kiss-my-kitty

bought a dress today. This isn't a shocking event for most women, obviously, but anyone that knows me would be bowled over to hear of my purchase. Why? Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I have been doing my best to stay out of dresses for going on twenty years. My mom re-tells the story often enough: by first grade, I was fighting her tooth and nail over wearing skirts, dresses, jumpers, stockings and knee-high socks with those atrocious ruffles and bits of lace around the tops. Finally she threw in the towel, figuring it wasn't a battle worth fighting. And so I skipped happily off to school each day, wearing leggings and pants and jeans with t-shirts and sweatshirts and hoodies and sweaters.

And here I am, going on twenty-four years of age, and I'm still like that. Open up my closet and drawers and you'll find lots of jeans, casual tops, and stylish/trendy tops that would barely fit under the umbrella of "business casual". I live in sneakers in the winter, and flip-flops in the summer.

Don't get me wrong, I do have some "business casual" things stowed away in my closet: a few pairs of black pants, a few pairs of pinstripe pants, three pairs of khaki pants, two shirts comprised of red sweaters stitched to a white long-sleeved cuffed and collared shirt (the khaki pants and red shirts were perfect for my Target days, which was my original reason for buying them), and I think a skirt or two. Or three. There's also a dress purchased at Fashion Bug, years ago, on clearance -- $5. It's simple, short-sleeved, v-necked, done in colors of very pale gold, darker gold, with a swirling pattern of leaves and swirls topped with random sprinklings of gold glitter. It's perfect for an outing on a fall day, but not much else.

I am horribly ill-equipped for anything that requires "dressing up". For my grandmother's funeral, I wore a dark, gun metal gray skirt and a thick, black sweater. But I didn't have a slip, or even freaking PANTYHOSE. I had to go out to Wal-mart at 11pm on the night before Christmas Eve for PANTYHOSE. I stood in line for AN HOUR AND A HALF to pay for said pantyhose.

Last week Dan sprung a last minute (as in, I was told that morning) invitation to some sort of gathering for some employees of his company. He mentioned dinner and an open bar at a restaurant that had the word "tavern" in it. Heh. I paired a nice top (one of the ones that barely qualifies as business casual) with dark denim jeans and sneakers (sneakers!) and off we went (he was in dark denim jeans and a green and white striped polo shirt).

We arrive. It's a catering affair. We walk in and we're clearly sticking out like two sore thumbs. Out of the fifty or so people that gathered there that evening, we were two of maybe five or six people that wore anything less than dresses, skirts, suits and high heels. The other underdressed schmucks made a beeline for our table when they saw our very casual attire. So we hung together, clung together, and felt idiotic together.

So today, having that incident in the back of my mind, I decided to buy a dress at Target. I liked it on the hanger, and thought it would be nice to have something a little dressy for spring (it's a spaghetti-strap style dress, but a shrug or cardigan could easily convert it to April-appropriate attire!) and summer. I'm kind of set now... I have that autumnish dress I described earlier, several pairs of black and pinstriped pants, and some business casual tops that go nicely with all of them.

So, will I wear it for no reason whatsoever? Probably not, except to shock the pants off of Dan. But it is pretty, and so in my closet it goes. :)

Several weeks ago Dan compared our kitchen sink's soap dispenser's method of plopping out a bouncy, slightly jiggly wad of soap into your hand to how, well... there's really no way to phrase this delicately, so I'll just go ahead and slap up a TMI WARNING RIGHT HERE and say that he compared it to a penis ejaculating a bouncy, slightly jiggly wad of you-know-what (spooge? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?).

Thanks ever so much for that comparison, darling. Now I can't use the soap dispenser at the kitchen sink (which I do at least ten times a day, or so it seems) without drawing a parallel between the two. Not what I want to be thinking about when I'm prepping dinner, or washing up before eating lunch. Yech!

An online friend, Sarah, recently opened her own online shop for girls' hair accessories, 2 lil Angels Boutique. She explains the reason for starting her own online shop:

She was disappointed in the cheap accessories offered in retail stores, and could never find that perfect finishing touch from other online boutiques.

I can definitely agree with that! When Alyssa was younger, it was very difficult to find hair accessories that were made with quality materials and made to last, and then to find ones that were appealing! Even now, it can be a struggle to find bows, bands and barrettes that can withstand the vigorous activities of a three and a half year old whirlwind.

So when Sarah asked if I would like to try out some of her products with Alyssa, I was more than happy to oblige! I had already been checking out her boutique, and looking over the various available colors and trying to come up with some nice combinations. (I also have my eye on the custom tutus, but don't tell Alyssa! I think she'd explode before being able to wait until her fourth birthday -- October -- for one!)

Alyssa couldn't wait to try out the three hair accessories from 2 lil Angels Boutique:

She liked the small patterned bow.

She really loved the white Shallyn Bow.

But was sort of "meh" about thePunky Pink Clippie.

But that's okay, because I like it, and it works great with my hair!

So now that I've told you what Alyssa thinks of the hair accessories, you may be wondering what I think of them. Well, I really like them! The patterns available are adorable, and the bows themselves are put together very well. Even with me fussing with them, Alyssa putting them in and taking them out several times, and Ryan yanking a bow out of her hair this morning, they're still looking as good as new! The fasteners -- french barrette for the bows and alligator clip for the Clippie -- are firmly attached to the bows, and do quite well with keeping a hold of Alyssa's thick hair. :) So I am definitely a sold... any hair accessory that can hold up to being mauled at repeatedly is good as gold in my book!

Alcohol, apparently, makes you very, very horny (I was also ovulating, so I was just one big pile of DO ME NOW! last night, heh). And then, it makes you very, very sleepy. So I didn't blog last night like I intended to. It wasn't very late when I was making the choice between blogging/working and going to sleep, but nevertheless sleep won out.

Anyway! I have some work to hurry up and knock out, and then I'll be back with a blog entry, pictures from last night, and photos for a new review I have. See you soon! :)

I turn 24 on June 13th, and my mom and husband have been asking me what I'd like for birthday gifts, and belated Mother's Day gifts. I really want a flash for my Nikon D40x digital camera, a larger hard drive for my laptop, and a new stereo for my car. But I think I also want a GPS system. I go to unknown destinations maybe once or twice a month, and it would be nice to not have to worry about printing out directions from MapQuest and Google Maps and hoping that they're accurate. GPS systems are neat with their interactive, often 3-d maps, and turn by turn directions. So... should I get Tom-Tom? Or Garmin?

When people (online) realize that calling me fat fails as an insult, they target my husband. The insult slung at him? He's gay. Gay, gay, gay. Gay with a big, fat, bolded, underlined, blinking G. In the closet, man loving, fantasizing about big, hairy cocks and swinging testicles gay.

I just want to know: why?

Honestly, I'm amused by the insult. He is too. Since, you know... he's so clearly NOT gay. Being with me for almost eight years (married for close to four), siring two children, having sex with me multiple times a week, etc., etc.

So why the gay?

And why use gay as an insult? Being gay isn't something bad...

We got a mailing from the IRS yesterday, labeled as "STIMULUS PAYMENT", which sent me running back to the house and squealing for Dan to come sign the check so I could take it to the bank. However, it was just a clever ruse by the IRS, probably by some twit in a cubicle that thought it would be absolutely hilarious to screw with people.

That mailing that had "STIMULUS PAYMENT" written on the back of it? It was a notice, letting us know that we could expect our check by 05/16/08 -- this Friday.

But... on the back of the notice, beneath blurbs about how our payment was calculated, general info on qualifying children, blah di blah di blah, was this:

Under Review
Your stimulus payment has been delayed for review. If you do not receive your stimulus payment or a notice explaining the delay within 60 days, call us at 1-866-234-2942.

I've looked around and asked around online, and the general consensus seems to be Who Knows? It could be held for review, or the review message could be generalized. Or it could have been held for review, but is coming by the 16th, the date stated on the front.

I could nag Dan to call the IRS (his social security number is listed first on our tax returns, so I'm assuming the IRS will only talk to him), but I know the hold time would probably be insane right now...

Let's get right to it: it's time to announce the winner of the 2008-2009 momAgenda Desktop in Fuschia, which is generously being provided by momAgenda!

And... the winner is...

*drumroll*

Congratulations Caitlin! I will be contacting you to collect your shipping information. I'm sure that you will love your new momAgenda desktop!

For those interested, momAgendas, other home organizers, gifts and accessories can be purchased at momagenda.com!
If you're not a mom, check out the myAgenda! It's just like the momAgenda, only minus the mom parts. :)

I picked out a Father's Day card for my dad today. It's hard to pick out a card for a father who has let you down due to things that were within his control, and also out of his control. I stood there in Target, scanning all of the Father's Day cards, feeling my heart breaking and wanting to cry as I quickly passed over the ones about Daddy's little girl and Daddy being a hero and this and that.
It took me almost a half an hour to find a card that still is half ass at describing the relationship I have with my father.

Hi. I'm that stereotypical daddyless girl from a broken home, the daddyless girl I pray to god my daughter never winds up having to be.

My parents split when I was six. Smart decision, given the circumstances, but that doesn't make my pretty much fatherless existence any easier to cope with. I talk to my father perhaps six times a year, and see him maybe half that. It isn't for lack of trying on my part. I can tell you stories of the summer of 2002, when I was dealing with a lot and tried for two months straight to get a hold of him. I called every single day, and wrote every week. Or how about the winter of 2004, when I wanted to make sure he was even still ALIVE, and made the trip down to Philly to pound his apartment door down until he answered. At that point it had been six years since I had seen him, and I barely recognized him. Scratch that. I didn't recognize him at all. I apologized to the man in the bathrobe for disturbing him, and started to walk away when he spoke, and I remembered his voice and turned back.

He promises to call. To write. To send cards. He never does. I dutifully send cards for the holidays, and update letters and photos every month or two. If I go down in person, and manage to catch him when he's home and awake, then he acts as if nothing is wrong, apologizes for not calling or writing ("I meant to", "I got sidetracked", "I forgot", "I never got around to picking up stamps"), and talks my ear off for the next few hours, since obviously there's a lot of catching up to do.
And then it's the broken promises, all over again. To call. To write. To send cards.

Last year he had the nerve to get upset and act hurt because I forgot to send him a Father's Day card.
I haven't received a card from him in over five years...

I'm going to be twenty-four in exactly one month. You'd think that by now I wouldn't let this bother me the way that it sometimes does. You'd think I'd finally understand, that I'd get it, and just surrender to what's meant to be, for whatever reason, and refuse to dwell and insist on moving on.

But it isn't that easy. It isn't.

I envy Alyssa, for the beautiful relationship she has with Daniel. When she's older and understands, I'm going to tell her to be thankful every single day of her life for her father and the fact that he is in her life and with her, and to tell him she loves him all of the time. It's the least she can do. Especially since I always tell my dad that I love him, and I don't have him with me like she does Dan.

Blech. I'm sorry for the late night ramblings about such a mopey subject, but I'm sitting here addressing the Father's Day card that I finally chose for my father, and everything came bubbling up.

P.S. The Win a momAgenda contest is now closed. A winner will be chosen and announced on Tuesday afternoon.

The contest to win a 2008-2009 momAgenda ends tonight at 11:59pm EST! If you haven't already entered, check out the official contest post, Win a momAgenda!