Friday, February 27, 2004
Say the Magic Words...
I’m feeling antsy. I want something to change. I want it to be me. I want to change. But I’m an instant gratification person so let’s make it snappy already. So I try all the magic words I can think of.
Alakazam!
Presto!
Open says me.
Open sesame?
I wiggle my nose and snap my ponytail like Jeannie. Still nothing. Gosh, she made it look so easy.
Poof!
Nope.
Pretty please?
With cherries on top? I whine in my little girl voice.
Nothing’s changed.
“Ala Peanut Butter Sandwiches!” I shout with confidence.
Damn. Still nothing.
So, I resort to the tried-and-true method.
“Take off four inches and add some funky layers, please.”
Viola! Ta-da! Presto!
Change!
Love,
Zoë
Need weird t-shirts?
Well, of course, you should check out the Diva Confessions Store.....
But, for some additionally amusing (and sometimes controversial) tees, go to davidandgoliathtees.com.
Esp. good if you have teenagers.
Or you're a Diva.
Extra! Extra!
Kiddo won second place in the science fair! Woo hoo!!
Proud Mama,
Vi
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Puppy Chow
Well, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna get a dog. I'm pretty excited about this, considering that it'll be my first. Oh sure, I had dogs growing up, but they were my parents' dogs - the 'family' dog. This time, I get to choose it, name it, and - of course - take care of it. Because, after all, we all know that whenever a new pet enters the house, no matter HOW much the kids swear, it's always Mom who ends up taking care of the critters.
I'm looking to get a beagle. A cute little beagle pup. I have very specific criteria, which were unfortunately unmet when Zo and I went puppy-shopping today. I want a dog who's medium sized (no fluffy fishbait or a dog that will take over my couch and shed everywhere). S/he needs to be kid-friendly, housebroken, energetic but not hyper, and get along with other dogs.
We met Bailey at the APA - beautiful blonde & white springer spaniel, sweet, gentle, cuddly, good with kids - but not good with other dogs. Problem, since Aunt Zo will be puppy-sitting whenever I'm out of town. And as you all know, Ms. Zo is crazy-insane-toenail-painting-in-LOVE with her doggie, Annabelle. So, no Bailey.
Then we met Rosy at the Humane Society. A beagle! Sweet, shy, friendly, a bit timid, housetrained. However, not good for kids under 13 and doesn't like men. Yikes. Ah well, Rosy will get adopted by some sweet lady. She's too nice not to!
Now, kiddo does NOT know that we're getting a dog. I wanted to make sure it was the RIGHT dog, and I didn't want to get his hopes up, since finding the perfect canine companion can take time. But I did want to see how he felt about having a dog (he's been begging for one since he was 5!).
Vi: Now, you know, if we get a dog, you're going to be responsible for picking up its poop in the yard, right?
Kiddo: EEEEEEEEWWW! No way, Mom.
Vi: Well, no poop-cleanup, no puppy.
Kiddo: *BIG sigh* Well, okay. But can I please have some gloves?
Me - laughing my head off, realizing that he LITERALLY thought I meant 'pick up the poop.'
and later....
Vi: So, kiddo, what would you name a dog if you got one?
Kiddo: Zoe. Zoe the dog.
Vi: Zoe? After Aunt Zoe? Why??
Kiddo: Because I like her.
hehehe - Zoe the dog. Zoe gave a big "awwwww" when I told her. Because when a kid says he wants to name his dog after you, it really is a compliment. ;)
DivAwwwwwwingly Yours,
Vi
It's Zander's birthday.
Love,
Momma Zo
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Oddities & Observations
You know that school has changed when the teacher tells you that your 8-year-old needs to work on his word-processing skills.
When you see a bumper sticker that says "I'd rather be Carp," what does that mean???? (And yes, it was the whole sticker - not just a torn off piece that might suggest fishing or another fanciful occupation).
There's a commercial for our local famous brewery that talks about 'mr.-way-too-much-cologne-wearer.' And I've met him. But what about 'ms.-way-too-much-perfume-wearer?' She walks by, her desensitized olfactory nerve flapping in the wind. Wearing enough perfume to gas a WWII veteran out of his easy chair. Yikes, woman! Didn't your mama tell you how to put on perfume?? Dot the pulse points, or spray once & walk through. Don't pour it on yourself like a bad Jean Naté commercial (I may be dating myself with THAT statement). Ick. Ptooey. Very unattractive.
Is it just me as I get older, or do all women notice that there is a significant population of moderately attractive, yet completely insipid men out there? I can handle - easily - a guy who isn't GQ material on the outside. But he should have something going on under the surface. And not get his pickup lines from Penthouse Forum. Gimme a break, already.
Pregnant women are beautiful. In fact, I'd have to say that I think many women are more beautiful when they are pregnant than at any other time in their lives. Not beautiful in a "gee i'd like to get you in the sack" kind of way, but in a truer, deeper form. Woman in all her manifest glory. I am woman. I am a creatrix.
And finally, science fairs. Oy vey. This was 'our' first. Kiddo made a model of what a city on Mars might look like. We talked through the questions, and I typed up the answers. Hypothesis-schmypothesis--I'm impressed he can spell the word, much less come up with one! Thank goodness for the teacher store, and the $10 pre-fab science project cardboard setup. I remember having to cut a banana box to bits in order to create my science projects. And I had to be very careful not to let my anal-retentive-perfect-presentation self come out during the process. Science Fair Stage Mom - do they exist?? I'll bet they do. I'll bet their kids are like Anthony Michael Hall in The Breakfast Club - "I can't get an F - it'll bring down my whole GPA!" Don't DO that - Don't be that mom!
That's all for me today, folks. More random moments of clarity tomorrow. :)
Divaliciously Yours,
Vi
Monday, February 23, 2004
Dear Diva(s),
Thank you for trusting in us and thinking enough of us to come to us with what is on your mind and what is going on in your life right now. It is a huge compliment that you think enough of Vi and I to share what is going on in what seems to be a dark time, if not just plain crazy, time for you. Please know we’ll hold any and all secrets close although by virtue of sharing with us we gather you have already deemed us trustworthy. Again, a huge compliment to us.
We’re always here for you and we’ll be here with only perhaps unwanted, but diva-style advice for you and God only knows what else. We’ll also be here for you with only love and no judgment.
Divahood = sisterhood in many ways.
Yours truly,
Zoë
PS – Dear Readers, if you wonder why I post this for you as well it is only because I want you to know the same goes for all. Divas and Hevas alike. Many of you have come to us since we started out and not just with Mo’Time, but since the humble beginnings of ConfessionsofaDiva.com. All for one and one for all I guess. And why stop there?…May the force be with you! Vi and I love you, babies! Diva kisses to all who read this blog. If you email this blog to 10 of your closest friends you may suddenly get a chain letter from someone promising Big Macs from McDonald’s. I can’t promise anything though...
I'm lost in science fair project hell.
back tomorrow....
Vi
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Googlicious
You know, I crack up like a crazy fool when Vi and I look through our stats to see how people came to our site. I mean, someone actually Googled “butt spray pageant”, “sanitary napkin fetish” and “dust mite pedicure”. Weirdos. Well, I don’t know. Afterall, it’s OUR site that actually popped up on such Google searches! Ha!
Well, I decided I’d be one of those weirdos today. Here are the few odd ball things I Googled just to see what would pop up. Wish I could see the faces of these folks when they get THEIR stat report!
Monkey butt eyeliner
Christina “I am so miserable” Marie’s on line diary about how much it sucks to take care of one of those fake babies (the kind that cries every couple of hours) for a class. Good thing it’s not a real baby! She talks about wanting to throw it out the window. Not sure what monkey butt eyeliner has to do with this or how I landed here but don’t you think she’d be proud I found her this way?
“I married my grandmother”
Yes. I Googled it and it came up. A woman who lives in New England and loves her MINI Cooper says “My hubby is the nicest guy. In fact, I married my grandmother.” OooohK! And that’s a compliment to him how? Nevermind.
It also came up on a website for short stories called ZOEtrope! Ha!
Horse Poop Contest
This one took me all over the place! Some of the sites include PoopReport.com and MoviePoopShoot.com. Not to mention the Poop Thesaurus and Bostom.com. Boston.com? Yep. It also took me to PittsburghLive.com to share with me contestant entries for True Love Stories. Ewwwwwww. I hope I’m never involved in a love story that involves crap! Oh wait………um……hmmm. On to the next search!
Newt Gingrich Love Child
This one gets you a short story where someone asks if they are the love child of Newt Gingrich, an alien named Futon from the planet Spork. These are beginning to render me speechless.
Thank goodness when I Googled “divas don’t exist” nothing came up! Whew! That could have been a close call……..Vi and I would have had to go all Kung Fu on someone.
There were also no entries for “world’s fastest duck”. Is no one keeping track of this sort of thing!!??? I’m horrified.
Can’t wait to see how this blog entry changes Diva Wendi’s hot bar and the next set of stats. Hopefully (crossing fingers) it’ll make for more interesting Blogfodder than this post.
Zoë
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Linoleum
I love to dance in the kitchen. I take off my real clothes and put on my jammies. Because I know who I really am when I’m wearing my pajamas. I wear my hair however it feels comfortable. Out of my face – so I don’t have to fuss with it. Or long and down so I can whip it around like a crazy woman. Free.
I sing it all. Country. Folk. The Gypsy Kings (in Spanish) although I don’t know the language. Rap. Funk. 80’s cheesy songs. It doesn’t matter to me what it is when I need to sing. It’s something I just have to do.
I usually have an audience. I rarely open my eyes long enough to really take them in though. When I sing I’m usually really alone. (Well, unless Vi is there. And even then it might depend on the song.)
I turn the music on and I turn it up loud. Mostly loud, but just low enough so I can hear my own voice. The way it starts out – singing. Singing to me, anyway. Then it turns to more yelling, I guess, as we stride towards the bridge and in to the final verses. I wave my hands in the air like some American Idol cast off and lose myself. Lunatic.
My favorite part is stamping my bare feet on the linoleum.
Zoë
