Amazing Gertrude!

While on my way to watch Hannah perform as Gertrude in Seussical the Musical, I had some SERIOUS nervous energy going on. Nevertheless, we got there, and FRONT ROW!

5th Generation Ipod Nanos (with video capture capability) ROCK in a covert ops situation. Just so you know. They’re just so… unobtrusive! Honestly. No one even suspected a thing! At all! So, awesome covertly obtained video footage will follow. Oh, yes. It WILL follow. And they’re gooooood, yo? Because, well, Hannah simply ROCKED Gertrude!

Uh-oh, I feel the motherly pride kicking in again. Gosh… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry…

Frogging: The Object Lesson

While enjoying some down time with my buddy Paige—which involved drinking caffeinated beverages, knitting and crocheting stuff, and watching the movie Australia (which, WOW?)—I looked over and saw that Paige, apparently frustrated, was busy unraveling hours worth of stitches on her bunny sweater project.

Never one to let a teaching moment pass me by—because, nerdly?—I said, “You know, hardcore knitters call that frogging.”

Paige stopped unraveling and looked at me. “What?”

“You know,” I nodded towards her quickly dwindling bunny sweater, “unraveling your stitches when you mess up. That’s frogging.”

Paige paused, looked at her work, then me, and said, “Frogging, eh?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Why?”

Ooooh! Object lesson! Object lesson! I am SUCH a fan of the object lesson.

“Start pulling out the stitches again,” I instructed her. “And since the term frogging sort of gives this impression of, like, way enthusiastic unraveling, really go for it, okay?”

With a shrug, Paige began to unravel her knitting again.

“Good, Paige!” I shouted, which may have been overkill, in retrospect. “Rip it… rip it…RIIIIIP IIIT…!”

Naturally, we got all giggly at this point. I mean, we WERE drinking caffeinated beverages, after all, so there was that whole caffeine-induced giddiness factor in play. I’m only saying.

We may or may not have spent the rest of the afternoon drinking caffeinated beverages, knitting and crocheting stuff, watching the movie Australia, and every so often croaking, “Rip it! RIP IT!” as we exuberantly frogged our respective projects. Maybe. Honestly, it’s all a total blur now. I guess we may never know for certain.

In other news, knitters are total geeks.

American Idol is the Devil. No, Really.

Who in the what now? Kristin Chenoweth was at the American Idol auditions in Orlando?! The ones that aired last night?! As a GUEST JUDGE?! Kristin C?! Olive Snook?! April Rhodes?! What?! Who?! WHAT?!

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

Whatever. I don’t even care. American Idol and I are still SO over. So what if I missed one of my favorite broadway slash television stars sitting in as a guest judge? Big whoop. I am certainly not going to spend the evening scouring YouTube for clips or anything lame like that, I can tell you that. Honestly. Because I don’t even care that I missed one of my favorite broadway slash television stars, Kristin Freaking Chenoweth, being all judgy and whatnot. On American Idol. Even if her appearance on the show would make for a fabulous AI recap. Because American Idol and I ARE NOT SPEAKING.

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

No. I will not be taken in again– not even for Kristin Chenoweth, y’all!– because I have not forgotten how American Idol strung me along for years and years before finally revealing itself as a sham and a liar and a time-suck of epic proportions! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that relationship and where did it get me?! Huh?! Nowhere, bucko, that’s where! And I can’t get all those late-night hours spent dialing and voting and recapping BACK, no sir! That’s all I’m saying.

… must resist the urge to watch American Idol… must resist the urge to watch American Idol…

Totally not checking YouTube and the American Idol Web site on Fox to find video clips from last night. Nope. But if somebody just sent me some random, anonymous links, and I was all, “Oooh, I wonder what THIS link opens?” and I clicked on the random, anonymous links and they happened to take me to some awesome clips from last night’s show featuring Kristin Chenoweth as a guest judge, well then, what’s a gal gonna do, you know? Sometimes things just happen like that, all random and whatnot. Understand? IT COULD HAPPEN. But I won’t be looking around for any clips. Nope.

Because American Idol is the devil.

How to Win Friends and Influence People. And Then Not So Much.

Everything was going so well.

TGIM and I, using out mad Craigslisting skills, had found a super slamming deal on a 5th generation iPod Nano—in green! as requested!—for Mack’s birthday (which, happy birthday, Hannah!), so SCORE. We established contact, set up a meet time, hopped in the Miata, and trekked to Arlington where we met up with the iPod Nano-selling guy. In a stroke of awesome luck which could only mean fortune was totally on our side, I noted our Craigslister had a Miata, too. Dude! Right?! A Miata! Like us! A common bond! Yes! That iPod was OURS, for less than the asking price, I just KNEW it.

With careful maneuvering, we cultivated the relationship. What year was his Miata? How long had he owned it? Did it have the flip-up headlights? What? The headlights have to be left flipped up in icy or snowy weather or they would stick shut? We did not know that. Our model had non-flippy-uppy headlights. Did he commute in his? Did his Miata get awesome gas mileage, like ours did?

For the most part, I let TGIM take the lead, because, you know, cars? As I listened to TGIM and the Craigslister grow closer—bond vehicularly, if you will—I mentally prepared myself to talk him down twenty dollars or so. I could do it. He loved us! We were Miata people! He felt a kinship with us! I could tell! He was putty in our hands! Mwah ha ha!

So involved were my machinations—perhaps even thirty dollars under the asking price was within my grasp!—I didn’t hear what TGIM was saying until it was too late.

“Yeah, the guys at work laugh when they see me getting in and out of the Miata,” he said.

Oh NO.

I tried to catch his eye, tried to stop him, but it was already spilling out of his mouth, the story he knew he shouldn’t share. I’d let him bond too long. He had run out of small talk and was cracking under the pressure.

With a somewhat hysterical laugh, TGIM continued. “Heh heh! They’re always like, ‘Hey! Want a little KY Jelly to help you get in and out of that thing?!’ Ha ha ha!”

Damn. Also, awkward.

Uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by a small intake of breath as I opened my mouth to say something—anything!—to get the conversation back on track, but… I had nothing. With a sigh, I forked over the asking price for the iPod and let the guy make his escape. Which he made swiftly, and without even a backward glance, I might add.

TGIM and I climbed into the Miata in silence. He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the car. I could feel him staring at me, but I looked straight ahead in stony silence. Finally, “Too much?” he asked innocently.

I turned and looked him straight in the eyes. “Ya think?!”

He sighed dramatically. “Thought so.”

“Honestly, TGIM,” I said, “what have I told you about the Guys At Work stories?!” Without waiting for an answer, I continued, “Don’t tell them, that’s what! GOSH. I could have talked him down thirty dollars! Well, probably twenty… but thirty was NOT out of the question! Okay, maybe only ten dollars, but still! It could have happened!”

We sat in silence for a moment, TGIM looking contrite while I glared at him. Then, of course, I giggled.

TGIM smiled in response. “Sorry. I just… panicked.”

“You are SUCH a nerd,” I said before dissolving into outright laughter. I mean, honestly. We’d still scored a super slamming deal on a 5th generation iPod Nano, so where was the bad?

We laughed all the way home.

Yep. That’s my TGIM. Winning friends and influencing people. Then, not so much.

So Unpopular

Someone just unsubscribed from my blog?! What the…?! Honestly. I just received an email that was all, “Hey, you suck. So someone has just totally unsubscribed from your blog. Yeah. That’s right, loser. Just so you know.” Except not in those exact words. Mostly, just in words like, “Unsubscribe notice: [insert email address here] has unsubscribed from Desperate Working Momma. Loser.” For real! Except for the “loser” part. But whatever, I understand the subtle nuance of the unsubscribe notice. I’m no fool. Truth.

Honestly. Unbelievable. Such a shock! I mean, truth be told, I had no idea anyone was still SUBSCRIBED to my blog.

Imagine my surprise, yo?

Sunshine Day!

You know those days? You know… the awesome days? The sunshiney days Greg, Marsha, and the rest of the Brady gang memorialized in song? The days in which everything seems to go your way? Like, you wake up early enough to eat breakfast before leaving for work, so you start the day with a healthy meal and absolutely NOT vending machine Pop Tarts and a Diet Coke? Because, ew? And people are super pleasant on the train and don’t glare at you and get all huffy when you—totally by accident!—poke them with your extra long knitting needles which perhaps you aren’t entirely comfortable with yet and may be wielding a bit haphazardly? PERHAPS? And you remember to clip on your PIV card and your many building swipe cards and security badges before you head to a different floor to hand-deliver a report? And you don’t get all stuck and panicky in the stairwell until you remember that if you run all the way down to the lobby you may be able to catch the elevator back to your floor with someone who did NOT forget said security cards and whatnot? And you can get back to your desk any time you want, and do not find yourself outside the office door knocking on the glass until someone—who all the while is obviously judging you for being so careless—comes by to let you in? And you absolutely can’t wait to see what else such an awesome day will bring you, and you DON’T want to crawl into a hole with your Diet Coke and Pop Tarts until the angry, entirely NOT awesome day just goes AWAY? You know? Those days?

Today is so not one of those days.

Stupid Encyclopedia of Immaturity

Hannah: “Momma, if you say ‘gullible’ reeeeaally slowly it sounds like ‘green beans’!”

Cat: “Guuuuull-iiiii… crap.”

Honestly. Damn that wild hair that compelled me to give my daughter the stupid Klutz Encyclopedia of Immaturity for Christmas. Damn it to hell!

Also, heh.

Booty Shaking and Hair Tossing

Hannah, whilst singing most enthusiastically along with Metro Station’s “Shake it” which was blaring from the car radio:

“‘Shake shake, shake shake, shake your BOOTAY! Shake shake…” (turned to Alli, who was also belting out the tune) “C’mon Alli, WORK those curls!”

Okay. She may have taken some liberties with with Metro Station’s lyrics– but honestly, “shake it” IS somewhat vague, truth– but you have to admire her energy!

Yep. That’s my girl. Shaking her booty and working those curls.

*proud*

Knee-Jerk Pop Culture

You know that thing that happens when an innocent comment from someone triggers some sort of finely honed pop culture reflex and you respond by spitting out some obscure quote from a movie or television show? And sometimes people laugh? Because it is super funny? And sometimes people just smile and scoot slowly away and secretly think you are kind of weird because you never make any sense? Because they are obviously not serious about their street cred with the pop culture demo? You know how that happens?

Well, sometimes, thankfully, that innocent comment comes via email. Because when someone at work sends you an email that says, “Thanks. I think I got it in there,” and the completely reflexive “Did I say that out LOUD?!” response happens to be, “That’s what SHE said!”… well, it’s good to have a filter. I’m only saying.

In other news, I am a bad, bad person.

Crouching Tiger, Metro-Style

Ah, yes.

This afternoon I got very out of control and played chicken with the Metro car’s sliding doors (which, incidentally are NOT like elevators doors, in that if you happen to get caught in them, they do NOT bounce back open, don’t ask me how I know, I just DO) because I was super tired and hungry and grumpy and a little stressed about the four mile run I still had to do– on an empty stomach, no lie! in the COLDNESS– and I totally HAD to get home, GOSH. So the warning chimes were ding-dinging and the recorded voice was all, “Doors closing,” but I was like, “Aw, hell to the no!”

Honestly. Only my mad ninja skills prevented me from a near crushing between absurdly quick-closing subway doors.

Take THAT, Metro railway car!

Fooyah.

“So you had a good day.”

Ah, good day. I ran 5K with Paige and then we spent the rest of the evening knitting super cool wristers (yes, SUPER COOL), eating Hershey’s kisses, and watching old episodes of “Lie to Me.”

Oh! But… not a 5K RACE! No indeed! That would have involved registration fees and fancy new running clothes and other craziness. Just… you, know, 5 kilometers. Or translated to metric-hatin’ American distance, 3.1 miles. Of course, truth be told, I actually ran 3.75 miles, but 5K was way easier to say, albeit a bit on the braggy, pretentious, metric-lovin’ side. Just a smidge. Perhaps.

Well, it was easier to say until I felt compelled to clarify, of course, at which time I realized I should have just said 3.75 miles in the first place. Total fail.

Still… good day. Yep.

(The wrister in all its glory. Behold, the awesomeness.)

I’m right… once in a blue moon.

Happiness is spending the better part of an evening arguing with TGIM about whether 2010 is REALLY the start of a new decade, or if it begins NEXT year.

I maintain that 2010 does indeed usher in the start of a new decade and that TGIM and Wikipedia can suck it.

(Hey. We don’t have cable, so we have to make our own fun.)