"Attention Morning People: Be Perky at Your Peril"*

Have I ever mentioned before that I hate mornings? Have I ever mentioned before that I hate Mondays? (Well, except those Mondays that are holidays. Those are okay). So, there's a double whammy for this morning. Gah.

I need to find a job that allows me to sleep in mornings and stay up later -- to about 2 or 3am. I didn't get to sleep in past 8:00 this entire weekend. Boooo!

I know I've posted before about morning people vs. night owl people (I'm just too lazy to dig back through the archives to find it). I'm going to say this again: morning people do not "GET" night owl people.

If one more person says to me, "Gee... I just don't understand why anyone would want to sleep in. I spring out of bed, ready to start my day. I'm so excited to have that morning time!"... I will have to throw my morning-wake-me-up-green-tea at them.

I respect that you love mornings. Please respect that I don't.

*This is printed on my new coffee/tea cup that I purchased at Hallmark this weekend. I'd say it fits me pretty well.

A "Dude, I'm SO bored" Friday Why Files...

I have to admit... I rarely blog while I'm at work. I don't usually have time. But today? *yawn* See my sidebar under "Learning..."

WHY #1: Why, upon hearing that Miss Whitney had filed for divorce from Bobby, did I wonder… “Hmmm. Will we ever hear her yell ‘KISSMYASS’ at anyone ever again? Or what about ‘Hell to the NO!’ Will she still be as crazy?”

WHY #2: Why is Ann Curry so DARN insightful?? While I was watching Meredith Viera’s debut on the Today show, Ann cut in with yet another astute observation:
“I really feel bad for the child because when parents divorce it can be very hard on the children,” noted Ann. Yep. That’s why she reports the news, folks.

Thanks to Kiana for the reminder email!!

WHY #3: Why don’t they show more of Tim Gunn on Project Runway? I mean, honestly! The guy is hi-LAR-ious! If you haven’t checked out his podcast, you need to. I love it when he cracks himself up on the podcast, and when he uses terms like “riotous cacophony.” Plain and simple... I love Tim Gunn.

WHY #4: Why is everyone in Britain in such a tizzy about the new Tories logo? So they paid £40,000 for the new scribbled tree that looks like a toddler drew it… and also a little like broccoli. Have you ever flown into Manchester? The trees do look a little like broccoli from the air.


WHY #5: Why, on nearly every web page I visit, do I find the Lowermybills.com ad with an animated couple “dancing” in front of a giant full moon? Have you seen this? They don’t actually look like they’re dancing. It’s almost a little obscene. Call me dirty-minded… but EEEEK. Okay, maybe the female animation isn’t that bad. But watch the male animation. It’s just a little creepy.

Oddly enough, if you go to their website, they don’t have that ad anywhere on their site.

And that concludes today’s Friday Why Files. Before you go, please enjoy the poignant stylings of someone who had a great influence in my life… Beaker from The Muppet Show.

Listen, do you want to know a secret...

Has anyone seen those new commercials for Secret deodorant? You know... "Share your Secret?"

The first one, where the daughter tells her mother, "Dad took me to get a tattoo." Mom's expression and reaction was pretty funny... so, I thought, Eh. These aren't so bad.

The one that was on today, though? One's secret is that she doesn't ever want children, and the other's is that she's 4 months pregnant.

Can anyone even understand these women? They're crying... they're talking in that high, dolphin frequency that women use when they're crying and trying to talk. Blech. Do I need this kind of emotional outburst from a commercial for deodorant?!?

I don't know... what do you think? Good? Bad?

And I've Never Been to Boston in the Fall*...

Thanks for all the nice comments while I was under the weather... you people are kewl. ;-)

Since I did go back to work today... which means I had to do today's work, plus everything I missed yesterday... my brain is a little dead. I don't have much for this bloggy thing here. So, we'll have to settle for a few observations I've made in the past couple of days:

1. There is a big (HUGE!) difference between "water-resistant" and "waterproof" when it comes to sitting at a football game for 4.5 hours in the rain. Big. Huge.

2. When you forget about how to keep your hands dry in the deluge, you notice that your skin actually becomes quite translucent, in addition to puckering around your fingertips. It's an odd look at best.

3. You realize that you are somewhat unkind after laughing at the idiots who wore white pants with their red shirts at the downpour, I mean, football game... the kind of red shirts that, when wet, will "bleed" onto anything white. Like white pants. Definitely unkind. Still funny, though.

4. When you are sick and all alone at home, you realize that it's okay to cry a little during a movie you thought was supposed to be all-funny-all-the-time, but turns out to be a total chick flick. Nobody saw those tears.

5. Thank you, whoever you are, for the invention of On Demand Digital Cable. I was not stuck watching the usual drivel that comprises daytime TV. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

6. Even if you don't eat a thing for 24 hours, the stomach flu doesn't care. Yeah... you're still making that trip, and you know exactly where it is.

7. When you're not feeling well, and your teenagers sing anything from the Silly Songs With Larry CD, one of those songs will make you smile. At first. Then you'll be cursing Larry and all the other Veggies for those damn songs that are now permanently stuck in your head!!! We're the pirates who don't do anything... Gah.

8. If you're so sick that you can't even sit at the computer to read a few blogs... you're going to get WAYYYYY behind. :-(

That's it. That's all I got.


*See number 7.

Blech...

I have the stomach flu... which means that I feel okay for an hour, then I feel like hell for two hours. Then I feel good for an hour. Then I feel like hell for two hours.

This has been my day so far.

Missing work vs. daytime TV?

Let's call it a draw. :-( At least I have On Demand.

The "Do I Really Want to Commit to this Weekly" Edition of Friday Why Files...

WHY #1: Why, after viewing pictures of Suri Cruise, did thoughts of Damien, The Omen child pop into my head? You know we can't talk about her father, though, right??? That breaks the rules on this blog. If you absolutely must refer to him, you must call him Tomas Crazy. Got it?

WHY #2: Why does a football team FALL one point in the rankings after beating a not-so-cupcake-ish team by 39 points? Especially while another team barely beats another kind-of-cupcake-ish team by only 7 points and is still rated higher. I'll tell you why... early season rankings in college football are a joke. Did anyone even watch the Notre Dame game? And they're still ranked as high as #4 in one poll. Puh-leeze.

WHY #3: Why... okay, some investigative reporters are jerks, but seriously? Why? This guy gets the hell beat out of him! If you're already being investigated for shady dealings, why would you assault some guy... ON CAMERA?!?!

WHY #4:

Why does this guy remind me of a big-mouth bass? And I don't even fish. I do like (not love) the Steelers, and I have nothing against Bill Cowher. I just can't watch him talk. Ever. Photo Credit: TSN Canada.

WHY #5: Ummm... yeah. I can't even describe this one without getting sick to my stomach. You'll just have to read it yourself. And I thought my gastro-noises were loud.

This concludes today's Friday Why Files. Maybe I should make these Saturday Why Files. Or Sunday Why Files. Friday seems to be a tough day to post. I don't know... what do you think?

Sweet Mother... it's DELICIOUS!

A few months ago, the Food Network was showing some contest where people were competing for a new Häagen-Dazs flavor. The Farm Boy and I watched it somewhat half-heartedly... we weren't really all that into it. At first.

The more we watched, the more we couldn't stop watching. It's kind of like that scene in Tommy Boy when the Carpenters song, Superstar,* comes on the radio... and neither Richard nor Tommy really wants to switch to another radio station. In the next scene, they're both singing their hearts out:

"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby!
You said you'd be coming back this way again maybe!
Baby, baby, baby, baby, awww baby!
I lo--oove you! I really do!"

Ah, but I digress. So, Farm Boy and I are watching this Häagen-Dazs show, both of us saying to the other that it would be okay if the other changed the channel... but not really meaning it.

The flavor that I wanted to win didn't win. Funny how I thought I'd know which flavor would be best... just by watching it on tv. Puh-leeze. I don't even remember which flavor I was rooting for.. it might have been cannoli, but I honestly don't even remember.

Anyway, as I was shopping yesterday, I walked past the ice cream aisle and noticed I was in the Häagen-Dazs section. I looked to see if the winning flavor was there... and it was. So, I thought, "what the hell. I'll buy it and try some."

The flavor is called Sticky Toffee Pudding.

And... Holy Frozen Mouth-Watering Delight, Batman! It's SCRUMPTIOUS. You should try it.

*I know, there are a lot of links in this one... but this one is a YouTube video of Karen Carpenter singing this song. If you can get past the 70s hair and dress... that girl could SING.

Words of Wisdom...

These are just some of the thoughts that passed through my brain the last couple of days. As usual, it's me being all haughty and know-it-all, but some things just need to be said (and, of course, I didn't actually say them when I had the chance):

1. Just because you, an adult woman, are ABLE to fit into the clothes teenagers wear, doesn't mean that you SHOULD. Oh, and if you are in your 60s and can't actually WALK in those spiky stilettos, just say no.

2. If you have more monthly debt than take-home pay, you should not splurge on something you want but do not need. Easier said than done, I know. But if you complain constantly about the fact that you have no money, and your credit history prevents you from making necessary purchases... don't splurge.

3. If you knew what you were getting into... don't complain about it after the fact.

4. Remember... 13 is a difficult age. It's even more difficult when you're the youngest one in the family. Cut her some slack every once in a while. Yes, she's annoying, but she's 13. That's her JOB.

5. Please don't drive like an arse. Yes, we see your big, shiny, yellow and black-striped monster truck with the over-sized tires and gleaming metal exhaust pipe. How could we not? Accelerating past us on a short road doing about 60 (in a 25 mph zone) is not making you look cool. It's making you look stupid.

6. Don't laugh at Andre Agassi and call him a crybaby. That standing ovation after a 21-year, very successful career would make you cry too. Besides, he earned it.

7. Be kind to each other. Yes, sarcasm can be funny... but let's just, for one day, be nice.


On another note... I am so sad about Steve Irwin. You can say what you want about his style... whether you agreed with it/liked it or not... but the man did SO much for wildlife conservation and education. What a loss. :-(

If you just skim through this post, please read #6...

1. My team plays today with their season opener. YAY!!!! I'm sooooo excited. I'm watching them on TV this afternoon (while eating two large orders of "The Works" nachos from the best Tex-Mex restaurant in the world), and then I'll be at the stadium for next week's game. Woot!

2. Something odd has happened to me. I have always been a die-hard football fan. It was burned into my soul from birth (my father had a lot to do with that). But, oddly enough, even though I'm very excited for my team to be playing... I can't stop getting excited for hockey season to start, too. Our local semi-pro team doesn't even start until October... but am I actually looking forward more to that than the football season? No, that would be blasphemy. (Shh... I think I might be, though!)

3. One of the singing groups my daughter is in sang for a midwest Red Hat Ladies convention this morning. Oh. My. God. I've never seen so much red and purple in one room. One of the boys whispered to me, "Holy cow. It's a cult!" That made me giggle a little.

4. I can't tell you the number of times this week that I've had a GREAT idea for a post. Usually, they come to me while I'm driving in my car or sitting through one of my countless, endless meetings. I never write them down or anything, and then they leave my brain just as quickly as they entered. So, just figure that I had at least three award-winning posts this week that I completely forgot about. Gah.

5. I didn't have any Friday files to post yesterday, plus I ran out of time to actually search for a few. They'll be back next week.

6. If you are in the states somewhere, and if you're not a regular Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon watcher, please consider surfing over to that station on your tube... watch a little... and also please consider donating. My family has been involved with the Muscular Dystrophy Association for a little over 30 years. My mom's best friend had a son with MD, and he just passed away last year. This will be the first time we watch the telethon since his passing... and while we know he's finally at peace and RUNNING around on cloud somewhere... it will still be a little bittersweet. MDA has made huge strides in the past 30 years, but they still need our support.

If you don't watch the telethon and would like to just donate, please go here:
MDA Online Donation Form.


Happy Labor Day Weekend! And for those of you who don't have a Labor Day on Monday, we'll be sure to drink a few margaritas for you while you're working. You can thank me later.

No big whoop...

I'm so mentally exhausted today, and I got nothin'. Soooooooo....

Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic.

The elbow, often nicknamed the "funny bone," is neither funny nor a bone. Discuss.

(...and don't go all haughty on me and try to tell me it IS a bone called the humerus, because the elbow is NOT the humerus. Look it up.)

Help! It's just TOO intellectually stimulating around here...

When my oldest daughter and I are being immature and attempting to throw "witty" (read here: not witty at all) retorts at each other, we often just repeat what the other says. Example:

Me: You're insane.
She: No, YOU'RE insane.
Me: No, you are.
She: No, YOU are!

We're just beacons of intellectual dialogue, aren't we?!?

The suckiest one she often uses is the "your mom" comeback, usually in a Kip Dynamite voice ("your mom goes to college"). It doesn't actually work for me, though. Example:

Me: Go away. You smell.
She: Your mom smells.
Me: No... YOUR mom, ummmmmm.... wait. That's me.
She: [laughing maniacally] I win, I win, I win!

I've been bested in verbal jousting by a 17-year-old. Gah. I should just give up.

Sometimes, when she's arguing with her little sister, the same kind of thing pops up. And it seems like I always end up the butt of the jokes!

She: Shutup. You don't know what you're talking about.
Little She: Yes, I do. You're the stupid one.
She: Your mom's the stupid one.
Little She: No, YOUR mom's the stupid one.
She: Your mom is MY mom, stupid.
Me: HEY! How did I get dragged into this argument?

Just to think... she'll be leaving for college in one year. I'm glad that I've prepared her to communicate with the outside world.

Please kindly fill in the blanks...

I have nothing today. So, I thought I'd learn more about you. Some other bloggers have had some very interesting responses to their fill in the blank posts, so here's a go at it. I'll add my answers to the first comment.

1. I watched/didn't watch the Emmy Awards because ____________.

2. The celebrity I would like to hear less about in the news right now is ________________.

3. The excuse Matthew Broderick should have used for breaking his collarbone (he fell off a horse in Ireland) is _______________.

4. I am most anticipating ______________.

5. Since Monday is an American holiday (Labor Day), I think I will _____________.

A Very Pissy Friday Why Files...

WHY #1: Why are we spending time studying this BS instead of looking for cures for diseases? Or better yet, men who believe this load of crap need a kick in the head.

WHY #2: Why doesn't anyone PROOF these days? "Oops! Confidential Applicant Information Printed on Law School Calendars" from Law.com.

WHY #3: Why did I laugh my arse off after viewing these pictures? I don't like to see dogs in costumes (well, maybe on Halloween). And my dogs only wear sweaters in the winter when they're really cold. Otherwise, no dressing dogs! But these pictures? Pretty darn funny! Spock and Count Pugula are my faves.

WHY #4: Why are the morning talk shows so enamored with viral videos? Check out this one on pancakes.

WHY #5: Why can't I remember when my last visit to Chipotle was? Oh, yeah. I can answer that. BECAUSE IT'S BEEN TOO DAMN LONG! Rawr.

WHY #6: Just... why? Find more strange pet ideas at http://www.realtechnews.com/posts/3417


This concludes today's Friday Why Files.

I hate pain...

Pain sucks. Other people's pain sucks worse. I can't stand to see other people hurt, because I can't do anything to make it better.

Gah.

Open letter to the sorry-ass parents behind me at dinner tonight...

Dear Sir and Madam:

First, before I go into any of this, I want you to know that I am a parent also. My children are all teenagers now, but I DO remember what it was like when they were little.

As my family and I entered the Italian eatery this evening, I took into account how surprisingly busy they were for a Tuesday evening. I took into account that there was only ONE booth left open in the entire restaurant, and I took into account how much my husband prefers to sit at booths. But more importantly, I took into account how that open booth backed up to yours. You with your young preschool-aged child and baby.

As I mentioned before, I recall what it was like to take my very young children out to eat. It's difficult, I know. You feel like you can't go anywhere, because someone is always screaming or whining or jumping up and down on the booths... I know. I KNOW.

However, here's what I know that you apparently do not: No matter how many times you threaten a 4-year-old (and subsequently do not follow through on those threats), said 4-year-old is not going to sit down and finish his dinner. Let's take a look at a few of your "gems" from this evening, shall we?

Your threats:

Joshua Bryan Hart (name changed to protect the not so innocent)! If you don't sit down right now, you're going into time out when we get home!

Joshua Bryan Hart! If you don't eat your dinner right now, you're not going to get a special treat!

Joshua Bryan Hart! That's it! No more going out to dinner with mommy and daddy. No more Applebee's! No more Outback! No more Taco Bell! I mean it!

Are we seeing a pattern here? Idle threats. None of the consequences/promised rewards are immediate enough for the child to actually do what you want him to do. Beyond that, those were only three of the threats you used this evening. For the sake of brevity, I just couldn't add anymore. After 10 or so of these threats, Joshua Bryan Hart figured out that you weren't going to do JACK SHIT to him, and he continued to do whatever the hell he wanted to do. Which, by the way, included poking me in the back, smacking me in the back of the head, and generally pissing me off. The Farm Boy was careful, lucky for me (or probably luckier for YOU), to do a pizza sauce check on the back of my cream-colored blouse. Because that would have meant WAR.

I don't care how cute your child is... if he is annoying the people in the next booth, you make him stop. If he doesn't stop, you take his little ass out of the booth and/or out of the restaurant until he can sit down and finish his dinner. If he can't (which many children his age can't, considering the average attention span of a 4-year-old), then you cut short your dinner, take what's left home in a take-out box, and you leave the restaurant. Yes, I know. That's inconVENient for you. I know. Do you know how I know? Because that's what I DID when my children were unable to behave.

And guess what? THEY LEARNED HOW TO BEHAVE. Amazing, isn't it? Now, they're not the bestest little girls in the whole wide world, but they know what will happen when they disobey. They know, and they make choices. If they make the wrong choices, they have consquences. Immediate consequences. And if that means I'm inconvenienced still after all these years, then so be it. I'm still a parent. And I would NEVER be so inconsiderate as to allow my children to bother someone else in a restaurant. Crying, shouting children... I'll put up with that. Jumping up and down, screaming, poking-me-in-the-back, annoying children, annoying parents... no.

Oh, and when Joshua Bryan Hart is 13, and still doing whatever the hell he wants, it's going to be a lot worse than not eating his dinner or poking the head of the lady in the next booth. I'm just sayin'.

Sincerely,
Grumpy K. Frump
aka The Lady in the booth behind you tonight who kept giving you that look that said, "Really? You're really going to continue threatening your child and not do ANYTHING? Do you see him poking me? Do you see my face? Does this look like a HAPPY face?" Yeah, that lady.

Incoherent babbling...

Apparently, I'm not supposed to be posting today. Do you want to know how I know that? Well, I'll tell you.

I've tried composing about three different posts today. All three ended up rambling and completely incoherent. I mistyped words and letters so much so, that I spent more time correcting what I had typed than anything else.

While looking away from the monitor and typing (something I like to think I can do), I noticed that I typed two paragraphs with my hands shifted over exactly one key... commas instead of m's, etc. I gave up trying to decipher the paragraph, as I can't recall where I left my last Fred's Fruity Pebble decoder ring.

Anyhoo, I'm obviously tired, brain dead, and not very funny today. If I've left you a comment in the last 24 hours, I'm sorry. It was probably really, really stupid.

I'll just leave you with this:

1. I'm adding two new features to my sidebar as add-ons to the previous lists I posted (what scared me and what made me smile). If you care, read on. If not, no big whoop.

2. Please, please, PLEASE cross your fingers that the Farm Boy takes me to Chipotle for dinner tonight. It's been too long, and it may also be the reason I'm brain dead. Burrito withdrawals can be very ugly. Trust me.

You make me soooo very happy....

Smile Makers:

1. Little Miss Sunshine... I love movies that don't follow the same-ol'-same-ol'.
2. When my clothes fit
3. Cheesecake
4. Little kids running and laughing on a playground
5. Belly laughs
6. Weekends
7. Getting presents
8. Watching someone open a present I put a lot of thought into buying/making
9. Dogs trying to keep their eyes open, like mine are right now
10. A good book
11. Reading a good book while drinking a cup of tea in a quiet place
12. Autumn
13. Shopping
14. Football season
15. A good hockey fight ( I can't believe that makes me smile... less than a year ago, I would have clucked my tongue disdainfully at anyone who said that.)
16. Going on a date with the Farm Boy... with no kids.
17. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings
18. Having money in the checking account at the end of the month, because I know I have been managing money carefully
19. Bloggy Friends
20. A check that arrives unexpectedly in the mail
21. Family outings when everyone is getting along
22. When people tell me how great, polite, funny, etc. our kids are
23. Real oatmeal...with raisins added
24. Wrinkles around my eyes and mouth... they're smile lines, and they make me smile more.
25. When my teenagers sometimes slip and call me "mommy"

There are more... but this is supposed to be a Grumpy blog. I don't want to get a rep for being all mushy and stuff. Blech.

Friday Why Files...now with more ammonium thioglycolate!

WHY #1: Why do I have a sick feeling that this guy is lying?

WHY #2: Why would anyone stiff the Girl Scouts for cookie payments? Gah.

WHY #3: Why haven't I tried this sooner?

WHY #4: Why is everyone judging this mom? I mean... c'mon! She was just being supportive to her son... as he shot someone. Now THAT'S some awesome parenting!*

WHY #5: Why am I blogging right now when I should be getting ready for work? Arrrgh!

WHY #6: Why did I spend half my life sporting a perm? No, I'm not posting pics. Well, maybe... if I can find one.

Happy Friday!

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

*Yes, this is me being sarcastic.

Things that make me go AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGHHHH!

Things that scare me…

1. people whose faces don’t move when they talk, scream, yell, etc.
2. wondering if I’ve adequately prepared my daughters for life as women
3. vomiting
4. what would happen if I ever have another anaphylactic attack
5. what my toes will look like in another 10 years*
6. disco music
7. the fact that I actually like SOME disco music
8. drivers who don’t know what they’re doing
9. drivers who only THINK they know what they’re doing
10. what the Farm Boy conceivably could have eaten to make him emit such horrific odors**
11. elevators
12. really looooonnnnggg, high escalators
13. heights in general
14. what’s hiding under my bed (no, not monsters… just all the CRAP that has been shoved under there. I don’t even want to know.)
15. smiling with spinach (or insert any food item here) in my teeth
16. looking stupid in general
17. eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor beans when you think you’re getting Jelly Belly’s (“earthworm” is quite a lovely surprise when you’re not expecting it)
18. most rodents
19. that leggings are “back in style”
20. my 20 year high school reunion in 9 months
21. that I’m too serious too much of the time- in real life, not in the blog
22. my [bad] temper
23. pain
24. other people’s pain
25. cancer

Oh, this list could go on and on and on… but maybe I’ll just stop here.

Wow. That’s a little depressing in spots, huh? Well, maybe tomorrow’s post should be a list of things that make me happy. :-)


*I think my feet are disproportionately large for my frame, because I am CONSTANTLY ramming them into objects on the floor. It’s either that, or I am rotten at judging distances. It couldn’t possibly be that I am just a huge klutz. No way.
The pinky toes on both of my feet have been stubbed, jammed, broken so many times, I’ve lost count. Most recently, I stubbed my right pinky toe into our bed frame and split my toe nail in two all the way to the quick. Owie! I cried. A lot. My toes will probably look like raw hamburger by the time I’m 40 or 50.

**Sorry, honey. I love you, though, no matter what you smell like.

The Man in Black is laughing his arse off...

I hate karaoke. No, I mean I DETEST it. Really. If you're a trained singer at all, you know what I'm talking about... and for those of you who aren't, you probably know, too. (see update below)

My grandpa is turning 80 this month, so we did the party thing yesterday. And guess what his wife had as a surprise for him? You guessed it. Karaoke. *groan*

So, here's the deal-- if your grandpa is proud that you can sing, you are morally, legally, and ethically bound to get your arse up on the cheesy little stage and sing karaoke. At risk of hurting an old man's feelings, you're just going to do it.

But it couldn't possibly be that simple, now could it? No. As you choose to sit in the back of the bar, wheezing from all the smoke and old people body odor, someone related to you is going to prod you forward. And that someone is your brother... who is also a singer... who, for some unknown reason actually LIKES karaoke*. And that little brother wants you to sing a duet with him. Fine.

Grandpa's favorite singer is Johnny Cash. Little brother says, "C'mon. Let's sing Jackson. It will be great!"

Do you know the lyrics to Jackson?

We got married in a fever,
hotter than a pepper sprout,
We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson,
Ever since the fire went out...

Not exactly the song I want to sing with my BROTHER. Eww.

I think I'm scarred for life. Oh, well. Happy B-day, Gramps.

UPDATE: lest anyone think me a singing snob, let me explain a little-- I taught vocal music. I'm all for encouraging people to sing, regardless of talent or ability. I don't care if you sing out of tune, as long as you're singing. What I hate about karaoke is that it brings out all those people who think they are the best singers in the world... you know who they are. They also show up for American Idol auditions. Whether they can carry a tune or not isn't the issue. It's all about the attitude. When you think you are God's gift to singing, but you're in a karaoke bar? You should just stop. If you put your name in the karaoke dj's basket more than twice a night so that everyone can revel in the glory that is your voice... you're either showing off (or as ludi says, "a complete tool") or you are a microphone hog. Either way, JUST STOP. And THAT's what I hate about karaoke.

*Here's why he likes karaoke: he can sing ANYTHING and sound great. The dude sings Elvis, and women throw underwear at him. It's quite sickening, yet strangely intriguing all at the same time.

Jim, Jake, Josh, Jaleel, Jehosephat, John Jacob Jingleheimer-schmidt

I'm just curious... what possesses people to name all their kids with the exact same initials?

I'm not complaining. I don't think it's stupid, either. I'm just curious.

The Farm Boy's family (all boys) have the exact same initials, first-middle-last, as their father. I just met a woman whose children all have the same initials she does.

I guess I'm curious, because I don't think I'm creative enough to find good names that all have the same first letter. If you're lucky enough to pick something easy like "J," then there are plenty of names.

And don't even get me started on the middle initial. Keeping the middle initial the same for all your kids almost always results in someone getting a middle name which will embarrass them throughout childhood. Plus, how would anyone know whose underwear was whose?!?! Ick.

Okay... if you're only going to have 2 or 3 kids, I guess I can see how that wouldn't be so difficult. But when it starts getting up to 5 or more, yikes! And then there's the famous Dugger family with 16 kids... all with the same first initial. Gah. Pretty soon, you're just making up names or working with some pretty wacky spellings. Admit it.

In my family, all our names start differently. We noted a strange coincidence after my little bro was born... we all had exactly the same number of letters total in our first and middle names. Mom & Dad didn't do that purposefully, though. It just kinda happened.

So, as I said before... I'm just curious. Anyone care to shed some light on the subject?

Un petit Friday Why Files...

The only WHY that I have today is this...

Why does one bunch of crazies feel the need to make life difficult for the rest? If I am an infidel, and I never speak to you, why is it necessary to kill me? Or at the very least, why do they (the crazies) feel it necessary to PREVENT ME FROM CARRYING MY TOILETRIES ON THE AIRPLANE?!?!?!

I understand the items that were previously banned: box cutters, sharp tools, firearms... okay, I get it. They're dangerous.

But now some deranged individuals are preventing me from carrying on a bag holding my shampoo. And hair gel. And bottle of water that keeps me hydrated on those long, dried out flights. And my iPOD. OHMIGOD! Do you know how I am able to calmly make it through a flight? I'm scared to death of heights, and flying is not my bag, baby. My iPod is the one thing that provides serenity now as I am taking off and landing. THE ONLY THING.

PLUS, now that we're all going to be checking MORE baggage, the percentage of lost luggage is going to increase exponentially. *sigh* Not only will I lose the clothes I check... but now, all my [not cheap] toiletries, too. Seriously... $25 a bottle for Volumizing Root Lifter! Grrrrrr!

I will comply, of course, because I am a law-abiding citizen. I am not a nutjob radical who feels the need to blow up other people who do not subscribe to my particular beliefs.

Sorry... I have no sympathy/empathy for any person who believes that their "god" tells them to kill other people in the name of said "god." And I'm peeved now that I can't take my NORMALLY harmless stuff with me on the plane. Pretty soon, we'll all have to fly naked because threads in clothes could be dangerous. Or a pebble in your shoe. Or that flake of mascara on your eyelashes. Good god, I might even have to fly with an unmade face. Now, that's just plain scary.

END OF RANT.

Oh, and this concludes today's Friday Why Files.

Happy 200 to The Grump...

This is my 200th post. I don't actually pay attention to how many posts I have... I just hammer away at ye olde keyboard with little thought involved.

However, today, I saw that my post count was sitting at 199.

So, there it is.

If you do any searches on the number 200, you will find some 'interesting' facts:

*While playing Monopoly, you collect $200 every time you pass Go.

*Two to the third power multiplied by Five to the 2nd power is 200.

*In binary code, the number 200 is represented by 11001000.

*C200.org is a group of professional business women.

*When I was a high school photographer, we often used 200 speed film.

*200 Cigarettes is a movie with about 200 well-known stars. Okay, well, I'm exaggerating there... but seriously. Check out the cast.

*Bowhead whales can live to be almost 200 years old.


So, it's not a bicentennial or anything, but I'm going to celebrate anyway. Start up the blenders... it's Margarita Time!

Must.Find.Time.To.Blog.

I feel like I'm neglecting something. Or someone. Yeesh.

Guinness Girl tagged me, so here we go....

One book that changed your life?
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume. Only because I was a budding adolescent and extremely naive. It was written shortly after I was born, and by the time I was around 5th or 6th grade, it already had THAT reputation. A lot of parents wanted it pulled out of the school library (puh-leeze!). I do think I learned a lot the day I finished that book, though, and I'm really glad the school and my parents objected to the attempted censorship.

One book you have read more than once?
Hmmm... I don't really ever read books more than once. I can watch certain movies over and over again, but I can't do that with books... unless they're children's books. So, I guess I'd have to say The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein.

One book you would want on a desert island?
How To Survive Being Stranded on A Desert Island for Dummies. Oh, and Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey. And The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger. Very few books make my all-time favorites list... but this one is on it.

One book that made you laugh?
Too many to count. Most recently, anything by David Sedaris. LOVE. HIM.

One book that made you cry?
I cry a lot anyway, so many books make me weepy. Most recently, The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards.

One book you wish had been written?
How To Deal With Stress Without Causing Yourself Back Pain, Headaches, Over-Arching Irritability, As Well As How To Hide It From The People Around You Who Now Think You Are Either A Raving Lunatic Or An Incessantly Raging Bitch.

One book you wish had never been written?
Unfortunately, I've read a lot of lame books. Most recently, my biggest disappointments were Adriane On The Edge, by Paul Mandelbaum or Haunted, by Chuck Palahniuk. I think the latter was more of a disappointment, because I really do enjoy the rest of his work. This one was just disturbing with no point for making it disturbing... does that make sense? I don't know that I would wish them as "never been written" though. We'll just chalk them up to NOT GREAT in my opinion.

One book you are currently reading?
I literally just closed Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen. I love, love, LOVE this book!! Next up, The Dive From Clausen's Pier, by Ann Packer.

One book you have been meaning to read?
One? ONE? My queue is so long, it's embarrassing. There are some that I have had on my list for three years or longer, but keep getting pushed down for some reason or another. I couldn't possibly pick one.

Now tag five people.
Do I have to? Here's what I think... if you want to do this and haven't already, go for it. Just let me know that you have so I can come read yours. :-)

My week from hell is over...

Busiest work week of the entire year has now ended. I can breathe a sigh of relief. *SIGH!*

Things I have learned from this experience, but are not so specific as to be an actual post about work:

1. I must find shoes that are stylish, yet comfortable enough in which to stand and walk considerable distances... for 10 to 12 hours at a time. My shoes suck, but they're cute. I still can't feel my toes today.

2. Do not refer to recently graduated college students as "kids" in your anecodotal references... because several people in your audience have also just graduated from college 3 months ago. Bad form.

3. After a 14 hour workday, do not, under any circumstances allow yourself to parent. In this one case, ask the Farm Boy to step in and make decisions. This will prevent you from screaming on the phone at your child over a simple request. It will also prevent the resulting guilt over said screaming incident.

4. Do not assume that other presenters you have recruited will know that they should dress professionally. Even though it should be a well-founded assumption, it is no longer something you CAN assume.

5. When casual-guy presenter arrives in an old t-shirt and shorts, do not allow your mouth to hang open in surprise and shock... thus rendering you speechless. It's not a good look for you.

6. When people ask you "How are things going today?"... it might be better to do something rather than groan, roll your eyes, or fall down in front of them to communicate your worn-outedness. Next time, just say, "Great!"

7. Invest in super-duper strength eye concealer, because yours failed miserably, thus producing a meth-head, crack whore look for you on your biggest day of the year.

8. Don't waste another second worrying about how bad your hair looked yesterday. It's a lost cause.

9. When the Farm Boy suggests going out to dinner after your biggest work day of the year... to celebrate it being over... take a rain check. Falling asleep in your cheese fondue ALSO is not a good look for you.

10. Don't cry (publicly) when you remember you're going to go through this all over again next year.


GG- my next post will be your TAG. :-)

I'll just head back to the Bog of Eternal Stench*...

I feel like a troll.

[Warning... there's a whine coming on]

I'm still not at a weight where I'm comfortable... I've only lost about 2-5 lbs total since my last whinefest about my weight**. I say 2-5, because I lose a little and gain a little constantly week after week. My weight fluctuates more than the stock market. Or the temperature in the midwest. (yeah, those are all really lame comparisons. I don't care.)

I'm not worried about looking hot and sexy... we already covered that. I just want my clothes to fit, and I don't want to be self-conscious about whether there are visible rolls or not when I sit down.

I am part of a small department that is comprised of two other women and myself. They are both about 5' 10", and very physically fit. I'm 5' 3", and not so much. Not so much at all. One is about 5 years younger, and the other is exactly the same age I am.

So, this is the time of the year when we have to do a lot of presenting and facilitating and coordinating and making ourselves very visible.... together. They, in their sleek skirts or pants and sleeveless tops with no jiggly arm fat, and I in my... hmmmm... do I look fat in this shirt? Sure, I'll just wear a jacket in 100 degree heat to hide my white, pasty, not so firm upper arms. Please don't stand on either side of me so that it's even more pronounced how troll-like I appear in comparison!!! GAH!

Sorry. I lost my composure a little bit there.

I hate being insecure. You'll have to excuse me now... I'll be on the treadmill all night. Or maybe I'll just tuck myself into my bed and feel sorry for myself. :-(




*LOVE that movie!!!

**Sorry, too lazy to find which post it's in. Besides, it's not worth reading two whines in one day, right?

By George, I think she's... addicted!

Thanks to Whoorl, I am now addicted to a game. Unlike Whoorl, I have not been asked to stay off my feet because I am 38 weeks pregnant...where playing a game for hours at a time would be a good thing to take your mind off the fact that it's hot and you can't go anywhere (how's THAT for a run-on?!?!).

I'm not even pregnant at all! I just HAD to go and click on that link to see what the mystery game was all about. And now I'm hooked*. Oh, and I PAID to get hooked.

This is worse than crack. Or mothballs.



*I've made it past Master Detective status and am currently in the middle of the next level, called Prime Suspects. Someone just shoot me. If I hit Dungeon Master**, I beg of you... someone pry me away from the computer.

**No offense, D&D fiends. Well, maybe a little. Sorry.

The Return of the Friday Why Files…

WHY #1: Why am I hooked on Project Runway?? I didn’t watch the other two seasons while they were new. I’m not a huge fashionista, although I do love to watch What Not to Wear on TLC. I’m a Stacy-wannabe… and I have been tempted more than once to distribute fashion police tickets. No one, and I mean NO ONE, regardless of size, should ever ever wear white, see-through spandex. And especially not to work.

Anyway, I rather enjoy watching Project Runway. It’s the one reality show where I feel the results are truly based on talent. Sure, everyone can have a bad day and blow it (hello, Melan), but them’s the breaks.


WHY #2: Another teacher… another kid. *sigh*


WHY #3: An April Fool’s Joke turns into a World Strip Poker Championship. Eww. Have you SEEN the people who play on the World Series of Poker? Naked Phil Hellmuth? No thanks.


WHY #4: Now we’re huffing mothballs? I think I’m at a loss for words. Seriously.

Here’s the thing about me… I joke about needing a good stiff drink… or 10. But honestly, I’m a total lightweight. Have been for about 10 years now. In college, I could drink a lot and not get very drunk. But I did that for about 3 or 4 months and then decided it was a total waste of my time. I just don't drink that much... it doesn't bother me that other people do. I just don't.

While I was in that stage in college, though, I only drank stuff I liked. I hate beer. I will not force myself to drink beer just to get buzzed. Sure, I drank some truly cheap-o stuff (Mad Dogg 20/20 for one)… but it tasted okay. I can’t even stand the smell of beer, so I’m not going to drink it. So, basically, I don’t need a buzz so bad that I will imbibe (or inhale) something that I don’t like.

That’s why this one is so completely unfathomable to me. Mothballs? Ewww. They smell soooooo nasty! The girl in this newsstory even “chewed half a mothball a day for two months.” Excuse me. I just threw up a little.

And that concludes today's Friday Why Files. It's good to be back.

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.)