I have mixed feelings about Halloween. A fun night for children to dress up and collect candy from neighbors has turned into an occasion for grown women to dress like slutty, slut, sluts. In addition to cheesy porn-starlet-esque choices like sexy convict and pirate's wench, a gal looking for something a little more fetching to a Roman Polanski type is also available...I mean who, but a child rapist, wouldn't find a schoolgirl sexy or what about Little Red Riding Hood?
Be honest with yourself...why are you dressing like a prostitute? Does it empower you to wear a cheap costume made of synthetics assembled in a third-world or communist country...I'll bet it does, especially if paired with a nice pair of thigh-high pleather boots...YOU GO GIRL. The thing is, I doubt it.
You are sexy...just as you are. If you do decide to dress up...wear something age appropriate, that you'd be comfortable in...no matter who you might run in to. Still not convinced? Imagine a creepy pervert, who may or may not be a sex offender, ogling your goodies.
Happy Halloween!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Duchess Flu
I have been stricken with the latest viral infection, you've heard about it...I don't need to elaborate. Instead, I would like to offer some advice:
*cough, cough* Be well *blowing nose*
- If you aren't feeling well...go to the doctor. Your healthcare provider will determine whether or not your infection is viral, if not you can be treated with antibiotics.
- Get your scripts filled, immediately. Stock up on: soup, tea, tissues and OTC cold medicines (I like ones with a sleep aid) also alert close family and friends that you are under the weather.
- This flu gives you the worst body aches you can imagine plus sore ribs from coughing...if you don't have a heating pad...buy one.
*cough, cough* Be well *blowing nose*
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A Sports Rant (and Rave) of Sorts
I live in a sports house. Meaning: we like sports. Having said that, there o'course are sports that are liked better than others and are therefore followed more enthusiastically than the rest. The husband has replaced basketball with baseball as his secondary sport of choice, because a) Michael Jordan retired b) Michael Jordan retired again c) I bleed for baseball. We both enjoy football as our primary sport of choice. I am a Denver Broncos fan. He is a crazeee pants Dallas Cowboys fan. He loves them, period. A Cowboys victory is his ecstasy; a Cowboys loss is his rock-bottom. He may not admit to these extremes...but, trust me...I'm right...his mom will back me up on this.
I heart baseball. I am from Northern Virginia, before the Expos moved to town under a new moniker (the Nationals), our region supported exclusively, the Baltimore Orioles. Like many others, I grew up cheering for the O's. As a fan of America's pastime and the Birds, I felt a responsibility to recruit my serious boyfriend at the time (now my husband) to the Cracker Jack loving, peanut eating cult. I looked at the schedule and decided the game between my Orioles and the Texas Rangers on August 21, 1993 would be the perfect day to indoctrinate him. You see, Nolan Ryan had announced his retirement at season's end and this was a waning opportunity to see both he and Cal Ripken, Jr go head to head, as Ryan was pitching. The Orioles won the game...in extra innings...we stayed until the very end and the husband was happy to join my cult.
Fast forward a hundred years later (give or take), I still consider myself a devotee of the Birds. Even if Peter Angelos is a giant turd from the planet, Shitstar...who has more money than half of the teams in MLB and a gorgeous ballpark at Camden Yards, yet he doesn't have the passion to invest in a winning team and won't sell the franchise. 1983 was the last time we won the Series. The last year of respectability was 1997, when we went wire-to-wire, only to lose a freakish series to the Indians in the ALCS:
Ahhhhhhh, let's recap....Picture it October 1997:
Anyway, back to reality...where the Orioles are terrible....and it's fall which means Yankees in post season play (ugh) and FOOTBALL!!! My Broncos are FIVE and 0. Josh McDaniels is exactly what Denver needed...as I suspected and tweeted about after Shanahan was (shockingly...to all, but me) fiiired. Shugabetes was traded along with his insulin and tampons to the Bears for Kyle Orton...who I'll admit...I was skeptical about...but even I can't be right all the time and I'm now riding high on the Neck Beard bandwagon. Peter Angelos could learn a few things from Pat Bowlen...like how to act like a human being and how to run a successful sports franchise. Yeah, I hear you...there are like 11 more games to go this season...but the last time my Broncos went FIVE and 0 to start the season, was 1998 and they won the Super Bowl, the very same year that my Orioles began their demise.
I heart baseball. I am from Northern Virginia, before the Expos moved to town under a new moniker (the Nationals), our region supported exclusively, the Baltimore Orioles. Like many others, I grew up cheering for the O's. As a fan of America's pastime and the Birds, I felt a responsibility to recruit my serious boyfriend at the time (now my husband) to the Cracker Jack loving, peanut eating cult. I looked at the schedule and decided the game between my Orioles and the Texas Rangers on August 21, 1993 would be the perfect day to indoctrinate him. You see, Nolan Ryan had announced his retirement at season's end and this was a waning opportunity to see both he and Cal Ripken, Jr go head to head, as Ryan was pitching. The Orioles won the game...in extra innings...we stayed until the very end and the husband was happy to join my cult.
Fast forward a hundred years later (give or take), I still consider myself a devotee of the Birds. Even if Peter Angelos is a giant turd from the planet, Shitstar...who has more money than half of the teams in MLB and a gorgeous ballpark at Camden Yards, yet he doesn't have the passion to invest in a winning team and won't sell the franchise. 1983 was the last time we won the Series. The last year of respectability was 1997, when we went wire-to-wire, only to lose a freakish series to the Indians in the ALCS:
Ahhhhhhh, let's recap....Picture it October 1997:
- Game 1: O's win at home
- Game 2: Grissom's 3-run homer off of Armando Benitez (memba him? Before he was our closer, he was Randy Myer's set up man...he wasn't great at either) Indians win
- Game 3: BOTTOM OF THE 12TH: 1-1 tie, Omar at the plate showing bunt, Grissom on third...ball was clearly fouled off, though - not called 'foul' by home plate umpire, ball gets away from Lenny Webster, Grissom scores, Davey Johnson argues to no avail, Indians win and celebrate obnoxiously
- Game 4: at the Jake a rather bizarre loss for the O's in a close game, that included a wild pitch and a strange play at the plate
- Game 5: O's win in Cleveland! Yay...back in it
- Game 6: back at the Yard in Baltimore, SCORELESS until the top of the 11th when Tony Fernandez homered for the Indians, bottom of the 11th, Brady Anderson (aka the love of my life) hit a two-out single...a pulse...UNTIL...Roberto Alomar was called out on strikes on a suspect (inside) pitch, probably because Alomar spat on an umpire the year before...revenge is a bitch and so is Robbie Alomar, who may or may not have AIDS... Indians advance to the World Series
- After the 97' season GM (and all around baseball genius) Pat Gillick's contract was not renewed and Manager (and all around baseball genius) Davey Johnson resigned because Angelos is quite possibly the worst creature in the Milky Way
- We haven't had a winning season since 1997...that's 12 years for those of you counting.
Anyway, back to reality...where the Orioles are terrible....and it's fall which means Yankees in post season play (ugh) and FOOTBALL!!! My Broncos are FIVE and 0. Josh McDaniels is exactly what Denver needed...as I suspected and tweeted about after Shanahan was (shockingly...to all, but me) fiiired. Shugabetes was traded along with his insulin and tampons to the Bears for Kyle Orton...who I'll admit...I was skeptical about...but even I can't be right all the time and I'm now riding high on the Neck Beard bandwagon. Peter Angelos could learn a few things from Pat Bowlen...like how to act like a human being and how to run a successful sports franchise. Yeah, I hear you...there are like 11 more games to go this season...but the last time my Broncos went FIVE and 0 to start the season, was 1998 and they won the Super Bowl, the very same year that my Orioles began their demise.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Meet Senator Toastie
I got a new super awesome toaster, the Breville 4-Slice Smart Toaster. Okayyy, We got a new toaster. And...by we...o'course I mean...the husband ordered it and I said 'what did you do that for, our other toaster is fine'. Then I used the new toaster and wished it had been my idea...because, the new toaster is amazing...so amazing that I named it...meet Senator Toastie:
The Kennedy of toasters, all that you'd expect plus so much more: large and heavy, helps you create a sandwich, whatever your flavor (Chris Dodd and waitress not included), makes the most perfect toast (Chivas Regal sold separately) and just like the late Senator, if you find yourself drowning he won't save you...but he could possibly electrocute you (okay, Uncle Teddy never electrocuted anyone...well, not that we know of).
You can buy your very own Senator Toastie here
The Kennedy of toasters, all that you'd expect plus so much more: large and heavy, helps you create a sandwich, whatever your flavor (Chris Dodd and waitress not included), makes the most perfect toast (Chivas Regal sold separately) and just like the late Senator, if you find yourself drowning he won't save you...but he could possibly electrocute you (okay, Uncle Teddy never electrocuted anyone...well, not that we know of).
You can buy your very own Senator Toastie here
Friday, October 2, 2009
Another Reason to Hate on Iowa (the state not the football team...that's a whole nother thing)
The seasonal hand-off from summer to fall is my favorite time of year. There is something poetic about the changes in nature that occur introducing September to October. However, in Iowa...it is a brief introduction. By Halloween the trees will be bare, the night time temp will have likely hit freezing and we will all be wondering how long before a measurable snowfall.
Iowa's fall lasts about a month (give or take)...then it basically becomes winter with a few fall like days sporadically intermixed. Unless of course my romantic idea of fall has been replaced with cold, dreary days, followed by even worse nights...say it ain't so!
Pardon me while I vent:
The weatherman has tricked us, all but promising highs in the 50s and even 60s. As if we wouldn't know the difference between a pleasant fall fiftysomething degree day and the fortysomething degree prequel of Old Man Winter's breath blowing upon us. Did I mention I hate winter?
Today the sound of the alarm was paired with a stronger than usual urge to stay in bed, the result of a cold, rainy, infant fall morning. Following a couple of dates with the snooze button, I sat up and searched for my socks that I had removed sometime during the night. I braved the cool air of our older home as I made my way down to the kitchen. After burning my tongue on a scolding hot beverage, I headed back upstairs to start the shower and check in on the morning news. While catching up on the day's headlines, I turned on the shower allowing it to run until the bathroom showed appropriate signs of steam. After showering and getting ready, the highlight of which was the warmth of the hairdryer, I was ready to go and face the elements.
Before going outside, I perused the closet for a coat that offered the appropriate amount of coverage and protection. I choose fashion over function, paired with gloves. I could only find one. I quickly reconsidered, and stepped outside, bare handed. The cool wet air greeted my face as I walked toward the driveway. As I opened my car door, I could feel the cold mist that had settled on my tirelessly, blown-out hair. I got in the car, started the engine, rubbed my hands together as I blew hot air on them, cranked the heat and folded down the mirrored visor to get a look at the damage done. Post assessment, I pulled a hair fastener out of my purse, giving up on the hairdo that I wanted, settling for a ponytail. I flipped the visor back up, placed my foot on the brake pedal and shifted into reverse. Just as I was about to back out of the driveway, I glanced down at the ever-present temperature display on the dashboard, it read 44, reminding me that my weatherman is about as useless as that glove that I couldn't find.
Iowa's fall lasts about a month (give or take)...then it basically becomes winter with a few fall like days sporadically intermixed. Unless of course my romantic idea of fall has been replaced with cold, dreary days, followed by even worse nights...say it ain't so!
Pardon me while I vent:
The weatherman has tricked us, all but promising highs in the 50s and even 60s. As if we wouldn't know the difference between a pleasant fall fiftysomething degree day and the fortysomething degree prequel of Old Man Winter's breath blowing upon us. Did I mention I hate winter?
Today the sound of the alarm was paired with a stronger than usual urge to stay in bed, the result of a cold, rainy, infant fall morning. Following a couple of dates with the snooze button, I sat up and searched for my socks that I had removed sometime during the night. I braved the cool air of our older home as I made my way down to the kitchen. After burning my tongue on a scolding hot beverage, I headed back upstairs to start the shower and check in on the morning news. While catching up on the day's headlines, I turned on the shower allowing it to run until the bathroom showed appropriate signs of steam. After showering and getting ready, the highlight of which was the warmth of the hairdryer, I was ready to go and face the elements.
Before going outside, I perused the closet for a coat that offered the appropriate amount of coverage and protection. I choose fashion over function, paired with gloves. I could only find one. I quickly reconsidered, and stepped outside, bare handed. The cool wet air greeted my face as I walked toward the driveway. As I opened my car door, I could feel the cold mist that had settled on my tirelessly, blown-out hair. I got in the car, started the engine, rubbed my hands together as I blew hot air on them, cranked the heat and folded down the mirrored visor to get a look at the damage done. Post assessment, I pulled a hair fastener out of my purse, giving up on the hairdo that I wanted, settling for a ponytail. I flipped the visor back up, placed my foot on the brake pedal and shifted into reverse. Just as I was about to back out of the driveway, I glanced down at the ever-present temperature display on the dashboard, it read 44, reminding me that my weatherman is about as useless as that glove that I couldn't find.
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