"Hands off my meat Pat!"
As I was eating dinner I turned on Wheel of Fortune just in time to hear a contestant shout out "Soup and Nupes" The correct answer was "Soup and Nuts" but he played that about as well as I would. A few minutes later someone got a bankrupt and Pat Sajak told the person, "Sorry but I am going to have to take your meat." This is why I eat in front of the tv.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Why I Am Going To Hell In a Hand Basket
Hi my name is Lorelai and I am a judger. I judge peoples looks, their hair, and even their shoes. I try not to do this, and I know it's mean, but damned if I don't make comments in my head about ugly shoes and prints that should never be seen in public. Making these comments is not really the thing that will bring on the brimstone and hellfire, it's where the majority of my comments are made. I seem to find an endless supply of what not to wear at my church.
Every Sunday I walk in and am telling myself thou shalt not judge. If I am lucky I can make it 30 minutes. This was not a lucky Sunday. I had the misfortune of standing behind the gnarliest mullet I have ever seen in my life. I tried to look away, and I even tried to focus on the great sermon (which was on denying temptation--are you kidding me). By the end all I could do was look inward and pray. Who am I kidding I also had to walk away. As I glance around my fellow parishioners and witness a fashion don't, I make up stories about these disasters. Take the mullet for instance. I wondered how a hairstyle could go so wrong, and decided that her child was becoming a hair stylist and she was the first customer. Because it was her child she had to wear it out. Then I really liked the lady because she owned that tragic hairstyle (my mind is a scary place I know).
As you are reading this you may wonder about my own fashion sense. Let me reassure you, I'm no fashion great. Most days if I remember to brush my hair I am impressed with myself, and my clothing leaves a lot to be desired. I sometimes think I use my comments as my own episode of "What Not to Wear." If nothing else it keeps me from sporting a mullet.
Hi my name is Lorelai and I am a judger. I judge peoples looks, their hair, and even their shoes. I try not to do this, and I know it's mean, but damned if I don't make comments in my head about ugly shoes and prints that should never be seen in public. Making these comments is not really the thing that will bring on the brimstone and hellfire, it's where the majority of my comments are made. I seem to find an endless supply of what not to wear at my church.
Every Sunday I walk in and am telling myself thou shalt not judge. If I am lucky I can make it 30 minutes. This was not a lucky Sunday. I had the misfortune of standing behind the gnarliest mullet I have ever seen in my life. I tried to look away, and I even tried to focus on the great sermon (which was on denying temptation--are you kidding me). By the end all I could do was look inward and pray. Who am I kidding I also had to walk away. As I glance around my fellow parishioners and witness a fashion don't, I make up stories about these disasters. Take the mullet for instance. I wondered how a hairstyle could go so wrong, and decided that her child was becoming a hair stylist and she was the first customer. Because it was her child she had to wear it out. Then I really liked the lady because she owned that tragic hairstyle (my mind is a scary place I know).
As you are reading this you may wonder about my own fashion sense. Let me reassure you, I'm no fashion great. Most days if I remember to brush my hair I am impressed with myself, and my clothing leaves a lot to be desired. I sometimes think I use my comments as my own episode of "What Not to Wear." If nothing else it keeps me from sporting a mullet.
Multiples of 7
This is my aunt story and it actually begins in July, when my brother and his I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-her (they say their married, but had no ceremony, so I just call her by her first name, Lureen) came to my neck of the woods. This was my first meeting of Lureen. She seemed nice, but my brother is a train wreck, so anyone attracted to him brings their own special funk to the mix. A week after I met her I got a phone call at 5:30 in the morning informing me I was an aunt. They just found out they were pregnant. I wish I could tell you I was happy for them, but I honestly felt nothing but dread for that poor little fetus. At this time my brother was convinced that Jesus was really the devil tricking the world, and that multiples of 7 were God's blessing. At any moment he could tell you all the multiples of 7 in his own life (they were always these crazy math problems that never made sense like: 9+3+2/2 is how he knew his apartment was blessed). Lucky for me he lives several hours a way, so I didn't see him often.
In September they found out they were having twins. Again all I could think of was those poor children. Lureen has a child of her own, a 7 y.o with Down Syndrome and I couldn't imagine how they were going to handle twins. My brother also decided in November to stop working, so he could relax before the babies came. Somehow they managed on unemployment, but if I think about this for too long I go crazy. My brother also decided to name his children Racer and Ryder because they were going to be motor cross riders. I asked him once what he would do if the boys did not want to race and he replied, "Kids will do what ever their parents tell them to." And he was not kidding.
Before this blessed event took place my mother and I worked out a system (or so I thought). She would call me once when Lureen went into labor, and I would not answer the phone if it was middle of the night. Let me tell you what happened.
The first of many calls came at 4:30 Wednesday morning. It was my brother telling me Lureen may be in labor. Then my mother called me to repeat this information. For the next two hours my phone rang about 20 times. By the time I answered the phone all I could say was stop calling me I have to go to work. Unfortunately that has never stopped my mother. I think she reached an all new high for phone calls in one day (I think she reached 25). Did I mention I had an important presentation first thing in the morning? Well I did and it pretty much sucked ass.
The babies were born about 5:30pm. Racer came first, then Ryder. They were almost 7 pounds each, and were about 20 inches long. All I know is that everyone was healthy, and my mother hated Lureen's mother (this was their first meeting). I actually heard more about that then I did the actual birthing. Both my mother and father attended the blessed event, but my father booked it right after the babies were born (smart man). I drove up on Friday. I really wanted to stay in a hotel room. Instead I was placed on an air mattress in the nursery, and had the joy of getting woken up and stepped on when ever a baby needed to be changed. It will be along time before I go back.
The babies are fine. My brother is convinced that if he keeps them up during the day they would sleep at night. Did I mention they are only 5 days old? I tried to explain how much sleep babies need, but he didn't believe me. He is convinced they will be on a schedule any day now.
Highlights from my trip include watching my brother yell at his 7 y.o. stepson for putting on a pink pair of socks ("boys don't wear pink!"). He also yelled at him for giving him a kiss too (I believe what he yelled was, "boys don't kiss"). I also got to hear in excruciating detail how Lureen's rectum was all messed up from the delivery. I tried to walk away, and I tried to change the subject, but in the end all I could do was seek out my happy place.
During one midnight changing my brother came into the nursery (aka my room) and mentioned he might be wrong about the whole Jesus-is- the-devil thing. Given the fact that his babies were born on Ash Wednesday, and their birthday is a multiple of 7 (how he figured that out I can't begin to imagine) he thinks JC may be OK. He mentioned he may have to rethink the whole Catholics-are-going-to-hell-for-believing-false-Gods. I made the stupid mistake of asking "Why only Catholics?" To which he replied, "They're the only ones that believe in Jesus." and then walked out of the room. All I could do was go back to reading my book. I also got to drive my mother home. Needless to say she traveled with 3 jamba juices and one big gulp of soda, all were spilled at one time or another in my car. And I got to hear her reasons why Oprah's leadership academy will fail, and how parakeets exercise/eat/groom/sleep.
Someone once asked me if I was excited to be the aunt, and if my brother was going to be a great dad. I told them with my brother it will end up going one of two ways. My brother will get all Tyler Perry and have fatherhood make him a man, or he will kidnap the babies, move to Idaho and join a white supremacist group. It's really any ones guess.
This is my aunt story and it actually begins in July, when my brother and his I'm-not-sure-what-to-call-her (they say their married, but had no ceremony, so I just call her by her first name, Lureen) came to my neck of the woods. This was my first meeting of Lureen. She seemed nice, but my brother is a train wreck, so anyone attracted to him brings their own special funk to the mix. A week after I met her I got a phone call at 5:30 in the morning informing me I was an aunt. They just found out they were pregnant. I wish I could tell you I was happy for them, but I honestly felt nothing but dread for that poor little fetus. At this time my brother was convinced that Jesus was really the devil tricking the world, and that multiples of 7 were God's blessing. At any moment he could tell you all the multiples of 7 in his own life (they were always these crazy math problems that never made sense like: 9+3+2/2 is how he knew his apartment was blessed). Lucky for me he lives several hours a way, so I didn't see him often.
In September they found out they were having twins. Again all I could think of was those poor children. Lureen has a child of her own, a 7 y.o with Down Syndrome and I couldn't imagine how they were going to handle twins. My brother also decided in November to stop working, so he could relax before the babies came. Somehow they managed on unemployment, but if I think about this for too long I go crazy. My brother also decided to name his children Racer and Ryder because they were going to be motor cross riders. I asked him once what he would do if the boys did not want to race and he replied, "Kids will do what ever their parents tell them to." And he was not kidding.
Before this blessed event took place my mother and I worked out a system (or so I thought). She would call me once when Lureen went into labor, and I would not answer the phone if it was middle of the night. Let me tell you what happened.
The first of many calls came at 4:30 Wednesday morning. It was my brother telling me Lureen may be in labor. Then my mother called me to repeat this information. For the next two hours my phone rang about 20 times. By the time I answered the phone all I could say was stop calling me I have to go to work. Unfortunately that has never stopped my mother. I think she reached an all new high for phone calls in one day (I think she reached 25). Did I mention I had an important presentation first thing in the morning? Well I did and it pretty much sucked ass.
The babies were born about 5:30pm. Racer came first, then Ryder. They were almost 7 pounds each, and were about 20 inches long. All I know is that everyone was healthy, and my mother hated Lureen's mother (this was their first meeting). I actually heard more about that then I did the actual birthing. Both my mother and father attended the blessed event, but my father booked it right after the babies were born (smart man). I drove up on Friday. I really wanted to stay in a hotel room. Instead I was placed on an air mattress in the nursery, and had the joy of getting woken up and stepped on when ever a baby needed to be changed. It will be along time before I go back.
The babies are fine. My brother is convinced that if he keeps them up during the day they would sleep at night. Did I mention they are only 5 days old? I tried to explain how much sleep babies need, but he didn't believe me. He is convinced they will be on a schedule any day now.
Highlights from my trip include watching my brother yell at his 7 y.o. stepson for putting on a pink pair of socks ("boys don't wear pink!"). He also yelled at him for giving him a kiss too (I believe what he yelled was, "boys don't kiss"). I also got to hear in excruciating detail how Lureen's rectum was all messed up from the delivery. I tried to walk away, and I tried to change the subject, but in the end all I could do was seek out my happy place.
During one midnight changing my brother came into the nursery (aka my room) and mentioned he might be wrong about the whole Jesus-is- the-devil thing. Given the fact that his babies were born on Ash Wednesday, and their birthday is a multiple of 7 (how he figured that out I can't begin to imagine) he thinks JC may be OK. He mentioned he may have to rethink the whole Catholics-are-going-to-hell-for-believing-false-Gods. I made the stupid mistake of asking "Why only Catholics?" To which he replied, "They're the only ones that believe in Jesus." and then walked out of the room. All I could do was go back to reading my book. I also got to drive my mother home. Needless to say she traveled with 3 jamba juices and one big gulp of soda, all were spilled at one time or another in my car. And I got to hear her reasons why Oprah's leadership academy will fail, and how parakeets exercise/eat/groom/sleep.
Someone once asked me if I was excited to be the aunt, and if my brother was going to be a great dad. I told them with my brother it will end up going one of two ways. My brother will get all Tyler Perry and have fatherhood make him a man, or he will kidnap the babies, move to Idaho and join a white supremacist group. It's really any ones guess.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Apparently God Listens to Desperate Pleas
It looks like by the end of the night I will officially be Aunt Lorelai to Racer and Ryder. My auntie story is soon to come. Here's a teaser: I just got a call from my mother (who took the train to where my bro lives) and she said: They're letting her rest. I am here with everyone. I met her mother and I don't like her, I haven't met everyone else yet, but they seem weird. Call me.
Note to self: hold off on calling mom.
To think I am missing all this family bonding. What she doesn't know is that my father is also on the way to hospital. Let the games begin.
It looks like by the end of the night I will officially be Aunt Lorelai to Racer and Ryder. My auntie story is soon to come. Here's a teaser: I just got a call from my mother (who took the train to where my bro lives) and she said: They're letting her rest. I am here with everyone. I met her mother and I don't like her, I haven't met everyone else yet, but they seem weird. Call me.
Note to self: hold off on calling mom.
To think I am missing all this family bonding. What she doesn't know is that my father is also on the way to hospital. Let the games begin.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler
I forgot to say Happy Mardi Gras! I am going to eat crap today (I had a pop tart with lunch), since I am giving up all the fun stuff for Lent. My only word of advise is not to flash your boobs in a crowd, unless you are in New Orleans. I had a friend who thought that was the way to get beads (and she wanted to show off a boob job), and she got arrested. That was my Debbie Downer PSA.
I forgot to say Happy Mardi Gras! I am going to eat crap today (I had a pop tart with lunch), since I am giving up all the fun stuff for Lent. My only word of advise is not to flash your boobs in a crowd, unless you are in New Orleans. I had a friend who thought that was the way to get beads (and she wanted to show off a boob job), and she got arrested. That was my Debbie Downer PSA.
I Want My Buddha's Delight
I had been looking forward to my 4 day weekend for over a month. And it went by so fast. At least I got to sleep in. Other highlights from my weekend include:
Friday: A visit to the "girl doctor" (as my dad calls it). My insurance sucks ass and won't pay for an annual, so I had to go to Planned Parenthood (where they will do it for free-sweet). I have never been to one before, and it was nicer than I expected. I was also the oldest person there by about 10 years (patient wise), which was lovely. The visit was over quickly, and that's the best thing you can say about those visits. This is the second day of the year I hate being a girl (the other being when we go to the woods-I have pee issues).
Saturday: Family trip to the movies. I called all my aunts and their kids about 9 of us went to see Music and Lyrics. It was really cute, but the best part was the company. I sat between my aunt and her daughter and they were hilarious. Apparently they have been eating well, and exercising like crazy (they went for a 2 hour walk before the movie), so they used the movie as a free day. At one point my cousin got a look of pain on her face when she realized she did not take a lactaid pill. She looked like she was going to faint or throw up, and I got the giggles. Awful of me yes, but it was like that scene in French Kiss when Meg Ryan eats all the cheese. I also went shopping and found the dress I want to wear to a weeding in May and my graduation in June. Now all I need is for it to go on sale so I can buy it.
On Sunday I hung out with my dad and his g.f.'s family at a BBQ. It was fun, and once again I kicked ass in scrabble. My strategy this time was just to add one letter to the end of big words (toxine was my favorite). My brother's girlfriend thought she was in labor, so we almost had to travel 4 hours to where they are. I was praying the babies would wait, as my mom has not been feeling well and the road trip would have been hell. Sure enough God listens to desperate pleas, and the labor stopped and they were sent home. Dodged that bullet.
Monday I ran errands pretty much all day. It felt like I was running in circles, but it was nice to get my errands run in the light of day. I also felt really cool when I bought a pedometer at Target. That is, until I tried to use it, and it only registers once every 20 steps. Dammit Janet.
Now I am back to work. I have lots of reports due this week and a presentation tomorrow on Reactive Attachment Disorder. Wish me luck.
I had been looking forward to my 4 day weekend for over a month. And it went by so fast. At least I got to sleep in. Other highlights from my weekend include:
Friday: A visit to the "girl doctor" (as my dad calls it). My insurance sucks ass and won't pay for an annual, so I had to go to Planned Parenthood (where they will do it for free-sweet). I have never been to one before, and it was nicer than I expected. I was also the oldest person there by about 10 years (patient wise), which was lovely. The visit was over quickly, and that's the best thing you can say about those visits. This is the second day of the year I hate being a girl (the other being when we go to the woods-I have pee issues).
Saturday: Family trip to the movies. I called all my aunts and their kids about 9 of us went to see Music and Lyrics. It was really cute, but the best part was the company. I sat between my aunt and her daughter and they were hilarious. Apparently they have been eating well, and exercising like crazy (they went for a 2 hour walk before the movie), so they used the movie as a free day. At one point my cousin got a look of pain on her face when she realized she did not take a lactaid pill. She looked like she was going to faint or throw up, and I got the giggles. Awful of me yes, but it was like that scene in French Kiss when Meg Ryan eats all the cheese. I also went shopping and found the dress I want to wear to a weeding in May and my graduation in June. Now all I need is for it to go on sale so I can buy it.
On Sunday I hung out with my dad and his g.f.'s family at a BBQ. It was fun, and once again I kicked ass in scrabble. My strategy this time was just to add one letter to the end of big words (toxine was my favorite). My brother's girlfriend thought she was in labor, so we almost had to travel 4 hours to where they are. I was praying the babies would wait, as my mom has not been feeling well and the road trip would have been hell. Sure enough God listens to desperate pleas, and the labor stopped and they were sent home. Dodged that bullet.
Monday I ran errands pretty much all day. It felt like I was running in circles, but it was nice to get my errands run in the light of day. I also felt really cool when I bought a pedometer at Target. That is, until I tried to use it, and it only registers once every 20 steps. Dammit Janet.
Now I am back to work. I have lots of reports due this week and a presentation tomorrow on Reactive Attachment Disorder. Wish me luck.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
You're Too Kind. Really.
Aside from being the week of celebrating love and S.A.D. it is also the week for Random Acts of Kindness. Yesterday, a coworker offered to set me up on a date with the homeless man that washed her car windows. Even though I politely declined, I think this counts for her act. I still haven't figured out what my act will be. I tried to not to curse at drivers today, but that was too hard (freeway drivers suck it hard). I was nice to someone who bugs me, so maybe that counts. What will your act be? And if we designate a week for practicing random acts of kindness, do they really count as random?
Aside from being the week of celebrating love and S.A.D. it is also the week for Random Acts of Kindness. Yesterday, a coworker offered to set me up on a date with the homeless man that washed her car windows. Even though I politely declined, I think this counts for her act. I still haven't figured out what my act will be. I tried to not to curse at drivers today, but that was too hard (freeway drivers suck it hard). I was nice to someone who bugs me, so maybe that counts. What will your act be? And if we designate a week for practicing random acts of kindness, do they really count as random?
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Valentine's Day: The Other Jewish Holiday
Last year a friend was telling me about her Valentine's Day plans when I remembered something. She was Jewish. Curious, I asked her about this (especially since a month before she went on a rant as to why she would never celebrate Christmas). She replied that as a Jew all she had to celebrate was Passover and Hannukuh, so she annexed Valentine's Day for her people. So to my friends, both Jewish and otherwise, Happy V-day.
Last year a friend was telling me about her Valentine's Day plans when I remembered something. She was Jewish. Curious, I asked her about this (especially since a month before she went on a rant as to why she would never celebrate Christmas). She replied that as a Jew all she had to celebrate was Passover and Hannukuh, so she annexed Valentine's Day for her people. So to my friends, both Jewish and otherwise, Happy V-day.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Curse of the Weapon Wielding Toddler
S.A.D. does not stand for Seasonal Affective Disorder this month, but Singles Awareness Day (or for you who have someone to call your own, Valentine's Day). I can remember being a child and loving Valentine's Day. I will admit any holiday whose major function is to receive candy is a winner in my book. As an adult this holiday has been less than lovely. Starting off with the fact that I never seem to have a date on this holy of holiest date nights. Luckily, I always have fellow S.A.D. members to commiserate with. It also doesn't help that I appear to have a V-day curse (thankfully it doesn't appear to be contagious to anyone except my immediate family).
It began when my father's house was searched by our cities finest, looking for my brother (and all the property he stole). At the time I was living with my father, so to come home and find everything you own in a pile on the floor is unsettling to say the least. For those who are unaware, when the Po-po have a warrant to search they look everywhere and through everything; pulling clothing out of drawers and your mattress off the bedspring. To be honest, my room was a sty before the Fuzz arrived, and more than anything I was embarrassed that someone had looked through things I considered personal (like dirty laundry). Even now when I see an officer I wonder if they had a part in pawing through my laundry or rummaging through the bowels of my cloest (finding nothing more than clothes and romance novels on the floor).
A year ago on Valentine's day my mother was hospitalized for 7 days. For those 7 days I commuted between work and school to her hospital, bringing her cigarettes, for her as well as her new friends in the hospital. I will admit it is funny looking back on how I tried to find 12 kinds of cigarettes for the different patients in my mother's ward. Many were brands I had never heard of and was told by countless store clerks were too cheap to be carried by their stores. Before this time I never knew a cigarette could be considered "too cheap" to be sold at a shop and rob. Not to mention I brought in all the other things patients requested (such as clothing and candy-which I found out was not allowed to be brought in to her wing-but cigarettes were ok-weird). Apparently I was the only one to visit a family member, so everyone had a request. And one night when I visited I got lost trying to leave and thought I would have to spend the night. Luckily I was saved by hospital staff.
I have been feeling out of sorts for the last two weeks and I knew it was because of the Cupid Curse. I have also not spoke to my mother in about a week and a half, due to this fear. Fear that her hospitalization was not a one time thing, but rather an annual event. I finally called her on Thursday and my fears were confirmed. She is beginning to get sick again and if it progresses she may need to be hospitalized. At this point there is nothing left but to wait it out. I am so looking forward Wednesday being over.
I leave you with this quote that pretty much sums up S.A.D. for me:
"I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon."
- Unknown
S.A.D. does not stand for Seasonal Affective Disorder this month, but Singles Awareness Day (or for you who have someone to call your own, Valentine's Day). I can remember being a child and loving Valentine's Day. I will admit any holiday whose major function is to receive candy is a winner in my book. As an adult this holiday has been less than lovely. Starting off with the fact that I never seem to have a date on this holy of holiest date nights. Luckily, I always have fellow S.A.D. members to commiserate with. It also doesn't help that I appear to have a V-day curse (thankfully it doesn't appear to be contagious to anyone except my immediate family).
It began when my father's house was searched by our cities finest, looking for my brother (and all the property he stole). At the time I was living with my father, so to come home and find everything you own in a pile on the floor is unsettling to say the least. For those who are unaware, when the Po-po have a warrant to search they look everywhere and through everything; pulling clothing out of drawers and your mattress off the bedspring. To be honest, my room was a sty before the Fuzz arrived, and more than anything I was embarrassed that someone had looked through things I considered personal (like dirty laundry). Even now when I see an officer I wonder if they had a part in pawing through my laundry or rummaging through the bowels of my cloest (finding nothing more than clothes and romance novels on the floor).
A year ago on Valentine's day my mother was hospitalized for 7 days. For those 7 days I commuted between work and school to her hospital, bringing her cigarettes, for her as well as her new friends in the hospital. I will admit it is funny looking back on how I tried to find 12 kinds of cigarettes for the different patients in my mother's ward. Many were brands I had never heard of and was told by countless store clerks were too cheap to be carried by their stores. Before this time I never knew a cigarette could be considered "too cheap" to be sold at a shop and rob. Not to mention I brought in all the other things patients requested (such as clothing and candy-which I found out was not allowed to be brought in to her wing-but cigarettes were ok-weird). Apparently I was the only one to visit a family member, so everyone had a request. And one night when I visited I got lost trying to leave and thought I would have to spend the night. Luckily I was saved by hospital staff.
I have been feeling out of sorts for the last two weeks and I knew it was because of the Cupid Curse. I have also not spoke to my mother in about a week and a half, due to this fear. Fear that her hospitalization was not a one time thing, but rather an annual event. I finally called her on Thursday and my fears were confirmed. She is beginning to get sick again and if it progresses she may need to be hospitalized. At this point there is nothing left but to wait it out. I am so looking forward Wednesday being over.
I leave you with this quote that pretty much sums up S.A.D. for me:
"I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon."
- Unknown
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Wish Me Luck
Since I gots no plans tonight I am thinking of upgrading my template. I have heard that it can be easy, and I have heard you can lose everything, so here goes nothing.
Well everything seemed to go ok. Maybe because I don't have many things on my blog (mostly because I don't know how to get all fancy like). I would still love to figure out how to change my header by adding a picture. That will have to wait for another day though. Laundry she is a calling.
Since I gots no plans tonight I am thinking of upgrading my template. I have heard that it can be easy, and I have heard you can lose everything, so here goes nothing.
Well everything seemed to go ok. Maybe because I don't have many things on my blog (mostly because I don't know how to get all fancy like). I would still love to figure out how to change my header by adding a picture. That will have to wait for another day though. Laundry she is a calling.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Why am I so shocked?
When I was at work someone told me to check msn.com. The first thing I saw was the news headline that Anna Nicole Smith was dead. I was surprised and I don't know why. She is always in the news and rarely for good reasons. I don't know much about her, besides the gossipy crap on the entertainment news shows. But she was a mother who lost her son recently, and had a baby girl who needed her. I think that's what made me so sad, the thought of what will happen to the baby. Anna Nicole's life was turbulent, and even now the gossip shows are trying to squeeze all they can from her death. I hope she is at peace. And I pray her baby is protected and loved.
When I was at work someone told me to check msn.com. The first thing I saw was the news headline that Anna Nicole Smith was dead. I was surprised and I don't know why. She is always in the news and rarely for good reasons. I don't know much about her, besides the gossipy crap on the entertainment news shows. But she was a mother who lost her son recently, and had a baby girl who needed her. I think that's what made me so sad, the thought of what will happen to the baby. Anna Nicole's life was turbulent, and even now the gossip shows are trying to squeeze all they can from her death. I hope she is at peace. And I pray her baby is protected and loved.
Monday, February 05, 2007
One scary faun, one un-marching band concert, and one dating dad. Must be my weekend recap.
I spent Super Bowl with my dad and his girlfriend. So weird writing that my dad has a girlfriend ( to my aunt and uncle who sometimes read this don't mention to him the g.f. or that I am weirded out). Thanks be her daughters were there, as was her 80 something year old father and his girlfriend (who I found out has schizophrenia. I found out after getting into a talk about schizophrenia with g.f.'s daughter while the g.f. was staring at us. In a word, awkward). But there was something magical in the air that day and for once the team I picked won something (I should have placed a bet). I am usually a curse on teams or horses (if I am at the races). And my luck continued when I realized I left my keys stuck in the door handle at my dad's house for about 7 hours. Surprisingly no one stole my car. Unsurprisingly, all my cd's were still there (not a big market for big band music and the greatest hits of the Bare Naked Ladies where my dad lives). That was the first time I have ever left my keys in the door handle. I have left them in my apt door over night, and even locked in the car. The funny thing was I knew something was weird, and as I drove away with my dad to g.f.'s house I reached in my purse for my keys, but then talked myself out of panicking. Dammit, Oprah was right and I do need to follow my instinct.
It was funny talking to g.f.'s daughters about how weird it was to have parents dating. I felt good hearing it freaked them out too. One of the daughters was funny. She said, "Don't get me wrong we really like your dad, and you too, and we haven't liked everyone mom has brought home." Good to know they like me too.
Also among this weekend's activities was a trip to see Pan's Labyrinth. I flinched and turned my head all the way through this movie. I couldn't even handle the non-scary moments because I was so panicky about being scared. I sat next to someone who has never seen this side of me before and I think it frightened him. Luckily, he had seen this movie before, and was okay with me whispering, "Just tell me how it ends dammit!" I had weird dreams that night and I blame this movie.
On Saturday we went to a band concert. I was thinking rocking music, but what I should have been thinking was John Sousa. Yes it was a marching band concert, sans marching. It was actually really fun, but I was under dressed in jeans, and all marches sound the same to me. Oh the conductor tried to explain the subtle differences (like one sounded more military, and one ore circusy), but it's all the same march in my ears. I am still boggled that people paid tens of thousands of dollars to have a march composed. But I actually think I want to attend the next one, since I know one of the musicians. It's all about embracing my inner geekness. I also had about a 30 second crush on a flute player (I have never seen a male flute player before and he was really cute in a geeky sort of way), but then I saw his ring and overheard someone mention his wife. No marching band romance for me. Another dream denied.
I spent Super Bowl with my dad and his girlfriend. So weird writing that my dad has a girlfriend ( to my aunt and uncle who sometimes read this don't mention to him the g.f. or that I am weirded out). Thanks be her daughters were there, as was her 80 something year old father and his girlfriend (who I found out has schizophrenia. I found out after getting into a talk about schizophrenia with g.f.'s daughter while the g.f. was staring at us. In a word, awkward). But there was something magical in the air that day and for once the team I picked won something (I should have placed a bet). I am usually a curse on teams or horses (if I am at the races). And my luck continued when I realized I left my keys stuck in the door handle at my dad's house for about 7 hours. Surprisingly no one stole my car. Unsurprisingly, all my cd's were still there (not a big market for big band music and the greatest hits of the Bare Naked Ladies where my dad lives). That was the first time I have ever left my keys in the door handle. I have left them in my apt door over night, and even locked in the car. The funny thing was I knew something was weird, and as I drove away with my dad to g.f.'s house I reached in my purse for my keys, but then talked myself out of panicking. Dammit, Oprah was right and I do need to follow my instinct.
It was funny talking to g.f.'s daughters about how weird it was to have parents dating. I felt good hearing it freaked them out too. One of the daughters was funny. She said, "Don't get me wrong we really like your dad, and you too, and we haven't liked everyone mom has brought home." Good to know they like me too.
Also among this weekend's activities was a trip to see Pan's Labyrinth. I flinched and turned my head all the way through this movie. I couldn't even handle the non-scary moments because I was so panicky about being scared. I sat next to someone who has never seen this side of me before and I think it frightened him. Luckily, he had seen this movie before, and was okay with me whispering, "Just tell me how it ends dammit!" I had weird dreams that night and I blame this movie.
On Saturday we went to a band concert. I was thinking rocking music, but what I should have been thinking was John Sousa. Yes it was a marching band concert, sans marching. It was actually really fun, but I was under dressed in jeans, and all marches sound the same to me. Oh the conductor tried to explain the subtle differences (like one sounded more military, and one ore circusy), but it's all the same march in my ears. I am still boggled that people paid tens of thousands of dollars to have a march composed. But I actually think I want to attend the next one, since I know one of the musicians. It's all about embracing my inner geekness. I also had about a 30 second crush on a flute player (I have never seen a male flute player before and he was really cute in a geeky sort of way), but then I saw his ring and overheard someone mention his wife. No marching band romance for me. Another dream denied.
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