Real Live Desperate Housewives in IA

My friend recently emailed me about her new Schwan's man, who is apparently smokin' hot. See, this is big news when you're a stay at home mom, seeing as how our interactions with the opposite sex consist of those we have with:

our spouse - while loving, not exactly lust-inspiring on a daily basis

the guy at the meat counter - the innuendos (salami anyone?) are too laughable to be flirty, especially when the kids are whining/screaming/(fill in your favorite verb here).

the home delivery man - not condusive to flirtatious banter (even though I giggle at all "package" one-liners I can think of) since both the dog and the baby try to escape out the door while the preschooler is yelling "I went poopy!" in the background. Plus these visits are sporadic and tend to happen when mommy is looking like death in a puke T-shirt.

So you can see how desperate we are that the thought of ordering ice cream from a hot Schwan's man is even remotely scintilating. Because unlike the regular home-delivery person, a Schwan's man is on a schedule, therefore we can put on jeans instead of our sweats and pretend to be non-repellant. We can put a movie in to give the appearance of calm and having it all together. Then maybe we can offer a flirty smile and for two seconds while we order some more frozen lasagna we can feel *gasp* attractive!? It's pathetic, I know, but it's all we've got.

That old bitch called Karma

"Karma karma karma karma karma Chameleon..." Was anyone else confused by Boy George in the 80s? I could not figure it out - the whole boy/girl thing. I mean, his name was BOY George so he had to be a boy, but then he kind of looked like a girl. Then again, I was a just a kid living in a small, rural town. I couldn't pronounce "androgyny" let alone tell you what it meant.
Anyways, I was thinking about karma last night as I sat in bed coughing, and coughing, and coughing. You see, my husband (who from here on out will be referred to as The Good Doctor, or TGD for short) recently had a cough that lasted for about two weeks. Two looooonnnng, very annoying (I'm not much for sympathy) weeks in which he would not take any medicine or see one of his partners (clinical not sexual, we're not that type of couple). It was constant coughing, even leading up to our annual weekend without kids. He had taken to sleeping in the basement (or just not sleeping) so he was very tired (and looked it, which only made me mad, not very nice of me). I was getting more worried and more desperate. I finally told him that he "HAD to get better because I really NEEDED to have sex!" This doesn't happen very often. TGD will tell you it is an extremely rare occurrance that I'M the one who's feeling a little desperate. And it really wasn't his fault. He could be going on no sleep for 3 days and still be "up for the job." But honestly, all that hacking was so not attractive. Needless to say, I made my point and he came home the next day with some drugs. And we had a very, er, fulfilling weekend away. So here I am, two weeks later, coughing my lungs up. Funny thing about Karma, she'll bite you in the ass every time.

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.