tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83762695061452036042024-03-13T10:13:57.539-04:00Le ShallowGalShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.comBlogger298125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-54946281367124173522011-06-03T11:01:00.000-04:002011-06-03T11:14:00.614-04:00Literally the lamest post ever<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoFootnoteText, li.MsoFootnoteText, div.MsoFootnoteText {mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-link:"Footnote Text Char"; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} span.MsoFootnoteReference {mso-style-noshow:yes; vertical-align:super;} span.FootnoteTextChar {mso-style-name:"Footnote Text Char"; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-locked:yes; mso-style-link:"Footnote Text";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal">This week I thanked my husband for 8 blissful years of marriage. He was so annoyed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Probably because it was our 15th anniversary.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Picky, picky. It's not like I said the other 7 years were a living hell; blissful is a very high achievement for a marriage. We celebrated in style: I got him a $15 itunes gift card and he killed this fly that was really getting on my nerves.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Anywho, Charles & I are having this little disagreement, our first since <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-casulty-of-recession.html">pillow-gate</a> <span style="font-size:78%;"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftn1" name="_ftnref" title="">1</a></span> Today’s issue: The meaning of the word <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">literally</b>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Example:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal">Charles: I could literally spend all day throwing a ball to this dog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: I wouldn’t advertise that. It makes you sound kind of lame.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Charles: Well I don’t mean literally, literally. I mean it like ‘not literally.’</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: So the definition of ‘literally’ is ‘not literally?’</p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s not the only definitional problem we’ve had today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Charles revealed today that he was nominated for ‘hottest something something’.<span style="font-size:78%;"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftn2" name="_ftnref" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character:footnote">2</span></span></a></span> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Hottest meaning hottest? Or hottest meaning hottest? (Makes vague hand motions)<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Charles: Hottest meaning hottest.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span>(Makes no hand motion)<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: That doesn’t help. <a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=8376269506145203604#_ftn2" name="_ftnref" title=""></a></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal">Eight blissful years. Six pretty damn decent years.<span style="font-size:78%;"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftn2" name="_ftnref" title="">3</a></span> Happy Anniversary to us!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftn2" name="_ftnref" title=""></a></span></p> <div style="mso-element:footnote-list"> <hr align="left" size="1" width="33%"> <div style="mso-element:footnote" id="ftn"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote">[1]</span></span></a> Which considering <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-to-plan-bar-mitzvah-shallow-gal.html">how much I spent on dresses alone</a> for Jake’s Bar Mitzvah is pretty impressive.</p> </div> <div style="mso-element:footnote" id="ftn"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote">[2]</span></span></a> I actually know what he was nominated for, but if he loses, I do not want to be blamed cause he would <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">literally</b> kill me. Oh. Shit.<br /></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote">[3]</span></span></a> 2001 was a tough year for everyone so it doesn't really count. <a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""></a></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""></a></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""></a></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="mso-footnote-id:ftn" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8376269506145203604&postID=5494628136712417352#_ftnref" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote"><br /></span></span></a> </p> </div> </div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-4126817606085899712011-04-11T16:18:00.000-04:002011-04-11T22:15:16.355-04:00How to plan a Bar Mitzvah~ Shallow-Gal style<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sRJeWs6aLbc/TaMVLZRDvnI/AAAAAAAABFc/Sget6zJbWpo/s1600/Picture%2B11.png"><br /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 1:</span> Give birth to a boy. <span style="font-size:78%;">(1) </span><a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/05/ill-take-things-that-induce-panic.html">Wait thirteen years</a>. Drive kid to Hebrew School every Sunday and Monday.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 2:</span> Realize that at the end of the day, honestly, every Bar Mitzvah comes down to 2 things: the weather and your dress. And, really there's only so much you can do about your dress, thus most of your attention should be on the weather. April in DC, historically, is gorgeous.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VlFlK7_8Rb0/TZuCBdg6x1I/AAAAAAAABFM/JyEeIXJHNcY/s1600/weather.PNG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 246px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VlFlK7_8Rb0/TZuCBdg6x1I/AAAAAAAABFM/JyEeIXJHNcY/s400/weather.PNG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592206323924780882" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">where's global warming when you need it?</span></span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 3:</span> Hear the weatherman use the words Historic East Coast Snowstorm.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 4:</span> Cry.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 5:</span> Turn attention back to the dress. Or <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">dresses</span> if you want to be all technical about it. Cause by Friday night I had six possibilities hanging from the back of my closet door. One size 8, four size 10s and a very sad emergency 12. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Step 6:</span> Watch boy child read from the Torah and turn into a man before your very eyes. Beam with pride. Care a little less about the weather.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Po-dqokwgOY/TaMUoVCPrOI/AAAAAAAABFU/VJ3owW31rY8/s1600/Picture%2B12.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Po-dqokwgOY/TaMUoVCPrOI/AAAAAAAABFU/VJ3owW31rY8/s320/Picture%2B12.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594337845198171362" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">but would it kill it to stop hailing?</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Step 7</span>: Party the night away, surrounded by everyone you love in the entire world. Realize what's really important.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sRJeWs6aLbc/TaMVLZRDvnI/AAAAAAAABFc/Sget6zJbWpo/s1600/Picture%2B11.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 187px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sRJeWs6aLbc/TaMVLZRDvnI/AAAAAAAABFc/Sget6zJbWpo/s320/Picture%2B11.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594338447629467250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >The dress, obviously</span><br /><br /><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >1) Lord have mercy, it's going to be one of those posts.<br />2) I'm a stress eater. Sue me.</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-17399476635896072932011-02-27T15:56:00.002-05:002011-02-27T16:37:33.325-05:00How Bored is Amy? So bored!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xPtFH4VPmLw/TWp0Qh4_sUI/AAAAAAAABE4/b5eUo7kN2Gc/s1600/IMG_0830.JPG"><br /></a><br />When Eli was a baby, my favorite game was "How big is Baby?" It's awesome cause you just lie the baby on your lap and squeak "How big is baby?" and then you stretch the baby's arms out over his head and say "SO BIG!" It sounds dull, but trust me, once you enter the mind numbing realm of Candy Land, you yearn for 'How Big is Baby'.<br /><br />But one problem. Eli's not a baby anymore. He's in Kindergarten, full-day Kindergarten at that, leaving me with 7 hours a day all to myself. So I invented a new game called "How bored is Amy?" It's really similar to "How big is baby" but with no baby.<br /><br />You're really being dense about this. It's easier to just show you:<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">How Bored is Amy? So Bored!</span><br /><br />Bored enough to pull out the dead tomato plants and get the garden ready for next spring?<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3JtYYEs07h4/TWpz5VEoSJI/AAAAAAAABEw/1Rfvs2kWFAA/s1600/IMG_0828.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3JtYYEs07h4/TWpz5VEoSJI/AAAAAAAABEw/1Rfvs2kWFAA/s400/IMG_0828.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578398517198080146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm not dead yet!</span> </div><br />Nope, not that bored.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />How Bored is Amy? So Bored!</span><br /><br /></span>Bored enough to clean out the stash of miscellaneous crap piled behind the sofa?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xPtFH4VPmLw/TWp0Qh4_sUI/AAAAAAAABE4/b5eUo7kN2Gc/s1600/IMG_0830.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xPtFH4VPmLw/TWp0Qh4_sUI/AAAAAAAABE4/b5eUo7kN2Gc/s400/IMG_0830.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578398915775934786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Fine show-off. Where do you store your broken ice cream maker? </span><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br />I don't think I'll ever be that bored.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span></div> </div><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />How Bored is Amy? So Bored!<br /><br /></span><span>Bored enough to resume blogging on a semi-regular basis? Hahahahahahah. You people kill me.<br /><br />This game sucks, almost as much as Candy Land. Hold on, there's a point.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">How Bored is Amy? So Bored!</span><br /><br />Bored enough to haul over to Target and buy some Clairol to see what I'd look like as a redhead?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyKVJqs6bp8/TWp1PasQp-I/AAAAAAAABFA/tkh75q3hCiw/s1600/lucy1.thumbnail.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 128px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zyKVJqs6bp8/TWp1PasQp-I/AAAAAAAABFA/tkh75q3hCiw/s400/lucy1.thumbnail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578399996175230946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Exactly that bored. (2)</span></span><br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1)That stuff, as well as the contents of the attic and the crawl space is all going to convey when I sell the house.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">2) I am in no way comparing myself to Lucille Ball except for hair color and obviously the fact that my husband & I sleep in twin beds. </span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-85972612672350635292011-02-07T20:04:00.023-05:002011-02-07T22:22:08.611-05:00Passive-aggressive valentines, Shallow-Gal & son styleYou know those days where you're on fire? Where you wake up just aching to get going and you take that to-do list and make it your bitch?<br /><br />I had that day.<span style="font-size:78%;"> (1)</span> I hit the bank and the grocery store, paid bills, bought new running shoes, supervised the addressing of 37 Valentines day cards and to cap it all off, I started a blog.<br /><br />Then I learned that apparently I <span style="font-style: italic;">already have a blog</span>. Who knew?<br /><br />So anyway, Eli came home today with a list of Valentines. Twenty seven classmates, the teacher, assistant teacher, music / art / gym teachers, lunch lady, bruin buddies, reading buddies and someone cryptically listed as Miss Ruth (volunteer).<br /><br />We started with the 27 classmates, preparing for each a little bug themed card with a tiny matching tattoo. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span> Eli wrote his name on each one and then carefully copied each name from his list and checked it off. Then he did the same for the adults on his list until, amazingly enough, the giant box o' fancy walmart cards was empty.<br /><br />So he had three names left but no little bug cards to give them.<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" > (3) </span>As much as I hated to do it, I brought out the foam hearts, fancy paper and a glue stick. And quickly went upstairs before he could ask for help.<br /><br />It's not like he needed my assistance anyway; Eli has his finger on the pulse of what women want to hear on February 14rth. Take the card for his teacher:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCdcVaw7MI/AAAAAAAABEo/7HXLBeU_iBY/s1600/VDay1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCdcVaw7MI/AAAAAAAABEo/7HXLBeU_iBY/s400/VDay1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571125849168604354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Translation:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>Take It up. The heart. The green one.</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />It's an interactive card. They're all the rage in Kindergarten. You lift up the sides of the green heart and then you say "Dammit" when the pieces fall off in your hand and you have to find where Eli left the glue stick so you can fix it before he wakes up. Hooray for interactive cards!<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />He saved his real sweet talk for the assistant teacher:<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCYBEN0nkI/AAAAAAAABEY/F-E_yU4B0Vo/s1600/valentine2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCYBEN0nkI/AAAAAAAABEY/F-E_yU4B0Vo/s400/valentine2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571119883136310850" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Translation:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I love you as much as Mrs Taylor</span><br /></div><br />I probably should have explained that Mrs Taylor is his teacher. Do assistant teachers have inferiority complexes? I know at least one who will now.<br /><br />Last on the list, but not least in Eli's heart, the woman I've never heard of before today, the woman he refers to as 'Miss Ruth Volunteer'. Because there's no way the teacher is padding this list so the kids have to practice handwriting, right? Or possibly she owns stock in Hallmark?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCYBe_-HTI/AAAAAAAABEg/cNYhx09rqNU/s1600/vday3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TVCYBe_-HTI/AAAAAAAABEg/cNYhx09rqNU/s400/vday3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571119890325970226" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Translation:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I Do Not Know you.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span>Happy Valentine's Day, Miss Ruth Volunteer.</span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><br />1) Aha! Admit it. You thought I was going to say "Me Neither." I am Full o' surprises today!</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">2) Clever buggy sentiments like "You're not a pest!" </span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >3) Although he did have 2 bug tattoos left. Valentine Card Counter Fail!</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-39223971910996804922010-10-14T13:28:00.021-04:002010-10-15T06:23:21.357-04:00Flat Stanley for the Bravo GenerationAh, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Flat-Stanley-His-Original-Adventure/dp/0060097914/ref=pd_sim_b_6">Flat Stanley</a>. The cautionary tale of a boy who gets smooshed by a bulletin board and ends up, <span style="font-weight: bold;">spoiler alert</span>, FLAT! <span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> Our hero finds the silver lining by getting his mom to mail him to California in a manila envelope. <span style="font-size:100%;">Lest you worry that this isn't the best plan ever, his mom also sticks an egg salad sandwich in there.</span><br /><br />And thus was born an entire second grade curriculum. Students mail paper Stanleys to friends and relatives all over the world and take pictures of his adventures. Or rather over-eager parents and grandparents do this. The kids are all fixated on how how bad that envelope must have smelled.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLd0C0tWSyI/AAAAAAAABEE/mTO-RMg92CQ/s1600/flat+stanley+masada.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLd0C0tWSyI/AAAAAAAABEE/mTO-RMg92CQ/s400/flat+stanley+masada.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528014659477981986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >This is actually a photo of a photo. I have a dream that one day man will invent<br />the technology that skips one of those steps. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span><br /></div><br />We actually colored Stanley a yarmulke and sent him with my mom to Israel. I have an entire album of Stanley touring the Middle East. Do you think my second grader even bothered to show it to his teacher?<br /><br />Well, Hell. If I'm gonna drag a paper cut-out of some attention seeking whore all over creation, let's at least liven this puppy up.<br /><br />Introducing Flat Salahi.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc99q8z8aI/AAAAAAAABDk/8xme1kQkvUg/s1600/Target1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc99q8z8aI/AAAAAAAABDk/8xme1kQkvUg/s400/Target1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527955197331239330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I'm surprised they couldn't get a better parking spot.<br /></span></div><br />Fun fact! You can now <a href="http://voices.washingtonpost.com/reliable-source/2010/10/rs-_salhis.html?hpid=newswell">rent the Salahis</a>, the way you might hire a magician or a James Bond impersonator for a kid's party. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(3) </span>You never know where America's favorite couple might show up next. Your nephew's bar mitzvah? The opening of a Hyundai dealership?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc995hOvjI/AAAAAAAABDs/HkSl1n4BCz0/s1600/Target2"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc995hOvjI/AAAAAAAABDs/HkSl1n4BCz0/s400/Target2" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527955201242086962" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Or the mouthwash aisle!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc9-FOv-7I/AAAAAAAABD0/2QGshp2VdyY/s1600/target3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc9-FOv-7I/AAAAAAAABD0/2QGshp2VdyY/s400/target3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527955204385799090" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Sometimes a caption is just too easy. </span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc9-TXuI2I/AAAAAAAABD8/jlugH_Xlmlk/s1600/target4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TLc9-TXuI2I/AAAAAAAABD8/jlugH_Xlmlk/s400/target4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527955208181523298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I went to Target for braces wax and a new pill box and found neither.<br />But they did have 4 different kinds of coconut milk.</span> </span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1) He was already named Stanley, poor kid. The odds were already stacked against him.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2)We will call it "The Digital Camera."</span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >2) The standard joke is "like one might rent a clown" but I'm trying to be less predictable. Although just by posting twice in the same week, I think I'm ahead of the predictability curve!</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-28781651470348986992010-10-11T16:26:00.010-04:002010-10-11T21:47:10.842-04:00Everything I ever needed to know about insulting one's mother, I learned in Kindergarten<span style="font-size:100%;">Despite Eli's protests <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span></span> or maybe because of them, I've been volunteering in the elementary school cafeteria.<span style="font-size:78%;"> (2) </span><br /><br />Anyway I'm walking around the table, sticking tiny straws into milk containers and reminding kids to eat their sandwich <span style="font-weight: bold;">before</span> the cookies, and a little boy turns to Eli and says "I know what your mom looks like."<br /><br />Every single child from room 37 stopped eating and looked at Eli. What could he possibly say to counter this attack? I waited for Eli to defend my honor, perhaps with a "Isn't she beautiful?" or "I hope my wife looks like that at 41!" <span style="font-size:78%;">(3)</span><br /><br />But instead there's silence while his mind searches for the perfect retort.<br /><br />Maybe a classic like 'Your mother's so stupid she failed a survey.' Or something retro-cultural like 'Your mother's so fat, when she went outside in a red dress, everyone yelled, "HEY, KOOL-AID!'<br /><br />So many to choose from!<br /><br />Five minutes later Eli turns to the boy and says "<span style="font-weight: bold;">Well I know what your mom looks like too</span>." And the little boy was stupefied. Silenced!<br /><br />Honestly the public schools just don't get the respect they deserve.<br /><br /><b><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1) And my better judgment<br />2) Translation: I went once and it was really traumatic so now I do all the typing and cutting for the teacher in the safety of my own home. Or rather I will if the teacher asks far enough in advance for me to get a good netflix movie while I do it.<br />3) The 3 R's: Reading, writing and sucking up to one's mother. WTF? Writing doesn't start with an R either.<br /></span></b>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-10528148389630394562010-09-28T07:28:00.003-04:002010-09-28T08:00:49.672-04:00Wrong Word Wednesday (1): The "REALLY? This is how you choose to re-enter the world of blogging?" edition<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TKHRsCFfVAI/AAAAAAAABDc/um4HeouBBuM/s1600/Picture+1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 342px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TKHRsCFfVAI/AAAAAAAABDc/um4HeouBBuM/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521925172537283586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I'm not even sure which of my <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/03/very-shallow-book-review.html">cookbooks</a> tells me how to prepare foot funghi</span> <span style="font-size:78%;">(2)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >1) I know it's Tuesday. That's what makes it funny. It's been a while, I know. <br />2) Alternate caption was something about regular quality foot funghi</span><br /></div></div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-29866901877609907272010-08-05T08:50:00.011-04:002010-08-05T18:01:35.672-04:00Another casulty of the recessionAll is not well in ShallowLand.<br /><br />It's this stupid recession.<br /><br />To save money, Charles' company made some rule that restricted his travel schedule.<br /><br />So my husband, usually on the road 16-20 days a month, is now home <span style="font-style: italic;">every single night</span>.<br /><br />Which sounds like it would be exactly what I want. And in theory it would be. But there's one problem.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">We only own one pillow.</span><br /><br />That might be a slight exaggeration. We really own 32 gazillion pillows. <span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> But we only own one good pillow.<br /><br />Back in the olden days, I'd use the pillow Monday thru Friday and then Charles would use it on the weekends when he was home. And I would have been so well rested from my 5 nights with the good pillow that I could sleep on an inferior pillow just fine. And sometimes on Sundays I'd manage to fall asleep, or at least play possum, before he got into bed and hope he wouldn't wake me just to get the good pillow.<br /><br />Those days are over. Charles is home 7 nights a week and asserts that it's his pillow, just cause I bought it for him for our anniversary.<br /><br />I was telling my friend Wendy <span style="font-size:78%;">(2)</span> this story the other day and she offered to buy me a new pillow. As if it's that easy.<br /><br />The pillow in question is a <a href="http://www.tempurpedic.com/pillows/therapy/the_neckpillow_by_tempur_pedic/">Tempur-pedic neck pillow</a>. And according to their website buying the wrong size could be hazardous to your health:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;"><br />It is important that you choose the proper pillow thickness based on your shoulder dimensions and sleeping position preference to promote an anatomically correct posture. A pillow that forces your head too high or allows it to fall too far back not only places stress on your neck, but could inhibit breathing. </blockquote><br />I just can't take that chance.<br /><br />There's a chart <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(3)</span> to help you buy the right pillow. But it asks all these personal questions like my height. Do I use the height I tell the weight watchers people so my goal weight can be 10 pounds higher? <span style="font-size:78%;">(4) </span>Or should I use the height that allows my husband to perpetuate the myth that he's really 5'9" <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(5)</span> ?<br /><br />Tempur-pedic also needs to know if I sleep on my side or my back and I sleep on my stomach. I'm afraid if I go into the Healthy Back store and tell them that, not only will they not sell me a new pillow, they might take away the one I already have.<br /><br />Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, this recession will end, my husband will resume his busy travel schedule and I will regain full custody of the pillow.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br />1) Does 'integrity in blogging' require me to really go upstairs and count all the pillows?<br />2) Wendy is totally awesome but was <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/04/sg-searches-for-new-best-friend.html">eliminated from BFF contention</a> because she's training for a marathon. I have a strict "no-runners" clause.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >3) <span style="font-weight: bold;">A chart</span>. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">To buy a pillow. This is why the terrorists hate us. </span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >4)5'6"<br />5) 5'4"</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-4948282562453838492010-07-08T20:26:00.000-04:002010-07-08T20:57:14.302-04:00T minus oneThe day we've all been dreading is nigh. Despite my pleas and my prayers <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/04/sg-searches-for-new-best-friend.html">Linda is moving to Leesburg tomorrow </a>.<br /><br />Obviously I have a plan. During the move, I'll be watching 3 of her 4 children. I'll send her this text.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TDYHBae3LWI/AAAAAAAABC0/hja0GFl9hTI/s1600/Ransom+to+linda"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TDYHBae3LWI/AAAAAAAABC0/hja0GFl9hTI/s320/Ransom+to+linda" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491584516494929250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Planning to kidnap your BFFs kids? There's an App for that.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Unfortunately it probably won't work.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> Linda knows me well enough that</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> she's stashing her spare kid somewhere else</span>.<br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-42256331483541607182010-07-03T08:10:00.004-04:002010-07-03T08:46:34.942-04:00Paperwork Hell<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />What I'm looking for:</span><br /><br />Noa's camp medical form that took the pediatrician 2 weeks, cost me $20 and was due 6 weeks ago.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I found instead:</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TC8pC1A2HfI/AAAAAAAABCk/fEfbzHjCTjc/s1600/Photo+29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TC8pC1A2HfI/AAAAAAAABCk/fEfbzHjCTjc/s400/Photo+29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489651599355026930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The obedience school diploma</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">for a dog that's been dead for 25 years.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span><br /></div><br />I think it's fair to say that I need a better system.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >1) What do you call the dog who graduates last in his class from obedience school? Doctor. Wait, wrong joke. </span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-42590418166689030292010-06-11T06:22:00.003-04:002010-06-11T08:07:59.861-04:00Le excuseI don't know. There's no excuse. I've been doing stuff, interesting <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span> stuff. Plenty to tell you. I'm in a good mood, getting my RDA of sunshine and exercise. I just haven't been feeling writey lately.<br /><br />But then the fabulous <a href="http://www.mouthyhousewives.com/current-events/celebrity-deaths-so-sad-yawn-2">Mouthy Housewives</a> asked me (ME!) to guest post. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span> Giving assvice <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(3)</span> is my speciality <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(4)</span> along with making <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/03/how-to-make-monte-cristo-shallowgal.html">monte cristos</a> and, well, I'm running low on specialities these days.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mouthyhousewives.com/current-events/celebrity-deaths-so-sad-yawn-2">So go over there and give me some love</a>. Make those mouthy Housewives wonder why it took them so damn long.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >1) Interesting if you're my mother or my shrink<br />2) About fucking time.<br />3) Advice that comes out of my ass, duh.<br />4) Pronounced Spesh E ality. </span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-82805708689173184582010-05-31T19:29:00.003-04:002010-05-31T19:43:54.848-04:00Mostly Wordless Wednesday, Federal Holiday editionI can't be the only one stymied by what I found under the couch today:<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TARGk-1PUsI/AAAAAAAABCc/gGOqkHtjU7s/s1600/remotes.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/TARGk-1PUsI/AAAAAAAABCc/gGOqkHtjU7s/s320/remotes.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477580647944901314" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Either my husband is moon lighting for the cable company<br />or the couch is haunted.<br /></span></div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-19682950888730102852010-05-28T08:06:00.005-04:002010-05-28T21:55:37.436-04:00Le Post that sits and sits because I can't think of a title.Tuesday will be Charles and my 14th wedding anniversary. The traditional gift is ivory, but I'm going with the more contemporary gift: the world's largest gummy bear. <span style="font-size:78%;">(1) </span><span style="font-size:78%;">(2)<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images1.vat19.com/worlds-largest-gummy-bear/worlds-largest-gummy-bear-1400.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 346px; height: 230px;" src="http://images1.vat19.com/worlds-largest-gummy-bear/worlds-largest-gummy-bear-1400.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Photo borrowed from the awesome folks at <a href="http://www.vat19.com/dvds/showProducts.cfm?categoryID=45">Vat19.com</a></span> </div><br /><br />I got the idea, no kidding, from <a href="http://www.kellykillorenbensimon.com/blog/?p=1227">Kelly on the Real Housewives of New York</a>, who tweeted about it, after complaining that she didn't eat processed food, while shoving gummy bears and jelly beans in her mouth. Because nobody embodies a healthy, happy relationship like Kelly.<br /><br />Secret to our lengthy nuptials? Separate bathrooms. It sure as hell isn't our communications skills. To wit:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: I saw the beginning of a good movie last night on HBO, we should put it on our Netflix queue.</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Me: I thought we canceled HBO.</blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: We did, that's why we should see if it's on Netflix.</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Me: Did they not turn the HBO off? Do we need to call Directv again?</blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: No they turned it off, we're good.</span><br /><blockquote><br /><span>Me: I'm really stymied here. How did you see this movie?</span></blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: I watched it on HBO last night.</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Me: </blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: In the hotel.</span><br /><blockquote><br />Me:</blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: In Boston.</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Me:</blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: Where I was last night.</span><br /><br /><blockquote>Me:</blockquote><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Charles: You did notice I wasn't here last night?</span> <span style="font-size:78%;">(3)</span><br /><br />We had another little snafu when I got stuck at an appointment and I texted him to ask if he could pick Eli up at a friend's house on his way home from work and he replied<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">NO</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">and then a minute later<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">PROB<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">which I interpreted as No and then Probably, which I thought was a strange response because I'm at the doctor and it's not like Eli has mastered the suburban public transportation schedule, but he actually meant NO PROBLEM. <span style="font-size:78%;"> (4)</span><br /><br />Then again, who needs communication when you have a 5 pound gummy bear?<br /><br /><br /></div></div></div></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1) I made a <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/06/twelve-years.html">similar joke on our 12th anniversary.</a><br />2) He got me an ivory patent leather Coach bag and you all don't need me to spell out that whole process, although suffice it to say, that I've been doing my own shopping <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/05/seven.html">since I got tic tacs for my birthday</a>. I also bought a kick-ass pair of sandals but I can't manage to make that one relate. I'm losing my touch.<br />3) In my defense, I'm not very observant.<br />4) Originally I wrote "I dunno, you be the judge." but you people are unpredictable lately, and I can't have you all taking his side. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-70881203989641394672010-05-21T12:55:00.011-04:002010-05-22T16:24:19.668-04:00Le DogI feel like I haven't been entirely honest with you.<br /><br />Probably because I haven't.<br /><a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/04/shallowgal-contemplates-her-own.html"><br />You know my dog, Dobie?</a> The big ferocious one? And his <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring-break.html">equally menacing dog sitter, Al</a>? <span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> All made up. The Shallow home was, until yesterday, blissfully canine-free.<br /><br />But you can't be too mad because Karma has bit me in the ass with a petulant, cranky, dog.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i199.photobucket.com/albums/aa48/bcsmith46/tequiladog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 628px; height: 937px;" src="http://i199.photobucket.com/albums/aa48/bcsmith46/tequiladog.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Huge scary picture courtesy of the<br /><a href="http://west-sacramento.blogspot.com/2007/10/tequila-drinking-devil-dog.html">West Sacramento Photo of the Day blog</a>. </span><br />only this dog is better cause he brought tequila.<br /><br /></div><br />His name is Joe. Joe, as in Joe Giradi, manager of the New York Yankees, not Joe, like Joe the Plumber. Jake was opposed to the name Joe because he thought it made him sound average. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">This dog aspires to be average.</span> His full legal name is <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/10/shallowgal-thanks-heavens-there-is-no.html">Josephat Macaroni-Head</a>, so that's what I'll call him when he's in trouble. Which is apparently going to be all the fucking time.<br /><br />He's a rescue dog, and I'll admit that Eli wasn't the only one disappointed when he wasn't dropped off by a hunky firefighter. He's a grade A mutt; best guess is part lab, part water dog, part Satan hound.<br /><br />Yes, Satan Hound. Example: when we pet sat for friends, we would leave their dogs in the upstairs hallway with all the doors and the baby gate closed when we went out. It gives them more room than a crate plus a view. We've never had any complaints. Until today.<br /><br />In the 20 minutes it took me to drop Eli off at school, Joe managed to chew thru the baby gate, thru his leash in 72 different places and then destroy Jake's brand new size 7 1/2 (men's) Keens. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2) </span>Twenty minutes. I can't empty the dishwasher that fast. Look like we'll be adding a crate to our already super cluttered 1372 square feet home.<span style="font-size:78%;">(3,4)</span><br /><br />On the bright side, I finally have fodder for my book, which I think I'll title Joe and Me, Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog. Jennifer Aniston can play me in the movie adaptation. I'm also going to start a website called Shit my Dog Destroyed, which is going to be an overnight sensation.<br /><br />Stupid Karma.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >1) Although I don't really know what's menacing about downloading porn.<br />2) Details added in case any of my readers are actually Keen representatives. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >3) 4 bedrooms, 3 baths in a good school district in case any of my readers are actually benevolent real estate moguls.<br />4) So cluttered and too small to have anything good to steal. Oh wait, I really do have a dog now, stalkers! Named Joe, short for Cujo.<br /></span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-74369055733937614432010-05-19T07:48:00.004-04:002010-05-19T11:14:37.512-04:00How to prepare for a terrorist attack and/or natural disaster: ShallowGal styleI feel like I should start with a disclaimer: I'm not a disaster expert. Pretty much everything I know on the topic comes from watching movies like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1190080/">2012</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120461/">Volcano</a> and <a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/gigli/">Gigli</a>. So if you've reached this page because you have 15 minutes to evacuate your home and you've already wasted the first 2 minutes of that googling "What should I take when I evacuate because of a natural disaster and/or terrorist attack?" please go find some official disaster site. Actually get off the damn computer, grab your kids and your keys and get the hell out of dodge. I'm sure <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/03/thank-heavens-for-7-11.html">you'll pass a 7-11</a>.<br /><br />But hopefully you're reading this preemptively. First you need one of those big rubbermaid bins with a matching latching lid. You might want to pick a color that matches your living room decor, that way you can use it as a coffee table.<span style="font-size:78%;"> (1)</span> I taped a supply list to the front for ease of identification.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MocQ36MBI/AAAAAAAABA0/lcH6ctPr4Fg/s1600/photo2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MocQ36MBI/AAAAAAAABA0/lcH6ctPr4Fg/s320/photo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472762438216200210" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Which is more disturbing, that half the list is missing or<br />that not a single item is checked off?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span><br /></div><br />You need to put a great deal of thought into packing these disaster kits. They need to provide everything a family of 5 needs to survive for three days. Every inch of the bin should be carefully allocated to the bare necessities. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(3)</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Mocpgdn2I/AAAAAAAABA8/2v1PFbssEXs/s1600/photo-6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Mocpgdn2I/AAAAAAAABA8/2v1PFbssEXs/s320/photo-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472762444828745570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">As in "Congratulations, you have survived the Apocalypse." </span> </span></div><br />Let's keep looking. Next up, three platters, my favorite of which has broken. <span style="font-size:78%;">(4)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MnkuR5OTI/AAAAAAAABAk/HBGPQ0UyLKs/s1600/photo1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MnkuR5OTI/AAAAAAAABAk/HBGPQ0UyLKs/s320/photo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472761484037142834" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >My thinking was probably that the banner<br />will have drawn all the other survivors<br />and they'll be expecting nibbles.</span><br /></div><br />But before we can throw this big shindig to celebrate our survival, we actually need to do some surviving. C'mon, Amy. Check the damn half-list.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MnkdsXKSI/AAAAAAAABAc/htpeEf7vvEg/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_MnkdsXKSI/AAAAAAAABAc/htpeEf7vvEg/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472761479584753954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Would you be surprised to learn that neither flashlight has batteries?</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Next up, a large purple beach bag stuffed with essentials. Maybe not stuffed, but definitely essential.<br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M1ArOfFEI/AAAAAAAABBs/1RNHqpYlYpY/s1600/a7.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M1ArOfFEI/AAAAAAAABBs/1RNHqpYlYpY/s320/a7.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472776257905038402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Essential if I need proof that I've been to Ocean City<br />or I need to build a quick IKEA bookcase<br />or <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2009/03/shallow-land-play-in-3-scenes.html">measure Jake for a skating dress</a>. </span><br /></div><br />After 9/11, when I extensively researched evacuation kits, there was a lot of discussion about grapefruit seed extract and oil of oregano as all-purpose magic must haves.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Ms72KRQPI/AAAAAAAABBU/GdGsrRAmlug/s1600/aaa.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Ms72KRQPI/AAAAAAAABBU/GdGsrRAmlug/s320/aaa.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472767378847777010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Although it really only had the effect of making the box smell<br />like an Italian restaurant. </span><br /></div><br />All joking aside, a first aid kit is a necessity.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Ms4I1XVcI/AAAAAAAABBM/w4y_08pn85o/s1600/aa.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_Ms4I1XVcI/AAAAAAAABBM/w4y_08pn85o/s320/aa.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472767315140892098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I'm prepared for basically any injury sustained during the apocalypse<br />as long as it's a headache or a skinned knee.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Maps! This makes sense because there's a good chance that the satellite that controls the combined 4 GPS's <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(5)</span> in our cars have been affected.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M1cR42lTI/AAAAAAAABB8/MLFxhQC0PXM/s1600/a5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M1cR42lTI/AAAAAAAABB8/MLFxhQC0PXM/s320/a5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472776732139754802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >This way I can get from ground zero to ground zero. Or Delaware.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Under the maps, a great surprise! I have been looking for this vacuum attachment for, I kid you not, 4 years. I've been vacuuming my house with the little round attachment that you use for dusting.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_My0U7YM9I/AAAAAAAABBc/VRJrcZuSg4Y/s1600/a2.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_My0U7YM9I/AAAAAAAABBc/VRJrcZuSg4Y/s320/a2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472773846737630162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Life as you you know it is over, but cheer up, I found the vacuum attachment!</span><br /></div><br /><br />Score! Duplicate maps!<br /><br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M_1KgqleI/AAAAAAAABCM/WRiPib7G9CA/s1600/azee.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_M_1KgqleI/AAAAAAAABCM/WRiPib7G9CA/s320/azee.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472788154772264418" border="0" /></a><br /></div>We're reaching the bottom. The things that were so important that I must have packed them first. A dinosaur puppet. A sixth map.<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(6)</span> A can opener and a novelty bottle opener. A blush applicator and a bow.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_My09VBI1I/AAAAAAAABBk/ymk0CDR7l4w/s1600/a1.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S_My09VBI1I/AAAAAAAABBk/ymk0CDR7l4w/s320/a1.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472773857582588754" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Actually the bow may come in handy for the house warming present </span></span><br /></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">for the lucky Delaware resident I drop in on.<br /></span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1) The whole point here is that you want to grab your emergency kit and run, gaining you valuable time ahead of <strike> the competition </strike>your neighbors.<br />2) Answer: Neither. Just you wait.<br />3) ♫ The simple bare necessities! ♫<br />4) Meaning the volcanoes have already won.<br />5) GPS' ? GPSes'? GPS's's? GPSi ? </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">6) Of Delaware, natch. </span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-91182079590433772922010-05-14T14:49:00.004-04:002010-05-19T07:15:07.725-04:00The BFF search beginsSo I've been hard at work these past 2 weeks, <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/04/sg-searches-for-new-best-friend.html">auditioning new best friends</a>. I've decided that most likely, I'm going to promote from within. Just to keep the learning curve to a minimum. <span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> There are a lot of important things that I don't have time to teach a new BFF, like when my birthday is. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(3)</span><br /><br />One of my leading contenders is Hope, aka <a href="http://www.thejetsetgirls.blogspot.com/">Lolita Travelsalot</a>, a friend since our La Leche League days, 12 years ago. You know her as my <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-to-plan-baycation-sg-style-now-with.html">baycation partner in crime</a>, and also from <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/07/three-bloggers-went-to-san-francisco.html">BlogHer '08</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S-xnIZnLoNI/AAAAAAAABAU/ph4DyGlQ1vY/s1600/bobbibrown.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S-xnIZnLoNI/AAAAAAAABAU/ph4DyGlQ1vY/s320/bobbibrown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470861041360150738" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">That's Hope on the left, and btw, this is the picture to</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">be used in my obituary.</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Pros:<br /><ul><li>Fabulous wardrobe that she's willing to share, and even pretends will fit me, even though, c'mon, look at her!<br /></li><li><a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-my-book-club-is-better-than-your.html">Willing to drink before noon.</a></li><li>Long shared history. I've spent the past week looking for the most adorable picture of Noa and her middle daughter dressed like bumblebees for their dance recital when they were 4.<br /></li><li>Not only remembered my birthday but even took me out for lunch.<br /></li></ul></div></div>Cons: <span style="font-size:78%;">(4)</span><br /><ul><li>Because she's so gosh-darned awesome, her schedule is pretty full. I hate to break this to you, but I'm a fairly high maintenance friend.<br /></li></ul>And so the search continues . . .<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br />1) My husband mentioned that until my post last week, he thought *HE* was my best friend. Isn't that cute? Although, funny story: I was reading this book called </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >How to Have a New Husband by Friday</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > (2) and it mandated that you shouldn't complain about your husband to your friends. Which begs the question, who should I complain about my husband to? Total strangers on the street? Grocery clerks? Not a well thought out book, I think we can agree.<br />2)</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Which was utter tripe, and I took a lot of crap for reading it, even though it was just for potential blog fodder.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >3) </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >It was last Monday by the way, and a tremendous number of contestants neglected to so much as send a card and were immediately disqualified.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >4) Besides, you know, working too hard and caring too much.<br /></span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-73064170309801452652010-04-30T09:48:00.017-04:002010-04-30T21:01:48.044-04:00SG searches for a new best friend.<a href="http://www.secretspinelesswhine.com/2009/02/catman.html">Linda</a>, my real life BFF, has put her house on the market, six months earlier than planned. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span><br /><br />So the search for a new BFF has moved up my to-do list. Originally I had planned to hold informal auditions over the summer, maybe organize s<a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/03/paris-and-shallowgal-bff.html">ome kind of reality show</a> in August, and reach a final decision, probably with some kind of bridging ceremony, in the fall. But if I'm to have a new best friend in place the day Linda moves, I need to get started yesterday. And considering I'm still working several hours a day on a post I started last August <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2)</span> I think we can all agree timeliness is not my best quality. <span style="font-size:78%;">(3)</span><br /><br />(Although if you did agree, you're automatically out of the running. My BFF would never say something like that about me. )<br /><br />And just so we're clear, if you think you know how this is going to end, with some preachy dialogue about how true friendship can survive, and for the love of all things holy, she's only moving 40 minutes to the west and she already lives 20 minutes to the east now, and what's 20 minutes more? <span style="font-weight: bold;">No</span>. At the end of this series, I will have a new best friend, and visit Linda weekly and reminisce about the good old days. And take Linda's five calls a day even when I'm out with my Linda2.0 so as to remind her that she's fine, but not quite as good as her predecessor, until I cause another poor soul to move out to the middle of nowhere as well.<br /><br />Let's get looking. I can't imagine there isn't a line around the block already.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1)<a href="http://www.motherhoodinnyc.com/">Marinka</a> helpfully pointed out last week that Leesburg, where Linda is moving, sounds made up, so I asked for a forwarding address. It's 123 Main Street. And her new number is 867-5309. So there, Marinka! </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />2) It was about a dinner party I had with <a href="http://www.someoneinatree.com/?zx=d5c9e4570a1f67a1">David</a>, <a href="http://vuboq.blogspot.com/">Vuboq</a> and some guy whose name I don't even remember anymore. I was going to title it <span style="font-weight: bold;">Queer Eye for the ShallowGal</span> and we made pizzas on the grill topped with produce from the garden and it had one funny line about confusing it with a 6 year old's birthday, and this picture & caption:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S9sdWa6t7aI/AAAAAAAABAM/zM9hZfN0iNw/s1600/IMG_2581.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 190px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S9sdWa6t7aI/AAAAAAAABAM/zM9hZfN0iNw/s320/IMG_2581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465994843764157858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >It may look unorthodox<br />but I can guarantee that his elbow hasn't been in his nose or his butt. </span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />So if today's blog accomplishes nothing else, I got that monkey off my back. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2.1)</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br />2.1) But not this monkey: </span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S9rlBoENcVI/AAAAAAAABAE/FkYOpPfCDYM/s1600/IMG_3640.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S9rlBoENcVI/AAAAAAAABAE/FkYOpPfCDYM/s320/IMG_3640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465932913865224530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >AKA something about <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring-break.html">my trip to Nicaragua</a></span>.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Yes. It's an actual monkey on my back. In Nicaragua.<br />See how I made that transition seamlessly? This stuff takes time, people!</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S9rlBoENcVI/AAAAAAAABAE/FkYOpPfCDYM/s1600/IMG_3640.JPG"><br /></a></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />3) What's the most important thing aboutwritingablogpost?TIMING! That joke never gets old.</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-56680967626368964282010-04-20T19:49:00.003-04:002010-04-20T19:54:31.313-04:00You think you're busy?You should see Eli's to-do list. He dictated it to me at competition practice this morning.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S8492FNIFII/AAAAAAAAA_s/gLMe6kPu_DU/s1600/eli+to-do.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S8492FNIFII/AAAAAAAAA_s/gLMe6kPu_DU/s400/eli+to-do.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462371397366453378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Keep your fingers crossed that he gets it all done </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">cause once you fall behind on drawing hearts, basically you never catch up.</span></span><br /></div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-12726841682308394232010-04-13T21:07:00.002-04:002010-04-13T21:31:01.178-04:00Wrong Word WednesdayKeeping in mind all the <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2008/04/things-that-shallowgal-finds-in-her.html">usual niceties</a> about how English is hard, my Spanish / Korean / Farsi isn't any better, how I always try to have a nice blog . . .oh fuck it. Get a load of this note I found today on the community bulletin board:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S8UVtkmCFyI/AAAAAAAAA_k/rHD8vNCjQ0g/s1600/bj.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S8UVtkmCFyI/AAAAAAAAA_k/rHD8vNCjQ0g/s400/bj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459793995918087970" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">OK, admit it. On first glance <span style="font-size:78%;">(1)</span> your first thought </span><span style="font-style: italic;">also </span><span style="font-style: italic;">was that this woman was offering a weekly</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> blowjob. And your second thought was how much time contracting that job out would free up in your week. </span><span style="font-style: italic;">I know for a fact that I'm not the only pervert on the internet. </span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1) Unless you're my friend Bethanny who found the note and only noticed that Janet was offering prizes. You'll be reading more about Bethanny soon in my upcoming series <span style="font-size:78%;">(2)</span> where I write about the auditions I'm having to replace my BFF Linda who is fucking leaving me to move to Leesburg. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">2) I'm telling you now, possibly spoiling the suspense because I guarantee that by the end of the week I will tweet "I had the best idea for a blog and now I can't remember it." </span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-51892985795772650982010-04-08T08:47:00.009-04:002010-04-08T10:27:31.955-04:00How to do a science experiment, ShallowGal style<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zYDntm2krAs/S7oh4C8zqDI/AAAAAAAAGT0/d8luMepPBl4/s1600/whymommysciencefair.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 388px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zYDntm2krAs/S7oh4C8zqDI/AAAAAAAAGT0/d8luMepPBl4/s1600/whymommysciencefair.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://http//www.stimeyland.com/2010/04/team-whymommys-virtual-science-fair.html">This post is written to honor Susan</a>, aka <a href="http://toddlerplanet.wordpress.com/">WhyMommy</a>, who is simultaneously the smartest and the strongest woman I know. Kick some cancer ass Susan! </span><br /></div><br /><br />Not to put too fine a point on it, but really, I think we can all agree that all science experiments boil down into one of 2 camps:<br /><br />1) Those conducted with mentos and diet coke<br />2) Those conducted without mentos and diet coke.<br /><br />And I'm sure you can guess where I pitched my virtual tent.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Purpose of experiment</span>: Show Susan how much we love her by comparing the reaction of mentos with diet coke as compared to the reaction of mentos with generic diet soda.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hypothesis</span>: That somebody will have a meltdown before the end of this experiment. Probably Noa. And that kids will want to eat the mentos. Also I'll taste the remaining diet coke and decided that with a little rum, it's still drinkable. Yes those are all hypothesis. Hypothesi? Hypothesises?<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" > (1)</span> And that generic diet cola will not have as big a reaction cause honestly, it tastes more like diet pepsi than diet coke.<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" > (2)</span> Hey! Can one of you kids go run to the 7-11 and buy diet pepsi, cause coke vs pepsi would be a better experiment. What do you mean you're only five? You know where the 7-11 is. Yes, the place where Mommy buys lottery tickets. It's not too far. No I have to stay here and guard the mentos. Fine. We'll save that experiment for next year's science fair.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Observation</span>: That sure enough, all of the kids wanted to eat the mentos. And upon realizing they were the mint flavored ones, they spit them out. And stuck them in the generic cola before I had my camera ready, and created only a mini-geyser, thus ruining the entire experiment. And resulting in a mass meltdown.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conclusion</span>: Mentos/diet coke science is way harder than you think. <span style="font-size:78%;">(3)</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">1) C'mon Spell-check, a little help here. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">2) Or diet shasta. Remember that crap?<br />3) Still, I expect at least <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2010/03/special.html">a ribbon</a> since I properly followed the Hypothesis / observation / conclusion model.<br /></span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-76372558335556727102010-04-05T17:37:00.010-04:002010-04-05T19:40:48.642-04:00How to prolong your stay in Immigration & Customs, a play in one act<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Scene: Dulles Airport, Immigration and Customs. 2am.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amy</span> (to posse): Listen up. We've been on the move for 19 hours, and I know you're exhausted. All we need to do is go thru these next two checkpoints, get our bags, catch the shuttle to the car and Bob's your Uncle. So you know the rule here; nobody, and I mean, NOBODY says anything to the nice immigration officer or the nice customs person unless asked a direct question. They DO NOT CARE about our vacation. Capiche?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Noa</span>: Can I tell them you got drunk on rum and swam naked in the pool?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amy</span>: Anything they need to know, I will tell them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nice Immigration Man</span> (Studies form, shakes head, writes a large letter A on our form) You were on a Nicaraguan farm? And you admitted to it? You're going to need to go to agricultural customs for additional inspection.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Amy, PCSguy and Posse drag over to Agricultural customs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nice Agricultural Customs Officer</span>: Because you were on a farm, I'm going to need to disinfect all your shoes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amy</span>: Really?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NACO</span>: Oh sure. We don't want to infect our agriculture with foreign germs. (She pulls out a bucket and starts spraying shoes) Did you have a nice vacation?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Kids nod, possibily following instructions, but more likely wondering who Uncle Bob is, and how many delinquent birthday presents he owes them.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NACO</span>: And your flight? How was that?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Kids smile and nod and I try to make some excuse about how they're not really rude or stupid, just tired)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NACO:</span> Well thank you for being honest on your customs form.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Kids nod again)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NACO</span> (to Eli:) Your turn. Can I have your shoes?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eli</span>: Sure. But watch out for the brown stuff. It's monkey diarrhea.ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-68606508686132945762010-03-26T09:56:00.012-04:002010-03-26T10:52:57.839-04:00Spring BreakGuess where the Shallow family is going for Spring Break. Seriously, guess.<br /><br />Wrong. Here's a hint.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zDq9ncgsI/AAAAAAAAA-8/B4y0Q1CQLjE/s1600/CRbooks.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zDq9ncgsI/AAAAAAAAA-8/B4y0Q1CQLjE/s320/CRbooks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452948391700759234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Your hint is that this particular bookstore carries<br />exactly </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">ZERO guidebooks about my destination.</span></span><br /></div><br />Tomorrow at 4 am, the entire Shallow family will head off to the airport for the 5 hour flight to Panama, followed by a 2 hour flight to Managua followed by a 3 hour drive to fulfill <a href="http://goingofftheshallowend.blogspot.com/2009/02/places-shallowgal-does-want-to-go-1.html">my almost sixteen-month-long dream of going to Nicaragua</a>.<br /><br /><br />I'm taking 3 kids to a place that they aren't writing guidebooks about yet. Yes, I know it's the second poorest country in the Americas. Yes, Nicaragua has active volcanoes, earthquakes and malaria. Trust me, my mother googled it all.<br /><br />But it also has this.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG7t9Z6SI/AAAAAAAAA_U/MRg_vKF151k/s1600/marsella.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG7t9Z6SI/AAAAAAAAA_U/MRg_vKF151k/s320/marsella.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452951978090555682" border="0" /></a><br />And this<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG7XVQPsI/AAAAAAAAA_M/Tocu3Ap2Z1E/s1600/08-1810-colonial-architecture-granada-nicaragua.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG7XVQPsI/AAAAAAAAA_M/Tocu3Ap2Z1E/s320/08-1810-colonial-architecture-granada-nicaragua.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452951972016570050" border="0" /></a><br />and this.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG621dvQI/AAAAAAAAA_E/B6tcXsZIY1Y/s1600/7Sunset.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6zG621dvQI/AAAAAAAAA_E/B6tcXsZIY1Y/s320/7Sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452951963293302018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>So I think we'll be just fine.<br /><br />I won't be blogging while I'm gone. I'm going dark. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(1)</span> And sorry, Servant of the Most High. I'll be turning off comments while I'm gone. Go spam someone else.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />1) I wish I could say it's because I want to completely focus on the kids, but honestly I just doubt there's wifi in Nicaragua. Also this way the dog sitter won't download porn on the kids computer.<span style="font-size:78%;"> (2)</span><br />2) I know it was you Al, and I'm over it. Just don't do it again.<br /></span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-9974948576812299972010-03-23T15:13:00.018-04:002010-03-23T19:28:32.235-04:00I went to 3 birthday parties this weekend and all I got was these 2 lousy pictures.I really don't want to drop names <span style="font-weight: bold;">(<a href="http://www.iambossy.com/pop-culture/2010/03/22/a-cake-expose-and-universal-health-care/">BOSSY!</a>)</span> but I had the most fabulous weekend <span style="font-weight: bold;">(<a href="http://vuboq.blogspot.com/">VUBOQ</a>!)</span> and got to hang out with the coolest people <span style="font-weight: bold;">(<a href="http://www.someoneinatree.com/?zx=486b77cda54f9982">DAVID</a>!)</span><br /><br />And I have the photographic evidence to prove it.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6lDQAsd35I/AAAAAAAAA-s/RYsmFuyHak8/s1600-h/drinks2.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6lDQAsd35I/AAAAAAAAA-s/RYsmFuyHak8/s200/drinks2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451962766252171154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Here I have lined my drinks up shortest to tallest.<br />Trust me, it was </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >really</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > funny at the time. (1)<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6lD6Q6mb3I/AAAAAAAAA-0/D2AxwkqUBeU/s1600-h/lincoln.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6lD6Q6mb3I/AAAAAAAAA-0/D2AxwkqUBeU/s200/lincoln.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451963492160925554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I took this one on the way home<br />because apparently I'm a tourist.</span><br /></div><br /><br />Satisfied? No wait! Really! I was there! Here let's look at some, ahem, borrowed pictures of the festivities.<br /><br />How adorable is the birthday boy? Answer: very!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2745/4452835738_d6ba4f8d4a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2745/4452835738_d6ba4f8d4a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Here Bossy is either warning me to stay away from her gays<br />or begging me to be her roommate at Mom 2.0 next year. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Possibly both at the same time, there was a lot of whiskey involved.</span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4017/4452841594_a35061029d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 372px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4017/4452841594_a35061029d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><a href="http://jezebel.com/5361714/antm-recap-tyra-stop-trying-to-make-smize-happen/gallery/">SMIZE</a>! </span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2757/4452056867_890cf3466f.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 294px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2757/4452056867_890cf3466f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">There's my husband </span><span style="font-style: italic;">standing next to David<br />while David auditions for a beer commercial.<br /><br /></span></span></div>The guy on the left is VUBOQs uber-awesome brother, who needs to come back to DC cause I have the greatest woman to introduce to him.<br /><br />This weekend was also Jake's twelfth birthday. <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >(2) </span>There are zero pictures of that because his party included girls and I spent the whole party acting like I wasn't eavesdropping and I suck at multi-tasking. Being the stud his father is raising him to be, Jake sat at the movie between his girlfriend and his ex-girlfriend.<br /><br />Too bad Larry didn't answer the pay phone over at the Regal Beagle cause Jake really could have used his help.<br /><br />Our third birthday party was for the kids skating coach and can you even imagine the hell to pay if I told you I took dozens of pictures of that one?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />1) Honestly, is there anything more annoying than people talking about things that were funny when they were drunk?<br />2) But his social media skills suck, so he gets second billing.</span>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-7461073728113620532010-03-17T07:32:00.002-04:002010-03-17T08:07:58.067-04:00Mostly Wordless Wednesday<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6C-F9QtchI/AAAAAAAAA-k/OC5iwu6eu74/s1600-h/Photo+29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lEEjpb7dPOs/S6C-F9QtchI/AAAAAAAAA-k/OC5iwu6eu74/s400/Photo+29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449564558671573522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">His Jewish preschool is going to be pissed</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">but Eli is taking no chances of his sister pinching him</span></span><br /></div>ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8376269506145203604.post-78262633374535960252010-03-15T20:42:00.002-04:002010-03-15T20:51:56.249-04:00Who's on first?Eli: I know this song. It's <span style="font-style: italic;">Eye of the Tiger</span>.<br /><br /><blockquote>Me: No it's (pauses, listens) <span style="font-style: italic;">I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For</span>.</blockquote><br /><br />Eli: What are you looking for?<br /><br /><blockquote>Me: No, that's the name of the song.</blockquote><br /><br />Eli: What's the name of the song?<br /><br /><blockquote>Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">I still haven't found what I'm looking for</span>.</blockquote><br /><br />Eli: (Deep sigh) Fine. I'll help you look after <span style="font-style: italic;">Eye of the Tiger</span> is over.ShallowGalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05315514695390459591noreply@blogger.com7