Because things have been going almost too well, I thought I should make a grocery list that covered two weeks and take the kids to get groceries after school. Three and a half hours in the store was a little too much to ask, especially in the midst of the Christmas/rush hour crowds.
My family is very jokey. We crack ourselves up with comedic genius, such as answering every comment with "Your face." (I'll pause while you compose yourself. Being exposed to such hilarity can be dangerous.) So, at the store, our second cart was nearly halfway full and a woman needed something on the other side of it. I offered to move, and she smiled and sweetly said, "You're fine, honey. I'm going to just reach across and I'll be out of your way." My sweet, quiet, and ever so up-on-the-slang five year old said, "Your face gets out of my way."
Oh yes he did.
I froze.
"DONOVAN! WHAT did you just say?"
"I said 'your face gets out of my way.'"
"WHY?!?!?!?!"
"I was joking. It was funny. 'Your face gets out of my way.' That's funny."
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 15, 2012
iPad Parenting and Sir Reachy Head
On Thursday, Madilynn had her second grade school program. I was only 45 minutes early, which meant I had to sit in the second to back row, because my children attend a school full of children whose parents are a tad psychotic about loving to stand in lines for hours and be crazy early for stuff. I am not that sort of parent, I like to be crazy late, but this time, I swear I was early and I still couldn't get a good seat.
So my family and I hog up an entire row of seats, and then this smaller family sits in front of us. But they weren't smaller in size, just in number. Well all right, fine. They were skinnier, too. But the man with them was terribly tall and he was also extremely reachy.
What I mean is, out of all seven of our seats, I couldn't find one to sit in so that I could see around this man. Seven seats, you guys. He was a super villain, too. Because no matter which direction I leaned, he leaned the same way at the exact same time. And he couldn't see me. I am typically pretty patient, except for anything that has to do with school, so maybe that played a role here, but it took him less than three minutes to thoroughly piss me off. And it wasn't like slight annoyance I was feeling. It was rage. I hated that guy. I still hate that guy. That guy and his reachy head haunt me.
So then, when the program started, I was trying to sort of extend my vision in an impossible arc, over the guy's head and back down onto the stage, when I was met with this view:
This is a very high-quality photograph of exactly what happened, as you can see, lest you be tempted to doubt my story.
If you look real close at that one dude's iPad, you can see my daughter in the video he's taking. Lesson learned: when you live in an affluent school district, you will not be able to watch your kid in a school play live, however if you squint, you can watch them on the iPad of the parent in front.
This is another pet peeve of mine. I love technology and gadgets. If I had the money, I would so own an iPad, and probably a mini one and I'd be on the waiting list for iPad 27 or whatever it ends up being called by then. But honestly, I don't want to live my life in digital. If my kid is doing something cute or amazing, or more likely completely bad, I want to be there in the moment and experience it - not watch it through a 4 inch screen. And especially not through a tiny screen I don't even own.
I propose a segregation. (That's right. I do. I realized it the moment I typed it, but I'm too lazy for backspacing so just hear me out on this.) I propose that iPad Parents sit on one side, and Real Life Parents sit on the other side. This means two things. One, I will not be forced into iPad Parenting; and two, I will have one side of the cafeteria/theater all to myself.
Oh, and bonus point: Sir Reachy Head is on the iPad side. (Like I had to tell you, amirite?)
So my family and I hog up an entire row of seats, and then this smaller family sits in front of us. But they weren't smaller in size, just in number. Well all right, fine. They were skinnier, too. But the man with them was terribly tall and he was also extremely reachy.
What I mean is, out of all seven of our seats, I couldn't find one to sit in so that I could see around this man. Seven seats, you guys. He was a super villain, too. Because no matter which direction I leaned, he leaned the same way at the exact same time. And he couldn't see me. I am typically pretty patient, except for anything that has to do with school, so maybe that played a role here, but it took him less than three minutes to thoroughly piss me off. And it wasn't like slight annoyance I was feeling. It was rage. I hated that guy. I still hate that guy. That guy and his reachy head haunt me.
So then, when the program started, I was trying to sort of extend my vision in an impossible arc, over the guy's head and back down onto the stage, when I was met with this view:
If you look real close at that one dude's iPad, you can see my daughter in the video he's taking. Lesson learned: when you live in an affluent school district, you will not be able to watch your kid in a school play live, however if you squint, you can watch them on the iPad of the parent in front.
This is another pet peeve of mine. I love technology and gadgets. If I had the money, I would so own an iPad, and probably a mini one and I'd be on the waiting list for iPad 27 or whatever it ends up being called by then. But honestly, I don't want to live my life in digital. If my kid is doing something cute or amazing, or more likely completely bad, I want to be there in the moment and experience it - not watch it through a 4 inch screen. And especially not through a tiny screen I don't even own.
I propose a segregation. (That's right. I do. I realized it the moment I typed it, but I'm too lazy for backspacing so just hear me out on this.) I propose that iPad Parents sit on one side, and Real Life Parents sit on the other side. This means two things. One, I will not be forced into iPad Parenting; and two, I will have one side of the cafeteria/theater all to myself.
Oh, and bonus point: Sir Reachy Head is on the iPad side. (Like I had to tell you, amirite?)
Dec 14, 2012
Today
There are many times throughout the last eleven years when I have sworn to never be in a car with my children again. It started with my oldest, who cried every second he spent even near a car seat, and went through Emma, who liked to spend car trips bursting ear drums with her screaming.
Through these years, I have dealt with kids who won't keep a seat belt on, who lean out windows and tell policemen I'm buying drugs, who reach up from the back seat and pull siblings' hair right out of their heads. And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.
But let me tell you about today. Today, I was early in the line to get my kids from school.
Today, as I sat waiting in the street, there was a police truck parked in the grass at the front of the school.
Today, the principle was standing in the front of the school, speaking to each daycare bus driver.
Today, as I saw the teacher who announces that my children should come outside, the teacher who always had a smile for everybody, she wouldn't meet my eyes.
Today, as I rounded the corner of the school, instead of the usual sight of five little people joyfully bounding to my car, I saw a policeman guarding the door.
Today, parents rolled down their windows and thanked him for being there.
Today, my little bundles of glee were led by the hand to my car, and passed to me by a somber but kind teacher, who understood that it was not a day for discussing homework or missing library books.
Today, as my children piled in the car on top of each other, shouting the news of the day all at once, my eyes welled up with tears.
Today, I stopped halfway though to the loop and twisted around to the back seat to give them each a hug.
Today, while they fought over space in the seat, pulled hair, and complained about homework, I thanked God for every sound they made.
Today, I drove a little more slowly, savoring this time of closeness, forced by the confines of the car.
Today, choked on tears every time one of my babies said "Mommy."
Today, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that my kids are coming home for the weekend.
Today, I am on my knees in grief for the mommies who dropped their babies off this morning, only to never see them again.
Today, housework and homework and trifles of the week fall away, dimmed by the brightly shining importance of this moment now.
Today, I pray for those students who have lived through an ordeal that no child should ever be able to imagine, let alone experience.
Today, I hope for comfort for the teachers, the emergency crews, the support staff, and every mom, dad, brother, and sister in Newtown, CT.
Today is not a day for more division in America. Today is a day for unity and purpose.
Today, I will wipe tears from eyes with every glance at my children, and I am aware that each moment with them is dear.
Today, I wish I could wrap my arms around the parents who lost their precious kindergarteners, and whose children spent their school day filled with terror. And I wish that it would help.
Today, I know I join thousands of other parents as I hug my kids a little tighter, whisper a prayer for their protection, and face the reality that we just never know.
Today, I have not lost hope, but I pray for mercy.
Today is a different story, one that, to some degree, will change all the stories to come.
Lord, have mercy on us all.
Through these years, I have dealt with kids who won't keep a seat belt on, who lean out windows and tell policemen I'm buying drugs, who reach up from the back seat and pull siblings' hair right out of their heads. And the screaming. Oh, the screaming.
But let me tell you about today. Today, I was early in the line to get my kids from school.
Today, as I sat waiting in the street, there was a police truck parked in the grass at the front of the school.
Today, the principle was standing in the front of the school, speaking to each daycare bus driver.
Today, as I saw the teacher who announces that my children should come outside, the teacher who always had a smile for everybody, she wouldn't meet my eyes.
Today, as I rounded the corner of the school, instead of the usual sight of five little people joyfully bounding to my car, I saw a policeman guarding the door.
Today, parents rolled down their windows and thanked him for being there.
Today, my little bundles of glee were led by the hand to my car, and passed to me by a somber but kind teacher, who understood that it was not a day for discussing homework or missing library books.
Today, as my children piled in the car on top of each other, shouting the news of the day all at once, my eyes welled up with tears.
Today, I stopped halfway though to the loop and twisted around to the back seat to give them each a hug.
Today, while they fought over space in the seat, pulled hair, and complained about homework, I thanked God for every sound they made.
Today, I drove a little more slowly, savoring this time of closeness, forced by the confines of the car.
Today, choked on tears every time one of my babies said "Mommy."
Today, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that my kids are coming home for the weekend.
Today, I am on my knees in grief for the mommies who dropped their babies off this morning, only to never see them again.
Today, housework and homework and trifles of the week fall away, dimmed by the brightly shining importance of this moment now.
Today, I pray for those students who have lived through an ordeal that no child should ever be able to imagine, let alone experience.
Today, I hope for comfort for the teachers, the emergency crews, the support staff, and every mom, dad, brother, and sister in Newtown, CT.
Today is not a day for more division in America. Today is a day for unity and purpose.
Today, I will wipe tears from eyes with every glance at my children, and I am aware that each moment with them is dear.
Today, I wish I could wrap my arms around the parents who lost their precious kindergarteners, and whose children spent their school day filled with terror. And I wish that it would help.
Today, I know I join thousands of other parents as I hug my kids a little tighter, whisper a prayer for their protection, and face the reality that we just never know.
Today, I have not lost hope, but I pray for mercy.
Today is a different story, one that, to some degree, will change all the stories to come.
Lord, have mercy on us all.
Jul 14, 2012
I Can't Haz Internetz
I got up far too early this morning and had time to browse through some of my old favorite blogs, but I was disappointed to find that most of them had quit publishing - ALL of them due to depression. I am not going to trivialize the true issues that people who deal with depression face, but this is a long story so I have to basically skip to the part where I became super self-absorbed.
See, after seeing all of this from some of the funniest women I know (of), it reminded me that brilliant and hilarious people are often faced with very tough issues, and many of them suffer from some sort of mental illness. So...obviously I started to get all OHNOI'MDEPRESSEDNOWIKNOWIT! Not because I'm brilliant or hilarious, but because I also have a blog. (Logic.)
Fast forward a few hours, I'm watching a movie on Netflix with my sons, and THE INTERNETZ BROKE. I realized a few days ago how web-addicted I am, but I quickly justified it with the fact that I literally have no job if I don't have you, Internetz. The fact that I do half my reading, all of my TV watching and news consumption, and about 90% of my socializing online is a job hazard. Right? Right.....?
So when the ZOMGINTERNETZBROKE of 2012 happened, I may have tweaked out. Only a little. I spent hours on the phone with the ISP. Again, this could be its own blog post (or its own entire blog) but this is a long story already. At the end of all this time, the man said that my modem was broken...surprise! It broke exactly one week To The Hour past my warranty. Coincidence? Maybe. But the same thing happened with my router a few months ago so I think not.
I decided to just go to bed. But then I remembered the whole depression thing and I thought "OH NOES! If I just go to bed, that's the first step to me waking up to no Internetz tomorrow, then I won't want any Internetz because it's Sunday, so I'll wake up on Monday with no Internetz and I'll get fired for not working and lose all my friends and I won't know what's going on in the world and never watch TV again and make drastically long run-on sentences....it's BEGINNING!
So about an hour past the time the boys should've been in bed, I load them up in the car and run to Walmart for a modem. (What? I hate Walmart? Why yes I do - but who else would have one tonight?) They had cable modems. Waaayyyy back on the shelf, all dusty and lonely, I found a dial-up modem. But I am apparently the last person on Earth using DSL.
After all of that, I wanted to get myself a little surprise for my trouble, so I walked around literally searching for one tiny thing in the entire store that I wanted. I found a red trashcan. And shampoo. Three dollars total, and I hated Walmart even more for not having stuff I wanted to waste money on. But they had one lane open and 20 people standing in it, so I shouted, "Let's go boys! We'll shop with people who know how to manage a store!" And my sons weren't embarrassed at all.
We went to Target. No DSL there, either. I didn't even bother wasting money there, because I already know Target has All The Things I Want.
I was already a little mad at the ISP guy on the phone, because from where he was in India, he could see my modem, and from where I was at my desk, I could see it. (By see it, I mean it was a "recognized" device.) So at what point was it "broken"?
See, internet is just exactly like plumbing. You get Internetz (water) through the cable running into your house. Then some more cables (just like pipes) take the Internetz to the modem, which is like a valve. If the valve were clogged, you wouldn't be able to see through it. But I could see right through the modem. Anyway, the modem sends Internetz on to a router, which is basically the sprinkler system, and the router showers Internetz all over your house. They are then collected in the "sinks" - your various devices, such as laptops and whatnot.
Incidentally, that's why it took us awhile to get cloud-computing...one day it got real hot and a bunch of Internetz evaporated and made a cloud we can put cool stuff in.
Anyway, because I could see through the valve, I should've had Internetz running freely to my router. But I didn't. You know how your water dude can shut off your water at the meter? That's a valve. (I think - I'm sorta making this up in case you couldn't tell.) When I came home from Target, Internetz were ALL OVER my floor because the modem had magically started working and was leaking everywhere because I hadn't bothered to plug it back into the router.
So what happened, ISP? Were you so interested in using this phone call to sell me a new modem that you didn't think to wait to turn the valve back on until AFTER I had actually bought one? I want to know.
The moral of the story is that I would've battled my make-believe depression much better if it weren't for my ISP and Walmart. Thanks a lot, guys.
And please keep my blogger friends in your prayers - if they don't bring the funny back, it's going to be left to people like me, and I don't want to be responsible for breaking the Internetz.
See, after seeing all of this from some of the funniest women I know (of), it reminded me that brilliant and hilarious people are often faced with very tough issues, and many of them suffer from some sort of mental illness. So...obviously I started to get all OHNOI'MDEPRESSEDNOWIKNOWIT! Not because I'm brilliant or hilarious, but because I also have a blog. (Logic.)
Fast forward a few hours, I'm watching a movie on Netflix with my sons, and THE INTERNETZ BROKE. I realized a few days ago how web-addicted I am, but I quickly justified it with the fact that I literally have no job if I don't have you, Internetz. The fact that I do half my reading, all of my TV watching and news consumption, and about 90% of my socializing online is a job hazard. Right? Right.....?
So when the ZOMGINTERNETZBROKE of 2012 happened, I may have tweaked out. Only a little. I spent hours on the phone with the ISP. Again, this could be its own blog post (or its own entire blog) but this is a long story already. At the end of all this time, the man said that my modem was broken...surprise! It broke exactly one week To The Hour past my warranty. Coincidence? Maybe. But the same thing happened with my router a few months ago so I think not.
I decided to just go to bed. But then I remembered the whole depression thing and I thought "OH NOES! If I just go to bed, that's the first step to me waking up to no Internetz tomorrow, then I won't want any Internetz because it's Sunday, so I'll wake up on Monday with no Internetz and I'll get fired for not working and lose all my friends and I won't know what's going on in the world and never watch TV again and make drastically long run-on sentences....it's BEGINNING!
So about an hour past the time the boys should've been in bed, I load them up in the car and run to Walmart for a modem. (What? I hate Walmart? Why yes I do - but who else would have one tonight?) They had cable modems. Waaayyyy back on the shelf, all dusty and lonely, I found a dial-up modem. But I am apparently the last person on Earth using DSL.
After all of that, I wanted to get myself a little surprise for my trouble, so I walked around literally searching for one tiny thing in the entire store that I wanted. I found a red trashcan. And shampoo. Three dollars total, and I hated Walmart even more for not having stuff I wanted to waste money on. But they had one lane open and 20 people standing in it, so I shouted, "Let's go boys! We'll shop with people who know how to manage a store!" And my sons weren't embarrassed at all.
We went to Target. No DSL there, either. I didn't even bother wasting money there, because I already know Target has All The Things I Want.
I was already a little mad at the ISP guy on the phone, because from where he was in India, he could see my modem, and from where I was at my desk, I could see it. (By see it, I mean it was a "recognized" device.) So at what point was it "broken"?
See, internet is just exactly like plumbing. You get Internetz (water) through the cable running into your house. Then some more cables (just like pipes) take the Internetz to the modem, which is like a valve. If the valve were clogged, you wouldn't be able to see through it. But I could see right through the modem. Anyway, the modem sends Internetz on to a router, which is basically the sprinkler system, and the router showers Internetz all over your house. They are then collected in the "sinks" - your various devices, such as laptops and whatnot.
Incidentally, that's why it took us awhile to get cloud-computing...one day it got real hot and a bunch of Internetz evaporated and made a cloud we can put cool stuff in.
Anyway, because I could see through the valve, I should've had Internetz running freely to my router. But I didn't. You know how your water dude can shut off your water at the meter? That's a valve. (I think - I'm sorta making this up in case you couldn't tell.) When I came home from Target, Internetz were ALL OVER my floor because the modem had magically started working and was leaking everywhere because I hadn't bothered to plug it back into the router.
So what happened, ISP? Were you so interested in using this phone call to sell me a new modem that you didn't think to wait to turn the valve back on until AFTER I had actually bought one? I want to know.
The moral of the story is that I would've battled my make-believe depression much better if it weren't for my ISP and Walmart. Thanks a lot, guys.
And please keep my blogger friends in your prayers - if they don't bring the funny back, it's going to be left to people like me, and I don't want to be responsible for breaking the Internetz.
Jun 27, 2012
Official Rules of Social Networking: Part2
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| photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net |
The long-anticipated (hush, you know you were anticipating) "Part 2".
I am angry at (insert name), he/she doesn't read my blog, and I'd like to write a tell-all post about them so my followers will write me nice, supportive comments about what a wonderful person I am. Is that allowed?
No, Internetz. Please stop typing while angry. I beg of you, this has to end. Think of the object of your rage, and imagine reading your post to them in a room full of their friends and also the rest of the world. If you wouldn't do that, don't write it. You may think they don't read your blog, and perhaps they don't. But never rule out Kevin Bacon. Sometime, somewhere, somebody will read that post and know who you've scorned. Links are easy to share. The person you've roasted in your blog WILL eventually read it. If you think I'm lying, call the last person you complained about on the Internet. Was that call uncomfortable? They know.
I'd like to tell My Personal Story on my blog. Is that all right?
Of course you can tell your story. That's what blogs are, a one-sided spotlight on YOU and how WONDERFUL you are! (Not this one, though - THIS blog is saving the world.) Just remember the above rule. If you want to lash out at someone in the midst of your personal story, they will see it.
Is it all right to post to all of my social networking accounts at once?
Convenient as this may seem, you really should never do this. Especially if you are on LinkedIn. I have a LinkedIn connection who constantly updates on the #BestCheeseburger and #whateverhe'sdoinginthebathroom. Twitter may care about this. Facebook doesn't. And I'm sure future employers on LinkedIn are running the other direction. (Don't worry, guys, he doesn't read my blog.)
Does Facebook care about my privacy?
No. Nobody in the world but you cares about your privacy. You know those pesky Terms of Use nobody ever reads? Anything you put on a social network is public. Here's what I can see about people I don't know on Facebook:
- where they live
- where they work
- who they're "in a relationship" with and every listed family member
- all friends
- photos
- every group they belong to, who added them (or if they requested to join), and how long they've been a member
- the address to their (gasp!) blog
This is all I have left, the rest is common sense. (Grammar, though - for real.) (Also spelling.)
May 20, 2012
Another Actual Letter to Walmart
Don't let your children read this post, because that would completely defy the point and I would be getting angry letters from the internets and I just don't want that.
Dear Walmart,
For years, I have been shopping in your store. It isn't fun, but more of a necessary evil. I faithfully come in and spend hundreds of dollars per week on things my family needs, and occasionally things they want.
Lately, I have considered switching to Target because they have wider aisles and I don't get all stabby trying to find things I need. But I'm a loyal person, so I wouldn't do you that way, Walmart, I wouldn't.
I went back to your store today, and I had to wait in line for a very long time to check out. It was the weekend, I can understand that. I can also understand why you insist on placing candy and crazy-expensive pieces of junk that pass as toys where my children can see and desire them while I wait. Marketing is marketing, right? I get it.
But I have some questions for you, Walmart. Well, in truth, my children have some questions for you. Ok, to be perfectly honest, they had questions for me, but I am passing them along to you to answer, because it seems you were trying to elicit them in the first place.
Here is what they want to know:
What are "positions" and why are they so hot?
Why is that large woman wearing a lace bathing suit and climbing on that surprised looking man?
Can they please have that wildlife book? Ya' know, the one that has "Wild Stories" if you can just get past the boobies on the cover?
What is sex, anyway, Walmart? We want to know.
Why is this a bad time to ask?
What do guys want when the pants hit the floor?
Who is hitting the floor with pants, anyway?
:::read this very loudly Walmart. Seriously, if you think what I'm talking about is not a big deal, stand up in your cubicle and read these questions in the loudest voice possible, because that's how it went down for me::: TELL US, WALMART! WHAT IS WILD SEX??????
And one question from me, Walmart - why are magazines like Good Housekeeping or Hunting up on my eye level, while my kids are reading this:
Thank you for providing me the opportunity to break my customer loyalty and switch to Target. I do hope you realize that I am famous on the internet (over 20 people know who I am, Walmart. Twenty.)
All my love and affection (which now belongs to Target),
MannyRee
Dear Walmart,
For years, I have been shopping in your store. It isn't fun, but more of a necessary evil. I faithfully come in and spend hundreds of dollars per week on things my family needs, and occasionally things they want.
Lately, I have considered switching to Target because they have wider aisles and I don't get all stabby trying to find things I need. But I'm a loyal person, so I wouldn't do you that way, Walmart, I wouldn't.
I went back to your store today, and I had to wait in line for a very long time to check out. It was the weekend, I can understand that. I can also understand why you insist on placing candy and crazy-expensive pieces of junk that pass as toys where my children can see and desire them while I wait. Marketing is marketing, right? I get it.
But I have some questions for you, Walmart. Well, in truth, my children have some questions for you. Ok, to be perfectly honest, they had questions for me, but I am passing them along to you to answer, because it seems you were trying to elicit them in the first place.
Here is what they want to know:
What are "positions" and why are they so hot?
Why is that large woman wearing a lace bathing suit and climbing on that surprised looking man?
Can they please have that wildlife book? Ya' know, the one that has "Wild Stories" if you can just get past the boobies on the cover?
What is sex, anyway, Walmart? We want to know.
Why is this a bad time to ask?
What do guys want when the pants hit the floor?
Who is hitting the floor with pants, anyway?
:::read this very loudly Walmart. Seriously, if you think what I'm talking about is not a big deal, stand up in your cubicle and read these questions in the loudest voice possible, because that's how it went down for me::: TELL US, WALMART! WHAT IS WILD SEX??????
And one question from me, Walmart - why are magazines like Good Housekeeping or Hunting up on my eye level, while my kids are reading this:
All my love and affection (which now belongs to Target),
MannyRee
May 11, 2012
This is MY Fire, You Guys.
I was driving home from taking the kids to school this morning, and in front of me I saw this:
Well, not exactly this, but something similar. You know, your classic truck with a fire in the back kind of thing. This is more of a bad photo-edit version of what I saw.
So I did what anyone would do in my situation. I posted this photo so that we may have a caption contest. The winner gets my undying admiration. Yay, Winner!
This has already been an ongoing text conversation all day, so I'll get you started. But I expect your captions. Post them on the Facebook page if you want people to see them, or you can post them below and I will see them.
"Yeah. No big deal. Just drivin' around with my fire. I just need to take my fire to a different place. There isn't fire at this other place."
"See y'all later. Me and mah fire are hittin' the road."
"Yeah guys, y'all suck and this party sucks! I'm leaving...and I'm takin the fire with me! C'mon fire, we're gonna go find a better party!" (Twon)
"Some kids have a security blanket, I have my fire. Shutup."
I know my readers are funneh - so you better show up me and my brother in the comments.
Oh, and nobody was hurt in the making of this blog, the driving of this fire, or the posting of these captions.
Well, not exactly this, but something similar. You know, your classic truck with a fire in the back kind of thing. This is more of a bad photo-edit version of what I saw.
So I did what anyone would do in my situation. I posted this photo so that we may have a caption contest. The winner gets my undying admiration. Yay, Winner!
This has already been an ongoing text conversation all day, so I'll get you started. But I expect your captions. Post them on the Facebook page if you want people to see them, or you can post them below and I will see them.
"Yeah. No big deal. Just drivin' around with my fire. I just need to take my fire to a different place. There isn't fire at this other place."
"See y'all later. Me and mah fire are hittin' the road."
"Yeah guys, y'all suck and this party sucks! I'm leaving...and I'm takin the fire with me! C'mon fire, we're gonna go find a better party!" (Twon)
"Some kids have a security blanket, I have my fire. Shutup."
I know my readers are funneh - so you better show up me and my brother in the comments.
Oh, and nobody was hurt in the making of this blog, the driving of this fire, or the posting of these captions.
May 7, 2012
Official Rules of Social Networking: Part One
Now that I am an expert on all things social media, I have decided to take the time to answer all of the pressing questions I never receive on its use.
You are always so busy - why would you take the time to answer our unasked questions?
You're right. I am really busy. But it throws off my entire focus when I see you making huge mistakes, Internet. Mistakes that could cost you your reputation, your career, even your entire future. Possibly your life. But the life-losing mistakes aren't funny, so we won't discuss those here.
What is the number one social networking mistake?
Angry posts, my friend, angry posts. I guess it's evolution, but there is a new chemical, called psychopostaragenum, that is released in the brain during moments of extreme rage. It causes humans to go straight to their favorite online public forum and say everything they think. The problem here is that humans have never been known for their clear-thinking during moments such as these. Other effects of psychopostaragenum are typing in all caps, atrocious acts of violence against grammar and spelling, and passive-aggressive use of the "like" button.
How do we combat the effects of psychopostaragenum?
It is very difficult for most people to have any control over this. Keep a note on your computer monitor that has this mantra printed on it: Don't whine on Facebook. Don't yell on Twitter. Everyone hates that and I sound like a total jerk. It doesn't matter if I'm right if I look like a moron. Repeat this line over and over to yourself when you begin to feel angry. It probably won't work, but *I* feel better now that you've been called the proper names.
When is it ok to sneakily photograph a stranger for the purpose of laughing over that person with your friends?
I'm so glad this question got asked, Internet. So. Glad. It is always ok to do this - you will not go to jail for it. You will, however, show all of your friends that you are indeed made out of dog-farts. Think about what this says to the general public. You may as well post a status that says "I am so insecure that I am still teasing others to feel better about myself. Not only did I not learn in kindergarten that bullying is wrong, but I feel the need to make it public so that you may all see the exact extent of my dog-fartness." So go ahead. Do that. Just remember that future employers, your parents and grandparents, your love interest, and possibly even your clergy are watching you, and you've just begged for a karma-kick.
At what point is it acceptable to complain about my job?
At the exact moment that you wish to be unemployed.
Hashtags: Yes or No?
No. Just stop this. Hashtags only work on Twitter. You may use one - two under extreme duress. A funny hashtag on another site is acceptable only if it passes the hilarity test (three likes in three seconds). If it does not, remove that thing. Right now.
Social networking rules are so thorough and changing all the time. Is there anything we ARE allowed to say?
No.
Now shhhh.....
You are always so busy - why would you take the time to answer our unasked questions?
You're right. I am really busy. But it throws off my entire focus when I see you making huge mistakes, Internet. Mistakes that could cost you your reputation, your career, even your entire future. Possibly your life. But the life-losing mistakes aren't funny, so we won't discuss those here.
What is the number one social networking mistake?
Angry posts, my friend, angry posts. I guess it's evolution, but there is a new chemical, called psychopostaragenum, that is released in the brain during moments of extreme rage. It causes humans to go straight to their favorite online public forum and say everything they think. The problem here is that humans have never been known for their clear-thinking during moments such as these. Other effects of psychopostaragenum are typing in all caps, atrocious acts of violence against grammar and spelling, and passive-aggressive use of the "like" button.
How do we combat the effects of psychopostaragenum?
It is very difficult for most people to have any control over this. Keep a note on your computer monitor that has this mantra printed on it: Don't whine on Facebook. Don't yell on Twitter. Everyone hates that and I sound like a total jerk. It doesn't matter if I'm right if I look like a moron. Repeat this line over and over to yourself when you begin to feel angry. It probably won't work, but *I* feel better now that you've been called the proper names.
When is it ok to sneakily photograph a stranger for the purpose of laughing over that person with your friends?
I'm so glad this question got asked, Internet. So. Glad. It is always ok to do this - you will not go to jail for it. You will, however, show all of your friends that you are indeed made out of dog-farts. Think about what this says to the general public. You may as well post a status that says "I am so insecure that I am still teasing others to feel better about myself. Not only did I not learn in kindergarten that bullying is wrong, but I feel the need to make it public so that you may all see the exact extent of my dog-fartness." So go ahead. Do that. Just remember that future employers, your parents and grandparents, your love interest, and possibly even your clergy are watching you, and you've just begged for a karma-kick.
At what point is it acceptable to complain about my job?
At the exact moment that you wish to be unemployed.
Hashtags: Yes or No?
No. Just stop this. Hashtags only work on Twitter. You may use one - two under extreme duress. A funny hashtag on another site is acceptable only if it passes the hilarity test (three likes in three seconds). If it does not, remove that thing. Right now.
Social networking rules are so thorough and changing all the time. Is there anything we ARE allowed to say?
No.
Now shhhh.....
Apr 8, 2012
Marriage, Pregnancy, and Cadbury Eggs
For the last six or seven years, life has happened so quickly that I haven't really had time to process it. This has caused me to recall strange but recent memories in the same way I remember random things from my childhood. I will be cooking dinner and have a wave of nostalgia, then remember I already cooked dinner two hours ago and now it's time to put the kids to bed.
Last night was the Easter Vigil, and I'm sure I have written (and many others have written) lots of stories about taking small children to midnight mass. Instead, I'll sum up. Taking small children to church for three hours in the middle of the night and expecting them to be still and quiet is like - well, exactly how it sounds. You may as well just lay in the dirt and TELL your kids to kick your butt.
So late last night, driving home with blessedly sleeping kiddos in the back of the truck, I remembered that my sister and I used to go the week before Easter and buy a Cadbury Egg to have when we got home from midnight mass. It was our favorite candy, and we had always given up candy for lent - the perfect way to break the fast was middle of the night chocolate, filled with straight sugar. Yum.
After I dragged the kids to bed, waited for them to fall asleep, and played Easter Bunny, I sat down and reveled in the memory with a Cadbury Egg. Dee-licious.
But it brought back another memory. Twelve Easters ago, I was newly married and pregnant with my first baby. My mom had given me a Cadbury Egg, and I put it away in the freezer to await my late-night Easter tradition. My new husband, claiming starvation, left me to claw my pregnant self out of the car while he ran in the house to make a sandwich. I will never forget the pure hatred I felt when I finally made it into the house and saw him standing with the freezer door open, torn colored foil in one hand, and half a Cadbury Egg in the other.
"What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" Imagine if I'd seen a stranger in there, holding a knife to someone's throat. That is the exact intensity of my question. "You did NOT just eat my Cadbury Egg."
He held the uneaten half toward me. "Want it?"
"Are you KIDDING me? That is disgusting! I will not eat after anyone who is horrid enough to sneak into a pregnant woman's house and eat her Cadbury Egg." And then I started crying.
"I'll get you another one," he offered. Sick, right? I mean, get me another one???
"Just where are you going to go at 2am on Easter morning to find one? NOWHERE, that's where. You ate it, and I HATE YOU."
"What's the big deal? You can get one later. I didn't know..."
"You didn't KNOW? I'm carrying YOUR BABY and you ate. my. egg."
Things continued in this manner for about a week. This was the first of two times I lost my temper during my marriage. I got pretty upset at other times, but there were only two that I can honestly say I lost all control of my behavior. The other one was over tater tots. (You don't eat a pregnant woman's food, is my point.)
Last night was the Easter Vigil, and I'm sure I have written (and many others have written) lots of stories about taking small children to midnight mass. Instead, I'll sum up. Taking small children to church for three hours in the middle of the night and expecting them to be still and quiet is like - well, exactly how it sounds. You may as well just lay in the dirt and TELL your kids to kick your butt.
So late last night, driving home with blessedly sleeping kiddos in the back of the truck, I remembered that my sister and I used to go the week before Easter and buy a Cadbury Egg to have when we got home from midnight mass. It was our favorite candy, and we had always given up candy for lent - the perfect way to break the fast was middle of the night chocolate, filled with straight sugar. Yum.
After I dragged the kids to bed, waited for them to fall asleep, and played Easter Bunny, I sat down and reveled in the memory with a Cadbury Egg. Dee-licious.
But it brought back another memory. Twelve Easters ago, I was newly married and pregnant with my first baby. My mom had given me a Cadbury Egg, and I put it away in the freezer to await my late-night Easter tradition. My new husband, claiming starvation, left me to claw my pregnant self out of the car while he ran in the house to make a sandwich. I will never forget the pure hatred I felt when I finally made it into the house and saw him standing with the freezer door open, torn colored foil in one hand, and half a Cadbury Egg in the other.
"What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" Imagine if I'd seen a stranger in there, holding a knife to someone's throat. That is the exact intensity of my question. "You did NOT just eat my Cadbury Egg."
He held the uneaten half toward me. "Want it?"
"Are you KIDDING me? That is disgusting! I will not eat after anyone who is horrid enough to sneak into a pregnant woman's house and eat her Cadbury Egg." And then I started crying.
"I'll get you another one," he offered. Sick, right? I mean, get me another one???
"Just where are you going to go at 2am on Easter morning to find one? NOWHERE, that's where. You ate it, and I HATE YOU."
"What's the big deal? You can get one later. I didn't know..."
"You didn't KNOW? I'm carrying YOUR BABY and you ate. my. egg."
Things continued in this manner for about a week. This was the first of two times I lost my temper during my marriage. I got pretty upset at other times, but there were only two that I can honestly say I lost all control of my behavior. The other one was over tater tots. (You don't eat a pregnant woman's food, is my point.)
Apr 6, 2012
Hello, World
Hello, Interwebz.
I know my last post was all about Christmas, and it's been awhile since I've been here. I'm assuming that, because my Christmas tree is still standing proud in my living room. It seems the rest of the world has moved on?
Easter is here (almost), so I've decided to leave the tree up so the Easter Bunny has another place to hide eggs. What's so wrong with that?
I've been very busy with work and with raising my kids, and it seems that the whole raising kids thing is really best done by two parents. Who knew? Donovan (age 4) is grounded for eternity because he said "butthole" to the neighbor boy, and the other kids are grounded on general principle because Donovan knew what "butthole" meant.
With my schooling being finished, I've found that I have less patience with my kids' school. Huston is now scared to take notes back to his teacher because we are equally sarcastic.
Teacher: Huston got a zero on his pre-COGATSJGSG test, because it was turned in late.
Me: So....he got a zero on a fake standardized test?
Teacher: Yes.
Me: So....I can't care less if I try.
Teacher: Huston told me he doesn't like hard work.
Me: Um...neither do I. Do you??? Is he doing his work?
Teacher: Yes, but he has a "bad attitude" about it.
Me: Is the attitude directed more toward school or to you?
Teacher: How 'bout I just write you notes and you don't answer them.
Me: Um, sounds fantastic.
Huston: Mom, I'm not taking these notes to class anymore.
And I've decided to marry a chiropractor, because they rule the world.
I know my last post was all about Christmas, and it's been awhile since I've been here. I'm assuming that, because my Christmas tree is still standing proud in my living room. It seems the rest of the world has moved on?
Easter is here (almost), so I've decided to leave the tree up so the Easter Bunny has another place to hide eggs. What's so wrong with that?
I've been very busy with work and with raising my kids, and it seems that the whole raising kids thing is really best done by two parents. Who knew? Donovan (age 4) is grounded for eternity because he said "butthole" to the neighbor boy, and the other kids are grounded on general principle because Donovan knew what "butthole" meant.
With my schooling being finished, I've found that I have less patience with my kids' school. Huston is now scared to take notes back to his teacher because we are equally sarcastic.
Teacher: Huston got a zero on his pre-COGATSJGSG test, because it was turned in late.
Me: So....he got a zero on a fake standardized test?
Teacher: Yes.
Me: So....I can't care less if I try.
Teacher: Huston told me he doesn't like hard work.
Me: Um...neither do I. Do you??? Is he doing his work?
Teacher: Yes, but he has a "bad attitude" about it.
Me: Is the attitude directed more toward school or to you?
Teacher: How 'bout I just write you notes and you don't answer them.
Me: Um, sounds fantastic.
Huston: Mom, I'm not taking these notes to class anymore.
And I've decided to marry a chiropractor, because they rule the world.
Jan 11, 2012
Merry Christmas!...wait...what?
I have written some pretty incredible blog posts over the last few weeks, only none of them ever managed to find their way out of my head and through my fingers and make their way to the Internet.
A quick summary for you then, of what I would have written, in a truly awesome way, had I actually done it:
1. After two years of grueling labor (in the form of talking to shiny-haired lawyer on the phone), I am legally single. Legal has nothing on reality, but whatever, it's a step.
2. In about two weeks, I will be finished with school. I will also turn 32. If you are younger than thirty, you may think these two cancel each other out. In fact, they do, but only because I'd like to celebrate both things by way of a very long nap.
3. Obligatory New Year's Post: Things I want to do in 2012.
Start my own company
Clean my house
Rent a party bus every Monday, so that Monday can be cool
Start planning for Christmas in July instead of on Christmas Eve
Organize All the Things
Find the floor of the laundry room
Spend more time in the kitchen doing something other than cleaning it
Obtain fabulous hair
Avoid grocery shopping at all times
Other than the cleaning thing, I think these are all fairly obtainable.
3. I may need you guys to help me with my company. Social Media Marketing and this blog go hand in hand, because I successfully Google pranked Jason F. Brown. Remember? Which means I win at this, and it's really the only thing on my resume at this point. So you all may be getting some calls for references, is my point, because you are the only people I know and also because you have witnessed my brilliance first-hand. Right? ....Right?
4. This is a run-down of what happened over the last 24 hours, which may explain somewhat why I don't have time to write my own blog anymore:
9pm last night - I'm putting together a very important photo blog for my company, which is at the CES in Vegas this week. Very important, and also not part of my regular schedule, so I was freaking out trying to make the time to do it.
10:00 - Madi threw up, with no regard to proper puke etiquette. I cleaned everything while she cried. (I may have cried a little.)
10:30 - upload one more photo to the blog
11pm - She got mad at me and threw up again - at me this time, because I made her take a bath.
11:30 - redo all the captions on the blog, because WordPress decided they should all go on one photo and the other photos should just go away.
12:00am - Again with the puking. This time, we both held it together and nobody cried.
12:30 - Check the blog to make sure it's ready to publish first thing in the morning. Go to bed.
1:00 - Finally drift off to sleep
1:01 - Yip, more throwing up
1:30 - back to sleep
3:00 - Small child covered in puke climbs into my bed. Deal with this.
6:30 - Wake up and the coffee pot is broken. No amount of threats or tears would convince it to brew.
7:00 - consider going back to bed because this is going to be One of Those Days. Decide to FACE THE DAY, with a Good Attitude, no less.
8:00 - Begin upload of children into truck for school.
9:00 - Finish upload and drop the well children off ten minutes late. Sickies are staying home, which means mama is staying home, too. Call my mommy so that she does not have to be deprived of the knowledge of my misery.
10-noon - Tinker with the blog and publish, tweet, and Facebook it.
1:00 - phone call from the CEO's wife from Vegas. Mad panic finding the info she needs as I rush to drop the younger kids at school ten minutes late.
1:30 - come home and finish finding info, which includes the discovery that I'll need to sit and watch for an important link to pop up from one of our VIP contacts. Meanwhile, the North Pole moves into town and I rush outside to find enough sticks in the yard to get a fire going.
2:00 - fire goes out, emails and texts are flying, it's very cold in my house, and I have to make a dental appointment for one of the kids
3:00 - I'm watching for the link to come up, Tweeting about the Hangout of Awesomeness our CEO was getting ready to do, and spraining my thumbs texting his wife about where to find the link.
3:15 - I decide to get the kids early, since the Hangout started at 4, and I really needed to be back before it happened to tell Twitter about it. I'm telling you guys, Twitter is at a complete LOSS if I'm not around to tell it what's going on.
3:30 - ten minutes early to get the kids at school, but I can't find them.
3:40 - Fight my way through the sea of small children leaving the school to the teacher in charge of my kids.
3:45 - Said teacher finally finishes yelling at me about my lack of a yellow piece of paper, I grab the kids and run through the parking lot to get to the truck. It's freakin' cold, yo.
4:00 - Hangout of Awesomeness is about to start, I tell the kids to get their own snacks and start their homework and rush to my computer to find the link. The link is still not there, but I tell Twitter about it anyway.
4:10 - Hangout of Awesomeness starts a little late with no audio, which doesn't matter much to me because my computer has decided it hates playing video. I watched what I could, and saw the Big Boss on the Interwebz, and it was pretty cool. My kids thought he was Darth Vader, but don't tell him that. He didn't look like Vader or anything, my sound was just messed up. Either way, a family affair.
5:30 - Restart the fire, start dinner, homework, phone call, and 48 emails to answer.
6:00 - Dinner. Chill.
7:00 - Back to answering the emails
8:00 - Put the kids to bed, not for the first time tonight, and back to the emails.
9:00 - Tell you, Interwebz, what my days are like so that you don't think I have left you by choice.
A quick summary for you then, of what I would have written, in a truly awesome way, had I actually done it:
1. After two years of grueling labor (in the form of talking to shiny-haired lawyer on the phone), I am legally single. Legal has nothing on reality, but whatever, it's a step.
2. In about two weeks, I will be finished with school. I will also turn 32. If you are younger than thirty, you may think these two cancel each other out. In fact, they do, but only because I'd like to celebrate both things by way of a very long nap.
3. Obligatory New Year's Post: Things I want to do in 2012.
Start my own company
Clean my house
Rent a party bus every Monday, so that Monday can be cool
Start planning for Christmas in July instead of on Christmas Eve
Organize All the Things
Find the floor of the laundry room
Spend more time in the kitchen doing something other than cleaning it
Obtain fabulous hair
Avoid grocery shopping at all times
Other than the cleaning thing, I think these are all fairly obtainable.
3. I may need you guys to help me with my company. Social Media Marketing and this blog go hand in hand, because I successfully Google pranked Jason F. Brown. Remember? Which means I win at this, and it's really the only thing on my resume at this point. So you all may be getting some calls for references, is my point, because you are the only people I know and also because you have witnessed my brilliance first-hand. Right? ....Right?
4. This is a run-down of what happened over the last 24 hours, which may explain somewhat why I don't have time to write my own blog anymore:
9pm last night - I'm putting together a very important photo blog for my company, which is at the CES in Vegas this week. Very important, and also not part of my regular schedule, so I was freaking out trying to make the time to do it.
10:00 - Madi threw up, with no regard to proper puke etiquette. I cleaned everything while she cried. (I may have cried a little.)
10:30 - upload one more photo to the blog
11pm - She got mad at me and threw up again - at me this time, because I made her take a bath.
11:30 - redo all the captions on the blog, because WordPress decided they should all go on one photo and the other photos should just go away.
12:00am - Again with the puking. This time, we both held it together and nobody cried.
12:30 - Check the blog to make sure it's ready to publish first thing in the morning. Go to bed.
1:00 - Finally drift off to sleep
1:01 - Yip, more throwing up
1:30 - back to sleep
3:00 - Small child covered in puke climbs into my bed. Deal with this.
6:30 - Wake up and the coffee pot is broken. No amount of threats or tears would convince it to brew.
7:00 - consider going back to bed because this is going to be One of Those Days. Decide to FACE THE DAY, with a Good Attitude, no less.
8:00 - Begin upload of children into truck for school.
9:00 - Finish upload and drop the well children off ten minutes late. Sickies are staying home, which means mama is staying home, too. Call my mommy so that she does not have to be deprived of the knowledge of my misery.
10-noon - Tinker with the blog and publish, tweet, and Facebook it.
1:00 - phone call from the CEO's wife from Vegas. Mad panic finding the info she needs as I rush to drop the younger kids at school ten minutes late.
1:30 - come home and finish finding info, which includes the discovery that I'll need to sit and watch for an important link to pop up from one of our VIP contacts. Meanwhile, the North Pole moves into town and I rush outside to find enough sticks in the yard to get a fire going.
2:00 - fire goes out, emails and texts are flying, it's very cold in my house, and I have to make a dental appointment for one of the kids
3:00 - I'm watching for the link to come up, Tweeting about the Hangout of Awesomeness our CEO was getting ready to do, and spraining my thumbs texting his wife about where to find the link.
3:15 - I decide to get the kids early, since the Hangout started at 4, and I really needed to be back before it happened to tell Twitter about it. I'm telling you guys, Twitter is at a complete LOSS if I'm not around to tell it what's going on.
3:30 - ten minutes early to get the kids at school, but I can't find them.
3:40 - Fight my way through the sea of small children leaving the school to the teacher in charge of my kids.
3:45 - Said teacher finally finishes yelling at me about my lack of a yellow piece of paper, I grab the kids and run through the parking lot to get to the truck. It's freakin' cold, yo.
4:00 - Hangout of Awesomeness is about to start, I tell the kids to get their own snacks and start their homework and rush to my computer to find the link. The link is still not there, but I tell Twitter about it anyway.
4:10 - Hangout of Awesomeness starts a little late with no audio, which doesn't matter much to me because my computer has decided it hates playing video. I watched what I could, and saw the Big Boss on the Interwebz, and it was pretty cool. My kids thought he was Darth Vader, but don't tell him that. He didn't look like Vader or anything, my sound was just messed up. Either way, a family affair.
5:30 - Restart the fire, start dinner, homework, phone call, and 48 emails to answer.
6:00 - Dinner. Chill.
7:00 - Back to answering the emails
8:00 - Put the kids to bed, not for the first time tonight, and back to the emails.
9:00 - Tell you, Interwebz, what my days are like so that you don't think I have left you by choice.
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