Leaving Comments
Some people leave clever, witty comments everywhere they go—on all of their friends’ blogs, on perfect strangers’ blogs, with spray paint on billboards, etc. Not me.
Comments totally intimidate me. What if I were to leave a comment on, say…Rebecca’s blog? First of all, 20,000 people could potentially read that comment and judge me for leaving a lame comment. And secondly, what if Rebecca’s Mom were to read that comment and then tell my mom about it? My mom already thinks blogging is for self-absorbed people. She might ground me or something.
But more than the intimidation factor, I struggle with a lack of talent. I sit around for days trying to think up something funny to say, but when something even 1% clever finally comes to mind, the post has been long forgotten.
I totally live for comments. It makes my day when somebody leaves one. So why am I so bad at leaving them?
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Junior High Reunion
I met up with my best friends from 7th grade last week. It was pretty rad because remember how all of my old pictures look funny because I used to be 3 feet shorter than everyone?
Not anymore, suckas! I can wear big shoes now.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Nerd Alert
WARNING: Only read this if you’ve already seen Superman Returns. Seriously, I might ruin it for you if you keep reading.
Ben and I finally saw the new Superman movie last weekend. I really liked it, except for one thing. Why is there confusion about who the father of
Ben didn’t enjoy the movie as much as I did, but he had no problem with the confusion regarding Jason’s father. Why? Because, duh…the gestation period for alien fetuses is obviously longer than nine months.
That's just the kind of stuff you learn when you go to a private school called Star Trek Sci Tech Academy.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Baby Names
My mom was in town visiting this past week, which made me lucky enough to overhear a great telephone conversation she had with a representative from her airline.
The guy asked for my mom’s frequent flyer number, and then asked for her code word to verify her identity.
My mom wasn’t totally sure what her code word was. She started out with, “Is it ‘Scuffy’?” When that one didn’t fly, she switched to, “Is it ‘Spiz’?” Bingo! When they told her that was it, she explained, “I knew it was either my dog or my grandchild.”
I just wish I could have heard what was going on in the airline dude’s head at that moment. I bet he decided right then and there to name his future child either Spiz or Scuffy. If somebody else could do it, why not him?
The guy asked for my mom’s frequent flyer number, and then asked for her code word to verify her identity.
My mom wasn’t totally sure what her code word was. She started out with, “Is it ‘Scuffy’?” When that one didn’t fly, she switched to, “Is it ‘Spiz’?” Bingo! When they told her that was it, she explained, “I knew it was either my dog or my grandchild.”
I just wish I could have heard what was going on in the airline dude’s head at that moment. I bet he decided right then and there to name his future child either Spiz or Scuffy. If somebody else could do it, why not him?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Things at Which I Do Not Excel, Part II
Removing Whatever I’m Storing in the Oven Before Preheating It
I got this habit from my mom of storing baked goods in the oven. It might have something to do with the fact that we had ants in California. Who knows? But for some reason whenever I make brownies, I feel the need to cover the uneaten portion with plastic wrap and store them in the oven. And then the next day when it’s time to preheat the oven to pop in a frozen pizza, I never look inside to make sure it’s empty. Never ever.
It’s not even like I cook brownies OR pizza that often. The probability of me using the oven two days in a row is super slim, but for some reason it always happens.
The first time it happened, I thought I learned my lesson. “Silly me,” I thought. “I’ll never make that mistake again.” And then I made that mistake again a week later. And then a week after that.
The third time it happened, I called Ben and said, “You’re not going to believe what I did.” Only instead of saying, “Dyed your hair purple?” or “Taught Liam how to read?” he said, “Turned on the oven while something was inside?”
I got this habit from my mom of storing baked goods in the oven. It might have something to do with the fact that we had ants in California. Who knows? But for some reason whenever I make brownies, I feel the need to cover the uneaten portion with plastic wrap and store them in the oven. And then the next day when it’s time to preheat the oven to pop in a frozen pizza, I never look inside to make sure it’s empty. Never ever.
It’s not even like I cook brownies OR pizza that often. The probability of me using the oven two days in a row is super slim, but for some reason it always happens.
The first time it happened, I thought I learned my lesson. “Silly me,” I thought. “I’ll never make that mistake again.” And then I made that mistake again a week later. And then a week after that.
The third time it happened, I called Ben and said, “You’re not going to believe what I did.” Only instead of saying, “Dyed your hair purple?” or “Taught Liam how to read?” he said, “Turned on the oven while something was inside?”
Monday, August 07, 2006
The Type of Confession that Should Be Made Long Before Marriage
Remember those Choose Your Own Adventure books from elementary school, where you get to page 16 and have to decide whether to turn to page 24 to open the door in front of you or turn to page 35 to go around to the side window instead?
I totally loved those books. I thought was probably Choose Your Own Aventure’s biggest fan. But I found out last week that my husband was so much more devoted than I could have possibly dreamed.
The first time Ben read one of those books, he was blown away that people would consider themselves finished with a book when so many pages were left unread. He couldn’t possibly put the book down until he had found out what was on every single page.
He tried reading it from cover to cover, but it didn’t make sense that way.
So he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and kept track of each decision he made. Then he went back and reread the book several more times, choosing different scenarios and keeping track of each decision, until he had finished the entire thing.
And he used this same method on all of the Choose Your Own Adventure books he ever read.
Can you believe I only found this out last week?
I totally loved those books. I thought was probably Choose Your Own Aventure’s biggest fan. But I found out last week that my husband was so much more devoted than I could have possibly dreamed.
The first time Ben read one of those books, he was blown away that people would consider themselves finished with a book when so many pages were left unread. He couldn’t possibly put the book down until he had found out what was on every single page.
He tried reading it from cover to cover, but it didn’t make sense that way.
So he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and kept track of each decision he made. Then he went back and reread the book several more times, choosing different scenarios and keeping track of each decision, until he had finished the entire thing.
And he used this same method on all of the Choose Your Own Adventure books he ever read.
Can you believe I only found this out last week?
Friday, August 04, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Things at Which I Do Not Excel, Part I
Cutting My Own Hair
And still I continue to do it. Every time. And without fail, I regret my decision every time. About once a year I even give myself bangs, and then I spend the rest of the year growing them out and wishing I had never cut them.
Last year I told Ben that if I ever threatened to cut bangs again, he should talk me out of it fast. So this year I had to come up with a long list of reasons why I needed bangs before Ben believed that I wouldn’t regret my decision.
I told him that I needed to cover up the silly little hairs that were growing in after a bunch fell out when Liam was born. Why did that happen, anyway?
Next I told him that my face was too long and too narrow at the top, and that bangs would make it seem shorter and less egg-shaped.
Then I told him that I just didn’t have enough bangs last time, and that’s why they looked funny. They were too thin.
Eventually Ben said, “Look, I don’t care what you do to your hair. I’m just saying what you told me to say.” So I gave myself bangs and guess what? I’m already regretting it. Luckily I cut about half my head into bangs this time, so it will look like a sweet mullet ALL YEAR LONG while it’s growing out.
And still I continue to do it. Every time. And without fail, I regret my decision every time. About once a year I even give myself bangs, and then I spend the rest of the year growing them out and wishing I had never cut them.
Last year I told Ben that if I ever threatened to cut bangs again, he should talk me out of it fast. So this year I had to come up with a long list of reasons why I needed bangs before Ben believed that I wouldn’t regret my decision.
I told him that I needed to cover up the silly little hairs that were growing in after a bunch fell out when Liam was born. Why did that happen, anyway?
Next I told him that my face was too long and too narrow at the top, and that bangs would make it seem shorter and less egg-shaped.
Then I told him that I just didn’t have enough bangs last time, and that’s why they looked funny. They were too thin.
Eventually Ben said, “Look, I don’t care what you do to your hair. I’m just saying what you told me to say.” So I gave myself bangs and guess what? I’m already regretting it. Luckily I cut about half my head into bangs this time, so it will look like a sweet mullet ALL YEAR LONG while it’s growing out.
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