CONGRATULATIONS!...Now stuff a sock in it!

I was at the grocery store today buying a few things that I would need for work for the next few days. I had my goods in my dorky little plastic basket that makes me feel like Little Red Riding Hood every time I pick one up. I finished my shopping and entered the check-out line. I placed my items on the conveyor belt and sat waiting behind a younger gal who had a few items--one of which was a pregnancy test. You could tell that the girl just wanted to make time through the grocery line and unfortunately the lady in front of her was slower than snail snot. This lady, while waiting for all of her items to be scanned, looked at the goods this young gal was purchasing and said, "Oh! So you must be really excited! I see you're buying a pregnancy test!" The gal looked mortified. It might as well have been over the loud speaker, "Herb, clean up in Aisle 9...OH! and the girl with the long brown hair and the blue jacket in the express lane is buying a pregnancy test! Make sure you tell her congratulations and high five her on the way out the door!" Ugh. I felt bad for her. Then, it was her turn to check out. I'll be darned if the check-out lady didn't do the exact same thing to her but only worse--she interrogated her by asking her if this was planned, if she had any other kids, etc. The girl turned about three shades of red and couldn't muster up many words--you could tell she was already uncomfortable enough. I was standing behind her in line and I felt like I needed to stage an intervention and give these people a lesson in manners and political correctness. Just a little heads-up and FYI for all you people out there: it doesn't matter if this potential bun in the oven was the most wanted little goober on the planet...NEVER EVER QUESTION AN INNOCENT WOMAN WHO IS TRYING TO BUY A BABY BATTER PEE STICK TESTER. It's just rude and it's none of your beeswax. Mkay? Mkay. :)

Um...there seems to be a Wookie on my teeth...

I have a few lifelines at work. One of them occurs during the 5 second break I have after all of my morning shift assessments and medication administrations--the moment that I head to the nourishment room, grab little containers of peanut butter and a handful of graham crackers, and sit down at the computer to chart my assessments while chomping away (hey...by this time it's 11:00 a.m. and I've been up since 4:30...I'm hungerized!). Another lifeline is my big honkin' mug I bring to drink ice water out of all day. I love my mug. I got it when I was going through my senior integrated practicum in labor and delivery over at Littleton Hospital. It says on the mug, "Littleton Loves Little Ones". I set this at my desk daily and find it hysterical that it's from a rival hospital corporation--but then again, I'm fairly easily entertained. Third...and super important--my addiction to my lifeline JOLLY RANCHERS. I go through a ton of them at work. I LOVE THEM. However, have you ever noticed when you eat sugary snacks that all of the fuzzy leftover weirdness just hangs out on your teeth? Or maybe it's just me--however, I feel like I'm walking around with a Wookie on my teeth all day. I NEED TO SHAVE MY TEETH! I don't think they make tooth razors though so OH WELL! I am nurse Whitney and me and my Wookie mouth will be here to take care of you all day. Good news is...I smell fruity! Well, fuzzy and fruity...

PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND SPREAD 'EM, YOUNG LADY!

Why is it that every time I see a cop go by my heart sinks to the ground? As I sat out in the parking lot eating my lunch today (yeah, you heard me right...I'm the kind of girl who hides in far-off parking spaces way out in East Jeebus in the parking lot so I can suck down my food...true story) an entire squadron of po-po walked right past my car. All of them were fully decked out in uniforms that said "POLICE" on the back, bulletproof vests, and they were packin'. I froze with my food-in-hand and waited while all of them walked past both side of my car. I was still like a statue--didn't make a move. If mannequins were allowed to have driver's licenses I would've been mistaken for one, for sure. After the policemen made their way across the rest of the parking lot to Subway I finally took a deep breath and felt like I could relax and get down to business with my food again. I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG! Why do I feel this way? It's like I feel they are going to bust me for anything...ANYTHING! "Yes officer! I DID take more than my fair share of Wint-O-green Life Savers out of the bowl in the lobby the last time I had a Brazilian bikini wax!" "Yes officer...I DID call that guy a monkey effer when he cut me off on the road!" "Yes officer!...I DID flash my headlights at oncoming cars when I saw you were trying to clock people's speed to warn them that you were just over the hill waiting to bust them for speeding!" These crimes I have committed are obviously eating away at me--so much so that my heart takes the Nestea plunge every time I see the po-po go by.

Parenting 101

On our recent trip to Disneyland, Tristan and I were walking through Disney's California Adventure. I was wearing my flip flops (really cute Teva flip flops--not $0.99 cheap flip flops that you buy at Walgreens so you don't pick up foot cooties in the shower flip flops), and my 7.5 year old twins had stepped on my feet numerous times. By the 800th time of telling them to "please watch where you are walking" I had kind of lost my patience. Not only that, but it hurt! After griping and grumbling about it for a moment we all started walking over towards a ride. Tristan was holding my hand, I just shook my head and said, "Ah the fun of parenting. In all honesty 75% of parenting is not that much fun. It's the other 25% that you live for." to which he replied, "So it's kind of like summers in Fairbanks, Alaska?"

Now those of you who have not had the opportunity to spend time in Fairbanks for all two of the seasons that they have annually probably don't know what I'm talking about. Fairbanks can get down to -80F or more in the winter months (which is basically October through May). The extreme cold is not typical for more than a week or two during the year but it can consistently stay at -40F for most of the winter--enough to freeze your eyeballs anyway. Summers can go to the other extreme and get up to 100F and are usually beautiful and sunny--all day and all night long. It is the land of the midnight sun, for sure. People who live in Fairbanks live for the summers, and with temps plummeting the way they have been known to it's no wonder why. They typically have 90 days of summer and the rest of the year is...well...winter. Tristan and I attended the University of Alaska Fairbanks together so we know firsthand how much fun those bitterly cold winter months can be. When Tristan likened parenting to living for summers in Fairbanks he was dead-on.

As a parent of young children you repeat yourself, are constantly throwing out discipline and advice, and you're lucky if anyone is ever listening to you because you sound like a broken record and kids just tune you out. However, it's that moment where they listen to you, or do something fabulous to surprise you that makes all those toe-crushing moments worth while. Kinda like enduring all those harsh winter months for a fabulous summer in Fairbanks, Alaska.

With a little style and grace...

I read an article interviewing Miley Cyrus some time back in which the reporter asked her, "If you could be like anyone in Hollywood, who would it be?" Her answer, "Jennifer Aniston." She aspired to be like "Jen" because of the fact that Jennifer had kind of been through the wringer with a few of life's most monumental events--like marriage and divorce. However, unlike a lot of bitter, jaded divorcees, Jennifer has managed to maintain, at the very least, a public image of being level-headed, calm, collected, and graceful. She has never publicly gone on a rant about Angelina Jolie, and never publicly bashed Brad Pitt. She spoke very little about what happened to her marriage and we all know surprisingly little considering she is very much in the public eye. Miley Cyrus had said that if she ever went through a divorce in the spotlight that she'd want to handle it exactly like Aniston did--with style and grace. I have to agree with the 16 year old teen mogul on this one. Even though there is no spotlight involved in my situation, as someone who has been through a divorce I think that most of my friends, even close friends, would tell you that they don't know much about what happened in my failed relationship. It's not something that I talk about in public, and it's certainly nothing I pop off about on internet social websites. There have only been a handful of times I have gone off on a tangent about my ex-husband but always realizing that ranting about it was ridiculous--that that was the whole purpose of getting divorced...to make further ranting unnecessary. I have no idea who I will end up with in this life--if anyone at all, but like Miley Cyrus, I want to be like Jen, too. She is an example of how to be beautiful, talented, gracious, kind, and reasonable about the things life throws at you--even when they are life-altering and disappointing. It's certainly all the qualities and character of the woman I aspire to be. :) (and P.S. for those of you who read my blog yesterday about covering up your goodies and ditching plunging necklines who are going to rip on me for selecting this picture of Jennifer Aniston with a plunging neckline please remember that SHE IS JENNIFER ANISTON SO SHE CAN GET AWAY WITH IT...the rest of us aren't. ;)

With all due respect, ladies...

After spending nearly a week in California, supposedly one of the fashion meccas of the world, I must say I was disappointed at how people of all ages think they need to fit in with the hip trends that are targeted at young, SINGLE, twenty somethings fashion and clothing-wise. I walked down Main Street of Disneyland behind a mid 30-something gal pushing a baby stroller who was wearing Daisy Duke shorts with Ugg boots--perhaps she saw Miley Cyrus wearing them in Seventeen magazine but Miley is 16 and not pushing a baby stroller around occupied by small children who will one day be looking for guidance from said mother. I've also noticed how a lot of people in their late 20's and early 30's--heck, even 40's are still wearing plunging necklines that show everything but the "turkey buttons". Time to cover up the wrinkly cleavage and the slightly saggy ladies, girlfriends. There comes a point where showing this much skin is just, well...tacky. It is only my opinion (and I can say whatever I want cuz it's MY blog so if you disagree, fine, but it's still all mine so neener neener neener) that we LADIES should hold ourselves to a higher standard. Time to put away the plunging necklines, Daisy Dukes, and mini skirts. Time to embrace being classy and realizing that truly being SEXY means wearing clothing that actually leaves something to the imagination. I know some women think that wearing revealing clothing brings more male attention, but here's a newsflash from Whitney M. Madison: The kind of man who is attracted to me for THAT is not someone I would ever give the time of day to or ever want oogling my goodies. Stay away pervs, this fashionista momma is a class act. :)

Why THANK YOU TSA for being so observant and for keeping America safe! BTW...I just puked a little in my mouth.

So during our most recent trip to Disneyland I walked down to the security line at Denver International Airport with my herd of 4 amazing children and stood their waiting in line with the rest of the anxious travelers. The twins, Chloe and Emma, are 7.5 years old. Paige is 18 years old but she is only 4'11" tall and not that much taller than the twins. And then there's Beau. Beau is 6'4" and he was wearing his Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap that day and some pimp shades that he decided not to remove as we got past the first man at security who checks your tickets. The TSA guy looked at my ID first. He said, "Okay, mom! You're good to go." Then he checked Chloe and Emma's tickets, followed by Paige's ticket and ID, and then he got to Beau. He then said, "And you must be dad!" which made me shiver a little in every fiber of my being. I said, "Uh, no...that's my son. He's a minor. He doesn't have ID." The TSA guy was pretty embarrassed and I was pretty sick to my stomach. I realize that I am a young mom of teens but holy stromboli, Batman...NOT THAT YOUNG! And my son looks older than he is but NOT THAT OLD! It is bad when your son gets mistaken for your spouse though...I must say!

Drop that burrito and smile for the camera, Ed!

I couldn't let John Lynch be the only (former) Denver Bronco on my blog so I decided to have Ed McCaffrey join him so he doesn't feel like the only (former) NFL football star to be exploited on this site of mindless banter. This past summer I was with my daughter and her friend getting ready to attend the Metro Station concert at Eliches. We decided to take a break from the heat and amusement park fun and head over to Illegal Pete's for a burrito that is literally the size of my head (but holy freakin' yum-o, Batman). Granted, I have kind of a pinhead but still--that's a big burrito. While chomping away at this mound of deliciousness who should walk in but Ed. Apparently Ed McCaffery likes giant head-sized burritos, too. Paige grabbed her camera and said, "I'm going to go ask him for a picture!" I got all embarrassed and said, "Aw, come on, Paiger, LET THE MAN EAT HIS BURRITO IN PEACE!" She lovingly looked at me, smiled, grabbed her camera and got up from the table. On her way over to stalk Mr. McCaffery she looked at me, giggled, and stated, "Mom, I don't have issues like you with being a creeper." Which is why she has the cool picture and I don't. ;)

Thin Mints...YES! Samoas...NO! *DeNiEd*

On behalf of every person in America who owes the Girl Scouts a tremendous THANK YOU for the annual five pound weight gain that follows your cookie delivery I would just like to say, "THANK YOU". Now that that is out of the way I'd also like to express my frustration at the fact that I put all of my Girl Scout cookies in the freezer...yes...ALL OF THEM...not just the Thin Mints. Frozen Thin Mints are amazing. I've blown through two boxes myself this year--ALL BY MYSELF. All bets are off when Girl Scout cookie season arrives. I go from manic workout obsessed athlete to slimy mozerella cheese slurping Jaba the Hutt in no time flat. Que Problemo, Whitney Madison? or for those of you who don't speak spanish, including me and Ocho Cinco, SO WHAT'S THE PROBLEM, WHITNEY? The problem is that freezing my Samoas is the problem. I want them right now. They are frozen solid. They are not Thin Mints. If I attempt to eat one I'm going to look like someone threw a 90 mile per hour fastball at my mug--broken teeth...no bueno (how do you like THAT espanol, my friends?). It's like freezing your credit cards in a block of ice so you don't use them. It's great--until you want to use them and then you look psychotic trying to bust them out of the block of ice. I want a Samoa. Not a frozen Samoa. I want a nice soft chewy one. One that doesn't exist in this house right now. It's making me very sad. Sad day. No Samoa for me. DENIED.

SON-OF-A-Bic!!!! *Mystery Solved*

I often times find that my pen-carrying technique of choice at the hospital makes for a lot of conversation with my patients and their families. Why this is, I do not know. People seem fascinated by it, when in all actuality--it's just a pen stuck in my hair. My method of carrying my pen in my hair has been something I've always done--from the time I was a Certified Nursing Assistant in the 1990's, through the pursuit of my geology degree at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and it has continued on into my career as a registered nurse. Some of my favorite questions are, "SO I BET YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR PEN, EH?" or "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU STABBED YOURSELF IN THE HEAD CARRYING YOUR PEN THAT WAY?" or "HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF STICKING MORE THAN ONE IN THERE SO IT LOOKS LIKE AND INDIAN HEADDRESS?" or "WHAT DO YOU THINK THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD LOOKS LIKE IF YOU SHAVED OFF ALL YOUR HAIR?...DO YOU THINK IT'S ONE BIG BLACK INK SPOT?" (like I would ever even consider shaving my head to see if they are correct?). The last of these quotes is why I write this evening--indeed, the mystery has likely been solved as to why I am the way I am (i.e. goofy and crazy)...I have obviously absorbed way too much Bic pen ink through my skin and it's in very close proximity to my brain. This coupled with the fact that I am an obsessive pen-writer-on-my-hand kind of gal, too. I am always taking notes on myself at work. Blood sugar numbers, vital signs, doctor's orders--you name it...it goes on my hand. I'm not a huge Sarah Palin fan but if she were here I would fist pump her on her choice to use the same method of writing down important information. God wouldn't have given us such a nice flat hand if He didn't want us to write on it. Long story short, I've estimated that my body absorbs at least the equivalent of 3 full Bic pen cartridges every year. Anybody with that much ink running through them is bound to be a little crazy, right? :)

John Lynch FORMERLY of the Denver Broncos likes the fact that bags fly free, too!!!!

Ah yes! As we climbed aboard Southwest Airlines my children and I passed by this rockstar of an NFL football player sitting amongst us commoners!...on Southwest...the el cheap-o of el-cheap-o airlines! Apparently even super rich people like the fact that bags fly free! With four kids in tow I decided that the back of the airplane was the best place for me and my posy of offspring and as soon as we grabbed our seats and sat down with our seatbelts fastened we all grabbed our cell phones to tweet and upload Facebook status' of how we were on the plane with John Lynch of the Denver Broncos (AHEM...formerly of the Denver Broncos ;). Then what happened, since we are all linked to one another's tweets and Facebook status updates, all our phones went off to update us on one anothers status and tell us that we were on the plane with John Lynch....cuz we're dorks like that. Then we high fived each other for being so cool. Cuz we're cool like that. NOT! But true story. Then we laughed hysterically, high fived each other again, and told each other what dorks we are. Thank goodness Mr. Lynch was up about 15 rows and didn't have to listen to any of this star-struck ridiculousness. After we landed in Orange County, CA, my son, Beau, chased him down in the terminal for this picture. He was super cool about the whole thing and my son was on cloud nine. The funny part about it?...my son was wearing his Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap. We are HUGE Philadelphia Eagles fans. GO EAGLES! We still love you, John Lynch. You are a manimal. ;)

12 INCHES OF DELICIOUSNESS!

K, so after completely dogging heat-n-eat meals with meat on my blog yesterday and stating that the shrimp in Cup-o-Noodles is actually SeaMonkeys I ATE A COSTCO FOOTLONG HOT DOG TODAY FOR LUNCH!!! I am a hypocrite! Twelve inches of lips and butt cheeks squeezed into a sausage casing, covered with onions out a container you have to crank like a machine gun, and spicy mustard. Honestly, as disgusting as it is, it's the only thing that gets me through the trauma of actually having to shop at Costco and fighting my way through double-wide shopping carts and totally clueless people making b-lines for free food stands. UGH!!!!

By the way, I'm going to Philadelphia...

I caught a news blip the other day on television (on CNN me thinks) talking about how they are going to increase airport security by having people walk through scanners that will literally show people with no clothing on (cue flashbacks of the ancient movie "Airplane"). This all happened after the most recent terror scare where a crazy woman decided that she was going to try to put a new spin on the whole 'terrorist' thing by being the first white, female, redneck dork to cause more problems for America at the airport. Whether this whole new scanning process is total rumor/hypothetical or not, I don't know. I also heard that we should not be concerned because certain parts of our bodies would be "blurred out" so that the TSA workers could not see them--to which I thought, "Yeah right...so basically you're going to blur out my left eye and right nostril meanwhile you'll be oogling the rest of my goodies. Awesome. I feel much better." Then I started to think, "You know, these guys/gals already sit there with rubber gloves on--why not just include a free pelvic exam or ultrasound for every woman. You already make us take our shoes off and strip down to basically nothing--just make us put a paper gown on and have an examining table with stirrups at the end of the security line. That way nobody can get away with anything. I mean, really...us women are super unpredictable. You never know when we're going to try to make it through security with a bottle of Evian where the sun don't shine, or even perhaps a shampoo bottle that is 5 ounces instead of the alloted 3.4 ounces. Or worse yet...an embryo or fetus." You're already going to see me naked, TSA--why not give me a free examination, too? However, I might make you buy me dinner afterwards.

What's in that shrimp Top Ramen anyhow?

This was the question posed at work the other day during our lunch break. It came up because one of the nurses was eating a heat-n-eat meal that had chicken in it. I told her that I would never eat a heat-n-eat with meat (that wasn't totally supposed to rhyme...completely coincidental) because the meat is meat/eyeball/lung/gizzard "parts"...it's not real meat...it's the meat you don't want to eat (k, that rhymed, too, but crap...not my fault, people!). I likened eating a heat-n-eat with meat to eating Top Ramen with shrimp in it...which then led to the question, "Where do the shrimp in Top Ramen come from?". They are not real shrimp. They can't be. You can't cut the head and legs off of something that small. They have to be fake shrimp. You'd have to fish them out of the sea with control top pantyhose as a net. They are like Jelly Belly Jellybean shrimp--they're that tiny. My coworker then solved the mystery. She told us that they are really SeaMonkeys. Brine shrimp. Dehydrated brine shrimp. Eat up, America. That's high quality SeaMonkey right there. $0.99 well spent. 33% of your recommended daily fat intake in one beautiful non-biodegradable styrofoam cup. *SLURP!!!* YUM-Diggity*

So, listen up!...or don't. *WhAtEva*

I have unleashed the beast. Started a blog. Gone where only a few million others have gone before. Wandered into totally charted territory. Leading the way for other slow pokes who should've broken down and started a blog years ago when all the "cool" people did. Yes, the BETTER LATE THAN NEVER girl has arrived. Blogging will never be the same. High heels will be worn. Vacuum cleaners will be danced with. This blogger will have endless hours of fun exploiting herself and making ridiculous people look normal. You've been warned. :)