Because sometimes, blogging hurts.

I woke up in excruciating pain in my neck and upper back. I can’t move my neck and it’s hard to lift up my right shoulder.
I have no idea what is wrong. It could be a pinched nerve, it could be a stiff neck, could be tension and stress. It could be an infection in my spinal cord (because yes, I’ve had one of those before. What the hell? Why do I get all of the crazy illnesses?) It could be The Devil trying to KEEP ME FROM DANCING AEROBICALLY, because tonight, I was going to go back to Dance Aerobics (and record video! Just for you!)
Whatever the hell it is, IT HURTS and sitting here at the computer is too painful.
“OMG! It hurts to blog! Call 911!”
I wanted to tell you about The First Date That My Husband Has Ever Planned For Us in the History of Our Marriage, but, I can’t! It hurts!
So, because I’m afraid that I may damage my neck even further by sitting here and typing on my blog, I’m going to leave you with a couple of my (new-ish) favorite blogs that I think you should be reading because they bring The Funny, people.
Metalia.
Oh, The Joys.
p.s. ouch

The New Adventures of Old Christine: Part One

I didn’t sleep much on Sunday night.
I couldn’t stop obsessing over which question I would ask. I wanted it to be The Perfect Question. Funny, intelligent, thought provoking. I was going to take this opportunity very seriously.
By the time midnight rolled around, I had decided “the hell with intelligent and thought provoking, I’m just going to ask them if they’ve ever taken Aerobic Dance class and if anyone wanted to take me on in a dance off!”
I arrived a few minutes early and met Self-made Mom and Manic Mommies. They were very nice and also completely unaware of who I was. Joy Unexpected WHAT? Y from the Internet WHO?
And you people think I’m popular.
Beth, the women who put this event together, came out to greet us and take us to the set of The New Adventures of Old Christine. The first thing that I noticed once we were on the set was this little table with place cards that said things like “JULIA LOUIS-DREYFUS” and “WANDA SYKES.”
Across from that table, I noticed a few chairs, with bottles of water placed on top of them.
I realized that this was where we were going to conduct our little “interview.” I had NO idea it was going to be so intimate and that we were going to be so close to the actors. In my mind, I had pictured us sitting in the place where the audience usually sits and the actors sitting on the set. I imagined they’d hand us a microphone and the actors would have to squint their eyes to see where we were.
Man, was I wrong.

I know that you’re probably thinking “Big deal! They’re just people!”
I know this and yet Julie Louis-Dreyfus! And Wanda Sykes! Sitting right across a table from me! It was very intimidating.
We had to do a few things which I will keep a secret for now (but you will SEE later) before the cast arrived to do the interview.
I was very nervous and was completely aware of the fact that I was the fattest person in the building. (And there were two very pregnant women there, folks.) But, everyone on the set was so warm and friendly, that I was totally OK with being The Big Chub.
Until I realized there was a dude following us around with a video camera. Then I became very self conscience and tried very hard to not be caught standing alone. When you see the video. (Yes, there will be a video) I’m pretty sure that every time you see me, I will be running to hide behind someone. I actually thought about running out of the building, until I saw Liz walk in. If she wasn’t pregnant, I would have knocked her to the ground and licked her all over.
Instead, I ran up and hugged her and immediately started annoying her by repeatedly saying things like “Oh my God, I’m so nervous.” “Oh my God, look how close we’re sitting to the cast.” “Oh my God, I don’t know what to ask them.”
She was very gracious and kind to me. She held my hand (or more like I grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go)and she really did help to put me (somewhat) at ease.
The moment we had been waiting for finally arrived and we were asked to “take a seat.” The cast walked in and when I saw Julia, I let out a very loud GASP because whoa, she was beautiful. I’ve always thought she was cute, but in person? She’s gorgeous. Her skin was perfect, her hair was amazing, her teeth were pearly gems from heaven, her body was tiny and tight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
Actually, every single person up there was beautiful. And so were their teeth. My GOD, THE TEETH.
After they took their seats, I felt a wave of nervousness take over my entire body. I started to shake and I could feel the gas welling up deep within me. I immediately wrote a note to myself.
Note to self: Don’t fart.
I honestly felt like I couldn’t breathe because “Oh my GOD, in a few minutes they are going to hand me a mic and I have NO IDEA WHAT IN THE HELL I’M GOING TO ASK THESE PEOPLE.”
Liz went just before me and as she asked her question, I was about to shit my pants because I knew that I was next and I still didn’t have a freaking question to ask. And just as I was about to start crying, THE GREATEST THING IN THE HISTORY OF EVER HAPPENED. The following words came out of the mouth of Wanda Sykes. “I’ll do anything for a laugh, I’ll fart on stage…”
Fart!
Wanda said FART!
Suddenly, everything was right with the world.
As soon as Liz handed me the microphone, I was all “omigod I’m so nervous and its funny you brought up FARTING, Wanda, because I wrote a little note here to myself that says DON’T FART because ha! Ha! Ha! I get really gassy when I’m nervous! Ha! Haaaaaa! And so if you think someone may have… well, it was probably me! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
(They’ll be audio proof of that to share with you all very soon.)
Dudes, they were laughing! LAUGHING! Especially Clark Gregg who actually put his head down on the table, but I think his was more of a “Oh MY GOD NO SHE DI’INT” kind of laugh.” Obviously, he had never read my blog because hello! I talk about my nervous gas all of the time!
Fart Talk: The Great Ice Breaker!
Once I had everyone laughing, I no longer felt pressure or nervous and the words just started flowing from my mouth.
I told them that I wrote for a blog called Joy Unexpected and that I had very dedicated readers who knew I was there and how I wanted to take something back to them that would interest them and then, I proceeded to ask a Very Important Question…
”Do YOU read blogs?”
::::awkward silence::::
Seriously. It got so quiet in there.
“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot…”
Julia started to laugh and confessed that she didn’t even know what a blog was and a few of the others chimed in with confession of having never read a blog. One of the cast members said they had read ONE blog, but that it was poorly written and she hated it and vowed to never read a blog again.
I suppose a small part of me was hoping that they would say “why, yes, we know what a blog is! We were up reading yours last night!” I may have been a little disappointed that they had really didn’t know what a blog was as evidenced in my “notes” (if you can even call them notes because, well, look.)

(Those are my actual notes.)
(Shutup. I was nervous and shaking violently.)
After the “interview” was over, we got to sit down and watch a few minutes of a pre-taping of the show. Then, we hopped on a bus and headed over to a little coffee shop (which they closed down just for us!) and had a chance to talk with producers, executives and also Alex and Tricia from the show.
Then, we hopped back into the bus which took us back to the parking garage. We stood around and talked about what a great experience it was, said our goodbyes and headed back to our cars.
As much fun as I had that day, I was happy for it to be over because OH MY GOD, my girdle type underwear had pretty much cut off all circulation to my legs. I could NOT wait to rip those mofos off. As soon as I got into my van, I looked around, made sure no one was watching, reached under my skirt and began what felt like an hour long process of peeling off the chonies.
(Which reminds me, I really do need to take those things out of the glove compartment before someone (like MY KIDS) reaches in there to get a pen or a piece of paper and instead, finds my dirty, size Q chonies all wadded up in a big ball.)
At the end of the day, I was glad that I went. I was proud of myself for stepping outside of My Comfort Zone and putting my fears and insecurities aside. I was grateful for the oppurtunity to show the people of Hollywood who bloggers really are and let them know that “hey, we get gas too.”
I do not have pictures, because we were FORBIDDEN from taking pictures, but later this month, there will be pictures and also video (Ahhhhhhh!) that I will be able to post here. Stay tuned for THAT, because THAT is going to be very special.
I promise you.

“Do you know what a blog is?”

My daughter flat out refused to take a nap this morning.
She was all “Nap? Oh hells naw. I want to watch Barney and I WILL SCREAM UNTIL YOU LET ME WATCH IT!”
It’s as if she knew that I have a really great story to tell and she DIDN’T WANT ME TO TELL IT. (Yes, sometimes I think my daughter is out to get me and that she is trying to keep me from enjoying the simple things in life, like telling The Internet that I told famous people about my gas problem and the fact that I fart when I’m nervous. Oh YES I DID.)
Nap time is the time of the day in which I can take a shower (and also a dump, but not that the same time!) in peace. It is the only time in the day in which I can write, it is the only time of the day in which I can do pretty much anything that I want to do because I don’t have to worry about her climbing on furniture, or getting her daddy’s razor and attemtping to shave her face, or coloring on my walls, or taking all of the wicks out of my candles and so on and so forth.
She finally fell asleep about 10 minutes ago, but not without a fight. (and an assload of bribes. “I will buy you a Barney doll if you close your eyes RIGHT NOW and stop moving.” She’s too young to understand the “I will sell your toys on Ebay if you don’t listen!” threats, but she totally understands bribes. Whatever works, people. That is my parenting philosophy.) One would think that means I can finally write about my absolutely fabulous experience yesterday, right?
Wrong.
Because it is now 1:15, I must take a shower and get ready to pick the boys up from school.
But, because I love you, I’ll leave you with a little “taste” of what it was like until I can write about it later tonight.
Ready?
[a little taste]
Me: Oh my God. I’m so nervous. I am so nervous. I don’t know what to ask. I’m so nervous.
Her: Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal, it’s going to be fun.
Me: “Oh my God. Hold my hand. I’m so nervous. I can’t do this. I know, I’m so annoying. I know you want to slap me. Oh my God, you can slap me. Seriously. Or tell me to shutup, because I’m annoying. And nervous. Did I mention I was nervous?”
Yeah.
But, it gets better! I swear! Because she took me up on my offer and slapped the shit out of me** and man, that knocked the nervousness right out of my system.
Until the cast came out and I saw their PERFECT TEETH.
Then I was nervous again.
[/a little taste]
**quite possibly a lie

Warning: Parental Bragging (and also lots of talk of POOP) Ahead

One of the things that I was dreading about having to do toddlerhood for a third time was Potty Training.
I started trying to PT both of my boys at 2 1/2 years old and neither one of them actually was potty trained until a few weeks after their 3rd birthday.
They both fought it every step of the way. They especically fought “pooping” in the toilet. Every single time they’d have to take a dump, I’d find them hiding in the corner, grunting and red faced SWEARING that they weren’t pooping.
“ARE YOU POOPING?!”
“No *grunt* I’m *pfratta grunt* not. *grunt*”
I remember crying a lot, pulling my hair out a lot and falling on my knees asking God to send down his angels to carry my boys to the toilet when they needed to poop a lot.
I hated every single minute of potty training my boys. (Well, except the minutes where they would sit on the pot with a book and pretend to be pooping, because that was so precious.)
I have been putting off potty training G-Unit because I wasn’t sure that I was ready to go through the frustration and the changing of shit filled chonis.
Monday, I decided that I was ready to commit myself to potty training her and had stocked up on aspirin. (And wine. Lots of wine.) I also went to Target and bought her pretty little princess chonis and flushable wipes.
I was ready and I was hoping she was too.
I chickened out on Monday.
I chickened out on Tuesday.
But yesterday, I took the diaper off and put the chonis on.
I explained to her that from now on, when she needed to go pee or poop, she needed to go on the potty chair. (She had gone pee on the potty a few times before and had also pooped once. However, I would always put the diaper back on because of my “commitment issues.”)
She wore chonies all day yesterday, even when we went to basketball practice and she did not have a single accident. She would tell me everytime she needed to go and I would scoop her up and we’d run to the potty.
Each time she did it, I’d clap and cheer for her.
“I DID IT!” She’d squeel and then she’d flush the toilet and wash her hands.
Last night I started to worry because she had yet to Do The Doo. But at 7pm, she came running to me and declared “I need to poop!”
And poop she did.
Last night, she woke up twice to say she needed to go potty and when she woke up this morning, her diaper was completely dry. She’s been in chonis all day today and has yet to have an accident.
What the hell? This has gone entirely too smoothly. I’ve been waiting for her to pee or crap her pants, or beg for me to put a diaper back on her, but it’s not happening. She runs to the potty every time she has to go and doesn’t cry or whine about it. Infact, she claps and giggles and sometimes? She puts her head between her legs and says really precious things like “Come on, pachina, let the pee pee come out, ok?”
The real test will come on Saturday when we’re out at basketball games all day.
Could this really be true? Is it possibly my daughter is potty trained in two days? People have always told me that girls are easier to train than boys, but I never imagined it could be THIS easy.
I feel like I’ve won the lottery, man.

Respect… My Press Pass.

(Ok, I am a jackass. I had accidently posted this entry twice and instead of deleting the one with ZERO comments, I deleted the one with all of the comments. I’m so sorry if you took the time to leave a comment, and because I feel so bad, I will probably go through my email and repost your comment. GOD.)
Last week I received an email from Lisa Stone asking if I’d be interested in going to see a taping of The New Adventures of Old Christine.
I’ve been to several tapings for television shows (Friends, The Price is Right, Kids Incorporated.**) and it’s always been a fun experience (well, except for OUTHOUSES that we had to use at the taping of friends because God forbid the “little people” actually get to use real restrooms.) and so I said that I would love to go see a taping of that show.
Lisa said that someone from CBS would be in contact with me to give me more information about the taping.
The next day, I received an email containing the details for the taping.
The set visit will take place from 2:00-3:30pm and will include a pre-taping and interview with the entire cast and show creator and executive producer Kari Lizer.
Um.
Interview? With the entire cast? And creator/executive producer?
INTERVIEW? I WILL BE INTERVIEWING JULIA LOUIS-DREYFUS? WHAT?
My first thought was to back out. No way in hell could I do such a thing and let me list the reasons that ran through my head in no particular order.
“I have nothing to wear!”
“I’ve never done an interview before!”
“I have ugly teeth!”
“I’ll be the only fat girl there!”
“I’m just not smart, funny or thin enough to do something this awesome.”
This is what I do to myself every single time an opportunity presents itself in my life. I think of all of the reasons why I shouldn’t do it. I really don’t give myself much credit and the thought of failing or ruining EVERYTHING makes me physically ill and so I retreat and let the opportunity pass me by.
Then, I spend weeks, months, sometimes even years regretting it and crying about it.
It’s a pathetic way to live, really and over the past few years, I’ve learned to stop listening to those voices. They’re still there, I hear them, but I don’t give them as much power as I used to. (Thank you Internet and Dr.Phil for THAT.)
I’ve decided to go ahead and do it. I’m stepping (way) outside of my comfort zone –my “bubble”, if you will– but I know that if I let my (stupid) fears stop me, I will want to kick the crap out of myself later on for missing out on such a great experience.
There will be other bloggers there (quite possibly HER, which, holycrap I may die from the excitement!) although I’m not exactly sure how many. I’m hoping at least 100 so that no one will notice my giant body, or the gas that I will be expelling, or the fact that I have never interviewed anyone in my entire life and that the nervousness might get the best of me and I’ll end up doing something stupid, like, um, The Monkey.
(Lisa Stone is all “WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHY DID I ASK HER?”)
Here’s where you, my precious readers whom I love so much, can help me.
If you were me and you were sitting across from the entire cast and creator of The New Adventures of Old Christine, what question would you want to ask?
This may be considered “cheating” but I consider it giving me a chance to stand up and say “I write for a blog called Joy Unexpected and I have hundred of intelligent, articulate clean readers who have come up with some awesome questions that I’d love to ask you…”
(OMG.CHEESE)
I should let you know that Lisa is the one who gave me the idea to ask you. This is what she said.
Even better, why don’t you ask your readers what they think about the show and ask them for questions? They’re a FANTASTIC group. I adore you — but your readers make it even better.
She ADORES you, people. And so do I and man, I would really appreciate any help you could give me with this.

Continue reading

It has arrived

Today is The Big Day.
The day when I will sit in front of a panel of 5 people and answer questions like “why do you think you’re qualified for this position?”
(Do they actually ask that question? The last time I interviewed for a job was in 1990, so it’s been a while.)
I’m not nervous at all, which makes me nervous, because, shouldn’t I be nervous?
I guess I’m not nervous because I’ve decided that if it’s meant to be, I’ll get the job. If it’s not meant to be, then I won’t get the job.
I’m surprised by how calm I feel. Normally, today would be a post filled with EXCLAMATION POINTS!! AND ALL CAPS!!!
What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I not freaking out? DID SOMEONE PUT PROZAC IN MY CEREAL?
Ok, that felt better.
I’m just hoping that no one on the panel reads my blog, because that might not work in my favor.
“Whoa, I know that woman! She writes about her vagina on The Internet! PASS.”
The longer that I sit here and type, the more I find myself thinking of all of the things that could go wrong in this interview and while it doesn’t make me “nervous” it does make me think that I should take some gas-x.
*pffftatraatatatateeewffaaa*
You know, I’ve been pretty lucky as far as farting accidents go. For as gassy as I get when I’m nervous, I’ve only had two farts slip out in social situations in my entire life, and I almost got away with one of them.
The second one, well, I went ahead and claimed it as my own and moved on with my life. (Although, moving on with my life wasn’t as easy as one may think because when you fart in front of a bunch of kids that are supposed to “respect your authority” it takes a while for them to take you seriously again and to not make juicy farting noises every time you walk by.)
I almost freaked out about “having nothing to wear” but decided that if they don’t like my polka dotted skirt, then I don’t think I want to work for them anyway. (Translation: my polka dotted skirt is pretty much the only one that still fits me and I refuse to buy new clothes in this size. Flat.Out.Refuse.)
I should probably go get ready now, since I have to leave here in less than an hour.
Do you think they’ll notice if I don’t shave my legs?

What’s my name?

Yesterday, I needed to do a little grocery shopping, but I did not feel like taking a shower or putting on clean clothes. That didn’t stop me though. I just picked up the clothes that I had worn the night before, washed my face, brushed my teeth and headed on out to Vons.
The truth is, I don’t really care what I look (or smell) like when I go to the grocery store because, well, it’s the grocery store. I’m there to buy cheese and beef, not pick up hot guys or make new friends! So what if I have toothpaste stains on my shirt or if I smell like butt!
I was about halfway through my shopping list when I heard someone say “Excuse me…”
I ignored it the first time, because I didn’t think they were talking to me. Then I heard it again.
“Excuse me…”
I turned around and saw a woman with a beautiful little girl in her shopping cart.
“Yes?” I said.
“Hi. Are you Y from The Internet?”
(Swear to God, she actually said those exact words and I have the email to prove it.)
I wasn’t quite sure what to say because “Y from The Internet!!!
I’m not mocking her, because it was sweet and cute and also a little weird because OMG! SOMEONE RECOGNIZED ME FROM MY BLOG! CERAAAAZEEE!”
I think I said “Yes! I am! Hi!”
Or something creative and witty like that.
She went on to tell me how she recognized me, but wasn’t sure, but then she saw “G-Unit” (omg! I call her that on The Internet! And she just used it! Weiiiiird.) and just knew it was me and how she was so nervous but how she couldn’t let me walk by without saying hi.
Because I am a complete jackass, and felt bad that she was nervous to say hi to me, I reached over the display of boxes of cereal and HUGGED HER.
That was wrong on so many different levels. First of all, what if she hated hugs? What if she was uncomfortable with contact from strangers (from The Internet). What if she is allergic to the smell of Ripe Pits?
I couldn’t help it though, my “Impulsive/Gets Overly Excited Easily” disorder took ahold of my arms and compelled me to reach out and hug her! And as soon as I did it, I felt stupid and wanted to say sorry, but didn’t because that would have made it even worse.
She was very nice and actually hugged me back, which made me feel better about having lost all control of my hugging mechanism like that. However, it wasn’t long before my Jackass reared it’s ugly head again. I actually asked her THIS question.
“Not to be egotistical or anything like that, but (are you ready for this!?!) how did you find my blog?
It actually hurt me to type that out because it’s so LAME.
Seriously. Why did I stop with that question?
“Do you like my blog?”
“Do you think my blog is pretty?”
“Do you ever think about my blog during the day?”
“Would you like my autograph?”
“Does my blog make you hornay?”
God.
We talked for a few minutes and then I told her she should email me sometime. And she did, which was really great because I was sure the hug combined with the stupid question scared her off.
Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I’ve got, I’m still, I’m still Y from The Internet.
Anyway, Lori, if you’re reading this, thanks for saying hi and for being so nice and um, sorry about the body odor.
(You’re probably all “enough with this story! SHUTUP AND SCAN SOME PICTURES ALREADY!” And I’m all “did someone say ‘scan some pictures? I thought you’d never bring that up!”)
When I was pregnant with G-Unit, my husband said one of the greatest things anyone has ever said in reference to My Ass. He said he loved it and that he could “totally rest his cup on it.
I knew what he meant, like, it was just so out there that it drove him crazy and also, made him want to place a cup on it.
However, I didn’t realize how right he was about the whole “resting a cup on my ass” thing until yesterday.
cuponit
My ass was seriously begging for someone to place a cup of hot brew on it. I had no idea! I mean, I knew it was big and that it probably deserved it’s own Social Security Number, but I didn’t realize how it “POPPED.”
Like, here’s my ass. “POW!”
(I also didn’t realize on that day that I was singing at my brother’s wedding that my hair matched the wall paneling of my dad’s church!)
I spent a lot of time hating that ass you see right there, but man, what I wouldn’t give to have it back. It no longer gives off the “place a cup on it” vibe. It’s more of a “if you get too close, I will swallow you whole and EAT YOU FOR DINNER” vibe.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, because having an ass that is capable of swallowing people whole could actually come in useful someday.
Think about it.

Niiiice Tans

My Christmas present from my mother was a printer/scanner. I hadn’t bothered to set it up until yesterday, which was probably good in the sense that I’m not sure I’ll ever get anything done around the house because SCANNING! OLD! PICTURES! IS! FUN!
Life before the scanner involved having to take an actual picture of a picture that I wanted to post online. That was very complicated and involved me having to upload and edit photos and so I only did it once in a great while when I really thought there was a picture the internet just HAD to see.
Now, if there is a picture I want to share with the World Wide Web, all I have to do is press the scan button and WHOOMP! There it is!
I’m so excited about my new scanner that my mouth is actually watering right now. And I’m not only excited for myself, I’m excited for all of YOU. Were it not for my new scanner, this would have only been something you saw in your dreams.

Ah, young PigHunter, surrounded by The Ladies.
I have no idea who the girl in blue pants sporting the camel toe is, but I think we can all agree that, clearly, she did not have killer dance aerobic moves. I mean, what’s with the FIST, lady? Seriously, why was she even trying?
I have to admit that I am extremely jealous that those girls had the privilege of dancing with my man pre-Pale-N-Hairy legs. Man, what I wouldn’t give to love up on those young, tan, hairless legs.
(p.s. THE SHORTS!)
Now, in the spirit of “being fair”…

That was me at around the same age as Young PigHunter (15, to be exact.)
Notice that unlike my future husband, I am not surrounded by The Gentlemen. That is because I was a virtuous young woman who loved The Lord and also her foam, overnight rollers.
So, while Young PigHunter was living a life a sin, (I dare you to try to convince me that dancing in THOSE SHORTS in front of hornay young wimmins isn’t a sin!) Young Y was at home, putting rollers in her hair, while singing songs about how great God is.
The funny thing is that it would only be 2 years after that picture of my self was taken that PigHunter would fall madly in love with me and we’d be having our own little “Dance Parties” in the back of his blue Chevy Blazer.
(Up next on The Scanner: Blonde Me. Or maybe Skinny Me in a Leather Jacket)