Tuesday, August 5, 2014

The Curse of the Lazy Eye

When I was a baby I had amblyopia.  Basically, one of my eyes was more awesome than the other one and my brain was like "whoa there, right eye, if you aren't going to be totally awesome, you need to GO." So right eye was like "srsly wtf im out" and now I'm half blind.  Also, just to be a total dick, right eye now veers off to the outside, like he's permanently trying to escape my face. 

As I've gotten older (gracefully as fuck, I might add), right eye has also decided to be slightly more closed than left eye, so I've got this half squint going on.  It really doesn't help with my acute case of RBF (Resting Bitch Face, it's a thing, look it up). On top of all this awesome, I was also graced with a crooked smile.  Basically, I'm like a cute Quasimodo.  Case in point:
 I try to find angles where it isn't so obvious.  Head sort of tilted to the side, forcing the right son-of-a-bitch to look as far inward as possible.  But come on.  I'm not fooling anyone because THIS
 is what I look like when I'm having a conversation with you.  I can't tell you how many people have asked "are you looking at me, or...?" Some people claim they don't notice.  They are liars.  Anyway, I just decided that from now on any time I'm faced with a camera I'm going to do this look:
For one, offending eyeball is completely covered and out of the equation.  Mouth is open, so crooked smile is obsolete.  Also, thumbs up adds massive Dork Points.  I am a Grand Master Dork, but I still enjoy earning extra street cred.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Outlander Review. Sort of.

About ten years ago I was asking around for good book recommendations and a friend mentioned Outlander.  "It's about this woman who touches a rock and goes back in time to Scotland and the main character is soooo hot!" I'm sorry.  Did you say "touches a rock and goes back in time?" No thanks. A few months later my mom mentioned this fabulous book she had read and that I absolutely had to read it.  I trusted her judgment, so I picked it up and quickly realized that it was the ridiculous book I had turned down months before. 

But here's the thing.  It wasn't ridiculous.  It was AMAZING.  I had never much been into sci-fi, but the way Diana Gabaldon writes about the supernatural makes you believe she's writing from experience.  You suddenly find yourself touching large boulders in the off chance that one takes you back to your own Highland warrior.  But it's more than sci-fi.  It's historical fiction so believable that you ponder how much trouble you'd get in if you moved all the copies at Barnes and Noble into the non-fiction section. And did I mention the adventure?  Throughout the entire 8 book series there's murder, witchcraft, piracy, battles, swordfights, the list goes on.  And don't even get me started on the romance.  Claire and Jamie's love is the kind every one of us hopes for... and the sex is good, too.

So you can kind of understand my complete SQUEE when it was announced that it would be made into a 16 part miniseries on Starz.  For years people had been trying to make this book into a movie and it just wasn't possible.  There is so much happening in this book that the movie would've been 18 hours long or just ridiculously bad.  A few weeks later we were introduced to the actors who would play Jamie and Claire:

Caitriona Balfe as Claire Randall
Sam Heughan as Jamie Fraser

I mean seriously, how hot are they?!

They are pretty much too hot for words.  I may be spontaneously pregnant from just looking at them. But wait, there's more!  Are you a Game of Thrones fan? Remember the Red Wedding? Well, Tobias Menzies, who plays Edmure Tully, is also in Outlander and plays not one but TWO rolls.  My heart.  My ovaries.
Tobias Menzies as Frank Randall and Black Jack Randall
Stop.  Because there's more.  Did I mention SEXY MEN IN KILTS ALL DAY?!
I can't even
Yup. Tons of 'em. And yes, that's Graham McTavish up front, who played Dwalin in The Hobbit.  He plays Dougal MacKenzie and is shudder-inducingly sexy.

So last night/early this morning America got to see the first episode and frankly, I can barely function today. Ron Moore of Battlestar Gallactica fame pretty much wins at life.  The scenery alone will bring viewers in, the rest will be brought in by flashes of Scottish man thigh.  But I guarantee that with each new episode fans will be drawn in by the story that unfolds.  I'm not going to blow it for those who haven't seen it because they're either waiting for the official premiere on August 9th or living under a rock, but rest assured Outlander fans- you will not be disappointed.  And for those who haven't read the book, don't worry!  While I always recommend reading the book first, it's absolutely not necessary.  Just make sure you tune into Starz August 9th.  Bring a napkin for your drool.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Hi.  It's me.  I know, it's been a while.  So first I'll apologize to you, my reader (hi mom!), and then I'll explain why.

Remember when you were in kindergarten and you'd make some super awesome macaroni artwork and you'd bring it home and your mom or dad would be like "oooooh sweetheart!  Look at this!  It's a MASTERPIECE!" and hang it on the fridge for 3 years?  I've come to believe that we're setting our kids up for failure that way.  Because now, as an adult, any time I'm really proud of something and I show it to other people I fully expect them to ooh and aah over it and tell me how awesome it is.  But they don't.  They read it (I think).  They say "LOL" or "haha"...  sometimes.  Maybe even every third blog post I'll get a share or retweet.  And then I start wondering why I even bother and I quit. 

But now I'm back.  Because in the grand scheme of things, I LIKE writing.  I enjoy sitting down and seeing my words on a page.  I have to remember that not everyone is going to like my writing.  And sometimes the people who actually DO like my writing just don't have the time to sit down and read it.  And that's okay.  I'm just going to write because I like to write and I'll share it because maybe that day someone will need a laugh or just to know that someone out there feels the same way they do.  Plus, sometimes I just need a little ego-stroking.  Don't judge.

***I'd also like to add that unless you want your kids to turn out like me, sad and dejected every time someone doesn't like a blog post, quit hanging every single doodle your kids color on your fridge.  Hang the REALLY good ones and let them know how amazed you are at their brilliance.  But if they bring home some half-assed work that you KNOW they just scribbled out to get it done so they could go to recess, say "oh, would you like to keep this?"  Chances are they don't care.  Throw it away.  Seriously.  I know it's hard.  But we all know it's nothing special- even your kid.  There are enough beast-mode egos on the planet already.  Do us all a favor.     

Friday, December 28, 2012

The Problem With America is Fake Sharting Dogs

Kids are easily amused.  That's a given.  Put a box in the middle of your living room and an adult will walk in and say "why's this fucking box in here?" A kid will walk in and say "WHOOOOOAAA!! A fort/castle/train/hideout/Batcave!  Awesome!!"  A knock-knock joke will make an adult roll their eyes; a kid will laugh for ten minutes and repeat it for days.  That's why when it comes to buying toys, I tend to stick to the basics and let them use their imaginations.  I always thought those baby dolls that peed were completely unnecessary (and a little disgusting).

A kid will change the diaper of a regular baby doll without their being any ACTUAL green goo in it.  Having a doll full of water and green slime baby food is just a bad idea.  So when a friend told me about a shitting dog toy, I was in disbelief.

Now, every kid wants a dog, but some parents are mean assholes who like to deprive their children of the joy of Man's Best Friend.  Like me.  I have white carpets.  So instead I'm more likely to buy my kid a stuffed dog toy to love and huggle (it's a word).  A few parents may even buy their kid a toy dog that barks or does flips for little plastic dog bones.  But what parent in their right mind gets their kid a dog that takes a dump on their living room floor?!

NO kid likes to clean up dog poop.  It's the one thing kids say they'll do to get you to agree to a pet, but then you end up muttering to yourself over a steaming pile at 3am with a paper towel in one hand and bottle of carpet cleaner in the other. 

But people are buying this game.  Why?  Because kids think poop is funny and parents will buy their kids ridiculous crap so they don't have to say no.  But I stand here now, fist upraised, saying NO! Do NOT buy your kids a fake sharting dog!  Don't encourage this ridiculousness!  If you're going to have a dog that takes a dump on your kid's bed, let it be a REAL one!  Go adopt a pet from a shelter, get real loves and huggles (seriously, it's a real word!), and let your children experience the humility of cleaning up feces.  It will make them a better human being.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

A Day In The Life

As I sat down to my morning bowl of breakfast skillet (it's delicious, yo), I had a sudden realization.  I would really like to enjoy my food without someone right up in my face.

For the past 6+ years I have had little people hanging off me all day, every day.  For those of you who don't have kids, imagine your boss coming home with you at the end of the day and continuing to demand things.  Oh, and you no longer get weekends.  Oh, and sometimes he cries in the night and crawls in bed with you.  I don't get breaks.  Like, ever.

My lunch hour consists of making meals for my two sons (I've already made my daughter's lunch that morning to send to school with her) who complain and cry over whatever it is I'm cooking, even if they ask for it.  Then they usually don't finish it (the 4 year old) or throw it on the floor (the 1 year old).  They refuse to eat anything I might find appetizing, so I have to make at least two different meals, although more often it's a different thing for each person. 

So anyway, I quickly make myself a meal and then right about then the boys finish up and want to go play, so I put my food down and clean them up and clear their plates while my food gets cold.  Then I yell "GO PLAY!" and procede to stuff my face as fast as possible because they can't be unsupervised for more than a few minutes before all hell breaks loose.  But I need not have worried, because they have seen my food and aren't going anywhere. 

"Bite?  Bite??" Despite being so full they couldn't even finish their food, they are suddenly ravenous for what they considered "icky" five minutes ago when I offered to make some for everyone.  "Bite?  BITE!!!" They are now sitting on my lap or jumping up and down next to me, demanding at least every other bite of my meal.  "BIIIIIIITE!" If I don't give in, a full tantrum will ensue and I just want to enjoy my damn food. "Mama, BITE!" I've now forgotten that this was MY meal and I'm enjoying feeding the "baby birds" the rest of my lunch.


Many of you are moms and are sitting here reading this thinking, "yeah?  So?  Quit complaining, that's what happens when you're a mom!"  This story wasn't for you.  I KNOW you know this scenario.  It was for the child-free people out there who may not understand.  Just creating a visual.  You may also be thinking, "well bitch, you wanted kids!  Deal with it!"  Don't get me wrong, I love being a mom and I love my kids.  But until you become a parent, you really have no concept of how much work it is.  It's the same as any job- you can read the job description, but until you've been working there for a while you can't be 100% sure what it's going to be like.  I am allowed to not like certain aspects of parenting (hello poopy diapers!) just like the person in retail doesn't enjoy dealing with mean customers or the IT guy doesn't like dealing with morons who don't know how to turn it off and then back on again.

Unfortunately, there are tons of other activities I can no longer do now that I have kids.  Some of them are obvious (no more sleeping in or swearing like a sailor), but some aren't.  Like going to the bathroom.  "You can't go to the bathroom??"  Of COURSE I can still go to the bathroom.  As long as I take less than 10 seconds and don't mind someone trying to peek in the crack between the seat and the bowl to see where the noise is coming from.  Forget taking a shit.  That's how houses get set on fire and CPS is called.

I didn't take this, but I feel for whoever did

We also have this great living room with a fireplace.  How awesome would it be to lay down a fake bearskin rug and drink champagne and eat strawberries and make love all night?  NOPE.  Not gonna happen.  Because chances are I'll roll over onto a Lego or my kids will stagger out of their bedroom to go potty and be scarred for life. 

Look at this gorgeous thing, looking all romantical-like!

I could go on, but I'll save you the rant and finish with this- the next time you take a bite of food, slow down to enjoy it for all the mothers out there.  I haven't tasted food in 6 years, let me know how it is.  Also, call your mom and thank her for putting up with you.  You were most likely a pain in the ass.

Monday, November 26, 2012

The Post Office, AKA The Tenth Circle of Hell

As a mother, there are many places I can no longer go on a regular basis: the bar, the strip club (because, you know, I went there all the time before kids), the movies and the post office. Something about this federal building of doom causes my normally cute children to become screaming, whining, tantruming terrors. As soon as we walk in, they bolt and start scaling the wall of locked post office boxes, ripping displays of priority mailers apart, and playing child versions of Japanese obstacle course game shows with people's legs and packages. Now, I have good kids. They're polite and loving and generally don't make childless people want to rip out their reproductive systems. But the second we walk into a damn post office they become these completely different people whose only goal is to make people look at me like I should be on Toddlers & Tiaras feeding my kids Mountain Dew and Pixie Stix smoothies. Is it the smell of mail and stamp glue? The disgruntled employees? The irresistible boxes with their endless playtime possibilities? Whatever the case, I now have the perfect idea for a career once my kids are grown- mobile post office. I'll do things the mail carrier won't, like sell stamps, weigh and accept packages and come straight to your door instead of sitting in the car honking like an asshole until you come out.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Smile For The Camera

My husband never smiles for pictures.  Most people see a camera coming at them and immediately put on their biggest, cheesiest smile.  Not my husband.  He immediately puts on his "I'm going to be completely emotionless" face.  I've noticed that many men do this and I'm wondering if it has some macho reasoning behind it.  Show no emotion, show no weakness.  Or something.  I just don't see the weakness in enjoying yourself.  For example, here's my husband at the museum with our baby:

This picture should say, "I'm at the museum with my family and having a great time!"  Instead it says "I'd rather be pretty much anywhere than this."  Which may or may not have been the actual case.

Another example, this time a little more exciting.  My husband had the opportunity to spend a month in Hawaii for a training exercise and got to enjoy the beach, Luaus and clubbing every night (while I stayed home with two kids, grossly pregnant in Alaska thankyouverymuch.  But that's a different blog post I'll never get to because it's not funny at all).  Here's the proof:
This picture should say, "Holy shit!  I'm on the beach in Hawaii, eat your fucking hearts out, losers!"  Instead it says "Hurry up and take the picture so we can go home."
And now, the latest.  My awesome cousin who's kind of a big deal recently came to Kansas for a NASCAR race and not only got the entire family tickets, but also got us garage and pit road passes.  My husband is a big NASCAR fan but has never been to a race... until this day:
Instead of saying, "OMFG I'm standing next to Junior's car!" it says "Mehhhh.... here's a car."  In reality he was jumping up and down and squealing like a little girl (for those of you that have the honor of knowing my husband, you'll know I'm exaggerating slightly) but as soon as I turned the camera on him, bam.  No emotion.
Perhaps you don't really see the big deal and need a little comparison of equal enthusiam portrayed two very different ways. 

Here's me on our last date.  We don't get dates very often.  Or ever.  So it's a big deal.  This is my reaction to being sans kids for the night.  I'm pretty friggin' excited.  And now here's my husband:

He's equally excited, and yet very different pictures.  Our kids are going to grow up and ask why Daddy was never happy.    Here's him at Disneyland, the happiest fucking place on Earth:
"I just killed a big-ass mouse, now where's the beers?"

Okay, so that's a badly photoshopped picture of him with a fake horseshoe mustache.  But seriously, that's probably what it would look like if we actually went there.  He looks like he's about to open fire on a crowd.
I really don't get it.  My husband actually has quite the charming smile.  Unfortunately none of you get to see it because he's a douche who wants to be remembered as a surly asshole.  Which is kind of true, but nonetheless I'd like for people to actually think he has a good time when we're out making memories and memorializing them photographically for all time.  You may hate every part of your existance, but if you smile for pictures people will look back and think "wow, the dude really enjoyed life!" and wow, look at the joke you just played on them!  You're so clever.  And all you had to do was smile.