I went to the movies the other night with a couple of my girlfriends.
The theater we went to was one from my younger years; top of the line circa 1992.
The last time I was there was the winter of 2005 when I watched a Gummi bear travel across Middle Earth.
When I took my seat I was shocked at how, erm, small it seemed. I wondered...had they made the seats smaller or had my ass just become that much bigger....
At the end of the show the lights came on and I absorbed my dated surroundings. Examining the seats, I rationalized and justified.
It was the seats fault. It had to be.
Cause' you know...it couldn't possibly be my ass.
Showing posts with label Thats just wrong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thats just wrong. Show all posts
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday, November 7, 2008
bubble.
Dear Fellow Mommy,
You selfish twit.
Did you think it was a good idea to venture out to a play group activity sick?
What stroke of genius did it take for you to not only park you snuffly ass next to me and my baby but for you to turn your head in our direction and cough.
Twice.
I understand I can't live in a bubble (although I certainly do try my hardest) but I would expect a certain amount of common sense and courtesy when nursing whatever illness you have.
Why haven't you seen me in three weeks? That's easy, because we have been sick. Unlike you I choose to stay within the confines of my home when down with disease.
I have been living the last month or so of my life mentally curled under my blankets in the fetal position; things are not all rosy and half full for me right now. I made a considerable effort this week to attend the play group activity for the good of my cagey daughter; we both needed to get out.
And the thanks I get? A cough. A sore throat. Geee thanks.
Now even if my immune system was not seriously compromised on a level you could not understand, I would be miffed.
Because you are sick and have no business around other moms and their babys. Got that? Food store I get, we all have to live....superfluous 1/2 hour activity that your aggressive and mean baby doesn't even seem to enjoy? Not so much.
So in short. To you and to your fellow germ ridden bone heads.
Stay the hell home.
Thanks!
You selfish twit.
Did you think it was a good idea to venture out to a play group activity sick?
What stroke of genius did it take for you to not only park you snuffly ass next to me and my baby but for you to turn your head in our direction and cough.
Twice.
I understand I can't live in a bubble (although I certainly do try my hardest) but I would expect a certain amount of common sense and courtesy when nursing whatever illness you have.
Why haven't you seen me in three weeks? That's easy, because we have been sick. Unlike you I choose to stay within the confines of my home when down with disease.
I have been living the last month or so of my life mentally curled under my blankets in the fetal position; things are not all rosy and half full for me right now. I made a considerable effort this week to attend the play group activity for the good of my cagey daughter; we both needed to get out.
And the thanks I get? A cough. A sore throat. Geee thanks.
Now even if my immune system was not seriously compromised on a level you could not understand, I would be miffed.
Because you are sick and have no business around other moms and their babys. Got that? Food store I get, we all have to live....superfluous 1/2 hour activity that your aggressive and mean baby doesn't even seem to enjoy? Not so much.
So in short. To you and to your fellow germ ridden bone heads.
Stay the hell home.
Thanks!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
No journalist left behind act.
Exactly how wrong is it that the article claiming my area schools have failed the states standardized tests (again) was littered with grammatical errors?
Seriously.
Seriously.
Monday, October 6, 2008
I went to WebMD so many times that I got a hemorrhoid.
So I'm just wondering...
Why exactly is it that stores hide things like Preparation H and Tucks?
Is it some kind of sick joke? Are the managers up there looking through their big brother cameras laughing at my plight?
I looked under Itching/Burning Creams.
I looked by Medicated Ointments/Wipes.
Nothing. I paced the aisles at the over sized retailer becoming increasingly aggravated. My problem becoming increasingly aggravated. Having never had this issue before I was at a total loss.
I saw no signs for Embarrassing Ass Problem.
No Secret Sore Relief.
Suffice it to say the Get Your Anorectic Treatment Here signs were lacking.
Are they trying to make it so I have to ask someone? So I have to go up to the baby faced teenager stocking shelves and listening to their Ipod; the one who is yet to experience anything publicly mortifying with their body; and inquire.
"Where is the ass cream??"
Finally I spotted a grouchy looking older woman. She was walking as if slightly uncomfortable and B-lining for the Antacid sign. I followed her.
I saw her stoop down and pluck a box off the shelf. Bingo.
I never thought to look in antacid...I mean, isn't that, while still connected, a totally different part of the body?
When she walked awkwardly from the aisle I swooped in. There they were, boxes of my needed relief, on the bottom shelf.
WTF?
Adding to all of the walking and looking and stressing about asking I now have to squat to select my savior?
Oh cruel irony your name is retail.
Why exactly is it that stores hide things like Preparation H and Tucks?
Is it some kind of sick joke? Are the managers up there looking through their big brother cameras laughing at my plight?
I looked under Itching/Burning Creams.
I looked by Medicated Ointments/Wipes.
Nothing. I paced the aisles at the over sized retailer becoming increasingly aggravated. My problem becoming increasingly aggravated. Having never had this issue before I was at a total loss.
I saw no signs for Embarrassing Ass Problem.
No Secret Sore Relief.
Suffice it to say the Get Your Anorectic Treatment Here signs were lacking.
Are they trying to make it so I have to ask someone? So I have to go up to the baby faced teenager stocking shelves and listening to their Ipod; the one who is yet to experience anything publicly mortifying with their body; and inquire.
"Where is the ass cream??"
Finally I spotted a grouchy looking older woman. She was walking as if slightly uncomfortable and B-lining for the Antacid sign. I followed her.
I saw her stoop down and pluck a box off the shelf. Bingo.
I never thought to look in antacid...I mean, isn't that, while still connected, a totally different part of the body?
When she walked awkwardly from the aisle I swooped in. There they were, boxes of my needed relief, on the bottom shelf.
WTF?
Adding to all of the walking and looking and stressing about asking I now have to squat to select my savior?
Oh cruel irony your name is retail.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
it's wrong.
I saw a woman jogging up hill today with her leashed dog.
It was a Pekingese.
SO freaking wrong.Thursday, April 17, 2008
there's something about Ernie
Seriously...is it just me or is there something clearly wrong here?
Observe.
Exhibit A:
The high end Pampers Swaddler (in my humble opinion, the KING of disposable diapers):
Observe.
Exhibit A:
The high end Pampers Swaddler (in my humble opinion, the KING of disposable diapers):
A healthy happy and clearly interactive Ernie.
Exhibit B:
The Pampers Baby Dry with stttreeetcchhhhy tabs. Although still effective, this is a lower quality diaper. A zoned out Ernie gazes at us. He has had one too many hits with the snake if you get my meaning.
This is the gateway diaper.
Exhibit C:
The non stttreeetcchhhhy tabbed Pampers Baby Dry. This is the Job-Lot diaper. Ernie is kicking back enjoying a cold one. Do you see the manic look in his eye?
I understand that a higher priced diaper can mean a higher quality diaper.
But a higher quality puppet?
Oh....and who the heck is this guy?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
tastes like chicken
Chicken.
For me, chicken is one of the funniest words in the English language. It is. Second only to Monkey.
Funny word, funny bird but the idea of eating one is absurd.
heh
When I was 5 I asked my mother what chicken was.
She told me. (such a bad move that)
I threw a holy terror hissy fit, how could she have done that to me? How could she have fed me a formally living creature?? I felt betrayed. I soundly refused to ever eat meat again.
I stuck to it and was a veggie most of my young life. My diet was a battle between me and my Mother and there were times when she would win and I would relent.
But for the most part that was that.
I would no longer eat meat, any meat related product, or any morsal that may have come in contact with meat, a meat related product or a utensil that was used in the preperation of meat or a meat related product.
For me, chicken is one of the funniest words in the English language. It is. Second only to Monkey.
Funny word, funny bird but the idea of eating one is absurd.
heh
When I was 5 I asked my mother what chicken was.
She told me. (such a bad move that)
I threw a holy terror hissy fit, how could she have done that to me? How could she have fed me a formally living creature?? I felt betrayed. I soundly refused to ever eat meat again.
I stuck to it and was a veggie most of my young life. My diet was a battle between me and my Mother and there were times when she would win and I would relent.
But for the most part that was that.
I would no longer eat meat, any meat related product, or any morsal that may have come in contact with meat, a meat related product or a utensil that was used in the preperation of meat or a meat related product.
There was that pork dumpling in disguise in 2003, but thankfully I recognized it for what it was and spat it out.
Violently.
On Future Spouse's coffee table.
While he was eating.
...and he still married me.
My point...while enjoying Thai food last week there was an incident.
I was munching away when something very peculiar found in its way into my mouth.
This was my inner monologue:
Munch munch munch...
hmmm what is this?
munch munch munch...
This tastes really familiar...munch
I have not had this vegetable in a really long time (I actually did say that to myself...what is this vegetable?)
...what is this...
munch munch *swallow*....realization
Oh.My.RuntothebathroomandtrynottothrowupthatwasSOgrossbutkindofgoodinawaybutGROSSamaznghowitwasthetextureandnotthetastethatgaveitawayandIthinkIamgoingtobesickNOifIpukethisupIwillnevereatThaiagainandIloveThaifightitfightit!
...and that is how the clock on when I last ate meat was reset to zero.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Shanghai Red
On the final day of my recent imprisonment in NJ I had a visit from my mothers cousin.
My 'Aunt Mole'.
A little background. Aunt Mole can be over the top inappropriate; pretty much all of the time.
During my mothers memorial service she dramatically clutched me to her chest. "Ooohhhh, you poor thing" she bellowed, "You are ALL ALONE NOW!!!" (insert bawling on my shoulder here). I remember looking around the room at the gazillion people who were staring at me with great sympathy for this display.
Alone indeed.
While planning my bridal shower BF rang Aunt Mole to inform her that all of the bride's (me) Aunties were participating in planning the shower; you know, since I was ALL ALONE!. BF was met with silence. And then this....
"Maybe you should call the brides father and see if he will pay for it."
Click
She hung up on BF (can you imagine?) who hadn't offered anything more then for Aunt Mole to be involved in the planning not the paying.
So, when said Aunt invited herself over to see my off spring I accepted with little choice and great trepidation. What kind of story would this visit yield?
I could never have imagined.
Aunt Mole came in with excitement to see my girl. She came with all but frankincense and myrrh; but I truly believe those things were only absent due to her being Jewish.
Her greedy paws shot outward for my baby.
"Wash your hands please" I asked.
"Humpft...I always wash my hands!" huffed Aunt Mole as she stomped towards the sink with disappointment.
I bit my tongue.
She returned and I promptly handed over the baby.
Now a little background (I know she is all of 3 months how much could there be?) on Miss Riley.
She is a super cool baby. She is chill, she is friendly, not much ruffles her feathers. She likes the action, she likes most people and she is very much the little social butterfly.
She did her duty for Aunt Mole. She sat quietly in her lap and tolerated the petting and pawing. She squawked when Aunt Mole went to cradle her. I chimed in, "She really likes to sit up." Aunt Mole huffed and sat Riley back up right.
At this point my daughter turns her head and looks at me for help.
And that is when it happened.
Aunt Mole kissed my girl. Right in the middle of her forehead. With dark. red. lipstick.
I bit my tongue, oh how I bit it! Years of loosing clothing and makeup jobs to this generation of woman flashed before my eyes. The woman in my family who have to slather dark. red. lipstick. on prior to any interaction with any other human being on the planet. Years of these woman kissing me, hugging me, bawling on me. With dark. red. lipstick.
I should have known, I should have foreseen it!
This is what happened next, so fast that I couldn't react.
Aunt Mole notices what she has done. She then smears the lipstick into a dark red stain across my child's head. She huffs.
She takes the burp cloth and rubs it over the babies forehead. Rubs rubs rubs.
She rubs harder.
She licks the cloth and rubs again.
At this point I see myself mentally sprinting across the room screaming "NOOOOOO!!!" but in reality I am still yet to move. I am in shock. I am aware that my mouth is hanging open and that my hand is up in the "Stop" position and that this woman is about to maul my child but still, I am frozen.
She rubs and rubs.
She huffs.
Aunt Mole licks her thumb and rubs again. Again, and again and again.
The now lighter red stain is creeping into Riley's hairline. The baby is looking at me for help. Her brow is furrowed and her boo-boo lip is starting to appear. The whine is grumbling low in her throat. She is going to cry.
Cry my child CRY!
No one, not even me who knows what Aunt Mole is capable of could have fathomed what would happen next.
Aunt Mole looked at the baby. The baby looked back with tears and mistrust in her eyes.
Aunt Mole leaned forward.
And licked her.
She licked her.
She licked my baby.
The woman I made wash her hands before touching her. Licked her.
On the head.
Twice.
At this point I bolted forward. I whisked my now screaming child from her arms mumbling something about how "I could just get a wet wipe you know" and I raced away.
Riley looked up into my eyes. Through her tear and lipstick stained face she wailed accusingly.
I hear Aunt Mole mumble from behind me (because she followed me) something about how a wet wipe "might work", because you know, tongues are so much more affective.
After gently trying to remove the stain I silently resolved that I would need an actual a bath, actual soap and possibly an exfoliating substance to remove it.
The was baby still crying; I excused myself to nurse and calm her. Aunt Mole toddled after me and plopped down on the bed beside me.
I bit my tongue (which was almost bleeding at this point I assure you). I was over whelmed. Someone had just licked my child.
I hadn't even licked her. Forget that this scenario begs why you would lick a baby in the first place but who licks another persons baby???
Apparently, Aunt Mole.
The visit ended without further event (mainly because I soundly refused despite the under the breath huffing, to give the baby back to her).
Aunt Mole went to leave a short time later. Standing at the door she leaned in and gave me a hug good bye. No Kiss. Excellent.
She complimented me again on the wonders of my daughter. I thanked her sincerely.
Then, almost before I knew it, she kissed her.
Right on the cheek.
Oh Gawd!
Bath time could not come fast enough.
My 'Aunt Mole'.
A little background. Aunt Mole can be over the top inappropriate; pretty much all of the time.
During my mothers memorial service she dramatically clutched me to her chest. "Ooohhhh, you poor thing" she bellowed, "You are ALL ALONE NOW!!!" (insert bawling on my shoulder here). I remember looking around the room at the gazillion people who were staring at me with great sympathy for this display.
Alone indeed.
While planning my bridal shower BF rang Aunt Mole to inform her that all of the bride's (me) Aunties were participating in planning the shower; you know, since I was ALL ALONE!. BF was met with silence. And then this....
"Maybe you should call the brides father and see if he will pay for it."
Click
She hung up on BF (can you imagine?) who hadn't offered anything more then for Aunt Mole to be involved in the planning not the paying.
So, when said Aunt invited herself over to see my off spring I accepted with little choice and great trepidation. What kind of story would this visit yield?
I could never have imagined.
Aunt Mole came in with excitement to see my girl. She came with all but frankincense and myrrh; but I truly believe those things were only absent due to her being Jewish.
Her greedy paws shot outward for my baby.
"Wash your hands please" I asked.
"Humpft...I always wash my hands!" huffed Aunt Mole as she stomped towards the sink with disappointment.
I bit my tongue.
She returned and I promptly handed over the baby.
Now a little background (I know she is all of 3 months how much could there be?) on Miss Riley.
She is a super cool baby. She is chill, she is friendly, not much ruffles her feathers. She likes the action, she likes most people and she is very much the little social butterfly.
She did her duty for Aunt Mole. She sat quietly in her lap and tolerated the petting and pawing. She squawked when Aunt Mole went to cradle her. I chimed in, "She really likes to sit up." Aunt Mole huffed and sat Riley back up right.
At this point my daughter turns her head and looks at me for help.
And that is when it happened.
Aunt Mole kissed my girl. Right in the middle of her forehead. With dark. red. lipstick.
I bit my tongue, oh how I bit it! Years of loosing clothing and makeup jobs to this generation of woman flashed before my eyes. The woman in my family who have to slather dark. red. lipstick. on prior to any interaction with any other human being on the planet. Years of these woman kissing me, hugging me, bawling on me. With dark. red. lipstick.
I should have known, I should have foreseen it!
This is what happened next, so fast that I couldn't react.
Aunt Mole notices what she has done. She then smears the lipstick into a dark red stain across my child's head. She huffs.
She takes the burp cloth and rubs it over the babies forehead. Rubs rubs rubs.
She rubs harder.
She licks the cloth and rubs again.
At this point I see myself mentally sprinting across the room screaming "NOOOOOO!!!" but in reality I am still yet to move. I am in shock. I am aware that my mouth is hanging open and that my hand is up in the "Stop" position and that this woman is about to maul my child but still, I am frozen.
She rubs and rubs.
She huffs.
Aunt Mole licks her thumb and rubs again. Again, and again and again.
The now lighter red stain is creeping into Riley's hairline. The baby is looking at me for help. Her brow is furrowed and her boo-boo lip is starting to appear. The whine is grumbling low in her throat. She is going to cry.
Cry my child CRY!
No one, not even me who knows what Aunt Mole is capable of could have fathomed what would happen next.
Aunt Mole looked at the baby. The baby looked back with tears and mistrust in her eyes.
Aunt Mole leaned forward.
And licked her.
She licked her.
She licked my baby.
The woman I made wash her hands before touching her. Licked her.
On the head.
Twice.
At this point I bolted forward. I whisked my now screaming child from her arms mumbling something about how "I could just get a wet wipe you know" and I raced away.
Riley looked up into my eyes. Through her tear and lipstick stained face she wailed accusingly.
I hear Aunt Mole mumble from behind me (because she followed me) something about how a wet wipe "might work", because you know, tongues are so much more affective.
After gently trying to remove the stain I silently resolved that I would need an actual a bath, actual soap and possibly an exfoliating substance to remove it.
The was baby still crying; I excused myself to nurse and calm her. Aunt Mole toddled after me and plopped down on the bed beside me.
I bit my tongue (which was almost bleeding at this point I assure you). I was over whelmed. Someone had just licked my child.
I hadn't even licked her. Forget that this scenario begs why you would lick a baby in the first place but who licks another persons baby???
Apparently, Aunt Mole.
The visit ended without further event (mainly because I soundly refused despite the under the breath huffing, to give the baby back to her).
Aunt Mole went to leave a short time later. Standing at the door she leaned in and gave me a hug good bye. No Kiss. Excellent.
She complimented me again on the wonders of my daughter. I thanked her sincerely.
Then, almost before I knew it, she kissed her.
Right on the cheek.
Oh Gawd!
Bath time could not come fast enough.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Is It Wrong??
Please feel free to weigh in on the following moral and ethical problems I am currently facing....
1) Is it wrong to want to unload a cat because he annoys you? Really...We don't like him...he smells like death, he eats puke (eeekkk), he CRIES at all hours of the night for no reason and he is deeply deeply stupid.
I mean, you cant get rid of your kid if you just don't like it so does the same apply to pets?
2)Is it wrong, when putting your baby to bed, to consider not pulling her arms through her onezie and calling that a swaddle? This child has never met a swaddle blanket, mechanism or technique she could not best. So why not just remove her arms entirely from the equation by forgetting to put them through the sleeves. Logical right?
3) Is it wrong that you totally ignored a minor fender bender that happened right next to you in a parking lot? There were extenuating circumstances...the babe was starving, you know, wasting away to nothing, kind of hungry. I had just popped her on and I hear 'Bang'. I don't think they saw me there, tinted windows and all, and they both stopped and exchanged info...but I didn't step forward with the "she did it" side of the story you know?
4) Is it wrong to feed your spouse Hot Pockets 5 out of 7 nights a week? You really have no idea where the day goes and right around the time you remember you didn't eat lunch he comes home for dinner. What else can be done??
5) Is it wrong that when gifted with two and only two Superbowl tickets that you totally forget your cousin who uses one of your season seats all year long? You forget him to the point that flights are booked and paid for and then you think..."Hey wait a minute...shouldn't one of these seats go to Ray??"
...that's just today. I could easily do this once a week.
So whats the input?
What in your life is just wrong?
1) Is it wrong to want to unload a cat because he annoys you? Really...We don't like him...he smells like death, he eats puke (eeekkk), he CRIES at all hours of the night for no reason and he is deeply deeply stupid.
I mean, you cant get rid of your kid if you just don't like it so does the same apply to pets?
2)Is it wrong, when putting your baby to bed, to consider not pulling her arms through her onezie and calling that a swaddle? This child has never met a swaddle blanket, mechanism or technique she could not best. So why not just remove her arms entirely from the equation by forgetting to put them through the sleeves. Logical right?
3) Is it wrong that you totally ignored a minor fender bender that happened right next to you in a parking lot? There were extenuating circumstances...the babe was starving, you know, wasting away to nothing, kind of hungry. I had just popped her on and I hear 'Bang'. I don't think they saw me there, tinted windows and all, and they both stopped and exchanged info...but I didn't step forward with the "she did it" side of the story you know?
4) Is it wrong to feed your spouse Hot Pockets 5 out of 7 nights a week? You really have no idea where the day goes and right around the time you remember you didn't eat lunch he comes home for dinner. What else can be done??
5) Is it wrong that when gifted with two and only two Superbowl tickets that you totally forget your cousin who uses one of your season seats all year long? You forget him to the point that flights are booked and paid for and then you think..."Hey wait a minute...shouldn't one of these seats go to Ray??"
...that's just today. I could easily do this once a week.
So whats the input?
What in your life is just wrong?
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