Could she really be mine?
Minime and I were watching “Must Love Dogs” this afternoon, and I, of course, had to swoon over John Cusack. All women of a certain age, from the era of “Say Anything” in particular, are required by law to swoon over John Cusack. Minime looked at me and said, “Ewwww, Mom. He’s olllld.”
Could this child really be mine? Could any offspring of mine reject the moody fabulousness that is John Cusack? ACK!!
(OK, yes, she really is mine because just moments later she told me that Zac Efron of “High School Musical” was too girly to be hot. Good girl.)
Under construction
Haven’t posted to the Kat Box a lot lately since I decided to destroy my house. I decided to tear out the carpet in Minime’s room, which was actually quite soothing to my ragged spirit. And in the same day, I thought I should paint one wall of my bedroom purple.
So there’s only 1/4 of a real floor in Minime’s room at this point. And there’s accidentally purple paint on my bedroom ceiling and plastic all over everything. On the bright side, ummmm, well, I really don’t have a bright side at this point. The house is a disaster, but unlike all the other mayhem in my universe, at least I have control over this particular disaster.
Tales from the sleepover…
As always, my house is slumber party central. It’s not a matter of “if” we’ll have kids running around each weekend; it’s more a matter of “how many.”
This weekend’s guest told me her friend was really sick. Her friend has “ammonia.” God, if that’s contagious I hope it comes with a roll of paper towels and does windows.
The same child also told me that she had a terrible rash after she got a vaccine for “chicken pops.” If chickens start bursting out of her forearms, I’m fleeing immediately, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
I was so right.
The Brangelina Baby Bump was officially revealed over the weekend. I was SO right. High five!
The beauty of it…
…is that those of you who insist on posting mean comments (especially those of you that work and once worked in my office) don’t get that I am the moderator here, so DELETE, off ya go into neverneverland, it’s wasted effort to lay your hate down here. I have the IP that you posted from and know who your ISP is and all that fun stuff, too, so cease and desist, really.
I’m all for you feeling however you want to feel about me. Knock yourself out. Love me, hate me, whatever. The only comment I care to acknowledge is the one about how I’ll turn on a coworker in a nanosecond: I’ve never turned on a coworker, you don’t know the full story and you can believe what you wish. There are always two sides to every tale, and I understand your allegiance absolutely, I understand the side you’re taking. If you think I’m angry at anyone or chock full of vindictiveness, you’re wrong; I’m disappointed in some folks, yes, but angry, nope. In more than one instance, something that was pinned on me had nothing to do with me; I didn’t start it or finish it, but I accepted the blame rather than the fan the flames or be misrepresented further. Again, I understand the side you take–if I were you, I’d probably feel the same; we all choose our sides and that’s fine, but the insult slinging isn’t okay.
If you want to talk to me in real life, let’s do this, but even in real life, I won’t sit through a name-calling session. Facts and feelings can be conveyed without being nasty. I’m not out there calling you names to anyone, anywhere. You tell me your side, I’ll tell you mine, and if we don’t agree, that’s still ok, but I’d like for this to stop. Over lunch or better still at Working Well, let’s just do this and be done with it, clear the air, agree or agree to disagree.