Me Too

This is an excerpt from Rosie O'Donnell's blog at rosie.com in regards to Britany Spears shaving her head & getting a tattoo.
Something about what Rosie wrote struck a cord with me and reminds me all too much of my own life. Real life has saved me from many mistakes.

many moms -
of kids in ur sons class
want to shave their hair off
and get a tattoo
they dont because they cant
noone is there 2 watch the kids
what would the neighbors say
plus
the pta meeting
would be humiliating
on many levels
real life
can save u
sometimes
u have to -
no choice

I Heart No One

I'm seriously lacking many things lately. My creative writing has gone down the tubes, laundry is, once again, over - flowing from the wash room and the bathroom counter top resembles a lab where they study toothpaste spills and blue mouthwash stains. I haven't cooked a "real" meal in weeks. I am so. freaking. tired. It's so cold. And it seems like everyone else is going about their lives, happily balancing work, kids, volunteering, homes and family whilst I walk through the front door tearing my clothes off in preparation for a nap.

Things at Chicken's school are hectic. The yearbook has to be turned in by the 14th and we haven't even finished collecting pictures. There is loads of money to be collected for field trips, Year End Celebrations, etc. I had to put in for 5 days off work in the month of February for school stuff. That's 1/3 of my total paid time off. How do people manage this with jobs? I guess they don't. Most of the other "School Moms" don't have jobs. This is their job. But I am finding this year to be fulfilling in every possible way. The children delight me, the teachers can depend on me and the parents aggravate me. Something feels very important about my time spent at this very special school.

Husband is taking a mortgage broker class taught by his brother (!). He told me he needed a fire extinguisher because his brain was fire. Bless his big, sweet heart. All of this to get us out of here. So I can chase my dreams while he has his nose in a book, in a computer, up a potential client's ass. I must buy him something very pretty and expensive. He loves a fabulous pair of shoes.

Here's to naps and Valentine's Day.

Teacher's Pet

Kindergarten Field Trip - $4
Loss of weekly wages volunteering at school - $64
Pink baby clothes for very pregnant teacher - $100
Arts and craft supplies for cookie and card decorating - $20
Dinner with families at school fundraiser - $37
Being told you're her best favorite parent - Priceless

Because It Has Many Purposes

I told this story to a friend on the phone last night and decided that I should write about it in order to get over it and move on.

But before I do, allow me to provide a little background information.

I have a very love/hate relationship with my boss. One on hand, she's very kind and generous. On the other hand, she's a mega bitch. We used to call her Hagatha the sea-witch. She's very funny yet judgmental and brings new meaning to the words pretentious and snob. She is also the classic rags to riches tale. Except now she's just like you and me. Regular middle class folk. I've worked with her for 4 years and we've seen each other through many economic, physical and emotional challenges. We're very loyal to each other but with the feeling that it could end any day now.


Onto my True PACSI! Hollywood (Florida that is) Story:

Boss: How much do you think a 40 pack of tissue paper goes for?Me: I don't know, like 99 cents.Boss: Well I just paid $3.99 for a 40 pack of tissue paper at Party City!Me: You got ripped off! I bought a 300 pack at Target for 47 cents the day after Christmas.Boss: (scoff) What do you need tissue paper for?Me: (indignant tone) Uhh, the same thing you use it for. Gift wrapping.Boss: (now with even snottier tone) They don't give you tissue paper with the box when you buy a gift?Me: Um, I shop at Target.Boss: (sigh) We really do come from different worlds, don't we?


Ahh yes. Different worlds. I'm going to have to remember that the next time she asks me where she can get a good deal on milk.

My Eyes Hurt

Here are some fashion statements I don't understand:

-Guys with tall hair wearing a rubber band/headband around their head to put emphasis on the very tall hair.
-Young (not balding, non-military) guys with shaved heads.
-The mandana. 'Nuff said.
-Mini skirts with leggings. I'd rather bring Madonna back from the 80's.
-Skinny jeans. They keep saying that EVERYONE can wear skinny jeans. Even no-so-skinny chicks. This is not true. Trust me.
-Halter tops, tube tops and other inappropriately-revealing clothing in plus sizes. Also, maternity thong underwear.
-BIG hair. You know what I'm talking about. The ones who have super curly hair, keep it really long and turn their heads upside down and cause further global warming with a bottle of hair spray. B I G !
-Boho anything. This includes the huge t-shirt passing off as a dress but excludes the boho bag.
-HUGE Jackie-O sunglasses. Especially on tiny women.
-The mermaid dress. This cannot be comfortable.
-Guys wearing t-shirts down to their knees and then still wearing their pants below their ass. What's the point?
-$150+ sneakers endorsed by basketball, football and baseball players. I get having one pair of really good sneakers. I do not get why kids want several pairs. Are your parents very rich? If so, I'm available for adoption.
-The velour jumpsuit. Shut up.
-The one piece bathing suit with the sides and/or front and back exposed. What exactly are you covering?
My #1 fashion pet peeve:
-Little girls dressed as grown women.

Flaming

I'm feeling a little sad today so this might not be a great post. It will, however, be all about me.

My birthday was a big bust (as usual). My birthdays are infamous for sucking. I'm beginning to think it's because I put too much emphasis on it. I get too excited and then when nothing big happens, I'm disappointed.
Note to self: do not make large hoopla about birthday next year. Perhaps big will happen then.
I am always saddened by the lack of celebration. This year was the worst. I didn't do a single thing. We went to Outback and I escaped the dreaded wait staff birthday song. There was the possibility of plans, of which I was really, really, really looking forward to. And then, in usual fashion, they fell through. Ok, not so much as fell through as people said they weren't going and then went anyway! What? Whatever.

Y'all know how much I love to shop. In fact, it's in the top three things I do best (third is baking and the second is none of your business). But instead of shopping for lame candle sets and picture frames for teachers, I decided I would create elaborate food baskets. They're very cute! I made so much stuff and all from scratch. I learned that I do not make good marshmallows but that I make kick ass biscotti. I'm always thinking that I'd like to do that for a living; make baskets. All kind of baskets! Wine, cheese & fruit baskets, cookie baskets, smelly (lotions, candles, bath stuff) baskets. There are so many things I want to do. But you know, silly monkey job and very important family prevent me from chasing my crack pipe dreams. Just in case, I stuck little business cards on the bottom of the baskets that sort of advertised that for a price, I'd make more.

Oh! Here's irony for you. My Christmas shopping has been done for several weeks now. Partly to avoid the last minute rush and pandemonium which is Christmas shopping but mostly because I love to shop so much, I get it done very quickly. And I'm organized. However, my mom wants me to take her Christmas shopping tomorrow. At the mall. Ack! I don't want to. But I will. Because she is my mother and I love her. Plus, I'll get to pick out all my own Christmas presents.

I spent Saturday afternoon with my maternal grandparents. I love them. I love them as much as I love anything in the entire world. We ate Barbecue and shopped at the Salvation Army. I feel so lucky to have known them, I am a million times wiser and my life has turned out better because of Gramma and Silly Grandpa Bobby.

Now, I am tired. It's time to put the sadness to bed. Tomorrow, this post may not be here and I'm hoping the happiness will take over again. After all, I'll be playing Santy Clause at school tomorrow with Chicken's teachers.

Post Script: I'd like to again thank everyone who was kind enough to acknowledge my birthday.

Balls Of Steel

Allow me to preface my funny story by insisting that I really do love my husband. And by funny I mean funny like when your brother farted on your head and everyone laughed but you. But onto the story.

And in continuing my multi-part series on stupid men, I give you this:

We went to Orlando last weekend to see my sister and her family who were there on vacation from New Hampshire. We stopped by the Ghirardelli Chocolate Shoppe, my favorite chocolate joint. I needed to pick up some baking supplies and holiday gifts. While I'm there, Husband asks me to get him "something other than the Carmel filled chocolate bar since we always get that at home". So I get him the 60% cacao espresso bar. Because the Carmel filled is the best, I buy myself one and eat one row on the way home, leaving 5 rows for later.
I spent the following day at work thinking about my Carmel chocolate bar. I came home, cooked (and ate) dinner and could not wait to rip into that bitch.

:GASP:

The bitch was gone.
Thinking that perhaps I put the candy in another bag, I asked my husband. "Honey, where is my Ghirardelli Carmel chocolate bar?"

Then it hit the fan.

You see...he ate the fat girl's chocolate. The. Whole. Thing. Then he laughed and said "It wasn't even that good." and left the evidence for all to see.
How are you going to eat a fat girl's high end chocolate, leave the wrapper, insult the candy and not immediately get up off your ass and purchase me a new candy bar? I don't understand.
He is paying for this dearly. I don't know how yet but he will be punished.
By the way, his 60% cacao espresso bar goes untouched. It will be destroyed and so will he.

Edited to add: Husband wants me to tell you that he thinks it's ok that he ate my $4 chocolate bar because I ate his frozen White Castle burgers. But I ate 2 burgers and left him 2. Besides, White Castle v. Ghirardelli? There is no contest there.

Husband shall pay.