Miss Manners is guest-writing this post for me!
**********
Dear Miss Manners,
I have unresolved anger issues in my life. Was it OK for me to have posted a rude, anonymous comment on someone's blog? Here's my comment. ...
Anonymous said...
pretty bad, if I do say so myself. Style tip - you're thighs are too big to have your jeans tucked in with those boots.
Signed,
2angry
Dear Too Angry To Be Polite,
Sweetie, no! In life, it is always better to go with putting positive energy out into the Universe. Invest your resources into your own life. Clearly, this is not someone you should be picking on for weight issues. Are you crazy? This woman has a 26" waist and is wearing size six Old Navy Skinny jeans on her firm and toned physique. Miss Manners thinks it is only a shame we are unable to see her back side!
We can however see your jealousy! Take a minute and reflect upon your own life. Should you be throwing stones?
Also, you may want to think twice. Remember, these are not the simpler days of dropping a letter off at the Post Office. Nowadays, it is harder than ever to remain anonymous. Many people, for instance former fraud investigators, are able to research IP addresses where electronic communications come from!
Sincerely,
Miss Manners
1.26.2009
I like playdough
It was a strange progression.
I had to buy playdough for the Pastor.
I happened to notice there was a picture of a dog on the playdough box. Easy! it said. If you can make a cone, a circle and a snake - you can make this dog!
Liar. But I didn't figure that out for about 2 hours.
If I couldn't make the stupid dog, I had to make something. Nate showed up and became totally transfixed with the playdough with me. I'm probably not supposed to divulge that information.
This is the result. Of course, once it started to harden and crack, we were extremely displeased. We haven't played with playdough since, but it's icy out and I'm stuck at home, so who knows.
1.25.2009
lobster boy
This little boy perfectly summarizes every relationship I've ever had with a male:
Wow!
I would like to touch them.
I don't like to touch them.
No!
Its got claws.
Can I see them?
Yes!
What's in there?
Can I touch them?
Its got long legs.
I want to see them.
Wow!
I would like to touch them.
I don't like to touch them.
No!
Its got claws.
Can I see them?
Yes!
What's in there?
Can I touch them?
Its got long legs.
I want to see them.
I bribe little boys with cupcakes.
I'm like the Witch in Hansel and Gretel.
Speaking of cupcakes, they are back at Starbucks. For a limited time only. Time to clean out the deep freeze and make room! Some people use their deep freeze to store all the things they bought on sale with coupons they lovingly clipped to feed their families because they are good wives and mommies. I use mine for Girl Scout Cookies and Starbucks cupcakes.
Dear Michelle Obama,
Here's my J. Crew yellow color block sweater with rhinestone buttons.
I had it first.
1.23.2009
a three hour tour, a three hour tour
Last night - three hour Board Meeting at the Church of the Homeless. I think I was maybe asked to be on the Board because I refused to help out in Children's Ministry? Please, I begged. I'll do anything. Just don't make me work with kids.
Now I know what happens to mean, crotchety Church Ladies who don't want to work with the tiny ones in God's Kingdom.
Tonight - I'm on hour three of Battle of the Bands listening to headbangers shout a song entitled "I know I'm a lunatic but let's cuddle." The things we do for our kids. This is clearly an example of why I shouldn't be in charge of children. But I'm not a completely terrible parent (even though I may have forgotten to feed him dinner last night). I did refuse to let him have a Dr. Pepper after midnight. I don't feel sorry for him. I haven't had one in four years.
As soon as I'm done here, it's home to cuddle with my lunatic
Now I know what happens to mean, crotchety Church Ladies who don't want to work with the tiny ones in God's Kingdom.
Tonight - I'm on hour three of Battle of the Bands listening to headbangers shout a song entitled "I know I'm a lunatic but let's cuddle." The things we do for our kids. This is clearly an example of why I shouldn't be in charge of children. But I'm not a completely terrible parent (even though I may have forgotten to feed him dinner last night). I did refuse to let him have a Dr. Pepper after midnight. I don't feel sorry for him. I haven't had one in four years.
As soon as I'm done here, it's home to cuddle with my lunatic
1.22.2009
1.18.2009
thankfully, I stockpiled
"Consumers urged to use caution eating peanut butter"
This better not affect whipped peanut butter again.
But for once in my life, I'm prepared.
For Y2K, I did nothing. But for a possible whipped peanut butter emergency, I am ready.
This better not affect whipped peanut butter again.
But for once in my life, I'm prepared.
For Y2K, I did nothing. But for a possible whipped peanut butter emergency, I am ready.
1.17.2009
1.16.2009
I hate Thin Mints.
I'm on Team Samoas.
The Pastor wisely bought me a box of each kind of cookie, except Thin Mints. That is, after he called and asked what kind I wanted - to which I replied every single kind except the stupid, overrated Thin Mints. Its a good thing he called first because it turned out what I wanted was apparently the exact opposite of what he would have done.
Instead of Flower Friday, I guess this was Cookie Friday. I'm happy to take a bouquet of cookies any day.
Its for a good cause, right? Girl Scouts are out there doing all kinds of good in the world, aren't they?
The Pastor wisely bought me a box of each kind of cookie, except Thin Mints. That is, after he called and asked what kind I wanted - to which I replied every single kind except the stupid, overrated Thin Mints. Its a good thing he called first because it turned out what I wanted was apparently the exact opposite of what he would have done.
Instead of Flower Friday, I guess this was Cookie Friday. I'm happy to take a bouquet of cookies any day.
Its for a good cause, right? Girl Scouts are out there doing all kinds of good in the world, aren't they?
1.14.2009
escape to Egypt
The Pastor did just fine at "Christmas."
Of course, my special day had to be rescheduled because he double-booked himself on January 6. I'm sure Jesus wouldn't have tolerated this from the Magi, but I'm more flexible.
Instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh I got Cheever's, Coach and Miss Dior Cherie. Unlike the baby Jesus, I wasn't surprised. I picked it all out, and he paid.
The Pastor's sermon on the Magi (yes, I've heard it a time or two - I could probably preach it myself) goes something like this: "The wrong people from the wrong place had the wrong information but they came to do the right thing, worship."
Even though Jesus didn't have to ask anyone to hand over his Discover card, the Pastor got the gist of it.
But weren't the Magi warned in a dream to return home a different way? OK, so maybe I only remember part of his sermon. But I got the gist of it! I'll be sure to be on the lookout for any mysterious dreams the Pastor has over the next few weeks to conveniently disappear right around Valentine's Day.
Of course, my special day had to be rescheduled because he double-booked himself on January 6. I'm sure Jesus wouldn't have tolerated this from the Magi, but I'm more flexible.
Instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh I got Cheever's, Coach and Miss Dior Cherie. Unlike the baby Jesus, I wasn't surprised. I picked it all out, and he paid.
The Pastor's sermon on the Magi (yes, I've heard it a time or two - I could probably preach it myself) goes something like this: "The wrong people from the wrong place had the wrong information but they came to do the right thing, worship."
Even though Jesus didn't have to ask anyone to hand over his Discover card, the Pastor got the gist of it.
But weren't the Magi warned in a dream to return home a different way? OK, so maybe I only remember part of his sermon. But I got the gist of it! I'll be sure to be on the lookout for any mysterious dreams the Pastor has over the next few weeks to conveniently disappear right around Valentine's Day.
12.31.2008
12.29.2008
Merry Christmess
I spent Christmas day at my parent's house, where they stuck in a dvd of converted 8mm films of my childhood Christmases.
It explained so much.
I was mesmerized by the movies. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single shot of me in my early years where I actually looked happy. Thank God I wasn't, smiling would have just led to wrinkles. Also, it never really looked like I got the hang of crawling. No wonder I had to take College Algebra so many times.
And the parenting? My mom gave suckers to babies! Let little kids make their own chocolate milk! Took baby me camping and practically left me on a rock while dunking my brother's feet in freezing water. And the list goes on and on to include other things my own mother would have personally turned me into Child Welfare for had I even thought about trying with her precious grandson. And this one scene? She claims she was "rocking" me, but I don't know - it could have been shaken baby syndrome.
The Pastor was so transfixed by the movies it put him into a deep trance. Wait a minute, he fell asleep. All of this insight, right there in front of him, and he took a siesta. Is it any wonder he won't be able to figure out what to give me on January 6?
As if the movies weren't depressing enough, then there's all the Christmas cards and holiday letters. If you didn't get one from me, its because I don't send them out.
Somewhere around mid-December when the seasonal affective disorder is in full bloom, I get that final card/letter, the one that tips the scales and causes me to collapse in a puddle of tears. Why oh why, I lament, why don't I have a darling family with matching shirts? I think about it. I fool around with it. Look on-line at different cards. Draft up a letter. Try to put the perfect spin on my family and our events over the past year. Its complex though. With divorce and remarriage, no one is here at the same time. Its hard to include amusing anecdotes and stories about children that really do want to turn you into DHS. Then throw in the Pastor's insane work schedule, and I begin to wonder if people will think its weird for me to send out a card with only my picture on it and no words. After all, I am amazingly wrinkle-free after years of not smiling. Then I even begin to feel bad for not having at least a dog, cat or hamster to take a picture of and stick on a card. I lose the will to send cards, I lose the will to blog and end up in front of the tv where I end up watching the Duggar family with 18 kids which only makes me feel even more inadequate. To you it may be a simple holiday greeting, to me, its a downward spiral.
I'm glad the letters have finally stopped and I no longer have to dread having an anxiety attack when the mail drops through the slot.
I have ripped down the tree, but remember Santa doesn't come to see me until January 6 when the wise men went to see baby Jesus. My wise guy thinks with all this extra time he'll have a clue. He doesn't. We went to the mall together on December 26, and like the home movies he wasn't paying attention. Let me help. Pastor, that pink Coach bag you picked up? Not what I want.
In my doing research of the 12 days of Christmas to try to relate to the Pastor and help him out, I learned that the 12 days of Christmas are misunderstood and complex. Way to make it more complicated Pastor. Let's keep it simple, much like that baby born so long ago, wrapped in swaddling clothes, with a sucker in her mouth.
It explained so much.
I was mesmerized by the movies. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single shot of me in my early years where I actually looked happy. Thank God I wasn't, smiling would have just led to wrinkles. Also, it never really looked like I got the hang of crawling. No wonder I had to take College Algebra so many times.
And the parenting? My mom gave suckers to babies! Let little kids make their own chocolate milk! Took baby me camping and practically left me on a rock while dunking my brother's feet in freezing water. And the list goes on and on to include other things my own mother would have personally turned me into Child Welfare for had I even thought about trying with her precious grandson. And this one scene? She claims she was "rocking" me, but I don't know - it could have been shaken baby syndrome.
The Pastor was so transfixed by the movies it put him into a deep trance. Wait a minute, he fell asleep. All of this insight, right there in front of him, and he took a siesta. Is it any wonder he won't be able to figure out what to give me on January 6?
As if the movies weren't depressing enough, then there's all the Christmas cards and holiday letters. If you didn't get one from me, its because I don't send them out.
Somewhere around mid-December when the seasonal affective disorder is in full bloom, I get that final card/letter, the one that tips the scales and causes me to collapse in a puddle of tears. Why oh why, I lament, why don't I have a darling family with matching shirts? I think about it. I fool around with it. Look on-line at different cards. Draft up a letter. Try to put the perfect spin on my family and our events over the past year. Its complex though. With divorce and remarriage, no one is here at the same time. Its hard to include amusing anecdotes and stories about children that really do want to turn you into DHS. Then throw in the Pastor's insane work schedule, and I begin to wonder if people will think its weird for me to send out a card with only my picture on it and no words. After all, I am amazingly wrinkle-free after years of not smiling. Then I even begin to feel bad for not having at least a dog, cat or hamster to take a picture of and stick on a card. I lose the will to send cards, I lose the will to blog and end up in front of the tv where I end up watching the Duggar family with 18 kids which only makes me feel even more inadequate. To you it may be a simple holiday greeting, to me, its a downward spiral.
I'm glad the letters have finally stopped and I no longer have to dread having an anxiety attack when the mail drops through the slot.
I have ripped down the tree, but remember Santa doesn't come to see me until January 6 when the wise men went to see baby Jesus. My wise guy thinks with all this extra time he'll have a clue. He doesn't. We went to the mall together on December 26, and like the home movies he wasn't paying attention. Let me help. Pastor, that pink Coach bag you picked up? Not what I want.
In my doing research of the 12 days of Christmas to try to relate to the Pastor and help him out, I learned that the 12 days of Christmas are misunderstood and complex. Way to make it more complicated Pastor. Let's keep it simple, much like that baby born so long ago, wrapped in swaddling clothes, with a sucker in her mouth.
12.17.2008
be like Jesus
I tend to tune out when the Pastor gets all Bible-ish, but not today. I paid attention!
Today, the Pastor (who has no doubt not bought me anything) argued that December 25 is not the day to give me a Christmas present.
First of all, he said, there's no real proof that was Jesus' birthday. OK, but who cares?
If anything, he said, it would be more appropriate to give me something on January 6, because that would approximate the date the Magi came to visit the baby. ????? Now I'm beginning to wonder if he's making this stuff up. There's no proof that Jesus was born on December 25, but we can figure out the Magi would have come 12 days later? Huh? This is quite possibly the worst abuse of his God knowledge I've seen.
While I'm not convinced, nor do I actually care enough about the specifics to research it myself, I began to wonder: what would Jesus do?
Would Jesus have wanted a gift on his birthday? There's already quite a bit of fuss on that day, and let's face it, if he's having to sleep in a stable, are there really any good stores open? Anything besides Walgreens? And if someone's going to spend the money, would you want just whatever tacky thing they decided to get you at the last minute?
Waiting until January 6 would have been a much better day for Jesus to receive a gift because, as everyone knows, babies are prettier at day 12 than day one. I've had a baby. And on day one, he was mostly just red-faced and ticked that he'd had to surface. A couple of weeks in, and the pictures of the whole gift exchange would be much better. This is probably why when you see a Nativity Scene everyone looks so nice.
While there is no way the Pastor could have convinced me Biblically or scientifically, he could convince me retail-ally. I'm not a scholar, but I know shopping. My only question was, if I wait until January 6, will I get a much better gift than what I would have received on December 25? OK, I'll take what's behind door number two.
Pastor, if you are reading this, I'm officially giving you notice you may give me my (much more spectacular) Christmas present on January 6. Of course, you'll probably have to take me to dinner that night too. I've already put it on my calendar.
And I can't wait to see what kind of argument he comes up with for Valentine's Day.
Today, the Pastor (who has no doubt not bought me anything) argued that December 25 is not the day to give me a Christmas present.
First of all, he said, there's no real proof that was Jesus' birthday. OK, but who cares?
If anything, he said, it would be more appropriate to give me something on January 6, because that would approximate the date the Magi came to visit the baby. ????? Now I'm beginning to wonder if he's making this stuff up. There's no proof that Jesus was born on December 25, but we can figure out the Magi would have come 12 days later? Huh? This is quite possibly the worst abuse of his God knowledge I've seen.
While I'm not convinced, nor do I actually care enough about the specifics to research it myself, I began to wonder: what would Jesus do?
Would Jesus have wanted a gift on his birthday? There's already quite a bit of fuss on that day, and let's face it, if he's having to sleep in a stable, are there really any good stores open? Anything besides Walgreens? And if someone's going to spend the money, would you want just whatever tacky thing they decided to get you at the last minute?
Waiting until January 6 would have been a much better day for Jesus to receive a gift because, as everyone knows, babies are prettier at day 12 than day one. I've had a baby. And on day one, he was mostly just red-faced and ticked that he'd had to surface. A couple of weeks in, and the pictures of the whole gift exchange would be much better. This is probably why when you see a Nativity Scene everyone looks so nice.
While there is no way the Pastor could have convinced me Biblically or scientifically, he could convince me retail-ally. I'm not a scholar, but I know shopping. My only question was, if I wait until January 6, will I get a much better gift than what I would have received on December 25? OK, I'll take what's behind door number two.
Pastor, if you are reading this, I'm officially giving you notice you may give me my (much more spectacular) Christmas present on January 6. Of course, you'll probably have to take me to dinner that night too. I've already put it on my calendar.
And I can't wait to see what kind of argument he comes up with for Valentine's Day.
thank flu
Over four years of meetings, counting points, measuring and weighing.
Yet it only took one case of the stomach flu to finally get me the 15 pound weight loss award at Weight Watchers.
And if you think I told the receptionist who weighed me in that I'd just had the flu, you're wrong.
Yet it only took one case of the stomach flu to finally get me the 15 pound weight loss award at Weight Watchers.
And if you think I told the receptionist who weighed me in that I'd just had the flu, you're wrong.
12.16.2008
please make my Dad happy this Christmas
go to
www.browning.com
search entries for
Larry Buckmark Wigeon Duck Call
and vote ***** for him please!
Thanks!
If he wins I'm pretty sure I don't have to get him anything for Christmas! :)
www.browning.com
search entries for
Larry Buckmark Wigeon Duck Call
and vote ***** for him please!
Thanks!
If he wins I'm pretty sure I don't have to get him anything for Christmas! :)
Robyn's flu diary
Day one: Sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever. Nyquil coma.
Day two: Nyquil coma.
Day three: Nyquil coma.
Day four: After having trouble urinating and reading the side effects on the Nyquil bottle, no more Nyquil for me. Uh oh.
Day five: Not sure if I'm feeling better or if I'm just manic. The Pastor is coming home! He's missed my sickness. Clean my clean house. Wash sheets. Make bed for Pastor. Pretty myself up. Pastor misses flight. Just as well. I, cured from the sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, start the other kind of flu.
Day six: Wash sheets again. The Pastor comes home but I am no longer pretty but back in my pjs semi-conscious on one of our giant bean bags.
Day seven: Good news. I've lost five pounds.
Day two: Nyquil coma.
Day three: Nyquil coma.
Day four: After having trouble urinating and reading the side effects on the Nyquil bottle, no more Nyquil for me. Uh oh.
Day five: Not sure if I'm feeling better or if I'm just manic. The Pastor is coming home! He's missed my sickness. Clean my clean house. Wash sheets. Make bed for Pastor. Pretty myself up. Pastor misses flight. Just as well. I, cured from the sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, start the other kind of flu.
Day six: Wash sheets again. The Pastor comes home but I am no longer pretty but back in my pjs semi-conscious on one of our giant bean bags.
Day seven: Good news. I've lost five pounds.
12.08.2008
What's that Lassie??? Is Timmy trapped in a well???
Not only is the Pastor confusing when he talks, he also confounds me with his silence. Not once have I ever understood his non-verbal communication.
While he was sitting on the platform where the pastors sit on Sundays, he was giving me motions and hand signals and signs. I interpreted him to be saying he needed me to get his glasses.
He needed a Kleenex.
Maybe you had to go to church on Sunday too. I bet your church didn't have a drunk man yelling throughout the service. Nothing non-verbal about that.
While he was sitting on the platform where the pastors sit on Sundays, he was giving me motions and hand signals and signs. I interpreted him to be saying he needed me to get his glasses.
He needed a Kleenex.
Maybe you had to go to church on Sunday too. I bet your church didn't have a drunk man yelling throughout the service. Nothing non-verbal about that.
12.03.2008
if you watch this
you might feel like you were almost there, part of the party
only with a much better soundtrack
Of course, I arranged the whole party - but you can guess who got the credit!
only with a much better soundtrack
Of course, I arranged the whole party - but you can guess who got the credit!
11.27.2008
bewitched
I can't imagine that anyone outside my parents has the desire to watch this thing, but here's six minutes of:
1. Me with hat & hat hair. It was so cold, I found out what evil must feel like. Two days in Salem before the Pastor's conference taught me they didn't actually burn witches at the stake, they hung them. But had anyone tried to burn me, I would have said thank you very much for trying to get me warm. I especially love all the pictures where it was more important for me to button my coat however crookedly I could rather than to risk being cold. $438 BCBG coat (ha I didn't pay that much for it on E-Bay!) with three buttons, and I can't get it right.
2. Everything I was able to see with the Pastor before and after his conference with 7,000 Bible geeks, and everything I saw by myself and convinced random strangers on the street to take my picture. Don't worry, I didn't take any candy from anyone.
3. I'm actually standing around some pretty famous stuff - Charles Dickens' mirror, the place where Nathaniel Hawthorne hung out, where President Kennedy proposed to Jackie, blah blah blah.
4. No wonder the Pilgrims settled here. Its a magical land, with a Dunkin' Donuts on every corner. The Pastor said it was the closest I would ever get to to getting my double d's. Not a terribly funny joke, but when you're around this many Bible geeks, it doesn't take much to look like a stand-up comic. On the flip side, what were you Pilgrims thinking? If it were ever up to me to settle a new land, if I got off the boat in December and it felt like 20 below freezing, I'd get back on the boat. Actually it would be more realistic to say that I'd never have gotten on the small, smelly boat to begin with.
5. $31 to ride a train, $20 in cab fair, $6 at Dunkin' Donuts - $57 total for the biggest disappointment ever - Plymouth Rock. A mere pebble which is such a lame rock it even cracked and had to be glued back together and cannot actually be traced back to the Pilgrims. Its a farce! It was actually more exciting (and cheaper) to watch the street fight we saw in front of our hotel.
6. Everything I ate. I had to store some fat for warmth. What else could I do, wandering around Boston by myself without the Pastor to keep me warm while he was listening to the Scholars. Bisque and coffee helped.
If you have the patience to watch through to the end, there's actually a picture of me without my hat, and I almost look pretty.
11.20.2008
its like the mother ship calling me home
Hi from Salem, Massachusetts.
My horoscope, pardon me - my Glamourscope - says "If life were a prom, you'd so be voted queen right now."
Things are pretty good. At the B&B we are at, they had apple pie for breakfast. Its all fun and games til I get back on the scale next week.
My horoscope, pardon me - my Glamourscope - says "If life were a prom, you'd so be voted queen right now."
Things are pretty good. At the B&B we are at, they had apple pie for breakfast. Its all fun and games til I get back on the scale next week.
11.17.2008
I'm still eating Halloween candy!!!
I thought I had a few more weeks left to be naughty.
No such luck.
It started on Friday when I went to the mall.
Santa was there! Already! On November 14!!!! And he waved at me, signaling he clearly knows me and is watching.
I went home and put up my Christmas tree. And wrapped my presents. I didn't know what else to do. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because I'm finished.
11.04.2008
life, liberty and the pursuit of shoes
Are you tired of the same old choices? Do you want a candidate that represents the issues that are important to you? Ladies and gentlemen, there's a new party in town...and it's hot! Vote Carrie Bradshaw for a more stylish America!
Carrie Bradshaw has a plan for this nation--from the downtrodden masses to the wealthy elite, she intends to bring fashion to the people, one closet, one wardrobe, one person at a time!
CARRIE'S PLATFORM:
Want to know if Carrie Bradshaw is the right candidate for you? Check out her positions on the biggest issues:
Carrie on the Economy:
"I like my money right where I can see it... hanging in my closet."
Carrie on Technology:
"I don't believe in email. I'm an old-fashioned girl. I prefer calling and hanging up."
Carrie on Civil Rights:
"Maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we've been given, and accessorize with the outfit we've got."
Carrie on Violence in Film and Television:
"Welcome to the age of un-innocence. No one has breakfast at Tiffany's, and no one has affairs to remember."
Carrie on Housing and Urban Development:
"Beauty is fleeting, but a rent-controlled apartment overlooking the park is forever."
Carrie on Animal Rights:
"You can't be friends with a squirrel! A squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit."
Carrie on Marriage:
"If you're single, after graduation there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you. Hallmark doesn't make a 'congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy' card. And where's the flatware for going on vacation alone?"
11.02.2008
four college degrees and he couldn't figure this one out
Pastor: I've been watching you sort the (Halloween) candy and I can't figure out how you're doing it. What are you doing?
Me: This pile is candy I like (chocolate, blow pops and sweet tarts) and this pile is candy I don't like (tootsie rolls, laffy taffy, nerds).
I can't believe he even had to ask!
Me: This pile is candy I like (chocolate, blow pops and sweet tarts) and this pile is candy I don't like (tootsie rolls, laffy taffy, nerds).
I can't believe he even had to ask!
10.29.2008
to 32B or not to 32B
Pastor: I like you better when you blog. Why aren't you blogging?
Me: Actually, I am working on a little something now. A couple of entries as a matter of fact.
Pastor: Oh yeah?
Me: Yep, I'm writing about how I want boobs.
Pastor: Well, don't talk about that!
*****
OK, I won't talk about it. Directly. Its not like he made me swear on a Bible or anything. Ha!
I need to get this off my chest. Let's just get it out in the open. Because IF I were to do anything (and that's a very big IF), then you would notice. Let's not pretend.
Several incidents have occurred over the past few weeks which have made me desire slightly different, larger pieces of certain parts of my anatomy. Thing number one, I saw a picture of myself (no I won't be posting it). I was practically concave, and it wasn't my stomach.
Thing number two, I had a doctor's appointment last week, and the doctor asked me (jokingly) if I was planning on getting "that surgery" right after the first of the year. Ha ha. I explained to him it had crossed my heart before, but then I heard pain was involved. But the doctor said it would be easy-peasy for me. Two peas. My pods.
Sold! Of course, this is the same man who convinced me that having a baby was no big deal. Come to think of it, he was right! Having a baby was totally not a big deal!
Thing number three, the normally fun experience of shopping turned painful. For years I have thought there was some kind of conspiracy by manufacturers of certain articles of clothing. They didn't want me to have pretty things. Do you have any idea how much trouble I've had to go to to assemble my collection of no beiges and no whites allowed? But then when I actually did need a beige one, I realized it wasn't a conspiracy to keep me away from the pretty. It was a conspiracy to prevent me from owning this article of clothing altogether.
There's nothing more humiliating than a grown woman having to shop where they sell Mary Kate & Ashley's clothing.
Oh wait, but there is.
Then I got to go for my first ever photo session where they take parts of your body and squish and smash them and then take the pictures. The tech was showing me what to do, and how I'd have to hoist myself up on the shelf. Hoist. Thanks, but I don't think we'll be needing a crane here.
And finally, there are the upcoming holidays. You think holidays with your family are stressful? My family of origin has a garage decorated in autographed calendars. Let's just say they are not of Mother Theresa or Princess Di. While your family might gift Hickory Farms, at my parents it might be a mousepad or a shirt from that owl-themed restaurant chain or even better, something someone had to go to the owl-themed restaurant chain to purchase and have autographed. With every scrap of wrapping paper tossed on the floor, there goes another little piece of my self-esteem.
They have good curly fries, by the way.
I'm sure if I were to do anything, and again its a very big if, it would be the first in many flaws to be addressed. Don't even get me started about my internal problems. I'm just a little bit concerned that while watching television today I completely ignored a commercial about starving children overseas, but jotted down the phone number for the belly buster ball.
Yep, I'm seriously flawed.
Me: Actually, I am working on a little something now. A couple of entries as a matter of fact.
Pastor: Oh yeah?
Me: Yep, I'm writing about how I want boobs.
Pastor: Well, don't talk about that!
*****
OK, I won't talk about it. Directly. Its not like he made me swear on a Bible or anything. Ha!
I need to get this off my chest. Let's just get it out in the open. Because IF I were to do anything (and that's a very big IF), then you would notice. Let's not pretend.
Several incidents have occurred over the past few weeks which have made me desire slightly different, larger pieces of certain parts of my anatomy. Thing number one, I saw a picture of myself (no I won't be posting it). I was practically concave, and it wasn't my stomach.
Thing number two, I had a doctor's appointment last week, and the doctor asked me (jokingly) if I was planning on getting "that surgery" right after the first of the year. Ha ha. I explained to him it had crossed my heart before, but then I heard pain was involved. But the doctor said it would be easy-peasy for me. Two peas. My pods.
Sold! Of course, this is the same man who convinced me that having a baby was no big deal. Come to think of it, he was right! Having a baby was totally not a big deal!
Thing number three, the normally fun experience of shopping turned painful. For years I have thought there was some kind of conspiracy by manufacturers of certain articles of clothing. They didn't want me to have pretty things. Do you have any idea how much trouble I've had to go to to assemble my collection of no beiges and no whites allowed? But then when I actually did need a beige one, I realized it wasn't a conspiracy to keep me away from the pretty. It was a conspiracy to prevent me from owning this article of clothing altogether.
There's nothing more humiliating than a grown woman having to shop where they sell Mary Kate & Ashley's clothing.
Oh wait, but there is.
Then I got to go for my first ever photo session where they take parts of your body and squish and smash them and then take the pictures. The tech was showing me what to do, and how I'd have to hoist myself up on the shelf. Hoist. Thanks, but I don't think we'll be needing a crane here.
And finally, there are the upcoming holidays. You think holidays with your family are stressful? My family of origin has a garage decorated in autographed calendars. Let's just say they are not of Mother Theresa or Princess Di. While your family might gift Hickory Farms, at my parents it might be a mousepad or a shirt from that owl-themed restaurant chain or even better, something someone had to go to the owl-themed restaurant chain to purchase and have autographed. With every scrap of wrapping paper tossed on the floor, there goes another little piece of my self-esteem.
They have good curly fries, by the way.
I'm sure if I were to do anything, and again its a very big if, it would be the first in many flaws to be addressed. Don't even get me started about my internal problems. I'm just a little bit concerned that while watching television today I completely ignored a commercial about starving children overseas, but jotted down the phone number for the belly buster ball.
Yep, I'm seriously flawed.
10.19.2008
and this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home
I would have run away from home today
except my high heels were killing me
wow that's almost a haiku
I bet I can turn it into a haiku:
would have run away
cept my high heels killing me
sigh no where to go
I believe its either a vast conspiracy, involving everyone I came into contact with today ticking me off, or I have pms. Only time will tell. Did I mention I'm writing this as I finish a piece of chocolate cake?
except my high heels were killing me
wow that's almost a haiku
I bet I can turn it into a haiku:
would have run away
cept my high heels killing me
sigh no where to go
I believe its either a vast conspiracy, involving everyone I came into contact with today ticking me off, or I have pms. Only time will tell. Did I mention I'm writing this as I finish a piece of chocolate cake?
10.12.2008
his and hers
what he's reading
what I'm reading
And I just finished "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer. Yummy!
what I'm reading
And I just finished "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer. Yummy!
10.07.2008
BCBG
Even though yesterday I went with the J Crew orange hammered silk top (btw, I officially want all my clothes to be made from hammered silk. According to Mom, it felt just like my baby blanket.) J Crew Jeans and pumpkin heels, I may make the rest of this week a BCBG week.
Of course it looks fantastic. Its a $240 dress! I (the Pastor) paid less than 10% of that. TJ Maxx.
Pastor's office. Trust me, I'm the most non-boring thing in the place. A beacon of light amongst the shelves of Bible books.
10.06.2008
while you were sleeping
Yeeeeeeeeeooooouuuuccccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhh!
That's what I heard the Pastor scream.
What's the matter?
You know those little band-aids, the ones that are about the size of a nickle? The Pastor had ripped one off of his sexy, muscular man arm, taking a few hairs with it.
And you know what he said to me?
"Do you have any idea how much that hurt????"
Really! I think I just might. Tweezers, anyone? Hot wax? A LASER BEAM SEARING THE HAIR FROM THE VIRGIN FLESH OF YOUR INNER THIGH???
I'm blogging this in bed and the Pastor is next to me trying to sleep in spite of his painful band-aid wound. I have an urge to suddenly develop some of that bedside manner he claims I lack and doctor him up - with a few band-aids of course.
That's what I heard the Pastor scream.
What's the matter?
You know those little band-aids, the ones that are about the size of a nickle? The Pastor had ripped one off of his sexy, muscular man arm, taking a few hairs with it.
And you know what he said to me?
"Do you have any idea how much that hurt????"
Really! I think I just might. Tweezers, anyone? Hot wax? A LASER BEAM SEARING THE HAIR FROM THE VIRGIN FLESH OF YOUR INNER THIGH???
I'm blogging this in bed and the Pastor is next to me trying to sleep in spite of his painful band-aid wound. I have an urge to suddenly develop some of that bedside manner he claims I lack and doctor him up - with a few band-aids of course.
10.02.2008
You know why I was so happy?
Because I wasn't spending time each day looking for either 1. my cell phone 2. my other cell phone 3. the Pastor's cell phone 4. my sunglasses.
Even then I knew I had to have a big ring.
But what's with my giant head? Oh how I long for the day when it was my head, and not my butt, that was disproportionately larger than the rest of my body.
I still have the dress.
I'd probably still be able to fit into it, if I'd just quit eating the Mexican food.
I married a hobo.
Wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that this was on a couch at the mall - my special place.
9.30.2008
Can't believe
I forgot to post this picture.
I love this silk dress from several weeks ago. International Concepts. And the best part? I paid $9.99.
I found this pic in my e-mail! I'm finally cleaning out my e-mail.
This means if you've sent me an email in the past couple of months, I'm finally on top of it!
9.22.2008
What does one wear to a Complete the Torah celebration?
I wore my Nine West blue floral peasant dress.
he didn't drop it
The Pastor claims he went to witness an historical event.
I know better. The guy will do anything for a free t-shirt and free Kosher Chinese buffet.
worst case scenario
Yesterday, while you were watching Nascar or taking a nap, I was hangin' with the Jews.
We attended the "Completing the Torah Celebration."
This guy in the pic was flown in from Israel to complete the Torah. To finish writing the Torah in Hebrew on a giant roll of paper. To finish writing it with people looking right over his shoulder. Sometimes, with a camera hovering right over his shoulder. Oh, and if even one letter is missing, the whole thing is garbage.
me: What if makes a mistake?
Pastor: He won't.
me: But what if he does?
Pastor: He won't.
me: But he's a human. What if he screws up?
Pastor: He won't.
me: But what if he sneezes, and it jerks his hand?
Pastor: He won't.
me: But what if he smears?
Pastor: He won't.
me: Why are they waiting for the ink to dry? Why don't they just get a hairdryer?
Pastor: (giving me a dirty look and ignoring me.)
me: What if they drop it?
Pastor: They won't drop it.
me: What if they tear it?
Pastor: They won't.
*****
I don't care what he says. I bet there's a "Completing the Torah: Worst Case Scenario Guide."
If not, I'm writing it.
9.18.2008
seize the outfit
I keep them hidden in my bedroom.
No one knows where they are but me. When I'm all alone, I pull them out from underneath the mattresses and lust over the dog-eared slick pages. Completely buying into the fantasy. If anyone should barge in on my private time, I quickly hide the evidence.
Its the J. Crew Fall Look Book and catalog.
When flipping through Vogue or In Style, I'll become captivated with a certain look. A hairstyle. Certain make-up. Fold down the corners of pages. Hang ripped out pages on my bathroom mirror or fridge. And I follow through. I don't turn down a corner and never look back. Sadly, this is one area of my life where I don't drop the ball. Returning library books on time? No thanks. Booking a hotel room for a trip? Nope. Having the exact same make-up as Sarah Jessica Parker on the cover of Glamour? That becomes my life's mission. Last month, when Kate Moss was on the cover of Vogue I completely replicated her make-up. Easy-peasy. She wears Rimmel cosmetics and that's about the cheapest make-up on the planet.
But I cannot recall ever being so captivated by anything as I've been with J. Crew's catalog and the "5 Days in Prague" theme. I want to walk the cobbled streets of Prague wearing rhubarb cords and the Lydia bright saffron blouse and burnt sienna heels. (That would tick the Pastor off because at some point in our Prague story we'd be running to catch a train and there I'd be in heels). (He'd leave me there.) (A backpack and sleeping in a hostel matches none of these outfits.) But still, I long to hug a lamppost in the street while wearing the Velvet Ecole Jacket and matchstick jeans. I've been to this part of the world before with the Pastor, and believe me, it wasn't a fantasyland where I look adorable. It involved some sort of cheap synthetic fabric I could wash out in the sink of a train station, dirty hair and no makeup.
In part my fascination is because gray has long been my favorite color. I love love love love love gray. Now I have these lovely catalogs filled with not only gray, but pairing it with something I can only refer to as "baby poo yellow." I suppose since I love it so much I should find something else to call it besides "baby poo." J. Crew calls it "Golden Yellow Maple."
And are these even good colors for the fair and blonde? Gray and baby poo? This color palette sounds like something you'd be more likely to find in a woman's prison than a preppy store.
Its not so much having the particular J. Crew pieces as it is emulating the overall look. I'm fine to have a J. Crew piece here and there (bought on clearance and using my student i.d. for an additional 15% discount - yet another reason I love J. Crew). I picked up a baby poo bag at T J Maxx that fits in. A pair of super marked down $7 "burnt sienna" patent heels at Ross. Ballet flats from Goodwill.
I must admit, I've volunteered at the Church of the Poor and Homeless three times this week and I felt a wee bit guilty, at least 15% guilty, that I looked like a J. Crew model (well, an older, fatter J. Crew model) when most of the people there hadn't even gotten to shower. In a long time. I was a shameless shirt repeater and wore my "Seize the Day" shirt. One of the homeless men was talking to me about my shirt and said I should get one that said "Seize the Moment." Hmmm, it would be a lot less work.
Anyway, I know this is true love. I've never felt this way before. Its really going to last this time.
Until the Winter catalog comes out.
I'll move on. Its not completely vapid and meaningless. In a few months, expect some very stylish homeless people.
No one knows where they are but me. When I'm all alone, I pull them out from underneath the mattresses and lust over the dog-eared slick pages. Completely buying into the fantasy. If anyone should barge in on my private time, I quickly hide the evidence.
Its the J. Crew Fall Look Book and catalog.
When flipping through Vogue or In Style, I'll become captivated with a certain look. A hairstyle. Certain make-up. Fold down the corners of pages. Hang ripped out pages on my bathroom mirror or fridge. And I follow through. I don't turn down a corner and never look back. Sadly, this is one area of my life where I don't drop the ball. Returning library books on time? No thanks. Booking a hotel room for a trip? Nope. Having the exact same make-up as Sarah Jessica Parker on the cover of Glamour? That becomes my life's mission. Last month, when Kate Moss was on the cover of Vogue I completely replicated her make-up. Easy-peasy. She wears Rimmel cosmetics and that's about the cheapest make-up on the planet.
But I cannot recall ever being so captivated by anything as I've been with J. Crew's catalog and the "5 Days in Prague" theme. I want to walk the cobbled streets of Prague wearing rhubarb cords and the Lydia bright saffron blouse and burnt sienna heels. (That would tick the Pastor off because at some point in our Prague story we'd be running to catch a train and there I'd be in heels). (He'd leave me there.) (A backpack and sleeping in a hostel matches none of these outfits.) But still, I long to hug a lamppost in the street while wearing the Velvet Ecole Jacket and matchstick jeans. I've been to this part of the world before with the Pastor, and believe me, it wasn't a fantasyland where I look adorable. It involved some sort of cheap synthetic fabric I could wash out in the sink of a train station, dirty hair and no makeup.
In part my fascination is because gray has long been my favorite color. I love love love love love gray. Now I have these lovely catalogs filled with not only gray, but pairing it with something I can only refer to as "baby poo yellow." I suppose since I love it so much I should find something else to call it besides "baby poo." J. Crew calls it "Golden Yellow Maple."
And are these even good colors for the fair and blonde? Gray and baby poo? This color palette sounds like something you'd be more likely to find in a woman's prison than a preppy store.
Its not so much having the particular J. Crew pieces as it is emulating the overall look. I'm fine to have a J. Crew piece here and there (bought on clearance and using my student i.d. for an additional 15% discount - yet another reason I love J. Crew). I picked up a baby poo bag at T J Maxx that fits in. A pair of super marked down $7 "burnt sienna" patent heels at Ross. Ballet flats from Goodwill.
I must admit, I've volunteered at the Church of the Poor and Homeless three times this week and I felt a wee bit guilty, at least 15% guilty, that I looked like a J. Crew model (well, an older, fatter J. Crew model) when most of the people there hadn't even gotten to shower. In a long time. I was a shameless shirt repeater and wore my "Seize the Day" shirt. One of the homeless men was talking to me about my shirt and said I should get one that said "Seize the Moment." Hmmm, it would be a lot less work.
Anyway, I know this is true love. I've never felt this way before. Its really going to last this time.
Until the Winter catalog comes out.
I'll move on. Its not completely vapid and meaningless. In a few months, expect some very stylish homeless people.
9.11.2008
double dip
see how teeny I am
Its partially an optical illusion because the sundaes are so big
dont worry, I didn't eat it all
never ever ever
let a man so susceptible to informercials and commercials roam free at the State Fair
he will buy gadgets
but look at how happy he is
You know why he's happy?
He didn't wear heels to the State Fair and he won't have to exercise for two hours tomorrow to make up for all the junk he ate.
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