Category Archives: Me

Me — In Numbers

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Stealing Borrowing an idea from Omar today … he won’t mind and he’s probably not reading this post anyway.

So here is what I have been up to since last Wednesday “by the numbers:”

6 – NCAA basketball games I watched (53 – Number of brackets I need to “grade” tonight for the pool I am participating in)

5 – Bottles of champagne consumed on Sunday for Jéanne’s birthday (I had help!)

4 – Massages I’ve had since last Thursday (I canceled a membership at Massage Envy and was forced to use the stockpile … poor me.)

3 – Trips to Target (and subsequently, to Starbucks … so much for quitting that habit)

2 – Birthday parties attended (One at Jumpin‘ Jungle, but that didn’t include champagne. Unfortunately.)

1 – Number of amazing things Scarlett did at breakfast on Sunday (She was playing with a fork … banging it on the table mainly … then she starts stabbing eggs and eating off of it like she had been doing it for years.) Pictures? Of course!

— The B.S. Cafe is now serving the certainty that Scarlett is, in fact, a gifted child. Stabbing with the fork AND “enrolling.” Go ahead and look that up. I had to.

Happy Birthday, KB!

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My good friend KB turned the big 4-0 last week and we celebrated last night with lots of cocktails, dancing and general tomfoolery. I really don’t go “out out” very often (because dealing with two toddlers while nursing a hangover is like going to a rock concert with a migraine), but after a few glasses of wine and two double Grey Goose and cranberries, 25-year-old Rhonda showed up … dancing and ordering shots.

And I almost pulled off the whole “38 is the new 25 thing”, but here is how I know that a.) I cannot party like a 20 year old, and b.) I was way over served last night.

  1. I convinced my husband to stop at Jack in the Box at 1:30 a.m. where I proceeded to order a very large hamburger and an egg roll.
  2. My bar tab – $160
  3. First thought this morning … “I hope no one publishes any of those photos to Facebook/Blogger/MySpace” (And immediately sent text messages to every one with a camera).
  4. Drove to Sonic at 9:00 a.m. to order a Coke for breakfast
  5. Took my first shot of Jagermeister in well over 15 years
  6. The faint memory of dancing to the Flo Rida song “Low,” and slapping my own ass in a public place.

— The B.S. Cafe is now serving shots of “Act your age.”

Second-annual mommy’s retreat/great escape

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Halle and I have managed to pull off another great escape to Lake Austin Spa. In fact, I just returned to my room after an 80-minute massage. Ah. Two more days of eating, boozing, spa-ing and relaxing.

Check out their website if you want to get properly envious.

www.lakeaustinspa.com

— The B.S Cafe is now serving foot rubs and large glasses of Pinot Grigio.

Taking a Chill Pill

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Sorry I haven’t been around much, but I have been taking it easy. I don’t think I have ever shared here that I have Crohn’s disease (mainly because it has been in remission and quite frankly, it’s a bit of a downer), but I do … and it’s back with a vengeance.

So, I’ve been relaxing as much as possible, which means everything else has been sidelined over the past week. But the good news is I am feeling better every day and apparently potato soup is a miracle cure for intestinal disorders. Just so you know.

I have also been taken off of “hate mail” duty at work and that helped my angry gut almost immediately. But here is what I learned from answering nasty emails for almost two weeks.
  1. Excessive use of exclamation points (e.g. I am so angry!!!!!!) or question marks (e.g. What is wrong with you people??????????) means you are very, VERY pissed.
  2. Some people don’t understand how to use rhetorical questions properly. (e.g. Don’t you think I would like a spa vacation??? I demand an answer!)
  3. Making threats is okay, just make sure suspicion won’t fall on you by using a clause like “Not that I would do that,” “I don’t think it’s right, but…” or “I’m not saying I want this to happen, but…”
  4. If a person closes a letter by saying “I’m not crazy, I just want to know,” they are crazy.

Weekend Disturbia

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It was a wonderful weekend…lots of QT with the girls, a 90-minute massage, and tailgating with the hubby at the Texans game. It was perfect, except for two of the most disturbing incidents in my recent life.

Saturday morning, we wake up to Scarlett making silly sounds through the baby monitor.

Hubby: Good morning. I had a really nice dream about you last night.

Me: Really? Well I dreamed that I was having sex with Donald Trump. (I have no filter first thing in the morning.)

Hubby: WHY?

Me: I don’t know! But if it makes you feel any better, he had a really small penis.

Hubby: I could have guessed that.

Of course I spent the rest of the day trying to decipher my dream. I’m sure it goes without saying that I do not find him attractive. I hadn’t been talking about him or seen him on TV recently. So WTF?

Fast-forward to Sunday.

It was a gorgeous day…sunny, cool and slightly windy. We are out in the parking lot at Reliant Stadium tailgating before the game, and suddenly I have to go…like NOW. So I did what I never do…I used the port-o-potty.

I was taking care of my business when I felt something splash back UP onto my butt cheek. AHHHHH! NO! Not blue poo water on my butt cheek!! I had come armed with hand sanitizer and paper towels, but no amount of sanitizer on my cheek made it feel clean. In fact, I have never left more dirty. Ugh.

It was all I could think about for the next 3 hours. The hubby tried to calm me down, but all I could think about was that spot on my butt cheek and God only knows WHO’S poo water on it.

As soon as we got home, I stripped off my clothes and washed them in boiling hot water. Then I went straight to the shower where I washed that spot for about half an hour.

I can still feel the poo water on that cheek…I’ll never recover.

The Scoop

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I am going to back to work…tomorrow. It’s been three years since I’ve worked full time, and almost eight years since I worked in Corporate America, so I think I might be in for quite a shock.

In addition to my sadness about leaving the girls (and the little company I have built), and not being 100% certain this is the right thing to do, I have also been completely traumatized by shopping for work clothes this past week. You would think getting a whole new “non-mommy” wardrobe would be fun, but I would have enjoyed myself more if I had been dining on glass and sipping antifreeze. But I muddled through and spent all day Friday shopping for shoes, which got my spirits back up.

So, wish me luck. I’m not going to mention the company (unless you can guarantee I will reap fame and wealth like Dooce), but I am very excited about the job (public relations and corporate communications) and it seems like a great place to work.

Here’s hoping I can drag my a** out of bed on time, and that I don’t go road-ragetastic on someone first thing in the morning!

End of a Hair-a

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It’s been many years since I have done more than trim my hair. I decided when I got pregnant with Scarlett that I would grow it as long as possible and then cut it for Locks of Love. Well, Scarlett turned seven months old last week, and my hair was still going strong. So I made an appointment. No big deal, right?

Not exactly. As I got closer and closer to the salon, I started having a panic attack…frantically calling my closest friends for the mental shove I needed. Of course I couldn’t get anyone on the phone, so I sat in the parking lot, not sure I could even go in. (I had no idea I was so attached to my hair! No pun intended.) After several arguments with myself, I finally got a grip and realized the whole point was to help a child who has lost ALL of his or her hair and there I was freaking out about just cutting mine. So I sucked it up, put on my big girl panties, and went inside.

Rhonda before:


One pair of scissors, one cocktail, and 15 minutes later…Rhonda after:

So a 12″ ponytail will be on it’s way to Locks of Love on Monday. If you want to know more about it, visit www.locksoflove.org.

And big kudos to my friend Nam who did the exact same thing last week. She was even excited about her new, sassy haircut, so she gets an extra thumbs up for not being a big cry baby.

How I know I am getting old

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  1. I told someone who is 30 that he is a “baby.”
  2. I scolded some teenagers for running in the hall and bumping into my 2-year-old daughter at school. (Although I did say it in a very young, hip way…”Hey Dudes, take it down a notch!)
  3. I chased some elementary school kids down the street after they threw pine cones at my car. When I caught up to them, I threatened to call their parents and the police. (WTF, me?! Don’t be crazy parent-calling lady!!!!)
  4. Some teenagers asked me how old they looked, and the one who I guessed to be the oldest was EXCITED. And I couldn’t remember when I was last excited to look older. And I told them not to try to grow up so fast. (Wha??? Only old people say that!)
  5. I found two pair of shoes I liked in a particular style I wanted…and I bought the pair that was more COMFORTABLE, instead of the ultra-cute pair!

Defensive Driving, the White Sox, and a MEME

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It’s been a pretty uneventful few days here at the B.S. Cafe. I was taking defensive driving online, which was a real barrel of monkeys. It was actually much better than going to one of those classes, and I learned a few things, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Did you know that…

  • You can turn left on a red light onto a one-way street.

  • Alcohol is absorbed into your blood streamed faster when combined with a carbonated beverage.

  • It would take a train going 60 MPH a mile to stop.

I also spent the weekend watching the Astros play the White Sox and I didn’t get to see Scott Podsednik even once…apparently he’s injured, but he could have at last walked across the field in a towel or something! You know, just for the fans. (If you don’t know about my crush on him, go here.)

So after all that non-excitement, I finally got around to seeing what my bloggy friends have been up to and I found out I was tagged for a MEME over at crap-o-rama (Don’t you just love that name?) So here it goes…

Five Reasons Why I Blog

1. It’s fun…and it keeps the creative side of my brain happy.
2. I like being part of the blogging community and “meeting” new people.
3. It’s the diary I always wanted to keep…and it helps me relive my crazy checkered past. (which is fun when life turns predictable.)
4. I started blogging when I was having a small identity crisis (meaning I didn’t have one….I was a mommy and a wife, but not just ME) and it really helped me through it. Blogging saved me from buying a sports car, cutting off all my hair, or getting a cabana boy.
5. I love being able to say “that’s going in my blog!”

I am only tagging others if they want to be tagged, so consider this a suggestion… No Cool Story, Elastic, Compulsive Writer, yerdoingitwrong, and Toni.

Oscar Extravaganza

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Last Sunday was my 5th annual Oscar Extravaganza. I rolled out the red carpet for 12 of my fabulous friends, who came over for food, wine, swag bags, and the opportunity to win the coveted Golden Biatch Award.

I love the Oscars. It’s fun to try to see as many of the movies as possible (although it didn’t help me pick the winners) beforehand, but my favorite part is the acceptance speeches…or, the GOOD acceptance speeches. (Forest Whitaker did a great job, but he was the only standout this year.)

Having Ellen D. as the host was an added bonus. She was so funny! And thank goodness, because otherwise this year’s show was sooooooo long, and kind of boring. Anyway, here’s a few photos, including the GB in her new home (until next year).

The girls walking the red carpet…

Party shots

I know it’s hard to believe, but I made her myself. She got a dress this year, and those are empty wine bottles around her feet. Looks like Bunny found an appropriate place for her…on a throne.