About six of us decided to go to a low key dinner Friday evening after work. We even brought the kids. We picked Joe's Crab Shack because they have a pretty good (read: less germ infested) playground for the kiddos to play on. The kids had a blast, we had a few buckets of beer, and dinner was great.
We head to BFF's house to hang out for the evening. Low key, remember? We pull in the driveway and hear screaming. I chalk it up to the wild banchee children that live across the street. (WTF is up with all the screaming kids do nowadays anyhow??) So, we usher the kids into the house and I'm one of the last ones to walk in. Suddenly a car alarm goes off. Still, perfectly normal for a houston suburb.
Then we hear a woman screaming, and the children screaming at us..."He's hitting her, he's hitting her!" I turn around. Sure enough the husband is on top of the wife in their car, beating the shit out of her. She had set off the panic button in the car to get our attention. Their two little boys were on the porch watching. It was awful.
I scream to the guys to go help. I scream at the girls to call 911. BFF, completely oblivious to what is happening, calls 911 while mouthing to me with utter confusion "why am I calling 911?"
Another friend is inside with the kids, BFF is on the phone with the 911 operator (still trying to figure out what the hell is going on), and the guys have wrestled this guy off of his wife and are trying to talk him down. Wife beater then runs in his house to get his pit to "attack us". HA! The pit was a puppy and could give a shit less what was going on, he ran straight at us wagging his tail, begging for someone to pet him. Nice guard dog, jackass.
Then we were all called "white n---ers". I had to laugh at the irony of what was happening. Cracked out shirtless wife beater + pit bull + pistol....rightttt.... In retrospect we are all pretty lucky we didn't get our asses shot.
We did learn that the police have a three minute response time. Not too shabby. They wasted no time in slamming his ass down on the hood of the car. Cuff and stuff baby.
So, to sum it up, dinner, domestic violence, and witness testimony. Low key Friday my ass. I think it's now a proven fact that we are magnets for drama.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Lean Cuisines and Interns
After looking at the not so flattering pictures of myself from the reunion, I've decided maybe it's time to go on a diet. It pretty much boils down to one thing. I love food. I love to cook it, I love to serve it, but most of all I love shoving it down my pie hole. Maybe it's my southern heritage, or maybe it's because I grew up with a momma that fried everything. I don't know. But I do know something has to be done about it.
I'm trying a combination of the Slim Fast and Lean Cuisine diet. Regarding the latter, what kind of sadistic bastard (because you know it was a man!) invented these things? I pulled mine out of the freezer here at work today. I flipped it over to look at the directions. Six to seven minutes. It takes six fucking minutes to heat something in the microwave? Here's a little tip for you, Lean Cuisine creators, you do NOT want to make a dieting woman wait six minutes for her crappy ass diet food. I go from hungry to raving bitch in about three minutes flat. But that's neither here nor there.
I begrudgingly open the stupid box, throw it in our filthy work microwave, and punch in five minutes, fifteen seconds. Because I'll be damned if I will give them the pleasure of making me wait the entire six minutes.
And I wait. And wait. And wait. The intern walks through the kitchen three times and keeps looking at me like I'm a loon. Move it along, you tiny little 19 year old, there's nothing to see here. I silently giggle to myself because I know someday she will be the fat almost thirty year old waiting for her godforsaken diet food to heat up.
Ding! Finally. I walk down to BFF's office because that is where we have our lunch date most days. I pull off the cellophane and just groan. I shit you not when I say there were three tiny pieces of meat in there. Well, not even pieces really. More like the remnants that fall off of the roast when you are cutting it. That's probably what happened. They were cutting off actual pieces for the Hungry Man frozen dinners, and they have a collection area for the remnants that fall off. That's what they put in the Lean Cuisines.
Now, I'm going to be generous and say there were maybe seven green beans and two carrots. All of this was in a lovely brown, slightly MSG tasting, gravy. And to accompany this feast, was a side of dried crusty looking mashed taters. Dried? Crusty? After being in the microwave for six minutes? No way.
I ate it in about two seconds flat, grimacing the whole time at the God awful taste. Do they really think that tiny amount of food is going to satiate even the tiniest person (even the intern) for more than an hour?! Needless to say, I was starving an hour later.
That Hershey bar never had a chance.
I'm trying a combination of the Slim Fast and Lean Cuisine diet. Regarding the latter, what kind of sadistic bastard (because you know it was a man!) invented these things? I pulled mine out of the freezer here at work today. I flipped it over to look at the directions. Six to seven minutes. It takes six fucking minutes to heat something in the microwave? Here's a little tip for you, Lean Cuisine creators, you do NOT want to make a dieting woman wait six minutes for her crappy ass diet food. I go from hungry to raving bitch in about three minutes flat. But that's neither here nor there.
I begrudgingly open the stupid box, throw it in our filthy work microwave, and punch in five minutes, fifteen seconds. Because I'll be damned if I will give them the pleasure of making me wait the entire six minutes.
And I wait. And wait. And wait. The intern walks through the kitchen three times and keeps looking at me like I'm a loon. Move it along, you tiny little 19 year old, there's nothing to see here. I silently giggle to myself because I know someday she will be the fat almost thirty year old waiting for her godforsaken diet food to heat up.
Ding! Finally. I walk down to BFF's office because that is where we have our lunch date most days. I pull off the cellophane and just groan. I shit you not when I say there were three tiny pieces of meat in there. Well, not even pieces really. More like the remnants that fall off of the roast when you are cutting it. That's probably what happened. They were cutting off actual pieces for the Hungry Man frozen dinners, and they have a collection area for the remnants that fall off. That's what they put in the Lean Cuisines.
Now, I'm going to be generous and say there were maybe seven green beans and two carrots. All of this was in a lovely brown, slightly MSG tasting, gravy. And to accompany this feast, was a side of dried crusty looking mashed taters. Dried? Crusty? After being in the microwave for six minutes? No way.
I ate it in about two seconds flat, grimacing the whole time at the God awful taste. Do they really think that tiny amount of food is going to satiate even the tiniest person (even the intern) for more than an hour?! Needless to say, I was starving an hour later.
That Hershey bar never had a chance.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Change is Not Always Good
This is going to seem pretty trivial, but it's what's going on right now so it's what I'm writing about.
They changed our cafe here at work. We were assured that the new owners would be bigger and better. My ass. We begin our story around 1pm today. BFF innocently sends me an IM saying she wants ice cream. Being the lard ass that I am I happily agree. You see, our old cafe had a freezer full of ice creamy goodness...frozen snickers, drumsticks, chocolate dipped haagen daz bars....
We meet in the cafe a few minutes later....look around for said ice cream freezer. It is nowhere to be found. Panic ensues. BFF asks if they got rid of it, to which they reply "yes". A slightly shrill "are you sure?!" follows. I've never seen a 28 year old woman throw a hissy fit and pout until today. I think she even stomped her foot at one point.
She begrudgingly sulks over to the frozen yogurt machine and pulls the handle. "Chocolate?! I don't want chocolate!" More sulking. (Who doesn't like chocolate anyway?) So we roam around aimlessly in the cafe looking for a substitute. I see chocolate chip cookies, which are normally like crack to me, but they were wrapped in plastic. Ick.
BFF grabs a snickers (snickers are made of chocolate, no?) I grab the cookies. I know, they were in plastic, but I'm not wasting a trip to the cafe and coming back empty handed. We grill the checkout girl who barely speaks english about the missing ice cream freezer. She assures us that she will tell management. (Yeah, she will tell management alright....that two bitches were about to go postal over missing ice cream, of all things)
Needless to say, I am not happy about this cafe change. I will deal with the spongy, inedible chicken with the painted on grill marks. Just give us back our ice cream!
They changed our cafe here at work. We were assured that the new owners would be bigger and better. My ass. We begin our story around 1pm today. BFF innocently sends me an IM saying she wants ice cream. Being the lard ass that I am I happily agree. You see, our old cafe had a freezer full of ice creamy goodness...frozen snickers, drumsticks, chocolate dipped haagen daz bars....
We meet in the cafe a few minutes later....look around for said ice cream freezer. It is nowhere to be found. Panic ensues. BFF asks if they got rid of it, to which they reply "yes". A slightly shrill "are you sure?!" follows. I've never seen a 28 year old woman throw a hissy fit and pout until today. I think she even stomped her foot at one point.
She begrudgingly sulks over to the frozen yogurt machine and pulls the handle. "Chocolate?! I don't want chocolate!" More sulking. (Who doesn't like chocolate anyway?) So we roam around aimlessly in the cafe looking for a substitute. I see chocolate chip cookies, which are normally like crack to me, but they were wrapped in plastic. Ick.
BFF grabs a snickers (snickers are made of chocolate, no?) I grab the cookies. I know, they were in plastic, but I'm not wasting a trip to the cafe and coming back empty handed. We grill the checkout girl who barely speaks english about the missing ice cream freezer. She assures us that she will tell management. (Yeah, she will tell management alright....that two bitches were about to go postal over missing ice cream, of all things)
Needless to say, I am not happy about this cafe change. I will deal with the spongy, inedible chicken with the painted on grill marks. Just give us back our ice cream!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Back in the Land of the Living
I never thought I would say this, but I am so glad to be back at work! We all caught the stomach virus from hell last week. Poor little BB must have thrown up 15 times on Wednesday So we are all in bed Wed. night and I hear him start to gag. I sit up and lean over him to see if he is okay....and...blahhhh right in my face. He puked directly in my face. OMG, I thought I would hurl right then and there. I cleaned him up, cleaned the bed and myself and we went back to sleep. 3:00am, I hear it...*gag* *gag* ...I grab the towel with cat like reflexes. Blahhhh....on the back of BD's head. Poor guy was just sleeping, minding his own business...and woke up with baby puke on his head.
Sooo Thursday I get the virus. I am laying on the bathroom floor praying for a quick death. I'm making bets with God. "I will do anything, please just let this end!" Finally around 8pm I was so exhausted and dehydrated that I asked BD to take me to the ER. They get me a wheelchair, hook me up to an IV and leave me in the hallway. No rooms are clean. BD and BB go home. Six hours go by.... I had fallen asleep in the hallway. I probably looked like a cracked out homeless person by this point. I finally got a room around 1am. They poke and prod and decide it's a bacterial infection.
Friday, BD gets the virus. I spent the entire weekend disinfecting our house. I probably emptied a can of lysol on the doorknobs and toilets. We are all well now...knock on wood. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before my little germ incubator will bring something else home!
Sooo Thursday I get the virus. I am laying on the bathroom floor praying for a quick death. I'm making bets with God. "I will do anything, please just let this end!" Finally around 8pm I was so exhausted and dehydrated that I asked BD to take me to the ER. They get me a wheelchair, hook me up to an IV and leave me in the hallway. No rooms are clean. BD and BB go home. Six hours go by.... I had fallen asleep in the hallway. I probably looked like a cracked out homeless person by this point. I finally got a room around 1am. They poke and prod and decide it's a bacterial infection.
Friday, BD gets the virus. I spent the entire weekend disinfecting our house. I probably emptied a can of lysol on the doorknobs and toilets. We are all well now...knock on wood. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before my little germ incubator will bring something else home!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Things I've Learned as a Mom
1. The bathtub in BB's bathroom, when half full, holds enough water to flood not only the bathroom, but the hallway as well.
2. When BB's bathroom is flooded, it takes no less than 7 beach towels to clean it up.
3. BD can turn several shades of red when his big screen tv is colored on with a crayon.
4. Add two more shades of red when he realizes the crayon wasn't the washable kind.
5. There is enough baby powder in the bottle to cover a small boy from head to toe, with enough left over to make footprints throughout the house.
6. Our dog, unlike most, walks away and sulks in a corner when jabbed in the face with a fork.
7. Pampers hold more pee than I even thought could come out of a baby.
8. There is no brand of diaper that will hold in diarrhea. I promise.
9. If you take a diaper off too quickly in the morning, it usually results in getting peed on.
10. Little boys think it's funny to pee on things and their Moms.
11. I've developed catlike reflexes when dodging pee streams.
12. Contrary to popular belief, a crayon can get stuck up a dogs nose.
13. Said dog doesn't think it's quite as funny as the boy who put it there.
14. You do get used to sleeping with a foot lodged in your cheek.
15. You do not get used to being jolted awake by a little finger in your nose.
16. When your son comes in the house and says "guess what I caught", do NOT let him open his hands in the kitchen. Escort him outside, stand back, and say "okay, now you can let mommy see".
17. When you get out of the shower and your son picks up your underwear and says "You need to put these back on", it's time to stop being naked in front of him.
18. Dads don't think it's as funny as Moms when their son walks around with heels on and a bra on his head.
19. When you force a little boy to wear big boy underwear that really, really doesn't want to, the result is him getting on all fours, pulling those underwear to the side, and peeing on your carpet.
These are all true stories. BB is only 2, I don't even want to think about what he has in store for me in the future.
2. When BB's bathroom is flooded, it takes no less than 7 beach towels to clean it up.
3. BD can turn several shades of red when his big screen tv is colored on with a crayon.
4. Add two more shades of red when he realizes the crayon wasn't the washable kind.
5. There is enough baby powder in the bottle to cover a small boy from head to toe, with enough left over to make footprints throughout the house.
6. Our dog, unlike most, walks away and sulks in a corner when jabbed in the face with a fork.
7. Pampers hold more pee than I even thought could come out of a baby.
8. There is no brand of diaper that will hold in diarrhea. I promise.
9. If you take a diaper off too quickly in the morning, it usually results in getting peed on.
10. Little boys think it's funny to pee on things and their Moms.
11. I've developed catlike reflexes when dodging pee streams.
12. Contrary to popular belief, a crayon can get stuck up a dogs nose.
13. Said dog doesn't think it's quite as funny as the boy who put it there.
14. You do get used to sleeping with a foot lodged in your cheek.
15. You do not get used to being jolted awake by a little finger in your nose.
16. When your son comes in the house and says "guess what I caught", do NOT let him open his hands in the kitchen. Escort him outside, stand back, and say "okay, now you can let mommy see".
17. When you get out of the shower and your son picks up your underwear and says "You need to put these back on", it's time to stop being naked in front of him.
18. Dads don't think it's as funny as Moms when their son walks around with heels on and a bra on his head.
19. When you force a little boy to wear big boy underwear that really, really doesn't want to, the result is him getting on all fours, pulling those underwear to the side, and peeing on your carpet.
These are all true stories. BB is only 2, I don't even want to think about what he has in store for me in the future.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Houston Driving is Going to Kill Me
Will the texas department of public safety give ANYONE a drivers license these days? My commute to work is like Houston's version of the Indy500. I don't see that much multi-tasking going on in my office!
I live 8 miles from my job. 8! How long does it take me to get to work? 45 effing minutes. Ridonculous. I fear for my life every morning as I merge onto the road along with 4 million other people trying to get to work as fast as possible.
We've got the chick in the bmw who can't possible get up 10 minutes early to do her makeup at home. Why do it at home when your car is a perfectly acceptable place to do your liquid eyeliner?? I missed a green light this morning because this dumbass was elbow deep in mascara and eyeshadow.
Then we've got the homeless people who practically swarm your car looking for money. To buy what I assume is a 40 judging by the littering of paper bags around their "bed" under the overpass. If I hit one someday I am not stopping. Just sayin'.
Then we've got the construction. I think it's an inside joke the city has with contractors. Let's see how long we can possibly drag this tiny little project out for. Then we can move the cones around every night so it's complete and utter chaos every morning! Then we can have the construction workers make lude and vile gestures at the poor women just trying to get to work! I won't even go into that because I shudder every time I think about it.
And last, but certainly not least, we have the foreigners. You people know what I'm talking about. The ones who cut across four lanes of traffic to exit the freeway. One yesterday had his blinker on to get in the turning lane. No one let him in so he just sat there, with 70mph traffic whizzing by. Completely stopped, with traffic in that lane either swerving to miss him, or burning rubber trying to stop behind him.
It's days like these that I thank God I live in the 'burbs. I wouldn't make it in the city!
I live 8 miles from my job. 8! How long does it take me to get to work? 45 effing minutes. Ridonculous. I fear for my life every morning as I merge onto the road along with 4 million other people trying to get to work as fast as possible.
We've got the chick in the bmw who can't possible get up 10 minutes early to do her makeup at home. Why do it at home when your car is a perfectly acceptable place to do your liquid eyeliner?? I missed a green light this morning because this dumbass was elbow deep in mascara and eyeshadow.
Then we've got the homeless people who practically swarm your car looking for money. To buy what I assume is a 40 judging by the littering of paper bags around their "bed" under the overpass. If I hit one someday I am not stopping. Just sayin'.
Then we've got the construction. I think it's an inside joke the city has with contractors. Let's see how long we can possibly drag this tiny little project out for. Then we can move the cones around every night so it's complete and utter chaos every morning! Then we can have the construction workers make lude and vile gestures at the poor women just trying to get to work! I won't even go into that because I shudder every time I think about it.
And last, but certainly not least, we have the foreigners. You people know what I'm talking about. The ones who cut across four lanes of traffic to exit the freeway. One yesterday had his blinker on to get in the turning lane. No one let him in so he just sat there, with 70mph traffic whizzing by. Completely stopped, with traffic in that lane either swerving to miss him, or burning rubber trying to stop behind him.
It's days like these that I thank God I live in the 'burbs. I wouldn't make it in the city!
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