Stumbling & Bumbling

Remember

Every year after 9.11.01 I made it a point to watch the reading of the names of all the people lost here in NY that day, as well as the memorials held in Washington and in Pennsylvania. This year I am not going to watch them. I mean no disrespect for all the innocent people lost that day, I just am choosing to celebrate what continued on after 9.11.01 - Life.

I worked there and I was there that day and I am still alive, still breathing, still going on. Sometimes when I am frustrated with life in general I look at my boys, who certainly wouldn't be here right now, and I think of all the parents who were at work that day, parents who never got to come home to their babies and toddlers, big kids,teens, 20-somethings and more.  Parents who wont ever be able to hug their children again, celebrate a birthday or a graduation, the birth of a grandchild or any of life's small triumphs.

So today, while I play with my kids, while I am privileged to hold them tight and kiss their soft cheeks, I will remember all those lost. Mothers and fathers, children, sisters and brothers all. I will remember you.

Never forget. 9.11.01

Reliving My Youth. Failing Miserably.

I hope everyone had a great Labor Day weekend here in the US. I can certainly say that I had a lot of fun this weekend, especially seeing as how I am living a sort of never ending weekend at the moment. 

My weekend started on Friday when, true to form, Mike and I ditched the kids at the babysitters and went to go try to relive our childhoods by riding every damned roller coaster in Six Flags Great Adventure. We got there early in the morning, and as we walked across the parking lot we congratulated ourselves on getting a head start on the Labor Day crowds. Then we turned a corner and confronted 9,654,685,905,784,589 other people congratulating each other on their head starts and it turns out that we had to wait 45 minutes just to buy a damned ticket to get into the damned park. Adding to these early morning festivities was the fact that we were standing in front of a couple who were seemingly out on their first or second date . They were in that horrible stage when they asked each other the most inane and ridiculous questions imaginable. Questions like:

"OHMIGOD" Girl: "O-Kay, if you could get a Tattoo where would you get it?"

REALLY LOUD AND BOISTEROUS GUY: (LOUDLY AND BOISTEROUSLY): "I wouldn't. I can't imagine writing something on my body that I want to see when I am 90. I mean, if I was meant to have a tattoo, GOD would have let me be born with one already!"

"OHMIGOD" GIRL: "OHMIGOD, you're so right! But you have good forearms, you could get one there."

REALLY LOUD AND BOISTEROUS GUY: (LOUDLY AND BOISTEROUSLY): "You think?"

Mike and I almost passed out from trying not to laugh out loud.

Finally, finally after 40 more minutes of inane chatter from the Wonder-couple we got into the park. We immediately headed to the Great American Scream Machine and got on. After a ride that lasted approximately 90 seconds we wobbled off to Superman where we were subjected to inane 12 year old chatter from a gaggle of little girls in short shorts and heavy make up. We got on the coaster and rode that for another 90 seconds. When we wobbled of that ride I realized something. I am old. Really, really old. I remember jumping on and off those coasters just a few years and 2 c-sections ago with no problem. Now? Now I was lucky if I could walk in a straight goddamned line after getting off the coaster. Mike was similarly afflicted with weird old people vertigo and so we took a break and got something to eat. The rest of the day was easier and lots of fun and we were trying to convince each other to go on this monstrosity: 

Yes, you see that big assed iron penis? That's a 40 Story High Iron Penis! Still not convinced that it is bad ass? Click here, watch the video and tell me you wouldn't pee your Depends if you rode that motherfucker.

Then we rode El Toro (or as I like to call it now "The Senior Killer") the biggest wooden roller coaster ever and let me tell you that son of a bitch fucked me up. FUCKED ME UP people. How much so? This much so: 

Goodbye, my youth.

:::

Saturday, still reeling from the feeling of our lost youth and suffering from swollen, arthritic knees and lower backs, we decided to dress up like we did back in the late 80's. Nah, it was actually for a friends birthday party and let me tell you, we totally rocked the casbah.  Behold my old school 80's "Desperately Seeking Susan" hairstyle and Mikes awesome "SOUL-GLO" jerry curl:

 
(that's a CANDY Cigarette!)

Who says you can't be young again?

Woman of Leisure

Pass me another Bon-Bon. Continue to peel those grapes for me please.

Yes friends, my current unemployed status has turned me from a tireless worker - bee (excuse me while I snort at myself *Snooooooort*) into a woman of leisure. Ok well maybe not but damn its nice to be lazy. Mike has taken a few days and we will be traipsing around with the kids for the rest of this week. I think that we will head to the beach today or tomorrow, and then hit up the Central Park Zoo, the Bronx Zoo, the Coney Island Aquarium, White Post Farms out in Long Island, and then, for the coup de grace, we will DITCH the children with grandma and grandpa and go to Six Flags and ride the coasters all day long till I puke up all my bon bons.

Next week will start my job search and I am not really looking forward to it. I am still trying to decide exactly what I want to do with presumably, the rest of my working life. I am debating on looking for another full time position, or with taking a little part time position where I can take some classes at the same time to work towards that Speech Pathology degree. I've seen some pretty crazy jobs listed on Monster and Craigslist and I will share some of them here with you in the coming days.

So that's a sort of mini-update for you. I know, pretty boring but believe me - it feels nice to relax and unwind. I do have my panicky moments, my moments of sadness and anger but they pass and I am fine again.

And there are those moments, moments like when your youngest finds himself a red Sharpie marker and decides to graffiti on himself - that make you laugh and laugh and remember that life is grand.

Dont let the door hit you on the way out

You know when you have a weird feeling about going to a certain place or just that vague undefined feeling that something is not right with the world? Well that's how I felt yesterday when I went to the office for what turned out to be the last time. I got canned, laid off, fired, let go - you name it. 

As soon as I walked in my boss waved me over and just from the look on his face I knew something was up. My boss is a very sweet guy, a great boss and a good friend. He sat me down and told me that the company had decided to do away with my position and that he had to let me go. Now I have been with this particular company for about 8 years and you would think that I would be sad but, well I'm not. I sat there, basically numb as he told me the news and then I just nodded and when he asked me if I wanted to say goodbye to anyone I was all "Oh Heeellllll No!!!". I didn't want to say goodbye to the former friend turned office bitch who had been trying to undermine me and make me look inept to our bosses for a few months now. I didn't want to say goodbye to the cadaverous freak who I reported for sexual harassment a year ago, and who had basically no repercussions from my outing his touchy-feely ways. Can you see now why I wasn't and still am not heartbroken over the whole matter?

I only emailed my closest friends in the company to let them know what happened and to make sure I kept in touch with all of them. My group of "office gals", my awesome "IT Guys" all became friends to me and I will miss swapping gossip and funny inter office emails with them. I will stay in touch with that great group of people because they were the only things I will take out of that organization that matter at all.

Yes, the loss of my income will be something that we will have to deal with and when I do get emotional its a nervousness about how things will turn out financially for us in the next few months. I did get a severance package so I will have time to look for something else with a bit of a cushion.

And now....the future. Well, my future. I still have this weird feeling that things are not finished changing in my life. I feel...light, airy and hopeful and let me tell you, that is a big deal for this jaded and cynical New Yorker. I am researching all the different things I would like to be doing, and lets see where I end up. Maybe I will take a step back from the big money earning positions and take a part time so I can spend more time with my kids and start my classes for my speech therapy program earlier than expected. Who knows? 

Here's to looking forward and never looking back.

My Favorites: 80's Edition - School Stuff

OK before I go on with the post I have to tell you that I stayed home today because of an early morning migraine and a case of PINK EYE. Pink eye, really? Gah. Anyhow what I really want to comment on is that I am watching the program "The Doctors" and they are discussing all sorts of topics that people find embarrassing. I just laughed myself silly because one woman wrote into the show requesting that the Doctors give her advice about how she can ask her husband, who seemingly has a lot of hair on his, uh...ASS  - to wax it. So what do the doctor's do? They invite the poor guy to the show where they proceed to have his ass waxed on LIVE TV. Who says that daytime TV sucks? This is great!

:::

Yesterday I posted here about my intentions to go back to school and whenever I post something new on this here awesome blog, I update my facebook status to let all 3 of my friends know that I have imparted yet another dollop of wisdom upon the world.

My status update read: "Are Trapper Keepers still cool? I may be going back to school...uh oh. http://bumbling.typepad.com"

And you know what people commented on most? Not my wanting to go back to school (although a few did) they commented on the Trapper Keeper reference.  That got me remembering all the cool stuff we had back in the 80's in terms of school stuff and seeing as how the dreaded start of the school year is upon students everywhere I wanted to go over my personal favorite 80's school items.

Lets start with the best - The Trapper Keeper:

(C) onceuponawin.com

I loved my trapper keeper, with its shitty plastic rings and its strong smell of fresh, new, non bio-degradable plastic. I think most of us in the 4th grade were high on the fumes emitted by our new Trapper Keepers. Sigh, the good old days. *Sniff* *SNifffffff* *SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFF*

My second favorite 80's school item was something I never owned because my mom refused to spend more than 5 dollars on a pencil case. I believe her exact words, uttered in the middle of Woolworth's (Ooooooooh DIP- remember Woolworths?) were - 

My Mom:"Niña loca, I am NOT paying 12 dollars for a Hello Kitty pencil case!" 

Me:  But Mooo-ooooom! I need it!!!!!!"

My Mom: "Vete a la mierda - put your pencils in a Zip Lock bag!"

That of course broke my heart and forever rendered me NOT AS COOL as all the other little girls with super awesome Hello Kitty Pencil cases:

Yes I know I said that I am not a girly girl and I really wasn't, but I sure did have a hard on for that pencil case. I wanted it with every non girly girl fiber of my being. It had a sharpener and little secret compartments and it was what I desired. I never got it. Mourn with me.

A few years later I was over my trapper keeper phase and I had graduated to the old school DENIM BINDER! Oh yeah baby, it was a big deal to have a suh-weet Denim binder and have all your friends sign it or draw on it. If you got really crazy you could draw your name on it with big assed bubble letters that you then filled in with White-out. This made you cool and also got you in trouble with your dad who then stormed around the house yelling: "WHERE IS MY WHITEOUT? WHO TOOK IT?" while you desperately tried to hide your binder under the sofa.

I'd love to hear about your old school 80-early 90's favorite (and now considered "vintage") classic school items. 

Back to School?

I hated High School. I know, I know, I know - High School is billed by many people as being the "best time of your life"; a time before bill-paying responsibilities,  (and hopefully for most young people) a time before diaper changes-3AM wake ups-baby barf-middle of the night mystery temperatures-vaccinations-Mommy/Daddy I hate you-child rearing-duties. Its supposed to be a perfect balance of the Wonder Years and Fast Times at Ridgemont High and you are supposed to smile fondly and remember all your escapades and the tons of friends you had.

Meh.

I had friends, I had good times but for the most part I detested how cliquey everything was, how incredibly stooooopid everyone was and how you were supposed to dress one way and like the same music. So yeah, HS is something I don't really care to remember.

College on the other hand, I adored. I liked walking through campus to my classes, I liked how laid back everything was, how I could play UNO for cash at the student union while having an animated conversation with intelligent people at the same time. I loved it.

And I am going back.

Yes I have a BA already - in Sociology of all things - but I will be applying soon for a Graduate Program in Speech Pathology. That means that I will have to complete a few (A TON) of pre-requisite classes at the undergraduate level and I am eagerly looking forward to being THE OLDEST STUDENT IN CLASS. I imagine that the student sitting next to me in her low rider jeans and Abercrombie and Fitch $50 dollar T-shirt will look over at me and think "Whoa. She is OLD" and then stare at my wrinkly hands in consternation. Ok, maybe I am being exaggerated but seriously I will definitely be a bit out of my comfort zone at first. Still. I will be in SCHOOL again!

I am still in the early stages and I still have to get accepted and figure out where the rest of the money is coming from and I wont be starting for another semester but I can't wait to go back; even if at first its just for one or two classes. I have been toying with going back to school to become a Speech Pathologist specifically targeting Early Child Development for a while now and my company is offering to help out with a graduate course of study in any field. Suckers!

I can't wait. Remind me I said that when I start bitching about homework and *gulp* FINALS.

Cataclysm - WoW

I am completely geeked right the fuck OUT right now peeps. Blizzard just announced the new expansion for my beloved World of Warcraft and I think I have seen the trailer about eleventy-jillion times since I got home. Bask in the glory that is my nerdiness!

Behold:

Back

Yes I have been ignoring you. I'm sorry! I got you all spoiled with those two weeks of endless posts. I promise I will post more starting today.

So yeah, I was out of the country, so to speak - on a trip down to Puerto Rico. It was a business trip  -well SATURDAY was and a little bit of Sunday too, but mostly I got to hang out and sleep(!) and see my best friend Chris- who is stationed out in the San Juan Coast Guard base. He was a great, taking me out on Sunday to Loiza where the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen are. We ate Alcapurrias at his friends little roadside shack and drank beers to cool down.

I had planned to go out and see my grandmother but those plans went to crap when Chris got orders to be on his ship by 5PM Sunday since the hurricanes that were bearing down on Puerto Rico were gaining force and they were moving all the cutters out of the San Juan area. Boo. Hopefully I will be able to go down there again soon and go see my beloved abuelita.

I must say that I have never, ever been scared of flying, I have in fact been flying since the age of 3 months but man oh man both the flight there and the flight back had super horrible turbulence. On the flight down, about thirty minutes before we landed in San Juan, the plane shook, jittered and then just dropped. It was a good 10-12 second freefall and everybody freaked the FUCK OUTand the goddamn oxygen masks all dropped down and I thought "This is it". You know how they say that you see your life flash before your eyes? Nope. What I saw were Nicky and Seba - a super quick slideshow of their little faces and smiles. I grabbed the woman next to me and she and I just stared praying and I remember saying "Please Virgin Mary don't do this to me!" I know, I know - I don't come off as the religious type but I prayed my heart out. And here I am. The funny thing is that we hit turbulence on the return flight 30 FREAKING MINUTES AFTER TAKING OFF and this time I said "OH COME THE FUCK ON!" which I don't think can be categorized as a prayer in any way, shape or form. Still, here I am. I was sitting next to the two cutest gay guys on earth and we all screamed and shouted and cursed and then afterward, we drank waaaay too much shitty wine and laughed our asses off at the in flight movie "I Love You, Man".

What a trip. Thanks Chris, for being my personal chauffer.

Behold:

 

Supermom?

I startle awake and look around myself, bleary eyed and disoriented. I wonder what has pulled me out of sleep and reach over the bed to Mike, only to discover rumpled sheets and a still warm pillow. Ah, today is his early day on the ambulance and he is already gone. My turn to get the kids ready all by myself. I listen for a second and can hear the high pitched babbled conversation that signifies two very awake toddlers. I squint at the time display on the clock and realize that I am late, late, so very late.

Crap.

What to do first? Get the children up and ready or get myself ready? Realizing that they are happily content in their room, speaking in their indecipherable toddler-ese, I decide to take a quick shower. I know that if I were to get them ready first, my shower would be interrupted at least 5 bazillion times;  the shower door will be thrust aside and a small head poked in inquiring "What are you doing, mami?" "Can you get me juice/cereal con leche/candy/bread/my toy?" So, I jump in and take a super fast deluxe shower. In 5 minutes I am toweled off, and half dressed. Why half dressed? Because I have no pants. None. The only pants I have that are clean and pressed are sitting in the dry cleaners. Ok a skirt! Skirt, skirt, skirt WHERE ARE MY SKIRTS???? Ah ok here we go....sheeeeeeeeiiiiit it needs to be ironed. Ok well that can wait, as I hear the babbling ratcheted up to near hysteria levels coming from the kids room.

I run into their room, dressed in a shirt and my underwear, hair still wet and scraped into a barely manageable pony tail-like contortion.

"MAMI!!!!!!!" "HI MAMI!!!!" - I am greeted by two happy bouncing boys. Literally bouncing on their beds, hard enough to make me wonder how strong those beds really are and if the mattresses had a voice, would they be pleading to "make it stop, PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY!!!???"

I send Nicky off to the potty while I wrestle Seba out of his Dinosaur Pj's, which immediately starts the howls and cries of "NOOOOOO I want it" because if he could, he would wear that pajama shirt with the dinosaur skeleton emblazoned across the chest on a trip to the freaking VATICAN, if I let him. Because that is his absolute favorite Pajama. For this week, anyway. Further wrestling ensues and a minute later and I have one fully dressed toddler, now consoled by the fact that he is wearing his favorite cookie monster shirt and shorts set.

I turn to look for Nicky only to find that he has not returned from his potty excursion. I go into the bathroom and encounter toothpaste. Everywhere. Attempting to squeeze the toothpaste onto his Wall-E toothbrush has turned into a fiasco. There is toothpaste on the floor, his hair, the toilet, and oh look, on my shirt. Super mom kicks into gear and I clean up the mess, strip off my shirt, give Nick a quick shower while simultaneously brushing both sets of teeth AND my own, get him back to the room, dress him and then we all run out to the living room. Ok, we are good on time. The babysitter is picking them up in 5 minutes. I throw the diaper bag together, I get their lunch (leftovers from last night) and snacks (cheese, apples a banana and granola bars) milk and sippy cups all ready. I congratulate myself as she rings the doorbell and I run downstairs to let her in. I am triumphant! I got everything ready on time!! I am SUPERMOM!

Why is she looking at me like that through the glass on the door? Is she...is she laughing? I reach up and smooth my hair as I unlock the door. As the cool breeze from the street wafts in I realize why she is laughing at me.

I am standing in my doorway wearing only my underwear. Sigh. Another day. I wave at my neighbor.

fin

Searched

I am a freak. I can't believe I didn't know this already, and perhaps you did, seeing as how you are reading my blog and have probably read it before. Why didn't you tell me that I was a freak that is writing not an innocent "mom-blog" but rather a blog that is full of EROTICA? How did this escape my attention? Now I am running through my past entries and seeing them in a new light, specifically I am seeing them through an EROTICA-infused light. Ohmigod didn't I entitle on post "Adult Themed"? The clues have always been there, haven't they? I am staggered. 

What brought this realization that I am an author of erotica was a wonderful little gadget called SiteMeter. If you scroll down a bit, you will see a little button for Sitemeter on the right hand side of the page. What does Sitemeter do? Here I will explain: Sitemeter provides tracking and and counter services so I can see how many hits I have gotten, and from which part of the world people are currently logged onto and reading one of my formerly thought to be inane and now known to be EROTIC posts. Its nifty and good for my ego when I see that I have gotten a couple of thousand hits from all over the U.S and from far flung places like Japan, India and even a hit from Antarctica. I wonder how in the heck these people have found my blog and sitemeter tells me. Often, I get hits when I comment on other peoples blogs and enter my web address; that is pretty much the standard way anyone gets traffic. I also have my tried and true followers who check in everyday for a new post and who don't hesitate to berate me (lovingly) when I have been slacking and haven't posted anything in weeks with comments like "WTF Gina, get on the ball and write something funny already! Make me laugh bitch!!! (cracking whip)

Other than being directed to my blog from my comments on other sites, Sitemeter also lets me know when I have been found via a search engine - even going so far as to tell me exactly what string was used. Many times its something completely innocent like "mom, blog, poop, babies, toddlers, books, World of Warcraft..." etc. Lately though, a darker theme to the redirects has emerged. Instead of babies and toddlers I see that people have found my blog through some sexually charged search strings.

Witness:

1. Visitor 1,195 found my blog through a Google search string that consisted of "bathtime for big boys humiliation story" Oh. My. God. I mean I know that I have used all those words in my posts but never did I think that I was subliminally writing about "bathtime for big boys [and their] humiliation stories". I am glad that the big boys referred to are clean but am sad that they felt humiliated. Forgive me! I knew not what I was writing!

2. Visitor 1,895 also used Google (doesn't everybody?) and found this here blog by typing in "Testicle Stomping". Now I know that I am writing not only erotica, but VIOLENT erotica. Its been a real eye opener. I wonder if Anne Rice, writing as  Anne Roquelaure (her erotica- writing alter ego), often pops into Google and types in "Testicle Stomping" to read my blog for new tips for her latest erotica-based series. I mean will she write something like the erotic Cinderella story she wrote before only this time it will feature a mom blogger that has a secret erotic life? Will I get royalties? Oh wait, Anne Rice has found God or something and is no longer much fun. Poop.

3. Visitor 2,004 found my blog using google blogsearch - proving to me that that person was indeed looking for erotic blogs - by typing in "embarrassing skirt story". Ok, not so bad right? I did indeed post about an embarrassing skit story just a few days ago. Sadly, the searcher didn't stop there because that same user (I can tell from the ISP) also found my blog by typing in "humiliation spanking bad girl skirt moan". People, am I writing about moaning? Who exactly was moaning in any of my posts? Do I have secret posts that I have forgotten about or that I have secreted away in the endless posts that highlight my complaints of poop, early morning wake ups, fevers and strange conversations? 

Maybe this is my true calling and I should start writing erotica. I seem to have a gift for it. Now I am wondering exactly what kind of traffic I will get because of the use of the words "Erotica", "VIOLENT erotica"and "moaning" featured in this entry. Uh-oh.