Mo' Better

ESG,
Here's a quick one for you (and the rest of the Cookies) -- I was just in the breakroom at work and noticed a bag of snack chips in the vending machine, the words "NOW BETTER TASTING" emblazoned across the front of the package. I mean, big enough so that I could see it from my post over by the microwaves (incidentally, I had noodles with homemade pesto. I can rock some pesto). But, pray tell...better tasting than what? And to whom? I don't recall anyone from that particular manufacturer asking me previously how I felt about the "pre-existing" taste. So then I think, more savory than, say, coffee grounds? That tuna melt that left me sick for a week when I was 19? An old shoe? Not quite so much of a claim to fame, then, eh? And isn't that sort of an admission on the company's part that, well, the old chips really weren't very good at all? Actually, I do recall that I liked the former version just fine, thank you very much. However, I guess this corporation is vested in my selective memory -- so now I should dutifully bleat, "Oh, yeah. Those chips used to taste like crap. How do I know? It says so, right there on the bag." A little too much like Orwell (1984) for me.

~All the best...CG

The Legend of Johnny and Sid

OK, OK. I've been remiss in my duties, I'll admit it. My cohort, Ms. ESG, a/k/a The Goddess (or, if you make a typo like I just did, then deleted, "The Goodess", which is equally appropriate), has been a much busier bee than me (I?) in posting to this fine blog -- created, incidentally, by The "Goodess" herself (I was the spiritual advisor). Since my life, in spite of my incessant whining about it, is actually pretty pleasant most days, it's sometimes hard to dredge up something to recount that I think others would find interesting, because, as we've already established, I'm a cynic by nature. I could post about my job, but that would be a) potentially dull -- I write contracts, and b) potentially dangerous (click on the link to Dooce, here and to the right of the screen). I could write about Ex-Husband #2, but will only do so in a tangential way, due to reasons previously outlined re: job. And yes, there is an Ex-Husband #1, but I have no idea where he is (Massachusetts?) or what he's doing now (teaching?), plus he was kind (I was the idiot in that one), so it's probably best to just leave the poor man out of my blog saga entirely. I do currently have a beau, but since the bloom isn't quite off the rose yet, I don't want to jinx it at this point. Or immortalize the relationship in print if it doesn't work out. Which leaves, finally(?), my kids.

Yes, there are kids. I have two, with Ex- #2 (a/k/a Sparky, as ESG likes to call him). A girl and a boy, ages eight and four. And although I think they're excessively adorable and charming and all that, I realize that they're my kids. You may find their antics engaging, or you may not, since THEY'RE NOT YOUR KIDS (well, except if you're Sparky). I mean, we've all, at one point or another, had to look at someone else's baby as though it were cute, but inwardly we were thinking, "That child looks like a mutant." Now, before you go getting all offended on me and saying I'm vile, that every child is a precious gift from God, etc. etc., let me say this: I'm with you. Every child is a precious gift, and I am quite frequently vile. But you know you've thought someone else's kid was ugly/annoying/insert-your-fave-derogatory-adjective HERE, at least once in your life. If you say you haven't, I won't believe you. And we're all about the truth here at Wanna-Cookie. Right, ESG? So, any posts I make about them will be held to the same standard I'd hold for posts on other topics...if it's not something I think would amuse if the children weren't mine own, I won't be putting it out there.

Anyway, my kids. I'm sure you're wondering about tagline for this post, and how it relates. I'd be wondering, too -- I have a tendency to digress. Sorry. So, in addition to my children being my moon and sun, my dear, sweet, loveable cookies and all that, they sometimes have a proclivity to snarkiness. I mean, they're really intense. And when something's on their minds, they make it known.

Keep in mind I work full-time, and am sole physical custodian, for which I am grateful, but, as ESG says...by Thursdays I'm frequently no more than an oily puddle on the floor by the time I get home. And the children, having spent their respective days at school and preschool, are rather weary themselves. And vocal. So things sometimes get a little weird at our house in the evenings, which is how my children came to be nicknamed, with all due affection, Johnny and Sid.

As in Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious, erstwhile vocalist and bassist, respectively, for the Sex Pistols.

Work THIS

ESG,
In keeping with the "A & B conversation" theme, I had to send you this snippet for feedback, as I'm more than a little annoyed. Here goes: at one point, I got on the "reader panel" e-mail list for a working women's magazine and have found it impossible to get off. I've tried to "unsubscribe", but alas, to no avail. Recently I got a little missive from the mag, as follows -- the Most High of the High-Ups at this fine publication is writing a book about working mothers and NEEDS A LITTLE INPUT FROM READERS ABOUT WHAT WORKING MOTHERS THINK. Wouldn't you think, that of all the people walking around on God's green earth, She Who Is Most High (and we're not talking smokin' the hookah here [at least, I don't think we are] -- more like Pres & CEO) would be precisely the one who SHOULDN'T need feedback? I particularly thrilled to the directive to "share your story...you might be in my book and help other working moms". Okay, then, MH -- I'll send you all my pearls of wisdom, and recount episodes of pathos I suffered through so you can put them in "your" book and make a gigantic profit. And I'm guessin', lady, you're not really struggling that much financially as is. How about YOU send me YOUR stories, She-Ra, Princess of Power, and I'll put them in MY book and make a big fat pile of money? Maybe then I'll be able to afford yet another new pair of tennis shoes for my kid after my ex-husband, in his infinite wisdom, ruined the ones I just paid $35 for by letting her wade into a lake with them on.

I also like the question, "If you are divorced, do you think your work had an impact on your marriage?" Yeah, that was it. I've been wondering all this time why he decided to leave me, and now I see the light -- I WORKED too much. If I just would have foregone a paycheck, he would have had less money to gamble with and would have come home from the casino sooner. If I would have been sitting at home, waiting for him with the porch light on, he might have found his way back to our neighborhood and wouldn't have fallen into someone else's bed. I'm only slighly cynical. Can you tell?