A quick shout out to my brother, who today, enters the hallowed ground of that fabulous decade, the 30's. Welcome! The bills get bigger and responsibilities more heady, but there is nothing quite so nice as hitting one's stride, and finally, REALLY knowing oneself. Enjoy today and I can't wait to celebrate with you this weekend.
Sister #3
p.s. You'll have to thank me for not posting an embarrassing picture of you here, later. Flowers will do just fine. Or something shiny.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Be prepared
I'm one of those women who normally doesn't leave the house without applying at least a LITTLE bit of makeup. Mostly because I look like this without it. Also, because you never know when you'll be ambushed by the crew of What Not to Wear or run into Christian Bale.
But a few weeks ago, we were in the midst of a heat wave and looking hot was secondary to remaining cool...makeup wasn't a priority. But walking Kylie was. I figured I wouldn't run into anyone I knew in the middle of the day in Mountain View, seeing as most normal folk are at work. So I donned a pair of huge sunglasses, checked myself once in the mirror, noticed that my hair resembled something closer to a straw bale on top of my head but decided to just fuck it and go.
And so we walked. Or rather huffed and panted, as it was REALLY warm out. The amount of sweat I was creating was rather astonishing, so I tried to hurry Kylie along so that we could get back home and I could shower.
She finally, after sniffing what seemed like each and every leaf, found a place to do her business...she finished pooping and I, of course, bent down to pick it up. Which is when I heard a male voice say "Jen? Is that YOU?"
And I turned to see my VERY HOT old high school boyfriend with his VERY HOT current girlfriend standing next to him. Sweet god. The humiliation was something I just don't have the words for. I think a lot of women have this hope that if/when they run into the first boy that broke their heart that they will look beyond wonderful. That the guy will end up thinking "Hot DAMN, I screwed THAT one up for SURE!"
What they don't want is to be hot, sweaty, and carrying a bag of smelly dog crap. And also looking as though some sort of blond bird has come to roost on the top of their heads. Did I mention I had a brand new pimple on the tip of my nose? I did. And it was screaming "LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME!!!"
Needless to say, the conversation was short. I made a hasty escape, wafting dog poop as I walked off towards home. I'm sure his girlfriend was all "Who was THAT?" to which he replied "Oh, just someone I knew in high school" to which she then said "Well, does she ever SHOWER?"
I almost wished I had said something like "Let's get a drink some time!" because then I would have had the opportunity to redeem myself. Instead, he now has ample relief in having broken up with me years ago...which he did because I wouldn't put out. Now he's just happy he didn't end up with someone who bears a passing resemblance to the swamp thing.
I blame my mother who didn't let me join the Brownies/Girl Scouts, thinking any club would turn me into a Socialist. Isn't one of their mandates "be freaking prepared"? The things I would have learned...
But a few weeks ago, we were in the midst of a heat wave and looking hot was secondary to remaining cool...makeup wasn't a priority. But walking Kylie was. I figured I wouldn't run into anyone I knew in the middle of the day in Mountain View, seeing as most normal folk are at work. So I donned a pair of huge sunglasses, checked myself once in the mirror, noticed that my hair resembled something closer to a straw bale on top of my head but decided to just fuck it and go.
And so we walked. Or rather huffed and panted, as it was REALLY warm out. The amount of sweat I was creating was rather astonishing, so I tried to hurry Kylie along so that we could get back home and I could shower.
She finally, after sniffing what seemed like each and every leaf, found a place to do her business...she finished pooping and I, of course, bent down to pick it up. Which is when I heard a male voice say "Jen? Is that YOU?"
And I turned to see my VERY HOT old high school boyfriend with his VERY HOT current girlfriend standing next to him. Sweet god. The humiliation was something I just don't have the words for. I think a lot of women have this hope that if/when they run into the first boy that broke their heart that they will look beyond wonderful. That the guy will end up thinking "Hot DAMN, I screwed THAT one up for SURE!"
What they don't want is to be hot, sweaty, and carrying a bag of smelly dog crap. And also looking as though some sort of blond bird has come to roost on the top of their heads. Did I mention I had a brand new pimple on the tip of my nose? I did. And it was screaming "LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME!!!"
Needless to say, the conversation was short. I made a hasty escape, wafting dog poop as I walked off towards home. I'm sure his girlfriend was all "Who was THAT?" to which he replied "Oh, just someone I knew in high school" to which she then said "Well, does she ever SHOWER?"
I almost wished I had said something like "Let's get a drink some time!" because then I would have had the opportunity to redeem myself. Instead, he now has ample relief in having broken up with me years ago...which he did because I wouldn't put out. Now he's just happy he didn't end up with someone who bears a passing resemblance to the swamp thing.
I blame my mother who didn't let me join the Brownies/Girl Scouts, thinking any club would turn me into a Socialist. Isn't one of their mandates "be freaking prepared"? The things I would have learned...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Panties? What Panties?
So, I saw something unusual the other day while out, walking Kylie. I don't often see odd things in Mountain View...it's the kind of city that is politically liberal but personally conservative, so while almost all windows hold some sort of Obama paraphernalia, the sidewalks most likely are filled with young mothers toting around children, wearing Crocs and minimal makeup. A boob job is as rare as a Sasquatch sighting in these parts. We're an earthy lot.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was walking down a long, residential street. Ahead, there was a woman wielding a pickax that she was hammering into the earth with some conviction. I was impressed with her determination, but also somewhat perplexed as she looked to be wearing VERY short shorts...I mean, there was some fanny involved. Now, I don't have the best eyesight and was sure I was mistaken, so clearly, going in for a closer look was going to be the right thing to do. Research!
I was about a block away, when it became clear that they were not shorts, but a SKIRT. It looked like the bottom half of a Catholic girls school uniform, the kind you would buy in an adult shop, if you catch my drift. As she went on with her pickax'ing, each down-stroke would cause her skirt to flip up and reveal what appeared to be her very bare ass.
Surely, not. Because, who, in their right mind, pickaxes in a SKIRT with no UNDERPANTS?
But it's true, people. She chose that moment, as I was almost directly behind her, to bend over and pull at the roots she was trying to dis-lodge. Not only did I get a clear view of her rear, but I was also blessed with a eyeful of her uterus. Because how, tell me, HOW, can you not look?
Kylie picked that moment to pee on a nearby bush (no pun intended) so I was forced to stand within 10 feet of this woman for a bit longer. I looked across the street, trying to divert my gaze from what looked like a bad porn come to life, and saw two young men standing directly across from our dirty gardener, clearly transfixed by the view. It should be noted that she was not, in fact, hot. She was in her mid-40's and had lived what looked to be a rough life. But I understood their fascination, because a woman, wielding a pickax in a short skirt and no underwear is not something you encounter every day.
The best part came later, though...I was telling this story over dinner and Marc's mother, who is in her early 70's, piped in with "DID YOU SEE HER SNATCH?" Awesome.
And yes, MOST UNFORTUNATELY, I did.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was walking down a long, residential street. Ahead, there was a woman wielding a pickax that she was hammering into the earth with some conviction. I was impressed with her determination, but also somewhat perplexed as she looked to be wearing VERY short shorts...I mean, there was some fanny involved. Now, I don't have the best eyesight and was sure I was mistaken, so clearly, going in for a closer look was going to be the right thing to do. Research!
I was about a block away, when it became clear that they were not shorts, but a SKIRT. It looked like the bottom half of a Catholic girls school uniform, the kind you would buy in an adult shop, if you catch my drift. As she went on with her pickax'ing, each down-stroke would cause her skirt to flip up and reveal what appeared to be her very bare ass.
Surely, not. Because, who, in their right mind, pickaxes in a SKIRT with no UNDERPANTS?
But it's true, people. She chose that moment, as I was almost directly behind her, to bend over and pull at the roots she was trying to dis-lodge. Not only did I get a clear view of her rear, but I was also blessed with a eyeful of her uterus. Because how, tell me, HOW, can you not look?
Kylie picked that moment to pee on a nearby bush (no pun intended) so I was forced to stand within 10 feet of this woman for a bit longer. I looked across the street, trying to divert my gaze from what looked like a bad porn come to life, and saw two young men standing directly across from our dirty gardener, clearly transfixed by the view. It should be noted that she was not, in fact, hot. She was in her mid-40's and had lived what looked to be a rough life. But I understood their fascination, because a woman, wielding a pickax in a short skirt and no underwear is not something you encounter every day.
The best part came later, though...I was telling this story over dinner and Marc's mother, who is in her early 70's, piped in with "DID YOU SEE HER SNATCH?" Awesome.
And yes, MOST UNFORTUNATELY, I did.
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