The folks over at Kroger have hired some crack detectives masquerading as cashiers. One agent in particular (we'll call her Alma) was quick to notice that I had only purchased one jar of tomato sauce instead of the two that the said coupon stipulated. Apparently, this opened up a flood gate for a line of questioning starting with my brand of toilet paper. "I see this coupon is for two double rolls of Charmin." I began fishing through plastic bags in search of the shrink-wrapped ass wipe. From then on I was not a shopper, I was a COUPON CRIMINAL.
Impatient shoppers behind me had become bored with the scandal rags and began to sway from one leg to another. Each piece of carefully clipped paper produced a cold sweat across my forehead as I tried to recall whether I had indeed purchased the right amount of the right product. Luckily, I was only caught with the one misdemeanor and was let off with just a warning.
There is a new sheriff in town, and I have no plans to mess around with her. Her weapon: a scanner. Her mission: to crack down on coupon criminals.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Play by play playdate
I remember watching commercials as a twenty-something for popular headache remedies and never being able to connect. The commercial would open with a Mom clutching and rubbing her temples. The scene behind her was always wild and chaotic with several children literally bouncing off the walls and furniture. Internally I would laugh and dismiss this scene as ridiculous. Not me. Bullshit.
btw, I have a headache THIS BIG, and it has crazy fucking kids written all over it. Here is why:
10:37PM -Cries erupt from my 2 year old daughters room. It seems that she decided to sleep in the buff again. My husband was kind enough to clean her up and leave me a ball of piss-soaked bedding on the floor.
10:51PM - Deposited the crumpled mess into the washing machine and retired to my bed where my husband and our little screamer were already asleep. By this time the only thing left to watch on the boob tube was crappy home improvement shows like, "Clean Sweep."
5:22AM- Goldendoodle puppy started his freedom campaign.
6:02AM-6:41AM Total blur. No coffee yet.
6:53AM- Coffee has slowly begun to kick in. Maternal instinct also kicks in and I manage to make a bowl of cereal for my son.
7:28AM- Carpool arrives. Hug and kiss my son.
8:02AM- Screaming 2 year old is now awake and looking for me. Spend the next few minutes on good morning hugs.
8:03AM- Spend the next few minutes pinning my daughter down to brush her teeth. Manage to avoid bloodshed by the skin of her teeth.
8:07AM-8:31AM Zone out in front of computer updating my Facebook and Linked In profile while 2 year-old zones out in front of Dora The Explorer.
8:33AM- Realize that the piss-soaked sheets are waiting for me. Open washing machine to find that the pissy pull-up was part of the crumpled mess from the night before. Strange gelatinous chemicals coat my sports bra and daughter's sheets. It smells worse that it sounds.
8:39AM-More fucking laundry.
9:02PM- Dog begins his daily mission of chewing the shit out of everything that does or doesn't move. His only criteria is that it be something very precious to his owners, and has not been touched by himself or any other canine.
10:00AM-11:37AM- Neighborhood parents meeting. Perfect opportunity for me to bitch about my day. Leave the meeting with my screaming daughter tucked UNDER my arm like a cheap piece of luggage.
11:37AM-12:31PM- Whining continues from backseat until I am finally strong-armed into turning on Spongebob for 30-50lb passengers. Make a mental note to workout and crack a few beers after the kids go to bed.
12:32PM-3:14PM- Experience some relief thanks to daughter's nap and son's playdate. Decide to update my blog.
3:18PM- Enter puking puppy. Clean up mess and count the minutes till my husband arrives home. Must get outside and run my ass off.
3:19PM- It starts raining. Scratch plans to run outside.
3:30PM-Panic begins to set-in after several feeble attempts to fix plastic cockroach fail.
3:43PM - Husband surprises me with a brand-new Dyson, to which I exclaim, "You KNOW how passionate I am about vacuuming!" (seriously...and I'm NOT being sarcastic.)
5:00PM- Made it to the gym. This would be the only time my kids DON'T seem to need me to do much of anything. Must be the fact that they are parked in front of Yo Gabba Gabba aka visual crack for kids.
6:40PM- Arrive at Chick-Fil-A for a fundraising event in sweaty workout clothes. Managed to run into EVERY fucking teacher from my son's school. Either they think I am some sort of a gym rat, or I work on a alpaca farm.
7:17PM- Kids are being especially needy which only ads to my level of stress. Work in a quick shower and shave. Exit the shower with streaks of blood on my shins. Frightened children.
7:59PM- Suggestion to brush teeth gets ugly. Pinned down dear daughter and managed to scrape just enough plaque off her teeth to stave off gingivitis.
8:01PM- Stormed downstairs in frustration. Husband took reins and put children to bed.
8:02PM-Parked myself in front of a bad movie and bought some downtime between last minute business calls.
10:42PM-Had strange dreams about my childhood memories.
6:02AM-Took no prisoners and popped an Excedrin. They may not be yellow or different, but they have my day written all over them.
btw, I have a headache THIS BIG, and it has crazy fucking kids written all over it. Here is why:
10:37PM -Cries erupt from my 2 year old daughters room. It seems that she decided to sleep in the buff again. My husband was kind enough to clean her up and leave me a ball of piss-soaked bedding on the floor.
10:51PM - Deposited the crumpled mess into the washing machine and retired to my bed where my husband and our little screamer were already asleep. By this time the only thing left to watch on the boob tube was crappy home improvement shows like, "Clean Sweep."
5:22AM- Goldendoodle puppy started his freedom campaign.
6:02AM-6:41AM Total blur. No coffee yet.
6:53AM- Coffee has slowly begun to kick in. Maternal instinct also kicks in and I manage to make a bowl of cereal for my son.
7:28AM- Carpool arrives. Hug and kiss my son.
8:02AM- Screaming 2 year old is now awake and looking for me. Spend the next few minutes on good morning hugs.
8:03AM- Spend the next few minutes pinning my daughter down to brush her teeth. Manage to avoid bloodshed by the skin of her teeth.
8:07AM-8:31AM Zone out in front of computer updating my Facebook and Linked In profile while 2 year-old zones out in front of Dora The Explorer.
8:33AM- Realize that the piss-soaked sheets are waiting for me. Open washing machine to find that the pissy pull-up was part of the crumpled mess from the night before. Strange gelatinous chemicals coat my sports bra and daughter's sheets. It smells worse that it sounds.
8:39AM-More fucking laundry.
9:02PM- Dog begins his daily mission of chewing the shit out of everything that does or doesn't move. His only criteria is that it be something very precious to his owners, and has not been touched by himself or any other canine.
10:00AM-11:37AM- Neighborhood parents meeting. Perfect opportunity for me to bitch about my day. Leave the meeting with my screaming daughter tucked UNDER my arm like a cheap piece of luggage.
11:37AM-12:31PM- Whining continues from backseat until I am finally strong-armed into turning on Spongebob for 30-50lb passengers. Make a mental note to workout and crack a few beers after the kids go to bed.
12:32PM-3:14PM- Experience some relief thanks to daughter's nap and son's playdate. Decide to update my blog.
3:18PM- Enter puking puppy. Clean up mess and count the minutes till my husband arrives home. Must get outside and run my ass off.
3:19PM- It starts raining. Scratch plans to run outside.
3:30PM-Panic begins to set-in after several feeble attempts to fix plastic cockroach fail.
3:43PM - Husband surprises me with a brand-new Dyson, to which I exclaim, "You KNOW how passionate I am about vacuuming!" (seriously...and I'm NOT being sarcastic.)
5:00PM- Made it to the gym. This would be the only time my kids DON'T seem to need me to do much of anything. Must be the fact that they are parked in front of Yo Gabba Gabba aka visual crack for kids.
6:40PM- Arrive at Chick-Fil-A for a fundraising event in sweaty workout clothes. Managed to run into EVERY fucking teacher from my son's school. Either they think I am some sort of a gym rat, or I work on a alpaca farm.
7:17PM- Kids are being especially needy which only ads to my level of stress. Work in a quick shower and shave. Exit the shower with streaks of blood on my shins. Frightened children.
7:59PM- Suggestion to brush teeth gets ugly. Pinned down dear daughter and managed to scrape just enough plaque off her teeth to stave off gingivitis.
8:01PM- Stormed downstairs in frustration. Husband took reins and put children to bed.
8:02PM-Parked myself in front of a bad movie and bought some downtime between last minute business calls.
10:42PM-Had strange dreams about my childhood memories.
6:02AM-Took no prisoners and popped an Excedrin. They may not be yellow or different, but they have my day written all over them.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Resignation
My first attempt at starting a story-telling writing business was a flop. Not any ordinary flop but more like the kind of belly flop that stings the diver and any onlookers. Here is an account of my final day on the "diving board."
I arrived at Whispering Pines Nursing and Rehabilitation Center around 9am. The parking lot looked more desperate than the residents inside. Large overgrown weeds grew through the cracks of the driveways' pavement lurching into oncoming traffic for a chance at freedom. I was already starting to sweat through the armpits of my snug Brooks Brothers button-down shirt. Why the fuck did I wear this shirt?!
The main hall smelled of dirty furniture and dirty bodies. Warn and stained sofas decorated a small sitting area that separated the tiny rooms that were also the residents home and world. I was directed to my vendor table, where I got busy arranging sugar-free candies and carefully printed flyers. I was surrounded by strange knock-off Lladro that adorned the particle board china cabinet next to my station. A framed print-out caught my eye. It read: WE REMEMBER NURSING AND REHABILITATION RESIDENTS WHO HAVE DIED IN THE PAST SIX MONTHS. They couldn't have come up with a better line or phrase to honor those that have passed away?
Today the biggest impact was felt in the free candy rather than the stack of flyers and business cards that just sat there mocking me. For the past three months, I had devoted my free and paid time to launching a story telling business, and all I have to show for it is frustration. One resident with greasy hair and a worn wallet circles my table. She is mumbling about the amount of people that are crowding her hallway. Apparently for her, "Family and Friends Day" is sheer hell. Another resident we will call her, "Bonita" makes her way to my table. Her face is both kind and confused, and she beams when she sees my confections (now scattered) laying across the white table cloth. I can't help but encourage her to take a few more for visiting grandchildren. The caregivers or CNAs seem to do the lions share of the work for the least amount of pay. One thing I've noticed about the caregivers is that their expressions tell more about them than their resume.
Three hours later I close for business. Today, I continue to write but have put the story telling aspect to bed. I am happily distracted by my two wonderful children, who remind me that belly flops real or metaphor are worth the experience.
I arrived at Whispering Pines Nursing and Rehabilitation Center around 9am. The parking lot looked more desperate than the residents inside. Large overgrown weeds grew through the cracks of the driveways' pavement lurching into oncoming traffic for a chance at freedom. I was already starting to sweat through the armpits of my snug Brooks Brothers button-down shirt. Why the fuck did I wear this shirt?!
The main hall smelled of dirty furniture and dirty bodies. Warn and stained sofas decorated a small sitting area that separated the tiny rooms that were also the residents home and world. I was directed to my vendor table, where I got busy arranging sugar-free candies and carefully printed flyers. I was surrounded by strange knock-off Lladro that adorned the particle board china cabinet next to my station. A framed print-out caught my eye. It read: WE REMEMBER NURSING AND REHABILITATION RESIDENTS WHO HAVE DIED IN THE PAST SIX MONTHS. They couldn't have come up with a better line or phrase to honor those that have passed away?
Today the biggest impact was felt in the free candy rather than the stack of flyers and business cards that just sat there mocking me. For the past three months, I had devoted my free and paid time to launching a story telling business, and all I have to show for it is frustration. One resident with greasy hair and a worn wallet circles my table. She is mumbling about the amount of people that are crowding her hallway. Apparently for her, "Family and Friends Day" is sheer hell. Another resident we will call her, "Bonita" makes her way to my table. Her face is both kind and confused, and she beams when she sees my confections (now scattered) laying across the white table cloth. I can't help but encourage her to take a few more for visiting grandchildren. The caregivers or CNAs seem to do the lions share of the work for the least amount of pay. One thing I've noticed about the caregivers is that their expressions tell more about them than their resume.
Three hours later I close for business. Today, I continue to write but have put the story telling aspect to bed. I am happily distracted by my two wonderful children, who remind me that belly flops real or metaphor are worth the experience.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Hollywood comes to the burbs
I have been on hiatus for some time, and to my loyal followers (all 2 of you) I sincerely apologize.
It appears that the rumor to film an Ashton Kutcher movie in my neighborhood is actually a true statement. I decided to give lady luck a try at a recent open casting call held at the local elementary school cafeteria (nothing but the best.)
If Lionsgate films is looking for a stressed out mother, a screaming two year-old, and one impatient 4 year-old then we have a good shot at a part. However, that hasn't stopped me from trying to get my back or legs cast in the film. Each day, I take to the streets of my neighborhood in my best workout clothes (clothes normally reserved for knocking around rather than running around) hoping for a chance to be cast as "jogger in background." A title that I take quite seriously.
Up until a few weeks ago, I could have given 2 shits about celebrities or my fulfillment of my 15 mintues. But there is something about being a part of filming that plays into the main reason we love movies, escapism. Either way, I don't give a shit. The hollywood bug has bitten me, and I am loving every childish minute of running past construction workers and set designers.
It appears that the rumor to film an Ashton Kutcher movie in my neighborhood is actually a true statement. I decided to give lady luck a try at a recent open casting call held at the local elementary school cafeteria (nothing but the best.)
If Lionsgate films is looking for a stressed out mother, a screaming two year-old, and one impatient 4 year-old then we have a good shot at a part. However, that hasn't stopped me from trying to get my back or legs cast in the film. Each day, I take to the streets of my neighborhood in my best workout clothes (clothes normally reserved for knocking around rather than running around) hoping for a chance to be cast as "jogger in background." A title that I take quite seriously.
Up until a few weeks ago, I could have given 2 shits about celebrities or my fulfillment of my 15 mintues. But there is something about being a part of filming that plays into the main reason we love movies, escapism. Either way, I don't give a shit. The hollywood bug has bitten me, and I am loving every childish minute of running past construction workers and set designers.
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