All names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.
So, I was talking with my friend Fred the other day about my job. We hadn’t seen each other in about a year, so we were catching up. In the middle of one of my “corporate culture rants” he stopped me to ask,
“Hey, I know someone who works at your office. Do you work with a guy named Hans?”
“Oh yeah, I know him! He always looks at my boobs when we are in the elevator together. I think he must really like boobs as he can’t seem to lift his eyes above my collar! The very first time I met him, I think he thought I was someone else and the whole time he was talking to me, calling me the wrong name, he was looking me up and down. I mean, he seems really nice and all, he just seems to like to check out the ladies, you know what I mean?”
“Uh, yeah…him and his wife are good friends of ours. They go to our church.” He didn’t look amused.
“Oh.”
I don’t often get into situations like this, but when I stick my foot into my mouth, I choke on it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
A Wiggly Saturday!
There weren’t a whole lot of options for family fun activities in Greensboro this weekend, excluding the two events at the Coliseum on Saturday afternoon. There was the Greensboro Gun and Knife show and The Wiggles. We chose to go see The Wiggles.
For those of you out there who have not procreated in the last 5 -7 years, The Wiggles are a “band” of four guys from Australia who dance and sing and play instruments. They have a couple of Friends who join them in the show, Captain Feathersword, who wields a, well you guessed it, a tickly pink and purple feather sword, there is Dorothy the Dinosaur, a buck toothed green with yellow spots dinosaur that loves red roses, Henry the Octopus, and Wags the Dog.
When Dan mentioned that The Wiggles were coming to Greensboro, I didn’t really think that we would actually buy tickets. I was surprised when he asked me which show we should attend. My first thought was, “what kind of parents takes their kids to this kind of thing. Do I want to be around those kinds of people?” My second thought was, “What the hell, it might actually be fun.” Dan purchased the tickets, $98 dollars?!, and we started getting the kids excited for the “big surprise!”
When we got the coliseum an hour before the show, it was pretty easy to figure out which way to go. Follow the stream of parents with 2-5 years olds. I did have to stop at a counter and ask for directions to the Will Call counter. It was then that I noticed the man walking towards me with three, could they be muskets? in his arms. It was also at that moment when I noticed the sign, “Do not keep live ammo or clips in guns.” Well that’s a relief. I hadn’t know there was a gun and knife show going on at the Coliseum until that moment and as we walked by the guarded open door, I was strangely drawn to the room. But that is a story for another time. Back to The Wiggles!
We found our seats and made ourselves sick on popcorn and fake nachos (I love that fake cheese wiz stuff!) until the show started. I had joked with Dan about them having an opening act, speculating what other kids band would open for this show. But as the lights began to dim, two clowns, dressed in the traditional French clown outfits, white hat with three black poms, white long tunic and white tights, came out to greet the crowd. They had those athletics whistles and they got us to clap and cheer to get ready for the main event. At the start of the clown show I turned to look at Bronwen to see if she was having fun. She looked stricken, and as I started to talk to her about the clowns she began to cry and grabbed me around the neck and would not look up at the stage until the ballerinas come on. She was fine after that. See, clowns are scary!
The show was great. They sang some of their hot hits. Maybe you’ve heard some; Hot Potato, Isty Bitsy Spider, and Twinkle Little Star. Fruit Salad is my personal favorite which they performed with giant pieces of blow up fruit that they tossed around the stage until the song was over.
Truthfully, I think we had more fun than the kids. There is something to be said about being allowed to act silly, clap, cheer, laugh and sing along with the excuse that it is for your kid, but knowing deep down that you are actually having a great time. I experienced a brief moment a self consciousness when the show first started as I clapped and cheered maybe a little too loudly. I looked around at all of the parents around us. They were having the same fun, experiencing the joy through and with their children. It was great.
For those of you out there who have not procreated in the last 5 -7 years, The Wiggles are a “band” of four guys from Australia who dance and sing and play instruments. They have a couple of Friends who join them in the show, Captain Feathersword, who wields a, well you guessed it, a tickly pink and purple feather sword, there is Dorothy the Dinosaur, a buck toothed green with yellow spots dinosaur that loves red roses, Henry the Octopus, and Wags the Dog.
When Dan mentioned that The Wiggles were coming to Greensboro, I didn’t really think that we would actually buy tickets. I was surprised when he asked me which show we should attend. My first thought was, “what kind of parents takes their kids to this kind of thing. Do I want to be around those kinds of people?” My second thought was, “What the hell, it might actually be fun.” Dan purchased the tickets, $98 dollars?!, and we started getting the kids excited for the “big surprise!”
When we got the coliseum an hour before the show, it was pretty easy to figure out which way to go. Follow the stream of parents with 2-5 years olds. I did have to stop at a counter and ask for directions to the Will Call counter. It was then that I noticed the man walking towards me with three, could they be muskets? in his arms. It was also at that moment when I noticed the sign, “Do not keep live ammo or clips in guns.” Well that’s a relief. I hadn’t know there was a gun and knife show going on at the Coliseum until that moment and as we walked by the guarded open door, I was strangely drawn to the room. But that is a story for another time. Back to The Wiggles!
We found our seats and made ourselves sick on popcorn and fake nachos (I love that fake cheese wiz stuff!) until the show started. I had joked with Dan about them having an opening act, speculating what other kids band would open for this show. But as the lights began to dim, two clowns, dressed in the traditional French clown outfits, white hat with three black poms, white long tunic and white tights, came out to greet the crowd. They had those athletics whistles and they got us to clap and cheer to get ready for the main event. At the start of the clown show I turned to look at Bronwen to see if she was having fun. She looked stricken, and as I started to talk to her about the clowns she began to cry and grabbed me around the neck and would not look up at the stage until the ballerinas come on. She was fine after that. See, clowns are scary!
The show was great. They sang some of their hot hits. Maybe you’ve heard some; Hot Potato, Isty Bitsy Spider, and Twinkle Little Star. Fruit Salad is my personal favorite which they performed with giant pieces of blow up fruit that they tossed around the stage until the song was over.
Truthfully, I think we had more fun than the kids. There is something to be said about being allowed to act silly, clap, cheer, laugh and sing along with the excuse that it is for your kid, but knowing deep down that you are actually having a great time. I experienced a brief moment a self consciousness when the show first started as I clapped and cheered maybe a little too loudly. I looked around at all of the parents around us. They were having the same fun, experiencing the joy through and with their children. It was great.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Lost!
I have lost the stone in my engagement ring just now. It was actually kind of funny how it happened. I was trying to clean it with a tissue and it popped right out and went into my bra. I fished it out and then it slipped from my fingers and fell under my desk. At that point I wasn’t really stressed out. I mean, it is pretty easy to get the stone back into the fitting and I would be able to clean it even better with the stone out.
I crouched down to peer under the desk and I didn’t see anything. I started to feel around for the stone. It is so little and the carpet is so disgusting. I found a half eaten peanut M&M and some old popcorn kernels. I also found a blueberry that I must have dropped this morning, and a small box of random office stuff.
So now I am feeling a little stressed. Actually, I kind of want to cry. I am going to grab my lamp and plug it in under the desk and give it another look. Hopefully, whether I find it or not, this icky panicked feeling in my gut will go away.
I crouched down to peer under the desk and I didn’t see anything. I started to feel around for the stone. It is so little and the carpet is so disgusting. I found a half eaten peanut M&M and some old popcorn kernels. I also found a blueberry that I must have dropped this morning, and a small box of random office stuff.
So now I am feeling a little stressed. Actually, I kind of want to cry. I am going to grab my lamp and plug it in under the desk and give it another look. Hopefully, whether I find it or not, this icky panicked feeling in my gut will go away.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Prison Motel
I think I am spoiled; spoiled in the sense that I like new, clean and modern hotels; spoiled in the sense that I expect a certain level of comfort, cleanliness and service when I stay in a hotel; so spoiled, in fact, that I have become a hotel snob. I can’t help it! I travel for work and when you travel for a larger corporation, you get to stay in nice hotels; hotels that might even have a concierge, a gym and a pool. Sometimes, I even get to stay in a place with a bar and restaurant, a home away from home, where someone else makes my bed everyday and replaces the towels and cleans up my mess.
Here is the problem with becoming a hotel snob. It means that Motels are officially on the “Will Not Stay Here” list. Motels (with a capital M) do not meet the standards to which I have become accustomed, which might be sad, except for the fact that Motels are usually pretty icky.
Two weekends ago, Dan, Bronwen and I made the 11 hour trek to Kerhonkson, NY for my friend Shannon’s nuptials. On her wedding website there was a list of local Motels, along with more expensive bed and breakfasts, spas, and resorts from which to choose. Wanting to keep the costs low, and knowing that it would only be for one night, I opted for the cheapest and easiest Motel, the Colonial Motel.
The there are only two things good about the Colonial Motel. One, it is cheap, and two, it is only half a mile from where the wedding was taking place. Let me describe the place. Clustered around a black top parking lot is four small poorly maintained buildings. There is a small house, labeled “Office” at the entrance to the parking lot where I checked in, got the key and was sent across the parking lot, up the rickety stairs to the second floor. There couldn’t have been more than 20 rooms in the whole place. Our room was #86.
I was skeptical before I ever even muscled open the door and peer through the gloom into the filthy room. Flies buzzed around the place like the buildings themselves were starting to rot in the hot sun.
I walked slowly in the room, and stood waiting for my eyes to adjust. In the dim light the room began to take shape. The filthy rug, stained black in places was not to be trusted, and I made a mental note to make sure that Bronwen kept her shoes on at all times. A peek into the bathroom revealed a clean but old toilet, sink and shower. The closets were huge, without doors, with burn holes in the floors, no hangers and coated on the inside with peeling paint/paper/paneling. The windows were not secure, the bedspreads were gross, the paint was peeled in some places scraped in others, the TV was hilariously small (we had HBO) and propped precariously on a stand in the corner, and some of the bare bulb lights didn’t work. Bronwen explored the drawer in the bedside table and found a huge stack of used scratch and win lottery tickets, an old package of wafer cookies and a joint stashed in the bible. Need I say more?
The next day, after attempting to shower under the trickle of cold water coming from the thoroughly limed-clogged shower head, we met up with the owners of the horse farm where the wedding was going to take place later in the afternoon. Cody asked us where we were staying and laughed when we replied the Colonial Motel.
“Oh, you’re staying at the prison the motel,” she informed us. “That’s where everyone stays when they come to visit their relatives in the prison down the road. They take the “prison bus” from Port Authority and end up there.”
Truthfully, the fact that it was called the prison motel almost made the whole experience a little better; at least we a got a good story out of it. And we got to watch cable TV.
Here is the problem with becoming a hotel snob. It means that Motels are officially on the “Will Not Stay Here” list. Motels (with a capital M) do not meet the standards to which I have become accustomed, which might be sad, except for the fact that Motels are usually pretty icky.
Two weekends ago, Dan, Bronwen and I made the 11 hour trek to Kerhonkson, NY for my friend Shannon’s nuptials. On her wedding website there was a list of local Motels, along with more expensive bed and breakfasts, spas, and resorts from which to choose. Wanting to keep the costs low, and knowing that it would only be for one night, I opted for the cheapest and easiest Motel, the Colonial Motel.
The there are only two things good about the Colonial Motel. One, it is cheap, and two, it is only half a mile from where the wedding was taking place. Let me describe the place. Clustered around a black top parking lot is four small poorly maintained buildings. There is a small house, labeled “Office” at the entrance to the parking lot where I checked in, got the key and was sent across the parking lot, up the rickety stairs to the second floor. There couldn’t have been more than 20 rooms in the whole place. Our room was #86.
I was skeptical before I ever even muscled open the door and peer through the gloom into the filthy room. Flies buzzed around the place like the buildings themselves were starting to rot in the hot sun.
I walked slowly in the room, and stood waiting for my eyes to adjust. In the dim light the room began to take shape. The filthy rug, stained black in places was not to be trusted, and I made a mental note to make sure that Bronwen kept her shoes on at all times. A peek into the bathroom revealed a clean but old toilet, sink and shower. The closets were huge, without doors, with burn holes in the floors, no hangers and coated on the inside with peeling paint/paper/paneling. The windows were not secure, the bedspreads were gross, the paint was peeled in some places scraped in others, the TV was hilariously small (we had HBO) and propped precariously on a stand in the corner, and some of the bare bulb lights didn’t work. Bronwen explored the drawer in the bedside table and found a huge stack of used scratch and win lottery tickets, an old package of wafer cookies and a joint stashed in the bible. Need I say more?
The next day, after attempting to shower under the trickle of cold water coming from the thoroughly limed-clogged shower head, we met up with the owners of the horse farm where the wedding was going to take place later in the afternoon. Cody asked us where we were staying and laughed when we replied the Colonial Motel.
“Oh, you’re staying at the prison the motel,” she informed us. “That’s where everyone stays when they come to visit their relatives in the prison down the road. They take the “prison bus” from Port Authority and end up there.”
Truthfully, the fact that it was called the prison motel almost made the whole experience a little better; at least we a got a good story out of it. And we got to watch cable TV.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Possum vs Mountain Lion
Having a possum in my kitchen was pretty scary, but waking to a mountain lion in the bedroom takes fear to a whole other level. Check this out.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Happy Birthday Little B
Bronwen’s Puppy Party this past Saturday was a complete success, especially if you judge a successful party based on total number of presents, total number of attendees and total number of cocktail wieners consumed. Here is a grand total
Presents: 31
Attendees (including puppies): 21
Cocktail wieners: 189
Bronwen had a wonderful time. Since it was a puppy party, she received lots of puppy presents; Pound Puppies, a Webkins poodle, hugging puppies, Clifford books and movies, puppy books, etc. It was amazing. She also had puppy balloons and I made her a dog bone cake. We ate cocktail wieners, mini corn dogs and drank sangria. It was great.
At the end of the evening, right before she was supposed to take her bath, I was holding her on my hip in the kitchen and we were chatting with friends. She was getting really fussy and I had the impression that she wasn’t feeling very good. I was just about to walk her into the bathroom when she opened her mouth and puked all over my shirt and the floor. I guess you know you’ve had a good time at a party when you leave it puking.
Today is Bronwen’s actual birthday. I personally think I should be getting some gifts as it was at 2:48pm this time two years ago that I pushed her out, and then almost died! She is pretty damn perfect though, healthy, smart and cheeky, she is the best present I have ever gotten.
Happy Birthday Bronwen. We love you!
Presents: 31
Attendees (including puppies): 21
Cocktail wieners: 189
Bronwen had a wonderful time. Since it was a puppy party, she received lots of puppy presents; Pound Puppies, a Webkins poodle, hugging puppies, Clifford books and movies, puppy books, etc. It was amazing. She also had puppy balloons and I made her a dog bone cake. We ate cocktail wieners, mini corn dogs and drank sangria. It was great.
At the end of the evening, right before she was supposed to take her bath, I was holding her on my hip in the kitchen and we were chatting with friends. She was getting really fussy and I had the impression that she wasn’t feeling very good. I was just about to walk her into the bathroom when she opened her mouth and puked all over my shirt and the floor. I guess you know you’ve had a good time at a party when you leave it puking.
Today is Bronwen’s actual birthday. I personally think I should be getting some gifts as it was at 2:48pm this time two years ago that I pushed her out, and then almost died! She is pretty damn perfect though, healthy, smart and cheeky, she is the best present I have ever gotten.
Happy Birthday Bronwen. We love you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
