Monday, April 30, 2012

A Marriage Proposal of Sorts

I thought my boyfriend would never ask. I mean for crying out loud, we’ve known each other for six years and we’ve been living together for almost three. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever ask. He’s been getting it for free for-EVER. I would never say it out loud but I was feeling a little, shit or get off the pot.

Last week we went to Costco to pick up a few bulky things, that we really didn’t need. As soon as we walked in, my boyfriend realized that he had forgotten his card, so off we went to customer service, to get a temporary card. And that’s when it happened. “Hey, let’s get an additional card for you. Might as well, right.” My heart started pounding, I flushed like a little girl, and I’m pretty sure that was a tear rolling down my cheek. “Do you mean it? You want me on your Costco account?” He rolled his eyes and gave me that familiar look of, what is wrong with you.

Okay, so it was only a Costco card, but it felt like a marriage proposal. We were married in the eyes of Costco as far as I was concerned. It didn’t matter that my boyfriend was oblivious to this simple transaction. And the bonus was that my picture came out great. Of course it’s black and white and the size of a raisin, but that’s when I look the best.

This Costco marriage continued when we soldiered on to Macy's. After buying a salad spinner, yes mother, I know I could’ve gotten it cheaper pretty much anywhere else, but I had a coupon, so back it up lady.

For the record, I detest shopping for clothes. I always have and I suspect that I always will. My boyfriend is much better at it. After I tried on several pairs of pants, that did nothing for my derriere and even less for my ego, we shifted focus to my boyfriend and his pursuit of a linen suit.

The next several hours, yes, I did just write several, I followed him around like a good little Geisha. I cradled potential slacks and shirts in my arms, searched the entire first floor for an available alterations expert, and collected receipts from my Costco husband so they wouldn’t end up as shriveled paper balls in the dryer. I sat on the faux leather banquette, outside of the dressing room, with other Geisha’s, and waited for my master’s fashion show. I felt like a complete and utter WIFE.

Upon returning home, I took one last fall when I said the following, to my boyfriend, “Wow, that’s a nice garbage pail that you bought. It’s really big and looks sturdy.” Why don’t I just sew up my lady parts, put on an apron and call it a day.

On second thought honey, I don’t want my own Costco card. It’s the devil’s spawn.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

The ABC's Of Me

I'm a member of a terrific site, VoiceBoks, and the powers that be thought that this was a great way to get other members to check you out and see what you do all day. I think that's what this was about. I don't really know. It just looked like a fun thing to do.

I totally ripped off the poem idea from Dawn Douglas, so it's only fair that I give her a shout out. However, I do believe that mine is a wee more risque. Enjoy.

A is for the asinine things that I do.
B is for when I bungee jumped over a zoo. (not really, it was a bridge, but also a B)

C is for Cher, my childhood idol.
D is for Dani, I never took Midol.

E is for ear piercings, of which I have six.
F is for funny, feisty and flicks.

G is for Girlfriend Mom, need I say more.
H is for the hysteria that wasn’t in the brochure.

I is for my iphone, ipod and such.
J is for the joy, man these I’s give me so much.

K is for the kitchen, thankfully not my domain.
L is for the love, I pray will keep me sane.

M is for my mom, and your mom too.
N is for the “No” she often spewed.

O are for orgasms, one or many.
P is for Pilates for orgasms aplenty.

Q is for Quebec, skiing and beauty.
R is for reruns of The Facts Of Life and Tootie. (I realize that was a stretch)

S is for sex, see letters O and P.
T are for the times with lover and his kids, making it we.

U are for the UTI’s that are no fun at all.
V is for my vagina that’s always on call. 

W is for my new website that’s coming soon.
X is for the Xanax that makes me swoon.

Z is for the Zumba that I once tried, not able to pop and lock, I walked out and cried. 

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The Great Toilet Seat Debate

Are you like me and feel that the whole, toilet seat up or down, argument that men and women have been engaged in since the late 1800's, is beyond hackneyed? Can anything actually be beyond hackneyed?

Anyway, last night, my boyfriend managed to put a whole new spin on this age old feud.

HIM: Can you keep the toilet seat up?
ME: Not really. It smells.

Side note. In our house, we live by the ol' adage (courtesy of yours truly), "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down." So you see, if the seat is up and it's yellow, it could be sitting there for a spell, and eventually that shits going to smell.

HIM: Then flush it more.
ME: No can do. That's not house policy. And it's wasteful.
HIM: It's really annoying, especially at night.
ME: Really?
Him: Yeah, it's dark and I have to bend down to lift the seat up. And you know I hate bending because of my back. 
ME: Well, I don't want you to hurt your back.
HIM: And it's extra bending for me because of my short arms.

I'm sorry but using the Cee Lo Green line of defense was simply too funny to argue with. If you don't know what I'm talking about. Regard!
Cee Lo on left... "My arms are too short to box with the toilet seat lid, yo."

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Holocaust Remembrance Day

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. It's one of those times when, I believe, nothing more needs to be said.

I read the post below this morning, and it moved me to tears. It wasn't the tales of horror, but rather what it said about humanity.

I'll also be reflecting a bit more than usual today, and aiming for a touch more silence.

the GM

Knowing Jack: Holocaust Remembrance Day 2012

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Do You Know The Blended Family Shorthand?

I will admit that it was only recently that I learned what LMFAO stood for. Maybe it’s because I prefer to speak in complete sentences, using actual words. I know it takes a bit longer, especially when texting, but I am not going to abbreviate ‘in my opinion’, with imo. Because I h8 abbreviations. And yes, I do like the feel of a nice Uni-ball fine pen on a crisp white legal pad. 

So you can imagine my shock when, researching blended family websites, and step-parenting blogs, I came across the list below. It’s challenging enough, living with a man who has kids, fighting to carve out my place in a family already in progress, but now I have to decipher acronyms?

What, in the name of that sweet little baby Jesus, is wrong with using a complete name? Are we in that big of a rush, that we just don't have the time to write out, or heaven forbid, say, Stepson?

I had my own ideas of what these abbreviations stood for.They're noted in BOLD.

    •    BS = Biological Son; Term can be used by a parent who is also a stepparent to describe their own biological children.
        Where I come from, BS always meant bullshit. As in, these shortcuts are bullshit. Although in this case, an abbreviation is appropriate because it’s not nice to say shit in public.

    •    SS = Stepson or Step-siblings; Term used by stepparent to describe a stepchild without identifying the child by name. Step-siblings refer to a group of step-children who all share the same biological parents.
        This is obvious... the SS... WW II... ring any bells?

    •    SD = Step-daughter; Term can used by stepparent to describe a daughter brought into the relationship by a biological parent who is now the stepparent's mate. 
        Just a ‘T’ away from sexually transmitted disease.

    •    DD = Daughter of (my) Divorce or Divorced Dad; Term stepparents use to describe a daughter born from previous marriage with the husband/wife they have divorced. Remarried individuals use this term to describe a person who has a daughter from a previous relationship. In forums and groups the phrase is mostly used by stepmothers.
        Didi Conn, “Frenchie” from Grease? Yeah, okay, that was a stretch.

    •    DS = Divorced Son, or Son of (my) divorce; Term stepparents use to describe a son born from previous marriage with the husband/wife they have divorced. Remarried individuals use this term to describe a person who has a son from a previous relationship. Phrase is mostly used by stepmothers.
        I don’t have anything for this because it’s asinine.

    •    DH = Divorced Husband; Term used by a previously married woman to describe an ex husband and/or to describe a current husband who was previously married to someone else.
        See DS.

    •    DM = Divorced Mom; Term usually used by men to describe an ex wife with whom he shares children and/or to refer to his current wife who has children from a previous relationship.
       Depeche Mode.

    •   SK = step-kid; Term used generally to describe a stepchild.
        No, it’s the internet country code for Slovakia- oh, yes it is.

    •    BD = Biological Dad; Term used to describe a custodial or non-custodial parent who is also a man.
        Add Wong, and you’ve got the actor who plays, Dr. George Huang, Law & Order, SVU.

    •    BM = Biological Mom; Term used to describe a custodial or non-custodial parent who is also a woman.
        This is too easy. BOWEL MOVEMENT. It will always be bowel movement, no matter how long I’m in this blended family circus!

What the blended family acronym committees haven’t included, is an abbreviation for a woman like myself; unmarried, no children pulled from my tender loins, living with a man who has kids, with custodial rights every other weekend.

According to the list above, I’m not a DM, and I’m not a CSM (Childless Step Mom), an abbreviation curiously absent from the above list. Thus, I give you the GM. Not General Motors. Not General Manager. The Girlfriend Mom! You’re welcome.

And just when you thought that would be the end of this tomfoolery, some genius, with a lot of time on their hands, decided to add numbers after the acronym, signifying the ages of the individual that they’re attached to. Because, again, it's just too time consuming to say, and or write, "My stepson is 18 years old."

Now, instead of a family unit, comprised of unique personalities, and distinctive styles and traits, we’ve become numbers and a part of a friggin’ algebra problem.

My boyfriend is a BHDM18,13 and I’m a GM0, who has to go lay down now because my head is spinning.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Pilates in Dubai, UAE

A little late in posting, and not very straight, and they misspelled my blog address but you get the idea!