My poor sister Amylynn is hopefully fast asleep right now, and I promised to fill in for her tonight. Her mom had emergency surgery last night and Amylynn hasn’t had any sleep. Mom is ok now, but they are both exhausted.
I, on the other hand, have been desperately trying to find something worth blogging about. I really don’t know how Amylynn does it.
So here’s what I found. This is my new favorite site…damn you auto correct! Most of them are hilarious, yet not paste-able on this site, but here is one that I can show you…
See what I mean? It’s even funnier if you have a friend with an iPhone that sends you bizarre texts. Go take a look, it really will get you laughing. And make sure your kiddos aren’t around. For some reason, whoever loaded the autocorrect dictionary in the iPhone was a dirty bird. You’ll see what I mean.
Hopefully Amylynn will be back tomorrow. And rested.
Our dearest blogess, Amylynn, did not forget you. I called her this morning, becasue in the absence of a blogpost last night, I was concerned about her. Turns out she WAS in fact sick yesterday. And though she was at work when I spoke to her, she had gone to a minute clinic and been diagnosed with Strep throat! I hope my sister is sleeping soundly at this moment.
Something has me curious. You know how people have friendships? I think women have the art perfected. I don’t know what I would do without my female friends. They know everything there is to know about me. If I hit a snag, if I am down, if I am totally confused about life, they know me well enough to advise me, to suggest solutions that I get, because they know me.
They know my weaknesses. My strengths. They know what makes me laugh, what makes me cringe and that I love tie-dye, even if they don’t. They don’t mind that I never saw Grease, or that I don’t like sports. They let it pass that I’m not that into pirates, but crave The Doors. They even encourage my crazy ideas. They know my deepest wishes, even though they don’t share them, and they ALWAYS hope for the best for me.
So here is what has me curious.
Men don’t have that. At least, with my bachelors degree in a scientific field, I have no evidence of it.
I have overheard man conversations, between men that are life-long friends. Between men that supposedly KNOW each other. (I apologize in advance to men who have real friendships, but you are unique among the man world.)
Most men, talk about movies they loved in high school. They talk about music. They talk about some sports team that is a)doing well, b)not doing well, or c)when they last did well.
They talk about strange people that they work with. They talk about going to Vegas.
They talk about women, but not real women. They talk about women’s body parts. Who looked how whenever they saw her last. How short the skirt was. Bla Bla Bla.
But men don’t seem to know anything about how other men feel. Which to me seems kind of sad.
So I have dubbed these relationships “manships”. Because what use are they? A bunch of just hearing each other talk about random things sprinkled throughout their lives. Most of which just seems as if it’s trying to be boastful. Deep Sigh.
If only they knew what it could be like.
Oh. That’s right.
They do. My husband overheard me talking for over an hour to Amylynn one night, and was entirely too disturbed that we had such an in-depth conversation about everything.
So I guess that’s what has me curious. Wouldn’t you want someone else outside of your brain to actually know you?
So I do ALOT of driving. It’s about an hour to just get to my daughter’s school to pick her up, then with traffic, a little over an hour to get back home. And because I’m a captive audience in my fuel efficient car with no XM radio, no CD player and nary an iPOD adapter to be found, I get to listen to the commercials.
You know what there is alot of lately? Dating site advertising. There’s the typical ones we are all familiar with, where they seem to think they can find you your soul mate because of a complete profile check and a 100 question personality test. And in our town, there’s even the ones that you wonder if they’re really matching at all. They sound more like booty-call sites.
It got me to thinking this world of finding one’s soul mate isn’t all that complex. Aren’t there really just a group of maybe 10-12 questions you really need to know the answer to? Forget the soul mate part. If you grow to not be able to stand the other person, no matter how blissful it was when you were dating, don’t you ever look back and think “I totally wish I would have known that ________ would get on my final, frayed and threatening to break,ever lasting nerve after 15 years!”
So while driving, at the stoplights, I started jotting down the only things that really matter. Here is my revolutionary approach to dating.
Circle your preference out of each pair!
Dog or Cat?
Heavy Metal or James Taylor?
Coke or Pepsi?
Cloudy with a chance of rain or Sunny all the frickin time? (Sorry, that was my own emotion butting in…it won’t happen again.)
Green, lush, deciduous, seasonal surroundings or Bare, brown, dry river bed, HOT desert?
Sports or Poetry?
Wine or Beer?
Taco Bell or SOMEWHERE NICE? (Sorry again)
Art Gallery or Strip Club?
Paris or Cancun?
Laundry Basket or Floor? (think about it…)
Jennifer or Angelina? (Again, think about it. It truly matters, trust me…)
SO There! Not so bad. 12 questions to a perfect partner. Maybe I should start a Quill Sisters Dating Site.
I can’t wait for another 3-4 hours in the car tomorrow…
I had to post this. Amylynn’s story of Sassy’s excitement moments before the surprise party she threw for her Honey brought this Saturday Night Live skit to mind. Christopher Walken is in it too, which makes it all the better!
So I had been thinking about having to blog all day. And most of last night – when I should have been gleefully asleep but was somehow unable to curb the anxiety of what to write next. But then I had an epiphany.
And my epiphany was summarily squashed by the ridiculousness of owning a computer.
I opened my computer 97 minutes ago, thinking of the entire 60 seconds it would take to get logged in to the blog and have my way with her. Ahem, let me note the time NOW, when I was able to log into the blog, at NINETY SEVEN MINUTES later.
Really??? Ever had the same experience? Here’s how it goes for me.
Wow, I have exactly ten minutes before I need to drive for an hour to pick up my daughter at school. That leaves five minutes to check in on the blog, maybe two extra minutes to check in on facebook and three minutes to fire off those emails. Here I go!
1) 1:00 pm Open the computer. It looks friendly; inviting even. It wants to email, post and blog!
2) 1:02 Oh bleep. It looks as if it UPDATED last time I shut it down. Why the hell do I let it do that???
3) 1:02 and 1/2 Oh yeah. Because it made me.
4) 1:03 Oh great. Black screen.
5) 1:07 FINALLY. My desktop. Now, I’ll just click on the Internet option and we’ll get down to…WTF? Three minutes is all I have left???? GOD I hate this thing. Oh sure adobe. Go ahead. Update. Yeah, you too flippin java. Because it’s been a whole flippin TWO DAYS since you last got a piece of me…You too Norton? Hate to be left out of a party, do ya? Well go ahead. It’s not like I had anything to do on the computer. SHEESH…
6) 1:14 Yep. Seven minutes later. I cant take it anymore… I am already late. I have to click on the internet option. MUST click. Why isn’t it doing anything? Oh, for the love of god. Let’s try this once more you beast. CLICK. CLICK CLICK. CLICKCLICKCLICK!!!!!! Great. Now it’s frozen. PERFECT!
7) 1:20 “Come on you prissy ?&$%^!!! I don’t have all day for foreplay!!!!” (ok, sorry, that was uncalled for. but you know you’ve been there…)
8) 1:22 Oh, thank god. An internet window finally opened!!!!!! With my cursor poised for attack on my favorites link, I await the hasty departure of the thinking swirl (hourglass, or whatever you have it as. I refer to it as the middle finger. I wish they would just make it look like a middle finger.) Alas, it keeps swirling.
9) 1:24 Are you KIDDING me??? Just how many internet windows do I really need open? There are 8 windows trying to open my excruciatingly annoying home page. Right click; close. Right click; close. Right click; close….
10) 1:27 CRAP!!! I need to LEAVE!!!! I am gonna be late! CTRL+ALT+DEL. Where the hell is my task manager??? Probably on some stinkin’ vacation. Look at that. Big Surprise. Frigid $%*@# is frozen again. “Are you vacationing in Alaska you freak???”
11) 1:30 Mother F&#%$%&* Bleeping BLEEP!
AHEM. Wow, it’s amazing how much better that all makes me feel. PHEW.
I have no idea what I actually intended on writing anymore. Maybe Amylynn was right. I think I need to take notes. And some Ginkgo Biloba. That helps with memory, right? Oh hell, I don’t remember…
SO I am here. I am not even close to being a natural blogger. I tried once, but I really lack for things to say.
But I promised. I seem to have plenty to say when I call Amylynn with ridiculous little stories. In her bloggy niceness, she even tells me which stories are blog material as I relate them to her. But here, I can’t even remember one of them. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe I like to whine.
I have had quite the upheaval of circumstances over the last year, but one thing remains steady. My poodle is a nightmare. Well, two things, really. My daughter is as sweet as can be. And she is on the prowl for a new pet. Somehow, in a conversation back in JULY, my husband told her that she could have a new pet when she turns 7. (In addition to the demon poodle and the angelic aquatic turtle, of course.) But at the time of the ‘promise’, she was 5. She has only recently turned 6. This alarming set of circumstances has resulted in the following daily torture:
A) We live FAR from where she goes to school. Every morning on the way, and every afternoon on the way back, she asks to talk about pets. And we have done so since AUGUST.
B) ALL pets are debated daily. Through research, we have ruled out guinea pigs (who eat their own poo), parakeets (not fond of being held), hamsters (stinky and difficult to clean up after), rabbits (waaay to much poo and maintenance), a tortoises (just for now because we need to work on our yard), a fish (because they don’t live for long), iguanas (salmonella…hello?), a pony (absolutely not), a goat (over my dead body), tarantulas (they really should be free), gerbils (apparently not as stinky as hamsters, but just as messy), parrots (noisy, messy and very long lived), ferrets (really?), a baby cow (we’re lactose intolerant), chickens (too frickin loud), another dog (unless it eats the poodle), cats (we’re allergic, thank god), a sugar glider or an owl (1)not real pets, 2) nocturnal), a blue poisoned dart frog (ummm, poison), a scorpion (she really wanted one. Ummmm, let me see….NO), a fire-bellied toad (again, toxic-ish), a veiled chameleon (doesn’t like to be held; it stresses them out…who can blame them?) and a blue-tongued skink (not a big fan of being held either).
C) We are down to our final three. 1) Bearded dragon. 2) Ball python. 3) Corn snake.
D) God help us. I just asked my husband yesterday if we could end this and buy her a pet for Christmas because…
E) I can’t take another year of discussing pets everyday for multiple hours.
But it makes her happy. And I know that as soon as I get her a snake, she will start the campaign for when she turns 8. And I know that I will give in again and not make her wait.
She is very gifted with animals after all. It is her thing.
So there is my ditty for the day. I am already nauseous at the thought of coming up with something for tomorrow.
Damn you Disney!!!
I think the world has jiggled on it’s axis…
I recently bought my little daughter a new Barbie. If you have shopped for a Barbie lately, you are probably aware of these mortifying changes. And honestly, she already has 23 Barbies – but all of the princess persuasion. Only a couple are random, just in a dress Barbies. Which brings me to this one.
She saw it from her 5 year old level at the Mega Fry’s we frequent; it was on the top shelf – the one that warns to ‘ask for help for items from this shelf’ – and with the perpetual hurry of my nature, I grabbed it, then went to the TP aisle, then the wine aisle THEN the produce section. The whole way home she asked if I would open it.
But there are 367 rubber bands and twist ties holding the lass in the box, so the lass had to wait until I got her home to use the heavy duty scissors to release her from her jiggle-free existence (yes, that IS the second time I’ve used the word jiggle in this post). It was the very moment of her freedom from said box that I noticed…
Her ‘gown’ was painted on her torso. PAINTED. With glitter and purple dust. Then there was a skirt that flared from her hips. My thumb immediately smeared of a spot of the fake bodice. And my daughter immediately said “OH! Her breasts aren’t in her gown!”
“No. No they aren’t. And good job calling them ‘breasts’ pumpkin!” I said cheerily.
No wonder Ken left the picture. Would you want your girlfriend to wear painted-on clothing? Nevermind…don’t answer that.
In public? On the shelf of every store in the world? Forget the Barbie dream house. Forget the Barbie Corvette. I am on team Ken. Team Barbie can go to some nudie beach and paint their clothes on.
I can’t wait until the Barbies have pierced nipples and tattoos.
Hello fair readers! So this an update on the disappearance of Isabella Ross. I didn’t disappear, I just had an identity change! Isabella Ross was strictly a writing name, and being that I am soon to be published (!!!) I have taken the golden advice of Julia Quinn and kept my first name–the real one; Kelli. And though I wanted to keep the Ross, it wan’t working for me. So I picked up my grandfather’s middle name as a writing surname. I hope you all like it! I am very excited. I look forward to the day when I have fans calling out my name and I actually know that they’re talking to me! What do you think?