You can just tell it's going to be a good day when you wake up to the "I love it when you call me big poppa" music video. If I "rocked grooves and made moves with all the mamis", I would know today was my day. Throw ya hands in the ayuh if you's a true playuh. Listening to this song I can't help but smile. It reminds me of being about twelve years old, which gets me to thinking: should I have really been listening to this music at twelve years old? Maybe that explains some things. heh
The other day on Twitter the renowned Catherine at Herbadmother said something to the effect of, "blah blah blah . . . better than Xanax." To which I responded, "I didn't think there was really anything better than Xanax." She says, "No, actually there isn't." Then I justifiably started flipping out due to my recent lapse in medical insurance. Not only do I owe my doctor lady for my last visit (that I didn't know my insurance wasn't covering), but I will have to pay cash for my next visit, too. Not only that, but she has ordered me to do three tests which would have only cost me $3 with my insurance, but probably an ungodly amount without, by the time of my next appointment. You may wonder how a single SAHM can accomplish all of these bills. Well, this single SAHM is wondering the same thing, and is cringing at the thought of not having mother's little helper next month. Like any responsible parent I refuse to go without my chemicals, for my own safety and that of my child, so I will figure out some way to come through. I say that as I strap on my knee-high boots and head out to the corner of 6th and Chase.
Yesterday an amazing thing happened. While looking through my increasingly mediocre wardrobe I saw them. A pair of checkered blue and white shorts. Normally I would pass right over them, flipping on to a pair of jeans or maybe (if I'm feeling frisky) capris. After noticing the cute white shirt hanging beside them though I just couldn't resist, and I left the house wearing something to the effect of:
Minus the sexy legs, beautiful long hair, pretty Asian eyes, and basically the overall intriguing physical attributes of the photo above. Actually, this is what I hoped that I looked like, when actuality I probably looked more along the lines of this:
There is a moral to this story, and I swear I will get there eventually.
See, the thing is - I don't wear shorts. In all honesty I can't remember the last time that I wore shorts on my own free will, without being dressed by my mama (whom I will never forgive for dressing me in a gum ball print ensemble during the 5th grade, by the way). During high school I didn't wear shorts, and I didn't even wear them during college (although during college I didn't spend much time wearing pants of any sort). If I thought I was tan enough I might have slipped on a pair of capris every now and again, but never anything higher than the knees. Yesterday was a pivotol moment in my life. I stepped out of my house donning the pair of shorts I bought last summer but never wore, and I didn't even feel weird or fat or anything. Actually, I kind of forgot that I was showing my neon white legs to everyone and their uncle. Some people (3) actually said they liked my outfit, and one of them didn't have to! The best part was that my thighs didn't even chafe after jiggling and rubbing together all day! This was a breakthrough moment for me - The girl who always wore pants.
Yesterday was also a breakthrough for The Kid, too. Atleast, in his eyes. We were moseying around the flea market (which is a plus to living in Redneckville), when my four year old runs up to me with what looks to be a mini-skateboard. After watching the kids skate at the skate park he has been in a sort of trance, but I didn't think this day would come so soon. The skateboard he brought over to me couldn't have been any longer than a measly 12 inches long. He thought he could skate like the big boys on this pathetic contraption. I walked over to the booth, and noticed that they had some medium sized boards (not sure what length), and I would be less embarrassed if my kid broke his Tibia on a real skateboard rather than one sized to fit a G.I. Joe. So, I bought it, and of course he thought he could just jump right on it and skate out of the market and into the sunset, but he soon figured out it wasn't that simple. Today I'm making another purchase : knee pads and elbow pads. We already have a helmet. Actually, if I could just get him a thick rubber suit I would feel better.
I spent an hour last night personalizing a very generic and unpersonal Twitter layout, and you can see it at my Twitter page. I was also up until 2am finishing A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, and will probably do a review on it at Goodreads.com today. Long story made short: a crack addict finds love in rehab. Truly heart wrenching. Actually, it was a disappointment, but what do you expect from a Rehab-Romance memoir. Now I'm on to finishing Doghouse Roses by Steve Earl. Don't ask, I just pick books at random off of the shelves (if you can't already tell).
I also found this gem of a website, and I'm wondering why I never knew about this!
