Yeah, okay. So the magic that we all felt on that first Christmas in our memory (the one with the surprises under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, family, the smell of turkey roasting and the thought that life was so incredibly wonderful to have all these presents...and...and.....yeah - that memory) is hard to find as an adult.
There is no real joy in wrapping Christmas gifts. Buying them is fun, but I find that even dropping something in the gift bags is tedius. I'm such a lazy wrapper that I put four of my son's small, cheap gadget gifts into one box and wrapped it all together.
I used to think that there was something wrong with my mother. She did not like Christmas. She grumbled about it all the time. I thought she either had a problem with Santa, or she didn't like the baby Jesus, but either way - to NOT like Christmas just seemed - sinful.
And yet, here I am years later making the same grumbles that used to make me gasp when I'd hear her complain. "I hate this time of year." The traffic in the mall parking lot is enough to make me want to scream, not to mention the traffic in the aisles at Wal-Mart! Oy!
Who to buy for, what to buy them, how much to spend. Whose house will we visit? Will they come here? Do I have to cook? Does that mean I have to clean off the dining room table (which we haven't used in at least a year and a half)?
We recently realized that, for the FIRST time in our 18 years of marriage, we won't be getting up Christmas morning, rushing our kids through their santa/stocking gifts while the green bean casserole heats up in the oven and then rushing over to hubby's parents to spend Christmas with that side of the family. Nor, will we be making the long drive to Kansas on Christmas Eve-Eve early morning after I've spent an entire night doing laundry (because I haven't for so long) and packing.
Nope - for the first time, we will be having Christmas at OUR house, with just US. I don't have to make turkey OR green bean casserole. I don't even have to get dressed if I don't wanna! I dont' even have to clear the table; we could eat at the coffee table in front of the t.v. like we usually do. We could.
But, I don't want my kids to have to search for that joy or fun or excitement that Christmas brings. I know it's about the birth of Christ, and all that yada yada yada. I want them to smell the turkey baking as they open their gifts. I want them to feel the grace when we hold hands and say grace at the dining room table and thank the one who made it all happen. Visa.
Okay. I could really stop there, but I can't. My baby girl was born on Christmas day, and whether she thinks it or not, I think it's WONDERFUL that she shares her birthday with the ONE. The ONE for which we celebrate the day in the first place. I thank him daily for my kids, my hubby, and this year, I'll be thanking him for the patience I know he's going to give me to get through the day without extended family.
Merry Christmas and Peace to all!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
And So It begins
My first day on my NANOWRIMO account is listed as a failure because I didn't make it to 2,000 words. Day two is listed as a failure as well because I haven't written anything yet. Lovely feeling.
Couldn't they change that feature to read "Not there yet" or "Mostly There"? It seems self defeating to list me as a failure already on day one. Of course, the other times that I participated in Nanowrimo I didn't finish (or "win" as it's called).
I'm also having trouble keeping myself from "self-editing" as I go, which defeats the purpose.
That said - I probably won't blog about much this November, and if I do - I'm using it in my word count.
Just saying.
Couldn't they change that feature to read "Not there yet" or "Mostly There"? It seems self defeating to list me as a failure already on day one. Of course, the other times that I participated in Nanowrimo I didn't finish (or "win" as it's called).
I'm also having trouble keeping myself from "self-editing" as I go, which defeats the purpose.
That said - I probably won't blog about much this November, and if I do - I'm using it in my word count.
Just saying.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Triple Oh's and Marching Season
When am I ever going to have time to write again? It was pulling teeth to make myself write this blog today.
At work, it's the busiest time of my fall semester, in addition to blowing out some much needed work on my student data base, I've got apps to the program, scanning all our old files to .tiff documents, and the normal program advising stuff.
At home, when I am there (and that certainly isn't often) I either drop into bed from exaustion or scurry about trying to catch up on laundry, house cleaning, etc.
Yeah....none of that is currently getting done, as I could have safely written this entire blog entry with my finger in the dust on the television, piano and entertainment center. Dirty clothes have become my new floor covering; I have even been known to adjust the piles so that none are taller than the other and the colors of whatever items happen to be on top don't clash. The waste basket in the master bath is almost over flowing (I say almost because I occasionally skim off the top and put that into a trash bag...right next to the can). Oh well - at least it hasn't reached a mountainous peak and teetered over into the sink like my son's did once. Hey - I don't hardly ever go upstairs, and anyway, this is not your child!
So, housework can wait. It's the band chaperone thing that is filling my time and my weekends right now. The Viking Band has done SO remarkably well, I really do think they have a chance at going to State. What "being in the band" involves for me is riding the bus with the kids to all the away games and to all the marching competitions (oh and the occasional 'Please do not share a blanket if you are sharing a seat and you are of the opposite sex'). I'm not sure if it's just me, or the fact that I'm older and larger, but didn't buses used to have a lot more room? I think they added more seats to buses without adding any length. Long bus rides when you are Triple Oh's (Old, Overweight, Out-of-Shape) are extremely taxing on this old body. It takes me a good minute just to get down the steps after a long trip and that's not just because it's usually 1:30 a.m. or so.
Last Saturday, accompanied the band to the Waco Regional marching competition. I got up basically four hours after I got home from the Friday night high school football game in Copperas Cove (2:00 a.m.) and even though we made it home at the ripe ole hour of 11:30 p.m. Saturday night, I could not get out of bed until noon Sunday, and even then was only because I had to pee. I could barely lift a finger all day and still have not replenished the groceries in our house.
This week, the band is being instructed and drilled by the 'legendary', Brad Kerr Green, so practice is every evening from 4:30 - 6:30, in which the front ensemble is usually finished putting away their instruments close to 7:00 p.m. and I'm lucky to get home by 7:30 p.m.
What I'm trying to elude to is that I'm just tired. This Saturday, we leave at 5:30 a.m. ish to go to Regionals in San Antonio and likely won't return until 2:00 ish in the morning (Sunday).
How the 'legendary' Janice Clark, head band chaperone for (ever?), does it - the world may never know. I think it's because she doesn't suffer from the Triple Oh's.
I know, I know - I signed up for this. I don't regret it at all. I have a ball at the football games, dancing to the different pieces the band plays, being Pit Mom with my fellow Pit Mommas, Maryann and Susan, playing bus captain for the senior bus, and totally embarassing my daughter. It's a blast, and far more rewarding than any other volunteer work I have ever done.
I just wanted to take this time to explain why my house is a mess....should anybody happen to visit during marching season....
At work, it's the busiest time of my fall semester, in addition to blowing out some much needed work on my student data base, I've got apps to the program, scanning all our old files to .tiff documents, and the normal program advising stuff.
At home, when I am there (and that certainly isn't often) I either drop into bed from exaustion or scurry about trying to catch up on laundry, house cleaning, etc.
Yeah....none of that is currently getting done, as I could have safely written this entire blog entry with my finger in the dust on the television, piano and entertainment center. Dirty clothes have become my new floor covering; I have even been known to adjust the piles so that none are taller than the other and the colors of whatever items happen to be on top don't clash. The waste basket in the master bath is almost over flowing (I say almost because I occasionally skim off the top and put that into a trash bag...right next to the can). Oh well - at least it hasn't reached a mountainous peak and teetered over into the sink like my son's did once. Hey - I don't hardly ever go upstairs, and anyway, this is not your child!
So, housework can wait. It's the band chaperone thing that is filling my time and my weekends right now. The Viking Band has done SO remarkably well, I really do think they have a chance at going to State. What "being in the band" involves for me is riding the bus with the kids to all the away games and to all the marching competitions (oh and the occasional 'Please do not share a blanket if you are sharing a seat and you are of the opposite sex'). I'm not sure if it's just me, or the fact that I'm older and larger, but didn't buses used to have a lot more room? I think they added more seats to buses without adding any length. Long bus rides when you are Triple Oh's (Old, Overweight, Out-of-Shape) are extremely taxing on this old body. It takes me a good minute just to get down the steps after a long trip and that's not just because it's usually 1:30 a.m. or so.
Last Saturday, accompanied the band to the Waco Regional marching competition. I got up basically four hours after I got home from the Friday night high school football game in Copperas Cove (2:00 a.m.) and even though we made it home at the ripe ole hour of 11:30 p.m. Saturday night, I could not get out of bed until noon Sunday, and even then was only because I had to pee. I could barely lift a finger all day and still have not replenished the groceries in our house.
This week, the band is being instructed and drilled by the 'legendary', Brad Kerr Green, so practice is every evening from 4:30 - 6:30, in which the front ensemble is usually finished putting away their instruments close to 7:00 p.m. and I'm lucky to get home by 7:30 p.m.
What I'm trying to elude to is that I'm just tired. This Saturday, we leave at 5:30 a.m. ish to go to Regionals in San Antonio and likely won't return until 2:00 ish in the morning (Sunday).
How the 'legendary' Janice Clark, head band chaperone for (ever?), does it - the world may never know. I think it's because she doesn't suffer from the Triple Oh's.
I know, I know - I signed up for this. I don't regret it at all. I have a ball at the football games, dancing to the different pieces the band plays, being Pit Mom with my fellow Pit Mommas, Maryann and Susan, playing bus captain for the senior bus, and totally embarassing my daughter. It's a blast, and far more rewarding than any other volunteer work I have ever done.
I just wanted to take this time to explain why my house is a mess....should anybody happen to visit during marching season....
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Littleton/Hiney Luck VS. Burch Luck
Yeah, so not everyone in the world is "lucky" enough to experience Burch Luck. I always thought that if you were a friend of a Burch, you would experience Burch Luck, By Association - a new phenomenon.
However, as luck would have it, I was able to experience luck of a different kind recently.
It took place during our third Tom Petty concert in The Woodlands, September 24, 2010. I guess we can call it "Littleton/Hiney" luck because this isn't the kind of luck that I normally have, though it could have gone either way.
Burch luck is where we forget the number of our hotel room so I just check the entry card on every door until the card finally works. . . . on the last door that you try.
So our hotel was a block and a half from a Shell station - a good place in which to buy bottled beverages for before the concert. Cathy Littleton and I trapsed over to the Shell station, purchased some beer (they even had limes! In a GAS STATION!?) and walked back to the hotel. By the time we got there, we were hot and ready for that first beer.
As I'm quickly trying to cut a lime with a partially dull pocket knife we realize that we have nothing with which to open a beer bottle.
Burch luck is where my friends would have actually let me use the sprinkler head to open the bottle. I'm sure it would have worked!
Littleton luck is where you open the door of the hotel room and ask the couple who just happens to be walking by if they have a bottle opener, to which they immediately reply "Yes" and hold one up. WTH?! So they opened our beers for us, told us to stop by anytime and invited us to imbibe with them before the concert (seems like everyone in the hotel was there to see ZZ Top and Tom Petty).
It turns out, that when you mix Littleton Luck with Hiney Luck, you have something close to Burch luck, but not as bad.
While looking for the parking lot, Littleton Luck told Hiney Luck to look for the "GREEN" parking lot, as she was sure that it was the "GREEN" lot that was closest to the pavillion. We spotted a parking lot attendant in a green shirt and whipped a U-turn and made our way in. Turns out, all the Cynthia Woods Pavillion employees wear green. It was actually the "ORANGE" lot we pulled into, but it got us to the concert none-the-less.
Once inside the venue, we decided to buy ice cold beer but were dismayed to find out that they don't serve adult beverages to minors and they CARD EVERYBODY. Only the Hiney brought her ID - and she was the designated driver. Now that IS Burch Luck.
But, it was either Hiney Luck or Littleton Luck that gave us Tom Petty in concert on the night before a throat infection caused him to have to cancel his next two concerts. It definitely wasn't Burch Luck, or we wouldn't have seen him at all. Maybe a combonation of the three that got us only (or should I say AT LEAST) two songs for a standing ovation (rather than the normal four). At least we got American Girl!!
Now, it was MOST DEFINITELY BURCH luck that had us at the back of a long bathroom line when a GREEN shirted Pavilllion attendant told us that the other bathroom had no line at all but when we got there, the line was longer than the first one.
In all - a good weekend. But woe to Gubenatorial candidate Bill White and the guy who was drunkenly campaigning for him; pulling a dachshund and a beer cooler in a wagon yelling at the top of his drunken lungs to "VOTE FOR BILL WHITE FOR GOVERNOR"
He'll need some kind of luck to pull up in this campaign.
However, as luck would have it, I was able to experience luck of a different kind recently.
It took place during our third Tom Petty concert in The Woodlands, September 24, 2010. I guess we can call it "Littleton/Hiney" luck because this isn't the kind of luck that I normally have, though it could have gone either way.
Burch luck is where we forget the number of our hotel room so I just check the entry card on every door until the card finally works. . . . on the last door that you try.
So our hotel was a block and a half from a Shell station - a good place in which to buy bottled beverages for before the concert. Cathy Littleton and I trapsed over to the Shell station, purchased some beer (they even had limes! In a GAS STATION!?) and walked back to the hotel. By the time we got there, we were hot and ready for that first beer.
As I'm quickly trying to cut a lime with a partially dull pocket knife we realize that we have nothing with which to open a beer bottle.
Burch luck is where my friends would have actually let me use the sprinkler head to open the bottle. I'm sure it would have worked!
Littleton luck is where you open the door of the hotel room and ask the couple who just happens to be walking by if they have a bottle opener, to which they immediately reply "Yes" and hold one up. WTH?! So they opened our beers for us, told us to stop by anytime and invited us to imbibe with them before the concert (seems like everyone in the hotel was there to see ZZ Top and Tom Petty).
It turns out, that when you mix Littleton Luck with Hiney Luck, you have something close to Burch luck, but not as bad.
While looking for the parking lot, Littleton Luck told Hiney Luck to look for the "GREEN" parking lot, as she was sure that it was the "GREEN" lot that was closest to the pavillion. We spotted a parking lot attendant in a green shirt and whipped a U-turn and made our way in. Turns out, all the Cynthia Woods Pavillion employees wear green. It was actually the "ORANGE" lot we pulled into, but it got us to the concert none-the-less.
Once inside the venue, we decided to buy ice cold beer but were dismayed to find out that they don't serve adult beverages to minors and they CARD EVERYBODY. Only the Hiney brought her ID - and she was the designated driver. Now that IS Burch Luck.
But, it was either Hiney Luck or Littleton Luck that gave us Tom Petty in concert on the night before a throat infection caused him to have to cancel his next two concerts. It definitely wasn't Burch Luck, or we wouldn't have seen him at all. Maybe a combonation of the three that got us only (or should I say AT LEAST) two songs for a standing ovation (rather than the normal four). At least we got American Girl!!
Now, it was MOST DEFINITELY BURCH luck that had us at the back of a long bathroom line when a GREEN shirted Pavilllion attendant told us that the other bathroom had no line at all but when we got there, the line was longer than the first one.
In all - a good weekend. But woe to Gubenatorial candidate Bill White and the guy who was drunkenly campaigning for him; pulling a dachshund and a beer cooler in a wagon yelling at the top of his drunken lungs to "VOTE FOR BILL WHITE FOR GOVERNOR"
He'll need some kind of luck to pull up in this campaign.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Burch Luck and the Weight Loss Game
We all know that the 'battle of the bulge' (I hate that term but it fits, so suck it) is ONLY won if you cut down your caloric intake and/or counter it with exercise. That means "Eat Right and Exercise." It's the new CRAZE!
And most, if not all Burch's HATE it. It isn't even that we hate exercise so much. Okay, that's wrong too. We don't like exercise. We can tolerate it though if it's necessary.
It's the food part that catches a Burch. We like to eat and we like to eat a lot. That's not to say that we don't like healthy stuff. One of my favorite little veggie dishes is my Grandma Burch's cucumber/onion/vinegar stuff. Yummy! Goes good with her chili or goo-lash! And her homemade piecrust cinnamon rolls - nothing better. We fight over them. Yeah, about those veggie dishes....
So I stumbled on this blog that inspired me more than most if only because it included a Youtube video that was set to some nice, heart tugging music.
Now, I wanted to start this off by saying that it's a lot easier to lose weight if you're a guy. It's physics man. But 120 lbs for anybody is no small feat and I would have to wonder if Ben would agree that it was ANYTHING but easy. Bloody nipples folks - watch the video!
So, I'm a little worried about the nipples thing, but maybe a sports bra will help with that. If I keep coming up with excuses, I'm going to keep coming up with more weight to lose. As it is, I set ONE SMALL goal for myself and though it's really not that small, it's still a goal. I will have to lose 37 lbs - only 37 - to reach this goal. When I make it, I will set more.
For now, I'm planning my first marathon to be a year from now. That means my first half-marathon will have to be in 5-6 months. Let's see what happens.
Burch Luck would dictate anything but success. So lets see if I can't turn that luck around.
"Luck affects everything; let your hook always be cast. In the stream where you least expect it, there will be fish." Ovid
Friday, September 10, 2010
Cyber Weight Loss; Who's Gonna Know?
(It's a special new diet! You attach this
modem to your stomach and upload your
fat to a skinny person on the internet!)
This is NOT, I repeat, NOT going to turn into a weight loss blog! That really would be Burch Luck, because I'd likely not be very successful. I don't want to jinx myself just 5 days into my Weight Watchers Online journey!
However, I would like to chronicle, at least now and then, my "current" attempt to make the "healthy lifestyle change" (which is really just a fancy way of saying diet and not running away).
One would think, that through my many years of yo-yo dieting, I would have finally learned the error of my weighs.
The biggest problem I have always had with any diet is not sticking to it. It's not that they don't work; they do. I just don't have the desire to eat cabbage soup for the rest of my life, or never eat another carb. It's those fad diets that get us fatties everytime. Weight Watchers, in my opinion, is really the best. I just don't want to go to the meetings. I have joined WW, I want to say, 9 times in the past. It always worked, but I made the excuse that I couldn't do it without going to the meetings and if I didn't go to the meetings, it just didn't work. In fact, I actually believed that.
The real problem, however, was that I either didn't want to go to the meetings, or I just didn't have time. I'm a busy, working mom (all mom's are busy - don't get me wrong...). I volunteer, I stay active (at least in my kids lives - much to their chagrin) and I read and write. Rarely, if ever do I have an 'extra' day on my calendar in any given month, let alone every week, so I just always let the Weight Watchers goal pitter out.
I decided to try the Online approach this time. Not only do I not have to attend any meetings, but it costs less $$ - which is music to the ears of my hubby, "Alan The cheap." So far, I glean more inspiration and information just reading the online success stories of people, just like me, who spend years and years on fad diets and wasted day dreams wishing we could contract a good case of Anorexia, even if just for one month.
What prompted this new found desire to lose weight, you might ask? (hey - even if you weren't asking - do it now...so that in the next sentence, you have a good answer.)
Recently, someone told me that I was looking good; like I had lost weight - a lot of it. I felt so good, I thought "Maybe that anorexia day dream finally came true and I didn't even realize it." (no offense to true eating disorder sufferers) So I went home that night, eagerly stepped on the scale, and realized that not only had I NOT lost any unknown weight, but I was at the heaviest weight I have ever been.
Disappointedly, I stepped from the scale and took a good long look in the mirror and realized that, yeah, I do look thinner...but it's because all that "heavy" stuff is just hanging lower and hiding within my clothes. Nice. I'm not thinner. I'm just hanging low. My, how attractive that sounds. Hey - be thankful I'm not posting a picture so you can get a visual! Just use your imagination.
So, what to do now? I've "tried' every diet...just like most people. They don't work because I don't like them so I just stop trying. There's an excuse for everything. But WW really does seem to be the key, because I've been successful with it many times and it's very easy to stick to it if you use the tools.
I have the i-Phone app, which is WONDERFUL! No points calculator, no food journal, etc. to carry around. It's all kept on the i-phone; even the tracking charts.
So, what will make this attempt different than all the rest? Well, it's only day five. I don't know the answer to that yet, or even if it will be different. But I will keep you posted.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Warped Tour - Post III - Because Road Trips are Fun Too
I truly believe that people like to take road trips with me because of my mad navigational skills. It's true! Every time I direct people, we end up at the right place; in a round about way.
Of course, any little trip, whether it be for just a day, or overnight and even a weekend, is never quite as enjoyable as the roadtrip itself.
Our BIG Warped Tour Weekend was no different. We started off in B-CS in rare form, Ginger's Ipod playing all the tunes our ears could stand and the girls in the back, twittering on their I-phones about how cool their mothers are (don't laugh Kelsey and Austyn; you know it's true).
We made all the right exits and all the right turns (you can thank me AND the little voice in the on-board mapping system with the sexy accent). Yes ma-am...you are welcome!
Of course, no road trip would be complete with out the laughter and the all too important "I HAVE TO GO PAYE PAYE" (pee pee) so I kept my eyes peeled for a suitable exit for when needed.
The first one I saw, I told Ginger "Hey, let's pee here" so we exited the roadway and onto a feeder road that was lined with....grass and a broken down neighborhood; but no gas station or fast food places. We, almost immediately, realized we were not near a suitable place to go "PAYE PAYE." Indeed, we found ourselves immediately on the wrong side of the tracks in an unknown town and the first person we saw was a scary guy on his porch smoking a crack pipe, no doubt awaiting his crack bitch to come home from her waitress job at the Waffle House and fix him a sammich.
"NOBODY MAKE EYE CONTACT!!!" Ginger yells as we all proceeded to be interested in whatever the church was to our left, holding in the "PAYE PAYE" as we laughed at our blunder, bumping over pot holes and gravel. I reassured Ginger that if she just made a left at the stop sign, we would get back on our road and we could exit at the NEXT stop.....just "DON'T LOOK BACK....CRACK GUY COULD FOLLOW" - the voice of the mapping system irritating my own navigation as she said "Recalculating..." (shut up beyotch!)
We were very fortunate though, as the Crack Man Whore was likely too wasted to get off his porch and merely followed us with his eyes, no doubt wondering how much he could get for the rims of the car, were we to stop long enough in front of his house. That was not to be a problem though, as Ginger peeled rubber all the way back to the highway.
You would think that our next exit would be perfect for the "PAYE PAYE" but we were racked with uncontrollable giggles as we pulled up to the "Gas and Stuf" and were unable to control our mirth as we realized that if these people couldn't spell properly, then they for sure kept their nasty bathroom under lock and key and we would have to buy something in order to release the "PAYE PAYE" - we just couldn't do it and after a few seconds deliberation and much laughter, Ginger pulled out and back onto the highway in search of suitable release.
It would have been easy to hold in the "PAYE PAYE" had we not then come across a couple of interesting billboards that made us not only ponder their meaning, but caused us to burst into more uncontrollable laughter as we tried to decipher their code.
The first billboard, I have not been able to find a picture of with my many searches on the internet, but it was undoubtedly an ad campaign warning young children/kids of the dangers of smoking. It had a picture of the back of a school bus and merely read "UNDER AGE SMOKING? MEET YOUR NEW RIDE...."
So, we had to ask ourselves....are they saying that if you smoke, the only job you'll ever get is that of a school bus driver? (*SNICKER SNICKER* *SQUEEZE SQUEEZE*) Or do they mean that if you are caught smoking, they will make you ride the school bus? Like, with all the other smokers? And if so, does that mean you can smoke on the bus?
I dare say, we still don't have that one figured out...
This one, however, was clear from 'almost' the beginning:
As you can imagine, as soon as we saw the "Condoms to Go URL", we were busting a gut, and all four of us were in shock-hysteria-laughter...the kind that is silent because you are laughing too hard to even breathe. Oh, you snort now and then, for sure, but mostly you just gasp for air and nod to the person next to you in case they don't understand that you are just laughing. I nearly lost my grip on my "PAYE PAYE" and Ginger was forced to pull into the very next stop. A halfway decent place, run by some guy who was probably named Achmed. It had a subway AND a pizza place inside as well as pool tables and FOUR STALLS in the bathroom! Talk about elation. RELEASE THE PAYE PAYE!
The problem was....one of the stalls had no door at all. No door.
No.
door.
It's hard enough to release the "PAYE PAYE" when you know you aren't going to sit on the toilet seat at all. But to hover with ease over a john with no door on the stall takes some defined acrobatics (See reference to my rules for bathroom etiquette). I gallantly chose this stall for myself....seeing as it was likely the most unused (ha ha...see I had a reason guys!!!) and there was much sighing of relief.
And more sighing. We had been waiting a looooongggg time ya know....
I want to say that there wasn't any soap, which seems likely given that this place wasn't all that much to the naked eye...but we all washed none-the-less (Ginger being the germaphobe that she is......and really....who wouldn't be in a place like this?!).
We each grabbed a snack, some drinks and were back in business and hitting the road, our eyes NOW peeled for hopefully more hilarious billboards.
None of them had quite the effect as the first two though, so we busied ourselves with finding the correct exit for our hotel.
It was an EXQUISITE hotel. Very nice. 28 floors I believe. If you ever get the chance, I totally recommend the Hilton Anatole in Dallas, Texas. One word of advice, however. When you make reservations, ask about any conventions that might be taking place that weekend. Just a thought.
We actually hit on a very "different" kind of convention. It was for the National Federation of the Blind - their annual convention. It was HUGE. We were most likely the only sighted guests that weekend. There were walking sticks and seeing eye dogs everywhere. And of course, I had to re-pave my way to hell by uncontrollably saying things like "Don't worry - nobody saw that" and other worse things that I REFUSE to mention. I don't want any blind people happening on this site and taking offense. Plus, I was offended myself.....sorry God....and please bless the blind.
There was one occasion when we all loaded in the car to go to Denny's - our favorite thing to do when we are exhausted after a concert. We pluggedthe restaurant address into the Garmin and I "helped" direct Ginger on the route...only to find that the Denny's was just across the street from the hotel. We literally drove across the street to eat....while the BLIND hotel patrons dared to walk across the traffic to get to the same place. The blind people got there quicker than us!
We actually had many, enjoyable interactions with the blind during our stay. One seeing eye dog actually nosed my ass. But most impressive, was Speed Racer, the nice looking blind fellow that approached us and asked us very politely if we knew where the atrium was. He was blind, yet he had beautiful eyes. I wonder if he knows that?
Ginger pointed in one direction (she pointed ya'all.....) and then told him it was just in the way he was already heading and then over to his right. She didn't even really know if she had told him correctly (she did, by the way) but we watched in awe as he used his walking stick and quickly headed in that direction, deftly avoiding all obstacles in his way well before he got near them. . I don't even think I could have kept up with his pace, even if I had to go "PAYE PAYE."
It was baffling to see many of the blind people struggle, AND overcome some of the things that we usually take for granted. Yet is was also amazing!! The other senses that a blind person develops to overcome their lack of sight continues to amaze me. Just listening to some of the conversations many of the blind people had with their colleagues and friends, I was almost ashamed to admit that their intelligence was way above mine. Ashamed, because my narrow-mindedness somehow always led me to believe that if you can't see, how can you learn? How could you know as much as somebody with full sight?
Dude....Helen Keller....Hello?! Yes, me....who laughs at things like getting lost in crackville and dirty billboard signs and getting lost while looking for a restroom. Am I to believe that I am really as shallow as that? I do feel I am a changed person at having witnessed the everyday struggles and difficulties that all blind people have to learn to overcome.
I'm also pretty sure that "Speedy Gonzales," the blind man that we gave directions to inside the hotel, could have navigated us home to B-CS quicker than I did as we drove through Waco, trying to find the highway 6 exit that I was SURE was 'just up ahead' not quite realizing that the exit we needed was the one we had just used to stop and go "PAYE PAYE." *sigh*
It took a lot of willpower for Ginger not to throw her french fries (the ones Kelsey didn't eat) into the back seat at me, (along with her nicely quartered fish sandwich) as I quietly said "I think it's next..." Yeah....my mad navigational skills.
"Will power is to the mind like a strong blind man who carries on his shoulders a lame man who can see." Arthur Schopenhauer
Of course, any little trip, whether it be for just a day, or overnight and even a weekend, is never quite as enjoyable as the roadtrip itself.
Our BIG Warped Tour Weekend was no different. We started off in B-CS in rare form, Ginger's Ipod playing all the tunes our ears could stand and the girls in the back, twittering on their I-phones about how cool their mothers are (don't laugh Kelsey and Austyn; you know it's true).
We made all the right exits and all the right turns (you can thank me AND the little voice in the on-board mapping system with the sexy accent). Yes ma-am...you are welcome!
Of course, no road trip would be complete with out the laughter and the all too important "I HAVE TO GO PAYE PAYE" (pee pee) so I kept my eyes peeled for a suitable exit for when needed.
The first one I saw, I told Ginger "Hey, let's pee here" so we exited the roadway and onto a feeder road that was lined with....grass and a broken down neighborhood; but no gas station or fast food places. We, almost immediately, realized we were not near a suitable place to go "PAYE PAYE." Indeed, we found ourselves immediately on the wrong side of the tracks in an unknown town and the first person we saw was a scary guy on his porch smoking a crack pipe, no doubt awaiting his crack bitch to come home from her waitress job at the Waffle House and fix him a sammich.
"NOBODY MAKE EYE CONTACT!!!" Ginger yells as we all proceeded to be interested in whatever the church was to our left, holding in the "PAYE PAYE" as we laughed at our blunder, bumping over pot holes and gravel. I reassured Ginger that if she just made a left at the stop sign, we would get back on our road and we could exit at the NEXT stop.....just "DON'T LOOK BACK....CRACK GUY COULD FOLLOW" - the voice of the mapping system irritating my own navigation as she said "Recalculating..." (shut up beyotch!)
We were very fortunate though, as the Crack Man Whore was likely too wasted to get off his porch and merely followed us with his eyes, no doubt wondering how much he could get for the rims of the car, were we to stop long enough in front of his house. That was not to be a problem though, as Ginger peeled rubber all the way back to the highway.
You would think that our next exit would be perfect for the "PAYE PAYE" but we were racked with uncontrollable giggles as we pulled up to the "Gas and Stuf" and were unable to control our mirth as we realized that if these people couldn't spell properly, then they for sure kept their nasty bathroom under lock and key and we would have to buy something in order to release the "PAYE PAYE" - we just couldn't do it and after a few seconds deliberation and much laughter, Ginger pulled out and back onto the highway in search of suitable release.
It would have been easy to hold in the "PAYE PAYE" had we not then come across a couple of interesting billboards that made us not only ponder their meaning, but caused us to burst into more uncontrollable laughter as we tried to decipher their code.
The first billboard, I have not been able to find a picture of with my many searches on the internet, but it was undoubtedly an ad campaign warning young children/kids of the dangers of smoking. It had a picture of the back of a school bus and merely read "UNDER AGE SMOKING? MEET YOUR NEW RIDE...."
So, we had to ask ourselves....are they saying that if you smoke, the only job you'll ever get is that of a school bus driver? (*SNICKER SNICKER* *SQUEEZE SQUEEZE*) Or do they mean that if you are caught smoking, they will make you ride the school bus? Like, with all the other smokers? And if so, does that mean you can smoke on the bus?
I dare say, we still don't have that one figured out...
This one, however, was clear from 'almost' the beginning:
As you can imagine, as soon as we saw the "Condoms to Go URL", we were busting a gut, and all four of us were in shock-hysteria-laughter...the kind that is silent because you are laughing too hard to even breathe. Oh, you snort now and then, for sure, but mostly you just gasp for air and nod to the person next to you in case they don't understand that you are just laughing. I nearly lost my grip on my "PAYE PAYE" and Ginger was forced to pull into the very next stop. A halfway decent place, run by some guy who was probably named Achmed. It had a subway AND a pizza place inside as well as pool tables and FOUR STALLS in the bathroom! Talk about elation. RELEASE THE PAYE PAYE!
The problem was....one of the stalls had no door at all. No door.
No.
door.
It's hard enough to release the "PAYE PAYE" when you know you aren't going to sit on the toilet seat at all. But to hover with ease over a john with no door on the stall takes some defined acrobatics (See reference to my rules for bathroom etiquette). I gallantly chose this stall for myself....seeing as it was likely the most unused (ha ha...see I had a reason guys!!!) and there was much sighing of relief.
And more sighing. We had been waiting a looooongggg time ya know....
I want to say that there wasn't any soap, which seems likely given that this place wasn't all that much to the naked eye...but we all washed none-the-less (Ginger being the germaphobe that she is......and really....who wouldn't be in a place like this?!).
We each grabbed a snack, some drinks and were back in business and hitting the road, our eyes NOW peeled for hopefully more hilarious billboards.
None of them had quite the effect as the first two though, so we busied ourselves with finding the correct exit for our hotel.
It was an EXQUISITE hotel. Very nice. 28 floors I believe. If you ever get the chance, I totally recommend the Hilton Anatole in Dallas, Texas. One word of advice, however. When you make reservations, ask about any conventions that might be taking place that weekend. Just a thought.
We actually hit on a very "different" kind of convention. It was for the National Federation of the Blind - their annual convention. It was HUGE. We were most likely the only sighted guests that weekend. There were walking sticks and seeing eye dogs everywhere. And of course, I had to re-pave my way to hell by uncontrollably saying things like "Don't worry - nobody saw that" and other worse things that I REFUSE to mention. I don't want any blind people happening on this site and taking offense. Plus, I was offended myself.....sorry God....and please bless the blind.
There was one occasion when we all loaded in the car to go to Denny's - our favorite thing to do when we are exhausted after a concert. We pluggedthe restaurant address into the Garmin and I "helped" direct Ginger on the route...only to find that the Denny's was just across the street from the hotel. We literally drove across the street to eat....while the BLIND hotel patrons dared to walk across the traffic to get to the same place. The blind people got there quicker than us!
We actually had many, enjoyable interactions with the blind during our stay. One seeing eye dog actually nosed my ass. But most impressive, was Speed Racer, the nice looking blind fellow that approached us and asked us very politely if we knew where the atrium was. He was blind, yet he had beautiful eyes. I wonder if he knows that?
Ginger pointed in one direction (she pointed ya'all.....) and then told him it was just in the way he was already heading and then over to his right. She didn't even really know if she had told him correctly (she did, by the way) but we watched in awe as he used his walking stick and quickly headed in that direction, deftly avoiding all obstacles in his way well before he got near them. . I don't even think I could have kept up with his pace, even if I had to go "PAYE PAYE."
It was baffling to see many of the blind people struggle, AND overcome some of the things that we usually take for granted. Yet is was also amazing!! The other senses that a blind person develops to overcome their lack of sight continues to amaze me. Just listening to some of the conversations many of the blind people had with their colleagues and friends, I was almost ashamed to admit that their intelligence was way above mine. Ashamed, because my narrow-mindedness somehow always led me to believe that if you can't see, how can you learn? How could you know as much as somebody with full sight?
Dude....Helen Keller....Hello?! Yes, me....who laughs at things like getting lost in crackville and dirty billboard signs and getting lost while looking for a restroom. Am I to believe that I am really as shallow as that? I do feel I am a changed person at having witnessed the everyday struggles and difficulties that all blind people have to learn to overcome.
I'm also pretty sure that "Speedy Gonzales," the blind man that we gave directions to inside the hotel, could have navigated us home to B-CS quicker than I did as we drove through Waco, trying to find the highway 6 exit that I was SURE was 'just up ahead' not quite realizing that the exit we needed was the one we had just used to stop and go "PAYE PAYE." *sigh*
It took a lot of willpower for Ginger not to throw her french fries (the ones Kelsey didn't eat) into the back seat at me, (along with her nicely quartered fish sandwich) as I quietly said "I think it's next..." Yeah....my mad navigational skills.
"Will power is to the mind like a strong blind man who carries on his shoulders a lame man who can see." Arthur Schopenhauer
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Enterobius vermicularis-The Warped Weekend: Part Deux
What makes a responsible parent give up their hard earned weekend to take their teenage offspring to an activity that is decidedly one of the last places on earth any parent would ever want their child to be?Temporary insanity? Let me help you out here with a little "Emo-Parenting 101" - and then see if you can't answer that question.
This past weekend, my friend Ginger and I accompanied our daughters to Van’s Warped Tour on what was decidedly the hottest day of the Dallas summer, so that they could rock out to some of their favorite bands while her and I enjoyed 1 or 2 refreshing, ice cold, $10.00 beers (yeah, we were done after 2. Beers that is. We were done drinking before 1:00 p.m. and Ginger was sporting a nice headache before 2:00. Nice....
If you don’t know what Van’s Warped Tour is – Lucky you (and lucky your pocket book)! Basic explanation is that it’s a “clothing optional-modern-day-Woodstock” but instead of Hippies, it’s attended by melodramatic teenagers who don’t smile and keep their hair covering at least three-quarters of their face. Except for our daughters, who were grinning ear to ear, for the most part, and were complete angels.
The bands that Ginger and I wanted to see played at 1:15, and then at 7:15 and 8:10....giving us a big SIX HOUR gap in which to people watch; and boy did we see some. . . . people.
Like this guy, who wore only a bandana, held up with suspenders and a conspicuous pair of knee pads.
Yeah, yeah…so nobody who is Emo thinks they are Emo…and I don’t think my daughter and her friend are Emo…but they sure do party with a LOT of Emo people.
At least our daughters weren't hanging out with these girls, who, much to the dismay and mortification of soon-to-be-Nurse Ginger, splashed each other with reckless abandon in a puddle of oozing, foul hepatitis water. Playtime was actually over when we walked by and they were just sitting in the middle of it.
It was all Ginger could do not to ask for their parent’s telephone number so that she could call and warn them to watch for signs of high fever, chills or a red, swollen, pus-oozing rash. Somebody at this venue MUST have gone home with ring worm or staph infection. Ginger is certain of it!
This past weekend, my friend Ginger and I accompanied our daughters to Van’s Warped Tour on what was decidedly the hottest day of the Dallas summer, so that they could rock out to some of their favorite bands while her and I enjoyed 1 or 2 refreshing, ice cold, $10.00 beers (yeah, we were done after 2. Beers that is. We were done drinking before 1:00 p.m. and Ginger was sporting a nice headache before 2:00. Nice....
If you don’t know what Van’s Warped Tour is – Lucky you (and lucky your pocket book)! Basic explanation is that it’s a “clothing optional-modern-day-Woodstock” but instead of Hippies, it’s attended by melodramatic teenagers who don’t smile and keep their hair covering at least three-quarters of their face. Except for our daughters, who were grinning ear to ear, for the most part, and were complete angels.
The bands that Ginger and I wanted to see played at 1:15, and then at 7:15 and 8:10....giving us a big SIX HOUR gap in which to people watch; and boy did we see some. . . . people.
Like this guy, who wore only a bandana, held up with suspenders and a conspicuous pair of knee pads.
"I'm too Emo for my shirt, too Emo for my shirt...so Emo it hurts...."
Yeah, yeah…so nobody who is Emo thinks they are Emo…and I don’t think my daughter and her friend are Emo…but they sure do party with a LOT of Emo people.
At least our daughters weren't hanging out with these girls, who, much to the dismay and mortification of soon-to-be-Nurse Ginger, splashed each other with reckless abandon in a puddle of oozing, foul hepatitis water. Playtime was actually over when we walked by and they were just sitting in the middle of it.
It was all Ginger could do not to ask for their parent’s telephone number so that she could call and warn them to watch for signs of high fever, chills or a red, swollen, pus-oozing rash. Somebody at this venue MUST have gone home with ring worm or staph infection. Ginger is certain of it!
I can't say that we were too impressed with much of the screaming, from the bands or the fans (ever tried to take a nap at a rock concert? It's hard!) but we did like the sound of this one guy who calls himself "I can Mess Up any Lyric" or "I'm messed up but I can sing." or was it "Nobody can mess things up like me" I can never get it right...but he was good. He had a more mellow sound that I like, and he actually sang the words instead of screaming them.
I also liked this guy, The Rocket Summer. Some guys can really sing, and we appreciated their efforts to not alienate the few, shocked parents who were in attendance. He reminded me a lot of Bon Jovi, but Ginger doesn't like Bon Jovi, so that's not it either. I think it's just that we understood what he was saying so that made it music.
This is the Mosh Pit that Ginger's daughter SWEARS she was not near...and okay...I have to say I believe her. I just don't think she would be that crazy or make herself look that foolish!!!
In all, the most unnerving thing about the concert was that many of these kids parents could NOT have known what their kids were wearing, where they were actually going (other than a concert) because I resfuse to believe that there are this many parents who would allow their kids to do things like this:
Or this:
Or especially this:
So, are we crazy moms or cool moms for spending a Saturday outside, in temperatures of not less than 100 degrees or more, with a bunch of wild, crazy punk teenagers and music that made our ears ring? I would have to say crazy for sure because we definitely won't be doing it again. Next year - the dads can go!
The one thing that made it bearable is that we at least knew where our kids were and what they were doing (for the most part) and what they were definitely NOT doing. It's really kind of frightening to know that your child is right in front of the stage (Ginger's daughter has a talent for pushing right to the front without a problem; I'm still kicking myself for not having her drag me up to Travis Clark!) and you suddenly see all kinds of crap (water bottles, plastic beer bottles, etc) flying in that direction. Ginger and I would just turn and look at each other and shrug. What are you gonna do? At least our girls made it out of there safely, whether it was because we were there or because they are just smart kids, who knows?
Things we learned for certain this weekend are as follows:
1) rain panchos can be used for sitting, but when used later as an actual pancho, should be worn dirt side out.
2) it's really stupid to pay somebody $1.00 to take a picture of their concert schedule, especially if your friend then does the same thing for free - DOH!
3) A tree will not protect you from the rain as well as a bathroom.
4) A teenagers entire wardrobe can be purchased at a concert merch table.
5) Our daughters are so NOT Emo. Puh-leeze! They don't cut!
6) I really like to say "merch."
7) we are pretty cool moms whether our daughters admit it or not.
Oh, lest I forget the former circus side-show freak, who retired from Ringling Bros. in order to peddle beer at concert venues, that was trying to pick up on Ginger by impressing her with tales about his possible pro-wrestling career, and later on, the over-weight, very inebriated merch guy (I think he used to be a Carnie) who wanted BOTH of us, though he never got his eyes as high as our faces.
....yeah....we've still got it....
TO FOLLOW: PART TRES - Road Trips, Vegetable Abuse, Smoking on the bus and Blind people.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Enterobius fermicularis - The Warped Weekend - PART I
Since I knew it would be difficult to sum up the recent Warped weekend in only one blog, I'm going to do this one in short installments.
To say the least it was, for the most part, a blast. To say the most, well, you’ll just have to read on and be patient.
One of the most annoying yet endearing qualities about me (yes, I just called myself endearing) is that I have this insatiable desire to make sure that everyone has a good time. I have been like this since childhood; unable to bear in any family member or friend their “saddened, angry or bored mood”, I would entertain them with jokes or antics on the road, the hotel room or in the tent, depending on our location. Any topic was fodder for the distraction. It bothers me to see others not having fun or enjoying themselves as any road-trip is meant to be enjoyed. It is both a curse (for me and whomever I may be with) and a release.
In either case, I ended up being the “fun sucker” for my daughter at Warped Tour and I am remorseful enough that I should admit that here for the world to see. Sorry Punky!
I’m sorry that I had to stop being a friend and act the roll of parent after the jolt of fear that seared through me when I thought you were being kidnapped and sold into slavery!!
Turns out, I was not far off, what with the Vans Warped Tour staff’s blatant attempt to play on the excitement and vulnerability of fans and convince them to serve in their catering tent, dishing slop to the many performers and staff that is necessary to put on a show of this magnitude. Who cares if you spend two hours on your feet, NOT rocking out to the bands you actually paid good money to see, but instead serving up beans and rice to their roadie’s and stage hands, hoping for a glimpse of your favorite rockers or maybe a smile from some cool drummer?
At least they give the kids a green bracelet to get back stage for any performance; cool right? Well, it could have been had I not made my daughter feel so terrible about abandoning her friend K (who opted to watch and rock to her favorite bands rather than join the other unwittingly enslaved fans in the torturous heat to play cafeteria lady serving strangers dinner) that the entire experience was ruined by her discomfort at having believed she ruined everyone else s' concert experience (those being the words I used to scold her through several texts as I tried to figure out WTH she was doing and where she was).
I basically cussed her out for making me feel uncomfortable, because I was afraid others would not enjoy themselves because she had jumped at what she thought was a chance to meet one or two idols, but instead turned into a chance at hard labor; I foolishly felt that she needed a lesson in humility so I bombarded her with texts of how inconsiderate and rude she was being. How could she leave her friend to conquer the concert alone? Why would she not stick around to actually witness band performances? Was this not what we spent so much money to do?
So now, her most memorable souvenir will be the unused backstage pass bracelet that she couldn’t bear to use out of the guilt that I had rained upon her. She did try to convince me to put it on and try to go backstage for We The Kings, so I could witness, possibly up close and personal, the ONLY band I had truly any desire to see, and my own shameless idol, Travis Clark. But we were all far too exhausted to even last through the whole set. I could barely even harmonize my beautiful rendition of Demi Levato (K's personal idol - NOT!!) singing "We'll Be a Dream." *SIGH*
So, for ruining my daughter’s Warped experience, I am truly sorry. I love you Punky! Thank you for realizing in yourself a passion for wanting to meet your idols and doing all that you can to do so, even if you realized only that you don't ever want to go into the catering business!! Keep the green pass as a badge of honor for having endured your mother's realistic fears and tortuous and vitriolic text messages and the heat and sweat that you endured before you finally and literally bumped into Jake Germany on our way out of the bacterial breeding ground.
This was but one experience, the uncomfortable one, that was hopefully overshadowed by many of the events that brought hysterical laughter and tears to us throughout the rest of the weekend.
With the next blog installment (to follow this one shortly) I will make it up to everyone that "I" made uncomfortable and then some!
P.S. my daughter does NOT approve of this message! She said I did NOT ruin her time, that she had a blast and would do the catering all over again because she actually did get to meet and serve several band members; she would not have left K if K had not been with two other people and quite capable of enjoying herself....blah blah blah blah blah.... Okay...so what she is actually saying, is that "I" didn't ruin her day with my ugly text's to her. That's a plus for me then! It means I did my job well!
Coming soon: Gas and Stuf, putting an end to vegetable abuse, Emo State Fair and Side Show, rain, wet rain, sideways rain and a convention for the blind.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Things you should not do while texting
We all know it's stupid to text and drive. That's a given people. Too many people have lost their lives...I won't even go into it because it's too depressing and I'm not one for mucking up the internet with what you should and shouldn't do while driving. If you don't know by now, you're an idiot.
However, there are some things you would never have guessed would be a problem to do while texting. My pet peeve is people who text at the dinner table (ahem...my daughter) or people who, directly in the middle of a conversation with me, will take out their phone to answer a text and still try to hold a conversation with me. They believe that I think they are listening. Yeah...mmmm...no.
Off my soap box now. I'm a texter. Sometimes, out of necessity, even at the dinner table, or at the very least to message my kids and call them down to dinner. Hey, I'm lazy, I admit it that as well. I also text at work when I can just as easily pick up the phone and call, or the once popular but now almost as ancient as actually talking to someone, E-mail.
It used to turn me off when I would hear people on their cell phone in a public bathroom stall, I mean...come on? Seriously? That conversation couldn't wait? When I am at home, however, this rule can and will be bent. After all, I am only human.
So yesterday, while in the midst of a text chat with my dear friend Cathy, starting with me reminding her that she was soon to be the mother of an 18 year old and how did that feel, ha ha, rub rub (even though I shall suffer the same fate in less that two months) I had to go ... for lack of a better word...pee. So I took my phone with me. What? This is MY blog!!!
Anyway, it was then that I realized that I needed "feminine" supplies and there were none in my bathroom cabinet. So, I already had my phone out, I texted my daughter quickly and asked her to bring me some. I didn't merely just ask...I told her WHY I couldn't come get them myself. Without realizing that I was actually still in the chat with my friend, I hit send, realizing too late that I had basically just asked her to drive 20 miles from her house to bring me a feminine napkin. Oy!
Easy fix...we LOL'd and TMI'd through text while I quickly copied the original request, pasted it into a new text and properly sent this to my daughter. No harm, no foul, right?
Yeah....Burch Luck, remember? Fast foward to this morning, my FAVORITE radio station, Candy95 holds this contest where you can win "TWIFECTA" tickets (tickets to see Twilight, New Moon, then Eclipse all on the same night at the movie theater on the night that Eclipse comes out - hey - it was for my daughter!). Typically, what I do is pull over (because it's UNSAFE to text while driving) and text the KEY WORD to their number then copy and paste the text and resend repeatedly until I get the message that they already have a winner (because I have Burch Luck and never actually win - but hey, it's always fun to play). Apparently, my text happy fingers didn't quite copy today's key word (FORKS) and I instead pasted my text about needing feminine supplies....TO THE RADIO DJ's - Frito and Alli!! OMG! I'm sure they didn't see it, since they typically get 1500 texts in the first 20 seconds, but I certainly saw it and immediately turned 3 shades of red and elected not to participate in today's contest in order to not draw further embarassment to myself.
Toilet Texting.....who knew?!?!
However, there are some things you would never have guessed would be a problem to do while texting. My pet peeve is people who text at the dinner table (ahem...my daughter) or people who, directly in the middle of a conversation with me, will take out their phone to answer a text and still try to hold a conversation with me. They believe that I think they are listening. Yeah...mmmm...no.
Off my soap box now. I'm a texter. Sometimes, out of necessity, even at the dinner table, or at the very least to message my kids and call them down to dinner. Hey, I'm lazy, I admit it that as well. I also text at work when I can just as easily pick up the phone and call, or the once popular but now almost as ancient as actually talking to someone, E-mail.
It used to turn me off when I would hear people on their cell phone in a public bathroom stall, I mean...come on? Seriously? That conversation couldn't wait? When I am at home, however, this rule can and will be bent. After all, I am only human.
So yesterday, while in the midst of a text chat with my dear friend Cathy, starting with me reminding her that she was soon to be the mother of an 18 year old and how did that feel, ha ha, rub rub (even though I shall suffer the same fate in less that two months) I had to go ... for lack of a better word...pee. So I took my phone with me. What? This is MY blog!!!
Anyway, it was then that I realized that I needed "feminine" supplies and there were none in my bathroom cabinet. So, I already had my phone out, I texted my daughter quickly and asked her to bring me some. I didn't merely just ask...I told her WHY I couldn't come get them myself. Without realizing that I was actually still in the chat with my friend, I hit send, realizing too late that I had basically just asked her to drive 20 miles from her house to bring me a feminine napkin. Oy!
Easy fix...we LOL'd and TMI'd through text while I quickly copied the original request, pasted it into a new text and properly sent this to my daughter. No harm, no foul, right?
Yeah....Burch Luck, remember? Fast foward to this morning, my FAVORITE radio station, Candy95 holds this contest where you can win "TWIFECTA" tickets (tickets to see Twilight, New Moon, then Eclipse all on the same night at the movie theater on the night that Eclipse comes out - hey - it was for my daughter!). Typically, what I do is pull over (because it's UNSAFE to text while driving) and text the KEY WORD to their number then copy and paste the text and resend repeatedly until I get the message that they already have a winner (because I have Burch Luck and never actually win - but hey, it's always fun to play). Apparently, my text happy fingers didn't quite copy today's key word (FORKS) and I instead pasted my text about needing feminine supplies....TO THE RADIO DJ's - Frito and Alli!! OMG! I'm sure they didn't see it, since they typically get 1500 texts in the first 20 seconds, but I certainly saw it and immediately turned 3 shades of red and elected not to participate in today's contest in order to not draw further embarassment to myself.
Toilet Texting.....who knew?!?!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Summer Weed Eating
Summer is almost here and so is the dreaded swimsuit season. Not that I readily jump into a swimsuit, at least not in front of other human beings; but as we are planning on getting a pool this summer (nothing fancy, just something for the kids to do during the day) I'm sure I'll likely go with something.
That being said, the first thing I think about when selecting a swimsuit, or contemplating actually wearing one, is the dreaded 'bikini line' and the gnarly razor bumps most people get from shaving.
So, this year I decided to forgo my trusty regular bic razor for these nifty little wax strips; a sort of DIY grooming product, and at a much lower cost than paying someone to get down there, which is not up my alley, pardon the pun. If you have never seen this product, it's a box of a dozen plastic strips with a thin coating of wax which you simply apply in the areas in which you would like to remove unwanted hair folicles. You press it on, let it warm to your skin, then remove it quickly for perfect hair removal. Or so one would think. This is a Burch Luck story though. If you consider yourself a prude, you probably don't want to read on.
The day I decided to perform this "bikini line ritual", I thought I would also take a nice relaxing bath in the whirl pool tub, complete with classical music, several well placed scented candles and a glass of wine (yes...I'm still allergic to alcohol....but sometimes, a little wine can be soothing...until the itching starts...but that's another Burch Luck story).
The water was running in the tub, the candles were lit and a nice, soothing Enya CD was serving as my 'project' background music. I strategically laid out the wax strips as well as the other necessary supplies (included in the kit) which includes a ridiculously small bottle of oil (for excess wax removal) and VERY CAREFULLY read the directions. Twice. You can't be too careful in this area, don't ya know?
I followed these carefully read directions, placed the first wax strip in the bikini area and rubbed it in a little (IT'S IN THE DIRECTIONS PEOPLE!!!) to warm the wax so that it could adhere to, well, whatever. Anyway, I let it sit for the recommended 2-3 minutes, held my thigh skin taut with one hand, grabbed the wax strip with the other and ripped away!
Yeah...ouch.
I looked at the strip in my hand and realized that, aside from some of the wax, there was nothing on the little strip. WTH?! Why the pain the then? I tried to put the strip into the trash so I could tend to my throbbing nether region, and then realized that it was stuck to my fingers with what little wax remained on it. I attempted to peel it away with my wax free hand. Yeah...now both hands had wax and were sticking to everything. I did manage to fling the strip, but it went flying and despite my best efforts, I was unable to find it; and anyway, I knew I needed to remove whatever wax was still on the bikini line. That's when I had the sudden realization that the wax was still on the bikini line and had very nicely attached itself to, well my thigh and my bikini line; they were adhered together very nicely. I tried peeling it away, but my fingers were just managing to stick more wax to me and, as you might imagine, it hurt like the dickens.
So, I realized I would have to use the aforementioned oil. Again, it is a ridiculously small bottle resembling one of those perfume sample bottles. I held it with one hand, removed the lid with the other and then realized the the bottle was waxed to one hand and the lid was waxed to the other. *Sigh* Burch luck, right? Wait, it gets better. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.
After numerous attempts to 'knock' the lid from my finger tips by scraping it on the faucet, I was finally able to disengage it and watched helplessly as it went down the drain. I figured I'd leave the oil stuck in my hand as I applied it, however, I foolishly felt that I would need something to 'apply' the oil to all wax infected areas, so I stepped over to grab some toilet paper, realizing, too late of course, that I now had toilet paper stuck to my fingers, but hey, that's what the oil is for, right? Using the toilet paper, I applied the oil...on the oil container to get it off my fingers then tossed the t-paper aside (successfully - woo hoo) so I could attend to the, by now, very sticky wax down below. It took the whole bottle of oil to clear the area and at least 90% of the unwanted bikini line still remained. You would think this fiasco ended here, but this is a Burch Luck story.
If you will recall, the water was still running for my bath, but as it was to my back plus with the nice Enya music, and 'other activities' I actually forgot about the bath. The water didn't run over or anything...it's a big tub...though that would have been comical, right?! I did have to make a mad dash to turn it off though, and that's when I realized I had found the wax strip I had previously flung...it was sticking to the bottom of my foot and as I took a step, it picked up a strip of toilet paper and as I leaned over to turn off the water and then lifted my foot to begin more wax removal, the trailing strip of toilet paper caught on one of my candles. Even though one might expect toilet paper to be non-flammable, that is actually not the case. It can burn pretty quickly, if it's the cheap kind (and if you know my husband, you know that, of course, we have the generic, made from recycled sandpaper brand). So, I did what any normal human being with flaming hot toilet paper waxed to their person would do. I plunged my foot into the tub, wax, paper, flames and all.
Yeah. So much for a nice relaxing bath; and the self waxing job? Left a strip of bruised and broken skin that covered twice the area of my bikini line. Luckily; I did this in March, before it was actually time to wear a bathing suit.
Bikini line, healing nicely. My pride...not so much.
That being said, the first thing I think about when selecting a swimsuit, or contemplating actually wearing one, is the dreaded 'bikini line' and the gnarly razor bumps most people get from shaving.
So, this year I decided to forgo my trusty regular bic razor for these nifty little wax strips; a sort of DIY grooming product, and at a much lower cost than paying someone to get down there, which is not up my alley, pardon the pun. If you have never seen this product, it's a box of a dozen plastic strips with a thin coating of wax which you simply apply in the areas in which you would like to remove unwanted hair folicles. You press it on, let it warm to your skin, then remove it quickly for perfect hair removal. Or so one would think. This is a Burch Luck story though. If you consider yourself a prude, you probably don't want to read on.
The day I decided to perform this "bikini line ritual", I thought I would also take a nice relaxing bath in the whirl pool tub, complete with classical music, several well placed scented candles and a glass of wine (yes...I'm still allergic to alcohol....but sometimes, a little wine can be soothing...until the itching starts...but that's another Burch Luck story).
The water was running in the tub, the candles were lit and a nice, soothing Enya CD was serving as my 'project' background music. I strategically laid out the wax strips as well as the other necessary supplies (included in the kit) which includes a ridiculously small bottle of oil (for excess wax removal) and VERY CAREFULLY read the directions. Twice. You can't be too careful in this area, don't ya know?
I followed these carefully read directions, placed the first wax strip in the bikini area and rubbed it in a little (IT'S IN THE DIRECTIONS PEOPLE!!!) to warm the wax so that it could adhere to, well, whatever. Anyway, I let it sit for the recommended 2-3 minutes, held my thigh skin taut with one hand, grabbed the wax strip with the other and ripped away!
Yeah...ouch.
I looked at the strip in my hand and realized that, aside from some of the wax, there was nothing on the little strip. WTH?! Why the pain the then? I tried to put the strip into the trash so I could tend to my throbbing nether region, and then realized that it was stuck to my fingers with what little wax remained on it. I attempted to peel it away with my wax free hand. Yeah...now both hands had wax and were sticking to everything. I did manage to fling the strip, but it went flying and despite my best efforts, I was unable to find it; and anyway, I knew I needed to remove whatever wax was still on the bikini line. That's when I had the sudden realization that the wax was still on the bikini line and had very nicely attached itself to, well my thigh and my bikini line; they were adhered together very nicely. I tried peeling it away, but my fingers were just managing to stick more wax to me and, as you might imagine, it hurt like the dickens.
So, I realized I would have to use the aforementioned oil. Again, it is a ridiculously small bottle resembling one of those perfume sample bottles. I held it with one hand, removed the lid with the other and then realized the the bottle was waxed to one hand and the lid was waxed to the other. *Sigh* Burch luck, right? Wait, it gets better. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.
After numerous attempts to 'knock' the lid from my finger tips by scraping it on the faucet, I was finally able to disengage it and watched helplessly as it went down the drain. I figured I'd leave the oil stuck in my hand as I applied it, however, I foolishly felt that I would need something to 'apply' the oil to all wax infected areas, so I stepped over to grab some toilet paper, realizing, too late of course, that I now had toilet paper stuck to my fingers, but hey, that's what the oil is for, right? Using the toilet paper, I applied the oil...on the oil container to get it off my fingers then tossed the t-paper aside (successfully - woo hoo) so I could attend to the, by now, very sticky wax down below. It took the whole bottle of oil to clear the area and at least 90% of the unwanted bikini line still remained. You would think this fiasco ended here, but this is a Burch Luck story.
If you will recall, the water was still running for my bath, but as it was to my back plus with the nice Enya music, and 'other activities' I actually forgot about the bath. The water didn't run over or anything...it's a big tub...though that would have been comical, right?! I did have to make a mad dash to turn it off though, and that's when I realized I had found the wax strip I had previously flung...it was sticking to the bottom of my foot and as I took a step, it picked up a strip of toilet paper and as I leaned over to turn off the water and then lifted my foot to begin more wax removal, the trailing strip of toilet paper caught on one of my candles. Even though one might expect toilet paper to be non-flammable, that is actually not the case. It can burn pretty quickly, if it's the cheap kind (and if you know my husband, you know that, of course, we have the generic, made from recycled sandpaper brand). So, I did what any normal human being with flaming hot toilet paper waxed to their person would do. I plunged my foot into the tub, wax, paper, flames and all.
Yeah. So much for a nice relaxing bath; and the self waxing job? Left a strip of bruised and broken skin that covered twice the area of my bikini line. Luckily; I did this in March, before it was actually time to wear a bathing suit.
Bikini line, healing nicely. My pride...not so much.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Oh When The Saints....go Marching in....
Let's hope the Colts come marching right back! Most people close to me know that I'm a HUGE Peyton Manning fan. I'm a Twitterer by nature, as well as blogger, so I'm sure I'll be pecking out a steady stream of tweets this coming Sunday as I watch "my man" work his tail off because the Colts defense undoubtedly hasn't improved in the last few weeks. So, textually speaking, look for me during the Super Bowl; that is, if you plan to be a part of the 100 million viewers.
And, if it's commercials that you watch for, and I admit, that's a big draw for me as well as #18 in tight football pants, it's lookign like some Facebook Marketing is going to see some air time. Can't wait to see what they have planned for us this year!
So, yeah...this is short - but I may have LOTS to discuss after tonight's premiere of Lost! Can't wait to see me some Sawyer!!!
And, if it's commercials that you watch for, and I admit, that's a big draw for me as well as #18 in tight football pants, it's lookign like some Facebook Marketing is going to see some air time. Can't wait to see what they have planned for us this year!
So, yeah...this is short - but I may have LOTS to discuss after tonight's premiere of Lost! Can't wait to see me some Sawyer!!!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Pick Me! Pick Me!
So yeah, I have prepared my application to the Marethouse/Candy95 Fitness Challenge. I'll be dropping it off tonight right before I go to dinner with Alan at Sodalak's steakhouse, where I plan to have chicken fried steak and gravy. An exercise in irony? Or irony in exercise?
Up until lately, I have always thought that I was too terrible of a driver to ever worry about cholesterol or obesity killing me. But, as I have gotten older, I have realized that some things are worth getting healthier for. Two of those things are my children. Even though there is not a day that goes by that I don't want to strangle one, or both of them, I still love them and want to be healthy enough to see them become real people.
That's why I decided to enter this contest. It's not about losing weight or eating right (I mean yeah...there is that). It's about being healthy; living a longer and fuller life. Hell, I had to send a picture in with my application and it was an aerial photograph! If I ever went missing, they'd have to use all four sides of the milk carton for my picture!
All kidding aside, if I win....I will make my faithful readers proud. I will lose weight, I will get healthy and I will change my life. Maybe change yours too, who knows? I might even develop more than a casual relationship with my toes and be able to touch them one day - rather than just wave from a distance. Pray for me folks. And if I am not chosen, pray for me anyway....but pray harder for the people who do get chosen. Chances are, they need more help than I do and stand to gain a lot in return. Anyone that needs help more than me....also needs more prayers!
Piece O'Pie Out!
Up until lately, I have always thought that I was too terrible of a driver to ever worry about cholesterol or obesity killing me. But, as I have gotten older, I have realized that some things are worth getting healthier for. Two of those things are my children. Even though there is not a day that goes by that I don't want to strangle one, or both of them, I still love them and want to be healthy enough to see them become real people.
That's why I decided to enter this contest. It's not about losing weight or eating right (I mean yeah...there is that). It's about being healthy; living a longer and fuller life. Hell, I had to send a picture in with my application and it was an aerial photograph! If I ever went missing, they'd have to use all four sides of the milk carton for my picture!
All kidding aside, if I win....I will make my faithful readers proud. I will lose weight, I will get healthy and I will change my life. Maybe change yours too, who knows? I might even develop more than a casual relationship with my toes and be able to touch them one day - rather than just wave from a distance. Pray for me folks. And if I am not chosen, pray for me anyway....but pray harder for the people who do get chosen. Chances are, they need more help than I do and stand to gain a lot in return. Anyone that needs help more than me....also needs more prayers!
Piece O'Pie Out!
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