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Month: January 2005

I’m hanging with the DotMommers

I’m hanging with the DotMommers

I am writing over at DotMoms this morning.  Go check it out and let me know what you think.  Don’t worry, I will be back to my ‘online shrine to parental self-absorption’ later today to document every moment of my hand-wringing and narcassism.*

*Gotta love it when the New York Times so freely hands you lines dripping with sarcasm. 

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Hey baby, wanna *bleep*

Hey baby, wanna *bleep*

When the geek movement first arrived in my life, I did try to resist it.  When my husband Clint had a BBS before we got married, I still vowed to love him in spite of the geek factor being blown off the scale.

I resisted becoming a geek.

Oh sure, I logged on, got a great user name and chatted with the other users, but I was NOT a geek.  Honest.  And yes, I did go with him to the sysop get togethers.  (But man, those geeks can drink!)

Yet, I resisited becoming a geek.

After Zarek was born in 1995 I became a full fledged insomniac.  Clint’s answer?  Show me the internet.  Teach me how to navigate the World Wide Web.  Our conversations went something like this:

Me:  What do you mean I can find a website on anything I want?”

Clint:  “Just type anything you want to know in that box and it will take you to that website.”

Me:  *typing* ‘anything I want to know’ *SMACK to the forehead* “Ohhh, you mean type the TOPIC of what I want to know?? Like if I type ‘coffee’ I can read all about the different brews?”

Not only did I find coffee related sites, I found PARENTING sites! And JOURNALS! And CHAT sites!  (I could suddenly chat with anyone, anytime!) I really did have something new to do with those middle of the night sleepless hours.  I was going to like this new Internet thing.  (Thanks so much, Al Gore.  I heart the Internet!)

Yet, I resisted becoming a geek.

Years passed.  I set up a few different websites of my own.  I discovered IRC and went to real live get- togethers with these people that I met in *gasp* a chat room.  I joined an awesome online Moms groups when Gabriella was a newborn.  Even starting my very own blog in 2003 didn’t bring me to the realm of full fledged geek.  It didn’t matter that I wrote on the internet. Or that I actually learned HTML.  Even the fact that I knew what people were talking about when they spoke geek.  I wasn’t there yet.

That moment arrived a week or so ago.  It was in that moment that I realized not only had I arrived in the World of Geek, I just may have to try to be their queen.

Clint was in the family room with his laptop doing something geeky online.  I was in the bedroom getting ready to call it a night when I had a moment of inspiration.  I grabbed my laptop and (giggling like I am being a bad girl) sent him a very suggestive instant message asking him to meet me in the bedroom.

I struck a pose and waited…

…and waited

…and waited.

Perhaps my IM was too suggestive and not blunt enough. Fine.  I can do blunt.  So, I decide to send him a steamy IM that was in no way shape or form questionable about what I was talking about.  Dirty words and all.

I struck a pose and waited…

…and waited

…and waited.


My first thought is, ‘Oh my god!  What if I IM’ed that to a friend or worse my Dad?!’ In a panic I double checked and was relived to see that I had not propositioned either.

Then I got pissed.  What the hell is wrong with me that my own husband isn’t responding to a very blatant invitation?  It then dawned on me that maybe it wasn’t his fault.

I grabbed a robe, stormed into the family room hand on my hips and demanded, “Do you or do you not have porn blocking on your instant messenger?”

Stammering, he replied that he did and then proceeded to try to figure out why he was in trouble for NOT having porn on his laptop. 

“Nevermind,” I sighed turning on my heal and leaving with a pout. 

Back in the bedroom, I gave it one more shot.  This time it worked.

Can I just share something with you about propositioning someone through IM, though?  It really does lose something when all of the “dirty” words are spelled with an asterick smack in the mid*dle of them.

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Grow your own babies! Just add sperm!*

Grow your own babies! Just add sperm!*

When you are out of work for over 2 1/2 years, you learn creative ways to “rob Peter to pay Paul” and get away with it.  (Sometimes you even pickpocket John and Matthew, but that is another lesson all together.) However, the moment you get a job everyone suddenly wants their money back.  Peter and Paul have talked and are pissed.  They want everything you owe then RIGHT NOW.  Sometimes it feels worse now than when we knew we had nothing.  (I said sometimes, not always.) So, things are financially tight. 

Being a stay at home mom there comes a certain amount of gi-normous guilt that comes with not contributing and income when you so desperately need one.  Being the supportive wife and team player, I looked into options that will contribute to the family income.

First I looked into donating my own blood and plasma.  After about 2 seconds of research I discovered that they use NEEDLES in this process.  NEEDLES.  I don’t think so.  I love having food in the table, but needles in the arm?  Not so much.

Then I looked into being a ho, but my my wardrobe is all wrong for that.  Who can afford new ho clothes when the whole point is making money?  Logistics, people.

While contemplating all of this a very good friend of mine told me about egg donation.  We started to talk about it and I thought it might be worth looking into.  I can do eggs.  Hell, I am generous.  I’ll even go to Costco and get the industrial size, Grade A Farm Fresh eggs.  I would spare no expense. 

Of course, after a few phone calls I realized they totally meant a different kind of eggs altogether.  Damn the luck.  Yet, still.  I wanted more information. I’ve been through the loss of a baby and the doctors saying I won’t have a baby.  I know the pain.  Been there.  I wanted to find out more.  The idea of helping an infertile AND helping my family out as well.  Double bonus.  So I asked more questions.  (Mistake….oh big mistake.)

Apparently, I am too OLD.  TOO OLD.  Not by a bit.  Not “oh-oh you just missed our cut off age”, but by YEARS.

Too Old.

Apparently, my eggs are more of the powdered egg variety.

Yes, Internet, I have powdered eggs.  And they don’t want them.

You know me, though.  I refuse to be a quitter.  I mean, I could actually be onto something.  I can be the Tang of the Infertility World.  I can just see the adds now.  My very own promotional in the personals: 

“Powdered Eggs:  Just Add Sperm”


“Powdered Eggs:  The Official Eggs of NASA Astronauts”


“Powdered Eggs:  The Tang of Infertility”

I just may have to market my OLD powdered, shriveled eggs.  Hell, if people bought into the idea of dehydrated foods and powdered orange juice, why wouldn’t they embrace the concept of powdered eggs?  Eaiser to transport.  Easier to store.  Easier to buy a dime bag.  Oh yes, I am so onto something.

You heard it here first, my friends.

Get in line.  This is going to be big!

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I need a real fix. Not this pseudofix they call the library!

I need a real fix. Not this pseudofix they call the library!

Oh for the love of all that is internet addiction, I am in hell!  My internet is down.  Dead.  NOT WORKING!  I feel so lost and abandonned.  I am logged in from the library.  The LIBRARY!  It’s like eating dinner at a soup kitchen.  There is nothing wrong with soup kitchens and they serve a great purpose, but you’d really rather be at home in your pajamas eating your own homemade highspeed on your laptop with your own bookmarks and worn off letters on your keyboard soup.  I’m just saying.  It feels so dirty. 

However, the tech–sadly, not my Sergei— will be out to the house “as soon as Friday!” Excuse me?  AS SOON as Friday?  That’s like telling a junkie to hang on a week and his dealer will get him a fix by FRIDAY.  What the hell kind of talk is that?  I certainly don’t think it is fair or right or even legal for that matter.  I am sure it insults some gods somewhere that I truly hope strike down and spite my evil internet provider. 

So I call up everyday.

Me: “Yeah, hi.  It’s me.  So…well, do you have a dealer tech who can come over today.  I mean, I am really jonesin’ here man.  I swear I heard a modem calling me last night and we don’t even have dial up.  I need help.  For the love of god, man, HELP ME.”

Evil Internet Service Dealer-EISD:“Ma’am.  I have told you that you are scheduled for Friday.  Between 11-2. I cannot do anything more for you.  Someone will be there Friday.”

Me:“FRIDAY?!  FRIDAY?!  Do you know how long that is?  I can’t hold out.  I just can’t do it.  Is it because of that one time I was late on payment?  You know I’m good for it, dude.  I have auto-pay now.  The money is as good as yours.”

EISD:“Ma’am, it has nothing to do with money.  We are booked.  We will have a tech there on Friday.”

Me:“Yeah, yeah–between 11-2.  You suck.  You get someone hooked and then you leave them to withdrawal all alone.  MAY THE GODS OF THE INTERNET STRIKE YOU DOWN!”

EISD:“Calm down ma’am.”

Me:“I’m sorry.  You know I didn’t mean it.  It is the lack of DSL that is talking.  You know I would never wish evil on you.  Soooo, can you get me some today?”

EISD:“No.  Friday.”

Me:“You suck.”


I only have an hour before they get off of their lunch break and I can call again.  I plan on making their life the living hell they are making mine until I get my INTERNET FIXED.

(Sorry…forgot I was in a library.  Can’t SHOUT HERE!)

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My guess is: Tokyo, Massachusettes for a Brown Pie, please

My guess is: Tokyo, Massachusettes for a Brown Pie, please

*UPDATE at the bottom of this entry*

Yesterday was one of those days that make me wonder why I ever got out of bed.  It was one thing after another.  By 5:00pm I snapped and I was in tears.  Mainly because the day was hard.  But also because I was supposed to go out to dinner and have BLUE margaritas (did you hear me?  BLUE MARGARITAS after a hard day) with some awesome women.  But fate, Clint’s job and life did everything to conspire against me meeting up with them.  I was–oh how do I describe it?–a total bitch about it.  By 7:00pm I gave up, put on my jammies and commenced an all out pout session.

A little after 8:00pm, I noticed someone had called.  Listening to the message I realized it was Natalie.  The message went something like this:

“Jenn, we are currently at your house of worship engaging in intellectual discussions about various life topics and would love if you would join us to add to this discourse.  Call me back.”

Or maybe it really said,

“Jenn, we’re at Starbucks playing Trivial Pursuit and need to kick someone’s ass.  Get up here.  We all know we can beat you.”

That was all I needed.  Bad hair, little make-up and bad mood be damned.  I threw on my jeans and a shirt and told Clint I was out of there.  I raced my little car as fast as she would go to my house of worship Starbucks just in time to still join in their game.  Which, by the way, they SO needed me there to help them get all of the answers right make them feel smarter because of my inferior Trivial Pursuit knowledge.  (I still say Tokyo is a small country nestled somewhere in the state of Massachusetts which is bordered by two Great Lakes and–little known fact–is the home to a shitload of baseball players.)

Can I just say how much I completely adore these women?  I had a blast.  They have no idea how much I needed that little bit of time out.  Although the ass whipping on Trivial Pursuit wasn’t totally necessary, ladies.

I have chilled with Natalie before because, well, it makes sense since she lives in HOUSTON.  Of course, I have never been out with Dell because, she lives inconveniently DOWN THE STREET from me.  My impression of Erin?  She is kind of scary for a tiny girl.  And I think she cheated at Trivial Pursuit.  No one in the history of the world knows the answer to that flower thingie that smells like a goat question, girlfriend!  (I kid!  I adore you.) We just all fit in great together. 

Dell, you name the time and place and I am SO ready to break out that Sex and the City Trivia game.  Deal?  But only if we can go get some penis on a stick first.  I am still so sad about missing the Penis on a Stick.

Here you go:  The link to the yummy goodness that I missed out on by not going to dinner with the girls:  Dell’s Penis on a Stick

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I wonder if I should buy this software…

I wonder if I should buy this software…

My husband has learned what it is like to live with a writer.  He has not only learned the lingo, he has also learned how to the mind if a writer works.  (Well, as much as anyone can understand the mind of a writer.)

He sent me this comic today.  I am not sure if he just really understands my ways when it come to writing or if he is saving me the drama that overtakes our house when I don’t “agree” with the response to something I have written. 

Hey, writers…can you relate?


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