My kind of Christmas celebration
Do you think these people will adopt me?
Do you think these people will adopt me?
I'm sure you all have been dying to know what was in the Coach boxes on Christmas morning. Well, I was a little surprised by what Big Daddy picked out. I was expecting, by the size of the boxes, a wallet and a bag.
I opened the small box first. It wasn't a wallet at all. No, it was an adorable black quilted silk wristlet with a fur collar.
I really like it a lot, although I'm not sure how often I could use it, given that I don't really do galas anymore in my new job. Or cocktail parties. Or clubs.
So then I opened the larger box. Imagine my surprise to find a larger hand-bag version of the same purse.
(Sorry for the weird coloring. My camera phone has started doing that if I take one photo too soon after another. Don't know why.)
Now I just really don't know about this one. Because it's not really sturdy enough for every day use - I'm pretty hard on my bags, actually. It is cute, though.
So then Big Daddy says to me, "You can exchange them if you want. If you return them both, you can get any bag in their line."
Which leads me to my dilemma. I would like a nice new black leather Coach bag. Something like, this, say. But I'd also like to keep the wristlet (as impractical as it may be).
Then this morning, Big Daddy suggested (a little buyer's remorse for how much money he spent, I imagine) that I could simply return the bags and order something online. Something not available here in town. Something on sale. Like this, say. Which isn't on sale, but is very cute and is also probably about half of what he spent at Coach.
So I'm going to do a little online window shopping and see what I find out there. More posts with lots of links to come, I'm sure.
Remember this guy?
Last year, he missed two free throws with no time left on the clock. Just one of them would have put the game into overtime. Two of them would have given the Tigers a conference championship and an automatic bid to the NCAA tournament. But the freshman missed them, and the team went to the NIT. Again.
The city really stuck with him though. They supported him whole-heartedly when he returned at point guard this year. No one said, "Oh yeah...that's that dumb ass who missed the free throws."
And just look at him now.
Hampered by a deep thigh bruise for over a month, he scored 22 points and 10 assists, including an AMAZING move at the buzzer with less than two minutes left in the game, where he exploded right, spun back left and floated the ball over the outstretched arm of Gonzaga's imposing big man.
It fell through the rim.
*The [sold-out] crowd goes wild!*
We hadn't been to a Tigers basketball game since we had season tickets in the Pyramid. Back then, we sat on the fourth row directly across from the Tiger bench. My Kid would slap hands with the players when they came out and sometimes they would throw him their headbands after the game.
Now they're playing in the FedEx Forum, and we let our tickets lapse in opposition of the crazy extortion fees the university charges for season tickets. But when the #4 team in the nation (yours) plays the #8 team in the nation (Gonzaga) - who also happens to have the #1 player in the nation Idon'tcarewhatanyonesaysJJReddick - you buy tickets to the game and you go. Even if you have to sit in the nosebleed section.
I am not kidding. We were closer to those walkways under the ceiling than we were the actual basketball court.
On the plus side, it's much easier to recognize a zone defense when you're looking down on the floor rather than sitting directly on it.
It was the most amazing fucking game I've ever seen. As in "...Seeing your team shut down Adam Morrison...PRICELESS."
Today, we bask.
Can someone with a business degree please explain this to me?
I heard a report on NPR this morning about holiday sales at the major retailers, and they made the comment that sales of gift cards aren't reported when the card is sold but when it's cashed in.
I know I have a degree in communications and I never took a business class in my life, but this makes no sense to me. The store gets the money when the card is sold, so even if the receiver loses the card or forgets about it or for some other reason never uses it, the store still got the money, but it never is reported???
How is this legal? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Two reasons, really.
First, I got very drunk at the office Christmas party. Actually, several of us did, so I wasn't alone. Remember - the lunch at the Mexican place with beer and wine? Well, of course the party crowd ordered margaritas. And when everyone else left to go back to the office, our car of six wanted to stay and finish our drinks. And....of course....we ordered a few MORE. So lots of tequila was consumed.
We got back to the office (finally) and pretty much everyone took off. I'm not sure why Amy & I stayed till the end. What WERE we thinking? Amy had been smart - she had her husband drive her to the office that morning so that he could pick her up following the imbibing of margaritas and not leave her car. He was kind enough to drive me as well. We stopped by the Bistro for a few more drinks - NOT THAT WE NEEDED THEM - and I was at home and sound asleep by 7:30 p.m. I missed my nail appointment completely.
I was a little anxious about returning to the office this morning since the last afternoon here is a bit of a blur. Amy assured me that I was fine during the two hours or so that we spent back at the office and it wasn't until later at the Bistro that I really started to become overly intoxicated.
I did wake up about 3:30 that morning; I believe the noise coming from downstairs is what woke me. I wondered what the hell My Kid was doing awake at 3:30 a.m. The next morning, I was up before anyone else. I found this on the floor:
OK, it's a lousy photo, but you get the idea. Their pre-ordered XBox 360 finally came in. And they stayed up all night playing it. Not just Thursday, but every night since then, as well.
I asked Big Daddy why he didn't save it until Christmas for the Kid and he said that they'd waited long enough. As you can see, he was every bit as anxious to get his hands on it as the son was.
Which leads me to my other reason for the moral hangover. Once Christmas was upon us, I started to regret my efforts to ignore the holiday. It was a bit of a letdown to spend Christmas Eve without so much as a stocking hanging from the mantle. I won't even go into opening presents AROUND THE DINING ROOM TABLE on Christmas morning.
I've always battled some depression around the holidays. I think I thought that I wouldn't feel that way this year if I just ignored the holiday completely (and drank enough). But my efforts were fruitless. Christmas came anyway and I was equally saddened, only this time by my insistence to deny it.
It's like a Lifetime Move starring Valerie Bertinelli where she discovers the true meaning of Christmas afterall! The End!
I tried to make up for it yesterday by going to the grocery and buying lots of stuff to make cookies. My Kid has always enjoyed baking with me and I'm relieved to report that his pre-teen annoyance with me hasn't been able to destroy that (yet). We made sugar cookies frosted with chocolate, peanut butter cookies with kisses and those pretzel things recommended by Filegirl.
Big Daddy kept saying, "What are you cooking all this for? I hope you're going to take some of it to work!" But I figure the kids on the cove will all be home this week, so I'm sure it will be gone in no time. While we cooked, the whole famn damily watched the Tigers win the Motor City Bowl together - something we hadn't done in a while, what with all the various TVs in the house.
Courtesy of Grown*Up Girlie
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Mmmm...hot chocolate and cheese toast - my favorite comfort foods. Although I did have some real, homemade egg nog for the first time the other night, and it was mighty tasty.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them around the tree?
He just sets them out.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No. But I used to know I guy a long time ago who made a lot of money at the holidays by going out in the woods and shooting it out of trees and selling it.
5. When do you put your decorations up?
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Turkey & stuffing & cranberry
7. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
Don't really remember. I just remember that the year I found out I got to "be Santa" with my parents and my older sister and fill my brother's stocking. I guess I was maybe 8? Or 10?
8. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
We never did until we moved to the south when I was 11. Then my parents allowed us one gift on Xmas Eve and they got to pick it. Of course it was always pajamas so we didn't look like ragamuffins in the Xmas morning home movies.
9. What kind of cookies does Santa get set out for him?
Sugar, I think. Bonus points if they're frosted.
10. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Love it. Dread the ice and frozen rain that we get here in the midsouth, though.
11. Can you ice skate?
12. Do you remember your favorite gift?
Mickey Mouse wristwatch on a red, plastic strap.
13. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
paid time off
14. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
Pie. Practically any kind, but I'm particularly partial to fruit.
15. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
I do love getting Xmas cards with pictures of people's kids. Although I'm surprised I'm still on anyone's list since I never send one myself.
16. What tops your tree?
I say again, what tree?
17. Which do you prefer Giving or Receiving?
18. What is your favorite Christmas Carol?
"For Unto Us a Child is Born" from Handel's Messiah. Man, those religious people sure can write some good music.
19. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?
Yuck. Peppermint is for freshening breath. It's not candy.
20. What is your favorite holiday?
You thought I was kidding about that Christmas Bitch thing, huh?
First, so as to not give the impression that I am full of projects and improvements like Some Ambitious Bloggers, I want you to know that we have a policy at my house. And it is this: Never Do Anything For Yourself That You Can Pay Someone Else To Do.
So yay Ben. You did a nice job on the downstairs bathroom, dude.
OK, next. I have to give you a mental picture of the BEFORE.
The woman who owned this house before us had the entire thing decorated in burgundy and hunter green. Gawwwd...that is soooo Memphis. No offense, if you're house looks like that. I'm sure it's much lovelier than this. She asked in the contract if she could take her window treatments with her and I was all, "Take 'em! Get 'em outta here!!"
The house actually has really nice lines that play well for a very modern decor, which is how we did it.
The walls downstairs are a very, very pale taupe. The half-bath downstairs is about 6x6 square with a very tall ceiling. And she had it papered with 1-inch stripes alternating in....you got it - burgundy and hunter green. It was appalling.
We've been meaning to rip that shit down for about four years now. So when Ben called, trying to collect a little extra holiday cash and asking if we had any work for him, I was all, "RE-DO THE DOWNSTAIRS BATHROOM!!!"
The week that we re-did it, I had a lot of other things going on, so Big Daddy actually picked out everything. Thank the Intelligent Designer I married someone with impeccable taste. Really. He's amazing.
He picked a darker taupe for the walls. Then he bought these great white accessories, and a brushed-chrome mirror and light fixture. So nice. All of it goes very well with the modern decor of the main floor. Here's my crappy camera phone images.
Very minimalist. The pedestal sink was already there. We didn't change that.
These cool little 90-degree angle shelves Big Daddy picked out all by himself. Aren't they cool? They're on the wall over the toilet. I put candles on them.
It's kinda hard to take a picture of a light with a crappy little camera phone but I think you can see it well enough.
Talk about Modern: This brushed-chrome can in the corner holds the extra rolls of toilet paper. The actual t.p. holder is that white box. It's sitting right inside of there, if you can't see it. The darker taupe rug is my sole contribution. Because my feet were cold.
Well, that's not true. I bought these cheesy handtowels at Target, too. And that night light - but that's been there for ages. Soap dispenser? That was Big Daddy.
Additional shot of the little shelvy-things. The top candle has candy canes and pine embedded in it - My Kid gave it to me for Xmas last year. I bought the middle candle at a shopping party this year - it's scented "White Hot Cinnamon" and I got four more for My Kid's teachers' presents. The bottom one was a gift from my SIL from Thanksgiving - it's grapefruit-scented.
So that's it. If you're ever in the area and you need to pee, please feel free to drop by and check out my new bathroom first hand.
Note to Self:
Make sure in the future that you are plenty stocked up on tights prior to December 21, in order to avoid the insanely ridiculous traffic around the mall when you simply want to pick up something you need.
And thinking you could pop in to the book store cafe across the street for a quick salad for lunch first? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND??
Me (Xmas Bitch)
Oh my god, ya'll! Like, the Tigers? Are NUMBER FOUR in the nation! Like, of ALL the basketball teams!!! Can you believe it? I am SOOOOOO EXCITED! It's like, really cool because we are soooooo good, ya'll. WOOO! GO TIGERS!!
So like, I know I had on my list of things to do before I die to "See my Tigers win an NCAA basketball title" but I think I'm gonna change it ya'll! Ya know? Like, to "See my Tigers play in an NCAA Final Four." Because they are sooooo totally going to do that this year! And I can mark it off my list! YAY! How cool would that be? We'd, like, both accomplish something. WOOOOO!! GO TIGERS!!
(Translation: Hello, I'm an American)
An acquaintence of mine threw together a short-notice cocktail party last night so people could meet his foreign guest.
He is the Interior Minister of a former Soviet republic, and I'll call him Jacob.
You see, I don't want to give away too many secrets about the man. I wouldn't want former KGB agents coming after him. Or me.
The party started out like any other - lots of small talk and meeting the different people as everyone arrived. I got cornered early by the host's real estate agent, who introduced herself by saying, "Hi, I'm Jane Doe. I sold them this house." Now I realize when you're in a line of work such as that it's important to make contacts everywhere you go. But I also know what's appropriate for a social situation and you'd think, at her advanced age, she would as well. But apparently not, because I could not get away from her and her neighborhood name-dropping for ALMOST AN HOUR.
And that was just because the food was served.
As is typical of these parties, the men took their plates and congregated in the living room, while the women all sat around the table in the kitchen. I ate in there as well, but once I'd finished my dinner, I'd had enough conversation about everyone's twins (apparently, they all had them) and anyway, I had come there not to visit with a bunch of stay-at-home moms but to engage in conversation with a foreign dignitary. So I grabbed my wine glass, walked into the living room, and plopped myself down on a sofa between two men.
One guy, who'd been talking, stopped, then said, "I guess I'll finish the rest of this story later." Apparently he was telling an off-color story that he wasn't comfortable finishing in front of a woman, but I did not apologize or feel guilty. I simply turned to Jacob and asked, "So, how is it that you were able to come in possession of your KGB files anyway?"
And we talked for at least two hours about Putin and Bush and civil rights vs. security and the death penalty and oligarchs and theocracies and god I can't even remember what else. It was the most fascinating evening I've spent in ages.
I took a photo of him on my cell phone. I would post it here, but then I'd have to kill you.
Dear Intellegent Designer,
I'm very, very sad about this.
And also? The guy I used to work with who died Saturday? He was 29. TWENTY-FREAKING-NINE. And he left two very young children. Yeah, merry fucking christmas to them for the rest of their life, huh?
The Christmas Bitch
I mean, what more can they do to me that they haven't already done?
Late Friday afternoon I got a call from one of our vendors. I've worked with this company for years. They actually work with a lot of PR people around the city. He said that someone from another agency was considering a job at my old place of employment. I guess she knew that this vendor had done a lot of work there, so she called him asking his opinion of the place. As she described the job to him, he said, "That sounds like Kalisah's old job."
So he called me, and asked if I knew this girl (I do) and would I be willing to talk to her about the job? Give her some inside scoop. I said, "Sure. Tell her to call me."
After I got off the phone with him, I looked up the job on my old company's web site. Oh yeah, it's my job all right...PROMOTED TO THE DIRECTOR LEVEL.
I mentioned before that some of my old colleagues told me at my birthday party that my old boss has said numerous times recently, "Now, there's no secret that a big hole's been left in Kalisah's absence." I guess, after six months, they've decided they really CAN'T live without me and they're going to have to find someone to fill these beautiful and expensive shoes.
I just find it quite ironic that, while they never would promote ME to director level, the job they're advertising for is a director-level position. Fuckers.
So this evening, I go to yoga class, and guess who's in the class? The agency girl who's applied for the job. I'm telling ya, this is one small town I live in. So we talked a bit and she's going to call me tomorrow at the office. I said, "I can give you a quick overview in five minutes over the phone, or we can meet for lunch and I can give you all the details." We're having lunch Wednesday.
Now I just have to figure out what I'm going to tell her. I don't want to bad-mouth my old boss or anything, b/c she might take the job and they could end up best buddies. And what about the guy - the one who was always trashing me behind my back? What of that? I mean, his WIFE is now a SENIOR DIRECTOR in that department.
I know this girl's work though. She's very good. I'd love to see her come in and take a little control away from those morons up there who ran me off.
But there are TWO presents for me in COACH BOXES! Yay, Big Daddy!
I think I understand now why Kong didn't have a huge Wednesday night opening. Who the hell can go see a THREE-AND-A-HALF-HOUR MOVIE ON A WEEKNIGHT??
We went to a 6:40 show and didn't get out until 10 O'CLOCK.
An entire hour could easily be cut from the film. I thought it was a bit slow and completely self-indulgent. Like when Kong fought off three T-Rexes with one hand, while gently grasping Miss Ann Darrow in the other. That scene went on for about 20 minutes.
I do love me some Adrien Brody, though. Don't know what it is about him, but I do love that man.
So the movie's 3 1/2 hours long, but there's probably only an hour of dialogue. Naomi Watts didn't really have to learn any lines, she just had to be able to make her eyes tear up. Over. And over. And over. Again.
Course the boys loved it. I'm not saying you shouldn't see it. Just make sure you eat a big meal and take a long nap before you go, b/c you're gonna be in that theater for a long, long time.
Driving home from yoga class, when I should have been all calm and zen, I was instead yelling at the suck-ass drivers on the road. The ones who insist on driving five miles under the speed limit RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER so you can't pass. And then fuck up the timing so you hit every single light red. Gah. Then, as I drove across the I-240 overpass on Walnut Grove, this car came zooming up the exit ramp to merge into my lane. Used to be a yield sign there, but with all the construction there's now two big STOP signs. But this guy was flying down the exit and really didn't appear to be slowing at all. So I yelled at him (I yell at other drivers. It's a nice habit I learned from my daddy.), I yelled at him, "Stop, motherfucker!" and then I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror because it seemed that I may have just turned into Shaft.
Yesterday, a local TV news reporter called me wanting to do a story on one of my clients. My boss made me TURN IT DOWN for a really, really lame reason. I love a job where I bust my ass to get media coverage for clients, and when the media calls I have to say "no."
Dude, my new bathroom looks soooo unbelievably fabulous. Photos forthcoming. Unfortunately, I didn't think to take "before" pictures. I never do. But it was so appalling before, that looking at it would probably burn your retinas out anyway. So it's better this way.
I'm a little surprised that King Kong only did half the opening that LOTR did. I predict KK to be the hugest movie of the year. I'm even going to see it, although I'd much rather be watching SJP in her new role. I read an interview with her where she said that her costumes were so tight, she couldn't sit down in them. The crew built her a "leaning board" for between takes, but she said she was too embarrassed to use it.
My agency decided to give a big donation to a charity instead of having a fancy, limo-driven, champagne-swilling party for us. How...generous. Feh. I don't care if you call me Scrooge. Although I prefer "The Christmas Bitch." They are, however, taking us to a restaurant next week for a Xmas lunch - a taco and quesedilla bar with beer and wine. Now I ask you: WHO THE HELL DRINKS WINE WITH TACOS?? Where is the love? And the margaritas?
Lastly, something's all wonky with my computer today. Or with bloglines. Or with the internet. I don't know. I just know that when I try to open certain blogs (like, half of them), I get posts that are several weeks old. Refreshing doesn't help. Clearing out my history and my cookies doesn't help (it just made it so that I have to TYPE IN EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH. Great idea. I'm such a techie genius.) So....I don't know. I just know there's posts out there and I can't seem to get to them. And, erm...you may want to go back to last week's posts b/c I might have only just now made a comment there. That is all. Good night, and good luck.
PS - (Turns out that wasn't all) - And the other half of the blogs? The ones I can get on? Yeah, they all seem to have TAKEN OFF FOR THE HOLIDAYS. What's up with that? I didn't know we get a two-week blogging vacation every year. I need to renegotiate my contract.
And this, too: I think everyone should please try to use "I be festive" in a post today. Thanks.
I'm a bit of an insomniac. Not the kind that lays awake night after night after night. But the kind who doesn't ever sleep soundly. I have epic-long dreams that last all night long, and I wake up feeling not the least bit rested.
Last night my dream was a period piece. Seriously.
My twin sister and I lived with our widowed mother. She took in this woman who was to live with us, cook, clean, care for us. This woman had an older daughter who lived in the city. We didn't see the daughter as often, but my sister and I loved her. She was fun but not very attractive. Plus, she lived in the city, which enthralled us.
My sister and I did not much care for the woman who lived with us though - she instituted too many rules and changes and we resented it a bit. Our mother gave us regular lectures of how important it was to our livelihood to listen to her and do as she instructed. My sister was more agreeable than I was. She was the good twin and I was the rebellious one.
Then a handsome single man moved in next door. My sister and I immediately developed huge crushes on this man. He was charming and delightful and visited our home often. My sister and I spent the next few years vying for his attentions and hoping to win his love. He adored us, but we were, of course, too young to appeal to him that way.
Eventually, he returned to live in the city. Skip forward a few years and handsome gentleman returns to our home to visit. And who is with him? The woman's daughter! And she looks beautiful! We all know that they must be engaged, though no one says it yet.
But then handsome man begins individually asking the other women in the house for dinner dates. Which didn't seem too odd with the older woman - a courtesy, perhaps. But then he asks my sister to dinner, and seems to show a keen interest in her. And now it appears that perhaps he and the woman's daughter aren't to be married after all.
But he has asked everyone for a date save me. Which upsets me greatly. I believe that he is in fact in love with my sister. She is, after all, the good twin.
Only...it appears that he has asked everyone but me, because he is saving something for me. And I suspect that perhaps he is arranging time with each of them to profess his love for me and ask their permission to request my hand in marriage.
And then my alarm went off.
Which would have never happened to Jane Austin.
You know what totally eeps me out? Bubblegum-flavored Jelly Belly's.
I just can't bring myself to swallow them.
This makes me very sad.
I've never really had a strong opinion either way on the death penalty, even when my classmate was executed. I've always felt like there are some people that the world just doesn't need - like people who brutalize children. But Mike Ferrell was right when he said that the world is not a safer place with Tookie Williams gone.
I think Williams was doing good work - I do believe that he was redeeming himself with his anti-gang work and he was having a positive impact on youth. I don't think we should have put an end to that.
When My Kid had his first basketball practice, Big Daddy came home making very disparaging remarks about one of the kids on the team. I won't even repeat exactly what he said, but he basically referenced that kids like that had their own leagues and he should be playing in that league. I scolded him for talking that way about another child, especially in front of our kid.
Then I went to the first game. And I saw this kid who was completely clueless in an almost sad (but really more humorous) way. Seriously. If they pass the ball to him, he just stands there stupidly and watches it land at his feet. In a game. He doesn't try to catch it, he doesn't try to pick it up off the floor. He just stands there. Half the time, he's staring off into space, which I realize happens sometimes in baseball and soccer but a fast-paced game like basketball? You don't often see a player (especially 10-12 year olds) just standing out on the floor staring off into space. I started to understand why Big Daddy used the derogatory term that he did.
Course, it's recreational ball, so every kid has to play at least two quarters.
Well it turns out this this kid's dad is the assistant coach (remember, the head coach was Kid's soccer coach this fall, who we LOVED). The Ass Coach (as I am hereby calling him) brings his two younger children to all the practices and games with him. Even though he's busy - COACHING - and they're about 4 and 5 years old and COM.PLETE.LY out of control.
You have never seen kids like this.
During the game, they run out onto the court.
They run across the floor - while the game is in progress - and climb on the bleachers on the other side of the gym. These bleachers aren't pulled out from the wall, so they literally scale the bleachers and then run along the top of them.
It is stitches waiting to happen.
And the whole time, the dad is totally ignoring them.
Yesterday, the kids were playing on the steps of the bleachers all the parents were sitting in. They were right next to the dad, who was busy watching the game and keeping stats, and the girl spilt her gatorade on the steps. The dad yelled at the kids to get-over-here-and-sit-down or whatever, but he didn't even bother to clean up the mess.
I waited a bit but then I started to get concerned that someone's grandmother would slip on the steps or that the sticky juice would end up tracked all over the gym floor where the kids were playing ball. So I went to the restroom and pulled out a bunch of brown elementary school paper towels (which, admittedly, aren't all that absorbent) and cleaned it up myself.
And I'm kneeling down on the steps right next to Ass Coach, and I keep expecting him to say "Thank you" to me, but I guess I expect too much from people.
By the end of the 3rd quarter, the other teams were beginning to arrive for the next game. One of the moms on our team who was sitting behind me calls out to Ass Coach that his kids are beating up this other kid over by the gym door. His response? "Yeah, but we know him so it's OK."
I turned around to see what Brian's mom's reaction would be and saw that she was completely appalled by Ass Coach's response. "Well," she said to him, "there's just a lot of pushing and shoving going on over there..." and he said, "I know." End of conversation.
The parents from the other team who were sitting behind me & Big Daddy were even commenting on "those kids" during the game. They were all like "Where the hell is their mother?" and I'm thinking "Exactly."
After the game, Zach's mom said to me, "I just wanted to say 'thank you' for cleaning up that mess." She had been sitting right behind Ass Coach in the bleachers. "I couldn't believe he didn't even thank you," she said. "He looked right at you but then didn't even bother to say thanks."
I mean, right?? OK, fine - he can't break away from the game or whatever so I was willing to do it, but I'm cleaning up HIS KIDS' MESS AND HE CAN'T EVEN GRUNT A 'THANK YOU'??
Now you see what I call him the Ass Coach.
Then we discussed how out of control his children are and how our kids just never acted that way, ya know?
I mean, where IS the mother? How can this man responsibly bring two young children to the practices and games, knowing that he's not going to be available to watch them? And hello? Does he really believe that his children are well-behaved and not in need of supervision?
See, they make you take a test to drive a car, but they'll just let any old asshat have children .
I've been trying to make this post all evening. Unfortunately, My Kid who is TWELVE AND NOT REALLY A TEENAGER EVEN THOUGH HE SURE DOES FUCKING ACT LIKE ONE has decided that I need to get off his laptop every time I log on. NEVERMIND that he used MY laptop for months before his dad gave him this one.
And that my laptop no longer gets a wireless internet connection for some reason, so I can only get online on his.
And that I suffered through 14 hours of labor WITHOUT ANY DRUGS just to bring him into this world.
Yeah, nevermind all that. Just get the fuck off my computer, Mom.
Carmen, here's your Green Bench: I flipped off My Kid tonight when he wasn't looking. Yeah. Totally Mom of the Year, I'm sure.
But anyway...on to the whole reason for this post initially...
You know how much I love to get gifts! And tonight, I received my first Xmas gift!
And seriously, how generous is my friend Patricia?
This is a very luxuriant gift from Patricia. It is an Estee Lauder gift pack that is huge and worth about $250 but for some reason I can't find it on the Estee Lauder web site. But it has such luxuries as:
Lipsticks in Fig, Beige, Tiger Eye and Pink Parfait
Pure Pops Lip Gloss in Fizzy Pear and Berry Twist
Pure Color Nail Laquer in Shimmering Pink, which I can't seem to find a link to, but you can kind of get a sense of what color "shimmering pink" is, can't you?
Artist's Eye Pencil in Soft Smudge Black, which looks pretty fun, no?
Artist's Lip Pencil in Mocha Writer, which frankly looks like it would be more fun as an eyeliner since it's all kind of shimmery and stuff.
Powder, blush, eye shadow and shadow blending brushes, in their own little stand-up, lidded holder.
Lash XL in off-black which I've never used before and I'm kinda ticky about my mascara but I will totally try it out and see how it is, especially since it's off-black and not black, which I generally steer clear of.
And a fabulous gold eye shadow palette that's not on their site, but holds such colors as: Mocha Cup, Berry Ice, Mint Ice, Lemon Square, Espresso Cup, Blue Sphere, Silver Ball, and Ivory Box...so you can just imagine the fun colors there.
AND a matching gold face compact with Petal, Nectar, Transparent, and Pink Kiss.
AND it all comes is a beautiful camel-colored travel case that I'm totally going to use the next time I travel.
I tell you, I'm the luckiest girl in the world! And I only just got ONE GIFT!
See? See how easy I am to buy for? See how excited and happy I get?
Our ad agency won a national Emmy for a PSA we did encouraging people not to drive drunk.
Amy & I, we didn't actually work on the ad, but we did do PR promoting the agency's win, so we still deserve a photo, don't you think?
If you're really into that sort of thing, you can see the ad here.
Put in your favorite artist or song, and it will recommend other similar music to you. And it's totally free!
25 years ago, I was in ninth grade. My mom had driven me to school and we were sitting in the parking lot of my junior high with the car radio on.
"Oh no!" my mom suddenly said.
"What?" I kind of panicked a little because she was obviously distraught about whatever news she'd just heard.
"John Lennon is dead."
"Who's John Lennon?" I asked.
I blame her, really, for not exposing me to him earlier.
I'm listening to "Acoustic" this morning. Later, I'm heading over to Q104.3 in New York, which is playing Beatles & John Lennon music all day.
I know I've had a lot of overly serious posts lately, and that's not really what you come here expecting. I'm sorry about that and I'll try to get back to the shoes/lip gloss/shopping posts soon.
But I don't know how anyone can listen to this report and not be furious. Just completely irate and yet, so impotent to change it. I mean seriously? A man is abducted and his return warrants killing the fatted calf, but a woman is abducted and her return demands that her family kill her? For honor? It's sickening.
Please, if you only do one thing today, go to NPR and listen to this story. You think you know what the report is going to say but you're wrong. You'll be shocked at what you hear.
And if you know of any organizations who have an idea how to change a culture whose tribal tradition endorses centuries of violence against woman, please let me know because I'm totally making a big fat donation in the honor of everyone I know for their Christmas present.
I watched the character of Melvin Porter (Ossie Davis) on the L Word die slightly tentatively. It was so familiar. Or, it would have been, had I been there when my dad died.
I watched Bette reading to her father in the hospital bed, and I thought, "I should have done that." My dad would have liked that.
I've talked about my dad here before. He was an educated man. He liked opera and Shakespeare and he thought cable television was so cool because he could watch Atlanta Braves games.
He was inconsistent when I visited him in the nursing home. Sometimes he would know who I was, other times he thought he was back in World War II. Alot like Bette's dad, actually.
My dad would have really liked me to sit by his bed and read literature to him. But I wasn't there.
In the show, the characters sat around and discussed their dads. "Describe your dad, one word" they said, sipping their Dos Equis.
My dad? Old-school.
Ossie Davis died before the episode of the L Word aired. They dedicated the show to his memory.
My dad died before I grew up and got my shit together. I dedicate my life to him.
So I think it's great that Melati makes gift-giving recommendations on her blog. But me? I'm all about the gift-getting.
So if Big Daddy asks what I want for Xmas, tell him this (in large - it says they run small) and this.
And this bag, to go with my "just out of dance class urban city professional" look.
And some cute winter scarves like this or this.
And I am still DESPERATE for a tulle skirt.
Even though I'm not a big fragrance wearer, I do like this one.
I've had my eye on this cute evening bag since it came out (note: it's much smaller in person than it appears online) and now look! I see that it's featured on Project Runway. Can I pick 'em or what??
And look, I KNOW this is totally about PRIDE and all that and I do not begrudge any of you what's rightfully yours but I am really into this L Word line of jewelry. Seriously, do I have to be gay to like this ring (which, umm...if you talk to Big Daddy, would make a FABULOUS right hand ring for me given that my left hand [read: wedding] rings are a combination of white and yellow gold) or these earrings? I think not.
Tonight I was watching episode 10 of the L Word season 2, the one where Jenny has just found out that Mark was secretly filming them in the house. And she says to him, "Do you have any sisters? I want you to ask them about the very first time they were intruded upon by some man or a boy."
And he says, "What makes you think that my sisters were intruded upon?"
And Jenny says, "Because there isn't a single girl or woman in this world that hasn't been intruded upon. And sometimes it's relatively benign and sometimes it's soooo fucking painful, but you. have no idea. what this feels like."
And I remembered something that I hadn't thought about in years. About when I was 10 years old, and I went to Virginia Beach for two weeks with my best friend, Lisa, who was an only child, and her mom & dad. They rented a beach house every summer, and other family friends would often come for a weekend. That summer a family with two boys came for a few days. They were the most horrible, obnoxious boys ever, just slightly younger than Lisa & I.
After one afternoon at the beach, we returned to the house to clean up and prepare for dinner - I think maybe we were steaming blue crabs that night. Lisa & I went into our bedroom to change clothes, and the boys were standing outside our door shouting about how they were going to peak through the keyhole.
Lisa ran over in front of the closet where she couldn't be seen from the bedroom door. She called my name in a stage whisper and motioned for me to come over there. But I was too...stubborn. And determined. To stand my ground. It was like the first feminine stand I ever took. And I stood right in front of the door and I changed clothes.
Then Lisa and I walked out of the room and the annoying boy was running around the living room screaming how he saw us naked and the parents were all laughing and Lisa looked at me and said, "He probably couldn't really see through the keyhole." So I walked over to the door, leaned over and peered through the keyhole myself. Through which I could very clearly see our bedroom.
And my heart sank. And my stomach felt sick. And my mind couldn't let go of how I'd let a BOY see me NAKED. And how disappointed my parents would be. And I felt so violated. So scared. Petrified even. And so ashamed.
But at least now, I can look back on it and know that it happened because I refused to hide. Still, I wish I'd popped that horrible boy in the mouth, the way Shane did Mark.
I KNOW I'M A SCROOGE. I don't care. It is not my favorite holiday. Still, I did download this and this so you can't say I'm not trying. I'm just glad I don't live next door to this guy.
Big Daddy leaves for Minneapolis today. Current temp: 7. Feels like -6. I expect a call any minute now wanting to know where his gloves are.
The Tigers are going to the Motor City Bowl. Among The Commercial Appeal's top 10 reasons to go to Detroit: Number 5: The Lions are looking for a head coach; schedule an interview for Dec. 27. Number 2: Detroit's only the second most dangerous city in America.
Every morning when My Kid gets out of the shower he asks me two questions: "How cold is it?" and "Did it snow?" Poor boy. We really must take him somewhere cold for the holidays. Maybe I can still get him on the plane with Big Daddy this afternoon.
I went with my friend Amy to an open house at her hair salon where they had wine and cheese and this bluelight demonstration that would illuminate all the many things that could be wrong with your complexion. My face showed WHITE. WHITE WHITE WHITE. Except under my eyes, which was BROWN. I looked like dead zombie woman. According to the color-coded card, the white places were DEAD SKIN and the brown was DRY. Huh. I used to be such an exfoliating queen. And I guess I better start putting some eye cream on these almost-40-year-old eyes before the crow's feet make their appearance.
I went to run the errands early today. Usually I wait until the end of the day, but I've decided to start going to yoga class at 4 on Sundays. While I was loading groceries into the car I caught my reflection in the window. Eek. It looks like I forgot to brush my hair before I left. Which means...NO! Please tell me I didn't...Oh holy shit! I have LEFT THE HOUSE IN THE SCRUNCHIE THAT I SLEPT IN.
What the hell is wrong with me? I am totally losing it! I'm completely appalled that I went to Target, Blockbuster AND the grocery store IN A SCRUNCHIE. Gads.
And, erm...how did I miss that the second season of The L Word is out on DVD? And how much do I LOVE that new theme song? I'm totally going to iTunes now to download me some Betty.
Nothing feels better on a sore throat than the salty goodness of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.
...come home and discover that PBS is broadcasting a Queen concert (live at Wembley Stadium, circa 1986) on TV.
And turn it on really loud.
Then try to convert him by saying, "This is the band that sings 'We Will Rock You.' You know, like they play at the Tiger games..."
Note to WKNO: If just one of you had said, "Freddie Mercury was a musical genius" I totally would have called in with that $100 pledge for the DVD.
My Kid: So today we had Guidance, and we had a sub.
Me: You had a substitute guidance counselor?
Kid: No *rolls eyes* We had a sub in Mrs. McDonald's class.
Me: Mrs. McDonald teaches guidance?
Kid: No. Just forget it.
Me: Well, I'm confused. You said you had a sub in guidance...
Kid: I SAID 'forget it'
Me: Well just explain it to me.
Kid: FORGET IT
Kid: FOR. GET. IT.
Me: *rolls eyes*
And it will keep you busy for hours. Or drive you mad.
Check it out.
I have a chest cold and I feel crappy. I feel like I'm trying to breathe underwater with an iron band strapped around my chest. And being sick and feeling crappy just gets me to thinking of everything else that buggers me and pisses me off. Like...
I hate when people use their leaf blowers to blow their leaves out into the street. It's lazy, it's pointless and it is stupid.
I hate driving behind vehicles that are belching exhaust. Like city buses.
I hate the sound of the turn signal. With all the innovations they've put into cars, why can't they give us the option to turn off that sound?? I promise not to drive around with my blinker on.
I hate when my physician refers me for physical therapy and then after I've racked up a grand in charges, the insurance company denies my claim b/c the PT wasn't in their network. What? I was supposed to check that??
But you know what I love? I love when I'm sick in bed and my puppy lays outside my bedroom door and watches over me.