Wednesday, June 25, 2008

What is it about Elmo?

Why do kids go nuts for this redheaded monster? I don't get it. And why the hell does Elmo refer to himself in the third person? Elmo is an egocentric little bastard, according to my husband. I responded to that statement by saying that children in general are egocentric little bastards, so they must be able to relate to him well.
Anyway, Elmo - yeah, he is annoying as hell. BUT he he sure is a lifesaver when you have a grouchy kid. Alex can be tossing himself on the floor, kicking his feet, being a nasty little specimen and if he hears that squeaky voice he'll freeze and then race to the source eyes wide and smiling.
We went to a strawberry festival this weekend, and Elmo was there - well, not the real Elmo, I'm assuming he isn't as tall, and probably talks more than this one did - and Alex was HORRIFIED. I mean, clawing at our legs to be picked up, eyes wide, mouth open - apparently Elmo has his place in Alex's reality, and that place is 2 dimensional and surrounded by black plastic.
Can you imagine how freaky that must be for kids, to see these characters from tv out and about? Personally I am not a fan of people in costume, even Santa - it's just not right. Some things belong only in my imagination, assisted by electronics - when those lines are blurred all hell could break loose. One day I could be walking along minding my own business and suddenly see a gigantic man-sized purple teddy bear covered in spikes, smoking a cigarette sitting on the front steps and swearing at me or something - you never know where it stops.
Okay, I've gotten off track here... what was I talking about? What a bunch of nonsense.

Kids and dogs

do all kids enjoy animal torture, or is mine a budding serial killer? I just caught a glimpse of him running after the dog w/ a toy golf club in his hand, swinging maniacally and laughing with glee.
Poor Scout jumps when the wind blows now... Alex seems to really enjoy the feel of Scout's flesh being twisted in his hands, and his ears - oh so tuggable. Scout is a good dog - he takes it, for the most part, with a doggy smile, content to receive any kind of attention - even abuse.
Of course Scout is always where Alex is, and vice versa - I think Scout just trails the baby waiting for random snacks, and Alex thinks Scout is just the best thing ever. A stress reliever, a toy, a friend, all in one compact little furry body. How great is that?
Probably 2 or 3 times a day we have to separate them, let Scout go decompress somewhere like a veteran returning from a war, one where attacks are swift and come out of the blue and are delivered via unexpected and imaginative items. A roll of toilet paper - would you think that could be a weapon? Well it can. Just ask Scout. Hand to hand combat is hard when you don't have thumbs, so Scout is just screwed all around.
If I want Alex to leave someplace he doesn't feel like leaving, all I have to say is 'do you want to go see your doggy?' and he'll leave willingly. If he's cranky waking up from a nap I can bring Scoutie in his room with me and there's a smile.
And seriously - my hoover has nothing on Scout. What fabulous, previously undiscovered cleaning skills this dog has.
We love our doggy.

Packing to leave the house

I am a serious over-packer. Like, bad. We could be going to the supermarket and I'll bring food and clothing and entertainment for 2 days, minimum. When we go up to my parents for the day I bring this massive bag that I got from LL Bean - easily the biggest bag I've ever seen - and it is crammed full of things. Now this isn't all Alex's fault. I like to blame it on him, but I've always been this way.
We're going away for a week at the beginning of August - mind you, it's still 5 weeks away - and I've already started my list. There are things I want to buy - hang on, I just remembered something else - things I want to not use until then, things I need to order, you get the idea... we're going to need to rent a u-haul to go. We'll need to rent a trailer for Glenn's books alone, then you add mine, Alex's...
oh, and Scout can't come with us. So I'll need to pack his bags too, so he can go stay with auntie for the week. It'll be a nice vacation for him too.
Back to my list... I love lists.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I had a request

from a friend to discuss what an asshole fat-free dressing is. Until she pointed it out, I had never given it a lot of thought - but since my friend's diet consists largely of these big huge obscene salads covered in everything you could ever dream of on a salad (which, coincidentally, renders said salad completely unhealthy and in fact quite fattening), I consider her something of an expert.
Fat-free salad dressing: you are a mother fucker. You tout yourself as a tasty, more healthy version of your cholesterol and saturated fat laden cousin when in fact you are a shadow of flavor, a sort of salad glaze rather than a proper dressing. I think the worst offender may be bleu cheese - fat free bleu cheese is certainly a joke played on us health-conscious consumers, perpetrated by advertising assholes who realize that the majority of us are willing to buy into the myth.
Fuck you fat free dressing, I hate you. Don't waste my time.
And for that matter, I'm all set with sugar free candy too - that is some bullshit if I've ever seen bullshit.


Somebody recently asked me how often I vacuum the inside of my couch. What the fuck? Why would I do something asinine like that? If NOTHING else, that is my go-to place for change and pens. Where would I store my quarters and barrettes and small toys? And why the hell would I waste precious time out of my life vacuuming something that never ever sees the light of day?
Now, don't get me wrong - I'm not a total slob. I'm maybe 35% slob. (which has decreased from like 60% slob 4 years ago) But seriously, what a colossal waste of time. That, in my mind, is akin to washing walls (walls - why??) on a regular basis, or cleaning underneath my obnoxiously heavy couch.
I should also mention that my son has a pathological fear of the vacuum cleaner, and my dog is convinced it is something that needs to be torn to bloody shreds of rubber and plastic. It's really a big ordeal that involves getting everyone out of the house to avoid major trauma.
I can live with 35% slob - if you can't, then don't come to my house. But look at it this way: I am spending 25% more of my time doing other, less menial things than a 10%-er. I have more fun than really clean people, in other words.

By the way,

not all crayola markers have washable ink.
Just thought I'd share that.

Monday - BAHHHHH

Why do Mondays suck so bad? They suck almost as bad as Sundays. I hate Sundays too - they're depressing, and I can't figure out why. Last night I was ready for the weekend to be over by dinner time, ready for my week to start. That doesn't make any sense to me. I can't seem to enjoy myself in the moment, I'm always thinking - whether it's dread or excitment - about what is coming. Such a waste.
Anyway, today Alex and I are going to walk to the supermarket and I have decided I am going to perfect making Chicken Marsala this week. If I have to make this shit 5 times, I am going to - I need a specialty. We'll probaby go and check out the cool kids fountain at Bradley Palmer later on, I want to organize our bedroom today... in other words, I'm not really doing anything today.
I had a dream the other night that I had graduated from Veterinary School and gotten a job I was really excited about, and I woke up bummed out. It's odd little glimpses into my subconscious like this that makes me wonder when I am going to freak out at the lack of personal direction my life has. Maybe I won't - who knows. I love staying home with Alex, I feel lucky - both that I get to raise him personally rather than partially by proxy, and that I just don't have to get up and go to work. There is no time like summer to be psyched I don't have to wrestle my thighs into dressy clothes and go sit behind a desk all day, other than fall and winter and spring that is.
It's just that my brain is getting bored. And I do not care what anyone says, toddlers - aside from being cute and fun - are pretty intellectually boring. Yeah yeah yeah, discovering new things, viewing the world through the eyes of a child - that shit is lovely. We all know that. However it doesn't replace an adult's need for adult pursuits, unfettered by diaper bags and nap times. So we'll see. If I weren't so goddamned lazy I'd write, or do something creative that I absolutely have time for.
But I am, so instead I'll organize closets and watch time slip by so quickly...
Mondays suck.

Monday, June 16, 2008


Isn't it so easy to get caught up in the action of Ebay? I caught myself involved in a heated bidding war over a pair of salt and pepper shakers that looked like sneakers today, and was into it for way more than my rational self would have approved of before I realized what was going on. Now before you go thinking I was just randomly bidding on things let me tell you I have a rather impressive collection of salt and pepper shakers, if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself. Today I added a pair of crabs and some vegetables to my collections, oh happy day!
Otherwise I don't collect anything. Except books, and shoes I suppose - but I am not compulsive about shoes, I just don't ever get rid of them. I probably have over 50 pairs of shoes, but really wear maybe 4 or 5 pairs. I can't get rid of them, they all have a memory attached - the horribly uncomfortable white ones I wore to my wedding that made me pretty much a cripple for the first 2 days of my honeymoon - how could I get rid of those? But I will surely never wear them again. The stinky black heels that were the only things my fat pregnant feet would cooperate with for work - can't lose those. The flip flops that saw me through 3 summers but now feel almost like bare feet - and not in a good way, pavement gets hot - way too many memories and beers spilled on those suckers. Oh and those super cute paisely sandals I got on sale that are like wearing boards strapped on by fishing wire - fucking ridiculously uncomfortable, but really nice looking. Yes, my shoes are safe from the threat of downsizing.
My books - they too are integral members of our family. I reread books, so they all have a chance at future usefulness. But if my books were people, we'd be leaving a serious ecological footprint behind us. Hardbacks, paperbacks, pretty books, beach books, I love them all. I have to actually talk myself down when I see signs psted around town for book sales. I want to roll around naked in a pile of books a la' Demi Moore.
Glenn is as bad as I am, if not worse - his books are all important, meaningful, don't let Alex touch them books that are expensive and have shiny pages and beautiful illustrations and good 'reference material' - Glenn has a serious book collection. Mine are friends, his are colleagues.
Alex has his own collection too, although his treatment of them leaves a little to be desired. He has this one book - well, it's half a book now, the cover and first few pages met with a tragic toilet accident a while back - that makes him laugh as soon as he sees it. I got it at a book sale - see?? - so I can't replace it. We love books here in this house. If we ever ask you to help us move, say no - 70% of the boxes are filled with books.

I'm sorry bloggie-blog :- (

My poor, malnourished blog, I have neglected you for far too long. I am sorry, I will rectifiy that immediately. I have so many things that have been annoying me, interesting me, amusing me lately that I don't know where to start.
Lets see... my last week has been occupied with snot removal - I have developed a technique that I think is very effective, and should probably be studied and emulated worldwide. I squeeze the snot sucker, stick it in, and then as it is doing it's job I give it a little wiggle back and forth, up and down, and skippy-do - out come the boogies. Yes, my son has been sick with one of those nasty colds that makes his upper lip shiny and his little voice sound funny. I feel bad for the poor guy, he keeps pointing at his nose and grunting - since he is basically a cave man with only slighty better language comprehension skills - and getting angry when I don't do my signature move w/ the snot sucker. He's been keeping me on my toes lately, Alex has...
we got him this tricycle that I had been obsessing over for months, and I swear he feels like King Shit when he is being pushed around on it. He grips the handle bars with panache, occasionally leans over with his elbow on the back of the seat and twists around and looks at us, as if to say 'faster, Jeeves, I have an appointment to keep'. He surveys those he passes with a slightly mocking look on his face, obviously feeling superior compared to all the second-rate means of transportation he sees passing him. He screeches here and there with glee, it pops out before he can catch it and totally ruins the 'I'm too cool for school' thing he has going.
I want to get an alarm for this thing. I want to put it on our car insurance policy. I want to get the optional basket that hangs on the handle bars (even though there is this super cool dump thing in the back) and I want to get the little bell so he can announce his arrival to his loyal subjects. This tricycle is better - so much better - than my first car.
Ahhh - my first car. The jeuvo. It was a manilla folder colored - or egg colored, depending on the observer and the light source, hence 'juevo' - 1983 Nissan Sentra. That car was a flaming piece of shit, and was a constant source of embarassment. Of course it got me from point A to point B - with no style at all I might add - for a couple of years, so that part was cool. The tape deck that sat on the floor and was connected to the dashboard by a single wire - not cool. The uncomfortable ass melt your skin ripped naugahyde upholstery - not cool at all. The color - not fucking cool. And you know the most ironic part? My first 'real' car that I got, a Blazer that I paid $223 a month for for 4 years, was the same goddamned color. I didn't pick it, just so you know - it was one of those things that sort of fell into my lap. I sure as shit would not have picked ANOTHER car of that pus-color putridness. Anyway, the Sentra... I maxed out my mother's AAA card with that thing, they actually refused to come. The driver's side windshield wiper would fly off when the wipers were on high - and naturally, when your wipers are on high is when you really need them the most. I drove home from college for winter break during a blizzard, with my arm out the drivers window wiping the windshield every 15 seconds with a squeegee I stole from a gas station somewhere on the turnpike. I think I twitched for 2 hours after I got home, I was so tense. I had to have the heat on high all the time, or the damn thing would overheat the second the speed dropped below 25 mph.
Anyway, what was I talking about... oh yeah, nothing in particular. Business as usual.
I won't forget you again Blog, I promise.