Caffeine Free

People Falling = Funny

2009-08-24T16:29:00.002-04:00

I fall all the time, so I can say this.

Falling people is one of the funniest things. My first instinct is to laugh and then I ask if the person is alright.

This past week I fell. Again.

I was walking with a friend, coffee in hand, not paying attention. One wrong step and I went down like 200 pounds. (Don't judge me. I'm trying to lose it.)

Mo, my friend, who was walking beside me, coffee in hand, immediately bent over and asked if I was ok. I was grateful for this, since I hadn't heard a laugh from her lips yet, but what I did hear not two seconds after she asked if I was ok, and well before I answered her, was, "Oh no, your coffee!"

Mo, with her mongoose-like reflexes dove for the coffee and saves two thirds of it. Alright, Mo! I was afterall quite in need of caffeine.

This same week, a group of people were made to compete in an Izzy Dizzy relay race. To my disappointment, no one fell. Sure some were running around like chickens without heads, but not one spill. Not one fat girl or boy face down in the grass. Admit it. Fat people falling is even funnier than fit people falling.

What's even more funny, is when you see someone truly annoying fall down. This also happened last week. It was an eventful week. Don't be jealous that I got to laugh much more than you did.
I'm not entirely fond of this person, who you can always count on as someone who is trying to garner attention to herself. Well, she got it, by falling pretty hard on her back and head last week. It was not just your usual spill. She happened to be running bare footed on a tile floor that was covered in water from a fresh spill. Well, her feet went up in the air, probably a good two to three feet and she landed on her back and her head hit the linolium tile floor. As much as I can't stand her, I was one of the first people by her side. Not because I was laughing, but because it looked like a scary fall that could have seriously hurt her, which I wouldn't wish on ayone... Ok, that's not true. I wouldn't wish it on many.

I didn't laugh at her then, but since she was given a clean bill of healthy by the nursing staff, and still milked it for the next couple of days and then continued to try to get all the attention at the end of the week, I am laughing. I am laughing in her general direction.

Ah, good times. (And I'm not even going to proof read this.)

File This One Under... WTF?

2009-07-28T10:54:00.006-04:00

On Sunday my husband did me a favor.

Wait, a favor? Can I really call it a favor? Okay, you decide if this is a favor or not.

He said, "Honey since I know you want to clean the dining room and livingroom, and mop the floors, I was thinking I would take Merrick to my brother's house early and you can meet us there later."

Important note: I don't recall implying in any way, shape, or form that I wanted to clean anything. In fact, anyone who knows me, knows that I don't want to clean. Ever.

A real favor would have been if he had said, "Honey, I know you're not feeling well (which I'm not), so why don't I take Merrick early while you soak it up in the tub and have a relaxing afternoon?"

So after I cleaned the living and dining rooms and yes, mopped the floors I took a shower, (not a relaxing soak in the tub) and headed out to my brother-in-law's house for our Sunday ritual of a four-hour Portuguese Sunday dinner of loud talking, half English, half Portugues sentences, and translations for me. As I got into the car I noticed that it was drzzling ever so slightly. As I got onto Rt. 80 East, I noticed that it was drizzling less slightly. As I pulled into Kearny, it was now raining prety good.

Merrick was happy to see me. So happy, he greeted me with a dirty diaper. So I took him upstairs to change it. In the middle of this duty (not doodie), I realized that the wind had really picked up. I could hear tree branches hitting the ground and the 100 foot tall trees that lined Tony's street were responding angrily. Just as I finished pulling up Merrick's pants, he and I both were startled by a loud crash and scraping noise.

WTF!

Tony and Joe were yelling for us to come downstairs because a tree had came down on the roof. Or so they thought.

Literally, just as the tree had come down, the rain stopped and the sun was blaring. You could not see out of any window at the back of the house. All were obstructed by leaves.

WTF.

When we went to the kitchen door, leading to the deck... There was no deck. Only tree.

WTF.

Ok, so Tony was obviously getting his wish. He had just remarked the other day how he wnated to put on a new deck. Bonus!

We went outside the front door and walked up the driveway, but we couldn't see into the backyard. We could only see tree. A neighbor from four or five houses down, came running over asking if everyone was ok. We all were fine.

"It's terrible about your car," he said.

WTF?

"Why," asked Tony.

"It's crushed. I watched it happen."

After walking through the other neighbor's yard, we could see that Tony's baby, his Ford Explorer, that he just put new tires on, and 20 minutes earlier, my hubby put a new headlight bulb in, was in fact crushed.

WTF.

I love many things about this story. The fact that it did not really damage the house (sans the deck). The fact that no one was sitting on the deck as we often do on Sundays. The fact that Joe didn't wait a half an hour longer to install the headlight bulb.

But what I love the most is Tony. He lost his deck and truck, and all he could say was, "I never thought the Explorer would go out that way."

The Shit Hit Everything

2009-07-28T10:41:00.002-04:00

I want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, while driving back from a long day of site seeing at Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, my son had an ass explosion. Here's how it went down.

This past week I had my niece and nephew on vacation with me. We took a series of day trips each day. We didn't have any misshaps. Well, maybe just this one.

On Wednesday, we went to the Statue of Liberty. Let me tell you something too. We waited on line for ever to get into the monument, in what felt like 90 degree heat. Veronica was content, My mom, who came along sat with Merrick in the shade while we went in and up, and my nephew Gabriel wanted to do anything but stand on line. Anything amounted to throwing rocks, nagging his sister, sitting in the dirt with a sour look on his face, and hiding behind trees so I would think he ran off somewhere. It got old quick. Anyhow, after standing on line forever, we finally got into the museumy part of the monument. Not much to look at. Then we went in to the second observation deck. It was a hell of a lot of stairs to climb, especially for someone who put on 55 lbs during her pregnancy. I am down 14 pounds, just so you know. The view was alright, but I don't think I really needed to take the time to walk up all those stairs, almost have a stroke, and see what looked like a pretty ordinary view. My point is... yes I have one... I would have been better off just walking around the Statue of Liberty.

Anyhow, a day trip that we thought would take four or five hours, turned into about a 6 or 7 hour trip. We did have to stop at Ellis Island afterall.

On the way home, I heard the unmistakable sound of a pooping 7-month old.

Uggghhh. Ugggghhh.

"Is that Merrick pooping," I asked my niece and nephew.

"Smells like it. His face is getting red."

And then someone who doesn't really believe in the jinx, feels like she may have jinxed herself. Or rather, everyone in the car.

I said, "I sure hope he doesn't overflow the diaper."

About half of a Lady Gaga (Shes always on the radio) song later, Veronica started crying out, "He pooped. He pooped. It's on my hand. Help me!" Veronica is a prissy little girl, who is into clothes and pink, so you can imagine the shrieking.

I'm driving the car, so I can't turn around and see it for myself, so I arrange the rear view mirror so I could see what was going on. There's Veronica to the right of the car seat, shrieking with her poop filled hand in the air, crying for help. Ahh, if it were a very cold day, it might have even been steaming. That would have made it funnier. Then came the smell. Gabriel was pushed up against the left door of the car, trying to keep as far away as possible from the smell and I suppose, Veronica's hand.

My mom is in the passanger side seat, and she turns around to get a better look and lend a hand. Thank God for mommies.

"Is that the pacifier between his legs on the seat," I wonder aloud.

Mom pulls out the pacifier, which is of course covered in shit.

Now, I'm laughing. My mom grabs the wipes from the diaper bag and begins to clean off the pacifier (as though I'm going to put it in Merrick's mouth after this episode). Veronica is begging for her to clean her hand instead, which mom obliges. She cleans up Merrick's legs as best she can, so Merrick won't put his hands in the poop and then continues to sit facing the back seat so she can prevent him from causing any more chaos.

We roll down the windows. The kids faces are out of them, while I exit Rt. 280 into Harrison, where my parents live. It was a good thing we were close. The whole time I am hysterical, but also wondering if the suede car seat cover is machine washable. It's got to be, right?

When we arrive, I have to park down the street from their house. Parking is a bitch in Harrison. I put the Statue of Liberty merchandise bag on my arm, plop Merrick's smelly, sloppy ass into it, and carry him up the street to mom and dad's where there was a kitchen sink and spray hose with his name all over it.

And that my friends, was some funny shit. Sorry. I couldn't help saying so.

I've Gone Ahead And Done It

2009-03-31T00:14:00.001-04:00

I've done it. I've gone ahead and started a motherhood blog. It will of course be unlike this one. Most of the content will be "appropriate."

http://new2mommyhood.blogspot.com/

Anyway, you may choose to read this one or not. But if you do, please comment. It makes me feel very special.

Hrrrmph! He's Going to Say No!

2009-03-29T23:59:00.002-04:00

So my husband and I asked his brother Tony to be Godfather to our son. He hasn't had any other sacrement other than baptism, so he didn't think he would be allowed by the Catholic Church. I spoke with Father George and it turns out he would be allowed, as long as the other Godparent has them, which she does. Tonight, we explained that to him and he still didn't get a straight yes or no answer, but before we were leaving, I brought it up and he just made a noise.

An, "eeehhhh" noise.

Joe said, "You need another week to think about it." (Which angered me a bit because he already had a week to think about it, so why not have an answer ready for us? We're baptising him in four weeks. Invitations are going out tomorrow or the next day. Family members are going to ask who the godparents are, and we don't have a clue? That sucks.)

It's clear that he is going to say no.

Maybe I shouldn't be bummed, but I am. In fact, I feel quite heart-broken about it.

When Babies Attack!

2009-03-16T14:27:00.007-04:00

First He lures in the monkey.

"Lets be Best Friends Forever," he suggests with his baby good looks and a twinkle in his eye.

"Sure," says the money, unaware of the danger he's putting himself in.

"Let me just put my arm around you, since we're now BFF," says the baby.

All was calm and serene. The monkey had no idea that the baby began to open his mouth. The baby looked at his mother, as if to ask, "Should I?"

Just as the mommy began to warn the monkey, the baby attacked, ferociously gumming the monkey's head.

But don't worry. Mommy was able to make it all better with the help of a wet nap and a sterile band aid.

No monkeys were harmed in the making of this photo-shoot, however I did get a thumb cramp.

Look Into My Evil Eye

2009-03-14T21:52:00.004-04:00

First let me say this.

"Hello Gorgeous."

Not you. I'm referring to this blog, which I have, for too long, ignored. I know there could be no excuse that will make my trusty companion (blogger) forgive me, but I must say that being a new mommy did take precedence over almost everything else. Anyhow, now that the lil' guy sleeps through the night (at only 3 months I might add) I have some more time to myself and to this blog at night. And I really have to thank my friend Andrea who called me recently and told me the following story, because it gives me something to write about other than my son.

So here it goes.

I was driving home from work about a week ago, and Andrea called me. We chatted about odds and ends until she suddenly started whispering.

"Ok, I have to tell you what 's going on with my sister-in-law," she said.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because I don't want Barry to hear."

She has a point. Even though Barry thinks his sister is a bit loony, or perhaps he would use the term "sheltered," he might not appreciate others criticising her for being as such. For example, my husband does not quite like my sister. And I don't mean how most husbands dislike their sisters-in-law. He genuinely does not like her. He will occasionally make a comment and I sometimes have to remind him that it's ok for me to make those same comments, but I don't always want to hear them from him. (Only sometimes)

So, the whispered story continues...

She goes on to tell me that her sister-in-law thinks that someone has put the "evil eye" on her... Over the Internet.

You read correctly. Over the Internet.

Immediately I started to laugh. I don't know if I was laughing because it was really funny, or because anything other than my son's tooting deserves a hearty chuckle. So laugh, I did. For quite a few moments, and then I asked, "What the hell is the evil eye really?" I've heard the term a lot. I know some Italians. Let's put it that way. But, I don't really know how one gets the evil eye put on them or why.

So she explained it and I also did some independent research (since I have so much free time). What I learned is that the Evil Eye has been around "since the beginning of time," said one website. Does this mean that Adam gave Eve the Evil Eye? Because if there was any eye I would be convinced that Adam gave Eve, it was Pirate. I digress. Depending on who you ask, the Evil Eye is actually a compliment. If someone is looking at you enviously, they could send negative energy to you by way of the "third eye" that we all may or may not posses in the middle of our foreheads. (No wonder bangs are back!) Last I checked, I did not have this trait, but I've been wrong before. The evil eye is an unfriendly, indifferent or even blank gaze that just lasts a little too long. If you've seen Juno, then you might refer to this as The Stink Eye, not the evil eye. Anyway, after someone has given you the evil eye, you might find yourself thinking about that person shortly after and for most, if not all day long. Bad fortune is supposed to follow.

In Andrea's sister-in-law's case, she claims to have had weird dreams as a result of this Internet delivered evil eye. I, of course asked which site's she's been on because I'd like to avoid the stink eye myself. Andrea said she goes on social chat sites and believes that someone she might have chatted with put this eye on her. Hmmm. Ok. So this dumb bitch goes to see a priest, tells him her story; which by the way involves dreams of of someone on top of her in bed, and chasing her, or some shit like that. Given that she is so sheltered and basically has no life, I would think she would enjoy such a dream. What what do I know?

So Father So-and-So basically tells her that she's crazy. She must have something on her mind in order to have the dreams (yeah like hoping to one day get laid).

Other things I've learned about the Evil Eye are:
1. In Italy, it is believed that the Evil Eye can cause impotence. It dries up the semen. However a man can ward this off my making the Mano Cornuto symbol with his hand. Perhaps Dane Cook's Super Finger is for impotence as well. I dunno.

2. Jews may spit three times or say "peh-peh-peh", throw salt, or mutter "kein ayin hara" ("no evil eye") when they feel threatened by the evil eye.

3. You can buy amulets or other trinkets that will ward off the Evil Eye. In fact, I found a great Website called Evil Eye Store, where I think Andrea's sister in law can find the help that the priest was not able to provide. Perhaps Andrea should do her Christmas shopping on this site.

Well, that's it for now. I'm going to now go to Facebook and look just a little too long and enviously at some of my "friends" pictures. (Mua-Mua-Muah! Ah! Ah!)

Letters to The Men in My Life

2009-01-13T14:34:00.002-05:00

Dear Husband,

Happy Anniversary, dear.

For three years you've called me wife and I've called you husband, hubby, lovey... and most affectionately... "round head." Well, your head is quite round. While I was pregnant, you called me, "Round Belly," and I think now that I am no longer carrying a child, you should refrain from this errr, endearment.

This morning as I was finishing up the task of changing your son's diaper, I walked out of his room and past the bathroom, noticing something quite disturbing. One wet towel, a pair of boxers and one pair of shorts. You left your laundry on the floor again... right next to a rather empty hamper. We're been living together in what I can only call, ALMOST paradise for five wonderous years now. In that time, I can only imagine that I have told you a hundred or so times that of all the things you could possibly do, leaving laundry on the bathroom floor is the only thing that causes me to become enraged. (Wait, enraged? Is that too much? No! It's not too much. Because after five years, it's gone from, "Gee, that's annoying," to "PLEASE stop doing that," and finally to, "Motivator, please take care of this habit of yours before I cut off your balls and feed them to you.")

Anyhow, I thought you should know that you did it again, and I can only assume that you think it's funny. You probably think I've been kidding all these years, that I actually lovingly look at your laundry every morning on the bathroom floor and think of how lucky I am to be able to pick these articles of dirty clothing up for you.

Well, I'd like to reiterate to you today, on our anniversary... that I don't. And in case I didn't make myself clear, let me tell you that I will cut off your balls and feed them to you for dinner tonight if you don't start picking up after yourself in the mornings.

Whew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now we can celebrate our marital bliss.

Your Loving Wife,
Sheri

Dear Son,

Please learn from yoru father's mistakes of you will one day meet the same fate.

Oh, and that was a very good poopie this morning. I'm so proud of you!

Your Loving Mommy.

Since Enquiring Minds Want to Know...

2009-01-07T12:34:00.004-05:00

I've been too occupied to post anything on the blog for some time now. See, I've been hanging out with a really cute guy. He's about 22 inches tall and weighs in now at about ten pounds. Oh, and he's a real cry baby too!

On Dec. 3, 2008 Merrick Alfredo was born, weighing in at a surprising 7 pounds and four ounces (surpising because we expected a large baby). Ten little fingers and ten little toes! He's absolutely perfect in every way.

I suppose as time goes on and I adjust to being a mommy, I will have more time to write about the adventures of mommy-hood and what not, but for now... here's a picture of my little man!

Not Exactly Out of The Water

2008-09-29T16:18:00.002-04:00

My brother called me this morning to let me know that he's being reactiviated to the Marines, and will be deployed to either Afghanistan or Iraq. I was devastated to say the least, but as he was telling me the story I was optimistic as much as I could be for him on the phone. Of course as usual, I'm getting this information first and he doesn't want me to say anything to my parents or anyone else. I guess he wants to break the news to my parents in person. This is just going to devastate both my parents and might possibly put my dad of an edge of something. Dad's on a pretty nasty medication right now that causes depression and to be honest, when my brother was deployed the last two times, Dad didn't need this medication to be depressed.

My brother is not a happy kid right now. He's got a gret job as an EMT and a state-side first responded, and he's living with his girlfriend - They've been looking for a new place. He took the policeman's test and is awaiting the results of that. Things were going really well for him, and now this. He said if he had gotten these orders a year and a half ago he would have been fine with it, but today, after two years of being inactive, with two years to go, he is very disappointed.

He is to ship to Missouri on the 19th of this month, and then from there I guess he'll be retrained and deployed, for what he said could be 15 to 19 months. What a kick in the pants! That's longer than his other two deployments which were 6-8 months each.

I told him that this is what he signed up for, and that he'll have to do his duty, but I also understood that it doesn't make the situation suck any less. Of course that was strong Sheri on the phone. As soon as I hung up with him, I was immediately in tears. I really don't want him to go. I want my little brother to be home and safe.

Motivator, Please!

2008-09-24T10:41:00.004-04:00

The other night Joe and I were watching... Are you ready for this? We were watching Resident Evil: Apocalypse. This movie is so bad... It's almost as bad a Rawhead Rex. If you've ever seen Rawhead, you know what I'm talking about. Oh yeah, we were that bored.

Wait. it gets better. We were watching it on one of those other channels. I only ever watch HBO, Channel 5, or whatever channel the Mets or Devils are on, so all other channels I refer to as "those other channels."

So... instead saying, "Mother Fucker, please," The ghetto-tastic black man in the movie said, "Motivator, please."

Joe and I have been saying it for days. It's the new "Dude," or "Whatever."

Feel free to join in.

Husbands Fears Rips Me From "The Zone."

2008-09-23T14:56:00.006-04:00

This blog would sound so much more fun if I was telling it with a cute little Bridget Jone's Diary accent, but I'm not so here it goes anyway...

Last night we were doing it.

Oh yeah, it's a big deal, you see, on account of me being 6 1/2 months pregnant. We don't do it often. I'm usually tired or afraid I'll pee all over him in the middle of the deed, that it usually doesn't get around to happening.

However I am proud to say that last night Joe and I were engaged in intercourse for the second time in about two weeks. (That sounds so clinical)

We're running through two of the safer positions in our treasure trove as Joe is careful not to squeeze my nipples, which by the way are so big, dark and taunt that they are begging to be squeezed. We heard that squeezing the nipples can release the hormone oxytocin which can induce labor.

So...

We're on the side, I'm on top, we're on the side, I'm on top again... And there I was... In the zone. You know the one. The Oh my God, I'm going to come if I can just keep up this rhythm without pulling a hammy zone, when all of a sudden, Joe says, "Honey, get on your side... You're making me nervous."

"What? Do you think I'm going to crush the baby?"

"Well, yeah if you do it that way!"

I will spare you the "that way" description as you might be eating and reading at the same time and I'm sure you've already had a clear picture of my cats at the foot of our bed covering their innocent lil' eyes with their paws.

So... as I was saying, we're on the side...

We finish up rather nicely and I turn around to ask Joe just how he thought it was going to hurt the baby, and even though he didn't have a very good reason, I could tell we were down to ONE safe position for the remainder of the pregnancy.

One More Time... Reeeal Slooowwwww.

2008-09-23T14:55:00.000-04:00

Not 15 days ago I blogged about how fast my pregnancy seemed to be going. I was lamenting at how I was in double digits to the birth. That was when there was only 95 days left. Today there are 80. Well actually I did the math and realize my counter is a bit off. There's 78 days until the "due date."

I can't help but feel that time has now slowed down to a snail's pace. Maybe it's because I feel more ready than ever to have the baby. (I could be crying a different tune when the contractions start). It seems like so long ago that I was complaining how quickly it went, when in actuality, it was a mere two weeks ago.

I know I should not be rushing. Afterall, there is so much to do at work before maternity leave. I'm working on a really big project and I have to have three big events planned before I leave. There's plenty to do to occupy my time and keep me busy while I wait to pop out this kid... but why can't I give birth tomorrow?

I think I know what's going on here. I've had a relatively easy 6 months. Now, at the 6 1/2 month mark, I am starting to feel pregnant. My belly is getting pretty damn heavy. When I get up too quickly from the sofa or whatever I'm sitting or laying on, I have a weird sense that I am actually crushing my baby in my rush of motion. I can feel when his head or perhaps rolled up body is in a certain place or at a certain inconvenient angle.

I have heart burn. Oh boy, do I have heart burn. I haven't decided to modify my eating habits though based on the fire burning in my chest. Last night I made curry chicken for dinner. My husband walked in the house, smelled the curry, and just shook his head at me.

"You're a masochist," he said.

"You're just learning this now," I asked.

Damn, it was good... Being as though my giant uterus is pushing my stomach up into my rib cage, I got heart burn pretty bad last night. Nothing four Tums didn't take care of though.
Today I took a walk from my office to my bank, which is about five blocks from where I work. I decided to take the walk at a busy pace, afterall, I do need the exercise. I ran into one of my employees (someone who knows a little bit about kids, since she has three).

"Waddling up the street kind of fast for a pregnant lady, aren't you," she asked.

I blew her off. C'mon, it's not going to kill me.

The five blocks to the bank went smashingly. The five blocks back? Not so much. It was a real task for me to get back to the building. By the third block back I was walking so slow and I could have sworn I was limping a little. For some reason my left leg was a bit cramped. I wasn't out of breath as much as out of energy.

The fact that I get no sleep doesn't help much. Joe has started to hint that I keep him up, which he's been really good at not doing in the first and second trimesters. This trimester is completely different though. My trips to the bathroom at twenty times more frequent, and my tossing and turning is non-stop. Oh... and is it just me, or is hotter than Africa in our bedroom at night? Oh yeah. It is me. Joe keeps saying, "It's not the room, it's your hot flashes." This makes me laugh because he has no idea what he's talking about. They're not hot flashes. I'm not 60 years old.

So yeah... I'm feeling the effects of the third trimester and the fact that time is going by so slow now makes the effects seem worse I guess. Alas, I'm still not one to complain to anyone... just err, I just write about it all here instead.

Why I Love and Loathe My Husband.

2008-09-18T11:27:00.000-04:00

For the past six months, I have been getting bigger and bigger. More swollen and swollen. More anxious and anxious. But, the one thing I haven't gotten is bitchy or emotional.

Last night, I was feeling very unprepared. Sure, Joe's working on the nursery, but then he drops the bomb on me that my mother-in-law or sister-in-law may want to come stay for a week after the baby is born. That means my house needs to be pretty damn presentable. I'm a pregnant lady who still works two jobs. When am I going to get the house presentable? I was wigging out about it. I know I was only really wigging out that much because I was a little hormonal, which by the way is the first time in 6 months that I've used that as an excuse for being upset about anything. I'm sure a majority of pregnant chicks pull the hormonal card all the time.

So, I decided to tackle the dining room table, which is piled high with stacks of papers (most of it crap) that I needed to get out of the guest room... because I hear now that we may have visitors. So, there I was shredding papers, and throwing the blank envelopes into a trash bag, when Joe asked, "What are you doing with the envelopes and things you aren't shredding?"

Ok, take a deep breathe and answer him. You know what his response will be, but try to be nice...

"I'm throwing them in the trash," I said and held my breathe waiting for the inevitable comment, which came not two seconds later.

"Do you want us to get fined? We have to recycle all that stuff."

My husband is the only person I know that will recycle an empty envelope. I'm not kidding. He bundles all of this shit in his spare time... But alas, he has no spare time, so the shit sits around the house for months. I kid you not. MONTHS! It drives me crazy. Who the frig is going to go through our black garbage bag and be appalled that I threw a blank envelope out and demand that we are fined?

"I am not recycling that crap, honey. You're lucky I'm shredding this stuff," I said through clentched teeth. "I just want to get it done, and this is how it's going to get done. Don't start with me about it - Please."

Apparently, he didn't realize that I was hormonal. (Again, not that I would have admitted to it.) So, he didn't expect me to be so curt.

"Why are you getting pissed off about something so small," he asked.

Something so small? There's a ton of shit around the house that needs to get done. I'm in a nesting mode that I can't do much about because he won't let me do half the shit that needs to get done because of my so-called delicate condition... and here I am doing the one thing I can do... sit, go through junk paperwork, clean off the dining room table so I can take back the eating area from the clutter, and he gives me shit because I'm not recycling blank envelopes! At that moment in time, it was a huge deal to me. I was suddenly feeling productive and better about the whole situation and he pisses in my Corn Flakes? I couldn't have that.

So, yeah I was pissed off.

"Look, just take it all out of the trash bag and pile it on the table, and I'll take care of it later," he said.

Take it back out of the trash and pile it back on the table?

So, here I am insiting that he stops watching the Mets, who were fucking losing to the Nationals, which is like losing to the Bad News Bears, and go downstairs to do some laundry while I took his precious recyclable paper out of the trash bag for him to bundle weeks later, only after I've blown my lid that he hasn't done it yet.

So as I was listening to the hum of the washer downstairs and Joe cleaning the litter box, I am getting teary eyed as I pull blank empty envelopes, coupons, old greeting cards (anything made from a tree, people) out of the trash bag and pile them on the same table I just felt productive about getting them off of. But, at the same time, I'm giggling to myself because it's utterly rediculous to be teary eyed over this small occurance.

So yeah, I was having a moment and Joe just wouldn't let me get away with it. I admire him for that to a degree. But part of me hates him for it as well. LOL.

Think About The Children?

2008-09-08T22:37:00.002-04:00

I hate solicitation calls. I should have put our number on the Do Not Call List, but I never did. I hope it's not too late.

Today however, I received a solicitation call that I wish I had not hung up on.

It came from a Star Ledger sales rep. It went like this.

Me: "Hello"

SL: "Hi Ma'm, my name is XX from the Star Ledger. I'm calling you tonight because I've been authorized to offer you delivery of the Sunday paper for just $1.99."

Me: "We're not interested."

SL: "The Sunday paper for $1.99 is a great deal. How can you not be interested, ma'am?"

Me: "Well sorry, but we're just not interested. You have a nice night though."

SL: "But Ma'am, think about the children."

Me: "Goodbye." - click!

So, yeah I hung up the phone. But his last comment of, "Ma'am think about the children," is truly haunting me. What did he mean by that? I can't stop giggling and repeating the line. I've been scratching my head all night. I'd like to go to the Star Ledger website to see if there's a special fundraiser they're doing.

Where was he going with that statement? Was he about to tell me that the $1.99 Star Ledger was going to support starving children in some third world country? Was it going to go toward Christmas presents for children whose parents are serving in Iraq or orphans? I'm definitely stumped.

Damn, I wish he would call back.

Political Blog

2008-08-29T12:14:00.000-04:00

This blog post is not about my burgeoning belly, cankles, or even sex toys. I know. It's a little weird for you to grasp… but I'm going to blog politics this morning. Nothing too deep, as if poltical science gets deep.

Last night as I watched Obama's historic nomination acceptance speech I was of course proud of the milestone of an African American man accepting the nomination for President. His speech was well written and delivered, even if it did have a quite a few fantasies embedded. It's a good thing for democrats, that Americans can be quite dumb and emotional. Tax breaks for 95% Americas? Great! (How will he pay for this, I wonder, when he's also ensuring that he will take away tax breaks and incentive from big bad corporations. The same corporations, I might add that employ those Americans. Sure, they'll get a tax break, but they'll also get a salary and/or benefit break, won't they.) Don't get me started.

Then he boosts about the number of job increases in America under Clinton. (Well sure… the Government hired them all. So let's see under Clinton, Government only got bigger, as well as the bill for Government pensions. And I thought we wanted less government and less cost of running Government. We should be talking about big bad government... not big bad corporations.)
Oh… and he also promised to release America of our dependency on foreign oil in ten years? That's not a very long time, pal. Just how does he intend to maneuver this through a divided congress or senate in enough time to fulfill this lofty promise?

I think I liked Obama better before he said he would do anything, and just chanted "Yes, we Can," because all I could think of last night, was how "he most likely can't" but he looked and sounded good, with the very presedential backdrop to his speech.

The best part of the speech was of course when he talked about Americans elisted and how they are fighting for not just red, not just blue… but red, white and blue. I did like the "Eight is Enough" tag line he coined. Give his speech writer another cookie today.

Now… onto the smart parts of Obama's speech last night. He took some pretty good jabs at McCain. (For the record, I'm not a big McCain fan. I think he is the wrong choice for the nomination. I was totally in Romney's corner.) Why was this smart? Well, now McCain, despite any speech he may have prepared or message he wanted to get across during his own nomination acceptance speech at next week's Republic convention, he will now be on the defensive, and no one ever looks good on the defensive.

But the old guy had a trick up his sleeve didn't he? I said last night to my hubby, that I thought McCain would have to do something soon to gat people talking.. and he did. Not only did he announce his running mate the very next morning, but his running mate is a woman. No one is talking about Obama and his speech anymore! Hype that should have gone on for days has been pretty much fizzled, but McCain's announcement.

And who is she? Someone who brings youthfulness to his ticket and that freshness that Obama brings to his. Sarah Palin is a virtual unknown out of Alaska, which is a bit scary, but I'll tell you what I do like about her.

She's a businesswoman. We need business savvy in the Whitehouse. She also defeated an incumbent for Gov. of Alaska, which shows that she is a winner. It's never easy to defeat an incumbent unless you've really got something good to offer. She's a Governor! Not a senator or congressman! She has experience running an administration from the top! The other thing I like about her, is she has a proven track record of trying to remove America from dependency on foreign oil. Something Obama is promising… She's already doing. She was able to get the construction of a 1700 mile pipeline approved between Alaska and Canada for natural gas. It will be the biggest construction project in Northern America to ever get done! That's impressive anyway you slice it!

Do I know anything else about her, aside from her having five children, pretty varied in age? Nope. But I'm definitely going to watch this one closely.

I kept joking that McCain should pick Condi Rice as a running mate because he would then have an African American and a woman on his ticket. As much as I am against women voting for someone people they are a woman, I believe that McCain just got a feather in his cap amongst women-voters.

Smart! Very smart!

Fat and Happy As an Ox!

2008-08-08T14:31:00.001-04:00

I never knew, nor do I today, where the expression, "Healthy as an ox" came from. Anyone? Anyone?

Anyhow, four weeks ago the vampire at my doctor's office took 7 vials of blood to run a bunch of tests. Over 90 different ailments are tested for including STDs... and I am happy to say I am ailment free. Woo Hoo. This means I can have a regular ole' vaginal birth!

I didn't know this but if you have certain ailments... particularly an STD like herpes, you are automatically scheduled for a C-Section. It's good to know I am herpes free! LOL. Alert the World!

They also test for other conditions, which may be harmful to me or the baby during pregnancy or delivery, and as my doc, put it. I'm healthy! Healthy as an ox.

The only thing left to test for is high sugar. In four week, I'll be 26 weeks along. I'll have to drink a glucose soda (which my doctor told me tastes like shit), and then an hour later they have to draw blood to test my sugar.

After that, the last blood I'll be giving will be...err... on the delivery table. Eewww.

I was however a bit surprised that I didn't have some sort of issue being as though I'm overweaight. I figured there would certainly be something wrong with me. But I guess the answer to the question, "Can you be fat and healthy," is YES.

Oh and the other big news (at least to me) is that I've only put on 14 pounds since I've been pregnant. This is a very good number. I am on target to put on about 30 lbs. Not bad, since I know people who put on 60-65 lbs.

By popular demand... a pregnancy pic

2008-08-06T15:16:00.005-04:00

I tried to avoid it, but a few people have requested that I just stop being a pussy and post the pregnancy picture no matter how much water I'm retaining... No matter how fat my face is... No matter how fat I am in general.

So... here goes... 4 1/2 months pregnant....

drum roll....

Oh wait! I just can't do it.

Will you settle for a picture of my cankles? Look at those toes. Even they're swollen!

It's The Triple Lindy!!!

2008-08-04T15:02:00.004-04:00

Ok so you remember the movie "Back to School" with Rodney Dangerfield? Remember the Triple Lindy, the dive that he does in the end of the movie where he jumps from diving board to diving board?

Well, I think baby Merrick (that's our little man's name) is practicing the Triple Lindy in my belly. Some days he doesn't move much, but from this morning on... Whew, he's either trying out for the Olympic gymnastics team or taking up Tae Bo in there. (C'mon kid, exercise enough for the both of us.)

On another note... My friend Felicia asked me to post a pregnant picture. You know the ones...where petite cute gals have pictures snapped of their profiles while they are craddling their adorable baby bumps. Well, I tried... and none of them look cute. Instead they look like Free Willy holding his massive blubber, so I say no to posting a pregnancy picture. You'll just have to use your imaginations... and I know I've already painted a pretty vivid picture for you.

And on ANOTHER side note... I heard on the radio this morning that Hoboken is 57% single people. I guess the bars aren't working. You would think they would move to where the rents are more reasonable.

And on my final side note (I promise), why can't I wake up my husband with my laughing and get away with it? Two nights ago I was watching Mr. Woodcock. It's not very funny, but I couldn't help it... Perhaps it was my sleep deprivation... I laughed at the ending scene where Sean Williams Scott is running and pushing the eerily botoxed Billy Bob Thornton on the hospital gurney and he hits the pot hole sending him flipping over on his face. Forgive me, I laughed out loud. Joe was slumbering peacefully and I woke him. He was not happy. But why is ok for him to wake me up to point out some home improvement technique he is admiring on a DYI show, or his girlfriend Amy Matthews, when I know he'll never try his hand at that home improvement technique and I have way bigger boobs than Amy Matthews! Hrrph!

Buy Me Stuff? Ugh

2008-07-30T11:55:00.003-04:00

Last night I registered at Babies R Us. This was a pretty damn overwhelming experience. First of all, I was in the store for more than two hours clicking UPC codes for items that I felt it was necessary to justify before I scanned them.

"I'm telling you. Get the video monitor," said Andrea.

"I don't want to register for a $150 baby monitor," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Andrea said. "There will be some people who come to your shower who will want to spend that kind of money on the gift."

"I don't think so."

In the end, I ended up registering for the $60.00 two handset baby monitor which according to my standards was perfect for what we need. However the pressure and/or reaction to register for anything and everything is there. Call it the power of the handheld scanner. It was a good thing I wasn't registering for designer handbags or shoes.

I felt very weird registering for all of it actually. When I got married, lots of people asked if I was going to register anywhere. I didn't even want a bridal shower. I couldn't in good conscience, register for things that I either already had (albeit a cheaper version), or didn't necessarily need, like expensive china or crystal merely because I was getting married and people should spend money on me.

But here there I was at Babies R Us last night scanning away, and at times really enjoying it. The difference is these are all things that we do need and really couldn't afford to buy all at once or probably even gradually. All the items put together add up to a little over $3,000. Whoa! Do I really need all of those things? When I sat down and looked at all of the items, I could pretty much justify all of them save one or two, like the Mets blanket and bibs I impulsively scanned for Papa Joe. I probably didn't need to register for the couple outfits that I did, but they were just too cute and it would be nice to get a head start on the baby's wardrobe, and Andrea, the queen shopper did remind me that I needed to get a nice outfit for the baby to come home from the hospital in. (Was that a good enough justification? I don't know.)

There were a few things I felt really awkward registering for… like the Playtex dual electric breast pump. I didn't feel awkward because it's a breast pump. Breastfeeding is a very natural thing and it's a choice that Joe and I made together. The awkwardness comes from the cost of the pump. Its $199 smackers! Who the hell is going to spend that money?"

"Don't worry," said Andrea. "Someone will buy it or go in with another person to split the cost. And if they don't you can purchase is after your shower at 10% off since you registered for it and it wasn't bought." So I registered for it. Andrea is good at convincing me to spend more money even when it's not my money. Although I did hear that you could rent breast pumps. They are sanitized and top notch and pump in a faster time... so that's something to consider. Ok, ok, so I snuck in some nipple cream as a bit of a joke at first, but then I realized I'll probably really need it.

So, when I went home last night, Joe and I took a look at the registry online. He made a few suggestions, which resulted in me taking off a few things and adding different things and then I spent a good hour on Target.com looking for the same items. I was thinking that if I found the same items for cheaper, I would register for those things on Target.com and remove them from Babies R Us so I can save everyone money. There were only two items and the difference was only a few dollars, so I guess I'll stick to the Babies R Us registry.

Well, there you have it; yesterday was my moment of weakness. I did register for lots of stuff for our little man and I don't know what people will end up buying or what I'll end up buying after all this is over, but I did it and I still feel awkward about it.

It's A... Penis

2008-07-30T11:46:00.003-04:00

"I definitely know what you're having," said the ultrasound techinician at St. Claire's hospital in Denville yesterday. "Do you want to take a guess?"

Although I didn't want to hazard a guess, Joe was pretty sure he was looking at a penis.
We're having a boy. It was pretty surreal. First of all, the fact that she was pointing out internal organs and things like femur bones, was weird enough. Then to be face to errr, face with your son's penis on a little tv screen, was definitely an interesting moment to say the least. But... a happy moment.

After all, I'm getting what I want... A little man. Even though Joe and I both suspected from day one that we were having a boy, call it an intution, I think Joe secretly wanted a little girl. Five months ago his neice Amanda was born and I think it tickled him pink to see his brother-in-law Frank in awe of his little girl.

But at least Joe will now have someone to watch the Mets with. God, I hope he doesn't grow up liking the Yankees. Joe would be hartbroken.

The next question of course is, Did you pick out names. We've been talking about names for quite some time even though I'm only halfway through the pregnancy. And we do have a name picked out. I could say that it's a secret, but I've already told a number of people so it's not a secret.

Our little man's name will be Merrick Alfredo. Merrick is a welsh name (I'm Welsh and Polish) and Alfredo is Joe's deceased dad's name. We're very happy with the name. We wanted something a little different but not awkward. We can always call him Rick for short if he gets picked on at school. Thank God Joe went for Merrick, because he was really pushing for Marcus and I wasn't liking that name one bit.

So there... a little man!

Natural Child Birth?

2008-07-23T11:07:00.003-04:00

A lot of friends, although after their advice I might call them adversaries, have been telling me to consider Natural Childbirth.

After I finish laughing uncontrollably, I took them in the eye and say...

"Hell, no."

Someone actually said to me, "Well, I hear it's like taking a really large shit, and then the pain is gone and you barely remember it."

"Well good," I said. "You go ahead and take the shit. I'm getting the epidural."

On a side note, this is someone who doesn't have a children, so how would she know, and how can she offer advice on childbirth?

I must admit, I've gotten quite curious about natural child birth. So, I've watched a few videos. The funny thing is, I can't seem to find any full legth, full depiction videos. They are all editted clips.

There's a clip of the husband sitting behind the wife. His hands are on her belly. He's breathing with her. The camera zooms in on his fingers entwined around the mother's fingers. It's such a lovely scene.

Then there's a clip of a woman in the bath tub, resting easily. Her family is around her offering her words of encouragement.

Then there's a clip of the baby's head emerging and quickly it's all over. The baby is born. Everyone is crying. The mom is smiling.

The strange thing is... there is no audio in these clips, other than peaceful music played over the film. This, no doubt is to prevent soon-to-be moms like me from hearing the crys and screams of agony from mother's who very vocally are now asking if there's anyway they can get some drugs. And I dont' blame them. As peaceful as this whole thing looks in these natural childbirth propaganda pieces, it still strike me as extrutiatingly unbearable.

So, I'm looking up videos on how epidurals are administered and when the absolute last moment is that you can request it before giving birth, because I want to be prepared to get the goods!

I want to thank all my friends, who turned me onto Natural Childbirth. I now see the light and realize that you are all fucking insane.

Me Thinks, They've Gone Too Far

2008-07-14T12:29:00.004-04:00

Well, the New Yorker got just what they wanted... We're all talking about their satirical publication.

I've been accused of not giving people enough credit. However, I stand by my theory that many people in this world are as dumb as a piece of cheese, and therefor will not get the joke intended by The New Yorker with this week's cover. Although I believe in freedom of speech, expression and press, I also believe in "responsibility" and this is a very irresponsible cover.

Obama in the Muslim garb sitting in the oval office, would have been satirical enough, but why did they have to put a painting of Bin Laden over the fireplace and an American Flag burning in the fire? This was just plain offensive and in bad taste. I don't necessarily agree with Obama on many fronts but I respect him and what he is trying to bring to the Country.

Although the same issue is supposed to contain a positive article about Obama's campaign, this is clearly just the New Yorkers' way of covering their asses while attempting to sell as many magazines as they can.

"Woo Hoo," Said My Husband

2008-07-09T21:51:00.003-04:00

Today, I stopped by Marshalls on my way home from work. Oh, how I love Marshalls. Sadly, they don't carry maternity clothes so I purchased a few 1x blouses to make up for that.

What I ventured to Marshalls for in the first place however, were bras! Yup... They're getting bigger. In just four months I've gone up a whole cup size. I can't wait to see how big they are at 9 months.

"Honey, I've gone from a C-cup to a D-cup," I said upon entering the house with a bag that was suspiciously larger than one for just bras. In fact is was just the right size for two blouses, a pair of flat shoes to match, a pair of pants, a skirt, and three new (large) bras. Joe noticed said bag size and was about to remark, but I quickly distracted him with my huge ten pound melons. (I don't think they really weigh ten pounds... Well, maybe together they do.)

"Woo Hoo," he said.

Sure, he doesn't have to walk around with them. Oh wait, who am I kidding? He has man boobs. It's called unconditional love, people. And, I'm really embellishing a lot here. They are not that big. Maybe just a B cup... Ok, ok... an A-cup.

I kid. I kid. They're not that big at all.

Do you all think my husband reads this blog? *Crosses fingers and suddenly finds Jesus*

So anyway, yeah... I'm a D cup now. What an awesome, and horrible thing.

Just a Couple Quick Notes and Questions

2008-07-07T13:53:00.007-04:00

1. How come no one informed me that there were new words to Happy Birthday? I knew about the cha cha cha bit, but yesterday my Uncle, Aunt and Cousin called and left me a voicemail (on my b-day, by the way) and they sang Happy Birthday. It was really quite sweet... but they called me a cow! Is that normal? They know I'm pregnant! Tell me it's normal and not a shot at my slowly deflating self esteem.

2. My new niece throws up all the time. She eats. She pukes. She eats. She pukes. I don't know how she gains any weight. Sometimes she regurgitates and it is funny to see the look on her face as she swallows what she just spit up in her mouth. (ugh)

3. Since when do rated PG 13 movies permit the f-bomb? Maybe it's because I'm becoming a parent; I don't know. But I was thoroughly shocked that Hancock dropped the F-Bomb twice. I saw this movie yesterday and not far from me was a parent and probably and 11-year-old kid. Although the reviews were just "ok" I've got to tell you, I thought it was pretty good. I give it a thumbs up.

4. In two weeks time, I will be setting tile in my bathroom downstairs. My husband has had long enough to do it. The tile has been in our foyer for a year. The floor had been ripped out at about the same time we bought the tile. It's taken him a year to take down the trim, spakle the walls... and do absolutely nothing else. So, I have put him on notice, that his pregnant wife will be inhaling fumes and laying tile in two weeks time if it is not done by then. He was not pleased with the ultimatum, but I think he got the message. I will be suprised if it is not done by then. I would also be suprised if he thinks I'm bluffing.

5. Why is nursery furniture so expensive if the kids grow out of it so fast? I'm going to widdle a crib out of some wood, I think.

To Angry Pooch Heaven In The Sky

2008-07-02T15:50:00.006-04:00

A couple days ago Joe's family had to put down their family dog. Comet was...how can I say this?Oh, I know... He was a bastard.

Although he was loved by his family, and at times it seemed like he loved them, he was mostly just pissed off at the world. In the 6 years he got to know me, he never warmed up to me. I think I was able to pet him one time without him trying bite my face off. Half the time Joe tried to pet him, he almost lost a few digits and Joe knew him since puppyhood.

I tried time and again to buy his love with walks around the block, treats, binkies (and not just the $4.00 ones), but nothing seemed to work. My brother-in-law, who was around for about three or four more years than I, never got any respect either.

About three years ago he started to get sick. First his he had an eye problem, and he was pretty much blind. This was interesting because he wouldn't really know you were there, and you wouldn't really know he knew you were standing so close until he tried to bite your ankles. He often didn't realize that Mama Ferreira was the one approaching him and he would even yip at her, and she was the one who sneaked him all the table scraps and cheese. Then he became diabetic... go figure...and he just got angrier. Finally, a week or so ago something attacked his nervous system and he couldn't stand up, hold up his neck, etc.

Off to the Angry Pooch Heaven in the sky he went. So, Rest in peace Comet... or perhaps you'd would prefer to rest in angry peace?

It's a Boy... Maybe?

2008-06-30T16:00:00.005-04:00

There is a new product on the market called the Intelligender baby prediction kit. Sounds really scientific, right? Well, I'm not so sure it is, but I did use the test, which revealed that Joe and I are having a boy....Maybe.

For $40, I got to pee into a cup, suck out 20ml with a syringe and shower said urine over "magic crystals."

Ok, so the instructions don't call them magical, but I think it's just funny to refer to them that way. Sure does make it sound like I wasted $40, but just like the rest of you, I'm made of money.

Anyhoo, the magic crystals turn the urine green or black-ish if it's a boy or orang-ish if it's a girl. My urine was a smokey greenish blackish. So, I'm having a boy, right. Not so fast. The product claims to be only 90% accurate.

I wouldn't buy condoms that were 90% effective, but I would buy a $40 - 90% accurate baby prediction kit that contained magic crystals. I'm wondering if the magic crystals would grow into a giant beanstalk if I threw them out the window into my yard tonight. Wouldn't that be great. Then I could have a baby boy and a golden goose, or some shit like that.

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion. Well, we'll find out on July 28th when I have my 20-21 week ultrasound, if the magic crystals are correct. I'll let you know if I see a penis or a va-jay-jay.

Weight Gain in My Mind?

2008-06-13T14:21:00.001-04:00

This morning I went to my doctor's office for my 4 week appointment. I'm at the point, where I see him every 4 weeks. As we get closer so do the appointments.

Before he came in the nurse weighed me and of course I held my breath and couldn't look. I could hear that she kept having to move the dial on the scale, and all I could think is, "I'm a freakin' house, I know it."

Then all of a sudden I hear. "Great."

Great?

"What do you mean, great," I asked.

She said, "You only put on two pounds."

I couldn't believe it. Here I thought I was getting enormous and she's telling me that I only put on two pounds in the last four weeks.

I asked why it seems to me that I have gotten so huge. I'm clearly showing. I mean this belly is popping out like I'm trying to win a photo finish race, or something.

Apparently around this time my body starts changing. My lower back has begun to arch forward, thereby sticking my belly out a bit.

Ahhhh.

I thought for sure that while normal women put on 30 to 35 pounds, I was on track to put on 50-60. This was such a relief. I of course told Joe and he laughed at me for over reacting all these weeks. I have been over reacting about the weight, I guess.

So, some of it was in my mind and some of it is just my body re-shaping itself. Weird.

Date Night

2008-06-12T15:28:00.004-04:00

Date Night... foiled again.

Well, that's not really true. It's just a quote from Face Off. You remember Face Off? It was an absolutely terrible movie, where John Travolta plays an FBI agent who gets his face switched with mega-criminal Nick Cage. Horrible. Don't even bother.

Anyway. I had a surprise date night last night.

I was driving home from work, called Joe and asked when he thought he would be home and he told me. Here's where it gets exciting. At least for me lately.

"When I get home be ready, we're going out fro dinner," he said.

Lately, our idea of going out to dinner is eating on the Patio.

I shit you not, which means I am not shitting you. I'm sure there is an interesting story behind that saying, but I don't know it.

So, yeah. We went out to eat at a new Italian place by us. I was careful not to order anything with tomoatoes in it because of the whole Salmonela scare. (Is that spelled correctly? Anyone?)

Afterwards we sat on our friends' deck, getting eaten alive by the bugs, throwing back some beers. Well, Joe threw back some beers. I watched. And got tired, and more tired, and more tired.

So, alas date night didn't end in hot, nasty sex. Instead it ended like this...

Zzzzzz
Pee
Zzzzzz
Pee
Zzzzzz
Pee
Zzzzzz

Leading By Example

2008-06-10T11:08:00.003-04:00

I was reading a report yesterday, which was written by a local assistant superintendent about the importance of increasing literacy in the area in which I work.

Lo' and behold, this guy misspells literacy and dictionaries in his report. Surely it could have been a typo, right? No! He actually misspelled dictionaries twice in the same report.

There he is... Leading by example. Just amazing.

I'm Not A Racist But... I Thought This Was Funny

2008-06-04T14:47:00.007-04:00

Wanda Sikes. Sometimes she is funny and sometimes she is not. She was on telelvision recently debating who she was going to vote for. She didn't even mention McCain. Most people don't. I barely mention him myself. (For the record, I am a Republican - - - Because I don't feel like everyone can or should be on welfare. However, I don't care for McCain - so who the fuck am I voting for, I don't know yet.)

So... She's debating on whether to vote for Clinton or Obama. She finally says that if Obama wins the primary (which he has) and eventually wins the Presidency (which he has a very good shot at), Black people will have no more excuses.

She said, "You can't blame the man if you are the man." And then said that black men will blame their being in prison... on Global Warming.

I thought that was just brillant.

Anyhow, my thoughts on last night's primary results are thus:

GREAT! I am very happy that a black man has won the Democratic vote and will be their candidate. Not sure I like him as a candidate, but I'm thrilled for the milestone.

All I can wonder about is what Hillary is thinking.

"Black Men were given the right to vote before women.... and now this too?"

She'll get over it. Women all over the country will get over it.

Some of my more feminist friends will ask, "But Sheri, don't you want a woman president?"

I say, "Are you fucking insane? Half of us can't even program the DVD players in our homes."

Have you ever had a discussion with half the women you know?

We are fucking crazy! We're irrational. We're argumentative. We can't balance our checkbooks, let alone our love lives. Every club, or orgaznization I've ever belonged to has been somewhat ruined by the women who belong to them. We hold grudges longer than any holocaust surviver ever could... and not over something important, but over someone looking at us the wrong way. We try to win arguments with, "Because." We blame everything on men and take none of the blame ourselves and we never admit when we are wrong.

(sigh) I am often disappointed by the fellow females that walk this planet.

Actually, I don't want a woman president. I don't want a black president. I want a president... who is qualified to make decent decisions, who has common sense and can put a sentence together, who doesn't live in some ultra rich echelan of society and can relate to normal every day Americans, and who, I dunno, cares more about doing the right thing than doing the popular thing. If that person happens to be a woman - fine. If he happens to be a man - fine. It if happens to be an ugly, hunch-backed, lepper - fine.

So there...

Bathroom Time

2008-06-03T10:40:00.007-04:00

There are certain moments in a man's life that he needs peace and quiet. The obvious is during sports games. Not all... just the very important ones. Like last night's triple over-time win for the Penguins against The Red Wings. (I somehow knew they would tie it with seconds to go.) I knew enough to go watch the rest of it in bed because I like to talk, curse, and make other noises during exciting sporting events.

The not-so obvious time is when he's on the toilet.

It's not obvious to new wives, or girl friends... and certainly not to mothers, who pound their palms on the door when their adolescent sons start going through puberty. If you have been married for more than a year... then you know that Bathroom Time is very important to men.

I don't know exactly what he does in there, that takes him so long, but I have begun to speculate. Here's what I've come up with.

The Top Ten things my husband might be doing in the bathroom, because no one needs that long to take a shit!

10. He's clipping his finger nails and toe nails. I have found evidence of this.

9. He reads. There are only two places that Joe reads. In bed, and only if I'm reading. I'm not sure if he's mocking me or something... Or on the toilet. I am constantly removing "This Old House" Magazines from the hamper in the bathroom. After I err, read them myself of course.

8. He's making sure that he's completely empty. You never can be too sure. Twenty minutes on the toilet just isn't enough.... especialy if you are a firm believer of not pushing. And Joe is a firm believer or not pushing.

7. He's waiting for the smell to die out a bit before opening the door and killing everything in a thirty foot radius, our cats and unborn fetus included.

6. He's got my Zune and is maliciously deleting songs he doesn't like, thinking I won't notice... But I notice. Someone has got to be doing it and I've heard him snicker ont he other side of that door.

5. He's rubbing one out. Listen, he's usually a lot more calm and less likely to lash out at his fellow man when he does this... so "Go for it, honey!"

4. He's stolen one of those peg board games off the table of Cracker Barrel and he refuses to leave the bathroom until he figures it out. I wouldn't put it passed him.

3. He's trying desperately to come up with a name for a baby boy, so I don't get my way and we can name him what I want to name him... if indeed he is really a boy inside my uterus.

2. He's thinking of the top ten reasons he loves his wife more than anything in the world. Should I be worried that it takes so long?

1. He's soaking up the bathroom time before we have a house full of children who require attention 24/7.

So there...

12 weeks!

2008-05-30T15:11:00.002-04:00

Rock, Paper, Sizzors Saves The World!

2008-05-30T11:19:00.001-04:00

My nephew was asking questions about the baby names Joe and I might have picked out (albeit early). We actually do have two names for each sex, although we haven't agreed completely on the number one pick for a boy. We have debated it several times. Although we like eachother's pick we love our own pick more.

In true kid spirit, Gabriel said, "I know how you can solve this."

"Really, how can we solve it," I asked.

"Rock, Paper, Sizzors!"

Rock, Paper, Sizzors? (gasp) Yes! Rock, Paper, Sizzors!

This got me thinking that if only the world was that simple...

"Listen, don't raise the price of gas."

"But we have to."

"Ok, Rock, Paper, Sizzors. Let's go."

I submit that if foreign relations and negotiations were solved with a friendly game of Rock, Paper, Sizzors, best two out of three of course... my brother never would have gone off to war.

Perhaps Obama should consider this as a solution to many problems our country faces. Clinton seems to have brought many solutions (all of them crap) to the table, while Obama smiles and says, "Yes we can," while offering no real solutions. Enter Rock, Paper, Sizzors. In fact, if the Democratic Party would resort to this past-time, then I believe they would already have a primary candidate.

So there...

A Warm Bed in My Own Home

2008-05-20T21:30:00.002-04:00

An employee of mine slept in a stairwell last night.

Of course... he got himself into this predicament because he lacks common sense.

This guy is a very nice man. Probably one of the best workers we have. I'd like to say that he's the most honest, but I don't know if any of them are truly honest. After a battle with his previous landlord, who had him in an illegal apartment and wanted to evict him when the inspectors showed up, he took the last of his money and gave someone $1300 for rent and security for a new place.

He never got a reciept and he paid cash, because despite my efforts to convince all of my staff to get checking accounts... none of them have one.

Like a bad afterschool movie, you can see where this is going. The person was renting the apartment illegally in a building owned by his parents who were out of the country. He was forcibly removed from the apartment three night ago and when he called the police he could not prove that he rented it, paid this guy any money, or that the things in the apartment belonged to him.

So... this poor guy, who has no family in New Jersey, slept in a stairwell of an apartment building last night.

I gave him $150, which will buy him only three nights at the fleabag motel in Paterson. Told him to not worry about paying me back right away. He can give me a little a time. He cried when I gave it to him. I can only imagine the embarrassment he might have felt accepting that money.

I don't know if giving him money was the right thing to do, but I realized that through my Rotary Club, I easily spend at least $1,000 a year helping other people, whom I've never even met. If I can't help someone I know and respect, how can I live with myself? In my mind it was the right thing to do.

One of my board members was able to make some phone calls and we think we can get him into the local YMCA. He's got to go there tomorrow and talk to some people.

Tonight I will sleep in my own bed, under my own roof, under my own blanket, and I'll probably have a pleasant dream.

My New Silver Dollar Nips!

2008-05-12T11:24:00.006-04:00

Since I've been pregnant, my nipples have gotten increasingly darker. This is to be expected.

What wasn't expected was waking up a two mornings ago, stripping down for the shower and seeing what I saw in the bathroom mirror.

Holy dark areolas, Batman!

Upon seeing my new, dark silver-dollar sized areolas, I had to show them off. I pranced into the livingroom, where my husband was relaxing in front of the TV and ever so slightly bent in his direction.

Upon feasting his eyes on my new assets he asked, "Holy shit. Did you color those in?"

What, did he think I got them tattooed or something? Sure, that would be comfortable.

Anyhow, changes aplenty are bound to happen in the next 7 months.

Oh and by the way.... Yesterday, if my last ultrasound's measurements were correct, I was 9 weeks pregnant... which means our embryo has graduated! He/She is now a fetus!

Woo Hoo!

I would just like to say that my little tyke is the smartest fetus around and I expect that he will fully advance faster than your fetus ever did or could!

I am practicing my parental bragging! So there...

My First Trip To The ER

2008-05-10T12:12:00.007-04:00

(This is a long one... Sorry)

In thirty years, I've never been brought to the Emergency Room.

Let me tell you what's been going on.

About three weeks ago I got sick. It was all sinus related. I had called my OBGYN and although he said I could safely take sudafed, he preferred that I took nothing and just weathered it out. So that's what I did. I took nothing. Pumped my fluids and got plenty of rest when I could. It was terrible, but a week and a half later, maybe a little longer I was feeling pretty good. A few days later Joe got sick. I took care of my man... and then by Tuesday of this week my sinus issues had returned.

On Wednesday I left work early. Clearly the sinus issues were turning into something worse. The coughing started at about 7 or 8 that night. I was up every half hour hacking up what I was sure would be a giant hair ball, but nothing would ever come up. At about 3:00 am, Joe shook me and gave me his inhaler. I was wheezing terribly. I couldn't even suck in the air without going into a violent coughing fit. When I say violent coughing fit, let me explain what this meant. I would lose control of bodily functions while coughing unconrolled. Yup, I would tinkle just a little bit in my drawers. (Full disclosure, here. Sorry.)

At about 6:00 a.m. I called my office voicemail and I left a message that I wouldn't be in. At this point I couldn't get full sentences out. I was having a hard time breathing. Who know's what the voicemail message really sounded like. I don't even know if it was coherent.

I left a message for a fellow Rotarian, asking him to run the meeting today for me. He called me back at 7:00-ish and said, "Get your butt to a doctor. You sound awful."

I did. I had an appointment made for 9:45. Saw Dr. Damico. Told him I was 8.5 weeks pregnant. He said I had an ear infection, Sinus infection and probably bronchitis.

He gave me an antibiotic, told me to take Robitussin for the chest congestion, and he was giving me an inhaler perscription, but didn't want me to fill it until he heard back from my OBGYN. He had called him, but he wasn't yet in the office. Damico was concerned not just because I was pregnant, but because I had a miscarriage a few months back. He said that the baby clearly wasn't going to be getting enough oxygen without an inhaler, but that inhalers could cause over-active uteruses. What the hell that meant, I don't know? I loved that he was being extra cautious.

I filled the antibiotic, bought some Robitussin, and sat at home waiting for Damico's call. In the meantime, I kept making myself cough because I knew this would improve my oxygen intake, if for only a few seconds. Finally around 12:15 I got the call to fill it. This was the best news ever. I went straight to the pharmacy and was told it would take 45 minutes. I wasn't happy about that. Told the pharmacist I needed it to breathe, but still, she couldn't rush it. Whore!

I went home, had a cup of soup, and drove back to the pharmacy. Got the perscription. Rushed to my car, tore open the box, shook it, pumped, breathed it in. Relief? I did it again. Relief? Where are you?

As I put the car in drive and started home, I started to feel a bit better. I was breathing better. Wheezing wasn't as bad. Joe called. I told him I was feeling a little bit better. I took the chance to nap, which I did for about a half an hour. Woke up, wheezing just as bad. I read the inhaler instructions. I was to take two puffs four times a day. There was a possiblity of over dosing with complications if I took it more than the perscribed amount. So I waited in agony. Next puff would be at 4pm. I didn't make it. I puffed at 3pm. Ten minutes later, I was back to agony.

Why I sat there and suffered, I couldn't tell you. I finally called Dr. Damico's office at about 5:50pm to tell him the inhaler was not working at all and that I was getting worse. The nurse told me to go to the ER.

I called Joe and he left work right away. I was so happy that he works ten minutes from home. Sat on the porch waiting for him. Called Andrea, barely able to keep a conversation, I asked her to call my mom and tell her what was going on and that Joe would call her later to update her and dad. If I had called my mom I would have cried on the phone, and I didn't want to be not breathing and crying. I was very worried about the baby.

Joe took me to St. Claires. The person who admitted heard and saw my struggle and got me right in, in front of at least 4 or 5 people waiting. It was great. Finally, some VIP treatment.

They put me on the EKG. My heart rate was high. Blood pressure was very high. Wheezing and lung tightness was very bad. They gave me three prednisone, a steroid. Fine for the pregnancy, they said. They wanted to x-ray, but couldn't because of my pregnancy. They hooked me up to a breathing treatment. It was an hour long treatment. I sat and waited. Breathed and waited. I was able to breathe this stuff in, but it didn't seem to be helping much. After an hour passed... listening to a 70 year old woman in next bed over wretching and trying pass enormous stones, they came in and checked my lungs again. The nurse didn't say anything, just went and got the doc. He checked my lungs and exchanged a weird look with the nurse.

"It didn't do much," he said.

"I could have told you that," I said.

They put me on a second treatment. This one more potent and for a half an hour.

They admitted the old lady next door to the hospital. Her entire family showed up and stood around while she threw up and cried in pain. I would have kicked them out. The TV she had one was playing some movie where women were calling each other whores. I didn't know they had HBO on these TVs. No one gave us a remote. Joe and I sat watching some terrible Jeff Daniels movie, which we could barely hear over the bickering family on the other side of the curtain.

The nurse came in and checked my lungs after the second treatment ended. I was still wheezing. I had gotten a little better, but they didn't want to send me home like this. Doc came in.

"You're still wheezing?"

He was suprised.

"I think we should just pull the plug, doc," Joe joked. We all had a good laugh. The nurse brought me a sandwich that Joe said would probably cost $110. I didn't care I was starving. I was also shaking like a crack addict. The prednisone had kicked in.

They hooked me up to the third treatment. Another half an hour passed. Finally, I was a lot better. I could talk and hold a conversation.

"You're still wheezing," said the doc. "But I'm comfortable with the progress and we can send you home if that's what you agree to."

He sent me home with another inhaler perscription and a five day perscription for prednisone. He said to continue taking the Xopenex inhaler Damico had given me that day, the antibiotic and Robitussin. I was concerned that all those combined with the Prometrium I was taking for low progesterone daily would be harmful so I didn't take any of it until I spoke to my OBGYN's office the next morning. I got the red light and I've been drugged up ever since.

So... that was my scarry night two nights ago. Joe's sister called to check in. Dad checked in. Andrea checked in. My mom came up and baby sat me. It was nice. She brought a couple movies, she made a meat loaf for joe and I for dinner. A mother's job is never done. it makes me realize more, how important my health is to my own unborn child, and that I'm a mother now. I'd like to keep it that way.

I have a follow-up with Damico on Monday. I hope I feel better and good enough to go to work on Monday afternoon. We'll see.

New Kids on The Block Saved The Day

2008-05-10T11:33:00.004-04:00

Oh-Oh, Oh, Oh-Oh, Oh-Oh, Oh, Oh

Repeat

The Right Stuff!

So, how exactly did the New Kids on the Block save the day last Friday? Let me explain! I was driving home from work, and listening to WPLJ, and they were talking about NKOTB getting back together, when suddenly the DJ announced that the kids were going to be performing in concert at the IZOD Center in September. Tickets weren't on sale until Monday, however by being called 95, and I could identify this two second clip of a NKOTB song, I could win a pair. I listened to the sound byte... it was clearly hanging tough. No other song had a prominent police whistle in the beginning.

Never one the pass up the opportunity to win free tickets to see Danny, Jordan, Jonathan, Donnie and Joey in their fucky, fab, fresh duds on stage singing about hanging this way or that way, I decided to call and try my luck. I could buy the tickets, but even though I'm pretty nostalgic about the whole thing, I'm not about to pay 80 bucks to see them. I'll wait until they're on PBS or I'll win a pair of tickets for me and Andrea. Like the good old days, we'll pin our denim jackets with all the NKOTB flair we can find, and scream our heads off, never once hearing any word of any song they sing because we won't be able to get past the frantic screaming of thiry something lady fans dancing around like they're in heat.

I dialed the number.

Damn, it was busy.

I tried again and again. Busy, Busy, Busy.

At one point someone picked up and told me I was a certain number caller. I couldn't make it out because there was some static on the phone for some reason.

I redialed... busy, busy, busy.

I was not one to give up.... but I was about to learn that I had to. There was a trooper pulling me over. I was not on a hands free device.

Shit!

As I waited for the trooper to walk to my car I began to wonder how I would explain why I was on my cell phone. Was there an emergency of some kind? Was my house on fire? Perhaps the truth would be the best repreive from a possible $100 fine. I had to try. My husband did tell me recently that if I got a $100 fine for being on my cell while driving I might as well not come home. He's lectured me often on the don'ts of cell phone usage while driving.

"Do you know why I pulled you over, miss."

(Whoa, he was hot)

"Because I was on my cell phone."

"I have to admire your honesty. What was so importan that couldn't wait?"

"Well... I was trying to win... New Kids on The Block tickets,"

Then I waited. The trooper, who up until that point was keeping a pretty (pretty hot) straight face, suddenly smirked and I think there was a slight giggle. I couldn't be sure because I was also wondering at that time, if I was going to have to flash this handsome fella a looksie of my pregnant breasts. Joe afterall is intrigued and quite pleased that he can no longer one hand them. Perhaps this man in uniform would like a look, I wondered.

"Ok miss, that's quite an interesting reason. It's one I haven't heard before. I'm going to let you go with a warning. Please use a hands free device next time you need to make an important call.... blah, blah, blah, hundred dollar fine, blah, blah, blah..."

He let me go?

HE LET ME GO!

Thank you New Kids on the Block.

Well, I didn't get to win the tickets... but NKOTB still saved the day! Joe doesn't know about this incident, so for the love of sappy ballads like, Please don't go girl... Ummm, please don't tell Joe.

Sex Toy Hiatus

2008-05-01T16:05:00.003-04:00

This is not a story about how I'm not curently using sex toys. Although I can tell you that I'm not. Not really anyway. At least not in the er, conventional way. I don't want to disturb the peace down there. One good Zzzz-zzzz-brzzzzz-bbbrrr, and I could lose this kid. I don't know if that's true. But you never know. You never know, people.

Anyhow, I'm on a hiatus from selling sex toys. It's a bit sad. I haven't really done many parties since I was pregnant the first time. But this time around, I did have three scheduled when I found out I was preggo. I did the first because it was for a friend of mine. Then I gave away the other two to other reps. I must say, the last party was pretty good. It was especially fun.

I played all the same fun games I usually play with them...

"Now, ladies not to worry all of these toys that I'm passing around are virgin toys. They've never been used. Except for that one." *points to the most reserved party attendee with the big purple vibe in her hand*

"Just kidding. All virgin toys."

There is nothing more exhilirating than talking freely about what goes where and how many functions something has. Some of these toys are really outrageous. This one turns into a coffee maker, the other one a universal remote for all you audio visual equipment. Now there are all these male enhancers and "Sleeves" for guys to play with. They're even vibrating now. This is a fun business!

Anyhow, I think I'm going to miss it for the next nine months. My friends tell me that I have a great marketing gimmick. "Hey look what these toys did to me. My husband got me pregnant."

Although Joe will tell you he did it just by looking at me.

The reason I'm not selling right now is because I have to lug around the treasure chest of booty, and it's pretty heavy. I'm not even carrying a laundry basket up the stairs, that's how careful I'm being right now.

My boss told me today how inconvenient he thought my due date was, since I'm due in Dec., which is before a major event. Sure, pick a fight with the emotional pregnant lady in your office. This will end well, I'm sure.

This is my boss of the part time job. What does he think; I can keep this kid sucked inside me until after January - maybe until tee ball sign ups. I didn't realize I should be procreating by his shedule of importance. He's just going to have to get over it. Wait until I start researching paid family leave. Ooops. I was so against it... but now that it's passed... I'm not so sure I am.

Oh well, everyone has to sacrifice. I'm in it for 18-25 long years.

Look! A Tad Pole!

2008-04-30T13:25:00.005-04:00

Ok, so you know I'm knocked up. I don't have current ultrasound picture, but here's my first one and the story behind it.

When I found out I was in a family way my doctor was on vacation, so it was actually about five days later when I first saw him. He comes into the office, and before saying anything at all, says, "You might not be pregnant."

"Oh, no. I'm pregnant."

"But you might not. There's a chance. It could be left over tissue from your miscarriage."

Apparently, most people don't get pregnant two months after a miscarriage. Well, he underestimates that the power of my eggs.

So... he sent me for an ultrasound right away.

The ultrasound produced this picture... of an apparent tad-pole. This was at 5 weeks and two days. Apparantly, there isn't even an embryo visible in this shot. There's the gestational sack and the yolk sack and a small bump that would soon be the fetal pole... from where the baby develops from.

I was so excited that the pregnancy was actually seen. The last time I was pregnant, it was never seen. We guessed it stopped developing very early on.

A week later, someone asked me, "Why are you so peppy?" This made me wonder the same thing. I was exhausted a day or two ago. I shouldn't be peppy. On the way home, in traffic, I kept feeling myself up. My boobs weren't tender. I thought I was losing the pregnancy. Called the doc... and went in for bloodwork. My progesterone level was low, at 7, when it should have been a ten or higher. So... another emergency ultrasound was ordered.

This time, the ultrasound tech wasn't very forthcoming with information (it really depends on who you get and if they're qualified to discuss the pictures or just take them), however she did tell me that the baby had a heart beat of 129 beats per minute! Yeah!!! A viable pregnancy, my doctor called it.

So, he put me on prometrium. It's a supplement that most women who are not producing enough progesterone are on. Makes me dizzy and even more tired than I already am, but it's worth it. I take it when I get home from work, so it doesn't really spoil my day and I can drive a car.

So... I'm hoping to go for another photo shoot in two weeks and by then, it will actually look like something human, we hope. I am 7 weeks and three days today. By week nine, my embryo graduates into a fetus. In post miscarriage mommy-world, this is a big deal.

Morning Sickness Has Hit!

2008-04-30T10:12:00.002-04:00

Haha. I was feeling so good about not having morning sickness. I mean, here I am 7 weeks preggo and barely a drop of nausea. Who is this lucky? Apparently not me, because Morning Sickness has hit, people.

Yesterday, for no apparent reason I started gagging in my car. There's no dead animal in my car...that I know of, at least. I wasn't snacking on anything. I don't even think I drove passed anything revolting or was thinking of anything revolting... I just suddenly gave into the reflex to gag. So, gag I did. I'm sure it was quite attractive to passers-by.

It happened two more times yesterday and was complimented by the type of nausea that you wish was worse, so you could define it. You don't understand? Let me define it.

I would be sitting there with no issues and then suddenly my stomach would be just slightly topsy turvy. But not enough to make me throw up. Only enough to make we want to throw up so I could get rid of the sensation to throw up. It was a dull nausea. Like a paper cut, bothering me on and off all day long. A nausea that wasn't fully invested in making me sick... it just wanted to annoy me.

Joe couldn't be more happy for me.

It's about 10:00 am today and nothing so far. We'll see how the day goes. Regardless, I know I'll be tired...

My Cat The Schmuck?

2008-04-26T21:21:00.006-04:00

I was stressed. It was clear. Although I didn't really know what the stress was all about. My work day was filled with pretty normal stuff. Conference call about an upcoming event. Some staff members were being assholes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I had gotten home at a reasonable time. Traffic wasn't too cumbersome, like it can be on some nights.

But yet, there I was... Name-calling.

I was sitting at my computer trying to get directions to a place I intended to visit that night, when I heard the familiar coarse noise of one of my cats digging his nails into the sofa. He might have been kneeding his bed for the night, which I've often let them slide for. Hell, I even beat the pillow before I lay my head on it.

No. He wasn't kneeding now. He was scratching. There is nothing worse than nails on a blackboard you say? Try my cats' nails on my sofa.

I stood up and ran over to the sofa to catch him in action. He was looking up to me wide-eyed as if to say, "What? I wasn't doing anything." But he was. He was scratching.

"Knock it off, you fucking schmuck!"

I'm normally a reasonably calm person. But here I was. Sticks and stones could break my bones, but names will never hurt... my cat.

That's when I was positive. I had been suspecting for a few days. My cheeks had been rosy for quite some time. And tender nipples either meant my period was coming... or I wasn't getting my period for nine long months.

I was pregnant. I must've been. I sent up a silent plea. "For my Cat's sake, let me be knocked up."

I could have peed on a stick right then. I did afterall have a three-pack under the bathroom sink. (Call it anticipation.) But, I didn't. I went to the kitchen, to the pink box on the table. It's been there for the past two months. Closed up, but waiting for another opportunity to be used. Left over pre-natal vitamins. Left over from a recent pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage. I popped em', finished getting my directions off of Map Quest and left for my destination.

When I returned home, Joe asked if I thought I was pregnant. Apparently, he heard my outburst at the cat and thought the same thing. I couldn't have just been bitchy?

The next day, the test made it official. I am a baby making machine!

Here I was not three months after a miscarriage, in a family way. Super Sperm meets Egg Fantastico! Joe and I are machines. What could I say? I hadn't even done any of the other tactics that I did the first time I got pregnant. No pillow under my butt after sex, this time. Still, Joe's swimmers know their way around a reproductive system. And let's talk about my whoring eggs. Not even a by-your-leave? Just come on in and fertilize away?

My eggs are sluts. And I couldn't be happier.

That was three weeks or more ago... Today I am 7 weeks pregnant.

Introducing...

2008-02-13T21:42:00.004-05:00

My new niece! Here she is... Baby Amanda with my husband, Joe. I don't know who is cuter!

My Sister In Law is In Labor!

2008-02-06T11:15:00.000-05:00

How exciting? I just got a text message from Joe, letting me know that his sister is in labor! She's having contractions and is now at the hospital!

I am so thrilled for her right now. Of course she might be in some pain, but I'm still thrilled for her!

I'm like a big kid right now. I want to drop everything I'm doing. Leave work and go to St. Barnabas right now just so I can be there when Frank comes out of the delivery room and reveals that it's a boy or a girl. BUT, I CAN'T. I really can't leave work. I have so much to do. I can't even leave after work because I have to go to the Governor's Town Hall Meeting a cover it.
Ugggh.

I guess I'll just have to settle for stopping what I'm doing and blogging about it.

Time For Parental Controls, Mom!

2008-02-04T11:31:00.001-05:00

The other day I was sitting home (bleeding - it's what I do lately). Anyhoo, while I was sitting home on the Internet I get an IM from my mom. Well, not my mom. It was actually my 8-year-old nephew Gabriel, who didn't have school that day and was at my parents house. (By the way, what is it today and kids not having school so many days?)

I asked him if he was playing pogo because that is normally what he is doing on my Mom's computer.

He responds, "No, I'm listening to music."

"Oh, what kind of music," I ask, pretty sure he's streaming some cutsie wootstie song on some kid's website.

"Soulja Boy."

Eeeek. Hold the phone!

Is my 8-year-old nephew listening to Soulja Boy? I don't listen to that kind of music, but I'm pretty sure it's inappropriate for him. So, of course I call my mother. She was in the other room and unaware that he had logged onto You Tube and had been watching Soulja Boy videos at the urging of his friend Jalil.

I told her not to worry too much. It could have been worse. He could have been downloading porn.

"Restricted" - Fuck, Why Did I Answer That Call?

2008-02-01T16:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Sheri,

Next time your cell phone rings and the screen shows the incoming call as a restricted number, DON'T FUCKING PICK UP!

Sincerely,
You

There's this promoter who calls me all the time. For 6 years now, he's been calling me. I never call him back. I know, it's rude, but I've always just been turned off by him. He's always offering to meet me at a club to see one of his bands he does bookings for. He's very pushy, and since my company used him and his talent for a lot before I was executive director, he feels entitled to my gigs. Get over yourself. The guy is a promoter who just got a website last year, of course I never took him seriously!

Anyway, he called today and like a stalker, put his number to restricted so it wouldn't show up. He knows I don't pick up when he calls.

He said he wanted to call me and touch base and plant the seed for anything coming up in the future. PLANT THE SEED? Give me a break. Gross.

Speaking As a Former Embryo...

2008-01-31T17:10:00.000-05:00

I had a miscarriage. I was 8 weeks pregnant.

Yes, I'm blogging about it. I've always been an open person. I like dialogue. Writing is my therapy. Some of you may not understand that, so maybe you shouldn't read it.

I guess if there was an ideal time to have a miscarriage, it would be while the baby is still called an embryo and not a fetus. Although, speaking as a former embryo, I’m sure glad I made it to full term.

I never realized how common miscarriages are until this week. So many of my friends have come out of the woodwork to reveal that they too have had one, or two, or THREE miscarriages in their lives. Everyone’s been really great, offering coping advice, kind words, or a shoulder to use if needed. I've also realized that I cope with things entirely different than most people. For example, most of my friends or relatives never even told me they had one, and here I am spilling my guts about it on this post.

Miscarriages tend to be kept secret. In my case, Joe and I told eveyone we were pregnant at five weeks because we were so excited and wanted to share the thrill with everyone. These days most couples keep it under wraps until after the first trimester, since they are so fragile during the first three months.

I had been bleeding since last Thursday – well, Wednesday night really. I knew something was wrong when the ultrasound technician on that Wednesday was eerily quiet and evasive. I mean, the woman didn't point out anything to me, and at one point actually moved the screen further away from me. Of course I thought the worst! My doctor said that the ultrasound came back showing the embryo as not showing a heartbeat. At 7 weeks it should. We decided to set up another one for two weeks from there, because there are many reasons why a heartbeat would not have been visible at that point, and we wanted to give the embryo time to develop more. (As you can see, I keep referring to it as an embryo. I guess that’s one of my defense mechanisms.)

When I started bleeding that night however, I knew something was not right. I don’t mean to gross out my one or two readers, but in the interest of my own therapy this could get graphic. It started out pink – like a pink lemonade shade. By Saturday morning is was bright red; Kool-Aid if you will. The doctor’s office indicated that some bleeding and/or spotting after the ultrasound (the vaginal ultrasound, anyway – Yeah, didn’t know they did that until she told me to take off my pants!) He said that if I started cramping or clotting, I should call his emergency line right away and go to the hospital, and that I was probably miscarrying.

I stayed in bed all weekend and on Monday I went for bloodwork. Tuesday’s results reveals my progesterone levels were very low. I was miscarrying. But, where were the cramps and clots. (sorry, I warned you)

They came at about 2:30pm on Tuesday. I was lounging in bed (collecting bed sores at this point) when I got the smallest twinges of pain in my low abdomen. Ten minutes later the embryo sack just fell out in the toilet. Then came the real cramps, which have been lasting until today by the way. The clotting is ridiculous.

My friends and mom keep telling me to get a DNC, which is basically the scraping of the uterus to clean it out. Anything left behind could cause an infection and harm to me. However, I’ve heard that a DNC could lead to complications as well, because sometimes they are done to rigorously. So… On Monday I’m going for bloodwork again, and if my HCG level is down to zero, then I should be good and “cleaned out,” but if not the doctor may recommend the DNC.

Decisions. Decisions.

Having a miscarriage was certainly no laughing matter, however if you know me, my real defense mechanism is humor. I can laugh about anything. I think laughing is the road to healing. Sure, I’ve grieved. I think I started grieving right after the ultrasound last week.
I have come to the understanding however, that a miscarriage is my body’s way of dealing with an imperfect pregnancy. It was basically rejected. It’s a totally normal thing.

Sucks. Hurts. But still a normal thing.

We’re going to wait a few cycles for my body to heal and get back on track and try again. We’re getting back in the saddle, and my saddle, I mean the dominatrix one. Don’t tell Joe I told you that.

I'm Pretty Sure

2008-01-28T19:36:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure I am having a miscarriage. About two hours ago I started clotting. Before it was just bleeding, but now there's little bits and pieces of what look like clots. Tomorrow I'll get the results of my blood work that will tell me what my hcg levels are at and I fully expect at this point that they will be really low. That's when I'll tell Joe the bad news. There's no need telling him now.

I still don't have any cramping, which would be me going into labor to remove the embryo from my uterus, however with the clotting starting tonight (albeit small), I'm sure I can expect the cramping and or contractions in a day or two.

The weird thing is I feel quite calm about the whole thing. I've always been able to keep my emotions in check. I guess the hurtful thing will be fielding the "how are you feeling?" and "Any morning sickness yet?" questions from all of my family and friends who I've prematurely told I was pregnant. Next time, I will just have to wait until I'm through the first tri-mester before spilling the beans.

Perhaps the whole situation is just surreal and that's why I'm not too upset by it. Of course when the bleeding went from pink to bright red I guess I started running the scenarios in my mind of what could be the outcome, and I've come to terms with a few possibilities.

It is what it is. Even though I've done everything I was advised to do to have a healthy baby, it just wasn't meant to be this time. Next time will be the right time.

Checking My HCG Level Today

2008-01-28T10:16:00.000-05:00

Today I'm going to my doctor's office to have my hcg level checked. I've been bleeding since my ultrasound on Wednesday. It started that night, in a light pink and by Saturday morning it was bright red. So I spoke with my doctor on the emergency line and he advised me to stay in bed and/or off my feet for the weekend. This, I've done.

So, bleeding can be signs of miscarriage but since it's not accompanied by clotting or cramping, there's a good chance it's just bleeding. Who knows? Maybe it's my period. This would be around the time for it. Pregnant women have gotten their periods during their pregnancies before. It's not so strange.

He had indicated that I could go to the emergency room and have an ultrasound, but since I had one only three days earlier it wouldn't tell me much more than my first ultrasound revealed. I have another ultrasound in another week and a half, so I think I'll wait it out.

I've read that 20 - 30% of women experience bleeding during their first tri-mester, so I guess it's not unuaual. Many of them end up having a healthy baby, while others miscarry. Am I worried? I was.

I think now I've come to terms with the fact that things are going to happen during this pregnancy that I won't be able to stop or change, and I shouldn't worry myself too much until it's really time to worry. If my HCG level is low then it's obviously time to worry, and even then, how much can I worry? It would signify a miscarriage and you can't stop a miscarriage. So... I'll wait and see. I'll prepare for the worst but hope for the best.

Do They Really Have to Get Bigger?

2008-01-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

Joe keeps graciously pointing out how much larger my boobs have gotten. From a male perspective, I guess it's great news that his wife is becoming more endowed. However, for someone who is happy with their cup size and adequate cleavage, I have to ask, "Do they really have to get bigger?"

I already can't button some blouses I love (Ok, I could barely button them when I wasn't pregnant), and I just I don't want to go bra shopping.

100 Percent, Without a Doubt - Knocked Up!!!

2008-01-14T15:29:00.000-05:00

So… Yeah, I’m pregnant! Almost 6 weeks to be exact. Joe and I had only been trying since the end of November, so you can imagine how good he is feeling to know that he got his wife pregnant right out of the gate with his super sperm.

It was funny, I had taken two tests which showed two lines. I was thrilled, and so was Joe. But, when I went to the Doctor they tested my urine and it was negative. Turns out I had probably drank too much in anticipation of having to pee at his office, thereby diluting the HCG hormone too much to be detected. I had ran to Walgreens after the appointment to get another test, which was positive so I was stymied.

Well, the blood work came back today to show that it’s all true! I’m pregnant! We didn't really doubt it because three tests couldn't be wrong, but now any doubt is removed.

Hurray!

I have my next appointment in three weeks with the doctor. Dr. DePasquale is a great doctor. I am totally thrilled that I found him a few years ago when Joe and I moved to Hopatcong. I’ve always felt that he really cared about me as a patient and never rushes me through anything. No matter how strange or unimportant my questions might seem he always takes his time to explain anything I need to know. He’s extremely personable. I am grateful that he’ll be the doctor getting me through the next 8 months and the delivery!

Eeeek! The delivery? (GULP) Well, we don’t need to talk about that for quite some time.

For now, I’m popping my pre-natal vitamins, getting plenty of rest, and quickly learning my list of cans and can nots. Apparently everyone is an expert and telling me all the things I can no longer do. Poor Joe's honey-do list is getting longer by the moment.

Knocked Up

2008-01-11T10:51:00.000-05:00

It's official. I'm five weeks prego!

Talk amongst yourselves, while I go see my hot Doc!!!!

Doctor's Appointment Tonight!

2008-01-03T17:14:00.000-05:00

Tonight people! I never really heard of having a Doctor's appointment at 8:45 PM, but I've got one tonight.

Now, you all know that I think my "female" doc is, well, cute. However this appointment is not one of those appointments, but if it were...would that qualify as a date?

I'm just wondering.

New Years Resolution: Buy More Sex Toys!

2008-01-03T14:47:00.000-05:00

Ok, ok. So it's three days into the New year, and you're still looking for that all achievable New Year Resolution to designate for yourself.

Some of the typical New Years resolutions that most people make are:
1. Lose Weight
2. Exercise More
3. "Take Care of Me More"
4. Be More Romantic With my partner
5. Earn More Money

Well, listen up. I have the New Years Resolution for you, that pretty much takes care of all these things!

"Buy (or sell) More Sex Toys!"

You know from readying my blog that I often talk about the sex toys that I sell...and use. Sorry mom, if your reading this!

Take a look at the slideshow of 12 of the new products that Fantasia Home Parties has introduced for the new year! (The new you!)

Our products will help you lose weight and exercize more. Trust me, I know! The more "active" you are...the more weight you'll lose and the more exercise you'll get. Some of this stuff really helps your heart rate too! How about number 3, "Take Care of Me More," - Oh yeah, we've got you covered. Number four: "Be More Romantic With My Partner." What do you think? Do you think my products can help you with this. I think so. In fact, we'll help you be more relaxed, sensual and kinky if the occasion calls for it too! (We know that the occassion does sometimes call for it, right??? - Bondage Tape, anyone? We're got it!)

And Finally: If you want to earn more money, you can do what I do. Become a Sales Rep. It's not just fun. It's lucrative! You can earn 25% commission right out the gate, and earn more and you develop your skills. There's more you'll earn too. Great rewards and incentives, as well as trips! This year, we're going to Mexico for a Fantasia Sales Rep vacation to an all-inclusive resort! Send me an e-mail to sherifrances@aol.com if you want more information on becoming a sales rep! You won't regret it!

I don't know about you but I think I just laid out a pretty good way for you to achieve your New Years resolution.

Take a look at my website: http://sheri.fantasiahomeparties.com/, where you can place an order for any of these items. We ship anywhere and you'll get your products within days in discreet packaging. In fact this month, if you place an order for $75 or more, you'll get our Madame X Tingle Me (Oh boy - this is great stuff...for that all too familiar, "taking better care of your clitoris" resolution).

Ok, I'm done plugging my little lucrative business now. I'd like to wish you all a Happy, Healthy, Prosperous and SENSUAL New Year! Indulge this year.

16 and Pregnant - Let's Celebrate

2007-12-20T10:28:00.000-05:00

It was only a matter of time before I wrote something on the subject of a 16 years olf Jamie Lynn Spears pregnant.

Here goes!

She's Pregnant. It's nothing to celebrate. This should be a somber time in her family, and a I don't think the media should be celebrating her achievement of getting knocked up and foiling her role model image to millions of young ladies and impressionable girls, like my 7 year old niece.

However, People Magazine online is posting articles about how this 16 year old should dress when she starts to show. Because clearly, as soon as we all heard of the knocked up child, we began wondering what this will do to her sense of style. The designer says, "She's 16 and I'd like to see her look her age," while encouraging her to wear cute little jeans and tight fitting t-shirts.

I'm sorry, aren't we glamorizing her situation? Yes, it's a situation. If I got pregnant tomorrow, it wouldn't be, but when a 16 year old does... It's a god damn situation.

And how about her mom selling the story to OK Magazine? This is lower than low! The only possible spin that could be put on this is, in my eyes is the one that would also make it justifyable for a 16 year old to get pregnant and therefor shouldn't be spun. That is to popularize taking responsibility and having the baby. I'm sure little 16 years olds all over the country are now thinking... "Well, if I did, I could take responsibility like Jamie Lynn Spears and have it." And birds would chit, mom and dad would make pancakes and we'd all sit down and discuss the SITUATION!

Spread your legs a little wider girls, it's now ok to get knocked up. Don't mind your dad with the shot gun waiting for your boyfriend on the porch at midnight (not that I'm speaking from experience here), because Jamie Lynn's parents just "Adore" the man who knocked uo their daughter. He's the best!

I'm sure you all feel the same and if you don't what the hell is wrong with you?

To Be More Considerate of Feelings

2007-12-19T12:49:00.001-05:00

I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. If I've ever made one, I've made it sarcastically.

I've always felt that what ever happens to you, happens because of something you did, which basically means you can never be a victim. It means taking responsibility. It's actually pretty refreshing to know that you truly are the person holding the strings of your life.

I have realized, by being in a leadership role of an orgazniation of business men and women, that... people are extrememly sensitive. I am not. Never really was. I tend to take for granted that most business professionals act out of the will to act - The will to be successful in fulfilling a goal. I have come to understand that the individuals who are in this organization are emotional, sensitive people. Well, a small handful anyway. This small handful of people have taken it upon themselves to make my tenure as President extrememly difficult. I have been harsly and personally criticized at every board meeting and behind my back. I've been called a racist, although one person continues to say I take it out of context. I don't know how you can take, "You either didn't have the intelligence to make the decision, or you didn't pick her because you don't like the color of her skin," OR, "You are running this club like the KKK," out of context. Like, I said, I've never been sensitive... but these statements really hurt me to the core.

It's been so difficult, I had contemplated resigning from my post. The last thing I ever quit was the choir in the fourth grade so after some real thought I was not about to do this. However, I have some real reservations about my membership in the organization come the end of my term as President.

I attempted to get more people involved and invested in our mission of Service to the community, and therefor put new people in leadership roles and developed a more well-rounded approach to service, which meant doing things differently. I noticed that the way things were being done for the past four to five years worked only up to a point. We were not engaging more of our members. The same small handful of people were always doing the work, and sometimes they allienated other people as well as thoughts and ideas in the process. It was time to do things differently. I had also received feedback from so many people that one person in particular was manipulative, overbearing and just plain high maintenance as the chair of a particular committee. Therefor I restructured that committee's goal and spread it out throughout other committees to have more people involved. She has been pretty combative at every turn all year long.

Now, what could I have done differently? I probably could have taken the feelings of these individuals more into consideration. I doubt I would have been willing to cater to their emotional needs and desires as opposed to making our orgazniation better and more well-rounded, but perhaps I could have at least been more communicative with them during the process of developing the year's goals to help them absorb the shock of not being in the powerful positions they once felt they were in.

My "SERIOUS" new year resolution is to take others' feelings into consideration more... And probably to develop yet another layer of my skin, making it all the more thicker.

"I Searched for Clitoris and You Came Up."

2007-12-18T15:42:00.000-05:00

I have been honored before. OK, not honored as in someone giving me an award, but I have felt honored before when someone mentioned they stumbled across my blog and enjoyed reading something about my gynecologist being hot, or me falling down some stairs... you get it.

Well, I am honored once again, that "E", who works for Fantasia Home Parties, the company I sell sex toys for, recently went onto Blogger and searched for "Clitoris," and wouldn't you know it - my blog came up. See! I've always known I was providing a service here.

Anyhoo, there's going to be a Fantasia Home Party rally, which is really a great big gathering of sales reps to discuss the company, products, recruiting tips, etc. At this rally in January, "E" is going to be leading a discussion on interesting ways to market our businesses using tools such a Blogger. She is apparently going to mention my site, which has generated some traffic to the Fantasia Home Parties Website. See, I am providing yet another service. So there. Justified once again! This is great.

So, even though they may not see it until January, I'd like to give a shout out to all the sales reps hanging around the Blog PowerPoint presentation discussing what else?... Sex toys, erogenous zones, and my blog. I'd also like to thank the Academy, and all the crew who made it possible.

Now I'll bridge into a list of other things I am thankful for all because of events between last night and today.

1. ID Juicy Lube. Particularly the Strawberry/Kiwi ID Juicy Lube. Thank you so much for making last night a bit more fun!
2. The heater in my car. Baby, it's cold outside. Err, at least it was in the morning.
3. Micro-Center. I was looking for the perfect store to get my Uncle a Gift Certificate for Christmas at, and you are the winner!
4. Mint Medley Tea - a Blend of cool garden, spearmint, and peppermint. I enjoyed a cup of you a moment ago.
5. Joe - who is home today from work, and one of the projects he is working on is researching the cost of rending a fan because we are picking up some furniture from my Aunt and Uncle before they move to Texas.
6. Lori, my friend, who was kind enough to do some research and start setting up a cruise to nowhere for just us gals! Good times.

Those are a few of my favorite things.

Baby Making 101

2007-12-17T11:33:00.000-05:00

Whew! Trying to make a baby is a lot of work. I mean all the sex is great. GREAT! It's the standing on my head for ten full minutes afterward that really has me tuckered out!

What? I don't need to do that?

Actually, it's remembering to take all those vitamins, and not drink alcohol that's trying my patience. Not reaching for the extra cookie, and cutting down on caffeine also really sucks! With all of our extracurricular nighttime activities, I'm wondering how long before Joe pulls a really bad hammy too!

Sacrifice, people! It's all about sacrifice.

Well, believe it or not, I've studied more for getting pregnant than I ever did for any test or exam in college. I could probably teach a course - Baby Making 101.

I know when I'm ovulating, despite my mother trying to convince me to buy an ovulation predictor kit. I also know that sperm lives in my reproductive track for about 72 hours. That's just plain gross, but good to know. So, we can do the nasty before and while I'm ovulating to maximize the chances of getting knocked up! I'm not exactly telling Joe when I'm ovulating because I don't want him to feel like he's a machine who needs to produce or I'll return him to the store. But, he could pretty much figure it out if he was so inclined.

I know what positions are best for deeper penetration (ok, I knew that before), but not all deep penetration positions are productive. For example, if I'm on top (my favorite - I can see the TV better this way) then penetration is deep, but the sperm pretty much start moving in the wrong direction immediately. Missionary, and Doggie Style (umm, from behind, if you prefer) are the better two positions for getting the sperm the closest to the opening of the cervix. Spooning is also nice for this and well... is nice too!

I haven't quite gotten around to getting a basal body temperature thermometer, but that might come later. 50% of women get pregnant in the first 6 months, while 85% get pregnant during the first year. So I think I have a way to go, given that we've only been trying for a month. (Although, we've been practicing since something like our fifth date!)

In terms of vitamins... Jesus, I'm taking a lot of vitamins; the most important being folic acid. Joe is also taking some stuff. Vitamin B, a muti-vitamin, something else I can't recall, and I'm sneaking lots of garlic into his dinner - - all for the production of healthy sperm. We're going to be hot-tubbing it next weekend with some friends, but I won't be ovulating so it doesn't matter if he loses a few guys!

Of course Joe thinks that none of this is necessary. According to him, all he has to do is look at me the right way and I'll get pregnant. He's just that good! Bam! The essence of Joe!

I'm Sorry...

2007-12-10T16:43:00.001-05:00

I'm sorry. Did you say something? I'm having a hard time concentrating...

Forgive my For Not Torturing My Husband

2007-12-07T12:05:00.000-05:00

I work a lot. My two jobs keep me pretty darn busy. (I know, it will all change when I get knocked up, but for now, I like to be this busy!)

I was at a work function the other night. It was a dinner of sorts. A Dinner Musicale, people! It was quite pitiful, but I am a masocist and sat through the whole thing. Then I went home, tied Joe up to the bed posts, donned my latex body suit and trampled all over his chest and nether region with heels on. I told you I was a masocist!

Anyhow. I don't want to torture my husband any more than I already literally do, therefor I don't ask or make him attend many work fuctions, like said dinner musicale. I seem to always get shit for this. Sometimes one of my board members will say, "You know you really ought to have a date for this event."

Well, two things here.

1. I'd rather dance with other women's husbands. Does that make me a hussy? My husband doesn't dance... Even after ten or so drinks, the man still barely dances.
2. Do I look so utterly alone that he feels I need to have a date?

Forgive me if I don't want to torture Joe by inviting him to all these events that he would rather talk to telemarketers on the phone, than attend.

When I go to these functions, it's usually me, and a bunch of men who have happened to bring their wives. Most of these women are stay at home soccer moms, or women who have part time jobs. Some of these women look at me a bit odd when I am in a deep converation with their husbands, about something they'll never understand because it doesn't involve what was on Dr. Phil's show today, or what the lines at the grocery store were like today. So, I do often feel the need to mention my husband, so these ladies don't feel like I'm flirting with their men. For the most part, I see no reason for Joe to go to 90% of my work affairs.

I have known people through work for the past 6 years who have never met Joe, who I've been with for 5 years and married to for 2 years (coming this Jan. 13th - hurray!). I'm ok with that. Work is work. Home is home. Joe is Joe, and I see no reason to drag him all over the place.

It's bad enough he has to go to all the weddings we get invited too. Ok, he had fun at the last one, but that's probably the only one he enjoyed this year. I think we've been to five or six weddings this year. Whew!

It's Official! We're Trying.

2007-12-05T16:02:00.000-05:00

Joe and I are trying to get get pregnant. Don't Laugh. We really are.

I'm taking my Folic Acid, Vitamins, and drinking lots of green tea to get my body, "Baby Ready." Joe's cutting his caffeine, taking Vitamin C, and I'm putting lots of garlic in his food. lol. There's really a lot that needs to be done for this. It's amazing.

Anyway, I already know when I'll be ovulating next, and have learned that I should really be having sex (with Joe, of course) two to three days and each day before I ovulate because apparantly sperm stays alive in there for about 48 hours, just waiting for an egg. Man, and I was afraid to sit on a public toilet because of what might be alive on the seat?

Oh, and Joe has to stay away from hot tubs because it's not good for the little guys... And he has to try not to ejaculate excessively. Umm, unless of course my cooch happens to be in the same room.

No alcohol for the holidays. (Well, maybe a glass of wine on Christmas Eve).

Anyhow. It's on, people!

Dim The Headlights, Ladies!

2007-12-05T11:49:00.000-05:00

Ohhhh, I’m so excited. This is another opportunity for me to feign some knowledge in an area that many of us, women anyway, can benfit.

Ok, your headlights. Peanuts. Goosepimples. Dials. Panic Buttons.

Your Nipples, people! This is a PSA about nipples. Well, not so much about your nipples, but rather more about what the appearance of your nipples means to the community. Ummm, your family at get togethers. Your boss who’s trying to avoid a sexual harrassment claim. Or… my favorite. You’re second grade class who have not yet had sex education or anatomy, and are asking themselves, “I thought it was impolite to point?”

Nipples are taboo. Look at the whole nipplegate scandal with Janet Jackson at the Superbowl. She could have worn some outrageous shirt that came within millimeters of her areola, and gotten away with it. Instead, she chose to expose the nipple! (gasp!) It’s a no-no, people.

On the stage, performing, as stripper is one thing. But at work, nipples should not be the object of attention, which means you have to ask yourself, “To pad or not to pad? That is the question.”

Rarely do you thumb through an employee etiquette handbook, and read, “you must wear a padded ‘unmentionable’ in order to not show your hard nipples to the entire office.” However, I am urging for the sake of your co-workers, your boss who is afraid to broach the subject, your self, and of course… that second grade class… to please put a dimmer on the highlights.

Ok, I get cold a lot. A LOT. I’m not anemic or anything (Oh gosh, what if I am?), heck, I’m not even horny (Oh gosh, I wish I were) all day, but for some reason my nipples are usually hard at work. For some professionals, this may be an asset. For example, if you happen to be a server at Hooters, or a call girl at the Bunny Ranch, or perhaps as a professional glass cutter. In an every day office setting (or, ahem, at school) this is not appropriate.

Ladies, erect nipples can suddenly transform you from a member of the team to an object of male fascination or fantasy. Female co-workers may look at you with sympathy -- or contempt, if they think you're using your anatomy to your advantage. Offices are almost notoriously cold (so are schools – are you getting my drift with all the school subliminals?). Ultimately, headlights are not good for the office if you wish to be taken seriously, and do not wish to become the “water cooler” discussion topic every day.

Here’s a hypothetical… using a grammar school setting. There’s a female teacher who enevitablly has the most engorged nipples around… in fact, they are really round too! She dresses in a cute bra that fits comfortably, however is pretty thin in material. Throws on a typical shirt, could be any material really, and heads to work. She walks into the Main office to check her mail box and sign in. The secretary in the office holds a conversataion with her and proudly manages to not stare at her hard nipples. Next the principal enters the office and immediately notices the panic buttons and well, PANICS. He focuses on the teachers eyes, careful not to stray, for if he’s caught looking at her breasts, there could be all kinds of complaints. Then the teacher gets to her classroom, greets the class, and it’s time for the flag salute. We’ll she’s giving the flag and her second, I mean, third grade class, the double gun salute. All day, teachers are avoiding nipple-to-eye eye contact, running as fast as they can away from the teacher’s earshot to giggle or gasp at how rediculous it is that they have to see this women’s cash and prizes all day, almost every day because she won’t wear a padded bra.

Listen Tits McGee, there are options out there for you. There are padded bras. Sure, they could be bulky, but you could find them lightly padded. Go to Victoria Secret. Nipplets! There are Nipple Petals that are adheasive covers that stick over the nipples. You could even continue to wear the cute thin bras that makes you feel like a woman, but wear either the Nipplets or those round band aids. Sure, these band aids could hurt a bit when you peel them off later, but think about it. You’re nipples are hard every day, and all day long. I have nipples. I know that hurts. Don't try to pretend that you don't notice!

Now that you have read this special PSA and maybe understand a little more about what your options are, I urge you to change your ways, nipple women! Dim the headlights.

If that’s not enough to convince you… If you think, “Hey, I’m a woman. I’m a feminist, with a short little hair cut, I don’t have to change my appeareance to make others feel comfortable.” I submit to you that you do have to change. Because what if men begin tothink they can start wearing tight, thin pants, and barely there underwear? Do you really think little Sally should be going home from school to tell her mom and dad that Mr. Smith, her second grade teacher has a lizard in his pants. Well, I don't think little Sally, or Joseph should be going home every day telling their parents that you rolled a snake eyes today and every other day.

Smarten up ladies!

Holy Crap, Am I Pregnant?

2007-11-27T12:02:00.000-05:00

No. No, I'm not, but thank you for playing. Joe and I had the baby talk last night.

A Few years ago the talk went like this:

Me: "So, you want to have kids?"

Joe: "Yup."

Me: "But not for a few years?"

Joe: "Yup."

Me: "Great. Me too."

Maybe a year ago, the baby talk went like this:

Me: "We should have a kid in about two years."

Joe: "Yup."

Me: "Which means we should start trying in about a year. What do you think?"

Joe: "As long as we get to practice a lot now."

Last night's Baby talk went like this:

Me: "I think we should start trying to have a baby around February."

Joe: "Why February?"

Me: "I feel like it's time, but I don't want a baby born over the summer. Too hot.

Joe: "Will interfere with camp too."

Me: "Yup."

Joe: "So, February?"

Me: "Yup."

Joe: "So you'll stop taking your pill in the beginning of the month?"

Me: "Yup."

Joe: "We can still practice a lot now."

Me: "Yup. What do you think? Good idea? Are we ready?"

Joe: "Yup."

As you can see, we've really talked it through.

I'm not bragging or anything.... and a flipped mustang.

2007-11-26T14:55:00.001-05:00

Listen, I'm not bragging or anything... BUT, I made a really excellent Thanksgiving Dinner. I mean honestly, a pomegrante and chipolte glazed turkey, veggie and giblet stuffing, fresh cranberry sauce, garlic mashed potatoes... oh and the desserts. Good grief. There's goes the diet.

Joe and I had his family over for dinner. There was another person in the room who doesn't speak Portuguese (Max's girlfriend), so they barely spoke in Portuguese and I could almost understand everything they were discussing. (Even the English).

My parents didn't come to Thanksgiving. Not sure why, but I suspect it was because they've been angry at me for blogging about my sister, and how I feel about her. (Not on here, but on another blog. Sorry if you're upset that I'm cheating on you.)

To quote my father, "You put it on the Internet for everyone to read. It should stay in the family! Of course we're pissed at you!" Keep in mind that of all the people in the world, my father encourages me to feel the way I feel about my sister. I'm pretty sure he saw it, since I posted it a month earlier. He probably just let my mom see it and when he saw how upset she was, he became dutifully upset as well.

It's been a long time since my parents were pissed at me. Not sure if that means I'm doing something wrong or if I'm doing something right. Hmph.

My brother got into a car accident. The accident, he has entitled, "The death of his youth." Yeah, ok! The fact that he totalled his Mustang and replaced it with a Ford 500, if probably the true death of his youth, but what do I know?

I've totalled two cars in my life. Wait, correction! Two different dumb ass drivers totalled two of my cars for me. (Happy Birthday Sheri - two totalled cars!). However, Dave's care accident, albeit his first car totalling accident, takes the cake. He can no longer make fun of me for any accident I've ever been in. Why? Well, because his didn't even involve another car.

I asked, "Were you avoiding something on the road?"

He said, "No. It just happened."

He flipped his Mustang on Rt. 280 in NJ, without having swerved to avoid anything. I've seen the picture, in fact I'm going to post it here. You tell me. - No rain. In the light of day. Not much traffic (although that could be because they're all behind his accident stuck in B2B traffic)... Anyhow, weather and time of day, and he was basically just driving straight and according to him not that much faster than the speed limit... would you believe that he was paying attention to the road? That we wasn't trying to avoid something in the road...like, oh I don't know... another car that he was suddenly heading for?

He's got to stop putting on mascara in the car. Oh wait, that's me.

Silly Drunkedness Leads to Relationship Revelation!

2007-09-18T09:58:00.000-04:00

Joe and I went camping with the fam this weekend. It was great. I look forward to my parents' annual after Labor Day camping trip... which is at a camp ground ten minutes from my house. Joe and I would sleep at home and just drive there in the morning and home at night, but there is usually booze involved.

You've got to love my parents. They always have tequila and a camp fire going. So, I brought Vodka and cranberry, and mohitos for good measure.
By about 5pm yesterday I was pretty smashed. I normally don't get silly drunk, but this time I did.

Apparently, later that night, I was sitting next to my hubby, practically minding my own business when I blurted out that I wanted to punch my sister in the face.
Three things are important here.

1. I always want to punch my sister in the face. (She is an idiot, who I am tired of helping figure out her life, while she continues to make the same wretched mistakes despite the warnings and support of her family)

2. She hadn't said or done anything to me that night that would warrant me punching her in the face. I guess my subconsious finally said to my inebriated little mind, "Why don't you verbalize how you really feel."

3. I am not a violent person.

She was sitting across the fire and it just same out.

"I want to punch her in the face."

My husband, who like a good man, drinks my drinks when I get silly drunk so I don't make too much of a fool of myself, tried to make light of the situation while my sister became enraged. She was drunk too, but not silly drunk. She was white trash drunk. There's a difference.

She began muttering under her breath things I couldn't hear. As Joe informed me of what I had just said out loud, I began laughing and putting up my fists and playfully jabbing into the air. (In the morning I was told that I looked like the Lion in The Wizard of Oz, jabbing into the air and throwing a hook, while saying, "Pow." - The whole time looking right at my sister) Apparently this made her more angry and I found myself sitting at the picnic table with my Grandfather, hubby (because he brought me over there), and my father (who is as much finished with my sister as I) who began egging me on to continue to taunt her.

Can you believe it? My father wanted me to throw down with his other daughter. We're really good people. I swear.

Anyhow, my sister, who was now looking to put me in my place, came over to my father's makeshift kitchen area, and was muttering more things under her breath, when suddenly my husband was telling her to shut up, and not to threaten his wife, and that she would have to go through him to get to me.

Well, at this point, I was pretty sober and wondering what had just happened to make Joe yell and curse at my sister. I had to be filled in again, and of course began laughing about it all over again.

You're probably wondering what my revelation is.

Well I guess it's that my husband is really there for me. Willing to yell and curse at my sister to defend me. Priceless.

I never really needed any of my boyfriends. Sure, I liked and loved most of them, but I never needed them for anything. (Aside from a little sexual satisfaction. Don't judge me.) I think that most of them felt somewhat unappreciated too, since I was always very independent. But my husband? I need him. Not only would he hold my hair back if I needed it, but he would even kick my sister's ass to protect me.

He's so sweet.

I'll probably apologize to my sister for my behavoir... even though I'd still like to punch her in her face.

No News... Except my Nipples Turn 30 Today!

2007-07-06T14:49:00.000-04:00

Ok, some of you have been sending me e-mails about my hottie Doctor's appointment. Well, not much happened. Had my cervix scraped clean. Not pleasant. He said he would call me if there was a problem... No call... so errr, I guess no problem. I'm kind of upset that he didn't call though. I mean, I don't let just anyone scrape my cervix. That bastard probably found a younger, thinner cervix...

Which is a great bridge into the next topic.

I'm thirty years old today! No shit. Thirty.

That's it. No balloons. No party. I don't even have an emerging wrinkle to signify the big 3-0. Kind of anti-climactic, if you ask me.

ALTHOUGH... I was awoken at almost 3:00 AM by my husband flicking my nipples. Nice! He was saying, "Happy 30th Birthday nipple number one... nipple number two."

Is that not the epitome of cute?

So yeah, I gots me some birthday nookie at 3:00 AM. We didn't even get up to brush our teeth. It was hot! Don't be jealous.

So, what am I getting for my birthday? Well, I was going to get the Motorola Q phone and PDA, but I instead had Joe order me Nutrisystem. Yeah, I know... you didn't know that I was that fat. I was trying not to scare you off. But I am, and alas, I am tired of it. Even got a personal trainer and am hitting the gym three times a week. We're even doing our part in the plight to lose weight tonight by going to my favorite Indian Food restaurant, The Clay Over, for my birthday dinner.

It's NutriSystem food starting soon. Can you please pass the cardboard stew?

Movie Rentals Are Like Cocain...

2007-06-27T10:57:00.000-04:00

I have this terrifying addiction. Terrifying because I have been renting pretty terrible movies lately. Sure I've gotten a few great ones, but some of them have been awful!

I got sucked into this Blockbuster online movie deal. I pay 17.99 per month for three movies to be mailed to me at any given time. I could get three movies for the month...or maybe 15. It all depands on how quickly I watch them and return them. Here's the addictive thing. When you return the movies that were mailed to you to a local store, you get one free rental for each movie you are returning. in the past month I've gotten at least 12 free movies. I'll watch two a night sometimes. As soon as Blockbuster online is aware that you've returned them, they automatically send out another three movies on your Queue.

I just received Underworld Evolution, Black Dalia, and New World in the mail yesterday. But I had returned Hannibal Rising (which stars a yummy young French actor named Gespard Ulliel, who when I realized was the same age as my kid brother, I felt like a craddle robber just for licking my lips.) I took Unknown, and Finding Neverland to the local store a couple days ago and picked up Smokin Aces, Amityville Horror (which I thought was scarier than the first), and Ghost Ship. Ghost Ship, people! I also rented Timeline at some point. Eeek. The only good thing about that movie was Gerard Butler with his shirt off. Who am I kidding? It's probably why I rented it!

I'm renting terrible movies because well, all the good ones are in the Queue, so I don't want to have any conflicts. I could just put them in the mail and get 3 more mailed...but I can't resist the three free in-store rentals.

I think I need an intervention.

Srapbooking

2007-06-20T23:21:00.000-04:00

I think scrapbooking is a way of making your pictures, memories and life experiences more exciting than they really are. Maybe just create better memories...

Go ahead, send me your hate mail now. I can take it.

My Vagina Is Trouble!

2007-06-20T22:32:00.000-04:00

Aside from my vagina being one velvety man magnet, it's trouble. Yeah, I said it. Some people have problem children, but I have a problem cooch. I got my annual pap smear, which is of course one of my favorite days of the year. Isn't it one of yours?

A week later, I get this phone message.

"Hi Sheri, this is Karen from Dr. De******'s office. Listen, give us a call back regarding your last visit. Nothing urgent."

Oh sure! Nothing urgent!

Meanwhile I will adopt my husband's reaction to my telling him about this voicemail message.

"Rut Row!!!" Note the three exclamation points.

I didn't get the message until after hours because I'm one of those ladies who has their phone buried in the bottom of their bag, and since I'm always in meetings I like to keep it on vibrate. (and for other reasons, but that's not important now) So, I never hear it, and usually get messages late.

It was also Friday, and since the office is closed on Saturdays, I had to wait until Monday. It was a long weekend. I consulted the magic eight ball and it said that I wasn't pregnant (ok, I took a test)... So it could only mean one thing. Cancer. Yeah, that's sort of melodramatic.

Turns out I had an abnormal result, which as they said, could mean many things. You know that part of the movie Forrest Gump, where bubba is telling him all the kinds of shrip you could make.

Well... Cervical Cancer. Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Adenocarcinoma. Ovarian Cancer. Endometrial Cancer. Vulvar Cancer.

So tomorrow at 3:45 I'll be back in the stirrups, staring down at my hot doctor's face between my knees.

I'm not going to worry until I worry. It's probably because my doctor is in love with my vagina anyway.

Ok, Ok! It Had To Happen

2007-04-11T16:41:00.000-04:00

Yeah, so although I'm dying to write about Don Anus, The trooper who gave me a careless driving ticket as opposed to a speeding ticket and said he was doing me a favor (???), the stripper with his junk way too close to my friend's face and babies, babies, and more babies that all my friends are popping out like Pez like they were Pez despensers. I am rather using this rare moment of weakness to blog quickly about my haircut.

You see, way back when Bill Clinton first became President, I had a headband fetish. I was poked fun at for having Hilary Clinton's hair style... as though she was the only woman who ever wore headbands. Assholes.

Anyway, on Satrurday the day after Christ was supposed to have woken from his slumber, I went to get a haircut. As all salons do, this salon had a book with hairstyles to choose from. When I found the cut that I always look for and find I approached the stylist who was to cut my hair.

I asked, "Can you do this haircut? Everytime I go to a place to get my hair cut I ask for this very style and even though they say they can do it, they never get it right."

"Piece of cake," she said.

"That's easy," she said.

"Sit down," she said.

Well, she should have said "Pie in your face!"

As she was cutting, I suddenly noticed that my hair was a lot shorter than it should have been. And wait, is she actually spiking the back of it? She gave me the haircut from hell. The only way to fix this haircut is to shave my head and let it grow back!

When I got home, of course I unfuckingspiked the back and styled it the only way it could really be styled.

"It is what it is," I said to myself while grimacing at my reflection in the mirror, with my nephew asking why I got a boy's haircut from the doorway.

Well, lo and behold, when I returned to work on Monday... my dearest dearest boss remarked, "You got the Hilary Clinton haircut!"

It's Wednesday today. Had a board meeting this morning. I swear that the unwritten agenda item was Sheri's haircut. Hilary Clinton references flew like Kirsten Dunst on pot. I was asked how I felt about Obama being in New York recently, and if I had any sudden urges to buy a lot of pant-suits? Strangely, I had, but that was besides the point.

Well, take care. Who know's if I'll ever blog again. SMOOCH!

Goodbye

2007-03-05T21:44:00.000-05:00

Well, I know this is sudden, but it is something I've been thinking about for some time. I have found myself blogging at inappropriate times, checking for comments, reading all of your blogs, etc. when I should be spending time with my husband, doing house work, work-work, and other important stuff. Other things have suffered,and something now has to give.

Unfortunately, it will be Cares and Matters. I had fun writing my thoughts and stories down, and I appreciate all of those who have read and commented, but this is good bye. That's it. No fan fare. Just good bye. I'll try to keep reading the blogs that I enjoy and continue to comment.

Take care,
Sheri

My Mountainous Butt

2007-03-04T22:33:00.000-05:00

So two nights ago I was laying on my bed on my stomach and Joe was next to me. Our cat Smokey, climbed up onto the best and started to walk up the backs of my legs. Then, as he kept climbing, Joe said to me, "The cat is climbing up your mountainous butt."

Now, I could be mistaken, but that's not a very flattering statement. If I didn't love him I would have beat his ass, but then I remembered... It may be mountainous, but he's a mountian climber.

What to Do About My New Slow Friend

2007-02-27T11:16:00.000-05:00

So about my "other" job. You know, the one where I sell and give advice about sex toys...? Ok, you're with me. Great.

I do this thing on Myspace, which is very annoying, but surprisingly successful. Using my Dildo Lady Myspace name and page, I browse ladies' pages in certain age categories and in a certain zip code radius and I send them e-mails and friend requests. This is a lot like those e-mails I get from "Dwight, Jessica or Bill" asking me if I want to refinance my mortgage. Even though I do want to refinance my mortgage I delete the e-mails without responding because what kind of brokerage would actually market themselves on Mysapce? Probably a scam artist! However, since the Internet's true purpose is for porn (Right Al Gore?) I figure marketing sex toy parties is right in line with normal.

I've actually gotten many party bookings and Internet orders, which generate nice commissions, so I'm hooked as you can imagine.

Well, I've reached my first snag. One that makes me think I might need to rethink this marketing effort.

I logged on yesterday and saw that my friend request was accepted by a woman who is 27 years old and who lives a few minutes from me, so I did what I normally do at that point. I posted on her site a "Thank You for Adding Me" glittery, bells and whistles comment.

She replied to the comment by sending me an e-mail, which is usually a good sign that she is interested in hosting a party. So I anxiously read it and many red flags went up as I did so. I would like to now share her e-mail with you.

Hi Sheri! Very cute! First...let me apologize for not telling you about myself sooner. My parents don't like me being on Myspace! (RED FLAG) What do you like to do? (RED FLAG) What music do you like? (RED FLAG) I like spending time with friends, listening to music...I'm kind of weird when it comes to music. (RED FLAG) I like 70's & 80's pop/rock.... (RED FLAG) Do you have any siblings/pets? (RED FUCKING FLAG) I live with my parents in XYZ, NJ, and my sister lives 5 mintues away. I have a Shepherd/husky, named Tonya, and a black & white cat named Felix. (RED FLAG) Tell me about yourself! I'd love to get to know you, and if possible, hang out sometime! (RED FLAG)

Signed...The girl who sent the e-mail.

It dawned on me, that I had sent a friend request and e-mail asking a developmentally slow person if they would like to host a sex toy party at their home! Go ahead, you can laugh. I knew I had this coming. I laughed in the car ride to work this morning. I did not laugh when I saw the e-mail yesterday however. Instead, I said to myself. "No," (pause) "No," (pause) "Noooo!" (pause) "C'mon!!! No!" (pause) "No I didn't!" (pause) "Holy Shit, I did!" During the time of pauses I was checking the profiles of her 4 or 5 friends, and realizing that her friends were either sisters/cousins or other Developmentally Disabled friends. (Could they all come to the party? I don't think so!)

Naturally, her mom and dad, who don't like her to use Myspace because I'm sure they want to keep her away from things like...Oh, I don't know... E-mails about Sex Toys would be real thrilled to know that she had just been solicited to host a sex toy party!

Those of you who do know me and know about my volunteer work with handicapped children and adults know that I now need to do something. I need to take action to save her from ridicule or discipline from her parents. I don't want her parents to stumble onto her Myspace page and see my Sex Toy Business page in her friend list and chastise her for being foolish, because you know they will.

I thought that I would simply tell her that I have another Myspace page; my real Sheri Myspace page, and ask her to delete this friend request and send her another one for her to accept from that page. That would be ok, but then again, I wouldn't want her to read half the shitte posted on that page either. I would have to take down the blogs I had posted, which are quite frankly, ok for my father to read, but that's it. I would also have to start approving the comments that my friends who are as fucked up as I am are leaving me.

I think I may have to create a whole new page, something extremely clean-cut. You know, something with a Disney background. I would only leave teddy-bear graphic comments with it and talk about how wonderful PBS is but how awful Britney Spears is to young minds. Oh, and I would have to blog on this clean-cut Myspace page that no one should ever...under no circumstances...engage in dirty...sinful...but oh so good...manual stimulation.

I know what you are thinking. Why don't I just politely tell her that I accidentally sent her a friend request. Well, I dunno, I guess I don't want her to feel upset that even though I sent her a friend request, I am now rejecting her virtual friendship. Does this make me an Indian Giver? I doubt she is sitting at her computer screen with bated breath waiting for my reply (but you never know). I don't want to give myself too much credit.

She said maybe we could hang out some time. Well, ummm, we could. I wouldn't mind doing that actually. For someone who grew up with two developmentally slow aunts I know from experience that they too like to have friends and go to the movies, and gossip, and such. My biggest concern is that when her parents see my profile on her friend list, and they will, they're going to freak out at her or to me, and I'd like to avoid both from happening.

Anyway, I'm not sure what I am going to do here, but I'll keep you posted. If you have any suggestions let me know.

Hey, maybe I can start a Myspace page just for this. It could be a community page for individuals who are, you know, slow. They can send friend requests to it and have them be accepted, etc. Parents would be totally cool about it. We could have a parent/myspace coalition. Like the PTA! It could be my 4th job! OMG, someone please stop me now before I do it.

300 Better Be Awesome!

2007-02-21T18:50:00.001-05:00

I can not turn on my computer, or the television without seeing promos for 300. In fact, I can not go to sleep and dream without seeing a picture of Gerard Butler with his 18 pack stomach and his scruffy beard screaming. The promotions for 300, which does look like a good movie, better be just that. A good movie.

No, fuck that. It better be more than a good movie. It better be a "Shawshank Redemption Sucked Ass Compared to 300" movie. Ok?

I'm a fan of Gerard (No, not you Gerard. Don't you have a class to teach right now? - Ok, you're cute too. Happy?) My favorite movie is Dear Frankie, which everyone should see. But then again, I'm a sucker for those kinds of movies. Don't tell anyone. Don't tell anyone that I masturbate to Gerard either (Did I just write that out loud?)

I don't mind seeing him on television every commercial break or everytime I log onto Myspace, but if the movie ends up sucking, someone is going to owe me two hours of my life back. Whoever is responsible; be it Warner Brothers, Zack Snyder, Frank Miller or Gerard himself...I will have to collect.

Why Must People Die?

2007-02-20T16:59:00.000-05:00

I know that you are right now thinking that I am about to write something deep about death and the after-life, but you're dead wrong. Get it? Dead wrong?

Enough.

I feel like Anakin Skywalker right now, declaring that I will one day be the most powerful Jedi who can even stop people from dying. Because if I were that powerful, I would have prevented a death that today, threw a monkey wrench into my plans for tomorrow.

I'm running a seminar, one that I run but don't have to necessarily facilitate. Turns out the person who is facilitating had a death in his family and now I have to facilitate the seminar, which means I have to spend the entire night going over all his source material, slides, etc., so I am comfortable talking about the topic without looking like an idiot and without the seminar participants asking for their $950 tuition back.

This also means that I can't go into Hoboken tonight to have dinner and drinks with my friends.

Argh!

About Nothing in General...

2007-02-19T14:30:00.000-05:00

My treadmill is back. I know what you're thinking. "Where did the treadmill go? Vacation? And why, Mrs. Ferreira, could you not go running say... Outdoors? Was your stepper also on vacation?"

All good questions, to which I have no satisfactory answers, but I thank you for asking anyway.

I had been asking my husband to un-fold (oh, it was folded) the treadmill and take it back out of our office (And, it was in the office) so I could get back to using it. It is once again back in the family room and ready to be used... And abused. Yes, it has a fetish for humiliation. Much like Miss Spears and her new do, or rather, her un-do? (Haha, that was clever)

I don't really understand what the big deal is about a woman shaving her head. She seems to have a nice scherical melon; no odd looking bumps. It's round, as a head should be I suppose. Unlike my head. I am told by my husband, who gives great scalp massages that I have way too many lumps on my head. It appears that I shall never be able to shave my head.

By the way, speaking of my hubby and massages, he gives terrible back rubs. When I give a backrub, I'm told that I do a very good job. So why would he not mimic the things that I do to him, when attempting to give me a backrub? Anyone? Anyone?

I usually get excited that he is expressing interest in releasing some of my stress with a rubdown, but as soon as he starts I just find myself directing his hands to the areas of my person that he is good at rubbing, say... My coochie. Maybe that's his MO, realizing that a shitty backrub will lead to a different kind of rubbing all together. I always knew he was a smart man.

So smart infact, that when my mother came over for a party I had yesterday, and the first thing she said when she entered, was, "Where is your husband? My car is acting funny," he went right outside, looked at the beast (Ford) and determined the problem immediately. See? Smart.

I love wine. I will normally spend anywhere from $9 to $30 on a bottle depending on my taste at the moment. Two days ago however, I was feeling a bit lazy and didn't want to really go looking for which bottles of wine I wanted to pick up for aforementioned party, so I went straight to the back of the store and grabbed a jug of wine. It was enough wine for the 8 ladies who were coming over and then some. I already had bottles of Melot and Pino Nior (my favorite, by the way) so I figured I would be set. The thing about wine is once you open it you really have to finish the bottle otherwise the wine does got bad quickly. It's true.

Well, it turns out that I misjudged the ladies who were coming over. One of them brought her own six pack, which thought was funny because we usually have Molson in the house. The other ladies, including my mom (which was weird) stuck to soda and water. So, unless I want this jug of wine to go bad, I better stop writing and get to drinking.

So... Take care all.

I'm in The Race

2007-02-13T12:34:00.000-05:00

I would like to officially announce my candidacy for Paternal Father of Daniellyn, Anna Nicole's and my love child. I am on my way to New Hamshire as we speak... I mean, I am on my way the Bahamas as you read this. Wish me luck.

Find Your Clit and Find it Now!

2007-02-06T22:58:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I'm going to share with you my lates blog post on my Fantasia Sex Toy Myspace page... At the end I recommend some products. Indulge me, if you will...

I don’t care if you need a map, a compass, and a Tom Tom Navigation System… FIND YOUR CLITORIS.

Your high school, or college anatomy professor might have overlooked the clitoris in his/her lesson plan. Your sex education teacher didn’t even have the clitoris on any of her diagrams or pelvic molds that you might have seen. But, I’m telling you, just because it’s been overlooked elsewhere, it should never be overlooked by you or your partner again. Never overlook it in the bedroom…In the shower…While you’re waiting for the laundry to dry…The cable guy to come…Or, while you wait for your direct TV satellite signal to reboot. I think you should be aware of it all day long if you can.

Why am I obsessed with my clitoris, and why do I think you should be too?

The clitoris has 8,000 nerve endings and unless we have evolved so much that the clitoris once had some fantastic purpose I don’t know about, it’s sole purpose is for pleasure. In fact, we are going to liken it to the man’s penis. Not because it’s funny or because it will make you keep reading, but because it’s true!!! During fetal development, nerve endings will either develop into a penis if there are XY chromosomes introduced, or into a clitoris, if there are XX chromosomes introduced. It is made up of erectile tissue made up of blood vessels and spongy tissue… just like your man’s penis.

So the next time your guy tells you he can’t find it, say, “No problem, I can’t find your penis either.” See how quickly your man turns into Christopher Columbus and embarks upon a journey of discovery.

The head of the clitoris are the glands, which are protected by the hood of the clitoris. (I can just hear the jokes now from all your guy friends. “Hey, can I get under your hood?” Very amusing.)

Anyway, the hood is actually a protective barrier between the clitoris and everything else because the clitoris is so sensitive. In fact, during sex or during masturbation, the erect clitoris can actually retract under the hood to be protected from over stimulation, which is similar to when a man loses the sensation in his penis from over stimulation. Only, he doesn’t have a hood. Another reason why girls rule and boys drool!

Another fun tidbit about the clitoris that you probably didn’t know is that the glans reach all the way back into your pelvis along side your vaginal walls. So, direct head stimulation is not the only clitoral stimulation there is.

Anyway… enough about the anatomy of the clitoris. You want to know how to stimulate it don’t you? Good girl.

Well, if you’re reading this blog, then chances are you already know how, and at least you may have learned some interesting facts, to help you when they finally come out with an X-rated Trivia Pursuit Game.

However, if you don’t know…Manual stimulation: With your hand or fingers is most common. Check it out yourself. Go explore and give it a try. When you find what you like best, let your partner know and don’t be afraid to communication what pressure or what motions you like. Remember, that if you are not turned on, you may need to apply a lubricant.

Oral Stimulation: With uhhh, the mouth, and tounge. Teeth? Eeek that depends on your preference.

With Toys: There are a ton of toys that are useful for clitoral stimulation. I’ve talked previously about Vibrators, so I’m not going to go there. Instead, I’m going to introduce you to the eggs and bullets.

Eggs and bullets are round, or oblong, mini vibrators attached to a remote, which allows you or your partner to manipulate the speed, pulsation, escalation, etc. of the bullet or egg.

The simplest bullet we sell at Fantasia Home Parties is the T-Bullet, which is only about $20 bucks. It works very simply. You use the bullet to stimulate your clitoris, just as you would move your finger on it, you would move the bullet on it. For some it may be too intense, and they would not necessarily move it around as much, but they may keep it in one place until they reach their peak and finish. The T-Bullet packs a lot of power, and comes in a contemporary design. They used to be very industrial looking, and I’m not sure how romantic you can get with something that looks like it should be bought at a Pampered Chef Party instead.

We also sell a dreamy item called the Little Red Devil, which we call the bullet with a brain! It gives you the option of ten different speeds! Yeah, I said TEN! But wait, at the risk of sounding like the “Set it and Forget it” infomercial guy I have to tell you that there’s more. It also allows you to select one of five different pulsating settings. Or… you can pick the one that goes through all the settings in a rhythmic pattern that you’ll never get tired of. This is a bit more money, but it’s extremely worth it. We sell this item for $44 bucks.

The final Egg-like toy I’m going to tell you about (Although we have at least a half a dozen more in our catalogue) is the Jelly Donut, which we sell for just $23.00 I recently passed this gem around at a party, and one of the ladies couldn’t stop giggling at how powerful it was. Of course she bought it, and has raved about it ever since. This is a bullet that you or your partner can use on your clitoris alone… Or, and this is the kicker… you can use it on you and your male partner simultaneously during intercourse. See, it comes with a soft silicone ring that goes around the guy’s penis shaft. The bullet, which is snuggly inserted into the pocket designed for it. This will stimulate your clitoris while he thrusts, and if you like to be on top during the deed, it will easily stimulate your clitoris, as well as his perineum, which is the sensitive area between his scrotum and anus. I’m not kidding. Check it out.

If you are looking for something like the Little Red Devil, and The Jelly Donut, well, we can then talk about the El Toro… But I think I’ve said enough to peak your interest.

Fun with my picture

2007-02-05T23:16:00.000-05:00

Fun with my picture... Sorry, it's all I've got. Too much work to do, that I've taken home with me tonight.

So, tell me. Do my pores look dirty?

The Shitter Was Full

2007-02-02T23:44:00.000-05:00

Ok, so would anyone in the right mind want to drive this closely behind a truck carting two port-a-johns, one of which is open? I'm sure it's clean, but still it makes me think, "Shitter was full!"

I risked my life and license taking this picture at about 75 miles an hour on Route 80. I had to take a couple to get it right.

So Many Questions and No Answers

2007-02-01T23:10:00.000-05:00

1. I don't understand why I keep reading and commenting on a blog belonging to a person who never comments on my blogs? I don't even know if he reads them. I think it's time to stop.

2. I went out of my way to do something nice for an old College friend. She was in a bind, and I used a very valuable ask on her. An ask that I could have used for something else later, particularly after July when I will really need to pool resources. I invited her to something about a week ago, and she still hasn't responded. I just IMed her, and she quickly said goodnight and logged off, giving me the impression that she is avoiding me. Don't get me wrong. I didn't use this resource on her so she would do something for me. I genuinely like to do nice things for people with no expctations for something in return. I just thought she would atleast respond. If the answer is no, so be it. I don't give a fuck, but at least answer me.

3. Why? Someone please tell me why would a woman rub her bloody vagina on a toilet in a rest room of an office building, or any goddamn toilet anywhere? Who the fuck gave that woman the key to the bathroom? That's how my first bathroom trip of the day went. I pee a lot (no, I'm not pregnant). It was still there in the afternoon. Ok, perhaps this woman was on her toes and squatting over the toilet while gripped by her fear of herpes, and perhaps her foot slipped and her bloody vagina came crashing down onto the throne. But, I ask a new question? Why in the name of all that is holy, does this woman not clean her DNA off of the toilet seat. Was she blind? Did she not know she was bleeding? Too many questions and no answers. I'm totally frustrated by this.

4. Joe and I were shocked to hear that our married friends (Nancy and Steve) are getting a divorce because he was cheating on her. Call me old fashioned, but I like the idea of growing old with the man I love. I like knowing that as I change, my husband is there changing with me. This guy actually cheated on her with a 21 year old girl. A GIRL! What does she know? What can she show him? We were totally floored, and at the same time we feel so bad for the both of them. Her for having to deal with the crap that will come her way during the divorce, her broken heart and her broken trust. Him, because he felt the need to pursue a youngling over his beautiful, strong, vivacious, and funny wife of ten years. Obviously he felt there was something he needed that wasn't being provided, and that's sad.

5. Why if you are stood up twice at the alter (well, almost at the alter) would you hold on to those two unused wedding gowns? And why for the third engagement would you not say, "Hey, I spent all that money on those two dresses, I'm going to finally wear one." Why would you want to buy another one? Well, perhaps she'll end up with three in her closet and slitting her wrist.

6. Why am I sitting here blogging about this shit, when my husband is waiting for me in bed? Bye Bye!

I'm a Pusher on The Toilet

2007-01-29T00:21:00.000-05:00

Hi everyone. Hope your weekends were good.

I want to thank Pandrea for being home on Saturday night. As I was driving on the Parkway close to her exit, I frantically called her to ask if she had a safty pin. I never have one when I need one, but at camp, I have a friggin million safety pins all over the place. Go figure. Anyway, I badly needed a safety pin because I was wearing a cousins dress. Not a Cousin's dress, but a cousins dress, meaning the cousins were out. You know, the boobs: Laverne and Shirley? Cagney and Lacey? Man, you're slow.

So Friday night, I bought a great dress to wear to our 98th Gala, which was on Sat. night. It's the bigger fundraiser of the year, and I thought, what better way to ask business men for money, than with my boobs in their face? It's a shiny, red, knee-length dress, which is low cut in the front. Since my hips are a lot bigger than I'd like it leaves a little extra fabric in the boob area. Not that I am flat-chested. Frankly, if I had a small breast size, I would be happy. As long as I was standing the cousins were well clothed, but as I was sitting in my car driving to the gala (event, affair) I realized that my boobs didn't only look a lot bigger, but they looked like they were ready to escape. Luckily, Pandrea (she was once a girlscout) was prepared for such an occasion. Her boobs are big too. She saved my life, and pinned 'em in for me. Yeah, it was hot. You should have seen her with her hands in my dress.

But anyway, I was really going to discuss my pushing on the toilet, so umm, here we go.

Joe, my husband who I love and adore (That's trouble), spends way too much time on the toilet. He's like the dad from Friday, who can sit on the toilet all day. I digress.

He usually wakes up way before me and spends a good twenty minutes on the toilet. When I wake up, I go to the bathroom to shower. I usually hear the shower on so I figure I'll just join him and he can do my back. I try the door knob, but it's usually locked. This means, he is still on the toilet. I will wait a while but usually get impatient, and ask him to push a little bit. Joe doesn't push. Maybe your husband is like this. He thinks that pushing will somehow hurt him later in life.

Me? I sit on the toilet and push like hell. I push like there's a little green alien in my ass who, if he doesn't get out soon, will colonize. Actually, I think my ability to push like a pro is why I'm so good at preventing myself from getting fucked in the ass. (Um, did I just write that out loud?)

I've been pushing my whole life. Maybe it's because I don't want to spend 1/2 hour of my 24 hour day on the throne. Call me weird, but I've got other stuff to do.

And... Why does he lock the door? I can understand not wanting to drop the kids off at the pool with another person in the room. In fact, when I'm at work and another lady comes into the rest room, where I am already on the toilet, I squeeze my sphincter to hold it in, because I don't want to shoot the M16 off with another person in the room. Who does, right? But, if I'm married to him, through good and bad, in sickness and health, surely I can jump in the shower while he's pooping on the other side of the curtain! I won't really smell it over the smell of my body wash anyway, and even if I did, I wouldn't say anything.

I have tried to explain this to my husband who I love and adore (I said that already, didn't I), but without success. At least I can promote awareness here on this blog. I'm sure you will take this info back to your mate and let them know that, Hey, we're in the world and bathroom together. Give it a push and be respectful of my schedule.

Go fowrth and educate.

Introduce Your Man To Your Vibrator

2007-01-25T12:54:00.000-05:00

I am now blogging about sex toys and other stuff Fantasia related on my new Myspace Fantasia blog. I don't want this blog, which I've been keeping up with now for quite sometime to get too-sex-toyish. I don't want to alienate the virgins, prudes, and nuns that read this site. Shut up. I'm sure they're reading. I will occasionally still post about sex toys, because let's face it - that's just plain fun! Anyhoo, the link to my Myspace Fantasia blog is on the right side with all the other cool blogs I recommend. However, for your enjoyment, I have put my first sex toy Fantasia blog here... Enjoy.

I have never heard of a woman leaving her man for her vibrator. In fact, on sick days, I have even seen Divorce Court, and I have never heard "My wife loves her vibrator more than she loves my penis" excuse for divorce.

So, why do women hide their vibrators from their men? I have heard that some men who stumble accross their wife's or girlfriend's vibrators feel insecure, and often ask, "Why do you need that? Aren't I enough?"

I think it's time that women introduce thier men to their vibrators because vibrators don't only have to be used behind closed doors, when husbands and boyfriends are out of the house... Or in the garage... Or mowing the lawn... You get it. In fact, if your idea of an exciting change is doing it on the edge of the mattress as opposed to flat in the center of the mattress, then I would say your lovelife could use a little spicing up.

Many women can not orgasm without some or a lot of clitoral stimulation, and often this can be difficult to achieve during lovemaking. A vibrator used during this lovemaking session can absolutely help. Is a vibrator, more stimulating than a penis? Umm, yes! For instance - IT VIBRATES. Some also have attachments particularly for clitoral stimulation, and some even have rotating head and shafts. Exciting stuff. Helpful stuff.

Why not show your man how to use it to pleasure you, and then maybe he can show you a new way to pleasure him. No more wild nights on the edge of the mattress.

For first-time vibrator buyers, I would recommend something simple, without a lot of bells and whistles. You can get to those later. Fantasia sells many options, but I will suggest, The Purple Pleasure Pal or the Crystal Kit. The Pleasure Pal is a simple, jelly vibe that is waterpoof. The Crystal Kit is a simple 6" straight vibe that comes with two hard sleeves that are shaped for g-spot stimulation. I don't think you can go wrong with either of these.

Here's where I put in something salesy, but I don't want to have that hear becuase it's not that type of blog.

An Uncommited Boyfriend = Unharmonious Everything

2007-01-23T16:36:00.000-05:00

I am writing this post for a friend... Please indulge me.

There is nothing worse that having a boyfriend of a significant time, who also has a fear of committment. A colleague of mine is dating a guy for the past six years. She has lived with him for the past two. They are looking for a house, but it is the search that never ends. Like the "Song That Never Ends," the search is fun in the beginning, but sucks as you go on and on with no change.

Tara wants to get married. She's at the age, where most of her friends are getting married, and even those who jumped into marriage way too early are now on their first or second baby. So, from the outside looking in, it looks like all of her friends, myself included, are getting everything they want out of their relationships. Tara is still stuck living with her uncommitted man, in his brother's house.

Uncommitted Boyfriend = Unharmonious Everything.

I would say that for the past 6 months, Tara has been a real pain in the ass. All she does is whine about her man, who won't shit or get off the pot. She is starting to take it out on her friends, and overall she's unhappy and miserable to be around.

Her boyfriend, we'll call him Dick Gaylord, even though his name is really Pete has a great job. He makes a good salary, better than most people his age. They have been saving up for a house. They have looked. And looked. And looked. Dick wants to live close to his family, something Tara can't sympathize with since she's lived away from her folks since college. His family lives in Verona. It's not the cheapest place to buy a house and Tara would prefer to move to where it's a bit cheaper. Although, she is sooo willing to please this cock-sucker, I mean Dick, that she is willing to go along with his plan to save forever and buy a small-ass house in a bling neighborhood. What Tara wants to know is, does Dick want to marry her. He thinks she should be happy that they live together (in his brother's house) and that they're saving for a house. Well, they've been saving for three years. They have more than enough for a good down payment, and she is ready to really look, btu he is dragging his feet. Now, she'll just settle for a ring... to know that they are going to get married whenever.

Sure, he says he does, but in the past six years, aside from moving her into his brother's house that she cleans, buys groceries for, etc. he has not made any real strides to show her that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.

She recently asked me for advice. I was sooo pleased that she did because boy do I have a lot to say.

First, she loves Dick, I mean Cock-Sucker, or was it the other way around? It doesn't matter. One-in-the-same. She loves him, and treats him with respect. If he's sick, she caters to his every need. She supports him in everything he does. She hangs out with him and his friends even though she doesn't quite enjoy the company of all of his friends.

Dick, on the other hand, has not shown the same dedication to her. He does not treat her like a lady, infact he treats her more like his caretaker. (I wish hospice caretaker). If she is sick, like she was recently, he doesn't even spend his available time with her. He usually second-guesses her decisions and is not very supportive of her. Even though she will hang out with him and his friends, he will not go anywhere near her friends. In fact, every "couple-thing" she is invited to, she ends up declining, because Dick won't go out anywhere her friends are. (Perhaps, because he knows that they will see how shitty he treats her and alert her to this breaking news)

So, I tried to explain to her that she deserves someone who will love, support and appreciate her as much as she loves, supports and appreciates him. It's hard to effectively point out flaws in a person's mate, when they are so in love with them. But, is that the truth? Is she really in love with him? Or... Is she simply used to being with him? I tried to to explain that I was in a similar situation about 7 years ago. I was staying with a guy, who didn't love me the way I deserved to be loved. And, when I think about it, even though I loved, appreciated, and supported him, there was something he needed that I wasn't providing and didn't have the capability to. So, after five long years; three good and two not so good, we decided to mutually part ways... And it was the best thing we ever did.

I knew that after five years, and after he was man enough to tell me that he didn't see himself marrying me, it was time to leave. The longer I stayed with him because it was easy and because I was used to it, the worse I felt. The more I took it out on everyone else. The more miserable I was to be around. The more I asked, "What's wrong with me," when I should have been asking, "What's wrong with us?"

Simply, we were not right for eachother, and his fear of commitment was not a fear of commitment. It was just his intuition telling him that we were not right enough for eachother to take our relationship to the next level, which I am sure would have ended in divorce.

I hope Tara reads this and hears it for a second time. When she asked me for advice, and I gave it to her, the result was not good. She was hurt and embarrassed not by what I said, but by how it made her feel.

Instead of remaining with a guy, who seems to know in his heart and head that he and she are not right for eachother, she should understand that she deserves better. That she is strong enough to make it on her own, even if it requires a little help from her friends, and that he and she will both be better off apart. Not everything has a fairytale ending, but the good thing about endings is that it's an opportunity to Tara to write her own new story.

$700 of Pleasure

2007-01-22T22:48:00.000-05:00

So, I did my first party and I sold $700 worth of sex toys. Pretty neat, huh? Those horny women spent, spent, spent. Surprisingly the top selling items were the candy bras and g-strings. (watch those teeth gentlemen)

I'm looking at this box, and wondering how in the world my fat ass is going to sell this tiny little g-string of candy. Remember those candy necklaces that you used to wear (even if you were a guy...don't lie... They tasted so good), until your neck turned pastel colors and smelled like pixie dust? This is what the g-string was made out of. I only had the g-string, but the bras sold as well.

The other item that seemed to sell quite a bit was the spin cycle vibrator. I guess vibes with lots going on, are well, what's going on.

This was my first party, hosted by my friend... We'll call her Coochy, since this was the first part of the nickname she selected for herself duing the icebreaker I came up with. There were about 16 ladies there all looking for a good laugh and some good stuff.

The other hot selling items were the rings. Cock rings, if you need more detail to understand. I guess there are many guys out there who just can't stay hard long enough. It's ok. Don't hang your head in shame. Just get a cock ring. I sell them on commission.

That's sweet. I can picture my evil grandmother or someone like that chatting with me about my new and third job.

Evil Grandmother: "So you're in retail? What are you selling?"

Me: "Rings, grandma."

Evil Grandmother: "Oh, silver or gold?"

Me: "Latex, Silicone, and rubber. Would you prefer the double ringer or the speed bumps?"

(Yeah, I have an Evil Grandmother. I'd love to tell you why, but some things are just not meant to be shared.)

So, the business is picking up. I actually booked two parties in the past two days, and I got a lead on another that my friend Greg sent me. I asked him if he'd like to be present to help with the demonstrations but I don't think he'll go for that. Especially when he sees the love beads.

Elevator Etiquette 101

2007-01-19T15:27:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's me, but when I'm in an elevator, I try to abide by some sense of elevator etiquette. I don't know if there is an actual elevator etiquette bible or anything, but there should be one becuase it is obvious that some people need one, and by "people" I mean plain old, "people," not a certain people. If you knew where I worked you would understand that comment.

I was in the elevator this morning. A man already inside pressed floor number 2, which, by the by, is the Child Support floor. I'm glad the bastard is finally paying. I guess the paternity test was positive. The elevator arrived at floor 2, and a woman on her hands-free Bluetooth while telling a friend how much money someone owed her using certain lovely words, rushed into the elevator with no regard for anyone who may have wanted to get off the elevator on that floor.

The man getting off, started to walk past her, as she entered the whole time blocking his attempt. Finally, he was able to get around her while I held the door open for him. He accidentally brushed up against her with his bag, and she literally turned to him and said, "Scuuuze me! Psh." Exact quote.

When the doors closed, she called him a dirty mother fucker and looked me square in the eye and said, "I guess he was in a rush. I should have stuck out my foot to trip his ass."

To which I replied, "Well, he was getting off and you gave him no opportunity."

I'm sure as I exited the elevator, I was the new "dirty mother fucker."

I usually wait for everyone to exit the elevator before I jump on. That's just me. The other thing I don't do it talk loudly on the elevator while on my cell phone. This drives me crazy. It's the equivelant of talking loudly on your cell phone on the path train, in a bathroom, or restaurant, etc. Why did god creat texting? So you don't have to talk so fucking loud all the time and annoy everyone.

My third bone to pick is rude people who won't hold the door when they hear someone approaching the elevator doors. I was in the elevator with my own associate, who gave me a dirty look and picked on me when we left the elevator for holding the door another three seconds until the woman down the hall made it inside. For him, it wasn't the three extra seconds, he had to wait. He said it was because he didn't know of what element the person on the way to the elevator was. By Element, he meant "you people."

It all drives me crazy, and that's all I have to say about it. We're all in a rush, we all need to get in the elevator to get somewhere and we'd all like to get there in peace.

The Chatting Scene is well... A Scene

2007-01-15T04:49:00.000-05:00

It's way past my bedtime, and I spent a good two hours chatting on America Online with about five different strangers. I should be in bed right now. I want to be in bed right now... But I feel compelled to blog about said chatting.

You see, I haven't chatted with strangers in at least four and a half years. Probably longer. For the most part it hasn't changed.

I logged onto a NJ chatroom for 20-somethings. I am afterall still 29 for six more months, so I had a right to be there. The first person to IM me out of the blue, was a forty year old man from PA. I told him I was married and he went away. I told everyone I talked to that I was married because chatting seems to be the new bar scene, and I didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression. I wasn't looking for a cheap thrill nor a date. Just wanted to chat. Sweet and simple.

(Let me just preface the rest of this story by saying that I was only in the chat room because I wanted to see what people were talking about and I had really no intention of even talking, when I was IMed by like 8 people... all guys.)

The second guy to IM me, immediately asked what sex, age and my location was. Which I answered... including the caveat that I was married. He still chatted with me. When he asked what I did for a living, I told him vaguely what I did. The third job, of course, caught his attention. He started asking questions, whick I politely answered... until he wanted to know what I was wearing. I wrote, "No, you don't understand I really do sell sex toys and novely items at ladies home parties...I'm not trying to be kinky with you." He understood, but was still trying to ask what I was wearing. I took a pee break and he asked if I rubbed it. It was time to get the fuck out of there!

I decided that I would not tell anyone else that I randomly chatted with this morning about the sex toy business for fear that they would all be jerking off on their computer screens to words like lotions, and cock rings. Sorry, not my bag.

The third guy I was chatting with IMed me becuase he saw where I lived in my profile (Holy shit. My profile? That's right, I have a profile... Which I haven't changed in four years?) I figured I better tell him that I am married since my profile says I was single... I think. Turns out this guy was divorced, raising three kids, and took them all the time to go snowboarding. I'm not sure if that was his MO for meeting girls, but he had pretty good lines. I told him I would pass along a picture of him to my snowboarding friend... But she'll think I'm insane, so I better not. Sorry, my friend, I can't do it. The real kicker in this guys story was that his 7 year old son had a stomach flu and he was nursing him to health. Awww, that would melt any girl's heart. Especially the vomit part.

Ok, the fourth guy was an ok guy. I did most of the talking or, writing. I think when I told him I was married he lost interest, even though he kept indulging me. This guy is from Central NJ. When I asked him what he did for a living, and he said he works with autistic kids, I couldn't help but think of There's Something About Mary. (Is his name Mongo? Is he on a leash?) He might have been legit, though. He has a girlfriend, who isn't the type to be up this late chatting. She likes her sleep, as he put it. I would talk to him again.

The fifth guy was a 32 year old from New York, who when I told him I was married said he was looking for a female friend. Yeah right. I asked him why, and he said he had too many male friends. I asked him why having a female friend would make a difference, and he said he didn't know, but he started writing everything in italic and I didn't know if that was code for, "I'm going to hunt you down and make you my female friend. Have you ever seen Boxing Helena?" (By the way, have you seen Boxing Helena. It's awesome. Check out this review.) So, I got the fuck out of there too.

So... I chatted with five pretty random guys, who all IMed me. The results were all very different. One thing they all did however, was ask to see a picture of me.

I don't get this.

I met Joe accidentally online. We were both in a movie/entertainment chat room, and when I started checking profiles I saw that he lived really close to me, so I IMed him. Three months later we were dating. Two months into chatting with him, he finally asked to see a picture of me. I was shocked at how cute he was... Ahem, he had a lot more hair at that point. I love my bald husband!!! Actually, I think I offered to send a picture to him because I was then curious to know what he looked like.

My point is... We got together, and he didn't ask me one line into a dialogue what I looked like or if he could see a picture? I think that's a real turn off. Most girls don't want someone to like them just because they're hot. Maybe that was Joe's MO. I don't know, but it worked. He go the girl. These guys could definitely learn something from him.

Well, I don't know if I liked my chatting experience to do it again any time soon, but I'll let you know.

About that box...

2007-01-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a bit, and I know you think it's because I have a 58 pound box of sex toys in my guest bedroom right now, but it's not. Truth be told I've blown you off for more mundane reasons. I'm sorry.

I've been working on a powerpoint presentation for the past few nights. I'm giving an important talk on Thursday, and it has to be perfect.

I had two late night meetings during the week that sucked up some valuable blogging time...

And yesterday was my one year anniversary and Joe and I spent the day together, which meant no blogging.

But I am back, and I didn't forget that you were left wondering about the box of joy. Well when I got home Wednedsay night the box was in our foyer. Joe hadn't brought it upstairs because he is so chivalrous and thought I should carry my own 58lb box of sex toys up the stairs. So I did, and plopped it down in the guest bedroom, where one by one, I piled the dildos, vibrators, lubes, lotions, domination products, butt plugs, beads, and rings out on the bed. It was a lot of fun going through all the items and many times I had to call Joe into the room to show him some stuff I know he'd never seen in his life.

Tomorrow we honor Martin Luther King, however I will be in training for this third job of mine, which I start officially on Jan. 21st at my first booked party. I feel pretty good about the products. There's nothing that I don't feel like I can explain how to use. Overall, my only questions so far are about tallying sales sheets, sales tax, etc.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow night.

Don't Bother Me Wednesday Night!!!

2007-01-08T16:33:00.000-05:00

Don't call my cell or house. Don't instant message me. Don't post a comment on my Myspace page and expect an immediate and witty comment posted back. Don't stop by my place unless you bring the lube.

On Wednesday, my kit is arriving in the mail. And by kit, I mean, box of joy. I received a voice mail from a woman at the sex toy company that I am going to be working for. I'm not kidding. Did you think I was joking when I said I was thinking about becoming a home sex toy sales representative? I wasn't. Anyway, since my first party is booked for Jan. 21st and my training date is set up for Jan. 15th, I needed my kit as soon as possible, so they are two-day mailing this sucker to me. Inside, will be over 100 fun items to have on display and share tips and stories about with the ladies at these parties. Yeah, I DO have stories about at least many of these items. Let's not make a big deal out of it.

I am kidding of course, when I say not to bother me on Wednesday night. I have a full nightstand drawer of some of these items and others from other parties and trips to small windowless purple buildings off of Route 10. Every time Joe opens that drawer he is overcome with a sense inadequecy. I'm just kidding. It was just a humorous thing to say. I only said it because I thought it was funny. Seriously. Stop laughing. I'm going to tell Joe on you.

Can you imagine if I did use the kit for my personal needs and then used the same items for the sales demonstrations?

Dildo Lady (me): Ok, and here is the Steel Rider, which is as you can see large in length and radius for those of you with extra large vaginas. I'll just pass it around so you can have a looksie."

Party-Goer: "Ummm, what is this stuff in the little groove here between the shaft and the balls?"

Dildo Lady: "Let me see... Whoa. I think it's ummm, dried yogurt. Yeah, that's it. Now is the perfect time to show you the cleaning solutions that we sell."

Yeah, that wouldn't go over too well. I guess you can go ahead and call me on Wednesday. Feel free to IM, E-Mail or Myspace Comment me, BUT, if you do stop by, do you think you can still bring the lube?

You're the best!

Children of Men...Sucked!

2007-01-07T19:50:00.000-05:00

Well, I am officially banned from picking the movie that we go and see, and by "we" I mean, Pndrea, Barry, Joe and I. Next time I go the movies with anyone else, I still reserve the right to pick it.

First of all, What is the deal with 777-Film? I called and heard on the recording that the movie "Children of Men" was at the Rockaway Mall AMC Theater at 7:50p.m. Pandrea and Barry were at Church having a piece of Christ for me, while I was to go purchase the tickets early in case it was sold out later. The board at the theater only showed 7:20p.m. Well, I didn't know if they would get out of Church in time, so what was I to do. I went shopping instead of purchasing tickets. I know, I have priorities.

Turns out 7:20p.m. worked for them as well.

Joe and I left our house at 7:00 p.m. and made it to the Mall in 7 minutes. Why? Because I did 90mph. Don't tell my Father.

The line for the concession stand was very fucking long. I hope you can picture it. While talking about sex toys, driving 90mph, and some lady who fell down the stairs, I'm sure we provided enough entertainment for the fat guy standing behind us, who I'm sure was getting the extra large tub-o-popcorn with extra butter. (Wait, did we get that?)

Since we spent all that time on line, by the time Pandrea and I made it into the theater we missed all but one preview, which sucks because we found out from Barry that the previews were the best part of the movie.

Ok, so the movie had the potential to be an excellent flick, It had a good cast with Clive Owen, Michael Caine, Jullianne Moore. It takes place in a future Britain, which proclaims itself as the only civil place to live as chaos, viruses, and war have broken out everywhere else. Women are now infertile. (I know some women who should be infertile) In fact, the youngest living person is "baby Deigo" who dies in the beginning of the movie. Jullianne Moore kidnaps her exhusband, Clive Owen, to have him help transport a woman, who turns out to be pregnant, to "The Human Project" which is a group of scientists/activists. He transports this woman through the country-side, a revolution, a prison, etc. to get her to this group.

The movie begins pretty well, scaring the shit out the viewers, and shocking us with so disturbing footage, but it seems to move very slow with dry spots. The shaky cameras worked in Saving Private Ryan, but not in this movie. It was just annoying. The ending was incredibly disappointing, leaving too many unanswered questions.
Turns out, the movie that seemed to go on forever was only about an hour and 40 minutes.

Anyway, I'm not allowed to pick the movie anymore. What do you expect when someone picks a movie because the lead character looks like her hot gynechologist? Only bad things could have happened.

One.. One Year Anniversary... Muah Ha Ha

2007-01-04T01:22:00.000-05:00

In 9 days I will be married for 1 year. A whole year. 365 days for those of you who don't know. And, as I like to say, while slapping my knee, some of those days have been good. Well, most of them. Ok, all of them. Shut up.

Anyhoo, I was laptopping in bed a little while ago. I don't compute. I laptop. You know, that sounds really kinky now that I think about it.

Anyhoo-hoo, Joe crawled into bed, in his boxers and tube socks (I know, you're jealous), and said to me, "Honey, I did something really nice for you today."
He had my attention.

"Did you clean the litter box," I asked. I hoped. I prayed.

"No, I did it yesterday though."

"Ok, I'll do it in a little while... What did you do for me today, babe?"

"I saw that I was not on the schedule to work this Saturday, but I was on for next Saturday and I said No. I put my foot down - for you."

"Why?"

What's next Saturday, honey? Think real hard."

"Our one-year anniversary?" (Ding. Ding. Ding.) "Joe, now that you bring it up, what are we doing for it? Are we going to exchange gifts or anything? I want to know before I run out and buy you an Arnott Devils Jersey"
I'll explain the Arnott Devils Jersey thing at the end... I know the suspense is killing you. Try not scroll down early.)

"No, money is tight. So let's just be together on that day."

"Ok, lets just do something nice for eachother then."

"Something nice?" While looking at me out corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, do maybe I'll rub your feet for you. Something like that maybe?"

To which he climactically replied, and in conclusion of this story...

"No, I want you to rub my balls." (Well, he is a man through and through)

...OK, The Arnott Devils Jersey thing. When Joe and I started dating, Jason Arnott was still playing for the Devils. Valentine's day came around and since Joe and had only been dating for a couple weeks I wasn't sure if I should buy him a gift. If I bought him something and he didn't get me something, he might feel bad about it, and I didn't want him to feel awkward. SO, my solution was to buy him something and keep it in my car. If he gave me something I was going to feign stupidity (not too hard to do) and run to the car to get his gift. We're both Devils fans and our second date was a Devils game and since he said Arnott was one of his favorite players, I knew I had a good potential gift.

Guess what? He didn't get me anything, and I was relieved, despite that all my female friends thought he should have gotten me something. So, I returned the Arnott Jersey and a few days later Arnott was traded, along with Randy McKay to The Dallas Stars (sniffle). Perhaps it was fate?

Anyhoo-hoo-hoo, that was the story.

Thanks for indulging me and pretending to be interested.

The Cock in My Kitchen

2007-01-03T22:58:00.000-05:00

If you had the misfortune of logging onto this blog within the last hour and have read my last blog, which I have deleted, I apologize for the time you wasted. It was a blog written to attempt to tell the story of my unfortunate night last night, dealing with my drunk and depressed father. Nuff said.

Instead, I would like to talk about something lighter, something of more interest and I dare say, more pleasurable.

There is a cock in my kitchen. I married into a Portuguese family, you see. Yes, I am portuguese by injection. That's the corniest statement I've always wanted to say.

Anyhow, and therefor, there is not a real COCK in my kitchen, but a rooster. Every Portuguese kitchen needs one. It is the unwritten law.

When I am cooking, I sometimes stare at it...blow kisses to it...make out with it. I love my kitchen cock.

A Lame New Year's Eve

2007-01-02T02:12:00.000-05:00

I'm not kidding. My New Year's Eve was lame. Then again, what did I expect? I am almost thirty years old, I'm married and the most excitement I get on a given night is catching a re-run of 24, or if we really want to get crazy, a trip to the Cineman 10. I know what you're thinking. Yes, I am a real party animal.

At first I had two options. The first being a trip to afluent Keansburg, where my aunt and uncle were going to have a drinking party. Even though we told them we were coming when we saw them on Christmas Eve, Joe wanted to go to his Brother's house, where his mom, sisters, brother-in-law, and two brothers would be. What to do? The decision was made for us when my mom called to tell me that Aunt Monica and Uncle Frank were going to a Club instead because no one called them to confirm that they were coming. I thought we confirmed on Christmas Eve. Silly me. So, we were down to one option. An option I was not too thrilled about.

It would of course just be all of us sitting around the dining room table, eating, eating, and eating. Anyway, I brought a dessert and even though I wanted to stop at the liquor store to get some hard liquor, Joe didn't want to kill valuable time by making two stops. On the way to Tony's house, we stopped to see my parents, where we had three shots of tequila. Sadly, this would be the highlight of the drinking for the night. I'm not kidding.

We arrived at Tony's house for dinner, which was to be served at 7:00p.m., but alas, appetizers were served at about 8:00 p.m. I was itching for a drink of some sort, when Max (God bless him) offered me a beer. I ended up having two beers. Wow.

I thought for sure that I could convince Max to go to the liquor store with me. At this time it was about 9:00 p.m. Joe convinced him that nothing would be open on a Sunday evening, even though it was New Year's Eve, and he didn't want to go. Tony didn't either. But, I was able to convince Frank to take a drive with me. I would have gone by myself, but then Joe's mom would think I was a lush, so it had to be a team outing. Joe was right. Most places were closed, but I remembered that when I dated a guy in that town before, his father used to always go to the Midland Dairy for beer. We got inside, and jackpot... We decided on Vodka and Cranberry juice.

With liquor in hand, we entered Tony's house feeling like Champions. Ok, that's corny, I know. Joe thought it would be rude for me to have a drink before dinner. Yeah, that's right...it was about 10:00 p.m. and dinner was not being served yet. Despite my going into the kitchen to ask if I could help twice, I was told not to worry and to relax. Hence dinner was very very late. I think we ate at 10:30.

Dinner was over. Great, bring on the vodka.

"Dessert and coffee haven't been served," said my loving husband, who I wanted to kick in the ass with a steel toed boot.

So, it was about 11:45 when we finished dessert, and no one wanted a Vodka and Cranberry. We had champagne at 12:00 a.m., and then I had a Vodka all by myself (sigh), and we went home at about 1:30 a.m.

Now, I know you want to make fun of me... So c'mon, hit me with your best comment.

Just What Does Overnight Mean Anyway?

2006-12-28T20:53:00.000-05:00

Husband: "Honey, if you overnight a package tomorrow (Thursday) will it get there on Friday?"

Wife: "No, I think it will take at least three days."

Husband: "What?"

Wife: "Of course it will get there overnight."

So, Wednesday night, hump night as far as I'm concerned, Joe asks me this rediculous question.

So, what had to be overnighted? The insurance payment for our underground oil tank. Kinda important. It's due tomorrow, and genius hasn't sent in the payment. It's not the type of thing we want to futz around with. Afterall, not many companies will insure underground tanks in Jersey. Thanks DEP. Assholes.

So, it's like $14 and some change to overnight a package from Hopatcong to Oak Ridge. "I ain't doing it," I thought to myself. So, I called Frederick's Fuel and asked what their hours were for Friday morning, so I could bring it by on my way to work. She gives me the Post Office Box number.

(crickets)

Me: "I can't drive to the Post Office Box."

Her: "Oh, silly me. Ok, the address is... Do you know how to get here?"

Me: "I'll Mapquest it."

Her: "So, you get on Rt. 15 North, blah blah blah."

Funny, I thought I said I would Mapquest it.

So anyway, I have a 9:30 a.m. meeting tomorrow and I have to drop this shit off to the dumn lady, and I have to pick up a certain paper for my newsletter on the way to work also. Sure, I'll save the $14 bucks. Thanks Sheri. Asshole.

Speaking of Hump Night... When Joe came to bed, I asked him if he was interested in sex. He wasn't. Apparently he was tired. So, I read a book. At about 4:30 a.m. I finished it, and crawled back into bed. I was going to fall asleep right away, this I knew, but instead I laid there wondering if I should stroke Joe's penis to life and take advantage of him. I didn't. I slumbered instead.

When he was in the shower and I on the bowl (Hey, I wouldn't normally, but I had Indian Food the night before.) I asked him what he would have done if I did take advantage of him.

Me: "If I had stroked your penis to life and forced you to have sex with me at 4:30 a.m. would you have yelled at me for waking you up?

Him: "Of course, but not until after the sex was over."

Well, I know what I'm doing at 4:30 a.m. tomorrow.

My Ass is Paying The Price

2006-12-28T10:37:00.000-05:00

Damn you Dominic and Laura! These are our friends who live a hop, skip, and jump from us that we ought to hang out with more often. Last night they called Joe and invited us to dinner at the Clay Oven. I love Indian Food, and since The Clay Oven is the only Indian cuisine restaurant near us I had been meaning to check it out.

Dom and Laura walked in with beer - no liquor license. I was, however, sticking with water. I knew better. You see, when everyone else was ordering their food mild, I was piling on the hot.
This morning I paid for it. That Shrimp Vindaloo was sooo worth it though... Even if my whole ass did explode the next day. It's all about sacrafices, people!

What have you sacraficed for lately?

DOOM Isn't Really A Good Movie?

2006-12-26T21:17:00.000-05:00

When the movie Doom came out in theaters I swore I would not go see it because I was certain it would be a terrible flick. Well, about three weeks ago it was on HBO and I sat through it and LOVED it. I couldn't believe that I really enjoyed it. At first I thought I enjoyed it because it was the type of movie you really didn't need to use your brain while watching.

Clearly this is true. It's a bunch of Marines running around dark corridors shooting at mutant monsters. Was it the plot? Not really. In fact, there's really no plot to speak of aside from a brother and sister who haven't kept in touch. He's a Marine, a profession he turned to because he didn't want to end up an archeologist, like his father who was killed at a dig site on Mars. She's an archeologist who re-opens the dig on Mars. They are reunited when freak mutants start killing the scientists who turn out to be the very mutants they've created. Intrigued? - - ok, so it does suck.

I watched it again to recall why I enjoyed it so much. Was it The Rock. Ummm, I think not. Was it the screenwriting? Nay. Was it the special effects? Nope, they're really not that great.

Oh, now I remember. It's Karl Urban. Ladies, I'll just leave you with this pic of him. Drink it in.

Wait? You're not convinced that he's hot enough to make the movie Doom worth seeing? How about now?

Ok, I can see you're particular. Are you a Masochist, like me? Perhaps this pic of him in Chronicles of Riddick will help set you straight?

ok, so you don't like it rough. That's your loss. Well, you know what? Forget it then. Don't rent it.

Can You Please Pass The Crack?

2006-12-21T11:25:00.000-05:00

So Jeff and I went to dinner last night. For those of you who don't know Jeff, he is not my husband, nor is he the "other man" Although Jeff, I gotta tell you, if I were to cheat... Ok, just kidding.

Anyway, Joe went out with a bunch of the guys from work for a little holiday get together, so I called Jeff and we hit the town. Well, we didn't hit the town; we only really hit the Okinowa Steakhouse by our houses.

First of all, all I could think of was the Christmas Story, because here we are close to Christmas day and we're going to a Japanese restaurant. I kept visualizing in my mind's eye, the Japanese servers standing around singing, "Fa Ra Ra Ra-Ra Ra Ra Ra Ra" and serving us duck.

So, there was not a soul in the place. So, we sat at the hibatichi by ourselves and agreed that we had to be extra animated and excited when the guy came out to cook for us becuase we were the only people in the place and we didn't want him to feel like a loser. To our satisfaction, in walked another couple moments after we placed our order.

Immediately, "Shot through the heart and you're to blame..." came to mind as I took my first good look at the guy of the couple because he was clearly stuck in the 80s with his rocker t-shirt on and feathered hair. It may not have been feathered, but it ought to have been. The woman; she was so skinny and she had the biggest boobs with the largest perky nipples I've even seen bulging forward. It wasn't even cold in the place. Even after the cook fired up the hibatchi, the nipples didn't soften. It was certainly distracting to me, and based on the conversation with Jeff later that night, it didn't escape his sight or constant thoughts throughout the meal either.

So, the cooking and eating ensued and all was pleasant, until the conversation with this couple began. He's from Jersey, and she is from Jersey but lives in Florida. And although, she hates him, she continues to come up to spend time with him becuase they have a love/hate relationship. She hates him. She said this at least two or three times, with a large smile on her face. They then proceded to argue about the types of arguments that they've had along the years and I thought they were going to throw down right there. I was totally ready to pop some pop-corn and shout "Jerry! Jerry!" But alas, no fisticuffs. The she started laughing about the time that she stole his Geo Tracker, and he brought up the time she gave away his Cowboys jacket which had $300 in the pocket. Good times.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder or funnier, she begins to tell us how she loves aligators. "They're so cute," she said while standing on unsteady feet and wobbling back and forth. She had a cast on her leg as well.

She continued, "I just love to feed them. There was a guy who was down at the water smoking crack and an aligator came along and took his leg off. When the cops asked him what he was doing down there, he just told them he was smoking crack. What an idiot!" Giggle. Giggle. All I could wonder was, is this her autobiography?

Our new friends left the Hibatchi and were on their way to the movies to see Rocky Balboa. Jeff and I decided that although we were on our way to the theater as well, we would not go see Rocky because with our luck, we would have to sit next to them, and right in the middle of round 12, I would have to lean in and ask, "Can you please pass the crack?"

So, we ended up going back to my place and watching Kingdom of Heaven, which I love. It was the Director's cut. It's very long, which is good becuase I think it took Joe (my husband makes an appearance in the story) at least three hours to boot up my laptop.

Anyway, Tis the season to make new weird friends.

"We Know Your Time is Valuable"

2006-12-20T16:12:00.000-05:00

"We know your time I valuable. Thank you for holding. Assistance is just moments away..."

This is what I heard, oh... fifty times while holding to speak to a banquet manager at a facility I am hosting an event at in June. Unfortunately, when I can recite in my head, the entire hold recording and the exact tune of the music in between I don't feel like they know how valuable my time is. Instead, I feel like blogging.

So, here I am holding. I could call back, but what's the use?

Questions Abound

2006-12-19T23:16:00.001-05:00

1. So, the Cookie-Man doesn't like me anymore. Did I not douche or something? I have an appointment to see him this Thursday. It's not like I was really looking forward to going to the gynechologist, but I did plan on doing my hair that night... And not the hair you think. (Eww)

I came home and hit play on the answering machine to hear, "This is Dr. DePasquale's Office. You have an appointment for Thursday, and we need to reschedule it."
So, I guess he wasn't as excited about our appointment as I was. It's ok. I'm not bitter.

2. Where is the fucking snow? It's December 19th and no snow on the ground or in the forecast. What's the use of having a terribly steep driveway that sucks to shovel if you can't suck to shovel it? The year we bought the house it snowed and snowed and snowed. See, look at the photo. That's Joe shoveling our driveway the week we moved in. Doesn't it look like a painful driveway to shovel? Well, we wouldn't know this season.

3. Why do grown men still giggle when a woman refers to her nipples in front of them. Joe's cousin's husband was just at our house to pick up their cat, who we were cat sitting for the past two weeks. He told me a long story about his mom and how she has breast cancer. We go outside, it was cold, and I told him that I was heading inside because "any more of this chill and my nipples would get so hard they would hurt." He couldn't stop laughing because I said nipples. I don't get it.

Herpies Epidemic

2006-12-19T22:25:00.000-05:00

Excuse the title. I had to get your attention, since I have not posted in a week. I was going to blog about an alleged herpeies epidemic in Hudson County Schools, but I have not yet found further proof. But, just in case, if you're a parent of say, a wrestler in a Hudson County school, maybe wash his jock strap a second time in hot water. I'm just suggesting, that's all.

I've been busy, very busy. You know, spreading cheer.

I love a good fight. There was a time that I would avoid confrontation. For the most past, I still do. But when you are as straight-forward as I am, some people (yes, I said 'some people' and didn't mean a certain people) just can't handle the truth. (A Few Good Men - they don't play that on TV enough.

I am gearing up, early, to be the President of an organziation I belong to. My term begins in July, but I am officially installed on June 25th. The current President is, how can I quite put this without hurting her feelings? She's a disaster. She adds to the reason why men didn't want women in this organization for years. The past 6 months have been unorganized chaos, and I don't want to inherit a failing organization so I have started to delicately put my ducks in a row. There are a few people who won't be reinstated as Chairs of certain committee and... Well, I am up for the fight. There are small club politics that come into play here and I am getting mentally ready for it.

I'm sure I'll be blogging all about it after June 25th. I will have to vent somehow.

But, for now, I'm back and will be blogging again regularly now that my Christmas shopping is pretty much complete. Now, I just have to catch up on all of your blogs.