Skyping

(Oh my god, she posted twice in one day? What the hell is happening???? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE. I figured I should just post it all at once, otherwise it would depart my brain forever, never to return. And this shit is important, too.)


I had a Skype conference call with a client earlier today. Skype calls are awesome because you don't need to shower AND you don't need to wear pants!

Unfortunately, though, since I was having this call from my office at home, it looked like this much of the time:

No pants, though.....

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Pilates

I've been working out a lot lately; doing a lot of cardio. And I was thinking I should maybe mix things up a bit, and from what I've read it's important to "strengthen the core," as it were; and I don't mean kegels. (I don't just mean kegels, anyway. AAAAAAAAAAAAnd release).

So what's good core strengthening exercise? Yoga, right? And pilates? I guess. But I'm kind of afraid to take one of those classes because the chances of me doing something stupid and looking like a complete fool are pretty high. I mean, the chances of those things happening are pretty high on a regular day, but get me on a big pilates ball? In front of people? There's just no way that can turn out well for me.

So I've decided to do the next best thing and just draw me doing pilates.

Boom. Core strengthened.


(Apparently I already had a tag labeled "this one is kind of dumb." Who knew?)

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How you can tell it's hot here right now

Y'know..... other than the ... fact....  that.....  it's really hot here right now...

NORMAL CAT

HOT CAT

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Walking in the streets of my town

I've been doing a lot of walking lately. It's that funny kind of speed walking where it looks like you're repeatedly punching yourself in the face. I don't know exactly how fast I get, because I have yet to find an accurate and reliable pedometer (like that one that reported I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes and my average speed was 6 mph. Now, I'm no accountant or anything, but I'm pretty sure that math is wrong) but I can pretty much guess. Regardless of my actual speed, however, I'm still walking faster than anybody else I encounter on the sidewalks of this town.

There's nothing quite like walking faster than other people to make you really, really hate other people. Moreso. I've gathered a small list of the kinds of people I encounter on my daily struggles up and down the hills of Berkeley. What you're seeing is what I see, artistically reenacted.

People in love

Yeah, I don't care that you're two men holding hands and walking down the street; I'm sure you're very happy and whatever. I could give a shit that you stop to kiss each other and do a little bit of snuggling, I care that you made me break my fucking stride to go around your little street lovefest. MOVE!

"Nice" people

Excuse me, do I LOOK like I'm in the mood for a casual chat about my progress? Do you seriously think I'm going to stop what I'm doing to answer your fucking questions? NO. GO AWAY. And, really, this is just "look at the fat chick actually working out!!" voyeurism, anyway.

Clueless, selfish, fucking assholes

I shit you not, this happened to me just this morning. There are three of them and ONE of me. They're taking up the whole fucking sidewalk and does that donut bitch even move aside for me? NO, she just looks at me with that stupid fucking face (that I borrowed from reddit). Apparently she expects me to step into the gutter so as not to disrupt their casual stroll up the hill? HELL NO. So what did I do when I got up to them? Yeah, you guessed it, I fucking shoulder slammed her out of my way and continued on. Enjoy your donut, fattie! (MmMmmmm. Dooooooonuts.........)

This one is, no question, the worst

No explanation necessary.

This is the guy I like

He sees me, he steps aside to let me pass, we all go on our way. No chatter, no obliviousness. THANK YOU.

Although, this one is my favorite

Ahhhhh, nobody. Perfect.

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Out of, and into, the mouths of babes

I go into the kitchen a little bit ago, where the kids are having breakfast, and I say to the room "Here's the plan for today, guys. I want everybody dressed and out of the house for at least a few hours."

See, if it was up to them, they would sit around in their underwear watching TV all day and doing nothing. They need to at least see the light of day for a bit, get some vitamin D, etc. I'm not going to be responsible for creating cute little vampires, I'll tell you that much.

They don't like the idea of having to get dressed and leave the house, however, so Child 2 comes up to me with this sad, doe-eyed expression on his face and says "But I don't feel good." 

So I say "then put down the bacon."

And then he does this:

You can tell this kid is mine.

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Well, that explains things

I have a blue shirt that is totally ordinary in every way. There's absolutely nothing interesting about this shirt, except that it's blue and I wear it on occasion. Today I put it on to hang around the house, and I look down and notice that there's a circle-shaped stain right above where the shirt lands slightly above my right boob. I took notice with some mild interest, and I wondered how I got this perfect circle of a stain in that particular spot. The moment came and went.

It's actually a tank top and not a tube top, but I don't know how to draw tank tops.

Later on, hubs was BBQing (OMG he makes the. best. fajitas. I could have seriously eaten 40 of them) and I'm hanging out on the couch drinking the margarita he had made for me. (I was also watching a Star Trek TNG marathon and life at that time was absolute nirvana).

Pants are for pussies!

Hubs calls to me from outside, for some help, so I put down my drink to get up and go outside. On my way I notice that I had a fresh circle-shaped water stain on my shirt, just above my right boob and just above where the other stain was.

Things suddenly became clear.

Now I get it: apparently my right boob is a coaster.

Naturally.

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So what. I am a rock star. I've got my rock moves.

You guys remember the post I wrote over the weekend? The one where I talk about how I'm being blog stalked and how that has changed me? Well, I turned off comments for that post because I didn't want it to turn into a pity party (moreso) but of course that didn't stop you guys from getting your messages through to me. That was inevitable, I suppose.

I want to thank you all for being such awesome people. Thank you for your messages and your words of support. Thank you for bearing with me during that pity party, I probably should have left comments on so that I could just unabashedly indulge in it. You guys are the best, and your words mean more to me than my own words do. Okay, that sounded dumb and cheesy but I hope you know what I mean.

And you're right, of course: fuck the haters. I let them get me down in a moment of weakness and self indulgence, but the truth is that I'm better than they are. For one thing, I'm not afraid to actually speak to a person if I have something to say to them, I don't just creep behind the scenes and then talk shit in private. That's what pussies do, and I'm not a pussy. Not by a long shot, and I won't let them turn me into one.

So, thank you. Thanks to the cake lovers, and the Australians, and to anybody who has written to me while sitting in the dentist's chair: you guys make it all worthwhile, and you keep me going.

Here's how I'm feeling today:

FYI: I've been working out and I'm hoping I'll be able to draw my ass a little narrower in the future

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Another bane of my existence. I have two banes

Here's Bane #1

Here's Bane #2:

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I... am not smart

It's raining today. Raining pretty hard, actually. This morning I was at work, waiting for my client, who was late. She owns an art studio for kids, it's really cool, actually. Anyway, she was late, and I decided to dash out to grab some coffee while I waited; the coffee place is right across the street from her studio.

As I was headed out the door, I saw her pulling up, so I went into "hurry up" mode. I ran across the street, got my coffee, and then went back to cross the street again. But there were cars coming from both directions and I was impatient to get back. I stood there for about half a minute, yelling at cars inside my head, and getting totally soaked and annoyed.

It wasn't until I opened up her studio door and went inside that I realized why I had gotten so wet while waiting for cars to pass: I was holding my soaking wet umbrella under my arm.

But at least I remembered my coffee. And, in the end, that's what's important.

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Why do I constantly have Taylor Swift stuck in my head?

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Thinking about sheep

I have insomnia, have had it my whole life. As far back as middle school I was taking Benadryl every night, otherwise I would stay up until at least 3:00am, no matter how tired I was.

These days I take melatonin, because most other things will make me too sleepy the next day and if I'm going to be sleepy from drugs I might just as well be sleepy from not sleeping, I suppose. Okay, I'm not entirely sure that logic is sound, but whatever. Sometimes I take xanax. I'm kind of afraid of those prescription sleep things that make you get up and make bacon in your neighbor's house at 4:00am, so I've never tried them. Plus, I can't really take something that will absolutely definitely knock me out because the truth is I'm never really sure if a child is going to come in and need something at any point during the night. Then we might both find ourselves making bacon in the neighbor's house. Child 2 would love that.

Anyway, melatonin loses its effectiveness for me after a long period of taking it, so sometimes, even when I do take it, I still can't sleep. And that's when I lie there, trying to figure out how to occupy my mind so that I will doze off.

Sometimes I try to do math problems in my head, but the sad truth is that I've completely forgotten my multiplication tables so that's just more frustrating than anything else. Or I'll try to count in some strange way, but then I always end up forgetting where I was or what my next number is supposed to be, and that makes me frustrated.

And then, of course, I turn to the old standby: Counting sheep. But I get confused about the mechanics of the sheep counting. Are they supposed to be jumping over a fence? I'm pretty sure they are, but... can sheep even do that? CAN sheep jump over fences? So I get caught up in trying to make my sheep (who have names, and are rude to each other) jump over the fence and I forget all about trying to count them. I imagine their struggle, with their short little legs (I don't even know if they have short little legs, actually) and how their sheep friends would tease them for it.

Okay, so maybe I'm supposed to number them, like cattle or something, and count them that way?

Ultimately, my mind gets tired of these questions; after all, I'm trying to distract myself so that I can stop thinking about the days' events and go to sleep... and so I always... always... end up just... thinking about sheep. Lots of sheep, just standing there. I don't even try to count them. I just think about them.

For some reason that works.

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Stupid toe

My toe hurts. I must have kicked a chair or something, I don't actually remember, that kind of things happens to me all the time. I kick chairs. Chairs anger me. No, not really, I'm just klutzy and don't pay attention to, um, most things, so I end up kicking a lot of chairs and couches and desk legs. Well I guess I pissed off the wrong chair because my toe has been really hurting the last week or so. I can move it around okay, but it hurts when I walk on it (so don't walk on it, dummy).

Then earlier I was in the shower and I happen to look down at my feet and they look like this:

Is that toe supposed to be that far over to the left like that? I mean, I'm no doctor, but I'm fairly certain they're all supposed to line up with relative symmetry. At least that's what they're doing on the other foot.

I'm not going to a doctor or anything, fuck it, it's just a toe. But it makes me cranky. So I had hubs tape it to its neighbors. Out of pure spite. Just to piss it off. Now it looks like this:

Now we're both cranky.

Stupid toe.

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Child 2's true confessions

"My favorite thing that I like to do with cats is get really close up to their face and make really awkward noises."

"Show me," I say.

Oh. Huh. I see. That IS awkward.

"And I also like to move my head back and forth when I do it.... like this...."

Hubs said I should make an animated gif, but I don't know how.

"Hey, you should put that on your blog," he says. "Here's how you spell what I said: "H -H -H -N -N -N -N -N'."

Hey, cool. That's a great idea!!

This is what I assume this activity looks like:

This is one of those things that's really funny to me but doesn't translate well into blog form, isn't it?

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Dead mouse revisited

I discovered a dead rat in my house earlier today and as I forced hubs to deal with it, while I cowered in the corner, I was reminded of what happened the last time I found a dead rodent in my house: My most favorite post ever. I originally posted this in July 2011

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So, it was Friday night, late, and I was making my final rounds through the house, turning off lights and such, when I encountered 2 things in my TV room: 1. A dead mouse, and 2. A bowl of cheerios that had been spilled all over a chair. I took pictures of them both, assuming I had something for a "Things I Find In My House" post.... little did I know that fate had other things in store for this particular blog post. I would show them to you, but, nobody really needs to see a picture of a dead mouse, right? So you can imagine what it looked like. Plus, I have no doubt that you can also imagine what a spilled bowl of cheerios might look like.

I stood there for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do about this situation. Normally what I would do would be to call hubs and make him deal with the dead mouse, and then get one of the kids to come and clean up their mess on the chair. However, everybody was already in bed, hubs had the flu, and I figured I should just deal with it, myself. But what was I supposed to do?

Then it came to me! I'll take the bowl, where the cheerios used to be, and I'll use it as a scooping device, of sorts, and I'll take the dead mouse outside! Awesome! Oh, did I mention that it was Friday night? And that I was drunk? Yeah. That fact isn't necessarily important to the outcome of this story, but it should be pointed out, nonetheless.

So, I do the scooping thing, and I head into the backyard, and suddenly I'm being followed by about 5,000 (murderous) cats who are very interested in what I might be carrying in this bowl. Hey, what do you have there, human? Can I see? Can I just check it out? Just real quick like? And suddenly I have this sense of urgency, that I must get rid of this mouse as soon as I possibly can. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with it; I actually considered composting it, but that would have required a whole lot more effort than I was interested in at the moment, so, instead, I head to the back of our backyard, to the fence that separates our property from the neighbors, and.... observe.......

And then I went inside and went to bed.

fin

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Why I don't blog much anymore

This is what I look like much of the time

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Pokemon is destroying my confidence as a parent

I'm fucking cool; I'm a cool parent, I swear to god. First of all, I say things like "I'm fucking cool," which, right there solidifies my status as "cool parent." I'm extremely tech savvy, I'm up on the latest tech trends, I can figure out how to make things work without the help of my kids: I'M COOL, GODDAMMIT.

I've always been determined not to be one of those "lame" parents who doesn't understand the little neurotypical games that their neurotypical little boy plays with his neurotypical little friends. I play video games with him, even if I suck at it. I listen while he explains, in excruciating detail, how he beat Koopa by throwing that turtle just at the right time. I get it. I may not care, but at least I understand; I can speak his language. I'm. Fucking. Cool.

Enter Pokemon.

I don't know what it is about those stupid things that just makes my brain completely shut down. I didn't even understand what they were for a long time; I had to ask somebody on Twitter (everybody say thank you to GoodNghtIrene), and even now it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. They're pocket monsters, they have unique skills, they fight each other. When they talk, they only use words that are variations of their own names, for some reason. (I find that very annoying).

You collect them. You play a card game. You watch the TV show. You talk about them incessantly. These are all relatively simple things, right? I'm fucking smart; I should be able to understand this, but NO! I just don't get it.

Over the weekend Child 2 tried to teach me how to play, and I sat there at the kitchen table, trying very very hard to understand, but it was like he was speaking a different language. Hubs tried to help, too, but it just wasn't sinking in.

Eventually I just threw up my hands and said "NO! I'M NOT DOING THIS! I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS I CAN'T DO THIS!" while Child 2 is still insisting, "It's easy. I'll teach you." NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!

And then earlier today I'm in Target, and my mission is to purchase some new cards that got ruined yesterday during a game (OMG don't ask), and I'm staring at this display and... what? What am I supposed....? I don't underst-..... So, I call hubs (because Child 2 doesn't have a phone and I can't call him) and say "What am I getting?" and he starts rattling off my various options and I'm looking at this display and I am unable to make the connection between what I'm seeing and what he's saying. Dragon Exalted? I don't see any dragons. Which one is exalted? Where does it even say that? Which one of these packages should I be looking at? OH MY GOD I don't know what I'm doing.

What is that.... I don't even....

I'm not a cool mom, after all. I'm a lame mom.

Goddammit, I'm a fucking lame mom.

I HATE YOU, POKEMON!!

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Discovering the Bosley difference

There are these obnoxious commercials you sometimes see on late night TV (I saw them when I was watching Adult Swim) for this hair restoration procedure, which is really just a scam for men to shell out thousands and thousands of dollars because society dictates that you must look a certain way if you ever want to have sex with anybody... and they show these before and after pictures of these guys and they ask "which picture looks better?" Except in the before picture the guy is always sad, forlorn and bald, and in the second picture the guy is always happy go-lucky and with hair.  Observe:

Does Joe look better without hair....

or with hair....

Huh. I wonder what that Bosley "difference" is, exactly?

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An aspect of parenting I could happily live without

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A recipe for the perfect cup of coffee

Remember how bummed I was the other day when I kept the kids home and had to cancel my lunch with Danielle? Well, it actually worked out for the best, because we went out on Friday night, instead.

Heh heh. Yeah.

Saturday morning (afternoon. whatever.) I wake up to see that Danielle has posted this awesome "coffee recipe" to Facebook, which we all agreed needed to be turned into a blog post, complete with illustrations.

So, all the text in this post is taken directly from Danielle's Facebook update, and I drew the illustrations (I actually stole 2 of the faces from reddit. You can tell which are the ones I stole because they actually look like faces).

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I have discovered the recipe for the perfect cup of coffee. Because I love you all so much, I'm going to share. It requires some planning ahead. First, you have to go out to dinner with a friend. Say, Jillsmo, for example.

Then, you have to drink 3 gin & tonics

debate having the 4th for a little bit

cave to better judgment, and have the 4th. 

Take a cab home. 

Pass out mid-conversation with husband. 

Wake up at 3:30 a.m. with a headache that screams, "I TOLD YOU SO!"  Down 4 Advil with a half-gallon of water. 

Wake at 6:30 a.m. to pee. Rub temples to relieve pain of slightly duller headache. 

Wake again at 9:00 to small child literally prying open your eyelids. 

Trudge downstairs. Make pot of coffee. It really does not matter what kind at this point. 

Take first sip and realize that it crosses your lips tasting like the sweet nectar of the gods. 

Serves 1. You're welcome.

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