a breezy week in the life of your average, working mom

• sunday- throw smallish bday party for 2 year old (4 tantrums); host mom until 11pm (both get drunk and I get weepy)
• monday - my fat chihuaua instigates a fight, injured and in shock (3 tantrums)
• tuesday- day off of work to enjoy lil peanut's bday (5 tantrums; 2 from hubby), take fat chihuahua to emergency vet, catch-up on work for several hours late into evening (1 massive bedtime tantrum)
• wednesday - work (6 meetings), client drinks, dog meds (2 tantrums)
• thursday - lil' peanut's 2 year doctor check-up, work (5 meetings), prep for hubby's surgery tomorrow, painter comes for estimate, watch a miserable episode of LOST (3 tantrums)
• friday - 7am pilates, work remotely at hospital while hubby gets knee surgery (6 meetings) , get him home, hubby meds, dog meds (2nd vet visit?)
• saturday - solo tip to fairway with lil peanut, tend to hubby, 'music together' class, trip to city?
• sunday - lil peanut swim class, tend to hubby, baby niece arrives??

and my US Weekly wasn't delivered again this week. damn.

no matter. cause i got my boys: lil' peanut, crippled hubby, and fat chihuahua. there is no better feeling than being needed. what they don't realize is that i really need them a whole heck of a lot more than i suspect they need me.:

2 trips to the hospital (1 dog, 1 hubby)

1 birthday party

1 client schmoozing happy hour

3 classes (1 me, 2 lil peanut)

17 work meetings

19 tantrums

1 painter estimate appt.

1 solo trip to Fairway w/ a 2 year old

Being a loved mommy and wife: priceless

in response to my buddy, xmastime...

...who responded to my "things that piss me off" post:


1. people who cut you off (in a car) and don't do the obligatory hand wave



XMASTIME: I don’t like the obligatory hand wave; it tells me the person was aware of what they’re doing. I like to think that to have the gall to cut me off, they must’ve been driving shitfaced. “BETTER fucking be drunk!” I’ll say as I see a beer can fly out the window.

To be clear, Xmastime's window.



2. Holding the door open for people who then briskly walk through without so much as a 'thank you.

XMASTIME: I don’t know this one. Nobody breezes into a building I’m holding the door open to without asking if I live in the building, who do I know in the building, do I have somewhere else to go, etc. You may know these people as “cops.”

I said "briskly". If they were "breezing" I would have had enough time to say, "hey bro, can you move it along?"



3. cops (unless they are stripping or singing)

XMASTIME: Those are the ones.

Sooo, you hold doors in buildings for breezy people who are naked and singing?



4. big toe hair (do i shave it?)

XMASTIME: Yes, a cameltoe joke writes itself here, but like I said the LF is a friend of mine and I respect her, so you won’t be getting the joke here. Though as usual you “Xmas Insiders” who are paid up through this month may email me for the riff I would’ve used (Platinum Members – your Fleshlights should’ve arrived in the mail by now, contact me if they haven’t.)

joke? camel toes are no joke. unless paired with ankle pegged acid washed jeans.



5. muffin tops

XMASTIME: If this is a tasty euphemism for “fat chicks”, I’m with you here. (also tasty: “fat fucking pigs.” Mmmmm.)

it's not.



6. weavers (people who walk painfully slow and weave in and out of your path as you attempt to pass...."hurry it up grandma!")

XMASTIME: ah, you Motherfuckers on the Sidewalk. It happens EVERY FUCKING TIME I LEAVE MY HOUSE. But especially if I’m running just a liiiiiiiittle late and kinda wanna book it to the train; this is when the “Total Fuckwad Bat-Signal” goes out and people swarm the sidewalk to slow me down. But it’s not the number of people, it’s how they somehow cleverly fill up the sidewalk JUST enough so I can’t pass them. They’ll spread out 3 or 4 wide, seemingly passable, slooooooowly dithering along as I’m bobbing and weaving behind them, looking for a hole. Four hipster motherfuckers looking around like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen bricks and windows, and I’ve gotta be fucking Gale Sayers to get by them. They’re really brilliant – I try to go left and they JUUUUUUUUUST ease over to the left so I can’t get by. At any step I’m perfectly, geometrically hemmed in by any combination of trees, garbage, cars and fuckwads. Unreal. The hand signals these people must have. “He’s going right!! Use the Happy Hour sign to cut him off!” Takes 20 minutes to walk two blocks, and by then I’ve actually walked about 18 miles, darting back and forth left and right trying to pass these motherfuckers. Unreal. Bravo, fuckwads.You super-fans (read: horny sluts!) may recall this from here.Ooooh stealing from myself; how Fogerty! So fucking sue me, I need the publicity.

enough said.


really.


7. the term 'bro'



XMASTIME:



"Cowboy up"



8. delivery folks who don't bother to buzz even though you are home and purposefully waiting for the gotdamn package.


XMASTIME: What are you doing at home during the day? Jesus Christ, do you white people fucking work?


Flummoxed. What exactly does the manny/blogger/video auteur do all day?



9. nyc bus driving

XMASTIME: Really? When do you find yourself driving a bus in NYC? Do you live in a Die Hard movie?


No, Speed. And Keanu loves my camel toe.



10. bikers who scream "share the road!" and then cut you off to run a red light (see item 1)


XMASTIME: I’m with you there, bikers are fucking worthless. “The devil’s oven mitts”, one may say.



One may



11. people who get in the elevator ahead of you and HAVE to push their floor button at the expense of anyone getting on in a timely manner, then standing directly in front of the button panel as you attempt to make your selection all the while acting disgruntled by your need to reach around them to select a floor. fuckers.


XMASTIME: I like these people; if it’s a woman, it gives me a chance to “accidentally” hit some chest fat while trying to punch my floor button. If it’s a man, I just close my eyes and hope it’s only fat.


or breezy naked cops.




12. cellulite


XMASTIME: Is it me, or is it ironic that the last 4 letters in “cellulite” are “lite”? Who comes up with these names? Cruel fucker! (tho prolly not a fat ass)


no. it's really not funny. it's bullshit is what it is.



13. bugaboos


XMASTIME: Those things do suck. Christ, look at it – where the fuck do you put your empties? No thanks.


or one hitters.



14. bugaboo moms

XMASTIME: Oh, I’ll still do them if(in) I(the) can.


You'd first have to remove the pole.




15. the fact that i can't afford a bugaboo


XMASTIME: So you’re unemployed, poor, and drive a bus around the city for fun.


No, I would just rather spend my money on me.



16. the olive garden commercial where the "grandson" treats his "grandfather" to a meal. "grandfather" doesn't look a day over 46.


XMASTIME: Maybe “grandma” was a cum-guzzling town slut of a whore and got knocked up at 15? I dunno why, but that just reminded me of the fact that the last date I ever went on with my first girlfriend was at the Olive Garden. Interesting.


Betty Vaughn still talks about it.




17. golf umbrellas used as everyday city umbrellas. not the problem. the fact they DON'T THINK TO LIFT IT ABOVE YOUR HEAD or move around you as they "share the sidewalk" is a problem. assholes.


XMASTIME: Sorry, but if you know the difference between a “golf umbrella” and an “everyday city umbrella,” you might be a bit of an asshole. :(18. not getting my US Weekly delivered in a timely manner (every Thursday mr/mrs postperson!!!)That, I'm on board with.


i meant In Touch.



19. street spitters


XMASTIME: Better than sidewalk nose-blowers. All trumped, of course, by chicks who take umbrage cause I’m looking at their tits to read their t-shirt that reads “CRAZY 4 (picture of a chicken)” Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me, Grandma!!


What?




20. Baked Lays....you get 3 chips to a bag. fraudulent.Ugh.


XMASTIME: These baked fucking things, they taste like wood. Without the flavor. The only thing worse than 3 baked chips is 4 - like another dick in your own bedroom, it’s always one too many.


Unless it's mine.

things that piss me off...this week

1. people who cut you off (in a car) and don't do the obligatory hand wave
2. holding the door open for people who then briskly walk through without so much as a 'thank you'
3. cops (unless they are stripping or singing)
4. big toe hair (do i shave it?)
5. muffin tops
6. weavers (people who walk painfully slow and weave in and out of your path as you attempt to pass...."hurry it up grandma!")
7. the term 'bro'
8. delivery folks who don't bother to buzz even though you are home and purposefully waiting for the gotdamn package
9. nyc bus driving
10. bikers who scream "share the road!" and then cut you off to run a red light (see item 1)
11. people who get in the elevator ahead of you and HAVE to push their floor button at the expense of anyone getting on in a timely manner, then standing directly in front of the button panel as you attempt to make your selection all the while acting disgruntled by your need to reach around them to select a floor. fuckers.
12. cellulite
13. bugaboos
14. bugaboo moms
15. the fact that i can't afford a bugaboo
16. the olive garden commercial where the "grandson" treats his "grandfather" to a meal. "grandfather" doesn't look a day over 46.
17. golf umbrellas used as everday city umbrellas. not the problem. the fact they DON'T THINK TO LIFT IT ABOVE YOUR HEAD or move around you as they "share the sidewalk" is a problem. assholes.
18. not getting my US Weekly delivered in a timely manner (every Thursday mr/mrs postperson!!!)
19. street spitters
20. Baked Lays....you get 3 chips to a bag. fraudulent.
21. my hubby's ass in the morning.

and evening. really dear, give it a rest.

end of the love affair

my new job has a kickball league. an enthusiastic, raring-to-go kickball league.


and a hiking club.


waiting for the impromtu hackey sack circle before i stage my walk out.

office viddles update

yesterday evening: cheese plate with assorted meats, water with sliced lemons. elegantly laid out in the kitchen. meant for subtle grazing. i scarfed. in process knocked over the nicely laid out carlsberg bottles ready for recycling pick-up.

lunch today: saw folks setting up a b-b-q buffet in the main loft space. assume it is for fancy pants client. nope. for us. reactions around me are blase(!). i almost pissed myself in excitement. mac & cheese, pulled pork, corn bread, chili, and all the fixin's. water with sliced cucumbers.

toonces.

1999?

party people. i apologize for my radio silence, but i have been busy....starting a new job is all!! aside from the irritable bowel i have managed to tame with copious amounts of imodium (for another post: "imodium: can an over-the-counter product ever be nominated for the Nobel?"), i have thus far settled in nicely. i have to admit however, i am waiting for reality to set in.....

the new agency that employs me is smallish - about 100. we are all happily communing in a large, light-filled open loft that overlooks the DUMBO bridge. there are three conference rooms with fresh tulips (really). the conference rooms are named: justin, britney, and paris (really). the accent color of the company logo/brand is hot pink (think t-mobile) with accents of dark gray (it works). the handbook states that dress is "comfortable and confident." that's me. upon my arrival my desk was adorned in treats of gourmet chocolate. maternity leave policy? don't have one yet....have not had a need thus far. the week b/w xmas and new years is always off (unless there is pending client work -- i mean, we do work). the kitchen is stocked every monday with bananas, trail mix, granola bars, and some big mounds of fresh green grapes. there is an espresso maker. i can, on occasion, hear the squeals of children playing outside in the dumbo park. little doggies follow their owners around the office so long as they stay out of every one's way and don't bark, piss, or crap. in early may there is a company-wide field trip to MOMA. there is an email address, "offtopic@xyzcompany.com where you can email such things like, "who's up for a beer at superfine -- be there at 6pm", or "check out this amazing new google app blah blah blah", or "soccer today! meet at the park after work". the best part of it all? we have work. and LOTS of it. folks here work their butts off, are completely grounded from what I can tell so far, and all of this oddly 1999 agency stuff seems effortless.

i would enjoy these things more if i weren't at the client or in meetings in one of our three pop star named conference rooms. but i gotta say....this place is earnest. i can guarantee i will not be hearing any "ad guy phrases"....but then I haven't worked closely yet with any of the Creatives...we may be in for a green M&Ms only in my dressing room treat......but somehow i think it will be mounds of grapes...and they are for everyone.

bulbous

for the first time in my life, i have started to really consider the possibility of cosmetic surgery. maybe it's the thirty something "why when i finish smiling is there a circle around my mouth?" lament. i have always preached my adamant belief in the post child bearing tummy tuck and boob lift. i look forward to the day when i can simply eat pancakes and muffin tops rather than wear them. i am saving up for that day.

it's the less obvious things that are surprisingly bothersome (here is where i should mention that i am incredibly self critical...nay, vain...though oddly vain about some things and not others like toe nails, upper lip, or roots.....but, i digress).  i am obsessed with the hollows of my eyes and the wrinkles forming in b/w them. 

[readers: one silver lining > remind me to tell you the story of my perfect internal viscera]

in fact, there was a spell where i was convinced i had a double chin (my bro happily concurred with my concern at the time, so naturally i blame him for all of my insecurities... and my penchant for eating mass amounts of strawberry pop tarts under the cloak of darkness. but whatevs). 

 

not too long ago, my vanity got some much needed gratification when i got a bit of a pay raise. money i had set aside for... oh, i don't know... my lil peanut's education, the mortgage, or savings had somehow become re-branded as my "self preservation fund". i think i may have  explained my spending rationale to my hubby by stating something along the lines of "sheeeet, i earned that money. it's miiiiine. i should use it any way i damn well puhlease" followed by 2 finger snaps delivered in a circular fashion. so, with his roll of the eyes, i happily found myself consulting with a top surgeon a couple weeks ago about restylane (a filler) to fill out my eyes and refresh the skin (zip it those who know me).

at the start of the consultation, the oddly long island-esque top doc asked me a slew o' questions about my self perception. i kept it light and cracked a couple jokes. chirp, chirp. "nothing major, just a 'refreshment'." blah, blah, blah. could i BE more uncomfortable? just when i thought it could not get any worse, he preps me for his assessment of my features. he agrees (cha ching) with my desire to "refresh" my face with maybe some injections around the eyes...yadda yadda. however, he has some additional thoughts. without a seconds hesitation, he says, "well clearly your nose does not fit your face." my perfect jaw ( he did give me that at least) drops. 

he continues, "it has a bulbaceous quality that diminishes your other features." and yes "bulbaceous" is a word, cause i looked up immediately following the comfort eating binge post office visit. he doesn't even break a smile. all business. he's right mind you, but the nose was like 9 items down on the list of concerns (the fact that i have a penis even beat it out, being #5 on the list). 

 the rainmaker that he is, however, had no qualms calling it out. so naturally he lured my weak, insecure self into a software consultation. essentially, he takes pics and shows you a surgery-simulated before and after screen shot using a fancy pants software program. 

[pause]

next pay raise i will have a new nose. 

....and possibly be facing single motherhood. [sigh]

stay tuned about the injections. might divert my funds to operation: "bulbaceous removal". ok, now back to watching discovery health: "surgery before and after"....and eating a strawberry pop tart.