June 29, 2007

Winzy With Me

I’m hooked on Winzy.  Remember Blingo?  It’s kind of like that.  You search the web with Winzy and receive points that are entries in a drawing for cash and other prizes. 

The thing about it is, I need friends to sign up so we can win together.  And then you get your friends to sign up and we’ll all win.

Whattya say?  Wanna help me out?  It’s only a minor addiction.  It won’t kill you.  Or will it?

Click here, because that button just won’t work.  Or click the big button on the top left sidebar.

June 28, 2007

A Cure for Boredom

I was bored during my lunch break, today.  I wasn’t hungry so I decided to surf the ‘net for fun things.  I found this site.

I decided to see what my blog rating was:

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following word: hell (2x)

It was so much fun, I then checked the ratings of my favorite blogs:

Julie is rated G because she used the words “gun” (1x) and “death” (1x).  Interesting.

Heather is rated G?  For using the words “pain” and “poop”.  This just makes me laugh. 

Liz is rated G because she posted the word “bomb”.

The belly laughs will kill me.

Erin is rated PG because she used the word “tit” once.  Are we talking about the same Queen of Spain?  I’m pretty sure she’s typed “tit” a lot.  Ha ha! 

Cheryl is rated PG for using the word “hell” once.  But I’ve used it twice and that’s acceptable?

Christina is rated PG-13 for typing “death” (2x) and “bastards” once. 

Leslie is PG-13 for typing “crack” and “bitch”.  I can’t stop laughing, Leslie you are hardcore!

Kristen is rated R because she has written the words “fucking” (3x), “hell” (2x) and “steal” (1x).

Karen is rated R.  She used “ass” (3x), “dead” (2x) and “steal” (1x).

Sarah is rated R, too.  She used the words “porn” (3 times!), “hell” and “poop”.

I could go on and on, but I’ll die of laughter.  How does your blog rate?

Two Truths and A Lie

The last three statements have relatively short answers, so I’m bundling it all into one post. 

Statement number eight is true, too.  I play the violin.  Although I haven’t actually played my violin in nearly 12 years, I started violin lessons when I was nine years old.  I really loved playing violin for the first six years, but when I got to high school, I despised the instructor.  Mrs. Something-or-Other.  See?  I hated her so much I purposely forgot her last name.

I had aspirations of becoming a fiddler, not a violinist, in a polka band.  But Mrs. What’s-Her-Face was awful to me.  She told me I didn’t practice as much as the kids who took private lessons and therefore I would probably never be in a first chair seat or get solos in the orchestra.  I promptly dropped out of orchestra class and played the violin at home only once in awhile.

It depresses me to think that I missed 12 years of playing time and I probably don’t remember how to tune my violin.  I’ve been toying with the idea of taking lessons now, as an adult, but my fear is that I’m too old.  Isn’t that crazy?  I should really do it.  I think I’m going to consider it some more.

Congrats to Cheryl, Nadine & Leslie!  You are absolutely right.

Number nine is false.  I was not a bartender in New York City.  I was a bartender at my father’s tavern, Frank & Ernie’s starting at age 16 through age 25.  If we’re going to be technical about it, I actually started my tenure as a beer server at age 14 (while my father was present of course!) which means that I spent nine years working in a tavern.  Through good times and bad times, I’ve seen it all.

When I graduated high school, I had no plans to go to college right away.  I wanted to experience life and move to the big, bad city of New York.  I planned to withdraw every last penny from my savings account, move to NYC, get a bartending job,  and live with my high school friend.  My father put a stop to this by threatening to break all the windows of my car.  (I was going to drive there, BAD idea.)

Dad simply cared about me and when I wouldn’t listen to reason, you know, about money and city life and where I’d park my car and how I’d afford the rent and how I would prevent myself from getting killed — his car wrecking threat worked.

I still wish I’d have done it, though.  In the end my father was right.  I’d have been back home in 3 months, penniless and with a broken spirit.

Congrats to Cheryl and Nadine!  You’re answers were correct!

The last and final statement is true.  I purposely speak in a southern accent when I go out to bars with my friend Amanda.

Amanda is from Texarkana, Arkansas and we met in seventh grade.  We’ve been great friends ever since.  After high school she moved back south to go to college in Texas but after several years returned home.  Her parents live here in Wisconsin.

Amanda still has her southern accent, just like her Momma (who happens to be named Dana, too) and when we go out to bars I end up talkin’ like a suthin wumin and sayin’ things like “y’all” and “fixin’ to” and “sugah” and “sweetay” and “fo’ sho’” and “thas a’raht” (that’s all right).  It’s contageous and everyone gets quite a kick out of how well I speak suthin. 

Cheryl, Leslie, Karen and Nadine, y’all gots numba tin raht.  Great job!

June 27, 2007

No Penelope for Me

The first lie!  Number seven is false.  When I was pregnant I did not think I was having a girl nor did I want to name a daughter Penelope.  At least not entirely.

From a very young age, say 10 years old, I knew that I wanted to be a mother someday.  Hell, if I could have had a child in high school, I very well may have done so.  Life would have been extremely difficult and my parents would have disowned me, but I couldn’t wait to have children.

My mother would scold me and tell me to stop wishing my life away.  She always said that things happen in our lives on their own time and that patience is a virtue.

I’m not a patient person.  I try to be.  I pray for God to grant me patience all the time.  That in itself is irony, don’t you think?

When Doug and I got engaged, I wanted my wedding to hurry up and be over with so we could work on the babymaking.  Needless to say, my awful fertility troubles didn’t end just because I told them to.  We tried everything the doctors suggested, even the fertility drug Clomid, in hopes of having a child.

After 2 unsuccessful years and no pregnancy, I had given up hope.  It was the Atkins diet that eventually got me pregnant and I won’t even tell you why I even tried it (food deprivation made me cranky) but I managed to lose 40 pounds on the diet and was pregnant after three months of cursing bread and pasta.  Coincidence or luck, who knows?  I was finally having a baby and life was perfect again.

In the first three months of pregnancy I was tired, cranky and suffered mild but frequent bouts of morning sickness and I had stranged dreams that I was having a girl.  But I knew deep in my belly,  a baby boy was growing.  I had always wanted a boy first. 

My mother had my youngest brother when I was 12 years old and I was familiar with changing diapers and making bottles and holding baby Frank.  I supposed I just expected that I would have a son.

Even when I had my ultrasounds, and little Dawson wouldn’t cooperate so we could find out his gender, I knew it was a boy.  I only chose boy’s names from the baby books.

It wasn’t until my 7th month that someone asked what name we had chosen if the baby was a girl.  I joked around and said Esther and that person offered the name Penelope.  I just laughed (and rolled my eyes when the person wasn’t looking).

I eventually found out I was having a boy in a last minute ultrasound right after I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia at 32 weeks.  My wish had come true and my little Dawson was born.

Congrats to Karen and Nadine.  You are correct yet again! 

June 25, 2007

The Key to My Heart is in Silver

I’m in love with this bracelet.

I must have it.

Visit Cheeky Jewelry, it’s a wonderful online store selling jewelry.  My favorite!  Plus, my blog friend Rebecca puts her entire heart and soul into her creations!  Head over there, please?

I’m buying that bracelet right now…