you know you're in Georgia when all the local television ads use either race cars or hillbillies holding dogs to sell you their products. sometimes they'll use some drawl slathered slang spittin' bimbo with a diastema a mile wide.
just really classy stuff.
you know every time i hear or say the word "ultimatum" i think "old tomato" which doesn't make any sense at all. why would one give someone an old tomato? old tomatoes are good for one thing and one thing only; placing it on your buddy's chair inconspicuously so that when they sit down there is a sickening squish and they are left with a souvenier on their pants to remind them of how much you love them.
so.... i just ran my hand through my hair and a bunch of it came out. i did it again to see if maybe the last run-through was just my hair's attempt to get rid of all it's rejects in one fell swoop, but about the same amount came out the second time too. i hope my husband is into shiny and pasty scalps cuz i'm certain that that's what he'll be coming home to.
note to self... google "rogaine for women".... and possibly "effects of miracle grow on scalp of cheapskate woman cuz i hear rogaine ain't cheap".
so my goal for today was to finish getting the house ready for my in-laws who are on their way here, and to paint my fingernails. i achieved 50% of my first goal... no. i don't like how that sounds. sounds too "power point presentation". let's try again.
i epically attained a half-fail at the housework. oh well. Mister If-You-Put-Me-Down-Today-I'll-Cry-At-You-With-Such-Tears-That-You'll-Feel-Like-You-Just-Killed-Your-Pet-Unicorn comes first.
i did get the clear base-coat successfully on my right thumb though. so, 4% win?
i have been prompted to talk about Twilight in tonight's post. and just for Ri-Ri (Auntie Favorite) "oh i could talk about thith for a thouthand rethetheth". what. to say. The Books; terrific. The Movies:... meh. why couldn't they have gotten someone else to play Bella and Edward? If i could pick a different actress to play Bella it would be... Rachel McAdams. i have a HUGE lady-crush on Rachel McAdams. she's cute, she's intelligent, and you can tell that she'd be able to play a clutz sooooo much better than whats-her-face. also... sorry Rob P. you'd be replaced too. and by whom??
NEIL PATRICK MUTHA-LOVIN' HARRIS.
i thank my lucky stars and charms that the great NPH decided to come back after his post-dougie howser hiatus. that man is comedic gold. he captured my heart, my diaphragm, and often the beverage spurting forth from my nostrils. my favorite works of his include the ever so funny Saturday Night Live sketches, his Cocaine laced character on Harold and Kumar do White Castle, How I Met Your Mother, and my new favorite - Dr Horrible's Sing Along Blog.
those are my picks. what's that? what TEAM am i on? i am firmly Team Alice! that chick is hot. *sizzle sound*
ugh, i'm corny.
speaking of which. i definitely should NOT have eaten that entire pan of cornbread today. it was just so good... but now i'm paying for it. you think i would have learned from the Great CupCake Disaster of A Week Ago Or Something Like That. at least the eggs and milk are gone so i couldn't really bake anything even if i wanted to. hmm. maybe if i desperately wanted to... i mean the store is like, way over there.
and guess what? y'all get a BONUS ending segment today. You're welcome. Happy Friday.
A Few of Krista's Favorite Quotes:
1. If the Soul dances the body will follow
2. I want a shirt that says "you shot me with your butt".
3. So you're going to kill her? "just for a little while, i'll bring her right back; i promise".
4. Don't ask "can I", ask " I can"!!
5. My strong leg's name is Chuck Norris. My other leg could be a spatula for all I care.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Drive with your foot out the window. this is the ONLY way to get full use and enjoyment out of your car. in order to optimize your experience, you should stretch beforehand if possible. it is also a good idea to Wear Cool Shades as well as Pump Up Da Jamz. if you follow these simple suggestions, you will soon find yourself enveloped in what i can only describe as a Joyous Blanket of Thrills, Danger, and Potential Traffic Tickets. the latter of which can often be avoided if you happen to be a cute little lady wearing a swimsuit and not much else on your way to the beach. but only if the cop is a young lad. if he's the crotchety old man that stops you the second time that same day once you are within 5 minutes of said beach, you may not be so lucky.
but seriously, let those little piggies fly.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
the gym; a bittersweet blend of shame, pain, sweat and hope.
my son (who is a delightful 5 month old that i breastfeed) has a new trick that he showed me today. my little man decided that from now on, when he eats, he needs to sing to me. it's very sweet. he'll be wolfin' down his milk, and after every other gulp he'll give me a few notes of his new hit single "mmmmMNMMMMNNNNmmnnnnn .... hoooommmnnnnnoooooommm....".
it's going to be an international hit.
i find that it's... a bit different going to the gym now that i've had a kid and my body/skin has been stretched wafer thin, packed with fat, rode hard and put away jiggly. i find that i have to give my self a pep-talk for the duration of my stay at the gym.
what's that you say? why of course ! i'd love to play back my inner monologue for you.
"alright. dropped off the Little Man at the nursery, time to hit the machines.
what to do, what to do.
if i get on the treadmills, then i'll have two rows of people staring at my jiggles...
if i get on the ellipticals i'll get a good workout and i'll only have...4, 5, six older men forced to stare at my butt.
ellipticals it is.
sheesh, so this is what it feels like to have a heart attack.
well at least i know my sweat glands work.
i can't imagine sweating all the time every day like that chick on that Discovery Health show that i saw today
ugh, i have soooo many rolls under this tank top... all a-fluttering.
hey, you had a BABY, cut yourself some slack.
and that feeling of having a near death experience? that's cuz you haven't done anything even remotely physical for the last 14 months. that's over a year, hon.
it's ok.
aww man. everyone is staring. i feel so gross.
well, i'm married. and i have a kid. who cares if everyone thinks i look like Sasquatch with a thyroid problem?
sigh*
looking forward to the day that i can suck in my stomach and it actually sucks in instead of just bunching up.
three situps. three. that's pretty pitiful.
no, no it's not! they SLICED through your abdominal muscles, remember? i was completely severed for a while there.
that's kind of weird, i'm laying on this bench and my love handles hurt. that's such a foreign feeling. pressure on extra tissue hurts. i wonder if it hurts for other overweight/out of shape people. do i have tumors there? maybe that's why the flab hurts when i lay on it...
man, Glee is an odd and complicated little show...
alright. now that i've sweat 8 pounds off, let's collect the Angel Child and go home.
someday you'll be hot enough to get the Good Stares at the gym again.
someday."
so. oh! hey! i figured it out: that's why people hate going to the gym if they're not already in shape!! I'm an analytical genius!
10 Reasons Why I Win At Life Today:
1. my muscles are sore = i actually had a good workout.
2. i got Ronin to take an hour long nap today, and whilst he slumbered i cleaned two bathrooms, the kitchen, did laundry and picked up things around the house. Responsibility Win!
3. i did not smush any baby bunnies today. not that i do on any other day, or that i ever really could have, but the fact remains that i didn't and that means i'm awesome. and not a baby bunny slaughterer.
4. Gatorade has dubbed dancing a "sport". hooray! it's official because Gatorade has all power and authority over all things physical! a bit after the fact, but now i can claim that at once in my life i was a bonafide athlete!
5. i double as a towel. Ronin just slathered my face with a handful of his warm wet slobber. best moisturizer ever. Suck It Neutrigena!
6. i used my catlike reflexes this morning to catch Ronin's spit-up before it hit the couch. Save!!
7. i still have MOST of the jar of Nutella left. and i've had it for a whole week now. no other jar of Nutella has ever lasted this long in my house.
8. even though Ronin Ninja Peed me today and ended the Dry Streak we'd been having; he had mercy on me by not forcing me to clean up after any Armageddon-Nuclear-Holocaust-Poo Diapers.
9. i got cut off in the parking lot by two females who then had the audacity to look over and laugh at me and i totally could have informed them of the error of their ways, but i decided to be classy, take the high-road, and not scream out " you whores!!". Maturity win!
10. only two more days until i'll be able to take a nap if/when i want to!!! i'm ridiculously irrationally excited about getting bonus sleep.
it's going to be an international hit.
i find that it's... a bit different going to the gym now that i've had a kid and my body/skin has been stretched wafer thin, packed with fat, rode hard and put away jiggly. i find that i have to give my self a pep-talk for the duration of my stay at the gym.
what's that you say? why of course ! i'd love to play back my inner monologue for you.
"alright. dropped off the Little Man at the nursery, time to hit the machines.
what to do, what to do.
if i get on the treadmills, then i'll have two rows of people staring at my jiggles...
if i get on the ellipticals i'll get a good workout and i'll only have...4, 5, six older men forced to stare at my butt.
ellipticals it is.
sheesh, so this is what it feels like to have a heart attack.
well at least i know my sweat glands work.
i can't imagine sweating all the time every day like that chick on that Discovery Health show that i saw today
ugh, i have soooo many rolls under this tank top... all a-fluttering.
hey, you had a BABY, cut yourself some slack.
and that feeling of having a near death experience? that's cuz you haven't done anything even remotely physical for the last 14 months. that's over a year, hon.
it's ok.
aww man. everyone is staring. i feel so gross.
well, i'm married. and i have a kid. who cares if everyone thinks i look like Sasquatch with a thyroid problem?
sigh*
looking forward to the day that i can suck in my stomach and it actually sucks in instead of just bunching up.
three situps. three. that's pretty pitiful.
no, no it's not! they SLICED through your abdominal muscles, remember? i was completely severed for a while there.
that's kind of weird, i'm laying on this bench and my love handles hurt. that's such a foreign feeling. pressure on extra tissue hurts. i wonder if it hurts for other overweight/out of shape people. do i have tumors there? maybe that's why the flab hurts when i lay on it...
man, Glee is an odd and complicated little show...
alright. now that i've sweat 8 pounds off, let's collect the Angel Child and go home.
someday you'll be hot enough to get the Good Stares at the gym again.
someday."
so. oh! hey! i figured it out: that's why people hate going to the gym if they're not already in shape!! I'm an analytical genius!
10 Reasons Why I Win At Life Today:
1. my muscles are sore = i actually had a good workout.
2. i got Ronin to take an hour long nap today, and whilst he slumbered i cleaned two bathrooms, the kitchen, did laundry and picked up things around the house. Responsibility Win!
3. i did not smush any baby bunnies today. not that i do on any other day, or that i ever really could have, but the fact remains that i didn't and that means i'm awesome. and not a baby bunny slaughterer.
4. Gatorade has dubbed dancing a "sport". hooray! it's official because Gatorade has all power and authority over all things physical! a bit after the fact, but now i can claim that at once in my life i was a bonafide athlete!
5. i double as a towel. Ronin just slathered my face with a handful of his warm wet slobber. best moisturizer ever. Suck It Neutrigena!
6. i used my catlike reflexes this morning to catch Ronin's spit-up before it hit the couch. Save!!
7. i still have MOST of the jar of Nutella left. and i've had it for a whole week now. no other jar of Nutella has ever lasted this long in my house.
8. even though Ronin Ninja Peed me today and ended the Dry Streak we'd been having; he had mercy on me by not forcing me to clean up after any Armageddon-Nuclear-Holocaust-Poo Diapers.
9. i got cut off in the parking lot by two females who then had the audacity to look over and laugh at me and i totally could have informed them of the error of their ways, but i decided to be classy, take the high-road, and not scream out " you whores!!". Maturity win!
10. only two more days until i'll be able to take a nap if/when i want to!!! i'm ridiculously irrationally excited about getting bonus sleep.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Huge Announcement of Success!!!
I now have 10 whole followers on Blogger!! Huzzah! I've finally achieved something. I officially have "done something with" my life.
also.
i shall soon be bald; my hair is falling out.
well as far as i can tell. i mean, i find it everywhere. on my bed, on my pillow, on my clothes, in Ronin's hands (because he pulls it out), everywhere.
i think i could rock being bald. although i do have some fairly gnarly scars. just give me some spray paint, a couple sheets of stickers, maybe some rhinestones and glue and i'm set.
speaking of scars, i sustained another brutal emotional scar yesterday.
i might have mentioned once or twice that lately my son's farts are like an Armageddon to my sense of smell, and yesterday was no exception. and i knew it was only a matter of time until the lethal flatulence would give way to disaster and i'd have to throw my Hazmat suit on and deal with a Nuclear-Poop-Holocaust-Diaper.
yesterday at 3pm he struck, and he shot to kill.
after several of what i naively assumed were "farts", i had decided to bring him upstairs and change his diaper. i unbuttoned his onsie and caught the haunting aroma of baby-stench and gave a little dry heave. it had leaked out the side of the diaper, all over his back and down his legs. (insert music from Psycho here)
the next 20 minutes was a blur of tears, flailing arms and legs, aggravated pleas as i tried to keep his fingers from grabbing all the nastiness, poo streaks everywhere, oodles and oodles of soiled wet wipes, and a triumphant 5 month old splashing about in the tub looking smug.
good times. this boy is so fun. he definitely takes after his daddy, The Destroyer.
example.
right now he's by my side on the couch and pulling the blanket over his face in an effort to smother himself.
and i, like the trained monkey i am, keep having to snatch it off of his face, which he thinks is HilARioUs. ah, what a fun life i lead!
even my cats are in rare form this week. at night, specifically after midnight when i'm done feeding them (throwback!) they turn into monsters that howl at the bedroom door where Ronin and i are trying to sleep. they cry louder and louder as they attempt to claw their way through the wood or dig their way under it through the carpet.
i've never had eggplant. i think i've reached the point in my life where i'm brave enough to try it.
bet you didn't see that one coming, didja?
10 Reasons Why I Win At Life Today:
1. I am not a hamster. therefore, I do not have to choose between a toaster, a cardboard box, a washing machine, and a Kia as my mode of transportation.
2. I lost another pound!! only (ugh) 19 more to go.
3. I still haven't made any apple cobbler. If I can just keep from baking then maybe I'll be able to get the rest of this baby weight off.
4. I did not turn into a hippie, a nazi, a facist, or a Jersey Shore Snookie character today. Ultra win.
5. I took a shower!! I even pushed back my cuticles! HYGIENE WIN!
6. I uploaded 51 new pictures of my perfect handsome son to my FB page. You're welcome, Earth.
7. I did half of a leg workout. In other words, Left Leg = Strong. Right Leg = ...meh.
8. I won at your MOM last night!! OOOOHhhhhh!! Sick Burn!
9. So You Think You Can Dance on TV + Not Being Blind + Not Being Deaf = a recipe for a sexy evening. Team Kent/Lauren!!!
10. I haven't been Ninja Peed on in a whole month!!!!!!!!!!
as always, thanks for stopping by. show the love; leave a comment, feel free to give suggestions/topics, come back any time. I love my readers!!
also.
i shall soon be bald; my hair is falling out.
well as far as i can tell. i mean, i find it everywhere. on my bed, on my pillow, on my clothes, in Ronin's hands (because he pulls it out), everywhere.
i think i could rock being bald. although i do have some fairly gnarly scars. just give me some spray paint, a couple sheets of stickers, maybe some rhinestones and glue and i'm set.
speaking of scars, i sustained another brutal emotional scar yesterday.
i might have mentioned once or twice that lately my son's farts are like an Armageddon to my sense of smell, and yesterday was no exception. and i knew it was only a matter of time until the lethal flatulence would give way to disaster and i'd have to throw my Hazmat suit on and deal with a Nuclear-Poop-Holocaust-Diaper.
yesterday at 3pm he struck, and he shot to kill.
after several of what i naively assumed were "farts", i had decided to bring him upstairs and change his diaper. i unbuttoned his onsie and caught the haunting aroma of baby-stench and gave a little dry heave. it had leaked out the side of the diaper, all over his back and down his legs. (insert music from Psycho here)
the next 20 minutes was a blur of tears, flailing arms and legs, aggravated pleas as i tried to keep his fingers from grabbing all the nastiness, poo streaks everywhere, oodles and oodles of soiled wet wipes, and a triumphant 5 month old splashing about in the tub looking smug.
good times. this boy is so fun. he definitely takes after his daddy, The Destroyer.
example.
right now he's by my side on the couch and pulling the blanket over his face in an effort to smother himself.
and i, like the trained monkey i am, keep having to snatch it off of his face, which he thinks is HilARioUs. ah, what a fun life i lead!
even my cats are in rare form this week. at night, specifically after midnight when i'm done feeding them (throwback!) they turn into monsters that howl at the bedroom door where Ronin and i are trying to sleep. they cry louder and louder as they attempt to claw their way through the wood or dig their way under it through the carpet.
i've never had eggplant. i think i've reached the point in my life where i'm brave enough to try it.
bet you didn't see that one coming, didja?
10 Reasons Why I Win At Life Today:
1. I am not a hamster. therefore, I do not have to choose between a toaster, a cardboard box, a washing machine, and a Kia as my mode of transportation.
2. I lost another pound!! only (ugh) 19 more to go.
3. I still haven't made any apple cobbler. If I can just keep from baking then maybe I'll be able to get the rest of this baby weight off.
4. I did not turn into a hippie, a nazi, a facist, or a Jersey Shore Snookie character today. Ultra win.
5. I took a shower!! I even pushed back my cuticles! HYGIENE WIN!
6. I uploaded 51 new pictures of my perfect handsome son to my FB page. You're welcome, Earth.
7. I did half of a leg workout. In other words, Left Leg = Strong. Right Leg = ...meh.
8. I won at your MOM last night!! OOOOHhhhhh!! Sick Burn!
9. So You Think You Can Dance on TV + Not Being Blind + Not Being Deaf = a recipe for a sexy evening. Team Kent/Lauren!!!
10. I haven't been Ninja Peed on in a whole month!!!!!!!!!!
as always, thanks for stopping by. show the love; leave a comment, feel free to give suggestions/topics, come back any time. I love my readers!!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Dear Food Network,
You have done a beautiful thing; you have achieved an amazing sense of balance. Thank you for the last two hours of Amazing Cakes and Cupcake Wars, sprinkled with 20 second ads for Weight Watchers. You sure know how to keep my jiggly butt in check. Every time you go to commercial, and i get off of the couch to go start making an apple cobbler, I hear Jennifer Hudson talking about how she lost weight and how i can "be a winner too". So I hang my head, swallow my disappointment at the lack of sugar in my system, and begrudgingly leave the kitchen un-cobblered.
Gratefully,
Krista
Dear Gay Best Friend,
Where are you? We should DEFINITELY hang out more than we do now, which is never. I need someone to go to chick flicks with me and my girlfriends that can be a force to be reckoned with should we run into hooligans, who also won't be checking out my swollen Mama-Rack every 2 seconds. Also, let's go see Lady Gaga together; I have a HUGE lady-crush on her.
Love!
Krista
Dear Kitty Litter,
Uggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Why on earth do you have to be so gross and disgusting? How many years have cats been domesticated now? That's right. Seventy billion. So why don't we have a non-smelly super hybrid variety of kitty litter? My son stinks the house up enough on his own, I REALLY don't need your help. Also, stop getting stuck to my cat's feet because giving my cats baths to get rid of their "poop feet" only results in pissed off kitties and the loss of several pints of my blood. And I need my blood. I made it myself.
Please stop sucking so much,
Krista
Dear Starbucks,
You have inspired me to find a new vocation in life. I am going to become a very specific kind of thief. One day I will don my black ski mask and black leather catsuit, caution to the wind, fashion sense be damned, and I will sneak into your store in the wee hours of the night and steal all of your delicious secrets to scrumptious coffee treats. Thank you for showing me a new path to follow and transforming me into a hardened criminal with a very specific goal. Motivation and direction are everything and I owe mine to you.
Sneakily,
Krista
Dear Vacuum Cleaner,
No. No sir.
~Krista
Dear 76 Year Old Man on America's Got Talent,
Dude. no one wants to see you strip. Specifically no one wants to see those pasties/tassels on your man-boobs. Now, the diaper under the mustard yellow boxers was a nice touch, and the knee brace endearing, but nobody is Ever ready for that much body hair. Especially if they are feeding their child, look up, see you and scream. Milk goes everywhere, the angel baby cries, and it takes 17 points off of the night's Relaxation Factor. Fix yo'self.
Sincerely,
Krista
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. my kid has ADD. i'm fairly certain of it.
2. i still want to make apple cobbler. take that Jennifer Hudson!
3. my readers are the absolute BEST.
4. nobody looks good in a unitard. well, maybe Uma Thurman, my alter ego and, somehow simultaneously, girlfriend.
5. i think that my bladder thinks i'm pregnant again. either that or i need to go on "old lady leaky pipe" medication.
6. olives are delicious. when i was little, i'd put them on the ends of my fingertips to eat them, and i'd drink the juice that they were packed in the can with. ok, maybe i was a bit of and odd child.
7. i also ate ketchup sandwiches. which is exactly what it sounds like. ketchup and bread. ok, so maybe we were a tad poor when i was a child.
8. this stupid storm is ruining my evening. i had big plans to..... ok i had no plans. Fine. keep raining and scaring my baby.
9. my cat knocked my ring off of the counter when i was washing my hands and it broke. FMLPSITAWNRA.
10. I WIN AT LIFE!!!!
You have done a beautiful thing; you have achieved an amazing sense of balance. Thank you for the last two hours of Amazing Cakes and Cupcake Wars, sprinkled with 20 second ads for Weight Watchers. You sure know how to keep my jiggly butt in check. Every time you go to commercial, and i get off of the couch to go start making an apple cobbler, I hear Jennifer Hudson talking about how she lost weight and how i can "be a winner too". So I hang my head, swallow my disappointment at the lack of sugar in my system, and begrudgingly leave the kitchen un-cobblered.
Gratefully,
Krista
Dear Gay Best Friend,
Where are you? We should DEFINITELY hang out more than we do now, which is never. I need someone to go to chick flicks with me and my girlfriends that can be a force to be reckoned with should we run into hooligans, who also won't be checking out my swollen Mama-Rack every 2 seconds. Also, let's go see Lady Gaga together; I have a HUGE lady-crush on her.
Love!
Krista
Dear Kitty Litter,
Uggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Why on earth do you have to be so gross and disgusting? How many years have cats been domesticated now? That's right. Seventy billion. So why don't we have a non-smelly super hybrid variety of kitty litter? My son stinks the house up enough on his own, I REALLY don't need your help. Also, stop getting stuck to my cat's feet because giving my cats baths to get rid of their "poop feet" only results in pissed off kitties and the loss of several pints of my blood. And I need my blood. I made it myself.
Please stop sucking so much,
Krista
Dear Starbucks,
You have inspired me to find a new vocation in life. I am going to become a very specific kind of thief. One day I will don my black ski mask and black leather catsuit, caution to the wind, fashion sense be damned, and I will sneak into your store in the wee hours of the night and steal all of your delicious secrets to scrumptious coffee treats. Thank you for showing me a new path to follow and transforming me into a hardened criminal with a very specific goal. Motivation and direction are everything and I owe mine to you.
Sneakily,
Krista
Dear Vacuum Cleaner,
No. No sir.
~Krista
Dear 76 Year Old Man on America's Got Talent,
Dude. no one wants to see you strip. Specifically no one wants to see those pasties/tassels on your man-boobs. Now, the diaper under the mustard yellow boxers was a nice touch, and the knee brace endearing, but nobody is Ever ready for that much body hair. Especially if they are feeding their child, look up, see you and scream. Milk goes everywhere, the angel baby cries, and it takes 17 points off of the night's Relaxation Factor. Fix yo'self.
Sincerely,
Krista
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. my kid has ADD. i'm fairly certain of it.
2. i still want to make apple cobbler. take that Jennifer Hudson!
3. my readers are the absolute BEST.
4. nobody looks good in a unitard. well, maybe Uma Thurman, my alter ego and, somehow simultaneously, girlfriend.
5. i think that my bladder thinks i'm pregnant again. either that or i need to go on "old lady leaky pipe" medication.
6. olives are delicious. when i was little, i'd put them on the ends of my fingertips to eat them, and i'd drink the juice that they were packed in the can with. ok, maybe i was a bit of and odd child.
7. i also ate ketchup sandwiches. which is exactly what it sounds like. ketchup and bread. ok, so maybe we were a tad poor when i was a child.
8. this stupid storm is ruining my evening. i had big plans to..... ok i had no plans. Fine. keep raining and scaring my baby.
9. my cat knocked my ring off of the counter when i was washing my hands and it broke. FMLPSITAWNRA.
10. I WIN AT LIFE!!!!
letters to random objects/nouns.
Dear Polka Dot,
how did you get your name? are you the official fabric print of the Polka Dance/Music scene? who decided that monotonous repitition of dime-sized circles would be a good idea and a fierce (to be said with a lisp) fashion statement? quite frankly, i've never understood your allure. your origins are unclear and puzzle me to no end. i don't even think that wikipedia knows where you came from. did you spring from Zeus's head too?
Quizzically,
Krista
Dear Ponder,
thanks for being my favorite word today. you always make me feel just a tad fancier when you come trickling out of my mouth. although, i often feel underdressed when i say you. you always seem to catch me in my mis-matched pajamas with extreme unintentional bedhead and bad breath when i feel like i should be wearing a tweed blazer, cropped riding pants and a monocle when i attempt to slip you into my conversations. please forgive my redneckedness. continue being awesome.
all the best,
Krista
Dear Ronin's Gastrointestinal System,
what the hell????? you produce the most disgusting blend of noxious gases that i have ever been unfortunate enough to be forced to inhale. i nearly puked twice today because of you. know that i am not mad; i simply just wish you would get out your scissors and cut me some slack. dear God do you know how to clear out a room. the only problem is that you're infused in my son and i cannot leave the room without him so i am doomed to be subjected to your foulness. however, if it's a choice between my angel child's farts and his full-body masking poop explosions, i'll take the farts hands down.
respectfully,
Krista
Dear cupcakes,
it had to end. i know that you love me, and that you'll always be there for me in case i decide to change my mind and fulfill my potential as well as the entire couch and transform myself into a 600 pound woman. i'm sorry for pushing you away and cheating on you with corn bread, but i have to do what i have to do; i need to take baby steps away from you and towards the multigrain-disgust-o bread that society tells me will make my bowel movements more regular and my pants slide more easily over my enlarged rump (because it will be less rotund). i didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or make you cry. i don't blame you for running back to your precious Soy Milk. he was always good to both of us.
tenderly,
Krista
Dear Bathroom Scale;
i know that you and i have had our differences, and that we've talked about this before, but i really expected some change by now. you have got to be the most stubborn piece of equipment that i have ever purchased. your days are numbered my friend. i don't need you. you're an enabler of my self loathing and a "luxury" albeit an unwelcome one and i won't hesitate to snatch you up and bitch-slap you into the dumpster if you don't shape up and show me what i want to see. you have toyed with my emotions for long enough and i demand a reformation or so help me Oprah i will see you made into scrap metal and then used for some homeless crazy guy's Alien Summoning Super Laser.
gauntlet thrown,
Krista
Dear VH1,
thanks for showing me that marathon of "you've been cut off you self-righteous princess" program today. you're right, i do feel better about myself. keep up the good work.
fondly,
Krista
Dear Downstairs bathroom,
how is it possible that you did NOT smell before i cleaned you, and now there's an odd urine smell hanging in your midst? am I in a parallel universe? have i become the victim of one of your classic practical jokes? dude, i thought we were bros.
what gives?
Krista
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. there is too such a thing as too much Nutella. i cannot divulge how much is too much, though, as we must all discover our limits. namaste.
2. i must guard my turkey deli meat slices more diligently. i nearly lost a dear comrade to my clever fuzzy food nemesis Mischief.
3. my left eye is lazy. it must be. my right eye is definitely trying harder at this whole "vision" thing cuz even with contacts while my right eye sees things spot-on, my left eye lets me see the world as if i'm peering through a pool of murky muck-sand-oil-water. come on Left Eye, get a job. no disrespect, TLC.
4. what do penguin feathers look like? i mean, do they have feathers? cuz in Happy Feet they looked all smooth and .... skin-y. i'd like a headdress made of penguin feathers. my birthday is coming up after all.
5. my birthday's coming up.... hmm. 26. i might as well be turning 40.
6. six thoughts is good enough tonight. i can't be expected to come up with 10 WHOLE thoughts every night. not with this much air circulating around my lobes.
how did you get your name? are you the official fabric print of the Polka Dance/Music scene? who decided that monotonous repitition of dime-sized circles would be a good idea and a fierce (to be said with a lisp) fashion statement? quite frankly, i've never understood your allure. your origins are unclear and puzzle me to no end. i don't even think that wikipedia knows where you came from. did you spring from Zeus's head too?
Quizzically,
Krista
Dear Ponder,
thanks for being my favorite word today. you always make me feel just a tad fancier when you come trickling out of my mouth. although, i often feel underdressed when i say you. you always seem to catch me in my mis-matched pajamas with extreme unintentional bedhead and bad breath when i feel like i should be wearing a tweed blazer, cropped riding pants and a monocle when i attempt to slip you into my conversations. please forgive my redneckedness. continue being awesome.
all the best,
Krista
Dear Ronin's Gastrointestinal System,
what the hell????? you produce the most disgusting blend of noxious gases that i have ever been unfortunate enough to be forced to inhale. i nearly puked twice today because of you. know that i am not mad; i simply just wish you would get out your scissors and cut me some slack. dear God do you know how to clear out a room. the only problem is that you're infused in my son and i cannot leave the room without him so i am doomed to be subjected to your foulness. however, if it's a choice between my angel child's farts and his full-body masking poop explosions, i'll take the farts hands down.
respectfully,
Krista
Dear cupcakes,
it had to end. i know that you love me, and that you'll always be there for me in case i decide to change my mind and fulfill my potential as well as the entire couch and transform myself into a 600 pound woman. i'm sorry for pushing you away and cheating on you with corn bread, but i have to do what i have to do; i need to take baby steps away from you and towards the multigrain-disgust-o bread that society tells me will make my bowel movements more regular and my pants slide more easily over my enlarged rump (because it will be less rotund). i didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or make you cry. i don't blame you for running back to your precious Soy Milk. he was always good to both of us.
tenderly,
Krista
Dear Bathroom Scale;
i know that you and i have had our differences, and that we've talked about this before, but i really expected some change by now. you have got to be the most stubborn piece of equipment that i have ever purchased. your days are numbered my friend. i don't need you. you're an enabler of my self loathing and a "luxury" albeit an unwelcome one and i won't hesitate to snatch you up and bitch-slap you into the dumpster if you don't shape up and show me what i want to see. you have toyed with my emotions for long enough and i demand a reformation or so help me Oprah i will see you made into scrap metal and then used for some homeless crazy guy's Alien Summoning Super Laser.
gauntlet thrown,
Krista
Dear VH1,
thanks for showing me that marathon of "you've been cut off you self-righteous princess" program today. you're right, i do feel better about myself. keep up the good work.
fondly,
Krista
Dear Downstairs bathroom,
how is it possible that you did NOT smell before i cleaned you, and now there's an odd urine smell hanging in your midst? am I in a parallel universe? have i become the victim of one of your classic practical jokes? dude, i thought we were bros.
what gives?
Krista
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. there is too such a thing as too much Nutella. i cannot divulge how much is too much, though, as we must all discover our limits. namaste.
2. i must guard my turkey deli meat slices more diligently. i nearly lost a dear comrade to my clever fuzzy food nemesis Mischief.
3. my left eye is lazy. it must be. my right eye is definitely trying harder at this whole "vision" thing cuz even with contacts while my right eye sees things spot-on, my left eye lets me see the world as if i'm peering through a pool of murky muck-sand-oil-water. come on Left Eye, get a job. no disrespect, TLC.
4. what do penguin feathers look like? i mean, do they have feathers? cuz in Happy Feet they looked all smooth and .... skin-y. i'd like a headdress made of penguin feathers. my birthday is coming up after all.
5. my birthday's coming up.... hmm. 26. i might as well be turning 40.
6. six thoughts is good enough tonight. i can't be expected to come up with 10 WHOLE thoughts every night. not with this much air circulating around my lobes.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
the pros and cons of getting high accidentally.
lots of kids in high school were into all kinds of things that society frowns upon. drugs, alcohol, ritualistic animal sacrifices, you know. typical rebellious teenage stuff.
not me. what was i into? dancing, music, and being naive.
and oh what a blissful life it was.
i only accidentally "got into drugs" twice as a teenager. i had two very very different experiences.
The Happy Feel Good Positive Side of Accidental Highs:
once upon a time when i was 16 or 17 or something like that my parents gave my younger sister and i the task of painting the walls of the lower story of their two story house. i can't speak for Savannah, but I was excited. i love to paint! earlier that summer i had painted my room light blue with sponge-painted white, fluffy clouds everywhere. also i may have spray painted my name on the bottom of one of the walls with inconspicuous purple glitter paint.
anyway. back to the story.
so we set off getting it done. first we painted the living room; a few blue walls, a few yellow walls... no problem. piece of cake. we had a great time. then we tackled the hallways and the stairs. we were several days into our painting project and it was at this point that our conversations took a turn for the weird.
as we were coating the walls of the entryway, we found ourselves discussing what kind of "inner tree" that we had. Savannah decided that she must have an Inner Banana Tree (obviously... Savannah Banana), but with an Inner Inner Coconute Tree (to account for the loopy and crazy aspects of her personality). And the Inner Inner Coconut Tree had decided that the Inner Banana Tree was its nemesis.
we decided that in lou of an Inner Tree, i must have an Inner Bush. an Inner Herbal Essences Bush. why you ask? well, it's a bush because of my diminuitive stature, and it was an Herbal Essences Bush because we had gone to the store for... something... and during our outing i had smelled some Herbal Essences body wash with a tad too much enthusiasm, and some of it had leapt out of the bottle and onto my shirt. my solution to the bottle's expression of jubilation was to try and rub the soap into the fabric of my shirt and hope nobody noticed. they noticed.
by about Day 8 of our Painting Adventure, we still hadn't figured out that we needed to open the windows for fresh air, and the Paint Fume Situation was becoming dire. we were on our last room, the computer/sewing room, and the work was crawling at a nearly immobile pace. the proverbial "fly on the wall" would have witnessed two teenage girls, splattered in pink and purple paint, slowly running paint rollers up and down the walls, giggling quietly to themselves over nothing at all.... like mad women.
the Painting Adventure ended with my sister, my bestie Jessica, Tash and i all piled in my car, paint on our legs, legs out our windows, rolling around town, singing waaaaaaaaaaay too loud to the popular boy band songs of the day, and attempting to walk through the drive through of the Jack-In-The-Box (TM) to no avail. there may or may not have been sparatic shouts about Skippy Peanut Butter (TM) and toilet paper as we drove too.
moral of the story; make sure to cra.... well, no. it was actually kind of fun. so if you're not too concerned about impairing a few brain cells, then keep the windows closed next time you paint. IT'S JUST SO MUCH FUN!!!
The Frightening Near Death Experience Rendering Down-Side of Getting High Accidentally:
the day started off fairly uneventfully. i got up in the morning and my legs hurt really really bad. this was quasi normal for me, but i didn't have time to stretch and baby them so i went to the medicine cabinet. my mom usually took Excedrin (TM) for her headaches, so i figured if they worked for a headache, then they'd sure work for my excrutiatingly painful legs. so i took two.
insert forboding music here.
the night before i had made a strawberry cake for my bestie Ashley. i brought it to school, gingerly set it in my locker, and proceeded to my first period class; Health. irony.
during class, my legs were feeling better. life was good. all was right in the world.... and then... my stomach started feeling weird... and it felt like my pulse was elevated just a bit. something was... off.
at the end of class, Adam caught me at the door and walked with me to second period (with a pit stop to get Ashley's cake). i must have been looking pale because he asked what was wrong.
i didn't know... i just knew that i felt... funky.
i got to second period, english class, gave Ashley her cake, wished her happy birthday and sat down at my desk with my palms flat on the surface. class started. then about five minutes later Shit Got Weird.
i noticed that my right hand was... twitching, ever so slightly. this quickly escalated to a full on shake. then my left hand joined in.
Inner Monologue (IM): Holy Crap... that's kind of weird.
then both legs began shaking uncontrollably and my face went numb. tears started flowing down my cheeks for no discernable reason. i was really starting to freak out.
IM: OH-MY-GOD-WHAT-IS-WRONG-WITH-ME-WHY-IS-MY-BODY-SEIZING-LIKE-THIS-OH-GOD-I'M-GONNA-DIE!
it was at this point that my friends and teacher took notice.
friends and teacher: Krista what's wrong? what's going on?
me: (laughing and crying and shaking like a salt shaker) I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW! HELP ME!!
Ashley and another girl got on either side of me to support me and started helping me down to the nurse's office. and thaaaaaaaaaaaat's when my legs went numb. they kind of just dragged me the rest of the way as i cried/laughed/convulsed.
at the nurse's office she started asking me what i'd been doing that morning and if i'd taken anything. i told her through my tears about the two excedrin. and then i promptly toppled over. my back had gone numb. oh joy.
the nurse laid me out on one of the beds so that i could flop about more comfortably. i was now only subject to the seizing and the water works as i was terrified that i might die and it wasn't funny. they called my dad to come pick me up. apparently since i didn't ever have caffeine i had overdosed. which makes sense considering that i had taken the equivalent of two whole coffee pots' worth of it .
anywho i got home, got over the shakes, got a HUGE BUZZ, cleaned the house, weeded, edged, weed-whacked and mowed the lawn.
i slept like a rock that night.
let's just say that i should never do Acid. or Meth. especially since this was just from CAFFEINE.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. i'm terrified of my first post-partum Period. i imagine it hiding in the bushes, ready to spring, just waiting for me to be wearing light colored pants and for me to get more than twenty minutes away from my house... the horror.
2. my kitten is either the most laid back kitten in the world, or she's dumber than a booger on the sidewalk because every time she gets near Ronin he pulls out a fistful of her fur and she just keeps coming back for more.
3. you should never throw your cheeseballs in a fit of rage. they are delicious and it's just a shame and a waste.
4. real crack is whack, but Emotional Crack? well i NEED my emotional crack.
5. i'm a first time mother. ergo i get a Free Pass To Be As Neurotic As I Want To Be.
6. normally urine and vomit = gross. but Baby Urine/Vomit? not so gross. in fact, it's sometimes cute, even funny.
7. sometimes a massage is a need and not a want.
8. my wedding ring has a drool/rice cereal/spit-up coating on it.
9. dude. i need a shower like whoa.
10. it bothers me when people confuse "breath" with "breathe" and "yeah" with "yay" and "yea".
not me. what was i into? dancing, music, and being naive.
and oh what a blissful life it was.
i only accidentally "got into drugs" twice as a teenager. i had two very very different experiences.
The Happy Feel Good Positive Side of Accidental Highs:
once upon a time when i was 16 or 17 or something like that my parents gave my younger sister and i the task of painting the walls of the lower story of their two story house. i can't speak for Savannah, but I was excited. i love to paint! earlier that summer i had painted my room light blue with sponge-painted white, fluffy clouds everywhere. also i may have spray painted my name on the bottom of one of the walls with inconspicuous purple glitter paint.
anyway. back to the story.
so we set off getting it done. first we painted the living room; a few blue walls, a few yellow walls... no problem. piece of cake. we had a great time. then we tackled the hallways and the stairs. we were several days into our painting project and it was at this point that our conversations took a turn for the weird.
as we were coating the walls of the entryway, we found ourselves discussing what kind of "inner tree" that we had. Savannah decided that she must have an Inner Banana Tree (obviously... Savannah Banana), but with an Inner Inner Coconute Tree (to account for the loopy and crazy aspects of her personality). And the Inner Inner Coconut Tree had decided that the Inner Banana Tree was its nemesis.
we decided that in lou of an Inner Tree, i must have an Inner Bush. an Inner Herbal Essences Bush. why you ask? well, it's a bush because of my diminuitive stature, and it was an Herbal Essences Bush because we had gone to the store for... something... and during our outing i had smelled some Herbal Essences body wash with a tad too much enthusiasm, and some of it had leapt out of the bottle and onto my shirt. my solution to the bottle's expression of jubilation was to try and rub the soap into the fabric of my shirt and hope nobody noticed. they noticed.
by about Day 8 of our Painting Adventure, we still hadn't figured out that we needed to open the windows for fresh air, and the Paint Fume Situation was becoming dire. we were on our last room, the computer/sewing room, and the work was crawling at a nearly immobile pace. the proverbial "fly on the wall" would have witnessed two teenage girls, splattered in pink and purple paint, slowly running paint rollers up and down the walls, giggling quietly to themselves over nothing at all.... like mad women.
the Painting Adventure ended with my sister, my bestie Jessica, Tash and i all piled in my car, paint on our legs, legs out our windows, rolling around town, singing waaaaaaaaaaay too loud to the popular boy band songs of the day, and attempting to walk through the drive through of the Jack-In-The-Box (TM) to no avail. there may or may not have been sparatic shouts about Skippy Peanut Butter (TM) and toilet paper as we drove too.
moral of the story; make sure to cra.... well, no. it was actually kind of fun. so if you're not too concerned about impairing a few brain cells, then keep the windows closed next time you paint. IT'S JUST SO MUCH FUN!!!
The Frightening Near Death Experience Rendering Down-Side of Getting High Accidentally:
the day started off fairly uneventfully. i got up in the morning and my legs hurt really really bad. this was quasi normal for me, but i didn't have time to stretch and baby them so i went to the medicine cabinet. my mom usually took Excedrin (TM) for her headaches, so i figured if they worked for a headache, then they'd sure work for my excrutiatingly painful legs. so i took two.
insert forboding music here.
the night before i had made a strawberry cake for my bestie Ashley. i brought it to school, gingerly set it in my locker, and proceeded to my first period class; Health. irony.
during class, my legs were feeling better. life was good. all was right in the world.... and then... my stomach started feeling weird... and it felt like my pulse was elevated just a bit. something was... off.
at the end of class, Adam caught me at the door and walked with me to second period (with a pit stop to get Ashley's cake). i must have been looking pale because he asked what was wrong.
i didn't know... i just knew that i felt... funky.
i got to second period, english class, gave Ashley her cake, wished her happy birthday and sat down at my desk with my palms flat on the surface. class started. then about five minutes later Shit Got Weird.
i noticed that my right hand was... twitching, ever so slightly. this quickly escalated to a full on shake. then my left hand joined in.
Inner Monologue (IM): Holy Crap... that's kind of weird.
then both legs began shaking uncontrollably and my face went numb. tears started flowing down my cheeks for no discernable reason. i was really starting to freak out.
IM: OH-MY-GOD-WHAT-IS-WRONG-WITH-ME-WHY-IS-MY-BODY-SEIZING-LIKE-THIS-OH-GOD-I'M-GONNA-DIE!
it was at this point that my friends and teacher took notice.
friends and teacher: Krista what's wrong? what's going on?
me: (laughing and crying and shaking like a salt shaker) I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW! HELP ME!!
Ashley and another girl got on either side of me to support me and started helping me down to the nurse's office. and thaaaaaaaaaaaat's when my legs went numb. they kind of just dragged me the rest of the way as i cried/laughed/convulsed.
at the nurse's office she started asking me what i'd been doing that morning and if i'd taken anything. i told her through my tears about the two excedrin. and then i promptly toppled over. my back had gone numb. oh joy.
the nurse laid me out on one of the beds so that i could flop about more comfortably. i was now only subject to the seizing and the water works as i was terrified that i might die and it wasn't funny. they called my dad to come pick me up. apparently since i didn't ever have caffeine i had overdosed. which makes sense considering that i had taken the equivalent of two whole coffee pots' worth of it .
anywho i got home, got over the shakes, got a HUGE BUZZ, cleaned the house, weeded, edged, weed-whacked and mowed the lawn.
i slept like a rock that night.
let's just say that i should never do Acid. or Meth. especially since this was just from CAFFEINE.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
1. i'm terrified of my first post-partum Period. i imagine it hiding in the bushes, ready to spring, just waiting for me to be wearing light colored pants and for me to get more than twenty minutes away from my house... the horror.
2. my kitten is either the most laid back kitten in the world, or she's dumber than a booger on the sidewalk because every time she gets near Ronin he pulls out a fistful of her fur and she just keeps coming back for more.
3. you should never throw your cheeseballs in a fit of rage. they are delicious and it's just a shame and a waste.
4. real crack is whack, but Emotional Crack? well i NEED my emotional crack.
5. i'm a first time mother. ergo i get a Free Pass To Be As Neurotic As I Want To Be.
6. normally urine and vomit = gross. but Baby Urine/Vomit? not so gross. in fact, it's sometimes cute, even funny.
7. sometimes a massage is a need and not a want.
8. my wedding ring has a drool/rice cereal/spit-up coating on it.
9. dude. i need a shower like whoa.
10. it bothers me when people confuse "breath" with "breathe" and "yeah" with "yay" and "yea".
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Georgia wants me to be fat.
i've said it before and i'll say it again; Georgia is the most backwards state that i've ever had the displeasure of living in. it's like the entire state is hell-bent on reversing the evolution and growth of Man.
example.
Friday morning i went to the local YMCA to sign up. i gained a tad bit too much weight when i was pregnant (went from 126 lbs to 202 lbs.... oops. damn you taco bell!!) and i was really excited to get back to the gym and get rid of the JELL-O (tm) that still lurks beneath my surfaces and makes me all jibbly and gross.
yes, jibbly.
but i digress. i went, signed up, then figured i'd go home, feed my darling son, change into Sweatin' to the Oldies gear, then head back and get my burn on.
and it was a great plan up until i got back to the YMCA. i was informed that i was an hour too late for the nursery; they had closed at 1pm and didn't open back up until 4pm. no problem. i went home, played with my Slimeysaurus, fed/changed him, then at 4pm got everything ready to go back to the gym. nothing would stop me now!!
i opened up my front door.
monsoon.
flooding.
apocalyptic downpour.
and a touch of wind.
this is where i got discouraged. i closed the door, turned around, got the baby out of his bucket (car seat), and decided to try again in an hour if the rain let up.
it did.
so i did.
i FINALLY get to the gym, the nursery was open, dropped off the smiling angel child, and went and gave myself a good old fashioned whooping.
i sweat so much that if someone had collected it as it plummeted from my body, it would have been enough to drown a whale.
think about it.
the moral of the story is: the Universe and Georgia teamed up to try and keep me from losing my lard, but i gave them a spanking and came out victorious. though very very sore. perhaps i should not have tried to lose all the weight at once after doing next to nothing in the "exercise" department for 14 months.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
*a new segment in which i just purge my brain of the thoughts racing around so that i can go to sleep*
1. it's kind of creepy when a guy compliments my boobs, but it feels WONDERFUL when one of my girlfriends tells me that my rack looks awesome.
2. i'm kind of sad that i didn't have a wedding ceremony/reception. all girls deserve to feel like a beautiful princess on that special day and i just feel like an icky lumpy hag.
3. Sensual Amber soap by Bath & Body Works (TM) smells like an old lady, but i really like it anyway.
4. undercooked salmon + standing up for myself and sending it back = free chicken.
5. i think it's hilarious that it scares my son when i burp.
6. an Orange will now be referred to as a "more than Yellow, but less than Red".
7. i wonder if eating the stickers on fruit will cause cancer over time?
8. geez why have i been so farty today?
9. the Hostess at Chili's really need to keep her "stank eye" in check before she gets popped in da mouf.
10. i need to stop typing/laying on my boobs. i don't want another "milk explosion" like i had two nights ago.
example.
Friday morning i went to the local YMCA to sign up. i gained a tad bit too much weight when i was pregnant (went from 126 lbs to 202 lbs.... oops. damn you taco bell!!) and i was really excited to get back to the gym and get rid of the JELL-O (tm) that still lurks beneath my surfaces and makes me all jibbly and gross.
yes, jibbly.
but i digress. i went, signed up, then figured i'd go home, feed my darling son, change into Sweatin' to the Oldies gear, then head back and get my burn on.
and it was a great plan up until i got back to the YMCA. i was informed that i was an hour too late for the nursery; they had closed at 1pm and didn't open back up until 4pm. no problem. i went home, played with my Slimeysaurus, fed/changed him, then at 4pm got everything ready to go back to the gym. nothing would stop me now!!
i opened up my front door.
monsoon.
flooding.
apocalyptic downpour.
and a touch of wind.
this is where i got discouraged. i closed the door, turned around, got the baby out of his bucket (car seat), and decided to try again in an hour if the rain let up.
it did.
so i did.
i FINALLY get to the gym, the nursery was open, dropped off the smiling angel child, and went and gave myself a good old fashioned whooping.
i sweat so much that if someone had collected it as it plummeted from my body, it would have been enough to drown a whale.
think about it.
the moral of the story is: the Universe and Georgia teamed up to try and keep me from losing my lard, but i gave them a spanking and came out victorious. though very very sore. perhaps i should not have tried to lose all the weight at once after doing next to nothing in the "exercise" department for 14 months.
Krista's Bedtime Thoughts:
*a new segment in which i just purge my brain of the thoughts racing around so that i can go to sleep*
1. it's kind of creepy when a guy compliments my boobs, but it feels WONDERFUL when one of my girlfriends tells me that my rack looks awesome.
2. i'm kind of sad that i didn't have a wedding ceremony/reception. all girls deserve to feel like a beautiful princess on that special day and i just feel like an icky lumpy hag.
3. Sensual Amber soap by Bath & Body Works (TM) smells like an old lady, but i really like it anyway.
4. undercooked salmon + standing up for myself and sending it back = free chicken.
5. i think it's hilarious that it scares my son when i burp.
6. an Orange will now be referred to as a "more than Yellow, but less than Red".
7. i wonder if eating the stickers on fruit will cause cancer over time?
8. geez why have i been so farty today?
9. the Hostess at Chili's really need to keep her "stank eye" in check before she gets popped in da mouf.
10. i need to stop typing/laying on my boobs. i don't want another "milk explosion" like i had two nights ago.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
blood, pizza, and soiled sushi.
i make interesting food choices. this includes food selection, food preparation, and even my food eating techniques. i don't quite know how or why it started, or what my fascination is with my need to be meticulous about what i ingest, i just know that i've cracked somewhere and it resulted in neurotic behavior.
example.
remember when i wrote about going to the store and purchasing cupcake mix and frosting (along with a car-load of other terribly unhealthy foods)?
well, this is what happened in the aftermath of that fateful grocery shopping foray.
got home from the store.
ate 9 of the twelve rolls of sushi.
decided i needed more soy sauce.
found old bottle of soy sauce in the fridge.
poured copious amounts of soy sauce on the remaining 3 rolls.
ate one, gagged violently, expelled sushi roll into the trash.
checked the expiration date on the bottom of the bottle.
expired in 2008.
manage to suppress a barf.
decide to "whip up" some carrot cake cupcakes.
"whip up" said cupcakes to make me feel better for the loss of the 3 ruined sushi rolls.
proceed to eat 8 cupcakes. 8 whole cupcakes.
feel sick.
put the offspring to bed. stay up for a while, get a call from Mike.
admit my shameful act to my husband.
head to bed.
convince myself to "be an adult" and go down and brush my teeth.
head back up to bed.
stay up fiddling with my blog page, make the excuse on Facebook that i'm too tired to make a post on here.
call my own bluff and spit da trufe with yet another brilliant blog.
wake up.
see the cupcakes....
proceed to eat the remaining SIXTEEN CUPCAKES.
Oh.
My.
God.
feel like i want to die.
suffer dearly for my actions the next time i visit the powder room.
swear off cake for the rest of my life.
drink a V8 so as to cancel out the caloric/sugar intake of the 16 cupcakes.
oddly enough, i felt accomplished because i'd forced myself to finish them off and get them out of the house. and that was all i ate that day. well that and the V8.
second example.
i ate the pizza today.
i eat pizza in a "special" way. i flip it upside down so the cheese is plate-side. then i pinch off pieces of the bread and nibble off the soft doughy underbelly of it and throw away the part that was actually touching the cookie sheet i cooked it on. then i get to the crust. the cheese-stuffed crust. i remove the cheese, effectively unstuffing the crust, and devour it. next i eat the cheese/toppings that are now laying on the plate all helpless and dejected because i waited so long to eat them.
poor pizza. did it really deserve to be mutilated like that?
absolutely it did. that's what it gets for being so bad for me and yet so sexy and alluring. stupid pizza.
i think that's why i don't often find myself eating vegetables. vegetables aren't nearly as fun to disect and disembowel.
my Slimeysaurus is demanding my full attention. i guess that's the end of my Discourse on Krista's Food Habits.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Ladies, there comes a time every month where we decide that life just kind of sucks balls. we feel all gross, fat, bloaty, nauseated, full of pain and Blood-Shot-Eyes-Fire-Breathing-Baby-Bunny-Slaughtering-Banshee-Murder-RAGE.
It's times like this that we can turn to the End-All Cure-All Therapeutic Device: the Television.
Feeling Fat and Bloated? go watch "dance your ass off", or one of those "Half Ton Teens" shows on Discovery. the hick mother that has been shoveling fat and sugar into her kid's face, who is in disbelief over how her precious angel could have gotten that big, will make you feel all thin, beautiful, educated, and healthy. problem solved.
Feeling Crampy and in Pain? grab your Ben & Jerry's (tm) and head on over to the Oxygen channel and watch The Notebook. don't worry about checking TV guide for show times because it is ALWAYS on. cry over Allie and Noah's pain of being separated and let the healing begin!
Feeling Full of Blood-Shot-Eyes-Fire-Breathing-Baby-Bunny-Slaughtering-Banshee-Murder-RAGE? you've hit the jackpot, girlfriend. pop on over to America's Next Top Model (my personal favorite), the Bad Girls' Club, or any of the "New Jersey" shows. proceed to yell at the stupid skanky whores. they deserve it. keep watching until you either go hoarse from screaming expletives, or until you gain that shiny fluffy sense of self-righteous superiority. if all this doesn't dispel your rage you may need to go watch a "Snapped" marathon.
i know that when i'm feeling especially bitchy, i like to watch it and smile, silently congratulating the clever ones that get away with it, so to speak.
Enjoy, my lovely lady friends! and kudos to Tash for being my inspiration this evening. she gets 7 points, a gold star, and a cupcake.
example.
remember when i wrote about going to the store and purchasing cupcake mix and frosting (along with a car-load of other terribly unhealthy foods)?
well, this is what happened in the aftermath of that fateful grocery shopping foray.
got home from the store.
ate 9 of the twelve rolls of sushi.
decided i needed more soy sauce.
found old bottle of soy sauce in the fridge.
poured copious amounts of soy sauce on the remaining 3 rolls.
ate one, gagged violently, expelled sushi roll into the trash.
checked the expiration date on the bottom of the bottle.
expired in 2008.
manage to suppress a barf.
decide to "whip up" some carrot cake cupcakes.
"whip up" said cupcakes to make me feel better for the loss of the 3 ruined sushi rolls.
proceed to eat 8 cupcakes. 8 whole cupcakes.
feel sick.
put the offspring to bed. stay up for a while, get a call from Mike.
admit my shameful act to my husband.
head to bed.
convince myself to "be an adult" and go down and brush my teeth.
head back up to bed.
stay up fiddling with my blog page, make the excuse on Facebook that i'm too tired to make a post on here.
call my own bluff and spit da trufe with yet another brilliant blog.
wake up.
see the cupcakes....
proceed to eat the remaining SIXTEEN CUPCAKES.
Oh.
My.
God.
feel like i want to die.
suffer dearly for my actions the next time i visit the powder room.
swear off cake for the rest of my life.
drink a V8 so as to cancel out the caloric/sugar intake of the 16 cupcakes.
oddly enough, i felt accomplished because i'd forced myself to finish them off and get them out of the house. and that was all i ate that day. well that and the V8.
second example.
i ate the pizza today.
i eat pizza in a "special" way. i flip it upside down so the cheese is plate-side. then i pinch off pieces of the bread and nibble off the soft doughy underbelly of it and throw away the part that was actually touching the cookie sheet i cooked it on. then i get to the crust. the cheese-stuffed crust. i remove the cheese, effectively unstuffing the crust, and devour it. next i eat the cheese/toppings that are now laying on the plate all helpless and dejected because i waited so long to eat them.
poor pizza. did it really deserve to be mutilated like that?
absolutely it did. that's what it gets for being so bad for me and yet so sexy and alluring. stupid pizza.
i think that's why i don't often find myself eating vegetables. vegetables aren't nearly as fun to disect and disembowel.
my Slimeysaurus is demanding my full attention. i guess that's the end of my Discourse on Krista's Food Habits.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Ladies, there comes a time every month where we decide that life just kind of sucks balls. we feel all gross, fat, bloaty, nauseated, full of pain and Blood-Shot-Eyes-Fire-Breathing-Baby-Bunny-Slaughtering-Banshee-Murder-RAGE.
It's times like this that we can turn to the End-All Cure-All Therapeutic Device: the Television.
Feeling Fat and Bloated? go watch "dance your ass off", or one of those "Half Ton Teens" shows on Discovery. the hick mother that has been shoveling fat and sugar into her kid's face, who is in disbelief over how her precious angel could have gotten that big, will make you feel all thin, beautiful, educated, and healthy. problem solved.
Feeling Crampy and in Pain? grab your Ben & Jerry's (tm) and head on over to the Oxygen channel and watch The Notebook. don't worry about checking TV guide for show times because it is ALWAYS on. cry over Allie and Noah's pain of being separated and let the healing begin!
Feeling Full of Blood-Shot-Eyes-Fire-Breathing-Baby-Bunny-Slaughtering-Banshee-Murder-RAGE? you've hit the jackpot, girlfriend. pop on over to America's Next Top Model (my personal favorite), the Bad Girls' Club, or any of the "New Jersey" shows. proceed to yell at the stupid skanky whores. they deserve it. keep watching until you either go hoarse from screaming expletives, or until you gain that shiny fluffy sense of self-righteous superiority. if all this doesn't dispel your rage you may need to go watch a "Snapped" marathon.
i know that when i'm feeling especially bitchy, i like to watch it and smile, silently congratulating the clever ones that get away with it, so to speak.
Enjoy, my lovely lady friends! and kudos to Tash for being my inspiration this evening. she gets 7 points, a gold star, and a cupcake.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
diapers are expensive.
yes they are. especially when your son throws the hissiest of fits when he's only ever so slightly moist in his nether-regions.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Do NOT eat health food all day, slash your caloric intake, get all self righteous and then go to the store to buy junk food. no matter how justified you feel. you will end up cooking up 24 cupcakes, eating enough to make a fat kid NO LONGER LOVE CAKE, and in so doing infuse your breastmilk with enough sugar content that your 5 month old son will turn into that squirrel Hammie from Over The Hedge (all rights reserved).
Duncan Hines says that their refined sugars don't cross into the breast milk but this is a dirty filthy, filthy lie.
bottom line: your resolve will be weakened from eating nothing but foods high in veggies and fiber; your judgement will not just be cloudy- it will be straight up foggy. we're talking foggy as pea soup. but with more pea soupyness. you will end up buying 2 frozen pizzas, velveeta shells and cheese, a key lime pie, a lemon cream pie, cupcake mix, frosting, a butterfinger bar for the ride home, and 2 cans of cat food (gotta spoil the Furry Ones too) instead of the fruits/veggies/low-calorie-foods that you had every intention of purchasing.
it's a good thing i'm signing up at the YMCA on Friday.
i failed at following my own Tip of the Day.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Do NOT eat health food all day, slash your caloric intake, get all self righteous and then go to the store to buy junk food. no matter how justified you feel. you will end up cooking up 24 cupcakes, eating enough to make a fat kid NO LONGER LOVE CAKE, and in so doing infuse your breastmilk with enough sugar content that your 5 month old son will turn into that squirrel Hammie from Over The Hedge (all rights reserved).
Duncan Hines says that their refined sugars don't cross into the breast milk but this is a dirty filthy, filthy lie.
bottom line: your resolve will be weakened from eating nothing but foods high in veggies and fiber; your judgement will not just be cloudy- it will be straight up foggy. we're talking foggy as pea soup. but with more pea soupyness. you will end up buying 2 frozen pizzas, velveeta shells and cheese, a key lime pie, a lemon cream pie, cupcake mix, frosting, a butterfinger bar for the ride home, and 2 cans of cat food (gotta spoil the Furry Ones too) instead of the fruits/veggies/low-calorie-foods that you had every intention of purchasing.
it's a good thing i'm signing up at the YMCA on Friday.
i failed at following my own Tip of the Day.
Monday, July 19, 2010
it's hard to make connections when you have brain damage.
it occurred to me today that i might, perhaps, have brain damage.
how do i know this, you ask?
the following is the evidence that i have scrounged up.
Physical Clues:
1) i fractured my skull as a baby.
2) i fractured my skull again when i was seven. Lucky me.
3) i do this weird... breathing thing where i make several little sighing/gasping noises in succession. i've done it for years. i don't know why i can't seem to break the habit of doing it.
4) i squeeze my eyes shut then slowly blink them open one at a time and roll my eyes in different directions. all the time. yet another seemingly autonomic bodily function that i can't control. and that was redundant. and repetative. and redundant.
Behavioral Clues:
1) when i was in grade school, we're talking kindergarten through about 5th grade, i used to walk the halls murmuring math problems to myself and pretending that they were waaaaay advanced and that i was solving them in my head so that i'd appear to be "smart". i now understand that when others looked at me it was more likely that they saw "crazy".
2) lately i've discovered that when i'm alone at home, and drinking a glass of water, that i'll lift my glass, wink, and toast..... no one. maybe the walls. or my willow figurine. possibly the refridgerator. i don't really know. it just kind of happens.
3) and it's really no secret that i talk to myself. in basic training my drill sergeant caught me sitting on the floor, looking side to side and having an intense conversation with myself over where i had left my M16 rifle. i've had several other embarrassing such "self-discussions" that i will decine to relate to you at this time. maybe in another post if you're lucky. and if i can remember them...
4) i pee when i laugh too hard. maybe that's not a sign of brain damage. maybe it is. i won't count it out.
5) i hate doughnuts. i've been told that that might also be a sign that my brain has been violently squished in the wrong places.
6) remember my post about my immaculate sense of fashion?
so. i dunno. i think the fact that it's taken me nearly 26 years to make the connection between head trauma, fractured skulls, and behavior that no sane person would ever exhibit is yet another bit of proof that not all of my lights are working upstairs.
but hey, at least i have fun. that's all that matte.... oh hey, soup.
(p.s. please feel free to comment or leave suggestions for future post topics. inspiration comes from everywhere. and tell your friends!)
how do i know this, you ask?
the following is the evidence that i have scrounged up.
Physical Clues:
1) i fractured my skull as a baby.
2) i fractured my skull again when i was seven. Lucky me.
3) i do this weird... breathing thing where i make several little sighing/gasping noises in succession. i've done it for years. i don't know why i can't seem to break the habit of doing it.
4) i squeeze my eyes shut then slowly blink them open one at a time and roll my eyes in different directions. all the time. yet another seemingly autonomic bodily function that i can't control. and that was redundant. and repetative. and redundant.
Behavioral Clues:
1) when i was in grade school, we're talking kindergarten through about 5th grade, i used to walk the halls murmuring math problems to myself and pretending that they were waaaaay advanced and that i was solving them in my head so that i'd appear to be "smart". i now understand that when others looked at me it was more likely that they saw "crazy".
2) lately i've discovered that when i'm alone at home, and drinking a glass of water, that i'll lift my glass, wink, and toast..... no one. maybe the walls. or my willow figurine. possibly the refridgerator. i don't really know. it just kind of happens.
3) and it's really no secret that i talk to myself. in basic training my drill sergeant caught me sitting on the floor, looking side to side and having an intense conversation with myself over where i had left my M16 rifle. i've had several other embarrassing such "self-discussions" that i will decine to relate to you at this time. maybe in another post if you're lucky. and if i can remember them...
4) i pee when i laugh too hard. maybe that's not a sign of brain damage. maybe it is. i won't count it out.
5) i hate doughnuts. i've been told that that might also be a sign that my brain has been violently squished in the wrong places.
6) remember my post about my immaculate sense of fashion?
so. i dunno. i think the fact that it's taken me nearly 26 years to make the connection between head trauma, fractured skulls, and behavior that no sane person would ever exhibit is yet another bit of proof that not all of my lights are working upstairs.
but hey, at least i have fun. that's all that matte.... oh hey, soup.
(p.s. please feel free to comment or leave suggestions for future post topics. inspiration comes from everywhere. and tell your friends!)
Sunday, July 18, 2010
my sense of fashion has never been stellar.
i've always been the Cantelope in the Metal Shop of Life. just completely out of place. and a bit pale and pasty. and dimpled. eww.
allow me to explain.
i've always had a... unique... way of dressing myself. let me take you on a journey that follows how my concept of the "perfect outfit" has evolved over the years.
age 0-4: my favorite way to be was just absolutely naked. i might on occasion throw a diaper on in there, maybe a pair of my mom's pumps, perchance a bunch of those metallic colored star stickers in a geometric pattern on my bare belly. throw in a couple of oversized gaudy plastic hair clips circa 1983 on my head and you've got a pretty accurate picture of how i spent my early years.
age 5-10: things got a tad better during this span. i decided that the clothes were not "lava" (remember playing the game "THE FLOOR IS LAVA!!!"?) and that with the proper sideways ponytail or french braid, that i looked pretty cute.
age 11: ENTER DISASTER. it all started when the boobs started growing. suddenly i was floppy and overly aware of how cold the room was and sooooooooo freaked out about the entire ordeal. going bra shopping for the first time was possibly the most mortifying experience of my life. it was a blur of mint green sport bras, embarassment, patrolling the store for people that i knew so i could be prepared to instantly die the moment i saw them, and nausea. after the purchasing was over i vowed that while i now owned several bras, it didn't mean that i actually had to wear them. haha!! take THAT Puberty!! every day that winter when my mom drove me to school i'd quietly slip my bra off in the back seat and stuff it into my backpack. muah haha!! NO STRAPPY SATINY PRISON COULD HOLD THESE MELONS!!!!
age 12-13: the Ladies got too big to ignore so i made peace with the bra. however, other things went seriously, seriously wrong. i owned a pair of those huge, 1985-movie-villain eyeglasses. and i had to wear them all the time. now add braces. now add huge chunky platform purple skechers. thrown in a bunch of hand-me-down tee shirts, pants that were too short on me but the perfect length in case of a flood, some homemade dresses, and an extra helping of pimples, and you'll be able to understand the hideousness that was ME in the 6th grade. this was truly my first Ugly Phase. my husband doesn't believe that i ever had one so when i went to Texas earlier this summer i picked up some old pictures to prove it to him. i fear for any daughters that we may have in the future.
age 14-16: thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis part got... better? well, if you consider purple lip liner, pale pink shimmer lipstick, glitter, blue mascara, baby blue parachute-feeling rave pants, and whacky artsy tops better. i'm not sure that i do. i also had a bright orange shirt that had a turtle on a skateboard with flames coming out the back of the board that read "i've got the need for speed" at the top. i had reached Coolness. and it was about time. high school had just struck and it was make-it or break it time.
age 17-21: these were my "i feel pretty, oh so pretty" years. delicate skirts, cute jeans, fitted tops that complemented my slammin Prancer Drill/Dance Team Bod. long curly hair... yessir i was doing alright. and then the Army happened...
age 21-25: i, uh, went a little nuts. bought a dress in Hawaii that was pretty much just a large silky handkerchief and two pieces of string. i had a pair of those loud neon plaid short shorts. had a bunch of halter tops, a blue tube top with stars on it, and somewhere in there several pairs of Child Size Extra-Large Full Length Fuzzy Bright Pink Zip-Up Feetsie Jammies with penguins on them. which i loved to wear. in my barracks room. all the time. this, ladies and gentlemen is what the new face of the Army looks like. and it's wearing Feetsie Jammies. kind of makes you feel all safe and secure knowing that hardened Soldiers like me are out there doesn't it? oh and then there was The Mohawk. this Mohawk won me the attention of the man that would later become my husband. it was a SOLID and excellent Life Decision.
present: ugh. i'm in the Post Partum Ick phase which will only end once i can squeeze back into my jeans again. i'm making progress. they now come up over my thighs but no where near containing my new Jell-o Jigglers (registered trademark) inspired butt. maybe if i rub my rump with crisco then try to slurp my hindquarters into them...
*note to self: buy more crisco... maybe some Pam...*
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Beauty pageants are not cute. even the best "trained" little girl still looks like the last flailing flops of a dying trout when she goes up to "shake her money maker" on the judging stage. barf. half the time the girls cry, wet their pants, their fake hair/eyelashes/teeth (my God are they robots?!?!) fall out, or they freeze up and get that weird look on their mugs like "oh dear God all of these freaky people are looking at me.. i completely forgot what to do... i want to watch Dora and BackPack.... oh look, there's glitter on the floor!"
bottom line, don't dress your ugly kid up in $700 frilly monstrosities and parade them around in the hopes that they'll win a plastic and rhinestone crown so as to boost their delicate self esteem. what you're really doing is training these poor girls to be floosies and hussies. what? yes. i am right. and Kathy Griffin agrees with me.
that's all the validation i need.
(thanks to Mike and Regina for posting links to this blog on their Facebook pages, and an extra thank you to Regina for helping to inspire the Tip of the Day; y'all rock!)
allow me to explain.
i've always had a... unique... way of dressing myself. let me take you on a journey that follows how my concept of the "perfect outfit" has evolved over the years.
age 0-4: my favorite way to be was just absolutely naked. i might on occasion throw a diaper on in there, maybe a pair of my mom's pumps, perchance a bunch of those metallic colored star stickers in a geometric pattern on my bare belly. throw in a couple of oversized gaudy plastic hair clips circa 1983 on my head and you've got a pretty accurate picture of how i spent my early years.
age 5-10: things got a tad better during this span. i decided that the clothes were not "lava" (remember playing the game "THE FLOOR IS LAVA!!!"?) and that with the proper sideways ponytail or french braid, that i looked pretty cute.
age 11: ENTER DISASTER. it all started when the boobs started growing. suddenly i was floppy and overly aware of how cold the room was and sooooooooo freaked out about the entire ordeal. going bra shopping for the first time was possibly the most mortifying experience of my life. it was a blur of mint green sport bras, embarassment, patrolling the store for people that i knew so i could be prepared to instantly die the moment i saw them, and nausea. after the purchasing was over i vowed that while i now owned several bras, it didn't mean that i actually had to wear them. haha!! take THAT Puberty!! every day that winter when my mom drove me to school i'd quietly slip my bra off in the back seat and stuff it into my backpack. muah haha!! NO STRAPPY SATINY PRISON COULD HOLD THESE MELONS!!!!
age 12-13: the Ladies got too big to ignore so i made peace with the bra. however, other things went seriously, seriously wrong. i owned a pair of those huge, 1985-movie-villain eyeglasses. and i had to wear them all the time. now add braces. now add huge chunky platform purple skechers. thrown in a bunch of hand-me-down tee shirts, pants that were too short on me but the perfect length in case of a flood, some homemade dresses, and an extra helping of pimples, and you'll be able to understand the hideousness that was ME in the 6th grade. this was truly my first Ugly Phase. my husband doesn't believe that i ever had one so when i went to Texas earlier this summer i picked up some old pictures to prove it to him. i fear for any daughters that we may have in the future.
age 14-16: thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis part got... better? well, if you consider purple lip liner, pale pink shimmer lipstick, glitter, blue mascara, baby blue parachute-feeling rave pants, and whacky artsy tops better. i'm not sure that i do. i also had a bright orange shirt that had a turtle on a skateboard with flames coming out the back of the board that read "i've got the need for speed" at the top. i had reached Coolness. and it was about time. high school had just struck and it was make-it or break it time.
age 17-21: these were my "i feel pretty, oh so pretty" years. delicate skirts, cute jeans, fitted tops that complemented my slammin Prancer Drill/Dance Team Bod. long curly hair... yessir i was doing alright. and then the Army happened...
age 21-25: i, uh, went a little nuts. bought a dress in Hawaii that was pretty much just a large silky handkerchief and two pieces of string. i had a pair of those loud neon plaid short shorts. had a bunch of halter tops, a blue tube top with stars on it, and somewhere in there several pairs of Child Size Extra-Large Full Length Fuzzy Bright Pink Zip-Up Feetsie Jammies with penguins on them. which i loved to wear. in my barracks room. all the time. this, ladies and gentlemen is what the new face of the Army looks like. and it's wearing Feetsie Jammies. kind of makes you feel all safe and secure knowing that hardened Soldiers like me are out there doesn't it? oh and then there was The Mohawk. this Mohawk won me the attention of the man that would later become my husband. it was a SOLID and excellent Life Decision.
present: ugh. i'm in the Post Partum Ick phase which will only end once i can squeeze back into my jeans again. i'm making progress. they now come up over my thighs but no where near containing my new Jell-o Jigglers (registered trademark) inspired butt. maybe if i rub my rump with crisco then try to slurp my hindquarters into them...
*note to self: buy more crisco... maybe some Pam...*
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Beauty pageants are not cute. even the best "trained" little girl still looks like the last flailing flops of a dying trout when she goes up to "shake her money maker" on the judging stage. barf. half the time the girls cry, wet their pants, their fake hair/eyelashes/teeth (my God are they robots?!?!) fall out, or they freeze up and get that weird look on their mugs like "oh dear God all of these freaky people are looking at me.. i completely forgot what to do... i want to watch Dora and BackPack.... oh look, there's glitter on the floor!"
bottom line, don't dress your ugly kid up in $700 frilly monstrosities and parade them around in the hopes that they'll win a plastic and rhinestone crown so as to boost their delicate self esteem. what you're really doing is training these poor girls to be floosies and hussies. what? yes. i am right. and Kathy Griffin agrees with me.
that's all the validation i need.
(thanks to Mike and Regina for posting links to this blog on their Facebook pages, and an extra thank you to Regina for helping to inspire the Tip of the Day; y'all rock!)
Saturday, July 17, 2010
there's no way to look intimidating while juicing an orange.
so as a social hermit i watch a bit too much tv. lately, i've become very critical of and disgusted with commercials. especially ones that try too hard. let me explain.
there's a commercial on tv for a "touchless" hand soap pump. their pitch is that the pump for the traditional bottle of hand soap is rife with bacteria and it's like, totally gross and junk. so they push this automatic soap releasing device on you. which is great if you're marketing to baboons who don't really think about it.
the problem is, i think about it. sure, i can get soap without actually touching the pump, but oh Lordie Lordie what the hell am i supposed to do when i go to turn on the water??? not only will it be germy from me turning it on, but after i've scrubbed and rinsed then i'll have to touch it again to turn it off! this completely undoes all the fervent lathering that i'd been doing for the last 30 seconds.
i also find it .... not funny, maybe peculiar when the TV Warlords try to sell us cooking shows by using violence in the previews. the man squeezing the orange half on the juicer while giving the audience the Stank Eye isn't fooling anyone. it's cooking for fuck's sake. how dramatic could it possibly be?
in other news...
i may be a monster for saying this... but today's excursion to wal-mart felt like i was trapped in an episode of "let's go shopping with my ugly ugly children". it was frightening. too many pudgy amorphous offspring that looked like they'd had too many funnel cakes and big macs for lunch. and i'm almost certain that there was at least one poor child whose mommy and daddy had probably grown up in the same house... with the same last name... and the same parents. (please say you got it, i'd hate to just have to come right out and say it.)
seriously though, it was scary. i almost felt like shielding my beautiful angel baby, making a run for the butter and eggs, breezing through the self check out, and then bolting for the sweet freedom of daylight beyond the heavily accented Wal-Mart Door Greeter.
yep. i'm probably a monster.
at least i'm a monster with freshly painted fingernails. "key-yoot!!"
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Brush up on your American Sign Language. or at least how to say "keep your hands and any other body parts off of my darling perfect child" in several languages. you may find these skills extremely useful the next time you find yourself sandwiched between two... let's call them Foreigners, cuz Illegals sounds a bit harsh...... on a very crowded flight from Houston to El Paso. this way, when Senorita goes to grab your child's hand to hold and kiss it you can nip her overly-friendly-and-politely-pushy behavior in the proverbial bud. heaven only knows what germs and diseases people carry, let alone ones that you find in the Airborne Cess-Pool otherwise known as a 3 hour Southwest Airlines flight.
it's either that, or saran-wrap your child. or put him in a bubble a la Jake Gylellenhal in Bubble Boy. or bring a can of Lysol with you on the plane and coat your seat neighbors in a Cloud of Cleanliness before the plane takes off in order to ensure that they don't pass any Bird-Swine-Hep C-AIDS-Chlamydia-Syphillis-Flu-Pneumonia to your little one.
a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.
there's a commercial on tv for a "touchless" hand soap pump. their pitch is that the pump for the traditional bottle of hand soap is rife with bacteria and it's like, totally gross and junk. so they push this automatic soap releasing device on you. which is great if you're marketing to baboons who don't really think about it.
the problem is, i think about it. sure, i can get soap without actually touching the pump, but oh Lordie Lordie what the hell am i supposed to do when i go to turn on the water??? not only will it be germy from me turning it on, but after i've scrubbed and rinsed then i'll have to touch it again to turn it off! this completely undoes all the fervent lathering that i'd been doing for the last 30 seconds.
i also find it .... not funny, maybe peculiar when the TV Warlords try to sell us cooking shows by using violence in the previews. the man squeezing the orange half on the juicer while giving the audience the Stank Eye isn't fooling anyone. it's cooking for fuck's sake. how dramatic could it possibly be?
in other news...
i may be a monster for saying this... but today's excursion to wal-mart felt like i was trapped in an episode of "let's go shopping with my ugly ugly children". it was frightening. too many pudgy amorphous offspring that looked like they'd had too many funnel cakes and big macs for lunch. and i'm almost certain that there was at least one poor child whose mommy and daddy had probably grown up in the same house... with the same last name... and the same parents. (please say you got it, i'd hate to just have to come right out and say it.)
seriously though, it was scary. i almost felt like shielding my beautiful angel baby, making a run for the butter and eggs, breezing through the self check out, and then bolting for the sweet freedom of daylight beyond the heavily accented Wal-Mart Door Greeter.
yep. i'm probably a monster.
at least i'm a monster with freshly painted fingernails. "key-yoot!!"
Krista's Tip of the Day:
Brush up on your American Sign Language. or at least how to say "keep your hands and any other body parts off of my darling perfect child" in several languages. you may find these skills extremely useful the next time you find yourself sandwiched between two... let's call them Foreigners, cuz Illegals sounds a bit harsh...... on a very crowded flight from Houston to El Paso. this way, when Senorita goes to grab your child's hand to hold and kiss it you can nip her overly-friendly-and-politely-pushy behavior in the proverbial bud. heaven only knows what germs and diseases people carry, let alone ones that you find in the Airborne Cess-Pool otherwise known as a 3 hour Southwest Airlines flight.
it's either that, or saran-wrap your child. or put him in a bubble a la Jake Gylellenhal in Bubble Boy. or bring a can of Lysol with you on the plane and coat your seat neighbors in a Cloud of Cleanliness before the plane takes off in order to ensure that they don't pass any Bird-Swine-Hep C-AIDS-Chlamydia-Syphillis-Flu-Pneumonia to your little one.
a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Life sucks and then you die.
i've always enjoyed writing. but it was only recently that i decided to force my literary exploits on the world. hopefully with the result of entertaining the masses.
i figured that my first post should probably explain what my plans are as far as how my posts will go.
for starters:
1. i curse with alarming frequency. so if you are terrrrrrribly offended by explitives, then maybe this isn't the blog for you. or maybe you could just cover your eyes when you come to the offending words, hop occularly over them, remove your fingers, and then carry on. yeah. just do that.
2. my spelling might be.... off. i tend to write like i think and speak, using punctuation and often more letters than i need to to make the words evoke the meanings that i want them to. i could care less about proper capitalization and punctuation. so no "hating". please. life is too short to get your panties all in a tizzy over the fact that i use a semicolon instead of the proper colon.
3. my son, a cute little dinosaur that i call the Slimeysaurus, is the most awesome thing in my life. and i guess my husband is pretty freakin great too. i reference them quite a bit. be prepared.
4. i skip around a lot. i've got a touch of dyslexia, and a more than healthy helping of WHERE DID THE SPOON GO? LOOK A WITCH! WHY ARE YOU SPLASHING ME WITH LIGHTER FLUID? OH GREAT HERE'S A FLYING SQUIRREL CARDIGAN!! also known as ADD. ok.
5. this blog is NOT to be taken seriously. the stories are all 100% true, but please put on your Sarcasm Monocle before you read.
ok. that pretty much sums it up. i promise the next post will be much more entertaining. maybe i'll include a clover eating contest between a carmudgeony old wombat and Dumbledore's slacker nephew Brett.
stay tuned.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
this is a segment where i impart life lessons that i have learned to my devoted readers. today's tip is as follows.
Ladies, never leave your breat pump on the kitchen counter unattended if you have cats. the opaque plastic tubing is a tasty siren song to your cat-nip junkies. you will discover that it has been chewed into teensy irreparable pieces that are now scattered across the counter and the floor. upon discovering that your expensive booby-pumping equipment is destroyed, you will find your cats, curse them thoroughly, and drop kick them ever so gently the next time they find themselves within a 2-foot radius of your feet. even though you are the evolved species, you WILL blame the cats for your neglect in regards to your Milking Machine. and you will feel no remorse. make sure you get some neosporin for those cat scratches though. cat scratch fever's a bitch.
i figured that my first post should probably explain what my plans are as far as how my posts will go.
for starters:
1. i curse with alarming frequency. so if you are terrrrrrribly offended by explitives, then maybe this isn't the blog for you. or maybe you could just cover your eyes when you come to the offending words, hop occularly over them, remove your fingers, and then carry on. yeah. just do that.
2. my spelling might be.... off. i tend to write like i think and speak, using punctuation and often more letters than i need to to make the words evoke the meanings that i want them to. i could care less about proper capitalization and punctuation. so no "hating". please. life is too short to get your panties all in a tizzy over the fact that i use a semicolon instead of the proper colon.
3. my son, a cute little dinosaur that i call the Slimeysaurus, is the most awesome thing in my life. and i guess my husband is pretty freakin great too. i reference them quite a bit. be prepared.
4. i skip around a lot. i've got a touch of dyslexia, and a more than healthy helping of WHERE DID THE SPOON GO? LOOK A WITCH! WHY ARE YOU SPLASHING ME WITH LIGHTER FLUID? OH GREAT HERE'S A FLYING SQUIRREL CARDIGAN!! also known as ADD. ok.
5. this blog is NOT to be taken seriously. the stories are all 100% true, but please put on your Sarcasm Monocle before you read.
ok. that pretty much sums it up. i promise the next post will be much more entertaining. maybe i'll include a clover eating contest between a carmudgeony old wombat and Dumbledore's slacker nephew Brett.
stay tuned.
Krista's Tip of the Day:
this is a segment where i impart life lessons that i have learned to my devoted readers. today's tip is as follows.
Ladies, never leave your breat pump on the kitchen counter unattended if you have cats. the opaque plastic tubing is a tasty siren song to your cat-nip junkies. you will discover that it has been chewed into teensy irreparable pieces that are now scattered across the counter and the floor. upon discovering that your expensive booby-pumping equipment is destroyed, you will find your cats, curse them thoroughly, and drop kick them ever so gently the next time they find themselves within a 2-foot radius of your feet. even though you are the evolved species, you WILL blame the cats for your neglect in regards to your Milking Machine. and you will feel no remorse. make sure you get some neosporin for those cat scratches though. cat scratch fever's a bitch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)