I Am Too Old For This...But I Can't Wait To Go Back Next Year

Okay friends, we have a guest poster today.  It is my sister-in-law Jenni.  Jenni is The Party's younger sister and the mother of 5 and 7 of the Survivor Series.  Jenni is a Marketing Manager at an accounting firm and is very creative.  She's been trying her hand at writing lately, so I thought we'd have her over to visit.

During the summer I had her write about something she thought other moms might relate to and here's what she came up with.  I thought she did a great job!  You can tell when you read this that Jenni has really matured (read - gotten older like the rest of us) in that the Jenni from college once went to Cancun for Spring Break and brought tons of peanut butter crackers with her so she would not have to waste any money on food. You can also tell that Jenni is a little more relaxed of a person than The Party.

Bet you didn't know
Dewey Beach had
their own motto.

Every year 8-12 of my closest friends get together for one blow-out weekend in fabulously fun Dewey Beach, Delaware. If you have never been to Dewey Beach, it is an experience, to say the least. Our love for Dewey started the second we graduated from high school. We literally threw our graduation caps up in the air, piled into a car with everything we needed, and headed to the house we had rented for the summer. (Side note – What were our parents thinking letting a bunch of 17-year-olds live at the beach for the summer? I am sure my brother, aka The Party, just loved the fact that his little sister was living at the beach. Not.)

Anyway, somehow we all survived that first summer. This turned into several summers of living there full-time, which then became many summers as weekenders. We have now settled into what we are now...a bunch of married/engaged ladies who have left their significant others, kids, 4-legged kids, and responsibilities home for our one weekend a year of Cosmo reading on the beach, giggling, and just pure fun in Dewey.

One of the funny things about being almost 40 and going to Dewey is that every summer I have to prepare myself before-hand by hydrating, getting plenty of sleep, and crash dieting. My biggest preparation is mentally repeating over and over again that I WILL stay out past 10pm.   I WILL stay out past 10pm.

Something new that we have been doing to prepare for our trip is turning on Top Hits on Pandora so we will actually know the songs they play while we are on the dance floor.

So, since Girls Weekend (GW2012) is right around the corner, I thought I would brush off a list I prepared two years ago after coming home from the beach and freshen it up a little

The Top 10 Reasons I Feel Old in Dewey

Jenni's friend Jenna is very
organized and crafty and
probably makes everyone
matching stuff like this so that
they will all look cute on the beach.

10. You are told that “oldies" music is anything from the ‘90’s and under. (Note the Pandora comment)

9. When talking to a random 24-year-old kid on Rt 1, you tell him you have a cute babysitter (rather than friend) you can hook him up with.

8. You get called Ma’am by the waitress on Suicide Sunday at the Starboard. (WHAT?!?!?)

7. You are one of the first people on the beach after a “wild” night of partying with homemade PB&Js because, of course, you come to the beach prepared with food (btw, a Special K Strawberry Crisp bar, ginger ale and Advil are the perfect hangover cure. This is a proven fact).

6. The conversations with your girlfriends have changed to cooking, kids, and how tired you are all of the time.

5. You ask the girl next to you on the dance floor if she knows how to do the Percolator (one of your all time favorite songs) and she says it was “before her time!”

4. You are proud of yourself for staying out until 10pm. (Ha...this said 11PM two years ago.)

3. You start talking about how many years you have had “girls' weekend at the beach” and realize it is your 14th year, then you add on the 7 years you lived at the beach or have been a “weekender” at the beach.  You then remember that the 20th high school reunions have all already passed.

2. You party like rock stars for one weekend and say, “I don’t know how we used to do that EVERY weekend.”

1. You learn from a different 24 year old that you are called a Fossil.   That’s right, not a Cougar, but a Fossil because you are a bunch of ‘old’ women who are out but who are all happily married/committed so not looking to hook up.

I limited my reasons to ten, but the list really could go on. I am sure after this year’s trip we will add a few items to the list.  Every year we end the weekend saying ‘we are way too old for this’ but miraculously, after a few days, we are all texting each other that we can’t wait until next year’s girls weekend.  I mean, really, who wouldn’t love a great time at the beach, no kids hanging off of you saying how bored they are, and not having to cook or clean.

So ladies.....are you ready for GW2012????  I sure am!   Right after I make sure the laundry is done, the hubby knows where the kids need to be while I am gone, there is plenty of food in the fridge (even though they will eat pizza all weekend), and the house is clean.   Oh, and I will stay out past 10pm, I WILL!!!

**Update**

Just FYI, on my 2012
Girls' Weekend we
stayed in one night and
watched the Olympics, but
we're still cool.
No, really,we are.

Most of us, not all, made it out past 10pm every night. I am happy to say that I made it out past midnight both nights!

3 out of 9 of us (not me) ran a 5k race on Saturday morning. You know you are getting old if you can control your drinking enough that you can run a 5k the next morning.

This year instead of being called Fossils, some guy screamed at us on the dance floor ”GO MOMS!!!!”   Like he was complimenting us or something for having decent dance moves AND being moms.   WHATEVER!

Batcrap Crazy

Good Advice

As you may or may not know there is an upcoming presidential election.  It's been in the news here and there, so I figure you're pretty much up on the fact that no matter which candidate you support, people are just flat out bonkers and close-minded.  No matter how each debate has gone, each side thinks their guy won.

Since the political craziness is being covered by everyone on the planet, I thought I'd share with you some regular, non-political batcrap craziness.  As I think you know, there is never a shortage of that.  I've been collecting the best stuff to share with you.  It's almost hard to know where to start.

Hard, but not impossible.  Let's ease into it.  A few weeks ago an article caught my eye - a woman may have  married her father.  She wasn't sure until after he died.  She had known there were rumors to the effect.  When you read the article, she seems like a relatively normal, lovely person, but how do you not freak out and look into that at the first rumor?  Her husband/father was only 15 years older than she was and was purported to have known she was his daughter, soooo...whistle, smack and kick in the junk goes to him for being disgusting and awful.

Get it?  Bahahahahaha!

In other disturbing parenting news, Joran Van Der Sloot, "alleged" killer of Natalie Holloway has gotten his girlfriend pregnant.  While he was in prison.  Apparently, this happened during an unsupervised visit.  He is serving a 28 year sentence in Peru for killing a Peruvian woman.  How is it he gets an unsupervised sex visit from another Peruvian woman?  Who allows this stuff?  Oh, and funny thing, one of the ways he could avoid extradition to the United States would be if he was to father a Peruvian child.  I bet he did not plan that at all.

Moving further along into the world of ridiculous...a 32 year old man threw up, collapsed, and died.  After he won a roach-eating contest.  That is so disgusting, I can't even put it into words.  I think I am more grossed out by this than the guy who married his daughter.  While I don't wish for anyone to die doing stupid crap, how bad can I feel for someone who purposely ate roaches and other bugs in order to win a python?  Breathe easy though, the python is now the property of Bug-Eater's estate, so the whole thing wasn't for naught.

How does Cee Lo not have
people to make sure there
are no pictures like this one?

The last two things are more silly than crazy, but, you know me, I'm a sharer.  I don't think we can call it batcrap  silly though, because that just sounds dumb.  Dumb is what Cee Lo Green looks like though in this The Voice promo picture.  He almost looks like he's the poster child for a charity.  Once you hear him talk on the show, you will see that he might be the poster child for not smoking too much pot before you have to speak on TV.  Not sure if he actually smokes, but I'm hoping that's what the problem is.  If it's not, I'm going to be a little sad for him.  He already looks likes a brown Oompa Loompa guy and when he talks that doesn't help anything.

Filed under "People With Too Much Free Time," there was a study I just heard about on the radio.  This study was the first (and God willing, the last) of it's kind. Over 120,000 texts were looked at.  It was discovered that...wait for it...women use emoticons more often than men do.  Are we actually supposed to be surprised that a woman would put a smiley face on her message more often than a man would?  Is that really shocking?  Oh yeah, and guess what the point of gathering that information was.  Wait, there was supposed to be a point?  You mean no one could possibly need that information for any reason?  Remind me again why we are all not getting rich from doing stuff like this?  There is clearly a market for it.

Kyle's Not Really From The Jokers

By now, I assume most of you know that I am also writing for Babble Pets.  If you don't know, then I haven't been doing as good a job as I thought of badgering you to go read what I write on Babble Pets (that's www.blogs.babble.com).  It is an interesting job in that I don't actually have any pets.  Shhhhhh.  Don't tell anyone.  The editors said I didn't really need pets, just the ability to write about them and find cute pictures.  Check and check.

You would think then that everything would be rolling along smoothly.  Well, you'd be mistaken.  There have been no outright disasters, but it's not so pretty in the DTC world of pet reporting.  To start with, Babble uses a different program and format than I am used to.  I have barely mastered the program over here, I think you know that there is all sorts of synapse misfiring going on in my head as I try to work it all out.

There were no pictures of
someone crying while
using html codes.  I can't
imagine why not.

At one point, I e-mailed Alie (editor/supervisor) to ask her about inserting links into a photo gallery (see, already this sounds complicated) and she tells me to use the html code.  Awesome.  And that code would be?  I can't even pretend I know, I have to suck it up and admit I am clueless.  After several e-mails, the problem was solved.  And then I needed a drink.  But, if any of y'all need your photo galleries linked to anything now, I'm your girl.

Aside from some other html-related unhappiness, I feel like I have been getting the hang of things and have amused myself with some of my posts (hopefully some other people have been amused as well).  Don't be too happy for me yet.  This is where Kyle comes in (you know, from the title).  Kyle sends out a daily report of the traffic to each person's posts.  There are five of us.  I am at the bottom.  Every day.

Last week (week 2 for me), I e-mail Kyle and ask him to clarify a couple things about the report.  At the end of my e-mail I say to Kyle that I notice my numbers are way lower than everyone else's and would my baking him something help that.  Obviously, I'm joking (like I have to time to be baking when I have html codes to learn).  Kyle. Flippin'. Told. On. Me!!  He tried to be subtle, but he told!

I won't forget this Kyle!

He answered my e-mail, copying Alie (you know, my supervisor), saying he was sure that Alie could give me some suggestions on how to get my numbers up. WHISTLE!!  Ever the smartass, I could not resist sending back a "reply all" e-mail which said "So then, I guess baking for you won't help."  No answer from either Kyle or Alie.   I guess Kyle is more of a numbers person and less of a people person.

I know there is something probably wrong with me, but knowing that my joking made Kyle all nervous and jumpy makes me want to e-mail him every day.  I just feel like I would be doing him a big favor to help him get in touch with his funny side.  That is assuming that statistic and math guys have a funny side.

And, just a little F.Y.I. for Y.O.U., I checked out pictures of the Babble staff.  I believe the average age is about 14.  Alie is super cute, and I would love to look all perky and happy like her, but her picture mostly confirmed for me that I am probably older than her actual mother.  That means that I was told on BY someone young enough to be my child TO someone young enough to be my child.  It's like a sign of the apocalypse or some sort of Lord of the Flies thing where the children are running the world.

I would write more, but I have to go back to reporting on the animal kingdom.  If you feel like giving Kyle something to do, you can go check out what I've been doing over at Babble.  Here are my two posts I like best:
13 Reasons People Are Better Than Cats
Pigs: The Piranhas Of The Farm World

And This Is Why I Don't Have A Dog

As I am sure most of you know by now, I am a ray of sunshine.  If you don't believe me, just click on the "Get to know DTC" tab above and you will see it says it right there.  I wouldn't make this kind of thing up.  Anyway, my sunshiny-ness was put to the test today.  Early in the morning.  Before I had any coffee or breakfast.

Even though I too
look this sophisticated
in my pjs, I thought
it best to change.

SB and Boy and The Party had all left the house by about 7am.  As I am gathering my thoughts and deciding what my day will look like, the phone rings.  It is my friend Amy's son (on behalf of himself and his twin brother).  These boys are seniors in HS, like Boy, and are very good friends of his. These are great kids and I am always happy to do anything for them.  Except I'd be happier later in the day.

Twin 1 says that Amy is already gone and that he and Twin 2 overslept and missed the bus and would I be able to drive them to school.  This is totally not like these guys and I know they must be feeling panicked.  I tell them not to worry and that I will be right there.  Because I don't want to horrify anyone who is not my own child, I put on real pants instead of picking them up in my pajamas (see, sunshine).

As we are driving to school I have the sinking sensation that there is no way the dogs got taken out for a walk.  I could say nothing, because it's not really my problem, but that doesn't seem right.  I am supposed to be the adult.  So, I say "What about the dogs?  Did the dogs go out?"  The boys look at each other and I can tell the panic might be back.  "No.  They didn't." one of them says.  Now I know there is no way either of them is going to ask me, but we all know the dogs need to go out.

I say I will take the dogs out.  People seem relieved.  I ask for the garage code and where the leashes are.  I ask are the dogs going to be freaked out when I come in to walk them since they don't really know me and no one else will be in the house.  Twin 1 says "Uh, maybe.  A little."  I rephrase, "Will either dog be trying to chew my arm off?"  "Oh!  No!  Definitely not."  Okay, we're making progress.  

I get in the house and both dogs come running towards me and let me pet them.  These are kind of small dogs, so the fact that they are jumping around isn't too alarming.  It's not like they can hurt me or reach anything higher than my shin.  (I had to ask, but they are a cockapoo and a yorkie poo)  The bigger dog runs right for the front door and lets me get his leash on.  The smaller dog, the one that I could just put in my pocket, stands back and keeps moving away.  Are you kidding me?!?!

This is what a
successful, happy dog
walker looks like.

While I am trying to catch Pocket, the good dog is really trying to go outside.  I don't want an accident, so I open the door and tie Good Dog to the chair outside.  I go back in to try to wrangle Pocket.  I go left, Pocket goes right.  Pocket then runs out the door, sans leash.  I am forced to walk Good Dog only a little ways on either side of the house because I have to keep Pocket in my sights.  Thankfully, Good Dog does not poop, because there is no chance I am picking up poop.  None.  You may as well call the plastic bags that people use "poop condoms."  You aren't actually touching the poop, but it's gonna feel pretty much the same.  No thank you.  Pass.

I get Pocket to follow us back to the front door and I attempt to enter the house.  I say attempt, because you know I freakin' locked us out.  There is actually a key (my friend Amy is so smart) attached to the leash, but I can't seem to get it to work (Really??? Are you kidding me?).  Luckily, I got us all in through the garage.

Good Dog on left.  Pocket on
right.  Pocket seems cute enough,
but he's a little bit evil.

Did I mention it was cold this morning?  Besides the allergy situation at my house, this is one of the reasons I don't have a dog.  I don't want to go outside in yucky, rainy or cold weather and walk a dog.  And, you can't really get a dog to cooperate the way you might a child.  There was no point at me yelling at or threatening Pocket.  All I could do was use my "nice" voice and try to coax him.  Another thing, it's hard to catch a dog. Kids are way easier to catch, at least until they're about 10 or so.

So, based on my benevolence this morning, I am pretty sure I have some karma points I can bank for a later date.  I'm sure I won't need them, but it never hurts to be safe.


***To see what's going on in the pig world, you can read my newest post at Babble Pets.***
          http://blogs.babble.com/pets/2012/10/07/pigs-the-piranhas-of-the-farm-world/

Do You Really Want a Beer That Badly?

Don't worry, I won't let
the money change me.

Before we talk about beer, I just want to share some exciting news with you.  You know how a couple weeks ago I was talking about how I needed a way to make more money.  Or any.  Well, I found it!  As of October 1st, I will be doing some writing for Babble Pets.  If you want to help me not embarrass myself in front of my new friends (you know, when I only have like 3 hits and one is my mother), you can click here and here and go check out my newest posts.  Thanks!  Oh, and I figured out that if I use this money to put towards my beach house, it will only take 1000 months, give or take a few to fully pay for the house.  Not too shabby!

Moving on to beer.  I believe the need for new, delicious and cutting edge ways to make beer has veered dangerously into the arena of "freaks with too much free time who maybe smoked too much pot."  Yes, that is a harsh statement, but wait until you hear why I feel so strongly.  Rogue Ales is a brewery and Pub that has created...wait for it...beer using yeast from the brewmaster's beard!!!  That is correct, the company used brewmaster John Maier's beard hair (which PS has not been shaved since 1978 and I'm not kidding) to come up with a new yeast.

You would be essentially
running your tongue through
his beard and eating what you
 find.  But don't be grossed out.

The company had been unsuccessfully trying to develop new strains of yeast with little success.  Then they decided they would try to get creative with finding a new yeast to use.  Not sure how the next jump was into Maier's beard.  Don't worry though, Maier says it's not really gross because yeast is everywhere.  Here are the two things I take away from that statement.  One, I know where you can find yeast on people's bodies and none of those places seem like good places from which to create beverages.  Further, when the yeast gets out of hand, you need medication, so despite what Maier says, I'm going to have to be skeeved by beard beer.  Two, I then am wondering where exactly do we get any of the yeast that we use to bake or brew beer or whatever else you use yeast for?  You know what?  Don't tell me.  Just don't use any from someone's 35 year old beard.

This is the response I would
have expected from the prez
of Rogue Ales. 

Now, I did try to see if I could be open-minded about the beard beer.  I likened it to the new trend of people making cheese out of breast milk.  That didn't help me because I realized I don't feel that good about that either.  I am not sure why, because milk is milk, but it's just not working for me.  I will say though, I'd eat breast milk cheese before I would drink beard beer.  At least human milk is something that is supposed to be consumed.  Hair isn't.

My cousin Ronna is the president of The Beer Ladies of Westchester (PA).  Obviously, since she is a beer aficionado, we need to ask her what's up.  I will let you know what she says if she doesn't respond in the comments.  Questions for Ronna:  Should any sane person consider drinking beard beer?  Should the beer gods smite these Rogue Ale people for besmirching beer's good name?