« December 2007 | Main | February 2008 »
My top search string this month is "pear shaped milfs." I didn't realize there was a demographic actually seeking bottom heavy women like myself. I hope no one's disappointed by the lack of pictures, but it's for your own good.
Sometimes I just want to let loose with the rant about all the shit that is hitting the fan, just melt down like my namesake did during the Season 1 finale of Sports Night.
Her speech (paraphrased): It's not at the ring cleaner, you idiot, there's no such thing as a ring cleaner! Gordon broke up with me, which is just the latest in a string of humiliating situations this week. But I can handle that- I can handle it! But this, this is just the living end! I have seen enough to know that I.have seen.Enough! I want one good thing to happen, one good thing before the day is over and I will be the judge of what is good. One.Good.Thing, I swear, that is all I am asking for...
y'know, except that instead an engagement that just broke off and me trying to run my TV show after my managing editor has had a stroke and sublimating my need for control into shopping for and attempting to use a very complicate piece of camera equipment that is just blowing up in my face (literally) I have the upcoming conference for which no one seems to be on the same page about communicating the registration and agenda details, and for which I am expected to be the liaison for my group but am not invited to any of the planning meetings, and I have a house that needs cleaning and laundry that needs done and cooking that needs cooking, none of which I seem to be able to summon up the energy to do, and I have psychological evaluations ending for one child (culminating in the reports and the medication/group therapy/individual therapy arrangements needing to be made in a way that violates the time-space continuum, what with the waiting lists of months and month in combination with the need for treatment Right Fucking Now) while the testing process is just starting with the second, and Oh, yeah, I guess I should make appointments for my own self before I either run out of meds and/or get so nervous about the rest of everything that I forget to eat and end up passed out on the floor from malnutrition.
I just want one good thing. That's all I'm asking for.
There is a chance that I am warping my children. I do not set out to warp them, but I am not the most centered and grown-up of people, so there is a decent possibility that my behavior may be unlike that of Susie Homemaker (not to be confused with Susie Sunshine, a woman with whom I could only hope to be compared).
One evening, I had all three children in the car, as The Husband had a work committment that caused him to need to leave the house before I could get home. As we pulled onto our street, the song on the radio was "Couldn't Get it Right" by the Sanford Townsend Band. Although we had parked, I did not shut off the engine and open the door until I had belted out those last few lines about seeing the light or making it through the night or whatever else the rhyming dictionary had provided for Mr. Townsend.
"I think we need a dance party," I informed my offspring. And so commenced a mad dash into the house to find the remote and program the Music Choice channel to the appropriate selection. And by flipping among "80s", "90s" and "Party Favorites" I managed to produce the following string of boogie-tastic sounds, in the following order, with almost all songs in their entirety:
And then I collapsed in a heap on the couch, with The Daughter and The Younger Son next to me, with the Elder Son rolling his eyes at me for my silliness. And then we ate a "finger dinner" (a meal made up of nothing but food eaten without utensils- in this case it was dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, cheese cubes, baby carrots and bread & butter).
Yeah, June Cleaver I am not.
