Random Tuesday Thoughts: the one where I sit this one out

 

I'm going to bench myself this week due to hormonal issues.  My real-life BFF is stepping in, as she usually does, because she's way more together than me, and also she has 3 children so she doesn't have time to suffer from mental crises.  I'll be back soon with the 'good' kind of crazy, in the meantime, enjoy!

Hello Everybody!  It’s me!  FoN!  You have no idea who I am?  That’s because I normally live here.  I’m just a temp this week because Keely has finally made good on her threat to call in sick and has bestowed upon me the awesome responsibility of hosting RTT today.  And I appreciate that because I have really sucked lately and I needed an assignment.

I bet you all have the goods on this already, but if you’re new around these parts here are your instructions – just write down the first random stuff that pops in your head.  It’s like the Rorschach test of blogging. 

But no one will be able to use it against you at any impending commitment hearings.

Shall we?

It’s Halloween this weekend and with three kids that is a big deal in my house.  I have always loved Halloween and usually celebrate it with gusto.  Gusto this year means working the refreshment table at my children’s elementary school Halloween dance.  Twenty years ago I would have honoured Halloween by dressing up as a kitty/nurse/bunny and getting shitfaced while trying desperately to win the limbo contest at the bar.  I was really just secretly happy to have an excuse to go out in public looking like a pre-op transsexual prostitute (who had whiskers/stethoscope/ears). 

A few years after my dress-like-a-whore phase ended I did rock a pretty awesome Bride of Frankenstein costume.   I found an old wedding dress at the thrift store and covered it in fake blood and then found a beauty school student willing to give me the hair.  I spent 8 hours at the salon while she took my long, thick, curly hair and wove it around a basket, teased the living shit out of and then used an entire bottle of hairspray and about six hundred thousand bobby pins to keep it standing straight up.  It looked awesome.  The part I didn’t quite think through?  Getting all that shit out of my hair at 3:00 am while drunk and puking.  Trust me when I say it’s not easy vomiting up tequila and hotdog with three feet high Bride of Frankenstein hair. 

I remember vividly sitting on the toilet with my head between my knees crying and swearing  while trying to figure out how I would explain to my coworkers on Monday why there was a basket on my head.

It’s cooling off here at an alarming rate and it is inevitable that winter is just around the corner.  I hate winter.  Winter only has two redeeming qualities – the fact I will have no reason to wear shorts, tank-tops or bathing suits for at least eight months and I can use that time to convince myself that This Year! I will finally stick to that whole diet and exercise thing and then by the time summer rolls around next year I will be able to wear those shorts, tank-tops and bathing-suits with pleasure because I will  be super thin and fabulous… and Christmas.

I’ve been so swamped at work lately I have finally talked the powers-that-be into letting me hire an assistant.  I’m really grateful for the help, but I’ll be working with this person extremely closely and I need to not wish them dead.  I can make most ‘work’ relationships positive, but this person will be with me the whole day every day and I need to actually like them.  It’s super important, but I can’t tell if someone is cool by their resume.  And If I hire someone who annoys the shit out of me I will be in a worse position than I am now.  I want to ask them questions in the interview like, “Do others frequently tell you to shut the fuck up?”  and “What do you think of Katy Perry songs?”  and “If you had to have sex with either Glenn Beck or Satan, who would you choose?”

That last one is kind of a trick question because Glenn Beck IS Satan.  Anyone who gets that question right I will hire immediately.  I could train them up on the rest.

Alright…. I’ve probably outstayed my welcome now.  I’m like that karaoke host who keeps getting up to sing his own songs even though he has had my request to sing Sister Christian for over an hour.

He’s an asshole.

I don’t want to be an asshole, so shuffle up and deal folks!

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Toddlers - Worlds Worst Travelling Companions

Today's guest poster is non other than Sprite's Keeper. She took the high road and didn't post about booze or nudity, but now I'm officially stressed that my kid won't fit INTO the Pack n' Play. Thanks, Jen! I owe you one. Really. Ahem, so, when's your next flight?

Huh. The blogosphere in Canada looks surprisingly similar to the blogosphere in Florida. Except they say things like "eh" and "ya" and "God save the queen." (Who saves the king? What's his safety net?) Anyway, I'm sure you've gathered by now that Keely took the kid and the husband and traipsed across the Canadian provinces for some well deserved quiet time and asked a few of us to handle her site for the day. Of course, I am always happy to do so, but I do believe in equality among the posting masses so she'll owe me one. In fact, we're going on our own holiday come Labor Day so I may ask for some payback that Monday. (Ooh, wait. That's also the first Monday of the month, a HASAY day. That may work. If she loses weight, and she's been running so she should be losing, then I can reap the benefits. If she gains weight, I can just say, "Hey, that was Keely writing on my site! I'm being good!" I like this plan..

Wow, that tangent took up a lot of space.

Last week, when Keely was stressing over the trip and carting a Pack'n'Play across planes, trains, and possibly buses, I expressed sympathy (and maybe an LOL) (and those of you who read my comments, I do NOT LOL) and found my topic for my guest post. (Which I thought was more in taste than booze and nudity.) (If you were in the same email thread that I was, you'll know what I mean.) I miss our Pack'n'Play. Badly. It really was the best baby item we had for Sprite. Anywhere we went, she was set for a place to sleep. Spending the weekend at my parents as often as we do when visiting the East Coast, it took less than a minute to set her up for a nap or the night. She was comfortable, she was content, she was CONTAINED. (Can I stress the contained part any more? It really does bear a second emphasis. CONTAINED!!)

When we were planning our registry and all the crap we would have to bring into our home to keep a kid happy, the Pack'n'Play was the first thing we zeroed that scanning gun on. In fact, the only pause in our decision was whether we wanted to "girly" It up or go with a neutral tone in case the next child was a boy. We went neutral. (We're realists.) (And frugal. Do you realize how much those things cost?) We used the Pack'n'Play (later redubbed the Hose'n'Go after a particularly bad blowout as performed by Sprite and an easy clean up with wet wipes. Seriously, no stains! Is there any wonder why I love the damn thing so much?) for almost everything during Sprite's first two years. It served as a bassinet for the first three months when Sprite needed to be close by during those nighttime nursing sessions. Only when she started sleeping through the night (right around that third month) did it stop becoming a major character and resort to guest starring roles when we traveled.

When we vacationed anywhere, that Pack'n'Play had reserved space in our van. We used it everywhere whenever Sprite needed a place to rest her head (or her tushy when we were in places not quite baby friendly). Until..

(You knew this part was coming.)

She outgrew the Pack'n'Play. (Sob!) It just happened so suddenly. Granted, she had already transitioned to a toddler bed since I had caught her with a foot over the crib railing a few months prior and John had decided she could sleep on her Elmo couch one night and she did well, so I knew the day was fast approaching when we would actually have to WATCH her while out of town instead of slamming out a quick lullaby and re-joining the grown ups when her bedtime came knowing she would be safe because, hello? CONTAINED.

So, one night last fall, when we were planning on going out with some friends and my parents were going to "watch her" (quoted because the plan was that she would already be asleep when we left therefore their part of it was to go on about their night since the only thing the toddler was actively doing was drooling) and John and I gave Sprite her abbreviated bedtime routine and left her in the Pack'n'Play. Our friends showed up, we sat in my parents' living room and talked for a few minutes, and I quickly excused myself to check on Sprite one last time before we left.

(Yeah, this is the part. Right here.)

I opened the door to the darkened room and heard her breathing heavily. Huh? Flipping the switch, I found out why. She had climbed out of the Pack'n'Play and was enjoying a late night jump on our aerobed. She saw me see her and immediately crouched down as if that would erase the jumping I had witnessed. Somehow her reasoning was skewed because, um, she was still outside the Pack'n'Play. How would she erase that?

"Hi, Mommy," she panted.

There went my plans. My parents were already in bed, our friends were gearing to go out, and I still had an active toddler on my hands. I brought Sprite out to bestow some good night kisses on everyone and retreated to our room to make sure she fell asleep while John and our friends went out. (I told him to go. One of the people was his best friend who lives in California and this would mark the second time they'd seen each other in five years. Would I make him miss out on bonding with his buddy? Hell no! Would he owe me? Hell yes.)

Since then, we decided it was time to put the Pack'n'Play out to pasture. At least until the next baby comes. Sprite now sleeps on an extra toddler mattress we were given and we stow that one at my parents' since it cannot dismantle for easy traveling the way our Pack'n'Play does (or did). (Sob!) And of course, her journey to the Land of Nod must be supervised now since a toddler can get into a lot of trouble when left alone in any room that hasn't seen a child's intentions in decades. I can only imagine what the nights will be like when we head to Orlando on Labor Day weekend and she has an entire bed to herself. (John and I refuse to share a bed with her. She kicks. A lot.)

So, Keely, here's hoping your vacation brings a lot of happy memories and a lot of restful nights. And here's hoping Xander stays put in his Pack'n'Play and any aspirations for being an Olympic pole vaulter wait until you're back home and not worried about other people's possessions.

Librarians never forget. Or maybe that's elephants.

Today we're hosting everyone's favorite librarian, Michele from It's a Dog's Life. I thought I'd post this on a Sunday, because nothing says 'wholesome Sunday' like librarians, tequila, and table dancing...

Keely was looking for people to guest blog while she went on vacation. By asking me and several others to provide content for her blog she really must need that vacation; BAD! I mean really, with the crazy emails going back and forth between all of us she really had to have been at her last resort to contemplate using any of us. Silly, silly girl! *shakes head slowly*

Somehow it transpired that the theme of this party was going to be clothing optional. I’m pretty much sure this idea started with Captain Dumbass, but don’t me quote in on it. I’m totally disavowing any knowledge of the whole thing. I’m so much older than the rest of the group I’ve decided that I’m going to claim dignity because of age. The rest of you can bite me.

So firing myself up with that plucky Pinot Noir that I have been laying down for a special occasion (Hey, this is special. It’s the first time I’ve been asked to guest blog. It qualifies). I girded my loins (no easy task) to write about a rather interesting, typical embarrassing moment in my budding career as mail order phone representative for Recreational Equipment Incorporated (REI). Read it and weep.

In 1990 I worked as a mail order operator for REI. We took orders from recreational enthusiasts from all over the world. In the fast paced high stress world of recreational equipment the mail order division of REI was world class. Our sales figures were astronomical. I like to think that my contribution was undisputable (I think that this is a pretty safe statement since it was like a hundred years ago).

Our sales were so high the upper level never to be seen or heard from management decided to give us a party. A party that would be held on a large boat that cruised around Lake Washington, Lake Union and the Ship Canal area of Seattle. A party that happened to fall on my 31st birthday. You can see the problem in this.

We had the party. We had a really good time. We drank too much. I drank way too much. My friends at REI thought it would be fun to toast my birthday way too much. I drank way too much. Have I said that? Yes? Well, it bears repeating. My friends decided to dance too much. I danced too much. Then I drank too much. Do you see the theme here?

As the night went on I drank, danced, and partied too much. JR got my back on this one. He’s good at that and it’s a damn good thing because obviously I have no sense of decorum. And tequila and I don’t play well together.

When the boat docked JR and I made our way home from the party. Don’t ask me how. JR probably remembers. Or maybe not, we’re old. Memory is the first to go, don’t you know. We did make it, poured ourselves into bed then suffered a 2 day hangover. Try that with 2 small children at home. I defy anyone to tell me something worse. That’s not a challenge people!

While I was busy recovering REI was buzzing about how the party went. I had no clue what stories were being bandied about but it seemed that I was featured prominently.

When I showed up for work I endured the usual light hearted bantering that co-workers give each other. Then Wally (the CEO of REI and EVERYONES boss) shows up. This is not typical. He would have had to make a special trip over from his rarified offices 10 miles south of our building. The brand new building with the climbing wall and fitness center.

Wally wanders his way through the computer work stations until he gets to me. I’m pretty much speechless (very rare). Our quick exchange went something like this:

Wally: Hi Michele

Me: Ahhhh Hi Wally

Wally: Hey, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

Me: Thanks

Wally: Did you ever find the shirt you stripped off and tossed into the lake on Saturday night?

Me: ………..crickets

The whole call center was cracking up with laughter. Seems it got around that I had stripped my shirt off and was dancing on the tables. I contend this is a pack of lies. JR would never have allowed me to do something like that. He is totally responsible for my clothing or lack thereof when I’ve been drinking tequila. He knows this.

Love,

M

Titles are for suckers

Today one of my very favorite bloggers, Frogmama from Frogs in My Formula, is venting some crap she can't post on her own blog. Isn't that always the best material?

My younger brother armpit farts entire songs—usually at restaurants.
He can also belch the National Anthem. His Facebook updates make me
cringe (e.g., “Just fingered a neighbor’s poodle), and he constantly
pretends to make passes at my husband.

Let's call him "a."

When I first came along, my husband Chuck’s best friend referred to me
as the nameless “Chuck’s girlfriend”—for almost a year. If he wanted
to hang out but Chuck was hanging out with me, he’d have a tantrum. He
told me flat out that he liked Chuck’s ex better. He owns a potato
gun.

Let's call him "b."

Knowing the subzero standards of maturity we’re dealing with here, who
do you think told my two-year-old parrot (and by parrot, I mean
toddler) to say, “My mommy’s a lush,” not once but seven times over
dinner last weekend?

If you chose a or b, you’re wrong.

It was our married, Master’s degree-holding, polite and cultured
friends, Eric and Anne. The ones who enjoy wine and tequila just as
much as the Mullets and who hope to be parents soon themselves. The
ones who recycle and shop at Whole Foods and have careers in child
development and healthcare.

Child development.

People, man. They never fucking cease to surprise me.

(For the record, Mommy is not a lush. And Eric and Anne? We can’t wait
to meet your little parrot.)

Don't forget your hammer pants

Today's guest poster is our favorite Churchpunkmom from Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction. It takes real skill to weave zombies, ninjas, AND nudity into one story, and I'm in awe. For realz. This woman is going places. Hopefully she always takes her dayglo hammer pants.

Hello, this is ChurchPunkMom from Embellished Truth and Polite fiction. Keely asked me to guest post for her and after doing a happy dance all over my rather large house, I sat down, caught my breath, and came up with this story for all you fine readers of the UnMom. She requested something along the lines of "zombies.. and ninjas.. oh! and nudity!" and this is what I came up with.. Enjoy.

For more Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction, feel free to visit my blog.
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Whoosh..

Keely startled and looked up. What on earth?? she wondered. She peered around the small cabin living room in the early morning darkness. She cupped the mug of hot dark liquid with both hands and let it saturate her face with it's warmth as she huddled close to the glow of the flames in the brick fireplace.

She saw nothing.
She heard nothing.

Keely wriggled deeper into the well-worn leather arm chair, a fleece blanket wrapped tightly around her. It was strangely cold for an early October morning. Not that it was never chilly at this time of year, being so far north, that wasn't strange at all. But this particular morning just felt.. odd. The air was cold, the kind of cold that made your eyes hurt and your fingers stiff. It was cold and still, and oddly damp, giving the pre-dawn dark a heaviness she'd never felt before.

Shoomp..

This time Keely felt the air around her shift. Moving with it, she turned just in time to see the swinging door of the kitchen move ever so slightly.. Her heart jumped into her throat and her breath quickened. She jumped just enough to slosh some coffee onto her lap.

"Shit." she muttered under her breath as she did her best to set down the mug without making a sound.

Keely turned, eyes trained on the kitchen door, and rose silently from her chair, gathering her blanket tightly around her as she padded softly across the wooden floor. Her eyes never left the door and she thanked every last start in the sky for her feet not making a sound as she stepped.

She wished she wasn't there alone.

Suddenly the need for a break was not nearly so overwhelming and she wished she hadn't come a couple of days ahead of her husband. She wished he was here.

Keely reached the door and softly pushed it open. much to her surprise, she was greeted through the darkness by a rather white set of cheeks. Ass cheeks, to be precise.

"What the hell!?" she exclaimed oddly enough that the sound of her voice mad her jump. The stranger, however, was un-fazed by her shock. He merely glance over his shoulder at her with an amused grin as he stirred his coffee. It was then that she noticed what appeared to be a sheathed samurai sword tied to his back with a strip of black cloth that cross-crossed around and across his body like some bizarre combination of a greco-roman sandal and papasan. It was just enough to hold the weapon firmly in place while also covering his.. well.. his man bits.

Keely stood there, unmoving, and drooling just a little, as the stranger turned to face her. He leaned against the counter, crossing one leg in front of the other and said, "Shhhh.." as he raised his mug to his lips, his dark eyes examining her from under a black mask.

"Who the hell are you?" Keely hissed at him in a whisper.
"I'm a ninja."
"Um.. yeah. What the hell are you doing in my cabin at 5 in the morning?"
"Zombies." he replied rather succinctly. "But don't worry, I already killed most of them. " he added, taking another sip of coffee.

"Oh my god.. You've got to be shitting me!" Keely blurted out as she held onto the door frame for fear of falling over.

He just stared at her.

"Oh. You're not. Crap." Keely wanted to pinch herself but was too afraid of not waking up to do so. "Wait.. did you say 'most of them' are dead?"

"Yeah.." he replied casually, swirling the coffee in his cup and taking another swig. "No big. I'm sure they'll all be here shortly with all the ruckus you've made."

"Damn." Keely said quietly , turning a lovely shade of beet red, and biting her lip. "So... um.. Why are you naked?"

"Because I'm a ninja."

"Dude.. Last I checked ninjas wear clothes." she said.
"Lady. Clothing causes friction. Friction causes sound. Skin is stealthy... and sexy." he added with a wink.

Keely rolled her eyes. "But to fight zombies?? Can't they... you know.. smell you??"

"No." Ninja answered letting out hearty chuckle. "Like I said I'm a ninja. Besides, zombies are slow. By the time they catch wind of me, it's to late for them." he explained, making a slicing motion across his neck with one hand.

Just then they heard a loud crash in the living room. Keely spun around, dropping her blanket on the floor and revealing her hyper-color t-shirt and fluorescent orange and black Hammer pants. Three of the zombies that had entered her cabin dropped dead from the horror of her hideous early 90s fashion. She looked back over her shoulder but the ninja was already gone - coffee cup already washed and set carefully in the dish drying rack.

Turning back to the living room, Keely watched the ninja work - or rather watched the effects of his work, as he was merely a blur of skin and sword - as he flipped ans pun through the small cabin, slaying zombies and tossing the now twice-dead carcasses out onto the lawn.

As the final undead villains were vanquished, he slid his sword back in it's sheath and turned to her once more.

"Well, all finished!" he announced.
"That's it then?" she asked, a little taken aback at his brevity.
"Yep. Thanks for the coffee.. and your.. uh.. help," he added as he examined her outfit and wrinkled his nose.

"You're welcome." she answered, folding her arms across her chest. "Never underestimate the power of comfy clothes."
"Um.. yeah. Well, I guess I'll be going then!"
"But... but what if they come back??" she asked, sounding a little uneasy and maybe a tad desperate.
"Don't worry." he answered. "Just.. uh.. don't change."
"Alright." Keely answered. "But please.. get your shit off my lawn."