Demystifying the blanket

It's that time of year when my family all starts making their wish lists for birthdays and the holidays.  I am having a little trouble coming up with ideas for things I want, but I do know exactly what I don't want. 

Anything that says "Using a blanket has become too mind boggling and difficult for me", will not be making my list.  This means you, "Snuggie", and also you, "Forever Lazy". I mean, come the hell on.  Every commercial I see for these things show people fighting with blankets, as if the idea of simply laying soft, warm fabric over your body to stay warm has become downright perplexing.  Blankets, and their flat, often rectangular shape are just too hard to master.  Who has time to figure out the proper application of a blanket, and then to execute the act of placing it on the cold section of their body with enough precision and timing to get enough of the over-sized death trap just where they need it to be to get warm?  Forget putting on sweat suits, they are 2 separate pieces!  What a hassle.  You have to choose which half of that outfit to put on first, and that decision can be more overwhelming than one human being may be able to handle on their own. 

I also can't get over the commercial scenes where they are wearing these abominations in public.  Nothing quite says "I've completely given up on life" like wearing part of your bed out into public.  At that point, why bother getting out of bed at all?  Heck, the Forever Lazy even has a "trap door" so you might as well not go through the trouble of getting out of bed, and mingling amongst the living.  Just keep a bed pan next to you, and you're good to go... or stay really. 

While I still understand the complexities of using a blanket, the mind boggling method for putting on a robe, and how to operate my heater... oh and mostly while I still have some self respect... I will be avoiding anything that turns any seat into your bed, or let's you feel like you haven't left bed yet while you take your 4th pee of the day, or says "casual friday?!  let me go down to Bed Bath and Beyond to see what ugly bed linens I can wrap around my body in a "function meets fashion" type of way. 

I know the ease of these products, and the "one size fits all, and that size is 3 ring circus tent" could be appealing, but that kind of comfort is for indoors only... and those doors really need to be your own doors.  Friends don't let friends wear sleeping bags with arm holes and leg holes in any public place. 

Ask and you shall receive... unless it's from a jackass security guard not doing his job...

Yesterday, my sister pointed out that Tim Gunn would be at a (kinda not really) local mall.  I immediately said we should go!  (If you will, refer to my previous blog post I am a 58 year old man . )  The event was a Lucky Brand fashion show, and Tim Gunn was co-host.  There also was a Q&A session, and it was followed by an after party, where your ticket was your receipt for a $100 dollar purchase (or greater) from the store.  In the "party" you'd meet Tim, he'd sign a personalized autograph for you in his book, you'd get the book, a picture with him, champagne, food... etc...  So, we showed up the moment the mall opened, and we were the 3rd little "couple" in line.  We made our purchase, and when they opened the seating area, we sat 2nd row, directly up at the front part of the stage.  We had fantastic seats.  (Front row was reserved for employees and VIPs (mostly people who helped with the show).  Waiting didn't suck, we had fun people around us, and we just went with the flow.  The show was fun.  Tim was great.  We got lots of helpful fashion advice.  The Q&A was also fun.  I admit, I do not watch his show.  I read his book and became a fan of the man himself, as a human being, not whoever everyone sees on tv.  It's like a good movie based on a book, read the book first!  That's where the good stuff is. 

Well, we thought we were set, we arrived early, had great seats... then after the show they wanted to tear down the seats and set up some tables and it was just a huge crowd of total chaos.  Where they originally told us to go, well that wasn't right, then they herded us somewhere else, and somewhere else again, put up ropes, moved those a million times, then started at the front of the line, and asked people to back up.  Hey, genius, back up where?  Start at the back of the friggin line where people actually have a place to back up to!  I can't back up into another human being... it's not physically possible.  I am NOT the only person, apparently, who pointed this out to him.  Everyone was agitated, and upset over losing their spot or how folks who just got there were in the front somehow, and we had been there for hours along with a bunch of other people.  It was a mad house.

Finally, there was at least some organization developing.  Then some ignorant woman keeps trying to sweet talk people into letting her teenage daughter cut in line.  People keep turning her down, and then I took a moment to tell her how ignorant and rude she was, (she had been harassing the young woman in front of me for quite some time, trying to shove her daughter in front of her)  we had all been waiting.  Get to the back of the line.  So, everyone notices her sweet talking some security guard, who lets her kid in.  So I spoke to him, trying to get him to make her leave, he said "I saw nothing!" in the most smart-assed tone with the matching smirk.  I did notice, after I spoke to Tim Gunn's assistant, who happened to be coming around, and I pointed out that Tim would NOT have that since he's all about good manners... that security guard was taken off "line duty".  He saw nothing.  Wonder if he saw his job the next morning?  Tim should add that rule to his book "Don't further piss off a hot, thirsty, tired, mob of folks who have already been jerked around enough."

Luckily, all that didn't matter as we got close to the stage again, this time to meet Tim.  He was kind, gracious, and friendly.  Exactly who you would expect him to be after reading his book (or watching him on the show).  He said in his book that he doesn't just critique people's outfits, unless they ask.  He also says he can't lie.  So, I thought I could use my moment with him to get some good, quality honest feedback from someone who knows fashion.  I asked him what he had to tell me about my fashion choices for the day.  After saying "What?  You?!" like he was surprised I was even worried about it "You look fabulous!  You're beautiful, I love this little bit of sparkle, the fit, and the proportion of your outfit!  You're fabulous."  So, me and my big fat head left with a big fat smile on my face.

It was a fun adventure with my sister.  We had a good time, we made it through the hours of standing in an angry mob, and we got some fantastic pictures.  I don't often post pictures on here, as this is (mostly, save for a few of you) anonymous blog, but this time I'll break the rules. 

Here we are, just after our professional picture...

And here we are chatting as he signs my copy of his book.

Class act, that man.  Class act.

Friday night excitement... try not to be jealous

I thought I'd do something nice and paint my finger nails, as I am attending a fashion show tomorrow.  Well, of course, we all know I cannot have nice things.  Mostly this is because any of the 3 boys in this house destroy everything pretty in their wake, but tonight it wasn't actually their fault... well read for yourself...

Me I just painted my nails!  Yay! (long pause)  I really super have to pee.  Booooooo!
(staring at my husband)

Him  *finishes laughing at me* Wait, why are you looking at me like I can help you?  For, I assure you, I cannot.  Not at all.  In any way.

Me No!  I'm just brainstorming.

Him Yeah, I know, I can hear it.

Me  Nice.  So helpful.  Sooooooo helpful.

Stewed tomatoes make me gag, and NASCAR is, well NASCAR

Lately everyone is talking about Kim Kardashian's divorce.  You know, the one that she filed for almost immediately after leaving the church or something... Anywho... some of us have come out of the closet on Facebook to admit that we do not give a fuck about it.  All the endless updates and speculation.  Who cares?!  I have never, not even for a millisecond, cared about the Kardashians.  They are completely irrelevant to me.  I know, gasp.  I was chatting with a friend about this, yeah you, B, and asked him if he knew what I cared about more than KK... the answer?  Everything!  Now, that was a pretty rash answer, so I thought about it for more than a minute, and just with the quick list of things I really hate but are somehow more important to me than the state of her union, I'm pretty sure my answer was right.  Here's just a few examples of things I really do not care if they disappear, yet still place higher than the dissolution of this pseudo-celebrity's marriage...

1. Stewed tomatoes.  I hate these things.  Ask my mother, they make me gag something fierce.  I would rather sit in a dark dining room, long after everyone was finished eating, than put them in my mouth.  However, if I was cooking for a sick friend or a stressed friend who really loved them, I'd suck it up and find the best recipe out there and cook some up.  No problem.  I just wouldn't let my other food touch that food.

2.  NASCAR.  Just in case it is not obvious, I am not a NASCAR girl.  I mean, if I wanted to see a car go around in circles for hours, I'd just go out without my GPS.  However, my son loves the movie "Cars", and I think more than a little inspiration for that cute little movie came from NASCAR, so I do appreciate it in that respect. 

3. Pajama pants and crocs worn out in inappropriate public places.  Now, PJ pants and crocs are not all bad.  They have their place, and they are fantastic when the time is right.  Muddy garden?  Crocs please!  Chillin' on my couch?  Pass the PJ pants.  :)  However, when I'm out at the market trying to pick out an avocado, I don't want to feel like I interrupted your nap time.  If I'm dining at an establishment where the place settings include two or more forks, I do not appreciate plastic foam footwear.  Time and place, people!  Time. and. place.

4. Justin Bieber.  I do not get this craze, at all... BUT the nearby teenage girls stop shrieking and talking in those valley girl/mean girl voices to listen in blissful silence to that kid.  That is nearly a miracle. 

So, you see, just from this small list, it's rather obvious that someone's relationship status (especially someone who is really famous for next to nothing), is none of my concern.  Everyone can stop with the updates and the speculation.  No one cares, at least no one should.  Yes, it's ridiculous, but it's not news and it certainly is not important.  Did anyone notice that at least 29 people totally died from that freak pre-Halloween snow?!  Probably not.  Kim Kardashian's divorced butt was in the way. 

It's the sweet little things...

After more than 11 years together, my husband and I still write little love notes.  :)  Just keepin' the romance alive!

Remember when you were little and couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve? Yeah, it's like that.

I remember, for years, I could not sleep at all on Christmas Eve.  I'd be up all night.  Just KNOWING Santa was coming and we'd be surrounded by presents, family, music, and fun, I could not relax enough to get any shut eye.  It felt almost like being on the verge of a panic attack.  Well, I got to relive all the joys of those crazed feelings today. 

It is said that stress is stress.  Good stress, bad stress, the body does not know the difference.  Today I got an overwhelming amount of good news (news that I will be keeping quiet in order to not jinx anything, as it will take awhile for everything to fall into place before we get to our "Christmas Day").  I was so happy to get the news (and no, this is not baby news), but I did not expect how overwhelmingly awesome it would turn out to be.

That being said, I am not myself today.  I cannot even remember what it was that happened earlier (pre-crazy-good-news), that made me say "OMG, I will be writing about THAT!"  Hopefully I will return to a normal, non-jittery, human being shortly.  (Although, I totally don't mind the whole not being able to eat thing... that's like a bonus.) 

So, until my normal self returns... talk amongst yourselves.  Most of you are funnier and more interesting than me, anyway.  :)

His Mommy and other stuff my kid's nightmares are made of...

Late last night, my oldest son wandered into my room with some type of nightmare, hallucination, sleep-walking episode (sound familiar, Mom?), and told me he did not like the make-up on his face and wanted me to wash it off for him.  It took me a few moments to even understand what his request was, but I finally figured out that he was still upset that we asked if we could put silver make-up on his face to make him look more like a robot.  We respected his wish to not wear the make-up.  The idea seemed to scare him a bit, as the pictures on the make-up box were of the scary variety.  Apparently, his anxiety had crept into his dreams.  I showed him his face in the mirror, and the picture of him dressed up so he could see he wasn't, nor was he ever, covered in that make-up.  It also helped that he was waking up more, so reality was starting to set in for him. 

The poor thing had to skip like 50% of the houses in our neighborhood because he deemed them "too scary" to visit.  Now, in his defense, our neighbors really seem to get into the spooky spirit with very scary, life-like displays of hangings, severed heads and limbs... tons of blood and gore and scary sound effects.  And, also in his defense, he is only 4 years old and has yet to make friends with that monster under his bed. 

Well, I did what any top notch mother would do, and decided to ease my son's irrational fear of costume make-up by showing him that it could be fun.  So, I proceeded to doll myself up as a silly clown.  I could hear him down in his playroom, so I put on a silly hat and went down to delight him with total silliness, all the while smiling to myself over the awards I was gonna win for being "mother of the year".  Instead, I scared the shit out of him.  He literally recoiled in fear, and would not get anywhere near me.  At least the baby thought it was hilarious (the same baby that chases my 4 year old through the house with the "eyeball balloon" I bought them, hissing at his brother because he knows it scares him).  THAT son thought I was a riot, and his brother's fearful reaction only made it more fabulous.  He walked up to me, giggling and poking at my red nose.  I asked my oldest "Isn't it funny?!  I'm a funny clown!"  He said "No.  No, you're not." 

I guess this means I'm out of the running for that "Mother of the Year" award.  Perhaps I shouldn't have cleared a spot for it on my nightstand as I skipped downstairs dressed like "Devil clown, killer of all that is happy for children."  That may have been slightly premature.