Sweet and Sour Ideas

After a hard day of crunching numbers, spending time with loved ones, chores, bills, etc. I like to take at least an hour or two a day to unwind.   Some folks enjoy a little bit of tai chi, meditation, yoga, a hot bath even.  I like to surf the net at night to find my inner peace.  Not the depressing news but more “Recreational” surfing.  There are a certain number of sites I go to regularly to giggle and read about things that apply to me and my mine.  Some are silly, some are serious, but most of them lull me into a better sense of self and allow me to schluff off the days stressful vibes.

One evening I ran across a topic I was unfamiliar with, Chindogu.  Chindogu is the Japanese art of taking existing inventions and making them better, so to speak.  It is a great concept but it seems to be a bit out of hand and the term is now known more for making existing or new objects ridiculously useless.  After digging a bit deeper into this subject and of inventions all together, I found what I believe are the worst inventions ever.  These gems take the innovation and drive behind the cotton gin and the light bulb and flush them right down the toilet.

Please enjoy the top 5 of what I consider to be the worst inventions ever.  In no particular order.

The Hair Splash Guard

I can see where they were going with this, but I have found when I am eating spaghetti or some sort of wet noodle it gets on my shirt not in my hair.  Have I been walking around with foo young hair this entire time and no one said anything???  Maybe a shower cap and a lobster bib would be more acceptable in a dining atmosphere than a rubber lions mane.

The Flipper Heels

I understand the need to be fashionable at all times.  I do.  But let’s work on beautifying the snorkel before we slap 3 inch heels on swimming flippers.  How would one even attempt to walk in these?  Anyone with a you tube clip will win a years worth of jams and jellies.  OK, not really but I would still like to see someone do runway in these.

The Cinch Waist

This never has nor ever will be an option in my book.  Hey everyone I have a 36 inch waist!  Come see it is here right under my brushed nickel belt buckle.  I have spent time trying to get into the head of the inventor of this but all I picture is Susan Powder and I never like to picture Susan Powder.

The Jump

It can’t be called a jump rope without the rope.  Yes my friends this is a ropeless jump rope.  We have hit the epitome of laziness when we have decided to remove the most important part of the exercise.  This device allows you to jump in place, Mock Roping as I like to call it, and it counts how many times.  I can do that and still have $19.95 in my wallet for a smoothie afterward.  I can’t wait for the lawsuits when those pretty blue egg things hit someone or someones Flat screen TV.

Woofers

Speakers themselves are not a new invention.  Decapitating a plastic dog to use them, now that is a new concept.  Where is the head?  Do I get to re-attach it when I am done with my listening needs?  I am shocked there was a financial backer for these beauties.

There were several others I found.  But it would take nine blogs to showcase the hilarity that is “Bad inventions.”  I don’t want you to think though that I would leave you all with five bad inventions and not leave you with one good one.

While web boarding and giggling at bad inventions I came across the most innovative idea I had heard of in a very long time.  Something I think is long overdue and will help each and every one of us.

Google’s Goggles

This is an upcoming Google application that will allow you to set a timer on your G-mail for when you may be too incapacitated to decide on correct e-mail etiquette.  Whether it be the evenings, or the weekends.  Once you have set this timer you now must pass an E-mail Test to send your e-mail.

Yes friends, this helps you NOT send the drunken late night e-mails!  If you are sitting there at your computer at 2am e-mailing your ex about how you don’t care that they smell like Puppy Chow and Limes you just want to be NEAR them and if they could just call you later…

Not tonight my friend.  Not tonight.

Brilliant I say.  Brilliant!

Ever find this type of wackiness on the web?  Or do you have your own inventions or ideas?  Or, do you house one of these types of inventions?  Don’t be shy.  We all wave the crazy flag from time to time.  We won’t judge.

Bringing Home The Bliss

Every Friday night at 7pm, an amazing transformation takes place sending me into an altered state of living.  After 5 solid days creating domestic bliss through nutritious meals, organized linens, cataloging receipts and folding clothes…The Nanny clocks out for the weekend.  The symbolic apron strings are ripped off, the hair is let down. I am now retreating from the scent of dinner on the table and neat counter tops, straight into my own disorganized ways.

There is a huge disconnect that appears to be growing between how I treat, love and manage the homes of my employers; to how I treat my own single woman’s palace off hours.  Somehow between those two front doors, I have managed to exceedingly lose a sense of the practices that make their homes run so well.

They are eating off of a crock pot full of 3 bean chili with corn bread dumplings. I am eating a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and all I have in the refrigerator is some low carb wheat wraps and a few bottles of Blue Moon.  Huh?

I have recognized over these last few weeks that I need to harness some of the practices I employ in my own living space.  I should be eating those healthy meals!  My receipts should be ordered, tabbed and filed.  Why do I tolerate that over flowing junk drawer that contains silly putty, a rusty hammer and approximately 200 feet of telephone cord?!  I don’t even have a landline.  No, I needed some help.  I went to the only place that seemed fitting, The Container Store.

I must tell you, that the second I walked in, it was as if the glass doors blew out behind me into blinding glorious golden rays of light.  As far as my current mission goes, I was in a heaven of sorts.  I could have very well died right there, being lifted up on the voices of the Angel’s Choir I heard in my head.

Aisle by aisle, the cart filling at a steady pace, I saw my life coming together in product (or rather product placement) perfection.  Immediately, I felt the pep in my step and my wallet trying to drag my ass out the door in the opposite direction.  My wallet knows I am a sucker for packaging, and this entire place was dedicated to it.

Then it happened.  It was an innocent small box with a lid.  A clerk noticed my inspection and informed me it was for my tea bags.  Apparently, I can put my tea bags in a box roughly the size of the box they come in when I buy them at the store.  I’m now confused, but I have been reassured by the clerk I am simply misinformed.  This box is clear and I can see my tea bags clearly!  I don’t mention to him I can read, and my ordinary method of tea selection has done me no irreparable harm.  I just politely put it back on the shelf.

Further down into the middle of the store, I encounter bathroom items.  Excellent shelving, soap dispensers and a small wire mesh box with no description on the tag.  I assume it’s for soap, but I am quickly approached by Happy Helper #2.  Without a word she pulls a rubber duck off the adjacent display and pops it into the mesh box asking me, “Isn’t it great?”

Yes people, it is a cage for a rubber duckie!  He might make bath time lots of fun, but after that you best shell out $8.95 putting that bitch on lock down.  I came relatively close to a PETA like fist pumping outrage, but I held my tongue and whispered to the duck that I would be back for him.

Clearly this had gone too far.  I glance down at my former cart full of wonderful and realize none of this shit is necessary.  The problem isn’t the lack of empty containers, the problem is me.  I can buy more junk to store and manage my junk; or I can simply choose to better manage myself with the same amount of respect I do for the people who afford me the luxury of On Line shopping and On Demand ‘Weeds’ reruns.

I’m worth my salt, and I am going to take some time to pinch some and toss it over my shoulder for good luck that I figure out my own domestic bliss…in the 10 items or less aisle.

How organized are you ladies and gents?  Do you have aspirations of filing it all away neatly?  Any professional traits you’d like to incorporate in your personal lives in order for some order?  Do these home organization items make absolute sense?  Or is it more junk for our junk?  I am on a mission for palace appreciation so leave your comments and tips below! And if you missed it, check us out at www.thestream.tv for some great EVE-101 moments!

Make Me Laugh

“Mom, there is NOTHING fancy about this catsup!”

You should have heard the attitude of disgust and blatant shock which tumbled out of the mouth of my six-year-old daughter the other day. In between the daily grind, rush hour traffic, picking up the kids and attempting to get them to the ballpark on time, we occasionally slack off and end up with drive-thru goodies in the car. I have discovered healthy choices for all of us and we don’t do the burger and fries route very often. I allowed her to have the fries on this particular day.

My repayment, if you will, was a great giggle. (note to self: allow the fries more often)

Perhaps it was funny to me because (a) she is my daughter and her various tones make me laugh, (b) she is absolutely right or (c) it made me recall other oxymorons like “government intelligence”. The point is, my kids make me laugh. The timing is always impeccable and those crisp one-liners are perfect memory markers. For the rest of my days, I will see those little packets which say “fancy catsup” and hear her sweet voice at the tender age of six. I will recall the joy and laughter in our car and how it replaced the stressful hustle and bustle of our day.

In our home, there are several things which are guaranteed to bring laughter. Whoever said farts are always funny was pretty close to accurate. My son tells the same story about his dad whenever he wants to make me laugh. Suffice it to say, my kids are fantastic story tellers. They have delivery unparalleled by many, ranking up with the likes of Steven Wright. There are cartoons and movies which have hilarious lines or physical comedy in them. My Little Man has mastered the art of remote-controlled replay. He will literally watch the same scene ten times, given the opportunity.

My daughter is another story. She uses me for most of her humor. In the pool last year, she was grabbing at my bikini top. I stopped her and told her ,“Honey, those are NOT yours anymore!“. My kids know they were breastfed. My son ensured his sister got the full scoop on that one. In perfect comedic timing she spouts off, “Duh, mom…I sucked every last drop out of them!”. Seriously. Those words tumbled out of her mouth. Then, as if on camera, she gave me a sheepish-silly grin and said, “Milky-Milky”, as she pretended to reach for my breasts. To this day, she wil choose to use “Milky-Milky” if she is really wanting to make me laugh. She does not hesitate to pull that one out of her arsenal, regardless of who else may be present.

Oh, I know her game. She likes to disarm me with her humor and then go in for the kill in whatever she may be seeking. However, there are many times she will say or do things with the only intent being to make me smile or laugh.

We all know laughter is good for the soul. But, as I pondered the things I found funny this week, I decided to share the Top Ten things that made me laugh . A few made me laugh so hard I could have peed my pants. Actually, it’s not so much a top ten as the first ten things which come to mind.

10. The Family Guy - a comment about mistaking the intent of the mom’s mowing needs

9. Fancy Catsup

8. Phone calls with friends. *cough* no details

7. A friends quasi-dilemma over being sent extra sex toys with her rubber duckie vibrator.

6. My khaki shorts which now bear a shade of purple. Not a laundry accident!

5. Multiple orgasmic bliss after a series of multiples. It makes me giggle. You can’t pee your pants if you are not wearing any!

4. Eureka - great show and the company I was keeping at the time had me rolling

3. Post Secret (the chicken nugget is still making me laugh)

2. My new co-workers. Apparently, I can be a very funny girl.

1. My kiddos. Always, always, always the best source of humor. My two each day keep the doctor away!

What made YOU laugh this week? What do you find can ALWAYS make you laugh?

The Crazy Cupcake Lady

When you hear that song what immediately comes to mind? Fantastical gift opportunity? Nostalgia? Acid reflux? It seems that most everyone either loves or despises the day they were born and how it may or may not be acknowledged.

Becoming a mother transformed me into The Crazy Cupcake Lady, among other things. My kids could not tell you too many of the material gifts they have been given. What makes my chest swell with more pride than Pam Anderson’s Double D’s is the fact my kids will joyfully recount how we celebrate.

Special energy exists in our house during birthday weeks. Dinner table conversations entail less about school and more about their favorite things. We talk about their wishes, dreams, past birthdays and build excitement toward their special day. The birthday kid gets additional consideration in family votes for the week. You know, meatloaf or pasta? The tough decisions. We do this quite a bit, regardless. Still, having extra weight in their vote during their birthday week seems to make them very happy. Extra voting power and presents. What kid wouldn’t dig it?

My nostalgia at present can not be denied. My baby girl celebrated her Sixth Birthday this weekend. We have been knee deep in pregnancy pictures, stories of their births and blissfully drowning in laughter coupled with happy tears. Part of our tradition includes chopsticks, hibachi and tons of laughter at a celebration birthday dinner. No matter what, I finagle the funds to take them out for their birthdays. Dessert is always cupcakes.

Cupcakes have been part of our tradition since the year my son turned two. Cupcakes were the preferred choice of his daycare teachers. The year he turned four, I was in between jobs and bakery cupcakes were not an option. To my shock, he didn’t want me to buy them. My Little Man wanted me to make cupcakes for the kids. Not just the kids in his class, but for each of the 82 kids at his daycare. I could not disagree with his logic about sharing.

I promised him I would make cupcakes for all the kids. Tradition was born while they spent that night at their dad’s house. I spent less than twenty bucks to buy everything I needed to bake and decorate until three in the morning. I giggle to think of how I must have appeared to be The Crazy Cupcake Lady with seven-dozen cupcakes in tow. I did not care. I walked into my son’s class and he practically knocked me over hugging me. He looked up at me and said, “Thank you, Mom.” The funny thing is, he was not thanking me for the cupcakes. He just beamed with a light I can’t explain. He was thanking me for keeping my promise.

My kids may ask if a promise is a “cupcake promise“, but they rarely question my word. It is one of the many bonds in the story of us. It is sweeter than any icing on any cupcake. The only thing sweeter is to hear my son tell the story.

Birthdays are the perfect opportunity to cozy up at the corner of Memory Lane and Sentimental Street. My kiddos never tire of hearing the stories of their respective births. Every. Single. Detail. My seven-year- old son knows he was born at 6:33 at night. This year, my daughter remembered she was born at “two-thirty something” in the afternoon. She just bobbed her little head, gave me one of her talking glances and waited for the story to be told.

With as much pride as Michael Phelps receiving an Olympic Gold Medal, I tell her who I called at 2:39 on Friday afternoon. They know I can not contain myself. Every year, I call someone at the hour and minute of their birth. I celebrate that moment and share the joy it brings me. Somehow, the joy burns brighter than any number of candles ever could.

There is a feeling which still rushes over me on their birthdays. Believe it or not, it’s not a diabetic coma from all the sugary-sweet goodness. It is only natural for me to look down at their sweet faces and see them as newborns. I can see them as they were first placed across my chest. Happy tears well up in me and overflow. It is as if I look at them and can see them growing up in slow motion. I don’t know about the Super Mom cape, but I am granted some sort of surreal power to feel them as they first nestled at my breast to nurse. I can feel their tiny fingers wrap around my own. I am brought back to the first moments I ever shared with them. I get to relive that pure joy on a level which can never be expressed.

Motherhood humbles me beyond words. It all began with their birthdays.

Celebrating with my kids made me wonder about my Eve-101 family. How do YOU feel about birthdays, especially your own? Do you have any traditions? What makes the day extra special for you?

Dirty Thoughts

I am going to need someone to find the rule book for me. I know it exists out there somewhere. It is probably a large book. Pages ripped out, stapled in, some white out, eraser marks, some things are in black permanent marker…

Once I get my hands on it I am going to spend an evening thumbing through the pages. It should be fun, curled up with a blanket and a nice warm cup of vodka. Refresh myself so to speak on the rules for men and women, couples in general.

There must still be rules. Rules that guide us on what we are and aren’t supposed to do, how things should be. Because if there aren’t any rules left then why do men and women have so many problems?? Together, apart, looking, disposing of, etc. You name it and we all have questions.

Since it would take around 14 years to go through them all, I just have one question from the book today.

When you are living with a companion, married, or whatever your arrangement may be,

Who cleans?

Stop rolling your eyes. Domestic issues are still issues. Once we get past, “What is he thinking about me??, Should I call her in 2 days or 4??, Is he just seeing me, or is he talking to that skank ex girlfriend of his? Does she think that I am ok in bed??”

When all of that dies down and you cohabitate, BLAMMO. More shit to deal with.

These are the kinds of questions that keep me up at night. An ignorant man one told me, “If I had wanted to do Bitches work, I would have never gotten married” - Ex Husband This type of opinion is the exception to the rule, and of course if it is out there you know I would find it. But I am truly curious as to how this is divvied up for most “normal” couples.

In the 50’s it was pretty laid out. It was known that, for the most part, women stayed home took care of the house and the kids, the man worked. Easy peasy. But it was oppressive and one sided, hence why it has been obliterated.

But as women have evolved into the work force, muscling our way through to the top of anything and everything, the rules on household chores seems to have stayed the same. That’s like trying to text with a rotary phone. Not possible and makes no sense. I do think that men tend to do more in the last ten to twenty years, but not an equal amount. At least not most that I know.

So I appeal to you Eveette’s. Men and women alike. What is your arrangement? Is their an agreement, a list, a treaty? How does one deal with this? Is it fair to assume because women are sans penis that they should do the majority of the work? Because I am finding this is the case not just with one but with many… Should I WANT to do most of the work?? Was I born without a certain girly Swiffer strand on my DNA?

It has even been documented that this can be an issue for men as well. They do all the work at home while the women just don’t chip in. This is a new, oddly interesting, trend. But still quite unfair. If it isn’t equal then why is one working harder than the other?

My opinion is that house work should be shared. If both people work, then both should share the duties equally or some sort of equal arrangement. As logical as this conclusion may be I am yet to actually experience it.

What is YOUR arrangement? Is it working for you? Better question, is it working for you BOTH?