Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Through this blog I've had met and spoken with many women that are in similar situations as me. Whether the similarity be cannon balling into motherhood by becoming a step-mom; convincing your friends that your new and older husband is not going through a mid-life crisis even though he's grown a mustache, gotten an earring and all he needs is a parrot to have the striking resemblance of a pirate; or being the second wife of the man you love and learning how and where you make it all fit.
It amazing the amount of women in one of these clubs. You will find endless blogs, websites and advice columns talking about these things. I think we have a longing to find people that can relate to and understand our daily lives. Many of the situations I've read about, I can easily relate to them. But, I have noticed a huge difference between my situation verses the many women who have reached out to me to tell me their story or give me a piece of advice. This difference is, how we feel about our husband's ex spouse.
Call me lucky but, I have a great relationship with EW(ex-wife). She's funny, smart, beautiful and a great mom. Sure, there are things I could stew in, like many of you (child support, the past relationship with the hubs etc) but why do that? I PROMISE you ladies, it is so much better than running around bitter calling your husband's ex a "vindictive sack of silicone". But, to have this kind of relationship with his ex, it has to begin with your husband. He has to establish a good relationship with the EW for you to have a good relationship with her. Don't be jealous and say things like, "I don't want you talking to that woman that has so much collagen in her lips it looks like she got stuck in a pool drain". REALITY CHECK: If they've got kids together....they gotta talk! They have a responsibility to parent their children. Just because they got a divorce, doesn't give them a free ticket to be an out-of-touch, self-absorbed parent.
For the sake of your step-kids, your husband and Pete's sake, YOUR SANITY, encourage a healthy relationship between the two of them. No, a healthy relationship is not giving each other back rubs because they "know" the spot where he carries his stress. I would go all crazy little dog territorial on a situation like that, but a strong parenting relationship that is not harsh and abrasive is needed. But your husband needs to know it's okay with you to have a relationship with his ex. And if they have a good relationship, your relationship with the EW will blossom and may just even turn into what I have, a true friendship.
Kids are smart. Have you ever had them ask you, "Are you and mommy friends"? I'm assuming the answer is "yes". See, they crave for the two most important women figures in their lives to care for each other. That way they don't feel like they are caught in the middle and constantly having to choose a side.
Yes, divorce isn't ideal and it doesn't seem fair to have to "share" your husband. But, do a google search and you will see just how common these type of life situations are. I know I'm not the all knowing Second Wife of the year, (although I do love getting trophies and will be happy to give you my address if you want to send me one .just have it say 1st Place on it .that's very important) but I thought I would share what works for my family and how easy it has been. It makes me sad to read your stories about the struggle you go through in your situations when it truly doesn't have to be that way. It is actually possible to have a great co-parenting relationship.
Then you wouldn't have to drown your sorrows by drink the entire alcohol consumption of Motely Crue. That would be a GOOD thing!
Friday, March 26, 2010
It's been quite a week in the Gardner house hold. Mark's very expensive yet ironically a piece of crap car broke down (while my low line, no tinted windows, lucky to have automatic locks, Chevy works great- ah thank you very much).
"Class, can any one tell the teacher what happens when a very expensive yet ironically a POC vehicle breaks down?"
That's correct. It basically takes away all your fun money you had saved for ahhh I dunno-hair extensions, David Yurman, a trip to the Bahamas and funnel cakes and makes you buy some weird part called an alternator. And because this very expensive POC is "special" it's about 3 million times more expensive than most alternators.
So my poor honey had to deal with his car and then, baseball practice happened.
Mark had a little run in with a kid in a baseball bat. Mark was all like, your momma so fat she sat on a rainbow and skittles popped out. And the kid fired back and said well, yo momma so hairy she looks like a chi-chia pet with a sweater on. And Mark was all like, Don't be talkin 'bout my momma and the kid just came at him with a baseball bat. It was crazy. Dust was flying. The cops were called. Mark rolled up in a ball and cried out to God for help....
Okay, so maybe that's not the real story. But he did get hit with a ball and a bat whilst being a good dad and assisting his son's baseball team.
Needless to say, we had a great time watching a re-run of Oprah in the E.R. Poor Bucket-head.
He was tough and put on his big-boy pants and acted like a macho-man. He even got up this morning and made his family a pancake breakfast.
All that to say, TGIF! And with every Friday comes, Five Random Facts about the Blogger of The Spilled Milk Saga, yours truly, ME!
So lets get to it, shall we?
1.) I loose the lid to anything and everything. Toothpaste? It's just a matter of days until the cap disappears. You know how there is a magical mystical place where all the lost socks in a dryer go? I think there is a magical world of lost lids because I can't figure out where in the world they go. It's on of the major mysteries in this world....kind of like the Bermuda Triangle.
2.) Speaking of toothpaste, I don't floss. I always say that I'm going to pick it up and I go out and buy really cool flossing tools, but the motivation only last a few days. Andrea-don't yell at me.
3.) I believe a woman should learn how to fix a car but act stupid so a man will do it for her. But, at least she'll know if he's doing it right. This rule of thumb goes for a number of things- changing light bulbs, hanging curtains, unclogging the disposal, plunging a toilet etc. etc.
4.) My childhood love died last year. His name was Patrick "make me sweat" Swayze. From the moment I laid eyes on him doing the cha-cha in Dirty Dancing, I knew he had to be mine. I was actually really sad when he died. One of the things I adored most about him was that he had loved the same woman for over 30 years. That kind of love and marriage is so rare in Hollywood. It made him one in a million.
5.) It is very difficult going from single-to-married-to-divorce-to-single-to-married. No, not emotionally. It's all these last names I've accumulated!!! I start breaking out in hives and sweating when someone ask me to verify my last name. I don't know whether it's under, Jennifer Porter; Jennifer Robinson; Jennifer Porter-Robinson; Jennifer Gardner; Jennifer Porter-Gardner; Jennifer Porter-Robinson-Gardner. Ahhhhhhhh! I will be so happy when I finally get everything over to just: JENNIFER GARDNER. Now that will be marital bliss!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Reality Show Reality…REALLY!!
This blog is difficult for me to write. Difficult for many reasons. To begin with, I am acutely aware that Jen’s entire family reads her blog with regularity and aside from the fact that I crushed my new mother-in-law’s big toe with a fastball baseball throw that missed my son’s glove (whilst visiting the Spring Break), I think otherwise I’ve made a decent impression. Second, I pride myself in being a ‘manly man.’ All that means is that I live by a code: “What Would John Wayne Do?” This means I avoid the ‘metro-sexual’ trend, manicure/pedicures, wearing anything pink, or eating at La Madeline. Finally, I like to think of myself as intelligent enough to avoid mindless television shows, especially any show considered “reality TV.”
I can say, with pride mind you, that I have NEVER watched an episode of “Survivor,” “Dancing with the Stars,” “America’s Next Top Model,” “Jon and Kate plus Eight,” “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” or anything remotely similar. In fact, until Jen and I married, I had never even watched a single episode of “American Idol.” Generally, I have no interest in any of it – because to me, it’s all scripted, overly drama-laden, ridiculous, and contains idiotic people who ordinarily wouldn’t (and frankly shouldn’t) get a second moment’s consideration were it not for their ’15 minutes’ of supposedly “REALITY” TV fame. I’ve never seen even a passing glance of Reality TV where someone wasn’t crying, yelling, screaming, making out or hitting someone. Listen, I get enough of that in everyday life!!
So, I am very embarrassed to admit that even though I give Jen SERIOUS grief for rotting her brain with “The Real Housewives of New Jersey,” The Real Housewives of Orange County,” and “The Real Housewives of Sioux Falls, South Dakota,” I have to admit this: as I leave the room with an “I’m-superior-and-too-smart-for-such-mindless-dribble-TV” air about me – I often find myself lingering at the refrigerator, or the doorway, or somewhere in the room where I can catch a little longer glimpse of the show she is watching. It’s true. I hate to admit it. It makes me so mad at myself that I have to admit I knew what was going on this season on “The Bachelor” (Jake made the wrong choice in selecting that hussy he chose). I still can’t sit in the room during an episode of “Bridezilla’s” without wanting to punch a kitten, but yet I somehow feel that the clothes on the couch urgently need folding when she’s watching “Millionaire Matchmaker.” It’s crazy. It’s like watching a train-wreck. No, worse – like watching a train-wreck into a car-wreck which contained Paris Hilton. I just have to watch.
Jen and I have used our TiVO like it’s going out of style – we have 4-5 shows we watch with regularity (“The Office,” “Modern Family,” “24,” “The Marriage Ref”) – something that also pains me to admit (I used to take pride in stating, “I don’t watch that much TV” whenever someone asked me if I saw “Survivor” last night), but I realize that I don’t really have room to give Jen grief when, on any given Fall Saturday, I can watch college football for 4 hours, including cheering for schools I never attended or have even been on their campuses, yet I tease her for watching Wedding Sunday’s on BRAVO for 3 hours straight. I guess it’s not fair – she can easily make the argument that hours of football are equally mindless (but it’s NOT!! There is so much strategy, drama, heartbreak and elation – and funny BEER commercials! Actually, it sounds like I’m discussing reality TV too?!?!)
You know what? I think blogging is a lot like reality TV. So much of Jen’s blog is the aforementioned train-wreck – and yet we are drawn to read it. I guess blogging, and reality TV, are here to stay. I guess I’ll timidly dip my foot in the pool and participate in the group swim. But don’t ask me to watch anything with Paris Hilton in it – unless it’s a train wreck – then I’m in!
(Afterward: Last night, Jen MADE me watch “Dancing with the Stars.” Sorry, I can’t get into it. I was increasingly uncomfortable with all the men’s shirts unbuttoned to the navel (love that word!) plus I kept thinking about the Mavs basketball game/score on the other channel. Ultimately, I feel asleep and woke up to Pamela Anderson thinking she was dancing when in reality it looked like a commercial for hair products and a new putty product you spackle on your face. Nope – can’t watch it. Unless Kate Gosselin had fallen and busted her nose – now THAT would have been awesome and led to a new show, “Deviated Septum and Kate Plus Eight.” Love me a good train-wreck!)
Monday, March 22, 2010
Especially the "dependents can be 26 before they are dropped from their parent's coverage" part of it. IN ALL CAPS: THIS IS WHY I MARRIED A 40 YEAR OLD. Seriously? GROW UP, you scruffy, good-for nothing, lazy, living for the $1 draft beer night at the local bar and your pack of Marlboro Reds you paid for by stealing out of your grandma's wallet, scrubs that are my age and you WONDER why I laughed at you when you asked me out on a date? YOU DON'T DESERVE Health Care....unless you get off your sorry ass and go work at the local Burger King. That is sooo much more noble and attractive than being lazy and fat. I don't really care where you work, just stop being so worthless.
Okay, I'm done.
Before, you call me a Sunday School Hooker and in a huff go to the right side of your screen and click the UNFOLLOW button, don't worry;I'm not going to bash the President or Congress. I'm only going to say this: if you don't like or approve of how the government is being run, stop sitting on your couch stuffing your face full of bonbons and complaining about the icky color of Nancy Pelosi's hair and actually do something about it! OR, if you are excited about the Health Care Reform, then have a reality check and realize the bill passed by the thong of an overweight stripper.....which means by a wee-little thread! And you too, need to get more involved in your political beliefs rather than just going around in the OBAMA t-shirt you bought a Urban Outfitters because Justin Timberlake had the same one on in US Weekly.
I think young people don't get involved in politics like they should. No matter if you are left winged or right winged, know what you believe in and do something about it! FOR NOW (yes, that was a socialist jab...deal with it) we live in a democracy ran by the people, for the people. Be a part of those "People" and know the issues, decide where you stand and put your time AND money towards that. Exclamation point...infinity.
Below is a link to the 1776challenge. This is a political action committee of young people who know what they believe, know they are vital in the future of politics and are ready to make a stand. http://1776challenge.com/
Now listen kiddies.....I think I was pretty Fair and Balanced, right, right?? I don't want any anonymous comments telling me I need to wax my upper lip and to stick it where the sun don't shine. I might just have to call that fancy lawyer I saw on a billboard on the way to work this morning and sue you for slander....I mean anything is possible, he did get that lady $250,000 for her car wreck!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Why wouldn't you like cats, Jennifer? Are you heartless? Not even KITTENS? Sweet, cuddly, innocent kittens. Seriously? What's wrong with you? are you made of stone? do you walk around in your pleather pants and imagine they are the hides of furry kittens? are you telling me you don't like MY cat?
Yes, see I know you! I can read your mind--told ya I was psychic!
But, no I don't have anything personal against the cats, besides the weird way they contort their bodies to lick their "private parts", the hair they leave behind everywhere and the frightening way they always manage to land on their feet (sounds like the work of Satan to me!). Besides that, I don't have a problem with them....well, if it wasn't for the fact that, being psychic, I know that I will die from a cat.
Horrible way to die, I know. But, it's true. I'm deathly allergic to cats. No not just sneezey, itchy allergic. I'm like stab your thigh with an epi pen and prepare the emergency tracheotomy to open up this girl's airways kind of allergic. And GUESS WHAT? You're never gonna guess it. Grandma Buckethead....has cute, snugly, innocent cats
Mark has already prepared Grandma that she had to kick the cats out a few weeks ago and that I will not be interacting with these precious felines. I have also warned the kids in my very serious "adult" tone (which I'm trying to master) that if they didn't want their Queen Step-mommy in the hospital they will not touch the cats and then touch me. And if they really loved me they wouldn't touch the cats anyways just to be on the safe side. Guilt works people. And no, I'm not evil....just cautious!
Wish me luck; if I swell up like a red tomato, I'll be sure and post a picture.
Now to the Five Fact Friday:
1.) I pink puffy heart love show-tunes. My buckethead knows this about me and sweetly bought me Season Tickets to Dallas Summer Musicals for Christmas. Isn't that such a thoughtful and meaningful gift?? I love him. He loves me. We're married and he revs my engine. Okay, okay I'll shut up now before you gak on your computer screen OR try and steal my man. Either one wouldn't be pretty. Anyways, when I'm alone in my car, yes I will put in the Wicked Soundtrack and belt out "Popular" at the top of my lungs. And yes, I do the facial expressions, head nods, hand motions, the whole works. I'm good.....real good. My next apperance will be on George Bush Turnpike around noon today.
2.) I paint my nails at work. Yes, I'm the one who is guilty of filling the office with the smell of ammonia. But hey, it's better than "painting" your nails with a Pink Hi-lighter (don't act like you haven't done it).
3.) I met my bestest friend in this whole world when I was three. Her name is Mimi, and no she is not my grandma. I think she is the prettiest, sweetest, coolest and funniest person I know. Mimi is one of those friends that never make you feel bad. She doesn't leave you out, get on to you when your being selfish, or make you feel like your not good enough. During my divorce, she was one of the only people who immediately was like, I got your back. She took my side; right, wrong or indifferent. She has loved me unconditionally and that is sooo very rare. She is one of my greatest blessings in this life.
4.) I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
5.) I take a bath almost every night and only take a shower when it's an EMERGENCY. I am...ahem...LAZY. Yes, I admit it! I'm Lazy. And I do not find anything relaxing about standing up. I need to be lounging in a hot tub of bubbly water to properly clean myself. (That sentence sounds kind of disgusting...properly "clean myself" what?!?)
I hope you all have a great rest of your week! Leave a comment and tell me a fact about you. It's not fair that you know how I clean myself and I don't know a random fact about you!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I come to you this St. Patty's day morning in a foul mood 1.) because I followed that damn rainbow this morning only to find it's just a rumor; there really is NO pot of gold at the end of it. Seriously! There's not even a bowl full of cereal with multi-colored marshmallows in it. 2.) because of the insane amount of pressure to wear the color green on this day.
So this morning I basically got into a fist fight with my closet. It swung to the left. I ducked and threw an uppercut right to the closet's chin. Just when I thought I had won, it came from behind and put me in a head lock, threw me on the floor and kicked me in the ribs a few times. Needless to say, I lost. Is it not hard enough ladies to pick out an outfit in the morning, when your menstrual and running 15 minutes late? BUT, now you stupid Leprechaun, drinking green beer (which I could easily handle) is not good enough. No, you force me to pick out something GREEN lest I get pitched by every co-worker, person in Target and sticky handed child out there. I'm NOT Irish. I DON'T like the color green. I DON'T like to be touched awkwardly by strangers. Stay outta my bubble!
So, this morning I'm wearing this heinous green sweater that I bought during my "chubby stage" which is obvious by the maternity shape it's now giving my figure. This terrifying green experience inspired me to maybe expand my closet to have a little more green in it. That way I won't get team up on and pounded in the ground by my closet and a small green thing in black buckled shoes.
Here's what I wish I was wearing:
Do you pink puffy heart love that skirt like I do??
Is that dress on the right not slap yo momma cute?!? www.fashionpolice.net
And these?!?!? Fabulous! I bet I could have found the pot of gold wearing these puppies. I KIDD! I KIDD! I threw up in my mouth a little bit at the site of these Oscar the Grouch Uggs.
I think St. Patty's day for me will include a little trip to the mall. I will be sure to let Buckethead know there is no need to buy me a present....I got it taken care of. Next year I will not leave my house on St. Patty's day looking like a frumpy Kermit the frog!!
Don't get pitched!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Happy Monday friends (and foe's for you people who curse my blog, hate my mis spelled and misused words and carry around a voodoo doll of me to poke in the jugular every time I have a grammatical error!)
This weekend me and the familia (yes, I am practicing my espanol) traveled down to my hometown to visit my relatives- all three hundred forty six of them. Well, maybe not that many but I do have a huge family that all live in the same small town. My family was so big and my town so small, when I would get asked out on a date in high school we would have to have a quick review of our family trees to make sure that we weren't going to end up "kissin cousins". Icky poo!
It's funny--the longer I'm away from MB(my hometown), the more I notice things I never noticed before. For example: MB is FILLED, I repeat, filled with power lines. Remember that commerical that place in the early 90's about never play around power lines. It's a cartoon that shows a kid flying his kite and it getting stuck in the power lines and the kid basically getting electrocuted? Why in the world was I afraid of leprechauns, monsters and my evil 2nd grade teacher and NOT power lines. I mean they are everywhere. My children will NEVER fly a kite in my parents home town. NEVER!
We really tried to make this trip about the kids since it's their spring break and wicked stepmommy spent all their Colorado Ski Trip money on a zillion fruity drinks served in coconuts on her honeymoon. So, they had to settle for going to Houston. Bad step-mommy! Bad step-mommy!
Our first stop was on the ride down to Houston. Yes, we are that white-trash in we find pure and utter bliss in stopping at Buckys. Never been to a Buckys? Oh, boy are you missing out! You can buy Beaver Pajama pants, buttermilk pie, tractor supplies and home decor all in this giant gas station. Sure, it's highly over priced and smells a bit like Pine Sol and formaldehyde but who cares?! It's BUCKYS.
After the thrilling trip to the gas station (ahhhh, it sounds SOO much worse than it really was). We took them down to Kemah and rode a few rides that (and I quote from Mitch) makes my boy-parts tickle! He's so cute, I could eat him but,we avoided that ride for the rest of the trip.
We then went out to my family's ranch where we had a good time, riding 4 wheelers, visiting with the family and having a shrimp boil. The kids wanted to play in the bonfire so bad, but we established a new rule this time that there was no playing in the fire, unless you were making smores. So I think all 20 people there were made about 13 smores a piece. I know smores mean you always want some more, but the nauseated looks on folks faces, told a different story. Thank goodness my dad installed that new septic tank (that for the toilets all you non-country folk).
On Sunday we once again had a marvelous meal prepared by all those fantastic cooks in my family who make me wonder if my brother was always telling me the truth when he claimed I was adopted. We sat on the back porch after lunch, talking, drinking coffee and watching Mitch and Mark play catch. Mark made a great impression on his new mother-in-law by throwing a pop fly basically at my mom which she almost would have avoided....had it not been for her left big toe. Yep, my new husband probably broke his MIL's toe. She is not as dramatic as her beloved daughter but she did manage to belt out as she was hopping around, holding her toe in pain, "Mark, why do you throw that ball so hard? He's ONLY a child!!". Poor Buckethead. I think it really bothered him. Last night, as we got in bed, after a few moments of silence he said, "Do you think I should sent your mom a card or something?"
Be watching for another blog from guest Blogger, my husband, Buckethead. I think this time I'm going to make him stay on a certain topic. Maybe one like, 50 reason's why my Wife is Hotter than Angelia Jolie. Something easy like that!
Friday, March 12, 2010
Well, so I guess I better get to the point of this blog....five random facts about the blogger of "Crying over Spilled Milk".
1.) I drink at least 4-5 diet cokes a day. It's my drug of choice. Mom, yes I know I need to drink water and that I'll get a bladder infection that could lead to the destruction of my kidneys and may even be linked to that weird rash I keep on getting...TMI?
2.) I think I'm psychic. Actually, I don't think I'm psychic, I know I'm psychic. My brother tells me I shouldn't call it that and there a better term for Christians to use but I can't remember what it is. But whatever that "term" is....THAT'S WHAT I AM.
3.) Cheese is my BFFL.
4.) I hated middle school. Didn't have boobs, didn't have a boyfriend, didn't get my period and made the "B" team 2nd string in basketball. Despite the fact that I had the latest Doc Martin shoes and Tommy Hilfiger polo shirts, I just wasn't all that cool. and it was hard. Julia is going to be entering into Middle School next year and the thought seriously makes me shutter. I have already started praying for these delicate years in a kids life that is so quickly approaching.
5.) I'm no cook. But, the women in my family sure can cook. My Grandmother is beautiful, classy and can whip up the most beautiful gourmet meal you've ever seen. She taught my mother this and my mom is an excellent cook as well. My dad's mom, otherwise known as Grandma, makes a turkey and dressing that will BLOW YOUR MIND! Something has gone terribly wrong with me in this category. i can screw up boiling water.
Don't you feel so much closer to me, now? :)
Happy Friday Everyone!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
What do Lady Liberty and I have in common? No, it’s not the masculine features(although I smell like a man), the self-entitlement of needing to wear a crown, carrying around a book under your arm but never actually reading it or people standing in long lines a bearing the swarm of Chinese tourist just to get into our head. It’s actually…. our feet! Yes, that’s right. The Statue of Liberty and I both have long second toes, otherwise knows at Morton’s Toe syndrome.
LADY LIBERTY'S TOE:
I’ve always found it kind of quirky and interesting. As Jerry Seinfield put it:
“Yeah! like the big toe is like the captain of the toes, but sometimes the toe next to the big toe gets so big that there’s like a power struggle and the second toe assumes control of the foot.”
Besides the power struggle between my toes, the slight discomfort in closed-toed shoes or the ridicule of an adolescent saying, “Ha, Ha you’re toe is long!” I’ve never really had a problem with mine and 15% of the population’s mutation of toes. My reply has usually been along the lines of:
Okay, you say my toe is long like it’s a bad thing. Why don’t you go take your Fred Flinstone looking stubby big toe off my lawn and go invent the wheel or something??
For some reason I had a peak of curiosity about my long toe and decided to use good ole’ trusty Google to find out what’s up. One of the first search results were from Wikapedia and I immediately click on it because we ALL know that it’s the MOST reliable source of information out on the web---yah, right.
So here are some of the things I found out:
A longer second toe has often been associated with royalty. Particularly during the rule of the Ptolemaic dynasty when Egypt was under Greek rulership. It was an idealized form in Greek sculpture, and this persisted as an aesthetic standard through Roman and Renaissance periods and later (the Statue of Liberty has toes of this proportion). There are also associations found within Celtic groups
It is also believed by some to be associated with headaches and TMJ dysfunction, although this is not universally accepted
· It's said that if your second toe is longer, you have werewolf potential.
· If your second toe is bigger it means that you are the dominant one in the relationship
The Statue of Liberty was deliberately chiseled with Morton's toes
My favorite thing I found was on the website, notafreak.com. (Yes this is a REAL website). Below is how a gentleman “pre-screens” his job applicants. From a HR perspective this is wrong on Sooooo many levels:
“I have a longer second toe on both feet I call them my longevity toes I never get sick if I do its day and I don't miss work. My wife shorter second toes always sick oldest child longer second toe never sick second child shorter toe always sick third child shorter second toe always sick and finally the fourth longer second toe never sick . I have ten employees my manager has longer second toes I found this out after she worked for me for a year and a half and never was sick our missed work two other employees were always sick and guess what yes shorter second toes they are no longer working for me. I will not hire another person with shorter second toes. My observation has been that if you have a longer second toe you tend to have the ability to resisted colds and other viruses then someone with a shorter second toe. Take it for what its worth maybe the second toe being longer is a genetic gauge of health.”
So do any of YOU have a second toe that's longer than your first toe? If not, does this freak you out and make you want to wash your body in increments of 10, cover yourself in babypowder and pray to the toe god's that you were not cursed with such a deformity? Or are you mad that I even blogged about toes at all and think this blog should go back to the time when I was depressed and suffering because it's MUCH more interesting to hear about THAT than nasty phalanges?
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I've been conducting my very own investigation at work to find out who's peeing all over the toilet seat. It's driving me bonkers! To all you "toilet squaters" out there: Listen, I know you think your toosh is too special to sit on a public toilet, even if there are provided seat protectors and THAT'S FINE. But, do us all a favor and WIPE THE DANG SEAT. Gawhh! Seriously, women. You're worst than a man. Have we resorted to become like the gender we stole a rib from and feel the need to start marking our territory?
Before you roll your eyes and think I'm overreacting, stop right there. This is not just a little dribble, dribble that accidentally left a drop or two on the toilet seat lid. This is full-blown puddles of nasty nastyness not only on the toilet seat but on the floor.....on the back of the toilet, on the "feminine napkin disposal" and not just once....EVERYDAY. It's actually quite hard to fathom how anyone without an aimer could do this.....which brought me to my first hypothesis:
My first thought was someone with an "aimer" a.k.a. a whittle "boy part" could only cause this kind of mess. So I started to think maybe a man was sneaking into the women's restroom and sabotaging the place because he was jealous that we have scented candles and a candy dispenser in our bathroom (boys, that ain't no candy dispenser). As I was nearing this conclusion and getting ready camp outside the restroom and scissor kick the first guy that got near it, I found a clue that has pointed me in the complete opposite direction.
What is this clue, you may ask? Rubber Tread Marks. Yes, rubber tread marks on the toilet seat with the pee everywhere. How does rubber tread marks get on a toilet??? By, rubber soled SHOES of course. This toosh protecting, toilet squater has taken it to a WHOLE OTHER LEVEL! My new hypothesis is that some psycho woman is STANDING, I repeat, STANDING on the toilet seat to pee! I'm sorry but this is insane and deserves corporal punishment to the tenth degree, followed by 20 lashes, no T.V. for a week,being sent to bed on an empty stomach and every other horrible punishment there is!
I'm going to find the culprit. This is my new goal and won't stop believing....I'll hold onto that feeling...yeah...oh wait, that's a song.... Nothing can stop me now, I've already started checking people's shoes for rubber soles.
I will find you.
Monday, March 8, 2010
As I gazed out my window and dream, like Chevy Chase did in "Christmas Vacation", I can almost visualize my summer filled with swimming pools, laughing children, hot dogs and relaxation. Buckethead and I decided to start early on planning our family vacation of the summer. My first thought was a cruise. It would be PERFECT. All inclusive, so much on the boat for the kiddos to do, a nice little sunbathing deck for Queen Stepmommy and a CASINO for after hours (My eyes just popped out and turned into dollar signs). It would be a dream vacation....
Buckethead, has different plans.
BH: I think we should go to family camp.
BH: You know, Family Camp. Church camp, like you did as a kid.
Like I did as a kid, huh? DO YOU KNOW WHAT CAMP DID TO ME AS A KID??? (FYI, this entire paragraph deserves all caps) CAMP RUINED ME! IT WAS THE DEMISE OF LITTLE JEN PORTER AS A KID. YEAR AFTER YEAR I WOULD TRY AGAIN, YET STILL....CAMP WOULD EAT ME ALIVE, I TELL YOU! EAT ME ALIVE!!!
Summer camp has always been a traumatic experience for me. Don't believe me? Here's a few examples:
4th grade- GA camp: My camp counselor had a bag of candy under her bed and I was hungry so I took a piece. I was accused of "stealing" and had to call my mom and go to the chapel and pray for forgiveness. When I prayed I was like, Sorry God I was hungry and ate some candy but what I'm really sorry for it putting sand and rubbing my dirty socks in the counselor's bed as revenge for embarrassing me in front of everyone.
5th grade- Pre-teen camp: I tipped my canoe in front of the cool boys and the life guards swam out to the middle of the lake to rescue me. I tried to tell them I was fine, but they followed "protocol" and basically put me in a head lock and swam me back to the shore.
7th grade-Youth camp: I was made fun of for not having any boobs by some of the older kids. So, I thought I was being smart and stuffed my bra that night for service. I was then made fun of for stuffing my bra for the church service. My mom came and got me half-way through the camp...I was too mortified to stay the rest of the trip.
11th grade-Youth camp: I followed my high school sweetheart to a pentecostal church camp, where he basically dumped me half-way through the camp for a tongue talking, holy-rolling, one-piece bath suiting wearing floozy (she wasn't really a floozy but it's MY story). Heartbroken and mortified, I had to spend the rest of the week watching my boyfriend and his floozy getting chummy at the alter call every night.
And on top of all those experiences, I am ALSO accidental prone and allergic to the outdoors. I hate to damage my families expectations, but me and "horseback riding" don't mix. If this is the vacation we will be taking, I need to start taking Calcium supplements to strengthen my bones for when I crash and burn from attempting to mountain bike or try the rope swing or walk in a straight line....ANY of these activities have the potential to be quite damaging to my body.
Any time with my family will be a great time, but keep your fingers crossed for me that the Cruise lines come up with some FANTASTIC offer that is too good to pass up. Otherwise, this summer I might be off the blog awhile due to being in a full-body cast or something....
Friday, March 5, 2010
I started my blog a year and half ago as a diary of sorts. Throughout my life I have begun to keep a diary about, oh 5,342 times and yet never made it past the 4th entry. It's funny, if you look back into my Hope Chest (it's a Southern thing for those of you who don't understand....your momma basically gives you a wooden trunk, you put it at the end of your bed and stuff all your hopes and dreams in it), you will see a Diary I started in 7th grade. The first entry is about how I lied at a slumber party about starting my period and everyone found out I was lying and I was soooo embarrassed. If I could only talk to my 12 year old self now, I would tell her.....honey, never again in this life will you EVER think a period is exciting....unless you miss a birth control pill and your just not ready for a kid...it will be exciting THEN...but never again after that.
So, back to the point and off the subject of the menstrual cycle. The blog gave me accountability, if you will, to keep up with writing down my thoughts and feelings post divorce. But, now I've realized that Blogging is ALSO social networking. And you are suppose to have these topics that rhyme with the days and provide alliteration.....it's very confusing and makes me nervous. Alas, I must keep up with the times and therefore, I subjecting myself into the blogging world, by using "A Girl in Pearl and A Boy with Toys" blog topic (I don't know this girl who's wearing pearls...I'm sure she is lovely and her pearls are very nice and real....otherwise I doubt her pearls would have been of importance enough to name your blog after it)
Okay, I'm drifting. and now I'm reeling myself back in. BACK TO TOPIC, again.
So her topic of this Friday's Favorite is: Favorite Romantic Comedy.
My favorite Romantic Comedy is, Notting Hill.
Love me some Hugh Grant, love me some Hugh Grant and finally, Love me some Hugh Grant. On a more serious note, this movie just pulls at my heart strings. Hugh's roommate in the movie Spike, reminds me of myself. My favorite line in the movie if from him, and I quote, "I knew a girl in school named Pandora....but I never got to see her box".
Secretly, also I always thought I would be famous and I would marry me a simpleton...Didn't happen but I still love the movie!
Welcome to the first ever installment of Five Fact Friday. Have you figured out what this blog will constist of? well, if you're that stupid and can't figure it out......WELCOME! You've come to the right place. This blog is a magical, mystical world where stupidity and a huge ego merge together to create a train-wreck of a story that you can't help but read.
Well, to point out the obvious to those who are dumb, thus finding pleasure in this blog, every Friday I will give you five random facts about me. A bit narcissistic? ABSO-FREAKIN-UTELY. But, alas, remember all ye who enter this site.....this is MY blog. So, it's going to mainly be about, ME.
So, let's get to it, shall we?
Fact Number ONE:
I have freakishly small hands. Seriously, I do. My hands are smaller than my 10 year old step-daughter's. Listen, I have no problem with
Fact Number TWO:
Sci-Fi channel and anyone who watches the Sci-Fi channel....FREAK ME OUT. Battlestar Galactica? Seriously?? That speaks for itself....(I just got a shudder down my spine).
Fact Number THREE:
I LOVE Mayonnaise. I would put Mayonnaise on anything. I would probably even eat a spoonful of Mayo if it wouldn't make my ass jiggle and my husband throw up in his mouth. And I'm not talking about the nasty substitute of Miracle Whip. I mean, I wouldn't call that medicore spread anything close to a miracle....Did Jesus turn water into a "B" grade Mayonnaise? NO. Did he walk on Miracle Whip? I think not. So, Miracle Whip....don't get a big head or anything. You're the subsistute mayo....you could NEVER BE MAYONNAISE! Get it? Got it? GOOD!
Fact Number FOUR:
I use to have a ghost that followed me around. He would show up in my pictures and push things around just to prove he was there. I had him for about 3 years, but he left once Mark started coming around more. I don't know if he was scared or if Mark smelt like garlic. Maybe Casper realized that I didn't need him anymore and he could move on to move other people's ceral bowls and photo-bomb their pictures now. Either way, he's gone now.....and I kinda miss him.
Fact Number FIVE:
I caught a toaster on fire and called 911 when I was a kid and home alone (shame on you parental units!) When the fire truck got there, all that remained of my problem was a burnt pop tart and an embarrassed kid. My dad made me write an apology note to the fire department and sent a donation check along with it.
Well, there you go folks. Tune in next week for another episode of......FIVE.....FACT.....FRIDAY!!!! And the crowd goes Wild...........
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Well......ahhhhh.....you see, I can explain! I would be happy if ONLY I could have........
What is wrong with me, people?!? Two years ago, I moved into a 550 square foot apartment, with basically no furniture and a ghetto neighbor who had a strange obsession with calling me his "shorty". I was in debt due to the high price of divorce, a student loan and a therapy I like to call shopping. My nights consisted of lean cuisines, playing with my dog and watching movies, since I couldn't afford cable. (I mean who doesn't have cable? Yes, it was THAT bad). Now, I live in the most amazing home, debt free, with the most amazing husband and I not only have cable, I have Satellite and MOVIE CHANNELS. That's right, I am big pimpin now. I didn't tell you I have movie channels to make you jealous, although I am sure that is inevitably the exact reaction it gave you, I tell you I have movie channels to say, I'VE GOT IT GOOD BABY.
Soooo, why oh why oh WHY, do I have a bad case of the "Wants". I am CONSTANTLY saying "I Want". I say that more than my teenage cousin says the word "Like", and that is, like, an UNBELIEVABLE amount. Like, anyways I am totally tripping on why I'm not satisfied when I have so much more than I've ever had. Not just in Earthly possessions, but like in everything.
Here are a few of the "I wants" on my list:
A NEW CAR
Honestly, I don't NEED a new car. My car works just fine. Sure, the fanciest thing on it is it's automatic windows, but it's a good car that only has ohhh, 10 to 15 dings on it from me backing into the garage door, a ladder, side swiping the chick fil a drive thru trash can, a curb, etc, etc. Despite me knowing in my mind, that I do not NEED a new car, boy do I want a new car.
I'm not sure if anyone else knows what I'm worth, but BOY I SURE THINK I DO. I make great money and have a good job but I'm constantly wanting more....I bet if I was standing in the unemployment line with my bean and cheese burrito from Taco Bell and getting dirty looks because I'm holding a purse with little LV's all over it, I wouldn't have this attitude of WANT.
And last, but not least.....drum roll, please.
I've been married one month, I repeat, ONE MONTH and I already have baby fever. I dream babies. Every baby I see, I want. My friend, Melissa is having a baby and she sent me a link to look at the baby bedding she chose, and I stayed on the website....FOR 45 freaking minutes! Doing what, you may ask...Picking out MY BABY, bedding. Uhhhh, hello, Earth to Jennifer, YOU DON'T HAVE A BABY! This obsession has gotten so out of control, my husband has now made a rule. No baby talk for ONE YEAR.
One year? Like a whole year, or a year ago from last summer? ONE WHOLE YEAR. Okay, Okay, I get it but, not trying to be rude, but your getting kinda.....cough....old.....cough. ONE WHOLE YEAR. Okay, I understand, but just to clarify, do you mean a year until we BIRTH a child, because if that's the case then we need to get pregnant in a couple of months. ONE WHOLE YEAR. Oh, that's not what you meant? Okay, just making sure!
So, I've been shot down on the baby thing, even though I tried to convince him that I would need a new car if I got a new baby.....he laughed and said, Sure. Dang it, he knows me too well! My focus this week, it do get rid of the "I wants" and focus on being thankful for the "I haves". You can bet your bottom dollar, that in ONE YEAR.....the "I wants" will be starting up again.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
I figured the minute Mark and I said "I do", this magical moment would happen where I would become this instant "super mom". It made my heart swell in knowing that they were my children now. I loved them so much. But still......something was different between how I loved them v.s. how their father loved them. Secretly, I became down on myself because I wanted to be one of those step moms who with confidence says, "I love my step kids just as much as I love my own children". Mark's love for them was still different, so I figured I either a.) didn't have the capacity to love any child as much as he did or b.) I didn't love them like I would love my own child.
Last night, as we were putting the kids to bed, we all climbed up in the bed to read a book. As I was lying there, my step-daugther, although slowly inching her way into the pre-teen years with training bras, Ed Hardy shoes and notes to boys, snuggled up beside me and put her head on my chest and wrapped her arms around me. As I rubbed her back, I was overcome with a wave of emotion. I was so in love with her. In that moment I would have done anything to make her happy. I would have cut off my hair and dyed it.....brown! (Oh the horror!). I would have traded in my car for a Ford Taurus if only to please her. I would have given up Diet Coke for good, to make her happy. Designer purses, who needs them?! I would have worn a fanny pack so long as it made her smile.
I had an epiphany, if you will. These precious children are slowly but surely chipping away at my selfish shell. It's not that I don't love them, it's just being a parent takes every bone of selfishness you have in your body and breaks it, no matter how painful it may be. Not all my selfish bones have been broken yet.
My confession is, sometimes you want to be selfish and you cling on to that with every fiber of your being. On grumpy mornings I don't want to share share my bathroom and my sink with two children that have their own bathroom and their own sink to brush their teeth in a get sticky toothpaste everywhere. On Saturday mornings, I want to watch HGTV not, I-Carly, On Deck with Zach and Cody or any other Disney channel repeat.
But, when you hold those snuggle bunnies in your arms and they smell as good as a puppy, (unless they just pulled off their shoes, or farted and blamed it on the dog, or smell like a mixture mud and fertilizer) you realize that the parent/child relationship is such a symbolism of our relationship with God. He gives us children so we can get a slight glimpse into how unselfishly he loves us.
Slowly but surely these children are chipping away my selfishness. With time, I will be putty in their hands. They will learn how to wrap me around their little fingers, like they have their father and we will spend every night at Dave and Buster's, eating pizza and winning stuffed animals. Julia will become a teenager and end up with every nice piece of clothing I possesssed stuffed in the back of her closet because I think, she looks better in it anyways. They will trick me into doing their homework for them. When they get in trouble, I'll give them the look of , don't worry I'll go talk to your dad. Mitch will end up having a nicer car than me because I've convinced his father that, he deserves it. Oh my goodness, I can see it now.....