What I'm saying is...I have more important things to do this month than entertain you people. That's all.
That's right, go on now.
Shoo, shoo.
(Um...but come back soon, k?)
www.nanowrimo.org
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
November is NaNoWriMo!
What I'm saying is...I have more important things to do this month than entertain you people. That's all.
That's right, go on now.
Shoo, shoo.
(Um...but come back soon, k?)
www.nanowrimo.org
Friday, November 6, 2009
Fabulous Fitness Fridays, Tip #7
If you’re like me, you always eat all the leftover Halloween candy that didn’t get passed out to the kids on Halloween night.
AND if you’re like me, you always buy an extra bag of candy, *just in case* there TONS of kids this year.
So, NEXT YEAR, my advice to you is to make that extra bag of “candy” those little brown bags of pretzels that are sold right along side all the not-nearly-as-good for you sorts.
Then, when you fill up your candy basket, leave the pretzels out. Only put the “real” candy in first. Then, when there’s an entire bag of Halloween goodies left, it’ll just be pretzels, and NOT an entire bag of mini-Snickers. (With Halloween wrappings so you can’t possibly pass them off as treats for the NEXT season, and they therefore must be eaten immediately.)
AND if you’re like me, you always buy an extra bag of candy, *just in case* there TONS of kids this year.
So, NEXT YEAR, my advice to you is to make that extra bag of “candy” those little brown bags of pretzels that are sold right along side all the not-nearly-as-good for you sorts.
Then, when you fill up your candy basket, leave the pretzels out. Only put the “real” candy in first. Then, when there’s an entire bag of Halloween goodies left, it’ll just be pretzels, and NOT an entire bag of mini-Snickers. (With Halloween wrappings so you can’t possibly pass them off as treats for the NEXT season, and they therefore must be eaten immediately.)
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Female Pill
My mother and father-in-law (whom I like to think of collectively as the Pills) came to visit. While I sincerely do like my in-laws, they still are slightly insane, as all people are required to become once entitled with the words "in" and "law." And, after all, if a girl can't make fun of her in-laws, what would be left in life??
So I would like to share with you a few REAL conversations with my mother-in-law -
at the dinner table, halfway through the meal that my mother-in-law cooked because she loves being the Unsupportive Louse's mommy...
me (to the Unsupportive Louse) - "How was your presentation today?"
UL - "Eh. It's done."
Female Pill - "You don't like it?" it becomes clear after a moment that she's referring to the food we've been eating for the last fifteen minutes, and not actually anything to do with the question I just asked.
UL - "N--" even the Unsupportive Louse is smart enough to catch this...responding 'no' could be disastrous -- "Penney was just asking about my meeting at work. I was just saying I was glad it was over."
Female Pill - "Oh. well, if you don't like it, there's always leftover chicken in the fridge."
I simply blink in her direction. Best not to defend or deny a non-statement. Ignore.
after our heater broke...on a weekend...while they were visiting and the highs were in the 40s (...by the way, if you're interested in offering sympathy...or money...we had to pay $517 to have it fixed)
Female Pill - "This space heater actually works great." This said with a shocked expression on her face, despite the fact that I've already told her as much two times already. "It was really quite chilly when we first came down, but now the whole downstairs is rather nice." I casually glance at the thermostat, which is in the living room while she and the space heater are in the kitchen; it reads 72 degrees. I keep the house at 66 all winter.
me - "I told The Unsupportive Louse we might just have to use the space heater all winter if it ends up costing too much to fix the real heater; just leave it downstairs during the day and move it upstairs overnight."
Female Pill, laughing at my obvious stupidity - "You'd have to all strap one to your backs and take it with you everywhere you went!"
Did she follow the conversation...or did I just miss something?
at a restaurant where the in-laws very generously treated us to lunch - we're just ordering drinks -
me - "Can we get a milk for the little one" (pointing towards the "little one")
Waitress - "We don't have milk."
me - "You don't have milk?"
Female Pill - "They don't have milk?" A pause during which I request water instead. "They really don't have milk? What kind of restaurant doesn't have milk?" We're at Buffalo Wild Wings. For all intensive purposes a sports bar. That kind of restaurant doesn't have milk.
Two minutes later, the drinks arrive. The Female Pill picks up The Energizer Bunny's plastic cup with straw. "Don't you want some milk, Energizer? Why don't you drink some milk?"
me - "It's not milk."
Female Pill - "Oh. It's not? Is it water then?"
the males are talking about football, and begin discussing a former USC player who went to high school with the Unsupportive Louse and was drafted in the tenth round or something and was all annoyed about it...my silly little female brain didn't follow the whole conversation (possibly more to do with the Energizer Bunny than the femininity of my brain, but let's not split hairs) here's what I DID hear -
Male Pill - "Was he a year below you at school? Or was he in your class?"
Unsupportive Louse - "Uh, I think he was younger. I never had any classes with him." UL went to a fairly small private school
FEmale Pill - "Yes, he was." all three nod knowinlgy. Conversation continues surrounding the horror of being the tenth round draft pick, using dude's name continuously. I no longer remember dude's name. Blame the female brain if you must.
FEmale Pill, pretty much out of nowhere, in the middle of a sentence, breaks in, "Didn't you go to high school with him?"
So I would like to share with you a few REAL conversations with my mother-in-law -
at the dinner table, halfway through the meal that my mother-in-law cooked because she loves being the Unsupportive Louse's mommy...
me (to the Unsupportive Louse) - "How was your presentation today?"
UL - "Eh. It's done."
Female Pill - "You don't like it?" it becomes clear after a moment that she's referring to the food we've been eating for the last fifteen minutes, and not actually anything to do with the question I just asked.
UL - "N--" even the Unsupportive Louse is smart enough to catch this...responding 'no' could be disastrous -- "Penney was just asking about my meeting at work. I was just saying I was glad it was over."
Female Pill - "Oh. well, if you don't like it, there's always leftover chicken in the fridge."
I simply blink in her direction. Best not to defend or deny a non-statement. Ignore.
after our heater broke...on a weekend...while they were visiting and the highs were in the 40s (...by the way, if you're interested in offering sympathy...or money...we had to pay $517 to have it fixed)
Female Pill - "This space heater actually works great." This said with a shocked expression on her face, despite the fact that I've already told her as much two times already. "It was really quite chilly when we first came down, but now the whole downstairs is rather nice." I casually glance at the thermostat, which is in the living room while she and the space heater are in the kitchen; it reads 72 degrees. I keep the house at 66 all winter.
me - "I told The Unsupportive Louse we might just have to use the space heater all winter if it ends up costing too much to fix the real heater; just leave it downstairs during the day and move it upstairs overnight."
Female Pill, laughing at my obvious stupidity - "You'd have to all strap one to your backs and take it with you everywhere you went!"
Did she follow the conversation...or did I just miss something?
at a restaurant where the in-laws very generously treated us to lunch - we're just ordering drinks -
me - "Can we get a milk for the little one" (pointing towards the "little one")
Waitress - "We don't have milk."
me - "You don't have milk?"
Female Pill - "They don't have milk?" A pause during which I request water instead. "They really don't have milk? What kind of restaurant doesn't have milk?" We're at Buffalo Wild Wings. For all intensive purposes a sports bar. That kind of restaurant doesn't have milk.
Two minutes later, the drinks arrive. The Female Pill picks up The Energizer Bunny's plastic cup with straw. "Don't you want some milk, Energizer? Why don't you drink some milk?"
me - "It's not milk."
Female Pill - "Oh. It's not? Is it water then?"
the males are talking about football, and begin discussing a former USC player who went to high school with the Unsupportive Louse and was drafted in the tenth round or something and was all annoyed about it...my silly little female brain didn't follow the whole conversation (possibly more to do with the Energizer Bunny than the femininity of my brain, but let's not split hairs) here's what I DID hear -
Male Pill - "Was he a year below you at school? Or was he in your class?"
Unsupportive Louse - "Uh, I think he was younger. I never had any classes with him." UL went to a fairly small private school
FEmale Pill - "Yes, he was." all three nod knowinlgy. Conversation continues surrounding the horror of being the tenth round draft pick, using dude's name continuously. I no longer remember dude's name. Blame the female brain if you must.
FEmale Pill, pretty much out of nowhere, in the middle of a sentence, breaks in, "Didn't you go to high school with him?"
Monday, November 2, 2009
Date Night!!
I go to pull on my cute little short date-night skirt, proudly look down at my long sexy, freshly shaved…crap.
I forgot to shave a leg. Not my legs. One LEG. Singular.
And this isn’t like in high school when I shaved one leg every other day so they were always practically perfect, AND on weekends I shaved them both, both days anyway.
No, no, this is “Penney has an Energizer Bunny, has been working 60 hours a week and hasn’t had a date night in a month” legs. This is bad. One leg is smooth and glistening. The other leg? Hairier than a porcupine on Rogaine.
I didn't have time to dry-shave (I have the Energizer Bunny, I'm always running late)...so I pulled on knee high socks and hoped nobody looked at the six inches of left leg that was now showing.
The Unsupportive Louse didn't notice, so I'm taking that to mean no one else did either!
I forgot to shave a leg. Not my legs. One LEG. Singular.
And this isn’t like in high school when I shaved one leg every other day so they were always practically perfect, AND on weekends I shaved them both, both days anyway.
No, no, this is “Penney has an Energizer Bunny, has been working 60 hours a week and hasn’t had a date night in a month” legs. This is bad. One leg is smooth and glistening. The other leg? Hairier than a porcupine on Rogaine.
I didn't have time to dry-shave (I have the Energizer Bunny, I'm always running late)...so I pulled on knee high socks and hoped nobody looked at the six inches of left leg that was now showing.
The Unsupportive Louse didn't notice, so I'm taking that to mean no one else did either!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Fabulous Fitness Fridays, Tip #6
Stop drinking soda/pop/soda pop/coke/whatever you call it. For real. The NYPD uses Coke to disintegrate blood from the street. You want to put that crap directly into your stomach? It eats through blood, people! It's terrible for you!
I just don't keep soda in the house. (Though this also may have to do with the rather tight grocery budget...) Either way, the Energizer Bunny knows what "al-kee-hul" is, but not soda. And no, that doesn't say anything about my parenting skills, so stop thinking it!
(Oh, and don't just buy bottled water instead. Save the money and the earth, use your damn tap, people survived for thousands of years drinking straight from the ground, you'll survive drinking from your tap.)
I just don't keep soda in the house. (Though this also may have to do with the rather tight grocery budget...) Either way, the Energizer Bunny knows what "al-kee-hul" is, but not soda. And no, that doesn't say anything about my parenting skills, so stop thinking it!
(Oh, and don't just buy bottled water instead. Save the money and the earth, use your damn tap, people survived for thousands of years drinking straight from the ground, you'll survive drinking from your tap.)
Friday, October 23, 2009
Fabulous Fitness Fridays, Tip #5
Take MY dog for a walk. Sure, sure, you think taking your dog for a walk would be just as good, and I'm not saying it wouldn't help, but taking my dog is way better. I promise.
You won't just get a brisk 15 minute walk, you'll be required to stay outside, for a minimum of 30 minutes, and it won't just be walking. You'll have the pleasure of increasing stamina by chasing squirrels, birds, dogs and cyclists; increasing bicep strength by playing a random game of tug of war; and increasing heart rate by dealing with intolerant strangers after a tug of war the prize of which is said strangers. She will also force you to continue this shirade well into the depths of sub-zero winter.
She is for rent. Will consider adoption to a loving...er...tolerable home.
You won't just get a brisk 15 minute walk, you'll be required to stay outside, for a minimum of 30 minutes, and it won't just be walking. You'll have the pleasure of increasing stamina by chasing squirrels, birds, dogs and cyclists; increasing bicep strength by playing a random game of tug of war; and increasing heart rate by dealing with intolerant strangers after a tug of war the prize of which is said strangers. She will also force you to continue this shirade well into the depths of sub-zero winter.
She is for rent. Will consider adoption to a loving...er...tolerable home.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Silent Treatment
When I get mad, I get PISSED. I yell, I scream, I stomp my feet and throw things and break things and hit things...
When the Unsupportive Louse gets mad, he sulks. He introverts himself and ignores the world and maybe pounds a drink or five...but mostly, he gives me the silent treatment. (Which of course pisses me off more, because all I want to do is yell at him.)
The Unsupportive Louse likes to point out to me that my version of mad is a terrible example to set for the sweet little, as yet still innocent, Energizer Bunny.
And damn if he doesn't have a point.
So the other day we got so ticked at each other that he actually raised his voice at me (haha!!) and I thought to myself, "Fine, I'll be a wonderful example since you can't seem to handle your job and give you a little taste of your own stupid silent medicine at the same time. See how YOU like it." This all thought in a very mature and not-at-all snotty or whiny tone. Of course.
I say nothing in response to his almost-yelling. Other than to go away and leave me alone. Which doesn't really count. Besides, I didn't yell it.
He proceeds to invite The Mooch to drown his sorrows in cheap vodka with him, then very loudly begins to relate all our recent sexual encounters to him. (The Mooch is getting free alcohol and therefore will endure pretty much anything.) And since the Unsupportive Louse knows I'm attempting to give him the silent treatment, and he's actually still really really ticked at me (possibly deservingly, but whatever), he KNOWS I can't come down and stop him without admitting defeat AND apologizing. Which I am not likely to do.
So not only did I not get to yell and scream, I also had to listen to my most embarassing moments told to my BROTHER, which will certainly be passed on to my MOTHER (after all, if the Mooch had to endure it, may as well make me endure whatever The Walking Guilt Trip can give me.)
Screw this good example shit.
When the Unsupportive Louse gets mad, he sulks. He introverts himself and ignores the world and maybe pounds a drink or five...but mostly, he gives me the silent treatment. (Which of course pisses me off more, because all I want to do is yell at him.)
The Unsupportive Louse likes to point out to me that my version of mad is a terrible example to set for the sweet little, as yet still innocent, Energizer Bunny.
And damn if he doesn't have a point.
So the other day we got so ticked at each other that he actually raised his voice at me (haha!!) and I thought to myself, "Fine, I'll be a wonderful example since you can't seem to handle your job and give you a little taste of your own stupid silent medicine at the same time. See how YOU like it." This all thought in a very mature and not-at-all snotty or whiny tone. Of course.
I say nothing in response to his almost-yelling. Other than to go away and leave me alone. Which doesn't really count. Besides, I didn't yell it.
He proceeds to invite The Mooch to drown his sorrows in cheap vodka with him, then very loudly begins to relate all our recent sexual encounters to him. (The Mooch is getting free alcohol and therefore will endure pretty much anything.) And since the Unsupportive Louse knows I'm attempting to give him the silent treatment, and he's actually still really really ticked at me (possibly deservingly, but whatever), he KNOWS I can't come down and stop him without admitting defeat AND apologizing. Which I am not likely to do.
So not only did I not get to yell and scream, I also had to listen to my most embarassing moments told to my BROTHER, which will certainly be passed on to my MOTHER (after all, if the Mooch had to endure it, may as well make me endure whatever The Walking Guilt Trip can give me.)
Screw this good example shit.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Adventures on a Bike - Purple What??
Adventures on a Bike, Part 4
I don’t wear underwear under my exercise pants. Whatever, I’ve said it, it’s true, and I don’t care if you think I’m weird. I think you’re gross getting your underwear all shoved up your crack while stretching/running/biking/toning/jazzercising/curving/whatever. So there. Now, on to the important part of the story.
After work every day, I change out of my jeans or other much-less-dressy-than-you-wear-to-work pants (and underwear) and change into my biking pants. I then put my jeans in my backpack and ride my wonderful purple bike home.
For my birthday, the Princess, my darling though somewhat spoiled “baby” sister (of 25…again…years), got me a bike basket. The first week with my new fancy shmancy bike basket on the back of my bike, I get down with my backpack stuffed full of jeans and think to myself, there’s really no reason to carry this extra weight on my back now that I have this ever-so-useful bike basket! So, OUT come the jeans, straight into the basket and off I go riding home.
Now, it just so happens that my birthday closely correlates to the beginning of the undergraduate school year here on beautiful University of Michigan campus. Meaning, the undergrads are back. (Ugh.) So I got about a billion odd looks on the way home. This is standard. I believe between the ages of 18 and 22, developing and perfecting as many ugly, odd, dirty, bizarre looks as possible is almost as important as underage drinking and promiscuous sex. So fine, whatever, I got funny looks.
I arrive at home, get down off my pretty purple bike and go to grab my jeans from my new oh-so-practical bike basket. And yes, there is my lacy purple thong hanging not only out of my jeans, but out of the basket altogether, caught by one simple thread to maximize the viewing pleasure of undergrads and commuters alike, dancing along in the wind behind me.
I don’t wear underwear under my exercise pants. Whatever, I’ve said it, it’s true, and I don’t care if you think I’m weird. I think you’re gross getting your underwear all shoved up your crack while stretching/running/biking/toning/jazzercising/curving/whatever. So there. Now, on to the important part of the story.
After work every day, I change out of my jeans or other much-less-dressy-than-you-wear-to-work pants (and underwear) and change into my biking pants. I then put my jeans in my backpack and ride my wonderful purple bike home.
For my birthday, the Princess, my darling though somewhat spoiled “baby” sister (of 25…again…years), got me a bike basket. The first week with my new fancy shmancy bike basket on the back of my bike, I get down with my backpack stuffed full of jeans and think to myself, there’s really no reason to carry this extra weight on my back now that I have this ever-so-useful bike basket! So, OUT come the jeans, straight into the basket and off I go riding home.
Now, it just so happens that my birthday closely correlates to the beginning of the undergraduate school year here on beautiful University of Michigan campus. Meaning, the undergrads are back. (Ugh.) So I got about a billion odd looks on the way home. This is standard. I believe between the ages of 18 and 22, developing and perfecting as many ugly, odd, dirty, bizarre looks as possible is almost as important as underage drinking and promiscuous sex. So fine, whatever, I got funny looks.
I arrive at home, get down off my pretty purple bike and go to grab my jeans from my new oh-so-practical bike basket. And yes, there is my lacy purple thong hanging not only out of my jeans, but out of the basket altogether, caught by one simple thread to maximize the viewing pleasure of undergrads and commuters alike, dancing along in the wind behind me.
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