The challenge* is to post a picture from your prom. That’s easy since I recently saved all my scanned pictures to my hard drive.

While it’s easy to share my old pictures with you, it’s harder is to share my feelings towards these old pictures. Or the experiences that go along with the pictures.

At my school, we had Senior Prom. I didn’t realize that most schools did a Junior Prom that was more important. To me it was all about the Senior Prom. I guess I always knew I would get asked to the Prom. I knew that if it came down to it, Lance would ask me.

Sure enough. He asked me. He asked me months in advance.

Lance (not his real name, except that it totally is) and I had been very close friends since we were younger. I guess I had always known he had a crush on me. For whatever reason, nothing ever became of it. Looking back, that was probably really stupid on my part. He was a great guy. We always had a blast together. Honestly thought, he never made an official move. He just talked about liking me.

Side note to 16 year old Lance: Actions speak louder then words, dude!

I wanted to wear something black and sexy. Just because it was so not like me (at the time. Of course now I’m all about the sexy.) My Mom didn’t want me to wear anything tight or sexy or black. We found a very virginal dress. I didn’t really like it. My Mom promised me that if I got it she would pay for me to get my hair and nails done and would let me buy whatever shoes I wanted.

I got the dress she wanted. And wore a sexy black slip underneath, for me.

(For annotated version, click here.)

My Mom bought me some fake nails to apply myself. Not really the same thing as “getting your nails done”. But I wasn’t in a position to complain. I got my hair done professionally for the first time and bought some awesome black heels that laced up. (Gag!)

I told myself that I would kiss Lance. But only if he tried to kiss me. I let it be known that this was my plan. I felt like I was throwing the kid a bone for always being so darned good to me. I fully planned to kiss him.

We had a great night. We went with a groups of friends from our neighborhood, ate at a fancy restaurant, went bowling before hand, and even went to the movies afterwards. The Prom was held in the cafeteria of the local college. My parents, along with all the other parents, came to watch. It really was a magical night. Just like Prom should be.

I was anticipating the kiss at the end of the night. I knew it was going to happen. I knew Lance would put the moves on me. Finally. We said our good-bye’s in the kitchen. I recall sitting on the counter, leaning in close to Lance.

Waiting.

Waiting, some more.

He never tried to kiss me.

That was it. That was his only chance. (I was mean like that.)

Fast forward to our early 20’s. Lance and I still spent a ton of time together. My family had since moved, but we made it a point to see each other. I gave it lots of thought and decided it was (about) time Lance and I take our relationship to the next level. We should start to date. As in; please Lance, will you be my boyfriend after all of these years of me stringing you along?!

I was floored when Lance told me that he thought we should remain “just friends”. He said there was just too much between us to ruin it. He said we were past all of that. Plus, I think he was banging a girl from our old ‘hood.

I was pretty certain he was bangin’ her a few years later when I left my first husband. Since Lance was still my friend I went to his house to tell him the news. He wasn’t there. His Mom told me with fear in her eyes; Oh, Isabel. He’s going to marry her!

As always, what’s the point of this post?

Did you see the hideous shoes I wore to my Prom? No wonder Lance didn’t want to kiss me.

*Play along. If you dare.

Welcome to Wednesday morning. Here are a few things on my mind this morning:

• We don’t live near a grocery store. Plus I never have a car to drive to the grocery store. Thus me doing my grocery shopping online. $7.95 is a small price to pay for grocery delivery, no? Unfortunately, it takes about an hour to do my shopping online. Not including the time it takes to pull Babboo away from the computer wires.
• I don’t know what happens in downtown Seattle while I’m in bed asleep, but it always looks like a mess in the morning; garbage everywhere, the smell of urine, even condom wrappers.
• Are you reading Frema’s online soap opera yet? If not, you are dead to me.
• I’m not sure what they are feeding Babboo at school, but the kid poops his pants all day long. If I change a diaper, there is a 94% chance that it will contain dookie.
• The King and I have been trying to talk people into watching the new show Rules of Engagement. We’ve really been liking it lately. But this week’s episode sucked donkey ass. So um, if you watched it this week because I suggested it, I’m sorry.
• The King and I are still sleeping in the front room. I don’t dare move back into the bedroom until Babboo has slept through the night for a few nights in a row. That has yet to happen, damn it.
• It was 70 degrees here in Seattle last week. Today I just about froze on my way into work.
• I miss the sun and have almost given up hope that I will ever see it again.
• The King was in LA for five days last week for work. Including the weekend. Again, I have a new found respect for single moms. It’s a lot of work to take care of a kid alone.
• What did we do while The King was gone? Babboo and I put on our blazers and took pictures of us together. Fun times. We’re glad The King’s back home.

• A bunch of people I know, including myself, saw the movie The Holiday this weekend. Did you see it? What did you think about it? Because basically I thought it was horrible. Jude Law is unbelievably hot, but the movie was still horrible.

• I won a Whoorlie award today. It’s my first ever blog award, and I’m thrilled. Awesome, I know. It would be funnier if it was a “Whore-lie” award for being such a whore. But truthfully, I’m glad it isn’t an award for being a whore. Which, for the record, I am not.
• I’m really looking forward to this weekend. More specifically Friday night. I’ll report more on that next week.

So tell me, what’s on your mind today?

When I was in high school everybody was really into Girbaud jeans. Do you remember those jeans? They had the little white tag thing on the crotch and were so cool. And also very expensive. So of course, I never owned any. I felt like the only kid in high school that didn’t have a pair of Girbauds.

When I was in college, nobody was wearing Girbauds anymore. By the time I was grown up and married, really nobody was wearing them. But now, Girbauds were much cheaper and you could buy them at Costco. Finally I was able to get my own pair of Girbauds. Only like 5 years too late.

It seems like I’m always just a little behind the cool kids. That’s just how I roll.

Things have not changed for me in my old age. I’m still a day late and a dollar short.

Back in November Frema introduced a weekly segment to her already wonderful blog ala my own King Friday and the Wednesday Advice Smackdown. But Frema’s was going to be just a little different.

You see, Frema wasn’t your average 14 year old. While I was still playing with dolls and crushing on boys, Frema was writing her own soap opera in spiral notebooks. Did you catch that? She was writing her own soap opera.

Because Frema loves us and is so brave, she decided to type up her over 60 pages of story (errors and all) and share them with us in weekly installments. She called it Tragic Love Friday and it’s pure Heaven.

It’s about a group of teenagers. But not just any teenager. No, these teenagers drink, sleep around, heck, some may/may not even wind up in State Prison. (I don’t want to give anything away.) She was even so great as to post who would be cast to star in it:

While Frema was posting her story every week, I felt like I was too busy to follow along. I was mean and selfish. And because of this I missed out on the wonderful and highly addictive story. I also missed out on the discussions via her comments section.

Besides the awesome plot, Frema added her own (present day) comments throughout the posts. I admit to being moved to tears while reading them. Tears from laughing so hard. Dude, that crap is funny. I am not lying when I say that I spent the better part of this last weekend reading all of the Tragic Love Friday archives. My eyes were burning from laughing, crying and looking at my laptop screen.

It was worth it.

Tragic Love Friday was wrapped up a few weeks ago. I was sad to see it end. But guess what, 14 year old Frema wrote a sequel. Which she’ll begin to post this week.

Did you hear me? 14 year old Frema not only wrote her own soap opera, she wrote a sequel. And again, she is sharing it with us. We heart you 14 year old Frema.

Why am I telling you about this? Because I love you, dear internet. And I don’t want you to be wearing your Girbauds long after they have gone out of style. I want you to be one of the cool kids while it’s still hip.

So jump on the band wagon, visit Frema’s Tragic Love Friday archives, get caught up, play along in the comments section, and wait for the unveiling of the sequel.

I promise you won’t be disappointed.

I promise.

I was tagged by the always awesome Jezer. And this one is all about music. Music, which I love.

Here’s the game:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

So we all know about how I am lame and can’t ever decide what music to download on iTunes. I had that free download for way too long. And then I won another free download and then for Christmas I was given even more free downloads. What I’m saying is that I have been rolling in the free downloads.

A few weeks ago a coworker gave me 100 free downloads.

Did you hear me?

ONE HUNDRED FREE SONGS!

Of course this was with some odd music site (totally legal) and they don’t offer the same selection that iTunes does. It’s more indy music. But hey, I like indy music. And the 100 songs that I thought would take weeks to use up, were actually mostly used up in less than an hour.

(If you want to know how to get the 100 free downloads, let me know and I’ll totally hook you up.)

What I’m getting at is that I have so many new songs that it’s hard to pin point it to 7 songs that I’m currently into. (Plus, I can’t seem to get my iPod to give me an accurate play count.)

(oh, and it this post bores you to no end, just skip to the bottom where I will present you with adorable pictures of my Sweet Babboo!)

Here’s the list. In no particular order:

Zahl eins- Down Home Girl by Old Crow Medicine Show. I don’t know much about this band. Only that I love them. And that they appear to really enjoy the cocaine. (They talk about it in just about every one of their songs.)

Zahl zwei- Victor Vito by Laurie Berkner. Yes, I love my kid’s music. Especially Laurie. She’s good. The King likes her, Babboo likes, I really like her. (And believe it or not, I got a ton of her stuff with the free 100 downloads. Who knew she was so indy?)

Zahl drei- Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. For whatever reason this song has always been special to me. And since I just downloaded it, I can enjoy it anytime I want. Which is most of the time.

(notice how I’m keeping up with Jezer and counting in a different language?!)

Zahl vier- Wind it Up by Gwen Stefani. I have recently noticed that Gwen doesn’t really have an amazing singing voice. She would never make it on American Idol. Never. What she does have is awesome style. And funky beats.

Zahl fünf- (Oh my gosh, I just learned how to type out an umlaut on my keyboard. I am a genius.) Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk by Rufus Wainwright. If you have not had the pleasure of enjoying my Rufus Wainwright, please do so. He is dreamy and so is his music.

Zahl sechs- Timebomb by the Old 97’s. I was able to download this song off their new Alive & Wired cd. This band is so awesome, but even more awesome live.

Zahl sieben- I Am My Own Grandpa by Asylum Street Spankers. I just got this song for Babboo last week, but I can’t stop listening to it myself. Mostly because I’m trying to figure it all out. I thought about making a spreadsheet to make sense of it all.

I think I’ve got it. So the guy married an older lady who had a grown daughter. Then the grown (step) daughter marries the guy’s Dad. Which makes his son his (step) son-in-law. Then his Dad and his (step) daughter have a baby. And since it’s his wife’s daughter’s kid, that kid is his (step) grandchild. Wait, so how is he is own grandpa?

Crap, I don’t get it. I really do need to make a spreadsheet.

So there you have it. My 7 songs that I’m super in to this week. As for the 7 people to tag, well if you want to do it, great. And make sure you tell me you are doing it. Because I still have like 4 free downloads left and am itching to use them!

Oh, and here are the promised pics of my Sweet Babboo:

Yes ma, that is cookie* on my face. Give me more. Damn it.

He’s sleeping through the night. If this is what it takes to make it happen, well then, I’m all for it.

*by cookie, I totally mean cracker.

Its almost my birthday. I don’t really buy into the whole birthday thing. I’m not big on parties, or gift mongering, or people making a big deal out of my birthday. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. I like gifts. And I like parties. But I’ve never really been a fan of birthday stuff.

(Although I will say that a few years ago Isabel threw me a surprise birthday party and it was awesome.)

So on the eve of my 35th birthday I find myself sitting at the local stadium watching none other than the great roosterhead himself, Rod Stewart perform several decades worth of what 14,000 people would consider “hits”. “Hits” successful enough to warrant a $50 a pop ticket.

This isn’t something I would usually do. In fact, there are several somethings here that I wouldn’t usually do. One, go to see Rod Stewart. Two, go alone to a concert as a guest of a client. Three, do anything with a client outside of work. Four, talk to people. But last night I put on the velvet sportcoat, and walked myself into a suite full of strangers for a hell of a performance.

I sat through the first half of Rod’s show, and I’ll be honest here, I was impressed. In the 2 hours that I was there, he changed clothes 5 times and belted out 2 dozen songs, most of which I didn’t know, but didn’t care because he was doing such a good job as a performer.

I had plenty of time to think about stuff, which I don’t usually afford myself the luxury of doing. I realized that I should have made the decision early on to become a rockstar. That was really my calling and I think my lack of musical talent and shyness as a youth stifled my chances at greatness. More importantly, I realized that after 35 years of life, I’m finally comfortable. Comfortable with myself. I walked into a room full of strangers with a huge zit on my face and had a great time. I can talk to anyone. I navigate my way through life with complete confidence. This is something I never felt like I had, ever. It may be why I never liked birthdays. I’m not sure why now I feel differently, but I do. Too bad it took this long to figure it out.

Maybe I’ll learn to play the piano this year and start that career as a lounge singer like I should have done long ago.

I know you’re sick of hearing about how Babboo isn’t sleeping at night. Believe you me; I’m sick of it to. Oh yes, we are sick of it at our house.

All of you were so awesome and have us tons of ideas to try to help the kid sleep through the night. They were all great suggestions, but the truth of the matter is that we share a room with the kid. So none of them would work. Especially the best idea of letting him cry it out. You suggested it to us with the promise of a few bad nights followed by glorious all night sleeping.

Which sounds oh so glorious.

The King and I weren’t too sure how letting Babboo cry it out would work. Do we put him in a pack and play in the kitchen? Do we move his crib into our front room, thus making it impossible for us to watch TV in the evenings? And also forcing us to go to bed at like 8:00. Yeah, none of those sounded like good ideas.

Fast forward to last Monday morning. 3:00 AM to be exact. Babboo wakes up. The King freaks out because of the fact that we haven’t had a good nights sleep in…well, in way too damn long. He decided right then and there that he and I are sleeping in the front room and Babboo is going to cry it out.

We grabbed our pillows and abandoned the kid. He cried. We checked on him in 3 minutes. He cried. We checked on him in 5 minutes. He cried. We checked on him in 10 minutes. He cried. We checked on him in 15 minutes. He was still crying. We checked on him in 18 minutes, and The King rubbed his back a little. He calmed down and went to sleep.

Glorious sleep.

The next night, we made our beds in the front room. Me on the couch and The King on the floor. Not so glorious, but we had a plan. And the plan was in motion.

Unfortunately the only blankets we have that aren’t in storage are Babboo’s blankets. The King and I were both freezing. But again, we had a plan.

Babboo slept through the entire second night. He woke up for his 5:00 AM feeding, but that’s fine. I have to nurse him before I get ready for work. So yeah, slept through the night.

The King was happy. He was all; it worked. Now we can move back to our bed! I laughed at him for thinking that it was only going to take that one night of crying out. I informed him that he had a few more nights of sleeping on the front room floor.

The third night was the same as the first. Cry, check, cry, check, cry. Eventually he did fall asleep, but at that point The King and I were wide awake, thus still not getting enough sleep. Plus I let The King have the couch that night, so I was rocking the hard floor. And rocking a bad back the next day.

Last night, the fourth night, was the same. Cry, cry, cry. But he didn’t cry as long. I think I only checked on him 2 times. Although, he woke up more times, he was able to go back to sleep.

You guys are the experts, are we getting close? Is he almost trained to sleep through the night? Are we doing something wrong?

And most importantly….

Will we ever get to sleep in our bed again?

Or is us sleeping in the front room just a sacrifice for this: