Friday, July 31, 2009

The last one- promise!

The celebrities:

Happy Hour Sue and I with Queer Eye's Carson Kressley.


Me and the Michelin Man ( he was getting blown- must be why he seems so happy.) There was a blower ( I think it was a machine, but I can't be 100% sure- inflating or fluffing him- take that however you like). There was a definite humming.

Jen and Paula Deen shooting the shit. I love this picture because I imagine they are exchanging the secret to the flakiest pie crust this side of the Mason- Dixon and I'm pegging Jen as a BIG BAKER- you know, in the down time when she's not Twittering or cleaning up her newborn baby boy's puke out of her mouth!

The Swag:

Everyone wants to know about the swag. I was a swag whore, but not in the bad way. I didn't knock anyone down in the process and only took what was offered to me. I still have bruises up and down my arms for having to carry 5 extra bags on the train full of swag- I was the swag bag lady.

The angel in endearing lesbian form behind me on the train with the eagle tattoo on her arm helped me board the train- bless you- I don't care what the conservatives say, there's a special place in heaven for you.

At last count, some of the highlights were 18 flash drives, 22 tote bags, and one girly toy that is currently tied with my chocolate as "the swag that has provided the most pleasure."

The Fallout:

This blog is my document of my life. Any external components are how they affect me. I try not to bash.

My husband's anxiety is one such thing. My enabling throughout the years had worsened the situation and I made a decision to stop it- or try. Thus my trip to Chicago. It was hard for him- his security, his fear, the unknown. I reacted poorly to his poorly directed concern. Like a rebellious teenager screaming at her dad, yeah, I reacted poorly. But his way of showing his love came across less loving and more controlling. We agreed to disagree, kinda.

All the drama, I knew it would make or break us.

To complicate matters, while in Chicago, my husband indulged and read my blog in length and was not happy. Though I have been conscious to not slander and be entirely vague where he is concerned, he felt hurt and violated. Anything I wrote was not a secret to him and was 100% true, but reading it in an open forum was a shock for him and I felt awful.

The truth has often been my curse.

Sunday night, I was a caffeine jolt away from deleting this blog. I began this journey as a healing process and an outlet. I never wanted to hurt anyone with its content. Never.

I ramble. Many things I say in a sarcastic tone. Unfortunately, my writing may not be as descriptive and translatable as it seems in my head.

As hard as it has been to confront these issues with him, I think, I hope, I pray that it has assisted us in a more open line of communication and directed us toward some healing and awareness.

Obviously, I have not deleted this blog and don't plan to. It's too important to me. I will make an asserted effort to not include him in a negative light as long as he keeps his part of the deal and doesn't give me such rich blog fodder and buys me jewelry, flowers, chocolate, what? I'm easy.

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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Details- Part 1

Roommates:
Heather greeted my sorry ass at the train station. She saved me from a blind man in a wheelchair that befriended me and told me he was going to surprise his nephew in Albuquerque that didn't know he was coming and had never even met before and made me rummage through his grocery bag luggage to pull out a map so he could show me his stalking route- that wasn't weird- at all!

She then helped me drag my broken wheeled suitcase to the bus stop through construction and had the patience of a saint during my cursing of all things living.

I will forever get misty- eyed when I hear the hum of a breast pump and not be able to look over and see Brittany draining her engorged bazookas with her computer on her lap- bitch can multi-task like no one's business. Sniff.

The room was trashed and not once did I try to clean it up. I'm pretty sure even the Hispanic cleaning staff never set foot in the room for fear of stepping on a dirty needle or catching airborne Hepatitis. The coffee and booze that I set on the table throughout the weekend stayed there the whole time. They were an intelligently safe cleaning team.

The best, messiest, and least modest roommates (Anissa) were understanding as fuck with the 7AM wake up calls from my husband that lead to my number of breakdowns. They totally saved the mocking for behind my back and those- are good friends!



Anissa, Me and Brittany (Heather left early- leaving me with a bed all to myself- yay, but of course, I missed her!)


The People:

The first people I met as I was walking into the lobby were these ladies and HOLY SHIT (of the cool as fuck Canadian Brigade) what kind of way to start off my weekend, right? I'm certain they were clueless who I was and have no recollection of meeting me, but, in my mind, we're totally acquaintances.

I met a lot of people. I remember every single one of them because I'm a dork like that-I have a dissociative mind of a steel trap. I won't list them all because the glamour of restraining orders are wading in my mind and they're a pain in the ass. I seriously enjoyed each and every person I met. I will, however, share the ones that I have pictures of... because blackmail is fun.

There should be a law of equity against someone being so god damn beautiful, leggy, and sincerely a nice person- there has to be a balance in the world- and she is proof that life ain't fair. Lisa's energy and charisma could be bottled up and it would outsell heroine easily! (Yeah, I don't look the least bit uncomfortable being in the same picture as her, do I? Self conscious much? At least she crouched down to my level- she's like 3 feet taller than me- she's a giver that way- just another aspect of her perfection- bitch! I mean that in the most loving way, dear!)
The Parties:

Friday night, we attended The People's Party. It was wrought with anxiety and perspiration in there. I'm pretty sure the room contained 200 people over the Fire Marshall's guidelines.

Jill, Brittany, and Me- couldn't push our asses and knock over more bloggers with our swag bags towards the bar fast enough!

When that party started clearing out- the people that knew the schedule and had their shit together went to the Room 704 party-that I totally forgot about. Besides missing out on the candy bar that makes the best sex you've ever had seem rather mediocre in that swag bag (thanks to my roommates for sharing!)- it was all good.
Because with the room winding down, Jenny, The Bloggess, came out of the bathroom! And we totally groped.
Then we (and by we, I totally mean Lisa) asked Nina from Imagination Movers if she would be willing to sign Jenny's boobs and she was all, "well..." and then her publicist jumped in and was all, " um... Hellz to the no," but politely and professional and blushing. You'd have thought she asked to do a blow job to one of her puppets! When Lisa discovered she was on a children's show with puppets- she was mortified- bless her Christian do-gooder heart. But the look on the publicist's face will live with me in hilarious infamy for the rest of my days!

As if that weren't entertaining enough... Jenny says, "that's Nancy"... then I say, "oh my fucking Christ"... (Nancy W. Kappes, paralegal) we compared and contrast medication bottles and hers put mine to shame with all the fun colors and shapes. She shared her vodka disguised as a water bottle with us since the bar had stopped serving.

You can see the combination of fear and excitement in my eyes- the fear was from that gang sign she was doing with her hand!
The Sessions:
On Saturday morning, there was a "speed dating" exercise where you introduce yourself randomly to someone and then move on after about 60 seconds. The first 10 people I met were travel bloggers, photography bloggers, Christian bloggers, and techies- I shit you not. If you have ever read me- you can imagine my eyes glazing over and the panic that began to set in. Then the next few people that I gave a card to- recognized me- they read me- they had been in my crazy mind and, although, that should have totally freaked me out- I was moons over my hammy about it! They reignited my flame- thank you so much!
On Saturday afternoon, HappyHour Sue graced us with her presence and reaffirmed that the friendships made on the interwebz can become lifelong ones! I love her and I'd share my last Xanax with her, if it came to it!

Credit for most of these pictures goes to Lisa- yet another thing she's good at.

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Monday, July 27, 2009

First Blogher Wrap up- oh yeah, there will be more!

I wouldn't have guessed that this would be the hardest post I have EVER written.


The post Blogher post.


The anticipation and expectations are far too high for my post traumatic stress capabilities at this point.

I am still beyond exhausted, my ass aches from 12 hours on an upright train seat, and I have a tapestry burn on my leg from dragging my asinine suitcase with broken wheels 2 city blocks to the bus stop.

I have read great wrap up posts- better than the words that I can currently put together in my fragile state. I met amazing people and can honestly say that I wasn't disappointed in any one person that I met.

Canadians excrete coolness effortlessly- just an observation.

You won't get any trash talking here, not at least until I go through all my pictures so I have evidence.

I learned that I have not made much social advancement since high school. I am still the one that blends into a crowd. I am still the people watcher. I observe and soak it in. I smile and nod. As much as I'd love to be the party animal and life of the party, it is not to be.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel self conscious, though. Call it confidence, call it old age, call it xanax and vodka- whatever. I was excited to be out of the house- to be around all of those amazingly creative people that manipulate the language as an alternate form of expression to the awkwardness that is human interaction.

I know not of the 'drama' that I've heard going around, except my personal brand of baggage that I brought crying and cursing through the streets of Chicago on my cell phone (another story that will need to be carefully crafted for another time.)

What I do know is that flow of tears and humiliation were comforted by hugs, nudges, and a $21 buffet breakfast with people that I had never met.

First impression- FAIL.

They showered me with the warmth of a loving friend of many years and made me feel like a little less of an ass. In my snot infested nervous breakdown moment surrounded by virtual friends, but actual strangers, I felt, for the first time in a long time, like I fit in. I had a place. It was a distant place off in the corner, but still, a place.

This was the reason I went. This was the support and community I found in the cyber world and wondered if it would translate into real life.

I am happy to say that it did.
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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I'm Ready!

I'm overwhelmed with details right now, but so excited that I haven't slept in two days- I know that's going to eventually come back and bite me in the ass.

The packed suitcase on the floor of our bedroom has forced my husband into the next phase of mourning my absence- ACCEPTANCE! Can I get an AMEN? Seriously, this load has been lifted off of me and I actually feel like I can enjoy this trip now.

I've been trying to stock up my house with food, paper supplies, cleaning supplies- anything that might be needed. I've been scrubbing everything down, cleaning out cabinets (you know, so it looks like they are ALWAYS that neat!) As I was writing a note of instructions to the sitter (my husband's Aunt S) it dawned on me that I'm going to be found out soon.

In just about 48 hours, it's going to become clear that I don't do shit. My "stay at home mom of 4 kids" cover is going to be blown.

There were no real directions to write down- no medications, no allergies, no appointments, no special instructions. My kids are like a bunch of trained monkeys and this place runs like a well-oiled machine most of the time. I guess it is to my credit that I trained them. So maybe my new cover should be "animal trainer"- how does that pay?

Aunt S's head might explode when she first hears the fighting since she's a 40 something woman without children- she may not be aware of the overload of estrogen that can rage in girls ages 4,8, and 10. And she might be a little overwhelmed with my 14 year old son's hyperactivity and occasional destruction, but all in all, they're angels.

What does this mean?

I think it means I'm ready. I've done my part here. I've kept the savages fed for this long. 14 years, 4 kids, and only 2 trips to the emergency room- I'd say that's like a, what, 98.7% success rate?(Don't worry, I've kept the math teaching to the professionals.)

I think it means I'm due. I think it means I won't have to hear their fighting for a few days and my headaches will only be vodka-induced. I think it means I've done my job fairly well. I think it means I will be happy to get away for a while because I deserve it. I think it means I will miss them, but I will be better for them when I get back.

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Tuesday, July 21, 2009

premonitions...

At the butt crack of dawn on Thursday morning, I will be driven to a train station for the first time. I will have an over sized suitcase and a duffel bag- that will have approximately 12 outfits, 10 pair of shoes (because it's good to be prepared for 3 1/2 days) and fabulous accessories like this from Sorrelli Jewelry.


(which by the by, they are offering an extra 5% discount on everything - use discount code "BLOGHER5"- even sale stuff...PLUS through Friday- they're having a summer sale of 15% off a $100 purchase- so that's 20% off- marvel at my math skills, do ya?)

Oh yeah- my suitcase will also contain vodka- if you know of some train conductor security measure that may confiscate my liquor, please tell me now!

My husband will make my departure miserable because that's what he does. That's why this will be my breakfast...
I will kiss the little dumplin's good bye for. the. first. time. evah!

Once in Chicago, you may notice a bounce in my step (or stumble, depending on how many Xanax it takes me to get out the door) with a gleeful, yet cluelessly, giddy smile (or glaze). I will be the only one without a Blackberry or i-Phone. I will be using a borrowed laptop that I have no idea how to use. I bought a new Nikon camera- which I also, have no idea how to use, but at least I didn't have to resort to the disposable and Ashton Kutcher is kinda cute and digs old chicks.

I may be groping people I admire in hopes that the greatness may rub off- or just for fun- who knows. I will be in awe of people that have talents that I can only dream of. I may get misty eyed. I will have waterproof mascara.


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Sunday, July 19, 2009

Ready, Set, Aim Low!



First, we have just launched a new, fun, freaking fantastic website called Aiming Low- taking low to new heights. Somehow the witty powers that be that are running the digs over there saw right through my perfect facade **cough** and thought me and my slacker ways would fit in- how right they were. I do have a hunch that some over-achievers have snuck in and infiltrated the place though- because they've been a busy!

My first post is up now and I could use some comment love. I think my niche over there is "the old bitter lady- that doesn't like to shower"- I'll take it. But all of my posts won't be that introspective- promise!

I must now speak about BlogHer-T minus 3 DAYS. OH. MY. GOD!

I told/reminded the husband yesterday about my impending travels. After I took a Xanax. At my son's baseball game surrounded by people.

He was less than thrilled. He really doesn't get it. He really doesn't get blogging. I'm trying my best to keep my cool and hold my tongue before I say something I regret.

He has threatened to go to Europe by himself when I get home- so that seems fair, wouldn't ya say? It would be funny, if it wasn't. If he wouldn't have to take out a second mortgage our house for it- I would throw him a Bon Voyage party myself!

He doesn't "understand why I want to go." Plain and simple- he just doesn't get it and he won't. I don't think there is anything I can say to convince him and his old-fashioned, guarded ways any different. I can't help, but to think how awesome it would be him to say "go, have a good time!" But alas, he won't, he is not fond of me going to meet my "freaky computer friends".

So, yes, this will add to my anxiety, as I was afraid it would, but not take away from my excitement, damn it! I will do this and I will enjoy myself.

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Saturday, July 18, 2009

What BlogHer Means to Me

I remember this time last year- I was new to blogging and kept seeing this term "BlogHer". Every other post I would read mentioned it and my eyes would glaze over because 1.)I didn't know what it was 2.) I wasn't going and 3.) figured I would never be able to go to such a thing.

Oh have times changed!

That's your cue if you're still in the "eyes glazing over" phase- this is probably going to be an all BlogHer- all the time zone for the next 2 weeks- deal!

I now know that BlogHer is a convention of bloggers (mostly women, but not discriminating, but that's where the "Her" comes in). It is in a different place each year- this year- Chicago. You can learn about the business aspect of a blog, advertising, formatting- all the shit I'm clueless about. That's why I probably won't be found in those sessions.

However, it's going to be a hotel full of bloggers.

I have blogged for a little over a year. When I started, my complacency with being a stay at home mom had begun to fade. My husband's anxiety and fear of the unknown had become my sickness as well. I needed an outlet- for what? At that point, I didn't quite know.

I knew I was sad and lonely. I knew I needed something to call my own. I knew I had a lot to say. I knew my creative juices were simmering within me and being held back for fear of political incorrectness. I knew my kids and my husband deserved someone that was happier and well-adjusted.

I have poured my heart and frustration onto the keyboard at times. I have put things out here, I wished I might not have. I have gone through a couple near nervous breakdowns and many bouts of depression. I've shared embarrassing stories and admissions. Through it all, though, I found that outlet I had been looking for. I no longer feel like I'm going to bust. I finally have something that is under my control.

Along the way, I have found a community of people that understand, empathize or just listen. I've found so many times that I'm not the only one feeling the way I do.

The only weird thing about this, to many, and I suppose to me also, is that these people that have given me such hope, talked me through difficult times and been there as a support system- I have never met.

That's where BlogHer comes in. I finally get to meet some of these people "In Real Life" (that's the tag line of the conference).

I've never said the statement "I blog" in my real life. There's a stigma that goes along with that and it's just another headache that I don't need- and let's be honest- my blog is not exactly the "mommy blog" that we want circulating around my kids' strict Catholic school!

That's not to say that I don't want to say it. I do. Believe it or not, I've been proud of some of the stuff I've put out here. I'm damn proud of what my blog has done for me. It has gotten me to search for me again. It has given me the confidence to be me again and not just say the things I think I'm supposed to say.

Next weekend, among meeting some of the people that I credit with saving my sanity and embracing me as me, I am going to be surrounded by people that get it.

Next weekend I will proudly say "I blog."

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Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The dress

It's 1:35am and it's just me, my anxiety and the keyboard! Insomnia can kiss my ass.

I shopped today for clothes (a little black dress, to be precise)for BlogHer.

The first store I went into with high hopes, good intentions, and a smile. I was cocky- grabbing strappy dresses with little structure in single digit sizes. I had all 4 kids in tow and thought I could do it.

I learned otherwise.

I left crying and feeling bitch-slapped by time and gravity.

But there was still a job to be done.

So I put on my big girl pants (my Spanx), found a babysitter, and braved the fitting room alone- with me and my big girl sizes- gulp.

I decided that the first dress that zipped up pass my boobs and gave me the balls to walk out of the fitting room to look in the 3-way mirror was the victor.

It was the 12th dress I tried on!

I pulled a muscle trying to get the zipper up. However, my backfat only got pinched a little, so there's that.

I will need some assistance getting dressed that night- preferrably someone that can manhandle backfat and is a warrior with zippers, any takers?

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Monday, July 13, 2009

Get to know a little bit about me before it comes as a shock at BlogHer

If you're going to BlogHer there are a few things you should know about me...

1.) I have a peanut sized head and a huge forehead. I'm not fat, per say, however, in relation to my body, my head is not proportioned... much like these... don't stare at me- it's freakish, I know.




2.) It is because of #1 that I steer clear of cameras and hate myself in pictures. I am in need of a haircut and I'm thinking of asking them to add volume (and possibly bangs) to give the illusion of a normal sized head- I'm crossing my fingers.

3.) I don't dance. I will Karaoke. Or chair dance. Or possibly even lap dance. But don't expect me to break it down on the dance floor- I feel like a dork.

4.) I don't usually drink (read: lightweight). If I drink too much- it's a pretty good bet I will get sick. This, and the fact that my dad was a raging alcoholic when I was growing up, is why I was a pothead. It's all cool now, though, my dad has been clean for 20 years and my husband confiscated my bong and bowl. The only thing that remains is an occasional pesky smoker's cough, a fear of abandonment and self-esteem issues. Note to Anissa and Brittany: you may want to consider giving me the bed nearest to the bathroom, as a consolation, our room will be spotless due to my OCD.

5.) I am technologically challenged. I use a desktop computer. I will have my step-dad's laptop at BlogHer. That I have no idea how to use. Therefore, I will be even more technologically stumped than normal- shocking to think that it can get worse! Pity me- offer up advice- whatever- just don't point and laugh.

6.) Besides the fact that after 14 years of not having been away from my kids and/or husband and I am like a ticking time bomb and really need to get away- financially, I have no business going on a trip. Seriously, we're broke, but I'm looking at it as an investment in my sanity and probably cheaper than the institutionalization that's on the horizon without this as an intervention.

7.) Because of #6, I am open to whoring myself for most basic necessities: chocolate covered pretzels, fruity beverages with umbrellas, and adult diapers.

8.) I'm shy at first- it takes me a while to warm up- not literally, I will be sweating profusely.

9.) I don't care how shy I am- you will get a card from me. Why? Because I accidentally bought 1000! I'm not a fan of waste and I don't know if I'll ever get out again- so I may be passing them out to random strangers on the streets of Chicago, as well.

10.) Seriously, I have no idea where the train station is in relation to the hotel- should I know that? I have never ridden in a cab, much less flagged one down- do you even have to "flag them down" in Chicago. Watching Sex and the City is about as close as I've been to a cab.

11.) I predict my cell phone will ring approximately 306 times. My husband has extreme anxiety. What do I care- as long as I get out of the house. I also like the ring on my phone- it sounds like an old 70's porno!

12.) Again, related to #6- I will attend any free events. Are there any free events? If so please send me the information. I may also be found scrounging dumpsters with Chicago homeless for meals, that is, if I make it to the hotel in the first place- otherwise look for me near the train station passing out business cards with chow mien on my chin.

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Sunday, July 12, 2009

Dear Kathy Griffin- ummm...

Open letter to Kathy Griffin,


Luckily, I have envious bowel control or I would have shit myself when you called me at 2AM on Saturday night! But it would have been a good, pleasantly surprised, totally worth it mess.

I'm the captivating wife of the Police Officer that you ran into and wished he were arresting you (for the publicity). You called me from his broken flip phone that is held together by tape- how embarrassing! I've been meaning to take care of that, but with my glamorous lifestyle of 16 and Pregnant marathons and bribing kids to be quiet so I can finish watching the last season of Arrested Development on DVD, it slipped my mind.


When my husband called me, yelling over the background noise of all the drunkards downtown, "I have someone that wants to talk to you,"- I dreaded hearing a drunk random old friend out having a life! I wiped the just-fell-asleep sweat from underneath my boobs and turned down the rerun of Roseanne and put on my best, "No, I wasn't sleeping" voice- could you tell?

When you said, "Tena, this is Kathy Griffin" and I think I responded, "Get the fuck out"- that was sincere- maybe not fully thought out, but sincere nonetheless. I'm a little rusty from my last brush with greatness in 1993 when I waited for Lenny Kravitz after a show and was able to touch his dreadlocks. I know, it's hard to believe someone with such charisma as me, doesn't get out more- maybe it's the sarcasm and the self-deprecation that holds me back. No, I think I'll blame it on the kids, like my stretch marks.

I was sound asleep and caught off guard, but normally, possibly, there's a slight chance that if I were awake, I may have been able to join you in a witty repartee. Or probably not. Just maybe less stuttering. And waaay less perspiration, hopefully. I assure you my vocabulary goes beyond "umm" and "Oh My God". Usually.

Anyway, I would have said in my dorky, trying-too-hard-I'm-a-huge-fan-voice that I adore your inability to filter, love of celebrity trash talk, and agree with you on everything. I love hearing you on Howard Stern, and, of course your show "My Life on the D-List" is hilarious!

I've been a fan since you were really on the "D- List"('cuz let's face it, you're moving up, bitch!) and have watched all of your shows and specials. I don't get you confused with Vicky Lewis... and since my husband thought of me and orchestrated this phone call and all... I probably shouldn't embarrass him and say that he just asked me last week if you were on News Radio.

Please take no offense to the fact that I was clueless that you were in town. Of course you had a show! Could I have made it more obvious that I don't have a life? That was very sweet of you to have offered me tickets, you know, in hindsight, for pretend, or whatever. For what it's worth, I would have loved it! And next time you're in town, since Tom's hometown is St. Louis, we could totally hang. Or I could just go to a show. In the nosebleeds. Or not- whatever.


The second I got off the phone with you, I tweeted "Kathy fucking Griffin just called me!"...where I was the envy of all the cool mommy bloggers (you know the ones that don't have their panties in a bunch about your " This Emmy is my God now...suck it, Jesus" crack) and your main gays. I then found you on Twitter and am now stalking you, so that'll be fun, my apologies in advance.


Now that I've had time to absorb it all in- what I would have been curious about... Is there still a Facebook position open in Team Griffin? Cause I think I could rock that.

Tiffany has lost some weight, huh? She looks great.

So, what's the real deal with what happened to Jessica?

Can I also say that I already have the Joan Rivers' Roast written on my calendar (because you know my calendar's so booked!).

When my husband got home, he said he would have like to say something witty, too, and mentioned something about your mom and tea bagging- I'm so lucky he doesn't think on his feet, either! That could have been ugly.

So, thank you so much for taking the time out to say hi and chat with me.

Sincerely,

The person you called last night that you probably wish you hadn't.

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Friday, July 10, 2009

My plan for the weekend...

This weekend is our "Parish Picnic"- a weekend long, money pit, breeding ground for annoying drunks, lost kids, and "carnie" infestation. The air is thick with the smell of funnel cakes and motion sickness puke. Most people would jump at the chance or, at least, give in to the CONSTANT begging, whining, and moaning by their kids to attend. Not me- I am strong. I am broke. I am short of patience when it comes to close quarters in 100 degree weather with people I don't like.


My kids go to the school (against my internal battles). We are parishoners. I make an asserted, yet flawed effort, to make it to church on Sundays. I am a bad, but true Catholic- my dad was one of 13 and they were all drunks, but they went to church every Sunday, damn it. My kids play sports for the school. We are constantly surrounded by people that belong to the parish. So there are pressures to attend and help support the cause.

The sun sets and rises with the parish picnic, in most of these peoples' lives. If I openly admit to them that I am in town this weekend and choosing to stay home and not drop $300 each day- I will be doomed to eternal damnation and no one needs that.

That's why I'm lying and saying we're out of town this weekend.

Amen.


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Thursday, July 9, 2009

Friday Fragments


It's time for a Friday Fragments. Random thoughts from the week- God help you all. If you would like to join in with your own with Mrs.4444...

***Went shopping for a bra yesterday. How. Freaking. Depressing. When did that happen? I used to be able to buy a bra- no problem. Now, dresses, shirts, pants- and GOD- swimsuits- total different story, but bras- I could handle. Yesterday, something was different. Little bulges and bumps and lumps and divots in my shoulders- blech! I walked out, needlesstosay, without purchasing an over-priced bra and went to my daughter's softball game and had a sno-cone and a hot dog- that'll show Victoria's Secret! Long live the sag!

***In more news about my vanity... I got a facial last Thursday. I'm cheap. I don't do facials, except when I have a gift card to a swanky spa from last Christmas that's going to expire. I decided facial was the best choice since I'm dealing poorly with my aging process. I got my first "peel"- I don't know what kind it was- but it didn't feel like much (she claimed it was supposed to burn or itch- nope!)

I was hoping for a '10 years younger' appearance- well, more like 20... my face has 3 huge zits. I look like a 16 year old again! The girl claimed that some electric dildo thingy that she dragged across my face was supposed to stop me from breaking out- well, it didn't.

***I had trouble sleeping this week- very anxious- and busy. Flute lessons every day (my kid's school band plays the National Anthem at Busch Stadium in August), 6 softball/baseball games, and on the horizon, of course, BlogHer. I am so overwhelmed with everything. And to find out that Tim Gunn will be there now? I thought I was meeting up with a bunch of gals that embrace the yoga pant, WTF?

*** Back in December, my husband had an incident at work. To be thoroughly vague and confusing, I can't give details. He was eligible for retirement as of January 3 (20 years) and that had been his plan- to go to another job where medical insurance was less than $750/month. Well, I'm proud to announce that JUST 8 MONTHS LATER- the situation has been resolved. We are hoping for good things- please throw out a prayer or good thoughts for us.

*** I suck at this blogging thing- seriously. I adore all the connections I've made, but feel increasingly inferior to all the wit, sincerity, and talent out there. 12 days out from BlogHer is not the time to be feeling this way- or writing like shit or maybe that's why I feel this way. I need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe just some quiet so I can compose a sentence. Or maybe a talent. Or a life, who knows?

I have drafted about 12 things this week and each one is suckier than the last (fuck you, spellcheck- "suckier" is the perfect word to describe them.) So I wanted to take this time to apologize for my recent crap and let you know that I'm aware and am working on it.

***My husband had a dream last night that we were "rocking it"- that was his quote- and I said, "dude, you need to get that penis enlargement!" Self- conscious much? Or has he been reading my spam inbox?


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Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Someone's been watching an Everybody Loves Raymond marathon


When a soda explodes in your kitchen, drying up the floor with a napkin is not sufficient. That's not just me, right? Someone please tell my husband, please?

I made the mistake of leaving my house to do some gardening- that's right, I garden my ass off- I'm every woman- suck it! So, I'm outside gardening and apparently, my husband drops a can of soda and it explodes in the kitchen. He dried up the floor with a napkin- so the kids wouldn't slip- wasn't that big of him? Nevermind that my kitchen looked like a meconium filled amniotic sac exploded all over my white cabinets and stainless steel appliances. And the floor! Good God the floor! It felt like there were 800 upside down Post-it notes under my feet!

As I scrubbed the floors with my Cinderella-esque bucket and rag (I don't do mops- they gross me out), I paused to watch my husband watching TV on the sofa with an ice cream cone in one hand and quite possibly a handful of belly button lint in another.


"Marriage is like an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond without the laugh track."

-Knocked Up

No truer words have been spoken in a movie, especially in my house.

The episode about the can opener and the one when Ray buys the crappy tissue...the one where his brother moves into an apartment and Ray is jealous.. the one where they realize they are nicer to strangers than to each other, and the one where Ray thinks Debra has PMS because of a mood (and yes, when she gets caught with hair remover on her upper lip)- I really should consider some type of lawsuit against the writers because my husband and I have lived out each of those episodes- way before it was cool. And scripted. And funny.

I think where I first go wrong...my husband isn't a comedian.

Some other adjustments I'd make to the show...I keep a clean house. My mother in law does not live across the street. I'm not a crappy cook and I would NEVER ruin Thanksgiving with fish instead of turkey! More flannel and yoga pants- less twin sets. My husband has a less glamorous job (he is the policeman, not his brother, but his brother, does, indeed, still live with his mom at 41.) There would be waaay more cursing (think HBO) and I blog.

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Sunday, July 5, 2009

me being pathetic, again.

I did it. I booked my train ticket for BlogHer. That was the action that I've been putting off because I'm a big pussy and found slight comfort in the fact that I could still back-out. Well, that comfort is gone and I've got to be a big girl, now.

Unlike most moms, I don't have concerns about leaving my kids. I'm not afraid to travel by myself. I'm not worried about taking a train for the first time to a city where I know no one. I'm not even leery of meeting up with hundreds of people that I've never met that I feel inferior to (well, maybe a little on that one) or sharing a room with complete strangers that could very well chop me into tiny pieces and sell me on E-Bay.

The reason I've never gone anywhere is because of my husband's anxiety. It's a battle that, after our second child and a few years of marriage, I chose not to fight. I fought for my kids, but forgot about me needing a life. That was a mistake and I now know it- no lectures. He needs hardcore psychotherapy and he knows it, but he won't do it- no lectures on that front either. I have been a big fat enabler and I'm trying my best to stop.

I have learned that the more I do, the more he'll get used to it and adjust which will eventually make us both healthier and happier- well, that's the plan, anyway.

Back in March, I brought up BlogHer to him. At first, it was attacked and ridiculed and I expected nothing less from someone that thinks the only people online are pornographers and homosexuals. After a few weeks of the silent treatment and some very rough patches, he agreed, to my surprise, that it would be good for me. I booked the ticket immediately.

Here we are 4 months later and just 2 weeks out. I have not spoken a word of it to him since. I won't. I can't. I'm certain that he thought it was a phase, something that I just got over. I can't have his anxiety and what-ifs percolate for the next two weeks. I am anxious about how he will react- period- that's my anxiety. I may spring it on him a couple of days before- or not.

On the morning of July 23, his Aunt(who I adore and has encouraged me to do this and given me the nudges that I needed) will be arriving here as I leave on my little adventure. She will be staying here taking care of the kids and running my house in my absence and I couldn't feel more indebted to her. She knows his patterns because his family had the same issues. She doesn't just judge it as an outsider- she knows it, has seen it and has lived it. I'm so lucky to have someone like her.

This trip is huge for me. I'm hoping this will be all I'm imagining it will be. Meeting new people, creating friendships, laughing, and maybe even a little learning- or not. There is nothing funny about this post, if anything, it's relatively pathetic. Just an explanation of why I'm so pathetic.

I would, however, love to win this contest... It is for a Slim Perfect little black dress and a $250 gift certificate. As I understand it, the dress is made of Spanx-like material or iron or something- whatever it is- it pulls in stuff- and I could use a good stuffer puller inner- especially with all this emotional eating I've been doing!

It would help greatly if you went and harass left a comment here explaining how I could be the perfect model for the stuffer puller inner dress at BlogHer! Or you can tweet:

@muffintopless @tenakim needs to win SlimPerfect LBD or else- jammie pants with holes in the crotch- and no one wants to see that!

If I don't win, I'm going to have to do more sneaking around and hiding those damn Macy's bags around the house and that will just add more stress that I don't need.


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Thursday, July 2, 2009

Pride

This may go without saying, but my kids drive me batty. So needy and messy and loud- damn, they are loud! Today, they had their yearly physicals and shots- maybe that will shut them up! I know that's mean- too bad.

Anyway, all of my kids are healthy, not remotely obese and brave little suckers! Each of them got a shot (Beebs, 4, got 4!) and not one tear shed! I gotta say, I was pretty proud. Especially when my sister called and said that my niece, 5, cried while getting hers yesterday- everything's a competition!

That is an odd thing to be proud of, isn't it?

Well, my son's report card for the last quarter had 4 'D's (I call it the 4-dimensional report card and it pisses him off). My 8 year old and 10 year old have been threatening each other's life for the last month and they're scaring me. And today, when the Dr. asked Beebs if she knew her ABC's (that she's known since she was 2!), she sang, "A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,How are you today!"

Not my proudest moment.

So, today, I think I'm going to hold onto the fact that they didn't cry during their shots. I know it's little, but it's all I got! Now I think I know what 50cent's mom feels like.

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