Category Archives: Martini Madness

April 8, 2014 · 4:32 pm

Coming Out of the Blogset

When I started blogging and tweeting earlier this year, only my husband and three dogs knew I was doing this. Frankly, I’m not sure how much they cared, as long as they got their belly rubs. But, recently, I’ve decided to come out of the blogging closet, or blogset, to use a fun portmanteau.

At first, I kept things quiet because I didn’t know how long I would keep up with it. I have a tendency to go from, “Hey! Look at this fun thing I’m doing!” to, “Well, looks like I need to do this thing,” culminating in, “Hey! Look at this NEW fun thing I’m doing!”

I am Dug, from Up. Squirrel!

Squirrel!

Squirrel!

After gaining some traction with my blog and tweets (big hugs to all of you), I started to feel like I was leading some sort of double life. People asked me what I did over the weekend and I’d reply very quickly, “Nothing! Why do you ask? What did you hear? I spent all of time with my children. Coloring. And reading the bible.”

I could have been doing those things. Or, I could have been hiding from my children drinking wine in a closet, while trying to whip up bon mots for Twitter. Either one.

One night, I thought I’d tell two of my very best friends about my great secret. Of course, with the way I am with the word putting together, they probably thought I was going to tell them I was pregnant with baby #3, even though they know better.

I started off with, “So… I have some news.” And anyone who has friends, knows that in your 20s, this means someone is announcing an engagement, in your late 20s/early 30s you’re telling everyone you’re pregnant, and in your 40s, it means you’re telling everyone either that you’re getting a divorce or you’ve found a new wine you really like. Or both.

My blogging news was met with a much better reception than if I had announced I was pregnant, because once again, my friends know me way too well. And the next day, I had one following me on twitter and the other had read my blog in its entirety.

Have I mentioned that I heart my friends?

Every up has its down. Just like every rose has its thorn. Just like… sorry. Channeling my inner Bret Michaels there.

So, I was out for a work happy hour and I mentioned to a co-worker that I blogged. And then he asked about my blog. I felt like a doofus saying, “I blog about motherhood.” Somehow, it seemed like I could have easily said, “I Instagram photos of my dogs.”

Heeeyyy... So... I blog. And I'm not weird at all.

Heeeyyy… So… I blog. And I’m not weird at all.

Instantly, my great passion seemed ridiculous.

In retrospect, I SHOULD have said, “I amusingly write about the ups and downs of motherhood.” Or something like that. Anything else would have been better.

It wasn’t until I wrote about my personal loss that I let anyone else know that I did this. Everyone was very kind, but I still feared some backlash. Not about the one particular post I shared, but… the other posts.

So… I may have referenced people I know in other blog posts. Not by name; I’m not stupid, but if they read it, they would know it was them. And… I may have to see one of those people on a semi-regular basis. Yeah. Awkward. I can only hope they are not big blog readers. Or, that I can distract them with something shiny if they get to that post.

I’m screwed, aren’t I?

All I can do is embrace my blogginess and ask everyone to love me, even if I might have tossed a little snark their way.

Who knows, I may even become more bold in what I write, because if I have already ticked off family and survived, does anything else matter? The only thing I probably won’t do is put my kids in my blog or on Twitter, but that’s mainly because I think their combination of brilliance and stunning good looks would just make other parents sad. Plus, this is all about me, obviously, so I’ll keep the attention where it is most important.

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April 2, 2014 · 11:26 am

Finding Humor in Death

“We may laugh about everything. We must laugh about everything – even death. Especially death. After all, does death show any qualm about laughing at us?” – Pierre Desproges

Last week, I decided to join my husband on a trip to Puerto Rico. I thought it would be great to get out of the snow, lay by a pool and sip tiny tropical beverages for week. And God laughed at me. Hard. Pretty sure it was the kind of laughter that ended in snorts.

Less than 12 hours before I was supposed to fly out, I found out that my brother passed away.

Insert long, heavy pause here.

Since I don’t want to bore bring anyone down with the details, I will leave it at that this was a surprise.

I did decide to go on vacation and, yes, I have spent roughly 1/4 of my time crying randomly around Old San Juan, convincing the locals that we mainland gringos really are crazy. But I have also brought forth great memories of my brother, which also spawned crazy crying. Here’s a sample.

1. I was born on the mean streets of LA (okay, it was the valley). Consequently, I did not see snow in person until I was 5 or 6. My parents thought I should experience the horror wonder that is snow, so we trundled up to the mountains and pulled off to the side of the road and played in a random patch of snow.

Side note… My parents sure know how to make “baby’s first snowfall” special. I will give them the benefit of the doubt and instead of assuming they are lazy for not taking us to a “proper snow patch” I’ll pretend a snow-covered turnout in the mountains was the perfect plan.

Of course initial wonderment devolved into a snowball fight. I gleefully lobbed snowballs at my brother, and in turn, he put snow down my back.

It was the best of times. It was the frostiest of times. I am lucky I didn’t end up with hypothermia. Thanks for the snow slushie, big brother.

2. When I was growing up, I LOVED Pee Wee’s Playhouse, and that show was something that gave my brother and me something to bond on. Before this, it was hard to find common ground with him. He was in high school and I was watching Snorks. I mean, seriously. What is he going to ask me? “So…how’s that finger painting coming along? Have you learned to paint within the lines yet?”

Pee Wee was a gateway drug that led him to introducing me to Pink Floyd, muscle cars, and other things that made me more well rounded, and most importantly to my teenage self, more attractive to boys. I am sure this is not what my brother had in mind, but I’ll just say it was a delightful benefit.

3. When he was a teenager, my brother bought a truck. So, of course he was expected to play chauffeur for his baby sister. One day he picked me up from school. I was younger (we will say 3rd grade because I really don’t know when it happened, only that I was little) and sitting in the front seat with him.

Let that settle in. I am in roughly 3rd grade and in the front seat of a pickup truck.  Long live the unsafe 80s.

As we are driving and chatting, I notice he has these little containers of creamer in his cupholder. I pick one up and for whatever reason known only to my childhood self, decide to open it. Pickup trucks are bumpy. Creamer tends to build up lactic acid, making it swell with air.

I think you can guess what happens next. I cover my brother’s sweet ride in coffee creamer. He was not amused. I feared for my life. I don’t remember what the outcome was, but since I am here and he is not (nothing like a little gallows humor to spice things up), I can only assume I ran to my dad who was bigger and tougher than my brother and he fixed everything.

4. Speaking of the gallows, my brother had a dark sense of humor. It’s something that runs in my family. Kind of like poop through a goose.

For a period of time, my brother received phone calls from someone asking for a person named Metahia. He was polite and explained that the caller had the wrong number. Unfortunately, the caller didn’t speak English and kept calling back, asking for Metahia.

My brother took a logical leap and decided the caller spoke Spanish (before any reader gets uppity, please remember I was living in the San Fernando Valley where everything is bilingual English/Spanish). So, he learned how to say that Metahia wasn’t there and the caller had the wrong number. When the mystery guest phoned again, my brother used his magic phrase and hung up. You’d think that would be the end of it. Nope. Not long afterward, he got another call for Metahia.

No wonder Metahia didn’t give her family the right phone number. They never give up. I’d want to avoid them too.

In a fit of frustration, my brother shouts, “Metahia esta muerto.”

There was silence on the other end and the caller hung up. You might think that is cruel, but, it did stop the phone calls. I think everyone wins in that situation.

I have so many more wonderful memories, more than four anyway, and I look forward to reminiscing with my family when we gather to say goodbye. There will be dark jokes, and playful jabs; all part of this crazy family that is mine, all mine. God help us all.

Don’t worry. Right now I am in my black crepe and wearing a jet necklace, but I promise to put on my half-mourning garb soon and spin a delightfully funny take on the other reasons I should not have taken this vacation.

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March 26, 2014 · 9:50 pm

I Should Not Shop eBay After Wine

I love wine. I love shopping. Together you’d think they would be a match made in heaven. That would be a wrong thought, my friend.

When I have a few glasses of wine, I tend to grab my phone, skim the interwebs, play a few games, and shop on eBay. My husband introduced me to eBay and I am hooked. It’s like shopping without buying anything. I can watch auctions go by and live vicariously through someone else’s purchase of a beautiful Hermes scarf, or I can scope out bargains for my favorite designers.

To date, I have placed bids on Christian Louboutin high heels, and Zara dresses; purchased a Yuengling poster with dogs drinking beer… and… sheer underwear for my husband.

Let me explain before the judging begins.

When I do the laundry, and for the most part, I am the only one who does the laundry, I throw out anything with holes or yellow armpits. This bugs my husband to no end because most of his underwear has holes in it and most of his shirts have yellow pits. Consequently, there are occasions when he is shirtless and going commando. I find this hot, but his co-workers would probably not be as enthused.

Take this knowledge with you to my couch, and sit on it with a fishbowl of white wine. With frozen peaches floating in it. This makes the wine more nutritious because there’s a snack at the end. The vitamin C keeps scurvy away. So, you’re roughly halfway through the box of wine, I mean glass, and your husband mentions the fact that he’s running low on underwear and shooting you a dirty look.

What do you do if you’re me and you tend to shop while drinking wine? You get on eBay and solve this problem with underwear! At this point, my mind gets a little fuzzy. I know I looked at a wide variety of underclothes and put a few on watch. And that’s where I thought it ended. But, nay, nay. Nay, I say.

I woke up the next morning and checked my email. There was one from eBay that proclaimed, “Congratulations! You have won the fabulous piece of crap upon which you bid!” No surprise, I’m paraphrasing here.

My hand to God, I was baffled. What the hell did I buy? Maybe I didn’t buy anything. Maybe I was hacked! I opened the email, and it all came back to me. I had purchased some trunks for my husband. They are like boxer briefs, but a little shorter. AND THEY WERE SHEER!

In my state, I had no clue they were sheer. I just thought they were regular old black underwear. And they weren’t Hanes. They were some random ass brand from China. Yes, China.

Now, here’s another fun fact for you. Did you know that you can get things from China, dirt cheap? Yes! It takes six weeks, but these fabulous goods from another land will wing their way to you in a plain brown envelope. Here is what I received just a few weeks later:

underwear

Did you catch the brand name? Wangjang. Yeah.

The hubs was not pleased, even though the stripper gear did only cost pennies. A few hundred pennies, but pennies none the less.

Then to add insult to injury, he refused to wear them! At least try these bad boys on. It could be funny, it could be sexy. You don’t know until you try it. At least, that’s what I tell the kids about lima beans.

My husband has banned me from eBay, either with or without wine. I don’t blame him. Although, he might forgive me if I get him that 2$ watch from Shanghai.

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March 18, 2014 · 10:57 pm

I Carry Way Too Much Crap in My Bag

Over the weekend, I discovered the Tuesday Ten, a blog link up hosted by The Liebers and The Golden Spoons. This week’s topic encouraged people to expose the very marrow of their being to the world. I mean, you were supposed to dump out your purse and make a list of 10 things inside.

Image

This is my purse and its contents. It carries most everything that’s important to me. Like…

  1. My wallet – It is a bulging mess. It’s full of change (never cash), receipts, gift cards that I never get to use because I can’t go anywhere nice because I have children, rewards card for places like Orange Leaf because that’s the nicest place I can go because I have kids.
  2. Sunglasses – I have a slight obsession with eBay. I blame my husband for this. He discovered that you can order things directly from China at a fraction of the price. He has used it for good, and purchased LED lights for our home. I have used it to buy cheap things like sunglasses (just 2$!) and jewelry (seriously – earrings for .50$). I am probably on a House Un-American list somewhere.
  3. Ghost eraser – This is a random nugget from my kids. I tend to pick things up and put them in my purse using it as a vehicle to carry things upstairs. I must have thought the eraser belonged upstairs, so I put it in my purse to carry it there and then I forgot all about it. I will most likely put it back in there after I write this and forget it’s there. I’m a lot like Dory from Finding Nemo.
  4. The girl’s sock – My daughter hates to wear socks. Once we get into the car, she rips off her shoes and her socks. I usually don’t care, unless it’s winter and I have an irrational fear that frostbite will take her little piggies. I pick up her pig covers and hope that I can wrestle them on her when she’s not looking. I almost always fail.
  5. Hand lotion – My hands are desert dry in the winter, and I carry hand lotion. I also have dogs that like to get into my purse and wreak havoc on what they can find. I try to put my purse where they can’t get to it, but they can either fly or are able to push chairs around to get to it. That’s why the end of the hand lotion is gnawed off. They usually go for the gum, but somehow, I guess I got lucky.
  6. Makeup bag – I never have time to do anything in the morning and, consequently, I end up taking care of me while I drive into work. I always have an empty bowl under my seat from breakfast and I end up putting on my face while driving. I know. I know. But, if I don’t, I’ll end up looking like I have been dragged through a bush backwards. And no one needs to be subjected to that.
  7. Ear phones – I discovered Hoopla, an app that lets me access the digital assets of my local library. I listen to A LOT of books while I work. Check out the Divergent series. Books one and two are great; three is a bit of a letdown.
  8. A to-do list in the form of random papers – I have way too much on my plate, like most moms. I remind myself of all the things I need to follow up on by leaving papers in my purse. The visual cues keep me on track. This week’s papers say that I need to sell mulch for my son’s Cub Scout pack and I need to RSVP for yet another birthday party. Anyone looking to mulch this Spring?
  9. Hair tie – When my son was born, I thought I’d outsmart his hair grabbing skills by cutting off mine. It didn’t work and he ended up ripping it out by the fistfuls. Finally, I decided to grow it out and it ends up in my eyes. A lot. The hair tie helps me keep my sanity in the meantime.
  10. Hand sanitizer – I have kids. I also hate germs. I think it’s from all the pinkeye my son contracted when he was a toddler. I carry Sweet Pea scented sanitizer and lube up my children regularly.

Now you’ve had a glimpse into my soul. Hang out, roll around a bit, but don’t get too comfy. It will all change once I decide that I need a new purse.

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March 9, 2014 · 8:51 pm

I Am An Award Winning Bag Of Awesome!

Today, I awoke to the wonderful news that I have been awarded the Liebster Award by the swagtastic, Daddy Anarchy (check him out; hi-to-the-larious). I shall take a moment to let the applause die down.

Liebster Award BadgeWhat’s the Liebster Award, you might ask? Why, it’s only the most awesome award ever. I get to share all about me, and then get other bloggers to share all about themselves. We bloggers as a whole are a shy bunch, unlikely to reveal too much, so this is the perfect opportunity to get us out of our shells.

Now, this is not an award I take lightly. It comes with great responsibility. I have to state 11 facts about myself, answer 11 probing questions from Daddy Anarchy (tee hee, I used the word “probe”), and then pass the torch to at least three other bloggers (who have less than 3,000 followers), and ask them compelling questions about themselves. They in turn give this great honor to other bloggers and so on and so forth until we are all joined in one giant bloggy hug. It’s good stuff.

So, here we go. Eleven super fantastic fun facts…

  1. I am originally from the great state of California, and I moved to Ohio to attend The Ohio State University. Don’t forget the “The.” They take it seriously there.
  2. I hate snow. Passionately. Every single flake. And I’ve lived in a snowy state for 18 years. FML.
  3. I was a Classics major in college, which means I spent four years studying ancient Greece by analyzing pots and old plays. (Spoiler alert to anyone else majoring in Classics, or Greek and Latin as it is now known, it does not lead to a real job once you graduate)
  4. For roughly eight years, I worked on the websites at two different news stations in Columbus. There were amazing highs and soul-crushing lows. I wouldn’t trade it for anything as I met two of my best friends and earned a great deal of perspective on the world at large.
  5. I took a sabbatical from college and lived in San Diego for a few months. I worked at the Natural History Museum, and I had the opportunity to help dissect a mountain lion that had been attacking dogs in the area.
  6. When I was little I did voice over work for commercials and I had the opportunity to work with Lorenzo Music, also known as the voice of Garfield. I’ll give you a moment to get over the jealousy.
  7. I was the Twister champ in high school.
  8. I have visited every mission in California. My favorite part of the mission to visit was the cemetery. I used to make up stories about the people that were buried there.
  9. Never have I ever… watched any of the Rocky or Rambo films. I know I’m missing something culturally, but I just can’t bring myself to watch them.
  10. I could eat my weight in Cadbury Creme Eggs. The great joy of my life was traveling to London and realizing they sell them year round. Oh, and I liked the city too.
  11. My first date with my husband was at a college date party, wearing a pelt and viking helmet. One of his friends felt me up when I was dancing with him. I ran away shrieking in terror, slipped on a puddle of beer and slid into a folding table, bruising my shin. It was a great way to make a first impression.

Now, on to the probing questions.

  1. Who is your favorite author? It’s a toss up between Jane Austen and Margaret Atwood.
  2. Who’s your biggest hero? My dad. He’s smart, creative, caring and has a very insightful humor. He has never failed me. Yes, he is flawed, but what great hero isn’t?
  3. If you could change one thing about your physical appearance, what would it be: I would have abs of steel. I want to be able to bounce a quarter off of them.
  4. Leno or Letterman? (and don’t be a smartass and say “Leno’s not one anymore” or “what about Conan, or the other guys?”) Before the whole Conan O’Brien thing, I would have said Leno, but I thought that coming back was kind of a kindergarten, taking my ball back, kind of move. I also feel like I can’t say Letterman, because he seems so bitter. So, if I have to pick, I’ll go with Leno. He had genuine comedic skills and he passed the torch on to the HILARIOUS Jimmy Fallon.
  5. Have you ever mixed french fries with a Wendy’s Frosty? No, but I did eat fries with ice cubes. Does that count?
  6. Now that I’ve introduced you to mixing french fries with Frosty’s, will you try it? I shall!
  7. Favorite 80s hair metal ballad? Poison. I love me some Bret Michaels.
  8. If you were a comic strip character, who would it be? Hobbes. I am the sassy sidekick type.
  9. In the next 30 seconds, name as many different words for “ass.” Go! Butt, tuchous, hind quarters, flanks, marshmallow pillows, fluffin’ stuff, junk in the trunk, badonkadonk. I think that was 30 seconds worth.
  10. Team Edward or Team Jacob? Team Jacob. Edward was so whiny and annoying. Plus, who sparkles? If my husband came home sparkly, I would he assume he spent the night in a stripclub. If he came home, transformed into a wolf and snuggled up to me, I’d be okay with that.
  11. What, if any, stereotypes do you fall into? I am a terrible woman driver. I learned to drive in California and I also have horrible spatial skills; I am always trying to squeeze between cars that really cannot accommodate my massive minivan.

Now, for my nominations…

  1. The Monster in Your Closet – Intellectual and introspective. I feel smarter for having read her blog posts.
  2. ComfyTown Chronicles – Random, and delightfully so. Plus you have to respect anyone who posts a picture of herself in a chicken hat.
  3. The DoctorDiva Gets Healthy – She’s funny and a doctor. One day I’ll ask her to look at the weird growth on my husband’s hand (seriously, what the heck is that thing?).

And, my questions to them:

  1. What do you want to be when you grow up?
  2. What is your favorite ice cream flavor and why?
  3. If you could change one moment in history, what would it be?
  4. Pick the ultimate superpower.
  5. Cats or dogs?
  6. How did you pick your blog’s name?
  7. What is your favorite post that you have written?
  8. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?
  9. You can only eat one thing for the rest of your life. What is it?
  10. Describe yourself using one word.
  11. Any regrets?

Okay, that’s it. Way too long of a post, even for me and I am the most verbose person I know. Enjoy what I’ve whipped up and pass the love along to others. Namaste!

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Aside

I Love Social Media, But It Makes Me Hyperventilate

I have been swimming in the social media space for a couple of months now, but there are times when I feel great anxiety about proper netiquette. Like, “hand me a brown paper bag” anxiety.  When it flares up alongside spelling and grammar worries, I might as well sit in a corner and rock until the feeling goes away.

But it never does.  It’s probably because I am, at heart, an introvert and people pleaser. I might as well get “LOVE ME!” tattooed on my forehead. At least then people know what they’re dealing with. My need to be loved, looks like this in the real world:

Pinkie Pie

Pinkie Pie, as drawn by moi.

I wanted to use a picture of Benedict Cumberbatch photobombing U2, but I had a panic attack about what was legal to use. Then, I thought I’d use a photo of Pinkie Pie, who is a needy and energetic, and suitable to represent my people-pleasing angst. Once again… copyright. I do not want to tick off the Ponies. So, I decided to draw my own image of Pinkie Pie. I know. It’s awesome.

Twitter
Ah, yes. Twitter.  It’s 140 characters, chock full of wit & wisdom. I understand the basics; tweet a few times a day, don’t promote only your stuff, interact with your virtual friends, and don’t tell the world when you’re using Twitter in the bathroom. What I get stressed out about is…. When do I favorite? I usually favorite a tweet that I find amusing or when someone has tweeted me. But, what happens when I’ve had an interaction, but really don’t have more to say? Do I just favorite? Do I add a winky face or emoticon? Is the person on the other end of the tweet sitting there, waiting for my reply and thinking, “Is she still there? Why is she not continuing this conversation? Forget her. I’m taking my ball and going home.”

Other things I worry about…. When retweeting, if I want to add a response, but there aren’t enough characters, is it ok to delete parts of someone else’s tweet? It reminds me of college when I’d ask a friend to read one of my term papers to make sure it made sense and they would start shuffling my words around. Stick in an Oxford comma or tell me to tighten things up, but don’t squirrel with my words. It’s not cool. Does the same thing apply in the Twitterverse?

And, when is it OK to unfollow someone? I was following someone who I thought was humorous, and then their tweets turned into selling their own stuff and links to other random things. No real thought or interaction. For the longest time, I kept following them because I thought they followed me too, when I finally checked out their feed to see if they did tweet anything other than self-promotion, I saw they weren’t following me. I nipped that twit-lationship in the bud real fast.

Speaking of unfollowing, why is it that some people will follow you to get a followback, and then unfollowing you? In the words of Stephanie Tanner, “How rude!” Why is that a thing? I am probably putting more into Twitter than need be, but I follow people that I think I’ll find interesting, or at least will promote the heck out of me when I am my hilarious self. It just seems so cheap and dirty to do otherwise. All I can say is, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Blogging
When I started blogging, I thought I would whip up brilliantly humourous blogs every other day, no problem. I had outlined several topics, set aside time to write, and had been inspired by other bloggers via Facebook and Twitter. I burned through a couple topics, and then it struck. Writer’s Block. My muse left and I could only muster up my Dorothy Parker-esque wit every few days (okay, I’m no Dorothy Parker, but, you know, maybe one day). Then, worry set in. Am I not REALLY a writer? My readers will leave me! And if I’m not writing, I’m not commenting!  And I look ungrateful! I am an uninspired, ungrateful hack!  Commence heavy breathing into a paper bag! In, out, in, out, in, out…. Getting light headed here….

PR Friendly
I read an article that compared labeling oneself as “pr friendly” to having a sign that reads, “Will work for cupcakes.”* Part of me thought, “Hey! I like cupcakes! I would work for those.” And then another part thought, “Am I tarting myself out for cupcakes just to be left with an empty wrapper when the company is done with me and my Twitter followers abandon me for being such a tart?” Other than obviously putting too much thought into cupcakes and tartery, I was faced with a moral dilemma. Would my blog/twitter feed/whatevs turn into me promoting stuff? Would I feel compelled to write things like, “Hanging with my hubs on our new #SealyPosturpedic mattress. I’m getting good sleep tonight!” The thought makes me want to vurp. Or maybe that’s the sushi I had for dinner.

You know… some slutty cupcakes might make me feel better. I think I’ll eat them on my Sealy mattress.

*I can’t find that article anywhere. If anyone knows what I’m talking about and has the URL, let me know. Thanks, love you, mean it.

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March 4, 2014 · 10:21 pm