That was weird

So this weekend was pretty weird.  I feel like I really grew as a person, because of all the things I learned.  Grow, grow, grow.  Expand your mind.  That's what I'm doing, just getting smarter and smarter, and more worldly by the minute.  You should all be afraid.  Soon, I will know everything.

Let's start with the, "what did you learn from a bad situation" scenarios, and then we'll finish with some a little peppier, okay?

I learned on Saturday night that grumpy men sitting in Row RR at John Mayer concerts do not like to have beer spilled on them.  I probably knew this all along, but it was definitely confirmed on Saturday night.  Let me set the scene for you...we had decent seats, but they were "behind-the-goal" if you will, so they were temporary and a little wobbly.  Aluminum is like that.  Great for soda pop, not so great for stability.  As I was walking to my seat, I stepped on the lady's bag next to me.  Wobble, wobble goes Kathy...and hence my beer spilled on Grumpy McScrooge in row RR.  I immediately apologized, "I'm so incredibly sorry," I professed.  This was met with cold dead eyes.  For a second, I thought, "My god, he doesn't even know that I spilled on him.  Why else would he provide no reaction at all?  Should I tell him why I'm apologizing?  What am I supposed to do now?" I kept walking, really embarrassed.  This is why I can't have nice things.   It became quite clear that this gentleman did not like getting spilled on, not one bit.  I learned this through the five over-the-shoulder stink faces I received.  Two would have been sufficient.  By #4, I was not really sorry any more.  The thing about accidents is that they are just that, on accident.  If they weren't, they'd be called, "on purposes."  And of my $7 beer, I spilled approximately $0.25 worth.  So, I'm sorry for that.  Next time, I'll drink at least $1 worth before entering my row.

Last night, someone tried to break in to our house.  The alarm blared at 3:45 am.  I have a baseball bat under my side of the bed for just the occasion.  My sorority paddle is on the other side of the bed, because I believe in bludgeoning intruders, I suppose.  Pi Phi till I die!  I learned last night, that the one flaw in my plan, is that when an alarm goes off in the middle of the night, it causes me great confusion, and I think it's the alarm on my phone.  So instead of taking a weapon with me to face the intruder, I took my phone.  Guess I could have thrown it at him, or tweeted about how scared I was.  Looks like Husband and I are going to need to run, "Intruder Drills" so I can train myself to grab blunt objects, not electronics in the face of danger.  In case you are wondering, the alarm scared the hamburglar off...or he got a look of my messy house and thought, "Somebody's already cased this joint."

And finally, I learned that decorating for Christmas provides quite the challenge when you have a 14-month-old tornado residing with you.  We officially entered the, "I must touch everything in the room" phase on Thursday.  There's no turning back.  All valuables and breakables must be hidden for the next two years.  I hope it's only two, when do kids stop breaking stuff?  After putting up the Christmas tree yesterday, she grabbed the branches and shook it on three different occasions.  So...no ornaments in 2013.  It's best for everyone involved.  Also, Christmas doesn't exist in our home below three feet.  All decorations reserved for shelves.  I remember reading a "Puppies for Dummies" book when we first got Mr. Bojangles.  It said it was important to put the puppy in situations where it could succeed.  I'm applying the same theory to raising a human.  Put her in situations where she can succeed, not destroy.  Preferably in a really adorable outfit.

BREAKING NEWS: just received a text from Husband saying that our little wild child had a problem using "nice hands" at daycare today.  I think that's their way of saying she was hitting the other children.  Note to self, take baby with you the next time you have an intruder, her instincts are better than yours.

Weekend Recap

I'm making an attempt to organize this blog a little.  Please contain your excitement, you're embarrassing yourself.  (embarrassing is a word I never spell right the first two times I try, see previous post in regards to irony).  I follow a very cute blog that is organized in a very cute way. She offers tips and links and whatnot.  Her blog actually provides something good for society.  Every time I read her blog, I think, "Kath, get it together!  You should do this!"  But then I remember that my blog doesn't really offer anything other than sarcasm, observations, and a funny story from time to time.  But who says I can't organize my sarcasm?  No one, that's who.  So I'm going to try to stick with a schedule.  Feel free to suggest a "topic" I should work into the weekly schedule.  I'm open to your ideas, as long as they are good ones.  Keep your bad ideas to yourself.

My weekend was not as exciting as you might expect a 30-something with a six month old baby might be.  We had a nice little Saturday planned.  We were going to Home Depot to pick out some wallpaper, then maybe we'd hit Bed Bath and Beyond...

On Saturday day/night I got to see three old high school friends.  We all wore flannel and Dr Martens to keep it authentic.  We talked about drinking wine coolers at the Fairfield Inn one wild weekend back in the day.  And every time I'm with this particular group of girls I think of playing no-brakes in my father's El Camino (Spanish for "the road").  Driving around winding streets never hitting the breaks.  It was really fun...and looking back on it, a really, really good decision.  Please don't tell my mom.  I can promise you that 16 years later, she still wouldn't find humor in it.

Saturday night I got home in time to watch the Syracuse vs. Michigan game.  I was conflicted.  I don't ever cheer for Michigan.  It's not that I cheer against them, I just cheer for whoever is playing them.  So I suppose that's cheering against them.  I don't really have a good reason for this anti-wolverine feeling, except when I lived in Michigan, I liked Michigan State better.  And I like Ohio State.  I like that they sing to Hang On Sloopy and who doesn't love Script Ohio?  See?  It's all legitimate.  Like science.  But Michigan was playing Syracuse, who I NEVER cheer for.  I hate Syracuse.  I actually have a good reason for not liking Syracuse...Gerry McNamara.  I try to keep this blog family friendly, so I'll keep my true feelings to myself.  But let's just say Kathy isn't a fan.  Boooo Gerry McNamara.  Boo!  And they had that kid Eric Devendorf who punched girls.  Seriously, who is cheering for these hoodlums? And I'm just going to say it....I don't like Jim Boeheim.  I know he's a legend.  I know that I'm supposed to respect him.  But I don't.  Don't like him one bit.  And I think his zone is stupid.

So I cheered for Michigan.  And they won.  Obvi, God is on my side.

Finally, I managed to use the phrase, "Straight cash money, homey," twice this weekend.  Once while talking to Spencer.  What can I say?  I go hard.

This is a Stick Up!

I've been meaning to write this blog for about a month now, but for one reason or another I keep getting sidetracked.  But it's Tuesday and I would like share a story/some advice with you.  You are so very welcome.

About a month ago Husband and I were being good suburbanites and went shopping at Home Depot.  It was time to freshen up the landscaping in the front.  It was an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day outside, which I have learned translates to Home Depot be hoppin'!  We, however, seemed to be the only people not in a major hurry to get our soil, rakes and plants.  As we walked toward the garden center, a very tiny woman of approximately 4 feet 11 inches raced up behind us.  She was in a hurry. A  big, big hurry.  Instead of using the 7 feet of open aisle on our right to pass, she increased her speed.  She was tailgating and I could feel her hot breath on the small of my back (you know, because she was short and I'm not).  At no point did she back off, there was only one clear solution.

And so, I decided to treat dramatic behavior with equally dramatic behavior.  Sometimes it's the only way to get your point across.  I stopped suddenly, threw my hands in the air and turned to the side so she could pass.  See the kitten pictured above?  I looked like that, except I'm not furry and I was being accosted by her rudeness, not a gun...although guns can be very rude.  I hadn't run my plan past Husband before acting, so the look of surprise on his face was equal to the small woman's.    She was instantly embarrassed.  She muttered, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," as she scurried away.  Point made.  Kathy wins.

Husband stared at me and asked, "What WAS that?"  I simply stated, "She was in a hurry, so I was getting out of her way."  Then I smiled wide.  I proceeded to explain that sometimes you have to act ridiculous in order for others to recognize their own ridiculous behavior.  The only downfall to this strategy is that sometimes you embarrass the people you are with...and that is a risk I'm always willing to take.

Well, that was rude...

I chose Tuesday to announce on Facebook the big news that Husband and I are going to be parents to more than a furry, attitude-filled dog this September. I battled back and worth as to whether to announce it at all on the Book.  The Book is weird, and voyeuristic, and I tend to be a dramatic worrier, so I wanted to get through all those first hurdles before I went on the interwebs to explain my fatness.

I tried to justify to myself that I didn't need to announce anything on Facebook, because this was our personal/private news.  Whatever.  I wanted the attention.  I think that's a symptom of being pregnant, or a symptom of being Kathy, either way, I secretly wanted the accolades.  No need to lie about it.

So, I announced, and I was overwhelmed with the kind words and many congrats.  Yay Kathy!  You are virtually loved!  Or so I thought.  At the end of the day, I noticed I had lost three "friends."  Hmmmm, that's pretty strange.  So I decided that the reason these three people unfriended me on the day I announced I was going to be a first-time mom had to be one of the following:

1. They hate babies.  It's true, there are people out there that hate babies.  They also hate puppies.  And rainbows.  And sunshine.  And otters.  They knock ice cream out of little kids hands.  So now that I am on the cusp of having one of those squishy tagalongs, they can't be my electronic friend.

2. They hate the idea that I will be a mom.  While not very nice, I get it.  I'm scattered and dramatic, like to drink dark beer, and have been known to cuss once or twice year.  I may not be the ideal parent, this is true.   But Husband is gentle and kind, so he should balance out all my bad qualities.  And besides, I will teach this little girl all about sports and shoes and politics, and most importantly, the fine art of sarcasm.  Obviously, these three people just don't believe in me.  Their loss.

3. They hate me.  Merely by coincidence, three people made the decision, "I just can't take anymore of Kathy's nonsense.  She is no longer my friend.  We are done. She is dead to me!"  And then they threw the plate with my name on it into the fire (Joe Schmo Show anyone?) Granted, I don't believe in coincidence, so this isn't a realistic option.

Losing Facebook friends is a very strange feeling.  My inner 16-year old wants to write them a note and ask them why we aren't friends anymore.  But the realistic version of myself figures, since I'm not even sure who the three former friends are, we probably weren't that close anyway.

Weekend Conversations

Ever wonder how conversations go down in my world?  I'm happy to oblige you with a couple of gems from this weekend.  I'll be recapping my gameday experience tomorrow.  But until then, here is a little randomness to whet your appetite.

When: Sunday
Where: El Vaquero with Mother and Husband
Subject: One of my mom's clients who has great hearing

Kathy: I can hear through walls.  It freaks people out.
Mother: You would make a great spy.
Husband: *snicker*
Kathy: I don't know if I'd be a good spy.  I would have a very hard time keeping the top secret information to myself.  I like to share interesting stories.
Husband: That's what I was thinking.  You would have to tell somebody.
Kathy: That's why I blog, so I can share my interesting stories.  I wonder if they let spies blog...

When: Monday afternoon
Where: Guest bedroom, with Mr. Bojangles barking and jumping on the bed making it impossible to put the sheets on correctly.
Subject: How the dog is not helpful.

Kathy: If there was a competition for helpful dogs, you wouldn't even get Honorable Mention.
Mr. Bojangles: Bark, bark, bark, growl.
Kathy: Come on Mr. B, let's go get a treat.
**Dog runs out the door, and I shut it behind him.  Successfully tricking him.**
Kathy: He's eventually not going to fall for that anymore
Husband: Nah.  He's pretty dumb.
Kathy: Well, that's just rude.

When: Monday evening
Where: Living room
Subject: University of Maryland's new football uniforms

Husband: Look at those!  They are wild.  I don't understand.
Kathy: It's their flag.
Husband: What flag?
Kathy: The state flag of Maryland.
Husband: How do you know that?
Kathy: How do you not know that?
Husband: Why do you know what the state flag of Maryland looks like?
Kathy: Why don't you?
Husband: Why would I know what other state flags look like?
Kathy: I'm not sure why you are reacting this way.  And I can't believe you don't know your state flags.