Parenting magazine is stalking me!

I'm not a magazine reader. I like to look, flip pages, read snippets and forget about it. I'm a browser, not a reader. I look at pictures, I look at ads, I look at recipes. I'm just not one for magazines.

My friend M offered to give me a gift subscription to Parenting magazine last year, and even though she and I both knew I'm not much of a magazine reader, I said okay since it was free on her end and I could just browse and then recycle.

So I got my magazine the other day, and I was looking through it last night, and then I left it in Mateo's room.

In the middle of the day today, one of our Admins came over to me and lifted up Parenting magazine and said, "your MAGAZINE is here...." in a very sarcastic voice. Then he started reading the captions on the front, which are rather silly, one being about how to bring "sexy back" -- you know, for us fatty mcgoo moms who are so tired at night they can hardly think of how their child came into the world.

The whole time he was mocking the magazine with my name and work address on it, I was saying, rather high pitchedly (is that a word? well, it is now), "What!? WHY AM I GETTING THAT HERE? I DON'T SUBSCRIBE TO THAT MAGAZINE!!!!!"

He said I must because it's got my name on it. Then he handed it over.

I held it like it was possessed, a magazine stalker from hell that will never leave me be. I glanced at the address label -- it said DEC 08, which means I'm going to be getting this stupid magazine for a YEAR and at WORK.

Then I noticed the bring "sexy back" thing, read it out loud, and said, "Oh, you just said that, didn't you?"

So yes, I'm being stalked by Parenting magazine. I still don't know how I got this second subscription, but it's mine and it's evil.

One of my favorite shows (non-kid)

I love, love, love those haunted, haunting, spooky, possessed, ghost shows. Paranormal State is even one my husband likes to watch. Check it out on A&E Monday nights! (Will I get paid for this advertisement?)

I'm moving to Pennsylvania so I can go to Penn State and join the Paranormal Research Society! Go Penn State!

Kids Shows: An Expose. Boohbahs!

So we're watching more and more kid shows because of Mateo. Let me fix that statement (I've yet to learn how to do the fancy cross out the words and add new words thing that fancy bloggers do - I'm sure there is some HTML thing I could be doing, but I'm lazy and don't want to look it up): Mateo watches about 5-15 minutes of whatever show and then crawls around, throws himself on the ground and whines or tries to get into corners he's not allowed to go into, and I end up watching the whole stupid show for some reason.

Let's start with Boohbahs. The first 5 minutes of this show is the intro and it seems to go on and on and on and on. But Mateo really likes it. I'm over it after 30 seconds. The Boohbahs are these teardrop pipe cleaner penises. They live in a pack of birth control pills. The story people are the only adults, however, there are kids who bring them presents by going down a spiral walkway in the middle of the psychedelic dancing space of the Boohbahs. The story people are supposedly related, but they really aren't unless they are all adopted. I know this because there is an Indian lady, a black man, white people and Asian people.

(Side note: I was wondering where the story people part was filmed, so I looked it up (I tend to do this with anything that interests me, so if you watch kid shows, you'll find out some interesting things if you keep reading my next posts), and all the story people skits are filmed in Spain. The studio stuff is filmed in England. I was betting on South Africa. I was wrong.)

(Another side note: I just learned how to strike out words. Total coincidence too. And yes, I do have to use HTML, but it's really not that big a deal.)

After the story people, the show quickly moves onto the fun "Look what I can do!" segment, where kids repeatedly do some simple movement. This usually looses Mateo completely, and since we watch these shows on Comcast's On Demand feature, I usually fast forward through it because I'm not too impressed with the kids' skills.

The final segment is some fancy Boohbah dancing, and Mateo definitely stops watching at this point. I'm usually chasing after him or trying to distract him at this poinnt, so I let the show keep running until it's over.

And yes, in case you were wondering, you two can own your own teardrop shaped pipe cleaner penises! Or just visit their lovely web site and get totally confused like I did. I guess you have to have a kid's brain and not an adult's brain that thinks its a kid's brain.

Next: My thoughts on Teletubbies!

I'm feeling...rather nostalgic...like I want to air out my monkeys from my brain closet.

So the whole Jr. High dress got me thinking about Jr. High and some of the things I remember not so fondly of. For some reason unbeknownest to myself, I had (definite past tense) a tendency to become attracted to probably the ugliest and most odd boys around. This continued for some time, all the way up til Jr. College when I was stood up for a non-date to have coffee and just "talk" at a coffee shop near where I worked.

Yes, I was dumb enough to think the guy would come, even though he told me he had a girl friend.

I'll admit it, I don't have the greatest track record with guys and dating, and what little dating I did, if that's what you call it, most of the guys were just a bit off.

There was a guy in Jr. High that I remember in particular. I don't remember how we started talking, I don't remember his name (Wayne - just came to me), I don't remember much of anything about him except two things: he looked like a weird alien and he was in 8th grade. So yes, this was when I was a 7th grader and it was the pre-hussy years.

All I remember was that someone liked the other one, we sorta talked while at school, and when there was a school dance, he was there and I was there, and it was then that I decided he was way too weird looking and uncool for me to continue liking him. I'm not sure how it ended, but I am sure of this because I made a habit of doing it over and over: I just stopped talking to him. I think he gave me a note about the lack of communication between us, but I could be making that up. Granted, since I can't remember, he could have stopped talking to me. I was the one girl at my Jr. High who was told by a gym teacher that the boys ASB cards were being passed out over there. Yes, in other words, I sorta, kinda look like a boy.

Hence the fabu hairdo in 8th grade - I am female, hear me roar.

I mean, I did actually have serious crushes on really cute guys - don't get me wrong. It's not like I was a total blind rodent trying to find her way in maze known as "going" with each other. I just seemed to always attract the underdogs or the weirdos or the really ugly guys no one else would touch with a ten foot pole.

Next blog entry: Melvin aka "doc of style," heavy metal dude from art class, the stalker guy from General Cinema (he came with a crazy stalker letter I wish I had kept), usher from General Cinema who was the older brother of a girl in my HS class, two guys my husband says were in love with me but I never really thought so - oh, let's make that three guys, coffee guy.

After coffee guy, I actually got a really cute boyfriend who was several (ahem, 5 years) older than myself but who was just an 18-year old mentally. Then I found my one and only. My dear, dear hubby. I was at the ripe old age of 19 (yes, that's 15 years together, if you're counting). He wasn't weird, he was cute, he was nice although a tad surly, he was smart, he liked things I liked...he was as normal as I ever got - if you don't count that he wouldn't hold my hand in public for almost a year because I wasn't his "girlfriend" until about that time.

Ah, yes, here she is!

The innocent have been removed from this picture. One innocent was sent this picture because I'm still friends with her.

I'm particularly fond of the hairdo because it would take me HOURS to get my hair to do that since it's naturally flat with no body. Thank goodness for hairspray! And mousse. And determination. And lots of time on my hands.

Dang, I bet my husband wishes he had met me way back when. Sweet dreams, dear hubby. Dream of floppy bows and polk-a-dots.

Next segment of horrendous fashion that makes me laugh 20 years or less later: My Jr. Prom dress! When I find the picture. Me in all my iridescent glory....ah, yes.

Special thanks to mom for ransacking her photo albums, scanning this picture and emailing it to me.

I was a Jr. High hussy.

One of my friends is going on the John Mayer cruise at the end of this month, and one of the activities on board is an 80's prom party. She showed me the dress she got from etsy and while we were chatting about the accessories she could wear, I started looking at prom dresses on etsy as well.

On page 4 or 5 of the prom dress search, I came across this fabulous number:



Now, now, I know what you're thinking: I want that fabulous black and white number with polk-a-dots and a floppy black bow!

This is either the exact same dress or a very similar dress to the one I wore to my Jr. High School graduation. Not only did I wear it, but a few other girls I was friends with had the same thing or one of a different color. Apparently in 1988 it was the "hot" item as far as prom dresses go.

Now, I have to wonder, why did my mom allow her 14-year old daughter to wear this? Did I complain? Cry? Say something stupid about her hating me and not letting me dress like a bubbled hussy? And she just gave up and let me have it? Or was it not even an issue? Was she just glad that I wanted to wear something feminine?

I'm 34 now and I can't imagine wearing this to an event (not that I'll be hitting any proms soon, Mateo's only 11 months old). If I wanted to wear this, I'd definitely have to have a jacket or sweater or something to cover up. And from what I remember, I had neither when I was just a skinny youngin'.

I'm sure my mom will have some input on this matter. I think I wore this dress in to a high school dance as well. I guess that makes me a Jr. High and High School hussy.

Walmart

I'm starting to dislike Walmart. And no, not for all the reasons most people do - I happen to love saving some money on things, so if people are unfortunate enough to make the decision to apply for a job at Walmart, then I simply can't feel sorry for them if they aren't being paid well or getting good health care. But that's a whole thing in and of itself.

This is why I'm starting to dislike Walmart:

More often than not, when I get home and unpack my bags full of Walmart goodies, it'll dawn on me that something is missing. Not only has this happened to me, but it's happened to my husband as well, and he's one of those people who hates Walmart for the humanitarian / bad business ethics reasons, so you can imagine how that goes when he realizes something is missing from his purchases. This is the man who gets mad at inanimate objects for falling when he touches him. It doesn't go over so well.

I went yesterday and bought a bunch of stuff, one item in particular for Mateo because he's just starting to get used to eating solid foods vs. pureed slop: Sweet Potato Puffs. YUM!

He's already tried the fruity puffs and likes those, so I thought it would be good to get a veggie one.

For a few different reasons, I didn't completely unpack all the bags when I got home, and it wasn't until 2:30ish that I finished unpacking and realized his puffs were missing. Maybe I already put them away and just forgot, I thought. I checked, couldn't find them. Maybe they rolled out of the bag in the car, I thought. When I left to go pick him up from daycare, I checked, couldn't find them.

Grrrrrrr....Darn Walmart. Got me again.

Now the thing I don't get it this: In my case, the lady must have put the single container of puffs in its own bag, which makes no sense because 1. it's as light as a cotton ball (hello - they're PUFFS) and 2. they're in a container where they can't easily be crushed. But I'm assuming that's what she did, and since they use that crazy spinner bag thing, and each cashier does their own thing (in this case, she handed me some bags and pointed to others - apparently I missed the bag with a single container of light as cotton ball PUFFS. I just incorrectly assume I'm getting all my items.

And what about the little 80-year old Filipino lady who comes up to my waist that stops customers as they exit? Why didn't she, as she glanced quickly at my receipt and never once at my bags, and then swipe a green pen line on my receipt, tell me that I'm missing an item? If these ancient door checkers are there to eliminate theft, then how come they can't also take inventory of what's in my bags and compare to my receipt for me? They're stopping me as it is, even though they have no legal right to, and if I was a crazed thief, I could easily push her down and the other guy who stands around forcing shopping carts and umbrella bags on people, and run out the doors, screaming like a wild animal all the while. But yes, they are stopping me. So do me a favor and ensure I've received all the items I just paid for. I know, like that will ever happen.

So maybe it's a ploy of Walmart's and part of their training program. If one cashier "forgets" to bag an item or "forgets" to give a bag to a customer, just imagine the savings for them. I'm sure the item gets restocked and repurchased by someone else. From our past experiences of calling immediately after arriving home (five minute trip home) and realizing something was missing, they really don't seem to care. When I worked retail, I remember feeling like a horrible cashier when I forgot to give someone something, so much so that I would make a real attempt to chase them down and give them their bag or item. And if that was impossible, I would tell others and the manager on duty, so if that person called about it, others would know. And I wasn't being paid the greatest nor was I receiving wonderful health care, if any.

So I'll just add that to the evil doings of Walmart. But I'll still shop there cause I like saving money. And maybe next time I will keep walking out the door and ignore the small security people.