Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!

Please.....Please....Please.....

You must read this!

Fashion: n. what is deemed "instyle" to make you feel bad about yourself.

I have decided that I am going to create my own fashion magazine. I feel that I can do this because apparently anyone can.

Please take a look:

I mean, what kind of skill do you need to put this ensemble together? Who decides what IS fashion? Yes, I would like to put a yellow leather belt around my fur trimmed jacket....yes!

I think that there is a secret group of people (yes, another one of my conspiracy theories) that sits around and makes up this shit and just laughs at the rest of us trying to keep up. I mean, Boho chic? Really? Really??

Here’s how I imagine it going:

Fashionista #1: Hey do you think anyone could look good in this?

Fashionista #2: No. Not a chance.

Fashionista #1: That’s what I thought (laughing maniacally). I’m making it the new fad.

Fashionista #2: As always, you have outdone yourself.

Fashionista #1: Yes, yes I have. I can’t wait to see the fat housewives try to squeeze themselves into this!

And what about celebrities? Why do we look up to them? Please visit Go Fug Yourself. It has to be one of the absolute best websites out there for picking on the popular and making your poor wannabe self feel better. I know it sure helps me.

You Can't Get Quality At Target, People.

I am sick of crappy clothes. I usually buy name brand items that cost a little more because they last longer, but since I have been losing weight I have been buying cheaper clothes as I go through the sizes, because I can’t justify spending a lot of money on something that I may only get to wear for a month. But what’s up with crap that falls apart after one wash cycle?

Case in point: I purchased a cute shirt from Target. Not the best quality clothing store in the world, but you’d think you could get something that would last….oh I don’t know…..um…..a week! I wore the damn thing once, washed it, and the hem completely unraveled in the machine.

Of course I didn’t notice that the hem completely unraveled in the machine until I was at work and a thread that was poking out of the hem got caught on my chair and as I got up it proceeded to leave a trail connecting me to the chair as I walked to the bathroom. I think I must have walked 50 feet before I looked down and saw it. Luckily, it was very early and there were only about 3 other people at the office and no one noticed.

Why am I so pissed? I mean, I am REALLY pissed. I only spent $16.50 on the damn shirt. I have to sit at work and play on the internet for at least 45 minutes to earn $16.50. That’s hard work!

So, I am sitting here with the back of my shirt hanging down because it looks stupid tucked in (yes, even more stupid than with the hem hanging down). I am aggravated because I actually looked okay when I left the house this morning. Not like an event like looking good at home and then stupid at work is new to me.

Oh well, guess I’ll just have to go shopping at lunch.

Ain't Mug Shots Fun?

Do NOT look directly into her eyes. They will burn a hole in your soul!

Is it just me or are you disgusted that she is getting a book deal?

(Yes - I am aware that she may be mentally ill and my making fun of her looks may not be politically correct. If you are new to this blog please read this and you will see that I don't care - so there!)

What's in Your Closet?

I’m not really sure why this thought entered my mind today. But since it did I figured I would write about it. See I am a little frightened of closets. Yes…..you read that correctly…..closets.

I can trace this fear back to my childhood when my older sister told me about a dream she had about ghosts coming out of the closet and how she was scared of them. I guess I decided I should be scared of them too. So over the years I carefully nurtured my fear and as an adult I now have to make sure the closet is empty of boogey monsters, ghosts and crazed lunatics killers before closing the door and retiring to bed.

You would think that my strange relationship with my closet would end there. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

My husband knows about this weird tic of mine and will sometimes make fun, but has gotten used to the fact that he must close the closet door or he will incur my wrath. Knowing this, he tried to save me from myself, but I just had to keep pressing for information. Let me explain….

When we moved into an apartment back in ’99 we weren’t really happy with the small one bedroom, but it was really all we could afford. It had one large closet in the bedroom and that was pretty much it for storage space. I piled as much clothing in that closet as humanly possible and wasn’t really surprised when the entire thing collapsed. Unfortunately, it did it while I was sleeping and sounded like an explosion. It scared the shit out of me.

The apartment manager had the closet fixed and of course it collapsed not once, but twice more before they fixed it properly. I joked with my husband (then boyfriend) that the closet was haunted. He just kind of gave a half-hearted smile and didn’t comment. This should have been a red flag, but I didn’t notice. I just thought he was cutting me a break by not picking on me.

At that time my husband/boyfriend was a police officer. He had mentioned to me that when we decided to move we would be able to break the lease, he already had it all worked out. I asked him what he meant but he refused to comment. I pushed a little and finally gave up.

After several weeks of him making comments time to time about us getting out of our lease I hounded him incessantly to tell me what he meant.

Boyfriend: You really want to know?

Me: Yes, just tell me.

Boyfriend: You don’t really want to know. You won’t like it.

Me: How do you know what I’ll like or want to know? Just tell me, dammit.

Boyfriend: Trust me. I KNOW you won’t like this.

Me: Listen, I’m going to bug you until you tell me.

Boyfriend: Fine. I looked up our address at the station to see if anything ever happened here. Apparently the woman who lived here before us took a gun and blew her brains out while sitting in the closet in our bedroom.

Me: Um….I really didn’t want to know that. Why’d you tell me?

So there you have it. My suspicions confirmed. My closet was possessed. We moved the next week.

How To Not Pick Up A Girl

My friend RaceGirl lives in Charlotte, NC. She moved there to get a job in Nascar, which she has done. So I’m pretty proud of her. Not to mention that I am looking forward to the perks and free races, but anyway…..

RaceGirl was walking her dog the other day. She lives in a decent neighborhood. You don’t really have to worry about walking by yourself. As she passed a gas station a Hispanic-looking man smiled at her. RaceGirl smiled back (she is usually nice to everyone – unlike me).

I guess the guy took this as an invitation:

(Imagine a man speaking in a very thick Spanish accent – maybe Inigo Montoya in Princess Bride or Puss n’ Boots from Shrek 2.)

Guy at gas station: Hi. Good Evening.

RaceGirl: Hi. Have a nice day (continuing to walk by).

Guy at gas station: Wait! I want to caress your dog!

RaceGirl: What? (continuing to walk)

Guy at gas station: Come back. I want to caress your dog!

RaceGirl: Um. He’s doesn’t like people.

Guy at gas station: Please…come back and let me caress your dog!

Okay…..here’s a bit of advice to all you English as a second language speaking males out there. If you want to pick up a girl avoid the word “caress”. It puts up an immediate red flag and any interest we may have been entertaining is immediately killed.

So RaceGirl and I decided the story would have been a lot funnier if she had been walking a cat. But who really walks a cat? Oh well.

Find Enlightenment - Join Dietology Today

I promised everyone that I would get of the Scientology kick today. And I will keep my promise……sort of.

I decided that what is good enough for L. Ron Hubbard is good enough for me. So, in that light, I would like to introduce……dum da da dum dum dum……..

DIETOLOGY!

That’s right. The Church of Dietology is born.

(Now this post will be much more enjoyable if you just scroll down and read yesterday’s post first to get the Scientology background.)

Anyway….

Dietology is a new religion based on the belief that all of our unhappiness and insecurities are due to these “toxins” that are poisoning our bodies.

The only way to truly rid yourself of these toxins is to start a strict purification regime. To do this, please first send me $249.99, and I will send you a starter kit. This kit includes a copy of When Harry Met Sally and a Hershey Bar. But I promise you aren’t getting ripped off. These items have been blessed by the Dietology elders (i.e. me).

Upon receiving this kit you will watch When Harry Met Sally and eat your Hershey Bar at precisely the same time Billy Crystal is eating Mallomars in the movie. This will produce in you a state of calmness and subsequently induce you to send me more money where upon receipt, I will send you the kit for the next level.

Each kit will cost $249.99 until I have you completely hooked and then the price will go up drastically to $149, 867.32. Upon receipt of this ginormous fee, you will learn the whole story of how Dietology began.

See, about 42 billion years ago there lived an evil leader. Her name was Phatase (pronounced Fat Ass). She hated all the thin beautiful people in her world so she gathered them up and made them run on treadmills until they died from exhaustion. She then gathered up their souls and made them watch movies, brainwashing them to think that their thighs were too big, and to feel inadequate to super models. These souls were then shipped to what we now call Earth and stored until a baby girl was born. At birth, the souls (the aforementioned "toxins") will then enter each baby girl and torment her all her days. That is until you pay me to rid you of these demons!

So there you have it….Dietology. Join now, so that you too can be happy.

(Please act fast….I am trying to open a Dietology center in Philly. If you join you will have unlimited access to the center. We will burn images of super models in effigy and serve chocolate all day long!)

Driven By Sexuality, huh?

Apparently, according to Tickle.com, my subconcious mind is driven by SEXUALITY.

Wow....that is such a revelation! *sarcasm*

Take the test yourself......let me know how you do.

(It's the inkblot test - upper right hand corner of the Tickle homepage.)

Sorry....I Just Can't Let It Go

So I have to keep talking about this. You know......Tom and Katie and the whole scientology thing. Sorry.

While doing my daily conspiracy research I came across this article.

Apparently there is a questionnaire that you must go through when first entering scientology. You are hooked up to some machine that monitors your brainwaves and you are asked these questions by a trained scientologist. I thought it would be fun to answer some of the questions myself. (These were all supposedly taken from the actual scientology questionnaire.)

Picture me in a dark room, hooked up to some weird contraption, answering these questions. So, here goes......

1. Have you driven anyone insane?

I would have to definitely say "yes", however, I cannot truly be sure of this answer because everyone that I am sure I have driven insane has subsequently disappeared.... hhmmmm.....that's interesting.

2. Have you ever killed the wrong person?

Now wouldn't this question just by its verbage indicate that I was initially trying to kill someone? Good try.

3. Is anybody looking for you?

Not right now. I told my husband I'd be home by 6.

4. Have you ever set a poor example?

Did my mom ask you to ask me that?

5. Did you come to Earth for evil purposes?

Um....what? Are you insinuating that I am not of this Earth?

6. Are you in hiding?

I may be.....from you, after this interview is over.

7. Have you systematically set up mysteries?

I suppose I would have to answer "yes", but only with men I have dated.

8. Have you ever made a practice of confusing people?

Apparently I do this to my husband on a daily basis.

9. Have you ever philosophized when you should have acted instead?

As much as possible. It's called procrastination.

10. Have you ever gone crazy?

Do you want the list alphabetically?

11. Have you ever sought to persuade someone of your insanity?

My INsanity? No. My sanity, yes.

12. Have you ever deserted, or betrayed, a great leader?

A "great" leader? Well this one time I was interning at the White House. I was wearing my pretty blue dress......

13. Have you ever smothered a baby?

Um.....with kisses. Who are you freakin' people?

14. Do you deserve to have any friends?

Most days.

15. Have you ever castrated anyone?

Only in my vivid revenge dreams!

16. Do you deserve to be enslaved?

Deserve? I don't know. There is this guy I pay......but that's another story.

17. Is there any question on this list I had better not ask you again?

Um.....all of them?

18. Have you ever tried to make the physical universe less real?

Everyday.......alas.....everyday.

19. Have you ever zapped anyone?

Only when I was dressed as Marvin the Martian for Halloween.

20. Have you ever had a body with a venereal disease? If so, did you spread it?

Okay.....Am I actually inhabiting this body....or do you mean "had" another body in the sexual sense? You are confusing me.

All right.....those were the questions. Now I don't know about you......but I am so in with the scientology thing. I mean who wouldn't want to be part of this cult....I mean religion?

This sounds like an organization that would make my family proud!

And it gets even better......

Apparently when you get to the upper level of Scientology you learn the "true" story behind how it all began. See there was this great leader, Xenu, who ruled about, oh, 76 planets or so. He wanted to rid the overpopulation on the planets so he sent all these people to Earth (which was called Teegeak back then) and tied them to a volcano and blew them up with an H bomb killing them all.

Now this is where is starts (hmmm.....sarcasm?) to get weird....

Killing people doesn't always get rid of them you know. You have to gather up their souls and take them to the movies.....then once they are brain washed their souls will stick together and inhabit the bodies of the leftover Earthlings...oh, Teegeaks, sorry.

So now the reason we have problems is because we are possessed by these souls called Thetans. Pretty cool, huh?

So are you ready to sign up?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay.....

Here's my first Minivan Challenge.

PreppyGirl, HippyChick and Yoda (need a guy's perspective)...... please feel free to answer some of the above Scientology questions. Let's say....oh, at least 5. Your choice.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Post Script - I promise tomorrow I will move on to another subject.....promise.......)

Tom Cruise and the Plot to Take Over the World

I’m going to preface this post with the acknowledgement that I have put way too much thought into this. I do realize that this is a completely frivolous topic and it may make me look shallow and pathetic. But I can’t help it. I have to talk about it……

I am very confused about this Tom and Katie thing.

Yes, I know. It’s like looking at a car wreck isn’t it? I am fascinated. Who believed him when he was on Oprah?

I was actually at home the day it was on and watched it first hand. At first I was thinking that it was sweet. How nice for him to be in love like that. He seemed truly happy. Then at about the third time he jumped on the couch and then dropped to his knee to do the little arm pump thingy I was getting a little creeped out.

I mean, here’s this 42 year old guy who is usually VERY private and he’s acting like he is 15 and in love for the first time. It seemed really over the top. But I still thought….Ok, so they are just REALLY in love and maybe he really has never felt like this before. Ok, so it’s sweet and just a little creepy.

Then I started reading the news reports about Katie’s “missing time” and her new devotion to scientology. So maybe this is an orchestrated move to boost publicity for upcoming summer movies and to suppress the homosexual talk that tends to gravitate around Tom Cruise.

Sidebar - Let me say that if Tom Cruise is gay its ok. I personally would be disappointed because I would have liked a piece of that, but its ok. To each their own. He should do what makes him happy.

Anyway…..

I believe that there are 3 possible truths to the “TomKat” situation:

1. Tom and Katie are really, truly in love and we are all horrible people who should mind our own business and just be happy for them.

2. This is all a ploy to boost publicity and hide Tom’s rampant homosexuality.

3. Tom Cruise and Scientologists are trying to take over the world and they are using the Tom and Katie thing to deter us from viewing the big picture and keep us from stopping their nefarious plot.

I personally think its 3, but I also believe that aliens are using me for some sick experiment and suppressing my memories of the perfect life that I actually have but have been forced to forget.

What do you think?

(Post Script - If you go and see Batman Begins or War of the Worlds this summer and leave the theater wanting to find out more about scientology - question it.....that's all I'm saying.)

The "Jax" Sandwich Saga

My 3 year old can sometimes be a picky eater. His dad came up with a great idea to get him to eat when nothing seems to tempt his palate.

He took a normal peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut it with a circle sandwich press and dubbed it the “Jax” sandwich (named after our dog).

When Charlie won’t eat anything else he will eat a “Jax” sandwich.

About 4 days ago Charlie just wouldn’t eat. I asked him if he would like a “Jax” sandwich. He said yes, happily helped me make it, and proceeded to eat the entire thing.

About an hour later his dad got home. We began discussing how dirty the kids get at school and how they usually come home covered with dirt from the playground. My husband goes over to Charlie and notices something on his left ear.

“What is this, Sherri?” He asks.

“What?” I reply.

“This right here. On his ear.”

I look at Charlie’s ear. It looks like the skin on the top of his left ear is burned and blistered. The skin is mushed and looks disgusting.

“Oh, my gosh! Do you think this happened at school?” I exclaim.

“Must have,” he replies. “It wasn’t there this morning when I dropped him off.”

“Get the camera. He might need to see a doctor for this and I want documentation.”

His dad leaves to get the camera and I take a closer look at Charlie’s ear. Something doesn’t look quite right. I go to touch Charlie’s ear…..

“Don’t do that!” His dad exclaims, returning with the camera. “You’ll hurt him.”

“No, I don’t think this will hurt,” I say as I get a paper towel and wipe Charlie’s ear.

It was peanut butter. And we were ready to go to the hospital……. Doh.

Mean People and Brain Tumors

There’s a woman I know that I can’t stand. I mean she grates on my last nerve. She’s one of those people who is very self-important, always gossiping and will stab you in the back just as soon as look at you. Just the sight of her can ruin my day.

I had the “pleasure” of living across the street from her for about a year. Within twelve short months she spread rumors to all the neighbors about me and my husband and literally made us the neighborhood outcasts.

She told everyone that we were calling our neighborhood association complaining about noise (we didn’t) and that we were in meetings with the association president trying to get one couple evicted from the complex (we weren’t) and even went as far as calling the association and saying she was a friend of mine (she isn’t) and asked for information because she wanted to “help” me.

She sounds awful, right? The kind of person that you completely despise and wish bad things on…….

Well, she has a brain tumor.

That’s right….a big, spidery brain tumor that is taking over the left side of her brain and spreading around her ear. She used to always complain that her ear hurt.

When we heard the news I was with an old former neighbor of hers. His first comment was, “hmmm….maybe that’s why she was so mean.” Nice, huh? That’s just how bad she was (is).

So now I feel bad. Of course I didn’t cause this brain tumor, even with all my ill will. I have actually never even done anything to this woman except avoid her when I see her coming.

Why is it that we always feel sorry for people and want to do things for them when they are sick? I mean, even when they aren’t nice people? I guess it is just the humanity in us. I would like to think that we are all essentially good people. Even her. Maybe there are reasons that I just don’t know of or understand that could explain her busy-body behavior.

I don’t know. I just hope she will be ok.

What You Don't Learn In Parenting Class

I’m writing this one for those of you who aren’t mothers yet….or maybe you are a new mother. There is a technique that they don’t teach you in parenting class. It is extremely valuable and can save you many sleepless nights. I like to call it…..

The Ninja Stealth Diaper Change.

That’s right….NSDC for short is a technique that has been passed down in my family for generations. While I am pretty sure my ethnic background is Irish, with nary a ninja among them, the title still fits. You need to be quick, smooth and have the courage of a great warrior. Who else would have the nerve to move a sleeping baby?

Curious about this great technique? Let me review last night’s episode.

I go into the boys’ room to do the last late night check and round of kisses before retiring myself. I kiss Charlie, arrange him back properly in his bed (he is always getting turned upside down), and cover him up. I go over to the crib to kiss Matthew’s forehead. Sniff? What the…? Oh No! It can’t be! It is…..POOP!

That’s right. The house is quiet. I am ready to sleep. The baby is sleeping peacefully and his diaper is full of poop. Every mother knows you just can’t leave it. If you do you will be up all the next night with the baby crying over a diaper rash. There is only one thing you can do…..

Ninja Stealth Diaper Change!

I will outline the basic technique:

1. Always keep a sleeping baby horizontal. One of the biggest mistakes amateurs can make is to shift a sleeping child to a vertical position. Slide your hands under him smoothly, in one quick motion, moving him as little as possible.

2. If your child uses a binky (pacifier, whatever) make sure it is either in his mouth or handy.

3. You should already have a diaper and wipes ready where you plan to change the child. If you do not have a wipe warmer do not…I repeat DO NOT USE COLD WIPES. This is where most individuals using the ninja stealth technique go off course. If you have no other option, run paper towels under warm water in place of wipes. I cannot stress this enough.

4. Make sure the room is dimly lit where you are changing the sleeping baby. You may need a flashlight to ensure you have thoroughly cleaned your sleeping bundle. If you do not have help, just hold it in your teeth. Of course, this may be difficult if you have the 1970 jumbo flashlight.

5. Unhook all fastenings very slowly to avoid jostling the baby. Do a second review to ensure this step is complete. Nothing can wake a baby faster (other than cold wipes) than that one snap hanging on and pulling a little leg in the wrong direction.

6. Okay…..the diaper. Place the new diaper under the old. Unhook the old quickly. Wipe fast and firmly. Don’t dawdle here. You will need all your courage mustered up. YOU CAN DO THIS! Do a quick poop review with the flashlight and fasten new diaper. (Remember new moms….if the house is warm don’t worry about putting the pajama pants back on. This is a move for those more advanced in this technique. Trying it too soon may result in disaster).

7. Finally, as in step 1, keep baby horizontal and gently lay back in bed.

You may now do a silent victory dance. You have successfully completed the ninja stealth diaper change. You can now sleep peacefully….well until your baby wakes you up at 3am teething like mine did this morning…..but, that grasshopper, is a lesson for another day.

The PC World is Gettin' Me Down

I have noticed lately that the world has gone insane. It is shocking to me that we are so consumed with political correctness and “doing the right thing” that we have lost all common sense.

For example, my post from yesterday. The Philadelphia Museum of Art was more concerned that my child might fall and hurt himself and I’d sue them, than they were in protecting valuable works of art from small, sticky fingers.

And what about Michael Jackson? I mean who really thinks he is innocent? Give me a break. Next time I want to break the law I'm going to California!

I think the problem is that we have become a society of blame. No one wants to take responsibility for themselves and their own actions. We want it to be someone else’s fault and we want to get paid for it.

Due to this “finger-pointing” mentality we have become so scared of voicing opinions and doing what is unpopular that we try to cater to every nutcase around.

My mom recently told me that some schools are going to a 1-2-3 or circle, square, diamond rating system. You know because A, B and C is just too much pressure for small children. I mean if you get a B and your friend gets an A – oh no! How will you handle it?

Or how about little leagues letting all kids play to be fair? Nevermind the idea of getting to play because you have ability and skill.

Here’s a newsflash people – life ain’t fair. We need to challenge our children and teach them about how the world works. If we keep coddling and catering we will just continue raising a society of politically correct pansies who cower at every turn.

You know what else irritates me? (Don’t worry – I’ll tell you.) Putting the word “person” in every saying. Policeperson, Fireperson, Chairperson, Flight Attendant (vs. Stewardess), etc.

I’m a woman who doesn’t give a shit about the fact that most terms are masculine.

Policeman – whatever.

I’m mean really, are women as a whole that insecure? Come on ladies – stop being our own worst enemies and focus on other issues. How about equal pay and better prenatal care? How about paternity leave so mothers who want to work don’t have to put their careers on hold?

So you don’t agree with me? Fine. Stop being so politically correct and give your opinion. There’s a comment section right there on the bottom of this post.

And if you have other issues? Write your congressman.

(Politically Correct Disclaimer....

If I have offended anyone....awww....who am I kidding - I don't care!)

Piggy Back Police

So, once again I have been neglecting my blog. I know all three of you that read this are disappointed in me. (Okay, maybe 4 of you).

Anyway, my parents were in town this weekend. As you can see in the previous post, Matthew turned 1 this weekend. But I won’t bore you with the things you aren’t interested in. I know you all want to hear about how I embarrassed or hurt myself, right?

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint. But I will tell you about my brush with the law.

Well, not so much the law as security.

Well, not so much security as “museum attendant”.

I took my parents to the Philadelphia Museum of Art yesterday. My mom paints and I thought it would be something they would enjoy that also included air conditioning! It was about 95 degrees outside yesterday, so outside was out of the question!

So, we are in the museum and I brought my two children – ages 1 and 3. You know how kids are….into everything.

Charlie (age 3) is running and touching everything. Buzzers are buzzing, expensive vases are wobbling, sippy cups are flying, droplets of juice are jettisoned thorough the air. I see this all in slow motion as I stand powerless, unable to stop him due to the wiggling one year old in my arms.

Speaking of the one year old….there is a trail of snacks behind us in Hansel and Gretel-ish fashion. At least we won’t lose our way.

Now I understand that this isn’t appropriate for the art museum. Truly I do. And I would have never done this if my parents weren’t in town. But sometimes you have to do the unpopular.

So you think someone would have said something to us during this utter chaos and complete disregard for the valuable pieces in the museum, right? Nope.

You know what they were concerned with?

Apparently carrying your child piggy back is very dangerous.

Museum Attendant: Ma’am? For safety reasons please don’t carry your child on your back.

Me: Excuse me? What?

Museum Attendant: Please don’t carry your child on your back. Someone could get hurt.

Me: Um….okay.

I don’t know. Does this seem odd to you? I didn’t really think that a piggy back ride was dangerous.

Who knew?

Happy Birthday Matthew

Just had to be the proud Mommy! It's Matthew's first birthday. Don't you wish you could eat cake with the abandon of a 1 year old?



Happy First Boo Boos!

What I Look Like....

For those of you who don't know me and are curious as to what I look like, wait no longer.....

Here I am!



Well, if I were a Southpark character. Please note the presence of beer and the badass weapons take nothing away from my delicate nature!

Broken?

Most of you have probably noticed the little girl icon on the top right hand corner of my blog that shows what mood I'm in from day to day. Well, at the time of this post it has been on "broken" for two days. A couple people have asked me what this means and I thank you for your concern.

I think the consensus is that I must be feeling broken. That some horrible thing is affecting my mood or I am in some deep thought process and full of angst. Oh... if it were that complex and interesting. No, the reality is.....

I fell down the stairs.

That's right race fans. I am a klutz.

I am constantly reminding my 3 year old to hold my hand going down the stairs. I don't know what it is with houses up North, but the stairs are extremely steep. And the stairs in our new house are really shallow, too. Your entire foot barely fits on the step. I think the builders get together and drink beer and laugh about all the people that are going to fall down these stairs. I can hear them now:

"Joe, you made those stairs in 1149 extra shallow, right?"

"Sure did Bob. I can't wait until that new lady falls down those stairs!"

" I know its gonna be great. Wish I could be there to see it."

So I'm ready for work on Wednesday morning. I take my 3 year old by the hand.

"Okay honey. Hold Mommy's hand so you don't fffaaaaaalllllllll."

At precisely the time the word fall is coming out of my mouth, my foot slips off the top step. My feet start to flail in the air. I am reminded of the Fred Flintstone bowling wind up. My left foot then hits the second step with all of my body weight behind it, twisting my ankle. At the same time my right hand smacks into the banister, scraping the skin off in such a way that will later leave a nice bruise. Both my knees then hit the fourth step which propels me somehow further into the air as my body unnaturally twists to the right and I land on the floor hitting my left hip and then my head.

Now all of this takes precisely 2.4 seconds but it seems like 10 minutes. Here is a replay of what is going on in my head:

Gosh we really need to get going. Oh there's Charlie. Let me get his hand so he doesn't fa.......Ahhhhhh!!! What is this? Why aren't my feet touching the ground? Oh crap, I'm falling. Okay let me grab the railing. Oh no! What was that cracking? Oh! My ankle! Okay reach for the railing again. Ow! Crap! I missed. That's gonna leave a mark. Oh! My knees! Grab the railing Sherri. Oh crap....my feet are now higher than my head. Oh! My hip! Oh! My head! Okay. Have I stopped? I'm on the ground. Where's Charlie?

So I take a minute to assess the damage. Nothing's broken but I'm stunned. I don't really feel like getting up yet. I look up and Charlie is staring at me from the top of the stairs.

"Mommy are you all right?" he asks.

"See what happens when you don't hold on." Ever the Mom I reply. "Go tell Daddy I need him."

Now my son can yell. I mean he has a big mouth. He is constantly waking up his little brother. He turns to the bedroom where my husband is and goes:

"Daddy. Mommy fall down. She need you." he whispers.

"Charlie! Tell Daddy I need him. Please, go knock on the door. Yell if you have to."

I hear:

knock. knock. knock. "Daddy. Mommy fall down. Come out."

Crap. This isn't working.

I climb up the stairs on my hands and knees and get my husband myself.

"I fell down the stairs." I tell him.

"What? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks.

"Just my pride and my ego. The rest will heal." I answer humbly.

So, that is the story behind broken.

*taking a bow*

And You Say She's Just A "Friend"...

I mentioned in my last post that I spent the weekend with some old friends. I have known my friend PreppyGirl and most of her family for the past 15 years. I remember a trip to visit her family back in 1992.

I was 22, PreppyGirl was 21, her dad was 42, his girlfriend was 23.

I’m fine with May/December relationships. My mom is in fact married to a man that is 14 years younger than she is. I thinks its great that people can find each other regardless of age. However……

I wonder how I’d feel if my mom’s husband was younger than me. That’s what PreppyGirl is now dealing with.

On this trip I am 34, PreppyGirl is 33, her dad is 55, his “friend” is 30.

Okay….25 years, not so bad. But the chick was a sophomore when my friend graduated high school. Yes, they went to high school together.

So…not so bad right? We’re all adults you say? Hmmmm……

Please try to imagine:

PreppyGirl and I are sitting at the bar. We are wondering why her dad ran out of the house when his “friend” picked him up. We thought it would have been nice if he had brought her in to meet us. As they walk through the door we realize why this didn’t happen.

“Friend” is wearing skin tight black, silky pants with heels. She has on a neon orange shirt. It has this metal thing that goes around her neck and just hangs down in the front and ties around her waist. That’s it. Everything is exposed. You can see the sides of her big, fat boobies. IT’S GROSS! But it gets worse….

She has her hair pulled in pig tails and she is so tan her skin looks like a dark brown leather couch.

So she walks in the bar, and PreppyGirl’s dad introduces us. We are polite and smile and the skank, I mean “friend”, says, “I see the look on your face, we’re just friends.”

Ummm….yeah, ok. Whatever. And you just felt the need to add that tidbit there did ya?

You know…..let me help you with that image…..it kind of looked something like this:



Please forgive the crude drawing. This is my artistic vision of what it looked like.

(disclaimer: Please note that I think PreppyGirl's dad is a great guy and I will someday hopefully be her new mommy - I am older that she is after all - and I am in no way saying anything bad about him. The "friend" however, was definitely a skank. Sorry.)

The Wig Revolution

It’s funny how your hair can change not only your appearance but your attitude. I have always been partial to my hair. I guess some would call it vanity. Whatever.

I had the opportunity to spend the weekend with two of my friends that I spent most of the early 90’s partying with. We are all moms now, each having two children. We even look like moms. Somehow the “momness” just starts to seep out of your pores and people just know. Apparently, bouncers at bars know too…..we never get carded anymore.

So I’m hanging out with PreppyGirl and HippyChick (Yes, the same from the Search for Tommy Adams.) and HippyChick needs to run by the hotel. She wants to pick up her wig.

“What????” I ask. “You have a wig?”

“Yes I do. It’s long and blonde. I’m going to start a wig revolution” she responds.

“And I also need to change”, she adds.

So PreppyGirl and I think she’s just kidding about the wig. We go to the hotel. HippyChick changes clothes, touches up her makeup, and goes into the bathroom. A moment later she walks out looking like this.



Ohmigod! She has a wig. And as much as I want to laugh I can’t…..cause she looks hot. I want a wig too…..I’m so jealous. She went from mom to hottie in 4.2 seconds. And now she has long blonde hair.

My Week in Review

I have been informed that I have neglected my blog this week, which is in some ways true. I wanted to write, honestly I did. I just had things to do. Things that actually took me outside of my house. I know…..weird, huh? I am usually such a homebody.

I don’t really have any one specific thing to talk about today. I just wanted to share some brief observations and occurrences from the past week.

So....dum da da da da dum!!!! (That was my best fan fare.)


The Clothes Make the Woman

Last Friday I wore a sweater to work. This in itself would not be newsworthy. But my office is really cold, even though it got to about 80 degrees outside. And a sweater is no big deal because I have air conditioning in my car for the ride home.

But I didn’t go home after work. My husband put my 3 year old on the phone begging to go see the Blue Angels. So I went directly from work to the military base to see the Blue Angels. And in case you have never been to an air show…..when it is about 80 degrees outside, the temperature on the airfield feels like its about 90…..and I was wearing a sweater.

So, yes I was hot. And everyone around me was wearing shorts and tank tops. So I can only imagine what they were thinking as they saw me sweating in black jeans and a sweater.

To remedy this I decided to buy a t-shirt. But of course the only t-shirts they had were Blue Angels t-shirts. I got to be the kid who goes to the concert wearing the band's t-shirt.

Look at me….I love the Blue Angels so much I had to buy this t-shirt and immediately put it on. I am sooooo excited!

I felt stupid.

Oh well.


Road Rage (and Reading While Driving)

I was in the lunchroom at work on Wednesday when I overheard several of my coworkers talking about road rage.

Kay: I have a perfect remedy for road rage.

Star Wars Fan: (Yes we have one of those here) What’s that?

Kay: I am going to build a James Bond car complete with guns and the ability to create an oil slick.

Star Wars Fan: That would be cool.

Kay: Then when someone makes me mad I can dump oil in front of them and make them wreck. And if that doesn’t work I can shoot them.

(By the way, Kay is a Buddhist and a vegetarian who is very into yoga….interesting, no?)


But…..I can definitely relate. The traffic in Pennsylvania is terrible. And for some reason they don’t believe in turn signals. Very few traffic lights have them. So at anytime when the light turns green you can expect about 3 cars to turn right in front of you. I feel like ramming them. It makes me crazy. And speaking of crazy….

This brought me back to an incident a few months ago. I was driving home from work when a city bus pulled up next to me. I look over and the bus driver is wearing leather driving gloves (You know because those buses are speedy!). I found this amusing.

Then I noticed him pull out the newspaper. He propped it up on the big bus steering wheel and started to read. Then as the traffic started moving, he folded up his newspaper and drove. When the bus stopped, he opened up his paper again and continued reading.

Does anyone other than me find this to be a problem? Just wondering.

I guess he actually needed the gloves to keep the newsprint off his fingers.


That Juice in Your Hair

I walked in the lunchroom this morning. Four of my male coworkers were talking about haircuts. I just thought this was funny.

(Conversation already in progress)

B: And then when you’re done they put that juice in your hair.

W: Yeah…..I hate that stuff.

Me: (what the….?) That juice in your hair?

B: You know, after you get a haircut.

Me: (smartass…I know) You mean gel?

B: Yeah, gel.