Monday, January 24, 2005

"I'm Not 'The Boy', Not Yet a Woman..."

It had to happen sooner or later. The Boy has been forcibly re-assigned to a regular bed. Yep, no more crib for him! He pulled his latest Steve McQueen(a.k.a The Cooler King) impersonation on Friday night and by Saturday afternoon The Man and I had his crib disassembled and in the garage. The phrase "he's not happy about it" fails to adequately describe The Boy's displeasure. Even though his father and I spent all Saturday (well, it FELT like a long time!) shopping for the perfect mattress (not the cheapest set, but not the fucking astronaut-memory-foam-that-we-might-be-able-to-pay-off-before-he-goes-to-colllege either!) , and even though we thoughtfully placed the mattress in the living room for the rest of the afternoon so he could get used to it and see us lounging on it, and even though we bought suitably non-emasculating blue-and-white striped sheets (NOT the Strawberry Shortcake sheets that I could have bought!), he was still NOT AMUSED. We kept putting him on the mattress, and he kept getting up and running for the door. Each time we put him back down he screamed a little louder. Until we finally gave up and just closed the door -- on our ONLY child, the love of our lives, the sweetest little boy in the world. Yep. Somewhere between The Bradys and The Manson family lies...Us.

(For those of you who care - or for those who want the details before you call CPS... Yes, he did eventually sleep. No, he did not sleep on the mattress. He slept on the floor, in the corner, clutching his blankets like a homeless person.)

Friday, January 21, 2005

Grumblings

You know, I come up with great things to blog about on my way in to work, but by the time I get here and get situated I've forgotten them. So then I'm left with crappy things to blog about like the paint-stripper disguised as coffee they sell here at work, or how the tech guys come by on Fridays just so they can hang around and chat with my (extremely nubile) assistant. Oh well, I can at least point you in the direction of others who have more exciting, scintillating, and just down-right weird things to say:

Like this particular gem from Dooce.com about sensational organisms.

If you're into News of the Weird (or just plain news of the dumb) then you'll love this article from the St. Petersburg Times (check out the other news stories at the bottom of the page - makes you wonder what exactly is going on in St. Petersburg!?!) that I got from a link on this fabulous page.

And finally, this made me snort coffee from my nose onto my monitor. Scroll down to the November 1 entry entitled "Wardrobe Malfunction." It's probably only funny to parents like myself who take delight in putting their young children into deliberately humiliating situations just so we can take pictures and / or video of them to show to their future prom dates.

So now you can see how I waste my time. It's ok, though, they just pay me to be here - not to actually accomplish anything, right?

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Things That Make You Go "Hmmm..."

For those of you old enough to remember The Arsenio Hall Show (or for those of you who watch enough VH-1 I Love the 70's/80's/90's/ etc.) today's title will be no mystery. That phrase popped into my head today as I was walking in to work. I saw something that made me go "hmmm...."
I thought to myself, "You know, 'hmmm' just isn't quite right for what I just saw."
So then I asked myself, "What would be better than 'hmmm'?"
And then I answered myself, being the polite inner monologuist that I am, "Well, 'Things That Make You Go What the Fuck Is Up with the World - I mean, c'mon people, have we all gone completely and totally INSANE?!?' might work."

Thus spake the inner monologue.

So getting back to my original point:
Things That Make You Go What the Fuck Is Up with the World - I mean, c'mon people, have we all gone completely and totally INSANE?!?

Strewn throughout the campus are newspapers and ads for a variety of things: Apartment locators, nightlife guides, employment bulletins, sperm / egg donation -- the usual crap you find on a college campus. However, today one of those crap-ass ads caught my eye. It was an ad for one of those private healthcare schools that promise you can become a Nurse's Aide in 2 weeks if you pay them the measly fee of $10,000. I got news for anyone who has entertained delusions of ponying up the $10,000. IT'S A SCAM! Why the fuck anyone would pay $10,000 to learn how to wipe another person's ass is beyond me. Anyway, here's the headline (I think it illustrates - quite beautifully- the serious nature of their curriculum):

"Medical Sitcoms: Don't Just Watch It! Live it!"

Now I ask you, dear Internet, doesn't that make you want to go there???? (And doesn't it make you want one of their graduates looking after your vital signs?)

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

The Boy: the man, the myth


chris_0105
Originally uploaded by Chai Goddess.
There he is folks, in all his spit-covered glory. I can't stop staring at this picture and thinking "Wow! He's not a baby any more!" What power we have to be able to create tiny people and then to set them loose on the world. It is an awesome power, and not one to be taken lightly!

Friday, January 14, 2005

Ironic, don'cha think?

"What we don’t seem to realize is that ritual thoroughly personalized is no longer religion or art. It is fetish. And unlike religion and art, which encourage us to transcend our own experience, fetish urges us to return obsessively to the sounds and images of an arrested stage of development."

--Christine Rosen, "The Age of Egocasting," The New Atlantis, Number 7, Fall 2004/Winter 2005, pp. 51-72.

Read the whole article (if you can, you puny TiVo worshipping, iPod hugging ADHD cretins!) and let me know what you think. Those of us who are children of the 80's will probably remember "THEM" telling us how dangerous MTV was to our horribly maladjusted adolescent brains and how we were all going to end up homeless and unable to concentrate well enough to fill out an unemployment form. Oh yeah, and remember the hordes of crack babies that were supposed to flood our schools?

That being said, I agree that devices such as TiVo, iPods, and remote controls have made us much more demanding consumers. We want what we want, and we want it when we want it! Does that mean we're more intolerant of other's needs / wants or that we're more impatient? Maybe.

I rock so FUCKING hard!

So, you may have noticed there's a little something extra on the blog as of yesterday. Something we who have lived in New Orleans like to call, "lagniappe." That's "lan-yap" for my pesky Yankee friends. I, greatest of all mortals, figured out how to put a Blogrolling list on the sidebar. Those of you with mad computer skills and those of you under the age of 30 can stop laughing now. It's not as easy as you'd think! Here's the deal...

1) I read my first comment yesterday from this happening chick (I hope she doesn't mind the "chick" reference, it's so hard to tell what's polite in this here "inter-net.").
2) I do my maniacal happy dance because I feel so fucking ecstatic that someone that I don't know actually read my blog and cared enough to comment. (Hint to friends and family - don't be shy with the comment button...)
2 1/2) Brief interlude in happy dancing when I think to myself, "why does this make me so extremely happy? Am I that shallow?.... Yes." Re-commence happy dance.
3) I visit said chick's blog and find my blog listed!!!! Flashback to scene in The Jerk when Steve Martin finds his name in the phone book - INSTANT EUPHORIA all over again!
4) This inspires me to go to the Blogrolling website to see what exactly is involved in putting one of them thar critters on my website.
5) Hmm... thinking to myself, this doesn't look too hard. I did OK until I get to this part:
Please consult the documentation on modifying your blog templates for the individual systems. All you need to do is open up the template for your blog and paste in the code from step one to the spot you want it to be displayed on your blog. If you've ever modified the appearance of your blog this should be very simple.
They used the word "simple" a lot, yet I don't think they truly understood what the word means. To me, "simple" means there are big red signs that you can't miss guiding you every step of the way. "Simple" means that even some lame-ass, over-30, liberal arts major like myself can figure it out without resorting to the F-word every 5 minutes. This was so NOT the case.
6) Enter "Trial and Error" phase. I go to the Blogger template. I wade through the code. WTF is "padding:50px"? Who the fuck knows what a "margin:0 0 1em" means? I don't remember them covering that in my ONE computer class 10 years ago!?!?! Back in the day when they taught us all about the new hotness -- Windows 95!!!! It's fantastic! It's abso-fucking-lutely ingenious! It's like a Mac... huh.
7) After an HOUR of trial and error I finally make it work.
8) Huge celebration! Ticker-tape parade! Midgets dancing in the streets! The Mayor hands me the key to the city! I FUCKING ROCK!
....

Thursday, January 13, 2005

21 months old today!

The Boy celebrates his 21-month birthday today. People without kids (and remember I was one of y'all not too long ago!) are going to be scratching their heads trying to figure out why parents insist on giving their young children's ages in months instead of just saying "he's almost 2." I too scoffed at the month-by-month updates when I was a free-spirited, childless, hedonistic young woman who could stay up past 10:00 pm without feeling like crap the next day. Now though, I completely understand. When they're babies you go through this daily love-hate relationship with them that so fries your brain that when you realize you have both survived another month together you get giddy. You think back to the day your baby was born, the day you came home from the hospital, that first diaper change after you got home from the hospital, the first sleepless night after you got home from the hospital, the day you realized they forgot to give you the instructions for this screaming, shitting, crying, nipple-biting bundle of joy and that you are COMPLETELY on your own.

So, that's why I still celebrate the monthly anniversary of my son's birth. I love every part of him from his yogurt-smeared cheeks to his feet that he refuses to have unshod for more than 15 minutes of the day. So in honor of The Boy's 21-month birthday here is a list:

Favorite Book: Daddy and Me
Favorite DVD: Shrek (G-d help me we've seen this so many times I recite lines from it in my sleep, but he loves it and it buys us at least 45 minutes of quiet time)
Favorite outdoor activity: the slide
Favorite food: vanilla yogurt, teddy grahams, Life cereal, grapes
Favorite time of the day: mornings (this is the only reason that The Man and I think he might have been switched with some other baby in the hospital because no child with our combined genes should be this happy in the morning!)
Favorite TV show: the Weather channel morning addition - The Boy just can't get enough of all those numbers going across the screen!
Favorite toy: the Megablock truck - no bells and whistles, just 4 wheels on a lego. Go figure.

C-Rex,
All the love in the world!
Love,
Mom & Dad

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Toddlers - part deux

It still amazes me how my son can go from being extraordinarily, blissfully happy to insanely out-of-control meltdown in a matter of nano-seconds. It also amazes me how funny I find this transformation. Yeah, most of the time it gets on my nerves and I have to take a deep breath and think back to a moment in time (just seconds ago) when he was a happy kid -all smiles and giggles- to regain my equilibrium. Sometimes, though, I have to laugh because it's just so absurd. This kid can ACT. I don't know if he's channeling the spirit of Marlon Brando or what, but he can turn on the hysterics at will. From listening to other parents talk I know my child is not the only one with this seemingly-magical ability, but I'm still in awe. The really fun part is getting him to turn off the hysterics. Usually a teddy graham or two will do the trick. No, I am not averse to bribing my child with food. I have tried teddy grahams, pretzels, cheezits, cantaloupe, nilla wafers, fig newtons, and if none of those work I am not against giving my child scissors to play with! You know, the big ones with the pretty red handles to disguise the blood stains! muhahahaha!

Friday, January 07, 2005

All wet, yeah you might need a raincoat!

365 degrees!
Burnin' down the house!
Fighting fire with fire... gonna burst into flames!

(Is there a better song? I DON'T THINK SO! Especially when sung by Tom Jones!!!)

I'm so bored at work that I'm blasting Tom Jones from my speakers hoping that the guy in the office next door will get mad and start banging on the wall... a little excitement in my life, that's all I ask for.

On a completely different note:
Does it say something about me that I've seen more movies on the "Most Disappointing Movies of 2004" list (2) than on the "Ten Best Movies of 2004" list (0). Methinks it's just pathetic.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Flogging, so much more appropriate than an HR memo

I abso-fucking-lutely loathe hiring /scheduling / firing staff. So much so that I'm thinking of enrolling in the Montgomery Burns School of Staff Management. It would be so much easier if I had a trap door in my office that I could stuff these lazy-ass SOBs into. Here's a sample conversation I had recently with one of my soon-to-be ex-employees:

(NOTE: CA-H stands for Current Ass-Hat)

ME: "Hi {insert Current Ass-Hat's name}! How was your vacation?"

CA-H: Fine. Umm... I'm really sorry but I can't work on Thursdays.

ME: Umm... well, that's ok. You sent me an e-mail about that last week. I didn't schedule you on Thursdays.

CA-H: Well I have to take a class on Thursday. that's why I can't work.

ME: That's still Ok because I...didn't...schedule...you...for...Thursdays.

CA-H: My class is on Tuesdays.

ME: So you're saying you CAN'T work on TUESDAYS?

CA-H: Yeah, I'm really sorry.

ME: Well, what happened to Thursdays?

CA-H: Oh, I have a class on Thursdays too.

ME: So exactly when CAN you work? (muttering under breath- "stupid ass hat!")

CA-H: Well, Saturdays are ok.

ME: Fine. I'll work it out.

CA-H: I'm so sorry. I have to take this class and it's only offered on Tuesdays, and it's way downtown, and-

ME: Fine. I'll make another schedule. Now go. (teeth grinding, heart rate accelerated, bitch-switch set to "Kill")

A trap-door would have been far too tempting during that conversation.

Random Thoughts...

I guess I'm still wrapping my brain around this whole blogging thing because I'm not really sure why I'm doing this. One of my dear friends blogs about Buddhism, God, and the quest for meaning in life. Most of the other blogs I read are more like journals. So what the hell am I writing about? Nothing meaningful that's for sure. I mean, I like you Internet, but I don't know you well enough to divulge my innermost fantasies or my family secrets or even what I had for dinner last night. Ok, maybe I can let you in on the Family Dinner Menu - it was bbq pork sandwiches that The Man made from a recipe he found in Gourmet magazine - is that enough quirky detail for you?

I think I'll just stick with what's in the title and keep this trivial. I have enough drama in my life, I don't need to write about it here. So stay tuned for more random thoughts on farting, prime time television, toddler eating habits, and my loathsome co-workers.

Signing off.