Just Another Day

Mr. P and I were walking to the diamond where his Tee-ball practice was going to be held. The "diamond" is really just a backstop on the infield of a track. We were on that track, minding our own business, Mr. P wandering along as five year olds are wont to do. Then his amble turned into a sudden veer to the right as some whim overtook him to go that way. Unfortunately, that veer took him right into the path of a nine year old on a bicycle. Going much too fast for a track with people walking on it. I watched it all in that famous slo-mo where your mouth opens to scream, but it all happens too quickly for you to actually do anything other than scream. I think I scared the crap out of the kid on the bike, actually. And before I knew it, five year old, nine year old and nine year old's bike were in the dirt. With the five year old on the bottom. That bike hit him really hard, pushing him forward and down, with the wheel making impact on his right hip. I pulled the nin

The preschool I am sending Mr. P to is a religious one, Lutheran to be exact. Even though I'm not Lutheran, I am cool with them and religion in general. I am of the mind that a background of religious instruction is important for a young mind. If he chooses a different religious path later in life, that's fine. But at least he will have the exposure and firsthand knowledge of what religion is. Anyhoo, he tells me on the way home that a classmate was sick, and so they prayed for him. There was an ambulance that went down the street during class, and they also prayed for the person whom the ambulance was going to pick up. And without warning, from the backseat of the car comes this rant: "Pray, pray, pray! That's all we do all the time is pray! Somebody is sick, we pray. Somebody died, we pray. We pray too much !" Trying not to laugh, I told him that the school he will be attending next year will involve no praying at all. "Yay!" My friends, he actua

Ok, Sunshine is now asking for horrible prom stories, and if you want to read what I wrote last year, feel free to go here . Let's talk a bit about what a pain in the butt it was to find a dress. Now back then, I had a hot bod. It's too bad I didn't really realize it, but I did. All I knew was that my upper half was a larger size than my bottom half. And actually that is still true to this day. Because of this, I was very much a separates kind of gal. It's the boobs, I tell you. They just keep getting in my way. Dress shopping was sheer torture because something that fit on the bottom didn't fit on the top and vice versa. Beautiful dresses would be stretched to nearly the ripping point on the bust and be perfect on the waist, or my waist floated around in there somewhere and it fit wonderfully up top. It was a seemingly never ending slog, and my best friend Michelle, who truly had a perfect body, listened to me patiently while I bitched. By the time I reache

Yes my friends, it is that time of the year yet again. The gorgeous and phenomenal Sunshine is hosting a blog prom! And she's my date! This year she wanted a wrist corsage, and a wrist corsage she shall have. Uhhh, well, I've never really picked out a wrist corsage for a date, so I declare it shall have some pink flowers on it and be purty! Can you tell I am excited simply by the sheer number of exclamation points I am using?! Anyhoo, go on over and check out the party that is happening all week long! Grab a date of your own, or be a slut and troll around and try to find one there. Aaaand, Sunshine happens to possess the only picture of me floating around on the internets that I know of. It was my prom pic from way back in the late eighties, and let's see if she posts it again this year. In keeping with the prom theme, I present to you the theme song from my prom back in 1989, "Hold On to the Night" by Richard Marx. I'm sorry to have to subject you t

I consider myself a pretty good cook. Not the best in the world, but certainly able to whip up some tasty fare. I love eggs, and I pride myself on my seasoning ability. And yet, Hubba-hubba sees fit to drench my precious eggs in ketchup, thereby obliterating any seasoning efforts. I get a little cranky when this happens, and sort of rebel by not cooking eggs at all. He says I'm overreacting. So, ketchup on eggs- tasty or revolting?

Today I got my hair done. We had to start putting more blonde into the mix, as my hair is getting grayer and grayer, even though I'm not even freaking forty yet. Sigh. I inherited the early salt gene, but it looks much better on my Dad than it ever could on me. Anyhoo, I went to the salon while Mr. P was at school, and went directly from there to pick him up. I was chatting with another mom when the door to the classroom opened. "Oh, your hair looks so good!" said the teacher. "Oh yes, it looks fantastic!" chimed the other mom, "I was going to say something, I love it!" Well, ok then. I'm glad everyone is liking my hair. I am feeling pretty darn good about myself at this point in time. Then on the way out to the car, I saw another mom and she said, "Oh look, somebody got their hair done! I love the color!" All right, hold on a minute. My good feelings are now significantly deflated. Either I need a modeling contract this very minu

Just the other day while waiting for our kids to be dismissed from school, some of us moms started talking about sleep. Or more like how they can't get their children to partake willingly of said activity. Not trying to pat myself on the back too hard, I spoke aloud about how Mr. P is a fabulous sleeper. Never fights to go to bed, sleeps all night, wakes up at a pretty decent hour. I should have known that to speak of such things is to instantly curse yourself. Because lo and behold, last night marked the fourth night in a row that Mr. P woke up at some sort of ungodly hour. The first night it was to make a visit to the restroom at 4am, where he proceeded to sit on the toilet for twenty minutes. Granted it was an, er, productive session, but still. The next night 4am again, this time with no real reason. The next night more of the same. Then last night he progressed to waking up 2am, which is a twisted definition of progress, but I'm grasping at straws here, my friends.

Hubba-hubba sat on the edge of the bed. Him: I had to get rid of it. I had to let it go. Me: What in the world are you talking about? Him: My shirt. My "Wanna Trade?" shirt! It had a huge hole in the armpit and I decided to throw it out. Me: Thank God! This shirt now residing in the trash was a Disney shirt emblazoned with this particular query, which has to do with pin-trading at Disneyland. And the odd thing is that the answer from him would always be a resounding no because he doesn't collect or trade Disney pins. He was expressly forbidden to wear it outside of the house. But of course, when I wasn't around he would do it anyway. However, it was a cheap shirt, so it could have said almost anything and he would have bought it. You see, there was a time in his life when Hubba-hubba refused to spend more than five dollars on a shirt. The irony of this is that he had way more money back then, what with no house payment or child. But, when he thinks he can find

When I was a freshman in high school, I somehow discovered the Monkees. I spent the majority of the year obsessed with them, even going so far as to program our (then) cutting edge VCR to tape all the episodes. A few years later my Mom "accidentally" taped over them so that she could watch her freaking General Hospital. I was pissed. I still kind of am, since I wrote "GINA'S TAPE" all over it. I don't know how many people have actually watched any of the Monkees shows, but they were actually pretty funny. And continuing in my tradition of liking funny men, I was enamored of Mickey Dolenz, not the pretty little English Davey Jones. One of their biggest hits, "Daydream Believer" was one of my least favorite songs. "Last Train to Clarkesville" was more my style. Enjoy!

What beverage do you drink the most? Not necessarily your favorite, but what seems to always wind up in your hand?

I don't have much to say tonight, I am still slowly recovering and hope to be at about 80% by tomorrow. Dude, it sucks. But, if you live in the state of California, my sister the teacher sent me this email, of which I will copy the pertinent parts for you. This is about our children's education, so I urge you to take part if you can! I actually always make fun of people who say, "But think of the children!" But in this case, I'm thinking differently. Sorry it came out all wonky in the cut and paste! Dear Friends, The PTAs are trying to FLOOD the Capitol with phone calls to put pressure on the Governor to present a May Revise budget that does not suspend Proposition 98. If this effort is successful & Prop 98 is NOT SUSPENDED then California's Unified school districts will not have to make many of the proposed million cuts that will be so devastating to our children. What You Can Do ANYTIME BETWEEN 9AM & 5PM ALL PARENTS & CONCERNED CITIZENS PLEASE D

It was supposed to be a weekend with a lot of fun and mayhap even a bit of debauchery. Mr. P was being whisked away for the weekend by his grandparents, and we had hours upon hours to ourselves. Except it didn't quite turn out that way. This are some conversational snippets, verbatim, from this weekend: Me: Oh, God. I'm shivering, I've got goosebumps. Him: It's one hundred degrees and you're shivering? You've got some problems, for sure. Here's another blanket. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Him: Drink this! You need to drink! You're dehydrated! Me: Since when does dehydration come with a 102 fever? Him: Trust me, I know these things. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Him: Drink this! You're dehydrated! Me: I dare you to Google the symptoms for dehydration! Him: Mutter, mutter... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Him: Drink! You're dehydrated! Me: I swear, I'm gonna kick you if you say that one more time. Him: I Googled dehydration

All right, do you eat birthday cake with or without ice cream?

Now that I have that miraculous satellite delivering me all sorts of goodies on the telly. (except for the p*rn on Cinemax. I stumbled across that crap one night, not knowing it was there, and was immediately struck at how stupid everyone looks and that it is SO for men, not women. I could explain, but my topic is supposed to be about something else today.) Urgh, ok, where was I again? Oh yes, lots of television stations. I happen to get the Travel Channel which means I get to see this man on "No Reservations." I have no idea, really, why I find him so attractive, but I do. Maybe it is because he is a total smart-ass. He is also intelligent and funny, a combination I find irresistible in almost any man. He also writes ten times better than I do, which is annoying, but I will be nice and overlook that tiny fault. For some reason many people seem not to like him, and I'm not sure why. Is it because of his brash New York-ish sense of the world? New Yorkers are what they

Let me begin by saying that I am of the opinion that China should never have been awarded the Olympics. Many things about China upset me. Probably too many to list here, for it would bore you and you would go away to read a post about a toddler who said something funny. Ok, well how about the oppression and imprisonment of dissidents? Or the occupation of Tibet? The artificially low yen? The lack of freedom of expression and access to information? The exploitation of their people as a source of cheap labor? Yeah, those things. I couldn't help myself, sorry. I sort of understand the people who say, "Oh well, this will really put the spotlight on China and this will just speed up the inevitable opening of their society." But, I call BS on that one. It's actually kind of like when you are dealing with a toddler. Do you reward them with ice cream when they have just hit their baby sister in the head? Of course you don't. Because that would be positive reinfo

I just cannot keep it together. So much to do and so little time to do it. I think it's all these damn birthday parties. It seems like a frickin' birthday party every weekend, sometimes two in one weekend. It's a bit much. Today's party I swear had over eighty people. At least eighty people for a kid's birthday party. And yes, their place was huge. Granted, it seemed that many were family, and a big family it was. So that's cool and all. I just covet their kitchen, which I think was bigger than half of my house. I'm not even kidding. So, onto some music to get you in the mood to start the week off. When Bush came on the scene back in the 90's, I wasn't really all that into them. But then again, I had never heard this song. I think it is beautiful, and it makes me feel peaceful and sleepy. Which is a good thing. Uhh, and this video has some people gettin' it on a bit, just a warning. But let me just say that if Gavin Rossdale and I g

I've been watching a lot of "What Not to Wear" now that I have satellite. So, is your wardrobe fab or in need of some help?

For some strange reason, men find this video a lot less funny than women do.

After Mr. P's tee ball practice today, I took him out to dinner because Hubba-hubba wasn't going to be home to eat with us and I figured, what the heck, I am lazy and don't feel like cooking. So I'm sitting there and the restaurant we are dining in happens to be across the parking lot from a gym. I see this woman with a harness on her upper body, and a smirking guy behind her holding a rope that is attatched the the harness. She is trying to run fast, and he is using the rope as resistance training. At least, I really hope that's what he was doing. And while I totally understand the desire to be and the importance of being fit, it is only in America that we would pay someone good money to put a harness on us and humiliate us in public. I'm just sayin'.