It's almost 1:30p and I just poured my THIRD cocktail.
Shameful?
Perhaps.
But it's really not my fault. See, I decided it was high time to clean my shower. I hate cleaning shower stalls. Seriously. I'll scrub 10 toilets before it dawns on me that I might be dying from the mold spores growing in my shower!
Where is an obsessive compulsive when you need one?!
So. Given the fact that I ignore the condition of my shower, it was the state of my toilet that was a clear indicator that I needed to spend some time in my bathroom with my friends: Rubber Gloves, Tilex & Scrubbing Bubbles!
Sexy.
So while my toilet was "soaking" in all things Lysol Cling, I decided: WTF. I'll clean the shower.
Insert me into the shower stall, flip flops on my feet; big wig piled on top of my head and a brand new bottle of Tilex in my rubber gloved hand.
Fast forward 2 minutes and I am GASPING for breath! Please view me, fat ass and all, staggering out of said shower; eyes watering & me screaming JESUS CHRIST, REALLY?!
Note to self: open your windows and turn on the bathroom exhaust fan PRIOR to the use of Tilex.
I headed to the kitchen immediately and poured myself a stiff cocktail.
Which I downed. Promptly.
I am now on my third and while while my sense of smell is still impaired; my vision has recovered nicely. With my third cocktail in hand, I am off to tackle another bathroom.
If my family is lucky, I will continue to drink, clean and serenade them all with my own cover version of my iPod Playlist on shuffle play!
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Ping! Pong.
So in the middle of talking Kristin off the ledge last night, she asks me if I know where she can find a plunging, low back bra.
We went from private school, bullshit politics to bras in under 10seconds!
I used to spend a lot of my time saying WHAT THE FK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! to KB; to which she'd always reply: "Keep up, Babe!"; but I've grown accustomed to her Girl Interupted schtick. So I fired off: "Nordy's should have you covered. Fredricks of Hollywood? "
Her response? "I told Big Daddy when we were buying the new car last weekend, Lil Red is the only car that's ever made me HAPPY."
See how quick she does it? We are now going to talk about cars. Specifically our convertibles. For the record: I GOT MINE FIRST! The footnote to that statement would read: Kristin's Mercedes trumps my Boog. I'll spare you the play by play of our IM session as it literally reads like 2 chicks suffering from individual cases of ADD, one with a significantly more severe case than the other.
Politics, bras, cars, happy, SQUIRREL!
FFS.
As we are wrapping up our IM, Kristin asks: "When can I expect a new blog? I need something to laugh at." To which I say: "I've tried a few times....I can't find my rhythm. I need a topic that interests me or at the very least, something to really piss me off. The Globes are coming up.....you KNOW I'll find inspiration there!"
KB: Private school politics? Plunging, low back bras for girls over an A-cup?
Me: Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffft! Is there even such a thing as an A-cup? I call bullshit. A fkn myth, I'm telling you.
We end with X's & O's and Kristin telling me it's too fkn hard to type in the dark. While drunk.
Pretty sure I just found my start!
We went from private school, bullshit politics to bras in under 10seconds!
I used to spend a lot of my time saying WHAT THE FK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! to KB; to which she'd always reply: "Keep up, Babe!"; but I've grown accustomed to her Girl Interupted schtick. So I fired off: "Nordy's should have you covered. Fredricks of Hollywood? "
Her response? "I told Big Daddy when we were buying the new car last weekend, Lil Red is the only car that's ever made me HAPPY."
See how quick she does it? We are now going to talk about cars. Specifically our convertibles. For the record: I GOT MINE FIRST! The footnote to that statement would read: Kristin's Mercedes trumps my Boog. I'll spare you the play by play of our IM session as it literally reads like 2 chicks suffering from individual cases of ADD, one with a significantly more severe case than the other.
Politics, bras, cars, happy, SQUIRREL!
FFS.
As we are wrapping up our IM, Kristin asks: "When can I expect a new blog? I need something to laugh at." To which I say: "I've tried a few times....I can't find my rhythm. I need a topic that interests me or at the very least, something to really piss me off. The Globes are coming up.....you KNOW I'll find inspiration there!"
KB: Private school politics? Plunging, low back bras for girls over an A-cup?
Me: Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffft! Is there even such a thing as an A-cup? I call bullshit. A fkn myth, I'm telling you.
We end with X's & O's and Kristin telling me it's too fkn hard to type in the dark. While drunk.
Pretty sure I just found my start!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Last Call
My Dad died....... July 2. A few hours after I left him.
Daddy. That's what I called him. Or Father....when I was being sarcastic. I was also fond of calling him Chuckie White Shoes.....on account of his fondness for a pair of white, point-y toed shoes, circa 1967. He had his own style, my Daddy did.
It's a horrible thing to watch someone you love die. In the moment, you feel helpless. In the aftermath, you are overcome with grief......and relief. And therein lies the struggle. You desperately miss that person you loved and yet it's a blessing to know they are no longer in pain.
Congestive heart failure wins.
My Dad was in and out of the hospital for the last nine months of his life, almost every two weeks; his lungs would fill up with fluid and he couldn't breathe. "It feels like I'm drowning", he'd say. In January, my brother (Nick) flew in from Florida when Chuckie landed in the cardiac unit at OHSU. The situation was grave, but our Dad rallied and was ultimately released. Nick flew home and we all said a little prayer that this was it.
It wasn't. In and out; in and out of hospitals he was. "Tune ups", he'd call them. He'd stay for a few days, they'd pump the fluid off his lungs and he'd go home. For about 2 weeks. In May, he landed in the hospital for 21 days. He was intebated twice, coded once and when the dust cleared we were told by the doctors that they'd exhausted all medical interventions. His heart was too weak...... it was now time to make him comfortable.
We brought him home the first weekend in June and for the first 2 1/2 weeks, he seemed to be doing well. He was on oxygen, which he hated, but he could walk on his own & take care of his own needs. Mark & I had a family vacation planned for mid June and Daddy made me promise we'd go...... he'd "never forgive me" if I didn't.....and so I did. I called him everyday to check in and we'd visit for about 10 minutes and then he'd get tired and we'd end the call. "I love you, Daddy", I'd say. And then I'd hang up and cry for 1o minutes. I knew he was failing. He was losing his speech and short term memory. Mo, "his sweetie", told me he was sleeping alot and would "fade in and out" during the day. She said when he heard my voice on the phone, he'd immediately perk up....but the minute we hung up, he'd go back to sleep. Three days before my family and I were to return home, Mo called and said I had to get Nick to fly out. Dad was asking for him. "I need to see my boy", he said. I knew when I left that there was a good chance my Dad could die while I was gone, but I was ok with it. I'd spent every spare minute with him that I could and we had said the things that we needed to say to one another. "We're square", he'd said. But I knew that wasn't the case with Nick, and so I made the call. "It's time to come home, Nico..... he won't be able to let go until he sees you."
Nick flew in on a Saturday and stayed four days. He spent all day with Dad, who was by now in a hospital bed in the living room. He wasn't eating, but for a few bites here and there; and he slept most of the day. But he still recognized his family and he and Nick were able to say their final goodbyes.
I arrived the following Tuesday. Mark and I hit the state of Oregon and drove immediately to my Dad. We stayed for 3 hours, gathered up Nick and his belongings and took him with us back to Salem where Gina was waiting to take Nick to Portland to catch his flight out. I don't ever remember seeing my brother cry like he did when he walked out of Dad's house and climbed into our truck. The magnitude of knowing he'd never see our Dad again struck a might blow. He cried the entire drive to Salem. I cried right along with him.
I continued to call Dad the next two days and by Friday, while sitting at work, I was overcome with the feeling that I had to see him. It was a pull.....like a magnet. The Monsters were with Mark's parents, so from work I drove home, changed and headed straight for Dad & Mo.
I was not prepared for the next 12 hours. Daddy had completely deteriorated. He was combative and only had flashes of recognition. My first three hours were spent struggling to keep him in his bed. He wanted out but didn't understand that he had no strength to support himself. "Daddy, NO!" I'd say, using my body to block him and my weight to practically sit on him to keep him from getting up. At one point, after about 5 minutes and me thinking he was done, he began to struggle up and against me and I said in my best smart ass tone: "I swear to God, Dad......I will knock you out if I have to! And I weigh more than you now!!" His face flashed with recognition and his response was: That's my Baby.
As the night wore on and the struggle continued and the meds had no effect, Mo called for the hospice nurse and I called Mark. Mo didn't want to be left alone, and I didn't want to be without Mark. So Marky jumped in the truck and came to our rescue. Daddy immediately recognized his "Sweet Lou" and about an hour later, the drugs kicked in and he was peaceful.
We stayed through the night and into the next morning; enduring another three hour struggle in between. At one point all three of us were keeping Dad in bed. No one said it aloud but I know we were all thinking it: If we could just give him one big dose of morphine.......
That thought. It's not just to end the suffering of your loved one. It's to end yours as well. Watching death take it's time, slowly robbing your loved one of their dignity;inconsiderate to the fact that you are helpless to their pleas for help. "Just kill me", Daddy would say. And he'd look at Mo and ask, "Does my daughter know? " And I was sitting at his bedside the entire time. "I'm here, Daddy....I'm here". And right before the drugs took effect, he saw me one more time. "Love you, Baby".
Those were the last words he said to me.
My Dad died at 12:20 p.m. on Saturday, July 2. Mo called us at 12:30 p.m. The last thing Mo had said to us when we left her just a few hours earlier was: If there is a God, He better show himself soon.
Amen.
There was no funeral. I promised Daddy I wouldn't let that happen. When we are all ready, the family will head to the coast and give Daddy back to the ocean. I promised him I would make that happen.
We are now in the process of going through his belongings. Samuel has been wearing "Poppa Charlie's" t-shirt that has Yosemite Sam on it. Daddy loved Yosemite Sam. The t-shirt is so big on Sam, it looks like a nightgown. He doesn't care. It smells like Poppa.
My Dad never bought into the idea of music cd's. It was hard enough for him to transition from vinyl to cassette tapes; he wasn't about to convert all his music to cd's. So Mo gave us the biggest of all Daddy's boom boxes.....oh yeah. Boom boxes. And every night, Mark & I choose a new cassette tape and listen to Daddy's music. I cry. Sometimes we dance. But we always remember the man.
He loved the Blues and Merle Haggard. He taught himself how to play guitar when he was a teenager and besides his kids, his guitar was the constant love of his life. He joined the Army at 17, missed his high school graduation for boot camp and was a Paratrooper in the 181st Airborne Division. He served his country in the Vietnam War and was honorably discharged after he broke his ankle on a jump mission. The Army wouldn't clear him to jump again and so they parted ways. He was a garbage man, a mill worker, a logger, a construction worker and a bartender. He was blue collar. He was born in New Jersey, was raised by foster parents and spent his entire life wondering where he came from. He was married twice. And divorced twice. He spent the majority of my adolescent years high on cocaine. He entered rehab when I was 18 and he was clean for the last 23 years. He loved ice cream, duct tape and vice gripes. He shopped at the Goodwill and had a fondness for fine point pens. It took 7 days to make his secret spaghetti sauce. He used to walk around the house, half singing-half yelling a song he made up about "baby chicks and baby ducks". And he could stand in front of the mirror while wearing 70's flared bottom trouser pants, paired with what can only be described as the male version of a peasant blouse, and pointy- toed boots and know that he looked good!
I miss him. And Nico misses him. We all miss him. He was a giant in our lives. Nick & I were talking on the phone last week and I said something about wandering through my house; too antsy to sit down but unable to focus long enough to accomplish anything. And Nick responds with: Yeah....you got Dad's personality.....always wound up!
I should be offended. And yet, I find it comforting. Daddy always said: You are your father's daughter.
Yes. Yes I am.
Daddy. That's what I called him. Or Father....when I was being sarcastic. I was also fond of calling him Chuckie White Shoes.....on account of his fondness for a pair of white, point-y toed shoes, circa 1967. He had his own style, my Daddy did.
It's a horrible thing to watch someone you love die. In the moment, you feel helpless. In the aftermath, you are overcome with grief......and relief. And therein lies the struggle. You desperately miss that person you loved and yet it's a blessing to know they are no longer in pain.
Congestive heart failure wins.
My Dad was in and out of the hospital for the last nine months of his life, almost every two weeks; his lungs would fill up with fluid and he couldn't breathe. "It feels like I'm drowning", he'd say. In January, my brother (Nick) flew in from Florida when Chuckie landed in the cardiac unit at OHSU. The situation was grave, but our Dad rallied and was ultimately released. Nick flew home and we all said a little prayer that this was it.
It wasn't. In and out; in and out of hospitals he was. "Tune ups", he'd call them. He'd stay for a few days, they'd pump the fluid off his lungs and he'd go home. For about 2 weeks. In May, he landed in the hospital for 21 days. He was intebated twice, coded once and when the dust cleared we were told by the doctors that they'd exhausted all medical interventions. His heart was too weak...... it was now time to make him comfortable.
We brought him home the first weekend in June and for the first 2 1/2 weeks, he seemed to be doing well. He was on oxygen, which he hated, but he could walk on his own & take care of his own needs. Mark & I had a family vacation planned for mid June and Daddy made me promise we'd go...... he'd "never forgive me" if I didn't.....and so I did. I called him everyday to check in and we'd visit for about 10 minutes and then he'd get tired and we'd end the call. "I love you, Daddy", I'd say. And then I'd hang up and cry for 1o minutes. I knew he was failing. He was losing his speech and short term memory. Mo, "his sweetie", told me he was sleeping alot and would "fade in and out" during the day. She said when he heard my voice on the phone, he'd immediately perk up....but the minute we hung up, he'd go back to sleep. Three days before my family and I were to return home, Mo called and said I had to get Nick to fly out. Dad was asking for him. "I need to see my boy", he said. I knew when I left that there was a good chance my Dad could die while I was gone, but I was ok with it. I'd spent every spare minute with him that I could and we had said the things that we needed to say to one another. "We're square", he'd said. But I knew that wasn't the case with Nick, and so I made the call. "It's time to come home, Nico..... he won't be able to let go until he sees you."
Nick flew in on a Saturday and stayed four days. He spent all day with Dad, who was by now in a hospital bed in the living room. He wasn't eating, but for a few bites here and there; and he slept most of the day. But he still recognized his family and he and Nick were able to say their final goodbyes.
I arrived the following Tuesday. Mark and I hit the state of Oregon and drove immediately to my Dad. We stayed for 3 hours, gathered up Nick and his belongings and took him with us back to Salem where Gina was waiting to take Nick to Portland to catch his flight out. I don't ever remember seeing my brother cry like he did when he walked out of Dad's house and climbed into our truck. The magnitude of knowing he'd never see our Dad again struck a might blow. He cried the entire drive to Salem. I cried right along with him.
I continued to call Dad the next two days and by Friday, while sitting at work, I was overcome with the feeling that I had to see him. It was a pull.....like a magnet. The Monsters were with Mark's parents, so from work I drove home, changed and headed straight for Dad & Mo.
I was not prepared for the next 12 hours. Daddy had completely deteriorated. He was combative and only had flashes of recognition. My first three hours were spent struggling to keep him in his bed. He wanted out but didn't understand that he had no strength to support himself. "Daddy, NO!" I'd say, using my body to block him and my weight to practically sit on him to keep him from getting up. At one point, after about 5 minutes and me thinking he was done, he began to struggle up and against me and I said in my best smart ass tone: "I swear to God, Dad......I will knock you out if I have to! And I weigh more than you now!!" His face flashed with recognition and his response was: That's my Baby.
As the night wore on and the struggle continued and the meds had no effect, Mo called for the hospice nurse and I called Mark. Mo didn't want to be left alone, and I didn't want to be without Mark. So Marky jumped in the truck and came to our rescue. Daddy immediately recognized his "Sweet Lou" and about an hour later, the drugs kicked in and he was peaceful.
We stayed through the night and into the next morning; enduring another three hour struggle in between. At one point all three of us were keeping Dad in bed. No one said it aloud but I know we were all thinking it: If we could just give him one big dose of morphine.......
That thought. It's not just to end the suffering of your loved one. It's to end yours as well. Watching death take it's time, slowly robbing your loved one of their dignity;inconsiderate to the fact that you are helpless to their pleas for help. "Just kill me", Daddy would say. And he'd look at Mo and ask, "Does my daughter know? " And I was sitting at his bedside the entire time. "I'm here, Daddy....I'm here". And right before the drugs took effect, he saw me one more time. "Love you, Baby".
Those were the last words he said to me.
My Dad died at 12:20 p.m. on Saturday, July 2. Mo called us at 12:30 p.m. The last thing Mo had said to us when we left her just a few hours earlier was: If there is a God, He better show himself soon.
Amen.
There was no funeral. I promised Daddy I wouldn't let that happen. When we are all ready, the family will head to the coast and give Daddy back to the ocean. I promised him I would make that happen.
We are now in the process of going through his belongings. Samuel has been wearing "Poppa Charlie's" t-shirt that has Yosemite Sam on it. Daddy loved Yosemite Sam. The t-shirt is so big on Sam, it looks like a nightgown. He doesn't care. It smells like Poppa.
My Dad never bought into the idea of music cd's. It was hard enough for him to transition from vinyl to cassette tapes; he wasn't about to convert all his music to cd's. So Mo gave us the biggest of all Daddy's boom boxes.....oh yeah. Boom boxes. And every night, Mark & I choose a new cassette tape and listen to Daddy's music. I cry. Sometimes we dance. But we always remember the man.
He loved the Blues and Merle Haggard. He taught himself how to play guitar when he was a teenager and besides his kids, his guitar was the constant love of his life. He joined the Army at 17, missed his high school graduation for boot camp and was a Paratrooper in the 181st Airborne Division. He served his country in the Vietnam War and was honorably discharged after he broke his ankle on a jump mission. The Army wouldn't clear him to jump again and so they parted ways. He was a garbage man, a mill worker, a logger, a construction worker and a bartender. He was blue collar. He was born in New Jersey, was raised by foster parents and spent his entire life wondering where he came from. He was married twice. And divorced twice. He spent the majority of my adolescent years high on cocaine. He entered rehab when I was 18 and he was clean for the last 23 years. He loved ice cream, duct tape and vice gripes. He shopped at the Goodwill and had a fondness for fine point pens. It took 7 days to make his secret spaghetti sauce. He used to walk around the house, half singing-half yelling a song he made up about "baby chicks and baby ducks". And he could stand in front of the mirror while wearing 70's flared bottom trouser pants, paired with what can only be described as the male version of a peasant blouse, and pointy- toed boots and know that he looked good!
I miss him. And Nico misses him. We all miss him. He was a giant in our lives. Nick & I were talking on the phone last week and I said something about wandering through my house; too antsy to sit down but unable to focus long enough to accomplish anything. And Nick responds with: Yeah....you got Dad's personality.....always wound up!
I should be offended. And yet, I find it comforting. Daddy always said: You are your father's daughter.
Yes. Yes I am.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Viva Las Vegas........
Bitches!
Guess who's in Vegas?
KB & me!
How long we been here?
On our second day.
Guess who got a call at 5:15 a.m. from SW Airlines saying her 7:25 a.m. flight was delayed so they just went ahead & booked me on the non- stop, 6:55 a.m. flight and I had 30 minutes to get to the airport?
That'd be me.
Guess who's soooooooo fkn lucky her sister lives 15 min from the airport aaaaaaaaaaand said fkn lucky person just happened to have previously stayed the night?
Guess who's in Vegas?
KB & me!
How long we been here?
On our second day.
Guess who got a call at 5:15 a.m. from SW Airlines saying her 7:25 a.m. flight was delayed so they just went ahead & booked me on the non- stop, 6:55 a.m. flight and I had 30 minutes to get to the airport?
That'd be me.
Guess who's soooooooo fkn lucky her sister lives 15 min from the airport aaaaaaaaaaand said fkn lucky person just happened to have previously stayed the night?
Me.
And me.
Did I make it?
Yes, I did.
How much time did I have from the time I made it to the gate to the time they began boarding?
THREE fkn minutes.
Who gets picked up from the airport by a limo and heads directly to the liquor store?
WE DO!
Who spent four hours poolside slathered in SPF; their lips slicked with gloss while ordering one Dirty South after another?
WE DID.
Who enjoyed fine dining at the Eiffel Tower, Paris overlooking the Bellagio fountains and watched said fountains go off every 20 minutes during their 6 course sampler meal?
KB & I.
Who took the elevator ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower; 46 stories high and became nauseated and almost threw up in a garbage can?
I so wish I could that it was Kristin......
[Note to Paris hotel management: vent your kitchen's exhaust somewhere other than UP! The smell of cooking meat at 46 stories high is enough to make anyone hurl.]
Which I did not.
But it was a close fkn call, Folks!
We just returned from over three hours at the pool surrounded by Housewives of Random Cities in America.
And me.
Did I make it?
Yes, I did.
How much time did I have from the time I made it to the gate to the time they began boarding?
THREE fkn minutes.
Who gets picked up from the airport by a limo and heads directly to the liquor store?
WE DO!
Who spent four hours poolside slathered in SPF; their lips slicked with gloss while ordering one Dirty South after another?
WE DID.
Who enjoyed fine dining at the Eiffel Tower, Paris overlooking the Bellagio fountains and watched said fountains go off every 20 minutes during their 6 course sampler meal?
KB & I.
Who took the elevator ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower; 46 stories high and became nauseated and almost threw up in a garbage can?
I so wish I could that it was Kristin......
[Note to Paris hotel management: vent your kitchen's exhaust somewhere other than UP! The smell of cooking meat at 46 stories high is enough to make anyone hurl.]
Which I did not.
But it was a close fkn call, Folks!
We just returned from over three hours at the pool surrounded by Housewives of Random Cities in America.
Kill me.
I pulled the plug when TIFFANY reminded me her name was not Diana. Instead of telling her "It's a fkn miracle I made the effort to even call you by A name, let alone your name.....", I hailed over our lame-ass cocktail waitress and yelled: CHECK PLEASE! Said lame-ass waitress then took 10 minutes to "bring our check" and when she showed up, proceeded to stand over our lounge chairs and say: "Ha ha! I knew I was forgetting something!"
I pulled the plug when TIFFANY reminded me her name was not Diana. Instead of telling her "It's a fkn miracle I made the effort to even call you by A name, let alone your name.....", I hailed over our lame-ass cocktail waitress and yelled: CHECK PLEASE! Said lame-ass waitress then took 10 minutes to "bring our check" and when she showed up, proceeded to stand over our lounge chairs and say: "Ha ha! I knew I was forgetting something!"
To which I said to KB: That's cause to forget her tip.....you got me?
And just because I am me, on the way out I motioned over the waitress I'd watched bust a move all day for her customers and said: Hi Jenifer......you work tomorrow? Yes, she said. SUPER!, I said. You come find the two of us and if we are not in your section, we'll move. Cuz you busted your ass today and we like that....and this one here (pointing at KB), she's a hell of a tipper when I sign off on it!
And that's how you do it in Vegas when your BFF refuses to let you pay for anything and you're a smart mouthed bitch like me!
And just because I am me, on the way out I motioned over the waitress I'd watched bust a move all day for her customers and said: Hi Jenifer......you work tomorrow? Yes, she said. SUPER!, I said. You come find the two of us and if we are not in your section, we'll move. Cuz you busted your ass today and we like that....and this one here (pointing at KB), she's a hell of a tipper when I sign off on it!
And that's how you do it in Vegas when your BFF refuses to let you pay for anything and you're a smart mouthed bitch like me!
[Postscript: I drafted this post on Friday, May 13 and it's taken this long to actually post it. It was a comedy of errors, what with Blogger being down for 20.5 hours and me using my new iPad.....and it being so much smarter than I am! I will have the second half of the Vegas experience posted soon!]
Monday, April 4, 2011
How U Like ME Now?
Just so we are all on the same page:
The number of families who requested Mark & I as their child's baseball coach has gone up from 14 to EIGHTEEN. Any sort of smug, In your face! revelry that I was feeling before, has been replaced with sheepishness as the Little League Peeps are not too happy with our popularity.
They could totally care less that this all about ME.
In related news, Mark has decided that I can no longer drink margaritas and email the team parents.
The number of families who requested Mark & I as their child's baseball coach has gone up from 14 to EIGHTEEN. Any sort of smug, In your face! revelry that I was feeling before, has been replaced with sheepishness as the Little League Peeps are not too happy with our popularity.
They could totally care less that this all about ME.
In related news, Mark has decided that I can no longer drink margaritas and email the team parents.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
TEAM PLAYER
Baseball season is upon us.
Mark picked up our gear and player roster tonight. We are coaching AA ball again and this year we are......... wait for it........The Bowling Green Hot Rods!
People say, Who?
The Bowling Green Hot Rods- the Minor A team of the Tampa Bay Rays.
Vrooom! Vrooom!
But I digress.
Anyway, baseball is in our face and it's the little things in life that really fire us up. Two things, actually. First, we couldn't get over how nice and NEW our gear bag was. Last years was so old and tattered and the stupid zipper would only sometimes zip. This year our bag is multiple colors and NEW and sturdy with wall supports so that when you open it, it doesn't collapse into itself. Did I mention NEW? So what, are you wondering, could top a new gear bag?
NEW CATCHER'S GEAR, BABY!!!
2 sets of shin guards.
2 chest plates.
1 NEW mask and,
a SWEET! catcher's mitt.
Last year our catcher's gear was....... pitiful. The shin guards were too big for our kids, so to keep them up I had to cinch them so tight I was fearful I'd cut the blood supply off in my Catcher's legs. The chest plate's back straps were constantly getting tangled in all the fraying that was occurring on the straps themselves and we had no catcher's mitt. Pathetic would be another word to describe our shameful situation.
Upon seeing our new gear, insert two mildly overweight, 40- somethings completely losing their minds in the garage! There was jumping up and down; a high five so vigorous it may or may not have hurt my (delicate & feminine)hand; and someone exclaimed to the neighborhood: This is fkn AWESOME!
(Shame on all of you who immediately assumed it was me! You're right, of course, but seriously- shame on you for assuming the worst in me!)
Getting so worked up over the new gear left us with a mighty thirst, so we made ourselves a cocktail and commenced to looking over our player roster. We had three returning players from last year. Huh? I knew that 5 returning parents had requested Mark because they contacted me to confirm we were coaching again.
So I say to Mark: WTH is going on with this list? Where's Bill and Ted?
(Not their real names...minors. Protecting them....and cracking myself up in the process!)
Mark: WHAT? They're two of our best players!
Me: Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Who are not on our roster.
Mark (with a know it all smirk on his face): Well.....the director did say she had FOURTEEN families request me......
Me: FOURRRRRRRRRR TEEEEEEEEEEN?
Mark (cracking himself up): Did I stutter? Four. Teen.
Me: OMG! That has to be some sort of record for coach requests! I'm so proud of you, Mark..... you really are the best coach out there.........I guess they really couldn't give us every kid that wanted to be on your team.
Mark: Yeah, that wouldn't be fair. Still.......two of our best kids....And Bill's been with us for two years.
Me: I can't get over the number.....FOURTEEN. It's so impressive.......and such an amazing reflection of you and your coaching style.
Mark: Yeah......about that........ they told me what the number reason the parents gave for requesting me was......
Me: What was it? Patience? Skill? Oh! You're ability to relate the fundamentals of the game to the kids on their level?
Mark: Uh.....no.......
Me: Tell me! What was the reason everyone kept asking for you?
Mark: They said it was because of our communication style with the parents.
Me: Wait, what?
Mark (sheepish): Yeah.....the parents who requested me told the director it was because they either knew of or had heard about how we communicate with parents; all the information we continue to pass along throughout the entire season.....well the word is out and we are the best. So they all asked for me.
Me (incredulously): YOU?
Mark (starting to snicker): ME. But I told the director I couldn't take the credit for that.....I told her that was all you. I told her you run the show when it comes to information.
Me: So it really isn't about you. It's about ME! They just don't know it's ME! ME! ME! ME!
Mark: Hey now...... there's no "I" in "Team", Sister.
Me: No.....but there's an "M" and an "E" and that spells ME!
Mark picked up our gear and player roster tonight. We are coaching AA ball again and this year we are......... wait for it........The Bowling Green Hot Rods!
People say, Who?
The Bowling Green Hot Rods- the Minor A team of the Tampa Bay Rays.
Vrooom! Vrooom!
But I digress.
Anyway, baseball is in our face and it's the little things in life that really fire us up. Two things, actually. First, we couldn't get over how nice and NEW our gear bag was. Last years was so old and tattered and the stupid zipper would only sometimes zip. This year our bag is multiple colors and NEW and sturdy with wall supports so that when you open it, it doesn't collapse into itself. Did I mention NEW? So what, are you wondering, could top a new gear bag?
NEW CATCHER'S GEAR, BABY!!!
2 sets of shin guards.
2 chest plates.
1 NEW mask and,
a SWEET! catcher's mitt.
Last year our catcher's gear was....... pitiful. The shin guards were too big for our kids, so to keep them up I had to cinch them so tight I was fearful I'd cut the blood supply off in my Catcher's legs. The chest plate's back straps were constantly getting tangled in all the fraying that was occurring on the straps themselves and we had no catcher's mitt. Pathetic would be another word to describe our shameful situation.
Upon seeing our new gear, insert two mildly overweight, 40- somethings completely losing their minds in the garage! There was jumping up and down; a high five so vigorous it may or may not have hurt my (delicate & feminine)hand; and someone exclaimed to the neighborhood: This is fkn AWESOME!
(Shame on all of you who immediately assumed it was me! You're right, of course, but seriously- shame on you for assuming the worst in me!)
Getting so worked up over the new gear left us with a mighty thirst, so we made ourselves a cocktail and commenced to looking over our player roster. We had three returning players from last year. Huh? I knew that 5 returning parents had requested Mark because they contacted me to confirm we were coaching again.
So I say to Mark: WTH is going on with this list? Where's Bill and Ted?
(Not their real names...minors. Protecting them....and cracking myself up in the process!)
Mark: WHAT? They're two of our best players!
Me: Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Who are not on our roster.
Mark (with a know it all smirk on his face): Well.....the director did say she had FOURTEEN families request me......
Me: FOURRRRRRRRRR TEEEEEEEEEEN?
Mark (cracking himself up): Did I stutter? Four. Teen.
Me: OMG! That has to be some sort of record for coach requests! I'm so proud of you, Mark..... you really are the best coach out there.........I guess they really couldn't give us every kid that wanted to be on your team.
Mark: Yeah, that wouldn't be fair. Still.......two of our best kids....And Bill's been with us for two years.
Me: I can't get over the number.....FOURTEEN. It's so impressive.......and such an amazing reflection of you and your coaching style.
Mark: Yeah......about that........ they told me what the number reason the parents gave for requesting me was......
Me: What was it? Patience? Skill? Oh! You're ability to relate the fundamentals of the game to the kids on their level?
Mark: Uh.....no.......
Me: Tell me! What was the reason everyone kept asking for you?
Mark: They said it was because of our communication style with the parents.
Me: Wait, what?
Mark (sheepish): Yeah.....the parents who requested me told the director it was because they either knew of or had heard about how we communicate with parents; all the information we continue to pass along throughout the entire season.....well the word is out and we are the best. So they all asked for me.
Me (incredulously): YOU?
Mark (starting to snicker): ME. But I told the director I couldn't take the credit for that.....I told her that was all you. I told her you run the show when it comes to information.
Me: So it really isn't about you. It's about ME! They just don't know it's ME! ME! ME! ME!
Mark: Hey now...... there's no "I" in "Team", Sister.
Me: No.....but there's an "M" and an "E" and that spells ME!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Very Guy, Very Gay
Two weeks ago my husband decided it was time for us to get new cell phones.
Seriously..... it's a toss up as to what I'd like to do the least.
Go pick out new phones or step foot on a car lot.
Kill me. Now. Please!
Super short, "catch you up" back story: Mark & I have been using Go! phones for the last two years because we refused to pay AT&T money to let us out of our contracts. We also refused to buy any more of their POS phones, since they all break within a year....or 60 days if your name is Mark. Armed with the confirmation that both our contracts were up, Mark was on a mission to give AT&T the international bird and get us both a phone that wasn't the size of a candy bar.
Long story short & 2 hours later, we walked out of the Verizon store armed with a new plan & two new phones.
And Hell, Yes! It was totally satisfying to tell Ashley from AT&T that her "mission to provide excellent customer service" was about 13 fkn years too late! And no, there is NOTHING else you can do for me today.
I chose the LG Octane. LOVE IT. It's a flip phone with a full keyboard for texting. That's it. No data plan, no email, no bells and whistles. Simple. Cause for me, Smart Phones are STUPID.
I do have a camera and I've yet to figure out how to use it. It took me 24hrs to figure out how to ANSWER the goddamn phone.....the camera could take months!
Marky got himself a Droid. The biggie popcorn Droid. With the data plan. And the 8 mega pixel camera. The phone does everything but wipe his ass for him.
And I am confident that if the phone could, he would let it!
Since getting his Droid, Mark has not put it down. It's never out of his sight; attached to his hip when not in his hands. The first thing he did was download a Green Bay Packer wallpaper. The second thing he did was download Ozzy Osborne's "Crazy Train" as his ring tone. The third thing he did was figure out how to make his screen light up from sleep mode.
This may or may not have taken hours and included a phone call to our Verizon specialist, Josh.
This week he has done nothing but download free songs onto his Droid. He started off Very Guy: AC/DC, Cheap Trick, Ozzy, Great White, Tesla, Queen; alot of classic Rock; a few 80's Hair Bands. You get the gist. But we've now turned a corner.......and we've done nothing but play the following game for the last 24hrs. I call it: Hey Babe, Who Sings.....? It goes like this:
Mark: Hey Babe, who sings that song about the night?
Me: Gotta be a little more specific......
Mark: Oh...... let's see...... it's a duet.
Me: Yeah....little more would be helpful..................
Mark: Kelly Clarkson is the female voice and you said we saw her perform it on an awards show and I said she looked really chubby.
Me: Kelly Clarkson & Jason Aldean. "Don't You Wanna Stay."
Mark: Yeah! That's it. I love that song.
[Insert 5 minutes of Mark fkn around with his phone and me trying to read the news on the internet]
Mark: Hey Babe......who sings that song I think Michael Jackson sang first?
Me: Mark! Are you kidding me?
Mark: C'mon................. you know it. I know you know it...... Mariah Carey sang it. I think.
Me: Oh ffs...it was a Jackson Five song, not Michael's and it was "I'll Be There".
Mark: Yeah! That's it. I love that song. It had that guy....he was amazing.
Me: Trey Lorenz.
Mark: Yeah! That's the guy.
[Insert Mark downloading the song and then playing it for me.]
Mark: Hey Babe..... what other songs do I like? I can't think of them when I want to.......
Me [not looking at Mark and trying reallllly hard to ignore his ass]: Hey, I bet your super smart phone has some sort of neat word pad feature that would allow you TO WRITE DOWN YOUR SONGS WHEN YOU THINK OF THEM!
Mark: Do you think so?
[Insert him downloading and playing FOR ME, Purple Rain.]
Me: Really? Prince?
Mark: You love him.
Me: So. Don't love him.
Mark: He's a really talented artist.
Me: And he dresses like a wee sized Liberace.
Mark: Oh my God! I love this song!
[Insert him playing FOR ME, Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin]
Me: Anything but Prince.......
[Insert more of Mark fkn around on his phone, sampling music & playing it FOR ME: 3 ballads by Vince Gill; Beautiful by Christina Aguilera; In the Arms of an Angel by Sarah McLachlan and She's Always a Woman by Billy Joel.]
Me: You might be gay.........
Mark: What? I'm not gay..... what are you talking about "gay"?
Me: Look at your phone and read me the last three songs you downloaded......
[Insert Mark reading his phone]
Mark: No.
Me: READ THEM......NOW!
Mark: Just Between You and Me, Piano Man and.......[insert Mark mumbling the last song.....]
Me [totally beginning to snicker....] I'm sorry, what was that last one?
More mumbling from Mark.......
Me: OWN IT. What's the last song you just downloaded?
Mark [shouting]: TINY DANCER! Ok....... Elton John's Tiny Dancer. You happy now?
Me [totally laughing out loud]: Hell yeah, I'm happy...... I just realized I'm married to my Gay Boyfriend!
Mark: You're not so funny......
Me: Really? What are you downloading right now?
Mark: Roberta Flack.......Killing Me Softly.
Yeah. I know the feeling.....................
Seriously..... it's a toss up as to what I'd like to do the least.
Go pick out new phones or step foot on a car lot.
Kill me. Now. Please!
Super short, "catch you up" back story: Mark & I have been using Go! phones for the last two years because we refused to pay AT&T money to let us out of our contracts. We also refused to buy any more of their POS phones, since they all break within a year....or 60 days if your name is Mark. Armed with the confirmation that both our contracts were up, Mark was on a mission to give AT&T the international bird and get us both a phone that wasn't the size of a candy bar.
Long story short & 2 hours later, we walked out of the Verizon store armed with a new plan & two new phones.
And Hell, Yes! It was totally satisfying to tell Ashley from AT&T that her "mission to provide excellent customer service" was about 13 fkn years too late! And no, there is NOTHING else you can do for me today.
I chose the LG Octane. LOVE IT. It's a flip phone with a full keyboard for texting. That's it. No data plan, no email, no bells and whistles. Simple. Cause for me, Smart Phones are STUPID.
I do have a camera and I've yet to figure out how to use it. It took me 24hrs to figure out how to ANSWER the goddamn phone.....the camera could take months!
Marky got himself a Droid. The biggie popcorn Droid. With the data plan. And the 8 mega pixel camera. The phone does everything but wipe his ass for him.
And I am confident that if the phone could, he would let it!
Since getting his Droid, Mark has not put it down. It's never out of his sight; attached to his hip when not in his hands. The first thing he did was download a Green Bay Packer wallpaper. The second thing he did was download Ozzy Osborne's "Crazy Train" as his ring tone. The third thing he did was figure out how to make his screen light up from sleep mode.
This may or may not have taken hours and included a phone call to our Verizon specialist, Josh.
This week he has done nothing but download free songs onto his Droid. He started off Very Guy: AC/DC, Cheap Trick, Ozzy, Great White, Tesla, Queen; alot of classic Rock; a few 80's Hair Bands. You get the gist. But we've now turned a corner.......and we've done nothing but play the following game for the last 24hrs. I call it: Hey Babe, Who Sings.....? It goes like this:
Mark: Hey Babe, who sings that song about the night?
Me: Gotta be a little more specific......
Mark: Oh...... let's see...... it's a duet.
Me: Yeah....little more would be helpful..................
Mark: Kelly Clarkson is the female voice and you said we saw her perform it on an awards show and I said she looked really chubby.
Me: Kelly Clarkson & Jason Aldean. "Don't You Wanna Stay."
Mark: Yeah! That's it. I love that song.
[Insert 5 minutes of Mark fkn around with his phone and me trying to read the news on the internet]
Mark: Hey Babe......who sings that song I think Michael Jackson sang first?
Me: Mark! Are you kidding me?
Mark: C'mon................. you know it. I know you know it...... Mariah Carey sang it. I think.
Me: Oh ffs...it was a Jackson Five song, not Michael's and it was "I'll Be There".
Mark: Yeah! That's it. I love that song. It had that guy....he was amazing.
Me: Trey Lorenz.
Mark: Yeah! That's the guy.
[Insert Mark downloading the song and then playing it for me.]
Mark: Hey Babe..... what other songs do I like? I can't think of them when I want to.......
Me [not looking at Mark and trying reallllly hard to ignore his ass]: Hey, I bet your super smart phone has some sort of neat word pad feature that would allow you TO WRITE DOWN YOUR SONGS WHEN YOU THINK OF THEM!
Mark: Do you think so?
[Insert him downloading and playing FOR ME, Purple Rain.]
Me: Really? Prince?
Mark: You love him.
Me: So. Don't love him.
Mark: He's a really talented artist.
Me: And he dresses like a wee sized Liberace.
Mark: Oh my God! I love this song!
[Insert him playing FOR ME, Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin]
Me: Anything but Prince.......
[Insert more of Mark fkn around on his phone, sampling music & playing it FOR ME: 3 ballads by Vince Gill; Beautiful by Christina Aguilera; In the Arms of an Angel by Sarah McLachlan and She's Always a Woman by Billy Joel.]
Me: You might be gay.........
Mark: What? I'm not gay..... what are you talking about "gay"?
Me: Look at your phone and read me the last three songs you downloaded......
[Insert Mark reading his phone]
Mark: No.
Me: READ THEM......NOW!
Mark: Just Between You and Me, Piano Man and.......[insert Mark mumbling the last song.....]
Me [totally beginning to snicker....] I'm sorry, what was that last one?
More mumbling from Mark.......
Me: OWN IT. What's the last song you just downloaded?
Mark [shouting]: TINY DANCER! Ok....... Elton John's Tiny Dancer. You happy now?
Me [totally laughing out loud]: Hell yeah, I'm happy...... I just realized I'm married to my Gay Boyfriend!
Mark: You're not so funny......
Me: Really? What are you downloading right now?
Mark: Roberta Flack.......Killing Me Softly.
Yeah. I know the feeling.....................
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