Today is notable for 3 things:
1. Clooney jumped on the couch all by himself. Awww. He's a big boy now.
2. I did not kill my children as I so deeply desired.
3. It's not f%^&*ing Sunday
It was a blow to me, I will be honest. After listening to my children bitch, whine and moan all morning, M and I decided to take them to the Chili/Gumbo Showdown at South. We know they don't eat chili or gumbo, Mom. But, there was an inflatable playground, balloons, and such crap that usually interests children. Plus, it was a nice walk around on an otherwise soggy day.
Then, M and I got to listen to the children whine, bitch and moan through that. How, exactly, does S think I can fix mud on the ground? What magical freaking powers do I have to stop the water from turning dirt into mud?
What is going through my head right now makes Christian Bale look like a Victorian Treatise in Manners.
So, tonight, after they had bitched and whined and moaned all afternoon, I was cleaning dishes and filled with a sense of Zen. I rolled my eyes to M, who said to me, "It's going to be ok. I had to remind myself today that sitting around with the family isn't so bad. Sure, it was annoying, and sure they didn't stop fighting. And sure, they didn't obey, help, or in any way contribute anything positive today, but it's going to be ok."
And, me, in my stardazed eyes, enhanced by the effects of one rum and Coke Zero, replied dreamily, "I know. And I know because tomorrow, there is school."
And then there was this sound. A knowing cackle, a mocking giggle, a hideous sound of knowledge I did not have. "What?" I demanded. "What?"
"Tomorrow's Sunday."
Insert Christian Bale's rant here.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Toronto in February and Other Insanity
Holy Mother of God. I'm still shoveling and am barely peeking over the rim of the hole I'm in! First off, full apologies for my absence. Primarily, I became obsessed with painting the wrought iron on my front porch. And by obsessed, I mean that I considered stealing one of those giant diesel generators construction crews use on the highways to light their work at night. I could paint at night. SURE. I was actually dreaming about painting. And I was doing ok. Except, I started out with what I thought was a lovely gunmetal gray/blue and wound up with purple. So halfway through, I changed my mind and repainted with sage green. Which, by the way, I am very happy with. But during my obsession, there was no time to do anything. My children were dirty and neglected, my husband unfed and untended to, and my house in chaos. But, I was out there painting, dammit.
Then, we all trouped off to Toronto to visit M's family, and to meet his best friend's fiancee. The trip, while fulfilling all stereotypes of the frigid north, was actually very successful. Of course, M and I resorted to the lowest form of parenting: bribery, but we exploited it to the full extent. For each day the kids were good, they each got a surprise--Hot Wheels, coloring books, Star Wars figurines. M and I only had to use the parental look of death combined with the dread scream-whisper of "there will be no treat if I have to speak to you again" and all was right. A useful stop gap measure in the face of staying in some one else's house and also having great aunts who they didn't remember ever meeting love on them and pinch their cheeks. My kids are freakish around new people, and the lure of a Hot Wheel warmed them right up.
Too bad there was nothing to warm us up! Our last night there, it must have been ten below. Very very cold. And there comes a point, apparently, where even alcohol won't keep the toes toasty.
So, despite a notable failure of the hockey game, everything else was great--Royal Ontario Museum, Science Center, brunch, even dinner at a French Bistro--all finessed by the finest made in China crap money can buy. The hockey game was humorous insofar as we arrived during the team's warm ups and sat through the Zamboni treatment of the rink, which S thought was the greatest thing ever (a car! On ice! Cleaning! Driving! Together!). Of course, then the game began, and I had to spend the entire first quarter counting down minutes for S until the intermission when the Zamboni machine would be back. My kids are nothing if not predictable.
Since we got back, I have been engulfed in another obsession of cleanliness. After nearly a week in my father in law's immaculate town house, I have been inspired to deep clean (again). His housekeeper is an inspiration--the silver trays and things are polished and then wrapped in Saran Wrap to prevent tarnishing! So, yah, it's true that my father in law lives alone, has a five day/week housekeeper, and is out of town half the year. Which may be an unfair standard to measure cleanliness to, given dog, children, and constant habitation, but nonetheless, my ambition is high.
Last night and this morning, I cleaned out the kitchen cupboards. I was doing the sensible one cabinet at a time thing, until I realized that some of the arrangements were dreadfully impractical. That's when things got nasty--all the cabinet contents were on the floor, and I was vacuuming, bleaching (I found cockroach pooh), and organizing well into the evening. (No generator required inside!) This AM, I finished the cupboards, then washed all of them with Murphy's Oil Soap, disassembled the microwave to wash its greasy parts, washed all of the appliances, ran all the barware through the dishwasher, cleaned all the counters, washed all the baseboards, scrubbed the floor, and put everything in its place.
There is some question about my sanity.
SOOOOOOOOOOOO, as long as I can keep my obsessions to a reasonable length (that is, doable in one day) I will keep posting daily. God help us all if I get started on something bigger!
Then, we all trouped off to Toronto to visit M's family, and to meet his best friend's fiancee. The trip, while fulfilling all stereotypes of the frigid north, was actually very successful. Of course, M and I resorted to the lowest form of parenting: bribery, but we exploited it to the full extent. For each day the kids were good, they each got a surprise--Hot Wheels, coloring books, Star Wars figurines. M and I only had to use the parental look of death combined with the dread scream-whisper of "there will be no treat if I have to speak to you again" and all was right. A useful stop gap measure in the face of staying in some one else's house and also having great aunts who they didn't remember ever meeting love on them and pinch their cheeks. My kids are freakish around new people, and the lure of a Hot Wheel warmed them right up.
Too bad there was nothing to warm us up! Our last night there, it must have been ten below. Very very cold. And there comes a point, apparently, where even alcohol won't keep the toes toasty.
So, despite a notable failure of the hockey game, everything else was great--Royal Ontario Museum, Science Center, brunch, even dinner at a French Bistro--all finessed by the finest made in China crap money can buy. The hockey game was humorous insofar as we arrived during the team's warm ups and sat through the Zamboni treatment of the rink, which S thought was the greatest thing ever (a car! On ice! Cleaning! Driving! Together!). Of course, then the game began, and I had to spend the entire first quarter counting down minutes for S until the intermission when the Zamboni machine would be back. My kids are nothing if not predictable.
Since we got back, I have been engulfed in another obsession of cleanliness. After nearly a week in my father in law's immaculate town house, I have been inspired to deep clean (again). His housekeeper is an inspiration--the silver trays and things are polished and then wrapped in Saran Wrap to prevent tarnishing! So, yah, it's true that my father in law lives alone, has a five day/week housekeeper, and is out of town half the year. Which may be an unfair standard to measure cleanliness to, given dog, children, and constant habitation, but nonetheless, my ambition is high.
Last night and this morning, I cleaned out the kitchen cupboards. I was doing the sensible one cabinet at a time thing, until I realized that some of the arrangements were dreadfully impractical. That's when things got nasty--all the cabinet contents were on the floor, and I was vacuuming, bleaching (I found cockroach pooh), and organizing well into the evening. (No generator required inside!) This AM, I finished the cupboards, then washed all of them with Murphy's Oil Soap, disassembled the microwave to wash its greasy parts, washed all of the appliances, ran all the barware through the dishwasher, cleaned all the counters, washed all the baseboards, scrubbed the floor, and put everything in its place.
There is some question about my sanity.
SOOOOOOOOOOOO, as long as I can keep my obsessions to a reasonable length (that is, doable in one day) I will keep posting daily. God help us all if I get started on something bigger!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Theory of Relativity
Sometimes it's important to look at the world in relative terms. An absolute world can be overly simplified, too black and white. In an absolute world, it is hard to find rationale. Relative terms help us all fit in. We can have a relative morality, a relative sanity, a relative normalcy. These are important consolations in our world. For example, I can feel relatively thin compared with most Southerners. I can feel relatively sober against most Southerners. I can feel relatively worldly compared with most Southerners. Truth be told, most Southerners are a good boost in relative comparisons.
That woman with 29 dogs in her station wagon can help us all feel relatively fortunate and sane. The Amazon jungle helps us feel relatively cool in the summer. My dear, deceased Madison makes Clooney look relatively smart. I feel it's important to look at ourselves in these terms, not to feel superior to others, but also to find some humility. There are others who are always smarter, healthier, cooler, more successful, whatever. I am sure they consider themselves more fortunate than I.
S and E are also learning this relative quality to the world. They understand that they are relatively good colorers (for their ages) or relatively fast runners (until Clooney races by) or relatively well stocked in toys (until some kid shows up with some new-fangled thing). I am happy they are taking this in, understanding it, and synthesizing it into their moral and cultural understandings.
Just last night, S was looking at a baby, and said that he hates babies because they can't do anything. Which we talked about at some length. And we talked about how it's not nice to say that we hate some one because they can't do something, and about how S feels when big kids tell him he's no good at something. Then, S says, "babies are gross. They have their hands in their mouths all the time."
"True." I say. "But, don't you and E often have your hands in your mouths?"
"Yes. But you say it make our hands stinky."
"It does make your hands VERY stinky."
"Do you know what makes your hands even stinkier, Mommy?"
"No."
"Sticking your hands in your butt."
Relatively speaking, yes.
That woman with 29 dogs in her station wagon can help us all feel relatively fortunate and sane. The Amazon jungle helps us feel relatively cool in the summer. My dear, deceased Madison makes Clooney look relatively smart. I feel it's important to look at ourselves in these terms, not to feel superior to others, but also to find some humility. There are others who are always smarter, healthier, cooler, more successful, whatever. I am sure they consider themselves more fortunate than I.
S and E are also learning this relative quality to the world. They understand that they are relatively good colorers (for their ages) or relatively fast runners (until Clooney races by) or relatively well stocked in toys (until some kid shows up with some new-fangled thing). I am happy they are taking this in, understanding it, and synthesizing it into their moral and cultural understandings.
Just last night, S was looking at a baby, and said that he hates babies because they can't do anything. Which we talked about at some length. And we talked about how it's not nice to say that we hate some one because they can't do something, and about how S feels when big kids tell him he's no good at something. Then, S says, "babies are gross. They have their hands in their mouths all the time."
"True." I say. "But, don't you and E often have your hands in your mouths?"
"Yes. But you say it make our hands stinky."
"It does make your hands VERY stinky."
"Do you know what makes your hands even stinkier, Mommy?"
"No."
"Sticking your hands in your butt."
Relatively speaking, yes.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Perfunctory Monday Post
I haven't needed a Monday so badly in quite some time. The full moon, the change in weather--I don't know. My children were INSANE this weekend.
Sometimes, M and I plan the weekends out: we search out and book outings to museums or whatever, we anticipate where and when we will eat meals...it's like an all inclusive resort if you're my kids.
Happy Saturday, I'm your cruise director, Mom. Today, we are starting with a choose your own breakfast buffet extravaganza! Sugary cereals! Waffles! Cinnamon rolls! We have it all! Following breakfast, we will be departing for our port adventure! That's right, a full day of excitement at the Pirate Museum exhibit, followed by a fresh air getaway at the park, we will conclude our in port adventure today with a lunch in a box at your favorite fast food restaurant and Ebola Playplace! After your delicious lunch, stay homeside for your choice of board games, stories, puzzles, computer time, or whatever your little heart desires! After all, we live to serve you! After our free time this afternoon, we will be serving the only home made food you eat--yummy crust chorken! Delicious! We will be wrapping that up with chocolate ice cream, bed time stories and lots of cuddles! Another fun-filled day aboard the fun-house Mommy and Daddy! 1-2-3 WOOHOO! Tomorrow, more of the same!
But this Saturday and Sunday were a little less organized. We went to Lowe's, we puttered around the house, dad had work to do, we had a few household chores to do, a little here, a little there.
The kids FREAKED out. They whined, they did the boneless-kid flop in the restaurant, they cried, they complained, they fought, they stole each others' stuff, they fought, they didn't cooperate or follow directions, they fought. Not to say that they don't always behave well when we have activities for them, but wouldn't it be a reasonable hope that they could just behave like humans on the days that don't happen to revolve around them? Is that too much to hope? Yesterday, despite all planned determination to the contrary, I totally lost it. I finally yelled at dinner, bathed them, and sent them to bed.
Bitter me is going to use my remaining hour to do something fun for myself. Like laundry.
Sometimes, M and I plan the weekends out: we search out and book outings to museums or whatever, we anticipate where and when we will eat meals...it's like an all inclusive resort if you're my kids.
Happy Saturday, I'm your cruise director, Mom. Today, we are starting with a choose your own breakfast buffet extravaganza! Sugary cereals! Waffles! Cinnamon rolls! We have it all! Following breakfast, we will be departing for our port adventure! That's right, a full day of excitement at the Pirate Museum exhibit, followed by a fresh air getaway at the park, we will conclude our in port adventure today with a lunch in a box at your favorite fast food restaurant and Ebola Playplace! After your delicious lunch, stay homeside for your choice of board games, stories, puzzles, computer time, or whatever your little heart desires! After all, we live to serve you! After our free time this afternoon, we will be serving the only home made food you eat--yummy crust chorken! Delicious! We will be wrapping that up with chocolate ice cream, bed time stories and lots of cuddles! Another fun-filled day aboard the fun-house Mommy and Daddy! 1-2-3 WOOHOO! Tomorrow, more of the same!
But this Saturday and Sunday were a little less organized. We went to Lowe's, we puttered around the house, dad had work to do, we had a few household chores to do, a little here, a little there.
The kids FREAKED out. They whined, they did the boneless-kid flop in the restaurant, they cried, they complained, they fought, they stole each others' stuff, they fought, they didn't cooperate or follow directions, they fought. Not to say that they don't always behave well when we have activities for them, but wouldn't it be a reasonable hope that they could just behave like humans on the days that don't happen to revolve around them? Is that too much to hope? Yesterday, despite all planned determination to the contrary, I totally lost it. I finally yelled at dinner, bathed them, and sent them to bed.
Bitter me is going to use my remaining hour to do something fun for myself. Like laundry.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
The Cell Phone Scourge or Some Girls Should Eat Fried Rice
OK. I get it. I have heard all the rationales. I have even offered them several times to my parents, who have had a similar rant: it's a generational thing, it's the new public code of manners, it's not considered rude, it's....
Here goes, I'm officially an old fogey: What the **)&(&^ is with cell phones? Last night we went to dinner with the kids to the Japanese Hibachi place. As we were waiting in the lobby, a foursome of college-aged students were waiting next to us. The young women, one of whom was flirting dangerously with anorexia and her friend, who was not, were glued to the screen of an iphone. Ani's boyfriend and his friend (who was told, no doubt, that Ani's friend had a great personality) sat beside the girls, silently staring into space. M and I thought that was such a commentary on today's world.
Then we were seated.
And the Ani foursome were seated next to us. Downside of eating at the Hibachi: being in proximity to other people. Ew.
Anyway, we sat down and looked around the giant room. At least one person at every table was staring at a cell phone screen. Most, to be fair, were not speaking on the phone. Just, presumably, counting the dollars they've wasted on Top 40 ring tones, or playing games, or looking at their long list of contacts and thinking about all the other people they'd CLEARLY rather be with at that moment.
Don't they get it? Don't they understand that they are saying to their girlfriends/families/friends/colleagues that they would rather be anywhere else, doing something else, with anyone else when they sit and stare at their phones? It's as though they were begging the phones to ring, to take them away from the delicious pyrotechnics of the Japanese Steakhouse. I explained all these sentiments to E as we were waiting for our food. Being a kid, he still thinks my lessons on manners mean something. I just hope that when he's 16, I don't sit at the hibachi lounge watching him text his friends about how uncool it is.
Ani and her entourage sat next to us at our table. Ani and her friend were talking, boyfriend and his fraternity brother were looking at the iphone. They were either playing a video game or looking at video of an Ultimate Fighting-type match. In the middle of the restaurant Frat Brother actually woo-hoos very loudly at seeing the avatar/actual human bleed on the screen of his iphone.
Of course, I am sitting next to Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo also, it seems, has a sinus problem, as he was constantly snorting and sputtering his phlegm six inches from my ear. Ew. Then, when my food came (I ordered sushi to try to save some calories off the buttery shrimp, steak, veggies and rice) Woo-hoo and his friends offered their insightful, thoughtful, and worldly comments to each other about my food. (I, being of a generation not permanently attached to an ipod, can still hear. Thank you.) And how "ew! She actually ate it" and "I can see it...it's really raw." and "I forgit, what's that green stuff called?" I have never wanted to jab a chopstick into someone else before. It's a powerful impulse. In the end, Ani didn't eat anything. Her friend ate EVERYTHING. Boyfriend had a lot to drink and looked randy (yes, it's the 1950s). Woo-hoo talked about how much he hated his veggies and then used his iphone to calculate tip. (Figures. Woo-hoo probably can't divide)
And in the end, I felt bad for my children. And I realized that the evil of a cellphone really is in the hands of the user. The technology is not in itself rude, it's the users. And I realized one other thing: that if the Ani/Woo-Hoo foursome ever became sexual, it'd really be more of a twosome. The two girls average out to the weight of one normal girl, as do the IQs of the two dudes. So, maybe they can divide after all.
Here goes, I'm officially an old fogey: What the **)&(&^ is with cell phones? Last night we went to dinner with the kids to the Japanese Hibachi place. As we were waiting in the lobby, a foursome of college-aged students were waiting next to us. The young women, one of whom was flirting dangerously with anorexia and her friend, who was not, were glued to the screen of an iphone. Ani's boyfriend and his friend (who was told, no doubt, that Ani's friend had a great personality) sat beside the girls, silently staring into space. M and I thought that was such a commentary on today's world.
Then we were seated.
And the Ani foursome were seated next to us. Downside of eating at the Hibachi: being in proximity to other people. Ew.
Anyway, we sat down and looked around the giant room. At least one person at every table was staring at a cell phone screen. Most, to be fair, were not speaking on the phone. Just, presumably, counting the dollars they've wasted on Top 40 ring tones, or playing games, or looking at their long list of contacts and thinking about all the other people they'd CLEARLY rather be with at that moment.
Don't they get it? Don't they understand that they are saying to their girlfriends/families/friends/colleagues that they would rather be anywhere else, doing something else, with anyone else when they sit and stare at their phones? It's as though they were begging the phones to ring, to take them away from the delicious pyrotechnics of the Japanese Steakhouse. I explained all these sentiments to E as we were waiting for our food. Being a kid, he still thinks my lessons on manners mean something. I just hope that when he's 16, I don't sit at the hibachi lounge watching him text his friends about how uncool it is.
Ani and her entourage sat next to us at our table. Ani and her friend were talking, boyfriend and his fraternity brother were looking at the iphone. They were either playing a video game or looking at video of an Ultimate Fighting-type match. In the middle of the restaurant Frat Brother actually woo-hoos very loudly at seeing the avatar/actual human bleed on the screen of his iphone.
Of course, I am sitting next to Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo also, it seems, has a sinus problem, as he was constantly snorting and sputtering his phlegm six inches from my ear. Ew. Then, when my food came (I ordered sushi to try to save some calories off the buttery shrimp, steak, veggies and rice) Woo-hoo and his friends offered their insightful, thoughtful, and worldly comments to each other about my food. (I, being of a generation not permanently attached to an ipod, can still hear. Thank you.) And how "ew! She actually ate it" and "I can see it...it's really raw." and "I forgit, what's that green stuff called?" I have never wanted to jab a chopstick into someone else before. It's a powerful impulse. In the end, Ani didn't eat anything. Her friend ate EVERYTHING. Boyfriend had a lot to drink and looked randy (yes, it's the 1950s). Woo-hoo talked about how much he hated his veggies and then used his iphone to calculate tip. (Figures. Woo-hoo probably can't divide)
And in the end, I felt bad for my children. And I realized that the evil of a cellphone really is in the hands of the user. The technology is not in itself rude, it's the users. And I realized one other thing: that if the Ani/Woo-Hoo foursome ever became sexual, it'd really be more of a twosome. The two girls average out to the weight of one normal girl, as do the IQs of the two dudes. So, maybe they can divide after all.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Paw-fectly Dressed
I have been so busy! I don't even know what happened to this week. Plus, I spent all my online time yesterday and this morning looking for a dress and shoes to wear to the two weddings/rehearsal dinners we are going to in the next couple of months. That is just super stressful. Although by shopping online, I see 2 benefits: 1. I Don't have to go to Dillards. I can go to Nordstrom.com and soak up the virtual ambiance. 2. No fluorescent bulbs in the changing rooms. Thankfully, I can try these on in the privacy of my own room. No security cameras, no cruel lighting. Also, no 3 way mirror, so I can extend my denial.
OK. More to the point. I have been mulling over this subject for some time. I have been discussing it animatedly with friends over dinner and such, but not in this forum: What is with scrubs? And by this question, I mean the operating room clothing, not the former NBC show named after said clothing.
M says that people are wearing scrubs all over town because "how else would we know s/he is a doctor?" He maintains that it is a status issue. I am not sure. I wouldn't want my doctor or nurse running around town doing their errands in scrubs. I mean doctors and nurses know about germs, right? If a doctor/nurse is drawing my blood, touching my eyeballs (if I had an ailment that required this), touching my body in any way, really--after s/he's been wearing those scrubs into Lowe's or WalMart or out with kids to the Chic-Fil-A Ebola playground, then I am GROSSED OUT. Those places are DIRTY. Suddenly, supergerms are less of a mystery.
Also, I am not sure about the status thing, because the type of scrubs really reveals a lot about the vocation of the person wearing them. For instance, we can start at the presumed head of the scrub hierarchy with actual physicians and hospital nurses in their surg green scrubs. You know, "operating scrubbers" Then, there are the "office scrubbers" SpongeBob scrubs clearly for pediatrics, the Toothy ones for dentist/hygienists, the wrap around two-tones (in shades like aqua and cocoa and lilac and black) that absolutely MUST be from an Ob/Gyn office. There are the "ambiguous scrubbers" that are holiday themed. All the way down to the presumed bottom of the economic totem, the clearly vet-tech-themed scrubs with dogs and cats and cutesy little paw prints and puns on them. So how is that about status? I mean, I absolutely love the girl who grooms Clooney and the woman who works the front desk at the vet office, but are these women living so richly and glamorously that they want EVERYONE to know their jobs? A nanny who delivers kids to school also wears scrubs and a Bluetooth earpiece. She's very Serious.
Yesterday, I drove by the cosmetology school and the students were on smoke/coffee break outside. By the way, the cosmetology school is in a strip mall...huh? And they were all wearing matching scrubs! They don't even have jobs yet! They are student-scrubbers. What the hell? So, to paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, "what is the deal with the scrubs?"
They are easy to wash. They are forgiving to the figure (they make everyone look like amorphous blobs). They are easy to match. They go well with Crocs. But seriously, people, if you go out of your house/workplace with rubber shoes and canvas and elastic clothing that has pockets on the inside and the outside in case you can't get them on correctly, you have given up. You have checked out of the society in which we all participate. You are saying to the world, "you know, I just couldn't bring myself to button or zip today."
Now. I need to go put on my sweats.
OK. More to the point. I have been mulling over this subject for some time. I have been discussing it animatedly with friends over dinner and such, but not in this forum: What is with scrubs? And by this question, I mean the operating room clothing, not the former NBC show named after said clothing.
M says that people are wearing scrubs all over town because "how else would we know s/he is a doctor?" He maintains that it is a status issue. I am not sure. I wouldn't want my doctor or nurse running around town doing their errands in scrubs. I mean doctors and nurses know about germs, right? If a doctor/nurse is drawing my blood, touching my eyeballs (if I had an ailment that required this), touching my body in any way, really--after s/he's been wearing those scrubs into Lowe's or WalMart or out with kids to the Chic-Fil-A Ebola playground, then I am GROSSED OUT. Those places are DIRTY. Suddenly, supergerms are less of a mystery.
Also, I am not sure about the status thing, because the type of scrubs really reveals a lot about the vocation of the person wearing them. For instance, we can start at the presumed head of the scrub hierarchy with actual physicians and hospital nurses in their surg green scrubs. You know, "operating scrubbers" Then, there are the "office scrubbers" SpongeBob scrubs clearly for pediatrics, the Toothy ones for dentist/hygienists, the wrap around two-tones (in shades like aqua and cocoa and lilac and black) that absolutely MUST be from an Ob/Gyn office. There are the "ambiguous scrubbers" that are holiday themed. All the way down to the presumed bottom of the economic totem, the clearly vet-tech-themed scrubs with dogs and cats and cutesy little paw prints and puns on them. So how is that about status? I mean, I absolutely love the girl who grooms Clooney and the woman who works the front desk at the vet office, but are these women living so richly and glamorously that they want EVERYONE to know their jobs? A nanny who delivers kids to school also wears scrubs and a Bluetooth earpiece. She's very Serious.
Yesterday, I drove by the cosmetology school and the students were on smoke/coffee break outside. By the way, the cosmetology school is in a strip mall...huh? And they were all wearing matching scrubs! They don't even have jobs yet! They are student-scrubbers. What the hell? So, to paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, "what is the deal with the scrubs?"
They are easy to wash. They are forgiving to the figure (they make everyone look like amorphous blobs). They are easy to match. They go well with Crocs. But seriously, people, if you go out of your house/workplace with rubber shoes and canvas and elastic clothing that has pockets on the inside and the outside in case you can't get them on correctly, you have given up. You have checked out of the society in which we all participate. You are saying to the world, "you know, I just couldn't bring myself to button or zip today."
Now. I need to go put on my sweats.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Super-ish Bowl
Why, exactly, do we watch the Super Bowl? I like sports more than the next girl, but what IS the big deal? I was sooooooooo bored last night. The game was boring (til the end), the ads were bleh, the hype was huge.
I asked M how many people would rather Springsteen just keep on singing rather than go back to the game. He told me 1% tops. I kinda did. Were the ads excessively juvenile or what? A man kissing a grease monkey? Honestly? Clearly, Castrol paid all their money for the time and had no money left over for an agency to make an ad.
Remember the Cindy Crawford ad? Remember the Ridley Scott Apple ad? Volkswagen always had a good one, too. This year, I enjoyed the Pepsi/Dylan ad and the Coke ad with the bugs. The goDaddy ads were baffling. The Doritos ads were downright insulting: he hit a dude in the nuts with a snowglobe! That's hilarious. Really?
Also, weren't the products sorta strange? GoDaddy? CareerBuilder? We got the basic Cola Wars ads, some car ads, a seeming disproportionate number of movie ads. But where was Home Depot? Lowes? Honda? US Armed Forces? Something random and environmental? ipod?
Meh.
What is with the "new" 3D craze again? We saw Bolt in 3D. Now Monsters vs Aliens, and Chuck? HUH? Is the economy so bad that we have to trot out technology that's 50 years old and get excited over it again? Sitting there with red and blue glasses on in our own houses? Where's my video phone? My no-calorie cookies? My laundry putter-awayer. These are the advances we need. Not stupid quasi-coming-at-you-tv. Lame-o.
The whole thing: meh.
My crab dip was yummy, though. I didn't put in too much jalapeno like last time. Also, I made cheddar burgers with grilled onions and mushrooms and balsamic mayo. Tasty. I'm really proud of us. We ate no chips, no wings, no gross stuff. My FOOD was healthy and fresh, if not low calorie. Maybe that's the problem with my diet--when all else fails, eat good food.
I asked M how many people would rather Springsteen just keep on singing rather than go back to the game. He told me 1% tops. I kinda did. Were the ads excessively juvenile or what? A man kissing a grease monkey? Honestly? Clearly, Castrol paid all their money for the time and had no money left over for an agency to make an ad.
Remember the Cindy Crawford ad? Remember the Ridley Scott Apple ad? Volkswagen always had a good one, too. This year, I enjoyed the Pepsi/Dylan ad and the Coke ad with the bugs. The goDaddy ads were baffling. The Doritos ads were downright insulting: he hit a dude in the nuts with a snowglobe! That's hilarious. Really?
Also, weren't the products sorta strange? GoDaddy? CareerBuilder? We got the basic Cola Wars ads, some car ads, a seeming disproportionate number of movie ads. But where was Home Depot? Lowes? Honda? US Armed Forces? Something random and environmental? ipod?
Meh.
What is with the "new" 3D craze again? We saw Bolt in 3D. Now Monsters vs Aliens, and Chuck? HUH? Is the economy so bad that we have to trot out technology that's 50 years old and get excited over it again? Sitting there with red and blue glasses on in our own houses? Where's my video phone? My no-calorie cookies? My laundry putter-awayer. These are the advances we need. Not stupid quasi-coming-at-you-tv. Lame-o.
The whole thing: meh.
My crab dip was yummy, though. I didn't put in too much jalapeno like last time. Also, I made cheddar burgers with grilled onions and mushrooms and balsamic mayo. Tasty. I'm really proud of us. We ate no chips, no wings, no gross stuff. My FOOD was healthy and fresh, if not low calorie. Maybe that's the problem with my diet--when all else fails, eat good food.
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