You’ve missed me, I know it. I apologize for being away for so long - 2 weeks is way too long for you, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. You can send me cash to help ease the pain. Yes, your pain. Giving makes you feel better. Nothing lower than a $20 please.
I was going to make up something really fun, like that I was away on a “secret” mission but that’s dumb, and I’m way too tired to think of something fun, so instead, I’ll tell you the truth. For once.
We bought a new house! Yes, we just bought one last year right around this time but we like to keep things interesting, by interesting, I mean complicated. I’m going to post photos once we get settled - we’re mostly done but I like things just right before I show people my lair.
Our two grown sons are staying at the other house (YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), Oh, did I sound too enthusiastic? I meant (BOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO), but they’re about a 4 minute drive from us, so we can lock the doors and hide in plenty of time visit anytime and vise versa.
I must say it’s a very nice house, our nicest to date and big. We like big. Well not everything should be big, because ass pimples are not pretty. Nevermind. (OMG no, I don’t really have one of those - purely for comedic purposes).
We stayed up until 2 a.m. working, putting stuff away because I can’t handle living out of boxes. It drives the ANALish tendencies in me, crazy. And we can’t have crazy.
There’s a techy dude from the security systems place here right now, installing his shiznat. We’ve never had a security system before, but I decided that we need one - uh, not because we have super valuable things (hear that crooks? We got nothin’!), but our new home is a two-story with a walk-out basement, so that makes me paranoid to be sleeping waaaaay upstairs and knowing that waaaay downstairs, there’s an entrance that someone could break into while we’re sleeping (or, um, awake) and maybe I wouldn’t hear it and then they’d try to harm us and then I’d have to get into mama bear mode to protect my young’ens, karate chop the bad guy in the balls (that’s for you Karen), and what if there’s blood after I kick him and then he’d bleed on my white-ish carpet….yuck. See? Way too much to give myself ulcers over, so why not just buy a security system? I highly recommend it if you’re even the slightest bit of a freak worrier such as myself.
Hopefully I pay attention to the security guy and remember the instructions. I certainly don’t need the cops running here every day when I go to water my flowers and forget to unarm (de-arm?) the alarm. That might not be a good situation. I don’t look that nice in handcuffs. Well, there was that one time…….never mind.
Okay, must run and go make up a security code…what about 3456? That’s easy enough right? Thought so!
Or should I say I hated being pregnant? Ya, because I’m currently not pregnant nor will I ever be again.
I recently wrote this for work (Tori Spelling gushing about loving being preggo, blah blah) and I mentioned at the end of the post, that I must be the only woman in the world who hated being pregnant, but to my surprise, I’m not alone.
I was obviously happy to be having a child and not to dismiss the fact that I was lucky enough to conceive a few times, as some women aren’t, I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, it’s just that I didn’t get the warm fuzzy feelings that alot of women get when they’re preggo.
Some women gush about how they love their bodies, they’ve never looked better, feel fantastic, yada yada yada, and if that’s how you feel when you’re with child, fabulous, more power to you. I never did. I never felt glowy (although people told me I was), I did NOT like my pregnant body and although I didn’t gain more than 16 pounds in any of my pregnancies, I always felt fat, bloated and yucky. I did have great hair though, so that’s one nice thing.
I remember when I was pregnant with my first son, I was 19, newly single and had not a frigging clue what to expect. Sure, I knew how people got pregnant (duh), knew the technical stuff about actually giving birth, realized that I’d be shaped like some dude with skinny legs and a beer gut, but really had no idea what I was in for.
I had gone shopping - I was about 7 or 8 months along at that point - and found the cutest peach colored loafers (sure peach coloured loafers now, sound hideous, but this was the 80’s k?) and didn’t even bother to try them on - I was always a size 6.5 or 7, so never any need to try shoes on. I get them home and excitedly take them out of the bag and want to wear them out that night (was going to a movie with a friend) and low and behold, the fuckers don’t fit my feet. What? I immediately look inside the shoes at the size stamped on the side - 7. Again, I try to put my foot in, and nope, that puppy ain’t going in. I take a good look at my feet and realize that they’re SWOLLEN. No one told me that pregnant chicks get swollen feet! I start crying, going on and on how I’ll never wear a size 7 shoe or smaller again. My life was ruined. Never mind the fact that I was about to have a baby at 19 and single, living with my parents, MY DAMN SHOES DON’T FIT. Priorities people, priorities. I vowed then and there, that someday I would wear those peach loafers (oh I did wear them btw - the day I left the hospital).
Other things I didn’t know about being pregnant (at 19) - you don’t get alot of sleep in the latter stages of your pregnancy. Who knew? Strangers come up to you and mention that you look a tad too young to be having a baby and ask personal questions, like are you married (I was separated), do you have a job (I did), are you going to breastfeed? (that’s your business?), do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl (it’s one or the other, yup), can I touch your belly? (um, no), do you have a name picked out? (no), will you have more? (I haven’t even had this one yet) - amazing what people you don’t know, think they’re entitled to know.
Other things I had no idea would happen (again when I was 19) - as I was peeing at around 2 a.m., the pee just kept coming out (ah in the toilet, luckily) and it was sorta freaking me out. After a good two minutes, it clicked that my water had broken. I grab a towel and make it like a diaper and run and get my parents, tell them it’s “time.” My contractions were about every 3 or 4 minutes, and I actually took the time to sit in my room, in front of my big mirror and carefully apply full makeup. Foundation, eye shadow, mascara, blush, lipgloss - the full shebang. I even curled my hair - I mean no one told me that I’d end up looking like a drowned sewer rat after 8 long hours of labour and that hair and makeup is really not required when giving birth.
The best part though - was as I was being wheeled into the delivery room (yes way different back then, you laboured in one room and were carted off to another room to actually give birth), I was asked by a doctor if it would be okay to have some med students watch and take notes? I was high on Demerol, so I naturally said sure. I remember being pretty much stoned, but yet seeing about 5 med students with clipboards and pens, staring at my vagina. One of them was super cute, that I do recall very distinctly. And the next day, as I’m laying in my hospital bed, that same cute dude accompanies the doctor making his rounds. and although his face was in my privates the day before (and um, not in a good way), I totally wanted to ask him out. I bet he would have said yes.
It’s amazing that I went on to have more kids, and although my life circumstances did improve - I still hated being pregnant all the other times too. The heartburn, the feeling like someone (uh the baby?) was pressing on your bladder 24/7, the impossibilty of trying to find that perfect sleeping position, the morning sickness for SEVEN MONTHS, the fear that your water would break in the mall, the bizarre food cravings - how I do not miss those days. Sure I liked getting the cute baby after all of that torture, but the pregnancy itself? Never liked it. Not. one. little. bit.
This post entry has no title. Why you ask? Well when I add a title, I get a bunch of jibberish at the top of my post where my title should be and I have no earthly idea what the hell to do, so I will not be titling posts until further notice. Are you okay with that? Good.
It’s 1:23 a.m. and I’m still awake - well duh, because I’m typing this. I’m not in the least bit tired unless you count holding my eyelids open with toothpicks and punching myself in the neck to keep from falling over, symptoms of being tired.
I had a lady call me today and ask me where her order was. I said I didn’t know and then she screamed at me, saying she was going to sue my ass off or some such silliness. I think she had the wrong number because I haven’t taken orders from crazy people in the last, say, oh EVER. We often get wrong numbers for some glass company, so I’ll assume that’s the place nutjob thought she was calling. I wish her luck in whatever she does. Seriously.
I honestly think I had better go to bed. My kids will be up early - they’re on March/spring break but have yet to realize that this would a perfect week to SLEEP IN. But yet, next week, I will literally have to drag their butts out of bed to get up for school. Why is this? When you figure out the answer let me know please.
Okay, I’m honestly going to bed. By bed I mean I’m going to edit more photos. And watch a movie. And eat candy.
…I’m apparently a liar because I got nothin’. Wait, I found this video - it’s a great lesson in learning the language of whatever country you’re in. I absolutely laughed my ass off. Definately not safe for young ears:
I met the nicest girl the other night. I had stopped into Starbucks to grab my personal crack addiction favourite drink, a Strawberries ‘n cream and as I was waiting for it, I hear, “excuse me.”
I turn around and a young girl (she later told me she was 23 - holy, I’m almost old enough to be her mother - you know, if I had given birth at 2.) was sitting in the chair enjoying her own drink. She wanted to know what shampoo I use because she thought my hair looked so pretty and healthy. Can you imagine how nice it is to be stopped and told how fan-tabulous your hair is? I hated my hair growing up but did learn to love it. Anyway, I told her, then we went on to have a nice conversation about hair, celebrities (told her what I do), just stuff in general. We chatted for about 15 minutes before I had to go. It was just nice that two strangers could have a fun conversation.
I should have totally gotten her phone number! Then I could pester her to go to Starbucks with me. Then she would call the authorities for stalking. Then I’d have to go to court. Then I’d have spend time in jail. Then my hair would suck. Oh see, now that would be bad. Imaginative? Yes, yes I am.
Anyway, thanks to stranger girl for saying nice things about me.
If you have seen any of those creepy videos of Tom Cruise giving an interview, talking about Scientology, then you will love this. It made me laugh. Hard.
Who knew that taking my kids to meet Calgary Flames center Craig Conroy would be so exciting? My oldest and my youngest are big hockey fans and when my son mentioned last week that he wanted to go to the “meet and greet” with Conroy, I had no idea I’d be the one taking them.
We got to the show home (where it was being held) and listened for a bit to the radio show on Fan960, being done live. Even that thrilled my kids. Not so much me. I did take a tour of the show home just to kill time. Later on, we made our way down to the next home to wait for the hockey player that I really don’t know much about. My 7 year old daughter knows way more than I do about such things. I thought she was a princess? Princesses aren’t supposed to know about hockey and sport-ish stuff. Sheesh. And she also entered a contest for the “Junior Reporter” where the winner gets to interview players, gets free tickets, a jersey, goes to a practice and maybe gets to marry one of the players for all I know. Again, I’m pretty much in the dark about such things. Madison is convinced she’s going to win. She has as much of a shot as the next kid, but I’m sure there were lots of entries. Fingers crossed.
We waited about an hour and finally the moment of truth - Craig Conroy walks in. Holy. He was way hotter taller than I thought. All of a sudden I was wishing I knew more about him. Wait, I’m married. Oops. He is in my age range though. Not that that matters. Plus I’m sure I saw a wedding band on his finger. And again, I’m married. Did I mention I’m married. Yes.
I didn’t realize I would get so flustered. God. I didn’t even know what he really looked like before he walked in. He was so nice too. He smiled at each person that went up, signed everything that people asked him to sign, stood up for pictures if you asked, thanked you for coming and waiting in line. He really was a nice guy. And gosh, so hot tall. Just so tall. And his eyes are so blue. Very blue. Not that I was looking. I mostly just watched the wall. Am I babbling? I think I am. Anyway, it was fun seeing my kids so thrilled by it all and getting to meet a “star” in their eyes.
See that photo? Yup that one. It was taken this past summer at Calaway Park here in Calgary. One of my best friends and I bought season passes and took our kids several times during July and August.
While we wished we were in an air conditioned building happily slugged along, our kids ran ahead excitedly. I snapped some photos and the above picture in now featured at http://www.schmap.com HERE, which is kinda cool. So if you’re looking for a fun place to take your kids and have a giant bunny hug them, Calaway Park is the way to go. Yay baby!
It’s past 1am Saturday morning and I’m still sitting here. Why? I should clarify that I’ve not been sitting here since Friday. I do get off my ass and actually get things done. Such as? I don’t remember, but I think it was important. I’ll get some sleep at some point, like WHEN I’M DEAD. However, I don’t think I’ll enjoy quite as much as I do now.
I still have my job by the way, incase you were wondering. It really is a hoot getting to write about Britney Spears and how she must have mashed potatoes for brains. I write about other ‘celebs’ too but BS (ha, nice initials, very appropriate) is my all time favourite. She’s just so easy. Ain’t that the truth? Getting paid to make fun of celebrities is kinda mean the best thing EVER but a girl’s gotta make enough dough to keep her shoe fetish going a living right?
I’ve been listening to my boyfriend’s new song lately and my grown boys hate it. They trash my insane ridiculous fantasy that only a crazy person would dream about man every chance they get but what do they know? They think the sounds of their farts are ‘music’, so there you go, not taking any music advice from them.
Did you realize that Christmas is like 50 some odd days away? Or maybe it’s less. I dunno and I’m not getting up to look at the calendar or count it out in my head. That would require way too much effort which I just don’t have time for. Anyway, I’m about half done my Christmas shopping and what I do have bought, is all wrapped. How sick is that? That’s so sick, it’s awesome. My youngest son is wanting to put up Christmas decorations like now, but I’m going to try to hold him off for at least another 2 weeks, which is probably pointless because he’ll wear me down. He’s very persistant at times. Wish me luck.
My husband and oldest son are going to a hockey game tomorrow night. Battle of Alberta…Calgary Flames and Edmonton soilers Oilers, so it should be a good game. My son, however, doesn’t know that he’s going yet. My husband is surprising him at the last minute. I wanted to go but since my child has tattooed the Flames logo on his arm, I’m thinking he’s probably more of a hockey fan than I am. I might get edgy and draw their symbol with a Sharpie on my face but that’s as far as I’m willing to go. I’ll just stay home and eat way too much Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked read the dictionary like I do every Saturday night.
I’m heading to bed now so I should say good night. By heading to bed, I mean my ass is going to sit her for at least another hour. Sweet dreams.
Edit: Wanted to include a “picture” of Karen and I, as coworkers on the site-aren’t we cute? Of course, duh!
Not just any job, a writing job. Writing! I love to eat, sleep and watch tv too but don’t get paid for that write, it’s one of my great passions (of course along with photography), you know, besides Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked icecream.
So where am I working? Let me tell you the whole story. Get popcorn and a drink because you’re gonna be here awhile or bored and you might as well keep busy with food and drink.
One of my super best friends Karen called me on Monday. I was busy sleeping curing some disease when the phone rang. She told me that one of the writers where she writes left the job and wanted to know if I was interested in the position. Well hells bells. Yes!
She then tells me to write to the ‘boss man’ and ‘be funny’. Well that’s not gonna happen easy because I’m funny 24/7, even while sleeping, so that’s not difficult at all to achieve. I write an email to apply for the position, and I’d like to believe I was offered the job less than 24 hours later because the boss thought I was rivoting, couldn’t take his eyes off of my email sorta deal. Or, it may be, because they were desperate for another writer and desperation makes people do things they wouldn’t normally do, like hiring me. Either way, I got the job!
You can find me at Babble (Fame Crawler) and if you want to read any of my stories, I’m giving you my blessing to do so (aren’t I sweet?) (No seriously, read them. Please?). You can also read my co worker’s stories too-’The Lead Blogger’, ‘The Caffeinated’, ‘The Gossip Whore’, ‘The Brat (Karen, the awesome chick who recommended me), and me, again, this is all about me, ‘The Princess’ (Sassy Smith).
Aren’t you just so excited for me? I, um, actually get paid for writing about celebs and I don’t have to be nice when I’m writing about them either, although I can’t really swear or call their kids ugly but I can so get past that. Can you even imagine my excitement? Let’s just say my excitement is annoying my family, it’s that good.
A big thank you to Karen, Whit and Ada for helping me get started (Karen said she was so happy I wasn’t a tool, ha) and to my fellow co-workers, who welcomed me aboard. I was going to send you all cash as a thank you, but that’s tacky. Instead, wrap your arms around yourself and give yourself a hug, from me to you. Aren’t I thoughtful? Yes, of course I am.
