Monthly Archives: October 2007

you like me! you really like me!

it’s an auspicious day. someone found my blog. someone googled “pee in a lake” and found my blog. i don’t know why this amuses me, but it does. a lot. 

it also makes me wonder. what were they looking for? a picture? a how-to instruction manual? a kindred spirit? but mostly it makes me wonder, what the hell kind of freak goes around googling for “pee in a lake?!” it’s one thing for me to write about something like that, but quite another for someone to actively go searching for it.

i only have one word for this: sweet!!! it’s nice to know that someone appreciates good work. 

they say an author needs to know his audience and apparently, mine (such as it is) has found me.

happy $%*ing halloween

have you ever been cursed out by a kindergartner? well, it goes something like this: “you stoopid poopy-head mommy! i hate you! you’re the worst mommy in the whole world! i’m going to run away…forever!” it’s not that i am completely unaccustomed to this type of drama. it’s just usually coming out of the mouth of my 11-year-old daughter and not my six-year-old son.                                                       

what, exactly, could incite such language from a small child? i will tell you. tell that small child that he isn’t going trick-or-treating and that is what you will get. i don’t want to go into great detail, but just suffice it to say, last year, my son was really bad. so bad, that i was at the end of my rope. i had no other cards to play except to threaten to withhold the annual candy-collecting pilgrimage. he thought i was bluffing. first lesson: mommies never bluff.

there were many tears (his and mine) and he spent the entire evening in his room alone while his sister went with friends, hauling an extra bag to bring home candy for her stinky brother, whom she felt sorry for.

this time, i am praying things are going to be different. nobody likes to miss out on running around the neighborhood in a ridiculous costume (this year i’m a sexy geisha girl – cos asian girls are hot and i will TOTALLY fool everyone with my outfit) and accepting free candy from strangers, especially me. i have been reminding my son about last year in hopes that there’s no encore. he has promised me he’s going to be good. i’ve even bought him a new costume as an incentive. ok, it’s really a bribe, but whatever works.

he is going to be darth vader because he is going through a huge star wars phase right now and being a huge SW nut myself, i’m fully supporting it. so he has a new costume. and a helmet. and a new light saber that lights up and makes authentic light saber sounds when you bang it against your sister’s head. and a new plastic pumpkin to put his treats in. and he’s been behaving fairly well, apart from that little bus fight incident.

i have really high hopes. all is forgiven. i am setting the bar high, and managing expectations. i’m thinking that this year, he is going to make it. but just in case, i haven’t taken the tags off his costume.

you say tomato and i say tomahto

my sister, sessie, called me the other day. her name is not really sessie because that would be silly. but my son couldn’t say leslie when he was little, so “sessie” was born. my son also couldn’t say ice cream and confounded us for about two weeks while he would stand in front of the refrigerator wailing “suppeee!” we were completely at a loss until one day it all clicked.  i was taking the ice cream out of the freezer when he came barreling over to me.

“oh,” i said relieved. “is THIS what you want?” everything finally becoming clear.

“yes!” he said smiling. “suppeee.”

“ok,” i replied. “suppeee.”

“no, mommy! not suppeee, SUPPEEE!”

when mommy says it, it’s not the same.

anyway, so sessie calls and she and my mom are having dinner and telling stories and sessie tells my mom a story she has never heard. so they decided to call me.

apparently, i had come home from school and told sessie that i had an assignment to teach someone a poem. unable to find a willing guinea pig participant, i decided to enlist sessie to help me. sessie was no more interested in learning a poem than the man in the moon, so i did what any big sister (or brother) would do. i sat on her until she memorized “the fog” by carl sandburg. now being that sessie and my mom were drinking margaritas, and the fact that i have no recollection of this incident whatsoever, i was certainly skeptical, although, it does sound like something i would have done, and she was able to recite it perfectly over the phone:

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

so anyway, apparently, i bullied my sister into getting some culture and 30 years later she still remembers this poem. so i say, no harm, no foul. at least there was a lesson learned, and that’s what childhood is all about, right? sort of like when my other sister dr. laura kicked sessie in the neck. sessie decided to teach her a lesson and pulled some sort of michael jackson thriller dance move like her neck was broken and made a bunch of gurgling noises. dr. laura ran hysterically through the house screaming, “i’ve killed her!! i’ve killed her!!!” dr. laura didn’t mess with sessie for a long time after that.

i think i’ll call mom and tell her that story.

me likey

you know how you have friends and you think you know them? and then they do something to completely surprise you? well, the other day someone turned me on to this.

now, i have heard of the Onion before but i never really looked at it because honestly, i thought that is was a real news site and well, i have no interest in reading or watching the news unless i’m on it, but that’s another story.

so anyway, i decided to see what all the fuss it about. so i’m looking around in here and it’s pretty amusing and sarcastic… and then i find the videos. now i’m still irritated at our IT department for finally figuring out how to close the backdoor on victoria’s secret so i can’t order stuff at work, and i’m particularly pissed that they blocked myspace, and i’m all about a little parody, especially when sex is involved, but …whoa! give a girl some warning so she can at least turn down the volume or avert the monitor from prying eyes. 

apparently IT isn’t smart enough to know that they should be blocking the Onion, but any site that is intelligent enough to allow me to circumvent the oppressive corporate monitoring of my internet usage is tops in my book (or maybe the little nerds do know and their just keeping it open for themselves). 

so Onion, i salute you. and to my introducing friend, for being sneaky and subversive, yet appearing so normal, i say well played.


some geniuses in england recently did a study and found out that people swear at work…and it makes them feel better. now, i have known for a long time that swearing at work (and about work) makes ME feel a lot better, but interesting enough, they also “discovered” that “women also swore more than might traditionally be expected, especially among themselves.”

the research was done by some university near london, and they should really know better, because i happen to know some english people personally, and they can cuss up a storm. my first memory of a grownup cussing happened at a picnic when i was a child. a lovely british lady waiting in line for potato salad said to her companion, “shit, love. you’ve got a prettier paper plate than me.” now, if that doesn’t make you want to use profanity, i don’t know what will.

ok, so it took a freaking research study to figure this out? this was completely unnecessary. they could have just bugged the ladies room during a happy hour. or watched sex and the city. or been in my office when the corporate f*tards sent out the forced vacation email.

if they wanted to know about how women really act they could have just asked me. i’d be happy to demystify the feminine mystique:

  • woman love musicians. the ability to play the guitar will help you get laid. even if the only chords you know are D, E and F…and you don’t even play those really well.
  • anything you say or do, ever, will be held against you.
  • 100% of women who say wearing a thong is “comfortable” are lying. real women go commando.
  • we know shopping is not a sport and we don’t care. it’s how we get even when we’re pissed off at you.
  • woman do fart, but ours are silent and we can blame it on the dog…or the baby, whichever’s closer.
  • porn is good, but what really gets us in the mood is watching you fold up the laundry that’s been sitting in a pile on the couch for 3 days.

there. i just saved somebody a whole lot of money. now i’m going shopping.

13 going on none of your damn business

the author at 13the other day during an admittedly immature conversation i was having with a friend, i was asked if i was feeling 12, to which the only appropriate response i could provide was, no, i’m 13. which got me thinking. what had caused my downward slide into my current state of continuing regressed adolescence? in fact, i think i may be a teenage boy. observe:

  • i watch reruns of family guy and think lois is a good mother.
  • i never hesitate to use a four-letter word when an equally inoffensive one would do just as well (not around the kids of course).
  • i worship at the alter of kevin smith.
  • i prefer the company of men to most females.
  • i find it hysterically funny that my six year old son once remarked after coming and sitting on my lap after i had been out working in the yard on a hot summer day, “ewww mommy, you smell like tuna!”

i think the shift began sometime during my years at college. one of three sisters, i was raised by a baby-boom mother who had always taught me that “a lady doesn’t XXX (you fill in the blank).” so i didn’t. however, after being repeatedly asked by my guy friends, “you don’t have any brothers do you?” in a slightly irritated and condescending way, i realized that apparently i had some huge glaring character flaw which made it obvious to all observers that i had not grown up privy to the peccadillo’s of the male of the human species and had little ability to hide my disdain for them.

so i began to observe how boys behaved. i watched the nonchalance of their interactions. i studied their vernacular. i discovered the joys of raunchy teen movies. i read about sports. i learned how to inconspicuously pee in a lake after drinking a lot of beer while water skiing. i let go of my pre-conceived goody-girl notions. in essence, i learned how to just hang with the guys. and if i didn’t completely embrace all the testosterone fueled, Y-chromosome-based behaviors, well at least i learned how to fake it pretty good.

which brings me back to the present. i wouldn’t say i seek out the company of men over women. it’s just that typically i find them not as complicated, less conniving, more forgiving, easily amused, and the same level of maturity.

so, i guess it all boils down to this: you’re only as young, or as immature as you feel. and maybe, eventually, i’ll act my age. but probably not.

merry xmas to all, now shut the eff up, part 1

as a child of parents who grew up in the 1950s and who instilled in me a great appreciation of all things mid-century american, i have an unexplained and completely irrational love for car trips. like, cross-country, three-days-in-the-car, coast-to-coast car trips. like, if-you-kids-don’t-shut-the-hell-up-i’m-going-to-pull-over-and-spank-every-last-one-of-you-until-you-bleed, car trips.

i still glance longingly at neon howard johnson and holiday inn motel signs while speeding across dark stretches of interstate. i fondly remember stopping at stuckey’s and loading up on cheap trinkets and inedible snacks, including the dreaded peanut log roll, a real cotton boll, and some mexican jumping beans. in retrospect, i realize there were actually tiny moth larvae living inside the beans, and when they stopped jumping, it’s because they were dead… and well, it’s just plain disgusting. but for a child, the road was filled with exciting and mysterious possibilities, and i looked forward to every trip with anticipation.

so when i told my kids (the bully and the princess) that we were driving to disneyworld for christmas vacation i expected to be greeted with excited and gleeful shrieks of joy. instead i was met with horrified stares that spoke volumes without saying a single word – mom has just lost her damn mind. my generation Z kids cannot spend more than 20 minutes in a car without some sort of external stimuli, and coloring books and barbies do not cut it.

“awww, mom do we have to drive? i don’t want to drive. it’s boring. i want to fly!” they moaned.

“why certainly, children, we can fly. do you have $1,500?” i answered.

“does santa know that we’re going to disneyland? how will he know where to bring the presents. i’d rather go to nana’s. santa knows where nana lives,” they whined.

“go to your rooms,” i said calmly, smoke coming out of my ears, my visions of our memorable holiday journey fading.

“the little ingrates,” i silently fumed. “we’re going to freaking DISNEYLAND! at CHRISTMAS for chrissakes! do you know how many little children would kill their siblings to go to DISNEYWORLD during CHRISTMAS?!!”

apparently disneyworld does not mean shit when a journey of 1,000 miles lies between you and the magic kingdom, and santa’s not changing his delivery route.

…to be continued…

i got f*cked and didn’t even get kissed

i’ve always been a reader of Dilbert, and occasionally found the strip funny, like when wally’s farts were harnessed for a fuel source (yes, i’m easily amused), but it never really had a lot of relevance to me until i made the jump from the corporate zoo i call financial services, to the wonderful world of software development. “free at last!” i thought. no more micromanaging bosses, no more pantyhose and closed-toe shoes, no more working for middle-management idiots that only got where they are because their last boss just wanted them gone. no, i’m going to be working with smart nerdy types, i reasoned, but it beats working with self-serving A-holes. so as i began my journey into the world of software development life cycle, and ROI, and marketechture, thus began my indoctrination into the world of all things Dilbert.

so when the following strip appeared in the paper, i laughed knowingly at it’s new-found relevance, but also secretly rejoiced that i no longer worked for a company in which it took an act of god to schedule any vacation in advance, and if you wanted BOTH thanksgiving and xmas off, well, apparently i just did not know the right people to sleep with to make this happen.


then this showed up in my mailbox:

From: Office of XXXX
To:EMPL-COUNTRY-United States
Subject: Extended Holiday Break

Dear Colleagues:

The 2007 calendar year is shaping up to be a very good year for XXX. By almost any measure, this has been the most productive product delivery year we’ve ever had…blah, blah, blah.

So, today I think we should start to think about the holiday season and our plans to enjoy it with family and friends. Many companies around the world and across a broad range of industries use the period between December 24 and January 1 as an extended break period for employees.

…we are announcing an extended holiday break in the U.S. from December 24 through January 1. As you probably know, December 24 and 25, and January 1 are already paid holidays in the U.S. Employees will be required to use vacation or floating holidays for the remaining days, December 26, 27, and 28, and are encouraged to take off December 31 as well.

I believe the extended holiday break will be good for employees, for our families, and for XXX. I hope you agree and I appreciate your support. Enjoy your time off — you’ve earned it!!!

did you see it? take your time. it took a complete rereading for me to fully comprehend the bend-over that was taking place.

Dear Employer:
1. do you think i’m stupid?
b. do you think i’m stupid?
3. do not send some corporate HR asshat down here to feel out employee morale. it’s in the crapper, we hate you all, we can smell fear, and just a whiff of anyone of you could incite an impromptu lynch mob.
4. i know a thinly-veiled attempt to move accrued unpaid vacation off the books in order to make the bottom line look more attractive to stockholders when i see it, but PLEASSSSE do not try to make it seem like you are doing me any favors by forcing me to take my vacation “which i’ve earned!!!” when you want me to. asses. rot in hell.

i just know that some bean counter at corporate headquarters in california came up with this genius idea, and he probably got a big fat bonus for it. i just got screwed. and this time, i didn’t have to sleep with anyone at all.