Camera phobia

I was thinking (I do that from time to time) that I would try to put a picture of myself on this blog, since it's well, uh, basically about me (which my sister thinks is slightly narcissistic, but I'm okay with that). The last picture that was taken of me was when I was in the hospital after the birth of my second child. Yeah, if you think I'm posting that you're crazy. I do not look like those women who come out of childbirth looking great, ready to jump back into their size 6 jeans and get home ASAP (I like to affectionately call those gals "crazy bitches."). No, I look like a doped up, puffy marshmallow person wearing sweats, trying not to cry when the nurse informs me it's time to leave. So no, I will not be posting that picture. Which makes me think it's time for me to get my picture taken. Yeesh, even the thought makes me shudder and recoil in horror. Cuz here's the thing, even if I think I look good on that particular day I'll get the picture back and think "Crikey! THAT'S what I look like?! Good grief! Why didn't somebody tell me I have no chin, my forehead is enormous (and I'm obviously parting my hair all wrong), and I look 5 months pregnant in that shirt." I'd rather live in oblivion, unknowing of the exact nature of my looks. Either that or someone needs to teach me how to Photoshop the heck out of all my pictures.

another porntastic post

Sorry for that last boring post. I vowed when I started this blog that I was going to try and not write anything dull OR go on and on about my kids (there's too many of those blogs, and yes, kids are funny, mine not excluded, but I just get so sick and tired of ONLY hearing about what the damn kids said! I don't care!). My only excuse is that it's late, my contacts are sticking to my eyeballs, and my brain is starting to shut down for the night. So here's a topic that's a bit more interesting (to some) - men and porn. Now some women get their back all up at just the mention of porn. Me? I could care less. I mean, it's not like I can be jealous that he's finding those women attractive. Hello?! They are not cute. It's not like Jessica Alba decided to make a career change into porn, so I'm not threatened in that respect. What I don't get is that men watch it together...as in groups. That's just weird, and gross, and a little pervy. But then again I guess that's a fairly accurate description of most men: weird, gross, and a little pervy.

Emily Hegarty

Have you ever googled yourself? It's weird to find out there's people out there with your name. I googled both my married name and my maiden name, and for some reason I thought it was a little more strange that somebody has my maiden name. Maybe that's because it was the name I was born with, my "true" name, if you will. It's the name I grew up with, the name I carried through all those awkward growing up years when I was figuring out who I was and who I wanted to become. And it's not like I have a very common name that one would expect to find many listings of in the phone book, not that it's super unusual either. Still, I was somewhat taken aback that there were people out there with MY name. One of the persons with my name was a girl on a varsity athletic team, listed as a freshman. I feel like I should give her some advice, like she's some younger version of me, and really that's just ridiculous. Still, it's interesting to think about.

I am going insane.

I couldn't find the peanut butter yesterday morning for my daughter's daily pb toast fix. I always put it in the same cupboard, same shelf, easily accessible. I asked G if she knew where it was (she likes to eat it plain sometimes and is known for hiding things under the couch). She said she didn't know. I briefly wondered if Hubby took it to work for some odd reason (needed some morning protein?). That wasn't it either. My house has a tendency to eat things so I finally just chalked it up to the house must have been hungry again. Then this evening I decided to do a little cleaning (cuz I'm crazy like that), looked under the sink for the cleaner when, lo and behold, there's the peanut butter....under the sink....next to the Lysol wipes. And the thing is, I have vague recollections of putting it there when I was talking on the phone. It's also not the first time such a thing has happened. I once opened the fridge and there was a box of cereal in there. I shudder to think of what I will be like in 30 more years.

Computer Illiterate

So I added some videos to the blog - some of my favs from YouTube (sucks me in like a swirling vortex of crap). I don't know why there are four screens and I couldn't figure out how to make them all different. So if you want to check them out (beware: vortex of crap) look at the top screens of each group.

Keyboard 101

What's the deal with no punctuation in emails? Every day (and this will give you a clue as to my level of dorkdom) I check the headlines on AOL to see if there are any interesting articles to read (honestly, this is how I get my news). Then after reading an article ("Swedish study shows correlation between suicide and breast enhancement!"), people can post comments (I am ashamed to admit that I have done so, an offense for which I should bear a scarlet "D" on my shirt for "dumbass"). Anyways, I have noticed a startingly lack of punctuation in these comments, and in other forms of digital communication. Are people too lazy to hit the 'shift' key and capitalize a letter? And that '.' key certainly must be too much of a strain for all those ring fingers. Or could it be that the only people posting comments (besides me) are a bunch of 13 year old hooligans (riff-raff and their crazy shenanigans) who obviously haven't taken Keyboarding class?

The big brown bear jumped over the lazy fox. Or was it the fox that jumped over the bear? Either way I can still type it without looking at my fingers. Can I go play Oregon Trail now?

boob envy

I used to have great breasts. They were perky, full, and actually stuck out farther than my stomach. These days they only way they'll do that is with the super deluxe padded push-up bra from Victoria's Secret that costs a million dollars. I keep telling myself that someday when I'm done having kids (and that day seems really far off right now) I'm going to buy me a nice set of boobs, just like the ones I used to have (okay, maybe bigger).

I wish somebody would have told me to appreciate them while I still had 'em. I would have bought more cleavage baring Ts.