Would anyone really notice if I fell asleep under my desk?

It was an interesting weekend. Normally I have Fridays and Saturdays off but I agreed to work on Saturday for a co-worker. He works the same schedule as Beth so I talked Keem into bringing me to work on Friday and then spent the weekend over at Beth's so she could drive me to work on Saturday.

Friday night:
We were trying to decide what movie to watch. Beth wanted me to watch something I had never seen before. I said "You know, I've only seen one Lethal Weapon movie, #3."

So I watched Lethal Weapon #2 & #4. I am surprised that I've never seen them, I am a big fan of the buddy cop genre (okay, yes, I admit it, I am a big fan of any genre, except for the needlessly weepy or anything that movie critics reccommend (Example: The Hours. I don't like reading Virginia Woolf. Why would I want to watch a movie about her?)).

There is the one scene in LW2 where Hans walks into the room and the old guy, Arjen Rudd, says, gesturing to a plastic tarp laid out in the middle of the room "Oh, look out, we're painting." Now, I actually have not seen this done before in a movie, so apparently I could actually work for murdering drug runners because I yell at the TV. "You idiot, he's going to shoot you." I mean, c'mon, there is plastic on the floor. What do you expect? Moron.

Then there is the beautiful blonde girl who Riggs gets involved with. I turn to Beth. "She's going to die," I tell her. Are my psychic powers working overtime? No, I saw Lethal Weapon #3 and she's not in it. Plus, her boss is evil and wants her. She's just had the best sex of her life after avoiding certain death in a trailer via machine guns. You know she's going to die.

Lethal Weapon #4 was interesting. Jet Li was amazing. Beth told me she had heard they actually had to slow the movie down in some spots because you couldn't see him move, he's that fast. Apparently LW4 is a tear-jerker as well...I started crying in a few spots. But I did not cry through the entire movie, like Beth said I did. Maybe half of it.

Saturday night:
Work. Work is boring. Although I did get an escalated call for 48 minutes which will be ending up on Moron Mouth. And there was the interesting email conversation Beth and I had, involving cookies, Godzilla and my nephew, Josh. But I think that's a post all of it's own.

Because we had watched LW4 the night before, we decided to watch The One, with Jet Li. This is a really great movie, Sci Fi (Alternate Dimensions in this case), Cops, Martial Arts. What more do you need in a movie? I mean, honestly, this is the ultimate chick flick as far as I'm concerned. You get the really hot villain (Jet Li) and the really hot hero (Jet Li) who gets help from really hot Multiverse Agents (Delroy Lindo and Jason Statham). There's ass-kicking and true love everywhere you turn.

Then we watched Evita. I'm amazed I've never seen this, considering how much I love Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Weber's work. There were a few times when I was reminded of Jesus Christ Superstar by some of the instrumental movements. Very good movie. I finally got why people like Antonio Banderas so much. My God, the man can sing.

Sunday:
We were going to go to the zoo. But we watched Evita until 6:30 in the morning and ended up sleeping until 2 (me) and 3:30 (Beth). I've noticed that the older I get, the less I can sleep in late. It is very unfair. The zoo closed at 6:00. No zoo for us today. In Minnesota there are two "the zoo" zoos. There is the Como (Park) Zoo and there is the Minnesota Zoo (why the Minnesota Zoo thought it was so cool and got to be called the Minnesota Zoo is beyond me). Beth and I were going to go to the Como Zoo because it is closer to us, has a very cool Conservatory with many pretty flowers (ooh, pictures. Pictures lead to scrapbooking) and, and this is very important, they have penguins. Beth loves penguins. I'm good as long as there are Lions and Tigers and Bears (preferably Pandas) but I'm also fond of Hippos as well. So we're going to go to the zoo with Penguins.

No zoo. So we watch Stephen King's The Stand. I mentioned in an earlier post that I had made up an imaginary boyfriend and called him Randall, after Randall Flagg. Beth and I had a great time making fun of Molly Ringwald as Frannie and talking about what a great casting job was done for the majority of the male characters. The only male character we didn't think was particularly convincing was Stephen King playing a random townsperson. When he meets up with Stu in the end and says "What happened to your leg, Stu?" Beth and I started laughing about how he was the one that broke the leg in the first place, he should know.

Then we went to karaoke. This is why we watched The Stand in the first place, we needed to kill time until karaoke started. We were a little late but it was worth it, had a great time. An update from Beer Goggles, the first guy that hit on Beth (Joe?) was there and found someone to go home with him. He and his new lady love sang Picture together. Oh, they were awful. The highlight of the evening was this guy named Justin (?) and a friend of his (Jason?) who sang Baby Got Back. Justin was breakdancing and then broke into the Carlton dance we all know and love from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It was great.

So, I had a good weekend, I watched some good movies and I went to karaoke. It doesn't get much better than this.

Last Comic Standing - Update

Those who have been following the trials and tribulations of the plucky comedians will understand how traumatic of a week this has been for me. This was the first night where America gets to pick which three comics will go on to the next week.

Here you are telling me that I have to pick a favorite out of Alonzo Bodden, Gary Gulman, John Heffron, Jay London, Katleen Madigan and Tammy Pescatelli. These are the six comics I have been following since they got into the house, these are the people I have been rooting for every week. And I have to choose a favorite? It can't be done.

Gary Gulman's routine hit close to home on Tuesday. He started talking about alarm clocks and the snooze alarm and how he used to live with someone who would keep hitting the snooze alarm each morning multiple times. Jeff started laughing because Keem is one of those people and his bedroom is next to hers (well, so is mine but I have the master bedroom and I also sleep like the dead). Then Gary went on to cookies and about how he hates the sugar cookie. It is a little embarrasing to be yelling at the TV "Yes! Exactly!" when Gary says "A cookie without sugar is a cracker." I'm sorry but I have very strong feelings against sugar cookies.

I caught the last few minutes of the show on Thursday. Apparently my psychic powers are working overtime again. Gary, John and Alonzo are moving on to next week. And how do I choose between those three? It can't be done. I couldn't decide between six. Can't they be the Last Three Comics Standing? Stupid NBC. First you take Dan Naturman away from me and now you're making me crazy over this.

Previous comments
At 4:12 PM, Firebear said...
What can be said? Tammy was robbed!

I just might cry!

I am the number one out of 554 hits for green duckies blog on Google. Someone out there must love me. And number four out of 13,700 hits for green duckies. I am moving up in the world!

Mattress Shopping with Mom

Years ago (if you wonder why my posts usually start out with a vague impression of when something occurred, that's because my memory, she ain't what she used to be. And before you suggest I start taking gingko, let me just state that I bought a bottle of 60 pills. After a year (365 days), I opened the bottle and started counting the remaining pills. There were 50. I forgot to take something that would help my memory. I am obviously cursed), I needed to get out of a bad living situation. Long story short, I moved in with a work friend from NABABNA's arch rival, The Dark Side Bank, because she was having financial difficulty and I, Queen of the Balanced Checkbook (those who know me know this is so not true, those that don't know me, trust me, I couldn't balance a checkbook if you held a gun to my head. I know. I work in banking. It is very sad), decided I was going to help her out.

Well, it didn't work. Why not? Because she was a controlling bitch who had to have everything her own way, moved her boyfriend into the apartment so I could listen to them either fight or have sex (all the frickin' time!) and it was awful. I think the last straw was when I was checking our joint account (what the hell was I thinking?) and realized there were some ATM withdrawals I didn't recognize. I call the bank and ask the representative when and where these ATM withdrawals took place. She tells me they were made the previous day, during a time where it was impossible for either I or Shawna to make the withdrawal and conveniently located a block away from where the boyfriend works (I haven't come up with a good fake name for him yet). Obviously he has stolen money from us. I call Shawna, explain what happened and she tells me she will call him and deal with the situation.

An hour later, Shawna calls me back. The story I get is that Moron Boy (still looking for a good name) was found by someone from his past. Someone he owned money to for drugs. And said someone told Moron Boy that if he didn't pay him back, this person would have him arrested and the police would give him Shawna's car to pay him back. So Moron Boy, obviously, didn't want to have Shawna's car taken by the police and went to withdraw money from the ATM.

Are you with me here? Do you see the holes in this story?

1. Moron Boy owed this random person money for drugs.
2. The police would probably laugh themselves silly if the random person went to them and said "Arrest Moron Boy. He owes me money for drugs."
3. The car was in Shawna's name. The police are not going to take Shawna's car and give it to the random person.
4. Why didn't he call us and let us know that he was in trouble because hey, maybe we could have done something? Instead, he doesn't say a word and takes the money.

And yet, when I try to bring these holes to Shawna's attention, all I get is the cold silence. Then she says "Well, it's just impossible for me to deal with the fact that I have two roommates that are manic-depressive. I'm going to have the secret code changed on the cards." Excuse me? Listen, bitch, I may be manic-depressive (or the trendy new name bi-polar) but I have not stolen from you, technically he is not our roommate because he's "just staying with us for a little while until he gets his own place" and is not paying any rent, and, the biggest of all - my money is in that damn account. You change the secret code, I have no access to my money. He didn't just steal from you, he stole from me as well.

Anyway, being a wimp, I said nothing. Things got progressively worse. I developed a nasty illness called Irritable Bowel Syndrome (affectionately referred to as "gut rot") and missed a week of work. My mother, my beautiful, wonderful mother, comes to pick me up to take me to the doctor and asks me "What will it take to get you out of this place? I will do it." Bless her.

I ended up paying Shawna for two months of rent but moved out in a week. My Mom paid for me to move into my own apartment, took me to two estate sales and took me to Mattress Giant (does anyone think the woman in these adds is getting a little too excited about her new mattress?) to buy a new bed because I left my twin with Shawna and Moron Boy so Moron Boy's son would have someplace to sleep (Yes. She moved the son in. She thought it would help center Moron Boy and make him stop disappearing with her car and money. Hey, I got an idea. Kick his ass out and call the cops when he takes your car).

While we are wandering around looking at different mattresses and trying them out, we come across the ultimate mattress. Climb up onto the ultimate mattress, which is piled high with foam and more foam until there's not a pressure point to be found. It is on top of the box spring which could be used as a mattress itself, it is so fluffy. Mom and I lie on this bed. Every pain, every worry I have had in the past three months of living with Shawna floated away. There was no tension, no twinges, no hurt...just fluffy, fluffy mattress shaped Heaven. I turn to my Mom.

DM: Mom, please buy me this bed. I need it.

Mom: Dana, I am not buying you a $2,000 dollar bed.

DM: You've never loved me.

Yes, it was a joke. She knew it was a joke. She is the best, my Mother, and I want to thank her again for getting me out of hell. Although, if she would have bought me the bed I really wanted, I'm sure I wouldn't be having the shoulder pain I am now (and yes, Kari, I know it's probably from sleep apnea and not the mattress)...Dang her.

Hey, look, it's Steve the Pirate!

Oh, Frog, thank you for a good laugh. You must take this quiz, if only just to laugh at the questions. And then go see Dodgeball and watch a real pirate in action...oh, that Steve (Alan Tudyk).

Your pirate name is:
Dread Pirate Kidd
Like the famous Dread Pirate Roberts, you have a keen head for how to make a profit. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Previous comments

At 5:20 PM, angelia said...
You have a great pirate name!

Another example (thankfully not mine) of blind dates gone horribly, horribly wrong

An old friend of mine (known over 20 years, since high school) who we will call Anya once was convinced to go on a blind date. This was in the mid-80's and I believe this was either right before she met her future husband or after she had met him but they were "taking a break" at the time.

Being a painfully shy person, Anya asked if I would go on the date with her. I agreed. The gentleman (and I use this term so very loosely) was to pick us up at our apartment and we would then proceed on the date. I don't remember what his name is but let's go with Jarvis, shall we? (Side note, does anyone know a good baby name dictionary online? I could start carrying my Best Baby Name Book in the World book around with me again but that just brings up so many questions. No, I am not pregnant!)

I'm usually a pretty good judge of character (well, at least when I'm not the person involved in the date. If I was going out with him, I'd probably think he was wonderful) and I hated Jarvis. The very minute I saw him. I believe in both love and hate at first sight. He just irritated me for no apparent reason. Here's a brief description (please keep in mind that this will not be favorable because I hated him): tall, heavyset, blond, florid...think John Goodman but not as good looking or cuddly. He is wearing dirty jeans and a flannel shirt and looks like he wandered onto a farm, took a bath in a mud puddle and combed his hair with a rake. He has put absolutely no effort into this date and I resent this for Anya's sake.

Introductions are made, Jarvis is informed that I will be coming along on the date. This appears to be all right with him. Then he makes fatal flaw #1. I am leaning over the counter in the kitchen while he and Anya are talking. He gets up, walks past me and slaps me on the rear and makes some comment about my big ass (And my response is to then haul off and stab him multiple times with the fork I keep just for this occasion). Well, no, actually I just told him to never touch me again and he really shouldn't be talking. Both Anya and I are "big girls" but he's definitely a "big boy" in not the favorable concept this would imply.

Somehow the date still proceeds. Jarvis escorts Anya to his car, I sit in the back seat while she is in the passenger seat. We are going to go to his house. Why? No clue. On our way there, we drive through Minneapolis. It is rush hour traffic, it is hot, sticky and the air conditioning does not work in Jarvis' junky, seen better days car. So the windows are down all the way.

The light turns red. Jarvis stops at the crosswalk. A very distinguished, handsome black man in a suit...picture Will Smith in 20 years in a pinstriped gray suit, carrying a briefcase (Yeah, that handsome)...starts to walk across the crosswalk. Because, y'know, that's what the crosswalk is for, right? Jarvis, at the top of his lungs, with the windows down all the way, says "I guess I got to stop for the 'derogatory word that starts with an N'." Fatal flaw #2.

I lean forward and smack him across the back of the head as hard as I can. I am furious. I hit him so hard my hand is shaking (or maybe that's from keeping myself from strangling him) from the pain. "Ow!" he cries! "What was that for?"

With all of the disgust I feel for him running rampart across my face, I say calmly "I am part black and I didn't appreciate your comment." (this was before I found out my Dad made the whole thing up, see the post just before this) Now, you would think he would apologize, right? Not just to me but to the extremely handsome black man, right? Yeah, keep dreaming.

"You don't look black. How was I supposed to know?" This is his response. This is his idea of an excuse for being a worthless human being. I don't look black. So it's okay that he made this remark because the guy crossing the street was black? No, I don't think so. For the rest of the trip to Jarvis' house, I subject him to the lecture of how this world would be a better place if we would stop judging by color and accept people for who they are (and in my mind I continued with who the hell did you think you are, you are white trash scum who can't even put on a pair of clean jeans for a date!) Anya just sat there. Didn't say a word. Jarvis would look at her, try to excuse himself with some lame reason ("He was crossing the street in front of me." "The light was red, you moron!"), and would set me off again. Finally, Anya turned to him and said "You might want to shut up and let her calm down."

We get to his house. He shares said house with his father and his sister. He mentioned something about his Mom leaving a few months ago. I bite my tongue to keep making any remarks I may regret later. He opens the door and we enter...

Hell. Jarvis takes us through the kitchen. "This," he says proudly. "Is our kitchen." Imagine, if you will, a sink piled high with dishes. And the counter has dishes on it. And the smell, oh God, the smell, of rotting food. And huge, black flies are buzzing around, having a little fly orgy on top of the rotting food, landing everywhere. There was not one inch of clean counter space, clean table space, clean floor space. The floor had paper strewn from one corner to the next. The table had the remains of breakfast, possibly from 1976 from the looks of the mold cultures growing in the milk. I am allergic to mold. If I touch it, I break out into hives. If I breathe it in, I have problems breathing. If I ingest it, I will be come ill (and yet, I still love bleu cheese dressing. I'm such a rebel. An occasionally ill rebel)

The tour continued. We walk, holding our breath, out of the kitchen and into a hallway. Jarvis is taking us to his bedroom (ooh, baby, I can hardly wait, let me rip off all of my clothes and do you on your kitchen table! Smear some mold on me, you sexy thing!) so we walk across the hall and up the stairs. Now, even though we didn't spend much time in the hallway, I notice several litter boxes, full to the brim. If you have ever experienced the joy of a full litter box, with the acrid amonia smell of cat piss, multiply it by three. Yes. It was that bad.

Both Anya and I are cat lovers. She asks "Oh, you have cats?"

Jarvis replies "Cats? No, we only have one. A kitten." Anya and I exchange a look of horror. One kitten. Three litter boxes. Three full litter boxes. What is going on here? What does this family do? Just put out a new litter box everytime the old one gets dirty? If you have ever owned cats, you will know that cats don't like dirty litter boxes. Eventually they start kicking it out of the box. And then it ends up on the floor. And then you bring guests over and it seriously creeps them out. And then they start itching their skin rapidly because they can just feel all of the germs and microbes climbing all over them. Oh, my God! What am I doing here! Get me out! Get me out! It is amazing what one can convey in a look of horror.

Jarvis leads up the stairs and there, on the landing, are some oddly shaped stryofoam thingies (thingies, the technical term for anything) lying about haphazardly, surrounded by another two full litter boxes. Jarvis looks at them, mutters "Damn cat" and picks them up and puts them on the window sill in the landing. He then turns to Anya and I and so very sincerely says the following: "I apologize for this mess (indicating the fallen stryofoam thingies). The cat must have knocked them down. I'm so sorry you had to see this."

Yes. He apologized for some pieces of styrofoam that were askew. Both Anya and I exchanged another look. I, using my eyes, conveyed to her "Styrofoam? He apologizes for styrofoam? How about the fact that I'm going to throw up any second from the disgusting disaster that is his house? How about the fact that this place reeks of mold and cat piss and God knows what else and Oh my God, what is that moving over there in the corner? Is that a mouse? Aaaaaieeeeeeee!" Anya uses her eyes to convey "Can I help it that my insane friend Smirna thought it would be a good idea to fix me up with a guy who she only knows because she's been talking to his friend through a chat line? Can I? Calm down. You will not throw up, you are overreacting. It's not that bad. Okay, yes, yes, it is but he drove and we have no way to get back home so we'll put up with for a few more minutes before we run screaming away. No, that's not a mouse. It is a kitten." This kitten was quite cute, it was all we could do to steal it and take it to a house where it would be adored and would have a clean litter box.

I don't remember much else about the experience, only that Jarvis completely annoyed me and I informed Anya that under any circumstances was she to ever date him. But this was a conclusion she had drawn on her own, thank God. I do remember taking an hour long shower after getting home. Yuck.

How my Dad's warped sense of humor made me a better person

My father was an odd, odd man. He had an extremely strange sense of humor and I like to think that I inherited it. Sarcasm mixed with slapstick, tempered by a very dark appreciation for the absurd. Here are some examples of how he molded my tender mind and helped me evolve into the person I am today.

Example Number One:
It's a Saturday afternoon during the late 1970's. Dad has visitation and has picked up Kari and I. He is planning on taking us to a movie, The Muppet Movie. We get to the theater and The Muppet Movie has sold out. What does Dad do? Take us out to eat and bring us to a later showing of The Muppet Movie? No. He buys us tickets to Animal House. I am 12, Kari is 10. This is probably not the best choice for us, right? Well, I can't speak for my sister but I loved Animal House and thought it was hilarious (this probably explains a lot about why I am seriously considering going to see "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle").

Example Number Two:
Staying overnight at Dad's (I'm about 13-14?). I forgot to bring a book. Those of you who have read The Fish Hook Saga are painfully aware of what can happen if I don't have reading material. I come across a book that strikes me as being somewhat interesting. It is called The Happy Hooker. Hmm, perhaps it's about fishing. It is not about fishing, not by a long shot (for those not familiar with the Happy Hooker, her name is Xaveria Hollander and she wrote several books about her life as a prostitute. There's even a movie (which I did see but not because of my father)). It is extremely interesting until my little brat sister narcs on me to Dad. He later tells me he would have let me finish the book but he was afraid Kari would tell Mom.

There are many other things that Dad did which would strike many people as odd parenting choices but I don't have time to list all of them. One of the things you should know about my Dad is that he was extremely brilliant but also, throughout the majority of my childhood, a raving lunatic drunken lush who I observed choking my mother on at least one occasion and, apparently for fun, would throw beer bottles at her. I've blocked out most of my childhood and didn't remember the thing about the beer bottles until Mom was having the dining room remodeled and I was helping her take pictures down. There were all these holes behind the pictures.

"What are these holes from, Mom?" I asked. She looked at me blankly.
"You honestly don't remember?"
"Uh, no, I wouldn't have asked if I remembered," I said.
"Well, that's from when your father would use me as target practice," she said nonchalantly. I have to give my Mom a lot of credit. My Dad was not a good man when he was drinking. She stood by him when he went through treatment several different times, tried to support him and her two children and finally divorced him when I was 13. And even after the divorce, after all the things he had put her through, she rarely ever had a bad word to say about him.

So how did this make me a better person? Good question. One day, during the late 70's, I came home from school with an assignment for one of my classes. I needed to know what nationalities I was descended from. I asked my Dad for help even though I could tell he'd been drinking. I remember watching him weave back and forth in the breezeway, clutching his beer bottle, scribbling down information on the sheet of blank paper. I read what he had written. "German, French, Dutch, Norwegian, Scot-Irish." This was written in normal handwriting. On another line, his handwriting became more bold, slashing against the whiteness of the paper. "Polish. Black. Jackass, on your mother's side."

I knew the Jackass part was a joke but was puzzled about why he had written that I was part Black. He then proceeded to tell me how my great-great-great-great ("I don't know how many greats. It was a long time ago") grandfather had been a slave owner, raped a slave girl and, when she had a son that passed as white, forced his wife to raise the child as her own. He told me about Rosa Parks and gave me his copy of "Black Like Me" by John Howard Griffin. I was probably about 13 or 14 and learning about Civil Rights at the right knee of a man who wouldn't remember our conversation, or, even my name, two hours later.

Because of this new knowledge, I began to hate ethnic jokes. Why did the joke have to be about an American, a Polish person and a French person? Why couldn't it be about three different people, one of which just happened to be dumb? I would listen to the person tell the joke and then, very politely, smile and say "You know, I am part Polish." Inheriting my father's warped sense of humor, I enjoyed watching the person stumble all over themselves apologizing. The same thing worked whenever someone would make remarks about Blacks around me. I would listen to them, smile and say "You know, I am part Black." Shut them up every time.

Because of my Dad, I grew up to believe that you should follow the Golden Rule (do unto others as you would have others do unto you) and stand up for what you believe in. Even when, years later, I found out that he made the whole thing up. I'm not part Polish, I'm not part Black, it was all a ploy to make sure I grew up to treat everyone the same.

After his funeral, my sister, 3 half-sisters and some of my 4 half-brothers got together and were reminiscing about Dad. I brought up the previous story. I remember my half-sister, Suz, laughing as she related the story about how Dad told her and several of our brothers that the reason they loved spaghetti so much was because they were part Italian. Another sister mentioned being told she was part Native American and that was why she liked camping.

I really believe that you treat people the way you learn to treat them. Environment is a big part of learning and your kids watch what you do to find out how they should react. If you're teaching hatred, don't be surprised when your kids start teaching it themselves. My parents set good examples for Kari and I and we will set good examples for Josh and any other child that follows into the family. But I'm glad he made up this elaborate story to bring this situation home just a little bit more. He made me start thinking and researching and wondering about other cultures, other lives. He made me who I am today. I really believe that if he was still alive today, he would be telling Josh about his great-great-great-great grandfather who was gay and that's why Josh is such a snazzy dresser (okay, Josh is 10 months old. He doesn't have any particular tastes yet, I'm just using a very broad example. Kari dresses Josh, that's why he's snazzy. Unless the Vikings are playing, then Eric is in control of the wardrobe).

Previous comments

At 11:47 PM, DeAnn said...
I couldn't agree more. We become what we learn. And it's awesome when that influence makes you funny. Or good-natured. Or happy. Or just calm.Even odd is fun, don't you think?

Last Comic Standing - Update

Tammy Pescatelli, I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of this but apparently, I am not the only one in the world who wishes to see John, Alonzo and Gary pour oil on each other. The majority of the searches leading to my blog this week have been looking for pictures of them naked, gay or both and only 1 search request for you. I'm sorry. I know how devastating this must be for you.

Last Tuesday wasn't all that exciting for me. It's the Wild Card episode and so the people who were voted out get a chance to come back and compete again. I really enjoyed Jay London and Ant's performances but never liked the others that were voted out so I was happy to see Jay London is coming back. I would have been just as happy if Ant would have been voted back in.

Looking forward to this Tuesday.

When Fantasy crashes into Reality and there is a ticket for reckless driving

Thanks to Beth for inspiring this post. Be sure to read her post about her blind date. Very funny stuff.

I am a fickle, fickle girl. I always have been...back in high school (many many moons ago), I once had a crush on seven (7) guys during the same week. I had a list. Number 7 was "Boy who held the water fountain for me." I don't think I ever saw him again or knew what his name was.

Anyway, I've always been a bit of a flirt and, sometimes, this can get me into trouble. Or even worse, into a blind date. Something very important to know about me...I have never been in love. I have been in like, in lust and insane but I've never been in love. I don't know if it's a committment problem or what the deal is but while I like men and think they are wonderful (Even though they don't recognize me for the love goddess that I am and worship at my feet, offering to feed me small bites of cheese and brussel sprouts (I don't like grapes)), I never seem to be able to get past that first bit of infatuation and build the lasting relationship.

So my blind date story goes as follows:

I am working at the job from hell. I am the Office Manager or Receptionist (depends on who you talked to) for a small wire distribution in Minnesota. Part of my job is to take orders for wire from other companies. One of these companies has hired a new employee named Malcolm (I have no clue what his name really was, I just love the name Malcolm). Malcolm and I have a great time talking to each other every time he calls.

A few weeks go by and the conversations have progressed from "Hi, Dana, we'd like to order five boxes of wire today" to "What's your favorite color? Are you involved with anyone? And, oh, yeah, I guess we did need some wire, I should probably order that." I was no better, with my questions of "What type of movies do you like? Are you involved with anyone?" instead of "That will come to $75 with shipping and handling."

My co-boss (there were two of them, Satan and his wife (names changed to protect the jackasses. You'll get to read more about them in a later post. They were great (yes, that's a sarcastic great))), Marcy was listening to our calls and laughing, encouraging me. Whenever Satan wasn't around, she and I were great friends. This was one of the times that he wasn't there, thank God, he was out in the warehouse screaming at truck drivers for driving too close to his building. She made some comment about him and I replied, "Marcy, if he's half as good looking as he sounds on the phone, he'll be drop dead gorgeous."

The phone rings. I answer it in my chirpy voice "Small Wire Distribution company in Minnesota, this is Dana, how may I help you?"

"Dana, this is Malcolm."

"Oh, hi, Malcolm. Did you need more wire?"

"No, I was wondering if you wanted to get together and do something."

I stare at the phone in shock. I'm being asked out? This never happens (Okay, so this should be my first clue, right? The reason I am never asked out is because the normal, average male is extremely shallow and focuses on appearance. Malcolm has never seen me. He has no clue what I look like and is asking out Fantasy Dana from the sound of my voice. Of course, I've never seen him either...) . I turn to Marcy and mouth "He just asked me out!" She mouths back "Go for it!" (Well, honestly, it could have easily been "Get back to work!" I'm not known for my accurate lip reading)

"Um, sure," I stammer. (Yeah, way to keep that witty dialouge going there, Dana!) We agree to talk about the details later and I provide him with my home phone number. Later that night, he calls, we talk, I tell him I don't drive, he wonders why, I tell him why (and you can read the posts if you want to know why, they are here and here (although the 2nd post didn't happen until last year)), he laughs and we agree to get together that weekend to play mini golf. Which, laugh all you want, is actually not a bad idea. It gives you a chance to talk and get to know each other and there's no pressure, you can have a good time and play a game and have fun. I am looking forward to my date with Malcolm. I spend the rest of the week obsessing over what I am going to wear and drag my friends out shopping.

Saturday night appears. I am ready with my new black blazer (very slimming, because, while I haven't reached the full round voluptous stature of the love goddess I am today, I was working on it.), gold (sparkly!) top and black pants. My hair is styled, I am wearing make-up. I look good. Well, good for me. And, yes, I realize I'm being hard on myself but when you're the type of girl who is referred to as "having a great personality," it's hard not to be.

There is a knock on the door. I pull the door open. And then, here is where the title comes in. I can tell by looking at Malcolm that he's not overly thrilled comparing the real me to the fantasy me. I am not thrilled by the real Malcolm compared to the fantasy Malcolm (Although, in my defense, I have always been attracted to men that other women don't find attractive. I'll post on that in a day or two). Call me crazy, but I have a hard time getting turned on by men who are 3 to 5 inches shorter than me, especially since I'm 5'4". Of course, it's obvious Malcolm was probably not expecting me to be as zaftig as I was.

I will give him, actually both of us, credit. Instead of saying "No way in hell," we made the most of the date. We went to play mini golf, it was fun, we enjoyed talking to each other. There was absolutely no chemistry. He drove me home and here is where I lost all respect for him. We are sitting in the car, talking and I, being polite, invite him upstairs for a drink. He makes this big show of looking at his watch and saying "Oh, is that the time? I promised a friend I'd meet them in Minneapolis at midnight." May I just say "Riiiiiighhhht" to that? It was 11:50. I didn't call him on it, though, I had been hoping he'd say no anyway. We said good night, he left, I went upstairs.

On Monday, Marcy wanted to know all of the details. As I was filling her in, the phone rings. It's someone from the company Malcolm works at, Julie. While I'm taking the order, she casually asks me a question. "So, how did your date go with Malcolm, Dana?"

"You knew about that?" I ask.

"Yeah, he was telling everyone about it, earlier this week."

"Why didn't you ask him?"

"Oh, I suppose he wouldn't tell you. We fired him on Friday. He was stealing from us," Julie says. My mouth drops open. I finish taking the order and hang up.

So, here's what an overactive imagination got me: a short, lying, unemployed criminal. There are some benefits to being overweight - repelling losers and always being a little warm in winter are the only two I've found so far but hey, I'm sure there are others.

I can't believe I didn't think of this myself

Frog talked about this website, titled Someone You Know Is Gay.  This is a wonderful idea.  It is, simply put, a way to remind Americans that we each probably know someone who is gay.  If we admit that we know someone is gay, then maybe it's not so hard to take the next step, to realize that all people should be treated equally and that gays have just as much right to be married.  I have signed the pledge.

Maybe you should sign as well.  Let's think about it...someone you know is gay.  It may be your neighbor, your co-worker, your kid, your parent, your cousin, your friend.

I said a bad, bad thing

So Friday I'm on a bus headed out to the Saint Croix river.  The Bank of DM (or NABABANA, whichever you prefer) has put together a boat ride for the high performers of last quarter and Beth invited me as her guest.

We're on our way, headed towards Stillwater when I look outside and see this gigantic red truck (ooh, shiny) but it's got an accessory I would never consider putting on my truck (or El Camino, because, hey, if you're going to dream, dream big).

Now, I was raised to treat everyone the same, to not make generalizations, to not prejudge people.  And yet, I saw this truck with it's giant American flag with eagle screen printed in the back window (similar to this) and I, I (oh, this pains me to admit it) turned to Beth and made a horrid, horrid remark.

"Why is it that whenever I see something like this, I immediately think F*ckin' Republican?" 

I know.  I know this is wrong.  This person could just be really proud to be an American.  They could be an Independant or even a Democrat.  And I know that not all Republicans are bad...Some of my friends are Republicans.  They're not close friends, well, actually they're more like work friends but still, they're not bad people.  Even when they tell me I'm a member of the Loony Left (Why, yes, Donovan, I am talking about you).

I know that not every Republican is a narrow-minded bigot who enjoys a snack of Freedom Fries with a dash of salt and good old American ketchup while trying to take away human rights.  Thanks to Alas, a blog for pointing me to this absurdity.  I'm just curious.  I'm not really a ketchup fan.  Does anyone know of a good patriotic mustard I should be using?  I'm a Plochman's girl but, oh, wait, their founder emigrated from Germany...I could use French's mustard (I have a backup book and yes, I have a backup mustard) but I'd have to start calling it Freedom's mustard. 

And I apologize if this offends anyone but I'm sorry, as much as I love America, the whole "Hey, let's plaster the American flag on everything" is getting old.  I'm tired of Freedom Fries.  I certainly will never be using Wketchup.  Don't these people realize how silly they are?  I love how one of their comments to someone (on the left) went like this "In addition, we are highly patriotic and wanted a ketchup that all American's could agree on. "  Aargh!  Well, this American hopes you learn when to apostrophe and when not to apostrophe.  Dang it!  Oh, well, one of the things I believe, as an American, is that everyone has the right to make a fool out of themselves. 

Now myself, I'm thinking I'm going to start manufacturing Rainbow Mustard, a portion of the profits will go to the fight for gays and lesbians to be able to legally marry and adopt.  Anyone want to help me with the start-up costs?  And I probably could use a recipe for mustard while we're at it.

Last Comic Standing - Update

Yes, yes, I know I'm behind.  It's all TV Guide's fault. 

I should probably explain that, huh?  So TV Guide is mailed to you about a week in advance.  So I got the issue, started reading it (not noticing that I was on the wrong week) and noticed that there was a Last Comic Standing article.  You can imagine the excitement at the table when I mentioned this to Keem, especially since it was Tuesday night and LCS would appear on our TV. 

DM:  Ooh, Keem, look...Last Comic Standing article!

Keem:  Oh, cool.  I want to read it after you.

DM:  Ooh, look.  John Heffron.  He pretty.

Keem:  I like Gary Gulman, he's very cute.

DM:  Ooh, shiny picture of Alonzo Bodden.  I like.  He pretty as well.  I lick picture now. (Okay, no, I did not lick the article...but Alonzo Bodden is hot.  Freakin' Hot!)  Ick.  Corey Holcomb.  He annoy me.  Take article away.  Bad article.

Keem:  Wait, why are there only six of them?  Tammy and Kathleen are here but who's missing? 

This is when we discovered that we were on the wrong week and that our beloved Jay London would obviously be leaving the house.  We were sad.  There were tears involved.  I was almost too depressed to watch LCS.  I still did, of course, because, hello, Alonzo Bodden and John Heffron?  Not going to miss them.

Jay went up against Gary and they were both hilarious...it's just that Jay's sense of humor is witty and bright and (why do I want to break out into song (I feel pretty, oh, so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright)) not everyone gets it.  Not all people are fans of one-liners.  While Gary tells humorous stories and more people got it, I guess.  Sigh.

And last week, well, my dream came true.  Corey Holcomb is gone.  Hahahahahaha!  Now, that's funny! 

There was the reality show twist of bringing back all of the comics that had been voted off back.  These comics wouldn't perform, had no chance of winning but they did get to vote to see who would go into the head to head that night.  Bonnie McFarlane made some comment about how hard this was for her because she hated everyone.  Please.  Let's hold a grudge because it's just a game! 

So the decision was made, John Heffron against Corey Holcomb.  And then Jay Mohr comes out with another twist (stupid reality shows with all of their twists) and it's a three headed head to head.  Alonzo Bodden is up on the chopping block as well.  I am now seriously annoyed because if one of my boys loses, I will be very, very upset. 

Jeff wandered into the living room to watch with us earlier.  He's not so much of a stand up comic fan but it was on and he wanted to spend some quality time with us as well.  So he was there when I made the following comment (please do not read this, Mom.  You don't want to know this) "I think Gary and John and Alonzo should all win.  And then they should pour oil on each other." 

Keem replied with "Dana!  Please, keep your fantasies to yourself."  But she was eyeing up Gary and thinking about the butter in the kitchen.  I know her.  And yay!  Alonzo and John trounced Corey's ass because he proved what I knew all along...he's only got two funny jokes and he didn't bother to tell either. 

I look forward to Tuesday.

Oh, Jay Mohr was doing his usual stand up moment before the comics came out at the head to head.  He was talking about how it's almost impossible to hit a bird and then, one day, he's driving down the road with a buddy and they're having a theological debate and Jay says something to the effect of "Well, I'm not really sure that there is a God."  And suddenly, he hits a bird.  He and his buddy are freaked out.  And he leaves it at that. 

Keem laughs and says "Jay, God flipped you the bird.  Pay attention."  Do you see how funny she is?  Do you see why I want her to blog?  Would other people start asking her to blog because she's threatening me with a blog-harrassment suit?

It could happen to you - The Introduction to Family

Disclaimer:  If you haven't read Part One or Part Two yet, you may want to do that first.  Otherwise, you are not going to get the whole effect of how it's really hard to write without pronouns... 

A year had gone by.  Jack and Jon were graduating and were nervous about the fact that both sets of parents were going to visit at the same time for the first time.  Jack and Jon had spent a lot of time discussing this moment and had decided that this was the perfect moment to inform their parents of the truth - Jack and Jon weren't just roommates, they were lovers. 

Jon was extremely nervous.  Jack relaxed on the couch, watching as Jon paced back and forth in the apartment, adjusting a lampshade, dusting the coffee table for the 12th time, fluffing their cat's fur... "Jon, settle down.  It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that.  You don't know how my parents are going to react to the news...your parents hate me."

"No, they don't.  Dad told me how much he likes you.  Relax.  Come on, sit down.  What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, they could storm out of here and never speak to us again..."

"And if that happens, we'll deal with it.  I really don't think that either of our parents are going to disown us.  They might be upset but they love us.  I'm sure that they'll be accepting."

"You're right.  It'll be fine," Jon said, finally taking Jack's hand and sitting on the couch.  Then, the doorbell rang.  "Oh, my God, they're here!"  Jon ran to the door and pulled it open.

"There's my baby!"  Jon's mother, Dorothy, cried, rushing in the door to embrace her child.  "I've missed you so much!"  She turned to Jack.  "Hello, Jack, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, ma'am.  It's a pleasure to see you again."  Jack rose from the couch to shake Dorothy's hand.  "Did you need me to see to your luggage?" 

"Oh, no.  Andy's just parking the car and will bring it up.  Will we finally be meeting your parents today, Jack?"

"Yes, they should be here momentarily."  There was a knock on the door and Jon answered, ushering in another woman and two men.  "Let's do the introductions.  Andy and Dorothy, these are my parents.  Larry and Jamie."  The two sets of parents exchanged greetings, glad to finally meet.  "Jon, is dinner ready?"

"Yes, Jack.  Let's go into the dining room and eat.  And then Jack and I have something we want to tell you."

After dinner, Jon stood up and turned to Andy and Dorothy.  "There is something I have been hiding from you and I've decided that it's not fair to you to continue lying.  I hope that you can forgive me for not including you in what has been a major decision in my life."

"What is it, baby?" Dorothy asked, clutching Andy's hand.  "Are you okay?  Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, Jon, you know you can tell us anything," Andy said.  "We love you and will stand by you, no matter what."  Jon smiled at them and turned to Jack.

"I also have to confess something," Jack said. "I've also been living a lie and feel that it's time to come forward and hope that you'll be accepting."

Larry leaned forward. "You're my kid, Jack.  I love you and I'm always going to be there for you.  Nothing you could tell me would make me stop loving you."  Jamie echoed Larry's sentiment.

Jack and Jon stood in the middle of the room.  Jack took Jon's hand.  "Okay, here goes.  Pop, Dad, I'm in love with Jon."

Jon smiled at Jack. "Mom, Mumsy, I'm in love with Jack."  Dorothy burst into tears and Andy leaned over to console her.  "Oh, Mumsy, it's okay.  Please don't cry."

Andy looked up.  "Jonna, I don't know what to say.  I never expected this from you.  What happened to Sandy?  I thought you were still together."

"I know you did, Mom," Jon said.  "But Sandy and I weren't right for each other.  I realized that when I met Jack.  Will you accept our relationship?" 

Meanwhile, Larry and Jamie were talking to Jack. "I don't understand, Jack.  What about Alex?  I thought you were serious about each other?" Larry asked.

"I'm sorry, Dad.  Alex and I broke up over a year ago.  I was just afraid to tell you.  I didn't think you'd understand," Jack replied.

"Well, all I care about is your happiness, son," Jamie said, taking Jack's hand. "I just hope you realize how tough this decision is going to be for you."

Larry was still shook by his son's decision. "Jack, are you sure about this?  I know that people experiment when they're in college.  Hell, I even fooled around a few times."  He caught the look that his husband gave him.  "Jamie, I told you about that.  I was drunk.  It didn't mean anything.  Jack, really, have you thought this through?"

"I'm sorry, Dad.  I'm sure.  I love Jonna and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.  I just hope you can accept the fact that we're straight.  We know that it's going to be difficult and that a lot of people won't understand.  We know that we may never be able to legally get married or that our children won't be considered both of our children by the government.  But this is who we are.  And we're not going to change that just because society just doesn't understand that not everyone in this world is gay.  There are straight people in this world and eventually the government is going to have to start giving us equal rights."

"You're right, son.  I guess I just never thought about the laws before.  It never affected me before," Jamie said, pulling his son into a tight embrace. "Welcome to the family, Jonna."

 
Author's Note - About 12 years ago, I lived in Madison, Wisconsin, on the politically correct side of town (predominately gay) and saw a bumper sticker that read "When did you first learn you were straight?"  It always sat in the back of my head.  Lately, with the fight for gay rights, it's been on my mind a lot. 

The other thing that made me come up with this story is a conversation Beth and I had the other day when we discussed how our parents brought us up...you can see Beth's thoughts on the subject on her blog (conveniently linked to the right) and I will post how my Dad creatively elected to make sure that I never grew up to be a bigot soon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this...even though it is so far from being the best thing I have ever written.  Did I mention how hard it is to write without pronouns?  And if you think my story is far-fetched, well, obviously you've never watched the Twilight Zone, Mork and Mindy and Finnegan's Rainbow. 

It could happen to you - The Kiss

Jon finally decided that the worst thing that could possibly happen is that Jack would reject Jon's advances.  A phone call was made to Jack, asking to meet that evening at the library.  Jack agreed, later telling Alex about a fictional test would be taking place the next day.

Jack approached the table where Jon was waiting.  Both Jack and Jon noticed silently the preparation that each other had taken for this meeting.  Both had rejected their usual uniform of jeans and t-shirts normally worn for an all-night study session and instead, were dressed up.  Jack pulled out a chair and sat down.

"You wanted to talk?" Jack asked quietly.

"Yes.  I have something I need to ask you...but maybe we should go somewhere else?" Jon whispered.

"Okay.  I brought my car tonight," Jack replied.  "I thought maybe we could grab something to eat later, off campus.  Where should we go?"

Jon stood up.  "I know a spot where we can talk without being interrupted.  I'll give you directions."

An hour later, Jack pulled the car off to the side of the lake.  "This is really out of the way.  How did you find this place?"

"Sandy used to bring me out here.  No one else comes out here, I guess.  Maybe this is a bad idea, we can go somewhere else if you..."  Jon stopped talking when Jack slowly reached out and picked up Jon's hand.

"I don't want to go anywhere else.  This is fine," Jack said.  "You said we needed to  talk."

"I think you're right."  Jon swiveled in the seat to face Jack.  "I don't know how to say this.  I'm really worried about how you're going to react to this and I'm afraid it's going to ruin our friendship but...I...well, I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship.  I'm, well, I'm really attracted to you."  Jon said the last two sentences in a rush, worried about Jack's reaction.

Jack smiled in relief.  "Oh, God, I thought for sure you were going to tell me you didn't want to see me anymore.  I'm crazy about you, Jon.  I think of you all the time.  I broke up with Alex last night because I just couldn't fake my interest anymore."

Jon felt tears of joy well up.  "I have wanted to do this for awhile, I just hid my feelings from myself and from you."  Jon reached out and touched Jack's face softly.  They leaned in to each other and kissed for the first time.  It was the most magical experience either of them had ever had, different from what they were both used to with their former lovers.  The kiss became more passionate and then Jack pulled away and began to rain kisses all over Jon's face.

"I love you, Jack," Jon said softly.  "I think I have from when we first met."

Jack pulled back.  "I love you too, Jon.  What are we going to do?" 

Jon knew that Jack wasn't talking about how they would consumate their love for each other.  Both Jon and Jack knew how society reacted to what was considered taboo relationships.  The name calling, the hate letters...the news would report stories of violence in some cases in which a couple had been discovered.  By declaring their love for each other, they were taking a serious risk.  "Maybe we can keep it quiet?  I don't know what else to do...No one should have any problem with us being seen as friends.  We just have to be careful."

"Maybe we could get an apartment together off campus next semester and say we're roommates?"  Jack asked.  "That is, if you would want to..."

"Live with you?  Be with you all the time?  I would love that.  We better get a two bedroom, though.  I don't think my family would be ready for this yet."  Jon snuggled up to Jack, pulling Jack in for another kiss.  "I am.  I am very ready for what the future brings."   

It could happen to you - Jack and Jon meet

Jack and Jon met when they were in college.  One night at the library, Jack was working on a report for Abnormal Psych and Jon was studying for a test in Advanced Chem.  Jack asked to borrow a pencil from Jon.  A simple start to what ended up being a three hour conversation on everything and anything and coffee at the local diner.   There was no thought of romance in the beginning.  Jack was dating a very nice nurse, Alex, and Jon was seeing a cheerleader named Sandy.  They became friends and liked to get together to talk and just hang out.
 
Then Sandy wanted a commitment and started screaming when Jon admitted that their future together was not the most important thing on Jon's mind.  Jon realized that continuing to see Sandy was not going to work out, there was too much drama and not enough intelligence to keep Jon's interest. 
 
Jack and Jon made plans to meet the next night but Jack never showed up.  When Jon ran into Jack at the library a few days later, Jack pretended that nothing was wrong and tried to brush Jon off.  Jon pressed for more information and Jack muttered something about the nurse, Alex, was jealous of the amount of time Jack and Jon spent together.  Alex was threatening to to start rumors about Jack and Jon's involvement.  Jon laughed it off and made a comment about "What is Alex so worried about?  We're just friends."

Jack muttered "I know.  That's what I said."  But something about Jack's tone and the faint blush made Jon realize that, just maybe, Jack didn't think of Jon as just a friend.  Jack quickly changed the subject and left soon after.

That night, Jon lay in bed and thought about what had happened.  What had gone wrong with Sandy, honestly?  Was it the fact that Sandy was too dramatic and annoying or was it really the fact that Jon wasn't attracted to Sandy?  The more Jon thought about it, the more the realization came.  Jon had started dating Sandy out of convenience and had never been fully into the relationship.  When Jack had come along, it was so much easier for Jon to blow off Sandy to spend time with Jack.  Jon drifted off to sleep and had the strangest dream.

In the dream, Jon was lying in bed with Jack.  Even though Jon had always just thought of Jack as a friend, in the dream, they were kissing one another.  And it felt right, it felt wonderful.  Jon woke up realizing that Jack wasn't just a friend, Jack was the love of Jon's life.  But what to do?  Society had just not come around to the idea of accepting this kind of relationship.  And, honestly, how did Jack feel?  A faint blush wasn't really a declaration of love.  What was Jon going to do?  If Jack didn't feel the same way, Jon was going to be very embarrassed...or possibly beaten to a bloody pulp if Jack reacted in an unfavorable manner.

What A Great Idea

Alas, a blog has a very good point today about what would make it fair if the government continues to oppose gay marriage. 
 
I realized the other day, while reading frog's blog, that I don't speak about this often enough.  As a heterosexual, I have a responsibility to my gay brethren and sistren (I don't think that's actually a word but I like it) to shout from the rooftops my support for their struggle. 

I wish that everyone who has ever been discriminated against would join in the fight.  And, honestly, if you really think about it, haven't we all been discriminated against?  Let's look at the highlights here, people:

1. I'm a woman.  I have been discriminated against by people who do not feel that I can do the same job as a man for the same pay.  Fortunately, I no longer work for this person but there are a lot of women who still deal with this crap everyday.
2. I'm overweight.  Yes, this is my problem to deal with but I had an employer who told me I was lucky that he hired me because who else would want to hire a fat chick?  I have gone on job interviews only to be told I didn't fit in with the rest of the office (all model thin and perfect looking).

If you have ever been discriminated against, please look into your heart and ask yourself "How did it feel when I was rejected based on my gender or the color of my skin or what I look like?"  If you're anything like me, it hurt.

What it comes down to, people, is that this is about basic human rights.  Everyone should be treated equally.  We all know that there are jackasses all over this country who still feel that women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen or that blacks should still not be able to vote or that all Hispanics are lazy.  Stereotypes hurt and are wrong and prejudice should not be a part of our constitution. 

What it comes down to, people, is that this whole thing is based on what the definition of marriage is...

My Mom told me that marriage was what happened when two people who loved each other decided that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

Two people.  Not a man and a woman.  Just two people in love that want to be together.  That's all we're talking about.  Open up your hearts. 

My visit to Kari and Eric's house

Cuddlers of America, Unite!
 
Yesterday I woke up at 5:30 in the morning because of a loud cry from the nephew’s bedroom.  Josh was awake…and not happy about it.  Can’t say I particularly blamed him, I don’t like being awake as well.  Kari came out to the living room, where I was sleeping on the couch, and sent me off to her and Eric’s bed to sleep.  About 15 minutes later, Kari crawled into bed with me.  This simple act brought back memories of lying in bed with Mom and Kari and cuddling. 
 
One of the nice things about living with Jeff and Keem is that in two years, we’ve gone from being roommates to extended family.  When Jeff is on the computer in Keem’s room, we all seem to gravitate there.  He will surf the net and Keem and I will lie on the bed.  I have decided that Keem’s back makes a good pillow.  There’s nothing sexual about this, I think of Keem as another sister.  The three of us will chat about our days and it’s a great way to catch up on what is new.  Sometimes Eddy and Bob (the cats) will join us.
 
I think more people should cuddle.  I think our world would be a better place if we would just take the few minutes to climb onto a soft surface, put our arms around each other and just listen to one another’s heartbeat.  Maybe we would realize that our enemies are people just like us…
 
Just imagine what could happen if there wasn’t any more hate in this world.  I think John Lennon said it best in Imagine.
 
You may say I'm a dreamer,
But I'm not the only one,
I hope some day you will join us,
And the world will be as one.
 
 
Why I tried to smother my sister
 
Kari chose to use perfectly good cuddling time to inform (lecture) me of some things she had noticed.  Apparently, I snore.  Kari and Mom are convinced that I have sleep apnea and Kari and I covered the following topics:

1. I snore like my father did (very loud). 
2. This is not all I have inherited from my father. 
3. I also was lucky enough to get his hairy knuckles and toes (Gee, thanks, Dad). 
4. I also have his deformed pinkies (they curve inward) and can’t wear rings. 
5. However, I did get his love of reading and so I gladly accept the other traits. 
6. I need to go to the doctor. 
7. My shoulder hurts. 
8. If I were treated for sleep apnea, many of my other problems would go away.
    
   This is about when I put the pillow over her head to get her to stop talking. 
     
   Observations from the shower 

Kari and Eric’s water pressure sucks.

1. There is a large rubber duckie hanging from the wall.  I think it’s a bathtub for Josh.  This shower is not big enough for the two of us.  The duck must go. 
2. Kari has expensive tastes.  I am lathering my hair with Nioxin’s Scalp Cleanser.  It is tingly and tastes reminiscent of York’s Peppermint Patty (no, I did not mean to get it into my mouth).  It probably costs more than my shampoo and shower gel combined.
3. There isn’t any shower gel.
4. How can there not be shower gel? 
5. I cannot believe I am using Johnson’s Baby Bath as shower gel.
6. Hey, my skin feels really soft now.
7. God, this kid has a lot of toys.

Damn duck won’t hang back up on the wall. 
  
My sister Kari –  the seasoned world traveler
 
So yesterday, I ended up late for work.  Why?  Because my sister got lost.  Again.  (Why is it that both Kim and Beth ask if I gave her wrong directions?  That’s not right.)  Kari asked me if we should take the highway and I said no, let’s just the way we came yesterday.  It’s probably quicker.  We just pass Dellwood and she turns right instead of going around White Bear Lake to where 96 continues.
 
DM:  Where are you going?
K:  Does Country Road J go all the way through?
DM:  I don’t know.  This is not the way we went last night.
 
We hit Hugo and she turns on to J.  It does not go all the way through to work.  It becomes Bald Eagle Lake Road. 
 
DM:  Where is your cell phone?
K:  I guess it’s a good thing I brought it today (Digs it out of her purse).
DM:  (Growls while she dials work.)  Hi, Craig.  It’s Dana.
C:  Hi, Dana.  How are you?
DM:  Oh, I’m great but I’m lost.  My sister took the non-sanctioned route (Kari giggles) and I am now on Bald Eagle Lake Road which is circling what I assume is Bald Eagle Lake.  I’m going to be late.
C:  That’s okay.  I’ll see you when you get here.  (I put the phone back in Kari’s purse)
K:  Should we turn back or keep going?
DM:  Keep going.  I’m sure we’ll find something we recognize eventually.
K:  Ooh, County Road H2!  I’ll turn here.
DM:  (After a few minutes, I begin to recognize scenery.)  Oh!  I know where we are!  Keep going straight and then turn left at the stop sign.
K:  How do you know this?
DM:  Because this is where we were yesterday.
K:  Oh.  Are you sure?  Oh, wait, I remember that house.  You’re right.
DM:  Don’t be so surprised.

 I was only 22 minutes late.  This isn’t too bad, all things considered.  And at least Kari knows how to get to my work now.  Or, at least, a general idea of where it’s located.

Mixed emotions

Tonight I agreed to babysit the nephew. This is an activity met with great trepidation because babies and I, we don't mix well. Josh is adorable and everything but I don't get to see him that often and, at 9 1/2 months, he doesn't have a clue who I am. So I was scared.

Kari was supposed to pick me up from work at 6:30 and she is usually quite punctual so at 6:33, I was rushing outside to wait for her. Walked outside with Beth and then she ran off to pick up her lunch. And I waited, paging through a Scrapbook Etc. magazine. And then Beth was back and there was no Kari at 7:15. So I went back inside to find 3 messages waiting for me from Eric and Kari. Apparently Kari was lost. So I sat by my phone and waited some more.

At about 8:00, there's another phone call. This one is from Kari and she's downstairs at the guard's desk. The reservation is for 8:30. So we get in the car and Josh starts crying. Little tears at first, just observations that he is bored because he's been in the car forever. Kari orders me to sing.

You would think that with all the times I spend at karaoke, I would remember all the words to Change The World, right? No. Not a clue. And this kid, he knows when you start making stuff up. He appreciated Nobody but then started in with the criticism when I hit the chorus the 2nd time. Kari and I did the medley of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star/The Alphabet Song/I'm A Little Teapot. I tried Pink Houses, If You Could Read My Mind, This Diamond Ring, Mocking Bird. Nothing worked. At this point, he was sobbing pretty hard and Kari was frantically looking for a grocery store.

We found a Cub and Kari ran in, leaving me with the child. And the child screamed. And the child made a big noise. And I sang desperately, running through song after song. There was Jesus Loves Me and This Little Light Of Mine and Amazing Grace. There was The Star Spangled Banner. There was the weeping and gnashing of teeth (he has four now) when Kari ran out because she had left her wallet in the car.

But then the Mom returned and the nephew was pleased. And the child partook of an Arrowroot cookie. And the child had formula. And the child used the sippy cup the Mom bought in an act of desperation. And I got to sit in the back seat and make sure that the nephew did not choke on the cookies.

And then, something happened. The child smiled at me. And I was filled with love and adoration. The child babbled and said "Da da da" and "Lamoosneusza" which obviously is a sign that he is a genius. And I was filled with longing for a small child of my own. The nephew patted me on the arm and laughed at me. And I was moved by the welling of maternal instinct. And I was terrified. But fortunately, the child then started shaking the sippy cup all over and formula struck me in the face and I came to my senses. And I saw the lovely mixture of cookie and baby drool all over my arm.

Kari never made it to dinner. I fed the child a disgusting thing called Vegetable Beef baby food that was orange and frightening. And there was the wrestling for the bowl because Josh wanted to play with it more than he wanted to eat. And, I am ashamed to admit, he won the wrestling match briefly. And then I was smeared with orange goop.

We ordered pizza and I was left alone with the child for approximately 20 minutes while Kari picked it up. And the child did not explode, set himself on fire or cry excessively for the Mom. I feel quite pleased with myself. I'm still waiting for him to be six and reading Shakespeare but there are moments when I look at him and I think I understand why people become parents voluntarily. These small things, they're really kind of cute.

Previous comments

At 9:04 PM, DeAnn said...
I'm laughing because you think that he will be reading Shakespeare at 6!! I know many many kids, even brilliant ones, and none of them are big on Shakespeare at age 6. Just a warning.

At 10:58 PM, CarpeDM said...
What? He won't be reading Shakespeare? I am shocked and/or stunned by this. Did you not see where he said da da da and Lamoosneusza? This is sheer poetry. Well, if he's anything like I was, he'll be reading it in 4th grade. But hopefully he will get his mother's math skills.

But I can only wear one pair of shoes at a time - what's the point?

I have a confession to make.  I am fashion challenged.  I don't get Prada.  I don't have a clue to what the difference is between Vogue or Cosmo.  I think that models really need to just eat something.  I love my job and the fact that I can easily come to work every day wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  I am wearing, right now, brown sandals, a red t-shirt and blue leggings.  I know, deep inside somewhere, that this is terribly wrong but I just don't care.  I wear these shoes with everything.  They are perfect.  Do you know how hard it is to find a pair of flat, closed toe sandals?  Do you?  I refuse to bare my toes.  They are ugly and deformed and topped with toenails from hell. 
 
The most money I have ever paid for a pair of shoes was $40.  This is an obscene amount of money to pay for shoes.  Do you know how many books I could get for that money?  But I was desperate.  The pair of cheap cotton sandals lost a vital part of their sole at work one day and were causing me horrendous pain with every step I took.  I ended up making an emergency trip through the skyway to Daytons to check out their shoe department.  Imagine my horror when I discovered that every single pair of sandals they had were open toe.  And these were the only attractive pair I found.  Steve Madden, on sale for $40.  On sale.  Meaning that people actually sometimes paid more than $40.  I still can't comprehend this.  I still have them somewhere, two years later, and they still are in good condition.  I could easily wear them tomorrow.  I just won't.
 
Reasons why I will not wear my perfectly good pair of Steve Madden shoes:

1. I would need to paint my toenails.  I am nail polish challenged as well.
2. I have extremely ugly toenails that polish cannot cover completely.
3. The shoes make this highly annoying slapping sound whenever I walk. 
4. Because there is not a strap to keep the shoes on, I have a tendency to walk out of them.  And then I fall down. 

I will admit to paying $30 apiece for two pairs of Converse High Tops.  But they were cute (and cover my toenails) and doesn't everyone need a pair of hot pink high top shoes? 

Oh, I have a brown purse and a black coat.  Don't you just want to send the fashion police after me?

Yet another website full of fun

Dooce.  No clue how to pronounce it but my God, this woman is hilarious.  I have not the slightest clue where I found her, either from One Good Thing or Frog's Blog but I am ever so glad that I have.  If you have a completely irreverant sense of humor, you will enjoy this.

In other news, Beth and I have decided to start a joint blog about some of the customers we come across as we pursue our careers in the banking field.  It's called Out of the Mouths of Morons and will include conversations that we've been a part of, been told or overheard.  Not all of the stories will be banking related, we'll use this as a place to put some of the stuff we hear when we are out and about.  Hope you enjoy it.