Archive for May, 2002
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Heavens to Betsy, I had 75 visits yesterday, and 100 page views. You like me! You really like me! I probably won’t update much tomorrow since a friend’s coming over for a playdate, so I’m getting it all out of my system today. And how. This is what, 8 posts in 24 hours?
Here’s a terrible joke:
Cinderella desperately wanted to go to the grand ball at the castle. She asked her fairy godmother, “However shall I go to the ball wearing rags and on shank’s mare?”
Her fairy godmother told her “Never fear, I know just the thing!” and poof, she waved her magic wand and Cinderella had a stunning ballgown on. She waved her magic wand again and poof, there was a fine coach and 6 white horses to pull it.
Fairy Godmother said to Cinderella, “Now dear, you must make sure to get back home before midnight, because if you don’t, you will turn into a pumpkin!”, and Cinderella nodded in acquiescence.
At the ball, Cinderella was by far the most beautiful maiden there and the Prince was quite taken with her, dancing every dance with her. Suddenly Cinderella exclaimed, “Oh, no! What time is it?” as she had quite lost track.
“Ten till midnight,” said the Prince.
“I have to go! I have to leave!” said Cinderella, near tears.
“But wait – I didn’t even catch your name,” replied the Prince.
“My name’s Cinderella, what’s yours?” asked Cinderella.
“Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater,” said the Prince.
“Oh, I think I can stay a little bit longer.”
If I had a marketing department, I’d bitch about it. But I don’t. The most marketing we do is a yellow pages ad. Ha!
Here’s a question for those of you with children: do you tend to refer to your husband as “Daddy” – even in private thoughts? As in, “We’re out of condoms, Daddy will need to get some more next time he’s at the store”. Is this an isolated thing that I should talk to a shrink about?
My dad, speaking of Daddy, was the master of jerry-rigging things. He would go for function (sometimes barely functional) over form every time. As an example, he poured cement for some steps that led to our house, only he didn’t brace the side, so the steps were slanted to the right and bowed out on the side. But they worked.
You may wonder how I have all this time to dig up links. Simple. While nursing I browse my favorite weird link sites, then compile them all. Since the boob leech nurses about every 2-3 hours, I have lots of time to look. More information than I’m sure anyone needed to know, but I did want to point out that I don’t live to dig up blog links, there is a madness to my method. Or something.
Which brings me to another point. Wouldn’t it make more sense, and more of an impact, if we said “You can’t eat your cake and have it too”? “Having your cake and eating it too” is a no-brainer. It’s very rare that you eat a cake you don’t have.
In closing, I would like to propose the introduction of the word “amn’t”. Viz:
“He’s ugly.” “No he isn’t.”
“I’m ugly.” “No you aren’t.”
“You’re ugly.” “No I amn’t.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore so I went to the urgent care clinic to have a doctor look at it. He said it’s some sort of bug bite or sting (well duh) and it might be infected. I’m not sure about that since it gets a whole hell of a lot better when I take a Benadryl and then swells way up and gets red and insanely itchy when the drugs wear off. Anyway, I will take antibiotics and hope it goes away very very soon.
It itches! IT ITCHES! IIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTCHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!
Sorry, the Benadryl wore off. My arm is totally swollen and itchy. Gotta take more. More more more. Every time I scratch it it gets bigger. Bigger bigger bigger. If it were going to kill me, it would have by now, wouldn’t it?
I think it’s affecting my thought processes.
Last night I outlined the borders of the redness from this weird bite thing I have with a lip liner. When I woke up this morning the red had crept about 1/8″ outside the line. Still itchier than hell. I took a Benadryl to see if it would help. Hub found a tiny wasp-like creature flying around the kitchen today. Wonder if that’s what got me?
Why is our first reaction so often “NO!” when someone offers to help? Is it a pride thing, or stubbornness? It frustrates hub to no end when he offers to do something for me and I tell him no even when it’s obvious that I can’t do it myself. I wonder if it’s some sort of Superwoman complex, where we have to present the image, at least to ourselves, that we can do it all. I think part of growing up is knowing when to ask for help.