Feb
20
Do any of you happen to remember that old Ren & Stimpy episode where they run out of money and they’re starving so they masquerade as babies? (“Cute nothin’! They’re deadbeats! Babies have the world’s easiest lives. People feed them, they clothe them, they carry them everywhere they go and they expect nothing in return! In fact, I hear they don’t even have to WIPE themselves!”) Every time I see Dylan walking, I think of how he looks exactly like Ren & Stimpy did when they were pretending to be babies and walking in these great staggering, half-falling steps, with their arms outstretched and lines of drool coming from their mouths.
There must be something going on with the early stages of walking where it’s like putting on mascara: impossible to do with your mouth shut. He accompanies his wobbly steps with great happy screeches and a lot of furious panting, and oh, it is just so funny and awesome and joyous. (It provides a very nice break from some of his other favorite activities of late, which involve screaming, fishflopping, and throwing a goddamned CONNIPTION over having his diaper changed.)
We got out Riley’s old pushtoy for Dylan to walk behind, and at first it seemed like maybe the best idea any of us had ever had, because hello, how cute is this?
And also, my god, where has the time gone?
Then I remembered why the pushcar can be such a source of frustration for very little kids: they’re thrilled with it as long as they have forward momentum, but the instant it gets pushed into a corner or the wall or whatever, they have a total meltdown and collapse on the floor making dying-wildebeest noises, at which point, if there is an older brother around, the car promptly gets backed over someone’s finger, and then you have to do some deep breathing exercises because you are about to FEDEX ALL THESE PAIN-IN-THE-ASS CHILDREN TO OCTOMOM.
Anyway! The real reason I’m posting is to ask for hair advice. I’ve been growing mine out for a while and it’s officially gotten to a stage where I can barely stand it: it takes forever to blow-dry, and it’s all frizzy and unruly and needs a ton of styling to look halfway decent. I kind of like the wavy thing I’ve been doing lately with a curling iron, but again, it takes forever.
So I have an appointment for tomorrow, but I’m going back and forth on whether I should cut it back to the short bob that’s easy to dry and straighten, or just get it trimmed, keep growing it out, and hope that having it shaped will help with the amount of time it takes to style it? I keep lusting after longer hair, but I’m also thinking that maybe 1) I don’t have the patience for it, and 2) my curly-underneath, flat-on-the-surface cowlicky fuzzy hair isn’t really meant to BE long.
Current:
Shorter:
HALP!
Feb
19
Oh, what the hell. Relationship meme-y quiz thing, found via Dooce.
What are your middle names?
Mine is Lee, JB’s is William.
How long have you been together?
Just about exactly ten years: we started dating in 1999, and got married in 2001.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Maybe a year or so? We were both working for a company in Corvallis called Acres Gaming. I was their receptionist, JB was in purchasing. There was this whole thing about how employees were supposed to use a side door to avoid walking through the front office and disturbing the front desk person and JB would always come BARGING through the front door and stomp right by my desk on his way to the mailroom. He had me at RUDE BARGING ASSHOLE WHAT IS HIS GODDAMNED PROBLEM .
Who asked whom out?
I did my level best to send every message possible that I would be more than receptive to a, you know, overture on his part, but it wasn’t until I left that job and moved to Portland that we started talking over email and eventually dating. I’d say it was a mutual interest at that point, rather than one person asking the other out.
How old are each of you?
JB is 35, and as of today, so am I.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
Definitely JB’s, being as how I am an only child.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Ah, that would probably be parenthood.
Did you go to the same school?
Nope. JB graduated from Oregon State University, and I *mumble mumble something school of hard knocks? mumble*
Are you from the same home town?
No, JB is originally from Coos Bay, Oregon, and I was born in Manassas, Virginia. One of us has fond memories of hush puppies, the other knows how to skin an elk.
Who is smarter?
JB is definitely smarter with numbers, logic, maps, and the uncanny ability to recognize actors’ voices in commercial voiceovers or animated films. I’m usually better with, uhhhh . . . what are those things called? Words. Yeah.
Who is the most sensitive?
Me, definitely. I am a delicate flower, when I’m not busy horrifying people around me with bukkake references.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
A nearby sushi restaurant in Bellevue called Tuna House. Yes, we most often eat out as a couple at the TUNA HOUSE. Heh.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
Thailand.
Who has the craziest exes?
Neither, I guess. No drama there.
Who has the worst temper?
Hmm, probably me. I’m more apt to burst into flames during an argument, while JB is more of the issue-a-withering-statement-and-freeze-you-out-for-the-rest-of-the-night type. It’s been a long time since I’ve thrown anything at him, though, so maybe I’m making progress.
Who does the cooking?
JB’s idea of cooking is dialing a pizza place, so that would be me.
Who is the neat-freak?
JB is surprisingly anal about how dishes are supposed to be put in the dishwasher — I say surprisingly because this is the same man who recently tried to kill me with a horror-movie-esque knife arrangement — but I’m typically the one chasing down the majority of the clutter in our house. I wouldn’t say either one of us is a neat freak, though. Parenthood and neat-freakedness do not mix.
Who is more stubborn?
We are both hideously stubborn. It’s like two donkeys living together, and judging by Riley’s emerging heel-digging traits, our children are probably going to be GIANT PAINS IN THE ASS. Even more so than normal, I mean.
I’ll tell you, though, JB’s stubbornness eclipses mine in certain areas. Example: so every time JB calls that aforementioned pizza place, he insists he has a coupon for a large pizza and demands the coupon price. He has never owned such a coupon and I don’t even know why he started saying he did, but usually the delivery guy doesn’t ask for it and the web of lies can continue. This week, however, the guy on the phone got cocky with JB and started asking for details — what did the coupon say, when did it expire, etc — and finally said, “Look, do you have a coupon or NOT?” JB kept saying he DID, but his WIFE had it so he couldn’t give out DETAILS, he’d just hand it over when the pizza was DELIVERED, GOD.
So the delivery guy shows up and it turns out, it’s the same guy who was on the phone. And instead of dying of SHAME, JB just says, “Dude, here’s the deal, I’ve got a twenty dollar bill here. I couldn’t find the coupon, but you can either ring it up at the more expensive price and take a smaller tip, or you can use the (FAKE) coupon price and keep the change. Your choice.”
Delivery guy goes for Option B, and JB’s all, SCORE. Even though it cost the SAME. Because damn it all, he has to get that (NONEXISTENT) COUPON PRICE, or the WORLD IS GOING TO END.
Who hogs the bed?
Neither, unless JB’s hoping for a little somethin’ somethin’. Which reminds me of the conversation we had yesterday after I’d gotten home from my uber-early flight from LA and had crawled into bed hoping for a quick nap before picking up the kids.
JB: “So . . . backdoor?”
Me: “You’re funny.”
JB: “Front door?”
Me: “AM TIRED. AND GROSS. LEAVE ME BE, HUSBAND.”
JB: “. . . mouth?”
Who wakes up earlier?
JB, usually, but not by much.
Where was your first date?
A New Year’s Eve party. He showed up with a backpack full of Coors Light. HOT.
Who is more jealous?
Neither of us, really.
How long did it take to get serious?
Not long. We started dating in January of 1999, and had moved in together by the summer.
Who eats more?
He usually eats more during a meal, but I’m the one who snacks pretty much all night long. (Here is where JB would like to say something about a protein snack, but for god’s sake, I’m talking about baby carrots.)
Who does the laundry?
JB can put dirty clothes in the washing machine and turn it on, I don’t think he’s physically capable of the remaining steps. Sometimes I “accidentally” drop his clean underwear on the dog-hair-littered floor as I’m taking it out of the dryer. What?
Who’s better with the computer?
I used to be the only one with a Mac, so at one point he was far better than me with a PC but could not figure out how to use the Finder in Mac OS X (“I AM CLICKING THE SMILEY FACE WHAT NOW?”). Now that he’s got a MacBook, he’s probably more proficient at me in general, although I’m better at certain apps.
Who drives when you are together?
JB, almost always. He has “control issues” and clearly fancies himself the better driver. I’ll concede to his superior ability to back into tight parking spots and navigate off-road, but I’d also like to point out that only one of us has received, like, three speeding tickets in the last year.
Your turn! Come on, it’s more fun than that 25 Things quiz.
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