At least the title was good

I'm Irish (like I don't wear that on my sleeve) hence I'm morbid.  It's just in the blood.  The running joke in my family, for instance, is that no party is complete without my mom's "untimely and tragic" story.  There needs to be at least one for the "Opa!" effect.

So really, what should I've expected when I read a novel by an Irish 23 year old?  A series of untimely and tragic events, of course.  But I didn't expect that.  I expected the book to be just as wonderful and moving as the movie P.S. I Love You.  (I don't even really like movies, let alone get effected by them.  During ps I love you I was streaming tears the entire time.  I'm not sure if pregnancy hormones had anything to do with it, but I'm not willing to take the risk that it wasn't.)   The cover of the book says that it's by the same author.  Which should've been my second red flag.  If you like a movie so so much, chances are the book can't live up to the movie.  And isn't it always a shame when you read the book then watch the movie?  ( I hear Eat, Pray, Love is exceptional.)

and And that was the only credit that the book cover gave to this book.  No New York Times reviews.  No reviews at all, really.  No preface (not that a book needs them, because frankly, I never read them.  Although I always realize in retrospect that I should've read the preface.  This happens every single time.)

So.  With all that being said, I need to say one more thing.  I never thought that I'd be the type of person that would write a bad review on a book.  It is someone's piece of art, after all, and who am I to slander that?  Why would I deter someone else from reading it?  (especially since it's just a depressing novel?)  I have no answers to that question other than I can't believe I wasted 450 pages (but only 3 days, if I might add) to read it.

It was series after series of missed meetings with the true other.  And then when they're fifty and divorced and baby mamas and baby daddys and failures failures failure and 415 pages of FAIL they decide "oh my true love!  We've been "best friends" (let's face it you can't have the opposite sex be your best friend through marriages et cetera et cetera) since we were 5 now let's get mawwwwied even though your post menopausal and we have a combined three children in three different countries.  AND you're a successful doctor who only cares about work and YOU'RE always bitching about being a single mother and the manager of a hotel who didn't even pass health dept regulations."  And you're attracted to each other why?

There is one thing I was impressed with, however.  Apart from the epilogue, the whole book was written via letters, emails, Instant messages.  But when I think back about the story, the times and places of events are very clear.  That is the one and only thing that I would describe as "talent" or literal "piece of work."  But boyy, was this book a piece of work.

I also like the Title (main character's name) Rosie Dunne.  Who wouldn't want to be named that?  And I liked reading it in my own version of an Irish brogue.  That was the one thing that kept me from scratchimg my eyes out.

So if you're ever in the mood to read a very frustrating story that uses phrases like "gone mental" and "demented" and every 150 pages mentions a drag queen named "Miss Behave" to jazz the story up, this is definitely the book for you.

But clearly, I don't want to talk about it, so keep it to yourself.

I'm off to read about training my puppy, for a dose (or more) of reality.

I think I'm ready

Whoa now that was one heck of a hiatus.

Hi!  I'm back and I might even be ready to commit.  Fingers crossed.

For a while there I just kinda lost my mind.  I'm busy being bored.  Bored as in Mr Incredible is home 6 hours a night and I need. to. fill. the. days.  So I shop.  I shop for food, I shop for me, I shop for Mr I, I shop for my family, I shop for birthdays that will occur in November.  Expensive habit, I know.

I've also been busy being American.  Because if you're not busy in July then you're not American and your passport should be revoked immediately.  Many a hotdog's been ate and an icecream cone been slurped (lie I don't like cones).  Beaches have been tread upon and pool's a peed in.

The whole gardening spiel that I wrote about?  Niet.  Too sticky, too many bugs.  And it only looks okay.  Which, if you think you know me, means that my towel is just about thrown in.  For this year anyway.

See you tomorrow?

No money in the world

This is not an obituary.  They're alive and kickin' despite what these close up photos say.  

Just sayin', I wouldn't have it any other way.

You know this isn't a mommy blog.  But I do own bragging rights.

Was it the chad?

I've lost a total of three (or was it four?) followers in the past 2 weeks.  I realize that people who "follow" don't necessarily read.  I also understand that people want to weed out the blogs that they don't actually read.  It doesn't make the sting go away though.

I've been thinking a lot about unfollowing blogs that I don't read.  I would rather not have a blog roll and instead have my own reliable list of blogs I enjoy.  After losing "so many" (<- relative) followers though, I'm not sure I want to put anyone else through the disappointment.  Frankly, it sucks.

So, was it the chad?

Tuesdays are always blog hell

Here's my blog routine:
Tuesday I begrudgingly blog
Wednesday I'm inspired and want to blog forevvver
Thursday I blog
Friday I want to blog but Fridays are always spectacularly busy
Saturday I want to blog but convince myself that I should take a blog break
Sunday- what blog?
Monday oh that blog.  nah.
Tuesday- I'd better blog or I'll forget about it forever..  and so forth.

HAPPY TUESDAY.

maybe i'll catch you up on my life a little later.

the only reason i wrote this post is to have my p90x body NOT the first thing that you guys will see.

this is how we roll

we didn't do anything for valentine's day.  we're doing champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries for Fat Tuesday.

Cheer's to being fat!

ching.

I needed to give him a grace period

I know I've been holding out on all of you for far too long.  I'm also aware that no one is dying to know the big question.  I'll go Jeopardy on you and give you the answer, since I know you have no idea what I'm talking about.  No.  Mr Incredible is neither following nor commenting on my blog.  He did read the posts from Incredible Week, though.  No comments.  No Mr Incredible thumbnail picture under my followers.  none. zero. zip. nada.


"...but then I'd have to sign up and get another google account..."  no.  NO.  I'm mean yes.  Nike.  Nike.  Just do it.  Because we alll know that you sign into your google account to check sports 3 times a day.


Okay, actually, I really don't care that much.  But I just wanted to update you guys since *ahem* much effort and participation was put into that week.  Thanks to everyone who participated and commented.  Really, it meant a lot.

I feel like I'm blog-cool enough to do this

I used to think that bloggers that made general apologies on their blogs were a tad bit cocky.  So big deal, I'm cocky.  I have 54 followers now, you know.  (wassup to Cara, Tracie, and Angelia my most recent 3 followers.) (what?  I like to acknowledge my readers.  don't hate.)


So remember that cold that was being passed around Incredible land?  ...
I realized I'm not invincible today.  I think I got the damn thing.  Which means the following:  I haven't read any blogs.  (Not that I'm obligated to.  I love it.  Just sayin'.  Sorry if I haven't been around your parts of the virtual world lately.)   Nor have I checked any emails.  Well, I've checked some.  But some doesn't cut it, I know.  
I barely have even checked my comments.  If I have, I don't remember them because my head feels like it's been submerged in water for the past 11 hours. 
 Lastly, if I do blog, it will probably be about my head cold, and I may even tell you the verdict about whether or not Vick's Vapor rub works on adults' feet as well.  


In summary:  This is a general apology.  I'm sorry for being the worst virtual friend ever.

If you stare at this long enough you'll get a glimpse into my head-submerged-in-water-type-feeling.

Blogging is a priority and i don't prioritize very well

Actually, only half of that statement is true.  Blogging is not a priority.  But I loves it. And depending on who you ask I may or may not prioritize very well.  


On to bigger and better topics- I have a lot to do on my blogging agenda!  1) I have awards to accept 2) I have to catch up on practically two weeks of nada blog 3) let's discuss p90x vs. weight watchers.  I know you're on the edge of your seat.

Thank you for the awards I've received this month!  Yay! I was totally crying to Mr Incredible a while back that I'm a bum blogger because I've never gotten awards (insert his response here)

Thank you to from Samantha at Apple Juice and Milk. !! 

okay so the above I got a little greedy with because it was to anyone.  Who does that?  Someone with no shame.

I'll follow Samantha's rules here and give it to my top 5 KickAss Bloggers:

Ally at Magnolias and Mimosas

Salt at Salt Says

Monique at Triathlete Wife

Jess at Cape Cod Awesome

Hutch at Be Awesome Instead

And then I got this from Salt.  Which I'm pumped about.

I don't think there are any rules, buuuuut if I comment on your blog, then take it.  Means you're doin something right.

These here are from Shandal at My Life in 3D.  My p90x sistaaaaaa.  Thank you so much for thinking of me! This ones rules are that I have to list 7 interesting things about me and pass it on to 7 blogs.

1. I hate the smell of worms on a rainy day after I brush my teeth
2. My thumbs are double jointed
3. It's sick how much peanut butter I can eat on a spoon
4. It's sick how much quiche I can eat.
5. I dislocated my shoulder twice playing basketball and ended up needing surgery.
6. I'm either sick or pregnant if I don't want coffee
7. I've never had a cavity

And I'm happy to pass this on to:

1. Heather at Namaste-Heather
2. Laura at Steam Spectre  and Gypsea Tree
3. Chew at My Life as of 6/18/09
4. Shana at Fumbling Towards Normalcy
5. Nancy C at Away We Go
6. Amanda at It's Blogworthy
7. LMJ at I've Been Thinking

I also got this from Shandal, which is pretty sweet because we're a) blog friends b) p90x friends c) facebook friends.  So booya'll.

Since there are no rules, I'll just pass this on to my own newly blog friends:

1. Salt
2. Allyson
3. Jess
4. Hutch
5. T!nk (whether you know it or not, we are friends you know, T!nk)
6. Monique
7. Cee

And since I know that I missed out on people I want to give blog awards to, I'll come back later and update.  I haven't been on the computer in what seems to be agesssss and I have the brain capacity of an ant. 

And I'm too tired (now that this post took me approx 10 hours) to talk about p90x vs. weight watchers or the past two weeks of me life.

I know you didn't think you just entered into a contest, but in fact, you did.

So as you all know, I had a pretty bad day.  I'll probably get into it tomorrow when I have more energy, but I've got to say.  You folks really brought it today.  I mean.  I feel fat.  I'm tired, my house is a wreck blah blah blah.    Oh, and while grocery shopping my HUGE cart with a car in the front and carseat in the back that I wasn't using because I was carrying the baby crashed into one of those sticker printing produce thing and it fell over and smashed into a million pieces.  I threw up my white flag and walked away.  That was just the type of day I was having.  But you guys.  I'm pleased with the company I was in today.  So thank you for sharing your misery.

But maybe my day wasn't so bad after all:

Namaste-Heather had a pretty bad day, I think.

??

anyone else's monday as SHITTY AS MINE?  please don't comment how good yours is.  tell me how fat you feel.  


that's the kind of mood i'm in.  and no i will not use the shift key unless a swear word is involved.

Blog School

Important Note: I like all the blogs I read, or else I would not read them.

The more blogs I read, the more I realize that the blogosphere is high school. Some people loved high school. That's cool, that's weird. The high school-blog correlation is not necessarily a bad thing though, it's just interesting. note: I went to an all girls' school so I'm not talking boy drama. I hope there is no blog boy drama. ew.

I personally know the author's of each of the blogs I read because I went to high school with them. Start getting paranoid, kids. I know what your past consisted of and what your future holds. I wish I could either name names or name blogs, but I do not have the liberty to do that. Someone would get offended, I'm sure, although, frankly, that's just the way you are (or at least come across). No need to get mad at me.

What I am able to do, however, is tell you the pattern. There are always at least 3 groups. There are the cool skankies who party all together and shun everyone else. The leader of the group is decent, but doesn't care about anyone's feelings. But people still drool. Call. Text. Talk like. Act like. Try to joke like. No one's convinced or impressed about/by the others, but they're all still trying to be like Head Honcho. Head Honcho doesn't have a best friend, and if she does she puts her down frequently. And Head Honcho is very private in a weird way. Kind of unpredictable. Disciples of Head Honcho think they can hold their own when they talk and act like her. They fall flat.

Then there is the middle group. Where the disciples would be a heck of a lot cooler if they acted like and stayed in this group. The middle group is each their own person, but make for a dynamic group. However, they don't know each other too well, and feelings tend to get hurt easily. Someone always gets left out, forgotten, not given enough credit asldfkj asldkj asdlfkj. There are little cliques inside these groups, and one person can be involved in more than one clique at a time. Typically people from this group get along well with Head Honcho because they're just cool. Don't put much thought into anything, just act like themselves (probably because of the support system within their class).

Then of course, there are the bottom feeders. Some are bottom feeders because they just are, and some are because they're insecure and don't feel worthy of a higher position (these people are the Head Honcho of bottom feeder because they are generally very nice). First group and this group either know nothing of each other or are great friends (but of course this is kept private or else the class system would get all effed up).

Did you catch all of that?

So now here are the titles (place in appropriate class):

• Smart Head Honcho
• Smart, sexy, cool
• Smart really cool because you hold your own
• Smart wannabe
• Not funny, in middle class
• Ditsy funny, in middle class
• In middle class because you have "connections"
• Smart, funny, insecure, put other people down
• Talk too much
• Talk too much about relationships and babymamas/babydaddys
• Mysterious
• Smart but gets bad grades
• Sporty
• Sporty wannabe
• Head Honcho's bff
• Lowest class but awesome- deserve top class ranking
• lowest class wannabe like LCA (low class awesome)
• lowest class and eff all the rest of you
• me

I have no idea where I fall in any of these categories. Edify me, readers and classmates alike. Where am I? Who am I?

omg omg omg I thought I was over this Identity Crisis.

Twitter

I'm actually quite sure that I'm the only person on planet cyberspace who doesn't have Twitter.  Actually, I do have a Twitter account, but I didn't get it, so I didn't do it.  I forget my username and password.  

I suddenly had an urge (read: kids were all asleep at 645 and have cruised the internet a time or three) to get a Twitter account for Imperfect.  But I clutched because I don't get it.  And because I just keep referring back to this video:  twitter whore


btw i have facebook im not that un vogue.  

There Is, In Fact, a Direct Correlation Between Vaccinations and John the Baptist's Head.

There is little question in my mind of whether or not to get my children vaccinated.  My Grandmother told me a story that made my decision very easy and very clear:

Her Grandfather's son (her uncle that she never knew) contracted diptheria.  Basically what happens is a membrane grows over your throat until you choke to death.  Enough said?  No.  There's more to the story.  This little boy had to be quarantined in his house as to not let the highly contagious disease spread.  His parents had to stay elsewhere to let their son die alone.  Are you convinced yet to get your kids vaccinated?  The father walked by his house one morning to work, and saw his son choking to death.  He burst into his house to save/be with his son when he was dying.  His son died and then the father contracted it and died.

I remember this when I have to bring my babies to get vaccinated.  It takes the edge off my anxiety and reassures me that I am doing the right thing.  But why, why? do they have to bring the shots in on a silver platter?

Let's Talk Ugg Boots

Are you, friends, considering Ugg boots?  I'll tell you my two cents:

• I got them last year because I needed boots and they seemed to be the waste of money safest bet.  You just don't know how boots will really look on yourself, so go with the trend.  If they look bad, you know they'll look bad on others, too
• First time I wore them, they leaked.  I had been advised of this.  But really.  Dropping $160 on boots just to have them leak is capital A capital B capital S capital U capital R capital D.  I do not know if spelling out capital just proved a point.  I'm guessing no.
• Quiz:  what do you think that the said leaking does to your Australian boots (do Australians even wear boots?)  Right on.  They smell.
• I Arm and Hammered them, of course.  To get my money's worth.  Of course.  
• And I'm still wearing them this year, when they're not wet and smelly.  The Catch.  I live in Buffalo.  Of course their going to get wet and smelly.  
• They're so going out of style.  In my book.
• Moral of the story:  I just ordered new boots (not Uggs- I'm smarter than that... although I do wonder if they've improved yet...)  Moral of the Story for You:  order your non-ugg boots now.  They're all on sale.  You'll thank me next year.

I could've gotten these from Urban Outfitters for $16 and been equally dissatisfied with my leaks in the Target parking lot.

It's My Control Freakish Nature at It's Peak of Testing Me.

I am the type of mother who would be able to lift up and 18 wheeler with my pinky if it was on my kids.  I would do anything for my kids, not necessarily to make them "happy," but to keep them safe, loved and confident.  I sometimes feel like a great mom.  


That being said.  I lose my shit when babies cry.  3 year old crying is fine.  A little comfort and soothing goes a long way.  22 month cries are fine too, just a little bit of "well, you can't have it now, but DEFINITELY within in the next ten years you can have it, okayyyyy?" goes a long way too.  But 3 month old wails.  I cannot do anything to make your gas go away and it makes me exponentially sad.  And my "mature" way of being sad is to get crazy.  aka I beat my chest and say "LORD PLEASE DO SOMETHING.  LORD HELP ME.  LORD HELP MY BABBBBBY."  And that is the 3 year old cue to say, "why does Lloyd need to help you?"


So, there you have it.  That's the sort of morning I'm having.  Mr Incredible def thinks I'm Mrs Unincredible when I lose my shit.  And when I say I lose it, I mean.  I. lose. it.  Asylum material.  Pacing through the house, picking up things and putting them down over and over.  Telling Mr Incredible that she is crying because he didn't empty his gym bag.

this is what I look like when I lose it.  Facial hair and all.

Post it Tuesday

Supah Mommy's smart idea

If Shutterfly was Eyeliner I Might Print You Pictures

Just in case you're wondering where I am, did I die, do her posts reflect an unstable nature, know that I'm virtually here, I am alive, and post holidays make me unstable yes they do.  So let's talk about that:

Target's exchange policy says
<---- this, precisely.  I need to exchange my 8x10 frames for 5x7, Target.  No I don't have a receipt, no I do not know where my driver's license is, here is my passport, no that doesn't work?  Head hung low.

I will try my best to print pictures for everyone who has requested them.  In the mean time, assume that my child is beautiful.  I realize that she is nearly 3 months.


I have not done normal household chores in about a week, until today.  Mr Incredible thought it would be best not to tell cyberspace that my kitchen sink stinks of rotten eggs.

Through mind reading, I can tell that people think I am a snobby matriarch.  I'm sure my tendency towards a) a control freakish nature and b) pearls supports this terrible accusation.  


My spending inclinations are on a downward spiral.  This is concerning.  I am becoming of victim of free shipping.  I am the clay pigeon of buy one get one with beverage purchase auntie annes.  I am not getting a snack half price.   I'm getting doubly fat.  This I know.  


Let's wrap this up, shall we?  The following are features of schizophrenia:  emotional blunting  (I just don't care)  Intellectual deterioration (thesaurus.com, dictionary.com)  Social isolation (I blog.  It's a slippery slope.)  Disorganized speech and behavior (for another day I'll tell you about my social inappropriateness.)  Delusions (there are no calories when I eat my kids leftovers because it was theirs)  Hallucinations (I see yellow spots on everything.)

The Bane of My Existence

I am so. very. grateful.  for all of my family and friends that give us unfaltering support all of the time!  However.  I've always been absolutely notorious with thank you notes.  I have no idea why.  I think they are this big, built up thing in my head that goes right along with my perfectionism (that never gets me anywhere, mind you).  Here's what I think of them:

a) I feel it should be more than three sentences.  A simple 'thanks!' is not enough.  So should I mention the recent death, marriage, baby... (I suck at getting gifts out in any sort of timely fashion, either)?  Should I update them about our life? 

b) The addressing.  Who lives where, what time of year, or did they get evicted?  I don't know.  And did she take his name, or is he Mr. So (next line) she Ms. SoSo even thought they're married?  Are they married?  Did I send them a gift?  Oh wait, that husband died?  Damnit.  I just sent their wedding gift.

c) The stamps.  My one friend sent out all of her last minute invitations for her two year olds party, just to have them sent back to her (on the day of the party) because she used Christmas stamps- which were three cents too short.  Each.  Her kid didn't get any bday gifts from the last minute people who did show (like me, sans gift, that was in August, still deciding on the perfect gift)  Who really has the right stamps?  Oh, really?  You mean people who send their notes out on time?  All the time?  Dang.  Something to consider.

Anyway, long post short.  A rude awakening (a very, very close relative) got me on top of the ball.  My goal on Thanksgiving was to actually get them done.  All 30 of them.  True story.  I got them done. Addressed. (because what better day to give thanks?) Now I've got to go get those stamps.

So friends, family, they're coming.  I promise.  In the meantime, a million sincere thanks.  

And congratulations to all those whose weddings I've missed, babies I don't remember that exist, and grievings that have me tongue tied.  Be patient- good things will come your way.  (I may seem completely self absorbed- I might be- but I really just think my brain is melting)

New Year's Resolution?  yes.

I Won!

yay, yay, yay! I won this honey spinner from Leigh (it's almost embarrassing how much I've blogged about her in the past week), author of Marvelous Kiddo.

Since we've moved into our house, I've had this idea for the eat in part of our kitchen. I want to have a rectangular, vertical shelf with three shelves. (Am I making sense? I'm terrible at describing.) On one of each of the shelves I want a jar of jam, peanut butter, and honey (because our eat in part is more like a breakfast nook). Somehow hanging next to each respective jar, I want a honey spinner (hurrah!) and two spreaders- I have one with daisies on the top.

I'm so excited because this spinner is so much more tasteful than one you'd find in Target.