Monthly Archives: March 2008
Lately, once MP goes to bed, I spend most of my time online. The dishes left to sit in the sink and the pile of unfolded laundry on the couch speak to that.
I’m not one of those sexy, dating single moms, like Rachel at Single Mom Seeking, or my blogging buddy Ms. Single Mama. I still like to think I’m a Yummy Mummy in my own right, however, this self-imposed exile from the dating world means a night out for this single mama is somewhat of a rarity these days. As for nightly entertainment, when I’m not glued to the laptop, I have my shows.
Okay, that sounded pa.the.tic. At least I didn’t call them ‘my stories.’
Just keepin’ it real. Not to the extreme of highlighting TV Guide, but here’s MY idea of a good time. Give me the couch, a warm blanket, a glass of red, and I’m fully satisfied. For the time being, anyway.
Hottest Show Evah
The Tudors season premiere is tonight and I’m so excited I could pee myself.
I think this ^ speaks for itself. Decadent. Yummy.
A Straight Woman’s Guilty Pleasure
The L Word, also on Showtime. I straight up LOVE this show. I want these women to be MY friends. They’re all so interesting and complicated and hip and fun and super hot. I’m addicted to these lesbians.
Can They Really Say That On TV?!?
Two and a Half Men is the only thing that’s kept me from giving up on network TV. I don’t think I’ve watched a single episode that didn’t have me howling with laughter. Far and away, it’s the king of the one-liners. And so raunchy. Huge fan of the raunch. Normally, I would probably pass on Charlie Sheen, but holy Hell, THIS show CRACKS ME UP. I want to go have beers and play darts with the writers – and I’ll buy. It’s that good.
Some memorable lines include:
Charlie: You’re like an Alzheimer’s patient in a whorehouse, constantly surprised that you’re getting screwed.
Charlie: I’ll admit you’re kookie Judith. But compared to our mother you’re like a fart in a hurricane.
Charlie: Drugs! Get me drugs!
Alan: No. Medication will only mask the pain.
Charlie: Fine, mask it! Give it a cape and let it fight crime, I don’t give a damn!
Charlie: [making a deal with Alan while standing at a urinal] Want to shake on it?
Charlie: [Alan is supposed to have a colonoscopy, and is very worried about it] Count your blessings; in the old days, they had to send a sketch-artist up there.
Rose: When your psyche is iffy, you can’t get a stiffy.
Charlie: People who live in fat asses shouldn’t throw waffles.
Alan: You’ll go to mom’s funeral, won’t you Charlie?
Charlie: Of course! As the eldest son, it’s my duty to pound the last stake into her heart.
Alan: That’s typical, nothing for Alan to do.
Charlie: Alright, you can chop off her head and put it onto a stake for the villagers.
Alan: Thank you!
Ghost Hunters on the Sci Fi Channel – The BEST of the best. You may recall I love the ghosties … Unlike some of the other paranormal shows, I totally believe these guys. When they aren’t bustin’ spooks, they work for Roto Rooter – can’t get more grounded in reality than a plugged toilet.
Paranormal State on A&E – This one kind of creeps me out but I can’t stop watching.
Most Haunted on the Travel Channel – Totally fake, but admittedly entertaining.
I hate game shows.
I’m embarrassed to say, for some reason, this one has me addicted. And Howie’s one of my OCD peeps, so how could I NOT like it? (Just in case some of you didn’t know, that’s why he never shakes hands. Apparently, contestants are instructed before the show that, with the exception of the knuckle pound, there’s to be NO physical contact. I’m not that bad.) Plus, it’s one show I don’t feel guilty watching with MP. We guess case numbers together and she learns the difference between one dollar and one million dollars. Educational, right?
My money’s on David Cook. Who cares if I’m 15 years older? When he sings, he makes me want to serve breakfast in bed.
The temp’s hit the high 30s! Good thing, because MP and I were beginning to go a little stir crazy waiting for spring to arrive.
Armed with ball and bunny, we followed the cries of a baby osprey (osprey or hawk — I should know by now, but still can never tell) to a large tree by the river. We watched as it hopped out of the nest, it’s screams demanding the attention of Mama Bird circling protectively overhead. (Wait. Something’s familiar here …) I’m afraid we probably made it a bit nervous. He wasn’t the only one. I kept expecting to be dive-bombed any moment.
Earlier, we watched a group of adult ospreys (or hawks) above an adjacent field, each zeroing in on the unlucky gopher that was to be dinner. This little guy was surely waiting for his meal. Really beautiful.
We continued down the road to the Big Happy Giant’s campfire site, always a source of fascination. (The “Big Happy” part is vital – without it, the fairy tale gets a little too scary.) See how the grass is flattened around the perimeter? That’s where he sleeps at night when he’s done roasting marshmallows — close to the fire, to keep warm. At daybreak, he makes his way back to the mountains before being seen.
After much dusty ball kicking, and a final visit to her ‘Thinking Rock’ (she came up with that one herself — that’s it below), it was time to hang up the boots and call it a day. Tired, hungry, and a leeetle crabby, clearly, it was dinner time.
Fortunately, something better than gophers.
I have Sciatica.
I’m sure of it. A freakish, nagging, nearly unbearable pain running down the back of my thigh.
SCIATICA \si-‘a-ti-ka\, noun
Pain along the course of a sciatic nerve especially in the back of the thigh
At some point in my 39 years, I acquired this knowledge and stored it in the Hypochondriac Vault to join vast amounts of other useful medical nuggets. I opened the vault this morning in the shower. And then, naturally, made sure to do a little hedge trimming in the event I had to be rushed to the ER today with a sciatical emergency. As soon as I got to work, I looked it up.
According to my boyfriend WebMD:
Sciatica is a common type of pain affecting the sciatic nerve, a large nerve extending from the lower back down the back of each leg.
Pain in the rear or leg that is worse when sitting. Maybe?
Burning or tingling down the leg. Check.
Weakness, numbness or difficulty moving the leg or foot. No …
A constant pain on one side of the rear. Yeah. My power bill.
A shooting pain that makes it difficult to stand up. No …
So, DEFINITELY one symptom.
What Causes Sciatica?
Pregnancy. Not applicable, unless God has a second immaculate conception in the works and forgot to tell me.
Irritation of the root(s) of the lower lumbar and lumbosacral spine
Lumbar spinal stenosis (narrowing of the spinal canal in the lower back)
Degenerative disc disease
Spondylolisthesis (a condition in which one vertebra slips forward over another one)
So, we know I have a bad back. And posture rivaling Quasimodo’s. I totally have Sciatica.
Textbook case. Either that or the pain is actually a blood clot that will eventually travel to my lung, resulting in a pulmonary embolism (PE in doctorese) and sudden death.
And my boyfriend’s best advice? Seek immediate medical attention with any symptoms of progressive lower extremity weakness and/or loss of bladder or bowel control. I may just have to dump him. Because everyone knows AG’s my main man anyway.
Damn. All this time, I’m working my ass off here in the snow entrenched mountains, I had no idea I should be retired and living it up in Florida, reaping the benefits of my AARP membership. And wearing socks with sandals.
Original images borrowed from these guys. And these guys.
Bjork is a space alien.
And, tell me please, how is Carson Daly STILL on the air? Inquiring minds want to know.
Image borrowed from these guys.
Last Friday, after gymnastics, MP and I went out to lunch with her BFF Gigi and Gigi’s mom (also my friend).
We went to the usual place. It had changed a bit over the past few weeks.
At this point, I’m wondering what planet we’ve landed on.
Here’s MP enjoying the leather couch. Note the perilously perched sculpture just begging to be tipped over. I give it two months.
You gotta be freakin’ kidding.
Yeah Baby. My McDonald’s has a leather couch.
Apparently Ronald’s had a little work done. Classin’ the joint up.
Where’s the red and yellow decor? The adjoining plastic booths that rock and jar when customers shift in their seats behind you? Where’s my Mickie D’s? What’s the world coming to?
The McDonald’s of my adolescence was THE place to go weekend nights. Situated on the outermost corner of a large shopping center parking lot, it served as a roundabout for Saturday Night Main St. Cruisers. Countless summer nights were spent on that hot pavement, bounding barefoot from car to car. Looking back, I realize our idea of entertainment reflected just how untouched by the world-at-large we really were.
It was wonderful.
We interrupt this post to puke.
How very Happy Days, MommyPie.
I especially like the part where you fail to mention the ginormous amount of B&J Wine Coolers consumed on those hot summer nights. Mmm hmm. Continue.
It didn’t last.
Time marches on, without so much as a backward glance at those carefree summer nights that have, now without a doubt, been forever relegated to the collective memory of the class of ’86.
And now … we have leather.
Here’s a corner in the new, upscale PlayLand area — that’s Gigi’s mom relaxing in the conversation pit. As I sat down in the leather chair beside her, I couldn’t help but pity the poor shmos who were going to have to dig smashed fries and caramel goo out of its cracks.
At least the foliage is still fake.
And the piece de resistance?
The lovely water feature highlighting the trash receptacles.
It just ain’t right.
9:15 a.m. Conversation in the Car
MP: My feet are tired.
Me: My eyes are tired. Hey, make sure you take a nap at school today, okay?
MP: Okay. You should take a nap at work.
Me: I wish I could. My boss doesn’t let me take naps at work.
MP: WHAT?!? Well, you have to tell him YOU’RE the boss!
Me: Well, I’m the boss at home, but he’s the boss at work.
MP: You’ll just have to take a nap when we get home.
Me: Sounds good to me.
MP: ‘Cause he doesn’t know where you live.
MP: Pretty sneaky Mom.
Me: I try.
My brother thinks it hilarious to give MP loud toys that scream UGLY and take up valuable real estate inside my house.
My dad (aka Bobo) thought he’d get in on the fun with this little gem.
Because who wouldn’t want a giant Rainbow Trout?
(Okay, I have to admit I’m not 100 percent sure this was a joke – there’s a good chance he may have sincerely thought this was cool. In which case … I still hate it.)
Which is why I was elated to find THIS on clearance for just $12.99 (regularly $57.99).
I like to call it … Sweet Revenge.
Come September when my nephew turns two, I may actually have to fly back to the city just to see my brother’s face when Auntie MommyPie’s gift is unveiled. I’m sitting here giggling, I’m so excited.
Adding to the perfection is that it’s going to irritate him so much more than it would me. Because I actually think the rocket’s kind of cute, whereas he’ll HATE it. This should fit beautifully in his Victorian dining room.
With five more months left to shop, by the time I’m done with it, that house is gonna look like the Hoober Bloob Highway, Baby.
Welcome to parenthood, Sucka.