Marathon training. It's hard work, y'all.

This post is dedicated to all the people who have supported me during the training period for my marathon.  I couldn't do it without y'all.

So, the marathon starts in two days.  Here's what I've been doing to train.

1.  Gradually increasing the time that I watch TV. 

2.  Staying up consistently past 10:00 p.m.

3.  Eating a variety of foods consistent with a 'marathon body,' i.e. popcorn, peanuts, ice cream, chocolate, Dagwood sandwiches, Doritos, etc.

4.  Watching the last few episodes of Season 1.  If you remember I learned the importance of this training technique when Season 2 of House of Cards came out and I'd forgotten all of Season 1 so I had to waste time watching Season 1 again and all of the people passed me for Season 2 and I probably came in last for viewing time.  So annoying and totally preventable.

5.  Finding comfortable positions on the couch in order to avoid marathon injury.  (Hubby:  We may need to buy a new couch in the next two days.)

6.  Buying the proper shoes and clothes.  The importance of shoes and clothes during a marathon cannot be discounted.  Here's some quick and super easy advice from a 'professional.'  Choose clothes that are comfortable, loose fitting (see #3) and that are easy to get off (see #7).  Choose shoes that are soft and easy to kick off (see #5).

7.  Practicing peeing in less than five seconds and researching catheters.  (Kidding!)

8.  Finding everything I can on the interwebs about characters so that I can fully understand what I'll be up against.

9.  Buddying up with like-minded friends so that I can have encouragement and solidarity along the way.  (Research shows that this is really important for marathons, y'all.)

10.  Lastly, preparing my family for the test of my endurance the lies ahead.

It's all about the training.  Are you with me?

Breaking Badly

Where did April go?  I slept a few times, drank a beer and it was May.  Now May's almost gone. 

And to make matters worse, I thought I had one more week this month.  This explains a lot.

So, here it is.

1.  My Breaking Bad withdrawal lasted about one week.  I'm over it now.  Thanks for the cards.  What do I have to show for the million hours of my life spent on Netflix?  Just this.  Once I want to end a sentence with, "BITCHES."  Examples: 

• Make your beds, BITCHES.
• Dinner, BITCHES.
• I ain't cookin' tonight, BITCHES.
• Laundry is done, BITCHES.
• Yo, I'm not the maid, BITCHES.

2.  We are almost there and by that I mean my kids have turned into monkeys.  Straight from the Bronx zoo.  Serius.  They are ca-razy town.  Hubby and I lost our minds the other night and made them be respectful and clean up after themselves.  The audacity, right?  Cheesus.  Can I sell them to the circus for the next two weeks?

3.  My secret pal this semester gave me a lot of chocolate.  Here's what I discovered.  Ghiradelli Sea Salt Soiree.  (Is 'soiree' French because it just sounds naughty.  But, it's not.  It's an "evening party or social gathering."  Well.........Sea Salt Evening Party or Social Gathering?  Really, Ghiradelli?)  Today the monkeys were screaming at each other and it was just awful.  I wanted to go all Mommy Dearest on them, so I slipped into the pantry and broke open a package of these lovelies.  I ate about five squares.  Even though the name is fooked up, Get Some, you guys.  You can email me if you are not satisfied and I'll refund the time you took to read this post. 

4.  Forget Wife Swap.  Let's do Sister Wives.  I need help with the laundry.

5.  If there was an Academy Award for Procrastination I'd win it.   

6.  Remember the Do Not Call List and how it was supposed to save us from ourselves?  What the hell?  I think it's working worse than Nancy Reagan's Just Say No.  As far as I know, I am ON THE LIST and yet some gal keeps calling me (at dinner) telling me I won a 10 day cruise for me and my family.  Obviously, she has never met my family.

7.  A few months back I bought a Vitamix.  When you buy a Vitamix the first thing you have to do is refinance your house.  The second thing you have to do is read through the little recipe book and see that basically you can make anything in the Vitamix.  Like if you lose all your teeth you can make ribeye, baked potatoes, rolls, and a salad in the Vitamix.  But, if you still have your teeth, do you really want that?  Anyway.  I was looking for a margarita recipe and one of the kids said, "Look mom.  You could make peanut butter.  Is that what the pioneers did?"  It's an odd moment when you have to explain to your kid that no, the pioneers did not make peanut butter with a Vitamix. 

8.  Do you ever just want to let your kids watch all the shows to teach them a lesson?  For example, wouldn't Breaking Bad work a hell of a lot better than Just Say No?  Really?  I'd be all, "Drugs will ruin your life, guys.  I'm Serious.  Now, get some popcorn and let's watch another episode of Breaking Bad."

9.  We changed our phone service.  Now, you'd think this would be an easy process, right?  Not like rocket science or anything.  Wrong.  It is just like rocket science.  Or really just like this show I heard on Science Friday the other day when they were interviewing a scientist of Quantum Physics and he was talking about passing from different states of matter and was it possible to teleport and did your molecular composition change and could the original theories "we" had about this phenomena be incorrect.............and he was serious.  That's what it's like to change your phone service. 

Hubby handled it all because I can't talk to phone people without wanting to rush out and do meth or at least sell it.  Here's how the conversation went down:

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Ok.  Let me connect you to someone who can help you.

Music from the 80's (that hubby actually liked and was singing along to)

Phone service:  Yes, can I get your number?

Hubby:  xxx-xxx-xxxx

Phone service:  Yes, and what can we help you with?

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Are you moving?

Hubby:  No, I'm actually dissatisfied.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  We don't actually handle people who are dissatisfied.  That's actually a different branch.  Let me connect you to someone who can help you.

Music from the 80's.

Phone service:  Yes, can I get your number?

Hubby:  xxx-xxx-xxxx

Phone service: Yes, and what can we help you with?

Hubby:  I'd like to cancel my phone service.

Phone service:  Oh no.  I'm sorry to hear that.  Are you dissatisfied?

Hubby:  Yes.

Phone service:  Oh no!  What are you dissatisfied with?

Cheesus.

Two weeks later:  We get a bill for everything we were told that day we would no longer have to pay for because of our dissatisfaction.  I Can't Get No Satisfaction, y'all.  Cue the f*cking music.

Don't be a stranger! 

(Because kids think it's creepy.)

You can thank Facebook for guilting me into ignoring you less. (You're welcome.)

There's no theme and you don't have to consider this a real post.

1.  I'm considering a 10K (I'm also considering a 10G, but I blame Breaking Bad).  Not really.  But a great friend (who is short, but could kick your a$$ because she works out with more zeal than Richard Simmons but don't worry she's not kooky or annoying) is trying to convince me that this would somehow be good for me and that I might enjoy it.  Right.  Please comment why this is a worse idea than me staying up till 2:00 watching Breaking Bad when I have to get up at 5:00 and work.

2.  Said friend lent (not the one where you give something up) me a doo-hickey that you attach to your waist (attractively?) and it carries two water bottles.  Why do I need this?  Because it's April (check your calendars) in South Texas and I'm in pre-menopause (whatever that is) so that equals hot and thirsty, y'all.  So, why did this even make the quickie list?  Because it's dorky and more than vaguely reminiscent of the notorious fanny pack.  I know every like "serious" runner does it, but I can't shake the dork factor.  Would I rather die from heat exhaustion?  I'm still thinking about it.

3.  Will you guys still like me if I am the only person in the free world that doesn't care for Breaking Bad?  Here's the thing.  I'm used to House of Cards, Orange is the New Black, and The Killing.  Breaking Bad is s-l-o-w.  Like a turtle.  Now, I've written a small amount about hubby but something you might not know about him is that he's a "multi-tasker."  When we watch Netflix he plays a game on his phone, checks his laptop for emails, shares gourmet popcorn with Bandit, and explains difficult episode material to me.  "How does he do this???" you ask.  Simple answer?  He's a guiness.  Well, I could never do that.  I have a one track mind.  (Insert snicker.)  BUT, with Breaking Bad I can.  Last night while watching I did all my paperwork, emailed two customers, and did some actual work.  And this was well past 10:00 p.m.  The hell???  (I'm giving it two more episodes and then I'm calling it quits.)  No haters, please?

4.  Captcha (Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart) mocks me.  As you know, my eyes are aging at an accelerated rate.  Hubby calls me (affectionately?), "old eyes."  So every time I have to "prove I'm not a robot" I get it wrong.  It's become this battle between Captcha and me.  I imagine him as a real person sitting behind a laptop somewhere commenting under his breath as I type.  "She is a robot."  "What a moron!"  "Really?  She's either blind or she's not human."  Then it's like Captcha takes pity on me kinda (after I get like five of them wrong) and he's all, "Ok, Ms. Dayinthelife.  How about this, 'U R 2 S tpD.'"  At which point I'm like, "THANK YOU!  I can do this!"

5.  This is the funniest thing I've read all month.  In fact, read this gal's blog (but don't stop reading mine).  She is beyond hysterical and pretty much delivers the truth in a highly entertaining package.  I'm going to a baby shower today and I'm considering printing off this post, wrapping it up in fancy paper, and attaching a card that says, "You'll thank me later."  As much as I love this post, it has dashed all of my dreams of ever writing a parenting book.  Because absolutely nothing could compare to this advice.

 

If you are missing something, it might have been under my fridge.

So I've been doing a lot lately (besides watching every single show on Netflix).  Here's a list that will sum it up nicely (or just sum it up) and be easier (and I hope more entertaining) than me trying to explain it all.

1.  Bandit my dog is an awful painter's helper.  He took a fair amount of spackle off the wall in one fell swoop.  He tried to eat the painter's brushes when he was washing them (right after he'd had his first bath in about eight months naturally).  He drank the painter's Big Gulp because he left it on the table.  He ate the painter's tacos because the painter did not learn from his mistake.  And he ate numerous pieces of old (and new) baseboards like they were treats we'd bought just for him.

2.  The painter is still willing to come back to do another job upstairs.

3.  There are still people in the world with "work ethic." (I'm not talking about myself here.  "Duh," you say.)

4.  My kids *might* have careers in stand up.  Or I'm unusually prejudice (most likely the latter and my kids will be living with me for a long time which I probably will not find funny at all). 

5.  The time between spring break and summer can be compared to the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's painful for parents, kids, and teachers alike.  The kids are done learning anything.  So, naturally that's when the state testing occurs.

6.  It is possible to overthink things.  This can result in hours of time spent thinking and not actually doing.  I fall victim to this phenomena a lot and it explains quite a bit about the status of my life.

7.  When you've been married over 20 years another wedding and all the ensuing presents would be helpful and probably less expensive than trying to re-do your house with your own income.  I am considering a huge 25 year anniversary party.  I will not write Please no gifts on the invitations.  In fact, I'm asking Prudie if it would be presumptuous and rude to register.  At Target.

8.  My entire paycheck has gone to Target the past few months.  Wouldn't it be easier for me to just move in there?  I guess I could offer to work a few hours, too?  And promise to wear only red and khaki?

9.  Netflix has ruined regular TV for me.  It happened slowly, but I'm pretty sure now that I can't watch regular TV anymore.  SPOILER ALERT.  I knew something huge was happening on The Good Wife and I still finished Luther on Netflix that night instead.  What's wrong with me?  Then I read in the paper that Will died and I didn't really care unless I can watch it on Netflix.  Again, Will's dead!  What's wrong with me?

10.  The kids have discovered the dog whisperer on Netflix.  I've told you guys before how much I don't really like him?  I mean really.  If my parents watched the dog whisperer I think they'd think he was dropping acid (if my parents know what that is).  But, whatever.  The kids have told me that it's the owners that must be trained (yeah, I suspected a train wreck coming, too).  And that *maybe* Bandit behaves the way he does because of me.  So, basically the dog whisperer has taught my kids that parenting dogs and kids is basically the same.  The parents will invariably be blamed for everything.

10.  When you do home repair, maintenance, and painting it makes you feel good.  It also makes you notice all the things you didn't do.  How many permanent handprints will be on all the doors before we can repaint them all, too? 

11.  Painting also can make you want to clean everything.  Remember about a year ago when I went bat $hit crazy and tried to organize every area of my house?  Well, damn it if it didn't all get dirty and disorganized again.  The hell?  So, now I'm on a cleaning frenzy again.

12.  I don't pay my house cleaner enough.  She hasn't been here in a while because the chaos would probably give her a coronary and it takes everything out of me to clean the house.  Aside from the fact that it's covered in a thin layer of painting dust/grime, I'm just not a good house cleaner. 

13.  I cleaned under the stove for the first time in about 11 years and there was an ecosystem growing under there.  It was horrific, but I did find quite a few lost toys, magnets, kitchen tools, and popcorn from the early 2000's.  No more gourmet popcorn for Bandit.  Turns out he likes years old popcorn that's covered with goo just as much!

14.  This motivated me to clean under the other three movable appliances.  Not one of the five people I live with (or Bandit) noticed or cared that I'd done it.  The hell?  Lesson?  Not doing it again for another 10-20 years. 

15.  After seven years of having three of our four kids taking piano lessons and all practicing on a digital keyboard, we bought a piano.  Now, I've never seen the movie We Bought A Zoo (if it's on Netflix, though, there's a good chance I might see it someday), but I wanted to make a mockumentary for reality TV called We Bought a Piano.  They're *kinda* like children or dogs.  You have to take care of them, they respond to temperature changes, if you treat them right they can provide joy for you your entire life, they need annual tunings (sometimes more if they get sick), they're fragile, and they cost a buttload of money.  I'm hoping this piano does not want to go to college.

16.  I miss you guys a lot.  I've vowed to be better about reading my favorite blogs and I've vowed to post more.  But let's be honest.  This might be my last post for a while or until I get out of rehab.  Last night around 10:30 p.m. hubby and I started doing something we'd been putting off for a while.  We had sex?  No.  We started Breaking Bad.   

Six days (give or take) and I'll be back.  Maybe.

House of Addiction

Step 1:  Admit you have a problem.

Hubby and I tore through season one of The Following on Netflix in record time.  Then we had a brief reprieve in which I think I worked and blogged and then season two of House of Cards came out and I've been on the campaign trail ever since.  It's exhausting.  We have one more episode to go and today I find myself digging out of a TV hole that's a few months thick. 

So, hello!

Remember when I told you I didn't care for Dexter too much and then I kind of changed my mind and then hubby tore through all 107 seasons and it ended and I was mildly sad?  Well, after season two of House of Cards I think I have it all sorted out.

Dexter (and actually The Following) were totally predictable.  We all knew (no spoiler alert - because really even if you haven't finished Dexter admit you know how it will end) that every single episode Dexter would find a way out, right?  He couldn't die because then the show would um....be over?  And what good would he be to his show if he were in jail?  So, it was kind of like a soap opera.  I missed or slept through quite a few scenes in a few episodes, but I was still able to keep up.  And I always knew how it would end. 

Same with The Following.  Once I figured out that Kevin Bacon was not Rob Lowe, I really didn't have much thinking to do.  Sure some people I had grown fond of die (again, admit you knew that would happen), but I'm still waiting for something totally unpredictable to happen.

Enter House of Cards.  I slept through a lot of season one and even told hubby I didn't like it much.  It was too political. 

Me to my former self, "Duh.  And:  You are stupid." 

Well, now I've decided it's really the only politics I care about.  Because of my irresponsibility during season one we had to watch the entire season again before watching season two so that I could refresh my memory and catch up to speed.  At first hubby admonished me but then he admitted he had forgotten entire scenes, too.

To any people under 30 reading my blog, "Old age sucks.  And sometimes it takes a lot of time.  Try to make a lot of money before you are old so that you will need less time to work because everything else (like watching TV) will take more time than it does now."

Here's why I love House of Cards. 

1.  Kevin Spacey.  That's acting.  Or is it?  Because sometimes I think he's just as heartless in real life as he is on TV.  Seriously.  He's on my list of People I Never Want to Meet.
2.  Robin Wright.  I have no short term (or long term) memory, so it took me all of season one to realize she was married to Sean Penn (which - why does he look like he's 110?).  If I cut my hair short in the next few months, I blame her.
3.  HOC is so compelling that I have been paranoid since starting season two/one.  Coupled with The Following and The Good Wife (which we watch on good 'ole regular TV), I'm sure our phones are tapped, my Facebook account is hacked, there are hidden cameras in my house, and the NSA is passing on relevant information about my dog to Homeland Security.
4.  I've finally learned what whip the votes means and I might be able to pass some sort of third grade government test.  Thank you, Netflix, for this edumacation.
5.  Remy Danton.

Easy.  On.  The.  Eyes.  Suit is optional.

6.  Excellent one liners.  There's even a website dedicated to the one-liners.  And it appears this website is sponsored by "Live Life By The Faith of Christ."  I say "appears" because I was scared to click the link (because my laptop is bugged).  Anyway - if The Faith of Christ sponsors the website dedicated to the one liners from HOC that is irony at its finest.
7.  It makes me miss Damages less.  Two shows about people without scruples.  The only difference I can see so far is that Damages had a few characters who were basically good. 

So, there you have it.  I've been busy and I'll be the first to admit - I probably need an intervention..

In the midst of all the TV politics we had a real life election.  I voted but it was kind of anti-climatic.  Many politicians' machines called me asking for my vote.  I hung up on all of them.  I'm waiting for Frank Underwood's office to call because, although I don't agree with Frank's psychotic politics, I can't wait to put this campaign bumper sticker on my car:

(in 2016.)

Here's to TV giving me something to blog about when I'm not watching TV.

So, probably my kids went back to school and wrote their proverbial "What I Did On Christmas Vacation" paper like this:

"Over Christmas vacation I stayed in my room and gamed while my mom sat glued to TV like a meth addict on........meth.  The end."

Forget the polar vortex, I was in my own personal TV vortex. 

And this vortex came right on the heels of the frenzy of Season 3 of The Killing.  It's no wonder I'm exhausted.  I think you all know how I feel about The Killing (if you don't - it could be expressed with the emoticon of a cat roller skating carrying a huge heart) and Joel Kinnaman AKA Stephen Holder.  (And if you don't - I'm marrying him when hubby dies.  ((Shhh.  Don't tell John.))  Meanwhile, I'm a stalker.)

So, how did the TV watching stack up?

First hubby had to finish all freaking seasons of Dexter.  Here's my deal with Dexter.  I don't really like it.  I liked it the first couple of shows and then I quit liking it.  I cannot stand Dexter's sister.  Or the detective that always wears the hat.  Or his girlfriend/wife Maria.  Or the other Rob Loweish/Keven Baconish (more on how interchangeable they are later) detective that slept with Dexter's sister.

I do, however, love Dexter.  I love his clever lines and his personality mirrors my own (except for the serial killer part).  So what's not to love?

Why do I watch if that's all I like?  Partly because it's like a train wreck for me and partly because hubby is addicted (although he'll deny it).  Season 4 is out and so we had to watch all of Seasons 2 and 3.  Must.  Keep.  Watching.

Downton Abbey.  I made a noble attempt (which reminded me of someone trying to save themselves from the Titanic) to watch Seasons 2 and 3 between December 26 and this past Sunday when the new season came out on PBS.  I didn't make it.

But, I couldn't keep myself from listening to David Bianculli's review of the first episode of Season 4 on NPR though so now I know some of the juiciness from Season 3 even though I'm still not done with it.  Damn NPR.  (No self control.  That's me.)  And, by the way, I want Bianculli's job.  Sit and watch TV all day (which is what I do now), and then get to discuss it, and get paid for it (which is what hubby wished happened)?  Is that legal???

There is nothing about Downton Abbey that I do not love.  I watched so much over vacation that I was addressing hubby as, "My Lord."  I can't say he hated it?

And, Downton Abbey makes me feel so refined and less sleazy about all the other crap I watch.  It's like a food cleanse after you've eaten 20 Big Macs.

The Following.  So, I kinda got addicted to this by accident.  As usual, I blame hubby who I think  happened on it after I'd succumbed to sleep around two o'clock in the morning after watching about eight episodes of Dexter.

I had no respect for Kevin Bacon after his sex tape scandal of the eighties.  Then hubby informed me that that was Rob Lowe.  (Both of them have that look shared by what'shisface on Dexter, apparently.)  But, I still can't erase the horrors of Sleepers from my mind every time I see Bacon on screen.  (I know that's legit.)

I don't recommend The Following if you are suspicious by nature because then I think you would end up committed - to a mental institution (not a good man).  And after about the fifth or was it the eighth? episode it's getting on my nerves.  Really?  Everyone is out to get Bacon?

I've had to put this show on hold though because while I've had my nose so far up Netflix' a$$, the spring season of MY REGULAR SHOWS came out.  Alas, I already missed one.  Sorry, Mr. Reese!

So, that's it friends. 

If it weren't for my TV life, I'd have no life at all.

Turns out Lilyhammer is the father.

Remember when I wrote Prudie about my then three year old going all Lilyhammer on us?  Well, she still does a lot of vaguely crime kingpinish stuff.  And, if I had any doubt before, I can now definitively answer the question I've asked myself, "WHERE DID SHE COME FROM?"

We're sitting around at breakfast and Boy Child says, "Yesterday at school a kid went to juvie for throwing a rock at a car."

Girl 1:  Was it a moving car or just a parked car?

(It's possibly she will go into law?)

Boy Child:  I dunno!  Does it matter?  Sheesh, Girl 1.  Throwing a rock at a car is NOT OKAY!  It doesn't matter if it's parked or moving!

(His behavior may not always exhibit his knowledge, but when it comes to what's right and wrong, that kid knows his stuff.)

Me:  Yeah.  It's really not a good idea.  Ask your dad.  He knows a thing of two about throwing rocks at cars.

I still don't know why I said that.  And, as I uttered the words, I should have known it might end questionably.

After all four kids looked expectantly at hubby like he was Santa giving out candy, he really had no choice but to start telling them a story.

The story goes like this:

Back when hubby was a tween, he and some "friends" were walking along a fairly desolate road and saw an old car a good way away.  They decided to wager on who might be able to hit the car with a rock.  So, the other boys started throwing rocks and were unable to hit the car.  Hubby picked up a rock, threw it, and they all heard a loud cracking sound.  Then they heard someone come out of a nearby house yelling.  They ran away.  A few days later some cops came to hubby's school and took him to juvie.  His "friends" had ratted him out, and they had told the cops that it was just hubby that was throwing rocks.

Hubby stopped talking and the kids were just kind of staring at us waiting for (I guess) a moral to the story.

So, I said, "THAT is why we pick our friends wisely....................Wait........................What I mean is - true friends don't rat out their friends.........................Wait.  That's not what I meant.  What I mean is - you need to decide what's right and wrong for yourself.  Don't let your friends decide for you.  Yeah.  That's what I meant........................You knew throwing rocks at cars was wrong, right babe?"

Silence.

"RIGHT, babe???"

Hubby:  Of course.  Yes.  I knew throwing rocks was wrong and I shouldn't have done it.  And my so-called friends shouldn't have lied either.  But that's okay.

Looking back, at that point I should have loudly asked, "WHO'S READY FOR DESSERT?"

But, hindsight is 20/20.

Kids:  What do you mean it's okay?  What happened after that?  Did you go to jail?  Did you have to pay a fine?  Did the other kids go to jail for lying? 

(It's clear their knowledge of the criminal justice system is severely limited.)

Hubby:  Well, after that happened my mom had to go to court and pay a fine.  Because I shouldn't have messed up that guy's car.  Even though it was a beat up old car, the guy said it was an "antique."  The cops didn't do anything to the other kids.  I didn't tell anyone they were lying. 

Kids:  Well, that doesn't quite seem fair that they were throwing rocks too.  But they lied and so they didn't get in any trouble?

Hubby:  Yeah, well that's okay.  Later they met with some unfortunate incidents.

Kids:  Oh no!  What do you mean?

Hubby:  Oh, one of them repeatedly banged his face on some rocks and one of them fell down some stairs.  And I think someone beat one of them up.

A short silence followed in which the kids were deep in thought.  And then finally:

Boy Child:  Hmm.  So, I guess that's what they call karma?

Me:  Yup!  That's exactly what they call karma!  Does anyone want dessert??!!

Is it too late to write my own vows?

Hubby's Real Life Vows (updated because after being with hubby for 12 hours, I thought of three more.).

1.  I promise to not hate you when you put everything in the garbage disposal.  And then blame it on the kids.  And then ask me to "fix it."

In  my defense, he bought four.  There's still two left!!!

2.  I promise to gently remind you about details when you tell me, "I know I haven't seen this movie."

3.  I promise to cover for you in the areas of:  science, politics, religion, and trivia even though you have a master's degree.

4.  I promise to not hate you even when you shrink every single one of my nice shirts and then blame it on the quality of the fabric.

5.  I promise to not be jealous of fictional TV detectives that you fall in love with and virtually stalk.

6.  I promise to be able to find and download every obscure song that you hear on NPR and want on your playlist.  Even though you only give me one word (sung off-key) on which to go by.

7.  I promise to not be offended when you constantly correct my grammar, spelling, and vocabulary.

8.  I promise to take all the photographs of everything.  Everywhere.  For eternity.

9.  I promise to not be too pissed when every photo you take of me is blurry, off-center, or my head is cut off.

10.  I promise to understand when you get lost.  In the city you have lived in for 15 years.  In the mall.  On the way to find the restroom.  On vacation.  In the hospital.

11.  I promise to understand that procrastination is actually a skill that requires high levels of intelligence, self-control, and organization. 

12.  I promise not to laugh when you start to say something Very Important, but cannot remember any of the details or why it was actually Important.

13.  I promise to understand that when you say, "If you don't eat these leftovers today they are going in the trash," it is because you cannot waste food, not because you are trying to give me food poisoning.

14.  I promise to understand that next to breathing, sleeping is your favorite pastime.

15.  I promise to understand that you are physically incapable of making your own coffee.  Even when I buy you a Keurig.


I now pronounce you man and wife.

Would you believe me if I told you it was Netflix's fault?

It's a good thing consistent blogging is not my real job.  And, let's not get into a discussion about:  What is my real job?

So, I've blogged like twice in the last month and a half?

Seriously.  I've considered shutting down my blog a lot during the past few months.  The problem is I cannot figure out how to transfer everything over to my 1991 Commodore without it completely blowing out the hard drive (kidding, but I do lack the technological skills and my laptop is almost that old).

So, here I am.

Netflix decided to release the third (?) season of Damages.  Freakin' finally (after I had completely forgotten what the f*ck happened in season one and two).  And then they released the third season of The Killing.  This is still sucking my time in a sickeningly enriching and enjoyable way.  Just last night I told hubby that when he dies I am totally stalking Holder.  Probably until I am jailed. 

And then Halloween happened somewhere in there.  Then after weeks of being smug about not getting sick like other (weaker) people and having a superior immune system - I got sick.  And, throughout all of this my Boy Child has had a teensy bit of an adjustment period...ahem...two months...ahem...to middle school.  I've had to navigate that complicated road between Helicopter Mom and Delinquent/Meth Mom.  That.  is.  time.  consuming.

What else?  Oh, yeah.  I have four kids and I painted my Yukon Cornelius yellow and threw up a taxi sign on top.

Cheesus.

Anyway.  I go to blog and here's what happens:

1.  Instead I clean out my 1044 emails because I am sick and tired of searching for that one email that is offering me a million dollars.  This takes about eight hours because I get distracted with wondering Do I want to improve my sex life?  And:  The fact that I have maybe 10 friends, so who are all these emails from?  Oh, yeah.  Some Russian chick wanting to be friends and that guy in South Africa who says we're related and needs my social security number (note to self:  I could totally have way more than 10 friends).

2.  I decide to make dinner (in which the smoke alarms signals it's ready).  True Story:  The five year old no longer responds at all when the smoke alarm goes off.  She asked me yesterday if it meant that I was cooking.  Thanks.

3.  I decide to clean the five year old's room (which has not been done since the last Saturday in August).  There are brand new clothes (summer clothes?) still in the bags (which my wonderful house cleaner has carefully hung on hangers in her closet).  Um, embarrassing.

4.  I decide to wash the Yukon.  During which time we find:  a half a sandwich (thank God it looked like peanut butter and jelly - which never really goes bad, right?), one apple (at least I think it was an apple?), numerous Craisins (seriously - a lot - I probably could have bagged them up and returned them to Costco - WTF?  - they cost too much to be wandering loose in the Yukon), seven paperclips (next time I'll just go to the Yukon when I need one), a jacket that's been missing since we went on summer vacation, and lots of homework papers.  Um, Boy Child?  Are those yours?

5.  I decide to change the calendar.  Which causes me to ponder the last month and think about how much I love Halloween and hate Christmas, which makes me sad, and guilty, and want to work on the family budget, which makes me sick, which makes me want to write down all the people I will give gifts to, which makes me shorten the list, which makes me really dread Christmas and wish Halloween could be twice, which makes me feel guilty, which makes me want chocolate, which makes me write chocolate down on the list, which makes me remember to update the calendars.

6.  I decide that instead of blogging what I really want to do is read all the blogs I love.  I get through one, laugh a lot, and then decide again to shut down my blog because I am not as good as all the people I love to read. 

7.  I download MayMyRun and MyFitnessPal (apparently "Pal" means Nazi-friend who chides your every bite).  After running for nearly all my life, I finally take the advice of a friend and download an app which virtually runs for me.  But, not quite.  I still have to get up and run.  Damn it.  I quickly became obsessed not with actually working out, but with knowing everything about my working out (mainly the fact that I am not working out).  How is this helpful?  Here's the app I want:  The one that works out and eats right for you while you are um, working and sleeping and catching up on Netflix?

8.  I look over at my enormous pile of prints and feel overwhelmed with guilt.  So, I actually work.  At what I get paid for.  Yeah.  Someone please give me a million dollars.  Wait.  Where's that email?

I'm no NOBLO MOFO (similar to NANOWRIMO, but you don't need to see a doctor for it).  And like the alcoholic I am taking it one day at a time.  I can only say I am sober blogging today. 

I've missed you blogosphere and I hope to see more of you soon.  Now, for the love of Pete, go do something useful!

I'm not a detective. I only play one on TV.

I miss you guys, but I'm in the middle of a-ton-o-work and a serious addiction that looks like this:

Step 1:  Admit you have a problem.

My name is Ms. Day In The Life and I am addicted to The Killing. 

(Because it's an addiction, I will have to write a long post about it when I'm done with Season 2.  That's your warning and my apology.)

Date night over 40. I'm not proud.

We hadn't been on the proverbial date night for a while.  So, a few days ago hubby said, "Let's go out Saturday night," it took about a quarter of one second for me to imagine a peaceful dinner without any interruptions and possibly an adult beverage (or two). 

I said, "Okay," incredibly quickly and effortlessly and had messaged the lovely lady that watches our heathens when we are gone in record time.  That was the easy part. 

The rest of this post is kinda how the remaining details went down.  Let me reiterate:  I am not proud.

1.  Answering the question - What to do?  Once you hit 35 (ahem), deciding what to do on any special occasion (or just date night) becomes particularly problematic.  Add in the four kids who must be left with a sitter, the fact that hubby has a physical injury which currently (until his impending surgery) is causing him constant pain, and the fact that I have been nursing a migraine for about a week and you *might* have a recipe for disaster.

We went through the long (and quite ridiculous) pretense of pretending we would do something other than go out to eat and try to stay awake until we were actually back home.  Sample of that:

Hubby:  Well, babe, what could we do?
Me:  Whatever.  Go eat?
Hubby:  Well, what do you like to do?
Me:  Hmm.  I dunno.  Eat?
Hubby:  We could go to the movies?
Me:  Okay.
Hubby:  A short movie.
Me:  Okay.
Hubby:  Who am I kidding?  I don't want to see a movie.  At the theater.
Me:  Yeah, me neither.
Hubby:  I guess we could go eat?
Me:  Okay.  That sounds good. 

This pretense continued until Saturday shortly before our departure time when hubby said, "Was there anything in the paper going on this weekend?"

I had actually looked through The Weekender, recognized one band that was in town, saw that they were playing at a venue about 35 minutes from our house, ruled that out, and skipped over the rest of the entertainment advertisements with mild disgust that I was far too old to watch bands in bars. 

I said, "Well, I saw that The Texas Tornados are playing.  I really love them.  Too bad they are about 20 years late."

(Hubby did not reply.)

2.  Once we decided we would go eat (!), we had to decide where.  I have written about our absolute favorite place on the planet to eat, Spicy Ginger, a few times.  It's a little embarrassing that they know our names there and *kinda* treat us like family.  Regardless, we decided we were both hungry for steak. 

We toyed briefly (and when I say We toyed briefly I mean I thought about it for one millisecond before deciding it was not going to happen) with eating at "the best steak place in our city".  I figured a meal for the two of us plus a few drinks for me would cost about $250.00.  Then I thought about how many kids' pairs of shoes I could buy for that same amount of money and we decided on Saltgrass.  Perfect. 

3.   Saturday was a rainy first day of spring break and we were cooped up inside with four slightly rotten kids and a wildly insane puppy.  So, yeah.  It was joyful. 

I guess you could say hubby and I both were stir crazy like we'd been locked in an insane asylum wanted to get away by the time 6:30 rolled around.  Normally when I know I am going out to eat I try to starve myself a little so that I can be really hungry and enjoy my food. 

But, I've been having some eating issues lately (by eating issues I mean I have wanted to eat everything that isn't nailed down).  As luck would have it, this insane hunger that's been plaguing me oddly stopped Saturday morning.  I woke up and I had no appetite.  (This usually only happens when I have a severe stomach virus or I am in a coma.  I have never actually been in a coma, but it's how I imagine it.)  I ate a smoothie for breakfast, I wasn't hungry for lunch, and I ate a few pieces of Girl 3's dinner that she couldn't finish.  You would have thought that by 6:30 I would have been ready to eat the menu, but truthfully nothing sounded good.

So, off we went to the previously decided upon steak place.  (We passed Spicy Ginger on the way and I had to remind hubby that we were both hungry for steaks.)

4.  It was a 45 minute wait at the steak place.  And our buzzer thingie didn't work.  And I had to drink a margarita on an empty stomach.  And on the way over to the steak place (before said margarita) my headache came back with a vengeance.  And the appetizer we got was meh at best.  By the time we were seated and ready to order my head was splitting open, and I had completely lost any vestige of an appetite that might have been there.

5.  Poor hubby.  I felt positively miserable for refusing to eat any of my dinner, but the thought of food was making me sick and my head hurt so badly I really was struggling to keep it upright.  He *may* have blamed the two margaritas I had on an empty stomach, but he is a gem so he never said that.

6.  At about 9:00 we headed home.  The kids had just gone to bed when we rolled into the driveway.  (I'm pretty sure our sitter thinks we are 90 year olds.) 

Thank The Date Night Stars, our evening was not a total loss.  We managed to watch The King's Speech on Netflix and I give it 10 stars out of 10.  I stayed awake during the whole thing (except possibly the beginning credits and about 10 minutes after that - shhhh - don't tell hubby) and it was such a delight that I managed to forget about the pain in my head for a while. 

After the movie ended is where it got complicated.  In Texas we have this nasty thing called Daylight Savings Time.  So, the movie ended past midnight (which was really 1:00 a.m.).  I decided at that time to break down and take some serious migraine medication.  As you might know the meds contain lots of caffeine.  And it had started thundering and lightening (of course because we haven't had thunder and lightening in about eight months).  And puppy and the kids cried all night.  And I ended up sleeping in Girl 1's single bed. 

Too bad I couldn't have had date night around 4:00 a.m. because I was still wide awake and I think my appetite was even coming back.

7.  Boy child had my steak dinner for breakfast. 

Date night over 40, people. 

How much will it cost for a re-do?

Netflix - I can't quit you.

So, I really love a great movie, but I've had a somewhat capricious relationship with Netflix since we started seeing each other last February.  I've written about it here, here, and here. 

What's uncanny is that just about one week ago after a trip to Blockbuster (remember Blockbuster?) I said to hubby, "Y'know I am really sick of Netflix never having the movies I want to see.  Why don't we just cancel Netflix and pay Blockbuster a monthly fee and we can watch whatever we want.  Well, just nine of whatever we want, but we don't have any time anyway."

To which hubby answered, "Yeah, but then we'd have to drive.  And besides we don't have any time to watch nine movies a month."

I quietly agreed with hubby, but I continued to dis Netflix in my head for a week.

Then this past Friday rolled around and we watched this (on Netflix):

On the Netflix scale of stars I think it had a 3.  Apparently 3 stars means, "This movie kinda sucks, but if you cannot drive to Blockbuster to rent the movie you really want to see, go ahead and watch this."

Saturday I woke up decidedly pissed at Netflix and seriously considering breaking up.  Then Saturday night rolled around.

Hubby selected this movie:

and you are lucky I am still alive to write about it.

Today I am convicted in continuing my relationship with Netflix for at least a while longer. 

Holy cow, y'all.  If you want a scary movie - this is it.  It's the scariest I've seen since Insidious, which I really liked.

I started to watch the movie with hubby still finishing up a few things on his computer.  It started out with subtitles and immediately I thought, "Crap.  I have to read?"  But I was quickly (I mean within the first few seconds) drawn in.  If you don't click the link - it's set in (I think) Tokyo and it involves a group of friends.  The main character is one of the friends and he is a photographer.  (Are you scared already?  I was.  Cameras in scary movies.  freak.  me.  out.)  In a nutshell (and without a spoiler alert) he and his girlfriend must figure out how to deal with some freaky $hit that is happening to him.

If you are not a reader and hate subtitles - don't worry - there isn't a lot of dialogue.  Because the dialogue that is there is powerful?  I don't know.  I'm not a movie critic.  Just know that hubby hates subtitles and he kept up just fine.

For a movie to really scare me, the main of elements of the movie have to have a basis in reality.  If I think to myself this could really happen then I am scared.  I also love the view that is from the main character's eyes (all you movie critics - tell me what this is technically called).  This movie fits the bill on both counts.  It could happen (that's also what I say about Rosemary's Baby and The Exorcist) and I love the camera shots.  (Ha!  If you've already seen the movie see how I did that?)

After the movie, I had to wait downstairs until hubby was ready for bed so that I didn't have to brave the upstairs alone.  Then I had to do a 20 point check of the upstairs (closets and showers) before I made a running leap on to my bed (so that I was not grabbed by the ankles  by something under my bed).  After I was safely tucked into my bed (two hours later - kidding - kind of) I still had goosebumps.

Hubby said it wasn't all that scary to him (yeah, right).  But I saw him second glancing at all of our windows on the way upstairs.

If you love scary movies like I do - watch it.  You will not be disappointed.