5:20am Dress silently for the gym in the dark.
5:30am Toddler appears in the doorway of his room, sniffling, says, “Why are you doing this to me?” Please, kid, only my inner thighs get to ask that.
How Every Day Begins
5:20am Dress silently for the gym in the dark.
5:30am Toddler appears in the doorway of his room, sniffling, says, “Why are you doing this to me?” Please, kid, only my inner thighs get to ask that.
I Look Like I Live in a Halfway House
I cut my own bangs. The result can be described in two words: Witness Protection.
Shake It Up
My husband bought one of those dumbbells that needs to be shaken in order to sculpt muscles. It’s called the Shake Weight, an intuitive moniker that tells you all you really need to know about it yet everyone describes the apparatus by its peculiar function. If you tell someone that you bought a Shake Weight, they’ll ask you what it is, but if you identify it as ‘that dumbbell you shake’ people nod with recognition. You can see in their eyes that they’re recalling the advertisement featuring a middle-age Caucasian male model who we are subliminally led to believe was a CPA who weighed 98 pounds and ate TV dinners alone before shaking his way to the iron-like physique we see before us. Every male member of a different race develops muscles through rigorous exercise or toiling in a field, but not the white man. He can only add heft by purchasing a fitness apparatus marketed on late-night television in between commercials for Astrologist Experts and Lonely Singles In Your Zip Code.
I’m Resolved
– Eat yogurt every day without gagging because you thought of the word ‘curd‘ and cursing anyone you have ever met who is Greek.
– Stop asking your husband if he has showered yet this day. Apply earnest effort to curb asking which day he expects he will shower.
The ‘Just Say No Message’ Never Took Hold
I am a Jehova’s Witness. Well, I’m not yet, but I may be soon so I’m trying on the proverbial dress to see if it fits. I don’t actually want to be a Witness, but I can’t seem to convey this to them and so it really may come to pass that I become one. I’m not the sort of person who would seek to become a member of Jehova’s Witnesses, or any religious sect for that matter, but I am absolutely the sort of person who would realize while folding clothes on a Tuesday that I had inadvertently done so. That’s how I became a vegetarian, and a subscriber to too many magazines, and heavily in debt to American Express, and – hell – even how I became a mother. These things have a way of sneaking up on me.
I Look Like I Live in a Halfway House
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on January 15th, 2012
I cut my own bangs. The result can be described in two words: Witness Protection.
Shake It Up
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on January 7th, 2012
My husband bought one of those dumbbells that needs to be shaken in order to sculpt muscles. It’s called the Shake Weight, an intuitive moniker that tells you all you really need to know about it yet everyone describes the apparatus by its peculiar function. If you tell someone that you bought a Shake Weight, they’ll ask you what it is, but if you identify it as ‘that dumbbell you shake’ people nod with recognition. You can see in their eyes that they’re recalling the advertisement featuring a middle-age Caucasian male model who we are subliminally led to believe was a CPA who weighed 98 pounds and ate TV dinners alone before shaking his way to the iron-like physique we see before us. Every male member of a different race develops muscles through rigorous exercise or toiling in a field, but not the white man. He can only add heft by purchasing a fitness apparatus marketed on late-night television in between commercials for Astrologist Experts and Lonely Singles In Your Zip Code.
I’m Resolved
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on December 31st, 2011
– Eat yogurt every day without gagging because you thought of the word ‘curd‘ and cursing anyone you have ever met who is Greek.
– Stop asking your husband if he has showered yet this day. Apply earnest effort to curb asking which day he expects he will shower.
Get in the Drive-Thru
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on December 27th, 2011
When a friend has a baby, she might ask you to pick up some groceries, or whip up a meal, or breastfeed her kid during the night shift – you know, depending on how close you are and the off-chance you’re lactating. If she’s a blogging friend, she’ll ask you write a guest post so that she can keep apace of the demands of a newly arranged family. There was not a moment of hesitation when The Flying Chalupa asked me to turn in a piece over the holidays because I owe her some favors as fair trade for the laughs she has given me. And, let’s be honest, no one entrusts holidays to me anyway. They don’t even let me handle scissors.
The ‘Just Say No Message’ Never Took Hold
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on December 23rd, 2011
I am a Jehova’s Witness. Well, I’m not yet, but I may be soon so I’m trying on the proverbial dress to see if it fits. I don’t actually want to be a Witness, but I can’t seem to convey this to them and so it really may come to pass that I become one. I’m not the sort of person who would seek to become a member of Jehova’s Witnesses, or any religious sect for that matter, but I am absolutely the sort of person who would realize while folding clothes on a Tuesday that I had inadvertently done so. That’s how I became a vegetarian, and a subscriber to too many magazines, and heavily in debt to American Express, and – hell – even how I became a mother. These things have a way of sneaking up on me.
They’re Trying To Disown Me
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on December 16th, 2011
I once attended an auction while my husband, G, was out of town. I’d never been to an auction and had no idea what to expect. I knew they were the playgrounds of the upwardly mobile and that if I wanted to fit in, I had better look the part. By the time the event rolled around, I was in a full-on body sweat induced by the utter void of pastels and mother-of-pearl accessories in my closet. The closest thing I had to a WASP-y ensemble was a bottle of Lithium and that was all but emptied upon checking my online bank account before rushing out the door. I felt calmer once I was there and camouflaged against a line of people appraising the items on display for bidding. I drew comfort in chortling and saying things like, “Don’t you find chicken such a pedestrian choice?” After an hour of mingling with the other guests and jotting down an offer underneath an item with a determined casual air, I was ready to go home, feeling confident I had handled my first auction with poise.
I’ve Reclaimed a Coat from Coat Check Before
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on November 29th, 2011
To know me at all is to know that I despise my kitchen floor. The loathing I feel for that floor has given me much perspective into the great conflicts of the world. Just as terrorists look upon the infidels and seethe with fury, I see my kitchen floor and want to chuck a pipe bomb at it. I understand why India hates Pakistan, why the Republicans and Democrats can’t call a ceasefire, why Demi can’t even make eye contact with Ashton. Each factor in these equations views the other as black and white checkered linoleum.
Pocahontas and John Smith: A Modern Love Story
Posted by I'm Gonna Kill Him on November 22nd, 2011
Thanksgiving of 1621 was much like the one of 2003. The Separatists had been driven out of England after years of religious persecution, forced to find a new spiritual haven. They boarded the Mayflower and sailed across the stormy Atlantic until they made landfall in Massachusetts. The Pilgrims, now reduced by half thanks to a brutal winter and contagions more rampant than those found aboard any Carnival Cruise, encountered the Wampanoag Indians at Plymouth. Eventually an accord was reached and the harvest feast was shared.
