Too Bad I Wasn't Also Wearing a Scrunchie

Do you ever have one of those days where you're just going about your average hum-drum life, never suspecting your life is about to be altered in ways you could never suspect, and BAM!, your past comes dancing back into your life, painting everything around it with the awesomesauce that you once were?

That's exactly what happened to me on Saturday while doing a deep clean. During my diligent efforts to keep our official "dumping ground," the office, from reaching Hoarders-worthy levels of clutter, I unearthed a treasure trove of photo randomness.  In one envelope, there were about a hundred or so pictures that I had forgotten even existed.  Amongst them ... well, I'm not quite sure how to describe this tableau of my former self.  Except, that it is MORE AWESOME than one Polaroid can handle.

Brace yourselves for teenage Veronica:

KAPOW!  Jealous?  I knew you would be, yet I still feel I should honor myself by breaking down each moment of awesomeness, one-by-one. Because, honestly, look at all of the amazing contained within:

That's a lot, so let's start with the obvious:  the hair.

Spiral perm, scrunched to perfection, WITH bangs that had been curled under with my trusty curling iron.  Ugh, the layers of dried gel, mousse, and hairspray on that thing.  The SMELL when I turned it on and it began burning ... nothing like it.

The face framed by that hair?  Even better.  What is this face?  Honestly, I have a strong suspicion that this photo is staged.  

Beyond my pose on the bed ("Oh, I'm just lounging on the phone, as always!"), the tiny smirk in the corner of my mouth leads me to believe there was someone standing in the middle of my room saying, "Okay!  Pretend you're talking to someone on the phone!  One, two three!"  What possible reason would there be for me to need a picture of this?  What does it MEAN?

Next up: t-shirt.

Didn't EVERYONE wear their volleyball uniforms on a casual Saturday spent chatting on the phone?  No?  Just me?  Moving along ...


and stopping at my fancy jeans.

The wash.  The cut.  I even remember the brand -- Arizona jeans, available exclusively at JCPenney.  Hotness.

What?  You were distracted by that neon yellow phone cord?  Me too.  Let's follow it down to ...

An awesome see-through phone with neon-colored parts!!  I loved this phone so much I cannot even express it in words.

UPDATE: FINALLY found a picture of it online! Here it is in all its glory.

Perfection.

But what's that behind my head, you ask?  

Why, it's what all cool teenagers hang above their beds.  Yes, a map of the world.  With flags from every country making up the border.  


At the time, I secretly believed my mom's claim that if I slept with a textbook under my pillow, the material would seep into my brain through "osmosis." Perhaps I thought there would be a trickle-down affect.  The moral of the story?  My mom is a cruel woman.  She also told me that any sweets bought at a church bake sale were devoid of fat and calories.


Tangent over.  What else do cool teens keep close to their heads at night?

Rainbow Bright's horse, Starlite, of course.  To be fair, he is the "most magnificent horse in the universe."

That might be trumped by a GRADED ASSIGNMENT I HUNG ON MY WALL.  

I wish the quality were a little better so you could see that I had to describe a type of architecture and then make a 3-D example of it.  And then I hung it on my wall.  The shame.


And finally, what teenager's room would be complete without a copy of the junior high's logo, trimmed from a sporting event roster? ...

... and a picture of a white cat ...

... which used to be a page in a calendar ... from 1985.

If only I could have maintained such a dangerously high level of coolness over the years.  The burden must have been too much to carry.  

A Small Offering

I want to blog SUPER-DUPER bad right now, but I can't, for undisclosed reasons (hint: it has to do with a too-cute two-month-old child who I cannot bear to put down because she "doesn't like it."  Still waiting for a shower today.  Heh.).


And I have a post all written in my head, and I want to type it up, but I can't, plus I need to take a picture of something and write all over it in Paint, but my camera battery died yesterday WHILE THE BABY WAS BEING HELD BY HER GRANDPARENTS (!) because I am a total failure of an unprepared mother, and I am staring, panicked, at the light on the charger, hoping it finishes charging before we take Josephine to the apple orchard/pumpkin patch tonight, because if I don't get picture of THAT, I am pretty sure they will take my child away, and I CAN'T RISK IT!  


So, anyway, that was all totally unnecessary and took me like an hour to type with my one free hand, but what I really wanted to say was, "Real blog post later.  For now -- bizarre and funny video I saw on The Soup" (tangent: I asked Joel McHale to be Josephine's godfather.  Still waiting to hear back.):


Please, do enjoy!

In Your FACE, 4th of July!

Hey suckers.  What did you all do this 4th of July weekend?  Probably something lameballs like sit in lawn chairs and eat someone else's BBQ that may or may not have made you puke later in the evening (sorry, Brandon), right?  Ha ha ha .. so ordinary.


I am guessing you did NOT do what I did: attend a toga party thrown by YOUR PARENTS.  Boom.  I bet you all feel pretty silly now.


Because I got to dress like THIS (in a bedsheet from my childhood):

And my husband and sister rocked out some wicked cool sheets for their togas and enjoyed multiple free drinks (while I enjoyed multiple free shirley temples):

I got to share a romantic dance with my husband (while he desperately arched his spine and pretended that my massive preggo belly was NOT an issue while slow dancing):

Oh, and did I mention there were PRIESTS there? (identity obscured because I don't want to go to hell):

I also got to witness my parents being schmoopy:

And my dad acting like a whackadoo:

So, all in all ... I WIN!!  But I hope your weekend was lovely nonetheless (I'm not heartless).

RESULTS! And a SURPRISE ENDING!!!

So, remember how my ONE birthday wish was to get a doggy DNA test? And remember how my mom read my blog and bought me one?  And remember how TOTALLY normal people request things like doggy DNA tests all the time and it is totally not weird or lame or strange?  Well, we GOT IT and USED IT!


What?  You don't care what my mixed breed dog is made of?  Well, guess what?  It's MY freakin' blog, and it is RESULTS DAY!

She looks wary.  Maybe she isn't ready to learn who her daddy is?

Too bad, because *I* am.  We already knew that the test had a swab that we used to get cells from the inside of her cheeks, just like a human DNA test, but then we read the instructions, and we needed to get TWO swabs and those swabs had to be rubbed inside her mouth for TEN SECONDS EACH with one hand pressing on the outside of her cheek to get pressure and ensure lots of cells rubbed off onto the swab.

Guess what dogs don't like?  Yeah, someone shoving a huge q-tip in their mouth and rubbing it around for extended periods of time.

We have a super good dog, so she put up with it ...

"Woman, this just ain't right."

... for the first 18 seconds that is.  When we had two seconds of rubbing left (twss), she stopped playing along.

I decided DNA was more important than the comfort of my dog, so headlocks ensued.  Also, you get a bonus boob shot.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

In the end, I persevered over a squirmy dog:

We waited patiently for like a bazillion years (or two and a half weeks) and then we got the results in a large, important looking envelope in the mail. Just like I got when I was trying to determine the father of MY baby ... that might be a better story for later.  And Jeremy, if you're reading this, just ignore that part.


We knew that Cleo was predominantly a black lab, but with ears like this ...

and a tail like this ...

and a huge mane around her neck like this ...

and the fact that she weighs about 40 pounds less than a pure bred lab, we were excited.  And now we know.  Hold onto your panties.

=

(duh, Black Labrador Retriever)

+

(CHOW CHOW!)

+

(and ENGLISH SPRINGER SPANIEL!)

Okay, I think this conclusion is fascinating enough, but I have the feeling that some of you will not be all that interested.  So, I will ALSO reveal the REAL FATHER OF MY UNBORN CHILD!!!!

Ready?

Robert Downey, Jr., you ... ARE the father (Shouts and cheers from the Maury crowd.  Robert and I embrace.)

She's gonna be so beautiful ...

Cake-tastic

My mom told me to decide what kind of cake I wanted for my baby shower, and I was sure a Google image search would not disappoint.  Boy, was I right.  I found the WORLD'S WORST BABY SHOWER CAKE.  It is amazing and horrible, and I wanted to show it to you in all its glory, but instead I had to put up censor bars so as not to scar the sensibilites of my gentle readers. 

You migt be thinking at this point, censor bars on a BABY SHOWER cake?  Yeah, well.  You'll see ...

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BAM!

I told you it was something.  (If you're dying to see the original, click here)

So, what to do after finding the world's worst cake?  Find the best cake molds!!  I could shower you with amazing and impossible-to-recreate cakes, but I thought I would instead share cakes you can actually make.  I should probably be getting a cut of all sales that result from this post.  Note to self: contact companies demanding money.

Okay, on to my new favorite cake pans.

Here is one that you might have already seen, but I think it is worth highlighting:

 Wilton Giant Cupcake Cake, $24.99

Seriously, who doesn't love cupcakes?  And we all know making things giant is MONEY.  I can see this sitting in front of a one-year-old on his/her birthday as easily as I can see it at grandma's birthday bash.  Versitile AND delicious.  Killer.


Speaking of making giant sweets out of other sweets:

 Oreo Cookie Pan, $29.95

YUM!  It begs to be picked up and eaten like a giant Oreo.  I would really enjoy seeing that.


This last cake follows on the theme of giant things and also made me think of my husband:

Cakewich, $22.99

OH YEAH (in a Mac voice from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia)!  The fillings can be anything your heart desires, so all kinds of taste sensations could spring from this cake!  It also begs to be picked up and eaten.  Fan-bloody-tastic.


I still need to decide what my baby shower cake will look like, but I am leaning toward all four of these cakes at once.

*UPDATED* Awesomeness in the Shape of a Sausage. But Not a Sausage, Because I Hate Sausage.

So, remember how BP sucks and is lame and stupid and they continue to dump oil into the Gulf of Mexico day after day?  I knew you would.  And remember how they had that stupid dome idea (that would result in 5% of the oil spilling from the valve sneaking out of the dome ANYWAY -- by conservative estimates)?  You know how oil is BAD for ocean life and people life and other life?  Since BP cannot fix the problem, an awesome company in California is working on it.


Now, this idea is bloody fantastic.  I bet none of you would have thought of it.  I, incidentally, thought of it 6 years ago, but this company just beat me to the punch is all.  Okay, the awesome way they get oil out of the water?


HUMAN HAIR IN NYLONS.  Yup.  A Matter of Trust collects all those hair trimmings that salons sweep up off their floors and throw away, accept donated nylons, shove the nylons full of hair, and make big long sausage-like contraptions that they float in the water.  The waves go in oily and come out clean because the hair collects the oil.


Brilliant.  Amazing.  Strange, but amazing.


They are currently working on a huge blitz to get new donors, and they have had more volunteers sign up in the 72 hours after the oil spill than in the previous SIX YEARS they have been running the business.  Sometimes people are good.


The only problem they were facing was the fact that they didn't have enough nylons to keep up with all the hair they were receiving.  I mean, who wears nylons anymore?  Not me (sorry mom).  So they announced the need for nylons, and guess who showed up?  The transvestite community surrounding the San Fransisco home base of the company.  Bravo, ladies.  Most people in this country treat you like crap, but you are willing to help them all out.  I love transvestites even more now.  I do worry about the quality of the drag shows in the near future, however, but let's not be selfish here, people.  We can deal with hairy legs if it means the ocean can get all cleaned up, right?


Anyway, the bottom line is, this is awesome and weird and interesting all at the same time, and you should ask your own salon if they are part of this program.  If not, they can go to http://www.matteroftrust.org/index.html to get information on donations.  If you can't take time off work to go south and clean up the oil yourself, you can make a quick phone call to your salon to help.


Your reward will be imagining the bags of hair shaped like sausages floating around the Gulf of Mexico ...

UPDATE:  I lost a follower after publishing this post.  I have narrowed it down to a few possible reasons:

1.  Said reader hates sausage (But *I* hate sausage, too!!  It's in the title!)
2.  Said reader LIKES the oil spill (Perhaps he/she has dry skin and was hoping to use it for therapeautic purposes.)
3.  Said reader hates transvestites (Well, that is a crying shame, because they are lovely and dedicated.  Have you ever seen a biological women put so much energy into her appearance? I have not.)
4.  I suck (Lord knows, THIS could not be the truth.  I feel silly for even mentioning it.)

So, my money is on #2, and I feel I must step in:  PLEASE, DEAR FORMER READER, DO NOT USE THE OIL SPILL AS A BEAUTY TREATMENT!  IT DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY!

I did what I could.  Now you can never say I don't care.

Funny Stuff My husband Says, Vol. V

My husband is like the funniest guy on the planet. So, every once and a while, I salute him. Like today. To see all volumes of Funny Stuff My Husband Says, click here.




SCENE:  My phone rings late at night. And by late, I mean 9:30 PM.  


Jeremy:  Oh my. It's awfully late for someone to be calling you.


Veronica:  I know, right?


Jeremy:  Could you maybe tell your boyfriend to stop calling after 9 PM?


Veronica:  Sorry. I can't control him.


Jeremy:  Couldn't you at least get him to come over and walk this dog?!?!




SCENE:  Jeremy reaches over and surreptitiously grabs MY glass of water because his is empty and he doesn't want to go get more.


Veronica:  HEY! That's MY water!


Jeremy:  Uh, yeah. But you clearly weren't drinking it.


Veronica:  Jerk.


[I start responding to an e-mail from a friend]


Jeremy:  Oh great. What, are you BLOGGING about me now? "Oh, WAAA, my husband stole my WATER!"


Veronica:  *Death stare* [I open a blogger window] I am NOW.




(As reported by Jeremy's Co-worker Loe'l) SCENE: Loe'l and Jeremy are at work


Loe'l:  How do you tell someone he isn't funny?


Jeremy:  Is it me? Because I can try harder.




SCENE:  Facebook status hilarity (sorry it is a little small.  Click for larger version).

How Seinfeld Changed the World

Oh Seinfeld.  Sweet, sweet Seinfeld.  How I cherish you and the many beautiful moments you beamed into my home.  This post is an homage to you and the ways you have reached out and changed the world around you.

  

Soup Nazi

Ah, the beloved Soup Nazi from episode 116, "The Soup Nazi," (season 7). The gang is turned on to the best soup in NYC only to discover there are STRICT rules for ordering or "NO SOUP FOR YOU!"  

Not only do people recognize the Soup Nazi, but adding the word "Nazi" after another word is now a common way to describe someone who is unflinching with the rules.  For example, my students have called me not only a Grammar Nazi, but a Comma Nazi.  I take it as a huge compliment. 


"Yada Yada Yada"

In episode 153, "The Yada Yada," (season 8), we were brought the phrase "yada yada yada":

If you tried to tell me that you had never heard anyone say "yada yada yada," I would call you a straight up liar.  And if merchandise is any indication (which it almost always is), people love the yada yada yada.  A quick search turned up dozens of things, from mugs, coasters, t-shirts, and bags ...

... to a book series ..

The Yada Yada Prayer Group book series

... to electronics.

The Yada Yada Yada voice recorder

The yada yadas have it.


Muffin tops

In episode 155, "The Muffin Tops," (Season 8), Elaine tells her former boss, Mr. Lippman, about her million dollar idea for a store that only sells the tops of the muffins -- since they are obviously the best part of the muffin. Lippman starts a business called Top of the Muffin to You! shortly thereafter, but the business doesn't take off until Elaine explains he should make the WHOLE muffin and pop the top off.  Soon they are faced with the challenge of disposing of the "stumps."  

All in all, a wonderful episode because DOESN'T everyone love the top of the muffin?  It is so obviously the best.  I always save mine for last.  Plus, the copious use of the word "stumps" in reference to the rest of the muffin is killer.

Anyway, every time someone sees me pull the top off my muffin, they ask me about Elaine and Top of the Muffin to You!, and I am always excited to see how far Seinfeld is reaching into the muffin world.

Also, THIS exists:

The Muffin Top Pan by Chicago Metallic, $13.95

I mean, it goes against everything Elaine taught Lippman, but ...

Also -- while I have no evidence for this claim -- I bet all of the talk about muffin tops caused by Seinfeld led to people calling the pudge that pops out on the top of jeans a "muffin top."  

Again, I have no hard evidence for this, but when have I ever had evidence for something I posted on this blog?  Like never.

Shrinkage

In episode 85, "The Hamptons," (season 6) Jerry's girlfriend walks in on George as he is changing after swimming.  She is amused by what she sees, even though George tries to explain it was due to "shrinkage" from the cold water.  Later, Jerry and George explain the phenomenon to Elaine, saying it hides "like a frightened turtle" in cold water.  


Not only did they bring attention to a serious problem that has plagued mankind since the beginning of time, but they gave it a name.  In a valiant effort to clear the name of good men everywhere, Seinfeld goes above and beyond the call of duty.


Feel free to continue to spread the word:

Festivus

Perhaps the most widespread of the Seinfeld-isms, Festivus was introduced by Frank Costanza in episode 166, "The Strike," (season 9).  As Frank explains, "Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son.  I reach for the last one they had -- but so did another man.  As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way."  And so Festivus was born, with a pole instead of a tree, and airing of grievances and feats of strengths instead of gift giving. 

Festivus took fans by storm.

There is a Ben & Jerry's flavor named for it ...

... you can buy your very own Festivus pole ....

www.festivuspoles.com

... you can air your grievances "officially" ...

www.festivuspoles.com

... and make donations in your friends' names to the Human Fund.

And by god, you can even buy a Festivus thong for $12!

Thank goodness it is made in the USA.

What does it all mean?  Festivus is here to stay.  And Seinfeld is so influential that it could make up a holiday and the world would jump on board.

Seinfeld, we barely knew ye.  Nine short seasons were not enough.  And Jerry?  The Marriage Ref is not making up for the loss we have suffered. Try harder next time!


image sources not otherwise linked: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15