Thursday, May 26, 2011

My Oprah Glass is Half Empty And I Never Knew It

I don't believe I'm about to say this: I'm not going to miss Oprah now that her show isn't on.

WAIT! DON'T LEAVE ME! I didn't even realize this until just now!

In fact, until I thought up this little ditty of a post I never really gave much thought to the fact that I (gasp) don't particularly love Oprah.

Admittedly, I haven't watched her that much. The fact is, I've always been working (or in school) when her show is on. Simple as that.

However, I did go on maternity leave 3 times...and might have caught a few dozen Oprah episodes. So after 25 years, here is what I know about Oprah, and a nugget or two that I learned from her show - right off the top of my head.
  • Oprah gave a lot of money to charity and built a girl's school in Africa. I'm getting that out of the way now. I know she's been an inspiration to millions of people. She is rather awesome. 
  • Oprah has very big diamond earrings. They are bigger than my eyeballs. Can't-stop-staring-at-the-earrings.
  • She also has a "va-jay-jay." And so does my daughter thanks to learning that colloquialism from a schoolmate evidently. 
  • I don't remember much, but I do remember the Dr. Oz belly fat segment. Thank God for purple plastic gloves. 
  • Oprah changes her sheets every day. She said this on an episode about saving the environment when the guest suggested than people don't need to wash their sheets more than once a week. I thought this was completely obnoxious to the point that it really pissed me off because you knoooowww that woman doesn't change her own sheets or most likely pee the bed. 
  • Oprah loves dogs. I love dogs. But her dogs are fussy little spaniel dogs. And I bet you $100 she's never scooped the poop. Oprah? Do you scoop your own poop? Feel free to leave your reply in the comments section Oprah. 
  • I was sick a few months ago and she had some family on that was BFFs with Michael Jackson. They had photos of him in pajama pants and a sports coat. Thank you Oprah for solidifying my belief that MJ was a nut job.
  • I heard once that her parents really meant to name her "ORPAH" (rhymes with Orca) but there was a typo on her birth certificate. And now in my head I subconsciously think of her as "Orpa." I can't help it. Also, I've never Googled this tidbit so I could totally be quoting a bunch of crap. Either way, both of those names suck. 
  • I accidentally stole an Oprah magazine from my sister-in-law a few months ago. It's sitting in our bathroom...I think Ryan reads it. Oprah is on the cover wearing sandals and her toes are all jacked up. Oprah needs to fire her stylist. 
  • Oprah gives away a lot of stuff to audience members. Seriously, she gives away too much stuff to all the people at ONE show. You think maybe some other audience members might have liked some free Oprah swag??? This is excessive and totally drives me nuts because I always root for the little guys. 
  • A bunch of cattle farmers sued her once. I have no idea who won. 
  • I think Oprah's editors are personally responsible for Tom Cruise's demise.
  • Dr. Phil & Dr.Oz. Both are completely wacky, but surprisingly fun to watch. I'd like to see the two of them in a cage match. 
  • Gail has a good thing going. Talk about hitching yourself to the right wagon. Did you ever see the episodes with the road trip? Me either, but the commercial looked funny. 
But honestly, there is ONE THING that I learned on Oprah that I have incorporated into my own life. I have always said is the best statistic I've ever heard. It's from 2006 (when I was on maternity leave)

Americans use 6 paper napkins per person a day. If we each cut down by just one napkin a day we'd save 1,000,000,000 (yes, that's one billion) pounds of paper waste a year. (from Elizabeth Rogers, author and mom who cares about the environment)

Now we use cloth napkins And I dugggg through Oprah's website to find it for you: Here's the Show With The Napkin Stat

The stat isn't on this link, but it's got a lot of good info so I thought I'd share it: Other Good Stuff from the Oprah Site

OK, who hates me?

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

From Hot to Something That More Resembles "Sweaty"

A bunch of the ladies from some of the blogs I follow decided to do a link up called "I was a Senior Hottie."

Yep out there in the blogisphere there are a bunch of mostly moms posting pictures of themselves from their Senior year of High School. In my case that means 1993. 

I made a pilgrimage to my dad's yesterday to dig out this little gem. I scanned the entire portfolio from the photographer for your viewing pleasure. Frankly, I don't think I look that different. I've got some spots on my face. My hair has changed to a few different styles, but it's BACK to this one (minus the bit of hairspray I have in my bangs.)

But to change the challenge up, I've made captions with a few of the things that 1993 Ali might have said and responses from 2011 Ali. 



1993 Ali 

2011 Ali Says: Ah, cute 1993 Ali. You're never going to get a convertible. It's 2011 and you drive a minivan with dog hair and school papers all over it. Not to mention, you have to PAY for it. Your Maxima was free a la dad. You pay a lot for this minivan. Oh, and by the way, it has three child seats in it and your cup holder currently houses matchbox cars and a plastic bunny. However, it does have a DVD player (you don't know what this is because it hasn't been invented yet), but you're gonna love it because it's gonna teach your kids the ABCs and keep them quiet on road trips. 

And in case you haven't figured it out (seeing that you're a C/D student and not that bright) you have kids. Three of them.


1993 Ali

2011 Ali Says: Yeah...you know that boyfriend? You're gonna marry him alright. And because of this, your kids are going to be blond. You totally love him still. He's the best. But you know that football thing? He's an accountant. And you know that Marky Mark thing? Yeah...I think there may still be some abs in there, but they're under a rather large belly that is the product of late night Oreo-fests. Don't worry. You don't look so hot yourself so nobody looks at you like "how did that fine chick get stuck with that guy?"



1993 Ali

2011 Ali Says: Don't get so attached to "Contrampo" kid. It goes out of business. However in 2011 you'll be buying most of your clothes at Costco because you can't take a trip to the mall by yourself. You carry your new clothes home in a cardboard box that also contains a 10 pound bag of rice and a 2-pack of weed killer. 


1993 Ali

2011 Ali Says: Hold on 1993 Ali, I need to stop laughing at you for a minute. Yes dear, they do grow. They get really big. So big you'll stand in front of the mirror and think to yourself "where have you two beauties been all of my life?" But then...poof! They're gone and here's the clincher: They're smaller than when you started out. Whoever told you that fed you a load of B.S. 


1993 Ali


2011 Ali Says:  Wait a minute. I'm still laughing at you over the boob thing...First off, you're doing the families you're NOT babysitting for a service. You suck with kids. However, you might as well enjoy getting paid to watch kids now. Some day, you're going to have to pay someone several hundred dollars a week to watch yours during the day. Then they're all yours at night. And some nights they throw up. And every night they poop. And need a bath. And have to be fed. And then on some days (certainly not all)...you secretly wish you were all at home together so you could watch them for free. 

I miss 1993 Ali. 

And if you're new here...I certainly wouldn't mind having a few new blog followers...hint hint. This is Needy 2011 Ali talking. 


Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Guess What! ...and there's video

This conversation actually took place. A mere two nights ago. Really...

...after Justin had been in bed for 15 minutes and I settled in to watch my DVR'd Timberlake / Lady Gaga SNL episode (YES, you're right, that is a very big deal, thanks for pointing that out).

___________________________________________________________

Justin (from his room: "Mom!"

Me from my room across the hall: "Go to sleep Justin!"

Justin: "MOM!!!"

Me: "I'm not coming in there Justin!"

Justin: "MOMMY!!!"

Me: "NOOOO!"

Justin (screeching): "MOMMMMMMMMMM!"

OK, this was serious. So I leaped out of bed, dashed in heroically, throwing the door open with reckless abandon to rescue my child who was obviously being attacked by one of the monsters in his closet.

Me: "Are you OK?"

Justin (uninjured): "Mommy, guess what!"

Me: "What?"

Justin: "Chicken butt."  ****wait, did this kid just get me on the old 'chicken butt joke?****

Me (attempting to be stern): "OK. Yes, Chicken butt. Go to sleep Justin."

Justin: "Mommy, guess what!"

Me: "What?"

Justin: "Chicken butt." ****yes, you'll notice I did fall for it twice****

Me: "I love you. Goodnight."

Justin (hysterically laughing): "Mommy I say CHICKEN BUTT."
One of these kids thinks he's a freakin' riot. Guess which one. 

And for our viewing pleasure, I got him to recreate it last night.


video


Seriously, this kid has a future in comedy, doesn't he. Anybody know any good agents?

Thursday, May 19, 2011

And From Now On, We'll Call Him...

I've had something weighing heavily on my mind for quite some time. Yes, it's one of those keep-me-up-at-night, socially relevant, life altering decisions. It's very serious.

How am I going to refer to My Husband in my blog?

Whew! It feels good to finally get that out in the open. Although it still seems kinda undeserved for me to refer to myself as a "blogger" yet, I noticed long ago that many bloggers don't refer to their family members by their real names.  Lots don't name their kids either...although I do...except Piggy Ponies (her nickname for today) because it's so fun to just nickname her.

Most refer to their husband as "The Hubs" or "Hubby," names which I've grown sick of for various reasons...mostly, they are so overused. Hello Facebook! One of my favorite bloggers refers to her husband as blog-Stedman which I think is genius. I love it. But I'm not that cool.

I'm asking myself this because God forbid, some day, someone might Google My Husband and come across my blog with all of those unattractive photos I plan to keep posting of him.

After several long seconds (yes, seconds) of deep contemplation, it occurred to me. "If I could be married to the perfect man, who would it be?"

It took me no time to come to the conclusion that my ideal husband is Jake Ryan.


Let's think about this. The guy drives a sports car, he's rich, he's sensitive, he released a dork from under his coffee table and he STILL dated someone who wore red polkadot panties. He's quite possibly the world's most perfect man although he's theoretically still in high school. I bet he married Samantha.

I know, I'm in line behind several million other 30-something year old women. And I'm OK with that...since he's fictional.

Seriously, if he had shown up in his sports car at MY OWN wedding, I'd have gotten in the car with him.


I *heart* Jake Ryan and I have a t-shirt to prove it.

This is not to be confused with just plain "Ryan" who is my kid. Coincidence, I promise. Maybe I'll put the two names together like this: JakeRyan.

By the way, if you Google "Jake Ryan" most of the images that come up are from Hannah Montana. I've had a bone to pick with those writers ever since I learned of this vicious naming mishap. Could they not have come up with a different name? That name is sacred. SACRED I TELL YA! Seriously, look at that dork!




And why is this great???  Because from now on I can say that my husband is Jake Ryan. Isn't JakeRyan cute?

Sunday, May 15, 2011

This Would Probably be Illegal, Right?

This isn't a post about my personal e-mail getting hacked Friday night and me sending Viagra ads to everyone in my address book alphabetically. I cannot in fact "solve all your problems" although I'd try, I promise. I'm still traumatized.

As a result of the Erectile Dysfunction Spam Calamity of 2011 (this is what I'm calling it, if it's too long leave suggestions in the comments section), I was going through my inbox and found this old email from Ryan's kindergarten teacher about that day's journal entry along with the following message:

May 28, 2010
Too cute not to pass on! What kind of business are you running at your house?!? Lol


Evidently, he was supposed to write about what he did that weekend and his response was:
"I made a wine and smoothy stand last nite. I even got a smoothy."

Yep, that's my little entrepreneur. I especially like the part about "I even got a smoothy." So while his parents were making him sell wine from a stand in front of the house, at least they were nice enough to let HIM have a smoothie too.

Disclaimer: His Aunt Lisa had picked him up the night before and supposedly took him to the Japanese Hibachi place...hmmm. I guess we'll never know what really happened...



Wednesday, May 11, 2011

One of the Guys

After failing miserably at yet another dinnertime pissing match with the most stubborn 2-year-old on the planet, I walked back out to the front porch to find my husband (who had come in from doing yard work in the rain) and his wing man Ryan trying to get him to eat chicken parm.

Daddy: "... SO Justin if you want to be one of the guys you have to eat your chicken."

Me joining in: "Hey, I'm one of the guys too!"

Ryan: "Mom! You can't be one of the guys!"

Me: "Why not?"

Ryan: "Because you're a girl."

At this point my husband jumps in to clear up a common misconception.

Daddy: "Ryan, you don't actually have to BE a guy to be 'one of the guys,' but Mommy is definitely NOT one of the guys."

Then I walk up behind Ryan and give him one of those big special Mommy hugs that I'm so good at.

Daddy: "And NOT being one of the guys is OK too Ryan."

Ryan (in his best phony, sweet, brownie points voice): "Mommy, you're always soooo warm and snuggly. I love to snuggle with you."

Daddy (shaking his head in disgust): "You see Justin. That's how you LOSE one of your guys. Happens all the time. Nice moves Ryan."

I walked away and came back to them flexing their muscles. So manly.

As an aside: If anyone can diagnose what's wrong with my kid's face, let me know. It seems to only happen when there's a camera around.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

We Know Who Wears the Plastic Tiara in this Family

Sometimes I attempt to be like a normal mother.

"Who wants a story?" I offered to the kids although I knew Ryan would vehemently object to being subjected to yet another Princess story.

"Meeeee!" replied Her Highness (her nickname for today) as she pranced over and sat down next to me.

From her Disney Princess story collection we opened up to a Cinderella story, My Perfect Wedding.

I read the first line and was promptly interrupted by Her Highness.

"I'm thaaaat one.. and that one and Cinda-Rella," she said pointing to the two girl mice and of course, Cinderella. My girl is a bossy little thing. No book or TV show can be enjoyed in our house anymore without this child staking claim to who SHE wants to be. 


And for the record, it's usually someone blond, never anyone ugly or God forbid a BOY. For instance on Glee she always gets dibs on being Quinn and because I have brown hair she declares me to be Rachel.

"Fine," I say to her. "Justin, who do you want to be?"

"I be da bo-ee."

"OK, Justin. You can be the boy."

"And Ryyyy-an will be my prince," Her Highness includes glancing at her brother not really giving him an option to object.

"WHAT???" Suddenly, Ryan has interest in this story because tonight he isn't aspiring to be royalty.

"No, I'm going to be the third Little Pig." (Huh? Were we even talking about that story???) "Let Justin be the Prince."

Her royal retort: "NO Ryan, you HAVE to be the Prince because the Prince is bigger than Justin...and the Prince is 7."

What a coincidence. The Prince is 7 and so is Ryan. Sucks for you Princey Poo.

Now it's important to note that while he didn't want to be a lame prince, he had no problem playing with his sister's girlie Squinkies...

So I get back to the next line of the story when Her Highness jumps up and puts on her Cinderella dress. Might as well dress the part.  She returns.


By now Justin has decided that he too is going to wear a princess dress. And of course I go fetch my camera because cross-dressing 2-year-olds are the makings of a good blog post.

Her Highness suggested that he should be one of the Ugly Stepsisters. She was SOOOO right. Those firetruck pajamas totally clash with that dress.


Soon Ryan expressed his disapproval and Justin took off the dress.

According to Her Highness, this lady is "allergic to bees." Where does she learn this stuff? By now I've read about two pages.

"Mom." She chimes in again. "When we're done let's read Ariel because I like her red hair and Justin likes her bra."  I knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out that Ariel had on a bra made of shells. In fact I've often wondered why Disney didn't just put her in something more conservative like a tank top...

"Can I please finish the story???"

But by now it was a lost cause. Justin has left the room and Ryan is still indignant about the thought of being his sister's prince.

"Where's my blankie?" Oh no. Justin's blankie is still wet in the washer and it's 15 minutes until bedtime. I rushed downstairs to move the laundry along.

"I'll finish reading the story!"

"Thanks Ryan!" He might not be Prince Charming, but he's a wonderful big brother. 

Then I came back and we took a group photo. I know, I look hot.

Monday, May 2, 2011

"I'll Have the Royal Chicken Tenders, Please"

I've been a little obsessed with the Royal Wedding...In our case, Burger King is about as close to royalty as we're going to get. At least someone enjoyed it.