Literally the lamest post ever

This week I thanked my husband for 8 blissful years of marriage. He was so annoyed.

Probably because it was our 15th anniversary.

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.

Anywho, Charles & I are having this little disagreement, our first since pillow-gate 1 Today’s issue: The meaning of the word literally.

Example:

Charles: I could literally spend all day throwing a ball to this dog.

Me: I wouldn’t advertise that. It makes you sound kind of lame.

Charles: Well I don’t mean literally, literally. I mean it like ‘not literally.’

Me: So the definition of ‘literally’ is ‘not literally?’

It’s not the only definitional problem we’ve had today. Charles revealed today that he was nominated for ‘hottest something something’.2

Me: Hottest meaning hottest? Or hottest meaning hottest? (Makes vague hand motions)

Charles: Hottest meaning hottest. (Makes no hand motion)

Me: That doesn’t help.

Eight blissful years. Six pretty damn decent years.3 Happy Anniversary to us!

---

[1] Which considering how much I spent on dresses alone for Jake’s Bar Mitzvah is pretty impressive.

[2] I actually know what he was nominated for, but if he loses, I do not want to be blamed cause he would literally kill me. Oh. Shit.

[3] 2001 was a tough year for everyone so it doesn't really count.

How to plan a Bar Mitzvah~ Shallow-Gal style

Step 1: Give birth to a boy. (1) Wait thirteen years. Drive kid to Hebrew School every Sunday and Monday.

Step 2: 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.

where's global warming when you need it?

Step 3: Hear the weatherman use the words Historic East Coast Snowstorm.

Step 4: Cry.

Step 5: Turn attention back to the dress. Or dresses 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. (2)


Step 6: 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.

but would it kill it to stop hailing?

Step 7: Party the night away, surrounded by everyone you love in the entire world. Realize what's really important.

The dress, obviously

1) Lord have mercy, it's going to be one of those posts.
2) I'm a stress eater. Sue me.

How Bored is Amy? So bored!

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'.

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.

You're really being dense about this. It's easier to just show you:


How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to pull out the dead tomato plants and get the garden ready for next spring?

I'm not dead yet!

Nope, not that bored.

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to clean out the stash of miscellaneous crap piled behind the sofa?

Fine show-off. Where do you store your broken ice cream maker?

I don't think I'll ever be that bored. (1)

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to resume blogging on a semi-regular basis? Hahahahahahah. You people kill me.

This game sucks, almost as much as Candy Land. Hold on, there's a point.


How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to haul over to Target and buy some Clairol to see what I'd look like as a redhead?

Exactly that bored. (2)

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.
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.

Passive-aggressive valentines, Shallow-Gal & son style

You 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?

I had that day. (1) 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.

Then I learned that apparently I already have a blog. Who knew?

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).

We started with the 27 classmates, preparing for each a little bug themed card with a tiny matching tattoo. (2) 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.

So he had three names left but no little bug cards to give them. (3) 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.

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:

Translation: Take It up. The heart. The green one.

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!

He saved his real sweet talk for the assistant teacher:

Translation: I love you as much as Mrs Taylor

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.

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?

Translation: I Do Not Know you.

Happy Valentine's Day, Miss Ruth Volunteer.


1) Aha! Admit it. You thought I was going to say "Me Neither." I am Full o' surprises today!
2) Clever buggy sentiments like "You're not a pest!"
3) Although he did have 2 bug tattoos left. Valentine Card Counter Fail!

Flat Stanley for the Bravo Generation

Ah, Flat Stanley. The cautionary tale of a boy who gets smooshed by a bulletin board and ends up, spoiler alert, FLAT! (1) Our hero finds the silver lining by getting his mom to mail him to California in a manila envelope. Lest you worry that this isn't the best plan ever, his mom also sticks an egg salad sandwich in there.

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.

This is actually a photo of a photo. I have a dream that one day man will invent
the technology that skips one of those steps. (2)

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?

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.

Introducing Flat Salahi.

I'm surprised they couldn't get a better parking spot.

Fun fact! You can now rent the Salahis, the way you might hire a magician or a James Bond impersonator for a kid's party. (3) You never know where America's favorite couple might show up next. Your nephew's bar mitzvah? The opening of a Hyundai dealership?

Or the mouthwash aisle!

Sometimes a caption is just too easy.

I went to Target for braces wax and a new pill box and found neither.
But they did have 4 different kinds of coconut milk.

1) He was already named Stanley, poor kid. The odds were already stacked against him.
2)We will call it "The Digital Camera."
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!

Everything I ever needed to know about insulting one's mother, I learned in Kindergarten

Despite Eli's protests (1) or maybe because of them, I've been volunteering in the elementary school cafeteria. (2)

Anyway I'm walking around the table, sticking tiny straws into milk containers and reminding kids to eat their sandwich before the cookies, and a little boy turns to Eli and says "I know what your mom looks like."

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!" (3)

But instead there's silence while his mind searches for the perfect retort.

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!'

So many to choose from!

Five minutes later Eli turns to the boy and says "Well I know what your mom looks like too." And the little boy was stupefied. Silenced!

Honestly the public schools just don't get the respect they deserve.



1) And my better judgment
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.
3) The 3 R's: Reading, writing and sucking up to one's mother. WTF? Writing doesn't start with an R either.

Wrong Word Wednesday (1): The "REALLY? This is how you choose to re-enter the world of blogging?" edition

I'm not even sure which of my cookbooks tells me how to prepare foot funghi (2)

1) I know it's Tuesday. That's what makes it funny. It's been a while, I know.
2) Alternate caption was something about regular quality foot funghi