Thursday, July 31, 2003 :::
::Just One Look
When the little apple on the cover lights up does it mean my laptop feels the same way about me as I do about it?
Because I think it loves me. I really do. Which is good because my husband no longer loves me.
::: posted by Melissa at 2:34 PM
Wednesday, July 30, 2003 :::
::Cooking's Not For Everyone
My very favorite cooking stories involve two hapless husbands (who will remain nameless to protect them from public humiliation).
The first husband was cooking a dinner and the recipe read, 'Reduce sauce by one half.'
He proceeded to pour one half of the sauce down the drain.
The second husband attempted to cook dinner for his family and read in the first step: 'Brown the ground beef'
He left the beef on the counter until it turned brown.
'Mad Cow' Tacos Anyone? Ole!
::: posted by Melissa at 3:16 PM
Tuesday, July 29, 2003 :::
I call my bedside table my "Table Of Dreams"
In the past I've had "Taking Charge Of Your Fertility" on that table....dreaming I'd get pregnant.
I've had an entire library of books about children sleeping through the night on the Table Of Dreams. I'd read them at night when my son was a baby. I'd read them and fantasize about what it would be like to sleep...uninterrupted. It was my own version of pornography.
I've had 'Raising Your Spirited Child' on my nightstand, and at that time I dreamed of having a normal child who reacted in a normal way to new situations. Then I realized I don't react well to new situations so she probably never would either.
Right now I have a couple of books on my Table Of Dreams and they represent what I currently wish for. The first is 'Toxic In Laws'. It's all highlighted and dog eared with notes in the margin and I dream of the day I can tolerate those people again...at least so my kids can spend time with them (and so The Guy and I can go away together more often). Purely selfish really, since I haven't been happier since setting them free.
The one that represents a longtime never to be fullfilled dream is "The Family Manager's Everyday Survival Guide"
It's been on the Table of Dreams for nearly three and a half years now. It's highlighted and dog eared and as the book claims, there really are 2,323 tips for organizing my life. It says I can 'Outline Monthly and Seasonal Goals and Strategies', 'Develop your best management style', 'Apply simple survival techniques', 'Simplify finances and record keeping', 'Anticipate and plan for the big changes'. Plus, I can learn 'shortcuts for the kitchen, speed cleaning, smart shopping and hundreds of other ways to make every day easier and your life much happier"
WOW! In 285 pages...I could have an easier and happier life! I really thought to myself 'If it's in a book and it's all there in black and white, I can learn how to keep it all together.' I guess the thing is you can't just highlight everything in a really intense orange color and call it 'getting organized'. I even tried a very offensive green color to see if that helped. It didn't.
It turns out you also have to do things like go berry picking in August to make jams for holiday gift giving. I've got to host a yearly garage sale. I've also got to do crafts with my kids and vacuum my mattress once a month and I have to bargain shop with the sale flyers, clipping coupons and going to three markets to get everything on my list at the best price and I don't know, that just doesn't make me happy in the least!
I bring this up because a friend of mine is getting ready to enter the stay at home mother world from the working outside of the home mother world. While I'll admit crossing to the other side is always refreshing for a while, less stressful, more fullfilling. After awhile it all starts to look kind of the same. With the same kinds of stress and the same hectic pace and then you start to understand why it is that mothers all over the place, working or not, are all very tired and stretched too thin. Another dear friend once pointed out that staying at home with kids is like a marathon and you have to have stamina to do it all day every day and working outside of the home is more like a sprint where you are racing around to fit it all into the day. Both hard, just different.
But I can say a few positive things about staying at home:
*My bosses are tyrants but I love them more than anything in the world, I wouldn't say that about any of my really bad past bosses.
*That whole smell of sunscreen and chlorine is way better than a client's nasty cologne.
*I can stop a tantrum by tickling my kids, try doing that to a crabby and stressed out co worker.
*At least when the kids whine it's developmentally appropriate.
*I have the time to do the bare minimum so the house doesn't fall apart and I can still do really fun things with the kids a lot of the day.
*Four words: Party In A Bucket
I'll save the negatives for once my friend has had time to celebrate her new position as Stay At Home mother. Just three more days and she too will be 'Living The Dream'!
::: posted by Melissa at 4:08 PM
Monday, July 28, 2003 :::
::My Goldfish Is Pissed Off
We bought a little something to go in the fish bowl. It's a Sponge Bob. It's about 3 inches high. Not very big by my 66 inch standards, but let's just say for a moment you are a fish. You live in a bowl that holds about 4 cups of water.
I'd say having a 6 inch tall SpongeBob in the middle of your living room is a bit of a pain in the ass, if your living room is about 12 inches tall.
For demonstration purposes, let's say I have an equivalent SpongeBob in my living room. This SpongeBob would have to be (in order to give me the true goldfish experience) about 4.5 feet tall...set square in the center of my living room by forces beyond my control.
Yes, the goldfish are pissed off. If I die tonight, you'll know who to point fingers at. Though, you could point your finger at my husband, once he realizes I just ordered my iBook tonight.
Wish me luck....
::: posted by Melissa at 12:11 AM
Friday, July 25, 2003 :::
::Making Me Dizzy
Two things are currently making me dizzy.
I am attempting to withdraw from zoloft. I truly love zoloft with all my heart, but it's time we parted ways. It's been two and a half lovely years but he just keeps asking more and more of me. Or rather my insurance company keeps asking more and more from us. With the air conditioning settled in our house, I realize it's time to send my friend zoloft off on his merry way. To help other postpartum mothers....and those who are not postpartum, but feel like it.
The problem is the withdrawal is unpleasant every 3 days or so. As though my body suddenly realizes, 'Hey! You're not taking this shit away from us!' My brain turns all spongey, my eyes seem to be programmed on a slower speed than my head. Headaches and nausea follow.
The other thing that is making me dizzy is trying to buy a new home office set up for my family. My husband is pretending he doesn't know what I am doing. He's playing the innocent bystander, and I am frantically trying to figure out what the difference between dual processors or single boot systems is. I am trying to do all this before he steps in with his 'Franken-Mower' mentality and talks some sense into me.
Hopefully soon I will be finished with my final 10 mg of zoloft and I'll have a lightening fast computer of my very own. At that point I can take the $15 it was costing me for my friend zoloft and send that right into Apple. Credit is so very dangerous for a weak soul like myself.
His birthday is coming up very soon.....I picture the card looking a little like this.
"Happy Birthday Logan! I bought you this lovely G4 tower...and now I'm whoring myself out in the streets to pay the bill!" Do you suppose Hallmark makes a card for that?
::: posted by Melissa at 9:52 PM
Thursday, July 24, 2003 :::
::If I were a MayFly
A Mayfly's life looks like this (in simplified terms)
My last year (in brief biography looks like this):
"Cut it out."
"My ears need a rest"
"Maxwell Logan Summers!!!!"
Describe your year in 25 words or less. Damn I hope it's better than mine.
::: posted by Melissa at 11:04 PM
Wednesday, July 23, 2003 :::
::I Am Lazy
Would you like to hear about my attempt to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis? Of course you would.
Logan decided to do a bike ride for MS and since we were kind of newly dating, I thought to myself, 'Never mind the fact that I hate physical activity, never mind the fact I hate sweating, let's ride 150 miles in the heat of July. Better yet....let's not train for this ride at all, let's just hop on our bikes and ride!'
How romantic I was.
The moment I pulled out of the start line I knew I'd made a terrible mistake.
But wait it got worse.
A group of friends did this ride. There were 8 of us that first year. One of our team members was kind of overweight and to be honest my skinny, wimpy, hate to sweat self thought, 'If she can do it, so can I'
I thought that until a huge hill, a huge hill she and Logan were pedaling up whilst I watched in breathless amazement from the bottom. They were so enthralled with their conversation, they never noticed I WASN"T EVEN WITH THEM!!! No, I was at the bottom of the hill barely breathing, fighting my muscles for every rotation of my bike wheels.
And there was 'The Guy' and 'The Chubby Lady' LAUGHING IT UP! They were laughing....they were able to tell jokes and actually laugh at them. I couldn't hear anything but my beating heart and my lungs begging for mercy and they were LAUGHING!
It was at that point I got off my bike.
'The Guy' and 'Laughing Chubby Lady' didn't even notice.
It was then I hoisted my bike in a last act of strength and threw it over the side of a hill.
They stopped laughing. 'The Guy' thought to himself...'I am so fucked' and 'Chubby Lady With Far Superior Stamina' thought, 'How does one respond to such a display of raw emotion?'
'The Guy' came and retrieved my bike, 'Mother Superior Stamina' averted her eyes appropriately and the ASSHOLE with the siren (bringing up the rear of the tour) tried to encourage me. I wish I was kidding when I said I wanted to kill that man on the spot, but I really did want him to die with that stupid siren rammed up his ass.
Instead of killing him, I gave him a really mean and breathless look. 'The Guy' picked up my bike from the side of the hill I threw it over. I hopped on the 'Moron Who Didn't Train For The Ride and Who Hates To Sweat'-Van and rode into the final destination.
There I showered, rested, and greeted everyone with a well rested smile, beer in hand and a new found realization. I was born to be Julie, the cruise director. I was not meant to suffer on a bike, riding for endless miles, raising money for those who can not ride.
I am lazy.
My husband has gotten on his bike every year since that year I threw my bike over the side of the hill. Some people may say he rides to escape his bitch of a wife for a weekend. I beg to differ, he rides because....okay, he rides to get a weekend away. At least his weekend away doesn't cost money, but rather makes money for deserving souls.
::: posted by Melissa at 11:10 PM
Today a friend stopped by while the family and I were on the porch eating a really nasty dinner called 'Burrito Casserole' Something about this friend's visit made my children wind up and go in for the frantically talking kill. I almost did an intervention thinking they had a drug problem gone terribly wrong.
Anyway, this friend pointed out that while my daughter talks, my son talks right behind her. And I started to realize he's like a translator for all the people that come to my house and don't understand Four Year Old english, he translates everything she says into 'Max-lish'.
I used to find it really irritating how they both talk at once. Since I started looking at it as translation, it suddenly seems less 'punch myself in the face' and more 'tickle my funny bone'.
To see the translation of what I just wrote into Max-lish, read here:
"Deegle diggle dah. Dah, yeah! Yeah! Hey! Diggle deegle. SHARK!!! SHARK!!!! Ooooh. Zoo! Zoooo! Lion. Oooh."
::: posted by Melissa at 8:55 PM
Yes, The Queen is back. Before I pictured this computer as a bitchy woman with a fiery and unpredictable temprement. I've changed my view of The Queen. I've now decided this stupid piece of garbage is actually a very grumpy, tempremental, whiney and rather aged gay man.
This at least makes me smile while The Queen crashes on me in mid sentence. I can at least smile imagining the dramatics The Queen would perform if he could talk. 'Dear God, puh-leeze not another story about those wretched children.' 'Well little Miss Snotty Pants, if you think I am going to let you say that you have another thing coming.'
It is amusing really, but the thing is this Queen doesn't just say things....this Queen crashes and makes me lose data...ALL THE TIME. As a matter of fact I could lose what I'm writing to you at any moment.
I've tried praying to the patron saint of Gay Computers, but he just seems too busy and won't take this monstrosity off my hands.
I've done something naughty in my frustration. I've applied for an Apple loan, and I got it. Shocking really. I haven't used it but I am about this close to doing so. Someone please tell me it's a good idea.
I'm not sure how long I'll be able to resist using my line of credit. I'm not sure how long I can put up with this stupid machine. I'm picturing an Office Space style farewell for it once my new machine is finally here. Actually maybe it can be moved out to the shed with 'Franken Mower'. Maybe Frank and The Queen will hit it off. They're both irritating and frustrating machines made up of several different parts and way past their prime.
I must go before The Queen decides it's time.
::: posted by Melissa at 4:54 PM
Monday, July 21, 2003 :::
As it turns out it was not the 'uh huh's' that caused me to lose hold of my fragile grip on my sanity.
It was actually a 2.5 hour back up on the toll road out of Chicago. There is nothing like a two and a half hour back up where they actually charge you two dollars for the God Damn privilege of inching your way through the stinking mess that is Gary, Indiana.
The thing is, I would have paid $200 to start driving even a steady 45 miles at that point. Instead I paid my $2, crossed through the toll booth full of hope I'd be able to get through Gary at a rapid pace, and faced miles and miles of brake lights as we all attempted to form one line out of Gary.
I felt myself begin to panic, like I was trapped in a burning building and attempting to exit single file. I just wanted OUT NOW!!!! But there was no where to go. Miles and miles of brake lights and no where to pull over, unless one wants to stop in Gary, Indiana, and one would not choose to do that.
My temper tantrum began and ended with a long string of the F-word. It included tears, screaming at my husband attempting to calm me down. There was no calming the ball of fury rising within my soul. At one point I attempted to reach into the treat bag and get a rice krispie treat, to calm me down....but whilst leaning over I rear ended a nice gentleman from Tennessee. He was very kind about it all but to be honest I felt like saying,
'I'm so very sorry I rammed into the back of your car...but if you would kindly remove yourself from this mass of humanity and allow me to get the HELL out of this land God hath forsaken. I understand you don't really want to stay in Gary anymore than I do, but I must warn you I am about to ram every single one of you people off this road so that I might drive at a steady 75 mph all the way back to my home.'
After making our way through that mess (without ramming anyone off the road) we found our way to a Chili's. I never in my life thought I would be so happy to see a Chili's restaurant. As I sat down in that little booth, I felt God was with me. And it was He who brought me that very tall Sam Adams, and it was He who brought me another and it was He who allowed me to sleep the rest of that drive home.
Is there a patron saint of Chili's? Because if there isn't I am applying for the position.
::: posted by Melissa at 1:57 PM
Thursday, July 17, 2003 :::
I have three big fears about the drive I am about to embark on.
1. I am afraid I will get a flat, because I had a tire replaced this week and the jack asses at the car place somehow broke the item that holds my spare in place. It felt really good to hear the mechanic say, 'Well, we're not exactly sure what happened.' File under: Things you don't want your mechanic to say.
2. Gary, IN.
3. I am most afraid my daughter will talk non stop from the beginning of our drive to the end. I am afraid I will have some sort of seizure while saying 'uh huh. uh huh. uh huh.' You see there's a reason it takes two people to have a baby. No, not because of the egg/sperm combination. It's because kids TALK A LOT. They talk a lot about nothing, so you need to buddy up to tag team the uh, huh's. I'm going to be trapped in a car with the motor mouth for 6 hours, doing all the 'uh huh's' myself. I just hope I don't drive off the road in a bizarre suicide attempt. If you hear about a bizarre traffic accident on I-94, 'uh huh', that's me.
**Oh, fyi. While I'm saying 'uh huh' all day and night, my husband will be flying into Chicago in the quiet comfort of his first class flight. While my back is killing me from lifting and loading all the crap one must take on a vacation with children, my husband's back is feeling just fabulous from the massage he had from 'the lovely Gwen' last night at his resort in Lake Tahoe. He vehemently denies this week in Tahoe is a vacation for him. I think a vacation is whenever you don't have to say 'Uh huh' for at least 75% of the time.
I hope he's all rested up because come Friday night at 7pm, I am punching out and the tequila's going to be flowing.
::: posted by Melissa at 12:42 PM
Wednesday, July 16, 2003 :::
::I Wish I Had This Job::
There are just so very many things I love about Mr. Lunch
::: posted by Melissa at 11:48 PM
::Miss Michigan, Meet Florida::
Florida and Michigan together are really just a hand job. Think about it.
::: posted by Melissa at 2:03 AM
Tuesday, July 15, 2003 :::
::More Mowing Moaning::
I pulled the lawn mower out this afternoon and as it turns out....we have something called a 'Franken-Mower'
Our mower is like a trashy car with mismatched side panels and hood. We got an electric mower from a friend years ago when we moved in. Logan absolutely refused to mow a lawn with an electric mower. He truly believed the size of his penis would diminish if he used an electric mower.
Apparently, his father feared this fate for his son, so he bought a new mower for himself and gave us a hand me down. The problem with this mower was the wheels kept falling off. The actual housing around the wheels was rusting away.
One day, my brother in law saw a lawn mower being thrown away. Because my husband's family is directly descended from the most frugal people on the Mayflower, he threw that mower into his truck and 'gifted' us with it.
Obviously it didn't work. So the next step in the creation of 'Franken Mower' was the replacement of one engine with another. Problem? The working engine wouldn't fit properly on the intact mower frame. At that point, you may think, 'I guess it's time to bite the bullet and buy a new mower.' But then, you're not a member of the 'Frugal Family'. Instead they put the engine into the frame backwards.
At this point I can't get the damn thing to start. There is also some issue with the clutch being removed and some 'jiggling trick' I have to do with the throttle and a 'positioning trick' I have to do with the choke...or was it jiggle the choke and positioning the throttle?
See, this scenario has amputation written all over it.
In the meantime I've been watching for the homeless man who's stolen a lawn mower to come by. I've never let him cut my lawn for the principle of it (the lawn mower is far too nice to have been bought by a man living in the street, as a matter of fact I may steal it from him and give him 'Frank'). But at this point, I have a 'title' to protect. Morals be damned. I will give him $30 and contribute to the crime rate of my fair city, simply so I don't have to mow a lawn.
Today, while at Sears. I browsed the mowers and when a salesperson asked me if I needed help, well, you can imagine the earful I gave him. I asked him if he'd ever attempted to use a mower with a backwards engine. Or one with a choke you have to jiggle and a throttle you have to hold a specific way? He was so empathetic. Shaking his head with the lunacy of the task facing me. He shook his head, he gasped at just the right moments.
Then I told him about how I have a little 'spending problem' so money is really tight and he said, 'Hold on just one minute.' Like a knight in shining armor he returned with an application for a Sears charge. I resisted. He pulled the mower down and told me to push it, you know 'Just to see how easy it is'.
Oh, if ever there was an Eve in the proverbial Garden of Eden facing down a slithering Serpant, it was me today in the lawn aisle of Sears. Oh, he tempted me. I used logic to resist. He told me the approval process takes just twenty minutes. I was silent. He helped me pull the starter...it was so smooth.....I resisted....at the end he even told me my charge would be interest free for 90 days. Oh the temptation....
At this point, the only thing between me and another credit card debt is my 'Never Mowed A Lawn' Title. It's all I have. I remained faithful to my laziness in the face of great temptation.
The lawn at this point is actually starting to look a little like the Garden of Eden with it's overgrown green-ness, well, except it's in the middle of suburbia, oh and there aren't any naked people living a perfect existence. When we get back from our vacation...maybe there will be, and then how will we mow?
As an aside, my sister told me about a flyer for a teen's lawn service she got at her place. The very creative name of the teenager's business?
T and A Lawn Service.
I KID YOU NOT.
I want to call and ask if I get the Tits and Ass as part of the price or do I have to pay extra?
::: posted by Melissa at 4:54 PM
Monday, July 14, 2003 :::
::Do You Find This Odd?::
I will be 30 years old in September. I have never once in my entire life mowed a lawn.
I don't think it's odd, I think it's the sign of a very shrewd mind. Growing up my brother mowed the lawn, then I went to college and a lovely lawn boy took care of the lawn and finally, I was married and my charming husband now mows the lawn.
Typically. Unless he's buried in deadlines, riding 150 miles on his bicycle and then an hour after the bike ride, jetting off to Lake Tahoe.
The question now is...how can I make it to age 30 without ever mowing the lawn. I'd actually like someone to say at my funeral one day....'She lived 97 years and never once in that lifetime did she mow a lawn.'
It's a personal goal, wish me luck, because this might be the week that brings down my little dream of a life with out yard work.
::: posted by Melissa at 9:29 PM
Sunday, July 13, 2003 :::
My significant other left for Lake Tahoe today. He left a car full of crying people. The children cried because they will miss him terribly, I cried because facing another five days and a six hour drive to Chicago alone with my children is really overwhelming me at the moment.
Here is the weather for Tahoe this week.
I'm actually starting to wonder why they even have a weather report for Lake Tahoe. It appears it's always sunny, in the low 80's with low humidity. Whereas here in Michigan, it's humid, hot and raining all the time. Fabulous!
I think I may need to call the doctor about my Zoloft prescription.
::: posted by Melissa at 8:55 PM
::My Uterus Is Aching
If you would like to have a baby, please click here.
**Warning: you will spontaneously lactate**
If you would like to remember why it is you are done having babies, please click here.
::: posted by Melissa at 1:42 AM
Friday, July 11, 2003 :::
::Things You'd Rather Not Hear At Your Wedding
During the vows:
At the reception:
*Pretty much any sentence that starts with 'Oops'
*'Is your mother in law wearing chinos?'
*Any version of the Hokey Pokey.
*Anything by Milli Vanilli.
*Your new mother in law, saying anything except 'Congratulations'
On your wedding night:
*'What was your name again?'
*'Well that was uneventful.'
*'How about something [champagne] 'middle of the road'"? Wait, that tickled me.
*'So, do I start refusing to have sex now that we're married?'
*'I am so glad all that's over, now I can get fat and stop caring about how I look.'
::: posted by Melissa at 4:06 PM
Today is the anniversary of the day my darling husband and I tied the knot. The contrast of that day 6 years ago and my day today has been entirely startling.
Six years ago, the weather was beautiful, no humidity, sunny, warm but not hot. Today, it's really rather cold, windy and entirely overcast.
Six years ago, I woke up very early because the anticipation of this long awaited day kept me awake most of the night. Today, my husband left very early in the morning because work is so very demanding at the moment. I barely opened my eyes when he kissed me goodbye.
Six years ago, my sister and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at a little restaurant. This morning I drank a can of Diet Coke for breakfast, tried to get laundry folded and get the children dressed and fed before rushing off to a very crowded playgroup.
Six years ago, I sat in a salon and was pampered and primped. Today I left the house with wet hair and some frantically applied lipstick.
Six years ago, I put on my wedding dress and cried like a baby realizing this was the biggest thing in my life so far. Today I cried while trying to convince my fashion forward daughter that her 'dress up' clothes aren't really intended for wear outside. Especially not the animal print skirt part of the 'Low Priced Whore' costume. I sobbed some more when she put on striped socks and pink jellie sandals.
Six years ago, I couldn't imagine why people always said marriage was hard work. Today I know that kids, mortgage payments, work demands, feuding in laws and unfolded laundry all make marriage pretty darn hard.
Six years ago, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Today I feel a little tired, a little overwhelmed, a little overworked, a little under paid and still I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
And hey, it's not even cocktail hour yet!
::: posted by Melissa at 2:08 PM
Thursday, July 10, 2003 :::
Is it odd that my children love these two songs?
'Mambo Italiano' by Rosemary Clooney and 'It's Getting Hot In Here' by Nelly?
I've just made a mix CD for our trip to Chicago...and those two songs are on it.
Speaking of which, does my sister want to travel to Chicago a week from Friday?
::: posted by Melissa at 12:21 AM
Wednesday, July 09, 2003 :::
::A Quick Hello
It seems appropriate that I say hello to a few of my current readers....
Hello to my reader out of Sacramento, CA at the domain name 'Lanset.com'!
Hello to my reader out of Connecticut at the domain Attbi!
And a Howdy to a reader from an un named domain out of Dallas/Ft Worth, Texas!
Gosh, I didn't know you cared so much about me ladies.
Sarcasm Lesson #2: See above.
::: posted by Melissa at 10:36 PM
::I Still Believe
I have a very dear friend, Patti, who was once talking to her mother about the fact that her family doesn't always seem to understand her humor.
Her mother replied, 'I think you're funny, tell me a joke.'
Patti said, 'Well, a lot of time I think sarcasm is really funny.'
Her mother says, 'Who is that? I've never heard of him.'
I truly love sarcasm. If he actually was a comedian, I'd be his groupie.
I've been told recently that my sarcasm is rude and nasty.
I've paused to consider that.
I've decided that some people aren't intelligent enough to use sarcasm, they are just plain old rude. See it must be the Catholic girl in me, but I can't seem to just lay it out with biting and nasty words. I have to overstate the obvious to make my point.
For example, two responses to one situation. A woman bumps into you at the grocery store causing you to drop a glass jar of olives all over the floor. She does not apologize and walks away without even offering to help you.
First the rude, lay it out there response:
'You, rude, clumsy, ridiculous woman! How about an apology for running me over? How about some help you buffoon. You have some nerve lady.'
Next the sarcastic, sly response:
(In a loud voice): 'My, how clumsy of me! To get in the way of someone so busy and important as yourself. No, no, please don't help me, you just go on about your busy busy day. I'll stand here with olive juice all over me and enjoy the smell. I am so sorry for getting in your way like that. Please finish your shopping.'
See, I don't mean that, I actually think this woman is an idiot....but the fact that I am overstating everything is my silly little way of getting my point across without having to be so rude as to just call it as I see it. I'm mad, she knows it, I know it...but I can keep smiling. Imagine how boring life would be without my friend Sarcasm. We'd all just be rude all the time.
I've decided that people who get angry at people who use sarcasm to make a point are just plain old pissed off they can't seem to use sarcasm in the same way. I'm more than happy to give lessons.
::: posted by Melissa at 10:26 PM
Tuesday, July 08, 2003 :::
Wouldn't life be so much better if you could Photoshop reality?
The first thing I'd do is stick my head on Elle McPherson's body, march out to the swim club, and I'd do this without a single margarita to get my courage up.
Also, I'd never make Logan iron again....I'd simply smooth out all those pesky wrinkles with a swift move of the mouse.
I'd change the color of my house. I'd do a sweat free re-landscaping of the yard. I'd eliminate my neighbors front porch turned storage shed. I'd never get old. I'd never have a blemish. I could walk around in a Playboy style fuzzy glow all day if I wanted.
I could cut, paste and diffuse glow all my troubles away. Perhaps I could even cut and paste my husband's family and replace them with kind people?
When you think about it I'd be a modern day version of Samantha from Bewitched...except instead of wiggling my nose I'd simply double click!
Yes, Photoshop as an application for reality would certainly make my life ever so much better.
::: posted by Melissa at 4:24 PM
Monday, July 07, 2003 :::
::If One Has Nothing To Say, What Does One Say?::
I like something that is really disgusting and against all the laws of God and Nature.
Reduced Fat Velveeta Shells and Cheese with a can of tuna fish mixed in.
Just seeing it written there makes me feel like vomiting, but truly I love it.
What really makes me laugh is the fact that as a child my mother once mixed green peas into my macaroni and cheese and I thought (and still do think) that was the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard of.
How have I made a distinction between 'Tuna Fish and Mac'n Cheese' and 'Peas and Mac'n Cheese'?
Ponder please and get back to me, it's unsettling really.
::: posted by Melissa at 10:50 PM
Sunday, July 06, 2003 :::
::I Now Know::
I now know why I've been so content and happy lately. It's the air conditioning. I'm so thankful. This house is downright chilly. I love going outside, sweating my ass off and relishing the fact that when I go back inside...it's going to be brisk in our little bungalow turned igloo.
::: posted by Melissa at 2:35 PM
::My Nobel Peace Prize::
I truly believe if all world leaders were required to wear one of these adorable Lands' End playsuits to all peace talks, there would be peace in our time. Wearing these little suits (in bright and fun colors) would be a great equalizer among all nations, leveling the playing field making everyone look as stupid and ridiculous as the next guy.
::: posted by Melissa at 1:40 PM
Saturday, July 05, 2003 :::
Someday, sooner, rather than later, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen will be featured in a nude layout in Playboy magazine.
This will happen as soon as Walmart stops carrying their line of clothing and accessories and as soon as 8 year old girls stop buying their odd, 'straight to video' movies.
It tugs at my heart strings just a little to think of them doing it, not because I think there's anything particularly wrong with nudity per se. More because it will seem like a desperate act of holding onto a celebrity built on not much more than excellent marketing and public relations.
I just really hope they don't end up looking like the 'Barbie Twins'.
::: posted by Melissa at 3:20 PM
Friday, July 04, 2003 :::
::Let's Just Say::
I've been thinking...what if all this therapy works and it turns out I'm not sarcastic at all, I'm not cynical about everything? What if it turns out I adore being a parent and everything that goes with that?
What if instead of finding my job really irritating...I love it so much I want to eat my children up by the spoonful every single day? What if I actually become one of those mothers that believes she is Pollyanna and believes her children are actually the second coming of Jesus Christ?
Because I'm getting nervous that maybe the Zoloft is working too well lately. I'm getting nervous that maybe Logan has inserted a computer chip into my brain and I'm becoming a Stepford wife. (Case in point; I cleaned our bedroom today and the absolute joy and satisfaction I feel from looking at the dust free surfaces in here....it's scaring me) Maybe I'll stop being funny if all I want to do all day is grab a spoon and eat my kids up, swallow them whole even.
I'm starting to think parenting is going to be smooth sailing from here until about 13 when my children will hate me and think I am the most annoying thing since the 'Just Say No' campaign...and at that point I'll see a young mother at the grocery store dealing with a tantruming toddler and I'll say "Oh, enjoy this time, it goes too fast ...."
When I say that....this is the time in my parenting life I'll be thinking of.
Someone please throw me a sarcastic life line immediately.
::: posted by Melissa at 2:42 PM
Thursday, July 03, 2003 :::
:: The Ice Cream Man::
Is it just me or does everyone have supersonic hearing when it comes to the Ice Cream Man jingle? I can hear him from miles and miles away.
Is it just me or does everyone have a Pavlovian response to the Ice Cream Truck? I feel like a dog everytime I hear that catchy tune. My instinct to get ice cream kicks in.
Is it just me or are some of the saddest memories of your childhood the times you got your parents to let you buy something from the truck only to race out of the house just missing the damn truck? That sinking sensation haunts me and I hate it when I see a neighbor kid miss his chance to get the ice cream truck to stop. It makes me want to hop in my car and chase the stupid truck.
I rarely buy ice cream from the truck (my parents were right, it is far cheaper to get it at the market) but still I find myself resisting the urge to run, in a panic to get my mom to give me money for ice cream.
But then I remember I am the Mom now and as the Mom, it's my job to be a BuzzKill and remind my own children that "You can buy twice as much ice cream at the store for half the cost that Ice Cream Man wants.'
And my Dad knew because he was the Ice Cream Man as a young man. It always seemed so cool that my Dad was the Ice Cream Man....he always pulled that part of his resume out when we begged for ice cream from the "Rip Off Truck".
'Now why would we buy from that Ice Cream Man when you have your very own Ice Cream Man right here?'
Then he'd reach into the freezer and grab a store brand popsicle 'Purple or orange?'
I mean, it was a nice try...but really it just wasn't the same.
Sometimes I think he may have even crafted an elaborate lie to convince us we had it just as good as the lucky kids with parents who liked to spend their hard earned money being ripped off by the Ice Cream Man. Now that is simply too much for me to even consider, he was an Ice Cream Man. He had to have been....because that was the very best thing about him.
::: posted by Melissa at 3:54 PM
Wednesday, July 02, 2003 :::
::Words That Sound Sexual, But Aren't Necessarily::
On a road trip with friends, we used our two way radios to communicate between the two vehicles. The drive was fairly boring, and we really didn't have that much to communicate since we had spent an entire weekend together, so instead we shared words that weren't necessarily sexual, but sound like it.
It has forever changed the way I use my vocabulary. I can not use these words in public without sexual imagery being played over and over in my immature head.
Admittedly, I rarely used many of these words in conversation. Turgid, flaccid, pendulous...not so much. But yesterday, someone I know was talking about her hair and the 'gray patch' she was getting.
It was all I could do to control my immature giggling. I'm so glad I married someone as ridiculous as me, he totally laughed when I told him.
::: posted by Melissa at 1:06 PM
Tuesday, July 01, 2003 :::
::Today I Like This::
After spending the weekend with my brother and his wife, who are in a heated competition with my husband and I for the title of "The Bickerson's", I really didn't think it possible for someone to argue more than the four of us.
Well, we've met our match.
Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About
::: posted by Melissa at 1:38 PM