Archive | October, 2011

Bobism #24

18 Oct

So, yeah, I have jury duty for a week, and as if I wasn’t behind in my posts enough, I’ll surely be behind after this week.  But this little gem was worth stealing away a moment on the ol’ QWERTY.  After being told by several people that I should have tried to ‘get out’ of jury duty, and feeling overwhelmed by the amount of jockeying that had to be done for daycare, etc. I confide in my sage husband:

Me: “Maybe I just should have lied and said I’m a neurosurgeon or that I had a brother who was a career criminal or something.”

Bob: “No babe, you were honest. Most other people would have irked their duties as a citizen but you are doing yours instead of irking it.”

Me: “I think you mean ‘shirk.'”

Bob: “No, its skirt, like skirt the issue.”

Me: “But you said irk, and I think you meant shirk.  Shirking is not skirting, but irking is not shirking.”

Bob: “Shirk isn’t a word.  Bring me proof.”

Positive Living

14 Oct

Well, well, well, lookie here. I’ve only been blogging for a few weeks and I already have a guest post on another blog 😉

Stephanie at CityCharmer sent an email out to the SE Baltimore List Serv a few weeks ago, asking for some ideas on positive living–things that we do for our friends and family to show that we care.  If you don’t know about the List Serv, you either don’t have kids or don’t live in Baltimore City, or neither.  But its a Yahoo Group created for families in my hood.

I had a good story of positive living to share with Stephanie (Wipe that shocked look off your face, I don’t complain THAT much!) So, I sent  her this story:

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine had ordered a bunch of pink flamingos (you know the kind you put in the yard?  Really long story).  Anyway, the company that sent the flamingos also sent a couple of bags of fluffy pink balls called Flamingo Poop.   I saw one of these bags and thought it was so cute.  Very whimsical and child-like.

Anyway, my friend had no use for them.  Once I put a bunch around her office as a joke, but she didn’t find it very funny.  She is quite anal-retentive and did not like little pink fluffy balls every where!  I thought it was a hoot.
So, I pocketed a few and took them home.  I figured if I got a kick out of watching my friend find these little balls, I thought my husband would appreciate it too.  So, I started hiding them in places where I knew he’d find them.  In the refrigerator, under the remote, in his luggage (he travels often), in his shoes, in his sock drawer, etc.  So he started reciprocating.  It was so nice to wake up in the morning on a day that he’d left for a two day trip to find a little reminder in the form of a tiny pink fuzzy ball in my morning tea cup or sandwiched in between my closed laptop.

Pink Pooooopppp!!!!

This practice definitely petered out somewhat when we had dear Beatrice.   Partially because we lost a few poops along the way.  But also because life is just hectic with a baby.  I tried hiding a few poops in her baby swing and they stayed there for weeks.  Now that she’s one, I’m trying to resurrect the poop-hiding.  Here is a picture of one in our fridge.  My husband will find it tonight when he reaches for his beer.

I’m glad she inspired the idea for me to tell the story because otherwise I may not have thought to write about it.

Top Ten things said during DC getaway weekend

10 Oct

I worked at The Baltimore Sun from 1999-2008. While I don’t miss (most of) the advertising world and constant pressure from sales managers, I do miss my friends there very much.

The people were, honestly, what kept me there for so long. On at least two occasions during my tenure, I very furiously sent out resumes and seriously interviewed elsewhere. It wasn’t a bad place to work (in hindsight, not bad at all), but as with any job, after a while you get stuck. I eventually did leave–to go back to school to get my MBA.

Anyway, during my time there, my girls (let’s call them SBs) and I got to attend many Holiday parties, advertising awards dinners and the like. Anytime there was alcohol (two drink tickets per person; more if you were lucky enough to find a pregnant person or Southern Baptist), things got silly, to say the least. Everything uttered was hilarious, of course, and somehow memorable. To that end, we started a tradition called “The top 10 things said/ heard at… XYZ event.”  They were as much “Top 10” as David Letterman’s are ranked, but calling them top anything just added to the humor, because it was pretty much just childish toilet humor.  Usually these quotes weren’t even funny to the outside world, but sometimes if you knew us well enough, you could just let your imagination run wild.

One particularly randy evening we all started leaving messages for each other on our, and our boss’s, voicemails, to hear the next morning. I also recall having my photo taken while laying on the hood of my car, Whitesnake style.  Except it was December.  LOL.

So, in that tradition, I present you with the Top 10 things Said during my recent DC weekend Getaway.  Bob and I went away, sans baby, for a couple of days to celebrate our anniversary. We stayed at the Ritz Carlton and got a couples massage.   Of course, most of these quotes were uttered by Bob (so this does fall into the Bobism category too I suppose), but I’ll let you decide.  Oh, and #9 is in reference to the BATH MENU (yes, you read that correctly… for $50 they will send a man in a tuxedo to your room to draw you a bath and throw some aromatic salts in it for you).

10.  Do I have to wear underpants to get a massage?

9. I’d like the Stars Spangled Bath please.

8. When you fart at the Ritz Carlton, it smells like roses anyway.

7. Was it the boner-free kind?

6. Would you like to try my spicy balls?

5. Its only 7:00, we can’t go home until the kids are in bed.

4. My friend is a gamecock.

3. Is that lotion on your hands?

2. No, its bacon grease.

1. Dry my wet buns please.

You are Chopped Liver Now, Didn’t You Know?

5 Oct

One of many, many, many things that you are not told/ prepared for when you have a child is that you are not the favorite anymore. To anyone. LOL.  Not only are you not the favorite, you pretty much don’t matter. 

I am an only child. I am the first grandchild on my mother’s side. I am the only granddaughter on my father’s side. My family had nicknames for me like “loveliness.”

So, yeah, ok, I’m a little spoiled. I won’t deny it. But the CHANGE in people’s behaviors is just totally amusing.  Good thing I have a thick skin!

Take my Grandmother, Mom Mom. She is clasically known for her two end tables that feature her three grandchildren during various stages of cuteness and awkwardness. I actually had my own table, because my other two cousins are brother and sister. So they had to share. That’s what siblings do (I’m told?)

Anyway, the last time I was at Mom Mom’s house, I was shocked to look at my table and see, guess who?  Not me! Dearest Beatrice. And guess where my pictures were? Lined up behind the lampshade on the stairs! Not even hung… just teetering on the edge of the stairs, leaning against the railing. The child is only 13 months old… there aren’t that many photos of her around, how can she usurp me so quickly?  Oh, and I’m told she needs even more recent ones of Bea.

“Mom Mom, the most recent picture of me here is more than 14 years old!”  Well, I look almost the same, she says.  Bea changes so fast, you see.

Mom Mom is classic for things like “Oh watch the baby’s head, Carrie, don’t let it flop around,” “Make sure my baby is covered up, now, we don’t want her catching cold.” You know. Like I’m a dummy.

My mother doesn’t say stuff like that to me, but let’s just say Beatrice knows what side her bread is buttered on:

“Oh Bea didn’t want to go to sleep so I got her up and gave her a drink.”
“My baby is crying….” (Sad face)
“I gave her french fries for dinner.”

And you KNOW Bea knows my mother will give her whatever she wants. My daughter reaches for no one. She does not cry when I leave for work. She is fiercely independent and too busy with whatever she’s doing to be bothered to stop for a hug. But when she sees my mom, arms outstretch like “Please save me from these mean people that let me cry it out in my crib!”

Last night, we had dinner at my moms, and Mom Mom was there. I was moving Bea’s highchair to the table and accidentally bumped into the recliner Mom Mom was sitting in. She jumped.

“Oops, sorry Mom Mom.”
Gasping, “Oh no, I thought the baby hit her head!’
“No, it was just me.”
“Oh, ok.” Sits back down, visibly relieved.

Umm.. I think I sort of stubbed my toe a little? Anyone? Hello?

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