a recipe for love (and disaster)

When I say "I really want a warm chocolate chip cookie right now" the answer I'm looking for is not "Really?? Because I'm still really full from dinner." No, that is not the correct answer. The answer I'm looking for is "You know I've been wanting all day to watch you eat a warm chocolate cookie. Or better yet I spoon-feed you cookie dough while you lay in bed watching the Gilmore Girls in your sweat pants and an old ratty t-shirt. Then you can cry on my shoulder for an hour and tell me how your hips get lumpier with age."

Now that's what I'm looking for. That is what makes a marriage work although possibly creates a gateway for diabetes and emotional eating. But love is kind, blind and certainly does not ask the the other how much they weigh.

Skeen Jr.

Even though we aren't in the market to have children yet (yet = 5 or more years here people. back off) I am already worry about what to name our offspring. With pretty much every choice I make in my life I usually end up regretting it many years later. For instance, why was I still wearing overall shorts in 12th grade? Or how come I thought it was a good idea to stop exercising at the age of 14? Why do I cut my hair so short that my face looks like a swollen gourd that could be sold at a State Fair? You get the idea of my poor choices and now you are probably terrified of what I will name my chidlren as well.

 

So now that I'm getting close to my birthing years (age 30-35) I'm terrified that I will make a mistake when it comes to naming our children. Especially since our last name is so weird, er-- I mean unique. So what do you do when life gives you an awkward last name? You make a list. And apparently lemonade.
 
What not to name our children:
Charlie Skeen (too close to Charlie Sheen)
Peachy Skeen
Imogene Skeen
Paula Dean Skeen
Moe Skeen
Billy Skeen (wayyyy too close to that MJ song.)
Max Skeen
Lil' Bean Skeen (my personal favorite -- I just know our children will grow up to be rap stars)
 
 
Really there are only two names that we know for certain go with our last name:
Kendi
Bryan
 
I prefer "Kendi Skeen the Second" as Bryan prefers "Bryan Jr." Oh! I just felt a future child-egg commit suicide. One down, hudreds of more to go.

The Mathematics of Speeding Tickets

I got pulled over today. I'm not even going to go into the details. All you need to know is that I did not get hauled off to jail despite my lack of current insurance.

 

The officer asked me how long I'd been driving. I thought it was an odd way around of asking for my age but I quickly calculated 25-16=9. "Nine years" I said, feeling very proud of myself for being so quick with my math.

 

"I meant this morning."

 

Just so we are clear, being good at math has little to do with avoiding speeding tickets.

vegbian

I really shouldn't share this on here because as soon as I do, I'm going to get judgemental calls from my family. So family, do me a favor and quit reading. Just go back to pretending that I'm normal and that I didn't play with barbie dolls till I was 14. (Or 15. Age is just a number.)
 
So for months now, I've been thinking about switching teams -- going vegetarian. Actually I thought about this change over a few years, I even experimented with it in college. I sent off for a "So You Want To Be A Vegetarian" packet from PETA but never received it. This really angered me so to spite them, I ate a double hamburger with a chicken patty on the side every day until now.
 
But, everytime I eat meat now I really regret doing so and I'm not sure why. My husband has tried to talk me out of this multiple times but only because he thinks Chick-Fil-A date night is being threatened. But despite all of the haters out there, I really am going to give this thing a try. You must understand I come from a long line of meat eaters. In fact, my jewish name means "clean meat." So this is going to be a hard transition for me. Even yesterday 2 out of 3 of my meals were vegetarian -- until I ate a corn dog. Never underestimate the sexiness of a corn dog. It's temptation brought me down and what was supposed to be day 1 of vegetarian eating turned out to be just another trip to Sonic.
 
There are 2 problems that I currently must conquer before becoming a V.
1. Learn how to deal with a meat-eating husband.
2. Learn how to give up corn dogs and Chick-Fil-A.
 
I'll let you know how it goes. Here's to Day 1. Again.

yes.

working girl

I asked the new girl at work if could turn the AC on yesterday. She said yes. In return I said "Good, because I'm kind of sweaty." Not thank you, not okay, just that I was sweaty.

 

Welcome, new girl.  

dictionary girl

I've had this terrible song lyric stuck in my head for days now. I don't know the song title, just a snippet that plays over and over in my head. "I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful..." Urban poetry, really. So it's been stuck in my head for two days and nothing gets it out. Not listening to Phil Collins, not listening to the Glee soundtrack -- NOTHING. Nothing works. It's basically self torture on repeat. One time this happened to me with the song "Fancy" by Reba McEntire. I finally just had to break down and act out the music video for it to get out of my head. Bryan played the older Fancy and I played the younger version. We rented costumes, hired extras, the whole shebang. It took us days to get the scene where she breaks her necklace off just right.

I'm actually afraid to google the music video for this rap song that's in my head though. I mean how skanky can this girl be if a rapper can't find the right words to describe her? That's got to be the worst insult ever: Your so ___, I've gone speechless. Now get my dictionary girl so I can figure out what you are.

lunchables

Sometimes when I heat up my Lean Cuisines at work for lunch (or breakfast) I leave them in there a little bit longer hoping that they will magically turn into something else. Something more delicious like Chick-fil-a. I mean it's all chemicals any way and if I remember my 10th grade chemistry class then my logic is not that far off. Preservatives + chemicals + microwave cancer rays = Chick-fil-a. Or a really burned frozen dinner.

Yesterday I left it in for 5 minutes. Nothing happened. Next time, I'm leaving it in for 10.

team infection

Day 7 of The Sickness. I'm now starting to suspect that I'm on some weird version of bio-warfare Survivor. Mainly because I've worn my team bandana in multiple ways, like a headband, as a tube top, a flag. Also, I've only been given cheerios and saltines to eat, I haven't showered in days and Bryan's been trying to vote me out of the house. Luckily, I get to vote too so I'm still here.

Bryan's set up another challenge for me to get through today. He said it was just "folding laundry" but I know better.

the sickness

I am sick. My body is rotting on the inside. I smell like a nursing home. When i called the doctor this morning, the receptionist lady on the other end said "sounds like someone's got the flu..."

I got all excited, as I've never had the flu before. I was thinking of all of the sympathy that I would be getting, I might even tell people it's the swine flu. I felt so lucky -- this year's flu virus decided to hosts itself in little old me. What an honor.

Well stupid receptionist lady, I actually have an untreatable virus that the only cure for is narcotics and orange juice. You didn't call that one, did ya? I'm going to need you to go ahead and quit your job, ma'am.

Create, Don't Duplicate

**This is not a funny post. I repeat, this is not a funny post. In fact more than likely it will be awkward for you. But awkward is my speciality.

I don't really know how to go about this because it is not an easy thing to say, so I'm just going to say it. I found the blog of an old friend who I am not acquainted with any longer. This was all good and fine until I started noticing that her words sounded suspiciously like mine. So I started reading through post after post and I was mortified by the blatant copying that this person had done. These were my thoughts that I was reading, my words. I told Bryan about it and he suggested that I do very hateful things to this person. But instead I turned the other cheek and tried to forget about it. Also, we don't own any artillery and this person lives too far away.

So I tried to let this go, passing it off as something small. But it just kept haunting me. Look I know that the Internet is a melting pot of thoughts, ideas and words for anyone to take. There are no internet police hanging around waiting for someone to plagerize. I realize that once I put something out there, into the dark abyss of the unknown, it can be offensive, misunderstood, misconstrued or worse -- stolen. But I take that chance because I like to write and because I like to blog. I do not put it out there for someone to take on as their own. I do not write so that someone else can be esteemed, so that someone else can feel funny or witty. I write because that is what I love to do. I share it because I hope that someone out there likes to read it as much as I like to write. And although internet police do not exist, I would hope that integrity and honesty still do.

As an aspiring writer who hopes to one day find an audience who enjoys reading her works, this is a complete punch in the face. There are reasons for copyrights and patents and trademarks. There are reasons for protecting intellectual property. There is a reason that teachers and professors try teach you to think on your own and not to plagiarize. This is why. It's because of people who can't, steal. I appreciate that you find my words appealing to you, but please find your own voice. Everyone has a unique point of view, everyone has something that they need to say -- so say it. Be your own person.

All of this to say that I do not think that I am the best thing since sliced bread and that this is probably an isolated case. But I just wanted to say to the person who has hurt me by stealing something so very precious to me to please stop. I encourage you to find your own thoughts and words. If you can't think of your own words to write, please don't steal mine. In the end I'm a writer, not a fighter. But plagerism is the death of creativity and is not appreciated.

Always create, never duplicate.

goodnight moon, goodnight chores

I just said goodnight to our dishes. They've been in the sink for a few days so I feel like they are just a part of the family now. Plus the plate that held last week's pasta dish now looks like it has a little smile. Isn't that just precious?

Goodnight laundry pile, goodnight muddy floors...