Random Tuesday Thoughts: Yes, Petra, There is a Santa Claus

Today I am participating in the much celebrated and super awesome Random Tuesday Thoughts hosted by Keely over at The Un-Mom, so grab that button up there, visit her over at her pad and write some random stuff of your own on your own blog. But first read this and don't steal it. Get your own randomness, this is MINE.

Just when you think things can't get any worse, they do. Yup, they get a LOT worse. So then you are convinced that things are never going to get any BETTER and you start to get used to your cursed life. You accept that you have no money, never will and will just have to suck it up, that the only luck you will ever have is bad luck, but that it's alright because you have family that loves you and pretty good hair so it's cool. But then something happens. Something you don't recognize. It takes you a minute to figure it out, but then you realize that it's something...good. That something good happened to me today people. After about a month and a half of absolutely ZERO job prospects from dozens of resumes and job applications sent out, I heard from TWO different prospective employers. Then I had a phone interview with one of them.

And I got the job.

I fucking rule.

It's a very part time copy editing and blogging gig for a start up upscale event planning company in Boston, and it certainly isn't going to solve all our money problems, but it's a start, and it's something GOOD, so I'm happy. It doesn't take much lately. Plus, the owner is simply fabulous and we hit it off right away so I am really looking forward to this new opportunity. So Merry Christmas to me, there IS a Santa Claus!

Next, I want to talk about this:

This photo is taken from the blog of Bob X. Cringely. This is his family's ACTUAL, REAL -LIFE Christmas card.

Um, really Bob? I was literally left speechless. I am not even going to say what I think. I want to know what YOU think about this little gem.

On to a picture with a lot less skin and a lot more cute little girl.

I am pretty sure this is the picture I am choosing for Quinn's portfolio picture for the modeling agency. Oh, you didn't know that my child is a bidding young model/actress/rock star? Well, she is. There were so many cute ones to choose from that my friend, Jennifer DeCesari took, but I think this one is the winner. Go check out her web site for more of her awesome photography.

So what do you think? And please keep your opinions about child modeling to yourself if they involve the fact that you think I am exploiting my child. She WANTS to do this, and if she is successful, it will send her to college. So bite me.

Finally, I wanted to tell you about the conversation that I had with my daughter at bedtime last night. She informed me that she has changed her mind and does not, in fact, want to marry Joe Jonas anymore. I know, I know, I was surprised too. I mean, he seems like the logical choice. But she has her mind absolutely made up that she would like to marry someone else. A young man who embodies everything that is good and fun in her little world, the young man who has taught her countless priceless lessons in life and about the value of a really good pillow fight.

This young man is her brother.

"I am going to marry Big Boy. He will be the daddy and I will be the mommy," she said to me.

As I tried my absolute hardest not to laugh, I said to her "Honey, you can't marry Big Boy, he is your brother. You're not allowed to marry your brother."

Her eyes filled up with tears and her lip quivered and I had to try even harder not to laugh. I know, I am a terrible, insensitive mother.

"Please, mommy? Please? I want to marry Big Boy. I really do!"

And when I shook my head, she burst into hysterical tears and I had to hug her and bury her head into my shoulder so she couldn't see the pained, trying-so--incredibly-hard-not-to-burst-into-laughter look on my face.

I finally got her calmed down and tucked into bed, and she cried herself to sleep, the poor little thing. I went into Big Boy's room and told him what happened, thinking he would get a kick out of it.

"Hey Big Boy, Baby Girl just got really upset because I told her she couldn't marry you because you are her brother."

He looked up from his Nintendo DS, rolled his eyes and said "Tell her not to worry, I'll help her find a husband."

Now that, my friends, is real brotherly love.

Happy holidays everyone. I love you and appreciate you all. Enjoy your families this season, be safe, have fun, and try not to get stressed out. Remember what matters.

All I Want for Chirstmas Is To Stay Out Of Rehab

I stopped drinking during the week.

Gasp!

I know. Shocking and mildly disturbing, right? Especially at this time of year, when stress and chaos abound, and with two kids, being unemployed and living with my in-laws, having a drink on a Tuesday night was a vital way to unwind and cope with the uber-demanding entity I like to call my life.

Which is a big problem. Because, in fact, not only was a glass of wine a way to unwind, it was a completely necessary and MUST HAVE part of my day. If I did not have a bottle of wine, I found a way to get one. And most nights, let's be honest, it did not stop at one glass of wine, it usually escalated into two or three, which inevitably lead to me feeling sweater tongued and heavy headed the next morning - and waiting longingly for 6 or 7 p.m. when I could have my beloved glass (or two) of wine again. The letter of the day is "W" people. And the word of the day is "wino."

I am not saying I am an alcoholic, but in a family famous for alcoholics, I know how damaging it can be, and I don't want to go down that road. I also know that the worst time to be drinking a little too much is a time when you are stressed out and overwhelmed. So I decided to nip it in the bud before I became the next victim on Intervention. I had already started getting suspicious every time I was invited to a get-together or someone wanted to videotape me for something. And when people automatically assumed I was drinking wine every night while watching television, I knew A&E was only the next logical step.

Not only that, but it saves hundreds of calories a week, and tons of money that we certainly don't have to spend right now, so in my somewhat deluded estimation I am killing, like, 24 birds with one stone.

Even my husband, Mr. Open a Beer As Soon As He Gets Home has all but stopped drinking. I know, right? He now drinks MILK at night during the week. Is there anything cuter than a grown man drinking milk at night at home while watching the basketball game? No, there isn't. But we have both found that we are so much more clear headed and feel so much better, plus there is no danger of feeling out of control or bajiggity when the shit hits the fan. That is of utmost importance, you know, keeping the bajiggitness at bay during times of stress and hardship.

So I figure by being all grown up and responsible-like, I am doing myself and my family a big favor. And now the only thing I am in danger of being on Intervention for is my unhealthy adult obsession with The Jonas Brothers ;)

Seriously, though, if you or someone you love has a substance abuse problem, please seek help. Here are some links to useful resources:

Drug Abuse and Addiction: Signs, Symptoms and Help for Drug Problems

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

Substance Abuse Treatment Facility Locator

Go Elf Yourself!

One thing about being unemployed, you find yourself with quite a bit of free time on your hands. And rather than spend that time doing constructive things such as clean, write, look for jobs, or even blog, I find myself doing stuff such as "elfing" my entire family for mine and my daughter's absolute and complete enjoyment. That is what I did yesterday afternoon. And it did, indeed, keep us entertained for the ENTIRE afternoon because, surprisingly, it didn't get old and we spent about two hours watching them over and over and laughing HYSTERICALLY.

So here they are now, for your viewing pleasure. Starring me, my daughter, my son, my husband and a very special guest star whom my daughter would not let me leave out of the fun. There will be a very special Christmas prize for the first person who knows the name of that young, handsome bonus elf. (FADKOG, calling FADKOG!!!!!)

Enjoy!!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

I Am Not That Funny And I Can't Save You Money On Insurance But I Can Kick You In The Nuts

Like my self-esteem is not low enough. My celebrity look-alikes can't be anyone stunningly beautiful and gracious. No, not me. I get told I look like the most obscure, goofy, dorky people in the public eye.

I cut my bangs, proof of which can be found in my new picture over there in yonder right sidebar. Also, I had to upgrade my eyeglass prescription AGAIN because I am slowly going blind and my contact lenses are scratching the corneas out of my eyeballs, so I used my computer glasses frames to get a new RX so that I could use the old frames and RX for computer use because my eyes are SO bad and my prescription is SO strong that when sitting in front of the computer, the prescription actually burns my eyeballs and deteriorates them even faster, according to the eye doctor. Yeah, I am a genetic winner apparently. But that's not the point. The point is that with my new bangs and glasses, apparently the dude with chin pubes and a receding hairline at Blockbuster thinks I look JUST LIKE the nerdy comedian girl from the Adam Sandler movie Funny People. Uh, thanks?

This is her:In the movie, they refer to her as "mousy" yet "sexy" like a "mouse you want to stick your dick in." Are you trying to tell me something Blockbuster man? Ew. Just...ew.

Now, that's not the worst of it. The other person that people like to tell me that I look like (including my dear, dear husband) is FLO from the Progressive Insurance Commercials.

Seriously? I don't think I look ANYTHING like her. And she is a total spaz. I'm not a spaz, am I? Am I? Wait, don't answer that. Moving right along...

I just wouldn't mind someone pulling me aside at the grocery store and saying "Wow, you look just like "insert gorgeous, glamorous celebrity here" instead of "that nerdy chick from that movie" or "that hyper lady from that commercial." Is that too much to ask? Really?

I guess I need to start wearing my evening gown out to the grocery store from now on...so who do people tell YOU you look like?