Change of Pace

                Back in the day – like when I just assumed I would obviously someday choose to have kids I was all “I’m going to be the kind of mom that gets up every day at 6am to shower and put on my makeup before I start the day.”  Now I’m all if I ever accidentally have a kid I’m hiring a nanny to come over so I can do things that are important to me – like shower. 

Last week I babysat my niece for two and a half days (with the help of my brother) and let me just tell you I’m hopping right back on that “Babies ‘R Not For Me” train again.  I know I’m only 25, and I’m not getting married any time soon so this is essentially a non-issue – but I was driving that train right after my sister had her baby and a year and half later I was starting to think maybe I shouldn’t be making such a decisive statement.  Then she came to visit.

Don’t get me wrong – my niece is an incredibly simple child.  She loves her naps.  She hardly cries.  Eating is a struggle – she turned down the cheese quesadilla and dipped her raisins in the sour cream one night for dinner.  She did, however, demolish the treats we got her from Dunkin Donuts.  Here’s the thing though.  She never sits still.  And no it’s not just because I gave her two munchkins. 

Also, the concept of repetition is lost on this tiny person.  She only said like four phrases for the whole time she was here.  Not that she can't say more things.  She just likes to say the same things. A lot.  Boyfriend seems to think that us grownups are just making her gibberish sound like words but let me tell you the baby knows what she’s saying.

Baby:  “Elmo Whaa Whaa?”

Me/Brother: “What? Water?”

Baby: “Elmo Whaa Whhhaaa??”

Me/Brother: (Hesitantly)  “Elmo Quack Quack?”

Baby: “YEEEAAA!!”

Me: “I’m going to shoot myself in the face.”

Brother:  “Ohhhh no.  You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

She literally asked for Elmo Quack Quack on YouTube at least 47 million times and simultaneously was hoping to listen to the Dora the Explorer theme song.  She was all “Do Do?  Mo Do Do.”  And Brother was all trying to reason with this irrational person with “You chose Elmo.  You’re watching Elmo!” To which she obv was all “Mo Do Do?”  *Face Palm*

Speaking of Dora - where are her parents?  One episode we watched Dora was all "my mom packed my blueberries for a snack today."  Oh really.  Great mom you have there.  Gives you some berries and sends you out into the jungle, where we all know there is that villain fox on the loose, with nothing more than a singing backpack and a monkey who wears red boots.  I'm thinking someone needs to call CPS.  Do we know where Dora lives?

Anyway, we took my niece to the Buffalo Zoo – thinking she would be pumped to see things like animals.  She was more interested in the other babies in strollers.  We’d stop at an exhibit and we’d be all “Do you see that? Oh they’re sleeping. Shhh.”  As we stoop down to stroller eye level to confirm that she could, in fact, see the animal from her vantage point – had she not been looking at the kids running around behind us or pointing to the path and telling us she’s bored with “More?” 

After 2 hours of entertainment and my brother insisting that all he wants to see in the whole world is an ocelot.  Which, come to find out the Buffalo Zoo does house an ocelot – unfortunately it was not in its display.  We finally find a duck.  And me and Brother were all “Look! Quack Quack!” and the baby was all bored and pointing to keep moving…”More?”  Turns out?  All that Elmo Quack Quack nonsense?  Has nothing to do with the ducks.  Who knew? 

This is when I learned that it clearly takes 2 grownups to manage one mobile toddler.  I also concluded that all you people who have more than one of these people, on purpose, are saints and maybe a super hero because – there is no way I am cut out for that kind of chaos in my life.  I napped both days for two hours while she slept and her mother was the one who got up with her at 6am.  But I still couldn't pull off a full day.  Note to self though.  If I ever have a kid - I will tackle and/or karate chop any person who even attempts to introduce them to Elmo or that crazy bi-lingual child explorer. 

In case you too had no idea what the crap an ocelot is.

Come. On.

                I don’t consider myself a particularly friendly person.  I try to avoid people for the most part because I suck as making small talk.  It is torturous when I see people trying to think of something to say to me in awkward situations like – waiting in line for something.  Or in an elevator – which thankfully I never have to take those because I’m super scared of them. Or unfortunately walking the same route as someone else to parking lot. And most recently I've been unable to dodge some conversations that have left me wondering 'is this real life?!' 

                At work as I’m doing my best to keep my eyes open and my head down so I can get coffee and water for my oatmeal packet without speaking to any humans because well – I am no morning person:

                Man:     “You’ve got that oatmeal measurement down huh?”

                Me:        “Yes.”

               Whhhat?  It is of no concern of yours what my preferred oatmeal to water ratio is.

                Next day – same person, second cup of coffee and therefore no more oatmeal:

   Man:     “Finished your oatmeal already?”

   Me:        “Yes.”

   Now it’s certainly no concern of yours what I ate for breakfast.  But thanks.

At work, as I was leaving, wearing my North Face over my dress - so I didn’t have to carry it:

                Man:     “You look like you’re dressed for summer from the waist down.”

                Me:        “Oh. Ha. My office is chilly.”

                Man:     “Too bad we can’t see the top of that dress.”

                Me:        “Oh.”

                  Awkwardddd.

                Leaving work a different day after I made the mistake of not wearing heels – which apparently is messing with everyone’s sense of morality or something?

                Man:     “It’s so weird not to see you in high heels.”

                Me:        “Oh. “

                Man:     “I mean I’m just so used to seeing you in heels.”

                Me:        “Ok.”

              Man:     (Who ruined my plan to park at an alternate door as to avoid continuing such thrilling conversations by also parking by that door)  Proceeds to tell me some story about a different girl that I don’t know, who almost fell down the stairs because she wears heels and something about Karma because he thinks she’s a B-word.

                Me:        (Grateful to finally be in the parking lot)  Have a good evening.

               Why is my footwear a matter of national security?! Sometimes I like to wear comfortable shoes.  Incidentally, those flats are less comfortable than my heels.  But whatev.

                So with that being said, I’m thinking I’m going to implement a high five policy.  I’m going to just high five people who say things to me that I don’t think they should be saying.  I don’t think you can leave someone hanging right?  They’ll have to high five me back.  And then the next time they want to try and think of something to say to me they’ll remember that I’m the girl who high fived them and they prob won’t know why I did that and maybe that won’t want to roll the dice on that happening again and they’ll slow they’re roll and take the hallway at a more staggered pace as to avoid having to come up with something brilliant to say to me?  Thoughts?

                Concerns.  I’m slightly OCD and high fiving people constantly would force me to have to up the hand washing count - which is already pretty high.  I can’t handle any more antibacterial gel – my hands see enough of that when I go places and touch door handles, use shopping carts, pump gas, sign credit card slips with the same pen the whole entire world uses or go to the ATM.  Pretty much after I touch things any other person else might have touched before me.  I don’t trust that people didn’t choose to wash their germy hands with body wash rather than anti-bacterial hand soap after using the restroom resulting in pomegranate scented germs being transferred to the door handles. 

 I’m thinking I’ll need to use the fist pound instead.  Less personal contact.  To be determined whether or not I’ll incorporate the explosion.  But seriously, if people feel like they need to talk to me – they do not.  And if you feel like you need to get me to ask you a question by sighing loudly to initiate the conversation – I will not.  I will, however, stop resisting the urge to congratulate you for being such an awesome conversationalist.  

Welcome to Atlanta Where the Playas Play

Boyfriend:  “Today is going to be the worst day ever!”

Me: “Because I’m leaving?”

Boyfriend: “…Yes….and because I could fall asleep standing up.”

                This year, so far, has been my biggest travel year life to date.  Four trips booked or taken, thus far, and all east of the Mississippi - as to maintain my claim to fame that I have never been west of that river.   I have no aversion to traveling west.  I just don’t know people who live there who want me to come see them.  Anyway, last Thursday I took my third trip of 2011.  Went to Atlanta, GA, to see my oldest and dearest friend.   (She’s not old.  We’ve just been friends since diapers.  And she bought me a teddy bear with a yellow ribbon around his neck for my first birthday party ever.)  Apparently that’s the equation for a life time of Michael W. Smith “Friends are Friends Forever” friendship? 

                I’ve probably flown only ten times my whole entire life.  Maybe twelve.  Doesn’t matter.  And I’ve flown to see her like four of those times.  Thankfully she’s always lived in much more desirable climates than I have – even though Niagara Falls is supposedly the honeymoon destination of the world.  Which – if you’re planning your honeymoon, I’d say maybe breeze by this location in the travel guide.  You’ll certainly be sorely disappointed.  Anyway, she wisely, went to college in West Palm Beach, FL.  And lucky for me – I visited there a few times to defrost for a week or so on spring breaks.  Now she lives in Atlanta.  And after this “Spring” we’ve had - which has been alternating rain and snow until like yesterday when we switched over to just rain, I was ready to see some sun.     

                Friday was beautiful – like gorgeous, and we sat by the pool for an hour.  This is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me.  I got some sun.  Was careful not to get burned. (High five from Mom?)  And then we went shopping.  I bought zero shoes and only dresses - still following my plan to only buy dresses and shoes for the rest of my life.  Probably won’t last long, but that’s all I want right now - so if you have a link to awesome dresses send it my way. (Facebook already told me about ModCloth – but I’m open to any and all others.)  So pretty much awesome day.  Poolside and mall sounds like a little piece of heaven.  Well until my friend’s daughter filled her diaper with something I’ve never seen come out of a tiny human before in my life.  (And I’ve changed more than two diapers.)  Kids, always good for a laugh – and an inopportune need for a new diaper.

                I think the diaper was a sign of things to come because from that point on everyone except me and the baby was SICK with capitals S-I-C and K.  Worked out well that I was there to hold the baby.  And to make magic cupcakes.  Which apparently a few ended up in the sink in another comedy of errors that involved a diaper change.  But I had a so fun time seeing my friends and meeting their baby.  And now the good TSA people of Atlanta have a picture of naked me instead of someone’s Gram.  Good of them to switch us and let her go through the metal detector and me through the x-ray picture taker machine after I had gotten in the metal detector line - on purpose.

                Also thanks to the Phillies being in town we missed out on a Ludacris and Jermaine Dupri concert at Turner Field – which I would have sang right along with them because who doesn’t want to be welcomed to Atlanta where you can “...hit streets, see gangsta’s roamin’ and parties don’t stop till eight in the mornin’ “ by Ludacris himself?  Worked out anyway because of the throwing up sickness that happened. Plus i don't like the Phillies.  And I super don't like them in their throwback jerseys.  So it was for the best that we missed it.  

See?  Stupid. And ugly.

               As far as my 2011 travels go - Atlanta wins this year.  Based on the fact that I didn't have to walk anywhere.  And it was WARM.  And I got to meet the baby. I should very much like to go back there again some time.  Now we just have to hope I don't get the plague they had.

                 

Keeping up With the Joneses...and Maybe Even the Kardashians?

                It’s 2011.  People have smart phones.  And by people, I mean mostly everyone in the whole entire world carries a phone that does more than talk and text.  And everyone now includes my boyfriend.  As of last Saturday.  We went to Verizon and got him his iPhone.  And he thinks it’s magic.  Personally, I’m on my second BlackBerry so I think that makes me a smart phone user for like three years. The magic is long gone.  Now it’s a necessity.  And I’m your stereotypical BlackBerry user – the girl that literally gets anxiety when that little red light is flashing.  I can do nothing else until I make it stop.  Even though it’s nothing urgent.  I mean no one is going to email/text me to tell me someone died.  It’s usually just email from Shutterfly trying to get me to buy some pictures, or a book of pictures, or a mug with a picture on it.

                Anyway for a new smart phone owner I guess it looks like magic.  So far these are the magical things it does.  It has Google Maps.  It encouraged him to get a Gmail account.  It has Pandora.

                “You do realize that all the smart phones have been doing all these things for years right? And also that I’ve had a Pandora account for the better part of a decade.”

                “But look how awesome this is.”

                “Please turn off that crap before I throw your new phone into a wall”  Evil pouty face until it stops.   

What? He was playing loud, shoot em up, Gangsta, eff your  Mother music from the early 90’s – during the commercials of my fave television program Modern Family with the volume of the TV on at the same time.  So many things wrong with that scenario – beginning and ending with the fact that he was singing along with Ice Cube – who I know from Law and Order SVU.  So if the guy ended up casted on Law and Order, I’m saying his music prob wasn’t so awesome to begin with?   But that’s just me.  Boyfriend will argue otherwise.

                

             Also he had like three hours while I was at school to play as much gangster music as he wanted to without a single complaint from the girlfriend. 

                There is one thing I am super excited about his iPhone for though - he agreed to let me Skype with my sister and niece using his phone.  He downloaded the app last night and I am pumped.  To be determined if I’m going to be allowed to touch the phone or not.  Something about setting me up with the phone in its case that stands up.  Whatever – I’m not the one that drops their phone twice a day.  It’s probably safer with me anyway.

Story of my life. As of 5 days ago.  

               One other thing.  If anyone really does know some real magic - as in spells.  The kind that would make me look great in a bathing suit in like - seven days.  Please let me know.  It's kind of an emergency.  And I'm not looking to give up eating ice cream. Ever.  (That's why I need the magic.)

Sweet Home Alabama

One time, I visited two of my most favorite people in the whole entire world, in Alabama.  That was a few years ago.  They took me on a tour of the area.  Showed me the Alabama campus where Em attended and where her heart is.

Today, she emailed pleading for help after her college town was demolished by a tornado earlier this week - suggesting that donating to the Red Cross Disaster Relief is the best way we can physically help out.

So - while we're all grateful that Em and Cliff are safe and sound, maybe you have a few extra dollars this week (after all, it is Pay Day) to chip in and help some strangers who lost everything they own in this world?

End of an Era

                Well.  It’s official.  After half a decade, 110,000 miles (80% of which were probably accumulated on the 90), one car accident, two speeding tickets, one smashed in passenger window per the crack head in Delaware Park and 47 jump starts, I bought a new vehicle.  Goodbye Tucson, hello glorified Tucson.  Ok not really, but kind of.  I bought a Honda CR-V.  Which is like a better Tucson for all intents and purposes?  Except with all those neat features that the Tucson doesn’t have like starting when I turn the key.

 

                Boyfriend tells me that some poor high school student is going to go to an auction somewhere and end up buying the Tucson for like five dollars or something. I'm still hoping someone lets me light it on fire. Just in case they don't, I’m thinking I need to provide the next owner with a disclaimer or at least a revision to the owner’s manual.  And a set of complimentary jumper cables.  It would look something like this:

                Hope you like it super hot or super cold – the fan only works on HIGH.

Find a significant other who follows you to your job and to school and pretty much anywhere you might have to turn the car off and go inside and need to turn it on again to leave. 

Sorry about the Oxy-Clean in the cargo area and there may or may not be throw up in the passenger side door.  You can thank my boyfriend for that.  I know I did.

You will need a set of jumper cables, a spare battery and probably you should just go ahead and hire your own mechanic to ride with you everywhere.

You’re welcome for the new, upgraded radio.  Some Tucson problem solving internet board lied to me and said that would fix the battery issues so I bought that one.

As far as the “holy sh**” handle on the passenger side goes? That inexplicably fell and smacked my friend in the face one day.  It’s now in the compartment in the door – maybe super glue will help.

The tires are crap.  That’s why you have this car now and not me.  Get some new ones.

I used to have a key chain clicker.  That’s gone the way of the dinosaur.  Doesn’t matter much anyway – the locks only work when they feel like it.  Usually you have to go around all Flintstone-like, climbing over seats to let people in.

The left turn signal has started to choose when it will click off after completing the turn.  Remember this and don’t be ‘that guy’ who drives around making everyone think he’s about to make a left hand turn into oncoming traffic or the river.

I think that’s about all the tricks of the trade.  Guess it was about time to get a new, dependable vehicle.  Boyfriend confirmed with something like “I’m not jumping that thing one more time, you're going to start something on fire.”  All I know is the next Tucson owner should not plan to go farther than walking distance from their home.  So long Tucson, I’m on to smaller and shinier things. 

The Tucson's Successor

Almost Famous...?

         So today I hop on YouTube to listen to some music in my continuing effort to drown out the Cupid Shuffle and on my recommended videos I see this: 

                            Yes, that is, in fact, me.  I obv sent it to Boyfriend who replied with:

“You still make that frown face.”

“For the record.”

What. Ever.

I always tell Boyfriend that I used to be on tv. 

                Now to explain: for those of you unfamiliar with early 90’s NY capital district tv programming – which, ironically enough, I am not familiar with any other programming aside from these commercials.  My father made them.  He needed kids.  We were kids.  We were in the commercials.  My brother got lucky enough to hide under a sheet.  Even though he kept poking his fingers through.  But I didn’t even get to really wear the mask.  Apparently I needed to be upset that the fat guy was eating all my candy.  And since we weren’t allowed to trick or treat the whole concept was foreign to me anyway and that’s how you end up with the frown face seen here.

                There was one day we had to ride the carousel at the mall for like four hours straight.  I never rode that thing again after.  And one day we had to go to Fort William Henry during the off season and apparently they keep dogs there to guard and we had to pay more attention to not step in dog crap than we could to whatever commercial we were supposed to be a part of.  Thankfully I don’t think any of these have made it into circulation and I’m hoping those VHS’ are packed away under lock and key somewhere in my parent’s basement.

                In summary, I’m not only a world famous blogger – with the overwhelming popularity of 13 followers, I am also 200-something hits on YouTube worth of awesome and I know you all are jealous.  And in my defense – I had PANTS on that day.  The socks would not have been visible if I had not had to tuck the pants up under the costume.  The haircut we won’t talk about, I can't explain the sneakers and the teeth got fixed with a year and a half of braces.