Monthly Archives: July 2007

Crap, When Did This Happen??


Hannah gyrates her way through the kitchen, frequently and spontaneously breaks into song, and announces that she’s “bringing sexy back.”


Sam (mumbling, to nobody in particular, immediately following what looks to be a painful, yet highly stylish landing on the Slip -n- Slide: That’s a son of a bitch!


Hannah (while stomping up the stairs): ABBY SMEARED LIPSTICK ALL OVER MY SWIMSUIT!

Abby (stomping up behind her): THAT’S BECAUSE SHE CALLED ME AN UGLY BEEYOTCH!


Anyone Know Where I Can Get Little Windshield Wipers Installed On My Sunglasses?

I went out for a quick bike ride this morning. I didn’t have time for a long one today, but still wanted to sneak in a fast five miles or so before the weather closed my window for the day.

bikerain.jpgI had ridden four when it started to rain.

This felt indescribably wonderful. It was only about 65 degrees, but I was at the point during my ride where I’m usually grateful to spot a sprinkler and steer my bike through the spray. Getting completely rain-soaked kept me cool, made me laugh, and caused several passing motorists to shoot me looks suggesting that they thought I might enjoy a warm towel questioned my judgment believed I should pedal directly to the local loony bin.

I couldn’t stop yet — this felt too good.

I ended up riding nine miles, hanging up the helmet only because the rain was making it difficult to see through my sunglasses (there was no sun to block, but today they functioned as tiny windshields) and because I thought I’d better not push my luck on the slippery pavement, given my slightly pathetic tendency to have humiliating accidents.

I don’t mind explaining my bruises, but I’d rather not return to the ER just yet.

UPDATE: I love the internets.

I’m Certain I’m Overthinking This, But Still, I Have This Conversation With Myself Every Time I Reach for the Shampoo

ist2_2353933_confused_consumer_women_s_cosmetics1.jpgI have an industrial sized bottle of Pantene Pro-V Shampoo in my shower stall because, 1) I have been using it forever, 2) it was on sale, and 3) there is no three.

On the bottle, just under the brand name, it says “Get up to 85% shinier hair!”

So every time I wash my hair, I wonder.

Compared to what, exactly? 85% shinier than it was before I washed it? 85% shinier than any other brand could possibly ever make it? 85% shinier than if I shampooed with Comet?

Is there a scale of measurement pertaining to hair shininess? Other things are measured in pounds or amperes or kelvins — maybe I missed something? I mean, Google tells me that candelas measure luminosity, but I thought this applied to light, not exactly — light as it reflects off of hair. I personally have never encountered a set of locks with enough stunning brilliance to make me squint and wish for my sunglasses.

Who exactly came up with that final measurement, declaring this supposed potential 85% improvement? Were there studies? Were they statistically significant? Were human volunteers involved? Is anyone else suspicious of that nice round number, 85?

What became of the low-shine people? Are they okay? Did Pantene provide them with high quality, natural-looking wigs to wear once the testing was complete and their hair had been damaged?

And what’s with this “up to” crap? What if I happen to think my hair is 86% shinier? Huh?

I appreciate factual claims that allow me to make some sense of all the products on the drugstore’s shelves, but this one just seems a few bristles short of a brush, if ya know what I mean.

And yet, I must say. My hair looks fabulous.

UPDATE: My Pantene Pro-V Conditioner bottle says: “Get up to 99% more curl definition,” and then in very tiny type it says, “in one day.”


The questions. They torture me.

Well, It HAS Been Five Whole Days


Kathryn/Abigail/Tiger/Abby informs me that she has changed her mind, and will be going with a combination of her first and middle names, to be uttered as one five-syllable nickname, Abigail-Kathryn, which really rolls right off the tongue, if you ask me.

The Scent of… Normal?

Hannah’s room smells like SweetTarts and wet swimsuit.

Abby’s room smells like an overturned bottle of Raspberry Vanilla cologne squirted with Love’s Baby Soft.

Sam’s room smells like feet.

Huh. I must be doing something right.

Just Don’t Call Her Late For Dinner

Henceforth, the child known as Abby, who sometimes prefers to be called Abigail, and fairly recently announced that she was changing her name to Tiger, would now like to be addressed by her middle name, which is Kathryn.

Please make a note of it.

Hey, I’m Off the D-List!


I have always wanted to be a member of the “middle authority group.”

I wonder if it comes with dental?