Overheards

Scene: H & I discussing nothing of importance while going to bed.



H: I'm thinking that I should get a pair of white knit pants.



V: WHAT?! White (snort) knit? pants?! Why?! (I continuing snorting and almost end up becoming a pig.)



H: What? I thought that is what you said, white knit... oh wait... linen. Is it linen?



V: Yes, linen is acceptable. And khaki, not white. I was going to say, what are you trying to audition as a catalog model for International Male? Trying to go for a Saturday Night Fever type look perhaps?



Behold...

The International Male. They even sell underwear for men with contours... I dare you to check it out.

***GIVEAWAY ALERT**** Mummy's Product Reviews (MPR) is holding a giveaway today- one lucky winner will score some loot!

Overheards

Scene: Our kitchen last night. H & I are cleaning up from dinner.

Me: Ugh... I don't know what is wrong with me. It's maddening. I hit this wall at this time every night (6:14-19 p.m. I swear it is that accurate) and I just feel so awful no matter what I do.

H: mumbling under his breath as he puts something away in the fridge. Snorts with laughter to himself.

Me: What? What was that you just said?! I didn't hear you....

H: Nothing! I didn't say anything. (smirks)

Me: No, you did! I heard something. What was it you said?! Tell me or I swear that dirty steak knife sitting in the sink will be used.

H: OK...(sighing) I just said, "It's when you take your bitch pill..."

Me: WHAT?! That is not funny!!! (giving him an Elaine Bennis shove)

H: I know. It's like one of those things that seems funny in your head and then once you say it, not so much.

Me: Um... that is never funny in your head.



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MPR has some great reviews up. One PBN sponsored girly review and another French Country inspired one from Le Couvent Des Minimes.

Overheards

Dinner time, our house, last night...

T.D. swipes a fork from the table at lightening speed and quickly hides it on her person.

Me: This isn't prison, put the fork back on the table!

H tries to keep from spitting food out of his mouth.

Moments later T.D. has swiped another fork and poked herself in the face with it.

Me: And that's why we don't use forks as weapons or anything else other than as eating utensils...

Immediately I'm reminded, as was H, by his snorting laughs of the Arrested Development episodes in which the father teaches his children lessons using the one-armed man.

Overheards and more

Seriously, you must think I hang out in the weirdest places but really I'm just a regular gal going around town in my 'grocery getter' picking up diapers and hitting the gym on occasion. I just think people have no idea what they sound like, and I'm as guilty as the next person, when someone only hears snippets of conversation.



Here's what I've been privy to in the last 24.



1. I NEED more poop. (alrighty then! Get that woman some poop!)



2. It goes up your baby crack. (I think that is the opposite of the ass crack if you are a girl in case you were wondering)

3. Titah bah, Titah bah, Titah bah... (this was repeatedly said by T.D. while in the car last night.) "What is she saying?", H & I asked. I wondered aloud, "Titty bar? Is she saying titty bar? I mean we are next to a Hooters. Is that it?"

4. Titty bar, Titty bar, titty bar!!! (as said by T.D. one second after I said that dastardly phrase. H shook his head in shame and I began to sing the alphabet loudly to distract T.D.)


5. I just want to know how long Obama's been a Christian... (because that makes all the difference now doesn't it? Oddly, I have heard this question posed more than once.)



I actually posed that last overheard to T.D. to garner some wisdom from her. Dictators do have staunch opinions on things. So we had a little sit down to discuss this latest political quandary.



Me: T.D., tell me, do you think, as a toddler and a dictator, that it matters if Barack Obama has been a Christian for say 5 years, 25 years, always, or like only maybe two years?



T.D.: Uh... Why?



Me: Yeah, OK, my point exactly but answer the question. The public wants to know your stance on this issue. (I repeat the question)



T.D.: Why? Christian? Yeaaah.....



Me: So it does matter. Why? Why does it matter?



T.D.: Why? Why?! WHY?!!!! No thank you.



Me: OK, we'll take that as a no comment.



Seriously? Why does it matter if it is five years, his whole life, or the last five minutes. If he is the same belief system as you then why does it freakin' matter?!

Bill Clinton is on the phone. Will you take the call?

Overheards from our house last night. Scene: Dinner at our house, H & I are conversing about our day. I am discussing the 'Open Letter' to the Presidential candidates on DC Metro Moms.

V: It seems that we can't get the candidates to talk to us. Their people keep volunteering their wives instead. Well, that's sweet and stuff and no offense, but we've already talked to some and now we are screaming, "NO! We want YOU, the candidate."

H: So you guys won't talk to Bill then, huh?

V: Ugh. No, Mr. Smarmy-pants is a spouse too. Besides, I'd probably have to put a dental dam on the phone just to take the call.

Later in the evening....

V: You are watching what?! I didn't quite hear that correctly.

H: Colorsplash. COLORSPLASH!

V: Excuse me, what?! You mean the Design Star winner who is always painting bold streaks on the floor on HGTV? The guy you mercilessly mock at every HGTV chance you get?

H: Uh, yeah... he's creating a library and I think I can use his ideas.

V: Oh. (now grumbling to myself about not having a library nor the forethought to use mahogany plywood on the walls like David is using which turns out so nicely that it looks like buttery leather on the walls) But I want to watch Scott Baio!

H: No. Colorsplash!!

V: I NEED MY SCOTT BAIO!

It is clear that we have horrible taste in television shows at this point and we both shut up and watch the end results of Colorsplash. Besides I had already realized what horrible taste in music I had when I visited Jennsylvania last night and found so many fantastic songs from this post. So really? How was another viewing of Scott Baio going to harm me?

Overheards

Scene: Casa de Parents (yup, still here). H & I dorkin' it up on our separate laptops as we sit side by side on a couch. My mother walks in with clean sheets.

My Mother: Where are the red sheets?

Me: Huh? Oh. I brought them down to the laundry room.

My mother: There were only two pillowcases. What happened to the sheets.

Me: Silence. Huh. Oh. (the longer I'm here the more my verbal skills decrease by sheer lack of routine and the ability to watch massive amounts of HGTV) We only used two pillowcases, not the sheets.

My mother: OK. (exits the room)

Me: (very late on the uptake) I ate them.

H: Well, you never know with you. You are married to a criminal after all.

Me: (Hugh sigh of anxiety and stress exudes from me)

H: Not funny yet?

Me: No.



Still want to puke. Want to curl up into a ball and wake up like Dorothy back in Kansas and not this strange Oz-like existence that has become the new year, CT and my life.

Overheards

SCENE: My house. Getting ready for bed last night.

Me: Why didn't you tell me I had orange stuff all on the side of my face? What is that?!

H: Oh. I thought it was for your zit.

Me: Nice. NO!

H: Well, that thing is scary. It was talking to me during dinner saying, (using a voice as if the zit has possessed him) "H! ME HUNGRY! GIVE ME CHOCOLATE! HOT CHA CHA. ME WANT HOT CHA CHA!"

Me: That is so mean! As if I don't feel bad enough with T.D. touching it today saying, "OW! boo-boo Momma! Ow!!!" with my bad hair that desperately needs a haircut, my Santa bowlful of jelly belly right now and now this zit. Which isn't that bad!! You are so mean. Do I say mean things to you about your gray hair? No! I don't point out things like that on you. (I scoot to the other side of the bed and turn my back to him.)

H: Awww honey... I didn't mean it. (A bit of silence) You know this gets me thinking, now I know what I'm going to get you for your birthday.

Me: (Silence, deep controlled breathing.) I swear it better be a weekend away and you are not about to make some joke about a zit-zapper.


Twelve hours later....

Changing T.D.'s a.m. diaper.

T.D.- Oooh! Momma! BOO-Boo! Boo-boo Momma, boo-boo! Ooohhh!


I'm going back to bed. If anyone needs me I'm the one with a bag over my head.


COUPONS and NEW REVIEWS here. Kids shoes, green car washing products and more!

Also a BIG THANK YOU to whoever nominated me for The Best Mom Blogs EVER! Thanks so much! What an honor!!


NEW NEWS! I'm going to BlogHer 08! Who is coming with me?!

Overheards

Our house last night-

H: AAAHHH!! Geez! A little warning will you?

V: What? After all this time you still haven't gotten used to this? Before you I had to do this myself you know. But with you it is now so, I don't know, quick and convienent.

H: We're still talking about you warming your freezing cold feet up on me right?





Two days later it still feels good. GO SOX!!!









CHECK OUT Flaming Tulle today. We're giving one bride a free projector rental for a photo montage to be used at her reception or wherever the need might be on her BIG DAY! Come have a look and pass it on to any of the soon-to-be married's you might know!

Overheards

Standing back a bit in my parents kitchen, I watch my father carve a turkey.

My Mother: Do you want more room than that? Here's a plate. (Mom takes shows him the serving platter)

My Father: No. I'm fine.

M: (Gets out cutting board and places next to platter) Turn around. I have set up a carving place. Would that be easier for you?

F: No. (Sighs heavily as the electric carving knife hits the roasting pan.)

M: (Moves platter next to roasting pan.) I have a cutting board set up behind you. Here is the platter. Why don't you just carve it up on this. It would be easier. Wouldn't it?

F: No. (Hits the inside of the roasting pan again with the knife. The noise makes my teeth tickle)

M: Silently moves platter closer to roasting pan.

F: Slaps turkey slices onto pan and then... "I can't freakin' carve this thing with all this stuff around!" He moves aside a few misc. items on the counter that seem to be of no consequence.

M: Well... if you had moved the turkey to the cutting board...

I leave the kitchen. It is at this point that I realize both these conflicting traits reside in me and it is just too scary to watch.


LATER THAT NIGHT

H and I sit on the couch in my parents living room watching PBS. I simply can't help myself, I'm a PBS freak.

A commercial for the disabled comes on the TV. It is insipidly banal. While the screen depicts a man in a wheelchair climbing aboard a dump truck, the narrator slowly (as if we have some sort of audio visual impairment or are suddenly the age of two) says, "This...(wait a beat)is a dump.... truck. Do you... see a dump.........truck?" I am already laughing as is H. When the commercial is over after depicting that the disabled can drive a dump.....truck I am almost on the floor with laughter. The commercial is incredibly rude to me. So what we all need to process the information that the disabled can work 100% effectively even in dump..... trucks slowly?!

My Father pipes up, "Hey! Remember Mr. So and So?" No. "Well, he used to drive a dump truck and he was disabled." My mother chimes in from another room. "Oh yeah he did, he did own a dump truck." This conversation goes on with the words dump...truck being used over and over again. H and I are by now sadly hysterical and talking about the Yak conversation of last Christmas. The word yak is screamed repeatedly through tears of laughter while my parents look at us sternly as if we are somehow making fun of the disabled and them in the same sentence. This just makes us laugh harder.

I'm hear all week people and I don't know how much longer I can hold out against the bowls of Andies Mints and Oreo cookies, brie, and blasted cheddar goldfish that are stocked in my parents pantry...

Ovaherds, ahem... Overheards Rhode Island Style

"Keep my NAME outta ya mouf!" I said, "Keep my NAME outta ya mouf!"

"You know just because something's been buried, doesn't mean it stays buried."

"It's the BIG DUH sale!"

"Just Remember, it's CHOWDAH and Lobstah, Lobstah and Chowdah and you'll be fine. Welcome to Rhode Island."


I'm stewing in massive amounts of fried food. I've ingested grilled cheese, french fries, too many clamcakes to count, and a lot of caffiene. The horseflies are biting and I'm catching up on tunes with VH-1 Classics. Limelight by Rush anyone? I had forgotten how oddly rural and uh charming this place can be. Especially when that first overheard was as I walked onto a tranquil beach. Gotta love Rhody.

Thoughtless Thursday

Also known as my lazy self doesn't feel like working. So enjoy the randomness of this post.

Overheard: My house last night-

Me: Why is the water running?

H: Because I want it to get cold... just like your heart.

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Check out the new button in the sidebar linking to my Product Site. New Products up now!! Exciting developments are in the works- workout/dance DVDS, fun bags (get your mind out of the gutter you sleaze!), and more!

Listen up! I was on Blog Talk Radio- hear my voice and Kristen's now!
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And now for a little funny...

When this first aired I literally laughed for an hour straight. I was oh, about, 15? I continue to use the last line dialogue in many of life's situations.

Overheards

Nightime, a darkened bedroom. H and I are talking before bed.

Me: You know ever since I started staying home I'm in the car less so I don't listen to NPR as often. I have less time to take in any news. I feel as if I don't know what is going on in the world. I'm writing way more, but that's just it. I'm putting all these words out there and not reading. I'm just barfing words out.

H: Wow, honey, you are so articulate. Barfing words. Amazing.

Just for that I sat down and read two Newsweeks and took in some serious radio news today too. Whew! Was feeling a bit lost there for a bit.