Thursday, March 29, 2007


Lately I've been so thankful for everything!

I find myself saying thanks to god for the smallest of things.

So much so that I feel like a total suck up.

"God, thanks for sending that flock of birds just now, I needed that".

"God, thanks for giving me a seat with a wonderful view while I work my second job performing mindless oopma-loompa-like work".

"God, thank you for letting me get the last banana Popsicle. You know how these greedy people in my house can be".

"God, thank you for making me slam on my breaks, when that firetruck almost wiped my daughter and I off the face of the earth. (Well that one was legitimate).

"God, thank you for keeping me from killing my husband." (I guess that's a big one too).

"God, thank you for the invention of toilet paper, because really, what would we do without it?"

It gets pretty ridiculous at times and the other day I thought to myself, "when does giving too much thanks become sucking up?" Is God up there screening his prayers because of me and people like me?

I can picture him saying " GEEZ ALREADY!" Or "Oh not this one again!" or "this one is really clogging up my voice mail!" "Peter, can we put this one on the DO NOT PRAY LIST?

Well, I guess I'll find out if ever I get up there, won't I?

Wednesday, March 28, 2007


First off I love my husband; however, he is a psycho when it comes to crust. Well, he’s pretty out there about a lot of things but this takes the cake (cake doesn’t have crust does it?).
I hate crust. He hates that I hate crust. I hate that he hates that I hate crust. He accuses me of influencing the children to hate crust. Who the hell cares! There is no nutritional value in crust is there? So what if I don’t make them eat every flippin crumb of dry, flakey, mouth dehydrating, dusty, evaporated, impoverished part of the whatever it is that happens to have inherited it.
Honestly, I hate and therefore the children hate; Crust from sandwiches, pop tarts, pot pies, PIZZA, waffles (I hate waffles all together), toast, pannini, the outer crust on pies, all types of pies (unless the crust is graham cracker), Tart Crust, Streusel Crust, braised and roasted domestic lamb shank with Gorgonzola Crust, Lasagna Crust, CRUSTY FRENCH BREAD and CRUSTY HARD ROLLS. I could go on and on but you get the point.

Anyhow, for the longest time, my husband would carry on about how wasteful I was and what a horrible mother I was because I refused to promote Crust and raise Crust loving offspring. I was labeled a loser because of my distaste for all Crust.

He used to threaten everyone in the house to “not dare touch another slice of pizza unless we had finished the outer crust of the slice we had on our plates”. Meanie!

It wasn’t until one day that I pitched a major protest by holding a piece of toast in the air and threatening to scrape it and disperse crumbs all over the floor sending him into shear panic and complete obedience. (I’ll have to write about his obsession with sweeping the floors, especially for show when guests come over. Look for that blog in the future).

Anyhow, he has since stopped with the Crust Gestapo antics about any crust from any type of food that we choose not to eat. Fear not though as he is onto other inconsequential rants about insignificant things. Thanks to diesel of (antisocial commentary), I was inspired to vent about my spouse’s antics and I am now feeling much better for it. My husband has many great attributes but I don’t need to vent about those so I will only focus on the negative. Hopefully, my ranting will inspire others to shamefully air out their dirty laundry online to complete strangers for the pure satisfaction of having had the very last word.
:0) Have a great day and feel free to throw out your crust in support of me and my children! DEATH TO CRUST!

Saturday, March 24, 2007


I just Don't get it! Does your dog do this? When company comes over, our dog Max gets excited and thinks everyone wants to watch him try to get it on with poor Gator.

There's just somethin WRRRONG about this!

Please, not in front of the guests Max!

Even the cat thinks he has issues
"Good god, will you people just get him fixed already?"
Poor Gator! It's cheap entertainment at his expense!

Monday, March 12, 2007


I’m not the type of person who needs very much in life.
As long as the bills are paid and no one is threatening to shut anything off or take something away, I’m a very content person. Oh yeah, food in the house is a plus. Sure, I won’t lie and say I don’t love technology, cool gadgets, fixing up my home and things of that sort, but materialism isn’t something I’m addicted to. I could live without it. It doesn’t take much to please me at all. In fact I’m the happiest person on earth when all I own is security.

Like for instance, the security of toilet paper. Nothing makes me feel more like I have a million bucks than a 36 roll package of quality toilet paper. I feel like…life is beautiful owning that much certainty. Just knowing you can go anytime and not have to hold it or worse, search for something similar, is pure ecstasy.
You know what I’m talking about! Don’t act like you’re above it. It happens to everyone. Not men though, in the case of #1, because you can just shake it off. But for females, it’s a double shot. (don’t even get me going about how females got the short end of the stick (no pun intended) in terms of bodily functions). That is a totally different tangent.

Anyhow, back to the abundance of toilet paper and cloud 9.
I am just thrilled beyond belief when I bring home a GI-NORMOUS package of toilet paper. Crack has nothing on double rolls! I take it all out, fill the cabinets that are positioned right in front of the toilet until they are jam packed and then I top it off with a huge pyramid I like to call QUILTED HEAVENLY PEACE OF MIND. I could sit and stare at it for hours. The cabinet doors are glass, so it’s just a wonderful view during every experience in the bathroom.

This is what makes me such a great person to buy presents for. I would love to receive a GI-NORMOUS package of toilet paper for Christmas. You would think my husband would figure this out and use it to his advantage, but no, as usual he has to go against the grain and come home with a measly generic brand, 1-ply 4 pack. I know he does it to annoy me! We have 5 people in our house. 3 of us are female ‘for you know whose sake’! So, dearest of family & friends out there who are reading this, especially those of you who shop at Sam’s or Costco, when you’re strolling the paper isle (or skipping as I do) think of me. Try it out for yourself. You’ll call me and thank me! By the way, my birthday is coming up in June and my favorite brand is Cottonelle. Splurge, I’m worth it! :0)

Sunday, March 11, 2007


I love to torture my kids! (This is not a picture of me by the way)
I get so much pleasure out of it! Why not?
They’ve been doing it to me for years!
Right now they're all teenagers, so I figure why wait for them to have children of their own so I can enjoy the curses I’ve placed on them? It’s pretty entertaining and it instantly takes the stress off me.
For instance, every parent goes through this. You’re on one side of the house and one of your children calls out for you from where ever they are. MOM….MMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOMMMM?
I don’t know about you, but that used to dissolve my skeleton. I’d get upset, have to stop what I was doing and yell back STOP YELLING FOR ME FROM ANOTHER ROOM UNLESS YOU’RE BLEEDING OR ON FIRE! Come and find me if you need me.
After years and years of this, they still don’t get it। So now, instead of getting upset, I remain quiet. Quiet as a mouse forcing them to get up and search for me, still calling out for me at the top of their lungs of course. I hide. I literally hide in a closet or under the bed and snicker while I listen to them search for me. Then when they are out of site I return to what I was doing still quiet so they wont find me right away. When they find me its: “Wow mom, where were you? Didn’t you hear me calling you? I was looking all over for you”. I simply say “oh sorry…didn’t hear ya!”. :0) I’m not a great liar so they knew I heard them which made it even better. I still had to hear the ear melting, nerve splitting hollering but it was a small price to pay to see their exhaustion and to know that the tables were now turned.

It doesn’t happen very much anymore. Now they just yell out “Mom, which room are you in?” I don’t think they’ve caught on to the hiding aspect yet.
I have so many different ways to torture them. It’s the little things that help keep my sanity in tact. Try it sometime. If they catch you hiding, what is the worst that can happen? Lots of laughter and hopefully they’ll get the point. (Don’t try this with children under the age of 12). They might mimic you with the hiding part. Totally defeats the purpose!

The Price of Being Nice

I love being nice to people. It really does pay off with just little gestures as simple as holding a door open for someone. I get a kick out of how appreciative people are when you hold a door, especially when they are still a couple of feet away. It leaves you with a warm and fuzzy feeling for at least 30 seconds. It's almost as if people are shocked that chivalry still exists, and practiced by a woman no less. I really love holding the door open for men. They always seem perplexed for a moment and then unnerved that a female (an unusually petite one at that) did the deed they think they should have done.
I also make it a point to clear my own table at restaurants and diners, smile and greet as many people I make eye contact with and so on. Though I must confess that while being nice pays in the form of good feelings sometimes there are those people out there who are not as appreciative of, nor do they deserve the goodwill gesture and turn the deed into intentions of murder; which brings me to my biggest pet peeve.

When I’m driving, I try to be as polite a driver as often as possible and almost always extend the right of way to oncoming traffic and pedestrians.
Many times I have to negotiate with one of my multiple personalities on whether I should let someone else proceed and hold people up in back of me or just drive and let the waiting person be stuck forever in limbo until traffic clears. I would feel too guilty, so I almost always win the negotiation and the prize is indeed the warm & fuzzies, especially if they are courteous enough to acknowledge the deed with an enthusiastic nod or wave.

Every now and then there are those pedestrians that I’ll stop and wait for. Whenever I’m on the other side of that transaction and someone else stops and lets me cross, I’m grateful! I smile...wave… mouth a quick thank you, and then I speed up my pace to get out of their way quickly so they can move on.
Now it seems almost inevitable that when I am the driver and I extend that courtesy to pedestrians, they don’t do any of the above. They slowly meander about like constipated penguins in the desert with no tomorrow insite and then I’m left to feel terrible that I’ve held up the drivers in back of me. It’s then that find myself fist fighting my alter ego who wants to put the pedal to the floor and flatten the inconsiderate sloth. Road rage, you’ve gotta love it.

Speaking of road rage, I really hate it when someone pulls out in front of me. I’m usually pretty mild mannered, however, road rage always seems to get the better of me. I purchased some magnetic company signs for the doors of my car. I would love to use them but after one experience of road rage which entailed a lot of obnoxious honking, screaming and yelling and a couple of obscene hand signals (which are not covered in your DMV driver’s handbook by the way), I decided it’s probably not the best promotion for myself or my company. The driver I had just inflicted all of that hostility on, could have been my future client!

The other day my husband invited a friend from work over for dinner whom had never been to our city. I was driving home from work to meet them when all of a sudden a guy in a huge truck shot out in front of me forcing me to slam on my brakes. As I did this he proceeded to come to a crawl instead of correcting his bad move by speeding up so I wouldn’t hit him. I laid on my horn like a lunatic and flailed my arms about. After a few minutes I gained my composure and while the driver of the truck drove ahead of me repeatedly looking back in his rearview mirror, I started to feel paranoid and began to pray that it wasn’t our dinner guest on his way to our house.
I find it so much easier to be nice and feel good about it for a few seconds after, than to be rude and feel guilty for hours. Weeks in my case! :0)