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21 Aug

Most of you are probably aware of the, let’s call them, enthusiastic clown fuckers Cirque Du Soleil fans I had trolling my blog yesterday. Thanks to Google Analytics, I was finally able to figure out how they found my blog in the first place. I finally found the Cirque forum where this was posted under a “Corteo Hater” post:

“I happened upon this blog. Just thought I’d share it with you all.
This woman really hated Corteo.”

For anyone who hasn’t read my previous post, I wrote about how much contortionists and clowns scare me. I did not write about how much I hated Corteo. In fact, I’ve never seen the performance. But my intention of the post was to say that I will most likely never see the performance as Cirque performances, in general, freak me the fuck out.

Now, obviously, there are about a billion crazy enthusiastic Cirque fans out there. And I think a few million of them visited my blog yesterday.

(If any of you are still brave enough to hang out
and visit with the Hive, WELCOME!)

But most of those visitors decided to attack my personal blog for saying things that I did not actually say. The whole situation brings an interesting question to mind. How often, in our daily lives, do we misread/interpret/understand what someone is saying?

I used to have a friend that was pretty rude. In fact, something in his delivery or words he chose would pretty much insult me (or I would interpret as rude), every single time I saw him. After a while, a few friends opened up enough to reveal that they, too, interpreted Mr. Snuffleupagus* as being rude.

Fast forward a few months later and every comment that came out of Mr. Snuffleupagus’ mouth was interpreted by me as being beligerent and/or rude. Did my preconcieved notion that he was now a rude McDouchePants color all of his comments as rude in my mind?

Now, because we were all chicken shit, we never actually spoke to Snuffy about the sitatution. Which leads me to wonder, can we ever really know someone’s intention without complete honesty being involved? And how can we learn to shed our preconceptions in order to really hear what is being said instead of filling between the lines with what we assume is being said?

*Name has been changed to protect the rude innocent

Song title: Misunderstood by Better Than Ezra

Mean Mean Woman

20 Aug

Check this out:

Possible Troll Sighting

Does the Hive have it’s first ever troll? Am I just misinterpreting “Bubble’s” comment? Is it bad that part of me is bummed and the other part is thrilled that I have a douchebag troll?

Update: DEFINITELY troll(s). I seriously love that such a tame post actually offended someone! My work here is done…

Song title: Mean Mean Woman by John Lee Hooker

The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades

11 Aug

The men’s beach volleyball team of Dalhausser and Rogers have numerous sponsors. One is apparently Oakley Sunglasses because even though the glare from the lenses prevents them from playing well, they refuse to take the glasses off. So they just took the lenses out:

Do they realize that they are totally copying Twitch?

Song title: The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades by Timbuk3

Woman to Woman

9 Aug

Because I Have A Vagina: My transition from “working” woman to a SAHM
I don’t think there is anything like pregnancy and motherhood to really expose the differences between men and woman (both biologically and socially). Sure, we all grow up learning about the glass ceiling, women being paid $0.70 to a man’s dollar, yada yada yada. (Apparently, in 2006, the Census Bureau says, the typical woman earned 77% of the typical man’s wage. Oooh, we’re gaining on ‘em, ladies!)

However, in my opinion, money is one of the more insignificant examples of why it sucks to have a vagina. Let’s start with marriage and having to decide whether or not to change your name. Of course tradition tells us ladies that if you really love your husband, you’d change your name to his. But what is glossed over is the sense of loss a woman has when/if she decides to change her name. For me, I had spent the last 20 years in school and had a new business and fresh law degree under my belt as my wedding day approached. I always knew I’d change my last name, but the thought of shedding what I considered to be my legacy, my past, my heritage, was a difficult concept to grasp. Everyone knew me by my maiden name. All the hard work I had put in at different jobs, meeting new people; I felt like all that would be wiped clean.

Then I had to sit down and consider my future career-wise. Having just graduated from law school, Mr. Bee and I decided that I should concentrate on my new career as a wedding planner (natural transition from law school, I know). This was an easy and difficult decision to make. I had just completed three years of grueling school to get my fancy piece of paper and a part of me wanted to put it to good use. But when I looked at our “family plan”, it just didn’t make sense for me to put in a few agonizing climbing-the-ladder years at a law firm or in public service, just to take 5-10 years off to raise our children. So I guess that decision came fairly easy too.

So now you’re married and you’re pregnant! Now it all sinks in. You mean that because I have a vagina I have to grow this thing in my belly (I love you, Bee!) for NINE MONTHS (oh, and FYI you non-mamas: Nine months really equals ten months in whacked out pregnancy math.) Then you get to push a 6-10+ pound baby out your baby hole and recover from that trauma quick enough to start breastfeeding. And let’s cross our fingers and hope that you don’t have any incontinence or any of the other fun “gifts” that pregnancy gives you. In the meantime, don’t forget to clean, cook, take care of your husband and, maybe if you find some extra time, take care of yourself a little too. Oh, and don’t forget losing all that baby weight you gained because, geez, if Jessica Alba can be a size negative triple-zero just two weeks after the birth of sextuplets, then you should be able to, too.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that men have huge pressures on them to work and support a family. And that can’t be easy. Especially when you’re married to someone with spending habits like mine (Sorry, honey).

But the impact of having children is so much less for a guy than a girl. The weight gain, the loss of any kind of attractive body (just say good bye to any sort of muscle tone in your abdomen), stretch marks…) And welcome to the world of worrying:

“Do we have enough diapers, wipes, formula, baby food, milk, clothes that fit the baby, books, learning toys? What I am going to make for breakfast, lunch, dinner? Did the baby have her bath tonight? Did I remember to brush her teeth? Did I read enough books to her today? Do we have enough clean sippy cups and do I have time to shower AND vacuum before the baby wakes up?…”

In the meantime, you get compliments from friends about what a great dad your husband is. And no doubt about it, he’s the best! That’s why I married him, duh. But when’s the last time that someone commented to my husband that I was a fantastic wife and mom because I watch/take care of Baby non-stop. All my husband has to do is take baby duty for a hour and he’s winning awards and cooing from all my non-mama friends. I get that not all husbands wake up with the baby in the middle of the night when you are nursing or offer you a full Saturday off without the baby (thank you, thank you, thank you, honey!!), but that’s just the kind of thing I would hope a dad would do to help a mom. Because, speaking on behalf of moms everywhere, I’m pretty sure our collective heads would explode if we didn’t have some time off once in a while. Right, ladies?

Then your husband (and family) (and friends) (and strangers) start asking about #2. Really? Seriously?! Even though it means more money spent, a husband/dad’s duties don’t really change much whether you have one or ten kids. But for a mom? That means that I will be bald from pulling my hair out even faster!

For me, #2 means that I most likely will have to quit my job. I started my company, my business, in 2003. Since then it’s grown through word of mouth alone and, although some times it gets to be a lot of stress and work, it really is my pride and joy. I love being my own boss. Luckily, I have a husband who is successful enough to support us with or without my paltry income. And Mr. Bee absolutely supports any decision I make regarding the company. But with our current plan, next summer I predict that I will be too full of Baby #2 to want to spend 10 hours on my feet after taking care of a toddler all week.

I could just take a sabbatical for a year and rev things up again in 2010, but that just seems really unlikely. The thought of having uninterrupted summers and all my Fridays and Saturdays free does make me do a little jig, but to give up my company, this baby of mine, does break my heart. Because I’m good at it. I really am. And if I give it up, it’s like it never happened. I’ll never win those awards I’m always striving for and never win. I just have to give up that dream.

And even if I close down the company, I’m already brainstorming other projects/companies/businesses to start. I just don’t know if I can stop being creative and controlling – the two things I do best!

When money isn’t the issue, how does a mom choose between spending more time with her babies and spending time as a business woman?

Song title: . Woman to Woman by Beverley Craven

Good Girl Gone Bad

29 Jul


As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Poor (Failure)

Take the test!

I’m ridiculously proud of this score! Take the test and comment with your score :)

Song title: Good Girl Gone Bad by Rihanna

Blah Blah Blah

26 Jul

My Long Evening
Just to make the story of my poopy evening more poo-filled, I’ll begin by giving you an update on our house hunting. For those who aren’t loyal members of the Bee Hive (for shame!), Mr. Bee and I have been house hunting for approximately a half year by now and we finally found our McDreamy house. No, Patrick Dempsey doesn’t live there. But it’s McDreamy none the less.

So I couldn’t stand the suspense and finally emailed our Redfin agent on our anniversary, hoping for some really sweet news to be an anniversary gift for ourselves. Our agent emails me back with this:

“[The] contract has been received and will be assigned to someone at the bank the first week of August.”

Seriously?! So for the last week and a half our offer/contract has just been sitting in someone’s god damn inbox?! And no one is even going to be assigned to it until (hopefully) next week!?!?! I say hopefully because I don’t know if the douche bags at “The Bank” will consider this coming week or the week after to be “the first week of August.”

I knew that this whole process was going to be irritatingly slow, but seriously. This bank is so small, I can’t even find a website for it.

FYI: If you have/are a company and you don’t have a website, you are dead to me. Seriously.

Mr. Bee and I have decided that if this house doesn’t work out, we’re going to be really disappointed. Like soul-crushingly disappointed. You’ve been warned…

But I digress. The whole house thing doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. I just wanted you irritated on my behalf as I start my story…

So our whole day today (okay, not really, but kind of) was scheduled around an appointment I made a few days ago to get my hair cut and colored uh, naturally enhanced. Yeah, yeah, it’s natural. I swear!

On my way tonight to Le Mall, I was stuck in traffic behind some chick in a red Jeep. Oh wait, that’s not a girl. It’s a dude. With a…wait for it…mullet! And I’m not talking a “oh, my hair is just a little long in back” mullet. I’m talking a full on Dog, the Bounty Hunter mop! It’s was fucking awesome. I was dying in laughter as I passed him only to see gigantic elk antlers attached to the grill of the Jeep. Classic.

So I get safely to the Mall and down a quick (and disgusting) mall pretzel with “cheese”. I’m pretty sure this was some sort of cheese product and not the actual thing. But I was hungry and since my appointment was at 6pm, I figured I’d be dying of hunger if I didn’t shove something down my gullet before the girls at G.J. had their way with me.

I go to check in at the front counter, after wiping the last remnants of cheese goo from my chin, ready to begin my transformation from dumpy mom to our beloved and recently departed SYTYCD dancer, Kherington:
only to find out that the Douchey McDoucherPants who took my reservation made it for FRIDAY night, not Saturday. Cool. Thanks jerk for totally messing up my plans and making me put off my beautifying for a whole week.

Sidenote: At this point, I’m so disappointed that I practically want to cry. I don’t think the fact that I’m super PMSing right now helped matters much.

I made an appointment for next Saturday and now had to figure out what the hell do to with myself instead of just wasting a Saturday evening. Mr. Bee suggested that I drive to Renton to find the much sought after Mario Kart for the Wii. Apparently, The Store That Shall Not Be Named said online that they had some in stock. So I started the half hour drive up to Renton through stupid pissy drivers.

Another Sidenote: Okay, for all you stupid asshole drivers out there that think some silly girl driving an SUV won’t care if you cut her off and drive like a total douche…SURPRISE! I DO care! In fact, I will fuck with you like nobody’s business if I get the opportunity. And what you don’t know about this little blond, is that I am in fact a pissed off, PMSing, stressed out and needing a break but I didn’t get one because some other ass messed up my hair appointment, Mom without her baby in tow. You know what that means? It means that now I can drive like I want to (i.e. not all careful and cautious since Baby Bee is in the car). So watch out, asshole drivers. Mama means business.

When I finally get to The Store That Shall Not Be Named (TSTSNBN, for short, or VoldeMART as Mr. Bee suggests), it’s swamped with people. And I’m going to be as super PC as I can right now. I know VoldeMART has great prices. But I’ve also seen that documentary that talks about what a horrible corporation it is, destroying whole towns and what not, so the Bee Family just tries to avoid it as much as possible. And while I’m sure we’ve all been patrons of said chain multiple times, there is definitely a stereotyped clientele. You know. You’ve seen them.

But at this place, it was like the typical “clientele” times 850 million. It was KER-azy. And here I am, not dressed up per se, but trying to be cute for my hair appointment so when I go from drab to fab my outfit will match. Well, let’s just say, it did not fit in here. It’s kind of like that time I went to Lowe’s in a skirt and heels to pick up some random plumbing thing. Just stuck out a bit.

I went to the Electronics counter and, of course, the dude says that he had like a trillion (okay, 6) Mario Karts this morning but they sold out already. Yay for me. So I head back, trying to navigate through the throngs of people mesmerized by “falling prices.” I’m trying to dig out my cell phone to call and relay the “meow meow”-ness of the situation to Mr. Bee, when I hear, “Hey! Maam!”

Maam? Really? Yep, I’m that old, I guess.

But here comes Electronics Counter Dude (aka: my savior) with Mario Kart in hand!!

WHAT?! I guess some dude had called and put it on a hold a few hours ago but never came to buy it so he’s gonna let me buy it from him instead!!! YAY!!!!!!

So this story has a happy ending, I thought, as I pulled back on to the highway and headed for the comfort of home.


Totally unrelated, but for those keeping track, the Bee Household now officially has the ability to DVR 5 shows at one time! Hilarious! Apparently the replacement TiVo, that came a week or so ago to replace our gangsta Series One original TiVo after the Nielsen Ratings hardware broke it, has a dual tuner! haha! Just when you thought I couldn’t possibly watch more television…

And a special little nugget for you if you’ve managed to read this entire post, here’s a little “Quote of the Week” from Bunco Night:

“I can’t help it…the big balls kill me every time!”

And since I’m catching up on all my random thoughts for the week, if Sara is out there, your husband does not have a rape wagon. But THIS GUY definitely does:

I couldn’t help but take a photo of it of that beauty while driving!

Song title: Blah Blah Blah by Iggy Pop

Everything and More

24 Jul

A Cornacopia of Random Crap
First of all, let me apologize for my extended absence over the last five days! Last weekend was yet another wedding and then a somewhat impromptu trip to Portland. Mr. Bee had some conventiony thing to attend and invited Baby and Wifey to join him. Since we were really only there for like a day and a half, we didn’t do much. Seriously, I’m pretty sure we drove 2 1/2 hours (one way) to stay in a hotel (sarcastic woot) and go shopping.

We had a good time, but boy, vacations kind of suck with kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love traveling with Bee (she does amazing on planes and, well, everywhere). But the change of scenery certainly does not promote regular nap/sleep times and having to chase her around to make sure she doesn’t electrocute herself in the non-baby-proofed hotel room does not a fun vacation make.

But now we’re back in town and back to the status quo. No news on the house yet but I’m really hoping that we’ll at least get a “touching base” email or phone call today. Mr. Bee and I have pretty much planned everything there is to plan before we physically get the house! Seriously. We know what we want to do to the house before we move in, after we move in, hell, we even have made a game plan for the big move! Jumping ahead of ourselves just a bit!

Earlier this week I got to attend my monthly Bunco game and once again was shocked at who and why people read this crap! Honestly, don’t you people have better things to do? Hmmm, I guess you could ask the same thing of me…Well played, friend. Touche.

Since I can’t remember the other 85 billion things I was planning on blogging about today, I’ll leave you with another TV show commentary:

Shear Genius
Shear Genius is a reality show based off the Project Runway formula. It pits different hair stylists against each other for some random ass prizes (I don’t know, new scissors or something?). It’s actually pretty fun to watch, especially since I change my hair style like I change my underwear. (Every couple months? ::rim shot::)

But this week’s episode kind of got me thinking (read: irritated). I had seen promos for the episode that featured the women who the stylists would be working with (i.e. cutting their hair). The clients/women looked like this:

So I’m thinking, “Oh my god, what an emotional challenge! The women obviously have completed chemo from horrible bouts of cancer and now they are going to get awesome wigs, etc. How amazing for everyone!”

And then they announce that the women have something called Alopecia. It’s an immune system condition where you just don’t have any hair.


Now, don’t get me wrong. Having Alopecia would suck giant monkey balls. But when I thought these women were coming straight from cancer treatment, simply not having any hair ain’t that big of a deal. I mean, come on! Never having to shave your legs or pits? How frickin’ awesome would that be?!

But seriously, these hair stylist were bawling their eyes out like they had just been told their moms are dying. Come on, people! So they don’t have hair? It’s not a life-threatening condition! Yeah, it’s sucks significantly, but give me a break!!

Okay, I’ll step off my hairy soapbox now…

Song title: Everything and More by Billy Gilman

Acceptable in the 80′s

15 Jul

What the hell was Elizabeth Hasselbeck wearing on the View today? I’m pretty sure it was the most popular prom dress of the year….in 1986.

Are Hasselbeck and Cat Deeley competing in a secret Ugly Dress Contest? I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite sure who’s winning…

Grow Up So Fast
Can you believe that today Baby Bee decided that sitting up to play with toys was cool?! I know, The Bee Hive is thinking, “uh, isn’t Bee like 15 months old? And she’s just now sitting up?!”

Okay, Judgey McJudgerPants. See, Baby Bee sat up for a while but promptly decided in February of this year that only losers sit still for any measurable amount of time and that she was way too cool for that. So seriously from February to today, Baby Bee simply laid down on her tummy or stood at our ottoman to play with toys. Until, on her own, she did this:
Yes, it is an event that is picture-worthy! Now if I can just get my 15-month old to walk on her own…

Song title: Acceptable in the 80′s by Calvis Harris; Grow Up So Fast by Chantal Kreviazuk

Angry People

2 Jul

Have I Offended You? Get in line…
Last night, Mr. Bee approached me about how I might eventually offend someone who reads this blog. My general response was: “okay.” ::shrug:: I tried to convince him that I do use some semblance of tact when writing this. I really detest people who are cowards until they get online and decide to say/type things that they would never really say to anyone’s face.

I tried to convince Mr. Bee that I’m not one of those people and I would, in fact, be happy to repeat anything I put in this blog to any one in my life. Actually, many of you get the chance to hear these stories multiple times! If the tens of people, who are obviously so insanely bored that they wander over to this P.O.S. blog, get offended, then maybe they should delete their Mama Bee Bookmark, yeah? By the end of our conversation, we both decided that a more accurate title for the blog should be “Everybody Can Suck It.”

Mmmmm…I love the smell of cancer in the morning…
I should begin by saying that this topic was one of those that Mr. Bee thought could/would offend people. So, yeah, um, sorry?

**UPDATE: To totally plagarize Pearl, I feel the need to specify that I guess I hate the smoke, not the smoker. And I really hate using the word “hate”, too. So hate = dislike. God, I’m such a push-over…**

One of the super awesome and fantastic things about living in a 3-floor walk up apartment (gag) is that is gets ridiculously hot when it’s 90+ degrees outside. We have one sliding glass door and a couple windows that have to be open pretty much all day long to keep the place from cooking Baby Bee and my’s internal organs.

So every morning, first thing I do is open the slider door and get a fan going to get some cool morning air in the apartment. Roughly 30 seconds after I do this, the douche living below me decides to have his first of about a billion cigarettes out on his balcony. This, of course, fills my apartment instantly with cigarette (and other types…hint, hint) of smoke. I have to run to the balcony and turn the fan around as fast as I can and then we get to spend the next ten minutes roasting in stale cigarette smoke.

**If you are easily offended and/or smoke, you may want to turn away now. Don’t worry we’ll tell you when it’s safe to come back**

I. Hate. Smokers.

5 Reasons Why I Hate Smokers

1. They are selfish.
Smokers totally don’t care that they are spreading their love of cancer to innocent bystanders. Whether it’s while you are sitting pleasantly in your own apartment or walking down the street, smokers don’t usually care if they are puffing away and blowing smoke in to your face. To quote Stephanie Tanner, “How Rude!”

2. They litter
I’m really not trying to go on a tirade, but it totally disgusts me to see how much of the litter on the road, walkways, freeways, etc. is used cigarette butts. Really? Just because your trash is small doesn’t mean that every single smoker can toss their trash out the window.

3. They are dangerous
Seriously? Since when it is okay to toss something on FIRE out your car window?! Have you noticed those lovely black patches of grass near the freeway? Yeah, that’s from you, Smoker. All those brush fires aren’t spontaneous combustion, retards. And I swear to God, if you hit my car with your lit cigarette, I will follow you until we’re at a stop light and throw something on fire in to YOUR car! And, if you have to litter, can you at least snub out your cigarette first? You don’t see normal people walking around just dropping crap on fire on the ground do you?

4. Ouch!
Anyone ever been hit by a lit cigarette in a night club/bar? I have! This has changed significantly since Washington changed it’s smoking laws (and since I have become an old fuddy-duddy who doesn’t ever go out anymore), but the memories still haunt me!

5. OK, I’m out
Okay, so I didn’t really have 5 reasons, but I still don’t like smokers. It’s dirty, it’s unhealthy, and as long as you have the “right” to kill yourself with smoke, I should have the “right” to not have smoke blown in my friggin’ window every morning.

Rant over.

I apologize sincerely if I happen to offend anyone with this crappy blog. Oh yeah, and if I did offend you? Suck it.

Song title: Angry People by Barenaked Ladies

Livin’ Fat

30 Jun

Ah…Sweet Validation…
First of all, tonight I’d like to thank my stalkers readers for all their comments and for completely validating my anti-douche propaganda yesterday! This morning while I watched Mr. & Mrs. Neighbor McDouchePants load a broom in to their storage container (yeah, it’s a good thing I have to park over in friggin’ Lebanon just so you can carry a 5 ounce broom twelve feet from your apartment to your storage container…f#cking douche) But where was I? Oh yes, watching them load their crap in to the pod, I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of my, let’s say, “gift”? I’m still waiting to dish out a “You park like an idiot” card, but I’m guessing I won’t have to wait too long for that opportunity to present itself…

Wii Fridge? Mii Diet? Nintendo Wii Should Stop Eating So Much Crap v2.0?
We finally set up the Wii at the apartment (gag) and I finally made it back on the Wii Fit after almost a month away. I am happy to announce that in those 26 days away, I have lost 2.2 pounds! Not exactly my goal yet (still about 13 pounds away from that…) but I think I have come up with a genius solution.

I won’t lie. I love my Lovely Lady Friends dearly. But I have to confess: they are annoyingly svelte* and attractive. Like really? Seriously? Do I have to be the token fattie? And what’s sick is that I know I’m not “fat”. It’s just that compared to these annoying size, well, who knows what size they are in those totally cute designer jeans, I am the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. (*Don’t Google Image Search “svelte” unless you are looking for porn.)

So here’s my plan: stop all those irritating sit-ups and exercises and work harder on making THEM gain weight! Brilliant, right? We all share a love of wine, cheese and bread, so you’d think it wouldn’t be too hard. I figure I can get them all liquored up on a nice Pinot Noir and once they are good and sauced…out come the Quarter Pounders! Trade their weight loss shakes with some high protein weight gain formula and watch me get skinnier and skinnier!! Muuuaaahahahahahahahahahaha.

Feel free to adapt this plan to suit your individual group of friends. Most of my group are married or getting hitched in the next month or two, so I’ll tell them to write it off as them “letting themselves go”. It’ll happen sooner or later. How about just sooner so I can feel better about myself in a bathing suit this summer?

I’ll post updates soon. Boy, it sure is good that none of them read this blog, huh?

The moment I wake up, before I put on my makeup…
I have to just briefly share how hilarious Mr. Bee is. A few months ago, I got Baby Bee a little Cookie Monster plush doll from Las Vegas. Apparently, Mr. Bee is way too creative in the mornings and, for the last week or so, I have awoken to find Cookie is various poses and situations in the apartment. Naturally, I have found him sitting atop the fridge holding a container of cookies. But this morning was hilarious. I walked in to the living to find Cookie Monster on the steering wheel of Baby Bee’s Leap Frog Ride Along School Bus where he apparently had passed out after crashing in to (and on top of) a bunch of Baby Bee’s other toys!

I immediately emailed Mr. Bee a scandalous mug shot of the celebrity DUI:

It’s such a disappointment when our children’s role models can’t hold their liquor and crash their alphabet school buses in to innocent Stack & Smile Crocodile bystanders. Such a promising career ruined.

Song title: Livin’ Fat by Fat Joe (Da Gangsta); I Say A Little Prayer For You by Diana King