Awkward Family Photos

Happy birthday to my totally awesome dad!! His birthday was yesterday, but we celebrated tonight with a nomnom family dinner. A totes lame thing happened while I was there, but I'll get to that in a second. My dad is the world's hardest person to shop for. He's got it all. I found something that I thought was actually kind of cool, a brew-your-own root beer making kit. I also got him card that read "Happy Birthday! Time to shave another llama!" and then on the inside it said something like "Or whatever you do in your culture." My dad was all "Uhhh..." Sometimes people don't get me.

But I love my dad heaps and loads and wish him the happiest of birthdays!!

So, okay. The lame thing. I go over to my parents house with my sick present and awkward card, and I walk in to see my sister Prinna and my mom working the computer. They were making the family Christmas card, and Prinna was all "Oh good! You're here." This can't be good.

This year, my enormous family wasn't all in the same room at the same time very often. And when we were, at least one of us was wearing sweatpants or had bad hair or something. Therefore: no cute photos were taken. So, what do you send out for a Christmas card when you have no picture? You put together a collage.

Our collage looks like this. The photos are arranged in the shape of a Christmas tree. At the top is my mom and dad. Underneath them is one of my sister Padrin and her husband and their two kids. Next to that is a picture of my sister Prinna and her husband and their three kids. Then came my brother Peter and his wife. Right before a picture of my brother Perek and HIS wife was...

A picture of me with my mom.

Wah waaaaaaaah...

Prinna was all "Sorry. What do you want to do?" I looked at the proposed layout. I studied it, thought about it, turned it around in my mind, and came up with a perfect solution. See, I didn't want people to think I am unaware that "one of these things is not like the other". I didn't want to try and trick people. I KNOW I'm the singleton on the Christmas card. I don't have another person to steal half the shot from me, so I wanted to take full advantage.

I had Prinna take the picture off of my mom and me - which WAS lovely, BTW - and replace it with a much more appropriate shot of me. It's me, and only me. At a tailgate in Iowa City. I've got a Hawkeye tattoo on my face and at least a couple beers in my system. Then, I have a nice, long strip of hair across my face. Right under my nose. That's right, people. In our fancy family Christmas card, here's the one I put in for me:

Yup. It's perfect. It says "Happy holiday! I'm funny and independent and would probably look great with a mustache."

Simply Tasteful

Oy vey. So, I got into a little tiff with Geo tonight. It was one of those frustrating, "maintain your composure" things that left me...not wanting to be around men. It was a happy coincidence, then, that I had been invited to a Tastefully Simple party with loads of girls tonight.

Kim picked me up and was all "What's up your butt?" And I was all "Nothing. Men..." She understood immediately and said something like "Good thing we are going to a food-eating party!" She knows me so well.

What IS a Tastefully Simple party, you ask? Only the greatest party EVER. You go to someone's house, the "host" makes loads of crazy-good food that you eat in little bite-sized servings, then you drink wine, chit chat about things like Christmas decorations and Justin Bieber, and that's it! Well, okay, that's not IT. After you're stuffed full of nomnom food, you browse through a catalog of all the food you just inhaled and then you can buy said food.

Guys? I. Bought. Food. Tastefully Simple could make a killing off hosting parties for Girls Who Have Recently Argued With Their Boyfriend because we are a hungry group. I got: 3 beer bread mixes, some pomegranate chipotle sauce thing, a wonder food called "Garlic Garlic" (it's EXACTLY what it sounds like), beer cheese soup, and almond pound cake mix. I'm sure there were a few other things, but it was all ordered in a hazy, food-coma blur so I'm a little fuzzy on the details. I think that's how they "getcha".

Turns out I love parties that revolve around the serving, eating and then ordering of food. It's great fun. It was totally awesome meeting new friends, too. I accidentally took a shot at "people who live north of highway 394" and offended at least two women, though. Me and my big mouth...

Overall, it was a great night. Oh, and who knew you could make bread with BEER?! That's, like, two of the best food groups EVER! I have a feeling that I'll be having a Tastefully Simple party soon. I'll invite you guys, as long as you promise to come hungry...

Have a delicious weekend, everyone!

Dear Crabby...Or Not

Soooo...I had a super great Happy Hour with my friends from my old job tonight. I had nearly forgotten how much I like them. They are all funny and witty and clever and NICE! Plus, there is nothing more comforting than being able to start a sentence with "So, you know how I love Amish people?" and have them all nod knowingly like "Yes, yes, we know...go on..." And it's the first time in weeks I've shared an inside joke with someone other than myself. It was positively refreshing and fun. I'm so glad they still ask me to hang out with them!

I kind of don't want to write a Dear Crabby tonight. I feel kind of bad because I know that literally fives and tens of people need my help solving their dumb problems. I also hate breaking routine, but I really just want to write about my happy hour tonight. Wait, what's that you say? This is MY blog and I can do whatever I want?! Alrighty then! I'm putting Dear Crabby on the back burner this week, because I'd rather talk about my former bosses and friends instead.

I met up with four of my old coworkers tonight: Melissa, Maria, Kathleen and Brad. Three of them were my bosses at some point. And they are STILL willing to hang out with me! Huzzah!

Anyhoozle, we met up in downtown Minneapolis, and as soon as I drove into downtown and saw the skyline, I salivated. Oh how I've missed tall buildings and public transportation! Anyway, I parked, cursed the terrible parallel parkers around me, fed the meter and realized I was totally nervous! Have I changed in the three weeks since I since I worked with them? Has my attitude towards spreadsheets changed at all? Have they found and fell in love with my replacement yet?

The answer to all those questions, of course, is NO. Nothing had changed. I fell right back into the easy conversation and camaraderie that I used to have on a daily basis. I laughed way too loudly and made more than my share of inappropriate comments. Because they have no delusions of who I am, I happily guzzled cheap beer and ate fried food to my heart's content.

I mentioned to them that I sometimes have a hard time fitting in at the new job. I tried to get some sympathy from them, but they would have none of it. They insisted that it'll get easier, and I was reminded that I felt the exact same way when I started working with them. And look at me now! Sharing laughs and drinks with the very same people who used to intimidate me? Taking jabs at the exact same people who used to grade my performance at annual reviews? I could feel that scared, intimidated girl melt away the second I took my coat off.

When I started working with them, I was the picture of politeness. I watched my language and giggled at every attempt at humor anyone pointed in my general direction. It was only when I got real, though, that people started to really warm up to me. I knew I wasn't fooling anyone with my Suzy Happyface routine. I knew it and THEY knew it.

It's a shame that I don't get to see them everyday anymore, but it really makes me appreciate how much I really do like them. It's not like I just happen to see them because we sit near each other and hate the same things. I can look forward to hanging out and chatting about everyone's latest shenanigans.

My favorite part of tonight was finally - FINALLY! - being able to discuss Geo's latest hare-brained scheme and have people automatically side with me. What can I say? I'm a sucker for loyalty...

Anyway, thanks to the awesome friends I was lucky enough to call coworkers, and who are crazy enough to call me for happy hour.

SWF seeks Loads of Stupid Men to Live With

So I watched another episode of The New Girl tonight. I didn't want to, but I did. I got hooked because I have such fond memories of living with dudes. I thought "Hey this show, despite it's many many flaws is a pretty awesome show for chicks who have lived with guys." And I came to a terrifying realization.

I wanna live with guys again.

I do, you guys! I wanna move in with a load of men. I miss my platonic man friendships. I miss being berated for wearing too much jewelry, and being able to make fun of a man for wearing a way-too-deep V-neck shirt.

Mostly, I miss being a bystander in a Man Conversation. "Should I shave tonight?" "How much cash should I bring on this date tonight?" "Do you think she'll care if I wax my eyebrows?"

The brain of a man is horribly fascinating place and I like being in there. There's no talking, no non-verbal cues, no nothing. All you have in a group of men is your wit and your thick skin. As a a woman, it proves to be an exciting challenge. The typical girl drama need not apply.

I miss stepping up my game. I miss weighing silence with thoughtful digs. Or using suggestive sweatpant-placement to achieve the doing of dishes. Or tossing my hair at just the right second when discussing feminism. Mostly, I miss knowing that I have earned my way into being an equal.

I live with a guy now. Sort of. He is the very serious boyfriend of my friend who owns this house. He tries to give me crap...but it doesn't have the same effect on me. It's more like "I wish you weren't here. Get out." Even when I make cookies or brownies or insist on watching golf on Sundays, I can't seem to win him over. I don't know where I'm going wrong, but I'm out of my element.

So, basically, I'm taking applications to live very low-maintenance men who enjoy the company of a witty, pseudo-opinionated young woman. Any takers?

Curly Sue

Let me paint a picture for you. My hair is as curly as uncooked Creamette spaghetti. Meaning: it is decidedly NOT curly. It lays flat on my tiny head and in the humid summer months, the split ends just frizz up and I look like a homeless (caveless?) cavewoman. That's as "curly" as it gets.

I've tried everything to have curly hair, short of getting a perm. I've used hot rollers, full cans of hairspray, small-barreled curling irons, large-barreled curling irons, a diffuser, curling gel, curling shampoo, curling prayers, everything. And if I manage to get the slightest wave in my hair, it falls flat the second I leave the bathroom. All that work for nathan...

Then Claire gifted me with some curlers (and by "gifted" I mean "she was going to give them away to Goodwill and I snagged them from the pile"). She's all "Oh yes, take them! They are miracle curlers! I got two sets, so you can take this one." So, I squirreled them away in my room with the other stuff I've gotten/stolen from Claire.

Last night, I got the urge to take 'em for a spin. My first impression when I opened them was "Oh. Ew. They're tampons."

Unsure, I quick showered and prepped my hair. Then I brought the "curlers" down to Claire to make sure I had the right package. She sighed and sat me down on the floor. "Tampons? Really, Pharon? Are you eight-years-old? Yes, Pharon. These are curlers. We'll put them in your hair and you'll wake up with curly hair."

Yeah, we'll see about that...

So Claire wraps my wet hair around all the tampons curlers. I looked at myself in the mirror when she was done and said "I look like an elderly Annie." But, I went to bed anyway. It took roughly 37 minutes for me to get in a comfortable position because I didn't want to smoosh the curlers. Sure the curlers are super soft and spongy, but the only thing worse than no curls is flat, misshapen curls. Amiright ladies!?

Cut to 6 1/2 hours later. I pried myself out of bed and distractedly checked my email before remembering the curlers. I was so excited I didn't even get up to put my contacts in. I blindly started to unravel the Tampax. I immediately deflated. My hair felt as light and fluffy as it had the day before. I went into the bathroom, put my contacts in, and screamed.

Over night, I had morphed into Jennifer Grey from Dirty Dancing. But, like, HOT. I jumped up and down with pure glee. And my hair bounced right along with me. It was even TOO curly. After I finished bopping around the bathroom, I realized that I almost looked like I had a wig on. I had to kind of tamper down the curl. I got it looking pretty Hollywood-ish when I realized "Don't get too attached to this hair, Pharon. These curls will be totally unraveled by the time you finish making your coffee."

But. It. Stayed. Curly.

Here's how my hair looked after a long day at work, a stressful trip to the car dealership and a long, drawn-out trip to Target. Also, it was freezing and windy all day which didn't help anything. But here it is:

STILL. CURLY. So yeah, Claire's miracle tampon curlers RULE. I will be doing them loads more. The only thing is that I think I got sick from sleeping with wet hair in a cold room. Whatever. Totally worth it.

Glitter, Shopping and a Wolf Sweatshirt

So many more projects done this weekend! Claire and I had another Club Project day yesterday (she's threatening to take away Club Project days because I keep calling them Project Craft days all the time). This week, we had to prepare by going to IKEA.

No one doesn't love IKEA stuff.

Sure it's crazy-hectic and crowded in that store, but you can buy and eat French toast sticks while browsing through the lighting section, and mama likes to eat and shop.

Anyway, so we got loads of fun stuff for Club Project. We were getting ready to check out when we realized how long we had been there and were running late. I concluded that I would go through the self-checkout lane, because I'm a speedy checker-outer. But the combination of my large items I was purchasing, the complete lack of available bags, and a real plant for my desk and I ended up nearly breaking some jars I bought and standing in an inch of dirt from my upside-down plant.

Whatever, we finally got home and heeeeeeeeere are the final products!

Glitter candles! Double-stick tape! These were insanely easy and turned out really well.

Then I had to get a white scarf. Claire and I originally went to a fabric store because I was going to attempt to MAKE a scarf, but the cocky fabric store lady said "Oh honey, it'll be much easier if you just BUY a scarf. Seriously." Rude woman...

But I bought the scarf and wrote some braniac beat poetry on it from Jack Kerouac...

And voila! Totally awesome scarf!

By the end of the afternoon, I was pretty sure I was high off the marker fumes and didn't quite make it to our last project. The whole reason we WENT to IKEA was for this:

I'm going to turn it into a very elaborate and enormous jewelry holder. It's going to be adorable.

So yeah, I worked really hard this weekend. Oh, and I shoveled not once but TWICE last night. Such a busy bee...This morning I couldn't be bothered to change out of my "work" clothes.

I sent that picture to Geo this morning and he texted back, and I quote, "MY EYES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Nice guy, right?

Anyway, I guess that concludes this photo tour of my weekend. I am going to finish cleaning the glitter from my sweatpants. Laterzzzz!

Hey Kids! Get Off My Internet!

I've got my panties in a bundle, dudes. I'm SO annoyed today. I've vented about parenthood before and I'm afraid I'm going to do it again. BEWARE!

Before I get ahead of myself in my ranting, I want to say this: I'm obsessed with my nieces and nephews. I'll do anything to protect them. Anything. I absolutely adore children and the concept that they are, you know, our future. Okay, so the kids I DON'T know annoy the crap out of me, but that is almost completely irrelevant. Kids are little, spongy brains who rely on taller people to tell them what to do. But where, exactly, is the line?

I have been a longtime fan of STFU Parents. It essentially points out the ridiculousness of people who dominate our Facebook feeds with news of their young ones' pooping habits. Sure there are other issues, but that's totally the most disturbing to me.

Anyhoozle, tonight STFU Parents featured, for the first time, a crazy parent ON PINTEREST. PINTEREST! My dear, dear baby! All of a sudden, overzealous parents are all trying to squash the freedom on Pinterest now! This is, to be blunt, really effing not okay with me. Here's a link to what I'm talking about: Fun Hater.

For starters, that picture is HIIIIILARIOUS. I lol'd. But then people have to ruin it for me by being all "Hey, my kids read this! Watch your language!" GUH!

I didn't hear my first swear word until I was in 2nd grade. I remember a 6th grader named Robin said the word "Goddamn" on the playground and I almost pooped my pants. I have no idea how I KNEW it was a bad word, but I knew. My parents have never allowed swear words in our house. To this day, I check my potty mouth at the door. The point is, my parents didn't go over to her parents house and discuss, at length, what impact Robin's swearing had on me, and request that they change their language so that I wouldn't be tainted with her cursing.

No, my parents taught me that swearing was basically rude and against the rules. And because I'm not always a quick study, I ate my share of Dial soap in my day. When I got to college, though, I learned that "we must learn the rules before we can learn to break them with purpose". Meaning: I can spit out World's Most Effective Swear Word when necessary. So, Robin had no effect on me whatsoever other than to provide a clever story on a blog.

The reality is that I censor myself online. But I censor myself because I'm pretty sure my parents would still love to wash my mouth out with soap if I said something crass. I do NOT censor myself because other people's CHILDREN may or may not stumble onto my musings. It is simply not my job to teach a child about appropriate language.

See, Robin wasn't in charge of me, and I'm not in charge of other people's kids. There are loads of places kids don't belong when it comes to the Internet. Facebook, for instance. Or, you know, Google or whatever. Hey parents? Guess what! You CAN stop your children from being on sites you don't like. I mean, I don't know how you go about doing that, but I'm told it's possible.

Meanwhile, I just had a conversation with my sister Padrin. Her 12-year-old daughter has been on Pinterest, so I asked what she thought. She said - and this was music to my ears - "I tell my kids they will hear and see lots of things that aren't appropriate. They can hear it but they can't say it. I can also not put them in situations where I know there's going to be lots of stuff that I don't want them to see, but that's up to me."

Then I told Padrin to kiss my a$$. :)