Blond Archives - Page 55 of 87

ADHD

November 28, 2007/1 Comment/in Blond, Grumples /by Megan

Today my boss sent me a response to an email saying only “WHAT IS THIS SHIT!” Not a great sign.

I just took a giant swig of soda thinking it was a regular Pepsi, but it was a Diet Coke. Yuck. Tastes like tar.

What ever happened to Oasis?

This just in: Lucy likes musicals.

People who complain all day should be drug out into the street and shot.

What’s with all of the Charlies Brown specials. I get the Christmas one and the Halloween one, but “He’s a Bully, Charlie Brown?” What the hell does that have to do with the holidays?

Christmas cards make me grumpy. Especially when you’re making one and the only picture printing out to quality is the one of your dog.

Speaking of the dog, thank you to the random uncle who sent a holiday card to myself, Trent and Molly. Not sure if he just felt she needed the boost or if he really got the dog and the baby confused.

New York on my mind

November 27, 2007/3 Comments/in Blond, Family, Trent /by Megan

I love new york

We spent our holiday weekend in New York with Trent’s family. Yes, all 12 and a half of us. And I’m exhausted. We got home on Sunday, and I still feel like I’ve been sitting on a plane for 3 hours with a toddler. Vacation hangover claims another victim.

The minute we got off our train in the city I leaned over to Trent and said, “You’re going to be so annoyed with me by the end of today.” Why? Because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to shut up about how wonderful the city is and how we could totally live there. Yes, even with our kid and our dog and our piddly little income. People do it all the time. It’s what New York is about, people! Taking the plunge. I think I’m in the minority in this, as most parents I know would rather move to the Ukraine than raise their kids in New York City, but all I could think about was how great it would be to spend a Sunday afternoon in Central Park or to take Lu to the fruit stand on the corner each morning or to send her to a school where a field trip means a trip to the Met or the Museum of Modern Art. And how everyone that I know who lives there is happier there than they’ve ever been.

So now, as I sit at my cube, I keep wishing I could look out the window and see the hi-rise skyline. Nevermind that if I worked in New York, I would be no where near a window office. It’s the dream. Trent promised we could move there if he makes a million dollars at his business or if I make a million dollars. Anyone want to donate?!

Thankful

November 21, 2007/0 Comments/in Blond, Family, Happiness /by Megan

Megan:
For ice cream cones on a Monday.
For huge sweaters.
For a snuggly dog.
For Dancing with the Stars.
For health.
For the baby and the husband.
For Justin Timberlake.

Lucy:
For dogs.
For ducks.
For my monkey.
For green beans.
For ice.
For jumping on the couch.
For popsicles.

Trent:
For video games.
For sleep.
For beer.
For the business.
For the family.
For silence.

Molly:
For bones.
For food.
For walks.
For water.
For nipple rubs.

*No one actually told me anything they’re thankful for. I just made it up. Except for Molly. She was adament about the nipple rubs.*

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I’ll be in New Jersey for the rest of the week, so I probably won’t have time to write, what, with all of the board games and beer pong.

How to phone home

November 19, 2007/2 Comments/in Blond, Family /by Megan

I had a very long weekend. Very. Very. Long.

I won’t go into the sordid details here, because honestly, it really doesn’t matter all the crap that happened, only that all of this crap caused me an insane amount of stress and worry. The kind of stress and worry that makes you physically ill and unable to sleep. And before you all freak out, everything is fine. But I wasn’t sure it was going to be fine until about 5 p.m. today, so I’m still coming down from my extreme worry-high.

Last night I sat down with mounds of laundry that I had ignored throughout the past few days. I was completely drained and exhausted, but I’d been putting off this task forever, and since we leave for New Jersey in a few days I knew it had to be done. I flipped on the TV and hoped, even prayed, for a nice, simple romantic comedy. Hell, I’d even settle for some mind-numbing Nicolas Cage crap (which I almost did).

Then, as I flipped channels rapidly, attempting to put off my horrid task a few moments longer, I lingered on a screen that said, “Directed by Steven Spielberg” over a black background. An orchestra swelled over the speakers. And for a few moments I was transported back to 7-years-old. I was snuggled up to my sister on the couch of her sorority house over siblings weekend. She let us eat marshmallow cereal for dinner. We were underneath flannel blankets, in the dark chapter room, all light kept out by the plaid curtains. I would cower toward her when the alien came onto the screen, and we both cried when Elliot got sick.

E.T.