Monday, July 21, 2008

The Melanie Curse by Proxy Edition 1

I apologize for the amount of curse stories, I'm on a roll, and its hard to stop. By the way, most of my family and friends know this story, but is legendary, so it still must be shared with the two or three people still living on this Earth who have not heard it.

Get too near me and the curse will land on you like nose snot germs. You've been warned, ok?

I feel like kid movies should have a disclaimer that runs before the film.


OK, that last sentence probably wouldn't be on there. Its just something I periodically yell at grumbling adults.
A few years ago, a movie came out that was entirely animated in three colors. White, Black and Blue. It featured penguins that screeched like Mary Murphy, and one penguin that put Gene Kelly to shame. It was Happy Feet. Despite its dubious plot, Joe and I decided that this would be the trial run for bringing our then 2 1/2 year old and 1 1/2 year old boys to the movies. We pulled out all the stops. Gigantic sodas, huge bags of butter drenched popcorn, lots of chocolate. We wanted to be prepared!
We were not prepared for the two childless curmudgeons seated in front of us.
The movie started off well. Our children seemed to be enjoying the movie and all the edible amenities of the cinematic experience. Then the 6th minute of the movie began, and interest was abandoned for the underrated pleasures of passing up fresh candy for old candy off the floor. Other sources of amusement came from the endless fun of bouncing movie seats up and down, racing back and forth up the aisles, and singing along with the penguins.
Since every other couple in the theater also had children (except of course for the one in front of us) we held out longer than we might have normally. About 25 minutes into the movie, we knew it was time to go.
I want to note that the decibel level of our children had not gone unnoticed by everyone. The couple in front of us had been so irritated by our children's behavior they had taken it upon themselves to loudly call our children names that drunk Alaskan fisherman don't sling in a barfight! Now that that is noted....
Distracted, we had eaten almost nothing of our snack bar schmorgasbord. As we stood up to go, it remained in the tray that was precariously balanced on a seat. Joe left first, then Kurt, then Cleve, and I would have been last. Well, that was the plan. Joe, Kurt, and Cleve made it out ok. As I stumbled last past the movie seats, I tripped over something on the floor. The point of impact was, of course, that expensive tray of uneaten food. Horrified, I watched my full 64 oz. drink jump ecstatically into the air, arc almost slowly, and with a crescendo of rattling ice, drench that horrible couple in front of us. But that was only course one! Immediately after being doused with the soda, the extra large popcorn descended upon them. And, in the exact order a real meal would go, their last course-dessert-(half eaten sticky chocolate) hailed down upon their heads.
I will never forget them gaping wetly, popcornly, and stickily up at me, their mouths hanging open in wide Os. Did I feel bad? YES. Did I apologize? I tried! You see, I have a personally frustrating reaction to uncomfortable, or awkward situations. I crack jokes or laugh. I can't not do this. Don't ask me why. Well, this was no exception. As Joe gestured at me frantically to follow him to the exit, I froze, and then, characteristically, started giggling uncontrollably. I tried to gasp out an apology, I tried! But all I could do was laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Never a word did this couple make. They had no problem rattling away before, but now, they just stared up at me in wide eyed, silent shock as I stood there shaking with laughter. In what seemed like a week later I was able to unglue my feet and get to the car, sigh, guffawing all the way.
It was horrendously awful and it was embarassing.
But. That couple had been really nasty!
Imagine seeing someone who had been tailgating you on the freeway get pulled over.
Yeah, it was like that.

The Melanie Curse Zap #2

This outlet ain't polarized.

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt."
Mark Twain

Basically, the quote that changed my life, despite having discovered it 6 years too late (i.e. after High School) Those shy people were pretty savvy, after all.
I must have a highly developed taste for toes because this story demonstrates my inability to keep my scaly foot out of my mouth.

Disneyland. (Again.)
Joe and I were having a fantastic time at California Adventure. We had just exited The Hollywood Tower of Terror. Oh, I mean Joe had just left it. I had successfully managed to maneuver my way out of going on The Tower of No Way in My Lifetime yet again!
There we were, bouncing along like kids, enjoying all the happy families. I saw a smiling woman carrying a gigantic stuffed Clarabelle the Cow-adorable! Very, very exuberantly I pointed and exclaimed,
"Joe!!!! Look at at that cow!!!!!"
Like ice water poured on someone enjoying a hot shower, (true, yes. explanation, no) Joe's dismayed and shocked, "Melanie!!!" cut through my excitement.
Confused, I questioned what was with his sudden loss of giddy Mickey lovin' spirit?
His response was to discreetly gesture at a bench we has just passed.

Sitting there, and I say this with the utmost sensitivity, was one of the largest Mouseketeers ever to enjoy the park. I of course had uttered this gem right as we were walking up to his bench. And he had most definitely heard me.
Mortified, I clarified to Joe that he had not actually married a cruel monstrous woman, merely someone who thought Clarabelle the Cow to be cute and worth pointing out. I then offered to go back and clarify the same thing to the offended Mouseketeer. After being assured that that would only make things horrifically worse, we went on to whatever else we did that day. I cannot remember a single thing after that incident because I was busy cursing my curse!!!!

Friday, July 18, 2008


This is a real curse, I swear.
Are you like me in that you are always really interested in other people that share your name? I mean, maybe this isn't so true for people who are named Emily, or Jennifer (as you'd be interested in every fourth or fifth person) but maybe if your name is Bambi, or Josephine, or Thelma. Melanie is common enough where people don't think its a really offbeat name, but just uncommon enough that you don't meet Melanies every day. I probably meet another Melanie every other month or so. I always feel personally affronted when the other Melanie does not look like me or has a better body than I do. Hey! My name is Melanie too! How dare you be a size 2 and I am a size ___! Almost universally though, the Melanie has been a brunette, so I am appeased. That being said, I could barely sit through Sweet Home Alabama. My name is Melanie, so I should be blonde, and southern, and have a tiny body and be a fashion designer and have married parents and have to choose between Patrick Dempsey and Josh Lucas! But blonde or brunette, fat or skinny, rich or poor, you cannot escape.........the Melanie Curse.
That's where you humiliate yourself on a weekly basis. Its not your fault, you can't be blamed, just laughed at. I am totally OK with being laughed at, but I DRAW THE LINE at having people say that someone "pulled a Melanie." Someone said that to me once and they "pulled a Melanie's fist." Just Kidding. But seriously, no pulling a Melanie, ok?
Anyway, like the poop files, these stories are designed to give you a laugh and make you feel better about your own lives. I have many, many stories about how I have fallen prey to The Melanie Curse and been humiliated. I have no idea what order to put them into, so I guess they will just be random. Some will be long, some short. All will make you grateful your name is Gertrude, or Ethel. That being said, if anyone reads this named Melanie, tell me, and you can join the Melanie Club!

The Melanie Curse Zap #1.
I was in High School. I was dating a particular boy. Halfway through my senior year, a new boy came to the High School. His name was Rocky. (I'm not kidding) I immediately noticed that while from the front this boy did not look anything like my current boyfriend, from the back, they looked exactly the same. I am talking clone head, shoulders, back. This observation would, of course, come back to haunt me. One fine academic day I was on a teacher's errand from my class to my boyfriend's class. Upon entering the darkened classroom (they were watching a movie) I spotted my boyfriend across the room. His back was turned, (nefariously not watching said film) and I whispered to the teacher a request to go say hi to my main squeeze. He rolled his eyes absentmindedly (or perhaps diabolically) and waved me over. I crossed the room, leaned down and gave my boy a tight hug, and a magnificent wet smackeroo on the cheek. He turned, and amidst the hysterical laughter of his seatmates, I noticed, this was not my boy toy. Things were to say the least, a little Rocky.
I froze.
I had never spoken to this boy before! He had no idea who I was, and yet I had hugged him, and bussed him!
It was SO humiliating.
But, as I am sure you will all agree, very very funny.
I am still blushing as I write this, 8 years later.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Boys will be Boys (who wont stop growing up, much to the distaste of their mother)

While I love talking about the humor in life,
I love talking about my boys even more. I tend to mix up their names, but I keep baby journals so as to keep them straight.

For instance,
You are probably Kurt if......
Two days ago, you picked up a dead ant, looked at it, and said philosophically,
"Sometimes, you just got to eat some bugs."
or, if you like to speculate about what Spiderman does when he goes home and stops being Spiderman.
or, if you love the water so much, even after falling into a pool, you come up after being rescued and say, "WHOAH, THAT WAS AWESOME!"
or, if you are so refreshingly honest you tell Aunt Jessica her feet are really big like a dog's, or point at the tall man in the WinCo, and say, "Mom, look at that Fatboy right there!"

You are probably Cleve if......
You dream about monsters every night, and every morning tell us in great detail all the ways you beat them up.
or, if you can roll your tongue!
or, if you tell Daddy every day when he comes home, "I MISSED-DED you!!"
or, if you tell everyone around you (strangers and family alike) each and every time you fart.

You are probably Kyle if.....
You are crawling now!
or, if you like to open all the cabinets and pull everything out of them!
Or if you can clearly say, "Hi, Dad!" But cant even choke out one "Mom."
or, if you put everything, EVERYHING (and I do mean everything) you come across into your mouth!

Any excuse to post adorable photos is an awesome one.

Flem is back in town!!!

I have neglected my blog because my good old friend Flem Packin' is back in town. He comes once a year, won't go away, and like all dreaded guests, clogs up the pipes. So, while Flem has graced us with his presence, I have not had the energy to type. BUT, I am back! Flem hasn't left yet, but hes agreed to keep it down for the remainder of his stay, and life is better. I was able to find something to laugh about though. I went to the doctor, mindful of the fact that what goes around, comes around. After four and a half years of shoving revolting, vile substances down my children's throats during their illnesses, it was my turn. In the classic cliche, I can dish it out, but I don't want to take it. When the doctor prescribed me said vile substance, the packaging let me know how much vicarious revenge was being exacted onto me by my gleeful children. I was already nervous about what it would taste like, and when the pharmacist smugly handed me the bottle, two words leaped out, and karate chopped me. I'll let you guess.
Can you guess?
And it was, most definitely, sugar free.