Haters

I'm a San Diego Chargers fan.

A season ticket holding, want to name my first born after the star player, Chargers fan.

We admittedly have our ups and downs. However, we've played some very good football lately. So good in fact that this Sunday, we go up against the one team that has gone undefeated this season. We are playing to go to the Superbowl. We are playing to win.

No one thinks the Chargers can win. Nobody except the fans. I believe anything is possible. I'm looking forward to the game for the POSSIBILITY of a win. It's exciting. It's fun. It's why I watch football.

I don't understand why people insist on trying to bring me down by telling me all the reasons the Chargers CAN'T win this weekend. I know the odds are heavily in the other teams favor. I know we have injuries. I know there is the POSSIBILITY we will lose. But that is all it is. A POSSIBILITY. As a fan I have HOPE. CAN'T isn't a word I allow in my vocabulary. It's a word I won't use for my team either.

You can have whatever opinion you want. But why would you stop a stranger on the street (or gym) to tell them there isn't any way their team can win?

Try saying something nice, or neutral. You might find that it feels good to get a smile out of someone instead of a heavily furrowed death stare. Don't expect me to respond when you goad me. Life is too short. I will ignore you.

And I will BELIEVE. GO CHARGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm a bitch

I've been in a serious funk the past few days. I don't really know what my problem is. I generally feel like spitting the most noxious words I can find at everyone who talks to me. Considering I spend most of my time interacting with people at work, you would be AMAZED to see the self control I possess. Unfortunately that means I save up all my nastiness for home and my dear, darling, (he better not try to touch me), husband. I think only my husband and my family know how truly awful I can be. Very dark, very mean. I wonder if this isn't that chemical imbalance that runs deeply in my biological father's family. I guess I can be grateful that I only get weirdly moody and bitchy sometimes. My paternal grandmother was like that ALL the time.

Waxing and Whining

I'm going to Hawaii! In only seventy-two short hours I'll in Maui! Yay me!

In preparation for my trip, I decided I am mature enough to get a bikini wax. Except I'm cheap, okay thrifty, so I figured I can do it myself. I got a little kit at the drugstore, with pre-waxed strips you simply lay on and pull off. Sounded simple enough. The kit I purchased also came with a camphor "comfort cooling" spray to apply before you wax. My thought, "Cool! numbing spray! I won't feel a thing!". Ha!

My mother has been doing the self wax for years and that's probably part of the reason I figured I could do it myself. I know she's had some bad experiences (I seem to remember some sort of underarm debacle), but mostly she's fine. I started with my legs. Let me just say, for those of you who haven't placed sticky goo onto their hair with the intention of ripping it out by the root, it hurts!!!!! I was giggling uncontrollably because that's what I do when I'm 1.) nervous, 2.) scared, 3.) in pain. The hair sticking to the wax strip was cool, so I was distracted from the pain for a moment. Until I realized the strip didn't even come close to pulling out all the hair in the area. I worked around my leg and finally realized I should move up in case I didn't have enough wax to clean up the bikini line. Needless to say, my legs are smooth. In patches. I won't go into the gory details of the bikini area, but I will say I consider the bikini wax a success. The leg leaves something to be desired.

Moving on...

Husband woke up with a scratch on his face Saturday morning. He thinks I did it. I'm not saying I did, and I'm not saying I didn't. I would like to state for the record, I've woken in the middle of the night several times with him delicately removing my velvet stuffed frog from my arms. That's like taking candy from a kid. If I did scratch him, he certainly deserved it.

This morning I woke up feeling like someone tried to twist my head off my body. I wonder if he's trying to get even.

Handshakes

Husband and his business partner are looking for a real estate agent to sell "our" condo. They have it narrowed down to two teams, but seem to be torn between them. Husband suggested the wives should meet with them. I don't really think that's necessary as I fully trust Husband's and Business Partner's judgement. One thing did come up that is important to me: handshakes.

I have a couple of gripes: hard and soft shakers. My experience is that many women fall into the "Hard Shaker" category. I haven't decided if this is a woman-woman issue, or also a woman-man issue. When a woman shakes my hand forcefully, with a lot of "squeeze", I feel like they are trying to dominate me. I get the impression they are trying to assert their authority and power. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for powerful women, but the too hard shake makes me think you are trying too hard (duh). Maybe you are working hard to give the impression you have more control than you actually do.

On the flip side, men who gently take my hand (or only my fingers) annoy me. They are telling me that I am too delicate to be treated as their equal. I am not up to the full- handed, strong shake. As if I can't handle it. They too are conveying power and letting me know I don't have as much of it as they do. I do not fault men when they squeeze too hard, because at least they are treating me as they would a man. Like their equal.

I'd just like to state for the record that I am not the sort of girl to be concerned about my power. I know I have it. I don't question it. I'm not even worried about people taking it away. People are a curiosity and I ponder what makes them do the things they do.

Long Time

I'm going to blame my oh so busy life for not posting all week. Not that it matters, I think only my sister is coming over here right now anyway. Hi Seester!

Last weekend several family members gathered in Carson City, Nevada for a little skiing and bonding. This is the second year we've made the trek there during the same weekend. I have to say, it's a blast. My family is hilarious! I feel very blessed that not only do I like my siblings, but I like my cousins, aunts, uncles AND mother! Not that my mom doesn't frustrate and confuse me from time to time, but I think that is in her job description. And besides, I think motherhood might make you crazy.

I make that statement not out of malice, simply a lot of direct observation and verbal accounts. I am a scientist after all. The first clue that motherhood makes you crazy is that women want to have babies in the first place. You have to be kinda nuts to be LOOKING FORWARD to pushing a fourteen inch cranium out of your nether regions. Combine that traumatic event with the lack of sleep, poop and vomit, and it's no wonder moms go crazy and stay that way. And then the kids turn into teenagers. Eek. Scary!

Did I mention I REALLY want to have a baby?