Tag Archives: Writing

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The Ginger Asian

For a while after we got married, my husband and I started talking about children and all that fun stuff that married people talk about someday procreating more of us. We affectionately nicknamed this future fetus to be “the Ginger Asian”. We planned it would happen when it happened, and such is life, it happened far sooner than I anticipated though I’m no less overjoyed by this.

Yes, you read correctly. Another me is entering into this world, as long as nothing horribly bad occurs before then. My husband was far more excited about it than I thought, and I often wonder if he’s more excited than I am. I worry though, I always worry. I have a nasty habit of staying realistically pessimistic until I’m proven that things will work out. I’m still happy though, everything will happen as it’s supposed to.

So for the holidays, we gave our families a special gift: the announcement that a new baby will grace them with their presence. They clapped, and smiled and cheered for joy. We held them to secrecy, until today’s doctor’s appointment would confirm it because the last thing we wanted was a false positive that ended up to be cancer. Yes, that would be my luck.

I hope the world is ready for you, Ginger Asians, I’m sure you’ll take the world by storm.

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Goodbye Old Friend

Before we get into the post of sappiness ahead, I’d like to take some time to wish you all a “Happy Holidays”. I’m sure our family is going to have a great one. I’ll be back on Monday in full swing of things.

Wednesday I called in sick to my posts, so my apologies. But we’ll ignore that fact and pretend that my error was on purpose to make a splendid post in honor of the first man of my life: my father. Any girl would be lying if they didn’t admit that they were in some form of being a bit of a daddy’s girl. I’m the only daughter; it would be a total lie in denying it.

Today is his first day of enjoying the rest of his life in retirement, just in time for the holidays. I’m sure it’s a bittersweet moment for him, but he deserves it. My father always worked when I was a kid, but he did it for us. He worked hard so all of us could be happy and have things we wanted or needed. I used to joke, and still joke now, that he worked so much to get away from my family. Except me, I’m awesome; my brothers are a different story entirely. He received a fitting goodbye from his co-workers of a man who was admired by them. I don’t blame them; I still admire him every day.

They don’t see him fully in his element. At work he is their supervisor that did his job well, but at home he raised a decent enough family and adores his grandchildren. I only hope now that in his retirement, he can enjoy them to the fullest. Though I bet in a week he goes crawling back, this place is an animal house sometimes. I’m kidding… maybe. But if it wasn’t so crazy, we wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

All joking aside, I’m sure my brothers can agree that this was a long time coming and no one ever thought he’d actually retire. Now, he’s young enough to enjoy the rest of his life and I hope he has a while longer with us. I speak for all of us when I say, you rock and thanks for everything.

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Why Men Should Listen to Women More

Also, a lesson in what not to buy for a work party gift swap, and for another note to read before reading, I’m not a feminist I’m a realist.

Last Friday was the work party for my husband’s work, and due to feeling a bit under the weather, my first time attending sober. I’m sure those bottles of red missed me, but we live and we learn and I won’t make that mistake again. That’s not why men should listen to women more, but when it comes to knowing what to do when you’re doing the Yankee Swap. (Or the White Elephant, whatever you call this game, it’s all the same principle.)

During the game, I eyed a few different gifts to steal. My husband refused saying, “you can’t take their gift”. Well sweetheart, the game says it’s not their gift until the end. One of the gifts included a Dunkin Donuts k-cup box and a gift card. “Take that or the iTunes card” I tell him. He assured me that he had this, he knew his plan. His plan was the suspicious looking brown Dunkin Donuts bag. After telling him what a terrible idea this would be, he ignored me and got the gift he wanted and wasn’t prepared for having to open it up in front of everyone to see something they would want to steal. This is where the story gets fun.

Upon further investigation, he turned red and realized that his precious bag had a dirty little secret. By dirty little secret, I mean it was a bag full of sex toys. At first, my mind was empty. I was mortified enough for the both of us, while listening to the hoots and hollers of everyone in the room. I eventually got over that, and wondered why someone would get a bag of sex toys for a work party. Sure, I’d probably do that for a party at a friend’s house, what’s a few toys among friends? But at a work party where there are only a handful of twenty somethings and the rest are easily 10 years above that? I ended up more embarrassed for them, then myself. It ended up the gift got stolen from us and we ended up with Swedish fish vodka.

So, the moral of the story is, when it comes to gifts and present games requiring a bit of thought you should let your female friend make the decision. In fact, anything that requires some degree of thought you should, just for safe measures.

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Goodbye Flame Hair

I know I was all about change a few months ago when I impulsively went blonde. Ok, I’m still about change, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sit back and wonder what I was thinking. I tried something new that is a feat in itself since most people I know refuse to even try something that’s a minor tweak. Sure, I took this lesson of change a little too extreme but that’s me. I can go a little on the extreme side.

With that said, after months of staring in the mirror wondering what I did to myself, I went back to where I belong with lovely red hair. Sorry blonde, we weren’t meant to be. It’s silly to think that something so minor as a hair color could change my attitude and perspective on things. I hated the blonde hair but on my principle of “it just needs a few days”, I left it. I went out with a hat on, if you could even convince me to leave the house. Admittedly, I was over dramatic and extremely self-conscious of it. I refused to even take a picture of it for Facebook. Yep, I was that embarrassed.

Now that I’m back, I feel like myself again. It’s silly when you think about it, but really sometimes even the slightest change is something that can change your attitude. I felt off and out of sync. I never thought of stupid things like “that make up won’t look good on you now”. Really, why does whoever created women hate us? It’s not bad enough we have to get periods and go through the agony of childbirth, now we need to decide what make up and colors match our hair changing whims. I give you the finger, whoever you are.

Blondes, I’m sorry but you don’t have more fun. I think the gingers have it right. (Team Ginger?) We’re fiery and passionate people who just do what we want and don’t care. Go us. Also next time I get a crazy idea with my hair, I would really like it if someone stood up and called me an idiot for it and tell me no. Even though, I probably won’t listen and do it anyways.

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Too Much… Information. Seriously.

My husband has a work party approaching, and I don’t go out too often so when I do I like to look nice and dolled up. In trying on the nice outfit I got for pretty much a steal, I showed it off to my mother in joy of how nice and mature it was. (Mature in comparison for my usually wearing ripped jeans and my chucks.) I was excited anyways; until she pointed out that I looked a little flat in the chest area. Now I’m definitely not flat, in fact I’ve always been proud of those lovely 32cs. I attributed this to the bra I was wearing and decided to head to Victoria Secrets to find a new one. I regret this decision fully, and not just because it pains me to spend that kind of money on a bra. I do, because I’ll be damned if I can find my size anywhere else.

After walking around the store for a bit with my ever so patient husband, who watched his droid the entire time, I couldn’t find a nice strapless bra in my size. Against my better judgment, my husband urges me to ask the nice little clerk to help me out. So, I did and she gave me this line about being sized every so often, blah blah blah. Yep, all I heard was blah. Until she said “You’re not a 32c, you’re a d. Congrats.” As if being told that you’re never ending growing boobs wasn’t embarrassing enough, you’re told it after a strange woman ogled them and announces it in the busy store. Then she sends me off to the fitting room to work to find me the perfect bra. Why couldn’t she just hand me one and send me on my way?

This is when I noticed the direct correlation between me returning to my red hair and my knack for sarcasm and bitterness. A too perky to not be high woman escorts me into a room and starts tossing bras at me, and of course just to add to my embarrassment, my stall was right near the open area of the cash registers. It was then this specialist informed me that the person who sized me was wrong. Victory was mine; I didn’t have a balloon chest after all! Except my victory escaped me when she informed me I was actually bigger. Thanks, now I have floatation devices. In hearing DD being said, I looked in the mirror and I swore I saw myself as Dolly Parton.

I’m fairly certain we walked through the mall and I complained the entire way of how freakish I was. Then I realized who I was complaining to: my husband. It was probably like Christmas to him. Today, 3 days later I’m still embarrassed. I’m not entirely sure if I’m more embarrassed about constantly growing parasites on my chest, or that so many people I didn’t know spent their day inspecting and touching them. It was almost like an appointment with my woman doctor, you know it’s for the best but doesn’t make you feel less violated after.

Yes, I did just blog about my boobs. The title was more of a warning.

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The Church of Bacon

The Church of Bacon

In glazing over the entertainment news, I saw giant headlines announcing that the Duggar family miscarried their 20th baby. My personal feelings on their ideals escaped me; no one should go through that. It did start my odd thought processes of religion, and though I promised myself I wouldn’t write about religion again I couldn’t help it. I will always write about what’s on my mind. The family started their baby machine after they felt their first miscarriage was a sign from God that they were wrong to use birth control. This isn’t the point of my post, but it’s a great introduction. Okay, in rereading it perhaps it’s more mediocre than great but bear with me.

What I mean to discuss is I keep hearing religious people pointing out how “infallible” God is. Ok, as you’ve seen already I’m uncertain how I even stand on the idea of a God. But, for a second let’s pretend my many years of CCD has stuck and I’m a firm believer. Now with this idea of an infallible God, that would lead me to think that he wouldn’t make any mistakes logically. So to take that one step further, that means everyone was made different for a reason. That means different religions and sexual orientations doesn’t make a person a mistake, so therefore shouldn’t be treated as lesser people. Gay marriage shouldn’t be “anti-God”, because God made gay people and we all know by this logic that God is never wrong. All those wars fought for religion may seem pointless, because God created different religions for his people to practice, and of course God is infallible. Right? Sure, you could argue that it’s not God’s mistake, it’s human error. But didn’t he make us in his image?

It’s no wonder I gave up on organized religion, it doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand how you can tell me that this person is evil for this reason and this person is good for that reason and then tell me we were born the way God intended, but then tell me I’m different therefore I’m a mistake. It makes me want to drink all their wine to try to understand the thought process ahead of mass, because I wonder if you have to be drunk to understand it. You know who lets you drink in the afterlife?

That’s a group worth standing behind: the Norse. Let’s die and go to a tavern-like banquet hall when you die? Oh yeah, I think I choose you. Throw in all the bacon I can eat guilt free, and I’ll love you more than you know. Bacon and beer, that’s worth fighting for. Plus, if Thor looks anything like he did in the movie that’d be an extra bonus. Maybe I should be more realistic. If I created a Church of Bacon, where you could be whatever you wanted to be as long as you kept us with bacon. Get enough of a mob mentality and anyone can start a religion or a religious movement.

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It’s so cute… and cuddly.. and murderous?

In time for Christmas, I look at my son’s Christmas list and see a game entitled “Naughty Bear” on it. I chuckled, not knowing what the game was and assuming that with a name like that it couldn’t be that bad. Then, my husband walks in and starts getting upset over it. Apparently the game was far from what I thought it was, and immediately we both crossed it off his list.

In researching it, we find out it’s a video game that has a serial killing teddy bear. There’s over the top violence, which it’s a cartoon we see it in cartoons all the time. I think even cartoons have a line. That’s not what really upsets me about the game, and the main reason we disallowed it in our household. In the game, you’re supposed to torture fellow teddy bears into killing themselves. There’s not much that offends me but that definitely brings me close, especially considering the state of affairs today with teens being bullied to a point of suicide. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that this sickened me a little, especially for a game that’s rated Teen. We spoke to him about it, and he nodded in understanding and went on his way like nothing happened.

This isn’t talking about how video games are too violent and shouldn’t be made. I appreciate video games as an art form, and think that they can create as they want. It’s not the video game companies’ responsibility for what they produce; it’s the parents’ responsibility to make decisions on games that are appropriate or not to play. As avid gamers ourselves, we watch what we play in his presence as well.  I don’t look at ratings when I pick games for my son, I look at content. Parents should research the games and be vigilant in what they allow them to play. Those same parents that refuse to educate themselves try to pass of blame on the companies. It’s not right. We have the same problem with television shows and movies. Parents want things censored so they can ignore their kid and let electronics babysit them, and when something goes wrong they look back and refuse to blame themselves. If you don’t want your 9-year-old to play Modern Warfare 3, don’t buy it for them. Last I checked, as parents you should have control not the kids.

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And I Laughed

I admit it; I have a guilty pleasure of watching TLC reality shows. Not all, but some. It’s not for the reason you’d think, I don’t watch it for tear jerkers that only fake reality shows can give you. Wait, did I say fake reality shows? Just making sure, there’s nothing truly real about reality shows. Well the money the stars off them make is real, but don’t lie to me and say there’s nothing scripted.

I watch them because to me, they have more comedic value than most sitcoms. I have no doubt that this is a result of me being an incredibly mean-spirited and judgmental person. I can’t make it through 19 Kids and Counting without face palming. Not to insult what they do, I deeply admire them for sticking to their beliefs no matter how screwed up the rest of the world thinks they are. In fact, they broadcast it knowing that most people watch it in disbelief. They do it anyways, and I admire them more for that than anything else. I still think that they very much resemble a crazy cult, but who am I to say anything.

Just when I think TLC can’t get any crazier comedy after letting me see a man who uses polygamy to sleep around in a morally conscious way and a woman who has more kids than most classrooms, I watched in awe when I saw “The Virgin Diaries” on the cable guide. I’ll admit, I saw a preview and I got giddy. More so to prove how much my husband and I are completely the same, he was just as giddy as I was. Yes, we sat down with snacks and watched the show. And I laughed, I laughed hard.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problems with people who save themselves for marriage. That kind of willpower is admirable. While I’d rather test drive the car before buying it, I won’t judge people for something as personal as a decision like that. That doesn’t mean I can’t watch a show about you and laugh. It wasn’t the virginity that amused me. It was the people; I think TLC purposely gets the most ridiculous people to star in their specials. It wasn’t all the people in the episode I laughed at, but I was in tears at the married couple. They saved their first kiss for the wedding, as well as their virginity. Sweet, until you saw the awkward first kiss. I covered my eyes, feeling that this wasn’t an image I would forget anytime soon. I was right, so very right. It was like watching my dogs lap up water from their bowls, drool and everything. Then, they kept kissing in the same fashion, and I laughed quite hard. I laughed for hours; I even jokingly kissed my husband in the matter for extra hilarity. Even now, the day after, I’m still laughing at that image.

I know I’m a terrible person.  But, I blame this all on TLC. If they didn’t put people like that on air, I wouldn’t display the worst of the person I could be. This post probably wouldn’t exist if I didn’t witness half the ridiculous things that channel shows. I still watch though, and I feel guilty for that. For watching the shows, not for the reaction I have to them.

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A Sale!

Everyone says I’m cheap. I don’t like that term, and frugal just sounds like you’re trying to be nice about being cheap, but it’s really just as mocking. I prefer the phrase “careful spender”. My husband is gainfully employed, and my job is to nag him for overspending so I can pay the bills. I don’t like the word nag either, so let’s just say I “angrily harass”.

I wasn’t fully aware of this until recently, when my pride in buying this nice blue peacoat for a fraction of what every store wanted for it. It was awesome, a nice expensive looking coat for $30? I’ll take it, and it’s in my favorite color. In bragging about the deal, my father seemed that I even spent that much, noting that “knowing how cheap you are, you only spent $15.” I think I was more upset of the idea I could’ve gotten it for $15, than he called me cheap. Not cheap, father. I’m a “careful spender”. If I say it enough, it’ll catch on. Positive thinking, here I come.

I really just wanted to look nice for Tom’s work party. Unfortunately for me, I’m not used to caring what anyone else thinks about how I look or any of that vanity stuff. It’s not really my thing; I like to do whatever I want. That’s a fine scenario except that when you get married, and now you’re a reflection of your husband. So, now it’s a matter of stuffing myself in a nice outfit and show off how graceful and charming I am. I did find a nice outfit, not expensive and definitely rewearable. Then I found shoes that would just complete it, and I saw they were $60. That was the sale price. It made me feel silly that I agonized over the price, and then every other boot was double it. Sucking up a high heel for $60 less than the other boots? Fine, but I can’t rationalize spending $60 on shoes. I damn near cried of confusion when Tom bought me a nice $120 pair of North Face snow boots. Then part of me had to laugh, those $60 boots cost more than the rest of the entire outfit.

So what if I do grueling research before buying something to make sure I get the best deal? I can’t be the only one. I consider it a skill that I bought 2 prom dresses one year and it only totaled $100. Those dresses looked awesome. I think there’s a talent involved in looking more expensive than you paid, because we live in a world where superficial things like that matter. And I have to say, video games are more awesome free. (I love you Dragon’s Nest.) So keep this in mind, husband. When you buy me that new iPod I bet you’re going to for Christmas, get it on sale. I can see the bank account now.

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Vaccines? What Vaccines?

I keep seeing the debates on “to vaccinate or not to vaccinate”. I despise needles; I hate the way I feel after I get a shot. I hate watching kids get shots, and I hate when they cry because the doctor said they needed the vaccines and I agree with them, making me feel guilty for the decision that was supposed to be right. It was supposed to be the right and mature call that most parents make. After all that, I realized I’d rather get a shot and be miserable for a day today, then down the line die. That’s the decision I made and I’m sticking to it.

I watch crime shows, I love them. However, in one episode of one of these shows I like, the bad guy wasn’t this evil and malicious villain. The “bad guy” was a mom who refused to vaccinate her kid, and the result of that decision caused a baby too young to be vaccinated die. Was this just a scare tactic the show used to get propaganda in our heads about an issue they felt strong enough? Maybe. Did it work? Oh heck yes it did.

What was made clear to me in this episode was that this mother’s decision not only allowed her child to get sick from a disease a vaccine could’ve easily prevented, it killed another who was too young to be offered prevention. I knew every decision I made could easily  either help or harm my child, most parents know this. Now, it’s apparent to me that the decisions I make not only affect my son, it could potentially affect any one he comes in contact with. I can’t have the death of a child on my conscience, I can’t handle that.

I don’t care if I’m considered a bad mother for this, I will vaccinate my children. I realize it’s a personal choice, and while I consider it stupid and selfish and irresponsible to not vaccinate your children, I accept other’s refuse to. I don’t understand why not. So what, they supposedly cause seizures and allergies? Apparently the latest Twilight movie does, but you still let your kids watch that movie. (A side note, no one should watch that terrible movie let alone your kids. Again, totally my opinion.) I’d rather chances of things that could be caused by hundreds of different other things than  killing my kid or someone else’s.

I’m not saying everyone should run out and get every vaccination ever created and dose up on antibacterial stuff. I’m saying that I believe that guidelines are there for a reason. Thanks to a lot of these vaccines, we’re protected from illness that could kill us or bring us very close to death. Because of a lot of these “harmful” vaccinations, we’re free and clear of several very deadly and miserable diseases. I’ll take that, even if it makes me have a bad reaction to a strobe light.