husband excuses

I do not understand the joys of parenthood and not claiming to understand.

However, from a non-parent POV, it's hard for me to understand certain aspects of it...mainly the excuses. And please note that when I say "excuses" its not meant to be taken in bad way.

I was discussing this with another childless friend because it seems like people with children leave early/come in late and take more sick days due to the nature of adding another responsibility to their life (not saying staying home with a sick kid is a cake walk either).

This friend and I had a lively discussion about some of the explanations people have for being late, leaving early or being out of work. All legit, of course.

But she brought up a hilarious point; I couldn't use these excuses for myself regarding David, my husband.

And then we started thinking of some....

David was cranky this morning

David flushed my car keys down the toilet

David threw up in his hair this morning

David choked on a grape

David shit his pants as we were getting into the car

David got pink eye from the neighbor boy

David ate a piece of a puzzle and is working on passing it

David hasn't eaten for 2 days because his last poop scared him

David peed in the heating vent

David peed in a closet

David fell down the stairs

David's butt got stuck in the toilet

It's not funny when it's your kid doing these things.

But it is funny when it's my husband.

when did this happen?

I'm OLD.

I always knew I was an 80-year-old trapped in a 30-year-old's body but it's just gotten to be too much.

I dislike staying out until late on 'school nights' as I call them (aka during the work week). I get up at 5:30 every morning, have an hour commute, work 8+ hours and turn around for another hour commute. I love my job. I love that I am using public transportation to get to my job...but the days are long. That's why I am typically in bed by no later than 10pm.

And concerts start LATE.

The doors may be opening at 8pm but the main act won't go on until at least 11pm, which is past my bedtime - especially on a school night. Then I think about the concert goers which are typically college-aged kids just taking their training wheels off of their drinking bike and riding full force down a steep hill crashing into garbage cans, people and animals along the way.

Most concerts I have been to in the past 2 years have featured drunk kids doing stupid things; throwing up into a garbage can next to me, passing out ON the dance floor, getting into fights, making out...just drunky kid things. And here I am, realizing -- this is why we don't see many older people at concerts!

I am one of those older people now and I am ok with that. You might see me at First Ave every once in a while for that amazing show but if I know most of my night will be spent pushing drunk girls in Uggs out of my way, getting felt up by college guys, stepping over puke piles in the bathroom - I might reconsider.

You will probably find me paying way too much money to sit down in a chair, in an auditorium for a concert that ends by 11pm. But I won't have to deal with stepping over drunk passed out girls in the bathroom and because of that, I am ok with staying out past my bedtime.

I love Professional Bull Riding

My dad took me to a rodeo when I was young and I got a purple cowboy hat from the deal. I remember a few bits and pieces; it was dusty and I had to sit in bleachers for a long time (probably amounting to 15 minutes in my child mind).

After that, I never paid much attention to rodeo events, until I became a part of the Duffey family. And now I have something to admit; I love Professional Bull riding.

David and I started watching PBR when we would visit his sister and kids. They watched it religiously every Saturday night. Taylor (probably about age 5 at the time) could recite rider and bull standings at the drop of a hat. We started becoming familiar with the nuances, terms and riders in the sport.

And then I started noticing something; the bull's names are hilarious. Shortly after that, I realized my calling - naming bulls.

some existing bull names

Chicken on a Chain

Bushwacker

Bones

I'm a Gangster

Major Payne

Code Blue

So this made me wonder how they come up with these names? Do you choose a random noun and follow it with something completely unrelated? I gave it a shot and came up with a few.

Shortstack

Lars

Technical Foul

Can I kick it

Def con

When naming bulls, you can't be too witty. Any word play on breaking limbs, balls or obvious ones like "the concussion maker" probably are frowned upon. I might look into seriously doing this...

So, if you are ever over at our house questioning the picture on the fridge of a little kid standing next to a shirtless, tanned cowboy-that's our nephew Taylor with Professional Bull Rider J.B. Mauney - who is ranked 7th in the nation.

excercise

I’m like an obese child when it comes to exercising. I hate it! Don’t make me do it. Please. Just let me sit on the couch and eat my McDonald’s happy meal and watch the abc family channel.

You have to trick me into exercise. Make it SEEM like I am NOT exercising. Riding our bikes to locations to do things. Taking the dogs for walks. That’s not exercising right? Ok good.

I don’t remember being traumatized at all when I was younger by exercise. My mom had the Jane Fonda work out tape which I would beg her to put in all the time. By the time she gave in and pushed play on the VCR, I could make It through no more than 7 minutes of the 1 ½ hour workout…stomping off to some new venture in my leotard which usually led me to my kitchen to bake a pie for my blanket.

Ben Franklin sold ‘get in shape girl’ sets (Wikipedia: Get in Shape Girl are exercise kits designed for young females to have safe and fun exercise at home).

After receiving a good report card, my dad took me to up town Ben Franklin to pick out a toy. Typically, report cards got me a new, shiny Barbie. But not this time. I saw a huge box containing everything I would need to get in shape.

Now getting in shape isn’t going to be cheap (so true now too – am I right?) I was unable to get the set I really wanted due to it doubling the cost of my typical report card treat. Which, I am sorry Dad for throwing a king-sized fit in Ben Franklin.

I really wanted The Ultimate Workout Set that included a vinyl mat for doing floor exercises, swivel handle jump rope, sporty tote bag, colorful terry headband, wristbands and a logbook.

I had to settle on the Workout Plus Set that was ideal for the fashion conscious lady; 2 lightweight dumbbells, terry headband, legwarmers, a tape and a logbook.

I used the kit 2 times. Maybe.

The thought of exercising makes me want to kick things. And lately, I have come to blame this on my blood type (read Eat Right for Your Blood Type).

When explaining to people my disdain for exercising, I always lead in with “well, I have Type A blood and we don’t exercise”.

And to some extent that is true. People who have Type A blood tend to be vegetarians and should engage in calming exercise. (ME).

Know what’s funny? I married a Type O and this guy loves meat and aerobic exercise (can you say my opposite?)

Now, I don’t want you all to think I dislike people who exercise (not the case) but I do dislike hearing about your exercising accomplishments. Sure! I want to hear that you ran your first marathon , 5K or biked your way across the state of Minnesota-that’s admirable and note-worthy.

I don’t want to hear about how many miles you ran, how many sit ups you did or how many hours you spend on the rowing machine. And maybe that’s just me.

One exercise I do thoroughly enjoy is Yoga. (a calming exercise – perfect for my blood type) but instead of blaming my inability to do this on my blood type, I have taken to blaming my inability to do Mountain Pose in my house due to the ceiling height.

the day Ginuwine came into my life

I skipped history class in 10th grade to go buy the new Ginuwine CD.

Consequently got issued detention; the only one in my High School career.

So worth it.

album art

I have a shitty, denim-printed kid's record player that I recently resurrected to introduce my favorite 5-year-old to records.

I pulled out my small box of 45s and held up the record player by its plastic handle.

"Emersen! Want to go upstairs? I have something to show you. It's called a record player!"

Emersen, overjoyed, I am assuming, by the prospect of a new toy, followed me up the winding staircase.

Most of the records I had in my small box did not have sleeves. They were floating around in space - probably getting scratched to high hell (sorry record ppl).

I began to read the titles out loud to her

"Pinocchio, Robin Hood, Peter Pan.."

"PETER PAN! TINKERBELL!!!" she yelled. She, going through her 'princess and fairy stage' was all about fluttery, glittery things.

I took out the record and Emersen asked, "is that a movie?"

"No silly. It's a record! It plays music like a CD or a tape, " I said, waiting for her to ask me what a 'tape' was....

I showed her how to work the record player and explained, just as my father did to me, the importance of being gentle with the needle and the arm of the record player. I even went as far as to say that she shouldn't touch it. Period.

We began to listen to the story of Peter Pan - it not keeping her attention at all. These records, when I was growing up, came with books. Chimes alerted you when to turn the page. Sadly, those did not make the 30 year trek to 2011 like the records did and are lost, probably, in the 1990s...wondering through barbie shit and dress up clothes.

We decided after a few minutes to try another CD. I dug through more and found that I had some music thrown in these story records.

Oddly enough, two singles that any 5-year-old would freak the fuck out over.

The Cars - Shake it up

The Surfaris - Wipe out

I explained the situation to her, "now, we can keep trying to find a story we can sit through or we can have a dance party"

"DANCE PARTY!!" she said.

I put on 'shake it up' and had to remember not to lift my feet off the ground while dancing to avoid shaking the floor and making the record skip.

After dancing for 1 3/4 minutes, we decided we were tired and it was time to move on to something else more exciting.

My total re-introduction to my records was about 6 minutes that first night.

I had been over to people's homes, in recent years, where records were the primary source for music. I thought "oh how indie of you" and "let's see how long this lasts *snort*" but then began to realize it for what it is. Yes, I still believe that some aspect of record listening these days is sort of hipster/indie. I dislike the thought of buying new LPs or current-day LPs to listen to on your record player - sorry...turntable (let's get current).

However, I 100% am supportive of listening/buying records that were originally recorded on wax. There's nostalgia. There's that sound. There's that act of putting a record on and actually listening. Who listens to music anymore? Who has actually SAT DOWN for the specific reason of listening to a record.

I have been thinking about this a lot and one night last week, my husband and I sat down and listened to (on CD mind you) The Love Below by Andre 3000. Yes. Perhaps an odd choice for a listening party but I wanted to hear "She lives in my lap" really bad.

The night was great! We got to hear the lyrics and understand the album's song progression and I began to fall in love again with MUSIC. Sometimes I lose it. Sometimes it' background for me and I let it go through me. I'm getting it back. And everytime I get it back - it's better. And I think I am ready to get into records and the art of it, so to speak.

So...while on our thrifting adventures, we've been keeping our eyes peeled for great albums to own. I was immediately drawn to this amazing album art.

"WHO IS THIS I WANT THIS ART????" I held up the album and stumbled through the title.

"Donovan?" I asked David.

"Oh yeah. Hippie guy - has a flute and a drum" David said.

I added the album to the pile.

When we got home and under more obsessing over the album art, I decided that it must be the top half of Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy album art. It just made sense to me.

so what's the deal with online security questions?

i'm going to go out on a limb here and say that if Jerry Seinfeld was still doing standup (you know...like brick wall//microphone//spotlight standup) that one of the topics he would cover would be online security questions.

what's the deal with online security questions?

they have gotten to be incredibly ridiculous. how can you remember some of this shit? and by security question 4, you have to start answering questions about 'favorites' which, honestly for me, they change often.

favorite food? today i super like popcorn.

the next time i log in, i may really be liking tomato basil soup.

so, are you asking me "what's your favorite food today?" or are you asking "what's your favorite food?"

well, i guess that answer then could be breakfast for dinner.

I know some of these questions are permanent - mostly firsts. First album you bought (Soundgarden - Superunknown). First School (Primary ?? how the fuck to I answer this?)

The list goes on and on ending with some misspellings and quick guesses because when you are signing up for something that requires security questions, most of the time you aren't really focusing on what you are writing...you just want IN.

"yeah yeah yeah...just get to my W2 form come ON!"

Some security questions I have thought of for my, someday, secure site are;

Who was your first kiss?

What color is your favorite pair of underpants?

How often do you wash your sheets?

Creamy or Crunchy?

Favorite period food?

Have you ever peed in a pool?

What was your mom's first job out of high school?

When did your dad smoke pot for the first time?

What album art were you most mesmerized with when you were 6?