My husband I took our sweet two year old boy to get a haircut this evening. Prior to entering the salon, he ate his favorite meal, walked out of shoe store proudly clutching a bag holding his new pair of sneakers and was the happiest little guy in the world.
Upon entering the salon he was immediately drawn to the hair tonic area. Euphoria was not obtained until all the neatly aligned bottles of product were sprawled out on the floor. He was clapping and laughing with devilish delight every time one of those $20.00 bottle of elixirs toppled over. I should have run while I had the chance. Before I could grab his tiny hand a women (who seemed slightly intimidated) called his name. He gingerly walked to the chair and seemed content to sit in the booster seat. Then it happened. His face turned purple, eyes bulged out of his head, face contorted, arms and legs started flailing about, and the monster inside reared its ugly head. As if this display was not enough, he had to vocalize his objections. A guttural scream immersed and then a high pitched shrill. This shrieking was sound enough to break glass. The hairdressers ears started dribbling blood, her calm demeanor instantly changed. She had a look of terror in her eyes. To her credit, she expertly cut and buzzed the beasts fur.
When the strange women with the scissors (our hero, Xena of the cuttery) finally slaughtered the wilder beast; it retreated. In his place was a smiling happy little boy. He looked up at the hair dresser with his beautiful, liquid blue eyes, gave her a heart melting smile and said “thank you!”
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
aging
I believe I have come up with a mathematical improbability, and impossibility. I am no mathematician but the equation I have been pondering seems to have no answer. My brain is spinning as I type this, maybe one of my faithful few will have the answer.
Pay attention, take notes and grab your calculators!
How is it my circle of friends have reached the age spectrum of 35-45? They are complaining about grey hairs, and extra 10 lbs, not having the energy they used to and (gasp) spider veins. This is where your math skills come into play; ready…I have not aged since my 25th birthday. I know, some of you say phooey, impossible, but I only speak the truth.
There is more to this perplexing puzzle, others do not see me as the sexy 25 year old I know I am. The cashier at the market had the audacity to call me “ma’am. “Hello, perky breasted 22 y/o, get an eye exam!” The asshole bartender who was obviously having a bad day, hence leading to the negligence in his duty, did not ask me for my i.d – WHAT are you kidding me??!!. I whipped out my newly minted ID rudely and stated “read this you stupid lard ass, I barely look 21, there is no way you could ever guess I am of drinking age! I think the alcohol police better look into the business you are running!”
The worst offender was my friends’ teen age son. He informed he is attending 80’s theme party, and the little dickens must have thought he was funny when he asked for my advice on what to wear. As if I would have any clue!
To all my friends, you are all beautiful and growing old with class and grace. I hope when I reach your age I can look half as good as you. Love you all!
Pay attention, take notes and grab your calculators!
How is it my circle of friends have reached the age spectrum of 35-45? They are complaining about grey hairs, and extra 10 lbs, not having the energy they used to and (gasp) spider veins. This is where your math skills come into play; ready…I have not aged since my 25th birthday. I know, some of you say phooey, impossible, but I only speak the truth.
There is more to this perplexing puzzle, others do not see me as the sexy 25 year old I know I am. The cashier at the market had the audacity to call me “ma’am. “Hello, perky breasted 22 y/o, get an eye exam!” The asshole bartender who was obviously having a bad day, hence leading to the negligence in his duty, did not ask me for my i.d – WHAT are you kidding me??!!. I whipped out my newly minted ID rudely and stated “read this you stupid lard ass, I barely look 21, there is no way you could ever guess I am of drinking age! I think the alcohol police better look into the business you are running!”
The worst offender was my friends’ teen age son. He informed he is attending 80’s theme party, and the little dickens must have thought he was funny when he asked for my advice on what to wear. As if I would have any clue!
To all my friends, you are all beautiful and growing old with class and grace. I hope when I reach your age I can look half as good as you. Love you all!
Monday, March 29, 2010
infinate wisdom
Ok my faithful few. By now you know that I am a virtual endless machine of knowledge. I decided to share some of my wisdom and knowledge with you. I hope this improves your quality of life. So here goes nothing…
Bad perms DO happen to good people
You will not marry the first boy you kiss
Parents know more than we do
Your car is not going to make it another 3 miles when you run out of gas
Not matter how fun it may seem, never and I do mean NEVER stand up in a canoe
Mohair sweaters are itchy
If you can smell your feet, others can too
No one will think you are more beautiful than your parents do
Take the microphone away from your drunk friend BEFORE they sing karaoke
Fish are shitty pets
I have plenty more to share, but I don’t want to waste it all in one blog. I hope you take all of this to heart. No need for others to suffer the same fate as I.. Learn from my mistakes, I implore you!!!
Bad perms DO happen to good people
You will not marry the first boy you kiss
Parents know more than we do
Your car is not going to make it another 3 miles when you run out of gas
Not matter how fun it may seem, never and I do mean NEVER stand up in a canoe
Mohair sweaters are itchy
If you can smell your feet, others can too
No one will think you are more beautiful than your parents do
Take the microphone away from your drunk friend BEFORE they sing karaoke
Fish are shitty pets
I have plenty more to share, but I don’t want to waste it all in one blog. I hope you take all of this to heart. No need for others to suffer the same fate as I.. Learn from my mistakes, I implore you!!!
Poor me
A tragedy has hit my life – I mean it my faithful few, a gross travesty! I have nothing to lament over. I truly miss saying poor pitiful me. I do not know if these feelings are “normal” but they are mine. Fore some odd reason I enjoy making those around me miserable with my poor attitude.
First, I would walk scuffling my feet thinking I am in my early thirties and not married (little did I know at the time that was NOTHING to be sad about). Check that one off my list for the pity party.
Then it was I have been married for 5 years, poor me, guess I will be childless, how truly upsetting. Well, we all know that is no longer the case. Chalk it up for one less poor me moment.
After the baby, I would walk around thinking, I am smart and talented, why won’t anyone hire me? There must be something very wrong with me. I must suck. Why can’t I even get a call back on my resume? Surely I am a horrible resume writer, oh boy pathetic ol’ me. I got a great job that I love, hmm, guess I am not so pathetic.
So here I sit, trying to find something to bitch about. Attempting to locate what it may be that I can spring upon my husband to inform him of the misery that is my life. I am at a complete loss, so not like me.
I could afford to lose a few pounds. I think I will drop that bomb on my husband. I will let him know that I am completely upset and heartsick regarding the fact I have put on a few pounds. I will be sure to bitch and mope about this for the next 3 months. He will be blasted with it at least three times a day. What fun is it to be miserable without taking someone down with you?!
First, I would walk scuffling my feet thinking I am in my early thirties and not married (little did I know at the time that was NOTHING to be sad about). Check that one off my list for the pity party.
Then it was I have been married for 5 years, poor me, guess I will be childless, how truly upsetting. Well, we all know that is no longer the case. Chalk it up for one less poor me moment.
After the baby, I would walk around thinking, I am smart and talented, why won’t anyone hire me? There must be something very wrong with me. I must suck. Why can’t I even get a call back on my resume? Surely I am a horrible resume writer, oh boy pathetic ol’ me. I got a great job that I love, hmm, guess I am not so pathetic.
So here I sit, trying to find something to bitch about. Attempting to locate what it may be that I can spring upon my husband to inform him of the misery that is my life. I am at a complete loss, so not like me.
I could afford to lose a few pounds. I think I will drop that bomb on my husband. I will let him know that I am completely upset and heartsick regarding the fact I have put on a few pounds. I will be sure to bitch and mope about this for the next 3 months. He will be blasted with it at least three times a day. What fun is it to be miserable without taking someone down with you?!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
TV
I fear it! I fear for my child, your children and all the innocently children across the world. What could bring such intimidation to me you ask? I will share. It is a very innocent looking thin box; it is about 52” long and hangs unassumingly on the wall above the fireplace. It is the TV!!! I am shaking as I type those two simple letters.
I will explain. What my child sees on the box is frightening. He watches a show with singing “things” They appear to me to be condoms. They are oval, rubbery and one them even has ribbing. I do not lie – this is true. Along with these dancing creatures is a man with a large head, orange hair and Buddy Holly glasses that pops up o the screen yelling. He is the epitome of the boogeyman. I fear the day (very far into the future) that mine son has to go to the local pharmacy to buy profolatex. He will innocently open the box, and have flashbacks to when he was just a toddler of two. He will curse me under his breath, he will think “I cannot believe my mother let me watch a show with singing and dancing condoms on it”. It could scar him emotionally for life
Also emitting from that box is a little dude name Noddy. This elflike person drives around the town in his fancy sports car handing out wrapped gifts to all. He also has a plane that he lands in the middle of the town square. Prior to his arrival the town folks are walking along as if they are waiting for the methadone clinic to open. Once he arrives the town junkies light up and they have vim and vigor in their step. He does not have a job, (how can afford such a luxury vehicle and plane)? His biggest clients and best friends are the local policemen. What is in those boxes? I believe it is drugs! There are evil gnomes that attempt to intercept these packages and take them for their own use. I am the most horrible parent on the planet, I allow my innocent boy to watch these corruptive shows. What am I letting him learn? Is he too young to learn that selling drugs gets you the girls and the nice car?
The absolute worst of these shows is Cailou. This 4 year old sissy whines more than I do with a few drinks in me while PMSing. His voice goes through me, he makes me want to take a .45 caliber to my temple. He is never happy; his parents need to place him on Prozac immediately! NO child of that age should be so miserable!
With that being said, my child is looking at the big box, yelling for me to turn it on. With any luck I will be able to locate an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, Noddy or Cailou for him to watch.
I will explain. What my child sees on the box is frightening. He watches a show with singing “things” They appear to me to be condoms. They are oval, rubbery and one them even has ribbing. I do not lie – this is true. Along with these dancing creatures is a man with a large head, orange hair and Buddy Holly glasses that pops up o the screen yelling. He is the epitome of the boogeyman. I fear the day (very far into the future) that mine son has to go to the local pharmacy to buy profolatex. He will innocently open the box, and have flashbacks to when he was just a toddler of two. He will curse me under his breath, he will think “I cannot believe my mother let me watch a show with singing and dancing condoms on it”. It could scar him emotionally for life
Also emitting from that box is a little dude name Noddy. This elflike person drives around the town in his fancy sports car handing out wrapped gifts to all. He also has a plane that he lands in the middle of the town square. Prior to his arrival the town folks are walking along as if they are waiting for the methadone clinic to open. Once he arrives the town junkies light up and they have vim and vigor in their step. He does not have a job, (how can afford such a luxury vehicle and plane)? His biggest clients and best friends are the local policemen. What is in those boxes? I believe it is drugs! There are evil gnomes that attempt to intercept these packages and take them for their own use. I am the most horrible parent on the planet, I allow my innocent boy to watch these corruptive shows. What am I letting him learn? Is he too young to learn that selling drugs gets you the girls and the nice car?
The absolute worst of these shows is Cailou. This 4 year old sissy whines more than I do with a few drinks in me while PMSing. His voice goes through me, he makes me want to take a .45 caliber to my temple. He is never happy; his parents need to place him on Prozac immediately! NO child of that age should be so miserable!
With that being said, my child is looking at the big box, yelling for me to turn it on. With any luck I will be able to locate an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, Noddy or Cailou for him to watch.
Knock offs
I hope not to offend anyone with this blog, but I must speak of a horrible atrocity. There are few fashion faux paus bigger than the one I dare speak!. So here it goes. Ladies (and if the shoe fits, gentlemen) I implore you, do not carry knock off handbags. It is a sight that utterly disgusts me!
You may be fooled into thinking no one will ever be able to tell. You are WRONG! I can spot the off color of cheap leather and the horrible cutting and stitching from a mile away. They look cheap and you appear to be a phony wana be while wearing the offending culprit across your shoulder.
Ladies, ladies, ladies, there are very nice bags available at the local chain stores. They are a much better choice than buying a purse at a party or the flea market that has backwards “C’s” on it, or LV’s that look nothing like the true monogram.
When I see you carrying your fake Prada, Spade, Coach, Luis, Doone etc, I want to begin an intervention immediately. I want to carry your tail to the local chain store and show you other options, open your mind. Please!!!!!
The lure of the knock-off is easy to be taken in by to be taken by. They are being hawked at every corner. You will see a bag and think to yourself “This is great, I can get me a $600.00 bag for $12.9.9” Get those thoughts out of you head, and run as fast as you can . Trust me you are hurting no one but yourself (and possibly me and the fashion police)
Only you can help to prevent this unnatural injustice and fashion genocide.
I have mentioned before, I am not judgmental, and it is your right to carry a trashy, cheap handbag. However, I do feel it is my place to help you. I am available 24/7 . If you feel the need to reach into your pocket and pull out hard earned cash for a terribly made knock-off, please contact me immediately, I will talk you down. It may take time and patience, but I am her for you!
One last thought….
As my friend D.A. so eloquently stated “ I have friends north of rt 24 that can sniff these fakes out and they will laugh you all of the way home!”
You may be fooled into thinking no one will ever be able to tell. You are WRONG! I can spot the off color of cheap leather and the horrible cutting and stitching from a mile away. They look cheap and you appear to be a phony wana be while wearing the offending culprit across your shoulder.
Ladies, ladies, ladies, there are very nice bags available at the local chain stores. They are a much better choice than buying a purse at a party or the flea market that has backwards “C’s” on it, or LV’s that look nothing like the true monogram.
When I see you carrying your fake Prada, Spade, Coach, Luis, Doone etc, I want to begin an intervention immediately. I want to carry your tail to the local chain store and show you other options, open your mind. Please!!!!!
The lure of the knock-off is easy to be taken in by to be taken by. They are being hawked at every corner. You will see a bag and think to yourself “This is great, I can get me a $600.00 bag for $12.9.9” Get those thoughts out of you head, and run as fast as you can . Trust me you are hurting no one but yourself (and possibly me and the fashion police)
Only you can help to prevent this unnatural injustice and fashion genocide.
I have mentioned before, I am not judgmental, and it is your right to carry a trashy, cheap handbag. However, I do feel it is my place to help you. I am available 24/7 . If you feel the need to reach into your pocket and pull out hard earned cash for a terribly made knock-off, please contact me immediately, I will talk you down. It may take time and patience, but I am her for you!
One last thought….
As my friend D.A. so eloquently stated “ I have friends north of rt 24 that can sniff these fakes out and they will laugh you all of the way home!”
Saturday, March 27, 2010
It is your choice
Alright my faithful few. I may be going mad, but I am going to try a social experiment.
I will allow you all to choose an activity for me to do one day next weekend. It can be anything, i.e. make a bundt cake, wash the car, feed the homeless, watch a particular movie, the ideas are endless. I will choose one job from your input. I will attempt the deed and post pics to prove I gave it the old college try.
There are a few rules:
It cannot be costly
1. It cannot be death defying
2. I must be able to complete the task in no more than four hours
3. I will pick a task from the list of ideas compiled on Thursday.
Let’s get this thing started, post your ideas under the comments icon below.
Wish me luck!!!!
I will allow you all to choose an activity for me to do one day next weekend. It can be anything, i.e. make a bundt cake, wash the car, feed the homeless, watch a particular movie, the ideas are endless. I will choose one job from your input. I will attempt the deed and post pics to prove I gave it the old college try.
There are a few rules:
It cannot be costly
1. It cannot be death defying
2. I must be able to complete the task in no more than four hours
3. I will pick a task from the list of ideas compiled on Thursday.
Let’s get this thing started, post your ideas under the comments icon below.
Wish me luck!!!!
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