Archives for November 2010
I Have A Confession
What are your confessions?
My confession…
I remember being bored at 17, flipping through my mom’s magazines, waiting for my friends to pick me up. Good Housekeeping, Better Foods, and Country magazines were stacked neatly in a pile near the recliner.
Who reads this crap? I’d think to myself. Do women really scurry to their mailboxes for Good Housekeeping, eager to find what new exciting bathroom makeover awaits them?
Maybe my mom did not know that Redbook and Glamour were chock full of tips on how to look amazing AND please your man!
Or maybe she was wise enough to know that her 17 year old skimmed her magazines and she didn’t need her reading about “pleasing” anyone unless it entailed cleaning a room or folding laundry.
Bored, I would toss the magazine into its now messy pile…someday I would subscribe to saucier magazines.
And that someday was last weekend at the grocery store.
In preparation for down time, I quickly browsed a rack of magazines while the checker scanned my groceries, and then grabbed the magazine that made the most sense.
You’ll be surprised to learn that I passed up Redbook and Glamour and even People or USWeekly for a copy of O Magazine.
Oprah.
And that’s not the worst of it. I was so pleased with my O Magazine experience that I actually got online and subscribed.
Am I a hundred?
And that’s not the worst of it.
After subscribing to O Magazine I was encouraged to spend just five dollars more for a YEARS subscription worth of a second magazine. I totally have five dollars so I subscribed to that one too.
Ahem.
It’s…Good Housekeeping.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
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Two Weeks Notice
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: The Funeral
When you’re seven and your Dad dies you will go to your first funeral.
You will like that everyone seems to be paying extra attention to you, but there will be a lump in your throat that you can’t swallow down.
You will feel annoyed at the sight of the packed church because your family is big and you know there won’t be a bench to fit you all.
You will feel pleasantly surprised to find that the good people of the church thought to save your whole family a bench of your own right in the very front.
You will feel lucky.
You will see a long box and an American flag so pretty over the top. You will wonder why it is not hanging on a flag pole, where it belongs.
You will look at the faces behind you because you are seven and you like to stare and you will see Penny. Penny who is always smiling and happy, the way anyone named Penny should be.
Penny, who likes your short hair and who’s carpet you threw up on when you wouldn’t stop eating pizza at her daughter Misty’s birthday party like she asked you to.
Penny who doesn’t go to church.
And you will remember she doesn’t go to church because Misty once told you they didn’t believe in God and you said a Hail Mary for them that night.
When you stare at the faces in the church and you stop at Penny, who is always smiling and happy, and you see that she is crying with a tissue in her hand, you will have your first moment. A moment when the dots begin to connect.
Because only something really bad could make Penny look like that in a place like this.
You will glance away quickly but every face will be the same. All of them crying.
The faces will make you sad. You will stop staring.
You will return your gaze to the box and you will know your Dad is in there. You will wait for him to come out. You will know that is just something he would do to get a good laugh out of everybody. You will remain hopeful and anticipate his joke.
But he will not come out.
The priest’s monotonous sing-song voice will pull you from your dots. He will talk about your Dad’s brown eyes which will get a small chuckle from the sniffling crowd because anyone with half a brain knows that your Dad’s eyes are the most sparkling beautiful blue eyes that ever were.
You will want to punch the priest in the face for calling your Dad’s blue eyes brown.
Your sister will nudge you with her elbow and point to your little brother who is smaller than you, but smarter. Smarter, because he connected the dots earlier. You know this because he’s already crying and you won’t cry until later.
You will walk away from the packed church feeling sad. People will encourage you to sing songs and act silly because they like to see the children happy when they have lost a friend. You will play your part. You will make them smile. But the lump in your throat that will not let you swallow will not be ignored.
You will go home with your big family, but it will not feel big anymore.
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: Extended Family
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: Second Grade
My Regretful Post…I’m Sorry
I was going to write about a post I regret publishing, but I couldn’t decide between the insensitive recount of the armless man I saw fall over in the middle of the road, the judgmental piece I wrote about certain women who scare me, or the hilarious post I wrote about a horse I loved that fell off a cliff and died that left readers feeling confused and sad, and not at all like laughing.
My indeciveness and throbbing head cold told me to stop thinking so hard about my regretful post and to choose the easier “where are they now” prompt instead, but since all our favorite stars have been covered by E! True Hollywood Story, I decided it would be fun to cover our favorite tv dogs.
I looked up the Taco Time dog and the Bud Light dog, Spuds Mackenzie…I looked up the Homeward Bound crew and Air Bud and Tiger from The Brady Bunch…
Sounds interesting right?
Well it’s not because they’re all dead.
Homeward Bound was actually filmed with eight dogs and eight cats and I’ll never look at Sassy the same again. I’m not entirely positive they’re all dead, but it’s probable.
Gidget the Mexican chihuahua had a stroke and was euthanized.
Air Bud died of cancer.
Tiger was hit by a car and killed while taping an episode called “Katchoo”, where we learn that Jan is in fact allergic to the little fella.
And Spuds Mackenzie, who’s real name was Honey Tree Evil Eye died of kidney failure.
It occurred to me that even if the dogs were not dead, but were indeed alive and living happily in their post Hollywood homes, this post would still be lacking in the entertainment department.
Am I really writing a “where are they now” celebrity dog recap???
Can this count as my most regretted published post?
Why I’d Rather Eat Bird Seed Than Exercise My Right To Vote
- Because the amount of spam I’ve gotten via automated phone calls everyday for the past too long is ridiculous and rude and always during nap time.
- Because everyone gripes about how politicians can’t be trusted, but gets mad when I refuse to give one my vote.
- Because my voting outfit makes me look fat.
- Because too much time is wasted on commercials that attack opposing candidates instead of educating people who don’t know stuff.
- Because Al Yankovic said I don’t have to.
- Because our local senate contest has cost more than$40 million in campaign spending while our state is filled with people who don’t have jobs and can’t keep their kids fed.
- Because I couldn’t decide between the woman who has “done nothing to help the public” and the man who “doesn’t care about the public’s future”.
- Because I don’t matter. And I know I don’t matter because never in the history of political voting has anyone won (or lost) by a single vote*.
- Because I don’t think anyone wants me voting for people based on whether or not I can see myself making out with them.
- Because even after all my pleading, Sir. Topham Hatt, who does an incredible job of managing the Island of Sodor, refuses to run for governor…and it just busts my bumpers.
- Because I’m ignorant and Al Yankovic said I don’t have to.
*I actually just made that up, but it’s unlikely no?