The Shining Difference Between Men and Women

Is their ability to handle being sick.

Truly. I've never seen anything like it. The boy rarely gets sick. Several weeks ago, I had that damn head cold that's been going around for what seems like ever. Now, just three days ago, the boy got it.

And life has been hell since.

It's not just the sheer bitchiness that is radiating from his pores; it's also the constant whining that's going on.

".....uuuggghhhh.....God......I feel like I'm dying......"

*cough, cough, sniffle, sniffle*......"can you bring me some popsicles.....please????"

And let's not forget the endless hours that his ass has been laying on the couch.

Because I'm such a bitch, I've reminded him that when I was sick for 3 weeks, I never once laid on the couch. No, I still ran the carpool, and made it to the hockey games, and took the kid to swim practice, and cooked dinner, and shoveled the driveway.....oh yes, and worked.

Do I sound bitter?

Geeky Stuff I'm Digging.

With my new career and all, I've had the opportunity to play with some pretty cool websites. So, in case you're in the mood, check them out (and don't comment saying, "well duh, I've been using this for EVER!" Just because I'm not at the top of the tech savvy mountain doesn't mean you have to burst my bubble.....lol....)

Jing :: I was first introduced to Jing via a client. This is great and cute. When it's turned on, it sits like a little sunshine on your desktop; when you want to use it, you click and suddenly these cross-hairs show up. Highlight what you want to take a picture of and viola! Upload it to a website that you can give the URL out to, share it in you IM'r, or save it as a .png file and post it anywhere! Very fun.

Clipmarks :: I cannot tell you how many webpages I have bookmarked because I want two sentences of information that is written there. Half the time, when I finally get back there, the page is long gone. So, in comes "clipmarks," where you can clip just the bits you want and save them to wherever; email them to your friends, add them to your facebook page, or put them in your library. Love it!!! This also happens to be an add-on for Firefox and Internet Explorer both.

Jott :: I think I've gotten more use out of this than anything else. When you set up a Jott account, you can put them on speed dial. Then, you're in traffic and you think, "Oh crap, the kid has a State swim meet 2 hours away next weekend. I forgot to book a hotel room!!" But, since you're driving, you can't (or at least shouldn't) grab a pen and paper and start jotting the note. Instead, hit speed dial, leave yourself a message and then Jott will email it to you or send it via text message so you have a hard copy!!! Now, I know, you could just as easily send yourself a message to your home voice mail, but a lot of you probably don't have home phones anymore......just a thought......

Scrabulous :: Ok, Meg blogged about this one first, but it's addicting. If you like the game Scrabble and you feel like wasting some serious time, go check it out. I am giving you fair warning though, the game gets addicted.

OK, that's all I've got. Check 'em out. Or not. Either way, have a happy Friday!

Barack Obama :: He's Going to Get the Golden Ticket

That's what the kid just said to me; no joke. And then there was this:

"Mumma? If Orack Obama wins, can he change the rules?"
"Well, yeah, sort of."
"Can he say it's okay for kids to vote?"
"Um....well......it's not really that simple."
"But he could say it, right?"
"Yes, he could say it."

And yes, she says his name without the "B" and yes, she might be the only 8-year-old on the street that can't wait to put her campaign sign in her bedroom window and her bumper sticker on her bike.

Bless her heart.

Three Types of Weight Watchers

After attending Weight Watchers Meetings for the last month or so, I've realized that there are three distinct types of people that attend these meetings.

1. The average joes. These are the people just like me and my WW buddy. While not overweight, we're not underweight. We know that the mid-thirties spread is just around the corner, and we're not yet mature enough to tell each other to "put the donut down." We eat arrogantly and constantly promise ourselves that "tomorrow, I'll exercise." We actually need a stranger to put us on a scale each week and give us a scornful look when we've gained 2/10ths of a pound. We are the worst possible candidates for any sort of nutritional program because we are so damn good at justifying what we put in our mouths. We have yet to admit that we have a problem.

2. The attention whores. These are the folks that are, clearly, far too thin to be at Weight Watchers. They sit smugly at the meetings in their tiny little clothes that are shiny and attention-getting. They spend the meetings eagerly raising their hands and volunteering information like, "You know, if you get on your ellipticle machine and crank it up to 10, you'll burn 1,100 calories in an hour." They like the fact that all the other women are bitching about how thin they are. In some sick and twisted way, they find pleasure in being hated by others.

3. The co-dependants. These are my favorites. These are the folks who are truly dedicated and they show up to the meetings religiously - often attending multiple meetings in a week. And they do it, Every. Single. Week. They tell the group how they go out to dinner and take their very own measuring cups and spoons, and some sort of spork like utensil that goes above and beyond the call of duty because it offers a knife feature too. They often speak of that excruciating activity called, "exercise." Yet they only loose 2/10ths of a pound every single week. These are the women that I think secretly eat Little Debbies and Ho-Ho's, just to stall their weight loss. For to be without a Weight Watchers Meeting might be worse than death itself.

Sometimes, even I am ashamed of myself. My sheer mockery of the human life around me is clearly a sign of my truly shallow, bitter, and bitchy character. I think I'll go console myself with some Ho-Ho's now.

Things You Just Don't Want to See

It's a Friday and it didn't snow today; by all accounts, that's a pretty goddamn good day in Maine. So why is it then, that my day was tainted by sights normal people just should not have to witness? Case in point ::

1) Mullet Mom dragging her two kids out of a minivan at 8:30 in the morning, screaming to holy H-E-double-pixie-sticks. Seems Thing 2 bitch-slapped Thing 1 and breaking up a brawl wasn't in mommy-dearest's morning plan.

2) White kids who think they're gangsta's....."whacha say biz-nitch?"

3) A dog smaller than my cat, humping a greyhound. I'm assuming I don't need to elaborate here.

So, how did I soothe myself? In bed with last night's episode of Cashmere Mafia, 3 hours of Sex in the City and a pint of Half Baked. Happy Friday Friends.

Raking the Roof

Lately, we've had a lot of snow 'round these parts. And my someday spouse has spent his time plowing all of it - not our driveway of course.....he's been plowing for other people. Which has left me home alone with the kid, the dog, and a shovel for most of the winter.

Now, I've paid my dues. I've been out there shoveling the driveway during every single storm. Sometimes, I even shovel more than once. And I only complain occasionally about it - most often when I'm standing at the end of the driveway that I just spent three hours shoveling, only to watch the City plow truck turn the corner and bury me again. I've contemplated flipping off the driver, but he's just so damn friendly, waving and smiling at me when he goes by, that I just can't seem to do it. Instead, I start shoveling again, and I swear a lot.

This week, the someday spouse worked for 26 hours straight. I knew he was exhausted, and I did my best to keep up with the snow here. What I failed to do was rake the roof. There are a number of reasons that I didn't do it.....that damn thing is huge, our roof is really tall, and damn it, I just didn't feel like it. So Saturday morning, over coffee, he says to me, "You know, now might be a really good time for you to learn how to use the roof rake."

I'm sure the comment was meant to be innocent. I'm sure it was meant to mean "you know, in case I'm not home for 26-hours and you want to get ahead of the ice damns that are now so heavy they're ripping the gutters off of our half-a-mil-hobbit-house," but, of course, I'm a woman, so I didn't take it that way. Instead, my response was, "Oh, you think so? Well, that's fine. I'll rake the roof. Don't you worry. And I'll shovel the driveway, and the patio, and the deck. Oh, and I'll make sure you have a hot meal on the table too. Don't you worry one little bit honey, you'll never have to ask ME to rake the roof again."

I'm sure you can already see where this is going.

I geared up, got the roof rake, and headed outside. What I didn't realize was just how damn heavy and awkward that thing is. So, as the someday spouse stood in the kitchen with his cup of coffee, I stood on a snowbank behind the house, wildly wielding a 20-foot roof rake. I'm not sure if it was because I almost broke the kitchen window or if it had something to do with the shutter I ripped off the house, but he came outside in a hurry.

I'm pretty sure he won't be asking me to rake the roof again any time soon.

PreTween Hormones

The strangest thing happened today. The kid went grocery shopping with me and was actually helpful. No whining. No spat over Fruit Loops vs. Cheerios. Not even a "but mumma....." when I told her to put back the Hannah Montana magazine that was $10! What?!?

It was then that I realized, she is beginning down that treacherous path of female horomones. Sweet and nice one minute; crying and screaming the next.

I'm scared shitless.