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Showing posts from September 25, 2011

Just Pull Forward: before I crack you over the head with my Starbucks.

And because you all know school drop off / pick up circles are the bane of my existence I have created a Facebook Page dedicated to the complex rules of the entire phenomenon. It's called Just Pull Forward and I invite each and every one of you to share your experiences, lest you blow your top and go psycho on some poor soul in the drop off zone, thus ruining your child's chances of ever receiving play date invitations ever again.

I'm not entirely sure what makes them so complicated. They seem simple enough. Pull in, kid gets out, drive away. Or, if you're picking up - which, granted can be slightly trickier since kids aren't exiting school in the exact order as the cars are lined up - you pull in, wait until your kid hops in, and then drive away. And if the car in front of you drives away -- and this is the tricky part -- you just pull forward (even if you're kid isn't in the car yet). The reason you do this is to make room for the car waiting behind you.

Bullies thrive wherever authority is weak.

I was about 16 years old when the house phone rang and my mom said it was for me. I answered, excited like any teen would be to have a friend calling. Except this friend - a girl I had known for years; I had been to her house to play and she to mine - the words she used were cruel. Threatening. And I didn't understand why. As quickly as she began, the call was over. I stood there stunned. Replaced the phone on the hook and walked silently to my room, never saying a word to my mom who stood just steps away.

It was hell at school the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Days turned to weeks.

I was threatened, called names, followed into the bathroom. Not just by the first girl, but by a second as well. Girls I thought I had no quarrel with. [Apparently, they thought I had found out something about them and were afraid I would tell. Except I really didn't know anything about it until they don't me during threatening me. Der!]

It didn't matter though. …

We're not done yet....

I need a colonoscopy. I know you know this because I already told you about it. Because that's how I roll. Anyway. The first odd thing that happened occurred over lunch. At work. When I was asked in a hushed voice if I needed it because of constipation. And I was like, uh.... no. I would take an enema or a stool softener for that. Again, uh.... no. But you're close.

The first step of the process was to meet with a specialist. And I had all the information printed out for me on a piece of paper. The information included the name of the doctor, the date and time of the appointment and the building the appointment (and the doctor) was located in. It would help immensely if that information was correct. Because pulling up to the valet in a violent downpour one does not want to hear well, that building is located clear across the city. And, knowing there's no way I can get clear across the city in fifteen minutes, I call, ready to cry and complain and reschedule, only to find o…

Baby's got his blue jeans on!

Big V and I went out in public this weekend and he decided to wear his best jeans. He likes them because they're baggy and long. Meaning that when he sits down the pant legs don't get pulled up into that elusive dorkus zone.

So he comes out in these:


And I tell him there is no possible way these can be his best jeans. But he insists they are. And I say, no, no they're not. And the 16-year old Fashion Diva also says no, no they're not. But he keeps insisting they are.
And so I took a picture (see above) and showed him and he said, "well... they aren't that bad" and I said yes, yes, they are. Because no matter how longish they are in the front they're stupidly short in the back. And I asked how the jeans got that way, which he shrugged off and said simply "the dog got them." Then he promised they'd look better with shoes. 

Except they didn't.

Guess who's getting jeans for his birthday?