tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66660617447640292012024-03-13T22:21:49.681-07:00AntiquodditiesA blog about stuff.
It will more than likely be 50% humorous, 50% funny and 50% entertaining.
There may also be 5.3% that offends.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-16236023342588544542013-10-16T06:29:00.001-07:002013-10-16T06:29:09.015-07:00One. Year. <br />
<br />
<br />
It's almost one year since I posted anything here. A lot has happened in a year. Hence my inability to find any free time to write. Sure, I have free time. But I'd rather read, or reorganize my closet or sit and do nothing than write. I write all day, every day. See, what they don't tell us lawyers about being lawyers is that all you do is read and write. Now that I've been practicing for five years (?!), I know the drill. But maybe that last sentence will make someone think twice about pursuing a career as a lawyer. Reading and writing. Not Matlock.<br />
<br />
IN any event, life has kept me very busy. Elise is three now, and Charlotte is one. They are crazy awesome. Elise is like a little person now. She talks constantly, has opinions, loves to dance and is just generally very sweet and good natured.<br />
<br />
Charlotte is walking and running now. She tries to copy Elise all the time. She can meow like a kitty, bark like a dog, say "nana" for banana, "nighnigh" for bedtime, and she sings to herself all the time. She is still nursing some and just recently (fingers crossed), started sleeping through the night. <br />
<br />
We might buy a van.<br />
<br />
Husband is good. Work is good. House is good. We're at the point where we need to make some long-term decisions about where we will live for the long haul. We bought out house with the intention of being there for five or so years. Those five years have come and gone and we are still there. We love our house, but we're not zoned for great schools. So the decision needs to be made about whether we will stay and possibly incur private school costs, or whether we will move to an area that has great public schools. I think for now, we've decided to not decide until next year. Look how grown-up we are. Deciders of things. Deciders of deciding.<br />
<br />
I will try to write more. I miss this little space. When I was younger, I kept a diary. From 4th grade through 12th grade. No joke. I've always liked to make notes of what's happening so that I don't forget.<br />
<br />
I will try to not forget to write.<br />
tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-81247699565926847222012-10-25T15:32:00.001-07:002012-10-25T15:32:26.267-07:00Autonomous sensory meridian response. You want it. <span class="Apple-style-span">Autonomous sensory meridian response. Asmr. Remember my snatation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">post? You know? How I sneeze when I get too full? Well maybe my odd physical reaction to sneezing is related to my asmr, but at least with asmr, it is something I enjoy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span">Now if you haven't googled it already, (and once you do you will think I must be completely insane) asmr is basically characterized by a pleasurable tingling sensation that occurs in the brain and continues on through the scalp, often traveling down the arms. This physical response usually occurs in response to external stimuli that is NOT from touch. I repeat. Not from touch. How can a scalp tingle without being actually touched? Well I don't know. I'm not a scientist. But I do know it is a real thing and that I've had this reaction to certain noises since I was a child. I also know my mom and sister have similar physical reactions to other noises. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span">From the time I can remember, I've always been really sensitive to both noises and smells. My biggest pet peeves? People obnoxiously chewing gum and eating too loudly, especially "wet" foods, like bananas or ice cream (you know who you are). But on the other end of the spectrum, I am grossly attracted to other sounds. Since I was vey young, the sound of magazine pages turning would almost cripple me...in a good way. I would be sitting in school and would hear someone turning the thick pages of a textboook and I would literally be mesmerized. Entranced. If I happened to be writing somthing, I would be unable to keep a grip on my pencil. My fingers would go all tickly, for lack of a better word. My head felt all full. It was amazing. The feeling did not last too long, maybe five minutes, but it just felt so nice! I would often seek out people who were reading magazines or thick books, just to hear this noise. I noticed that some other things made me feel this feeling. Watching people get their hair brushed. Seeing and listening to people organize stuff that had hard containers like makeup bags, pencil boxes or junk drawers. You wonder why Bob Ross was so popular? Yea. That's right. It ain't the happy trees and clouds. His voice can actually send people into this braingasmic state. Even someone flipping through a card catalogue would work for me. If you don't know who Bob Ross is (and no, you don't know who Bob Ross is because you saw some ironic t-shirt with his face on it) or what a card catalogue is, then you are too young and I hate you. Go bring me a latte or something.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>
I know my mom reacts similarly to the sound of gum being chewed and popped, which is a sound I cannot stand. My sister reacts to crunchy noises, like the sound of tires driving over gravel. My amazing sloshy-banana chewing and ice cream slurping husband once made me a cd of him just turning magazine pages over and over. Although I can't listen to this while driving (totally serious) I would play it on repeat over and over at work. As a bonus to the tingles, I always sound super productive. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">After some looks from coworkers, I did a little googling and to my surprise, found asmr information. I was amazed that my experience was shared by many others. Although it has always been weird, I was neve bothered because it feels so nice. It is not sexual. It is not erotic. It is just a feeling in my brain and scalp that is very pleasant. </span><br />
<br />
I wonder if anyone else I know experiences this...anyone that I'm not related to, that is.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-19775470850697948122012-09-17T07:44:00.000-07:002012-09-17T07:44:19.928-07:00My cousin could kick your a$$, part two.So back like, forever ago, I <a href="http://antiquoddities.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-cousin-could-kick-your-ass.html">wrote </a>about my cousin Samantha and her ass-kicking abilities. Well, her super powers have only multiplied. Since my last post, featuring Sammy throwing herself off a painting scaffold, Sammy has been to London, performing for the city prior to the Olympics. Her antics were so insane that she was featured on The Soup, Joel McHale's show on E! For your viewing pleasure, I present Samantha, the ass-kicking spider person. In London.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/M8AKao_2J60/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M8AKao_2J60&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M8AKao_2J60&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-4078085026126483512012-09-12T07:28:00.000-07:002012-09-12T07:28:06.529-07:00Heeeeeeere's Johnny!It's been quite a while since my last post. For all of you that have been waiting, <i>desperate </i>to read something from me, well here it is. Since my last post, some big things have happened. I celebrated my husband turning 30, I had a baby, I celebrated my older daughter turning two (the day after I had baby numero deux), and I turned 30. That is the last few months of my life, in a very brief nutshell. <br />
<br />
Now, anyone that has had a baby knows that life can get pretty hectic for a while. And by "while", of course I mean forever. But once the initial hormones come crashing back to normal and a routine gets underway, life moves forward. In our household, that means taking care of a toddler (when she's not at "school"), a newborn, the dog, cat and chickens, and still trying to take a shower everyday. I also try really hard to do the dishes, the laundry and to cook "<a href="http://www.livestrong.com/whole-foods-diet/">whole food</a>" meals. I've even started letting my cat outside during the day, the therapy cat without claws, with the hopes that he will crap in the dirt somewhere. Instead, I think he forages and eats animals or rodents or whatever and holds it in until he inevitably takes a big stinking poo the moment he returns inside. I might <a href="http://www.amazon.com/CitiKitty-Cat-Toilet-Training-Kit/dp/B000F1OS20/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347458668&sr=8-1&keywords=potty+train+cat">potty train my cat</a> while we're trying to potty train our two-year old. But that might be too ambitious. Even for someone as crazy as me.<br />
<br />
So as things return to normal here, I find myself looking to spice things up a bit. I mean, with the new baby sleeping like "insert random number here" hour stretches at night and the toddler telling me that her shoes, regardless of which pair I want her to wear, "don't fit" or that the shirt I want her to wear is "too hot, mommy", how could I not need more spice?? <br />
<br />
My husband and I are going to try to do a date night, at least once a month. I know that's not that abnormal, but we're going to try to do "surprise" date nights, where we each plan an activity/dinner/two-hour stretch of uninterrupted time together, on a bi-monthly basis. Since I'm bewbie-feeding my newborn, it is hard to get away for more than a few hours without needing to pump (which I don't particularly like doing) so our dates are going to be limited to about 2 hours or so. My husband did take me to the Fox Theater to see the Addams Family musical for my 30th birthday and that was a four-hour trip away from the baby (and she was only 2 weeks old at that point!) and we all survived, so I know it can be done. I already have some fun ideas for our dates! I can't post them here because my other half might actually read this post and then the surprise would be ruined.<br />
<br />
In addition to the date nights, Eugene and I were discussing some other ways to have fun. We often get together with a group of our awesome friends, most of whom have little kids, so going out usually is limited to rotating meals between houses. We have a lot of fun doing this and our daughter is usually exhausted after our gatherings. But I think I'm ready to take these get togethers to a new level. After watching a sci-fi show called "Face Off" I proudly declared that I could make costumes and do sculpting. I even proved it to Eugene by forcing him to remember that time I sculpted a meatloaf into a devil goat thing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVEj3ebqZR90-PanjhOhVLnBaEINhBspzJvge3mwTvFxl6k00h8JdHpXjJkHgXAUSZttapb6eSJYVIppGnFkWI9SsjI_iqKlAvw73XK1xUZt6fZgVicPghSEQs0X0GvjAg_lHVCBIf2M/s1600/DSCN0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVEj3ebqZR90-PanjhOhVLnBaEINhBspzJvge3mwTvFxl6k00h8JdHpXjJkHgXAUSZttapb6eSJYVIppGnFkWI9SsjI_iqKlAvw73XK1xUZt6fZgVicPghSEQs0X0GvjAg_lHVCBIf2M/s200/DSCN0497.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
So I think I will invite my friends over for the first annual Meatloaf Sculpt-Off. Then we can all eat the meatloafs. Or meatloaves. This event will happen and it will be fun. There will be meat-related prizes too. Look for the evite, friends. Look for it.<br />
<br />
This is the first of my ideas to "spice" things up. Get our creative juices flowing. I'm thinking there will be other fun things. Maybe as the weather cools, we can do pumpkin carving (a Pumpkin Carve-Off) and maybe backyard games (a Faux-Olympic Game-Off). Thoughts??<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-59506199933963580012012-04-30T15:09:00.000-07:002012-04-30T15:09:54.945-07:00Confusing baby.So my daughter looks a lot like her father. Like a lot. When she was first born, I couldn't even see any "me" in her at all. Now, the older she gets, the more she is taking on some of my traits. Despite the fact that she is beautiful, which obviously is my contribution, she still looks so much like her daddy. I've read <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/03/22/health/22real.html">studies </a>about how first born babies often look like their fathers, more than subsequent siblings, sort of as evolutionary insurance for dads: a "natural paternity test" if you will. Is this science fool-proof? No, of course not, but if you google this phenomenon, you will see that there might could be something to it.<br />
<br />
I myself look a lot like my father. I've always looked like his side of the family, but there have been more than a few occasions where I am struck by just how much I resemble my own father. My brother and sister have moments where they look more like my mom or my dad, but neither look so similar on a regular basis. Now to the point.<br />
<br />
Now, my daddy look-a-like daughter loves to look at family photos. LOVES to look at them. She points out the people she knows (MomMom, Mike, Step-eee, PopPop, Nanny, and so on). She knows pretty much everyone in our family and she loves to tell us. She loves looking at pictures so much that she will pick up my computer and bring it to me so that we can sit and look. It also works when I want a few minutes of sit-still time...my child will sit still and look at pictures for a very long time.<br />
<br />
So last week, we decided to look at pictures. She wanted to look at MomMom and PopPop in particular. So I went online to their respective facebook pages (yes, they both have facebook accounts) and started to go through their online albums. I ask my daughter "Who is this?" and she responds accurately. <br />
<br />
When I came to this picture of my father and said "And who is this?":<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6etBHf_f33O3cSaw3YfRCfuft4TUy4mn1JW-TUbUV3hn3sJ445U2NP17LRIItyB2k4VdWy6PqFlrTbZsNfQQnAkNT4hgibuscO8TusmZeV-HkVeHWBBT0k_OzWFpljQ-xUECZBkcbEnM/s1600/dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6etBHf_f33O3cSaw3YfRCfuft4TUy4mn1JW-TUbUV3hn3sJ445U2NP17LRIItyB2k4VdWy6PqFlrTbZsNfQQnAkNT4hgibuscO8TusmZeV-HkVeHWBBT0k_OzWFpljQ-xUECZBkcbEnM/s320/dad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
She responded "Mommy." I had to laugh and I said, "No. It's PopPop, just a younger PopPop." She got very upset and said "No PopPop. Mommy." How could I argue? It does look like me.<br />
<br />
<br />
So the immediate picture after this one in my dad's online album was this one:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBKMYN7V8SkvJSXskCbc5Lsi5jebDYekp-Rw4PqWk5SubnWM3Rx_xOYuZTdDf6sS3ozGOhuFl26Q8BaV4Bs4DESazaQwsQlEeMRaZczJtTBMeaNN_sLOAXOuu6SMmr9XNkoKyiNwEs9E/s1600/dad+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBKMYN7V8SkvJSXskCbc5Lsi5jebDYekp-Rw4PqWk5SubnWM3Rx_xOYuZTdDf6sS3ozGOhuFl26Q8BaV4Bs4DESazaQwsQlEeMRaZczJtTBMeaNN_sLOAXOuu6SMmr9XNkoKyiNwEs9E/s320/dad+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Same question, but my daughter instead said it was "Step-eee". This one looks more like my sister than any picture of me looks like my dad. In my opinion. And my daughter couldn't tell the difference. <br />
<br />
Love you guys. Here is a more recent picture of us three. And yes, we normally dress like this.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj082NflezmDmXGymYBYTM_JDwrjG-LGr2ZugJ5HE2txzI6oAWkCDu4z8zWVPqafvb4FRXqxI1iXoh3we4WV9EUBnoD5dggrY1YsXGEzC7pXRVskqekAze3kdYTS9ShB5hIZ1V9_CIO5I/s1600/us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj082NflezmDmXGymYBYTM_JDwrjG-LGr2ZugJ5HE2txzI6oAWkCDu4z8zWVPqafvb4FRXqxI1iXoh3we4WV9EUBnoD5dggrY1YsXGEzC7pXRVskqekAze3kdYTS9ShB5hIZ1V9_CIO5I/s320/us.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-73131112008506251602012-03-02T17:20:00.000-08:002012-03-02T17:20:22.606-08:00Calling home.So if anyone out there is watching the weather (while messing around on the computer), you will notice that there are tornado watches and severe thunderstorms and weathermen in a tizzy. My husband told me that I should call my parents to make sure they were watching the weather because some of the heaviest storms are headed their way.<br />
<br />
So I pick up the house phone (yes, we have a house phone. Don't be a hater. We get good long distance) and dialed my dad's cell. My mom picks up and says "Hello?" and I said "Hi, Mom?" And shes goes, "Yes?" so I go "Are you watching the weather?" And she says "No...why? Wait. Who is this?" And I say "Mom, it's Lauren?! Mom?" And then I look at the caller id on my phone and I realize I dialed the right number but the wrong area code. So I say, "Wait. Did I call the wrong mom?" And she says "Yes" and so I say, "Well, <i>someone's </i>mom, you probably need to watch the weather." And so <i>someone's </i>mom says "why? what's going on?" So I explain the tornado situation and she says, "well where are you?" and I say, "Decatur...where are you?" And she says "Snellville" and I say, "well the storms are coming your way too! Watch the weather channel!" So she laughs and says, "I will! Thanks!"<br />
<br />
And that is my story. I hope you enjoyed the back and forth recitation. Good night. Take cover.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-32578926619265794132012-02-10T06:14:00.000-08:002012-02-10T06:14:44.276-08:00Elise's Daycare...this will be funny...at least I think so.As most of you probably know, I am a working mom. I am fortunate in that my situation allows me to work, as a lawyer, part-time. Not only do I have an awesome and understanding boss, but I have an amazing husband who supports my decision and basically lets me do what I want. Most of the time. What I want is to be at home with my daughter part of the time. When Elise was born, I did not think I could leave her alone at all. Like not even for a minute. I actually took about 5 months completely off work (I did work from home when we had a big Appellate case) and returned to work one day a week for the next three. Since April 2011, I've worked 3 to 4 days a week (as my boss needs additional work) and it has worked out great! I get to spend two days at home with Elise and three earning the money to pay off my student loans! And having adult conversations. And eating lunch in peace. And generally feeling completely fulfilled by overall situation. <br />
<br />
So when I am at work, Elise goes to daycare. Again, we are very lucky that we did not have to engage ourselves in the battle to find decent care in Atlanta. I've heard from a lot of my other friends tell me how the battle is fought: fill out applications to multiple (and expensive!) in-town daycares; wait; wait some more; wait sometimes more than a YEAR; find out if there is an opening for your child; pay a lot of money for daycare if you're lucky enough to get in...and don't think about calling to see if you will be told what spot on the waiting list you occupy...you won't be told. So we got to avoid this whole process because Eugene's firm has its own daycare. It is called Bright Beginnings and it is right around the corner from Eugene's office. Aside from the fact that Eugene can take Elise to and from daycare on the days she goes, BB also has a part-time program (which a lot of Atlanta daycares do not) and we get a steeply discounted rate in comparison to market. So all in all, we are very fortunate and Elise loves going! She now comes home to tell me the names of the other kids in her class and gets excited to put on her coat in the mornings to go with daddy! So now for the funny part.<br />
<br />
As you might know, February is Black History Month. At BB, there is a lot of effort made to teach the kids, even the babies and toddlers, about special events. There are books read and activities done for what seems like all the "bank" holidays (Columbus Day, President's Day, Abe Lincoln's Birthday...). We get notes home from the teachers everyday, describing the activities of the day. On "normal" days, Elise makes food, plays <br />
with sand, goes outside, makes things with noodles, sings songs, etc. Well, for February, BB decided to celebrate Black History Month the other day. Our note home said,<br />
<br />
"Elise celebrate Black History Month today. We learned about Nathaniel Alexander who invented the folding chair. In appreciation of chairs, the children experienced life without chairs and ate lunch and snack on the floor."<br />
<br />
I literally lol'd. My first thought was "well, do the kids eat on folding chairs?" The answer is no. They do not. They eat on adorable little chairs that do not fold. I am pretty sure that chairs were around for a long time before Mr. Alexander came along. So yea. I get what BB was trying to do, but it was just so funny for me. My next thought was, "I am sure my 18 month old understood why they weren't eating on chairs." She barely understands that you can't stand on a chair. <br />
<br />
So yeah. That made me smile. I do love her "school" and love that they are teaching my daughter so much. But that note home was just too much! Ha!tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-44603462428252290642012-01-21T18:36:00.000-08:002012-01-21T18:36:25.282-08:00Oh body of mine.Do you know what it is like to sneeze and pee yourself at the same time? In a skirt? While in Wal-Mart? With your baby brother? I do. <br />
<br />
Although this happened to me during my last pregnancy, and near the end of my last pregnancy when urinary control is overruled by the fat baby sitting inside you and resting on your bladder, the unfortunate part of birthing a baby through your lady parts means that you will likely have bladder control issues. Maybe even forever. Now I have barely started into that "forever". I had my first baby a mere 18 months ago. But since that time, I can barely laugh without a little tinkle. I certainly cannot sneeze without one. <br />
<br />
"Well did you do <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kegel_exercise">kegles</a>?" Are you kidding? Recall that I had a natural waterbirth. If part of my "training" to handle that whole process didn't include kegles (and <a href="http://www.ivillage.com/perineal-massage-your-how-guide/6-n-145602">perineal massage</a>* and <a href="http://www.ivillage.com/perineal-massage-your-how-guide/6-n-145602">hypnoborthing</a>) then I might say that my midwife did not do a good job of further indoctrinating me into the joys of a drug free birth experience. Yes, I did kegles. Yes, I did them a lot. Did they help? I don't know. How much do other women pee themselves when they sneeze? Maybe I pee less. But I don't know. It is not something that women talk a lot about. I do know that I have to literally cross my legs to help keep myself dry. This awkwardness even happens when I don't even have to pee. You read that right. You can pee yourself even when you don't have to pee. <br />
<br />
Over time, I felt like I had established a better control over my bladder. Could one expect to have perfect control of all bodily functions "down there" right after birthing a baby? I certainly didn't. But I also didn't expect that it would take months and months and months to gain back the control that I'd exhibited before. And it's not like I was peeing buckets with every sneeze, but a trickle here and there is terribly annoying and uncomfortable. But now that I am pregnant again, it has begun again. And much earlier than before. I am only a mere 14 weeks and already this baby seems to hate living next to a full (or not so full) bladder. The baby wants to make sure that the only liquid inside is amniotic fluid. I don't blame baby. I know what it is like to have pee where you don't want it. <br />
<br />
<br />
*Note: I was unsuccessful with the perineal massage. As it appears I was also unsuccessful with Kegles.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-18477536261723848072012-01-09T17:32:00.000-08:002012-01-09T17:32:57.815-08:00Princess pony parties.This is my long-term plan for financial stability. You read it right. Princess pony parties. That's about all there is to say. I will have princess ponies available for parties. I will probably also have some other cute baby animals and various other activities that children love. I will provide this service for a reasonable fee, clean-up included (<i>if </i>I get a slice of the cake). So that is it. But Lauren? Do you have the experience and skills necessary to undertake such a business venture? Are you sure you are capable of wrangling cute baby animals into small cages for transport? Why, indeed I do.<br />
<br />
When I was 14 or 15, I got my first "real" job. I'd been riding horses since I was 9 or so. I rode for several years, competed a little, took a break, and started back again when I was in my teens. I stopped for a while then too, starting back in college and then playing for a semester on the UGA Club Polo team. I cannot play polo, in case you are wondering. But I digress. <br />
<br />
So when I was 14 or 15, I started working for this farm. This farm had a petting zoo that we would take on the road. We took all sorts of baby animals to birthday parties, county fairs, school fairs, and basically anywhere else that would pay. We also had pony rides, face painting and probably ring toss games or something like that. I did a little of it all. I was also damn good at face painting, if I do say so myself. I remember when my thorny rose vine arm band "tattoo" was the hit of the Lula Days county festival. I kid you not. People lined up in the tens to have me paint that shit on their arms. I made like $4 a painting, so I was basically rich. Yes, I was pretty awesome. <br />
<br />
When I was a little younger, I also helped my mom and a good family friend with her party business. Although it wasn't a regular "gig", I did get paid to help out sometimes. My mom was a clown named "Zippers." Yes, that is about as creepy as a clown named "<a href="http://www.prairieghosts.com/gacy.html">John Wayne Gacy</a>" but Zippers was, in fact, her clown name. Eww. Can you just picture a creepy clown with zippers all over its body...opening into the skin and having a zipper instead of a mouth? My mom was not that Zippers the clown. Ahh! I found <a href="http://www.buycostumes.com/Zipper-the-Clown-Adult-Costume/61584/ProductDetail.aspx?AID=10425830&PID=3646371">one</a>! And <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?um=1&hl=en&sa=N&fhp=1&biw=1201&bih=533&tbm=isch&tbnid=1hQTqQwHyvMCSM:&imgrefurl=http://www.kindofcreepy.com/2011/01/31/creepy-zipper-tongue/&docid=pAzZJ2INgp2cuM&imgurl=http://www.kindofcreepy.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/29357_1_468.jpe&w=468&h=338&ei=PpQLT62OOcLMtgfwpbitBQ&zoom=1">another</a>! Ok that last one wasn't a zipper clown but HOLY lord above. How gross???! Now I'm giving myself the creeps. <br />
<br />
So I would occasionally help out with this party business. I got to take tickets when little kids went to bounce on the jumpy thing, usher children into lines to meet the clowns and, you guessed correctly, paint some faces. And some arms. <br />
<br />
So I am clearly experienced enough to run my own princess party business. You'd hire me, right? (insert image of scary clown now.)tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-64809485118519979182012-01-04T10:09:00.000-08:002012-01-04T10:09:41.963-08:00Hear-Ye, Hear-YeSo it's been a while. Yeah yeah. I know. How have you survived without my unique perspective on things that I occasionally post on the internet? In any event, Thanksgiving has come and gone, as has Christmas and New Year's...and some other holidays that I don't celebrate. So for all of the holidays come and gone without a greeting from me, "Happy __(insert holiday of choice)___" and "I hope it was amazing!" There. I feel better. <br />
<br />
Now for some news. If you aren't my facebook friend or recipient of my family Christmas card, then you might not know. I am having a second baby. This baby is due July 21! The Bryant household (and the family members related thereto) is very excited for Elise to be a big sister. I cannot wait to share our house and our hearts with another perfect little baby. See what I did there? You now know that Elise is perfect. She even gets straight A's and is in <a href="http://www.mensa.org/">Mensa</a>. Ok. Both of those things are lies. But if Mensa took babies, I am sure she would be in. She says "meow" when she sees a cat! How genius is that??!! <br />
<br />
I would like to blame my pregnancy and extreme morning sickness to my lackluster blog attendance. This second go-round seems to be a lot harder than the first. I am more tired, more sick and generally more ugh. I am almost at 12 weeks now and hopefully that means things will get easier from here on out. At least until the baby decides to leave my body. Because that part will not be easy. I am again opting for the same midwife practice, <a href="http://www.intownmidwifery.com/">INTOWN MIDWIFERY</a>, and plan on doing a natural childbirth. It was an awesome experience to have Elise that way and if you want information, please please please contact me. I love talking about it. <br />
<br />
I do have a lot to talk about but this post will just drag on and on if I say everything now. So stay tuned. I promise to try to blog more regularly. tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-24941146069836424992011-11-03T19:52:00.000-07:002011-11-03T19:52:32.580-07:00Monitoring the ghosts.Last night I was home alone. Well, not "Home Alone" home alone. I had Elise here. I had my dog Lydia and her cousin Inky here. Zero Cat Hero was here. My mom was even here until about 10 p.m. I guess the only one that wasn't here was my husband. So I was allllll alone.<br />
<br />
It being only a few days after Halloween, I had a dvr full of spooky shows. Eugene hates ghosty shows so I have to record them for myself to watch alone. Which, in turn, forces me to sleep with the lights on, especially when I know Eugene is at a Guns and Roses concert, where Axl Rose will be a douche and not go on until 11 or 12 at night, which will mean Eugene won't get home to keep away the boogie man until at least 3am. Anyway, I started watching my recorded stuff, and when finished, I was sufficiently scared. I went to bed, turned on the boring news (hoping that I wouldn't see or hear about any masked-boogie-hook-demons.) I checked AND double-checked our video baby monitor, first to make sure that there were no violent spirits hovering over my precious baby and second to make sure the volume was turned up loud enough that I would hear her if a violent spirit started whispering to her in the middle of the night. My last conscious thoughts were "Man, if I were a Medium, I wonder how many dead people would be talking to me right now" and "Make sure you're all covered, Lauren, because it would suck to get slapped by a cold ghost on your uncovered skin." Then my very last thought was "Stop scaring yourself and think of happy things and go to sleep." So I did. <br />
<br />
Fast forward to 7am. Elise usually sleeps through the night now, but when I woke up to the sound of her muffled cries, I was wondering how I even heard her because she sounded so far away. My fingers stumbled on the nightstand looking for my glasses so I could look at the baby monitor and confirm whether I was actually hearing her or whether the cries I was hearing were those of "sadcat" who is the sad black cat that lives next door and cries ALL the time. Her cries were so muffled I was sure that if it was her, I was only hearing her through the walls and that the monitor was broken. Glasses secured to my face, I turned to where I always keep the baby monitor and IT WAS GONE! It was unplugged (I always keep it plugged in), it was not on the hook where I hang it and the cord was just dangling! A normal person might initially think, well it must have fallen. (Not me). Is it under the bed? (It wasn't). Maybe it fell and the dog picked it up and carried it away. (Nope). Perhaps I did not, in fact, check and double check it before I went to bed and maybe left it somewhere else? (Not a chance). Although I did get out of bed and start looking for the damned thing, literally, my first thought was "Oh my god. The ghosts in my house read my mind, knew I was thinking about them and decided to prove their existence to me!!! Shit! Now I am scared again!" <br />
<br />
After letting Elise whimper for a few minutes, I decided to forget about finding the monitor and save my baby from the unseen! The ghosts probably put it somewhere totally strange and I figured I would find it in the shower or nailed upside down over the fireplace or smashed to bits is the kitchen sink. The more I thought about it, the more freaked out I got. As I was leaving the room, and telling Eugene that it was only logical that the ghosts read my mind and decided to move the monitor, he rolled over and wouldn't you know, said "Found it."<br />
<br />
It was in the bed.<br />
<br />
I do not recall moving it to the bed.<br />
<br />
Maybe the narcotic pain medication I am still taking for my surgery/lingering pain made me do something unconsciously.<br />
<br />
Or maybe it really was the ghosts...tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-31929463041950155032011-10-27T12:17:00.000-07:002011-10-27T12:17:10.579-07:00An Ode to Wal-MartMy love picked out a birthday gift,<br />
For me to have, my heart would it lift.<br />
We went online<br />
and both spent some time<br />
and ordered what I wanted.<br />
<br />
A camera is what was my present,<br />
and what luck, it came with a pheasant.<br />
Ok, I lied, no pheasant included.<br />
But something else, for sure,<br />
I would not be deluded.<br />
<br />
Options, it said. You choose your bag.<br />
Here are four choices, please don't lag.<br />
Pick bag one or two or three or four,<br />
you need a place for your camera to store.<br />
<br />
So I chose bag one as it seemed nice.<br />
I made my decision, I didn't think twice.<br />
The camera arrived, and right on time too,<br />
but I waited and waited, <br />
the bag was in route.<br />
<br />
At least that is what UPS said,<br />
as did USPS, who'd taken the shipment instead.<br />
Then Wal-Mart claimed the order'd been lost,<br />
so they promised to send me a replacement, at cost.<br />
<br />
Overnight, it would come,<br />
to compensate for my time.<br />
No charge for this service, <br />
not even a dime.<br />
<br />
Again I waited, less patient than before.<br />
Every day I would look, <br />
would it come to my door?<br />
Another week went by, and no bag did arrive.<br />
I was mad; I was sad; then went into overdrive.<br />
<br />
Tried to talk to a human when I called Wal-Mart again,<br />
I was transferred so often, my head started to spin.<br />
I finally got a person and the answer I sought,<br />
A new bag would be sent, this time, <br />
so I thought...<br />
<br />
But a bag did arrive, not three days later.<br />
Almost two months had since passed,<br />
but I was not yet a hater.<br />
<br />
I opened the box, pulled the plastic apart,<br />
saw my camera bag nestled, oh bestill my heart.<br />
My camera I ran to, picked it up with great need.<br />
I wanted it home, in its bag, and with speed<br />
I unzippered the bag and wouldn't you know it?<br />
The damn bag was too small.<br />
I almost did vomit.<br />
<br />
Wal-Mart will not remedy their error.<br />
I warn you, fair shoppers, <br />
shop there with terror.<br />
I hate that damn place,<br />
avoid it, I will. <br />
<br />
To offer an item as a part of a bundle,<br />
one would think it would fit,<br />
would one not? Would one wonder?<br />
A good deal comes at a cost, I now know.<br />
I hate you damn Wal-Mart.<br />
Go suck a toe.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-73606807787480628722011-10-21T14:42:00.000-07:002011-10-21T14:42:17.899-07:00The Jersey Devil...<br />
So here is the story of the Jersey Devil, thanks to Wikipedia.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">The <b>Jersey Devil</b> is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legendary_creature" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Legendary creature">legendary creature</a> or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cryptid" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Cryptid">cryptid</a> said to inhabit the <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pine_Barrens" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Pine Barrens">Pine Barrens</a> of Southern <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Jersey" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="New Jersey">New Jersey</a>, United States. The creature is often described as a flying <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bipedal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Bipedal">biped</a> with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoof" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Hoof">hooves</a>, but there are many variations.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Most accounts of the Jersey Devil legend attribute the creature to a "Mother Leeds", a supposed <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witch" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Witch">witch</a>, although the tale has many variations. According to one version, she invoked the devil by saying "let it be the devil" while giving birth to her 13th child, and when the baby was born it was named Lucas, it either immediately or soon afterward transformed into a devil-like creature and flew off into the surrounding pines.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">During the week of January 16 through 23, 1909, hundreds of people reported encounters with the Jersey Devil.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">Newspapers of the time named it "Phenomenal Week" and the public reaction has been called the Devil's "most infamous spree."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">Reports initially concerned unidentified footprints in the snow, but soon sightings of creatures resembling the Jersey Devil were being reported throughout South Jersey and as far away as </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philadelphia" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Philadelphia">Philadelphia</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;"> and </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delaware" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Delaware">Delaware</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">The widespread newspaper coverage led to a panic throughout the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delaware_Valley" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Delaware Valley">Delaware Valley</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">prompting a number of schools to close and workers to stay home.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"> A</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">mong alleged encounters publicized that week were an attack on a trolley-car full of passengers in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haddon_Heights,_New_Jersey" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Haddon Heights, New Jersey">Haddon Heights</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;"> and an attack on a social club in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camden,_New_Jersey" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Camden, New Jersey">Camden</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;">Police in Camden and </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bristol,_Pennsylvania" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" title="Bristol, Pennsylvania">Bristol, Pennsylvania</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;"> supposedly fired on the creature to no effect.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.5em;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
And what does the Jersey Devil look like?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<center><b>It is about three feet and half high, with a head like a collie dog and</b></center><center></center><center><b>a face like a horse. It has a long neck, wings about two feet long, and</b></center><center></center><center><b>its back legs are like those of a crane, and it has horse's hooves.</b></center><center></center><center><b>It walks on its back legs and holds up two short front legs with paws</b></center><center></center><center><b>on them. </b></center><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em; text-align: justify;">
Since I've been laid up after my surgery, I've been indulging in some of my guilty pleasures. Namely Jerseylicious, The Real Housewives of New Jersey and The Jersey Shore. All of those crazy ladies got me to thinking about baked ziti the Jersey Devil. I think Snookie might be the Jersey Devil. So, in honor of Halloween and because I've already had a baked Italian dish this week, I wanted to pay tribute to New Jersey in my own way.</div>
<br />
I present to you:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>THE JERSEY DEVIL MEATLOAF.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iLSH2VcWMWCEH2Th4mBvnVY6DjfWneUyJZzOuTlb2SbI0pMmgEF3am6LuK2Sm46J-R1i82HEO5oS1noc4-d6IeH1NgGlemsoq6S_Uw_N2lsJfJydbd9mdlC9WTIfK1ADpgmFUqds0jc/s1600/DSCN0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iLSH2VcWMWCEH2Th4mBvnVY6DjfWneUyJZzOuTlb2SbI0pMmgEF3am6LuK2Sm46J-R1i82HEO5oS1noc4-d6IeH1NgGlemsoq6S_Uw_N2lsJfJydbd9mdlC9WTIfK1ADpgmFUqds0jc/s320/DSCN0497.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Mmmm. Evil meatloaf.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-27620814539301298162011-10-19T18:19:00.000-07:002011-10-19T18:19:55.051-07:00FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLYWARNING. THIS BLOG CONTAINS IMAGES THAT MIGHT BE OFFENSIVE TO SOME READERS. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. SERIOUSLY, YOU MIGHT THROW UP. POOP. NO, YOU WON'T THROW UP POOP. JUST THROW UP THROW UP.<br />
<br />
I am serious. If you have a weak disposition, or are sensitive to eewy things, do not read on. What you will see will give you nightmares. Or maybe just some weird dreams. <br />
<br />
And with those strenuous warnings, without further ado, scroll down to see my herniated disc.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVZorDtRCCyNFW13sYoHlKk_e1NmHpqllX3B2TngnRaRx05xk0dLUlWRAzaGAWS69A63bh6ibtUMlsiTBkYAd4VG4TXKPeJZoyYTow_s5H2CnfAcbYK3orp9wjKUUsFiR3xxij6w8Qow/s1600/herniated+disc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVZorDtRCCyNFW13sYoHlKk_e1NmHpqllX3B2TngnRaRx05xk0dLUlWRAzaGAWS69A63bh6ibtUMlsiTBkYAd4VG4TXKPeJZoyYTow_s5H2CnfAcbYK3orp9wjKUUsFiR3xxij6w8Qow/s320/herniated+disc.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harold the Hernia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
It is big. The spinal column, I've been told, is only about 1" in diameter. My hernia was bigger. Now it is bigger sitting on some table somewhere. The doctor wouldn't let me take Hernia Harold home. I planned to give him a home in a jar with googly eyes glued on. Maybe some hair too. Like a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teratoma">teratoma</a>. Although I couldn't bring him home, I sure am glad Hernia Harold has found a new place to live. All I can say is that he'd better not come back. Bitch ass.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-17604722150697838362011-10-17T18:28:00.000-07:002011-10-17T18:28:49.040-07:00Under the K-nife.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yXd7NdN1Uq4vOxHCcMXBz6LZsiQd8UTVNn5gTP4z9OAYs75Q47joZhGUWJHrn7KOYlFnEViPWCSaBEauCPe86ZshxBWzDXB-UsiNgFpN7oVI7NQXqmJjn3Qhi4DA_dzdqas_p23ySyo/s1600/surgery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yXd7NdN1Uq4vOxHCcMXBz6LZsiQd8UTVNn5gTP4z9OAYs75Q47joZhGUWJHrn7KOYlFnEViPWCSaBEauCPe86ZshxBWzDXB-UsiNgFpN7oVI7NQXqmJjn3Qhi4DA_dzdqas_p23ySyo/s640/surgery.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
So ladies and gentlemen. Tomorrow I go under the k-nife. In an attempt to alleviate my surgery fears, I decided to draw my vision of the surgery. I can only hope it goes so well. For your viewing pleasure, I present "Lauren's Surgery." I will post sometime after surgery. To let you know whether my vision came true.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-71469940080194063022011-10-11T15:11:00.000-07:002011-10-11T15:11:22.079-07:00One of those days...It has been one of those days. <br />
<br />
Today was my very first experience with a prescribed narcotic to prevent pain (well, second experience...my first was about 7 years ago when I got some drugs to take <i>after </i>the removal of my wisdom teeth). This time, the meds are for pain <i>before </i>surgery. I have to have surgery next week for a herniated disc and between now and then, I can't take the Advil that I've been reliant on for the last months. Something about the Advil being a blood thinner and how that's not good before you get cut by a knife. In any event, I've been taking hydrocodone for about 6 hours. And it feels fuzzy. I feel fuzzy. I hate taking drugs period and I thought I could handle the pain without any meds. I'm tough. I birthed a baby without drugs. What's a little herniated disc? IT IS WORSE than childbirth. By far. So I have found my limit. It is the herniated disc. And I need drugs. <br />
<br />
The pain and subsequent drugs made the day "one of those days". But wait, there's more...<br />
<br />
Before I went to work today I put on some black leggings. I wanted to wear my black leggings so I put them on. Nothing strange there, right? Well I wore the leggings on Sunday and I'd done some laundry since then, so when I pulled the leggings out of the closet, I just assumed they were the ones I'd worn and washed. So I get to work and I'm thinking, "Gee, these leggings seem pretty stretched out." The were all bunchy around my knees and butt. But after acknowledging the unusual stretchiness, I put it out of my mind. Until I went to pee. When I pulled down my leggings to use the toilet (don't think about that too much), I realized why the leggings were feeling odd. Turns out they were not my leggings but some black long underwear I'd bought for a ski trip two years ago. So yea. I was wearing long underwear instead of pants. And I'm a lawyer. In an office. Where I see people. Some of whom are clients. And that was before things got fuzzy from the drugs. <br />
<br />
It's just been one of those days.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-18629171210257226312011-10-03T19:26:00.000-07:002011-10-03T19:26:58.885-07:00My biggest fears.Some people have labeled me paranoid. Irrational. Bat-shit crazy. Since having a baby, my fears seem to have quadrupled or quadbillioned. Growing up, my biggest fear was being stabbed in the foot with a fork. Oh how things have changed. <br />
<br />
Now, don't get me wrong. I am still scared of being stabbed in the foot with any implement, be it a fork or a knife or even being attacked with a cheese grater. Until very recently, as in last year recently, I could not face a pedicure.I have since overcome my fear of pedicures, but I still have some odd fears. <br />
<br />
I have some perfectly rational fears, like being in a plane crash, or being buried alive or losing my child. I cannot bring myself to really go into the things I think about in regards to my child because anything I write would be too horrific to have to think about so I am going to just not write it. But I am more aware of my mortality and the mortality of those I love. And it scares the shit out of me.<br />
<br />
I am afraid of nuclear holocost and having to eat people. I am in the process of storing food and making a "go bag." What foods am I storing, you ask? Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix and rotini. Why these foods? Because I don't think things through and just buy things that are cheap and easy to make. But Lauren, what if you don't have eggs or clean water after said nuclear holocost? What then? I don't know. But I will have muffin mix.<br />
<br />
Now, the fear that inspired this blog post. Last week I was in Macy's with my sister. If you know us, you know that we are very, very tall. When we go out together, or when I go anywhere with my husband, or any member of his family or any member of my family, it is like the tall freakshow comes to town. We are all over 6', with the exception of my mother who is only 5'9 or so. We don't notice it when we are together in private but when we go out, invariably there are hushed wispers about the height of our group. When I go out alone, someone somewhere will comment about how tall I am. Sometimes it is a comment or a question to my face, like "Oh my goodness, you are so tall. Do you play basketball/volleyball?" or "Are you a model" or "Where on earth do you find pants?" While it is sometimes flattering, I go through times where I am terribly self-conscious about it. A lot of times, I hear someone whisper right behind me "Oh my gosh...did you see that girl? She is so tall!" I could have it waaaaay worse but each person has their own struggles. This is one of mine.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to Macy's. My sister an I were walking through the store and I just kept seeing tall women everywhere. EVERYWHERE. And believe me. I notice tall people. The store was just full of women even taller than me. Since I was with my tall sister, we were attracting attention but I just could not believe how many other tall women were out. So as we approached the jewelry counter, I saw these two tall women looking at the goods. They were both in heels and both were taller than me and my sister. I was about to ask my sister if I looked as freakishly tall as the two women I was staring at (I feel compelled to ask whomever I am with if I am as tall as whatever tall person I see) when they both turned around to talk to the clerk. The two women were two MEN. In drag. They still had facial hair. They weren't even trying. I have no problems or issues about guys who dress in drag, or transvestites or transgendered anyone. <br />
<br />
But I certainly am terrified of being confused as one. <br />
<br />
That is one of my biggest fears. So now you know.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-30136059356638535652011-08-27T18:53:00.000-07:002011-08-27T18:53:51.749-07:00They come in peach.What comes in peach?<br />
<br />
Sure, there are things you eat and drink. Pie. Cobbler. Tarts. Kool-Aid and FlavorAid. Jolly Ranchers. Tea.<br />
<br />
How about things you play with? Yup. Crayons. Paint. A picture of a peach.<br />
Cosmetics? You bet. <a href="http://www.colorandflavorshop.com/product.php?productid=511140">Lip Smackers</a>. A nice blast from the past, eh ladies? Blush. Lipstick.<br />
<br />
I expect to hear about peach-flavored things. I enjoy coloring with the peach crayon. I am not suprised when my lip gloss shines in a pleasant peach. Peaches are good. I could eat a peach for hours.<br />
<br />
But the other day, I was watching tv and a commercial aired. I thought, for sure, that it had to be a Saturday Night Live sketch. Seriously. But it was not. <br />
<br />
Guess what you can get in pretty, passionate peach? You might want to sit down for this exciting announcement. <br />
<br />
Depends. <br />
<br />
No. Not as in "it depends." Just Depends. Now in peach, for when you can't hold your bladder but still want to look good. I guess there was a demand for something other than "dress whites." <br />
<br />
Get your free sample <a href="http://www.depend.com/products/get-samples?WT.mc_id=DPG&WT.srch=1">here</a>. You're welcome. tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-5931915249453305662011-08-14T08:57:00.000-07:002011-08-14T08:57:07.999-07:00May refuse drink because of contrariness.So, based on some of my previous posts, one might gleam that I am more inclined to use natural remedies. I mean, I had a drug-free waterbirth with the aid of a midwife, I went to a "witchdoctor" when I was suffering from my second bout of thrush, I use a chiropractor (which I have yet to blog about), I drink all sorts of teas when I am sick, I chug honey when I've got a sore throat or a cold, I use vinegar to relieve sunburn, I wash my hair with baking soda (sometimes), etc. So yea. I tend towards the "alternative" when it comes to medicine and health. Needless to say, then, when it comes to my husband and child, I also prefer to use the least amount of intervention possible. Now, that is not to say that a nice dose of baby-Advil doesn't come in handy, or a trip to the pediatrician is never warranted. I just prefer to try the old-fashioned home remedies before rushing out to get a 'scrip. <br />
<br />
Before Elise was born, I went to a local market here called <a href="http://www.sevananda.coop/retailer/store_templates/shell_id_1.asp?storeID=C5G13S77A6GB8P0JT1P2Q4XBHR8BFXX2">Sevananda</a>. Sevananda has a nice medicinals section, so I went looking for diaper creme, soaps, baby products, etc. I came across what seemed to be a great buy: "<a href="http://www.hylands.com/products/kidskit.php">Hyland's Kids' Kit</a>" which is a selection of what is apparently the most <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferrum_Phosphoricum">useful homeopathic remedies</a> for most common childhood ailments. The kit contains 30x potencies of the following remedies: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aconite">Aconite</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arnica">Arnica</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atropa_belladonna">Belladonna</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chamomilla">Chamomilla</a>, Ferrum Phos, Hepar Sulph and a tube of something called "Bumps and Bruises." Now, I've used the Chamomilla and the Bumps and Bruises ointment with great success. I know how good Chammomile tea is when you're sick, so it basically works the same for Elise when she's running a low temp or when she is teething. In any event, this blog isn't so much about the healing powers of natural remedies as it is about the things I found HILARIOUS in the pamphlet that came along with the kit. Each remedy comes with a dose guide and a description of the ailments for which one can use the remedy. For your enjoyment, I present the following:<br />
<br />
<br />
Aconite: <br />
-fear of death/ says he/she is going to die. (I wonder if this works if the kid misbehaved and you have threatened death).<br />
<br />
-croupy cough which frightens (everyone). (No, it seriously says "(everyone)".)<br />
<br />
-frantic with pain.<br />
<br />
Arnica:<br />
-fears being touched, approached. (Maybe I should give this to my sister-in-law's chihuahua. That dog is afraid of everyone).<br />
<br />
-Complains bed is too hard. (Goldilocks needs this. That biotch is always complaining about something.)<br />
<br />
-Wants to go home/says there is nothing wrong. (What if the kid is at home...?)<br />
<br />
Belladonna:<br />
-thrashes about in bed. (This is not a sex thing...I don't think).<br />
<br />
-sunstroke with throbbing pulse.<br />
<br />
-throbbing pains made worse from jarring, as when someone bumps the bed. (that seems awfully specific.)<br />
<br />
Chamomilla:<br />
-likes violent motion. (Six Flags needs to hand this stuff out).<br />
<br />
-everything is too much to be endured. (I think you might need something stronger if this describes your issue).<br />
<br />
-thirsty but may refuse drink because of contrariness. (Ok, this is what caused me to write this blog entry. I mean, who uses the word "contrariness". I told Eugene that he was being contrary, like Mary Mary in that kids' rhyme, and he had no idea what I was talking about. Mind you, I didn't explain why I was singing around like Mother Goose, but still, he didn't know what it meant if he was refusing something "due to contrariness." I don't really know what this means. It sounds like most women I know.)<br />
<br />
Ferrum Phosphoricum:<br />
-Symptoms tend to be better from 4am to 6am. (Again with the specificity.)<br />
<br />
Hepar Sulph:<br />
-Chilly and sweaty with unpleasant odor due to sweat. (What sweat smells pleasant??)<br />
<br />
-snuffles frequently. (What is a snuffle?)<br />
<br />
-Cough worse from uncovering any body part. (just think about this).<br />
<br />
-juicy sounding croupy cough. (Mmmmm, juicy).<br />
<br />
-Sneezing with nose running clear that later ripens into thick, yellowish discharge. (What is it with the appetite-inducing descriptions?)<br />
<br />
and finally...Peevishness. (wtf?)<br />
<br />
So there you have it. Should you be able to figure out what the above means, like when your child is being peevish, well, feel free to tell me when I should administer the remedies to my child. <br />
<br />
<br />
-<br />
tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-5726394289199973842011-08-04T10:40:00.000-07:002011-08-04T10:40:57.375-07:00Pretending to be Justin Bieber. Don't lie. You know you want to.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYn_rtYTqQ1hWp-ewXq5CU4R2vh8ekbA5as1Q9rlL5AlTvQHySpgtU85goRh0pKkaTLnRM8RbQ3-OkP9rTmAiGvoExUGupe3kduNQhc8C5ozkmk8kpFxwv9Vm6o9T-uR0kbJQi4XEJbk/s1600/20110802171849170_Page_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know it's been a while since I posted last. I've been busy getting ready for my daughter's first birthday (where did the year go??!!??), preparing to host a baby shower for a good friend and just generally sweating in the Georgia summer heat. To spice things up, though, sometimes I decide to do silly things. I do these thinngs mostly because they make me laugh and I hope they will bring smiles to my intended victims. Let me explain what I've done recently.</div><br />
As some of you know, a post or two ago I tried to entice people with a giveaway. You winners already know who you are so I am not afraid of spoiling the prize. The little prizes I found were too good not to share with some close friends, so I took it upon myself to share them. What are these little gifts? If you were not a lucky recipient, then I will share with you. I bought a pack of JUSTIN BIEBER collectable stickers. Yes, you read that right. The Bieb. When I saw these stickers I laughed out loud, probably as much at the hilarity of the poses that the Bieb undertook as the fact that I knew that when I was a tween, I would have immediately purchased every pack of stickers if they were for Elijah Wood or Jonathan Brandis or Brad Renfro. Or Billy Corgan. I know. I can't explain the Billy Corgan obsession that I still have today. I've accepted it. As has my husband, to some extent. At least he loves the Smashing Pumpkins more than me, so he says.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I decided to make use of these stickers in the best way I could imagine. For the first, I stuck a sticker of the nubile and swooning Biebs to a plain piece of printer paper, addressed it to my husband at his office and in his lawyerly capacity, and I signed it "Love Justin Bieber." Then I mailed it. I waited anxiously to hear from him, as I knew I would. I was not disappointed. The very day after I mailed the letter he called me and said, "So, did you mail me a letter from Justin Bieber?" I was going to pretend it wasn't me but I couldn't contain my laughter and my joke was exposed. My next thought was to share the Bieber love with some of my friends. At work, of course. The two letters you see here are the letters I wrote. Enjoy. The names have been deleted to protect the innocent.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMz_ya22al-JR8F6LO2YNA3N6nnGlXyiyM8EwMB2mjkDI3cLD6SckBnlV3fhF_s4PGOx_pWSQDBbQJM9Z0pPz1c9yJ71ucsaL0m76_RJ-tmXdk5a0yJD4T8yclEucj2W4uZZnQMynxGWg/s1600/20110802171849170_Page_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMz_ya22al-JR8F6LO2YNA3N6nnGlXyiyM8EwMB2mjkDI3cLD6SckBnlV3fhF_s4PGOx_pWSQDBbQJM9Z0pPz1c9yJ71ucsaL0m76_RJ-tmXdk5a0yJD4T8yclEucj2W4uZZnQMynxGWg/s1600/20110802171849170_Page_2.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYn_rtYTqQ1hWp-ewXq5CU4R2vh8ekbA5as1Q9rlL5AlTvQHySpgtU85goRh0pKkaTLnRM8RbQ3-OkP9rTmAiGvoExUGupe3kduNQhc8C5ozkmk8kpFxwv9Vm6o9T-uR0kbJQi4XEJbk/s1600/20110802171849170_Page_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXYn_rtYTqQ1hWp-ewXq5CU4R2vh8ekbA5as1Q9rlL5AlTvQHySpgtU85goRh0pKkaTLnRM8RbQ3-OkP9rTmAiGvoExUGupe3kduNQhc8C5ozkmk8kpFxwv9Vm6o9T-uR0kbJQi4XEJbk/s1600/20110802171849170_Page_1.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div><br />
So there you go. That is what I do with my spare time. Needless to say, I waited anxiously to hear from my <strike>victims</strike> friends, but days passed with nothing. NOTHING. I didn't know what happened? Did they not get the letters? Did a secretary think they were not funny and trash them? Did my friends know it was me and were they making me sweat?<br />
<br />
The answer, I believe, is the latter. Somehow, I was figured out but they wanted to keep me in the dark. You see, the one letter has a footnote and the other letter does not. The sans footnote victim ALWAYS footnotes his Christmas card so I intentionally footnoted the other letter so its recipient would assume it was the other. My plan worked and initially, I was not blamed. But then, according to the footnote fiend, my stamp gave me away. Darn the postmaster. But still my friends did not approach me about it, or even make mention of receipt of their letters. What was wrong??<br />
<br />
Turns out, I was to be a victim myself. I received a letter and will post it in my next installment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-12452153365429851892011-07-06T19:03:00.000-07:002011-07-06T19:03:18.135-07:00Dorito the Prince Pony.This is a post about the weird things I used to pretend. I know all kids are full of pretending but I wonder if most were as weird or morbid as me. Please let me know where you and I compare on the weirdness scale. <br />
<br />
I used to pretend I was a horse. Now wait. Not just "a horse." There were at least three variations. First, in third grade, I was "Dorito the prince pony." I was the fastest girl in my class so I was automatically the one the other kids got to chase. Being that all the other kids were my female friends, they wanted to chase a boy but since no boys wanted to play girl games, I got to be the "boy" that they would chase. So I became "Dorito." Why? One of the girls really liked Doritos. So I pretended to be "Dorito" and I was a prince in disguise as a lonely little pony. I was lonely because people didn't like me and didn't know I was a prince. So they chased me. When I got older, like fourth grade, I still wanted to pretend to be a horse so instead of maintaining my "Dorito" moniker, I switched to akwardly galloping everywhere and slapping my hands on my thighs making a gallop noise. Come to think of it, I did this before I became Dorito. I did it after I left Dorito behind. God I was akward. AND THEN, after I stopped pretending to be Dorito and after I stopped galloping around like an idiot, I would pretend that this winged horse would run alongside any car I happened to be riding in. This winged horse would jump over the debris in the shoulder of the road and would occasionally fly over low-hanging tree branches. My pretending only gets worse.<br />
<br />
I used to pretend I was a werewolf. Seriously. I am Italian therefore I have nice thick, dark and bushy eyebrows. I was a blond when I was little...I mean really toeheaded. Do you remember that episode of Full House when Joey got called <a href="http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-toe-head.htm">toeheaded</a> and he thought it was an insult saying he looked like a toe? Or how about that <a href="http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080520121631AAivF4o">Family Guy</a> where Peter says Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a foot? Well she does but it is not related to my story at all. Just related to foot-looking commentary. And I digress. <br />
<br />
So anyway, being a blond and having really dark bushy eyebrows that grew together in the middle made for a really beautiful 10 year old. I didn't mention that my eyebrows grew together? Well they did and they do (or rather they would if I didn't get them threaded EVERY three weeks and pluck them EVERY day in between. No joke). So anyway, for some reason, I was trying to come up with an excuse for my eyebrows and I thought "werewolf" made sense. So I pretended at recess that I could attack people and make them werewolves and I would tell kids to be careful becuase they wouldn't know when the werewolf would take over my body and attack. <br />
<br />
Similarly, I pretended I was a vampire. This was way before all the Twilight craziness. But just about the time Bradd Pitt and Tom Cruise made vampires look delicious. So I wanted to be a vampire. Is that so horrible? I think I even bit some people. But only when I was provoked, of course.<br />
<br />
I also used to pretend to be a dead German girl. I know. I said it got worse. When I was little, I took German lessons for several years. This meant that I had a rudimentary grasp of the German language when I was in elementary school which was more than any of my classmates. I also had a Dirndl, which is a traditional German dress. Well, I would put my Dirndl on and tell people (mostly this girl I didn't like) that I had died in World War II and returned as a ghost. Then I would sing a song in German and maybe throw the German alphabet in for good measure and threaten to linger and do gastly and ghostly things.<br />
<br />
I think that is enough about me and my weirdness. For now.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-53672595277650527092011-07-05T17:41:00.000-07:002011-07-05T17:41:52.358-07:00A giveaway??!!Am I so popular that I can afford to do a giveaway? Do I have sponsers that wish to bestow some goodies on a few loyal followers? Am I just awesome? The answer to at least one of those questions is a resounding YES! I can't tell you which one, of course. But it is the last one.<br />
<br />
So I do have something(s) I found recently and knew, just KNEW, that people would like to see arrive in their mailboxes. I cannot tell you what these things are, only that they made me smile when I saw them and really wanted to pass the goodness on. So without further ado, I would like to explain how I will choose which lucky people will get what I'm giving.<br />
<br />
I have three things I want to give away. That means three people have to comment on this post! That's it! That is the key to open the door to your potential giveaway success! You can post a song lyric, a joke, a Chinese proverb...I don't care! Simply post something (preferably witty) and I will pick the three best posts (best is highly subjective so be prepared to feel slighted, annoyed, cheated and miserable if you lose my gem of a prize!)<br />
<br />
Why the giveaway now? Well, I've had a lot of views but I only have 7 followers (thanks friends!) and I know more of you are reading my blog. It's ok. You can admit it. One day you will thank me for writing my diddies. I want to know who you all are. I mean, I think I know who most of you are. But for the random friends of friends, this means you too. Please. Make me feel special.<br />
<br />
The more people that comment, obviously, the less of a chance you have of being one of the chosen three. But that is ok. If I get a lot of posts, I might even go out and buy more of the things I am talking about and mail them away too! They are just too AWESOME not to share. tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-32639781713938138382011-06-29T06:50:00.000-07:002011-06-29T16:08:22.047-07:00My brother has a tv show.Yes. My brother and his buddies wrote, produced and acted in a show that got picked up by Dish Network. I am very proud of him. The show is called Cabbagetown and is on the SkyCity channel at Dish. It is a comedy sketch show and it will probably offend a lot of people, but I think it is pretty darn funny. If it helps anyone get over their offendedness (which is a word I think I just made up), the network that picked up the show is called SimplyMe and it is a minority programming network. So, without further ado, here is the link to my brother's television debut. If you are easily offended, don't watch it. Consider yourself warned. <a href="http://www.dishonline.com/shows/357214-sky_city_tv/videos/889857-cabbagetown">http://www.dishonline.com/shows/357214-sky_city_tv/videos/889857-cabbagetown</a>. <br />
<br />
Ok, not his "debut" as an actor, anyway. He has been in a <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1877694/">made-for-tv movie</a> or two as a paid extra. As have my mom and sister. My mom was in a scene in "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1055292/">Life as We know It</a>". She was in a scene that was supposed to be Texas or something but it was actually shot while my mom was walking down a street in Atlanta and they digitally added a Texas background. You can just see her curly hair glowing in the sun. You have to look close or you miss her! My sister was in "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/find?s=all&q=lottery+ticket">Lottery Ticket</a>" and something else...but I can't remember it right now. She has also been modeling with Elite/Factor models and has done spots for Intimacy, Macy's and was on tv and in the AJC recently. I have a very talented family!!<br />
<br />
Update: Apparently my sister is also featured on a recent mailer for Intimacy! If you get notices from them, look for my sister!!tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-30980038860311417182011-06-21T08:22:00.000-07:002011-06-21T08:22:10.795-07:00That didn't end like I thought it would.So let me relay this little diddie from the point of view of the person who told it to me; said person to remain nameless for purposes of a<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">nonymity</span>. Which is, I guess, the reason most people choose to remain nameless. In any event, this story was too good to not tell everyone on the internet. I shall now proceed with the story:<br />
<br />
"So when I was about 6 or 7, riding the school bus home on day, I had a jolly rancher." <br />
<br />
Now, I know you're thinking this is a story about a sick school bus driver. I know it. It DOES sound like that is where this story is going. But you are wrong. Read on, dear reader.<br />
<br />
"And I was so happy that I had this jolly rancher. I was just sitting there admiring it, twirling the wrapper between my fingers, listening to the plastic ends of the wrapper crunch between my fingers and watching the late-afternoon sunlight pour through the colorful square candy like a sun-catcher." <br />
<br />
Ok, so the story teller did not go into such great detail describing the jolly rancher, but you can totally get the picture now, right?<br />
<br />
"Then this girl in the seat in front of me turned around, her eyes menacing and her tone unquestionably accusatory, 'You stole my jolly rancher. Give it back.' Then this beast of a girl swooped down like some kind of prehistoric <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Pterodactyl</span>, her talons snatching my prized candy from betwixt my fingers."<br />
<br />
I've never used the word "betwixt." Just go with it.<br />
<br />
"From that day on, I hated that girl."<br />
<br />
Now to present day.<br />
<br />
"So the other day I get this email about checking the sex offender registry before buying a home. So I says to me-self, 'Self, this might be fun. Let's see what kind of sex-offenders live near the home I purchased before I checked the sex-offender registry and what kind of dangers might lurk near my home.'"<br />
<br />
Smart. Note to readers. Check the sex offender registry BEFORE you buy a home.<br />
<br />
"I was suprised to see that there were some sex offenders living in my vicinity, but then I thought what could be more fun that seeing what sex offenders live near me and my family? Checking to see whether anyone in my hometown was a sex offender!! That would be more fun!"<br />
<br />
"So I typed in my hometown zip code and realized that not only is my hometown full of sex offenders, but who do you think made the list? The jolly rancher stealing beast of a girl. Is it bad that that made me happy?"<br />
<br />
This story made me happy. What goes around obviously comes around. tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6666061744764029201.post-21273987855078565022011-06-13T08:43:00.000-07:002011-10-12T17:27:04.934-07:00Scrabiolies.Do you ever just make words up? Maybe call something by another name just because it sounds better/funnier/more disgusting? I seem to do it all the time. I also come up with nicknames for people because it makes me smile. For instance:<br />
<br />
1. Ravioli-I call Scrabioli. Why? Because it sounds kind of gross and it always makes me smile.<br />
2. Squish-Squidgey.<br />
3. Baby-bubbie.<br />
4. Mosquito-Moss-Squee-Toe.<br />
5. I am sure there are more but right now my brain doesn't remember.<br />
<br />
10-12-11: Now I remember more:<br />
6. Shrimp-Skrimps.<br />
7. Macaroni-Smackaroni.<br />
<br />
<br />
Some of the names I call my favorite people?<br />
<br />
Eugene-My husband is lucky enough to have several nicknames, but the one I use the most is G-Doody. His middle name is Dudley, if that helps this make sense.<br />
<br />
Michael-This is my brother and probably the first person I ever nicknamed. More than likely, I just couldn't say his name right, but I called him Mikemel. I don't do this anymore. At least not often. <br />
<br />
Stephanie-This is my sister but since I can remember, I've called her Neffertiti. Similar sound but somehow I like it more.<br />
<br />
Scott-My friend from college. I call him Scooty Pants.<br />
<br />
Philip-So this is a wierd one. I call him Felip Navidad. <br />
<br />
On that same note, when we decided to name Elise, I was so afraid that I would call her "Felise Navidad." I was actually afraid of the nickname I might subconsciously give my own child. Talk about wierd. <br />
<br />
There are lots more, I'm sure. I do it all the time. I have nicknames for old college friends (My friend Emily, I called Chutney because her last name sounded like this delicious spread; my friend Kimberly I called Fraulein (and then Frau after she got married) because we were both in German class together) and I'm even calling my friend's unborn baby girl Breedra because my friend is Tedra and her name was a combination of the names of her parents. Tedra's husband is Brett, so Breedra is a combination of the two ( I also suggested Terrett, but this didn't stick). My other friends have also started calling the baby Breedra, so this makes it even funnier. At least to me. I make these names out of love and it is usually only my favorite people that get such names.<br />
<br />
<br />
On that same note, everyone does this-you think a song says one thing, but it actually says another? I am probably the worst person to remember lyrics. Hell, I even forget the words to my favorite songs. ALL THE TIME. But, making up words? These are the two I really remember.<br />
<br />
1. "Look out any window" by Bruce Hornsby. I thought it said "Look out Eddie Winslow." This was when Family Matters was really popular. <br />
<br />
2. "Trouble in the sewers" is what I thought Billy Joel said in "We didn't start the fire" when he actually says "Trouble in the Suez." Again, tv probably influenced me because Ninja Turtles were fighting all sorts of trouble in the sewers.tallgalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12235708428926241858noreply@blogger.com1