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It’s my blog and I’ll write if I want to

  • January 22, 2009

My sister in law Stefanie sent me an e-mail the other day letting me know she left a comment on my blog. She mentioned she had never heard the adult diaper story and thought it was funny. She said she hoped Debby never got a hold of my blog because if she did, she’d need her own diaper because she’d probably crap.

My mom and dad got divorced when I was seven years old. Debby is my step – mom. She’s an important part of my life and she’s been with my dad since I was twelve. Even though Debby will never take the place of my mom, who died when I was 18, she comes pretty damn close.

Lots of people have asked me what I’d do if my dad and Debby found my blog. Damage control, probably. But I’m 41 years old and at some point we all have to come to the realization that we only really need to answer to ourselves (and maybe the police and God).

I have no such concerns about my mother in law reading my blog posts. Dave and his siblings spent a year of their childhood living in a Winnebago touring the west coast with their mom and her boyfriend (who went by the moniker Poet). I’m guessing she’d be A-OK with everything I’ve written.

Since I haven’t told my dad and Debby I’ve started a blog, they’d have to stumble across it on their own. That might not be so difficult since I used for the domain name. If they Google me, they’ll see it. They’re getting pretty technically savvy at their house.

I’m not trying to hide anything. Some might wonder why I even care, at my age, if my dad and Debby read it. But I do care. I have a lot of respect for them and some of the things I blog about are things they might not necessarily be proud of.

I’ve posted about things I’ve done that are “technically” illegal. But much like the proverbial tree that falls in the forest when no one is around to hear it, I like to think my illegal shenanigans don’t count if certain people don’t know about them (plus the statute of limitations has long since run out on any of the crap I’ve pulled. I’m not entirely stupid).

I’ve always been the one no one has to worry about. I’ve only had one husband, both my kids are by the same father, and I don’t do anything freaky like practice witchcraft or swing with my neighbors. I try not to embarrass anyone with my blog posts but myself (and sometimes Trish).

I’ve never been arrested. The closest I’ve come to the clink was when the campus police pulled Noelle and me off the roof of Seashore Hall after we ate a big pile of ‘shrooms. The officer loaded us into his pseudo cop car and drove us back to the dorms. Even though we asked nicely, and thought it would be hysterical, he wouldn’t turn on his lights and sirens and run all the red lights. He deposited us back at our dorm and promised us the incident would appear in the Daily Iowan (we made sure he wrote down our first and last names). He must have been lying though because we never saw any mention of it in the paper.

I’d have to do a lot to surpass some of the stunts my siblings have pulled. God knows Trish has set the bar pretty high. But as I sit here polishing my sparkly good girl tiara, I realize my perch on the pedestal I’ve placed myself is growing more precarious by the day. The more people that read the blog, the better chance I have for someone to mention it to dad and Debby.

I should be more worried about a potential employer finding it. I’m guessing even if I’m hired by a company that doesn’t drug test, I might be asked to pee in a cup (I would like to think I’d pass but I might go to Jamaica again). I’d rather cover my naked body in honey and roll around in a pit of fire ants then put my neck in the noose of corporate America again but I may not have a choice. And blogging might make me less employable than I already am after a nine year hiatus from the work force. Let’s hope Human Resources has a sense of humor.

Sometimes I think about telling my dad I’m writing a blog. He knows I like to write and he’d be happy I was doing something I enjoy. But it would be kind of like telling him I’m earning some serious coin as a stripper. On one hand, yay for me for earning a nice living. On the other hand, he probably wouldn’t brag about me to his Friday morning breakfast group. I’m guessing telling all his friends I write a blog that highlights my love of wine and showcases my potty mouth wouldn’t be something he could get real excited about either.

My dad has always operated on a need to know basis. I once rolled in at 6:30 on a Sunday morning without a shirt on under my coat (I couldn’t find it in the dark. Could happen to anyone). He didn’t ask any questions, just offered me a cup of coffee. I was 21 at the time and home on break from college so he probably figured there wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. I love that about him. Debby is the one I’m worried about. She thinks Redbook magazine is kind of racy so if she reads the blog, the top of her head might blow off. She’s a bit more conservative than me.

When Matthew was a baby Dixie the psychic told me I would start writing again someday when the kids were out of the house. She said I would want something just for me. I never forgot what she said and I don’t know if the blog is just a self fulfilling prophecy or she really could see into the future.

For the first time in 9 years, my house is quiet during the day while the kids are in school. Blogging is something I tried and discovered I really liked. That fact that some people read it regularly blows my mind and I appreciate it. If you’re one of them, thank you.

Sooner or later I’ll tell dad and Debby about the blog. They’re welcome to read it at their own risk, of course. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve written but my dad would probably be a little surprised by my language and some of my behavior. His opinion will always mean something to me. And no matter how old I am, there will always be a part of me that is still daddy’s little girl.

Must Love Dogs

  • January 20, 2009

Lauren and I went to see Hotel for Dogs on Sunday afternoon. Dave and Matthew thought Paul Blart: Mall Cop was more their style so we split up after lunch at Champps (where all the waitresses had Amy Winehouse beehives for some reason. Amy Winehouse is totally fugly so either I’m getting really effing old or I missed some sort of hair memo. One Amy Winehouse impersonator came perilously close to dragging her skeevy dreads through my Greek salad and I wanted to gag. Hairnets. Good idea, yes?).
Anyway, I really enjoyed Hotel for Dogs. It was a bit formulaic and predictable but it had a happy ending. I cried anyway even though I knew they were HOLLYWOOD DOGS and not in any real danger. My loathsome PMS had reared its ugly head again and had I been at Marley and Me it would have taken a team of men in white coats and a big ass tranquilizer to get my emotions under control (I read the book – I know how that one ends).
After the movie we went to dad and Debby’s for dinner and I was bragging about my 10 lb. weight loss. I said I still wasn’t sure what had happened that made another trip to Weight Watchers necessary. Usually I only go there after I’ve had a baby and this is the third time I’ve joined. I only have two kids and even my rudimentary math skills told me that didn’t add up.
Then, I had an epiphany. I may not have had another baby but I had a Chloe and that’s awfully close in my book.
Chloe is the first pet we’ve had as a family. Actually we had a couple hamsters before that (starter pets, if you will) but they have a pretty short life expectancy and I don’t recommend them unless you want your children to experience the traumatic death of a pet every 18 months or so.
A little over a year ago, right after the last hamster died (R.I.P. Murphy), Dave and the kids started hinting around that a puppy might be nice.
I wasn’t so sure. I love animals. I mean like, really love them. I was quite attached to the hamsters. But a puppy was a huge responsibility I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I also knew I’d be the one taking care of it.
Slowly, they wore me down.
Dave did quite a bit of research and compiled a list of suitable dog breeds for our household. The Cairn Terrier (like Toto from The Wizard of Oz) was one that Dave thought would be great for our family.
My big mouth and I mentioned that a veterinarian had listed an ad in the Sunday paper about a litter of Cairn Terrier puppies he had available.
Dave called and spoke to the vet and suddenly we were on our way to take a look. I knew we’d be coming home with one. I may have had some reservations about getting a puppy, but you can’t stick me in a room full of them and expect me to walk away empty handed. I love cute, furry, cuddly things almost as much as I love wine.
Dave and I decided we needed to come up with a code word in case the vet turned out to be a deranged lunatic. If we noticed anything worrisome about the vet or the puppies, we wanted a way to communicate that operation “we’re getting a puppy” had encountered a problem. I don’t know how in God’s name glockenspiel became our family code word but that‘s what we decided on (just try to work it into a sentence).
The vet turned out to very nice and totally normal. He brought all three puppies into the room and we played with them for over an hour.
We selected a calm female puppy and named her Chloe. We left with a little 1.4 lb. ball of cute and drove straight to Pet Smart.
The first nights, and the first three months, were hard (mostly on me). I had never potty trained a puppy before and I thought I was all done with the getting up in the middle of the night nonsense.

I spent most of November, December, and January standing in the front yard, in the snow, while Chloe did her business. I walked through knee high drifts in the back yard while the invisible fence guy and I taught Chloe where her boundaries were. And I took her out in the middle of the night when she cried.
We hung a bell by the door and taught Chloe how to ring it when she wanted to go out. Things got a lot better after that but it was several months before I let Chloe roam the house without worrying that someone would step on her or she’d pee or poop on the carpet.
When people came over we showed everyone all the tricks Chloe had learned in puppy school. We e-mailed pictures and slide shows to our friends and family. We regaled them with stories about all the cute things she’d done.
See, it’s just like when we had human babies. We assumed everyone was as enthralled by our puppy as we were and we bored them silly with our pet anecdotes.
Chloe is an important member of this household. Now I have three kids to check on when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I often sneak Chloe into bed with us even though Dave says he can’t sleep with her cuddled up next to him (yes he can, I’ve seen him). He loves her as much as the rest of us.
I’m just kidding about blaming Chloe for my return to Weight Watchers. I’m pretty sure the cosmopolitans and pizza had something to do with it. I just needed to make time to get in shape for swimsuit season. And with three kids (4 if we count Dave) that’s sometimes hard to do.

Tracey is having a birthday!

  • January 19, 2009

Dear David,

There are only 6 shopping days left until I turn 42. Though you probably won’t go near a mall until the day before my birthday, I’ve compiled a list of things I would enjoy receiving from you (in case you want to start shopping early).

1. The Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather (not the patent leather one – patent is shiny. Just do what you usually do and tell the salesperson exactly what you need and then let them find it). I am going to ask for this handbag on every gift giving holiday from now until eternity (or I receive it, whichever comes first. To hell with my New Year’s resolution not to keep talking about it).

2. Black Uggs (the tall ones). I saw a 7 year old girl wearing them the other day and I almost snapped. The bastards at Younkers don’t sell them so you’ll have to go to Dillard’s (where the Dooney and Bourke handbags are also sold).

3. Nike Shox workout shoes. I need to replace my shoes if I’m going to continue going to Body Jam classes at the Y. My current shoes are getting worn out and if I trip and fall on my ass I won’t be able to wait on everyone hand and foot. Think of the shoes as a gift to the whole family.

4. Approximately 40 units of Botox. Stacy told me all about what Botox can do and I want to try it (no medi spas please. Dr. Feldman is the only one I trust to shoot poison into my forehead). While you’re at Dr. Feldman’s please grab a brochure for Restalyne (Stacy’s just recently filled my head with what this wonder drug can do).

5. Jo Malone Grapefruit Cologne. You can find this at Sephora at Jordan Creek Mall. You were so sweet to buy me Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle (that I asked you for) as one of my past birthday gifts but unfortunately it smells horrible on me. I do not smell like a mademoiselle, I smell like a 90 year old Madame when I wear it. I’ve done my research this time and the grapefruit scent is fabulous.

6. Please, no gifts from Dr. John’s lingerie boutique (and sex toy emporium). I’ve got enough of their inventory already. I know you like going there and they recently drew your name in the raffle but enough is enough (and the lingerie you “won” in the raffle wouldn’t fit an anorexic 9 year old so you’ll probably never see me wearing it).

Hopefully you’ll find this list helpful David. I want your shopping experience to be a pleasant one.



Let’s Ask Tracey!

  • January 17, 2009

Dear Tracey,

I desperately want to have another baby but my husband feels that having only one child is perfect for our family. Now that our son is three, I can’t stop looking at pregnant women and wishing I was one of them. I’ve tried everything I can think of to convince him but he still says no. I don’t want to trick him into another baby but I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want.


One is not enough

Dear one is not enough,

I’m sorry to hear that you and your husband cannot agree on what is a very important decision between a husband and wife.

I don’t usually make such drastic recommendations but I can tell from your letter that you are 100% serious about reaching your goal of becoming a mom of two.

If you’re truly as desperate as you say, I suggest you offer your husband a no strings attached three way with you and the hot 20 year old teacher’s aide at your son’s pre-school, in exchange for another baby (if you can manage to be ovulating when it happens it could be win-win for everyone.)

Make sure you set careful parameters and verify that everyone involved knows this is a one time thing. You’ll also want to be very, very drunk. If you’re lucky, you’ll black out and forget the whole thing.

Just be careful if you go this route. I gave this advice to another mommy and even though she was not desperate enough for a three way, she now has a live in au pair from Sweden named Annika (who has the biggest rack you’ve ever seen). Luckily she is too busy breast feeding her newborn to care.

Good luck!

Dear Tracey,

I’m a stay at home mom tired of living within my means. All the other housewives drive nicer cars, have designer handbags, and spend their days shopping at the mall. I’m lucky if I can afford something from the sale rack at Old Navy.

I can’t even take comfort in the fact that I’m a good saver because our country’s current economic crisis has my IRA and stock portfolio in the shitter. What can I do to make myself feel a little better without spending money I don‘t have?


Unable to keep up with the Jones’

Dear unable to keep up with the Jones’,

Don’t sweat it. Just because your neighbors appear to have everything you covet does not necessarily mean it’s all paid for. They may be in debt up to their eyeballs and so cash poor they can’t buy a stick of gum unless the visa logo is prominently displayed at the cash register.

There is nothing wrong with Old Navy. Target also has some pretty nice stuff on the cheap. In the meantime, I suggest you find something to sell. One of my friends sold her husband’s golf clubs on EBay and bought several new outfits, some shoes, and a handbag at Dillard’s. She told him the clubs were stolen when he came home drunk and forgot to close the garage door.

Does your husband golf or participate in any hobbies that require expensive equipment? Go look.

Until then, keep it real and keep using cash.

Dear Tracey,

My neighbor is constantly talking about how brilliant her kids are. According to her, they are bilingual Einsteins who do logarithms in their spare time (Francois is 18 months and Siegfried is 4 so I know she is full of shit). Children possess many gifts and I’m tired of her acting like I.Q. is the only thing that matters.

It’s true our son still cannot pronounce all his consonants (he’s 10). He’s a sweet child, and a friend to all, but he’s not the brightest crayon in the box. We love him and want what’s best for him and I don’t appreciate my neighbor implying that he’s a lost cause or her suggestion that I home school him because “he can’t possibly be mainstreamed.”

I hate her and I need to know how I should handle this situation.


He’s not that stupid

Dear he’s not that stupid,

Your neighbor sounds like a real C. U. Next Tuesday. I’m sorry you are dealing with this situation. You sound like a very caring mom and I’ll try to help you.

The first thing you need to do is scour the elementary school parking lot for one of those “parents of an honor roll student” bumper stickers. Scrape it off and slap it on your car. Then start doing your son’s homework and see if you can proctor his tests at home. Make sure to show your neighbor his next report card.

Next, you need to uncover something your son is really good at. Can he play a musical instrument? If he’s in a successful rock band someday I bet he’ll pay you back for believing in him by buying you a mansion.

Is he good at sports? Dumb jocks have laughed all the way to the bank after being signed to the NBA or the NFL so if he shows some promise in this area, I think you should be very supportive. Since you’re already doing his homework he’ll have plenty of extra time to go to practice.

And remember, it doesn’t matter how smart your neighbor’s kids are because they’re going to get their asses handed to them on a daily basis because of their fucked up names. Everything will work out in the long run, I promise.

Tune in next week when I dole out more sage advice to people who haven’t figured out I am full of shit.

Don’t hate me because I’m so skinny

  • January 15, 2009

Today was my first Weight Watchers weigh in of 2009. I last weighed in on Christmas Eve day and even though I faithfully followed the program almost the entire month of December, I decided to take a hiatus from WW on December 27th when we shipped the offspring off to their grandparents for three days.

In the interest of not being totally inflexible and a huge buzz kill, I gave myself permission to skip counting points while the kids were gone because I knew Dave and I would be going out to dinner every night and I also knew we’d be drinking. Heavily. I tried to be careful about what I ate although I did have McDonald’s twice (necessary hangover remedy).

I got back on the program January 2nd and because I’m a lifetime member, and not required to weigh in weekly, I took advantage of this loophole and decided I’d weigh in only when I knew I’d undone any potential holiday damage.

As of today, I’ve lost another 2.8 lbs. since my last weigh in (10 lbs. total!) and I’ve gone down a whole pants size (I have a selection of jeans in about 4 different sizes so it was easy to grab a smaller pair – I call it going shopping in my closet. It doesn‘t require spending any money at the mall so Dave is a huge fan. If I keep this up I should be back in my 8th grade Gloria Vanderbilt’s in no time).

Because I allowed myself to indulge over the holidays, I’ve been alcohol free for almost two weeks now. Weight Watchers has something called the good health guidelines and one of them is to limit sugar and alcohol. I have no problem avoiding sugar but frankly alcohol is the only thing that makes dieting tolerable so I usually pretend I forgot about that part of the guideline. The wine I am so fond of takes a lot of my points and because I haven’t had any in forever, I actually had points left over this week.

I convinced Dave to watch the Sex and The City movie with me on pay per view Saturday night and even though a glass of red wine sounded really good and Dave had opened a bottle, I chose not to indulge. Clearly I drink when I WANT to and not because I HAVE to. However I started getting sick last weekend so I probably shouldn’t have let my antioxidant levels get so low. We’re having our neighbors over Saturday night so I should be able to get the levels back up where they should be.

I changed my weigh in day from Tuesday to Thursday so there would have been a different Weight Watchers leader had I stayed for the meeting. However, school is cancelled (again!) because of the weather and since both kids were with me, I had an excellent excuse for not staying for the meeting.

I’m curious to know who is in charge of television advertising at Weight Watchers. I saw a commercial the other day that stated Weight Watchers is NOT a diet (it totally is) and they have started showing this creepy little hunger monster that looks like a furry orange Sasquatch. It’s a tie in to their new momentum program which suggests filling foods to help you stay satisfied longer (wine is not on the filling foods list). I think the marketing people at Weight Watchers are all high and I want them to change their commercials immediately. Where the hell is the Duchess of York? I thought the commercials with her were very nice. I hope she hasn’t pulled a Kirstie Alley and exploded.

Anyway, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing. It hasn’t been too hard and I still got to enjoy the holidays. Once I get a good dose of antioxidants my cold will go away and I’ll get back to the gym. Something tells me there won’t be any leftover points this week.

Oops, we peed our pants

  • January 13, 2009

Dave and I have an almost uncanny ability to align ourselves with people who own lake houses (it’s a gift really). We’re lucky the people who own the homes are such great friends and that they keep inviting us for the weekend. We’ve had a lot of fun, and some very memorable experiences with them. The great adult diaper caper was one of those times.

In the summer of 2001, Tom, Amy, Dave, and, I joined Ed and Angie at their vacation home on Lake Panorama. Everyone brought their kids and we spent the day swimming and hanging out on the dock.

We had an idea we’d been tossing around for awhile, usually when we were full of beer. We thought wearing an adult diaper would be an ingenious solution to the problem of having to actually get off our asses and find a bathroom, especially if there was a really long line somewhere. For example, a diaper would have come in really handy at the Elton John concert because Tom and I wouldn’t have been stuck waiting for a port a potty when Elton sang Tom’s favorite song. I think the diaper idea really picked up some steam after that.

The weekend at Angie and Ed’s lake house must have seemed like an ideal time for the experiment because the guys brought home some adult diapers when they went on a beer run. We decided we’d put the kids to bed and see how much beer we, and our diapers, could hold.

I was the last one out on the deck because Matthew didn’t want to go to bed. By the time I got outside, everyone was already diapered and drinking. Adult diapers are held on by a belt that comes in the package. There was only one belt though, and 6 of us, so they improvised by using duct tape. They left the belt for me because they had some crazy idea that I am such a princess I wouldn’t agree to the duct tape (they were right).

The rules of the experiment stated you had to keep your diaper on until you peed. I drank a huge quantity of beer and felt like I was going to explode. But when it was time to pee, I couldn’t do it. Sure, I pee my pants all the time now but it’s totally on accident and usually caused by a wayward sneeze or a laughing attack when I’m plowed on wine. But during the experiment I could not make the pee pee come out for a really long time. By the time I finally relaxed my bladder enough to let it fly I had about a pony keg’s worth in there. My diaper completely and totally failed me. It weighed about 4 lbs. when I removed it and we took turns holding it with one hand and laughing about how heavy it was.

Well, we got that out of our system I guess. Let me share with you what we learned:

Adult diapers aren’t meant to hold very much. Adult diapers are not at all comfortable when they’re full. This experiment will never be repeated. When we‘re old every single one of us will NEED diapers because I believe in Karma.

We still talk about that weekend at the lake. It was one of many we enjoyed at Ed and Angie‘s house. This summer we’re planning on going to Tom and Amy’s lake house (see, all our friends have one). I think it’s time for a new experiment. I’ll let you know what we come up with.

All about my music

  • January 11, 2009

Santa brought me a new ipod for Christmas and I’ve been spending a lot of time walking around with my ear buds in (mostly to drown out the sound of the offspring fighting and saying my name repeatedly).

I used to have a shuffle that I really liked because when I worked out I could just clip it onto my shirt. Now that I have a nano I’m trying to get all my music organized into playlists. When I registered it on our computer it loaded our whole itunes library so I also need to delete all the Alvin and the Chipmunks, Hannah Montana, and everything from Kidz Bop.

Matthew and Dave have nanos and I gave my old shuffle to Lauren. We have so many ipods in this house we need a separate drawer to keep all the cords straight. Apparently I didn’t do a very good job of checking for explicit lyrics before I gave the shuffle to Lauren because she informed me that she listened to a Green Day song and heard the F word. That’s wonderful. I swear I have deleted that version of American Idiot from our itunes library 2 or 3 times and it somehow keeps coming back.

Coincidentally, the band Green Day came into my dad’s motorcycle dealership a couple years ago when they played in Des Moines. They bought a motorcycle to take on tour with them and Georgie did not tell me about it until after they left. And yes Georgie, I AM still kind of pissed about it. You should have called me immediately and then locked Billie Jo Armstrong and the rest of the band in dad’s office until I could get there. I would have asked them for a couple tickets to the show and maybe a backstage pass and then I could have had you or dad take my picture with the band. Trish has a picture of her and Scott Baio, Dave has a picture of him and Corey Hart and I’ve got nothing.

Trying to organize all this music is more time consuming than I thought. I don’t know whether to make playlists based on genre, decade, or personal preference.

My all time favorite songs are anything by the following artists: The Eagles, Elton John, Billy Joel, Chicago, John Denver, James Taylor, Jim Croce, Fleetwood Mac, and Paul McCartney.

There are a few songs you will NEVER find on my ipod because they suck.

Old Time Rock and Roll – Bob Seger (banned from our wedding reception)
Mony, Mony – all artists who have sung this song (also banned)
The Macarena, both song and stupid dance – I have no idea who is responsible for this piece of crap (banned!)

Here are some of my other favorites, in no particular order. I have no idea how to organize these into any kind of playlists. Please feel free to download some of these onto your own ipods. You’re welcome.

Let Me Be There – Olivia Newton John (song I always sing when I do karaoke)
Love Will Keep us Together – Captain and Tenille (song Janice and I always sing when we do karaoke. And yes we DO bring down the house)
Afternoon Delight – Starland Vocal Band (my favorite karaoke song Dave and I used to sing together back in the 90’s)
Tracey – The Cufflinks (natch)
Building a Mystery – Sara Mclachlan (mentions vampires!)
Africa – Toto (I have liked this song since high school. It reminds me of Stefani and I riding the bus to an away basketball game at North Polk)
Aquarius/Let the Sunshine in – The 5th Dimension (my zodiac sign)
Wicked Game – Chris Isaak
Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing – Chris Isaak
Behind Closed Doors – Charlie Rich (go to itunes and download this one for your ipod RIGHT NOW)
The Best of Times – Styx
Games People Play – Alan Parsons Project
Psychobabble – Alan Parsons Project (Stefani!)
Amie – Pure Prairie League (they spelled your name wrong Amy but you OWN this song)
Every Time I Think of You – The Babys
The Weight – The Band
If I had a $1,000,000 – Barenaked Ladies
Don’t Fear the Reaper – Blue Oyster Cult
Night Moves – Bob Seger
You’re So Vain – Carly Simon
Where You Lead – Carole King (from Tapestry – my mom had this album)
Kiss an Angel Good Morning – Charlie Pride (yes, really)
Southern Cross – Crosby, Stills, & Nash (one of my all time favorites)
Same Old Lang Syne – Dan Fogelberg
Please Come to Boston – David Loggins (love, love, love this song)
I’d Really Love To See You Tonight – England Dan and John Ford Coley
Criminal – Fiona Apple (Lisa!)
Nights in White Satin – The Moody Blues (but only in the winter, only if it’s cloudy, and preferably in my car)
Sundown – Gordon Lightfoot (who I always refer to as Gordon Heavyleg. Then I laugh)
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore – Lady Antebellum (I don’t listen to country music much anymore but I love this song. I heard them sing it on a country music awards show and had to download it)
Into The Night – Santana featuring Chad Kroeger
Hey, Hey What Can I Do – Led Zeppelin (this song is not about me, I swear)
The River – Toby Lightman (thanks Charlee!)
Country Boy – Glen Campbell (I don’t know how to explain why this is on my ipod but I like it)
Ridin’ the Storm Out – REO Speedwagon (especially if we’re having a blizzard and there’s wine available)
Dani California – Red Hot Chili Peppers
Rock ‘N Roll Jesus – Kid Rock
No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature – The Guess Who
Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon (This song reminds me of Noelle)

I have a lot more songs I have no idea how to organize. I think our library is up to 1,500 songs and we add to it all the time. I guess it’s just going to take some time before I figure it all out. If you have a song you really like, and you think it belongs on my ipod, please make a suggestion in the comments section. I’m always looking for a new download.

The Dating Game

  • January 9, 2009

Trish has recently joined and she’s finding the world of online dating very entertaining. She sends me all kinds of e-mails with responses from various men who have checked out her profile and sent her a message. I’m not sure how I got sucked into the clusterfuck that is her dating pool but since I have, I think I’m entitled to give her some advice whether she wants it or not.

From what I’ve been able to piece together from her dating correspondence, Trish already shattered one man’s heart by telling him that she is “only looking for metro sexual yuppies that ride Hondas and don’t need Viagra. And since only young men have the sex drive, muscles, and stamina she is looking for, old guys shouldn’t even bother. Even when SHE’S old she’s not going to date them. She also prefers clean-shaven men, not Kenny Rogers look alikes with glasses that tint when they walk outdoors.”

Ouch! Frankly I can’t imagine what prompted this exchange and I’m dying to know what Kenny Rogers said to Trish to make her respond so harshly. I don’t know how Kenny even made it through the matching process since they’re obviously NOT compatible. Since I know her password I decided to go to her profile and do a little investigating.

Trish has listed herself as a social drinker (maybe one or two drinks). Really Trish? What about that time you drank 5 glasses of Merlot at the bowling alley? Even though you soaked your shirt in OxyClean I can still see where you threw up on it. What about last Saturday when you and Kristi left a path of alcohol fueled destruction in my house? I’m sure I can come up with several more examples of your recent intoxication if I had more time.

Try to limit yourself to only 2 cocktails when you are on a date. Remember, no man wants to see your eyes unable to focus in the same direction while you slur and cackle your way through dinner (wait until you’re married and then it’s no biggie).

Trish listed in-line skating as one of her interests. Wait, you mean the in- line skates you asked me to sell in my last garage sale along with your crappy old stereo? What if you meet a nice man on and he wants to go in-line skating? Will you be driving to Scheels to buy a new pair?

She is listed as a daily smoker. Trish? Go to Walgreen’s on your way home from work and buy one of those nicotine patches. Slap it on, ditch the smokes, and febreze the hell out of everything. Voila! There will be a whole new batch of eligible men coming your way. (And to all my girlfriends who are still smoking? Please do this as well. I love you all and if anything happens to you I will have to drink wine all by myself).

There was a section where Trish could list her ideal man’s turn ons. Trish, please remove erotica. Men are visual creatures and can be aroused by an errant bra strap. All men love erotica so referring to it at all is completely redundant. It might also be why you’re getting winks and e-mails from every man on in the tri state area.

Your townhouse is not a sex portal and you don’t live in a red light district so remove everything from your profile that might inadvertently give men the idea that you are easy. No man should even be seeing the inside of your kitchen until after the third date or your bedroom until the fourth. I think you’ll attract a better caliber of men if you go for more goddess and less bad girl.

I know what you’re thinking and I’m not saying these men aren’t going to buy the cow if you give them the milk immediately. I’m proof that you can give some milk to one of them a tad early and still be with him 16 years later. But this is not about me Trish. It’s about you.

At least you’ve gone legit and joined I don’t know where you were finding those other x-rated suitors who texted you at all hours of the day and night. And P.S.? If you don’t change your text tone to something other than Daughtry’s It’s Not Over, I am going to drop your cell phone into a dirty toilet. It even annoys the offspring when you’re over here. Shit can that song and replace it with a nice little bell or chirp.

And according to an article on the MSN home page, if you want to attract a man you should wear red, not black. Dave was telling me just the other day that too many of my clothes are black and I should wear another color. Thank you Mr. Blackwell but I don’t usually take fashion advice from a man who owns a gray wife beater with the Tasmanian devil on the front. (But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea Trish, to buy a red sweater or something. You never know).

Anyway, I know you’re having a lot of fun right now but in time, you may actually find someone on that you really like. And I want him to know he is lucky to have found you too. There’s a hero out there for you Trish. Please hold out for him.

So you think you can dance?

  • January 7, 2009

I went to a Body Jam class at the Y this morning. I didn’t know what to expect since I haven’t taken an aerobics class since the early 90’s. My cardio workouts are of the solitary kind these days but since I had such a good experience in a group environment on Monday, I was looking forward to trying out the class. I was hoping it wasn’t going to be full of queer jazzercise moves like the grapevine and I wanted it to be challenging because I was taking the class instead of spending 45 minutes on the Stairmaster.

The instructor was great. She showed up in pink and gray camouflage pants with matching shoes and a sparkly pink military style hat. I liked her immediately. The room was packed so I figured she must be pretty popular.

The class consisted of hip-hop style combinations that we kept building on by adding more moves. I loved it. It was nothing like aerobics in the 90’s and the choreography was way cool. I could see myself doing some of the moves on a real dance floor with my girlfriends if I had enough wine in me.

And it was not easy. I always wear my heart rate monitor to track my calories burned because of Weight Watchers and I spent a lot of time in what I’m going to start referring to as the coronary zone. This class kicked my ass. I thought I was in pretty good shape cardiovascularly, especially when I work out on my NordicTrack but apparently I am not nearly as fit as I thought I was.

At one point my heart rate monitor showed 00 so I assumed I had died but since I was still booty poppin’ and shaking my groove thing all over the place I finally realized that the chest strap on my heart rate monitor had slipped down and wasn’t picking up my heartbeat.

The class finally ended 56 minutes after it started. I was totally wiped out and when I looked at my heart rate monitor to see how many calories I had burned it said 666. It was a devil of a workout.

My original plan was to check out Body Jam and then stay for Y-pump, which is the class I went to on Monday. I realized when Body Jam ended that taking another class was unnecessary and stupid.

Body Jam + Y-Pump= dead housewife.

But I’m definitely going back to this class on Wednesdays. I might take it on Saturday or Sunday at another Y location because I liked it so much. In time I’ll start my slow hostile takeover of one of the good front row spots. Then it really will feel like the 90’s again.

A family dinner, hibachi style

  • January 6, 2009

The other night Dave and I decided to go out for a family dinner. I wanted sushi but Dave and the offspring wanted chicken or steak so we decided to try a new restaurant that just opened by Jordan Creek Mall called Samurai Sushi and Hibachi since we figured they’d have something for everyone.

I was in the throes of some pretty lethal PMS (and had no business even going to a restaurant that served soy sauce) and I told Dave I hoped this wasn’t one of those places where you had to sit around a big table with people you don’t know because I wasn’t in the mood. Dave likes discussing my PMS about as much as he likes putting the Christmas lights on the roof so he told me if it was, I was just going to have to deal with it.

When we got to the restaurant the waitress led us to a table for 15 and started filling it up with people I’ve never seen in my life. Dave tried to leave a space between himself and a man I’ll call Joe Plumber but the waiter asked him to move over so they would be sitting right next to each other which is probably why Dave ordered sake immediately.

I swapped out my diet coke for a glass of wine when the waitress brought more people to the table. A woman I’ll call lady Fat Albert didn’t look very friendly and the girl sitting next to her had a stocking cap pulled down almost to her nose just like Fat Albert’s friend always did. And yes I’m going straight to hell for referring to someone as a female version of an obese cartoon character. Tell me something I don’t know. I’m sure she was equally impressed with the slightly bloated and bitchy pre-menstrual housewife sitting across from her and probably had PLENTY to say about me to her friends later.

The chef finally got the show started by lighting a bunch of cooking oil on fire right in front of us. I’m not sure I left the restaurant with all the eyebrows I came in with and I’m really glad Matthew no longer has a fire phobia because the chef was a crazy pyromaniac.

The first thing he started making after the smoke cleared was fried rice. Lauren is allergic to eggs so Dave tried to make the chef understand that he needed to leave her rice plain. A complete communication breakdown ensued that resulted in the chef taking all the eggs away while everyone at the table glared at us. Dave tried unsuccessfully to make the chef understand that he could use the eggs for everyone else’s rice but not Lauren’s. Dave then flagged down someone else and started explaining how the chef did not understand us so Dave tried to make the new person comprehend our situation and then translate. Our fellow diners did not look very happy with us and unless the employees at Samurai Sushi and Hibachi are really good at charades they probably didn’t know what the hell we were trying to tell them. Finally it looked like they understood but that didn’t stop me from checking my purse to make sure I had my epi-pen and some Benadryl handy.

The chef started cooking everything and then tried to get fancy by throwing food into everyone’s mouth. His aim was really shitty and food was bouncing off the offspring’s faces like crazy. I don’t think one single thing made it into their mouths. The chef over at Ohana Steak House is way better at that kind of thing.

Eventually the universal equalizer (liquor) kicked in and everyone started talking to each other. Lady Fat Albert was actually a single mother who worked for FEMA and was living here temporarily with her two children. They had relocated from Chicago and she told us she was very impressed with our school system and neighborhoods.

Joe Plumber was actually a single dad named James who worked as a parole officer and had adopted all 6 of his (special needs) kids on his own. One of them was with him at the table and even though he didn’t take his ear buds out the whole time we were eating he seemed like a nice kid.

Everyone complimented us on how well behaved our children were (I KNOW!) I don’t think we’re going to be exchanging Christmas cards next year or anything but it just goes to show that you should never judge people before you’ve had a chance to get to know them no matter how much fun it is.

Maybe the Japanese are onto something with their table arrangements and sake. They probably made fun of all of us once we left the restaurant. Actually they probably made fun of us while we were there since we couldn’t understand a word they were saying. But I think everyone felt a little better at the end of the meal then they did when it started.

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