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Wife. Mommy. Lover of cookies.

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RT @HonestToddler: Toddler Tip: She has a bounty of nerves underneath that "last" one. Don't worry :)

Archive: December 2002

Maybe Not That Good

I had a wonderfully fabulous day. I think it’s safe to say that from now at least through New Year’s, I will be one happy girl. You could chalk it up to Christmas spirit, relief over finding a new house, having a wonderful husband, or being surrounded by a great (if dysfunctional) family, but that would only be part of it (a big part, just not the whole she-bang). So why am I so happy, you ask? It’s simple: Allen’s back, and all is right with my world. I should have pictures after tomorrow night. Mom’s even coming over to play! Poor Kev; I think I hear him barricading himself in his office as we speak. Only 24 hours till girls’ night at the Donahue’s!
Still, no matter how fantabulastic my day was, I’m not sure anything could top this. Sometimes, people are pretty cool.
I Don't Need No Stinkin' Presents (But They Do)

You’d Need Drugs, Too

Face it. If your job consisted of potty-training-roulette and other adventures with small children, then you’d probably do just about anything to alleviate the pain at the end of the day. Can you really blame the guy?
Give the Man a Beer!

The Best Stuff Ever Said. Ever.

The following phrases/sentences/words were actually said out loud at work (yes, some of them were uttered by me):

*You don’t even know me and possums.
*Merry Christmas from the red-eyed vermin.
*If the van is a-rockin’, grab the butter and grease me up.
*{{panicked}} I’ve lost my insanity!
*Can she wax my butt mustache? (Thanks, Nick)
*That’s 32′ of sandwich!
*Oh jeez, she’s peeing.
*Beads of smell-goodness.
*One can is not enough for my two foots.
*I’ve never had trouble quitting smoking before! (Props to Jesse, the world’s fastest chain-smoker)
*Dumpster lovin’, had me a blast.
*I had no trouble peeing; I found the sink.
*I wouldn’t touch my own vomit.
*I would not suck on the cross. (This one’s all me)
*Linzer palm (No, you did not read it wrong)
And finally,
*This is not brain science.
Ponder these deepest of thoughts. I hope they brighten up your day and make you giggle as much as I did. If I did not give you credit, it’s only because I was afraid you’d be embarrassed. :blush

The Secret Of Life

Is enjoying the passage of time. So I’ve decided that I’m going to have a really good time between now and Christmas. Sure, I’ll be working every day, trying to pack the house, finishing shopping for my family, and dealing with the mortgage company, but all in all, I have a lot to look forward to. First, work will be fun because we’ll be busy, which will make the days go fast. As far as the packing thing goes, Mom is going to help, so that makes it a little easier. Shopping? No problem. I can pick up everything remaining on my list from my store. Mortage? It’s all about Kevin. Finally, I’m very excited because Allen will be back on Monday, and he never fails to brighten up my day. Forced optimism? Maybe, but it keeps me going.
Mood Elevators Are My Friend

What To Do At 1:00 AM

If you’re like me, you’ll be awake and bored tonight at 1:00 AM. Do yourself a favor and check out the Geminid meteor shower. Look up!
Learn Something Here!

We Did It!

Unbelievable, and yet true. We sold our house today (need I remind you IT WASN’T ON THE MARKET?!?!?). Wow. While part of me is screaming “WooooHooooo!”, I can’t quite seem to stifle the other 80% of my brain that is quitely whispering “Um, excuse me? May I have a Valium, please?”. Whatever. Bottom line: If anyone wants to help us pack up and move (to a house we haven’t bought yet, or even found, for that matter), just give us a call. Except you can only reach me at work, since that’s where I’ll be living for the next two weeks.
Don’t pay any attention to me. This is the only place I have in which to vent my many neuroses (yes, plural. I have several). I will center myself with dreams of a huge kitchen, complete with an island AND a butcher block. Ohmmmmmmm.
I've Got Your Chi Right Here

Only 6 More Days

Till I get a day off. Although my level of bitterness has diminished slightly, it’s still lurking around the edges of my consciousness. Whatever. See, I’m commuting between Apathyland and Bitterville. I can be perfectly calm and collected one minute (read: not caring about anything), and in the very next instant I’m riding the Bullet Train to Bitterville.
But wait, there’s more. We’ve decided to take the offer on our house. I have to go think about this now. Hmmmm.

This Is My Brain On Drugs


How about this for a boy’s name?
That’s right. Macklin (Charles, Edward, maybe Thomas) Donahue. Thoughts?

I’m Tired

And I really can’t face the thought of working for the next 8 straight days. Every once in a while, I become exhausted at the mere thought of getting out of bed in the morning to face yet another day of the same stuff. My poor husband bears the brunt of this quasi-depression, as he takes over the household duties for which I have no energy, not to mention an utter lack of desire, to perform. No cooking dinner, no walking the dogs, just a vacant stare as I decompress at the end of the day. Don’t get me wrong; I love what I do. It’s just that sometimes, I get really tired of being pulled in 80 different directions. I flinch every time I hear the words “Can I talk to you?”. In addition to all of this, we recently invested in a little gadget that continues to tell me that I suck at being a girl, a fact of which I was already acutely aware. My mom said that one day, my body would shut down in protest over the stress, and I’m beginning to fear that fine day is closer than I thougt. I’ve always been good at dealing with whatever life throws at me as long as I’m able to put a finite time limit on it. Ah, Gentle Reader, herein lies the problem. There is no finite time limit to these things. While I’m sure this is all a culmination of all the stress in my life lately, and I know it will all blow over, I still can’t help but fantasize of a long vacation where I turn off the phone and refuse any and all communication (except, of course, the catharsis that is the blog). Thanks for allowing the rant, and perhaps I will be of a cheerier humor on the morrow.
Stop the Insanity

No, Really. We Promise.

We’ll only use these SCUDs defensively. Scout’s Honor. C’mon, you can trust us! We’ve never done anything that would give you cause for paranoia, have we?
Please. So Yemen says they’d never dream of using these for anything other than self-preservation. Before we handed them over, did we ask for clarification of their definintion of “defensively”? Something tells me it would be dangerously close to Bill Clinton’s definition of “sexual relations.” In the words of Jimmy Lerner, “it a’int nuthin’ nice”.
It Ain't Nuthin' Nice!


The 2002 End-of-Year Google Zeitgeist is out, and sadly, The Sopranos ranked a disappointing seventh among queries for TV Shows. Oh well. At least it did better than American Idol. One more thing: What’s up with Eminem being the Top Male? Now go check it out for yourself.
Zeitgeist, Baby!

It’s Christmas! We’re All in Misery

First of all, how much do I love my husband? In order to give him the best Christmas ever, I have driven all over town today in search of the ONE thing he says he wants, but I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist. At least, I was sure it didn’t exist until I finally found it. Store associates all over Fort Worth thought I was crazy. They swore to me that the present for which I was valiantly searching was but a figment of my imagination. I sure fooled them, though. I found it, and now the holiday season can commence.
In other news, we got an offer on our house (which is not on the market. I may have mentioned this before in a similar bitter tirade). Buyer’s market. Uh huh. Right. Be careful what you wish for, and all that. So were basically homeless. We have a contract on our house and no place to live when the deal goes through. Logically, I know everything will be fine, and we’ll end up in a fantastic place, but it’s still a little scary. Oh well. In the words of the great Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll think about it tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Or next week.
Wherever Shall I go?


This is the best story I’ve heard in a while, probably because of the plethora of pithy comments it lends itself to. The next thing you know, Taco Bell will be touting the life-saving nutritional properties of Mild Sauce. A bachelor car, indeed.
Yo Quiero 30 Packets of Ketchup

Extra Sopranos Recap

Whoop-a-Dee-Dee! Well, The Sopranos is done for another season, leaving all of us to ponder imminent events. A couple more predicitions and summations from last night’s episode:
1) Ade turns the Fed.
2) Chrissy takes over the family (okay, that’s stretching, but throw me a bone).
3) Obviously, Tony reunites with Melfi, and things heat up.
All in all, I was a little disappointed with Whitecaps. I really expected the season to end with a bang(no pun intended). While I realize that the powers that be are setting us up for a non-stop finale packed with plot-twists, I can’t help but look forward to the rest of the year’s offerings from HBO. But then again, I guess that was the point.

Sopranos Recap, Or It Kinda Reminds You of the Kennedy Compound, Don’t It?

Wow. The Sopranos did not go out with a Bing. I couldn’t have been more wrong (at least about stuff that happened in this episode). I still stand by my predictions–mostly–with one revision. Carmine doesn’t get whacked; it’s a set-up to whack Tony next year. I’ve said all along that Tony gets his at the end of the series: now we just have to wait and see if I’m right. In the meantime, tune in tomorrow for more predictions and a better summary; I’m tired, and it’s time for me to go to sleep for the night. Also, be sure to check back for a recap of the last season of Six Feet Under (next one due in January).
Will I get Whacked? Ask Again Later




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