The More You Know...

I was taking in my daily dose of mindless celebrity gossip a minute ago and I found this article. Apparently Puff Daddy (I'm old school like that) can do it for 30 hours.

My immediate response was the obvious, "Oh, ick." Once that wore off I realized that I need to make a public service announcement for our male readers...

No woman in the history of the world has ever wanted to have sex for 30 straight hours. Except maybe a hooker who gets paid by the hour. (Which I guess is all hookers. It seems like an hourly gig. What would a yearly salary for a hooker be? Whatever Julia Roberts got paid in Pretty Woman x 52, I guess.) Anyway, ouch! And with only strawberries and whipped cream for sustenance. Buy the woman a burger! I wonder for how many of those 30 hours his girlfriend was actually awake.

Guys, in case you didn't know, bragging about your abilities in the bedroom (or especially a Parisian hotel room) makes you sound like an insecure loser. And saying you can do it for 30 hours straight makes you sound like an insecure liar. An insecure liar who has never had sex with or possible ever met a woman before because if you had you would know how stupid this sounds. I'm not saying I don't believe in the tantric thing. It's not that it couldn't be done, it's that no woman would let you do it to her. Also, I'm not sure it's safe. In that Cialis commercial with the old people in a bathtub in the middle of a field without reasonable explanation they say that if it lasts more than 4 hours you need to seek medical advice.

Diddy can you hear me?

I just googled "70 inch DLP"

In loving response to this post...

I just googled "cute baby"

I don't really want a baby at the moment. I know that logically it makes sense for us to wait a couple of years, but sometimes I want to be ready for a baby. It's a mind vs. uterus issue which bubbles to the surface every once in a while, like when I see a cute pregnant lady or when it's time to refill my birth control. And that's when I get to googling.

Anyway, this is what I found...

I think this is the cutest single creature I have ever seen. I do want a baby, a furry one! But sadly, that is more like 10-15 years off because we have to wait for Cat to kick it before we can get another one. And she is only four and has already survived being hit by a car and God seems to have filed her under "Too Mean to Die."

Also, I found this.


It's crib bedding called Scary Fish. How adamantly hip and non-conformist do you have to be to think this would be cute in your baby's room?

I got a love letter today...

...from a first grader. Here's an excerpt:

"I hope you had a grate day. You are cute. I love you. You are my girl frend."

The other side had a picture of us kissing under a rainbow. After he gave it to me we had an awkwardly long hug. And I didn't know what to do to make him stop standing there staring at me so I asked him to pick up trash off the floor. He crawled around for literally 10 minutes and picked up every scrap of paper on the classroom floor. And then he brought me this giant wad of trash, his face a mix of pride and a longing for validation. It kind of reminded me of Husband, which I'm sure he will find offensive, but I sincerely mean that in the most positive way. Also, being a chick is awesome!

Screw teaching the children

If I could have any job in the world I would work in some capacity on The Office. I have never had any aspirations to move to Hollywood before, but I enjoy writing and I have lots of inspiration from years spent in a very dysfunctional office, so I think I could be on the writing staff. Plus, don't sitcoms have like 50 writers or something? How much funny stuff does any one person actually have to come up with? I already have my first idea to pitch at our next story meeting...

The folks at Dunder Mifflin begin a Weight Watchers at Work series (although they would probably have to call it something else, like maybe Tubby Talkers or Chunky Monkeys or something). Weight Watchers does this thing where the come to an office one lunch hour per week and hold a meeting with the employees. Toby would hand out fliers from corporate and explain that it's part of a new wellness initiative. Here are my ideas for some scenes...
• Pam would ask what it's all about and Toby would explain that she's not really Chunky Monkey material and it would be awkward because he has a crush on Pam to which she is oblivious. (Thanks Husband for this one!)
• During Michael's confessional on the topic he says he has nothing against fat people and then uses terms like "more cushion for the pushin'" and "badonkadonk" to illustrate his tolerance.
• The first meeting is about to begin and Michael tells Phyllis they'll just wait for her to get started. And she's all offended and says Bob Vance likes her just the way she is.
• Meredith wants to know if tequila and gin have the same points. What about lime juice?
• Kelly joins and is all upset that Ryan is not being supportive. She wants him to come over so they can cook a week's worth of healthy lunches and go on walks around the high school track. Ryan make lots of exasperated faces in his confessional.
• Kevin comes to the meetings but does nothing else to stay "on program." He brings a chili dog to the meeting and talks about this machine where you exercise just by standing on a platform.
• Creed does not go to the meetings but suddenly starts bringing in cinnamon rolls, donuts, etc. every morning.
• Dwight asks Angela if she's up for some activity points. Nudge, nudge.
• The group discusses the points for baby carrots. Angela points out that the welcome booklet clearly states that baby carrots are one point per cup. Stanley says he didn't get fat by eating carrots and he's going to count them as zero. Angela rats him out to the leader.
• Angela joins and at the third meeting she is all proud of herself because she has finally made it to goal after losing 6 pounds. She tells everyone else that if she can do it, they can do it! Lots of silent, deadly looks.
• Angela is irritated that the others are not taking the program seriously. She complains to Dwight, and he and Michael take it upon themselves to create a Biggest Loser competition. He makes Pam be Caroline Rhea. Michael wants the fat people to pull rickshaws in which he and Dwight would ride, but he can't find a rickshaw in Scranton so he and Dwight sit in wheelbarrows and try to get Stanley and Kevin to push them.

That's all I've got so far. I didn't include Karen because she will be off at the Albany branch mourning her failed relationship with Jim soon. Also, while everyone else is in the meeting Jim and Pam will be making out in the break room.

Note to the producers of The Office: This story is copyrighted or whatever so you can't use it unless you pay me. I will accept cash or an uncomfortably long hug from John Krasinski.

I love Jam

No, note the grape stuff. I'm a big fan of unadulterated peanut butter, but I digress. I'm talking about Jim and Pam, of The Office. I care about them way more than anyone I actually know, including Husband, and I understand what that says about me but don't care at all. I can't wait for them to have babies. For the unitiated, here's a primer...



Of course, since then Jim hooked up with skanky Karen. Actually, Karen really loves Jim and isn't a skank at all. But Jim loves Pam and they are going to have babies together. I just know it. They just can't be together right now, but I know they will be soon. It's very early Ross and Rachael if Ross wasn't weird and ugly. I'm sure this must be unbelievably boring for those of you who never watch The Office. If you are one of those people I just offer my condolences because you are totally missing the best show on television.

Maybe they need a puppy

Just recently a couple of family members have inquired about our plans to procreate. On my side of the family it seems to take the form of morbid curiosity. "You aren't going to have kids yet, are you?!" However my in-laws are ready to be grandparents. To their credit, they haven't actually told me this. Yet. But the evidence is mounting nonetheless...

1. At Thanksgiving Father-in-Law showed us these. They make pancakes in the shape of choo-choo trains and other cute things. Mother-in-Law tried to bust them out for breakfast one morning but Father-in-Law wouldn't let her. He told me he was saving them for the grandchildren. I suggested he store them in the attic.
   
2. When we were in Arkansas Husband's cousin told us he heard that we were ready for kids soon. Apparently this came from Father-in-Law during their last visit. Hmm. Husband told Cousin that we just got a dog and are in awe of that responsibility.
   
3. When Father-in-Law says/does these things Mother-in-Law gives us a very exasperated "yooouuur faaaahther" eye roll. But we recently learned that she has been hoarding toys for the non-existent grand kids. Busted!

The only reason I am amused and not annoyed by this is that Husband's sister is 31 and has been married a year longer than we have, so clearly the baby ball is in her court. Being 30 is really funny until it happens to you. And luckily I have three more years to go.

Seriously, if they say anything to my face I am going to tell them that I am ready but Husband won't let me have a baby. And if they keep asking they are totally getting a box with holes punched in the side and a big red bow on Christmas morning. I think it really helps that my mom has a puppy to serve as a surrogate grandbaby.

Home Again, Home Again

Husband and I are back from Arkansas. On our way back into town we stopped by my parents' house to pick up Dog. We sat in the backyard talking for awhile and I kept saying, "Hmm, let me think, did anything else interesting happen in Arkansas?" In fact, nothing of much interest happened in Arkansas. Both the people and the places we visited had all seen better days, I'm afraid. I wish I had interesting stories with which to regale you, but I don't. Instead here's a list of things I learned about Husband/our marriage after spending 178 hours straight with him.

1. He loves him some Walmart. At home we almost never go to Walmart (see wakeupwalmart.com), but in Arkansas it's pretty hard to avoid. I forgot to pack my swimsuit and extra batteries for the camera so we stopped by a Walmart one evening after dinner. We left with no swimsuit but the batteries and about $50 worth of other crap. You ladies out there are familiar, I'm sure, with the Rule of Target, which dictates that it is virtually impossible to spend more than 15 minutes in a Target without spending at least $100. I propose a new Rule of Walmart, which is basically the same but with a $50 minimum expenditure, cause that crap is cheap! I asked Husband what he loved so much about Walmart and he said that it is like the world's biggest garage sale, with cheap amusing crap around every corner. And amused he was, for about 45 minutes longer than I cared to be at a Walmart.
   
2. We have grown a little too comfortable around each other. I have always insisted that we close the door when using the restroom because I think it's healthy to have a little mystery. Plus I grew up in a freely-peeing house and it kind of creeps me out that my parents would have whole conversations over a good pee. It seems I need to amend our rule to include talking about going to the bathroom as well. And boobies and man parts too. Today I was making a grocery list and Husband said, "don't forget the chicken tits!" I'm not sure when our relationship devolved into a live-action episode of Family Guy, but I would like it to stop.
3. It works out better for everyone when I tell Husband what to do and he just does it. I'm talking specifically about how much less stressful it is when he drives and I navigate, but I'm sure this dynamic could transfer easily to other aspects of our lives.
   
4. I am way better at packing up a car than Husband is. I am okay with the fact that saying this means I will be packing up the car for every road trip for the rest of our lives. With great power comes great responsibility.
5. Husband was apparently confused by our honeymoon. No, freak, I didn't pack a different silky nightgown for every night. I packed a pair of sweatpants. Reserving a room with a king-sized bed here at the Comfort Inn was not intended to be a sexual overture.
   

Going on a little vacay

Husband has recently fallen in love with the word vacay, mainly because I hate it. Even if I approved of the term vacay, I still think it would not apply in this case. To me vacay(tion) implies something that requires a bikini wax or new ski boots. This is more of a trip. We are off to spend eight glorious days in Arkansas. It was going to be seven days but we had to add a day because Husband's grandmother said we can't come on Thursday since that is the day she gets her hair done. We have chosen to find this adorable and not infuriating.

I am starting to feel guilty about leaving Dog. He will be staying at Grandma and Grandpa's house (a.k.a. my parents, who would not think that was cute at all). He used to have major separation anxiety and I am afraid he will regress. And also I just love him, in a way a childless woman loves the cutest baby-sized thing in her life. I feel it in my uterus. He is so handsome and he is such a good boy.

I am not so sad to leave Cat, or Fucking Cat as Husband likes to call her. It sounds mean, or at least trashy, but it is so appropriate. Here's a picture of her in our Christmas tree to illustrate. As I am typing this she just hopped up on the sofa with the sole purpose of hissing at Dog. And now she is under the table staring at me. She is like Chuck Norris, in that she doesn't sleep, she waits. Her favorite thing to do is knock over containers of liquid. And she is totally deliberate about it. Just when I'm about to throw her ass in kitty jail (the guest bathroom) she gets all purry and lovey. I have a very dysfunctional relationship with Cat, and it kind of makes me worry about my ability to parent actual children. But I am her kitty momma and I have had her since she was 12 days old and I used to feed her with a bottle and then she would have a drop of milk on her chin which was soooooo cute. So I guess I love her too, begrudgingly.

We will be blog incommunicado until next weekend. Enjoy working, suckers!

Working Girl

I had a job interview today. It is interesting to go on a job interview I actually care about, an experience I haven't had since... ever before in my life. As a liberal arts graduate I pretty much just took whatever job came along that required skills I could figure out myself or learned in high school, like answering a phone, Googling stuff, using various Microsoft Office programs, and adding.

Today was a screening interview for Suburban ISD, which is my preferred employer. It's where I did my student teaching and where I sub now, and also all the schools are within 20 minutes of my house, so that is pretty awesome after commuting an hour each way to grad school for the past year or so. Now that I have successfully contained my stupidity, vulgarity, and emotional imbalance for 30 minutes with the HR lady I am cleared to go on actual interviews with hiring committees at various schools.

But alas, it is not that simple. My mom is a teacher in neighboring Urban ISD. Since I started grad school she has gently suggested I go work at her school, and lately it has become more of an assumption on her part that I will. The cons are that the school is 30+ minutes away in wretched traffic, the district overall is not as good (not as many services for kids and treats teachers like crap), and this is the elementary school I went to so many of the teacher have known me since I was 5. The rest go to happy hour with my mom and I am frankly kind of scared of some of them, including the principal. I'm afraid everybody would be all up in my business all the time. I'm sure I will screw up a lot and I'd kinda rather do that anonymously. Also, I hear that it is really, really hard to get a job in Suburban ISD if you have worked in Urban ISD before - they would rather train/brainwash/indoctrinate you to their liking right from the start. So if I choose Urban ISD it might be hard to switch later.

The pros are that the school itself is really awesome and I would have a ton of support from the staff, as scary and meddlesome as they are. Also, it sounds like I am pretty much guaranteed a job as long as don't pee myself during the interview. Plus working in Urban ISD seems the noble thing to do. The kids at my mom's school are a little needier, and the main reason I became a teacher was to make a difference in the life of a child, blah, blah, blah.

Clearly this is a major decision for me, and I don't like those. Would anyone like to tell me what to do? I have about a week to decide. The principal at Urban ISD will have an opening and she will not post it if I want it. And I think if I turn her down now she probably won't be as willing to hold any future positions for me, so it's kind of now or never.

Sometimes when I can't think of something interesting from my own life I just write funny stuff on other people's blogs instead

Here is a link to a post from our friend Clint's blog called Zombie Fights Shark. I don't know what it means, but I think it is some stupid boy thing. Anyway, my hilariousness is one of the first few comments. His original post includes a very funny, very '80s clip from You Tube. I would have put a link to that video right here but I don't know how. Maybe I will update when Husband gets home to show me. Oooh, I feel very post-modern '50s housewife right now. How fun.

Sexy Cold Voice

Well, I am STILL kinda sick. I am excited that the fever and congestion are over, leaving me with a dwindling cough and a scratchy throat. I am just thisclose to Sexy Cold Voice. You know, the voice that makes you sound far more worldly and interesting and generally cool than you actually are. I first discovered the power of the Sexy Cold Voice in college when I went out downtown on the tail end of a cold and got drinks bought for me right and left all night. This was so not the norm for me in college, but I digress. The point of this post was to say that I was excited about my Sexy Cold Voice until just a minute ago when a telemarketer called and asked to talk to my mom or dad. Apparently my cold voice is not sexy at all. Apparently I have a Tween Cold Voice. "Tweens" is what they call nine year-olds now because apparently it's lame to just call them kids. I guess that night in college I was just having a cute hair day or my boobs looked perky or something. How disappointing. Turns out the only thing my cold voice is good for is phone sex with pedophiles. And I already do that. Not really. Ha!

I don't like being 27

I forgot to mention that I turned 27 last week. So far it's a lot like being 26, but sicker. Especially since I now have pink eye. I thought that was something 3 year olds get. Oh, I feel like a kid again.

Scenes from a weekend

Sorry I've gone so long without posting, but I almost died. And by "almost died" I mean that I have a head cold. I don't handle illness well, clearly.

I went to the doctor on Friday hoping I had strep so I could have some drugs. The doctor told me that 85% of sore throats are viral, and only 15% are strep, but he would do a throat culture anyway just to be sure. He told me this at least five times, and I can only assume he did so to stretch the exam to the full seven minutes required by his conscience and my insurance company. He also suggested I pick up some Chloraseptic and cough drops on the way home. I left still unable to swallow and irritated that I had just paid some guy $70 to tell me it sucks to have a cold.

I was supposed to go to a baby shower this weekend, but I hear coughing all over a pregnant woman is frowned upon. Still, I was desperate to get out of the house so Husband took me to Target on Friday night to buy the present and then I made him deliver it on Saturday. At Target I walked really slowly through the baby aisles and said things like, "Oh, look at all the cute stuff we could buy if only I had a baby!" Ladies, for what it's worth, pointing out all the expenses related to babies is not the best marketing strategy to use on your significant other. Instead you might try highlighting all the s e x you get to have trying to make said baby. Husband has said before that he doesn't want us to have trouble conceiving a child, but that he wouldn't mind if it takes a few months. Eww.

Anyway, I spent a good portion of Saturday night browsing through babiesrus.com, pbkids.com, and landofnod.com and googling terms like "modern baby bedding." I found a crib set I really liked and said, "Oh, it's $800." And Husband said, "I can't tell if you think that's really expensive or really cheap." I don't buy hand-embroidered sheets for myself, much less a little baby. They won't remember, and they leak stuff all the time. No wonder he's freaked out about the expense of having a baby! In the end, Husband and I agreed that it is probably good that I've had my latest wave of baby fever during a weekend when I am so grossly snot-laden that the forecast for s exytime is approximately 0%. And that brings me to our last vignette...

WIFE: Cough, cough. Ack ack aaaackum. Uuuugh. Moan. Moan. ACK! Ewwww, gross. That was a green ball!!!! I don't think I've ever seen something that disgusting come out of my body.
HUSBAND: Wanna do it?
WIFE: Please stop touching my boob.

P.S. Husband would like to state for the record that he did a very good job taking care of me this weekend, and I agree. Specifically, he brought be a 3 Musketeers bar and didn't make fun of me when I nibbled off all the chocolate so I could have a bite of pure nougat. The nougat is what makes me feel better.