Thursday, March 26, 2009

The ornaments were yanked from the tree with despair, while dad vacuumed pine needles from his rump.

I'm having internet this is actually the entry intended for March 26:

Friends are the family you choose and family is the family you endure for the sake of good blogging material after major holidays. However, I lucked out when the heavens assigned me to my dad. He's about the coolest dad I could have ended up with. And since today marks the 55th anniversary of him popping out of my grandma, my readers get An Ode to my Dad.

He's often regarded as a quiet man. When he does speak, it's frequently profound or simply hilarious. When on vacation in Orlando, we rode the "Earthquake" ride that ends with a flaming propane tank exploding next to the fake subway car. My dad, who was sitting on the outside of the car and had been front and center for the firey blaze, turned to the rest of our family and quietly said, "Well I forgot to wear my SPF 5000." He's very much like the classic Winnie the Pooh, in his short and very matter-of-fact statements such as "Oh, just a small helping of honey...well perhaps a bit larger of a small portion."
This secretly thrilled me growing up because it scared the holy crapolas out of boys coming to court me. See, teenage boys don't like a silent father figure because there is a fear in the unknown. There was no way to tell if they were liked or likeable. Was there even hope for them to charm their way in to my father's good graces? Even I couldn't tell. But it did make me rest easy that I wouldn't be hassled or treated like anything other than the lady I was, because my dad would probably run them over with the GMC Jimmy parked in the driveway. Quietly. They'd never hear it coming.

And even though I may sing his praises on the blog one day out of the year, I think about him constantly. I'm lucky. Because my son is a blonde toddler version of my dad's image, I am always reminded of how much I love both of them.

It makes me recount my days still living with my parents and sharing all of our favorite snacks that made my mom want to gag, like cottage cheese or crackers and milk. It was something that I had solely with him. And it made me feel special knowing that I was the only person in the world that got to sit in his lap after he came home from work.

Since he’s a quiet guy, I may talk to my mom on the phone more--but I still feel just as connected to my dad. I really hope that Michael will get to share some of those bonding experiences with me and his "Pops" when he's older.

Today's subject line quote is Big Pete Wrigley, "The Adventures of Pete and Pete" (1993).

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

See, this is another sign of your tragic space dementia, all paranoid and crotchety. Breaks the heart.

A plea to my laundry:

Um, laundry? Why do you have to be such a punkass bitch? I've got an inspection of this renthouse on Saturday and you're just lying there on my couch like a lazy pile of clothes. Go fold yourself! Make yourself useful. Get a job so I can hire a maid, watch my kid while I take a shower, or just make me some more coffee so I can clean this place up on my own!

Every day I have to see you crumpled up in a heap, mocking me with your lifelessness until one of the umpteen toddler shirts rolls onto the floor and I'm forced to pick THAT up too. You disgust me. I'm going to set you on fire and buy new clothes.

A plea to my hair:

Please stop doing that wavey, kinky, swirl thing. It's not cute. Now I have to spend the time I need to fold the good-for-nothing laundry drying and styling you because I'm a superficial and petty diva who wants to be judged by her social ineptitude rather than bad hair.

A plea to my stomach:

Quit whining. There's an enchilada in the fridge.

A plea to the enchilada in the fridge:

Please don't make me fat. If I have to eat any more grilled sandwiches with fat free cheese and light bread that falls apart when you butter it with SmartBalance Lite margarine, I'm gonna set the laundry on fire.

Today's subject line quote is Mal, "Firefly" (2002) {The Train Job (#1.1)}.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Then I'm afraid the fever has reached your brain and you'll have to be destroyed.

I've caught something that's been going around and I have now given it to my husband. I'm not talking about the stomach bug that's been causing major barfage--though, I may have that as well.

This is much more serious. It's epidemic that inevitably keeps society going and growing. I've got the fever people! Baby Fever.

From a statistical standpoint, it was an inevitability. I first contracted it back in 2006 after being exposed to Meredith's first round. Once you've had the fever, you're far more likely to develop symptoms in the future--especially after being in close contact of mothers with multiple or small children.

There is no set "cure" for Baby Fever. After the initial exposure, the fever will either burn itself out or develop into a much more serious condition which eventually leads to the removal of a large growth from the uterus.

Luckily, there are precautions that can be taken to prevent the growth from gestating often known in common vernacular as "birth control." It will not treat the fever, but does give the affected patient time to assess the sickness and prepare for the onset of symptoms.

Symptoms that develop in Stage 1: Pre-growth Fever

uncontrollable verbal skills near infants that cause the patient to involuntarily say "awwww," sporadic bouts of crying near children, young and fluffy animals, and Pampers commercials, illusions of grandeur that allow the affected to believe they can withstand extended periods of time without sleep, a compelling need to spread the fever to your significant other

Symptoms that develop in Stage 2: Growth Inutero

extreme irritability, incessable hunger leading to the expulsion of the patient from all-you-can-eat buffets, vomitus maximus, back pain, knee pain, foot pain, neck pain, vagina pain, a magnetic force around your belly that pulls in old ladies to touch it, sensitivity to stupid people

And those are just the ailments that occur in women who contract Baby Fever. So what happens when men, like Dominic, are affected? They gain 20 lbs. after sympathetically craving sushi and ribs for 9 months.

We haven't moved from Stage 1 yet, so with some home remedy treatments (exposing ourselves to ill-mannered, screaming toddlers and taking vacations without children) we might beat this thing before it becomes much more serious.

Today's subject line quote is Daria, "Daria" (1997) {The Teachings of Don Jake (#1.12)}.


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