So there I was, serenely having a snack, and suddenly all hell broke loose. Among the cacophonous sounds of my friends screaming I suddenly realized I was being chased. Before I knew it I was being half-dragged and half-carried by my ankles, restrained by all my appendages. It was terrifying. It all happened so quickly there was no time to think, no time to formulate a plan.
Some say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Others speak of a tunnel with a light at the end. It turns out that I am an out of body kind of girl. Frankly, from the atrocities I witnessed upon my body, the tunnel sounds really really good. But you know, it turns out we don't get to choose. Out of body it was. I watched as I was stripped, disemboweled and enclosed in a bag. Into refrigeration I went with the rest of my friends in a giant vile morgue. Eventually we were separated, which didn't matter at all, really. It's not like there's any camaraderie among the dead. If any of them were out of body, they weren't visible to me. They probably got the tunnel. Lucky bitches.
The atrocities that followed our separation were truly unspeakable. My corpse was pummelled and mangled beyond belief. I can't even recount the heinous acts performed upon my former self. If it had been possible not to watch, I would have stopped. Alas though, it was not. But eventually it all became clear. As I floated over the unrecognizable pile of bones and flesh and viewed the happy consumers of, well....me, I realized my purpose. And it made me feel content for the first time. Suddenly I felt warm and happy and there was a light and a tunnel and all that stuff they tell you about when you die. And I went.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Maybe at that OTHER discount store.....
One day a few years ago, on my regularly scheduled trip to Target, I made my regularly scheduled trip to the bathroom in said Target. I don't know about you but there are certain places that just make me have to go to the bathroom. My basement, my garage and quite often, Target. But anyway.
Upon entering, I noticed three girls huddled around the sink. As a mom, my first instinct was to demand to know what they were up to, but I reminded myself that none of these girls are on my mothering list, so...no. As I entered a stall, I did register their general look--mid-teens, a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, jeans cut a little too tight and a lot too low, wacky hair colors with three inches of roots and a whole bunch of visible ratty bra straps.
Sadly, I did kind of judge them by their appearance, then harshly reminded myself that I have known many spectacular girls who presented themselves in a not so spectacular fashion at that age. So, mental hand-slapping on my part.
At the sink I could hear the rustling of paper and some random comments:
"Here, use this part."
"Yeah, it's right here."
"Don't worry, there's more than one."
Then the closing of a stall door and:
"I can't pee."
"Well, don't waste it. Let's go get you something to drink."
"No, she can't drink a lot. It won't work."
"She can drink a little. It'll be okay."
As I washed my hands, the girls packed their paraphernalia into purses and moved towards the door. The last one smiled at me as she held the door open. I thanked her and wondered how many teen aged girls find out they're pregnant in the bathroom of a Target store.
Upon entering, I noticed three girls huddled around the sink. As a mom, my first instinct was to demand to know what they were up to, but I reminded myself that none of these girls are on my mothering list, so...no. As I entered a stall, I did register their general look--mid-teens, a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, jeans cut a little too tight and a lot too low, wacky hair colors with three inches of roots and a whole bunch of visible ratty bra straps.
Sadly, I did kind of judge them by their appearance, then harshly reminded myself that I have known many spectacular girls who presented themselves in a not so spectacular fashion at that age. So, mental hand-slapping on my part.
At the sink I could hear the rustling of paper and some random comments:
"Here, use this part."
"Yeah, it's right here."
"Don't worry, there's more than one."
Then the closing of a stall door and:
"I can't pee."
"Well, don't waste it. Let's go get you something to drink."
"No, she can't drink a lot. It won't work."
"She can drink a little. It'll be okay."
As I washed my hands, the girls packed their paraphernalia into purses and moved towards the door. The last one smiled at me as she held the door open. I thanked her and wondered how many teen aged girls find out they're pregnant in the bathroom of a Target store.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Real men....
Real men wear pants....or shorts. Maybe sweats. Sometimes kilts, depending on where they live.
Real men hold the door open for the person behind them. When they are behind someone holding a door for them, they say "Thank you."
Real men watch sports like football and baseball and hockey on TV...if they like those sports. They might also watch sitcoms, softball, cheerleading, movies or musicals. Sometimes they just watch what the rest of the household wants to see. Or they can read a book or do the crossword. Whatever.
Real men wear pink. Sometimes a real man doesn't like pink, so he wears something else, depending on his current needs and wants. These include but are not limited to the man's comfort level with the color in question, its level of attractiveness on him, its current state of cleanliness and its ability to hide stains. It could also be at the top of the pile. For some guys, dressing is not rocket surgery.
Real men eat quiche. Unless they are on a diet, or don't like quiche, or are lactose intolerant, or are allergic to eggs, or have no quiche available. Then they eat something else.
Real men cry. Especially when someone they love dies or when they're really worried or frightened or when they have something stuck under their contact or when they have a broken limb.
Real men fight for what they believe in. A real man can do this without ever throwing a punch.
Real men vacuum. They do dishes. Sometimes while their spouse is mowing the lawn.
Real men raise kids who grow up to be real men and women.
Real men hold the door open for the person behind them. When they are behind someone holding a door for them, they say "Thank you."
Real men watch sports like football and baseball and hockey on TV...if they like those sports. They might also watch sitcoms, softball, cheerleading, movies or musicals. Sometimes they just watch what the rest of the household wants to see. Or they can read a book or do the crossword. Whatever.
Real men wear pink. Sometimes a real man doesn't like pink, so he wears something else, depending on his current needs and wants. These include but are not limited to the man's comfort level with the color in question, its level of attractiveness on him, its current state of cleanliness and its ability to hide stains. It could also be at the top of the pile. For some guys, dressing is not rocket surgery.
Real men eat quiche. Unless they are on a diet, or don't like quiche, or are lactose intolerant, or are allergic to eggs, or have no quiche available. Then they eat something else.
Real men cry. Especially when someone they love dies or when they're really worried or frightened or when they have something stuck under their contact or when they have a broken limb.
Real men fight for what they believe in. A real man can do this without ever throwing a punch.
Real men vacuum. They do dishes. Sometimes while their spouse is mowing the lawn.
Real men raise kids who grow up to be real men and women.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Go Team Go!
It's mid-October and we are well into college football season. I am not a big time sports fan by any means but to me, college football is a phenomenon unto itself. It's such a cliche but the total experience is just so darn fun, I can't help but love it. Of course it doesn't hurt that mine is a Big Ten team. I don't know what I mean by that because every fan loves watching their team, tailgating before their team's game, cheering for their team. Who ever says, "Yeah I love MY team but there are so many others that are so much better. Other conferences are much better as well. We're really number 47 at best among schools of our size and frankly our conference is maybe the 14th best"? No, it's WE'RE NUMBER ONE! and that's okay. You gotta love what you love.
Really when I think about it, the idea of 70,000+ people crowding into a stadium to watch a bunch of kids (who are the same age as my kids) play a sport is a little absurd. The guys who sit near us who know SO much more than the coaches would probably pummel anyone who spoke about their kid the way they scream about the kids on the field. But that's all part of it. I get that.
The beauty of it all is that there are so many things that occur in every stadium, sometimes in every section of every stadium. Like the guy who wears the same thing, down to the face paint, every single game. That guy has probably worn the same underwear to every game since 1985.
There's the shrill-voiced woman who knows every word to every school song ever and wants everyone to know it.
There's the guy who wants them to "Run it again!" Every play. Every single play.
There is the couple who brings stinky sandwiches and eats their way through the game.
There's the guy who doesn't think the section is properly fired up and instructs us en masse how to be better fans.
There's the cute chick who knows NOTHING about football and thinks that right now is the time to learn.
The gorilla in a referee shirt.
The blue or green dudes.
The college guys (and girls) with their chests painted in an encouraging manner.
The rich alumni who are too rich to stand up for anything but the national anthem.
The person who should have stopped drinking one and a half beers ago, and...
The unfortunate person sitting in front of them.
And then there are the 48 people (in a row of 40) who have to pee and/or visit the concession stand within minutes of kickoff.
Did I miss anyone? I'm sure I did...sorry! But we love you too and the game just wouldn't be the same without you. Even if you are annoying.
RUN IT AGAIN!
So, yeah, football season is a good time. Hanging out with friends and family and maybe running into old college pals. Good times. So when events unfold as they did at last weekend's game, good times become spectacular. Check this out:
This is the second year in a row that we've striped the stadium...it was so cool last year and this year was even better.
Then came the card tricks:
It's even better here
And finally, because it was our only home night game of the year, I guess they had to cram all the awesome they could into one night. Every time we scored:
I know, I know...of all the several people who read this, some of you are not going to be Iowa fans! I get that and it's okay. But if you have any affection in your heart for college football, you have to admit that this stuff is pretty flippin' fantastic and we'll probably be seeing more of it. Just remember who you have to thank for it! Go Hawks!
Really when I think about it, the idea of 70,000+ people crowding into a stadium to watch a bunch of kids (who are the same age as my kids) play a sport is a little absurd. The guys who sit near us who know SO much more than the coaches would probably pummel anyone who spoke about their kid the way they scream about the kids on the field. But that's all part of it. I get that.
The beauty of it all is that there are so many things that occur in every stadium, sometimes in every section of every stadium. Like the guy who wears the same thing, down to the face paint, every single game. That guy has probably worn the same underwear to every game since 1985.
There's the shrill-voiced woman who knows every word to every school song ever and wants everyone to know it.
There's the guy who wants them to "Run it again!" Every play. Every single play.
There is the couple who brings stinky sandwiches and eats their way through the game.
There's the guy who doesn't think the section is properly fired up and instructs us en masse how to be better fans.
There's the cute chick who knows NOTHING about football and thinks that right now is the time to learn.
The gorilla in a referee shirt.
The blue or green dudes.
The college guys (and girls) with their chests painted in an encouraging manner.
The rich alumni who are too rich to stand up for anything but the national anthem.
The person who should have stopped drinking one and a half beers ago, and...
The unfortunate person sitting in front of them.
And then there are the 48 people (in a row of 40) who have to pee and/or visit the concession stand within minutes of kickoff.
Did I miss anyone? I'm sure I did...sorry! But we love you too and the game just wouldn't be the same without you. Even if you are annoying.
RUN IT AGAIN!
So, yeah, football season is a good time. Hanging out with friends and family and maybe running into old college pals. Good times. So when events unfold as they did at last weekend's game, good times become spectacular. Check this out:
This is the second year in a row that we've striped the stadium...it was so cool last year and this year was even better.
Then came the card tricks:
It's even better here
And finally, because it was our only home night game of the year, I guess they had to cram all the awesome they could into one night. Every time we scored:
I know, I know...of all the several people who read this, some of you are not going to be Iowa fans! I get that and it's okay. But if you have any affection in your heart for college football, you have to admit that this stuff is pretty flippin' fantastic and we'll probably be seeing more of it. Just remember who you have to thank for it! Go Hawks!
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