Multicultural dancing

This is absolutely hilarious. Anyone who had seen the real Lord of the Dance will be floored. I watched it like five time. LOL!!!

Embedding, unfortunately, is disabled, but here's the link.

How I wish you were there or In the heat of the night - Part II

I was told by a fellow blogger, who shall remain unnamed, that there could be apricot ice cream in Tovelli's on Ave. M. As a chance would have it, I actually was on Ave. M today and made a small detour walked 35 minutes from my house with a stroller to Tovelli's.

Let me tell you this, Tovelli is no more. And not because I single-handedly took their establishment apart after discovering that they do NOT carry apricot ice cream or frozen yogurt or sorbet. In fact they do not carry anything apricot flavored. The thing is Tovelli went out of business and whoever took over carry only Klein's ice cream. They have some interesting flavors, but not apricot. Antisemites!

Yet I am not giving up hope! Give me apricot ice cream or give me... well, any other flavor will do, I guess.

Wake up and smell your BMI

I don't know if you are aware, but there has been a lot of fuss over some Australian beauty contestant Stephanie Naumoska whose height is 5'11" while her weight is only 108 pounds (BMI is around 15.1). I will not post pictures; those who are interested can easily find them on the net. They look scary, no healthy human being looks like that, whether she does or does not have an eating disorder.

While browsing CNN news clips, I accidentally stumbled upon the one with comments from a model Roshumba Williams about this situation. She said that the girl might not realize that she is underweight and might be in denial. Aside from the self-promoting and self-congratulatory tone of a very annoying Ms. Williams, who is not only a model, but also - get this? - a life style expert and an author of 2 books, Ms. Williams said that while being 5'11'', her healthy weight is 125 pounds. That's when the fatty accountant in me smelled something fishy, and I quickly crunched the numbers.

Drumroll!!! With these figures Ms. Williams' BMI is 17.4, well below 18.5, which is a cut-off for normal weight, and also below 18, a cut-off established by the Madrid fashion show a few years ago. So, in fact Ms. Williams is underweight, and as a life style expert, should know that. To be considered at healthy weight, Ms. Willaims needs to be at least 10 pounds heavier. While I will not tell her to eat a sandwich and claim that she is, in fact, unhealthy (after all, BMI is not fool proof in assessing health), presenting her weight as healthy is very misleading to the audience. The whole thing cemented my belief that the entire industry is in denial about their weight, health and self-image.

And by the way, what IS a life style expert?

Do they know something I don't?

I keep on receiving several calls from various financial institutions every single day offering help with my mortgage payments. I think it's nice that people are trying to be so helpful. It would be even nicer if I owned a house and had a mortgage. But I don't. Hence, I don't need their help. Unless they know something I don't, and there's a mansion somewhere with my name on it all the while we are wasting our money on rent payments.

This reminds me of the time when we just got married and kept on getting letters and calls about extending warranty on our car. Problem was we didn't have a car at the time. But it's the thought that counts, right? Who in their right mind would want to have a car and not waste money on this scam purchase an extended warranty?

It also reminds me of the time when I kept on getting several emails a day offering me to extend the size of my p'enis by an inch or two. 'Nuff said.

SubFamily has got talent

Ok, so this is a shameless attempt to make money off of my spouse and use blogger to advertise. If you feel used, please accept my half hearted and insincere heartfelt apologies. So there...

I have made several remarks about SubHub being a man of many talents. Currently we are trying to capitalize on one of them. Truth is we have been capitalizing on it for a few years, but now we are looking to do it on a larger scale. One of SubHub's hobbies is carving wood in a special way. He doesn't make wooden figurines, but rather designs on a wooden plane. He also builds things from wood, like shelving units. But carving is really his hobby and even passion. So right now he is making custom made shtenders aka as standers. If anyone is interested or knows someone who could be interested, please let me know. (My email is subjugatedwife@gmail.com) They are truly one of a kind and would make a nice special gift. Below is just an example of one of his creations. Keep in mind that my photographic skills are kind of poor. I can't find pictures of other things he had done previously, but will try to find for future posts.






Thank you in advance.

I say goodbye and you say hello

Okay, folks, don't get alarmed, but we are now officially members of a cult, the Hello Kitty cult. How could this have possibly happened? I don't quite understand. This pink atrocity of an animal has been around for years (if it were a real cat it would've been dead by now and buried to loud cheers of parents forced and manipulated into making regular monetary contributions to this cult). I remember being in my teens when I learned about Hello Kitty and that my friends' kids were into it. Right then and there I solemnly swore that I would not be a part to this rip off and my kids would not make me buy them this overpriced - what's the word, the printable word - garbage. I also hoped by the time I would have kids, the craze would be over. I was wrong on both counts, so hello, hello, stupid (Mom, that's a bad word) kitty.

The slope downward started when we went to Target and they had coloring and activity Hello Kitty books on sale, just a buck. I owed DD a prize for something, so a $1 book seemed like a bargain. Well, bargain my behind! It was a trap, TRAP!!! Once DD realized that she can get this stuff, stuff that I resisted to buy for months, she started begging for stickers, pencils, etc every time she saw them. Last Sunday my resistance was once again broken and I have been suckered into buying Hello Kitty stickers. And so it starts. I still hope to win this, but deep down I know I can win a battle or two, but the war is lost, and we will be bringing forth $$$ sacrifices and offerings to this feline from this day on.

Does anyone know if there are Hello, Bitch stickers? Would they help with our kitty situation?

In the heat of the night

Wish to congratulate everyone on the start of the air conditioning and consequently high electricity bills season! Those who were complaining about an unusually long cold weather got their wish, bleh! No more baking, farewell to home made cakes and pizza, roasted potatoes and peppers, baked fish and chicken. On the other hand, welcome unapologetic consumption of ice cream!

Which reminds me, last night a had a huuuuge craving for apricot ice cream. I could not remember for the life of me when and where on earth I have had apricot ice cream/frozen yogurt or was it just a figment of my imagination and I never actually had it? Hmm... If any one of you has any idea where I could get one, please drop a comment. (Could it have beeb one of those Israeli five-flavored tubs? Anyone? I am stuck at home and can't check out my theory.) The craving is gone, but the mystery of where I had or hadn't this flavor of ice cream is still bothering me.

Baby post - I know, not creative, but I am going through a creativity crisis

I got my first smile from the baby yesterday! Yoo-hoo for me! Mom claims that the baby smiled at her 2 weeks ago, and SubHub - few days ago. I think those are unsubstantiated rumors and consider my smile to be first.

**********************

I finally feel vindicated. Someone I know confirmed my theory that not everyone loses weight from breastfeeding, and some of us actually gain. A lot. She told me she gained and couldn't lose an ounce until she stopped nursing. And she's one of those lucky people who is naturally skinny and never had to diet in her life. Phew, and I thought it was only me. And yeah, just shows that Heidi Murkoff doesn't know everything. Still it's not very comforting when my weight is creeping up again. Uhhr!

*********************

Yeah, and I am starting a CONTEST to name the baby. For the blog only, of course. In real life she has a name, thankyouverymuch. I have one idea: DD2. Or I could assign ages: DD4, DS3 and DD0, but the last one is kind of strange and creepy. Neither is very creative so I am fishing for better options and counting on creativity of those three people who read my blog. However, nothing with the "sub" prefix because all my kids are "super". The prize? The satisfaction of knowing that you helped a fellow blogger during a creativity crisis. And seeing that name being used on my blog.

Ok, I am off to nurse, change poopy diapers and solicit more smiles. :)

Quote of the Month - May '09

I have been enjoying a guilty pleasure recently. Now that I am tied to a nursing/kvetching kid several hours a day, with many of these hours falling very late at night when everyone else is sleeping, I had to find something to entertain myself during that time. And yes, for all those concerned, I do interact with my child during these precious moments, but when rocking the kid gets tough at 2 a.m, I think I am entitled to something decadent. So that guilty pleasure is 3rd Rock From the Sun DVDs. While watching these, I came across the following conversation, which was kind of perfect for the moment.

(A little background info. This show is about 4 aliens who assume human bodies to learn about Earth and its inhabitants.)

Lieutenant: Why am I the woman?
High Commander: Because you lost.

I just LOOOOVE this quote.

Baby you can drive me nuts, but baby I love you

In my deranged state of constant sleep deprivation, I decided to keep DS home today - to save money and foster some mother-son bonding Well, really in the opposite order, but whatever. At 8.30 SubHub leaves with DD and we are on our own.

DS's baby sister refuses to cooperate and keeps on whining asking for attention. So in the absence of his big sister, DS has to find a way to entertain himself. He starts by raiding every kitchen drawer in search of candy and of course finds it. I allow one, he eats two and begs for more. I put my foot down and he agrees. I am surprised.

Two minutes later, still surprised, I find him munching on chocolate, taking bites off an entire bar. I confiscate the chocolate, sigh, mentally compliment DS on his survival skills, and take a bite of chocolate myself when I am out of DS's sight. What? I need some mental and physical reinforcement, and in my book chocolate is better than Prozac. Right?

"Mama, may I watch a cartoon?" "No, we are supposed to bond"

While the baby is still whining, at 9.05 DS finally finds his toy plane. I am grateful for an opportunity to brush teeth when the baby finally falls asleep. By the time I am done with my teeth, the baby is awake (no, I did not take 2 hours or hid in the bathroom from the kids, not today). While she nurses, I mentally note that the apartment smells really nice. Nice. Finally a break. Mmm....

At 9.15 I find my underwear drawer turned upside down. Ugh, I hate organizing the drawers in my drawers. (My lame attempt at joking. Give me a break, I am sleep deprived, OK?) What was he looking for? Lucky for DS, my attention span is very short. I start a load of laundry and in the process realize why the apartment smells so good: DS's plane needed refueling and there's no better fuel than Mommy's perfume. You know, the one they sell only in fancy stores and that costs like $70 a sniff. I take away the perfume.

"Mama, may I watch a cartoon?" "No, we are supposed to be bonding" (A tad louder than the last time.)

At 9.25 I find my underwear drawer messed up yet again. Ughrrrrr! Did I mention I HATE HATE HATE organizing that thing? Especially after doing it only 10 minutes ago? What could he possibly be looking for?! I run looking for DS and find him with another bottle of my perfume. I finally make the connection between messed up underwear drawer and perfume - I hid my perfume from children so well that I forgot it was there. I mentally thank DS for finding my perfume and congratulate on his ingenuity though verbally I chide him for using half of my smelling supplies. I try to confiscate precious liquid, but DS breaks down crying: he needs something that makes pshh pshh to refuel his plane. A real tragedy might happen if he doesn't get where he intends to get on that plane. We settle on my deodorant.

"Mama, may I watch a cartoon?" "Nooooo"

Still hoping for some bonding experience with DS, I try something we can do together only to be derailed by a wailing baby. At least I will be in the same room with him. I enter the living room and immediately start sneezing uncontrollably - whatever makes deodorant go pshh pshh, also makes me sneeze until brains start dripping down my nose.

"Mama, may I watch a cartoon?" "No"

It's only 9.40, and I am ready to depilate my head. Good thing I cover my hair.

At 9.50 he finds my very fragile amber necklace. For a few minutes I pretend that I don't notice he has it. I can no longer do so when DS starts handling it with one of his father's tools. By the way, where is his father?

By 10 am , I am ready to give DS a very different bonding experience: I contemplate tying him to a chair to prevent damage to our apartment. I decide against it, but only after making a long list of pros and cons, all while nursing the poor baby who is still kvetching.

"Mama, may I watch a cartoon?" "No"

The next 45 minutes pass in a blur, I might have passed out from the deodorant gasses for all I know or from sleeping only in hourly increments for the past month. By 10.45 I break down and put a cartoon for DS.

At 11.15 am, SubHub comes home and starts on his woodworking project. He takes DS with him to the porch, much to DS's delight. They bond... (Why are these things easier for men? Or is there something wrong with me?)

It's 11.45 am, and DS and I are making faces through the window at each other while I rock the kvetching baby. Ahhh, finally some bonding experience...

Are you related?

There are times when I just can't find anything worthy or interesting to write about. Now is clearly the opposite: I have tons and tons of - what I consider - interesting topics. Many posts are hovering in my head only to be forgotten or become outdated because I simply have no time to post them. Such is life, we are destined to lack something. Therefore, I have decided to just blog whatever bothers/interests me right now, in the shortest form possible (given my propensity for verbal diarrhea, it is not easy feat or a guarantee for a short post), and leave philosophical discussions/topics requiring more thought or memory cells for later. So this post will be my attempt at being brief.

I was browsing news last night (while nursing, or course), and came across an entertainment snippet about Nicolette Sheridan leaving Desperate Housewives. Along came the actress' close up photo, which clearly showed signs of "work" and looked kind of bizarre.

I am always perplexed when I come across such pictures of famous actresses. What were they thinking? I mean I am aware that the business they are in is very competitive and looks are important and all. All the more reasons to not make oneself look grotesque. And is it me or do these "made over" actresses all look like clones or at the very least as if they were related: unnaturally high cheekbones, cat-like eyes, botoxed skin and collagen-filled lips? And more importantly not only do they lose their uniqueness, they look SO MUCH worse than before! So many have ruined their beautiful faces that would've aged gracefully or at least not as atrociously as after the procedures performed by cosmetic surgeons. Christa Miller, Meg Ryan, Priscilla Presley, Melanie Griffith and Mickey Rourke are just a few names that come to mind. Why? Why? Why?

FAQ

As any preggie knows, unless she lives in a cave (and if she does, my problems will seem very petty to her), some people's reactions to pregnant women are very peculiar. These people feel obligated to make a comment, ask a question, share a horrific labor/delivery story (my personal favorite!) or touch your stomach every time they see you, even if they see you three times a day. Usually it's the same people, the same comments, the same questions - you get the drill. Often these comments are made, though in good nature and with best intentions in mind, without slightest regard to preggie's desires to discuss pregnancy and her state of mind (like being afraid, no petrified, no scared to death about any complications).

So after careful consideration I came up with the following T-shirt for myself. I never got to making one, but was close to pinning the sign with the following text on my huge (thank you for bringing it up, folks, like three hundred times a day!) stomach:

Due date is March,
I am huge,
Pregnancy is uncomfortable,
Sex is unknown,
Labor will hurt.
Please send further inquiries and comments in written form to the trash basket of your choice.

Thank you!

P.S. My being annoyed at this does not mean that I myself do not engage in similar behavior.

(January 20, 2009)