Cold Feet

I bet you thought I forgot about this, huh? DIDNTJA?! Well I didnt. I just got an eensy bit busy. But I definitely had to find time to share this crap with you. Here goes.

In the course of any relationship there are always running arguments. Discussions that can never be solved and lack any real relevancy or rationality. Take us, for instance. Every night when we go to sleep we will read together in bed for a while. This usually sparks the argument about who left the bed in a disarray, much huffing and puffing over how much room the other person is occupying and who has more blankets. One evening Chris made the snide comment that "I guess it makes complete sense that a miniature tornado forms over the bed after you leave it in the morning." To which I agreed. It certainly does make sense that a small tornado destroys the bed after I get out of it. I would never hog the entire bed immediately after he exits it, twisting up blankets and sheets and pulling all 9 pillows over my head in an effort to shut out all sound and light. Clearly, it is the work of a bored whirlwind.


I am also a bit of a traditionalist. I realize I am a dying breed (I prefer to think of it as a dying breed rather than a dinosaur for obvious reasons) but in this house hold Chris does man stuff and I do woman stuff. I would much rather do dishes, laundry, and toilets than sweat my ass off outside in the heat mowing the lawn and changing oil. If I wanted to do all that noise I would be single, okay? Now, I absolutely have the intelligence to do what I deem 'man stuff' but I like to think of myself as the smarter for getting Chris to do it, instead of me, if you see what I mean. Not only that, but if I let Chris do anything in my kitchen, all manner of bad things happen. He never puts the stuff back the way I have it arranged. Whatever made him think that plastic containers for leftovers go on top of the refrigerator which is a good 6" taller than me, I'll never know. I expect one day he'll feel froggy enough to do dishes and somehow manage to unleash a swarm of locusts in there or something. So in the interest of keeping peace in our house, he stays the hell out of my kitchen and I let him take the garbage out twice a week. To some, it's sexist. To me, it's a fair deal.

Which brings about this latest bout of verbal diarrhea. One evening, a week or so ago, we were snug under the covers when I had a tingling sensation in my feet. I realized that the blankets were starting the thawing process on them and decided to help things along by sticking them on Chris's thigh. After flinching and letting out a very unmanly hiss, he turned to me and this is what happened.

Him: "Is there something I can help you with?"
Me: "Nope, I'm good."
Him: "Your feet are really really cold."
Me: "I know but they're warming up quite nicely."
At this point in the conversation things were getting a bit testy. His thigh was undergoing the same process I imagine peas do when they're frozen into a bag and he was interrupting my very rare but precious reading time.
Him: "Would you please take your feet off my leg. Your feet are freezing."
Well now I had to put the book down and address the situation. (See: Retrain)Me: "Who does all the cooking and cleaning and stuff? I do. So you can warm up my feet when they are cold. It's a man's job and you're the man so suck it up and deal."
Which then sparked an argument about what a man's job consisted off. I'll spare you that and get straight to the insults which lasted long after my feet were nice and toasty and well into the next morning.
I believe he stated that my feet were harkening the ghost of the Titanic, that they kept cheese cold, and I think he threw something about the North Pole in there for good measure. I'll let him weigh in on that.


If you look closely, the shape of the glacier is very similar to my foot. Okay, so it doesnt look like my foot at all, which must mean that Chris was just whining.

In other news, my mother moved in behind me which has been great for me. Between her and my sister, they've given me loads more free time to get important stuff done like organizing my nail polishes by color and playing internet drinking games.

Unfortunately for her, my mother's pets have decided to try to kill her. The dog pulled her out of the house and down the back steps where she landed quite unceremoniously on the ground. The only saving grace was she didnt hit a landmine while lolling about in the grass but is now sporting road rash on various limbs. Both of the cats have bitten her, one for my mother daring to put on a shoe he had been sleeping on, and the other actually bit her hard enough to leave a wicked puncture wound in her right arm complete with swelling and bruising.

My sister's father came to visit my sister after they got moved in and promptly locked his keys in his vehicle. I walked out the back step and slipped, falling on my ass and seriously damaging my street cred. A couple of weeks ago, someone driving a black Honda Civic with factory rims and shitty band stickers tried to run down Chris while he was walking with the baby in the carrier on his chest. They were headed to the neighborhood park when the car gunned the engine over a speed bump and aimed it toward him. He had to jump in the grass to avoid being hit. He sprained his ankle and left some of his skin on the sidewalk. The best part? The cop taking the report didnt even do a drive through of the neighborhood to try and find the driver.

As of this writing no one has been gravely injured but I feel that may change in the near future as some sort of ominous convergence has opened up over our two residences.

The baby and I have been having lots of conversations. I'm not entirely sure what we're saying to each other. Most of what's going on is a lot of "AAAAHHHHHHEEEEEEEEHHHHLLLLLLLLOOURURURUAH's" and the like. I'm either promising her a pony for her 8th birthday or to blow her college fund on margarita mix for my nerves. I'm pretty sure it's the latter. I have the best kid, ever.

The other night Double Indemnity was on and Chris and I got into a discussion about film noir. I told him it was a terrible genre because the women (except for Casablanca - which had a terrible ending by the way) are always backstabbing hoes and that he had no romance in his soul. He's seriously reconsidering his decision to put a ring on my finger. Too late for him, I already popped out his kid. HA!

P.S. This post is dedicated to Catherine. Her shoe collection is better than mine. I hope she wills it to me.

Poking the Bear with a Stick

Sometimes it just doesnt pay to poke the bear with the stick. Other times, well, other times it's just fun.


Him: [Loud belch while exiting the bedroom]
Me: "WHAT! You just sounded like a LIVING ORGANISM."
Him: [Pokes head back into bedroom and quirks an eyebrow at me]

Yeah. I actually said that.



After a long ramble about all of the fun things we're going to teach the baby.


Me: "You do know how to change oil in a car, right?"
Him: "Yes." [Glare + Defensive Posture]
Me: "I know how to check the oil in my car."
Him: [Staring out the window in the vain hope that I'll shut up]
Me: "You just make a really sad face and look cute, and someone will do it for you."
Him: [Long sigh]

I'm pretty sure he's rethinking this whole him + me = procreation of the gremlin thing.



While waiting together at an office a woman walked in with a newborn. A brand new newborn. I got all gooey and melty and turned to Chris who was holding our at the time 3 month old.


Me: "AWWWW! Dont you want another one??"
Him: [I could hear his testicle shriveling on the spot] "I like this one just fine. We dont need another."
Me: [Big sad eyes]
Him: "Well if you really want another one, we could talk about it. But I really like the one we already have."

To clarify, I dont want another baby. I just like yanking his chain.

Captain Underpants!

I want to write things, really I do. It's just that my life is boring. All I've got is lots of diaper stories and arguments with my almost 3mo baby. Nobody wants to hear that. Heck, I dont want to hear it. I even have a whole bit in my head about socks but it's just not that funny. Chris has started several blog posts but keeps getting interrupted. Since he's awake before anyone, he has morning duty with the baby and she's been getting up earlier than ususal.

A few days ago we had this conversation as he was leaving for work.

Him: "I'll see you when I get home."
Me: "Okay. I'll be here unless I decide to join the circus."
Him: "Okay then. If you do that drop baby girl off with me before you go."
Me: "Hell no. She's part of my act."
Him: "What!? I dont want baby girl around clowns and midgets."
Me: "What's wrong with clowns and midgets?"
Him: "What's not wrong with clowns and midgets?"*

Speaking of midgets and clowns, Chris has informed me that there will be a new Muppets movie coming out in November. Since the gremlin arrived in our lives, Chris's penchant for movie watching has come in handy. One such evening, I rediscovered the Muppets. First we watched The Great Muppet Caper and then The Muppets Take Manhattan. There's a scene in one of the movies that Chris had to point out to me. The muppets were riding bicycles in a park and while it didnt occur to me at the time, he reminded me that the scene was very well done. We had a clear view of all of the muppets (legs included) and they were pedaling their bikes. With today's technology, something like that is much easier to achieve but back in the early 80's, that scene was amazing for its time.



I'm excited to see the new movie as I like one of the main actors. I hope they do a good job of it. Chris says he thinks that Jim Henson's family is still in creative control of the Muppets so hopefully they havent gone the way of George Lucas. I think we all know what I mean, there.

And, since it's Wednesday I'll leave you with this:

*Since he's 6'6, his idea of midgets is just about everybody that's chest level and lower. So to his way of thinking, I'm a midget, too.

The Bigfoot of Frogs

One evening I was sitting outside on the front porch. All was calm until I heard something bang against the aluminum bottom of our porch. Certain it was one of the stray cats misbehaving, I ignored the noise. Then, around the corner came a giant frog. She hopped square into the doorway and we both had a moment of surprise. It was clear that neither one of us was expecting the other. She was huge. At least 6" tall and as big around. But she was pretty. Beautiful even, and I'm certain that she is a she because she has eyelashes. Now, I know what you are going to say, that frogs dont have eyelashes but I will reject your reality and substitute my own. My frog has eyelashes. If you want a frog without eyelashes, that's your business.

Being a person that enjoys the technology that today's world has to offer I immediately pulled out my cell phone to snap a few photos. Unsurprisingly, the battery was too low to load the camera function. I stood, intending to go into the house and return with a real camera. Evidently the frog knew what I was about and she turned, every so clumsily, and hopped away, banging again into the porch frame as she made her egress. For weeks as I told the tale of my beautiful frog, I had no photographic evidence to back up my wild story. I knew she wasnt a bullfrog. I've seen them before, and they are ugly. And also very noisy. Neither of which are accurate descriptors of my little beauty. Everyone I told the story to regarded me with disbelief and mockery.

Everyone except Chris, that is. He listened patiently through many hours of useless chatter, such as follows:
"Where do you think she lives?" (Around.)
"I bet she was hungry. Maybe we should feed her." (She has plenty to eat, we're in Florida, the land of the exceptionally large insects.)
"Maybe she's lonely." (I'm pretty sure that isnt the case.)
"Well, why dont we go frogging? Maybe we could find her, then." (No.)

Last eve, Chris had trouble going to sleep. We stepped outside very late into the night and lo and behold, there was Nessie! Smack in the middle of our porch with no quick means of escape. I made a gleeful sound and Chris said, "Wow, that is a big frog." I was so happy to see her I stood there, struck again by her powerful presence. Chris prodded me into action, telling me to go get the camera which I dutifully did. When I came back out she was still in her same resting spot in the middle of the porch. I suppose she was paralyzed by Chris's amazing magnetism, as I often am.

I snap off a few shots, but the light from the camera flash agitated her and she took off.

Me: "I want her! Catch her for me."
Him: .... (Silence usually means he's trying to gauge the seriousness of my intent and think up ways to talk me out of whatever notion has flown into my head.)
Me: "We could catch her and feed her and keep her in a terrarium and stuff."
Him: "I think I could go to sleep now."

He gently steered me back into the house and without further ado, here is NESSIE!

When Derp Met Snark

Me: (talking to our daughter while he was buckling her into her infant carrier seat) "Aww, dont fuss baby girl. We're going out to eat, and we never do that so today is special."
Him: "We just went out."
Me: "No, we didnt."
Him: "Yes, we did."
Me: "Oh yeah? When was that?"
Him: "Sunday."
Me: "We didnt go anywhere on Sunday."
Him: "Yes, we did. You and baby girl went to church, and after we all went out to Steak & Shake and had lunch with Eric and Christy."
Me: "Oh yeah. I told you we'd just gone out this week. Gosh, you can be so forgetful."

I would just like to add that none of this was said with any heat, and he never faltered in his task of buckling the gremlin into her car seat. Every word coming out of his mouth was spoken with the longsuffering patience that a man can only achieve once he's come to terms with what his future will be.

Chris and I met many many years ago in a video shop. You remember those? 'Please be kind and rewind', and how long have those been defunct? I owned a beeper, for crying out loud. So now that I've revealed our general age, let me continue. It was coming on summer time between my junior and senior year of high school. He had already graduated and was taking some college courses at the local community college. A friend of his, James, that he'd met in college worked at the video store. Since James had a crush on my then best friend, Chris and I spent a lot of time together making fun of the two of them.

Then one day, not long into our friendship, I got an invitation to come to his house for dinner. Once I figured out that his mom could cook, well, they were never able to get rid of me after that. I would just randomly turn up at meal times and his mother never batted an eyelash. On a side note, Chris's stepfather Ron is a great guy but very quiet. It was after about 6 months of me coming to dinner 4 nights a week before he finally actually spoke to me. There we all were, sitting at the dinner table and I heard Ron speak but not what he'd said. I was too busy stuffing my face as fast as I could with whatever yummy good-ness Chris's mom had cooked that night. After a few moments, I come up for air to find everyone staring at me. I was midchew, deer in headlights expression in place wondering why everyone was looking at me before Chris's mom said, "Christine, Ron asked you a question." He did? What the hell? WHY WOULD HE DO A THING LIKE THAT? But then I realized that that sort of cemented my acceptance into their family and I went back to more important things, like eating.

Chris and I became best friends over that summer. For a long time, whenever one of us was in a tough spot we would lean on each other. Time and circumstance changed the nature of our friendship, but through the years we kept tabs on one another even through long distances. I was always a bit derpy and he was big on the snark so the name for our blog is very appropriate. That was also what Chris refers to as the 'Summer of No Sleep'. You might be putting your own spin on that, like maybe it was for a good cause such as working two jobs to put himself through college, but no. He was just doing it to see how long he could stay awake. He made quite an impression on me, though. I remember clearly one time how he stepped in front of me and another person who was intent on doing me harm. It was my own doing and I deserved every bit of the physical punishment that was coming my way but he protected me anyway. It's always good to know that one has the loyalty of one's minions. I mean, friends.

Looking back, it was sooo obvious we were meant for each other. I make sure to berate him at least once a month for us not getting together back then. We could have saved ourselves a ton of baggage and a few hits to our credit rating if he'd just gotten off his ass and asked me for a date. Clearly, this is all his fault.

The only downside to our relationship so far as I can tell is that sometimes we know each other too well. In any relationship, the key is to be able to tell a lie. I'm not talking a lie about where you were last night when you didn't come home. I mean the social, polite lies that everyone will tell to their partner on occasion. Chris, unfortunately, knows all of my tells which means I have to work harder with my attempts to rattle his cage. Just this past Thursday I got him really good. Man, that was fun. I'll let him share that one with you if he wants too. On the flip side, Chris has a lot of fun with me. He knows that I'm gullible, and he can play the straight man like nobody's business. I will give him a suspicious glare, diligently searching for any sign that he might be bullshitting me but too often he sucks me in with whatever line he's feeding me. He knows when he's got me good, too, damn his hide.

And now for something completely different.

I began clicking the 'Next Blog' link at the top to see what we were next too. All of these family type blogs kept popping up, one after the other. I have to say, the content was extraordinarily boring. All of these blogs have family photos as headers with everyone dressed in matching outfits and subject lines like, "Timmy just cut his first teeth!" and "Sara likes her new sunglasses!" If this is what most of them have to offer it's no wonder everyone yawns when we tell them we have a blog. Their time would be better spent trolling for porn than clogging up the internet with that drivel. The only blog that appeared remotely interesting through my random search was one about cake. It was great at first, I mean, who doesnt love cake? But then it made me hungry so I had to stop looking at the posts.

I think I'm done now but before I publish this crap, I want to share my excitement for you about an upcoming blog post Chris and I are working on. I wont even try to make you work for hints, it's totally about Star Wars. I am so giddy I've been peeing myself which is getting a little awkward.

If you were a fly on the wall...

A while back, I watched this video and made the comment to Chris that I thought he was like the hippo and I was like the dog. What I meant was that he's all cool and creatively inclined while I'm like a little chihuahua dancing around his heels saying, "Loooook at meeeeeee!" But this is how the conversation went:

Me: "I feel like you're the hippo and I'm the dog."
Him: "Are you calling me fat?"
Me: "I dont know, are you calling me a bitch?"