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Violet’s Splendiferous News!

30 Jul

Dearest Readers, I have been such a workaholic these past few months. Just as I thought I was getting a little break from my killer schedule when I graduated from my Masters program, I accepted a part-time job, and I went back to my crazy 14-16 hour days.

But I’m proud to announce that those days are (kind of) behind me:

I’m a work-at-home Mom now!

The part-time folks made me a full time offer I couldn’t refuse (kind of like the educational mafia, no?). The hours are pretty long – 8am – 8pm each week day – but the benefits, both tangible and intangible, are amazing. I get to work from the comfort of my home. I get to take coffee breaks and pee at my leisure! (Teachers, you can understand why that’s so important.) Best of all? I get to spend my coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, and meals with my daughter!

I’m so fortunate to have an amazingly supportive husband. Buddy, who is back in school, will watch Pterodactyl while I work, and then I get to be with her while he’s in class. I get to take my favorite classes at the gym. I get to grocery shop off-peak hours, when I don’t have to play bumper cars with the majority of my community. And best of all? When I decide I’m done for the day, I’m done for the day. I don’t have to wait until the appropriate time to clock out, then join the herd of sheep crawling across three interstates to get home. I just turn off my computer, leave my office/guest room, and join the rest of my family.

I’m not promising that this life change will bring more frequent blogging; I’m actually afraid that I’ll never want to touch a computer after I’m through with my work day. But I can promise that I’ll be able to make more of an effort to reach out to you, and continue to entertain and thrill you with my caustic, obnoxious sense of humor.

Excuse me while I pop some champagne.

-Violet

It’s a Small World After All…

25 Jun

I love those “Small World!” stories, don’t you?

While 100 miles from home today, I became chatty with a cool chick, with whom I instantly clicked. Later tonight, I sent her a friend request on Facey-Space, and learned that we both are FB friends with my cousin. Out of sheer curiosity, I called my Prima, who told me that she was super close to this girl in college. Not only did they hang out, but apparently, they even traveled together. It’s not as though we all live in a small town where this kind of shit happens regularly; we’re big city gals! Millions of people cross our paths on a daily basis!

I have two favorite “Small World” stories of my own:

1. In high school, Daisy was at my house, and I was forcing her to look through pictures of my childhood. She pointed to one particular picture and said, “How do you know Uncle ___?” She gave me pause. I corrected her: “How do you know MY Uncle ____?” It seems as though both Daisy’s parents and my folks were good friends with the same family, and we all (apparently) would attend their annual holiday parties, where the grown-ups would abandon us children with the nanny. We realized that as 2, 3, 4, 5 year olds, Daisy and I played together at these events. Unbeknownst to us, we were destined to become Heterosexual Life Partners 13 years later, and one county away. Freaky.

2. While my big brother was in his senior internship in college (and I a geeky high school Freshman, just beginning to befriend Daisy), he would often call me and tell me stories about his cool adult job. His favorite things to talk about were the old man teacher who kind of “mentored” him and the obnoxious brat in his class who seemed to enjoy making his internship more difficult. Fast forward 7 years: I’m taking my big brother to my boyfriend Buddy’s house to meet his family. Buddy and I had only been dating about 8 or 9 months at this point. When my big brother walked into Buddy’s house, he spied Buddy’s younger brother, and his eyes got wide. Buddy’s dad walked in the room and gave my brother a big hug. Turns out, that cool older teacher was BUDDY’S DAD, and the obnoxious student was BUDDY’S BROTHER! You read that right: my brother knew my in-laws 7 years before I even met my husband in the first place.

Does this shit ever happen to you? Please share your favorite “HOLY CRAP!” moments with us!

As always, thank you for reading and commenting.

-Violet

Pomp and Circumstance

7 May

WE’RE GRADUATING, BITCHES!

Ok. Not the classiest lead-in, but I’m just so fucking excited.

I know that everyone thinks their graduation is special, just like everyone thinks their baby is cute. I know that 95% of us are wrong. But let me tell you why our graduation tonight is the most specialist, amazing, wonderful accomplishment EVER!

First things first: You’ll notice that I used the third-person possessive pronoun “we.” Tonight, both Buddy and I walk for our degrees. He’s graduating with his Bachelor’s, and I with my Master’s. That’s a BFD (“Big Fucking Deal”) in and of itself: save for couples in the exact same degree program, I’ve never heard of a husband and wife graduating in the same ceremony. So that’s pretty cool.

The road to tonight was paved with bullshit and challenges. I know, I know: everyone says that. Everyone thinks their education was difficult. But they didn’t go through what we went through to get here.

Buddy started college just like everyone else: straight out of high school. A student by day, soldier by weekend, he soon learned that the military trumped college. On three separate occasions, the military deployed him, causing him to pause his education. The first time, he lost a semester. The second time, he lost four semesters. The third time, he lost two semesters before he began working on online classes during the deployment. All the while, he was diagnosed with Adult ADD, and had to struggle through the obvious road blocks to overcome the ADD and flourish in school. PTSD decided to rear its ugly head, and that fucked with his ability to concentrate and succeed in the classroom. Then we got pregnant. He stopped being a full-time student and went to work. Buh-buy, semester! Once the baby came, we decided it would be economically advantageous for him to resume his studies and stay home with the kid. His last three semesters were spent working during nap times and late into the night, around the baby’s schedule. In spite of the military; in spite of the PTSD and ADD; in spite of being a full-time Stay-At-Home-Daddy, he finished last week. He’s officially a college graduate.

Graduate school was not at the top of my priority list. I applied because my professional mentor and friend, Super Teacher, forced inspired me to. Right as my first semester began, we bought a house. Buddy was deployed, so I was doing all the house-hunting, inspection-supervising, and document-signing. Oh, and all the packing and moving and unpacking, too. Trust me, it wasn’t fun to do my reading on my bed because my desk was packed, and the couch was covered with boxes. But we moved, and we settled, and Buddy returned from the deployment. Hurdle number one: conquered. I kicked ass for another semester, but at the beginning of the following semester, I learned I was pregnant. I was tired, irritable, bitchy, and unmotivated. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t pleasant to teach or collaborate with. The semester of my last trimester, I only took one course just in case the monkey decided to arrive early. I was so pregnant and fat that I hardly fit into the desks at my university. When the baby was born, I took the next semester off to be with her. (Good call on my part, because I don’t know how I would have passed my courses with the 6 nightly feedings and 2 hours of sleep I was dealing with.) By the time that ended and I was due to return to school, I was so under-motivated that I was pathetic. All I wanted was to stay home with the kid and play; work and school meant shit to me. Already deep in debt from the previous semesters and six classes from graduating, I said, “FUCK IT” and pushed on. My last semester, I had an administrative internship apart from my teacher responsibilities, and I slaved away on superfluous tasks night and day for five months. Some days, I wouldn’t even see the kid, since she was asleep when I left for work, and asleep when I got home from class later that night. Let’s not even discuss my near-nervous breakdown, because we already covered that shit in a previous post.

Let’s recap: between Buddy and me, we served in the military, bought a house, struggled with our mental health, made the baby, baked the baby, had the baby, and raised the baby, all while attending school. Tonight, when we walk, we’re walking in spite of our obstacles. We’re sporting our caps and gowns (and me, my hood) for every life event that threatened to derail our education.

Know what? WE’RE MOTHER-FUCKING GRADUATES!!!!

Stick Figure Families I’d Love to See

25 Apr

I’m normally quick to pass judgment on the cars with stick figure families. In addition to being straight-up tacky, they’re rocked by geeks. These are the same people who probably have a collection of, “I’m With Stupid” tee-shirts and Thomas Kinkade paintings around their homes.

For those of you who secretly love those car stickers and want to decorate your station wagon: don’t worry. I’m planning a line of Stick Figure Families that are not only honest and accurate, but informative to other drivers who share the roads with you:

Naked Stick Family
Does this exist? If so, I want to see a collection on every car in America. If not, I’m throwing that shit under the D&V copyrights and making a line of them. Imagine it: dingalings and va-jay-jays adorning these little stick people, showing us what this family is REALLY about!. We could even differentiate for the variety of patrons out there! The “Daddy” stick figure could feature a variety of Wang sizes. This would be especially useful when Daddy cuts you off in traffic: upon seeing the Naked Stick Father with the itty-bitty dick, you’ll automatically feel pity instead of anger. And for all the breast-feeding mommas out there, Stick Figure Mommy can have standard boobs, or a rack that hangs down to her stick figure knees! I think this is my favorite idea of the bunch. 0:-)

Controversial Stick Figure Family
Gay parents, interracial families, polygamy: under these circumstances, any old stick figure family will do. The fun here is driving down the street in rural Bible Belt territory and watching the expressions on the faces of the plebeians when they realize that there are two stick figure mommies (and possibly a Stick Figure Daddy, too), or one black stick figure and one white stick figure. Oh, what fun!

Single People
There are two sub-categories here. First, you have the “Single and Happy” crowd. We need to make a line of stick figure people for you. Instead of children and cats, your stick figure people will come with degrees, large bank accounts, and an active sex life. (Any suggestions for what THAT sticker would look like? I’m thinking an unrolled condom…) For the “Single and Depressed” folks, your car stickers would come with Weight Watchers frozen meals, Fabio-covered novels, and cats. Lots of cats. We’ll get the message loud and clear when we pull up behind your slow-as-shit Kia in traffic to find one stick figure woman and 36 stick figure cats. And maybe a stick figure vibrator.

Fatties
Consider it a warning label for drivers who may want to park beside this minivan: chubby stick figure people will alert you to leave a lot of space between your car and theirs! If fatties are willing to own their shit, I say, let ’em have their stick figure people. (Isn’t that a fun little paradox?!)

What stick figure families have you always wanted to see? Thanks for reading and commenting!

Fun With Texting: 4/16/2012

16 Apr

Pterodactyl stole her Mommy’s phone and was text messaging her Auntie Daisy… She also called me twice! Love that girl!

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Vanity.

11 Apr

Last night, my step-mother, Dorothy, told me a thought-provoking story.

 

She was in the fitting room at a major department store, trying on a pair of Spanx. (You know, those slimming under-garments?) In a fit of rage, the belly-slimmer tried to attack her. When it couldn’t kill her by cutting off her circulation, it went straight for her face, trying to block off her oxygen and prevent her from defending herself. Don’t worry – she won. She defeated the Spanks, and save for a little trauma, is just fine.

 

I started thinking about all the awful things I do to myself in the name of beauty. I have several pairs of Spanx (and its competitors). I have the kind that look like shorts. I have the high-waisted, panty kind. I have the tank-top kind, and the kind that covers my stomach but circumvents my boobs. I wear them regularly, like a blood sausage squeezed into intestines.  (Thanks for the visual. Love, Daisy)

 

Flabby tummy aside, I do other, violent things to my body. I use a hair-straightener that has, on more than one occasion, singed my ear, neck, hand, etc. I’ve poked my eye with liquid eyeliner applicators more than I’d care to admit. I used to go to a tanning booth, although now that my days are extended to 30 hours, I don’t have the time to poison myself like I used to.

 

Why do I do this to myself? I’m happily married. Buddy’s stuck with me whether I’m 130 pounds and pretty, or 400 pounds and covered in donut powder. (And he’s admitted to finding me beautiful in the latter state AS WELL AS the former.) I’m confident enough not to base my self-worth off the opinions of other women. I work with tacky teenagers all day who think that formal wear is a pair of dark-wash jeans and a bejeweled belly shirt, so nothing I wear will impress them. I can’t think of one good reason to continue putting myself through this torture regiment.

 

Oh yeah. It’s because I’m vain.

 

What terrible things do you do to yourself to create the illusion of beauty?

 

-Violet

 

The one where Daisy bows down to Violet.

5 Apr

Violet has been in the couponing game for quite awhile. She has also been attempting to school me in couponing for a while. Finally, I decided to give in and attend Violet’s Couponing for Dummies and Those With Short Attention Spansclass.

A few Sundays ago, I had Terry get me a newspaper. I sat down on the sofa with a pile of money saving papers in my lap. I called Violet.

“Ok, I have the coupons in my lap. Let’s get this shit started.”

In true teacher fashion, she ran our discussion like a lesson. She had questions, info, facts. Assignments. To be honest, I was a little frightened. We held our Coupon Sunday classes a couple of Sundays in a row, and finally, it was time for her to turn me loose in a grocery store with my new bright orange accordian file (ugh, it was the only color they had.).

Terry went with me on my first big couponing extravaganza. That was probably a mistake. I was a bit neurotic. I looked like those women in the extreme couponing shows. Before we embarked on the insanity, I sat in front of the computer with my grocery store’s website open. I went through their weekly deals and BOGO’s and compared with what coupons I had, and what I needed. This took me probably 45 minutes. I had a comprehensive list, marked with what items were BOGO or franken-BOGO, (refer to Violet’s couponing-basics post for that explanation) I listed which items I had coupons for, what quantities I needed for the specific coupons. I moved the coupons I was planning to use to a front pocket in my accordian. I was ready. It. Was. Intense.

We walked in, I situated my purse in the baby seat thing in the cart. Put my accoridan file on top, paper clipped my list to the cart, and got down to business.

Terry assumed that this would be like an ordinary shopping trip, grabbing what we needed in whatever order we found it. No. Not so much.

Sorry, honey.

I was militant. Organized. Totally type A. (I’m SO not type A. I so WISH I was type A.)

We made it through the entire grocery store, taking advantage of as many BOGO’s as we could. When we finally got to the check out line, after trying to unload our 2 carts of stuff as quickly as possible, I set up shop in front of the monitor to see my items and savings. I handed over my precious coupons and watched the price drop even more.

I did end up spending more than I usually would on 2 weeks worth of groceries, (but not by much) but I was able to stockpile a bunch of things. Things that we will inevitably USE. Cereal, beef/chicken stock, mac & cheese.

My bill would have been around $550

I paid about $360

The little box on the bottom said

Today you saved: $191

We are so set on non perishables now. I won’t have to do a MAJOR grocery shopping expedition for at least a month, probably more. Unfortunately, produce usually doesn’t have coupons, so a lot of my money went towards that. I was able to take advantage of some franken-BOGOS on produce though.

Planning and setting up my couponing was a bit involved. Was it worth it? Hell yes. Savings are savings. They are even better if you are saving on something you were going to buy REGARDLESS. I look forward to getting a Sunday paper and building up my stockpile of coupons and comparing weekly adds to see how to stetch my money.

I also wanted to share something sort of related to money saving tricks..

Pterodactyl’s birthday is coming up, and I was planning on buying her a cute little slide from Little Tikes. I actually was going to order it today. I found a nice coupon online from retailmenot.com, and the Little Tikes website had free shipping.

The slide was $89.99. I did find it for a little cheaper on other websites, but no one else offered free shipping. Shipping was around $30 on other sites. Anyway, I was out running errands (like one to get the First Husband some cases of diet coke at a great price thanks to coupons lol) and on my way home, I drove by a little thrift store near my house.

What was sitting outside?

The exact slide I was going to get Pterodactyl.

The. Exact. One.

I did a u-turn and parked. I sauntered (yeah right, I fucking ran) to the slide and quickly examined it. The thing had to be used, like, once. Whoever got to play with it before had stuck about 20 stickers to the slide. Other than that, it was perfect. I ran in and asked the lady inside for the price.

She looked over at the slide and said… Get ready..

TWELVE DOLLARS.

“I’ll take it.”

 

I somehow managed to shove the whole thing in one piece into my truck. Got that baby home, brought it inside, and started taking it apart. I laid the slide down on my coffee table, and liberally applied Goo-Gone. Five minutes later, all evidence of the previous owners’ stickers was GONE. I took the entire thing apart, and cleaned every inch of it with antibacterial multi-surface cleaner (so I’m a little crazy about having other people’s germs), and it looks like it just came out of the box.

Not only did I get an amazing deal; I mean, really, $12 as opposed to $89.99?! I also feel as though I did my part to be sort of “green”. Giving a gently used piece of indestructible kid stuff another life, while saving.. what? 85%?

I’m not that great at math, but I do know a good deal when I see one.

-Daisy

Goodbye

1 Apr

Violet and I got into a huge fight and we are shutting down the blog.

 

 

April Fool’s.

 

 

I’m hilarious, aren’t I?

-Daisy

Don’t judge me.

29 Mar

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Please?

-Daisy

Image

Fun with Texting: 03/29/2012

29 Mar

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