Did you ever write in a journal? I'm not referring to your first "diary" that had a lock on it, that contained your deepest darkest, third grade dramas. I mean a journal that you wrote in when life was just starting to get interesting. High school, college, those years.
I had a huge notebook that served as my journal for the high school years and my friend Sara upgraded me to a real journal when I graduated from high school. Obviously the book like journal is holding up much better than the spiral bound notebook and I'm so glad Sara thought to give me a really nice book for my post graduation journaling. Those entries are much more entertaining to read than the high school stuff.
So that leads me to my next question. If you did keep a journal, have you ever taken time to go back and read the stuff you wrote? I do it all the time. The high school stuff is embarrassing to re-read. My immaturity blatantly jumps right off the pages. I was pitifully stupid and practically soaked, head to toe, with drama. Most of those pages are painful to read. I want to hop in a Delorian equipped with a flex capacitor and go back to 1995 and smack myself. Honestly it just scares the crap out of me because I am currently raising two girls and quietly dreading the teenage years. I beg my daughters, please be smater than me!!!!
The "college" journal (Beauty school totally counts as college) is where the good stuff is. A lot of it was written in a drunken stupor at two in the morning, but it's pure comedy to read it back as a somewhat stable adult. Yes, it's also embarrassing to re-read, but if you sift through the stupidity, you can see little hints of a smart adult starting to unfold. I had a clear idea of what I wanted my immediate future to look like and in so many ways, it all turned out better than I'd hoped.
The hardest parts to read are the on again, off again boyfriend dramas. I wasted so much time in a dead end relationship and the worst part about it was that I knew how horrible the relationship was while I floundered in and out of it. I had very little hope that I'd ever meet someone that would be the right fit for me. I was certain that I would absolutely have to settle, from day one, if I ever wanted to get married. I believed that I couldn't truly just be myself and find real love that was fit for me. I aspired to it, but for whatever reason I didn't believe I'd ever find it.
That didn't stop me from going out with a wild spectrum of guys. Let me add that all these dudes are the absolute highlight of that journal. I met some of Ogden's most charismatic bar flies. Guys with lots of swag and game. Guys that would have been perfect for me if they'd just avoided a few bad decisions prior to our meeting. But that's life right. That's what everyone means when they say that the "timing" just wasn't right. It's so true. Timing plays such huge role in the world of love and relationships. You have to meet when the timing is right or it just won't have a chance to unfold properly.
I ran out of pages in my college journal at the exact right time. The book ends just after I met my future husband, Dave. It's a happy ending I'd say (after 10+ years of marriage I sometimes question that statement). I found a great guy and learned the major lesson that would finish that chapter in my life. I figured out that you don't have to settle. When you meet "the one", you won't have to work at making it work. You'll fall in love and the first few years should basically be a love tranced, breeze (the work phase of the relationship will come later). You won't have to play all the dumb games. If Dave wanted to talk to me, he called me. If he wanted to see me, he'd tell me. He wanted to be with me all the time and I wanted to be with him all the time. What a simple, yet refreshing concept. We wanted each other at the same time! This is the magic glue that is so tough to find in the "dating" world. The timing was right. Are we perfect? Not even a little bit, but ultimately we both must want to be together, because we are.
If a relationship is hard in the beginning, I'm afraid you'll have very little hope of it ever getting easier. Grown up life and kids will complicate your relationship enough. You have to have some sort of foundation that is solid. Life will get tough. Marriage will make you long to punch your spouse in the face from time to time. But going back and reading that old journal helps me remember what life was really like before I met an uncomplicated, great guy. That's my foundation.
Give your kid journal. Let them teach themselves a lesson.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Happy Questions
The word "happy" is a big one. We all want this magical thing called happiness, but have you ever stopped to ask yourself what exactly that is? I think about the meaning of that word all the time. So far as I can tell, it's all relative. The definition of that big word is very personal. Your definition will be determined by where you're at in your life and your circumstances.
If you've lived an easy life, your answer will be vastly different than that of a person living with heavier burdens. I often hear stories of Americans visiting third world countries and seeing first hand the horrible living conditions of so many people in the world. The first assumption it that a person living in extreme poverty would be unhappy. But often it turns out that these people are the happiest. I don't know if the simplicity of their lives attributes to that or if their definition of contentment is skewed by their understanding of true hardship.
Honestly, I've never lived true hardship. Electricity, plumbing and my ease of access to clean water has eliminated almost all hardship from my life. When all of our basic needs are met, we start creating problems for ourselves. We have plenty of time freed up every day to create drama where none exists. Survival has been removed from my equation and now I'm left to stress about my broken iPod and the difficulty of passing level 97 on Candy Crush Saga. My kids are also victims of this. Lyla can pitch a serious fit about wearing pants when she had her heart set on a dress or her Youtube video that just isn't loading fast enough. Tiny "problems" and minuscule dramas are far to easy to create in our heads when all our true needs are met and our lives are filled with excess. This is why it's so easy for me to feel like I have so many problems and a person living in a shack, walking miles for clean water can be happy. It's absurd, but true.
That being said, ask yourself these questions and get to know yourself a little better today.
1. Are you happy?
2. What is happiness?
3. What do you believe you need to be happy?
4. What did you once believe would bring you happiness that you have since learned doesn't?
5. Do you have any problems that are insurmountable?
6. Are you happy now that you've really thought about it?
If you've lived an easy life, your answer will be vastly different than that of a person living with heavier burdens. I often hear stories of Americans visiting third world countries and seeing first hand the horrible living conditions of so many people in the world. The first assumption it that a person living in extreme poverty would be unhappy. But often it turns out that these people are the happiest. I don't know if the simplicity of their lives attributes to that or if their definition of contentment is skewed by their understanding of true hardship.
Honestly, I've never lived true hardship. Electricity, plumbing and my ease of access to clean water has eliminated almost all hardship from my life. When all of our basic needs are met, we start creating problems for ourselves. We have plenty of time freed up every day to create drama where none exists. Survival has been removed from my equation and now I'm left to stress about my broken iPod and the difficulty of passing level 97 on Candy Crush Saga. My kids are also victims of this. Lyla can pitch a serious fit about wearing pants when she had her heart set on a dress or her Youtube video that just isn't loading fast enough. Tiny "problems" and minuscule dramas are far to easy to create in our heads when all our true needs are met and our lives are filled with excess. This is why it's so easy for me to feel like I have so many problems and a person living in a shack, walking miles for clean water can be happy. It's absurd, but true.
That being said, ask yourself these questions and get to know yourself a little better today.
1. Are you happy?
2. What is happiness?
3. What do you believe you need to be happy?
4. What did you once believe would bring you happiness that you have since learned doesn't?
5. Do you have any problems that are insurmountable?
6. Are you happy now that you've really thought about it?
Friday, April 5, 2013
Book Drought
The Great book drought has begun. I'm desperate and searching. I wish E-harmony had a site that lined up great women with amazing books. Sometimes I wish that I'd never read a really amazing book before, that way all the crap books they pitch to me on Amazon might actually hold my attention. I'm not super picky, but I hate reading super cheesy books, unless it's a cliche love triangle that really tugs at the old heart strings.
I fully admit that I loved the first Twilight book (and the rest of the series, except for New Moon which drove me nuts because I am so team Edward). The Hunger Games books were wonderful too and they really held my attention. After the first 100 dragging pages of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I got VERY sucked into those books as well. The True Blood vampire series was a hit with me also. I loved those books and I remember being so excited that it was going to be made into an HBO series. The first season was good, but then it spun out of control. I'm over the show and the books at this point, because I am so confused about what characters are dead in the show and who's still alive in the books. It just confuses people.
I'm not opposed to best sellers at all, but I struggle to find books that are the right fit for me. After I heard the hype, I did cave and I read the first Fifty Shades of Grey book. Yes, it was super hot and Christian Grey sounds like a nasty guy, but the story was dumb. I couldn't stomach the second book and I abandoned it after two chapters. I want an unforgettable story. I honestly can't even recall what the plot of Fifty Shades of Grey was. Sex, was that the plot? Can that be a plot? I guess so, but it's not really what I'm looking for.
I've got a new book on my nightstand, but I don't have a verdict on it just yet. It seems good so far, but we'll wait and see where it goes. Hopefully a storm of great books comes my way and the drought will come to an end.
I'm So Sorry Bruno
A while back I wrote a post about the big Victoria's Secret Fashion show. I still think the whole show is merely a vehicle for anorexic models to find their newest rock star boyfriends and maybe a little bit of network tame porn to boost ratings. They ain't selling lingerie! That's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.
One part of the show that I do like is the music. They always have great bands and singers playing live on the runway and it makes the show tolerable to normal women. Justin Bieber was there and that won me over for sure. The Biebs can do no wrong (I don't care if you smoke a little weed Biebs, you deserve it. You work hard and that Selena Gomez break-up was probably tough on you. You should drink a little liquor too, I don't care if you're underage. I won't judge you a bit.). They also had Bruno Mars perform. Before that performance, I will totally admit that I HATED Bruno Mars music. I would change the channel immediately if his horrible "Grenade" song came on the radio. I didn't get it and I didn't want to. Well, it turns out that he's a hell of an entertainer on a stage. He's got charisma up the yin yang and it's enjoyable to watch. I still didn't care for his songs, but I knew that he was a little firecracker and I could get on board if he was singing the right tunes. That being said though, I still talked a lot of trash on him in my Victoria's Secret post.
Fast forward 6 months and I'm sold. This tiny little fella put out a new CD and I've only heard a few songs, but I love them. This "Locked Outta Heaven" song that he played at the Grammy's with Sting is fantas-mic! This is some grade "A", kick ass pop music and I love it. I even bought this track, with real money, on iTunes and so I felt like he deserved an apology.
I'm sorry Bruno. I was wrong. You're Grenade song is still HORRIBLE, but you've outdone yourself with this new song and I can officially say that I like you. My running shoes thank you!
One part of the show that I do like is the music. They always have great bands and singers playing live on the runway and it makes the show tolerable to normal women. Justin Bieber was there and that won me over for sure. The Biebs can do no wrong (I don't care if you smoke a little weed Biebs, you deserve it. You work hard and that Selena Gomez break-up was probably tough on you. You should drink a little liquor too, I don't care if you're underage. I won't judge you a bit.). They also had Bruno Mars perform. Before that performance, I will totally admit that I HATED Bruno Mars music. I would change the channel immediately if his horrible "Grenade" song came on the radio. I didn't get it and I didn't want to. Well, it turns out that he's a hell of an entertainer on a stage. He's got charisma up the yin yang and it's enjoyable to watch. I still didn't care for his songs, but I knew that he was a little firecracker and I could get on board if he was singing the right tunes. That being said though, I still talked a lot of trash on him in my Victoria's Secret post.
Fast forward 6 months and I'm sold. This tiny little fella put out a new CD and I've only heard a few songs, but I love them. This "Locked Outta Heaven" song that he played at the Grammy's with Sting is fantas-mic! This is some grade "A", kick ass pop music and I love it. I even bought this track, with real money, on iTunes and so I felt like he deserved an apology.
I'm sorry Bruno. I was wrong. You're Grenade song is still HORRIBLE, but you've outdone yourself with this new song and I can officially say that I like you. My running shoes thank you!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Candid Kids
Anyone that's friends with me on Facebook knows that I have some funny kids. I'm always (probably too much) sharing the hilarious, random comments that my kids say. I can't help it though. These kids really crack me up some days. My oldest, Sasha, is usually the star of these posts, but Lyla is really coming into her own with the one liners.
Last week we were eating breakfast and out of nowhere, my four year old says, "So after Jesus made me, was I just like out in space with my space helmet on?" I'm not exactly sure myself on the details of her where abouts before she was born, so I told her that I didn't think so. I guessed that she was in my tummy at that point. She then said, "With my space helmet on???" I don't know kid.
So the other day we are sitting in a waiting room with several strangers and a woman smiles at Lyla. My daughter then looks at me and very loudly says, "That lady just smiled at me mom. She smiled because I'm the cutest thing she's ever seen in the whole wide land." Everyone in the place sort of giggled a bit. A few minutes pass and some people leave the room and new folks arrive. It's pretty quiet now and Lyla has new information to share.
"Who did that fart?" I quietly shake my head at her, hoping that she'll stop. This kid goes C.S.I. when it comes to flatulence. She won't stop until she solves the case. It plagues her. "I heard a fart mom. Who did that fart? Sasha, did you do that fart?" I am about to crack up, but I shake my head again, encouraging her to drop the subject. Sasha tells her that she is NOT responsible for the fart and tells Lyla to stop it. Lyla then says, "Probably one of them did it", and she gestures toward the strangers in the room who are desperately trying to ignore my kid. Now I am embarrassed for all of us. She then thankfully wraps it up with this little gem, "Well, maybe I probably did it. Sorry!"
In the end, I'm just thankful that it was the fart thing she latched on to. At age four, it could have been a lot worse. Lyla has hit an age where she is certain that any woman with an over sized belly has at least a couple of babies in her tummy. I will be mortified if this guess of hers is ever revealed in a quiet waiting room. We usually hear that one at grocery stores or restaurants where other noise drowns it out. We also get Sasha's fashion police comments like, "Wow, that outfit is VERY inappropriate. I can see way too much of that ladies boobs. She really needs a belt too mom, because I can see the top of her butt. Who's mom would let them dress like that?"
Inappropriate is one of the most used words in this house. I like that the kids are getting a feel for what is appropriate and what seems very inappropriate, especially when it relates to clothing choices. It probably doesn't help that they read US Weekly magazine while they get their hair done each day. As soon as those kids step foot in my salon, they simply can't sit down in my chair without grabbing a gossip magazine. They love to critique every one's ensemble. No one is safe, not even Miley Cyrus's dad, Brad Pitt.
Sasha is absolutely certain that these two people are the same man. They are both Miley's dad, and they both need to tell Miley that her outfits have been VERY inappropriate lately, and that her hair looks better longer.
Honest too a fault I guess. I shouldn't enjoy their comments nearly as much as I do.
Last week we were eating breakfast and out of nowhere, my four year old says, "So after Jesus made me, was I just like out in space with my space helmet on?" I'm not exactly sure myself on the details of her where abouts before she was born, so I told her that I didn't think so. I guessed that she was in my tummy at that point. She then said, "With my space helmet on???" I don't know kid.
So the other day we are sitting in a waiting room with several strangers and a woman smiles at Lyla. My daughter then looks at me and very loudly says, "That lady just smiled at me mom. She smiled because I'm the cutest thing she's ever seen in the whole wide land." Everyone in the place sort of giggled a bit. A few minutes pass and some people leave the room and new folks arrive. It's pretty quiet now and Lyla has new information to share.
"Who did that fart?" I quietly shake my head at her, hoping that she'll stop. This kid goes C.S.I. when it comes to flatulence. She won't stop until she solves the case. It plagues her. "I heard a fart mom. Who did that fart? Sasha, did you do that fart?" I am about to crack up, but I shake my head again, encouraging her to drop the subject. Sasha tells her that she is NOT responsible for the fart and tells Lyla to stop it. Lyla then says, "Probably one of them did it", and she gestures toward the strangers in the room who are desperately trying to ignore my kid. Now I am embarrassed for all of us. She then thankfully wraps it up with this little gem, "Well, maybe I probably did it. Sorry!"
In the end, I'm just thankful that it was the fart thing she latched on to. At age four, it could have been a lot worse. Lyla has hit an age where she is certain that any woman with an over sized belly has at least a couple of babies in her tummy. I will be mortified if this guess of hers is ever revealed in a quiet waiting room. We usually hear that one at grocery stores or restaurants where other noise drowns it out. We also get Sasha's fashion police comments like, "Wow, that outfit is VERY inappropriate. I can see way too much of that ladies boobs. She really needs a belt too mom, because I can see the top of her butt. Who's mom would let them dress like that?"
Inappropriate is one of the most used words in this house. I like that the kids are getting a feel for what is appropriate and what seems very inappropriate, especially when it relates to clothing choices. It probably doesn't help that they read US Weekly magazine while they get their hair done each day. As soon as those kids step foot in my salon, they simply can't sit down in my chair without grabbing a gossip magazine. They love to critique every one's ensemble. No one is safe, not even Miley Cyrus's dad, Brad Pitt.
 |
| Brad Pitt |
 |
| Billy Ray Cyrus |
Sasha is absolutely certain that these two people are the same man. They are both Miley's dad, and they both need to tell Miley that her outfits have been VERY inappropriate lately, and that her hair looks better longer.
Honest too a fault I guess. I shouldn't enjoy their comments nearly as much as I do.
Monday, March 25, 2013
James Franco
My friend Jessica and I went to the movies over the weekend. She is my perfect movie date. We love a good R-rated flick, especially if it's a comedy. We have the same taste in shows. So when I called her up and told her we should go see Spring Breakers, she was totally on board.
So we sit down in the theater and within five minutes of the movie starting, we look at each other and Jessica says, "We'll give it five more minutes." Everyone knows exactly what that means. She and I are NOT prudes at all. I was a wild child myself, but this movie took it a million steps further instantly. I think we might have been close to being slightly offended by the content of the show. A movie has to be pretty crude to make me and Jessica feel like old maids. We were both like, "Whoa, we are totally moms now!!!" It freaked us out about raising our own daughters in the world today.
I love Selena Gomez and the whole first half of the show we were just hoping that Selena would smarten up and get away from her awful, foul mouthed, dirty, violent friends. I couldn't relax until she was 100 miles away from all the Spring Break debauchery. We both wanted her to be safe. I just kept thinking, run Selena! Justin Bieber will take you back and keep you safe girl! What the hell are you doing in Florida anyway?
We stayed for the entire, crazy, movie though. It was only an hour and a half, but it got super weird. I wouldn't recommend this show to anyone, but I have to say that James Franco was amazing. He was completely unrecognizable and he played the thuggy, trashy, drug dealer type to perfection. He was like a skinnier Kevin Federline. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am with him. If this movie were anything other than "Spring Breakers", he would be up for an Oscar for sure. The dude is committed when he's playing a part. Jessica works for Delta and she always sees James at the airport. I told her she needs to ask him if he was super uncomfortable during some of the scenes in this dirty movie. How could he not be? My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Good work James. I hope you got to keep that shiny grill as a souvenir!
P.S.
My spell checker always has to try to correct me on the same words. When is this system going to learn that "Bieber" is a word and "Thuggy" is a word?
So we sit down in the theater and within five minutes of the movie starting, we look at each other and Jessica says, "We'll give it five more minutes." Everyone knows exactly what that means. She and I are NOT prudes at all. I was a wild child myself, but this movie took it a million steps further instantly. I think we might have been close to being slightly offended by the content of the show. A movie has to be pretty crude to make me and Jessica feel like old maids. We were both like, "Whoa, we are totally moms now!!!" It freaked us out about raising our own daughters in the world today.
I love Selena Gomez and the whole first half of the show we were just hoping that Selena would smarten up and get away from her awful, foul mouthed, dirty, violent friends. I couldn't relax until she was 100 miles away from all the Spring Break debauchery. We both wanted her to be safe. I just kept thinking, run Selena! Justin Bieber will take you back and keep you safe girl! What the hell are you doing in Florida anyway?
We stayed for the entire, crazy, movie though. It was only an hour and a half, but it got super weird. I wouldn't recommend this show to anyone, but I have to say that James Franco was amazing. He was completely unrecognizable and he played the thuggy, trashy, drug dealer type to perfection. He was like a skinnier Kevin Federline. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am with him. If this movie were anything other than "Spring Breakers", he would be up for an Oscar for sure. The dude is committed when he's playing a part. Jessica works for Delta and she always sees James at the airport. I told her she needs to ask him if he was super uncomfortable during some of the scenes in this dirty movie. How could he not be? My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Good work James. I hope you got to keep that shiny grill as a souvenir!
Isn't this a crazy transformation? That guy up there normally looks like this guy down here.
Good hair and clothes make a huge difference.
My spell checker always has to try to correct me on the same words. When is this system going to learn that "Bieber" is a word and "Thuggy" is a word?
Thursday, March 21, 2013
A Case for a Bounce House
Having kids has taught me so much about the world. Like for instance, the world DOES NOT revolve around me (blew my mind) and no one cares if my dinner is cold when I sit down to eat it. My kids also taught me that my living room floor is covered, not by carpet, but by an alarming amount of hot molten lava. So much so that my kids are often forced to tear apart my pricey leather couch and jump from one cushion to another just to avoid burning to death in said lava. While I appreciate their caution, I also found myself getting really sick and tired of reassembling my couch everyday. That's when the stroke of genius hit me. I don't need a nice looking living room with couches that never get sat on. I need a trampoline or bounce house.
I remembering seeing the movie Big when I was a kid. Tom Hanks had two things that rarely go together. A kids mentality and money. He got himself a huge loft apartment and filled it with everything a kid could possibly want, full size arcade games, Foosball table, toys and a trampoline. I was so inspired by his awesome loft apartment. I swore right then and there that I would put a trampoline inside my house when I became an adult and I had my own money. I also vowed to own my own roller rink and marry the lead singer of Skid Row. The roller rink and the rock star proved to be beyond my grasp, but I can totally purchase a trampoline. I ended up marrying a grown up though and the trampoline plan was quickly vetoed. So I went with the next best thing, an inflatable bounce house.
I told Dave my plan and he was not on board. The following weekend was my daughters birthday and we went to Boondocks (a family fun center) to celebrate. We came home with thin wallets, loads of junky toys and my oldest daughter got the best souvenir of all....Pink Eye! Dave, ever the raging germaphobe, immediately concluded that we would never again visit the germ ridden Boondocks. The kids were devastated by the news and I realized I finally had a great angle to sell him my bounce house pitch. It would be our very own, "uncontaminated", brand new "clean" bounce house and our kids could be super entertained without picking up all the kid sicknesses that plague our house and Dave's brain. SOLD!
I looked at a ton of them online and decide which one I wanted and I ordered it. Five days later it arrived on my porch and five minutes after that my couch was pushed up against the wall and we were bouncing. My kids were thrilled and they felt compelled to build up my mother ego again and again by telling me, and I quote, "You are the best mom in the whole world!" Gee thanks, and just yesterday I was called the meanest mom on the planet for insisting that my kid get her homework finished before we left for school. It's a manic life with young kids.
So here's the verdict. I am very happy with my purchase. This thing inflates in 20 seconds and deflated in a minute. Supposedly it folds up small enough to fit in a duffel bag, though we've yet to find a reason to put it away. My kids haven't had any interest in the T.V. (except for some Mario kart racing) and the couch hasn't been touched since the day the bounce house arrived. It's absolutely wonderful and if someone comes into my house and thinks it looks stupid sitting there in the living room, they are free to turn around and leave. So far though, everyone seems to love it just as much as we do.
I remembering seeing the movie Big when I was a kid. Tom Hanks had two things that rarely go together. A kids mentality and money. He got himself a huge loft apartment and filled it with everything a kid could possibly want, full size arcade games, Foosball table, toys and a trampoline. I was so inspired by his awesome loft apartment. I swore right then and there that I would put a trampoline inside my house when I became an adult and I had my own money. I also vowed to own my own roller rink and marry the lead singer of Skid Row. The roller rink and the rock star proved to be beyond my grasp, but I can totally purchase a trampoline. I ended up marrying a grown up though and the trampoline plan was quickly vetoed. So I went with the next best thing, an inflatable bounce house.
I told Dave my plan and he was not on board. The following weekend was my daughters birthday and we went to Boondocks (a family fun center) to celebrate. We came home with thin wallets, loads of junky toys and my oldest daughter got the best souvenir of all....Pink Eye! Dave, ever the raging germaphobe, immediately concluded that we would never again visit the germ ridden Boondocks. The kids were devastated by the news and I realized I finally had a great angle to sell him my bounce house pitch. It would be our very own, "uncontaminated", brand new "clean" bounce house and our kids could be super entertained without picking up all the kid sicknesses that plague our house and Dave's brain. SOLD!
I looked at a ton of them online and decide which one I wanted and I ordered it. Five days later it arrived on my porch and five minutes after that my couch was pushed up against the wall and we were bouncing. My kids were thrilled and they felt compelled to build up my mother ego again and again by telling me, and I quote, "You are the best mom in the whole world!" Gee thanks, and just yesterday I was called the meanest mom on the planet for insisting that my kid get her homework finished before we left for school. It's a manic life with young kids.
So here's the verdict. I am very happy with my purchase. This thing inflates in 20 seconds and deflated in a minute. Supposedly it folds up small enough to fit in a duffel bag, though we've yet to find a reason to put it away. My kids haven't had any interest in the T.V. (except for some Mario kart racing) and the couch hasn't been touched since the day the bounce house arrived. It's absolutely wonderful and if someone comes into my house and thinks it looks stupid sitting there in the living room, they are free to turn around and leave. So far though, everyone seems to love it just as much as we do.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Confessions of a Candy Crush Addict
I made a horrible confession on Facebook yesterday. It was painful to do, but there is something so nice about outing yourself via social media. I confessed that I am horribly addicted to the game Candy Crush Saga. It's so true and very embarrassing.
This dumb game was introduced to me on Facebook, but it's a really popular free ap that you can download. Free being the key word here. I adore free games and I make fun of anyone who would pay real money to download a game or buy "boosters" that would get them further in the game. Paying money for this stuff is absurd because you don't have a chance of winning any real prize by beating your game. It's not like you're gambling in Vegas and you actually stand a slim chance of hitting a jackpot. If I get to the end of Candy Crush Saga I will not win anything. I would probably just be sad that it was over and my house would finally get a good cleaning.
Yesterday I became my worst nightmare. I could not pass a certain level of Candy Crush and I did what I swore I would NEVER do. I bought some boosters...with real money. I paid five dollars and I received boosters that would give me 5 more moves and boosters that would explode tons of candy. It paid off immediately because within a few minutes I passed several difficult levels of my game. This thrilled me to no end. I also had the joy of hitting rock bottom in my life. What have I become? How did this happen? It was so quick and easy to hand over my real money and I found out how the other half lives. I don't want to be like that. I want to hoard my money. I want to pass those levels without the aid of costly boosters. I crossed a line I never wanted to cross and it felt dirty.
Confessing all of this was wonderful. There is no way in hell that I'm going to send another penny to the Candy Crush creators. It won't happen. One of my girlfriends that I used to work with added a great comment under that Facebook confession. She said, "Don't tell Dave! You'll be in trouble!" She knows me and Dave all to well. I would be in big trouble and that's just fine with me, because I would punch Dave in the face if he spent real money on a game as dumb as Candy Crush Saga. I would change the passwords on the Paypal account and take away his credit card. I would Freak the Freak as we say in this house and I am certain he would do the same. That's exactly why I didn't mention this to him.
I will continue to play the dumb game and I swear that I will never again pay for a booster. It's times like this that I feel thankful that Facebook doesn't offer me instant shots of heroine by clicking "okay" to the credit card charges. God only knows where I'd be now if they did.
This dumb game was introduced to me on Facebook, but it's a really popular free ap that you can download. Free being the key word here. I adore free games and I make fun of anyone who would pay real money to download a game or buy "boosters" that would get them further in the game. Paying money for this stuff is absurd because you don't have a chance of winning any real prize by beating your game. It's not like you're gambling in Vegas and you actually stand a slim chance of hitting a jackpot. If I get to the end of Candy Crush Saga I will not win anything. I would probably just be sad that it was over and my house would finally get a good cleaning.
Yesterday I became my worst nightmare. I could not pass a certain level of Candy Crush and I did what I swore I would NEVER do. I bought some boosters...with real money. I paid five dollars and I received boosters that would give me 5 more moves and boosters that would explode tons of candy. It paid off immediately because within a few minutes I passed several difficult levels of my game. This thrilled me to no end. I also had the joy of hitting rock bottom in my life. What have I become? How did this happen? It was so quick and easy to hand over my real money and I found out how the other half lives. I don't want to be like that. I want to hoard my money. I want to pass those levels without the aid of costly boosters. I crossed a line I never wanted to cross and it felt dirty.
Confessing all of this was wonderful. There is no way in hell that I'm going to send another penny to the Candy Crush creators. It won't happen. One of my girlfriends that I used to work with added a great comment under that Facebook confession. She said, "Don't tell Dave! You'll be in trouble!" She knows me and Dave all to well. I would be in big trouble and that's just fine with me, because I would punch Dave in the face if he spent real money on a game as dumb as Candy Crush Saga. I would change the passwords on the Paypal account and take away his credit card. I would Freak the Freak as we say in this house and I am certain he would do the same. That's exactly why I didn't mention this to him.
I will continue to play the dumb game and I swear that I will never again pay for a booster. It's times like this that I feel thankful that Facebook doesn't offer me instant shots of heroine by clicking "okay" to the credit card charges. God only knows where I'd be now if they did.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Post Bachelor Depression
While I totally loved the finale of the Bachelor last night, I'm overcome with Post Bachelor Depression. Dancing With the Stars doesn't fill that Monday night void for me. Magical Mondays are gone until ABC can drum up some more of that sweet Bachelor drama for me. I'd kill for a new season of Bachelor Pad, but I haven't even heard whispers of one on the horizon. I'm truly shocked by this because there are so many gorgeous rejects left over from Sean's season. These women need a shot at Bachelor Pad. ABC can save a little money on the casting of it because I volunteer to do it for free! I was made for that job.
So back to the finale. I was totally rooting for Catherine half way into the episode. Lindsey is great too, but there was something so much more genuine and real about the pain and angst that Catherine was going through. It was so honest and heartfelt. I LOVED when Sean kissed her goodnight and left her room and she went after him. That's love for sure. I was not sure why Chris Harrison chose to make such a big deal about the moment when Catherine professed her love to Sean and he didn't say it back. He's not allowed to say it back. He touched his forehead to hers and I knew right then and there that he loved her back. I thought it was so tender. I was getting a little teary eyed about it.
The ending was magical. The letter, the gold dress, the hyperventilating. I loved every second of it. It worked out so perfect. Lindsey will look back on this experience and be thankful that Sean didn't propose to her. It will take time, but she will eventually come to accept that you don't want to be wearing that HORRIBLE silver dress of hers when you get engaged. It was so beyond awful. It gave her no shape at all and she just looked like a walking fish, a Salmon perhaps. I hated it so bad that I wonder if it didn't make it easier for Sean to dump her.
I'm very much looking forward to the televised wedding. Ashley and J.P.'s wedding was so fun to watch and I hope that Catherine and Sean have something similar. I was hoping that they had eloped already and that was the big surprise, but I'll be glad to watch it play out on T.V. All and all. Best Bachelor Finale EVER!
Thursday, March 7, 2013
People I'd Like to Smack
If the words "white trash" offend you, this post might not be for you.
Sometimes I do a little grocery shopping at a sketchy store that is often filled with a mix of bargain hunters (myself included) and the ever interesting members of "meth nation". It's shopping and a show. Sometimes it's entertaining, sometimes it's a frightening look into the future of America. I got the stomach turning glimpse the last time I went.
I stumbled upon a couple with a baby and what appeared to be another bun in the oven (it could have been a monstrous muffin top, but I'm guessing it was a pregnancy). The baby in the carseat was wearing a long sleeved onesie with an unsnapped crotch ( I guess it takes a lot of effort to snap a kids crotch snaps)....and that was the extent of the clothing. No socks, no pants, no coat, no nothing. Dad (I'm assuming here) had head tattoos, which is never a good sign. The head tats appeared to be gang related, which really does make a head tattoo that much worse. It just seems like a very limiting life decision. In this economy I'm not wanting a gang tattoo on my forehead. What if you need a job and only the "Bloods" are hiring and here you've got a "Cryp" tattoo right there on your face?
Mom was also a hot mess in pajama pants and slipper at 1:30 in the afternoon, but we won't even go there. They were ahead of me in the check out line and watching them made me really super excited to go get my taxes done. They had three separate grocery orders on the conveyor belt. Two were paid for with food stamps. That covered all their basics like bread, peanut butter, milk, cheese, eggs and formula. The third order, the one they were paying for, included the most important purchases. They had a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, five 12 packs of Mountain Dew and a boat load of hamburger meat. The total on this grocery order was expensive. Soda and cigarettes can really eat up a grocery budget. I was glad they had those food stamps for the other stuff, because it would have cost them an arm and a leg if they had to pay for all of it themselves!
I paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot, relieved to be out of there and that's where the plot thickened. The lovely family had loaded their groceries into the GMC Yukon and dad sat in the front seat, taking on his I-phone. Mom lit herself a cigarette inside the car, with all the windows closed so that the little kid in the carseat could get all the benefits of a cigarette while still lacking the dexterity to hold a cigarette for herself. Lovely. I drove home feeling so sad for that kid in the carseat with two complete idiots for parents. I thought to myself, what chance does that little girl have for success in the world when her example is dumb and dumber?
Sometimes I do a little grocery shopping at a sketchy store that is often filled with a mix of bargain hunters (myself included) and the ever interesting members of "meth nation". It's shopping and a show. Sometimes it's entertaining, sometimes it's a frightening look into the future of America. I got the stomach turning glimpse the last time I went.
I stumbled upon a couple with a baby and what appeared to be another bun in the oven (it could have been a monstrous muffin top, but I'm guessing it was a pregnancy). The baby in the carseat was wearing a long sleeved onesie with an unsnapped crotch ( I guess it takes a lot of effort to snap a kids crotch snaps)....and that was the extent of the clothing. No socks, no pants, no coat, no nothing. Dad (I'm assuming here) had head tattoos, which is never a good sign. The head tats appeared to be gang related, which really does make a head tattoo that much worse. It just seems like a very limiting life decision. In this economy I'm not wanting a gang tattoo on my forehead. What if you need a job and only the "Bloods" are hiring and here you've got a "Cryp" tattoo right there on your face?
Mom was also a hot mess in pajama pants and slipper at 1:30 in the afternoon, but we won't even go there. They were ahead of me in the check out line and watching them made me really super excited to go get my taxes done. They had three separate grocery orders on the conveyor belt. Two were paid for with food stamps. That covered all their basics like bread, peanut butter, milk, cheese, eggs and formula. The third order, the one they were paying for, included the most important purchases. They had a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, five 12 packs of Mountain Dew and a boat load of hamburger meat. The total on this grocery order was expensive. Soda and cigarettes can really eat up a grocery budget. I was glad they had those food stamps for the other stuff, because it would have cost them an arm and a leg if they had to pay for all of it themselves!
I paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot, relieved to be out of there and that's where the plot thickened. The lovely family had loaded their groceries into the GMC Yukon and dad sat in the front seat, taking on his I-phone. Mom lit herself a cigarette inside the car, with all the windows closed so that the little kid in the carseat could get all the benefits of a cigarette while still lacking the dexterity to hold a cigarette for herself. Lovely. I drove home feeling so sad for that kid in the carseat with two complete idiots for parents. I thought to myself, what chance does that little girl have for success in the world when her example is dumb and dumber?
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
The Baker
Every now and again Dave mentions that he wants me to bake him some cookies. He feels sort of picked on that I don't bake specifically for him. With all the food allergies in this house, I bake my signature eggless pumpkin muffins on a regular basis and on holidays I'll whip up my delicious eggless sugar cookies. The theme here is eggless, as in the six year old dessert fanatic can eat them. I think it's rude enough baking delicious treats in front of Lyla that she can't have, but it crosses the line to make egg containing cookies in front of my cookie loving allergic kid. It's rude. Dave still wants me to do it, but I always say no and that's when he takes matters into his own hands.
Before I went to the grocery store on Sunday, Dave reminded me to buy him some fresh eggs because he was planning to do some baking before dinner. I rolled my eyes but I did remember to buy his ingredients at the store. When I got home I put the new eggs in the fridge and set the old ones on the counter by the trash can because Dave was taking out the trash.
Dave starts his baking extravaganza and twenty minutes in, there are a million dirty dishes but he's doing his thing. He then opens the fridge and yells something like, "Damn it woman! Are these eggs in the fridge the new ones or the expired ones?" I mumbled a smart ass comment like, "Read the freaking date on the side genius!", and then proceeded to tell him that of course the fresh eggs are in the fridge because that's where they belong. Dave then blew a gasket because he had used the expired eggs in his cookie recipe. He was very dramatic about dumping his dough in the sink along with the "contaminated" bowl. He was really upset about this set back, but he decided to start over. This is where I get my mind blown. He now needs to use all new bowls, spoons, measuring cups and measuring spoons. He is now doubling the absurd amount of dirty dishes required for man baking. I only complain about this because Dave isn't entirely sure how to start our dishwasher. We've only lived here for three years and he hasn't learned how this new one works. I'm sure by next year he'll have gotten the hang of it. It is a two button process that the four year old has mastered but it can be really complex.
If I watched him bake in slow motion, I still wouldn't be able to figure out why he makes such a huge mess. It's like he can't possibly be expected to measure flour in the same measuring cup that he used for sugar. That would be gross! He also seemed alarmed that our flour is unbleached. He was hoping I had a bag of bleached flour hidden away in case of emergencies. I don't understand this dude or his methods. The good news is that the cookies turned out really good. The bad news (for my belly) is that the cookies turned out really good. I'm going to ask Dave to put them somewhere up high and out of my reach. This is a major plus side of being short. If I have to climb up onto the counter to reach the sweets, I'll usually just stay away from them. Out of sight, out of mind.
Before I went to the grocery store on Sunday, Dave reminded me to buy him some fresh eggs because he was planning to do some baking before dinner. I rolled my eyes but I did remember to buy his ingredients at the store. When I got home I put the new eggs in the fridge and set the old ones on the counter by the trash can because Dave was taking out the trash.
Dave starts his baking extravaganza and twenty minutes in, there are a million dirty dishes but he's doing his thing. He then opens the fridge and yells something like, "Damn it woman! Are these eggs in the fridge the new ones or the expired ones?" I mumbled a smart ass comment like, "Read the freaking date on the side genius!", and then proceeded to tell him that of course the fresh eggs are in the fridge because that's where they belong. Dave then blew a gasket because he had used the expired eggs in his cookie recipe. He was very dramatic about dumping his dough in the sink along with the "contaminated" bowl. He was really upset about this set back, but he decided to start over. This is where I get my mind blown. He now needs to use all new bowls, spoons, measuring cups and measuring spoons. He is now doubling the absurd amount of dirty dishes required for man baking. I only complain about this because Dave isn't entirely sure how to start our dishwasher. We've only lived here for three years and he hasn't learned how this new one works. I'm sure by next year he'll have gotten the hang of it. It is a two button process that the four year old has mastered but it can be really complex.
If I watched him bake in slow motion, I still wouldn't be able to figure out why he makes such a huge mess. It's like he can't possibly be expected to measure flour in the same measuring cup that he used for sugar. That would be gross! He also seemed alarmed that our flour is unbleached. He was hoping I had a bag of bleached flour hidden away in case of emergencies. I don't understand this dude or his methods. The good news is that the cookies turned out really good. The bad news (for my belly) is that the cookies turned out really good. I'm going to ask Dave to put them somewhere up high and out of my reach. This is a major plus side of being short. If I have to climb up onto the counter to reach the sweets, I'll usually just stay away from them. Out of sight, out of mind.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Sicky, Sick, Sick
I try my best not to use the F-bomb, but it was totally called for in this situation (and in the kind of traffic where it's not moving for no reason what so ever). Everyone on the planet would agree.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Magical Parenting Advice
This morning was a typical hectic, fast paced, weekday morning at my house. The only thing a little bit different was that Dave was here. He normally leaves for work before the kids eat. I made the coffee, got Lyla's hashbrowns going and I poured two cups of soy milk for the girls. Lyla is a big shot four year old now, so I gave her an open cup, a.k.a. a big girl cup, in place of cup that has a lid. She doesn't always drink her milk, but I like to think she enjoys being treated like a big kid anyway.
Lyla played with Legos at the table instead of drinking her milk. Typical really. She then knocked the cup over with her elbow and it spilled all over the table, onto her chair and onto the rug under the table. Dave looked over, grumbled a few expletives (we all do it) and wiped up part of it with a towel. He then gave me the blame look because I gave her the open cup, therefore inviting this mess. I shot back with my super irritated look, which I should get a patent on because it really is that good. I got a wet wash cloth and tried to wipe up the rest. Spilled milk sucks, but seriously we have a spill of some sort everyday and I manage to clean it up and move on. Dave is not nearly as used to it as I am. He spends his days with adults who apparently don't play with toys at the table. Lucky him!
Dave then looks over at Lyla and spouts off some of the best parental guidance I've ever heard. It was truly amazing and I knew right away that it was my responsibility to share it with the world. Pay attention as I deliver this advice word for word. He said, "Lyla, don't spill your milk anymore. Okay?" She nodded her head in agreement, letting him know that she won't spill milk anymore.
Problem solved, just like that! It was so simple. I honestly wondered why I'd never thought to tell her that in the first place. Imagine the messes that could have been avoided! "Hey tiny baby, stop doing those explosive blow out poops in your diaper. You know, the ones that shoot yellow crap all the way up your back and stain your cutest clothes. Go ahead and stop doing those, okay?" or "Hey kid, don't touch anything at school that might be covered in germs and don't get sick anyomore. Okay?" I'm excited to think of other ways I could bend this advice to fit other situations. No need to thank me, you are already so welcome.
Lyla played with Legos at the table instead of drinking her milk. Typical really. She then knocked the cup over with her elbow and it spilled all over the table, onto her chair and onto the rug under the table. Dave looked over, grumbled a few expletives (we all do it) and wiped up part of it with a towel. He then gave me the blame look because I gave her the open cup, therefore inviting this mess. I shot back with my super irritated look, which I should get a patent on because it really is that good. I got a wet wash cloth and tried to wipe up the rest. Spilled milk sucks, but seriously we have a spill of some sort everyday and I manage to clean it up and move on. Dave is not nearly as used to it as I am. He spends his days with adults who apparently don't play with toys at the table. Lucky him!
Dave then looks over at Lyla and spouts off some of the best parental guidance I've ever heard. It was truly amazing and I knew right away that it was my responsibility to share it with the world. Pay attention as I deliver this advice word for word. He said, "Lyla, don't spill your milk anymore. Okay?" She nodded her head in agreement, letting him know that she won't spill milk anymore.
Problem solved, just like that! It was so simple. I honestly wondered why I'd never thought to tell her that in the first place. Imagine the messes that could have been avoided! "Hey tiny baby, stop doing those explosive blow out poops in your diaper. You know, the ones that shoot yellow crap all the way up your back and stain your cutest clothes. Go ahead and stop doing those, okay?" or "Hey kid, don't touch anything at school that might be covered in germs and don't get sick anyomore. Okay?" I'm excited to think of other ways I could bend this advice to fit other situations. No need to thank me, you are already so welcome.
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