Tuesday, December 23, 2008
I just want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas that you are able to enjoy with your loved ones and make many memories and I just want to thank you for reading my gibberish throughout the year.
Happy, Happy Holidays!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
What wakes you: Dogs
Your initial look in the mirror reveals: Samsonite
You usually first put on: Lights
Your closet: Nightmare
Your mood before 11am: Manic
The first thing you look at online after email: Blogs
Something you tend to snack on: Everything! (Ask me what I don't eat!)
What you see out your front door: Driveway
Your takeout menus: Memorized
Number of boxes of tissue out in your home right now: Three
The way you sneeze would read: "Ahchoo Ahhhchooo Ahhhchhhhhooooo"
Number of times a day you probably brush your hair: Two
The most predominant thing in your pantry: Beans
A smell commonly coming from your kitchen: Coffee
How you sort your books: Sort?
The way you keep your place in a book: Scrap
Something you hide when people come over: Myself
Number of people normally at your table during dinner: Many
Something you put on your nightstand before bed: I don't put anything on but I take a cat off of it
How high you pull the covers when you go to sleep: Neck
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I may or may not post it in the future, but for now, here's something I don't mind seeing and hearing over and over!
Friday, December 5, 2008
As I watch you changing daily, gnawing on your cuticles and picking at your face, trying to figure out what's real about this world and what's fabricated, I want to jump on your ass and cram you into a box and not let you out ever again.
No really, it upsets me to see you changing all the time, doing this "I'm growing up" thing. I could really care less if I did it to my parents because MY growing up didn't rip their hearts out like you're doing to me!
I can't stand to see you leave your childhood behind. You loom in the distance like a tall, willowy figure. Except for the times you hunch over with your hands thrust into your hoodie and your chin at your chest because walking upright isn't cool.
Oh sweet child of mine, one minute you're wanting to play (just for old times sake) the old peek a boo game that would cause you to emit hiccup-laced giggles as a baby and the next, your ass is stuck to the desk chair because you're addicted to MySpace or you're texting on your cell phone to "too-pretty-for-their-own-good" girls.
You can definitely be four seasons in one day. I know you have a lot of turmoil to put up with inside your head. I know that sticking out for ANY reason is far too stressful than being one of the walking lemmings. I know that while your nearly 16 years of life haven't been the most conventional, they certainly have been hundreds of times better than most.
Which is why I cannot abide by the disrespectful nature you have been adopting lately.
My son, until you are old enough to leave the house and begin your own journey through this world, you WILL abide by my rules. These rules are set by me for your own protection, safety and all around wellness.
I am trying to help you become a sensible person who makes decisions based upon logic instead of flipping a coin. I would also rather see you come to despise me for making you get up and go to school only to be "BORED TO DEATH" for six and a half hours a day, than hear you asking me if I want to upsize my order a few short years from now.
I do NOT want to run your life. I repeat: I DO NOT WANT TO RUN YOUR LIFE! You're a totally cool cat for the most part who makes sound decisions and gets decent grades (you could do much better though with just a small amount of effort!).
However, until the day comes when you are sufficiently capable of doing it ALL on your own, I will be your superior officer lording over you with the 40 years of experience you lack.
I may not know everything, but I sure do know a lot more than you! So don't you DARE give me that icy glare through your hair, because I will catapult you into next week so fast, your clothes will be last year's cast offs!
I know you love me. I know you're a good person. I know you detest waking up in the morning just as much as I do. But guess what? Going to school is the EASY part! Getting an education is so much BETTER than working day after day in a dead-end job. You can be ANYTHING you want my boy. The sky is the limit, and with the space program -- it probably isn't even that! You are so smart and you're a natural at so many things, just don't sell yourself short!
You know I'm your #1 fan. You do for me and I'm there for you. Please take the trash out and make sure the dogs get their dinner. Please just cut out this business of being conveniently lazy! Your brain is too good to waste.
I love you my boy, my son, my darling baby.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I don't already own "party attire" because I have so many other things to spend money on and RARELY, RARELY do I go anywhere I need to look better than in a nice pair of pants or jeans and a nice blouse.
Sadly, work clothes won't cut it either in this case. Most of my work wardrobe is becoming, how shall I say this...worn out and ill-fitting. You see, I hate to shop for clothes for myself. I watch Clinton and Stacy on "What Not To Wear" all the time and pray every single night that someone who cares about me will nominate me for televised humiliation, just so I can get that $5,000 brand new wardrobe!
I am a big girl and I can't pop into any little ol boutique or store in the mall for a cutie-pie dress.
Not these thighs, not these hips, not these boobs and CERTAINLY NOT this ass.
Which brings me to today's rant: Why do fashion designers feel the need to shove loud and ugly clothing down the throats of bigger-sized women? Do they honestly believe that since we obviously can't control our weight and size, that we won't give a damn about the clothes that cover our rolls?
And by we, I'm really meaning ME.
I think the clothes that I'm finding online are horrendous looking, over-priced and probably shoddily made. NOT to mention that hardly a single model for most of these places are NOT size 14 or higher. NO WAY JOSE, you can't make me believe it.
Take this chicka for instance:
She's modeling some loungewear that's on sale at a BIG name retailer for plus size women. See those clavical bones PROTRUDING out there? See that tiny waist? She's not a big girl.
Why would I want to see how these clothes are going to fit on her, when I'm trying to imagine how they're going to drape miserable over my rolls of fat? It's just not going to work.
Clothing store owners hear this: Do not hire buyers for your store who go looking for the tired, old crap that you think no one is going to realize makes them look like they escaped from the crazy tiki hut, or Omar's tent shop. And hire some models who look like the women whose money you're trying to get.
We really do care about our presentation, even if you think our bodies tell a different story.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Which leaves me with an even greater appreciation for those people who CAN come up with talented, thoughtful and hilarious things to write about day after day or at least a majority of any given week.
These people have husbands, wives, children, pets, jobs, family and plenty of distractions - but they still post. And for that, I am grateful. Grateful for the inspiration and for the chance to ignore all of my distractions.
Thank you bloggers!