Rats in the Kitchen, and hallucinations of God.

This was a pretty chill weekend. I saw Evan Almighty on Saturday and Ratatouille on Sunday. I also read the latest Dean Koontz, Christine Feehan, and Lora Leigh books (all fantastic).

While I found Evan Almighty funny it also made me think. Even though I try to find the heavenly in the everyday, I don't think that I would be okay with talking to God. I would need to check myself into the hospital and request lots of medication. I know I've been in school too long when I started diagnosing Evan as the movie is playing.

Hallucinations and crazy hair aside it also made me think about what I pray for. Morgan Freeman (who plays an excellent God) spoke of getting what you ask for. If you pray for patience (which I do all the time), you will get opprotunities to practice being patient (like I don't know, having people drive slow and crazy on my commute). This makes sense to me, for the first time this year I felt a little more calm on my way to work (sure I was shouting "you slow opprotunity!" but it worked).

As for Ratatouille, the movie cracked me up and creeped me out at the same time. While I can generally be amazed with what Disney puts out, I was wigged the entire time by rats in the kitchen. That is not okay. I kept thinking of the plague and other disgusting diseases. I even saw a rat in my neighborhood as I was driving home that night. Gross.

Today marks the fact that I have one month left of my internship. I am excited and nervous at the same time. This means I have to seriously decide what I want to do next year (and pretty much decide today), and gear up to have a social life. So far I plan on attending cooking classes and taking a photography class. I was also thinking of joining a bowling league (but I suck so that seems mean for the possible teammates). Any suggestions are welcome.

As my friends know that countdown to social life is approaching there has been talk of setting me up on blind dates (which I tend to say no to). Saturday my friend said her father was even looking for a good mechanic/Catholic I could date. Her father is 85 so this should be good. I am guessing that the person he sets me up with is a spry 65. Fingers crossed he has his own teeth and hair.

Although I might be ready to date a 65 year old. I had a school visit today and one girl asked another girl (while pointing at me), "Is that your grandma?" I love Mondays.

Please Don't Do This. 4Real.

A friend just sent this to me. I really hope the baby doesn't end up with this name. Can you imagine the teasing he will take for the rest of his life. What's the wackiest baby name you have heard of? For me it would be Meconium (although I am still hoping this was an urban legend).

Dear John...

Must be my week to catch all the fun articles . The short of this one is John Travolta agrees with Tom Cruise (although he would have handled it differently so he's okay), and blames all the school shootings on psychotropic medicines.

Hi John, I'm Lorelai. Thanks for sharing your opinion. Now let me tell you about me and my job. I have been working my ass off for the last 10 years to graduate with a doctorate in psychology. My emphasis is in child psyhcology. I work with the kids who have been kicked out of preschools, play dates, and recreational programs. They have smeared their shit, cut themselves, and hurt others. I work with families who are overwhelmed and frustrated. I work with kids who have faced more abuse and trauma in their young lives than I have faced in almost 30 years. Do I think that sometimes kids are over-medicated? Hell yes I do. I do not recommend meds as a first option for any child. There are foods and parent tools I always recommend first. Therapy is another first option. Have I ever seen a child who is so ill that medicine is an option. Hell yes I have. And I have seen many adults who benefit from medicine. I also have a mother who believes that she is followed by gangs, and her cell phone and her computer are full of devices that watch her and taunt her. When her hallucinations are particularly bad she will put black screening material up to keep the bad guys from seeing her and trying to hurt her. I look at my mother and I wish she would take medication. Maybe then she would have some sort of a quality to her life.

Tell me John, did your wife ever feel so dark after giving birth to your two beautiful kids that she contemplated killing your babies? I really hope she didn't, but many women feel this way (or some sort of PPD) and I don't care what your feelings are, you don't get to judge people who seek help. They are not weak for using meds. In fact they are some of the strongest damn people I know.

I am glad you're a night owl, guess what I am too. But have you ever stayed up all night because if you closed your eyes the hallucinations would become so bad the only way to stop them was to kill yourself? Talk to someone who has, and tell them they are wrong for seeking medical treatment.

Let's talk about psychotropic medications causing school shootings. First off, the medical and mental health records of the V-Tech killer are not released so how do you know he was on psychotropic meds? It was believed that he didn't attend the counseling he was ordered to, so I find it hard to believe that he would be med compliant. As for the other shooters, some were one meds and some weren't, so let's get this out of the way, meds don't cause shooters. They may be a factor, the same way the family, school, peer group, and self are factors.

Do we need gun control? I think we do. Do we need to know more about psychotropic meds? Yes we do especially those we give to kids. But we also need better access to mental health, and we need to remove the stigma that comes with mental illness. But I don't think you'll help me with this. That's okay, I can work on it without you or Tom's help.

I am happy you are blessed to have a wonderful family and a supportive religion. You're right to think that everyone should be able to voice their opinion. Here's my opinion: I think yours sucks. It is full of faulty logic and a lack of compassion for a group of people who are already feeling isolated and overwhelmed. The saddest part of all of this is that you have power because of your fame. And while many will read your article and think of you as a pompous jackass, for some your words will keep them from seeking treatment.

Wow this really pissed me off. Jumping off my pedestal now. Peace out.

Speed It Up Padre!


I just read this article . I love when psychology and the law come together. I hope the judge also ordered the man to complete counseling.


And just in case you were wondering what the Vatican thought about road rage check out this article I know I struggle on a daily basis not to hate slow and stupid drivers. I wonder if the pope has ever yelled at someone who cut him off? I bet you get a double sin if you yell at the pope mobile (you know that thing goes 20 tops).

Mom shaved her legs, someone got punched in a bathroom, and a conversation with mall security. All this and more in Weekend Recap.

After my dad's b-day dinner we went to this department store to find something for my g-pa for father's day. This is a nice store, upscale like Nordstroms. We got in just before closing. I found my g-pa golf shirts, and my friend found something to wear for a wedding she was attending the next day. Her mom and my dad were hanging out waiting for us to finish. Her mom used the restroom and could hear several girls who sounded drunk. She found us waiting in line to pay. She explained what she heard then stated she was going to find a manager. My friend said she wanted to see what was happening and walked in. About a minute later 3 young girls (like 16 or so) stumble out. They say something about someone getting hit and walk away. We walk into the bathroom and my friend is holding a paper towel to her lip and stated she was punched when she told them to quiet down.

The cashier called the manager. The manager called the mall cops. The mall cops came and did nothing. We found one of the girls--her friends ditched her. She started off acting tough but by the end of the night she was crying and wanting to go home (we broke her with kindness). My friend's mom paid for a cab to take her home. Standing there listen to my friend and this young girl talk, I once again realized how sheltered my life is. I have never been in a bathroom brawl, or been so drunk/high I felt like I could take anyone on. I was also never allowed to dress like a prostitute when I left the house. I thought about that girl this weekend and I hope she is okay. I also hope the swelling went down in my friend's lip in time for the wedding she attended.

I also had father's day activities all day on Sunday. Beginning with my mom's side. We had a luncheon for my g-pa and it began was with my mom talking about shaving her legs in honor of the occasion. I wasn't sure how to respond to that so I ignored it. She also mentioned wanting to get a hummingbird tattoo. Again I ignored this. Lastly she brought out pictures of the fam. Some dating back to me in junior high. Those were not good years for me. I came to the realization that my mom is a crappy picture taker, but only in pictures she takes of me. If I am talking or making an awful face she was there. I love candids as much as the next person, but I like there to still be prettiness in the candid. One picture was so close of me you could see my nose pores. And it looked like my eyes were crossed. I took the pics with me to be destroyed. If I hadn't they would have ended up on my wedding cake. Thanks mom.

I also saw Ocean's 13 and hand my first mojito (or half of one). All in all it was an entertaining weekend. Next weekend is more family events, so I am sure there will be more stories.

A Post About My Father

Friday my dad turned 55. Getting through this year has been one of the most stressful things I have ever done. My dad is perfectly healthy (although he is an occasional chain smoker), and the worst thing he had was the flu this winter. Even knowing this I have been terrified waiting for this day to come. Dad has a unique family history. His father and his father's father both died at 54. He has older siblings (none of whom died in their 54th year), and one told him he wouldn't know scared until he turned 54. But my dad is funny in that he would be okay with dying. Not to say he's suicidal, merely that he has lived a good life and he has no major regrets. I don't know if he has been worried at all this year, meanwhile I have been stress eating like a fiend for the last 3 weeks.

I am glad my dad is in a place of acceptance for what ever comes. I am so not there yet. I want him around for at least 55 more years. He needs to terrorize my future husband and make me laugh as we walk down the aisle. He needs to take my children to the ranch (or the gym/bagel shop) and teach them all about the things he loves (the gym/bagel shop/PBS). He needs to be there to talk with me and comfort me when my mother is falling apart. I need one stable parent.

I really did score getting him for a dad. He is amazingly supportive of his kids, as well anyone he meets. Just today I had two friends tell me they wished he was their dad.

One of my favorite dad memories happened when I was a sophomore in high school. I was sitting in class when a voice came over the speaker and told me my dad was picking me up for lunch. I thought I was the shit getting to miss cafeteria food. When I got to the car my brother was also there, and to be honest I was a little confused. My dad was not a pick you up take you to lunch guy. At first I thought someone died and he was trying to soften the blow with a milk shake (which is what he did when our dog died). Instead of McDonald's or Carl's Jr he took us to a homeless shelter. As we pulled up he talked to us about how important it was to help others. He knew the directer of the shelter, and so for lunch that day we served mashed potatoes and some meat with gravy. I remember thinking in that moment he was the coolest guy ever.

In recent years something I have treasured was going with him to see Paul McCartney. Dad is a big Beatles fan. As a child he used to tell me all about the stories behind the songs. He was so excited when we were old enough to fully appreciate "Let It Be." For as much as he loved the Beatles he never had the chance to see them in person. Over a year ago Paul went on tour and my dad and I drove 3 hours to see him. I sat next to him and cried as Paul sang all the songs that mean the most to my dad. I told him that I was crying because of Paul, but really it was because I knew how special that night was. There are moments in my life that I know are special even as I am experiencing them and that one. The plan was to stay in a hotel after the concert, but my dad was so jazzed up after the concert that he drove straight home talking about how great all the songs were. I tried to sleep as songs ran through my head.

On Friday night at dinner we reminisced about all the stories that come up when families are together. We laughed about his love for instant coffee and Seinfeld. And then he began singing "Happy Birthday" to himself when the cake came -- before anyone else was ready to sing, and even when we all joined in his voice was still the loudest.

Just so you don't think he is a paragon of virtue I should tell you he is basically a big ball of republicanism (who says he's "independent", but I call him on his voting record for the past 20 years). Since I am a big old Democrat this can lead to all sorts of fun debates. Last week he told me he wondered if global warming even existed. Sometimes I wonder if he says this stuff just so we'll argue. I can't wait for the presidential elections. He is also a workaholic who doesn't want to trouble others, so he does everything himself.

In honor of his birthday and Father's day I dedicate this post to my dad. Thanks for everthing you do, and here is to 55 more years of memories.

Dear God, Please Let Me Be Hormonal

Because I kid you not, I cried during the first 10 minutes of the season finale of One Tree Hill. In my defense (weak that it is), someone was dying and someone was giving birth (and the dying person went to the other side and saw the love of her life-I should stop now because this is not making it better) . Also in my defense I laughed during the rest of it, especially when one of the moms told her son to go to a crazy party and have fun while she watched his kid. Sweet.

I also laughed during the new show, Creature Comforts. Check it out if you haven't already.

Suck This AARP

As I was looking through my mail I saw a post card to join AARP. My friend who was on the phone when I read this vile piece of junk mail heard my gasp of dismay and thought it was pretty funny. Maybe I will sign her up for AARP. She does have a b-day coming up.

Thing That Creeps Me Out #156

Getting a call from my home phone when I am at work. Luckily, it was just my mother calling me to let me know she brought food over, and not the neighborhood robber wondering where I keep the good china (I have no good china in case you wondered, but if you want old tea cup plates come on over.)

Why my plan to blog was waylaid by a man and his love of a horse...


Last night my intent was to blog, and I even signed in to blogger. But WifeSwap was on and I swear to you one of the wives said, "Dan has a deep and intimate love for his horse." I was hooked. It really did live up to my expectations of fine programming. One wife got yelled at for not washing the horse to Dan's standards (she wasn't close enough with the hose to the horse's behind--not being a horse lover I wonder if that really make a difference?) The cowboy wife yelled at the "house honey" a.k.a. the other dad, for basically being a wimp and not being a "manly man." He cried at that, he showed her all the jewelry his wife buys him, then he said, "I am vacuuming and I don't care what she thinks." For the rule change she bought him manly clothes--a cowboy hat and a shirt with fringe. He still kept his jewelry on.

I don't know why, but this show gets me every week. I love how surprised the families are at the rule change, and how crazy everyone gets thinking their way is the only way. There was only one episode I have never been able to watch, and that involved a family who ate raw, rotting meat. I vurp thinking about it.

Speaking of T.V., my dream last night included the cast of One Tree Hill. Yes, I watch a teen soap opera. But in my defense I watch it with my teenage cousin, and I try to impart my wisdom on her (like don't shoot other kids, don't get pregnant in high school, and don't cheat on math finals). That really doesn't make it better. I think I dreamt of the season finale. Hopefully my brain is not trying to tell me I watch too much T.V. Supermommy's son once included the characters of Caillou in his prayers and she took that as a sign he needed more play dates with real kids.

Confessions of an Almost Docling...

I can't believe it's been almost a month since my last post. In that time I have almost graduated (I walked, but it's not official till I finish my internship), almost found a job for next year (still trying to decide between two places), and I almost had a vacation (more than spending 3 days on my couch watching soaps).

I have lots to write and no time at work to fully say it all. I will leave you leave you with a little something my best friend's daughter (who is 3) said when someone hoped she would become a doctor one day. Through her sobbing tears she was able to tell her mother that she didn't want to be a doctor, she wanted to be a princess. Now that I am almost grown up I can sympathize.

You dirty little monkey

Today I learned the meaning of two phrases. As I innocently read Sarah and the Goon Squad I came upon the phrases Dirty Sanchez and Donkey Punch. Not knowing the meaning behind the phrases I began my search on blingo. Thanks to Wikipedia for the helpful (gross) descriptions. When I told Sigmund that I learned about dirty sanchez he said, "Well at least Boots didn't give Dora a donkey punch." I laughingly told him that was also referenced. Then I got to explain a donkey punch to Carl (like I am the freaking expert now). We also discussed Screech, and how no amount of therapy (or booze could make it okay for the women in his video. Moments like this make me realize how sheltered my life is. And how okay I am with that.

Mothers, Fake Dates, and the Beach

This weekend I went to the beach for a wedding. My friend Sigmund went as my fake date. It was also my first wedding in which my father wasn't my date (or I went alone), so that was a pleasant change. We enjoyed the margarita and taco bar, as well as the funny couples we were seated with. Another couple, Carl and Stanley, came along for the road trip as well.

We began by having dinner at this honky tonk place in the middle of nowhere. I forgot how many country songs I know, and I think I scared my travel companions with this knowledge. In honor of this dinner, "cowboy up" was the term for the weekend. We also stopped for gas about a block from the honky tonk and it was like entering the Grindhouse double feature. Everyone in the station either looked they were were about to die (like the female college students who loudly talked about how they were lost and needed to call their moms and let them know they are not dead- this wasn't foreshadowing at all) or wanted to kill others (like the stupid girls).

Saturday after the wedding Sig and I met up with Carl and Stanley and wandered around town. At dinner I was more in love with the Bollywood films being shown than the company or the food. They were great films of love and loss and of course dancing.

Sunday started out well. We had a nice breakfast at the local IHOP (umm pancakes) then went shopping. Then my mother called.

She has begun hallucinating again and forgot I was not in town. Right there in the middle of a busy sidewalk I stopped and listened as my mother began talking about all the people following her, watching her, and destroying her house. I was near a restaurant where families were celebrating Mother's Day, and it finally hit me that this was it. For the rest of her life this would be the down and the ups would never get as up as they once were. I have thought about it before but now I realize one day she will need me to see to her care 24/7. Sigh.

I looked over at my friends who were pretending not to watch me try not to fall apart, and I was glad to have such good company. Even speaking to my therapist about it yesterday didn't quite take the sadness away. Mother's day has never been a holiday I enjoyed with my mother anyways (reasons why best saved for a later post), but it hit me that one day potentially every holiday could sound like this. Am I ready to be her caretaker full time? No, not even close to ready. I am not even ready to be a real grown up yet, much less be in charge of her. Is anyone ever ready to parent their parent?

And so you don't think my Sunday was completely a downer I will end by telling you how I began to conquer not one, but two fears. As I drove my travel weary friends home I needed to use the restroom. I had my fill of scary gas station bathrooms (where you know you'll get the monkey pox if your butt touches the seat) and asked Sig if I could use his. He looked a little alarmed but agreed. He tried to tell me it was a little dirty, but not monkey pox dirty. What he didn't tell me was that the last time he entered that room in his house was the first day he moved in. There were spider webs everywhere including the toilet bowl, and as I tried to sweep them off the place I would soon be sitting he stood outside the door telling me this was better than the upstairs one. I have a hard time using the restroom while other people are around, and well spiders scare the crap out of me. But I did what I needed to. And hopefully received no spider bite in the ass.

Of Goals and Boobs


Today's post was going to be entirely dedicated to the fact that I am half way to my total weight loss goal. Once again being sick helped me get over the plateau. So yeah for me! And yeah for sickness!

In other news, I read Queen of Spain's post just now, and feel the need to comment (to all 5 of my readers out there). While there will be no boob flashing on my post (since it is anonymous), I can appreciate why others are letting it all hang out. Apparently, Maggie Gyllenhall (I have no idea how to spell that last name) was caught breast feeding in public. Oh the horrors! Cover your eyes!

Really people, we're going to be angry about this? Not genocides that are taking place globally, not Iraq, and certainly not the fact that here in this country people are abused and mistreated on a daily basis. No, we're going to be pissed about breast feeding. (Prepare for the rant...)

It's madness. I don't have children, and since I want to adopt I don't plan on breast feeding, but it is crazy how our society seems to demonize women who do. These are moms who are making the best choice they can for their babies. It's a miracle that not every mom can experience and it should be revered and not shamed. This is Lorelai stepping off her podium now.

If you are bold, let it all hang out at QoS too!

Jealously, thy name is Halta Lorelai

I am totally feeling green because Supermommy (who just came back from a cruise) is going to the beach with her family for a few days. I want to lay by the pool too dammit. It made me remember all the times when my parents would bundle us in the car right before nap time and take us to a "surprise." The surprise was always the beach but I never guessed it (but I always guessed Chuck E Cheese). So here I am at my desk, while they get to be near the ocean. Being a grown up sucks.

In other news the pirate fair was okay. There weren't many people around so it was a very small fair. I heard a lot of pirate jokes and saw many a womens chests exposed in the name of being a "wench" but alas, I took no pirate lover home. Truth be told the pirate who was also a magician was kind of cute, but that romance was not to be.

And last but not least. I am going to be Halta Lorelai for the third time! Halta means aunt in arabic (which I can never pronounce properly). My bestest friend ever (the one who is coming for my graduation) is pregnant, and I was the first one they told! Dammit I can't keep news like this to myself. So I called people who have no contact with her (such as Supermommy, which is how I found out about the beach trip).
I can't wait to meet my newest neice or nephew. My prediction is that it will be a boy (she has two girls now).

Mom's Day Contest





Check out this link to win neat prizes for yourself, or a mom you know!

Captain Fritz Tamera Rides Again

After discovering my pirate/porn name last month I didn't think I would use it again (well, at least not in reference to being a pirate). This I found out my city is hosting a pirate fair this weekend. There will be pirate booty to buy (old eye patches and broken peg legs), grog to drink (whatever the hell that is), food to eat (salted fish and biscuits made with weevils), and hopefully unwashed men in tight pants and billowy shirts (fingers crossed).

Dirty Rotten Carrots

I was trying all day to eat healthy. My afternoon snack was going to be carrots. As I reached into my little baggie for another baby carrot I felt slime. Not the typical carrot texture, so I looked around and found the rotting culprit. And was so grossed out I had a mint chocolate cookie. It worked too. I was so impressed with the chocolatey minty goodness I forgot about the carrot. Thanks junk food, once again you saved my day.

Some Days It's Really Clear Why I Am Single

Do I spend my weekends at the local meat markets or even in a place where I would have a chance to meet a man older than 3? Nope. I spent my Saturday night with Supermommy and Ponch, and the night ended with me getting my ears cleaned out (Ponch was my spotter holding the ear candle). I even took a picture of the wax that came out in the ear candle, but maybe somethings should be left off the blog.

It Was All I Expected and More

It began when the waiter dropped my glass of ice water on my friend (thankfully not the b-day girl who would have stabbed him). It was all down her back and on her pants so it looked like she peed herself. She also had a lemon on her shoulder. After a few minutes a new waiter came out and asked my friend if she was okay. My friend replied that she was still wet, and not the good kind of wet. It was all I could do not to spray the drink of water I had all over her. The waiter just walked away. Thanks Olive Garden.

Maybe The Olive Garden Can't Handle My Bad Week

Since I lunched at Sweet Tomatoes and spilled a cup of chili all over my arm and then knocked it out of my hand to spill all over the floor. I also accidentally let a little cup of butter fly across the bread area. Luckily it did not land on anyone. Maybe tonight's dinner will be awkward due to my knocking the endless salad on the birthday girl, and not because of a fighting couple.

Of Course

There was no other way this week could end. Beyond the files threatening to overtake my desk, and the fact that I forgot to brush my hair or wear deodorant today, the real fun was the last meeting I attended. Someone said (more than once) "I have a bite on my arm, and it itches really bad." Everyone looked at the bites (there were a few on the arms and legs) and then I heard, "I don't think those are bug bites, I think that is Chicken Pox." I couldn't have said it better. And I would just like to say welcome back Disease Of The Week. You have been sorely missed.

Tomorrow I will be attending a birthday dinner that may go great, or may be the most awkward mean the Olive Garden has ever witnessed. After facing down this work week I am no longer worried. But I do need to go wrap my gift. Good night all.

Best Week Ever

I wish I could say that Tuesday and Wednesday have been any better, but it appears that this is not my week. Tuesday morning began when I drove away with out my purse or my brief case. Luckily I had my cell phone to call and say I would be late (you know in case they thought I may have taken off for Mexico). I then proceeded to spill an entire cup of chocolate milk all over my car. Did I mention I have no kids or pets to blame this on? I was a good 30 minutes late to work but at least I had a new cup of milk (which was of course my concern). My day ended by being yelled at by a client for 30 minutes who then left smiling saying he got everything he wanted. Fantastic.

The highlight of today was when I was told I had a spider on my pants. I jumped up, yelled and beat my pants. I then sat back down and went right back to talking about good ways to be mad. I think I might have said, "I'm sorry but spiders really scare me." The person (who looked a little freaked) said in a quiet voice, "It was just a baby spider." That of course makes no difference to me.

So far this week I have also forgotten to brush my teeth before going to work (luckily I have a spare tooth brush in my office), and of course I forgot to brush my hair. No not only am I jumping around beating my pant legs like I am the village idiot, but I also have frizzy hair and gross teeth as well. Sweet. Very excited to get to Friday.

Waking Up On Monday Always Gets Me Down

I don't understand why every Sunday night my body acts like I'm two and fights sleep. I laid in bed for hours last night trying to fall asleep, and then once I did I woke up every hour. I walked into work today looking like someone punched both my eyes. Mondays suck it hard. It's become my pretend-to-care day. Next year I want a job that has Mondays off. I also want a job that pays me slightly more than I am child labor worker in a third world country, so we'll see.

In other news, my weekend was pretty laid back. I read a lot and watched The Prestige. This was a fun movie to watch because I always had a secret desire to be a magician. I knew this dream would never be realized because I do not have nimble fingers, I am a klutz, and I can't keep a secret to save my life. For these very same reasons I could also never be a cat burglar (which I also really wanted to do). My goal was to steal from the mean rich people and open a homeless shelter or a Montessori school for families who couldn't afford to pay. And of course be known as the coolest cat burglar ever.

Last but not least, my g-ma's party was a smash as far as family parties go. No one left mad, or depressed, or crying (except for the colicky baby), and my g-ma seemed to have a nice time. My brother and his brood showed up and he was pretty OK for most of it. Low Rider and Speed Racer are getting big, they just celebrated their 2 month b-day. It was to fun to interact with them. Well at least to interact with the non-crying baby (I am not sure who wasn't crying though, I still can't tell them apart).

The funny part of the night came when my uncle brought in the cake. You know how people can now have cakes with photo frosting on it? Well my uncle don't pay no mind to that new fangaled stuff,and just put real pictures on the cake. I never did find out who ended up with a picture (I got a frosting rose which was all I cared about).

Happy Birthday G-Ma!

My grandma has never read this blog, or used a computer, but tomorrow she turns 70 (she shares a b-day with Hitler in case anyone was wondering). All week long she has been on my mind.

She was born the oldest female of 7 kids. Her family was poor Southern folk, and her mother was addicted to drugs and mentally ill in a time when neither was discussed openly. She began working when she was a child, as a field worker for many different types of produce. To this day she will not eat figs because of a summer she worked in a fig packing house. She was in two major car accidents when she was young, and in one she lost a kidney. One accident happened the day she dyed her hair blonde and to this day when someone says "Blondes have more fun" she will laugh and then tell her story.

She got pregnant with my mother in high school and was forced to drop out of the 10th grade and marry her baby's daddy. She had 3 children with him, and eventually they divorced. I never met this man, and consider the man she remarried to be my grandfather. Throughout her life she worked hard, sometimes working for 16 hours a day. When she married my grandpa she was able to stop working and focus on her teenage children. With 3 teenagers in the house I bet there were days she wished she was back at work.

She is addicted to coffee and soap operas (her "stories") and as a baby she would give me coffee in my bottle and we would watch Guiding Light and As The World Turns.

She is an amazing cook and we always made great dishes when I went to visit her. Unfortunately the gene for great cooking was not passed down to me. I can remember being 4 or 5 years old and helping her make meatballs. Watching her put eggs, milk and meat together made me sick and I had to go lie down. It would be 23 years before I could make a meatball without feeling sick and she was the first person I called when I did it.

When I was 12 she got sick and divorced my grandpa. She moved in with my mom, and they have lived together for the last 17 years. Now being around them is a little like watching an episode of Golden Girls. When I was younger I liked having her in my home all the time. I mean, c'mon she makes cheesecake and tortes. As a teenager it was a drag because she was a light sleeper and she slept in the living room. I was never able to sneak out of the house.

Since getting sick all those years ago she has slowly become homebound. Now she will only travel to the grocery store, the drug store, or Walmart if she can get there at 6am. My greatest wish for her has always been better health. She is still addicted to coffee and soaps and I love talking to her about who Brooke and Ridge are seeing (The Bold And The Beautiful for those of you not in the know).

She loves cooking shows and the gardening channel but she mostly watches show on mute. I have never understood this, and it bugs me to death not to know what is happening when I visit, but I know she likes it.

She is also sure I am in a chronic state of starvation due to my student status, so every time I visit her she had a grocery bag full of rice, oatmeal, and eggs and top ramen. She makes care packages for her neighbors with things like pickles and jarred artichokes. She went through a phase of cooking weird dishes (like meatloaf that had whole hard boiled eggs in it) when I was in highschool. And about a year ago she made the now infamous Mayo Casserole (even a year later I feel sick thinking about it). You never know what you'll get with grandma, but her desserts still rock.

We are having a party for her tomorrow and I know it will piss her off because she hates being the center of attention. Happy B-day grandma.

Does This Tam Make My Head Look Big?

One of the perks of graduating with a doctorate is that I get to wear the poofy robes (the ones the faculty wear) and the poofy eight sided cap (which is called a tam). Well my tam was delivered tonight, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't sitting here in my pajama's wearing my tam as I blog. I think it makes my blog more dignified.

Linguine with Red Claw Sauce

Not sure what this is? Neither am I, but a contestant shouted it out on my favorite spelling show. Another dinner laugh brought to me by the folks at Wheel of Fortune.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

Some days lend themselves to reflection. For me it has been a weekend of reflecting on my life, specifically my friends. Every night this weekend I have spent time with friends. Whether it was laughing over dinner with high school friends, experiencing a disturbing movie with grad school friends, meeting old work friends for sushi, or eating cookies with the girl who was my first best friend, there was lot of reminiscing.

As I was driving home from visiting with a friend whom I spent every weekend of junior high with, I realized how nice it was to have a friend whom I have not seen in 5 years, but yet we instantly began talking to like only 5 days had passed. I have always been a person who has a few close friends and many acquaintances, and at times my circle can seem small. Even when time and distance get in the way, I am lucky to have people who can easily fall back into our relationship. I used to feel like there was a problem with me because I am not more extroverted, but now I am content. I treasure my circle, and all the people who make it up. Driving home tonight I realized how blessed I am.

Gulp

Have I ever mentioned I am a wimp? I hate spiders and pretty much anything creepy-crawly. I am also a big ol' scardy cat when it comes to pretty much any scary/gory movie. I even flinch during action movies. That being said, I am a member of the Libertine's. We are three sometimes four (stupid) people committed to watching uncomfortable movies together. It all began when I innocently asked my friends to go see the Libertine. I thought it was like Dangerous Liaisons. I was wrong. So very wrong. So now when a gross/freaky movie comes out I get a call to go see it. And I do. I guess I think it makes it better if I see it with the group (stupid).

The phone call came tonight to see Grindhouse. I believe the exact message was "Libertines uniting for the double feature." And I went. I basically spent 10 dollars to keep my head turned or my eyes closed for 3 hours. The first movie traumatized me so badly I was in a hypervigilant state for the second movie and even when things were calm I was flinching and looking away, because I was sure any minute heads were be blown away or people would be eaten. We all walked out of that movie a little shell shocked, and it will be a long time before I willingly enter a hospital or a bbq shack.

I am going to go read a very light romance novel now and pray that the images of melting penis' and zombies leave my mind. I think I will be also sleeping with the lights on tonight. And by that I mean every light in my house. Like I said I am a wimp.

How to save a life...

According to a radio station I listen to, men who looked at women's breasts for 10 minutes a day had less heart disease, lower blood pressure, and lower pulse than men who didn't. Researchers said this is as good as spending 30 minutes at the gym. They even went so far as to say that it cut the risk of stroke and heart attack in half. This factoid supposedly came from the New England Journal of Medicine. So when men look at mine I'm saving lives. Good to know.

Perils of Blogging

Yesterday I read the Queen of Spain's post that linked to article about blogging and the public who reads them. At the end of the day one of my best friends called me to say that her family has found her blog (she does not get along with her family). Even though she did not use names they threatened to call the police (using slander as the reason). I think for the most part her drama is calmed down, but we talked about how hard it can be when you blog about family and friends and have the blog under your real name. But it did make me wonder how my brother or my mother would react if they read mine, since I have posted some of our more colorful experiences?

Take two naps and call me in the morning

Turns out I had neither pneumonia nor valley fever. I was just tired and stressed. Have I mentioned I am a hypochondriac?

My Easter Sunday was spent watching the Master's Golf game with my dad, who fell asleep but would magically wake up if I reached for the remote control. Then I went to my mothers for dinner, and laughed as she and my grandma would yell at each other from various parts of the house (and they have a very small house).
One conversation went like this:
Mom: were you calling me?
G-ma: what?
Mom: were you calling me?
G-ma: what?
Mom: I said were you calling me?!?
G-ma: No. I was calling you. Your phone rang.
Mom: What? (and then it began again. I am trying to figure out how to tell my mom she needs to be checked for a hearing aid).

My brother decided to come into town with his brood. They stayed at my father's house and decided to have their Easter festivities at 7am. Needless to say I missed the egg hunt. Considering there was only one child participating I don't think I missed much.

Holiday Illness has struck again

I feel achey and tired and not at all hungry. So basically I am sick and will spend my Friday off tomorrow in the doctors office. So far this week I been around people who have colds, the flu, pnuemonia and valley fever. It is a banner week for sickness. Thanks Easter Bunny, you rock!

Reasons why I am a dork (and proud of it)

*I competed in Academic Decathlon in High School and won 6 awards (including overall best in my grade section). I still have the medals somewhere.

*My first concert ever was Milli Vanilli and I was heart broken when it came out they were fakes ("Blame it on the Rain" still makes me feel nostalgic- and it makes me want to do that sideways foot dance they did so well).

*I used to watch Jeopardy with my friends in college and keep track of how much we won or lost. And I was pissed if I didn't win.

*I have waited in line at midnight to watch/buy Harry Potter products (and no I was not dressed like a wizard- but I did dress up like Professor McGonagall for Halloween one year).

*I am going to see Josh Groban tonight in concert and I am very excited. I am a major fan (though I hesitate to call myself a Grobanite). Many of you might think this is not so dorky---I am going with my father (who is also excited to see Josh Groban).

*To work today I wore a black sweater and black pants ( and pearls) with neon colored socks and white and blue walking shoes. I blamed the shoes on my foot, but I know I would wear this combo any day of the week.

More to come. Must go prepare for the concert...What makes you a dork?

Some fun things I learned this weekend


Mapquest hates me. Instead of sending me to Macy's in another town, I ended up at the county jail. Then I traveled to the local college. The staff of Macy's eagerly helped when I finally decided to chuck the mapquest directions out the window. And they didn't call me an idiot for calling back 3 times to confirm I was going the right way (at least not to my face but I'm sure they laughed like hell when I hung up the phone).

Apparently the way to win the war in Iraq is to air drop copies of Penthouse and Playboy into Iraq ("to liberate the oppressed Muslims"). This gem came from this really obnoxious guy I met on Saturday. I also learned that you look like an a-hole when you spend dinner talking about how much money you have then short change the dinner bill (I think he made his money stiffing dinner bills). Sadly I also learned that someone actually married him. Sorry ladies, he's taken.

I think my dad is sending me to Ireland as a graduation present. I am still stunned. He also agreed to have a dinner at his house for 60 people (in honor of my graduation). My father hasn't had anyone over for dinner since 1988 (I remember because there was a presidential election occurring and we watched a news program about it). I think I am more surprised by the dinner than by the trip.

Never tell a 3 year old that the toy you are giving him is not the same as the one he just took a part but it is still cool. The child will freak, his mommy will look at you like you have 2 heads, then try to undo your damage. Sorry Supermommy.

When you give the boy a 3rd toy, really talk up how cool it is and that it is bigger, and better than anything else he has ever seen. He won't believe you, but he may not complain.

Monday Recap

I was planning on posting about my weekend-like trying to drive to a Macy's out of town and ending up at a county jail (damn you mapquest), but then I decided to be healthy today and take a walk at work. I ended up twisting my ankle and slamming my foot into a sprinkler. The top of my foot is swollen and totally bruised. The moral of my story is being healthy sucks.

My parents think I'm gay. Thanks CBS.

I just got this in an email at work:

The following complaint was sent to the Federal Communications Commission regarding Prince’s performance at this year’s half-time show at the Super Bowl.

“It was obscene to show Prince, a homosexual person, through a sheet (so) as to show his silhouette while his guitar showed a very phallic symbol coming from below his midriff section. I am very offended and would prefer not to have showed it to my four children who love football. One of them has hoped to be a quarterback, and now he will turn out to be gay. I am actually considering to check him for HIV. Thanks, CBS, for turning my son gay.”

This is so stupid I don't even know what else to say.

Exciting news...at least in my world

The first is that my best friend may be coming to my graduation. She lives across the country and since she has kids, I usually travel to see her. She hasn't been back to to my neck of the woods since 1995. The sad thing is not much has changed.


The second exciting thing is that I may be going to Ireland for New Years. Some friends of mine are planning a trip and asked me if I wanted to come. Hell yeah I do! How cool would it be to count down to New Years in an Irish pub?!? I would even be okay drinking warm beer if it was served up with an Irish accent.

Those are my wonderful possibilities for today.

The Perils of Bargain Shopping

I am at times a cheapskate. I hate paying full price for things (except books) and love to find a deal. When I need to, say a day before an event or if I am out of socks, then I will drop the money and not be bothered. I bring this up because my desire to wait for things to go on sale has bitten me in the ass majorly.

I found a dress at Macy's a few weeks ago that would be perfect for this wedding I have to go to and for my upcoming graduation. The fit was nice, I liked the style, it was black. It looked retroish had pockets, and it didn't make me look like I have cankles. Everything was perfect but the price. Could I really spend over $100 on a dress I would in all likelihood wear twice? I thought no. I would go back to Macy's in a few weeks and grab it on sale. The perfect plan except...

Women all over found this dress to be a god-send and bought it. Not only is it sold out in my town's store, but it is sold out nation wide. Did I mention that the designer only sells to Macy's? What the hell am I going to do now? Hopefully I can find something almost as good (that doesn't make me look like I have cankles). Crap on a stick. I hate dress shopping.

My wild and crazy weekend

Friday morning I woke up at 3:50am to begin my journey to Seattle. I was heading to WA for a bachelorette party for my best friend in college. I haven't seen her in 4 years (we talk all the time) so I was excited. What I wasn't excited about was waking up at 3:50am to make a 6:30am flight. Another not fun thing is that I live in a small town so getting to Seattle involved 4 hours of traveling (when it really should have been about an hour and a half). I got to my airport in plenty of time and read a fun book til my plane took off. The plane trips were uneventful and I managed to read even more of the book.

I got into Sea-Tac at 10:30 and met my friend's fiancee and her sister. We then went and bought all the alcohol for the weekend and a Playgirl (that was used in a game for the bachelorette.) I was disappointed by the Playgirl (I hadn't seen one since I was 12 and was traumatized at the thought of adult men and their things hanging out). This month edition had 2 pictures of men over 70 and one of a man in a dress (as well as the other typical spreads of men cupping themselves). I also had the pleasure of purchasing it from a older male employee of Barnes and Noble.

Weird WA fact: you can't buy hard alcohol at a grocery store- you have to go to a gov't owned liquor store.

We then picked people up from the airport and from work. I was told that it drizzles in Seattle and Olympia, but no hard rain. I was told a lie. The entire weekend (except for 1am Saturday night) was a downpour. I was not properly attired for a downpour, but luckily my makeup was not badly ruined (which was important to me). My hair on the other hand, ended up looking like Monica's (from Friends) when they went to the Bahama's or Jamaica.

Friday night we went to this pub for drinks and dinner. The waitress was bizarre and when I ordered a drink that was listed on the menu she was confused. And the bartender was confused, and she was giving me a weird smile when she brought it over (note to self- stick with cranberry vodkas). She then watched me eagerly as I took the first drink (I think the bartender watched too, hidden from my view). She then told me it was the first time anyone ordered it (again it was a restaurant special).

After dinner we went barhopping around Olympia. Olympia is a lot like the town I went to college in and at one point I leaned over to my friend and said "You could move this bar and all the people to our town and no one would look out of place." It has this very hippy, naturey feel. And I was totally bombarded by memories of college. Unfortunately I didn't turn 21 until I was a senior so my bar memories are sadly lacking.

I, being the ball of fun I am, fell asleep on the ride home that night (it was about 12am). It might have also been the benedryl i had to take because my friend has a cat and I have allergies to them. My friend has two pets. A pug with "special needs" who has uncontrollable pee and poop, and a cat who will slap your face to get your attention.

The next morning we woke up fairly late and then went to a wine tasting. The wine sucked but the company was full bodied and rich in laughter (we also have great legs-that's it for the sad wine comparisons).

We then made our way to Seattle and thus began the bachelorette party. We played drinking games and laughed at inappropriate gifts. And people compared significant other stories. I was of course quiet during this time. But at least I was drinking my sorrows.

By about 11pm we got ready to go bar hopping again. I realized when we hit the first bar that I am old. I have never been a fan of the meat market bars, but I now really feel out of place in them. I guess that's a good thing at least I'll never be a 40 year old hanging out in the college bars.

The next bar was better, for me anyways. It was a hang out place and we were able to talk and compare wedding horror stories (did I mention I was the only one not married at the party-once again the last single gal I know).

We crawled back into the hotel after 2am and I made my way to my cot (which had straps-what freaky sort of people used these cots?) I woke up the next morning and was not only slightly hung over but late to meet the airport shuttle. Damn and double damn. I ended up barely making it to my plane and then having a layover at my next stop. At one point an older gentleman pulled one of the flight staff aside and said "Sir why is the flight late?" The flight staff said in this snooty french accent, "I have told you 3 times now and I will get back on the intercom and say it again." He then got on the intercom and said "The flight is still delayed. We are having mechanical problems." That is not what you say to people about to board a plane the size of a matchstick box. I was convinced we were going to die the entire flight. Luckily we made it in OK.

So now I am back in my home. Missing my friend and even the colder weather of WA. The wedding is in about 2 months and I have only have 7 words: Catholic wedding, giant rosary, and taco bar.

It should be a lot of fun. I am on the hunt for a date to the wedding. Right now I am trying to convince my best male friends that they really wants to attend this with me. I don't think they're buying it, but I am hoping the desire to help people will sway them.

My office, the fort

The company I work for is in the process of moving. All around my computer are empty boxes waiting to be filled a ton of paperwork. It totally reminds me of being a kid and wanting my desk at school to have a wall around it so no one could tell I wasn't paying attention. Now I have a fort that keeps people from seeing me blog at work. Cool beans.

Why she is my oldest friend

Besides the fact that her family is hilarious and she tells me great stories about her crazy patients, she also sends me text messages like this:

Just thought you'd like to know that Big Bird is cooking Huevos Racheros right now. Am I the only one who is deeply troubled by this? I mean, I know he's not a girl bird, but still... YUCK!

And hats off to PBS for makng Big Bird a cannibal.

What makes therapists take notes? Tell them you had awkward dream sex. It worked for me.

In therapy I was talking about my family drama this weekend, and my therapist asked if I have ever heard of this theory on relationships (I forget the name). The gist is that the person you choose to partner with is a model of your most dysfunctional parent relationship (aka MOM). WTH?!? Like my social life wasn't dead already, there is no way in hell I am going to go search out that. Apparently the first step to avoid this is to be aware of who I am attracting (and here I thought it was only homeless men over 50, but really it's homeless men over 50 with major mental illness. Sweet). I am hoping this is a 12 step program, or maybe something like The Secret (that creepy book The O touts) in that now that I know, I can avoid. If not, then I will learn to be okay with being alone.

I then brought up my sex dream, and my therapist started writing furiously. I asked if this was foreshadowing, but she thinks it means that I am too closed off to intimate relationships. Or at least that's what I think she meant, midway through her explanation she told me time was up (I had a dinner to go to and I couldn't be late), but that we would talk more next week. Fantastic.

My dinner was fabulous. I got to see my oldest friend (we met in kindergarten). First she in the WW like me and is losing weight slow like me too. Then I found out I have actually lost more than her (by only like 5 pounds, but she lives in the land of fried foods so she gets a pass in my book). She is a doctor in the South, and we compared horror stories of our family and our work. Both our families are crazy and we both see addicts (she see crack addicted delivering mothers and I see the DEI). Her patient stories were funny and a little sad. Like the woman who got high on crack by putting it in her va jay-jay-so as not to be busted by the cops (she forgot to put it in the baggie first). Did I mention she was pregnant? But she now thinks my friend is the bees knees and seeks her out for all her pregnancy needs. And my friend is slightly scared of her because she is a major drug dealer and could have her killed so she sees her. It's a nice relationship.

The party, the dinners, and the awkward dream sex: must be another weekend recap


Lets begin with the party. Someone did try to pinch me (which wasn't even on St. Pat's). Lucky for me, I was wearing a green jade bracelet, but I told the girl if she pinched me I would cut her (I tried to sound mean too). Overall the party was fun. I got one drunk hug, played silly break the ice games, and laughed as a friend of mine got a drunk back rub (by the same person who drunk hugged me. It made my hug look tame).

On Saturday I went to a depth psychology discussion group. If you don't know what that is, don't worry neither do I. I went to support my friends and learn something new. It was all mostly over my head, and what I learned is how little I know about things.

I then tried to avoid dinner with my brother so I went shopping. I bought 2 new shirts (I wore one today and got a compliment), and window shopped for a wedding present.

Finally I had to go visit the fam. Dinner was OK (mostly because I stayed as far away from my brother as I could). The person sitting next to me leaned over and told me that my brother was intense. Then she said, "did you see him order dinner for his girlfriend and tell her what appetizers she could eat (none in case you wondered)." I didn't actually see that but it didn't surprise me. He also told my dad he was going to get diabetes from eating a dinner roll, and tried to tell him how to spend his money in general. I had a headache leaving dinner that night. But I did laugh at the impression my brother makes on people. I was reminded of Thanksgiving about 2 years ago. A friend of mine came for dinner and my brother had recently gotten out of prison. About midway through the meal she leaned over and asked me, "Who is the man that looks like he wants to stab me?" Sure enough, I looked up and my bro did look like he wanted to stab her. Needless to say most of my friends stay away from him.

On Sunday I had to go to my aunt's house for a BBQ in honor of bro and his babies. This time it was my mom's family drama. It was OK, but my mother kept getting mad at my brother (I don't really know why), and then she got mad at me for complimenting her hair (apparently she hates the cut). I spent lots of time in the kitchen cleaning.

If my weekend wasn't fun enough I had a dream last night in which I was having sex with a good friend of mine. The sad part was it was uncomfortable, awkward sex. And it was a dream that feels like it really happened so I woke up feeling sad about having awkward sex. I hope this dream isn't foreshadowing of my social life to come.

Pinch This

The St. Paddy's party is starting early this year. I have to attend a work party tonight,and there has been talk of pinching if you're not wearing green. I think I might have to break some fingers. The potential pincher is also the person who got hammered at the last party and told a coworker he wanted to lick her eyelids (and told me I was, "pretty in a weird way").

As if one party isn't enough, my brother and his family are coming into town, so that everyone may pay tribute to the babies. I will be attending a family BBQ in their honor on Sunday. This is definitely the weekend to have a drink.

Ewwwww


Tuesday night I watched Prime Time. They have been running episodes about people who live outside of the norm. The episode this week was on the porn stars and they followed two women. One whose parents basically cut her off, and one whose parents were her managers. The manager parents were really creepy. First off they said that they were proud when their daughter became a prostitute (she was a stripper first, and yes her parents watched her perform,then she became a prostitute for a year, and then a porn star) because she was fed by a chef everyday, had a maid, and was tested regularly. WTF?!? These were not poverty stricken people, but middle class America.

The father then went on to say that he was glad his daughter was a porn star because at least she was not out getting her heart broken. I have heard a lot of different reasons that parents might be okay with having a child in the porn industry or even a prostitute, but to say it keeps them from forming intimate relationships (and that is a good thing) is really sad. Oh, and the parents watch all their daughter's movies. Again with the ewwww. There was no mention by these parents about the toll this lifestyle takes on thier daughter; the only thing talked about was, "if you've got it, flaunt it." and how cool is it that she makes a lot of money doing porn.

The reporter asked the daughter if she thought of her parents as her pimps. To which she replied, "absolutely not, in fact if anything I pay them, you know, to keep me safe and for all they do." Yeah, that's not like a pimp at all.

Daylight Savings is Kicking My Ass

Last night I forgot to set my alarm before bed and today I woke up an hour late. Damn you daylight savings. I do feel somewhat lucky after hearing from Supermommy. She reported that her son has been waking up even earlier than normal (I believe her term was the butt crack of dawn), and he is telling her Happy Valentines Day! when he wakes her up. She told me that's what she gets for doing crafts with him.

My Top Option for Worst Case Scenarios

Sometimes it's hard to be professional. I was helping a fellow student with his dissertation on Friday and I had to take a test of cognitive functioning. First off, I told him that if the test showed I had low intelligence I do not want to know. He agreed but said he would probably avoid me if my score was really low. Nice.

So this test had math, memorizing (which I sucked at), and reasoning and judgement. It was in the reasoning and judgement that I shined. One question asked what I would do if I was stranded somewhere with only a dollar on me. I said I would go find a security officer because obviously I have been mugged, then if I needed money I guess I would have to hook a little. At the end of the test he said I was the first to ever use hooking at an option. I told him it was always an option as a worst case scenario. People who travel with me know that my rule is if we are ever lost and someone needs to hook for directions, I am automatically out (as the driver/owner of the car). I have found it's best is to travel with 2 men: one gay and one straight, that way all my hooking bases are covered. As of yet, I have not had to put my plan into action, but it's there none the less.

I have more to talk about from my weekend. But today I have a migraine. I am blaming the time change. I really hate the time change. Until my body is adjusted (give or take about a week) the time change will be responsible for all all the evils in my world such as; my milk going bad yesterday morning, the laundry not getting gone, my migraine, and the rise of gas prices.

Captain Fritzy Tamera: Pirate Extraordinaire

Last night I attended my first pirate birthday party. It was Supermommy's little boy's third birthday and it was so much fun. We all got pirate names (based on our first pet and the first street I lived on-which also works for finding your porn star name). We also had treasure chest cake (no Lent for me last night), and "rum and coke" (aka Roy rogers). My pirate duties included holding babies, getting hit with a ball repeatedly (a little boy thought we were playing a game of dodge ball, and according to him I suck), being very excited by all the pirate's "booty", and playing with flurp (this silly putty that makes farting sounds- this was the funniest gift the birthday boy got). My big job of the night was to take pictures of the birthday boy blowing out the candles to his treasure chest cake. I tried to get some shots of him while everyone was singing, and then when it was time for the money shot, he coughed all over the cake. I think I took maybe one picture after that, but I was laughing too hard to know for sure. Supermommy really knows her little pirate, because she made cupcakes that were off to the side and not hacked upon.

Speaking of little ones, I went on more preschool observations yesterday and met a really grumpy preschool teacher (which made me really sad for the kids) and a slightly off preschool teacher. The first preschool (with Ms. Grumpmeister) was the exact opposite of the preschool I was at last week. None of the kids ever even acknowledged I was in their room, and I was sitting very close to a group of them playing with Dora toys. One of the kids looked like something out of Children of the Corn, which was slightly disturbing. The teacher also seemed upset that the kids were playing well telling me, "They are never this good." Nice.

At the second preschool I walk in and met my new best friend. This teacher wanted to show me all the wonderful things she does in her classroom, which included making the kids say the Pledge of Allegiance, and that they are proud to be American every morning (twice that day for me). That creeped the heck out of me. Mrs. Patriotic told me that for Christmas (because for proud Americans there is no other holiday) she made all the parents a dvd of their child saying the pledge. Not a video of them playing and having fun, but of them saying they are proud to be an American. I know she totally dubbed crazy pro-America music on it, and had a flag waving gently in the background (and maybe fireworks).

She wanted to show me how much fun they have playing outside. All the kids did was run around (it did seem like they were having fun), but the scary thing was one kid was not playing with the group and this teacher never once went to find him. Just let him play unsupervised for at least 15 minutes (this child also looked like he was a Child of the Corn, which I thought was odd to see more than one in a day). I also got to watch the kids play duck duck goose, which was hilarious part of my day because they were too young to fully get the concept, so it was just kids running in a circle screaming "Goose!"

Update On My Dishwasher Nightmare

At work today as I am telling everyone about the dishwasher from hell, they are all nodding and agreeing that dishwashers catch on fire! We even got talking about irons and clothes dryers (which I have always known were scary agents of destruction). I was shocked that I never knew my seemingly harmless appliance was also a death monger. I knew I should have taken better notes in home EC. Would anyone else like to share their appliance nightmares? And please don't limit it to dishwashers, lets see what else I can become scared of.

I'm No Domestic Goddess, But I've Got a Kick Ass Guardian Angel

So tonight I realized the weird smell in the dishwasher was a wooden spoon that got stuck to something on the bottom. Apparently, things got really hot because the spoon was burned black in places. Thanks be it didn't catch on fire. I really don't want to be the person who dies because of improper utensil placement. Although I bet at least one of my friends would say in the eulogy, "She always said she couldn't load a dishwasher." I once thought the dishwasher was the safest appliance in my house. Now it scares me like a mirrored closet. Or one of those dolls you put in a corner. Shuddering.

Latent Psychosis

Every once in a while I go to a movie and it reminds me of my own life, and not in a I'm married to the hunky guy and have the perfect kids kind of a way. No, it's usually the dramas or the psychological thrillers that make me think of, oh I don't know, my brother. Take for example the movie, The Number 23. I went with a friend to see this movie this weekend and it totally reminded me of my brother. Sigh. It is a great movie, and it does a fantastic job of showing the decent into psychosis. And it has this neat ending (which I am trying very hard not to spoil for everyone). But the manner in which the main character becomes crazy about the number 23 is how my brother is with the number 7. I really need to stop seeing movies that remind me of my family. I go to the movies to escape for a while, not to have it thrown back in my face. I think the next movie I want to see is Reno 911: Miami, that can't possibly remind me of anyone I know. Right?

And The Winner Is...

There has been an unofficial contest going on this week since the birth of my nephews. Since their middle names are Racer and Ryder it has been a challenge for my office mates, and friends to top the ridiculousness. So far I have heard:

Ranger and Rover
Motor cross and Quad (I was calling them this, especially before they were born and I couldn't remember what their first names would be).
Driver and Biker
And pretty much any variation of these things.

So my best friend called me last night and the first thing she asked me was, "How are Low Rider and Speed Racer doing?" And I couldn't stop laughing. So those are the new nick names. And in case you are wondering they are fine as far as I know. Supposedly they are coming to town, but I am trying to make myself scarce from this blessed event. Last week filled my family quota for the month.

Because I Didn't Expect The Spanish Inquisition

So today I had to do a preschool observation. I went when they were outside playing. I walked over to where they had different stations set up. Two little girls approached me (at one time there were like 7 or 8 kids around me though). And apparently they were active members of the Inquisition Reenactment Society. And so began the questioning.

"Why are you here?"
To watch kids playing.
"Why?"
Because that is my job.
"Why do got a purse?"
Because I keep my stuff in it.
"Why do you got a notepad?
To makes notes of kids playing. If you go play I could write something about you.
"Can I read it?"
No.
"Why not?"
Because you're not a grownup.
"Where is your mommy?"
She lives in another town.
"What's her name?"
Emily.
"Where's your daddy?"
He lives in another town too.
"What's his name?"
Murphy. Why don't you go play so I can write about you.
"Where's your kids?"
I don't have any kids.
"Why not?"
Because I don't yet.
"Are you sure she's not your girl (pointing to the girl with the purple flower pants who was standing by me pointing
out the flowers)."
She is not my daughter. I bet she has a great mommy. Time to go play now.
"Can I look in your purse?"
No. (I realized a second later my purse was open on the ground. I was tying a shoe). Get out of my purse please. Thank you.
"Do you want to see: my doll/hair/purple flower shirt and pants/ rocks/ninja moves/ me doing cartwheels/ princess t-shirt/see how fast I can run/ a branch I picked up off the ground/my purple flower pants (this girl came back twice to show me the wonder that is her clothes)/me pretend I am a horse/ me on the slide/my friends?"
Sure. That was: pretty/neat/cool/wow, good cartwheel/pretty shirt you look like a princess too/you're a fast runner/why don't you put the branch down before someone gets hurt/again your clothes are pretty/nice horse/don't slide down that way please.
"Did you know my daddy doesn't live with me anymore? He spends the night with his new friend."
I didn't know that. Do you want to show me a cart wheel again?
"No I can't I fell, so now all I can do is walk (sad face). Hey kid, you need to walk with me. But all we can is walk because I fell."
Me laughing at ninja kid. Don't worry he later recovered and later showed me his ninja-riding-a-horse moves.
"Did you know I liked Power Rangers?"
I did not know that. I bet they're cool. Have fun on the slide.

I also broke up several fights, tied one shoe, received 3 hugs (all by the same kid) and was told I couldn't enter the painting area because I wasn't wearing red (the teacher was letting the kids with red go first).

I was only there for 45 minutes and yet it felt longer. I think the main inquisitor (she was also the hugger) has a future job as an interrogator.

I also got to do hours of paperwork and saw clients. One of whom is a talker. Needless to say it was a long, kind of funny day.

Lunch was also fun. I went out with a supervisor and found out she likes to read romance novels too. And for the same reason I like to read them (and if you are thinking the sex scenes you would be wrong. Very wrong). She is trying to get them up for Lent. And I thought giving up sweets was hard, butI could never give books up. I told her so too. And we also talked shop (lest you think we were simply slacking off talking about Nora Robers for 2 hours).

So I leave you with something else that made me smile today. A newly wedded couple chose to dance their first dance doing the last dance from Dirty Dancing. I had all my co-workers watching this. And since I have no dance skills I was uber jealous.

I have an all day training tomorrow, and I'd like to believe it won't bore me out of my mind, so that by the end I wish I had a melon baller to carve my own eyes out, but I don't have a lot of hope.

"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.

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.

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 Should Be Fun

Tomorrow I am on my way to visit my brother and his babies. I am sure many stories will come from this trip. The least of which will be driving my mother home. Wish me luck. I am sure I will need it.

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.

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 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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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.