Hating The Player

MacCauley Culkin made it look so easy...

2008-09-18T19:11:00.000-05:00

So, I'm home alone. Mr. Kolby, who works for the Red Cross, was deployed last Thursday to Texas in preparation for Hurricane Ike. He'll be down there until next Thursday helping with the recovery effort. It's the longest we've ever been apart since we moved in together seven and a half years ago. I hate being without him.

I'm really proud of him and the work he does - he's actually helping people, and I know that he's making a difference. I'm just a giant baby, with a not-so-giant baby floating about in my belly, so I'm especially lonely right now. If it weren't for the ratties, I doubt I'd be sleeping at all. They're laying on and around me as I type this, and we're all sitting in the living room, surrounded by boxes that have yet to be unpacked, and, because I'm rather hefty these days and don't feel like making the exhausting effort required to get out of the recliner, we seem to be watching "America's Got Talent." Apparently this show is hosted by Jerry Springer. I don't know why, but this fact puzzles me more than David Hasselhoff's cheekbones or the lispy four-year old who seems to have made it pretty damn far in the competition. OK, that's it. I can't watch this garbage. I'm getting up if it kills me.

And the award for Worst Blogger, like, EVER, goes to...

2008-08-12T19:52:00.004-05:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You don't have to say it. I'm a shitty blogger. I can't believe it's been since late April since I've even looked at this place, and I've had so much going on that I barely noticed. It's not that I don't have anything on my mind, or that I'm not feeling inspired - I think it's more that I've been channeling my energy into this pregnancy (just entering the third trimester this week) and my brain has little room for much else.

So, anyway - what else is new? So much has been happening, it's all a blur. Besides adding to our family, Mr. Kolby and I bought a townhouse outside of the city - we close next week and move soon after - and Mr. Kolby started a new job. He's still with the Red Cross, but now he's the Disaster Liasion for New York State. Whenever something terrible happens, he's got to be there, and I'm so proud of how dedicated he is to helping other people and keeping them as safe as he keeps our family. We can't wait to move and start a brand new chapter in our lives!

And can we discuss just how damn expensive it is to have a baby? I mean, having the baby doesn't really cost anything - but all the crap you need once it's time to bring him home? Holy shit - no wonder people put this off as long as they do. We started a couple of baby registries, and we've got well over a hundred items on them - and we're putting off on picking out some things until we move. And the stores know you need this garbage, so they charge two arms and a leg for it all. And they can, because we all buy it. All I know is this: we're going to be kissing some serious familial ass for the next three months. Anything for a fucking stroller/carseat combo.

And Baby Makes Three (or Five if You Count the Dogs)

2008-04-27T20:02:00.003-05:00

Well, it looks like I'll be able to check off at least one accomplishment on my list of things to do in my 30th year! Mr. Kolby and I have been harboring a bit of a secret for the past three months, and it's such a relief to finally be able to say: I'm pregnant. 12 weeks pregnant, to be exact. We found out about two weeks after my birthday, and it's been a roller coaster ever since. You know, no one ever tells you just how frightening and nervewracking the first few weeks of pregnancy can be. I mean, you spend months and months trying to get pregnant, all the while thinking that once you see those little pink lines on the pregnancy test, everything will be sunshine and happiness. Not true. The first twelve weeks are damn scary - so much can go wrong, and while it's relatively rare for anything bad to actually happen, the thought is always in the back of your mind. So, now that we've cleared the first trimester hurdle, we're feeling more relaxed and excited about the next six months.

There is so much more to say, and I'll be updating the blog regularly, but right now I'm exhausted and scatterbrained and I have to pee....

Nothing to See Here...

2008-04-22T20:10:00.003-05:00

Well, it's been a while, and I still don't have much to post because my mind has been completely preoccupied with what's going on in my little life lately. I'll be back next week with all the details, but until then, here's what I threw together for dinner tonight. It was so good and I ate entirely too much. Please share in my gluttony, won't you?

Kolby's No-Name Pasta

1 lb Farfalle Pasta
1 pint heavy cream
1 cup grated parmagiano
1 15 ounce can of diced tomatoes, juice included
garlic powder, onion powder, salt & pepper to taste
chopped fresh parsley

While pasta is cooking (al dente please, none of that gummy, pasty shit allowed), heat cream in large skillet, adding spices and cheese after warmed. Stir grated cheese into cream until smooth. Add tomatoes and their juice. Heat through, stirring constantly. Stir in parsley and toss cooked pasta into sauce, stirring to coat evenly. Serve & enjoy!

*Try not to eat too much of this. Pasta tends to expand in the stomach, and I don't want to be responsible for any unnecessary trauma.

You Are What You Eat (And You Smell Like It Too)

2008-02-29T20:27:00.008-05:00

Is it possible to O.D. on canned tuna? I'm asking because I have this co-worker who eats three to four cans of tuna, sometimes mixed with a bowl of white rice, over the course of one workday. Every day. He also ingests protein shakes and various vitamin supplements (dude, he, like, works out), but it's the massive amounts of tuna that make me want to vomit. He opens these cans and the odor is sent wafting out of our little office kitchen and over the walls of our cramped grey pens. Three to four times a day. How healthy can this possibly be for my co-worker, who will hereafter be referred to as Chickenlegs of the Sea? I swear, this guy must have gallons of mercury coursing through his veins.

In my mind, I'm convinced that his skeleton is coated in metal, kind of like Wolverine but without the strength, snark and sex appeal.

Two Recipes, Both Heart-Stranglingly Delicious

2008-02-21T20:13:00.006-05:00

The possibility of a Pajiba Scrabble Sex Orgy in the near future has got me thinking - what kind of appetizers would naked nerds enjoy?

Here are two of my favorites:

Spicy Sausage Dip

1 package (tube?) Jimmy Dean Breakfast Sausage (I told you they'd be heart-strangling)
1 package cream cheese
1 can Ro-tel diced tomatoes with green chilies

Brown sausage in large skillet. Add cream cheese and melt, then add Ro-tel. Blend ingredients and heat through. Serve with tortilla or corn chips.

Sweet and Satisfying Spread

1 log of goat's cheese
1/2 cup craisins
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/4 -1/2 cup caramel sauce, warmed
1 baguette, sliced

Place cheese on large serving platter. Drizzle warmed caramel sauce over cheese, then sprinkle with nuts and craisins. Spread on baguette slices. Eat more than you planned because it's just that fucking scrumptious.

Fat Ass Vs. Lazy Ass

2008-02-21T11:20:00.008-05:00

Do I go home and eat leftover homemade gnocchi & meatballs (thanks Mom & Grandma!), or do I order in from the deli up the street with my coworkers? Going home would give me the opportunity to walk the dogs and save money. But ordering in allows me to sit at my desk and Pajiba all day.

This is a tough one.

Just Me and My Conan

2008-02-21T01:22:00.004-05:00

I can't sleep. At all. I don't even feel all that tired, so, let's recap the evening, shall we?

The hubs and I drove to the mall to assist the fabulous Ms. Kara in her quest to find the perfect outfit for a drag show she'll be attending this weekend. I learned two things while waiting for Kara to emerge from the dressing room: 1) drag queens must be quite picky about what the audience wears to their shows, and 2) Kara's legs are way too long. I'm actually not sure we can be friends anymore after seeing her in the mini-dress she ended up with.

After saying adieu to my friend, Mr. Kolby and I decided to head to Fuddrucker's for a burger (yes, I am aware that Fuddrucker's is not a Japanese steakhouse, which is where we were supposed to go - just bear with me). Fuddrucker's was insanely busy. On a Wednesday night. So, we climbed back into the car ( I should also mention that both Mr. Kolby and I become somewhat grumpy when deprived of food for any length of time) and drove to Friendly's. Friendly's was on a wait. On a Wednesday night. A wait. Yeah. So, we drove back to Fuddrucker's, because that's where my man reeeaaalllyy wanted to go. At this point, we were both ready to kill each other, and my excuse ("It's my birthday, you have to be nice to me!") was falling on deaf ears. Anyway, I walked up to the door and the line to the registers at Fuddrucker's was easily 75 feet long. I swear to you I was afraid to turn to my husband and tell him there was no way we'd be eating in under 40 minutes at Fudd's. He handled it pretty well, which is to say that he didn't shout obscenities at the toddler that was walking by at that moment. So, we got back into the car.

We ended up at Smokey Bones, a barbecue chain. It's actually not bad, especially since we're in Albany and decent barbecue is about as easy to come by as a New York politician with a conscience. Hee. Anyway, they were also on a wait, but I wasn't about to go anywhere else. So, we sat at the bar and had a damn good time. I got wasted from one margarita (yay for cheap dates!) and had a kick-ass burger. My man (we were back on speaking terms at this point - food always seems to help) had a couple of Guinnesses and some ribs. All was well in the world.

Except now I can't sleep. And Conan's gone!

Pass the Ben-Gay

2008-02-20T12:18:00.003-05:00

This is it. I'm 30 years old today. So far, it's been a pretty uneventful day. I didn't sleep very soundly last night because Mr. Kolby was in Syracuse for work, and my imagination tends to run wild when I'm alone in the dark. So, last evening, it was just me, the two rat terriers and the fat cat. Because of my imagination I have to sleep with the television on and facing the bedroom door. I only do this when I'm alone, and I think it stems from the effect watching Poltergeist had on me when I was 6. I had to check under the bed for months - you know, for clowns.

I woke up at 6:40 this morning with a headache and a pain in my butt. Honestly, I think I pulled a muscle near my tailbone. So, I have an actual pain in my ass. I can't even begin to imagine what I must have done in my sleep to tweak an ass tendon (or whatever I've got back there - I've never really bothered to examine the anatomy of my rear end). I guess this is what happens as we age - I just never expected it to happen so quickly.

So, I took the day off today. I'm just laying around, which is what I was planning on doing anyway, but now that it's all I can do, it's not so fab. The dogs are ecstatic to have a warm body to snuggle against on a Wednesday, and I'm hoping Mr. Kolby will sneak out of work early to take me out for some shopping and a little Japanese.

In the meantime, I've come up with a list of things I would like to accomplish while I'm 30:

Have a baby. It's about time, and all my friends are doing it!
Move. To anywhere but here. Both Mr. Kolby and I have decided to start shopping around for new jobs. New York is great, but not if you're just starting out.
Start reading regularly again. I've gotten away from reading for fun since I started working in government, and I miss losing myself in a good story. Plus, anything that will prevent my brain from shrinking further is definitely a worthwhile endeavor.
Start working out again. This may be the most difficult goal on my list, because I'm really fucking lazy these days. I mean, I'm not overweight or anything, but I would like to get into a size two again. Then again, if I accomplish item #1 soon....

Shallow Thoughts

2008-02-11T21:53:00.001-05:00

It's February 12, 2008. Eight days from my 30th birthday. Holy shit.

There are nine months to go before the Presidential Election, and I'm already sick of Lou Dobbs, Wolf Blitzer, Campbell Brown, and pretty much everyone else on CNN. Except Anderson Cooper. Anderson Cooper is God.

I don't know who the Dow Chemical Company has running their marketing department, but those damn "Human Element" commercials draw me in every time. They're beautiful.

When Mr. Kolby has the remote, he cycles through ONLY the HD channels before announcing that there's nothing on. We have less than 20 HD channels. Yes, I'm serious.

Kiss My Ass, Pig

2008-02-07T22:20:00.000-05:00

I almost forgot - I got a parking ticket today. I am so pissed at myself. A $50 ticket for parking my car on the wrong side of the street before noon. In case you're wondering how that works, here's the gist: Albany sucks. No seriously, it does. Anyway, on certain days of the week in the downtown section of the city, you can only park on one side of the street. It alternates, every other street, every other side. Make sense? So, this morning I was driving to work, and I was running a little late (as usual - I just can't seem to leave early to get to the job that I love so much), so when I turned onto Lancaster Street and saw an open spot, I jumped at it. I completed the most beautiful parallel parking job you've ever seen. And I leaped out of my car and practically skipped to my building. Needless to say, I obviously left a few brain cells at home in my rush, because the reason why I was able to secure such a prime spot this morning was that there was NO PARKING ON THAT SIDE OF LANCASTER TODAY. So, when I left work at five and started my car, there was a lovely little note from my friendly neighborhood parking enforcement officer. So, yeah, that sucks.

The worst part is that I shell out $45 a month for a spot in a garage that's located two blocks from my building, and which I had to wait for over two years to get. Come on, don't look at me that way.

Wasting Away

2008-02-07T17:47:00.000-05:00

Did you ever notice that your level of hunger is inversely proportional to the amount of food in the fridge? My stomach is rubbing against my spine, and all I've got is milk, eggs, green beans, a chunk of asiago, and a bunch of cilantro. And not enough energy to create something delicious using those ingredients. Maybe if I close my eyes and wish with all my might, something scrumptious will appear in the icebox. Heading to the kitchen now - wish me luck.

The Limit Has Left The Building

2008-02-06T18:41:00.000-05:00

I can't believe it's happened. It's taken seven years, but it actually happened. My husband has turned me into a girl. I am no longer capable of sitting through and enjoying any sporting event that happens to be on television. Not even if it's in HD.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but it's a goddamn huge deal to me. See, I've always been that girl. The cool girl who knew all the positions on a baseball team, understood the penalty signals on the football field, and who could accurately call a foul in a basketball game. The girl who hollered at the refs when they blew a call, who screamed obscentities at the TV screen every time Barry Bonds's face flashed across it, and who would happily walk through the rain, under a highway overpass, and through the ghetto just to attend a fucking Jaguars game. Throw in the ability to make a mean batch of Schaller's hot sauce, change a tire, and tolerate a subscription to Playboy, and you've got a pretty nice catch (if I do say so myself).

But everyone has her limit. Don't get me wrong, I still love, LOVE, sports, and I still love to watch them on TV. But I'm so over being forced to sit through every round of golf, every tennis match, every inning of every meaningless Mets-Pirates game, and every snap featuring the previously mentioned Tom Brady (ha ha, loser!). I'd estimate that approximately 60% of what we watch in the Kolby house is sports, and these days the other 30% is filled with political commentary and old M.A.S.H episodes. And Mr. Kolby doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why my sighs have gotten significantly louder, or why I've taken to watching Discovery Health and Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? in the bedroom.

So, yeah, I will never get over March Madness, college bowl games, the World Series or the Super Bowl, but I have GOT to find something else to do in the buildup to those events. Something constructive. Maybe a hobby.

Suggestions?

So I Married A Traitor

2008-01-12T20:49:00.001-05:00

God, I hate the New England Patriots and their pretty boy quarterback with the unattractive ass. I despise Tom Brady both on and off the football field. His arrogance, his fashion sense, his butterface girlfriend - I hate it all.

And that's not the worst part. See, hating Tom Brady isn't all that abnormal. Shoot, everybody's doing it. You kind of have to if you live outside of New England. My husband, though, he loves Tom Brady. Adores him, even. It's sickening, and it's making me reconsider my committment to the man. I mean, come ON, Mr. Kolby is a Buffalo Bills fan. A fucking BILLS fan. Tom Brady is, or should be, public enemy #1. But no, he admires Tom Brady and his dominance of the quarterback position. When confronted with my utter astonishment at his betrayal (let's face it, that's exactly what it is. I'm a Jets fan, I know exactly how it's supposed to work when it comes to the Pats), Mr. Kolby has the nerve to turn to me and say, "Don't hate the player, hate the game." What? WHAT?!

It's the fucking TITLE of my blog. It's what I do! It's what I live for! I don't even know him anymore.

Maybe a night on the couch will set him straight.

Dammit, I'm either lazy as hell or boring as all get out...

2008-01-07T21:37:00.000-05:00

...You decide. I started Hating The Player back in April, and much like many of my former interests, I kinda lost interest in blogging after a while. It's damn near impossible for me to do it from work, which is where I'm guilty of having more time on my hands than I do on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And when I'm home, well, my rapidly expanding ass speaks for itself. You know, I don't recommend to anyone with any kind of productive energy to ever invest in a dog (or two, in our case). All your productivity goes straight out the window in favor of lounging about in your PJs covered in rat terrier. It's so damn addicting.

Anyway, I've decided to dive headlong back into blogging. I'm a frequent visitor (and commentor -yay, over 100 posts so far!) to Pajiba, and as a result I've also paid visits to several of the other commentors' own blogs. And they're fricken awesome and I'm so jealousE. Yeah, so, I'm back. Woo.

Let's see how long this lasts.

A Big Fat Greek Wedding

2007-09-18T10:58:00.000-05:00

We attended our first Greek wedding this weekend, and it was everything I could’ve hoped for, and more (save for one thing, which I shall mention later.)

I wore a fabulous little cocktail dress that I had seen last fall and had nothing to wear it to, so couldn’t justify spending $160 on it, but then found it on clearance a few months later and got for a steal of $40. Anyway, when I tried it on I must have said, “Oh, there’s my short torso at it again, I’ll need to have [my mother-in-law] take the straps in,” and then forgot about it until I went to wear it this weekend. It was wearable, but until my BFF and I did some emergency safety-pinning, my husband kept telling me to put my boobs away and cover myself up with my pashmina.

The bride was a very dear friend of mine whom I’ve known since birth (our mom’s are best friends and we’re 10 days apart), who married a wonderful Greek man who compliments her very nicely (I couldn’t be happier for them.) She looked beyond stunning and didn’t stop smiling all evening, and everyone seemed to be having a great time. The food was amazing, the dancing was fun (I joined in the festive Greek dances) and the conversations were memorable, to put it lightly.

The bride is rather good at staying in touch with old friends (unlike me) which meant that I knew the majority of her side of the guests, mostly from the time I was in retainers, if not diapers. It was a flashback to say the least. There were talks of camp, the lunch table, and what a good baby I was. When I was spotted holding a friend’s newborn while she stole a quick dance with her husband, the mothers swarmed. My husband was harassed about when we were having kids, and upon replying that we planned on sooner rather than later, he was instructed to, “Go home and get the job done TONIGHT!” Oy. I’ve never seen him blush quite like that before.

The one drawback: no plate smashing. I have been led to believe (through seemingly inaccurate television shows and movies) that all Greek weddings end with festive plate-smashing, which I confided in the Bride a few months before the wedding that I was ever-so-excited for. I was brutally rebuffed, “I think we have to pay for broken plates, so no plate smashing.” Fine, I thought. I won’t START the plate smashing, but if some excited Greek relative starts the ritual, you’d better believe I’m joining in. But it never happened. I found out later that I wasn’t the only non-ethnic guest waiting to break some plates; at least three other guests asked when I thought the festivities would begin. Sigh. Oh well, the next time I drop a plate at home I’ll try to remember to scream, “Opa!” instead of swearing.

Babies on the Brain

2007-08-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

What is wrong with me? I know more about what’s happening in maternity fashion and pregnancy do-dads than my pregnant friends do…

Last night at dinner I mentioned the Belly Belt to my twice-pregnant friend, Liz, (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!) who knew nothing of the contraption that allows you to expand your favorite pair of trousers into maternity-wear. Ok, well we all know how Liz get’s when she’s pregnant, so maybe it was her. Nope. My other THRICE pregnant friend, Carolyn, also knew nothing about it. What the deuce?

So I thought about it. How do I spend my days when the work just isn’t getting done? Let’s see. I check Celebrity Baby Blog (CBB) then I bookmark all of the fabulous baby and maternity stuff they mention. I contemplate the nursery bedding set Keri Russell chose for her son, River, and decide what set I would’ve chosen. I snack as if I were eating for two, (though I am most definitely not) then I check CBB again and see the diaper bag Naomi Watts carries, and covet it for a good forty minutes. I have no need to carry diapers around at the mo’, but can you imagine how much stuff I could get in there? When make believe time has ended, I check CBB again (what, they update it a LOT, ok?) and enter to win a personalized baby blanket (of course I would have no idea how to personalize a blanket for a child that is years off, so I vow to personalize it for Liz if I win) from yet another fabulous baby site.

After realizing what my day entails (see above) and what my pregnant friends’ days entail, (chasing kids around after a long day of work and going to bed at a ridiculously early hour because they grew a lung or something that day) it’s pretty obvious why they’re clueless about pregnancy and baby crap. You see, they have actual things to think and worry about, like pregnancy, childbirth and financing the whole fiasco; whilst I sit on my bottom and dream up wardrobe for a future-preggo me and a nursery for a not-even-thought-about infant.

Le sigh. At least I know what nursery bedding set I’ll be choosing when the time eventually comes. In the meantime, however, I’ll be the best baby-gift giver there is. Perhaps I should think about getting a real hobby…

Why am I slutty....

2007-08-21T13:23:00.000-05:00

If I choose to wear an unlined bra? I mean, I understand that it's unseasonably chilly today, and also that I'm just so damn gorgeous that even women seemingly can't take their eyes off of me, and that yes, OK, MAYBE a silk sweater isn't the premiere garment to layer over said unlined bra - but who the hell cares if the outlines of my nipples are making an appearance at this very moment? I see older, heavier (i.e."fat") broads wearing lace or silk brazzieres under their outfits. Hell, most of the time I can SEE the bras themselves through the freakishly gigantic armholes of their sleeveless tops (don't even get me started on seeing these sleeveless tops in the dead of winter - 3 months of flabby, flapping skin is plenty, thankyouverymuch). So why do I, a married, 29-year-old woman, dressed tastefully, with all my "sexy" bits fully covered, receive constant oogling from the men and ocular death threats from the women in my office building? I'm wearing a turtleneck, for chrissakes! Yes, as I said before, it's silk, and YES, as previously mentioned, my nipples are "there", in all their glory, but come on people, everyone's got them! Are mine so unique that, regardless of the circumstances or level of deiscomfort involved, everyone's attention is immediately drawn to my chest, as if The Secret is contained within? Should I be forced to wear thickly lined, armor-like undergarments while the older, not-as-fun-to-look-at ladies of my floor get away with wearing bras that not even Frederick's would dare to carry? It's a double standard, I tell you.

And if I wasn't afraid to removed my forearms from their protective positioning over my breasts, I might be able to actually do something about it, like gesturing wildly or pounding my fist into my hand while standing on my desk and shouting that I'm not gonna take it anymore!

Oh, who am I kidding - this does look kind of slutty.

2007-08-20T09:39:00.001-05:00

Ok, so I have become enchanted by bangs. I KNOW! Trust me, I know what you are thinking. I haven't had them since I was 12 so apparently those intervening 16 years have taught me nothing except that time really does heal all wounds. But look at these celebrities that are mocking me with lovely bangs: Jennifer Garner, Reese Witherspoon, Emilie de Ravin, even Kiki Dunst!

So, before I go absolutely mad and bend to the will of "fashion," weigh in with your opinions...

Favorite White Tee

2007-08-13T10:03:00.000-05:00

For those of you who don't know, I am OBSESSED with the white t-shirt (wearing one right now, actually.) Given an excuse to do so, I would wear one every day. Consequently, I am always on the hunt for a new one; be it short or long sleeved, because really, you can never have enough.

So one day I’m shopping for things I don’t need in Target, like you do, and I spot some white long sleeved tees on the sale rack. They were super-cheap and REALLY soft, and even though I had no idea who the designer was (come on, it was Target) I grabbed one. This shirt has become my favorite white tee (FWT); it’s really long, extra roomy and oh-so-comfy.

A few months after the purchasing of the FWT, I saw the cutest madras maternity sundress for a friend of mine at Target. After texting a picture of the dress to her, I noticed the designer was the same as it was on my FWT. I thought, “Oh, this designer has become popular at Target, she now makes maternity clothing too!” Later, I went online to shop through the designer’s collection, as I had done so well with FWT, and that maternity dress was terribly adorable, maybe they had a non-maternity version. Can you guess what happened next?

I discovered that no, there was no non-maternity version of the dress, because that particular designer only makes maternity clothes for Target. I quickly threw on my FWT, turned sideways and cocked my head. Huh. It’s really way longer than it needs to be, and there is all this extra fabric around the belly… I threw a pillow under the shirt and all revealed itself. My FWT is a maternity shirt. No wonder it was so long and roomy…

For a while I felt like a complete idiot, being a non-pregnant woman walking around in maternity wear for so very long, but then I realized that if I hadn’t noticed it the many times I scrutinized myself in the mirror, onlookers probably wouldn’t either…

So I still wear it. Often. It’s still my FWT, and when I finally do become pregnant, it will remain my FWT, and that’ll be one less thing I’ll have to buy when the times comes.

Shouldn’t we be learning from this?

2007-08-10T09:16:00.000-05:00

We got Guinness at the end of April, and now that he’s potty trained, he’s eating everything in sight instead of peeing on it. First it was the molding in the kitchen, then the wall in the kitchen (how is that even possible?) and last night I

came home to a pile of ripped and chewed up paper on the floor that I recognized as our Dave Matthews Band tickets for Tuesday. Imaging explaining that one to your husband… He was obviously less than pleased, but luckily The Warehouse was able to replace the tickets with picture confirmation of the mess our little guy had made.

You’d think we would learn from this, no? We’re getting better, trying not to trust him so much yet, but he’s so cute it’s hard to be strong around that little puppy face. So for now we’re just trying not to keep important stuff below a six foot level in the house, because he always manages to get to it otherwise.

No Spoilers…

2007-07-22T19:18:00.000-05:00

…But it was everything I hoped it could be and more. It’s probably for the best that I didn’t get the black market copy early, because I read nonstop (laughing and crying) from the time I got my book at 12:15 am until I finished it at 4:15 pm, save for a three hour nap (which I don't think work would've appreciated). I was a total zombie at the end, went way too fast and probably missed important things, but I’m so glad I read it all in one. I’m now on the point of listening to my audio book (like the freak I am, see below) so that I can fully appreciate the final installment. Oh how I love Madame Rowling.

I want it NOW.

2007-07-18T14:48:00.000-05:00

All I want is the damn Harry Potter book. I’ve been waiting for two years to read it and all the chatter about leaks is not making it any easier.

For the record, I am not interested in the stupid spoilers of, “Oh, so and so dies in this one,” and “This person is really a death eater.” I want the whole damn thing.

Some ambitious dude got a hold of a copy of the book, took pictures of every page and then uploded the whole book to photobucket to share with the world. Genius, fellow! The problem with this is that I didn’t find out about it until AFTER Scholastic pressed charges and took them down. Bastards!

Now, before you go telling me about how it’s not fair and the suspense is part of the magic, blah blah blah, please remember that we’ve already been waiting TWO YEARS for this final installment about our favorite wizard, and that's quite a lot to ask in the first place.

And just for the record, yes, I’d still buy the book even if I read it online ahead of time. I also buy the audio books, because I am that freak who reads and listens to the books ceaselessly, and can quote random facts that not even the administrators of some of the most popular Harry Potter fan sites could. In fact, rather than buying an i-pod based on how many songs it could fit, I shopped for the one that I calculated could hold all seven audio books.

So yeah I’ve been waiting two whole years for this book, what’s another two days, right? I think the real question is: What on earth am I going to do with myself when the series is over?

The Draw of Lincoln

2007-07-04T08:40:00.000-05:00

My husband is in DC working for the week and called me last night around 11:30PM to tell me that he was touring around with co-workers, hitting up the presidential monuments. He said when he came around to the Lincoln Memorial it was packed with families and children even at that late hour. Then this morning he called to tell me it was still packed out! So, my question is, what does Lincoln have that the others don't? I mean, maybe the Washington Monument doesn't have the same allure as the memorials that feature statues of the presidents (although I remember when I was about 5 you could still go inside, not sure if you still can with the security concerns), but then surely Jefferson would be as big a draw as Lincoln (which incidentally is where my 5 year old self learned how to pronounce "Thomas"). Maybe people are just more familiar with Lincoln, see him as a sort of father figure, and are attracted to the serenity of the gargantuan President sitting in his chair.

Office-wide e-mail, Subject: Stapler Thief

2007-06-29T10:53:00.000-05:00

Secretary to entire office: Someone is borrowing staplers and not returning them. If you have more than one stapler please put any extras in the supply cabinet. If you need a stapler, please ask and we'll order one for you.

Russian coworker via reply-all: I've got two missing from my desk for the past three weeks. If you taking ANYTHING from my desk let me know about it AND return it. Thanks.

Indian coworker who shares office with Russian coworker via reply-all: …and both my staplers are missing today. Thanks.

Lisa to Me: This is so Office Space, I can't even stand it.

Me to Lisa: Should I reply all and ask why he has two?

Lisa to Me: I don't get why they're even replying at all. I think Indian and Russian CW are just passive aggressively stealing each others staplers. Scandalous.

Me to Lisa: You know it's the cleaning lady. She's plotting a cleaning lady's rebellion by way of stealing staplers AND messing with people by replacing their rubbish bins to different places around their office each day. That MINX!