It's getting to be time for something I always know I'm going to have to do, but it often seems like I have to do it every stinking year, and although I dread it I know that the alternative is far worse than the mission: Buying new underpants.

I can always tell when the underpants I have are going south (hahaha) because the elastic starts to go. Mind you, I buy really cheap underpants because I know that in a year or so, I'm going to get irritated with them and throw them all out and start over again.

Is that weird? I don't really have an underwear buying table to tell me when they've passed the peak of comfort and meandered into the realm of unsalvageable.

The first sign is that I start getting wedgies all of the time. That stage has already come and gone (well, not gone, but I've gotten used to it). I am pretty much prying my underpants out of my butt every fifteen minutes. It's annoying, but not as annoying as the second stage.

The second stage is the delightful time when the material is so stretched out (I buy my underpants a little on the large side, as I enjoy the extra, extra coverage) that there are left-over underpants parts that aren't covering anything; rather, they're bunching up in wads under my pants, making it look like I have horrendous meandering cellulite patches.

Not a good part.

I'll know, though, that it's time to say goodbye when I reach the end stage. This is the stage we are rapidly approaching. The final countdown, if you will. The time when my underpants start unraveling around the outside and the thin elastic waistband separates from the body of the underpants, much like a rocket losing parts as it shoots into the sky.

Less magical than that, but there you go.

I am allergic to elastic, so I have to choose underpants with a minimum of areas where the elastic is uncovered. I can usually avoid it everywhere but the waist, where I have learned to tolerate the itchy rashyness that the elastic brings.

Also, I am cheap and non-elastic underwear is way too pricey for something in which I am going to contain my undercarriage. Seriously.

So I'm guessing we might make it to Thanksgiving, but I doubt if they'll hold much longer. I noticed some pretty severe lumpy action yesterday, and the elastic has already started to separate on a couple of pairs.

Maybe this is normal. Or maybe it's a conspiracy by underwear manufacturers to force me to go underwear shopping every year. I don't know, but it's a big pain in my butt.

Darn you, Fruit of the Loom.

Well, I know my new, new mattress (the one to replace the one the kids broke finally came on Saturday, so I got to see how it looks with the bedskirt and everything all done...it's awesome) is the best mattress in the world, because for the most part, I've been sleeping really deeply. Sort of like when I was a kid.

There is a drawback, though. I would rather not have dreams, or, really, I'd rather not remember them, and I'm sleeping all the way until the alarm goes off, so I'm having them and remembering them.

Which kind of sucks.

It's not like they're horror-movie style dreams, with someone wielding an axe and chasing me through the woods. It's more sinister than that.

I have dreams about work.

Nothing out of the ordinary or unusual. I just dream a whole day at work. In all of its boring, mind-numbing glory. This morning, I woke up just as dream me was preparing to go downstairs and pull charts.

Seriously. I am dreaming work in real time.

It's lame. It's the only drawback to this whole "sea of bed" thing.

(Ooh, and it is a sea of bed, too. It's gargantuan. I can lay on that bad boy sideways, if I want to.)

But anyway, I'm hoping that I start having some kind of dream that doesn't involve the banality of my office. Because it's boring enough having to be there during the day that I really don't want to have to dream the day all over again.

I would rather dream a commute. Or a trip to the grocery store. Or house cleaning. Anything other than charts and files and computers.

Oh, well. At least I'm not dreaming about raking up dog poop in the backyard. That would probably be worse, because of the smell.

I read this interesting article the other day about Renee Zellweger and her face. Now, usually, I think these articles are kind of full of crap, but this one was pretty good, and it made me realize that I am pretty judgmental about elective plastic surgery for women. The whole point of the article was that it's Zellweger's face, and none of us has any right to pass judgment on her for choosing to change it. 

I realized that I do that a lot.

Like, really a lot.

And I probably shouldn't.

I am descended from a long line of pale, pasty people who wrinkle like nobody's business. Apparently, I skipped the vast amounts of grey hair in my 20s gene, but boy, did I get the wrinkles. And right now, I'm in my mid 30s and coping with a lot of water and a tub o' wrinkle cream, but in about ten years, I'm going to have to figure something out. While I don't think I'll go for a face lift, I like to think that I would be able to make that choice without a bunch of people mocking me and making me feel even worse about myself.

Like Renee Zellweger.

So I'm going to try really hard not to be so crappy about the way other people look. It's all my own insecurities being reflected in somebody els's face, anyway. Maybe I should just be nicer.

I can do this. I can do nice.

I can.

I swear.

At any rate, maybe if I'm not such a turd about other women's surgical choices, they won't give me too much crap when I go in for a complete overhaul. Including an everything reduction and a fancy new nose. And eyebrows that will somehow be two inches higher on my face. 

I don't think I'll ever do it, but it's nice to have the option.

I think some people are a little too free with their opinions. I'm all for a person speaking his or her mind, but when it's insulting to another person, it's probably a better idea for a person to keep it quiet.

For example, I get comments about my hair a lot. From a lot of people, but certain people are worse than others. Here's the deal, though: IT'S MY HAIR.

Yep. Growed it muhself.

At any rate, why would a person feel so free to make so many comments about something that, quite frankly, isn't any of his or her business?

I mean, it's one thing if I would've asked. But I didn't. Because I've decided that no matter how much everybody else likes something about me, if I don't like it, it's going to bug me. So I need to like it. I occasionally ask my husband, because his opinion matters, but that's about it.

When did it no longer become necessary to keep not-nice comments to ourselves? If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, and all of that? Did someone decide that that's no longer necessary and just not let me know?

Also, do people not realize how neurotic and self-scrutinizing some of us are? Especially about hair and clothes. It's hard enough to feel presentable enough to walk out the door without hitting the weekly, "Are you ever going to grow out your hair again? It looked so much better that way."

(Seriously. I get that every week at least once, and from the same person. UGH.)

And I try to laugh about it. I try to respond with a joke, but the problem is, it's just so rude that I don't feel like I should even respond. However, I've been conditioned not to be rude (thanks, Mom), so I feel like I have to just brush it aside.

But, every week? Every stinking week? I wish I could understand the motivation. Does that person really think I'm going to grow my hair out because that person prefers long hair? Really? Seriously? Because, quite honestly, I think it's my head and my hair and my time, and no one should try to make another person feel bad about the way she looks. It's mean. It's like middle school.

Also, did the people who feel so free to make disparaging comments to me (you wouldn't believe how many people feel like it's appropriate to critique my hair, lack of makeup, and clothing choices) ever stop and think that maybe I don't particularly enjoy their fashion choices? Because I don't. But I am an adult, so I find something nice to say and move on.

Reading this, you might say to yourself, "Grown people can't actually be saying things to another grown person about her hair and stuff on a daily basis." I wouldn't believe it myself, if it didn't keep happening.

Maybe it's just because people kind of suck. It's not like I have a mohawk (although that would be awesome) or anything really over-the-top in the way of clothing, or anything indecent or showing bits of skin that oughtn't to be seen in public. I just have certain kinds of clothes that I like, and I don't wear makeup every day because I think that men invented makeup so I would have to get up half an hour earlier every day, and I'm not buying into that. And I like interesting shoes. 

Oh, well. I guess that's just how it is. Some of us are the observers and some are the commentators. However, if you are a commentator, you ought to take into account the size of the person to whom you're giving your ever-so-valuable opinion.

One of these days, she might go all Incredible Hulk on you.

This semester of ceramics is all about raku firing. I have been pretty happy with the stuff I've made thus far, but yesterday I made something that came out so well, I almost couldn't believe I made it myself.

See, raku is the least appealing class to me, because it involves a ton of variables and it also involves putting your pottery into a burning garbage can and then putting it in a another garbage can full of newspaper and straw and stuff, and then hosing it off. Seriously. That whole process is just really chaotic.

But sometimes cool stuff comes out.

I still don't like the idea of working really hard on a pot or some other piece and then subjecting it to a glaze that may or may not come out. Because I've had so much trouble with my glazes, that scares the crap out of me.

Apparently, this stuff comes out differently every time, and that just makes me crazy.

However, last night, my things were in the burning garbage can with someone else's things, and their things CHANGED THE COLOR OF MINE. That's like magic. Actually, that's like chemistry, but still.

Holy unicorns, Batman. You should see what I did.

Wait. This isn't the 1930s. You can totally see what I made.

Yep. I made that. Pretty exciting.

There is no way I'm going to be able to concentrate on anything for the rest of the week. Just putting that out there.

At any rate, I think I'm learning to like raku. It's still kind of difficult for me to try things that have uncertain outcomes, but I guess even the things I think are going to be certain aren't, really. 

How very philosophical of me. 

I've been thinking a lot about friends lately. Not necessarily mine, just people's friends, in general, and a few who seem to just be really crappy at being friends. Now, I freely admit to being a flaky friend. I have way too much work going on in my life and not enough free time, and that is definitely something I need to work on.

However, there is a specific kind of friend that makes me wonder: Is this person really a friend, or is it better to just drift away and find someone else on whom to expend one's time and energy?

It seems a little ridiculous to me to expect a person to do everything he's asked, but to never reciprocate. It also seems ridiculous to never call just to say hi, but only when the friend needs something. Finally, it seems the most ridiculous of all to completely ignore the person when a newer, funner person comes along.

Actually, that's not ridiculous. That's just plain crap.

So, maybe you have a friend like that. Or worse, maybe you ARE a friend like that. Take a moment to think about it, won't you? Maybe your friends would actually like it if you didn't demand anything of them for five minutes. Maybe she would appreciate mattering as much to you as you do to her. Maybe he's tired of always being the one on whom you depend, and would like, for once, to be someone who's cared about and not just used for what he can do for you.

Or maybe you're just a big old turd, and not worth the time.

Also, maybe I'm a little annoyed by a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with me, so I'm taking it out on a bunch of people who aren't actually in the situation to which I'm referring (which has nothing to do with any of my fabulous friends who read this, either, by the way). 

But, still. I am trying to learn from this that I need to make sure my friends know that I love them, even when I don't need anything from them but their friendship. It's probably a good idea, because I do love them, and they are fabulous, and I don't even deserve the sparkliness of their presence.

(Also, I have a new, big bed. Have I mentioned that? It is big. Like, I can roll over about fifty times and even then I'm just barely approaching my husband's side. It's ginormous.

I'm a little distracted by the newness. It's definitely the coolest thing ever.)

Well, the new bed came.

Aaaaaaaaaand it's broken.

See, the kids who delivered it came and while they were taking it our of the truck, they dropped the mattress really hard, squarely on one corner. So one corner of the mattress is all bendy and damaged.

Yep. Knew something had to happen to temper that, "I'm so excited I'm going to pee my pants!" feeling.

Then, after the delivery debacle (I had to try to teach a lesson during the delivery because I had a kid already there and they were way early, which pretty much never happens), we left to go uptown to dinner and a movie (which we never do but there was a movie we really wanted to see and it was its last night in the theater) but the road was blocked off from an accident. It took so long to get up there that we were going to miss the movie if we went to dinner, so we got in line at the drive-thru at McD's.

Yep. Sat there, and sat there, and sat there. No movement and we were blocked in. When it became apparent that we were going to miss the movie anyway, we decided to just go and have Chinese food and then go home and watch a movie.

Guess who was at the restaurant? 

Mmhmm. The furniture department manager (who had been out of the office when we called to let them know that the kids left us with a new, busted mattress). Yeah, we talked to him and he was really nice, but it was a wee bit embarrassing.

I don't know why. I just get embarrassed.

So, yeah. New mattress. Slept on it, like it, still want a new one without a broken corner. Not excited anymore, but I am really happy with my new comforter and pillows and things.

Life, you're always killing the excitey stuff. Why?

I have decided to stealthily take over the world. With what, one might rightfully ask?

With sass.

Now, keep in mind that I do not, in and of myself, possess a great quantity of sass. I do believe that I can make up for my lack of sass by siphoning small quantities of sass from others.

Trust me, they won't even miss it.

I just need to design and fabricate a sass-conduction device. Then, I can use that device, along with the small amount of sass with which I have been endowed, and I will have enough sass to put my plan into work.

I believe I know enough people with enough spare sass that this plan could work.

The only hang-up might be making a device that is sensitive enough to figure out the difference between, sass and, say, plasma. I don't want any bodily fluids. Because, gross. Sass has no fluid content. As a matter of fact, it has no gaseous content either. It is not really a solid, liquid, or gas. Hmmm. This might be a problem.

As one can plainly see, I haven't really thought this plan through. However, I am not a scientist. Maybe I need one of those, too.

Crap.

I'm already done with this plan. It's too hard. Maybe I should just forge ahead with the whole, "work until you're 70, then retire and watch The Price is Right all day" plan. Yeah. Probably just going with that one.

Oh, well. It seemed like it was going to be awesome, but most of my plans do, before they fail miserably. It was going to be like this:

from modernweb.com

Yep. Just like that. I was going to be bigger than Oprah.

There seems to be a proliferation of advice-giving lately. Especially from twenty-year-old people who are just experiencing things for the first time and feel they have some valuable information to impart to the rest of us. To those delightful youngsters, I would like to repay your kind words with this nugget of wisdom: DON'T.

I realize that it seems like you've gone through stuff and lived through worse than most, but you haven't. Plus, we've all been doing this long enough that we've thought the thoughts you're thinking many times over. Trust me, your brilliant plan is probably not going to work. Also, consider that we lived through a time when most of us didn't have cable, there was no Netflix, and smartphones didn't exist. Most people didn't even have cell phones, and cordless phones were considered luxurious.

So, seriously. DON'T.

For most of my pre-college education, all research was done in the library. The actual building. No internet research. Can you imagine how many hours that took?

When I was in school, we were actually required to learn how to do things like math and spelling. No joke. That's how we all ended up being less stupid than you. Really. I had a job when I was 12: A paper route. My parents didn't just hand out money for nothing. Most people's parents didn't. Shockingly enough, they were hoping we'd be self-sufficient.

Newlyweds, take note: I have been with my husband for 21 years, married for twelve. My parents have been married for 44 years. Lots of people have been married that long or even longer. We have actually figured out some stuff during all of that time. Please do not feel like you need to post Facebook statuses with advice for all of us every fifteen minutes. Seriously. It just makes us want to punch you in your smug little faces; however, we quickly realize we don't need to because life is going to take care of that for us.

I realize this may sound bitter.

I'm actually not. My life is pretty stinking awesome. It's just highly irritating to check my Facebook every morning and read the vast assortment of "wisdom of the ages" posts or people bragging about what an awesome marriage they have when they've only been in it for an hour or so, or what a great parent they are when they haven't even made it past diapers.

Talk to me after ten years and then maybe you get to say something. Marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. School is hard.

See a trend there? LIFE is hard. It just is. There's not a lot of coasting. But there's always someone out there who has it worse than you, so you should probably just be grateful and stop trying to tell everyone else how awesome you are and just how you did it.

Most of us don't care, anyway. We're just trying to hold it all together until we have a day off to sit around the house in our underwear, drinking beer and binge-watching Bridezillas.

Or maybe that's just me.

I think I may need a nap.

We've been without internet access since Monday morning. In addition to being ridiculous, because how can they say that 200+ people's internet services are down, and not fix it IMMEDIATELY?

I got shows to watch on Netflix, man.

Fortunately, we have DVDs of some of our favorite shows, so last night we got to watch some good TV, but have you ever tried walking on a treadmill with no TV? That's just ridiculous. And I can't walk outside because my sinuses are still all pluggy and infected and whatnot. Stupid.

Also, I couldn't stream Pandora while I was cooking, so I was stuck listening to...get this...CDs. Yep, I actually listened to a real, live CD. It was crazy old-fashioned. I almost couldn't handle it.

Also, I read a book yesterday morning instead of looking at Facebook and playing my computer games for half an hour while I drink my coffee. It was actually pretty nice.

(Off topic, but I just discovered that my computer spell-checks the word "for" and changes it to the word "fro." That is awesome.)

I feel like I got much less work done this week, but it was kind of nice. Not necessarily a state of being that I would relish permanently, but a change of pace.

That being said, I better get on my Criminal Case game. I haven't fed my virtual boxer puppy since Monday, and I have energy points just sitting there, waiting for me to use them. It's an emergency.

This was me this morning, when I awoke and saw the beautiful glow of my modem.....

from galleryhip.com