you me and five bucks

Channeling Lauren Conrad

2010-03-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm a Kelly Cutrone. I'm totally into fashion, but you would never guess it by looking at me. Usually. There are a number of reasons for this. I'm often too lazy to care. I'm usually too broke to go shopping. And I have a toddler, which means I usually have snot and drool and remnants of food somewhere on me at any given moment.

So, I'm usually in something black and comfortable. And I usually could care less what anyone thinks of my wardrobe. Except for one person. Me.

Lately I've been feeling a bit frumpy and blah and just in a rut. So I went out and bought this skirt. It was cute and cheap and just looking at it made me smile. And when I wore it out the first time, there was seriously a little bounce in my step. And I don't normally bounce. More like skulk.

Ah, the power of a cute outfit. It sounds superficial and trivial, but I don't think it is. It's like that saying, "dress for success." What I wear and how I present myself matters. Wearing something that I feel good in matters. This skirt made my day more fun. It made me feel more creative, given the fact that I'm normally dressed in black from head to toe. And those things, in addition to the kind compliments I received, made me feel more confident.

All that for the bargain price of $16.99. Retail therapy, yo.

You Talkin' to Me?

2010-03-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

The other day at the park with Lily, I found this written on the bench. Thanks, Universe. I needed that.

Home Alone

2010-03-09T21:37:00.000-08:00

Steve and X were out of town this past weekend, leaving Lily and me to fend for ourselves.

Now, in past years, being left home alone would freak me out. I'm a self-confessed scaredy cat and I don't like being home alone at night. The first time I was left alone, a lizard snuck in through the back door and I freaked the eff out. I called Steve and made him stay on the phone with me while I built an elaborate trap in the kitchen. Then, with the lizard trapped between shoe boxes and a stack of magazines, I called my friend to pick me up. It was the middle of the night, but I didn't want to sleep at home and risk waking up with an escaped lizard on my face.

The second time I was left alone I slept with all the lights on. Yes, I'm scared of the dark and sleep with a night light every night. Because I think ghosts only come out when it's dark. And I always avert my eyes when passing by a mirror at nighttime because of I'm scared of Bloody Mary. And when I stay up late watching TV, I make Steve sleep on the couch in the livingroom near me because I think killers only attack when you're alone. And I pull the covers tightly up to my chin in bed because I feel like the blankets are like some some kind of magic shield that the boogie man can't penetrate. And no body parts can stick out from under the covers lest they fall prey. Yes, I'm ridiculous. Also? I look away and plug my ears whenever commercials for scary movies come on the TV. Because I'm nine.

Sadly, I'm not making any of this up.

But this past weekend, you would have been proud of me. I didn't call my friends to rescue me in the middle of the night. I only looked over my shoulder a couple of times when walking through the dim rooms. I was able to stay up late by myself without being freaked out by all the weird nighttime noises I heard throughout the house. AND, I slept with only my trusty night light and no other lights on in the house. Yeah, I still avoided mirrors and wrapped myself in an armor of blankets, but that's just good sense.

When Steve got back on Sunday night, I told him, "I'll be alright if you ever end up leaving me."

And he was like, "Huh? What? Can I at least put my luggage down before we get into whatever craziness you're talking about this time?"

Positive Association

2010-03-08T22:35:00.001-08:00

"Surround yourself with people who are better than you in a hundred different ways and allow the force of their character to inspire you to change, grow, and strive to become the best version of yourself." - Matthew Kelly

I believe in the power of positive association. And, at the risk of sounding lame, I've actually been yearning for it lately. To be around other creative people - artists, singers, actors, musicians, dancers, writers. To be inspired by their work and their desire. To see them go after their dreams. See them in their element, doing what they love and live to do. It's contagious. It motivates me to do and be the same.

I've been thinking that maybe I should join some kind of club for creative types. Or start my own. I probably won't because of my social anxiety, but it's fun to think about.

Fab Five: Getting Old

2010-03-03T21:43:00.000-08:00

I know I'm getting old when:

1) I hurt myself doing things that shouldn't hurt to do. Like when I pulled a neck muscle while putting my shirt on. I pulled my shirt over my head, reached my arms back to pull my long hair out, and felt a pull. Stiff neck for the next few days. From putting on a shirt. Seriously?

2) My body parts start to get faulty. All of a sudden my ankles click or my knees creak when I walk. Or, after sitting for a long period of time, I have to do the old person's walk when I first get up - all bent over, shuffling my feet - until my joints loosen up and I can straighten up and walk normally. At 35.

3) I insist I'm still hip. There are two problems here. First, I'm probably not hip if I have to inform someone that I'm still hip. Second, the fact that I used the word 'hip' automatically means I most definitely am not.

4) It makes me happy when the Starbucks cashier calls me Miss. Instead of Ma'am. Yes, I realize you're probably just humoring me, College Boy. You probably know exactly what you're doing. But I don't care. Big tip for you!!

5) I can't stand listening to the radio anymore. I often catch myself thinking, This isn't music, it's just noise! Who am I? I find myself cringe when I hear lyrics like, "Call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock" and "You gon' think I invented sex." Even though I used to sneak listening to N.W.A. and 2 Live Crew CASSETTES on my Walkman back in the day when my mom thought I was listening to Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam.

Speaking of cassette tapes...I was trying to give my son ideas on sweet things he could do for this girl he likes, and I started thinking, he should totally make her a mix tape! Er...CD? Wait, do teenagers even use CD players anymore? Maybe he could make her a mix playlist? It's SO not the same. Mix tapes were the bomb back in the day! And then I felt old.

Speaking of back in the day...a couple of weeks ago, our internet went out and stayed down for a few days. Since my son's lifelines to the outside world are AIM and video chatting, he was all panicked and like, "Dude, how am I going to talk to my friends??" And I was like, "Use the phone. The old-fashioned way!" And he looked at me like I was crazy. And old.

My Daughter, the Comedian

2010-03-02T18:33:00.000-08:00

So on Saturday we went furniture shopping. It was a family affair; we were even ballsy enough to bring along the crazy toddler. At our second stop, we got out of the car and started walking toward the store entrance. X was leading the way, followed by Steve who was holding Lily. Lily watched me as I tagged along last, adjusting the strap of my purse.

And then I scrubbed. Big time.

It happened so fast that I didn't have time to stop it and I can barely remember how it happened. But one part happened real slow motion, like how you see in the movies. It was that split second before I hit the ground and I was thinking, "Oh shit, I'm going to fall. I can't believe I'm falling! I don't have time to regain my balance. Seriously? Am I really going to scrub right now?"

Next thing I knew, Steve was rushing to my side. "Oh shit! Babe, are you OK?!"

And Lily was laughing and clapping her hands. Because she thought I was joking around. Even when I showed her my bloody hand.

And X was trying not to laugh at his little sister laughing at me.

Anyway, I shook it off, bandaged up, and kept on keeping on. We went into the furniture store and shopped around for a bit. Then, out of the blue, we turned around and saw Lily laying on the floor. The hell?

When we got home, we found out what she was doing because she did it again. I was retelling the story of how I fell to my brother, when all of a sudden Lily goes, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" and throws herself on the floor.

Hardy har har.

It was actually pretty damn funny. So we got it on tape for your viewing pleasure.

Artist in the Office

2010-03-01T15:38:00.001-08:00

"How we spend our days is how we spend our lives." Annie Dillard

I read this quote in Artist in the Office, a book I just bought. It struck me because, until I read this quote, I didn't realize that I've been spending my days like my life was on hold. Like, I just had to take care of A, B, and C, AND THEN my life could begin. But A, B, and C have been on my to-do list for a while now. And life was happening whether I was on task or not. The quote reminded me that this day-to-day stuff is my life. So, how am I spending my days?

I first heard of Artist in the Office from one of Alex's websites. The name really intrigued me because that's how I felt, like an artist (stuck) in the office. So I went out and bought it. It was an easy, fun read. At times a little cheesy for my taste, but overall very inspiring for this artist stuck in the office. But the funny thing is that the author actually wrote against the mentality of being an artist stuck in the office. She wrote about how most of us need our day job, how our day jobs are valuable and important, and how we can still be an artist with a day job and not feel "stuck." Well, that's what I got out of it anyway.

The book was full of fun ideas and simple things to do each day that let you be creative even at work. Some ideas are things I already do, like when I wear my bling bling cocktail ring to the office. Not your typical work attire, but so fun. Some ideas are new things I can't wait to try, like making doodle art collages. I know there might be people who think these things are silly. But some of us might find these things are like creative life lines in a day full of meetings and reports.

So if creative days equals a creative life, I will try do something creative each day, even if its simply sneaking in a little lunchtime adventure between the 9 to 5.

Good Grief

2010-01-26T17:14:00.000-08:00

Probably the number one question I get asked is, "How's Lily?" And the number one response I give is, "Crazy, as usual." People probably think I'm exaggerating, or embellishing, as storytellers are wont to do. But really? My daughter is crazy. (This is where Steve would chime in, "She got it from her mama, she got it from her mama!") Not only is she a stubborn, hot-tempered little drama queen, but she's crazy obsessed with me. Like fatal attraction obsessed. Like, will scream bloody murder outside and stick her fingers underneath the door while I use the bathroom obsessed.

I'm not trying to give you TMI, but here's a bathroom story for you. I had to use the bathroom, you see. So, I thought I'd be slick and sneak away while she was engrossed in Sesame Street. Not two minutes after I closed the door did I hear her pitter patter down the hall. Uh oh, here comes trouble. Then she was at the door knocking. And when I didn't open up, she started with the tears, etc. This was not the ideal bathroom-using situation, but I blocked out her cries and just tried to handle my biz, as my brother would say.

Then it suddenly got quiet. Now, any parent knows that when your kid is quiet, your kid is up to something. I perked up my ears and I heard the bathroom trash bin rattle around. And here is where I entered the Five Stages of Good Grief.

1) Denial

She is NOT trying to get into the garbage can right now! I cracked open the door and peeked out to see that, oh yes she WAS trying to get into the garbage can. She doesn't know I see her, but once I bust her out, she'll stop real quick. "Lily! Do not touch." She looked over at me, then turned back to the garbage unfazed.

2) Anger

So I tried playing the disciplinarian. "Lily, NO! NO, Lily, that's dirty! Lily! Mommy said NO! LILY, I SAID NO! LILY!!!" I used my most commanding, threatening, no nonsense voice. I gave her the evil eye. I wagged my finger. She paused for a quick second, weighed her options, then kept on keeping on.

3) Bargaining

When it was evident that she knew I was in no position to physically stop her, I turned to pleading. "Lily, no sweetie. Noooooo. Do you want to watch Sesame Street? Go watch Elmo. Be a good girl, Lily. Okay, you can keep that Old Navy tag you dug out. Now go watch TV, honey."

4) Depression

Homegirl didn't hear a word I said. She knew there was nothing I could do at that particular moment. She had me right where she wanted me. I sat there, helpless, thinking, All I want is to handle my biz in peace for once in my life. Is that too much to ask? Why oh why didn't I close the bedroom door?

5) Acceptance

Then Lily pulled an old toothbrush out of the trash. "Lily, no! Dirty! Give that to Mommy!" I reached out my hand and she sprinted away as fast as her little legs could carry her. I sighed. Fine. Whatever. So what if she puts it in her mouth? She eats off the floor, what's the worst that could happen? I let it go and let her be.

Well, after one final "LILY, DON'T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOOOOOOOOOOOOOUTH!!" that echoed through the house...and fell on deaf ears, I'm sure.

Those Be Fightin' Words

2010-01-25T21:52:00.000-08:00

Do you have an iPhone? If you do, you've probably heard of the game app Words. Maybe you're addicted to it like my brother, who got Steve addicted, who got our nephew and a handful of our friends addicted. Steve's not into video games or sports, so I guess I really can't complain about the amount of time he's spends playing Words. I did have one warning for him though. When I found out that he could play against other random iPhone users, and that they could even text each other, I said to him, "Don't be trying to chat with any girls." What? It's standard protocol around here. I'm not trying to front - I'm crazy jealous and I'm not going to make any apologies. It is what it is.

Do you see where this is going?

So one day I go on Steve's phone to check out this Words game and see who he's playing. And here's what I see on the front page:

Panda played the word HUGS. Your move.

So I click on the game and see that four words have been played.

Steve started with UNWED. That was his first mistake right there.

Panda added WIFE. Yeah, he gots a wife, chick.

Steve added LOVE. Oh no he didn't.

Panda added HUG. Mutha effa.

Them I noticed that homegirl also sent Steve a text. "Is there a theme going on here?" Oh hell to the nah!

Poor, unsuspecting Steve comes out of the room and I POUNCE.

Me: Who the hell is Panda and why is she all texting you?

Steve: Huh? Who?

Me: PANDA. You're playing her on Words.

Steve: Oh. Some random player.

Me: Why do you guys have this love theme going on?

Steve: Love theme? Whatever. Just calm down...

Me: I'm serious! Even SHE thinks there's a theme. Why is she texting you?

Steve: She texted me? I didn't see a text.

Me: Sure you didn't. I told you not to be talking to any girls.

Steve: How do you know 'Panda' is a girl.

Me: Helloooo, 'Panda'?? That's totally a girl.

Steve: But there's lightning bolts. It could be a guy.

Me: I don't think so.

Steve: Babe, it's just a game. I didn't see any text. And those are just the words that came from the letters we were dealt.

Me: I don't care what letters you got, don't be spelling love words with some chick.

Steve: *exasperated sigh*

Now don't be all feeling sorry for Steve. He knew what he was getting himself into from day one with me. But you can go ahead and feel sorry for Panda, because Steve forfeited the game right after his exasperated sigh, and she/he was probably all, "Damn, was it something I said?"

Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

2010-01-14T16:35:00.000-08:00

So, I never told you this, but X had his first girlfriend a few months ago. I wanted to let some time pass before I talked about it, and I don't want to be all up in his business, but it was kind of crazy how I reacted to it all.

First of all, it's annoying having a teenager. I mean, it's bad enough when they start giving you attitude and treat you like you're the most exasperating person in the history of the world. But then I have to start chauffeuring him around? Like I don't have better things to do with my time? And I have to drag my crazy toddler along with me who loathes being in the car?

So all of a sudden X gets an active social life, trying to hang out with his friends every chance he gets. I'm driving all over town taking him to the movies, to the mall, to Sweet Sixteen parties and all that. And he starts talking about people I never heard of before. And he starts telling me about girls. No big deal.

But then I pick him up one night and he tells me about a girl he met at the party. Then he goes on to chat it up with her every day. Next thing I know, he's trying to go on his first date. As in, first date ever in his life. They hang out at a football game, Steve picks him up afterward, and on the way home they pick up ice cream.

So there I am doing my little happy dance for a surprise ice cream cone when he starts telling me about his date. How he put his arm around her. How they held hands. And I'm sitting there, robotically eating my ice cream, but I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then a few days later he asks her to be his girlfriend. And, no joke, I cry.

Yes, I realize that's totally ridiculous. And yes, I feel like a lame ass. But, DUDE. In the span of like two weeks, my son had his first date, first girlfriend, and first kiss? My head was spinning. I mean, his first date/girlfriend/kiss in his sophomore year? That's not bad at all. But, couldn't he take it down a notch? Let me catch my breath real quick?

Talking to Steve about it later that night I realized it was just the pain of letting go. The realization that my little boy is not really a little boy anymore. That these are his first steps of breaking out from under my wing. That I needed to cut the damn umbilical cord already. So, yeah, I loosened my grip a bit.

Then about a week later they broke up. And I cried again. What? It was my baby's first heartbreak. I know, don't look at me like that. As Steve would say, I'm a Smother Mother.

The Last Laugh

2009-12-21T10:35:00.000-08:00

Steve and I enjoy expressing our disapproval and exasperation over how lame some TV commercials are these days. It's like a favorite pastime for old married folk who fall asleep on the couch by 9:30 on a Friday night. We can't stand those dumbass White Gold commercials. They seriously make me cringe; I usually avert my eyes when those commercials play. And stop already with those Swifter commercials with the stalker mops and brooms. The first one was tolerable I guess, but now it's just embarrassing. And I love Old Navy, but those commercials with the mannequins are so lame. Really? Talking mannequins?

So the other day Steve was waiting in line at Old Navy, behind a lady with a stroller. A man approaches Steve and the lady, and says, "Are you in line?"

They reply yes. Then the man says, totally deadpan, "But they're not real," and points in front of them.

Steve and the lady turn to look, only to see that they've been standing behind a small cluster of Old Navy mannequins the whole time. I like to imagine the mannequins thinking, Who's lame now, suckaaaa?

Touché, Old Navy, touché.

Mmmmm, Whatcha Say?

2009-12-05T16:45:00.000-08:00

So the other day I was busy being at the beck and call of certain bossy little girl, when I randomly got a text from Steve: "Hey...I love you so much."

That made my day, yo. I love getting texts like that, knowing that he's thinking about me. And I'm not an affectionate type of girl, but when he got home later that day, I was feeling a little lovey dovey. Which, for me, means that I didn't push him away when he tried to hug me.

Me: Hey, what made you send me that text earlier?

Him: I was thinking of you.

Me: What made you think of me?

Him: I was listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend.

Me: WHAT?!?!

And then I lunged at him. True story. And while I was tackling him, he tried to explain.

Him: Wait, no! That's not what I meant! I was listening to that song and thinking how I would NEVER cheat on you!

Me: Yeah right.

Him: It's true!

Me: Don't you know it's never a good idea to lead with, "I thought of you while listening to a song about a guy who cheats on his girlfriend"? Cuz you know I'm not gonna hear anything you say after that, fool.

Him: True dat. My bad.

Make Yourself Uncomfortable

2009-12-01T08:26:00.000-08:00

I asked some friends recently, "How comfortable is 'too comfortable' in a relationship?"

So, whenever I'm feeling especially whiny, I've been known to complain that Steve doesn't compliment me enough. But really? I'm not giving him much to work with these days. Half the time I'm walking around with crusty baby food in my hair and on my clothes, and I usually don't even bother wiping it off anymore because five minutes later grubby little hands will be all up on me again. Lily's grubby little hands, that is. Not Steve's. Well, sometimes Steve's too. And that's why I feel like it doesn't matter that my daily uniform at home is PJ's and permanent bed head. That I don't shave my legs unless they're going to make a public appearance. That I probably share way too much info about my bodily fluids and functions with my husband. I've always heard it's good for a wife to maintain a little bit of mystery, make my man believe that I was born with two separate, perfectly shaped eyebrows and that my skin naturally smells like cucumber melon. But the jig is up. Steve has seen it all...and it hasn't scared him away.

I like that I'm comfortable enough around Steve to be myself, warts and all. But I do think there is a such thing as "too comfortable," and I think I crossed that line six years and 25 lbs. ago. I could step up my game a little bit. Close the door when I use the bathroom. Run a brush through my hair. Something. Help him remember that I'm a bad mamma jamma, not just a pajama drama mama.

My Space

2009-11-25T17:00:00.000-08:00

I love checking out other people's work spaces - desks, offices, studios. It's like getting a little peek into their world. Do their desks look like a hurricane blew through, or are they anal retentive like me where there's a place for everything and every thing's in its place? It's interesting to see what little personal mementos they keep nearby. Who is featured in their photo frames? What's their taste in art? What things might they have around that motivate or inspire them? Do they like to keep a vase of fresh flowers on their desk, or motivational quotes hanging on the walls, or a board filled with magazine cut outs.

I think everyone should have stuff in their workspace that inspires and motivates them.

Last weekend I redid my space.

I moved to a little nook off the kitchen since it was they only place left in the house for me. But I like it because I'm next to the huge sliding door that leads to our backyard, so lots of natural light.

My wall o' coffee. I'm obsessed with coffee, if you couldn't already tell from the name of this website. I love collecting coffee art and hanging it around my desk to inspire me in my writing. Like my own private coffee shop.

So, everything in my space is there for a reason.

The basket is the exact shade of my favorite color

I'm not particularly fond of flowers, except when arranged into a little nosegay. I like 'em, but not enough to bother with fresh flowers, hence the fake topiary. Still pretty.

I carry my calendar and notebook with me at all times. I am obsessed with calendars and notebooks. For real.

I like to keep my favorite books on hand for inspiration. The Bible because my faith (however fickle) is important to me. Books about the craft of writing and a few of my favorite novels. Then I have a collection of books about women in fashion since I study fashion like art. But also, I admire these women because of how strong they are and how hard they work at doin' their thang.

And there on the shelf below are more notebooks and calendars. It's a sickness, I tell you.

Here I have two of my favorite rummage sale pieces. I love buying things at rummage sales because you can find pieces at great prices that are rare and have character. The topiary, desk chair, and blue armchair in the pictures above are also all from rummage sales.

On the shelves on the left side of my desk is where I keep all my stationary...yet another obsession of mine. As much as I love email, nothing beats a handwritten note. I also prefer paper calendars over electronic and good old fashioned books over the Kindle. Sometimes it's good not to be plugged in all the damn time.

I'd love to see your work space. Maybe even feature it here. Leave a link in the comments, or email me at si@youmeandfivebucks.com.

Girls Night Out

2009-11-24T17:21:00.000-08:00

A much needed night out with the girls. Starbucks was packed, so we brought our coffee over to the bookstore down the way. The only open spot in the whole place was tucked in the corner, surrounded by people quietly reading and tapping away on their laptops. We tried our best not to be disruptive, but we're pretty sure they probably all hated us as we giggled and took camera phone pictures of each other and pretty much just acted a fool. Good times.

Mixed Messages

2009-11-18T11:22:00.000-08:00

So, I heard good things about Google Voice and decided to sign up. A while back we disconnected our home phone to save money since we only really use our cell phones anyway. But there are times you'd rather not give out your cell number (hello, bill collectors!), so a free Google Voice number can come in handy. It actually has a lot of cool features. Like, Google can try to reach you at different numbers - home, work, cell - while the caller holds. And when Google reaches you, you decide if you want to accept the call or not. If you send the call to voicemail, you can listen to the message as it's being recorded and still have the option of taking the call. But the coolest feature is that it can transcribe your voicemails and email them to you. Steve and I decided to test it out.

This is the message Steve left:

"Hi, leaving a message to test this out. So what you gonna say wiggidy whack, can you spell this out? Huh? Huh? I don't know. We'll see. We'll see if you can transcribe, mutha effa!"

And this is what Google Voice heard:

"Hi, leaving a message to test this out. So what you're gonna say we kitty back east of the house. I don't know, hopefully, so if you get a chance guys. Let it and."

Looks like Google Voice needs an Urban Dictionary.

Does This Bag Make My Butt Look Small?

2009-11-16T23:53:00.000-08:00

So, I got a new Coach bag for my anniversary-slash-birthday present. It's quite ginormous, but I love love love it. I need a bag that can carry all my notebooks and other junk, plus still have room to throw in snacks and diapers for Bugaboo. I don't know how girls carry around those little bags that can barely hold a Blackberry. I tried carrying a small bag once or twice, but I've come to face the fact that I'm turning into one of those little ol' ladies with the big ol' bags filled with every single thing they own, things they need to carry at all times JUST IN CASE. The one thing you leave at home is the one thing you'll end up needing, for real. That's the bag lady motto.

Anyway, everyone knows big bags are great for making you look smaller by comparison.

Fab Five: Birthday Wishes

2009-11-09T16:47:00.000-08:00

Little plans for the big day:

1) Pancakes in bed. I love me some pancakes. Aunt Jemima only. Silver dollar size.

2) Me time. I'm taking myself on a date to see Coco Before Chanel.

3) Daydream and plan. It's kind of a milestone birthday. And though I pride myself on my cynicism and facetiousness, I do partake of high cheese factor activities now and then.

4) Sushi dinner with the hubby and kids.

5) Baskin Robbins ice cream cake. White cake, pralines and cream ice cream.

I made sure Steve got the memo.

Me: Is it lame that I'm telling you exactly what I want on my birthday?

Him: Nope, makes my job easier!

Me: That's what I thought.

Daddy Daycare #2

2009-11-05T15:01:00.000-08:00

Seriously? You couldn't take her other shoe off?

Hint, Hint

2009-11-04T13:39:00.000-08:00

Just what exactly are you getting at, Weight Watchers? That I'd eat BOTH quesadillas if you didn't explicitly instruct me not to?

Yeah, you're right.

Decade

2009-11-03T16:38:00.000-08:00

2 years as BFF's + 6 years as BF/GF + 2 years as hubby and wife = 10 of the happiest years of my life.

That Funny Honey of Mine

2009-11-02T17:14:00.001-08:00

The other day Steve and I were lounging on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. He stopped at some guy movie.

Him: This is such a good movie!

Me: Dude, how many times are you gonna watch this movie?

Him: No, fool, you're getting mixed up with 300. This is Gladiator.

Me: Oh. Still boring.

Him: There's Russell Crowe. He's a good guy. His name is Something-Maximus.

Me: Gluteus Maximus?

Him (in all seriousness): Yeah, I think so.

Me: Hahahaha!

Him: What?

Me: Gluteus maximus means "butt," you fool.

Like a scene straight out of Beavis and Butt-Head Get Married.

Same Ol', Same Ol'

2009-10-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

I set a reminder on my TV for Blues Clues.

For the episode where Steve leaves for college, which I never seen.

Except Lily was asleep.

And my teenage son was like, "Did you just set a reminder for Blues Clues? For yourself?"

What? I needed closure. I never accepted Joe.

And when Steve said goodbye, I got a little teary-eyed.

Yeah, I've been gone a month, but the crazy is pretty much the same 'round here.

Daddy Daycare #1

2009-09-24T21:13:00.000-07:00

For a while we stopped using bibs for Bugaboo. She wasn't getting all that messy, and she would always pull them off anyway. But over the past couple of months she started needing at least three costume changes a day because of her less than ideal eating habits. As in, rubbing food in her eyes, through her hair, in her ears. Pouring drinks down her shirt and into her lap...anywhere but in her mouth. So we bought some bibs that go over her head like a shirt so she can't pull them off. They work really well. When I remember to wash them. And when I forget? I come home to this...

I better not forget to buy diapers or I'm afraid what office supplies Daddy might resort to next.

She Who Shall Not Be Named

2009-09-20T00:13:00.000-07:00

Been quite busy. At the beck and call of a certain someone. Not naming any names or anything. But she's the cute one with the pigtails. (Baby's first pigtails!)