Vote now, vote often!

I will present to you two jokes. I will not say anything to bias you one way or another. Just present the two jokes and you, good and faithful reader, need to vote on which is funnier.

Though, if you pick the wrong one, I will pout for a week. Choose wisely.

Joke #1

A duck walks into the hardware store.
"Yes Mr. Duck, can I help you?" asked the hardware man.

"Umm... yes. Do you have any gwapes?" asked the duck.

"You mean grapes? No sir Mr. Duck. This here is a hardware store. We don't sell grapes here. You want the grocery store a block down"

"Okay" replied the duck, "Thank you" and he left.

Next day... same time...duck walks into the hardware store.

"Yes Mr. Duck, can I help you?" asked the hardware man.

"Umm... yes. Do you have any gwapes?" asked the duck.

"Look, I've done told you once. We don't sell grapes here. Now if you come back again, I'm gonna staple your webbed little feet to the floor. GOT IT???" said the hardware man.

"Okay" replied the duck, "Thank you" and he left.

Next day... same time...duck walks into the hardware store.

"YES...MR...DUCK...! CAN...I...HELP...YOU???" asked the very angry hardware man.

"Umm..." said the duck, "Do you have any staples"

"Staples!?!?!?!?" said the hardware man. "You know it's the dangest thing, I just sold my last box of staples to the customer in front of you"

"Okay. SO do you have any gwapes?"

*******************************

Joke #2

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench talking amongst themselves, when a flasher came by. The flasher stood right in front of them and opened his trench coat.

Needless to say, the first old lady had a stroke....

Then the second old lady had a stroke....

And the third old lady, well... she couldn't reach that far.

Shameless self promotion

A while back a kind (and obviously misguided) reader asked if it was possible to subscribe to my blog. So now, along the left hand side of your screen, amongst the About Me section, you shall find a 'Subscribe to' link. However, this is assuming that I did it correctly and the link actually works. I have my doubts because my knowledge about many things is limited and html/linking/blog stuff is especially small (ie. I can type and that's about it). And, according to my Feedburner Stats, I haven't had a single visitor since I added the link about a week ago. Now with the week I've had, that would normally be enough to make me crawl, forgotten and unloved, into a bottle of Captain Morgan. However, you have been kind enough to comment, so I'm assuming, you know...that you're here.

So, if you can get past the fact that I can berate myself and promote my blog at the same time, you can now subscribe* to all of this Fauve-goodness.

*Dependent on link function. Not responsible for the service provided by Feedburner but Owner of this blog is willing to correct any of her own stupid mistakes, where possible. For a limited time only. Void where prohibited. This blog is sold by weight not volume; actual cash value has not yet been determined. May cause dizziness, nausea, insomnia, difficulty breathing, memory loss, and excessive snorting.

Bittersweet

So last Wednesday was the big day. I took the afternoon off work and The Girl and I went to [gasp/sob] Kindergarten Registration. So much blog fodder came from this excursion that it would be difficult for me to decide who to pick on. So, instead, I decided to write about the most important topic, The Girl herself.

For those who have been playing along at home, you know that we here in Fauvetopia have had many interesting problems with The Girl. While most are medical issues, we have had to also deal with her extreme "shyness". Though, I loathe to use that term because it so does not encompass the full seriousness of her issues and I NEVER use that term in front of her and hate it when others do as well. That's one thing I have learned…children will rise to your level of expectation. So if you tell them they are shy, they will be shy. The Girl's are more along the lines of actual phobias which I've mentioned here before; among them, Neophobia (fear of anything new), Ligyrophobia (fear of loud noises), and Anthropophobia (fear of people in general).

And I have to get her to go on a big noisy school bus...full of strangers...by herself… Only so that she can get off and enter a big noisy school…full of strangers…by herself… Though I must say, this school district did wonders with it's registration process. Everything was laid out. Easy for the parents. Easy for the kids. The Girl got a tour of the school, met her teacher, saw the workbooks she'd be using and was given multiple snacks, presents and even a balloon. She did not utter a single word to anyone but me the entire two hours we were there but she only spent the first half hour with her face hidden in my ass and/or leg so we are improving. But the amazing phenomenal blow your fucking mind part? The school tour? She did it on her own.

One of the teachers did the tours in small groups, taking 4 or 5 kids at a time while we parents filled out a stack of paperwork taller then most of our children (WTF?! I swear, when I registered The Boy 11 years ago, all I did was sign my name, his name and hand them a copy of his immunization record). Anyway, the first two times they tried to get her on the tour she whimpered and then hid her face in my lap. In the meantime, when she was left alone, she would stand by herself watching a few other little girls running around and playing. I suggested that she join them but that, of course, was a no go. However, it came time for these other little girls to go on the tour and they were being shepherded out of the room. I asked The Girl if wouldn't she rather go on the tour with the other girls rather then have to go later by herself and she nodded her head yes! Praise Jesus! You could have knocked me over with a feather I was so shocked, but I hid it well and led The Girl by the hand over to the group. I informed the teacher that Girl wanted to join the other girls and then Girl was then surrounded by this gaggle of giggling things. The Girl only hesitated long enough to ask "Are you going to leave?" to which I swore up and down, left and right, and on my very soul that I would not budge from that room and that I would be there when she returned. My daughter then did something that I have never seen her do in her entire life….when the teacher held out her hand to The Girl to come join the group, Girl let go of my hand and took hers. And I watched them walk away down the school hall….

The good, the bad, and me

I was a sleepy girl when I got home Sunday night and work was work yesterday so I didn't get a chance to post (obviously). I had full intentions on touching on each of the items on my list, but you only get one. The others will have to wait for other days this week.

The weekend. While I was properly spanked by The Thing (thanks for the suggestion CC), I'm not going to discuss that. Oh wait. I just did…
We hung out in Annapolis for most of the weekend because I had never been there before. And what a beautiful weekend it was with the weather finally remembering that yes, it is indeed Spring. So Friday we saw a show here and Saturday we drank quite a bit of champagne here. Quite a well-rounded couple, aren't we?

We also celebrated The Thing's 35th birthday, which is actually today. I got him a variety of completely unromantic items, but if you knew The Thing, you would know these were perfect….Most notably, I got him this and this and, of course, I had to get this.

And something else happened over the weekend too, but I don't really feel like writing about it at the moment (ie. Fauve stuck her foot in her mouth. Again. This normal relationship thing is hard to get used to). Okay quick synopsis…Though I had every right to bring up a certain subject because it did indeed need brought up, I handled the situation badly. We all know that I have no clue how to do the 'communication' thing because I never had a partner who did it. It has always been Fauve-learned-to-keep-her-mouth-shut-because-she got-tired-of-being-yelled-at-so-it-was-easier-to-say-nothing-at-all. So I never learned proper communication skills. And now I have someone who actually cares about what I feel and what I have to say…but I have extremely limited capabilites of conveying that information. So...I said something in a way that caused The Thing pain….something I swore I would never do. And never ever want to fucking do again. This was three days ago and we of course talked about it, but yes, I am still kicking myself over it. I feel like crying now just thinking about it. I may have to actually start shelling out the money for therapy. Or just find someone who will teach me how to this. He's so patient with me...but what if his patience runs out? And what if I keep screwing up? Hurting him…of all people...

Quick Fork & Misc. Shit Friday

I have the day off and am actually sending today's entry via The Thing's computer (he's in the shower otherwise I wouldn't be bothering with an entry at all; not that I don't love yinz guys but come on now...)

Since it is Friday, I'd like to spend a special Fork in the Head to loislane's ex-husband who is giving The Paperweight a run for his money in the race for Lousy-Cheapass-Father of the Year award. We should pull our resources and send them to an island somewhere. Is Alcatraz still up for grabs?

Misc stuff to remember to write more about next week:
1. This weekend because it is Thing's birthday weekend and I want to tell you what I ended up giving him for presents. Plus, tomorrow is our 6 month anniversary!
2. I took The Girl to Kindergarten Registration on Wednesday. [sob]
3. The ongoing debate at work regarding my official 'Title'.
4. And last, but certainly not least, The Paperweight's potential to get a new job and his latest money exploits.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Interview me

A new meme...and a very interesting one, IMO, at that. I was 'interviewed' by Used*To*Be*Me

1. If you could be anything you wanted to be, what would it be and why?
When I was growing up, I wanted to be an opera singer. However, I couldn't, and still can't, carry a tune to save my life (I've been known to sing to my children as a form of punishment) so this was never realistic...but if I was given the ability to sing, yeah, I'd probably still chose that.

2. If money were no issue, describe your dream home.
A victorian farm house. This or this would do nicely...

3. What song do you sing the loudest when it comes on?
Midnight Train to Georgia by Gladys Knight and The Pips...greatest song ever written...timeless.

4. If you could get freaky with any movie/music star, who would it be and why?

Why? Um...besides the fact that he's a fucking babe? How about bragging rights too...

5. How did you start blogging and why?
I chose Blogger because it was the only one I knew about because my friend, Jac, uses it. I started a blog myself because it was cheaper then therapy. Still is.

If you want to continue, here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." (and leave an email addy)
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

It's a girl!!

Please welcome
The Girl
4-11-07 at approx. 7:30 pm
38 lbs. 6 oz. and 45 inches long

When I was pregnant with The Boy, I wanted a girl very badly. The sonogram did not show which sex the baby would be so I spent 9 months hoping and praying. God has a funny sense of humor. I spent the next 10 1/2 years learning all things boy. I learned about circumcisions, trains, that worms still live though cut in half, about Power Rangers, farts, shrinkage and all things sports.

Then came the day of my next sonogram in which I discovered that my second born would be a girl. Saying that I was overjoyed is putting it mildly. Gone would be the days of finding frogs in pants pockets and soon there would be days of sundresses, matching purses and tea parties. No longer would I be out numbered or left out. I would have an ally. A partner in crime against all things testosterone.

Enter The Girl.

I learned that you can have an 18 month old's ears pierced but she'll figure out how to take them out, locking mechanisms be damned, if she really wants to do it, until her holes close over.
I learned that you can lead a two year old to a dress but you can't make her wear it.
I learned that you can buy all the tea sets you want but if she'd rather fling the plates frisbee-like at her brother's head then have a party, that's what she'll do.
I learned that helping your daughter progress her fine motor skills only enables her to free herself from the braids, barrettes, and/or ponytails that you so lovingly styled and lets her fling them across the room, out the car window, at her brother's head, or be flushed down the toilet.

I've also learned, that if you are very very patient and very very good and wish very very hard…

I arrived at the end of day last Thursday to pick up The Girl from preschool and found her in a dress. A real honest to God dress. And tights. And patent leather shoes. And a hair band.

So I ask one of the teachers, "Uh, where's my daughter?"

The Girl danced up to me stating that she looked beautiful, which I totally agreed with.
The next day I arrived at the school to find her in her standard issue sweat pants and t-shirt. I kept my disappointment to myself as I swept her up into my arms, at which time she stated, "Daddy said it was too cold to wear a dress today."
Jesus wept!
The weekend was a steady costume parade of dresses (all 3 that she owns, all hand-me-downs from her cousin. I had given up buying dresses more then a year ago) and hair accessories. Saturday night she discovered the wonderful world of barrettes and Sunday she spent watching in the bathroom mirror as I braided her hair. I washed her dresses so that she could wear them to school this week if she chose to do so…which she did.
Then last night…

It happened…

A moment that will live in my memory forever…

The Girl came to me…

And asked me…

If she could paint her nails….

I think I'm going to cry.

I'm such a turd

You know that feeling you get in your brain when you are trying to remember something - be it a song title, an actor's name, or where in the hell you last saw your car keys - but you just can't quite grasp it? It just kind of dances there around the edges of your mind needling you until you just want to whack yourself in the forehead hoping to jog the answer free...Anyway, I had that feeling while I was speaking with you on the phone last night. And as I read your email this morning, my brain finally had that "Aha!" moment and the obvious answer was right before me. "This is Thing, you dumbass," my brain said, "Thing, who loves you and cares for you and wouldn't hurt you for the world. Why didn't you remember that?!"

As much as I hate to admit it, it seems that 6 months in a great relationship with a wonderful man is not long enough to erase the neurosis caused by dealing with a psychotic person for 13 years. Luckily, Thing understands this and loves me still - foot in my mouth and all...

Hello Moto

Okay, so I'm pretty sure I've bitched about this before. It's entirely possibly because I bitch about a lot of things, most pertaining to The Paperweight, but I'm just too damn lazy to search through more then a year of Archives to see. Besides, even if I have bitched about it before, it certainly isn't going to stop me from bitching about it again. So suck it up and deal with it.

I hate cell phones.
With a passion.
Yes, I have a cell phone.
I've had it less then two years though.
Which is two years less then The Boy has had one, actually.
My first cell phone was The Boy's old one. He had bought himself a new one and his old was forced upon me one evening when my car broke down an hour's drive from home and I was several hours late picking up The Boy and he was worried I was dead or something (his words, not mine; melodramatic much?) I broke it though and had to get a new one…only about 3 or 4 months ago, actually. But, like The Boy's, there is no plan. It's one of those prepaid deals so we only put on minutes as we need them. Which for me, isn't very often. I only have to add 100 minutes about ever 3 months or so because my cell phone is FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY (and the occassional dirty text message to The Thing, but that's neither here nor there).

The Boy is quite clear on the understanding of 'emergency'. Missed the bus and need me to pick you up at the school on my way home? Call the cell. You're bored and want to tell me what about something cool you saw on TV? Call my cell and I'll whack you upside the back of the head when I get home. He knows this. He gets this. He's a good boy.

The Paperweight doesn't get this. He's never gotten this. Two years after getting my cell, just this week, I faced this situation:
Me & kids sitting in restaurant having dinner.
My cell phone vibrates.
Me: [wincing as I see Paperweight's name pop on the screen]
The Boy: Don't answer. You know it's something stupid.
Me: The one time I don't answer, it will be an emergency.
Me: [answering the phone] Hello?
Paperweight: [yelling. Something he does on all phones all the time. Annoyance #312] HELLO?!?!
Me: [trying to stay quiet because I loathe people who talk on cells in restaurants] Yes? What do you need?
Paperweight: [yelling louder. He thinks that if you speak softly that means you can't hear him. Retard, I know] HELLO?!?! ARE YOU OKAY?!?!!
Me: Yes. I'm fine. [holding ear piece away from my ear and getting annoyed now] What do you need?!
Paperweight: NOTHING! I CALLED THE HOUSE AND YOU WEREN'T HOME SO I THOUGHT MAYBE SOMETHING WAS WRONG!

Please, let us pause and offer a moment of silence for the death of The Paperweight's last remaining brain cell.
Rest in peace.
Amen.

No, we did not have plans or anything involving the kids in which I was expected to be home at that time.
No, it is not rare that we go out to dinner. We go out at least once a week (I loathe to cook).
No, it is not rare that we leave the house at all. We are out more often then not; one of things that both the kids and I have reveled in since The Paperweight's been gone because he never went out or did anything (hence the name Paperweight. Ah-ha! you say)
So…yeah…time to re-start the "Paperweight's an ass" counter…

AND…
I think I'm going to change my outgoing voicemail message. How does this sound?

Hi! You've reached Fauve's cell phone which is for emergency use only. If this is an actual emergency, please hang up and call back and I'll answer the phone. If this is not an emergency, please call [insert home phone number here]. If you are not 100% sure whether this is an emergency or not, please leave a message after the beep and I'll call you back as soon as possible after I'm done laughing at your stupid ass.

BEEP!

Advertising

Bravo you guys! Thanks for checking out Girlfriend's new blog. And since you were all so willing to listen to me (what were you thinking?) and I'm still working on a long tangent post that probably won't be ready until the end of the week, we'll try it some more. Check out all of my links for some newly added sites, but there are a couple I'd like to highlight.

First, I think you should all go pay Triste & Booby a visit. Besides both being quite witty, the concept of their blog in itself impressed me. Triste & Booby have a long distance relationship but share a blog. (think if Thing joined me here in writing. cool idea, eh? 'cept he'd probably make me quit talking about how fucking good he is in bed and what fun would that be?) And I relate a lot to Triste because she too has an evil ex-husband from hell (who is well on his way to being one of my Fork in the Head Friday winners).

And another plug for Charmed to meet you which is still trying to get off the ground. I actually have one of these on my cell (an adorable pink and silver one) and I get a ton of comments about it. Of course, once they become more popular, I won't be unique anymore and that will kind of suck. Marcia will have to start making me my own special charms that say like 'fuck you' or 'Fork in the head' or something.

And last, but certainly not least, we have Dear So and so...Unsent Letters...Sent courtesy of Thumper. And this, by far, is the coolest fucking thing of seen in a while. Since she's already said it best, I'm just going to copy and paste from the site:

Dear...Everyone It's anger bubbling just under the surface. That guy who cut you off in the parking lot or the idiot who deliberately threw a fist full of french fries out his car window, laughing as they stuck to the face shield of your helmet as you wrestled to keep your motorcycle upright. The Woman in McDonald's screaming at her teary-eyed two year old. The talking head on TV seemingly in need of a proctologist to find his remaining gray matter. It's grief puddling do deeply you're about to drown. The father you didn't get to say goodbye to. The grandparent whose love you miss in tangible ways. The pet who was happy to see you, loved you unconditionally, no matter how bad your mood. It's a missed friend. A lost love. A secret you need to share with someone, even anonymous strangers online. It's the letters you've always wanted to write, but had no where to send them to. Dear So and So... unsent letters, finally sent. You can email them in to writealetter@dearsoandso.com or send them snail mail to K.A. Thompson, P.O. Box 441, Vacaville CA 95687.

Inches and falling

This was the big weekend...The Boy and The Girl's first trip to The Thing's house. Would they like the town? The Thing's house? How would The Thing feel about having kids in his house, his personal space, for the first time? Would this cause him to run screaming in to the night? Would the kids absolutely hate it thereby causing us to rethink all of our moving plans?

Yeah, right...
This weekend was just another chapter in the romantic fairytale of our relationship. The 6-hour round trip drive was not the 15-year-old-bitching-about-my-music-4-year-old-crank-fest that I was expecting. The Girl slept most of the ride down and was an angel on the return trip and it seemed to go faster with having The Boy to talk to. The Girl had a little trouble the first night with homesickness and a little 'strangeness'. She's shy to the 9th degree and loathes change with a passion. Everyone thinks they know what I'm talking about until they actually meet The Girl and only then do they realize the full extent of her quirky weirdness. She once did not let me bathe her for a full week (I had to do sponge baths from the sink) because I had bought a new shower curtain and she needed time to adjust to it's presence. But with The Thing being The Thing, and The Girl being almost as madly in love with him as I am, she adjusted quickly and by Sunday she had made herself at home; even informing him that he needed to get a sandbox for his backyard for her next visit...The Boy asked when our next visit would be before we even backed out of the driveway.

The Thing took The Boy on a drive past the high school he'd be attending, which I took as a good sign that the invasion of his personal space was all in my head. Which, of course, things usually are...all in my head, I mean.
There were quite a few points over the weekend when I would turn my head to see The Thing looking at me so tenderly...so lovingly...and in the background I could hear the kids playing out in the backyard, or The Girl would be hanging off one of his legs (she's fascinated by his feet. don't ask) and I would just think...it does not get any fucking better then this.

************************
Also, Girlfriend has decided she wants to start a blog, so head on over to Inches and falling and give her some encouragement!