Is the concept of "sleeping through the night" an American thing? Do African women in huts get up two or three times a night with their children? How about Cambodian women? Turkish or Japanese women? Do they embrace the fact that they will never sleep again once they have children? What about Irish women? Is six hours of sleep in two-hour increments a gift to them? Iran? Mexico? Idaho?
Everyone I know has one goal: sleeping through the night.
"Is he sleeping through the night?" "Oh, she sleeps through! Good for you!" "How often is he up in the night?" "If you [do this] she will sleep through the night." These are all very common phrases to the parents of a new baby...in MY culture.
What I want to know is: are we the weirdos? Is this a major topic of conversation for mommies in other countries and cultures?
I'm just saying if this is my life, I at least want to belong to a culture where everybody else feels like shit, too.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Thursday, November 04, 2010
28!
While I worked out tonight, I watched two girls goofing around, daring each other to lift weights, racing each other on the treadmills, that kind of thing. I guessed them to be either seniors in high school or freshman in college. Somewhere in the 17-19 range, possibly older, but definitely not younger. (This information will be important later.)
Over all I had a really good night at the gym tonight. I reached a personal goal that I really thought would take at least another month. I lost two more pounds. I can feel myself getting stronger and more confident by the day. Lots of milestones all around.
After my fantastic work out, I was literally smiling on my way into the locker room, thrilled with my progress, just ACHING for someone to tell.
I was washing up in the when one of the girls I had noticed earlier said to me, "Hey, are you Bella's mom?"
I said, "No, why? Is someone crying in the nursery?"
She said, "No, uh...Bella's my friend."
Now, I ask you, interweb.
Am I so frumpy that I could so easily be mistaken for a 40+ mother? REALLY? I don't try too hard to be stylish when I go to the gym, but maybe it's time to start. I don't mean to offend my 40+ readers, but COME ON. I am TWENTY-EIGHT years old.
Oh well. I guess she saved me from getting a big head or something.
Over all I had a really good night at the gym tonight. I reached a personal goal that I really thought would take at least another month. I lost two more pounds. I can feel myself getting stronger and more confident by the day. Lots of milestones all around.
After my fantastic work out, I was literally smiling on my way into the locker room, thrilled with my progress, just ACHING for someone to tell.
I was washing up in the when one of the girls I had noticed earlier said to me, "Hey, are you Bella's mom?"
I said, "No, why? Is someone crying in the nursery?"
She said, "No, uh...Bella's my friend."
Now, I ask you, interweb.
Am I so frumpy that I could so easily be mistaken for a 40+ mother? REALLY? I don't try too hard to be stylish when I go to the gym, but maybe it's time to start. I don't mean to offend my 40+ readers, but COME ON. I am TWENTY-EIGHT years old.
Oh well. I guess she saved me from getting a big head or something.
Friday, July 02, 2010
TECH.NOL.O.GY.
This morning I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth (a rarity in itself) when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shirley hoist something up and try to lug it out of the bathroom without my seeing. Yes, it was her potty chair. Yes, my whole life flashed before my eyes when I imagined all the germs she was hoisting along with her potty.
I turned around to remedy the situation with my toothbrush still in my mouth. I got the potty chair put back where it goes and scurried SJ out into the living room and turned back to see my phone--still on--under the running faucet.
I sure hope it turns back on. Richard says he has an old Motorola Razr I can use if it won't turn back on. Talk about the dark ages. Ugh.
I turned around to remedy the situation with my toothbrush still in my mouth. I got the potty chair put back where it goes and scurried SJ out into the living room and turned back to see my phone--still on--under the running faucet.
I sure hope it turns back on. Richard says he has an old Motorola Razr I can use if it won't turn back on. Talk about the dark ages. Ugh.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
VS
Have you guys seen these Victoria's Secret ads where the models tell us how much they love their bodies?
As if this is a revelation in female empowerment.
If I had Gisele's body, I'd love it, too. I'd love it right up.
::EYEROLL::
I mean, it's just offensive.
Marketing Department at Victoria's Secret: FAIL. Epic fail.
As if this is a revelation in female empowerment.
If I had Gisele's body, I'd love it, too. I'd love it right up.
::EYEROLL::
I mean, it's just offensive.
Marketing Department at Victoria's Secret: FAIL. Epic fail.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Previous experience not required.
Several times in the last six or so years I've really gotten slammed by other Christian women with regard to my new (to me) roles as wife and mother.
I remember very distinctly an excited conversation I was having with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about shopping for engagement rings with Richard. Another "more experienced" woman piped up, "Shopping for rings? Yeah, that's when life really begins."
Now, she's not wrong, shopping for rings isn't exactly life and death, but it was a big deal to me--it marked a major change in the path of my life. Could she not identify with this? I believe she supports the institution of marriage and was once a young bride herself. So, would it have killed her to congratulate me? Wish me luck in my future marriage? Offer to support me in some non-offensive way?
I've endured a LOT more criticism now that I'm a mommy. I'm sure you know what it's like (if you're a mother)...snide, passive-aggressive comments about my and Richard's choices with Shirley Jean, you've all been there. "If you think you're blank now..." (I'm breaking out in hives just typing it.)
One memory that comes to mind was when SJ was just about six months old. I was joking with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about how wonderful it would be to sleep all the way through the night in a bed all to myself (a pipe dream that makes me salivate even now). A mother of four or five or seventeen whom I had never before met chimed in, "How many children do you have?" "Just one," I said. "Oh, poor you!" she rolled her eyes.
This is a relatively mild example...I've heard and read some downright nasty things about myself since Shirley was born, but the point is, REALLY???
Aren't we supposed to be building each other up? No, wait. Scratch that. Aren't YOU, "more experienced" sister-woman-friends supposed to be building ME up? Helping me to become a better wife and mother? Dare I say it: A Titus 2 Woman? Offering wisdom in a kind, non-humiliating way? The scrutiny and criticism I've endured, mostly from Christians, truly, is the reason I hardly blog any more. I know I'm not alone on this, and I'm probably (Edit: Probably?? I'm sure of it.) guilty of hurting someone's feelings inadvertently by trying to make a joke, etc., but I really do make a conscious effort to NOT put somebody to shame.
Speaking of shame, the truth is, I've enjoyed more praise and encouragement from my non-Christian friends than most of my "more experienced" sister-woman-friends. This isn't right.
I guess what I'm learning is that in ten or so years when I'm done bearing my four or five or seventeen children, I really don't want to be the kind of "more experienced" woman who is too proud to NOT say to a young wife and mother, "I hear you. I've been there. I'm praying for you. You're doing a GREAT job! How can I help?"
I remember very distinctly an excited conversation I was having with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about shopping for engagement rings with Richard. Another "more experienced" woman piped up, "Shopping for rings? Yeah, that's when life really begins."
Now, she's not wrong, shopping for rings isn't exactly life and death, but it was a big deal to me--it marked a major change in the path of my life. Could she not identify with this? I believe she supports the institution of marriage and was once a young bride herself. So, would it have killed her to congratulate me? Wish me luck in my future marriage? Offer to support me in some non-offensive way?
I've endured a LOT more criticism now that I'm a mommy. I'm sure you know what it's like (if you're a mother)...snide, passive-aggressive comments about my and Richard's choices with Shirley Jean, you've all been there. "If you think you're blank now..." (I'm breaking out in hives just typing it.)
One memory that comes to mind was when SJ was just about six months old. I was joking with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about how wonderful it would be to sleep all the way through the night in a bed all to myself (a pipe dream that makes me salivate even now). A mother of four or five or seventeen whom I had never before met chimed in, "How many children do you have?" "Just one," I said. "Oh, poor you!" she rolled her eyes.
This is a relatively mild example...I've heard and read some downright nasty things about myself since Shirley was born, but the point is, REALLY???
Aren't we supposed to be building each other up? No, wait. Scratch that. Aren't YOU, "more experienced" sister-woman-friends supposed to be building ME up? Helping me to become a better wife and mother? Dare I say it: A Titus 2 Woman? Offering wisdom in a kind, non-humiliating way? The scrutiny and criticism I've endured, mostly from Christians, truly, is the reason I hardly blog any more. I know I'm not alone on this, and I'm probably (Edit: Probably?? I'm sure of it.) guilty of hurting someone's feelings inadvertently by trying to make a joke, etc., but I really do make a conscious effort to NOT put somebody to shame.
Speaking of shame, the truth is, I've enjoyed more praise and encouragement from my non-Christian friends than most of my "more experienced" sister-woman-friends. This isn't right.
I guess what I'm learning is that in ten or so years when I'm done bearing my four or five or seventeen children, I really don't want to be the kind of "more experienced" woman who is too proud to NOT say to a young wife and mother, "I hear you. I've been there. I'm praying for you. You're doing a GREAT job! How can I help?"
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Rebuttal
angie said...
fireplaces. HOT FACE, COLD BUTT. hot chocolate. SUGAR. hot chocolate with marshmallows. STOMACH ACHE. stew. christmas. I'LL GIVE YOU THOSE TWO. ice skating. PAIN! sledding. MORE PAIN AND UPHILL WALKING! excuse to be late to work. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU NOTICED, BUT I NEVER NEEDED AN EXCUSE. snowflakes. THEY'RE ALL DIFFERENT--LIKE US. snowmen. MELT AND TURN GRAY. scarves. YOU CAN HAVE SCARVES, TOO. sweaters. AND SWEATERS. booties. ANGIE, DO YOU WEAR BOOTIES? WHAT IS A BOOTIE? DO TELL. ; ) extra blankets.... TO BE FAIR, THIS IS ONE OF THE ONLY TIMES A YEAR THAT I GET TO SEE ALL MY QUILTS... to name a few. huh. i didn't even realize i was a winter-lover! COME ON OVER. I CAN FIX THAT. POUTING CHANGES MINDS, RIGHT?
kristi noser said...
When you look out the window in the morning and the sky is a Royal Blue and the snow is sparkling like a million diamonds. I SUPPOSE. Then you go outside and the air is so cold that your nosehairs freeze when you inhale. FUN. Then you run back inside where Poppers has a roaring fire going in the woodstove and you stand by it and toast yourself. HOT FACE, COLD BUTT. You should come over. NOW THAT'S TRUE.
kristi noser said...
Oh and when it snows a BUNCH and there is a snow day and Eli and I both get to stay home--that rocks! I GUESS...
carrie said...
sweaters - they hide a lot. TRUE ENOUGH, I SUPPOSE. Christmas. THREE WORDS: LITTLE. DRUMMER. BOY. feeling toasty in my blankey. YOU MAY NOT KNOW THIS ABOUT ME, BUT I SLEEP WITH A BLANKEY ALL YEAR ROUND. hot chocolate. STOMACH ACHE. watching Polly play in the snow. WET DOG SMELL.
-V- said...
Trips to Florida or somewhere else sunny... :-) OR JUST THE TANNING BED.
Coffeegirl said...
V, I'm with you. I love when you get off the plane and you feel that warm, humid air. Then, the sunshine reaches your skin and you think...why do I live in MN? MY HUSBAND LIVES HERE. THAT'S THE ONLY REASON, SOME DAYS. I do love when the snow covers the trees. FOR A DAY OR TWO, BEFORE EVERYTHING TURNS GRAY AND BROWN AGAIN... And Christmas vacation. YES, TRUE. That's about it. ME, TOO.
Melissa said...
Yeah, why do you live in MN/WI? SEE ABOVE. I have SAD (seasonal affective disorder) and I find it much easier to cope with the lack of daylight hours if it's still 65 degrees and sunny out here in CA! I THINK MELISSA IS ON TO SOMETHING HERE... However, it's really fun to watch your kid play in the snow :) MAYBE I'LL JUST TRY TOSSING SJ OUT THERE AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS. MAYBE then I WOULD FINALLY ENJOY WINTER.
Katie R. said...
Snowmobiling, KATIE, I WOULD SOONER DIE (NO OFFENSE.). a white Christmas, NOW, THAT'S SOMETHING THAT does MAKE ME FEEL GOOD. hoar frost, TEE HEE. the blue sky and sparkly snow that Kristi said, SEE ABOVE. sweaters for the same reason Carrie said, SEE ABOVE. all of this is just wonderful until Dec.26th and then I'm ready for spring. ME TOO.
Cara said...
Friends that like to appear to be like Scrooge.....:) MAYHAPS I AM A BIT OF A SCROOGE. ESPECIALLY AFTER RE-READING MY REBUTTAL. I'M THINKING YOU GUYS SHOULD COME DIG ME OUT OF MY BEDROOM IN APRIL. I'LL BE EMACIATED AND WEARING A TOWEL ON MY HEAD AND THE SAME SWEATPANTS THAT I WEAR TO BED TONIGHT.
RICHARD. IS. SO. LUCKY.
SERIOUSLY, THOUGH--I DON'T THINK I'M DOING SO GOOD.
fireplaces. HOT FACE, COLD BUTT. hot chocolate. SUGAR. hot chocolate with marshmallows. STOMACH ACHE. stew. christmas. I'LL GIVE YOU THOSE TWO. ice skating. PAIN! sledding. MORE PAIN AND UPHILL WALKING! excuse to be late to work. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU NOTICED, BUT I NEVER NEEDED AN EXCUSE. snowflakes. THEY'RE ALL DIFFERENT--LIKE US. snowmen. MELT AND TURN GRAY. scarves. YOU CAN HAVE SCARVES, TOO. sweaters. AND SWEATERS. booties. ANGIE, DO YOU WEAR BOOTIES? WHAT IS A BOOTIE? DO TELL. ; ) extra blankets.... TO BE FAIR, THIS IS ONE OF THE ONLY TIMES A YEAR THAT I GET TO SEE ALL MY QUILTS... to name a few. huh. i didn't even realize i was a winter-lover! COME ON OVER. I CAN FIX THAT. POUTING CHANGES MINDS, RIGHT?
kristi noser said...
When you look out the window in the morning and the sky is a Royal Blue and the snow is sparkling like a million diamonds. I SUPPOSE. Then you go outside and the air is so cold that your nosehairs freeze when you inhale. FUN. Then you run back inside where Poppers has a roaring fire going in the woodstove and you stand by it and toast yourself. HOT FACE, COLD BUTT. You should come over. NOW THAT'S TRUE.
kristi noser said...
Oh and when it snows a BUNCH and there is a snow day and Eli and I both get to stay home--that rocks! I GUESS...
carrie said...
sweaters - they hide a lot. TRUE ENOUGH, I SUPPOSE. Christmas. THREE WORDS: LITTLE. DRUMMER. BOY. feeling toasty in my blankey. YOU MAY NOT KNOW THIS ABOUT ME, BUT I SLEEP WITH A BLANKEY ALL YEAR ROUND. hot chocolate. STOMACH ACHE. watching Polly play in the snow. WET DOG SMELL.
-V- said...
Trips to Florida or somewhere else sunny... :-) OR JUST THE TANNING BED.
Coffeegirl said...
V, I'm with you. I love when you get off the plane and you feel that warm, humid air. Then, the sunshine reaches your skin and you think...why do I live in MN? MY HUSBAND LIVES HERE. THAT'S THE ONLY REASON, SOME DAYS. I do love when the snow covers the trees. FOR A DAY OR TWO, BEFORE EVERYTHING TURNS GRAY AND BROWN AGAIN... And Christmas vacation. YES, TRUE. That's about it. ME, TOO.
Melissa said...
Yeah, why do you live in MN/WI? SEE ABOVE. I have SAD (seasonal affective disorder) and I find it much easier to cope with the lack of daylight hours if it's still 65 degrees and sunny out here in CA! I THINK MELISSA IS ON TO SOMETHING HERE... However, it's really fun to watch your kid play in the snow :) MAYBE I'LL JUST TRY TOSSING SJ OUT THERE AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS. MAYBE then I WOULD FINALLY ENJOY WINTER.
Katie R. said...
Snowmobiling, KATIE, I WOULD SOONER DIE (NO OFFENSE.). a white Christmas, NOW, THAT'S SOMETHING THAT does MAKE ME FEEL GOOD. hoar frost, TEE HEE. the blue sky and sparkly snow that Kristi said, SEE ABOVE. sweaters for the same reason Carrie said, SEE ABOVE. all of this is just wonderful until Dec.26th and then I'm ready for spring. ME TOO.
Cara said...
Friends that like to appear to be like Scrooge.....:) MAYHAPS I AM A BIT OF A SCROOGE. ESPECIALLY AFTER RE-READING MY REBUTTAL. I'M THINKING YOU GUYS SHOULD COME DIG ME OUT OF MY BEDROOM IN APRIL. I'LL BE EMACIATED AND WEARING A TOWEL ON MY HEAD AND THE SAME SWEATPANTS THAT I WEAR TO BED TONIGHT.
RICHARD. IS. SO. LUCKY.
SERIOUSLY, THOUGH--I DON'T THINK I'M DOING SO GOOD.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Ok, here's the thing.
Facebook is a tool. A tool used to spy on people. Facebook is supposed to be used to find out who got fat, pregnant, married, divorced, hired, fired, moved, and who was successful or a failure in life.
More importantly, it is for spying on your high school sweetheart to see if his wife is as ugly as you hope, your college nemesis who made freshman drama a nightmare and that guy with whom you should have gone to the prom. (Sigh.)
Sure, it's a networking tool, but save for a few friends that I like to encourage and love up by way of commenting on some photos (hi, Julianne!), Facebook, by and large, is for SPYING. Facebook is the layman's spyware.
My point?
Bumper stickers, fun walls, sports teams, etc., just serve to clutter pages and get in my way when I am trying to see the new photos you added from your vacation to Duluth. I'm DYING to see you swimming in those frigid waters, but I can't find your albums due to all the garbled nonsense filling up your profile page.
Let's clean up those pages, people, and use Facebook for it's God-given purpose. Spying, snooping, and exploring.
I'm just saying.
Facebook is a tool. A tool used to spy on people. Facebook is supposed to be used to find out who got fat, pregnant, married, divorced, hired, fired, moved, and who was successful or a failure in life.
More importantly, it is for spying on your high school sweetheart to see if his wife is as ugly as you hope, your college nemesis who made freshman drama a nightmare and that guy with whom you should have gone to the prom. (Sigh.)
Sure, it's a networking tool, but save for a few friends that I like to encourage and love up by way of commenting on some photos (hi, Julianne!), Facebook, by and large, is for SPYING. Facebook is the layman's spyware.
My point?
Bumper stickers, fun walls, sports teams, etc., just serve to clutter pages and get in my way when I am trying to see the new photos you added from your vacation to Duluth. I'm DYING to see you swimming in those frigid waters, but I can't find your albums due to all the garbled nonsense filling up your profile page.
Let's clean up those pages, people, and use Facebook for it's God-given purpose. Spying, snooping, and exploring.
I'm just saying.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Headliner
If the biggest thing on yahoo.com right now is Brooke Hogan, there's something wrong with our world.
I mean, aren't we at war?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Dear Walgreens Pharmacist,
Listen, you slack-jawed nincompoop.
When I dropped off my prescription on Thursday and you told me it wouldn't be ready until Friday at 5pm, I thought, "Well...I guess I'll live." I told you how much pain I was in and asked if there was anything you could do to speed up the process. Remember how you promised to help and that you would call me when it was done?
It's Monday.
I haven't been this angry in a long time. I'm so angry, in fact, that I intend to call your boss just as soon as I figure out your name.
I wouldn't call your boss if you hadn't stood there like a sniveling ninny with your tongue hanging out saying things like, "Unfortunately I didn't call you, but I put it together on Saturday."
Unfortunately??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? Is this my fault? Is that what you're implying here? And, you did this on SATURDAY?!? Are you fricking kidding me??
Some day, when you get married, you chubby-faced, wanna-be doctor (if you can get some protuberant fool to marry you), and you have a baby and your wife is at home crying because her breasts hurt so bad that she doesn't want to feed her infant, I. HOPE. YOU. THINK. OF. ME.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. For the record, I don't think you are sorry. Oh, but I will make you sorry.
When I dropped off my prescription on Thursday and you told me it wouldn't be ready until Friday at 5pm, I thought, "Well...I guess I'll live." I told you how much pain I was in and asked if there was anything you could do to speed up the process. Remember how you promised to help and that you would call me when it was done?
It's Monday.
I haven't been this angry in a long time. I'm so angry, in fact, that I intend to call your boss just as soon as I figure out your name.
I wouldn't call your boss if you hadn't stood there like a sniveling ninny with your tongue hanging out saying things like, "Unfortunately I didn't call you, but I put it together on Saturday."
Unfortunately??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? Is this my fault? Is that what you're implying here? And, you did this on SATURDAY?!? Are you fricking kidding me??
Some day, when you get married, you chubby-faced, wanna-be doctor (if you can get some protuberant fool to marry you), and you have a baby and your wife is at home crying because her breasts hurt so bad that she doesn't want to feed her infant, I. HOPE. YOU. THINK. OF. ME.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. For the record, I don't think you are sorry. Oh, but I will make you sorry.
Monday, December 31, 2007
A puzzle for Kelli
Why is it that the fire alarm always starts beeping its "low battery warning" in the middle of the night?
Have you ever heard the warning before 11pm? Ever?
Have you ever heard the warning before 11pm? Ever?
Monday, December 17, 2007
Boy Choir
Can I get something off my chest?I have never been a huge fan of an all-boy choir. Truth be told, I find them just a little creepy. The music is beautiful, no doubt, and relaxing and transfixing. I don't intrinsically dislike a song by a boy choir...I'm just not about to pop in my Boy Choir Greatest Hits CD and rock out in the car, if you get my drift.
During the Christmas season, there are a lot of boy choir songs on the radio. I don't mind them, really. But. Do you know what ruins the peaceful, beautiful melody of any Christmas carol sung by a choir of boys? Three words:
Michael W. Smith.
Independently of one another, I don't mind either a boy choir or Michael W., but put them together and I want to cut off my ears and throw them at ol' Smitty. Sometimes I think it would be worth it to never be able to wear earrings again if MWS would stop. collaborating. with. children's. choirs.
I can't be alone in this.
You know how I feel about the Little Drummer Boy. I guess we can just add this to the list of things that make me a Scrooge.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Oh, NO.
I stayed up til 1am last night playing with my iPod. I added a bunch of new cd's, downloaded songs from when I was in highschool, and created a bunch of new playlists. What fun!I wish I could tell you it was worth it. I originally intended to tell you all that I think I might be turning into an introvert, but that was before.
Before my entire day went to SHIT.
It all started at 1am last night when I set my alarm for 6:45pm instead of am.
Now, I wish I could tell you that was true.
Instead, it's just what I'm telling my co-workers. In actuality, I thought my boss was going to be out of town early this morning, so I hit the snooze...for an hour.
A word to the wise: If you're toing to play with fire, you'd better damn well make sure that your boss IS OUT OF TOWN.
Imagine my horror when his car was in his spot this morning when I got here, after sitting in traffic for longer than I should have at that late hour, drove through McDonald's where they screwed up my order, and drove around for 15 minutes looking for a parking spot.
Needless to say, the bossman wasn't too happy with me by the time I walked in the door at NINE. THIRTY., only to discover / remember that I have to leave at 11:30 to work at a United Way phone bank until 6pm tonight.
Did I have the heart to tell the bossman that I'm leaving at 11:30 for the rest of the day? Nope.
Sure hope his flights go ok, because he won't be able to get ahold of me.
I hate getting in "trouble." I would ask you to pray for the rest of my day, but I'm keenly aware that everything that has gone wrong today is simply due to my own carelessness, selfishness, laziness, and pridefulness.
On the bright side (the only bright side), I have several new playlists to listen to this morning while I race around trying to get stuff done.
Palylists:
-Memories; songs that take me to a specific time and place (this list will grow over time)
-Songs to teach baby (songs I intend to sing with my baby in the car--yes, AC/DC made the list)
-Lullaby (songs to learn to sing to baby in the rocking chair)
-Christmas (only my select favorites--Nick & Jessica didn't make the cut)
-Envelope Stuffing (fun stuff to listen to while I'm doing a crappy boring job at work)
-P&W (again, I'm trying to be very selective on this one--no MWS, ifyouknowwhatImean)
Friday, November 02, 2007
Boo.
Wa.
Wahhhawaaaa.
That's how I feel.
I don't like anyone.
I don't like doing things.
I don't like helping people with power point presentations.
I don't like going places.
I don't like food.
I don't like anything.
Boo-freaking-hoo.
My neck hurts.
My pants are too short.
I have heartburn.
Angie is crabby.
My mom doesn't feel good.
It's only 10:30, not 2:30.
Like I said.
Boo-freaking-hoo.
I can't even drink wine to go with my whine.
And I'm not supposed to eat effing SOFT CHEESE!
But I'm gonna.
Wahhhawaaaa.
That's how I feel.
I don't like anyone.
I don't like doing things.
I don't like helping people with power point presentations.
I don't like going places.
I don't like food.
I don't like anything.
Boo-freaking-hoo.
My neck hurts.
My pants are too short.
I have heartburn.
Angie is crabby.
My mom doesn't feel good.
It's only 10:30, not 2:30.
Like I said.
Boo-freaking-hoo.
I can't even drink wine to go with my whine.
And I'm not supposed to eat effing SOFT CHEESE!
But I'm gonna.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Closed for Business
I turned off the lights at 8:57.When I get 17-year-olds claiming to be "candy collectors," I'm done.
I probably shouldn't have made fun of them. I'm totally gonna get egged tonight.
At least the cars are in the garage.
As I mentioned to Carla, I hate this "holiday." Dressing up is fun, sure, and handing out candy is usually even more fun, but ...I dunno. I miss the days when costumes took thought and planning. Last year Richard and I went as Olive Oyle and Popeye. If you know either of us, you know this was a VERY good costume, considering our perspective body-types.
A mask to make it look like you have a knife through your rubbery vampire head just doesn't trip my trigger. Especially when you're wearing your Roseville Hockey sweatshirt.
I will try to find a photo of our costumes from last year. They really were very good.
I also think it's worth mentioning that the best costumes tonight were Harry Potter and his Vampire friend. I wasn't convinced until they told me they were "Harry and Scary." They were only about ten. I thought they were pretty cute.
I also think it's worth mentioning that the best costumes tonight were Harry Potter and his Vampire friend. I wasn't convinced until they told me they were "Harry and Scary." They were only about ten. I thought they were pretty cute.
* * *
Boy...upon re-reading this, I sound pretty crotchety.
Next year I'll probably be the mean old lady who hands out peanut butter taffy and root beer barrels.
I guess that's still better than raisins.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Dear Kristi,
You are on my list.
The bottom of my list.
You know what you did.
Sincerely yours,
Your Numero DOS.
p.s. WE. ARE. IN. A FIGHT.
p.p.s. Or, as Micah Gray would say, "LMNOP! I am so mad at you!! LMNOP! You have made me angry! LMNOP! I am a PHILISTINE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
The bottom of my list.
You know what you did.
Sincerely yours,
Your Numero DOS.
p.s. WE. ARE. IN. A FIGHT.
p.p.s. Or, as Micah Gray would say, "LMNOP! I am so mad at you!! LMNOP! You have made me angry! LMNOP! I am a PHILISTINE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
Friday, October 12, 2007
Dear Levis,
I would like to extend a literary handshake to the brilliant mind that came up with STRETCH JEANS.
Which bozo on your board of directors said, "I have a great idea! Let's make all of our jeans 98% cotton and 2% lycra from now on! We'll replace ALL of our jeans with stretchy jeans and make it impossible to find a regular pair of jeans anywhere!!!"? I'd like to meet him.
How do I know it's a "him?" It can't have been a woman. No self-respecting woman looks forward to having a "saggy butt" after two hours of wearing her jeans that fit fine this morning.
If I wanted my jeans to sag and fall down as I walk from the parking lot to work on my FIVE "Nice Jeans Days" out of the year, I would buy them that way.
Yes, I paid $25 to a charity for the priveledge of wearing jeans every Friday between now and Thanksgiving. Yes, this is something I greatly look forward to. Sad? Perhaps.
Not the point.
I want my $25 back. From you.
The joy of "Nice Jeans Days" is smeared all over the pavement like a dead raccoon because I have to pull my pants up all day. All day. A belt does not help. The pants stretch and sag AROUND the belt.
I want my $25 back, because that's at least what it cost me in pride for knowing that my boss saw my ass crack this morning when I reached under my desk to turn on my heater. Not because my jeans were inappropriately low. Oh, no. Because they fit at 7:30 this morning, and by 9, they were three sizes too big.
Thank you very much, Levis.
Please send the check to my home.
Sincerely pissed off and stretched out,
Erin
Which bozo on your board of directors said, "I have a great idea! Let's make all of our jeans 98% cotton and 2% lycra from now on! We'll replace ALL of our jeans with stretchy jeans and make it impossible to find a regular pair of jeans anywhere!!!"? I'd like to meet him.
How do I know it's a "him?" It can't have been a woman. No self-respecting woman looks forward to having a "saggy butt" after two hours of wearing her jeans that fit fine this morning.
If I wanted my jeans to sag and fall down as I walk from the parking lot to work on my FIVE "Nice Jeans Days" out of the year, I would buy them that way.
Yes, I paid $25 to a charity for the priveledge of wearing jeans every Friday between now and Thanksgiving. Yes, this is something I greatly look forward to. Sad? Perhaps.
Not the point.
I want my $25 back. From you.
The joy of "Nice Jeans Days" is smeared all over the pavement like a dead raccoon because I have to pull my pants up all day. All day. A belt does not help. The pants stretch and sag AROUND the belt.
I want my $25 back, because that's at least what it cost me in pride for knowing that my boss saw my ass crack this morning when I reached under my desk to turn on my heater. Not because my jeans were inappropriately low. Oh, no. Because they fit at 7:30 this morning, and by 9, they were three sizes too big.
Thank you very much, Levis.
Please send the check to my home.
Sincerely pissed off and stretched out,
Erin
Monday, October 08, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Nothing to Say
Really.
Nothing.
No, wait. I do have one thing to say.
It doesn't seem fair that friends and acquaintences can read my blog and know what's going on in my life, but they don't comment and don't keep in touch, so I don't know what's going on in their lives.
Does that seem fair to you?
Just something I've been thinking about.
It's really the only downside to blogging that I can come up with.
Gotta go--I need a slushie.
Nothing.
No, wait. I do have one thing to say.
It doesn't seem fair that friends and acquaintences can read my blog and know what's going on in my life, but they don't comment and don't keep in touch, so I don't know what's going on in their lives.
Does that seem fair to you?
Just something I've been thinking about.
It's really the only downside to blogging that I can come up with.
Gotta go--I need a slushie.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
ManiPedi
I went for a manicure/pedicure with Mandi yesterday and therefore opened myself to the ridicule of the manicurist.
She held up my hand and said, "What have you been doing to your fingers? Doesn't this hurt?"
I said, "Yes."
She said, "What? You enjoy the pain?"
I said, "No...I can't help it. I chew on my nails."
"Your nails are in fine shape. Your cuticles look painful!"
"I know...I pick at them."
"You pick at your cuticles?" (Judgy-wudgy was a bear...)
"I can't help it. It's a habit I come by genetically."
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
And that was the end of the conversation--until she realized that I hadn't shaved my legs.
Listen, I don't smoke. I bite and pick at my cuticles when I'm nervous or agitated--which is most of the time. It feels good--satisfying. The way a cigarette must feel to someone who smokes after a meal. So sue me. I suppose shaving my legs would have been the polite thing to do for her, but I forgot. Sue. Me.
But seriously. Why did she think I was there? If I had nice cuticles, I wouldn't need her help. She did a good job, though. I'll definitely be going back. With earplugs.
Judgement from a girl
paid to fix my yucky nails.
Don't want to hear it.
She held up my hand and said, "What have you been doing to your fingers? Doesn't this hurt?"
I said, "Yes."
She said, "What? You enjoy the pain?"
I said, "No...I can't help it. I chew on my nails."
"Your nails are in fine shape. Your cuticles look painful!"
"I know...I pick at them."
"You pick at your cuticles?" (Judgy-wudgy was a bear...)
"I can't help it. It's a habit I come by genetically."
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
And that was the end of the conversation--until she realized that I hadn't shaved my legs.
Listen, I don't smoke. I bite and pick at my cuticles when I'm nervous or agitated--which is most of the time. It feels good--satisfying. The way a cigarette must feel to someone who smokes after a meal. So sue me. I suppose shaving my legs would have been the polite thing to do for her, but I forgot. Sue. Me.
But seriously. Why did she think I was there? If I had nice cuticles, I wouldn't need her help. She did a good job, though. I'll definitely be going back. With earplugs.
Judgement from a girl
paid to fix my yucky nails.
Don't want to hear it.
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