The onE where I take the quiz and my head explodes!* (Thanks for the catch!)
January 12, 2008
What have I my entire family and I been spending hours doing? Yes, HOURS. Putting in the hard wood floors we have been putting off since before the holidays? Nah. Laying new carpet in the hallways that I was oh-so-eager to finally get? Of course not.
We have been “doing” this “Impossible Quiz” which came from the very depths of the pits of Hades.
I would like to thank Busy Mom for sending me this way seeing as I had nothing better to do and did not follow her advise for my New Year’s Resolution. She owes me a bit of pain. Consider this payment in full, my friend.
If your ears bled on Friday, I apologize on behalf of my daughter and her SQUEALS.
January 5, 2008
Last night, my daughter had her first sleep over with her best friend here at our home. I have been used to boys. Loud. Stinky. Rough housing boys. I have been trained to barely look up from what I am doing to bellow out a “Not so rough, boys!” or “Don’t play ball in the house!” (Yes, I do quote Carol Brady from time to time. And you?) I know that they will be loud and rough. Breakables are relocated etc. Food fully stocked, restocked and stashed because boys? They eat. A lot.
But this girl thing? Totally different.
There were movies with boys who “are so cute” and I was asked to “watch us sing and dance.” Performances. My brain could not compute this strange new world. I never had to bellow “Not so rough!” There was not a time where I came into the room and quivered in fear and shuddered over the strange and horrible aroma that permeated the room.
But there is something you moms did not warm me about. (I know. I never told you there would be a sleep over or you might have.)
The SQUEALS. (Totally deserves all caps.)
I know girls squeal. It isn’t like my daughter is growing up in a bubble. She has friends over and they squeal. But at night? When they are tired? They SQUEAL. At one point I am sure there were dogs in Kenya crying over the pitch emitted. Now I understand the constant “request” of my parents to stop squealing. (My ears will stop bleeding soon.)
However, there was another amazing thing about having a girl sleep over. I can play. They want me to actually be there with them. I am not Mooooooom! I am Mom! I loved this strange new world of a girl sleep over. I just wish we had pulled out the clips and nail polish and gone all out.
But I think I am saving that for next time.
This girl thing? So far, not so bad having a daughter. I think I am going to keep her.
Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)
October 27, 2005
Sometimes you must resort to random information rather than make quite a few separate snore-worthy entries. Instead, here is one Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)
~~~~~
I have been told for the past three months how well I have been handling everything with my Mom and my Dad. I have been asked how I am holding it all together. My standard reply is usually Just wait. It is when the calm comes that I lose it. The fun has yet to begin! I am rarely believed because I look so “together”. Last night I spent most of the evening making sarcastic remarks, whining or just being bitchy. When Clint mistakenly asked what was wrong, well, let’s just say I gave him an earful. A few minutes later as I was watching TV, I went to brush my hair of my shoulder when my ring snagged on my necklace and broke it.
Oh for the love of all things emotionally irrational, I lost it. Lost. It. I began to sob uncontrollably muttering how ironic it is that it was my Mom’s ring that broke my necklace and broke me down and is making me cry and ohhh how could life be so unfair as to break my necklace. It just isn’t fair that my necklace broke. Why is this happening? Why did I have to lose my necklace?? What have I done to deserve to suffer through a BROKEN NECKLACE?!
(Does anyone think perhaps I was suffering through a case of transference? Nah!)
~~~~~
Today I decided to work on the mood a bit. I dressed up in something other than warm-ups and a ratty t-shirt. I put makeup on and curled my hair even. When my loving husband got home he was so kind as to compliment me.
Clint: You look nice today. Make-up and everything.”
Me: Today I decided to go by the old standby of “If you look good, you will feel good.”
Clint: How’s that working for you?
Me: *sob sob uncontrollable sobbing*
Clint: So not so well, huh.
~~~~~
With so much work to do, I knew that spending all day entertaining Gabrie was not going to be productive. I did the only rational thing of a stressed out woman: I invited her best friend over. They keep each other entertained so that I can work. In fact, I have been entertained as well. Here are just a few reasons why I absolutely love these girls together.
Gabrie: Why did your horse just kiss my horse?
Friend: Because that’s what horses do when they get their lovin’ on.
After choking with laughter and snorting my Diet Coke out of my nose, I asked her what she meant. I finally got to the point where what she meant to say was was “when they are in love”, but it was SO MUCH funnier as “get their lovin’ on”!
~~
While driving with the girls on errands, Joe Nichols song “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” came on the radio. The next thing I hear is LOUD singing from the backseat.
Friend: “Maquita makes her clothes fall offffff!”
Gabrie: “Not maquita! TEQUILA makes her clothes fall off. Tequila. Right, Mommy?”
Me: “Absolutely, sweetie.”
I am SO not winning mother of the year this year.
And that, my friends, concludes my Big Entry of Random Randomness (now exploiting friends of my children!)
Clint has finally become brave enough to take me back to Fry’s. Although I do think he was questioning the brilliance of the move when I started to giggle and clap my hands before we ever pulled into the parking lot. I began to rapidly map out our path in the store.
“First let’s go check out the laptops and then the cameras and then… then… then we can go look at the MP3 players. Do you think they have any good deals on hard-drives? OHHHHHHH! Can I get inside the washers and dryers again? Can I? CAN I?”
You could totally see his eyes glaze over. As we walked into the store, I broke free of him and raced from aisle to aisle fondling, rubbing and licking the electronics. I finally met back up with him as he was comparing earphones to buy for Brandon’s computer.
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, just rubbing my breasts on the plasma televisions.”
“Okay. Did you find the pen you were looking for?”
“THE PENS! I FORGOT about the pens!” As I raced to the aisle full of glorious pens! (And I only bought one.)
After being there for barely any time at all (though Clint says it was well over an hour), we had to leave. He literally had to pry my fingers off of the shiny, clickalicious laptops to check out.
As we were leaving, he looked at me and said with complete exasperation, “WHEN did YOU become a GEEK?!”
The moral of the story: Be careful what you wish for. Your spouse just may go geek on you.
Yeah, there will probably be a bit of a lag in entries, but ohhhh how fun they will be when they show up. Eighteen people. One house. We have a wedding planned a birthday party and lots of drunken hooting and screaming from the beach.
I am going to share a little trick with you, my faithful readers. A trick that you can use in your bedroom. It is guaranteed to leave your mate speechless. (Although it is not just for the bedroom. You can use this little trick anywhere you want.)
Ready? Okay, here is what you need to do. Take an everyday drinking straw to bed with you. Wait! Come back. Trust me! I do however suggest you wait until you are both snuggled deep under the covers. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, so make sure your mate is not watching you. (Surprises in the bedroom can be a lot of fun!)
Do you have your straw? Good. Now take that everyday, regular drinking straw and place the longer end of the straw under your left arm pit. Position is everything here. (Actually, you can use your right pit, too. It is not pit dependent.)
Now, bend the shorter end up towards your mouth. Got it?
Now BLOW!
See! I guarantee your mate is looking at you and is totally speechless.
What?! I never said I was sharing with you a sexual trick, now did I?
[This entry brought to you by the Organization to Promote Immaturity in Marriage. Visit us at our homepage at…. oh, wait…we don’t have a webpage because we are too immature to get our act together enough to do that. But if we did, you better believe we would have some kick ass sound effects!]
The one where I am not so social, but can woo-woo dance with the best of them
April 10, 2005
Does it make me anti-social to go to the school’s family picnic and bring a magazine to read? Does it make me a bitch that I sat down my blanket, kicked off my shoes and started flipping through my magazine rather than going from person to person and making small talk? Does it mean that I will never have anything in common with the parents of the kids that go to school with my kids when I stare at them and have no clue in hell what to say to them to start up a conversation? For the love of all things social, I do believe I am an antisocial bitch. (Stop laughing those of you who already knew that!) I don’t really want to be that way. Really. But first my partner in crime moves away and then the one person I can count on to be as cynical and catty as I am decides not to go! (I don’t blame her. The party she did decide to go to had alcohol. I would so have ditched the kids for a party with adults and booze, too. I’m just saying…)
It’s not like I want to be the school bitch. I don’t. Not really. But after getting burned like I did last year, I am gun-shy. I did have a great conversation with one of the women on the board that I really admired when I went through the whole “PTA is from hell” incidents. And I had a great time talking to the parents of one of Z’s friends. So, it wasn’t all bad. And I didn’t have to sit off in the section marked for losers and PTA-banned-trouble-makers either.
Oh, and is it bad that I think a man who sings kids songs for a living is totally bordering on hot? I mean, I went to the concert at the school expecting Raffi and got Eddie? Yeah, I will totally do the Woo Woo Dance for Eddie when he asks.
Hmmm, maybe it is comments like that which cause me to get myself in trouble. Nah. Screw ‘em if they can’t take a joke. Excuse me while I go off and torment Brandon while singing the Woo Woo Dance song. I just love being a pain in the ass!
I went to a birthday party for a 4 year old this weekend. Whereas in some instances that could send me racing to lock myself in the bathroom and refuse to come out, this was a really great party for these kids. It was 100% geared towards them and their age group. It was at the local rec center. The kids had a ball.
Well, at one point they got out that giant parachute that kids love to play with. Well, I don’t think I am revealing anything shocking if I tell you that I am not the most mature mom in the world. (What?! Like you would be even half as entertained by me if I was mature.)
So, the kids start playing a game with the parachute and I got the giggles. Badly. The game is called (or at least I call it) Find the Monkey. Here’s what happens:
You choose a kid to sit in the middle of the parachute (on top of it) while all of the kids are holding onto the outside of the parachute. Then, you take a second child and tell him to crawl under the parachute. When the leader says GO!, the child under the parachute starts to crawl around in order to avoid the kid sitting on top of the parachute from finding him. All the while the rest of this group is frantically shaking the parachute with all of their God-given 4 year old might. Frantically. Complete chaos. While everyone is shouting “Find the monkey! Find the monkey!”
Now come on, that is some funny stuff. In and of itself is enough to make someone giggle. However, my twisted mind kicked into gear. All I could picture is this boy in 12-15 years waking up in a pool of sweat having hallucinogenic type flashbacks of all of these bright, vivid colors flashing wildly around his face while disembodied voices are shouting Find the Monkey! Find the Monkey!”
I lost it.
In the extended entry you will find a picture of it. Yes, it is blurry. That is totally not my fault. I was laughing too hard to hold the camera phone still.
Once there was this blonde. She used to look like this:
Then FALL BREAK happened to her. As we know, she got bored. When she got bored, she got restless. When she got restless, she got brave. When she got brave, she went RED!
And now we have:
And we also have this:
So, can you still love me as a red head? I am out to prove that blondes aren’t the only ones who have more fun! Who’s with me?
[Update: I was asked to take the photos out of the extended text. So, there they are right up in your face!]
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