In Which I Compare Myself To A Real Housewife

I'm going to admit this publicly, even though it shames Hot Guy: I watch all of the Real Housewives shows. I even watch their aggressive cousin, Mob Wives. I will sometimes think about these people as I go through my day. I've been known to read gossip blogs about them. I comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I haven't bought any of their books or products. It's not that I'm a FAN or anything. . . .

But I've wasted enough of my life on these shows to know that most of these bitches are delusional, narcissistic or both. So I should not have been shocked when one of them threw a hissy fit because her daughter eloped. (It was on last week's Real Housewives of Orange County, for those of you keeping score.) All the mom kept saying was how the daughter had deprived her of planning the wedding and picking out the dress together and all these occasions she'd dreamed about since the daughter was born.

I'm pretty sure that if one of my kids elopes without telling me, I'm not going to whine about missing wedding stress. I'll probably be bummed I missed the ceremony, but I've actually never fantasized about anything to do with my children's weddings. Possibly because my oldest is 7, though according to Vicki (the Real Housewife) I should have been thinking about wedding dress shopping the second they cut her out of me.

I spent half a second worrying that a Real Housewife loved her kids more than I loved mine, and then I realized that throwing a hissy fit about your 25 year old eloping is not a sign of a loving parent. I don't spend a lot of time fantasizing my kids' futures, because I figure my job is to make sure that they can have happy and productive futures - not fulfill my wish list.

Although I do have fantasies of traveling around Europe together. To be honest, though, I also have fantasies of traveling around Europe with just Hot Guy. And alone. I guess what I'm saying is that the kids aren't a required part of my European fantasy, like they would be about walking a kid down the aisle or whatever.

Except that I don't think I've ever fantasized about a wedding. Why? Because I spent my youth fantasizing about my prom and watching movies that fetishized it (Pretty in Pink came out approximately 2 years before my junior prom, okay?) and it was such a letdown. I had fun, but there was no romance, no magical moment, no suddenly being the belle of the ball. Hell, no one even dropped pig blood on the prom queen. If prom wasn't all it was cracked up to be, why would I daydream about a wedding?

What I'd really like to know is, which one of us is normal? Do you all daydream about your kids' weddings like Housewife Vicki? Would you be pissed if your kid eloped? Or would you send a gift and start demanding grandchildren, like I'm going to?

Gobsmacked By The Boobs

I'm pretty sure a woman caught me staring at her boobs today.

This would not be a big deal under normal circumstances. I stare at people all the time. Either because I'm thinking about something else or because I'm a nosy bitch. Or because I think I remember the person, but can't remember how. (I also eavesdrop compulsively. It's the writer in me. Or the nosy bitch part. Whatever.) Anyway, normally I smile when caught. Or escape behind a pile of produce.

But boob staring, that's a little different. I suppose if I were a guy or a lesbian, I'd have learned how to do this more subtly, but being a straight chick hasn't prepared me for such things.

I was. . . .gobsmacked by the boobs. (I have been reading too many books set in England. But it totally works here, doesn't it?)

My own have become rather disappointing lately. After nursing 3 kids and celebrating their 22nd year (approximately), their formerly perky fullness has deflated and now seems to be oozing toward my armpits.

So I may have been slightly jealous when I saw boobs that looked exactly like mine used to look. On a woman my age, no less.

On a woman, I'm pretty sure, who did not have them a few weeks ago.

Maybe she found the bra Holy Grail. Maybe that's what happens to her boobs when she gains a few pounds or gets preggo. Maybe she had implants. I don't know.

And while I do know who she is and she knows who I am (unfortunately), we're not on the kind of terms where I can say, "Oh my God, you stole the awesome boobs I had at 20! How?"

So I just stared like a 13 year old boy. Well, not really. There was no lust involved. It was envy. But I had all the finesse and class of a 13 year old. So it kinda works.

I know she saw me staring. I hope she thinks I'm just jealous and not that I'm having sexual fantasies about her. Not that there's anything wrong with having sexual fantasies about acquaintances, if that's your thing. But if I was having sexual fantasies about my acquaintances, I would never choose her.

(And why would I fantasize about acquaintances when Friday Night Lights will be back on in 2 days? And I can watch Curtis Stone on Celebrity Apprentice? And. . . uh, I think I'm getting off topic. )

I am sure I am blowing this out of proportion. Right?

I May Just Be In Need of More Sleep

When I moved to Kansas City one of my favorite things to do was to go to the Beaumont. Despite all the traveling I'd done, the Beaumont was something completely new to me - a "country" bar and club. There was line dancing and two stepping and people in cowboy hats. There was a mechanical bull. And there were cheap jello shots. What could be more exciting to a girl from the New Jersey suburbs?

I quickly embraced line dancing, which seemed like a great way to sober up and cancel out those jello shots. I liked the flirting opportunities that the slow "couples" dancing provided. But for some reason, I could not learn to two step. Many cute (and possibly a few not so cute, but let's leave them out of it, okay?) guys in cowboy hats tried to teach me, but I never managed to learn. It was depressing. I was never athletic, never able to hit the ball or kick it in the right direction, but dancing I could always do.

Except the two-step. I still can't do it. It's like a foreign language to me. Except not. Because I was pretty good at foreign languages - hell, I can still read a lot of French. It's more like chemistry was for me. Although with chemistry, I had the misfortune of being in honors chemistry - though someone should have warned me that just because I was good at biology didn't mean I would be good at chemistry. The other challenge that I had with chemistry was that my teacher was crazy. Sometimes instead of having us do experiments during labs he would just do a double lecture about whatever was pissing him off that day. He also had a thick French accent, which made understanding what the hell he was talking about even more difficult for me.

But I guess the point is the same - chemistry still doesn't make sense to me and I still couldn't two-step if you paid me. I was thinking about them last night - chemistry and two-stepping - while I couldn't sleep (not that they were keeping me up, breastfeeding was). The two-stepping doesn't really matter, as the chances of me going to the Beaumont again are next to none. But I blame my chemistry ignorance on my inability to cook. And apparently I'm supposed to cook during this stay-at-home mom gig. And I wonder, I was able to understand algebra and trigonometry and ballet. . . why not chemistry and two-stepping? How is that possible?

So I ask you, dear internets, are there odd gaps in your abilities?

Memes, Or How Britney Spears Stole My Thoughts

I still love it when I get tagged for a meme. Even if I don't actually do the meme (because I've done it before, or because I'm forgetful), I still feel exceptionally flattered. And even though I've tried to make my meme appreciation widely known, I've still never been tagged with one of those "random facts about yourself" memes. I used to wonder if people thought that they already knew enough about my weirdness. Was I sharing too much? Did people think I was TOO WEIRD?

But now I can forget about those concerns, because the wonderful Merry at Mom and More tagged me for this meme:

The rules:

a. Link to the person who tagged you.
b. Post the rules on your blog.
c. Write six random things about yourself.
d. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
e. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.
f. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

So, here are six bits of random TMI:

1. You know how people have "the naked dream"? Where they're naked at school or work or something? I've never had that dream. In my exposure dreams, I'm always just missing my pants and underwear, or I'm wearing a short skirt with no underwear (clearly, Britney & Co. have stolen that idea from me).

2. This might be enough to get me declared "Un-American", but I don't like the taste of coffee or peanut butter. Even when they're mixed with chocolate, I can't stand them.

3. When I was little and I heard Muzak, I became convinced that my life had turned into a television show. I knew that commercial breaks happened when I went to the bathroom, too.

4. I'm an only child. And I'm the only one I know that STILL hates being an only child. Seriously, no matter what marital or emotional discord that would result, I would be thrilled if someone turned up claiming to be a product of one of my parents' youthful indiscretions. (BTW, I know that this will not happen, seeing as my life is not actually a television show.)

5. I read exceptionally quickly. When they used to have those speed-reading course commercials, I thought the guy's finger was moving too slowly.

6. I can't get high. Whenever I smoked pot, at best I felt nothing, at worst I got was sleepy and nauseous. Except for once when I had REALLY good stuff in Amsterdam - and then I was high for three days. On my second trip to Amsterdam I was too afraid to try it again (3 days is a LONG time to need that much pizza), so I just stuck to alcohol. I am a failed stoner.

Now, who to tag? Who hasn't done this meme already? Who doesn't mind getting memes? Whose answers would be fascinating?

Travis

Cousin Greg

Mary Kate

33tekfan

Kathryn


Kendra

PS - I apologize if you were hoping to get tagged and I didn't tag you - please feel tagged. And if I tagged you and you've already done this meme fifty times and/or you hate memes, I'm sorry. Consider yourself untagged.