Tag Archives: fake pants

Shhh! Secret Single Behaviors

What do I do that I don’t want my boyfriend to see?

Since I’m now cohabiting with Kiefer, I rewatched an episode of Sex and the City that tackled that question.

Carrie stands in the kitchen eating jelly on crackers. Charlotte studies her pores. What are my secret single behaviors? What will Kiefer see that he doesn’t see now? And what will I have to change/hide?

  1. Eyebrow plucking. I mean…I don’t pluck. My eyebrows are just naturally that thin.
  2. After showering, I wander around in a towel. Sometimes it falls off…and I don’t bother putting it back on right away.  You can do that when it’s just you.
  3. I talk to Esme using the baby voice: Who’s a pretty kitty?
  4. I crank the music and run around lipsyncing into my hairbrush.
  5. I’ll gladly stay in my pajamas all day. Or get dressed, run to the grocery store, and change back into my pajamas when I return home.
  6. Esme loves chips. Sometimes I toss her one. Sometimes instead of eating it, she pushes it under the couch. Sometimes I forget to pick it up.
  7. Pants. I hate ’em. I hate wearing ’em, and I hate sleeping in ’em.
  8. Most of  my fake pants are too short to be Boo-Radley-appropriate.

What else should I be worried about (besides sharing a bathroom with Boo and Radley)?

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I used to have a Strawberry Shortcake doll. And by “used to” I mean, I still have her. Two of them actually…. Brad loves them. I think that’s why he keeps tucking them away in the corner of the attic, and then I keep getting them out and putting them on our bed to surprise him. It’s pretty much his favourite game.”—Queen Gen


I’m in the 25th Grade

Me: I’m taking another sign language class.

Mom: Aren’t you tired of going to school?

Me: Never!

Some days I am tired of going to school. But it’s the act of going, not the learning. If class could come to me, right into my bedroom where I could learn while wearing fake pants, that would be ideal.

I’m 30 years old, and I’ve been in school for most of my life. Here’s a brief history:

  • In 5th grade, I kicked a** at math.
  • In 11th grade, I lost my math smarts.
  • I graduated college in December 2002: a semester early because I was tired of school.
  • By that spring, I was taking Business graduate classes.
  • By the following fall, I decided Business really wasn’t for me. Too much math involved.
  • A few months later, I started Education graduate classes.
  • About a year later, I switched to Humanities graduate classes.
  • Then I took a year off, only to take belly dancing classes and learn to ride a motorcycle instead.
  • Next came the English graduate classes.

You: So you have masters credits in 3 different subjects. Seriously, Thoughtsy. Make up your mind.

  • Once I completed my English Masters, I started teaching at the local community college. Ah-ha! I’m in charge now!
  • Three semesters later, I dropped teaching and started learning American Sign Language (ASL).

I’ll finish the ASL program in about 2-3 years. Then…no more school. Ever.

But…it would be cool to learn Italian. And maybe Spanish.


You Remind Me of the Babe

You remind me of the babe. What babe? The babe with the power. What power? The power of voodoo. Who do? You do. Do what? Remind me of the babe.

Have you ever noticed that the movie Labyrinth is a lot like The Wizard of Oz?

Let’s do a comparison:

  • Munchkins = Goblins (avoids the issue of how PC the term “Munchkins” is)
  • Dorothy = Sarah (except brattier and more dramatic)
  • “There’s no place like home.” = “You have no power over me.” (more feminism)
  • Yellow Brick Road = Labyrinth (The road was too easy.)
  • Wicked Witch of the West = David Bowie (except more fashionable)

The similarities are amazing, aren’t they?

It’s a tale as old as time. Girl ends up in a strange land. She makes some new friends. They travel to the Emerald/Goblin City. Someone melts or turns into an owl. Happens all the time.

Rewatching this movie just proved how oblivious innocent I was as a child. As an adult, I kept staring at David Bowie’s…pants.

Dude...Stop looking at my...pants!

I did manage to take some notes about what I learned from the movie:

  • If you want goblins to take away your baby brother, just say, “I wish the goblins would come take you away.”
  • An oubliette is a place you put people…to forget about them.
  • Watch out for poison apples peaches.
  • Fairies bite; they don’t grant wishes.
  • The only person who grants wishes is Bowie in crotch-hugging pants.
  • Slapping babies will make them pee.

This movie should have included a tutorial on how to do that crystal ball spinning thing. But since it didn’t, the most important thing I learned is David Bowie may be Macaulay Culkin’s inspiration.

The Originator of the Home Alone Face


A Guest Post From My Blog Wife

I’d like to introduce you to my blog wife, Mrs. Amy Thoughts Appear. Or is it Ms.? Or Amy Fix-It-Or-Deal-Appear? Craaaaap. We didn’t discuss how Amy felt about changing her name. Or maybe I should change my name?

Let’s just stick with Amy at Fix It or Deal.

I can’t tell you how happy I was when I got the email from Thoughtsy letting me know that she had chosen me as her blog wife. Seriously, I can’t tell you. I got a reputation to keep, ya know. Anyway, let’s just say that I was “overly pleased,” and I may have needed a tissue.

We’re quite perfect for each other. I like zombies; she likes zombies. I like movies; she likes movies. I like cupcakes; she bakes cupcakes. It’s a match made in cyberspace.

So, what’s the best way for me to express my devotion to my new blog wife? With an homage, of course.

Without further ado, I present: What Thoughts Appear’s Blog Has Taught Me

  • Pop-Tarts have a very loyal following, and flavor preferences are a very personal thing.
  • If you pay close enough attention, you can learn something from any movie. Even one about arctic Nazi zombies.
  • Florida has an amazing wolf sanctuary where the wolves will walk right up and sit on your lap. (And I experienced it for myself!)
  • There is such as thing as “fake pants.”
  • The US Army Physical Fitness Test is something that I never, ever want to attempt and push-ups are from the devil.
  • If you eat something that is amazingly tasty, it probably has crack in it.
  • There are a lot more steps to riding a mechanical bull than I ever imagined possible.
  • David Zincenko is quite possibly the most miserable man on the planet and really, truly just needs to eat a funnel cake and live a little. Just do it, David. You know you wanna.

Many thanks to my blog wife for letting me take over her blog for a day. But, I guess what’s yours is mine now, right? Except your Pop-Tarts. I would never take those. It’s always good to know your boundaries in a marriage.

Amy, I will totally share my Pop-Tarts with you. That’s why they come in a 2-pack…for sharing.


Put Your Fake Pants On

So Blarney is back from her work trip to Seattle. And that makes me sad.

Wait. Let me clarify that statement. I’m happy Blarney’s back because I missed her.

However, her return means only one thing: I have to start wearing clothes. More specifically, I have to start wearing pants. (Lorraine, I know you feel me on this one.)

Every day after work, I exercise, shower, towel off, air dry (Crap! No more nekkid dashes from the shower to the bedroom.) while dancing around the room to Can’t Touch This, and then throw on pajamas.

Unless Kiefer and I are going out for dinner…then I have to get dressed again. In real clothes. Twice in one day. The things I do for love.

Which brings me to the difference between real pants and fake pants.

Blarney (calling up the stairs): Thoughtsy, so-and-so is coming over in 5 minutes.

Me: I guess I need to put real pants on.

Blarney: Silence. But I’m pretty sure she was thinking, Real pants? What is she wearing upstairs? Are her pants painted on? Are they invisible pants? Is she wearing MC Hammer pants? I have just moved in with a crazy woman.

Me (reading Blarney’s mind): As opposed to fake pants. Meaning I should cover all of my jiggly bits…entirely.

Everyone has their own fake pants. My fake pants happen to be super comfy pajamas shorts with super cute prints…except they are super short and super expose my super jiggly thighs, which no one (besides Kiefer and Blarney) should be subjected to.

Got it? Super.

Do you have fake pants?