Awards! Enough Already Edition

This week's Awards are being held in honor of Amy, who is justifiably sick of all the inauguration crap, and Madeleine who doesn't give a hoot which number we're on, and to Redzils and her college campus. Redzils, I thought of you the moment I heard this morning.

Now to the Ceremony:

KLee gets a Brevity Award for "I am so freaking tired of getting in trouble for doing my damn job. That is all." KLee, I've got the cluestick at the ready, point me to the blockhead(s) that need(s) a good firm whacking and I'm there.

JenR and Esperanza get a Go-Go's single and a time-turner so they can go back and stop themselves talking about how well their babies are sleeping. NEVER TELL ANYONE HOW WELL THE BABY IS SLEEPING.

Redzils gets the (un)coveted Morton Salt Award ("when it rains, it pours") with Apocalypse Clusters for her adventures with fire, dissertation defense, ice, and, as stated above, a rider on a pale horse. What's next? Pestilence? Oh WAIT! She already had that!

Margalit and Elizabeth get the Intrepid Adventurer Award for actually BEING THERE. My dears, I salute you both. Thank you for representing WW. Now go check your toes for frostbite.

Kathy A. wins the Hands Tied Award for what is just a horrible situation.

Esperanza wins the Silver Lining Award for her Baboo's new assessment. On the one hand, she's not meeting some of her milestones; on the other, she now qualifies for intervention. And she's a charmer!

Amy gets Elevated Risk of Mullet this week for "Also, the baby (3.5 months) still doesn't sleep at night and my daughter has a cold and suddenly feels inspired to be a hands-on big sister. Shoot me."

And finally, Sue gets the Catch 22 Award for dealing with a lost passport, on top of which she has morning meetings.

Jumbo boxes of Kleenex to all those dealing with colds.

That's our show for this week. Thank you all for joining in and sharing this Whiner's Inaugural Ball with me.

Tune in next week when our host will be the lovely and talented Madeleine.

Special Inaugural Edition

Bring us your tired feet, your poor chilled hands, your huddled masses on the mall yearning to see Barack Obama take the oath of office, and whine about them right here.

Antiwhine: I just got home from a ball, which was truly enormous fun.
Whine: The Governer did NOT show, in fact MS was one of two of the highest elected officials there.
Antiwhine: We met the second man to set foot on the moon, and we met several really nice local people with whom we hope to keep in touch.
Whine: My feet hurt.
Antiwhine: The LargeMuseumAtTheAirport was GORGEOUS with mood lighting. Space craft should always be shown that way.

Tomorrow, I plan to watch the Inauguration with the Young Democrats at a local restaurant.

What are your plans? Your whines? Come, tell us all!

ETA: Me dressed for the Ball last Friday. Unfortunately, you can't see the hair, which was done like a bouquet of brown curls. And I'm holding myself really stiffly, I don't know why.

Awards!

Folks, it is the end of an era here at the Whiner’s Ball. Yes, Esperanza does not win an award for Remembering What It’s All About, having no nursing or boob-related whines this week!

Plenty of boobs in the lineup, though, and they are all waiting for mammograms. The Cluestick Posse is hereby dispatched to all the insurance people and scheduling people who make it easy to say, "to hell with it." Sue generously offers use of her SuperHero Cape, as well.

Liz sweeps the Style category, with her elegant, overwhelming List of Now It Can Be Told. Nine out of 10 Pixies are still feeling faint just from reading it. Best with all of it, Liz!

Elevated Risk of Mullet to Sarah, whose baby is sleeping so well that she worries "she'll be a boring conformist with no insomnia problems." We shall not remind you of this (very often) when the little sweetie-pie decides that 2 a.m. means time to par-tay!

Competition is fierce in the Old Skool category this week. And the winners are: Genevieve, whose family and the cast of kiddo’s performance are victims of the stomach plague; Madeleine, who whines about dog pee in the snow, arguing that "those dribbling yellow spots" are "disgusting"; and Esperanza, whose Baboo was gifted with a "CD player" that is "sucking every last brain cell out of my head."

Hugs and much love to Elizabeth, whose mom may get a transplant soon. Our thoughts are with you and mom.

Too Much Information Award to Klee, and wishes for a quick improvement.

Front Row Seat Award to Margalit, who planned a simple trip to the vet, but ended up seeing a firetruck accident. "I didn't even know the city HAD that many cops," she reports. (Thanks to Madeleine for suggesting this award.)

Magical Sleeping Crib Award to JenR! The Pixies suffering from insomnia (personal, or feline) are lining up for a little nap!

Sympathy, condolences, and a bit of what is soothing for what ails you to all Pixies suffering from: going back to work; pressure to go back to work; deadlines; houseguests while the hostess is suffering from the plague; snipe-ish friends who don’t return calls then get irritated they didn’t hear something first; budget cuts; spelling errors; pressure to adopt a dog; political frustration; war; teenagers; ice and cold; loss of services; colds and the attendant snot; illnesses of any type; diets; clothing complaints; flat tires; moving and all its glory; scheduling things; forced smiling; and/or impending nervous breakdowns.

Thanks for playing! See you next week, when our own political maven, the incomparable Liz, will host a Special Inaugural Edition of WW!

"Please Stay On the Line" Edition

Greetings, Pixies! This week's whine-a-thon is brought to you by the Department of Consumer Dissatisfaction. Our adventure this week involved the following:

Me: I need to schedule a mammogram. Last week, I faxed a letter, my doctor's referral, and my insurance information, and I haven't heard back.

Phone Person [irritated]: Ma'am. This is a call center. We cannot make outgoing
calls.

Me: OK. How can I schedule my mammogram?

PP [irritated]: Patients are supposed to call for appointments. But first, your doctor needs to send a referral.

Me: My doctor sent a referral; I sent a copy of that referral; then my doctor sent another referral.

PP [condescending]: You need to check with your insurance company to see if it is approved.

Me: [??? breathe.] I need the mammogram. My sister has breast cancer. I haven't had one in years. How can I schedule it?

PP [chirpy voice]: Oh, I can do that for you! Our next available appointment is January 30....

I try not to lose patience with phone people, but it was hanging by a thread. Is there some kind of hidden crisis with people scheduling recreational mammograms? Or what?

In antiwhines, daughter turned 20! One of the adopted feral cats is finally letting me pet him! [For his next trick, we are working on the purr.] Football season is over, more or less!

What's cooking with you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~
ETA: Maybe I'm prickly or something, but is anyone else bothered by the outgoing prez declaring a state of emergency because there is gonna be an inauguration?

Birthday Presents for All!

Happy Birthday to all of us! I am sending virtual presents out to all the pixies, and there will be no guilt attached. Special birthday hugs for Genevieve and KLee's Offspring who almost shares my birthday.

The idea of inviting people to Our House for my birthday hasn't come up again since Monday, and in fact just last night My Love said he'll probably need to work all weekend, finishing grading for last semester, so I think I am off the hook for party-level cleaning. Now I just need to straighten up a bit for my Mom's visit . . . She brings chaos so it is best to start with a clean slate when possible.

Now on to the prizes!

MysteryMommy Liz lives up to her name this week . . . She gets the Agatha Christie Award for her mysterious unbloggable anxiety about something good. But not any of the obvious things. We'll stop guessing, Liz, but let us know eventually, if you can. We're rooting for you, whatever it is!

Step Away from the ER Awards go to kathy a. for her julienned finger (Ouch! in style, no less) and KLee for her untreated bone spurs (with a side of cluestick for her non-treating doctor).

esperanza wins the coveted Remembering What It's All About Award for her post-pumping bra fit woes. We feel you. Though not literally, like the professional bra fitter will. (And our sympathy on the Return of Teh Period and the attendant existential questions.)

Old Skool Award for Elizabeth, for a trifecta of common complaints: weight gain, pinkeye, and crappy weather. Runner-up to Genevieve, whose own trifecta is a little bit old-skool and a little bit rock-and-rollWeb 2.0.

kathy a. gets this week's Super Hero Award for being Aunt Incredible.

Special This-Week-Only* Eeeeewwwwwww Award to Sue and her inappropriately dressed yoga classmate. Ewww. EEEEEEwwwwwww. EEEEEEWWWWWWW.

The Four-Is-Two-All-Over-Again Award goes to Amy and her LOUD DAUGHTER. So sorry, Amy. I definitely remember that stage. And I'm sad to report that while some of the other behaviors have improved, Snuggly Girl still has the voice immodulation disorder. Four years later.

The Elevated Risk of Mullet Award for best single sentence in a Wednesday Whine goes to . . . . PK and her mysterious computer ailment, which gave us this doozy:

I'm going t try tofx that tonight,because this is wht itends uplooking like with the constnt ttemtpat taking over my typing cursor if I don't make multiple repeated an freuent crrections.

And thanks for making the unknown number of corrections necessary to make the rest of your posts more readable!

Special Whine-free Zone Awards for Sue and Purple Kangaroo, who deserve it for a change!

Thanks for all of your birthday wishes. I'll be back next week to whine about my mom's visit, my satellite company's incompetence, and anything else that comes up. And you know something will. The talented and lovely kathy a. will host.

* We hope. Both for the award and for the cause of it.

WW: "I'll Whine if I Want To" Edition

That's right, pixies, it's my party and I'll whine if I want to. This Saturday I turn 40.

I'm actually not that het up about it. My Love has made a tradition of turning to me on New Year's Eve and saying, "Hey, your birthday is coming up. You're pushing 40." He's been saying this for about 8 years, so I had plenty of time to get over it. (He's a year and a half younger than me, hence the age jokes.) Now I'm just wondering what he'll say next year.

The whining follows all the usual patterns:

• My mom sent a wistful email and I caved and invited her to visit for my birthday even though I didn't want to. I'm getting tired of reverting to adolescence in her presence. But I figured, hey, free baby-sitting at least. Increases the chances that My Love and I will actually fit in some form of celebration. Which leads to . . .
• What exactly are we doing to celebrate? I figured we'd go out to dinner and maybe leave early enough to also see a movie or hang out at a bookstore cafe. But no, now he's making noises about having people over here. Which means I need to clean the house.
• Hello? It's my birthday and he's making me clean the house? Right when I'm in the middle of the unfinished New Year's Cleanup Project?
• On the other hand, a bit of motivation to finish that cleanup isn't bad. Except it mostly meant shoving the craft supplies back onto the shelves un-pruned this afternoon.
• One (out of two) of our very good friend-couples had a big gala 40th last month, dinner at a fancy restaurant for 30 people. We aren't doing that. Ahem. But that couple is putting some level of expectation on him, I think, so he feels like he should do Something.
• I just keep repeating, "I have no expectations. I have no expectations." But how low-self-esteem is that? Shouldn't I have expectations?
  
• It's the first week of his semester. He's also hosting a work event. He worked all through Winter Break and is still in a complete panic over work. Plan a party? Who is he kidding?
• Anti-whine: we did come to agreement on my idea for a pricey birthday present. I want a DVR, and the one from our satellite/phone company is expensive. But we decided it would make sense to "rent" it instead. That way we can ditch it in a couple of years if we go High Def or decide to drop the satellite. And the rental price for a couple of years is my birthday present to myself. Just, you know, one drop at a time.
• But when I called yesterday to order it, they hung up on me. The phone company. Hung up on me. Sigh. Try again later, birthday girl.

So that's my litany of birthday whines. Nothing about wrinkles or grey hair or jiggly bits, because really, I don't care much about those. Join the party and whine with me!

Happy 2009 Edition!

Cheers to a brand new 2009! Happy New Year to all, and may fortune, health, and good parking karma rain down upon all the Pixies!

Two of our members had fireplacing craptacular endings to that old year we just consigned to the dustbin of history. The How Many Shoes Must Drop? Award to Purple Kangaroo and Margalit. The Pixie Relief Squad sends hugs, pain relief, home repair specialists, housecleaners, clue sticks, veterinary services, computer magicians, and some peace and quiet already, by sled-dog if necessary.

Old Skool Award to Madeleine, for her classic, timeless "winter break by the numbers" whine. Runner up to Liz, who complains of crusty scrambled eggs and no cream cheese at the cafeteria.

Elevated Risk of Mullet Award to Amy, for her "in-lap anti-whine for 2008: a snuggly, smiley baby who i think just pooped."

Style Award to JenR, for her "haiku brought to you by the letter P (for projectile!)" on the subject of baby barf. Brava!

Sham-Wow Cultural Awareness Awards to Klee and Amy.

Party Dilemma Award to Amy, with thanks to all the Pixies who weighed in with similar tales and ideas.

Five's a Crowd Award to Esperanza, whose family insisted on sending four (4) escorts when she went to return a gift.

Scary Road Encounters Award to Klee.

Setting the Cluestick Posse out to find and educate Sue’s fireplacing insurance company.

Bite Guards and magic wands all around to the TMJ Club: PK, Liz, Klee, Margalit.

Thanks for playing! See you next week, when the fabulous Madeleine will host!