13 "Secrets"

Well, considering I haven't had many readers lately, I figure this is as good a time as any to divulge my "secrets" to you. 

1. I've been known to dodge a phone call if the song on the radio is a good one.

2. High school wouldn't have sucked so much if it had any resemblance to what the portray in movies.

3. When I was a flattycakes, I never used to understand why well endowed women hated their boobs so much. Now I know.

4. Since I had Alexa, I cry at everything. I am not joking. Yesterday, I cried during Cars. It was just so nice when Lightening McQueen helped everybody in Radiator Springs... *sniff*
5. I still can't swim because of a traumatic experience I had when I was seven.
6. Unless I'm on a treadmill or something, I cannot work out if someone is watching me. It makes me feel five times heavier and ten times dumber.
7. I'm pretty sure that I could watch "10 Things I Hate About You" every day for the rest of my life and be completely okay with it.
8. I cannot stand the song "Silent Night." After singing it 10 times a night for three nights in a row during a high school Christmas program, I can go the rest of my life without hearing it ever again.
9. I want to go to school and expand my intelligence. But, once I get there, I immediately stop caring.
10. I love shopping for tops. I hate shopping for pants.
11. It's no secret, but I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints [Mormon] and I am extremely proud of it.

12. I'll never admit this to him, but my dad was right. I do regret quitting piano lessons.

13. I love my freckles. I think people are crazy when I hear them talking about covering theirs up. They're so cute!

There you have it. 13 things you now know about me that you didn't really care about in the first place. To those of you who still actually frequent my blog, don't forget to say hello so I know you're there!

Happy Sunday!

Book Reviews and Slang Envy

I've discovered something, recently. Foreigners are a lot funnier than Americans. Specifically the British and the Irish. 

For instance, this book: 

This book became one of my favorites while I was only halfway through. It's written as a series of notes, letters or emails between Rosie Dunne and Alex Stewart. It begins with them in first grade and goes all the way to fifty years old. They are best friends and bad influences on each other. In a word: perfection. The Irish wording and all-around wit had me in tears. I recommend this book to anyone with even the smallest sense of humor. 

Then there's this one: 

This is the first in a series of eight books. Honestly, when I'm perusing the library for a good read, if the title is funny, it's as good as checked out. It uses terms like "fabbity fab", "double cool with knobs on" and "nunga nungas." Why on earth do the Brits get such hilarious slang? At any rate, this book follows the day-to-day life of Georgia Nicholson, a 14-year-old girl who has stone aged parents, great friends, a drag-wearing cat, and who is ultimately aiming to make the Sex God Robbie her boyfriend.  It had me snorting with laughter the entire time and I'm extremely grateful that I chose to read it within the confines of my own room.There's even a glossary in the back to explain their wildly amusing terms. Some especially noteworthy phrases are:

Blimey O’Reilly
(as in Blimey O’Reilly’s trousers) This is an Irish expression of disbelief and shock. Maybe Blimey O’Reilly was a famous Irish bloke who had extravagantly big trousers. We may never know the truth. The fact is, whoever he is, what you need to know is that a) it’s Irish and b) it is Irish. I rest my case.

Boy Entrancers
False eyelashes. Boys are ALWAYS entranced when you wear them. This is a FACT . . . unless of course they get stuck together and then boys think you are mad and blind and not entrancing at all.

Bum-oley
quite literally bottom hole. I’m sorry but you did ask. Say it proudly (with a cheery smile and a Spanish accent).

Conk
Nose. This is very interesting historically. A very long time ago (1066)—even before my grandad was born—a bloke called William the Conqueror (French) came to England and shot our King Harold in the eye. Typical. And people wonder why we don’t like the French much. Anyway William had a big nose and so to get our own back we call him William the Big Conk-erer. If you see what I mean. I hope you do because I am exhausting myself with my hilariosity and historiosity.

Double cool with knobs
“double” and “with knobs” are instead of saying very or very, very, very, very. You’d feel silly saying, “He was very, very, very, very, very cool.” Also everyone would have fallen asleep before you had finished your sentence. So “double cool with knobs) is altogether snappier.

Full-frontal snogging
Kissing with all the trimmings, lip to lip, open mouth, tongues . . . everything (Apart from dribble, which is never acceptable.)

Have the painters in
An expression to indicate that a girl is . . . er . . . having her . . . you know whats. Oh, come on, you do know. Having her . . . er . . . well to put it plainly . . . her . . . well that the “red flag is flying,” that her “little friend has come to visit.” Period. Menstruation. Menses. Women trouble. Trouble at the mill. I can’t go on with this; it is making me tired.

Nuddy-pants
Quite literally nude-colored pants, and you know what nude-colored pants are? They are no pants. So if you are in your nuddy-pants you are in your no pants, i.e., you are naked.

Nunga-nungas
Basoomas. Girl’s breasty business. Ellen’s brother calls them nunga-nungas because he says that if you get hold of a girl’s breast and pull it out and then let it go—it goes nunga-nunga-nunga. As I have said many, many times with great wisdomosity, there is something really wrong with boys.

...Okay, that's enough.

Aren't you glad I read these books so that I could tell you all about what your life was missing? Of course you are. What are some books that have made you laugh out loud in public places?

Let Me Hear You SCREAM!

Okay. I'm awful. Blogging is stinking HARD with a baby. Sue me. But I'll have a bit of help for a little while, now.

For an indefinite amount of time, Nick will be on the East Coast helping with the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. He left this morning. So, because I didn't feel like being all by myself for who knows how long, I decided to drive two hours west to stay with my parents until he returns. 

It was a surprisingly tearful goodbye. On my part, anyway. I had really hoped that his last image of me wouldn't be a snotty, teary mess. But, alas. I have the worst timing.

At any rate, he could be gone anywhere from a week to a month or more. Last year there was a massive flood in Minot, North Dakota, and people from his company were gone for five months. Hopefully they'll take into account that he has a family waiting for him at home and let him come home relatively soon.

As far as baby stories go, she is growing like a weed. Of course, my mom is stoked that we're invading her house because that means she gets infinite playtime. Which, honestly, is totally fine with me. I mean, come on. I'm tired. I haven't slept in three and a half months. Not really, anyway. For instance, last night was the first time she slept the whole time. I, of course, woke up at her usual 2 AM for about a half hour before I could finally coax myself back to sleep. 

Guess what else? She's learned to scream. And I don't mean seriously intense crying. I mean screaming. Full out, the-sky-is-falling, zombies-are-attacking-the-city screaming. And she'll do it just because she feels like it. There really isn't a particular reason. This morning she was screaming because apparently my shower was too long and being in her swing was no longer acceptable. Needless to say, it wasn't a very relaxing shower experience. 

At any rate, I've got one weird, adorable, hilarious and needy baby. Oh, well. I'm going to look at this positively. At least I know she wants me around. 

Motivation Mondays

It would seem that I'm not off to a very good start with my Motivation Mondays. This past week, I had one nasty cold and my allergies were kicking my butt. Consequently, I hardly worked out. 

With the weather getting cold so rapidly here in Minnesota, I'm not sure that I want to go running outside with a two month old baby. Soooo, I'm going to make a slight alteration to my plan. Instead of running, I'll do TurboFire on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I'll continue to do Jillian Michaels' "Ripped in 30" on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Granted, I'll allow myself some wiggle room considering I can only work out during Alexa's nap time, and that ranges anywhere from 20 minutes to 4 hours. 

Anyway, I'm sorry that I don't have much in the line of updates for you today. But, I'm feeling much better and I'll spend this week kicking butt and taking names. 

Happy Monday!

Through the Eyes of a Child

My baby is getting huge. I don't mean that in the typical pinch-your-cheeks-oh-my-you're-getting-so-big fashion. I mean, literally. She's huge. At her 2 month checkup she weighed 12 pounds 4 ounces and was 24 inches long. Now, for those of you who know me, I'm not quite 5 feet tall. So... yeah. She's almost half my height at 2 months old. I'll let myself out...

Here we are now, and she's almost THREE months old. What is this lunacy?! She's laughing and babbling and trying so hard to roll over. She's drooling buckets and has decided that lying on the floor is for babies, whereas she's a big girl and, therefore, must sit upright.

I never knew that a baby could be so hysterically funny. I never knew that so much milk could be spit up at once. I never knew that seeing her smile at me would make my entire day so much better. 

What is it about our children that makes us want to rip our hair out and kiss them at the same time? How can we be so aggravated at them one minute, and want to shield them from ever getting hurt the next? Children are so beautifully innocent. I think, as adults, we forget that life isn't meant to be complicated. We get the notion that things should be a certain way, and become upset to the point of ruining relationships if they don't. You'll never see a child do that. To them, life is simple. They don't know how to hold grudges. They don't know how to feel superior. They don't know how to not be friends. 

Since having Alexa, I often find myself taking a step back from my life and asking myself, "Would the 4-year-old me like who I've become?" If the answer is no, it's time to change something. 

Happy Thursday!

Orange You Glad?

Naturally, I'm a blonde. I've never dyed my hair fully. I've only ever highlighted it. Why? Because I love my blonde hair. It looks good on me, and that's the color that I'm used to. 

Now, que pregnancy. Those dang hormones turned my hair an icky, dirty brown. It's not even a cute brown. It honestly looks like my hair needs to be washed CONSTANTLY. So, what do I do? I dye it. I get a box of blonde coloring and carve out an hour of my life to perk my hair up again. 

After applying the color the best I can, I have to sit around for 25 minutes while I unintentionally get high from the fumes. Ding! Time to rinse! Scrub scrub. Wash wash. Holycowitsorange.

That's right, my friends. Brown hair doesn't dye blonde very well. It turns a wonderful shade of coppery orange. I. Am. Stylin'. 

Granted, it's not my whole head. But my roots are now extremely noticeable. Seriously. I see you eyeing my scalp as you talk to me. Just ignore it. 

But wait! Here's the best part! I can't go to the salon to fix it while I have my baby with me. I honestly had no idea. Apparently if I have to pick her up at all, the colorist will stop and I'll look like Cruella DeVille. Now, my mother lives two hours this way. Nick's mother lives one hour that way. And everyone else I know around here either already has kids or lives too far away to warrant driving out there. Translation: I'm stuck like this until next weekend.

At least Alexa still recognizes me.