Saturday, November 2, 2013

Public Enemy Number 1

If you have been following this blog at all, then you know I'm not really "allowed" out in public alone (according to my husband).  He probably would prefer it if I stayed home altogether, and spared the general public any type of interaction with me and my crazy ideas.  Alas, I make my escape and subject innocent passer-bys to my every whim.  (Well, not every, as I do manage to hold onto a shred of self control.)

I don't see it as such a problem.  I'm really just doing the world a favor.  I'm like a superhero, or a saint of sorts.  I'm saving people from excitement-free, boring days.  And I do it for free.  Here's what I've been up to this week...

I really enjoy volunteering for my son's school.  I run 2 LEGO teams, I help out with office work, and I'm going to be a story teller... and I spare them all my brand of "fun".  They recently asked for volunteers to teach interest learning classes, and that's where I figured I probably should draw the line.  If you look back over past posts, you will see what my interests are, and they are probably best not shared with kids.  However, I could teach some Mommy Interest Learning classes.... "Johnny Depp 101", "Mommy Martinis: Not Just For Breakfast Anymore", "Shopping with Animals Kids", the possibilities are endless.

Halloween was earlier this week, and, in the spirit of the day, I dressed up.  (Yes, perhaps it was mostly just dressing up as myself, but the hat was probably teenier than expected). 

Am I a good witch, or a bad witch?

I went out to Starbucks, with some other mommies from my son's school, dressed up in this little get-up.  The employees were dressed up as well, but most of the customers were not.  A man came in wearing his service uniform, and I, forgetting for a moment how I was dressed, paid for his coffee.  It was AFTER I paid when he struck up a little conversation...

Soldier Oh, thank you, but this is just a Halloween costume.

Me Oh that's a dirty trick.  I didn't even think of that.  See, this is MY uniform.

Soldier I'm just kidding.  *wink*

Me I'm not! *wink*

* For the record, it was obviously not a costume, as the man took his hat off when he entered the building.  That is not something I'd expect from someone dressed up in a costume.  ;)  It was fun, however, that he is also a super hero with the power of warding off boring days with a good sense of humor.

** Interesting side note, on the drive home I discovered that a tiny witches hat cancels out the middle finger. 


Today we ventured out to the grocery store.  It is nearly an hour away from our home (as we prefer this one to ANY of the ones in our actual town), so I suppose the people there were unaware that being rude only encourages me.  (Probably all the folks here have found that out, at least any of them that would be rude to strangers, anyway.)  We were standing in the frozen food section, trying to find the shoestring french fries, when my oldest opens the freezer, peeks in, closes the door and we hear the most annoyed, and meanest "Excuse me!" as this woman angrily pushes past my toddler, huffily pulls her shirt down over her hand before she grabs and flings open the freezer door, then proceeds to just stare in there, looking for what she wants.  Now, we had not been holding her up, she had just come up behind us, then acted as if we were blocking her and proceeded to block us while also looking for frozen potato products, just as we were.  Oh, and in case you missed it, she protected herself from my oldest's "cooties" in the process.  The kids were not misbehaving, being loud, being spazzy, or snotting all over the place OR licking the freezer door handle.  There was nothing to set her off, except her own attitude problem.  So, naturally my "Oh PLEASE, by all MEANS, I wouldn't want to stand in your way.  Move, darlings, she needs to get to the *AAAAHHHHCHOOOOOO! (Yes, a fake sneeze on the back of her head)*  tater tots!  *loud sucking snot back through my nose sound*  Uh, I really need to get this checked."  And as she backed away, and I could tell she was no longer interested in those delicious tots, I told the kids "Okay, children, we may resume our grocery shopping!"  As she turned to glare at me, and the enormous mega-watt grin spread over my face, and I beauty-queen waved goodbye, my husband looked at me like "What just happened?"  All I could say to him was "Those must've been some important f&%kin' fries."  And he shook his head as the kids triumphantly held up their chosen potato products & tossed them in the cart.  My guess is that woman kept her bad attitude to herself the rest of the day, not wanting to interact with any more of us "crazies".  You're welcome, to all of those she probably would've been rude to, if I hadn't scared that outta her.  If my kids had been being wild, or we had been standing shoulder to shoulder for more than 5 whole seconds, actually blocking the food, just chit chatting, perhaps some annoyance would have been called for, but none of that was going on.  If grocery shopping makes you that angry, try Pea Pod.  For real.  Save us from your scowling face.

On a kind of unrelated note, I had planned to make this blog post another "fashion" post.  My friend, Amy, did her fashion blog entry of the week about mixing prints.  Something I had suggested to her as a challenge (just because I had the inside info that mixing prints is something she's a smidge wary over... which is surprising.  I mean she is friends with me, so you'd think nothing would be intimidating.  We know I'm not for the faint of heart.)  ;)  Anyway, I thought I'd throw in my two cents out of solidarity, and had my husband photograph me with my mixed-print shout out to Amy.  I happened to notice the expression on my face is eerily similar to the one of me in the witch get-up.  So, perhaps if you see me in public, and my face looks like this, run!  Save yourselves.  (And most certainly, don't be rude!)

The wind was blowing whisps of hair into my face, and the camera captured the moment & my reaction.
I'll end with my own personal rules about mixing prints.  There is really only 1....

1. Everybody be cool!

Play it cool & pull it off. If you are unsure of what you are putting together, or feel weird about how it looks, do not wear it.  People will smell your fear.  haha  If you put something on (in my case here it is a flower and polka dot print *yes, print mixing all in one shirt!* paired with the skull scarf), and you love it, it works.  If you are confident, you can pull it off.  Even if someone else is unsure, they may start to doubt themselves when they see you rocking it like you have never been more sure that two things went together than you are at that very moment.  Even someone wearing a basic solid shirt and jeans can look ridiculous if their expression is uneasy, and their body language says they are uncomfortable... or if they are shouting at strangers in a grocery store and physically pushing past the cutest toddler on earth.  At that point, it doesn't matter what you wear, you are not pulling it off.  So, everybody be cool!

And, no, this did not end up really being a fashion post, thanks to that picture giving me a completely different idea.  :)  Maybe next time.

Monday, October 21, 2013

My spirit animal is a clothes horse...

My friend, Amy, with whom I frequently discuss all things beautiful clothes, told me I should start sharing some of my fashion brain children (although, not in those particular, slightly bizarre words) on my blog.  Probably because our idea of a good time is going through clothes, pairing things up, giving each other heads up about killer sales, finding ways to incorporate sparkles... you get the picture.  So my husband (whom would probably rather me stay away from this topic, as it could trigger a shopping frenzy), was kind enough to snap some shots of me in the number one outfit I get stopped on the street about.  I do love this one, and it never fails to get some attention (whether I want it or not).  I have had women ask me about the blazer, the frilly blouse, the ring, the shoes, and the purse. From Battery Park to our local agricultural center, women dig this outfit. 

I would say it has always gotten rave reviews, but then there is my friend, David, whom asked if I skinned a zebra for the blazer.  (Thanks, buddy.)  So, what do you think?  I love it because it is not at all boring, it is very comfortable, and it is suitable for so many different events.  Also, just for my friend, Amy, it involves pairing up different patterns, which I like to do.  What fashion risks are you willing to take?  Which ones intimidate you?  I already mentioned I enjoy pushing the envelope with mixing patterns from time to time, but the thing that intimidates me are cap sleeves!  I think they are so hard to pull off.  Now it's your turn....  In the meantime, here's my never-fail conversation starter...

I get to put on pretty clothes, and my husband gets to try to be artsy with the camera.

These are some of my favorite shoes.  I love the red embellishment with a black and white outfit.


This ring is always fun.  I have worn it with my favorite graphic t-shirt, and my beloved LBD. 

I like to have fun with my clothes.  I don't want to give out my unsolicited advice, because I have very few set rules (note the "set" part, because I do have floating rules, for sure!) when it comes to what you wear, as long as it fits you & is clean & event appropriate, but I thought it would be fun to start a little fashion dialogue & see what us regular folks are doing with clothes, and not just what they are telling us we SHOULD do with our clothes in the magazines.  This may end in just Amy and I talking about clothes again, but that's okay, too!  :)

Monday, October 14, 2013

Things I have learned from Vine.

Recently I decided to check out Vine, and see what it was about.  I had stayed away from it for a long time, wondering what you could possibly do with 6 seconds, and deciding the answer was "nothing."  I know, jumping to conclusions.  It's out of character for me, but my time is limited so I decided it probably wasn't worth me checking out.  A few weeks ago, vines started popping up that I could not see since I didn't have a vine.  Finally I thought I better check it out, and see why these videos kept surfacing.  I'm so glad I did.  You have no idea what people can pack into 6 seconds!  I laugh so hard at these things, that I do not even realize it has gone from 10:00 pm to 2:00am.  Not only have I been entertained by these little gems, I have learned quite a lot, too.  I figured I'd share some of my new knowledge with all of you.

Things I have learned from Vine

1. Girls everywhere are waking up first thing in the morning with impeccable faces and hair.  They yawn, stretch, and talk in a low gritty voice as they let you know they just woke up, batting those long, false eyelashes from the comfort of their bed.  They must have little birds and mice putting their make-up on and brushing their hair just before they wake.  I bet they don't have morning breath, either.  I kind of hate them for it.

2. No one cares about The Haterzzzz!  If you'd judge based on the number of vines related to telling The Haterzzzz that the viners did NOT care about what mean comments they are leaving on their vines, you'd think they were extremely concerned, but alas, they don't care and you can f&%k off.  

3. There is such a thing as "Grind On Me" videos.  This is where boys (often in the throes of puberty) elaborately hump the floor.  Or the bed.  Or the car.  Or their race car bed.  Or their mother's tears of shame.  

4. Related to number 3, above, apparently tall socks are now a vital part of "sexy times".  Between the failures to wake up looking like a supermodel and my bare feet, I am seriously doing it wrong. They should probably revoke my lady license.  

5. The term "muscle nugget", surprisingly unrelated to numbers 3 & 4.

6. Grandmas and Grandpas are more than happy to curse in your videos for you.  Like, perhaps a little too eager.  I mean, really, everyone is a descendant of sailors.   I wouldn't leave any mean comments, Haterzzzz, Grammy will kick your ass.

7. Batman, as it turns out.... total yuppie.

8. Jumping into other people's grocery carts is acceptable.  As a matter of fact, it's encouraged.  I'm keeping my eggs in the kiddie seat, to be safe.

9. Teen girls are now "thirsty" and , apparently "boss ass bitch"es.  I'm not sure why they are so thirsty in today's world with all the bottled water and such, but that doesn't bother me nearly as much as not knowing what a "boss ass" is.  I don't think I want to be any kind of an "ass bitch".  That just sounds super unpleasant.  

10.  You can be "turned up".  Or "Turn it up" or "Turnt up."  I'm not sure, exactly, what the terminology is, as the spelling on vine is pretty hit or miss.  However, it is possible this has something to do with what we used to call "innies" and "outties" in my day.  Or, maybe they are just advertising that their vine is loud enough for those swearing grannies and grampies to hear and enjoy.  

11. Ducklings, who are trying not to fall asleep, are so cute you will want to hurt yourself.

12.  And, finally, never get in a viners "shot".  They will seriously punch you in the nose, light you on fire, and stab you in your left big toe.  So get the f&%K out of pappy's shot... he's about to dive into a "Grind On Me" vine (and shut up Haterzzzz, cause he don't give a shit what you think about it.  He's a boss ass bitch.)

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Don't rain on my parade!

Who's up for a New York City weekend wrap up?  No?  Me neither... I'd rather still be there and writing this much later, alas.... here it is.

In case I have failed to mention this in any of my previous blog entries, NYC is my very favorite place in America.  (Specifically the West Village, which is my sweet little utopia).  NYC only comes second to Paris, worldwide, in my book.  And, really, it could be a tie.  We had a friend from Germany coming to stay with us for a few days, and he had never been to NYC.  He asked if we could go on up there while he was here, and, of course, we agreed.  (Twist my arm.)  My husband likes the City well enough, but what he loves about it is being with me in the City.  I know our favorite places to visit, and I always find fun new things to do.  It's always a good time (even when I pick the wrong shoes and my feet are bleeding and begging for mercy, it manages to still be wonderful).  So, I was left to plan our trip to include a great overview of the city, including many of the tourist favorites (and my husband asked me to skip The Village *grrrrrrrr* because he is insane), in a very short weekend.  Plan a good visit for a NYC virgin whom does not know when he will get back there?  Challenge accepted.

We planned to stay at the Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue.  (My husband calls me his Park Avenue Princess) 

After the fun-filled ride discussing my insistence on tipping appropriately (see Ou est les toilettes? ), "street meat" and why we don't eat it, the movie "Coming to America" (which was how our guest knew the Waldorf), arguing over which highways to take, endless conversations in German (which I don't speak much of, so that was "fun"), and then freaking out over the terrible GPS directions once we got into the city, and had to get the car to the hotel... we were there!

The hotel let us check in a bit early, and we got to our room.  Our friend noticed the floor was wet in our entryway, but we couldn't find any other problems around there, so we figured they had just cleaned a spot on the carpet.  Everything else was beautiful, and we were all in love with the view from our windows.  (We also had a corner suite, so we had views in 2 different directions, which was a big treat). 

It was off to lunch at Pret A Manger, which is our very favorite "quick lunch" location in the city, and super close to our hotel and Rockefeller Center.  Then onto Rockefeller, 5th Avenue (which meant the boys were coming into Bergdorf Goodman with me, regardless of their feelings about that), and Central Park. 

Rockefeller is always an awesome site to see, and this time we went into the Lego store.  Every nerd's retail store dream.  It made me miss our boys, who would have loved it.  :)  We loved it for them.  We also hung out at Atlas, and saw St. Patrick's , although the restoration really blocks the view of the outside of the beautiful building, so I felt bad our friend really couldn't enjoy that as it should be enjoyed.

Let's go back to Bergdorf Goodman, for a moment.  I always go shoe shopping here, when in NYC.  ALWAYS.  I do not even think it is possible for me to walk past the doors without going inside, quite frankly.  (It's that entire "there is no such thing as free will" theory... I MUST go inside, because I am who I am.)  The shoe salon was HOPPING!  I guess I don't usually go on a Friday, so maybe that was the difference, but I don't usually have to do much sharing of the shoes.  I was like a jealous girlfriend in there, but I made my way through, and got to fondle all the shoes that I wanted very much to take home.  And then HE opened his big fat mouth.  I was gushing over the SUPER CUTE new Manolo Blahnik suede "driver" , when my husband says "Hmmm, I didn't know Manolo made slippers."  Dagger eyes.  I shot him dagger eyes, as I picked up the shoes, held them, rocked them, and made sure their self esteem was still intact.  Then, I had to usher him quickly out of the store before he did any more damage.

It was then off to Central Park, where we saw The Hartland "glacier" (the large rocks near the zoo entrance, left over from looooooong ago, when glaciers were present here).  I had never climbed this formation before, so we did that, took a stroll over the footbridge nearby, and then briefly relaxed on some park benches.  Did I mention the weather was perfect?  It really was.  We took so many beautiful pictures.

 We walked around, just enjoying the sites, toy shopping at FAO Schwarz, and then went back to our hotel to clean up, and make a decision on dinner.

Here is where I pitched The Village.  My husband rolled his eyes.  "It's not exciting enough for a first time tourist.  There is nothing to see."  WTH is this kind of talk?!  Aaaaaah!  He was just being straight up blasphemous.  I argue that The Village is where the life of the City is.  It's eclectic, lined with gorgeous brownstones, filled with vibrant people to watch, and has an incredible vibe that you just cannot duplicate anywhere else.  My husband had seemed to forget that.  I explained that we wanted to take our guest to Times Square at night, as that is how one should enjoy Times Square and all it's amazing lights, but the food there was going to be more along the lines of TGIFridays and such.  My suggestion was hit up Greenwich Village, walk to The West Village, find a great place to have dinner outdoors to watch the city around us, and then make our way to the Square.  Finally, my husband agreed this made sense, our friend was already on board with anything I suggested (because he is a very smart man), and we were heading out to the subway.

Me Um, wait, Honey?  Why do you have a thermos of water?  This is Manhattan, not Six Flags.

Seriously fashion-challenged husband I might get thirsty.  

Me New York has drinks.

Him Well I want water.

Me New York has water.  As a matter of fact, that's why New York Cheesecake is supposedly so wonderful, the water here.   

Him I hate cheese.

Me The cheesecake isn't IN the water.  Look, we are going to dinner, where they will certainly have, at the very least, water.  You do not need to BYOW.  

Him But I must.

See what I have to deal with?

We made it to the West Village, where we ate outside at Olio e Piu *side note, they had water, which they immediately served us*.  Dinner was delicious, our waitress was wonderful.  Go there.  Eat, drink, be happy.  It was a gorgeous evening, perfect for eating outside, and the people watching was no let down.  It was very relaxing and fun.  When you go to NYC, you must do this.  Trust me.

We went on to Times Square, where my husband panicked because he "lost" me, because I walked ahead of them as crowds were gathering around the "naked cowboy" and "naked Indian" who were in the middle of some naked turf dispute.  Now, gentlemen, I should remind you that you are in very tiny, pretty feminine, underwear... panties essentially... and your anger towards each other's proximity is hard to take seriously.  For real, yo.

After a little shopping, some Starbucks, and some more naked people doing ridiculous things to earn a few bucks (but enough about Miley Cyrus), we were done for the night.  

The next morning we woke up in what seemed like a different part of New York... Niagara Falls.  However, upon clearing the sleep from our eyes, we realized the falls had come to us.  Our suite was raining.  Not raining, really.... pouring water.  Yes, pouring water down on our entry way, in our closet, the foyer, the doorway, the hallway outside.... Pouring, as if someone was dumping an endless bucket of water.  It smelled terrible, and we now knew why the floor had been wet.  

Note the puddles of water, water running down the walls, soaked paper... you get the picture

I called down, and told the desk it was raining water into the room, and not a little, but a ton, and they needed to send someone immediately to check on our situation.  We were getting showered and dressed and packed at lightning speed, not so sure if the ceiling wasn't about to come down on us, as more and more leaks appeared.  In one video I took, you can actually see one pop up and it look like someone has just thrown a bucket of water my direction.  Yet, no one came.  My husband went down to the desk, told them down there, and they said they'd send someone.  Still, no one came.  The neighboring guest stopped over, informed us she had already reported that room and had been moved to her current room, due to the leak.  So, now I know they put us in a room they KNEW had a major problem.  So, I called again.  

Me I'm not so sure you understand the severity of the situation. This is the 3rd time we have reported this, and we are well aware that another guest had reported this issue to you 2 days ago.  It is monsoon season in our suite. Your room is already pretty destroyed in the foyer and closet, and soon the living room and furniture are going to be a mess, as well. Oh yeah, your hallway is a pond.  I'm going to have to walk through that mess, with my luggage and cute shoes.  Someone needs to get here right now.  Immediately.  Tout de suite.  Also, we are coming down because we have no choice but to check out earlier than we intended.  I'll be bringing our soaking wet bill with us, and will be discussing THAT with you.

Then, I grabbed my giant suitcase (I was going for 2 days, so, naturally, I packed an enormous suitcase full of clothes and shoes for any circumstance that may arise), and jumped over as much of the "pond" as I could, trying to get rained on as little as possible, and came splashing down in the hallway.  My bag was like 70 lbs, so this was not my favorite thing, especially paired with the soggy landing.  I made it to the front desk, plopped the sopping wet bill down with a splash, and said "Here's the bill, which I assume this total is what the Waldorf Astoria wants to pay ME for sleeping in that smelly, wet room." 

I will say that they did comp 50% of the room fee, and give us a free future upgrade, however, they should have made $0.00 on that room, as it should have been out of service and under repair.  So, they still made money off of a room that they were fully aware should not have been occupied for what really was a safety reason.  Not awesome, Waldorf, not awesome.  This is not at all what I have come to expect from a place I love so much.  That bummed me out, but I guess we have a wild story out of the mess.  And as my friends were quick to point out, I'm probably the only person this would ever even happen to.  
The hotel kindly (or under threat from my "Crazy Eyed Angry Face") held our luggage as we headed off to The UN (which, was closed for the general assembly this week, total bummer), Wall Street, Brooklyn Bridge, Battery Park, and then we took the subway back uptown in search of Dylan's Candy Bar.  As we got off the subway, in the station there was a door to a store, which I quickly realized was Bloomingdales.  I went in, and the shopping began.  Halfway between men's and the shoe department, my husband declared "At first I thought, 'Oh she found a little store to duck into.', and now it's turning into a nightmare.  It's a Blooming-nightmare."  He bought me a gorgeous new Michael Kors purse, anyway.  And, eventually, he came to appreciate the experience and said "Well, this may actually be the best high end store you have taken me in.  I personally think it's better than Bergdorf's or Saks."  I, personally, think he doesn't really know what he's talking about, but, either way, Bloomingdales should take it as a high compliment coming from him.  

We headed out the front door, ooohed and aaaaahed over Magnolia's cupcakes, and stocked up on copious amounts of candy from Dylan's.  We ate a quick lunch outside, and we were on our way to pick up our luggage and head home.  On the way home, our guest told me his favorite part of the trip was dinner in The Village.  Yes, I felt very smug.

It was an incredibly fast, and completely wonderful weekend.  Yes, aside from the flood, and my feet really were bleeding halfway through the first day (should have brought some type of socks for those shoes...), but that cannot come close to making a smudge on my time spent with my beloved city.  She always treats me good.  She is exciting, provocative, intelligent, beautiful and a little bit loud.  If you can't see why I love her, that's okay, because I already share her with enough people. 


Friday, September 20, 2013

Ou est les toilettes?

Can I write a blog entry in the backseat of a car, partly in French (see title) on the way to NYC with 2 beautiful men speaking German in the front seat?  Let's find out!  (Yes, I have such a hard life, I know.)

As I mentioned, we are on our way to a short weekend in NYC. This is my very favorite place, only 2nd to Paris. I realized, a few minutes ago, we will arrive before check in and leave after check out, so we'll need our bags held. So, I decided to check with my husband to be sure we had tip money.

Me Hey, do you have any 5 spots? I have singles for small things, but we'll need 5's for our baggage handling needs. 

Husband (AKA Annoyed Man Driving The Car) What? No. *turns to his German friend next to him) You have to tip everyone for everything here. At least when my wife is traveling with us. Need to know where the bathroom is? That'll be 5 bucks. 

Me Well, that wouldn't be 5 dollars, though. This is how these people make a living. They live in a very expensive area, too. 

AMDTC Well, it's not MY fault they live in Manhattan. Hell, I want to live in Manhattan! No one is tipping me so I can live there. 

Me Well, maybe if you told someone where the restroom was every now & then, you'd get a tip. They may not live in NYC. They may live in Jersey, and go through that horrible commute every day to tell YOU where the toilet is. 

AMDTC Well, now you've made me feel bad for them. I mean... Jersey?

It's gonna be a long ride.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Johnny 5-Spaces

Today I'd like to share two pictures, both where something just isn't right... Let's see if you can spot the problems.

Operator 911, what's your emergency?

Motorist Story time at the library is about to begin, and there are no parking spaces!  Some car was parked by an asshole, or Mr. Magoo, and is taking up 3 spaces, all with expired meters!  Please send the police!  

 I'm like Where did all your streets go, Map?

And Map be like Where the hell are we?  I thought you were watching the streets.



Wednesday, September 11, 2013

I could have passed on worse qualities.

School is back in session!  Hopefully this means more time for Momma to spend on her blog.  It also means back to the old school days routine.  My 6 year old son is now a big ol' 1st grader (complete with his first loose tooth!), and he loves to be helpful.  He likes every opportunity to be independent, including choosing his clothes.  I HATE giving up this Momma-duty, but I just let him do it, and hope he allows me to help him out.  Last night, I realized this, perhaps, wasn't going to be so bad after all.  (Though, my husband completely disagrees.)

6: Oh Gap!  I want to wear the Gap shirt.  It'll match my Gap shoes!  Yes, this is perfect.  Now, where are some Gap pants?

Me: Baby, none of your Gap pants are clean and put away.  They are in the laundry.  

6: Mom, are you sure?  There has to be some somewhere.  Only they can match my Gap shirt.  What about these shorts?

Me: They will match.

6: Are they Gap?

Me: No, they are Children's Place.

6: Are any of these shorts Gap?

Me: Nope

6: What about these jeans?  Are they Gap?

Me: No, and also it's hot as blazes outside, so they would be miserable to wear.

6: Well, what are they?!

Me: Children's Place

6: Again!?  Why is The Children's Place trying to ruin my life?!

Immediately my husband turns to me and says: This is all you.  You did this.  This little fashion monster right here.  That's you.

I can see how my husband, who feels a deep bond with Macklemore thanks to "Thrift Shop", feels this is less than awesome.  Maybe a 6 year old does not need to worry with these things.  But, as I see it, I have way worse personality traits... I mean WAY worse... that I could have passed on.  (See probably any of the previous posts on this blog for examples.)  So the kid wants to look good!  No biggie.  It's not like he's got "road mouth", or a love of shivs, or has trouble fixing his face when witnessing pure stupidity, or leaves profanity laced voice mails on his sister's cell while she's at work, or laughs in the face of fear, sadness, or anger.  Holy cow, maybe I shouldn't be raising children.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

We Don't All Know Each Other

I am half Jewish, to try to put it simply.  Most people do not really care.  They may know, but they don't feel the need to constantly bring it up, act like I am always thinking about Israel, bring up any little fact or tidbit that has to do with the Jewish faith or culture... you get the picture.  Most people, but not this one particular person in my life, who it must REALLY bother, because they constantly bring it up.  They constantly weave it into stories or events that have, as they should, nothing to do with me being a Jew.  It is always awkward, and also fruitless, as I do not practice Judaism as a religion.  We observe some holidays and cultural traditions, but I'm not a practicing Jew. 

Anywho, today I got an email that was just pure gold.  It is so important to this person to mention that I'm Jewish or remind me of Jews that he forces the topic into places it really has no business.  It seems almost frantic.  I have yet to figure out any other explanation, other than maybe he wants to convey "Hey, I'm totally down with the Jews!"  I'm not sure.  It's far less important to me than it is to him, though.  So, this man sends me an email this morning, in regards to a pig roast my husband and I attended yesterday.  It said:

So how did the (pig) roast go?  Kinda reminds me of ancient Jewish get togethers.

First of all, even if you ignore the non-ancient in-ground pool, beer, and total lack of Jews (aside from myself), it was a PIG roast.  But, technically, yes, people gathered together, just as many ancient peoples, not limited to Jews, did. So aside from it being inappropriately added to this conversation, it was waaaaaaaaaaay off base. He must've missed "Jews 101", as my sister calls it.  "Christians believe in Jesus, and Jews don't eat pork."
I was obligated to respond, as he asked how it went... so I tried to go easy on him, but I am what I am, and couldn't fully help myself.

The pig roast was a lot of fun.  Interesting note: Jews don't eat pork.  It's not kosher. (winky face) One of the several reasons a bacon cheeseburger is out of the question.  But, I'm sure the ancient Jews had lots of porkless parties.

Then I died laughing.  I'm writing this from my special place in Jewish Hell.  I'm sitting right next to all those ancient Jews who had pork roast parties.  Oy vey.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Beware that which is not where you'd expect

It is a holiday weekend, which, aside from you probably having much better things to do than read a blog, means I had a little more time on my hands and fun plans with the family.  It was the perfect weather for my favorite outfit, the one my family knows I refer to as "the one that makes me feel Parisian".  Black, white, some stripes, a splash of red, and designer jeans, oh super cute shoes and some killer accessories.  I was feeling pretty fabulous, hair and make up just right.  Ready to put on my "Hollywood" sunglasses and do some shopping, get the boys hair cut, and go out into the sun at a lovely park.  I was putting the finishing touches on, when my youngest calls to me from what was supposed to be his nap....

*** Warning... there is a huge gross out element in the rest of this post.  I hate to even post the warning, cause it takes out the surprise element which is really the star of this show, and, also, I was deprived of that courtesy myself in real time. Do not read on if you think you don't want to know anymore.***

2 year old Momma!  I peed! (he is potty trained... but only when awake, so I figured he needs his pull up changed since I thought he was napping)

I start climbing the stairs to go change him...

Me Ummm, you peed?

2 Yeah!

Me Where? Your pull up? *suddenly spot clean and dry pull up in the hall, thrown from his gated room, and start rushing* Where?!

2 On the green thing!

Me *spying naked toddler, and brown foot prints, notice cracked closet door with light coming from inside* What green thing?! The tote in your closet? Did you POOP? *rush back to my room, use intercom to call down to husband in his office* Honey, there something in your son's room that needs immediate attention from the both of us, bring paper towels and a bath towel.

Husband Be right there. *Hangs up phone, and I hear him running up the stairs, 2 flights below us, from his basement level office*

2 I did it, Momma!

Me I see. *Climbing over the gate, avoiding all poop footprints, and head to the closet* No. No. Noooooooooo.  You pooped IN the closet?! 

2 On the green thing!

Husband What happened?

Me Your kid dropped a deuce on the changing pad I had tucked away in the closet, but then he must of scoot down the pad and onto the floor, then tracked it all the way to the door with his little feet. Please start running the bath. *turning to son* Why didn't you leave your pull up on and call for help instead of pooping in the closet? *trying very hard not to be too loud and upset him, as he thinks he did good since it was "on" the changing pad, and he didn't technically poop his pants.* If your are awake it really needs to go in the potty! *remove my cute blazer and toss it into the non-disgusting, feces-free hallway*

Husband *calling from the bathroom* I have to say I will NOT miss this part of their childhood! 

Me I was so worried the other day, when we switched him to a big boy bed, because I remembered when we switched his brother to a big boy bed he pulled out all his toys, and emptied out all his drawers during his naps.  This kid literally EMPTIED OUT HIS DRAWERS onto the closet floor.  Well, not even.  He first removed his "drawers".  They are spotless.

Husband *coming back into the room to help while I'm wiping down our toddler to put him in the tub* Oh, hey, you look nice.

Me Yeah, so thrilled I got all dressed up to scrub doody out of the carpet in my designer jeans.  The "Lucky you" tag sewn into them is mocking me at this very moment. I was feeling all "This is the good life.", and then life was all "Hey, shit happens!  Now, take off your blazer and your cute shoes, get on your expensive knees, and scrub it up.  You're welcome!" 

And that's how it is.  My kiddo apologized to me, I hugged him, my husband and I laughed and cried at the same time.  Just when you start getting all smug when things are going too great, life (sometimes literally) throws some shit at you to remember that no one gets to live in perfection.  So, enjoy those special moments, but be prepared when the shit hits the fan, or the closet floor.  Because you are no different than anyone else, my friend. 


Saturday, May 18, 2013

Somehow I'm a Board Member...

We live in a neighborhood with a homeowners association, and, somehow, I'm a board member.  I signed up, and they actually let me do it, in spite of myself.  Anywho, I'm the secretary.  How fitting, one may (but probably doesn't) think.  It's not easy, though, as I have to be at least a touch professional when writing letters to send out to all our neighbors.  I just got done typing up the letter we send out after our big, yearly meeting.  Everyone cares soooooo much that like 3 households show up, but, alas, I try to fill in everyone who couldn't be bothered to show up, anyway.  I know, I'm selfless like that.  This year, I decided I would put the letter I actually want to send here.  It's NOT the one I send out, but it should be. 

Dear neighbors,
  We had a meeting.  You were told about it, but you didn't come, so I guess the date and time don't really matter.  You didn't come last year or the year before that, either.  So, we can never actually vote and get anything done.  So here is what we talked about without you.

A. You're not paying your dues.  Those of us who are, super appreciate your total lack of consideration for the rest of us who need to pay more to make up for your failure to cough up what is less than a trip to McDonalds for 2 people.  We're trying to get creative about how to get you to pay.  I would love the "dog shaming" approach, where we put up the amount you owe on your front lawn and take a picture of it and put it all over social media, but the more rational board members think that would not be "nice" and perhaps is illegal. 

B. We could use some more board members.  I'm getting a little suspicious that it might be to make up for the fact that I was allowed on the board.  (See dog shaming idea.)  Whatever the reason, we are looking for other folks to feel our frustration right along with us. 

C. Yes we are keeping the playground, stop hating children's happiness.  Why don't you just stand out front and kick some puppies while kids walk home from the bus?  Maybe hold "Santa is a fake!" picket signs up while they ride their tricycles around the neighborhood. 

D. Foreclosures are way down.  I know, Fox News would have you believe otherwise, but it's true.  We have some actual numbers.  Arithmetic. 

E. Don't be an asshole.  If it's too early or too late, turn your music down.  Kids playing next door?  Maybe you could turn the gangsta rap down so my kids stop asking "What that bitch did to 'get it.'"  Also, you do not live on a NASCAR track.  Perhaps, you can try to do a more reasonable speed.  I believe there are suggestions posted around the road on big white signs, if you can't figure out what a safe speed is.

F. Everyone hates the big trees.  Everyone.  I hate them, you hate them.  No one wants them to land on their house. 

G. You can't park on a corner... in your giant pickup truck... and especially not all 47 of your giant, rusty pick up trucks.  I know you think they are aesthetically pleasing to prospective home buyers, but they are a hazard that we can't see around to pull out. 

H.  The golf course is a hot mess.  It's not ours.  We tried to make it go to rehab, but it said "No no no!"

I. Join us on Facebook.  Thanks to the dude that made that page happen.  I couldn't do it myself, because I suck at those things, and I have not even been writing in my own blog lately.  But that dude did it.  Sweet.

J.  P.S. No one ever mentions it, but you could probably pick up your dog shit.  It's disgusting.  We do not live in a toilet.  We are putting Paris to shame, folks. 

Nailed it!

Friday, April 12, 2013

She returns...

I don't feel like going into too much detail about it on here yet, but I've been away for awhile thanks to a surgery that did not go well and ended in finding out I'm deathly allergic to at least 3 things, an emergency trip to the hospital for 4 days, and then trying to recover from the horrendous reaction from that on top of recovering from surgery.  The meds required for the allergy slow the recovery from surgery greatly, and so I have not felt like myself for quite some time.  I did not feel like I had anything to offer the blog, and did not feel great enough to make light of things in my usual fashion.  But, tonight a post on facebook (thanks to this boring, violent, movie in a language that is not one I'm fluent in) felt blog-ish to me, and I thought I'd post it here.  Maybe this will help me get back to my old self a little more.  (I returned to my champion shopping marathons this week, so the blog could be next!)

We're watching a movie in German...
Husband "He's sad."
Me "He's not even speaking! I can translate a sad face in German to a sad face in English." 
C'mon Bill Maher, so I don't have to watch this bloody submarine movie anymore.
I'm pretty sure they are saying "Ow, I'm shot!" "I'm shot, too!" "I was shot by a bomb!" "This isn't even a submarine, it just seems like it cause the boat was shot... by a bomb... and now it's sinking, and now it's like a submarine." "Hey, did someone see that guy is shot?" "Hey why is everyone bleeding?" "Were they shot?" "Does that hurt?" "How about if I poke at it, does it hurt now?" "Does anyone have anymore white scraps of fabric to wrap around this guy to get bloody? Nothing shows blood better than white fabric." "Wiener schnitzel!"
 No one has commented.  I think it's either because A. It's Friday night and they don't have small kids who are in their rooms, hollering instead of sleeping, so they are out having more fun than me, or B. They don't know what to say because they don't speak German, either.  They probably can't understand what I'm saying. 
  Oh, update, now that the movie has ended!!!
 Me "Did they just hang that guy up in a pouch because they are going to space and it's his turn to sleep." 
Husband "Probably not." 
Me "Oh, did their submarine get rescued?" 
H "Yeah, they just drove home." *eye roll* 
***Air raid alarms*** 
Me "Something else is gonna blow up. I dunno, a little bell just went off in my head and said "More bombs on the way!" 
 H "I thought that sound meant it was time for lollipops." 
 Me "See, if you didn't have me here to translate the alarm, you'd be so lost." 
Me "See! What did I tell you! Now they are all bleeding again."

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Lord of the Flies... suburb style

In about a week and a half I'll be having some surgery (I'll spare you a long explanation here), and so I have started prepping my husband and sons for Momma being out of commission for a little while.  I am pretty good at preparing for times when we'll be away from the kids, and we leave them with family.  I have a system that involves a printed schedule, sleep and meal time info, and another page that has other important info on it like where the first aid kits are... yes, kits.  We have two boys, so more than one boo boo box comes in handy. I have been treating this like I do when we go away for a couple days... only the schedule and helpful hints are for my husband.  Tonight I thought we'd review the schedule, and if he had any questions we could go over them.  I am trying to make it so everything goes smoothly.

So I run through when they get up, get them dressed, feed them, school time, naptime, bedtime... etc.  I left no details unaccounted for, such as "Put him down for a nap in comfortable clothes", so our 2 year old didn't have to try to sleep in jeans and a hoodie or something.  I'm very specific.  I guess my husband had his own ideas....

Me So, that's how our day goes.  If it's important, it's on this list.  Do you think it's helpful?

Him Okay, sure.  That's great.  BUT here's how it's going to go down.... Do you see that auto feeder for the cats over there?  I'm going to go to the pet store and buy several more.  I'm going to fill some with water, some with cat crunchies, and fill the littler box up to the top with litter so they can bury about 2 weeks of poop in it.  Then, I'm going to take a few more auto feeders, fill one with ice and milk and the other with cooked hot dog chunks.  That should take care of the kids.  Oh, and by the way, do not worry about the little one going down for a nap in comfortable clothes.  I'll just keep him in the same comfy pajamas for 2 weeks.  Then I won't have to worry about if his clothes are comfy enough, or if I get him dressed in time.  

Me I feel so much better knowing you have a plan.  A terrible plan, but at least you've thought it through.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valent...I Give Up Day!

Hating holidays is my husband's very favorite hobby.  He puts a ton of effort into hating them as hard as any one person can.  So, I don't expect TOO much out of him, but everything about this day joined forces with him to tank Valentine's Day in some of the most unusual, comical, and terrible (sometimes simultaneously) ways.  Move along if this has been the most magical day of your life or you are one public urination story away from giving up on humanity.

February 14, 2013 started with a beautiful 2 hour snow delay for school, which my 5 year old subconsciously detected.  He woke up before my alarm went off, and so cheerfully and LOUDLY announced "I know it's dark out, but I am WIDE AWAKE!!"  Hot dog. 

After fighting with the above 5 year old to get dressed, we finally had it together enough to read stories together.  I gave them the books I got them for Valentine's Day early, since we had extra time together.  That was nice.  The refusal to put on his coat to get in the car, not so nice.

My 2 year old got a belly ache, and subsequently exploded while he was supposed to be napping and I was on the phone with my girl, D, from almost a country away.  Needless to say that ended the call and prevented the nap altogether. I will add that he is feeling better, and was happy all day, even with the belly ache.

We picked up my 5 year old from school, and he had a successfully gluten free day with the support of his teacher and some planning on my part.  (Yeah, I sent in all his party snacks to match what they were having, and even helped provide an ingredient in the treat mix his teacher was making to give each of the kids in their valentines, lots of work but worth it!)  Then, we noticed all the candy his friends gave with their valentines contained copious amounts of Red 40, which he cannot have without turning into Satan.  Even he realizes it makes him feel terrible and out of control.  I was quick to sneak most of it away before he noticed it, but he spotted a red ring pop.  He begged me for it.  I told him I'd find something like it that wasn't red, and I was so sorry.  But he kept begging.... "I promise I won't eat it, Mommy!  I won't even give it one lick.  I'll just smell it."  It was so sad, and I didn't want him to torture himself with it, but I didn't want to take it from him and make him cry, either.  Dietary restrictions SUCK.

Then I get the notice that my grandparents were in an accident, were in the hospital, and their car is likely totaled.  (Currently one is home and one is still there, but just for observation.  They should be fine, thank goodness.)

I made dinner for the family plus my sister, who had come over to watch our kids while we went out.  After dinner, we gave the boys their little gifts.  They instantly swap lego sets, and then I give my husband the gifts I had for him.  He promptly leaves the room, and then returns with the SAME BOX OF CHOCOLATES I JUST GAVE HIM, and a card.  He regifted the gift I just gave him... back to me!  He also gave me a snickers bar from the pantry.  Planning ahead is not his strong suit.

After telling him I was going to take a pic of my snickers bar to put up on FB with my friend's pictures of their beautiful flowers, purses, chocolates, and jewelry.... we headed out for our date.  To our accountant.  To do our taxes.  Yes, taxes.  My husband made the appointment for Valentine's night.

On the drive over, I spotted a man perhaps having a stroke or seizure, as he seemed to violently lose footing and run into the wall next to him as he was walking down the sidewalk.  Luckily my fears were quickly squashed when we saw him just turn to pee on the wall, and himself, as he was wearing overalls.  'Cause if there was one thing missing from this day of red hot romance, it was watching steam come off of pee in the winter night as some drunk urinates in public, right around the corner from some couples all dressed up and holding hands as they strolled down the street in looooooove.

We made it to our tax appointment, mostly unscathed, just to find we were locked out of the building.  All the other offices are abandoned at that time of night, and it's a dark, around the back of the building parking lot, so the creep-out factor was high.  We call, no answer, knock on the window, no answer.... the lights were on, though.  So we eventually head home, when our accountant calls, and tells us someone else locked the doors.  So, at least we still got our taxes done? 

So, there you have it!  Our first Valentine's Day when I got a flat tire, and we ended up eating at Long John Silvers while it was replaced next door at the tire place, was a far better experience than today.  However, they both have one thing in common.... I will never forget either of them.

And.... as my sister pointed out.... at least I didn't get dumped.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

And this is why we are together...

My husband and I, 2 conversations that took place within hours of each other...

Me I think I'm going to try that natural food store in town.  You know, the one where everyone says the man who works there is mean.  

Him Why would you do that?  Everyone says he's horrible to deal with.

Me Who is this "everyone"?  I'm not afraid of a natural food salesman.  He can be mean all he wants, as long as he has some yummy gluten free selections.

Him No, I think it's more like a raw foods store.  Like organic things.  Think "Here's a clump of dried kale for you to snack on, and maybe break a tooth." Not "Try our tasty gluten free treats!"

Me No, there was an entire write up about that place in the paper.  They even have gluten free shampoo.

Him Wouldn't it be easier for these people to stop eating their shampoo?  It seems a little extreme to go all the way to a natural foods store to get your nom on with shampoo.

Me They aren't eating it!

Him Who puts wheat in shampoo, anyway?!

Me I don't know!  I'm not the maker of shampoos!  I don't know the recipe.  Pantene has vitamins,that's all I know.

Him Who are all these pica celiac disease patients living here demanding gluten free shampoo appetizers?

Me I think we're done here.  I'd rather talk to the grumpy nature food man.

3 hours later

Me *singing the old dunkaroos commercial while doing laundry*

Him Here's my wife.  She knows everything from washing the gray out of your hair, checking up on your baby doll, and snacking on the go with a bad Australian accent.  

Me *singing* I'll make you all better now, Baby Check Up... Mommy knows how, Baby Check Up!

Him The inside of your mind must be a, hmmmmmmmmmmm, special place.

There are days where I cannot tell who is losing more touch with reality.  That may be why we are together.  We probably couldn't function very long around people who had more of a handle on the world around them. *le sigh*


Thursday, February 7, 2013

Do you remember YOUR monkey?

My 5 year old son came home from school today, asking how Earth was built.  We started telling him about the big bang, and particles, and how there is more going on in space than he had yet realized.  He was intrigued.  He asked how the dinosaurs got here, and so we jumped into microorganisms and evolution.  How things from the sea moved to land... Well, apparently we have discussed evolution before and this jogged his memory.  We hadn't even gotten to humans yet when he asked:

5: People used to be monkeys.  Mom, did you come from a monkey?  Do you remember your monkey?

Me: Well... kinda.  You are right, humans came from monkeys. My monkey was Nana.  I think it's important to note that Nana is actually not a monkey, and she is a human.  I came from Nana.  

5: Oh.  Did she come from a monkey?

Me: Honey, none of the monkeys you see today just had human babies.  None of the humans you see had monkey mommies.  Although.... 

5: Well when did monkeys start having human babies?

Me: Never, evolution happens very very slowly.  Like monkeys started ...

5: To stand up!  Monkeys learned to stand up.

Me: Yes, over time monkeys changed to adjust to the world around them, and developed traits that would help them live longer, and be stronger in their environment.  To put it simply.  But, it goes very slow, and you cannot see it happen right before your eyes.  It happens over lifetimes.  

5: Oh, so you didn't come from a monkey.

Me: Hmmm, now that you mention it, Nana does like bananas, and she can be pret-ty silly.

5: But she's no monkey.

Then, I suppose finding out that monkeys don't have human babies was a bummer, and he ran off to play hotwheels instead of discussing evolution with his boring, non-monkey mother. Which is probably for the best, because we were getting awfully close to Mommy having to break out Google to continue this discussion. (What did our parents do without Google?!)

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Live Blogging the Super Bowl

I'm live blogging the Super Bowl. 

Well, of course after I went and got groceries while the game started and everyone else was watching football.  #LikebeingJewishonChristmasDay

I like football as much as the next girl... unless the next girl likes football... then no.

It's okay, my husband doesn't watch football either.  It might have something to do with the "xxxLiveNudeGirlxxx!!!" sign I hang on the door during games.  ;)

Just kidding about that last one, kinda.  I mean, though, c'mon... men in spandex chasing each other over a ball or an actual woman?  Try it, ladies.

Did Ray Lewis consider stabbing the other team?  It would at least slow them down.

So, my husband hears Beyonce and hollers from the other room "Is it halftime?"  I tried to convince him it wasn't... it was just the teams pants off dance off.  Then, for some reason not believing me, he comes in and asks "Is that Shakira or Beyonce?"  I guess more than one gal has hips that don't lie.

Now we are playing "What the hell is this commercial advertising?!"  Oprah's got a new show?  Are they gonna say to everyone at the super bowl... look under your seat... you're all getting cars?  Joining the military?  Is there an Oprah movie coming out?!  Quick, look under our couch, maybe we got a new car, too!

Oh, wait!  My husband is actually cheering!  Of course, it's for the 2 Broke Girls commercial... 

Oh, instant replay... of the 2 Broke Girls commercial.

And the game just turned into The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, from our DVR.  He's looking strong tonight.  I think he'll win this one.

#SpoilerAlert  Jon is opting to not wear the spandex or helmet.  No matter how much I beg.

We are now officially out of our Super Bowl appetizers.  And by that I mean I just finished eating this strawberry cottage double.  

Update: There was no car from Oprah under my seat, but there was a lego and a crayon.

Ugh, my sister missed the 2 Broke Girls commercial because she is doing the Super Bowl wrong.  Do your laundry while they are throwing that ball around, for Pete's sake, not during the good parts. 

I hear the lights went out.  Someone playing the "Ray Lewis Crying Drinking Game" probably just passed out against the light switch.

They just advertised football during football.  Maybe they could put a little mini super bowl in the corner of the screen so we can watch a football commercial advertising football during the football game while we watch a football commercial advertising football during the football game, just like the mini facebook in the corner of facebook idea... cause you CANNOT get enough football.

Oh now they are gonna talk about football since we can't see football with the lights out.  Aaaaaand back to Jon Stewart....

Friday, January 18, 2013

Those bowling rental shoes are getting better all the time!

Last night my husband attended a party for his boss at work.  They're friends, I'd say, as are most of the people on his team.  So they went to "Grown Up Chuck E Cheese", as I call it.  The party was supposed to start at 4:30, so he said he'd be home by the boy's bath time, 8pm.  So, I get a call at 7:30...

Him Hi, honey!  This is going a little later than I thought, so is it okay if I stay even if it means me missing the boy's bedtime?  I'd like to play a game of bowling.

Me *sarcasm* No, I need you to get home in time for this bath, thanks for asking!  You're like what, an hour away?  Oh WAIT... so what you MEAN to say is "Honey, there is no way I'm going to make it home in time for the boy's bath like I said I would.  I just wanted to let you know I will be late, and I really think we should buy you some new Manolo's.

Him There IS a Neiman Marcus  here.  *sigh*  This is going to be the most expensive game of bowling in history.

Me Size 8 1/2.  Better yet, you can take me there this weekend so that I may choose the pair that you may buy me.

*Very ridiculous attempt at a woman's voice from some coworker* Oh honey, come on, come over here.  I'm waiting.  Let's go.... what are you doing?"

Husband That's Brandon.  He thinks he's funny.

Me Well, tell Brandon that if he wants to make himself sound believably like someone my husband would cheat with, he should aim for less Minnie Mouse and more Neil deGrasse Tyson.

Husband Touche.  Wait, Brandon wants to talk to you.  *muffled voice* I dunno, man.  I'm not sure it's a good idea.  You've done SO well already, don't you think?  You don't know her... you won't win.  No. one. can. win.

Me What is going on?

Him Brandon wants to know if you're angry.

Me About what?  I mean, sure you called to pretend to be a gentleman and ASK (from over an hour away) if it was okay if you stayed out past the time you were due home which would be in half an hour.  I understand how math works and that it was therefore a fake question, but I'm not angry.  You do far more stupid things that I must reserve my anger for.  Have fun with your friends.  I can handle bedtime.  

Him Good, thanks!  They have Jimmy Choo's, too.  

Me You better go before your friends hear you and beat you up.  

Cut to three hours later when he calls to tell me he's heading home....

Me See, much more stupid things....

Him What are you doing?

Me Getting ready for bed!  I was waiting to set the alarm, but now you'll have to call me to turn it off because I'm setting it without you!

Him What are you wearing?

Me A frown and a frying pan.  

Him The big one or the little one?

Me What's it matter?  I can either whack ya with the big one, or make a shiv outta the little one's handle and stick ya. 

Him The shoes aren't punishment enough?

Me That wasn't punishment!  That was a party favor for ME, I was just trying to strike while the frying pan was hot.

Him It's iron, "while the iron's hot...".

Me No, I assure you, I'm holding a frying pan.  You may want to just come in while the alarm is still set, help could come for you much faster.  OR you could try to add "Oh, I"m going to be over 3 hours late." instead of "I think I'm going to miss being home in half an hour." to your next phone conversation, so I don't think you're bleeding in a ditch somewhere.

Him But you didn't call to check on me to see if I WAS in a ditch.

Me No, I was too busy looking at Manolo's online, picking out my bowling shoes.

Him So you weren't so worried.

Me No, you're pretty consistent about leaving out important details in conversation, so I just start filling in the blanks on my own.  Like maybe "I won't be home in half an hour"  could be paired with "Because I will be hanging with the guys for 3 more hours." or "Because I'm on my way to jail." or "Because I wanted to give you plenty of time to shop online without me pestering you about some silly 'budget'.  How's three hours?"  This time I assumed you meant number 3.  Thanks!  

Him The big one.  Just hit me with the big frying pan.

Me Remember to call so I can turn off the alarm!