When's the last time you TeePeed someone's house?
Well, if Manic Mom were answering that question, it would have to be last night. And just by writing this, I am now admitting it, and I know the person whose home was vandalized reads this.
So, to P and B--if there was a flag to steal, we woulda done that too!
Last night was a non-mild Mom night for Manic, complete with a stretch SUV limo, four couples, two or three (or twelve maybe?) iced batches of caramel-appletinis, awesome music by our favorite band, Poi Dog Pondering, theft of the band's water and the set-list, late night munchies (and damn you Limo-driver guy for refusing to take us for burritos at 1 a.m.! What kind of service IS THAT?), and then, to culminate the evening, a classic toilet-papering in the 'hood.
One of the cool things about going out on a Friday night is you wake up (hopefully!) and you realize, hey, it's ONLY Saturday... I have two days to recover!
I will have to post photos later, because now, I need a serious nap.
Good times, good times. Hope you're having a fun weekend!
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
I'm Here
But life is getting in the way of Blogging. It happens sometimes, huh? Nothing bad, really, just busy being a mom, raising three kids, and trying to clean out the freaking closets!
Here's one for the books. I went grocery shopping today, and we all know I can't cook. I don't know what the freak I bought, but I spent 342 freaking dollars. No liquor, hardly any meat, no toiletries... I was, and am, mortified, especially now that I'm going to have to magically create meals from that absurd amount of God-knows-what-the-heck-I-bought.
Hope everyone is well! Be back soon... Maybe I'll have recipes to share.
Here's one for the books. I went grocery shopping today, and we all know I can't cook. I don't know what the freak I bought, but I spent 342 freaking dollars. No liquor, hardly any meat, no toiletries... I was, and am, mortified, especially now that I'm going to have to magically create meals from that absurd amount of God-knows-what-the-heck-I-bought.
Hope everyone is well! Be back soon... Maybe I'll have recipes to share.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Mild Mom
I'm so mild these days, I'm not even posting. First off, I need to do some spring cleaning in this house. I know, I know, it's fall already! Well, I'm a bit behind and the drawers are overflowing, and it's time to take stock of who fits into what and what no longer fits any of the children.
I was reminded of the fact that my house is a cluttered mess at 6:30 a.m. when Hubby left for work. Okay, okay, I know this, but do ya think if you mention this to me first thing upon waking that it's going to put me in a very good frame of mind the whole rest of the day?
Nuh-uh!
But whatever tactic it was on his part, I do agree that closets need to be re-organized, worn-out clothes need to be removed, and old toys need to be tossed.
I hate doing this shit.
I was reminded of the fact that my house is a cluttered mess at 6:30 a.m. when Hubby left for work. Okay, okay, I know this, but do ya think if you mention this to me first thing upon waking that it's going to put me in a very good frame of mind the whole rest of the day?
Nuh-uh!
But whatever tactic it was on his part, I do agree that closets need to be re-organized, worn-out clothes need to be removed, and old toys need to be tossed.
I hate doing this shit.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Quote
"A professional writer is an
amateur who didn't quit."
-- Richard Bach
No idea who Richard Bach is but I like the way he thinks.
Later, "How Manic Mom turned Mild Mom over the weekend..."
amateur who didn't quit."
-- Richard Bach
No idea who Richard Bach is but I like the way he thinks.
Later, "How Manic Mom turned Mild Mom over the weekend..."
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Just Another Day In Suburbia
Okay, so once again, I am jazzed up today. What is going on!? I did yoga this a.m. and then we hit Starbucks, where I will share a funny story at the end of this post. I am switching things around at Starbucks and am slurping up a nonfatpeppermintmochanowhip, getting into the fall spirit, even though the pumpkin spice lattes are more fall and the peppermint mochas are more winter. Yesterday, I EVEN put up the few Halloween decorations we have, and I've gotten compliments from neighbors about how cute it looks and it's all just crap!
If you know me, or even if you don't, you'll know I am not one of those 'decorate-every-crevasse-in-the-house' kinda gals. Takes too much effort, takes up too much space. But the few things we have, like the large black hanging spider, and the mesh pumpkin signs are out, and the neighborhood kids think that's so cool. It's all about the kids anyway, right? My one good neighbor (not that I only have ONE good neighbor), but this one in particular decorates her whole house, and she admitted to me that she's got too much crap. I told her, "Who cares? Your kids are going to grow up and remember how much fun each and every holiday was, and how festive the house they grew up in was!" Isn't that what's important? Making the memories for the little ones? I think so.
So, the Starbucks story:
You know, you go to yoga class first thing in the morning, so you roll outta bed, send the kids who go on the bus to the bus, cart the one kid who doesn't go on the bus over to the mom's house whose turn it is to watch the youngsters.
You throw on whatever is there, a jog bra, some crappy black pants and a t-shirt. Your underwear ride up when you do the downward dog but nobody cares, and nobody can see because their heads are all stuck between their legs anyway, hair hanging down over their face, so they can't see that you're wearing the six-year-old Victoria Secret's high-cut briefs with the elastic losing its hold.
Right? You're not pretty. You're not trying to be pretty. It's freaking yoga. And you're just happy to be doing something healthy and calming for your body.
We finish yoga and it's become our habit (a bad, expensive one) to go to Starbucks afterward to grab coffee for us and for the mom who gets stuck at her home with three kids--five and under--while the others of us go do yoga. We switch it up so everyone gets a turn, but lucky me managed to do yoga twice this week. Namaste baby.
But, that's not the story. That's just the beginning of it.
So, we get to Starbucks and we run into like four other women from our neighborhood, so we're all chatty and jazzed up and laughing and ordering, and this guy comes up to us, out of the blue, and he was kind of good-looking, but much too young for me, of course, and he was wearing jeans and a pull-over fleece and some funky artsy hat and he goes, I kid you not, he says:
"Looks like we all got the memo saying it's 'Dress Like You Don't Give A Shit' Day!"
Can YOU Believe it!?!?!? How would you have responded to THAT one?
If you know me, or even if you don't, you'll know I am not one of those 'decorate-every-crevasse-in-the-house' kinda gals. Takes too much effort, takes up too much space. But the few things we have, like the large black hanging spider, and the mesh pumpkin signs are out, and the neighborhood kids think that's so cool. It's all about the kids anyway, right? My one good neighbor (not that I only have ONE good neighbor), but this one in particular decorates her whole house, and she admitted to me that she's got too much crap. I told her, "Who cares? Your kids are going to grow up and remember how much fun each and every holiday was, and how festive the house they grew up in was!" Isn't that what's important? Making the memories for the little ones? I think so.
So, the Starbucks story:
You know, you go to yoga class first thing in the morning, so you roll outta bed, send the kids who go on the bus to the bus, cart the one kid who doesn't go on the bus over to the mom's house whose turn it is to watch the youngsters.
You throw on whatever is there, a jog bra, some crappy black pants and a t-shirt. Your underwear ride up when you do the downward dog but nobody cares, and nobody can see because their heads are all stuck between their legs anyway, hair hanging down over their face, so they can't see that you're wearing the six-year-old Victoria Secret's high-cut briefs with the elastic losing its hold.
Right? You're not pretty. You're not trying to be pretty. It's freaking yoga. And you're just happy to be doing something healthy and calming for your body.
We finish yoga and it's become our habit (a bad, expensive one) to go to Starbucks afterward to grab coffee for us and for the mom who gets stuck at her home with three kids--five and under--while the others of us go do yoga. We switch it up so everyone gets a turn, but lucky me managed to do yoga twice this week. Namaste baby.
But, that's not the story. That's just the beginning of it.
So, we get to Starbucks and we run into like four other women from our neighborhood, so we're all chatty and jazzed up and laughing and ordering, and this guy comes up to us, out of the blue, and he was kind of good-looking, but much too young for me, of course, and he was wearing jeans and a pull-over fleece and some funky artsy hat and he goes, I kid you not, he says:
"Looks like we all got the memo saying it's 'Dress Like You Don't Give A Shit' Day!"
Can YOU Believe it!?!?!? How would you have responded to THAT one?
Can You See Me?
Some of you have emailed to let me know my blog is inactive... when you click on Manic, do you view it?
I don't want to be tossed out into the unknown Blogosphere, so if you're having trouble viewing, please email me, but duh, if you're having trouble viewing, then you aren't even able to see this post, so pretend it doesn't exist.
Ah, shit, that brings us back to square one.
Can ya see me now?
I don't want to be tossed out into the unknown Blogosphere, so if you're having trouble viewing, please email me, but duh, if you're having trouble viewing, then you aren't even able to see this post, so pretend it doesn't exist.
Ah, shit, that brings us back to square one.
Can ya see me now?
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Jazzed Up!
I'm totally jazzed up from a Nonfatpumpkinspicelattenowhip! The weather is unfreakinbelievable, air so crisp, sun so sunny, sky so bluey! I almost want to go outside and do some little ditty dance like maybe one from High School Musical or something peppy and happy. I hope I stay in this mood through winter.
Right now, today, feels pretty darn good! Almost perfect.
Hope yours is sunny too!
Oh, and check out this photo of the most beautiful little baby EVER!
Cockadoodle-doodle-doo!
Right now, today, feels pretty darn good! Almost perfect.
Hope yours is sunny too!
Oh, and check out this photo of the most beautiful little baby EVER!
Cockadoodle-doodle-doo!
Monday, September 18, 2006
She Said, She Said
Diva bawled her eyes out after Swishy left.
Hubby breathed a sigh of relief to discover she really wasn’t a lesbian-knife-wielding-serial-killer-girl, although I suspect some readers might think the lesbian aspect would be kind of cool.
When Swishy drives up, before she gets into my house, hubby and I have this quick conversation:
Hubby: How do you know she’s not a serial killer?
Me: We shared a hotel room for two nights in April. If she wanted to kill me (she probably should have after that waxing episode), she could have done it there. (And if he was so concerned, why didn’t he ask me this five hours previous, before Swishy left her home to come to mine?)
Hubby: True.
Me, going out to greet Swishy, laughing: Hubby thinks you’re a serial killer!
Swish: Oh great, first time I meet him, he thinks I’m a lesbian, now I’m a serial killer?
So, there was no time spent in jail, no time spent hanging our heads over the toilet, but we did spend a lot of time laughing! There’s just something about Swishy! (Hey, that would make a great movie title!).
Anyway, Friday night was low-key because we had to be charged up and ready for our big day on Saturday, where we attended the Midwest Literary Festival, in the second largest city in Illinois - Aurora! (Who woulda thunk it?)
Right away, I spot our idol, Emily Giffin, and so we go up to her and yell, “Your fan club is here!”
She was probably thinking, “Oh God, not them again. I cannot escape Manic and Swishy!”
But seriously, Emily remembered us, and we had a great time laughing and talking about writing, and all the stuff you guys who don’t write wouldn’t get (but wait, most of you are bloggers, so you all write too, so you WOULD understand!).
In between panel discussions with these really cool authors, Judy Merrill Larsen, Tasha Alexander, Cynthia Langston, and some guy named David who wrote Dark Gold, we had some free time and instead of mingling and rubbing elbows or other things with the festival-goers, I took Swishy to the place where you can get pizza slices as big as your head! The young Hispanic who worked there fell in love with Swishy, telling her that her eyes were beautiful.
That pissed me off.
“What’s wrong with MY shit brown eyes! Just because Swish has eyes the color of aquamarine gemstones, you think mine aren’t good enough?!” I yelled.
“Go make me my freaking pizza now!” I demanded.
I’m sure he spit in it, right after he put the pepperoni slices on Swishy’s piece to spell out his phone number. He was smitten with her for sure!
Then, after pizza, we have some free time, and again, instead of hobnobbing and networking with festival goers, we decide to throw some money into the Aurora River (that’s not really the name of it, and no, we didn’t really toss money into the river, but it would have probably been more fun than what we did with our cash.)
We went to play the slots with the fine specimen of folk that inhabit
Hollywood Casinos!
I swear, there are some unwritten gambling requirements that we were unaware of. You must either be:
a. a smoker
b. a person older than dirt
c. in a motorized wheelchair
d. all of the above
It reeked, I got a huge headache (I get one just thinking about it!), and the first machine I tried to play stole my money because DUH, I put a five-dollar bill in a ten-dollar slot machine. WHAT!
I felt like an idiot and had to ask the nice lady who would NOT bring FREE drinks because that is another PROBLEM with this particular establishment: They don’t give free cocktails… I had to meekly request my money back. And then I had to ask her to direct me to the quarter slots.
And the slots sucked because:
a. Swishy got carded and I DIDN’T
b. No real money jingles out of them… you get a stupid bar-code card to keep track of your money.
c. No free drinks.
d. Smoke-filled air.
e. We lost.
But, we didn’t lose a lot cuz we are SMART SHOOTERS and went in with a plan. Our plan was to only spend $10. Okay, so I spent freaking $17 in which I could have gotten something much more out of the day, like another new book, but whatever. It was an experience. And I am all about living life for the experiences.
Aren’t we all?
So, losses aside, we head back to the festival and settle in for some more panel discussions, which are very exciting to Swish and me, but probably a little dull to those not seeking best-sellerdom and publication. And we were front and center gleaming at Emily, and she even referred to us, saying we were her fans, and she blew us kisses, and later, she sat behind us before another panel and admitted she was nervous. A beautiful, best-selling, wonderful author nervous!
She left her sweater in the seat behind us and I told her later that I shoulda hawked it and sold it on eBay. I could have gotten enough to publish and market my own damn book, I betcha! Before we parted ways with Emily, I slipped her my biz card, cuz I’m all coy like that (HA!) and told her if she was going to be hanging out in Naperville, to call us, cuz we were all about wanting to hang out with a best-selling fun, awesome author.
And the cool thing about Em (can I call you Em, Em?) is that she is so real, and down to earth, and very much appreciative and deserving of the successes she has enjoyed as an author. She asks the audience questions, and truly cares about what they think and what they are doing and why they want to be a writer. And she confided to Swish and me some things we were in complete agreement with, which further cemented our forever friendships!
Oh, the things I aspire to be…
I purchased these books at the festival. Go ahead and check them out, because they all look very fun. Okay, some are not fun. One is about a kid that gets killed by a jet-skiier, and one is about a swim team member being seduced by his coach, but still, the imaginary worlds are fun, and I’m looking forward to reading all these novels.
Love Monkey
All The Numbers
Bicoastal Babe
Sexy
Oh, I’m sure Swish will expound on this little gem of the day, but there was this hottie poet signing books, and she and I and, hell, every woman under the age of 70 there, were checking him out. We almost bought the damn book just so we could go have him sign something of ours, but then we spotted it!
The gold band on his left hand.
Married! How dare he? However could we flirt? We mentioned his matrimonial status to one of the booksellers, and how we thought if he removed his ball-and-chain -- oops, I mean his ring --he would probably sell a whole lot more books. So, Miss Bookseller agreed and she went up to his publicist to quietly whisper to tell him that if he got the chance, he should remove his wedding band.
Turns out the so-assumed publicist was the poet’s wife!
Who brings his WIFE to a book festival? A very good-looking Italian man, that’s who! She’s a smart gal, she is.
Oops!
You know, the excitement of the day got the best of us, but we did manage to meet up with Cubmommy for some fun conversation and eats, where I was able to enjoy my favorite of favorites, a caramel appletini, and the three of us decided that the evening was our very first ever Midwest Blog Festival, and that next year, in conjunction with the Midwest Literary Festival, we’ll hold the Second Annual Midwest Blog Festival.
DIGRESSION TIME:
Oh, and not only was it the first annual Midwest Blog Festival, party of three, but while we were out, we noticed a peculiar phenomenon about town. Apparently it was “Waitresses, Bring Out Your Fake Boobies Night!" Oh my gosh. You would so not believe the service industry that evening. It’s almost as if we wore a sign, “Please send us over the waitress with the most fake and largest implants ever! And while you’re at it, make her lean forward so we can glimpse into the crevasse and wonder how in the hell those things are staying in place with nothing to hold them!” Oh, I know, cuz THEY’RE FAKE!
(Sidenote: men readers, please chime in on this one—do you enjoy the feel and texture of fake ones? Cuz if so, men can start fondling those colorful bouncy rubber balls you can get at the drug store for a buck-ninety-nine. What.Is.The.Point?)
And women, if you’re out there with some fake ones, I mean no disrespect. I so understand getting them for the self-esteem issue, but come on, let’s just take the old tire pump out and fill those suckers up right before we attempt to make nicey-nice with customers looking only for a nice caramel appletini and a salad!
I’m so done with that. You men might be ‘down’ with that. But I’m done with that.
Continuing along, ta-tas aside…
BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG-POST:
And all the while we willed my cell phone to ring with Emily’s request to come meet her out because she just can’t stand partying and having fun without her biggest fans, right! Wrong. The call never came, but don’t worry Emily, you are still our favorite in the whole world. I know you were probably exhausted from smiling so damn much all day long, and you needed to see your babies, and you were just plain old tired. I can’t wait to someday get that exhausted, and I promise I will be as nice and kind and spend time with loser fans who want to sell my sweater on eBay too!
Seeing you and hanging out for the little bit we got to is comparable to someone seeking out their favorite rock band and singing up on stage with them. Kinda like singing Don’t Stop Believin’ with Journey! Yea.
The next day, Swish and I took Diva, Ajers, and Tukey for a walk/bike ride to Starbucks while hubby got some R&R he really deserved. The kids adore her. She is like a fun aunt who swooshes in and delights them all, plays with them, tickles them, tackles them, tells them silly stories. The kids couldn’t get enough Swish, that’s for sure. Even tonight, Diva asked if she could write Swish an email. And last night, she did practically cry herself to sleep because she missed her. See, the internet can bring about some very good friends, and Swish and I get along so well because of the passion we share for books and writing, and having some fun and laughter.
Then later, we went to a friend’s home, and I was so caught up in the Swishfest that I began behaving about a decade younger than I am (okay, two decades younger), and acting like an idiot in front of some people. I think I thought I was trying to be cool, and I ended up acting like a capital I*D*I*O*T.
I really disrespected myself and my husband, and made a fool of myself and the saddest aspect of this foolishness was that I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol! So, even though I know hubby does not read this, nor does the person whom I embarrassed myself in front of, this is a blogpology, in case you do pop into Manic’s house.
I’m sorry.
Anyway, as I said, there was no puking, no handcuffs, nothing crazy, but it was a fabulous weekend for me because I got to hang with some very cool blog chicks, meet some amazing up-and-coming new authors, and also, got to chat with Emily again, and I’m certain now our friendship is sealed in gold and cemented forever! Right Emily*, huh?
*Matchy-Matchy is Bitchy-Bitchy. So Bitchy-Bitchy!
Pizza As Big As Your Head,
And As Greasy As A Character's Face In Emily's Baby Proof:
First Annual Midwest Blogging Festival
Attendees, Committee Members, Voters, Organizers!
We're Not Worthy! We're Not Worthy!
Swish, Emily, Manic
Lovin' My Martini and Friends!
Manic and Cubmommy
Don't Ask:
Hubby breathed a sigh of relief to discover she really wasn’t a lesbian-knife-wielding-serial-killer-girl, although I suspect some readers might think the lesbian aspect would be kind of cool.
When Swishy drives up, before she gets into my house, hubby and I have this quick conversation:
Hubby: How do you know she’s not a serial killer?
Me: We shared a hotel room for two nights in April. If she wanted to kill me (she probably should have after that waxing episode), she could have done it there. (And if he was so concerned, why didn’t he ask me this five hours previous, before Swishy left her home to come to mine?)
Hubby: True.
Me, going out to greet Swishy, laughing: Hubby thinks you’re a serial killer!
Swish: Oh great, first time I meet him, he thinks I’m a lesbian, now I’m a serial killer?
So, there was no time spent in jail, no time spent hanging our heads over the toilet, but we did spend a lot of time laughing! There’s just something about Swishy! (Hey, that would make a great movie title!).
Anyway, Friday night was low-key because we had to be charged up and ready for our big day on Saturday, where we attended the Midwest Literary Festival, in the second largest city in Illinois - Aurora! (Who woulda thunk it?)
Right away, I spot our idol, Emily Giffin, and so we go up to her and yell, “Your fan club is here!”
She was probably thinking, “Oh God, not them again. I cannot escape Manic and Swishy!”
But seriously, Emily remembered us, and we had a great time laughing and talking about writing, and all the stuff you guys who don’t write wouldn’t get (but wait, most of you are bloggers, so you all write too, so you WOULD understand!).
In between panel discussions with these really cool authors, Judy Merrill Larsen, Tasha Alexander, Cynthia Langston, and some guy named David who wrote Dark Gold, we had some free time and instead of mingling and rubbing elbows or other things with the festival-goers, I took Swishy to the place where you can get pizza slices as big as your head! The young Hispanic who worked there fell in love with Swishy, telling her that her eyes were beautiful.
That pissed me off.
“What’s wrong with MY shit brown eyes! Just because Swish has eyes the color of aquamarine gemstones, you think mine aren’t good enough?!” I yelled.
“Go make me my freaking pizza now!” I demanded.
I’m sure he spit in it, right after he put the pepperoni slices on Swishy’s piece to spell out his phone number. He was smitten with her for sure!
Then, after pizza, we have some free time, and again, instead of hobnobbing and networking with festival goers, we decide to throw some money into the Aurora River (that’s not really the name of it, and no, we didn’t really toss money into the river, but it would have probably been more fun than what we did with our cash.)
We went to play the slots with the fine specimen of folk that inhabit
Hollywood Casinos!
I swear, there are some unwritten gambling requirements that we were unaware of. You must either be:
a. a smoker
b. a person older than dirt
c. in a motorized wheelchair
d. all of the above
It reeked, I got a huge headache (I get one just thinking about it!), and the first machine I tried to play stole my money because DUH, I put a five-dollar bill in a ten-dollar slot machine. WHAT!
I felt like an idiot and had to ask the nice lady who would NOT bring FREE drinks because that is another PROBLEM with this particular establishment: They don’t give free cocktails… I had to meekly request my money back. And then I had to ask her to direct me to the quarter slots.
And the slots sucked because:
a. Swishy got carded and I DIDN’T
b. No real money jingles out of them… you get a stupid bar-code card to keep track of your money.
c. No free drinks.
d. Smoke-filled air.
e. We lost.
But, we didn’t lose a lot cuz we are SMART SHOOTERS and went in with a plan. Our plan was to only spend $10. Okay, so I spent freaking $17 in which I could have gotten something much more out of the day, like another new book, but whatever. It was an experience. And I am all about living life for the experiences.
Aren’t we all?
So, losses aside, we head back to the festival and settle in for some more panel discussions, which are very exciting to Swish and me, but probably a little dull to those not seeking best-sellerdom and publication. And we were front and center gleaming at Emily, and she even referred to us, saying we were her fans, and she blew us kisses, and later, she sat behind us before another panel and admitted she was nervous. A beautiful, best-selling, wonderful author nervous!
She left her sweater in the seat behind us and I told her later that I shoulda hawked it and sold it on eBay. I could have gotten enough to publish and market my own damn book, I betcha! Before we parted ways with Emily, I slipped her my biz card, cuz I’m all coy like that (HA!) and told her if she was going to be hanging out in Naperville, to call us, cuz we were all about wanting to hang out with a best-selling fun, awesome author.
And the cool thing about Em (can I call you Em, Em?) is that she is so real, and down to earth, and very much appreciative and deserving of the successes she has enjoyed as an author. She asks the audience questions, and truly cares about what they think and what they are doing and why they want to be a writer. And she confided to Swish and me some things we were in complete agreement with, which further cemented our forever friendships!
Oh, the things I aspire to be…
I purchased these books at the festival. Go ahead and check them out, because they all look very fun. Okay, some are not fun. One is about a kid that gets killed by a jet-skiier, and one is about a swim team member being seduced by his coach, but still, the imaginary worlds are fun, and I’m looking forward to reading all these novels.
Love Monkey
All The Numbers
Bicoastal Babe
Sexy
Oh, I’m sure Swish will expound on this little gem of the day, but there was this hottie poet signing books, and she and I and, hell, every woman under the age of 70 there, were checking him out. We almost bought the damn book just so we could go have him sign something of ours, but then we spotted it!
The gold band on his left hand.
Married! How dare he? However could we flirt? We mentioned his matrimonial status to one of the booksellers, and how we thought if he removed his ball-and-chain -- oops, I mean his ring --he would probably sell a whole lot more books. So, Miss Bookseller agreed and she went up to his publicist to quietly whisper to tell him that if he got the chance, he should remove his wedding band.
Turns out the so-assumed publicist was the poet’s wife!
Who brings his WIFE to a book festival? A very good-looking Italian man, that’s who! She’s a smart gal, she is.
Oops!
You know, the excitement of the day got the best of us, but we did manage to meet up with Cubmommy for some fun conversation and eats, where I was able to enjoy my favorite of favorites, a caramel appletini, and the three of us decided that the evening was our very first ever Midwest Blog Festival, and that next year, in conjunction with the Midwest Literary Festival, we’ll hold the Second Annual Midwest Blog Festival.
DIGRESSION TIME:
Oh, and not only was it the first annual Midwest Blog Festival, party of three, but while we were out, we noticed a peculiar phenomenon about town. Apparently it was “Waitresses, Bring Out Your Fake Boobies Night!" Oh my gosh. You would so not believe the service industry that evening. It’s almost as if we wore a sign, “Please send us over the waitress with the most fake and largest implants ever! And while you’re at it, make her lean forward so we can glimpse into the crevasse and wonder how in the hell those things are staying in place with nothing to hold them!” Oh, I know, cuz THEY’RE FAKE!
(Sidenote: men readers, please chime in on this one—do you enjoy the feel and texture of fake ones? Cuz if so, men can start fondling those colorful bouncy rubber balls you can get at the drug store for a buck-ninety-nine. What.Is.The.Point?)
And women, if you’re out there with some fake ones, I mean no disrespect. I so understand getting them for the self-esteem issue, but come on, let’s just take the old tire pump out and fill those suckers up right before we attempt to make nicey-nice with customers looking only for a nice caramel appletini and a salad!
I’m so done with that. You men might be ‘down’ with that. But I’m done with that.
Continuing along, ta-tas aside…
BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG-POST:
And all the while we willed my cell phone to ring with Emily’s request to come meet her out because she just can’t stand partying and having fun without her biggest fans, right! Wrong. The call never came, but don’t worry Emily, you are still our favorite in the whole world. I know you were probably exhausted from smiling so damn much all day long, and you needed to see your babies, and you were just plain old tired. I can’t wait to someday get that exhausted, and I promise I will be as nice and kind and spend time with loser fans who want to sell my sweater on eBay too!
Seeing you and hanging out for the little bit we got to is comparable to someone seeking out their favorite rock band and singing up on stage with them. Kinda like singing Don’t Stop Believin’ with Journey! Yea.
The next day, Swish and I took Diva, Ajers, and Tukey for a walk/bike ride to Starbucks while hubby got some R&R he really deserved. The kids adore her. She is like a fun aunt who swooshes in and delights them all, plays with them, tickles them, tackles them, tells them silly stories. The kids couldn’t get enough Swish, that’s for sure. Even tonight, Diva asked if she could write Swish an email. And last night, she did practically cry herself to sleep because she missed her. See, the internet can bring about some very good friends, and Swish and I get along so well because of the passion we share for books and writing, and having some fun and laughter.
Then later, we went to a friend’s home, and I was so caught up in the Swishfest that I began behaving about a decade younger than I am (okay, two decades younger), and acting like an idiot in front of some people. I think I thought I was trying to be cool, and I ended up acting like a capital I*D*I*O*T.
I really disrespected myself and my husband, and made a fool of myself and the saddest aspect of this foolishness was that I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol! So, even though I know hubby does not read this, nor does the person whom I embarrassed myself in front of, this is a blogpology, in case you do pop into Manic’s house.
I’m sorry.
Anyway, as I said, there was no puking, no handcuffs, nothing crazy, but it was a fabulous weekend for me because I got to hang with some very cool blog chicks, meet some amazing up-and-coming new authors, and also, got to chat with Emily again, and I’m certain now our friendship is sealed in gold and cemented forever! Right Emily*, huh?
*Matchy-Matchy is Bitchy-Bitchy. So Bitchy-Bitchy!
Pizza As Big As Your Head,
And As Greasy As A Character's Face In Emily's Baby Proof:
First Annual Midwest Blogging Festival
Attendees, Committee Members, Voters, Organizers!
We're Not Worthy! We're Not Worthy!
Swish, Emily, Manic
Lovin' My Martini and Friends!
Manic and Cubmommy
Don't Ask:
I'm Getting There, I Promise
But in the meantime, check out this fun cyber battle over Natalie Portman, and weigh in on who you think is the most deserving man!
Hotwire Versus This Guy Who Is Kinda Cute but has a really nice girlfriend, I can tell, plus she likes Jake G!
But first, you'll have to read Hotwire's recent Nostalgia post that will give you goosebumps! And The other guy's post about Natalie is on Sept. 14. Find it. It's hilarious.
I love sharing the blog love!
Hotwire Versus This Guy Who Is Kinda Cute but has a really nice girlfriend, I can tell, plus she likes Jake G!
But first, you'll have to read Hotwire's recent Nostalgia post that will give you goosebumps! And The other guy's post about Natalie is on Sept. 14. Find it. It's hilarious.
I love sharing the blog love!
Tukey Talk
Tukey: Mom, first suck, and then suck back in like this (demonstrates what he means).
Me: Why?
Tukey: Because you get to have a drink. You get to drink your spit.
Me, brushing my teeth, staring at him.
Tukey: (again, demonstrating, what he means) Yum. That was good spit.
Me: Why?
Tukey: Because you get to have a drink. You get to drink your spit.
Me, brushing my teeth, staring at him.
Tukey: (again, demonstrating, what he means) Yum. That was good spit.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
This Season's Hot Toys
So, I have to admit, I stole this original concept from Christa who writes some funny and heartwarming shit.
Recently, she was discussing a new Barbie item that Diva has actually showed quite an interest in obtaining. It's the closest she's gonna get to the real thing:
Barbie and Her Shittin' Dog!
Per Christa: "If only all dogs shat perfectly molded plastic poop. But now, for a mere 15 bucks or so, you can teach your little one the value of a Pooper Scooper. Some things in life really should just be left alone by Barbie. What's next? Period Barbie? Flatulent Ken?"
I posed this question to Christa:
Haven't you seen the "Wait-Ken-Let-Me-Put-In-My-Vaginal-Contraceptive-Ring-Before-You-Cum" Barbie?
That's a hot one for this Christmas Season!
Recently, she was discussing a new Barbie item that Diva has actually showed quite an interest in obtaining. It's the closest she's gonna get to the real thing:
Barbie and Her Shittin' Dog!
Per Christa: "If only all dogs shat perfectly molded plastic poop. But now, for a mere 15 bucks or so, you can teach your little one the value of a Pooper Scooper. Some things in life really should just be left alone by Barbie. What's next? Period Barbie? Flatulent Ken?"
I posed this question to Christa:
Haven't you seen the "Wait-Ken-Let-Me-Put-In-My-Vaginal-Contraceptive-Ring-Before-You-Cum" Barbie?
That's a hot one for this Christmas Season!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
LIVE from my Trip, Completely Unedited for Your Enjoyment...
So, this relaxing thing is pretty cool. And as a preface to this popst, oops,already. Pleae excuse thetypos as for one, I am typing on my neo by alphasmart and the keyboard is really small. Second, ih’ve had two glasses of wine and that’s coming off a Xanax buzz from the flight, which I didn’t hthink affected me all that much, but once I arrived, I threw on the resort’s #$110 robe if I desicre to purchase it, and slammed my head onto the luxuruios bed. I didn’t wake untl two hours later, when hubby was banging on the door, done with his meetings, and trying to get back into the room, but ever-so cautious me, I put the extra lock on the door. You never know who might be lurking.
So man, I HAVE TO say the .50 Zanax hit me hard, and usually I boast they do not affect me, but ever since 9/11 I will not travel without my trusty orange pals. They keep me grounded, pun intended, cuz for crying out loud, I’m on a plane, definitely NOT GROUNDED, but nonetheless, I felt safe for the most part.
So, brave me, secure mother of three away from her precious children for four nights, five days, decided to sit at the bar.
Alone.
Now, really, this is a hard thing to do sober. However, by the time the second $10.25 glass of wine arrived, I was best friends with everyone! The firefighters who are here for a commander conference, who, I have to say, even if you’re not a good looking firefighter, and again, this is no pun intended, okay maybe it is intended, but no matter what, firefighters are HOT! No question about it. They are all about saving people from burning buildings.How can you not be attracted to that?
So, I told myself, “one glass of wine, then I’ll go up to the room and order room service. Just be brave and have one glass of wine at a bar by yourself to prove you can do it.
One glass, plus the after-affects of a .5 milligram or whatever xanas taken at eleven, pre-flight, and I was golden.
Brave me decided to order an appetizer to eat at the bar so whoever wanted to could watch a thirty-somethingchick at a bar eat alone. I did it. I got some tenderloin and pepper jack cheese quesadillos and ate them in public, with other epoeple there. Now you might think this was a what do you call it, a hangup of mine, but I dojn’t know. How many ofyou are cool with eating in public alone, and I don’t mean coffee and a scone at starbucksl, It does take some guts, some innersomething to makebelieve you are self-confident enough and secure enough to be out by yourself, eating and drinking. It’s one thing to go to a movie by yourself, when you feelself-concsiousl for about two mintues until the lights go down and you’re immersed in the previews, but do publicly be like,”Hey, I’m okay, and I’m going to eat and have a couple glasses of win andenjoy myself, BY MYSELF. Well, I might have reached a turning point.
I got ta talk to some nice people, and there were mostly men there, including the hot, but not so hnot in inreal life, but they were firegighters, firefighters, andt ehn a cute little girl came up and sat next to me. I feel comfortable enough striking up a conversation with a girl, plus I felt I had an ally. Shit, we were the only girls in the bar. She and I talked, and because of the wonder twin girl power, we even had some conversations with other men, one who boasted to me that it was great to have a 22 year old son, because he would come home to a pool-full of Hooters chicks.OK. That’s something to strive for.
So, it’sday one in Phoenix. My new friend originally from Thailand, now from Calif, who is visitng her dad, who works for the same company as hubby… well, she and I are going to do yoga tomorrow, and then, get this, onFriday, we are going on a mountain hike. How cool. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed a mountain in my life
Go girl.
I’m out, for the night, but will be posting regularly so see you when I check in tomorrow.
Oeace out.
Okay, it’s tomorrow, well almost two days later if you look att eh clock cuz it’s almost past midnight, but never mind, and no, I am not intoxicated, merely trying to navigate my way through this neo alphasmart, and really , it I were that buzzed, would I be able to formulate the phrase, “navigate my way through” and use punctuation. OK, regardlysss, and yes, Iocmpletely know I’m amking mistakes, but Hey, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not so here’s what you get. Don’t like it? You’re just a click away to saying adios to Manic Mom. Ooh, I was excited to see I spelled Manic correctly.
This a.m. hubby awoke and got ready for his all day confrecne, and I read a little bit, this is at 7 a.m. which is really 9 in Chicago. Then I decided, hey’, it’s vacation and I feel like napping some more. So I went back to sleep around 8 a.m., woke at 9 with a start (don’t ya just hate that phrase, “With a start?!” Dumb.
I awoka and realized it’e 9 and I am supposed to meet my new friend Tak at the
Café for coffee before we do yoga. I call her and tell her I will be a little late, rush out there and meet up with her at 9:15.
Here in Arizone, they don’t have FRAPS at Starbucks, rather these things called Dream Ice, which looks really silly on the cup because the words are combined so you think you are drinkgin MICE,… dreamice. Not a ogod marketing plan, but what I thik about anyway.
We do yoga and it’s so relaxing and I am only thinkgnin about myself and not feeling any guilt about it bedcause, dammit, I deserve this! I am raisigng three beautiful kids but when is the last time I have spent THIS MUCH TIME ALONE? All by myself? And I love it. At the end of youga, the instructor read something from Ralph Marston, called Living IN Excellence, and I had to type that right now so I can remember to look it up on the internet. It was so profound, about being excellent, and having a passion that you’re passionate about and I kept thinking, I am so passionate about writing.
I know I will be sore tomorrow from the yoga, it was a great class.
After yoga, I ventured to the café where I discovered, “OH MY GOD, they have the internet inPhoenix, so I checked my emails, saw all the nice things you all said about my queer little rap song, and made the promise that if I do sell my book, I will give away full size candy bars at my readings cuz I cannot dance like that author andrea S who one of you mentioned dances at her readings. Next best thing, free chocolate. Maybe I’ll also take requests to find out which page I should read from.
Speaking of full size candy bars, I snagged onefrom theimin bar last night and it’s a milky way and I only ate half last night so I’m gonna taek a bite now. Except there are Godiva chocolates on the bed, because, they have TURN DOWN SERVICE HERE. This means, if you want, they will come and turn down the bed sheets for you.
Since hubby and I hit the pool during his free time today, and had a few margs, of course, we needed to “Nap” later in the day so the bed was all mussed up, so Icalled for turn down service. Now it’s almost midnight and the bed is all made upnice ready for me to climb into.
I love it. Candy bar break, please hold.
Yum, thank you.
Anyway, after yoga, I went to the café and got on the computer, checked my emails, and ordered a fab sandwich of shaved tenderloin, peppers, asiago cheese and some yummy sauce on great bread, accompanied with tortolini salad that was yum, and a dill picklet that I did not eat because I hate pickles. Once, In tenth grade, I got a sandwich in the cafeteria at lunch, bit into it, withough checking and nearly puked that I had half a pickle slice in my mouth. Never again. But I digress
The lunch was yum, then I discovered they made homemade cookies that were seriously the size of your head, and were selling for ONLY $2.49, which was amazing to me that it was so cheap at a la-di-dah resort. I got one, double, major choc chip, thinking I would share with hubby later, or save some. Nope, at the whole freaking thing.
Tummy hurt afterward, but well worth it.
Poolside time where I finished Eye Contact, the book, did not enjoy all that much. Not a good mystery. Didn’t have me afraid to turn the pages.
Then Nap, then hub had to go to his work dinner. I decide that I’m going to live OUTSIDE THE BOX once again, and I decide that I am not going to be a chicken and order in room service, but I’m going out into the world, to a restaurant and eat a nice meal all alone.
Now as I mentioned, going to the movies is one thing, diningn in a restuarent, on your own, completely different. But I did it!
And it was fun, and I felt confident, and I tasted each bite of my food, which was angel hair pasta with sun dried tomatoes, basil, garlic, olive oil and parm cheese. And two glasses of Sonoma Coutrer wine.
I tried to be like Stephahie Klein and really tast the food, feel the texture, enjoy each bite, and I did, the sharpness of the cheese, the tang of the tomoatoes, . I ate alone. I wondered if restaurarnts have a section where they put alone people so they don’t’ feel so alone, because I ended upat a booth which I requested, that was sort of out of the way, and then this nice lady was in a booth across theway. We should have dined together. She asked if my food was good, we chit-chatted, I told her it was wonderful and this was the first time I’ve dined out at a nice place all alone. I felt brave, like this is one of those things I can mark off my list of thingst o do but maybe I’m a little bit scared to do. That’s done. I did it.
Tomorrow, I am supposed to climb the mountain with my new friend Tak, but now her plans have changed so she can’t go. I am going to do it by myself, with the guide, whose name is Chip. I am going to do it because I want to climb a mountain in RArizona and I waqnt to be able to say, “I climbed a fucking mounting. How couol would athtat be.
So, that’w what I’m going to do, and no, believe it or not, I am not drunk, but it is very difficult to type on the neo alphasmart keyboard because the keys are just a little bit tighter than the regular keyboard.
Tomoorrow Mountain. Will be back. I can’t wait. This is another “Mark off the list of tings to do” activity.
Peace out from Arizone. And I wish I would have asked any of you who lived this way if you would have wanted to have dinner with me, not that I didn’t mind dining alone, but I always love the opportunity to meet blogging pals
Let’s just title this one: I CLIMBED ME A MOUNTAIN AND NOW I HAVE TO THROW UP. More later, except by the time I post all this, it won’t really be ‘more later’ cuz all you’ll have to do is keep reading, but right now I am going to crawl into this huge big puffy bed, and sleep for about six hours. Oh My God, people climb mountains just for the sheer joy of it, and here I am thinking, how am I not gonna blow chunks right now. If you could see how red my face is, well, I would have taken a post-mountain climbing photo, but hubby needed the camera for some work thing, and by the way, hubby did not climb the mountain with me. It is called Squaw Peak Mountain, near Camelback Mountain, and did you know Squaw Peak is a derogatory word because if you said what it really is called, it should be called SLUT Mountain, cuz apparently that’s what a Squaw is. I’m just sayin’. Now, to pass out. Be back later, hopefully, but if I die, at least I climbed a freaking mountain. I feel so Julia Andrews right now
5:30
Okay, so nobdody ever told me that climbing a mountain kicks your ass! Okay, maybe just Manic’s ass, but here it is 5:30, and I napped, slept almost all day. I got back from the climb around 10:30, and got a call from the school, telling me Ajers was sick with a stomach cramp; without getting into it, he’s fine, my dad took him to the doc, so no worries there.
Anyway, mountain hiking. Seemed like a great idea at the time. I was all like, “I can’t have another glass of wine, I have to climb a mountain tomorrow!”
It was cool, not climatically speaking, because it’s Arizona, so I mean that in a ‘it was neat’ kinda way, but I guess it is a little cooler than regularly around this time of year cuz it rained both nights so far, but around midnight so didn’t affect me at all.
Okay, not sure where this is going, just wanted to say while I think it’s great I climbed a mountain, I am going to be in serious pain tomorrow, and I had a RAGING terrible headache afterward, and felt like I could puke so I bet I had heat stroke. Ha, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. If I had done yoga or something a little less strenuous today instead of climbing Slut Peak Mountain straight freaking up 1.25 miles, then maybe I wouldn’t have passed out and slept all day. But hey, I did it. Cross CLIMB BIG MOUNTAIN AND SURVIVE off my list!
So man, I HAVE TO say the .50 Zanax hit me hard, and usually I boast they do not affect me, but ever since 9/11 I will not travel without my trusty orange pals. They keep me grounded, pun intended, cuz for crying out loud, I’m on a plane, definitely NOT GROUNDED, but nonetheless, I felt safe for the most part.
So, brave me, secure mother of three away from her precious children for four nights, five days, decided to sit at the bar.
Alone.
Now, really, this is a hard thing to do sober. However, by the time the second $10.25 glass of wine arrived, I was best friends with everyone! The firefighters who are here for a commander conference, who, I have to say, even if you’re not a good looking firefighter, and again, this is no pun intended, okay maybe it is intended, but no matter what, firefighters are HOT! No question about it. They are all about saving people from burning buildings.How can you not be attracted to that?
So, I told myself, “one glass of wine, then I’ll go up to the room and order room service. Just be brave and have one glass of wine at a bar by yourself to prove you can do it.
One glass, plus the after-affects of a .5 milligram or whatever xanas taken at eleven, pre-flight, and I was golden.
Brave me decided to order an appetizer to eat at the bar so whoever wanted to could watch a thirty-somethingchick at a bar eat alone. I did it. I got some tenderloin and pepper jack cheese quesadillos and ate them in public, with other epoeple there. Now you might think this was a what do you call it, a hangup of mine, but I dojn’t know. How many ofyou are cool with eating in public alone, and I don’t mean coffee and a scone at starbucksl, It does take some guts, some innersomething to makebelieve you are self-confident enough and secure enough to be out by yourself, eating and drinking. It’s one thing to go to a movie by yourself, when you feelself-concsiousl for about two mintues until the lights go down and you’re immersed in the previews, but do publicly be like,”Hey, I’m okay, and I’m going to eat and have a couple glasses of win andenjoy myself, BY MYSELF. Well, I might have reached a turning point.
I got ta talk to some nice people, and there were mostly men there, including the hot, but not so hnot in inreal life, but they were firegighters, firefighters, andt ehn a cute little girl came up and sat next to me. I feel comfortable enough striking up a conversation with a girl, plus I felt I had an ally. Shit, we were the only girls in the bar. She and I talked, and because of the wonder twin girl power, we even had some conversations with other men, one who boasted to me that it was great to have a 22 year old son, because he would come home to a pool-full of Hooters chicks.OK. That’s something to strive for.
So, it’sday one in Phoenix. My new friend originally from Thailand, now from Calif, who is visitng her dad, who works for the same company as hubby… well, she and I are going to do yoga tomorrow, and then, get this, onFriday, we are going on a mountain hike. How cool. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed a mountain in my life
Go girl.
I’m out, for the night, but will be posting regularly so see you when I check in tomorrow.
Oeace out.
Okay, it’s tomorrow, well almost two days later if you look att eh clock cuz it’s almost past midnight, but never mind, and no, I am not intoxicated, merely trying to navigate my way through this neo alphasmart, and really , it I were that buzzed, would I be able to formulate the phrase, “navigate my way through” and use punctuation. OK, regardlysss, and yes, Iocmpletely know I’m amking mistakes, but Hey, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not so here’s what you get. Don’t like it? You’re just a click away to saying adios to Manic Mom. Ooh, I was excited to see I spelled Manic correctly.
This a.m. hubby awoke and got ready for his all day confrecne, and I read a little bit, this is at 7 a.m. which is really 9 in Chicago. Then I decided, hey’, it’s vacation and I feel like napping some more. So I went back to sleep around 8 a.m., woke at 9 with a start (don’t ya just hate that phrase, “With a start?!” Dumb.
I awoka and realized it’e 9 and I am supposed to meet my new friend Tak at the
Café for coffee before we do yoga. I call her and tell her I will be a little late, rush out there and meet up with her at 9:15.
Here in Arizone, they don’t have FRAPS at Starbucks, rather these things called Dream Ice, which looks really silly on the cup because the words are combined so you think you are drinkgin MICE,… dreamice. Not a ogod marketing plan, but what I thik about anyway.
We do yoga and it’s so relaxing and I am only thinkgnin about myself and not feeling any guilt about it bedcause, dammit, I deserve this! I am raisigng three beautiful kids but when is the last time I have spent THIS MUCH TIME ALONE? All by myself? And I love it. At the end of youga, the instructor read something from Ralph Marston, called Living IN Excellence, and I had to type that right now so I can remember to look it up on the internet. It was so profound, about being excellent, and having a passion that you’re passionate about and I kept thinking, I am so passionate about writing.
I know I will be sore tomorrow from the yoga, it was a great class.
After yoga, I ventured to the café where I discovered, “OH MY GOD, they have the internet inPhoenix, so I checked my emails, saw all the nice things you all said about my queer little rap song, and made the promise that if I do sell my book, I will give away full size candy bars at my readings cuz I cannot dance like that author andrea S who one of you mentioned dances at her readings. Next best thing, free chocolate. Maybe I’ll also take requests to find out which page I should read from.
Speaking of full size candy bars, I snagged onefrom theimin bar last night and it’s a milky way and I only ate half last night so I’m gonna taek a bite now. Except there are Godiva chocolates on the bed, because, they have TURN DOWN SERVICE HERE. This means, if you want, they will come and turn down the bed sheets for you.
Since hubby and I hit the pool during his free time today, and had a few margs, of course, we needed to “Nap” later in the day so the bed was all mussed up, so Icalled for turn down service. Now it’s almost midnight and the bed is all made upnice ready for me to climb into.
I love it. Candy bar break, please hold.
Yum, thank you.
Anyway, after yoga, I went to the café and got on the computer, checked my emails, and ordered a fab sandwich of shaved tenderloin, peppers, asiago cheese and some yummy sauce on great bread, accompanied with tortolini salad that was yum, and a dill picklet that I did not eat because I hate pickles. Once, In tenth grade, I got a sandwich in the cafeteria at lunch, bit into it, withough checking and nearly puked that I had half a pickle slice in my mouth. Never again. But I digress
The lunch was yum, then I discovered they made homemade cookies that were seriously the size of your head, and were selling for ONLY $2.49, which was amazing to me that it was so cheap at a la-di-dah resort. I got one, double, major choc chip, thinking I would share with hubby later, or save some. Nope, at the whole freaking thing.
Tummy hurt afterward, but well worth it.
Poolside time where I finished Eye Contact, the book, did not enjoy all that much. Not a good mystery. Didn’t have me afraid to turn the pages.
Then Nap, then hub had to go to his work dinner. I decide that I’m going to live OUTSIDE THE BOX once again, and I decide that I am not going to be a chicken and order in room service, but I’m going out into the world, to a restaurant and eat a nice meal all alone.
Now as I mentioned, going to the movies is one thing, diningn in a restuarent, on your own, completely different. But I did it!
And it was fun, and I felt confident, and I tasted each bite of my food, which was angel hair pasta with sun dried tomatoes, basil, garlic, olive oil and parm cheese. And two glasses of Sonoma Coutrer wine.
I tried to be like Stephahie Klein and really tast the food, feel the texture, enjoy each bite, and I did, the sharpness of the cheese, the tang of the tomoatoes, . I ate alone. I wondered if restaurarnts have a section where they put alone people so they don’t’ feel so alone, because I ended upat a booth which I requested, that was sort of out of the way, and then this nice lady was in a booth across theway. We should have dined together. She asked if my food was good, we chit-chatted, I told her it was wonderful and this was the first time I’ve dined out at a nice place all alone. I felt brave, like this is one of those things I can mark off my list of thingst o do but maybe I’m a little bit scared to do. That’s done. I did it.
Tomorrow, I am supposed to climb the mountain with my new friend Tak, but now her plans have changed so she can’t go. I am going to do it by myself, with the guide, whose name is Chip. I am going to do it because I want to climb a mountain in RArizona and I waqnt to be able to say, “I climbed a fucking mounting. How couol would athtat be.
So, that’w what I’m going to do, and no, believe it or not, I am not drunk, but it is very difficult to type on the neo alphasmart keyboard because the keys are just a little bit tighter than the regular keyboard.
Tomoorrow Mountain. Will be back. I can’t wait. This is another “Mark off the list of tings to do” activity.
Peace out from Arizone. And I wish I would have asked any of you who lived this way if you would have wanted to have dinner with me, not that I didn’t mind dining alone, but I always love the opportunity to meet blogging pals
Let’s just title this one: I CLIMBED ME A MOUNTAIN AND NOW I HAVE TO THROW UP. More later, except by the time I post all this, it won’t really be ‘more later’ cuz all you’ll have to do is keep reading, but right now I am going to crawl into this huge big puffy bed, and sleep for about six hours. Oh My God, people climb mountains just for the sheer joy of it, and here I am thinking, how am I not gonna blow chunks right now. If you could see how red my face is, well, I would have taken a post-mountain climbing photo, but hubby needed the camera for some work thing, and by the way, hubby did not climb the mountain with me. It is called Squaw Peak Mountain, near Camelback Mountain, and did you know Squaw Peak is a derogatory word because if you said what it really is called, it should be called SLUT Mountain, cuz apparently that’s what a Squaw is. I’m just sayin’. Now, to pass out. Be back later, hopefully, but if I die, at least I climbed a freaking mountain. I feel so Julia Andrews right now
5:30
Okay, so nobdody ever told me that climbing a mountain kicks your ass! Okay, maybe just Manic’s ass, but here it is 5:30, and I napped, slept almost all day. I got back from the climb around 10:30, and got a call from the school, telling me Ajers was sick with a stomach cramp; without getting into it, he’s fine, my dad took him to the doc, so no worries there.
Anyway, mountain hiking. Seemed like a great idea at the time. I was all like, “I can’t have another glass of wine, I have to climb a mountain tomorrow!”
It was cool, not climatically speaking, because it’s Arizona, so I mean that in a ‘it was neat’ kinda way, but I guess it is a little cooler than regularly around this time of year cuz it rained both nights so far, but around midnight so didn’t affect me at all.
Okay, not sure where this is going, just wanted to say while I think it’s great I climbed a mountain, I am going to be in serious pain tomorrow, and I had a RAGING terrible headache afterward, and felt like I could puke so I bet I had heat stroke. Ha, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. If I had done yoga or something a little less strenuous today instead of climbing Slut Peak Mountain straight freaking up 1.25 miles, then maybe I wouldn’t have passed out and slept all day. But hey, I did it. Cross CLIMB BIG MOUNTAIN AND SURVIVE off my list!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Take Manic Mom’s Vacation Quiz:
1. Where did Manic Mom go?
a. She attended a writer’s conference and got shitfaced with Swishy and Jess
(Oh wait, that was in April)
b. She went out west to check out colleges Ajers is considering attending
(One can never start too soon)
c. She went crazy, but decided to do it out of state
d. Who the hell cares? It was nice not hearing her bitch about her children, the weather, lack of sleep, martinis, and her agent quest for five glorious days!
2. She was in:
a. New Mexico
b. Arizona
c. Vegas
d. Calfornia
3. Which of the following did Manic do on her trip:
a. Woke up at 6:30 a.m. to hike this mountain
b. Picked up firefighters in the bar
c. Ate with chopsticks without too much embarrassment
d. Had dinner alone in a restaurant
e. Didn’t have to worry if the door was locked or not
f. Almost got kicked out of the hot tub
g. Yoga
h. Got heat stroke
i. Ate a chocolate chip cookie as big as her head
j. Drank just one or two appletinis
k. Stole the hotel bathrobe that sells for $110
l. All of the above
m. None of the above
n. Some of the above
4. How many grandenonfatsugarfreelattes did Manic enjoy on her trip?
a. 1
b. 2
c. Half-dozen
d. With whip or without?
e. Are you kidding? It was a vaca, she ordered Ventis!
5. How many Xanax did she take before her flight?
a. None, she was as relaxed as could be!
b. A handful of two-fives
c. One fiver.
d. The whole freaking bottle.
6. The mountain Manic climbed was recently renamed because the original name translated to:
a. Indian Hill
b. Eagles Summit
c. Slut Mountain
d. Native Crest
e. There’s no way SHE climbed a mountain!
7. While Manic was gone, which children did these things?
a. Threw up in Dominick’s but thankfully not in the back of Daddy’s car.
b. Played his first football game
c. Lost his first football game
d. Did not accept $25 bucks from grandparents to pull the Nanny McPhee tooth that has been hanging on for dear life since JUNE!
e. Went to the school nurse and then had to go to the doctor because of a stomach cramp
f. Missed their parents
g. Said, “Bring me back a present but not a t-shirt or clothes”
8. The best thing she ate on vacation was:
a. an avocado, tomato, cheese sandwich on 12-grain grilled bread at
The Cowboy Club
b. angel hair pasta with basil, tons of garlic, roasted tomatoes, olive oil
c. Sonoma Cutrer wine
d. The above-mentioned cookie-as-big-as-her-head
e. a shaved tenderloin sandwich with tri-color peppers, asiago cheese and some other good stuff
f. the spicy beef shredded burrito she shoved down her throat in the airport before the plane ride home
9. Did Manic and her husband:
a. Take a Pink Jeep Tour in Sedona?
b. Celebrate someone’s 38th birthday?
c. Get some nookie?
d. Take daily naps?
e. Drink margaritas poolside?
f. Drink Prickly Pear margaritas at The Cowboy Club?
g. Drink chardonnay at The Grill?
h. Drink martinis at Zen 32?
i. Overdrink?
10: Overall Manic Mom
a. rested
b. relaxed
c. overate
d. had a great time with hubby
e. missed her babies
f. already wants another vacation as Tukey is home from school barfing today.
a. She attended a writer’s conference and got shitfaced with Swishy and Jess
(Oh wait, that was in April)
b. She went out west to check out colleges Ajers is considering attending
(One can never start too soon)
c. She went crazy, but decided to do it out of state
d. Who the hell cares? It was nice not hearing her bitch about her children, the weather, lack of sleep, martinis, and her agent quest for five glorious days!
2. She was in:
a. New Mexico
b. Arizona
c. Vegas
d. Calfornia
3. Which of the following did Manic do on her trip:
a. Woke up at 6:30 a.m. to hike this mountain
b. Picked up firefighters in the bar
c. Ate with chopsticks without too much embarrassment
d. Had dinner alone in a restaurant
e. Didn’t have to worry if the door was locked or not
f. Almost got kicked out of the hot tub
g. Yoga
h. Got heat stroke
i. Ate a chocolate chip cookie as big as her head
j. Drank just one or two appletinis
k. Stole the hotel bathrobe that sells for $110
l. All of the above
m. None of the above
n. Some of the above
4. How many grandenonfatsugarfreelattes did Manic enjoy on her trip?
a. 1
b. 2
c. Half-dozen
d. With whip or without?
e. Are you kidding? It was a vaca, she ordered Ventis!
5. How many Xanax did she take before her flight?
a. None, she was as relaxed as could be!
b. A handful of two-fives
c. One fiver.
d. The whole freaking bottle.
6. The mountain Manic climbed was recently renamed because the original name translated to:
a. Indian Hill
b. Eagles Summit
c. Slut Mountain
d. Native Crest
e. There’s no way SHE climbed a mountain!
7. While Manic was gone, which children did these things?
a. Threw up in Dominick’s but thankfully not in the back of Daddy’s car.
b. Played his first football game
c. Lost his first football game
d. Did not accept $25 bucks from grandparents to pull the Nanny McPhee tooth that has been hanging on for dear life since JUNE!
e. Went to the school nurse and then had to go to the doctor because of a stomach cramp
f. Missed their parents
g. Said, “Bring me back a present but not a t-shirt or clothes”
8. The best thing she ate on vacation was:
a. an avocado, tomato, cheese sandwich on 12-grain grilled bread at
The Cowboy Club
b. angel hair pasta with basil, tons of garlic, roasted tomatoes, olive oil
c. Sonoma Cutrer wine
d. The above-mentioned cookie-as-big-as-her-head
e. a shaved tenderloin sandwich with tri-color peppers, asiago cheese and some other good stuff
f. the spicy beef shredded burrito she shoved down her throat in the airport before the plane ride home
9. Did Manic and her husband:
a. Take a Pink Jeep Tour in Sedona?
b. Celebrate someone’s 38th birthday?
c. Get some nookie?
d. Take daily naps?
e. Drink margaritas poolside?
f. Drink Prickly Pear margaritas at The Cowboy Club?
g. Drink chardonnay at The Grill?
h. Drink martinis at Zen 32?
i. Overdrink?
10: Overall Manic Mom
a. rested
b. relaxed
c. overate
d. had a great time with hubby
e. missed her babies
f. already wants another vacation as Tukey is home from school barfing today.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Five Years Ago Today, I Wrote This:
September 11, 2001, Tuesday
(For reference, Luke was nine days old, and I remember feeling horrible that I had just brought my newborn son into a world like this.)
Today is an extremely sad day for our country. An unbelievable thing happened killing thousands and thousands of people. Terrorist highjackers crashed airplanes into the two World Trade Center buildings in NY and they exploded and collapsed, killing thousands. And then two more planes went down, one crashing into the Pentagon in DC, and one near Pittsburgh. It has been a surreal day and I can't even explain my feelings. The images on TV have left me crying and confused. What kind of crazy people could want to do this? Our country is really under attack -- all airlines in the US closed down, schools, government buildings, amusement parks, monuments, everything has been closed down.
It is so scary to think what could happen next. Are we safe in our own home? Should I worry about sending Aj to preschool or going to the grocery store or to a park? Where is the next target?
I get scared and sad mostly for my babies. I want more than anything in the world to keep them safe from the dangers of the world. I cried a little today and explained what I could to AJ - that bad people crashed a plane into a building and hurt a lot of people. I think he thinks a crash is cool cuz he plays with Rescue Heroes and he was asking if firemen and policement were there and did they call 911?
This is the most tragic and devastating thing to ever happen to the United States of America and I hope it is over and that nothing like this ever happens again. I am sure we are goin gto go to war with Afganistan and whoever else did this. When you kids are older and read these journals, this stuff will be written in your history books. I can't even believe our country is going through this right now.
I just called my mommy and daddy. We are all safe and sound. Dear God, please keep us safe from the dangers of the world and continue to let us be a loving, kind, caring, close family. Please spare us from any harm and pain and danger. Keep my babies safe so I can raise them to experience the good the world has to offer. Amen, and thank you for what you have given to us so far. Just keep my family in your loving arms. They are the most important thing to me. Nothing else matters but my family. Amen and please help the families of all the victims survive this horror. Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I just wanted to take a moment to remember and pay homage to those who lost their lives, their loved ones, their jobs, their faith, their friend on this terrible day five years ago. I am sad and reflective and hoping we are all kept safe.
God Bless Us All, and God Bless America...
Tomorrow, we resume our regularly scheduled Manic Program.
(For reference, Luke was nine days old, and I remember feeling horrible that I had just brought my newborn son into a world like this.)
Today is an extremely sad day for our country. An unbelievable thing happened killing thousands and thousands of people. Terrorist highjackers crashed airplanes into the two World Trade Center buildings in NY and they exploded and collapsed, killing thousands. And then two more planes went down, one crashing into the Pentagon in DC, and one near Pittsburgh. It has been a surreal day and I can't even explain my feelings. The images on TV have left me crying and confused. What kind of crazy people could want to do this? Our country is really under attack -- all airlines in the US closed down, schools, government buildings, amusement parks, monuments, everything has been closed down.
It is so scary to think what could happen next. Are we safe in our own home? Should I worry about sending Aj to preschool or going to the grocery store or to a park? Where is the next target?
I get scared and sad mostly for my babies. I want more than anything in the world to keep them safe from the dangers of the world. I cried a little today and explained what I could to AJ - that bad people crashed a plane into a building and hurt a lot of people. I think he thinks a crash is cool cuz he plays with Rescue Heroes and he was asking if firemen and policement were there and did they call 911?
This is the most tragic and devastating thing to ever happen to the United States of America and I hope it is over and that nothing like this ever happens again. I am sure we are goin gto go to war with Afganistan and whoever else did this. When you kids are older and read these journals, this stuff will be written in your history books. I can't even believe our country is going through this right now.
I just called my mommy and daddy. We are all safe and sound. Dear God, please keep us safe from the dangers of the world and continue to let us be a loving, kind, caring, close family. Please spare us from any harm and pain and danger. Keep my babies safe so I can raise them to experience the good the world has to offer. Amen, and thank you for what you have given to us so far. Just keep my family in your loving arms. They are the most important thing to me. Nothing else matters but my family. Amen and please help the families of all the victims survive this horror. Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I just wanted to take a moment to remember and pay homage to those who lost their lives, their loved ones, their jobs, their faith, their friend on this terrible day five years ago. I am sad and reflective and hoping we are all kept safe.
God Bless Us All, and God Bless America...
Tomorrow, we resume our regularly scheduled Manic Program.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
The Manic Rap
Please don't cry,
please don't frown,
but Manic Mom's
going out of town.
Where she's going, nobody knows,
what's she doing, do you suppose?
Is she drinking, sleeping, or what?
Is she exercising off her butt?
Sunshine, books and sleep when she wants
Away from this keyboard and its fonts.
She'll be back, don't ya worry,
And she'll be in less of a fury.
Cuz relaxing is what she's gonna do
without the Diva, Ajers and Tukey too,
They'll be missed you can bet,
but this is a trip she won't regret.
To a new state where she's never been
And no it ain't Michigan.
Somewhere out toward the West
Is the place where she will rest.
Recharged, relaxed, that's what she'll be,
Maybe she'll write books two and three?
Who the heck knows, why should ya care?
But when she gets back, stories she'll share.
In the meantime, check out the links
To the people who I think don't stinks*.
They're over there, on your right.
Now wish me good luck, on my flight!
Peace out fellow bloggers, readers and lurkers!
*If your blog is not listed on my sidebar, it's only because you haven't asked me to add it, so go ahead, ask.
please don't frown,
but Manic Mom's
going out of town.
Where she's going, nobody knows,
what's she doing, do you suppose?
Is she drinking, sleeping, or what?
Is she exercising off her butt?
Sunshine, books and sleep when she wants
Away from this keyboard and its fonts.
She'll be back, don't ya worry,
And she'll be in less of a fury.
Cuz relaxing is what she's gonna do
without the Diva, Ajers and Tukey too,
They'll be missed you can bet,
but this is a trip she won't regret.
To a new state where she's never been
And no it ain't Michigan.
Somewhere out toward the West
Is the place where she will rest.
Recharged, relaxed, that's what she'll be,
Maybe she'll write books two and three?
Who the heck knows, why should ya care?
But when she gets back, stories she'll share.
In the meantime, check out the links
To the people who I think don't stinks*.
They're over there, on your right.
Now wish me good luck, on my flight!
Peace out fellow bloggers, readers and lurkers!
*If your blog is not listed on my sidebar, it's only because you haven't asked me to add it, so go ahead, ask.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Things To Do Tuesday:
1. Buy Jennifer Weiner's book that comes out today.
2. Purchase an iced Ventinonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhip.
3. Kill two-birds-with-one stone by combining numbers 1 and 2 at beloved B&N, save myself a trip, and 15 minutes of my day.
4. Finish up the last quarter of the amped-up version of 40: where proverbial main character is in tree with snakes, while water breaks, and she goes into labor, but some evil nemesis below is throwing stones at her and her contractions are coming faster and faster, and there's no one there to help get her down from that tree, and now the snakes are crawling all over and getting closer to her, and are you feeling sorry for this character yet?
Do you care what she's up against?
Do you care if she will deliver her baby only to have the snakes unlock their venemous and starving jaws and eat the baby live? If so, then I'm on the right track!
Yeah, I gotta finish it Tuesday. Or die trying.
5. Lose thirty pounds.
6. Send Tukey to his first day of junior kindergarten, and no worries, I will not be crying because of this, only crying because number 5 is unaccomplishable at this point.
But it will be Tukey's third year at this preschool, so he's BMOC, or Big Man on Campus. And forgive me Blogther, for I hath sinned. I did not blog at all about my little Tukey turning FIVE on Saturday. Bad mommy, bad, bad, bad mommy!
There were a couple interesting things to note about the day though, the first being when he awoke, he came into my room, and said, "I don't want to be five. I want to still be four, and your little baby."
Me too, honey, me too. I don't like that my baby is five. Five is harder than 35 was.
And another point in the day, I asked him, as I often ask my kids: "Do you have any questions you want to know about life?"
His answer: "Nope. Everything is perfect."
7. Pack.
2. Purchase an iced Ventinonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhip.
3. Kill two-birds-with-one stone by combining numbers 1 and 2 at beloved B&N, save myself a trip, and 15 minutes of my day.
4. Finish up the last quarter of the amped-up version of 40: where proverbial main character is in tree with snakes, while water breaks, and she goes into labor, but some evil nemesis below is throwing stones at her and her contractions are coming faster and faster, and there's no one there to help get her down from that tree, and now the snakes are crawling all over and getting closer to her, and are you feeling sorry for this character yet?
Do you care what she's up against?
Do you care if she will deliver her baby only to have the snakes unlock their venemous and starving jaws and eat the baby live? If so, then I'm on the right track!
Yeah, I gotta finish it Tuesday. Or die trying.
5. Lose thirty pounds.
6. Send Tukey to his first day of junior kindergarten, and no worries, I will not be crying because of this, only crying because number 5 is unaccomplishable at this point.
But it will be Tukey's third year at this preschool, so he's BMOC, or Big Man on Campus. And forgive me Blogther, for I hath sinned. I did not blog at all about my little Tukey turning FIVE on Saturday. Bad mommy, bad, bad, bad mommy!
There were a couple interesting things to note about the day though, the first being when he awoke, he came into my room, and said, "I don't want to be five. I want to still be four, and your little baby."
Me too, honey, me too. I don't like that my baby is five. Five is harder than 35 was.
And another point in the day, I asked him, as I often ask my kids: "Do you have any questions you want to know about life?"
His answer: "Nope. Everything is perfect."
7. Pack.
The Manic Rap
Please don't cry,
please don't frown,
but Manic Mom's
going out of town.
Where she's going, nobody knows,
what's she doing, do you suppose?
Is she drinking, sleeping, or what?
Is she exercising off her butt?
Sunshine, books and sleep when she wants
Away from this keyboard and its fonts.
She'll be back, don't ya worry,
And she'll be in less of a fury.
Cuz relaxing is what she's gonna do
without the Diva, Ajers and Tukey too,
They'll be missed you can bet,
but this is a trip she won't regret.
To a new state where she's never been
And no it ain't Michigan.
Somewhere out toward the West
Is the place where she will rest.
Recharged, relaxed, that's what she'll be,
Maybe she'll write books two and three?
Who the heck knows, why should ya care?
But when she gets back, stories she'll share.
In the meantime, check out the links
To the people who I think don't stinks*.
They're over there, on your right.
Now wish me good luck, on my flight!
Peace out fellow bloggers, readers and lurkers!
*If your blog is not listed on my sidebar, it's only because you haven't asked me to add it, so go ahead, ask.
please don't frown,
but Manic Mom's
going out of town.
Where she's going, nobody knows,
what's she doing, do you suppose?
Is she drinking, sleeping, or what?
Is she exercising off her butt?
Sunshine, books and sleep when she wants
Away from this keyboard and its fonts.
She'll be back, don't ya worry,
And she'll be in less of a fury.
Cuz relaxing is what she's gonna do
without the Diva, Ajers and Tukey too,
They'll be missed you can bet,
but this is a trip she won't regret.
To a new state where she's never been
And no it ain't Michigan.
Somewhere out toward the West
Is the place where she will rest.
Recharged, relaxed, that's what she'll be,
Maybe she'll write books two and three?
Who the heck knows, why should ya care?
But when she gets back, stories she'll share.
In the meantime, check out the links
To the people who I think don't stinks*.
They're over there, on your right.
Now wish me good luck, on my flight!
Peace out fellow bloggers, readers and lurkers!
*If your blog is not listed on my sidebar, it's only because you haven't asked me to add it, so go ahead, ask.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Gone Drinking
Now I understand how so many authors end up as drunks.
This is harder than I thought, but I'm taking a break, and going out to enjoy some vino.
Does this make me a real writer? That I've been struggling through a major, major, and final rewrite in the hopes of landing my dream agent, and that I have neck cramps, a crab-ass attitude, insomnia, and the desire to just go out and get shitfaced?
Well, then, sign me up!
This is harder than I thought, but I'm taking a break, and going out to enjoy some vino.
Does this make me a real writer? That I've been struggling through a major, major, and final rewrite in the hopes of landing my dream agent, and that I have neck cramps, a crab-ass attitude, insomnia, and the desire to just go out and get shitfaced?
Well, then, sign me up!
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