The similarities are frightening

Anyone remember video dating from the 80s? 

I didn't, until a friend sent me a Youtube montage. 

Then, I came across what is possibly the greatest video dating tape ever. 

I now present to you: 
Video Dating for Ridge Rats

Enjoy!

I'm making life lemonade

It seems like a lot of people are questioning the existence of God lately. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just coming up more in the news since school is starting and there's the evolution vs. creationism debate, or because Dan Brown has a new book out, who knows?

Either way, for the record, I 100% believe in God. And I'm not going to go on a religious tirade about it.

One of many reasons I believe in God is that there must be something/someone out there who is having a hell of a time pulling the strings in my life right now. At first I was certain God was having a laugh at my expense...but then He gave me so many more things I could join in laughing about, that I had to share.

Let me start with Thursday.

Our office tv is busted, but under warranty. We had a samsung repairman scheduled to come between 8-9 am. 9 am rolls around, and he's nowhere to be found. I checked my voicemail, only to find that he apparently called while I was in the shower, to see if the part needing replacing had arrived at our house yet, and when we would like to schedule an appointment for him to install it.

First of all, why did the part get shipped to our house if he's just going to have to call and check that it's there before the appointment is made? Couldn't it have been shipped to HIS house and we could've avoided the whole mess?

Second, what the hell do you mean when would I like to schedule an appointment? Where were you an hour ago? You know, between 8-9 am? On your scheduled appointment via Samsung?

I finally get a hold of him and he says there's been a mixup. OF COURSE there has. I kinda brainstormed that one when you didn't show up and left me an asinine voicemail. Apparently the "appointment" scheduled originally was an appointment for him to call me and see whether the part had arrived. WHO DOES THAT?

On top of all this, I ran out of contacts, and had a very much needed eye dr appointment that morning, in Peoria, at 10:15. I was rushing around, so we finally scheduled the appointment for 4 pm that day. Surely that would give me enough time to get my errands done, and get home.

Wrong. He was already there when I got home. I come in, dragging bags of crap with me, and Adam's practically rushing out the door. "Ok honey, glad you're back, I NEED to go help Heath put his pool table together, gotta go!" Oooook. "Don't worry, the repairman is almost done. The tv is way worse than we thought, so he doesn't have all the parts he needs and he's going to have to come back." GREAT. Sooooo freakin glad I rushed home for this.

Of course, since I was rushing home, I didn't stop and go to the bathroom like I wanted to. Now I have a dilemma.

I'm the only one home. The repairman is "almost done," and the last thing I want is for him to get done and have to go searching through our house to find me in the bathroom. So I wait. And wait. And wait. Apparently, he is not "almost done." I, on the other hand, am done waiting to use the bathroom. Now, it's time to strategize.

I cannot use the bathroom next to the office, because I do not want an audience. I cannot use my master bathroom because then he would have to stalk through the house and find me, and I might not hear him coming. This leaves the half bath in the mudroom. Perfect, if he tries to leave I can hear him, and I'm far enough away that he won't be bothered w/ the sound effects of what is turning into a major Code Brown.

But, God is a humorist.

I finally head to the bathroom, and I'm miserable. Things are not progressing as planned. FINALLY I'm near mission accomplished, and my nightmare begins. The repairman is done. He's doing exactly what I feared, walking through the house, "Lauren? Lauren? Hello? Anyone home?" Could today get any better?

OCD note: I hate shaking hands with people when I've just washed them. I mean, you know what I've been doing, so does the fact that I've washed them even matter? But I digress...

Sure enough, new parts are being shipped to the house (just arrived today, so we will see how long before I get another "appointment") and someone, maybe not even him, will be back, sometime, he doesn't know when, to fix the tv. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Like I said, I had my doubts as to whether or not the day could get any better. Then God handed me this gem. I now present to you, the Ferrariata. Please take a good look at all of its glory.

I find the tape quite lovely.

The masterpiece that is the Ferrariata belongs to the Samsung repairman. Thank you Jesus.

Thursday night at dinner, our friend informed us that she had a drink we just "had to try. It's this new stuff called sangria. You're gonna love it!" Apparently she did realize sangria is not new, just that the product in malt liquor form is new. I did not love it. Tastes like gum. Bacardi sangria, in case anyone wondered.

Further into the dinner, our neighbor was telling stories, but not making too much sense. Another friend asked her what time she started drinking that day. She replied, "17."

After dinner our sangria friend invited us over to hang out while the guys finished putting the pool table together. You see, "put pool table together" earlier that day had been code for "drink beer with my buddies." Adam's excuse was that he'd been "stuck at home all day with Bella." That entailed watching tv and making his own lunch, so it was pretty taxing. Now the pool table was still unfinished, and their housewarming party was the next day, so the boys actually had to work on it. We headed over for what turned out to be the most homoerotic redneck pool table assembly I've ever witnessed. Unfortunately, these photos are too hot for this blog to handle.

Instead, you get a summary of my lessons learned from the pool table incident:

1. Crack kills.

2. Moose knuckles should not be created voluntarily.

3. If Adam thinks it's hard being stuck at home all day with the dog, perhaps it's time to start another blog called "how to know you are NOT ready to have children."

Friday morning, I decided to eat our english muffins before they expired. I sliced my finger open in the process, and just deep enough that it hurt and I needed a band-aid to keep it from pulling apart at every opportunity. When Adam came home from lunch, he informed me that the muffins are pre-sliced. So glad I wasted that cut.

After that, I determined it was time to start the Wii EA Active fitness program I bought 2 months ago and never used. "Medium intensity" was a mistake. I spent the rest of the weekend unable to get my legs to a seated position without shaking and groaning. Always nice to remind yourself just how out of shape you are when starting a new exercise regimen. Luckily, that did motivate me to keep going, clearly I need it! It just took 2 days before I could walk to the Wii and try it again.

Friday night, we had a birthday party as well as a housewarming party to attend. We all had a great time, so many thanks to Heath, Alicia, Corey, Cindy and Keith for their hospitality.

Saturday morning, I intended to clean the bathroom, and when I went to empty the trash I noticed a new magazine had been added to the reading pile. Adam's reading pile.

Me: "Honey, I noticed you've been reading a new magazine in the bathroom. Since when do you read Midwest Living?"

Adam: "So? What's wrong with that? There's like, RECIPES and shit in there!"

How can I argue with that?

A few weeks ago, our sangria friend had a Lia Sophia book party. Someone ordered some jewelry, but the check was lost. 2 weeks later, she found the check while doing a routine cleaning; the check was under the bathroom scale. Apparently, her boyfriend lacked reading material as well, and the Lia Sophia catalog was all he could find during his time of need...the rest is history.

Since my quads were all torn up from my pathetic Wii workout, I asked Adam if he could drive me to CVS so that I could pick up the prescription for the ring. Sign #2 you are not ready to have children: If your husband suggests a John Deere O-ring as a viable birth control option, in order to avoid a trip to CVS.

Sorry Ty, you are not getting the sale on that one.

That sums up my weekend in the ridge. No doubt there is plenty more ridiculousness to follow.

I Don't Get It

I've been writing this blog in my head for about 3 months. I still don't think I can quite articulate my true feelings on the matter, but I'm going to try. What's a blog for if you can't fill it with all kinds of overly personal, TMI material? :)

How do you (as a woman) decide you're ready to have kids?

This may seem like a simple question to some of you. I suspect those of you who find it so simple are also people who have known for the vast majority of your lives that you wanted to be a mother. That must be nice.

I, on the other hand, have spent the vast majority of my life thinking it was a good possibility that I'd never have children, and I'd be ok with that. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not hate children. They are not at the top of my "fun things to do before you die" list, but I don't hate them. Hell, the fact that they're even ON the list is a huge step.

My supposed distaste for children, babies in particular, doesn't exist. It never has. Had you asked me about it 10 years ago, I might have disagreed, but only because I didn't understand. Look, no one is that excited about screaming, crying, throwing up, pooping your pants, and being incapable of self-preservation, whether we're talking about in infants or adults.

What I admit still confuses me regarding infants (and likely always will!) is not even the actual infant. It's the psycho women around them. My entire life, I've seriously believed something was wrong with me. Why? Because I, unlike the psychos mentioned above, do not have a big O every time there is a baby within a 50 mile radius. I don't get it.

It seems like society expects you, as a woman, to be OBSESSED with all babies, all the time. I'm just NOT. Sure babies are cute, but I don't spend every waking second thinking about them. I love my nieces and nephew, but I'm not dying to create one. When it happens, it happens, I just don't get the craziness.

My family is really big on roles, probably unknowingly. I was always the "book-smart, no common sense, baby hater." My sister was the "street-smart baby lover." Then I quit my job to help my husband on the farm and, presumably one day stay home w/ our imaginary children. My sister ends up having a baby around on a semi-regular basis and can't stand it. Go figure. Take those roles and shove them right up your ass, family. SICK OF IT.

I thought I had my bases covered. We all know that the night of your wedding reception, the questions start. "When are you going to have kids?" "How many kids do you want to have?" "Why do you want to wait a year?" Nosy, intrusive and overall inappropriate, but it happens. It's as if they're all hoping and praying you're already knocked up so they can start planning for the next major life event. Meanwhile, you spend half the time wishing you WERE pregnant so everyone would shut the hell up.

Not me, no no, I had all the answers. Of course I did. "I can't get pregnant now," I'd tell them. "Our maternity insurance doesn't kick in until May." This means I'm off the hook from your stupid fucking questions. Only, I recently learned it doesn't mean that at all, as my mother somehow figured (wishful thinking, perhaps?) that May=March and has been "telling all her friends." Not exactly sure WHAT she has been telling them, but she's telling them. Apparently, I'm just supposed to be knocked up March/May 1st.

Yet, in the midst of all this supposed desire for grandchildren, my entire family makes fun of me. I say we will have kids sooner rather than later, and they laugh and say I'll be the most obnoxious mom in the world. Why? Because I will love my child and think it's the best thing since sliced bread. SOUND THE ALARM!!!!! THE HORROR!!!!! So, maybe I don't know all there is to know about child rearing, but I'm fairly certain love and pride are sort of steps #1 & #2. What is so wrong with that? My own GRANDMOTHER, who I love and cherish dearly, told my mother that whenever I have kids, mom will have to move in with me for weeks because I will be so clueless and helpless. Again...I kinda thought that most new parents (not just moms!) don't know every single thing there is to know (how could they?), and you figure it out as you go. I didn't think you were supposed to be humiliated and ridiculed! But, they're all really desperate for grandchildren. Figure that one out. Sure seems tempting to get involved in that shit storm, doesn't it?

Back to my original question. How do you (as a woman) determine the right time to have children?

If it weren't for my wonderful husband, I know, without a doubt, I would likely remain childless. This isn't because he wants kids, or I don't, or anything of the sort. It's because he is the only person on this Earth that I feel comfortable with as my partner in becoming a parent. He doesn't think I'll be a shitty parent, or make fun of me, or think my questions/reservations are silly. He's not in a hurry. WE LIKE OUR LIVES. So how do you decide to give up the carefree, financially stable, traveling freely, AWESOME lifestyle? For diapers? For the Goofy Ridge educational system?

I keep hearing, "oh you just know." Bullshit. I don't buy it. Maybe someday I will look back at this and laugh. Until then, I call shenanigans!

I keep hearing, "well we're not using protection, so if it happens, it happens. If not, then ok." Shenanigans! You're not using protection. That means you've made the decision to have children, because that is what happens when you have unprotected sex. Just ask the parents of the millions of "surprise" babies! :)

I keep hearing, "isn't it the same way you made the decision to get married?" NO! First of all, there was expensive jewelry, a big party and an awesome tropical vacation involved in my decision to get married. (JOKING, people, relax!) But seriously, getting married meant spending the rest of my life doing the same things I was already doing, with someone I loved. It didn't mean extra financial stress. It didn't mean waking up every 2 hours. It didn't mean shelving my vacations and shoes for braces and college tuition.

I look at all the parents out there, parents who I think are doing a great job. They are self-less. They would do anything for their children. How do you become that self-less? Does it just happen when they hand you the baby? I am not self-less.

Maybe I'll never figure it out. I told Adam there's a possibility I might have to be drunk, or tricked (though it would be pretty hard to trick me into not using the ring, since it's kinda all up in my business!), maybe drugged. Again, not because it isn't something I want to do, but because my mind keeps warning me of all the things that change (everything) the second you get pregnant. Maybe I should just stick with Bella.

Can anyone help me?

Life changes

*WARNING: This blog contains graphic injury photos.*


This looks like it's going to be Part 1 of many.

It's been a rough couple weeks for our family; lots of life changes.

One relative broke off a serious relationship, which is always tough, though this time for the best. All of that, only to be forced to interact with the ex due to the hanging death of a close friend.

My cousin, while cooking french fries on the stove, overheated the oil and rushed to the sink to run water on it. Naturally, this was a terrible idea. Oil and water do NOT mix, and when hot oil splatters, it tends to burn your skin terribly.

The following is a photo of her hand, after the fact. It is graphic.

She has a doctor's appointment this morning to remove the blisters and loose skin. She will be awake and, needless to say, this will be excruciating.

My aunt (her mother) wanted to be at the doctor's appt. this morning, and was en route to my cousin's apartment last night, when she was in a terrible car accident. A car pulled in front of her on the interstate and had no brakes. She swerved to avoid hitting him and broke her good ankle and femur (in 2 places!) in the process. She is currently hospitalized and waiting for surgery to insert a rod in her femur. Through miracles of God and science, she will be able to stand on it (after surgery) in only TWO DAYS! Her ankle, however, cannot be operated on until the swelling goes down.

In more positive life-changes news, another cousin recently got engaged! We are so thrilled for her and her fiance! Nothing brings a family together like a great wedding! Congrats!

Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers during these difficult and/or stressful times. Looks like we're going to need all we can get.

It's the most horrible time of the year

Ragweed season.

How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways...

In honor of this oh-so-freaking-special time of year, I give you this article:

http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/09/15/allergies.sex.sleep/index.html

I think it was written by Captain Obvious.

Here are my favorite quotes:

"If you can't breathe, and your nose is running, and your eyes are itchy, and you're sneezing, and you feel awful and you feel tired, you don't feel very sexy," said Dr. Michael S. Benninger, chairman of the Head and Neck Institute at the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio and a lead author of a recent study.

--This guy is a GENIUS. I wonder if it's kind of the same reason Adam finds it hard to feel sexy when he's holding in a fart. Perhaps I will conduct my OWN research to find out.

"Almost all allergy sufferers feel it impacts their sleep," Benninger said. "If you can't breathe, you're not going to sleep well."

--They had to interview 700 people to find out it's hard to sleep when you can't breathe? Whoever funded this "research project" must be PISSED!

"It can be speculated that the chronic obstruction, runny nose, sneezing and decreased smell may all result in impacting the satisfaction of sexual activity," researchers wrote in the study.

--What could be hotter than getting sprayed with snot while having sex? These people are crazy!

"If you're allergic to cats and let's assume that the bedroom is the most frequent place for intimacy and your cat lays on the pillow, and then you go in at night, and you're now sneezing -- that kind of kills it," he said.

--That's it! I don't need to watch Dr. Phil ever again; this guy's advice is too good.

Adam makes me laugh.

I guess it shouldn't surprise me when Adam says or does strange things. After all, this is the same man who eats chocolate cookies while taking a dump, and leaves me to find the crumbs and assume they're mouse turds. But I digress...


Last week we had several fantasy football drafts. I felt this was deserving of at least one fantasy football draft PARTY that *I* actually get to be involved in/invited to. The easiest way to make that happen? Have the party at our house.


I spent the day cleaning up, prepping food, hunting down all of Adam's dirty socks that Bella drug throughout the house--exciting stuff. Needless to say, I was less than pleased when Adam came home and the first thing he said when he came through the door was, "Did you even clean at all today?" Poor word choice, my dear. If you enjoy living, that is.


I got over it, and continued prepping the party food while he took a shower and got dressed.


A couple friends came over and we were having a great time drinking Smirnoff's new Limoncello (awesome AND available at County Market!). After several limoncellos, my bladder was the size of the Hoover Dam, so I headed to the bathroom. Here is what I witnessed when I sat down:







Apparently, while I was prepping the food, he went to all the bathrooms, and folded the tp, hotel style. Actually, not ALL the bathrooms, just the ones w/ public access. Then at 3 am, he got up and thought it would be funny to fold our bathroom's tp the same way, to "confuse" me.


I got a good laugh out of the deal.


I think I must be getting old, because I've noticed lately that whenever I drink, no matter the amount, I tend to have strange dreams. The night before the tp incident, long story short, I was chasing the holy grail of wine recipes (I wish!) and got to a point where the recipe was guarded by a moat full of asian carp sized silver catfish. The catfish were biting my legs horribly and I was screaming. When I woke up and told Adam about this craaaaaaaaazy dream, his first comment was: "Catfish don't have teeth!"


Even in my dreams he knows more than I do. :)

FML

I received an email last week from a concerned friend. I'll post it as close to word-for-word, because it pretty much speaks for itself.



Subj: Spotted at the Manito Subway









My reply: " I think my response is best captured with acronyms. OMG...WTF?!...LMFAO. Can I please use these?"


Her reply: "Of course you can...you know it! I cannot NOT share this with the world!!! I made (my husband) go around the block so I could take these pics and i took one with my phone to send you immediately, but it was too far away."