People I Wish I Didn't Know

I wish that, when I heard the following names, I was able to stare blankly at the person speaking. I resent that I have any personal knowledge of them at all. I wish that I had no idea whatsoever of the exploits and tribulations of the following people:

~Kevin Federline
~Lindsay Lohan
~Paris Hilton
~Paris Hilton’s dog
~Tara Reid (not to be confused with Paris Hilton’s dog)
~Ryan Seacrest and his Frozen Face
~Bill O’Reilly
~Lil’ Kim
~and Jessica Simpson plus her creepy, creepy father

That is all for now. You may now go back to your regular activities.

    My college girlfriends

    There is nothing like the friends you make in college. I am fortunate in that most of my college girlfriends live in this area, and after all this time they remain my closest and dearest friends. 5 or 6 years ago, we all lived close to one another in the city. A few of us were married, but most were not. We mixed and matched roommates among ourselves, and when we went out it was often together. We saw each other all the time, we would drop by in our jammies for coffee on a Saturday, we had spats and we had fun and we spent lots and lots of time together.

    And now– all but one of us is married (and she is engaged). Three of us have children. Emergency relationship issues that rally us together used to be, “I don’t think he’s going to call me again,” and now they are, “I am afraid I married the wrong person.” My emails to Ali are filled with recipes for homemade baby food, and when we throw parties they are for 1st and 2nd birthdays, instead of for the sole purpose of hooking up Ann and John. We have mortgages and careers and, when we got together last Wednesday night for Jane’s 30th birthday, most of us came straight from work (and left early, too– staying out until 3AM on a school night is for amateurs. BTDT.). Oh my God– we are functioning adults– when did that happen?!?!

      Random Thoughts, mostly kid-related

      Thursdays are like a big tease. You’re almost close enough to call it the weekend, yet you still have to get through Friday.

      I have a friend with a 15-month-old daughter. I like her and her husband a lot. But for some reason, their little girl just doesn’t appeal to me. When I pick her up, talk to her, play with her etc., I’m totally just doing it to be polite. I feel really bad about this.

      What is it about some kids that makes them appealing, and others that makes them totally not?

      My friend just had her second child and named her something that I don’t really care for. I said, “Oh, that’s so pretty!” and now I wonder: of all the people who tell me what a gorgeous name Gabrielle is, what percentage is being truthful?

      My coworker got a tattoo at about the same time as I got my last tattoo. Hers is so stupid and mine is so cool.

      (Hers is Pegasus the winged horse, mane romantically windblown, rearing up on its hind legs in apparent battle mode, in full color. See– I told you.)

      I am constantly congratulating myself over how beautiful my children are, but I would never admit that out loud.

      Dave reformatted my desktop, which I really appreciate. He also changed a bunch of my settings, like automatic powering down and reversion to screen saver. Which really annoys the crap out of me.

      I love Cup O’ Noodles. Like, passionately love it. I have one for lunch at least 90% of the time when I’m in the office.

      When the kids wake up at night, Dave gets up with them 9 times out of 10. I not only take it for granted, but if he doesn’t wake up and I have to get the kids at night, I’m unreasonably irritated with him. I know this is terrible.

        My New Tattoo, and my suspicious friend

        A few evenings ago I took the kids to McDonald’s (at their request) for a sundae. When I tried to pay, I discovered that the man in front of us (who had already left) paid for our sundaes! It made my day– how nice of him, right? Anyway, the next morning we had some friends over for waffles, and I told them about the Good Samaritan at McD’s. And my friend’s husband immediately looked suspicious and annoyed. According to him, no one ever does something like that unless they think they’ll get somewhere, and the guy had some kind of ulterior motive. Nothing I said dissuaded him– “But he left!” “Nothing’s stopping him from coming back again at the same time, to see if you return too.” “He didn’t even talk to me!” “Just adds to the mystique. You’re still talking about him, right?” “I had the kids with me!” “He must like moms.” “I was wearing my wedding ring!” “Do you think that stops people?” etc. Then he eventually said, “Women with lower-back tattoos are sending out a message, like it or not.”

        … I guess we got to the bottom of that little controversy, didn’t we?

          My siblings have the bodily function obsession, too.

          My brother and his wife are looking for houses in new construction neighborhoods, and he just called to ask about a neighborhood near me. While we were talking, I asked him how they had liked a neighborhood they looked at on Sunday. Well, it turns out they have totally crossed that neighborhood off the list. Why? Because, in the very first model, they were looking at the basement and in my brother’s words, “The salesman blew a huge cloud of ass right in the stairway, and we had to walk through it to get back out!!!” Evidently my pregnant sil was so grossed out at having to walk through it, that they left and don’t ever want to return to that neighborhood, much less live in one of the tainted houses.

          I was laughing so hard that my abs hurt. How awful to be 7 months pregnant, and have to walk through a cloud of stink, generated by someone who probably has fast food for lunch at his desk every day. But how freaking hilarious that, now, they don’t even want to LIVE there.

          God, that’s still funny to me.

            WTF. Honestly now, WTF.

            My husband is in a phase where he feels that I do most of the housework, and he wants to do more of it. This is actually not true– Dave and I share the housework pretty equally most of the time. But for whatever reason this comes up every once in awhile, mainly when the dog is shedding tufts of fur all over the house and I spend every waking moment vaccuuming. Like now. So naturally, Dave has decided to do more housecleaning. Only, he cleans in the most nonhelpful way when in this phase. He’ll spend 3 hours cleaning out the kitchen closet. He’ll take up most of his day, madly yanking everyone’s sheets, blankets, and mattress pads off their beds and arranging everything into his miniscule laundry loads (example from real life: one pair of my panties and Gabby’s crib sheet). He spends hours tearing things apart, only to realize it’s 4:00 and he has only 30 minutes to do any actual cleaning, if that makes sense. So, I was out of town at a baby shower on Saturday, and while I was gone Dave “cleaned” the bathrooms. But over the past few days, I have gradually discovered what he did and did not get done:

            He did not:
            ~Mop any floors.
            ~Scrub any toilets. (HELLO!!!!! Isn’t that the most important part of cleaning the bathroom!?!?!?)
            ~Clean any mirrors.
            ~Empty the trash cans.

            He did:
            ~Clean out all bathroom cabinets, including my tampon cabinet (why?!?).
            ~Throw away my pantiliners by mistake.
            ~ Soak everyone’s toothbrush in toothbrush cleaner.
            ~ Scrupulously clean all chrome fixtures with chrome cleaner.
            ~ Write me a naughty message in tub crayon in the kids’ bathroom.

            If, God forbid, anything were ever to happen to me, Dave and the kids would live in a weird amalgam of half-sterilized, half-filthy rooms. I love him like crazy, but his cleaning philosophy will forever elude me.

              I just wonder.

              Let me set some facts before you all, and get your opinion on whether it’s just some bad coincidences, or whether something sounds off in this family. It’s something that came to my attention yesterday, and I can’t get it out of my head:

              There is a boy and a girl in this family, ages 4 and 5. Their mother is home full-time and their father works 2 jobs to support them. One night last week, the kids snuck out of the house and had to be brought home by the police– it was about 8pm, the mom had gone out and the dad was asleep. Both parents say that the kids love to sneak out of the house. Also, the father said that, when he comes home from his night job at 7:30am, he often finds the 2 kids up by themselves, having gone into the cabinets and gotten some food (he gave as an example, that they made themselves sandwiches last week out of butter, strawberries, Little Debbies and bread, so not exactly grabbing some fruit snacks out of the pantry). Both parents said that the kids tend to wake up at night, too, to sneak around and get food out of the cabinets. Also, no car seats were evident in the back seat of their car, however they do live quite close by so maybe it was just more convenient not to bring them (although I guess, why weren’t the seats physically in the car to begin with? Don’t know).

              Okay, so any one of these things could be explained away, I suppose. But taken all together, it just bothers me, especially in light of their ages. Am I being judgmental? Or does this feel wrong to you, too?

                “So You Think You Can Dance.”

                I am not a fan of reality shows and “American Idol” in particular. But I walked past the television last night and saw 5 seconds of the dance contest show, “So You Think You Can Dance,”…. and oh my God, I was glued to the set until it was over. GLUED. My favorite part: the young man who strode onstage with what looked like a baby’s arm stuffed down the front of his shiny black shorts, and proceeded to do a classically-styled dance with that long ribbon thing, as though he was a Ukrainian gymnast. Then he was eliminated for not being masculine enough, and he managed to both be shocked at this accusation and cry like a girlie at the same time.

                It was awesome.

                  Excerpt from a telephone conversation

                  [My extension rings at the office.]

                  Julie: This is Julie.
                  Caller: Carla?
                  Julie: No, this is Julie. There is no Carla here.
                  Caller: …….um, who did you say you were?
                  Julie: Julie.
                  Caller: Who did I call?
                  Julie: You called my cell phone.
                  Caller: ….. this isn’t Official Canvas and Supply?
                  Julie: No, it’s my cell phone.
                  Caller: This isn’t Carla?
                  Julie: No, it’s Julie.
                  Caller: ……do you kn–
                  Julie: I’m sorry, but I do not know who Carla is.
                  Caller: …….well, can you t–
                  Julie: And I do not know the phone number for Official Canvas.
                  Caller (brightening): Oh, you’ve heard of them?
                  Julie: Only because you asked me about them just now. I’m sorry, sir, you have the wrong number.
                  Caller: Okay. Because, yeah, I am looking for Carla.

                  Transactions like these, sad to say, take up a disproportionately large amount of my time.

                    Update: Gabby and the raisins

                    [From another AIM message of my husband’s:]

                    Dave: btw…I could just kick your ass over gabby’s raisin dumps

                    Dave: she just blew out another pair of shorts

                    Dave: The next time you decide to give her a bucket of raisins, you’re staying home for the next two days. She has gone through 5 pairs of shorts– there is only one way to describe what is going on here: “ass-plosions.”

                    [Hmmm….. maybe I need to stay late at work, let Gabby finish working this through her system….]

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