Archive | October, 2005

Peanut butter coma

by Mir on October 31, 2005 in Detritus

It turns out that years of adapting to a food-allergic child has paid off in spades. Sure, yeah–the kid never died. Great. Whatever. I’m talking about IMPORTANT matters, here. Like that even though they can have it, now, neither child particularly likes peanuts or peanut butter, and they both still consider a nickel a treat a pretty good bargain.

For the low price of one hour trolling the neighborhood and a handful of loose change I bought myself nirvana: Reese’s cups, Snickers bars, Butterfingers, and Almond Joys.

Heaven. I didn’t expect to be nauseous in heaven, but I’m hoping that part will pass….

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My favorite crimefighters

by Mir on October 31, 2005 in Offspring: ecstasy and agony

In case you haven’t been following things over at my other haunt, you might want to pop over and look at today’s post, which contains a picture of some very cool superheroes.

Have a spooktacular evening, everyone!

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And no one lost a finger

by Mir on October 30, 2005 in What do I do all day?

I have some friends who are Party People. I don’t mean they like to party as in, go out trolling at bars and getting hammered. Puh-lease. We are all, um, old, and mostly married, with small kids. No, here in suburbia we have family parties and get hammered while our children run around and punch each other.

Ahahahahaha! I kid. First of all, most injuries are of the “he fell on me on the trampoline” variety. Second, not everyone gets hammered. For example, I am generally too paranoid to drink at all when I have the kids with me, given that a single drink is likely to make me loopy. Plus, damn, I have a lot of friends who could outdrink many fratboys without even breaking a sweat. They don’t get hammered, they just drink and keep on wiping runny noses and tying shoes.

Me, I never host parties. I don’t know how, on account of I am a social retard. I mean, sure, I GO to all of these parties, and it seems very simple: People show up, mill around, and eat and drink. But that seems beyond my abilities, somehow. Thankfully I’m still able to show up at these functions when everyone else hosts them!
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Handy “how-to”s*

by Mir on October 29, 2005 in Haven't been hit by lightning yet!

How to… sleep in in the morning:
Give the children permission to rise and fetch their own breakfasts, play downstairs, and watch cartoons. You should be able to grab an extra hour of sleep before the screaming becomes too loud. This approach is not recommended if you will be troubled by any of the following–
A) Trails of pop-tart crumbs
B) Milk spilled on the floor
C) 325 pieces of dollhouse furniture set out like a wee furniture warehouse showfloor all over the living room floor
D) Your son wearing a pink unitard
E) Your daughter wearing your son’s brand-new dress socks

How to… get the kids to clean up their mess:
Offer to take them to a movie later on if they’re good. Be sure to bring it up again–wistfully–any time they wander off task. “I guess we won’t be able to see that movie, after all,” followed by a heavy sigh, for example, works wonderfully.
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My eyes!!

by Mir on October 28, 2005 in I'm dating the television

I am watching the Food Network and was so excited to see that we’d be learning how a red velvet cake is made. I mean, I live in New England, and red velvet cake is not a staple around here. So, yay! What a thrilling way to spend my Friday night!

Except that Al Roker was chatting with the bakery lady while they made the cake together, and then he… he… *shudder* he spanked himself with the rubber spatula while declaring the cake “sexy.”

That was just wrong on so many different levels. Any desire I had for red velvet cake? GONE.

In fact, I think there’s an entire market waiting to be tapped with the Roker Aversion Diet. They could call it RAD for short, and people everywhere who previously failed every diet will soon be thin, just from having to watch Al Roker being playful with foods they used to love. Gah.

In other news, the world ended today.
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Must… not… succumb…

by Mir on October 27, 2005 in My name is Grumplestiltskin

There are certain changes that happen to a woman when she becomes a mother. If she gives birth, her body changes; it will likely never be the same again, whether from stretch marks or breast changes or surgical traces. Whether the child comes from her body or not, the mother is transformed. She now has eyes in the back of her head. She has bionic hearing. She has an innate lie detector and an Achilles heel.

And of course, every mother has the highly developed ability to become a martyr at a moment’s notice.

(Admittedly, some of the Mommy Powers are more useful than others.)

I’ve yet to find a useful application for the martyr role, but that doesn’t stop me from fluttering my eyelashes at it, buying it a drink, and leaning in close to it, sometimes. I can’t seem to help myself. Its pull is sometimes irresistible.
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Evolution

by Mir on October 26, 2005 in Offspring: ecstasy and agony

Today I have pleased the fickle fates. My spaztastic keyboard spontaneously healed itself; it was fine this morning when I came downstairs. I typed extra words, waiting for the cursor to start leaping around on the screen, but my keyboard coolly kept placing the letters one after another in logical succession. I think I heard it laughing at me. (“Great job screwing with her mind!” the mouse snickered to its companion. “She’s actually wondering if maybe she imagined all of that last night!”)

Also, I’m pretty sure my hair grew a little bit last night. Really. It so did. JUST LET ME BELIEVE THAT AND SMILE AND NOD. Thanks. You’re pretty.

And lastly, I got an invitation to participate in a migraine study! That’s GOT to be a good sign! Because, you know, usually my migraines only get me, oh, pain and vomiting and whatnot. They don’t often pay $50. But maybe my luck is turning.

Needless to say, armed with all of these favorable omens, I started thinking about Christmas shopping.
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I want to smell her first

by Mir on October 26, 2005 in Friends

So much for liveblogging her labor (I wasn’t really sure how she’d pull that off, frankly), but I’ve heard from Zoot’s Mom that Zoot gave birth to a beautiful baby girl this morning.

Welcome to the world, NikkiZ! And congrats to the entire Zoot clan!

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Even my keyboard is scared

by Mir on October 25, 2005 in It's not a regret, it's an "experience"

U, riht now my keyboard is randomly skipping th cursor all around without ay iput from me, resuting in letters eing shunte to teh end of where I’m typing and lttle curls of smoke comign out my ears. It’s a cordless keyboard, and changed the batteries, and it’s silldoing it. This is m NEWCOMPUTER and I am NOT AMUSED. y tIidblnmnegm

Be that ay, bitch. Ill go use my laptop, then.’w

[Upstairs on my laptop, now.] Oh lord. If there is something wrong with my computer–on top of the recent events of Hairgate–I cannot be held responsible for my actions. I’m just sayin’. There’s only so much a person can be expected to withstand before they crack. Let’s just say I may be showing a few stress fractures, already.

Hey! Guess what happened today! GUESS!
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Hilarious misunderstandings!

by Mir on October 24, 2005 in It's not a regret, it's an "experience"

I should’ve known this was coming. I mean, it’s karmic retribution for blithely tossing around the word “malapropisms” a few days ago. Stupid! I should’ve covered myself better. I should’ve known! Murphy is no friend of mine. Murphy comes up as “Unavailable” on the Caller ID and then tries to sell me aluminum siding during dinner, in fact.

And yet, here I am. Victim of so many communication failures. It is to laugh, if only I can stop wailing and gnashing my teeth long enough to do so.

Example 1: “No, Mama. I am TELLING you, they were talking about the LONG Ranger. He had to ride for a very LONG time. See? You’ve never even SEEN that show. And LONE isn’t even a word.” (My wise reaction: I backed away slowly, because heaven forbid I actually be RIGHT about anything.)

Example 2: “I didn’t kick you! I was just… rubbing your leg… with my foot… a little.” (My wise reaction: Mama Death Glare, judiciously administered until the little head hung and the lip quivered and an apology was offered.)

Example 3 is more complicated. But I’m sure it’s just as funny! Or will be, someday, looking back, after a LOT of alcohol!
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