That's right, in just one short week, the kid will go back to school. I think that I am likely more excited than she is - and that means I'm pretty effing psyched. Someone earlier this summer said to me, "I don't know what the big deal is.....I mean, getting to play all day sounds like a lot of fun to me." Really? 'Cause that's not quite how I feel about things. Call me crazy, but I can only hear "MUMMA!!!!????!!!!" so many times in a day before I'm ready to rip my hair out. Oh, and lets not forget that I am quickly approaching "30" and my energy level does not allow me to get up at 7am, cook breakfast, go swimming, take a bike ride, go to the playground, go shopping, go to the library and host a play date all before 3 in the afternoon. It just DOES NOT HAPPEN.
Now, I know that I am delusional to think that on that very 1st wonderfully quiet day home alone, I will get to sit around and do nothing. I'm not a fool and I know that I will likely run around, trying to get stuff done - including a term paper - and end up looking more like the dog chasing its tail than I care to admit. It's a fruitless battle that I can never seem to win. But alas, if I want to try to do the laundry, load the dishwasher, write the 15 page term paper on juvenile sex offenders, figure out how to site it in APA format, and play Betty Crocker while I crank Eminem, at least I can do without background noise.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
We're Having a Midlife Crisis
Well, not us exactly. But, Leaf Blower is. Funny enough, just as I was talking about the "silent but crazy" neighbors that live across the street yesterday, Leaf Blower drives home in a Mustang convertible.....yep, the official seal of approval on any great midlife crisis is a flashy car, right? Since rolling up yesterday, he has driven it around the block 3 times and as soon as he's gotten back, he's washed it - every single time. He's been outside waxing and cleaning the tires with a toothbrush since 7:30 this morning, which makes it about 4 hours now.....he finally just moved from the passenger side to the drivers side......he's also managed to park their family mini-van in front of our house, which drives me absolutely batty because we all know how I feel about mini-vans.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
You Can't Escape the Crazy
I often laugh when reading Melissa's posts, especially when it comes to tales of her old neighborhood, and her hope that her new neighborhood will not have such quirks, because, after all, it is perfect. Her hopes are similar to what mine were when we moved into our new home. We no longer had to deal with the landlord who had kidnapped a prostitute and pistol-whipped her boyfriend over drug money, and we left behind the neighbors with the late 20-something son who was unemployed, yet drove a really expensive SUV, and lived in the basement of the house with his pregnant girlfriend and their constantly barking boxer puppy.
We now live in what I would deem a perfect neighborhood. Our days are filled with the laughter of the neighborhood children frolicking through the streets and the chirping of birds that we can actually hear because there is no traffic. But, we still have crazy neighbors, they're just a different kind of crazy and I'm willing to bet they're almost more dangerous because they are the silently crazy neighbors.
For example, we have the family kitty-corner from us with the daughter who is a teenage mom. Parents don't like baby's daddy, so they won't let him in their house. Imagine my surprise when the serenity of our street was broken by sirens recently and I watched an episode of COPS unfold before my very eyes. Baby's daddy is no longer allowed on their property. The result: The displaced teenage couple sit on the very edge of our property and smoke cigarettes and bitch about her parents while our dog barks constantly at them until they get up and leave, which is usually about 2 hours later. Now, the thought has occurred to me that perhaps I should just let the dog out and scare the shit out of both of them; however, my concern is that in the midst of the chaos that would cause, one of them would get hurt and would, of course, sue us. Then they wouldn't have to sit on the edge of our property to avoid her parents, they could just move in to our house because they would own it.
Our other neighbors across the street are seemingly the Cleavers. Dad is a hard working man who supports his family and trucks his son to football and baseball - hell, he even coaches the team. Mom just went back to work part-time after staying home for 8 years to raise the littles; after she drops them both off at Catholic school each morning, she goes to the hospital for the day and returns just in time to pick them up so they never need to be cared for by someone else. When you walk in to their house, they have sun catchers in the window that say "Praise Jesus" with rainbows and clouds and their house is meticulously cleaned - I don't know how she does it. But when you really pay attention you start to note things :: dad is outside, shirtless, in his cut off denim shorts, frantically using the leaf blower to remove dust and debris from his driveway at 7:30 in the morning :: mom who exercises frantically to maintain her perfect figure, even though she is rocking a permed mullet and tube socks :: dad who spends a week packing the trailer for a family camping trip, because he knows the exact dimensions of every piece of equipment, which is strategically placed within said trailer so that it will all fit. "No, that is not how it goes, it goes cooler, then stove, then inflatable pontoon boat, then chairs. That's the only way it will fit."
We have the friendly couple down the street with the two, obnoxious little dogs but no children, who feel like it is their duty to monitor the speeds of the cars going in and out of our neighborhood, which I appreciate, very, very much. Last week though, as I came around the corner, going a full 10 MPH under the speed limit, I was verbally accosted by one of them and it just so happened that she had just cleaned up her dog's poo.......guess what came flying at the windshield of my car? That's right, a yellow bag full of dog shit. Because she never actually came up to my car, I'm guessing she doesn't realize that it was me, but I'm waiting for the right time to say something about that one.
So, see, I've determined that it doesn't really matter where you move, or how seemingly perfect your surrounding might be; you can't escape the crazy. Or, maybe it's just me. A friend of mine said recently "You really just attract these people." I hope Melissa has better luck in her new neighborhood than I have, although I am willing to bet that in no time at all, we will be getting wonderfully sarcastic stories of how crazy her new neighborhood actually is; as sick as I am, I look forward to it.
We now live in what I would deem a perfect neighborhood. Our days are filled with the laughter of the neighborhood children frolicking through the streets and the chirping of birds that we can actually hear because there is no traffic. But, we still have crazy neighbors, they're just a different kind of crazy and I'm willing to bet they're almost more dangerous because they are the silently crazy neighbors.
For example, we have the family kitty-corner from us with the daughter who is a teenage mom. Parents don't like baby's daddy, so they won't let him in their house. Imagine my surprise when the serenity of our street was broken by sirens recently and I watched an episode of COPS unfold before my very eyes. Baby's daddy is no longer allowed on their property. The result: The displaced teenage couple sit on the very edge of our property and smoke cigarettes and bitch about her parents while our dog barks constantly at them until they get up and leave, which is usually about 2 hours later. Now, the thought has occurred to me that perhaps I should just let the dog out and scare the shit out of both of them; however, my concern is that in the midst of the chaos that would cause, one of them would get hurt and would, of course, sue us. Then they wouldn't have to sit on the edge of our property to avoid her parents, they could just move in to our house because they would own it.
Our other neighbors across the street are seemingly the Cleavers. Dad is a hard working man who supports his family and trucks his son to football and baseball - hell, he even coaches the team. Mom just went back to work part-time after staying home for 8 years to raise the littles; after she drops them both off at Catholic school each morning, she goes to the hospital for the day and returns just in time to pick them up so they never need to be cared for by someone else. When you walk in to their house, they have sun catchers in the window that say "Praise Jesus" with rainbows and clouds and their house is meticulously cleaned - I don't know how she does it. But when you really pay attention you start to note things :: dad is outside, shirtless, in his cut off denim shorts, frantically using the leaf blower to remove dust and debris from his driveway at 7:30 in the morning :: mom who exercises frantically to maintain her perfect figure, even though she is rocking a permed mullet and tube socks :: dad who spends a week packing the trailer for a family camping trip, because he knows the exact dimensions of every piece of equipment, which is strategically placed within said trailer so that it will all fit. "No, that is not how it goes, it goes cooler, then stove, then inflatable pontoon boat, then chairs. That's the only way it will fit."
We have the friendly couple down the street with the two, obnoxious little dogs but no children, who feel like it is their duty to monitor the speeds of the cars going in and out of our neighborhood, which I appreciate, very, very much. Last week though, as I came around the corner, going a full 10 MPH under the speed limit, I was verbally accosted by one of them and it just so happened that she had just cleaned up her dog's poo.......guess what came flying at the windshield of my car? That's right, a yellow bag full of dog shit. Because she never actually came up to my car, I'm guessing she doesn't realize that it was me, but I'm waiting for the right time to say something about that one.
So, see, I've determined that it doesn't really matter where you move, or how seemingly perfect your surrounding might be; you can't escape the crazy. Or, maybe it's just me. A friend of mine said recently "You really just attract these people." I hope Melissa has better luck in her new neighborhood than I have, although I am willing to bet that in no time at all, we will be getting wonderfully sarcastic stories of how crazy her new neighborhood actually is; as sick as I am, I look forward to it.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A Nameologist
So, as I'm listening to the Today Show this morning, I catch this segment on a Nameologist that Nightline ran a month or so ago. $350 to have someone come on in and help you decide what you want to name your kid??? Are you f*%king serious? I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed for the people that are stupid enough to pay that much money for a little help in picking out a name for their kid, or jealous that this woman is able to give herself a title and charge people that kind of money to help pick out a name for their kid. Here's a tip, use one of the bazillion free mommy-to-be web forums and offer to throw $50 at the person who comes up with the best name; you'll get so many responses, you won't know what to do with them all....in fact, come to think of it, that's probably where your Nameologist is getting her ideas from.
In other unrelated news, NBC also ran a segment on drinks......and my favorite whorehouse was named......if you cut out one regular soda and one grande loaded coffee per day, you can lose one pound per week....just from the cut in sugar alone. That is, if you're a Nameologist and you can afford to be a regular drinker.
In other unrelated news, NBC also ran a segment on drinks......and my favorite whorehouse was named......if you cut out one regular soda and one grande loaded coffee per day, you can lose one pound per week....just from the cut in sugar alone. That is, if you're a Nameologist and you can afford to be a regular drinker.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Internet Poker at Panera
As any of you that read my blog on a regular basis know, I love to sit at Panera and do what I need to get done. Not only does it provide a change of scenery from my own house where I seem to spend a lot of time, it also provides me with endless hours of entertainment.
Tonite for example, I'm at Panera. Innocently enough, I am trying to study for my Spanish class. I choose a table in the far back corner, tucked away from everyone, fully anticipating the first sip of my Caffe Mocha and a few hours of uninterrupted study time. After spending nearly 10 years in college, I should know that the library would be a better choice.
I was not here more than 10 minutes when two couples with two small babies arrived....and promptly set up camp right next to me. No, I don't mean, like a few tables over. I mean, the entire restaurant was empty and they actually moved my laptop bag to sit down. Ugh. To make matters entirely worse, they were here, on vacation from somewhere in the deep south and one clearly has an internet gambling problem.
As their babies (whose names are Journey and Star) are screaming, the two women are casually eating their dinner while one bitches that she just had to transfer $600 out of her checking account to cover her husbands gambling debt. "I told him he needs to quit doing that...."
Here's an idea - don't take him somewhere that has free internet access and then allow him to bring his laptop to dinner. And, while you're at it, change tables and feed your goddamn screaming kid who is clearly hungry and wants his bottle back that he threw on the floor.
For whatever reason, the southern gentleman lost his connection to his poker game and has spent the last 5 minutes complaining to the management here at Panera that their internet connection sucked. Geez....I never lost my connection. Maybe the poker people kicked you off because you owe them money????
As his wife tries to pacify him by telling him she'll call the people tomorrow and straighten it out, I fight my overwhelming urge to tap her on the shoulder and say, "Look sweetheart, cash in now while you've still got the trailer and the cinder blocks it's sittin' on."
Anyway, I must get back to studying my espanol....even though after 4 weeks, I still don't understand a damn word except Hola.
Tonite for example, I'm at Panera. Innocently enough, I am trying to study for my Spanish class. I choose a table in the far back corner, tucked away from everyone, fully anticipating the first sip of my Caffe Mocha and a few hours of uninterrupted study time. After spending nearly 10 years in college, I should know that the library would be a better choice.
I was not here more than 10 minutes when two couples with two small babies arrived....and promptly set up camp right next to me. No, I don't mean, like a few tables over. I mean, the entire restaurant was empty and they actually moved my laptop bag to sit down. Ugh. To make matters entirely worse, they were here, on vacation from somewhere in the deep south and one clearly has an internet gambling problem.
As their babies (whose names are Journey and Star) are screaming, the two women are casually eating their dinner while one bitches that she just had to transfer $600 out of her checking account to cover her husbands gambling debt. "I told him he needs to quit doing that...."
Here's an idea - don't take him somewhere that has free internet access and then allow him to bring his laptop to dinner. And, while you're at it, change tables and feed your goddamn screaming kid who is clearly hungry and wants his bottle back that he threw on the floor.
For whatever reason, the southern gentleman lost his connection to his poker game and has spent the last 5 minutes complaining to the management here at Panera that their internet connection sucked. Geez....I never lost my connection. Maybe the poker people kicked you off because you owe them money????
As his wife tries to pacify him by telling him she'll call the people tomorrow and straighten it out, I fight my overwhelming urge to tap her on the shoulder and say, "Look sweetheart, cash in now while you've still got the trailer and the cinder blocks it's sittin' on."
Anyway, I must get back to studying my espanol....even though after 4 weeks, I still don't understand a damn word except Hola.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Enjoy the Silence
Do you hear that? You don't? I do. It's complete and total silence, and it's playing at my house.....
That's right. Just two days ago, we dropped the kid off at Logan International Airport on a direct flight to ATL. Although the actual dropping off was excruciatingly early and I hadn't even had a cup of coffee before getting in to an argument with a Delta ticket lady, it went relatively easy. Yes, there were tears shed....I mean, this was a big step. Eight years old and on a great big plane with no one to control her except a flight attendant. Plus, I was a little concerned that, with her friendly disposition and all, she'd be led off in cuffs before the plane started to taxi.
After shuffling her on the plane, I was asked to hang out at the gate until the plane left. I'm sure they heard me threatening her great bodily injury for any unbecoming behavior. While I was waiting, I got to check out Larry King Live....and his interview with Dog the Bounty Hunter. Now, I don't like to be a hater on Dog, and we all know I love a good mullet, but COME ON!!!!! Are you serious?
Imagine my surprise when I looked at the television, bleary eyed and coffee stained at 5am on a Saturday morning and there sits Dog, in a leopard print silk shirt, unbuttoned to his navel, with his gold dog tags (ha ha!) and that mullet. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It's like a train wreck! You don't want to be caught looking, yet you can't look away!
Then you've got his wife up there next to him in a hot pink pleather dress. She had no business wearing such a thing, for Christs' sake, she's not 21 and she's not a small girl. But, after all, isn't their whole life about making a big old statement?
Anyway, I get sidetracked. So, we've got peace and quiet for 3 whole weeks while the kid is in Atlanta, terrorizing her other biological parent and his much younger girlfriend. Bless them both because I don't think either of them have a clue what they're in for.
As for the rest of our weekend, I started drinking mimosas at about 11 Saturday morning and I think we rolled back to the hotel around midnight. Needless to say, it was fun and I found my future husband getting quite chummy with a bridal party and their inflatable penis....if he ever gives me back my camera, I'll post the pictures.
That's right. Just two days ago, we dropped the kid off at Logan International Airport on a direct flight to ATL. Although the actual dropping off was excruciatingly early and I hadn't even had a cup of coffee before getting in to an argument with a Delta ticket lady, it went relatively easy. Yes, there were tears shed....I mean, this was a big step. Eight years old and on a great big plane with no one to control her except a flight attendant. Plus, I was a little concerned that, with her friendly disposition and all, she'd be led off in cuffs before the plane started to taxi.
After shuffling her on the plane, I was asked to hang out at the gate until the plane left. I'm sure they heard me threatening her great bodily injury for any unbecoming behavior. While I was waiting, I got to check out Larry King Live....and his interview with Dog the Bounty Hunter. Now, I don't like to be a hater on Dog, and we all know I love a good mullet, but COME ON!!!!! Are you serious?
Imagine my surprise when I looked at the television, bleary eyed and coffee stained at 5am on a Saturday morning and there sits Dog, in a leopard print silk shirt, unbuttoned to his navel, with his gold dog tags (ha ha!) and that mullet. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It's like a train wreck! You don't want to be caught looking, yet you can't look away!
Then you've got his wife up there next to him in a hot pink pleather dress. She had no business wearing such a thing, for Christs' sake, she's not 21 and she's not a small girl. But, after all, isn't their whole life about making a big old statement?
Anyway, I get sidetracked. So, we've got peace and quiet for 3 whole weeks while the kid is in Atlanta, terrorizing her other biological parent and his much younger girlfriend. Bless them both because I don't think either of them have a clue what they're in for.
As for the rest of our weekend, I started drinking mimosas at about 11 Saturday morning and I think we rolled back to the hotel around midnight. Needless to say, it was fun and I found my future husband getting quite chummy with a bridal party and their inflatable penis....if he ever gives me back my camera, I'll post the pictures.
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