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Sympathy Pains
April 30, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
My husband is probably going to kill me for this…
BFam is a recluse. A private, bottled-up, introverted, quiet hermit. I joke with him all the time that he sold me a lemon while we were dating. I thought I was getting an outgoing, lively, boisterous, fabulously witty man and instead got… the recluse. Not many weeks into our dating lives, BFam was hit with a magnitude of personal stresses. One after the other, it seemed it would never end. How poetic and ironic that I was there with him through it all – start to finish. In some ways, the stress brought us closer together. But the results of these personal battles tore him apart mentally, and eviscerated the psyche of the man I’d come to know. In the twelve (HOLY MOLEY!) years we’ve been together, he is not the same positive, outgoing, comedic, sarcastic, optimistic guy anymore. Truth be told, I kinda miss that guy.
His overall change is no more evident than in his waistline. I’ve mentioned (and should be chronicling – sorry about that) my weight loss roller coaster. Being told by more than one doctor you could stand to lose a few is jarring. And, surprisingly, violent yet therapeutic should you opt to punch them in the mouth. I don’t know if my weight struggles drove my husband into a binge-induced episode but, after a recent visit with his own doctor, he was also told he could stand to lose – wait for it – 30 POUNDS! Sure, I’ve noticed a little more poundage in his midsection. But BFam is 5′ 7″ with legs of a chicken (rooster?). Those 30 pounds are a fast train to hell full of future health problems. High cholesterol. Hypertension. Diabetes. Heart disease. Black men have a terrible way to go in terms of health obstacles. With every pound they gain and every unhealthy lifestyle choice they make, their lifespan is drastically reduced. My grandfather battled heart disease the majority of his over-50 life, and it is ultimately what killed him. I am not playing around when it comes to the health of my vertically challenged man.
You see this?
This is the top layer of our freezer. Notice the ice CREAMS (plural). I might not be playing around, but apparently he is.
Oh, wait. Look! There’s more ice cream! Ice cream I would wager my first born is only useful for science experiments. Do I have any bidders? How about we throw in a taste-test to make it interesting?
This is a pitcher (not sure the measurements so we’ll go with the largest generalized size I can think of… TUB!) of ice cream from Mooter’s seventh birthday party. In October. Of 2008.
I’ll wait while you go puke…
Silly me trying to lead by example. You want ice cream? You can have your ice cream with half the fat and the same great taste as the leading original brand of ice cream. Same taste, less filling… or something.
How about some Lean Cuisine? Enough sodium to kill a small village in Indonesia but FEEL those belly rolls melting away.
Hello… what do we have here? For a cake you say?
For you sister’s birthday, you say?
*sigh* I’ve got a long road ahead. Pray for me.
FEAR No. 025 – Fifteen Minute Warning
April 29, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
What breeds instant success? Is there such a thing? Does the fifteen minute rule still apply?
I joke (not really joking, but OK) about the amount of TV I watch and how adamant I am about the quality of shows streaming the idiot box nowadays. No one gives a show a chance. Shows that have had a chance suck. Networks won’t support a show licensed through a larger, big brother-type production company (eg. Warner Bros., Paramount, etc.) because they want all the money, therefore the good-quality show must suffer while the corporate brass duke it out. It’s all a mess and no one gives a rat’s patoot about the consumer in any of this.
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Golden Glory
April 27, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I loved Bea Arthur. She gave us tall, raspy-voiced, goofy, dry humored girls a good name. She could do deadpan like no one else, and she was my favorite Golden Girl. OK, they were all my favorite, really. But if I had to order them from favorite to least favorite, it would go:
- Sophia
- Dorothy
- Rose
- Blanche
Sophia’s gone. And now Dorothy. I was sad to hear of Bea’s passing over the weekend. And to cancer! I’m not sure if anyone’s paying attention, but the world is getting its choice of pandemics lately. HIV/AIDS, cancer, bird flu, swine flu -- the lists go on. I don’t even want to ask what’s next because I’m not sure I could handle the answer. The world is overpopulated. I get it. Please don’t kill us off, OK?
It’s not really a tribute, but here are a few funny Bea Arthur gems I’d found in my search over the weekend. Enjoy! (**WARNING: Some of it is a bit racy, eg. language**)
Before And After
April 24, 2009 by NaysWay · 2 Comments
In case you were wondering, this is the view outside my office window. Nice, huh? It would give you the impression this wasn’t a dying, broken-down shell of a city.
Looks can be deceiving.
Cleveland is a weird place to live. Unless you were born and raised here, you don’t really have a desire to stick around long. In my 9-to-5, we’ve had employees be transferred here (probably against their will), only to defect and beg to be shipped somewhere – ANYWHERE – but here in a matter of months. We had one guy complain almost every single day until he finally got his wish. “I hate Cleveland! This place sucks! Who would want to live here?! It’s cold for no reason! You guys have the worst weather! Why does it have to snow here all the time?! This entire city should be standing in line to jump out of the highest window because of this weather! It’s a natural depressant… that, and there’s no city life! How is this a real city if there’s not city life?!”
And he was from Minneapolis.
I don’t love my city. A lot of days, I roll out of bed barely liking my city. But it’s mine. And like the drunk uncle at the family reunion, I get defensive when strangers talk smack about my city. If you’re family, then, yes, Uncle Frank probably DID take it too far singing Down Home Blues during Reverend Thomas’ prayer. We may not have much. We may act a little crazy. We may say and do outrageously inappropriate things. But this is our home. So shut it!
Don’t make me come over there.
Photos were taken earlier this month out of the same office window. Let us test the theory of said ridiculous weather, shall we?
Early April:
Late April:
Cavs April.
Awesome.
Cleveland might not be good for your (mental) health. But if you’re from here, you love tolerate here.
Now, quick! Run outside this weekend and have a good time playing with your kids! Or doing cartwheels! Or dodging bullets and car jackers! Hurry before the next blizzard! I am not making this up!
Comedic Timing
April 23, 2009 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Mooter: Mom. Give me your hand.
Me: No.
Mooter: Please? I have a really funny joke to tell you, but I need your hand ‘cuz I gotta show you when I tell you.
Me: What kind of joke? Is it funny?
Mooter: Just give me your hand. Bridget told it to me.
Me: No. Show me the joke with your hand.
Mooter: Awwww, man! OK. [puts up her hand] What’s your name?
Me: [says my name; she drops pinky finger down]
Mooter: What’s my name?
Me: [says name; drops ring finger down; middle finger's next... I'm getting worried]
Mooter: What’s her name? [points to Booger who's in the room and just as perplexed as I am at this point]
Me: [says name; middle finger goes down *phew*]
Mooter: What’s… um… wait… What’s your, I mean my, I mean, um…
Me: …
Mooter: Wait! I got it. What’s your name?
Me: [says name; first finger down; thumb points to her chest]
Mooter: Then why are you holding a piece of candy? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA–
Me: ….
Mooter: –AHAHAHAHAHAHA! You get it Mom?! Isn’t that FUNNY!
Me: That has got to be the worst joke I’ve ever heard in my life.
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