Here are your pictures.

I realize that some of you (namely, the menfolk who visit this blog) are going to be sorely disappointed, as we've decided not to include the pictures that feature our faces--which, of course, is most of them. (Hey, it's a cruel, cruel Internet out there; we don't want any crazies coming after us.) *

Instead, you can create fantasies about us based on our sexy hands. (OOH!! You can guess whose hands belong to whom. Anyone who gets all four right will receive...something. Remember, your choices are Anna, Renee, Kishelle and Jen.)

This was taken BEFORE our alcohol run.

In a pinch, sippy cups make highly effective shot glasses.

* My objection to posting pictures of myself focuses not so much on the security involved but rather the ass-like quality of the actual pictures (i.e., I look like ass).

The List (edited for brevity, hence the misnumbering).

...I saw this list on LoB's blog and I liked it so much, I brought it over here, as well. I ended up keeping just the ones that are true and deleting the false/inaccurate/not true statements (I also deleted some true ones that were just kind of boring.) For the original list, see LoB's blog.

01. I miss somebody right now
02. I don't watch much TV these days
04. I love sleeping
05. I own lots of books
06. I wear glasses or contacts
07. I like to play video games (just 80s games like Pac Man and Super Mario)
08. I've tried marijuana
09. I've watched porn movies
11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship
12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy
15. I curse
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year
20. I'm pretty smart (book smart, love stupid)
22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal
23. I love the rain
24. I'm paranoid at times
25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free
26. I need money right now
32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister
34. I shave my legs (females) or face (males) on a regular basis (during the summer, anyway...)
35. I have a twin - or at least somebody I can share my life with (unfortunately for me, I think my soul mate is Renee, which will make getting married somewhat more difficult)
37. I couldn't survive without Caller I.D.
39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months
42. I have a lot of mood swings
43. I think prostitution should be legalized
44. At one point I liked Britney Spears
45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past
46. I have a hidden talent (though it's revealed if you date me for any extended period of time, wink wink)
50. I have kissed someone of the same sex
52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants
53. I like to shop (not for clothes, though)
61. I'm completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother
62. I have a cell phone
63. I believe in God
66. I love drama
68. I've rejected someone before
69. I currently have a crush on someone
71. I want to have children in the future (I made this one gray because for me, it's not a black-and-white issue)
72. I have changed a diaper before
77. I have a lot to learn
78. I have dated someone at least 5 years older
80. I am shy around the opposite sex sometimes (shut up, I am)
83. I have tried alcohol before
87. When I was a kid I played "the birds and the bees" with a neighbor or friend
88. I enjoy some country music
89. I would die for my best friend
96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy
97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I love it
99. I have hurt my self intentionally before

Finding my cojones.

I know that some of you may find this hard to believe, but I sometimes have a hard time standing up for myself (usually in a work/professional capacity). That is why, even though my 45-hour workweek with the S's has slowly crept up to 50, I was still being paid the same amount of money (although they WERE really good about paying me for days off).

We are ending my first week as Part Time Nanny, and as I was leaving last night, I asked Mr. S how we were going to figure out my weekly pay. I assumed that we'd take my previous weekly salary and divide it by how many hours we ORIGINALLY agreed that I'd be working; based on this hourly rate, I would just keep track of my hours and be paid accordingly. Sounds like they had other plans, though. (DISCLAIMER: I honestly don't think that they were setting out to screw me. I think that were just unconsciously resorting to the method that worked out in their favor.)

Anyway, Mr. S told me that Mrs. S was just going to pay me half of my original weekly salary, as I was working half the hours. "So tomorrow, I'll have $x ready for you," he said. (I should say that, now that I'm part time, my hours--and my pay--are all under the table--no taxes being taken out, etc.)

Wait. $X? That was not half of my original weekly salary. That was half of what they were paying me AFTER taxes were taken out. Granted, in this particular case, it was only a lost of about $33--but a lost nonetheless. One that we certainly can't afford right now.

Plus--I realized once I got home and had time to think about it (because of course I didn't have the nerve to say anything to him last night), continuing to be paid just one base amount was only going to lead to trouble again. Sure, it worked out just fine if I worked 20, even 22 hours a week--but what if I ended up staying past my scheduled time a few nights (or even every night, which is what has been happening)? What if that 20-hour week became a 27 or 30 hour week--and I was still getting that same amount? PLUS, they weren't even calculating that base rate correctly, as it was NOT half of my origional weekly salary. I mean, if they weren't going to pay taxes on it, that's fine--but then that extra money should be going to ME, as the taxes were money that were coming out of MY pocket in the first place.

So anyway, I called Mrs S this afternoon (I'm off today) and basically told her that I'd feel more comfortable just using $Y as my hourly rate (I explained to her how I came up with that number) and then just paying me based on how many hours I worked each week. (Novel concept, eh?) She sounded a bit surprised and taken aback, but she said that that was fine with her. (She also alluded to the fact that, if things at the office continued as they have been, she wasn't even going to be working part time anymore--which means, of course, that they wouldn't need me at all.)

SO. This was a VERY long story to explain a pretty simple and straight-forward issue, but I'm so proud of myself that I wanted to revel in it a bit.

(PS--they still haven't paid me the $15 assessed on MY account when THEIR check bounced--but I'm going to have to let that one go. I'm choosing my battles, grasshoppas.)

"Dough!"

Well, we're back from Blog Party 2005 and it was a huge success. There was much eating, drinking and girl-bonding (but not THAT kind, so get your minds out of the gutter). Renee's house is gorgeous, I now plan to move to Granger (South Bend/ Elkhart, IN area) and everyone got along famously--although Renee and Anna had met each other before, this was the first time that Kishelle was introduced into the mix; and, not counting a very cruel false alarm (you guys are bitches), we all fell into a very easy, comfortable friendship.

Anna and I hit HORRIBLE traffic (due to the infernal Michigan construction) on the way there, so our "3 hour tour" turned into a 5-hour nightmare. However, narrowly escaping the falling concrete that cascaded down onto the highway due to an unfortunate incident involving a forklift and a cement truck certainly helped to break up the monotony of traveling **17** miles in an hour and 15 minutes.

Some other highlights:

• A heated, yet drunken, game of "blondes vs. brunettes" 90s Trivia Pursuit (it was a tie, but it resulted in some pretty entertaining answers, including the name of this post)
• Me almost knocking myself unconscious as I threw my head back to take a shot, not knowing that Renee had opened the pantry door behind me)
• Kishelle mastering the "69"
• The party in the Victoria's Secret panties section
• My new size 8 skirt (okay, so maybe these are MY highlights; they'll have to give you their own versions, I guess)

There are many more details, of course (some we'll tell, and some we won't), but this was a brief overview. (Yes, there are pictures...and we'll actually post some of them.) ;)

This is why I doubt my mothering abilities.

The kids are horrible today. HORRIBLE. Fighting, tattling, crying over nothing at all (Noah actually cried today because we were laughing in the car, and "I'm hungry so I don't want to hear any laughing"). I've lost my temper with them, on average, of once every 15 minutes. I am counting the minutes until I can go home. Did they wake up and jointly decide, "Hey, this is Supernanny's last full day, so let's make she leaves in a straight jacket?" Or, perhaps, are my nerves more frayed because I'm sad that I'll be with them a couple of hours a day, and so I'm disguising my sadness as anger and irritation? (Hmmm...)

No, but seriously, I cringe at the mere thought of motherhood on days like these. The only thing getting me through the day is the knowledge that, in 4 hours, I'll be getting the hell out of here--for the WHOLE WEEKEND, even. And I get to do leave and go back to my kid-free apartment EVERY night and EVERY weekend. If I were sitting here, knowing that I would be here (and that they would be here) EVERY DAY, EVERY MINUTE, FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES--I do believe that I'd be sitting in a corner by now, rocking and humming.

As much as I love these kids--and kids in general--I do believe that I have a finite amount of patience each day and that such a limited supply thereby eliminates the option of parenthood. And I know some of you are thinking, "Well, it'd be different if they were YOUR kids, your own flesh and blood...." Nice thought, but I dont' think so.

I'm good with kids. I know this. But I'm only good with kids for, oh, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Much more than that, and I tend to get pretty bitchy.

Good to know.

Fear the 'Fro.

And I'm not talking about the Piston's Ben Wallace. I'm talking about ME.

I have very thick, sometimes wavy (when it air dries) blondish hair. Yes, I realize that for those with very fine hair, it may sound pretty darn appealing. But it's so thick that I have to get it cut very frequently, or I start looking like Big Ben. (Once, my hairdresser's comb actually broke off in my hair.) Every time I get my hair cut, I inevitably hear some version of: "Wow, you have a lot of hair."

After I got my hair cut yesterday (and ladies, I warn you that it's shorter than it's been in a while--all one length still, but it falls between my ear and my jaw, as opposed to my chin and my shoulders), I looked at the copious amounts of hair on the floor and the chair and my hairdresser--and, well, it was EVERYWHERE--and I joked, "You know, I probably lost like 5 pounds right there."

Well, I weighed myself this morning, and I'll be damned if I'm not 3 pounds lighter.

Dang, if I can lose 3 pounds by cutting my hair, imagine how much I'll lose after my "chest" reduction. (Which I absolutely plan on during the summer after my first year of teaching, when I have insurance and time to recover....but that's a whole different post).

*Thud*

Madison and I were playing Uno when we suddenly heard a thud at the window. I knew it was a bird, so--like any brave, fearless nanny--I sent the 4-year-old to check out the situation.

"There's a bird on the step!" he reported.

Crap. That's what I was afraid of.

"Is he standing up and looking around?" I asked hopefully.

"No. He's laying there and his feet are up."

Crap.

That was half an hour ago. I keep hoping that he just knocked himself out and that soon he'll wake up, but the odds of that are dwindling by the minute.

We'll just have to use the garage door all day because I am NOT removing a dead bird.

And speaking of things that you think are dead but revive themselves at the last minute--the Pistons' run for the championship. (That was either a GREAT segue or a really, really bad one.) I totally thought that once they lost at home on Sunday and had to go back to San An for the next two games that the series was basically over. I wasn't the only one; hell, the Spurs had their victory parade planned for Thursday (their at-home record HAS been pretty hard to beat). Instead, Game 7 will be held that night in Texas. I don't know if Detroit can pull off that miracle win two games in a row--but so many people were surprised by the results of last night's game that I suppose, at this point, anything's possible.

SECURITY BREACH!

Well, my mother, who has difficulty mastering Email Basics, is apparently more computer-savvy than I gave her credit for, as she used my profile from the Soldiers' Angels blog to find her way to THIS blog. I WAS somewhat afraid of that, which is why I didn't send my grandmother the SA link ("G" is actually pretty technologically competent--probably more so than my mom). Mom knew that I HAD a blog; I've just refused to tell her where it is. It was better for both of us, really.

So Mom, I must warn you that if you continue to read through the blog entries, you do so at your own risk. You can't ever give me shit about anything you read on here (because let's face it, there may be details of my life that I discuss with my friends that you would sleep better at night not knowing). In fact, if you haven't read anything too disturbing yet, then you may want to quit while you're ahead. (And before you have a "myocardial infarction" like Renee did, the Rob who posts on here is NOT Ex-Boyfriend Rob. This Rob is like the New Kory.)

Oh, and Nikki....as it turns out, she knows how to follow the links to OTHER PEOPLE'S blogs, as well. Just a heads up. ;)

Empty Nest Syndrome.

My babies left the nest this weekend (the last one within the past few hours or so). I already miss them. Still, watching them hatch and "grow up" over the last couple of weeks has really been cool. I hope that this second roll of pictures turn out halfway decently.

Update:

So I was out walking tonight, and on the sidewalk across the parking lot, I saw three kids squatting down looking at something. I smiled at them as I walked by (as I do every time I pass them on my walk-- they're Arab American kids, so because I've always been unsure of their English-speaking abilities, I've just been relying on non-verbal communication. As it turns out, their English is somewhat broken, but we're able to communicate), and they pointed at what had caught their attention.

I'll be damned if it wasn't one of my baby birds. I KNOW that it was. And it was just sitting there with a leaf on its back. ("It's the blanket," the older boy told me matter-of-factly. "Ah," I said, nodding. "Of course."). I don't think he was HURT, I just think that his flying skills aren't very good yet.

We talked about "my" baby birds. ("What color they are?" asked one of the little girls. I explained that they looked just like our little buddy on the sidewalk there, and I pointed out some of the colors--gray, black, white, brownish-orange.) I told them that I was pretty sure that this bird came out of the nest by balcony (I pointed it out across the parking lot), and together, their eyes wide and excited, we created our plan. (These children were just absolutely beautiful--big dark eyes, beautiful skin, glossy black hair.)

See, with all the dangers lurking about this complex, I couldn't just let my baby sit there. He wouldn't have lasted very long. If a cat didn't get him, I was afraid he'd hop his little ass back into the parking lot or something. So I picked him up, cradled him against my body and carried him back across the parking lot and upstairs to my apartment, where I gently placed him back into his nest. ("What are you doing??" I could hear him thinking. "It took me TWO DAYS to get that far!") I know that you aren't supposed to touch baby animals, as the human scent can cause the mother to reject them, but Mamma Bird had already left the nest earlier in the week. (Trust me, I've been anxiously watching for her--but she's gone. At one point, I told Jeff I was going out to buy some worms, to which he muttered something about "mental hospital" and "no insurance." I assume, though, that it's nature's way of prompting the babies to leave the nest and seek their own way. So hopefully, by touching him, I didn't do any damage.)

I left to finish the rest of my walk. I just got back and checked on him; he's on a branch right outside of the nest.

I know, I'm not right.

Check your credit report!

As you probably know by now, you can get a free copy of your credit report (one from EACH of the major reporting agencies) through https://www.annualcreditreport.com/. (You East Coasters will have to wait until September, though.) Anyway, if you haven't already done so, I highly suggest that you order and review your credit report. Due to my Dire Financial History, I truly dreaded seeing in black and white what a mess I managed to make of my fiscal life--but you know what? There was an address on my report--a PO Box in Cali--with which I have never been associated. Apparently, in 2002, someone may have made an attempt to Identity Theft me. (I pity the poor bastard who tried to obtain a credit card in MY name, though.) Although all of the open accounts were, in fact, mine (unfortunately), it's still good to be aware of the activity on your credit report--especially as we're all at the age (if not the actual STAGE) of mortgages, car loans, etc.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need a stiff drink.

Book suggestions, please.

Since I'm spending so much time at the library with my kids, I'm on a mission to read a lot of contemporary classics that I somehow never got around to reading. (By "contemporary," I mean in the last 50 years or so--but not TOO modern, or else it's not a classic. You with me?) For example, I finally read Catcher in the Rye (pretty good). I'm working on Girl with a Peal Earring right now (I know it's not really a "classic," but the librarian recommended it).

So if any of you have a book that you love and consider a must read, please let me know.

(Yes, it's Friday night and I'm asking for book suggestions. I suck.)

On the Demise of the Sitcom

I'm feeling sad again today that there are hardly any new funny sitcoms out there anymore.
While still mourning the deaths of Seinfeld and Friends and the fresh loss of Raymond, I'm wondering if there's anything funny out there worth watching anymore. Yes, there's Joey and Will & Grace but all the new shows advertising for next fall are either reality shows or dramas. Who decided I'd rather watch people in swim suits eat worms than laugh my ass off for a half hour a week? Bad choice, TV Execs!

Where have all the sitcoms gone?