Queer Eye

The Queer Eye for the Straight Guy – great show! Hubber can say what he wants to about it, but I know he loves it! The fab 5 making over the poor, tasteless straight guy – it’s genius, I tell ya! Why is it that gay guys are so hip and “with it?” When Hubber and I were dating, I made him stop wearing his coach’s shorts. Uhm… if you’re not a coach, on a high school football field, you have no business wearing those god awful things. Even coaches look hideous in them – but at least THEY are actual coaches, so it can be overlooked. But no man of mine is going to be struttin’ his stuff in those shorts. Nu-uh. No way Jose.
I'm playing hookie from work tomorrow. Hubber and I are going shopping - maybe this time we'll finish. I'm ready to quit buying stuff for other people and start buying stuff for myself! Ever since becoming an a adult (and a mother, to boot) I've been getting jipped (sp?) in the gift department, so I try to get myself a few nice things as compensation for other people's poor judgment. I've been good, too, damnit! Last year Hubber took me on a shopping spree. That was fun! But, now I'm skinnier than I was last year and all those shopping spree clothes are making me look ridiculously slobbish these days. The problem is - I plan to lose more weight over the next few months. So, should I shop now or wait it out until I'm closer to my goal weight? Ugh. Maybe a few things now, and a whole LOT of stuff later! I can't wait until I'm skinny!!

I would like to shop for all my co-workers on this site: www.despair.com. The MISTAKES sticky pad says, "It could be that the purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others." And the CLUELESS one says, "There are no stupid questions but there are a LOT of inquisitive idiots.” The sad part is that the clueless people won't GET it. Oh wait, here's another fave...the PROCRASTINATION one says, "Hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now." That's why I'm blogging at work.

There's something for everyone on this site!

I can spend days in bookstores with my nose in book after book after book! I love those places. Bookstores are where all my ideas surface - where all my plans to change parts of my life, to make resolutions come to pass. For a few brief hours, I'm lost in a world of culture, history, comedy and fiction. I love it! If I win the lotto, I think I'll buy a bookstore.

We went to Barnes & Noble last weekend. For the first few minutes, Hubber, J and I all browsed together. Then he followed her to the children's section. I promised to meet up with them shortly. Well, I never did. Over in the children's section, Hubber kept trying to pull J away and drag her back over to where I was. But she was adamant on staying because "Mommy said she'd meet us here!" "Mommy's not coming!" he finally told her. He was right. I had no intention of making my way to the kiddie section. None at all. I hadn't even realized an hour had passed when they found me. I could spend forever in that place.
Our Home for the Holidays

Our house now closely resembles my image of what Santa's Workshop should look like. Or some might say that it looks like Santa puked all over our house! We've got crap all over the place! Lights, wreaths and garland outside - along with those "balls of light" or whatever they're called. Inside, we've got cookie jars, candy bowls and candles galore, a winter village scene, a snowman family, a moose family, animated snoopy, animated mr./ms. claus, and more garland wreaths and lights! Not to mention our big, fat Christmas tree. Hey, you only live once, right?! We looove Christmas time - and it's plainly obvious once you step through the front door. It's the closest you can get to being obnoxious without actually BEING obnoxious.

We're cute, we're fun, we're one cool family, damnit!
Apparently, in the movie Spaceship Troopers, Hubber says there's a co-ed locker room to go along with the co-ed sports. Ok, so that's a weird thing to come up out of the blue in a conversation, right. Well, first we were talking about the "tellerporter" from the Washington Mutual commercials - you know the one where they beam tellers to wherever you are? Anyway - Hubber thinks there would be many very functional uses for such a object. He said he'd use it to tellerport into a bank vault, swipe some money, then tellerport his ass out of there...or he'd use it to tellerport himself into the grocery store, fill up his basket, then tellerport himself and his grocery basket outta there. I said I'd use it to tellerport myself into the Houston Texans locker room at the exact moment all the guys were buck naked, walking out of the shower...I'd grab a few handfuls of those big ol' booties, then tellerport out of there. Somehow, the conversation turned to co-ed locker rooms - because, I guess Hubber figured he'd like to grab some booties, too (of the female persuasion, of course). I happen to think co-ed locker rooms wouldn't be a problem for women - men, however would be too distracted to concentrate on their jobs. Men just can't handle a bunch of naked women. I don't believe they have the ability to disassociate naked-ness with sex.

Hubber and I came to the same conclusion... Starship Troopers is a fake ass movie.
Burdened with too much info
At work, I’m the person everyone likes to talk to. They know I’ll keep my mouth shut no matter what they tell me. Sometimes this reputation weighs pretty heavy. The only thing I can do is go home and dump it all on Hubber. He sits there and nods as if he’s taking it all in. At that point, I don’t really care if he’s even listening, I’m just happy he sits quietly and ACTS like he cares.

That stands for mother-in-law (in internet lingo). Mine is a piece of work. Damned if you do… damned if you don’t. She lives by that motto. It makes things easier for her that way, I think, when she’s being a PAIN IN EVERYONE’S ASS! (damn the old-lady-syndrome… damn it to hell!)
Being a Parent

Yesterday J spent the night with my mom. Which was great because it gave me and Hubber a chance to do a little Christmas shopping without her. He said he felt like we should have been DOING something special...something we can't do when she's with us. I'm assuming he meant we should have stayed home, loafing around the house naked and humping like bunnies. To him, that's special. To me, special would mean that we should have gone out to dinner and and a movie...or shoe shopping. Now, that's special!

Anyway, we went Christmas shopping, to my favorite Vietnamese take-out place, then home. And that's when I started missing my baby. It's funny how parents wish they could just ship their children to China when the kids are home - but the minute they leave, it's all boo-hoo-I-miss-my-baby-I-better-call-and-make-sure-she's-alright kind of crap. Jeez. Who'da thunk being a parent was actually a rewarding, emotional experience?

Bridesmaids Dress Consultant

Today a friend of mine asked if I could help out with her wedding by helping her choose bridesmaids dresses. I'm flattered that she thinks my keen eye for style is beyond compare. But, I wonder if she's just palming something on me that her maid of honor should actually be helping her with? I mean, I'm not even IN the wedding. I don't know, maybe I'm thinking about it too much. I should just help her because I love her and I want her to have a great wedding. But, then, if I help her and find some gorgeous dresses for these gals, what would all the guests have to gossip about? Bridesmaids dresses are supposed to be god-awful and unflattering, which in turn makes the bride look that much more beautiful. But if I'm in charge of finding the right dresses, those gals might just steal the show. I've given this way to much thought, haven't I? I'll stop now.
6 Weeks

Well, it's just around the corner now, and I'm not ready. I'm not ready for Thanksgiving because that means Christmas comes next, then New Year's...which means another year bites the dust. Where the heck does time go? I remember when I was in grade school and 6 weeks seemed like an eternity! Now, when Juli's dentist says, "See you in 6 weeks." I think, damn, that's too soon! What can possibly happen with her teeth in 6 weeks?!

Remember in school when the grading period lasted 6 weeks? It was like, F - D - D - oops, I better start getting some A's and B's before the 6 weeks is up. 6 weeks back then was a long time. Now, when I'm putting my magazine together and I hit the 6-weeks-before-sending-to-the-publisher point, I freak out! I scramble for writers, I scramble for pictures, and time just seems to get away from me.

Fun, Fun, Fun!

You know what's fun? Tormenting my child by dragging her along on Christmas shopping ventures! Saying, "Put it on your list!" every time she asks for something or, "Maybe Santa will get that for you." It's so cool not to have to say, "Are you nuts? We can't afford that crap!" Instead, when she doesn't get something she wants, we can blame it on good ol' Santa! A few days ago J told us that Santa usually only gets her 2 or 3 things off of her list - that he gets her mostly stuff she didn't ask for. That damn Santa!
The dummy husband’s guide to a peaceful marriage

#1: When being intimate, do not, under any circumstances, attempt to multi-task.
On one occasion, Hubber reached for the remote during a very intimate moment. When I stared at him in total astonishment, he said, “Sorry, Honey, I was just turning it off so we wouldn't be distracted.” But he turned the channel twice before hitting the power button for crying out loud!

#2: Learn what your jobs are around the house, do them well, and don’t wait to be asked to do them.This is an easy one. Take out the trash in a timely manner… don’t wait until it’s overflowing and ants are crawling around in the kitchen. Take care of the vehicles… get them washed, inspected, tuned up, oil changed, tires rotated, etc. If you don’t, your wife will probably ask her dad to do it… and you don’t want the Father-in-law thinking you’re not taking care of his little girl. Cut the grass. Keep the child out of the wife’s hair when a) she’s in the bathroom – be it showering, pooping, peeing or just washing up; b) she is slaving over a hot stove; c) she is reading; d) she is on the phone/computer; d) she is walking around the house with scowl on her face.

#3: If you really don’t want to help, don’t offer. Even if you’re offering help just to be nice, expecting the wife to say, “No thanks, Honey, I’ve got it all under control.” The other day while I was cooking, Hubber came into the kitchen and asked, “What can I help with?” I told him he could unload the dishwasher, then load it up again, then chop up some lettuce and cucumbers for a salad. He stood there for a few seconds and said, “oh… uhm… why don’t I just take out the trash?” Oh… so NOW he remembers the damn trash! The last time he asked if he could help, I wanted to preface my answer to his shady offer by asking, “Do you REALLY want to help?” But that would have only made things worse because there’s no right answer to that question. If he had said “yes,” I would have thought he’s a lying weasel. If he had said “no,” I would have been angry at his brutal honesty and total disregard for all I do to make the household run so smoothly. So, to keep things simple, I asked him to take out the trash, bring in the mail and help J with her computer problem.

#4: Kill all bugs and dispose of them properly. Do not shove the squashed bug under the wife’s nose… and do not run around the house scaring the kid with it. Most importantly, if YOU are scared of the bug, too, do NOT let your family know it. Be brave. Don’t be a girly-man. Kill the bug, and move on with your life. We like to fantasize that that you’re a superhero, saving the day.

#5: Guilt-trips can only be had, not given. I think this is a very simple lesson to learn. Do not, ever, ever, ever attempt to make your wife feel guilty for something. The number one way to keep peace is to agree with your wife when she says she needs new shoes… or a new outfit… or even a new lipstick for that matter. I guarantee you, if you make one peep about how she doesn’t really need at 34th pair of shoes, there will be no hanky panky that night… maybe not the next night either
Boss Lady - That's me.

A couple of months ago, I got a promotion. Ok, so now you’re probably thinking, YAY! you got a raise! You would be wrong to think that. There was no raise. There were only added responsibilities. I’m the boss of an entire department now. The great thing is – they didn’t take any of my old responsibilities away, they just gave me more! YAY! (That was sarcasm, by the way, in case your sarcasm detector isn't working.) What’s wrong with this picture? I’ll tell you… it isn't fair! But here I am, rolling with the punches. Before, I just managed myself - and a few pee-on administrative assistants...but now, I've get to manage real people! I've learned that most people are not as smart as they look. I've also learned that the people who look dumbest, are usually the smart ones. They just look dumb on purpose so no one gives them important things to do. Now, that's pretty smart, eh?

Office Etiquette

Ok, so at the request of my boss, I created an “Etiquette Manual” to be used by all as a reference. When in doubt, each person is supposed to refer to this piece of art before acting like an asshole. There’s pointers on it like, “Say Please… and of course Thank You. Your mother should I have taught you that.” (I added my own commentary where appropriate.) Very few people around here say the magic word… and even fewer are thankful. It’s amazing how grown people act worse than children, isn’t it?

On another note, just the other day, I was on the phone (ok, so it wasn’t a business call – I was gossiping with my mother about my sister-in-law – why is it that when I’m actually talking business, no one needs me, but the minute I take care of a little personal stuff, they're tearing the damn door down?!)… anyway, I was on the phone when one of the ladies I work with comes into my office. She could plainly see that I was on the phone and yet proceeded to rummage through the paperwork on my desk! What the *#&@%?! So, I politely ask the person on the phone (my mama) to hold one second, I turn to the rude heffer in my office and tell her that I’ll be with her in a minute. She nodded, but didn’t leave… just continued reading stuff on my desk. I was forced to add “I’ll come down to your office when I’m done, I’m on a very important call.” She put my paperwork down and walked out. The nerve!

I think this manual is a work in progress.

Also, I wonder if public restroom etiquette should be included. Restroom stall buffers, for instance… if there are 3 stalls and one person in the last one, the decent thing to do is take the first one. Why would anyone plop themselves down in the center stall?! That’s the emergency stall – only to be used with the other two are occupied! There there’s one lady who asks, “who’s in there?” or “is that you, Jane?” when she notices she isn’t alone in the restroom (worse yet, she peeks under the stalls, recognizes your shoes and gives a personal hello). I don’t know about you, but when I HAVE to go to the restroom, I like to get in and out unnoticed and as quickly as possible. I don’t want to chit chat while someone is farting… I want to take care of business, wash my hands, and get the hell out of there. I won’t even mention the instances where I had to hold it because I walked in and the stench was so awfully unbearable, that if I had stayed to pee, I would have puked and fainted. Can we say Courtesy Flushes? Poop-Flush-Spray. Poop-Flush-Spray. Geez! Instead, they let the foul smell of every bit of their waste linger in the air.

Ok. That was gross. I'm sorry. I hope no one was having lunch while reading this.

I'm starting a blog. I'm hoping this will be a place where I can let my my hair down - a place where I can go to ponder life's obstacles - a place where all is right with the world. Or maybe, it'll just be me ranting and raving and writing petty things about freakish people. Either way, it's all good.

I guess I'll tell ya'll a bit about myself - you know, get all the facts out of the way before I go off on tangents. I live in Houston, TX. I am a mixed-race (white/hispanic) result of a hippie love affair. Ok, so my parents actually married - but they divorced before I was 2. Anyway - fast forward a couple of decades and I become a single mother. Then six years later, I get married to the hottest, sexiest, funniest, most perfect man in the world! So, now my daughter is 7 and I've been married to Mr. Right (aka Hubber) for a little over a year. Count the cat, and we're one big happy family! And for the record, we have no plans to add to the family. None. Zip. So, don't ask.

Speaking of more kids, yesterday when I went to pick up our Vietnamese take-out, the lady ringing me up said, "How many kids you got?" "Just one," I told her, pointing to J. Then she proceeded to tell me that she had her second child when her first child was 7 years old, and that I should consider having another child, too. She said it was the best thing to ever happen to her. Ok. First of all, how freaky is it that her kid was 7 when she had a second child?! Second of all, shyeah right! No psychic Chineese take-out lady is going to convince me that I should have another kid!