So, yeah, I jumped on the Twilight bandwagon.
It's not that I'm a big fan of vampires, although I did enjoy the Anne Rice series back in the day. Twilight was on Showtime one day, so I decided to watch. That was it for me. I ran out the very next day (or a week or so later) and borrowed the book from the library. I'm usually a "read the book, THEN see the movie" kind of girl. But whatever.
I found the movie was pretty true to the book. Aside from different characters saying a particular line or omitting some important details. I read Twilight in a weekend. The house fell apart, the children ran amok, I think my husband left me (or went on a business trip - he said something before he left, but...). Anyway, I couldn't put it down. I was Team Edward all the way. I added the soundtrack to my iPod. I couldn't get enough, so I went right into New Moon.
New Moon was different. It took me longer to get through. I read it over the course of a week (my co-workers have given up trying to talk to me in the lunchroom, I'm constantly surprised/relieved when I remember there are no vampires trying to kill me, and I've left a loaf of white bread and a jar of peanut butter on the kitchen counter in case the kids get hungry). New Moon was a great story, even though Edward leaves Bella (for her own safety, of course), which is depressing. But the reader gets to learn more about Jacob. I must admit, I was starting to lean Team Jacob.
No offense to Edward, of course. But, I am halfway through Eclipse and I'm getting pretty tired of him telling Bella what to do all the time. Cut the girl some slack, Edward. I realize there are blood-sucking vampires out to kill her, but you're kind of the reason they're after her. And she has werewolf friends to protect her. Let her live a little.
Sounds to me like she might be in an abusive relationship. He won't let her do things by herself (or, at the very least, she has to ask permission). She has no other life outside of him. She's not allowed to keep her best friend. Plus, she's willing to give up, you know, her human LIFE for him. I think she deserves to go to a cookout without him freaking out.
All that said, I'm still Team Edward. Because, of course, he's the one she's meant to be with. And he's awesome. You know, in an intelligent, brooding, vampire-like way.
What she really needs to do is stay away from the mythical creatures, find herself a nice human boy with a good moral upbringing, have a few babies, grow old and die. You know, like the rest of us.
Obviously, I don't know what happens as I haven't finished the series, but maybe she takes my advice. Maybe she pulls a Kelly Taylor "I choose me", kicks Edward and Jacob to the curb, goes to college, becomes an award-winning author (her stories based loosely on her experiences) and talk show host, finds a nice woman to settle down with (because, clearly, no other man could compare to a vampire or a werewolf), adopts 12 babies from some third world country, grows old and dies.
It could happen.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Eh, Scrabble this
So, I got an iPhone for Christmas. Sort of. What actually happened was:
I downloaded about 50 unnecessary applications, from MoodSense (which is pretty much the dumbest app out there) to fun games like LineUp and Word Warp.
The boys have had a great time with my phone. Even my 2-year-old knows:
a) which phone is mine and which is Daddy's
b) how to turn it on
c) how to find the games he likes (Paper Toss and the Lightsaber app)
As with most things, of course, the novelty wears off. I don't like some features of the phone. I still hate that the phone doesn't have buttons, so I never text correctly. I appreciate autocorrect, but I'm also annoyed by it. Sometimes I misspell things on purpose and should be allowed to do so without the spell check police. I know you can turn it off, but, like I said, I appreciate it (see: I never text correctly).
Anyway, it went back to just being a phone for me. Until my sister told me to download Words With Friends. Which is Scrabble. With friends. Who have iPhones.
I thought this was a great game for me. I have my Bachelor's Degree in English, I'm fairly well read, I have a word of the day emailed to me every day. I am smart enough to make words out of letters.
I have never felt so dumb in my life.
In the 4 games my sister and I have played, I've only won once. And it's never even close. She beats the pants off me every time. She's an expert at using the double and triple letters to gain 50 points with one 3-letter word.
I hate her a little bit.
This last game, she played the word meze, for 70 points. What the hello is meze? According to dictionary.com, the word doesn't exist, so I should be able to call foul, but the damgame (a word my iPhone would have autocorrected) allowed it.
My brother has a theory she has another app installed on her phone that provides her words with the letters she has in her queue. I wholeheartedly agree. Because she's a cheater. Normally, her cheating is to my advantage as I'm usually on her team, but when she's playing against me, it's bullsheet (another word that would've been autocorrected).
Anyway, I played a game with my husband. In the beginning, we were fairly even. He had some pretty good words, giving him 20+ points each time. I am now losing to him.
Screw Scrabble.
- my old cell phone broke
- I wasn't due for a new phone until April
- the rest of my siblings all got iPhones for Christmas
- the iPhone looked like fun
- my husband had his old iPhone just lying around
I downloaded about 50 unnecessary applications, from MoodSense (which is pretty much the dumbest app out there) to fun games like LineUp and Word Warp.
The boys have had a great time with my phone. Even my 2-year-old knows:
a) which phone is mine and which is Daddy's
b) how to turn it on
c) how to find the games he likes (Paper Toss and the Lightsaber app)
As with most things, of course, the novelty wears off. I don't like some features of the phone. I still hate that the phone doesn't have buttons, so I never text correctly. I appreciate autocorrect, but I'm also annoyed by it. Sometimes I misspell things on purpose and should be allowed to do so without the spell check police. I know you can turn it off, but, like I said, I appreciate it (see: I never text correctly).
Anyway, it went back to just being a phone for me. Until my sister told me to download Words With Friends. Which is Scrabble. With friends. Who have iPhones.
I thought this was a great game for me. I have my Bachelor's Degree in English, I'm fairly well read, I have a word of the day emailed to me every day. I am smart enough to make words out of letters.
I have never felt so dumb in my life.
In the 4 games my sister and I have played, I've only won once. And it's never even close. She beats the pants off me every time. She's an expert at using the double and triple letters to gain 50 points with one 3-letter word.
I hate her a little bit.
This last game, she played the word meze, for 70 points. What the hello is meze? According to dictionary.com, the word doesn't exist, so I should be able to call foul, but the damgame (a word my iPhone would have autocorrected) allowed it.
My brother has a theory she has another app installed on her phone that provides her words with the letters she has in her queue. I wholeheartedly agree. Because she's a cheater. Normally, her cheating is to my advantage as I'm usually on her team, but when she's playing against me, it's bullsheet (another word that would've been autocorrected).
Anyway, I played a game with my husband. In the beginning, we were fairly even. He had some pretty good words, giving him 20+ points each time. I am now losing to him.
Screw Scrabble.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Benjamin Bratt ain't got nothin' on this cleaner
So, I'm Greek, right? It is in our nature to speak our minds (loudly), to cook with abandon (and without recipes, which is annoying) (needless to say, this gene skipped over me entirely), to spit on people in order to ward off evil spirits, and, in my family, to clean.
I was taught early on how to clean. My mother is a cleaner. Growing up, both her parents worked, so she and my aunt used to spend their Saturdays cleaning the house. They would each have "sides" of the house to clean, and, when they were done, they would invite the other over for tea. Or baklava.
It's real dedication when you can make cleaning a game.
After she married, my mother made it her life's work to keep a clean home for her family. She went to great lengths, including yelling (see: speak our minds (loudly)) at us to clean our rooms. After a while, we were so used to the yelling, she began to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher, bless her heart.
So, fine. Teaching me to clean didn't mean I listened back then. My room growing up was a disaster. I was a big fan of leaving piles of clothes on my floor all week. You couldn't even see the floor, it was so bad. And, on the weekends, I would heave the entire pile down the laundry shoot.
Saturdays were my mother's favorite day of the week. Yeah, not really (see: speak our minds (loudly)).
The summer I was 14, my mom and sister went to Greece for 6 weeks. Before Mom escaped, she left me strict instructions to clean the house, do the laundry, water the plants, iron my dad's shirts, etc. Basically be my father's and brothers' (and grandfather's) bitch for the next 6 weeks.
Let me tell you, boys are gross. And it really sucks to clean up after them all the time. They are not capable of aiming their little things at the toilet bowl. How hard can it be? My brothers were 16 and 12 at the time, so not children, but apparently not old enough to know when they dribbled on the BATHROOM FLOOR! Anyway, I was very grateful to my mother when she returned. I'll tell ya, I never cleaned the house as well as she did. The second day she was home, the house already looked and felt better. I knew then I was way out of my league.
20 years later, I still clean the way I learned at 14. Bleach and Lysol are my friends, not my enemies (even though I admit I hate when bleach gets on my colors and Lysol still reminds me of being sick). My friends constantly make fun of me for saying I have to clean. But, it is who we are. We clean. And since we're stuck in this winter wonderland from hell, I spent my day cleaning the house. Sweeping floors, dusting, washing clothes, cleaning dambathrooms. I feel so much better.
For the record? Boys are still gross. I share a home with my husband and 2 sons. I am outnumbered and scared to death of my boys becoming teenagers. I can't really get mad at my 5-year-old for missing the bowl... mostly because he doesn't use the master bath. And, in defense of my husband, he did offer to clean the toilets.
As much as I'd love to take him up on that, he also said he'd wash the floors and the shower weekly and those things are only done on holidays (like Leap Day). Plus, he'd never do a good enough job. No offense to him, I'd feel that way about anyone cleaning my house.
Well, except my mother. So, if she wants to come over to clean my bathroom, I'll be more than happy to let her. I have the bleach and Lysol waiting for you, Mom.
Mom? Please??
I was taught early on how to clean. My mother is a cleaner. Growing up, both her parents worked, so she and my aunt used to spend their Saturdays cleaning the house. They would each have "sides" of the house to clean, and, when they were done, they would invite the other over for tea. Or baklava.
It's real dedication when you can make cleaning a game.
After she married, my mother made it her life's work to keep a clean home for her family. She went to great lengths, including yelling (see: speak our minds (loudly)) at us to clean our rooms. After a while, we were so used to the yelling, she began to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher, bless her heart.
So, fine. Teaching me to clean didn't mean I listened back then. My room growing up was a disaster. I was a big fan of leaving piles of clothes on my floor all week. You couldn't even see the floor, it was so bad. And, on the weekends, I would heave the entire pile down the laundry shoot.
Saturdays were my mother's favorite day of the week. Yeah, not really (see: speak our minds (loudly)).
The summer I was 14, my mom and sister went to Greece for 6 weeks. Before Mom escaped, she left me strict instructions to clean the house, do the laundry, water the plants, iron my dad's shirts, etc. Basically be my father's and brothers' (and grandfather's) bitch for the next 6 weeks.
Let me tell you, boys are gross. And it really sucks to clean up after them all the time. They are not capable of aiming their little things at the toilet bowl. How hard can it be? My brothers were 16 and 12 at the time, so not children, but apparently not old enough to know when they dribbled on the BATHROOM FLOOR! Anyway, I was very grateful to my mother when she returned. I'll tell ya, I never cleaned the house as well as she did. The second day she was home, the house already looked and felt better. I knew then I was way out of my league.
20 years later, I still clean the way I learned at 14. Bleach and Lysol are my friends, not my enemies (even though I admit I hate when bleach gets on my colors and Lysol still reminds me of being sick). My friends constantly make fun of me for saying I have to clean. But, it is who we are. We clean. And since we're stuck in this winter wonderland from hell, I spent my day cleaning the house. Sweeping floors, dusting, washing clothes, cleaning dambathrooms. I feel so much better.
For the record? Boys are still gross. I share a home with my husband and 2 sons. I am outnumbered and scared to death of my boys becoming teenagers. I can't really get mad at my 5-year-old for missing the bowl... mostly because he doesn't use the master bath. And, in defense of my husband, he did offer to clean the toilets.
As much as I'd love to take him up on that, he also said he'd wash the floors and the shower weekly and those things are only done on holidays (like Leap Day). Plus, he'd never do a good enough job. No offense to him, I'd feel that way about anyone cleaning my house.
Well, except my mother. So, if she wants to come over to clean my bathroom, I'll be more than happy to let her. I have the bleach and Lysol waiting for you, Mom.
Mom? Please??
Thursday, February 4, 2010
God, I hate winter
So I made it through January. Barely.
We're on the 4th day of February and I think I'm going to lose it.
I'll admit we had it pretty good in January. There weren't very many bitterly cold days, the snow was at a minimum. I kind of figured we were over the hump. The days are already getting longer... we've made it through the snowiest month (historically speaking)... Spring is on its way, right? Right?
But then that damn groundhog. Can't he just, for once, not see his effin' shadow? You know, if you believe that kind of thing. I honestly don't know if that little rat is accurate. All I know is that I heard 6 more weeks of winter-like weather and wanted to kill someone.
(But, in my defense, I would only kill someone who really deserved it. Like the guy who cut me off the other day or my brother who left the toilet seat up in MY. OWN. BATHROOM.)
Okay, so maybe I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm SAD. I always thought it was a made up disease, like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or Mononucleosis (which are just a fancy words for lazy).
I had a friend who would get "happy pills" every winter from his doctor. I'm liking that idea. Who doesn't want happy pills? I have been eating oranges for weeks now, thinking the citrus scent might fool my brain into thinking we're in Florida or something. It kind of works, too. But then I look outside and see the stupid snow. A pill may be just what I need to forget I live in Cleveland - a city that gives its inhabitants about 30 days of sunlight a year.
Speaking of sunlight, I was at the vitamin store yesterday and the man behind the counter went on a 10-minute tirade about the importance of Vitamin D (which is provided by the sun, by the way). Apparently, there's an epidemic of Vitamin D deficiency in the world. I told him I take a multivitamin and he went off again, telling me my multivitamin isn't giving me nearly enough Vitamin D.
(sidenote: I've heard this speech before - that a multivitamin doesn't give you nearly enough of the vitamins you need. So, what is its purpose exactly?)
This man boasted that he takes 2,000 (what do they use to measure vitamins? Units?) a day. And the manager said he takes 4,000. I read an article today that says we're supposed to get 5,000 units a day, so even these guys suck. And they have free access to the stuff every day! I should have lied and told him I took 10,000 a day just so I could buy what I wanted and get the hello out of there. Live and learn.
I hear exercise might help get me through the funk. But my idea of exercise in the winter is either running my mouth, channel surfing on TV (after all, we have American Idol and the Bachelor to watch), or dancing in my car.
So, to sum up, the weather sucks, I'm not getting enough vitamins, and I refuse to exercise because everyone else is doing it. I'm screwed.
Oh, eff it. Just give me some chocolate and alcohol and wake me when it's May.
We're on the 4th day of February and I think I'm going to lose it.
I'll admit we had it pretty good in January. There weren't very many bitterly cold days, the snow was at a minimum. I kind of figured we were over the hump. The days are already getting longer... we've made it through the snowiest month (historically speaking)... Spring is on its way, right? Right?
But then that damn groundhog. Can't he just, for once, not see his effin' shadow? You know, if you believe that kind of thing. I honestly don't know if that little rat is accurate. All I know is that I heard 6 more weeks of winter-like weather and wanted to kill someone.
(But, in my defense, I would only kill someone who really deserved it. Like the guy who cut me off the other day or my brother who left the toilet seat up in MY. OWN. BATHROOM.)
Okay, so maybe I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm SAD. I always thought it was a made up disease, like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or Mononucleosis (which are just a fancy words for lazy).
I had a friend who would get "happy pills" every winter from his doctor. I'm liking that idea. Who doesn't want happy pills? I have been eating oranges for weeks now, thinking the citrus scent might fool my brain into thinking we're in Florida or something. It kind of works, too. But then I look outside and see the stupid snow. A pill may be just what I need to forget I live in Cleveland - a city that gives its inhabitants about 30 days of sunlight a year.
Speaking of sunlight, I was at the vitamin store yesterday and the man behind the counter went on a 10-minute tirade about the importance of Vitamin D (which is provided by the sun, by the way). Apparently, there's an epidemic of Vitamin D deficiency in the world. I told him I take a multivitamin and he went off again, telling me my multivitamin isn't giving me nearly enough Vitamin D.
(sidenote: I've heard this speech before - that a multivitamin doesn't give you nearly enough of the vitamins you need. So, what is its purpose exactly?)
This man boasted that he takes 2,000 (what do they use to measure vitamins? Units?) a day. And the manager said he takes 4,000. I read an article today that says we're supposed to get 5,000 units a day, so even these guys suck. And they have free access to the stuff every day! I should have lied and told him I took 10,000 a day just so I could buy what I wanted and get the hello out of there. Live and learn.
I hear exercise might help get me through the funk. But my idea of exercise in the winter is either running my mouth, channel surfing on TV (after all, we have American Idol and the Bachelor to watch), or dancing in my car.
So, to sum up, the weather sucks, I'm not getting enough vitamins, and I refuse to exercise because everyone else is doing it. I'm screwed.
Oh, eff it. Just give me some chocolate and alcohol and wake me when it's May.
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