Funny. And True.

They Are Much Cuter In Person

So I had this fancy schmancy bar graph all done up just to illustrate my point. But I couldn't transfer it over here so instead you'll just get to deal with my ramblings about how effed up school pictures are.

Both the boys came home with school picture order forms this week.

I vaguely remember my mother muttering under her breath about school pictures twice a year. Twice a year folks! Fall and Spring. Two chances each and every school year to swindle you out of your money. At least I think that is what she was muttering about. Either that or someone hadn't refilled the ice trays. Which I now understand is just as irritating as the school picture scam. Seriously. I didn't get it then....but boy do I now.

So as I was saying, both the boys came home with these forms. I sat down with my checkbook, pen in hand, and scanned the options. Holy freakin shit! You've got to be kidding me! You really get next to nothing for the major dough you're putting down for these school photos. And c'mon, let's admit it, what are school photos anyways? Thirty minutes out of your kid's day where he stands in line, then sits down, then has directions barked at him on how to put his arm just like this and wait, tilt your head this way, and then your chin this way, and he has no clue who this dude is behind the camera, and oh hey! say cheese little guy! He is nervous and sweaty and if he is anything like either of my children, he can't take a decent posed photo to save his life.

While I'm sitting there, contemplating selling a kidney to pay for the school portraits, it occurs to me that this whole deal of buying before you see them....sucks. Yeah. It sucks. When the Monster was in preschool, the small local photo gal gave us proofs and then let us pick the package we wanted. And you know what? Her pictures were awesome! Yeah I'm talking about you Holli! Since then I haven't had the choice of seeing what I'm paying for and its really starting to tick me off. Not only are they screwing us on the prices but they are also sticking it to us on the quality. And 16 wallets!!!! Who needs 16 wallets besides Middle School love birds and Seniors? Not me. Not my kids.

You know what I want? I want a photographer that takes a decent photo. That sends home a proof and then lets me pick and choose what I want in a package. I want someone that doesn't charge $18 for an 8X10. I want someone to respect me and the fact that I am getting roped into buying school pictures twice a year for 13 years and start adding multiple kids into the situation and that means I'll be buying 6 packages a year for 13 years and you know I never claimed to be so good with math but that equals a whole effen lot of school pictures. Half of which are going to suck. Oh lets be honest, probably more than half are going to suck. Because you know what....they're school pictures! If I want good pictures of my kids, I'll call Aunt Gayla, or take them myself.

Just stop it with the freakin school pictures. And while you're at it, don't make me sell wrapping paper, cookie dough, and overpriced candles. The only thing I'm cool with is the Scholastic book forms. Those you can keep sending home. Everything else....I'm boycotting.

You May Want To Avert Your Eyes

Completely inappropriate. Tasteless I know. But I just couldn't help but post this interesting picture of Mr. Bordain.

Press 1 for English

You don't speak English and you're going to put that needle where? Come again? I'm not sure I understood you. Actually wait, I am absolutely positive I didn't understand you. Get the hell away from me now! Comprende?

Last week I took my glucose test. For those of you not familiar with the intricacies of pre-natal care, at around 28 weeks they give you a test to make sure your body is processing sugar correctly and that you don't have gestational diabetes. Which is a type of diabetes you can contract while pregnant but it will go away once the baby has made its joyful entrance into the world.

So I went to the lab at our lovely small town hospital. I used to freak out about these kinds of things but this being my third rodeo so to speak, I can stay pretty calm now. I get back there and right off the bat notice that the girl wielding the needle is young, nervous, and Hispanic. Her being Hispanic had nothing to do with my apprehension. The fact that her English was next to non-existent had everything to do with it. Oh yeah, and her trembling hands that were prodding my arm searching in vain for a vein. She pokes, and thumps, and mumbles. Looks around frantically for someone to aid her. Its then that I notice her ID card that identifies her as student. Fuck! I politely ask for someone who knows what in the hell they are doing. See I know that I don't have the best veins. I've been given an IV or two in my day and it is not an easy task. So we get an actual professional (hahahaha, sorry involuntarily laughing at the term) to do it. She punctures the skin and can't find it.

"Ouch, its burning, shit it hurts, fuck would you please remove that dagger from my arm!"
"Oh well", she says, "we'll try your hand. You've got some nice fat veins there."
Good idea, genius. Try and hit one you can actually see this time. Her first attempt was equivalent to that of a drunk man trying to hit the hole in the dark. Pathetic and way off mark.

Aha! Eureka! We have blood. Okay, once that's over you are forced to drink a bottle of the nastiest tasting Sprite (ahem I mean glucose) ever produced. I can handle that without puking...almost. Wait an hour. Then another session with the Vampiric Blood Drawing Techs. One who may or may not speak English. It's still a bit unclear at this point. I sit back down in the chair and once again she is alone. She looks a little more confident this time so I decide, why not, lets give the kid a shot. She shoots, she scores! Blood is drawn, one tiny drop out of a whole vial is placed on a monitor for results, and conversation ensues between her and another Hispanic tech. Conversation that is not in my native language. Where did the white girl go? You know, the one who used my arm as a pincushion? I ask if I passed. Heads nod and one says haltingly..."Yes...good job." Huh, like I studied for it or something.

So I leave, a little holier than when I went in. I am happy. No three hour glucose test for me.

Fast forward to yesterday and my regular doctor appointment. Formalities aside...nope, no bleeding. Only two pounds gained. Awesome. Great heartbeat. Active little thing huh?

By the way. You failed your glucose test big time. You'll have to go back for the three hour panel. Sorry.

You are shitting me! Lying little non English speaking.....insert many more obscenities here to get the point.

So now, next Monday will be spent having my blood draw not two, but four times in one morning and drinking not a liter but a half gallon of glucose. Yippee. Can't you tell how much I am looking forward to it. Do you think they will call me a racist bitch when I request that only an English speaking, non-student come near me? Oh well, it's my right as an American citizen to make that choice. Press 1 for English, 2 for Spanish.