My nail polish is gone from the anxiety of the last half hour of the race.
The Amazing Race is the one reality show I'm not ashamed to say I love.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Amazing Race Goodness! (Jen, don't read this 'til you've caught up!)
Yay Joyce and Uchenna!
My nail polish is gone from the anxiety of the last half hour of the race.
The Amazing Race is the one reality show I'm not ashamed to say I love.
My nail polish is gone from the anxiety of the last half hour of the race.
The Amazing Race is the one reality show I'm not ashamed to say I love.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Mother's Day article I can relate to.
Posted on Sun, May. 08, 2005 in the Philadelphia Inquirer
Assumptions might be wrong about those without children
By Tanya Barrientos
Inquirer Staff Writer
Most Sundays I eat breakfast out. But not today.
This morning I am housebound, like Martha Stewart, because cafes are not kind to the childless on Mother's Day.
I can't tell you how many times I've stood before a sweetly smiling hostess who is just about to hand me a long-stemmed rose, a fluffy orchid, or a free mimosa until she realizes that I am nobody's mom.
Then her smile sags. The rose recedes. The free drink? Forget about it.
On this particular Sunday you have to have parented to buy a poached egg.
People make all sorts of assumptions when you are married without children.
They think something has gone terribly wrong.
They think you are sad.
They think you hate children.
Once, a friend showed me a picture of an adorable baby in a magazine and I joined her in cooing, "He's so cuuuute."
She eyed me incredulously.
"You're just saying that, right?" she asked. "You don't really mean it."
So, for the record, let me state that I am physically fine. I am as happy as a middle-aged woman can be. And, as long as they're not vomiting, bleeding, or having a five-alarm meltdown, I like kids.
I just don't want any.
It's something I've known since I was 8, the same way some people know they'll grow up to be a doctor, or an actress, or a concert pianist.
As a girl I was never charmed by baby dolls, or baby-sitting, or baby clothes. I liked puppies.
As a grown-up, I was a birth coach for a friend, and during the delivery another woman in the room burst into tears the instant the little girl was born.
"Doesn't it make you want one?" she sobbed.
I looked at my friend lying on the hospital bed completely spent. I saw how her lifelong responsibilities had suddenly doubled. I smiled at the tiny person nestled in her arms and honestly answered: "No."
People used to tell me I would change my mind. Even the man I married.
He was reluctant to propose because he was certain he didn't want kids, and he was just as certain I would have a change of heart. We took the plunge, and I waited for the flip. Through my 20s, and 30s. But my biological clock was stuck on snooze.
Don't get me wrong. I admire mothers.
I marvel at the insane hours they keep. I respect their instinctual sense of sacrifice. My own mother is one of the most remarkable women I know.
I have simply never figured out a way to live the sort of life I want while directing the lives of others.
"Well," a young woman told me recently, "I guess it's good that you realized you're selfish."
Ouch.
Of course, she could be right. I don't care for the word selfish, but I'd like to think I'm self-aware.
These days, when people ask, I simply say I never had children. That allows them to make whatever assumptions they want. And I can handle that.
But not before breakfast.
Assumptions might be wrong about those without children
By Tanya Barrientos
Inquirer Staff Writer
Most Sundays I eat breakfast out. But not today.
This morning I am housebound, like Martha Stewart, because cafes are not kind to the childless on Mother's Day.
I can't tell you how many times I've stood before a sweetly smiling hostess who is just about to hand me a long-stemmed rose, a fluffy orchid, or a free mimosa until she realizes that I am nobody's mom.
Then her smile sags. The rose recedes. The free drink? Forget about it.
On this particular Sunday you have to have parented to buy a poached egg.
People make all sorts of assumptions when you are married without children.
They think something has gone terribly wrong.
They think you are sad.
They think you hate children.
Once, a friend showed me a picture of an adorable baby in a magazine and I joined her in cooing, "He's so cuuuute."
She eyed me incredulously.
"You're just saying that, right?" she asked. "You don't really mean it."
So, for the record, let me state that I am physically fine. I am as happy as a middle-aged woman can be. And, as long as they're not vomiting, bleeding, or having a five-alarm meltdown, I like kids.
I just don't want any.
It's something I've known since I was 8, the same way some people know they'll grow up to be a doctor, or an actress, or a concert pianist.
As a girl I was never charmed by baby dolls, or baby-sitting, or baby clothes. I liked puppies.
As a grown-up, I was a birth coach for a friend, and during the delivery another woman in the room burst into tears the instant the little girl was born.
"Doesn't it make you want one?" she sobbed.
I looked at my friend lying on the hospital bed completely spent. I saw how her lifelong responsibilities had suddenly doubled. I smiled at the tiny person nestled in her arms and honestly answered: "No."
People used to tell me I would change my mind. Even the man I married.
He was reluctant to propose because he was certain he didn't want kids, and he was just as certain I would have a change of heart. We took the plunge, and I waited for the flip. Through my 20s, and 30s. But my biological clock was stuck on snooze.
Don't get me wrong. I admire mothers.
I marvel at the insane hours they keep. I respect their instinctual sense of sacrifice. My own mother is one of the most remarkable women I know.
I have simply never figured out a way to live the sort of life I want while directing the lives of others.
"Well," a young woman told me recently, "I guess it's good that you realized you're selfish."
Ouch.
Of course, she could be right. I don't care for the word selfish, but I'd like to think I'm self-aware.
These days, when people ask, I simply say I never had children. That allows them to make whatever assumptions they want. And I can handle that.
But not before breakfast.
The movie I'm really anticipating...
Monday, May 09, 2005
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I am defeated
Yes, my reign as the queen of trivial pursuit has been ended. Last night Jen and I played the millennial edition of the game, and I was soundly beaten. I started out well, with two pies to her none, but inexorably she caught up and surpassed me, gaining the elusive green pie early in the game. Her superior gameboard geography strategy (and, I have to say, a relatively easy multiple choice final question) won the day for her. It was a well-matched and fairly played game, and I applaud her win. Congratulations Jen!
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Subtle (or not) ad humour
How many times can I make fun of the pope? Let me count the ways...
Courtesy of Sally:
Eggs Benedict!
Eggs Benedict!
Monday, April 25, 2005
More hilarity
Okay, don't be drinking pop while you watch this, or you might have an unpleasant experience when you laugh so hard it comes out your nose.
Here is The Best Commercial Ever
p.s. For those of you enamored with the smooth stylings of Max Raabe (I know I am), check out Blue and We Are the Champions.
Here is The Best Commercial Ever
p.s. For those of you enamored with the smooth stylings of Max Raabe (I know I am), check out Blue and We Are the Champions.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Get your Britney fix - German style!
Okay, so I have a weakness for early Britney Spears. But truly, you have never really experienced the sheer wackiness that is "Oops, I Did it Again" until you have heard done as a German Cabaret song.
Here is Max Raabe and the Palast Orchester covering that classic of American pop:
Oops, I Did it Again
Turn up your speakers and enjoy!
Here is Max Raabe and the Palast Orchester covering that classic of American pop:
Oops, I Did it Again
Turn up your speakers and enjoy!
Another pope joke (c'mon, I can't resist)
Sally emailed this to me. I don't know where it come from, but it made me giggle:
Hans Groepje was raised in a Catholic school in The Hague, migrated to the US and, as a young man, aspired to become a priest, but was drafted into the Army during WWII and spent two years co-piloting B17s until his aircraft was shot down in 1943 and he lost his left arm. He was awarded the Silver Star.
Captain Groepje spent the rest of the war as a chaplain, giving spiritual aid to soldiers, both Allied and enemy. After the war, he became a priest, serving as a missionary in Africa, piloting his own plane (in spite of his handicap) to villages across the continent while establishing over 200 schools and churches.
In 1987, Father Groepje was elevated to Bishop while serving in Zimbabwe. Shortly afterward, an explosion in a silver mine caused a cave-in. He personally went down into the mine to administer last rites to those too severely injured to move. Another shaft collapsed, and he was buried for three days, suffering multiple injuries, including the loss of his right eye.
The high silver content in the mines air gave him purpura, a life-long condition characterized by purplish skin blotches.
He was elevated to Cardinal by Pope John Paul in 1992.
Although Cardinal Groepje has devoted his life to the service of God as a scholar, mentor, and holy man, church leaders agree: he will never ascend to the Papacy because of his unfortunate handicaps--
No one wants a one-eyed, one-armed, flying purple Papal leader.
Hans Groepje was raised in a Catholic school in The Hague, migrated to the US and, as a young man, aspired to become a priest, but was drafted into the Army during WWII and spent two years co-piloting B17s until his aircraft was shot down in 1943 and he lost his left arm. He was awarded the Silver Star.
Captain Groepje spent the rest of the war as a chaplain, giving spiritual aid to soldiers, both Allied and enemy. After the war, he became a priest, serving as a missionary in Africa, piloting his own plane (in spite of his handicap) to villages across the continent while establishing over 200 schools and churches.
In 1987, Father Groepje was elevated to Bishop while serving in Zimbabwe. Shortly afterward, an explosion in a silver mine caused a cave-in. He personally went down into the mine to administer last rites to those too severely injured to move. Another shaft collapsed, and he was buried for three days, suffering multiple injuries, including the loss of his right eye.
The high silver content in the mines air gave him purpura, a life-long condition characterized by purplish skin blotches.
He was elevated to Cardinal by Pope John Paul in 1992.
Although Cardinal Groepje has devoted his life to the service of God as a scholar, mentor, and holy man, church leaders agree: he will never ascend to the Papacy because of his unfortunate handicaps--
No one wants a one-eyed, one-armed, flying purple Papal leader.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Sin-binging
From The Onion:
Papal Election Brings End To Worldwide Unsupervised-Catholic Sin Binge
VATICAN CITY—In the interim between Pope John Paul II's death and the election of his replacement, unsupervised Catholics seized the opportunity to sin without fear of reprisal, sources confirmed Tuesday...
Papal Election Brings End To Worldwide Unsupervised-Catholic Sin Binge
VATICAN CITY—In the interim between Pope John Paul II's death and the election of his replacement, unsupervised Catholics seized the opportunity to sin without fear of reprisal, sources confirmed Tuesday...
Captain Passive-Aggressive and his Tractor of Vengeance
...or, as it is more commonly known, Kitchen Stories
Here is a slightly surreal Swedish film about Norwegian time and motion experts who are studying the kitchen habits of single Swedish men. Recipe for hilarity, eh? But wait, it gets better! We have a caravan of campers, imported Norwegian delicacies, pepper, a horse, a lifeguard chair, spyholes, and let's not forget Captain Passive-Aggressive and his tractor of VENGEANCE!
Not a movie I thought I would enjoy, but Liz and I went to see it last year and we are still talking about it and dissolving into fits of giggles whenever cetrain scenes are mentioned. Maybe you have to be in the right mood.
Anyways, go see it. Or rent it. Or buy it. I heartily endorse it, and so does Liz. Plus, the director's name is Bent Hamer - hee!
Here is a slightly surreal Swedish film about Norwegian time and motion experts who are studying the kitchen habits of single Swedish men. Recipe for hilarity, eh? But wait, it gets better! We have a caravan of campers, imported Norwegian delicacies, pepper, a horse, a lifeguard chair, spyholes, and let's not forget Captain Passive-Aggressive and his tractor of VENGEANCE!
Not a movie I thought I would enjoy, but Liz and I went to see it last year and we are still talking about it and dissolving into fits of giggles whenever cetrain scenes are mentioned. Maybe you have to be in the right mood.
Anyways, go see it. Or rent it. Or buy it. I heartily endorse it, and so does Liz. Plus, the director's name is Bent Hamer - hee!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
More bad bad things
In the spirit of the bad baby name site I just posted, let's look at what traditionally comes before procreation:
Welcome to the wonderful world of Ugly Wedding Dresses.
Welcome to the wonderful world of Ugly Wedding Dresses.
Need a laugh?
My friend Jen and I discovered Baby's named a bad,bad thing a while ago. I was on my computer at home reading it, she was on her computer, and we were on the phone with each other. At one point I was laughing so hard I forgot to breathe and started squeaking. Yes, this site is that funny!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
More things on my fridge
I've scanned a few more things that I have pinned up on my fridge. It doesn't seem like too much when I look at it as a whole, but individually I have quite alot of stuff stuck up there. Maybe after this project is done, I shall start weeding stuff off my fridge.
This is a pad of paper with a magnet on the back. I use it to write my grocery list on. Since my list for this week is already in my pocket, you get to see a fresh page (and I get to hide the fact I buy alot of crap). I found this pad at a great store called "Paper on Pine"
These are a couple of magnets I found at a place called Blendo, again on Pine St. They're from an artist called Anne Taintor, and she has a whole bunch of stuff, most of which you can buy online.
Here is a postcard from my favourite dessert place. The lady who made the most amazing chocolate brioche bread pudding moved away (boo!), but they still have excellent desserts, and lovely tea and coffee.
This is a postcard from a French restaurant called the Blue Angel, which used to be right around the corner from where I worked. Sadly it is no more, and the space is now an Italian restaurant called Angelina. But I still have the cute poscard!
Another IKEA postcard. Ah, the powers of chocolate!
And here we have the Queen. This card has been causing double takes for years. Hee!
You too can hang out with the Queen.
Finally (for now) Greyhound's schedule for buses to New York. Just in case I feel like popping up there for a day.
This is a pad of paper with a magnet on the back. I use it to write my grocery list on. Since my list for this week is already in my pocket, you get to see a fresh page (and I get to hide the fact I buy alot of crap). I found this pad at a great store called "Paper on Pine"
These are a couple of magnets I found at a place called Blendo, again on Pine St. They're from an artist called Anne Taintor, and she has a whole bunch of stuff, most of which you can buy online.
Here is a postcard from my favourite dessert place. The lady who made the most amazing chocolate brioche bread pudding moved away (boo!), but they still have excellent desserts, and lovely tea and coffee.
This is a postcard from a French restaurant called the Blue Angel, which used to be right around the corner from where I worked. Sadly it is no more, and the space is now an Italian restaurant called Angelina. But I still have the cute poscard!
Another IKEA postcard. Ah, the powers of chocolate!
And here we have the Queen. This card has been causing double takes for years. Hee!
You too can hang out with the Queen.
Finally (for now) Greyhound's schedule for buses to New York. Just in case I feel like popping up there for a day.
The Classic Dilemma
YahoogleMonday, April 04, 2005
Things hanging on my fridge, part 1
I have a bunch of stuff hanging on my fridge that I've kept because I thought it was funny/pretty/meaningful/useful. In honour of me not having too much to say today, I will begin documenting what is tacked up there. We start with the following:
An Ikea coupon for last summer's sale that I got in the mail. One of the funniest print ad campaigns I've seen. Subtle, yet hilarious!
An Ikea coupon for last summer's sale that I got in the mail. One of the funniest print ad campaigns I've seen. Subtle, yet hilarious!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
