Six
I’ll give you three guesses about what I was busy doing tonight, and why.
Nope, not that.
Ewwwwww, NO! Sicko.
Okay, fine. Need a hint? It’s very graphic, so don’t click the link unless you are of hearty disposition. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Ready?
Say what you say
I realized that I forgot to share one of my favorite moments from our latke party, yesterday, and then I thought, “Oh well.” Was I just going to throw a single line up here as a blog post? I could, but it would seem self-indulgent and whatnot (as opposed to the REST of what I write here… ha!) so I was ready to let it go.
But THEN I just got SO LUCKY. Because a few more things came to my attention and I thought HEY, I could put all of these things together and they would still be complete non-sequitors but I could pretend like they were related. And they are, in the sense that they’re all… ummm… things. Things that struck me. Because I prefer to spend my days in an inattentive haze, and the few things that penetrate my fog are noteworthy, I believe. Yes. And then I write them down for you, and you agree with me, dammit, because doesn’t everyone?
[Side note: Apparently not, no. Um, I belong to multiple listings where users have the ability to leave a rating on a site, anonymously. And no matter how many times it happens, I am always just SO TICKLED when my site is highly ranked and then someone comes along and gives me the lowest possible rating, as if that will somehow make me storm off the playground in a huff, leaving them king of the sandbox. Yes, I get it. You don’t like me. Certainly you’ve shaken my world and everything, but I’ll try to soldier on, somehow.]
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The good, the bad and the tired
Because I am a VERY MEAN MOTHER I did not allow my children to stay up until midnight last night. They were complaining about this still, today, even as their jaws cracked with monster yawning and their adorable little heads spun completely around in the way that only small children’s heads can do when their owners haven’t had enough sleep. And because I recognized that the late bedtime last night (10:00! I thought I was cool, laissez faire, even! But no, I am the meanest mama ever!) meant that today could be a little bit rocky, I cleared the calendar and made sure we could spend the day at home doing absolutely nothing.
Or maybe I dragged the kids to church, took them out to eat with friends afterwards, and then took them to ANOTHER party this evening. You know, I didn’t have a single drop of alcohol last night. Clearly I didn’t need it, what with all the CRACK I’ve been smoking.
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It’s in the oven right now
In a little while we’re off to go party like it’s 2006. Woo! After we arrive my children will go run with a pack of feral minors, and I won’t see them again until it’s time to leave. I’ll go hang out with the grown-ups, and charm folks with my habit of saying smooth things like “I have crabs! Crabs DIP! HAHAHA!”
But it’s REALLY good crab dip. I promise. It’s served with squares of melba toast, which are merely a vehicle for getting the dip from the dish to your mouth. It’s a scientific fact that when the melba toast runs out, it can be replaced with chips of cardboard and no one will even notice.
Here’s to all good things in 2006. Or at least plenty of good snacks.
Purge
The battle against STUFF has officially begun in earnest. No, I won’t be done by the end of 2005, but progress is being made.
Um, speaking of purging… there’s an ad on right now for Nutrisystem Nourish (motto: Now with MORE IRONY!), and the spokesskeleton is talking about how she went from a size 10 to a size 4 in just 3 months, or something. First of all? She looked pretty good as a size 10. Second? I’m a size 4, and I’m twice as big as her. What is it about the impending new year that makes everyone want to get so skinny that those of us who were thin to begin with start wondering if we woke up fat one day and didn’t notice?
Sorry, what was I talking about? I was mesmerized by the commercial and then I had to go eat half a pan of brownies in the name of feminism. Yes. What?
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The stuff that ate Manhattan
Oh, I had plans for this week. Big plans! Important plans!
Said plans were approximately thus:
1) Sleep. Lots.
2) Eat. Lots.
3) Catch up on laundry.
4) Clean up the piles of papers everywhere.
5) Put away the Christmas stuff.
6) Donate outgrown/discarded/embarrasing clothing.
7) Throw away the stuff that needs to be thrown away.
8) Clean out that kitchen cabinet where opening the door always causes an avalanche.
9) Get the kids to clean up the playroom so that I can…
10) … get the old computer set up with the kids’ games.
As usual, reality so seldom lives up to my motivation.
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Usurped genitalia, with bonus ottomans
I realized, writing it down, how very wrong that sounds, or perhaps as if I’m about to tell you all about my new emo band. I know. But there is no help for it, for this is what I must tell you about.
Or rather, this is what I was GOING to tell you about, before Joshilyn beat me to it because she just HAPPENED to be blogging while we were chatting earlier. Bless her heart.
Anyway, she beat me to it, but I will tell you even MORE because really, is there such a thing as too much warty genitalia? Of course there isn’t. So let’s start with the obvious:
1) No, I’m not talking about ME. Or anyone I KNOW.
2) I cannot WAIT to see what my Google Ads come up with after this entry.
3) Really, is it fair to STEAL references to warty genitalia from a friend and blog them, yourself? Only if you are very, very pretty. Joss is off the hook.
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Articulated animatronics
Before I had children, I believed that all toys should be educational. There would be no mindless video games, there would be no sexist, female-objectifying plastic dolls, no “latest and greatest” toys purchased because my child(ren) had been hypnotized by commercials to believe that without that toy, there was no point in living. And since my children wouldn’t be watching television commercials, that would be easy. I’m not sure any of these plans actually involved a plastic bubble, but maybe if they had, it all would’ve worked out.
So–as I’m sure you’ve already guessed–there were a few fatal flaws in my planning. Most notably that I had my head up my ass when I made all of those decisions. It’s very easy to set rules for fictitious children, I’ve found. Unfortunately, the real live ones tend to be a bit more difficult. Particularly if you allow them to leave the house and mingle with other real live children.
Also, as much as I enjoyed arguing with my ex about “appropriate toys” while we were still married, I hold even less sway over his actions, now that we’re divorced. And he’s entitled to his opinions, even though they’re all wrong.
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More pretzels!
Tune in right now to your local Instant Messenger installation to experience the joy of my one-woman show, powered by beer and pretzels. I’m very entertaining. To myself. And possibly a few friends, though they might just be scared to point out that I am an incredible dork.
Wow, one beer and suddenly it’s a major tragedy when I reach the bottom of the pretzel bag. DAMN YOU, PRETZELS! RUNNING OUT ON ME WITH YOUR SALTY GOODNESS SUDDENLY GONE! I have abandonment issues. Pretzels give me flashbacks. What’s not to enjoy?
Ahem. By the way? Me = cheap date.
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All is calm, all is bright
Sometimes I actually get it. If some teenager can ride all day on a donkey, 9 months pregnant, and then deliver her own baby in a stable and still consider it an amazing and wonderful thing… well, I guess I can set aside the less-than-perfect aspects of my own life and bask in the miracles around me.
I mean, hell; being in a nice warm house free of dung is sort of the jackpot, in comparison, right off the bat. Add in not having to squeeze a messiah out of my nether regions, and my day really starts to look like a party pretty much no matter what. For one thing, I have a nice big bottle of Advil right there on the counter.
Regardless. Today was an excellent Christmas.
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