Just Another Day

Pugs- so ugly they're cute or just plain ugly? It seems that no one falls in between, so I'm curious as to what y'all think. So NaBloPoMo is done. Finished. Finito. I think I shall rest this weekend. And back when I started blogging oh-so-long-ago, if you had told me that the most comments I would ever recieve would be on a post wherein I am in danger of electrocuting myself with a kitchen appliance, I would have channeled Elaine and said, " Get out !"

Dear Gremlin/Entity/Dimension that is stealing my little spoons, Would you quit already? When we moved in here five years ago, we were given as a wedding gift a perfectly lovely set of flatware. If memory serves me correctly, we had eight of each: big spoon, litle spoon, big fork, little fork, and knives. They were a happy family, nestled contently in their cozy organizer. Sure, the pasta grabber would get obnoxious once in a while, but they were happy just where they were. For years, they stuck together. That is, until you came along. It was a gradual process, this losing of the spoons. You were so sneaky that I didn't notice at first, since I don't even use the little spoons very often. But then, Mr. Personality grew out of his need for baby spoons, and the little spoons were the logical next choice. It started off fine, but we went down somehow to six. Then I "forgot" to give one back my sister, and then we were back at seven. We went down to five at one p

When I participated in the "Shopping Death March" this weekend, I mentioned that the mall we went to was one of the more upscale ones in Orange County. Which is saying a lot. It is located in the city of Newport Beach, and close to two dozen people on the Forbes richest people list live in Newport Beach. Thus, it was not surprising to me to see there the alarming evidence of overconsumption that is the mainstay for America these days. My cousins wanted to go into the Juicy Couture store. I went in with them, curious to see what the store would have inside. I knew I was a bit older than their target audience, so I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Lo and behold, it had a bunch of twelve year olds in it, mostly. I looked around at these giggling girls who were eyeing T-shirts that cost fifty dollars and wondering why their parents were allowing them to look at purses that usually start at one fifty for a teensy little bag. Perhaps I just don't have enough mon

We have a raging debate going on over here. And I know that you are curious as to what it may be. The possibility of a draft? The Pope's visit to Turkey? A timetable for a withdrawal of forces in Iraq? No my friends, a subject both weightier and just a tad bit closer to home. Let me begin by saying I like bagels. I like them toasted. I toast them in my handy-dandy toaster oven. The other day, I went to get the halves out, and Hubba-hubba happened to be hanging around the kitchen. I reach for the bagel. Hubba-hubba:( freaking out ) OH MY GOD! What are you doing? Gina:( startled ) Uhhh, getting my bagel out of the toaster oven. Hubba-hubba: You used a knife! Gina: I always use a knife. Hubba-hubba:( still freaking out ) NOBODY uses a knife to get their bagels out of a toaster. You are going to get hurt! Gina:( snorting ) I don't think so. I've been using a knife to get them out for YEARS and nothing has ever happened. Hubba-hubba: You are putting a METAL OBJECT i

Have you ever lived with a real-life Scrooge? Well, when Christmas time rolls around, it ain't all that great. I have no idea why Hubbba-hubba views Christmas with so much distaste. From what I understand, Christmas was a very big deal in his youth, with two Christmas trees (one in the front living room and one in the back den) along with presents and parties and relatives. Well, perhaps the relatives might be a clue. But ever since I have known him, which has been coming up on sixteen years, Hubba-hubba's heart does not get warm and fuzzy at the thought of the holidays. Instead, it turns into a rather crabby and definitely unhelpful lump of coal. Does Gina want Christmas lights strung up outside the house? Well, then Gina has to do it herself. Ever since we bought this place, I am the one to get on the stepladder and string up the lights. When Mr. P was smaller, I tried to plead that he would be thrilled with a larger display than the admittedly puny one that I put up. M

I have just recently returned from what could properly be called the "Shopping Death March." And it was about as fun as it sounds. I have some wonderful teenage cousins who are in town from Arizona, and when they come here to California, they are only interested in doing two things. Shopping and the beach. Anything else is immaterial. I was invited to come shopping with the girls, six of us in all. My mom, my aunt, me, my sister, and my two cousins aged 13 and 18. We went here , which is one of the fanciest, shmanciest malls around. It has a Juicy Couture, an Apple Store, an Anthropologie, a Lucky Brand, Bloomingdale's, Neiman Marcus, and a bazillion other stores that are so far out of my price range I never even bother to look for something little like earrings because they will cost a small fortune. On sale. So the shopping went on and on. And on some more. I am not the same "type" of shopper they are. They are what I like to call "drifters.&quo

I don't religiously review my site stats the way I used to, although I would say I probably check them daily for referring sites so that I can see who has been kind enough to link to me. Yes, yes, I know about Technorati, but they can be maddeningly slow to pick up links. There are some obviously funny search terms that find me, such as "tequila stomach" and once, "boy won't pee in potty." Usually I never see them again, I get a hearty laugh, and I move on. But lately, some disturbing searches have wound up with my blog at or near the top of the results, and while I find it sort of amusing that they click and find me, it also disturbs me on some level. Take for instance "nice pickture boy" from some person in Belgium. I'm sorry, but my mind instantly jumps to pervert looking to ogle some flesh. I could be wrong. But, when I see stuff like that, it makes me give a sigh of relief that I don't post pictures of myself or my family on here

Welcome to the Thanksgiving Edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like the resolution I have to take it easy on the stuffing* (my favorite!) this year, they just don't matter! What was the name of the tribe of Indians that brought gifts of food to the Pilgrims? *It has come to my attention that other people call it dressing. Why dressing? You are stuffing the inside of the bird! Maybe if you were putting little coats and shirts inside the bird, I could see dressing. I vote for stuffing as the official term!

All right, I liked Kvetch's " Honest Thankfulness" post so very much that I am going to steal the idea. Hey, at least I'm an honest thief. I am of course grateful for all the big "obvious" things- my health, my family, my home, etcetera. But there are also dumb little things that sometimes make my day that much better due to their existence, despite their relative insignificance. Kvetch (aka Amy) used the number of years she has graced the earth with her presence, and I figure that is as good a number as any for myself as well. Perhaps not the gracing the earth part, though. I think the earth just sort of puts up with me. And maybe wishes I would shut up once in a while. Anyhoo, here goes: 1. Bloglines 2. Iced Tea 3. My favorite pair of Brighton earrings 4. The six disc CD changer in my car 5. Beautiful art 6. Knives that cut properly 7. Ice Cubes 8. All of my blogging buddies 9. Bras that do what they are supposed to and don't hurt 10. Trashy maga

I know what you are trying to do, Blogger. You are trying to get me to switch to the new version. And I have to admit, you're making it pretty tough. From making me sign in each and every time I try to get to the dashboard, to making me put in my username and password on everyone's blog just to make a lousy comment. See how much I love you all, that I am willing to go through all that? However, it's starting to get a little old and I am getting crankier about it by the day. When you first began whispering sweet nothings in my ear about the beta, you were more discreet. There was just a little bitty paragraph pushed waaay over to the side that suggested I might want to think about switching. You were thinking that smooth and subtle was the way to go. But now, now you're pulling out all the stops. You have this large alluring advertisement hovering on the top of my dashboard, extolling all the virtues of what is still technically the beta version of Blogger. You sho

I took a walk around our neighborhood tonight, alone except for my iPod shuffle and the tunes that were supposed to motivate me to walk faster. We are experiencing odd fall weather here, very hot during the day and cool at night. I wanted to get out in that cool air and breathe some of it. There is something so very refreshing about night air to me. As I walked down our street, I noticed the constellation of Orion off in the southwest. He was standing sideways, and his belt, the main thing I always notice about Orion, made a vertical line in the sky. We don't get to see many stars here in this part of Southern California. The land is so populated and sprawled out that the millions of lights and the light pollution they produce blot out many stars except for the major constellations and a few planets. You can go up into the mountains and get a better view, or out in the desert, but on a daily basis here in the city, the stars are quite hidden and the sky mostly black but for a

Hubba-hubba is embarassed to admit it, but he watches "Brothers and Sisters" right along with me. Tonight he got off the computer to set next to me on the couch when the show came on, and I gave him a high five and said, "Welcome to the sisterhood!" A few weekends ago, when Mr. Personality was at my parent's house, I cannot tell you how utterly bizarre it was to not have to factor him into my plans. It was a little eerie having the freedom to wake up and do whatever, and not have to tend to his needs. I remembered my former life a bit wistfully. I think the Democrats should try to immediately enforce a "pay as you go" budget, thus making the hardest part under the Bush administration. That way, the next (hopefully Democrat) president will be able to avoid all of the blame for the tough times that are ahead. Because you know that's what is going to happen. Bra shopping is a pain the the butt. It seems like they now have a bazillion different k

Recently, my extended family has had big trouble. Trouble of a very bad kind, most likely induced by drugs or alcohol. Or both, for all I know. Threats were made from a son to a father, resulting in bodily harm to the father, and ultimately resulting in jail time for sonny boy. My cousin. To be honest, this small auxiliary branch of the family tree has bloomed trouble ever since it first sprouted from the trunk. Mine is not the first family to be affected by unchecked addiction, and sadly, we will be far from the last. And I have to ask myself, why? Why are there so many people out there who see substance abuse as the key to their troubles? Are there not a million cautionary tales? But they always think they are the ones who will be in control. Those other idiots don't have the self control and willpower that they do. And thus begins the slide down the slippery slope of addiction. I can only speak to my own family as to why these problems began with my cousin in the first

It's the end of the week my friends. I have had better weeks, to be sure. Both my body and mind are urging me to sit on the couch with the new library book that I have, since it is a fourteen-day loaner, and I only have eight left. I haven't even finished the first quarter, so I'd best get moving. What does Gina resort to when her mind begins to drift? A meme, of course. This one is a music meme that did the rounds oh-so-long ago, and I remember seeing it at APL's ages and ages ago, but I found it by googling. I realize that I have made somebody mad by using that as a verb, but it's Friday, and I'm not really sure I care. I care sort of, does that make you feel better? Also, because I am not going to reference the blog I lifted the rules from, does that mean I must go straight to blogger hell? I found the top 100 songs from the year of my high school graduation, which was 1989. I will strike through the songs I hate, leave the ones that I am ok with,

Gift cards: Perfect gifts or thoughtless and insulting? Tell me! Naw, no fatigue over here, just a little too much good television on tonight. Or maybe just lazy. Eh, how about a bit of both?

There are some days I look at my son and gaze wonderingly upon his beautiful, innocent face. My heart swells with joy and pride, and I cannot help myself but to pick him up and shower his face with kisses, at least until he squirms away. Today was not one of those days. I came to the realization sometime between the refusal to use a fork and the ensuing fight and the fact that his feelings were mortally hurt when I asked him to stop jumping on his father, that despite my sincere attempts to the contrary, I am raising a true drama-king. The screams, the tears, the choking on the tears, they are too much for me. The demands for a Kleenex and the sobbing insistence of, "I c-c-caaan't h-h-heeeeellllp iiiiit!" when told to calm down are wearing thin of their initial cuteness way back in year three. I had read somewhere that age four was good. Age four was an age where they were getting better at communicating. It was supposed to be an age that gave me a brief respite from

All right, I'm halfway through this thing and except for my Pointless Points Trivia (which I could totally milk, but have resisted) I have yet to give you a fairly wordless post. Well, that's over. But since we went to Disneyland today and they have already decked it out with Christmas cheer, how could I resist sharing it with you, my friends? This is the famous Sleeping Beauty's Castle, the very first Disney castle ever built: And this is it lit up at night: This is the clock tower portion of "It's A Small World" decorated for Christmas: This is a sideways shot of "It's A Small World," pretty even if a bit blurry: This is one of many wreaths which adorn light poles throughout the park: Another wreath: Now doesn't that get you in the mood for some early shopping? Please don't hate me because it isn't even Thanksgiving yet!

Hubba-hubba and I saw the new Borat movie last weekend. A lot of it was funny in a cringe-inducing, "America's Funniest Home Videos" type of way. It is not a movie for the faint of heart, or anyone that takes offense easily. In fact, most of the time you are laughing and thinking that perhaps it is wrong for you to laugh, yet you laugh anyway. There have been some lawsuits filed by people who appear in the movie. It seems that they are upset at how they are portrayed in the movie. They say that the production company gave them waivers to sign that assured them it was a documentary. The waivers apparently stated that the film would not be shown in the United States. Having seen the movie for myself, I can see why these people would be feeling foolish and furious at seeing themselves on screen. Because they acted like complete asshats. I know that the film is edited for shock value, and that "tame" things would not be shown, because no one wants to see norm

Picture me at my kitchen table. I have just sat down, anticipating dinner, and I am hungry. The day before, the boys and I had gone to Costco, where they make some fairly yummy prepared meals. They have a Mediterranean salad that I like, but it's really just a gussied-up tortellini salad with artichoke hearts and tomatoes. I like it despite their airs of pretentiousness. Mr. Personality and I had just come from the park, and we were a bit late getting home, thus no real time to prepare a "hearty" meal. Leftovers for him, pre-made salad for me. Food is on the table and all is good with the world. I pop open the lid, take out one of the plastic forks which they are so very kind to provide, and spear a tortellini with great gusto. I put it in my mouth, savoring the pasta and cheese flavors. Then, I look down. A little bit off to the side, there it sits. The foreign hair. My formerly tasty tortellini turns to bits of mush which I want to spit out instantly. I tell my

Welcome to the Saturday afternoon edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter. That's right, just like the Rebpublican Party, they just don't matter! (Yes, I know that isn't really true but after 12 freakin' years, cut me some slack, will ya?) Without further ado, today's question... Which marine mammal is found in rafts, bevies, and romps?

Py Korry has a fabulous feature on his blog. On Fridays, he features a fun Mix Six of MP3's for our listening pleasure. They usually have some kind of theme, and since he and I have fairly similar taste in music, it's usually all good. But today. Today he featured a Guns N' Roses song. I'm not sure there are any descriptions available to say how much I hate Guns N' Roses. The lead singer's voice is the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard to me. I would rather listen to my son whining than him. And he's ugly. In fact, all of the band are ugly and I think their music is generic rock. Perhaps people like it because it is simply done loudly. That must be it. It was their grand plan just to deafen everyone into thinking they had decent music. That got me to thinking about what other music/singers/bands that enjoy great popularity but left me cold. Take Justin Timberlake. There are all these people that think he is the best thing since sliced brea

Take a good look at these grasshopppers. Because of these grasshoppers, I endured over two months of hell. Let me explain. I'm a city gal. I get excited by nature. So, when I spied these baby grasshoppers on my hydrangea, I wanted to take a picture. Sue me. Anyhoo, after the photoshoot was complete, I set our fairly expensive digital camera on top of the dryer. I know, not exactly the best place for a camera, but I knew where it was. Then, the next day I put it in the car because we were going somewhere, and if there is even a slight chance that good pictures can be taken, the camera goes along. I placed it into the open center storage space that our Accord has under the radio. It is actually quite a cavernous opening, and things ranging from breath mints to packaged snacks to tissue lurk in its dark recesses. The camera was not used, and if I remember correctly, we didn't even get out of the car. Camera stayed put. The day after that, Hubba-hubba took Mr. Personality t

Oh argh. You know, I found myself being unable to put together a coherent thought tonight because I am pissed off that Lost is not going to be on again until February. I know, I'll repeat it in dazed shock with you. FEBRUARY! What kind of freakin' show is on for less than two montha and then takes a four month hiatus? The humanity! So, in lieu of something original, which I just don't have in me, the lovely and talented J tagged me with a meme. For which I am grateful, and you should be as well, or else there was going to be a completely lame post about like, my adolescent obsession with Duran Duran. Oh... Wait... “KNOW THYSELF” TAG! What is/are YOUR: Easy how-to ways to beat a bad mood? Well now, it depends on the type of bad mood, doesn't it? There are so many reasons to be in a bad mood, and each type of bad mood has different things that will help. If I'm just in a run-of-the-mill bad mood because the laundry needs folding, I will choose to ignore the

I keep hearing that 40 is the new 30. Brown is the new black. Pork is the new white meat. So, I thought, why not declare dirty the new clean? Thanks to the industrial revolution, we are inundated with chemicals and waste on a scale never dreamed of before those factories belched their smoke and those cars began spewing exhaust. As I was dusting today, I wondered why a layer of whitish dust couldn't be considered a "sfumato effect." As I was mopping today, I wondered why spots of dirt couldn't be considered a "mosaic" effect. As I was cleaning the bathroom mirror, I wondered why bits of shaving cream and goodness-knows-what that ends up on there couldn't be considered a "glaze." As I was rinsing the dishes, I wondered why bits of stuck on food couldn't be considered "decoration." It's all about the packaging, my friends. Join me in the new revolution! Think of how many hours a week we could save!

Travel back with me to 1983, if you will. I was attending Catholic school in my ever-so-fashionable uniform featured rightwards. My best friend in the whole world was Elizabeth. We had been best friends since the third grade, and in 1983, we were in sixth. Elizabeth and I had a special bond. We both adored Duran Duran. And what made it so especially great was that I had a crush on Simon Le Bon, and she had a crush on John Taylor. Therefore, we never competed with each other. We were on the first wave of the British Invasion, and honestly, not too many sixth graders were riding it. But Elizabeth happened to have an older brother who was in high school, and we got all of our early musical direction from him. He was cool and very good looking, so whatever he liked, we liked. I like to think that even though I developed my own taste in music as I got older, Pablo helped to show me the way. Anyhoo, Elizabeth and I would not play during recess. Oh no. We would walk slowly around th

It's dark and clammy in the Saloon. Trouble is brewing. Prime Rib: ( approaching the bar ) Ah don't like the look of ya. (Sniffs) And Ah shore don't like the way y'all smell, neither. Tequila: Hey, hombre, we ain't looking to make trouble. We are just trying to relax, eh? Prime Rib: This here stomach just ain't big enough fur the two of us. Ah'm fixin' ta be the first one in that there ol' small intestine. Tequila: Look, hermano, we were here first. Well, technically one half of us was here first, but us depressants got to stick together, si? I am sorry to tell you that it will be us into the small intestine first. First come, first served, comprende? Prime Rib: Not if Ah've got somptin' ta say about it! A brawl breaks out. It's a nasty one. Halfway through, Prime Rib calls out to Mashed Potatoes and Bread. Prime Rib: Hey, y'all wanta help me out here? Y'all are just sittin' there like a bunch o' mush. Mashed

This is what I have learned this weekend so far: Call something a club, make it hard to get in, charge people a fortune for mediocre food, and people will flock to it even if it sucks. Tequila is the elixir of the devil. I can only watch someone do coin and card tricks for five minutes. Tops. I bought an outfit that was way too dressy. What the heck was I thinking? This is Southern California, for god's sake. We wear sandals with buckles and think we are dressed up. Magicians are an odd group of people. When you are no longer having fun, even though you think you should stay because it took so much time, and effort and money, it's ok to leave. It is fun to see more than one movie at the multiplex. I swear today was the first time I ever did something like that. See, and you wonder why I like to keep myself anonymous after learning about the life of crime that I lead. I have confirmed that people who bring young children to R rated movies should be burned at the stake. Re

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For the longest time, I have thought that my blog name has sucked the big one. I debated on the title for oh, an hour or so. Little did I know that years later, I would still have this blog and its rather unimpressive name. And to make matters worse, I'm not the only one with this name. I think there is a person who started theirs perhaps a month earlier than me, the rest are just people who didn't bother to search if the name was already taken. Which is weird, because why are there multiple people with the same stupid blog name? I could see if it was something awesomely clever or something. To make matters worse, there is another blog who entered the contest with the same name. At first I thought it was mine, but no. It was a person in Alabama who just started in September. But, mine is simply the title of my favorite Oingo Boingo song. The lyrics were very indicative to how I felt at the beginning of this blog, which was to say that I was a depressed, lonely mother wi

So, ok, today is the first day of NaBloPoMo, and this is my official first post. You don't have to work so hard at concealing your excitement. Deep down, you know you are. I have the feeling that in my quest to write about something every single day during the month of November, I am going to be getting into some very weird subjects. Be prepared. Halloween was a lot of fun last night, and we went trick or treating in my sister's neighborhood because you can score some major excellent candy. No little bitty tootsie rolls over there, nope. We're talking full sized candy bars, juice boxes, playdoh, bags of cookies. All sorts of stuff. Our little firefighter was in good spirits the whole time, and seemed to be more fascinated with holding the mini flashlight than the actual candy-obtaining part. He would walk up to each house and announce that he was inspecting for fires. He takes his job very seriously, you know. Allrighty then, first post of November is done. Hey, ther