Whaat?

04.16.09

Awhile back I was reading some magazine and in it, it talked about how celebrities are “going green”.

Do me a favor. Go Google this topic:  “Jennifer Aniston 3 minute shower” - there are 115,000+ posts about how Jennifer Aniston is doing her part to save the planet by taking quick showers.  Favorable?  Sure, why not.

Firstly, I think global warming is a farce.  I have proof, but that’s another topic.  I respect those who are manic about being green, because really, it’s a beneficial habit regardless of what you believe.  I recycle by the way.

Digression:  Overall, we’re not trying to save the earth. We’re trying to save ourselves.  If for some reason we all go extinct because Mama earth just couldn’t hack our sinful ways, then what happens?  We go extinct…and who’s holding the ball?  You got it, the big ball herself.  Doesn’t matter what we do, she’ll still be here.  Kind of a funny twist on “saving the earth”,  right?

So back to Jennifer’s 3-minute wash-ups.  So we Googled the shower topic….now let’s Google this one (I havne’t done it yet):  Jennifer Aniston vacation.  Here are some excerpts:

  • Jennifer Aniston relaxed in a bikini while on vacation in Mexico
  • Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox vacation in Hawaii
  • Jennifer Aniston And John Mayer’s European Vacation

You get the picture.  Let me also add that I have nothing against Jennifer Aniston, it was the 3 minute shower that caught my attention, not necessarily who was taking said shower.

The last time I went on vacation it was to Seattle, WA.  Not too exciting, especially since I already live in Washington state.  And it was the first “getaway” we’ve had since our kids started making their way into the world over 7 years ago.  Pathetic, maybe. Realistic, I’d like to think so.

So on the topic of showers, I get a little sensitive I guess.  When I take a shower, I stand there until the water gets cold.  I turn the heat up to scalding, close the door and just stand there. Sometimes I even sit on the built-in bench.  For me, THAT is my vacation.  The water drowns out the sound of screaming children, Ultimate Fighting Championships on TV, and whatever else may be going on in the real world.

For that  20-30 minutes I don’t have to think or do a thing.  I endulge is some of the magnificent offerings found at Allizon.com, sugar scrubs and bathtime yummies.

So am I destroying the planet with my too-long shower?  Probably no more than the exhaust from a private jet headed to Hawaii.

Feelings…Nuttin’ More than……FEELINGS

12.31.08

People who know me know I’m a politics junkie, especially around election time.  And before I vote, I pray.  I think everyone should do this.  God doesn’t steer you wrong…you may not listen to what He’s telling you, but He’s always telling you correctly.

So while I’m a conservative independent, I have friends who are conservative democrats and liberal democrats, which generally puts us on the opposite side of the vote.  That’s fine, everyone has their thoughts, opinions, etc.  I will sit & listen to a person’s reasons about why they vote the way they vote, BUT over the past few years a couple people, in the midst of intelligent debate, have said someting to the effect of, “I have a feeling about so-and-so, and my intuition is usually right on.”

Now that’s interesting, because I feel like I have pretty decent intuition.  AND I pray before I vote, and I feel prompted by the Spirit of God (I hope that’s what that is!).  Yet my intuition and the answer to my prayers is entirely different that the answer provided by your intuition (and maybe prayers).  So explain that one to me.

This doesn’t just go for politics, but ANY topic.  If you think your “feelings” are better than my “feelings”, keep it to yourself.  Talk about a total conversation stopper and putting an end to any sort of friendly debate.  Sheesh.

Friendly debate.  That’s a funny term.

Geriatric Gropers

11.24.08

Today I was in the grocery store at the checkout line–completely tuckered out. I had Emily in the cart and I was carrying Joe in a sling. Now, Joe is 7 months old and about 21 pounds, so I think I looked the way I felt. I was exhausted!
There was an elderly lady behind me in one of those electric scooter carts, with a permanent grimace–but friendly–and she looked at Joe and said “WHAT are you FEEDING him?!?!” and before I had a chance to say anything she grabbed her boob, shook it around and gave me a devious look, as if to say “Is this your secret weapon?”
It was SO funny, she didn’t even crack a smile while bouncing her boob about. Then I yes, “Yeah, that’s what I feed him!” and she says, “Ahhh, Jersey cow.”
It was great!
On a side note, what is it about old ladies and boobs? Just a couple weeks ago I gave my Grandma a hug and she reached up and grabbed my boob, bounced it, and kind of giggled. ??? I know its the Altzheimers, but good grief! I just laughed…cute little Grandma.

Chopsticks

11.24.08

Laura and I were at the mall with our kids. We were in the food court deciding where to eat. I chose Edo, it’s one of my all time favorites.
So I order and as the gal is cooking my food there’s a guy standing near the register leaning against the wall. He was chatting with the cashier. Now let me just describe him:
He’s about 50, slicked back gray hair, black leather bomber jacket with zippers, very obviously a smoker because he had yellow teeth…some missing. He’s about 6′ tall and weighs about 140 lbs. Scrawny.
So that’s my first impression and he hasn’t said a word. Oh, and he’s leaning against the wall like he’s in a Calvin Klein underwear commercial.
So I’m making my way to the register, pulling out my cash to pay, and this conversation ensues…WAIT…I have to also add here that Creepy Pete had a voice that did not match his persona, he looked like a biker burn-out and sounded like a drag queen…I mean flamboyant. (STOP IT! I’m not insulting anyone, just painting the picture…..sheesh! Gimme a break!) So, onto the conversation…
HIM: (real creepy like) “You know how they make money dontcha?”
ME: (politely) “Um, with linen.”
HIM: (alluringly) “…and”
ME: (irritated) “and ink”
HIM: (alluringly) “…and”
ME: (giving up) “No idea.”
ANYWAY…he opens up his wallet, with his really long and creepy fingernails, and pulls out a big wad of neatly folded cash and kind of shuffles it–so I can see that there is a lot there–then he reached down and grabs his pant leg (wearing jeans) and shakes it around.
I’m thinking…what the HECK is this guy doing?? And he says “denim”.
Okay, of course I’m SO fascinated by this guy’s knowledge of money. All I want to do is run far and fast, and eat my dang Teriyaki Chicken! But he’s pulling out all the stops. He reaches in his inside coat pocket (at this point I think he’s probably going to stab me) and pulls out a set of chopsticks. And they are FANCY chopsticks with seashell inlay! Then he grabs a set of wooden ones from the bin and says, somewhat offended, “I NEVER use these…” and he waves his fancy sticks around and says “They gave me these special because I eat here EVERY DAY!”;
By this time I’m chewing my own leg off to be released from the freak trap, but realized I needed to have compassion–probably for him–but instead for the poor people at Edo that get to hang out everyday with the man that I will always refer to as “Chopsticks.”

A Brow Beating

11.24.08

In high school my friend Michelle was always trusting me, I don’t know why.  We (okay, probably me) decided that she needed her eyebrows plucked, and I offered to do it for her.  Well, after the first couple of plucks she totally wimped out, she said it hurt too much.  So I had a brilliant idea!  I got out the Nair (probably in our drawer for 10 years) and carefully applied it to her extra eyebrow hairs, disregarding all warnings on the bottle to keep it away from your eyes.

As we were waiting the designated amount of time, she started complaining that her eyebrows were burning.  Now, considering she was wimpy about pulling a couple hairs out, I said “Stick your head out the window you big baby!”  I thought the cold winter air would help. (I know…dumb!)

So when the timer went off, we wiped off Michelle’s unwanted hair, as well as some not-so-unwanted eyebrow skin. Oops!

As if high school isn’t intimidating enough, poor Michelle walked around the next week with scabs under her eyebrows, courtesy of yours truly.  Though I will say she did do a fairly decent camoflauge job with the blue eyeshadow.

Poor Michelle.  No wonder I hardly have any friends!!

Gettin’ Hammered

11.24.08

I must be some sort of sicko because I’m posting this in the “That’s Hilarious” file–but it’s really very disturbing.

When I was about nine I was helping my mom put up a wall. My one task was to pound a nail into the ceiling. So, with all of my might, I swung the hammer…missed the wall…and pounded my mom right square in the forehead. She grabbed her forehead and was very obviously stunned, not to mention the likely pain that ensued.

Now, I think that I must have watched way too many episodes of Loony Toons or Tom & Jerry, because I started laughing hysterically. I couldn’t even stand up. And in cartoon fashion, my mom sprouted a giant purple knot on her forehead that she sported for the next couple weeks.

We’ve retold this story many times, and each time (including now) I find myself laughing. And when my mom remembers it she shudders–she laughs too–but mostly she shudders.

Isn’t that horrible??

Bus Stop Blues

11.24.08

Okay, riding the bus in high school is not something that anyone looks forward to.  Either you drove, or you had a friend pick you up.  That was cool.
Well, before I had my license I, of course, rode the bus.  I always hated the first couple days of school for this reason.  We lived at an intersection.  The school always told me to wait for the bus that came down the highway instead of the side road–wrong.
Well, two years in a row I stood on the side of the highway…the bus would come…and ZOOM…the bus would go.  Leaving me there on the side of the busy highway with my school bag, looking like a complete idiot.
So I’d go tell my Mom what happened.  She’d call the bus garage and yell at them, then drive me to school.  When I got to school the other kids from the bus would make fun of me.
I’m surprised with all of my high school trauma that I came out reasonably sane.

Sweet, Sweet Prevenge

11.24.08

It was a hot summer day.  I was sitting in the dining room.  My sister, Amee, was at the typewriter (this was before computers came along) and she was wearing an open-backed swimsuit and shorts.  That was her normal attire for summer.
Well, she was typing along, minding her own business.  I, however, was looking at her smooth, mocha-colored, inviting back-skin.  I stared at it for awhile, but the urge overtook me.  I walked up and whacked her right square in the back with my open hand, as hard as I possibly could.  The sound rang through the trailer.
Amee immediately arched her back in horror and gave out a shriek that could be heard around the world.  She started to cry–I think she cried because she wanted to get me in trouble–but she said it burned with a fiery rage.
So realizing what I had just done I, too, started to cry (for fear of our Mother) and I ran and hid.  Honestly I didn’t know it would hurt her THAT bad.  I was grounded for a week and Mom took my cowboy boots away (that hurt).
I don’t regret it, but rather remember it with sweet satisfaction.  For all the mean things she would do to me in the future, that one memory made it all worthwhile.
It was preemptive revenge….”Prevenge” if you will.

Strip Tease

11.24.08

When I was about 14 and was starting to get “bosoms”, well, my hand-me-down bras didn’t really fit all that well.  Half the time they rode up around my neck because there was nothing holding them down!
Anyway, I came home from school one day.  My Mom was on the couch, and she did this really neat little trick (we all do it) of pulling the bra out the sleeve.  So I decided that not only would I copy the fancy trick, but I would give my mom a show as well.  So I pulled the bra out and started whirling it above my head in attempts to make Mom laugh.  Well, my trick apparently worked because she started laughing hysterically…not at my pretty dance, but rather the shower of cotton balls I sent whirling around the room.
Yep, I had forgotten that I had “stuffed”, and, in horror, told her that I had JUST put them there to “see what it looked like.”
<sigh> Sad, sad girl.

Mango’s Passionate Adventure

11.24.08

My husband’s and my first child was a little blue Chihuahua named Mango.  Mango’s favorite pastime was to play with Humpy Bear, who earned her name from many a love session from the dog, who I nicknamed Sir Humpsalot.
For anyone who’s first child is a pet, you understand how important they become. If he was sick I would stay home from work.  He went everywhere with us, I even had a special purse made with a hole in it so he could go with me and poke his head out.  We loved him like a child.
Late one evening, about 11:00, Mango was having his nightly rendevous with Madame Humpy Bear.  He had a routine, he would pull her of his toy basket, shake her around a bit (she was a naughty girl!) and, shall we say, commence.
Well, this particular night I noticed the two lovebirds under the end table, but Mango was unusually out of control.  I decided to intervene before he gave himself a heart attack, and as I reached for him I noticed that his “part” was extended several inches from his body and had no intention of going back to the mother ship.  Apparently he had been sharing special time with humpy for so long that he’d actually dried himself out.
Well, anyone in my situation would have done what I did upon seeing such a large projectile attached to such a tiny dog.  I screamed!
Of course my scream startled the dog so badly that he started to run.  I immediately worried that he might poll vault across the room as he wasn’t used to sporting such equipment.  He made his way under the couch, terrified.  I called for my husband as I was coaxing poor Mango from his hiding place.
My husband, at my direction, called the vet and woke him up.  I heard him telling the vet our plight in the most discreet and polite manner possible…”Our dog was playing with his teddy bear and he got his boy part stuck out.”
While he received medical advice, I thought of the best solution possible.  I remembered that Seinfeld episode..the one where they talked about shrinkage…so I took the dog into the bathroom, turned on the cold water, and proceeded to manually apply cold water to the unit.
Eventually it returned to its proper place.  I informed my husband of the good news, he passed it on to the vet and hung up the phone.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He said to take the bear away!” he answered.
Needless to say, after Madame Humpy Bear’s hiatus, Mango became more of gentleman.
« Older Entries