Kim Kardashian Hates Food

Yes, I've had a little too much time on my hands. That never leads to anything good. While surfing the net in search of breaking news, I got the latest info on Kim Kardashian's struggles. Poor Kim!

Kim Kardashian reportedly said Indian food is "disgusting." Now everyone who loves Indian food hates her. In an effort to salvage her flawless reputation she further explained her comments by saying:

"In NO way was [my comment] intended as an insult to the Indian people or their culture. This is just my own personal taste. There are a lot of foods I don’t like . . . I hate cilantro and peppers, and there are definitely some Armenian foods that I personally find disgusting, but that doesn’t reflect my opinions on other Armenian people or my culture."

Frankly, her agent, publicist, mom, sisters, Kayne, should never let her try to further explain herself again. This is not her strong suit.

Now I'm even more annoyed by her than ever! What kind of person hates cilantro? I'm no Mayan, but I'm predicting an uprising of cilantro farmers and cilantro lovers. This could lead to the end of times.

Let's also take a moment and state the obvious. When I was surfing nonsense yesterday and typed "breaking news" into my search engine, I wasn't expecting to get the latest update on Ms. Food-Hater Kardashian. How is this breaking news?

One look at her figure, and any weight watching person can tell Kim Kardashian hates a variety of foods. I'm going out on a limb here, but I imagine she eats more of her words than any other thing on this planet. This is not breaking news.

In the end, I'm mostly annoyed because pepper loathing Kim has created in me an absolute unparalleled desire to eat my weight in Tandoori chicken with warm naan.

Stick a fork in me. I'm done.

River Truths

This past weekend my family got an offer we could not refuse.
We were invited by friends to spend the day frolicking on the Ohio River.

To protect my friends' identities I am going to choose totally fictitious names for them. I've completely made these names up, and my friends can try to figure out who is who because I am never going to tell.

Kristen Wiig, Amy Poehler, Claire Dunphy and I had a fabulous afternoon. I even met a new friend who I'll call Mia Rudolph.

There are some universal truths about river life. Although I am no expert, and I absolutely MUST research this more, I believe I have unearthed some of these truths.

Again, these are river truths. If you've never spent the day out on the river, you'll just need to take my word for it:

• Life on the river is in a unique time zone. Time stands still, and then suddenly an entire afternoon disappears in a blink. Strange, right?

• Everyone pees in the river.  Everyone.  Some people are just more brazen than others.                 Kristine Wiig will squat in knee deep water and talk with you while obviously peeing in the river.

• There are really smart fish in the river. The fish stay away from those who are fishing but stay close to those who are floating. You can't always see them, but they are there. Just ask Claire.

• Other people enjoy spending time with your children and you enjoy spending time with other people's children. I considered swimming off with Amy Poehler's baby. That baby is just too darn cute!

• Tubing should be an Olympic sport. My friends and I would definitely bring home the gold! The gold goes to Claire, Mia, Kristen and me for our flawless tubing performance.

• Tubing will leave rug-burns on your elbows and any other bodily surface that is repeatedly thrown and tossed around on a tube. Gold medals come at a price!

• Naming your raft is not required but recommended. Our raft, in the words of Kristen Wiig, is the Moms I'd Like to Friend (MILF) raft.

• Children can eat whatever they want.  In other words, 6 handfuls of chips + 2 pieces of cake = dinner.

• Grown-ups can eat whatever they want.  In other words, beer + beer + beer = dinner

• A bratwurst hot tub is a gourmet delicacy. Amy Poehler showed her cooking brilliancy with that one!

• The river life promotes sharing. Mia, Kristen, and Amy seemingly share everything like boats, cottages, campers, food and beverages. They are just so generous they share it all (except husbands, of course. One of those is enough for any woman. Who needs 2?) This makes me think I may just need to move my van down by the river. I could hang with my friends while living out of my van. Do you think they would notice?

All of this to say, the river life rocks!
What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon!

I AM HOT

I am hot.
Not in a supermodel sort of way.
I am hot in a fry an egg on my face sort of way.

Yes, of course our air conditioner breaks on the hottest weekend. Of course.

Here is what I now know about heat. Heat makes you do stupid things.

I was so hot I went grocery shopping for 2.5 hours. I hung out in the meat section just to be cool.

Ahhhh, the relief a large rack of frozen ribs can bring a women who is nearing heat stroke hotness. Yes, I got some strange looks while clutching the frozen rack of ribs to my breast, but screw 'em. It is H.O.T., people!

I also got similar "What the heck is wrong with that lady" glances in the dairy section when I nearly crawled into the refrigerator unit with the milk cartons. Fortunately, no one was around when I walked the length of the frozen food section with a package of frozen peas balanced on the back of my neck.

Don't judge me when I am hot and doing everything in my power not to return to my own home.

Upon arriving home, my husband proudly announced it was only 88 degrees inside our house. I believe I responded with words that would be bleeped out if this blog were televised.

Did I mention I'm hot?

When I'm hot, people are really annoying. Especially children who are seemingly oblivious to the heat. They actually want to do things. They want and expect me to do things that require moving. Don't they know how hot it is? Moving only makes it worse. Moving it bad.

The only cure for heat is to sit nearly naked in cold water while drinking plenty of fluids. And by "fluids" I mean alcohol. Duh. I'm fairly certain my sweat glands are on overdrive even while submerged in cold water.

The only plus I see in any of this is I am fairly certain I've lost a few pounds.
Sure, it's 2-3 pounds of sweat, but I'll take it. Yes, I'll take it.

Now I've got to go. I am headed back to the grocery store to spend some quality time with that rack of ribs.

Teacher Envy

This is the time of year when I get a bad case of Teacher Envy.
The symptoms range from mild discomfort to full-blown jealousy.

Teachers are wrapping up the last few days of school and looking forward to the excitement of summer vacation. Their excitement is obviously infectious. Both of my children have been coming home from school since April with announcements like, "Just 45 more days of school!"

This week the countdown has been torturous.
"Just 1 more day of school!" my son shouts as he runs wild through the house dropping his book-bag, shoes, socks, and random papers. He creates a path that is easy to track, and I find him in his room.

"Ever hear about something called summer school?" I ask.
He scowls at me because he does not find me funny.

Schools out, schools out, teacher let the fools out. The sing song expression dances through my brain and I refrain (miraculously) from blurting it out.

If I suffer so from Teacher Envy, why didn't I just study to be a teacher? After all, I come from a long line of teachers. My grandmother was a teacher and my mother is a retired first grade teacher.

The answer is quite simple.
I didn't become a teacher because I have no patience, and the filter on my mouth is broken.

Every time I help my children with homework, my patience is called into question.
Ten minutes into the homework battle, and someone is crying and threatening to leave. By "someone" I mean me. The child provides little comfort by saying critical things like, "That's not how my teacher does it!"

Ugh.

Teachers must also have a remarkably good mouth filter. OR they are just nice people.

While trying to teach my children anything (how to tie shoes, ride a bike, bake, set the table, etc.), I realize I cannot possibly say everything that pops into my brain. I need to NOT say what I am thinking. (Incidentally, this is also necessary for happy marriages, too, but that's a different blog post.)

For instance, the following are thoughts I've managed to suppress while attempting to teach my children:

"I could really use a drink. Let's stop while I polish off this bottle of wine."
"How would you like to do 5th grade twice?"
"Well, brains aren't everything."
"Really!? You are not the sharpest tool in this shed."
"Why am I saving for your college education?"
"I would rather poke both my eyes out with this dull pencil than homeschool you."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Those studies are right! Your frontal lobe really isn't fully developed."

Yes, I would make a lousy teacher.

I suppose this just fuels my bad case of Teacher Envy.
The only cure for Teacher Envy seems to be the start of a new school year and the thought of spending day after day with other people's children.

My Teacher Envy will end...Just 92 days to go!

Fifty Shades of...You've Got to Be Kidding Me

It's fiction, obviously.

Fifty Shades of Grey reminds me of Christmas.
EEK! I think that might be blasphemy.

My inner goddess just cringed and made a run for the hills.

Let me re-phrase:

Fifty Shades of Grey reminds me of when I have to wrap large amounts of presents.
There are only so many ways to wrap a present.

1.  You can wrap a present on a table or other hard service.
2.  Presents can easily be wrapped on the floor assuming you can get down on the floor and back up again without hurting yourself.
3.  You can wrap a present any time of the day or night.
4.  You can wrap a present in total silence or while listening to loud chamber music.
5.  You can bag your present. You know, place the present in a nice gift bag.
6.  You can wrap a present with a pair of scissors in one hand and cable ties tape in the other.
7.  You can tie the present up with rope ribbons and put a blindfold bow on top
8.  You can perhaps wrap a present in or around a bathtub, but it can get awfully messy if you go that direction.

In the end, you are left with a wrapped present.
Sure, sometimes the present feels looks better and more satisfying than others, but it is still a wrapped present.

If you've not yet read Fifty Shades of Grey by E L James, you need to do so.
Not because it's a literary masterpiece but because your inner goddess will thank you for it.

Plus, it's better than spending an evening wrapping presents.

Fleeting Thoughts of a Father to Be

I recently joined the Ohio Blogging Association which connects me with other bloggers from across Ohio.  The Ohio Blogging Association is hosting a "Blog Swap," and I decided to be part of it. For a complete listing of Ohio bloggers participating in today's Blog Swap check out Poise in Parma.

My Blog Swap partner is Kristian who writes Ohio Festivals and Adventures of a Trapped 300 Pound Man.  As a festival food junkie, I enjoy both blogs. I encourage you to check out both of those blogs.  My blog about Athens, Ohio will be posted on one of them today.  

On a related note, Kristian has been remarkably kind in showing me how this Blog Swap thing works as I am apparently blog-impaired.  Although a picture is included on this blog, I still have no earthly idea how he made that possible.  No clue.  None. 

Here is the blog Kristian wrote for the Blog Swap...Enjoy!

This October (maybe early November), my life is going to change forever.

Here’s the proof.

This is happening during my 39^th year of age (I'll be 39 in December)...

...25 good years after my body began producing egg-fertilizing sperm (give or take a year).

So,  if had been with one egg-producing partner since then and been able to  fertilize at least one of these eggs each year, I would be a father of  25 children (+/- for multiples or unfortunate circumstances).

Here  is a cluster of names I may have chosen from, just to give you an idea  of the multitude of offspring I may have flocked around me this coming  Father's Day if I hadn't invested so much time in the single lifestyle,  traveling and condoms:

JoshuaNoahElijahMassimoJacobAlessandra  MariaGiadaClarissaEmiliaAmelieHopeGraceMaxBrandon  AlexanderOliviaMiaJacksonHarperLandonLucasClaraGabrielWyatt  JudePiperXavierCooperOrangejelloHazelArchie

In fact, if I did start way back when, I would easily be a grandfather by now.  In a few years, possibly even a great-grandfather.

Oh Jesus!

Some  of these thoughts keep coming in because, when monumental events are  knocking from the inside of my wife’s belly, it’s hard for me not to  think of...

1.)    ...what could have happened in my life (the past what-ifs)

2.)    ...what can happen years from now (the distant future)

For  instance, in my younger days (#1), I think of all the sperm banks I  could have gone to for extra arcade money, only to later find an army of  my offspring spread all across the United States and possibly the  world.  We could have set a date  to meet at some convention center in Omaha and then draw up a plan to  create the biggest (and only) meatball burrito franchise this world has  ever seen!

And, in the future (#2), I realize that I’ll be getting my AARP card shortly after this kid turns 11? Eleven! On the plus side, this means I may get up to $40 off my Disney World admission.  On  the bad side, I may not be physically capable to ride Splash Mountain.   What if my kid hates me because the only attraction I can bear in my  weakened condition is the Hall of Presidents?

Ugh, I don’t my kid to hate me for dragging him/her into the Hall of Presidents!

Of course, these are all fleeting worries and thoughts.

Good thing I have a loving supportive wife to share this worthwhile adventure.

And, if I asked her nicely, she may even want to split a meatball burrito!

Thank You, Mr. President!

What are the odds?

My tween decided to join me this evening as I watched The Nightly News with Brian Williams, who (by the the way) looks less orange to me than he once did.

Anyway, Brian (I'm on a first name basis with all of my favorite news reporters) showed a clip from The View in which the President of the United States shared that his oldest daughter did not get a cell phone until she was 13, AND she is only allowed to use it on weekends.

Upon hearing the news, my tween's eyes bulged out of their sockets and may have even produced actual tears.  This was clearly breaking news in her world.    J.P. Morgan who?

As my daughter's eyes grew to 4x their actual size, my spirit soared.
Woohoo! Score one to moms everywhere who have tweens desperate for cell phones!

Low and behold, turns out not every tween has a cell phone. My tween was actually misinformed about this.

She recently asked me (for the 60th billionth time) for a phone, I asked her why she needed one.

"So I can text my friends (duh)!"
The "duh" was unspoken, but I know it was there. I just know it.

I looked at my little girl who is growing up too fast and said, "Until you answer that correctly, you are not getting a phone."

Just to be clear, I feel the correct answer is something along the lines of, "So I can call you when I need help and tell you how much I love and appreciate you." I can dream, right?

I just think it's lovely the President is such a stick in the mud, too. I'm happy to be in such good company.

Thank you, Mr. President.
Now do you mind talking to my son publicly about the importance of flushing toilets?