have a happy meme-orial weekend

i got an email from my cousin, elizabeth, with this meme and i immediately thought, “blogfodder!” feel free to answer these questions yourself in the comments or on your own blogs… especially if i’ve tagged you.

three things that scare me:

1. cockroaches [totally irrational fear]
2. mascots/characters at amusement parks [i run into both all the time, thanks to my job]
3. the constant concern one has as a parent that anything will befall your child

three people who make me laugh:

1. casey
2. my dear friend, jeannine
3. my cousin, elizabeth

three things i love:

1. our cute little family
2. being on a plane, reading a beautiful magazine and listening to “shopping music” on my ipod
3. duh! my toothbrush! [see the post from a few days ago]

three things i hate/severely dislike:

1. insecurity [wreaks havoc on anyone upon whom it preys]
2. olives [good god, you put that in your mouth?]
3. pushy stage parents

three things i don’t understand:

1. religion
2. money
3. politics [it’s a good thing for me that it’s not polite to discuss any of them!]

three things on my desk:

1. la croix raspberry seltzer
2. my non-returning customer list
3. five paperweights [yes, I still collect them]

three things i’m doing right now:

1. watching otto play with blocks
2. trying to breathe again after having run on the treadmill
3. figuring out what to pack to bring to detroit

three things i want to do before i die:

1. perform again [i miss dancing]
2. have another even easier pregnancy/childbirth
3. go back to kaua’i! waaaaah!

three things i can do:

1. make a mean linguine primavera à la da eduardo’s
2. sew babyslings
3. help make people feel included

three things i can’t do:

1. play sports
2. lie
3. listen to country

three things i think you should listen to:

1. ben watt – buzzin’ fly vol. 1-3 [total summer music]
2. public radio
3. your intuition

three things you should never listen to:

1. the fashion mags
2. people who bitch about their kids all the time
3. a dog barking at 6:50a… if i have anything to say about it, damnit.

three things i’d like to learn:

1. japanese
2. how to be a better friend
3. midwifery! [if i can get past all the blood]

three favourite foods:

1. mexican
2. thai
3. anything from green zebra

three shows i watched as a kid:

1. tom & jerry
2. m.a.s.h.
3. the benny hill show

three things i regret:

1. letting people i thought were my friends in the past abuse me
2. not getting right back into working out after the baby [as i sit here unable to breathe]
3. that’s about it: i try to live with as few regrets as possible

three people i tag:
people that need to post on their rancid, rotting, stagnant blogs already:
1. jess
2. scott
3. my mom

today my horoscope read...

daily sagittarius forecast:
today you'll be happy to sacrifice any short-term gains for long-term growth.

well said.

i can't get enough

so, yeah, i think i am addicted. i knew i needed a new one [my old one was pretty worn out] so i picked up another just yesterday. i just grabbed one that seemed soft enough without any concern for color. i just wanted to make my transaction and get away quickly.

i took it home and put it away until the evening. last night, alone in the bathroom, i peeled back the wrapping with anticipation and examined my new purchase. hmmm... the handle has a nice little spot of squishy silicone to soften your grip. fancy! i gave it a liberal squirt from the tube in the drawer and thought, "here goes nothing!"

that's when i knew i could settle for no other. the working side, if you will, has multiple textures to really help get the job done. the other side, however, is blessed with a pad of glistening blue jelly with a nubbly texture to really add to the sensation... it felt like millions of tiny little fingers giving an invigorating massage... where you wouldn't expect it! like nothing i had ever felt before! just amazing! i was in there for a good five minutes, really exploring the possibilities with my new find until i finally felt i was totally finished. whoo. i think i might need to use this little gadget, like, three times a day or more!

yep...

mmm-hmm...

this new toothbrush is the greatest!

can i rock this haircut?

cast your votes. [that means you, too, lurkers.]

mothers' day debunked

you can call me a whistleblower, that's fine. no, i'm not going to out santa or the easter bunny or even the tooth fairy. i've just experienced my first mothers' day and, for those who have not yet or never will be a mama, i am here to expose the ugly truth, pull back the scrim, and let in the harsh light of reality. here it is:

it is just another day.

nothing will be different or special. in the end, you are the only one who can do what you do, so guess what? you are going to keep doing it. all day. just like yesterday. just like tomorrow. your lovely burgeoning bundle of joy doesn't know what day it is either, so he's not going to give you a break. in the end, there are lunchboxes to pack and toys to remember not to leave behind and diapers to be changed and cribs to be curled up in and you, my dearest, will be the one doing the doing. after all, mothers' day falls inauspiciously in the heat of probably every playoff season except football. you will be left holding the bag. the cruelest part of the joke is that the folks that will really want to take good care of you that day will be other mothers, but they'll be so busy doing their own mothering, they just can't stop to shoulder any of your load.

the truth is, i think they're busy earning their points. from what i can tell, it seems there is some frequent mothering program and as a new mama, you're a brand new cardholder with a big fat goose egg on your annual statement. in time, you'll receive some meager paybacks in the form of construction paper and glitter cards, followed by popsicle stick jewelry boxes, then quasi-edible, child-prepared breakfast in bed and so on. whee. alas, lovies, it does appear a little grim at first, but i reckon you can expect to see some change in your status once your small ones can largely fend for themselves. you'll know you've reached that coveted gold status when you're taken out for brunch by your adult children, awarded a pretty darn nice gift, and allowed the lion's share of your day to do what you want to do unfettered. the prestigious platinum elite members get it all, including the chance to actually relish time with little ones [grandbabies] on that day with little muss or fuss. membership does have its privileges.

i think the truth of the matter is we should all just cut to the chase and call it national greeting card day. those bastards make out like bandits.

giving vegan parents a bad name

can someone send a copy of this to prison for these dummies to read?

just got done reading this article and i'm just sad and frustated for the baby and other veg parents as a whole. the bottom line is these folks were just plain ol' not qualified to have a baby on the grounds that they are dummies.

run, big girl, run.

nothing quite like that first time working out. i think the last time i set foot in the gym was july and i was almost 9 months along. i'd just go and walk on the treadmill, my heartrate soaring, and then stretch and stretch and stretch. some woman came up to me and said, "i recognize you from the stretching room. good god, honey, you'll have no trouble giving birth." what a great little vote of confidence. i mentally opened the olive green tinted glass door of my bubble of peace after that one [it's a hypnobabies thing].

i think the capper to any further expenditure of energy was when i had my fetal non-stress test. i laid there, counting everytime i felt otto move, and watched the pen recording it bop and jive on the strip of paper. there was another pen that would draw its own giant hills on another line. i didn't really pay too much attention to that until one of the midwives came in and said, "can you feel that?" i told her no. after the next mountain, she asks, "does that hurt?" nope, i told her. i was having contractions every 3-5 minutes. after that, she said, "yeah, you need to chill out and take it easy." after that, i signed myself up for the roma-bark and lemonade diet and lived in the blowup pool in the yard, reading palaniuk.

now, i have what we used to call "dancer tan" in my dancing days [sigh] when your face gets brutally red from exertion... only i wasn't dancing [just schlumpfing on the treadmill] and this one is going to linger for hours like the mark of shame.

enano-nanoo

"shazbot! i'll never marry you because you're not [burp] catholic..."

after i moved to the city, i dated this little drunky irish guy who's name, when said very fast, sounds a little like "nanoo-nanoo", as in the trademark greeting of mork & mindy's mork. nanoo-nanoo is now the name my sisters and i use when referring to him. you see, he was short, with a big mardi gras head, a barrel-shaped torso, and little limbs. he would toss back a few too many and just be one of these mean, grimacing drunks, like an evil leprechaun.

just how irascible was this troll? i went to some cheesy, crowded lincoln park bar with him one night [well, almost every weekend, but i digress]. at some point, some big redfaced porkchop head was pawing at me, mumbling something about "sauce". nanoo-nanoo, noting his size, cowered by my side to grab my hand and whisk me home. by the time we arrived, he had sufficiently worked himself into a lather, stomping his little rumplestilskin feet and fuming that it was my fault because i was "dressed like i was ready for action." after all, i was wearing my most revealing turtleneck and my fuck-me khakis. tsk! shameless harlot.

now that he's long gone, my family asks, "wasn't he, like, part midget or something? like a dwarf?" he was a twin, i reasoned. besides, you can't be part midget like you can be part german.

today, i asked ana, our nanny, about
a cute little song she sings to otto. it goes something like:

un enanito
tire un bolita
¿donde fuera caer?

i knew it was about something throwing a ball and wondering where it went. an enanito, i also concluded, is a smaller enano. what's an enano? i asked her...

a dwarf.

skeletathlete

click to listen to its workout music

i was driving down ashland today in light, late afternoon traffic and passed [or was passed by] quite a number of joggers. i was feeling mildly guilty, sitting in my car on my fat duff in such prime weather for outdoor activity when i saw a skeleton in sweats bounding by. its head seemed fairly normal, healthy even, with a light tan, but its twisting radius and ulna exposed below the raised cuff of its sweatshirt glistened with sweat. the bouncing it did on its haunches at the stoplight did not strain its track pants with turgid, flexing hamstrings. it looked rather like a merrionette bobbing on invisible strings. my mind immediately generated a list of ways i could gesticulate to it to somehow derail it on its maniacal quest for death. i envisioned myself leaning over to the passenger window to do the babysign for "eat" [pursed fingers pecking lips] and seeing reason spread over its face like a beam of light.

am i being punk'd?

it's not even one o'clock, and the string of aggravating nonsense like boulder-sized breadcrumbs obstructing my path has already agitated my brain to a fever pitch. i can't get away from it. numbers transposed incorrectly, resulting in pissy emails. errors due to inadequate information are rearing their ugly heads. repeated requests to disregard last [insert your preferred method of bitching here]. all issues that are NMP [not my problem] but i'll end up adopting them anyway. that's just the kind of masochist i am. that's why i make the big bucks(?)

and here i sit at my desk, on a cool but sunny spring day, trying to duck and weave, shuck and jive, smile while wincing.

i need a vacation -- oh, wait. i just got back. damn.

dancing with the starlets?

i predict no three-peat for cheryl... and look at that dead person's hand around her waist!

generally speaking, i am not a big tv watcher in that i don't commit to many shows. i hate to be tied down to having to sit in one place for an hour or more and focus. since the introduction of satellite tv and its accompanying dvr [like tivo], i've been more interested in what the boob tube has to offer.

my latest love is "dancing with the stars" -- i can't get enough. it makes me miss dancing like crazy. the only problem i have is, since i never watch it live, i never vote. anyway, the couples are so cute, each in their own way, and i almost always agree with the judges. apolo anton ohno with his professional partner julianne hough are so ridiculously cute i could cry every time i watch them. i just read julianne is one of eleven kids and from utah. is she a lapsed mormon? ah, to be eighteen again. joey fatone and pro kym johnson are incredible, too. he is not afraid to shell out his fair share of the effort, busting out a tour-jete or head-high battement here and there. those women are, by far, the strongest choreographers, but they also happen to have the guys that can manage challenging routines.

i'm a little bummed that only one female star has survived. i wonder what lady could garner the fan power to be a serious contender. it'd have to be someone down to earth that would please even the cattiest of callers. maybe gwen stefani? charlize theron? halle berry? ellen degeneres? who would you suggest? do you watch the show? who are you hoping to win?