Tag: humor

Skinny Bitch

Published on by cmglife

My dad told me recently that I am becoming a little cantankerous.  You know, speaking my mind, lashing out.  He thinks it might be because I work in a middle school and have to deal with all kinds of situations and it has caused me to develop an itchy trigger finger.  He may be right about that, but I don’t think so.

I think I’m becoming a skinny bitch.

Skinny bitches are one’s with the attitude because they can fit into a pair of jeans that are at least 20 years younger than they should be wearing.  That may not be the exact definition.

My husband commented that my new jeans are “really low” (low rise).  He can’t get past the fact that I am not wearing 80’s mom jeans.  Though these may be pushing it, I am thrilled I can actually wear them.

I’ve developed a weird body builder quirk.  I’m not by any stretch of the imagination saying that I am a body builder I am just acting like one, I guess.  This is just getting weirder and weirder, maybe it’s the steroids.

If there is someone acting like they are skeptical of my workouts (real or imagined I’m not sure) I’ll ask them to feel my bicep. And then I say, “And I’m not even flexing!”

Oh God, now that I’ve actually written this down I realize how insane I am acting. And yet still surprised!

Confessions of a Mad Woman

Published on by cmglife

Don’t men drive you crazy sometimes? Whether you are in love with them, living with them, married or not, female or not, don’t they just drive you crazy? As a person married to one for twenty years I will tell you it has been one of the biggest tests in my life to stay with my husband.

The other day I actually sprayed his toothbrush with Windex while I was cleaning the bathroom.  It was completely immature, but it gave me great pleasure.  He had hurt my feelings, I was mad, but I was too proud to say anything so I did something so incredibly passive aggressive it should go down in the books.  Anyway, Windex isn’t that poisonous is it?

I contemplated swishing the toothbrush around in the toilet, but that seemed too clichéd.  On the second pass at the sink I felt a pang of guilt so I entertained the idea of rinsing it under the water, but instead I sprayed it again.

The Space Between

Published on by cmglife

“Oh, no.  That’s too bad, I haven’t seen it.”

That is what I will say to my daughter when she notices her rival school’s t-shirt is missing.  She says she doesn’t care if the other kids will make comments or say something. What she doesn’t realize is that I have lived way longer than she has and I know these things will hurt.

It’s almost the same as the “nice rack” moose t-shirt exploiting women’s breasts that was inexplicably lost behind the space between the dryer and the wall until a month ago when it was miraculously found.  By then it was way too small for Tristan to wear anymore.  Darn.  Too bad.

Maybe we’ll find Allison’s t-shirt in the space between the wall and my dresser in a couple of years too.

Exasperation

Published on by cmglife

I am exasperated. Nothing earth shattering, just irritated…generally irritated.

First off, I have the most annoying of annoying co-workers that I need to punch in his throat.  The fantasy just isn’t cutting it anymore.

I want to eat carbs!  I’m going to die if I don’t have a piece of bread today!  If I have to have another fat free yogurt or a grilled chicken breast I’ll end up face down on the kitchen floor sobbing.

I finally love exercising. That scares and sickens me…

Every evening for the last four years (a coincidence, I think not) I’ve had a glass or two of wine.  It’s become a boring habit.  What other vice can I possibly replace the wine with?  Cigarettes? Tried it, doesn’t work.  Meth? Too vain.  Sex? John couldn’t handle that much of me (wink)! Exercise? Already doing it.  Whiskey?  I’ll try it, but I’m not happy about it.

Just as I was getting to the stage of venom dripping from my keyboard, my  family life crept in again in the form of my favorite son, Tristan.  He came into the room and sat down right next to me with his laptop.  I did move to the other side of the couch, but he had already cramped my style.  Then there came John  and he flipped on the tv to watch the game.  I put my headphones on and tried to crawl back into the bitchy little cave I’d constructed.  It didn’t work, couldn’t get my vibe back.

I have a feeling this mood is not over. Oh no, it is definitely is not over.

Actually, I’m not a big woman…

Published on by cmglife

Last summer my “sleep” doctor said to me, “You are not a big woman, but you could stand to lose 5 to 10 lbs.”

But weight (Freudian slip) …a triumph!  I have lost 13 pounds since August.  Why is this significant?

Well, other than I may be looking a little bit “hot”*, it gives me some comfort that maybe my new life on medication is finally working and maybe I will be alright after all. An awful lot of maybes in that last sentence.

What am I doing you ask?  I know it’s unconventional…diet and exercise.  It’s a new feeling for me to be in control of anything.  I don’t think I’ve ever experienced control before anywhere or in any way. Yeah for drugs!

* Parentheses and an asterisk must be used by me for the word “hot” because I am 47 and still haven’t quite adjusted to this word that has been substituted for the more appropriately descriptive “good looking”.

Romance is Not Dead: It’s Just Hacking up a Lung

Published on by cmglife

The other night John was supposed to be home early(ish) so we could go out for a drink.

He called around 8 to say he wouldn’t be home until 9 and then called at 9 to say he wouldn’t be home until around 10. That was alright, I said I would be here anyway, but it was too late to go out. I put Allison to bed and Tristan went downstairs to watch a movie or something.

John came home shortly after 10 and I was all ready for bed sitting there watching Survivor and drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I love them, it is more like a dessert than a drink so since I am watching my calories, it is better to drink than to eat. Even though they say you shouldn’t drink your calories, I don’t care, I just love a Mikes’ Hard Lemonade at the end of the day. As you can see why I am still needing to lose that 10 lbs., my body is carrying around 10 lbs. of rationalized fat!

John seemed to be in a better mood than the situation warranted. He came into the room with a grin on his face and a black plastic bag. For some reason I thought it was maybe a stuffed raccoon at first, I don’t know why. Well, yes, I guess I do know why. He’s done this before, but with pheasant tails, an old stole made out of ferrets (and their faces), a long horn’s skull and just a bunch of various pieces of fur. They weren’t for me personally and I wasn’t sure this was either until he said with a grin, “I’ve got something for you”.

He began the story, when a story begins “I was in a bar in Cheyenne” the rest can’t be good. There is always a story, it can’t be “I picked something nice up for you”.

John says, “I was in a bar and these ladies were having a lingerie sale”.

“In the bar?” I say. He is very sensitive so I have to choose my words and tone carefully.

He laughs pulling out a black and purple corset thing with big bows on the hips.

I’m having a really hard time hiding my dismay, because I can smell it from where I am sitting, and, of course, I can see it. It has been in a bar for god knows how many hours and obviously the bar didn’t have a “no smoking ban”!

“I love it!” he says.

“Then why don’t YOU wear it?” I think.

“I’m going to have to wash it before I can wear it you know.”

“No you don’t, I don’t mind”, I think at this point his mind is seriously on that old one way track, and I have to put my foot down.

“No, I really have to wash it”

“How are you going to wash it?,” he asks.

“I suppose on the delicate cycle on cold.”

“No, I mean so the kids won’t see it.”

He thinks that Tristan is more involved in our laundry than he really is and Allison is pretty much oblivious to almost anything that is not hers. Needless to say I will not be setting the alarm for 2 am to do a clandestine delicate laundry run.

Parknaphobia – JUSTIFIED!

Published on by cmglife

I hope you read my blog entry about my parknaphobia a few months back.  I hope when you read it you believed I had some basis for this phobia and it was not just made up or the paranoid delusions of a crazy person.

Well, if you did think I was crazy (wouldn’t blame you a bit) I have been vindicated because once again I have been involved in a parking incident.

I was at friend’s house where there was a party going on next door parking was limited on the street.   As I have said, if I am in a confident mood I can parallel park with ease.  This time I was and parallel parked. I stayed with my friend for awhile and when I got to my car it was completely blocked in by a couple of very large pick up trucks.

I walked up to my car and past a few men crowded around a little hibachi grill fire laughing and speaking in Spanish.   As I got to my car I realized there were a few beer cans on my back bumper.  I smiled and tried to be at ease, you know casual and “fun”.

Still smiling, I motioned to the cans and said, “Can I have one?”

Not speaking English, they stared at me blankly and smiled removing the cans.  So my little attempt to sound cool and non-nonchalant failed miserably, again.

I got in my car and began to back up. One of the men signaled to me with the universal hand waiving that he would help me pull out.  As I went forward, I cranked the wheel and then backward about six inches and he would use the universal downward fist motion for me to stop.  I know this language because my husband uses “Ho!” and his father uses “Whoa” and I use “Stop” (go figure).

I was fully concentrating on the gentleman’s fist.  I went backward, stop and forward stop about six times before something caught my eye; it was a man I could see in my side view mirror that I was getting awfully close to with my back bumper.  While I was noticing this, of course, I was not looking at the fist and backed into the pick up behind me!  God, those damn split seconds!!!

This then roused all the men to yell the universal “Ohhhh!”  That exclamation has no language barriers.

The man waived me off like it was no big deal.  I was tempted to peel out of there without checking for damage, but what kind of person would I be then?  I did get out and look.  My fiberglass bumper was a mere graze to that diesel’s steel winch.

I thanked the man and said goodbye.  Then I peeled off vowing never to park again!!

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Forehead Forward

Published on by cmglife2 Comments

My father told us once that the reason people are photogenic is because they have faces with sharp angles and high cheek bones.  Well, thanks for your round-faced nonexistent cheek boned DNA, Dad! And thanks for the observation, was it even solicited advice?  No, it wasn’t.

After that I have taken it upon myself not to have my photo taken with anyone, anywhere at any time.  The only time I was “caught” was my wedding photos and some obligatory ones over the years to prove that my children had a mother and my husband did indeed have a wife.  I have luckily not passed down my round-faced nonexistent cheek bone DNA to my children; they have their father’s who is sickenly photogenic.

My oldest daughter is a photographer and just recently showed me a way to make my face look not so round, etc. in photographs.  As you are smiling, slightly move your forehead forward.  It works! No kidding!  So, look out I’m going to be hamming it up whenever there’s a camera around from now on.

So, last month I went to the DMV with a new confidence.  My last license had expired after 10 years.  Back then I had lied about my weight and subtracted 3 lbs. That’s how delusional (and vain) I was back then. My weight still matters to me, so this time I’ve decided to subtract 20 lbs! Don’t think I’ll get away with it?

After getting there at 8am and waiting two hours it was finally my turn.  I knew I looked good.  Full makeup, hair straightened and a flattering top.

“My picture will look great with my new protruding forehead move,” I thought to myself.

The DMV lady said, “Stand in front of the blue screen and look directly at the red light. Push your bangs away from your eyes and put your hair behind your back.”

Well, okay, I did as I was told, thinking, “This isn’t going to do much for my photo.”  Undaunted, I moved my bangs, my hair, put my forehead forward and gave a pleasant smile.  She snapped the photo and I felt confident.

“You closed your eyes, let’s take another one” This happened two more times.

At the last retake I was so strung out trying to keep my hair out of my eyes, hair behind my back, eyes open and forehead forward I didn’t care what happened anymore.

Well, that devil may care attitude got me what I deserved.  The license came in the mail two weeks later and the only one to see it has been my husband, Allison and the guy at the liquor store (I did apologize to him).

When Allison saw it she said sadly, “Oh, were you hot? It looks like you were sweating.”

In the end it was the same round-cheeked, boneless faced, deer caught in headlights look that I have come to love.

Idea of the Week: Sparkling My Wine

Published on by cmglife

My cousin in England served me a sparkling wine last year and after more bottles than I am willing to admit to sampling, I have yet to find something comparable in this country.  That’s when I came up with an idea that I could sparkle my own wine.

I used to drink wine mixed with Sprite because I breastfed my youngest daughter for so long that I had to start drinking!  I figured that diluted wine would be the safest bet.  This is TMI isn’t it?  Still, adding Sprite to wine wasn’t exactly the thing I was looking for.

Last night I was at my sister’s.   I had bought her a Soda Stream last year for Christmas.  My sister carbonized some plain water and added it to my wine…it was delicious.  I heard recently, that if you drink equal amounts of water with your alcohol you won’t get a hangover because you won’t get dehydrated.  Well, I thought maybe if I added “sparkling” water to my alcohol it would kill two birds with one stone (I’m always looking for ways to streamline my drinking). Still, adding sparkling water to my wine wasn’t the thing I was looking for.

I had read an article called “Going Rouge with my Soda Machine”.  It was like it was written for me.  The author had tried sparkling his lemonade and it didn’t work out so well, something about a “mess”.  He said the Soda Machine manual forbids using anything except plain water.

I’m still going to try to Soda Stream the wine straight, warning or not.  Two reasons;  I want to and I’m no longer breast feeding anyone.

Cat Guts

Published on by cmglife

Last week Allison came home from school with her “story of the week” I like to call it.  I’m always afraid of these because I wonder how much this school is affecting her psyche. After all I’ve tried so hard not to let my psyche affect hers.  It’s complicated.

This is the story this time:

Allison:    Today in science class Mr. Ross passed cat guts around the classroom.

Me:          What? Did you say cat guts?

Allison:    Yes,  and we could touch them if we wanted to.  I touched the kidney and it made my fingers tingle even after I stopped touching it.

Me:          Yeah, formaldehyde will do that to you.  You washed your hands after this right?

Allison:    Then I touched the liver, well I thought it was the liver, but it turned out to be the bladder and it was full of urine!

Me:          (dead silence, but with a horrified expression).