Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Letter to My Neighbor-Guys

Dear Neighbor-Guys,

Thank you so much for your support today whilst I was running. It meant so much to me that you gave me a wave and yelled "Yeah, titties!" from your VW as you drove by me. Without neighbors like you, I don't know how I could continue running. If you truly appreciated the show, I will be sitting on the stoop this evening while my daughter naps. You can drop by a sizable tip if you'd like. Or perhaps my "titties" and I will run into you at the neighborhood Halloween party tonight at the clubhouse. In either case, thank you again for your undying respect.

Runs with Titties Bouncing
(my Native American name)

P.S. I do 3-6 miles per day. What do your pot-smoking asses do? YOU WANNA GO, SUCKAS?!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

The Barrel Train

Inquiring minds were asking, "What the hell is your child daring to ride on at the pumpkin patch?" Well, all, it's a line of old barrels on wheels strung together and pulled by a small tractor. Here is a subsection of the "train":
Just because I'm a jackass, and in case you are completely concrete jungle raised and you've never ever been in the country, here is a tractor:

And I think since the barrels are more than likely old chemical barrels (from a certain company with whom I may or may not have been employed), those of you who don't like modern farming will probably give me this:

Spoil sports. Jeez. It's not like they aren't CLEAN! And before any anti-chem panties get in MAJOR wads - the farm chem once residing in these barrels is inert to humans. Although, the barrels can be purchased for farmers to mix their own chem, so it's entirely possible that these were purchased just to make the train and never held any chem at all. That will help me avoid any possible egging of my home or car, right?

Obligatory Fall Pictures

Today's post is sponsored by introspection, solemnity, and silence. In other words, I'm just not that freaking funny today. *long sigh*

I am so glad that fall is finally here. For those of you with the misfortune of not living in a section of this country that experiences the autumn color change, I offer the below images from our trip to the pumpkin patch this past weekend. Although the leaves are not quite in full color-changing swing yet, the signs are quite apparent that the show will be fabulous this fall.

And because everyone loves pictures of kids, here's one of Little Diva at said location enjoying her afternoon of being able to run around and be LOUD:

It was a really nice day out for all of us. Little Diva had her first horseback ride this weekend, and we had the good fortune to serendipitously meet up with a couple of friends at the farm. By, the way, here is Little Diva with her future husband:

Anyway, LD is at school, hubby is napping, and we have no groceries. I suppose I'll head out and forage for some food at the supermarket. *YAWN* Maybe I will have some ridiculous observation when I get back...

Friday, October 26, 2007

Hanukkah Shampoo and Melting Mom of the Year

There is a strange phenomenon that's been occurring in my shower for approximately the last two weeks. I heart Matrix Amplify shampoo so much that I might consider giving an appendage for it. My bottle should have run out weeks ago, but for some reason, every time I reach for it there is still enough to get me through that particular shower. And that's without adding any water to get it out. It simply will not run out! Therefore, I know the joy of that special thing I like to call Hanukkah Shampoo. I'm retarded.

On the heels of the Bedroom Confessions post, I would like to offer up a particular snippet of video sent to me by someone who shall remain nameless. This is basically a great representation of how CHOWDAH could be restored in my home; please note the dialogue. The HOT ACTOR might be a nice feature as well.

OH MY GOD! GO AHEAD, BABY! SOMEONE PLEASE HOSE ME THE FUCK DOWN! I am such a sucker for an awesome kissing scene, and this one takes the cake, er, uh pie. SERIOUSLY! If Donnie Wahlberg were any hotter in this scene, I truly believe my entire body would melt into a fucking puddle on the ground. The end.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Bedroom Confessional

OK, for some unknown reason, I am privy to truckloads of dirty dirt on just about all of my girlfriends. I am honored to hold such secrets and revelations and will not divulge any of them here (really). Conversations of the CHOWDAH sort usually begin with a friend saying these words: "OK, this is kind of TMI." But I think they say that as a sanity-checker for themselves. I, quite honestly, believe we are all freaks of some sort or another, and perhaps that's why people tell me things. Anyway, since many of you have let me in on certain bits of your bedrooms, I will give you one of mine. Don't worry - it's not TMI, just really funny.

So we've all heard the shit about sometimes just needing to do the wifely duty for his sake, right? I know that all of us are not programmed to run on such a circuit 24/7, so here is my fix for you. I keep a mental fishbowl full of slips of paper containing the names of certain attractive males I will never in all the fire of hell have the opportunity to, um, bang the living daylights out of. Note: no one that I know or that is the property of someone I know is fair game. On one of those nights when just getting it done for his sake is the goal, a cool thing happens in my brain. Have you ever been to a theatrical production where a character is being played by an understudy? Stick with me here. Generally, there is an announcement made that the understudy will be playing the role of such-and-such character. THIS IS THE COOLEST EVER! A little man in a soft voice pops into my head before said act and announces, "This evening for your enjoyment, the part of hubby will be played by (insert fishbowl name)." And, voila, you have a more entertaining time. Odd? Maybe. Better fantasy? Definitely. He cares? HELL NO! He wins no matter what. Period. Feel free to use this one any time.

I'm sure you're dying to know who's in the fishbowl. All I can say is that the fishbowl may or may not include (in no particular order): Donnie Wahlberg, Johnny Depp, Edward Norton, Leonard DiCaprio, Vince Vaughn, and several others. Perhaps I need a larger fishbowl since the vacuum incident...


Target Panick Attack

DEAR GOD HELP ME! Little Diva and I ventured into the whimsy that is Target to pick up some stupid crap like paper towels and light bulbs. You know, the stuff you just can't wait to spend money on (right now I'd rather buy a couple of martinis than be able to see in my house at night). Anyway, while we were perusing the various visually delectable wares at Target, I decided that since it is getting a bit chilly here, I need to pick up some more running/laying around the house attire. I went to the sportswear section and started looking for my favorite fall/winter separates of all time. At first I didn't see anything, so I checked around more slowly than the first round. And again a little faster. And again. And by the fourth time around the department, I was so frantic that Little Diva actually said to me, "Mommy, do you not feel well? Please slow down." I was pacing around the racks like someone looking for a way out in a Friday the 13th film. And yet, I NEVER FOUND THE BLACK SLIGHTLY-CLINGY BUT MAKE MY BUTT LOOK MUCH SMALLER YOGA PANTS. If they have opted out of this particular merchandise selection, MY LIFE IS OVER! First the vacuum, then the pants. What next, the apocalypse???

Addendum: I ended up blowing a cool $189 on household BS, one CUTE outfit for LD, a couple of workout clothes items, dogfood, lightbulbs, paper towels, Halloween candy, and Halloween sparkle shoes for LD, who will be going as Cinderella. Because I know you really wanted to know this shit. Also, I got out my wallet and told the cashier, "I don't have any money, but these people will send you some." I put my card in the card reader and she stared at me like she didn't get it. Ok. I guess I'm lame. As you were, troops. Comment away.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Anti-CHOWDAH (props to Tessie)

OK, first I must give myself a large shout out for my fitness efforts today. I interval trained for approximately 4.5 miles (cue applause track; standing ovation optional but suggested, thankyouverymuch). Holy hellcats! I am finding myself to be much stronger than thought, so this is a total bonus.

HOWEVER, after returning from my excursion around the neighborhood, I found this subtle symbol of my husband's love for me: Meet our vacuum cleaner. Yes - out, plugged in, and ready to go. FOR ME! Are you fucking serious? This seems to be a regular occurrence in our home. He gets it out, plugs it in, and then leaves for work. Ummmmmm, yeah. I believe I think about CHOWDAH more than any other person in the world these days, but for reasons such as the aforementioned misogyny, THE FACTORY SHALL REMAIN CLOSED. More on possible solutions to my debauchery debacle later.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Oh yes, I am completely in the throes of the third-of-life crisis. What's that, you ask? Well, it's that time in your life when you look around and basically say, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?" And then you spend the rest of your time trying to figure out how the hell you can claim your life back. So that's where our journey begins.

Today was Little Diva's half day at school. I spent the first half of my free time getting in the run/walk head clearing/workout and the second half driving around, hitting Starbucks, and rediscovering the joy that was my former self, which needs to be continued past this pinnacle of life we call motherhood. I hate that I lost myself, yet love that I am finding myself again. And I get to reinvent myself in the process. How cool is that? SO on that note, I have again professed my love for Rage Against The Machine to the dismay of fellow drivers at stoplights. If you were out today in my hood, yes, that indeed was me in the Honda with the empty car seat in the back and blaring renegade madness. Ahhhh. It feels so good to be home. For your entertainment, I promise many updates on the REBIRTH OF SLICK (wink SY). It's sure to be an interesting ride, so please stay tuned. And BUCKLE UP, for the love of god!!!

On a completely unrelated note, just for my curiosity, here's the question of the day. Please discuss in the comments (be brave for my sanity's sake, you non-posters):

What do you think I look like?

And those of you who know me, pretend you don't and that all you have to go on is blogger content to describe my appearance...

Monday, October 22, 2007

It's Just Like Christmas

Yes, girls, today is that special holiday that comes only once a year - the annual gyno exam. I just love the paper gown and the crampiness that follows. Perhaps I will pen some appropriate carols to celebrate this holiday later.

I shall be removing all doors and light switches from my home. Little Diva is driving me BAT-SHIT CRAZY with them. It goes like this: open/close, open/close, "please don't do that," open/close, open/close, "do you need a time out to calm down," open/close (with a guilty glance), TIME OUT. On/off, on/off, "I asked you before not to do that," on/off (mischievous grin), "please stop or you'll be in time out," on/off, "that's enough, go to your room." AHHHHHHHHHHH. Repeat pattern hundreds of times throughout the day until mom is ready to pack her bags and get out of town on the next thing smoking. While I admit that light at literally the flip of a switch is quite a cool phenomenon, this is fucking insane. I would change all electrical appliances to The Clapper to avoid switches, but I think we know what THAT would do to me. Moving on...

Yesterday I had the pleasure of having lunch with SY at Noodles and Company. YAY! It was good to be outside and get some "big-people" conversation time. However, the unexpected occurred as Little Diva demonstrated for SY exactly why alcoholism is so prevalent among stay-at-home moms. By the way, I did have a drink at 3 PM (but I swear it was just one, and we were out of Coke anyway).

For all of you lit enthusiasts, I've posted a partial journal entry at which may or may not become a creative non-fiction piece. Feel free to stop by and comment if you'd like.

Anyway, gotta hop in the shower and get ready for THE HOLIDAY. Later, taters...

Friday, October 19, 2007

Found: Sense of Humor

Apparently, I'd left it at bananafana's house, which is where I just came from at 11:30 PM. What's that, you say? 11:30 PM? Holy shit! Yes, it's true. I had several offers of serenity from those of you who checked the blog earlier. Thank you all, by the way, for lovin' on me. While hubs is at work tonight, I was treated to pizza and a toddler free-for-all at bananafana's, to whom I express much gratitude for the hiatus from my normal evening chaos.

On the way home, after rehashing some college memories, I felt nostalgic. As luck would have it, on the 2 mile ride from her home there is that beacon of college bliss - TACO BELL! I went through the drive-thru (with sleeping Diva in tow) and ordered up that mid-party delicacy I loved so well at my alma mater - the CHALUPA! Dear God, is there anything wonderful you CAN'T create? As an added bonus, the guy who works the late night window looks just like Fiddy and referred to me as "girl" and "baby" several times. In my prior life, I believe that would have counted as "game." Damn. Awesome. All of this on a Friday night. I know - it's fucking unbelievable.

I should probably head to bed and continue planning how this momma's gonna get her groove back. I think it will involve the reintroduction of studded leather belts and some really awesome hair. But before I go...

Riding on the coat tails of several bloggers' Starbucks stories, I would like to make a contribution. Yesterday, I went in to order my usual, which is the best way to order at a place with so many beverage options (uh, by the way, non-regulars, if you don't know what the hell you want or how to order it, step aside and watch us pros FIRST before you hold up the line and make an ass of yourself). These guys have a good idea of what I want, but I obediently step up and say "venti iced chai non-fat." Now, I've been doing this for a while on a somewhat regular basis, but every FUCKING time I order, I somehow screw the word order. I thought I had them this time, but NAW! I gave my order, and one barista looks at another and yet rearranges my words. Here's the difference. Today, I audibly said, "DAMN! I thought I had it right this time. I'm gonna get you bastards one of these days!" Good thing these guys know me well enough to laugh...

Until tomorrow...


Ok, kids. It's one of those days (the second of two in a row, I might add). Here is the list of things that are irritating the ever-loving SHIT out of me:

1) Little Diva whining/drama
2) The Battle of Naptime
3) Having to take LD on the run/walk today (don't GET me started)
4) My office is a wreck
5) Didn't get to my "Good" writing yesterday; today looks bleak as well
6) Deck is still not weatherproofed
7) I need a haircut and highlights (in some weird color, perhaps)
8) Husband is being a MAJOR ASSHAT
9) I need to go grocery shopping
10) Starbucks is so close but so far away
11) The night shift
12) UAW contract rejected
13) Hubby thinks I'm nuts
14) Sex? What's that?
15) Compensation for #14 needs to be replaced soon

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Can you relate? TO make it even, I'll post happy things later, possibly after I FIND MY FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

9 Pounds KO'ed - BUH BYE

Hey, girls! Well, the walking is paying off. I've always maintained that I don't overeat - I under do. And the scale is agreeing with me - 2 weeks and 9 pounds are gone like yesterday's garbage. YAY!

Anyway, I was really ambitious yesterday and decided to tackle a huge spot on our carpet that couldn't be anymore obvious if it were bright red paint (we have grayish-white carpet in most of our house). So I hit it with the carpet cleaner and it all amazingly came up. One problem - it's the only spot of CLEAN carpet in the entire house now. Dammit. Now I need to go rent a Rug Doctor before our little fall soiree in November. And I'll have to do the steps, too (insert sad face with single tear).

Holy shit. Little Diva is going through this whining stage with EVERYTHING! It's driving me fucking crazy!!! Despite repeated attempts to require the "nice voice" for any action from a parental figure, the whiiiiniiing continues. On top of that, we are currently fighting the Battle of Naptime. I swear to god I'm going to lose it with this...

Why an I in such a funky mood? Could it be that mommy needs a GIRLIE DAY? DID SOMEONE JUST SAY THAT PAYDAY IS TOMORROW? Perhaps on Saturday, I will head out and do some girl stuff just for me. I'll have my e-mail forwarded to Sephora in case you all need me ('cuz I know you do). Hmmmm. Black and white shopping bags holding the keys to eternal good looks and femininity. I think that will do nicely.

I'm going to write something else later. I need to go find my sense of humor. It's somewhere around here...

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

This and That (A Vacation Break)

AH, yes, today is Tuesday. It's Children's Day Out Day (aka Mommy Sanity Day). Do you hear that? ME NEITHER! It's quiet on the midwestern front. Let me soak it up for a second.

I'm sitting here in the office wanting to post a bit before I hit the outdoors for my walk. It's sunny today, with some intermittent clouds. Overall, the weather is great and it's one of those days where you find yourself smiling all of the time. I love days like this - me, the sunshine, and the Dell. And in a moment, me with my homeys and my thoughts for my next writing venture. I actually started on a short story last night that has been taking up mind space for some years. It's time to get that bitch on some paper, yes? Hopefully, I'll have a rough draft teaser up on sometime in the near future. It's funny because this one is not the type of stuff I want when I look for a good book, but it's very enjoyable to write.

Anyway, thought I'd give you a toddler bit. A few days ago, Little Diva and I were headed downstairs after naptime. She turned to me mid-staircase and said, "Mommy, where's my body?" I was a little surprised by that comment. I said, "Well, sugars, you're walking in it." Isn't that odd? I think what she was actually referring to was her shadow, which has been a source of sheer curiosity lately. It was kind of cute, but I couldn't help laugh thinking about what she said because it's entirely how I've felt over the last several months! I think they just have this intuition...

On the vacation posting... well, I think it's one of those things that is way funnier if you were there. So I may post some more pix with captions later and let you all fill in the blanks. I'm lame. The post yesterday wasn't as funny as I imagined, so I'll try and be just informative later and let you find your own humor in the whole thing.

Well, off to walk. Gotta make that mind, body, spirit, connection.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Scenes From A Road Trip Part I

Hey, my lovelies! I trust everyone's weekend was great. The fam and I thoroughly enjoyed our time down in good ol' Mississippi for Papaw's 90th birthday. However, I must say, WHAT A RIOT! Here's how it went down:

Scene 1: Driving through Missouri, I suddenly became aware of how people from the northern parts of the US assume that Missouri is somehow a southern state. It's because we have completely ignorant names for towns such as this:

Yep, that's right, folks. COOTER, MISSOURI! We almost ventured out to find the "Welcome to Cooter" sign, but it was too far off the beaten path and Little Diva was snoozing. Had to take advantage of the precious driving time. This highway exit sign will have to do. Can you even imagine? "Where are you from?" "Cooter, Missouri." How the hell can any reasonable human being say that one with a straight face???

Scene 2: Dogfight

Before I get conVICKted by PETA, this totally happened by accident (well, it would be an accident if I didn't foresee this). My MIL has two powder-puff spa dogs that make me ill. MIL decided it would be great to bring them along; not that she would EVER dream of leaving "the kids" at home. These dogs, well, the treatment of them makes me want to barf. Bear in mind that there are already three dogs that live on the property (a Rottweiler, a Weineraumer, and a Rat Terrier). So FOO FOO stupid dogs get out of the car and the mean of the two decided to pick on the Rottie. So all the craziness of my MIL freaking out ensues. She and the powder puffs are already the focus of every family joke, so this just adds to the hilarity of the ongoing saga. Note: no animals were injured, but MIL did make them retire to over-obnoxious puppy suites early from the assault.

Scene 3: Finding Lula Baptist Church in Lula, MS where the party was held.

Uh, OK, don't bother with a map because I'm willing to bet it's just not on there. The town practically doesn't exist in real life let alone in some cartography program. You take 2 bad roads off the interstate, follow two more nonexistent roads, and look for the spot where the least number of roaming dogs congregates (leaving a trail of bread crumbs might be a good idea). We missed the turn twice and ended up touring the remains of what was once a very tiny old town. It is now pretty much populated desolation. But if anyone needs a cheap summer home, there are a few for sale. HA HA HA!

We'll return for the second half later. Don't worry; the second part is MUCH better...

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The Bounce Factor

I'm still reeling from the comments graciously left by Paul Joannides, author of "Guide to Getting It On." Alas, I will put on my poker face and complain for you today about my latest irritation, affectionately named "The Bounce Factor."

Here's how this thing works. I am on a quest to have the less-than-ideal outside of me match my svelte, sexy inside being. I have begun walking and running again on a daily basis in effort to conquer the mom body with which I've been "blessed." This whole exercise deal has been great on a number of fronts (mental, creative, sex goddess wanna-be, and lastly health). However, it has been less than pleasurable on the real front of me. Really. The boobs.

I start out and get things pumping with my ganstas in my ear buds. When I get sick of walking, I switch to running. And therein lies the problem. After about 3.5 minutes, my boobs have smacked me in the chin and upper arm so many times, I have to stop or someone will accuse my husband of being a wife-beater. Oh, and the mams burn with all the fury of hell. Thus, the bounce factor is sabotaging my running effort (or, as in earlier grammar, "harshin' on my running buzz"). Shin splints? Fatigue? Whatever. It's the BOOBS that get me every time.

So do I commit to walking like my ass is on fire until the boobs go down? Or do I suck it up and continue running as my boobs make me look like a human pinata (much to the delight of teenage boys in the neighborhood)? I have yet to find the perfect bra solution to this situation, as even the best fitting sports bra has no elastic left by the time my first interval is over. HELP ME!!! I mean, can anyone relate???

Also, I will be attending a 90th birthday celebration in honor of Hubby's grandfather this weekend. We will be traveling to Mississippi for the festivities, so I will not be able to chat with you all until Sunday. Upon my return, I will probably have some pictures which will make you all question my values, but will be side-splittingly funny. Little Diva is still fighting a cough and crabbiness for which there is no solution (other than Motrin and a humidifier), so we'll see how this car ride goes. Keep your fingers crossed that no one makes us "TURN THIS CAR AROUND, YOUNG LADY!"

I wish you all (ya'll) a happy and safe weekend. Please pray that no one in the family ends up shot by celebration gunfire.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Take-Out Food Ban Lifted

Without any of the grandeur and shit-slinging I expected (and shamefully kind of hoped for), the strike is already over. Picket signs, go back to your usual sheds. Workers pick up your usual tools. There's a tentative contract on the table; the opposing team has decided to pack it up and go home. That was so uneventul that I'm a little sad. No pictures of hubby holding a picket sign.

On the upside, we will be having take-out for dinner. JUST SAY NO TO GRILLED CHEESE! Unless, of course, the members don't vote to accept the deal. Then we're back at square one. But in the meantime, it's restaurant food tonight, baby!

Thanks to all for enjoying this brief adventure with me. Again, as a white-collar, I'm still scratching my head. It's like being involved in a car accident. What the hell just happened?

It's Officially Official

Well, girls, I'm no longer a strike virgin. At 11 AM today, Chrysler workers put down their tools (in the middle of what they were doing) and walked off the job. That is so strange to me. I've been through 2 white-collar lay-offs, and that's about the scope of my understanding about leaving a job. So this stuff is completely weird.

I've been cruising the internet checking out the news spots on this story, and I've been reading the message boards. Boy, when did America become so anti-fellow human being? Yuck. Somehow people have really nasty things to say about the UAW and its employees, and that kind of gets me all hot under the proverbial blue collar. I think there's a lot of misinformation out there about the UAW workers and exactly what their benefits and such are, but the overall reaction seems to be that people really want them all to be jobless and be anti-UAW. While, to a certain extent, I agree with the last half of the statement, why do people want other families to fail financially? I don't get it, and it's a little bit heartbreaking. But, they're haters, and if the UAW did go down, they would feel the economic crunch, too. So fuck the haters.

This is somewhat like watching the last game of the World Series for me. The strike could end in a day or in months - no one really knows. It all depends on what contract is delivered from the mound and whether or not the batter will take a swing. I'm actually kind of excited. But again, I think that's because we have options. I do feel a lot for those families out there right now who don't have the same opportunities; this really can be a scary time for them.

Oh well. Just wanted to check in and let you all know that I get to have the inside scoop on strike life for all of us who never understood it growing up. Perhaps this will become the premise for my blockbuster novel???

On a happy note, I know how much everyone loves pix. So if Hubby gets picket duty, I will be sure to post his debut right here...

Tuesday, October 9, 2007


Ok, so my understanding is that when a guy isn't working, the male psyche takes a pretty big beating. In order to combat potential strike "ego deflation," I'm compiling a list of available semi-manly projects that my dear-God-don't-make-me-use-a-chainsaw husband wouldn't mind doing. These things must be easy to complete, require little planning, and not be too girly or too woodsman-like either. So help me out here. I have a few things I think I'll toss in the mix, but I'm open to ideas:

spackle holes from prior maze of baby safety gates
rub mom of the year's feet
hang decorative iron work that's been residing on the floor for over one year
give mom of the year a massage
power wash minuscule deck (is that too much toolage???)
make mom of the year dinner
seal minuscule deck with wood sealer (again, too much labor???)
detail mom the of the year's car
pick up dog poop in backyard
feed mom of the year strawberries and champagne
add new mulch to small flower beds

Hmmmmm. I know there's something else. It's on the tip of my tongue. Ahhhhh, yes:

Read "THE GUIDE TO GETTING IT ON" so the wife can be forever blissful. I think this would vastly improve the quality of my environment in addition to the above tasks. What's better than no dog poop in the back yard and a little sumpin'-sumpin'??? Well, there's the REAL question for the comments:

FILL IN THE BLANK: __________ is better than sex. Be honest. Your guy won't ever know you told. Be catty. Be anonymous if you like. Just be here in the comments, dammit!!! Let's lighten it up here!!!

A New Holiday

Well, my friends, in 10 minutes my husband will be officially working without a contract. Tomorrow by 11 AM we will know if a strike is on or off. This is my first experience with such an interesting scenario. I've never experienced all that is "strike duty," so I have decided to be a glass-is-half-full type of gal and create a new holiday: New Contract's Eve (or in a pessimistic view Pickett Sign Eve). This evening is filled with all the excitement of Christmas Eve. Seriously. Strange, right? The only difference is that under the tree tomorrow we will see if we have received a better gift than that of yore or if we will delay accepting gifts until we think we can get better ones. I guess it's sort of like a lively version of "rob your neighbor," that irritating game everyone plays on the holidays with really lame gifts.

I think my letter to the holiday patron saint would read something like this:

Dear Contract Issuer,
First I want to say thank you for giving my hubby lots of overtime this year. He's been really good, and I know you liked paying out all the time and a half. Secondly, I would like to ask for the following:
1) Health insurance that either a) isn't totally worthless; or b) has the option to upgrade;
2) An increase for inflation (hey, everyone else whines for one); and
3) Some sort of assurance that hubby will have a job for at least another 2 years.
There are some cookies for you at the union hall. If you can meet the above requirements, please eat the cookies on the BLUE PLATE ONLY. If you cannot meet the above requirements, eat the "extra-special" cookies on the RED PLATE and leave the blue plate cookies for all the families who will have to live on strike allowance until the staring contest is won at the bargaining table.
Mom of the Year

I'm actually not really that worried about this, but it does make for interesting blog fodder. Well, it's interesting to me, I guess because I've never really understood all the union stuff I saw on the news before and how people got all worked up and what not. We are fortunate that I am at home and if the worst were to happen, I'm degreed-up and can go back to my old company like yesterday. We also have people around us who won't let our lives go sour on this thing. So, we're kind of win-win. I'm not so concerned about us, but living through this thing with the auto market in its current state makes me feel for all of those people who don't have other viable work opportunities. I guess some could go off on a tangent here about the "tough shit," "create your own opportunities," or "you knew this going in" sentiments. The truth of it is that all of this has really opened my eyes to a way of real American life that I didn't really understand before. So if all else fails, I can chalk this one up as a valuable learning experience. The heart of the matter is we're all just people trying to get through life the best we can, white collar or blue. And the economy can't survive without either set of folks being employed and profitable.

Well, that was heavy and shitty, so I'll start a new post above for something more fun!

Monday, October 8, 2007

Sexual Healing

Awwww, yeah, baby. I've been inspired by my blogger friend Swistle to post this piece (of shit). It seems that many a mom is suffering through some sort of sexual, uh, inefficiency on the home front. Be it an over-driven husband, and under-horny one, or some sort of don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-your-fucking-eyes wife issue, we're all sort of there at some point or another. I'm not sure of one blanket solution for everyone, but I think I had an epiphany tonight about mine. Are you ready?

Back in my BC (before child) life, I was a corporate bitch-handler like most of you out there. A lot of my hours were spent handling business by phone. On dozens of occasions (literally), I had multiple clients of mine allude to the fact that I apparently have the perfect voice for phone sex. Do you see where I'm going with this? Funny thing is, I worked in the science industry with high-academic types or salesmen, yet they all had this same weird notion. So, I think I should start a 900 number. Extra cash, horny guys, PROBLEMS ALL SOLVED! Well, that would be assuming that I had the client list of the Hollywood Madam. I don't do the underlings.

Oh, and I'm not serious about that, but it is pretty entertaining.

On my own home front, the Chrysler strike deadline is Wednesday morning. So, for those of you who want to send a letter of support, please address it to your local Congressman/woman and tell them to fuck off if they voted for NAFTA, thank you very much. I'm not bitter or anything, nor am I all hot-under-the-blue-collar for the UAW. I just don't like this crap.

Well, that's all better. More bullshit later...

Friday, October 5, 2007

October in The Lou

OK, for those of you who don't know me, I am a true lover of my hometown. There is no other place I'd rather live than St. Louis. I am a full-blooded St. Louisan. This city is totally great. Well, most of the year anyway. Why I might consider buying a house in which to vacation: THE FUCKING WEATHER SYSTEM. I don't know what it is about a city nestled between two big rivers, but our weather is totally jacked up. It's fucking October and the bank on the corner just blurted out in big lights that the current temp is 95! What the hell is this? Also, for those of you who have not experienced the joy of St. Louis humidity, let me just tell you that you need the sharpest knife in the world to cut through it on hot days. Texas, Florida, Georgia - you've got NOTHING on us. I'm actually pissed about it because the run/walk thing has been going so well and now I have a day that makes me want to die the second I step out my front door. So I think I'm going to try and suck it up for at least a mile and see what happens. If I don't make it back, SY will have to follow through on our solemn pact and remove "certain unmentionables" from a drawer in a nightstand lest my whole family find out some things they really shouldn't know while divvying up my personal property. Maybe that's TMI. Oh well. Everyone's a freak. I'm out the door. We'll see how it goes.

Addendum: I just read bananafana's blog for today and she is pissed about the same thing...

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Variations on Rejection

Thanks to all who commented last time on my pathetic excuse for a sickness. Apparently, I was not terribly ill as I walked about 3 miles today and managed to get some hausfrau joy spread about this place. The eye-boogers are at bay for Little Diva, and the cleaning fairy has swept away the crustiness. Ahhhhh.

Anyway, I had the joy of hanging out with my younger sis this evening over a salad bar and some mini-burgers at Ruby Tuesday. YUM! I'm not sure how I justify eating burgers with fried onion rings and cheese on them after a healthy salad, but OH FUCKING WELL. During our banter across the table, my sis declared she has three requirements that her latest conquest of the mid-twenty-something dating scene has failed to meet. They are as follows:

1) must not drive a truck;
2) must attempt to purchase at least one beverage for her during an evening out; and
3) must love Cardinal baseball.

I concur with her that all of these are completely reasonable (especially if you live in The Lou - baseball fans aren't hard to find). And yet, this latest dating specimen could not at the very least handle number 2 above, which to me is a total given. So this places F firmly in the "let's be friends" category. This type of stuff makes me happy I am married...

Moving on. I received my first official publishing rejection in the mail today. Don't cry for me - I was counting on it. Now at least I have something to put in my writing file other than a shitload of papers with rough drafts and ramblings scrawled about them. On the glass-is-half-full front, somebody read my stuff! On the half-empty end, they didn't like it. Either way, I'm happy to have made the first attempt at a career change, which no doubt will continue until a mid-life crisis, at which point I will develop psychological fugue and end up somewhere in Montana wearing a paper bag while singing the hits of 1992. SO much to look forward to...

Let's play best/worst for today, OK?

Best: got a publisher to reply
Worst: got a publisher rejection

So it all shakes even and makes today pretty damn normal. How about you all? What's your best/worst for today???

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Me (sick) = Shit Hitting Fan

Please allow me to wallow in self-pity for a moment. I think one of the worst things about feeling less-than-well is when everyone else in the house continues on the "mom can hack it" continuum. I managed to make roasted chicken and taters for lunch without a side of barf while my loving husband sat and started at me from the kitchen table. Apparently, dinner from my sick-ass is still desirable above his usual self-made Ramen noodles. (For the record, I wasn't barfing, but was having the I'm dizzy-and-nauseous thing going on). I hadn't really told him I was completely awful, but for the love of all things holy, I wasn't standing up straight! And for all you free-thinkers, no I am definitely not pregnant...

Meanwhile, Little Diva has some sort of eye-booger action happening and it doesn't appear to be pink eye... but it could be. Of course, it is accompanied by some sort of cough and snot thing, so perhaps the congestion has just found a new outlet through her eye sockets. Until this point, we'd had a pretty good couple of years as a mainly snot-free zone, in which I greatly reveled.

Remember how I said weeks ago that we'd need ass pads to get through parenting? Well, I guess now I need mine, not only to protect my ass from Mother Nature's foot, but also because I want to sit down and EVERYTHING IN MY HOUSE IS COATED WITH A LAYER OF SNOT!

I'm going to bed (again). And when I awake in the morning, *poof* my house magically will be clean and I will be the poster child of wellness.

Carry on.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

The Funniest Video EVER

Since swearing is hilarious, please check out this commercial, which totally cracks my ass up every time I watch it...

Monday, October 1, 2007

Where the hell have I been?

Well, holy crap kabob - it's already Monday! And just where have I been, young lady, you ask? WHERE? For the love of God, why have I not been here to add to the insanity of your day? The truth is that my life has been disproportionally calm compared to the usual daily chaos of yours truly. But I suppose I could entertain with a snippet or two until the next piece of shit hits the fan and I have something fun to post about. So here goes...

LAME SNIPPET 1: Since finally removing my head from the last millennium, I've purchased an MP3 player in order to bring back that "athletic" side of me I once so treasured. I don't know what was worse - not running at all or running with a discman. I've started walking and running again and thanks to technology AM NO LONGER BORED TO TEARS WHILE DOING SO. Now I've got the tunes, but I'm in desperate need of RUNNING SHOE recommendations. For those of you who run or (dear GOD) power walk, what would be your rec? I've always been an Adidas girl, but I've heard some good things from a few marathoners about Asics as well. New Balance does not do anything other than look cute on my feet (which I'd be willing to deal with so long as they were cute enough to detract my HOT neighbor from my fat flapping ass/thighs/oh-hell-anything-from-the-waist-down). Overpronaters, what do you suggest? Comment away!!!

LAME SNIPPET 2: I hate long honkers. I was sitting in position as the second car at a stoplight yesterday. The light changed and it took the car in front of the guy to my left a second to get his foot on the gas. Then, for like 8 hours, the guy to my left was laying on his horn. I think there should be an auto-off switch for people who honk longer than four seconds. Seriously, four seconds is a long honk. Now I like a good honk as much as the next girl, but come on, people. If it's that bad, get out of your car at the next light, walk up to the offender's car, tap on his window, yell F*** YOU, and call it a day.