Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Before I get to the "Quote of the Day" you must first realize that the old game, Rock-Paper-Scissors is used in my house as a means to solve quarrels, to make decisions and also to just show off how awesome you are at some random game...now on to the quote...
"What? You chicken? Bawk, bawk, bawk..." (said in a taunting manner) by Daughter to Husband while we were driving home last night. I had just spanked Husband in best 2 out of 3, and now daughter wanted to take her turn at tanning Daddy's hide. I wouldn't have been at all surprised either, to have turned around and seen her flapping her chicken wings to accompany the bawking. It was just so funny to hear her little voice (it was practically in my ear) teasing and taunting him. And never one to turn down a challenge, Husband proceeded to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with Daughter. Both confident they were going to win.
Sadly, he beat her. However, this taunting will live on forever in our collective hearts, as I believe I've never heard these words come out of her mouth in this exact way...I nearly peed my pants when I had to repeat it for Husband because he didn't hear her say it the first time (as he was too busy doing some Rock-Paper-Scissors mindgame bullshit on her).
I'm sure the day will come when she will get her revenge. Until then, I am the reigning Queen Supreme of RPS! I am undefeated.
Where's that dang tiara...????
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Growing up, I always had pets. I’ve had birds, rabbits, dogs, cats and fish. My parents are the type of people who enjoy having pets. Currently, they have two dogs and a cat. The cat was their newest acquisition about a year ago, and her name is SugarBelle. She’s one of those black and white tuxedo cats, and my mom got her from a friend of hers who rescued her when she was only like 6 weeks old or something. Initially, my dad was all in a twist over getting the kitten (pretty much because my mom just sort of came home with her one day without warning), but of course, like all people who are pet-people, he melted when it came to little SugarBelle.
The two dogs that my parents have couldn’t be more opposite of each other. There’s Gizmo – he’s a black and white Pekinese, whom I detest. I never thought I’d have an animal on my Shit List, but if you check it – there’s Gizmo’s name. He’s about 8 years old now, and was cute as hell when my parents got him as a puppy. But that cuteness wore off when we all came to realize that Gizmo had An Attitude. I think one of the reasons why they even got Gizmo in the first place was because we had a kick-ass Pekinese (my childhood dog) who had to be put to sleep in 2000. He was brown and black and although he was as dumb as a box of rocks, he was one of the sweetest animals ever. He was dopey but loveable. His name was Mikey. It fits a dopey, dumb Pekinese, doesn’t it? But back to Gizmo. Gizzy is mean, and he growls and he’s a biter. Luckily, he’s never bitten me or Daughter, but Husband swears, if he ever does, he’s a goner. Yeah…get in line. No one touches my baby, even a little dog. Funny enough, Gizzy is kinda friendly to Daughter (she takes him on walks and gives him cheese), so he sometimes is on the Almost-Off-the-Shit-List List. Almost. Funny enough, Gizmo is my dad’s bitch. He loves my dad. He rolls over on his back and exposes his tummy for my dad and freaks out whenever he sees my dad. Figures, right? He’s bitten my mom. But never my dad.
My parents’ second dog is Annie. She is a mix of a few different breeds, but predominantly a Beagle. She is a very light blonde, almost a white-yellow. She’s old and slow but such a sweet dog (she reminds me of SG’s dog, Rocky, only a smaller version). She’s another one of my mom’s rescue finds – and I believe she was probably abused in a former life, because she’s still kind of timid. I think she’s deaf, but that’s no biggie. She just wants to be petted and loved and fed. Sometimes, she raids Gizmo’s bowl when he’s too slow (or too picky) to eat his meals. Oh well. I laugh and tell Gizmo – “TOO BAD LITLE MAN!” I know, it’s mean, but if you knew him you’d also be gloating in his face.
I like visiting my parents (sometimes) because of their pets. Like I said, I miss having one. I mean, we did have Freddie Fishsticks, but really, a goldfish is hardly a good playmate. I miss curling up on the sofa or wherever, and petting a furry friend.
The main reason why I don’t have a pet is because of Husband. Cats are, unfortunately, absolutely out of the picture – mainly because he’s allergic, and partly because he doesn’t really like cats. I know what you’re thinking – how can anyone not like cats? I know. I’ve wondered the same thing myself. Husband did meet my childhood cat (Diddle) years ago, and he actually admitted she was pretty cool – but that’s because he couldn’t deny the coolness she had. It would be like denying the sky was blue. In my opinion, she was an extraordinary cat. She was so awesome, I have never met another cat like her. She never purred (weird, I know, but we thought she was never taught as a kitten) but you could always tell when she was contented. While she exhibited many of the typical cat behaviors I love so much, especially the “I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think-of-me attitude she was smarter than most people, and would spend a lot of time outside. She was street smart who always looked both ways before crossing the street. I swear. True story. We used to joke that Diddle was a kid from the ghetto and Mikey was like a kid from private school. Diddle kicked his ass on a regular basis and Mikey was a little scared of her. I’m sure she stole his lunch money all the time. :) *sigh* And she was beautiful. She had blue eyes, and was mostly white, with black, brown and orange spots all over her body. She was a stray that we found when we moved into our new house when I was 12 and she was probably about 9 months old. She actually belongs to one of our neighbors that had a mini-farm down the street – animals everywhere. He didn’t mind we kept her (and yes, we asked permission.) Dang, I miss that cat. She died about 3 or 4 years ago after living about 20-21 years. Toward the end it was kind of sad, because she was like this frail old lady with matted fur and missing teeth. I get satisfaction in knowing she died of old age, and had a really long and satisfying life.
So lately, I’ve been longing for a pet. Since cats are off the list, my only choice is a dog. As birds, rabbits, and anything in the “rodent” family (gerbils, guinea pigs, etc.) are also a no from Husband. (Yeah, I know he’s a pain. But he’s MY pain.) Now, I know there are “dog people” and there are “cat people” and even though I’ve had both, I have always considered myself more of a “cat” person. Dogs are smelly and have bad breath. They need exercise and you have to pick up their poop (as opposed to just emptying the cat litter). They are loud at times and sometimes are sloppy and want to lick you. It’s rather undignified, if you ask me. That’s why I love cats. They clean themselves so they don’t stink, they do their business in litter which only smells when you are lazy and don’t change it regularly, and they are never loud or sloppy. They mind their own business and don’t jump all over you. Dignified. Regal. Cats would never find themselves begging or doing stupid tricks for a treat. (We make Gizmo dance around on his hind legs for cheese. DAMMIT! HE DESERVES THE HUMILIATION I TELL YOU!)
Lately, I’ve been thinking that since I must settle on a dog, I wonder what type would be acceptable to me. Short hair is a must. Small in stature is also a must. Both of these are related to my wanting to be able to bathe them on a regular basis (to minimize the “smelly” part). Husband threw in the stipulation that the dog also must not shed. Ugh. Great. That’s going to narrow down my list considerably.
Over Easter, we had dinner at Husband’s cousin’s house. Her name is Angie. Angie has two long-haired dachshunds, named Rocky and Charlie. I love these dogs. They are playful and outgoing. And according to Angie, they only shed when the seasons change. Not bad. Daughter about when apeshit over them, because they love chasing balls and toys – so she had a couple of playmates on Easter.
I am not saying I’m going to get a dachshund, but they’re on my list. I mean, look at those faces on the pic in this post. I'm DYING over the cuteness of the dachshund babies...LOOK AT THOSE FACES. I COULD JUST SQUEAL...But actually, I’d prefer to get a dog from the Human Society or a rescue dog. I don’t want to pay hundreds of dollars for a purebred, when I know there’s plenty of dogs in shelters that are in need of a good home. Plus, most of those dogs are housebroken, and I don’t need a puppy. I once was looking on the web for toy breeds, and found a breeder who was offering miniature pinchers who she actually litter trained. Best of both worlds right there. But they were hundreds of dollars AND she lived on the other side of the state…strike two. Maybe someday when I’m rich I can afford to buy a little dog who shits in cat litter – but today is not that day. I’m going to have to settle for a dog who shits outside like all the others, and who’s genetic history is as varied as mine.
Husband’s aversion for pets, I’m sure, comes from his mother. My mother-in-law is a decent-enough person, but she doesn’t like animals. She just doesn’t. So Husband never had pets growing up – which in my opinion, is akin to child abuse. Every kid should have pets. I don’t want Daughter to grow up and not know what it’s like to care for a pet, because she ADORES animals. She even has said she wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up (and I understand that at 6, she doesn’t know enough to know what she wants to be, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up becoming a vet.) Her preference is a cat (just like me) but she knows Daddy is allergic and will also settle for a dog (just like me).
Hmmm. I need to think some more about this. After all, I’m not running out to get a dog anytime soon – I need daughter to get a little older so she can help out on the responsibilities of caring for the pet (you know, everything has to have a life lesson). But it’s been on my mind since visiting Rocky and Charlie. Damn they were cute and I feel bad for Daughter. She needs a pet since it doesn’t look like she’s ever going to get a brother or sister. The least I can do for her, right?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
The response in my head that I didn't say outloud -- "Yeah. So does Daddy."
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I love this clip. It makes me feel good for some reason and makes me feel like hope is still alive in this world, thanks to Susan Boyle. Enjoy! (Stick with it. You won't be disappointed.)
(And I apologize, but I can't figure out how to imbed a video in my post. One day I will, but not today!)
Monday, April 13, 2009
This rant is going to be about me being overweight. What has caused me to go over the edge tonight is the fact that I'm trying to find a dress for my friend, Jen's, wedding. Now, I know Jen reads my blog and so I am going to make it clear right off the bat that I am not complaining about being asked to be in her wedding. I am honored and touched that she asked. We have been friends since we were 12 years old, and she is my oldest friend. I love her like a sister. So, thank you Jen, for allowing me to share your special day.
Now...here comes the complaining.
WHY DON'T FASHION DESIGNERS MAKE CLOTHES TO FIT A WOMAN'S BODY? WHY? WHY? Fashion models are special for a reason. There are only 12 other women in the world who weigh 67 pounds and are 6'2". I'm sorry, world. I have stomach fat and boobs and a flat ass. I like to eat food without throwing it up shortly after consuming it, and I also like to eat junk food. I can't deal with eating grass all day. Husband likes my body and is glad I'm not a skeleton. I am big-boned (literally -- I did the wrist-measuring test. It's a confirmed fact.) My ancestry is from Eastern Europe, probably the pesantry, so I am not made of frail stock. I'm hearty and sturdy and could probably beat the fuck out of someone if I tried. Probably. Ask Husband. We've tussled and he can't take me down too quickly (and we were just playing for all of you ready to call the police). This body has given life to another human being and I have the stretch marks to prove it (I know you can't see them but since we're on the subject of how much I hate my body, might as well throw the stretch marks in there.) My stomach was stretched out to fit another person into it, and so my stomach no longer holds the elasticity like it could have done years ago. It's flabby and probably will always be that way. You will never be able to bounce a quarter off of it, regardless of how many sit ups or crunches or whatever I do. Short of a tummy tuck. Which I have considered....yes, sadly, I have considered the "mommy makeover" but the fact that I'd have to wear a "drain tube" has turned me off to it so far. I figure if it's good enough for freakin' Kate (of Jon & Kate Plus 8) then it's good enough for me. I'm just waiting for the science to get a little more advanced so I don't have to deal with the drain tube. Ewwww.
And everything that fits me is FUGLY. That's "fucking ugly" for all of you not up on the lingo of the kids today. F-U-G-L-Y with a capital FUG. The dresses are either fugly or look like they were designed for 75-year-old grandmas. And I don't have anything against grandmas, except for the fact that I am not one. I am a cute, rather chubby, round-faced, 37-year old. Not anyone's grandma. At least not yet.
And here are the flaws I am trying to fix and/or hide:
The aforementioned fat stomach
The aforementioned boobs
No waistline to speak of
The aforementioned flat ass (although this is easy to fix in a dress)
Flabby arms (I'm growing bat-wings)
Thank god for a cute face or all would be lost. I am now reminded that I am in desperate need of a tan because at least the fat will look better when it is tanned. Skin cancer be damned! Oh, and I won't even mention that I swear I am going through early menopause because I am hot everywhere I go, so I sweat like a pig in the August sunshine, even in the middle of winter. So no matter what I wear (I want to find a dress with some kind of sleeve but I should probably wear sleeveless because her wedding is in mid-June) -- short of going in my underwear -- I'm going to sweat my balls off. Sweaty fat girls are just not cute.
I am so frustrated. Grrrr.
I know I am going to look like a blimp in whatever dress I find. Jen is beautiful in her little size 2 body and I am going to be the anchor on one side of her (the other side being balanced out by her hunk of a husband who is in the military and is built like a brick-shithouse and is like 6'2" or something.) Yes, there will be Jen, anchored by 2 brick-shithouses. FUCK ME.
OK, enough of this. I need to get back to dress-shopping online. Wish me luck everyone.
UPDATE: Here are the four choices I've decided on. Let me know if you have a favorite. The first one is my favorite, I think (if I can find it with the little jacket thing (if you click on the "larger view" button you'll see what I am talking about). Hurry and let me know. I gotta get this dress ordered! All of the dresses are coming up in the navy blue color which is what I need to order (in case you were wondering what color). Thanks for your help!
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Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
The day it opened – we were one of the first in line to see it. Granted, the movie theatre is not very busy on a Friday morning at 10:00am, but still. I had the day off, and he was covering the afternoon shift for someone at work…so it just sort of worked out perfectly that we could go see “The Watchmen” at its first showing on its Opening Day.
I was not as excited as Husband to see the movie, although, I had read the graphic novel a couple of years ago, and found the story intriguing. It’s not your typical comic book. The lines between good and evil are blurred, and it’s a thought-provoking, complicated story. The superheroes are not your typical superheroes. They are flawed and lack any kind of defining superhero powers. There is not a storybook happy ending. Despite all of this (or because of it, take your pick) I did want to see it and went with him willingly.
One of the first fight scenes in the movie involves one of the characters getting the shit kicked out of him, after someone breaks into his high-rise apartment…and ends with him being thrown out his window and tumbling to his death (splat!) on the streets of New York. The fight sequence was really good, but the thing that struck me was the soundtrack. This fight was put to the song, “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole:
Unforgettable, that’s what you are
“Unforgettable” is a song that is special to Husband and me. It was our wedding-couple-dance song. A few days after seeing “The Watchmen”, Husband and I are driving somewhere and he is playing a CD. I realize the song is one from the soundtrack of “The Watchmen” which reminded me that I wanted to buy it (it’s really good). I ask what we’re listening to, and he responds that it’s the soundtrack to “The Watchmen”. Great minds think alike, I guess. After another song or two, “Unforgettable” comes on. I half expected Husband to fast forward it to the next track, but he plays the whole thing...(awwwww…I see he still thinks its special). We end up taking about it a little, and how it defines our relationship.
As some of you may know, Husband infuriates me more than any human being alive. Except maybe my mother. He gets under my skin and makes me feel like I am going to explode like a nuclear bomb sometimes. He’s bossy, overbearing, opinionated and stubborn. He never thinks he wrong. He tries to run my life and gets frustrated when I don’t do what he thinks I should do – um…no, I have a brain and I’m grown and I will do what I think is best for me, thanks.
Despite all of his flaws, however, Husband is certainly one of the most unforgettable people in my life. He is my husband, and I’ve spent over 20 years of my life with him, sharing experiences and sharing life. He’s the father of my child, and I will forever be grateful to him for giving me such a beautiful and wonderful daughter. He is the only man I’ve ever fallen in love with – love that started with infatuation and immaturity has grown into something deeper and more permanent, almost like a scar. But in a good way (OK, in a good way most of the time).
Our relationship is complicated in a way that I never imagined during our first “Unforgettable” dance. Life is funny in that when you’re young, love and marriage seem so black and white. You fall in love, you get married, you buy a house, you start a family (or not, depending on whatever criteria is important to you), you build a retirement fund, you retire, you enjoy your golden years with your spouse. All the while, remaining as blissfully and blindly in love as you were the day you got married. And you never have problems or argue with each other – and you look down your nose at people who tell you otherwise. Divorce is for people who are failures and it would never happen to you, right? And you think that the TV show, Married…With Children is an exaggeration and isn’t based on real life.
But then you get older and your relationship gets older, too. You realize that you’re married to a version of Al Bundy – a man who has the responsibility of supporting his family on his shoulders and who just wants to sit in front of his TV with his hand in his waistband and watch some sports or something. You may even realize that you’ve become a version of Peg Bundy…maybe. Despite the negative connotations, I’ve seen enough episodes of Married…With Children to understand that deep down – deep in Al and Peggy’s hearts, they are two people that still love each other. Despite the flaws. Despite the ridicule, despite the boredom, despite the feelings of being trapped or hopelessness.
There are days where I feel bored, trapped and helpless. I know Husband does, too. We’ve talked about it. However, there are also still those days where I feel like I did on my wedding day. Husband still makes me laugh and I think he’s one of the funniest people I know. I still think he’s attractive and has a great smile. We have millions of inside jokes and can usually instinctively tell when the other person has something on their mind. I know how he’s going to react to pretty much any given situation, and I have accepted the fact that he doesn’t want to visit my family (really, who can blame him? Half the time I don’t even want to visit them!). He loves hockey and the Detroit Red Wings and every new hockey season we make up a secret handshake or hand signal that we do when the Wings score a goal (it’s silly, but it’s tradition now). He’s a decent father, although sometimes I don’t agree with how he parents (and vice versa) – but I can say I know for sure that he loves Daughter as much as I do. But most of all, he’s given me a feeling of security that I can’t deny. He’s always taken care of me – or at least tried to. He’s always supported me in the things that I do, even if I do question his motives. And he’s always been someone I can trust with my life – even when I feel like I am going to kill him (in his sleep…knife to the heart. Oh yeah…I went there).
Thankfully, I think that the good days outnumber the not-so-good days. And when we’re having one of those no-so-good days, I think about something Husband once said to me in a voice laced with sarcasm: “I have to grow old with someone; it might as well be you.” Not exactly a ringing endorsement of the love we share, but certainly an unforgettable statement. I mean, when it comes down to it, isn’t that what we could all hope for in the end? To share our last days with the person who shares a common history, who can read your thoughts, who will support and protect you? Even if you want to kill them in their sleep? C’mon. Who’s with me on this one?
Oh, and P.S. I enjoyed “The Watchmen”. It was a long movie (2 ½ hours +) but it was visually breathtaking and I thought it told the insanely complicated story as best as anyone could have. The characters are riveting (especially Rorschach) and if you can stand the violence and the running time, you might enjoy it. Just take a snack and settle in for the ride.