that annoy me.... part i of what may become a series.
first off, let's just get this out there. i like pinterest a lot. it has inspired many recipes, home decor ideas and they-will-never-happen-but-i-can-totally-dream photoshoots and birthday parties. pinterest has helped motivate me to clean, organize and decorate when i might have otherwise laid on the couch. for that, thank you, pinterest.
it is not without its faults, however, and today i will highlight one that particularly annoys me.
i very much dislike when people pin memes that are supposed to be inspirational (i guess?), and (1) they are so obvious you wonder why anyone wasted the time to create one, let alone re-pin it and/or (2) they have a glaring grammatical error on them.
picture a pin of a young girl with mascara streaked cheeks. the picture is in black and white and there's an artsy font below her that reads, "the one who's worth it won't make you cry." like COME ON, are you kidding me? you needed to pin that so you won't forget? i mean, it's kind of obvious that you should strive to date a guy who isn't a complete asshole, right? do you need to pin that reminder to a board?
or a picture with the same girl only now she's looking into a mirror, studying her reflection and the font reads, "you're worth it." or maybe it reads "your worth it" (see #2 above). i think that's great. i believe you are worth it... i just think it's silly to pin that stupid picture.
i am all about re-pinning delicious appetizer recipes and time-saving cleaning techniques. i love me some pictures of adorably decorated nurseries and kids' rooms. i can get behind pictures of esty prints with inspirational quotes on them (provided they don't violate #'s 1 or 2 above). but i just beg you, people of the interwebs: give up your obsession with these horrible memes.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Porkloin du gym bag.
this post might appropriately fall into the "you had to be there to appreciate it" type stories, but i'm sharing anyway.
last night something funny happened in the kitchen.
when i got home, john was cooking dinner. (that was not the "funny" part; john cooks most of the dinners in our house.) when i walked on, there were potatoes boiling on the stove, gravy prepping in a pot, corn on the counter, and a porkloin in the oven. i went upstairs to change clothes and when i came back, john asked if the porkloin smelled weird.
i opened the oven and sniffed, but between the heat burning my nostril hair and the rampant pregnancy hormones, i didn't feel like i could really give an accurate analysis. "did it smell weird when you opened it?" i asked. "i don't know," was the response.
so, we continued prepping dinner and soon enough the porkloin was done. john retrieved it from the oven, let it cool and then sliced into it. he took one bite and it was apparent that even though we were within the sell-by date, the eat-by date had clearly passed us by.
the smell of the porkloin permeated the kitchen, and my nostrils were filled with the aroma of my husband's gym bag. what? ball-sweat-porkloin isn't a delicacy at your house? we were both staring at each other, wondering what we could quickly whip up to salvage this situation, when i exclaimed, "ok, get that thing out of here. it's HORRIBLE." john wrapped up the porkloin and took it out to the trash can in the garage.
when he came back, he had the look of a man determined. "i'm going to turn this into a dinner you will love," he said. and with that, he set about making a real "dubuque original," as he described it. 7 minutes (or so) later, we were enjoying...
image from here.
open-faced turkey sandwiches. they were delicious. and while john lamented the porkloin, i reminded him that this was exactly the sort of material we needed to gather to laugh about when we're 75.
last night something funny happened in the kitchen.
when i got home, john was cooking dinner. (that was not the "funny" part; john cooks most of the dinners in our house.) when i walked on, there were potatoes boiling on the stove, gravy prepping in a pot, corn on the counter, and a porkloin in the oven. i went upstairs to change clothes and when i came back, john asked if the porkloin smelled weird.
i opened the oven and sniffed, but between the heat burning my nostril hair and the rampant pregnancy hormones, i didn't feel like i could really give an accurate analysis. "did it smell weird when you opened it?" i asked. "i don't know," was the response.
so, we continued prepping dinner and soon enough the porkloin was done. john retrieved it from the oven, let it cool and then sliced into it. he took one bite and it was apparent that even though we were within the sell-by date, the eat-by date had clearly passed us by.
the smell of the porkloin permeated the kitchen, and my nostrils were filled with the aroma of my husband's gym bag. what? ball-sweat-porkloin isn't a delicacy at your house? we were both staring at each other, wondering what we could quickly whip up to salvage this situation, when i exclaimed, "ok, get that thing out of here. it's HORRIBLE." john wrapped up the porkloin and took it out to the trash can in the garage.
when he came back, he had the look of a man determined. "i'm going to turn this into a dinner you will love," he said. and with that, he set about making a real "dubuque original," as he described it. 7 minutes (or so) later, we were enjoying...
open-faced turkey sandwiches. they were delicious. and while john lamented the porkloin, i reminded him that this was exactly the sort of material we needed to gather to laugh about when we're 75.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
on keeping it real.
i am in trial this week. which means i am a HUGE BITCH (in general), my office is an atrocious mess (much like my kitchen - which i totally do not have the energy to clean right now) and i have to choose between going over my exhibits again or showering.
and then i am hit with the realization that i skipped the shower this morning. and i must shower tomorrow. because that is the PROFESSIONAL thing to do.
today i was locked (not so much literally, but definitely figuratively) in a conference room preparing my client for trial for over six hours. yes, you read that right. without a break for lunch. which means that by the time i emerged from that swampy room, starving, defeated and feeling beyond nauseous, i had to spit in a cup on the way to the restroom (literally, not so much figuratively) to keep from throwing up right then and there.
it is all in the name of JUSTICE, however.
which brings me to my next point: where is the justice in denying me independent wealth such that i could spend all day snuggling with my sweet baby boy and watching downtown abbey? TRAVESTY. GRAVE INJUSTICE.
and then i am hit with the realization that i skipped the shower this morning. and i must shower tomorrow. because that is the PROFESSIONAL thing to do.
today i was locked (not so much literally, but definitely figuratively) in a conference room preparing my client for trial for over six hours. yes, you read that right. without a break for lunch. which means that by the time i emerged from that swampy room, starving, defeated and feeling beyond nauseous, i had to spit in a cup on the way to the restroom (literally, not so much figuratively) to keep from throwing up right then and there.
it is all in the name of JUSTICE, however.
which brings me to my next point: where is the justice in denying me independent wealth such that i could spend all day snuggling with my sweet baby boy and watching downtown abbey? TRAVESTY. GRAVE INJUSTICE.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
"you better stay home."
sick of feeling... so sick... all day and every day, i decided to make a pit stop at hartig's on my way to work this morning. i brought my saltine's, lemon drops and copious amounts of vitmain B6 to the register to check out, and the clerk looks at everything, glances at me dressed in my courtroom best and says, "honey, if you have the flu, none of this is going to work. you better stay home."
my thoughts exactly!
my thoughts exactly!
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