Better Than Grits

Out of Dodge

2009-04-15T22:02:00.002-04:00

Moved to WordPress:

http://betterthangrits.wordpress.com/

Complaint Department

2009-04-10T22:06:00.005-04:00

Well..... My theory last week was such that I didn't have much to complain about. I mean, after a relaxing, soul searching trip to locate my "roots" in Ireland, I felt at peace when I came home. I'd been everywhere my grandfather had been. I'd met people who knew him and heard numerous times, "Christ! You look just like Patsy O'Mahony!" (My grandfather's name is Patrick so Patsy is the nickname). I also heard as many times that I'm the spitting image of my mother. One cousin even said that if she closed her eyes and listened to me talk it was like my mom was there. Good? I think so!

So, I decided on Wednesday afternoon that I would not carry out my promised Thong Thursday.

Wednesday afternoon my daughter came home from school with "sand"' in her eye. Please know that she wasn't miserable... just uncomfortable. I tried numerous things to get it out. Including, saline, water, tissues, etc. It wouldn't budge. I got on the phone first thing Thursday morning to get her an appointment with an eye doc. After being seen, it turns out that EJ had some sort of metal in her eye. Metal that took wouldnt move even after three rounds of four adults holding her down. Metal that finally came out after she was wrapped in a sheet and strapped to a bed while a speculum pried her eye open and a jackass know-it-all resident scraped off the lens of her eye and NEVER sedated her. Screams, blood, tears, busted blood vessels, terror, asshole residents, sympathetic nurses and staff, did i mention asshole residents?

I will NEVER EVER EVER forget that afternoon. I will never forget the sound of my daughter screaming for me to save her. I will never forget the breakdown I had in the car on the way home when it was all over and she was asleep. I will never forget that night when I stayed up holding her listening to her whimper in her sleep.

This morning, we were given a clean bill of health. Her lens has healed and her eyesight is fine. No more risk of infection and possible blindness.

In five short weeks my baby girl has had: strep throat, impetigo, pink eye, a second degree burn on her hand which needed surgery, another minor burn on the other hand and then metal in her eye.

Still. She's here. She's safe. She's happy. She's safe....

I don't have a thing in the world to complain about. So, no Thong Thursday. I hope you understand.

AND just because he makes me smile, here's a picture of my grandfather, Patrick O'Mahony before he died. Isn't he handsome?

This was a difficult post to write as there were many emotions wrought within me. I truly believe that my recent trip to Ireland was one that brought answers to many questions in my life but also gave me insight into just what depths we, as mothers, will reach to provide for our children. I understand my grandmother so much more now and stand in awe of my mother as well. Go hug your babies...

I will never fail you, Eva Joy.... as long as I live.

Thong Thursday

2009-03-21T21:53:00.010-04:00

Okay, so I know it's not Thursday, but I have an idea:

I can't think of anything more irritating or annoying than a pair of thong underwear. Can you? If you don't agree with me you are a freak, or you haven't yet given birth to a giant set of shoulders attached to a baby. If you have and you still wear thong underwear because you want to and not because your partner likes it, then you don't know the likes of a hemorrhoid the size of a human head.

SO..... I'm going to dedicate Thursday's to anything I find bothersome at that particular time. Whatever strikes me as a nuisance that day will be the subject of my post. Feel free to comment with your bitch items as well. Misery loves company, right????

I see this as one day I give myself license to throw a hissy fit on the internet - guilt free.

Just wanted to give y'all a heads up on this one. I'll be on a plane to Ireland on Monday so we will start this tradition the first week in April. Aren't you so excited???

Go Play in the Street

2009-03-15T21:42:00.004-04:00

Okay, so it's no secret that I sit in the corner like a junkie waiting on the next benjamin I can drop in White House Black Market. Not just because everything in the store fits me properly, is black or is white but because everything is RIGHT THERE. Neatly displayed on the rack with its matching siblings in ascending size order. You can move seamlessly from this to that without missing A THING. Bliss! Arrive in the store. Be magnetically drawn to the thing you didn't see last time. Reach for what you want with the "M" on the tag. Take it to the counter. Get a nod for being a lifetime Black Book Club Member. Pay. Go home. DONE!

HOWEVER, certain economic restrictions are in place now and I'm on sort of a spending diet. Which means I'm not allowed to go in the new entrance to the mall. I have to park outside the department stores AND make sure I take EJ with me because she will THROW DOWN if I make her go in WHBM. For some reason that much black and white between four walls is too much for her to handle and she morphs in to a random X-Men character.

The reason I'm telling you all of this is that I'm headed to Ireland in oh, seven days and need several new pairs of jeans. My girlfriend, Rachel, can apparently spot a cute shirt/jeans/skirt/shoes on sale from the next state over. I'll admit I'm terrified of stores like Kohl's and Marshall's because I'm too lazy. The LAST thing I want to do is plunder through shit-tons of shirts whose only commonality is that they are a size medium! You gotta be talented for this type of shopping. Rachel wrote the fucking book. Naturally, I asked her to be my stylist/cutejeanshiddeninthegodawfulrackofdeath for the afternoon. I drove.

Within minutes I was given a job. "Go get a shopping cart." she said. I know she was just trying to get rid of me so she could do her thing. Which I'm sure if I waited around would have been something akin to psycho-kinetically pulling the cute shit out of the clusterfuck of hideous things I would have picked up were I left alone in such a situation.

I'm three new pairs of perfectpocketposition jeans richer and in total freakin' awe of my BFF.

Know It All

2009-03-12T19:30:00.003-04:00

"Mama, why do you have a stamp on your back?"

"Because when I was 18 I thought I knew everything. It turns out that I didn't."

"When I get bigger can I get a stamp on my back?"

"When you get bigger we can talk about it again and see how you feel."

"Okay, because I want a Dora one."

Mother of the Year Nomination - REVOKED

2009-03-11T21:13:00.003-04:00

Dear Ms. Levine,

We not-so-regretfully wish to inform you that your nomination for Mother of the Year is revoked based on the following facts:

Bedtime Lullaby Incident:
"Mama, please sing the piggy song"
"Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see. Sometimes your words just hypnotize me...."

Yeah Yeah. No more songs by dead gangsta rappers. Got it.

Snack Time - Child Given Grapes
"MMMM! These taste like fruit!"

Yeah. Yeah. Buy fruit so she can at least identify it. Got it.

Cultural Diversity - Lack Of
"Mama, why are there more vanilla people than chocolate people?"

Yeah. Yeah. Undo stigma and introduce more culturally diverse learning opportunities. Like, leave Evans every once in a while. Got it.

Unnecessary Paranoia's and Phobias
"Mama, if you see a spider out here you should leave the door open so you can RUN BACK IN real fast so it won't bite your leg off."

Yeah. Yeah. Stop exaggerating and inflicting my own ridiculous fears. Projecting faults. Bad. Got it.

Sincerely,

The People At The Grocery Store Who Stare At Temper Tantrums Like Children Are Alien To Us

p.s. Please schedule your grocery shopping during the 15 seconds you have between daycare and work each morning so we don't have to listen to the screams erupt from your child AGAIN about why she can't have the candy/balloons/toys we have strategically placed at her eye level so she will try to wear your ass out about them the whole time you are in the store until you are actually uncorking wine at the checkout. Shopping is a pleasure here, remember?

Padded Walls

2009-03-02T22:29:00.003-05:00

Saturday:
Blood-curdling screams from the back seat of the car. Child clutching ear.

Sunday:
Ear drainage. Begin drops.

Monday:
Ear drainage. Drops. Begin Children's Motrin.

Tuesday:
Ear drainage. Drops. Mama starts taking Advil.

Tuesday PM:
Mama has fever. Takes more Advil.

Wednesday:
Drops. Motrin. Advil. Mama's throat is swollen shut and body quit working. More Advil. Ear drainage starts to stink like the produce drawer in the refrigerator. Make appointment to have ear looked at on Thursday. Can't remember who took what meds when. Begin writing the doses down. Medicated child frolics through house taking advantage of mother's immobile state.

Thursday:
Mama can't move even more. Sends child with mere ear infection to school. Rest before daunting task of standing in the torture shower. Take both Tylenol and Advil because can't remember which one's turn it is. Take child to the doctor. Both child and mother diagnosed with strep. Call daycare and apologize PROFUSELY for being "that mother".

Friday:
More meds. More drops. Antibiotics.

Saturday:
Feel better! Can move!!! Child gets pink eye. Wine.

Sunday:
Back to the Doctor. More antibiotics. Child cannot come in contact with other humans for 24 hours. Cry.

Monday:
Take infectious child to work. Get busted by boss. Unsuspecting 20-year-old brother shows up at office and leaves office with rambunctious bloodshot eyed three-year-old with instructions to wash hands every 30 minutes. Worry needlessly about 20-year-old and 3-year-old. Should have worried about the state the house would be in at the end of the day.

Monday PM:
No new illnesses. Everyone is happy and healthy. Whew!

I'd say I'm going to work tomorrow but I refuse to jinx myself.

Three Days Down

2009-02-27T21:05:00.004-05:00

I have strep. So does my three-year-old. After being quarantined for three days I’ve made some personal discoveries.

Here’s what I know about myself and my immediate surroundings now:

I’m a big baby. I H.A.T.E. to be sick. I still want my mom to bring me soup and check my temperature. She offered to leave some soup at the front door this time. Actually Rachel offered the same thing. But she's pregnant.

Strep throat does not mean you merely feel like you are swallowing shards of splintered glass. It also means your clothes hurt. Your hair hurts. Your nose hairs hurt. Your taste buds hurt. Socks, sheets, carpet, toilet paper, sitting, standing up, moving, typing, seeing, you see where I’m going, all this shit HURTS!!!!!

I am quite possibly close to liver failure due to the Tylenol/Advil four hour alternating schedule I’m on. Which is funny. Cause I was SURE it was the wine that was gonna do me in.

I really miss my job.

I hate Dora.

Max needs to grow a pair.

I love screwing with telemarketers. They are easy prey and they aren’t expecting me.

I wonder what Portia sees in Ellen.

Kisses make everything better.

I am a nosy neighbor.

I can make it to the fifth "MAMA!!!!" before it actually registers.

I have the best friends in the world.

Facebook gets old. I'm the 5,763,894,907th member to think so.

My daughter is smarter than anyone else I know. She is also better at being sick than I am.

I wasn’t thinking ahead when I taught EJ how to use the remote control.

Scrabble Cheezits are fun AND food but there wasn't an "H" in our box. So, my idea to spell THIS SUCKS in Cheezits and then photograph it to use as the image header for this post didn't happen.

I am a master puzzle puttertogetherer. I've memorized a 62-piece Strawberry Shortcake puzzle too.

I should not swear out loud anymore. Really.

I’m sure I’ve made more self-discoveries. But I’m unable to think any longer. It’s enough that I’ve had to type with my eyelashes.

Fo Real

2009-02-15T00:22:00.005-05:00

...ya'll this is SHOOT YOUR DRINK OUT OF YOUR NOSE funny.

My long ago and much loved roomie, Kim.

Here Comes Another One!

2009-02-11T21:24:00.003-05:00

I love conversation hearts. Not at all for the reason you think either.

I mean Valentine’s Day is sweet, lovey, pink, and flowers and happy and I’m all for that and think it’s great! BUT! February is my birthday month! Yay!

February 18th....so....Valentine’s Day is sort of the kick off for my birthday week. Yes, week. It actually has a name too. AshleyGras (you know, since it falls around MardiGras). I didn't name it... I've just made such a big damn deal about it for so long someone finally thought it deserved a name.

When I start to see those little packages of conversation hearts pop up in sweet pink and red displays around town I get all giggly and excited! Ya’ll, I’m about to be 32 years old and I’m still not over it.

I don't think I ever will get over it either. Not that I should. I think we should all be excited about getting older. God gave us another year to be a part of this wonderful world and we should CELEBRATE it!

Another year for more accomplishments, bust your gut laughs, trips to the park with your kids, one more year to explore your heritage, road trips with friends, knock-down-drag-outs with your siblings, etc. You see where I'm going. It annoys me for people to act sheepish about acknowledging their birthdays. It's your day (week)!!! Slap a smile on your face and don't act like a jackass when someone tells you Happy Birthday!

And ANOTHER thing...call your Mama on your birthday! Don't wait for her to call you. She's the reason you are here.

(Little side note to my Mama: I love you and THANK YOU for being you. I'm your biggest fan and you give me someone to look up to. You make me strive each day to be better than I was the day before because you remind me that I too have a little girl looking up to me. You are the best mom in the world. totally besides me, of course.)

Now, for the love of bathing suit season, someone please take that jar of conversation hearts off my desk.

The Echoes of the Country

2009-02-09T21:13:00.003-05:00

Things heard during our recent trip to South Georgia:

"Just say white rabbit and it'll go away"

"Dude, scratch my head."

"Had to bury a cow this morning." "What happened to the cow?" "It died."

"Where's Judd?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's Chris?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the gun?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the beer cooler?" "On the four wheeler."
"Where's the four wheeler?" "Don't know."

"That's a nice fahr there." "Yeah, that is a nice fahr." "Probly burn all night."
"Damn. You could cook a fuckin' tater on that fahr."

"I'd have kicked him in his tea bag."

"That's like sayin' your baby is ugly."

"You tell him."

"Hey, Chris! The squirrel fell out of the tree."

"Imona put this log here to prop up this here other log."

"Hey, Bre, smile."

"I made the paper." "For DUI?"

"I think we have a flat tire." "Really?" "No, I just need to smoke."

" 'For you know it he'll be squattin' to pee."

"Did you hear that tire blow? We almost got killed! Dude that was cool."

"No, I'm serial."

Breakthrough

2009-02-01T21:28:00.003-05:00

My very own first photo shoot! With real people who are not related to me.

And also who actually WANTED me to bother taking their pictures! (unlike everyone related to me)

I think I did pretty good! Yes?

If you are interested in just how CUTE these kids are... here.

Bottoms Up

2009-01-29T21:22:00.004-05:00

Ya'll! One of my very best girlfriends is having another baby!

I'm pleased as punch! Not only is she a wonderful mother already to her precious son, she certainly does a stellar job of keeping me in check on a daily basis too.

It's kind of like I get a whole new baby too. Just without the extra bitchiness, swelling, heartburn, sore boobs, back pain, loss of sleep, loss of friends and family because they can't stand your bitchy ass (maybe that was only me), superhero sense of smell (which somehow manages to zero in on only those scents which spark gagspasms at most inopportune times), total loss of bladder control, etc. Plus, I get to drink wine while she grows this precious life. I'm so excited!

Rachel isn't going to find out the sex of her baby. Hooooray! It's the best surprise ever ever ever. I'm a big advocate of wait until the baby comes out to find out what you are having. That's what I did. Original? No. But I will lay claim to being the pioneer among my circle of friends. Besides, it opens the door for many opportunities to be a smart-ass to the many nosy people who will undoubtedly ask you a FRILLION times, "what are you having?" Just think about the possibilities! I left many a stranger slack-jawed in the grocery store with my answers.

Since Rachel called me and formally announced that she was off the Mucinex and did I need any (that's how she told me) I can't stop thinking about the day my daughter was born and the moment I laid my eyes on the most wonderful gift I've ever received.

Don't worry, I'll spare you ALL the details...

After the months of anticipation and I was a whole THREE days over due I finally broke the law and threatened unspeakable things to my doctor if he didn't induce me. He obliged.

I was in labor for 12 hours. 2 epidurals later I was happy. And excited. And terrified. And Oh My Gosh I'm Going to be a Mommy! I could not wait to see my baby! Three pushes and she was out. My doc was about to bust the whole time I was pregnant to tell me what I was having so even he was chomping at the bit to show me the hind quarters of my angel.

When my baby came out she was upside down and face down. All Dr. S had to do was just lift her butt up a little so i could see her nether regions. (Here's where it get's embarassing.)

During the labor process it seems that EVERY bit of her swelled up a little. Okay a lot. He held her up with a HUGE grin on his face (he knew what I was hoping for) and stood there while I looked. Squinted. Peered. Edged closer. Then PANICKED! Ya'll I panicked seriously. Because with all the swelling I thought she was a he but OH MY GOD! He's missing something VERY important! I choked back my tears and yelled out, "I CAN'T TELL!!!!!!!" Dr. S. had to turn the baby so he could get a look. Maybe he missed something too. He then focused his very puzzled gaze on me and said, "Ashley, it's a girl."

Oh. Whew!

Summer Lovin'

2009-01-22T21:28:00.004-05:00

"Mama! Maybe we can go to the beach house tomorrow and I can put on my bathing suit and you can put on your bathing suit and we can get my shobel and my bucket and we can play in the sand! Won't that be fun, Mama? I think that would be fun! And you can build lots and lots of sandcastles. Okay, Mama? Okay?"

"Yes, baby. Mama would love to do that. In fact, Mama wants nothing more than to be sitting on the beach with you making sandcastles and looking for Ariel again. This summer, Pumpkin, I promise. I'll even bring your Dora headband, your Tinkerbell sunglasses and your Princess bathing suit. You just bring those chubby little legs, okay?"

X Marks The Spot

2009-01-18T22:02:00.004-05:00

Today, my very good friend and her family were baptized. It was such a sweet moment to be a part of and I'm thrilled I was there to watch (and maybe shed a tear or two that won an eye-roll from Rachel. Whatever. I'm sappy. Deal with it.)

In preparation for the big event I took EJ with me to buy a present for Boden and a gift for his parents, Rachel and Brian.

After much deliberation we settled on this for them
and a toddler bible for Boden.

EJ spent the remainder of Saturday smitten with the glittery cross. Holding it up to the sunlight in the kitchen with remarks such as "look how beautiful, Mama!" "is this for Aunt Rachel?" "she will LOVE it" " I love it" "I wish I had a sparkly thing like this".

"Eva, you do. Everysinglethinginyourroom glitters with princess/tinkerbell/barbie luminescense. You have sparkly stuff. That one is for Aunt Rachel."

After the service today Rachel and Brian were called to the front of the sanctuary to meet the congregation and I headed back to the children's wing to fetch EJ and Boden.

Upon re-entering the sanctuary with both children in tow, MY child headed STRAIGHT for Rachel (where she stood talking quietly with our Pastor) and planted herself squarely in front of Rach and said in the loudest most inappropriate church voice i've ever witnessed:

"AUNT RACHEL!!!! WE GOT AN 'X' FOR YOU!!!!"

Violet Beauregarde

2009-01-17T23:17:00.005-05:00

I mean, not really, but I couldn't think of anything else... and she kind of looks like she's telling someone else what to do and just where to put it. Doesn't she? Where does she get that from?

And she didn't get a stomach ache either. Neener Neener.

To Whom It May Concern:

2009-01-14T21:49:00.005-05:00

Dear Tube In Eva's Right Ear,

Why are you crooked? Not in the "you are so crooked, I can't trust you in my house" kind of way either. Why are you in my daughter's ear SLANTED??? Slanted so that the snot/mucus/whatever drains out of an ear build-up cannot find a clear exit-path. Slanted so that her ear drum is about to BUST WIDE ASS OPEN.

I'm sure you've heard the blood-curdling screams erupting from her at say 11:00 pm, 1:00 am, 2:15 am, 2:47 am, 3:09 am, 3:18 am, etc. Do you get the effing picture? She's not happy with you! Frankly, neither am I.

I'm reading vampire books. I don't need ANOTHER reason to lie awake at night.

And another thing... it ain't no piece of cake putting those drops in her ear. Just in case you were about to get an attitude about being drowned twice a day. Pissing off your three-year-old is a helluva way to start and end your day FOR SEVEN DAYS IN A ROW.

Little mini-thanks to Dr. whoshallremainnamelessincasehiswifereadsmyblog for being so sweet when she tried to kick him in the you know what during the exam. Hey, Doc, next time we'll sit on the exam table so you won't have to sit on the stool. Kinda puts you in a pickle, huh?

We (Eva and I) would be much obliged if you would straighten the F up so we can get some much needed sleep.

Thankyouverymuch.

Elevators not Bombs Over Baghdad

2009-01-09T19:30:00.004-05:00

My 17-year-old sister showed up at my house yesterday. While I was home. Weird because she has a key and usually only "borrows" my house when she knows I'm at work. She also thinks I don't know this little habit of hers. Busted, Bre. I DO notice shit. I'm a mom. And I used to be 17. Double "oh-snap", because my friends and I INVENTED half the shit you are doing now. Just ask Rachel (who is to thank for the snappy title of this post) and Melissa.

N-E-WAYS. Here's my point. There is one, I promise. While perusing the Mac(daddiestcomputerontheblock)Book, she happened upon my iTunes library.

GASP! "You have Tupac? Outkast? Why does MJB look so YOUNG? Who is H-Town?"

Yes, precious Baby Sister, before anyone needed to beg forgiveness from Mrs. Jackson for the knocking up of the daughter, your big sister knew every word on Southernplayalisticcadillacmuzic and ATLiens.

I might have even been smitten with Big Boi before he bothered to become anything other than Antwan.

Thank God I didn't have to explain KILO. Even I don't have an answer for that one.

Sprinkler Head Games

2009-01-08T21:59:00.006-05:00

Last month, while I was busy planning CHRISTMAS and the many etc. etc. that accompany such I received a phone call at work from a young girl who desired a meeting with me so she could talk to me about How Great Her Product Is And When Would Be A Good Time? Uhm, Hello! You are interrupting valuable online shopping minutes! Because WTF? My Barnes and Noble Sale Of The Century Online coupon expires in 45 seconds!!!!!! I gave her the standard, "I'm working on my 2009 projections and will be better able to discuss that with you at the first of the year, please call me back then" which is marketingspeak for "I know you are READING from an EFFING script and I'm not sure you are worth my time or my company's dollars much less wasting time I could be Facebooking or at the very least peeking at budgets". Whew! She was obviously not into her job and let me go without a bit of lip.

Blissful silence from the godawful telemarketing coven. Until yesterday.

She called again. Here's how the conversation went:

"Marketing, this is Ashley."

"Hey, Ashley, this is Jenna." (My assistant's name is Jenna, so I had to take a peek into her office. From my adjoining office. Which means I had to lean over to the right. Just a little. Yep. She was sitting right there. It wasn't my Jenna prank calling me to get in her little dose of humor for the day. As if I don't provide that already.)

"Hi, Jenna."

(note: On The Phone Jenna doesn't pause AT ALL so all of this sounded like ONE WORD)

"Ashley, I called you a few weeks ago to talk to you about advertising with us and we are going to be in your area today, tomorrow and Friday, will you have time to meet with us?"

"Jenna, what company are you with?"

"Smart Kart. With a K" (She actually said that. How punchy. Replacing the C in cart with a K. That makes me want to use your company because of the ultra-Kreative way you did that.)

"Sure, Jenna. Tomorrow around 4:00 will be fine."

"Okay, great! What's your address?"

I gave her my address and began the I'm Ready To Get Off The Phone tone.

To which her reply was: "Ashley, just one more question. You sound like a direct person, (my BP just missile launched to 279 because while she is still reading from a script and is SUPPOSED to say that because she's used to being shot down a lot she has really no evidence that I am direct because I really was behaving myself this whole time. I was in bitch-slap mode. And she was about to be Bitch-of-the-Week.) and so are we, so are you the person in charge of making the decisions for the advertising expenses for your company?"

"Yes." (Not-so-subtle direct tone could be heard here. Now. Not before here.)

"Okay, great. I'll see you tomorrow at 4:00"

"Great, Jenna. I'm looking forward to it."

Jenna had it coming. Only Jenna didn't show up. Albert did. (I changed his name to protect my MacBook Pro because it's causing throw-up burps every time I think about it/him/it/things/ugh.)

At 4:10. 10 minutes late. Asshole.

Albert then came in and reiterated how important it was that I be the Decision Maker for the company. I should have lied and said no. To protect myself and my desk and the things on my desk like my keyboard, mouse, favorite pen, daytimer, Blackberry, drink, current projects, Christie's magazine. But I didn't.

Albert was a heavy man who was an obvious smoker so this caused HEAVY breathing. He also had a tiny separation between his front teeth which served as sort of a launch zone for SPIT COMING OUT OF HIS MOUTH every time he needed to emphasize something. Which was often. Bastard.

You must know that I am a germaphobe with a capital F. I've had to learn to let some things slide since becoming a mother. Not many. Even EJ knows the value of some "hanitizer" stashed away in Mama's purse. Because. GOD. People are gross.

For one solid hour I listened to why I should advertise with his company and watched spit fly on to every surface of my desk. I tried the first couple of times to memorize the locations of the spitlandings so I could target them when I was able to get hold of the Clorox wipes. No use.

THEN!

The gall! The audacity! The BALLS! To get mad at me because I told him that I couldn't tell him today whether or not I would sign up today for his BRILLIANT ADVERTISING SALIVA.

He then began to blame On The Phone Jenna for not properly qualifying me.

Yes, On The Phone Jenna, it's your fault, you bitch.

Where is the Clorox?

Encyclopedia EJ

2009-01-07T19:34:00.004-05:00

"Red-eyed tree frogs are afraid of hawks. And llamas."

"They are? I didn't know that."

"Just listen to Diego, Mama."

What happens when your new favorite shirt makes you look like the back of an SUV?

2009-01-02T18:14:00.011-05:00

You post it on your blog. That's what.

I FINALLY got out of the house for some "me" shopping. The therapeutic kind that is absent of the constant, IDON'TWANTTOGOINTHATSTOREIWANTTOTHROWYOURHARD
EARNEDMONEYINTOTHEWATERFOUNTAIN
OOOHHHCANIHAVEACOOKIE?
WHENAREWELEAVING?IWANTTOPUSHMYOWNSTROLLER!

The only thing that would have made it better would have been an extra wad of Benny's in my wallet. No go. I was on a limited budget. A frugal spender I would be!

I didn't even GO IN White House Black Market. Don't worry, I'm not sick or anything. I just have my eye on a few things which are going to require me to S-A-V-E.

I found this shirt.

I know, it doesn't really look like me. Except for the black. And the white. It took a lot of pickitupping and putitbacking before I decided to takeithome.

I wore it once.

The VERY SAME DAY I saw THIS. In two different places in the SAME DAY.

The shirt is in my closet. Where it will stay. For eternity. Or until I can forget about the ass-end of this truck.

Bow Your Head

2008-12-30T14:36:00.003-05:00

Scene: Eva's bedroom at bedtime two days before Christmas.

Eva (hands folded in prayer): Dear Jesus, please help my Mama not pick her nose so Santa will bring her presents.

Yes, Jesus. Please help me with that little problem.

What Saved Me

2008-12-18T13:50:00.011-05:00

Last Friday night was Eva's Christmas program. Eva's Christmas program. Not mine.

But guess who ended up on stage. Singing. In front of real live people who were laughing because I cannot sing. Nor can I sing The Twelve Days of Christmas even if you only give me a small part. A part which only consists of "...and a partridge in a pear tree". But one that has to be repeated TWELVE times. With a microphone.

Good thing I was wearing these.

Thank you, Me for dragging an unwilling three-year-old to the mall in the rain on Thursday evening to buy them because I listened to my conscience the last time and left the store without them. Poor babies.

Eff Up

2008-12-13T19:14:00.007-05:00

I'm not even going to sugar-coat this one:

I went to "meet" Santa today at Toys R Us. It was a very successful trip despite the near-to-tears cell-phone conversation I had with my mother while trying to decide which computer game was going to catapult Eva into a degree of learning ability that will guarantee her a Pulitzer prize by the age of 30. I finished out the trip with only two other incidents which had me gridlocked in the Barbie Princess aisle for more minutes than necessary.

After the nonsense and the continuing ability to maintain the steady stream of tinsel shooting out of my butt and a holly jolly smile on my face for the entire time I stood in line with all the penny whores clutching walmart sale papers to compare whose price was better, I headed over to Chick-fil-A for my new crack: a char grilled chicken salad. I made it through the traffic with more than a few middle fingers pointed in my direction only to discover that I had left my purse. In the shopping cart. At Toys-R-Us. Full of cash.

Thank you to the two sweet old ladies who found it and took it to the manager.

I'm ashamed to admit that I was CONVINCED there wasn't an ounce of morality left in anyone else on the planet and was resolved that my purse, my money, 13 barbie shoes, a bracelet made by a homeless child, several puffs with lotion tissues, the last tube of my discontinued Clinique lip gloss and my adored Coconut Lime Verbena hand sanitizer was on it's way to a fate I can't stomach.

Bless their little old hearts. I almost made out with them.

add it up

2008-12-08T18:38:00.002-05:00

Actual conversation about me:

Manager to cashier at grocery store: "You must ID all alcohol sales."
Cashier to manager: "Even if they look over forty?"

I sure hope the wine is good.