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Showing posts from May, 2009

Obligatory discussion about bras ... or something along those lines

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That's me. Age 24. Olan Mills photo. Engagement picture to be specific. The dress was an open back number. If memory serves me well, the undergarment worn was a strapless, low cut-back bustier. The boning in the damned thing was killing me. So, it's hard to believe I managed a smile. The front of the contraption dropped well below my waistline making sitting on the stool provided quite tricky. I had no belly; yet, it appears my gut resided on my lap. I remember wearing this dress to the wedding rehearsal at the church. The deacon, with wide eyes, commented that it was quite a fetching ensemble. The difference that night was that I elected to go braless. No torture device was underneath. The bodice of the dress was snug and lined. My boobalas were still perky. Those were the good old days. We opted out of the big, Catholic, pomp and circumstance nuptials. No priest presided over our union because a Mass wasn't part of the ceremony. We were married in the church,

Shake, shake, shake

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I confess!! I will try gimmicks to lose weight. I don't buy pills, but I do buy into those infomercials about shaking my booty 'til the weight drops off. You've seen them. Women (and some not so coordinated men) dancing, thrusting, hip thumping themselves into a sweaty frenzy while the instructor energetically leads them. The instructors are frighteningly thin. My guess is they've' not had a visit from Auntie Flow in eons due to dangerously low body fat. No, I do not pay attention to the fine print telling me " results are not typical " when the formerly size 22 is now a svelte size 6 with no apparent flopping skin or stretch marks. I'm thinking when someone drops weight quickly they would have skin hanging on them like wax drippings on the candle you left lit too long. I like to pretend that woman could be me sans drippy skin content. Sadly, I have a fear of commitment that clearly includes committing to myself. That being said, I haven't

You be the judge

I just flicked on the radio and the song "Not Meant To Be" by Theory of a Dead Man was playing. I've heard the song before and I've also seen the tail end of the video to find American Idol useless fourth judge Kara DioGuardi is featured in the vid. What struck me interesting is that I thought what I was hearing was that shittastic song DioGuardi co-wrote for the Idol finalists to sing and ultimately record (for the winner). She should "apologize" to Kris Allen for making that his first release. Maybe I'm totally off base, but I did think it. Maybe it's the Adam Lambert version that sounds more like Theory of a Dead Man since his take on it was heavier on the rock. Still sucked. So what is DioGuardi doing in that Dead Man video? Is she shtuping the lead singer? I could look it up on Google, but I have to take a shower.

And the award goes to ....

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I took today off in order to meet with Mancub's IEP (Individualized Education Program) team. This is where we discuss his accomplishments and also determine if and what services, special accommodations need to be made for the following school year. He's done exceedingly well. In fact, it's almost embarrassing to hear all the praise for my son. He has had his trials and tribulations in dealing with classmates, but for the most part he has held his own. Mancub's social worker and the school district psychologist were present. I was asked a series of questions and invited to address any concerns I have about his transition from 8th grade to 9th. He'll be in a new school. The bonus is that his junior high school and high school are identical building design. He'll benefit greatly in not having to learn a new landscape. There is little concern over his academics. In her quest for insight, the psychologist gave Mancub various tests for reading, math, compreh

This is probably TMI

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I'm not one for keeping an immaculate home. I grew up in a house that was clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be lived in ... or something along that vein. I tend to avoid cleaning beyond the regular chores of washing dishes and laundering our clothing. I know our cats turn the countertops into their own stage. Because I have visions of the two cats doing their strippers on crack routines on the counters, I keep anti-bacterial spray on hand at all times. What I'm confessing to is not getting into the nitty gritty of cleaning on a weekly basis. In fact, if it comes twice a year I consider it OCD. I have a distinct recollection of my mother only cleaning our kitchen floor by means of scrubbing it on hands and knees. That is drilled into my head as the only way to truly get the floor clean. I own a Swiffer Wet-Jet, but that thing doesn't really get the floor clean in my opinion. I use it between times when I break down and get on all fours to scrub the kit

Precious and few

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Our sweet little Silver found comfort on my lap this morning. Moments like that are very rare. Mancub is still in bed; therefore, not able to provide a warm lap for her to snooze upon. Desperate times call for desperate measures. That's where I come in. Silvy will only hop on my lap when her boy isn't available. I'll take it! She was purring and needling my cellulite riddled thighs with her front claws. Gritting through the pain I gently petted her teeny little body. And who knows, maybe she'll help reduce the unsightly indentations! Through all of this monumental snuggling I endured a cheesy movie on Lifetime. I had been watching "Will and Grace." I erred when I didn't bring the remote with me to the desktop pc. With a slight lean to the left I can still see the television. On Idol nights I shifted everything so I wouldn't miss a beat or babbling moment of the judges ... eventually Silver hopped down but not before touching her nose to m

Snark isn't dead -- just ask a Pop Lifer

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Well, America has crowned its 8th Idol. The rabidly rapid thumbs of tweens, soccer moms, good old fashioned Christian folk voted for the 23 year old married boy from ... some state that isn't California or Florida. What's his name? I already forgot it. My pick from the auditions was Adam Lambert. I hoped Danny Gokey would have brought new game, but he bored me to death only to awaken me with the guttural growl-howl. See, Adam Lambert possesses that je ne sais quoi that theatre people dig. He proved that he could be the balladeer as well as the Steven Tyleresque rock wailer. I'm not comparing him to rock gods like Steven and surely not Freddie Mercury. Molds were broken when those men were created. However, along the same vein, I believe Glambert will etch himself in similar "rock." Kris Allen (see, I do remember his name, but I wouldn't had he not wooed the fastest texters in the west.) Kris is mister middle of the road. He's a good kid with a good

I'll tumble for ya

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Mancub has a new bike. What's not known is that he never learned how to ride a bike when he was little. I can't make excuses for my poor parenting. It just never happened. We bought him a bike with training wheels when he was 4 or 5. At that point his father and I were still married. We had a home in a new neighborhood set out in the countryside. No sidewalks. We were lucky to have paved roads. He quickly outgrew the little bike as I outgrew the marriage. The divorce occurred and I moved to a little house that sat about 20 feet off the highway. Nothing but pasture surrounded us out back. Mancub won a bicycle at the local gas station that held a contest with Slurpee Dog or some such. It sat on our porch undisturbed with little riding. Between my job and shuffling the boy to and from his dad's, which was a round trip of 1.5 hours, where was there time for bike lessons? His dad lived in an area without sidewalks, too. Let's just say Mancub learning to ride

Sunday Shake Down

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We're nearing the big day for RELAY FOR LIFE . Our fabulous team, which is celebrating its 2nd anniversary of existence, Hunger for a Cure , is scrambling for more donations. That's where you all come in. I know it's really hard to make ends meet. You're not alone. I am not going to make you feel guilty for blowing your hard earned cash on the "as seen on TV" products I shared in yesterday's comical post. I know the temptation is just too hard to resist. However, you must. Instead, I need you to click the photo to the right. It will take you to my champion page. Donation amounts don't have to be huge. Five. Five Dollar. Five Dollar ... skip the Subway sandwich. Make it yourself and give The American Cancer Society your money instead. The people you see posing with our amazing banner (it was the biggest in the parade) are my sister Maureen (who is a cancer patient) and her son Justin. Justin is currently a sophomore in high school. He'

As seen on TV -- Saturday sickness

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I don't like being yelled at by Billy Mays. The products he's hawking are obviously so amazing that it makes it impossible to CONTROL THE VOLUME OF HIS VOICE!!! (Thanks Austin Powers movie.) Then there's that creepy squinty in just one eye dude who got arrested for something perverse -- the guy who sells SHAMWOW! I have heard that's a decent product, but make sure it has GERMANY stamped on the label of it's not the original (or something like that). What's equally annoying are the fitness info-mercials. They show a woman twice my size who has dwindled down to a petite size 4 solely by using the fitness program being sold. I've ordered some of those fitness scams and there is NO WAY that large Marge woman got down and did the push-ups and goofy as hell body manipulations as done on the DVD. No. F-ing. Way! "I never exercised a day in my life and now I am a fit 57-young! I walk by construction sites and get the wolf-calls galore." I scream BULL!

Time flies and feathers don't make you sexy

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Hey! Wow! It's been nearly a week since I sat down to write something. Man!I suck donkey hooves. After such an amazing Mother's Day you'd think I'd be walking on cloud 9, but alas, I slipped into a state of malaise. I couldn't put my finger on why I'd feel so sad. The weather has been less than agreeable. Springtime in the Midwest is often a dreary state. We get so much rain. Nothing says welcome to summer like feeding the mosquito nests with lots and lots of stagnate water. Seriously, the ducks and geese are calling the fields near my house home. They are confused and will soon learn that the mass quantities of water are NOT newly formed ponds. I had intentions of attending my niece Elyssa's college graduation ceremony today. As I said, I've been under the weather and stricken with a case of the blues. Physically I felt drained and my body ached. It felt as if I had 10 pound weights strapped to my ankles. Last night I turned to Therafl

What a mug!

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I mentioned in my "Mother's Day" post that it was certain that Mancub hadn't realized it was a special day. Granted, he makes every day special, but for Hallmarkian purposes this day would go unnoticed ... or so I thought. Shortly after posting the aforementioned blog item, I let Mancub know we were heading out to buy plants to put in the pots on the front porch. I was still in my pajamas and taking my time. It's not often that I'll be standing at the door with purse in hand still waiting after giving him at least an hour's notice that I wanted to get out of the house (and that he'd be accompanying me). Today made me feel like I'd been stuck in a time warp. I sat at the computer fiddling around thinking I had scads of time to waste before jumping in the shower. Boy, was I mistaken! Mancub had gone upstairs and came down fully dressed! He'd immediately made tracks to the bathroom to brush hi s hair and comb his hair. He emerged from his be

Mother's Day

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Obviously if you're a mom you know 'Mother's Day' comes for us every.single.day. With each battle of the wills we get to celebrate motherhood. When he practices his ninja skills in the house and nearly destroys everything breakable in his path, you declare unconditional love. Then, wander off to silently weep and cry out, "where did he come from!?" It's no surprise that my son, who is currently camped out on the love seat playing a video game, has no idea that today is Mother's Day. I am not going to bother reminding him. He's 14 and he's sincerely a wonderful boy. I get a celebration every time he gives me an unsolicited hug or does a chore without being reminded. In addition, the kid can make me laugh when I least expect it. Formality needn't be the course of today. One thing I absolutely wish for is more vivid memories of my own mother who passed away in 1981. I was 15, but my memories are more like snapshots. I remember incide

Love you forever revisited

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This image represents a Mother's Day gone by. Mancub bought this plant pik for me a couple of years ago at the dollar store. I don't have a green thumb, but this weathered dragonfly continues to adorn our front porch. Regardless of the season, it's there to remind me how the simplest gestures can stand the test of time. My refrigerator and the wall my desk faces is speckled with artistic interpretations expressing Mancub's love for me. Some of them are on lined paper while others have made it on to colored construction paper. What's most touching is that most were made for out of the blue reasons. While Mother's Day is a lovely calendar reminder to appreciate she who gives us all life, I rejoice in a mother's day every day. Mancub still lets me tuck him in at night and give him a smooch. Sometimes he turns his head so I hit his cheek. Other times he'll offer his forehead for night time kiss placement. In the course of a day he'll walk up to m

Tomorrow ! Tomorrow! I'll blog something tomorrow

Seriously, I have no idea where my head has been. I'll write something on Thursday. I'm off work. Yea!

Can you read this?

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Riding into freedom

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There's so much to tell. In a previous post I had shared with you that my ex-husband, Mancub's father, wanted to purchase a bicycle for him. Sadly, his dad lost one of his part-time jobs and his finances have suffered. Having discussed in his social studies class the financial crisis our country is experiencing, he quickly accepted the situation and offered a sympathetic word of reassurance that he understood. That's my boy. Who's raising this amazing young man? Wow! Go on. You can say it. Wow! With the best of intentions I told Mancub that I'd find the means to buy him a bike. Summer is quickly approaching and I want him to be able to bask in the sunshine rather than always laying on the couch making time with Cartoon Network and various video games. A trip to the dentist killed any hopes of me buying the 2-wheeled entertainment center. A crown needed to be replaced. Even with insurance it would cost me a cool $600.00. Holy SHIT! Go on. you can say. HOLY S

Sometimes I wonder ...

1980 -- FAME! This movie basically encompassed my high school days. It managed to say everything I felt about my love of music and singing. It saddens me that it might be bastardized with a remake. Stop screwing with the originals!! Leave my fondest memories alone, would ya? News of this remake has left me on reminiscing plaza. Take a walk with me, will you? Being a child of a musical family, I was destined to embrace the arts. Due to financial restrictions (and lack of motivation) I didn't learn to play piano. I took lessons for about nine months, but they were with a neighborhood lady. I was either a dreadful student or she was slow on the uptake. My friends who'd been in lessons for the same amount of time were excelling and I grew frustrated. With frustration comes defeat. At least to me it takes on that role. I quit. I also quit gymnastics because I was placed in an accelerated class with girls older than me. I wanted to be with my friends. Rather than embrace my