My dad has skin cancer.

Over the past 10+ years, he’s had basal cell cancer, squamous cell cancer, and melanoma; the trifecta of skin cancer.

The last thing he’d ever want is your sympathies, so stop it.

He’s a ginger who’s spent nearly every un-working hour outside doing things like building massive projects like the gazebo over the lake where I was married. He’s a fair-skinned child of the 50′s who plays at least 4 rounds of golf a week.

His face, arms, back, and shoulders have been carved up removing the cancers, but with all of the other sunspots and freckles, it’s hard to see the scars.

My responsibility as a fair-skinned, spotted Anglo whose father has had all three types of skin cancer is to have my skin checked by a dermatologist at least once a year.

My daughters have the fair, freckled, spotted skin passed on from me and Patrick. Claire has been to a dermatologist twice in her young 6 years for unusual-looking moles. Both were “fine,” but we have to keep an eye on the moles and be diligent about applying sunscreen on her especially.

Better safe than sorry.

Skin cancer is exactly by what that idiom is defined.

I may have my own downfalls and setbacks and negative qualities, but I don’t mess around with getting skin checked.

I was that 16-year-old lifeguard laying out at the pool getting sunburns to “get a good base tan.”

There’s no such thing as a good tan. At all. Never.

That one bad sunburn I got on my legs when I was 16, the one that was so bad that I still remember the pain, doubles the chances that I’ll have melanoma. There are countless other sunburns I’ve had in the last 35 years that I don’t remember, but every one of those doubles my chances for melanoma.

It’s crazy-pants dangerous.

Please watch this video produced in Canada by the David Cornfield Melanoma Fund. It’s important.

Then promise me you’ll get your skin checked.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 5 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: dad, skin cancer, video

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In an Awesome twist of irony, it’s currently Be Nice on the Internet Week.

Surprisingly, this wasn’t a Hallmark-created holiday, but rather a movement started by Real Simple magazine. I may not use their redefined acronyms (W.T.F. = Why That’s Fabulous; F.U. = Friendly Uprising; M.Y.O.B. = Make Your Own Bliss), but I do like the idea behind their message.

As a superfan and superuser of snark, I appreciate dark humor and general LOLs, sometimes at the expense of others. Sometimes, but never with malice on purpose. I have this other blog, We Know Awesome, where I share funny, irreverent, and satirical things found on the interweb. There are times when I may have hurt the feelings of someone who may be the subject of a post, and I always always remove anything that I later learn is hurtful.

I’m far from a saint, though I have been shopping around for stylish schmatta to replace my brand-name clothes. I figure the more Mother Teresa-like I look, the easier it will be for my sainthood to be crowned. I do get a crown for being recognized as a saint, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?

By now you’re asking, “Where’s the irony, Pangie? Get to the point already.”

Yesterday, I received this not-so-nice email through the contact form on We Know Awesome:

I did the culprit a favor and fixed her* grammar. (*I assume "her" based on lady-instinct.)

We read about bullying and general meanness of folks on the internet. Sometimes we accidentally on purpose see the comments left on news articles and news blogs. But I rarely, if ever, see the hateful, anonymous emails sent to other people.

I’m breaking the tradition of hiding the hate.

I will show you the emails I receive that are sent anonymously or sent with a real name attached. If I know for certain who the person is sending a not-so-nice note, I’ll credit them for their words. I don’t want to be accused of stealing now, do I?

I know for 97% certainty the name and website of the person who sent the above email. But because I have that 3% doubt, I can’t put her name on it. I don’t know her personally, and I don’t believe we’ve met online or offline, but she sure as heck doesn’t like me.

Feeding the trolls is one thing; we don’t feed the trolls unless we’re feeling especially spunky.

Sending nearly-anonymous, hate-filled, baseless emails is not being nice. Like most women, I have a cunt, but calling me one is just silly-mean.

And wishing I get hit by a truck? I mean, really. Come up with something more creative next time you send someone like me a crazy-pants email. If you need other ideas on how to wish someone dead, watch a horror film or read the comments on a news blog. Those people have some original ways to wish people dead.

I wish to do favors for those in need of my help. Editing and fixing the grammar of the trolls and haters is my Tourette’s. Like Mother Teresa, I’m a giver. Except I don’t give to the poor; I give to the poorly educated.

Mother Teresa photo used with Creative Commons License

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 20 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: be nice on the internet week, cunty email, mother teresa, trolls

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I have a love for egg salad that is unmatched by any other mayonnaise-based salad.

It was recently discovered that I am not alone in my passion for a correctly prepared egg salad. While riding shotgun on our beach road trip this past weekend, I was involved in a lively Twitter discussion on the proper ingredients for making egg salad. Clearly, I am worried about major world issues.

The great and powerful Asian Invasion, Jim (aka Busy Dad), compiled a Twitter list with us egg salad lovers. But we are an exclusive club. At our core, we believe a proper egg salad is prepared WITHOUT celery.

Because celery in a mayo-based salad is the Devil’s work.

I’m sure the Beast that is Busy Dad will have his own high-tech, high-flare, highly-edited video post with his own egg salad recipe, but I’m super lazy and self-important, so I’m presenting my own quick and dirty egg salad preparation instructions.

Ingredients

2 peeled, hard-boiled eggs, straight off of the grocery store shelf
less than a tablespoon of KRAFT REAL MAYO
a healthy dose of plain yellow mustard squirts
1-1/2 spoonfuls of Mt. Olive sweet pickle relish with pickle juice
salt & fresh-ground pepper because you’re fancy

Chop the shit out of the hard-boiled eggs you bought and didn’t boil yourself. You deserve to buy your hard-boiled eggs because you have more important things to do on the internet today. If you’re fancy and have an egg slicer that makes perfect white and yellow egg squares, use it on those store-bought, hard-boiled peeled eggs.

Don’t even think about using any other mayonnaise than KRAFT REAL MAYO. Using any other brand will ruin your batch. And if you even THINK about using that Light or Fat Free shit, you’re no friend of mine. The other condiment brands you use is entirely your choice. Except if you have Hunt’s Ketchup in your fridge. I mean, really. Who the hell even buys Hunt’s Ketchup? No friend of mine.

Toss those chopped-as-shit boiled eggs into a bowl and stop to take a picture of your magic.

Add in less KRAFT REAL MAYO than I show here. I clearly used too much as you will see below from the photos of the final product.

P.S. Me saying I used too much mayo is something I thought would never ever never come out of my brain. BOOM. I admit my mistakes.

Squirt in your yellow mustard to taste. I likes me some vinegar, so I likes me a lot of mustard. Spoon in your 1-1/2 spoonfuls of undrained sweet relish. Don’t skimp on the sweet pickle juice. It’s not like you’re drinking it straight from the jar, because that would be disgusting. The sweet pickle juice is my secret ingredient. Top it off with your desired amount of heart -attack salt and fancy pepper.

NOTE: If you add in celery to this mix, stop reading this right the fuck now. You don’t deserve to see my words. You are dead to me. You are a travesty to mankind. I am disappointed in your life choices.

Spoon that mess onto your honey wheat bread. As you can see, it’s a runny mess of KRAFT REAL MAYO and boiled egg goodness.

Finally, NOM ON THAT BITCH LIKE IT’S YOUR LAST MEAL.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 25 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: egg salad recipe, kraft real mayo

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I don’t often brag about living in Florida. Except I’m lying. Going to the beach in December is pretty effing Awesome.

Just be glad I didn’t take a picture of the margarita I drank while the sun set over the Gulf.

I’m slightly jealous of everyone else’s cooler weather. And I’m definitely jealous of everyone else’s summer weather. But days like today are when I feel it’s appropriate to flaunt my state.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 3 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: anna, beach, claire, florida, gulf of mexico, nolan, paige, photos, sunset, tampa

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I kind of have the best job on the internet, where “job” means “self-created activities that may or may not pay actual significant money at some point.”

Getting to scour the internet looking for the most jaw-dropping images to share with you friends? Awesome.

This week I was tasked with finding the best tacky Christmas/ Hanukkah/ General Holiday decór available on the nets to post on Curvy Girl Guide.

I love my job.

You friends were kind enough to send me some of the best of the worst when I put out the all-call for ideas.

I love you, internet friends.

My friend, Casey, sent me some pictures (that he forced his boyfriend to pull over and take, possibly risking his life) of a house in his snowy neighborhood who goes WAY over the top in their front yard.

I mean. Seriously. One Santa just isn’t enough, apparently.

Rows and rows of Christmas.

These people are clearly high on candy cane fumes.

Check out the rest of the best tacky holiday decorations on Curvy Girl Guide! Because where else will you see a glittery merman ornament and an inflatable Santa using an outhouse?

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: curvy girl guide, gaudy holiday decor, tacky christmas decorations

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This holiday season, don’t forget your kid’s teachers. Not that I think you would. I’m just sayin.

Do you have any idea what your precious princess’s professor has to plan for a proper progressive period of primary (or secondary)?

A shit ton of planning.

I was a teacher in a past life. After going through the hell of undergraduate school and then submitting myself to the torture of graduate school, I taught for a whole 4 years in charter and public schools.

I stopped teaching for a reason: I was sorely underpaid for the amount of work required to make me a successful teacher. With all of my schooling and all of the support I received from my family, they paycheck I received did not equal the output required to make me a good teacher.

From excessive county requirements funneled down through my administration to provide in-detail reports not yet vetted by researchers to training standards far beyond what makes sense to the sensible mind, I couldn’t justify the time spent away from my family to get the job done.

There are people who can do it. There are teachers who are VERY good at what they do. Luckily, the teachers my girls have had so far are very good as far as I know. And really, isn’t 1/2 the job convincing the parents that their precious prince’s teacher is a qualified professional? 

Politics and my whining aside, don’t forget your kid’s teachers when you’re out buying every plastic, character-covered toy in Target. Show them some real love. They probably deserve it more than our bratty precious kids anyway.

One of the most important things I learned as a teacher for those few years is what to NOT give as gifts:

• Teachers DO NOT want a framed photo of our adorable child. If you give them a nice frame with a photo of your child, they will remove your photo and replace it with a photo of their own child or pet. If you give them a crappy fram of your child, they will throw the whole thing away.
• Teachers DO NOT want something your precious picked out from the Dollar Store. She’d rather have that dollar than the crap your kid settled on choosing.
• Teachers DO NOT want an apron appliquéd with “World’s Best Teacher.” If she is the kind of teacher who wears such an apron, she’ll have one already.
• Teachers DO NOT want a homemade coupon book of favors done by your kid. Save the construction paper and teach your kid to do nice things for his teacher all year long. His teacher doesn’t want to have to hand over a request for your prince to have “1 Whole Day Of Sitting In My Seat Without Being Asked!” He should be doing that already.
• Teachers DO NOT candles. No. More. Candles. NONE. Please. I speak for the 99% of teachers who don’t need more scented candles flaring up her allergies or stinking up her kitchen.

The #1 best gift to give your kids’ teachers? GIFT CARDS. You may think they’re impersonal, but no matter the amount of the gift card or to where it is spendable, the gift card is the perfect teacher gift. Couple the gift card with a handmade card by your kid, and she’ll love you forever.

They may even buy more books for their classroom for your kid to read so you don’t have to buy the damn book yourself as my kid’s teacher did this week. ::ahem::

Friends, you are welcome.

For more of my rantings on being a teacher and the US education system, my friend Joanne Bamberger, aka PunditMom, is sharing them on her new women’s collaborative political site, The Broad Side.

Teachers Have It Easy? Just Ask One.
This? Is Not OK: Teacher Pay Edition

What are you gifting your kids’ teachers? Do you have better ideas than mine? Probably.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 12 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: teacher gift ideas

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You know how sometimes when you see or read or smell something, it stays in your brain and sticks to everything else rolling around in there?

Like when some jergoff flips you the bird when you accidentally on purpose cut her off in traffic. Or when your new favorite TV show is cancelled, and it pisses you right the fruck off. Or when your kid asks why you have hair there, and you can’t think of an answer. Or the fart that lingers way beyond normal fart-lingering expiration.

That stuff doesn’t leave your brain for hours or even days.

We all do it. We all sit in miles and miles of traffic, only to reach the accident that’s caused he backup, complaining that “if everyone would just look away, there wouldn’t be this damn traffic,” but we look, too. We hope not to see someone dead on the side of the road, but we look anyway.

When I see a picture that freaks my freak, I can’t look away.

I hate pictures of bugs. I hate bugs. I hate thinking about bugs.

But Live with Kelly FREAKED MY FREAK this morning. No, it wasn’t the endearing Neil Patrick Harris magic trick that’s stuck in my head. How did he put the card name in a bruise on his arm? HOW? NPH is made of magic.

PeeEss: I’m thinking of replacing Anderson Cooper with NPH as my gay older brother slash BFF.

Kelly showed of a photo of a Giant Weta eating a full-sized carrot AND IT FREAKED MY EFFING FREAK:

Why would Baby Jeesus allow this creature to exist?

Why would someone with such well-manicured manhands hold one of these vile creatures in their well-manicured manhands?

WHY IS THIS GIANT BUG EATING AN EFFING CARROT?

I cannot unsee this photo. I’m never going to the far off land of New Zealand where the Giant Weta lives. I’m destined to have nightmares about a Giant Weta cuddling up next to me in bed.

OH, and I just learned this from Wikipedia. There are 11 different species of Giant Weta and they can reach a whole 20 centimeters.

I don’t know how long that is in real life measurements, but I’m assuming that means As Big As A Well-Manicured Manhand.

image credit unknown

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 3 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: giant weta

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One warm summer night in 2010…

More to come after this Friday’s date night seeing Breaking Dawn, Part 1.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 3 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: eclipse, edward, edward doll, jacob, jacob doll, movie, photo essay, twilight

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I’m kind of at the point of frustration with myself where I kind of want to cry.

But the beauty of having meds that keep you from crying is that I’m not crying. Score 1 for Zoloft!

This morning at my kid’s pediatric dentist appointment, I asked if they knew of any adult dentists in the area who used Nitrous for cleanings. I think they saw the desperation and jealous in my eyes, because the tech immediately sent an inner-office message to the front desk nurse to call another office asking on my behalf.

The tech did this while the dentist had a drill going into Anna’s tooth. While I watched it happen. I might have gotten a little woozy from seeing a drill making a hole in my kid’s tooth, or maybe some of the her Nitrous leaked out into the room.

I love the Nitrous.

But we learned from the front desk clerk that the other dentist’s office doesn’t use Nitrous for a routine cleaning. LAME.

Do you think my psychiatrist would write me a script for the dentist to give me Nitrous? [Rx: "Girlfriend is slightly crazy. Girlfriend needs a hit of Nitrous to get her teeth cleaned."] I’ve never had a cavity, and it’s been way too long since I’ve been to the dentist for a cleaning, partly because the stuff they do in my mouth skeeves me out.

I had a good blast of motivation earlier this morning thanks to the black magic of Vyvanse and its kick-in-my-pants.

The beauty of having those meds is that they keep me awake just long enough to not take a nap in the afternoon, but their kick-in-my-pants only lasts long enough to get one or two work-related things done.

So now is when that part of me needs to act like an adult bucks up and tries to act like an adult. I took the kid to the dentist early this morning, folded a load of laundry, and watched Real Housewives of Atlanta.

That should be enough for me to watch the 15 shows on my DVR and wait for school to end for the day. Since when did taking the kid to the dentist at 8am NOT fill all of the requirements of being an adult for the day?

And does anyone know where I can get an at-home tank of Nitrous?

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | One comment | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: dentist, nitrous

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Other than the memory I have of my first child exiting my body through my love canal after 39 weeks of gestation those 7+ years ago, which could have totally been put there by Leo DiCaprio and Joseph Gordon-Levitt during one of our sex dreams, I know this kid is mine.

Some say she looks just like the man everyone is told is her father, so we’ll go with that.

I know she’s mine because she worked her own “Cake vs. Pie vs. Brownie” questionnaire on me yesterday. After I convinced her that she would like the apple pie I was making her try, she confessed she loved it. Any kid of mine is destined to have a sweet tooth.

Unless her name is Claire and then she’ll just look exactly like me but have completely opposite tastes in everything, including food.

But if her name is Anna, she’ll drool at the mention of chocolate and eat every last bite of dessert put in front of her.

My child.

Anna: “Mama, which would you choose: a brownie or apple pie?”

Me, simultaneously falling deeper in love with my child while debating the choice: “Oh wow. That’s pretty much the toughest question anyone has ever asked me. Is it a fresh brownie and who made the apple pie?”

Anna: “A warm fresh brownie with fudge on the top, fudge in the middle. OR, warm apple pie?”

Me: “You’re killing me, kid. Is there ice cream on top?”

Anna: “OF COURSE!”

Me: “I give up. This is the Sophie’s Choice of desserts.”

I guess I need to get us this pie shirt so we match.

Pie, Right?

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 7 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: anna, cake vs. pie, pie vs. brownies, shirt

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