Archive for the ‘hell if i know’ Category

as the beginning of july creeps up on me (not you… me), i feel an overwhelming sense of list-making coming on and covering me like a blanket… a wet blanket… a wet wool blanket covering my head and draping down my body so heavily that it’s hard to keep my head up because my neck hurts.

and, it’s potentially suffocating.

the lesson here: don’t ever play hide-and-seek and hide under a wet wool blanket. you will die.

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we have eleventy weddings to attend in 7 weeks.

translation: “eleventy” is the numerical equivalent to 4.

2 of the eleventy are long-distance-travel-worthy, requiring airfare… and not just for paul and i, but now, because the magoo is 2, he is deserving of his own plane ticket to be dropped off at the grandparents’ nests of spoiling and cuddling and getting whateverthehell he wants.

kid needs to get a job.

2 of the eleventy weddings are driving distance.

nevertheless, we have 4 weddings within 7 weeks. i’m just hoping a funeral isn’t thrown in the mix.

shit, i just jinxed myself and now need to call everyone i know to make sure they’re still alive.

neither paul nor i are in any of these eleventy weddings, so that saves the cost of a bridesmaids dress, multiple shower gifts, etc.

BONUS!

don’t get me wrong, we love… like MEGA love all of our peoples who are choosing to rock their worlds with this marriage thing.

i’m totally crossing my fingers behind my back right now and giggling.

seriously, we do love them all… dearly.

but marriage is hard.

marriage has like eleventy components to it, and in the almost six years that i’ve been married, i have yet to identify what the majority of the eleventy even are.

so i’m screwed.

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i hope there isn’t a test i’m scheduled to take at some point in time during my marriage in which i have to identify all eleventy components that make up a successful marriage.

i just won’t show up on exam day.

crap, what if exam day is one of the days of one of the eleventy weddings?

adding “number 2 pencils” to shopping list…

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also on my list: a new pair of spanx… the full-body kind.

otherwise known as Persons Unknown…

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me: HURRY!!! it’s the summer-time version of LOST.

paul: (((hurrying))) ok, it’s back on.

me: SMOKE MONSTER!!!!

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me: “just SHUT UP you former psycho patient who claimed to be a shrink 2 episodes ago.”

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me: “is this a flash sideways?”

paul: “no. that’s the actual reporter.”

me: “oh… well, i’m so glad hot blonde chick is kicking the fat car salesman’s ass right now. that was way overdue.”

paul: “yeah, he’s a douche.”

me: “hey!!!!!!! it’s the ship!!!!!!!!!!” (a helicopter, but same idea… sort of.)

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*unknown package drops from helicopter. canisters are empty, except for two.*

me: “who has gas masks?”

paul: “i dunno. i don’t even know this show well enough to know the characters names.”

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me: “so, did he kill his wife?”

paul: “that’s what the video showed.”

me: “that’s the dude from speed, ya know… on the bus…”

paul: “that’s also cameron… from ferris bueller’s day off.”

me: “yeah, well, he’s a killer now.”

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me: “is that dharma initiative beer? or is that coke?

paul: “i don’t know.”

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(((SMOKE MONSTER)))

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me: “time to take the dog out and go to bed?”

paul: “well yeah. i mean… we won’t miss anything.”

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me: “this is all about BIG BROTHER, isn’t it?”

paul: “i dunno.”

me: “IT’S YOUR JOB TO SAY ‘I DUNNO.’”

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(((piano playing by ex-psycho patient)))

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me: “oh no. that can’t be good.”

paul: “WHUUUUUUT?!?!?!”

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me: “i wonder what flavor it is?”

paul: “well it was obvious that was the next thing coming.”

me: “what?!”

paul: “the flavor of the ice cream.”

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paul: “why are they wearing raincoats?”

me: “does someone die? cuz otherwise, i really wanna go to bed.”

i hate 2 years old… the age. 2.

not my kid who is 2 and some change. i don’t hate him… i hate his current age.

and yes, when i say “hate,” i mean HATE. LOATHE. DISTAIN.

i hear that 3 is worse than 2… 4 is worse than 3… 5 is worse than 4, etc.

so ultimately, you people are telling me i’m screwed.

super.

thanks.

starting to think i made the wrong decision in having my IUD removed.

there are bruises on my body from where my son pummels into me as though he’s a friggin running back for the NFL. there are scratches from where he’s broken my skin while clawing at my face because he doesn’t want to go down for a nap. my iphone is THIS CLOSE to being entirely busted and the screen of my macbook has more footprints on it than i can count. there are pinch marks, slaps and the very rare teeth mark on my arms from when he chooses to bite me because i have not given him fruit snacks for breakfast…

or a popsicle.

FOR BREAKFAST.

today, i want to give up.

there, i said it.

i’ve done the dishes, taken care of jackson, read to jackson, played with jackson, fed him breakfast and lunch, changed however many diapers (i really need to get on the potty-training train b/c we go thru too many damn diapers), swiffered up an amount of dog hair that makes me gag, run errands b/c jackson was driving me crazy and i figured the next best thing would be to literally drive in the hopes of calming down his crazy… and i’ve done 2 loads of laundry.

it’s 1:13 pm.

my nemesis is currently down for a nap but has been sleeping for MAYBE an hour + which is NOT typical for him and i’m selfish ya’ll.

I NEED THOSE 2 HOURS.

i need them so that i can endure the remainder of the day… the whining, the pouting, the unsatisfactory groans he spews my way when i think he’s asking for one toy when he really wants something entirely different… the fighting to get him to eat SOMETHING that perhaps contains a bit of protein.

when i began today, my mantra was “just make it to wednesday…”

because wednesday i road trip it to NYC with some blog friends to meet up with another blog friend to go to a taping of the daily show with jon stewart.

and yeah, i’m stoked about the trip, which is why my mantra this morning was, “just make it to wednesday…”

but i gotta be honest, right now, my mantra is “just make it til daddy comes home from work.”

and as sick and twisted as it sounds, i have caught myself at times today, with a sly, devilish grin on my face when i think of what paul’s day will be like on wednesday.

jackson… JACKSON for the day… the WHOLE day… morning til whenever i get back… just him and the maniac magoo and laundry and tantrums and dog hair and dishes and dinner on the table when i return…

IF i return.

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bring on the RANTS. give me your best bitching & let’s bond over this bullshit.

upon checking my inbox this morning, i came across an email from an ad agency (which shall remain nameless) making me aware that williams sonoma inc., owner of pottery barn and PBteen, requests that i remove their ad for bedding by pottery barn kids from my sidebar due to the content of the other ads that are currently running (and will continue to run) on my sidebar.

i emailed back, making the agency aware that my webmaster will remove the link as soon as possible. i added in this email that i couldn’t help but laugh at how ludicrous a situation this was, but, no harm no foul. the ad will be removed.

having that text ad was literally “pocket change,” so this was never about the money… though i now fully intend on using that $30 on wine, thankyouverymuch.

once i had a chance to marinate on this, it dawned on me that this action, asking me to remove their ad due to my content was perhaps… insulting?

the feminist in me kicked in… i began to wonder “what would betty say” about this debacle? “what would gloria do” with this tasty information?

the ad agency and i have emailed back and forth for a good part of this morning. the representative of the ad agency who initiated the pitch was profusely apologetic and cordial. i emailed back, making it clear that i found no fault with their agency, but was extremely curious about williams sonoma (as the agency’s client) and what this request of theirs meant for myself and for my readers (mainly women, mainly mothers).

dudes, i’m not discounting you. ladies without kidlets, i’m not discounting you either. i’m calling it what it is and it, my blog, is a mom blog. there, i said it… begin casting your stones.

i emailed the ad agency numerous questions…

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do these “certain words” that are “not to be associated with their brand” include “rape”?? i am an (almost) 10 year survivor and discuss sexual assault frequently on my blog.

do these “certain words” include “alcohol”?? because i really enjoy my wine, have written wine reviews, and discuss that on my blog as well.

and what about expletives? i drop a curse word in nearly every one of my posts.

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suffice to say, i have come to my own conclusions about what has taken place today… these conclusions are mine and mine alone and do not represent the ad agency that originally contacted me.

it is my personal belief that williams sonoma inc. is neglecting the fact that mothers are sexual beings. guess what? moms buy sex toys. some of these same women also buy children’s bedding from your store.

where on earth do you think children come from? let me answer that for you… SEX!!!!!!!

it is also my personal belief that williams sonoma inc. is negligent in educating themselves on the bloggers they pitch to… case in point, me. this is why i do not blame the ad agency. i believe the agency was the middle-person in all of this and that it is the responsibility of the company who is desiring ad space to be aware of the content of the blogger they are pitching to.

in all honesty, i don’t give two shits about my ad space. the two ads i currently run belong to two amazing women who have befriended me and i am proud to support their companies and their work.

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in the last hour, i took a quick twitter poll and asked the following question…

within seconds i received A LOT of responses, some of my faves including…

i then summed things up with the following tweet…

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according to my webmaster and dear friend who runs the same ads on her blog that i do, “you totally should write a post on ‘advertisers knowing their audience’ and how not all mommy blogger are created equal – some of us give better blowjobs.“

so basically that is what this all boils down to, i suppose.

that, and williams sonoma inc. needs to realize that it is currently 2010… people buy sex toys AND some of these people are parents.

now please excuse me while i go into the kitchen and bake some cookies while wearing my williams sonoma apron… and nothing else.

 

UPDATE 1: holy cripes ya’ll… treat yourselves…

THANKS TO THE EVER-SO-AWESOME @maniacalmom for this kickass discount!!!

also, make sure to check out the latest BlogherAtHome post and enter to win a basket of goodies from the uber generous @maniacalmom.

(why do i feel like so many will be starting a collection of toys, if not adding their already existing one??? enjoy!!!)

 

UPDATE 2: thanks to my fantastic sponsor @nipplecharms!!!

ladies what are you waiting for? go! shop! then… well, you know what to do.

ok, so i’m on the porch of my friend’s new home, facing the water, sipping coffee… and sweating like a pig because they are still getting air conditioners installed. it’s a GREAT home and totally reminded me of our home in jacksonville that i miss so desperately. i think i love this home and i’m so excited for my friend because i know she will truly make it THEIR HOME.

our first house was a train wreck when we moved in it. seriously, it looked as though a train had wrecked inside of the house. paul thought i was nuts (duh!!!) and i was all “oh look at the potential… we could paint this… and knock out this wall… and landscape here…” and paul was all ::WONKY EYE:: “are you fucking kidding me?!?” but over time, we made it our own and redid every single room.

so, i’m on my friend’s porch, dripping with under-the-boob-sweat, and our little men are playing together and scaring the family cat and my friend and i start discussing potty training. her little boy is 2 and some change and jackson just turned 2 at the end of april and apparently once you hit the 2 year mark, you start talking potty shit.

we’re not “training” like reading books and going sans diaper and sticker charting and big boy underpants, yet… jackson has a potty that he likes and he sits on it when either paul or i are on our toilet. jackson LOVES to give you toilet paper and LOVES to flush. cuz ya know, that’s a very satisfying feeling, to flush the toilet and watch the contents go down the drain.

my friend’s potty “training” is similar as of now, and this summer, she plans to tackle it a little more strategically. so yay for that.

at this point in our convo, she tells me that she has a friend who potty trained her 18 month old. cool. groovy. major props. i couldn’t do it… but i applaud you, my friend’s friend.

she then asks me the question that caused me to nearly drop my coffee cup…

“have you heard of those moms who potty train their infants? like their baby-babies?”

my silence and eyes popping out of my sockets cued her to continue… and she told me of someone she knew who had informed her of how she had her baby (BABY) potty trained at 4 months of age.

WHUT THE WHUT WHUT?!?!??!

my friend, not at all surprised by my surprise, goes into explicit yet informative detail about how her friend had picked up on cues and facial expressions her baby would make that were indicative of an oncoming bowel movement.

ok, i’m with ya… nodding head… recalling jackson’s scrunched up face and grunts…

my friend then tells me that after witnessing those cues from her baby, the mother then held her 4 month old over the toilet and that was how the child was potty trained.

WHUT THE WHUT WHUT?!!?!

so THEN my friend tells me that after her friend relayed this info to her, she started looking info up and found out that blossom… you remember blossom… the tv show… teenage chick who wore the denim hat with the big ass flower on it all the time… had a best friend named six… ok, i’m getting off track. ok, well, blossom apparently did this with her baby(ies) i don’t know how many children blossom has… AND since no underwear is made to fit infants (BECAUSE THEY’RE USUALLY IN DIAPERS) she made loin cloths for her baby(ies) in lieu of underwear.

alright, so if blossom can do this, i’m totally trying it out with our next kid, because then i figure by the time that kid is crawling, having been totally potty trained by 4 months of age via loin cloth underwear, i can train him/her to uncork a bottle of wine… or at the very least, start the coffee brewing in the early morning hours.

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ALSO… head over to BlogherAtHome for a chance to win a SIGNED COPY of Aidan Donnelley Rowley‘s brand spankin new novel, Life After Yes. In other words, click YES… YES… or HELL YES to enter.

funny thing just happened… i was brought back to high school via email. i’m on the email list for our graduating class (i say “our” because paul and i went to high school together, incase you didn’t already know that.)

why am i on this list? i dunno.

how did my high school get my contact info? i dunno.

what do i typically do when i see these emails in my inbox? click “delete” and move on.

this morning, however, i received an email from a former high school classmate about my blog.

the first thing that went through my mind was “oh shit, i’ve offended someone with my language, my tattoos, my liberal, hippie-loving, cheap wine-drinking self.”

instead of hitting “delete,” i read the email. and read sweet words from someone i have not been in contact with for YEARS. like LONG ASS YEARS.

it’s funny when i think about who may be out there reading this blog, finding out about my blog from my facebook page, following me on twitter, etc… (enter your social networking site of choice here) that i don’t know about.

my webmaster can attest to the fact that i know NOTHING when it comes to tracking anything in terms of numbers on my blog… i don’t know my stats. i don’t track who reads about my insanity, subscribes to my RSS feed.

i don’t even know what a damn RSS feed is… except that it doesn’t sound edible.

what i now know is that people actually read this.

people read my words, and some *GASP* actually enjoy reading my words.

AND to top it all off, some of these people who are reading my words, i know… like in real life.

i have a history with some of these people. hell, i’ve made out with some of these people.

shut up, paul, so have you!!! i just made out with more.

it’s just funny… this epiphany that probably should’ve dawned on me a helluva long time ago, when i went public with my blog and started truly pursuing my writing career. i should’ve realized then that the words i write will be seen by people, including people who know/knew me.

but the vast majority of my readership who comment are people that i don’t “know.” i mean, we “know” each other via blogs, etc… but we haven’t made out… yet.

shut up, paul, i’m joking.

::wink::

in addition to this awesome high school-esque revelation, on this day that i received the email i mentioned above, my chin decided to break out in all kinds of pimply goodness.

apparently my post-sperminator, IUD extraction hormones are finally figuring out that they have been freed.

so yay for me… for acne… for growing the hell up and then being taken back to your teens in the blink of an eye.

and thanks… for reading… and letting me know. that’s kinda badass.