Did you ever have one of those nights where you wake up around 3:30 am, and are WIDE AWAKE? And you start convincing yourself that you really got enough sleep, and are good to go, because you don't want to deal with the hassle of tossing and turning and finding the cool side of the pillow and freaking out about the fact that you have to get up in x number of hours? So you get up and eat cheese and crackers, and a few mini frozen Twix bars for good measure, and then decide that maybe you are still sleepy? And then, immediately after finally falling back asleep (or so it seems, anyway), your alarm goes off, and you feel like death?
Yeah, that's where I'm at right now.
Consequently, I apologize in advance if this post seems...I guess "disjointed" is the nicest way to put it.
*****
First of all, I knew you guys would hook me up with good music. Many thanks. :)
Also, per your comments, it seems that I'm going to have to do my karaoke "Total Eclipse of the Heart" sooner rather than later. Hey, you know what would be fun? One of my fellow karaoke lovers (Whiskeymarie? Whoorl? Gorillabuns? I'm looking at you.) should come to NY and we can go record my performance together! It will save J the embarrassment of last time.
Finally, you'd indicated that you would, in fact, like to see a picture of my anniversary gift. J got me the most gorgeous diamond dangly earrings. Ooh! Wouldn’t Diamond Dangle be a great male porn star name? Like, for some cheesy dude in the 70s? With a mullet? And a bushy mustache? I can see it now: “Come on out and see Saturday Night Beaver, starring Diamond Dangle!”
Oh, Lord.
How did I get from talking about my anniversary present to THAT??
Without further ado, here's the gift:
Dear Internet Friends,
Please invite me to some sort of fancypants soiree so that I have a reason to wear these. If not, I’m going to get desperate and somehow rationalize wearing them to the supermarket like a crazy person.
Thanks,
Me
Moving on; it’s bargain beauty review time!
It’s winter. It’s cold out, and your apartment building's management has apparently set the thermostat to “broil” in order to accommodate the many crotchety old people who live there. Despite your best efforts, it seems that the weather outside and the dry heat inside have conspired to make your lips chapped to the point that it looks like you ran a cheese grater over them. It’s…not pretty. What to do?
My suggestion is Burt’s Bees Replenishing Lip Balm with Pomegranate Oil. It’s one of the best straight-up balm sticks I’ve found in quite a while. (Sephora makes the best potted balm I’ve ever found, but sadly, it lacks the convenience of a stick.) This balm is basically sheer with a whisper of pink tint. It smells like…hmm. You know what it smells like, actually? Welch’s Mixed Fruit fruit snacks. I can’t be any more specific than that. It’ll run you about $3, and you'll have lush, moisturized lips in no time.
I was going to do a Thanksgiving recap, but the week got away from me, and it seems sort of silly to do over a week later, no? One of the reasons for this week flying by is that in a recent fit of nostalgia, J purchased some of our favorite 80’s movies, and we've spent the past few nights watching them. Poof! Goodbye, free time! We were immediately sucked in. I must say, however, that movies still hold up. J’s pick was Can’t Buy Me Love, and mine was Adventures in Babysitting. (Anyone who’s seen the latter: Did you have any idea that “Thor” was Vincent D’Onofrio??)
And so now comes the interactive part: What was your favorite 80’s movie? (In the interest of full disclosure, in addition to Adventures in Babysitting, Annie was most definitely at the top of my list.)
1) Let's say that you're in a total music funk, and are looking for some new songs. (Note: The exception to this music funk is my elation at the discovery of the song "Keepsake" by State Radio, which came into my life last week, and with which I have fallen deeply in love. Download that shit now, people.) WHAT SONGS WOULD YOU DOWNLOAD?? (My musical tastes run very wide, so feel free to suggest pretty much any song that you're into.)
2) Would it be tacky if I showed you a picture of my anniversary present?
3) You know how I have this habit of mentioning things and then not following through? Like promising to tell you about how I saw Fabio, or my plan to do a big-ass Q&A post based on your questions, or how I was going to perform a karaoke version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" for Amaretto, my pregnant friend who is bored on bedrest?
Well, enough is enough. I'm going to do all of these things very soon, but...which would you like to see first? And since I think I know the answer already, do I have to go to an actual karaoke bar to perform, or can I break in my new karaoke machine?
Earlier this evening, J and I were watching Sesame Street with T, and R.E.M. appeared, singing “Furry Happy Monsters” with some…Muppets? Puppets? (Are they called Muppets only when they appear on The Muppet Show?I never know.) Watching them perform, I remarked to J that the very first CD I’d ever purchased was R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People. As I was about to launch into my a spiel about my memories of the CD, J saw fit to tell me about the first CD that he’d ever purchased.
It was Totally Krossed Out.
By KRIS KROSS.
Oh, you don’t know about Kris Kross?
They were a teen rap duo in the early Nineties. Their big gimmick was WEARING THEIR CLOTHES BACKWARDS. Allow me to introduce you:
Can you see now why I came down with an unstoppable case of the (ever-attractive) snorting giggles when J informed me of this?
However, this isn’t really about Kris Kross, or my husband’s questionable taste in music as a child.
You see, it’s our anniversary on Friday.
And over the past four years of marriage, we’ve experienced enough together so that I know I’m married to an incredibly kind, brilliant and good man. I know that. But it’s the little things like this, the random, funny things that I didn’t know (until now) that truly warm my heart. And somehow, if it’s possible? Make me love him even more.
Then
Now
Happy Anniversary, J!
* * * * *
Since I’m apparently video-happy today, and the next few days are all about: (a) eating and (b) family, are there any of you that DON’T want to see:
A runaway frozen turkey?
or...
Nell Carter cavorting onstage and singing with Bea Arthur, Punky Brewster, Carlton from Fresh Prince, et al.?
First of all, thank you all so much for your kind thoughts and good wishes for Toopweets (and thanks to Jackie for clearing up my kilograms mystery!); he really is all better. It's really amazing how quickly kids bounce back.
I mean, I'm no hypochondriac or anything (Universe: HA!), but if it had been me running a fever the approximate temperature of melted Pepper Jack cheese? I'd STILL be lying in bed, bemoaning my fate and picking out my casket like that crotchety old bat Mrs. Snow in Pollyanna.
Uh, not like I've seen that movie upwards of twelve times, or anything.
Yes, if it had been me, I'd likely be flinging my hand to my forehead a lot, and flopping into a sea of pillows, shivering from my flu. I'd probably also be wearing a floor-length dressing gown. As my name is not Blanche Devereaux, I don't presently own one, but it seems like a good thing to have around for when you're sick, no? Ooh, and a satin TURBAN! Man, I would be a kick ass flu-haver.
Um.
I wish I could say that the above paragraphs were indicative of me getting off track, but truthfully, I have no topic for today. I ordinarily don't write unless I have something to say (hence the severe dearth of posts lately), but T is sleeping, J is at the dentist, and I'm waiting for him to come home so we can watch our DVR'ed Shows of Awesomeness. So, you're stuck with me. Me and my total lack of blog topics. Hooray!
Let's start with one of the DVR'ed shows that I am itching to watch right now, but because I am A GOOD WIFE I AM REFRAINING FROM DOING SO: 30 Rock. My love for this program is well-documented, so imagine my utter glee when I found out about THIS.
Sweet. Fancy. Moses.
Unfortunately (and unsurprisingly), it's sold out, and I'm not ready to resort to turning tricks for tickets.
Yet.
Oh, and while we're on the subject of 30 Rock? Were you all aware that there is a full-length version of Tracy Jordan’s “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” song? Perhaps it's their pitch-perfect use of the Jewish words and places I know so well (holla, fellow Hebrews!), as well as the "traditional" bar mitzvah pictures used in the slide show, but I laughed so hard that I may have almost peed a little.
And no, I'm never going to stop thinking that it's funny. I may or may not already be mentally working the theme into the future plans for a certain little boy’s Bar Mitzvah...in 2019.
What else....
Ooh, my new makeup is here! And it is fabulous.
Moving on: I am an idiot.
You see, I keep a metric ton of shoes under my desk at work. Honestly, most of them are “work” shoes; boring drab flats that I don’t really care about. But two pairs….ah, they were my shoebabies. One was a pair of wool red herringbone tweed flats with wee little flowers on either side, and the other pair was pointy-toed gray suede shoes with little kitten heels.
A few weeks ago, the red shoes tapped me on the shoulder. “Please, Metalia! Don’t you loooove us? We’re languishing here! Take us hoo-ooo-oo-ome,” they bleated. “Don’t let our gorgeous good looks be wasted only on your co-workers! Let us see the city streets! Let us step in gum, and hobo pee! Let us LIIIIVE!! Wear us to a partyyyyy! Put us to good uuuuuse!” Now, I don’t know why they spoke like sheep (perhaps because they’re made of wool?), but I realized that the shoes had a point.
I also realized I should stop tripping on peyote during the day.
(KIDDING, Mom!)
Imaginary talking shoes aside, I hugged both pairs close to my heart, and promised to take them with me when I left for the day.
Unfortunately, that promise didn’t extend to actually taking them home, because I LEFT THEM ON THE SUBWAY.
No one could be more shocked about this than me. I am totally OCD when it comes to holding onto my shit on the subway. (Being pickpocketed and subsequently spending 80 bajillion years on the phone with the credit card and credit report companies will do that to you.) But be that as it may, here I sit, sans cute grey and red shoes.
This must be remedied.
And so, I ask you, in the spirit of this Flickr group: Have you seen any cute, colorful flats lately that I absolutely MUST buy? I can never replace the shoes I lost in my heart, but--Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Of course I can. HELP!
What’s that you say? Your baby has a fever of 105 and is shaking uncontrollably? Oh, and his eyes are fluttering? Have no fear! I’m here with a few simple steps (or 45) on what to expect, and how to get through it:
1. Call your pediatrician and leave a message. Even if it is late on a Saturday night. Whatever, she already thinks you’re the worst mom ever.
2. Wait for her to call you back.
3. Wait some more.
4. Just breathe.
5. Ask your husband to place feverish baby in the bath.
6. Continue waiting for pediatrician's call.
7. Curse pediatrician. Repeatedly.
8. Finally receive a phone call back. Doctor instructs you to immediately take baby to emergency room.
9. For possible spinal tap to rule out meningitis.
10. Try your damndest to hold it together.
11. Fail miserably.
12. Just breathe.
13. After your husband helps you to pull yourself together, make it to hospital in record time.
14. Wonder aloud with your husband as to whether or not you can leave your car parked askew directly in front of the hospital entrance.
15. Decide to listen to drunken bearded weirdo who tells you that it’s fine.
16. Banter wittily amongst yourselves about how the drunken bearded weirdo will be driving your car off into the night in minutes with his equally drunk and bearded weirdo friends.
17. See how you can make jokes? EVERYTHING IS FINE. FIIIINE.
18. Just breathe.
19. Bolt into ER with baby in your husband's arms.
20. Note that it looks NOTHING like Seattle Grace. These are mole people. Where are all the hot people? And angsty interns?
21. Get seen by triage nurse. She will run various tests and shout rapid-fire instructions at you in broken English.
22. One such instruction will be “Scale! Scale!”
23. This does not mean that you AND the baby should get on the gigantic, Biggest Loser-style scale together. I mean, really. DUH. (Though together, you weigh 58 kg. You do not know what this equates to, why you remember this, or why the scale was in kilograms.)
24. Cut yourself a break; you’re a nervous wreck.
25. Just breathe.
26. Weigh baby AND BABY ALONE.
27. Return to waiting room, where you will be surrounded by, among others: a sweet little girl having an asthma attack, Phlegmy O’Coughington, the Boy Who Doesn’t Cover His Mouth (curse you, Phlegmy!),Wendy’s-eating teenagers who APPARENTLY HANG OUT IN THE ER FOR FUN and assorted other sick kids who could not seem any more contagious if they tried. You wil swear up and down to your husband that one boy might actually have the Bubonic Plague.
28. Concoct a detailed fantasy about frolicking in a never-ending shower of Purell.
29. Attempt to soothe whimpering, feverish, shaking baby.
30. Pass whimpering, feverish, shaking baby to your husband.
31. Lather, rinse, repeat.
32. Just breathe.
33. After what seems like an eternity, get seen by the WORLD’S NICEST DOCTOR.
34. Many tests will be taken.
35. You wait.
36. Your sick baby will lie there, dazed, in the little hospital bed.
37. Just breathe.
38. The doctor will return.
39. She will thankfully rule out meningitis, and a myriad of scary things you hadn’t even considered yet. (What the hell is RSV??)
40. What you apparently have on your hands is a baby with a very nasty strain of flu.
41. Yes, you DID have him innoculated with the flu vaccine. Funny, right?
42. No matter. He’s going to be fine. Thank God.
43. Get released.
44. A few sleepless, barf-filled nights later, and he’s back to normal.
***Zoom!***
45. Well...relatively speaking, anyway.
(What, doesn't everyone's toddler play Upside Down Xylophone?)
Before I get to the task at hand, I have a public service announcement.
I was in the market for a new deodorant, and, as J was at the drugstore last night, I asked him to pick some up for me.Ordinarily, my deodorant purchases involve me surreptitiously clicking the deodorant base up (to raise the plastic protector thing under the cap, of course) so I can see what it will smell like. And there I stand, sneakily sniffing the myriad choices like some crazed addict in order to find the best scent. (I CAN'T BE THE ONLY PERSON WHO DOES THIS! OTHERWISE, HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU'LL LIKE THE SCENT??) Since J was already in the store, however, I decided to leave things up to him. I wouldn’t expect him to engage in the same psychotic deodorant-smelling routine that I do, so when he called me from the store rattling off some of my options, I picked one that I thought sounded nice...Asian Pear. Sounds promising, doesn’t it?
After my shower this morning, I applied the Asian Pear deodorant. “Hmm,” I thought to myself. “Smells…aggressively fruity. ”Still wanting to give it a chance (and lacking any other options, aside from borrowing some of J’s Powerful Clean Manly Man-smelling stuff), I shrugged and went out the door.
It was not unseasonably warm outside.
I did not run.
I did not sweat.
I did not engage in strenuous exercise of any kind.
And yet.
Within an hour? I REEKED.
Asian Pear and I do not mix; once on, it smells like a combination of Juicy Fruit and death.
1. I have coated my entire head in Vaseline --TRUE
A lot of you thought this was false. Oh, if you only knew.
First of all, let me just say that I was an only child for five years. You know, if that helps to explain anything.During this time, my parents allowed me to watch only PBS programming (and my beloved tape of Free to Be…You and Me). Consequently, I spent a lot of time with the good people in Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.
The armchair psychologists among you can make of this what you wish, but I adored King Friday. He lived in a castle in The Land of Make Believe! He had limitless power! People bowed down to him! It all seemed very enviable. I had a King Friday puppet that I loved; he had a plastic head, complete with a molded pageboy hairstyle, like so:
Anyway, one day when I was about 3 or 4, I strolled into the bathroom and found a tub of Vaseline. I proceeded to scoop out gobs of it with my hands, and coat MY ENTIRE HEAD with it.
My mom found me, and after nearly suffering a stroke (or so I assume), she asked me what I was doing. According to family legend, I did a little bow and said, “Mommy! I’m a KINNNNNG!” I proceeded to explain, in a 3-year old way, that I was trying to mimic the stiff, molded hairstyle of my favorite plastic puppet/Mr. Rogers character.
It took many, many washings, but my hair recovered, and let me tell you, people: my mane is SHINY. Ahead of my time, I tell you.
2. I know all the words to “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” -- FALSE
This was the lie. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve long had a habit of making up my own versions of this song. But try as I might, I’ve never been able to memorize all of the words to the song itself. I’ll be off to a strong start with “Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnny Ray…”and then despite having heard the song approximately 90 billion times, I completely blank out.
There were six of you who got this: Stefanie, Rockycat, Allison, Lara, -R-, and Squindia. I placed all of your names in a very pretty brown hat. (Oh. I have a massive hat collection.That’s probably a discussion for another day.) And the winner is…
(I took pictures of my whole random drawing process, and the hat, but I can’t find my USB cord to transfer ‘em onto the computer. You guys can trust me, right?)
Congratulations, Allison! Send me your address! :) Moving on:
3. I was at one point in my life obsessed with Blossom -- TRUE
Oh Lord, was I ever. I had the denim fishermen’s hat with the flipped up brim and fake flower. I imitated her brother Joey’s “WHOA!” catchphrase. And I memorized Blossom’s dance with Six from the show’s opening sequence. I MEMORIZED THE DANCE.
THIS DANCE:
4. When bored, I pass the time by thinking up names for an imaginary band -- TRUE
Very true. Some people doodle, some daydream. I make lists of potential band names.The RumpleFuglies (stolen from a line in Scrubs) was this afternoon’s addition.
5. I have been hit by a car --TRUE!!!
Many of you thought this was the lie. And I can’t believe that I never mentioned this before, but yes, I have in fact been hit by a car.
I spent my first year of college living halfway around the world with girls I’d never met before. We laughed, we cried, we ate our weight in fried cheese products and bread, and we drank. As you do when you’re 18 or 19, and living on your own for the first time.
Part of the program involved doing volunteer work, and one of my friends and I were assigned to work with underprivileged children. One day, on our way to visit “our” kids, we were crossing the street AT A STOP SIGN AND IN A CROSSWALK when a car rolled up.
My friend and I had been chatting about our plans for the evening, although she soon found the conversation to be quite one-sided, AS I WAS UNDERNEATH THE CAR.
The driver had been on the phone (although thankfully, he wasn’t driving very fast) and kept right on rolling through the intersection, into my person, whereupon I slid down precisely beneath the front wheels of the car.
I walked away without a scratch, which I attributed to the fact that we had been on our way to do a good deed. (Hey, I was young and idealistic. Sunshine! Rainbows! Butterflies!)
I’d like to say that my friend and I spent the afternoon reflecting upon the frailty of life, and contemplating our respective places in the universe, but if memory serves? We went out and got a beer.
*****
I can’t think of a proper closing for this post, so I’ll just say this: I’m going to one of the biggest football games of the season this Sunday (Giants/Cowboys), and I am UNREASONABLY excited. Pictures to follow. Go Blue!
Lovely weekends to you, my pretties.
(Oh, and if you have a recommendation for a functional, non-fruit scented deodorant, please pass it my way.)
Remember how I had this whole plan for NaBloPoMo? Where I’d answer some of your questions each day? For the entire month of November?
And somehow, amidst all that, I’d still find time to work, hang out with J and Toopweets, finally master the art of making tiramisu, finish the Book That Everyone Said Was Wonderful, But I Think Is Totally Overhyped, And Yet I Still Keep Trying To Get Through It, eat, sleep, and of course, practice my “Total Eclipse of The Heart” karaoke number to entertain a certain pregnant friend on bedrest? (Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that, Amaretto!)
Oops.
I’m barely keeping up with NoBloShoeMo as it is, and all that requires of me is to TAKE A PICTURE OF THE SHOES ON MY FEET. And here I actually thought I could write something every day? For a MONTH??
I clearly have a bit of a time management issue.
While I am bummed about the prospect of missing out on of the NaBloPoMo prizes, I posted every day last November, and didn’t win a blessed thing.So I’m running a contest of my own, for the diligent daily posters among you, and the slackers like myself. I haven’t done a contest in a while, so I say the timing is perfect, don't you?
I took the idea from Stefanie; and the name of the game is…
Four Truths and a Lie!
Below are five statements about me. The object is to pick out the lie among them. (Warning: It’s trickay!)A winner will be drawn at random from all correct answers and, of course, receive a prize.
1. I have coated my entire head in Vaseline.
2. I know all the words to “We Didn’t Start the Fire”.
3. I was at one point in my life obsessed with Blossom.
4. When bored, I pass the time by thinking up names for an imaginary band.
5. I have been hit by a car.
You have until the end of Thursday to submit your guesses.
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