Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Halting the Hate Parade: A Mission!

Why are so many girls so catty?  Don't they realize that talking crap about one another doesn't make them look better by comparison, it just makes them look mean?  This is especially true when it comes to looks, which is usually the one thing girls are most critical about with one another.

I guess that females have always been this way towards one another, but now that there's the internet, with some sense of anonymity, it seems to have gotten worse.  To see evidence of this, one only has to look at the comments under a celebrity news blog.  On OMG!, the Yahoo celebrity blog, for example, I didn't have to click but once to find the cattiness--it's in the comments section of every single post.  For instance, here's a picture of Cameron Diaz on the red carpet:

Gosh, she's beautiful, right?  Well, not according to the comments section:

That's, of course, a small sampling, and there are also many positive comments, but why do people feel the need to say mean things at all?  Didn't their mom's teach them not to say anything at all if it's not nice?  There are even worse comments, some calling her downright "ugly".  I don't understand that, because, objectively, there is no possible way a sane person could think she was ugly.  Maybe she doesn't win the crown for the world's most gorgeous person, but ugly?  I think not.

Take a look at this Facebook group, dedicated to letting the world know that Megan Fox is ugly:

Click to enlarge

 Really, people?  REALLY?  Calling someone ugly won't make you any prettier, and clicking on that "Like" button up there will just make you look like a horrible (or really stupid) person.  You may not like her movies or her attitude, but the one sure thing about Megan Fox is that she is drop-dead gorgeous.
I don't know how celebrities do it, especially women, who seem to bear the brunt of the hate-force.  There was a time in my life when I thought I wanted to be famous, but that was before the internet and paparazzi exploded the way it has--now I feel like I dodged a bullet by not going down that road.  I know that I wouldn't be able to handle people saying mean things about me all over the internet, because whenever it happens even once in real life, I can barely hold back the tears.  Having an argument with someone is one thing, but picking on them is another thing altogether.  What did Gwyneth Paltrow ever do to you?

I guess it's just kind of gotten to me the last few days--it feels like cattiness is going around more and more lately.  I hope none of my readers partake in this sort of thing, but if you do, please stop to think before you talk or type something mean.  Here are some good guidelines to go by, I think:

1.  Don't say something just to hurt someone's feelings, especially if they have done nothing to you personally.

2.  Don't say anything about someone that would make you ashamed if your mom/grandma/preacher/child found out you said it.

3.  Don't pick on someone who's not there to defend themselves.

4.  Don't say something about someone to someone else that you wouldn't say to them directly.

5.  If you aren't sure if you should say it, err on the safe side and say nothing.

Maybe if everyone makes a little extra effort to be nice, we can stop the Hate Parade altogether and change the world!  Worst case scenario, we'll be better people.  And nice people are sexier.  :)

Monday, July 26, 2010

Happy 9th wedding anniversary, Hubby!

Nine years ago today I was hanging out in Jamaica, a bride.  We didn't have any guests, we used the resort's witnesses, and the wedding was perfect.  Happy anniversary, Hubby--I love you!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Boring boredom.

I hate when people say that are bored.  I don't know if I first heard it from my mom or from someone else, but the phrase, "Only boring people get bored" always stuck with me.  I like that saying.  It implies that if you're bored, you're not trying hard enough to entertain yourself.  I use that phrase as ammunition against the teenagers in my life who don't seem to know what boredom is, having been born after the internet/cell phones/video games/cable TV/Netflix were invented.

 I am here to officially change my stance on this issue and change the saying to, "Only boring people and those on bed rest get bored."  Yes, I am BORED.  How can it be that, mere days ago, there were not enough hours in the day when I am now overwhelmed by the number of not only hours, but minutes and seconds, in a day?  Time has never oozed so slowly.  I've already watched three chick flicks, played endless hours of Bejeweled, taken a shower, updated my Amazon wish list (conveniently adding a link from my blog), bantered on Facebook, and started a novel, and it's only 5:38 pm.  I was so looking forward to the rest I would get from this surgery, but now I can't wait to be able to get up and around again.  This is torture!

Yesterday I got a little overly-brave on my hydrocodone and decided that I had enough energy to go to Walmart with the hubby and the kid.  Ye-ah.  That didn't happen.  I never got out of the car, and by the ride home I was cursing myself for ever having thought I could get around so well two days after surgery.  Today, I thought again I would run some errands with the hubby, but the ever-tightening knot where my gallbladder used to lie changed my mind for me and forced me back into bed.  This flat-out sucks, people.

On top of the boredom, I feel like a horrible mother every time the kid comes up to me and tells me he's hungry or asks me to refill his juice cup.  "Go ask your dad", I have to reply.  Not that he seems to be suffering--the hubby has been doing a great job of keeping the kid busy with errands, movies, and trips to the swimming pool.  In fact, I'm a little worried that when I'm better, the kid will be disappointed with only me to keep him company during the day.  One nice effect of this situation is that maybe the hubby can appreciate my daily grind a little better than he did before. 

Tonight, after the kid goes to bed, the hubby is going to see a movie with some friends, leaving me again alone in bed.  I told him he could go--it's not like he's being cold-hearted or anything--I just wish that I had something to look forward to when he leaves.  Maybe if I'm not too doped up, I'll work on my novel some more.  I've started a novel twice before and never gotten past the second chapter; but then, I've never worked on one while laid up from surgery either.  Maybe I could even finish the whole thing before the hubby has to to back to work!  Ok, now I'm reaching.  I'm going to go mess around on Facebook some more.  Blah.

In an effort to make this post less boring, I will leave you with a photo I took on a recent visit to the zoo of a chimpanzee breastfeeding her baby.  Who doesn't love a breastfeeding simian?

Friday, July 23, 2010

Let's talk about weight.

First of all, I'd like to say that my last blog post was my 100th, and that's kind of a big deal, but I wasted it on a stupid post-op update.  Damn!  Oh well.  Whatareyagonnado?

So, I've got some major medicine-head going on due to the hydrocodone making its way through my system.  I've switched to i.b. profin, but I still feel kind of drunk, so bear with me here.  Could be a bumpy blog ride.

What was I going to write about again?  Oh yeah, that's right:  weight.  Yesterday, in my medicated stupor, I was thinking about it.  You see, ever since my gallbladder went on the fritz, I've had trouble eating and so I've been losing weight.  Over the last month or so, I've lost about six pounds.  That may sound like a lot, but I'm 5'8 1/2", so six pounds on me isn't really all that noticeable...I lose and gain weight pretty uniformly, too, so it's not like all of a sudden I've got no butt.  It's just an all-over slim-down.

At first, when I was losing weight, I was thinking it was pretty awesome.  What a great side-effect!  I mean, who doesn't want to be skinnier?  Then, the more people told me that I looked really good, I started to realize:   I am sick.  That's kind of messed up.  I mean, I've never really been overweight or anything, but the fact that people equate losing weight with looking better, even on a person who is at a healthy weight, well...that's pretty whack.

To put this whole thing into perspective, let's use BMI--Body Mass Index.  Calculating one's BMI is generally considered a good way to determine whether weight loss (or gain) is necessary.  Before I began losing weight, I was at 146 pounds, so here is my BMI (taken from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services website):

And here's what I looked like at 146 pounds:
Hm...21.9.  That landed me right in the middle of the the healthy "normal weight" category.  Not bad!

Now let's see where I am now, at 140 pounds:

Looking like this:

(Yeah, I realize it's a weird picture, but it's the most current full-length I have, ok?)

Well, it looks like I'm still considered healthy.  That's actually good!  Maybe I shouldn't be so upset at all those people for saying I look good sick.  I guess I do look pretty good...even if it's not on purpose.

This whole thing got me to thinking, though, what if I got even skinnier?  Don't get me wrong, I'm not intending to lose any more weight--I was just wondering, what the heck is up with celebrities?  I have read many an article about celebrity females my height or so who weigh between 110-120, 120 being on the heavy side.  In fact, if I were completely brainwashed by Hollywood, I would think that I needed to weigh about 125 at the most to look good.  I did a little Googling and found this webpage* with a bunch of celebrities' heights and weights.  Katie Holmes is, according to them, 5'8", 120 lb.  I find this alarming because I actually think that Katie Holmes looks good, and I'd consider her and I to have the same body-type, but look what happens when I plug that number into a BMI calculator:

Yep, she's underweight.  In fact, the vast majority of the celebrities listed on that page are underweight.  If I lost 10 pounds and got down to 130, I'm pretty sure people would be throwing cheeseburgers at me, but 120?  Are you KIDDING ME???  

Looking at all this information makes me so happy that I got out of L.A. when I did--that is certainly not a good environment for breeding healthy self-esteem.  Living around those skinny people is like being submerged in an entirely new species--like Gulliver landing on Lilliput.  Can you imagine trying to raise a daughter there, with all those people walking around who stay underweight for the sole reason that the camera adds ten pounds (and flat screen TVs add 20)?  It makes me sad.  

 And now I want a Sonic bacon cheeseburger.

*ETA:  I just realized that link with all the celebs' heights and weights is a pro-ana (pro-anorexia) website.  I will not be linking it now.  Sorry 'bout that.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Sorry ladies...

I'm alive!  Just wanted to make that quick assertion, so that we didn't have a bunch of single women knocking down our door.  I did have to stay the night in the hospital, but I'm home now and feeling pretty well, other than the inevitable soreness. 

I'll be back with a regular post soon--thanks for all the well-wishes!

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Just in case...

Tomorrow's the big day, guys!  I'm checking in to the hospital at 7:30 am:  goodbye gallbladder, hello happiness! 

The hubby and I were talking the other night about surgery, and I reminded him that I'm a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate), so if I end up brain dead, I want the plug pulled.  He's one of those people who would have robot parts implanted in him if it meant he could live forever, so it's kind of hard to get him on board when it comes to sending me swiftly to the afterlife.  Also, he's worried that if he pulls the plug on me, my family will hate him forever, so he told me that I ought to write my wishes on my blog so that there is some published proof that he's not a cold-hearted wife killer.  Here you go, hubby! 

Come to think of it, DNR is probably not the right term, because I think that means I don't want CPR or defibrillators used on me, which isn't what I mean.  I just don't want to be a vegetable.  What's the point, really?  Life is for living, not lying in a hospital bed.  If I can't feel love, I don't want to live.  Also, after about a week of being unconscious, I'm pretty sure that I'd be unrecognizable.  My eyebrows would quickly morph into two giant caterpillars crawling perilously close to my eyeballs.  *shudder*

The hubby just told me that since I'd be unconscious I wouldn't know the difference, and he was going to have them freeze my brain so I could wake up 400 years in the future and we'd be living on Saturn and I'd be all, "Damn him!!!"  That was word-for-word.  Sigh.  This is a perfect illustration of why I'm writing this blog post. 

I'd like to also add that if I die, he's going to need a replacement.  I know I complain a lot about him, but I've got a pretty spectacular hubby here, so if you don't hear from me within at least a few weeks, come and get him!*
 Well, what do I have here?  It's a man--and he's looking for YOU!

I don't think I could successfully pass over to the afterlife unless I knew that my kid wasn't motherless...that is just too sad to even contemplate.  I once worked in a daycare with a three year-old boy who had just lost his mother, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears every time I looked at him.  Please don't let my hubby be haunted--step up and help a blogger out!  Just make sure I'm dead first, please.  :)

And with that, I'm off!   Being that my surgery will be performed laparoscopically and is a very routine procedure, I doubt that any of this blog will be relevant but, you know--had to cover my bases.  Wish me luck guys!

*(But only if you are very sweet and funny and love kids and aren't too strict and promise to keep my memory alive)

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Take my picture, da*n it!

Well, whaddaya know?  I'm up to 30 followers!  Thanks guys!  My goal was to get 30 followers since I'm 30 years old, so I can go ahead and check that off the list. :)

Speaking of being 30 years old, I'm starting to wonder what the heck I'm going to do next month.  I started this blog as a way to document my 31st year, which I'd looked forward to all my life, hence the name, "Year 31".  Well, I guess I didn't think I'd follow through with the whole year or something, because that's not a very versatile title.  Should I re-name my blog after August 18th?  Should I just keep the title and be one of those blogs with a nonsensical blog name?  I did actually have the foresight to create a banner that makes sense after my next birthday, but I still feel like it's a weird title.  Eh, I don't know.  I'd love some suggestions!

Let's see...what else?  Oh, I got my test results back, and it turns out that I've got a defunct gallbladder.  I don't have gall stones or anything--it just stopped working.  Weird, I know.  I don't have any of the risk factors for gallbladder disease, though my younger sister did have the same problem about five years ago, so I guess it's genetic.  I'll be having surgery sometime in the next couple of weeks to have it removed, so that's what's up with that.  I'm looking forward to the downtime, but I'm not sure if this means I'll blogging from bed or not--we'll have to see if I feel up to it or not.

Is it weird that I write on this blog like I'd write to a pen pal who hadn't heard from me in a while?  I feel like I have to catch you all up on my life, even though most of you probably don't care much what's going on.  The heat is smothering my sense of humor, I believe, because I can think of nothing funny or interesting to write.  Sorry 'bout that.

Oh!  The kid turned three years old on Sunday!  That's something to write home about.  He had two birthday parties, both with Spiderman cupcakes.  We had one here at home, in a movie theater, and then the other was a swimming party at my dad's house.  I got some great pictures at the pool:

I published 117 photos on my facebook page of the last few weeks, and I was in a grand total of FOUR of them.  What's that all about?  The hubby needs to pick up a camera every once in a while.  We have actually gotten in arguments over this.  I take all the pictures, which I actually enjoy, but I also would like to be in some of them.  The only pictures the hubby ever takes are with his blackberry, which aren't always the best quality.  He did take three last night, though, on family date night, so I should be thankful.  Here's what he got:

Oh!  When we were visiting my dad, I also got to go to St. Louis to visit a friend and support his magazine, What's Up St. Louis.  It's a publication he started which is put out quarterly and sold by homeless people as a way for them to make money and maybe help them get back on their feet.  Great cause, REALLY fun event.  It was called Dizzy Spell, and it was basically a spelling bee with beer involved.  I went in really confident (being the fourth and fifth grade spelling bee champ), but the crowd was full of intellectual hipster types, so I was not a winner.  Oh well.  Here I am trying, unsuccessfully, to spell the word "Erlenmeyer":

Again, taken with the hubby's blackberry.  Again, I had to ask him to take my picture.  Grrr.

Why is it that I feel like such a jerk asking him to take my picture?  I think it's because I just want him to want to take my picture.  Like in the movie The Breakup, if you've ever seen that.  Well, that and also, I feel really self-centered asking someone to take my picture.  It's like, "I look really pretty so take a picture of me!".  But really I just want to be in a picture every once in a while.  When I die, I'd like people to know I was here, you know?

Ok, I need to wrap this up.  The hubby is home with some friends, and I think they're coming in for a drink.  Better put on my hostess hat.  Later gators!

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

So, I'm super-awesome.

(You know, in case you forgot)

I was perusing my blog roll this morning and I caught a glimpse of

on someone's blog.  For those of you who don't know, I created this award one day after some frustration with all the existing blog awards for having the same rules of acceptance.  Why not do something about it, and make up my own, super-awesome, award?  I whipped up a .jpg, thought up some creative rules, and set the li'l guy off on his own into the big blog world. 

So, when I saw the badge on a blog today (a blog I did not originally award myself), it got me to thinking:  how far did my little guy get?  Was he still being circulated?  The answer is a resounding YES!  A quick Google search of "Oh my blog award" yields about 43,600 results.  I started clicking on the links, just to make sure the result was no mistake, and there was my precious green creation, proudly posted on each and every page, with some very funny acceptance posts!

How exciting is that?  My award went viral!  Yay!  I feel like a proud mother.  Just wanted to share my awesomeness with all of you, since it's not like I get anything out of it other than the satisfaction of a job well-done.  In the thankless world of blogging, it's nice to have your creativity validated, even in a small way.  I feel infinitely cooler as I start my day off knowing I've made my own little mark on the blog world.  :)

Saturday, July 3, 2010

"I've arranged for some pretty spectacular fireworks!"

So, turns out that I have to get my gall bladder removed.  At least, I'm pretty sure that's what the surgeon is going to say when I go in for my surgical consult in a couple of weeks.  Bah humbug, surgery!  Oh least it's nothing more serious, and I'll get a much-needed break in between all the hustle and bustle of my crazy summer schedule, even if I do have to get cut open to take it.

In the meantime, who's excited for Fourth of July?  I am!  We are having a BBQ with 20+ people coming over tomorrow to our tiny house.  I know what you're thinking--how will all those people fit in my home?  Well, they definitely won't.  And unfortunately, it's supposed to rain.  That is very bad news for those of us planning outdoor parties with BBQs and fireworks galore.  Luckily, the hubby works at a venue where he is able to borrow big pop-up tents so we may be able to enjoy the rain from under the shelter of those.  I'm still not sure where all the kids will play, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. 

The good thing about living in a county where all fireworks are legal is that we can have a big party and our friends from other counties can enjoy their freedom to light things on fire in our giant yard.  The bad thing about it, is that our freakin' neighbors have been lighting off fireworks every single night for the past week.  At like 11:00 pm.  When we're trying to sleep.  And they're not just regular fireworks--these things are like M-80s or of them shook our whole house.  It's sort of ridiculous.  This is the first year we've taken the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" stance and had a party of our own, but in the past we've basically cowered in our home or left town over the Fourth of July holiday.  I am not exaggerating when I tell you that our neighborhood is like a warzone on Independence Day--walking outside, you'd think you were in Iraq.  I took a video of it one year, but it's still in my video camera (along with the hospital video of the kid) because I'm too lazy to take them off and convert them to something I can actually upload to Youtube.  I'll try to take a video this year and post it so you guys can see.

Oh, before I forget, I was awarded the:

Award by sEy over at 14th Street.  Thanks, sEy!  I think I was her first or second follower, but today she's up to 90, leading me to conclude that she is more than three times cooler than I am, with only 28 of you reading my blog (not that I'm complaining--I love each and every one of you). 

This blog award is very easy to accept--all I have to do is write out my blog philosophy, which is: Write as often as I can about whatever comes to mind without pissing too many people off.  It would appear that most people are using quotes to define their blog philosophy, so here's one I've coined:  "I'm really smart.  People always forget because I'm so pretty."  Kind of sums up my writing, no?  ;)

I've seen no clear-cut rules on how many people to pass this award on to, so here is a short list:

Hula Buns

Brooke in the Big City

Holy Juan

They all have very substance-filled blogs, I would say, so those three should fit the bill! to either clean or nap while I have a couple of hours to myself.  Decisions, decisions.  Have a great holiday weekend everyone!
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