December 2007 Archives

Who knew that this guy would be my focus for a a whole year? Especially since he only has half a face...

Last year I was reading my cool magazine, All You. It's for real peeps. Their tag on their January issue said, "Make this year your 'I DID IT' Year." It caught my attention, because really, when you put it that way... And so, I did as the magazine instructed me, I DID IT! My New Years Resolution may have very well been the first time I accomplished the task I set. And then I did pretty good at it. Last year's resolution was to get on stage and do comedy. It was probably the most ballsy resolution I've ever set.

Getting on stage and sticking with it all year was a huge growing experience for me. The last time I hung out with 20 year old guys till the late hours of night in a bar was well, when I was in my twenties. I learned a lot about how old I am. That wasn't so fun. Mostly, what I learned, was off the stage: I learned that I am a well-taken care of woman. I know a lot of ladies that need some time to themselves. They are totally selfless. They do everything for their children and husband. Holla girls! There's some ladies out there, who aren't married and/or don't have kids and they too are the most selfless people I know. I am not one of those people.

I have plenty of me time. In fact, with the blog, my "working out", going to Mexico, scrapbooking, and doing comedy, hell, I don't even know how old my kids are, let alone what they are up to. At times it seems, these little suckers called kids are growing up so fast, they are so independent, it's as if I declared one day, "Hey, look at you kid! You can wipe you're own butt! Here's the keys to my car, and my cell number, only call it after you call 9-1-1. Mommy's going out for some me time. Bye!"

Mind you, my family has been overwelmingly supportive. Relatives have driven a few hours to see me. My husband has paid our nephew a small portion of his college fund as babysitting needs accrued. And when I kiss the kids right before they go to bed and say, "Mommy's going to fullfill a lifelong dream." Lucy gives me a big hug and tells me a joke to tell on stage. Love and support from a 5 year old.

The comedy gig, if taken seriously - and as funny as comedy is, it should be taken very seriously - takes a lot of time and energy. Although Ricardo's been pleased that it's the least of a financial burden of my hobbies, it's exhausting. You have to be committed to staying up until 2 or 3 a.m. 4 nights a week, and then waking up at the crack of noon and saying, "okay, it's gig time. What tshirt am I going to wear?" (---Most of that is from Jack Black...credit was due.) I don't have that luxury. Tack on my sweet little dramatic interpretation/channeling of Mommy Dearest tendencies when a) pressed for time b) distracted with trying to practice my comedy set c) tired from the night before or d) slightly stressed in the least bit with something else I have going on, and it's just not fair to my family. If I knew a way to balance it all, that'd be cool. Maybe I should call Brittney and ask how she does it....oh wait.

The thing is, I don't need mommy time. I did need to accomplish something I've always wanted to try. I did it, I got on stage. I'm fairly good. To get better, I have to do more, perform more, write more, and maybe move to LA or New York. So, I think I'll settle for average funny. Because, I'm fulfilled, folks. So, maybe I'll continue doing a few shows and competition. But for now, I'm going to be a mom, because I can, and it IS a luxury...most days.

I'm sure you're asking, So, Les, what kind of freakshow New Years Resolution do you have this year?" Well in THIS year's issue of All You, they tell you how to keep a New Years Resolution, of which the first tip is to write it down. (I realize we know this stuff already, but obviously, the reminder and review helps.) What better form of accountability than to blog it out? I think not only will I start writing the Resolution down every year, but write about how I succeeded or failed at it each year.

After extensive talks with my committee, (Ricardo), I've decided to establish the following New Years Resolution: Grow out my hair. Now, you men out there, sans Ricardo, maybe thinking, "You're going from getting on stage to growing your hair out? That's lame." And I say to you barbershop baldies, growing hair out for a woman is like waxing your back hairs. It's a committment, a hard commitment. After the first pull of the wax, you gotta keep going. You gotta go through with it, stick to it. And I don't do that well.

I figure if I set it as a goal for the whole year, maybe I'll stick with it. There's also ulterior motive: I'm sure it'll provide infinite wisdom and blogworthy posts. It's December 30th, and I think I need my split ends cut. But I'm going with it for now.

Oh sure, I'll get on stage too, and I'll try to lose the same weight I've been working off for the last two years. But for now, it's time to grow the hair out. It's a personal goal. Any tips would be greatly appreciated.

That's how I roll.

I beg of you. Turn me in to these people. I have plenty of challenges for these two. It'd make a great show. Please, turn me in.

About a month ago, I was whining about this fabulous trip to Mexico and nothing to wear. I'm pretty fashionista-unsavvy. And I'm tall. And like almost every other American woman who actually eats, dissatisfied with my jiggly junk in the trunk. Although, with this kick ass personality I've got, I'm totally okay with me. It all balances out.

So, I'm whining, to my girl, JulzHOLLA! who IS fashionista-savvy. And it just so happens we mostly wear the same size, and it also just so happens that she is NOT going to Mexico. So, she doesn't need her sundresses, bikinis, or sarongs right now. Even further, she's pregnant, and so, I can carelessly borrow these things because as she has stated, "It'll be a while until I can wear this stuff." I"m a bit slow to return things. So I just try not to borrow what I can't promise I'll get back immediately. It's a personal goal. I'm good with it.

JulzHOLLA! and I have been bestest buds, online girlfriends for wow, well, almost two years now. Happy Anniversary, hun. If you were a man, it would be about time to begin harrassing you about marriage. But since that's taken care of, maybe we should exchange gigantic diamond rings anyways, or get matching tattoos, or hey, how about lend each other clothes! The problem with the lending the clothes part is I will be the lendee and you the lender...seeing as how you don't want my What-Not-To-Wear wardrobe. Someone turn me in, please!

So, we've been pretty close pals for almost two years, and she has set out these clothes for me. As usual, to a fashion-moron such as myself, as the clothes lay on the bed in a pile, they don't really catch my attention. Us fashion-idiots, can't see mentally vision how it'll look on from a glance of what's on the rack. Even idioter, we hate trying on clothes. But I've promised JulzeHOLLA! to try them on. The kids are playing nice down in the basement, I get a whole wardrobe to try on, no kids hiding in the clothes racks and my girlpower pal to tell me how bad or good I look in all her clothes. And it's free, so maybe these clothes will look better.

I sigh, because I have to de-robe, and even all by myself with the door shut and no mirrors, I hate taking off clothes. Half of you readers are saying, "What's she talking about? I had no idea she hated her body so much." To you, I say, I don't hate my body, I just don't like to see it... The other half of my readers when you read how I hate trying on clothes because for a half a second I'm naked, and I'm not good with that. You are saying, "MMMM HMMM, I know girl!"

I start to try on the clothes, and they are just awesome! Every piece, just great! I am actually enjoying trying on the clothes. But I'm shocked because I had no idea she had such a sweet wardrobe. And she never told me!

"Julz, I had no idea you had such cute dresses and fancy clothes."

"Well, Les, I suppose we don't get out much together when we're dressed up, except maybe to Chuck E. Cheese, or the park."

"Good point."

And so it goes for us Stay-at-Home Moms.
That's how I roll.

A photo essay, by me.

When we researched this place, we kept reading "unlimited liquor dispenser" and could not imagine what they were talking about. I thought it'd be some little guy in the corner of our room at all times to poor freely and to our leisure. Alas, it was this:

For two days, this yacht was blocking my view of Lands End. And for two days, we had a blast guessing who was on that yacht. I obsessed about it really. Word on the streets was Adam Sandler was filming a movie here. So, our guesses for the residence of this boat were: Sandler, the king of France, or Tom Selleck. We knew it wasn't Britney, because she's too busy becoming the richest bum in America, and we've got her on Britney watch. Even better, we knew it wasn't her Nickolodeon sister Jamie Lynn...she's too busy with making a baby....isn't that statutory rape, by the way? I guess not in Hollywood. I'm guessing Spears Mommy book sales on Christian Motherhood are about to plummet considering she was letting her 16 year-old live with her 19 year-old boyfriend. Oh, that is just too golden.

What is Land's End Les? Well, here it is...

And here it is again. Ricardo is a bit ticked at me in this picture because somehow, I'd gotten sand in his beer. Meanwhile, I'm petrified, not that Ricardo is going to beat me for the sand in the beer thing, but that this guy braggin that "look at me, I can stand on my horse" is rubbing it in that indeed, horses hate me. I wonder how I say, "horses hate me" in spanish. They really do hate me.

When we drove in, we discovered that Cabo had changed a bit. We saw a Costco, Home Depot and Walmart. So, when we got to the resort and found this, I couldn't help giggle that indeed, it's perfect, and I know exactly where they got it! I love this Santa. I should have gone to their Walmart and gotten one of these for Omaha.

When I travel to the beach, I like to do two things: 1. Greet dad. More on that later. And 2. Something ridiculously crazy that I'd never do in a million years and usually risks my life. It's just what I do folks. When we were in Belize, we went swimming with sharks and snorkeling in sting ray alley. That was a few weeks before Steve Irwin was killed by what Ricardo likes to refer to as "Puppies in the ocean", if by puppies, you mean death, okay hunny. This year, we went zip-lining. What is zip-lining you say? Well, you get this little handle bar, and a couple of locals to take you out to a canyon, hand you a handle bar and a helmet and tell you how much fun you're going to have. I was mentally prepared for it, except my friend, who shall remain anonymous...HEATHER, never mentioned there'd be RAPELLING. Hanging and riding on a cable over a canyon is much different than jumping over a cliff with a rope and some guy named Pedro with more of a California Surfer accent laughing as he tells you to trust him...that's different. And I was not okay with this. So, this is me, arguing with Diego, that I'll do it, but I refuse to have fun, is all I'm sayin.

After ziplining and rapelling, nothing completes an adventure tour like a tour of their tequila. Right? Pure agave, blah blah blah....where's the taste test table? It was good tequila. I think the Mexican folk had fun with Ricardo. They put him in this holster....

If you ever have a chance to see seals up close...run the other way. I don't do well on a boat. Let's just say, back in my dad's offshore fishing days, I provided a lot of chum. Eww. So, we're on a boat, in the Sea of Cortez, and the tour guide takes us out to the pacific side. Now I'm in the PACIFIC OCEAN, we're rocking back and forth, and all in the name of seeing these smelly creatures bask in the sun. They STINK! And I'm rocking....back....forth....up......down. I must have turned blue at some point, because he got back to the Sea of Cortez pretty quick. Ricardo got this picture of the lone seal. It's on the last rock, the VERY end of Land's End. If you look real closely, there's a dolphin poking his cute little bottle-nose out of the water. He jumped for us a few times.

This is the beautiful arch on Land's End, due to tricky angles, you can't see the arch from the beach. You have to get a boat and go see it. It's worth it. I now have proof that we're all going to die of global warming, because the Arch used to be a beach. Not so much anymore. When you look through the arch, you see the Pacific Ocean. It's pretty cool.

When my dad died, we took his ashes out to Belize. He loved the ocean, nature, sunsets, and a good Johnny Walker Red & Water. So, since all waters are connected, and since my Dad took me out to Cabo 15 years ago, I found it compelling to greet him with a drink of Johnny Walker Red & Water. We said hello to him when we got there, and goodbye before we left. I never thought I'd feel so close to him, even after his death. It's a great bond. That, and I'm sure he had a good laugh when I bellied up to the bar at 7a.m. for a double of scotch. He must be so proud! So, I call this one, "Visiting Dad for the Holidays"

The rest of my pictures are not to be published. They're THAT good!
That's how I roll.

My very insightful mother-in-law told me when I was pregnant that RIcardo and I would spend many years talking about pooh. Frequency. Consistency. "Man, you should have seen what Baby A did today!" type of deal.

She was right. But nothing has prepared me for my conversations with strangers, nor monetary transactions involving pooh. It's Farley the Wonder Dog. Again.

The dialogue started with a call to the vet. Something like this:
Me to the poor lady who answers the phones at the vet: "Yes, Farley is on Prozac. And he seems to be happy, a bit over exuberantly happy. So happy in fact, he's pleasing himself. The dog is bragging...licking himself a lot."

Poor lady who answers the phones at the vet: "Um, ok. Is he licking 'himself' or his butt?"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME!?" is what I wanted to respond with. But then I realized, indeed, he was licking his butt. "Wow. I guess it's his butt. Once he gets to that end, I guess I don't really pay attention to the details."

Still poor lady: "Okay, well, that's probably not the prozac. It might be his anal glands. He probably just needs have them expressed. When can you bring him in, and then if that's not it, we'll need to analyze his poop."

"Watchootalkinabout?" - Fine, I didn't say that. But my mother-in-law's words were ringing in my head, years after potty training, when will this pooh talk ever end?

So, I take him in to the vet. And I learned way too much about expressing anal glands than I ever thought possible. So much in fact, I think this may be a two part post.

That's how I roll.

I call it Nascar Slut Barbie. It'd be perfect if she didn't have any teeth and a tattoo showing on her thigh, dont' you think? You know...this kind of looks like Jeff Gordon's ex-wife, now that I think about it... I can't believe I just said that. I know too much.

That's how I roll.

Yesterday, a selfish and sick man went into a mall in the Heartland, Omaha, and opened fire. Although I am almost certain that this happens in America, and as trite as it may seem, no one, including myself, thought this would happen here.

My family and friends here are safe and okay. As far as I know. As of printing time, we still don't have the names of the victims.

As I learned about this, I talked nicer to my kids and held them a little tighter. The odds that one of my friends, mostly stay-at-home-moms was at the mall are high. First of all, of all the play areas in the malls here, that's the mall with the coolest play area. Secondly, it's the holiday season, middle of the day, and although I do not enjoy shopping, stereotypically - us moms like to shop and take our kids to the mall.

Last night, I went to a girls night out, and held my breath that we would all show up. We did.

So, while I sit here and watch the news, I am sickened. This guy was sick. But when he notes that he is doing this to go out in style and to be famous, and the media appeases that request, I'm sickened mostly by the national media. Here, in the local media, I am impressed that the local media refuses to give this guy what he wanted. They've minimally repeated his name and outwardly said they won't be a part in making him famous. But the national media insists that we grieve as a nation by posting this guy's name and picture up with a constant reminder that he wanted to be famous. I woke this morning to see Omaha, Nebraska and a picture of this guy getting endless amounts of screen time. "The largest single-handed massacre in Nebraska" according to Matt Lauer. Well, guess what? You're doing it for him, idiots. And it's not that you're giving this guy exactly what he wanted, but you are encouraging future potential sick people on the brink of losing it that if they do the same thing, maybe kill a few more, that they'll get their fame too.

***Update Dec. 6 - I watched an entire NIGHTLINE show devoted to profiling this kid. I would hope that for everytime they mention his name, they mention the victim's name 10 times. And they should profile the victims instead. As consumer, I'd prefer to see the profiles of the victims. ***

I have a journalism background and I've reviewed this in my head for a while now. There's absolutely no journalistic responsibility to constantly post this kid's name up or his picture. As a society, we do not need to know why he did this. What we need to know as a society, is that our media has a responsibility to explain what happened to the victims and to give no tv screen attention to the suspect.

Why can't just one media venue step up and say, "We'll report the crime and the victims. We will not ever mention this kids' name nor his picture"? In hopes that a future fame-seeking mentally-ill student of how to commit heinous crimes from the media will not learn how to do it.

They have just released the names and ages of the victims, as I type. One name sounds familiar. No children were hurt. It was a mix of customers as well as employees. There's so much more, but for now please keep them in your prayers.

That's how I roll.