game where Daughter #2's team was up 16-7 and then ended up TYING 16-16 (are you freaking kidding me??!!??)....

8:00pm Central Time

Love #1: Farm Boy sitting on the couch with me...

Love #2: ... eating Chipotle burritos and chips...

Love #3: watching the TV tuned into the SciFi Channel for the season finale of Ghost Hunters .

Burrito-goodness blended together with freaky ghost hunting. Life doesn't get much better than that. The only thing missing was my Chipotle "Addicted" shirt. 'Cause that's what I am. Ahhhhh.

One reason summer vacation sucks....

In two weeks, I will have about a month's vacation. I love vacation, because I don't really have a lot of things I HAVE to do. However, that does tend to get me into a little bit of a slump.

Every summer during my vacation, I tell myself that I will recharge... exercise more, get some work done at home, etc., etc. I'm just setting myself up for disappointment, you know.

Typical La Grump vacation scenario:

8:00am-- I'm still in bed. I'll THINK about getting up for a walk before it gets too hot outside to breathe. Yeah... but I'm SOOOO tired. I'll just sleep a little longer.

10:00am-- *yawn* Wow, I slept longer than I thought I was going to. I should really get up now. *strolls into kitchen for a bowl of Kashi cereal* Wow. Look at that sun outside. *opens sliding glass door to backyard-- wave of heat nearly knocks me over* Yikes. Guess I won't be going for that walk now.

12:00pm-- *still in jammies* Maybe I should think about showering and getting dressed. Nah. If When I work out this afternoon, I'll just get all sweaty anyway... I should just stay in my jammies.

1:00pm-- *finds an absolutely fabulous movie on cable* Hey! I love this movie! I've seen it so many times, that I can quote it verbatim, but I MUST watch this. So, I'll fold some towels or something as I watch the movie.

3:00pm-- Hey! This next movie that's on RIGHT AFTER THE FIRST ONE is also amazing. I haven't seen it since... last week, I think! Must. Watch. Again.

5:30pm-- Yipe... I'd better think about making some dinner.

6:00pm-- Maybe we should just go out to eat. But... oops. I have to shower first.

6:30pm--*steps out of shower, all clean and great smelling*

7:15pm-- I'm clean, my hair is done, my makeup is perfect... let's go get dinner.

9:00pm-- *family returns home* Ooh.. I forgot to blog today. Better get to that!

10:30pm-- Well, it IS a weeknight. And I don't want to fall out of that work pattern of going to bed early. Maybe I should hit the hay.

10:45pm-- *finds another absolutely fabulous movie* Cool! I love this flick!

1:00am--*wide awake... can't sleep* Infomercials suck. What else is on?

2:30am--*yawn* Maybe I should go to sleep now.

... and then the whole thing repeats over again. Okay, well maybe not every day... but definitely more times than I even care to think about. Meh.

What the X?!?!?

Saw X3 today. It was good, but I agree with all the critics about Brett Ratner ruining things a little.

BUT, that's not the reason I'm posting.

The reason I'm posting is:

1A. If you see the movie, stay through the credits until the very end.

1B. If you have already seen the movie and didn't stay through the credits, go here*:
X Men 3 After The Credits.

1C. I didn't stay (which I ALWAYS do, because there are usually cool things in the credits), because I drank too much soda during the movie and basically had to run down the stairs, bowling over a granny with a walker and two little kids**... to get to the restroom QUICKLY. So, I missed this... but luckily, I was browsing YouTube today and found it.


*I didn't embed the video, because I don't want to ruin anything for those who are planning to see it.

**Not really, but I wanted to. I just stood behind them, waiting, very impatiently.

A really short Friday Why Files...

WHY #1: Why do I read movie reviews? I mean, I hardly ever agree with them anyway. But I did today. Apparently, X3 is not as good as X2. In fact, some critics are veeerrrrrrrrry disappointed. It doesn't help that Brett Ratner directed this time, instead of that Singer guy.

Now I'm going to walk into that movie and wait for it to suck. boo. Oh, well. At least Hugh Jackman's still in it. I think I could probably be entertained watching him do even the most mundane tasks:

1. Hugh doing the laundry... Five stars!
2. Hugh removing lint from the filter/catcher on the hairdryer... Five stars!
3. Hugh watching TV... Five stars!
4. Hugh watching TV... shirtless.... Five thousand stars!

WHY #2: Someone please remind me WHY I okayed a birthday party with 30 prepubescent children attending. Tonight. For FOUR HOURS.

WHY #3: Why don't I know any activist vampires like this??? I need more laughs in my life.

WHY #4: Why are criminal's rights sooooo important? I know why we need civil rights, and all that. Don't send me a recap of the Bill of Rights. Just.Read.On.

You all know the internet predator stories on the tv news. Well, an Arizona judge ruled that any predators who were lured into situations where they THOUGHT they were meeting children... cannot be arrested if the person doing the "luring" was actually an adult. Even though the predator thought he/she was meeting a child... if it really wasn't a minor, there's no law-breaking here.

So, now what? Should we start using ACTUAL children to bait these people? Come ON! Perverted Justice is the group that has been working with the news reporters to bring these people in. And the good old US Justice System just gave them a big kick in the teeth. Boooo.


This concludes Friday's Why Files.... 'cause I have to go teenage-proof my house. Wish me luck.

Random ideas on a Thursday night...

1. 13 years ago today, I was giving birth. To my youngest child. And I had just finished my first year of teaching. Wow. Time flies.

2. Tonight, while my baby was out having dinner with her dad, her sister, and her dad's wife, I was meeting with some of my old teacher friends whom I haven't seen in years. Some of them... it's been 8 years. Wow.

3. I drank an Orange Dreamsicle martini with dinner, and then drank two glasses of wine. More like inhaled two glasses of wine. I'm a lightweight. That means I'm drunk right now. AND... it's taking me forever to type this freaking post, because I keep having to correct my typos. Because, apparently, I can't type very well after becoming slightly intoxicated.

4. Yeah. That's all I got.

5. One more. Apparently, I'm not as funny drunk as I thought I'd be. go figure.

Mmmmmm....

---

Ramblin', ramblin', ramblin'....

Stacy hates voice mail. I don't mind it so much... IF you get to the point. Quickly.

What? You need me to come pick up my kid from school because she fell and cut her head open? Great. Just say that. Don't hem and haw about how she's okay really, there's very little blood, and she's even laughing, but you think I should maybe call, or maybe I should just come to the school straightaway, because this looks a little bit serious. She should probably see a doctor, or maybe even go to the emergency room.... But you don't want me to panic, so there's no need to drive in a hurry. She'll be fine. Would you like to hear her say she's okay? Here, honey, tell your mommy you're okay. *muffle, muffle* "I'm okay, mom" *muffle, muffle* Oh, honey... now the blood is dripping down your nose. Come here. Okay, so well, yeah why don't you head on over to the school as soon as you get this message. We'll take care of her in the nurse's office until you get here. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot to tell you what happened. She ran into a table, and there's just the tiniest little split in her forehead, but there's a butterfly bandage holding everything together, okay???

No. Not okay. I need Short. To the point. Descriptive, but brief.



The opposite, a too brief message, is sometimes worse:

Voice mail from my sister, in a very sad, sing-songy voice, circa 1992:

"Hi, Grump. It's your sister. I have some really sad news. Call me."

WHA?!?!?! Someone died. I just know it. Ack! Why didn't she leave me more of a message?!?

My grandfather was very, very ill at the time. Of course, I'm in panic mode. So, I call my family, and NO ONE IS HOME. None of them carried cell phones at the time, either (can you imagine?!?). Three devastatingly long hours later... my sister finally returns my call to tell me that our 12 year old dog had died. The dog with seizures, cataracts, and loss of muscle control. The one that we were about to put to sleep to put him out of his misery. He just died. Okay, so that's sad... but c'mon!

The moral of the story is: think through your voice messages. The person on the other end is relying on you to be smart about this.

Coming up... tomorrow's special: a cartoon for hannah. :-)

Creature of Habit...

I went to Chipotle on Saturday. And. Didn't. Eat. A. Burrito.

I asked for a quesadilla instead: black beans and cheese. That's all. Chips and Diet Coke accompanied my dinner. And it was good. But I think the burrito is better. The only reason I ordered a quesadilla? We were on our way to the movies, and I wanted popcorn. I didn't think I could eat an entire burrito, plus chips (gotta have the chips!!!), and then have room for popcorn. Lame, huh? The quesadilla was okay, but I like my usual much better (veggie burrito: black beans, rice, cheese, a little sour cream, and lettuce)!

This leads to the real reason for my post: I am a creature of habit.

When I go to restaurants, about 99% of the time, I order the exact same thing. When I go outside my routine, I usually end up disappointed. At one of our local Mexican restaurants, I always (ALWAYS) order a seafood enchilada. One day, I thought I'd be bold and order something else. It was icky. Very icky. So, the next time I ventured to that restaurant, I returned to my old stand-by, the seafood enchie. Not much of a risk-taker, am I?

Maybe you've already read my post about what happened when I tried to go to a new hair stylist. Disaster.

Sometimes, I get a little gutsy and try something new.

Grumpy Frump Risks, Take 1!

Me: "Hey! Here's a new sweetener! What do they call it? Splenduh*? Cool! This should be great!"

[drinks a new Diet Coke sweetened with Splenduh]

[three hours later]

Me: "Farm Boy! Farm Boy! Quick! I think I'm dying!"
My stomach: "What the hell did you put into me?"
Farm Boy: "Now what did you eat? Drink? Touch? Breathe?"

...and Scene!

24 hours of sheer stomach/intestinal hell later, I tried to deduce what it was that put me in such gastrointestinal distress. Ah. Maybe I should stay away from synthetic sucralose. Nightmares resurface from the days of WOW chips and Olestra. But let's not go there. So, okay. Splenduh doesn't like me; therefore, I don't like Splenduh.

So, maybe it's only that I don't take risks when it comes to food or hair styles. Or maybe it's more than that. I'm trying to do some re-evaluating of what I do, and why I do it. Soul-searching is not always a fun thing. Sometimes, you see things you don't always like. Sometimes, you realize that you need to make some changes, and that it's okay to do that. Changes, however, should be made for the better... not just 'change for the sake of change.' I think I can risk that.

But then again, sometimes you just have to say, "What the hell. I'll have the usual!"


*name changed to protect ME. I don't need any crazy litigation. Really. I don't.

Friday Why Files.... one day late.

WHY #1: Ludi suggested I ask "Why didn't I post the Friday Why Files on Friday?" Alas, the world may never know. (That sounds better than I really just forgot)

WHY #2: Clumsy Britney almost drops her baby. The "why" is... why haven't we implemented mass sterilization for the perpetually stupid?

WHY #3: Why can't I be this forgetful (and lucky)?

WHY #4: Lionel Richie is hugely popular in Iraq. Wha? ABC News reporter, John Berman states, "Grown Iraqi men get misty-eyed by the mere mention of his name. "I love Lionel Richie," they say. Iraqis who do not understand a word of English can sing an entire Lionel Richie song. " They're truly in love with Lionel. Go figure.

WHY #5: Why can't all men dance like this guy? It's a six minute video, but trust me... it's pure gold. Solid gold! Ladies and Gentlemen, YouTube presents: The Evolution of Dance.



This concludes The Why Files... one day late.

I heart bloggers...

It takes a village to raise a child....

... and it takes a blogging community to cheer me up. :-)

Ah, 'tis Friday, my favorite day of the week, next to Saturdays when I get to sleep in. Today, I worked a half day, then I took my aunt to a spa. She got a massage, and I got a pedicure. Not just any old plain boring pedicure.... a whirlpool spa pedicure. Ah, sweet heaven. I must do that more often.

We're heading into the busiest season of the year right now at work. It will pick up steam up through the first part of June, die down a little in early July, and then go full throttle again at the end of July into August. So, I will be some kind of insane, goopy mess, possibly resembling Gak. No, not the meth definition... that gooey stuff that they used to sell and promote on Nickelodeon. If I do turn into Gak, I hope I'm purple. Or maybe pink. But not that neon green stuff. Ick.

So... thanks again everyone. You rock. or RAWK. Whichever you prefer.

Oh, and I added some new Cool Kids, so check them out. Funny people! If you are a frequent reader/non-lurker, and I don't have your name in the Cool Kids, it's an oversight. So call me on it.

Happy Friday! (oops, I just realized I didn't post WHY files today. I'll post them tomorrow!)

Life is hard….

“All succeeds with people who are of cheerful disposition.” Voltaire

“A happy woman is one who has no cares at all; a cheerful woman is one who has cares but doesn't let them get her down.” Beverly Sills

“Children ask better questions than adults. ‘May I have a cookie?’ ‘Why is the sky blue?’ and ‘What does a cow say?’ are far more likely to elicit a cheerful response than ‘Where's your manuscript?’ ‘Why haven't you called?’ and ‘Who's your lawyer?’” Fran Lebowitz

"Nobody ever said life was easy." Everyone

"If everything was 'good' all the time, we wouldn’t know what 'good' means… because we’d have nothing to compare it to." Unknown (but it might have been me)

"Life sucks and then you die, so figure out a way to make the before-dying-part better." Unknown

"It's all bullshit, and you know it." ??

I’m stressed. I’m disappointed. I’m tired. I’m annoyed. And I don’t want anyone to cheer me up.

God, if this is what middle-age is like, fast forward me to my sixties, please.

I swear this is what I looked like when I woke up this morning.



Gah.

Deeeeep Thoughts... by YOU!

You know, I sure could use some laughs about now. And you people are the best ones to send some chuckles and chortling my way. Your comments and posts on your own sites are some of the funniest things I’ve ever read.

So, you have an assignment. :-) I used to be a teacher, so gimme a break.

Do you remember “Deep Thoughts with Jack Handey” from Saturday Night Live?

One example: “If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is ‘God is crying.’ And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is ‘Probably because of something you did.’"

Some newspaper had a contest once asking kids from age 4-15 to come up with their own “Deep Thoughts.” Here are a couple:

I like to go down to the dog pound and pretend that I've found my dog. Then I tell them to kill it anyway because I already gave away all of his stuff. Dog people sure don't have a sense of humor. --Age 14

If we could just get everyone to close their eyes and visualize world peace for an hour, imagine how serene it would be until the looting started. -- Age 15

Give me the strength to change the things I can, the grace to accept the things I cannot, and a great big bag of money. --Age 13

When I go to heaven, I want to see my grandpa again. But he better have lost the nose hair and the old-man smell. --Age 5

Funny stuff, huh? I bet you could do better. So, in your comments, please leave me your own Deep Thoughts. If it’s really good, you’ll probably end up in my sidebar… because that’s the kind of person I am (i.e., I steal other people’s good ideas).

If you need a starter phrase, try some of these old adages:

A stitch in time…
He who laughs last…
If you sow thorns…
He who walks with wise men will be wise, but…

Ready, set, go.

I survived... barely.

Saturday: 150 teenagers in an amusement park. For NINE HOURS.

Actually, the kids were all really good. It was just the NINE HOURS that wore me out. That, and watching multiple sets of kids riding a skycoaster with a drop of 180 feet (85 meters?). I kept screaming with them... and I was just watching from the ground.

A few of them asked me if I was going to try. Ummm, let me see. How about, NO! How about Hell no! or as Whitney, my favorite crazy, says, "HELL TO THE NO!"

When did I get so old?!??? Sorry, I can't answer that. I have to go to bed now. Night-night.

Friday Why Files... Late Edition

Well, it's almost Saturday, but I still have a little while yet to post this week's Friday Why Files.

Why #1: WHY does anyone care anymore? Has Ashlee Simpson had a nose job? I don't CARE!

Why #2: From a Reuters news story: "More than 60% of Britons use items such as screwdrivers, scissors and earrings to remove food from between their teeth..." First of all, OUCH. Secondly, floss anyone?

Why #3: WARNING: opinion ahead. Zacarias Moussaoui (co-conspirator of the Sept. 11 tragedies) wants to change his plea to not guilty, after being found guilty. Huh?!? Dude, you confessed. You pleaded guilty. They found you guilty. Done. There is no passing GO to collect $200.

On top of that, his sentence has angered a lot of people. They thought he should have received the death penalty instead of life imprisonment. Reminder to these people: the other guys he worked with chose to die for their cause. A death sentence for Moussaoui would be giving him something he wants. Letting him rot in a cell for the rest of his life will be torture to him. And that's all I have to say about that.

Why #4: Somewhere in Maryland... a funky odor led authorities to find over 100 cats and dogs in a house. I know there is some named disorder for this, but I don't feel like looking it up. What on earth would possess someone to do this? I have two little dogs, and I think that's too many for me. In fact, there are days when I walk into my home and freak out a little, because I detect even the slightest whiff of "dog." Can you imagine the stench of over 100 animals in one home? Gah! My stomach is queasy just thinking about it!

Why #5: Supermodel falls out of a bus (at 50 mph/80.5km), because she opened the emergency exit in the bus restroom (WC) instead of the door that would take her back to the passenger area. Why was she left unattended? We all know supermodels need special attention.

... and that concludes today's Friday Why Files.

Brought to you by the letter F...

-r- posted about the letter "N," and gave me a great idea for a post today. So, here are all things "F" related as of right now:

1. Fried. As in the state of my brain (of course, not due to any type of chemicals).

2. Football, Fall, and Favorite. Because football is my favorite, and football also means it's fall (better known as autumn), which is also my favorite. Also, the newspapers and sports shows are already talking about college football... and it's still technically 3 months away.

3. Fabulous. A word that I say far too often. "Hey, thanks for helping me out with that project. You're fabulous!" "Wow! What a stunning outfit you have on today. It's just fabulous!" "I'm chaperoning HOW many kids this weekend? Oh, fabulous."

4. Frump. Webster's definition: "a dowdy unattractive girl or woman." And I named my blog what?!?! Gee, self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.

5. Five. As in "High Five." (that's for you, hannah and julie gong)

6. Falafel. I have always wanted to try falafel, and never have. Plus, it's just cool to say (try it. you'll like it. All the cool kids are saying it!).

7. Faeries. I do believe in faeries *clap, clap, clap*... and that's the more interesting spelling. But also, Fairies, as in Photographing Fairies. Anyone ever seen this movie? Pretty cool.

8. Farm Boy and Fezzik. The two best characters from the Princess Bride. And the former is a nickname I gave to some guy... but I forget who.

9. Feng Shui. A practice I'm starting to consider... because my chi is definitely needing some flow. Will the feng shui club please stop rearranging the school lawn furniture?

10. Fo' shizzle. Because I was an 80s girl who walked around saying, "For sure!" in my little fakey-Valley girl accent... and I need a change. Oh, I know... it's very five minutes years ago, but that's just the kind of thing I like to do to throw off the voices in my your head.

Hey! Wha' Happened???

Have you ever been so busy, that if one more person started talking to you while you were busy answering email/ planning meetings/ preparing a presentation/ thinking about kids' schedules/ racing to a meeting, your head would literally explode?

Yeah. Me, too. In fact... I think that's where I've been the last six weeks. Here's an example of conversations I've had during that time:


Me (on or about April 27): Ummm... what the hell happened to April?
Colleague: I don't know. Just disappeared I guess.
Someone in the background, eavesdropping on our conversation: Who's April? Nobody named April works here.

Me (today): Holy Hell! It's already the 10th!
Colleague: I know! Where is May going to?
Same someone in the background, still eavesdropping on our conversation: OH! So, last time, you guys were talking about the MONTHS, not a woman's name? I get it!
Me (dead serious): No, we're talking about the employees named April and May. They both just disappeared within the last 8 weeks, oddly enough, each 4 weeks after the other. Some deep, dark part of me wanted to add "Here's your sign" in a twangy Bill Engvall accent, but I just couldn't.

2nd Daughter (this evening... interrupting me as I'm on the phone and typing an email, plus attempting to plan dinner): Mom, can we talk about me going to a movie with my friends on Friday night and then also about my birthday party which we haven't planned yet and it's only 2 weeks and 2 days away?!?
Me: Don't talk. Please.
2nd Daughter: *huge, dramatic sigh*
Me (guilt-ridden): We'll start planning the party on Friday night after I get home from the banquet... maybe no to the movie. Talk to me tomorrow night when my brain will hopefully have stopped spinning.
2nd Daughter: Goodie! *skips off, tra la la la, to her room*
Me: What just happened? Did I say "yes" to something???!?!?


I have the afternoon off on Friday, so that will be a little bit of a break... but I honestly can't even think that far. Yet, it's not even 36 hours away.

On Saturday, I "get" to chaperone 150 teenagers to a vocal competition, and then 9 hours at an amusement park. AMUSEMENT park. Ah, the irony.

*sigh*

Does this suit me?

So, I'm back. And I can't blog about why I haven't posted since last Thursday... because that would break the 1st Commandment of Blogging. *hint, hint* Let it just be noted that, HOPEFULLY, there is a new opportunity awaiting me in the very near future.

I do have a rant, though! This place wouldn't be the same if I didn't have one, right?!?

So what is up with all the casual clothes anymore? I mean... I'm a jeans and sweatshirt kind of person. That's when I'm most comfortable. But I LOVE clothes, and I love dressing up. For work, I wear business attire. There used to be a great store where I could find affordable business attire, but they closed. Not because they weren't profitable... but because the parent company decided they wanted to discontinue "that line."

All I wanted was ONE new suit. A nice jacket. A nice skirt or maybe a sleek pair of pants. At 5'3" tall, pants are not always an easy option.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No one sells nice business suits anymore. At the suburban malls I frequent, apparently their main target demographics now are surfer kids and Ladies Who Lunch. Cabana wear. Flip flops and t-shirts. Cute, hippie-trippie skirts... but not suits. Oh, there were SOME suits of the polyester, 50ish woman looking sorta thing. But not good business suits.

I visited 12 stores before I found the ONE suit that fit and would work. And I paid much more than I wanted to, but didn't have an option.

So... that's my rant. Do we not want to outfit the young, STYLISH professional anymore? Are we all supposed to look like we live in the OC or are a Desperate Housewife? Arrrgh.

btw, I look kinda cute in my new suit. It's growing on me.