Friday, March 6, 2009

Push me. And then just touch me, till I can get my satisfaction.

I skipped yoga yesterday to let Michael play in the backyard longer. He was having a wonderful time running laps with the dogs and anatomizing the giant pile of that used to be an anthill. After cranky baby syndrome outbreaks going around, I didn't want to risk exposing him to another bout.

He played outside most of the day. And since can see the back yard clearly from the kitchen and living room, I was able to get dishes done and work on a painting! When it's finished, I'll put it up on my website for you to stare at in awe. Then it will go to the highest bidder because you can put a price on the things you love.

I still went to Megagym and ran my butt, literally, off. It fell right onto the floor by the elliptical machines. Very embarrassing, yet satisfying that all that badonkadonk is off my backside. You know what sucks about Megagym? The extremely nice locker room that makes the finest room in my house look like a prison filled with people. I. hate.

Exhibit A: Naked Grandma

She has now gotten other grannies to join her ranks as she attacks the dressing areas with her exposed cooter. There are at least 2 other elderly women that now drop trou simultaneously to hike up the legs and apply lotion in a dasterdly strike of terrorism.

Exhibit B:) Hostile Harriet

This woman spends her day making laps in the locker room to bitch about any single thing she can about the news. And not just legitimate news! If Access Hollywood is on, you'd better prepare yourself for a threatening lecture about Octumom or Rhianna. The first time I encountered Hostile Harriet she made me feel personally responsible for the death of Kaylee Anthony. And yesterday? She bitched about her healthcare premium going "up $20 because people who are sick all the time make too many claims" and Obama came up with decent compromise. Really, lady? You can't sacrifice $20 to help someone in need? Our country was founded on democracy, that means majority rule. If you can't understand that the greater good of the country reflects your premium going up a negligible amount, not my problem.

I just put my headphones in while she was still talking. Which is why, I need my own iPod.

Dom and I share one. And he takes it to work with him most days because the gym at his work isn't as spectacular as mine that provides personal t.v.'s and such. And since I know dropping hints like "I've really enjoyed having the iPod these last couple of weeks" won't work, here goes...

I want this for my birthday...or St. Patrick's Day...or whatever excuse you want to use to get it to me...

Today's subject line quote is "Satisfaction" by Benny Benassi, the song from the stupid Wendy's commercial with the hamburgers that go up and down like a synthesizer and totally creeps me out.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

It's Thursday. Generally, this would be a post about my yoga class shenanigans because I look forward to Zenning myself out. Unfortunately, it started 18 minutes ago and I'm typing from my house. Instead you get to hear about my Wal-Mart shenanigans...again.

Last night I needed a few grocery staples, i.e. milk, turkey, underpants. Off to Wally World we go. I ate a quesadilla before packing up, Michael fed his to the dog. Unfortunately, not finishing your dinner is a trigger for Cranky Baby Syndrome.

CBS kids will often exhibit symptoms such as, but not limited to: near convulsions and a severe desire to throw things from carts, restless leg syndrome, the inability to speak under 140 decibels, pointing at strangers (especially creepy ones), belief that he or she can fly if given the opportunity to jump from the cart, an inexplicable inability to sit down or follow simple commands, and random shoe loss.

As this was a particularly difficult flare up of CBS, I had to cut my shopping short. Of course, not before realizing that he had lost a shoe somewhere from the parking lot to the middle of the frozen foods section. And it hadn't been a straight trip from A to B. As I forcing my toddler into the seat of the cart and retracing my steps to locate his missing sandal, I noticed a man in uniform running up to me yelling "Ma'am! Ma'am!"

Great, the cops have come to seize Michael. I guess my constant screaming of "SIT DOWN!" and shoving him back onto his bum might have been construed as "child endangerment." And the guilt of not purchasing eyeshadow last week was nearly giving me turrets because I was severely fighting "I stole stuff!" from escaping my mouth. Which must have been all over my face because he had a confused look himself.

"Your shoe is up at customer service. I found it and gave it to them. Been looking everywhere for you."

Turns out, he was just a nice guy trying to help me out. I think I thanked him. Things become a big whirl of what the fuck when you're about to faint. Shoe recovered, all is well.

Or it would be except for the Banshee in my cart squealing for a banana like he wants to mate with it. I think it was that point that the man with no teeth asked if I wanted to sell Michael to him. I said "Oh no, sometimes it feels like it...but no."

Everyone looked at me with big, pitiful eyes from the produce section up to the checkout stand. Even the cashier said, "You look like you're deep in thought." I guess I was because it startled me. That, or I'm not used to cashiers acknowledging that I have arrived in their presence. I just looked at him and said "I'm definitely somewhere" with a hint of stress and whatever dignity I had left in my voice.

Then Michael threw the package of underwear I had just bought onto the ground of the parking lot and continued screaming until I gave him half a banana in the car.

Today's subject line quote is Narrator, "Fight Club" (1999).

Monday, March 2, 2009

Yeah, kharma's a bitch. Hey, um, is anyone curious as to HOW he got in there?

So...I was going to post this yesterday but it turned out to be a challenging day and I didn't get a chance to. So ignore all the present tense or just imagine that this is yesterday...

I want a day off. As a mom, I work 24 freakin' 7 because even when the offspring is sleeping, I'm dreaming about having to rescue him from falling into a vat of molten poison...that he then drinks. I want a day off. As a "Navy Wife," I just put in overtime at my underpaid job as a stay-at-homer.

No, I don't need a day off and this is not me being stressed out over having to change 1,932,847,893,274,347 diapers per day. This is more about justice. I want equality. Everyone else hates their craptastic jobs on days just as much as me (though you guys probably don't get the pleasure of watching a toddler chase our asshole cat around the kitchen while screaming at a barely audible octave). I actually like spending time with Michael and the hubs is a fantastic guy. This isn't about that. This is about order being trumped by chaos, as usual.

I preplanned this day off. I went to bed at 8:30 last night. I also set my alarm for 6:00. I did all of this to ensure a shower before the munchkin woke up and we would be ready to go to the daycare program at Megagym by 9:00.

Because my dogs wanted luxuries like food and peeing outside in the 40 degree weather, it didn't happen that way. Michael woke up at 6:15 instead of 7:30. There was no showering until the first nap and by the time he woke up, it just wasn't worth dropping him off for an hour of "me" time.

I ended up taking him to Wal-Mart with me. BAD IDEA. The kid was trying to escape the shopping cart like he was attempting to flee a beating. Which, by the way, it looks like I have been punching him because of all the bruises he's acquired from tripping so much. He even tripped on a hanger in the dressing room as I was trying to smash my boobs into a workout top for yoga.

Then I picked up some sodas off the shelf and knocked over another 12 pack right onto the floor. It exploded, I got sprayed in the face with Diet Rite. Kharma much? The last time I was there I "deftly aquired" some eyeshadow, remember?

Ready for the kicker? The night before I ran out of soda and ordered a pizza just to have them deliver me a 2 liter of Diet Coke and I wouldn't have to endure a trip out like this. Except the delivery guy didn't show up with my drink, and I had to wait an hour for him to return guessed it...Regular Pepsi.

Okay Universe, you've had your fun. Now give me a break.

Today's subject line quote is Sherrif Jack Carter, "Eureka" (2006) {Family Reunion (#2.7)}.


Follow me. I might lead you somewhere you haven't been.