Traveling - How do I loathe thee...Let me count the ways

I just returned from a trip to Philadelphia for a lottery conference, and it has been awhile since I had traveled for work.  Traveling used to be fun like when I would go from Phoenix to Las Vegas on the weekends.  I would see the dancers coming in for the weekend and would hear great stories of what happened in their previous visits.  These girls were always beautiful and usually worked during the week as students, computer programmers, and even attorneys.  They would come to Vegas to dance for 2 nights and make more than they would all week at their day job.  We were friends.  I liked my dancer friends.  Then, I started traveling more and more for work.  There were no dancer friends around.  Just other angry travelers just trying to get to and fro.  Some people don't mind traveling.  Pam says as long as she has her iPod and a glass of Chardonnay, she is good to go.  For me to be comfortable, I need first class, a glass of Cabernet, my iPod, Ambien, a blanket of my own, a pillow of my own, and a really good trash book.  If I were really to take all this, I would look like I was going camping (my idea of camping) for the weekend.  Plus, we all know the ultimate badge of traveling honor is to not check a bag so all this gear would be impossible. 

I've listed some of my "favorite" things about traveling:

• The smell of the pretzel hot dog wafting through the concourse.
• The cheapest red wine on the planet at the airport bar.
• The fact that I know how to pack an entire beauty regimen in a quart size baggie.  Lori would be so proud.  One of her pet peeves in life is not having the right sized baggie.
• The atmosphere coming to Vegas when I'm just trying to get home.  PARTY!!!  Is it fun to get so drunk on the plane that you have to go to bed as soon as you get here?
• Not having Premier Executive status and being in the 18th row.  However, you could pay an additional $15 for a "better" seat.  In Row 16.  In the middle.  Uh, no?
• Hotel rooms where the air conditioning requires continual monitoring.  It's too loud or too cold or not cold enough, etc., so you're up 20 times a night making yourself more comfortable.
• The chatter on the airplane.  I ALWAYS have my headphones in even if they are not operational.  So, if you try to speak to me, I make a big deal about taking them out to say, "What?"  Now, the rudeness should be the first clue that I don't want to chat, yet most people go ahead and start right up.  Can you ever tell me a time when something good came from airplane chat?  My favorite line when men ask me what I do for a living is to say that I'm a private investigator and I'm following a man here to Vegas for his wife.  This usually shuts them up.  I also bet they call home when they land.
• I find the Manager's reception at the Hampton Inn one of the most depressing places on earth.  That's not to say that I'm not attending, but I'm just hoping someone will pass out Xanax because everyone one of us there needs it.  The amount of lonely travelers at those places will make you rethink your life.  Then, after the reception, we will amble over to Applebees to eat at the bar by ourselves.  This is the glamorous side of traveling, my friends.

So, when you hear how your friends are traveling for business and it sounds so chic and exciting, conjure up the smell of the pretzel dog and staying home with a bag of chips doesn't sound so bad afterall.

I told you they were evil

This poor child is going to need therapy some day.

Hoochifying Baby Gravy

I've had this present for Baby Gravy sitting on my kitchen table for 2 weeks.  The plan was to round out the present, get something for Sister, pack it and mail it.  As I said, the present is still sitting here because all that sounded overwhelming.  I saw these on a segment on the Today Show and had to have them.  I thought they were really funny and that Krys would get a kick out of it.  Little did I know, apparently based on public outcry, these things have the ability to turn your child into a Hoochie Baby.  They are called Heelarious, and were designed by two mothers who are now getting rich, and a bunch of crap. 

Before you get all worked up, the heel is collapsible and it is not intended for walking babies.  The size is 0-6 months.  These little shoes, supposed to bring a smile to everyone's face, have brought on complete public outrage.  I've listed some of my favorite comments below:

• One more reason Muslims and others will see American culture as the worst example of promiscuity and sexual obsession on earth. Shame on us!
• The very people who promote these sexually provocative clothes for little girls are shocked when perverts are attracted to their children and somehow surprised when young "ladies" they know end up behaving like adults when they are nine.
• What a ridiculous waste of money! We, as human beings of this generation, have become so gullible and so easily influenced as to how to spend our money that instead of buying things to meet our needs, we are now brain-washed into thinking spending money to create a ridiculous thing like baby heels that people will pay for just to stand out is justified and is just "silly fun". Really people, we need to get a clue! First deep-fried coke in an age of obesity, now baby-heels in an age of over consumption and over-sexualization...what next?
• Hoochifying an infant is as depraved as one can get.

Could everyone just relax?  I've written about it before but do we need to judge everything everyone does and says?  Hey Internet, can't we just have a little "silly fun?"

I'm sorry if I've condemned Baby Gravy to a life of stripping.  Good thing I live in Las Vegas and can give her a place to stay. 

Game Over

It was just me and Pam who took the weight loss challenge.  I lost 4 pounds and Pam lost 6 (Bitch).  Not bad for a week's work.  I'm still trying to keep to the program but haven't been as diligent about my food log.  You know when it gets to be 2 pages long, you have pretty much blown the day.

Still not good after 60 years

In an attempt to analyze the creativity of the parent, Taylor's class has been assigned to construct an Indian Village.  She drew the Aztec's, which was lucky for me because you know there is more information out there about the Aztec's than the Inuits.  So, we have been researching and gathering material to construct the masterpiece.  Now, it is not actually due until the 1st, but I'm leaving town tomorrow for Philadelphia, and we all know that most fathers are not good at these projects.  So, we started hammering it out.  Here is the final copy:

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I know there is no way you can appreciate the amount of time and energy that went into this.  The picture isn't great but do you see the garden on the left with the little corn and pumpkins made of clay?  Need a closer look?

 

We decided to make the pyramid out of Legos.  OMG.  I guess my kids never played with them because I would've know before now that THEY ARE EVIL!  This has got to be the most frustrating thing ever invented.  By the time you get it the shape you want, a row comes loose and the whole thing collapses.  I thought I was going to lose my mind.  Only after using super glue to hold it together did we get it to a stage to spray paint. 

We decided to sacrifice this little guy.  I would've added the inventor of Legos as well if I knew where to find him.  If you have little kids and have not introduced them to Legos, I wouldn't advise it.  In addition to stepping on the little sharp edges in bare feet in the middle of the night, you are just asking for your little person to want to construct a noose to hang themselves. These things have been on the market for almost 60 years frustrating little children everywhere.

I have about $60 in materials, and will be willing to sell it after October 3rd for $75.  Shipping not included.

I'm no June Cleaver

Most of you who know me well know that I am just the teensy, tiniest bit spoiled.  That's not to say that I don't work really hard and pull my weight, but I generally get what I want.  Like all good children, I blame my mother.  I was the last of 5 girls and it's not that I was babied because I was the cutest, or that I was the favorite, because I wasn't even in the top half of favorites.  She was just done.  Sick and tired of telling children for 20 years to make their bed, eat their vegetables, do their homework, etc.  Who the hell could blame her?  By the time I came along the woman was 41 years old and already had grandchildren.  People would ask my dad if we were Catholic.  "No," he would say, "just passionate Baptists."  As I got older, I found out the real truth.  A train would pass by our house around 5 a.m.  He said it was too early to get up and too late to go back to sleep.  Eeewwww.  Blame the train. So, I was left with lazy parenting.  She was done cooking, so I pretty much lived on Rice-A-Roni, hot dogs, and Twinkies.  In the housekeeping arena she did everything for me so she wouldn't have to deal with me.  I never even made my bed.  When she asked me to dust, I would fake an illness and lie down on the couch until the work was done.  I would never let my own slaves children get away with that.  When I got out on my own, I washed my own clothes for the first time.  My roommate came in one day very red-faced screaming DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO CHANGE THE DRYER VENT??  Um, no, I didn't know there was a dryer vent.  Needless to say, I was a huge slob until I had kids and then kept the house clean AND hired a housekeeper.  Maybe just once or twice a month, nothing crazy.  Then, a couple of years ago, a lady came in my life/house and came 3 days a week.  One full-day and two half days.  She cleaned AND did the laundry and ironing.  Before her, my idea of ironing was throwing a wet washcloth in the dryer with the clothes to try to coax out the wrinkles.  Of course, I did what seems inconceivable now, and bitched about her.  She didn't move the furniture when she mopped, and wasn't the best duster.  I would go behind her and clean up little things, but my house was always clean.  Since I've been unemployed consulting, it didn't make sense to keep her on since I'm home and could do it.  OMG.  It is all I do.  My sister says, if you want a clean house, unless no one is living there, it is a constant job.  She's so right.  I'm spending at least 30 hours a week cleaning, doing the laundry and ironing.  When am I supposed to exercise?  I make the slaves children help, but let's face it, if the housekeeper wasn't cutting the mustard, then the children aren't going to do it right.  Let me tell you right now, it is so much easier to go behind someone and spot clean.  WHY WAS I BITCHING????  Also, there is no good floor cleaner.  If you mop, you are just sloshing the dirty water around, so I bought a Hoover Floor Mate.  This thing sounds like an F-15 is in your house.  The kids have banned me using it while they are trying to do their homework.  It still isn't good.  I want something that steam cleans the floor, sucks up the dirt, and leaves it with a nice, fresh scent.  Oh yeah, that would be a housekeeper.

Trump Las Vegas: An Analysis

Sometimes my husband and I will take a night to get away from the house and stay on the strip or at Lake Las Vegas.  You're still close-by in case you have a huge drama involving auditions for You're a Good Man Charlie Brown where your 10-year-old daughter wasn't able to audition for a part because she was in the dressing room and no one came to get her after waiting for 4 hours to audition, but far enough away where you don't feel like you need to do laundry and clean the house.  Mind you, the auditions were at the studio where we spend a huge amount of money every month for classes, and not for Broadway.  No one is going to see this play except for the parents of the students.  However, it is an important life lesson for her to learn.  She ended up getting another part which she didn't want as much but at least still gets to be in the show.  I was actually very proud of her for hanging in there when all she wanted to do was leave.  It would have been so easy to wrap my arms around her and take her home, but I'm trying to let her feel a couple of failures.  A great book, A Nation of Wimps, shows how parents are ruining their children for being too invasive.  I think kids need to have those experiences to know how to cope with loss and failure. The trick is being there with ice cream after it is all over and to listen.  Trust me, she is way over it.  I'm still mad and have had to tie my fingers together when I feel like sending the instructor an email. 

So, after the drama we checked in to Trump Las Vegas which is a new hotel/condo property with no casino.  Trust me, I get my share of casinos so a hotel that doesn't have one is very welcome.  I'm not sure how it translates for business, but I appreciate it.  The rooms weren't cheap but cheaper than they would've been a year ago.  We stayed in a one-bedroom with a full kitchen, which was great because I could wake up and heat up dinner from the night before for breakfast.  The best part was that no one had stayed in this room before.  We didn't even take out the anti-bacterial wipes.  Instead we got to take off the plastic off the ironing board, the remote, etc.

 

Look at this tiny little bottle of Chambord.  Isn't it cute??

 

THE BEST THING EVER - THE MIRROR TV

So, I've done some checking about the mirror TV which I enjoyed more than I can tell you.  How great is it to be able to watch the Chiefs get pounded while you're applying make-up and don't have to worry about splashing the TV?  It is from a company called Electric Mirror, and their website is beautiful but has no information.  I emailed the guy this morning and just got a quote for $6,950 for a 60x40 mirror.  Yikes!  When I win the lottery, this is going on my list of top products to buy.

So, the hotel was good.  The service was good.  We basically just slept there so we didn't have much interaction with the staff.  The room was beautiful although the view was of a big piece of dirt where I think they had planned a second tower.  I'm sure it, as well as everything else in this town, is on hold until the economy recovers.  While it's cheaper and if you like no casino, it is worth checking out.

Game On!

My friend Pam came in this weekend and we went out to dinner with some friends/work associates of hers.  We discussed the pitfalls of dieting and how it just isn't as easy as it used to be.  Back in the day, you could just drink dinner one night and lose 5 pounds and keep it off!  No more, my friend.  So, after several glasses of wine, we decided to have a week long challenge.  Me, Pam, and Debbie are going to stick to a similar routine and see what we can do in a week.  The goal is 1200 calories per day and 30 minutes of exercise.  Any more takers?

Monday Morning Quarterback Syndrome: An Analysis

Fortune magazine ran a cover story in a July issue called, How I'll Fix The Economy, which discusses in detail how each candidate will address the economy and get it moving again.  I'm sorry, but if they both have such great ideas, WHY DO WE NEED TO WAIT UNTIL THEY ARE ELECTED TO IMPLEMENT?  I mean, if one of the candidates stepped up and started to roll out and implement a plan to fix the economy, wouldn't they be assured of victory?  They spend millions of dollars on advertising accusing each other of being Washington insiders.  Of course, they are all Washington insiders.  That is their job.  This is their industry.  THEY ALL WORK IN GOVERNMENT.  It would be weird if a professional bowler ran for President.  He would be justified running the Washington insider campaign, but these guys, not so much.  I have an idea, how about instead of spending all that money telling us things we already know and don't give a crap about, let's take that advertising money and hire some economist and business professionals to hash out their great plans.  Even if one of the candidates doesn't get elected, it would still give them a legacy.  See, it's not that hard to fix things.  The Monday morning quarterback syndrome is alive and well, and I blame reality television.

For me, it started with singing and knowing exactly when a song was pitchy or if it was a wrong song choice.  Then, came the dancing.  Their moves aren't tight enough, their range of motion limited, or they did not have good lines.  I know who is the best, of course I do.  I am often incredulous at the results from the supposed real judges.  I know what designs will work for the mass market and which will go straight to the trash or straight to couture.  I could've picked the next Pussy Cat Doll from the auditions.  Ditto for the new Elle in Legally Blonde: The Musical.  The Olympics catapulted me into an entire new range of sports which gave me a new forum to hone my skills.  Take Gymnastics, for instance.  Thanks to the Olympics, all I need is to figure out the mathematics behind the deductions, and I can be a judge.  You should have seen me from my living room.  A thing of beauty.  I knew exactly what went wrong and why WAY before Bella told me. 

I think many of you feel the same way.  We judge each performance with analysis and criticism that we feel should be heard, either by family, friends, or the water cooler.  It's too bad that TV has created this entire country of experts with no outlet.  Where can our voice be heard?  Because, we know how to do better even if we can't or don't want to do it ourselves.  We are just here to make you better.

My eyes are watering

The diet started today and did not get off to a roaring success. I blame my husband. In an effort to be nice (and since he doesn't read this blog and didn't know that today was the beginning good-by to 15 pounds), he bought my favorite bagels at Panera Bread, the awesome Asiago Cheese. Well, I couldn't be rude so I ate one. I did, however, just put a couple of squirts of fake, spray butter on it instead of smothering it with real butter like I wanted. After I ate it, I decide to look up on the Internet to see how many calories this baby is packing. Are you ready? A whopping 370 calories and 61 grams of carbohydrates, and 630 mg sodium. YIKES AND OOPS. Holy crap. I had just about a fourth of my daily allotment and it didn't include much protein. I suck at this. There is WAY too much math involved with dieting. Now, the old me would have said better just wait until tomorrow to start again and have a cupcake, but I decided to chalk it up to stupidity and keep going. After all, I knew that big ole cheese bagel probably wasn't on the program before I shoved it in my mouth. So, I had a piece of fruit for mid-morning snack, and I was getting ready to make a salad for lunch.

Then, God delivered the best anti-hunger agent known to man. My dishwasher has been broken since Loaf-A-Palooza, which has been really fun. I read not too long ago that a good way to get the family more time together was to wash the dishes together after meals. Well, we've been doing that for a week now, and it's just not that much fun. We would rather sit on our asses and watch TV, thank you very much. By ourselves.

I've had two people out here to look at the dishwasher through the stupid home warranty company and they both get out here, look at it, write up a report, and then go back to the warranty company and say that they don't service this fancy-boy dishwasher because the parts come from Sweden and they can't get them. CAN'T WE DECIDE THAT WHEN THEY CALL AND I TELL THEM IT IS AN ASKO DISHWASHER IN THE FIRST PLACE? So, a man just came out to look at it again as I had my salad fixings all over the island. I opened the door and the smell of the little guy almost knocked me down. I cannot even describe the odor that this man is emitting in my kitchen. It is so bad, that I have a headache and the stench is seeping into other parts of the house. I think this job is even too big for Febreze. In fact, I'm not sure how to get the B.O. out of the house. On top of that, he is a close-talker so he comes very close when he talks and I have to hold my breath. Almost passed out earlier. There is no way on God's green earth that I will be able to eat. This guy needs to bottle this so I can put it under my nose when I want to eat an Asiago Bagel. He seems really nice. I wonder if he could move in for a couple of months and continue not to shower. I'm pretty sure that he would take me up on the latter since it has obviously been quite some time since he last bathed. An added bonus is that I think he actually fixed my damn dishwasher.

For those of you trying desperately to lose a few pounds, I recommend getting yourselves a little, stinky dishwasher repairman.

It was the least he could do

In typically Nick fashion, he has figured out a way to get the job done with as little effort as possible.  He has this baby so dialed in that he doesn't bother actually putting the diaper on so long as the sensor is close.  Ditto on the bottle.  I will say that it was programmed to keep him up most of the night on Saturday.  Tee hee.  Thankfully, my bedroom is on the other side of the house.

We loved this baby so much that we let it go without pants, never gave it a name, and threatened to wrap it in a blanket and put it in the closet when the sensor wouldn't register which meant in would go in uncontrollable screaming.  I guess this confirms that I'm done having children. 

Don't call me Grandma

Today Nick came home with a baby. It's one of those health projects where the baby cries and you try to figure out why, but you get to give it back over the weekend and it doesn't make you go broke and crazy. Back in my day, we used an egg. I will update you as the weekend progresses. Right now, they are watching South Park together. Clearly, not ready for parenthood. We made ours watch The Simpsons.

Scarlett O'Hara dieting tips

Nick is in the 8th grade this year, so they have asked the parents to continue to fund the school in sneaky, devious tactics buy an ad in the yearbook for a mere $375 to congratulate the little sunshines on "graduating" the 8th grade.  Are they kidding?  I would have been really pissed if he didn't graduate the 8th grade.  In fact, I expect him to graduate everything for quite some time.  I guess when he gets his Doctorate, I will feel really proud.  I promise I will take out an ad then congratulating him. So, not only do you have to cough up the money but also have to come up with some clever little poem or "ode" to your special little person.  Now, Nick has become a teenager overnight insisting that he knows EVERYTHING and I'm just an idiot.  So, the only saying I can come up with is:

Nick, you've become a teenager and now I know why some animals eat their young.

Of course, all the cleverness must be accompanied by cute photos of yesteryear.  In looking through the photo albums for pictures, I had unintentionally recorded an interesting fact about myself.  I have chronologically documented the constant ebb and flow of my weight.  It starts with Nick's birth pictures where I was HUGE and then 3 months later where I was still in the "just had a baby" denial of fatness and still huge.  Then, as you turn the pictures, you can see the weight coming off slowly and then back to normal.  Taylor then comes along and starts the process all over again.  It is actually quite frightening.  I then get to a stage where it stays off then I get really skinny which was about the time of my divorce, coinciding with making tons of money, resulting in a whole new wardrobe to make myself feel better.  The only thing that still fits out of that wardrobe are the shoes.  If I were still putting pictures in the album, you would see we are headed up the mountain again.  My friend Lori says the only way to get out of the cycle is to lose the weight for good or make a decision to own your fat.  Love it.  Make it your friend.  I've tried to love my fat.  I've tried to make friends.  It's just that those clothes are so damn cute and I would love to see myself in them again.

So, I'm saying publicly that I'm going to get it off AGAIN.  I say this as I'm eating a cupcake.  Because, you know how it goes.  If I've made the decision to really get serious about losing weight, it gives me a license to eat whatever I want until that day starts.  There are rules for that as well.  See, today is Friday and you can't start a diet on Friday.  You would throw off the entire metaphysical aura of dieting worldwide.  The fact that I didn't start on the first of the month could also be a factor in defeat, but I must take my chances.  You must start on a Monday, which is what I plan to do.  I will record my progress for all to see and hopefully have some accountability.  The ultimate goal is 15 pounds.  Right now, I'm going to make dinner reservations for the next three nights.  Scarlett said it best: After all...tomorrow is another day.

The Gnomes have Knives

So, we went on our awesome trip to the beach.  There is no greater place within a 4.5 hour car ride.  Coronado is June Cleaver land.  Either it is safe or it provides a false sense of security that I'm on board with as well.  The kids rode their bikes, hung out on the beach, swam, and were tired and in bed by 9:30 every night.  No TV, texting, or endless phone calls.  Nick was allowed one call per day for a limited time.  Even prisoners get the same courtesy.

We went with another couple and their kids who rented this huge house really close to the beach.  You could see the ocean from the second floor windows.  The house is owned by a doctor who raised 6 kids in that house and just got the last one off to college and decided he would rent his house.  Quick note: he hasn't moved out of it yet.  Of course, that part was omitted in the rental agreement.  So, all of his crap and his 6 kids worth of crap is still everywhere.  There are clothes in the closets, his garage is full of stuff, he has a junk drawer in the kitchen, his pantry and refrigerator are fully stocked.  We felt like squatters.  It was so bizarre.  You could tell he was new at this because of ALL THE NOTES he left EVERYWHERE to explain how everything worked and all the rules.  Oh, there were a million rules.

   

My personal favorite:

I like it that The Hardwood Floors thank me.  I'm not sure I've ever been thanked by a Hardwood Floor.  I kind of like it.  Maybe someday my Concrete Floor will thank me, like after I've cleaned it or removed syrup stuck on it.  Do you think it giggles when I mop it?

This guy was so anal, I half expected to find this in the garden:

Conversation in the car on the way home

Robert:  That is really sharp looking.

Me:  What?

Robert:  That Audi over there.  That is the big one.

Me:  I really like the Audi.  I would like to look at one next time I'm in  the market.

Taylor:  Are you talking about a bellybutton?