I So Needed This Today

  • April 8, 2009

Look what Missy at That’s So Missy did! She’s given me an Adorable Blog award. I only hope that some day my blog will look as good as Missy’s. Make sure you head over and check her out!

I pretty much knew Missy and I would hit it off, especially after I discovered she went to college in Iowa and digs Gordon Lightfoot as much as I do.

I’ve seen these awards floating around the blogosphere and now thanks to Missy, I have one of my very own. It couldn’t come at a better time either. I’m having one of those weeks where blogging has felt like something I have to do instead of something I love to do. I’m having a busy week and things should be back to normal soon.

I want to pay this forward by awarding the Adorable Blog award to the following adorable bloggers:

Re-Ramblings
Dispatches from the island
Andria and Co.

Dispatches from the island is Jorge Garcia’s blog. He plays Hurley on Lost which is my favorite show of all time (his blog is awesome too). I’m not expecting him to get very jazzed about my bestowing this award on him (or even acknowledging it if I’m being realistic), especially since it’s an Adorable Blog award and not a Your Character on Lost Totally Kicks Ass award but I don’t care.

Anyway, thanks again Missy – you made my day!

Award …Rules
– Include the award logo in your blog or post. Nominate as many blogs which you like.
– Be sure to link to your nominees within your post. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
– Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.

I Practice Rock Band Instead of Yoga

  • April 6, 2009

When the offspring started school last fall I decided I would start attending yoga class with Amy. I tend to be a bit high-strung, and hyper, and thought yoga might chill me out a little. I’d always been a cardio queen and I thought practicing yoga would be a healthy alternative to banging away on the StairMaster for forty-five minutes while I read Us Weekly. I bought a pink yoga mat and thought about all the new yoga outfits I would buy.

I imagined I’d feel a bit like Jennifer Aniston, or Gwyneth Paltrow as I breezed off to class in my yoga capri pants and ponytail. I’d probably have to call around to find a place that had lots of classes because I’d be so dedicated to my new yoga practice I wouldn’t want to skip a single day. Bikram, Ashtanga, Hatha, Vinyasa, hot yoga, I’d try them all until I decided on a favorite.

For my first yoga class, I wore a baggy pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Even though I was sure I’d love yoga, I wanted to get a feel for the most comfortable yoga wear and thought I’d see what Amy and some of the other class members recommended. I also paid for an individual class versus a package even though I knew I’d be totally in love with yoga after my first session.

The instructor’s voice was soothing and calm. It was quiet and there were candles and soft music. The class lasted an hour and at the end, we laid on the floor in the dark covered with blankets to keep us warm. Everyone seemed relaxed and refreshed when the lights came back on.

Unfortunately, I’d never been so bored in my entire life.

Seriously, for me it was like watching paint dry and I don’t think you’re supposed to be all “clock-watchy” in yoga class. And the poses were really uncomfortable. I hadn’t yet lost the twenty three pounds I’m no longer carrying around so perhaps I was not as bendy as I’d be now. I also failed to achieve any kind of zen-like state but that was probably because my sweat pants were wedged pretty far up my ass crack after the instructor asked us to do something I’ll call “pretzel pose”. I wondered if Jennifer or Gywneth had ever given themselves a wedgie in yoga class.

I think I’m just incompatible with yoga and maybe my inner chakras can only be balanced by faster and louder methods. I know there are several different types of yoga and there is probably a kind I’d enjoy more but I just don’t have the motivation to find it. Amy loves yoga so I’m kind of disappointed that I don’t like it as much as she does as it would have been an activity we could have done together. I gave up on yoga and went back to my cardio workouts.

One night at Julie and Dean’s we played Rock Band. I had never played and failed out of the song a quarter of the way through. I was on guitar and couldn’t believe how fast the notes appeared on the screen.

The offspring really liked Rock Band so we bought it for our house. Matthew and Dave hooked everything up to the old big screen TV in the basement.

Matthew instantly became proficient on the drums, utilizing skills inherently present in most nine and a half year old boys. It took me a little longer to get up to speed on guitar but I was surprised at how well I was playing in just a few days. Until then, I’d been convinced that I didn’t possess any eye-hand coordination at all.

Matthew and I played a lot over spring break. We had our favorites and we also started playing the World Tour option which allowed us to unlock new songs. One Friday night Matthew and I unlocked new songs for an hour and a half until he told me he wanted to go to bed because he was really tired (I kinda wanted to keep going but it was 10:00 and past his bedtime).

I noticed that the more I played the guitar, the more I was unable to think about anything other than the notes coming at me. I am the queen of multi-tasking but with Rock Band I have no choice but to focus because if I’m not paying attention, I will miss a note. I can’t answer anyone’s questions and I don’t want to carry on a conversation either. I can feel my mood improve after playing one or two songs and I can sense my whole body relaxing. I asked Julie if she noticed playing Rock Band relaxed her and she said yes. I told her Rock Band could be my yoga.

Matthew and I played after dinner one night last week. He left after a while to go play outside with Lauren. I kept strumming and when I finally came out of my zen-like trance I was shocked to discover I had been playing the guitar for almost forty-five minutes straight. And P.S.? Metallica’s “Battery” is really hard and requires super-human concentration.

You would think I’d play worse when I’m drinking but add wine and I become the housewife version of Eddie Van Halen. One or two glasses of cabernet sauvignon and all of a sudden I’m not missing many notes at all.

We’ve never had a video game in our house before. It’s not that I’m against them or anything but since the kids had never shown much interest I didn’t think there was any reason to bring one home. But Santa brought the wii and wii fit for Christmas and we’re slowly buying new games for it.

Rock Band is great because it’s a family friendly game and it’s something Dave and I can play with the offspring. And it’s a hell of a lot more fun than playing with Legos or something from My Little Pony.

I still do a lot of cardio. Frankly it’s the only thing that keeps me sane and if I didn’t do it I’d probably need Prozac. But I’m also realizing how effective a video game can be in quieting all the clutter in my head.

Matthew and I played alot of Rock Band on Sunday and I didn’t feel guilty at all since it snowed the entire day. Matthew wanted me to challenge myself by playing on medium difficulty since easy is getting, well, pretty easy. I’m not that good, but I’m getting better every day and will probably play on medium difficulty from now on.

It’s going to take a little longer to master Metallica though.

Get Over Yourself Kelly Killoren Bensimon

  • March 31, 2009

Last night’s episode of The Real Housewives of New York City began with Ramona inviting Kelly to attend the Badgley Mischka fashion show with her. While they were waiting for the show to begin, Kelly complained to Ramona that Bethenny had insulted her during the meeting for Jill’s charity by referring to Kelly as “Madonna.” Kelly then said to Ramona, “bad manners are really, really, repulsive to me.”

Ramona, displaying a diplomatic streak I’m not used to, asked Kelly if she thought Bethenny was jealous of, or threatened by her.

“No”, Kelly replied. “That would be like me being jealous of you.” Ramona seemed as confused as I was as she tried to process the backhanded compliment/insult. Kelly continued by saying she couldn’t possibly be jealous because they “live in different worlds.”

After the show, Ramona asked Kelly’s advice for dealing with Simon and Kelly immediately launched into Dr. Phil mode, asking Ramona why she would waste so much energy worrying about her interaction with Simon.

Kelly: “You’re too much of a great girl, you have so many awesome things going on, and you have this amazing energy. Why are you wasting it?
Ramona: “You’re right, you’re right.
Kelly: “I mean you’ll just be the polite awesome girl that you are.”
Ramona: “Oh, that’s so sweet.” (They kiss)
Kelly: “I like you. I’m an awesome judge of character, that’s why this thing with Bethenny is bothering me. I want her to know there was no reason for her to be like that.”

Ramona the diplomat surprised me again by coming to Bethenny’s defense, saying that Bethenny grew up alone. Kelly replied that she didn’t care if Bethenny grew up in the woods, there was no reason for her to do what she did (because calling someone Madonna is SO FREAKING MEAN).

Next Jill and her gay husband Brad are putting the finishing touches on her apartment re-decoration project. Jill informs Bobby that they are over budget and Bobby gives Jill a creepy smile saying it’s okay (and I’m guessing Jill’s going to have to do something really icky in bed with Bobby to make up for it).

Meanwhile, in Brooklyn, Simon and Alex are conferring with one of their subcontractors. They mention that they will be hanging a huge picture of Alice Cooper, complete with snake, and the subcontractor says, “I’m glad to hear you’re edgy” but what he’s really thinking is “you’re ridiculous and one of you is gay.” Simon then tells everyone how full of information his brain is, and how good he is at juggling it and moving it around. He says, apropos of nothing, that he’s always had a brain for numbers and information and that as a child he used to read encyclopedias instead of novels.

There was a preview for The Real Housewives of New Jersey and I got so excited I peed a little when I squealed, “Dave, I can’t wait for this show to start!” (tune in on May 12th).

Next up, the Kelly/Bethenny smackdown we’d all been waiting for. I gotta say, Kelly Killoren Bensimon went off the rails on a crazy train last night.

Bethenny was such a lady during Kelly’s non-sensical tirade that I immediately felt like donning pearls and pantyhose and brewing myself a nice cup of Earl Grey tea that I would drink with my pinky sticking out.

Here’s how it went down:

Kelly thought Bethenny needed a time out so she called and requested they meet for a drink, supposedly so Kelly could scold Bethenny for calling her Madonna at the charity meeting.

Forty year old Kelly breezed in thirty minutes late in her Forever 21 Flashdance outfit, complete with pink knee-high boots. She forgot to use blotting papers on her face, again.

Kelly thanked Bethenny for meeting her and Bethenny said, “Yeah, thanks I’ve been here for almost a half hour.” Kelly replied, “Really? That’s too bad.”

Kelly goes on to tell Bethenny that she just wants to make it perfectly clear, so that they’re on the same page, that they’re not friends. She tells Bethenny her attitude is “for kids” and that “you will come up to me, I don’t go down to you.”

Bethenny replies that “I don’t do anything that you want me to do.”

At this point the axis of power starts to shift toward Bethenny and I think Kelly is starting to figure it out. She stalls for time and Bethenny asks her, “I’m waiting to hear what you invited me here to say.” Kelly informs Bethenny that she will not “indulge her in this” and explains that she is “up here” and Bethenny is “down there.” Bethenny says, “And I’m down here, why?” to which Kelly replies, “Because I won’t put up with you antics and your bullshit.”

Kelly also tells Bethenny how “embarrassed she was for her” at Jill’s charity meeting and then Bethenny gets a good one in by reminding Kelly that she was embarrassed for her because of her “arthritis is cute” comment.

They go down memory lane for a while and argue back and forth. Kelly explains how she was “so disgusted by Bethenny’s behavior” and Bethenny asked what that behavior was, and Kelly responded, “You tell me.”

When Bethenny goes to leave Kelly is still hanging out in the doorway and she tells Bethenny “you just need to chill out” to which Bethenny accurately responds “I am calm.” Kelly says, “You’re so crazy! I have to go on my date now, bye!”

Bethenny correctly summed up the whole exchange, and Kelly, as a Kel-amity!

(I am so getting me a “Team Bethenny” t-shirt. I’ve also developed a bit of a girl-crush on her after last night).

Kelly flounced off for her date with Max, the almost English-speaking sorta hot guy. Kelly proceeded to give a re-cap of her and Bethenny’s fight but it didn’t matter because I think Max only understood every third word.

Bethenny accompanied Ramona to Mario’s tennis match and has a chance to tell Ramona about what happened between her and Kelly. Ramona further amazes me by listening and then stating that “not everyone is going to like everyone.”

Kelly picked up LuAnn in a limo and they went out for the evening. Kelly gave LuAnn the rundown on what happened between her and Bethenny and the Countess defended Bethenny and subtly pointed out the rude things Kelly did like scheduling a meeting and showing up late. I kinda loved the Countess in that scene and I feel bad because I read on the Internet that Count Chocula left LuAnn for some Ethiopian gal.

Mario got into a skerfuffle with Jill about their upcoming doubles tennis match and creepy Bobby looked like he might be contemplating having someone come and break Mario’s kneecaps. Ramona and Mario then got into another skerfuffle, this time with Alex and Simon. Apparently Ramona and Mario were peeved they weren’t given the heads up before the nekkid pictures of Alex hit the newsstand. Ramona told Alex she “doesn’t believe anything you say” and Alex shot back with, “you’re rude!”

Thank God the episode ended because I couldn’t take any more fighting. I imagine Kelly’s “laying low” today but I hope Bethenny walked through the streets of New York this morning with her head held high.

The Purse Post

  • March 30, 2009

Missy recently tagged me to write a post about the contents of my purse.

I just met Missy and I like her even though she’s a Cyclone and I’m a Hawkeye. I’m wondering if Missy realizes just how much I’ve posted about a certain purse on this blog, namely the Dooney and Bourke medium Chiara bag in black leather that I still don’t own. If you’d like the back story, please click here.

As many of you know, I launched a plan in late December to earn some money to buy the Dooney after Santa fucked me over let me down. Between selling my eggs on Craig’s List, donating blood, and stripping at the Lumberyard, I was positive I’d earn enough money to buy it myself.

Unfortunately, some meddling whore over on Craig’s List read my blog and told everyone not to buy my eggs because any children produced from them would probably have webbed feet and a tail.

And I never did make it to The Lumberyard because Dave got all bent out of shape at the idea of me stripping. I reminded him that before Diablo Cody wrote the screenplay for Juno she wrote a memoir titled Candy Girl which chronicled her experiences as a stripper in Minnesota. Her guy was cool with it and even married her later. Dave still said no way and I read the other day that Diablo and her husband got divorced so maybe Dave knows what he’s talking about.

And I never sold my blood because the Blood Center of Iowa only wants it if it’s free. Huh.

And then when I finally scraped up enough cash to buy the Dooney, those mother-effers at Younkers and Dillards no longer had it in stock.

This is a picture of my actual purse. I’ve been carrying it all winter and I’ll probably be carrying it until I die. I got it at Banana Republic two years ago and I like it because it’s big enough to hold all my stuff, two bottles of wine, and Chloe.

This is my boring brown wallet and my boring brown checkbook cover with the nerdy clip which holds back all the pages of my checkbook register. Below that is my little collection of Aveda goodies (click to enlarge). I love the smell of everything Aveda, especially their Shampure shampoo and conditioner. The little spray bottle on the left is perfume that they mixed for me at the Aveda salon I go to (I had a coupon and got it for free, yay!).

The next two items are necessary because the offspring often have something coming out of their nose or something sticky all over their hands. But rest assured, you will never see either of my kids coming toward you with something gross streaming from their nose while I appear to be blind and act like I don’t see it like some moms (I’ve been known to yell “Uh, little Johnny needs a kleenex RIGHT NOW!”). Below that is the epi-pen and Benadryl I carry at all times because Lauren is allergic to eggs. I’ve never had to use it which is a good thing because I’m afraid I’ll panic and shoot epinephrine into my thumb and not Lauren’s thigh.

Next we have my Weight Watchers points slider thingy, weigh in booklet, hand lotion, cell phone, lip gloss, and chapstick. I never use the lip gloss but I’m completely addicted to cherry chapstick. The cell phone was chosen solely for the fact that it’s red which is my favorite color.





My purse isn’t very full or interesting. But you know whose purse would be interesting? Trish’s. It’s half the size of mine yet she has twice the amount of crap shoved in it. Usually stuff is overflowing out the top. Seriously, I bet there’s some pretty odd shit in there. Next time she’s over I’ll try to take pictures of everything in her purse but I’ll probably have to do it on the down-low because after she reads this post she’s going to be pissed off at me for a little while.

I think that’s all you need to know about my purse. Please come back next week so I can regale you with the contents of my kitchen utensil drawer, affectionately known in our house as “the portal to hell.”

Hey, this post is kind of special

  • March 29, 2009

Glittering Thanks



Because it’s my 100th post since I started blogging on November 6, 2008.

I’d like to thank several people for being so supportive of my efforts especially Tom, Amy, Stef, Dave, Stefanie, and Trish since they were the ones I forced to read my first blog entries and demanded they “tell me if I’m funny.”

Kristi, Keri, and Cindy were also three of my early readers who encouraged me to keep writing by leaving positive feedback on my Facebook wall. I really appreciate it girls!

Louise is awesome! Not only did she forward my blog to Noelle, Elisa, and Cindy, she updated her Facebook status last week to “I think everyone should go to Tracey Garvis-Graves’ blog.” Louise doubled my blog traffic and gave me the highest number of hits I’ve ever received in one day. Thanks Weezie!

To Shellie, Shelly, Brooke, Stefanie, Trish, Kathryn, Lisa, Elisa, Andria, Missy, ReRe, and Amy, thank you for leaving comments on my blog. I get really excited when I notice I have a comment.

To my new blogging friends, thanks for convincing me to come out and play with you. I’m following you too now and look forward to good times in the blogosphere.

Lastly, can everyone come out and say hi today? If you’ve been lurking, this would be a great time to introduce yourself.

Thanks for reading everyone. I really appreciate it.

Tracey

Yes, Fargo, you have a problem

  • March 27, 2009

But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

I’m not trying to be unsympathetic. However, I live in a suburb of Des Moines, Iowa and having experienced first hand the floods of 1993, which were among the most costly and devastating ever to occur in the United States, I think I know what I’m talking about.

Yes, you’re experiencing massive flooding and property loss, but if your Red River doesn’t swamp your water treatment center, you’ll still be better off than we were.

In July of 1993, we experienced constant heavy rainfall which culminated in the Raccoon River overflowing its banks and flooding the Des Moines Water Works treatment facility. Sometime after 3:00 AM on July 11th, the plant was powered down and Des Moines would not have running water again until July 22nd. Water was not certified safe to drink until July 29th.

Imagine for a minute what it would be like if your home was without running water for ten days in the middle of the summer. Now I kinda understand why the Ingalls family only bathed once a week on Little House on the Prairie.

Dave and I had spent the evening of July 10th getting our drink on with Dale and Joan at Billy Joe’s picture show, a movie theater/karaoke bar on Des Moines’ west side.

It was raining, as usual, and at one point Billy Joe’s electricity went out which rang not one alarm bell in our alcohol-addled brains. We weren’t thinking about the loss of electricity signaling a larger approaching problem. We were patiently waiting our turn to sing and our karaoke fun was postponed while we sat there in the dark waiting for the power to come back on. (I’m still not sure what happened but I think the already encroaching floodwaters might have shorted out something important somewhere).

I just wanted to sing. I had already handed in my request card for Olivia Newton John’s “Let Me Be There” and was just waiting for my name to be called. And Dave and I hadn’t had a chance to sing our original version of The Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight” yet either. Dave always added a special bomb noise sound effect after the words “sky rockets in flight” which was pretty much guaranteed to bring down the house.

The power finally came back on and I think the four of us closed the bar down. We went home and fell into a deep Bud Light fueled coma.

Sometime after 3:00 AM, L.D. McMullen pulled the plug on Des Moines’ water supply and the television stations went nuts. All the vampires watching the broadcasts immediately filled their bathtubs and sinks with the last of the water in the pipes and rushed out to buy every available gallon of water the grocery stores had on their shelves. Dave and I were still drooling and snoring.

As was our routine, we were still asleep the next morning when our phone started ringing off the hook. Both sets of parents and various friends were calling to warn us that no water would be coming out our taps and that none of the grocery stores had any water left. We ignored the ringing phone for several hours and let the machine answer all the calls. When we finally got up that Sunday morning, turned on the TV, and listened to all our phone messages, it was almost 11:00 AM. Since everyone else had been reacting to the crisis for close to seven hours, Dave and I were pretty well hosed.

I still had to go to work the next day. There was no longer a dress code and I showed up un-showered wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and my Birkenstocks. And in case you’re thinking, “oh my God, you didn’t shower?” No, I didn’t. Because there was no way to shower. The National Guard came and set up water stations and you could wait in line to receive two gallons of clean drinkable water. Whether you chose to bathe in it, drink it, or make iced tea was your business.

Luckily my dad, as a business owner, had booked some hotel rooms for his employees in a town fifteen miles away and Dave and I finagled one of them for ourselves so we had access to running water and showers, an amenity I will never take for granted ever again.

Dave worked in a high rise and was given almost two weeks off, with pay. The rationale was that, if there was a fire in his building everyone would die because the fire department wouldn’t have any water to spray on the fire. Dave spent the time wisely, drinking at the bars with all the other lucky employees who worked in buildings more than three stories tall.

The insurance company where I worked was not a high rise and until Governor Branstad MADE local businesses shorten their operations to half-days, I was expected to show up.

And even though I have a strict policy never to take a number two anywhere but my own bathroom, I was forced to take a poop in an overflowing port-a-potty at work when I couldn‘t hold it any longer. There was no running water to wash your hands afterwards and P.S.? Hand sanitizer is NOT THE SAME THING. Forcing a clean-freak (with borderline OCD ) like me to skip this important step in personal hygiene is like locking someone with arachnophobia in a small windowless room with thirty seven squillion hairy tarantulas (I also refused to shake hands with anyone in Des Moines until the water came back on).

When we finally returned to our condo and had running water again, Dave caught me throwing away the dishes and silverware that had been sitting in our dishwasher for ten days because they were covered with so much mold I could have made penicillin for every resident of our condo complex.

Dave insisted on soaking them in the sink and I ran them through the dishwasher nine times while repeating to myself, “I like blue cheese, I like blue cheese.“

So Fargo? I feel for you, I really do. And as a show of support, Amy and I will temporarily stop using our Fargo names of Marge and Barb, respectively, and we’ll quit talking to each other in our obnoxious Fargo accents which crack us both up (but sort of annoys Stef and Mindy).

But only until you dry out guys.

The Real Housewives of NYC-Fashion Week

  • March 26, 2009

Last night on The Real Housewives of NYC, we got to observe the ladies attending several fashion shows (with front row seats, natch).

The episode begins with the Countess giving Bethenny dating advice. Bethenny correctly sums up the conversation by stating that obviously no one thinks she’s ever gone out with a man before.

The Countess is really starting to sound like a know-it-all blowhard and if she was as classy as she thinks she is she never would have agreed to be on this show.

Bra-less, horsey, Kelly Killoren with the linebacker shoulders spends quality time going through a massive pile of fashion week invitations with her assistant while wearing faded cut off jeans appropriate for a twenty year old. I also desperately want to hand her blotting papers or a compact because sometimes she looks really shiny.

Did you all know Kelly is not only an editor and a columnist, she’s an author? She wrote a book about the bikini! I’m going to write a book about the trench coat this summer because apparently there is a market for this kind of literary bullshit.

Jill visits another gay man, this time an Asian designer who is “fabulous.” He’s going to dress her for fashion week and a luncheon she’s planning for her and twenty of her friends.

Jill squeezes herself into a sample size zero and dislocates her own shoulder trying to pat herself on the back. The fact that the dress can’t be zipped up doesn’t bother anyone and Jill even remarks that “Bobby should be pretty happy.” I think Bobby should be happy that he has enough money to convince a woman to marry him but that’s because I think Bobby looks like a reptile.

Alex and Simon head to the chi-chi Christopher Deane boutique, one of many thriving cutting edge design teams located in Brooklyn. Alex mentions her closet is full because she still has all her maternity clothes and then Simon announces to the world that he’s had himself neutered so if there’s any impregnating in the future, Alex is gonna have some ’splainin to do.

And by the way, Alex seriously needs to find an ass-fat donor so she can plump up her skinny lips (pick me! pick me!). Her mouth looks like it’s missing half the time and it’s starting to creep me out.

Simon and Alex attend a fashion show and on the way to their seats, Simon decides to have a “why don’t you like me summit” with Ramona who is sitting in the front row with Kelly. Although I am not a huge Ramona fan, I think she handled the exchange well, especially since bone-headed Simon picked a really inappropriate time and place to initiate the inane conversation. Ramona showed remarkable restraint by agreeing with Simon when he accused her of “blanking” him. She finally admitted that she felt Simon had no depth, which he couldn’t comprehend because he has a misguided over-inflated ego and a complete lack of self-awareness. I think Ramona could buy and sell Simon, without Mario’s help, any time she felt like it and she’s decided to declare him persona non grata. I just wish she’d make him invisible but Bravo won’t let that happen.

Alex and Simon finally sit down and Simon mentioned how delighted he is to be known as Mr. Van Kempen instead of Alex McCord’s wife. He leaned over to her and said, “I’m a man of my own right now darling.”

HahhahahahahahahohIjustpeedhahahahahahahahahastopsimonstopohmygodtoofunnyhahahahhahahahyoufoolyouareridiculousohmygodmorepeeinghahahahahhaahha.

(Peeling self off floor, changing out of pee-pee soaked pants and tapping Simon on shoulder) Actually, you’re Bravo’s bitch, ‘kay? Or, the creepiest weird man in Brooklyn. But you have not arrived anywhere and you never will dahling.

Sure, leaking those photos of your nude wife onto the Internet was a brilliant PR coup, but you’re going to have to keep appearing like a big doofus on Real Housewives if you want to prolong your fifteen minutes of fame. So far, Simon, you’re doing splendidly.

Lastly, we see all the housewives, including Kelly who was half an hour late, sitting around a table discussing Jill’s charity event “Creaky Joints” which will benefit arthritis research.

Jill said to Kelly, “I don’t know if you know this but Ally (Jill’s daughter) has arthritis so that’s why I wanted to plan this benefit.”

Kelly replied, “Oh, I didn’t know that. How cute.”

Um, what?

I now officially hate Kelly. How can you be so simultaneously clueless AND socially oblivious?

I imagine Kelly’s friends coming up to her and saying:

“Hey Kelly, I just found out my cat has feline leukemia and has mere seconds to live.”

Kelly: “Sweet!”

Or, “Kelly, my ninety year old neighbor fell and broke her hip and has to move to a nursing home.”

Kelly: “Right on!”

Kelly then got all self-righteous about her name being attached to the charity in any way and the rest of the housewives stabbed her with forks and she died.

Next week, Bethenny and Kelly elevate their catfight to a higher level and I guaran-damn-tee no one will want to miss this pissing match.

Oh, and does everyone know about Bravo’s newest franchise, The Real Housewives of New Jersey?

That one just might make me implode.

Tracey’s shit list

  • March 25, 2009

1. Chloe. Please be advised that when your barking awakens everyone in the house at 5:11 AM it falls under my job description to get up and investigate. Discovering our neighbor’s dog (think huge, slobbering, and looks like it should have a keg of brandy around its neck) unleashed and sitting creepily in their front yard doesn‘t mean you need to go ballistic. Chill, Scrappy Doo. We have an invisible fence and everyone knows you’re not going anywhere so put down your dukes and shut up so we can all go back to sleep.

2. Ford Motor Company. Seriously, the only reason I deviated from my “all Japanese engineering all the time” standards is because my dad sold me this Ford Explorer on the cheap. We needed a bigger vehicle and he happened to be selling one but so help me God if I have to replace my power antennae for the THIRD time I will fly to Detroit, march into your manufacturing plant, and start randomly beating production workers with the antennae. I should have just left it broken after I parked under a big tree at Barnes and Noble and bent it all to hell when I backed out of my parking space. Looking ghetto would have been a small price to pay compared to the “nails on a chalkboard” noise I have to listen to every time my (BRAND FUCKING NEW) antennae goes down when I turn off the ignition.

3. Sears. First of all, no one goes to your shitty store unless they need a lawnmower, a major appliance, or in my case, they have to pick up their husband’s new grill.

Firstly, when I pull up into the parking spot reserved for merchandise pickup and your sign instructs me to call a number and wait in my car so that I will be assisted in five minutes guaranteed, PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE.

Secondly, when I walk into your store it will not make me very happy when you laugh and tell me the sign is old and the number “doesn’t even work anymore.” It’s not wise to keep telling me how wrong I’m doing the merchandise pickup thing unless you have some sort of death wish.

When I finally got back outside and through another set of doors to the kiosk they’ve told me about, I managed to do that all wrong as well. I touched the screen, it asked me to type in my last name, and then it informed me my merchandise would be REPAIRED soon (average wait time 28 minutes).

Luckily for Sears, some dude came out and I explained that I was just there to pick up an already-paid-for-should-be-assembled grill. He disappeared and I stood around, messing with the kiosk thingy trying to figure out why it thought I was there for repair.

I finally realized that I tapped the screen too fast and it skipped the main menu that allows you to choose the merchandise pickup option. I experimented with how slow you need to tap the screen and I think I initiated four or five fictitious merchandise pickup orders, which hopefully crippled their whole stupid system.

Lastly, two nineteen year old boys managed to shove the grill into my shit-list Ford Explorer and its obvious they spent their lunch hour smoking. I’ll be lucky to get Beavis and Butthead’s Marlboro fumes out of my vehicle by next Tuesday.

Wow, I feel a lot better now.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post: The Real Housewives do Fashion Week.

McDonald’s Monday

  • March 24, 2009

Yesterday was McDonald’s Monday at our house.

Lauren has tap and ballet after school and by the time we get home an hour later, the offspring are threatening to gnaw off their own arms unless I produce dinner immediately. A quick detour through the McDonald’s drive thru after dance class is a convenient and fast way to make everyone happy.

I realize they’re hungry. Lauren has just danced for an hour and Matthew is a nine and a half year old bottomless pit. Mama’s hungry too, especially since I’m following the low-fat reduced-calorie eating plan that Weight Watchers doesn’t think is a diet (ok, whatever).

I still make Dave and myself a healthy dinner when I get home although I’m starting to wonder if he wouldn’t like his own McDonald’s meal since he pissed Lauren off by eating half her fries and stealing a chicken McNugget.

The McDonald’s near our house has about a 60% accuracy rate when filling our order. It only took one or two instances of somebody’s happy meal being fucked up before Dave and I learned to always check the bag before leaving the drive thru.

When we went to McDonald’s last night, I pulled up to the window and prepared to launch my usual quality control efforts to ensure there would be no shortage of food.

I try to be quick when I do this because I don’t want to jack up the whole drive thru at McDonald’s and make all the other customers mad.

A teenaged boy who desperately needed Accutane handed me the bag and I quickly checked to make sure there were two orders of nuggets and two fries by counting them out loud.

I turned back to the window for the drinks and the boy handed me the cups one at a time. As he handed them to me he said, “here’s o-n-e and here’s t-w-o.” He spoke extra slowly and exaggerated the motion of handing me the drinks one at a time.

Wait a minute. I think Jr. McZitty Face might be mocking me.

Does he have any idea he has a pre-menstrual housewife in his drive thru and she’s not hormonally stable?

I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I am a mature mother of two and perhaps he’s just a slow talker.

I suddenly realize that they have forgotten to include Matthew’s order of apple dippers and I inform Jr. McZitty that they’re missing. I feel simultaneously vindicated yet irritated.

Zitty hands me the apple dippers and says (very condescendingly) “do you need me to put them in their own bag?”

“No,” I said. “I need you to stop being a smart-ass!”

I grab the apple dippers and haul ass out of the drive thru, forgetting about the big bump in the parking lot and I think my Explorer might have suffered minor axle damage.

Lauren asks from the back seat, “Did you just say ass?”

“Yes Lauren, yes I did. And I was wrong to say that in front of you.”

“Is this like that one time when you got in a fight at McDonald’s about the happy meal toy?”

“Um, yeah, a little bit. But its okay, I’ve calmed down now so don’t worry.”

I got home and re-enacted the whole thing for Dave. He’s not a fan of our neighborhood McDonald’s but my prefacing the story with “maybe I just have PMS” probably convinced him that nodding and agreeing with me was the only safe option.

Maybe Jr. McZitty didn’t mean anything by his mannerisms and comments. Perhaps I am wound a bit tight right now but I’m dealing with a serious Estrogen/Progesterone deficit so it’s not intentional, it’s just out of my control.

Hopefully things will go better next week on McDonald‘s Monday. I can’t promise there won’t be a smack down but I can promise to try harder.

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