Freaks and Geeks

Let me just start off by saying that I'm a pretty smart chick. I was in all of those "gifted" classes, got placed into the high track group in school, always scored in the 99th percentile in those dumb standardized tests. I struggled, sure, through grad school in one of the toughest medical schools in the country--- but I was one of a handful in my class that made it to the end.

But I'm not scary smart. Not the kind of smart that had me running with glee to compete in science fairs. Not the kind of smart that would have me recognized as a contender for the Junior Nobel Prize. I never had the luxury of having to choose between an MD or a MD/Ph.D combo. Nor did I graduate at the top of my class in Harvard, then sleep through medical school, only to graduate with honors. Again. My Friday nights in high school were spent at football games or parties, not playing chess.

No, I leave those things to my husband and his friends. How the hell did I get hooked up with these people?

At home with Hubby, and when we socialize with our friends, I have no trouble holding my own. We all get along, and I always feel like I'm at least their equals, socially. But tonight, I joined Hubby and friends for their weekly Trivia Night at the local pub. Where they compete for cash, people. And tonight, as I sipped my cider and adjusted my uber-hip sweater, I looked around and realized how Hubby and Co. (aka Team Triumph, after Hubby's motorcycle) have been pulling the wool over my eyes. I'm not their equal. No, they were just being nice.

I noticed something was up the moment I walked into the bar. First of all, it was clear that no one in the entire building cared a bit about fashion. Uh uh. Apparantly, they've been too busy discussing quantum physics to watch What Not to Wear. Second, even before the quiz started, the 'small talk' was above and beyond the small talk I would normally make. Also, there was a throng of Trivia Groupies (some were in their 40's and lived with their parents!) that gathered around our table, each person falling over the next to "warm us up" for the quiz--- with questions they painstakingly came up with at home. Questions that were fully researched. And cross-referenced. And the worst part of it was, Hubby and Co. knew Every. Single. Answer.

And I just sat there and sucked on my beer, sticking out hugely in my Nine West Riding Boots.

Once the warm-ups ended, everyone at our table started talking normally again--- gossiping, dishing, the whole bit. And I started to relax a bit.

But then the quiz started. As each question was read, the members of Team Triumph would huddle together, frantically whispering potential answers to each other. At one point, a Free For All question was asked , ("What, in outer space, is furthest away from earth?"), and Team Triumph shouted "QUASARS!!!!"--- and won another round of beer.

Then the next Free For All was read. "What do the following have in common: silver, purple, orange (and some other word that was not a color)?" As I started my mental dialogue, "Okay, silver. Purple....," one of ours guys shouted "They can't be rhymed!" More beers all around.

Okay, Rainman.

And so it went for the rest of the quiz.. I knew better than to say a word, or even to raise an eyebrow. A member of Triumph actually berated me for doing so at the start of the quiz ("The other teams are watching!!! They'll think we're cheating!!! We're only allowed 4 people per team, and you make five!!! You can't play!! No talking! Just sit there and drink--- DON'T EVEN NOD!!!!") Criminey!!!!

In the end, of course Triumph well, triumphed. But not without controversy. Sure enough, another team noticed me sitting there, and raised a stink, insisting Triumph was cheating by using my 'superior intellect.' HA!!! Please!!! After all those free beers, I was half in the bag, people!

And now I must come to terms with the fact that I am married to a nerdy smart guy. A HOT one, mind you, but still. I'm awed and proud of his brain power, and thrilled that he's so far passed it on to at least one son.

But I dare him to challenge me at online shopping. I'd KICK his ASS!!!
Bring it on, Big Guy!!!

Because I Know Brad is Sitting Around Writing About Me...

(I can't believe I'm wasting space on this)

So imagine you've been married for a few years, and you and your husband have openly talked to everyone about starting a family. Then you find out that not only has your husband had an affair with a co-worker, but he's also leaving you for her. And oh yeah, while you were still in the dark, thinking that your marriage was okay, not great, but okay, he was out getting her pregnant. And he's adopting her kids.

Once word gets out, everyone celebrates what a great couple your husband and his co-worker make, and how wonderful it is that they're together. And baby makes family! Adorable!!!

And for some reason, everyone is intent on painting YOU out as the bitch, like a psychotic scorned woman, a desperate shrew who had it coming.

Jesus, could Jennifer Aniston have gone through any greater hell with this guy?

I'm usually interested in celebrity dish, I admit it. I've read my fair share of People magazine (in between Dorothy Parker and Tolstoy, of course).
But they way the press is handling this situation, totally turning it's back on the fact that Brad is an ASS--- just because he's hot--- completely turns my stomach.

Not that I expected anything better from the press, but still....

And on a somewhat different tangent, can I just say I'm not at all surprised that he did this? He and I both were a part of University of Missouri's Greek system (sad, but true), and not to generalize, but his fraternity was notorious for it's achingly beautiful, yet morally bankrupt members who had their fair share of chicks to use and abuse.

Congratulations, Brad Pitt. You did Sigma Chi proud.

A Delay in Our Regular Programming...

Weeeeee! I just spent the ENTIRE weekend in the hospital with one of the twins. All of my kids have contracted RSV, but O's oxygen level was so low that he had to go under an oxygen tent all weekend. I felt so bad for him, and I was so worried about him, that I hopped into the crib and under the tent with him, and snuggled and played all day. The nurses thought I was nuts. Staff that had nothing to do with my son kept dropping in to see the Neurotic Mom in the Tent. What's the big deal??? He was scared, I was worried, the crib was 4 1/2 feet long and could support my weight, and his O2 sat level was 100% with me in there, so why WOULDN'T I go in with him??? Anyway, he's home now, and doing well.

Strange that I felt for no good reason that I should get him in for an ear check on Friday. The nurse walked into the room, heard the Rice Krispies in O's chest, got an O2 saturation level immediately, and off to the emergency room we went. Mother's intuition strikes again.

I feel like after 3 1/2 years of faking it, I've finally been initiated as a mom. Of course, I would have felt the same way if I'd been asked to join a carpool, but the scary, dramatic route is okay, too. Not really. Truly, I was feeling a bit sorry for the two of us until I noticed that the Pediatric Neurosurgery step-down unit was down the hall. Talk about coming back down to reality. I'll take RSV over having to stay with my baby in one of those rooms anyday.

Funny posts to resume later...once I get some sleep and work the kinks out of my back from the "cot" provided for me next to the crib.....

And the Winner of the 2015 Darwin Awards is........

Um, yeah, I think that will be me.

Today, after changing the babes, I was absolutely gagging on the after-smell. Something about pineapple and poop that does not mix.... Anyhoo, a neighbor was stopping by, so I got out the Lysol and sprayed and sprayed with all my might. And then proceeded to walk through the mist. Twice.

Which reminded me of the time in high school when my uber-tough North Jersey pal showed me her first can of pepper spray. It was all little and cute and attatched to her keychain. "Woah," I said. "Can I try it?" She looked at me like I was nuts, but handed the thing over anyway. I was super careful to point the nozzle away from me, then sprayed. Turns out, I was standing in front of a air conditioner, on full blast. Oh, and did I mention this all took place in front of a guy I was trying to impress? He was impressed, all right. I was oh- so- sassy rolling on the floor, screaming with mascara streaming down my face like a river gone wild. Ohhhh yeah.

Brilliant!

I Feel Pretty, and Witty and Wise!

I'm taking a brief vacation from my bed to tell you all how I've spent the better part of the last three days. If you're one who doesn't like sicky stories, stop reading.

All of Monday night, I was crawling-- literally -- too and from the bathroom every 30 minutes, so sick that I made my husband rub my back as I puked. I even didn't mind that I had to take care of "the other end" in his presence. Now that's sick. I'm pretty sure we're never having sex again.

I went to the hospital for fluids, came home in the afternoon, slept and slept some more. I lost track of time and sense of reality. Husband stepped up big time and fixed meals, took care of the kids, and kept me stocked in fluids and magazines. I'll never be crabby when he's sick. Ever.

But the best part (of being sick??) was waking up at some point, just for a moment, only to discover that my three year old had been sitting Shiva next to my bed for some time. I was surrounded by his favorite books, toys, and even his lamby. Right before I drifted off again, he ran into the room with his toy mop and said, "I'll dust the ceiling for you, Mommy. Then you'll feel aaallll better."

God, I love that kid.

Off to puke....

Hello, people! I thought I'd make your Monday a little more complicated by making you search for my latest rant. I started it on New Year's Eve, and finished it today. Unfortunatly, Blogger still listed it under 12/31/05. So if you're at ALL interested ( are you really???), scroll down a little to that day.

BTW, Craziequeen tagged me for another MEME. I'll do it tomorrow, my sassy British friend!

Thanks to Hausfrau, I'm It!!!!

A New Meme for the New Year!

Here's what Hausfrau wants us to do:

Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot.

the weirdgirl
Cynical Dad
Cape Buffalo
Misfit Hausfrau
The June Cleaver Diaries

Select five people to play (but only if they want to).
Anyone out there that still hasn't done this. Are there five of you left???

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago, I was on Christmas break from my graduate school program. My beer swilling-chain smoking boyfriend had just dumped me (well-educated, funny, not smelly) for a 19 year old hostess from the restaurant they both worked at. Hausfrau fielded many a midnight phone call with me sobbing, "But I luurrrved him!"

In other news, my roommates and I had just bid a fond adieu to another roommate, who was leaving school "to rest," after we found a her suicide note and rushed her to the psych ward.

What were you doing one year ago?
Recovering from a c-section and taking turns getting up every 45 minutes with my newborn twins. The nights were awful, but we had a system for the day. My mom and I would each take a baby, my husband would take care of my then 2 1/2 year-old, and my dad was the runner for all of us. We'd mix it up sometimes, but essentially, that's what worked. Until my parents had to go home, of course. Okay, Mom stayed for 4 months, but STILL!!!!

Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Doritos
2. Oreos
3. Chips/salsa/guacamole ( I could live on this alone)
4. Girl Scout Thin Mints (I love the handy single-serving sleeves!)
5. Peppermint Mochas from Starbuck's

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1) "Groove is in the Heart" By D-Light
2) "At Last " By Etta James
3) "It's a Hard Knock Life" (from Annie---- I wanted to be her)
4) "Kappa Delta Song of Dreams (YES!! YES!! I was in a sorority! I admit it!!! Stop shaking your heads at me!)
5) "I Will Follow" by u2


Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Throw up with the anticipation of telling my husband about the cash
2. Pay off those pesky school loans and credit card bills
3. Wear something that has to be dry-cleaned ONLY
4. Gallivant around Europe with friends and family
5. Put a large wad of bills, anonymously, in the mailbox of a friend whose kids get free lunch at school.

Five bad habits:
1. Poor temper control
2. Spontaneously bursting out into song without realizing it (scaaarry)
3. Picking my cuticles
4. Swearing
5. Drinking waaaay too much coffee

Five things you like doing:
1. Sleeping
2. Cooking
3. Reading
4. Snuggling with my kids after their naps
5. Having a beer with friends

Things you would never buy or wear again
1) MC Hammer pants
2) Pink Chuck Taylor high-tops
3) Anything from my Dreary, Wanna Be Siouxsie Sioux Days
4) Pleated khakis
5) Massive, oversized sweatshirts with leggings

Five favorite toys:
1. Sirius Satellite Radio
2. My computer
3. Battery-powered boyfriend (KIDDING)

Sorry--- lost my focus after #3.

So Be Good For Goodness Sake !

The past two days with my three year old have been exceedingly difficult. He's been pushing my buttons right and left, and he's been down right nasty at times. Time outs aren't doing the trick, and beatings are out of the question, so what's a mom to do?

Scooby Doo has been his latest obsession, so after a particularly egregious exchange between the two of us (before I had my coffee! The horror! Doesn't he know?!?!?), I told him Scooby Snacks are gone until he can prove to me he can show good behavior. And manners. And civility, for the love of Joe.

Suddenly, he was the model of perfect behavior. He even covered his mouth when he sneezed and offered his trucks to his brothers. So, silly me, I acquiesced and let him have his Scooby Snacks.

Big mistake. After he swallowed the last one, his head promptly spun around on it's axis several times, and he was back to his old tricks.

So I dropped him off at school and blew off steam by storming through Sam's, snarling "Yes, they're twins!!!!" the whole way through.

Driving home, I was flipping through the stations on the radio, and I paused on the Christian station for a minute. As usual, some preacher was going on about how the Kingdom of Heaven and Eternal Life can be yours, if you follow God's rules and act like a Good Citizen. And suddenly I realized what bothers me about fundamentalist religion, of all types.

And my beef is this:

I don't know if there is life after death, or Heaven, or paradise, or even 40 virgins waiting for me when I die. I'm gambling that none of these things exist, since I'm a science geek, but I'm the first to admit that I have been wrong. At times. But whether or not God or Allah or whomever exists, should we be mindful of following the Golden Rule only if it means getting a reward when we die? Or should being a good person, raising a family of model citizens, volunteering in the soup kitchen, etc., be reward in itself?

In other words, should we "be good" only if it gets us our Scooby Snacks, or should we share, refrain from hitting our siblings and use our indoor voices solely because it's the right thing to do?

I mean REALLY. Suppose all those God fearin' people get to the end of their lives and discover there is no after life? Are some of them going to shake their fists skyward and shout, "DAMN! Think of all the puppies I could have kicked!" I know, they'll be dead, they won't be saying anything. I'm making a point. Work with me, people.

I think we should treat each other with dignity and respect because we should. Period. Any reward is inconsequential to me.

And that's what I want to teach my kids.