Wednesday, June 4, 2008

On today's plate...

I know as of late, I may appear a tad lethargic, maybe even a touch of lazy. However, my friends, do not confuse my utter exhaustion with apathy, in reality, I have quite a lot going on, I just can't get my brain and body to get psyched about it all at the moment. I am pretty sure it's because I spend my nights not sleeping and totally sweating my ass off. It's so humid. Even my bed feels moist. But, will my husband allow me to turn on the air conditioners? No. He is not a sweater, he is always chilly, and apparently, it is his internal temperature that we set the clocks by around here. You would think he would get sick of waking up next to McSweaty Pitstains, but apparently not.


I am realizing I have a lot to do before the big HS reunion next October. Besides the normal to do list of making a kick ass mix tape to play during cocktails and hiring the best balloon arch maker in the country, I have other more personal matters to attend to. There is no way I am going to attend while pregnant, so I am definitely going to have to pop one out here pretty soon if I want to be done with birthing things by the time I am 30, besides I would like to set the room abuzz with whispers of eating disorders at the mere site of my extreme thinness and Olsen like gaunt, and that, my friends, takes time.

Plus, I am pretty sure I want to take Jason Bateman as my date. I, of course, love my husband, and we graduated together, so it's not like he won't be there anyways, it's just that, I really adore Jason Bateman. He is the male douche bag version of me, in every adorable, lovable way. We would spend the night making snarky comments about people from our table, and trying to out one-line each other...and if we made out later...worse things have happened.


I stopped seeing my chiropractor. Does my back still hurt? Yes. Yes it does. But, I couldn't take him repeating the same jokes over and over, like this winner..."Ya know sweetie, when I was born, I was so ugly, the doctor slapped my mom." First off, how does this joke even relate to the fact I have no shirt on and you are supposed to be cracking my back and zapping me with magic lasers? And, just because you are an old man, it still totally creeps me out that you call me sweetie when manhandling manipulating my bare skin. I mean, it's better than say...sugar tits, but it's still pretty high on the creepy scale. Lastly, his breath smelled funny. Not really bad, but just...funny. Like he brushed his teeth with some kind of old man tooth cream made of rubbing alcohol, baking soda, and shoe polish.

So now, I have resorted to laying on my stomach on the floor, and putting fruit snacks on my back so the boys can jump on and wrestle for them. I wouldn't say it's as medically sound as seeing a professional, but it does the job.


So we are having a garage sale this weekend. I have invited my family and a few friends to bring all their crap over to my house, dump it in my driveway, and watch as old ladies and thrifty yard sale junkies try and haggle the price down on chipped glasses and my favorite green Grateful Dead dancing bear lamp (Which I am STILL pissed about selling!).

When I made the decision to do this, I was excited to be rid of all the junk, but I greatly underestimated the stress involved in organizing, categorizing and selling piles of crap. Plus, I am a little competitive, and I will be pissed if my neighbor, who is only selling 4 old tires, a tie dye beanbag chair, and a small table of old hyper color t shirts and framed Simpson posters, has more people in her yard than me.


I let the kids play with my cell phone. I am admitting it. Sometimes, the bad reception and slobbery ear piece is worth the five minutes of silence. At first, it was so cute, they would walk around the house with the phone to their ear like mommy, having important gibberish conversations, but they have now mastered the art of actually calling people, and, subsequentially, reaching the voice mail boxes of people on my contact list.

Lucky for me, when they pushed a random series of buttons yesterday, they only managed to call my friend Laura, and it was on her voice mail, not that of, say, my husband's boss, or my mother in law, that a 3 minute message was left featuring me, in the background, singing the poopy diaper song to my oldest as I changed him.

Poop, poop, poop, who likes to poop? You like to poop! I like to poop! We all like to poop! Poop, poop, poop. Stinky, stinky poop.

This will now be held over my head for years, and I have since enabled the lock feature on my cell phone.

Lesson learned.


Not Just Any Jen said...

OF nooooo!! Not the Grateful Dead lamp!

And, really? Jason Bateman? The other day I asked my husband if Batemen reminded him at all of Michael J. Fox, but then I realized it was probably because they both played Teen Wolf. Then I snorted water out my nose. It was unpleasant.

Not Just Any Jen said...

Oh my goodness, it was YOU singing the song? Ha!

Christie said...

You are too funny! My kids also play with the cell phone! My Irish twins are also 11 months apart. They share one holiday the same guess it...St Patty's Day and my husband is a first generation American. His dad was born in Ireland! Look forward to reading your blog more!

Politi Gal said...

Nooo...Not the Grateful Dead dancing bear lamp!

Politi Gal said...

Someone hear an echo?

Jan said...

It's as humid as hell here, too. And I'm a Sweaty Betty who has to suffer through the night with no A/C. What is it with these people who seem impervious to heat?

And this is only the beginning, many more months of torment to follow. Roll on October.

Judy @ No Fear Entertaining said...

Wow-a reunion, back pain, cell phone issues that can all be handled but garage sales suck. My husband tried to talk me into one once but before he could tell me when it was going to be I took all of our shit to Goodwill. I will not have someone rifle through my treasures and then try to haggle!!!

Amy said...

What do you think she's asking for the hypercolor shirts?

Brittany said...

Jen...I KNOW! I will miss it dearly, but I have to part with it in order to sell my husband's top gun paintings. And yes, I am all about the Bateman, and I sing songs about poop...I am a whole lotta awesome:)

Christie...Thanks for stopping by, I am always excited to meet a fellow irish twin mommy. we are a rare breed these days:)

Politi...I have to. I can't take looking at oil paintings of Goose and Maverick in the flightsuits anymore. It's a sacrifice I MUST make. is this fair? He gets to be thinner than me AND not sweat all over the place?! Boo!

Judy...See, this is what i am dreading. I won't haggle over my junk, the emotional ties run too deep.

Amy...Your ass BETTER not be over there buying from her.

Wendy said...

I think an audio clip of the poop song is in order, because really, the world NEEDS that.

Just found your blog tonight and you are HI-larious. Go you.

Natalie said...

i had a poopy boy song that i sung too. thank god the kids i sang it to are now old enough to take care of their poop themselves. well most of the time. my 10 year old still has issues occasionally, but they aren't his fault. and we DON'T sing the poopy boy song to him because it is no longer cute!

JennDZ - The Leftover Queen said...

Try free-cycle - that is how we got rid of all our un-needed things when we moved to FL from VT. It was nice!

Sorry your back is still hurting you!

Not Just Any Jen said...

P.S. I tagging you. Play along if you'd like.