You are currently browsing the monthly archive for August 2007.

As an FYI, should you ever google ‘tingling hand’ and click on a site for Carpal Tunnel, feel comfortable that you can get treatment Jersey-style with this creepy character that will follow the cursor around with her head after she stops speaking.

Seriously, this is out there.

I have a bunch of things on my brain and none of them are correlated. Proper introduction, no?

1. Jack is doing wonderfully with both types of pottying lately. Some people think it’s totally lame for bored moms to blog about things like that, when they should be discussing presidential platforms and the Gaza strip. To them I say SUCKIT. Jack is 4 and a half and this is *huge* in our world.

2. My right arm has been sort of tingly and sore since last night. I’m not going to entertain the thought of a stroke so I think I’ll have Jon massage it to see if it’s a pinched nerve.

3. We have a couple weddings coming up, and I had thought I would wear a pretty little shirt I got from my beloved (and incredibly consumeristic) White House/Black Market. It looks similarly enough to this, though without the windblown model. And I don’t hold my manicured hands so casually. Anyway, when I bought it a few years ago it was sort of roomy, and has since become too big to wear (yay!.. wait… booo!) so I had the INGENIOUS idea of washing it, thinking it would shrink. And it did. Except I’m such a freaking blockhead I didn’t think about the fact that it shrunk shorter, too. So now it’s quite snug across, but also shows a fantastic amount of slightly streched-marked and tatooed tummy. Mmmmm sexy. So maybe instead I should beaugard Lo’s pink shirt that has ‘I (heart) NY’ rhinestoned on the front and wear that. Because I’m that damn classy..

4. K-State vs Auburn, tomorrow night at 7something, ESPN. Be there and see how Casey and I manage to continue to be friends. I told him I wouldn’t get into pre-game smack because I think it’s possible we’ll lose. But if we win? Woo hoo all sportsmanship is outta here! 😉

Have a good weekend, everyone.

Yeah, yesterday I had full intentions of coming back with a part two, but somehow totally forgot what I had planned on posting.

But I was saved by Leona Helmsley. Read here.

Have you heard the latest about the dimwitted* South Carolina Miss Teen USA contestant and her response to the education question? Yowza, poor girl. And I don’t feel like embedding another Youtube player so just go here to see the clip. The best part, in my humble opinion, is how hard A.C. Slater had to try and keep his cool when taking the mike back. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.

More later.

**Apparently she said she didn’t fully hear the question and flubbed. Obviously. And her principal made a statement that she wasn’t, in fact, stupid. So I’ll retract the dimwitted assumption. 😉

I went to the library for the first time in forever on Saturday so I could retrieve my resume from the stupid diskette it was last saved on five years ago. Jon and I had decided that I would try and find a part-time job from home so we could cushion our savings before we (really, truly) move next year. And conveniently, one of the easiest fields in which to telecommute is in editing/technical writing/proofreading etc. All of which my resume is filled with. Unfortunately, the thought of doing any of those things gives me the shakes.

I’ve joked about this before, but I am a total and complete fraud. I literally have no idea how I managed to skate through undetected all those years. I used to have nightmares (not unlike Princess Buttercup with the booing old woman) about my bosses barrelling around the corner to my cube with their fingers pointed, screaming “We figured you out! You don’t know ANYTHING about FrameMaker! What’s a gerund? How do you tabulate in Word? Make me a spreadsheet!” My stomach clenches just thinking about it.

It’s probable you’re wondering why I got into the field if I don’t like it. Well, I struggled for lots o’ reasons in college, some my own issues and many that weren’t. I was probably too young and poor to attempt anything so costly at the time, but c’est la vie. And I hemmed and hawed my way through, never really knowing what I wanted to do, and finally ended up in English Lit because I love to read and most of my electives were already within the major. And in fairness to our school and all those out there who are English majors: I didn’t and don’t think it’s just an easy out. I know there’s a bias against liberal arts, but personally I think that’s crap, since I know a lot of engineers who are just number crunchers but not thinkers, yet they get lauded for building things that work. Bah.

Anyway, I picked this major, did a mediocre job, and got an internship with a company at which my friend worked as a tech writer. I knew I didn’t want to teach, and my fleeting thought about continuing on past undergrad for etymology was squashed when my guidance counselor patted my hand and told me not everyone was meant for grad school. Wench. What she should have said was that if I wanted in I’d have to get off my ass and try, but I digress.

So then I started writing for the campus paper (because Jon was the Sports editor) and interning as another tech writer (at my mother’s company), all while careening towards the end with no idea what in the hell I would do. But tech writing can pay pretty well, honestly, so I gradumucated and got a job. I hated it, quit, and got a different contract job. Then I had Jack and never looked back. And really, it began and continued because of connections. People put their names on the line for me, and I hate thinking that I did substandard work. Or maybe everyone does somewhat substandard work, but I didn’t know that b/c I was too busy scraping by.

The only thing I’ve ever enjoyed is writing. I didn’t do a poor job when writing articles for the Collegian, but I could never be an unbiased journalist. I would love to write a column somewhere, unfortunately however, columnists are like sports writers: they are there until they die. Unless they are Steve Rushin, in which case they leave because they are too good for Sports Illustrated – the same magazine that will employ that piece of crap Rick Reilly – and then are never heard from again, which makes the rest of us still forced to read that crappy Reilly sad. (Oh, that was wayyy digressive, and probably a run-on. I’m sorry.)

And I’m not really looking for suggestions on what job I can find or what I should do based on my passions, I’m just admitting my fear about getting back into the job market. I think in the future my resume will be geared for a WHOLE different field, and this won’t be an issue. But I feel so insecure thinking about trying to pose as a tech writer, when I’d rather be a lactation consultant or an anti-vaccination lobbyist. Something that interests me and I know I’d be good at.

Wish me luck. And let me know if you know anyone who wants to pay me to talk about homebirth or autism. 😉

I unabashedly follow whatever Misty does, as she is one of my bastions of cool. So accordingly, I saw her (what are these called again?) and had to have one.

And I was originally dressed in a glamorous sequined gown, dancing in a grand ballroom, but let’s be realistic here: the vast majority of the time I’ll be wearing something close to this. And you should thank me, because you were thisclose to seeing me do the Pop, Drop and Lock – over and over again.

Heh heh.

So let’s flash way back to college when I’m home on break, happily eating some Fruit Loops, and suddenly I feel immense pain in my lower molar. I get an emergency visit to some random dentist my parents see and end up needing a crown because the stupid metal filling I got as a child has totally eroded to the nerve. Now, I have had all types of ortho and dental work done; dentists don’t scare me. But this guy was so bad, and jammed that stupid ill-fitting crown onto my raw nerve so many times, that I finally grabbed his wrist (bawling, of course) and yanked his hand out of my mouth to make it stop. Top 5 most painful experience ever. EVER.

Now flashback to earlier this summer. Remember when I was stoked to go to this coolio holistic dentist and get my amalgams out? Well, guess what. She retired. Three days after my initial visit.

And now we’re at today. I go to a new guy recommended by the coolio dentist, and after getting charged again for an exam (after all, insurance just paid for an exam two months ago) he tells me I have to get so much work done that the cost after insurance is going to be $3,500. And payment is due in full at time of service.

I was near bawling on the way home because it’s going to cost so much. But I was also mad, because in all truthfulness these problems stem from the original MERCURY FREAKING FILLINGS put into my gourd 20 years ago. I haven’t had a cavity in forever but between erosion, that ill-fitting crown and the demineralization from nursing, I’m currently screwed. And I called my mom, b/c I know she’s had extensive dental work done and is usually very good about being the rational to my irrational, and she was really surprised at the cost. She thought that seem excessive for the work suggested, (which, btw, is *not* what coolio dentist said) and then had me repeat the new dentist’s name. She mumbled something about where the guy used to have his office and I almost slammed into the van in front of me when I realized something.

(Have you figured out where I’m going with this yet?)

New dentist-guy is old painful-dentist guy from college! AUAUGH! DAMNIT!

Once Mom realized who we were talking about, she updated me on stories why the guy’s horrible and told me to run – not walk – away from him, which is really not that hard to do, considering he’s been my mortal enemy for a decade or so and is apparently ridiculously overpriced. But that means that I’ll have to find another dentist that will hopefully respect the seriousness of taking out the amalgams properly (and fix the other two teeth), all while not charging eight billion dollars.

So I think now that I have TWO sets of X-rays and TWO sets of notes from TWO dentists I may go see my roommate from college and see if he’ll give me a professional suggestion based on the info and not because he has to charge me for a freaking exam. And maybe I can talk him into humoring me and using the protocol I want to take out the fillings, and everyone will be happy. And really, I don’t think I’m asking too much.

I’ll say it again: MERCURY BAD.


So surely you’ve seen the meme game where you list obscure things about yourself. I totally dug them when they were running around myspace, b/c how fun is it to talk about yourself, er, well, you know. However, I’m seriously running out of things to say, especially since I talk so much there’s nothing you guys don’t probably know about me. But I like Alissa, so I’ll do it. I *refuse* to create a meme tag, though.


1. I have no waist (or hips), and pants are forever falling off me. Most of my clothing will slide right down my bum if I run long enough. I am literally a box.

2. To steal Alissa’s thought: I too love eating out of all kinds. I associate it not only with the luxury of frivolous money, but also a release from my dreaded kitchen. I’m a snob about organic food until you offer me some Taco Johns. YUM.

3. Sometimes I entertain the thought of moving away with my family so I can start over. Like I could shake off the old me and start new. I think it’s a valid idea for some people, but for me it would just be running, and that’s not going to solve anything, so luckily I’m (somewhat) wise enough to realize that.

4. You know the blackness behind your eyelids when you close them? When I can’t sleep at night I take the covers off for a bit to get chilly, then re-cover myself and try and visualize going down a slide tunnel (think tube slides on the playground) or a galaxy wormhole with that blackness. If I concentrate long enough to actually visualize sliding down the tunnel, I will be out immediately.

5. I have such a stupid sweet tooth I will eat things I don’t really like just because it has something sugary on it. Like cheesecake. It actually skeeves me out, but put some chocolate and toffee bits on it? By all means gimme some! Blech.

6. I love the smell of tequila. I’m at least grown up enough that I can’t just drink it (alone) for fun, but I still love the smell. I know most of you are retching, and I agree. I’m like that will all other alcohols. But something about tequila, I dunno.

7. I talk a big tomboy talk, but really I’m a kinda-poser. My friend Cyndi is a fo’real football fan, but I learn just enough to sound smart (I have to. My husband was a sports writer. Our first fight was why I didn’t understand the difference b/w a baseball hit and run. Jerk.). But we’ve been watching HBO’s Hard Knocks about the Chiefs*, and I’m actually really stoked about this season. I tell you, add some music to make it montage-y, have Paul Rudd narrate and I’ll love anything. Yum.

8. I have an old, curmudgeonly cat named Lucky. He’s so obnoxious (….how obnoxious is he?!) that in college we had a sun-tea pitcher on the TV by the front door and it was labeled the ‘Lucky De-Claw and Neuter Trust Fund’. I raised like, $80 with that thing, seriously. But now that we have the little guy, I have taken serious karma-pleasure in seeing Lucky get SCHOOLED by Oscar. It’s great. He’s not getting hurt or anything, but it’s still great to see him get attacked as he walks around a corner. What goes around comes around, buddy.

And yeah, I know that last one isn’t about me at all, but really, I stretched to do this list anyway. As far as who to tag? Uh.. I don’t know, lots of you don’t have blogs. Maybe Mads or Casey. Lauren, Lawson, Misty or Tracy. Sugar! I tag Sara.

Get listin’ everyone. Ciao.


*But I know enough to trash talk, and I’m not kidding Laws you better hope your boy Brodie Croyle is worth his rep or I’m going to give you crap the entire season. I mean it.

Once a month or so I email a group of technogeeks.. uh, I mean my friends, for computer help. I’m in a standoff most of the time with this POS I’m writing on currently, and yearn for the day I can Office Space the junk.

And since I don’t have anything much else interesting to say today, that’s my segue/excuse to post a random Youtube Tuesday clip from my beloved Eddie Izzard. Enjoy.

Even as a youngin’ I liked nice guys. I saw the link to this interview with Fred Savage over on MDC. Here’s the best part:

4. Oldest thing in your fridge or freezer? Breast milk. We’ve tried, particularly with the move, to clean out our freezer as much as possible because in the old house, it would get cluttered with so much crap. But the one thing we haven’t been able to throw away is the breast milk — and we should, because it’s over 6 months old. You’re not supposed to keep it frozen for more than that. … But I just don’t have the heart to because my wife worked so hard, she pumped every night — it was really hard on her to make this. So we probably have some breast milk from February.

Coincidence that his wife’s name is Jennifer? I think not. 😉


Moving on, so this weekend is over and THANKFREAKINGGOD. I’d lie if I said that it was a good one – Jon was out of town for 4 days and it was rough. But I did get to see my post-adolescent boyfriend in my favorite movie (hence the song choice for the week. 15 forever-Jen points if you know what I’m referencing). Honestly, it was good for me to have so much time to think (because I never do enough of that *snort*). I’ve realized that despite my uh, sometimes heightened emotions I can usually come back down to reality if given enough time to digest and process, y’know? And that’s hard when you’re with someone all the time. I don’t get/make/have a lot of time to myself, and it’s always been something I need when we argue – space and time. But the kids kind of complicate that, because we have to be very aware of what we discuss in front of them, and even if I left for 15 minutes to chill and drive around, it’s stressful to them. In fact Jack asked Jon last night if he had ‘run away from mommy’. We don’t know if it was literal (because we had played chase before bed) or because Jon had been out of town. But poor Jon’s heart made an audible kee-rack sound of breaking at the thought. His job is so awesome in so many ways, but the traveling is the hardest on Jack, hands-down. Oh well, we adjust and roll.

Life is good. Thanks for all the birthday greetings here and elsewhere, friends. I heart you all.

Wanna hear how Jon and I got engaged? A very good friend of mine drowned in college while saving the life of someone else. It was on Jon’s birthday, 8 years ago. A few months later we were all at the bars when a song came on that reminded me of him. I mentioned it to a mutual friend who then told me that it didn’t remind him of Ryan, and that in fact he was over Ryan’s death (I’m sure in retrospect that had to have been a remote stage of grief). Needless to say, the callousness of the statement floored me. When Jon and I were walking back to my house later, I couldn’t help but cry at the idea that if I died right then, people could (would) be over it in a matter of months. I had walked a few feet before I realized Jon wasn’t next to me. I looked around and saw him kneeling in a gravel alleyway. He told me he loved me and would never get over me if I died. He then asked me to marry him. Yeah, we were drunk, and it was cheesy, but it was more sincere than any manipulated fancy-dinner scene, and more apropos to our relationship. It’s one of the coolest proposals I’ve ever heard, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And I tell this not only as an example of what a wonderful husband I have, but also to illustrate that my deepest insecurity is this gaping hole of worthlessness I feel sometimes. If I had to make a psychologically armchaired guess, it probably was seeded growing up as a lonely only-child to a single mother (re: absentee father). It grew when my parents got back together in high school, having a familial do-over with my infant sister that I just didn’t really fit into anywhere. And it most definitely bloomed in college when the (unhealthy) relationship I had put my all into bottomed out. I honestly hate this about myself, but in however many years of recognizing it it’s still there, jumping out every once in a while. And I don’t know what there is to do about it. It’s odd to me that as a girl who is not skinny nor gorgeous, I’ve really had no discernible issues with self image. Only self worth. I kind of wish it were the other way around; lipo and a nose job seem so much easier as a fix.

Even now the only reason it’s come to the front of my mind is because tomorrow is my birthday. The big three-oh to be exact. And everyone keeps asking me how I feel about that. Well, the number means diddly to me, but what’s bothering me is that Jon has to be out-of-town for work. On my birthday. On a Friday. Really, this could sum up to be my worst nightmare: Alone on a Friday night on my birthday. And I’m truly not saying all this in an effort to elicit birthday greetings (though I’d obviously be lying if I said I didn’t care), but I think maybe to name this before it grows into something bigger than it is already. I know it’s not that big of a deal, I know this. I know it’s just a weekday and calendar date. And every year leading up to my birthday I don’t give any thought to it, really. In fact, I lose track of where we are in time anyway most days (as obvious by my post yesterday).

But truthfully and secretly, I do care. A few years ago my dad forgot to call me on my birthday and I was surprisingly crushed. And it’s all hypocritical, seeing how I can remember specifically maybe a handful of people’s birthdays. Everyone else I can narrow it down to the week of. And even then I may not remember in time to get it right. I hate getting birthday gifts because then I feel obligated to give them, and I’m just way, way too lazy and selfish to possibly do that for everyone I know.

But I know that I think of everyone in my life somewhere near their birthday, and try to at least email them sometime in their month. And my birthday always looms in front of me like this taunting test of whether anyone cares. And that’s so pathetic! It really is! I hate admitting it, it feels so vulnerable and weak. But, like I said, I hate giving power to this also, so I’m hoping if I call it out it can’t sneak up and make me feel like crap. I know I’m worthy (blech, even writing the word makes my skin crawl it’s so.. needy) and even if I don’t have a jam-packed day it doesn’t mean I’m not loved.

So. This year I’m gonna take control of this and stop being a wienie. This is a stupid test that’s bound to fail, and each year it’s getting oddly more important. But I don’t like it, so I’m determined to muscle through it and kick it to the curb. Maybe I should turn off the phone and unplug the computer so I can’t have anything to measure.

Yeah right. That’s not going to happen. But it will be fine, I’ll see. 😉

Bummer. Apparently Bear Grylls (aka hottie host of Man vs Wild on the Discovery Channel) is a fake. Or is faking some of the footage at least. Too bad, it’s a cool show.

Watch here.

Thanks to Maddy for the video. (And for breaking my heart. *sigh*)

*Good to know, since that means school starts tomorrow instead of in two days. Man I’m such a dummy sometimes.. Ciao everyone, how are you? I have another headache, so I think this will probably be more ramble than organized. But the kids are watching a video, so I wanted to get a quick note in.

Jack starts school on Thursday and I will be having a party to celebrate. I kid – sort of. Someday I’d like to homeschool, but until then I will happily send him to school – he loves it and needs the constant stimulation that I just don’t have the energy to provide.

Last spring the school nurse told me he had slightly failed his eye exam and that I should take him to see a specialist to get tested. We did that yesterday and my sweet, sweet boy handled it like a champ. They had to put dilation drops in his eyes and we had half an hour to kill before they could test him, so we went downstairs to the cafe to get ice cream. His eyes are really dark anyway, but it was honestly a bit creepy that even dilated you couldn’t see where his pupils and eye color met. He did great though, and hollered a hearty ‘goodbye anyone! thanks for coming to the eye doctor!’ when we left. We were met with a waiting roomful of laughs. 🙂 (Oh – he was fine. Very slightly near-sighted but not enough to really need glasses – just like me.)

Ok, so one of my biggest pet peeves is this annual phone call I get from the Kansas State Troopers Association. A few years ago I got suckered into ‘donating’ and when I got the thing in the mail, they had added a surcharge. I was so incensed that they surcharged my freaking donation I refused to donate again. That, and I realized what a fool I’d been to think the guy calling was actually a volunteer. Nope. They have PAID ACTORS who play country music in the background and have a twang when they call you. ‘Howdy mam, this is Tommy from the KSTA. Now don’t worry, I’m not tryin’ to get you in trouble for that speedin’ you did last week (hearty laugh), nothin’ like that..’. The whole thing is offensive and annoying as hell. Plus I’m just irritated I didn’t catch it the first time. So yesterday when they called I politely went along until the time came to tell him now was not a good time to donate. (I’m not much of a hanger-upper; I’ve had to do that job before and it sucks.) And what kills me is that his whole speech ends by asking which level am I ready to donate at – the 25, 35 or $45. They just manipulate people so much! And I’m sure there are people who think those are the only choices! So I politely decline and he tries to guilt me into it by saying that my donation will buy a reflective jacket for a Trooper, and don’t I want to save lives? It took a whole lot of willpower not to ask this asshat actor if he was donating his paycheck back to the cause. Whatever. Next time I’ll send him over to the sweet Judy Fisher at the Missouri Council for the Blind who calls me unfailingly once a month to see if I have any household donations. This woman calls from her own home and is so sweet that I give stuff I wouldn’t *normally* give away just to support her.

But, I need to go, so I thought I’d end with a picture of my beautiful little monkey: Princess Buckethead. Happy Tuesday Wednesday~


So I saw this article today about a hotel opening up in space. Really. Apparently in 2012 people can spend $4 mil to spend three days in space, watching 15 sunrises and floating in a room with water bubbles to shower. And I googled it and found the homepage Galactic Suite which has, in my opinion, an odd image of an in-utero fetus (for comparison to weightlessness) and a yoga-positioned woman staring at an image of Earth. The picture of the rocket with the brand on the side (like you’d see on a commercial plane) cracks me up, though.

Actually, considering the billions of dollars being spent on this, I’m kind of surprised the website is as mediocre as it is. The font’s cheesy (I know, it’s supposed to be alien-ish), the timing is way too fast and the song is distracting. I guess I just have high expectations for a website about VACATIONING IN SPACE.

They should work on that and I’ll save up my money. In the meantime Misty, you should send a resume b/c you would totally rock that site. And you and Sammy do have a goal to go worldwide every year, right? Well they’re already taking reservations. 😉

Jack drew a picture! A recognizable picture of a person with a face and body and everything!

This is spectacular – it means he not only can imagine the ideas to draw, but can also get the fine motor ability in his hand to cooperate enough to do it!

((happy sigh))



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