Friday
20Nov2009
Nov 20, 2009Thursday
19Nov2009
The Thumbs Up
I've had pretty bad acne lately. Lately, as in, the past ten years. Never a zit in junior high or high school but round about age twenty they attacked with a vengeance. And when they attack I can't help but defend myself. No, not so much defend myself as fight back, usually in the worst way possible. I've been known to use needles, safety pins and yes, once, in a pinch, I jacked up my chin with a thumbtack. Really, I can't be stopped. Much like some kind of athlete or performer, I go into a kind of zone when popping zits and you'd have to tie me up to stop me. So yeah, Britney gets in the zone to lip sync, Michael Phelps gets in the zone to be the best swimmer in the world and I excel at popping zits.
But my mad acne popping skills aren't the point here. Well, kind of...I'm getting there.
Last week I'd attacked my face and then had to face the consequences at work the next day. You know, giant scabs on my chin, periodic oozing. Sometimes, you can dot a little eyeliner on a zit and pass it off as a mole. Not these. What I mean to say here is my chin looked like a small, feral animal had landed on my face and maniacally massacred my chin before leaping off and running away.
The human resources department, also known as Janet, has been requesting we re-enroll in health care so we don't lose it. For much of October I'd been receiving this dire warning via loudspeaker, signs posted on the restroom and email. Why we have to re-enroll, even if we didn't want to change a thing about our health care, is beyond me but long ago I stopped questioning any workplace policies choosing either to do as told and make sure everyone knows about my compliance or, you know, NOT do as told and make sure no one knows of my transgression.
Stick with me here, I suppose this one requires a lot of exposition. So I was filling out my enrollment form and came to a part that confused me. Of course. These things are never easy, are they? I still can't fill out a W4 form without the assistance of at least four people. What number should I put here? If I put this will they take more or less out of my paycheck? What did you put? Is my husband a dependent? WHY ARE THEY STEALING ALL MY MONEY?!
I left the newsroom in search of The Human Resources Department A.K.A. Janet. Now, to get to Janet's office you have to pass the front desk. A security guard mans the desk full-time during the day fending off the crazies who think news anchors are speaking directly to them, the usual nutters. I don't know the security guard but I'd heard talk of his exuberance in the thumbs up area. Now, I'm not a big fan of the High Five or the Thumbs Up. I've been known to engage in a Fist Bump a time or two but I just can't get behind the High Five. I don't find much at work to High Five about and feel that a simple "Good Job" will always suffice. Still, people persist with the High Fiving, and really, that's great, you and your High Five. It's just not for me. And have you ever tried to get out of high fiving? It can't be done without looking like a Grade A douchebag. But following through with a High Five makes me feel like a Grade A douchebag so I'm always torn when this little workplace scenario presents itself to me. Mostly I capitulate and High Five about the basket of cookies a business sent to the newsroom or I High Five about how many unique users logged onto our website at work or I High Five about Jenny's birthday cake. And I lose a small piece of my soul each time. But you wouldn't know it. My mind screams NOOOOO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOOO but my face says GREAT WORK, EVERYONE! HIGH FIVES ALL AROUND.
Stupid High Five.
But it wasn't the High Five today, it was th most exuberant Thumbs Up I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing in my life. Directed at me, from the security guard. Not just a Thumbs Up, a Double Thumbs Up. Let's be clear here; I don't know this man, have never spoken to him in my life. I'd just peeped in The Human Resource Department's office and Janet wasn't there. I was walking back down the hall and in doing so, was directly facing the glass doors that lead to the front waiting room where the security guard sits behind a desk. I'm walking, minding my own business when I happen to glance his way. He was ready. He looks at me all serious-like and executes one of the biggest, most intense Double Thumbs Up I've ever seen. The kind that requires him to bounce his fists and thumbs up and down really hard to accentuate the Thumbs Up. You feel me? It was such an intense Double Thumbs Up that I was startled into automatically responding with a Double Thumbs Up in spite of myself.
And then I rounded the corner. I paused to let the following conversation play out in my head: Was he serious? I think he was serious! Nah, he was just being ironic. Like, Doesn't-Work-Suck-But-Here-We-Both-Are-Doing-Our-Work-Thang-Even-Though-Work-Sucks? Yeah, it was a sarcastic thumbs up. Right? No ma'am. That was a deadly serious Double Thumbs Up. A Here-We-Are-On-The-Job-And-Ain't-Life-Grand Thumbs Up. I couldn't let it go, this intense Double Thumbs Up from a stranger.
At this point a co-worker wandered by.
"Hey! Has that security dude every given you the Thumbs Up?"
"Who? Oh, him. Nope. No Thumbs Up."
Was this Thumbs Up especially for me? Did I just unknowingly enter myself in some sort of Thumbs Up Hello Program with the security guard? I thought I remembered hearing talk of this Thumbslinger, the security guard, and his affection for the Thumbs Up but I couldn't be sure so I went in search of a few test subjects.
"Psssst! MAX! RYAN!" I stage-whispered to a couple fellas in the newsroom. "C'MERE!" I motioned for them to follow me.
"So listen, I'm testing the security guard's Thumbs Up and I need you to pretend like you're checking if Janet's in her office then walk back down the hall and tell me what the security guard does." Neither boy seemed surprised at my workplace shenanigans and did as I asked. I waited around the corner, anxiously watching their faces as they walked down the hall to see how they reacted.
"So? Did you get the Thumbs Up?"
Neither got a Thumbs Up.
It was about this time, AFTER we'd been talking for five minutes, that Ryan decided to inform me that I had a little something on my face. A little something. I thought he meant, like, a piece of fluff or shirt lint so I leaned in and told him to brush it off.
"Um, no? You have blood running down your chin."
I bolted for the green room and he was right. The zit I'd mangled the night before had begun oozing blood. Oh, I wish I was kidding, you guys. I'm deadly fucking serious. Here I'd been gallivanting all over the goddamn building raving about the Thumbs Up and running Thumbs Up tests and a good chunk of coworkers had probably observed my bloody chin and said NOTHING! I'm not talking a small trickle either.
I spent the next half-hour with a wet blob of Kleenex attached to my face, blotting the blood like I'd cut myself shaving. Then a well-intentioned co-worker gave me a small, round Band-Aid. So that might have been my most embarrassing day at work, ever. Wait, no, this was. But it's over with. I hope. Maybe I've unwittingly entered myself into some sort of demoralizing Thumbs Up Hello Program? I'll keep you posted.
But my mad acne popping skills aren't the point here. Well, kind of...I'm getting there.
Last week I'd attacked my face and then had to face the consequences at work the next day. You know, giant scabs on my chin, periodic oozing. Sometimes, you can dot a little eyeliner on a zit and pass it off as a mole. Not these. What I mean to say here is my chin looked like a small, feral animal had landed on my face and maniacally massacred my chin before leaping off and running away.
The human resources department, also known as Janet, has been requesting we re-enroll in health care so we don't lose it. For much of October I'd been receiving this dire warning via loudspeaker, signs posted on the restroom and email. Why we have to re-enroll, even if we didn't want to change a thing about our health care, is beyond me but long ago I stopped questioning any workplace policies choosing either to do as told and make sure everyone knows about my compliance or, you know, NOT do as told and make sure no one knows of my transgression.
Stick with me here, I suppose this one requires a lot of exposition. So I was filling out my enrollment form and came to a part that confused me. Of course. These things are never easy, are they? I still can't fill out a W4 form without the assistance of at least four people. What number should I put here? If I put this will they take more or less out of my paycheck? What did you put? Is my husband a dependent? WHY ARE THEY STEALING ALL MY MONEY?!
I left the newsroom in search of The Human Resources Department A.K.A. Janet. Now, to get to Janet's office you have to pass the front desk. A security guard mans the desk full-time during the day fending off the crazies who think news anchors are speaking directly to them, the usual nutters. I don't know the security guard but I'd heard talk of his exuberance in the thumbs up area. Now, I'm not a big fan of the High Five or the Thumbs Up. I've been known to engage in a Fist Bump a time or two but I just can't get behind the High Five. I don't find much at work to High Five about and feel that a simple "Good Job" will always suffice. Still, people persist with the High Fiving, and really, that's great, you and your High Five. It's just not for me. And have you ever tried to get out of high fiving? It can't be done without looking like a Grade A douchebag. But following through with a High Five makes me feel like a Grade A douchebag so I'm always torn when this little workplace scenario presents itself to me. Mostly I capitulate and High Five about the basket of cookies a business sent to the newsroom or I High Five about how many unique users logged onto our website at work or I High Five about Jenny's birthday cake. And I lose a small piece of my soul each time. But you wouldn't know it. My mind screams NOOOOO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOOO but my face says GREAT WORK, EVERYONE! HIGH FIVES ALL AROUND.
Stupid High Five.
But it wasn't the High Five today, it was th most exuberant Thumbs Up I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing in my life. Directed at me, from the security guard. Not just a Thumbs Up, a Double Thumbs Up. Let's be clear here; I don't know this man, have never spoken to him in my life. I'd just peeped in The Human Resource Department's office and Janet wasn't there. I was walking back down the hall and in doing so, was directly facing the glass doors that lead to the front waiting room where the security guard sits behind a desk. I'm walking, minding my own business when I happen to glance his way. He was ready. He looks at me all serious-like and executes one of the biggest, most intense Double Thumbs Up I've ever seen. The kind that requires him to bounce his fists and thumbs up and down really hard to accentuate the Thumbs Up. You feel me? It was such an intense Double Thumbs Up that I was startled into automatically responding with a Double Thumbs Up in spite of myself.
And then I rounded the corner. I paused to let the following conversation play out in my head: Was he serious? I think he was serious! Nah, he was just being ironic. Like, Doesn't-Work-Suck-But-Here-We-Both-Are-Doing-Our-Work-Thang-Even-Though-Work-Sucks? Yeah, it was a sarcastic thumbs up. Right? No ma'am. That was a deadly serious Double Thumbs Up. A Here-We-Are-On-The-Job-And-Ain't-Life-Grand Thumbs Up. I couldn't let it go, this intense Double Thumbs Up from a stranger.
At this point a co-worker wandered by.
"Hey! Has that security dude every given you the Thumbs Up?"
"Who? Oh, him. Nope. No Thumbs Up."
Was this Thumbs Up especially for me? Did I just unknowingly enter myself in some sort of Thumbs Up Hello Program with the security guard? I thought I remembered hearing talk of this Thumbslinger, the security guard, and his affection for the Thumbs Up but I couldn't be sure so I went in search of a few test subjects.
"Psssst! MAX! RYAN!" I stage-whispered to a couple fellas in the newsroom. "C'MERE!" I motioned for them to follow me.
"So listen, I'm testing the security guard's Thumbs Up and I need you to pretend like you're checking if Janet's in her office then walk back down the hall and tell me what the security guard does." Neither boy seemed surprised at my workplace shenanigans and did as I asked. I waited around the corner, anxiously watching their faces as they walked down the hall to see how they reacted.
"So? Did you get the Thumbs Up?"
Neither got a Thumbs Up.
It was about this time, AFTER we'd been talking for five minutes, that Ryan decided to inform me that I had a little something on my face. A little something. I thought he meant, like, a piece of fluff or shirt lint so I leaned in and told him to brush it off.
"Um, no? You have blood running down your chin."
I bolted for the green room and he was right. The zit I'd mangled the night before had begun oozing blood. Oh, I wish I was kidding, you guys. I'm deadly fucking serious. Here I'd been gallivanting all over the goddamn building raving about the Thumbs Up and running Thumbs Up tests and a good chunk of coworkers had probably observed my bloody chin and said NOTHING! I'm not talking a small trickle either.
I spent the next half-hour with a wet blob of Kleenex attached to my face, blotting the blood like I'd cut myself shaving. Then a well-intentioned co-worker gave me a small, round Band-Aid. So that might have been my most embarrassing day at work, ever. Wait, no, this was. But it's over with. I hope. Maybe I've unwittingly entered myself into some sort of demoralizing Thumbs Up Hello Program? I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday
17Nov2009
Can I Interest You In Some Toast?
I GUESS THE TOASTER IS HEADED OUT OF COUNTRY BECAUSE COMMENT #59 IS THE WINNER. LINDSAY C FROM CANADA, CONTACT ME AT MONICABIELANKO AT YAHOO DOT COM WITH YOUR INFO.
All right y'all. I'm cooking up another giveaway here because I like you and I like your comments and so you have to comment to win...wait for it...A BRAND NEW TOASTER! I was totally channeling Bob Barker there.
So I've got a brand-new-still-in-the-box-digital-toaster that can, like, toast a bagel or do the housework for you. It just looks fancy is all I'm saying. And it's General Electric. Which is a reputable company, no? I just mean it isn't some funky brand that is likely to break on you like some of the funky brands are inclined to do. But sometimes? I've had funky brands go the distance and the Sony or the Kenmore or whatever totally wanks out.
Anyway, if you're as stoked about toast as I am just leave a comment about your favorite Thanksgiving dish. Is it the turkey you crave or does that slippery brick of Jell-O just rock your world? Let me know and tomorrow night or maybe thursday morning I'll have Serge draw a number out of the hat (because he's SO good at it!) and that commenter gets a free toaster shipped to their home! Did I mention free? And toaster? TOAST! TOASTED THINGS! There is no limit to the toastiness.
Also, in keeping with the giveaway theme (if I've only done it once before can it be a theme?) here is my current favorite crock pot recipe.
COCONUT CHICKEN CURRY WITH SWEET POTATOES
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
2 yellow onions, chopped
2 green onions, diced
3 tsp curry powder
2 cloves garlic, minced
handful of ginger, grated
2/3 cup orange juice
2/3 cup chicken broth or stock
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground pepper
diced cilantro (optional)
Let's begin, shall we? First off, I usually grab three or four chicken breasts and poach them in boiling water for, oh, say 15 minutes, then I let 'em cool and slice 'em up and throw 'em in the crock pot. But have you ever tried to photograph raw chicken breasts? Not as fun as photographing real breasts, I can assure you. So let's just get on with the prettier stuff! Dice two medium-sized yellow onions. Like so:
Oh but wait, there's more! Onions, I mean. Slice up two green onions.
Throw all your onions in the crock pot and let's get cracking on the sweet potatoes. They're kind of a bastard because you gotta peel 'em, like this:
and then cut them into cubes, but man, are they worth it.
Now, grate a small handful of ginger right into the crock pot.
Did you know the super cool easy way to get the garlic cloves out of their papery skins? Just place a couple beneath your knife like so:
And then pound the knife with your fist like you're arguing with your husband and require pounding the coffee table for effect. Thusly:
The garlic cloves pop right out of their little garlic homes like little garlic nudists, see?
And then they're all ready to mince! Mince. That word makes me laugh. It's just so prissy.
Sorry about that last blurry photo but, well, it's hard to photograph and mince with wet hands. All right, all the choppy choppy is done! Now comes the easy pouring part. No, wait! Load in three teaspoons of curry powder! Now! Do it! After all, what is a curry without the curry?
Now just pour in about 2/3 a cup of chicken broth or stock and about the same amount of orange juice. I'm not real precise here with my measurements. In fact, last week I got crazy with the O.J. and it turned out great! Here, I'll show you!
Wait, don't stop now! There's more pouring to do. A whole can of coconut milk. Mmmmm yummy!
Okay, so I lied. You have to slice one more thing! But it's optional. If you feel like it, slice up some cilantro and throw it in! Because I'm not so hot with a knife I sometimes cheat and use scissors to cut the cilantro .
Now just sprinkle it into the crock pot!
Congratulations! You're done. Just salt and pepper and let it cook on low for six hours or so. You'll know when it's done. It looks like this!
Sorry about that black grouty stuff in my counter. It's just there all the time. I clean it a lot, I swear.
Enjoy! Now leave a comment and win a toaster!
All right y'all. I'm cooking up another giveaway here because I like you and I like your comments and so you have to comment to win...wait for it...A BRAND NEW TOASTER! I was totally channeling Bob Barker there.
So I've got a brand-new-still-in-the-box-digital-toaster that can, like, toast a bagel or do the housework for you. It just looks fancy is all I'm saying. And it's General Electric. Which is a reputable company, no? I just mean it isn't some funky brand that is likely to break on you like some of the funky brands are inclined to do. But sometimes? I've had funky brands go the distance and the Sony or the Kenmore or whatever totally wanks out.
Anyway, if you're as stoked about toast as I am just leave a comment about your favorite Thanksgiving dish. Is it the turkey you crave or does that slippery brick of Jell-O just rock your world? Let me know and tomorrow night or maybe thursday morning I'll have Serge draw a number out of the hat (because he's SO good at it!) and that commenter gets a free toaster shipped to their home! Did I mention free? And toaster? TOAST! TOASTED THINGS! There is no limit to the toastiness.
Also, in keeping with the giveaway theme (if I've only done it once before can it be a theme?) here is my current favorite crock pot recipe.
COCONUT CHICKEN CURRY WITH SWEET POTATOES
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
2 yellow onions, chopped
2 green onions, diced
3 tsp curry powder
2 cloves garlic, minced
handful of ginger, grated
2/3 cup orange juice
2/3 cup chicken broth or stock
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground pepper
diced cilantro (optional)
Let's begin, shall we? First off, I usually grab three or four chicken breasts and poach them in boiling water for, oh, say 15 minutes, then I let 'em cool and slice 'em up and throw 'em in the crock pot. But have you ever tried to photograph raw chicken breasts? Not as fun as photographing real breasts, I can assure you. So let's just get on with the prettier stuff! Dice two medium-sized yellow onions. Like so:
Oh but wait, there's more! Onions, I mean. Slice up two green onions.
Throw all your onions in the crock pot and let's get cracking on the sweet potatoes. They're kind of a bastard because you gotta peel 'em, like this:
and then cut them into cubes, but man, are they worth it.
Now, grate a small handful of ginger right into the crock pot.
Did you know the super cool easy way to get the garlic cloves out of their papery skins? Just place a couple beneath your knife like so:
And then pound the knife with your fist like you're arguing with your husband and require pounding the coffee table for effect. Thusly:
The garlic cloves pop right out of their little garlic homes like little garlic nudists, see?
And then they're all ready to mince! Mince. That word makes me laugh. It's just so prissy.
Sorry about that last blurry photo but, well, it's hard to photograph and mince with wet hands. All right, all the choppy choppy is done! Now comes the easy pouring part. No, wait! Load in three teaspoons of curry powder! Now! Do it! After all, what is a curry without the curry?
Now just pour in about 2/3 a cup of chicken broth or stock and about the same amount of orange juice. I'm not real precise here with my measurements. In fact, last week I got crazy with the O.J. and it turned out great! Here, I'll show you!
Wait, don't stop now! There's more pouring to do. A whole can of coconut milk. Mmmmm yummy!
Okay, so I lied. You have to slice one more thing! But it's optional. If you feel like it, slice up some cilantro and throw it in! Because I'm not so hot with a knife I sometimes cheat and use scissors to cut the cilantro .
Now just sprinkle it into the crock pot!
Congratulations! You're done. Just salt and pepper and let it cook on low for six hours or so. You'll know when it's done. It looks like this!
Sorry about that black grouty stuff in my counter. It's just there all the time. I clean it a lot, I swear.
Enjoy! Now leave a comment and win a toaster!
Tuesday
17Nov2009
Just Another Fun Email From A Mormon
I'm here! And I have lots to tell you! Including another exciting giveaway. But I don't have time just this second. In the meantime, enjoy yet another fun email from a bigot calling me a bigot.
Subject: Cagey, old white dudes.
Subject: Cagey, old white dudes.
Really. Not only are you a religious bigot but age and gender bigot too? No, sorry girl, you do have issues. I re-read Apostle Oaks talk, and he sounds much more intelligent than you, and is far more tolerant towards others.*name changed
You don’t belong in the press, you belong in a bar.
*Brigham Christiansen
LDS through and through (old and white but not as cagey as you)
Thursday
12Nov2009
Cue The Violins
I always hesitate to write when I feel badly. It can be so exasperating to read someone's depressing blog, especially when, like me, they aren't going through anything that really warrants such tiresome blog posts. Or, if written properly, it can be something you relate to if, like me, you suffer an inclination towards depression. However, I have a feeling this ain't gonna be written with any particular eye towards relating, just an eye toward bitching.
I'm just having such a hard time, y'all.
See. How whiny was that? The answer is pretty whiny. Why the hard time, Monica? Your child is fantastic, you have a great job, yes, your husband is being kind of a douche lately although he would point the finger right back at you...so what's the big deal? What is your problem, lady? Why are you typing about yourself in the third person?
I don't know.
I do know I wish I could really wallow in my depression. You know, just really get into it like a pig in mud. I want to wear my depression like a winter parka so everyone can see. See me with my depression! See how sad I am! Are you worried about me? You should be! I'm deepreessssed. Instead I'm just guilt ridden for feeling down when other people have it a lot worse. I mean, did you see the lady that got attacked by the chimp on Oprah yesterday? That shit blew my mind. And I'm all upset? Whatevs, loser. At least you have a nose and a set of eyeballs. Unsettling shit. Except for Oprah. Fucking Oprah. That part in the middle of the interview when she's all "Here, let me just...you have a little something right here..." And she dabs at the faceless woman's face...wait, what? Okay, well, she dabs at where the woman's face used to be. That part? Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People. That bothered me as much as an episode of Entertainment Tonight in which Mary Hart drags a five minute interview with Jon Gosselin into a month of episodes. Coming up tomorrow, Jon tells us which Ed Hardy shirt is his favorite! You. Are. Going. To. Shit. Your. Pants when you see what he picks! (Da da da da da da <--Entertainment Tonight theme music) Or when Mary talks to "the amazing Cameron Diaz" about how daring and unafraid she is to do her own stunts while The Amazing Cameron grins modestly, like, yes I am fucking unbelievable, aren't I? And Mary Hart nearly tongue kisses her in her effort to keep Cam talking. Fuck Diaz. You want to see stunt? I'll show you stunt when I'm changing my child's shitty diaper while balancing her on my knee/against my body in an airplane bathroom that has no changing table. True story. That's a stunt. Driving a car while Tom Cruise is cabled to the top? Please.
By the way, that bit up there? About Oprah? How I described when she dabbed where the woman's face was with a tissue? I just reread it. "Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People." Brilliant shit. So descriptive. I am an amazing writer. Didn't that make you feel like you were right there? At the interview? God, I'm good.
If you ask me, Oprah jumped the shark after that road trip with Gail in '06, I think it was. When she didn't know how to pump gas and hadn't pumped gas since 1983. And we're supposed to watch and laugh as Oprah (she's so down to earth!) has to stay at motels/hotels normal folk make do with every damn day? Isn't it hi-fucking-larious to see Oprah at a Motel 6? And because she's so goddamn down to earth she visits diners and talks to townspeople all the while acting like she's in a foreign country (What is this menu item here? Jalapeno poppers? I've never heard of these jalapeno poppers) because Oprah? She doesn't usually do diners so isn't it SO awesomely funny to see her slumming? Fucking Oprah. Next!
Sorry. Not sure why I'm so mad at Oprah. I think it was the tissue with the chimp lady bit. Anyway. I'm not doing so good. But at least I have a face.
I'm just having such a hard time, y'all.
See. How whiny was that? The answer is pretty whiny. Why the hard time, Monica? Your child is fantastic, you have a great job, yes, your husband is being kind of a douche lately although he would point the finger right back at you...so what's the big deal? What is your problem, lady? Why are you typing about yourself in the third person?
I don't know.
I do know I wish I could really wallow in my depression. You know, just really get into it like a pig in mud. I want to wear my depression like a winter parka so everyone can see. See me with my depression! See how sad I am! Are you worried about me? You should be! I'm deepreessssed. Instead I'm just guilt ridden for feeling down when other people have it a lot worse. I mean, did you see the lady that got attacked by the chimp on Oprah yesterday? That shit blew my mind. And I'm all upset? Whatevs, loser. At least you have a nose and a set of eyeballs. Unsettling shit. Except for Oprah. Fucking Oprah. That part in the middle of the interview when she's all "Here, let me just...you have a little something right here..." And she dabs at the faceless woman's face...wait, what? Okay, well, she dabs at where the woman's face used to be. That part? Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People. That bothered me as much as an episode of Entertainment Tonight in which Mary Hart drags a five minute interview with Jon Gosselin into a month of episodes. Coming up tomorrow, Jon tells us which Ed Hardy shirt is his favorite! You. Are. Going. To. Shit. Your. Pants when you see what he picks! (Da da da da da da <--Entertainment Tonight theme music) Or when Mary talks to "the amazing Cameron Diaz" about how daring and unafraid she is to do her own stunts while The Amazing Cameron grins modestly, like, yes I am fucking unbelievable, aren't I? And Mary Hart nearly tongue kisses her in her effort to keep Cam talking. Fuck Diaz. You want to see stunt? I'll show you stunt when I'm changing my child's shitty diaper while balancing her on my knee/against my body in an airplane bathroom that has no changing table. True story. That's a stunt. Driving a car while Tom Cruise is cabled to the top? Please.
By the way, that bit up there? About Oprah? How I described when she dabbed where the woman's face was with a tissue? I just reread it. "Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People." Brilliant shit. So descriptive. I am an amazing writer. Didn't that make you feel like you were right there? At the interview? God, I'm good.
If you ask me, Oprah jumped the shark after that road trip with Gail in '06, I think it was. When she didn't know how to pump gas and hadn't pumped gas since 1983. And we're supposed to watch and laugh as Oprah (she's so down to earth!) has to stay at motels/hotels normal folk make do with every damn day? Isn't it hi-fucking-larious to see Oprah at a Motel 6? And because she's so goddamn down to earth she visits diners and talks to townspeople all the while acting like she's in a foreign country (What is this menu item here? Jalapeno poppers? I've never heard of these jalapeno poppers) because Oprah? She doesn't usually do diners so isn't it SO awesomely funny to see her slumming? Fucking Oprah. Next!
Sorry. Not sure why I'm so mad at Oprah. I think it was the tissue with the chimp lady bit. Anyway. I'm not doing so good. But at least I have a face.
Wednesday
11Nov2009
Motivational Math
It's been three months since this. I figure I've saved roughly $300. Just by not watching TV as much. I also stopped going for Subway sandwiches on my lunch break. God love the Five Dollar Foot Long. I'd say I spent at least $7 three times a week. At $21 dollars a week multiplied by about 14 weeks that's almost $300.
$600 SAVED. By doing nothing differently but packing a lunch from home and not watching so much HGTV.
In early October my total credit card debt was around $1,600. It is now $700.
Holla! Closing in, people, closing in!
$600 SAVED. By doing nothing differently but packing a lunch from home and not watching so much HGTV.
In early October my total credit card debt was around $1,600. It is now $700.
Holla! Closing in, people, closing in!
Tuesday
10Nov2009
Secondhand Style
I'm in kind of a loose, reckless mood this morning. One of those days when you just don't care and the mood can be dangerous to the career of one efforting the appearance of a responsible manager in the workplace.
Instead of dwelling on how tired I am and how I feel like I'm about to drown let us send this one in a positive direction, shall we? I have all these Secondhand Styles I've been meaning to post and just haven't got around to doing. As opposed to being the cheapest bargain out there I'm posting this one to illustrate multi-tasking with clothing. I am a rookie at this to be sure. Especially compared to this girl but I hope to get better at scouring my closet and pairing clothing I wouldn't normally put together to create new and interesting outfits out of old items.
$21
$26
You can find details on the first outfit here. In the second, the skinny jeans are from Wet Seal for $19.99. Honestly, I see no purpose in spending enormous amounts of cash on name brand jeans when you can find cheaper stuff that still fits great and can last as long as the pricey stuff. I bought the top/dress at the thrift store (Deseret Industries here in Utah) for $6. I've had the shoes for ages and can't remember where they come from so we can chalk those up to zero. Total for this easy and versatile ensemble is $26.
Instead of dwelling on how tired I am and how I feel like I'm about to drown let us send this one in a positive direction, shall we? I have all these Secondhand Styles I've been meaning to post and just haven't got around to doing. As opposed to being the cheapest bargain out there I'm posting this one to illustrate multi-tasking with clothing. I am a rookie at this to be sure. Especially compared to this girl but I hope to get better at scouring my closet and pairing clothing I wouldn't normally put together to create new and interesting outfits out of old items.
$21
$26
You can find details on the first outfit here. In the second, the skinny jeans are from Wet Seal for $19.99. Honestly, I see no purpose in spending enormous amounts of cash on name brand jeans when you can find cheaper stuff that still fits great and can last as long as the pricey stuff. I bought the top/dress at the thrift store (Deseret Industries here in Utah) for $6. I've had the shoes for ages and can't remember where they come from so we can chalk those up to zero. Total for this easy and versatile ensemble is $26.
Sunday
08Nov2009
Newsletter: Month Nine
Dear Violet,
I feel like a total failure as a parent. This letter is, like, two weeks late. I have no excuse. Life gets in the way yet I've still managed to find time to park it on the couch and stuff my face with quesadillas while watching Deadwood marathons with your Papa, so again, I have no excuse. Here's the thing: you're turning into such a big girl. I'm going through those emotions I'm sure every parent deals with, chiefly, what happened to my baby? One day you were this tiny, peanut and now you're a big girl, gleefully rolling all over the house in your walker, toes and paws of your loved ones be damned. In fact, I might go so far as to say you relish ramming into your loved ones and really, some days I can't say I blame you. If I could climb into a vehicle with wheels and ram straight into Pop sometimes I believe I would do the very same thing. And giggle madly, just like you do.
A friend at work recently had a baby who weighs the same as you did when you were born. He brought the little guy to work and I just stared at this newborn in wonder. Was my little Violet really that tiny? Holy cow! And if my little Violet was really that tiny and delicate how in God's name have we kept her alive all this time? Two blundering oafs like me and your Pop are sure to screw things up, right? You're likely reading this to pass the time in the future as your hover car takes you to Mars and are probably in psychotherapy because you contend that me and Pop DID screw you up. But seriously, we're doing our best here and so far, fingers crossed, we think we've done a marvelous job. Of course, that's mostly because you're totally the best baby ever. Which is kind of a bummer for the blog because I have nothing to rant about. I mean, can't you crank our some drama if only for blog material? But NO, you're just all the time happy with the gummy smiles and snorts.
There's this thing you do, when you get a kick our of something you kind of breathe in and out of your nose real hard so you snort every couple breaths and you smile so big. So I laugh and then you laugh because you've made me laugh and you end up snorting some more so I laugh some more and we just sit there laughing at each other like a couple a goons.
Uncle Dave sent you a copy of The Great Pumpkin in advance of Halloween and God bless Uncle Dave because I think your Pop and I were just kind of on autopilot with the Sign Language DVDs not realizing a better life was out there waiting to be lived. A life where Baaaaby, baaaaby, baby signing time!!! doesn't echo in our heads during every waking moment and accompany most dreams too. There I'd be, smoking hot, your Pop nowhere in sight, on the verge of meeting up with Brad Pitt in my dream, he reaches for me and, finally, we come together to a dramatic crescendo of Put your fingertips together for more, more, more!!! Baby Signing Time!!!
The horror.
We'd allowed the songs to seep into our existence and, like enormous butt zits, the singsonging awfulness you loved so much just became a painful part of life that we'd almost learned to ignore. We were resigned. And lo and behold The Great Pumpkin arrives and so it, instead of Baby Signing Time, was the soundtrack to our October because you love Charlie Brown. And we love that you love Charlie Brown. He is so much less offensive than Baby Signing Time. We're saving money on cotton swabs too because our ears have stopped bleeding.
God bless America and Charlie Brown.
This month we made the transition to big girl baths and you couldn't be happier. You'll sit in there until your little body prunes, chewing on washcloths, fiddling with this toy, jabbing that one and sucking on Rubber Ducky's beak. You'll vigorously do these activities as if you're on the payroll and were you to stop we would immediately cut off your supply of Lil Crunchies. I'll try to get your attention every now and again and you'll throw me a cursory glance like, Look Lady, cantcha see I'm busy here? I've got shit to do. I've gotta dunk Rubber Ducky, chaw on this washcloth some more and then try to turn on the hot water faucet again. Because even though you keep stopping me every five minutes, I've gotta try JUST ONE MORE TIME. So back off with your baby talk and snapping. This is Very Important Shit I'm doing here.
My favorite image of you, by far, this month is you standing at the edge of the tub waiting as it fills with water. Your little butt just kills me. How can thigh rolls, a chubby butt, elbow dimples and cankles be so cute on one person and so repulsive on another? Take it from me, enjoy the compliments on your chubby butt while you can, thigh rolls and cankles just don't have the same appeal on older women.
I repeat Mama to you as often as possible in the hope that it will be your first word so I can prove to Pop that yes, you do love me more. So far I've gotten some Mamamamamamamas and that's about it. But I am determined. Although I am sure Pop is up to big business when I'm at work, brainwashing you with all his Papa, Papa, Papa is better talk. Don't listen!
Sometimes I think about my life before I met you and it seems so gray. You bring technicolor to our world. You make every day challenging yet beautiful. You're teaching Pop and I to be better people, to slow down and realize how wondrous the small things can be. To just sit and look out our big front window at the world going by is something I never really did before. Now I'm watching the birds, listening to the wind rustle the leaves, pointing out pretty colors and describing the wonderful world to you. This is something I needed. As an alleged adult that can be easy to forget sometimes. So thanks, peanut, thanks for showing me the beauty again.
Love,
Mama
I feel like a total failure as a parent. This letter is, like, two weeks late. I have no excuse. Life gets in the way yet I've still managed to find time to park it on the couch and stuff my face with quesadillas while watching Deadwood marathons with your Papa, so again, I have no excuse. Here's the thing: you're turning into such a big girl. I'm going through those emotions I'm sure every parent deals with, chiefly, what happened to my baby? One day you were this tiny, peanut and now you're a big girl, gleefully rolling all over the house in your walker, toes and paws of your loved ones be damned. In fact, I might go so far as to say you relish ramming into your loved ones and really, some days I can't say I blame you. If I could climb into a vehicle with wheels and ram straight into Pop sometimes I believe I would do the very same thing. And giggle madly, just like you do.
A friend at work recently had a baby who weighs the same as you did when you were born. He brought the little guy to work and I just stared at this newborn in wonder. Was my little Violet really that tiny? Holy cow! And if my little Violet was really that tiny and delicate how in God's name have we kept her alive all this time? Two blundering oafs like me and your Pop are sure to screw things up, right? You're likely reading this to pass the time in the future as your hover car takes you to Mars and are probably in psychotherapy because you contend that me and Pop DID screw you up. But seriously, we're doing our best here and so far, fingers crossed, we think we've done a marvelous job. Of course, that's mostly because you're totally the best baby ever. Which is kind of a bummer for the blog because I have nothing to rant about. I mean, can't you crank our some drama if only for blog material? But NO, you're just all the time happy with the gummy smiles and snorts.
There's this thing you do, when you get a kick our of something you kind of breathe in and out of your nose real hard so you snort every couple breaths and you smile so big. So I laugh and then you laugh because you've made me laugh and you end up snorting some more so I laugh some more and we just sit there laughing at each other like a couple a goons.
Uncle Dave sent you a copy of The Great Pumpkin in advance of Halloween and God bless Uncle Dave because I think your Pop and I were just kind of on autopilot with the Sign Language DVDs not realizing a better life was out there waiting to be lived. A life where Baaaaby, baaaaby, baby signing time!!! doesn't echo in our heads during every waking moment and accompany most dreams too. There I'd be, smoking hot, your Pop nowhere in sight, on the verge of meeting up with Brad Pitt in my dream, he reaches for me and, finally, we come together to a dramatic crescendo of Put your fingertips together for more, more, more!!! Baby Signing Time!!!
The horror.
We'd allowed the songs to seep into our existence and, like enormous butt zits, the singsonging awfulness you loved so much just became a painful part of life that we'd almost learned to ignore. We were resigned. And lo and behold The Great Pumpkin arrives and so it, instead of Baby Signing Time, was the soundtrack to our October because you love Charlie Brown. And we love that you love Charlie Brown. He is so much less offensive than Baby Signing Time. We're saving money on cotton swabs too because our ears have stopped bleeding.
God bless America and Charlie Brown.
This month we made the transition to big girl baths and you couldn't be happier. You'll sit in there until your little body prunes, chewing on washcloths, fiddling with this toy, jabbing that one and sucking on Rubber Ducky's beak. You'll vigorously do these activities as if you're on the payroll and were you to stop we would immediately cut off your supply of Lil Crunchies. I'll try to get your attention every now and again and you'll throw me a cursory glance like, Look Lady, cantcha see I'm busy here? I've got shit to do. I've gotta dunk Rubber Ducky, chaw on this washcloth some more and then try to turn on the hot water faucet again. Because even though you keep stopping me every five minutes, I've gotta try JUST ONE MORE TIME. So back off with your baby talk and snapping. This is Very Important Shit I'm doing here.
My favorite image of you, by far, this month is you standing at the edge of the tub waiting as it fills with water. Your little butt just kills me. How can thigh rolls, a chubby butt, elbow dimples and cankles be so cute on one person and so repulsive on another? Take it from me, enjoy the compliments on your chubby butt while you can, thigh rolls and cankles just don't have the same appeal on older women.
I repeat Mama to you as often as possible in the hope that it will be your first word so I can prove to Pop that yes, you do love me more. So far I've gotten some Mamamamamamamas and that's about it. But I am determined. Although I am sure Pop is up to big business when I'm at work, brainwashing you with all his Papa, Papa, Papa is better talk. Don't listen!
Sometimes I think about my life before I met you and it seems so gray. You bring technicolor to our world. You make every day challenging yet beautiful. You're teaching Pop and I to be better people, to slow down and realize how wondrous the small things can be. To just sit and look out our big front window at the world going by is something I never really did before. Now I'm watching the birds, listening to the wind rustle the leaves, pointing out pretty colors and describing the wonderful world to you. This is something I needed. As an alleged adult that can be easy to forget sometimes. So thanks, peanut, thanks for showing me the beauty again.
Love,
Mama