Sunday, November 26, 2006

Growing up is...(a clarification)

...buying your Thanksgiving turkey pre-cooked because you're too much of a wussy to put your hands in the business end of a turkey to pull it's neck and innards out of its a**.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Growing up is...

...buying your Thanksgiving dinner from the grocery store because your mommy isn't around to cook it from scratch for you.

Happy TG All...!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

It Was All A Dream (a Blogette)

I came home from work early today as I was beginning to feel the plague coming on. Er, I mean, possibly the flu.

Anyhizzle, I took some of them there fancy Alka-Seltzer cold tabs in a cup of OJ and nestled in for a couple hours of dreamtime.

I woke up about 30 minutes ago, and one of the main points in my nappie-time dreaming I remember is that my Dad became a DJ. His DJ name:

DJ Bengay



Methinks I've been listening to way, way too much techno.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Before I Get Stoned on 6 Ft. Under...

I just wanted to pimp the perks of donating blood:

1. Why sweat off a pint of sweat on the treadmill when you can bleed a pint of blood while lounging on a plastic coated chaise?

2. When you give blood, you get a high without drugs! Yay for natural highs!

3. All the free Cheetos and juice your crazy heart desires!

4. You can imagine that you're living in the 1800's and you're not donating blood, you're ridding yourself of evil spirits and airborne toxins!

5. Did I mention you lose a pint without having to move a muscle?

6. Engorged self-righteousness. I mean, seriously, I just gave my blood for *no reason at all to some person(s) of which I will never know. It doesn't get much more charitable than that, now does it?

7. In addition to the free Cheetos and juice, I got a free coupon for a pint of ice cream at Baskin-Robins. I would bleed myself 24 hours a day seven days a week for a free pint of ice cream!

8. In addition to imagining #4 above, I can pretend like I'm a dark, thick-eyeliner-wearing sadomasochist that enjoys bleeding just because it hurts. Deep.

9. You get to help someone in need.




*I guess Cheetos and juice is a reason, but whatever.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

My Drug of Choice

For any of you that know me, really know me, you are well aware of the fact that I enjoy shopping for clothes. Hmmm, maybe "enjoy" is an understatement. Let me rephrase that: I enjoy shopping for clothes like an old virgin guy would enjoy a one-night stand with a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Did that get the point across, or just repulse you, the readers? Okay, what I'm trying to get across is that I love shopping for clothes, and then wearing the clothes that I've shopped for.

Here's the thing:

For those of you who have only met me since I've been married, well, the above statement may have come as a shock to you. (I'm referring to the part about me loving to shop, not the part about the lonesome guy enjoying a bang from a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. That's a shock to no one, I'm sure). See, that sad thing is, since my marriage to a money-conscious CPA, I've become what can only be referred to as "consumer-ly retentive". Maybe a more politically correct term would be “shopping-ly challenged”. So now, if I get loose enough to drop some dough, I have to conjure up explanations for my spending that will pass AICPA auditing standards. In addition to frequent shopping audits, I have two more obstacles in the way of me and a pleasurable shopping experience…

Cody and Colton.

From about age two to six, I had four blissful years when Cody and Colton would come along and shop with me. Not only would they shop with me, they would offer fashion advice about what I was trying on. Comments like, “Mom, that makes your butt look lumpy,” or “That’s pretty.” And really, that’s all any woman needs to know when she’s shopping, whether she looks lumpy or pretty. Yes, Cody and Colton were my own little Carson Kressleys. Then one day it all changed.

One day, Cody and Colton decided they hated shopping. Cody and Colton now hate shopping almost as much as I hate those spoiled little bitches on My Super Sweet Sixteen. If I channeled my hate for those children into something productive, there would be no world starvation. Yes, I hate those kids that bad.

Since Cody and Colton have a newfound hate of shopping, anytime I want to go I either have to do it without them, which never happens, or endure ten minutes of Inferno-grade whaling. I say ten minutes because that is the maximum amount of time I can spend in a clothing store with them before they start behaving as if they are ridden with the plague. That’s about enough time for me to find a pair of shoes and put one of them half-way on my foot. But I recently figured out a way to change all of that. I figured out a way to win when it comes to my shopping challenges, here it is:

I enter a store with Cody and Colton (who have just by entering a clothing store already begun the process of mentally melting), find all the clothes I want to try on…and get this—instead of trying on all the clothes, I BUY THEM! Yes, I buy them all without trying them on. Insane, isn't it? Yesterday I bought almost $400.00 worth.

I know what you’re all thinking, you’re all thinking, “But Charise, this shopping madness isn’t going to fly in the face of Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy!” I know that. Here’s the part where it gets good. I take all the clothes home, try them on while Cody and Colton are stewing their brains with video games, and then whatever makes my butt look lumpy—I return! That way, Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy gets mad only for a second when he sees the money go out of the bank account, but shortly after, most of the money comes back home and his blood pressure returns to normal.

I’m a genius, aren’t I? The sales people don’t really like me much anymore though. You should see their faces when I come back the next day to return eight pairs of jeans. When I tell them that I just didn’t like the clothes, they look at me as if I had just told them that I had tainted every article of clothing with the hanta virus and any moment we're all going to die...or something. Doesn’t matter because in then end, I win. I get my clothes, the boys don’t have to suffer burning purgatory, and Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy doesn’t feel so financially reamed.

My only worry now is, what happens when the day comes that I buy a sick amount of clothes, bring them home, and love them all?

What happens then?









What happens then?

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Brain Calisthenics--Bear With Me

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy log. The quick brown fox jogged over the loopy frog. The quick brown box shipped itself some grog. The quick, tasty lox removed itself from God. The blah, blah, blah, blahed over the lazy fox. Whoever said that Southern California doesn't get seasons wasn't walking with me last night. As I was taking the boys home from trick-or-treating I walked past a house that was littered in piles of dried leaves. I kicked them around, forgetting for a moment that I was in California, remembering fall in Utah. The smell of dried leaves was the scent of innocence. A time when the word "busy" or "stress" were only words on fiber commercials that came on in between morning cartoons. The leaves were small pieces of artwork, designed by temperature changes and shorter days. Speaking of, doesn't the day when fall falls back seem to last forever? I felt so rested and refreshed the next morning, but that only lasted a day. It took me only 24 hours to feel busy and stressed again. Normal. I don't like normal. I haven't wanted to write lately because I sit with my face staring at a computer screen all day. Why stare at a screen all day, then come home and stare at a screen even longer? Yes, I know, it's all for the sake of creativity. Well, my creativity is in my brain right now. Stewing, marinating, fermenting. I'm sure eventually something artistic will manifest itself. No guarantees though. The quick brown fox needs to take a shower.