Tuesday, September 30, 2008

No one thinks I'm funnier than I do.

So have you ever wondered what would happen if you decided to reorder checks at 1:30 in the morning after a late dinner of sketchy Indonesian food? 

No? Never? Not even once?

Well, this one night Pete and I were feeling particularly slap-happy and,well, this is what happened.

Cowboy checks!  Aren't we hil-arious? We couldn't stop laughing. And even better, it came with a free checkbook cover. Wanna see?

I know! You're dying aren't you!

Only when the checks came, Pete didn't really think they looked quite so funny in real life. And when we write checks we are sort of embarrassed. Either that or a cowboy/horse lover sees the checks and is like, "Oh these are cool! Are you from the West? Do you love horseback riding too?" And we have to lie and say because we don't want to make said cowboy/horse person feel bad. I mean no one likes to be made fun of. I used to think that just some people like to be made fun of, but I was wrong. It's no one.

Here's the thing though. You know how you think you are really really funny at 1AM and then the next day you think about it, and it isn't even funny anymore? Well, here's my curse. I think I am that funny all the time. It really is tough to deal with. Have you ever told a joke and everyone starts laughing, and then they stop and you are still laughing so hard that you can't talk for like 5 more minutes. Well it happens to me almost daily and it is really embarrassing. I try to stop by thinking about something sad like dead puppies or the mortgage crisis, but I usually end up laughing even harder. I know the checks probably aren't really funny but I am laughing out loud looking at them and thinking that I am going to order Happy Kwanzaa checks next time (talk about funny.)
Man, I'm about to pee my pants, I gotta go.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

More thoughts on my storage room

Hey,  Anybody have one of these sitting in your storage room/garage collecting dust?

Didn't think so.

Do any of you have a kid who would throw a toy microphone at one of these? (42 incher by the way.) 

Didn't think so

You know what happened? It shattered okay? Leave me alone.

My dilema isn't what I should do with my son (although it probably should be.)

No, I can't figure out what to do with the TV. It's been sitting here for over a year. It doesn't look broken unless you turn it on. I am only a half a step too honest to return it to Costco. (weird, I know) I am too proud to bring it out to the trash on garbage day, my neighbors haven't caught on to the fact that I have no mothering skills and I'd like to keep them fooled a bit longer. 
Seriously though, what could you use this for? Do you think anyone would buy it off craigslist for target practice? Or to display in their home like for an open house or something? I know it's a stretch (but you and I both know that stranger things have been solicited on craigslist-- well I wouldn't know, I've just heard)

Any ideas? Anyone?

Friday, September 26, 2008

We're still on top of the food chain right?

So cleaning out my storage room today involved disposing of about a quarter cup of mouse droppings. Really! 

I can't believe that mice are going around pooping and humans are cleaning up after them. There is something really wrong here. 

I mean, did we loose a war? Seriously. That's not America! That's not even Mexico.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Happy Birthday Pete

Well I think this is the post where I wish my husband a happy birthday and show some pictures of the two of us in Times Square or something. Then I'll go on and on about how easy he is to live with and what a perfect person he is. 

But I know you didn't come here for that did you.

Instead I'll tell you my favorite most recent Peter story. I think pretty much all of you have heard it because I love to tell it. 

So one night I am laying in bed dozing off while Pete is going through his night time ritual (you know, waxing, exfoliating) and I hear him say, "Hey Ang how tired are you?"

I hate it when he asks me that question.

I open one eye and see him walking toward me, looking like he's getting ready to take off his pants.

"Uh, I'm prrretty tired Pete." I reply suspiciously.

"Well I just want to show  you something." continuing with the pants.

"Peter,  seriously I was asleep just now."

To my relief, he just wanted to show me this abnormal lump protruding from his lower stomach "area."

"Do you think it's a hernia?" He asks. "They run in my family."

"I don't know, you should call the Dr. in the morning."

"Yeah, you're probably right." he pauses, "So baby, how tired are you?"

"Good night."

"Oh ok, good night."

So a couple of weeks go by and-- you guessed it. Peter had not called the doctor. Finally, I dialed the doctor's office and handed him the phone.

As the phone was ringing, I thought, "Should I tell him how to phrase his delicate issue? I mean, do I have to tell him to say that he has a lump in his abdomen so that he doesn't say something weird or creepy? No, he's an attorney, a master with words. He won't say something dumb."

Shoulda known.

The nurse answers the phone and Peter blurts out,  "Uhh,  I have a big lump in my crotch!" 
One of my proudest moments as his wife.

Long story short, it was a hernia and he needed surgery. An operation for which he probably should have spend at least a day in the hospital. But our ghetto insurance has this surgery center in the basement which is practically a drive through. (Think Dr. Nick from the Simpsons.) So I dropped him off at 6 am and he was all sewn up and "ready" by 9. 

I go to pick him up. The "nurse" hands me a typed up sheet with the doctor's orders, says to me, "What ever you do, don't make him laugh."  and forces Peter into a wheelchair.

A couple of hours later, Peter is at home in bed doubled over in pain. I wasn't sure what to do. 

"What does that dr's orders paper say?' Peter moans.

I grabbed it and started reading out loud.

"No bathing for 12 hours." 

"Take ibuprofen or vicoden every 4-6 hours as needed."

" F U in two weeks."

"Eff You in two weeks?" I giggled. "What the heck?"

"Get Out" he whispered.

Happy Birthday Pete.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Chuck Norris Can Slam a Revolving Door

Whenever I am having a bad day I do one of three things. The first one involves large amounts of refined sugar and a spoon. The second one involves crying in the shower for three hours.

The third one involves Chuck Norris.

You guessed it.

I just think of my favorite Chuck Norris Facts and I know I'll be ok.

What? You don't know any Chuck Norris facts? Here are a few.

  • Chuck Norris counted to infinity-- twice.
  • Fool me once, shame on you. Fool Chuck Norris once, he will roundhouse you in the face.
  • The opening scene of "Saving Private Ryan" is loosely based on games of dodgeball Chuck Norris played in second grade.
  • There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
  • Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table because Chuck Norris only recognizes the element of surprise.
  • Chuck Norris can believe it's not butter.
  • Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
  • Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
  • When an episode of Walker Texas Ranger was aired in France, the French surrendered to Chuck Norris, just to be on the safe side.
  • There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.
  • Chuck Norris is so fast, he can run around the world and punch himself in the back of the head.
  • Chuck Norris' hand is the only hand that can beat a royal flush.
  • Chuck Norris is suing Myspace for taking the name of what he calls everything around him.
  • Guns don't kill people. Chuck Norris kills people.
  • Chuck Norris is responsible for China's over-population. He hosted a Karate tournament in Beijing and all women within 1,000 miles became pregnant instantly.
  • If you spell Chuck Norris in Scrabble, you win. Forever.
  • There is in fact an "I" in Norris, but there is no "team".... not even close.
Ahh, See I feel better already.

p.s. Ask Peter how awesome my roundhouse kick is. Seriously. It is.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Alec Baldwin-- the only liberal who totally gets me.

Let the new television season begin!

I am officially ready to ignore kids, and turn on the TV!

And can I just say that I liked 30 Rock before it was cool to like 30 rock? 

And I have always loved Alec Baldwin-- that's right I said always.

You guessed it. When Baldwin left a nasty message on his daughter's cell phone, I was totally on his side.

Now I don't know the personal details of what is going on in his family. And I don't know what kind of a person Kim Basinger is (I have a pretty good guess though) But I'll tell you what I do know, Ok, well I'll tell you two things I do know. 

1. Divorces are messy and they totally distort the appearance of things.

2. I know what teenagers are like.

Come on. Don't try to tell me that Ireland Baldwin and I are the only people on the planet who have been called rude thoughtless little pigs. And if you have truly never been called that, then you are definitely lying if you try to tell me that you've never acted like one.
The nerve of a teen's parents to pick them up two minutes late from cheer practice, or show up two minutes early for that matter. And what's up with them bringing Dominoes when we specifically requested Papa Johns? Who was it that said to be adolescent is to live the life of a delusional child star? Bingo!
In my adolescence, I could only get away with about two minutes of diva-itis before being screamed at in the car, in private. Catharsis at every stoplight! And that was like 100 years ago. So what, you can't even yell at kids anymore? What if it's the only way stop their petulant little thumbs from texting?
I'm with ya Alec, can't wait to see you again.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Memoirs of a Footsa

I'll admit, I secretly liked the dirty, steamy parts of Memoirs of a Geisha. The rest of the book was pretty good too.

If you agree with me (even a little) and want to keep it that way-- then please for the sake of your pretty bubble, close this window now.

Still Here?

I warned you.

Remember the fabulously detailed descriptions of how those gorgeous Geishas looked? The exquisite kimonos, dramatic makeup, lavish hair and accessories> Oh I just loved it.

And who can forget those shoes. Admittedly uncomfortable but so small and petite-- the ultimate symbol of femininity. Right? What a lovely picture Arthur Golden paints for his readers.

Hey Golden! I've got a few pictures for you!


Hey Pete hows about givin' me a little foot rub tonight?

I'll never think those Geisha's in the same way again. 

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Gotta Have it!

Have you ever turned on the TV at around 4 AM and gotten sucked into watching like the stupidest infomercial ever? You know they are selling crap, and you know everyone on the show is an actor, but you can't change the channel and 45 minutes later you find yourself screaming at the TV, "JUST TELL ME HOW MUCH IT COSTS AND HOW I CAN GET IT!" 

In the back of your mind,  you still sorta know it's junk but you have to have it.

That happened to Peter once, he was obsessed with this.

He watched a 2 hour infomercial this one day instead of going to work. When I came home and found him on the couch instead of in his office I said, "What the heck is going on here?" His only reply was, "This is so awesome, we have to get this, it is only sixty dollars and you get all this stuff, and I will make dinner all the time because it only takes 30 seconds to make soup and scrambled eggs and I am totally going to start working out again because the magic bullet makes the most delicious protein shakes!"

I don't remember what my reaction was because everything went kinda fuzzy and 
then black But I do remember that he went to work four hours late without being the proud owner of the Magic Bullet.

He sulked for a couple of weeks and spent hours and hours watching TV searching for the Magic Bullet, but never did see that infomercial again so he didn't know how to get it.

Then he suddenly started spending large amounts of time on craigslist. Hmmm. 

Tip: if your husband spends large amounts of time on craigslist better make sure you don't see the word "personals" in your internet history. Lucky for me, my husband isn't some weirdo--he just wanted to make me salsa in 30 seconds, awww.

I'm sure you've guessed the how the story ends. Peter buys the Magic Bullet off of craigslist and gets a "sweet deal." Unfortunately, Pete has yet to cook dinner and the Bullet has yet to change his life.

P.S. Did you know you can buy the Magic Bullet at Costco for like $20 less than what Pete paid?

The moral of the story is, if Pete wants to buy something silly off of an infomercial, don't be a jerk, just let him get it. If you don't, you may end up like me, a year later obsessed with this.


You must be insane if you don't understand why the pedegg is a must have.
Click here and watch the video--you'll see. Have you ever known anyone with an Australian accent to be wrong?

My birthday is coming up but I went so bizerk about the Bullet that I am too ashamed to ask for it.

Poor Angela.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Glad to see you came back!

I am so glad to have met so many good, honest, and supportive friends within the last two days. I really love you guys (saying in a high about to cry voice). 

I'll tell you what! You all are just the types of BFFs I  want to take swim suit shopping. No seriously! Good people that are honest and supportive. Oh, but wait! I forgot the most important thing, 
never take someone thinner than you swimsuit shopping. 

So come along with me, will you help me pick out the perfect bathing suit for next summer? Now give me your honest opinion, which one will flatter me the most?

I've finally found the swimsuits I've been looking for. These are modest and highlight the face rather than the body. Here are my choices.


What? You want your own? Ok here is the website. Only if you get the purple one, please don't plan your Lake Powell trip during the first week of August. How embarrassing would that be if we were seen at the same place and at the same time!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

My first (and hopefully only) serious post

I've recently been in a bit of a cyber scuff that has led me to realize that I need to clarify what I am doing here on this blog. 

I decided to start it after stumbling upon a blogger who was offended by seriouslysoblessed because it mocked Mormon culture. First of all, I was aghast that this girl thought that the world of SAHM Mormon bloggers represented Mormon culture. A world-wide organization of 13 million people, represented by her and her little blog. That's confidence. Actually, it's hubris. And it bothered me. But what really upset me is how perfect this girl made her life out to be. She said that she had never fought with her husband. Her children were angelic. Her blog was peppered with pictures of a spotless house that looked like it was straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue.  The more I read, the more depressed I got.  And when I jumped to the other blogs linked on hers, I saw much much more of the same. It seemed to me that these blogs were nothing but a forum for skinny pretty girls with good looking husbands with good jobs to show their friends and any other poor schleb who happened to stumble across their blog, how perfect they were. Well, what that girl didn't get was: 

SSB is not making fun of Mormon culture, it's making fun of her

I love my faith. But one thing I struggle with has nothing to do with my faith and everything to do with this culture of comparison that has been created.  

Don't you dare confuse the two.

It is not "Mormon culture," but there is a culture that some Mormon women subscribe to that I think is wholly destructive and damaging to so many women. Let's face it, Mormon women are incredible at so many things. But too often being great and being competitive go hand in hand. Why do women feel so much pressure? And why do they put that pressure on each other? You have to be the best mother, you have to be the best wife, the best cook, the best decorator. And you have to do it all while being a size 2 and wearing stilettos.

If you have a blog, you blog surf/stalk (call it what you want). I really don't spend a lot of time doing this, but whenever I do, I see impeccably designed blogs by women and mothers who don't fight with their husbands, love their life all the time, can afford incredible vacations, post pictures of clean houses, perfect birthday parties, and beautiful children with every hair in place.

Now I'm not dumb (apparently I'm not funny either). I know that no one wants to read a blog about someone's every disappointment and frustration--that would be depressing. I also know that many of you really are just sharing fun things and good news with friends and family. But if you are one of the blogs I am talking about, you are putting your slice of perfection in a public sphere like this for everyone to see. And you have to understand, the effect is that a lot of people see your representation of your family and it makes them feel bad because they don't have a perfect life and inevitably compare themselves to you. 

What is even more tragic is that when you feel pressure to be all these things, you change what is important to you. Case in point: In my little cyber spat, nearly all of the 80 plus responses that weighted-in on the side of my "cyber opponent" reassured her that she was a better person than me. Response after response was the same. I must be a bitter middle-aged woman, unhappy with my own life, a terrible mother, a bad Mormon. And my favorite, I must be ugly. (One of these detractors said, after viewing my Facebook page, "I didn't expect you to be pretty." Doesn't that speak volumes?)

Am I any of these things? Sometimes, and I'm not afraid to admit it. And I hope this blog will encourage and protect other women who may also sometimes be sub-par mothers, unhappy, middle-aged, ugly, but are better than me because they have rejected these pressures and decided to focus on what really matters.

I am a bit more caustic than the author of seriouslysoblessed. Some people think it's funny, some don't. But that's who I am.  Its the style I use to try in a small (and sometimes clumsy) way to change what I think is very destructive behavior among people who should know better than to be doing that to each other.  How sad is it that Utah consumes more antidepressants per capita than any other state? 

However, I do regret the hurt feelings I've caused.
I have not actively tried to be hurtful.  
I will not single people out.
And I sure as hell won't do it to someone who has 80+ blog links and 1200 facebook friends. 

But I will have fun blogging and at least trying to be "funny." Sometimes it will be at the expense of others, but that's my way.  

I do believe in being real and genuine. I am not going to pretend I'm something I'm not.

It's about Authenticity.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Awww Poor Pete.

I'm not saying I believe in Karma. I'm just tellin'  you that when you buy your second and third bikes within a year of each other, something like this is bound to happen.

The Patriots half ironman, instead of being dominated by Pete, was dominated by hurricane Hannah. 


But Pete didn't let that get 'im down. Instead, he poured himself into his spandex and hot pink cycling shirt (oohh baby) and decided to ride his bike to work as fast as his little legs could pedal him. Too bad a sharp corner and pile of logs had other plans for my man. 

Double Bummer

This is the only pic I have that isn't NSFW (like anyone with a real job sees this blog) but if you'd like to see the real good stuff.....

Hey, Michelangelo--this is what a real man's leg looks like in case you want to know.

Pete, shoulda shaved your hinie too I guess.

Don't let Pete's sisters know he shaves his legs, they are real mean to him and he'd never live it down.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Mu Goo Gai Help Me!

All I want is some decent Chinese food. Is that too much to ask?

Seriously, I am surrounded by Asians, where do they go in Vienna when they want chinese take out?

I have managed to get great Viet, Korean, Thai, Japanese even Indonesian food here. But the best Chinese place I have found obviously changed owners because news flash: YOU DON'T PUT PEPPERS AND CHERRIES IN GENERAL TSO'S CHICKEN! 

I mean it, if you have any suggestions, please let me know. But if you say, try New China King, Hunan Tasty, or Lo's, I might punch you in the neck.

Friday, September 5, 2008


This morning I was teaching my spinning class (aka flexing my rock hard quads and pretending to be a real athlete). Anyway, I have this great punjabi remix of a Nelly Furtado song (seriously - click on it then come back to me. It's the best song you've heard in a while, I don't care what kind of music you like.) and I realized something. I never even saw a real Indian person until I was 15 and it was when I went to France. Before that, the closest I had come to seeing an Indian (from India) was Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom. 
These two Indian sisters (we spoke only French to each other) fed me the best chicken I've ever had and then showed me one of their Indian musicals.

Tip: Make friends with the meat eating Indians.

If you have never seen an Indian movie, here is a sample. They are all musicals.

Tip: If you think you do a sweet impression of a Bollywood musical, don't do it within the first five minutes of meeting and Indian. There is no way they'll think you are as funny as you do. Plus they might be Pakistani

Anyway, little did I know that 5 years later I would be staying in Malaysia with Sanjiv's parents, (a trip that would give me a permanent phobia of hot dog sized cockroaches) trying to keep his mother from feeding my three-month-old baby a raw egg.

Tip: If  you take a baby to a developing country, go ahead and let the homeless people kiss her on the face. For some reason they seem a lot cleaner than American homeless people.

And now here I am 10+ years later. I know that curry is a sauce (not a spice dummy). I know that in India, if you are half-way smart, you go to the States and become an engineer. If you are stupid, you should just be a lawyer or a doctor or a realtor (that was not a joke-- well the realtor part was). I know that from just one Indian's name, another Indian can tell what part of India they are from, what language they speak, and what caste they belong to. And I know that there will always be samosas at Shivani and Vikram's birthday parties. 

Sanjiv, Abinav, Anshul, Vikram, Shivani, and Tamiguptadiptivishnushivahamnimshica, you've changed my life.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

She has a Pregnant 17 year old!

Just kidding, that's not what I want to talk about because I would like to post something original. If you want to read a SAHM's oh so humble opinion about that, click on one of the blogs to the right, I'm sure my lame friends have plenty to say. 

So remember back towards the tail end of the writers strike when the talk shows started coming back? Well, I read (yes, I read) an article that talked about which talk show writers actually write their own material, and which ones just read and repeat what they've been given in a funny way. It was painfully obvious during the silly strike. 

People who don't write their own stuff: Leno (duh) Letterman (who gets credit for being funny because of his good suits and weird teeth) and John Stewart (I know--he had me fooled too!)

People who do: Conan O'Brian, Steve Colbert.

Now The Conan O'Brian Show is on at like 1 in the morning. I watch it all the time because let's face it, I don't have a real job to get up for the next morning-- I generally spend my day watching more TV with a bag of chocolate chips in one hand and a jar of Skppy's in the other. Then when Pete comes home, I act all stressed like I've been busy molding young minds and stuff. But back to my point, Conan is past your bed time, you can tivo him ya know. If you already do that and want something more-- have you read his commencement speech at Harvard?

He really is a genius. 

Ok, now get the young kids out of the room and watch this next clip. Colbert isn't bad either. Thanks for sharing and helping us get to Hell faster Susan.

Monday, September 1, 2008

First Day of School

Dear Mosby Woods Elementary,
   If you are going to ask me to buy this list of school supplies, then I expect you to turn my child into a freaking genius
Unfortunately this was not the case last year.

Example: The poetry unit.

While my daughter was writing poems like this.


They are fast.
They have tails.
They have big teeth.
We can ride them.

 John Foong was writing poems like this.

The Three Stages of the Earth

The Crust, digging, hot all.
One, hotter on two, and three. Thick molasses
In the air.

At least she's not writing poems like this.


Book Buddy
Book Buddy
I like when he reads to me
Friend's Brother
Friend's Brother
Comes every Friday
Surprised when he doesn't come.

Note the discrepancy? Don't even get me started on math and science.

You're welcome for the school supplies.

Your friend,