Category Archives: random

My son turned 14 and I am wearing braces.

There are 6 teenage boys now in my house and they are staying overnight until tomorrow noon. Sleepover is a misnomer: there will be NO sleep involved. They will be up all night, taking over the house while I hide in my locked bedroom. Fortunately my boy runs with the nerd crowd so give them each a Wii remote control and time flies, as they say, Mario Cart style. Of course, when the sun comes up tomorrow, I will be ushered into the Dawn of the Dead (Tired): these teenagers, being outside of Asia where the Tiger Moms roam, are untrained in the Tao of Midnight Oil Burning (“OMG. The teacher gives them so much homework. My son spent TWO HOURS last night doing his math homework!” Yah… I bit my tongue for that one.) They all talk a big game, and yet we know, tomorrow they will be complaining about headaches and extreme exhaustion and whimper like little babies. Thank goodness tomorrow also happens to be my least favorite day of the year – I have a slogan for it too, Spring Forward My Ass – so I am actually one hour closer to liberation.

Hurrah!

The lady brigade suggested lots of booze to help me survive the Night of the Undead. When in doubt, add Vodka. And sometimes, bacon. Unfortunately for me though, I have something in my mouth which, actually, is one of the biggest mistakes I have made in my life, I am convinced.

Last Saturday, I got Invisaligned.

Oh no no. Taking these suckers out is NOT an one-handed job. *He he. Rim shot?* All the glossy pictures featuring beautiful people do not show you the “anchors” on my teeth to secure the braces. These bumps make me look like a vampire (of the non-sexy variety) and make it a pain to take them out, and that means I basically have only limited windows every day to eat and drink. On the first day, I tore the bottom liner out of frustration and panic when I was dizzy with hunger. “What if I cannot take these things out and I have to stop eating for the next 12 months?!” On top of the dreadful task of taking the liners out (which reminds me of the first few days when I got my first contact lenses), I am also very very lazy, and I do not like the thought of having to brush and floss my teeth AFTER every bite or sip before I put the liners back on.

This is torture for a grazer. In this past week I have experienced thousands of moments when I thought about eating but could not. It’s revealing because, if not for my inability to do so, I would not have even given it any thought before I polished off say a whole bag of Sun Chips, or ate half of the strawberries while cutting them. Gone are the days to hold a ~~cocktail~~ giant beer glass and sip my Cranvodka the whole ~~day~~ night. No more lounging at Starbucks for hours. (Ok. Fine. I don’t get to do that anyway… But you get the point) I feel unsettled and restless the whole day, like something is wrong but I cannot quite put my finger on it. The promise of losing weight from this self-enforced starvation? Ha. I am half-starved for the past week but still managed to gain 5 lbs. HOW? Because when it comes time to eat, I eat like a starved person, like someone who has no idea when they are going to see food again. I now eat appetizers, main courses, AND desserts. After I am done with my meal, I survey the pantry and the fridge to find all things that I think I may have a cravings for later during the day and I shove them into my mouth.

At the same time, I also got a raging case of pink eye and was therefore rocking my geek-cred thick-coke-bottle glasses. Along with new braces, my weight gain, and the telltale rash around my waist band…

Liz Lemon: God, three weddings in one day, I’m going to be in Spanx for 12 hours. My elastic line is gonna get infected again.

I’ve had a week of low self-esteem, which meant only one thing: I needed food for emotional support.

Like I said, one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my life. So far.

Maybe I should try and top it with another bad decision? Maybe I should just say “Oh, fuck it”, and go have pizza, cake, chips and a big giant glass of Cranvodka tonight? I mean, it’s my kid’s birthday party right? I gave birth to that little guy (now measuring 5’10”) fourteen years ago so I deserve a night off from this mental torture device, right?

Happy Birthday, Number One Son! Let’s party! Separately of course. I am cool like that. You guys stay downstairs and watch mindless YouTube videos while I surround myself with all the food that I bought for you and watch an R-rated movie. Now who’s going to help mommy carry all the food and the bottle of vodka and cranberry juice upstairs?

Update: I did not even get to eat anything when the doorbell all of a sudden went off. “Are you guys expecting more people?” “No…” We opened the door and it was The Girls. Well, I guess I have officially thrown a cool party right if it’s been crashed? You’d be happy to know that after I corralled them into singing Happy Birthday and cut the birthday pies, I quickly grabbed my bottle of ready-made Costco Margarita (NO cranberry juice in the house!) and headed upstairs while leaving Mr. Monk, my 9-year-old in charge.

I want to be your personal penguin…

10 Replies

I re-discovered and fell in love with Davy Jones again when I saw that he was the voice behind our favorite Sandra Boynton song, I Want to be Your Personal Penguin.

I’ve always thought that one would be lucky in life to meet someone that makes you want to sing this song to them. We should all be so lucky to have our own personal penguins.

RIP Davy Jones.

Things I am obsessed with

30 Replies

… recently, and for the time being.

I have never been addicted to anything. Not even to love. That’s the tragic burden I have to bear as someone who can never seem to manage to stick to anything. But once in a while, I have passionate, obsessive affairs with some things that abruptly break into my consciousness to command all my attention, and then leave soon afterwards just as abruptly.

As a piece of evidence to the above tragic character flaw of mine, I present to you, The Ukulele.

It showed up from Amazon.com last August. Was used as a prop in several pictures. And then… sadly, it along with the instruction book and CD, was never to be seen again… until last month when I traveled with it all the way to San Francisco for a team building event, and then back, without once taking it out of its bag.

On the night of February 10, I jumped on the Linsanity wagon and stayed up the WHOLE night to follow New York Knicks’ win over Lakers. I was gaga over Jeremy Lin, and all the lin-puns that ensued.

Hey, if even Spike Lee caught the fever, who was I to pretend to be cool, right?

That weekend I had a lot of fun with Jeremy Lin Word Generator (of course!), and below is my favorite:

Actually, I’d like all of you to start calling me Linja from now on. In return, I will give you the awesome Dynamic Einstein Caption Generator: Have Einstein write anything you want on the blackboard! Yeah, naturally I had fun for a while with Einstein also.

My obsession this weekend? Quicken. Yup. Turns out that I have not reconciled my bank statement on Quicken since… drum roll please… September 2009, interestingly coincided with the time when I started getting to know the blogging community… You guys are a bad influence, you know that (and are probably proud of it too). I am now up to October 2010. Pray for me.

There is one thing that I should be more obsessed with but haven’t got around to it:

Sleep.

I am going to give it a try right now.

What he said.

6 Replies

I came across this quote again tonight on the Interwebs, and it made me weepy.

I know this sounds extremely pretentious but sometimes late at night I am overcome by a sadness from remembering that Kurt Vonnegut is dead.

I truly miss him.

Many people need desperately to receive this message: ‘I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.

There are plenty of good reasons for fighting, but no good reason ever to hate without reservation, to imagine that God Almighty Himself hates with you, too.

Where is home? I’ve wondered where home is, and I realized, it’s not Mars or someplace like that, it’s Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there’s no way I can get there again.

As Jon Stewart said to him in the 2005 interview, what strikes me, and moves me the most, is the “inherent decency” in Vonnegut’s characters which often feels like a true reflection of Vonnegut as a person.

This post is completely random. Anyway, just thought some of you may appreciate these words from him. If there are other quotes by him that you love, I would really appreciate it if you share them with me in the comment.

xxoo

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c

Kurt Vonnegut

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

p.s. Here is an old post of mine with “15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better Than Anyone Else Ever Has Or Will ” (that I did not write)

Out of My Mind

11 Replies

I went to a grade school talent show on Friday evening that lasted 2.5 hours. Yesterday we had Catholic ~~brainwashing~~ religious class, band festival at our local senior high school, gymnastics meet and team dinner. Today is the Chinese school New Year celebration performance: reporting for rehearsals at 9 am [it’s now 3 am] and we won’t be let out until 4 pm the earliest. My youngest has two book reports/reading projects due on Monday. I may have replied to my boss’ email yesterday and promised I would send out something this weekend…

If I survive this weekend…

The following are the thoughts that went through my head over the first half of the action-packed fun-filled weekend: [And if you are lucky, I may just spare you the second half]

Why am I here at the talent show? I must be the only parent here whose child is not in the show.

Ok. Do they just let anybody in the show? I guess it would have been mean to have some sort of application process and to insist on some criteria.

Look at all these extroverted kids on stage.

Look at all these people confusing ham-ish-ness with talent.

I like Bollywood song and dance and costume. I hope the older white couple behind me don’t die of shock.

Another Bollywood number? Well, Bollywood style dance is the only thing that can fill up this huge stage with 3 tiny kids performing anyway. And this suburb needs some culture.

Pink and Adele sure are popular.

Why do girls think their dance in front of the mirror in the bathroom is going to translate well to the stage? Ok. Am I being a jackhole for even saying this inside my head?

What was that Daniel Radcliff said in his “You CAN do anything” SNL skit? “I tried, and therefore, no one should criticize me.”

Ok. You are probably just being an asshole.

But I am hungry. I did not have dinner yet!

It is very important to know how to do a cartwheel.

When is this going to end?

People probably think my kids are in every act the way I am applauding. Every act gets me closer to the end of this.

Mother. 1.5 hour. This is only the first act?

When you have an awesome set of pipes, you are set for talent shows for life.

What a stupid question in the workbook: “Is Jesus a man or God?” Of course, he’s a man. He’s the Son of God I will give them that. I can rote memorize with the best of them.

Why does the religious textbook insist on Jesus being The Son of God AND God at the same time?

How did I miss this? I thought I’ve read the Bible the first thing for college… Oh… Old Testament. Dude was not even in it.

This is confusing. So all of a sudden I have to tell my son that Jesus IS, somehow, also God?

This does not even make sense. How is he the son and the father at the same time? Do people really believe in this?

How do I say this with a straight face? Am I rolling my eyes too obviously right now? [I guess this is something you just have to believe. You either believe it or you don’t. Leap of faith required]

I did not sign up for this. This feels like lying through my teeth. I refuse to say it.

I am such an idiot! Why did I not know until now?!

Good. The kid figured the “correct” answer out on his own from the textbook. We will just pay for his therapy in the future.

I am going to kill my husband.

[Later, I did express with strong emotions my inability to even verbalize the statement so could he please handle that from now on should this subject resurface again. And he laughed out loud. He just laughed. What’s up with that?! and I should probably explain: I am agnostic and did not grow up in a predominantly Christian country. My husband is one of those twice-a-year Catholics. We are bringing the kids up Catholic. Or as I believe, we are waiting for them to be confirmed to make my mother-in-law happy. I feel like I have signed some important agreement without having read the fine prints first. I feel like an idiot…]

[Listening to Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me] That is Gary Oldman? Gary Oldman is British?

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Cars should come equipped with the ability for me to tweet and update my Facebook status and to write on my blog just by me thinking out loud.

I would be the most prolific blogger ever.

Gary Oldman is such a great character actor. I have never heard him speak as himself!

This is absolutely scary and amazing and awesome.

He scares the bejeezus out of me in The Professional.

Nobody ever cracks their neck in such a scary way. The scariest neck-cracking ever.

Interesting. The percussion section has quite a few tall blonde young male persons. Look in the opposite direction!!!

Yeah. And they are complaining about too many Asian kids in this neighborhood. Look who are the nerds now.

Ha ha.

[Just so we are clear on this: My son is in the band]

[Also, I love nerds and geeks and dorks and whatever labels you throw on cerebrals]

Look. There is this kid that looks like a younger Jesse Eisenberg!

And wow. He even has the same smugness about him [as Eisenberg in The Social Network]

I think I have a crush on Jesse Eisenberg.

And now whenever I think of Marc Zuckerberg, I think of Jesse Eisenberg’s face.

Does that mean I have a crush on Zuckerberg?

Shudder.

I am convinced that I will now think of that kid as Zuckerberg as played by Eisenberg. He can be a totally good person and I will still see him as a smug jerk.

Poor kid. Being judged by me.

Movies are so powerful.

[Watching my oldest lifting himself straight up in the air on p-bars at his gymnastics meet] Whoa. That kid’s got some awesome biceps. When did this happen? Where did those come from?

He can probably snap my neck just like that. Ha ha. Awesome.

My 3 words? Surprisingly not W. T. F.

42 Replies

Chris Brogan is at it again. Chris Brogan, who I really have no idea of, is apparently a very famous person on the Internet and the social media scene. Dude apparently is an inspiration to many, esp. with his annual New Year post “My 3 Words for 20XX”.

In 2011, his 3 words were: Reinvest. Package. Flow.

For 2012, his 3 words are (or will be?): Temple. Untangle. Practice.

Well, Mr. Brogan, I guess I have to thank you for inspiring the head honcho of my company to ask all of us to come up with 3 words to laser-focus our energy/ambition/breathing towards. Unfortunately, the fist thing that jumped into my mind was:

Move. That. Bus.

And then I was stuck. I shook my fists at your well-defined cheek bones, Ty Pennington! The rest of my ideas were more like a plea for help from an insane asylum:

I do everything.

Like your mom.

Kill me now.

Let me out.

Set me free.

HELP ME PLEASE!

So I put out a call for help to some of my ladies and they, like Jimmy John’s, delivered, in more ways than one.

From Elly @ Bugginword:

Evangelize. Inform. Seduce. Innovate. Inspire. Support is for bras, dudes.

Distract. Disarm. Destroy.

[Can we just describe you instead?] Pure, undiluted possibility. <— Seriously, with friends like this, who needs bras?!

How about “Social Media Whore,” Lin? I mean whore in the nicest possible way. Obviously. <— She gets me. She really really gets me.

From Wicked Shawn @ WIcked Girls Think It, Do You?

Wrangler of assholes.

Excite. Conquer. Devour.

Taker of souls.

Giver of (helping) Hand (jobs) “your choice”

From Kelly @ Dufmanno’s Blog:

Fight, win, destroy. [that would be mine] —> Yes, Kelly, nobody would dare to doubt it.

Astound, problem flatten, monarch in training.

Create, confound, excite. [I’m getting a great visual of you with flames shooting out of your eyes but you probably don’t do that at work. Can you pretend you are a prehistoric warrior goddess with a battle axe because that just adds pages of job titles to your resume.] —> Srly, I have the best ladies in the world ever. No bras! Woohoo!

Destroyer of enemies.

Thwarter of evil.

Creator of animal pelts…

From Sue @ Lagunatic:

Instigate. Resonate. Fascinate.

Can you submit “I like boobies” just to see what they say? —> So. Fucking. Tempting. Unfortunately my family’s health insurance depends on my employment…

From Vapid @ A Vapid Blonde:

Divide. Conquer. Unite. (or Untie, if they are hot)

Solver. Slayer. Soother.Rockstar Fire Fucker… (not sure they would like that one)

Personally my mission statement would be Cocktail Maker, ShakHER.

From Amanda @ Brilliant Sulk:

How about a fun, interesting seminar: Noose making 101

From Patty @ Patty Punker:

drop kick this (motherfucker)

my shit rips!

veritable meth lab

old like deniro (or pacino, you pick)

Then Elly (aka Ms. Bugginword) followed up with this email:

Is anyone else craving INXS now? Can you deliver your three words with a boom box, some posterboard, and a giant black marker?

Yes. Yes. Yes! Remember these and the awesome music video?

Hallucinate

Desegregate

Mediate
Alleviate
Try not to hate

With my ladyfriends’ encouragement, support and blind faith, right now, sitting in my official corporate profile is my 3 word mission that says:

Desegregate. Mediate. Alleviate.

Some of the Best Decisions I’ve Made

26 Replies

1. Buying a duvet cover in DEEP RED rather than white like those nice glistening duvet covers in hotels

Around 1 am today, as I was wrapping up my work and was looking forward to hitting my head against that pillow, I heard my 9-year-old boy make a familiar sound. A sound from the past. A sound I have forgotten. A sound that makes every mother’s heart skip a beat while screaming “OMFG Not again?!” inside. I rushed upstairs and confirmed my worst fear.

He looked like this.

The green plants covering his entire upper body, shoulders, back, neck and cheeks would be regurgitated broccoli.

And the green swamp would be my bed.

And like the Swamp Thing, Mr. Monk has left a trail of bits and pieces of his green self as he moved about.

2. Agreeing to settle for the fake, and cheaper, down comforter that The Husband found at an outlet. Can we all cheer for the words “machine wash” on the tag?

Broccoli. Mr. Monk had eaten a whole bowl of broccoli for dinner. And cupcakes with blue frosting. And chicken. I was able to remember the dinner menu while surveying the aftermath. It’s amazing how the frosting retained its neon blue color.

3. Deciding to leave the plastic cover over my bed long after the kids had stopped wetting the bed. Deep down I know it’s because I was too lazy to do anything about it. Laziness pays off sometimes, just remember to pass it off as being laid-back, or zen-ish.

Otherwise there would be no trash bag big enough to toss my memory foam bed into it the way I was forced to toss my memory foam pillow into a trash bag and sealed it with a hazardous material sticker.

4. Buying the Christmas Tree bedsheet set on massive sale from a website that is not Pottery Barn.

I followed my first instinct, crumpled up the bedsheet and tossed it into a trash bag. I am sitting here right now staring at it, trying to decide how awful it would be if I simply throw it away so I do not have to deal with the swamp within.

Since I only paid $20 for the fitted sheet, I now have the liberty to even ponder this. If it were one of those $300 Pottery Barn gilded* bedsheets, I’d be crying right now.

5. (The credit should go to The Husband for this one) Buying new washer and dryer for me even though I strongly dislike receiving appliances as gifts. Don’t try to kill two birds with one vacuum cleaner, just sayin’ man. You would not like to receive an iron, do you? But tonight? Hallelujah for FRONT LOADING, baby!**

ooooo. Spinning... Fascinating... I probably should get my kids outside more...

My 9-year-old. Before he turns into the Swamp Thing.

This is why instead of having my head firmly on my pillow, I am listening to Maroon 5 on Spotify while laundering the duvet cover, bed cover, comforter, towels and pillow cases in the comfort of my own home.

6. Starting my blog many moons ago.

Minor disasters and mishaps in life seem so much more tolerable, even humorous, now that I can see all of them as potential blogging fodders. “Oh, I am picking up regurgitated brocoli at 2 in the morning. How funny!” Standing from outside looking in. Everything seems hilarious as if I were watching a sitcom based on my own life.

So. This is my Monday morning. How has your Monday been so far?

* For the price they are asking for, I simply assume their sheets are gilded.

** Is it just me or does this somehow sound dirty to anybody else?

Tis the Season to be Jolly

16 Replies

Tra la la la la la la la la.

Don we now our gay apparel

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Gay apparel as in holiday parties. Of course. Tis the season of office holiday parties where alliances are formed, enemies are made, and by the end of night, everybody is drunk enough to tell the person whom you absolutely hate when sober, “I love you. Seriously, man. You. are. the. best!”

New York Magazine is kind enough to give us a guide on “How Drunk Can You Get at Your Office Holiday Party” with a handy dandy ~~notebook~~ printable guide that you can tuck into your bra and bring with you. Better remember to check on it though while you are still sober enough to read it in the bathroom stall because any good office holiday party will not have adequate lighting for reading. Duh.

Cog in the machine, while suffers in silence the rest of the 364 days, gets to have the MOST FUN EVER at the office party. “I hate my job so much I don’t even fucking care any more.” That’s the attitude that will get you through the night!

I’ve told you that I get typecast all the time, right? Well, it happened again. A friend of mine Facebook-tagged me:

CHRISTMAS OFFICE PARTY– Use the first 10 people on your friends list. Don’t Cheat:

Running around topless singing Jingle Bells:
Spiked the punch then drank most of it :
Dancing on the desk singing “Can’t Touch this”:
… Has Rolodex making prank calls:
Spinning around in office chair screaming:
Locked in the bathroom hugging the toilet:
Passed out under their desk:
Sitting on copier making Christmas cards:
Throwing fruitcake at people outside:
Playing spin the bottle with cleaning crew:

Guess where my name fell? Yup. The first one. I just don’t think it will ever happen because I cannot sing worth a damn.

Also? I just survived our mega office holiday party last week and I’ll have you know that I kept my clothes on the whole night. And I did not spill any drink. Woohoo! WIN!

The sad truth is I could not have gotten hammered even if I wanted to. The OPEN bar? Was not really open. They only served beer and wine. INCONCEIVABLE. ikr?! So the whole night I kept on going from the 5th floor to the bar at the hotel lobby to get my own drink on. Yes, my dear Internet, I paid for my own premium vodka at an office party with an open bar. I had four with a heavy pour and I woke up with NO hangover and NO headache whatsoever. Win? WIN!

Despite the open bar not being really open, I had a lot of fun at the party talking to random people, including coworkers whom I had never actually spoken to until that night and their wives, my boss, his wife, his boss, his boss’s wife, someone else’s bosses, someone else’s bosses’ wives, etc etc etc. Problem is? I kept on thinking, “The missis must be really really bored. Probably want to poke their eyes out with a fork if they have to face another forced conversation. Quick. Let me say something genuinely funny to amuse them.”

At one point, I offered one of the missis to beat up her husband for her. I guess I am not going to get a promotion, again.

I also told a coworker whom I had not really spoken to before until that night that I love his wife. Huh. I don’t think it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between me and him…

But the BEST part of the night? I finally got a picture taken of me in which I do not have ginormous fat arms that look like they are about the size of my torso.

Finally. A picture of me with NO fat arms. Yeah! This goes to prove that lighting is everything.

This heavily cropped picture somehow focuses on the cruel fact “Where the fuck did my waist go?” Oh hell. I will be happy with the NO fat arm for now. At least I am not making my friend look like she’s naked…

It's that horrifying moment when your friend's "fat arm" makes you look naked...

p.s. Yes. YES! I confess. I wrote this post just so I could post this picture. You are welcome. And if you spill anything on your clothes, take them off, take a nekkid picture, send that and the dry cleaning bill to moi. xxoo

Overload…

13 Replies

Google announced Google Music (its answer to Apple iTune + Amazon Cloud) last week. I immediately started uploading all our music files to the massive google cloud. (It by the way took almost six days to finish). This plus my existing music drive in the Amazon cloud means that when the Apocalypse comes? I am all set on the disaster recovery front for my music files. Way to go, me! Because it is very important to keep a record of Air Supply and Petshop Boys for the resistance army while they fight against the ~~aliens~~ zombies (fine!) for human survival.

Then we received the Amazon Kindle Fire, and all hell broke loose. I have been “forced” to listen to Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Cloud Player, Google Android player and iTune. This is Big Love – Digital Music Edition.

(Yeah yeah yeah. There are more music services such as the old standby Rhapsody, last.fm, and the very intriguing turntable.fm. But I would like to be able to sleep once in a while so thank you very much…)

Hilarity ensued.

I did learn something though: Right before you get on the highway with your kids in the backseat, do NOT start streaming your music and hit Shuffle All IF Cee Lo Green is in your music collection. Just sayin’

At one point I caught myself listening to music from Amazon cloud, checking my Google Music stash on my Android phone and tweeting and Facebooking from iPad.

I felt like Lord Voldemort with my soul being divided into seven parts. Yeah, I need a strong shot of Ritalin.

And a break from trying to organize my digital life.

So I went and got a 10-plus-lbs honeybaked ham today.

Have a wonderful and relaxing Thanksgiving!

These boots are made for…

36 Replies

When it comes to all these flash sale websites, I am a marketer’s dream girl. I think I give people in advertising like Don Draper wet dreams. I click on every email that MyHabit.com and Gilt.com sends me every day.

This undying support for people like Don Draper + the promise of free shipping and free return + the innate laziness that binds me to the idea of Internet shopping + fear of salespeople + firm believer in trying on clothing in the comfort of my own home + lure of the mental image of myself wearing boots in fall + never ever learning from the lesson called “Incongruity Detected” =

Guess who came home to two giant boxes that Mr. Monk can fit in and five pairs of boots?

Yes, I can hear all your screaming from here.

Now don’t get too excited. They are all going back because huh, I found out that my calves are the size and shape of winter melons.

And when I could not pull the zip shut along my left calve, I also discovered that my left leg is much thicker than my right leg, probably due to the Deep Vein Thrombosis (blood clog) that ran along my entire left leg when I was pregnant with Mr. Monk.

As I was sitting on the stairs heaving and grunting, trying to get these damn boots on and the zippers to zip up, I felt like I could understand the sadness and humiliation that Cinderella’s stepsisters must have felt. Ok, maybe just one of them. But still. I am Team Cinderella’s Stepsister now.

I did manage to get one pair of the boots on, with zippers up all the way. And I won’t lie to you, I liked what I saw. I started pulling on various dresses and skirts (because there is no way they are going over my jeans, get it? They are already busting at the seams… ) in my closet while wearing these boots. The dresses and skirts were transformed in a way that was totally unexpected with a pair of boots on. There is just something about boots that make you feel sexy and badass at the same time. They make you want to stride across a room with your head held up high, make you want to sing:

These boots are made for walking… Well, not really. There is no way these boots are made for walking. They are more like medieval torture device. But still, they look G.R.E.A.T on me.

Fortunately, I did not get carried away by self-indulgence because my teenage boy piped up, “Mom. You look weird.”

“What do you mean I look weird?”

“Well, take them off. They are not your style!”

“What IS my style?”

“They are not you!”

“What is my style then? … Jeans and t-shirts?”

“Yes.” He sounded exasperated now. “You look too hip in them.”

Well…

Unfortunately, all fun had to come to an end. It’s time to take them off, mostly because I was suffering stabbing pangs from leg cramp caused by shoving my calve into a sausage casing. More heaving and grunting. Midway through, the boots were stuck. By stuck I mean I had to pry the boots away from my calve by depressing the fat on my calve with my fingers while pushing the shaft down inch by inch. Eventually I had to give up and yelled for Mr. Monk to come and help me. This scene now bore some eerie similarity to the children’s story “The Great Enormous Giant Turnip”… complete with Mr. Monk falling backwards and landing on his tushie.