tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84276645514873649082024-03-05T01:49:58.069-08:00Shit I Don't Tell Most PeopleIf this doesn't make sense, it's probably because one of us is drunk.A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-78927221060933650782013-03-26T15:18:00.001-07:002013-03-26T15:18:43.351-07:00Spinning in Circles<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was at an audition to teach spin at a new gym and take on my FIFTH part-time job and I met a really frickin' crazy woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realized after typing that last sentence that it's looking like (in a hushed tone), <i>I am the crazy person of whom I speak.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite evidence to the contrary, I'm not as crazy as I may sound, I swear. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me explain- See, I go to the gym every Thursday morning anyway, so why not get paid for it, right? I mean, the whole reason I decided to become a spin instructor was basically so I did <u style="font-style: italic;">not</u> have to arrive 30 minutes before the beginning of a spin class in order to reserve my bike. I could just show up, <i>moments</i> before class started and I'd get to pick the music for the whole class instead of listening to Van Halen or techno music for an entire hour. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So really, it makes perfect sense to become a spin instructor if you are a control freak with superior taste in music that is prone to tardiness, as I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Crap.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That actually makes me sound even crazier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was not what I was planning to write. This has taken a surprising turn, indeed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, anywhooooo....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few weeks ago I drove an hour across town to the gym where auditions were taking place, one of the worst neighborhoods in town. I scanned the parking lot and ran serpentine through the parking lot wondering if I had chosen the wrong colored bandanna for that neighborhood to mop up my sweat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sat down and completed in the smallest, weirdest application I'd ever seen. It was just for their, "records" since they already had my resume via the on-line application process so, whatever. It basically asked me to spell my name and give a phone number and emergency contact in case I died during class. I figured there was an excellent chance of getting nailed in a drive-by shooting in the parking lot because of my blue bandanna so I used my best handwriting on that part.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm guessing most of you are not spin instructors because 1) most people are not 2) if you were, you would too narcissistic to read a blog that was not about yourself, and so I'm also guessing you've never been to a spin instructor audition so allow me to tell you what usually happens:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You arrive at the assigned time for your audition and then stand around for about 40 minutes while the girl behind the desk tries to locate gym manager</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You meet the other 19 instructors that you are competing against for the one job you all applied for on Craigslist</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You act nice to your competition but secretly you hope they all suck, have seizures or pull a hamstring during their audition</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You try to guess the ages and the number of cosmetic procedures performed on the other instructor-wannabe's. You tell yourself you look waaaay better than at least one of them (it will not matter to you that she is in her 70's and has a lazy eye)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are eventually lead to the cycle room where each applicant has about 3 minutes to instruct a workout. The group consists of the gym manager and the other applicants that you just spent 40 minutes sizing up, through a song of your choice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You leave having no idea if you got the job or why you thought a French braid and camouflage bandanna was a good choice for your "look"</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So after handing my abbreviated application back to the girl at the desk, she lead me to the workout room that looked like any other cycle room except for two things:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was not a room full of others waiting to audition. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was not even a room full of bikes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was just two ladies, dressed in business suits and sitting at a small table that was set directly in front of one spin bike. Uh-oh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Linda was in her mid-forties and used to be a spin instructor. Bev was in her mid-fifties but she didn't say what her previous experience was. I had a feeling Bev was the boss as she did most of the talking. I also got the feeling that the last time Bev saw a gym was as she walked passed it on her way to Chico's clothing boutique.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both ladies were all smiles to me as they did their best to make me feel comfortable. They asked me all sorts of questions about my past life experience, my husband and my kids. They did not ask me about my workout routine or my instructor experience. They told me that they were only in town for the auditions- Linda was from a neighboring state, while Bev came from across the country. I realized that they were Big Wigs as they told me how the national chain of gyms they worked for had plans to build 18 more warehouse-sized gyms in the city where I live. Gulp.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then they asked me to "teach" a class.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, a lot of instructing is sort of like acting, in that you have to act like one or more of the following:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you are </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>not working</u> as hard as you actually are because you can't look like you're out of shape </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you are </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">working <u>harder</u> than you actually are because you're super tired or on your period or you already worked out that day and (or) you just feel like phoning-it-in that day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3) you have NOT heard that song by Pink a bazillion times already this week</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...however, I'd never had to <i>act</i> like I was talking to a room full of people before this. But what the hell- I'm crazy, right? I figured they'd either think I was a nut and rip up my resume or they'd realize I could fake my way through anything and hire me. So I demonstrated how to set up a bike in front of a room full of new-to-spin gym members and then "taught" an entire four minute routine to these same, imaginary people. I threw out phrases like, "You got it!", "Don't slow down!" and "Just give me 10 more seconds!" as if I had a twenty, sweaty ladies in front of me working their asses off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ladies cheered for me and held direct eye contact with me as they sat at their little cafe table a few feet from me. It was a strange and surreal experience. I felt naked and wondered if this is how it would feel to go pro as a stripper for the first time. And they cheered for me as I dismounted the bike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bev began by congratulating me on my attitude, my enthusiasm and my choice of music and then she said she wanted to give me a little piece of advice...At this point, I think I knew she was going to say something <i>off</i>- but it still sort of threw me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She said, "When you're up there- on the bike. Try to give <u>more</u>. I mean, you're attitude is wonderful, and you're very motivating...just try to give...<i>"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stood there and waited as she completed the sentence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"More...</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Um. Ok.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More what?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bev continued and this time she gestured with her hands, palms turned upward as if she was kneading imaginary bread in mid-air, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I mean, you're up there. And you have the attention of the entire class. And they're watching you. And you're showing them how to do it. Just give them...</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">more....</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">" she said as she looked beyond my shoulder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More <u>what</u>?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who's on first?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I get it. I'm naturally very dry and monotone. I can fix that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So, I need to be more enthusiastic?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh no! Your enthusiasm is great!", she said with a smile, "I just want...<i>mooore</i>...", she trailed off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More <b>what</b>?!??!?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "Do you know what I mean?" she asked, looking me straight in the eye. Finally, an opportunity for some clarity on what, exactly, she wanted more of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes. I know exactly what you mean", I said, acting once again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And Bev smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And she offered me the job that day.</span><br />
<br /></div>
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-87647517987866525032013-03-05T15:13:00.002-08:002013-03-05T15:13:44.550-08:00They're Just Like A-Holes<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a while since I've done this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First off, I am, by nature, a flake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second off, fuck off, I've got shit to do!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alright.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's start again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll start the next paragraph saying something that I've said way too many times lately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm sorry if I was rude to you. I'm a bit crabby today. I've been full of excuses lately, it seems.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's just say I've been busy. Too busy to write. Or do anything besides go to the gym and then (maybe) do laundry* and take nap after lunch. So yes, I'm sleeping instead of blogging while my kids are napping and/or coming out of their rooms every 17 minutes to ask, "Is naptime over yet??"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I work 2-3 days a week as a high school teacher and I teach spin class at two different gyms, 2-4 times a week. I also moonlight as veterinary technician, assisting a veterinarian in exotic animal surgeries (think rabbit rumenectomy** or an iguana inguinal hernia repair) on weekends occasionally. There's also the odd, freelance (paying!!) writing gig for a veterinary technician magazine. And then there's the other veterinarian that I work for every now and again when someone calls in sick or gets married.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But enough about me, let's talk about crazy people. Not sadly crazy, like off-their-meds-and-he's-running-around-London-thinking-he's-Captain-Cooke kind of crazy (yes, I really know someone that did that). Not dangerous crazy either. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just harmless, Wow-I-can't-believe-that-someone-like-you-exists-in-real-life crazy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How 'bout you sit and think on that one, tell me about your 'Enkounter with Krazy' story and I'll tell you about mine from a couple weeks ago?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cool.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(*psst...laundry has never actually gotten done after lunch time)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(**psst...there's really no such thing as a rabbit rumenectomy but if there was, I would totally assist in that surgery because it would be awesome!)</span><br />
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-72085320195779533832013-02-07T13:59:00.000-08:002013-02-07T14:29:31.092-08:00"No Thank You" Notes <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you don't have kids, I'm certain that you have heard about them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unless you are like my sister-in-law who claims she has never seen a realty show. Not once. Not ever. She only begrudgingly admits that she knows of their existence at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But you are not her and you will admit that you have listened countless times as your Friends Up-bringing Kids With Inexplicable Tenacity (or FUK-WITS, as I prefer to call us), tell you over and over, "nobody ever told me about.......", before becoming a parent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example, the most famous one, of course, is that the expectant mother will poop in the delivery room when she is in labor. "They" say that you just don't care about pooping on the floor at that point because either, "You're just too happy because you are <i>now a mother!" </i>(barf) or more realistically, you really don't care because you just want that thing OUT by that point. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At any rate, yes, I'm a parent and there are things that nobody told us before we had kids because they wanted to have a good laugh at our expense, once we became FUK-WITS, they wanted their kids to have at least a few friends of a similar age with cool parents or more likely, they just forgot because they are tired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fuckin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tired*.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So after doing this parent thing for five years now, a few weeks ago I discovered something new and nearly as awful as pooping in front of a room full of strangers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid's birthday parties.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I won't go into great detail because (see * above) but I will summarize by sharing with you the Thank You notes I will <i>NOT</i> be sending out this year, a few weeks after The Not-So-Little One's fifth birthday party.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Dear XXX,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you sooo much for asking if it was "OK" to bring the rest of your kids and husband to my five-year old's birthday party! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I put <b>your daughter's name only</b> on the invitation, you were unable to take the not-so-subtle hint that this was a party for FIVE YEAR OLDS. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Far be it from me to exclude your two teenagers, your one year old baby and your husband who has never spoken a word to me! Please let us pay for all of them to eat pizza, cake and have game tokens in exchange for a $9 gift that my kid will likely break or forget about by the end of the weekend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're so glad you could ALL make it- oh wait- that's right, you did not make the party after all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At least you were kind enough to RSVP via text message telling me (three days before the party) that all SIX of you may <i>or may not </i>make it to the party.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hope you can (or cannot) make it (or not) again next year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Dear Grandma,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you for showing up a half hour late and half drunk. We are all very grateful </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that you live close enough to see your grandkids often and that </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you are still in reasonably good health- I mean, successfully navigating a Chuckee Cheese parking lot while half-tanked just proves how good your fine motor skills still are!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Again, we are lucky to have you here and even luckier that your grandchild still thinks that gifts purchased from Walgreens are <u>the shit</u>! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Funny, me and the Tall Guy think they <b>are</b> shit! Ha, ha!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, Your Daughter </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Dear Old Friend from High School that Has No Kids But Thinks She Knows Everything About Them Anyway,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you for getting my kid that whore-y looking doll that is totally inappropriate for a girl her age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, wait, inappropriate for <i>any</i> girl of <i>any</i> age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her little arched back, her pouty lips, her sky-high legs and micro-mini skirt all scream, "Five Year Old Girl Toy", I know, but do you really think a teeny, pink, plastic flask is appropriate for a little girl that is genetically predispositioned to have substance abuse and thrill-seeking issues in her future? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looking forward to the Hello Kitty Thong you'll undoubtedly bring next year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Dear Old Friend That I Used To Work With That Is No Longer a Part of 'The Gang' Because</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your Husband Was Fired By One of My Kid's Friend's Mom, Who Is Also At The Party,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You did not receive an invitation to attend my kid's fifth birthday party.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You're welcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, Sue"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-35674242627540895832013-01-13T16:01:00.001-08:002013-01-13T16:01:56.374-08:00Is That Soo Wrong?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More often than I'd like to admit, I find my internal monologue asking myself, "Is that so wrong?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually, no, that's not entirely accurate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Truth be told, it's with more frequency lately my little voice asks, "Is that <i>soo</i> wrong?!?", in an almost incredulous, how-dare-you-ask-that-of-me (but secretly knows I'm guilty of something) kind of voice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a list of what still has me wondering, is that soo wrong?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Do your best not to judge, please)</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Considering not letting my soon-to-be-five-year-old (the Bigger Kid of my two) to go to the birthday party of a classmate the<u> day before</u> her own party because the other kid's party sounds waaaay cooler than the one we have planned for our kid</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In response to a text message sent by my 70 year old mom to tell me she cannot talk due to a case of laryngitis, I promptly reply, "It's as if all of my dreams have finally come true!" And no, I did not include an emoticon happy face at the end of my message :(</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Using the cheap pre-grated cheddar cheese for my kids while saving the expensive, imported stuff for me and the Tall Guy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretending I'm asleep when one or more children enter my room before seven am on the weekend and letting Tall Guy get up with them</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not wanting to invite my daycare provider's nice kid to Bigger Kid's birthday party because it might mean SIX extra mouths to stuff pizza, cake and ice cream into if she decides to bring her husband and all FOUR of her kids</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not wanting to invite certain adult friends to BBQs at our house because I'm afraid their eight year old son may torture my dog or light the house on fire if left unattended </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For years, deliberately withholding information about Facebook (specifically, that Facebook exists) from my mother because I don't want to be "friends" with her on it. Even though I'm "friends" with all six of her brothers and sisters </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jokingly asking the Bigger Kid if she would like peanut-butter on toast for breakfast every morning even though she is highly allergic and would likely need emergency medical treatment if even one bite was taken*</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling guilty when Tall Guy offers to let me go overseas for a friend's wedding without him (because we cannot afford airfare for all four of us) but accepting his offer anyway</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually getting mom on Facebook but only after explaining that no, I will not be her "friend" because of the Slippery Slope it would create for me and the possibility of having to "friend" my mother in law**</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is not a complete list and it's probably not the worst of things I've said, done or thought today, much less this week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This may have to be a regular thing, though, I think it may be somewhat therapeutic, for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What have you done lately that has made you ask yourself, is that sooo wrong?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*The Bigger Kid always laughs and says, no to the peanut butter on toast</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">**The Facebook thing about my mother-in-law is true. It really is a slippery slope</span></div>
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A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-87522981094031084502012-12-27T15:39:00.001-08:002012-12-27T15:39:47.750-08:00Naked Christmas Party<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like there's a common theme developing on Shit I Don't Tell Most People.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beyond the obvious theme -that this <i>really is</i> shit I don't tell in polite company (polite 'company' excludes most of my friends, of course), there is another theme that keeps popping up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I think that theme is nudity. Or better yet, nakedness. Yes, that's it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nudity is very clinical. Something you need to wear while at your annual girl-parts exam or half of what you forced to be during childbirth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nakedness, on the other hand, is dirty. Skeevy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Often it's sexy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Often it is not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And these are the times I seem to like to talk about the most. I cannot begin to imagine why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But anyway, this all brings me to the story of: How Our Annual Christmas Party Became a Naked Christmas Party. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(*I would now like the reader to imagine the voice of the Burl Ive's pedophilic-looking snowman from the old, stop-motion-animated, Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer television special)</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6EMB65Hehvl9iiW6ndB_hsRIs3FMqv7rRBGdb4BKCp9BtH6nKm1XA7Nb3jAKWvc-rCYUJx8fPANmdakWvd0luRzKJeJiQ6ONIaBagW6KInBjhKPb_Fmr-tyz-l_ALmWsMb1_gf_R4k8/s1600/burl+ives+snowman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6EMB65Hehvl9iiW6ndB_hsRIs3FMqv7rRBGdb4BKCp9BtH6nKm1XA7Nb3jAKWvc-rCYUJx8fPANmdakWvd0luRzKJeJiQ6ONIaBagW6KInBjhKPb_Fmr-tyz-l_ALmWsMb1_gf_R4k8/s1600/burl+ives+snowman.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Founder of FKC</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It began like any other Christmas party, many, many years ago....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waay too much cake, candy, home-made hummus that tastes like watered-down cardboard and a "fun" gift exchange (the kind where you all take numbers then have the choice of opening a gift or stealing a gift that has already been opened by someone else) that went on for hours. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No joke. <i>Hours</i>. Because the thing was, it was not a White Elephant gift exchange- for some reason, most of us at the party actually <i>prided</i> ourselves on bringing a cool gift. Everyone there actually wanted to have that gift that nobody could live without. The gift that kept getting stolen again and again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But even though most of us scored cool gifts, the constant gift-swiping made the gift exchange go on too long and ultimately kill everyone's buzz.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So new rules were in order. One year the Tall Guy and I hosted the party and we made a list of rules that included that any coveted gift could only be stolen a total of three times. This helped tremendously but still, by this time, we'd been getting together with the same group of friends for maybe five years, and the party was getting a bit stale. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was around 2001 and most of the couples in my group of friends had small kids as well as most of their irrational lifestyle choices, behaviors and drug use were well behind them. My theory is that within the boundaries of the hum-drum life of raising kids and paying mortgages, getting to bed early and taking our vitamins.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all were well and truly bored with our happy, drama-free lives and so that's when things took an unexpected turn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The annual Xmas Party became the XXX-Mas Party when new rules were created in order to prevent the gift exchange from going on too long. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If someone tried to steal your gift, you could effectively "block" that steal by removing an article of clothing. And if the person that tried to steal the gift to begin with, </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">still </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">wanted the gift in question, he or she could take off a piece of their clothing in order to 'block' the initial 'block'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And thus, the 'Strip-Off' was born.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first person naked would get to keep the gift.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Tall Guy and I missed the first time the nakedness happened because we happened to be living overseas at the time. However, soon after the new year we were blessed with blurred photographic evidence that arrived in a package at our apartment in South Korea. We had sent a gift package to be given away at the party with various Korean nicknaks, including a small, purple poloroid camera. Some of the 1 inch x 1 1/2 inch photos taken that night were included in the package (that also contained some other stuff that I've completely forgotten about). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Several pictures showed one of numerous different (male) party-goers, each about to collapse in laughter, while wearing a sock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>One</i> sock.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not on his foot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So it began twelve years ago as a few guys stripping down to one sock or in later years, proudly showing off a <a href="http://narcissistsblog.com/2012/04/21/things-i-can-do-without-mangina/">'Man-gina'</a> and has since evolved (de-volved??) to either gender stripping down to nothing at all. No more socks for the guys or standing coyly behind a towel used as a shield for some of the women. The "NO PHOTOS!!!" rule has turned into a "NO POSTING YOUR PHOTOS ON FACEBOOK" rule that everybody follows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It now known as The Naked Christmas party. Or the XXXmas Party, take your pick. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although I'm pretty modest, I think the premise and each and every Strip-Off is absolutely hilarious. I have tried to explain this to my non-Naked friends but they don't get it. And they usually look at me kinda funny. And when I think about it- I don't really get it either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd like to say it's because it's a super-sexy turn-on, but it's not. Much of the time it's a hairy, forty-year old dude that is dropping trou'. And if you were unlucky enough to be sitting next to him before the Strip-Off began, there's an excellent chance you will have the worst seat in the house when that hairy guy bends down, pushing his boxers to his ankles. Please use your imagination to picture your view...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And even the Strip-Off's that may begin as sexy, usually wind up being silly- like the time a couple guys both got naked at the exact same moment. The 'Judge' (the party hostess, who has never taken off even a scarf) decided that a foot race in sub-freezing temperatures would be needed to determine the true winner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A naked foot race.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Around to the end of the block and back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or the year that </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">one of the ladies had just gotten fake boobs installed and was eager to show them off. The men at the party were more than happy to enjoy, if not totally promote each and every possible Strip-Off opportunity by stealing gifts that they didn't even want (like a fondue set or nice serving dishes). It wasn't long before New Boobs was naked and then decided to goofily demonstrate a Shake Weight while topless. It is a vision that is now burned into my memory as it was probably more funny than sexy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now that Christmas is done and The Naked Christmas Party is over for another year, I am relieved once again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I have eleven months to find a strip-worthy gift and worry a little bit less about cellulite or having matching bra and panties clean and folded in my dresser. I will not deny or confirm whether or not I've ever won a strip off, but I will say that I do own a very nice, over-sized matching tea cup set.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-4287628118530470182012-11-29T13:31:00.002-08:002012-12-17T13:41:41.929-08:00Shit Mouth<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some random and surprising shit that has wound up in my mouth since becoming a parent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Humble Pie</u></b>- For all the times I vowed that I wouldn't let parenthood change me. Though some things (that perhaps should have) have not changed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still call people (including my children), "Dude" more often than anyone my age should. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still make inappropriate jokes whenever possible and laugh at them myself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still think Doc Martens and Levi's are cool- even if they're not (please don't tell me if they're not). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can now stand to be around children and not be driven totally crazy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the biggest change- I have begun to like the color pink and I don't become enraged when I think about princesses.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>Shit</b></u>- Or lack there of, actually...Since becoming a parent and leaving my job at the city zoo, I have <u>not once</u> gotten the poop or pee of undomesticated animals in my mouth. Poop and pee from my undomesticated children </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">on</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> me? Oh yeah, all the time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Neither have I been bitten by a lemur, jumped on by a teenage squirrel monkey, scratched by a toucan or farted on by a Watusi cow. Bitten, jumped, scratched and farted on by the two-legged undomesticated ones in my house? All. The. Time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Ass of Dog</u></b>- The Overloving Staffy, Matilda needs to be a part of every magical parenting moment that occurs in the house. Everyday the dog is with me or Tall Guy while reading the kids stories at bed time, putting kids in time-out or just playing with the tow-legged undomesticated ones. Once while laying on the floor on my back, my two-year old Cave Girl was riding up and down on my legs. It was at this point that the dog decided she needed to be involved and that she must sit on my face. Yes, I ate dog ass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>400 Bags of Potato Chips</b></u>- I'd like to blame this on hormones but it's probably much more complicated than that. I have become obsessed with the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">salty goodness of c</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">heap potato chips and could easily put away an entire bag every night (though I always force myself to stop at a half bag). Now you know why I (must) go to the gym 5 times a week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>Countless gallons of Costco brand vodka</b></u>- Many of us go through a 'drinking phase' after turning 21. Unlike most non-alcoholics, I have gone through countless 'drinking phases'. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the Tall Guy and I moved to Asia to teach English when we were in our late 20s we both went through another drinking phase that lasted nearly a year. Upon return to the U.S. I found that late-night drinking got in the way of my early morning runs so it was an easy choice to quit (running. Ha! Kidding! I totally didn't drink for a few years there).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now in my forties with little opportunity or energy or money to go out on the town, I'm going through my third drinking phase. At least I'm hoping it's just a phase...Since discovering that I am basically immune to hang-overs as long as I stick to a medium quality, clear booze, I am still able to run, swim or bike without issue the next day. In fact, in the process of starting a Runing Mom's Drinking Club right now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're calling it Run-DMC- they're still cool, right? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't tell me if they're not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Currently accepting applications to participate in Run-DMC. Send a note listing of your favorite drink, best mile time and the worst thing you've ever had in your mouth. Tape this list on a 1.75 liter bottle of Costco brand vodka and leave it on my doorstep and I will get in touch with you as soon as possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This post has been brought to you by the letters T and T. They stand for Theme Thursday. Click on the button thingy and check out what a small group of wacky women like to have in their mouths....</span></div>
A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-77354490512674479342012-11-26T20:58:00.004-08:002012-11-27T19:52:40.369-08:00Shit I've Lied to My Four Year About Old This Week<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Regarding songs we listen to while driving to Christ is Our Lord Preschool:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-fA-gBCkj0"><b>"Locked Out of Heaven" by Bruno Mars</b></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Mom, what is he saying?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>Uh, he's saying he feels really sad when the girl is not there anymore. Like if I locked you out of your toy room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Yeah, but what's he <i>saaying</i>? (song playing at the part where Bruno Mars sings, "'Cause your sex takes me to paradise.."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>??</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Mooom??</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Um, he's saying that her text takes him to paradise because she sends him really nice text messages.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn: </b>(now singing) 'Cause your text takes me to paradise, 'cause your text takes me to paradise!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Hey, Firstborn? Uh, let's not sing this song at school, ok? Or at Grandma's house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk41Gbjljfo"><b>"Dear God" by XTC</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn: </b>Mom? What's this song about?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>Uh, this guy is talking to God. Like praying.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn: </b>Why is he talking to God? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Well, some people do that</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Why does he say he doesn't believe in God?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>Um, well, see, some people don't believe in God, see. In fact, some people believe in all different kinds of Gods. Or no God at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> (laughing) That's silly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Well...(staring to sweat a little) not to <i>some</i> people...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn: </b>Yes there is. I <i>knoow</i> there's such thing as God. You believe in God, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b>Um....Well, to be honest, I'm not totally convinced.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn</b>: Yes there is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Yeah, I'm not totally sure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Well, I believe in Him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> That's fine, honey. Everybody has a different way of thinking about a lot of different things in this world and that's ok.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> (not really interested in conversation at this point) Yeah, ok.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey, Firstborn? Uh, let's not talk about this at preschool, ok? Or at Grandma's house, either.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSnkWzZ7ZAA"><b>"Whistle" by Flo Rida</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Mom? What's this song about?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> Um, it's about a guy and his whistle, I think.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> What's he saying?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> I guess he is, uh, telling his friend how to, uh, use it, I guess.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Firstborn:</b> Oh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Me: </b></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey, Firstborn? This is one of those songs that we don't sing at school, ok? Or at Grandma's house. And maybe let's not tell Dad about it either, ok?</span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-51541841806077834102012-11-17T18:56:00.001-08:002012-11-17T19:42:09.237-08:00Everybody's Smiling, Sunshine Day!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, um, wow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Ms. Clever and Ms. Monkey</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">, as of yesterday morning I was awarded the Sunshine Award by TWO awesome bloggers, at <a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/">Something Clever 2.0</a> and <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/">Three Monkeys and a Martini</a>.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumZWeQw0bJ1DtZppHK1vm0RfyzYzce2XKABhy2WNkprZGkrLdHjrjcHj2Pwh-AvSwgjtDCdTQL3ttdtWWL2RTOAoYMLnH0Xq0SC6k-ZlBtW75SOrzTmpldcb6jBeKMnwBxRuGiUuHV58/s1600/SunshineAward.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumZWeQw0bJ1DtZppHK1vm0RfyzYzce2XKABhy2WNkprZGkrLdHjrjcHj2Pwh-AvSwgjtDCdTQL3ttdtWWL2RTOAoYMLnH0Xq0SC6k-ZlBtW75SOrzTmpldcb6jBeKMnwBxRuGiUuHV58/s1600/SunshineAward.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">The Sunshine Award is passed down from blogger to blogger like a chain letter or pyramid scheme except nobody dies if it doesn't get passed (Yaaay!) or makes a shitload of money if it does (Booo!). Recipients of this prestigious award all posses that "drop of golden sun"-like attitude towards life. Clearly, I have received the nominations in error. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">However, I am still honored because,two cool bloggers think I'm cute. And yet, really- Me? Sunshine? Clearly you both must still be buzzed from whatever you drank/popped last night. Or conversely, both Clever and Monkey have gone off their meds. Maybe a combination of all three.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Anyhow, as usual, along with great honor comes great responsibility. And as honored recipient, I am required to answer some questions before I pass the award along to some other worthy bloggers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Follow along, as I am now tasked with answering some not-so-sunshiney questions that I found somewhat disturbing. As usual, reader discretion is advised.</span><br />
<br />
<u>Name</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Girl Named Sue</span><br />
<br />
<u>Day Telephone</u> 867-530 niiiiiiiiyyyne<br />
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<u>Age at first menstruation</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About 27 years earlier than it should have been</span><br />
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<u>What treatment do you use for cramps?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I complain more than usual while Tall Guy feigns sympathy and pretends he has not heard it every 28 days for the past 15 years</span><br />
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<u>Any PMS symptoms? If so, describe:</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes. My moods become <u>very </u>erratic and I lose my patience easily with kids, dog and husband. I've been told </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it's difficult to recognize the difference between this particular time of the month and other time of the month with me</span><br />
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<u>Ever Pregnant?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With emotion? All the time, when I am knocked up. Or watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0478311/">Knocked Up</a> while being knocked up</span><br />
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<u>Any breast problems?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Definitely. The problem is they are a little floopier than I'd like</span><br />
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<u>Do you examine your breasts regularly?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes, once I put on a jog bra because then they are super sweet</span><br />
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<u>Have you had sex with (Check all that apply) Men Women</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are men and women <b>applying</b> to <i>have sex with me</i>? Is this a part of the award too?? I am loving this award!</span><br />
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<u>If you use contraception, what form(s) do you use?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I find</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that not having sex works great at keeping my uterus free of babies</span><br />
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<u>Do you wish to continue with this method?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No. I like having sex. In fact I love having sex- especially with my husband- Do you have a pill that will clean my house, take care of my kids and make me well rested? I think they call it a Spanish Fly or something. Please get back to me on that. Stat!</span><br />
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<u>Are you taking any medications?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No. And yes, the medical community is still scratching their heads in wonderment about this</span><br />
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<u>Do you smoke?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a few drinks I think I am smoking hot. Does that count? I also think I am 27</span><br />
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<u>How much alcohol do you drink each week?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will take the fifth on that. A fifth of Costco brand vodka, thank you very much. Oh, weekly? About a case of that, actually</span><br />
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<u>Have you taken “recreational” drugs?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Define "recreational". No, I did not go camping while on drugs. I did go to Disneyland on LSD in college once, does that count?</span><br />
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<u>If yes, which ones?</u> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How 'bout we make this easier and I just tell you what I <i>haven't </i>used</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh shit, you guys-</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Turns out the questions above are from the form I have to fill out before my OB-GYN exam next month. My bad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, this makes sense now, here's a complete list of the real questions I was supposed to answer but am now <i>way</i> too tired to do so:</span><br />
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">1. What is your favorite Christmas/festive movie?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">2. What is your favorite flower?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">3. What is your favorite non-alcoholic beverage?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">4. What is your passion?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">5. What is your favorite time of year?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">6. What is your favorite time of day?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">7. What is your favorite physical activity?</span></h4>
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<h4 style="background-color: white; color: #666666; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">8. What is your favorite vacation?</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">And although I totally screwed up the question thing, I will not eff-up handing off The Sunshine Award to five other awesome bloggers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are the funny-as-shit blogs that are the latest recipients of this prestigious flower-sticker- Sunshine Award! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You made me (and lots of other lost souls) smile today!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://jackieohhhh.blogspot.com/">Jackie-Ohhhh</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://www.lonnacottrell.com/">The Artist Formerly Known as Lanna Cottrell</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://potentiallycrapblog.blogspot.com/">Potentially Crap Blog</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://gomerrily.blogspot.com/p/meet-mary.html">Go Merrily!</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://lifeonthesonnyside.blogspot.com/">Life on the SONny Side</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember, bloggers, if you chose to accept the award, just pass it along to five other bloggers and don't forget to post your complete gynecological history on an upcoming blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OR you can answer the <b>real questions</b> listed above just like a normal person, not in need of prescription drugs. Or you can pretend, like the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGXx56WqqJw&feature=fvst">French knights in reference to the holy grail</a> sought by King Arthur (in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071853/">Monty Python's Holy Grail</a>) that you "already have one" and totally ignore this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Either way, have a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaCCG7QkM_c">Sunshine(y) Day</a> !</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><br />
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-22323473180626943952012-11-15T09:19:00.002-08:002012-11-15T13:34:47.123-08:00Dear Kids, There's Something Important You Need to Know<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is one thing I would like my beautiful kids to know is that no matter what happens in this world, at the end of the day, my couch is really, really important to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first few couches I lived with after moving out of my Dad's house after college were hand-me-downs or purchased second hand. Please understand that this new, stain-free couch has a special, stain-free place in my heart. I don't expect you to understand this but I expect that you try to help me keep my sanity by adhering to these simple guidelines in regards to my couch and it's blanket-y, pillow-y and ottoman-y accessories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1) Do not jump on The Couch. Your feet, socks and butt are very stinky and I don't want The Couch to smell like any of them. Plus, the sand collected at the playground flies out of you underpants and socks like a lacerated pinata and into the cushions. Oh, and you might hurt yourself</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2) Do not, eat or drink on The Couch. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although we had the forethought to purchase a couch in the darkest shade of brown possible in order to hide the inevitable spills that would occur, I would love it if The Couch NEVER resembles the back seat of my car</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3) Do not poo or pee on The Couch. Although a biological spill can be cleaned, it can never be forgotten. And that's part of why I insisted on getting The Couch so soon after having you, my Firstborn. Most people would know better than to get a new couch right after having a baby. Most people didn't have a tripple-accident while using a double-breast pump on their old couch. Use your imagination for an explanation of that one</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4) Do not use Couch Blankets to dress up the dog like Lawrence of Arabia. The dog likes to roll in the dirt and eat tortoise poop in the backyard. I would prefer that The Couch does not wind up smelling as gross as the dog often does</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpKVwn-_Yi7qLpsd14Ro716Qlh5XY2a_-E2UZsXQtYAtlGzibQK8vx34SUc33wwlJv5UjjJ7HTzf4S8bQrfU41sU5hUEz5vOrpG7DCRzM82t2_KNbvJkN7apxjjNVYrdfUCPdiH5yRWo/s1600/Matilda+of+Arabia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpKVwn-_Yi7qLpsd14Ro716Qlh5XY2a_-E2UZsXQtYAtlGzibQK8vx34SUc33wwlJv5UjjJ7HTzf4S8bQrfU41sU5hUEz5vOrpG7DCRzM82t2_KNbvJkN7apxjjNVYrdfUCPdiH5yRWo/s1600/Matilda+of+Arabia.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is there a kid-free family that would like to adopt me?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5) Do cuddle up with Mom or Dad on The Couch if you're not feeling well and need to sit up all night long because you are too sick to sleep in bed. Also know that Couch Rules 1-3 are null and void during these times. Eating, drinking, pooping, peeing and dressing up the dog with blankets are all perfectly acceptable if you don't feel so good. At these times we'll let you do whatever makes you feel better. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Except jump on the couch. Standing firm on that one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> *********</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't forget to check out the other posts about what some other bloggers think is important stuff to teach their kids. Click on the Theme Thursday button or go check out <a href="http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/">http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/</a> if you want to learn more about us a-holes!</span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-77645553440962617662012-11-13T15:16:00.000-08:002012-11-13T18:42:29.229-08:0041 is the New 14<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 1: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How My Girls's Weekend Away turned me into a 14 year old boy</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I giggled at and provided sex, fart and poop jokes during a six hour drive across the desert</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Road Trip Bestie </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">giggled at and provided sex, fart and poop jokes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No vegetables were eaten</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ate fast food exclusively and wiped my mouth with my sleeve</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thought it was funny when a drunk buddy of mine placed his scrotum onto the the phone of a second drunken buddy when the phone was left unattended</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Made a pact with Bestie that some secrets are best kept between friends</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 2: How Day Two turned me into a 22 year old man</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Together, Bestie and I:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drank more Skyy vodka and Captain Morgan's than water</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ate only potato chips and pizza</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stayed up until 4 am</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Laughed and lauged with old friends about nothing very funny at all</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't remember stumbling to bed or passing out on couch</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did not suffer from a hang over next morning</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 3: How I know for certain that I still really am, a 41 year old mom</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never forgot to take multi-vitamin, Calcium and Glucosamine supplements daily</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only recreational drugs used were from a totally legal Valium prescription </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did not take off clothing or have sex <i>with</i> or <i>in front of</i> friends or strangers</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brushed and flossed teeth before passing out face-first and fully clothed on couch</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Felt zero shame speaking and making kissing noises on the phone to the two year old while standing in line to see panda bears at San Diego Zoo</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Felt some shame while visiting a zoo without kids</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bought two over-priced pink souvenir T-shirts for the kids to throw them off the scent</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waited until 2 pm for a 'hair of the dog'</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Marvelled that Road Trip Bestie had hers at 9 am</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-15190856059276463072012-11-08T07:21:00.000-08:002012-11-17T19:43:53.031-08:00Sex, Zoos and Churros<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has come to my attention that since having kids, the sex the Tall Guy and I have is not like the sex I had when I was younger. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realized this when neither of us could remember when the last time we had sex was. In our lame-ass defense, the weeks without were due in large part to Tall Guy's business/travel schedule and my a-hem, <i>biological</i> schedule, if you know what I mean, ladies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And to make matters worse a close friend needed some dating advice which</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> reminded me how much has changed in the past four years. My friend </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">was planning a date that included a picnic and a little hanky-panky in the great outdoors. Naturally, she immediately thought to call me for my expert opinion on the best way to plan sex in a place that is public, illegal and/or morally objectionable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I mentally tallied up the weirdest places I had sex before having children and provided it below for your perusal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(*This may or may not be a totally complete list)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(**If you know me and know about another place I had sex, please feel free to mention it in the comments section below)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(***If I had sex with you, thank you, I'm sure I had a good time, please refer to above guidelines)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>Weirdest Places I Had Sex Before Having Kids</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><br /></u></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Floor of a hairdresser's work station</b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was July, it was the only place my boyfriend and I could find that had a lock and no parents (it was his mom's business) and it had no air conditioner. It was so humid it was like having sex in a rain forest. A rain forest covered in hair. A hairy rain forest. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we were done we looked like Churros but covered in the hair of strangers, not delicious cinnamon sugar.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUb9A6pjvA97Nw9zPw1rhev2MlRfnjMfTgNhw2qj1RPhHepx8EFbUuS5LGSMrqkeDjRSTgTTt8HFgB00AQLdloJe9LOl59OritFOAROu-690I73XP0o5GtrNCl6g_wjTPIuSNx07RMmo/s1600/churros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzUb9A6pjvA97Nw9zPw1rhev2MlRfnjMfTgNhw2qj1RPhHepx8EFbUuS5LGSMrqkeDjRSTgTTt8HFgB00AQLdloJe9LOl59OritFOAROu-690I73XP0o5GtrNCl6g_wjTPIuSNx07RMmo/s1600/churros.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Churro Threesome would be delicious <br />
A hairy two-some, not so much</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Graveyard</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Halloween night. Don't make me tell the <a href="http://shitidonttell.blogspot.com/2012/10/getting-freaky-in-graveyard.html">underage-sex-in-a-graveyard story</a> again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAg8dg89_viHlOHUFx7iBeUQembTH2EDqWlhJJfDkkiKQ6ByqTfkltXaLKlXv0V96bY6cG0ZrY6YnvCS1jPt-ROtI60uDRbOu7ky-ZyHvinQ4ZEs_LE1_8nkf_NkjzPnDY8vKb3ZAxP0/s1600/Camelback+Graveyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAg8dg89_viHlOHUFx7iBeUQembTH2EDqWlhJJfDkkiKQ6ByqTfkltXaLKlXv0V96bY6cG0ZrY6YnvCS1jPt-ROtI60uDRbOu7ky-ZyHvinQ4ZEs_LE1_8nkf_NkjzPnDY8vKb3ZAxP0/s1600/Camelback+Graveyard.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oooooooooohhhh.....scaaaaarrry! <br />
Or just plain creepy, anyway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mean, who <i>hasn't </i>done this, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On top of a toolbox</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My boyfriend was a mechanic and it was one of those big, Craftsman/Tim the Tool Man type red things on wheels. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZtJIaEPyOdDf1wfk23oeOepvoKkl5onPTiagwaltPG2Bzj84jd03bLZ9_u2cKYZec2XSZ261snVtfwKmxbppyRqVy6WhJWB9XvRC_NshRrfGXwTZoFHub441qccTFrWmrH3Utad2rUs/s1600/Craftman+tool+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZtJIaEPyOdDf1wfk23oeOepvoKkl5onPTiagwaltPG2Bzj84jd03bLZ9_u2cKYZec2XSZ261snVtfwKmxbppyRqVy6WhJWB9XvRC_NshRrfGXwTZoFHub441qccTFrWmrH3Utad2rUs/s1600/Craftman+tool+box.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks much bigger in person...<br />
Yep, heard that one before, pal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can't say why this happened or if it was fun. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can tell you that I got my TruCoat for no additional cost.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xjQ4SyWAjLjOExfXgFe9eqWvSQm8TWKQ_GlF1L6DLC7ezhCZUAddqtU2HGUegHVO0Ilu1e_AQX9G9K2G07sbm1vJiYS4buGy8PgcCjsYcJBgIQwfAIba-CGkfHB2EJTPoPwK6xbLOpQ/s1600/Jerry+Lundgaard+Trucoat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xjQ4SyWAjLjOExfXgFe9eqWvSQm8TWKQ_GlF1L6DLC7ezhCZUAddqtU2HGUegHVO0Ilu1e_AQX9G9K2G07sbm1vJiYS4buGy8PgcCjsYcJBgIQwfAIba-CGkfHB2EJTPoPwK6xbLOpQ/s1600/Jerry+Lundgaard+Trucoat.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Mr. Lundegaard!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On top of my 89 Jeep Wrangler while working for Fish and Wildlife</b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right after college, the Tall Guy and I each worked as field biologists chasing big or slimey animals up mountains or through streams. We lived in the field, me in a cabin, he in a tent, hundreds of miles apart for weeks at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One weekend Tall Guy volunteered at my job and helped us capture bears in order to put satellite collars on them. The day he was leaving to go back to his job we realized (after having not seen each other for several weeks already) that our paths would not cross again for another six weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We made a hasty decision and worked quickly with belts and hiking boots and our Leathermans to get things done before my co-workers showed up at the trail head in their own vehicle. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAr4U5rHezUsL8BUiqQ1h4iNtsN6Hz-UjWTNL0CJNukutAenZ6Yo7nS17lC6xrW5XZzfNi3VBR9wGR0-RYD7uKlW-VgeGge8Q7EjPLa4qbo8PgM7qbirqpkcv4dYncV7vKTE1X89rqz0/s1600/leatherman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAr4U5rHezUsL8BUiqQ1h4iNtsN6Hz-UjWTNL0CJNukutAenZ6Yo7nS17lC6xrW5XZzfNi3VBR9wGR0-RYD7uKlW-VgeGge8Q7EjPLa4qbo8PgM7qbirqpkcv4dYncV7vKTE1X89rqz0/s1600/leatherman.jpg" height="320" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If only this multi-purpose tool could talk...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We made ample use of the roll bar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Use your imagination.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Tuzigoot National Monument</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once again between field jobs, the Tall Guy and I made good use of a rendezvous in the middle of the desert.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd like to say that we did it in one of the hundred or so rooms in these <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuzigoot_National_Monument">amazing ruins</a> but the museum was closed and so we were stuck utilizing the Jeep once again. The hood of it was delightfully frigid as the temperature dropped into the 40s. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhUjZEWBwDRKmS7Tvn751OL5sB6IjTjWEl9rdYIYhKusOOmMIGkiEmIapqjfqSft4_xTxP9Ow1i1-ruESUJBW2o3GCP81WSFFe7vy_uquXV1HI9lJJxXG17iOyRfvW1srY_HN3tw5CBQ/s1600/tuzigoot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhUjZEWBwDRKmS7Tvn751OL5sB6IjTjWEl9rdYIYhKusOOmMIGkiEmIapqjfqSft4_xTxP9Ow1i1-ruESUJBW2o3GCP81WSFFe7vy_uquXV1HI9lJJxXG17iOyRfvW1srY_HN3tw5CBQ/s1600/tuzigoot.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This multi-room pueblo was built by the Sinagua people. It is Spanish for, "without water" <br />
It was not built for white people "without sex" but Jeeps most certainly were</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who knew the desert could get so cold at dusk? </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My ass, that's who knew. It may have been the quickest sex of my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>In Front of an Exotic Bird Exhibit at a Zoo</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't ask what zoo because I won't tell you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will tell you this, however, since <a href="http://shitidonttell.blogspot.com/2012/10/livin-dream-my-first-day-as-zookeeper.html">I used to work at a zoo</a>...I know things....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lots of people have sex at the zoo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yLVfLv5wgsj0D1ebTxOrFBreAVHhOOtADiieh7ot73T2s4wPqQjKwZfW6GhyphenhyphenPue0sJAhSgnilXLbmkPe0lo_Ox7-t5VCbqXpD2hDNgiNW-PRdEs7GwKs5g-7dj44oTOwmEQ3Yv8PG8k/s1600/bear+wrestling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yLVfLv5wgsj0D1ebTxOrFBreAVHhOOtADiieh7ot73T2s4wPqQjKwZfW6GhyphenhyphenPue0sJAhSgnilXLbmkPe0lo_Ox7-t5VCbqXpD2hDNgiNW-PRdEs7GwKs5g-7dj44oTOwmEQ3Yv8PG8k/s1600/bear+wrestling.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No" means "No", Smokey! No means No!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I mean not just the drunk and horny zookeepers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upstairs from a Veterinary Office Somewhere in London</b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A disturbing trend has been discovered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently I seek out sex in closed places of business where I am likely to become covered in hair or grease.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Luckily for me (and you, the nauseated reader) it all ended here. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or shall we say, it <i>began</i>?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fast forward exactly 280 days from this day in London....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On the Eve of My First Born's Due Date</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We threw a, "We're Having a Kid Tomorrow So Please Trash Our House for the Last Time for a Long Time Party". I'd like to say that I had been drinking something besides water that night but of course, I hadn't been. I don't remember if the Tall Guy had been but I imagine he needed to be wasted to have sex with me by that point in the pregnancy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next morning after I showered I woke the Guy up and we drove to the hospital.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And nothing's been the same since :)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Weirdest Places I Had Sex Since Having Kids</b></u><br />
<u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></u>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>On Top</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was my go-to gig before I was busting-at-the-seams pregnant. I'd kinda forgotten about the fabled, On Top oft spoken about by ladies with fewer years and labial folds until recently. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I've been busting this one out a bit lately and the reviews are good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not just Two Thumb's up I'm getting, if you know what I mean...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XBmac1II_EXePKJ0wcTbh9kVZWgbgIyW3HfPj7ukNM8Uw5XW0xLEyPN-fNtcYJM2l1-qZeRkJ6WCclg4zz3PLimmzKIeb_B2FI5TdqB7rHbiX1RX6krex1BuORTRmqKwNmoaVrJ5y6o/s1600/Borat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XBmac1II_EXePKJ0wcTbh9kVZWgbgIyW3HfPj7ukNM8Uw5XW0xLEyPN-fNtcYJM2l1-qZeRkJ6WCclg4zz3PLimmzKIeb_B2FI5TdqB7rHbiX1RX6krex1BuORTRmqKwNmoaVrJ5y6o/s1600/Borat.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still not in the mood after having kids but hubby's nagging you?<br />
Show him this image immediately<br />
You're welcome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now go on- go have sex in a weird place or better yet...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where is the weirdest place you've had sex (and don't say, the City of Mesa)???</span><br />
<br />
*****<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't forget about Theme Thursday!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check out the link below to see what other blogger's have to say about Sex since Kids....</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><a href="http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #743399; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">http://<wbr></wbr>cloudywithachanceofwine.com/<wbr></wbr>1397-2/</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-25457848286606686102012-11-06T14:30:00.001-08:002012-11-12T20:53:26.979-08:00Sex and Two Vaginas and the City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes on special nights the Tall Guy and I let our daughters have what we call, with much enthusiasm "Picnic Dinner!". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the kids, Picnic Dinner! means a complete dinner made up of food that are both palatable and easy to eat for little hands (think fish sticks, chicken strips, green beans, knuckle bones, etc). They get to have their Picnic Dinner! while sitting on a blanket in front of the tv watching a movie of their choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the adults, Picnic Dinner! means dinner with few interruptions. In other words, we get to relax in silence (this is where people who do not have children would normally converse).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tonight I was particularly grumpy due to a hunger-induced migraine and painful knees and was bitching and moaning about how much I hate Winnie the Pooh. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Born in the 1920s, Pooh may have been the first<br />
to wear a Baby Doll Tee </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hate his voice, his stupidity, his friends and especially his stupid, too-small shirt. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22F_LHc5GpOYCEPI3IXvISeuKTj7D7FqMXwbnTC_Z86ZAansoL2EGjwsgHQ5ol__VngRb4fO_CsB-wfXe-00mA5C4ewGuma44o4v9DTzz9Q6XVcBt3pU20FjWlqndHXahtkKjtjpx1qc/s1600/Scotty+J.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22F_LHc5GpOYCEPI3IXvISeuKTj7D7FqMXwbnTC_Z86ZAansoL2EGjwsgHQ5ol__VngRb4fO_CsB-wfXe-00mA5C4ewGuma44o4v9DTzz9Q6XVcBt3pU20FjWlqndHXahtkKjtjpx1qc/s1600/Scotty+J.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">It should come as no surprise that Scotty J.,<br />
both the intellectual and physical equal of Pooh,<br />
was a fan of ill-fitting shirts<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I usually ignore what little tv my kid's watch because I find it unbelievably annoying </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(see previous post about that nitwit, <a href="http://shitidonttell.blogspot.com/2012/10/franklin-fck-up.html">Franklin</a>) but as we sat and ate dinner I could not ignore the 250 inch television in the living room. And then it suddenly hit me- </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Winnie the Pooh is a children's version of Sex and the City!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not nearly as glamorous or artfully filmed, Hundred Acre Wood is like a co-star to Winnie the Pooh just as NYC is to </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sarah Jessica Parker</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. And instead of being obsessed with boozing it up, Pooh and his friends are typically gathered at the end of each show around a gigantic vat of honey instead of Appletini's or Cosmo's or gay male friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still not convinced that Darren Star and Alan Milne were kindred spirits?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Read on...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Pooh vs. Carrie</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, both are obviously the protagonist and in need of help of some kind. Neither are complete without the rest of their weird gang of friends. Both are obsessed with their midriffs. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZbhsKyoC_0g_k1IEhUxjfSdLBSGC19_mNatP_MdRBQ8LdgPtIq9i_O2tpdyvxfcF26vBUppt7unoaw-T_LOGBu7cOSXP84W9O4uqyCnLjR5JEnY9mbvGvnzUb3J8OwJvJcrHJpLlShM/s1600/bad-carrie-bradshaw-outfits3+(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZbhsKyoC_0g_k1IEhUxjfSdLBSGC19_mNatP_MdRBQ8LdgPtIq9i_O2tpdyvxfcF26vBUppt7unoaw-T_LOGBu7cOSXP84W9O4uqyCnLjR5JEnY9mbvGvnzUb3J8OwJvJcrHJpLlShM/s1600/bad-carrie-bradshaw-outfits3+(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently even outside of the Hundred Acre Wood it<br />
is difficult to find shirts that will cover the 'rumbly in your tumbly'</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Eeyore vs. Miranda</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both tend to be the stick in the mud (or honey) and neither knows how to accessorize That bow on Eeyore's ass does not count.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrYJVqshakPTwNi2riTWEl4QVpIrDC7ND3USUP5Sed5BltSQei6N9bsuRGbL386v4nOnzhu5_PbUDB5tbWZnpJKvJWXV9zcTeqvKDuX-ypsdGZg5GOv8Gzwcp9iHyNqgiNvRall5cyWE/s1600/Miranda+Sex+and+City.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrYJVqshakPTwNi2riTWEl4QVpIrDC7ND3USUP5Sed5BltSQei6N9bsuRGbL386v4nOnzhu5_PbUDB5tbWZnpJKvJWXV9zcTeqvKDuX-ypsdGZg5GOv8Gzwcp9iHyNqgiNvRall5cyWE/s1600/Miranda+Sex+and+City.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't like empowered women like Miranda Hobbes?? <br />
Well, FORK YOU!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And neither do those earrings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Piglet vs. Charlotte</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Always cheerful and upbeat, both these feminine and perky people prefer pink.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3D3DQOteylBvB9aiPtC1n-BGVBf7uLQnNkRdABqLKH6WG_w93IzRKRiTi-Bnq8Z1twY4AZYr0BiPS271Gt8N12kx1lCHKSF1FWm9VI4ce_jb3DFqTeaddTQ6qTt69IWSG51y4pr8AE0/s1600/charlotte+happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3D3DQOteylBvB9aiPtC1n-BGVBf7uLQnNkRdABqLKH6WG_w93IzRKRiTi-Bnq8Z1twY4AZYr0BiPS271Gt8N12kx1lCHKSF1FWm9VI4ce_jb3DFqTeaddTQ6qTt69IWSG51y4pr8AE0/s1600/charlotte+happy.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I just want to be a wife and a Mother", said Charlotte</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIQFNGx8n76xhj8QDvNvWG3fvOrNfewoaxbV35XouTGPvvUFuGgr0Q9z0o9wRcG3kl9BQL_3sf0Dcv1C5r06V_Y_v3X-KwKqY00J6TbWjUjIxxeQnsvEir1MKS-uuTqTXf-KfJ1LndeE/s1600/Piglet+happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIQFNGx8n76xhj8QDvNvWG3fvOrNfewoaxbV35XouTGPvvUFuGgr0Q9z0o9wRcG3kl9BQL_3sf0Dcv1C5r06V_Y_v3X-KwKqY00J6TbWjUjIxxeQnsvEir1MKS-uuTqTXf-KfJ1LndeE/s1600/Piglet+happy.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I just want to be a husband and somebody's 'other' Dad", said Piglet </td></tr>
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<u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Kangaroo (Kanga) vs. Samantha</u><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kangaroo's have a bicornuate uterus which is practically like having two vaginas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enough said.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdz2RD4vpvxuZM-aUhkXMzEfJXaXG0PKBfyBg6bDgQswmKUXqohCVzSjkIalHZEWaoM_Y_bqCTpzCddZdXjuF6u8nL_sfyHZtPqYWaoVgoCpYvFbI7WBSyLdtJUdefRtRIcyRN3r9HVA/s1600/samantha+sex+and+the+city.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdz2RD4vpvxuZM-aUhkXMzEfJXaXG0PKBfyBg6bDgQswmKUXqohCVzSjkIalHZEWaoM_Y_bqCTpzCddZdXjuF6u8nL_sfyHZtPqYWaoVgoCpYvFbI7WBSyLdtJUdefRtRIcyRN3r9HVA/s1600/samantha+sex+and+the+city.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What do you mean, she gets TWO vaginas?? </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.*Spoiler alert*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We <strike>won't be forced to</strike> get to see another Sex and the City movie sequel until Kim Cattrall finagles </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a second vagina written into her contract.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rats!</span><br />
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A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-74631145361010150842012-11-04T15:55:00.001-08:002012-11-12T20:29:22.125-08:00Shit I've Accomplished This Week<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a very busy two weeks attending to my injured and needy knees and mother, I have finally found myself back at the laptop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite missing blogging about really important things, I feel good about my absence in the blogosphere thanks in no small part to how totally f*cking awesome I am because of all the <i>other</i> shit I got done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't feel intimidated when you read the list of </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">all the awesome shit I got done- you can always shoot for next week and aim low as I like to do.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Put away most of clothing from the spare bedroom/laundry expo room downstairs so my my mom could spend the week with us.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Found new home for "spirited" puppy that helped break my 70 year-old-mom's wrist while on a walk</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did physical therapy for my knees every other day</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thought about swimming as a low-impact alternative to jogging or aerobics several times</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blogged about swimming once</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Took a two hour nap </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Almost had friends over for a barbecue (they had to cancel at last minute)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did not clean or stress about not cleaning prior to barbecue</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did not get wasted in front of friend in 12 step program</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Got kid up from nap, as suggested by the Tall Guy, so she wouldn't be up all night tonight</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I GOT LAID!</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just to make you feel better about not doing half the shit I did, here's a list of the things I did but perhaps need improvement on</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Piled rest of clothing from spare room on various horizontal surfaces in the house or on closet floors</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pawned off annoying puppy on very good friends </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lied in my blog about how often I did PT for my knees the past two weeks</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually went </span>swimming as a low-impact alternative to jogging or aerobics once</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yelled, "CANDY!" from downstairs in order to get kid up from nap quickly</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Psst- totally do<i> not</i> mention to the Tall Guy that I got laid last night- he may start to become suspicious</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what the hell did you get done this week that you are proud, ashamed of or lied about? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Teeeell me- you can post it anonymously and it would almost be like going to church!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(See that? You can now add "Went to church" to your own Shit I've Accomplished This Week as well as your </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shit I've Lied About</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> This Week list)</span></div>
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A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-61358118224981459452012-10-27T17:07:00.003-07:002012-11-12T20:28:40.451-08:00The Empty Wheelchair<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a long, hot summer and this week the weather is cool enough so that I'm no longer in danger of dehydrating before leaving the driveway for an afternoon run. Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to hit the dirt trail just 100 yards from my house, I'm trying to be smart and reduce the high-impact stuff until my knees are on the mend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a tough 40 minutes on the elliptical with nothing but Hoda and Kathy Lee to watch on the gym's tv while I elliptesized (oh, hell yeah, I'm making that a verb) and listen to music, I limped to the locker room to change. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Knees and ego still aching from last week's diagnosis of "bone on bone" in the right knee and what I'm going to call, Oldageitis in my left, I suited up for an uninspired swim.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As usual, I forgot to shave and so I peeked out of the locker room to see if there was anyone else doing laps and how embarrassed I should be in case anyone noticed my 'situation'. The pool was still- it's surface like an aqua-blue pane of glass. Relieved, I flip-flopped to the edge of the pool where I stood and tucked my recently dyed hair into a very unflattering swim cap. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was an empty wheel chair sitting at the edge of the pool. I thought it was weird and the only explanation I could come up with was that someone had left it there and that this person must be nearby and would come back to get it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is this thought process that clearly demonstrates the obvious-<i> that raising children has riddled my brain with gaping holes that obstruct my ability to think in any logical manner whatsoever.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then from the far end of the pool, I hear a mans voice ask, "So, are you swimming a mile these days?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realized it was the owner of the wheel chair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was walking the pool's perimeter at a pace so slow that his movements left no discernible wake in the water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His name is John and every few laps or so when I'd stop to catch my breath (yes, that's either how very, <u>very</u> fast I swim <i>or</i> that's how taxing swimming is for me), John and I would chat for a minute or two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">John smiled as he spoke about some of his accomplishments. Twenty-five years earlier he had been a quadriplegic but eventually he was able to learn how to use the left side of his body and he <i>still </i>hadn't given up the hope that he would one day leave his wheelchair behind. Two years earlier, after turning 50 and after much pool training, he had been able to walk 40 feet without assistance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But like me, injuries had set John back and he had to change</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> his workout routine. Unlike me, John didn't seem to feel sorry for himself and I did not hear him complain once about his struggles at the gym or the challenges he must face on a daily basis.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I shut up and swam. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I swam twice as long as I had planned while chatting with John. After forty minutes, he finished the last 20 or so meters and was back where he left the wheelchair that had confused me so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His goal was to go from his current one lap around the pool perimeter to four laps and eventually out of his wheel chair. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My goal is to appreciate what I <i>can</i> do, stop complaining about my minor aches and pains, to never give up on my goals and never, ever forget about my swim with John.</span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-65412805983274136322012-10-22T12:50:00.003-07:002012-11-12T20:27:58.330-08:00Knee Jerk Reaction<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I hurt my knee doing squats and lunges at the gym the other day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But as it turns out, I actually just got old.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The exam and xrays confirm that I have no acute injury, just wear n' tear typical of a very active, a-hem, person of a certain age. So the bad news is that no matter how often I go to the gym or how many miles I can run, these activities cannot stop my knees or all my other parts from aging. Grrr....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">High on pain meds in the middle of the day, I've begun to think of all the <strike>dangerous</strike> <strike>poorly planned</strike> dumb things I've done in my life and my career and I came up with the following:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tracking and tranquelizing black bear in the wild as a Game and Fish intern - <strong>No injury</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Lifting Gigantasaurus baby out of crib multiply times daily for 18 months - <strong>Torn rotator cuff</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Running 5 marathons with less than optimum "long runs" while training - <strong>No injury</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Running 6th marathon in new (tight) shoes - <strong>Stress fracture of metatarsal (broke foot)</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Jumping into arms of friend standing waste-high at the bar pool in Mexico in order to demonstrate a pivotal scene in Dirty Dancing - <strong>Bruise on bottom of foot</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Upping my workouts to two hours daily, 4 days a week in order to continue to eat and drink as many potato chips and diet tonic and vodkas as I want and then finding out the pain in my knee is not a torn ACL but just worn down cartilage - <strong>Enormously bruised ego</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">*Sigh*</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-77688049637968461542012-10-18T06:02:00.000-07:002012-11-12T20:27:25.142-08:00Getting Freaky in a Graveyard<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is going to sound <i>really</i> bad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had sex in a graveyard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was 17.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It sounds a lot worse than it really was. The idea of it, that is, not the sex itself. The sex was not bad, I'd say mediocre, at best.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To begin with, the act was performed</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> with a boy that I was in love with and who had been my boyfriend for over a year. We had a mutually respectful relationship and we were looking for another way to connect. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And also, new places to screw and not get caught by our parents.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And in my defense, it was a <i>pet</i> cemetery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even as a child, I had always loved the scare you could get watching a good horror movie. I was only five when my parents took me to see </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a double feature </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that included </span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073195/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jaws</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and </span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075005/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Omen</a>. <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was wearing my pajamas and clutching a stuffed animal as I watched a giant, fake shark terrorize a New England beach from t</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">he back seat of our fake-wood paneled station wagon</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To this day I cannot imagine why my parents thought it was a good idea to take me to see two of the scariest movies ever made. Strangely, it didn't freak me out, rather, it just made me really like horror movies. And surprisingly, there is no long-term psychological or emotional damage to me in spite of this early trauma (that we <i>know of</i>). That said, i</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">t was probably not the best parenting decision my folks made prior to their divorce a few years later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time I'd reached high school, as far as I was concerned, there were no more <i>good</i> scary movies being made. They were too unrealistic, lacked imagination and the plots and dialog were always too stupid to believe. I was in need of a good scare and decided that my friends and I should visit a <a href="http://www.russlyon.com/blog/paradise-valley/camelback-cemetery-houses-paradise-valley-arizona-history/">graveyard not too far from where we lived</a>. Reluctantly, they agreed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe to insure that at least </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">one</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> person wouldn't back out at the last minute, I told my boyfriend that I wanted to 'do it' while we were there. Because that would be reeeally </span><strike style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">fucking weird</strike><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> scary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He enthusiastically agreed. Not so much because he wanted to get laid in a cemetery- he just wanted to get laid. Anywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was around ten o'clock when the six of us arrived and parked behind the middle school across the street. We killed a couple of hours drinking, smoking and telling ghost stories before we all had the courage to leave the bleachers and head in the direction of the pet cemetery. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We crossed the street and climbed over a short, chain-link fence that surrounded the cemetery. Out of fear all six of us walked in a tight cluster holding hands. We covered our mouths between muffled giggles and whispering, "BOO!"to each other, in hopes that the living neighbors whose houses surrounded the yard, wouldn't hear us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was nearly midnight and the slight breeze made it chillier than usual. The graveyard was small- maybe two acres and it was not maintained at all. The ground was hard-packed, desert dirt with occasional ground squirrel holes and dried up weeds </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">littering the property. Most of the pet plots had nothing but crooked wooden crosses, the sun having baked off much of their white paint. There were no names that we could see on the first few grave markers we came across.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxuYnii2Zie0BBb09NKhWmCoKzc5AX-uJNtCxjhi_oC3aEn81WA6zUY9la96zTmtQFPJWL7xyTz6AlO4Rk3kwAPYSD3SwdvHqmodTVtooKA6Y2EBiV0cxAepUnaD1X2b_wMgmDEGZwmA/s1600/Camelback+Graveyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxuYnii2Zie0BBb09NKhWmCoKzc5AX-uJNtCxjhi_oC3aEn81WA6zUY9la96zTmtQFPJWL7xyTz6AlO4Rk3kwAPYSD3SwdvHqmodTVtooKA6Y2EBiV0cxAepUnaD1X2b_wMgmDEGZwmA/s1600/Camelback+Graveyard.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real picture of our Spooky Neighborhood Graveyard in the daylight<br />
(add your own creepy soundtrack here- I suggest wind whistling<br />
or the sound of your kids opening up the squeaky cabinet<br />
where you keep your home-made porn collection)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Under the guise of playing hide-and-go-seek, I grabbed my boyfriend's hand and we shuffled off giggling, knowing what we were about to do would be both silly and scary. We found a small area of concrete where there stood a tall flagpole at the back of the cemetery. We argued briefly about who would be on the bottom and thus, be forced to lay bare-bottomed on the cold concrete. Although it was dark and we knew our friends couldn't see us from across the cemetery, we also knew we would be unable to see any one of them approaching if they happened to come looking for us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We fumbled with belts and buttons and zippers and were in the middle of (fill in the blank with an </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">illegal, underage activity of your preference </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) _________ when we heard one of our friends call out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were dressed and on our feet quickly, running in the direction of the cry. We found everyone motionless and staring at one of the few, non-wooden headstones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it was not a dog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or cat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or bird.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a person. And though I cannot remember the name or the dates, I remember it was a young person, a kid. A kid that had died and was buried there nearly 100 years earlier. And we looked at the headstone next to it, and the one next to that one and the one next to that one. It was an entire family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were literally stunned into silence and I was mortified by my earlier actions. How disrespectful we had been. And how embarrassed I was for my behavior. And for having sex in front of ghosts. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We thought we were screwing in front of labradoodles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX1_1Z_lbxFH7uuZbPtT-i10Vqz_ICh7Ag1s-KOGqrQS2-iYZ8lfFoM2rljYv9AOkgJDQoXQT0GzChD6jpxa1v3-v7WF74nkP2JujjyK8ditCLTsXvcwN3xD7Wkn0dyyBoxcJxCBO334/s1600/Zombie+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX1_1Z_lbxFH7uuZbPtT-i10Vqz_ICh7Ag1s-KOGqrQS2-iYZ8lfFoM2rljYv9AOkgJDQoXQT0GzChD6jpxa1v3-v7WF74nkP2JujjyK8ditCLTsXvcwN3xD7Wkn0dyyBoxcJxCBO334/s1600/Zombie+dog.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a Zombie Labradoodle would look if he watched me have sex and <br />
he also happened to be dressed up as a Siberian Husky <br />
( Zombie dogs always dress up on Halloween )</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ghosts saw me naked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone wisely suggested we "get the hell out of here" and so we did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8R8rk4OxfsQSgBceMyaiZfWBgwuxyKtfIDi9Plc7zp6pWQRKAGewZ-MtzMmBql4rtcyBFm_z6LqtNThaUNNffVtLdDLuJPVHK-zeQChoeuDTdRpc9wHERHeyOOiILGvltIjR1sxRXZgA/s1600/scooby+doo+gand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8R8rk4OxfsQSgBceMyaiZfWBgwuxyKtfIDi9Plc7zp6pWQRKAGewZ-MtzMmBql4rtcyBFm_z6LqtNThaUNNffVtLdDLuJPVHK-zeQChoeuDTdRpc9wHERHeyOOiILGvltIjR1sxRXZgA/s1600/scooby+doo+gand.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artist rendering of what our exit may have looked like the night we got freaky in a graveyard </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We spent the rest of the night hanging out behind the middle school and reliving the evening we spent among ghosts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have not thought about that night in many years, I guess because it wasn't as scary or significant as I had hoped it was going to be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But just to be safe, my daughters will never be taken to a horror movie double-feature before the age of six and instead will be brought up on a steady diet of Disney, Pixar and Dreamworks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">************************************************************************************************************</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Didja know it's Theme Thursday?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check out what other bloggers have to say about Halloween by clicking on the links below....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/2012/10/mwf-looking-for-non-slutty-costume.html"><span style="color: blue;">Something Clever 2.0</span></a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/2012/10/18/theme-thursday-halloween-and-why-i-didnt-get-a-degree-in-nursing/"><span style="color: blue;">Cloudy With a Chance of Wine</span></a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://lorihokie.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-ghost-of-halloween-past.html"><span style="color: blue;">The Next Step</span></a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://calibamamom.wordpress.com/2012/10/18/best-date-night-ever-halloween-horror-nights/"><span style="color: blue;">a calibama state of mind</span></a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://yourlifetourguide.wordpress.com/category/theme-thursday/">Your Life Tour Guide</a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each week you'll have the opportunity to see what the same five whackos have to say about the same subject. Believe me, it will explain a <i>lot</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enjoy!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-65773137353911159172012-10-15T12:57:00.002-07:002012-11-12T20:26:46.732-08:00Childhood Trauma #43<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We had some New Friends over for an evening barbecue last night. They brought their two little girls and their puppy. It was nice- us adults were able to enjoy ourselves while the kids and dogs played/argued over toys/sniffed each other.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By the time they left, the house was actually pretty clean since the kids played mostly outside. The patio table had only a few stray dishes on it because the lovely New Friends helped clean up some of the mess. The kids (and dog) were exhausted and not fighting bed time since they were tuckered out from all of the playing/arguing/sniffing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ahh, a successful night!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Until I looked at the two text messages on my phone that apparently had been sent many hours earlier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Around 6 pm from Angie: Where are you? We're missing your girls and we have a HUGE bounce-house in our backyard!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And later on from Becky: Are you guys ok? I miss you and my girls miss ur girls. Hope everything is ok.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, crap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I just caused my kid to miss her best friend's birthday party. No excuse. All my fault. We received the invitation a little late, just last week, and so in my mind the 14th must be waaay far away. I had plenty of time to get around to writing it on a calendar...or so I thought.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At any rate, I am feeling beyond bad about this and am trying to figure out a way to tell my kid that she will not be attending a Ninja themed birthday party with a HUGE bounce house.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The only thing I can say for certain is that I will NOT be telling the truth as to why my kid will miss the birthday party. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We can't say it was cancelled because she could eventually find out that it was not- I'm looking for something more imaginative than, "I forgot that it was supposed to be on the 14th and got buzzed with our New Friends at our own barbecue" but <em>less</em> imaginative than, "Mothra came and wrecked Nic's birthday party and Godzilla crushed the bounce house".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am currently trying to not lose sight of the fact that this is sadly, not the worst parenting mistake I have made this month, much less this week. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am also trying to find solace in the fact that in the grand scheme of things, missing this party is not the end of the world and will have little affect on my kid's future.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am also taking suggestions on what lie I need to tell my kid so I come out smelling like roses.</span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-43666049905796067952012-10-11T06:01:00.001-07:002012-11-17T19:43:00.489-08:00Livin' the Dream- My First Day as a Zookeeper<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I always wanted to work with animals and in the dark days before the advent of Animal Planet as a kid I actually wanted to <em>be </em>Jim Fowler. Jim was the compliant assistant to Marlin Perkins of Mutual of Omaha's <em>Wild Kingdom</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPrqvU2vIqD_G_FCWQIGLPav6Sb-HkVsQ-AIG8C_yactbl0e29xcuUSdRlaH6GpQSq0xUKLKjCENoybO5ixSOR_hbezF3xqhZq_AsZ4Nwx5KMnVcLV8hbj09CvZGwJHqq-p2ZqNfWpSs/s1600/Marlin+perkins+and+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRPrqvU2vIqD_G_FCWQIGLPav6Sb-HkVsQ-AIG8C_yactbl0e29xcuUSdRlaH6GpQSq0xUKLKjCENoybO5ixSOR_hbezF3xqhZq_AsZ4Nwx5KMnVcLV8hbj09CvZGwJHqq-p2ZqNfWpSs/s1600/Marlin+perkins+and+map.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marlin Perkins on Wild Kingdom in a time before digital maps.<br />
And good lighting. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being Marlin Perkin's 'assistant' meant doing all of the work wearing kick-ass, khaki pants and a sweet leather belt. It also meant being forced out of a Jeep or boat by Mr. Perkins in order to subdue a 40 foot long crocodile or something similar. Mr. Perkin's calming voice-over would offer up a narrative that made it sound like wrestling a croc was a perfectly normal thing to do and there was no danger whatsoever involved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcQZy-VEGLhAxdkqsUN7Bz1xu40Vz2HgT7MRII2MPXYPcQpyaOca-H5aXx5zsJxOzwIOF11zJ9FyzT_fmybHPxNwSr5P5fDXJ4cabNd5ZaWLlSVuJne8nHZ1P8n73z6WkOiVOMrQRevI/s1600/jim+fowler+on+a+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcQZy-VEGLhAxdkqsUN7Bz1xu40Vz2HgT7MRII2MPXYPcQpyaOca-H5aXx5zsJxOzwIOF11zJ9FyzT_fmybHPxNwSr5P5fDXJ4cabNd5ZaWLlSVuJne8nHZ1P8n73z6WkOiVOMrQRevI/s1600/jim+fowler+on+a+boat.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marlin pointing out a crocodile to Jim so he could wrestle it by hand, into submission</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">fter landing the ultimate, animal lover's dream job- working at a zoo- I quickly learned that Mr. Perkin's calm demeanor in the studio may have been a tad misleading.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ruQ22ApS6oOWhTCDY4hSX17cDaQYJBku5CeSNgcrLxALA48YyyJBLP9JjQmeGSSd-Fl7XtfN9MMi0j0QC-Ngu5Htx7jw1dB2h3T3trgAC23hl4EFsOLrqdAveT1aDDgyaBvoyMNv2o/s1600/bear+wrestling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2ruQ22ApS6oOWhTCDY4hSX17cDaQYJBku5CeSNgcrLxALA48YyyJBLP9JjQmeGSSd-Fl7XtfN9MMi0j0QC-Ngu5Htx7jw1dB2h3T3trgAC23hl4EFsOLrqdAveT1aDDgyaBvoyMNv2o/s320/bear+wrestling.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Just kiddin'! There's no croc- It's really a bear!" exclaims Marlin, much to Jim's delight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On my first day as a zookeeper, I was told that I would not be working with animals that day. The time would be spent filling out W2's, getting my zoo issue cargo pants and HR bullshit. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">And I would be doing all of this while spending the entire eight hours with my new boss, Tawny, a zoo keeping veteran of 20 years.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUD7_fFUGWxF6Ei9j5Ob_FIaJqCeyX-FSh2cgEeEnuWQwbjsakHyHqrruA57p-Rb0CKr3fZkrEzOw0eG4A7uKWzi7dnFe9YLe3O2PceaGVTOgNNfB8EuixBK_SAmg0NRS_J3Iw3n9W9II/s1600/butt+pic.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUD7_fFUGWxF6Ei9j5Ob_FIaJqCeyX-FSh2cgEeEnuWQwbjsakHyHqrruA57p-Rb0CKr3fZkrEzOw0eG4A7uKWzi7dnFe9YLe3O2PceaGVTOgNNfB8EuixBK_SAmg0NRS_J3Iw3n9W9II/s1600/butt+pic.bmp" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that is my ass and yes, I worried about splitting those pants <i>every single day</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Tawny was of indeterminate age but you would recognize her as the older lady with the over-processed hair that was rockin' out at The Scorpions concert you attended in 9th grade. Although it was nearly 15 years ago I can still recall Tawny's hair, voice and hands. She spoke like <a href="http://www.fu-manchu.com/morbidaj/spicoli.htm">Jeff Spicoli</a> and had speckled, leathery hands that showed every minute of the 20 years she spent working in the desert sun. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64FuH3cDxM8bns9AfjI1pgYeoRM-DJ_YJry3DvhEj25dVGb6MCYw8fFAFq3M0SkvgjSQ7GKAaGpOx6wiKXt03vryqSQMzqNIgXCKerB4z_LqW00bPHrudqreeRj9hV5QF2BCDxjISJhk/s1600/jeff+spicoli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64FuH3cDxM8bns9AfjI1pgYeoRM-DJ_YJry3DvhEj25dVGb6MCYw8fFAFq3M0SkvgjSQ7GKAaGpOx6wiKXt03vryqSQMzqNIgXCKerB4z_LqW00bPHrudqreeRj9hV5QF2BCDxjISJhk/s1600/jeff+spicoli.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine the hair a little bigger and replace the checkerboard Vans with a rake and the bagel<br />
with a walkie-talkie and you've pretty much got Tawny. And add a Scorpions concert T shirt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">With the exception of one very brief moment, most of that day remains a blur to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ah, but that one moment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I toured the zoo with Tawny in a golf cart that looked to have been built during the Johnson administration. It had been converted to have a mini truck bed on the back in order to transfer big buckets of poop around zoo grounds. While we drove past- no joke- a 15 foot wall of shit Tawny referred to as the "compost" pile, she received a call on her walkie-talkie. The conversation went something like this:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Disembodied static-y voice on walkie-talkie: "The tiger just arrived."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Tawny: (to walkie-talkie voice) "We can be there in five minutes" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Me: (in my own head, "I'MGOINGTOSEEATIGER, I'MGOINGTOSEEATIGER, I'MGOINGTOSEEATIGER, I'MGOINGTOSEEATIGER, I'MGOINGTOSEEATIGER!!!")</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And then Tawny turned to me and asked, "You want to go see a tiger?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> "Um, yeah. Ok", I said, super casual and all, </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">AS IF PEOPLE ASKED ME TO SEE VISITING TIGERS EVERY FUCKING DAY.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So this part is a little fuzzy. All I know is that a new male tiger named, Dutch, had just arrived by truck after being hauled across the country for nearly a week. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">I had no role to play in the transfer of Dutch's 12 foot long shipping crate from the back of a truck and into the tiger night-house*. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I tried my best to stay out of the way during the hour long procedure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">(*</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">A</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> 'night-house' is zoo-speak for the small, decrepit building that zoo animals are locked into at night, usually located </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">at</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> the back of the exhibit. They are usually infested with rats, scorpions and cockroaches as well as the odd tiger or lion.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By the time we arrived, all of the zookeepers involved in the tiger transfer process were already inside the night-house. Tawny led me through the night-house- it reminded me of old-timey, underground jail cells. Lots of concrete, little ventilation and a long, narrow hallway. The smell was not totally unpleasant, like how you imagine your house would smell if your cat weighed 200 pounds instead of 9 and he peed on your couch every time you got home late from work. And you have a swamp cooler. That needs servicing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As we began to walk down the hall, Tawny stopped in her tracks and looked me straight in the eye. She told me to "stay close to this", and gestured to the decades-old concrete wall with chipping paint on my left side. Um, ok, whatever. I practically rolled my eyes but instead I followed her quickly down the hallway without another word between us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On the right side of the hallway was just a chain link fence that I could have touched if I had stretched my arm a bit. Behind the chain link was a cell about 10 x 15 feet. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Much to my disappointment the room was completely void of tigers and I felt gypped. Because I was hired to be a zoo keeper for the animals that were used for educational presentations to church groups, nursing homes and rich, three-year old birthday parties, I would be limited to working with small parrots, snakes and hedgehogs</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">. Odds were pretty good (unless I was lucky enough to see one escape!) that if it didn't happen today, I would not be seeing a tiger at the zoo anytime soon.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At the end of the hallway I was safe from harm as well as any chance of watching the probably very pissed off tiger enter his exhibit for the very first time. And although I couldn't see the tiger, I could see the head zookeeper, watching the silent crate at the end of the hallway. He was armed with a shotgun (no, not a <em>dart</em> gun, a <b>SHOT</b>GUN) just in case the shit hit the fan. Oh, and all the doors were locked. We were locked in. With a tiger. A probably very pissed tiger. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Why were we locked in? says you. I'm glad you asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On the off chance that the tiger would escape, the doors would remain locked until the tiger could be "contained". Or until he ate everybody.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">(*Spoiler alert No. 1: I did not get eaten by a tiger on this particular day, however, later in my career I was locked <em>inside</em> one of those small rooms with a 500 pound African lion that was unexpectedly waking up under anesthetic. This was done in order to contain him until the tranquilizer began to take full affect and so that he wouldn't eat the zookeeper manager. The manager had locked herself safely in the lion-free hallway while leaving us in the cage to <strike>die</strike> deal with the situation. Another time the same manager also locked me and some zookeepers in with a waking-up orangutan. *Spoiler alert No. 2 : I did not get eaten by the African lion *Spoiler alert No. 3: I did not get eaten by the waking up orangutan) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I gathered that Dutch had safely exited his crate and entered his new bedroom because I could hear the keepers at the end of the hallway speaking in hushed tones. I could hear some of them using their 'kitty' voices saying comforting things like, "Hi, Dutchy!", "Easy now, Dutch", "You're ok, buddy" and "If you're going to eat someone, please eat that stupid looking new girl down the hall", or something like that, I think. Maybe. Pretty sure.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Although I couldn't see him, I knew by the eyes of the motionless keepers standing at the end of the hallway, that Dutch was pacing around his new bedroom. And I was right- the low growl/rumble/low frequency demonic verses coming down the hallway were not sounds indicative of a happy kitty. I was pretty sure they were the sounds tigers made before eating people. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Everyone seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as Dutch was finally secure in his night-house and everyone could leave.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Tawny stood at the far end of the hallway from me and motioned for me to come down to where she stood. At that moment I realized why she seemed so Bruce Willis-y earlier when she told me to "stay close" to the wall side of the hallway.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was going to have to walk past that furious fucking tiger.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And now the hallway seemed extra long. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And extra narrow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And control over my bowels seemed iffy at best.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now, in the very small world of people that work with wild animals, t</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">here's a fine line between brave and stupid and I knew I needed to straddle it carefully. Both my reputation and my safety were at risk. And maybe my undies. Walking too close would probably make Dutch even more uneasy in his new place and his reaction would be unpredictable (cower in a corner vs. eating through chain link in millisecond and then eating my head). Walking too close the wall on my right would imply that I was scared to walk past a tiger that was safely locked up, even if I wasn't (<i>but I actually really was</i>). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">WWJD?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">What Would Jim (Fowler) Do?, I thought to myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">He would look cool, that's what he would do. Whatever he did, he would look cool. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">So, I did my best to walk coolly, calmly, quickly down the almost middle of the hallway, a touch or two closer to the wall on my right. I stared straight down the hall as I began to walk the 15 or so feet past Dutch's bedroom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And that's when that unforgettable moment happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I didn't see him spring from where he was pacing at the back of the bedroom or even jump up on his hind legs. What I did see was the face of Dutch, a full grown Sumatran tiger, roaring less than three feet from my face as I walked past. I don't remember how loud it was (though on later trips to the lion/tiger night-house I was impressed with the how loud the roars of the cats were), I just remember actually feeling the roar. In my chest. My chest actually <i>vibrated</i>. Or I had stress-induced heart palpitations. Either way, I remember it in my chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The rest of that day was a blur, the only other thing I remember was thinking throughout the entire day,<i> I got a job at a zoo!</i> </span><i style="font-family: Arial;"> I got a job at a zoo!</i><i style="font-family: Arial;"> I got a job at a zoo!</i><br />
<i style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></i>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Whether my </span><strike style="font-family: Arial;">underwear</strike><span style="font-family: Arial;"> life </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">changing experience was because I was concentrating too hard on not looking scared (<i>but I actually was</i>) or because Dutch was ninja-fast, I'll never know. All I do know is that it was the first of a handful of times my body reacted in a very visceral way in response to a perceived animal threat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_oxQ20BtHfqA98_C-4Mj4ElOzIAtEEVlwY6X6KfGLLT4B9Lsn70gIeyQkCn9yTOYO7K3ZgEj2CHbmD_r9fiXWM0Ple05DuZdXvmExWVJM-bj1inWTIcPRj8vPoHN9UyHY9P6Ng55h3E/s1600/Tiger+house+hallway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_oxQ20BtHfqA98_C-4Mj4ElOzIAtEEVlwY6X6KfGLLT4B9Lsn70gIeyQkCn9yTOYO7K3ZgEj2CHbmD_r9fiXWM0Ple05DuZdXvmExWVJM-bj1inWTIcPRj8vPoHN9UyHY9P6Ng55h3E/s320/Tiger+house+hallway.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Years later going down the narrow hall past the tiger 'bedroom' for a veterinary procedure.<br />
The oxygen is just in case a new zookeeper passes out when an angry kitty roars at him/her</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And so the second day on the job led to the next and the next. My job changed more than once while at the zoo and I even left the zoo a couple of times so I could goof around overseas for several years. M</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">ore than ten years went by and I kept returning to that dream job.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">What I do remember is that Dutch was the first animal I met on both his and my first day at the zoo. Many years later, </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">by then working as a veterinary technician at the animal hospital on zoo grounds,</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> I was beside Dutch during his final moments. And despite some dark days, like the day we said goodbye to Dutch, working at the zoo really was a once in a lifetime job. It was there I had the pleasure and honor of working with some of the most amazing zookeepers and incredible animals I've ever known.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And although I had a few more adrenalin rushes working with sick, injured or not-quite-anesthetized animals I never did poop in my pants. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Poop <i>on</i> my pants. Yes, just about every day but it was never <i>my</i> poop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Poop <i>in</i> my pants. Nope, not once.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I doubt even Jim Fowler can say that.</span><br />
<br />
*********************************************************************************<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Click on any one of the links below to see what other blogger's 'dream job' experiences have been- It will probably give you insight at why so many bloggers are emotionally damaged/fragile people</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something Clever 2.0</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://www.<wbr></wbr>somethingclever2point0.com/</span></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aspiring
to the Middle<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://mf-aspiring.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://mf-aspiring.blogspot.<wbr></wbr>com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cloudy
With a Chance of Wine<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://<wbr></wbr>cloudywithachanceofwine.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
like beer and babies.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.ilikebeerandbabies.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://www.ilikebeerandbabies.<wbr></wbr>com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mod
Mom Beyond IndieDom<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://modmombeyondindiedom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://modmombeyondindiedom.<wbr></wbr>blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mommy
Rotten <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://blog.mommyrotten.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://blog.mommyrotten.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
Next Step<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://lorihokie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://lorihokie.blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a calibama state of mind<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://calibamamom.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://calibamamom.wordpress.<wbr></wbr>com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mom
With Her Running Shoes On<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://momwithherrunningshoeson.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://<wbr></wbr>momwithherrunningshoeson.<wbr></wbr>blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who
Woulda Thought?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://whowouldathought-kevin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://whowouldathought-kevin.<wbr></wbr>blogspot.com</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
Insomniac's Dream<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;">http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.<wbr></wbr>com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each Thursday you'll have a chance to check out what a bunch of different crazed bloggers (redundant, I know) have to say about a particular topic.</span><br />
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-90651618220712203832012-10-07T15:10:00.001-07:002014-10-11T10:36:11.154-07:00Don't Shit Where You Sleep<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was supposed to be our Big Night Out minus the little people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was an adults-only wedding. No, not that kind of 'adults-only' ( I wish!). Doug, a friend of over twenty years, met someone really nice and so they decided to get hitched in a very nice wedding in his resort-like backyard last night. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And not have all of our kids there to ruin it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good planning on their part.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a timeline of the events that occurred last night:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:15 pm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suited-up Tall Guy and I arrive 15 minutes late and sneak into the back of the ceremony already in progress </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:30 </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Notice an old friend from high school that I was a little apprehensive to see standing twenty feet away at the rear of the ceremony as well (she and her husband apparently as flakey as me and Tall Guy since they obviously arrived late to the ceremony as well). She begins waving happily, frantically in my direction. I slowly wave back, surprised at the enthusiasm she has at seeing me. I am relieved- things won't be as awkward as I anticipated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I notice the guy that she was <i>actually waving at</i> pass by me and go over and hug the frantically waving high school friend. Feel like an ass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:35</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ceremony over with, bump into ex husband of a friend for the first time since he walked out. Weird. He may or may not have grabbed my ass. Nice. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still got it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:37</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bump into Frantically Waiving Friend, we hug, we catch up. Not awkward. Nice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:44 </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Find out there's no real booze at the wedding. Only wine and beer. Fuck.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:45</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Realized I neglected to bring flask. FUUUUUUUUCK!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:46</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frantically waving friend (who has two kids under the age of 6), knowing the serious nature of my situation immediately offers to help me find booze in the house. I make a mental note to add her to the I.C.E. contact list on my phone because clearly, this girl knows <i>exactly</i> what needs to be done in an emergency.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:56</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Find Kirkland brand vodka and diet tonic. I feel like I have won the lottery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7:16</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friends' drunk dad jokingly grinds against me while I hug him hello. Happy that I seem to be getting a lot of action tonight but am still slightly disturbed by the humping dad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7:20</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another friend finds me and tells me how she found herself sitting behind Todd Smith during the ceremony. "Can you believe the irony??" she asks, I am unable to see the irony and ask, "What, did you date him or something?". She looked at me for a second, probably to see if I was drunk, joking or just stupid and says, incredulously, "I was <u>MARRIED</u> to him!". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sadly, I was not drunk and I was not joking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8:40</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tall guy reads text from grandma, the big kid is having troubles with her asthma. Tall guy calls his mom, she is stressed, but kids seem ok as they can be heard in the background being obnoxious (an hour after bedtime). Probably high on gummy bears and trashing the place Keith Moon style.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8:50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally find Todd Smith (ex husband #2 if you're keeping score) and give him a hug, catch up. He looks exactly the same. And he still has a really, really long.....set of eyelashes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, seriously, he does. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And his cock is HUGE.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9:00</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Communication error between stressed Tall Guy and irresponsible, buzzed wife finds me ride-less, sober and very far from home. Tall guy on his way to pick up sick kid and awake sister to take them home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9:01 </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not in the mood to drink now, feeling bad Tall Guy has to deal with sick/cranky kids solo. Make plans to spend night with dear friend Kathy that lives a couple blocks away and is also at the reception. Tall Guy will pick me up in the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11:01</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mood changes, I decide to go ahead and get drunk (Mistake #1)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1:00 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At Kathy's house, no diet tonic, only cranberry juice. I pour my first vodka and cranberry even though cranberry juice always upsets my stomach the next day </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Mistake #2)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1:15 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Polish off some delicious chicken curry Kathy warmed up </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Mistake #3). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1:45 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kathy throws some pork ribs in the oven, tells me they "only take 45 minutes". For some reason, I think this is a reasonable thing to do at almost 2 o'clock in the morning </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Mistake #4)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1:47 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frozen chocolate chip cookie dough discovered in freezer and it just seems logical that we bake and eat these along with the short ribs </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Mistake #5)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2:15 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We lay, propped up on pillows in in her king bed covered in plates full of empty ribs and cookie crumbs. It looks like a crime scene. I finish my second vodka and cranberry. We watch an old episode of Breaking Bad (<u>Not a mistake</u>. That show is fucking awesome.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2:30 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We realize we are fucked as our synchronized hang overs begin to kick in. We raid the children's ibuprofen and take about 16 chewable tablets each (First Smart Thing I've Done All Night )</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:30 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wake up feeling like shit. I alternate between sitting on the toilet and walking around the house with a Tupperware bowl, just in case shit starts to get real in a hurry. I spend most of my</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> time on the toilet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6:45 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Am annoyed with Allure magazine because it is fucking stupid. Prefer finer literature for extended toilet visits. Mental note to leave a good magazine behind next time I'm here in case my husband forgets me at another party and I wind up eating short ribs and pooping like crazy over here again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know that a recurrence of this situation is not as unlikely as it seems like it should be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7:00 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I break guest bathroom toilet. I don't know how it happened. The water is just not refilling the bowl. It's as if it were turned off. I consider checking to see if the water thingy located on the wall beneath the bowl magically turned itself off since the last time I pooped (about 7 minutes earlier) but decide I am physically incapable of bending down at that moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7:11 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Decide to move matters to the kids bathroom. As I flush, I hear the chain inside the tank break. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MOTHER FUCKER!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9:00 -10 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kathy wakes up and very kindly drives me 30+ miles home so the tall guy doesn't have to schlep sick kids across town.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">11:30 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make lunch for kids. Take a handful of various poop and headache meds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12:00 pm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling much better. Trying to decide on what we should make for dinner. Cannot get ribs off my mind </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Probably Future Mistake #6)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-80592358919231507382012-10-06T13:39:00.001-07:002012-11-12T20:24:30.437-08:00More News on Franklin the F*ck Up<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank god I found this!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It helped confirm to me that yes, Franklin the tortoise is a fuck up that he is, in fact, a pussy (kindly pointed out to me by </span><a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/">http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/</a> )<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It also opened my eyes up to that suspicious McStuffin family. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a must read for all parents because it will help you understand what the hell is going on in pre-pre school pop culture that you have become familiar with the past few years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are not a parent and you know these shows, may God help you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, it's Saturday and you are hung-over and the kids have been fucking with you all day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And lets face it, you need a nap but you're not going to get one. You may as well read this and at least you'll have a laugh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check it out!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/2012/07/what-hell-is-wrong-with-kids-shows-part.html?spref=bl">Something Clever 2.0: What the Hell is Wrong With Kids' Shows?? (Part 2)...</a>: About 8 months ago, I wrote What the Hell is Wrong With Kids' Shows?? (Part 1) . Now that my kid is a little older, and watching some new ...<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheers!</span><br />
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-65051851174496164842012-10-04T21:39:00.002-07:002012-11-22T08:48:15.593-08:00Elf on the Shelf or Demon Near the Ceiling? You Decide.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In retrospect, telling our three year old daughter that there would be a small, magical creature living in one or more rooms of the house, <i>watching her every move</i> was probably not the best idea. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me go back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year, one day in December,I heard (from three separate friends) about The Elf on the Shelf. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What the hell is an Elf on the Shelf?", thought the living-in-a-cultural-vacuum me of December 2011.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A quick email to a friend with a kid told me what (because of my inexperience with social norms), I was missing out on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And at that <i>exact</i> moment, I decided that our home </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MUST </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">HAVE </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AN </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ELF.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those of you as uninformed as I was, let me explain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Elf on the Shelf is a little elf-y doll that comes with a book. It's a Christmas-y story about how this random elf will show up<u> <i>in</i> <i>your house</i></u>, unannounced, on a shelf some morning near Christmas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Elf will then stare, glassy-eyed at the children of the house from high upon a shelf top and observe. Just <i>observe</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That very night, the Elf will go back to the North Pole and report his observations to the Big Man. The Elf will return before daylight, <i>to a different spot in the house</i>, where he will do the same thing all over again. By Christmas eve, Santa will basically have a complete background check on every minor in the family. The book advises that the children <i>not </i>play with the Elf. It also states that although the kids can talk to the Elf, the Elf will not talk back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Creepy, no? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't think so at the time but hindsight now tells me otherwise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To this day, I have no idea what came over me but once I knew exactly what a shelf Elf was, I knew that I could not spend another Christmas without one. I went to the big-box type book store a couple miles away but the Elf was sold out. In fact, the Elf/book ensemble was sold out at ALL 20 or so locations of three different chain bookstores in a city of 1.5 million people. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you f*cking kidding me?!? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually, I ordered it online and paid extra for rushed delivery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Elf on the Shelf book/Elf kit arrived on December 20th, two days before our move to a new home across town. I couldn't wait to read the story to our nearly four-year old in our New Home, introduce her to the Elf and start our very own, First Family Tradition!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The evening we closed on the house was spent eating pizza on the living room floor of the new place. When the kids weren't looking, I hid the Elf on a high, built-in shelf in the corner of the room. I brought out the book and read it to the kids- they loved it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of the book, I knowingly asked, "Do you want an elf to live in our house with you?" the big kid nodded slowly. The little one had no idea what I was talking about and was running around throwing pizza crust to or at the dog. She's like that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Let's look around and see if we have an elf!", I exclaimed. I ignored the fact that the big kid reeeally didn't seem all that into the idea- I knew she'd eventually come around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, the kid turned her head all the way around, her eyes looking up towards where the Elf lay in wait. She paused for a moment and then threw herself face first into the blanket we were sitting on. She did not cry. She did not beg for the Elf to go away. She was silent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Do you see the Elf somewhere?" I said, still <strike>ignoring </strike> <strike>delusional</strike> <strike>oblivious</strike> unaware that this kid was scared shitless.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kid sat up, saucer-eyed, "No!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "Are you suuuuuure?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid: "No!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: (pointing towards the corner shelf) "What about right ov...."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, although I ordered an adorable little doll designed to enhance a wonderful holiday experience</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxmSV2uJDM_QlsBBiHzLMemPA5-vBLCw_gBbnpfsIphq867m_mV157RiA00s2NnTpV97o9GMvPCf6aQeC1ZraeAsuns_j4qXsfKC1UvrYBOL5B2qpD7FD5hCAZjjA8XARA4_xZrKCmHE/s1600/Nice+Shelf+Elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxmSV2uJDM_QlsBBiHzLMemPA5-vBLCw_gBbnpfsIphq867m_mV157RiA00s2NnTpV97o9GMvPCf6aQeC1ZraeAsuns_j4qXsfKC1UvrYBOL5B2qpD7FD5hCAZjjA8XARA4_xZrKCmHE/s320/Nice+Shelf+Elf.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The angelic Shelf Elf I ordered</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wound up with something that would perhaps ruin my daughter's Christmas for many more years to come. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point I get the much-deserved 'look' from my husband and so I say, "It's ok honey, we'll ask the Elf to go away" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me to Elf: "We don't really need an elf this year, thanks! Can you please go back to the North Pole?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid: (crickets chirping in the background as she slowly begins to recover from her catatonic state)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "...but you can come back next year!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tall guy: (the 'look' again)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "Ok, never mind Elf. Just probably go back to the North Pole and help Santa. We don't really want you here. Sorry about this. Bye!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kid: Silent, laying face down on blanket again</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While she was still passed out from anxiety, the tall guy quickly got up, ran across the room, grabbed the elf from the shelf and ran to hide it in another room. He did not need to run. The kid was still face down when he came back 30 seconds later.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UaaeDOG1u_Mio8rrHBDMO4f_SPPB7xHCn1_371ubN3J21bohPknjPllIVBdhpxibKkUm8nBuoJ7OkI_yg1Ry7dfpJ-QxCsx72zS4mav1FfoymUicLkZ5zX6ZWYyyuyyRL30b3XzMPfg/s1600/Creepy+Shelf+Elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UaaeDOG1u_Mio8rrHBDMO4f_SPPB7xHCn1_371ubN3J21bohPknjPllIVBdhpxibKkUm8nBuoJ7OkI_yg1Ry7dfpJ-QxCsx72zS4mav1FfoymUicLkZ5zX6ZWYyyuyyRL30b3XzMPfg/s320/Creepy+Shelf+Elf.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The creepy Shelf Elf my daughter saw</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We moved in on December 22nd and the girls adjusted to their new rooms and surroundings pretty well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until December 23rd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were driving home from preschool when the big one brought up the elf. I told her not to worry, he would not be back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>This</i> year- but maybe next year.... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(I <span style="font-size: large;">KNOW</span>. <i>What the hell is <b>wrong</b> with me</i>?? I can't say, honestly. I just really, really wanted the elf thing to work out for some reason)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So yes, I am now driving down the freeway, less than 48 hours from Christmas with a kid that is totally freaking out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not surprising that she didn't believe me when I tried to convince her that he actually, probably would not show up next year anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nope. Not buying it at all. Trick me once with a creepy elf-creature skulking around my new house, shame on you...Trick me twice, well, still shame on you (you with shitty parenting and lacking in good judgement skills, that is). Nor was she</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> buying it when I told her I'd write a letter, send an email or a text, to the North Pole. Nothing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Crap.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had a plan to fix this but I couldn't reach the tall guy on the phone so I called my sister.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: "Hey, what's up?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "You busy?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: "No. Just driving. Why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: (in very loud voice) "Hello, North Pole? I would like to speak with Santa. Right away!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: "Uh...Wha..?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: (in louder, angry voice) "He's busy? Fine. I'll speak with Mrs. Claus then!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: "Oh."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "We do NOT want an elf at our house this year! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(now yelling</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) <b>DO YOU UN-DER-STAND ME???</b> WE DO NOT WANT AN ELF! <b>EVER!!!</b>"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: (apparently to whoever was in car with her) "What time do we need to get there by...uh-huh...ok..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: "Thank you very much, Mrs. Claus. You have a merry Christmas"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sister: "Glad I could help. Merry Christmas to you too!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And we did have a merry Christmas a couple days later, the elf and story book safely tucked away (along with my dream of a family Christmas tradition<i>), </i>on a shelf high above the washing machine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That dream haunts me almost daily as I do the laundry for four very dirty people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now it's October.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's getting near that time again....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She's almost five now....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh yes, you know I'm thinking about it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yes, someone needs to stop me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-4050407190607731262012-10-04T09:44:00.002-07:002012-11-12T20:23:03.906-08:00Franklin the F*ck Up<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you seen Franklin, the cartoon about a stupid little tortoise?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He looks nothing like this but I don't know about copy write laws and blogs and stuff yet.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbinoZc3yafnzKoEwywasiu43Lx6TR8tEv33e5fPZrgVV4V40e7SiVJ0UgyMaJhaIJTIF8VD94Q4tiH4J5R0ID6cN9qFJOr7ZpFZg0_Bv4TdFO8ZF3K-P5nQqpiqA_3pliJA0AUcZCu1I/s1600/turtle+drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbinoZc3yafnzKoEwywasiu43Lx6TR8tEv33e5fPZrgVV4V40e7SiVJ0UgyMaJhaIJTIF8VD94Q4tiH4J5R0ID6cN9qFJOr7ZpFZg0_Bv4TdFO8ZF3K-P5nQqpiqA_3pliJA0AUcZCu1I/s320/turtle+drawing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the answer is No, then clearly you do not own a child under the age of five or you don't have the Nick Jr. channel or both.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At any rate, it's a good thing because this little turtle is a total fuck up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every episode involves him either blowing off some responsibility</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or not knowing the basics about modern American culture.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example, Franklin did not water Mr. Rabbit's petunias (even though he was </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">specifically asked to</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">)</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and went out to play instead. Or the time Franklin had NO CLUE about a major American kid phenomenon, The Tooth Fairy. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mean, what kind of kid- tortoise or not- has never even <i>heard</i> of the Tooth Fairy?? I don't give a shit if tortoises don't have teeth- I don't have a prostate but I know about the cancer that winds up there in most people's Grandpa's, for Christ's sake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This has me in a bit of a tizzy because my kids really love the show and I typically don't mind them watching one or two half-hour shows a day (it allows me time to do necessary household chores...or write this blog) but I feel like I'm doing them a disservice by letting them watch this loser tortoise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am starting to think this tortoise kid is retarded- NOT that there is ANYTHING at all wrong with retarded tortoises- I just don't know if Franklin is </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1) representative of his species </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2) a good role model for my children </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3) being pervy when he takes his shell off (yes, he took it off at his doctor appointment) and runs around all neked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And besides the fact that tortoises cannot talk or ride a bicycle in real life, as a biologist and former zoo keeper, I find it ridiculous that Franklin can take his shell off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Piss off, Franklin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-25680327006115566212012-09-30T09:45:00.002-07:002012-11-12T20:22:14.385-08:00You Can't Leave...All the Plants Will Die!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even in high school, I always knew that I would say the same things to my kids one day as my parents said to me growing up. I grew up with just my dad and he was about ten years older than most dads and so most of his quotes were those that were popular in the 30s or 40s. Think, "cat's pajamas" , "don't be a wise guy", "nice peepers" , "don't take any wooden nickels", that kind of stuff.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I'm not sure when or why it happened but I used a Bill Murray quote from <i>Stripes</i> to <strike>force my f-ing kids to move their asses</strike> give my kids some encouragement to get into the car faster so I could make it to a class at the gym <u>on time</u> for a change.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAd69do-aeyPjYcWXuBuNaoAkoh2RoJ_WWOpBSf1OKrf4Q9JF8IG2zhOzduAErCIbwnGT4upAekH4kgM0Lsq9f7xXniGxigySQNTEFSiTA6vrgZsP0q0PVlgo77g8-nCxLMHVFjr_Y-Y/s1600/Bill+Murray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAd69do-aeyPjYcWXuBuNaoAkoh2RoJ_WWOpBSf1OKrf4Q9JF8IG2zhOzduAErCIbwnGT4upAekH4kgM0Lsq9f7xXniGxigySQNTEFSiTA6vrgZsP0q0PVlgo77g8-nCxLMHVFjr_Y-Y/s320/Bill+Murray.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I WANT YOU" (as long as you are over 18)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't remember in what context I yelled, <b>"THAT'S THE FACT, JACK!" </b>but somehow it worked. Even though it was a funny line in one of the best movies ever, I yelled it in a kinda mean way in response to one of the kids demanding to know why we had to go to the gym that day. After I yelled it, the kid's got that quiet look on their faces that said, "Oh shit, Mom's about to lose it!" and they scurried like cockroaches in the direction of the car. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the thing is- I was not pissed! Quoting that line for no explicable reason for the first time in my life kinda made me smile on the inside and sorta brought me to a cool, calm place. There, for a brief moment I was able to fantasize (as I'd done many times as a way-too-young-to-be-fantasizing-about-men-in-their-mid-thirties girl) about hot Bill Murray from the early 1980s. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so the next day, again, something came over me while the little fat kid was trying to sneakily eat crackers on the couch. I had told her "No" a couple of times but she was basically ignoring me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, I yelled, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKp6rFor1jTi-LgmneT-ymPQa9AtI4KJ4DfhEk6CtiUoi_WmABtsLt1wNkDtZhPDEJ1sw4NR9mbXoS-gCwDzZmU928SHf0lremfaQvVdr64hRzemwuWGxCwpgNpuR2tyF63AOtTliNT4/s1600/You-cant-handle-the-truth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKp6rFor1jTi-LgmneT-ymPQa9AtI4KJ4DfhEk6CtiUoi_WmABtsLt1wNkDtZhPDEJ1sw4NR9mbXoS-gCwDzZmU928SHf0lremfaQvVdr64hRzemwuWGxCwpgNpuR2tyF63AOtTliNT4/s320/You-cant-handle-the-truth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, guess who moved their ass and their crackers off the couch?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's right, Jack Nicolas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, not really, but she seemed just as surprised at that moment as he probably was when he learned that Shelly Duvall was going to play his beautiful wife in <i>The Shining.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAaxWFsE2AOUpjrgjFNh_2JIPpprXKbdTAsCtvsS3Jtsc7mtvGLdXXeq1ltvO3V5ZFY4urSRr9p25zmJMY1GWNsfsYoS9ivQ-R-0P7Xx0Xb_cYtmhrtXb5X_cMFXjsUUHBPZdAXvxIoI/s1600/shelley+duvall+shining.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAaxWFsE2AOUpjrgjFNh_2JIPpprXKbdTAsCtvsS3Jtsc7mtvGLdXXeq1ltvO3V5ZFY4urSRr9p25zmJMY1GWNsfsYoS9ivQ-R-0P7Xx0Xb_cYtmhrtXb5X_cMFXjsUUHBPZdAXvxIoI/s320/shelley+duvall+shining.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So now I've decided I can use movie quotes to help me <strike>frighten</strike> encourage the kids to listen to me, no matter how out of context the quote because the kids obviously are not keeping up with the pop culture of the 80s or 90s. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Plus, pretty much anything I yell at them scares the shit out of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dumb-asses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cute, sweet little dumb-asses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Currently accepting suggestions for out of context quotes from old movies that can be used to scare my kids into doing things while lightening my mood.......</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-70720647531444693842012-09-30T08:54:00.001-07:002012-11-12T20:21:21.378-08:00My Butt Has Come into Question<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was actually able to find a picture of me running.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This picture has not been doctored at all- this is really the look I have on my face when I run.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWf8_KwOeYlnmk24H67bFVgqWDhFlw_5c5Zo_t9V2S1_zwR0NuLwV4NjI4nTJF-WBatilJWgku8KWqrokjbnMHRW3uxVVwHa8Gq62TyNQ4Ai40617cyMbWc5fRMDHuPqvHLUJBmIK9ML8/s1600/GRINCH+jogging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWf8_KwOeYlnmk24H67bFVgqWDhFlw_5c5Zo_t9V2S1_zwR0NuLwV4NjI4nTJF-WBatilJWgku8KWqrokjbnMHRW3uxVVwHa8Gq62TyNQ4Ai40617cyMbWc5fRMDHuPqvHLUJBmIK9ML8/s320/GRINCH+jogging.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now you know why I run.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because, obviously, I'm bringing sexy back.</span></div>
A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427664551487364908.post-46856654139519065702012-09-29T13:27:00.002-07:002012-11-12T20:20:19.146-08:00Why I Got Naked for My Childhood Friend<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After being head-butted this morning by an enormous toddler noggin for the ten millionth time since 2008 I began to think of how many injuries I've sustained <strike>since</strike> because of having children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided I needed to compile an injury list to include some of the more "dangerous" activities I've been involved with as an adult. This might help me see if I made good life choices when I decided my marathon days were over and a career working with zoo animals was no longer for me.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Injuries Sustained During Marathon Training/Biking to Work and </u></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Treatments </u></span><u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Required to Remedy</u></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Plantar fasciitis</b>- Ice, Elevation and Ibuprofen 3 x daily. Repeated every 2-3 years when injury undoubtedly recurred because of training like an idiot (or like someone without a chronic, recurring injury they should have been worried about)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>ITB syndrome</b>- </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stretching iliotibial band while standing in line at the grocery store looking like a weird lady that really needed to pee</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Sunburn</b>- No treatment needed. Simply enjoyed the "base tan" produced on my normally pasty/pale complexion</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Sunburn induced Age spots on once milky white complexion on "average looks" face</b>- Visited childhood friend, (now a dermatologist) to have age spots chemically burned off of flesh <i>after</i> the surprising, "mole check" that was required and stripping down so childhood friend could look at every inch of my naked body with a magnifying glass</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Loss of big toe nail</b>- Went thong-less for 11 months. AND did not wear flip flops for nearly a year as well! Heh, heh, heh</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Shin splints</b>- see treatment for plantar fasciitis</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Stress fracture & Morton's neuroma in foot</b>- Surgical removal of nerve (that eventually grows back). Had to wear one of those stupid shoe things that wound up stinking big-time</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Getting ass grabbed by local pervert while riding to work</b>- No serious injury sustained. Late for work, broken headphones and post traumatic stress that makes me think everyone is a potential, ass-grabby pervert</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Teenage boy yelling, "FAT ASS!!!" from car driving past me while jogging</b>- Quiet humiliation and sad realization that I may always have a kinda fat ass, despite all the running. Treatment readily found in any type of bottle available in the house</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Injuries Sustained from Large, Dangerous or Venomous Animals During 10 Years Working at a Zoo and Treatments </u></span><u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Required to Remedy</u></b><br />
<b><u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></u></b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Scrapes and Embarrassment</b>- This occurred while walking past a "tame" adult Ostrich while on my way to retrieve a pacifier dropped into the front of the Ostrich exhibit (Why the hell a parent would want that pacifier- that may or may not have been sitting in ostrich poo- to put back in the mouth of their baby? I have no fucking idea). The ostrich decided to kick me and my sympathetic nervous system decided to jump into the nearest bush, causing scratches, much to the delight of the child waiting at the front of the exhibit with his parents, causing the subsequent embarrassment</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Allergies</b>- Sneezing. Kept a dozen Kleenix around in all pockets of zoo-issue cargo pants for six weeks. Had to remove disintegrated Kleenix parts from "clean" laundry for about eight weeks</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Bruises</b>- To legs while restraining live animals that don't want blood taken from them via a very large needle. Also, to ego when unable to restrain pig, peacock, squirrel monkey </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">successfully for veterinarian</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Boredom</b>- Again, not a real injury but certainly a hazard on the job if it is your job to wait for the 100 year old tortoise to finish his antibiotic-laced strawberry</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Injuries Sustained While Living with Small, Dangerous Children and/or Babies and <strike>Humiliation</strike> <strike>Morally Questionable</strike> Treatments </u></span><u style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Required to Remedy</u></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Bruises</b>- Sustained from bites when baby/child discovers that<i> </i>they <i>have</i> teeth and/or can use teeth to piss you off. Treated with Benadryl (ensured child was asleep quickly and so was able to get at least three drinks into me after kid's bedtime)</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sleep deprivation</b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Causes low patience and consistent poor decision making in regards to personal hygiene and fashion. This condition is chronic, lasting for years. It is also irreversible as far as I can tell</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Torn Rotator Cuff</b>- Sustained after lifting big-ass baby in and out of crib for 1 year. Surgery required for repair. And lots of drugs. Lots and lots of drugs</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Serious Constipation Due to Overuse of Pain Pills After Shoulder Surgery</b>- Layed on floor of friend's cabin where I went "to get a break from it all" while trying to read directions on enema package. Did not enjoy the weekend <i>at all</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Emergency C-Section to Remove Giant, Stuck Baby #1</b>- All hopped up on sweet-ass epidural and stuff so don't really remember</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Scheduled C-Section to Remove Giant Baby #2</b>- Totally remember this because it TOTALLY SUCKED getting an epidural sans "sweet-ass" drugs to make me not care that they were stabbing me over and over again in my back</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>Conclusion</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is obvious that the physical tolls and risks of being near, working with and/or birthing children far outweigh any other activity that I have ever participated in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not so obvious, though still true, having a two year old climb into our bed at 7 am saying, "Cockadoodle-doo, Mommy!" while gently prying one of my eyelids open with her fat thumbs is a benefit that far outweighs that of any job I've had or marathon I've ever run.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, the emotional toll of being near, working with and/or birthing children has yet to be determined and is likely to result in irreparable, psychological damage.</span>
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<br />A Girl Named Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02337474490479263989noreply@blogger.com3