Saturday, September 29, 2012

My Biggest Fan

When I started considering this blogging, Charming and I had a few conversations about how he felt about it and what I would write. This is a re-cap of our first one. I will cherish it always.

Me: "You know I'm thinking about starting a blog."

Charming: "Yeah."

Me: "Well, what do you think about that?"

Charming: "I'm not going to read it."

Me: "Huh?!? Why not?"

Charming: "What if I don't think it's funny? I probably won't. I'm funnier than you. You'll just get mad if I don't think it's funny."

Me: "Don't be an asshole. And you're NOT funnier than me. Besides, you don't have a blog."

Charming: "..."

Me: "You better read it. And you better check yourself. Now that I'll have a blog, when you piss me off I can spread that shit all over the internet."

Charming: "Okay, I'll read it."

Me: "You're right you'll read it. And then you'll get out your pom-poms and cheer me on like Richard effing Simmons."


**Update: 5 months in, and he STILL doesn't read it. Asshat.**



Do YOU think he should read it? Click here. Not that it will change anything,  I just couldn't think of anything else to say. But, seriously. Click it. Please?



Thursday, September 27, 2012

D-Day

I've started a blog. Obviously.  This isn't my first entry, because I wanted to have a few posts before I published it. But, I've decided today's the day. It is now time to embarrass myself and my family by making it public.

Simmer down, family...I'm only kidding...mostly. I can totally see my mother and sister reading this through slits in their fingers, horrified. (They are learning about this at the same time you are.) I have no intention of embarrassing anyone (aside from myself - which I guess even then wouldn't be intentional). No INTENTION. It could technically happen, but by complete accident.

"Why are you writing a blog?" you may ask. I wish I had a really great answer for that. One reason is that several (more than 2 but less than 10) people have suggested in the past year that I should write. Or that if I had a blog they would read it (I guess we'll just see about that now, won't we). But, the truth is...I'm kinda bored. Summer is over, the kids are in school all day, and now I'm a mom and housewife that has a little spare time and enjoys writing.  One day the thought occurred to me, "Maybe I'll start a blog. That is something that can be totally time-consuming and in no way productive. Sounds perfect." So I sat down a few days ago and started one.

How did I come up with the name? Well, it's pretty self-explanatory. I was the textbook "good girl" in high school. And - for the most part - in college. Then I got married, had kids, and shit went downhill. Just kidding. But it did drive me to drink and cuss. Kidding again. I mostly just think it's funny to compare my "kid" self to my "grown-up" (???how did that happen???) self. Oh, and I literally AM the girl next door since I married the boy across the street. So, there's that.

Surely there are other things I could do besides blog. Of course there are. I just don't want to do any of them. What do I expect from this? Nothing, really. Why should anyone read it? Eh....I'm not sure...because you had a few spare minutes to avoid real work? You're looking for new bathroom reading material? Because I asked nicely?

Really, here's the deal. I like reading what other people have to say (well, some people anyway). I subscribe to a few blogs and look forward to reading them every day. I enjoy them because they either make me laugh or because I can personally relate to something they've written. I guess I'm hoping one of those things might happen here. Oh, and not to mention...ANYONE can write a blog. Literally. Anyone. Smart, dumb, rich, poor, young, old, short, tall, skinny, fat...ANYONE. I'm breathing so I meet the qualifications.



Some things I can tell you about my blog:
1.  The theme is mostly about me being a stay-at-home mom, because that's what I do. My "job", if you will. I'll be poking fun at MYSELF and my domestic [in]abilities.
2. I will not use real names. I'm using material from my life, so if you know me personally and think something I write sounds like it's about you, it might be. But, I will NOT use your name. So, the only person that will know it's you...is you. 
3. There might (will) be cussing. Not like a sailor, and nothing obscene. But, I'm guilty of using a 4-letter word here and there. I feel they can really help drive home a point. And sometimes they're just funny. But, I also think they can be overused - and then completely lose their effectiveness, so when you see them it will be sparingly.
4. I'd like to write every day, but I don't think that's very realistic for a couple of reasons. (a) I am notorious for getting bored halfway through finishing a project. (b) I know I will get writers block the minute I publicize this. I'm just hoping it doesn't last long.

If reading this was even the tiniest bit entertaining, please continue to tune in. Go back and read my previous posts (I read that you should make several entries before making your blog public, so like I said before - I've got a few up already). Share with your friends. I'm not above begging for an audience. I'd love to be a writer when I grow up.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Cock-a-Doodle Don't

We live in the central valley of California. There's a lot of farm land. And I mean a LOT. There are  either corn fields, nut orchards, fruit orchards, or vineyards within a mile north, east, and south of our house. There are even some dairy farms on the outskirts of town. We live on the edge of town, but not "in the country" per se.  We live in a neighborhood. You know, with curbs and gutters, and sidewalks, landscaping and greenbelts that are maintained by the city.

It seems that the new fad for city folk is to own chickens so they can harvest their own fresh eggs. Seems like a lot of unnecessary dirty, smelly work to me. I'd personally rather hop on down to my local grocer and pay the $2 that will get me a dozen eggs that did NOT require me to root around in a nasty cage of bird shiz. Just my personal preference.

It is not, however, the preference of our neighbors. And although it is against city ordinance, they have also decided to acquire a rooster. I hate that little asshole. Not only does he do his "roostering" (I know it's really called crowing, but I like "roostering" better) at dawn, but also around noon, and again around three o'clock. Last night he added a 5 o'clock rotation to his busy roostering schedule. When he starts doing that bullshit at 9:30 p.m. after the kids are asleep, it's gonna get real ugly.

I hate the rooster, but it's really misplaced anger. I can't blame him for his behavior. It's what roosters do. Like cats meow and dogs bark. I do, however, question the logic/intelligence/give-a-shit quotient of our neighbors. I mean, what was possibly going through their heads when making this decision? Here's what I imagine...

"You know, I LOVE to get up before the sun rises. Or maybe just as it is rising. I'll bet that would be great. What could I do to make that happen for me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY? Even on Saturdays and Sundays. An alarm clock? That's stupid. I know! I'll get a rooster! It'll wake me up with it's crowing...I mean can you even imagine a more beautiful sound first thing in the morning?! And he'll wake ALL of our neighbors, too. They'll love it. And they'll love me. I just know it."

Charming won't let me call the city on them because he doesn't want us to be THOSE neighbors. I'm obliging...for now...but I have a feeling these niceties aren't going to last long. I like freaking love to sleep. I am the type of person that wants to slap somebody for waking me up 5 minutes before my alarm clock goes off. Do you know how pissed I am when I am awoken TWO HOURS prematurely by Foghorn Leghorn next door? Jackasses.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Tube

I don't watch much daytime television, but since school has started, I will admit to tuning in to some of the morning talk shows. It's usually the 'Today' show, and if I haven't turned it off yet, it is followed by 'Live! With Kelly and Michael' (formerly Regis and Kelly). While I don't closely watch from beginning to end (cleaning the kitchen and folding laundry are usually what I do this time of day - impressive, right? I multi-task like a boss), I always manage to catch the part where they do a giveaway. You know, when they call someone at home who's sent in their name and if they can correctly answer a question about the previous day's show, they win a fabulous, ridiculously overpriced vacation. I really need to remember to send in my info.

Anywho...the segment in which they do these giveaways is always themed. Like, in the winter fake snow will fall from the ceiling, or at Halloween they'll play creepy background music. They seem to almost always have an audience member dress up in some sort of costume and dance over on the side of the stage. (I really do SWEAR that I don't watch this show all the time). Well, the current theme is Summer, and they have convinced people from the audience to don swimwear for this segment. I don't know if men are ever chosen (like I said, I don't watch EVERY day), but I've only ever seen women.

I have no idea what kind of incentive they are offering these ladies, but I can tell you whatever it is...it's not enough. Maybe they are really comfortable in their own skin, or perhaps they are hoping this will be their chance to be "discovered". But, these swimsuits are not the modest type. No tankinis or board shorts here. We're talking string bikinis. Four triangles leaving little to the imagination.

I can't help but think...you must have really stellar grooming habits that would enable you to wear something like that on a moment's notice! Was it coincidence? Or were you thinking, "You know, I'm going to the Live! show tomorrow. And let's face it - I'm smokin'. I better be ready just in case they ask me to put on a bikini and drop it like it's hot for the audience. After all, I'm the obvious choice."

Because, I'll tell you, the chicks I've seen are pleased as punch to be up there dancing their little hearts out for ALL OF AMERICA to see. They don't seem to be a bit self-conscious or embarrassed. They really shake it. I don't think I'd be able to perform anything more exciting than the white-man shuffle, with my head down, trying my best to inch off stage.

Kudos to these women for their self-confidence. But, after a couple of kids and a few cheeseburgers they could offer me Kelly's salary and I'd still turn down that gig.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Vogue

"Where are you going? Why did you get dressed up today?"

This is the reaction I get from Dimples when I put on anything other than workout wear in the morning. Or if I just match my shirt to my shorts...still workout wear.  (Because if I at least wear the clothes, I'm one step closer. Yes.)

We live less than a mile from the kids' school. Because most days I'm just not up for the whining about far it is, how hot it is, how cold it is, how long it takes, or why I feel the need to torture them so early in the morning, we usually just drive. Round trip - garage to garage (I clocked it today) - is 7 minutes. When someone can give me a good, solid reason why I need matching clothes or make-up for a 7 minute round-trip school drop off (where I don't even have to get out of the car), I'll put on my pearls and heels. Just kidding, I hardly ever wear pearls. Or heels.

But, seriously...I'm going home to - in all likelihood - clean something. Or fold something. Or cook something (okay, this one doesn't happen very often. Unless the crock pot counts). By myself. All day long. There are quite a few days (not ALL days - I do leave the house on occasion) that the only times I have a reason to venture out is to drop the kids off, and pick them back up. Why get dressed up for that?

HOWEVER, I admit I should probably step it up a notch - or two - in the wardrobe department. Every aspect of it. A few nights ago, Charming started laughing hysterically when I came out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. "What?" I ask. I was wearing some of my favorite "jammy pants" as I like to call them (valentine themed - little hearts all over them with a red drawstring - very cute if I may say so), and an old stretched out polo shirt that was once his (multi-colored stripes). It was an awesome ensemble, really. He said to me, "Please. Take some money. Buy some matching sleepwear. I don't even mean lingerie. I mean buy some bottoms. Then buy some tops to match. They can even be long pants and long sleeves. I don't care. Just match for crying out loud."

Whatever.


Saturday, September 22, 2012

Then and Now


We subscribe to Netflix and recently discovered that 'Leave it to Beaver' is available for our viewing pleasure! I love this show. Both Charming and I have always had an affinity for "old school" television, so you can imagine our excitement upon this discovery. Since then we have, much to the chagrin of our children, watched numerous episodes (forcing them to revel in its awesomeness). That Ward surely knew his stuff. And June? Boy does that woman have her shit together.

Given that the show was filmed from 1957 - 1963, I wasn't yet born and have no clue what life was like during this era. So, I can only assume that it was EXACTLY like the tv show. My mother assures me that it was not, but I kind of dig it so I have chosen to believe otherwise.

 I'm a "stay-at-home" mom. I find real humor in how much times and people have changed from "back in the day". Really - if you haven't ever seen this show, or it's been a while, try to catch an episode or two. It's hilarious. I'm confident that if Charming ever came home to me vacuuming in heels, he'd have me committed (or check the liquor cabinet because SURELY I've wiped it out to inspire such behavior).

THEN: Ward comes home after a long day at the office looking dapper with his custom-tailored suit and briefcase. June meets him at the front door with his drink, wearing a dress, apron, pearls, heels, and full make-up. "Hello, dear! Have a good day? Dinner's in the oven. It will be ready in just a few minutes."

Can you picture it? Hilarity.

NOW: Charming comes home after a long day at the office. He does/did look nice - slacks and a button-down shirt, which is halfway un-tucked by now. Tying up a conversation on his cell phone, the laptop bag is immediately thrown on the floor. I'm sitting on the couch putting on my tennis shoes. I've got on shorts and a t-shirt, and my hair is pulled into a ponytail. I should really put on a baseball cap because I didn't wash my hair today. I don't have on make-up...as a matter of fact, I've forgotten that I still have zit cream on my chin. Oh, and there's coffee spilled down my shirt from the speed bump I forgot about on the way to school - my outing for the day - but I didn't change because, again, I wasn't going anywhere.
"Hey. I was going to make dinner but I got all the crap out and realized I was missing an ingredient. Didn't get to the store because...well, I just didn't. Don't judge me. Anyway...I'm just gonna go to Taco Bell, so what do you want?"

I'll bet you can picture that one.

Okay, so this isn't how it goes down EVERY day. I do make dinner at home. Sometimes. And I don't always have stains on my clothes. But, this has happened in our house (more than once).

I think poking fun at myself is...fun. I frequently crack jokes at my own expense. Charming says I don't give myself enough credit. I think he's just trying to be nice. And stay married. Besides, if I wrote about how awesome I was at stuff, that would be lame.

"Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can." - Maxwell, Elsa

Friday, September 21, 2012

What's In a Name

It appears, from what I've seen on other blogs, that I need to give the members of my family aliases. You know, on the off chance that random people I don't know actually start reading this. Seems kind of silly, and probably pointless given the slim chance blogs have of catching on, but I'll play along, and that's how I'll get things started.

I've got two kids. A girl and a boy. The girl is the oldest. Witty, thoughtful, and tender-hearted, she is an all-around sweet child. But, she can also be a live wire and not-so-nice when the mood strikes (or she doesn't get her way). She's little bitty, but she packs a punch. So, I've decided her name will be "Tink" (As in Tinkerbell. That cute little fairy has a nasty streak.). We are inching our way into the teenage years, when I'm sure that unpleasant side will rear it's head a little more frequently. As precious as she is, I am under no delusion that I will not soon be living in the same hell as every other mother with a teenage daughter.

The boy. The baby of the family. He's funny. He laughs a lot, and he makes us laugh a LOT. The first thing every woman he encounters notices about him is his dimples. When he was born, my (female) doctor said, "He has dimples!" before she said anything else. Seriously? What happened to "It's a boy!" Anyway, these dimples...they are powerful...used wisely, they will take him far in life. So, he shall be called "Dimples".

The husband. That's proven to be a tough one. You will find that I am not a mushy, lovey, dovey, sweet pet-name kind of person. He has given me a few suggestions, none of which I  approved. I have decided on "Charming". As in the prince from Cinderella. Wait. Before you go rolling your eyes, hear me out. For all intents and purposes, he IS my Prince Charming in many ways. We met when we were 9 and we weren't much older than that when he told me he was going to marry me. I firmly believe he would search the kingdom far and wide to find me if he needed to (at least he would have before we were married...today he might just let my ass stay lost). He's also smart, witty, and romantic. HOWEVER, the prince in the story was a bit of a bonehead. First, he was out-run by a princess wearing one shoe.  One HIGH-HEELED shoe. Second, his plan to find her was just stupid. And also a huge indication that he paid very little attention to her FACE. Maybe the fairy tale we all read forgot to mention she had huge boobs. I don't know...most people are recognized by ways other than whether or not they can fit into a shoe. Seems fishy. So, MY Charming isn't quite so dim-witted. But, there are a couple of habits I just can't understand, no matter how hard I try...putting the plastic dry cleaning bags in the laundry hamper instead of the trash can (I mean, really?), asking me at 10 p.m. the night before leaving for a business trip if I washed a particular shirt (Of course I did. After all, I'm clairvoyant. And out of the 75 shirts you own, I knew THAT would be the one you wanted to take), looking for an item in the pantry/refrigerator/closet/drawer/cabinet and swearing it's not there...then I finally get up to look and find it within 3 seconds (he's convinced I spend my day hiding things from him. After all, I've got nothing better to do). But for all of his faults, he has three times the charm, so he's my "Charming".  

Me...I don't need a nickname, because I'm the author and I don't typically speak of myself in third person. But, if I DID, it would be "Mary Poppins". Practically perfect in every way. Ha! (For the sarcastically challenged, that was a joke.)