So, Dick Clarke died…about 6 years ago. Since then, all public appearances have been made by a wildly malfunctioning robot which finally ran its motherboard into the ground last night. I shall miss its uncomfortable slurring and strangely unlifelike presence when the clock strikes midnight this new years. At least that little gnome Seacrest won’t have to share the limelight when introducing LL Cool J to the stage. Holla!!
So, much to my surprise/horror/delight/nausea…I discovered that one of my regular “deal of the day” sites was offering me a chance to experience the joys of a colonic cleansing. On the cheap, no less. Call me crazy, but if ever I decide to let a stranger come knocking at the back door for any reason…I will be paying top dollar!!!
Day 1 of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Day 1 of my ever loving hubby loving the Canucks more than he loves me. Day 1 of otherwise level headed and respectable citizens obsessing over plays, penalties, and pulled groins. People wear jerseys to work y’all! Madness!!
As a proud vancouverite, I wish the team well. As a proud vancouverite…I hope the city will have the sense to pull its head out of its ass if this thing goes sideways.
As I am about to embark on an epic, two day, ham filled bender…pausing only in my pork fueled hysteria to nosh upon the occasional mini egg..I stop to wish you a Happy Easter. Xo.
I know it’s Easter weekend…but I’m feeling rather thankful today. Seeing these wee people quietly helping their Dad make breakfast was the start I needed to the day. I left before the feast was served ( I’m attempting to get in shape and these saddle bags won’t melt themselves. Trust me.) but it filled my heart with pride to know they both consumed unholy amounts of sausage while I was gone.
Ps. I’m counting on today’s workout to cancel any damage incurred when I rapidly consume my weight in mini eggs.
Well, it’s been a while. And given my history, I wouldn’t be surprised if many assumed I finally succumbed to the pressure of motherhood and exited the cyber world, stage left, in a blaze of merlot induced psychosis.
Alas, while I wish I had maniacally slashed my hair off while weeping softly, and began anew my life…I simply got too busy. Which sounds so pathetic. But, it’s the truth. So take off yee judgy pants of yore…and try to understand what it’s like to re-enter the world of gainful employment when said employment starts with a 4am wake up call. From my alarm clock. Don’t worry..I haven’t gone THAT fancy. Yet.
I used to do most/all of my writing at night when the house was quiet. Sometimes, I threw up a quick post if The Little Man was napping. But now, thanks to my new job (which is awesome, by the way) I now nap when the boy naps…and go to bed as soon as all chores are done after the kids go to sleep. So, it’s been a time of adjustment and sacrifice…and Me & Midge has suffered the most. After my ever loving hubby, my children, my house and my sanity. In no particular order.
But…I think I’ve finally entered the stage where I can, once again, let loose on here!!! Yay!! Do I hear a single hand clapping? Yes. But it’s probably only the poor dude who used to end up at the site after searching “huge boobs”…yet has actually become quite a loyal follower.
Things will be a bit different, though. I kind of got into a hole after writing a few, very well received, long posts. That had meaning. And were written from the heart. And I felt a lot of pressure to keep up that precedent. Well, fuck that!! Some posts might be quick. They might not all have pictures stolen from the web. I might include recipes. I just don’t know how crazy it will get!!! But I promise a near daily commitment from here on out. Because, while it might not matter to anyone else…I’ve missed this blog like crazy. And I’m crazy enough without THAT added to the scrap heap of my mind!!!
Happy Easter. Eat Chocolate. Eat Ham. Think of Jesus (if you must). And get ready for the REAL resurrection. Me & Midge is back, y’all. Miracles DO happen!!!
So, I’ll admit to many “quirks” in my personality…I like to be by myself in extremely busy and noisy places. I like to dip pickles in ranch dressing. I like to abandon my blog for months at time while thinking people still will read it (WINK). But my oddest quirk is, perhaps, my insane and disabling phobia about chewed gum.
For reals, ya’ll…I live in fear of encountering it. On the street. On my shoe. Under tables. In people’s mouths. I. Can’t. Handle. Gum. Some people have spiders, or enclosed spaces. Gum is my cross to bear.
So image my horror when I dragged myself, in a pique of hungover glory and self delusion, to the gym and encountered THAT BLUE WAD on the stair master. Who does this? Who chews gum and thinks “ya, I’ll just stick it here on the machine. No biggie”. Fucker. I suppose in a way they did me a favour. If going to the gym is a way to lose weight…then vomiting at the site of said gum should be valued.
On a completely unrelated note…I have a job. Yes. And that’s one of the reason’s I’ve been absent. I work early mornings…and go to bed just after the kids. I’m still figuring out when “me time” occurs. I suppose while I’m sleeping? Regardless, it’s been a time of transition and there have been, and will be, growing pains. But it’ a good thing. I’m lucky to work in a temperamental industry with seemingly lovely people.
And on a final note to get you up to speed…while at an utterly lovely Robbie Burns soiree, Midge fell down a few, steep stairs and landed, hard, on her noggin. The goose egg still astounds me. But I will forever remember the cry she let forth when it happened. I suppose I am lucky to have lasted 5 years without hearing that sort of pain and distress in her voice. It buckled my knees and nearly brought me to tears…so I swiftly took her away to an unused playroom so no one would witness our mutual breakdowns. It amazes me that after this long…being a parent still terrifies me at times. Does this ever go away?
Yeah, I feel you. Creeping into my lungs and spreading your painful little fingers up my throat. Well, allow me to extend a finger of my own. The middle one. Chest Cold…you will not get me down. See that face? You’ll wish you hadn’t, douchebag.
You see, I have too much to do. There is no time for fatigue or bed rest. There is no time for a proper meal, and I know that has been your ticket to ride. Fucker. I get it. You saw a sleep deprived woman suddenly surviving on coffee, Christmas Baking and wine and saw your chance to reign supreme.I suspect you’re in cahoots with my liver. Well played? Guess again. I recognized your subtle burning in my chest. I heard your siren song from my heating pad adorned bed to my suddenly aching bones. I’m so tired of this. I know your game. And I’m playing, JackAss.
Oil of Oregano? Check. In large doses. Multi Vitamins? Please, Bitch..I still have pre-natals in the drawer. You can’t compete.
You see, not only do I have to pull Christmas out of my ass in the next 10 days, but I’m also fighting for a job where my voice is my strongest asset. Now, if I could count on you to make me sound like Demi Moore at the height of her sexiness (which was looong before Ashton, BTW) then I would let you reign supreme…but you and I both know that if I let you take over I’ll sound like that weird monster from Goonies. Not exactly what they’re looking for.
So, try again some other time. Take the holidays off. We’re done here. I’ll give you a couple days of excess phlegm and a scratchy throat and then you must concede defeat. Take it or leave it, bitch.
I struggle with Christmas. All the joy and merriment and socializing with friend and family really goes against my grain. Now that I have kids, I find I’m more conflicted. As a child, I have incredibly fond memories of a tree nearly lifted off its stand with all the presents underneath. It was a day of opulence, and spoiling and sugar and fun. I got stuff!!! I got to lounge around in my pajamas with dirty hair while playing with stuff. And then I’d stuff my mouth to the point of nausea…repeatedly…with breaks to play with stuff and open more stuff. It. Was. Awesome.
But now that I have these precious little beings, I am torn between affording them the same carefree spoiling and making them realize that they already have so much…maybe Christmas should be about spoiling other people? And I don’t mean with gifts. I mean the same kind of spoiling that they receive all year. Cause I spoil my kids to pieces!! I feed them. ALL THE TIME. Every day. Big meals, too. I also clothe them in weather and size appropriate fashion. I give them warm and plush beds. In their OWN BEDROOMS!!! I hug them often and tightly and never leave them to wonder if I am ever coming back or if I love them. These kids are spoiled to death…and maybe returning that favour its what Christmas should be about?
I walk a fine line…and I’m still figuring it out…but I think for now I’m cool with giving them one or two meaningful presents…while donating money and the “stuff” of Christmas past to someone who needs it more. And maybe if we all do this, our kids will be able to grow up understanding that sometimes the greater gifts don’t come wrapped up underneath the tree.
PS. This in no way applies to me. I still demand and expect mass spoilage.
For many, many years I was an unabashed Oprah follower. I didn’t shout it from the roof top, I kept it on the down low (which was a truly fascinating episode, by the way) and proceeded through life with the Mighty Opes as my go-to God, Jesus and Minister. I read the books she recommended, I was there for the initial couch jumping by Sir Crazy Cruise…I followed her and Gayle through thick and thin. But, at some point, I had to leave the church of Oprah. Maybe it was her caustic, and completely over the top, slaying of James Frey (seriously, who DOESN’T take a junkie’s tale with a grain of salt)? Maybe it was the fact that I grew tired of her “rah rah rah…we are so great the way god made us” tirades whilst wearing wigs, contouring makeup and the lashings of her latest diet/obsession? I don’t know. We just grew apart.
But I ALWAYS tuned in to her “favourite things” episodes. And why not? She presented awesome things while her audience collectively lost their shit! Who could resist??
Anyways, I worried that O’s fav’s would fall to the wayside now that she is preoccupied with making Rosie O’donnell relevant again…but she just released her list of things to covet for 2011.
Oprah. Really? REALLY??
Read it yourself here and then join me again….go on, I’ll wait for you.
http://www.savvysugar.com/Oprahs-Favorite-Things-2011-20353036
Uhm…oversized soaps? Is there a bigger way to say “I didn’t have any idea what to get you. But I’m pretty sure you wash. Regularly?”
And the Chicken Pot Pie? I’m sorry….chicken pot pie is an excuse to make decadent pie crust and ease my guilt by throwing it over random vegetables and chicken pieces I have in my freezer. Pounds of chicken inside? Gross. How can you taste the crust?
A milk frother. A MILK FROTHER?? I’m sorry, I’m too busy frothing my milk with the $2.99 milk frother I got at Ikea two years ago. I can’t hear you over my frothing, Oprah!
Don’t even get me started on the Doggie Ornaments. Starts at $70? No, starts at lonely and wealthy widow who would pay anything to have her only true companion back, if only for the festive season!!
Anyways…of course there is a glorified housecoat that is a mortgage payment for most and some other random shit that I think was popular in ’98. And yes, Josh Groban…I’m talking to you. Colour me sad, Oprah. I thought we might have a chance. Maybe 2012 will be our year?
ps. How is Steadman?
