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Month: May 2005

Time off for good behavior!

Time off for good behavior!

Did I mention that I was going out of town for a week?  And that the week I was going out of town started last Monday and I would be getting home yesterday?  Did I? 

Oooops. My bad.  Let me fix that.

Hey, Internet, I am going out of town.  I will be home yesterday.

Better?

But see it is even better than that!  I went out of town with 3 kids and a dog.  I came home with a dog.  That’s right.  I finally made good on my threat to drop the kiddos off on the side of I-45 and make them walk home.

No, not really.  Geez, people!  But I did leave them in the very wonderful and very capable hands of my sister.  FOR A WEEK.

That’s right A WEEK of no kids.  No bedtimes.  No planning if I want to go out.  No fights to break up.  No whining to deal with.

Just one week of ME TIME.  (Just don’t tell my agent or she will expect a lot more work out of me now.)

And you people expect me to BLOG when I could be running through the house naked listening to 80’s music while eating ice cream for dinner?  Yeah right.  I love you all, but not that much.  I have naked running and ice cream eating to do.

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Does a new laptop come with that?

Does a new laptop come with that?

I forgot the best part of the story below.  So, I am the Person In Charge of putting together the Memory Books for the kids.  Basically, the memory book consists of each 5th grader’s picture and then a series of questions like “best memory…” and “when I grow up I want to be a…”.  You get the picture.

I started off with a $150 budget.  For 80 memory books.  Well, not one to do things half-assed, I decided to rearrange the budget and got it bumped up to $250.  (GO me!)

If you know me at all or have learned anything from reading this blog, you know that I pretty much live by the motto “Everything in excess!” This would be no exception!

Black and white photos?  Pah!  We are going COLOR!

Two students per page?  Please!  We are going “one per” on this project.

Card stock covers?  I think not!  We’re having slick covers, baby.

(And these people allowed ME to be in charge?  Seriously?  I laugh at their lack of judgement!)

Remember that $250 budget I was so very proud of?  Imagine the horror…the sheer horror I felt upon getting this claim check when I was trying to get the books made.

Imagine if you will a frantic and freaked out woman at 11:00pm, crying and becoming hysterical when seeing this figure.  I believe I even fainted for a moment or two.

Again, I ask… Why did these people leave me in charge?  They KNOW me!  They know my general disregard for the rules, especially PTfreakinA rules.  Come on people.  Puh-leez!

It all worked out in the end.  I mean, I owe my husband in ways that are not even fit to put into type for saving my ass on this.  But, the kids got their memory books.  The PTfreakinA didn’t have to fork over $2,758.40. (Don’t forget the 40 cents, people.  It all counts!) And I got all of the credit.  Which we all know I am a credit whore who wants all of the praise and adoration. 

When it came time to turn in receipts and get checks cut for reimbursements, I totally wanted to submit this claim checkI thought it would be pretty damn hysterical to watch the PTfreakinA president and treasurer freak the hell out when they saw it.  I mean, worst case scenario, I get a great laugh at their expense.  Best case, I get that check cut and can go back to Fry’s and buy my own lickable laptop.

Come on, admit it.  You would be tempted to turn that receipt in, too.  Wouldn’t you?

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All this and cake too?

All this and cake too?

I don’t know if I mentioned that I would be MIA due to the 5th grade graduation.

Fifth Grade.  Graduation.  (I shall pause here while you all vomit in your mouths and get fresh water.)

Remember when I was outted to a PTAer earlier in the year?  And when that person put my name on a list to “help” with the end of the year graduation program?  Remember that?  Well, we can TOTALLY blame her for my absence as of late. (Do you want her email address?  I will totally give it to you!)

I mean, they really do make a big deal out of the fact that these kids made it through elementary school.  Here is a brief breakdown of a few of the things involved that I was in charge of seeing completed.

80 Memory Books………$302

80 Slide Show DVDs…..$197

Excess Drinking by Volunteers…………$78

Listening to the friend who is responsible for getting me over-involved scream like a little girl who is seeing her own death flash before her eyes after she got me sucked back into the PTA…….Priceless

I am seriously surprised at all that the school does for the 5th graders when they graduate. They had a graduation ceremony. (No caps and gowns, but very dressed up kiddos.) They all got a memory book (you’re welcome) and a copy of the DVD slide show that was shown at graduation (again, you’re welcome) and a reception. 

Now, don’t get me wrong.  The kids love it.  The parents get to ooooh and ahhhh over their little spawns.  It’s just that it is FIFTH GRADE. 

*blank stare*

Want to know what I got for graduating 5th grade?

The opportunity to go to 6th grade.

Is this something that is particular to this area (aka Snotty, Tx) or is this something everyone does?  I really need to know this information because I am shocked at what a big deal it was.  I, therefore, feel like the Grinch Who Stole Graduation because I think it is so over the top for 5th graders.  I need to know what other areas of the country do.  How did/does your elementary school handle the end of elementary school? 

Because, seriously, if this is something that is just particular to Snotty, Tx, I am so going to move to PiddlePiss, Tx so that I can avoid this in the future.

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SNAKE!

SNAKE!

When I am stressed, my sympathy level for other human beings goes pretty low.

Broke both of your arms?  So sorry.  Can you pass me that disc with your toes, please?

Dog ran away?  So sorry.  While you’re out looking can you pick up another printer cartridge for me?

Snake loose in your house?  So sorry.  But thanks for the laugh!

Seriously.  Sympathy was way low for others this week.  I was buried in end-of-the-year activities for the boys.  And by that of course I mean, PTA stuff.  Yes, you heard me right.  PTfreakinA stuff. Well, I guess you could say that it was for my son Brandon and his 5th grade class because it totally was!  But I had to report and go through the PTfreakinA.

And there is *one woman I blame for all of it. Ironically, she just so happens to be a very good friend of mine– even if she is a Stepford.  (You SO know who you are, too!) In fact, when she called me this week, I answered the phone every time with, “I hate you.  What do you want?”

Nice, huh.

She thought so, too.

So, while I am at her house either dropping something off, picking something up or just stopping by to say, “I hate you” I noticed her precious children outside with a large bucket.  Whatever was in the bucket had them entranced.  Her daughter sees me, leaps up and shoves the bucket at me.

“Wanna see my SNAKE?!”

Ummm, I’ll go with NO, not so much.

Fast forward to later that night.  Her husband and daughter (also a 5th grader like Brandon) decided it is a good idea to keep the SNAKE in the house. Inside the house.  INSIDE.  THE HOUSE.  Much to the sheer horror of her mother, the snake was invited to slumber within the cozy comfort of her home.  You must understand, this woman is NOT a fan of snakes.  At all.  None.

(You totally see where this is going, don’t you.)

The next morning I get a call.  Of course I answer it, “I hate you.  What do you want?”

“The SNAKE is out of the aquarium.  IT’S IN MY HOUSE!”

Yes, I laughed.  So sue me.  Then I tried the reassuring crap like “He is more afraid of you than you are of him” and of course “He probably found his way out already.  I am sure he is gone.”

All the while thinking, “He is SO going to end up in your bed tonight.”

Later that night I get a call.  (At least I think that is when it was.  Time blurs after the week I had.)

“I hate you.  What do you want?”

“Blah blah PTfreakinA blah blah blah”

And then…

“SNAKE SNAKE OH MY GOD SNAKESNAKESNAKESNAKE!” and then much yelling of her daughter’s name.  The sounds become more frantic but further away.  I think she dropped the phone.  Then I hear, “SNAKE. GOTTA GO!” *click*

I am not at all ashamed to admit that I totally peed my pants laughing at her.

I didn’t even answer the phone with “I hate you” when she called again.

I did however answer with, “That was the best laugh I have had in years. Thank you ever so much!”

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The one where I am banned from Fry’s

The one where I am banned from Fry’s

Clint says I am never allowed to go to Fry’s with him again.  Ever.  I totally think he is over reacting to our experience there.

I am not big into appliances and computer products.  However, I agreed to go and check things out with him.  It all started because of my laptop.  You see, I have this love/hate relationship with my laptop.  I love to hate it.  Yet, I love having it when I need it.  It’s just that it is so old and slow and weighs about 57 pounds (give or take).  To put it into perspective, we bought it before Gabriella was even an idea, let alone a living breathing person.  In computer years, that makes it about 47 years old.  So, it is only natural that I would long for a new laptop.  A shiny, pretty, fast one that won’t throw my back out whenever I carry it to lovely little coffee shops when I write. 

How does he expect me to act when it takes me to a store that has ROWS of shiny, skinny laptops?

Apparently he did not expect me to run up and down the aisles licking them all and grabbing up the most lucsious ones to rub up and down all over my body.  Hey, it’s not like they bolt those laptops down or anything!  They have those great retractable chords attached to them for just this reason. They expect people to do that!  They understand that people like me will shove them down their blouses and rub them against their flesh! 

He thinks I acted inappropriately.  He thinks that I exhibited an inappropriate public display of affection towards an electronic device.  (As if!)

After I was forced away from the rows and rows of glorious laptops, I managed to regain some control of myself and my behavior.

Until we came upon the washer and dryer that were sent from the god of all things laundry.  That washing machine will wash 16 (SIXTEEN) pairs of jeans in one load.  SIXTEEN!  And that dryer?  Look at the gloriousness of that dryer!  I did what any laundry hating woman who finds her salvation sitting right there in front of her would do.

He seems to think that it was completely out of line for me to strip off all of my clothes and climb into the washing machine (front loading washing machine, I might add) screaming, “SIXTEEN PAIRS OF JEANS, PEOPLE! SIXTEEN!” Personally, I think he was just embarrassed that he didn’t think to do it first.

I just don’t get it.  It’s not like I stole anything.  Some people just really overreact, if you ask me.

So, who wants to go back to Fry’s with me next weekend?

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There’s no problem purple flip flops can’t solve

There’s no problem purple flip flops can’t solve

Hello.  My name is Jennifer and I am a shoe addict.  It has been 93 minutes since my last shoe fix.  But it totally was not my fault.

Summer will soon be upon us.  Unless of course you live in Texas where it has already bitch-slapped you more than once.  My children rudely decided that they would outgrow last year’s summer shoes, so I was forced to take them shoe shopping.  For the kids.  Really.  Shopping for the kids to buy summer shoes.

So I am sitting on the floor of the store amidst rows and rows of shoes trying various sandals on Gabriella (Pink, Mom!  They MUST be PINK!) when I hear this faint whisper.

“Psssst…psst…Jenn.  Over here.”

I glance around and don’t see anyone.  I shrug it off and continue trying to convince Gabriella that shoes that have colors other than pink are not of the devil.

“Psssst…JENN.  Over here.  OVER. HERE.”

I look over my left shoulder and see them.  In all of their 50% off purple glory.  My breath catches in my throat.  I mean, I have dress sandals, fun sandals, jeans sandals, casual sandals, thongs, strappy and toe-torture sandals.  But, the perfect pair of beach/pool/sport flip-flops?  (And I quote:  “While out and about, you’ll love how soft, lightweight and flexible this sandal’s outsole is. Made of injected EVA, a rubber-like foam that’s lighter than most sandals. The comfort continues with an anatomically molded footbed, which means feet will feel at home instantly. Padded thong strap for slip-on ease. All finished off with a sporty look you’ll love.”) I SO don’t have those.  I mean, a gal could search for years and come close, but finding the perfect pair just before summer fun times begin?  Unheard of.  My heart began to race.

“Come on, Jenn.  You know you want us.”

“No.  Come on guys!  You know I can’t do the shoe thing right now.  Why are you tormenting me?”

“We didn’t say you had to buy us.  Just come get a closer look.  Come on.  No one has to know.”

I look around to make sure no one is watching me.  I send Gabriella over to her brothers.  (Some things you just don’t want to subject your young children to before they are ready.  Such as a drooling shoe addicted mom lusting after a fix.)

I pick up the lone “sample-shoe” and run my fingers over the softness of it.  I forcefully slam it back down. 

“NO.”

“Jenn, really.  Just one.  You know you want to see how they feel on your feet.  Just try it for a second.”

I stammer.  “I can’t.  You know I am not strong enough to put them on and stop.  What if I like the feel?  What if “trying” is not enough?” I fondle the shoe some more.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.  Just your right foot then.  Seriously.  We both know your right foot is the strong one.  It will resist.”

I quickly do the math in my head trying to figure out how long I have been without a shoe fix and figure I am safe.

So, I slide my right foot into the gloriousness of this perfect shoe.  YES.  I quickly rip the left shoe out of the box and slide my foot into it’s cushy goodness.  YES. YES.  Oh for the love of flip-flop shoe loving goodness, YES.

I am now the proud owner of my first pair of perfect purple flip-flops.

I may be standing at the beach wedding naked because I couldn’t find a dress, but by all that is shoe yummy goodness, I will have comfortable purple flip-flops on.

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