Cute Grocery Store Pepsi Delivery Guy

So, it's New Year's Eve Day and I wake up at 7:00 a.m. I lay there and debate if I should get up and go to the store now to just get it over with because somehow, I am hosting a rather large neighborhood New Year's Eve festival tonight, and as the minutes tick away toward countdown, the guest list keeps climbing. (So, come on by if you're in the 'hood.)

I decide just to forego any more sleep, get up and throw on whatever clothes are nearest my bed, brush the gunk from my teeth (and the tongue--you always must brush your tongue, and now, you will probably be thinking of Manic Mom whenever you attempt this hygenical habit), and head out.

I am also heading out for the last grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahot of the year, and possibly of my life (see previous resolution post). It was a good thing the barrista chick put too much sugar-free vanilla in it and it didn't taste all that great and that I burned my tongue (yes, that same tongue I previously brushed). So, this is probably a blessing that my final grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahotsoIburnedmytonguehot was not anything I remotely enjoyed. Farewell, thee starbucks, hello an extra $15 a week.

I take my list and weave through the aisles at the store, grateful I have decided to get this chore over with, because we all know how I get panic attacks whenever I walk into the grocery store, or the kitchen for that matter. It's no wonder I have a problem with food -- I can't cook, I hate grocery stores. Why do I have a weight problem when anything involving shopping or cooking gives me a panic attack?!?! I guess it's the eating part I can do just fine.

I am browsing the tonic waters, trying to decide if I should get diet tonic water or regular, and please, help me out on this one -- IT'S WATER! So, there's fattening water, or non-fattening water, and how do the two differ? Holy cripes.

I am ready to exit the aisle and move onto the next food search from my list and I realize I am baracaded in by a crate full of Pepsi products and a cute Pepsi delivery guy. A young, cute, Pepsi delivery guy.

Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy is standing there, unsure of what to do because he needs to get into the aisle and we are both in each other's way. So, rather than turn my cart around and have to maneuver away so he cannot see my fat butt, I decide to make a joke and come at him head on with my cart, which, by the way, is happily stocked with Pepsi two-liter products that are on sale.

He's standing there, with some kind of grin on his face, and I can't tell what it means, like is he annoyed that I'm in the way, and he's just standing there trying to be polite, or does he think it's funny that I have to move around him?

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying!" I joke. And smile. Of course, I smile.

Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy says, "I was just thinking I like your sweatshirt."

I look over my shoulder, blush, look down at my sweatshirt. He's talking to me. He likes my sweatshirt. Is it because I am jiggling? I didn't put on a bra! Oh my, and I blush some more.

I look down again at my sweatshirt. It's like 10 years old and I stole it from my younger brother and it's gray and black and it says Polo Jeans Co. Ralph Lauren. Not sexy, not cute, not clingy, not attractive. I haven't showered in two days, my hair is kept back by a pair of sunglasses. Hell, I haven't even washed my face!

The only thing I can think of to say is, "Uh, thanks." Like he was offering up some major compliment, or, oh my God, flirting with me!

In my head, I'm singing: He likes my sweatshirt! He likes my sweatshirt! Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy likes my sweatshirt. I sing through the aisle, doing a secret happy dance.

Later, after I check out, I sneak a peak down Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy's aisle, and there he is, being nice to another person, an employee of the store. I steal a glance at him once more, just to put his face and body--that cute, strong, delivery-guy bod--to memory, and I see, for the first time, why he liked my shirt. He is also wearing a gray Polo shirt. Soulmates! I knew there was something there! Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy and I are soulmates! We are wearing matching shirts! But I immediately dismiss this fantasy because we all know in truth, I am a Diet Coke girl.

Nonetheless, Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy has got me thinking. I wonder if he does this just to make unshowered, mussed-up hair, thirty-something moms shopping at ungodly hours of the day feel better about themselves?

And I have to say, wherever you are Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy, even though it meant nothing to you, just by giving me that little spec of acknowledgment, even if you were just making fun of my fashionista look, even if you were slying joking because I was sans bra and a bit jiggly this morning, thanks. Thanks for noticing!

And with that, my friends, I leave you with the final Manic Mom post of 2005. You can shoot down memory lane by going to the September posts here, and clicking to find my archives, or you can just wait for the future installments of the year 2006, where I will hopefully make one of my dreams come true and get a freaking book deal.

Thank you all for taking the time to stop by Manic Mom's Mental Myriads, and for your fun and endearing comments and suggestions, your feedback and your thoughts. I'd love to hear where you plan to be at midnight, and what you plan to be doing at that moment where the year moves up another digit. And, if you're reading this post-2005 and hungover, what did you do to ring in the New Year?

Hope 2006 brings you happy memories, healthy days and whatever in life makes you happiest!
Buh-Bye.

A Cow Chewing Cud (And Her New Year's Resolutions)

That's what it would sound like if you could hear me chewing my gum right now.

What the hell is "Cud" anyway? I'm too lazy right now to look it up.

So, here's a randomly brainstormed resolution list I am going to scale down in the next coming months I am sure, but I guess it's a start, and I bet you can probably all figure out what I'm going to say, right? You probably think, "Oh great, Manic Mom is going to say she needs to stop eating crap and start writing more because she's lately been complaining a lot about eating too much and writing too less.

So, if you guessed that stuff, you're probably right! Here goes:

1. Cut out expensive trips to Starbucks for my grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahot. (Okay, not 'cut-out' as in completely cut out, but maybe just tone down the latte intake to maybe just two times a week. That's do-able, right?)

2. Get my fat ass on the Dread-mill every single day and go for at least two miles or as long as Oprah is interesting. This one, I can do. This one, I MUST DO!

3. Get back on track with Weight Watchers and with counting, (AND WRITING DOWN) daily points intake. One good thing about my holiday weight gain is I can now add a couple points as I think I've managed to work my way up into the higher points-intake bracket, which I guess, actually is NOT A GOOD THING BECAUSE THAT JUST MEANS I GOT FATTER!

4. Attend Weight Watchers meetings weekly.

5. Work it into my schedule so that I am working at least 10 payable hours a week so I can start making some real money.

6. Use every single free hour I am sans children for writing fiction/querying agents/editing novel that currently sucks.

7. Accept the fact that 40 Weeks may never be commercially published if I haven't secured a reputable agent I fall completely in love with (and she/he vice versa with my writing and me) by ... June 30, 2006. There it's on paper, or computer screen, or whatever, so I need to be accountable for this.

8. Finish first draft of Lemons/Not My Memoir novel I am currently letting mull around on various microsoft documents and scrap papers and my mind by sometime in the spring.

9. Attend the writer's conference in April I want to attend.

10. Continue to be the kind, loving, sympathetic, fun, caring, giving, generous, laughable mother that I have been to my three doting and adorable children. Ha. Are you laughing? I am.

11. Scratch #10. Just be a good mommy to my good kids.

12. Have more sex with hubby.

13. Scratch #12. Just be a good wife to my good husband. (Okay, and have a little more sex too.)

14. Prepare at least three weekly, nutritious family dinners where Hubby, Ajers, DivaBitchDoll, Tukey and I can all sit and eat and chat about our day. This will be a rather simple resolution seeing as I got a TERRIFIC Christmas gift that I requested from my in-laws! (Okay, I just tried to find a website to give you a link to it but since I couldn't, I'll just tell you: It is a George Foreman Lean, Mean, Fat-Reducing Machine! And can you believe it, I've made two family meals in a row since getting this amazing gift!)

15. Blog-post daily, but...

16. Limit my surf-time to once or twice a week rather than getting sucked in to reading all my favorite blogs every single day. This will allow Resoltions No. 5 and No. 6 to happen easily, I'm sure.

17. I should say no French Fries or chocolate, but that would be okay if I write the amounts down and allocate WW points for these treats.

18. Of course, I almost forgot this one. It has to do with drinking. Which I am going to try not to drink for the first few weeks of January, and then, once I see how much more enriched my life has become, maybe I'll enter myself into the Twelve Step Program... Nah, maybe, if I can abstain for a few weeks, I will slowly allow myself a couple glasses of wine each weekend, you know, just so I can sit and relax and reflect on how much more enriched my life has become because of these resolutions!

19. Will think of more to come, but for now, I'm going to work on No. 10 and 11. Okay, not really, but kind of... I'm going to bond with them while I put the adorable and doting little rats to bed! And then, I'm going to go write something that will probably be crappy, but at least I'll be working toward some of my resolutions.

PS... We all know all of these resolutions are not realistic, but I figure if I at least make a list, it's a start. What resolutions are you going to attempt?

Post-Holiday Fat Girl Is Here!

Dinner two nights in a row has been frosted walls from the Gingerbread House and Diet Coke.

There is a need for Rolaids because of heartburn that hadn't existed before.

Can no longer look into a mirror at myself without scrutinizing the flab that's gurgling over the upper sides of the underwear...

...and speaking of underwear....

The need has risen to dig deep into the underwear drawer to find the "In-Case-Of Emergency-Wear-These-Bigger-Underwear underwear."

Tukey now refers to my backside as a "big shovvy butt," which translates into "big chubby butt."

Knees crack more than usual when climbing stairs.

Heart-rate speeds up more than usual when climbing stairs, or exerting any kind of mild energy.

Bras, while often usually uncomfortable anyway, are now extremely uncomfortable, therefore as the case being right now, are not worn.

I'm growing my hair longer - a diversionary tactic I've often used when gaining weight... fatter, longer hair; thinner, get hair cut short... and on the same subject...

I am rarely shaving my legs.

The track suits (pretend it's a J.Lo outfit) are out in full force, and jeans are only donned in extreme social emergencies.

The dreadmill is getting dusty.

Breakfast a couple of days ago consisted of a Seven-Layer bar and a Diet Pepsi.

I don't eat breakfast, but am starved by 1:00 p.m. (no need to comment on the importance of breakfast daily--I know! I know!)

During intimate acts between loving partner and myself, instead of thinking about the usual, "What am I going to have to eat later on?" I'm thinking, "Oh wow, I am really fat now." Oh, and still, the usual, "Please hurry up."

But, as bad as I am feeling about my Fat Girl Emerging, I'll let her stay for a few more days because she's not going to be around in 2006, I can tell you that for sure!
And while Fat Girl is okay for the time being, and while she has enjoyed the trips to McDonald's, the stacks and stacks of Christmas cookies and treats, the countless pounds of carbohydrates that have been inhaled the past month, she ain't staying because I've done it before, and I'll do it again. I have absolutely no problem kicking Fat Girl in the ass and telling her to get out of my life because...

Super Power Thinner Girl Will Prevail!

PS... If you feel like voting for a Best Of Mommy blog, even if it's not mine, you can go here to cast your nomination. (I don't know if a Blogger needs more than one nomination, but I imagine if more people voice their thoughts, the better for that Blogger). There are also other categories of fun blogs you may want to know about, so please, check it out, and if you happen to like Manic Mom's Mental Myriads, I would in no way object to you nominating me, or anyone else you like. So, go here to Mommy Bloggers and make sure to include the URL that you want to nominate! Thanks!

Exhale, Deep Sigh, Breathe...

It's over. Ahhhhh.

Just take it all in. The wrapping paper, the boxes, the cardboard crap, the ornaments, the lights, the tree, the holiday candles, and say Ahhhhh.

How terrible is it that I've already started taking down a few decorations? Please, no bah humbugging the Manic. No throwing stones at me! It wasn't intentional. Actually, it is all hubby's fault, but I'll get to why later. First off, a recap of the past few days...

Thursday, we went to a wine-tasting party that was pretty interesting. Most of the guys there wanted to taste other champagne than what was offered by the Sommolier or whatever that guy is called, the Wine Guy. The guys at the party wanted the Champagne of Beers--High Life, Miller Style.

And I have to say, at the past four or five social events, I have done what I haven't done in a while and I'm pretty proud of myself. I have stayed in control. I have not gotten wasted. I have not fallen into Christmas trees, which is more than I can say for some people attending the same events as I. I have not spent the whole next day recovering over a toilet bowl wishing for death. It's been quite refreshing.

And, after New Year's Eve, I am going on a drinking sabbatical. Pick yourself off the floor, but yes, I am going to attempt to not drink for a while. I have yet to determine if that "for a while" is a week or two, or a month or two, but, it's something I've been thinking about and well, it's a place to start.

Anyway, after the wine-tasting party, we had a family day and did the Chicago thing. We've been back here more than a year, and the kids have yet to see Chicago up close and personal. Well, we took the train into the city, toured Sears Tower (rip-off),






the kids took their first taxi ride, we went to Millenium Park and saw the Bean, and to top off the day, we actually rode the Ferris Wheel in the middle of winter!







That night, we went to neighbors' for a great dinner and lots of liquor, but I still held my own, even though some of the guests ended up playing Capture The Flag late night but that's all I can say about that evening.

Christmas Eve we went to church. Oh my gosh, can you believe Manic is R.E.L.I.G.I.O.U.S? Shhh, don't blow my cover, but I love God and Jesus and even went to Catholic school for 11 years (one of those years, a most impressionable one, was spent at a Catholic All-Girl's School -- Boy, are the secrets being revealed tonight or what???). While we're at it, with the religious confessions, I might as well tell you during those Catholic School years, I was chosen to play The Virgin Mary (yes, that virgin) in our Seventh Grade performance of the night Jesus was born. I didn't have any words to say, because apparently, when Mary gave birth to Jesus, nothing happened--maybe the stable boy upped her epidural early on in the evening, because you gotta believe she didn't do that in a stable, surrounded by stinky animals, and hay, and other crap and not have any sort of mind-altering or pain-killing substances to get her through all that!

Digressing here, but, when the play was over, I had to stand and walk out in the procession and when I stood up, I realized my feet had fallen asleep and were all prickly pins-and-needles because the only thing I had been doing for the past 45 minutes was sitting on my knees holding a plastic doll and no blood was being circulated to my lower extremeties. So, I nearly fell off the stage and passed out. Impressionable I tell you.

Christmas morning... well, Christmas Eve, it was a bitch to get Ajers to bed because he is now at that eight-year-old-I-am-very-doubtful-Santa-Can-Hit-All-Those-Houses-In-One-Night-So-I'm-Going-To-Stay-Awake-All-Night stage. Hubby had to sleep with Ajers in the guest bedroom and I think this was one of the first Christmas Eves I have slept alone, in a very, very long time. I woke up in the bed sideways.

So, long story long, and I'm sorry I'm boring you all, but I'm sitting in my New Chair Hubby got me for Christmas, and while it certainly is not the two carat each diamond stud earrings I requested, it might as well be because his faith in my desire to write is just as good! See, he purchased my brand-new ergonomically correct and comfy office chair, a new desk lamp so I can see when I'm writing (which I have forgotten to put on, I just realized) and a new end table so I can put more files and notes and spirals into and not have piles of crap all over the office floor.

And do you know why he purchased these things for me? Because he believes in me, and he believes in my desire to be a published author someday, and his belief just sparks more desire in me to work harder at finding my dream agent, of getting my book in perfect order and of getting a two-book, six-digit (okay, I'll settle for five) publishing contract. And the gifts he has given me might as well be those honking diamond earrings because as soon as I get my first advance for whatever first book I happen to sell, whether it's 40 Weeks or some other unknown novel stuck in the back of my head, or half-written on a spiral, you can bet your bootie that I'm going out and buying myself those damned earrings!

So, that is why I have started taking down decorations. Because Hubby got me some great presents in order to get my writing life organized, and it just so happens that I had to do some cleaning in my office, which led to removing the tree in here, which led to taking down some ornaments, which led to....

It's kind of like that If You Give A Mouse A Cookie book, except this one is called, If You Give Manic A New Chair For Her Office...

Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and if you're wondering what the real meaning of it all is, I learned it on Christmas Eve at the children's service at our church. It's three little words, and they are: I. Forgive. You.

Which, I really didn't understand. I thought he was going to say I Love You, but the whole I. Forgive. You. thing will work because I'll just tell the kids that's what it means and then if they are fighting they'll just have to stop because then I'll just have to threaten them with the words we learned at Christmas church and if they don't forgive each other, then they can bet their little asses there will not be any presents the next year because that's what the Pastor said at church!

And is it too early to start in on the:
"You better watch it! Santa comes in only 363 more days!" ???

Have A Manic Christmas!

In case you've ever wondered where the real Santa resides, he is in Bensalem, PA, at The Neshaminy Mall:











Wishing you all -- family, personal friends, friends I've met through blogging, through writing, through living on the east, to moving back to the midwest, to my neighbors --

Thanks for hanging out with me, for making me laugh, for offering support and suggestions, for commiserating with me, for listening to all my griping about everything!

Wishing you joy and happiness, prosperity and peace, laughter and love throughout the holiday season and through all of 2006!

Happy Holidays!
Manic Mom

Best Of Blog Awards

Wow! My friend and fellow writer, Novelist In Training, nominated me for a Best of Blog in the category of Best Mommy Blog. And I didn't even have to beg her to do so!

I'm not sure how it works, but I'm really excited about this, and I don't know if more nominations mean more chance of winning, but if you'd like to give me a teeny little tiny FREE Christmas present, I would love it if you would pop on over HERE, scroll down to the end and nominate Manic Mom's Mental Myriads for this award!

That would rock, and Caryn/Anna, you rock too! Thanks!

Up next, a photo montage from Manic Beuhler's (Family) Day Off aka Christmas in Chicago Manic Style!

So Many Emotions; So Little Time

Feel like laughing, feel like crying?

Feel like having your daughter nudge you and tell you to "Stop crying!"?

Feel like eating some popcorn, with just a little bit o' butter?

Feel like slamming a humongo Diet Coke that'll make you have to pee six times?

Then go see This Movie, particularly with your family and you'll be doing all this and more. Well, if you buy the popcorn, and the humongo drink, and if you sit near your daughter, if you have a daughter, and if you think it's funny, and endearing and sad, and humorous, and if you like Steve Martin, and that dude from American Pie, you know the dad who catches his son spanking into an apple pie, and if you liked the first one, which really isn't the original because the first one was an original and the movie-first one was a remake of the original, which I think was black and white, and didn't really have the same storyline as the first movie one... well, then, maybe, just maybe you'll like this movie too.

I did. Very much.

Wow, my first movie review. Maybe I should do this for a living? I gave you some good clues, but didn't give the movie away, I probably piqued your interest, maybe made you think you'd want to see this movie, or at the very least, go see some movie so you can get some of that popcorn with a little bit o' butter, and one of those big drinks, and you may choose to get some of those Reese's Pieces, or Junior Mints or Snowcaps (I would definitely vascilate between the Junior Mints or Snowcaps, but didn't tonight because of previous Fat Girl posts), and okay, I'm just going to shut up now and you can decide for yourself if you feel like going to see a movie.

But it was really, really good, and the tears were really streaming down my face. If you go see it, and you don't cry, well, then, we can just assume I was all teary-eyed for hormonal reasons, which it is that time, which makes me rethink things and wonder WHY THE HELL DIDN'T I JUST GET SOME DAMNED SNOWCAPS!?!?

Fat Girl Part Deux

Fat Girl got her ass
on the treadmill
City of Blinding Lights
a little New Order
some Shell-Shock
Babylon and Dave Matthews
Fleetwood Mac and Amazing
got her sweaty.

The cookies are
in the freezer...

For the time being.

The scale, a scare
to bare body
affecting soul
and all
that is lost
if it is gained.

Fat Girl

I see the Fat Girl
coming slowly
appearing in the hips
and thighs,
anxious for seven-layer bars
and butterscotch
Christmas cookies.

While she is
pleasant enough,
(some would agrue,
undeniably,
"She's jolly!")
She's not the person
I want to be around,
to spend time with,
to share my cookies with.

I'd rather sit
with the girl
who worked so hard,
to shed
the outer layer,
of comfort,
denial,
of hidden consequences
and appearance.

The one who thought
about everything,
took responsibilities
and willpower, and
made them hers.

She's still there.
I can see her if
I look hard enough.
She is the happy one;
not the other.

I don't want to lose her,
after I've fought
so hard
to find her.

Where To Get It...

For those of you who have asked where to get the Fill 'Er Up Liquor Pump, if you do a search for Fill 'Er Up Liquor Pump, you'll find many locations including Bed, Bath & Beyond, where I got it, and Linens & Things. It was under $30 at both of these places. I saw it for $79 somewhere online--don't pay that much--that is like 5 bottles of booze right there!

Pre-Christmas Gorge

In keeping with the spirit of eating everything in sight during the holiday season, I came away a huge winner this weekend, and in no particular order, I give you, drumroll please...
Things I ate today:
chocolate-chip pancakes
bacon
butter (for the pancakes)
BTW, I place a piece of bacon in the fold of the buttered chocolate-chip pancake and then eat it like a taco.
broccoli casserole
potatoes
steak leftovers
fudge
muddy buddies (which are chocolate-peanut-butter coated chex mix with powered sugar)
mint magic cookies (which are chocolate cookies with a mint Hershey kiss hidden inside--and yes, I did make them, and I can post the recipe if you want).
nonfatsugarfreevanillalattewithwhipextrahot
diet coke
ice water
potato chips
macaroni and cheese
about 8 chicken nuggets with BBQ sauce
pumpkin cheesecake bread
1/2 bbq chicken sandwich

I think that's about it, but I can't be sure.

Things I haven't done today:
Showered
Pooped

Things I wanted to do today but didn't:
Shower
Go for a run
Wash my face
(you know what)

Things I want to do after I'm off the computer:
Read
Sleep
(you know what again)

Things I will think about doing after I get off the computer:
Writing
Sleeping
How gross I am today
Getting my book published someday
Exercising
Not eating
(same thing as above)

Things I did do today:
Sleep In
Stay in my PJs all day
Bake cookies
Make pancakes
Eat
Clean the kitchen about a hundred times
Feed a bunch of people about a hundred times
Feel fat

Here are some pictures I'd like to share to show you I've been in a festive mood lately and am no longer grappled in depression. I give you the view from our upstairs, looking down at our tree (which, I love to tell everyone I got for $25 the day after Christmas at Target one year, and also, if you'll note, the color theme happens to be of a patriotic nature -- all we had was red, white and blue strands!





And here is the snowman we made. He's really big, but now kinda melty:







And then, lastly, if you're still searching for THE perfect gift for those loved ones who are Professional Alcohol Consumers (aka PACs), you simply cannot go wrong with this gift. And I'll tell you, no one ever, will ever, ever be able to top this gift that I gave to my parents. Not only is it a conversation piece, a wonderful accoutrement to the kitchen decor, it is also extremely functional and fun! Merry Christmas Mom and Dad!

2006 Yet?

I am so ready for it to be January 2, 2006 so I can start my yearly resolutions and give up on them by January 10!

I am eating too much, writing too little. It's bumming me out. But at least my parents are in town teaching the kids the joys of playing Black Jack. Ajer's has taken to saying, "I'm ready for BJ!"

I suggested it might not be appropriate to use an abbreviation.

I'll post more when I have something interesting to say. Hope everyone is being merry and all that good holiday jazz!

Tukey Talk and Diva Devotions

Diva, the other night, when I came downstairs dressed for a formal holiday party:

"You don't look like my mom!"

Okay, so maybe that comment thrilled me a little bit, until the next night when I was tucking her in, she looked closely at my face and said, "You are getting a mustache."

Then Tukey, the other day: "Look mom, I am helping you clean. See, I use my spit and then wipe it off!"

And today, as we were 'gearing up' to go outside to build two awesome snowmen, which I will post pictures sooner or later--as I was getting on Tukey's snowpants, I hiked them up a bit too high for his liking and he said, "You almost gave my wiener a wedgie!"

What the?

"Sex Is Quick And We Love It!"

Guess who has recently been quoted saying that?

Hmmm....

Me.

In the January issue of Glamour, page 66: 11 Things That Really Do Change After Marriage.

The question is, do I love it because it's good, or because it's over quickly? Hee, hee. Check it out while you're waiting in line at the grocery store.

Deck The Halls With Cheerful Spirit!

Okay! I'm done with the patheticness attitude and am now a cheery little Christmas elf!

I've just had my Christmas cards done, which, I must say, came out really good because I MADE THEM MYSELF, and instead of going somewhere to have cards made for a buck a piece, the average cost of each of mine is about 30 cents! I am thinking about starting up a Christmas card making business. Any takers for 2006?

So, today, I have eaten about six Christmas cookies, some reduced fat cinnamon cake from Starbucks, a grandenonfatpeppermintmochahalfdecafwithalittlewhip (did you notice I've made a slight change from the usual?)... and now I'm going to top it all off with a diet pepsi.

I am happy today! See what a little sugar in the bloodstream can do for you. Off to start my cards and then I've got to begin wrapping presents. Hope everyone out there is getting into the spirit. It took me damn long enough.

Cheers, and thanks for all the nice comments always when I'm crabby. You guys are better than a therapist! xo

Two Words

I. AM. A. CRABBY. ASS. BITCH.

Okay, that was six words but already I feel better. I just am so not into the commercialism of this holiday it is driving me insane, crazy, nutso.

What is there to look forward to in lugging crap up from the basement, putting up a tree that is a hodge-podge looking thing that I put so many damn strands of lights on it looks like I used green duct tape all over the branches, plus it's fake anyway. It's pathetic.

Then there's thinking about the presents I've yet to get, the presents I've yet to figure out who I need to buy for, the presents I need to wrap, the presents I need to mail, the presents I need to return already because they're not the right items.

I'm sorry, but I am just so not into this. I could be spending my time doing other, more productive things, and don't anyone suggest a soup kitchen or I will scream!

I am doing too much eating of crap -- gorging myself on stupid cookies that aren't even homemade, and then feeling totally gross after eating them. I am not doing any of the writing I want to be doing. I am not... ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I just feel like screaming. I just wish there was some way to get more out of this. The craziness of the gift-giving, crap everywhere, then you have to clean it all up. And then you have to get those damn little twisty-things off the freaking Barbie dolls and trucks and Rescue Heroes that make your fingers hurt so badly because some little evil person invented those things to make moms and dads angry.

I just want it to be all over. Does this make me a horrible person? Don't answer if you're going to say yes.

BAH HUMBUG.

Brilliant Quote. Brilliant I Tell Ya!

"... okay, I just need to take care of myself right now," ... "I need to be able to go to yoga and work out and just read scripts and go on auditions, because that's what makes me happy...Like, papers don't really make me happy."

Name That Star. And it's not Manic Mom.

A Post About Nothing

No idea where this one is going folks, so either bare with the rant or stop reading now. It's not going to be of anything of importance, just whatever's on my mind. First off, I had to laugh at my cute mom today because she cunningly told me, "Ha, I found where your blog is!"

And I was like, "Duh, I sent you the link."

She was cute though because she told me she and dad get the AARP magazine and there was an article in it about blogging. She said, "Older people blog too! It's not just for writers!" How cute is that? I also suggested to her that if she wanted to, she could go to the NEXT BLOG and find a bunch of blogs to read.

See, I told you this was going to be about nothing, but I am clearing my head right now. So there.

It is snowing like a banshee out there, and I shoveled the driveway THREE TIMES today, count 'em... one... two... three. I love to shovel actually. It's a different kind of exercise and it was fun out there today. The snow (which 99 percent of the time, I hate) is falling really pretty today, and the kids were having a blast out there, and I already lost my train of thought here.

I seriously might go get a Bailey's on ice and come back and then maybe I'll know what the freak I'm talking about...

Snow. Oh yeah, it was so pretty, I even took some pictures that will live and die either in my digital camera or on my computer because I haven't gotten any pics developed from there in like forever.

Still not talking about anything I thought I would be talking about but this is kind of like exercise for my fingers and my brain and I have missed writing a lot lately, and I think that's maybe why I wrote the previous post. I feel like I am spending so much time clicking on blogs and reading them and going to my Yahoo chick lit group and commenting a lot and not doing as much BZ work as I should be, which is a paying gig and I can control how much money I make that way, and here I am not doing the things I truly desire.

I'm annoyed with my whole book I wrote because it's not going anywhere, but I am going to be persistent and keep trying to get it out there. And I'm annoyed I'm not making myself sit in front of this computer and write a measley five pages a night because I know if I do that each and every night, I will get excited about whatever it is that I'm writing and I will write more than just five pages a night. Man, you should see how very fast I am typing right now. It's almost as if my brain is talking too fast and my hands can't keep up... whew... phone's ringing... please hold...

Okay, that was Hubby. He is on his way home. Had a late-night function in the city. And here's another thing I was thinking about. Today and last night, he had stuff going on at the Sears Tower. On like the 99th Floor. It kind of freaked me out because why wouldn't anyone target Chicago next? Then I was thinking, and this sounds very terrible to say, but I would like to tell him not to try to be a hero if anything were to ever happen and to just get the hell out of that place if it got smashed. I always think weird stuff like that. Like I never delete his phone messages just in case it's the last one he leaves me. Or stuff like that. I know it's kooky, but whatever.

What else was I going to talk about. I told you not to click on because this was just going to be a rant about nothing. And I'm right, right? So, yesterday's post. I was just annoyed and having a crappy day and tired of just coming in here, checking emails, going through blogs... and I decided to turn the damn thing off. It is just annoying me and somedays if I don't turn it on, the temptation is not there to come in here and do stuff that is non-productive but enjoyable. I think I need to limit my blog-read/surf 'net time. I need to spend some more time doing the work I get paid to do, and I need to spend some more time writing the fiction I am dying to write.

Here's another way my head works. It's like I'll be doing something, like shoveling the snow for instance, and it was very peaceful out there cuz it's late and the kids were all in bed and the snow is falling all crisp and clear outside and the shwoosh shwoosh rhythm of the shovel and the way I move the snow is almost like a dance. I know that sounds totally weird but it's like put one foot forward, scoop the snow, move the snow, put the foot back. I have a system for it and it calms me, kind of like when I'm coloring. So, I'm doing the shwoosh of the shovel, and taking in the quiet of the night and watching the snow fall and looking at the pretty lights out and my mind is telling me I wish I could write about this experience I'm having right now. It's probably how photographers think. Like they probably always wish they have their camera with them to document the moment. But then I'm wondering if my mind is always thinking about writing what I'm experiencing, am I missing the point, am I being taken out of the moment and why can't I just enjoy an experience without thinking I need to write it down. Why isn't my memory enough.

Okay, I'm still not done. I'm not going to be done until my brain turns off and it will happen eventually. This is a free-writing thingamagig and we used to do this in my writing class and I tell ya, if I want, I could probably keep going and going and talking about anything right now .... oops, I just stopped thinking for a moment.

Oh, Christa just signed on for IM. I bet she might send a note to say hi and if she does I will have to tell her I'm in the middle of a free-form blog entry that is totally the most boring thing I've ever written but it might also be the most soul-baring because right now I'm just writing whatever is popping into my head. Oh, and there was another thing I thought I wanted to talk about but now I just forgot it so maybe it's okay that I can't remember it. And no, in case anyone is wondering, I didn't get that Bailey's when I got up to get the phone and I am currently drug-free and sober.

Hmmm. My contact is sticking to my eyeball. Did you know I wore contacts? Oh, I remember what I was going to say. Confessional Tuesday is now a dead topic since two Tuesdays have passed and no one had missed it. I just found on someone else's blog a Thursday 13 and I thought I could maybe do that one but you know what? I think I've probably told you more than 13 things in this entry here alone.

I got a massage today. I totally treated myself. I was in a funky mood yesterday night, hence the post and I decided to boycot the computer (and we can all see what good that did me now, can't we?) Anyway, Diva (I think it's mean when I call her BitchDoll, but really it is a term of endearment) and Ajers got to school, then I took Tukey to his 9 -1 p.m. program today. I went and got a massage with some grapefruit aromatherapy. It was pretty good. The massage. Except I was a little cold and I finally got the nerve to tell her the bed thing was cold and she realized it wasn't heating. I think I should have gotten a discount or something for being cold. But prior to the massage, I told her I was going to try not to talk because usually when I get a massage (and please, it is only once or twice a year), I end up talking to the masseuse during the whole thing, and come on, how freaking stupid is that? To talk to a stranger when you're trying to relax. (Okay, some might argue that it's pretty stupid to pay a stranger to rub aromatherapy oils all over your naked body, but that's besides the point right now.) So, I got my massage and was totally completely relaxed and I thought I could get home and wrap some presents before it was time to get Tukey, but then I thought, screw it. I came home, went up to our room, set the alarm clock for 12:30 p.m., got all snuggly under the covers, tucking my knees up and curling up tight into a ball, and I also throw the covers over my head. I am really good about sleeping under stuff and still being able to not suffocate (Just ask my college roommates who witnessed all too many times THE DEPRESSION SLEEP in which I would bury myself into the covers, pull a pillow over my head and drown myself in the comfort of the blankets. Boy, those were fun times.) But this 'nappy-napperson' was great today. I mean, who the hell takes a nap from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. aside from maybe a one-year old? Then, I totally zonked out and slept like a freaking rock under a rock. The alarm went off and I was eased out of my slumber by some lovely Christmas tunes that woke me up. Got up, got Tukey, then, to further enhance the "I'm-going-to-treat-myself-nicely-today" day, we then went to get a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatteextrahot and a sugar cookie filled with M&Ms.

Okay. I'm done now. Thanks for listening. Everything is much better now.

UGH.

I'm turning this thing off. I don't know what I'm expecting to get out of this but all I'm getting is a big, fat headache and a bunch of lost time.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Super Mom and Manic Mom Lunch Together!

Manic Mom is lunching with Super Mom today. I'm really nervous. I hope I don't spill red sauce on my top, and if I do, I hope Super Mom doesn't whip out her Swiffer right then and there to clean the mess up. I will be mortified!

If you have a mom, are a mom, know a mom, and are in need of a great gift for those Moms in your life, go out and get Confessions of Super Mom for her. And no, I have not be monetarily endorsed to say such a thing. You know Manic Mom - she just tells it like it is, and this is a really fun read! Especially the part about the kid puking and Super Mom is reprimanding him, yet trying to comfort him at the same time.

Of course, if it were Manic Mom, she'd probably sit down right next to the kid puking and tell him, "Honey, been there, done that; I feel your pain." Then grab the bottle and do a shot, but of course, "Confessions of Manic Mom" has yet to be contracted by an agent as of yet. Or written, so that might just have to wait.

Yesterday

DivaBitchDoll stayed home from school yesterday. Kind of a "I'm-a-little-bit-sick-but-mostly-in-need-of-a-mental-health-day" if you ask me. Anyway, I was rushing around the house in the afternoon doing whatever it is I do all day, (bon-bons and soap operas, house calls from the pool boy) and then I was looking for my Target receipt because I have a bunch of stupid lights that do not work that need to be returned (plus Daddy Scrooge hates to do lights, so the lights that were working would not be displayed anywhere on our house anytime soon).

This Target receipt was in excess of $600 (Santa Clause, you know), so I was getting so pissed that I couldn't find it, and was huffing and mumbling all around the house searching frantically through my purse, cursing the receipt-stealing-fairy (because we all know there's really one out there!), and I decide I need to calm down so I grab my *happy pills* and pop one.

Sidenote: Mom, before you start thinking I'm a drug addict, I take like one of these every three weeks or so.

Anyway, DivaBitchDoll sees me in this flurry of anxiousness, sees me popping a pill and asks:

"Is that a headache pill or a frustrated pill?"

How are they so freaking smart?

What Would You Do?

Let's say you were at the grocery store and all of a sudden, you look down by the money machine and you spot a ten dollar bill. A quick shoulder-to-shoulder glance indicates to you that no one else is around, no one else has spotted it, no one is searching for missing money.

Do you pick it up and pocket it?

Do you take it over to the in-store bank and ask if anyone has lost money, even though you know the guy will say, "I'll keep it here in case someone comes looking for it" and then he keeps it anyway?

Do you stand there with money in hand and wait for someone to come claim it?

Do you pocket it but then feel guilty as if you have stolen money?

Do you go straight to Starbucks for a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatte and a hot cocoa and cookie for your kid who stayed home from school because she 'kind of' felt sick this a.m.?

A Great Bed

You know, I have to say it was such a great feeling waking up in a hotel room after an evening out with my husband and not finding myself on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, but rather in the luxurious bed with fluffy pillows, clean-smelling sheets and a duvet cover that just rocked.

Ah. It is such a great feeling to not have a hangover, to have the whole day spread out in front of you, to know you have the option of doing whatever you want, that you're not forced to lie in bed all day long and wish for death.

You know what I wish? I wish people could just go up to people and say exactly what they want to say and not feel funny about it. I remember this one time in college (okay, everybody think of the band-camp girl in American Pie -- Once, at college...) we were tailgating before a football game and I saw THE MOST GORGEOUS GUY in the entire world, and I had just a good enough buzz from probably some really cheap and crappy beer, that I just went right on up to the guy and told him what I thought of his looks. I went right up there and said, "You are the most beautiful guy I have ever seen in my entire life."

Boy, did that piss off his girlfriend who was standing right next to him! Ha, kidding, there was no girlfriend right next to him, I just thought that would be funny to say.

Anyway, I guess the reason you can't just go up to someone and say your true thoughts about the person is because they look at you kind of strange and think you're pretty weird, which is what that guy did, and probably because I was weird.

But, at this function over the weekend (and isn't it interesting how I now refer to things as a 'function' rather than what it really was because my mom was worried about what I told you all, so I'm trying to be incognito so you don't know I was really attending an event where there was a chick in a white dress and lots of free booze.)

Oops.

So, there was this really hot guy there. That's all I wanted to tell you. I just thought it would be neat if we lived in a world where you could tell someone who was hot that he was hot. I'm not sure it would boost their morale coming from a stay-at-home married mom of three who is gaining weight by the pounds daily, but wouldn't it make a person feel nice if they received random comments such as that? I think so.

Here's something else I wish, while I'm on this "I Wish" rant. I wish the hypothetical 'you' were able to know what a person thought of you upon meeting you. Like, I would like to know someone's immediate reaction to meeting someone -- did they think you were nice, did they think you had a skin problem, bad hair, a horrible figure, nice boobs, whatever. But of course, sometimes this could possibly ruin a person's whole life to know these things, so maybe that's not a good idea.

But I also think it would be cool for there to be a website where a person could submit a picture of themselves, or maybe of just their figure, and random readers could log on, and search the database and critique the person. Like, for instance, you could comment on a person's figure and say, 'that person has a nice butt, but needs to work on her upper arms.' Or 'she should really be smiling more.' or 'that person has the ideal figure.' I don't know, this is just something I think about sometimes. Like I'll walk down the street and see a beautifully put-together stylish woman and wonder, what does she think when she sees me walking by? Is she judging me, wondering about my life as I wonder about her? Does she see me with my three kids and wish she had three kids? Does she see me with three kids and think I must be a nutcase and why the hell can't I do something with my hair, put some makeup on and wear some shoes that are at least a bit stylish?

That's the kind of stuff I think about. What do you think about?

Upon Waking

I dreamed about him last night. I didn't want to, I never want to. I don't think about him during the day so why does he creep back into my most solitude moments of sleep, disrupting me, making me think of the past, causing me to wake feeling crappy?

Liquid Kid Chat

Me: Tukey, do you want something to drink? I can get you water.

Tukey: Milk.

Me: No, you can't have milk in the family room.

Tukey: But Mom! Milk is more healthier!
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And later this evening, I poured myself a glass of wine, and believe it folks, I wasn't really into drinking it so it has sat here on my bookshelf for the last hour. Ajers came in and we had this conversation:

Ajers: How old do I have to be before I can drink the wine at church?

Me: I dunno.

Ajers: Well, I've tried red wine, but I never tried white.

Me: Hmmm. (not really paying attention to him, if you can gather by my dialogue here)

Ajers: Can I have a sip?

Me: Sure. When you're done, you can put it in the kitchen for me.

Ajers, in absolute shock: I have to drink ALL of this?

I'm Riding A Roller Coaster, Dudes.

One minute I'm up, the next, knock me the hell down.

That's really all I feel like saying, but I guess I should elaborate.

Two rejections today. One, a gracious typical form letter.

The other from an agent who I thought I would have a chance with. We had SO MUCH IN COMMON. She has three kids; I have three kids. She is an agent; I am looking for an agent. She lives in the United States; I live in the United States. Her first name begins with a vowel. My first name begins with a vowel.

I mean, come on, how much more could the planets be alligned?

Except, she didn't fall in love with my main character. She thought the "tone was too cute at times" and there wasn't "enough warmth and empathy." She did say she thinks I have a great idea for a novel and the "world is probably ready for a book about a woman who is having a baby just because she is pregnant, and not because she is necessarily armed and ready and trying." She thought my idea was "refreshing."

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I am thisclose to quitting my 'job' as a wanna-be-novelist.

Okay, maybe t h i s c l o s e.

Because, truly, I do want it badly enough, and isn't that (and a novel worth a shit) really all that it's about?

In other roller coaster news, An Up: I kicked some major ass in the shopping department today. And my philosophy when it comes to shopping for Christmas is one gift for so-and-so, one gift for me. One gift for so-and-so, another gift for me. So far, my Christmas is going to be great. I've got a new purse, three new tops from Old Navy, four scented candles from Hallmark (half-price) and a 16-month calendar that will all be waiting for me under the tree. Heh heh. I also bought a new pair of shoes (well, three actually, but I'm really only going to keep one pair), but these don't count as a Christmas present because they're for a wedding I must attend this weekend, where I will know no one 'cept a few fellow 'acquaintances' of Hubby's, and we all know what happens when I go to functions where I know no one. Be prepared for a fun puking-in-the-new-shoes or in-the-car, or on-a-hotel-wall entry early next week... Ha.

I also banged out most of the kid shopping, and Target should be thanking me very much. Ajers is on to the whole Santa thing and I'm getting sick of lying to him though. He knows. He's in second grade. He knows about the tooth fairy cuz I couldn't keep lying to him about that so I just told him. I could sooo never have an affair. I couldn't lie about it!

So, shopping went well, rejections sucked. I didn't eat too much today, except for half a bag of those Tootsie roll VANILLA Midgees, which are INCREDIBLE and I'm always sorting through kids' birthday goodie bags or Halloween bags looking for those blue and white wrapped Tootsie rolls, and then, lo and behold, I find a bag of them at Target. I ate about half the bag while I shopped, and then called my friend for shoe advice, which is a whole 'nother story:

Nylons, open-toed shoes for the holidays, no nylons? Freeze your calves off, get pedicures? Wear nylons? Cripes. That was a pain in the arse to figure out, and after searching for the shoes, which I've found and I think are perfect, and if I could find them online, I could post a link here, then I had to figure out the whole wear nylons/don't wear nylons, get a pedicure, skip a pedicure. Ladies, for holiday cold functions, what do you recommend? What's in style? What do you do? Probably doesn't really matter much 'cuz by 10 p.m. I'll probably be shoeless and puking into a plant.

Think Spongebob when you read this next line, in that funky voice when they're trying to show time passing:

Twenty. Minutes. Later...

(How many of you just read that out loud?)

I just realized why I'm all jazzed up. Before I took Tukey to Tot Soccer, I stopped at our neighborhood Starbucks because I 1). Wanted to and 2). remembered they were 'hosting' a neighborhood holiday open house and I figured there might be a chance for a free grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhip. So, I lock all three kids in the car (okay, folks, let me have it, but really, they are old enough now not to do anything damaging other than kill each other in the four minutes I'm in Starbucks), and when I order my grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhip, and hot chocolates for the kiddies, I am told "It's taken care of." And I, of course, being Manic Mom, play dumb and say, "Oh, yeah, you're having that little open house right now aren't you?" Clever, aren't I?

And I seriously considered going back on the way home to get another freebie, but had I had anymore caffeine I might be tempted to tell you all about the 'encounter' Hubby and I had this a.m. And we all know that's taboo because Mom wasn't too happy with the amount of info I shared on this blog, hence the new and improved 'anonyminity' here, plus the fact that I gave Mom the URL to the new blog.

Finally (and I'm sure you're all breathing a huge, freaking sigh of relief and your eyes are probably still bleeding because I continue to go on and on with this rant), I forgot about another "Down" on this roller coaster today.

BitchDoll will no longer accept public kisses from me.

And that, my friends, is an extremely low point in a mother's life.