Anne Nahm's Journal

Monday Manifesto Installation

2008-05-19T13:54:08Z

Illness

Three people in our extended have recently discovered they have serious illness. Globally, our extended family is kind of a wreck about this. It is no good when someone you know is healthy and then suddenly, they are not.

One person has cancer and is not expected to live through this calendar year. The type of cancer he has is mostly found in smokers and in drinkers. Guess what? He smokes and he drinks.

And there is no time to be pissed at him or work this out, because all the time left is about loving him.

And Then She Said Everything Anyway

2008-05-19T13:04:05Z

So after that post a week ago where I was all Wahhh! Cannot talk! And such, a few things have happened.

1. I have stress eaten. I realized just how bad it was when I heard myself have this internal conversation: "Anne, you know if you go walk for twenty minutes, you will not be hungry."

And I answered myself with,

"shut up and eat this Ben & Jerry's. I don't pay you to think, up there".

SHOTS

2008-05-16T17:32:05Z

My five year old had her last set of pre-kindergarten shots Friday. It's that doctor's appointment where your kid is all proud they can kind of write their name for the doc and he gives them a bunch of stickers for jumping on one leg and knowing their numbers.

And also the appointment where the nurse has that talk about SHOTS! right in front of your kid.

One of those SHOTS! Being extremely painful for some reason.

It's in Leviticus Somewhere, Next to the Sins of Polymer Fabric

2008-05-13T15:53:29Z

You know those Old Testament type stories, where the wife gets all dried out and used up because she has to live in Old Testament Times, and holy shit, those times were hard with their outdoor plumbing, plagues, and occasional burning bush?

And then! To add insult to injury, Ole DryUp has to go procure a youthful, sexy concubine as part of her marital vows?

Bulimia Confession - Watch Out For Splatter

2008-05-10T18:45:34Z

I feel real tied up and bound with all these stifling confessions that are choking me and holding my head under water. Stressful things have happened to people I care about. I don't feel like I can talk about those things because it is not my story. I feel it would be a low-down, selfish thing to expose someone else's pain by writing about them, behind their back, for the amusement of strangers (to the wounded party, at least).

So I am mad at these people with their problems, because my outlet for stress reduction is all tied up in their privacy. I feel like I have spent most of my day so far resisting the urge to kick a dog with three legs or something - desperately want to vent, no matter how mean to the other party it would be do do so! Am asshole. Can't talk about anything because I am so pissed that I can't talk about everything.

Need to change out of my kicky shoes.

Taking Nipples for the Team

2008-05-06T16:19:37Z

I met up with my somewhat defunct church group last night. One of my friends who is my age is pregnant for the first time. She was all cute and naive, like most pregnant women when they want to talk to their friends about all things baby. Also, she has a super cute baby bump. Also? She is tall and skinny.

I remember being pregnant for the first time, and asking people things about baby birthing and raising, and expecting polite and gentle answers from these women sharing the bonds of motherhood with me.

And then sobbing, face down, into my three chins and heaving belly when they told me stories of unimaginable horror and grisliness until I wanted to reach down and cover my vaginal opening so that my poor innocent baby would not have a chance hear of the terrors about to befall us both.

Making the 70 Year Old Turtle Cry

2008-05-05T01:19:05Z

That title is not a euphemism for sex with an old dude or anything. I did that today. Made a turtle cry.

I took the kids to our podunk zoo this morning, to give my husband some time off. We got to the zoo right when it opened. (Because my two year old wakes up at 6:15 in the morning every day and demands things. Like food and a diaper change. I have been trying to show her how to do these things for herself. So far, no dice.)

At the zoo, on a Sunday, in the first hour that they open the gates? Not too many people there. So me and my two lovely children kept bumping into the same little blue haired ladies who were taking a morning constitutional amongst the animals. It gets awkward, you know? Bumping into the same two people all over the zoo.

I realize it's not as awkward as back in college, when you discover the guy with whom you drunkenly played tonsil hockey at the Frat party Saturday night is also the T.A. for the Chemistry class you Tuesday afternoon or anything.

No More Talking. Ever.

2008-05-01T19:55:57Z

This week, I am a blistery, bruised, pruned-up nipple. From which everybody I know has come over, sucked out my vital nutrients, and gnawed my skin raw with their neediness and emotional upheaval.

Children? Needy. Husband? Needy. Mother? Needy. Checker at the grocery store? Needy. Panhandler? Would give me a quarter to listen to him bitch until the light turns green.

I would pay him a hundred to STFU and let me have a moment to think.

Pop Quiz

2008-04-29T13:40:44Z

Hi. I’m getting a D+ in Anne 301 this quarter. Halp!

I thought I’d put you guys in the driver’s seat and see if you can do any better. Just what you were looking for on a Tuesday! Acing the How to Be a Better Anne Pop Quiz!

Pencils ready? Go:

Lazy Weekend

2008-04-28T02:19:51Z

Went to the beach yesterday.

Had the whole world briefly in my hand. It smelled of low tide.

I'd have a better title, but I smell dinner burning

2008-04-24T02:46:43Z

I just got a glossy letter in the mail, attempting to squeeze money out of my tightly clenched fist, in the name of my high school alma mater. Which was a boarding school, in case you are new here. Or not so new. It may have actually been years now since I mentioned this. Or maybe it was last week. Life is fuzzy here on the internet.

Anyway. Glossy brochure!

Somewhere Between Being Hip & Just Breaking One

2008-04-22T13:32:40Z

Something about people mentioning Twitter makes me want to pull my stretch pants up under my boobs* and scream out the window, "Get your damn twittering off my lawn!" Then go hit the early bird special. Those crazy kids.

In other news, I got very lonely to talk to real live people. About anything not related to parenting. My lame dinner parties weren't giving me any satisfaction. Possibly because I kept slapping guests with my white leather glove and saying, "I demand satisfaction!"** What did happen was most people looked at me funny and left.

Except that girl who slapped me back and then got naked. Failure all around.

Because Its Friday

2008-04-18T15:45:12Z

And damnit, the internet entertains me:

I wanna be a pop star! Video that makes Nickleback funny. Impossible you say?

So would I have thought, but it is actually true.

Pregnaphobia

2008-04-16T14:58:56Z

I am scared about having another baby. There is no good way to write this without being inconsiderate to people you love. Like babies. Or your friends that are trying to have babies. Or who can’t have babies. Or other moms. Or the person with whom you are going to make babies. Or your parents. Or the pope.

Sorry Pope.

Inability to Manshop - Probably Also How Marilyn Monroe Ended up in that Video

2008-04-15T13:14:11Z

My husband’s birthday is coming up. Being a terrible wife with minimal insight into my husband’s interests and enjoyments, I hardly ever know what to get him. Mostly I put off thinking about it and then panic at the last minute and get him a sexual favor.

It saves on wrapping time.

How to get 400+ hits from Craigslist over one Weekend.

2008-04-11T16:06:20Z

You will Need:

1/2 Dozen bored individuals looking to debate the age old internet question: > Than Size 4 = Fatville

1 photo of 400 pound, naked man sitting in front of computer

The Universe Gives Me the Bird

2008-04-07T21:26:31Z

You know when you freak out a little because of the paper cuts? And then more paper cuts show up, and you feel like you are a little dizzy from lack of blood or something? And then more paper cuts and suddenly you are a all woozy? And one or two more cuts after that, the real world kind of fades away and instead you are in your own TV musical sitcom like Alley McBeal or something with the singing and the random references and bright colors and stuff? And then you just pass out or something?

Yeah? Good. I would hate to just keep telling this story if you didn’t.

The Day Hasn't Even Started Yet

2008-04-04T14:42:47Z

I am bleeding out from a thousand little paper cuts of everyday stress and disappointment. There is no one to call when this happens, because who dies of a paper cut?

No one. That's who.

I am Actually the Normal One in My Family

2008-04-01T13:55:13Z

Allergies are having their way with me this week, peeps. Every orifice on my body itches. Two orifices that don't usually leak are leaking all over the damn place.

I am like the Dorothy Garland of allergy meds, too, with the taking of meth's legitimate cousin Sudafed in the morning along with some other non-drowsy allergy relief and then a whopping dose of benadryl at night. Still? My body is all OMGWTF ANNE! I have had it with the allergens! One more allergic reaction and I will freak the eff out on you!

I walked under a pine tree yesterday and my butthole sneezed. I've rarely had that happen.

I'm a little scared to find out what happens next.

Get down girl. Go ahead, get down.

2008-03-30T15:32:29Z

To: The bored looking, middle-age, middle-weight, unkempt woman sitting in the Vietnamese Deli yesterday with the 20-something guy who appeared to be hanging on your every word:

Fool Porn

2008-03-26T15:59:40Z

This month's Martha Stewart Living ,

(which I thumb through when I am in the mood for fantasy escapist housekeeping porn of what life would be like if I channeled all my will for living into something like tablescapes and organized pantries

instead of things like scratching my butt and reading the internet)

The Adventures of Off The Pill Anne

2008-03-24T13:21:00Z

What Life Looks Like On The Pill:

Days 1 - 26

Sweet, chemically induced uterine silence.

Day 27

Anne: Hi, Period. I have you down for arrival tomorrow, sometimes between noon and five. I'll take some accommodations in the gym bag just in case you get here before lunch. And I'll be starting up new pills on Sunday, so I am expecting you to clear out of here by Monday morning. Will there be anything else?

Period: No, Ma'am. Pleasure to be working with you.

Three Things

2008-03-19T13:53:43Z

* If you are completely bored in Mommy & Me this week, helping the two year olds dye Easter Eggs with all their dumping and giggling and tip-toe walking over the magical properties of eggs that start out white and soon become black with speckled black spots after being dumped in every color twice

(wheeeeeee! - also tackling them to scrub them down before they go hug the mom in white pants?)

and allergies are real bad? And you think the other mothers and kids are not looking?

It is still not ever OK to do any sort of nose picking.

Peeps are Evil

2008-03-16T00:34:10Z

Peeps taste like a bag of ass made with ass juice and dingleberry filling.

Also, peeps are evil.

Repression: It Is What's For Dicker... Dinner. I Meant to Say Dinner.

2008-03-11T16:26:24Z

Yesterday morning, half high on sleep deprivation due to time change and a stunning upset in the Nahm Family Coffee Department (the container appearing to have at least one more scoop in it. But it was all lies and bean shavings upon inspection), I whipped off that last post, hit publish, and cruised over to Yahoo News. Then about five minutes later, I leisurely returned to reread my post. Ah vanity publishing, never a more lackadaisical editor than here.

Anyway, where it now says in that last post:

Need to go to the chiropractor this morning?

What I had published said this:

Need to ball the chiropractor this morning?