Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit!
Gutsy likes my drink. It's Arizona green tea with pomegranate. It's a grown-up drink. It has... green tea. And stuff. And it's mine. Mine! I only gave him some so that he could make an icky face, tell me he hates it and never want any again. Then I would only have to defend it from the likes of Geekster, who naturally has good taste (obviously, given who he's married to.)
Sadly, Gutsy just licked his lips, said 'can I have some more, please?' and proceeded to empty the rest of my delicious green tea with pomegranate into his cup.
I take full responsibility for raising my children with impeccable taste and class. I suppose that if I have to sacrifice some of my delicious drink it's but a small price to pay. I can sleep well at night, knowing they won't confuse melted Velveeta on Triscuits with an hors d'oeuvre or start referring to taco bake as a 'special occasion platter.'
So, I met an old friend of mine at the mall the other day. We grew up together. One of those 'we're friends because our parents are friends' deals. She was always snobby, but I overlooked that. Until that one time we were at summer camp and my parents pulled me out because she and some other girls ganged up on me and kept calling me names. It made me cry a lot. I'm still scarred enough that I won't send my children to summer camp. I'm not paying $200/week so that mean boys can pick on my boys. What kind of fool do you take me for?
Anyway, even after I grew up and realized she was a snob, I still felt obligated to organize a baby shower for her. After all, her mother had organized one for Intrepid and also for Gutsy, AKA, The Baby Who Took So Long To Get Here That His Parents Had Given Away All The Baby Stuff They Got From The First Shower. So, naturally, when Snooterella got knocked up, it was time to put my happy face on and throw her a shower that I knew would in no way meet her high standards.
She looked mildly impressed at said shower. And, to be honest, when Snooterella looks mildly impressed that can be considered a job well done. She had a wedding planner for her wedding. Yes, she's one of those people. You know the type I'm talking about. We all know at least a couple of those people. And if you're one of those people you're going to get offended that I called her 'those people', but secretly you know I'm right.
Anyway, Snooterella greeted me in the mall and said a brief hello. I suppose I should feel honoured that she even bothered. I didn't even recognize her at first, to be honest. I would have just kept on walking in all my oblivion. Even after she said hello it took me a few seconds to realize that she was, indeed, Snooterella.
Let me stop myself there for a second. For those of you who read my blog (the four of you) who happen to be in recovery (maybe one of you) you may recall a slogan often used in 12 step groups called 'live and let live'. Yes, it's true: I'm supposed to be non-judgmental as much as possible and try and understand my fellow human beings. I'm supposed to attempt to see the good and the beauty in everyone.
I do that. I do that right after I blog about it.
Look: I might initially be judgmental of some people. I'm just an average person, despite my seemingly godly intelligence, wit and wisdom. I need to vent like everyone. I require a spot to let loose and get it all off my chest. This, dearies, is my spot. I am not a functional human being on these cyber pages. I'm a self-centered, egotistical bitch.
The great thing is that, if you judge me, you also suck. So that makes you no better than me. Neener neener.
Back to my story: Snooterella spent about 3 1/2 minutes chatting with me. Enough to ask me about the boys, meet Spawnling (the only one I had with me) and comment on her seven-months-along pregnancy (I didn't know she was pregnant at all, which goes to show how often we speak). She pinched her lips shut a couple of times when I mentioned that I see her nephews' pictures on Facebook. She rolled her eyes when I asked about her family, and she demanded that her daughter say hello to the baby because it was rude not to. She's breeding a mini-her: be nice to the people you look down on. At least, when they're around. I mean, how dare her three-year-old look at toys in a toy store when she should be talking to a baby who doesn't talk back? What's wrong with her, anyway? Her mother has obviously failed at parenting because her preschooler lacks social skills. Hmph.
I'm trash to her. Always have been and always will be. She judges me and I know that. She always looked down on me because she was popular and I was lucky if I wasn't the last one picked for dodge ball. That was when I realized she was actually embarrassed to know me. She married her high school sweetheart, finished school, got a great job and planned a pregnancy. I married my high school sweetheart after making him my baby daddy and dropping out of high school. My 'good job' consists of making peanut butter sandwiches better than anyone else I know.
Meh. That's what I say. Meh. Know why? Because despite my occasional feelings of tear-my-hair-out-stress, I'm happy. I wake up 99.9% of mornings and feel very grateful that I'm alive, married to a great guy and caretaker of some huggable gremlins.
Also, my house is bigger than hers now. That helps me feel better.
Status is a funny thing, isn't it? What you have, where you went to school (or if you went to school, as in my case), where you live, what you drive, what you own, it all matters. Just recently I got a message from a girl I went to high school with. I asked her how she was doing and gave her the 'married, three kids, staying at home, just moved into a new house and it's busy' message. This is the email I received (identifiable parts taken out). I leave you with it to ponder. Heck, I've been pondering it for weeks and have yet to reply. What the hell do you say to this?
Yeah... um... I'll be right over for that swim. Maybe I'll bring my friend, Snooterella. Watch out, though. Her daughter doesn't always say hello to people.
Gutsy likes my drink. It's Arizona green tea with pomegranate. It's a grown-up drink. It has... green tea. And stuff. And it's mine. Mine! I only gave him some so that he could make an icky face, tell me he hates it and never want any again. Then I would only have to defend it from the likes of Geekster, who naturally has good taste (obviously, given who he's married to.)
Sadly, Gutsy just licked his lips, said 'can I have some more, please?' and proceeded to empty the rest of my delicious green tea with pomegranate into his cup.
I take full responsibility for raising my children with impeccable taste and class. I suppose that if I have to sacrifice some of my delicious drink it's but a small price to pay. I can sleep well at night, knowing they won't confuse melted Velveeta on Triscuits with an hors d'oeuvre or start referring to taco bake as a 'special occasion platter.'
So, I met an old friend of mine at the mall the other day. We grew up together. One of those 'we're friends because our parents are friends' deals. She was always snobby, but I overlooked that. Until that one time we were at summer camp and my parents pulled me out because she and some other girls ganged up on me and kept calling me names. It made me cry a lot. I'm still scarred enough that I won't send my children to summer camp. I'm not paying $200/week so that mean boys can pick on my boys. What kind of fool do you take me for?
Anyway, even after I grew up and realized she was a snob, I still felt obligated to organize a baby shower for her. After all, her mother had organized one for Intrepid and also for Gutsy, AKA, The Baby Who Took So Long To Get Here That His Parents Had Given Away All The Baby Stuff They Got From The First Shower. So, naturally, when Snooterella got knocked up, it was time to put my happy face on and throw her a shower that I knew would in no way meet her high standards.
She looked mildly impressed at said shower. And, to be honest, when Snooterella looks mildly impressed that can be considered a job well done. She had a wedding planner for her wedding. Yes, she's one of those people. You know the type I'm talking about. We all know at least a couple of those people. And if you're one of those people you're going to get offended that I called her 'those people', but secretly you know I'm right.
Anyway, Snooterella greeted me in the mall and said a brief hello. I suppose I should feel honoured that she even bothered. I didn't even recognize her at first, to be honest. I would have just kept on walking in all my oblivion. Even after she said hello it took me a few seconds to realize that she was, indeed, Snooterella.
Let me stop myself there for a second. For those of you who read my blog (the four of you) who happen to be in recovery (maybe one of you) you may recall a slogan often used in 12 step groups called 'live and let live'. Yes, it's true: I'm supposed to be non-judgmental as much as possible and try and understand my fellow human beings. I'm supposed to attempt to see the good and the beauty in everyone.
I do that. I do that right after I blog about it.
Look: I might initially be judgmental of some people. I'm just an average person, despite my seemingly godly intelligence, wit and wisdom. I need to vent like everyone. I require a spot to let loose and get it all off my chest. This, dearies, is my spot. I am not a functional human being on these cyber pages. I'm a self-centered, egotistical bitch.
The great thing is that, if you judge me, you also suck. So that makes you no better than me. Neener neener.
Back to my story: Snooterella spent about 3 1/2 minutes chatting with me. Enough to ask me about the boys, meet Spawnling (the only one I had with me) and comment on her seven-months-along pregnancy (I didn't know she was pregnant at all, which goes to show how often we speak). She pinched her lips shut a couple of times when I mentioned that I see her nephews' pictures on Facebook. She rolled her eyes when I asked about her family, and she demanded that her daughter say hello to the baby because it was rude not to. She's breeding a mini-her: be nice to the people you look down on. At least, when they're around. I mean, how dare her three-year-old look at toys in a toy store when she should be talking to a baby who doesn't talk back? What's wrong with her, anyway? Her mother has obviously failed at parenting because her preschooler lacks social skills. Hmph.
I'm trash to her. Always have been and always will be. She judges me and I know that. She always looked down on me because she was popular and I was lucky if I wasn't the last one picked for dodge ball. That was when I realized she was actually embarrassed to know me. She married her high school sweetheart, finished school, got a great job and planned a pregnancy. I married my high school sweetheart after making him my baby daddy and dropping out of high school. My 'good job' consists of making peanut butter sandwiches better than anyone else I know.
Meh. That's what I say. Meh. Know why? Because despite my occasional feelings of tear-my-hair-out-stress, I'm happy. I wake up 99.9% of mornings and feel very grateful that I'm alive, married to a great guy and caretaker of some huggable gremlins.
Also, my house is bigger than hers now. That helps me feel better.
Status is a funny thing, isn't it? What you have, where you went to school (or if you went to school, as in my case), where you live, what you drive, what you own, it all matters. Just recently I got a message from a girl I went to high school with. I asked her how she was doing and gave her the 'married, three kids, staying at home, just moved into a new house and it's busy' message. This is the email I received (identifiable parts taken out). I leave you with it to ponder. Heck, I've been pondering it for weeks and have yet to reply. What the hell do you say to this?
Hi [Maven],
So good to hear from you! Wow! Its been a productive 10 years to say the least. I guess that you are all grown up now!
Well, I can give the long version or the very long version so... Lets go with the very long!
After [high school] ('94), I bashfully set out for [community college] where I met my husband of 13 years. He is from Iran and was not part of the [old high school crowd]. He was older than the teen crould at [community college] also but young at heart. I finished in Applied Sciences at [community college] in '97 and then set out to join [Husband] at [university]. He studied Admin at [community college] and then started the Accounting program at [university]. He finished his bachelors in Admin concentration in Accounting in '99 and I finished my bachelors in science concentration in bio in 2000. I then did my honours year in bio and split for the University scene in 2001. Just before I finished, [husband] and I had bought a condo in [half decent area nearby]. [Husband] was making his way into the accounting world in Ottawa while I was struggling to make my way into the government. He was also enroled in the CGA program. Between the two and wedding plans we finally married in the summer of 2004. It was big and expensive but I have good memories of the day. I'll have to post some of our big expensive photos. So finally in 2005 I got my permanence with [government job] as Project Manager and [husband] also landed a Finance Officer position with [another government job]. So then the fun began. We sold our condo in the fall of 2005 and moved into our big dream home. We bought a big house on waterfront property in [names prestigious area] in Hull. It is our haven to say the least. It is a four bedroom house with four full bathrooms and a big inground pool in the backyard. We are quite comfortable since we are only the three of us! As soon as we moved in, I found out that I was pregnant and so 9 months later, baby [girl] came to complete our little family. Other than that [husband] has finally completed his CGA designation minus a french test (those damn Quebecers! hehe, I am one of them!!!). So hopefully his grasp of the french language is enough to pass the test and then he will have his licence. Hello, hello, hello... is there a doctor in the house?
Since I have been on mat leave we've bought a second vehicle which is my little posh pad! We bought a BMW X3 and I love it. We say that we bought it for [baby girl] but it really is comfortable and no more running to the mechanic for another car problem. We still have the Audi but will be trading it soon for a newer BMW. I hate car problems. Then we will be looking into a boat.
Other than that, I go back to work at the end of July and [husband] is on holidays with [very common and rather unimaginative girl's name] for three weeks. He is trying to move up at his office but I guess he is getting the "your not bilingual" BS. I am also trying to move up but being on mat leave does not help. Try to find the time to study for these interviews. It doesn't happen.[husband] is also working hard with his business "on the side". He has accounting and tax and book keeping clients that keep him so busy that he doesn't know whether to scratch his nose or pick his ass anymore. He's even got me doing some of the work. Accounting... YUCK!!!
Well, we definitely have to have you guys over for a swim atleast if ever you have time. Mind you there won't be much to catch up on now that I've rambled on so much. Better to talk about baby stuff. [Boring girl's name] is going to be one year on the 5th of July. Time to have another one of these bundles of joy!
Yeah... um... I'll be right over for that swim. Maybe I'll bring my friend, Snooterella. Watch out, though. Her daughter doesn't always say hello to people.