I’ve reviewed Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook (Yes, Jessica is Jerry Seinfeld’s wife.) Her book, Deceptively Delicious provides great ways to get your kids to eat their veggies! It’s over at Glamorous Geek. You should stop by for a peek. Ha! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it. (Thanks Pee-Wee.)

:::

I should really stop complaining about how I feel because, seriously? There’s a couple people worse off then I. Honestly, I’ve been feeling less nauseous but more exhausted. It’s a win-win situation I tell you. I either wanna barf or go to bed so early. Last night was record time. Mike and I both fell asleep in front of the TV while Carter had free range of the house for about an hour and a half. Yup. Asleep by 6:30pm. Snoring away on the living room floor.

I was awaken by the shrill of toddler delight when Diego came on.

Just in time to get him into his PJs and into his bed. Then off to la-la-land for me too. Head hit the pillow at 7:45 and I was GONE.

Luckily for Carter he goes to daycare; otherwise, had I been a stay-at-home-mom, his days would be filled with television and my semi-conscious parenting from the couch. Maybe I would buy a wheel chair and teach him to push me around. That’s exercise, right?

I’ve managed to keep everything under wraps at the office though. As far as I know, no one has a clue yet. I’ve told my boss simply because there is to be some departmental changes coming up soon and I thought it would only be fair. He’s happy for us, but I think me being gone for a year again is weighing more heavily this time.

:::

Remember I was working on a technical paper awhile back? January I believe it was. Well, it was written by myself and a couple co-authors (as technical papers usually are) and then presented - by someone else other then me since I dread public speaking - and is now going to be published in a magazine. I’m going to be a published author. How about that!?

:::

Oh and Ellen and her dog, Iggy? Since everyone’s weighing in on this, I will to.

Here’s the clip if you don’t know what’s going on:

I’m a huge supporter of animal rescues and also a big fan of Ellen DeGeneres. But in this case. I side with the rescue. Rescues are not in this for the people, but 110% for the animals. There are a considerable amount of animals which are dumped daily for no good reason - like in Ellen’s case - the dog didn’t get along with her cat.

[I've had one of those cases and to this day feel incredible guilt about it. I brought an animal to a shelter because it went wild after my cat. It was out for blood and I felt I had no choice but to send it to a shelter. I completely regret it and was completely in the wrong.]

People dump animals because they’re moving, it pees in the house, it doesn’t listen, the list goes on. It’s a sad and horrible existence for the animals and heart wrenching for the people that do everything in their power to help them.

Ellen was in the wrong.

But! The rescue should have made damn certain that she understood the contract and even reiterated the fact that she cannot give the dog to another home.

They make these rules for a reason. They spend so much of their time trying to match these abandoned animals with the proper home; to make sure they have a FOREVER home and a lifestyle which would not be traumatic or harmful to the animal. We don’t know the circumstances surrounding the family which made the rescue determine them unfit for Iggy. It’s all speculation, and to snap out at the rescue for doing their jobs is WRONG. It’s utterly and completely wrong.

Ellen, I love her, and I feel for her. She didn’t realize what she had done was so wrong.

Even though, I love Ellen; I applause the rescue for standing by their contract and doing what’s right for the animal and haven’t been sucked in by the celebrity and media hype and childish and small minded threats of violence because they have supposedly done their jobs.

Although, there are “reports” that Mutts and Moms (the rescue) didn’t adhere to their own regulations by not requiring a home inspection or signatures on the contract by both parties (Ellen and Portia), there is video of what sounds like utter chaos in the background during an interview with one of the rescuers who claims she’s spent thousands in bills for all the animals.

It seems like just another case where a celebrity uses their status for their own plight and beats on the little guy with hopes that they submit.

No one really knows what happened and it’s all speculation. All I know is the whole situation is completely out of hand and rather sickening.

Remember the good ol’ days at the Drive-In when they had an intermission, giving us time to regroup, refresh and get ready for the next showing? Well, let’s consider this the Temporarily Me intermission, so I can re-group, refresh and get ready for the next show.

Bad news? I’ve had a bout of dry heaving so bad that I brought up FOAM because I hadn’t eaten anything yet (that was yesterday morning).

Good news? Ever since then, the nausea only comes around when I’m SUPER hungry.

A reflection:

If you need me, I’ll be on the couch.

Remember Billy Mays, the crazy and ever-so-enthusiastic infomercial dude? I’m talking about him and his beloved over HERE, stop by and say Hey!

Turkey weekend was nice. I had one full day of NO nausea; it was bliss. What did I do with that time you wonder? How about clean my fucking house? Yes. That’s what I did.

I’ve been pretty well incapacitated all week, just lie on the couch feeling sorry for myself while a toddler and a husband had free reign of the entire place and did as they felt. Nothing cleaned, nothing put away, Nothing. Done.  Now, I can’t pin that all on The Kid, because, well. He’s TWO.

But the other one?

Yeah, nearly Thirty. 3-0. Didn’t lift a damn finger.

So what did I do? Cry.

I poured on the guilt so damn bad. All while crying. It’s the hormones.

I’m such a bitch.

His response? I’ve been working really late this week.

Which, to his defense is very true. He most certainly has been working A LOT of hours. As I have been working, and picking up Carter from daycare, entertaining him (Ha!), cooking dinner, bathing and putting him to bed all the while feeling like I am on the verge of barfing all over him.

But! He working so late doesn’t debilitate you. After hours of work you should be able to put a cup IN the dishwasher as apposed to on the counter ON TOP of the dishwasher. Why? Dammit, WHY?!
I will never understand how the male brain functions. Never.

But God Love Him. He did all the laundry and cleaned all the bathrooms after my little breakdown. He just needed a little push is all.

Or the threat of bodily harm is what did it.

It’s Turkey Weekend (Thanksgiving) in Canada and I am gaging at the thought of having to fill my plate and eat everything in sight without telling everyone about my “condition”. (I’d like to wait just a little longer before making the announcement to family. ) My head weighs about 800lbs and I want to sleep all the time. How am I going to hang out with family all evening!?

So instead of listening to MORE of my whining, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to share an older post. One of my favourites.

Enjoy!

MamaTulip wanted to hear about my battery operated toothbrush. I believe she even mentioned the word dild0 in her request. Pfft. What a pervert. I found it odd that this what part of her request, but reminded me of one of my business trips….

I enjoy brushing my teeth as much as the next person but I have a new found lust for it since getting my electric toothbrush. Now, it’s not one of those fancy Sonic Care toothbrushes, which I wouldn’t mind; it’s just one of those cheap Oral B. This thing is what dreams are made of. I could never, never return to using a “manual” toothbrush. It’s manual, but with less work. The head spins and cleans better then any regular shitty toothbrush. Anyone unknowing would definitely mistake the sound and vibration for a dildo.

I know this because…

I was on a business trip in September 2004. From Toronto to Virginia for a month. Pack my shit and away we go. Trip there was uneventful; get to the rented mini van and load up my stuff in the back. Take a short trip from DC to Maryland to pick up some equipment. There’s me, my boss and some guy from France that I’d never met but was to stay and work with me for the entire month. Great. Fine. So in Maryland we load up our equipment from the office which required some shuffling of the luggage in the back. No biggie. Right? *Ahem*

The guys are shuffling some stuff around and I come walking back to the van with my arms full of computer hardware, what exactly is not important. I get to the van and my boss turns towards me and diverts his eyes very quickly. Huh? What the fuck was that about? He then looks down at the ground, up at the sky, to his left. “There’s something going off in your luggage.” He says and quickly makes a dash for the building. There I stand dumbfounded as to what the fuck he’s talking about. I take my time and load the shit I was carrying and walk over to my bag thinking that he’s seriously got to lay off the crack. What the hell could be going off in my fuckin’ bag? I touch it. It’s vibrating. It’s fucking vibrating. *sigh* Je-sus. I know what it is.

My damn toothbrush. I hadn’t taken the batteries out before I packed it and with the shuffling something must have depressed the button. I think he was more embarrassed then I was; all I could do was laugh. I pulled it out to prove to him that it was in fact my toothbrush and not some sex toy that I planned on getting freaky with while I was away from hubby!

You’d think I’d learn my lesson after that? Oh, no. Not this one.

So, I’m in the airport on my way home at the end of the trip. Check my luggage in Dulles Airport and think nothing of it. Send it through the security check points, x rays, etc., and I’m on my way home.
Get back to Toronto and head to the baggage department. Wait for everything to unload; everything does, but my bag. Fuck! Where the hell is my bag!? I walk around, check other spots and then go to the baggage claim counter and ask. The bitch there doesn’t even look up and points to where the unclaimed bags are stored. I walk over wondering how it would be there if I just arrived here. Whatever.
But low and behold, there it is. With bright orange tape around it and a sticker that says “INSPECTED”. I grab my bag and head off; feeling a little violated and wondering, Why me? What made you want to search my bag?

I get home, still pondering the reasons that they chose MY bag.

As I open my bag, it hits me. There IT is, sitting on top of everything else, opened and batteries removed.

My dildo toothbrush went off in my bag again!

I can just imagine the inspector that had to check for that! A big sigh of relief must have washed over them when they realized that it was in fact a toothbrush and not a sex toy.