When I was a kid, it seems we went to a church potluck at least once a week. On one hand it was nice to get out of the house and see our friends, but on the other hand I was a very picky eater and I hated potluck food (I am still a picky eater, but somehow I love potluck food now). When I was a teen, the potlucks had another drawback, my mom. My mom would be a perfectly normal person when we were in the car, but as soon as she entered the potluck, she turned into a super hyper social butterfly that would flitter from person to person. She would make small talk with everyone and sometimes it didn't even make sense. I am sure she always did this, but it didn't bother me until I was a teenager and everything my mom did embarrassed me. We called this transformation "Potluck Mode".
As I got older, I realized that there was no reason to be embarrassed. It was hard, but I realized that my mom is her own person and if she fluttered around making embarrassing small talk, it was no reflection on me.
There were a few instances, when I was even older, that my sisters accused me of being in Potluck Mode. Usually it was when we were out with a large group and I was being especially the life of the party. This accusation would enrage me. Of course I was not in Potluck Mode. They wouldn't recognize Potluck Mode if it bit them in their buttocks. They were obviously just jealous of my popularity.
Now that I am super old, I recognize that I have Potluck Mode and I embrace it. Potluck Mode is the mode you go into when you have to socialize with people you don't know very well, but you don't want them to think you are unfriendly. Say you have a graduation open house, bridal shower, wedding, or baby shower, you are not going to be best friends with everyone that attends. However, you do want everyone that attends to feel welcome and to know that you appreciated their attendance. You don't want to be the dullsville guest of honor that opens a gift and can barely mumble thank you. You want to be the one that loudly exclaims how cute, lovely, pretty, useful or generous each gift is.
I am generally a shy person and it is hard to talk to people I don't know that well. Potluck mode helps me to get through it and make people feel welcome and included. Just because I am uncomfortable does not mean they have to be uncomfortable.
I know people that don't have Potluck Mode. They try to get out of parties in their honor. They get quiet and shrink away from big crowds. Even people that are usually funny and outgoing, sometimes panic in a crowd. When I hear these stories I think back to my mom's Potluck Mode and I am thankful that I inherited it from her.
Do you have your own version of Potluck Mode?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
ooooooh, you are gonna get a Whoopin!
I was talking to a friend of mine that has 2 preteen boys. The boys had done something bad at school, and she was telling me that when they got home, they got a whoopin. This brought back an elementary school memory for me and I cracked up.
I was very well behaved in school. Even though I was a complete angel, sometimes I would get in trouble for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of these places/times was a quiet drill.
(See, what an angel)
Teacher friends, do they still have quiet drills? When I was in elementary school, we would line up to go outside after lunch. If we did not line up quietly, they would make us go in the auditorium instead of going outside. In the auditorium you had to practice being quiet. You were not allowed to talk. Now that I think about it as an adult, it sounds like nonsense.
Anyway, some kids sitting next to me were talking during a quiet drill. If you were caught talking, not much happened except they would point at you and tell you to stop talking and pretend to write your name down. But even if they wrote your name down, nothing happened. The time that I was accused of talking, the other person accused was Sean. The ridiculous part is that I never would have talked to Sean. He totally had cooties.
The next day Sean's friends tried to make me feel guilty. They said that Sean's dad heard through the grapevine that he got in trouble and that he got a whoopin and that his dad put him in a cardboard box and threw him down the stairs. They said it was all my fault.
As ridiculous as their story was, I believed it. I went home and told my mom the whole story. The only response I remember is that she said that I was not allowed to say "Whoopin". She said that if she heard me say "Whoopin" again, I would get spanked.
Maybe I am confused, but isn't a whoopin the same as a spanking? I had forgotten all about this until I heard my friend use the term. Do you say spanking or whoopin? Did you get spanked or whooped as a kid? Which do you think sounds scarier?
I was very well behaved in school. Even though I was a complete angel, sometimes I would get in trouble for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of these places/times was a quiet drill.
(See, what an angel) Teacher friends, do they still have quiet drills? When I was in elementary school, we would line up to go outside after lunch. If we did not line up quietly, they would make us go in the auditorium instead of going outside. In the auditorium you had to practice being quiet. You were not allowed to talk. Now that I think about it as an adult, it sounds like nonsense.
Anyway, some kids sitting next to me were talking during a quiet drill. If you were caught talking, not much happened except they would point at you and tell you to stop talking and pretend to write your name down. But even if they wrote your name down, nothing happened. The time that I was accused of talking, the other person accused was Sean. The ridiculous part is that I never would have talked to Sean. He totally had cooties.
The next day Sean's friends tried to make me feel guilty. They said that Sean's dad heard through the grapevine that he got in trouble and that he got a whoopin and that his dad put him in a cardboard box and threw him down the stairs. They said it was all my fault.
As ridiculous as their story was, I believed it. I went home and told my mom the whole story. The only response I remember is that she said that I was not allowed to say "Whoopin". She said that if she heard me say "Whoopin" again, I would get spanked.
Maybe I am confused, but isn't a whoopin the same as a spanking? I had forgotten all about this until I heard my friend use the term. Do you say spanking or whoopin? Did you get spanked or whooped as a kid? Which do you think sounds scarier?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Middle School is very unpleasant
Today was the first day of Mommy & Me swimming lessons for Chazzy Chazz and I. The class itself was great. Charles was the biggest kid there, but he was also the best. He blew bubbles and splashed and laughed and had a great time.
However, this class takes place at a Scarlett Middle School. It has been a long time since I have been in a middle school. They are dingy and old and small. They have little tiny bathrooms, little tiny lockers, and the showers are low and have no privacy. The pool itself was nice, but it was badly lit. I don't think my Middle school locker room was so much better or anything, but at the time I didn't expect much more. It is bad enough that the Middle School experience was the worst two years of my life, but to also force those poor kids into such nasty conditions is just not fair.
Since then, I have gone swimming at very nice, adult gyms. Gyms that have family changing rooms, saunas, private showers and changing rooms. Middle Schoolers get none of these things. I have moved up to pools with water slides, hot tubs, and lazy rivers. It was very difficult to go back to a small dank pit of a pool.
To make matters in the locker room worse:
However, this class takes place at a Scarlett Middle School. It has been a long time since I have been in a middle school. They are dingy and old and small. They have little tiny bathrooms, little tiny lockers, and the showers are low and have no privacy. The pool itself was nice, but it was badly lit. I don't think my Middle school locker room was so much better or anything, but at the time I didn't expect much more. It is bad enough that the Middle School experience was the worst two years of my life, but to also force those poor kids into such nasty conditions is just not fair.
Since then, I have gone swimming at very nice, adult gyms. Gyms that have family changing rooms, saunas, private showers and changing rooms. Middle Schoolers get none of these things. I have moved up to pools with water slides, hot tubs, and lazy rivers. It was very difficult to go back to a small dank pit of a pool.
To make matters in the locker room worse:
- Charles peed on the floor through his swimmy diaper.
- We walked in on a whole family using the only real bathroom.
- We couldn't find the door that lead from the locker room to the pool. I was sure we would never be allowed to leave.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
What goes around comes around...even 25 years later
I had a wonderful childhood full of great memories. Many of these memories come from my years and Pierce Elementary. One memory is at the front of my mind because of a little incident from yesterday.
Yesterday I was training a class at work. Luckily, this class did not include any summer interns. Anyway, I turned around to face the computer. My butt was facing the class, when I let a little toot slip. I tried to pretend it was the sound of me clicking the computer, I hope that no one noticed.
Well, I probably deserved such embarrassment. The memory from Pierce Elementary rushed to my mind. All the kids were in the gym listening to a slightly overweight, yet very dignified, man tell us about the latest fundraiser. Right in the middle of his pitch, he farted. It was the loudest fart I have ever heard in my life. Maybe it was worse because it got picked up by the mic, I don't know. Anyway, at the same time, every single student figured out that the dignified man was the culprit, and each one yelled out "ewwwww" and scooted back two feet away from the fundraiser rep simultaneously. He was so embarrassed that he couldn't say a word. The vice principal had to get up in front of everyone to get them to calm down. I think the fundraiser rep had a hard time finishing his pitch after that. I hope that he didn't go home and cry.
Do you have any toot/fart stories? Did you ever call them barfing spiders? I did for a while after my cousin called them barking spiders and I didn't get it. I didn't get it for many years.
oh, and telling this story reminds me of a mini story:
Catherine to her young friend Kayla: "Do you know why they call them fun raisers? Because they raise the fun."
Kayla to Catherine: "No, it is a funDraiser."
Yesterday I was training a class at work. Luckily, this class did not include any summer interns. Anyway, I turned around to face the computer. My butt was facing the class, when I let a little toot slip. I tried to pretend it was the sound of me clicking the computer, I hope that no one noticed.
Well, I probably deserved such embarrassment. The memory from Pierce Elementary rushed to my mind. All the kids were in the gym listening to a slightly overweight, yet very dignified, man tell us about the latest fundraiser. Right in the middle of his pitch, he farted. It was the loudest fart I have ever heard in my life. Maybe it was worse because it got picked up by the mic, I don't know. Anyway, at the same time, every single student figured out that the dignified man was the culprit, and each one yelled out "ewwwww" and scooted back two feet away from the fundraiser rep simultaneously. He was so embarrassed that he couldn't say a word. The vice principal had to get up in front of everyone to get them to calm down. I think the fundraiser rep had a hard time finishing his pitch after that. I hope that he didn't go home and cry.
Do you have any toot/fart stories? Did you ever call them barfing spiders? I did for a while after my cousin called them barking spiders and I didn't get it. I didn't get it for many years.
oh, and telling this story reminds me of a mini story:
Catherine to her young friend Kayla: "Do you know why they call them fun raisers? Because they raise the fun."
Kayla to Catherine: "No, it is a funDraiser."
Thursday, April 29, 2010
This is not a Love Song
Last night the hubby and I went out on the town. We headed over to the Crofoot Ballroom in Pontiac to see Public Image Limited (PiL). As a band PiL had moderate pop/rock success through the 80s. Their biggest song in the UK is the semi-disco song, "This is not a Love Song". Their biggest hit in the States was the Rock song "Rise". Nathan says they are the greatest most prolific band you have never heard of. I bet none of these things help you know who they are. Most people know the band because of the lead singer. The lead singer is John Lydon. John Lydon is more famously known as the crazy eyed Johnny Rotten from the influential British punk rock band, "The Sex Pistols." I first heard of the Sex Pistols in the early 80s in the church children's choir. No, we didn't perform an adorable rendition of "Anarchy in the UK," but one of the older kids did write the band name in permanent marker on one of the tambourines.
We got to the ballroom a little early and stood in line behind a couple of youngsters (definitely under 21). Most of the crowd was quite a bit older than us, but we managed to find the two youngsters who loved vinyl and old music. One might think that we would get along great with our line buddies, since the hubby and I sort of fit into this category. It isn't like we were rocking out to PiL in elementary school. However, we don't like other people who think they are as cool as us or cooler. It did help that they were super easy to trick. Some of the people waiting in line, decided to wait in the bar attached to the ballroom. The boys couldn't get in. They were obsessed with the idea that those people were going to get in first. I had a wonderful time looking in the window and telling the boys that they were letting some people in while we were still standing in the cold. I also found a guy in the crowd who looked the part of a PiL band member. I insisted that he was in the band and we were definitely keeping track of his whereabouts. These little boys kept name dropping all the people they had seen in concert. "Oh, when I saw Lou Reed...", "Oh when I saw the Sugar Cubes...", "Oh, that guy is wearing a Devo t-shirt, we should get into Devo, we should get into Devo before Dave gets into Devo..." (for the record, Nathan and I are already into Devo) were all things they discussed. When a guy taking a survey asked them how they listen to music, they said they only listen to Vinyl. How hipster of them. I have plenty of records, but you can't listen to them in a car. That is why the world has moved on to other ways of recording music. They also were hoping that they would get spitted on by their hero.
The ballroom was a lovely place to see a show. They have a balcony with lovely tables and chairs. We nabbed chairs and had a great view. John claimed in an interview that he now sounds like a bag of kittens being thrown down the stairs. Despite that, he did a wonderful job and put on quite a show. He was a little paranoid though. He seemed to be super worried that the fans would try to get on the stage. Was he worried because he was in "Detroit" and we have a bad reputation? Was he worried that because of his Punk Rock past kids would come up and try to spit on him? Nathan seems to think it is a British thing. He brings his own security in the form of an old friend who happens to be a Soccer Hooligan (they call him John Rambo). During one of the last songs, the lead singer freaked out about one of the other security guards leaning on the stage. Because of this all the guards left and it was up to the hooligan to keep the few overzealous fans off the stage. If you are super interested, that clip from the concert made it online.
Overall, it was a lovely night on the town. What was the last concert you went to? How did it go? Children Choir Directors, what songs do you think would be funny to have the kids sing if it wasn't so inappropriate?
Compliments of the PiL Website.
We got to the ballroom a little early and stood in line behind a couple of youngsters (definitely under 21). Most of the crowd was quite a bit older than us, but we managed to find the two youngsters who loved vinyl and old music. One might think that we would get along great with our line buddies, since the hubby and I sort of fit into this category. It isn't like we were rocking out to PiL in elementary school. However, we don't like other people who think they are as cool as us or cooler. It did help that they were super easy to trick. Some of the people waiting in line, decided to wait in the bar attached to the ballroom. The boys couldn't get in. They were obsessed with the idea that those people were going to get in first. I had a wonderful time looking in the window and telling the boys that they were letting some people in while we were still standing in the cold. I also found a guy in the crowd who looked the part of a PiL band member. I insisted that he was in the band and we were definitely keeping track of his whereabouts. These little boys kept name dropping all the people they had seen in concert. "Oh, when I saw Lou Reed...", "Oh when I saw the Sugar Cubes...", "Oh, that guy is wearing a Devo t-shirt, we should get into Devo, we should get into Devo before Dave gets into Devo..." (for the record, Nathan and I are already into Devo) were all things they discussed. When a guy taking a survey asked them how they listen to music, they said they only listen to Vinyl. How hipster of them. I have plenty of records, but you can't listen to them in a car. That is why the world has moved on to other ways of recording music. They also were hoping that they would get spitted on by their hero.
The ballroom was a lovely place to see a show. They have a balcony with lovely tables and chairs. We nabbed chairs and had a great view. John claimed in an interview that he now sounds like a bag of kittens being thrown down the stairs. Despite that, he did a wonderful job and put on quite a show. He was a little paranoid though. He seemed to be super worried that the fans would try to get on the stage. Was he worried because he was in "Detroit" and we have a bad reputation? Was he worried that because of his Punk Rock past kids would come up and try to spit on him? Nathan seems to think it is a British thing. He brings his own security in the form of an old friend who happens to be a Soccer Hooligan (they call him John Rambo). During one of the last songs, the lead singer freaked out about one of the other security guards leaning on the stage. Because of this all the guards left and it was up to the hooligan to keep the few overzealous fans off the stage. If you are super interested, that clip from the concert made it online.
Overall, it was a lovely night on the town. What was the last concert you went to? How did it go? Children Choir Directors, what songs do you think would be funny to have the kids sing if it wasn't so inappropriate?
Compliments of the PiL Website.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Charlie is...a punk rocker...
What an adventure in uncleanliness today has been.
It started when I picked Charles up from Daycare. All the kids got together and painted a washer box and a dryer box. They did a great job, and even though Charles was covered in paint, it was adorable. He did a super excellent job of turning himself into a punk rocker. Charles kind of looks like Johnny Rotten anyway, but today he was extra punk with green and purple splotches added to his lovely locks. Ms. Connie, the daycare owner, apologized for what a mess Charles was, but I didn't really mind.
All the way home from daycare Charles was asking for cake. I new we didn't have any cake at home, so when we pulled into the driveway at the same time as Nathan, I suggested that we go out to dinner. I didn't want to disappoint Charles so of course we had to get a cookie sundae to split between the three of us. Normally Charles lets us feed him stuff like that, but not today. Today he wanted to do it himself. This meant that the little fella was covered in ice cream and chocolate syrup. When we got home, I knew he needed a bath.
Charles loves baths, so we headed up. He really wanted to sit on the potty, I let him but nothing happened. Nothing happened until he got into the bathtub and was in the middle of playing. I have fallen in love with Clorox disinfectant wipes, and I was using them to clean the rest of the bathroom while Charles was in the bathtub. This came to an abrupt stop when Charles had "That look" on his face. Just as I was asking him if he had to go potty, a giant log of poop appeared in the bathtub. It wasn't a little baby poop. It was a man poop. I quickly yanked Charles out of the tub and called for Nathan. Of course, Charles's hair had just been sudsed up with shampoo.
I asked Nathan to take Charles into his shower to rinse off. Charles refused to go with him. Instead he decided to pee all over the floor...three times.
Finally, when I agreed to go with him, Charles went into the "man shower." I thought that nothing could be grosser than a bathtub with a huge log of poo in it. I was wrong. The man shower, and the man bathroom in general, is much grosser than the poop bathtub. Of course, Charles loved being in the man filth. I cleaned him up as quickly as possible and sent him down to daddy with his jammies.
I finally attacked both bathrooms with cleaning products. The bathtub got filled with bleach water. Bath toys have been thrown away. I disinfected the entire bathroom floor. I hosed down the man shower with some really toxic smelling chemicals. As of right now, they are all soaking. I will attack again tomorrow after more cleaning products are purchased. I guess maybe the man bathroom has to be cleaned more than once a year. GEESH! COME ON!
It started when I picked Charles up from Daycare. All the kids got together and painted a washer box and a dryer box. They did a great job, and even though Charles was covered in paint, it was adorable. He did a super excellent job of turning himself into a punk rocker. Charles kind of looks like Johnny Rotten anyway, but today he was extra punk with green and purple splotches added to his lovely locks. Ms. Connie, the daycare owner, apologized for what a mess Charles was, but I didn't really mind.
All the way home from daycare Charles was asking for cake. I new we didn't have any cake at home, so when we pulled into the driveway at the same time as Nathan, I suggested that we go out to dinner. I didn't want to disappoint Charles so of course we had to get a cookie sundae to split between the three of us. Normally Charles lets us feed him stuff like that, but not today. Today he wanted to do it himself. This meant that the little fella was covered in ice cream and chocolate syrup. When we got home, I knew he needed a bath.
Charles loves baths, so we headed up. He really wanted to sit on the potty, I let him but nothing happened. Nothing happened until he got into the bathtub and was in the middle of playing. I have fallen in love with Clorox disinfectant wipes, and I was using them to clean the rest of the bathroom while Charles was in the bathtub. This came to an abrupt stop when Charles had "That look" on his face. Just as I was asking him if he had to go potty, a giant log of poop appeared in the bathtub. It wasn't a little baby poop. It was a man poop. I quickly yanked Charles out of the tub and called for Nathan. Of course, Charles's hair had just been sudsed up with shampoo.
I asked Nathan to take Charles into his shower to rinse off. Charles refused to go with him. Instead he decided to pee all over the floor...three times.
Finally, when I agreed to go with him, Charles went into the "man shower." I thought that nothing could be grosser than a bathtub with a huge log of poo in it. I was wrong. The man shower, and the man bathroom in general, is much grosser than the poop bathtub. Of course, Charles loved being in the man filth. I cleaned him up as quickly as possible and sent him down to daddy with his jammies.
I finally attacked both bathrooms with cleaning products. The bathtub got filled with bleach water. Bath toys have been thrown away. I disinfected the entire bathroom floor. I hosed down the man shower with some really toxic smelling chemicals. As of right now, they are all soaking. I will attack again tomorrow after more cleaning products are purchased. I guess maybe the man bathroom has to be cleaned more than once a year. GEESH! COME ON!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Eyjafjallajokull - all my fault.
Sorry Europe, the eruption of the Eyjafjallajokull volcano is all my fault. I didn't know when I first heard about it, but now I realize that it was divine providence.
This weekend we attended the baptism of my nephew, baby Tony. Baby Tony lives in Rhode Island with his parents Jason and Gina. It takes about 13 hours to drive to Rhode Island. When we were invited to the baptism, for some reason we decided to go. It was a crazy idea. Who drives 13 hours each way for a baptism? It was all part of the divine plan.
We drove through the night so Charles would sleep, it was pretty uneventful, but we did stop at every rest area we saw towards the end of the trip. When we got to Rhode Island, Grandpa and Grandma took Charles to go play with his cousins Dominick and Tony. The picture below is the only one I could get with all of them in it. They played together really well, they just refused to sit together to get their picture taken.
Nathan and I rested for a bit and then joined everyone for lunch and then watched the kids play at Jason and Gina's house. At one point my whole family was zonked out on Jason and Gina's couch.
The baptism was Sunday and it was beautiful, oh and I am baby Tony's Godmother. Ok, officially I am his Christian Witness because I am not Catholic, but I prefer the sound of Godmother. That is where the Divine Intervention came into play. Gina's sister Linda was originally scheduled to be little Tony's Godmother, but God thought that was a terrible idea and caused the volcano to erupt so she wouldn't be able to fly into town, therefore I would be the Godmother. God works in mysterious ways. Some might call me the substitute Godmother, but I prefer New Godmother or the Godmother of Destiny.
The picture below is of me and my new Godson. I had to have Nathan take a picture of just the two of us during the baptism party because he left me out of all of the official baptism pictures he took.
See, here is a lovely picture of the actual Baptism. You can see the Deacon, the mother, baby Tony, the father, the Godfather, but where is the Godmother? Maybe her husband cut her out of the picture.
Luckily Charles was very well behaved during the actual baptism. He was intrigued by a pigeon that was trapped in the church. He was not a good boy during the actual Mass before hand. We were sitting in the front of the church and he kept trying to make a break for the alter. I know Jesus said to let the children come to him, but I am not sure the priest would have enjoyed holding Charles while he spoke.
While we were in Rhode Island we had a wonderful time playing with Charles's cousins. Dominick loves playing the guitar and singing. He is going to be quite the rock star because he loves to perform. He also loves to get his picture taken.
Little Tony and Nathan also became quite close.
We did have a wonderful time for the short two days we were there. We drove back Sunday night. All weekend Charles cried when he had to get into our car because his Grandpa's car has a TV in it. We had a surprise of our own. We brought a little DVD player with us and we let him watch movies on the way home. He was in all his glory because it was close enough to him that he could manage all of the controls. I repeated the movie several times, but also skipped through the parts he didn't like.
We got home early this morning and had to drive through the Detroit rush hour. Nathan was amazing. I was in and out of consciousness for the last 3 hours, but he was a trooper and managed to get us home safely. I was so happy to have the day off today. Even with the day off, I took Charles to daycare. He didn't seem to understand why Mommy wanted to sleep instead of play.
Overall, the trip was a success. Also, "In your face Andrew, you are not the only person who can have two Godchildren!"
This weekend we attended the baptism of my nephew, baby Tony. Baby Tony lives in Rhode Island with his parents Jason and Gina. It takes about 13 hours to drive to Rhode Island. When we were invited to the baptism, for some reason we decided to go. It was a crazy idea. Who drives 13 hours each way for a baptism? It was all part of the divine plan.
We drove through the night so Charles would sleep, it was pretty uneventful, but we did stop at every rest area we saw towards the end of the trip. When we got to Rhode Island, Grandpa and Grandma took Charles to go play with his cousins Dominick and Tony. The picture below is the only one I could get with all of them in it. They played together really well, they just refused to sit together to get their picture taken.
Nathan and I rested for a bit and then joined everyone for lunch and then watched the kids play at Jason and Gina's house. At one point my whole family was zonked out on Jason and Gina's couch.
The baptism was Sunday and it was beautiful, oh and I am baby Tony's Godmother. Ok, officially I am his Christian Witness because I am not Catholic, but I prefer the sound of Godmother. That is where the Divine Intervention came into play. Gina's sister Linda was originally scheduled to be little Tony's Godmother, but God thought that was a terrible idea and caused the volcano to erupt so she wouldn't be able to fly into town, therefore I would be the Godmother. God works in mysterious ways. Some might call me the substitute Godmother, but I prefer New Godmother or the Godmother of Destiny.
The picture below is of me and my new Godson. I had to have Nathan take a picture of just the two of us during the baptism party because he left me out of all of the official baptism pictures he took.
See, here is a lovely picture of the actual Baptism. You can see the Deacon, the mother, baby Tony, the father, the Godfather, but where is the Godmother? Maybe her husband cut her out of the picture.
Luckily Charles was very well behaved during the actual baptism. He was intrigued by a pigeon that was trapped in the church. He was not a good boy during the actual Mass before hand. We were sitting in the front of the church and he kept trying to make a break for the alter. I know Jesus said to let the children come to him, but I am not sure the priest would have enjoyed holding Charles while he spoke.
While we were in Rhode Island we had a wonderful time playing with Charles's cousins. Dominick loves playing the guitar and singing. He is going to be quite the rock star because he loves to perform. He also loves to get his picture taken.
Little Tony and Nathan also became quite close.
We did have a wonderful time for the short two days we were there. We drove back Sunday night. All weekend Charles cried when he had to get into our car because his Grandpa's car has a TV in it. We had a surprise of our own. We brought a little DVD player with us and we let him watch movies on the way home. He was in all his glory because it was close enough to him that he could manage all of the controls. I repeated the movie several times, but also skipped through the parts he didn't like.
We got home early this morning and had to drive through the Detroit rush hour. Nathan was amazing. I was in and out of consciousness for the last 3 hours, but he was a trooper and managed to get us home safely. I was so happy to have the day off today. Even with the day off, I took Charles to daycare. He didn't seem to understand why Mommy wanted to sleep instead of play.
Overall, the trip was a success. Also, "In your face Andrew, you are not the only person who can have two Godchildren!"
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Bunnyville? Should be sucksville!
Last weekend, Easter weekend, the Detroit zoo had record setting attendance. Good Friday set a new record and even Saturday with rainy weather beat the previous record. Sure the weather was great, but I think the reason they had such great attendance was bunnyville. The zoo had planned and advertised all sorts of bunny related festivities. The one that really peaked my interest was "hundreds of bunnies" available for petting.
I am never one to try to attend the hot event of the season. I hate crowds. However, I love bunnies. I had images in my mind of Charles and I cuddling with bunnies and baby chicks. Charles would love them. I would get a ton of adorable pictures of him with little woodland creatures.
My friend Nikki and I took our boys to see bunnyville, Carter and Charles. There was a huge crowd trying to get into the zoo. Charles and I were very lucky. My friend Dale is a member of the zoo, and he met us there and got us in for free and we didn't even have to pay for parking. I was so excited to see the bunnies. That was the only thing on my mind. We bypassed a lot of regular zoo exhibits in pursuit of the bunnies.
Turns out, THERE WERE NO BUNNIES! Hundreds of bunnies were advertised. 25-30 bunnies were brought in. The bunnies had e-coli and the zoo had to get rid of them. I am not sure how a bunny e-coli experience would work. Did the bunnies have the runs? That would be messy even with only a few bunnies. Do they spread e-coli through their bunny droppings? Would the kids have to lick the bunnies? Anyway, there were no bunnies, and there were no animals at the zoo for us to pet at all. Perhaps they all had e-coli.
So, I hereby, call out the Detroit Zoo. Bunnyville was sucksville. Also, they didn't even have the train running on the biggest zoo day ever.
Despite visiting sucksville, everyone had a really good time. The boys enjoyed running around and playing on the playground. They made the most of the fountains and even just the drinking fountain. I was a mess all day from allergies, but it was still a blast to see the boys having so much fun.
Finally, right before the rain came, we headed out. We were completely exhausted. Nikki and Carter got Charles the most adorable stuffed orange penguin to remember his trip. As we walked out of the zoo, "uppy,"Charles said, asking me to pick him up. As I lifted him up, he launched his penguin over the fence into one of the exhibits. Did he want to see the penguin fly, or did he want to set it free? Charles either doesn't understand penguins or zoos. If it had been up to me I would have left the zoo without the stuffed penguin to teach Charles a lesson. The lady behind me didn't think that was an important lesson. She felt bad for Charles and dragged us back to the zoo greeter to see if he could let us into the enclosure to get the penguin. He took us to another person who led us to another person. Luckily, no one let us into the enclosure, but they did get Charles a new penguin. I wouldn't let Charles hold this new penguin.
The boys found the mister/drinking fountain. They loved it. Charles thought the drinking fountain was the best part.
One of the perks was getting bunny faces painted on the kids. I thought that Charles might throw a fit about it, but it turns out he loved it. It was really quite adorable.
There was a huge playground in the middle of the zoo. It was for ages five and up. Carter and Charles paid no attention to that. They LOVED it.
There was a little fountain just outside the penguin exhibit. I think that Charles thought that was why we went there. He thought it was great and the boys enjoyed splashing each other.
So, listen here Detroit Zoo. Sure we had fun, even without your bunnies, but you better straighten up. Next time we might find another zoo.
I am never one to try to attend the hot event of the season. I hate crowds. However, I love bunnies. I had images in my mind of Charles and I cuddling with bunnies and baby chicks. Charles would love them. I would get a ton of adorable pictures of him with little woodland creatures.
My friend Nikki and I took our boys to see bunnyville, Carter and Charles. There was a huge crowd trying to get into the zoo. Charles and I were very lucky. My friend Dale is a member of the zoo, and he met us there and got us in for free and we didn't even have to pay for parking. I was so excited to see the bunnies. That was the only thing on my mind. We bypassed a lot of regular zoo exhibits in pursuit of the bunnies.
Turns out, THERE WERE NO BUNNIES! Hundreds of bunnies were advertised. 25-30 bunnies were brought in. The bunnies had e-coli and the zoo had to get rid of them. I am not sure how a bunny e-coli experience would work. Did the bunnies have the runs? That would be messy even with only a few bunnies. Do they spread e-coli through their bunny droppings? Would the kids have to lick the bunnies? Anyway, there were no bunnies, and there were no animals at the zoo for us to pet at all. Perhaps they all had e-coli.
So, I hereby, call out the Detroit Zoo. Bunnyville was sucksville. Also, they didn't even have the train running on the biggest zoo day ever.
Despite visiting sucksville, everyone had a really good time. The boys enjoyed running around and playing on the playground. They made the most of the fountains and even just the drinking fountain. I was a mess all day from allergies, but it was still a blast to see the boys having so much fun.
Finally, right before the rain came, we headed out. We were completely exhausted. Nikki and Carter got Charles the most adorable stuffed orange penguin to remember his trip. As we walked out of the zoo, "uppy,"Charles said, asking me to pick him up. As I lifted him up, he launched his penguin over the fence into one of the exhibits. Did he want to see the penguin fly, or did he want to set it free? Charles either doesn't understand penguins or zoos. If it had been up to me I would have left the zoo without the stuffed penguin to teach Charles a lesson. The lady behind me didn't think that was an important lesson. She felt bad for Charles and dragged us back to the zoo greeter to see if he could let us into the enclosure to get the penguin. He took us to another person who led us to another person. Luckily, no one let us into the enclosure, but they did get Charles a new penguin. I wouldn't let Charles hold this new penguin.
The boys found the mister/drinking fountain. They loved it. Charles thought the drinking fountain was the best part.
One of the perks was getting bunny faces painted on the kids. I thought that Charles might throw a fit about it, but it turns out he loved it. It was really quite adorable.
There was a huge playground in the middle of the zoo. It was for ages five and up. Carter and Charles paid no attention to that. They LOVED it.
There was a little fountain just outside the penguin exhibit. I think that Charles thought that was why we went there. He thought it was great and the boys enjoyed splashing each other.
So, listen here Detroit Zoo. Sure we had fun, even without your bunnies, but you better straighten up. Next time we might find another zoo.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I don't get out much
OK, I do get out of the house a lot, but I rarely get out to try interesting new adventures. I might declare a midyear resolution to try out more new stuff and adventures.
The first new adventure was the Roller Derby.
The first new adventure was the Roller Derby.
I would like to say that I always wanted to attend a Roller Derby my whole life. What is there not to love? A sport with women in crazy outfits on Roller Skates definitely sounds like something I was born to do. The truth is, I never even knew what the Roller Derby was until the last few years. My friend Nikki invited me to attend the Roller Derby with her. She got us tickets to see the Detroit Derby Girls (click here ). I needed to do some research, so Iwatched the movie "Whip It". It was filmed in Michigan, so I felt it would give an accurate portrayal of what I was in for. It made me a little nervous that Punk Rock Guys would fall in love with me and also made me worried about what my outfit would be.
I was going to go with a totally punk rock look for the roller derby, but I reigned it in a bit because my friend Cleo told me I would look like a fool. Maybe I would have. I decided to just look like a chubby Teenager and put on some extra eyeliner.
The Roller Derby was on Saturday and it is located at the Masonic Temple in Downtown Detroit. Saturday night I headed to my friend Nikki's house to make her drive. I avoid driving in Detroit as much as possible. I can't speak for all people from "up north" but to me, everything south of Clarkston is Detroit and I get lost every single time I drive there.
The first adventure of the evening was that Nikki decided to stop at an ATM in Detroit. WHAT? This was a bad idea. We drove all over the ghetto until she finally found a party store with an ATM. I refused to go in with her. She left me in the car and I regretted it when the homeless man who looked like the "Pants on the Ground" guy from American Idol walked toward me. I am not really afraid of homeless people, but I am afraid of Detroit, so I was a little uneasy. Luckily, Nikki returned and we took off. As I looked back I realized the homeless man was wearing awesome jeans with very colorful embroidery all over them.
We finally got to the Masonic Temple and it is a beautiful place. I had never been there, but I thought it was a theater. It is a theater, but it also has a lot of other things going on. The Roller Derby was on the third floor in a very strange room. I couldn't figure out if it used to be a ballroom or a gymnasium. It was too nice to be a gym, but not nice enough to be a ballroom.
In the movie Whip It, the track is banked, there are railings, and there are bleachers. None of that was true for this Roller Derby. It was still really fun to watch, but it was hard to see. Next time we attend, we will get there just as the doors open so we can get the suicide seats. The suicide seats are on the floor right next to the track. You can see everything from there.
Overall, it was a good game and a good time. Detroit beat Pittsburgh 180ish to 150ish. The people watching was amazing (although, it was suburb city in there). Very few punk rock boys fell in love with me and my look fit in just fine. As an extra good note, the snacks and souvenirs were very reasonably priced.
I do have a suggestion for them. I think they should play somewhere with bleachers. It is super cool that they play in Detroit in an awesome old building, but probably two thirds of the people had trouble seeing the bout. I am not sure where they could go to have the same street cred but add bleachers, but it is worth looking into.
Other adventures I might try:
I was going to go with a totally punk rock look for the roller derby, but I reigned it in a bit because my friend Cleo told me I would look like a fool. Maybe I would have. I decided to just look like a chubby Teenager and put on some extra eyeliner.
The Roller Derby was on Saturday and it is located at the Masonic Temple in Downtown Detroit. Saturday night I headed to my friend Nikki's house to make her drive. I avoid driving in Detroit as much as possible. I can't speak for all people from "up north" but to me, everything south of Clarkston is Detroit and I get lost every single time I drive there.
The first adventure of the evening was that Nikki decided to stop at an ATM in Detroit. WHAT? This was a bad idea. We drove all over the ghetto until she finally found a party store with an ATM. I refused to go in with her. She left me in the car and I regretted it when the homeless man who looked like the "Pants on the Ground" guy from American Idol walked toward me. I am not really afraid of homeless people, but I am afraid of Detroit, so I was a little uneasy. Luckily, Nikki returned and we took off. As I looked back I realized the homeless man was wearing awesome jeans with very colorful embroidery all over them.
We finally got to the Masonic Temple and it is a beautiful place. I had never been there, but I thought it was a theater. It is a theater, but it also has a lot of other things going on. The Roller Derby was on the third floor in a very strange room. I couldn't figure out if it used to be a ballroom or a gymnasium. It was too nice to be a gym, but not nice enough to be a ballroom.
In the movie Whip It, the track is banked, there are railings, and there are bleachers. None of that was true for this Roller Derby. It was still really fun to watch, but it was hard to see. Next time we attend, we will get there just as the doors open so we can get the suicide seats. The suicide seats are on the floor right next to the track. You can see everything from there.
Overall, it was a good game and a good time. Detroit beat Pittsburgh 180ish to 150ish. The people watching was amazing (although, it was suburb city in there). Very few punk rock boys fell in love with me and my look fit in just fine. As an extra good note, the snacks and souvenirs were very reasonably priced.
I do have a suggestion for them. I think they should play somewhere with bleachers. It is super cool that they play in Detroit in an awesome old building, but probably two thirds of the people had trouble seeing the bout. I am not sure where they could go to have the same street cred but add bleachers, but it is worth looking into.
Other adventures I might try:
- Zoos
- The library
- Adult roller skating
- Mommy/child events/locations
- Biking
- Cougar Dance Clubs
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Deep in the Heart of Texas
I know two people from Texas and both of them are amazing and super nice.
That said, the media has taught me differently. The media has shown me that all the women in Texas have gigantic hair. They have also taught me that every parent in Texas pushes their child into either Football, Cheerleading, or Beauty Pageants. The children are not just pushed to participate, but to WIN. I would like to officially thank my parents for not pushing me into any of these things.
I think I got a free pass on Football because I am a girl. It is a good thing I got that pass, because I would have been terrible at Football. When I was a Junior in High School I played in the Porker Bowl (the one girl football game) and I was terrible. I also still don't understand the rules despite being married for 5 years to the world's biggest Football Fan.
I think I would have also had trouble with the Cheerleading. Sure, I am loud. That would have helped. I am also good at clapping and shaking pom poms. However, I am terrible at any sort of gymnastics. I took 3 seasons of gymnastics lessons as a kid. The first one wasn't so bad because I was young and I was just the worst one in a group of kids my own age. I would have to spend time in the corner practicing my cartwheels while the other kids got to do other things. I was 13 when I took the other classes. That isn't so bad except that I was still in beginners 1 and most of the other kids were 5-8 years old and much better at gymnastics than I was.
The fact that I was a chubby homely kid would have sealed my fate in texas. I would have looked horendous in a beauty pageant. But I do think I would have been good at the fake smile and pretty feet. I think I could have mastered the little routines and dances. I probably would have enjoyed the make up and stuff. But in the end, they are looking for the prettiest little girl and that wouldn't have been me.
I am in favor of big hair, but the nice thing about living in the North is that my naturally biggish hair is big in comparison to most. If I lived in Texas I would have to put in a lot more work to compete in the big hair department.
How would you fare in Texas? Are you from Texas? Is it really like they depict it on TV? Are there other places that work like this?
That said, the media has taught me differently. The media has shown me that all the women in Texas have gigantic hair. They have also taught me that every parent in Texas pushes their child into either Football, Cheerleading, or Beauty Pageants. The children are not just pushed to participate, but to WIN. I would like to officially thank my parents for not pushing me into any of these things.
I think I got a free pass on Football because I am a girl. It is a good thing I got that pass, because I would have been terrible at Football. When I was a Junior in High School I played in the Porker Bowl (the one girl football game) and I was terrible. I also still don't understand the rules despite being married for 5 years to the world's biggest Football Fan.
I think I would have also had trouble with the Cheerleading. Sure, I am loud. That would have helped. I am also good at clapping and shaking pom poms. However, I am terrible at any sort of gymnastics. I took 3 seasons of gymnastics lessons as a kid. The first one wasn't so bad because I was young and I was just the worst one in a group of kids my own age. I would have to spend time in the corner practicing my cartwheels while the other kids got to do other things. I was 13 when I took the other classes. That isn't so bad except that I was still in beginners 1 and most of the other kids were 5-8 years old and much better at gymnastics than I was.
The fact that I was a chubby homely kid would have sealed my fate in texas. I would have looked horendous in a beauty pageant. But I do think I would have been good at the fake smile and pretty feet. I think I could have mastered the little routines and dances. I probably would have enjoyed the make up and stuff. But in the end, they are looking for the prettiest little girl and that wouldn't have been me.
I am in favor of big hair, but the nice thing about living in the North is that my naturally biggish hair is big in comparison to most. If I lived in Texas I would have to put in a lot more work to compete in the big hair department.
How would you fare in Texas? Are you from Texas? Is it really like they depict it on TV? Are there other places that work like this?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Are you German?
Today, during a break in the class I was instructing, a guy asked me if he could ask me a personal question. I got a little nervous, luckily the question was simply, "Are you German?" I told him that I was not, but thanks for asking. He said he was just wondering because I really reminded him of someone who he used to work with. I suppose that person was German.
I have been asked before if I was German. At that time, the person thought that my maiden name, Hocken, sounded German. It isn't, thanks for asking.
Today the question made me wonder if I look German. My new last name isn't even close to German, it is polish. My Stereotype of what Germans look like, is that they are tall and blond. The two Germans that I know are tall and blond. Maybe I AM tall and blond. Sure, I don't think I am, but I could come up with a whole philosophical argument about perception and just because I perceive myself as a 5'2" brunette, that doesn't mean that the rest of the world doesn't see me as a 5'10" blond. In fact, I am now sure that is how the rest of the world sees me. America's next top model, here I come.
Perhaps there is a slim chance that I am not perceived by others as a 5'10" blond. In that case, there is still one way I might be mistaken for German. Just this weekend my Grandma was talking to my two blond cousin in laws about how neat and tidy they are. I think she used the word immaculate. She suggested to the German cousin in law that it was because she was German. According to my Grandma, all Germans are immaculate and that is why Jenny is immaculate. The other immaculate blond cousin is not German. The thought is that she learned to be immaculate from her mother in law of German decent.
This leads me to believe, that people are mistaking me for German because not only am I a 5'10" blond, but I am also very neat and tidy and clean. I must dress very sharply and I must be amazing at cleaning house. Now, I never thought of myself this way, but it is obvious to me now that the confusion is only being caused by my faulty perception of myself.
Why have none of you told me that I am tall, blond, and immaculate? Is it because you figured I already knew? How do you perceive yourself? How do you think others perceive you?
I have been asked before if I was German. At that time, the person thought that my maiden name, Hocken, sounded German. It isn't, thanks for asking.
Today the question made me wonder if I look German. My new last name isn't even close to German, it is polish. My Stereotype of what Germans look like, is that they are tall and blond. The two Germans that I know are tall and blond. Maybe I AM tall and blond. Sure, I don't think I am, but I could come up with a whole philosophical argument about perception and just because I perceive myself as a 5'2" brunette, that doesn't mean that the rest of the world doesn't see me as a 5'10" blond. In fact, I am now sure that is how the rest of the world sees me. America's next top model, here I come.
Perhaps there is a slim chance that I am not perceived by others as a 5'10" blond. In that case, there is still one way I might be mistaken for German. Just this weekend my Grandma was talking to my two blond cousin in laws about how neat and tidy they are. I think she used the word immaculate. She suggested to the German cousin in law that it was because she was German. According to my Grandma, all Germans are immaculate and that is why Jenny is immaculate. The other immaculate blond cousin is not German. The thought is that she learned to be immaculate from her mother in law of German decent.
This leads me to believe, that people are mistaking me for German because not only am I a 5'10" blond, but I am also very neat and tidy and clean. I must dress very sharply and I must be amazing at cleaning house. Now, I never thought of myself this way, but it is obvious to me now that the confusion is only being caused by my faulty perception of myself.
Why have none of you told me that I am tall, blond, and immaculate? Is it because you figured I already knew? How do you perceive yourself? How do you think others perceive you?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I love cats...
...they taste like chicken.
When I was a kid, I loved cats. I especially loved kittens. I would run through the neighborhood petting and cuddling with all the neighborhood cats. I was delighted when my cousins got new kittens, they were just about the cutest thing I had ever seen.
My mom always knew that I had been out chasing cats. She knew because when I came home my eyes would be red, there would be tears streaming down my face, and I would be covered in snot. All of this because I am allergic to cats. My dad is more allergic than I am. Everytime I got a chance to wish, whether it was a shooting star or a birthday cake full of candles, I always made the same wish.
"I wish for 3 more wishes. Then I wish that I was not allergic to cats, that my dad was not allergic to cats, and that we can get a kitten."
As I got older I avoided cats more and more because I understood the trouble they caused me. Cats also understand the trouble they cause me and they are always able to pick me out of a crowd to come rub against.
Because of all this cat drama in my life, I no longer love them like I once did. I don't hate them, but I don't love them either.
The lady who sits next to me at work LOVES cats. This made it very awkward when two of my coworkers recently stopped by to chat at my desk.
Friend 1 and Friend 2 (I have to protect their identities because I know a lot of you out there are crazy cat people) were at my desk. Friend 1 mentioned how she had to get rid of her dog. She mentioned how she missed him, but her family just couldn't take care of a dog. Friend 2 mentioned how he was about to get rid of his cat. Friend 2 loves animals and has a ton of pets, but his cat was getting very old and was squirting liquid cat poo all over the house. Friend 2 mentioned that he would probably have to put the cat down, and that the cat was currently locked in the basement. The cat was in the basement to avoid further mess and to help with the heart break of when it would eventually be put down.
We probably joked about this a little more than we should have. I realized it had gone too far when the woman who sits next to me got up and left her desk in a huff 3 or 4 times.
After my friends had left, I tried to break the ice by bringing up the cat conversation. She was super pissed and said that she had a few choice words she wanted to share with them, but held herself back because she was at work. I thought maybe we joked a little too much about it, but I didn't think it was that bad. I had no idea what to say. All I could say is, "I have no response to that." Then I turned around and faced my computer again.
Now that I think about it, that response could get me out of a lot of strange situations. Someone says something rude, annoying, or just bizaar...I say, "I have no response to that" and walk away. I love it.
Do you have a good saying to instantly end a conversation? Do you want to share it? Would you have told off my friends for talking about killing their cats? Do you think that cats are very sneaky and definitely go after allergic people because they know they can cause trouble?
When I was a kid, I loved cats. I especially loved kittens. I would run through the neighborhood petting and cuddling with all the neighborhood cats. I was delighted when my cousins got new kittens, they were just about the cutest thing I had ever seen.
My mom always knew that I had been out chasing cats. She knew because when I came home my eyes would be red, there would be tears streaming down my face, and I would be covered in snot. All of this because I am allergic to cats. My dad is more allergic than I am. Everytime I got a chance to wish, whether it was a shooting star or a birthday cake full of candles, I always made the same wish.
"I wish for 3 more wishes. Then I wish that I was not allergic to cats, that my dad was not allergic to cats, and that we can get a kitten."
As I got older I avoided cats more and more because I understood the trouble they caused me. Cats also understand the trouble they cause me and they are always able to pick me out of a crowd to come rub against.
Because of all this cat drama in my life, I no longer love them like I once did. I don't hate them, but I don't love them either.
The lady who sits next to me at work LOVES cats. This made it very awkward when two of my coworkers recently stopped by to chat at my desk.
Friend 1 and Friend 2 (I have to protect their identities because I know a lot of you out there are crazy cat people) were at my desk. Friend 1 mentioned how she had to get rid of her dog. She mentioned how she missed him, but her family just couldn't take care of a dog. Friend 2 mentioned how he was about to get rid of his cat. Friend 2 loves animals and has a ton of pets, but his cat was getting very old and was squirting liquid cat poo all over the house. Friend 2 mentioned that he would probably have to put the cat down, and that the cat was currently locked in the basement. The cat was in the basement to avoid further mess and to help with the heart break of when it would eventually be put down.
We probably joked about this a little more than we should have. I realized it had gone too far when the woman who sits next to me got up and left her desk in a huff 3 or 4 times.
After my friends had left, I tried to break the ice by bringing up the cat conversation. She was super pissed and said that she had a few choice words she wanted to share with them, but held herself back because she was at work. I thought maybe we joked a little too much about it, but I didn't think it was that bad. I had no idea what to say. All I could say is, "I have no response to that." Then I turned around and faced my computer again.
Now that I think about it, that response could get me out of a lot of strange situations. Someone says something rude, annoying, or just bizaar...I say, "I have no response to that" and walk away. I love it.
Do you have a good saying to instantly end a conversation? Do you want to share it? Would you have told off my friends for talking about killing their cats? Do you think that cats are very sneaky and definitely go after allergic people because they know they can cause trouble?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Heroes vs. Villians
I don't know if I can do it. My friend Nikki really wants me to, but I don't know if I can watch Survivor - Heroes vs. Villians.
If you don't know what I am talking about, look here: http://www.cbs.com/primetime/survivor/
I missed the first season of Survivor, but since then I have watched all of them except this last one. Sure, there are heroes and villians in each, and sure some seasons are more memorable than others. I really like the heroes. I know people respect the villians for their clever game play, and as long as the villians stick to that, I can appreciate that as well. In fact, many of the villians are down right funny. I love funny.
However, the reason I didn't watch last season, was Russell. I watched two episodes and couldn't stand it anymore. Thursday is a big DVR day, and I found myself dreading watching Survivor because this man did more than just game play. He dumped out water and burned people's socks. That was just mean.
Russell is going to be on Survivor Heroes vs. Villians. So are some of my favorite heroes. Heroes like Colby, James, and especially Rupert. I am sure these fellas can take care of themselves, but I don't know if I can watch some jerk burning the socks of characters I already love. It was hard enough watching him burn the socks of strangers.
Anyway, I will try. If I don't, I will be left out of so many conversations. Plus, maybe my boys will rally to get rid of Russell right at the beginning.
Who is your favorite Survivor? Do you like heroes or villians?
(Feel free to comment "I don't even watch TV" if you want to be smug.)
If you don't know what I am talking about, look here: http://www.cbs.com/primetime/survivor/
I missed the first season of Survivor, but since then I have watched all of them except this last one. Sure, there are heroes and villians in each, and sure some seasons are more memorable than others. I really like the heroes. I know people respect the villians for their clever game play, and as long as the villians stick to that, I can appreciate that as well. In fact, many of the villians are down right funny. I love funny.
However, the reason I didn't watch last season, was Russell. I watched two episodes and couldn't stand it anymore. Thursday is a big DVR day, and I found myself dreading watching Survivor because this man did more than just game play. He dumped out water and burned people's socks. That was just mean.
Russell is going to be on Survivor Heroes vs. Villians. So are some of my favorite heroes. Heroes like Colby, James, and especially Rupert. I am sure these fellas can take care of themselves, but I don't know if I can watch some jerk burning the socks of characters I already love. It was hard enough watching him burn the socks of strangers.
Anyway, I will try. If I don't, I will be left out of so many conversations. Plus, maybe my boys will rally to get rid of Russell right at the beginning.
Who is your favorite Survivor? Do you like heroes or villians?
(Feel free to comment "I don't even watch TV" if you want to be smug.)
Friday, January 22, 2010
No one cares what you had for lunch
For Christmas my friend Nikki got a book about blogging. I think she said it was called "No one cares what you had for lunch." The point of the book is that no one wants to know the stupid details of your life, like what you had for lunch. I agree, no one wants to know that for the 100th day in a row I had a plain cheeseburger, a plain taco, or a plain slice of pizza for lunch.
However, I think the activities that surround my lunch might be interesting.
A few weeks ago, as I was driving back to the office after lunch, and I noticed a car in the parking lot had a word written on the windshield in the snow. That word was TURD. This is one of the most hilarious things ever for several reasons.
I looked at her and yelled, "What is wrong with you? Stop this huffing! I cannot support this dangerous habit of yours!"
She looked at me and accused me of sounding just like Mary Margaret (my mom). She reminded me that she had never met my mom, but she was pretty sure that is what she sounds like.
Nikki claims that she was not huffing. She claims she is just very particular about the scent of her cleaning products.
I have seen more than my share of crime dramas. I know huffing when I see it.
What do you think? Is it normal to smell all the cleaning products as you walk through the store? Or do I have to start planning an Intervention and try to find a local rehab clinic?
However, I think the activities that surround my lunch might be interesting.
A few weeks ago, as I was driving back to the office after lunch, and I noticed a car in the parking lot had a word written on the windshield in the snow. That word was TURD. This is one of the most hilarious things ever for several reasons.
- Imagine if it was your car. You go out to it and see that the word Turd is written on it. So many thoughts would run through your head. Is the person saying that I am a turd? Is it an ironic message that I have "turd" on my windshield in the winter when all the birds have flown south? How did they manage to write it so neatly all the way across the windshield? Who was it?
- Why the word turd? They didn't want to use profanity? Again, was it being ironic?
- Who took the time to do this? It was in a professional building parking lot.
- Is it ok if I steal this idea and do it to others? I think this would be good for anyone who parks in two spaces, props up their windshield wipers, or looks at me funny.
I looked at her and yelled, "What is wrong with you? Stop this huffing! I cannot support this dangerous habit of yours!"
She looked at me and accused me of sounding just like Mary Margaret (my mom). She reminded me that she had never met my mom, but she was pretty sure that is what she sounds like.
Nikki claims that she was not huffing. She claims she is just very particular about the scent of her cleaning products.
I have seen more than my share of crime dramas. I know huffing when I see it.
What do you think? Is it normal to smell all the cleaning products as you walk through the store? Or do I have to start planning an Intervention and try to find a local rehab clinic?
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