Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Why are men so annoying? No seriously. I'm asking.

What or who taught them that women like to be ordered around? Now I'm not talking about really ordering around like mean or anything, but the kind of ordering around like "Let's watch a movie"... let me pretend that you aren't 25 minutes into Glee, let me act like you actually want to watch the movie I'm referring to, let me think that by acting all macho and decisive that will make you swoon and say, "oh okay, sure."

You know what?? No. I don't want to watch your stupid movie. I don't want to stop everything I'm doing (AKA watching some stupid show about gay people singing gay songs - his words not mine) because you are bored and think that I automatically want to do what YOU want to do more than what I want to do.

What?!?! WTF?!?!? Now you want to drink one of MY beers? Now you know that I don't drink dark beer and you decidedly bought dark beer for yourself, and bought for me (don't get the wrong idea here ladies... it was the joint bill account. it's not like HE bought it for ME). Anywho, like I was saying, he bought dark beer for him and bought for me my favorite tasty-licious Sweetwater Blue light bodied blueberry wheat beer. But now he wants to drink one of my beers? He's in the "mood" for one of my beers? Who's gay now?!?

And the answer is NO. You cannot have one of my beers. Drink your own.

Call me a raving lunatic. Call me a biotch. Say I'm being mean. I don't care. Just because you have a penis does not mean everything you want to do is a good idea.

Welcome to THIS century a-hole.


Ahhhh! That made me feel better.

P.S. You should check out Sweetwater Blue, really. It's yummy.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It's been awhile. Yeah, so what. I've been busy. Get over it.

I felt compelled to write this morning, because, well... it was just time. And of course my life is filled with fodder for this blog. There is no shortage of men who do the damnedest things.

So my mornings are crazy, like any working mother's. Well any mother's to be honest. Herding children around in the morning, especially if you aren't a morning person, can be a daunting task. Every morning I have to:

drag kids out of bed (neither like to get up - I've heard rumors of "morning children" before, but I don't have them),

fix breakfast (they can never eat the same thing - one likes cereal, the other prefers pure carbs),

get them dressed (this can take up to 30 minutes depending on the diva's mood - she NEVER I repeat NEVER wants to wear any of the 3 outfits I've picked out for her and laid out on the toybox),

get their teeth brushed (thank God for kid flavored/cartoon character toothpaste -this part they actually like),

get their hair combed ("I don't WANT to wear pee-tails mommy!" - this is her word for pig tails and a pony tail mixed together - and "Aww mom, why do I have to wet my hair, I don't care what it looks like!)

get their stuff together (books, purse, bracelet, homework, snack, random item that is due in class, whichever particular fluffy toy she wants to take in the car for the ride to daycare - I finally put my foot down on taking it INSIDE daycare)

kiss Dad goodbye(after being told at least 8 times, but he appreciates it... I think)

get the kids INTO the car (it sounds so simple doesn't it?)

buckle everyone in (again, sounds like it wouldn't be trouble)

run back in for MY stuff (right, I know what you're thinking, at this point you're thinking "why bother?" - sometimes I feel the same way, but my cell phone and my work computer are somewhat important to me)

get the kids to daycare (NO LATER than 7:35am so the school kid can catch the van to elementary school and the diva can have her second breakfast with her classmates - no I'm not kidding)

and get to work at a decent time (this is usually around 8:15am which to me is pretty darn good).


HIS duty is to pick them up. Which consists of:

picking them up from daycare, and

bringing them home.

Yeah, that's it. He usually arrives at home at the same time I do.

So finally, I put my foot down. After all of the blood, sweat, tears, spilled cereal, hair that I didn't have time to blow dry and screaming fits of rage (inwardly, because I AM a good mom after all), I insisted he take morning duty at least once a week. We decided on Wednesdays, because generally he can play a round of golf with a friend on Wednesdays and I agreed to pick the kids up on the day he drops them off. That way he doesn't have to rush his game. (Yeah, I don't really care but it sounded thoughtful, right?)

The first Wednesday came and went. He had to be at work early, so he swapped days to Friday. Then on Friday he turned off the alarm clock (as in OFF not snooze) and we all jumped out of bed at 7am and started running around like crazy people. We were all late.

So this Wednesday was the first "real" test. The alarm clock went off at 6:30am (I usually have it set for 5:45). I jumped out of bed and got into the shower (trying to avoid any children or whining - from the husband and because I needed to wash my hair - oh the joy of actually having time to fully blow dry my hair). I proceed to shower and pick out clothes. Finally at 7am I nudge his foot.

"Ummmm if you want to catch the daycare van you might want to start moving" (I am too nice, I know). He peels himself out of bed and starts trudging around the house. Everything appears to be going smoothly.

I walk out to get my pants out of the dryer (this is my idea of an iron) and notice that both children are playing with their food, as in rubbing the icing from a honeybun on the seat cushion. Whatever. I keep moving.

Next I'm towel drying my hair when my son walks in. "Hey mom. I need a hair cut tonight." "Umm okay." "I'm tired of having to wet my hair." "Okay." ...... "Anything else?" "No." "Okay then you can go. Mommy's trying to get dressed." (forlorn look on his face, he drags his feet all the way out of the bathroom)

On to blow drying. Dad shows up with the little princess close behind. "Hey, she says her hiney hurts." "What?" "She says her hiney hurts." (pause for blank stare) "Okay. So....??" "I dunno I just thought I should tell you in case it's something serious." "Like what?" "Whatever I just thought I should tell you, so you could keep and eye on it." Oooookay.

Finally I hear them packing up. He's gotten them out of the door. He comes back in to grab his stuff (did I mention earlier he's called me neurotic because I come back inside so many times to get the stuff I forgot?). At this point I say, "Did you remember to pack a snack for the kid?" "Huh?" "Where is his book bag?" "I dunno." (sigh) "Were you going to let them say goodbye to me?" "You'll see them later."

He leaves at 7:35am on the dot. I secretly hope he missed the van to school.

Either way, i actually got to work at 8am and had time to get a cup of coffee, update facebook, and start this post while waiting for my computer to wake up. :o)

I was so happy, I had to share!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I Love Sugarland!

The band, not the location (yes there really is a Sugarland in Texas).

I've been a fan of Sugarland and Jennifer Nettles for more than 5 years now. Hell it could be even longer... I've lost track. I could say the reason I love Sugarland is because of the song writing (which is fabulous, and is part of it). I could say I love Sugarland because they are contemporary country, but do the odd classic country throw back song from time to time (again, it is part of it).

But the real reason I love Sugarland is because I can hit every note Jennifer Nettles can when I sing along with my iPod/car radio. And I love to sing. I'm not spectacular, but I'm not bad... and I have a great time. In fact, one of my newly discovered pastimes is karaoke singing.

Yeah, I know.

But I grew up performing on stage; dancing, twirling baton, public speaking... so in my old age (read: I'm not in high school/college anymore and I feel too ridiculous to go clubbing) karaoke has become my outlet. I can sing any Sugarland song you put on. I may not know all of the words to every single song they have, but I know most of them.

I sing Sugarland songs in the shower. On long road trips. Taking my kids to daycare. Dancing in the back yard on summer evenings. While I'm cleaning the house. Whatever. Wherever. I've even caught myself singing along to a tune stuck in my head while in a crowded elevator at my office building(out loud).

I also semi-stalk Jennifer Nettles. Not in person of course, but I read news articles in People, I watch shows that she appears on. I make a point to DVR the CMT Awards and the AMC Awards because most of the time Sugarland does performances.

Right, I think you've got the idea.

I was SO STOKED when I found out Sugarland was coming to my city in concert. I called a friend, talked her into going to the concert, fronted the money for the tickets. I can't wait!

(I bet you're starting to wonder what this has to do with men..... wait for it.....)

So I get home that day from work, unpack the crap from the day and play with the kids for a bit. Then the family sits down to dinner. About five minutes into it I tell my loving husband (that I've known since 2003) that I'm THRILLED to have purchased tickets to see Sugarland in concert.

And he says:


----- You should've seen the look on my face.

It really didn't help that my 7 year old son then says, "Dad, you know! ..." and starts singing "All I Wanna Do" to him. (all I wanna do ooo ooo ooo, ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo is love you ooo ooo!)

Well, maybe my son has a chance. At least I have one male around that pays attention to me. However, I'm willing to bet by about 13, he too will start to falter.


Tuesday, June 2, 2009

If you can't do anything right...

just get a woman to do it. Because in case you weren't aware, she's Superwoman. She knows where your socks are; she knows your mom's birthday; she knows where you are supposed to be right now. It doesn't even have to be your woman. Just any woman will do, usually. And in this case, apparently she can even solve your problems when you are in another country.

Why is it that at the very first sign of trouble, a man throws in the towel and calls a woman for help? It's just easier that way apparently. There is no "let me try to figure this out on my own" when it comes to men.

So here's my story.

I've been struggling with shipping some stuff out of the country for work for about a week, when finally... after hours of my life lost screaming to some ignorant person at FedEx that truly regrets answering the phone at that minute and calling everyone who has ever worked in customs for help... the packages arrive at their destination. Now all that is left is for an installation company to put our exhibit booth together. My work here is done! Yay!

A co-worker of mine (male) has one job. Look at it and make sure it's set up right - as in looks good. Nothing technical, God forbid. If it's not, tell the installation company people to fix it. It's their job. If it takes money, tell them the "put it on the account." Whatever. I'm heading home now, so my problems are finally over. Right?

Riiiiiight. This is a man we're talking about.

5:35pm (phone rings)
Him: So the boxes are here.

Me: Okay. (pause for effect) And??

Him: They are putting it together.

Me: (pausing again) Okay? Is something wrong?

Him: Nope. Just letting you know. I'll call you if anything goes wrong. Otherwise we're good to go. You shouldn't hear from me again. (this should've been a sign of foreshadowing)

Me: Okay, great. Thanks for letting me know.

Him: So we are missing a monitor mount.

Me: Alright tell the install company to find one or get one from the guys in AV.

Him: They can find one?

Me: Yes.

Him: Oh, wait. I think they found it in the box.

Me: Great! Okay then, well have a good night.

Me: (glancing at the phone. struggling to decide whether or not I should answer. It's work, i have to, right? ugh!) Hellooooo?

Him: I just wanted to let you know we got the monitors mounted and they are working on the network cabling now.

Me: Okay. Is something wrong?

Him: Well I haven't checked the Internet connection yet, but I don't think so.

Me: Sooooooo.... you know I'm in a totally different country right now? There's really not a whole lot left I can do. I think you've got it under control.

Him: Okay I just tested Google. It's working! Great! Okay. Just wanted to let you know! I think I'll go have dinner now.

Me: You do that.

Him #2 (another male co-worker that was there): Hey are we only supposed to have two monitors? There are four demo stations.

Me: What happened to the other monitors? Are the install guys still there?

Him #2: Ummm. I don't see anyone. Oh, wait there's a girl with a vacuum. Is that her?

Me: No. Only two of you actually give demonstrations. The other two are there to mingle and go to the conference. Two should work.

Him #2: But aren't all four supposed to be up? There are usually four monitors.

Me: Look I don't care what you guys do. Just use the two monitors, or find the install guy and have him put the other 2 up. There are four of you. You can figure it out!!

Him #2: Do you know where the monitor mounts are? Him #1 said they couldn't find one.

Me: (really?!?!??!) Um. No. (at this point I've just given up and plan to play dumb for the remainder of the call)

Him #2: Well only two of us can give presentations anyway so I guess that will work. (covers phone) Hey, two monitors okay with you? (muffled response) Oh yeah. He said it was okay.

Me: (exaggerated sigh) Okay you guys have a good night. Good Luck! (mumble under breath, I don't know how you guys have survived so long without a woman telling you what to do every waking moment...)

And before you even think this is the end of the madness.... imagine me fielding the same type of phone calls four days later when the show was packing up to leave. While I am on vacation. In New Orleans. On Bourbon Street. During dinner. For over an hour.

Yeah. Don't be jealous.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Drunk Anger Management

I don't know about you, but I LOVE a man who turns into an angry drunk. I mean, c'mon. We've all been there - done that. But when you're in the middle of an argument that is no where near rational conversation, don't you just wish there was a "Calgon Take Me Away" button?

Now I'll admit, at certain times of the month I totally start the most idiotic arguments. Something like this:

Me: Hey, where's my tea?

Him: What?

Me: My tea. Where is it?

Him: I don't know...

Me: You JUST saw me carrying around a tea, and I had to have put it down somewhere around here.

Him: Really, I don't know.

Me: Why don't you know? I mean, do you ever pay attention to what I do? You NEVER pay attention to me do you? DO YOU?!?!?

Him: Uhhh, what?

Me: Nothing! Just forget it. I'll find my own damn tea.

Okay so maybe drunk angry man is somewhat similar to raging hormonal PMS girl. But you know what? At least I HAVE A REASON, you drunk ass.

Men who turn into drunk assholes should know that it never ends well. Inevitably you will sober up and realize what an idiot you were.

First you have to apologize. Then you have to admit you were wrong. Then you have to ask for forgiveness. Then you have to earn back her "nice side" over the next four to eight days (we hold grudges). Then every time you get into a real argument over the next month or two, she'll bring up whatever shitty comment you made when you were drunk.

Trust me, dude. It's just not worth it. Next time, pass on the round of shots. Yes, even if they're free.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


Do you ever get the feeling that your man likes golf more than you? more than television? more than life itself? I got that feeling today, after I threatened his life, of course. Because I'm planning a get together for his birthday, house full of people, food, cake, etc.... and he calls two hours before the end of my (very hectic and crazy already) day. This is how it goes:

Him: Hey honey? I'm pulling "the birthday card." I need you to pick up the kids because I'm playing golf.

Me: Say what? Honey, c'mon now. I have to leave early as it is to pick up your cake and the food for tonight. You know, the food I'm buying and catering in, so you won't have to feel like the house is a mess... it will get cold.

Him: Well, leave earlier.

Me: I don't think you heard me. The. food. will. be. cold. Shrimp and grits are not tasty when they're rubbery and icy.

Him: You'll figure it out. It's my birthday. Thanks! Love you!

Me: Please don't be late.

Him: Click.