It's true. Sometimes I actually say stupid things. There truly is no filter between my brain and my mouth. I'm often not fit for social outings, depending on my mood. My husband frequently cringes at these outings. This is exacerbated when alcohol is involved. I'll give several examples.
1. I saw a friend of mine recently at the library and she had just had a baby. I ask what the baby's name is. She tells me, "Otto". Without hesitation, I say the first thing that comes to mind, which is, "that'll work out great if he ends up being dyslexic". There were so many other options of things to say in this circumstance, but of course, I have to reference a learning disability.
2. I went to a neighbors house for a gathering and about 4 years ago, my husband and I actually looked at this house when it was for sale. So, I mention this to the owner (my friend) and I say to her, "Jason and I looked at this house.....but we couldn't get past the kitchen". Really? Really? I just said that outloud?
3. I was at my sister's wedding when I was 16 years old. I was as drunk as a skunk and dancing very slutasticly and seductively around the best man, who was probably, oh, in his mid 30's, perhaps. My mom decided it was time for me to go nighty night and began dragging me out of the reception. On the way out, I saw the best man and surrepticiously tried to slide him my room key. I was staying in the same room with my mom and stepdad. Smooth!! Thankfully, he let me down easy.
4. Not being much of a church goer, I began going to church with my husband early into our relationship. It was Easter Sunday and as we entered the sanctuary, the Pastor was handing out nails. I was intrigued. My husband explained that it was to symbolize nailing our sins to the cross. I said to the Pastor, "I'm definitely going to need more than one nail". Funny right? I kill me.
5. To my African American friend who just told me about her sister in Atlanta: "Oh, I have a black friend in Atlanta, ask your sister if she knows her".
6. At a neighbor's house....we aren't particularly close, I'm drinking wine and she tells me to be careful because the glasses are real crystal. I say to her, "oh, that's ok because I'm totally fake, so they'll cancel each other out". (what??)
7. Again, not much of a church goer.....it's Christmas eve and I'm with my future in-laws, whose family is very conservative and Christian. Jason's grandfather has all of his great grandchildren gathered around him as he starts his story, "OK, whose birthday are we celebrating today".... I am trying to dazzle these people whom I will soon call family and I even impress myself by knowing the answer to this one. I answer very confidently and truth be told, I was pretty smug about the whole thing and I say, "Oh, I know this one...Aunt Anita". Jason cringes and quietly whispers, "nope, that would be Jesus. It's Jesus birthday that we're celebrating, honey". Ooooh, right....He is the reason for the season, after all.... But, I did score brownie points for knowing Aunt Anita's birthday.
There are so many more...I could add to this list, at least daily. Chew on these for a while and then we'll revisit at a later date.
Au Revoir!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
more stupid things my husband says
He makes so many stupid jokes/comments, etc... I don't EVEN have the strawn-th to recollect every single one of them, but here are a few of his greatest hits.
1. Me: I feel so lethargic, I think I need some protein. Jason: I've got some protein for you. (there are many, many, many variations to this comment----basically anything with the words, hard, taste, box, cans, stick, in, bend, deep, choke, gag, mouth, facial, pearls, hand, finger, fist or come will elicit a 4th grade response).
2. Jason: Honey, have you seen my shoes? Me: Gee, have you checked the shoe closet. (He asks me if I've seen his Tiger's hat, wallet, keys, Tiger's jersey, etc at least hourly---it might be my biggest pet peeve because he won't LOOK for any of these items). I will usually tell him that my uterus is not his personal tracking device.
3. What state is Delaware in? I almost visited an attorney that day.
4. Me, folding piles and piles of clean clothes, fresh out of the dryer. Jason: Well, what do you have going on here???? Me: I was folding clothes, but now I'm answering obvious questions.
5. Me, starting the dishwasher and turning on the light above the stove (the tell tale sign that the kitchen is clean and closed). Jason: Ok, what do you need help with?
6. (Upon my returning home from the store) Jason: Do you have any change for me? (isn't he adorable)?
7. Are you hungry? (Is the pope Catholic)?
8. Pregnant with my firstborn, we're discussing potential boy names Jason: How about Vito .....no? Then, how about Victor? Donovan? Again, I almost visited an attorney that afternoon.
9. He calls home from work in the middle of the day......Jason: Whatcha doin' honey, watching Oprah? Ooooh, them are fightin' words!
10. We were finishing our basement and discussing what furniture would go where. He sets up the pub table and bar stools and declares that this will be where my "Ladies of the Month" club will take place. What exactly does he think I do all day? For the record, I'm in no such club. Actually, this story isn't so much stupid as it is cute.
1. Me: I feel so lethargic, I think I need some protein. Jason: I've got some protein for you. (there are many, many, many variations to this comment----basically anything with the words, hard, taste, box, cans, stick, in, bend, deep, choke, gag, mouth, facial, pearls, hand, finger, fist or come will elicit a 4th grade response).
2. Jason: Honey, have you seen my shoes? Me: Gee, have you checked the shoe closet. (He asks me if I've seen his Tiger's hat, wallet, keys, Tiger's jersey, etc at least hourly---it might be my biggest pet peeve because he won't LOOK for any of these items). I will usually tell him that my uterus is not his personal tracking device.
3. What state is Delaware in? I almost visited an attorney that day.
4. Me, folding piles and piles of clean clothes, fresh out of the dryer. Jason: Well, what do you have going on here???? Me: I was folding clothes, but now I'm answering obvious questions.
5. Me, starting the dishwasher and turning on the light above the stove (the tell tale sign that the kitchen is clean and closed). Jason: Ok, what do you need help with?
6. (Upon my returning home from the store) Jason: Do you have any change for me? (isn't he adorable)?
7. Are you hungry? (Is the pope Catholic)?
8. Pregnant with my firstborn, we're discussing potential boy names Jason: How about Vito .....no? Then, how about Victor? Donovan? Again, I almost visited an attorney that afternoon.
9. He calls home from work in the middle of the day......Jason: Whatcha doin' honey, watching Oprah? Ooooh, them are fightin' words!
10. We were finishing our basement and discussing what furniture would go where. He sets up the pub table and bar stools and declares that this will be where my "Ladies of the Month" club will take place. What exactly does he think I do all day? For the record, I'm in no such club. Actually, this story isn't so much stupid as it is cute.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
helen's homecoming
Our mother passed away almost 5 years ago. It was sudden but not terribly surprising since she'd been giving away her worldly possessions since her 42nd birthday. I personally think she willed herself sick. It was no secret that her gene pool was riddled with cancer and heart disease. Deep down she knew that she wouldn't live a long life, but I wonder if she'd had a more positive outlook on life, if she'd have lived longer. Instead, she was content being depressed and morbid.
There's another factor here. Her husband, Jack (our step father) was 20 years her senior. Although their age difference was vast, I never once imagined her as the widow---somehow, I always knew she'd be the one to leave this earth before him. He aged her. She liked pretending they were the same age. She would say ridiculous things like, "We can't keep up like we used to..." The fact of the matter was, he was (is) incredibly spry for his age and he continued to run circles around here. Even when she was 55 and he was 75. It was irritating to me that she acted much older than she was, I had little patience for her.
She and Jack moved out of state when I was 17. When they'd come back for holidays or a long weekend. I'd put so much pressure on the visit and I'd have overly high expectations. Disappointment would ultimately ensue. I'd expect that our visit would be similar to all of my other friends whose parents would come for a visit. There would be shopping, there would lots of laughs and cooking of the favorite meals and pouring over photo albums, etc. etc. In reality it would be more like this: Jack would get diarrhea and/or a mysterious insect bite, or a cold, or a broken tooth...and they'd either have to spend the weekend in Urgent Care, or they'd just make the 18 hour trek back home again. From time to time Jack would escape illness and tragedy, but I'd still be let down because then something else would inevitably happen, like mom would get into one of her moods because my phone would ring too many times during dinner, or I'd suggest we do something else besides watch tv and eat chocolate covered raisins, she'd roll her eyes and they'd be on the road by 6 AM the next morning. Happened everytime. Or more commonly, she'd pay too much attention to one of my sisters and I'd get my overly sensitive feelings hurt and we'd get into a fight.
This is just the way my relationship with with my mom. I'd like to look back on our 29 years together and remember them differently, but it is what it is. I don't doubt for one single second that she loved me. I know she did, but often, I was fairly certain that she didn't like me. She didn't 'get me' and that was fine, a lot of people don't get me. I loved her, she loved me, I miss her, I miss her essence, I miss her sense of humor, I miss having a mom, I miss all the good stuff.
Fast forward to April 2008. Jack calls me (I'm going to write this dialogue phonetically as Jack has an old NY accent and the story is much more entertaining if you read it with a New York accent---also, he yells when he talks):
Jack: (on my voicemail) HA-NEE, HI, IT'S JACK. LISTEN HA-NEE, I'M ALMOST 84 AND IF ANYTHING SHOULD HAPPEN TO ME, I DON'T WANT HELEN'S ASHES GETTING MISPLACED, SO I'M SENDING THEM TO YOU. KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THE KIDS...HEH HEH HEH
(next message) HA-NEE, HI, IT'S JACK. I WENT TO THE POST OFFICE AND THEY WON'T LET ME MAIL OUT YA MUTHA'S REMAINS. I'LL KEEP YOU POSTED.
(next message) HI HA-NEE, I WENT TO THE FUNERAL HOME WHERE WE HAD YA MUTHA'S SERVICE AND THEY TOOK CARE OF HER REMAINS---THEY SHIPPED THEM OUT IN AN AIR TIGHT CONTAINER AND SHE SHOULD BE THERE IN A FEW DAYS.
(next message) HI HA-NEE, I'M WONDERING IF YA MUTHA HAS ARRIVED YET. IT'S BEEN A FEW DAYS AND I HAVEN'T HEARD ANYTHING. I HOPE SHE'S NOT LOST IN THE MAIL AND ENDED UP GETTING RE-ROUTED TO EGYPT OR SOMETHING, HEH HEH HEH.... OH SHE'D LOVE THAT, WOULDN'T SHE DOLLY?
Leading up to that week, I was a wreck. Everytime I heard the UPS truck, I just about threw up in my mouth. I was scared. Of what? I don't know. I deal with death perfectly fine, it's "the dead" that I don't do well with. So, I'm driving home from running errands with the kids after about a week since Jack's original phone call and as I'm pulling up my driveway, I saw a big package hanging from my storm door. I threw the car in reverse and bee-lined down the street. I just kept driving up and down the street until I had the strawn-th to deal with what was waiting for me at home. I finally went home and as I approach the infamous package, I noticed it was from the shoe store where I ordered some wedges online. I had to laugh.
Two days after that, I was running errands downtown with the boys and it was getting close to nap time, so I took them home. I retrieved the mail and there was a yellow notice from the post office stating that I had a certified package waiting for me at the post office. (gulp) Well, no sense going allll the way back to the post office now, she's been traveling all week, surely she can wait until after her grandsons take their naps. So, Lee calls during naptime and I told her that mom was at the post office waiting for me. Picture me sitting on my couch, legs crossed out in front of me, filing my nails, phone tucked under my chin, chocolates next to me.... personifying this whole 'lady of luxury' scene while my mother waits to be picked up from the post office. Lee said to me, half joking, "you. are. the. worst. daughter. ever---GO PICK HER UP'. We were dying. We pictured her standing there, standing on one leg, with one foot propped up on her other ankle, arms crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes, shaking her head, FUMING...and muttering about her youngest daughter being unresponsible and unreliable... Oh, we had great fun at mom's expense that day.
I did arrive at the post office 3 minutes before they closed that day. I had to sign for her and everything. Very official, mind you. My legs got all weak and wobbly walking to the car. I had a hard time accepting the fact that I was carrying my mother's remains. The boys were in the back seat freaking out because they thought they got a present in the mail. "mom, what is it, what is it...is it for me...what is it....who's it from".... I just ignored them. I didn't have the strawn-th to explain the whole cremation process to them.
After I brought her box o' bones home, I wandered through the house for hours wondering where to put her. Not one single place in the house seemed appropriate for her final resting place. So, 9 weeks later, she's still sitting atop my dresser and often the kids will stack their night-night books on her as if to say, "grammy, read to me". I'm sure she wouldn't have it any other way.
So, the moral of the story is, if you have a difficult & complicated relationship with your mother, talk to her about her dying wishes, or else she could end up living with her least favorite daughter, collecting dust on top of a dresser.
There's another factor here. Her husband, Jack (our step father) was 20 years her senior. Although their age difference was vast, I never once imagined her as the widow---somehow, I always knew she'd be the one to leave this earth before him. He aged her. She liked pretending they were the same age. She would say ridiculous things like, "We can't keep up like we used to..." The fact of the matter was, he was (is) incredibly spry for his age and he continued to run circles around here. Even when she was 55 and he was 75. It was irritating to me that she acted much older than she was, I had little patience for her.
She and Jack moved out of state when I was 17. When they'd come back for holidays or a long weekend. I'd put so much pressure on the visit and I'd have overly high expectations. Disappointment would ultimately ensue. I'd expect that our visit would be similar to all of my other friends whose parents would come for a visit. There would be shopping, there would lots of laughs and cooking of the favorite meals and pouring over photo albums, etc. etc. In reality it would be more like this: Jack would get diarrhea and/or a mysterious insect bite, or a cold, or a broken tooth...and they'd either have to spend the weekend in Urgent Care, or they'd just make the 18 hour trek back home again. From time to time Jack would escape illness and tragedy, but I'd still be let down because then something else would inevitably happen, like mom would get into one of her moods because my phone would ring too many times during dinner, or I'd suggest we do something else besides watch tv and eat chocolate covered raisins, she'd roll her eyes and they'd be on the road by 6 AM the next morning. Happened everytime. Or more commonly, she'd pay too much attention to one of my sisters and I'd get my overly sensitive feelings hurt and we'd get into a fight.
This is just the way my relationship with with my mom. I'd like to look back on our 29 years together and remember them differently, but it is what it is. I don't doubt for one single second that she loved me. I know she did, but often, I was fairly certain that she didn't like me. She didn't 'get me' and that was fine, a lot of people don't get me. I loved her, she loved me, I miss her, I miss her essence, I miss her sense of humor, I miss having a mom, I miss all the good stuff.
Fast forward to April 2008. Jack calls me (I'm going to write this dialogue phonetically as Jack has an old NY accent and the story is much more entertaining if you read it with a New York accent---also, he yells when he talks):
Jack: (on my voicemail) HA-NEE, HI, IT'S JACK. LISTEN HA-NEE, I'M ALMOST 84 AND IF ANYTHING SHOULD HAPPEN TO ME, I DON'T WANT HELEN'S ASHES GETTING MISPLACED, SO I'M SENDING THEM TO YOU. KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THE KIDS...HEH HEH HEH
(next message) HA-NEE, HI, IT'S JACK. I WENT TO THE POST OFFICE AND THEY WON'T LET ME MAIL OUT YA MUTHA'S REMAINS. I'LL KEEP YOU POSTED.
(next message) HI HA-NEE, I WENT TO THE FUNERAL HOME WHERE WE HAD YA MUTHA'S SERVICE AND THEY TOOK CARE OF HER REMAINS---THEY SHIPPED THEM OUT IN AN AIR TIGHT CONTAINER AND SHE SHOULD BE THERE IN A FEW DAYS.
(next message) HI HA-NEE, I'M WONDERING IF YA MUTHA HAS ARRIVED YET. IT'S BEEN A FEW DAYS AND I HAVEN'T HEARD ANYTHING. I HOPE SHE'S NOT LOST IN THE MAIL AND ENDED UP GETTING RE-ROUTED TO EGYPT OR SOMETHING, HEH HEH HEH.... OH SHE'D LOVE THAT, WOULDN'T SHE DOLLY?
Leading up to that week, I was a wreck. Everytime I heard the UPS truck, I just about threw up in my mouth. I was scared. Of what? I don't know. I deal with death perfectly fine, it's "the dead" that I don't do well with. So, I'm driving home from running errands with the kids after about a week since Jack's original phone call and as I'm pulling up my driveway, I saw a big package hanging from my storm door. I threw the car in reverse and bee-lined down the street. I just kept driving up and down the street until I had the strawn-th to deal with what was waiting for me at home. I finally went home and as I approach the infamous package, I noticed it was from the shoe store where I ordered some wedges online. I had to laugh.
Two days after that, I was running errands downtown with the boys and it was getting close to nap time, so I took them home. I retrieved the mail and there was a yellow notice from the post office stating that I had a certified package waiting for me at the post office. (gulp) Well, no sense going allll the way back to the post office now, she's been traveling all week, surely she can wait until after her grandsons take their naps. So, Lee calls during naptime and I told her that mom was at the post office waiting for me. Picture me sitting on my couch, legs crossed out in front of me, filing my nails, phone tucked under my chin, chocolates next to me.... personifying this whole 'lady of luxury' scene while my mother waits to be picked up from the post office. Lee said to me, half joking, "you. are. the. worst. daughter. ever---GO PICK HER UP'. We were dying. We pictured her standing there, standing on one leg, with one foot propped up on her other ankle, arms crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes, shaking her head, FUMING...and muttering about her youngest daughter being unresponsible and unreliable... Oh, we had great fun at mom's expense that day.
I did arrive at the post office 3 minutes before they closed that day. I had to sign for her and everything. Very official, mind you. My legs got all weak and wobbly walking to the car. I had a hard time accepting the fact that I was carrying my mother's remains. The boys were in the back seat freaking out because they thought they got a present in the mail. "mom, what is it, what is it...is it for me...what is it....who's it from".... I just ignored them. I didn't have the strawn-th to explain the whole cremation process to them.
After I brought her box o' bones home, I wandered through the house for hours wondering where to put her. Not one single place in the house seemed appropriate for her final resting place. So, 9 weeks later, she's still sitting atop my dresser and often the kids will stack their night-night books on her as if to say, "grammy, read to me". I'm sure she wouldn't have it any other way.
So, the moral of the story is, if you have a difficult & complicated relationship with your mother, talk to her about her dying wishes, or else she could end up living with her least favorite daughter, collecting dust on top of a dresser.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
People we LOVE
See...we're not always mean and hateful, sometimes we're very loving.
1. People who card us. This doesn't happen often, at all... but when it does, I want to kiss that person. With tongue.
2. Pharmacists. We really don't show these people enough appreciation for their dedication. In fact, I'm going to google my pharmacist right now, find out where he lives and bring him a fruit bouquet. Grease his palm a little, if you catch my drift, heh, heh, heh
3. Children who swear. There is nothing, I mean nothing more adorable than a child who properly uses a swear word in the right context. Ooooh, it's just darling!
4. Monica Lewinsky. This may puzzle you. People, she is famous for blowing the President of the United States of America. Get down with your bad self girl!
5. Miguel. Miguel worked at the Bugan Villas in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. I'm sure he started working there when he was 14 and he is now 65. My husband and I have stayed at this resort 3 times and I'll be damned if Miguel wasn't still standing there each time waiting to take our drink orders.
6. Kathy Griffin. She's not only funny (VERY FUNNY) but she throws popularity to the wind just for a good laugh. You've got to love her chutzpah. She offends everyone and couldn't care less. My personal mantra is "F&$K 'em if they can't take a joke". I think she shares the same mantra. She's my mostly companion---although she doesn't know it yet.
7. David & Amy Sedaris. He's queer, she's insane. We believe my mother gave them up for adoption some 40 years ago. His writings depict an extremely dysfunctional family, but he has the articulation to draw humor from it. (Obviously we love him) And Amy, well, she's just plain silly.
8. People who start sentences by saying, "You didn't hear this from me, but...." Oooooh, I just love this person!
9. People who think Lee is actually my mother. Hee heee. She'll kill me for that one, but it really does make me happy.
10. Chelsea Handler. She's sassy, she tells it like it is, she's sarcastic, she's intelligent. I want to be her.
1. People who card us. This doesn't happen often, at all... but when it does, I want to kiss that person. With tongue.
2. Pharmacists. We really don't show these people enough appreciation for their dedication. In fact, I'm going to google my pharmacist right now, find out where he lives and bring him a fruit bouquet. Grease his palm a little, if you catch my drift, heh, heh, heh
3. Children who swear. There is nothing, I mean nothing more adorable than a child who properly uses a swear word in the right context. Ooooh, it's just darling!
4. Monica Lewinsky. This may puzzle you. People, she is famous for blowing the President of the United States of America. Get down with your bad self girl!
5. Miguel. Miguel worked at the Bugan Villas in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. I'm sure he started working there when he was 14 and he is now 65. My husband and I have stayed at this resort 3 times and I'll be damned if Miguel wasn't still standing there each time waiting to take our drink orders.
6. Kathy Griffin. She's not only funny (VERY FUNNY) but she throws popularity to the wind just for a good laugh. You've got to love her chutzpah. She offends everyone and couldn't care less. My personal mantra is "F&$K 'em if they can't take a joke". I think she shares the same mantra. She's my mostly companion---although she doesn't know it yet.
7. David & Amy Sedaris. He's queer, she's insane. We believe my mother gave them up for adoption some 40 years ago. His writings depict an extremely dysfunctional family, but he has the articulation to draw humor from it. (Obviously we love him) And Amy, well, she's just plain silly.
8. People who start sentences by saying, "You didn't hear this from me, but...." Oooooh, I just love this person!
9. People who think Lee is actually my mother. Hee heee. She'll kill me for that one, but it really does make me happy.
10. Chelsea Handler. She's sassy, she tells it like it is, she's sarcastic, she's intelligent. I want to be her.
nothing says I don't give a SH*T quite like flowers.
Mother's Day is upon us. Oh joy. All these Hallmark commercials and advertisements just remind me that my family is thoughtless. Riddle me this. Why, why, why is it that on Father's Day, the husband gets to sleep in (after drinking himself silly the night before), then head out for a scheduled Tee time and then off to a watering hole to put throw back a few with the fellas before heading home for the proverbial Father's Day dinner.
While, on Mother's Day, we have to spend the whole God Forsaken day with our families? For Christ's sake, it would be a sin if we didn't. Can you imagine how this scenario would go down?
11:30 Mother's Day morning: Hi Kids, ooooh, thank you for the runny eggs and scribbled construction paper, you shouldn't have. Anyhoot, I'm off! I have a mani/pedi at noon, mimosas & lunch with Nancy after that, then we're going to an estate sale to browse antiques. If we have time after that, we're going to see a matinee. See you at dinner!!! And by the way, I'm in the mood for a grilled chicken salad tonight!
Their mouths would all be hanging open and their eyes would just be going, blink, blink, blink.... You'd hear nothing but crickets....
No, no, it's more like this: Guilt gets the better of you and you roll out of bed begrudgingly around 9 AM. The husband & kids mumble 'happy mother's day' while shoving handmade cards in your face. You, of course, have to ooooh and aahhhh over them because you wouldn't want to break their little spirits. Now, mind you, you've envisioned your mother's day gift for weeks. You've dropped enough hints about a Roomba, Cuisinart or new iPod for weeks, he's a flipping idiot if he didn't pick up on the subtle hints (I left a Pandora catalog next to the toilet). So, back to Mother's Day morning, on the kitchen table, next to the too-strong coffee & soggy english muffin is a bouquet of flowers. Your enthusiasm deflates like a balloon and you want to go back to bed, immediately. Your husband will say things like, "Do you like them...don't you like the flowers....the kids helped me pick them out....you like purple, right...???? ". You somehow have to act like it's all you've ever wanted. A friggin' bouquet of flowers. Wow, you really put some thought into that, didn't you? Then you turn on the tv and all you see are Zales commercials with men giving their wives diamonds and by doing so telling her, "I'd marry you all over again"... (sigh)
Nothing says 'I don't give a SH*T' quite like flowers. So, to all you mommies out there whose husbands are thoughtless and a tad stupid, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY---GO BUY SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR YOURSELF---and when your husband questions your purchase, tell him to go *&%$$& himself.
xoxoxo
****side note: the husband described in this blog in NO WAY reflects my husband, but is dedicated to all of you ladies who are married to , shall we say, thoughtfully challenged men. I know too many of them and was smart enough to train mine early on. As I sit here and stare at my new Pandora charms & Ed Hardy shirt, I'm rather pleased with myself...and him!
While, on Mother's Day, we have to spend the whole God Forsaken day with our families? For Christ's sake, it would be a sin if we didn't. Can you imagine how this scenario would go down?
11:30 Mother's Day morning: Hi Kids, ooooh, thank you for the runny eggs and scribbled construction paper, you shouldn't have. Anyhoot, I'm off! I have a mani/pedi at noon, mimosas & lunch with Nancy after that, then we're going to an estate sale to browse antiques. If we have time after that, we're going to see a matinee. See you at dinner!!! And by the way, I'm in the mood for a grilled chicken salad tonight!
Their mouths would all be hanging open and their eyes would just be going, blink, blink, blink.... You'd hear nothing but crickets....
No, no, it's more like this: Guilt gets the better of you and you roll out of bed begrudgingly around 9 AM. The husband & kids mumble 'happy mother's day' while shoving handmade cards in your face. You, of course, have to ooooh and aahhhh over them because you wouldn't want to break their little spirits. Now, mind you, you've envisioned your mother's day gift for weeks. You've dropped enough hints about a Roomba, Cuisinart or new iPod for weeks, he's a flipping idiot if he didn't pick up on the subtle hints (I left a Pandora catalog next to the toilet). So, back to Mother's Day morning, on the kitchen table, next to the too-strong coffee & soggy english muffin is a bouquet of flowers. Your enthusiasm deflates like a balloon and you want to go back to bed, immediately. Your husband will say things like, "Do you like them...don't you like the flowers....the kids helped me pick them out....you like purple, right...???? ". You somehow have to act like it's all you've ever wanted. A friggin' bouquet of flowers. Wow, you really put some thought into that, didn't you? Then you turn on the tv and all you see are Zales commercials with men giving their wives diamonds and by doing so telling her, "I'd marry you all over again"... (sigh)
Nothing says 'I don't give a SH*T' quite like flowers. So, to all you mommies out there whose husbands are thoughtless and a tad stupid, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY---GO BUY SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR YOURSELF---and when your husband questions your purchase, tell him to go *&%$$& himself.
xoxoxo
****side note: the husband described in this blog in NO WAY reflects my husband, but is dedicated to all of you ladies who are married to , shall we say, thoughtfully challenged men. I know too many of them and was smart enough to train mine early on. As I sit here and stare at my new Pandora charms & Ed Hardy shirt, I'm rather pleased with myself...and him!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Stupid Things My Husband Says
Good Morning Everyone!
It's a beautiful day (finally) in my (Lee's) part of the midwest. Sun is shining, sky is blue and I almost made it all the way through the night last night without waking up! A miracle! I haven't slept well in weeks and I am having a sleep study done next week to figure out what is wrong with me. Hubby thinks I'm stressed out and just need to relax. He said to me last night as we watched our daughter's softball game, "I'm worried about you. It seems like everytime we plan to go somewhere, you get all anxious. I bet that's why you aren't sleeping." If a softball bat were laying next to me at that point, I may have used it on my brilliant husband's head!
It isn't as if we haven't had this discussion before. Any woman with children knows that even a typical day in a normal household takes planning and precision execution. Add a trip out of town for Mom and Dad, and even the best of the best may get a little frazzeled. When you have to coordinate who will be staying with the kids and precious dog in between the time they spend with their father because it's his weekend and kid sporting events, you need a team of event planners and a bottomless jug of margahritas! Welcome to my world! The truth is, I have been dealing with this kind of juggling for years so it doesn't really freak me out and this trip to San Antonio for the weekend isn't keeping me from sleeping. I think the fact that my husband makes ridiculous statements (see above) causes me to believe I have to do ALL the thinking for our family, and THAT is what is causing me not to sleep at night. Oh, I hear you girl (Ann here)---we've been doing this 'parenting' thing for approx. 6 yrs now and still, to this day, husband thinks that getting ready to go consists of putting on shoes and buckling in the children into their carseats. I'll break it down. Pack snacks, diapers, wipes, put aside at least 10 minutes for putting shoes on because the 3 year old will take off the left while I put on the right and so on. Gather coupons, to-do list, blockbuster movies, birthday presents and all the other things we will need for our outing, make the children go pee, clean up the main floor so we don't come home to a clean house. All the while, as I'm running around doing all of these mundane tasks, husband is sitting on the couch, usually tuning his f-ing guitar and saying idiot things like, "we're going to be late....can we go now?"...
I'll take it a step further. What about the bedtime routine? Here's mine: Let our precious 'dog-ter" outside, turn off the porch lights, put the ubiquitous snacks back into the pantry, bring glasses to the dishwasher, fold throw blankets, fluff pillows on couch, lay out various items onto the counter so husband doesn't forget them on his way to work, ie. keys, blackberry, bills to be mailed, etc. Lay out kindergartner's clothes, pack his lunch, let in dog, give her a cookie, carry up a folded load of laundry, tuck in kids, wash face, brush teeth, pee, apply hand lotion & chapstick, talk my way out of sex, fall into bed.
Here's husband's bedtime routine: Yawn, walk upstairs, lay down.
They all wonder why we are raging bee-ochs...
I have so much more to say about this topic, but I have to start my list of "To-Do's" so I am ready precisely at 5 pm when we leave for the airport and so when Hubby walks in he doesn't say, "Why aren't you ready yet?????"! After all, we are going to visit HIS friends and if I kill him, it may ruin the weekend for them!
It's a beautiful day (finally) in my (Lee's) part of the midwest. Sun is shining, sky is blue and I almost made it all the way through the night last night without waking up! A miracle! I haven't slept well in weeks and I am having a sleep study done next week to figure out what is wrong with me. Hubby thinks I'm stressed out and just need to relax. He said to me last night as we watched our daughter's softball game, "I'm worried about you. It seems like everytime we plan to go somewhere, you get all anxious. I bet that's why you aren't sleeping." If a softball bat were laying next to me at that point, I may have used it on my brilliant husband's head!
It isn't as if we haven't had this discussion before. Any woman with children knows that even a typical day in a normal household takes planning and precision execution. Add a trip out of town for Mom and Dad, and even the best of the best may get a little frazzeled. When you have to coordinate who will be staying with the kids and precious dog in between the time they spend with their father because it's his weekend and kid sporting events, you need a team of event planners and a bottomless jug of margahritas! Welcome to my world! The truth is, I have been dealing with this kind of juggling for years so it doesn't really freak me out and this trip to San Antonio for the weekend isn't keeping me from sleeping. I think the fact that my husband makes ridiculous statements (see above) causes me to believe I have to do ALL the thinking for our family, and THAT is what is causing me not to sleep at night. Oh, I hear you girl (Ann here)---we've been doing this 'parenting' thing for approx. 6 yrs now and still, to this day, husband thinks that getting ready to go consists of putting on shoes and buckling in the children into their carseats. I'll break it down. Pack snacks, diapers, wipes, put aside at least 10 minutes for putting shoes on because the 3 year old will take off the left while I put on the right and so on. Gather coupons, to-do list, blockbuster movies, birthday presents and all the other things we will need for our outing, make the children go pee, clean up the main floor so we don't come home to a clean house. All the while, as I'm running around doing all of these mundane tasks, husband is sitting on the couch, usually tuning his f-ing guitar and saying idiot things like, "we're going to be late....can we go now?"...
I'll take it a step further. What about the bedtime routine? Here's mine: Let our precious 'dog-ter" outside, turn off the porch lights, put the ubiquitous snacks back into the pantry, bring glasses to the dishwasher, fold throw blankets, fluff pillows on couch, lay out various items onto the counter so husband doesn't forget them on his way to work, ie. keys, blackberry, bills to be mailed, etc. Lay out kindergartner's clothes, pack his lunch, let in dog, give her a cookie, carry up a folded load of laundry, tuck in kids, wash face, brush teeth, pee, apply hand lotion & chapstick, talk my way out of sex, fall into bed.
Here's husband's bedtime routine: Yawn, walk upstairs, lay down.
They all wonder why we are raging bee-ochs...
I have so much more to say about this topic, but I have to start my list of "To-Do's" so I am ready precisely at 5 pm when we leave for the airport and so when Hubby walks in he doesn't say, "Why aren't you ready yet?????"! After all, we are going to visit HIS friends and if I kill him, it may ruin the weekend for them!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
People we hate
Listing the people that we love is..well, boring. So, we'll list the people that we hate. It's very simple, there are those who "get it" and those who don't. It's all black and white, we are 'love it' or 'hate it' girls, there's no grey. Lee interjecting here. I think it is important to note that in our family, it was kill or be killed. Around the dinner table, if we didn't have something nasty to say about someone, there would be hell to pay. We would get extra points for ripping on someone outside the family. I guess it's how dear 'ol dad made himself feel better about his pathetic life. Here goes:
1. People who talk and talk and talk, just for the sake of hearing their own voice. What is coming out of their mouth is neither remarkable nor entertaining. They truly think that if they throw in a 4 syllable word every so often, it will create the illusion that they are intelligent. I usually see right through that and then instantly hate them.
2. People who have no minds of their own. Their likes and dislikes parallel their spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend. This falls into the same category as people who can't NOT have a spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend and also people who worship their spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend. Puke. I have no patience or tolerance for this type of person. They are usually very meek and boring individuals. We are also not so fond of people who can ONLY talk about their children. We love our children to death, however, we don't expect others to love them as much as we do nor do we expect others to find their silly antics as fabulous as we do.
3. Trista Sutter (A.K.A the Bachelorette). She got dissed on the Bachelor and then went on the Bachelorette where she found true love and married him on National TV (which funded her 1 Million dollar wedding). Then went onto be a spokesperson for infertility within weeks of her nuptiuals. She began writing a column for Redbook magazine....something about being married, or something (because she was obviously an expert after 3 months of marriage). Blew out her fallopian tubes and was knocked up the following month. Got her fat ass onto any magazine that would shoot her revealed her story book nursery. And is now on the cover of every cheap grocery store magazine as the poster girl for post-pregnancy weight loss. Go away! Your 7 minutes were up in 2001. I don't care for the girl or her wussy husband either. I just don't care enough to waste one milisecond on thinking about it. Shut up. If you don't have anything bitchy to day, don't say anything at all.
4. Cashiers who comment on everything that you buy. "Oh, this looks delicious, where did you find this". Just ring me up, Shannon--thanks! Also--cashiers that complain about their jobs while they're ringing you up. I don't know why, but this makes me insane. "hello, how are you today, Target person"? "I'll be a lot better when I get to punch out of this place". I never know how to respond to that. Grocery store cashiers who throw my food to the end of the whatever it is you call it after charging me for it make me mental. I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it! It's called a conveyour belt, donkey.
5. People who use poor grammar. This includes:
1. People who talk and talk and talk, just for the sake of hearing their own voice. What is coming out of their mouth is neither remarkable nor entertaining. They truly think that if they throw in a 4 syllable word every so often, it will create the illusion that they are intelligent. I usually see right through that and then instantly hate them.
2. People who have no minds of their own. Their likes and dislikes parallel their spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend. This falls into the same category as people who can't NOT have a spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend and also people who worship their spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend. Puke. I have no patience or tolerance for this type of person. They are usually very meek and boring individuals. We are also not so fond of people who can ONLY talk about their children. We love our children to death, however, we don't expect others to love them as much as we do nor do we expect others to find their silly antics as fabulous as we do.
3. Trista Sutter (A.K.A the Bachelorette). She got dissed on the Bachelor and then went on the Bachelorette where she found true love and married him on National TV (which funded her 1 Million dollar wedding). Then went onto be a spokesperson for infertility within weeks of her nuptiuals. She began writing a column for Redbook magazine....something about being married, or something (because she was obviously an expert after 3 months of marriage). Blew out her fallopian tubes and was knocked up the following month. Got her fat ass onto any magazine that would shoot her revealed her story book nursery. And is now on the cover of every cheap grocery store magazine as the poster girl for post-pregnancy weight loss. Go away! Your 7 minutes were up in 2001. I don't care for the girl or her wussy husband either. I just don't care enough to waste one milisecond on thinking about it. Shut up. If you don't have anything bitchy to day, don't say anything at all.
4. Cashiers who comment on everything that you buy. "Oh, this looks delicious, where did you find this". Just ring me up, Shannon--thanks! Also--cashiers that complain about their jobs while they're ringing you up. I don't know why, but this makes me insane. "hello, how are you today, Target person"? "I'll be a lot better when I get to punch out of this place". I never know how to respond to that. Grocery store cashiers who throw my food to the end of the whatever it is you call it after charging me for it make me mental. I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it! It's called a conveyour belt, donkey.
5. People who use poor grammar. This includes:
- He don't know...
- I seen him at the Walmart last week.
- You ain't got no dang money!
- Where you at?
- Irregardless...(you just know this person thinks they're using a big word and don't you just want to slap them)?
- I have went....
- People who prounounce Illinois as El-in-oy and industry as IN-dustry. OMG I need a drink!
6. People who have their kids in public still in their pajamas in the afternoon. This gives me hives. Is it really that hard to dress your child. This includes people who refuse to brush their kids hair and the kid shows up to school with the biggest rat's nest in the back of their head. Also--the people in the middle of the Summer who push their kids around in a grocery cart wearing nothing but a diaper.
7. Chris Hansen from Dateline. You know the "To Catch A Predator". He's so..... "Enough about you, I'm Chris Hansen, do you like my hair". "Well, we'll get to you in a minute, Long-schlong-228, right now, I'd like to introduce myself, but surely you've seen me on T.V, I'm Chris Hansen. Don't I look better in person?"
8. People who can't muster up the strawn-th to shake your hand. It's like shaking hands with an invalid. It's all limp and damp. They're the worst.
9. People who can't make a point. There's a word for this and it's called "circuitous". Good one, eh? Learn it. Use it. Impress your friends with it. I can't stand when people mistake me for a stupid person and take 3 hours to explain the most simple concept. I usually have to put the phone down and pinch the bridge of my nose, pour myself a drink and then eventually pick the phone back up again to see if they've progressed any further into the story. I have no patience for circuitous people. My mother used to do this when she'd explain recipes to me. She'd explain each layer of lasagne as if each one was different from the one before. Instead of saying, 'sauce, lasagne, meat, cheese, sauce....layer it 3 times, etc.' She'd start her recipe directions at the grocery store and finish at how to clean up baked on grease. Maddening, I tell you.
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