Got things that annoy you? List away! Here are the things that are currently annoying me:
All these award ceremonies for celebrities. It just seems like a waste of money. I get having one or two, but anymore than that is ridiculous.
Dogs that constantly bark. People, if you hear your pet going nuts, bring it in. Sure, it might annoy you inside, but you made the choice to have a pet, therefore you get to listen to it spaz out.
Charlie Sheen.
Parenting magazines. They usually make me feel guilty seeing as my kids watch more than two hours of TV, eat non-organic food, and I buy cleaning products with lots of toxins.
People who write the word “da” for “the.” I see teens do it a lot on Facebook and it makes my head spin. I just want to correct their spelling. Parents, if you see your teen doing this, CORRECT THEM for the love of chocolate.
Cliffhangers at the end of a television series. I’m not patient, I don’t want to have to wait all summer to find out if someone really croaked or not.
Whole grain pasta. It tastes like what I imagine a soggy cardboard box would taste like. Sauce does not help it. Butter does not help it. It’s just bad, bad, bad. I’ll take the real stuff.
Rich people food. I don’t understand it. Everything is tiny and made with funky things like duck eggs. I’m fine with a regular steak and fries.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
My Dear Letters
Here are a some letters I wish I could send....
-----------
Dear Natalie,
Yes, I know you love the movie Tangled and was thrilled to see that they now make fruit snacks with characters from the movie. But darling, please don’t ever shout “TANGLED!” in the middle of the store again. You scared me to death. You know you have a jumpy mother.
Signed,
A-Very-Jittery,
Amber
---------------------
Dear Snow,
Go away.
Signed,
A-Not-A-Fan-Of-Shoveling-It,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Tommy,
No more Justin Bieber songs, okay? If you start singing that awful baby song again, I’m going to lose it. Remember, we only listen to quality music in this house.
Signed,
A-Not-A-Bieliber,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Gas Prices,
Stop rising! I may have a hybrid, but still. My husband has a gas guzzling truck. This nonsense about gas being $4.00 a gallon by the summer does not amuse me.
Signed,
A-Would-Like-To-Have-Money-Leftover-For-Fun-Summery-Stuff,
Amber
-------------------
Dear People Who Still Refuse To Use Their Turn Signals,
Why? Seriously, why? Is it really that difficult to flick your wrist to show other cars what you are doing? It takes less than a second.
Signed,
A-You-Do-Know-You-Annoy-Everyone-On-The-Road-By-NOT-Using-Your-Signal,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Grey’s Anatomy,
I hear there will be a musical episode coming up? Why? I think I’ll be passing on that episode because watching McDreamy singing about aneurysms and heart attacks? Not my idea of fun. However, if it were John Krasinski....
Signed,
If-I-Want-To-Watch-People-Break-Out-Into-Song-I’d-Watch-Glee,
Amber
------------------
Dear Words With Friends,
Stop giving me all vowels. Or no vowels. It’s rude. I’d like a nice variety, thanks, so the person I’m playing against doesn’t think I’m a moron who can only spell words like “egg” or “ion.”
Signed,
An-I-Really-Can-Spell-Bigger-Words,
Amber
------------------
Dear syndicated Sex and the City episodes on E!,
You are not the same. I repeat: you are NOT the same. The show needs profanity and simulated sex scenes in order to be believable. Or maybe that’s just for my perverted mind.
Signed,
A-Missing-My-Husband-And-Sex-Scenes-Are-All-I-Currently-Have,
Amber
-----------
Dear Natalie,
Yes, I know you love the movie Tangled and was thrilled to see that they now make fruit snacks with characters from the movie. But darling, please don’t ever shout “TANGLED!” in the middle of the store again. You scared me to death. You know you have a jumpy mother.
Signed,
A-Very-Jittery,
Amber
---------------------
Dear Snow,
Go away.
Signed,
A-Not-A-Fan-Of-Shoveling-It,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Tommy,
No more Justin Bieber songs, okay? If you start singing that awful baby song again, I’m going to lose it. Remember, we only listen to quality music in this house.
Signed,
A-Not-A-Bieliber,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Gas Prices,
Stop rising! I may have a hybrid, but still. My husband has a gas guzzling truck. This nonsense about gas being $4.00 a gallon by the summer does not amuse me.
Signed,
A-Would-Like-To-Have-Money-Leftover-For-Fun-Summery-Stuff,
Amber
-------------------
Dear People Who Still Refuse To Use Their Turn Signals,
Why? Seriously, why? Is it really that difficult to flick your wrist to show other cars what you are doing? It takes less than a second.
Signed,
A-You-Do-Know-You-Annoy-Everyone-On-The-Road-By-NOT-Using-Your-Signal,
Amber
-------------------
Dear Grey’s Anatomy,
I hear there will be a musical episode coming up? Why? I think I’ll be passing on that episode because watching McDreamy singing about aneurysms and heart attacks? Not my idea of fun. However, if it were John Krasinski....
Signed,
If-I-Want-To-Watch-People-Break-Out-Into-Song-I’d-Watch-Glee,
Amber
------------------
Dear Words With Friends,
Stop giving me all vowels. Or no vowels. It’s rude. I’d like a nice variety, thanks, so the person I’m playing against doesn’t think I’m a moron who can only spell words like “egg” or “ion.”
Signed,
An-I-Really-Can-Spell-Bigger-Words,
Amber
------------------
Dear syndicated Sex and the City episodes on E!,
You are not the same. I repeat: you are NOT the same. The show needs profanity and simulated sex scenes in order to be believable. Or maybe that’s just for my perverted mind.
Signed,
A-Missing-My-Husband-And-Sex-Scenes-Are-All-I-Currently-Have,
Amber
Thursday, February 24, 2011
It Has Returned
It’s back.
It’s finally back.
After waiting many, many months it has returned.
The Shamrock Shake.
And yes, it warrants being capitalized.
I waited patiently for it.
Actually, wait, no, not patiently. See, McDonalds had promised that they’d have The Shamrock Shake on February 17th. My friend even went out to get us one.
Guess what?
There were no Shamrock Shakes on the 17th. In fact, McDonalds seemed confused on what my friend was even asking from them.
So we had to wait.
And wait.
I’m being dramatic. We didn’t have to wait that long.
By Monday, The Shamrock Shakes were on the menu. When I went to collect my delicious green treat, I said to the worker, “Isn’t it exciting that these are back?”
“Huh?” he blinked at me.
“The Shamrock Shakes. Isn’t it exciting that these are—” He continued to stare blankly at me. “Never mind.”
My Shamrock Shake was amazing. If you’ve never tried one, you must. Unless you don’t like minty goodness. In which case, you’re a weirdo.
I’m kidding. (Sort of.)
So, have you had a Shamrock Shake yet?
It’s finally back.
After waiting many, many months it has returned.
The Shamrock Shake.
And yes, it warrants being capitalized.
I waited patiently for it.
Actually, wait, no, not patiently. See, McDonalds had promised that they’d have The Shamrock Shake on February 17th. My friend even went out to get us one.
Guess what?
There were no Shamrock Shakes on the 17th. In fact, McDonalds seemed confused on what my friend was even asking from them.
So we had to wait.
And wait.
I’m being dramatic. We didn’t have to wait that long.
By Monday, The Shamrock Shakes were on the menu. When I went to collect my delicious green treat, I said to the worker, “Isn’t it exciting that these are back?”
“Huh?” he blinked at me.
“The Shamrock Shakes. Isn’t it exciting that these are—” He continued to stare blankly at me. “Never mind.”
My Shamrock Shake was amazing. If you’ve never tried one, you must. Unless you don’t like minty goodness. In which case, you’re a weirdo.
I’m kidding. (Sort of.)
So, have you had a Shamrock Shake yet?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Hi. I'm Amber. I Spill Stuff.
I knew I should stop.
But I just couldn’t.
They were just so good.
“Geez, Mommy, you’re a pig,” Tommy observed, breaking my euphoria.
A pig? Excuse me? I most certainly wasn’t a…I mean, okay, so I inhaled 3 Texas Roadhouse rolls at lightening speed. But that’s only because they taste the best warm.
“It’s not nice to call people pigs,” I reminded Tommy as I slathered the delicious cinnamon honey butter on my roll.
“I know but…you ate all the rolls. I only got one,” Tommy pouted.
“We’ll get more,” I promised. At that moment, the waitress came over. She was terribly skinny and made me think that she’s never had a carb a day in her life.
“We need more rolls because my Mom ate them all,” Tommy said accusingly.
I wanted to disappear. The waitress smiled politely at me.
“The rolls are fabulous,” I offered weakly. She probably didn’t know. She looked like she wore a 00 size. I always get the ultra skinny waitresses serving me. It’s like Jillian Michaels is watching me and sending out waifs to remind me of what I could look like if I didn’t eat so much junk. Sorry Jillian Michaels. If I didn’t have my fatty foods, I’d be horribly cranky.
“I’ll bring more rolls,” the waitress assured us. “What can I get you to drink?”
I ordered a sweet tea. After she left to get our drinks, Natalie smiled up at me.
“Mommy,” she said. “You look like Toodee.”
Aww, wasn’t that sweet. She thought I looked like Toodee from Yo Gabba Gabba. Only…wait, Toodee was blue. With fangs.
“Natalie,” I said. “When you said I looked like Toodee, what exactly did you mean by that?”
Natalie was already focused on something else. She was busy coloring on her Texas Roadhouse kids menu.
“Natalie?” I tried again. Oh, what was the use? Trying to get three-year-olds to explain themselves is like hoping the Kardashians will go away: it’s just not gonna happen. So fine, my daughter thought I looked like a blue rabid looking creature and my son thought I was a pig. Neat.
The waitress brought more rolls and our drinks. She took our food orders and then left. Tommy quickly swiped a roll—what, did he think I’d grab them all and stuff them in my mouth? Probably.
I took a few gulps of sweet tea. Ahh, that’s the stuff. Then I reached for another roll.
And then I proceeded to knock my sweet tea over. The liquid spilled over the table and dripped onto the floor.
“The rolls!” Tommy yelled, picking them up.
If I hadn’t been so embarrassed, I’d have been proud.
Sometimes I feel like I spill stuff more than the kids. I am such a klutz. I feel I invented the whole walking into the glass door thing that’s done so often in movies. Some big shot movie producer probably witnessed me doing that and was like, “Sweet. Great comical moment.”
I started cleaning up my mess while Tommy just chewed on his rolls and Natalie continued to color even though most of her paper was now wet.
“It’s okay, keep doing what you are doing,” I said sarcastically. “I can handle this. It’s not like I don’t clean up your messes daily.”
“Everything okay?” our waitress asks. She saw the spilled drink. “Oh, oops. I’ll be back with some paper towels.”
I managed to clean up my mess and the waitress got me a fresh sweet tea.
“Don’t spill that one,” Tommy said.
Oh, har-de-har-har.
But I just couldn’t.
They were just so good.
“Geez, Mommy, you’re a pig,” Tommy observed, breaking my euphoria.
A pig? Excuse me? I most certainly wasn’t a…I mean, okay, so I inhaled 3 Texas Roadhouse rolls at lightening speed. But that’s only because they taste the best warm.
“It’s not nice to call people pigs,” I reminded Tommy as I slathered the delicious cinnamon honey butter on my roll.
“I know but…you ate all the rolls. I only got one,” Tommy pouted.
“We’ll get more,” I promised. At that moment, the waitress came over. She was terribly skinny and made me think that she’s never had a carb a day in her life.
“We need more rolls because my Mom ate them all,” Tommy said accusingly.
I wanted to disappear. The waitress smiled politely at me.
“The rolls are fabulous,” I offered weakly. She probably didn’t know. She looked like she wore a 00 size. I always get the ultra skinny waitresses serving me. It’s like Jillian Michaels is watching me and sending out waifs to remind me of what I could look like if I didn’t eat so much junk. Sorry Jillian Michaels. If I didn’t have my fatty foods, I’d be horribly cranky.
“I’ll bring more rolls,” the waitress assured us. “What can I get you to drink?”
I ordered a sweet tea. After she left to get our drinks, Natalie smiled up at me.
“Mommy,” she said. “You look like Toodee.”
Aww, wasn’t that sweet. She thought I looked like Toodee from Yo Gabba Gabba. Only…wait, Toodee was blue. With fangs.
“Natalie,” I said. “When you said I looked like Toodee, what exactly did you mean by that?”
Natalie was already focused on something else. She was busy coloring on her Texas Roadhouse kids menu.
“Natalie?” I tried again. Oh, what was the use? Trying to get three-year-olds to explain themselves is like hoping the Kardashians will go away: it’s just not gonna happen. So fine, my daughter thought I looked like a blue rabid looking creature and my son thought I was a pig. Neat.
The waitress brought more rolls and our drinks. She took our food orders and then left. Tommy quickly swiped a roll—what, did he think I’d grab them all and stuff them in my mouth? Probably.
I took a few gulps of sweet tea. Ahh, that’s the stuff. Then I reached for another roll.
And then I proceeded to knock my sweet tea over. The liquid spilled over the table and dripped onto the floor.
“The rolls!” Tommy yelled, picking them up.
If I hadn’t been so embarrassed, I’d have been proud.
Sometimes I feel like I spill stuff more than the kids. I am such a klutz. I feel I invented the whole walking into the glass door thing that’s done so often in movies. Some big shot movie producer probably witnessed me doing that and was like, “Sweet. Great comical moment.”
I started cleaning up my mess while Tommy just chewed on his rolls and Natalie continued to color even though most of her paper was now wet.
“It’s okay, keep doing what you are doing,” I said sarcastically. “I can handle this. It’s not like I don’t clean up your messes daily.”
“Everything okay?” our waitress asks. She saw the spilled drink. “Oh, oops. I’ll be back with some paper towels.”
I managed to clean up my mess and the waitress got me a fresh sweet tea.
“Don’t spill that one,” Tommy said.
Oh, har-de-har-har.
Life As We Know It Winners
Thank you all for entering the Life As We Know It giveaway! I let the kids pull out the winning numbers. Winners, I will be contacting you so please get back quickly to me with your address so the company can get your prizes out ASAP! I’m not the one sending the items out, the company is, you see.
If you didn’t win its okay, try again, I’ll be having more giveaways in the future.
So without further ado, the winners are (and please excuse my children’s baffled expressions, apparently asking them to pull a piece of paper out of a bowl is confusing..)
43 Sammie! You win the DVD!
And 82 Angelia! You win the Soundtrack!
Congrats, guys!
If you didn’t win its okay, try again, I’ll be having more giveaways in the future.
So without further ado, the winners are (and please excuse my children’s baffled expressions, apparently asking them to pull a piece of paper out of a bowl is confusing..)
43 Sammie! You win the DVD!
And 82 Angelia! You win the Soundtrack!
Congrats, guys!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.
----------------------
To not understand why women go for the bad boys. I want someone who treats me with respect.
To hate when parents constantly go on about how advanced their child is. More often than not, they aren’t.
To not like when shows replace an actor and expect the audience not to notice. I’m talking to you, Big Love, replacing the actress who played Teeny. That’s distracting and now all I can think is, “What happened to the original girl?”
To still be upset that Flash Forward was cancelled. I was WATCHING that.
To hate when I buy chocolates and they aren’t labeled. I need to know what I’m biting into, people.
To have been shocked while watching a show on TLC called Outrageous Kid Parties. One woman forked over $32,000 when her daughter turned 6. That’s more than the cost of my car.
To know what Friends episode it is after only two seconds of watching.
To think the new season of Survivor looks like it’ll be a good one.
To think celebrities must be joking when they insist they have fruit with plain oatmeal for breakfast and eat only fish and chicken for dinner. That sounds like a boring life indeed.
To rarely make my bed. I honestly don’t see the point.
----------------------
To not understand why women go for the bad boys. I want someone who treats me with respect.
To hate when parents constantly go on about how advanced their child is. More often than not, they aren’t.
To not like when shows replace an actor and expect the audience not to notice. I’m talking to you, Big Love, replacing the actress who played Teeny. That’s distracting and now all I can think is, “What happened to the original girl?”
To still be upset that Flash Forward was cancelled. I was WATCHING that.
To hate when I buy chocolates and they aren’t labeled. I need to know what I’m biting into, people.
To have been shocked while watching a show on TLC called Outrageous Kid Parties. One woman forked over $32,000 when her daughter turned 6. That’s more than the cost of my car.
To know what Friends episode it is after only two seconds of watching.
To think the new season of Survivor looks like it’ll be a good one.
To think celebrities must be joking when they insist they have fruit with plain oatmeal for breakfast and eat only fish and chicken for dinner. That sounds like a boring life indeed.
To rarely make my bed. I honestly don’t see the point.
Monday, February 21, 2011
I Love You. Most Ardently.
“I love you,” I said to Tom as we talked on Skype. “Most ardently.”
I thought he’d be moved. Instead he went, “What did you call me?”
I sighed. This is why it’s hard to be married to a man who doesn’t like to read. “I said ‘I love you. Most ardently.’”
“Did you make that up?” Tom stuffed M&Ms into his mouth. He’s obsessed with the candies.
“No, I didn’t make it up,” I replied. “It’s from Pride and Prejudice.”
I expected Tom to nod. I mean, hasn’t everyone heard of Pride and Prejudice? Instead he just chewed on his M&Ms and waited.
“Pride and Prejudice,” I repeated.
“Sounds awful,” Tom finally answered.
If things aren’t blowing up, he’s not interested.
“Mr. Darcy says it to Elizabeth and I think—” I begin.
“What kind of name is Mr. Darcy?” Tom interrupted.
“I don’t know. Ask Jane Austen. Only you can’t, because she’s, you know, dead. Anyway,” I pressed on. “I’ve always wanted someone to say that they loved me. Most ardently.”
Tom shook his head. “I’m not doing it.”
“Why not?” I demanded. Honestly, it’s not like I ask a lot from him. I only request simple things: such as dressing up as Henry VIII on Halloween (he won’t, he says there is no way in hell he’s wearing tights), taking ballroom dancing lessons (he’d rather kiss a toilet), and saying romantic things. Like I love you. Most ardently.
“I won’t say it because first of all, I already forgot the word,” Tom admitted. “Absently, was it?”
He’s lucky he’s in Korea. Otherwise I’d have conked him over the head. I find it amusing that he can remember all of Megan Fox’s films but he can’t recall a simple word.
“Ardently,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” Tom said. “Second, I won’t say it because if I did, I’d have to beat myself up.”
“It’s okay to show emotions,” I snapped.
“True. But not that way,” Tom insisted.
“Well, fine. I love you. Most ardently.”
“Great. And I just love you.”
I thought he’d be moved. Instead he went, “What did you call me?”
I sighed. This is why it’s hard to be married to a man who doesn’t like to read. “I said ‘I love you. Most ardently.’”
“Did you make that up?” Tom stuffed M&Ms into his mouth. He’s obsessed with the candies.
“No, I didn’t make it up,” I replied. “It’s from Pride and Prejudice.”
I expected Tom to nod. I mean, hasn’t everyone heard of Pride and Prejudice? Instead he just chewed on his M&Ms and waited.
“Pride and Prejudice,” I repeated.
“Sounds awful,” Tom finally answered.
If things aren’t blowing up, he’s not interested.
“Mr. Darcy says it to Elizabeth and I think—” I begin.
“What kind of name is Mr. Darcy?” Tom interrupted.
“I don’t know. Ask Jane Austen. Only you can’t, because she’s, you know, dead. Anyway,” I pressed on. “I’ve always wanted someone to say that they loved me. Most ardently.”
Tom shook his head. “I’m not doing it.”
“Why not?” I demanded. Honestly, it’s not like I ask a lot from him. I only request simple things: such as dressing up as Henry VIII on Halloween (he won’t, he says there is no way in hell he’s wearing tights), taking ballroom dancing lessons (he’d rather kiss a toilet), and saying romantic things. Like I love you. Most ardently.
“I won’t say it because first of all, I already forgot the word,” Tom admitted. “Absently, was it?”
He’s lucky he’s in Korea. Otherwise I’d have conked him over the head. I find it amusing that he can remember all of Megan Fox’s films but he can’t recall a simple word.
“Ardently,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” Tom said. “Second, I won’t say it because if I did, I’d have to beat myself up.”
“It’s okay to show emotions,” I snapped.
“True. But not that way,” Tom insisted.
“Well, fine. I love you. Most ardently.”
“Great. And I just love you.”
Friday, February 18, 2011
Ten Questions A Parent Hopes To Never Ask
10. What did you stick up your sister's nose?
9. What do you mean you got sick all over your bed?
8. Did you cut your hair?
7. Why does it smell like poop in here?
6. You have 5 pages of math homework due tomorrow?
5. What do you mean I have to bring in 100 cupcakes by tomorrow?
4. Did you really curse in front of the teacher?
3. You want to have a Justin Bieber/Twilight/Jonas Brother themed party?
2. You do realize that you can’t go around calling boys penises even though they may have one, right? It’s what they HAVE. It’s not who they ARE.
1. Who ate all my chocolate?
9. What do you mean you got sick all over your bed?
8. Did you cut your hair?
7. Why does it smell like poop in here?
6. You have 5 pages of math homework due tomorrow?
5. What do you mean I have to bring in 100 cupcakes by tomorrow?
4. Did you really curse in front of the teacher?
3. You want to have a Justin Bieber/Twilight/Jonas Brother themed party?
2. You do realize that you can’t go around calling boys penises even though they may have one, right? It’s what they HAVE. It’s not who they ARE.
1. Who ate all my chocolate?
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Cleaning Cars
“I’m concerned,” Tom said as we talked on Skype.
Crap. He must’ve seen the charge for when I went to Wal-Mart. It’s just, I can’t seem to only buy a few items when I go there. I go down the food aisle and think, mmm, that looks tasty. Then I’m in the movie section and I’m like, “Ooo, great movie, I haven’t seen this in ages!” Suddenly I’m in book section and I’m all, “I could use a book to read.”
Basically, it means that I spend more than I intended.
“I can explain,” I answered. “I saw the box of Fruity Pebbles treats and had to try them. I mean, Tom, it’s Fruity Pebbles…in the shape of a BAR. Sort of like Rice Krispy Treats but in Fruity Pebbles form. Anyhow, after I got those, it went downhill from there. I found all sorts of deals and—”
“What are you talking about?” Tom interrupted.
I blinked. “I thought we were talking about the Wal-Mart charge.”
Tom shook his head. “No. I was referring to the e-mail you sent me. The one where you jokingly referred to the car as no longer blue but brown and white because you haven’t had it washed in forever?”
Oh. That. I ramble about all sorts of things in e-mails and might have mentioned the dirty car.
Wait, why was Tom talking about the dirty car?
“Yes?” I pressed.
Tom sighed. “When was the last time you had it washed?”
Since he left in August.
I didn’t tell him this though. I didn’t want him to fall out of his chair.
“Er...it’s been a few months,” I fibbed.
“You do know that all the crap they put on the road can erode the paint on the vehicle over time. Amber, knock it off, stop mimicking me, I’m serious,” Tom snapped.
I sort of mouthed the whole eroding paint bit with him. He says that all the time. Tom is a bit obsessive with washing his truck. He cannot stand a messy vehicle. And when Tom washed the truck, he didn’t half-ass it. He has wax and special cleaning crap and he even scrubs down the tires. The tires!
His truck is like the other love in his life. The only reason he washed my car along with it was because he couldn’t stand to see a messy car beside his precious baby.
I mean, the horror.
“Please tell me you’ll wash your car,” Tom said.
“Fine. It’s 60 today so I’ll do it. Happy?”
“Yes, and you will be too when you have a clean car again.”
Sure, whatevs. So long as the car works, I’m fine with it.
Still, I decided to clean the car just in case Tom asked for a picture. I wouldn’t put it past him. (And I don’t have to worry about his truck. His Mom has it since I don’t drive trucks.)
This is the before picture:
And this is the after. With Natalie running around in her underwear. She had just consumed a Fun Dip.
Close up! (And no, I didn’t use any special wax. I just washed it with the hose.)
I sent Tom an e-mail with that photo saying, “Happy, you brat?”
(He was. Probably more than a normal person would be. I’m tempted to cover the car with mud when he returns to see if he’ll pass out from shock.)
Crap. He must’ve seen the charge for when I went to Wal-Mart. It’s just, I can’t seem to only buy a few items when I go there. I go down the food aisle and think, mmm, that looks tasty. Then I’m in the movie section and I’m like, “Ooo, great movie, I haven’t seen this in ages!” Suddenly I’m in book section and I’m all, “I could use a book to read.”
Basically, it means that I spend more than I intended.
“I can explain,” I answered. “I saw the box of Fruity Pebbles treats and had to try them. I mean, Tom, it’s Fruity Pebbles…in the shape of a BAR. Sort of like Rice Krispy Treats but in Fruity Pebbles form. Anyhow, after I got those, it went downhill from there. I found all sorts of deals and—”
“What are you talking about?” Tom interrupted.
I blinked. “I thought we were talking about the Wal-Mart charge.”
Tom shook his head. “No. I was referring to the e-mail you sent me. The one where you jokingly referred to the car as no longer blue but brown and white because you haven’t had it washed in forever?”
Oh. That. I ramble about all sorts of things in e-mails and might have mentioned the dirty car.
Wait, why was Tom talking about the dirty car?
“Yes?” I pressed.
Tom sighed. “When was the last time you had it washed?”
Since he left in August.
I didn’t tell him this though. I didn’t want him to fall out of his chair.
“Er...it’s been a few months,” I fibbed.
“You do know that all the crap they put on the road can erode the paint on the vehicle over time. Amber, knock it off, stop mimicking me, I’m serious,” Tom snapped.
I sort of mouthed the whole eroding paint bit with him. He says that all the time. Tom is a bit obsessive with washing his truck. He cannot stand a messy vehicle. And when Tom washed the truck, he didn’t half-ass it. He has wax and special cleaning crap and he even scrubs down the tires. The tires!
His truck is like the other love in his life. The only reason he washed my car along with it was because he couldn’t stand to see a messy car beside his precious baby.
I mean, the horror.
“Please tell me you’ll wash your car,” Tom said.
“Fine. It’s 60 today so I’ll do it. Happy?”
“Yes, and you will be too when you have a clean car again.”
Sure, whatevs. So long as the car works, I’m fine with it.
Still, I decided to clean the car just in case Tom asked for a picture. I wouldn’t put it past him. (And I don’t have to worry about his truck. His Mom has it since I don’t drive trucks.)
This is the before picture:
And this is the after. With Natalie running around in her underwear. She had just consumed a Fun Dip.
Close up! (And no, I didn’t use any special wax. I just washed it with the hose.)
I sent Tom an e-mail with that photo saying, “Happy, you brat?”
(He was. Probably more than a normal person would be. I’m tempted to cover the car with mud when he returns to see if he’ll pass out from shock.)
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Girls Renaissance Costume Review
I always loved dressing up as a kid.
This is why I was excited when the people at Costume Super Center contacted me and asked if I would review a costume. I debated getting one for myself—then I realized that my kids are cuter on camera and opted to choose something for my daughter. (My son is still in the stage where he just wants pictures of his butt taken.)
There were a lot of girls dress up costumes to choose from. I was impressed with all the choices. Now, most of my bloggers know that I have an infatuation with Henry VIII so I wanted to find a style that reminded me of that era. I found tons of Renaissance costumes on the site so I was pleased.
In the end, I choose this one:
A beautiful Gold & Red Queen Costume.
“Natalie,” I said when it arrived. “Want to play dress up? You can be Princess Elizabeth, Anne Boleyn’s daughter. Do your remember who Anne Boleyn was?”
Natalie nodded and gripped her neck. “Ouch,” was all she’d say.
“Yup. She got her head cut off.” Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have told her that story. But I was reading a biography on Anne Boleyn and Natalie wanted to know what it was about so….I told her. Maybe I should have just said “And Henry and Anne parted ways,” and left it at that. Instead I basically said, “And Anne and her head parted ways…”
Whoops.
Anyway.
I put Natalie in the dress. I instantly loved it.
“All bow to Princess Elizabeth,” I bellowed. “You know Natalie, Princess Elizabeth became a fabulous queen. She—”
“My name is Natalie!” Natalie snapped.
“Yes, I know, we’re just pretending.”
“Call me NATALIE! Princess NATALIE!”
Fine. Excuse me.
Another thing Natalie liked about the costume? It came with the crown and scepter. A lot of costumes you have to buy those separate. Natalie kept using the scepter as a magic wand.
“I turn you into a frog,” she told me primly.
“Okay. But who is going to make dinner tonight then?” I wanted to know.
Natalie ignored me. If she had her way, the following things would have been turned into a frog: me, our house, my car, the grass, the neighbor’s dog…
I gave Natalie a special book to flip through. I felt it was fitting.
Natalie read all about beheadings, and dying from childbirth and more beheadings…
She’s all, “Holy crap, Henry keeps thinking that he’s in love and then it ALL GOES TERRIBLY WRONG!”
After some light reading, I tried to teach her to curtsy.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to curtsy to your mother?” I asked her.
“I don’t like to curtsy,” she informed me. “And call me Your Majesty.”
Oops. It’s all gone to her head.
**I did not get any monetary compensation for this review I was just supplied with the costume. The opinions are my own.**
This is why I was excited when the people at Costume Super Center contacted me and asked if I would review a costume. I debated getting one for myself—then I realized that my kids are cuter on camera and opted to choose something for my daughter. (My son is still in the stage where he just wants pictures of his butt taken.)
There were a lot of girls dress up costumes to choose from. I was impressed with all the choices. Now, most of my bloggers know that I have an infatuation with Henry VIII so I wanted to find a style that reminded me of that era. I found tons of Renaissance costumes on the site so I was pleased.
In the end, I choose this one:
A beautiful Gold & Red Queen Costume.
“Natalie,” I said when it arrived. “Want to play dress up? You can be Princess Elizabeth, Anne Boleyn’s daughter. Do your remember who Anne Boleyn was?”
Natalie nodded and gripped her neck. “Ouch,” was all she’d say.
“Yup. She got her head cut off.” Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have told her that story. But I was reading a biography on Anne Boleyn and Natalie wanted to know what it was about so….I told her. Maybe I should have just said “And Henry and Anne parted ways,” and left it at that. Instead I basically said, “And Anne and her head parted ways…”
Whoops.
Anyway.
I put Natalie in the dress. I instantly loved it.
“All bow to Princess Elizabeth,” I bellowed. “You know Natalie, Princess Elizabeth became a fabulous queen. She—”
“My name is Natalie!” Natalie snapped.
“Yes, I know, we’re just pretending.”
“Call me NATALIE! Princess NATALIE!”
Fine. Excuse me.
Another thing Natalie liked about the costume? It came with the crown and scepter. A lot of costumes you have to buy those separate. Natalie kept using the scepter as a magic wand.
“I turn you into a frog,” she told me primly.
“Okay. But who is going to make dinner tonight then?” I wanted to know.
Natalie ignored me. If she had her way, the following things would have been turned into a frog: me, our house, my car, the grass, the neighbor’s dog…
I gave Natalie a special book to flip through. I felt it was fitting.
Natalie read all about beheadings, and dying from childbirth and more beheadings…
She’s all, “Holy crap, Henry keeps thinking that he’s in love and then it ALL GOES TERRIBLY WRONG!”
After some light reading, I tried to teach her to curtsy.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to curtsy to your mother?” I asked her.
“I don’t like to curtsy,” she informed me. “And call me Your Majesty.”
Oops. It’s all gone to her head.
**I did not get any monetary compensation for this review I was just supplied with the costume. The opinions are my own.**
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.
----------------------
To wonder why Natalie or Tommy feels the need to poop in the potty right after I’ve cleaned them. Tom used to do the same. Is it a marking their territory sort of thing?
To be weirded out when couples call each other “Mom” or “Dad.” My name is Amber and if my husband ever called me “Mom” I’d tell him to quit it.
To be ready for Easter treats. Like Cadbury Cream Eggs. I’ve already seen them out but they taste the best in April.
To have not watched the Grammys. I hear Lady Gaga arrived in an egg. And that Justin Bieber lost. ;) No, really, he seems like a nice kid, I just don’t think he’s talented enough to win a Grammy.
To not understand the chick on Facebook who said that she was broke but then in her next update she said she bought a new puppy. Um?
To feel mortally offended when someone outbids me at the last minute on eBay.
To be looking forward to the movie of the book Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin. It comes out in May.
To want to go back to Disney World. We went in 2008 and I so want to visit again.
To think it’s cheesy when people propose on television.
To be grateful that my kids let me sleep in until 830 on weekends. I trained them at a young age to entertain themselves in the morning because I am not a morning person. I feel like because I gave them life, then they can give me at least until 830. Only fair.
----------------------
To wonder why Natalie or Tommy feels the need to poop in the potty right after I’ve cleaned them. Tom used to do the same. Is it a marking their territory sort of thing?
To be weirded out when couples call each other “Mom” or “Dad.” My name is Amber and if my husband ever called me “Mom” I’d tell him to quit it.
To be ready for Easter treats. Like Cadbury Cream Eggs. I’ve already seen them out but they taste the best in April.
To have not watched the Grammys. I hear Lady Gaga arrived in an egg. And that Justin Bieber lost. ;) No, really, he seems like a nice kid, I just don’t think he’s talented enough to win a Grammy.
To not understand the chick on Facebook who said that she was broke but then in her next update she said she bought a new puppy. Um?
To feel mortally offended when someone outbids me at the last minute on eBay.
To be looking forward to the movie of the book Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin. It comes out in May.
To want to go back to Disney World. We went in 2008 and I so want to visit again.
To think it’s cheesy when people propose on television.
To be grateful that my kids let me sleep in until 830 on weekends. I trained them at a young age to entertain themselves in the morning because I am not a morning person. I feel like because I gave them life, then they can give me at least until 830. Only fair.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Gourmet Valentine's Day Cookies?!
“I think the kids will really like the cookies you’re bringing to the Valentine’s Day party,” I said to Tommy as he sat writing out his Valentine’s.
“Frank said his Mom is bringing in gourmet cookies. Made at home,” Tommy added pointedly.
“Frank is probably lying out of his ass..er, butt,” I corrected. Gourmet cookies indeed. At a children’s Valentine’s Day party? If that was true, what a show off. And could Tommy bring home one so I could try it?
“Why don’t you make cookies at home?” Tommy wondered as he scribbled out his name on the Valentine.
“Trust me, Tommy, it’s better that I don’t,” I replied. I’m not the worst cook in the world but I have dropped an eggshell in the batter many times. And once I accidentally used olive oil instead of vegetable. “Hey, make sure you write neat.” Tommy’s penmanship was beginning to look like chicken scratch.
“I’m tired of doing this,” Tommy moaned. “My fingers hurt.” He curled and uncurled his fingers dramatically.
“Hey, imagine how I feel when I write all those thank you cards after Christmas. You’re almost done,” I reminded him.
Tommy scowled as he picked up his pen. “I don’t like this.”
I had to listen to him whine. It was not pleasant. All he had to do was write names. Imagine if he had to scrub all three toilets in the home like I had to do that morning.
Finally, Tommy finished. He had picked out Valentine’s that came with lollipops which will annoy the health nut mothers. They’re probably having their children pass out organic Valentine’s with a carrot stuck on it or something.
“Are we making my box?” Tommy asked.
He had to make his own Valentine’s Day box and this frightened me at first. In the past, all he’s had was a plastic bag for the Valentine’s. I am not crafty in the least and yes, I admit that I thought I’d have to hammer a box together.
Then someone suggested a shoe box.
A shoe box! Of course. Duh.
So Tommy made this:
Natalie, on the other hand, didn’t have to make her own box.
But she did have to bring in a healthy snack.
I really hope her class isn’t one of those who don’t allow junk food. I don’t think I’d let her attend a school where cupcakes weren’t allowed. That just seems cruel.
Anyway, I got her a platter of already cut up vegetables because have I mentioned that I suck at cutting things?
They got this for Valentine’s Day:
And yes, Tom sent me a romantic card where he basically said that I rocked, that he was glad to be married to me even though I’m odd, and oh, could I please stop shopping at Target so much?
Tomorrow I’m going out and getting 50% off chocolates. No sense paying full price.
Tom should be proud.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
“Frank said his Mom is bringing in gourmet cookies. Made at home,” Tommy added pointedly.
“Frank is probably lying out of his ass..er, butt,” I corrected. Gourmet cookies indeed. At a children’s Valentine’s Day party? If that was true, what a show off. And could Tommy bring home one so I could try it?
“Why don’t you make cookies at home?” Tommy wondered as he scribbled out his name on the Valentine.
“Trust me, Tommy, it’s better that I don’t,” I replied. I’m not the worst cook in the world but I have dropped an eggshell in the batter many times. And once I accidentally used olive oil instead of vegetable. “Hey, make sure you write neat.” Tommy’s penmanship was beginning to look like chicken scratch.
“I’m tired of doing this,” Tommy moaned. “My fingers hurt.” He curled and uncurled his fingers dramatically.
“Hey, imagine how I feel when I write all those thank you cards after Christmas. You’re almost done,” I reminded him.
Tommy scowled as he picked up his pen. “I don’t like this.”
I had to listen to him whine. It was not pleasant. All he had to do was write names. Imagine if he had to scrub all three toilets in the home like I had to do that morning.
Finally, Tommy finished. He had picked out Valentine’s that came with lollipops which will annoy the health nut mothers. They’re probably having their children pass out organic Valentine’s with a carrot stuck on it or something.
“Are we making my box?” Tommy asked.
He had to make his own Valentine’s Day box and this frightened me at first. In the past, all he’s had was a plastic bag for the Valentine’s. I am not crafty in the least and yes, I admit that I thought I’d have to hammer a box together.
Then someone suggested a shoe box.
A shoe box! Of course. Duh.
So Tommy made this:
Natalie, on the other hand, didn’t have to make her own box.
But she did have to bring in a healthy snack.
I really hope her class isn’t one of those who don’t allow junk food. I don’t think I’d let her attend a school where cupcakes weren’t allowed. That just seems cruel.
Anyway, I got her a platter of already cut up vegetables because have I mentioned that I suck at cutting things?
They got this for Valentine’s Day:
And yes, Tom sent me a romantic card where he basically said that I rocked, that he was glad to be married to me even though I’m odd, and oh, could I please stop shopping at Target so much?
Tomorrow I’m going out and getting 50% off chocolates. No sense paying full price.
Tom should be proud.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Life As We Know It Giveaway **CLOSED
**CLOSED, thanks for entering, winners have been announced here!**
Yes, it's true.
I love a feel good movie.
Life As We Know It, starring Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel, looks to be that kind of movie.
This is the synopsis from Amazon.com:
"In Life as We Know It, Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel discover that their closest friends have appointed them guardians of their child in the unlikely event of their joint death--an unlikely event that has just happened. Make no mistake: There's no reason this movie should have been any good. The premise is the worst kind of formulaic Hollywood claptrap; the pleasant but cautious Heigl (Knocked Up) is playing yet another uptight fussbudget; since a promising movie debut in the underrated Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!, Duhamel has largely coasted on his looks in tripe like the Transformers movies--yet Life as We Know It is surprisingly likable. After the movie gets through the basic exposition--and navigates some radical shifts in tone with unexpected deftness--the script somehow manages to make its clichés into something resembling real human situations. The colorful supporting characters are all entertainingly written and well played by a solid cast. And both Heigl and Duhamel give understated, engaging performances that manage to make the inevitable conclusion seem almost not inevitable."
Want to learn more about the movie? Check this out:
Good news for my readers. I was contacted to give away 1 DVD and 1 soundtrack of the movie.
Interested in winning?
Leave a comment! Any comment.
Want extra entries?
Follow me on my blog or Twitter. Leave a separate entry telling me if you do.
If your blog account isn't linked to your e-mail address, please make sure it's in your comment so I can contact you if you've won.
This giveaway will last until the 23rd.
Good luck!
Yes, it's true.
I love a feel good movie.
Life As We Know It, starring Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel, looks to be that kind of movie.
This is the synopsis from Amazon.com:
"In Life as We Know It, Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel discover that their closest friends have appointed them guardians of their child in the unlikely event of their joint death--an unlikely event that has just happened. Make no mistake: There's no reason this movie should have been any good. The premise is the worst kind of formulaic Hollywood claptrap; the pleasant but cautious Heigl (Knocked Up) is playing yet another uptight fussbudget; since a promising movie debut in the underrated Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!, Duhamel has largely coasted on his looks in tripe like the Transformers movies--yet Life as We Know It is surprisingly likable. After the movie gets through the basic exposition--and navigates some radical shifts in tone with unexpected deftness--the script somehow manages to make its clichés into something resembling real human situations. The colorful supporting characters are all entertainingly written and well played by a solid cast. And both Heigl and Duhamel give understated, engaging performances that manage to make the inevitable conclusion seem almost not inevitable."
Want to learn more about the movie? Check this out:
Good news for my readers. I was contacted to give away 1 DVD and 1 soundtrack of the movie.
Interested in winning?
Leave a comment! Any comment.
Want extra entries?
Follow me on my blog or Twitter. Leave a separate entry telling me if you do.
If your blog account isn't linked to your e-mail address, please make sure it's in your comment so I can contact you if you've won.
This giveaway will last until the 23rd.
Good luck!
Check Out Brookstone!
I’m going to be honest.
I never know what to get for my husband on his birthday or Father’s Day. He’s just impossible to shop for.
It’s why I’m happy that someone from Brookstone contacted me. I had never heard of the site before and when I checked it out, I was impressed. There are so many different items to choose from.
It might be a few months away from Father’s Day but I like to shop early. Brookstone has many gifts for dad on their site. And even better? I was given a code to share with my readers for $10 off a purchase of $70 or more. Use the code 22SAVE.
Some gifts that I think Tom would like?
The uControl Cloud Force RC Helicopter. This is what the site says about it:
"Lets you reach and maintain altitude, up to 80 feet from the remote.
Test your limits and fly missions up to 80 feet away from the included remote. And don’t worry if you have a bumpy landing or two. This copter includes 4 replacement blades, 1 stabilizer bar, 1 landing gear, 2 tail fins, 1 tail rotor and 4 connecting rods for repairs."
He's basically a big kid so he'd have a lot of fun flying that around the house.
He's also like the CandyMan Motion-Activated Candy Dispenser.
Or wait, maybe that's me who'd like that. I'd love to just stick my hand underneath it and have candy drop out.
Makes it easier to get my chocolate.
I never know what to get for my husband on his birthday or Father’s Day. He’s just impossible to shop for.
It’s why I’m happy that someone from Brookstone contacted me. I had never heard of the site before and when I checked it out, I was impressed. There are so many different items to choose from.
It might be a few months away from Father’s Day but I like to shop early. Brookstone has many gifts for dad on their site. And even better? I was given a code to share with my readers for $10 off a purchase of $70 or more. Use the code 22SAVE.
Some gifts that I think Tom would like?
The uControl Cloud Force RC Helicopter. This is what the site says about it:
"Lets you reach and maintain altitude, up to 80 feet from the remote.
Test your limits and fly missions up to 80 feet away from the included remote. And don’t worry if you have a bumpy landing or two. This copter includes 4 replacement blades, 1 stabilizer bar, 1 landing gear, 2 tail fins, 1 tail rotor and 4 connecting rods for repairs."
He's basically a big kid so he'd have a lot of fun flying that around the house.
He's also like the CandyMan Motion-Activated Candy Dispenser.
Or wait, maybe that's me who'd like that. I'd love to just stick my hand underneath it and have candy drop out.
Makes it easier to get my chocolate.
Friday, February 11, 2011
An E-mail to Tom: A Rabid Creature?!
Occasionally I'll share the e-mails that I send to Tom while he's in Korea. This is one of them.
-------------------
Dear Tom,
It wasn’t funny.
I know you’ll think so, but it wasn’t.
Look at it from my perspective. There I was, thrilled that the kids were finally in bed and then I saw it.
A furry creature on the carpet.
Look, I’m not proud to admit that I jumped up on the couch and acted like a total girl. But I thought it could be rabid , Tom. One never knows these days. My plan was to cover the thing with a box and.....well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do after that. I suppose I would have pounded on my neighbor’s door and asked the guy to dispose of the creature.
But here was the problem: there were no boxes around. This meant that I’d have to get off the couch and potentially be bitten by the RABID CREATURE.
I was so busy flipping out on the couch that I didn’t even notice that I had knocked over a couch pillow.
RIGHT ON THE RABID CREATURE!
I expected it to run off somewhere. But no. It didn’t move.
I got brave and peered closer. (And yes, for a second I had a fear that it was playing dead and when I was close enough it would latch onto my nose and I’d be screaming while spinning around the room while the thing held onto my nostril.)
Anyway, I realized it wasn’t alive.
Stop LAUGHING, Tom. The lightening wasn’t that great, can you blame me?
It turned out it was just the tail from Tommy’s Pillow Pet. How that came off is beyond me. You know how he gets rough. Maybe the tail offended him?
Still.
In my eyes, the thing looked like this:
As I said, it was dark.
Love,
Your Wife Who Thankfully Wasn’t Bitten By A Rabid Creature
PS. Stop laughing.
-------------------
Dear Tom,
It wasn’t funny.
I know you’ll think so, but it wasn’t.
Look at it from my perspective. There I was, thrilled that the kids were finally in bed and then I saw it.
A furry creature on the carpet.
Look, I’m not proud to admit that I jumped up on the couch and acted like a total girl. But I thought it could be rabid , Tom. One never knows these days. My plan was to cover the thing with a box and.....well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do after that. I suppose I would have pounded on my neighbor’s door and asked the guy to dispose of the creature.
But here was the problem: there were no boxes around. This meant that I’d have to get off the couch and potentially be bitten by the RABID CREATURE.
I was so busy flipping out on the couch that I didn’t even notice that I had knocked over a couch pillow.
RIGHT ON THE RABID CREATURE!
I expected it to run off somewhere. But no. It didn’t move.
I got brave and peered closer. (And yes, for a second I had a fear that it was playing dead and when I was close enough it would latch onto my nose and I’d be screaming while spinning around the room while the thing held onto my nostril.)
Anyway, I realized it wasn’t alive.
Stop LAUGHING, Tom. The lightening wasn’t that great, can you blame me?
It turned out it was just the tail from Tommy’s Pillow Pet. How that came off is beyond me. You know how he gets rough. Maybe the tail offended him?
Still.
In my eyes, the thing looked like this:
As I said, it was dark.
Love,
Your Wife Who Thankfully Wasn’t Bitten By A Rabid Creature
PS. Stop laughing.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Don't Feed Me
I’m sure most people have seen this picture:
If not, let me explain. It was taken at the Super Bowl and that would be A-Rod (baseball player Alex Rodriguez) and Cameron Diaz. Feeding A-Rod popcorn.
I just....
I mean....
Okay, look. I would never feed Tom. I would never expect him to feed me. He tried once in the beginning of our relationship. We were at a restaurant, having a good time, and then his fork started to come at me. With a fair amount of food on it.
See, Tom’s bite is different from mine. It’s bigger. So the pasta on the end of the fork was fairly large.
How big did he think my mouth was?
He hadn’t even seen my temper at that point so he didn’t really know.
Wait, did he WANT my mouth to be that big?
How do I tell him politely that my mouth is not that big? Maybe he was confusing me with Jenna Jameson.
The fork came closer....and closer...
“I can’t eat that!” I suddenly yelped. I meant to say it politely, to coyly shift my mouth away, flutter my eyelashes and say, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly....”
Instead, I shouted.
And startled Tom.
He brought the fork back to his plate and stared at me in confusion.
“It’s a sweet concept, feeding me,” I began but what I wanted to say was, Look, I haven’t had someone feed me since I was 1. “But that’s too much pasta for one bite.”
Oh God, what if he expected me to feed HIM?
“Okay,” Tom answered.
“I’m not feeding you, either,” I sputtered. “Some people might find it adorable to feed their boyfriend, but I am not one of those people.”
Tom smiled. “I wouldn’t expect you to feed me. I just wanted you to try some of my pasta since you said you liked Italian food so much.”
Aw. Well, that was sweet.
And to this day, he still lets me have a bite of his food.
But I get it myself.
If not, let me explain. It was taken at the Super Bowl and that would be A-Rod (baseball player Alex Rodriguez) and Cameron Diaz. Feeding A-Rod popcorn.
I just....
I mean....
Okay, look. I would never feed Tom. I would never expect him to feed me. He tried once in the beginning of our relationship. We were at a restaurant, having a good time, and then his fork started to come at me. With a fair amount of food on it.
See, Tom’s bite is different from mine. It’s bigger. So the pasta on the end of the fork was fairly large.
How big did he think my mouth was?
He hadn’t even seen my temper at that point so he didn’t really know.
Wait, did he WANT my mouth to be that big?
How do I tell him politely that my mouth is not that big? Maybe he was confusing me with Jenna Jameson.
The fork came closer....and closer...
“I can’t eat that!” I suddenly yelped. I meant to say it politely, to coyly shift my mouth away, flutter my eyelashes and say, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly....”
Instead, I shouted.
And startled Tom.
He brought the fork back to his plate and stared at me in confusion.
“It’s a sweet concept, feeding me,” I began but what I wanted to say was, Look, I haven’t had someone feed me since I was 1. “But that’s too much pasta for one bite.”
Oh God, what if he expected me to feed HIM?
“Okay,” Tom answered.
“I’m not feeding you, either,” I sputtered. “Some people might find it adorable to feed their boyfriend, but I am not one of those people.”
Tom smiled. “I wouldn’t expect you to feed me. I just wanted you to try some of my pasta since you said you liked Italian food so much.”
Aw. Well, that was sweet.
And to this day, he still lets me have a bite of his food.
But I get it myself.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Shoveling Woes
My body was confused.
It was all, “Why are you overworking me?”
I paused and took a deep breath.
Shoveling snow sucks I thought. My heart was thumping unnaturally. I could feel sweat forming on my brow. Gross.
Basically, my body was baffled because I was actually….exercising? Or I was doing something that made it feel like I was exercising.
I stared at my driveway. I still had the other half to shovel.
It sucked.
I got back to work and grunted as I pushed the snow aside. We only got 4 inches but it felt like 40.
I was hunched over, grunting, when I heard someone call my name.
Crap, crap, crap.
It was the lady who lives a few houses down. Why did she look so happy? Didn’t she see all this snow?
“I saw you out,” she began. I’ll call her Fern.
“Yup. Gotta shovel,” I answered in a strained voice. God, I was in pain. I just wanted to go back inside and take a nap.
Fern waved a hand in the air like it was no big deal. “My husband is doing ours now.”
Oh, rub it in Fern. I continued to shovel and knew what was coming.
“Layla is doing ballet, as you know, and she’s doing wonderfully. She wears the cutest little leotard and blah, blah, blah…”
Well, really she didn’t go blah, blah, blah but it came out that way to me.
See, Fern is someone who talks about her kids. Constantly. She’ll show photos of her kids. Constantly. I’m all for being proud of your offspring, but there is such a thing as overkill. Like, I love my kids and think they are fabulous, but I understand that not everyone cares to hear about them on a daily basis.
Fern does not get this.
Fern has 3 kids and they are all apparently perfect angels. I don’t agree, because I’ve seen her kids and one of them once sat in the middle of the street, arms crossed firmly over her chest and refused to move until she was given a lollipop.
“And Deacon is doing indoor soccer and he scored FIVE goals and he blah, blah, blah,” Fern continued.
I rolled my eyes. Fern is one of those mothers who doesn’t send her kids on the bus. When I announced that my son rode the bus she looked like she was about to have a heart attack. “Do you know,” she whispered at me, “what can happen on a bus?” I replied, “Yes. I get to save gas.”
“Layla’s plies are fantastic,” Fern gushed.
“Yeah, the way Natalie jumps off our couch is pretty fantastic, too,” I said.
Fern blinked at me. I don’t think she gets my humor. But Fern is the type of person who would chat up a homeless person about her kids.
“Andrew is starting football,” Fern prattled on.
I wanted to stuff some snow in her mouth. I don’t mind discussing my kids, but it’s not all I want to talk about. It’s why I don’t constantly dedicate blog posts to them. I’m still me, Amber, the chick who loves chocolate, writing, books, and discussing if there ever will be a show as good as Lost again.
I had to stop shoveling again. I felt like I was going to faint.
“Are you okay?” Fern asked. “You look pale.”
I nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’s probably this hat I’m wearing.” I am not a hat person. I tend to look sickly when I wear one. Or just really, really bad.
“Anyhow, I better get going. Bye,” Fern said and walked off. She was probably worried I was going to pass out in the middle of her My Kid Is The Best story.
Finally. Silence. Well, except for my breath coming out in loud puffs.
It took me awhile, but I finally did it.
See, this was the before picture:
And the after:
I rewarded myself with a Twinkie and a hot chocolate.
And a vow to try and avoid Fern.
It was all, “Why are you overworking me?”
I paused and took a deep breath.
Shoveling snow sucks I thought. My heart was thumping unnaturally. I could feel sweat forming on my brow. Gross.
Basically, my body was baffled because I was actually….exercising? Or I was doing something that made it feel like I was exercising.
I stared at my driveway. I still had the other half to shovel.
It sucked.
I got back to work and grunted as I pushed the snow aside. We only got 4 inches but it felt like 40.
I was hunched over, grunting, when I heard someone call my name.
Crap, crap, crap.
It was the lady who lives a few houses down. Why did she look so happy? Didn’t she see all this snow?
“I saw you out,” she began. I’ll call her Fern.
“Yup. Gotta shovel,” I answered in a strained voice. God, I was in pain. I just wanted to go back inside and take a nap.
Fern waved a hand in the air like it was no big deal. “My husband is doing ours now.”
Oh, rub it in Fern. I continued to shovel and knew what was coming.
“Layla is doing ballet, as you know, and she’s doing wonderfully. She wears the cutest little leotard and blah, blah, blah…”
Well, really she didn’t go blah, blah, blah but it came out that way to me.
See, Fern is someone who talks about her kids. Constantly. She’ll show photos of her kids. Constantly. I’m all for being proud of your offspring, but there is such a thing as overkill. Like, I love my kids and think they are fabulous, but I understand that not everyone cares to hear about them on a daily basis.
Fern does not get this.
Fern has 3 kids and they are all apparently perfect angels. I don’t agree, because I’ve seen her kids and one of them once sat in the middle of the street, arms crossed firmly over her chest and refused to move until she was given a lollipop.
“And Deacon is doing indoor soccer and he scored FIVE goals and he blah, blah, blah,” Fern continued.
I rolled my eyes. Fern is one of those mothers who doesn’t send her kids on the bus. When I announced that my son rode the bus she looked like she was about to have a heart attack. “Do you know,” she whispered at me, “what can happen on a bus?” I replied, “Yes. I get to save gas.”
“Layla’s plies are fantastic,” Fern gushed.
“Yeah, the way Natalie jumps off our couch is pretty fantastic, too,” I said.
Fern blinked at me. I don’t think she gets my humor. But Fern is the type of person who would chat up a homeless person about her kids.
“Andrew is starting football,” Fern prattled on.
I wanted to stuff some snow in her mouth. I don’t mind discussing my kids, but it’s not all I want to talk about. It’s why I don’t constantly dedicate blog posts to them. I’m still me, Amber, the chick who loves chocolate, writing, books, and discussing if there ever will be a show as good as Lost again.
I had to stop shoveling again. I felt like I was going to faint.
“Are you okay?” Fern asked. “You look pale.”
I nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’s probably this hat I’m wearing.” I am not a hat person. I tend to look sickly when I wear one. Or just really, really bad.
“Anyhow, I better get going. Bye,” Fern said and walked off. She was probably worried I was going to pass out in the middle of her My Kid Is The Best story.
Finally. Silence. Well, except for my breath coming out in loud puffs.
It took me awhile, but I finally did it.
See, this was the before picture:
And the after:
I rewarded myself with a Twinkie and a hot chocolate.
And a vow to try and avoid Fern.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.
----------------------
To be curious on what Matthew Perry’s new show will be like. It premieres tomorrow.
To be glad that John Corbett is joining the Parenthood cast.
To be a little sad that Ace of Cakes is ending. I really like Duff.
To go out the day after Valentine’s Day to buy chocolates for 50% off.
To prefer listening to oldies. One of my favorite songs is All I Have To Do Is Dream by The Everly Brothers.
To have felt sorry for Christina Aguilera when she messed up the National Anthem. She was probably just nervous. I would be. Granted, she should know the lyrics but I know I babble like an idiot when I’m nervous.
To be ready to shop the Baby and Kid Sale at Gymboree.com when it comes online tonight.
To hate when people write ‘ur’ for ‘your or you’re’ in a blog post or on the forum I write at. It’s not going to hurt to spell the entire word out, people. It’s acceptable when texting, not anywhere else.
To have never watched Seinfeld.
To miss the reality show The Osbournes. My fave episode? The one where Sharon threw ham over to her neighbor’s yard since they were being loud. I’ve been known to say, “I’m going to go all Sharon if they don’t be quiet,” when my neighbors are noisy and most people have no clue what I mean. (I wouldn’t throw ham though. Probably a roast.)
----------------------
To be curious on what Matthew Perry’s new show will be like. It premieres tomorrow.
To be glad that John Corbett is joining the Parenthood cast.
To be a little sad that Ace of Cakes is ending. I really like Duff.
To go out the day after Valentine’s Day to buy chocolates for 50% off.
To prefer listening to oldies. One of my favorite songs is All I Have To Do Is Dream by The Everly Brothers.
To have felt sorry for Christina Aguilera when she messed up the National Anthem. She was probably just nervous. I would be. Granted, she should know the lyrics but I know I babble like an idiot when I’m nervous.
To be ready to shop the Baby and Kid Sale at Gymboree.com when it comes online tonight.
To hate when people write ‘ur’ for ‘your or you’re’ in a blog post or on the forum I write at. It’s not going to hurt to spell the entire word out, people. It’s acceptable when texting, not anywhere else.
To have never watched Seinfeld.
To miss the reality show The Osbournes. My fave episode? The one where Sharon threw ham over to her neighbor’s yard since they were being loud. I’ve been known to say, “I’m going to go all Sharon if they don’t be quiet,” when my neighbors are noisy and most people have no clue what I mean. (I wouldn’t throw ham though. Probably a roast.)
Monday, February 7, 2011
Super Bowl Confusion
“Tommy, do you know what these represent?” I asked.
Tommy peered at the decorated cookies. “Um.” He scratched his arm. “Um. The Bowl?”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. His response just proved how often we watch sports. “The Super Bowl, yes,” I corrected. “It’s a big football game.”
Tommy didn’t seem impressed. He’s not into football. I’m not into football. My husband, he’s into football when the Cleveland Browns are doing well. This rarely happens so he doesn’t watch much of it either.
Honestly, I don’t even understand the rules of football. Tom promised he’d teach me one day but most of the time he’s all, “Basically, the goal is to get a touchdown.” Um. I knew that part, thanks.
Tommy isn’t into sports because he’s not that great at them. He tries, he really does. Like once Tom threw a football back and forth with him and more often than not, the football bounced off Tommy’s chest and fell to the ground.
“Good job,” Tom would say as Tommy would scramble to retrieve the ball. Then Tommy would attempt to throw it back to Tom and it would fall like ten feet from where he was standing.
Poor kid, he inherited my coordination. I remember in PE class how I’d scream if we were playing softball and the ball actually rolled towards me. Then my teammates would yell at me to get the ball, I’d scramble after it usually tripping along the way, and throw it to the wrong person.
My bad.
“Who do you want to win the Super Bowl?” I asked Tommy.
Tommy tapped his chin. He stared hard at the cookies as though this were an important decision. “I like...” he began, “I like these guys.” He pointed to the Steelers cookie.
“That works out, because I prefer the Packers. I like their colors more. The Steelers colors remind me of a bee, and I don’t like bees. Remember what the bees did to Thomas J?”
Tommy nodded. I had let him watch My Girl with me and he was horrified that Thomas J died on account of bee stings. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let him watch the movie because whenever a bee would come close to him, he’d go racing around our yard yelling, “Get away from me, bees! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO THOMAS J!”
I need to explain that he’s not allergic to them so he doesn’t flip out at school. Otherwise I have a feeling that I’ll get a phone call from his teacher saying something like, “You need to come down and get Tommy. He keeps screaming about bees and someone called Thomas J.”
“Maybe I want the Packers,” Tommy said.
“Um, nope. You picked the Steelers. May the best team win.” I shook Tommy’s hand.
We started to eat our cookies. Mmm, packers colors never tasted so good.
“What do I get if the Steelers win?” Tommy wanted to know.
“A buck,” I answered. Then I worried that I might not even have a dollar in my wallet. I mainly pay with my debit card. I rarely have cash on me. When Tommy left the room I checked my wallet. Crap. No cash.
But…
It turns out I didn’t need it because the Packers won.
I knew I ate the right cookie.
Tommy peered at the decorated cookies. “Um.” He scratched his arm. “Um. The Bowl?”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. His response just proved how often we watch sports. “The Super Bowl, yes,” I corrected. “It’s a big football game.”
Tommy didn’t seem impressed. He’s not into football. I’m not into football. My husband, he’s into football when the Cleveland Browns are doing well. This rarely happens so he doesn’t watch much of it either.
Honestly, I don’t even understand the rules of football. Tom promised he’d teach me one day but most of the time he’s all, “Basically, the goal is to get a touchdown.” Um. I knew that part, thanks.
Tommy isn’t into sports because he’s not that great at them. He tries, he really does. Like once Tom threw a football back and forth with him and more often than not, the football bounced off Tommy’s chest and fell to the ground.
“Good job,” Tom would say as Tommy would scramble to retrieve the ball. Then Tommy would attempt to throw it back to Tom and it would fall like ten feet from where he was standing.
Poor kid, he inherited my coordination. I remember in PE class how I’d scream if we were playing softball and the ball actually rolled towards me. Then my teammates would yell at me to get the ball, I’d scramble after it usually tripping along the way, and throw it to the wrong person.
My bad.
“Who do you want to win the Super Bowl?” I asked Tommy.
Tommy tapped his chin. He stared hard at the cookies as though this were an important decision. “I like...” he began, “I like these guys.” He pointed to the Steelers cookie.
“That works out, because I prefer the Packers. I like their colors more. The Steelers colors remind me of a bee, and I don’t like bees. Remember what the bees did to Thomas J?”
Tommy nodded. I had let him watch My Girl with me and he was horrified that Thomas J died on account of bee stings. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let him watch the movie because whenever a bee would come close to him, he’d go racing around our yard yelling, “Get away from me, bees! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO THOMAS J!”
I need to explain that he’s not allergic to them so he doesn’t flip out at school. Otherwise I have a feeling that I’ll get a phone call from his teacher saying something like, “You need to come down and get Tommy. He keeps screaming about bees and someone called Thomas J.”
“Maybe I want the Packers,” Tommy said.
“Um, nope. You picked the Steelers. May the best team win.” I shook Tommy’s hand.
We started to eat our cookies. Mmm, packers colors never tasted so good.
“What do I get if the Steelers win?” Tommy wanted to know.
“A buck,” I answered. Then I worried that I might not even have a dollar in my wallet. I mainly pay with my debit card. I rarely have cash on me. When Tommy left the room I checked my wallet. Crap. No cash.
But…
It turns out I didn’t need it because the Packers won.
I knew I ate the right cookie.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Things That Make Me Go Huh?
There are a lot of strange things that go on in the world. The following are some of the pictures that made me go “huh?”
Natalie’s giant Rapunzel doll has been known to freak me out. I saw this from the corner of my eye and was all, “Ahhh! Blond Yeti!” Then I thought, “Cousin It?”
This guy, from Yo Gabba Gabba. He does Biz’s Beat of the Day. He scares me.
I don’t get why the Paparazzi is wasting its time taking photos of the Teen Mom stars. It really baffles me. They’ve really don’t do anything to warrant the attention. Same with the Jersey Shore cast. Sometimes I really don’t get America.
Don’t these look good? I mean, I love Lucky Charms so I thought, why not?
Can you believe there are people who haven’t seen Amadeus? It’s a wonderful movie about Mozart. Bonus? Mozart’s laugh.
I came across this little snippet in my Parenting magazine (the one with Kourtney Kardashian on the cover. I’m still baffled about that.) Anyway. In case you can’t see it, it says that “kids from about 18 months to 4 years are simply hardwired to misbehave.” Help. Help me, now. (She types as her three-year-old daughter streaks across the house naked screaming at the top of her lungs.)
Natalie’s giant Rapunzel doll has been known to freak me out. I saw this from the corner of my eye and was all, “Ahhh! Blond Yeti!” Then I thought, “Cousin It?”
This guy, from Yo Gabba Gabba. He does Biz’s Beat of the Day. He scares me.
I don’t get why the Paparazzi is wasting its time taking photos of the Teen Mom stars. It really baffles me. They’ve really don’t do anything to warrant the attention. Same with the Jersey Shore cast. Sometimes I really don’t get America.
Don’t these look good? I mean, I love Lucky Charms so I thought, why not?
Can you believe there are people who haven’t seen Amadeus? It’s a wonderful movie about Mozart. Bonus? Mozart’s laugh.
I came across this little snippet in my Parenting magazine (the one with Kourtney Kardashian on the cover. I’m still baffled about that.) Anyway. In case you can’t see it, it says that “kids from about 18 months to 4 years are simply hardwired to misbehave.” Help. Help me, now. (She types as her three-year-old daughter streaks across the house naked screaming at the top of her lungs.)
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Different Reactions
I find that I get different reactions when I tell people that Tom is in Korea for a year. I’ve probably even written about them before. I decided to make a list of the different reactions that I’ve received, as I’ve found some humorous.
-------------------------
ANGER
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Why would you allow that?
Me: I know it’s important for my husband to serve his country and he didn’t feel he was doing that here.
Them: But for him to just take off and leave his family!
Me: It’s okay. We get to talk to him on Skype.
Them: Still.
Me: Really, it’s okay, I’m an Only Child so I don’t mind it. I actually like having the bed to myself.
Them: *Blinks* Don’t you know that hookers run rampant over there? What if your husband sleeps with a hooker?
Me: Then I’ll take him for half of everything he has. Which isn’t much.
Them: How can you joke at a time like this? Your husband left and might be hanging around HOOKERS.
Me: I wonder if he can get me a picture. I’ve always wanted to see a Korean hooker.
---------------------------------
SORROW
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Oh my God, you poor thing. How are you holding up?
Me: I’m okay, thank you.
Them: Don’t you just want to cry every night?
Me: Um. No.
Them: I’d want to cry every night. In fact, I’m tearing up right now, excuse me. You poor, poor thing.
Me: I’m okay.
Them: If you ever need someone to talk to, I know a good therapist.
Me: I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I have a blog, I don’t need a therapist.
------------------------
HAPPY
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Woohoo, freedom from the man!
Me: ?????
Them: Isn’t it awesome to do whatever you want?
Me: Er? Within reason.
Them: You can buy whatever you want and they’ll never know!
Me: Well, my husband would know, he just looks at the bank statement. I actually got lectured over the amount I spent at Target.
Them: You can have boyfriends over!
Me: (A little afraid) Well, seeing as I made a vow when I got married to forsake all others, there are no boyfriends. Unless you count John Krasinksi, but he doesn’t know I exist so...
----------------------
OVERLY DRAMATIC
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: A year? An entire year? A whole year? What are you going to do without him for a year? How will you cope?
Me: I’ll be fine. I have two kids to keep me busy.
Them: An entire year? Will your kids even recognize their father when he comes back?
Me: Thanks to the invention of Skype, yes.
Them: What are you going to do? What happens if something breaks? What if you die in your sleep? Then what?
Me: I guess I’d hope that my son would call the police and not pig out on junk food and dance naked around my carcass while eating my Ho Hos that I won’t let him have.
---------------------------
KNOW IT ALL
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Oh, no biggie, at least it’s not Afghanistan.
Me: True. Though Korea isn’t exactly the safest place in the world.
Them: But it’s not Afghanistan and plus, my husband was once deployed for 18 months. A year is nothing.
Me: Um.
Them: At least it’s not Afghanistan. Korea is nothing. Korea is like a vacation.
Me: Kiss my pale ass. (No, I’m kidding, I didn’t say that but I do think this.)
-------------------------
ANGER
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Why would you allow that?
Me: I know it’s important for my husband to serve his country and he didn’t feel he was doing that here.
Them: But for him to just take off and leave his family!
Me: It’s okay. We get to talk to him on Skype.
Them: Still.
Me: Really, it’s okay, I’m an Only Child so I don’t mind it. I actually like having the bed to myself.
Them: *Blinks* Don’t you know that hookers run rampant over there? What if your husband sleeps with a hooker?
Me: Then I’ll take him for half of everything he has. Which isn’t much.
Them: How can you joke at a time like this? Your husband left and might be hanging around HOOKERS.
Me: I wonder if he can get me a picture. I’ve always wanted to see a Korean hooker.
---------------------------------
SORROW
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Oh my God, you poor thing. How are you holding up?
Me: I’m okay, thank you.
Them: Don’t you just want to cry every night?
Me: Um. No.
Them: I’d want to cry every night. In fact, I’m tearing up right now, excuse me. You poor, poor thing.
Me: I’m okay.
Them: If you ever need someone to talk to, I know a good therapist.
Me: I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I have a blog, I don’t need a therapist.
------------------------
HAPPY
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Woohoo, freedom from the man!
Me: ?????
Them: Isn’t it awesome to do whatever you want?
Me: Er? Within reason.
Them: You can buy whatever you want and they’ll never know!
Me: Well, my husband would know, he just looks at the bank statement. I actually got lectured over the amount I spent at Target.
Them: You can have boyfriends over!
Me: (A little afraid) Well, seeing as I made a vow when I got married to forsake all others, there are no boyfriends. Unless you count John Krasinksi, but he doesn’t know I exist so...
----------------------
OVERLY DRAMATIC
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: A year? An entire year? A whole year? What are you going to do without him for a year? How will you cope?
Me: I’ll be fine. I have two kids to keep me busy.
Them: An entire year? Will your kids even recognize their father when he comes back?
Me: Thanks to the invention of Skype, yes.
Them: What are you going to do? What happens if something breaks? What if you die in your sleep? Then what?
Me: I guess I’d hope that my son would call the police and not pig out on junk food and dance naked around my carcass while eating my Ho Hos that I won’t let him have.
---------------------------
KNOW IT ALL
Me: My husband is in Korea for a year.
Them: Oh, no biggie, at least it’s not Afghanistan.
Me: True. Though Korea isn’t exactly the safest place in the world.
Them: But it’s not Afghanistan and plus, my husband was once deployed for 18 months. A year is nothing.
Me: Um.
Them: At least it’s not Afghanistan. Korea is nothing. Korea is like a vacation.
Me: Kiss my pale ass. (No, I’m kidding, I didn’t say that but I do think this.)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Let's Go To The Movies
Let me start off by saying that I love Redbook magazine.
But sometimes I don’t understand their articles. Or most of the fashion that is depicted. Still, I really enjoy getting my copy in my mailbox each month.
This article caught my eye and made me laugh.
Mainly because it basically told me NOT to do everything I DO when I go to the movies.
For starters, I always get butter on my popcorn even though Hungry Girl warns that this means my popcorn can be 1500 calories. She states that popcorn is already seasoned enough and that extra butter isn’t necessary.
Um.
No butter on popcorn reminds me of eating salted Styrofoam. Not that I’ve ever had Styrofoam but that’s how I imagine it would taste. I have to get butter. In fact, there are times when I say, “Extra butter, please.”
Hungry Girl would be pleased to know that I do order a Diet Coke, although she says that water is better. But water and popcorn taste boring to me. I must have a soda to go with it.
I do get the nachos even though Hungry Girl says NEVER to get them because they are apparently 1,200 calories. I don’t care. I love the nachos. I get mine with jalapeños. However, I usually get the popcorn OR the nachos. I rarely have both, unless I’m very, very hungry. Or PMSing.
I also bring my own snacks, but not nuts. I sneak in Sno Caps, because I can find them for a buck and I refuse to fork over three bucks at the cinema. I mix the Sno Caps with my popcorn for a salty/sweet treat.
Hungry Girl mentions that it’s best to share items bought at the cinema and…well, Tom and I usually get our own stuff when we go. This is because Tom is male and eats food faster than Charlie Sheen can spot a bar. When I’m with friends I share. But some of them like popcorn without the butter, which as I’ve stated before I don’t like, so then I’m stuck with all my buttery goodness.
And now I’m craving movie theater nachos. Anyone want to go to the movies with me? We can see the new Adam Sandler film Just Go With It.
But sometimes I don’t understand their articles. Or most of the fashion that is depicted. Still, I really enjoy getting my copy in my mailbox each month.
This article caught my eye and made me laugh.
Mainly because it basically told me NOT to do everything I DO when I go to the movies.
For starters, I always get butter on my popcorn even though Hungry Girl warns that this means my popcorn can be 1500 calories. She states that popcorn is already seasoned enough and that extra butter isn’t necessary.
Um.
No butter on popcorn reminds me of eating salted Styrofoam. Not that I’ve ever had Styrofoam but that’s how I imagine it would taste. I have to get butter. In fact, there are times when I say, “Extra butter, please.”
Hungry Girl would be pleased to know that I do order a Diet Coke, although she says that water is better. But water and popcorn taste boring to me. I must have a soda to go with it.
I do get the nachos even though Hungry Girl says NEVER to get them because they are apparently 1,200 calories. I don’t care. I love the nachos. I get mine with jalapeños. However, I usually get the popcorn OR the nachos. I rarely have both, unless I’m very, very hungry. Or PMSing.
I also bring my own snacks, but not nuts. I sneak in Sno Caps, because I can find them for a buck and I refuse to fork over three bucks at the cinema. I mix the Sno Caps with my popcorn for a salty/sweet treat.
Hungry Girl mentions that it’s best to share items bought at the cinema and…well, Tom and I usually get our own stuff when we go. This is because Tom is male and eats food faster than Charlie Sheen can spot a bar. When I’m with friends I share. But some of them like popcorn without the butter, which as I’ve stated before I don’t like, so then I’m stuck with all my buttery goodness.
And now I’m craving movie theater nachos. Anyone want to go to the movies with me? We can see the new Adam Sandler film Just Go With It.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.
----------------------
To hate the word “baby bump.” Celebrity columnists seem to love this phrase and it makes me cringe.
To be grateful to the people who offered to send me Dunkaroos, which I can never find over here. It's much appreciated but I guess I'll just cheat and dip graham crackers in frosting like others suggested.
To wonder why people want autographs from the girls on Teen Mom. I came across a blog where the blogger went on about how excited she was to meet Maci and how thrilled she was to get her autograph. Um?
To think it’s cool that Henry Cavill, who played Henry VIII’s best friend Charles in The Tudors, was cast as the new Superman. He wasn’t my eye candy on the show. That award went to Torrance Coombs, who played Thomas Culpepper. Henry is nice to look at but he’s just not my type.
To probably be the only one NOT watching the Super Bowl this weekend. I’m rooting for the Packers, only because I like their uniform colors more. Sorry Steelers fans.
To be ready for the Shamrock Shake to return (it comes out in March!)
To love watching Pawn Stars. I need to check out that shop one of these days.
To be freezing. Our high today is -4. I’m ready for summer.
To hope that Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice, stays on track. He was only in rehab for 12 days before checking himself out.
To be curious on what Alexandra from the Dr. Phil family has to say. She’s apparently on the show this Thursday. Her kids have all been taken away from her since she does drugs and she loves to make excuses for herself.
To let the kids watch The Simpsons. I probably shouldn’t seeing as Natalie goes “d’oh” when she’s frustrated at times and she once went, “Mmmmmm. Donuts.” (Of course she probably learned that from me. I get pretty excited when I see a donut.)
----------------------
To hate the word “baby bump.” Celebrity columnists seem to love this phrase and it makes me cringe.
To be grateful to the people who offered to send me Dunkaroos, which I can never find over here. It's much appreciated but I guess I'll just cheat and dip graham crackers in frosting like others suggested.
To wonder why people want autographs from the girls on Teen Mom. I came across a blog where the blogger went on about how excited she was to meet Maci and how thrilled she was to get her autograph. Um?
To think it’s cool that Henry Cavill, who played Henry VIII’s best friend Charles in The Tudors, was cast as the new Superman. He wasn’t my eye candy on the show. That award went to Torrance Coombs, who played Thomas Culpepper. Henry is nice to look at but he’s just not my type.
To probably be the only one NOT watching the Super Bowl this weekend. I’m rooting for the Packers, only because I like their uniform colors more. Sorry Steelers fans.
To be ready for the Shamrock Shake to return (it comes out in March!)
To love watching Pawn Stars. I need to check out that shop one of these days.
To be freezing. Our high today is -4. I’m ready for summer.
To hope that Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice, stays on track. He was only in rehab for 12 days before checking himself out.
To be curious on what Alexandra from the Dr. Phil family has to say. She’s apparently on the show this Thursday. Her kids have all been taken away from her since she does drugs and she loves to make excuses for herself.
To let the kids watch The Simpsons. I probably shouldn’t seeing as Natalie goes “d’oh” when she’s frustrated at times and she once went, “Mmmmmm. Donuts.” (Of course she probably learned that from me. I get pretty excited when I see a donut.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
