Blog awards? And I thought I just did this for fun. And pain. And you.
January 26, 2008
After getting a kick in the gut, knife in the back, slap to the face yesterday (bitter much?), it was really nice to have someone point me to the fact that I am actually up for a few awards at the Bloggers Choice Awards.
Now, I was more than a little sad to not be in the ranks with Liz at Mom-101 because if I am with her, I have made it, baby. But, sadly, I am not. I tried to campaign to join her, but they top off the number of categories you can be nominated in. Bummer. Honestly, any award that Liz is up for is one I would be honored to be there with her. Though, this particular nomination she writes about is a ridiculous joke. However, you have to love her sense of humor about it. She was nominated for one she deserves, though. (So go. Vote for the one she deserves here.)
To be 100% honest, the best “awards” I get for this blog are the comments, the emails and the friendships. You readers rock.
I have to say after yesterday, it was nice to get a kind email from someone who reads this blog letting me know that there are friends I have met online who are good and kind and caring, unlike some I have met and trusted who put the B in Witch.
So if you feel inclined, go vote. If not, go vote for Mom 101 HERE. That is the nomination that is real.
This is the only time you will see me talk about it or write about. I feel compelled to, though, because someone took the time to nominate me. For that, I am thankful. Again, my readers rock.
** [Edited to explain this one.] This award will be presented to the blogger who demonstrates the best writing ability on his or her blog.
Does this mean best writing about parenting because best parenting part is SO not going to be ME!
(This one makes me feel like I am being voted off the island and am getting farewell tribute. All time? Ever? Uhhh, not so much.)
(And just no to this one.)
Now remember go love on Liz here.
Posted by Jenn @
8:00 pm | |
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MY DVR Judges and Mocks Me
September 10, 2007
Now that the kids are in school and I have a manuscript due like yesterday and work piling up left and right, I decided to sit down and catch up on the programs I recorded with my DVR. (No, it is not a TiVo. I got the one that came with my satellite. And let me tell you this. This thing is snobby and not even a little bit kind in its opinions on what I record.)
As I pull up the menu of hours upon hours of shows, I decide on Big Brother 8. Oh, sure, I watch the live feeds (shut-up!) but there might have been something I missed or at the very least want to see how CBS edits the real deal. Midway through the show my DVR freezes. Then it turns itself off. When it comes back on and reboots (taking at least 5 minutes of my precious stalling time), BB8 has been erased. Not just the one I was watching, but all of them. (I know! I couldn’t believe the horror either.)
Being alone, I had no problem in freaking out on the DVR.
“What’s up with that? Why did you have to go and delete all of those shows? And just BB8? What’s your problem? You think you are too good to hold onto reality TV? Puhleez! You are just a DVR. And that was RUDE! What a poopy head!” (My Lessons in Maturity Classes begin next month.)
I think I angered it in my mild attempt at smack talk.
I scroll through the menu again. What other stored up, brain-rotting television do I have to watch? I decide to settle in and catch up on Army Wives. I liked the first few shows and haven’t watched in weeks. With less than 10 minutes to go in the show, the DVR again freezes, shuts off and then won’t reboot. It just glares at me. After chastising and berating it, it blinked on. Then off. And back on. Only to have erased every Army Wife program I had recorded.
Seriously? This is how it’s going to be played?
I get up and yank out gently remove the “smart card” and do what I do with any card/game/electronic device I own. I blow on it. (It is a proven fact that blowing on it fixes it.)
When I replace the card and the system takes, oh about 10 minutes to recover, I have gone from having 26 hours left of recording time to 70 hours. 26 to 70. You can do the math (I don’t do math after 9pm.) That means, my DVR chose (and yes I choose to believe it was a conscience choice) to delete HOURS that I had recorded of shows that I may or may not want to watch. I mean, I had Ellen on the Plane recorded. I had High School Musical I and II on there. I even had the a few Gilmore Girls on there.
So, what did my snobby, judgmental DVR leave me? Three episodes of Blues Clues (which by the way no one in this house watches anyway), four Suite Life of Zach and Cody episodes, and over a months worth or Days of Our Lives. (Oh, and about 18 different shows from the Discovery channel which will probably still be there after my DVR accidentally gets tossed into the street to be plowed down by the next speeding SUV or Mini-van to travel through this part of Stepford. Assuming something so tragic as that were to happen.)
Apparently, my DVR does not like reality TV, talk shows or Lifetime movies and/or series. It does however like shows for preschoolers, educational programming and SOAP OPERAS. (Please, like I can’t just watch one show of Days after a month of missing it and not be totally caught up. Here: DiMira’s bad. Brady’s and Horton’s good. At least one person is in the hospital who might die but probably won’t. Someone is pregnant (and in peril!). And at least one couple is having a misunderstanding that they just might not recover from. And that is without watching even though my DVR really wants me to!)
I glared at it.
It blinked back.
Such as smart ass.
Anyone want to set a girl up with a TiVo? I am betting they are a lot less temperamental and actually allow you to choose your own shows without interfering with your choice of programming. I hate my mocking, self-important DVR.
Posted by Jenn @
10:53 pm | |
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I fought the chair and the chair won
July 2, 2007
While on vacation and the night was clear and beautiful, I decided to take the opportunity to enjoy the incredible stars that seemed to go on forever. The best way to see such an amazing sight was from our upper deck with (of course) a telescope. Gleefully hopping up into the bar/deck chair, I lean forward to look at the beauty of nature.
And fall ass over tea kettle.
Ironically, I didn’t even know I fell until I hit the ground with my knee. (Bless the sturdy workmen who did an excellent job on putting up the railing around the upper deck as it kept me from plummeting to my death below.)
Suddenly I am gasping in pain unable to stand up and seeing stars of a different sort. (Before you even ask, I was stone cold sober, my friends.) My older brother was immediately by my side.
“Can you get up? Are you okay?”
“No! I am so NOT okay. My knee must be broken and bleeding and I am sure that I have a concussion!” (Drama much?)
My brother helped me up and then went on with, “…Want me to throw that frickin’ telescope in the ocean. I will get that bitch to the Bahamas!” (I do so love having a big brother to take care of me. )
My knee in fact was bruised and scraped, but not broken or gushing gallons of blood. It was then that the embarrassment hit. To witness my wonderful act of grace was my nephew, my sister, my brother-in-law, my teen and of course my brother.
My nephew is three and kept chanting: “What happened to my Jennifer? What happened to my Jennifer? What happened to my Jennifer?” I wanted to reply, “That son-of-a-bitch chair and I just had a throw down and it won!” but rather replied, “I just fell down. I am okay.”
My sister just laughed. (In her defense, I would have done the same thing had it been her.)
My brother-in-law pretended not to see it as to not have to commit to laughter or sympathy until he saw whether I was going to cry or laugh.
And my teen?
He sits back in his deck chair having never gotten up in the first place and mockingly says, “Nice move there, Mom. Takes talent to fall out of a chair for no reason what. so. ever.”
There was SO a reason. Apparently, I leaned over to look out of the telescope that was BROKEN and fell right out of the chair. But he did have a point. Not my finest or most graceful moment.
So I laughed. What else is there? Then limped my graceful self downstairs for ice. After putting that in my margarita, I got some for my knee.
And that, my friends, is why they call me Grace.
I thought about showing you a picture, but they are not nearly as dramatic to look at as it is to hear about. And you know, the whole “drama” effect works for me.
Posted by Jenn @
8:33 pm | |
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Guess what I did!
August 16, 2006
Go on! Guess. I started another blog. (Shuddup, Amalah! I can so add one more!) It is not a typical Mommyblog, but it does have Mommyblogishness to it. Go on over and check it out. Please. I mean, begging is not above me, but come on people, as of this moment, I have not had more than one cup of coffee, so if I get down on my knees to beg, I just may fall asleep down there.
Go meet Marama and at my new Mom Gamer blog: Aggroqueen.
Did I mention that you are my favorite reader? Don’t tell anyone else, but really….you are my favorite!
tags: gaming, parenting, world of warcraft
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Posted by Jenn @
7:56 am | |
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The things I will endure for a Slurpee
February 23, 2006
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I spend most of my day hauling children to and from school. I wonder at times if I actually live in my car. Seriously, I could be stranded in my car for days before I started to miss the comforts of home. In fact, if I were to get stranded alone, it would be longer than that. (This is the point I should add pictures, but for the life of me I cannot find the charger for my digital camera so we are all out of luck.) There are days when I have considered not even bothering to get out of the car between drop offs and pick ups. What’s the point? I can become the infamous car blogger. (Note to self: Look into hooking up laptop to steering wheel.)
So yesterday being a Wednesday, I was all over town as always. But with a twist. I had my husband’s car. It just was not right. My radio stations were not programmed. I didn’t have any of my own CDs. And there was not one Diet Coke, one cookie or even a piece of candy to tide me over. The biggest horror is that there was not ONE extra pair of shoes in the trunk. Who lives that way?
So at 9:00pm, much to my dismay I had to once again jump in the Car That Is Not Mine and run to the store. Across the street from the store is a 7-11. Suddenly I realized I MUST HAVE a Slurpee. I haven’t had a Slurpee in probably 20 years, but I really needed one RIGHT THEN. My only dilemma was that in order cross this street, I had to maneuver across 6 lanes of traffic under construction. One lane open. One closed. One open., Median. Open lane. Closed lane. Open lane. Then the Slurpee Haven. Normally, in my second home own car I would whip through that kind of car dodging situation without blinking an eye. But remember, I was in The Car That Was Not Mine. And it is a standard. The last time I owned a standard was about the last time I had a Slurpee. Could I be brave enough to slalom through the barricades and cars in a car that was not as familiar to me as my own?
Must. Have. Slurpee. I ground the car into first. (Hey, I told you it had been a while since owning a standard.) I dodged and ducked and whipped around barrels and flew past cars to safely arrive at the 7-11. I grabbed my money and dashed into the store. Just as the door was closing I hear that horrifying sound. The unmistakable sound of metal smashing metal, glass shattering in wreckage just outside in the parking lot. I couldn’t look. I grabbed the guy standing beside me and begged him to look and make sure my husband’s car was not hit.
“What kind of car is it?” he asked.
“Red. It is red. See if the RED CAR WAS HIT!”
He went outside and returned to reassure me that the red car was in fact fine. However.
“NO! Don’t say however!”
“However, they are locked together about a foot behind you, so you aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
After grabbing my Slurpee (which had lost a lot of its appeal by then), I leaned up against the counter and started talking to the 7-11 counter-boy.
“So, Johnny, does this sort of thing happen often here?”
“Uhhh, my name in not Johnny. Why are you calling me Johnny?”
“You have no name-tag and ‘7-11 counter-dude’ seemed rather odd since we’ll be hanging out for a while.”
“Works for me,” he shrugged. “This usually only happens on weekends when the teenagers are acting like idiots. Those two look like adults acting like idiots.”
Then the guy I grabbed to make sure that it was not The Car That Is Not Mine was not involved offered to take me down the corner and buy me a beer to wait it out.
Sure. I am always into jumping into cars with strangers to go grab a beer while waiting out a couple of cars that look to be copulating.
“That is so nice of you, but Johnny and I here have plans to hang out. I can’t just drop him. It would be rude. You know. Like leaving a party with someone other than the one who brought you. But really, the offer is so appreciated.” (I think Johnny choked back a laugh, but I couldn’t look at him for fear of laughing.
After about 15 minutes of really idle and quite boring chit-chat, I look at Johnny and say, “You know what movie line keeps going through my mind over and over?”
“Let me guess. ‘Of all of the 7-11’s in all of the world, I decide to stop at this one?’ Or a variation of some Casablanca line?”
I stare at him. This kid certainly didn’t look to be someone who would quote Casablanca. Now I felt stupid. “No, ummm…not so much. Actually, I was thinking of the infamous: ‘Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K’ but of course using 7-11 instead.”
Now it was his turn to stare at me. “No. Way. You did NOT just pull out a reference to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Dude. That is so lame!”
“Is not. It is totally appropriate here. Admit it. You’re thinking it now too. HA!”
It was then that we saw the copulating cars separate and move out of my way.
“Well, Johnny, it’s been fun. Stay cool!” And in the lameness of the moment we high-fived.
The moral of the story? Seriously? You think anything that pulls a quote from Bill & Ted has a moral? Not even.
But the Slurpee was kind of good.
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Posted by Jenn @
4:22 pm | |
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Like Scrubs, only not as funny
October 11, 2005
[cue dramatic music]
Like sands through the hour glass…so are the Days of our Lives. (Okay, Days fans, hum it with me. Buh nuhh nuhh nuhh nuuuuuuhhhh nuhhhhhh…)
Oh wait. My bad. This is so much more General Hospital. Yeah. That’s it. Anything hospital themed will work. I wanted to go with Scrubs, but General Hospital is much more dramatic and crisis driven. It just works. (Even if I totally am crushing on Dr. Cox. Not the actor. The doctor and his acidic, razor sharp tongue that lashes people before they see it coming. That means you too, Bambi.)
What the hell am I babble-assing about now? Well, Mom is still in the same stable but critical condition. Apparently, this just doesn’t sit well with Dad. I mean, a man needs some attention now and then. What better way to get it than to be checked into the hospital, too? Yes, you did read that correctely. Now my Dad is also in the hospital. Apparently he went surfing on the Internet for something new that Mom has not had but that he can take full advantage of her specialists and came up with pancreatitis. Gotta give him points for creativity. He is in one hospital and Mom is in another down the street about 5 miles.
So, again I am on my way back to Houston. Again.
Anyone in Houston want to meet for a stiff drink? A scrumptious lunch? I’ll settle for a long nap. *grin*
I will update when I can and blog from there if I can. If you don’t hear from me it is because I have not been able to get access to a computer. Because, really, Internet, I love you bestest and will always come back to you. Even you over there lurking in the corner.
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Posted by Jenn @
9:35 pm | |
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Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
September 27, 2005
Are you still here? Do you remember me? I feel like I have been away from the real world for much longer than a week. Between being in the hospital with Mom and hearing nothing but Rita coverage for DAYS and DAYS ad nauseam, I am devouring every newspaper I have been able to get my hands on. When you are locked in the same place for so long and the only news you hear pertains to a hurricane, the aftermath of a hurricane and the hysteria of the media about a hurricane, you begin to feel like the rest of the world must have stopped with you. It feels like a shock to emerge and see that the rest of the world went on without you. You mean there is life outside of Houston? Outside of the hospital? Who knew! Where do I begin to update you?
I’ll start with Mom. The doctor that called me at home was jumping the gun with calling me. I mean, Mom is not going to hop out of bed and be better, but at that moment she was not dying. Not immediately. Do I think she will heal from this? I certainly hope so. But, she has so many things wrong and so many things going against her. It is heartbreaking to see one thing get better only to have something new pop up. Example: Today, we were thrilled to see that her fever was down. Her fever has been a big source of head-scratching because they cannot find the source of her infection. So, no fever is great. Of course, not to let us get too hopeful, her x-rays showed that her lung had collapsed. See? For every good news medically, we get something new that is a set-back. The emotional roller coaster is harder than I could ever do justice to with mere words. I am a mess. A MESS. I cannot describe the hell it is to get a phone call telling you to come to your mother’s bedside to say goodbye and then be told that “oops, not quite yet”, so you stay so that you can sit with her and try to comfort her when all you want is for her to comfort you. It is an emotional mind-fuck if ever there was one.
She continually asks me to take her home. Oh how I wish I could! I hate leaving her and knowing that she would give anything to be able to go with me. Her tears kill me. There is nothing I can do reassure her or give her what she wants. She wants to talk. She wants to go home. She wants someone to promise her that she will get better. I feel so damn helpless not being able to give her any of those things. It’s not fair. I know. I know. No one said life was fair. But holy crap on a crispy cracker this is outrageously unfair.
But wait, the fun never stops here! In the midst of this we are told that “Sorry ‘bout it, but a Cat-5 hurricane is headed your way. Get the hell out of dodge!” If it was just me, I would have completely ignored the warnings. But, my sister has 2 young children that she wanted to keep safe. So, we did what we felt we should do to protect them. We loaded them up–along with a 3 month old puppy– and hit the road. Along with 2.7 MILLION other Houston area residents. My sister had the van with the air conditioner and the kids and puppy. I had the small car all to myself with no air. I asked her more than once if she wanted to switch cars in order to get a break from the kids. She, however, said that I looked “pretty damn hot back there” and that she was just fine with her own little chaotic van.
It took us 12 hours– TWELVE HOURS– to go just over 50 miles. 12 hours. 50 miles. (For those of you who know Houston, we got from I-10 and Beltway 8 to southern part of Loop 336 in Conroe in those 12 hours. We began to lose all mental control when we hit Hwy 1488 and still knew it would be at least an hour to the next exit.) I suppose it was around the 5th hour that I started to go a bit mental. I called Jenny just so that I could scream at someone who would hardly even bat an eye at my rantings.
But the drive is an entirely different entry that involves flying bras, Pull-ups and flashing busloads of prisoners. You may feel guilty for laughing, but trust me, it was entertaining to hear (not so much to live, though). I will post that one later today. I mean, you know what they say….Always leave them wanting more. Oh, I want to tell you all about the amazing people I met while I was at the hospital in lock-down for 36 hours. Everyone has a story if you will just sit quietly long enough to listen to the people who will share them with you. From a Katrina evacuee to a surgeon to an alcoholic who was there for detoxing, I met many people who touched me deeply just by sharing who they are with me. I would never ask for the situation I was in, but if I had to be there, I am glad I was there with the people I got to know. But again, that is another story. Actually, many stories. But now, now I must sleep. I am still not normal. I still feel like I am a step or two behind the rest of the world. (More so than I usually am.) Will you come back again? I’ll leave the light on and the coffee pot full.
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Posted by Jenn @
2:16 pm | |
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She’s Dead, Jim I mean, Jenn
July 11, 2005
Clint learned this past week that it might be a good idea for him to create a living will. No, nothing tragic happened. At least not to him or someone we know.
You see, last week or so one of my ubercool Mom friends called me to see if I wanted to get together for a playdate. (And by playdate, of course I mean an excuse to get the kids together so that we can share gossip and cocktails by the pool.) Not being one to turn down a “playdate”, I forced the children into their swim suits while gleefully shouting, “Mommy has a playdate! Hurry! Hurry! Mommy has a playdate!”
Have you ever noticed how ladies’ swim suits don’t have pockets? What is a gal to do when she needs to grab her cell phone and has no where to carry it? Well, if you have enough cleavage, you can slip that badboy in the top of your swim suit and rush out the door. (An important thing to note here is that you must remember that you did this. That is like really a very important part of it.)
After great gossip and a cocktail or so, I am happy, relaxed and enjoying the day out. Which is about the time Gabriella insisted she just HAD to have her goggles RIGHT THEN or really bad things would happen. Being the nice (and now happy and relaxed) mom that I am, I leaned over to hand them to her from the side of the pool.
*splash* There went the phone. I mean, I probably could have saved it, but that would have meant I spilled my drink. I mean, come on people, the phone never had a chance under those conditions! I grabbed it up before it was even fully submerged and raced to a table to dry it off. I took it apart and shook out any water that may be in it. I begged it to work.
It took about 24 hours, but she began to work again. (Yes, I called my phone “she.” Problems?) I clapped and giggled and kissed my phone thanking the gods of cell phone technology that I did not kill her. Yet.
Two days later I am doing housework and slip the phone into my pocket. After a couple of hours, I realize I had not heard it ring. (You must understand that is very rare for my phone.) I took her out of my pocket and saw blankness staring back at me. Surely, I must’ve turned her off. I tried to power her back on. Nothing. Nothing at all. No flicker. No flash. No illuminated keys. No sign of life.
Noooooooooooo! I wailed. Come back to me! I decided the battery was just dead and tried to charge her up. Hours later…nothing. When Clint walked in I shoved the phone at him and wailed, “Fix her! Bring her back to me!” It was even beyond his skill.
“I think it might be dead. I mean, really dead.”
“No, she is not, “ I insisted. “She worked. Remember, she fought through the water and was ALIVE! It is just a glitch. She’ll be okay. Right? She’ll be okay. She has to be. All of my phone numbers and pictures and information are stored in her brain. She HAS TO BE OKAY!”
Every few hours or so for the next couple of days I would pick her up and try to turn her on. Nothing. Until late one night while I was working alone in the office I glanced over at her with sadness. I’ll try one more time I thought.
I reached over and tried to power her up. First, the number 5 became illuminated. Then the bottom 2 rows of numbers lit up. And then…then…I hear those beautiful words: “Hello Moto”
“HELLO! HELLO MOTO! Ohhh, MOTO!” I excitedly exclaimed as I watched her message my Word Up greeting.
And then she flickered.
And then she faded.
And then….then she went black. Dark. Nothing.
“MOTO! Noooooooooooooo!! Come back! Come back to me!”
Brandon walked in from the family room where he was watching a movie and asked, “What in the world is going on in here?”
“She was alive. She showed life! She said ‘Hello Moto’ to me. I swear, she was alive.”
Brandon just shook his head and walked away.
Since that night, there has been no sign of life at all. Not one flickering key. No illuminated 5. Silence. Darkness. Emptiness.
Clint continues to tell me to give it up and accept my phone is dead. I tell him it might just need some more time to heal. Maybe she will come back to me.
Brandon tells me it is past time to call the time of death on her. I tell him he is just a cruel quitter.
I refuse! Every so often, I still will try to power her on. Willing her to show me some sign of life. I am not ready to let her go. Not my phone with EVERY PHONE NUMBER I HAVE IN THE WORLD on it.
I’m pretty sure that my refusal to let my phone go and insisting that maybe, just maybe she might actually speak those two words again has frightened Clint to the point where I know he was up late last night with a pen, paper and flashlight hastily scribbling out his own living will to ensure he does not get the Cell Phone Treatment should something happen to him.
Please. Like I would get that excited over him saying “Hello Moto.” I mean, that would just be WEIRD!
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Posted by Jenn @
10:53 am | |
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PSA
April 15, 2005
Today’s Public Service Announcement
If you have a pillow- especially one of those really mushy Moshi ones that has about a billion trillion umpteen million tiny beads in it- that has cleaning instructions that say “Spot Clean Only”, THEY ARE NOT KIDDING. It is not a suggestion or a recommendation. It is a proclamation by God himself telling you not to put the fucking things in the washing machine.
You’re welcome.
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Posted by Jenn @
3:42 pm | |
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