The hubby always makes jokes over the phone when I'm headed home about getting the strippers out of the house. Last night, Son #1 was following suit by pretending that daddy really does have hot chicks over in the afternoons. Anything for a laugh in our house.
He then started laughing really hard and said, "Nah, he'd probably rather see you stripping." I responded, "Good Lord, not a chance. What would make you think that?"
"I read a study in Redbook magazine which shows that men fantasize about naked women over 50."
Well, that explains the t-shirt idea. I think it's time to censor the smutty magazines that Grannie brings over! Really, I was just interested in the oh-so-interesting articles about how to make Fast, Delicious, 30 Minute Dinners . . . pinky swear.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Sorry Guys
A few years ago, I bought a t-shirt that read, "My kid is a genius." I wore it to a function at our preschool just to see everyone's reactions in our hyper-competitive town.
Around the same time, my girlfriend was dating a guy who went to Vegas and purchased for her a t-shirt in the hotel gift shop that was black and bejeweled with the acronym MILF. Funny (not to mention thoughtful and flattering) but not really wearable unless you're somewhat egomaniacal.
Today, Son #1 came up with his own concept and called me at work. "I just told dad that I wanted to get you a t-shirt that says, 'Sorry guys. I'm married.'"
What a cutie, right? And it's funny! I think there's a market for that shirt.
Around the same time, my girlfriend was dating a guy who went to Vegas and purchased for her a t-shirt in the hotel gift shop that was black and bejeweled with the acronym MILF. Funny (not to mention thoughtful and flattering) but not really wearable unless you're somewhat egomaniacal.
Today, Son #1 came up with his own concept and called me at work. "I just told dad that I wanted to get you a t-shirt that says, 'Sorry guys. I'm married.'"
What a cutie, right? And it's funny! I think there's a market for that shirt.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Big Audio Dynamite
A few weeks ago, the kids were surfing some auditory website and were testing the hubby's and my hearing loss.
Them, "Can you hear this?"
Me, "Are you really playing a sound?"
I discovered that, in addition to all of my other complaints on this blog, my ears are aging, as well. Anything above a certain frequency, I cannot hear. As you may expect with a musician, the hubby's hearing loss is worse.
Now, it's being used as a form of torture. I'll be driving along, minding my own business, when I hear the ever-annoying plea from the back seat, "Cut it out. Stop that. I said cut it out. Mom, make him STOP."
It's Son #1 playing some screeching noises on his iPod just to annoy his brother knowing full well that I can't hear 'em. I need a miracle ear. Maybe, just maybe, in this case, it's better that I can't hear. Otherwise, I need some snake oil.
When all around you seems like hell, just one sip will make you well . . .
Them, "Can you hear this?"
Me, "Are you really playing a sound?"
I discovered that, in addition to all of my other complaints on this blog, my ears are aging, as well. Anything above a certain frequency, I cannot hear. As you may expect with a musician, the hubby's hearing loss is worse.
Now, it's being used as a form of torture. I'll be driving along, minding my own business, when I hear the ever-annoying plea from the back seat, "Cut it out. Stop that. I said cut it out. Mom, make him STOP."
It's Son #1 playing some screeching noises on his iPod just to annoy his brother knowing full well that I can't hear 'em. I need a miracle ear. Maybe, just maybe, in this case, it's better that I can't hear. Otherwise, I need some snake oil.
When all around you seems like hell, just one sip will make you well . . .
Monday, July 11, 2011
I Love Annie
Son #1 and I went to a retro 50's diner for a cheeseburger the other night. (One word review: Yuck.)
We were just hanging out, waiting for our food when his eyes opened as wide as saucers. "Was Grannie an actress when she was younger?"
I turned to look at the TV screen behind me where "The Lucy Show" was showing. "No, that's Lucille Ball. She's a famous comedian."
"She looks exactly like Grannie!"
He then proceeded to point out every expression. "Did you see that one?!"
I had never noticed the similarities before but he was right. Grannie, who is also really funny (but more sarcastic than silly), missed her calling.
We were just hanging out, waiting for our food when his eyes opened as wide as saucers. "Was Grannie an actress when she was younger?"
I turned to look at the TV screen behind me where "The Lucy Show" was showing. "No, that's Lucille Ball. She's a famous comedian."
"She looks exactly like Grannie!"
He then proceeded to point out every expression. "Did you see that one?!"
I had never noticed the similarities before but he was right. Grannie, who is also really funny (but more sarcastic than silly), missed her calling.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Lucky Four Leaf Clover
When I was in elementary school, I went to camp one summer at the YMCA with a neighborhood girl whose sister was my sis' best friend. Their mom had just died and somehow she and I were coerced into attending drama camp together. I don't remember much about the acting portion of the camp but I do remember she found a patch of four-leaf clovers and wouldn't tell me where they were. I spent every lunch break outside scouring the hillside for four-leaf clovers to no avail.
To me, they're elusive. Like elves, leprechauns and fairies, I'm not sure they even exist. (Except for the tooth fairy. I know her pretty well.)
A few weeks ago, one of the little girls across the street, B, was bemoaning the fact that the other kids at school always come back from lunch with four-leaf clovers and she can never find any. She shared with me that she spends her lunch break looking and looking.
A kindred soul.
We agreed to walk over to the school playground this summer and together we would find some. Why not? I've been looking for them for over forty years now all alone. It would be good to have some company.
Just last week, my neighbor/girlfriend Ellie posted on Facebook that they have a patch of four-leaf clovers in their yard. I excitedly told B and she began bringing it up in conversation approximately every two minutes. So yesterday, she and I headed over to Ellie's and, alas, couldn't find them. The directions were clear: to the right of the weeping cherry tree. Maybe it's us? As my kids would say, epic fail.
When Ellie got home, she texted me: did you get some? When I responded, "no," she went outside, found one, took a pic and sent it to me. I headed back and Ellie pointed them out to me. And there they were: mixed right in with the three-leaf clovers, same plant, same branch, different clover.
Now I can't wait for B to get home from her grandmother's this weekend! Oh the joy.
This is my four-leaf clover. Can you see it?
Why don't you come over? I'll show you my four leaf clover.
To me, they're elusive. Like elves, leprechauns and fairies, I'm not sure they even exist. (Except for the tooth fairy. I know her pretty well.)
A few weeks ago, one of the little girls across the street, B, was bemoaning the fact that the other kids at school always come back from lunch with four-leaf clovers and she can never find any. She shared with me that she spends her lunch break looking and looking.
A kindred soul.
We agreed to walk over to the school playground this summer and together we would find some. Why not? I've been looking for them for over forty years now all alone. It would be good to have some company.
Just last week, my neighbor/girlfriend Ellie posted on Facebook that they have a patch of four-leaf clovers in their yard. I excitedly told B and she began bringing it up in conversation approximately every two minutes. So yesterday, she and I headed over to Ellie's and, alas, couldn't find them. The directions were clear: to the right of the weeping cherry tree. Maybe it's us? As my kids would say, epic fail.
When Ellie got home, she texted me: did you get some? When I responded, "no," she went outside, found one, took a pic and sent it to me. I headed back and Ellie pointed them out to me. And there they were: mixed right in with the three-leaf clovers, same plant, same branch, different clover.
Now I can't wait for B to get home from her grandmother's this weekend! Oh the joy.
This is my four-leaf clover. Can you see it?
Why don't you come over? I'll show you my four leaf clover.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Extreme Makeover: Weight Gain Edition
Last Saturday morning, I was in the locker room in the gym brushing my hair when Christine, one of my BFF's since childhood, came in. I said, "Hey!" and she, of course (always polite), said "Hi!" and kept walking. I continued, "By the way, I was thinking of going to the lake tonight and thought maybe I could pawn my kids off on you since you're driving down tomorrow." She stopped, turned around and said, "OMG, I didn't recognize you a minute ago."
(Note: She also asked, a moment later when discussing what to bring, "Do you like wine?")
Whaaaat? We've been friends for over 40 years. We see each other all of the time. I found it somewhat incredulous. (Answer: Yes, I like wine.)
On Sunday morning, I was drinking coffee on the front porch of my girlfriend Mary's main cottage and another friend from childhood, Anne (of previous post cigarette fame) with whom I had bunked the night before in the guest house, came over. She then asked me where I was.
Um, right here?
She said, "OMG, I thought you were somebody else." Really? In broad daylight? From a foot away? After having spent the entire night with me?
Later that afternoon, I was coming up the lawn from the lake and both girlfriends were in the hot tub. Anne spotted me and asked Christine, "Who is that walking up the hill?"
Christine felt vindicated. "See?! It's not just me."
Today, I'm sitting in a sausage dress with my buttons almost popping open encased in my own personal hell.
I guess the good news is that apparently no one will know it's me.
(Note: She also asked, a moment later when discussing what to bring, "Do you like wine?")
Whaaaat? We've been friends for over 40 years. We see each other all of the time. I found it somewhat incredulous. (Answer: Yes, I like wine.)
On Sunday morning, I was drinking coffee on the front porch of my girlfriend Mary's main cottage and another friend from childhood, Anne (of previous post cigarette fame) with whom I had bunked the night before in the guest house, came over. She then asked me where I was.
Um, right here?
She said, "OMG, I thought you were somebody else." Really? In broad daylight? From a foot away? After having spent the entire night with me?
Later that afternoon, I was coming up the lawn from the lake and both girlfriends were in the hot tub. Anne spotted me and asked Christine, "Who is that walking up the hill?"
Christine felt vindicated. "See?! It's not just me."
Today, I'm sitting in a sausage dress with my buttons almost popping open encased in my own personal hell.
I guess the good news is that apparently no one will know it's me.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Five Finger Fourth Fun
What a fabulous, wonderful, sunny, awesome weekend spent first with my sis and her hubby on Seneca Lake (thank you!) and next at my girlfriend Mary's house on Keuka Lake. So. Much. Stinkin. Fun.
Tubing. Swimming. Hot tub-ing. Laughing. Over $3K worth of fireworks!
Dinner at the Switz. Clam bake and pig roast the next day. (Did you know that pigs come with their eyes still in their sockets? Did you also know that the eyes don't pop right out -- they require serious hacking, cutting, sawing, pulling? Did you know that my girlfriends puke easily? And they don't like eyeballs thrown at them? I learned a lot this weekend.)
I love, love, love my friends. They're hilarious, wild, smart, crazy, beautiful, genuine and kind. And so are their kids.
Rumor has it that I missed even more fun on the last night as my kids joined us earlier that day and I was worried (rightly so) that it would get out of control so we left at nightfall. Dodged a bullet. Good for them. Sad for me! I began to see it coming when Son #1 saw my girlfriend Anne’s cigarettes and asked her (in a sincerely shocked voice), “You SMOKE?” and she responded, “No! They’re your mom’s.” Thankfully he's quick enough to know when someone is messing with him.
Instead, we celebrated the Fourth with a neighborhood firepit and rum cocktails that I made and the neighbors dubbed the Five Finger Death Punch. We walked over to the soccer field to watch the fireworks from all the surrounding towns and country clubs. The kids then roughed it in a tent in our yard with their iPods.
I want this summer to last forever.
Tubing. Swimming. Hot tub-ing. Laughing. Over $3K worth of fireworks!
Dinner at the Switz. Clam bake and pig roast the next day. (Did you know that pigs come with their eyes still in their sockets? Did you also know that the eyes don't pop right out -- they require serious hacking, cutting, sawing, pulling? Did you know that my girlfriends puke easily? And they don't like eyeballs thrown at them? I learned a lot this weekend.)
I love, love, love my friends. They're hilarious, wild, smart, crazy, beautiful, genuine and kind. And so are their kids.
Rumor has it that I missed even more fun on the last night as my kids joined us earlier that day and I was worried (rightly so) that it would get out of control so we left at nightfall. Dodged a bullet. Good for them. Sad for me! I began to see it coming when Son #1 saw my girlfriend Anne’s cigarettes and asked her (in a sincerely shocked voice), “You SMOKE?” and she responded, “No! They’re your mom’s.” Thankfully he's quick enough to know when someone is messing with him.
Instead, we celebrated the Fourth with a neighborhood firepit and rum cocktails that I made and the neighbors dubbed the Five Finger Death Punch. We walked over to the soccer field to watch the fireworks from all the surrounding towns and country clubs. The kids then roughed it in a tent in our yard with their iPods.
I want this summer to last forever.
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