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Archives from 2002-2006

Dude, that is totally me. Except I have more tacky, grown-out brown roots in my hair. And my waist is maybe…not quite so…okay, add a few inches to the waistline. And Riley’s carseat is way more humongous than that weirdly proportioned thing.

But the cheap Old Navy-type shirt, the jeans, the flipflops, the look of vague cluelessness? EERIE.

Go ahead, make your own.

(Link stolen from found over at Zoot’s.)

June 22, 2006

My cell phone, which I got shortly after September 11th in the fear that I would be trapped in a building/plane somewhere and be minutes from my own death with no means for which to communicate my last thoughts to JB (“Press play to hear your first message.” “OH SHIT!” “Press 7 to delete this message.”), has a battery that over time has dwindled down to five or so minutes of life after each recharge. The only way it really works is if it is plugged into the car charger, which is useful for calls made while driving, but since I can barely chew gum and walk a straight line without tumbling headfirst down a manhole, I don’t like using my phone in the car. I’m convinced the moment I turn my gaze to the keypad, a school bus full of blind children will hit the brakes in front of me and in my distraction I’ll plow into them at 65 MPH and totally cripple all their helper dogs.

I don’t like using cell phones at all, really. Well, to be honest, it’s more that I don’t like you using your cell phone. Because clearly you are far more important and popular than I am, and that makes me feel insignificant and lame, and also I don’t want to hear how Bob needs to file those TPS reports or honey can you pick up some coffee creamer or oh my GOD did you SEE Trish’s OUTFIT.

I especially hate those Bluetooth wireless thingies that hook over one ear, so from most angles it looks like someone is just shouting into the air in front of them. Project manager or delusional transient? Choose Your Own Adventure!

Anyway, I decided I needed to update my phone because I wanted a reliable means of communication in case of a Riley-related emergency. JB showed me a bunch of options from the Cingular website and I picked one that looked fairly simple, like even a cellular Luddite like me could use it.

So now I own a black Motorola RAZR. It is very sleek and sexy and apparently does all kinds of crazy things like take photos and video and instant message and maybe also prepare a nice butternut squash soup; I don’t actually know for sure because right now all it does is display “UNREGISTERED SIM”.

Eventually I suppose I’ll get the phone figured out, or maybe I’ll just use it to throw at people when I want to get their attention instead of calling them (“Hey! Get some fucking coffee creamer!”).

Let’s be honest, though: what I’ll really use this thing for is taking even MORE pictures of Riley. Lord knows I wouldn’t want a single solitary moment of his life to pass by without photographic evidence.

HEY DID SOMEBODY SAY BABY PHOTOS?

There is a major monkeys-grooming-each-other vibe going on here. That’s all I’m saying.

Ha! Check out those eyebrows. Can’t you just see him in a couple years looking at me all like “God, Mom, you can’t even use a cellphone? LAME.”

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