Kamilli Vanilli

Sore Loser

2012-02-09T10:46:00.000-08:00

You may recall this post of yesteryear regarding my plague with herpes--as in cold sores--not the other kind of herpes.

It so happens that I was on my online medical chart the other day, emailing my doctor regarding an antibiotic prescription, when I decided to look at my medical history for fun (Yes, for fun!) and noticed that my medical history says that I have a history of......wait for it.....

Genital herpes.

Ummmm...... NO.

Anyone who knows me knows this could NOT be the case. Well, I guess there's no way that anyone could KNOW this is not the case...but people know me well enough to know that I am a pure, virtuous, monogamous saint of a woman. As is Hamburglar. Wait, that doesn't sound right... Well, you know what I mean.

As was the case with the biology teacher I mistakenly told I had herpes...I don't know what it is with this herpes thing that seems to erroneously follow me wherever I go. So, in talking with a woman who works for my clinic yesterday at Wonderella's basketball practice, I asked her how one could go about changing or correcting their medical record. And....long story short....I totally told her about the herpes thing. I didn't feel weird about it at the time...but now I kind of am. I am thinking I either totally could have offended her by acting like herpes down there means you're a horrible, disgusting human being. Which may or may not be what I think. But looking back, it was a really awkward conversation. I either totally offended her....OR.....she totally thinks I have genital herpes.

Ahhh...this is what I get for talking to other moms at practice. If I would have just kept to myself, like I usually do, none of this would have happened. Now watch....before I know it, all the moms on the team will know that I have genital herpes on my medical chart. I will be the mom whore on the team. Every team's got one. You know it's true. And this time, it's gonna be me.... Well, me and that other woman....

Facebook Foes

2012-02-07T09:27:00.000-08:00

Ah, the facebook fight.

It's one of the finer pleasures of life, really. Nothing like logging onto facebook....reading some random stranger's idiotic comment, replying to it, and then--63 back-and-forth comments later--knowing that you did your little part to change the world for the better.

I've had my share of facebook fights. I know this must come as a surprise to you. In fact, I just got in one today.

Ok, so I have opinions. A lot of them. There really are very few things I don't have an opinion on. Even on things I don't really care about--I'll pretend to care about them--just so I can have an opinion. And I don't mind sharing my opinion. In fact, at times, I feel absolutely compelled to share my opinions.

Probably the glory days of my facebook fighting was back during the heat of the recent healthcare debate. I'd read people's completely ignorant views and--due to the incredible gravity of the potential effects of the healthcare bill on our country--I would comment. I was polite, never rude, and always right.

I would even get private messages sent to me from random strangers thanking me for sharing my opinions...which gave me the courage to continue to tell the world off on facebook as much as I could. Spreading truth to one ignoramus at a time. That's what I do.

A few months ago, during the peak of the Occupy Wall St nonsense, I got into a facebook fight with a self-avowed libertarian socialist/Christian anarchist. Don't ask me how those 4 philosophies jive together. However they merged--they resulted in this individual. He was civil enough--and he had obviously spent a large amount of time thinking and reading on the issue of capitalism vs socialism. But he was so very wrong. So very, very wrong. And I had to tell him. I had to, people. I had to.

Just recently, a friend of mine on facebook wrote something that I found very offensive and incredibly inaccurate. I wanted to say something. In the course of the rest of the day, I crafted a whole response in my head. It was civil. It was nice. And it corrected the inaccuracy of what he had said.

But then that little voice in the back of my head told me..."Step away from the computer, Kamilli. Don't do it. It's not worth it." So I didn't. I decided this man and his friends could continue in their ignorance. I wasn't going to change his mind. I'd probably just lose a friend. Not that I'll ever see him again in this lifetime anyways. But that's not the point... Sometimes it's just better to bite your tongue and not say anything. It depends on who you're dealing with and what the topic is. There are definitely some things worth defending. And people worth defending them to. This just wasn't one of those times.

So, as someone who's gone the rounds a time or two on facebook, I offer these rules of thumb (or more accurately, these rules of the middle finger):

1) As a general rule, don't pick facebook fights with your facebook friends. Only friends of your facebook friends. They don't know who you are. So you don't get left picking up the pieces. You can walk away, dust your hands off, and let your friend deal with the aftermath.

2) If you can, find out what city the person you're about to pick a fight with is from. If they live within 200 miles--driving distance to come and beat you up or stalk you-then it's probably not a good idea.

3) Make sure your profile and personal info is private. You don't want anyone to think that you speak for your religion, your alma mater, your employer, etc.

4) Know your stuff. Nothing worse than picking a facebook fight, and then having a highly reliable and respected wikipedia link thrown in your face to rebut everything you just said.

4) Don't be facebook friends with people who are idiots. This one's a no-brainer. If you know someone that is just stupid--or who has polar opposite views as you do, and isn't afraid to share them--then just don't befriend them on facebook. Or at least "hide" them so you don't have to read their trash every day. Heaven knows there's enough of that on facebook anyways. There are some people in my life that I just know I can't handle on facebook. I can't deal with them. So I'm not facebook friends with them. There's no rule that says just because you know someone--or are even friends with them in real life--you have to befriend them on facebook. Yet, somehow...some people think you do. Probably mostly the people with some quest to achieve 2,000 'friends' on facebook.

Which leads me to wonder: how many people have "hid" me on facebook? Hmmm. Oh well. I'm over it.

5) Be civil and polite. Even if the person is an obvious jerk. I think facebook and other social media have changed the discourse in America...and not necessarily for the better. People feel they can say things online that they'd probably never say to someone in person. I guess that could be a good thing--ideas can be shared freely without fear of immediate repercussion....but I think it has decreased the civility that one would normally try to use in person (for fear of getting pummeled). Name-calling and insults just aren't productive and only make you look like the idiot.

Though, I must admit, they sometimes feel really good to say.

Pray tell...Have you had some facebook fights??

(Lost in) Space Derby

2012-01-30T14:58:00.000-08:00

So Friday was another Cub Scout Derby. You may recall our Pinewood Derby of yesteryear. It was disastrous, to say the least. This year, rather than a pinewood derby, it was a space derby. I had no idea such a thing existed. But it does. Oh, it does.

Rather than making a car, you make a shuttle that is attached to a line and propelled by wound rubber bands. Perfect, right?! No wheels to lubricate! No weight restrictions! Just a few rubber bands! Easy peasy. What could possibly go wrong?!

Everything. That's what could go wrong.

Again, the night ended in tears. Again, VidKid's creation was one of the slowest in the bunch--not even making it to the end of the line on most races. Again, I cast looks of bewilderment at Hamburglar wondering how he could let VidKid down--me down---again. Where's the family pride? He is destroying the family name! Hamburglar's a handy guy. He's good with tools. He can create and do handyman stuff around the house. What is this derby curse that follows us?

I joke with one of my Sarah friends that her hobby is winning. She likes to win in her free time. I'd really like to make that my hobby too. How do I make winning my new hobby when my kid keeps losing?!

I guess I will take some comfort in knowing that VidKid's shuttle wasn't THE slowest in the bunch. So we moved up a spot in the Cub Scout derby rankings. Up from last place to second-to-last place. So we've got that going for us. At this rate, we'll be right in the middle of the pack--celebrating mediocrity at its finest by the time he's 11 and ready to leave Cub Scouts.

Granted, VidKid obviously needs to gain some perspective and learn to have better sportsmanship. But obviously his father needs to take a class or something. Do they offer such a thing? Maybe I just need to take over this whole derby thing. Cuz it sure as aitch can't get any worse.

Debate Bloomers

2012-01-27T09:47:00.001-08:00

Whose 9 and 11 year old kids, when flipping through the channels, get excited when they see a Presidential Debate is on? Whose kids, sit in front of the TV, totally absorbed, listening to presidential candidates talk about the Federal Reserve, capital gains taxes, and healthcare reform? Whose kids cheer when one of their preferred candidates lands a punch in the debates?

My kids, that's who.

I'm so proud. (wiping tear from my eye.)

At least I was proud, until last night, while eating dinner with the debate on in the background, the debate discussion turned to taxing the rich. VidKid looked up, and said "Taxing the rich? What's so wrong with taxing the rich more?"

Somewhat taken aback, I raised my eyebrows at him, pausing....trying to figure out how to explain this to him. And then, VidKid looked at me, realizing his error, and said "Oh, yeah....sorry... I just forgot. I just forgot for a second. The rich give us jobs."

Atta kid.

That's right. The indoctrination starts very early in this house.

Thought Rot

2012-01-06T09:26:00.000-08:00

Why hello there.

Happy New Year!

Whatever that's supposed to mean. New Year's. So overrated.

I could go into a lengthy story of why I have been M.I.A. on this blog for the last 2 1/2 months. But you don't care. And I don't want to talk about it. And I don't need to tell you how busy the last few months of the year can be for everyone. So we'll just leave it at that!

The important thing is I'm back. And I hope you are too. Cuz "whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it....I just want you back for good. (want you back) (want you back) I want you back for good..." Sorry. My apologies. I have a habit of spontaneously bursting into song. It's a problem.

So, here's what I'm thinking about....

1. I bribed VidKid into not having a birthday party this year. I offered him 50 bucks and a trip to the movies if he'd not have a party. I let him make his choice....I told him I'd be more than happy to have a party if that is what he really wanted....but I also told him I'd let him keep the 50 bucks I would've spent on the party if he chose not to have one. Surprisingly, he chose the 50 bucks. I feel kind of bad. But then...I don't. I feel like a big winner too.

Sadly, I kind of did the same thing with Big Red. His birthday was at the beginning of December, and he wanted to have a party. Problem was....I couldn't think of one person to invite. Sadly, Big Red doesn't have a lot of friends. It makes me very sad. Sure, we could have invited his whole kindergarten class, but I didn't want to do that. It was going to be a Star Wars party...not for girls. And, quite frankly, I don't like it when my kid gets invited to the mass parties. Mostly, because I can't tell if they really want my kid to be there, or if they invited him/her to be there because they had to invite the whole class. Plus, call me overprotective, but I won't just drop my 6 year old kid off at some random person's house who I don't know. I don't know any of the kids/parents in Big Red's class. Well, I know two. But not enough of them to have a party.

So....I did what any good parent would do. I bribed him. With a family party to Chuck E. Cheese. Sure, the boys came home with some nasty stomach virus--complete with vomiting and the runs--but it was totally worth it . Poor Big Red. Maybe next year he'll have some friends. It would help if he was nicer. We're working on that.

Wonderella's birthday was also at the beginning of December, but it wasn't her year for a friend party, so didn't have to do that. So, December came and went and I didn't have to have one birthday party! Yee Haw!

I did host a Christmas party, however. You know...for me... and my friends. So don't think I got off totally scot-free.

I'm a horrible mother, aren't I?

2. Last night, Hamburglar signed both of us up to run in the Seattle Rock n' Roll Marathon. A half-marathon, of course. Hamburglar ran a full one last year, but he wants to join me on a half. Now, some of you may be thinking...."I didn't know that Kamilli was a runner!" Yeah... cuz I'm not. I hate running. Almost as much as I dislike looking at Michelle Obama. I hate it. It's not fun. With the exception of this picture.... I like this one.
But back to running. It hurts. I ran a 5k a few years ago, and my knees and hips ached for WEEKS. Take a look at runners you see on the street. Do any of them look happy? Are any of them smiling? The answer to that is a resounding NO!! So why in the AITCH would I want to go and pay 100 dollars to spend 2 hours running on a public road in agony and misery? Why, oh why, indeed.

Somehow, I've been duped into thinking that this is going to be something I need to do. So let the training begin. If nothing else, perhaps I will get in better shape and lose a few pounds....you know....so Big Red doesn't have to come up to me and say "I know you're pregnant, Mom....cuz you have a big belly....." Yeah. Nice.

3. Are we all fired up for election year??? Can you feel the excitement and the electricity in the air?? Can you???? Can you????

Yeah, me neither. Just not feeling the love right now. All I'm feeling is the loathing. No love...just loathing. Loathing for Obama and the incredible mess he is making of this country. Loathing for his complete disregard for the Constitution (Consumer Protection guy, anybody?). Loathing for his taxpayer-funded multi-million-dollar vacations. Loathing for his petty political games. Loathing for his socialist/Marxist policies. Loathing for pretty much everything about this administration.

We have to boot his butt to the curb, people. We HAVE to. If we don't, we are royally screwed. So whoever can beat him--THAT is who we need to elect. I don't know who that person is. But that is the person we need. I am not going to be ideological about this. I will be pragmatic. Not one of these politicians is someone who I completely agree with. But any one of them would be better than what we have. So whoever can beat--scratch that--whoever can CRUSH him, is who I will be voting for.

The problem is....can any of them do that?

I'll have more to say on this in the coming weeks/months....

And while I'm on politics, I need one more rant....I am tired of the hypocrisy on the left. Tired of their claims for "tolerance" all while they're spewing bigotry. Apparently, it's OK for them to be bigots...just not those of us on the right. Of course, they don't see themselves as intolerant...you know...cuz they're so enlightened and all. Whatever. I'm done taking it. I'm done smiling and biting my tongue. I will be respectfully and calmly calling people out on it from here on out.

4. I have been working with some other people in the community to build a select girls' high school feeder basketball program in my town. Tryouts are next week. I have put a lot of time/effort into this project, and I sure hope it works out. One of my biggest fears is that I'll get it up and going and Wonderella won't even make the team. Wouldn't that be awesome? hahaha... haha. ... ha. Sigh....

Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?

2011-10-24T10:19:00.000-07:00

So, if you're like me, you're probably sick of hearing all about the "Mormons aren't Christians" stuff that has been all over the news lately.

It's old. And tiring. And absolutely has no place in politics.

But, unfortunately, it's here. And it's out there. And it saddens me to know that there are people so ignorant and bigoted and biased that they would refuse someone an opportunity (not just for President--but for anything) because they are a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
No one likes to hear the things that they hold dearest to them distorted and demeaned and twisted into a pile of poopy gobbledygook. So many of the things I have read and heard people say about my faith are completely false.   There is so much hate coming from people who profess to follow the most perfect example of love the world has ever known.

I recently saw a video of Mitt Romney at some campaign event extend his hand to a man, who responded by telling him he would never vote for a Mormon. Mitt Romney replied by saying "Well, can I shake your hand anyway?" The crotchety old man replied vehemently "NO!"

This man is a bigot. It was ridiculous. To this man, and to others who say they will never vote for a Mormon, my question is this:

What are you so afraid of?

Are you afraid you'll have a President who might encourage you to love and be faithful to your spouse? To spend more time with your family? To get out and serve and volunteer in your community and to get to know and be kind to your neighbors? A President who believes in honesty and personal responsibility and accountability?  Someone who encourages you to get out of debt and to live within your means, and to prepare for the future? Someone who asks you to give freely to charity?  And even more, that you might get a President who doesn't just spout off about these things, but someone who actually lives them?

Can you even imagine? Scary, right?! Oh, the horror of it all!

Oh, us scary Mormons! So our doctrine is a little different than yours. Our values aren't. Our standards aren't. Our love of this country is the same as yours. Our desire to be good and to do good is the same.

And guess what? Our love for Jesus is too.

True, some of our beliefs about Him may be different (ie., that He is a separate and distinct being from God the Father and from the Holy Ghost), but where it really matters--we believe the same.  The only way to salvation is through Jesus Christ.  To quote one of my favorite scriptures from that apparently scary book, The Book of Mormon, "And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins." But you're going to try and tell me I'm not Christian. Ummmm...since when did you get to decide who is and is not considered a "Christian?" Really?

I've heard people say they won't vote for a Mormon because they're concerned that the President would take direction from Mormon church leaders instead of doing just what is best for the country. Ummmm.....have you seen Harry Reid? I'm embarassed to admit it, but he's a Mormon.  He's a liberal Democrat with some polar opposite positions from fellow Mormon Mitt Romney. So I think it's safe to say neither one of them are taking orders from the "powers that be" in Salt Lake City.

A large source of anti-Mormonism comes from evangelicals. To them, I would say, you are picking a fight with the wrong people. We're on the same side here. We want so many of the same things. We all believe in life and in families and in doing good to others. Why, when religion and faith is being attacked on all sides by so much evil and darkness, are you choosing to bring us down, when all that we have ever tried to stand for is goodness? Don't you think there's a bigger enemy out there waiting for us? Don't you think we should stick together?   Or do you just get to pick and choose when we're useful to you? (Think California.)

I love my faith. Does it have some quirky doctrines and practices? Sure. Perhaps, on the surface, it may appear so.   But let's be honest. Don't all religions?  My church has taught me who I am, and what I am here on earth to do.  Hint: It's not to take over the country and the world, which is apparently what some people think! It has taught me that I am a daughter of God with the challenge to choose goodness and obedience in this life. To rear a family to do the same. To come unto Christ, to follow His perfect example, to enjoy this journey, and to help and do good to others along the way. If that is a threat to you, well, then.....I'm sorry that you are so pathetic.

So, again, I ask.

A Mormon President. What are you so afraid of?

What the Aitch?! Wednesday

2011-10-05T13:17:00.000-07:00

1. 'Tis the season for Halloween costumes. I have already told you that my kids want to be Smurfs. Well, at least this week they do. Big Red changes his mind about every hour, so we'll see where he eventually lands. He's somewhere between being Jokey Smurf, Brainy Smurf, a S.W.A.T. officer, General Grievous, Jango Fett, and a ninja. It's good to know that he has a wide range of interests. And I do find comfort in knowing there are a couple "good guys" in that group of possibilities. In general, Big Red always wants to be the bad guy. When he pretend-plays Star Wars, he always has to be a bad guy. He has no interest in being a good guy. He's all about the dark side of the force. Should I be worried?

One of my kids' favorite things to do is peruse the costume ad magazines that come in the mail from the party stores. They like to look, get ideas, and receive confirmation and validation that their homemade costumes are better than any of the store-bought ones they could find in there. At least that's what I tell myself. So, I was taking a gander at one this morning, and oh my goodness! It's like soft porn. The whole Adult Female section should just be re-titled "Stripper Costumes."

The names of the costumes alone are bad enough!
Pocahottie
Babe-a-lonian
Lust in Space
Tackle Me
Dirty Cop
All Star Hottie

I provide evidence here:
Pocahottie:

Babe-a-lonian

Tackle Me

Dirty Cop

And check this one out! It lights up and glows below the waist! Fantastic!

This is just a small sampling! There are others that are much worse, but I kept those off to protect all of y'alls innocence and such. And if these weren't bad enough, they also take many pure, wholesome characters from various Disney movies, etc., and turn them into trampy whores! There is no such thing as a skirt that even hits mid-thigh. And that goes for all the teen and girl costumes too! Makes me sick! Everything is so sexualized! I am so glad that my daughter was looking at these costumes! Geesh!

2. I have a lone fly in my house. He's my pet. He likes to fly around and hang out with the fam. I can't seem to get rid of him. He's this elusive wonder that appears out of nowhere and you can never quite keep up with him.

3. We had family pictures taken on Saturday. I had the whole pre-picture-taking routine set. I was going to make this a family portrait to remember. We would all get ready with time to spare, and glide into our car and head out, listening to The Carpenters, with smiles on our faces, loving each other more than ever.

Yeah.

Not so much.

It was a nightmare. I should have known better. It doesn't matter how ready you think you are, or how much time you leave yourself to get ready for these sorts of things, it's never enough. The kids were crying about this or that. Wonderella didn't like her hair. Big Red didn't like his shirt. Or his pants. Wee One didn't like anything. And I was freaking out. We finally get into the van, where I had hung all of our freshy-pressed shirts, and I found them on the floor. I lost my mind. I gave a stern rebuke to my children, not knowing that the neighbors were right outside and probably heard the whole thing. Whatever. And as we drove away, I told Hamburglar that we were never taking family pictures again. Ever. Right then and there I decided we were most certainly done having kids, because I didn't ever want to take pictures again. I hate it.

So when we got there, we all had to pretend we liked each other after the hell I raised getting there. Kind of defeated the purpose.

To top it all off, the weather was crappy. Our session was on a local beach, and instead of some nice blue skies, we had gray, cloudy, rainy skies. Sigh.... Oh well. I guess it's more realistic of the weather around here anyways. It's too bad because it had been nice weather leading up to it. Sigh again.

4. Low-flow toilets are the worst. The worst, I tell you! Our new home has them, and I hate them. Nothing flushes. Nothing, people. How horrible is it when a guest comes over, and you have to warn them that if they are going to flush anything "more substantial," then they need to hold down the handle and not release it until you've seen the "substantial material" go down? How fantastic is that? Let me tell you. It's mighty fantastic. I'm so glad I can do my part to save the whales. In the meantime, I'm keeping the plunger-makers in business. And on the subject of plungers....is there anything more gross? Seriously? What are you supposed to do with those things when you're done with them? I just want to take them into the backyard and hose them down for 20 minutes. I would love it if they would make disposable plungers. I'd be all over them. They'd be worth every penny.

5. Football parents are crazy. Cray. Zee. That is all I can say. But I am anxiously looking forward to the end of the season. We only have about 6 weeks left. Only.

I still play the anti-social snob at the far end of the sidelines. It's really not that I am anti-social, but when you have three other kids that are wreaking havoc and getting into everything, you kind of just want and need your own space. My kids are kind of embarassing. And I mean that in the most loving way possible, of course.

Totally 80s Tuesday!

2011-10-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

Oh, the 80s. How I miss thee.

Life was simpler then. Sure, we had Soviet Communists breathing down our necks, and Boy George singing about chameleons, but life was good.

As a baby gift for Wee One, I received this shirt:

Of course, you should all know what movie this line comes from. If not, then I would ask you why you are here reading this blog at all. Please leave.

Of course, the movie is Dirty Dancing. I remember when this movie came out. I specifically remember a girl in my class telling me she had gone to see it. I was somewhat apalled at this, because it didn't seem like an appropriate show for a girl our age. (Yes, even then, my sense of moral superiority and condescension was very fine-tuned). I asked her how the movie was. She replied, "It was dirty." But she said it in a way that let me know that yes, it was dirty... and she liked it that way, quite frankly. After that, I thought that this movie must be from the dark side and I don't think I watched it until it came out on VHS a year or so later. And I probably watched it under duress or peer pressure. But, of course, I loved it.

Speaking of watching dark movies under duress....as a teenager, one time I was at a party and they decided to watch "The Exorcist." I didn't want to watch it. I'm a wuss when it comes to those sorts of things. I hate horror films. Hate them! They give me nightmares. I saw "Friday the 13th" as a small child (thanks, not-so-vigilant older siblings! :) ), and I was scarred for life. Sometimes, when I'm really quiet and still, I can still hear the creepy "Help me! Help me!" voice when I lay in bed at night. But back to the devil-casting show...I had my head under a blanket for most of the first half, until I decided I couldn't take it anymore, and I went upstairs and talked to my friend's mom until the show was over. It was most delightful. I rather enjoyed it.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner! Nobody!

Words to live by.

And, lest any of you not understand the depth of this iconic line, then I suggest you listen to Mr. Swayze describe it himself.... It adds a whole new layer of awesomeness. So deep, Patrick, so deep....

The real question I have though, is this: You originally didn't like the line "nobody puts Baby in a corner," but you were ok with "She's like the wind through my tree" in the song She's Like the Wind?

Tracking Down the Creeps Returns!

2011-09-21T12:33:00.000-07:00

Ok, I haven't done a Tracking Down the Creeps post in a long time! And, I haven't been monitoring any of my search terms in a long, long time. So, this is the best I have for now. So here they are: odd search terms landing people on my blog:

kamilli's boyfriend trouble
No boyfriend trouble here. Not anymore anyways. I had some real lame ones back in the day though. Double trouble.

Interestingly, a friend of mine emailed me the other day and notified me of her recent facebook find. Through a mutual friend, she had found one of my old boyfriend's facebook pages. Wow. That's all I can say. WOW. It's amazing how much a person can change in 15 short years. And I don't just mean physically change. Mentally....physically....spiritually change. It's moments like this that I am sure glad I married my dear Hamburglar.

when is the hamburglar's birthday
Were you going to throw a party? Who really wants to know when the Hamburglar's birthday is? Seriously?

you give me fever latin accent
I'm picturing Antonio Banderas. A little Shrek Puss in Boots action or something.

those who disagree with obama are racist
Still hearing this? Really? Of course, it couldn't be the fact that Obama has turned out to be one of the biggest duds in modern presidential history. No, we disagree with him because....? We are racist.

Canadian band lyrics Zack AND Kelly AND 80's AND mullet
Wow! So much awesomeness jam-packed into one fabulous web search. Canadian bands? Fantastic. Zack and Kelly? Iconic. 80s? One of the best decades ever! Mullet? Three words for ya: Billy. Ray. Cyrus. The Kentucky Waterfall never disappoints.

is obama a oil scare monger
Ummm...he's just a monger. Of course, I say that because I'm a racist.

gumboots puddles annoying
Indeed.

pooping porn
Words fail me. Ewww. Did they mean to type "popping corn?" No wait, I've got it! They meant to type "pooping corn!" That's it!

Ok, that's still gross....but much better than pooping porn.

gyno and paper and gown
All three go together and combine for one glorious experience. Can't have one without the others.

"latex gloves" diaper nurse "she said"
Yeah, if I were a diaper nurse, I'd definitely be whipping out the latex gloves as well. In fact, I'd probably have a triple layer of those bad boys. I just don't know where the "she said" comes in. Like a "that's what she said" kind of thing? That's a little more disturbing.

ikea knight in shining armor from a long time ago
I'm sure this person just forgot the "l" at the front of this search, but I kind of like the idea of a knight in shining armor at IKEA. I can see it now. Some Swedish man. Blonde. Gangly. Bad teeth.

do's and don'ts of pooping in public
Really, there's just one rule of thumb here. Just don't. Don't do it. And if you must, please, for the love, make sure I'm not coming into the stall right behind you.

What the Aitch? Wednesday!

2011-09-14T12:10:00.000-07:00

1. I was giving Wee One a bath the other day, when I looked into the tub and saw that she was playing with what? A HUGE spider. Dead. Floating in my poor little baby's bath water. The SITS (Spider Induced Tourette Syndrome) kicked in, and there were many screams to be screamed...both by me and Wee One. Every time I screamed, she screamed. It was not pretty. No swears though! I count that has a huge success! I am trying. Really, I am. I am just grateful it was dead, even if I did have to fish the thing out of the tub. To add to the nonsensical nature of this horrible phobia, I am just as scared of dead spiders as I am of the alive ones. They're just as ugly. Even if they are slightly less prone to attacking me and biting me to death.

2. 'Tis the season for Halloween costumes. Yes, I know it is only mid-September, but we have to start early at this house. Why? Because I like to make my kids' costumes. Don't ask me why...it is some sort of horrible self-torture I like to endure. Oftentimes, my children will choose a "theme," and will dress up together in that theme. We have done Star Wars, Super Mario Bros. (twice), and this year, they are considering a Smurfs theme. Ummmm....yeah. Do you know how hard it is to make a Smurf costume? I mean, the hat I can do. And I can totally buy a blue shirt. But the white pants and poofy shoes? Not sure how I'm going to pull that off without it looking really cheesy/lame-o. We'll see. There's still hope I can "manipulate" them into a different direction.

And speaking of Smurfs....today Big Red declared to me that he only liked two Smurfs. Grouchy and Jokey. Oh my goodness, if this doesn't describe my Big Red perfectly! He is a hybrid of those two Smurfs. A somewhat grouchy/mischievous little devil. Love him. Love him.

3. Obama. Need I say more? I can't even bear to talk about it. I'm tired. I'm tired of saying how pathetically incompetent he is on so many levels. Really, I am. It pains me. It hurts my heart. I can't do it. But just know....the raging fire of discontent still burns deep inside. I just can't talk about it. I have to save it up for the general election. Gotta get through this Republican primary first....

4. Republican Primary. I can't decide! I really enjoyed Monday's debate. I thought it was entertaining. I really liked a lot of what the candidates had to say. I wish I could just melt them all together and create my perfect, dream candidate. But of course, there is no perfect candidate. They all have baggage. They've all done and said stupid things. I am having a really hard time throwing my support behind anyone right now. Not because I think the current candidates are lackluster...but because I just don't know. I like a lot of different things in each of them.

5. The other night I went to bed, and declared to Hamburglar that something was missing in my life. Do you know what that thing is? Good television! That is what is missing! Summer television blows. Most specifically, late summer television. But in a few weeks, it will all be better. Yes, more mindless, useless, nothingness will surely fulfill my life.

Summer Bummer

2011-08-06T07:21:00.000-07:00

Every morning for the past two weeks, I have been taking all my children over to the high school pool for swimming lessons. If I could sum it up in one word, it would be....ummmm.....hell.

But it has been good, because all of the kids learned new things and became stronger swimmers. Well, I don't know if I can yet classify BigRed a "swimmer," but he's getting better. He can float now. So that's an improvement. Can't get him to actually move in the water. But he'll figure it out one of these days.

Anyhow, usually when the kids are done, I just pack them up and we go home to shower and change. As has been previously documented here, I don't particularly enjoy the public shower/dressing room thing.

Well, yesterday we had to go to the mall (ugh!) after the lessons, so I had Wonderella go into the dressing room to change. I took the other 3 chiluns out to get into the car. As I'm strapping Wee One into her car seat, Wonderella appears with a look on her face that can only be described as ...well...traumatized. With a glazed look over her face, she reports back to me that she "will not be doing that again." Upon my inquiry as to why, she painfully describes to me the visions of horror that were hers in that there dressing room. I don't know if I caught all the details, but I do know the words "big," "bum," "bosoms," and "gross" were used. Therapy may or may not be necessary.

You see, Wonderella's not used to seeing people's nether regions. The motherlands and the bosoms are kept under tight wraps in these parts, I (and Hamburglar) can assure you. And beyond just seeing the unpleasantness of other people's nakedness, what might be most disturbing to Wonderella--and I'm just guessing here-- is the realization that that is what her body is going to look like one day. Here she is, with her cute, skinny, hairless, toned body.....and she looks at these grown women and must think...really? I have to grow up and look like that? It's gotta be depressing.

So to all of you naked pubic---oops-- I mean public showerers out there...I have a simple plea. For the love, think of the children, people. Think of the children.

Random Vacation Thoughts

2011-07-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

Why hello, there.

I am back from my roadtrip. Back from the land of milk and honey. There is a lot of milk and honey flowing around there...what with all the boob jobs occurring there. Seriously, in some parts of that place, every other billboard is an ad for a plastic surgery of some sort...or some adult novelty store. It's freeway porn, I tell you! It makes me glad we don't have billboards where I live.

The trip was good. We were gone for 2 weeks. Hamburglar was in NYC for work for the first week, so I was with my chiluns for the first week. We didn't do much. Went shopping, saw a movie, hung out... When Hamburglar got back, we went camping and boating with my brother's family, attended my beautiful niece's beautiful wedding, and hung out with the family. No major inuries or traumas, so in my book, that makes for a successful trip.

Some random thoughts....

The days of yesteryear....
One of the highlights of the trip was going to a reunion with some of my friends from my college freshman year. That was a lot of fun. I always enjoy catching up with old friends and seeing what everyone is up to. Everyone looked so great! Sure, we've probably all put on a few pounds, and gained a wrinkle or two, but for the most part everyone was so much the same. Some of my very favorite people and memories come from this time of my life. Such a fun and funny group of people. I miss them. I came away from that reunion wishing we all could just live on the same block again and hang out every day, eat food that other people made for us, and have our kids play together. Now, other people there might not want their children associating with mine, seeing as BigRed managed to terrorize practically every child there at the reunion. At one point, I went to give Big Red a "talking to" and told him to stop being mean. Then, some kid (probably around 9 years old or so) came up and said "it's ok, we like it when he's mean!" Ummmmm...Ok. Not helping my case here, kid. Sigh.... good times. I only wish more people could have made it. I missed seeing them. Maybe next time....

Small tangent here....Speaking of BigRed. Apparently he gives his younger cousin nightmares. My sister's 4 year old son has woken up crying because he's dreaming that BigRed is stealing his toys! hahaha. Oh, BigRed. He lives up to his strawberry blonde reputation. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with him. In fact, yesterday, I spent almost 2 hours searching for the kid. I could not find him anywhere. He was gone. Practically the whole neighborhood was out scouring the forested areas and parks near our home. We searched everywhere. I was starting to lose it a bit...with all sorts of horrible scenarios running through my mind of what might have happened to him. Well, obviously, we eventually found him.....asleep....hidden underneath the pillows on the couch. I was super nice to him for the rest of the day...having experienced for a couple hours the thoughts of not having him. Unfortunately, those happy, feel-good feelings did not last long, when later that evening, I asked him to stop playing with the neighbor's hose. As I walked up to him to take the hose from his hands, what did he do? He looked at me with his devilish grin, pointed that hose at me, and proceeded to spray the crap out of me. Soaked me. As I told him to stop. I only hope the neighborhood enjoyed the show. I guess I should just be glad I wasn't wearing a white Tshirt.

Oops, I Did it Again...
While we were gone, my brother showed me the video of the SNL ad for "Oops, I Crapped My Pants." Have you seen it? Well, if not, here it is...

I found it quite timely, because when we arrived home from our trip, we stopped in a grocery store to pick up a few items. And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that there was a trail of poo on the floor starting all the way in the back corner where the milk is, all the way to the front of the store near the bathrooms. It was dis.gust.ing. Literally piles of loose poo all the way up the store. Somebody was experiencing some major sphincter issues. Major. I have to wonder if this individual was even wearing underwear. I am not sure how it is possible to release that much poo into the wild. I don't know. Rather than "oops I crapped my pants," I would say that was a "$h*!, I $h*! my pants" moment. The poor guy who had to clean that one up! Oh, the horrors that awaited him! Needless to say, I don't think I will be frequenting that store again for some time. It's where the hobos hang out anyways.

Amd speaking of bathrooms....

We went camping/boating for a couple days with my brother and his family and had a grand time. We had made reservations a few weeks beforehand, and as the time drew nearer, we started getting concerned about the water temperature of the reservoir we were going to be at. But we went anyways, and I'm glad we did, because the water was totally fine. We had picked this particular campground, partly for one of its fine ammenities: their "comfort stations." AKA Flushing Toilets. I just love how they felt the need to rename "restroom" or "bathroom" or "toilet" to COMFORT STATION. Seriously, though, is there anything worse than going to the bathroom in one of those Honey Buckets or non-flushing, hole-in-the-ground toilets? I think not. So utterly disgusting. Like I want to know what the person before me did. And what it looked like. Nasty!! So thank you, dear Chokecherry Campground for the flushing toilets. And, let me assure you, there was much comfort to be found and had in your comfort stations. Much comfort, indeed. I think the guy in the grocery store was in dire need of a comfort station like yours. Dire need.

Totally 80s Tuesday

2011-06-14T12:18:00.000-07:00

I had a little stroll down mammary lane the other day. I recalled a birthday I had in junior high. I was with a few of my friends and we went to the mall. A band was playing there. And, as you all know, only the best of bands play at malls. So we went to see them. They were a French Canadian band that I was oddly fond of. I say oddly because, in general, I am not fond of many things French Canadian. With the exception of Roch Voisine, of course. He, I am very fond of. And I mean very.
I provide evidence below.

Anyhow, we went to see this band, called World on Edge, and afterwards stood in line to meet them. And when it was our turn to converse with these young lads, one of my friends told the lead singer that it was my birthday. I did not want her to do that. And I dug my fingernails into her hand the whole time she was talking to him--until the skin actually broke!-- because I was embarassed and did not want any attention. I don't like it when people tell other people it's someone's birthday. It's awkward to me. It is like when you're at a restaurant and you try to let your server know that it's someone's birthday? Ugh!!! I hate that so much! Anyhow, back to the Frenchie lead singer. So, when he found out it was my birthday, he gave me a kiss! On the lips!! I was so embarassed. But I'm not gonna lie....it was kind of cool. Until I got a cold sore a couple days later. A fantastic birthday present, indeed. Now, I cannot confirm that I got herpes from the lead singer of World on Edge. But I can't deny it either. So there you have it. What am I left with? A lifetime of miserable, disgusting, painful cold sores, that's what. I shudder now to think how many girls that guy kissed and where those lips had been!!

Indulge me on a small tangent here. I am reminded of the time I also was out with some friends at an expo and a cover band was doing a little concert. The lead singer was kind of cute. You can imagine my delight when he came over, grabbed my hand, and sang to me. And then, he kissed my hand. How wonderful, right? Yeah, you'd think so. Unless you knew that my job that summer was that of painter. Yes, me. A painter. And I was painting with an oil-based paint. You know, the kind that just gets into everything and stains your hands, etc.? My hands were stained grey. They were just gross and dirty looking. I literally looked like a leper. I am sure as this fine young man drew my hand up to his lips, he was thinking--"what the hell kind of disease am I going to get from this?" But it was too late for him. He couldn't abort the kiss mid-raising-of-my-hand. He had to see it to its completion, this kiss of my hand. How bad would that look if he stopped? Poor guy.

Interestingly, my friends and I went out to sing karaoke later that night, and that same band was there that night singing karaoke too! They probably thought we were following them. Which we weren't. But I was so embarassed. Now, I like to think that they were following us.

Anyhow, back to World on Edge. Surprisingly, herpes and all, I did not lose fondness for some of their songs. So, I share them here. Sans the herpes.

Also, I give you the song that brought the Chinese restaurant house down that night at karaoke. One of my favorite songs, covered by one of my favorite singers, Mr. Buble.... Another fine Canadian boy.

What the ? Wednesday!

2011-06-08T15:15:00.000-07:00

My Wednesday Rant:

1. Apparently Costco's not the only cheap weiner in town. Could the story of Congressman Weiner get any better? I mean, really? This weasely, scrawny, liberal Congressman from NY, married to a top aide of Hillary Clinton, with the last name of Weiner sexting and sending ridiculous photos of himself (and his weiner) to random women? It is just rich. It's a late-night comedian's dream.

Of course, I feel bad for his wife, even if she does have an obvious lack of taste in the man (and women to work for) departments. But this guy is a nut. And completely delusional. Have you seen him? He's gross. And he apparently thinks he is something to look at. Ugh. Have you read the transcripts? I haven't read much of them (to protect my pure and innocent mind from such filth), but I've read enough to know that this guy is a perv.

It disturbs me to know that there are such gross, creepy guys and girls out there who just commence random sexual conversations with strangers just for the heck of it. I know I live in a naive little bubble world (and I like it that way, thank you)--but seriously. Get a life. Is this really what we've come to?

The guy is an idiot. And a liar. And completely unfit for Congress. Are these really the kind of people we want representing us in government? Really? What is wrong with us? He needs to go--and fast. You know if he were a Republican he would've been gone by now. We'll see what happens with him as a Democrat. Somehow, they're almost always able to sail through scandals such as these. If Nancy Pelosi really wants to "drain the swamp" of Congress, then she should definitely start with Mr. Weinerschnitzel.

2. Neighbors, neighbors, neighbors. Sigh..... There's a part of me that is really regretting not buying one of the acreage homes we looked at. Sure, I would've been living with bears and cougars...but it's gotta be a heck of a lot better than living with some of these nuts.

Things were fine until a family moved in not long after we did. The father won some sort of settlement for an injury on the job or something, and doesn't work anymore. They bought the house with cash, bought all new furniture for it, and a nice Mercedes to park in the driveway. But here's the thing. They're white trash. And you can take the kids out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the kids.

I had a bad feeling about this family the moment I met them, and from everything I've witnessed and experienced, I am pretty sure my gut is right. My gut and feelings are almost always right when it comes to these sorts of things. This was especially confirmed to me the day that VidKid came home from school and told me that one of the boys in this family told him that he had been googling pictures of naked girls. And he's in 4th grade. Fabulous. Just what I want my pure, little innocent VidKid thinking about or knowing about. What the hell?!

3. BigRed "graduates" from Preschool today. What's with all the stupid "graduations?" There is no graduation from preschool. What do you have to do to graduate preschool? Turn 5? Yay, kid, you turned 5! Let's throw a party and act like it was a huge accomplishment! I'm tired of celebrating mediocrity. I'm tired of celebrating nothing. All the trophies for just playing the sport. The certificates for just showing up. For what? Our kids don't know how to really win....and they sure as heck don't know how to lose. Do you know how much money I've spent on trophies for my kids? Where I come from, you shouldn't have to buy a trophy. You earn it. You win it! They give it to you because you deserve it. They award it to you for winning something! For being a winner! But not like Charlie Sheen winnerness. Real winnerness.

Buying trophies! Ha! Whose idiotic idea was that? I'm making a commitment. Next season, I am refusing to buy my kids trophies. Will they feel bad? Perhaps. But if I tell them I'll take the 10 bucks I was going to spend on a trophy to sit on a shelf and collect dust and instead take them out to lunch to celebrate a good season and good effort, I'm sure they won't mind.

4. 'Tis the season for teacher gifts. Hate them. Not because I don't appreciate my kids' teachers. I really do, for the most part. It's just that I never know what to give them. I know they must get so much junk. I am sure they give half of it away. I definitely think the thought is what counts...and I want them to know that I appreciate them and their efforts. But I just hate it. I want to give them something they'll actually like and actually use....that doesn't break the bank.

Besides the occasional tongue-lashing, what do you give your kids' teachers?

WackJob and WingNut of the Week!!

2011-05-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

I've been avoiding all things political for weeks. It ebbs and flows with me. Sometimes I immerse myself in it, and then I get sick of it, or frustrated, and need to take a break for awhile. But I'm back for a bit. Gotta gear up for the election season. Two things happened over the last couple days that got me a bit fired up.

WingNut of the Week!
New DNC Chairman (oops!! I mean Chairwoman) Debbie Wasserman Shultz

Speaking of the Republican Party and their vote to defund Planned Parenthood and Title 10 funding for abortion clinics, dear Debbie had this to say:

"It's just so hard for me to grasp how they could be so anti-women as they are. The pushback and the guttural reaction from women against the Republican's agenda out of the gate, the war on women that the Republicans have been waging since they took over the House, I think is going to not only restore but possibly helps us exceed the president's margin of victory in the next election.

"So if you look on balance at the entire record, their record is anti-women, their record is a war on women and it's a priority for them. "

Ok, Debbie Wasserman Shultz. You're obviously a feminist because you use your maiden and married names. So you're saying that if you disagree with using federal taxpayer money to pay for abortions, you are anti-woman? Is that really what you're saying? So I guess if that is your logic, then I would say that you who think we should use taxpayer money to pay for abortions are anti-baby. Anti-child. Anti-family. Anti-responsibility. Anti-keeping-your-pants-on-so-you-don't-get-pregnant.

As a woman, let me say that there is NOTHING in the Democrat party that represents me or anything I desire from my government. Let me tell you what women want and what women care about. Here's a hint: it doesn't involve ripping unborn babies out of the womb.

We care about our families.
We care about having jobs--either our own or our husband's. Making sure our kids are fed and clothed and taken care of.
We care about sending our kids to good schools and having options and choices in that regard.
We care about keeping our communities and nation safe and happy and decent places to live and work and play.
We care about having the freedom to do mostly what we please, and to teach our children mostly what we please.
We care about instilling and promoting morals and principles and personal responsibility in our children and in our society.

So which party cares about the same things? Which party supports an economic policy that is pro-growth, pro-business, and anti-tax? Which party celebrates personal liberty and responsibility? Which party promotes small government and more local control over matters that are so important? Which party believes in a strong national defense and local law enforcement?

I'm not looking for a party that panders to environmentalists, radical so-called "women's groups" that represent no woman I know, pacifists, socialists, atheists, and every other sort of freak out there? I want nothing to do with a party that enslaves people and lures them into a life and attitude of entitlement where they will never get off their butts and work a day in their lives. I desire nothing in a party that thinks they know how to live my life better than I do--and that they know how to raise my child better than I do. And I absolutely refuse to associate with a party that thinks it is OK for a woman to not accept personal responsibility for her actions and therefore has the "right" to kill her unborn child--especially with my taxpayer money.

No, dear Debbie. Your party has no appeal to me whatsoever. So, you take your "women's rights" crap and shove it.

WackJob of the Week!
Ed Shultz

Another person named Shultz that is a lunatic. On his MSNBC show--what's that?.....you've never heard of it?--he called conservative radio host and commentator Laura Ingraham, among other things, a "right wing slut."

Classy.

So, there you have it. Ed Shultz. Big time liberal. Big time Democrat. And obviously very pro-woman...as all Democrats are, of course.

Totally 80s Tuesday!

2011-05-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

Today's Totally 80s Tuesday is inspired by a couple songs that Wonderella, her friend, and I listen to every Monday on the way to volleyball practice. Actually we don't just listen to these two songs. We sing them at the top of our lungs. Two songs that embody everything great about the 80s.... most notably: one demonstrates a great use of incomprehensible and unintelligible lyrics and the other a soaring chorus that is impossible to resist not singing. Of course, I speak of Falco's "Amadeus" and Jefferson Starship's "Sara."

Amadeus: strange and weird and...European.

Sara: I'm not sure who Sara is or why she has storms brewing in her eyes.
I think that Wonderella particularly likes "Sara" because of all the Sarahs in our lives. I have two sisters-in-law, two dear friends, several other friends, old girlfriends of Hamburglar's, and a plethora of other cousins/relatives all named Sarah. Or Sara. However you prefer. In any case, to all my Sarahs out there--this one's for you. No time is a good time for goodbye.

Red(Headed Stepchild)Box

2011-05-11T07:15:00.000-07:00

RedBox. At times, fantastic! At others, annoying and completely aggravating. You love it, yet it drives you entirely insane. Just like a redheaded stepchild. (No offense if you're a redheaded stepchild.)

Oh, the places you will go to find a redbox kiosk! For our last 30 hour roadtrip we took for my grandmother's funeral, Hamburglar and I decided to rent a few movies while on the road. Hitting a kiosk here, a kiosk there--oh wait--they don't have the movie we want...let me walk to the other end of the WalMart to find it...oh wait, this one is only BluRay....oh no, there's a line at this kiosk. But there's a kiosk across the street that has it...Do we have time? We gotta go...we gotta make some damn good time on this trip.

All of that and more. For what? For a cheap movie, that's what.

And the people who take their sweet tweet time browsing the movies like they're at a Blockbuster or something while a humongus line forms behind them? I know, I know....they probably waited their turn just like everyone else. But. Really? What is the wise adage--Be the change you wish to see in the world? BE that person who doesn't spend 20 minutes at the kiosk. Be him. Or her. Or it. Just get off the dang kiosk!! This is not a life-altering decision here, people. You'll be OK. Just pick a dang movie! It costs A DOLLAR! If it doesn't work out, you're out a buck. Seriously. No offense if you're one of these people. Actually, I rescind that. Offense intended. Take offense. Please, for the love--take offense. It drives me literally insane.

I give you an example of my insanity:

While I was in Utah for the funeral, I needed to return 3 movies. It was almost 9pm, and I really wanted to save myself from being charged another 3 whole dollars. Yes, I see the hypocrisy. In any case, I drove to the nearest Smith's store with my brother and got in line behind 2 other groups of people. But the first couple at the kiosk were browsing slowly through every. single. movie. I didn't have the patience for it. It was 8:50! So, since I had also come to Smith's looking for some Cadbury's dark chocolate Mini Eggs, I decided to run in quickly and see if they had any. Bad decision, as the line only grew as I as scavenging for candy-coated dark chocolatey goodness. A store clerk informed me that there was another kiosk at the fuel station, so I tried that. But, of course--another man browsing the movies.

Well, long story short, I ended up at the McDonald's across the street at 9pm. But not after almost hitting a couple cars and saying some choice words to a Town and Country van that was driving entirely too slow. Especially for Utah. Utahns drive like bats out of hell. But not this one. Needed a little more town, a little less country out of this Town and Country. But no. So, I waited in a brief line--brief because the wise man right in front of me had reserved his movie! Yes!!! A reservation!! I LOVE the people who reserve ahead of time.

Did I get the movies in on time? I know you're dying to know. Perhaps. I actually don't know. I definitely didn't get them in before 9pm MST, but I did get them in before 9pm PST--which is the time zone they were rented in. Does it matter? I don't know. And I don't really care. I couldn't find any mini eggs, so the night was shot anyways.

So, in summary--dear RedBox....thank you for offering at-times scant supplies of second-tier movies for one dollar plus tax. It's a bargain. And thank you for bringing a word back into my vocabulary that I have so sorely missed. Kiosk.

And to you RedBox lingerers/browsers/losers: Light a fire under your butts.

Spring Fling

2011-04-25T09:09:00.000-07:00

I think I mentioned earlier that for Spring Break we took our kids down to Oregon for a little sunny spring skiing. Or so we thought. There was actually more snow than sunshine...but that's OK. It was still a good time.

Some of the highlights:

I Can't Be Your Hero, Baby

On the way down, there was an older, beat-up car with its tail lights flickering in front of us, with two thuggish-looking guys in it. Now, I had seen somewhere that if you are ever kidnapped and put in the trunk of a car, that you are to rip out the tail light wires and do crazy things with them. When I saw these, I insisted that Hamburglar call 911. He thought I was crazy...which I probably was, but I figured that if it were my kid or me stuck in that trunk, I would want some vigilant person to help me. So he called. I am pretty sure they thought he was a dork. But whatever. I had visions and hopes of turning on the evening news that night and seeing a news story of the heroic, observant person who saved a young kidnapped girl from her evil captors. But no. All visions of grandeur and heroism were not to be. I will just have to be content with being a guitar heroine for now. Sigh....Maybe next time. Next time there will be a kidnapped woman I can save. I can only hope.

The Not-So-Silence of the Lambs

So, I think the most oft-used word or phrase used on the trip was "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" I am ultra-paranoid about being loud when I am in a hotel or condo where there are other people around us that we can (and will) disturb. It didn't help that we were over the occupancy limit of the condo we were staying in and I feared punishment or expulsion! (I tried to find a 2 bedroom condo, I really did!!) It also didn't help that just after check-in, we heard the next-door neighbors having a fight with their teenage boy--complete with proclamations of "I hate you!" and "You're a jerk!" Ahhhh, yes....someone was enjoying their getaway adventure!

Every five minutes, I was shushing someone or whispering in a not-so-whispery way "Quiet feet! Quiet feet!!" It was all for naught, because it didn't work. Kids are kids. Kids=LOUD. This is a universal truth. Unless they're mutes. But I have not been blessed with mute children. And even if I were....they'd still find ways to be loud. Loud feet. Loud hands. Loud bums.

You Raise Me Up, So I Can Fall Down Mountains

The chiluns did a great job at boarding/skiing. Wonderella and VidKid took boarding lessons the first day, and BigRed did ski lessons. They did great. The snow was cooperative...it was good. Then the second day we went, we got dumped on! So. Much. Snow. The most snow I've ever skied in. Past my knees. Crazy powder. The kids really struggled with it, because it is so much work to ski in that much snow.

There was much falling. There was weeping, there was wailing. More specifically, there was much weeping and wailing right underneath the chairlift, providing great entertainment for the people heading up the mountain. Completely embarassing.

Also, I would like to say, regardless of how dumb it may sound, I am 100% convinced that I heard a bear while on the mountain. You may laugh. You may mock. But I know what I heard. And there is no human being that could produce such a horrific, terrifying sound. A rabid beaver, perhaps. Yes, I admit, I may have a somewhat irrational fear of bears. But that fear has never made me hear voices--bear voices--in my head! I know what I heard!

Little Deuce Coupe...You Don't Know What I Got....

One of the days there, we went on a little hike in Smith Rock State Park. It was a cool place where there is a lot of rock climbing. Very pretty canyon. So we're on this hike...and we stop to take a little break, and Hamburglar and Wonderella decide to go climb this big rock just off the trail. So I'm sitting back with Wee One, Big Red, and VidKid, when both Big Red and VidKid decide they need to go to the bathroom. NOW. Big Red needs to pee, and VidKid needs to do something else...needs to go "move something" (as my father would say). The bathrooms are way back on the trail, and I am not heading back to do that. So, I make them squat behind some bushes/rocks. VidKid over here....Big Red over there. We're ripping up trail maps to serve as toilet paper...it was a great demonstration of resourcefulness. And then these people show up and I don't think they know that there are children just off the trail in the bushes with their pants down taking a dump. Because they stop literally just in front of them and start taking pictures of themselves with the huge rocks in the background. And I am just thinking "please, oh please, let my child's butt not be in the background of their photo." I am hoping against hope. You ever take those photos and go back and look at them and you've got some random person in the background picking their nose or something? Those are awesome. I guess we'll never know if my kid's butt ever made it into the shot.

Whose Child Is That?

2011-04-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

In light of my last post, I need to share this story with you....

Last night, the LDS missionaries and one of our ward missionaries stopped by to give us a little "challenge." Hamburglar, VidKid, Wonderella, and I were sitting down in the living room with them, when the ward missionary challenged us to pray more. In the moment of silence while Hamburglar and I pondered whether or not we were willing to accept such a challenge, out of the office, where Big Red was playing a game on the computer, we hear, as loud and clear as can be....

"What the hell?!"

Nice.

So don't you worry....while I may be trying to stop the swearing, my son is picking up right where I left off. You know all that talk of what kind of legacy I was leaving my children? Well, I think I have my answer.

A Simple Plea

2011-04-20T10:34:00.001-07:00

With my grandmother's passing have come many questions from my children regarding death, heaven, and the like. VidKid, being my most sensitive child, has especially been concerned about these things. So much so, that he has pleaded with me, and I quote, "to try harder not to say bad words so that [I] can go to heaven."

Ouch.

He has reminded me and told me several times. Each time I let one fly. Which apparently is quite often.

He's such a sweetheart. He's so sincere in his longing for me to be better and do better so that I will be worthy of heaven. And he's right. I do need to be and do better.

When someone close to you dies, it often makes you rethink your life and what you're doing with it. It forces you to re-evaluate your priorities and what you want out of life and the eternities. As Glenn said in the comments of my last post, you think about your own life and death and how you will be remembered and what people will say about you. Will they have lots of great things to say? Or will they struggle to come up with anything at all?

It's similar to when I hear a man talk about what a lovely, virtuous, fabulous wife and mother of his children he has. I sometimes wonder: Would Hamburglar be able to say those same things about me? Am I lovely? Am I virtuous? (a quick scan of this here blog might lead one to say otherwise...) Am I a fabulous mother? Ummmm....Please don't answer these questions.

What kind of legacy am I leaving my children? A legacy of love and faith and righteousness, or of something else?

Things to ponder and think about. For now...I am working on the swearing bit. For VidKid and Hamburglar and the chiluns. And for me.

Grandma

2011-04-13T08:55:00.001-07:00

So I received word today that my maternal grandmother will most likely pass away within the next couple weeks or so. It's something you knew was going to happen eventually....but eventually always seemed so far off. Now that eventually is here, the reality is setting in. So--a big shout out to my grandmother--who is a faithful reader of this blog and still manages to love me and claim me as one of her "own" in spite of it! My grandma is a great lady. She loves holidays and Christmas. Her house was always decked out for the holidays, and every Christmas, she would give each of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren an ornament that represented something about him/her. It could be for a hobby we were involved in, or an interest, or a character trait...something! It was always so thoughtful and meaningful. I am happy to have a tree full of ornaments that came right from her!! My favorite vacations as a young child were when we went to visit her home in Seattle. I loved staying in her basement, playing games with the cousins, as we listened to our moms and grandma "cackle" upstairs. She always had a big pot of hot, yummy soup ready for us. I learned to love split pea soup at Grandma's!

She was a devoted wife. She adored my grandfather and served him faithfully, lovingly, and unceasingly until the day he died.

She loves trees and flowers and greenery. Her yard was always beautiful, and there was often a bouquet of fresh flowers on her kitchen table. She and my grandfather loved the cherry blossoms that bloom this time of year. I think of each of them when I see the blossoms.

My grandma is a hip grandma....and not in the "bad hip" kind of way. She was one of the first to drive the new VW Beetles when they came back around. All the boys would stop and stare at her when she drove down the street!! She was stylin'!

It is sad to think that I won't see her until we meet again on the other side. But I know that we will. And what could be a better time to celebrate the life of a loved one than at Easter time--when we celebrate the life and death and resurrection of our Savior, Jesus Christ? He triumphed over death so that we could too. I know that is real. There is great comfort in that.

She is ready to move on to the next phase of "life," and to be reunited with her husband and loved ones. So, Grandma, thanks for all the wonderful laughs and memories....and pistachios!! I love you very much and will miss you and your great laugh and look forward to when we can meet again.

'Til then....

Choir Mire 2011

2011-03-25T10:54:00.001-07:00

As parents, we do a lot of things we don't really want to do. We change poopy diapers, we wipe runny noses and all sorts of orifices, we drive our kids to school and everywhere else around town, we sit through excruciatingly long and boring baseball games, then tell our kids how much we loved them, etc., etc. The list is endless, right? Our lives are full of things like this that we endure because we love our kids. Well, last night was one of those nights for me. Enduring to the end at its finest.

Wonderella belongs to her school choir, and our city has an annual all-city choir concert, where all the elementary school choirs in the city come together for one big extravaganza of musical mediocrity. This was my first time going, and let me tell you--it was splendid. The theme this year was "Jazz is On Its Way." Unfortunately, I don't know if jazz ever made it there. I looked...I listened. But I didn't see it. Though I did see a plethora of jazz hands, which was fantastic!

I sat next to my dear friend and loyal reader, sister wife, as she also had a daughter in one of the choirs. (I am looking forward to reading her much better, funnier synopsis of the night on her blog. ) She had warned me about the night...so we planned to sit together to share in our misery, seeing as both of our husbands could not be in attendance.

Lucky guys.

Let me break it down for you: One of the choirs had what they called an "orca"stra (because their school mascot is an orca...get it?) At least I think that is why they called it that...though it may have been because the sound that emanated from those instruments resembled the sound of an orca in pain. Or heat. Or something. An orca dying a slow, painful death. That's what it sounded like to me. Now, bless those kids' hearts. It's not their faults. They were trying. And I love that! It was Barry Manilow's fault, because the school was able to purchase the instruments with a grant from Barry Manilow's foundation. Well, I think I join in with all of my city in saying "thanks, Barry." Thanks alot. We owe you one. Really, we do. You really do write the songs that make the young girls cry. And old girls too....like me. Tears of pain and agony.

It wasn't just Barry's fault...it was also their director, who introduced her choir by saying "I am just a secretary. But I do know what I'm doing." Ok. After the number, I am not so sure about that. But whatever. She informed us that she had taken artistic liberties with Pachelbel's Canon and written words to it. Ummm...Ok. And these were the words repeated over and over while the violins whined :

"We are the future of the world. Our generation shall observe. We are waiting. And anticipating."

As we all were waiting. And anticipating. For the song to be OVER. What do those words even mean? What are they waiting for? World peace? For Barack Obama's hope and change to reach fruition? For the orca to die? What? It was really something, people. Really something. I'm not sure Pachelbel would have been proud.

Interestingly, about half of the songs sung by the choirs weren't even in English. There was one in an African language, a couple in Spanish, and one in Hebrew I believe. Obviously, it was a cultural experience. I felt cultured. Culture clubbed.

Now, it wasn't all bad. One of the highlights was the choir (with sister wife's daughter) who sang Men Without Hats' "Safety Dance," complete with dancers. It was awesome. It's like I always say....a little touch of 80s brightens anything. 'Twas a refreshing change. Also, there was a choir, that had a fantastic little drummer boy. He was pretty good. And, of course, Wonderella's choir did a fine job. Their choir is huge.

The best part of the "entertainment" of the night (if you can call it that) was the way the choir directors got into the music and tried to get their kids excited about it. I particularly enjoyed the one (and only) male director who was a complete ham with the kids. It was cute. And entirely hilarious.

Speaking of hams, every choir has at least one. You know, those kids who just belt it out, and groove it up, and really love and feel the music. The ones who adore the attention and the spotlight. Singing in tune is not a requirement for being designated the choir ham, unfortunately. Or fortunately....depending on what you find most enjoyable to watch/listen to. I , for one, find some sort of sick amusement in watching train wrecks. So I like the tone deaf kids.

In any case, add another night to the "I did this for you, you ungrateful chiluns" tally.

Yes, I am keeping a tally. One day, it will come in handy. I am quite confident of that.

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood? / Totally 80s Tuesday

2011-03-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

So, you know how I don't like other people's children? More specifically, how I don't like neighborhood children? Well...maybe that's a little harsh. Let me re-phrase...I don't like to see neighborhood children...you know...on my front porch, knocking on my door, playing in my backyard, in my house, etc. You get the picture.

Well, I have to say...who knew that Ukrainians were so dang fertile?? This new cul-de-sac I live on has a buttload of kids. And not like a scrawny buttload. We're talking J-Lo buttload. That's right...One. Big. Buttload. Who knew??

The next door neighbors have 5 little kids, alot of the neighbors have 4 kids, and the ones down the street have 13!!! If I didn't know any better, I would think I lived in Utah, rather than right here in western Washington's own little Ukraine. Kids everywhere! And guess whose house is right, smack dab in the middle of all the action? Yes, 'tis mine. I've got a Grand Central Station going on here.

On the plus side, they've all seemed to be very nice, respectful kids. And obviously, they're not all little kids. A few of them are teenagers, though I don't see them around too much, which is good. There are a couple of 5 year olds that have helped themselves to my backyard twice now. The first time, I let them, because they wanted to play in the igloo we had built, and I had mercy on them...it was a pretty cool igloo. But the second time, when they were just jacking around back there, I kicked them out. Someone had to let them know that was inappropriate behavior! So, let's see...I made it about 2 months living here before I became the mean mom of the street. At least to those two kids. That's not too bad, actually. Longer than I thought I'd make it.

I'm trying really hard to be nice to the new neighbors. I've actually only spoken to two adults on the street. It's the kids I'm buttering up. But, truthfully, I'm unsure of how much buttery goodness I have left in me. It's not in my nature to have so many kids playing at my house. Or in my garage. Wrecking my toys. Abusing my basketball hoop. This is serious business, folks. Nobody messes with my basketbal hoop.

I guess what needs to happen is that I need to make the neighbor kids afraid of me. That's what happened at my last house, and I think it worked out perfectly. So I need a plan. A plan to successfully frighten other people's children. But not frighten them so much that they won't like my children or not want to come into the house. I don't want that....because at least when they're here, I know what they're doing. I just want to scare them enough so that they know I mean business. And not to trifle with me and my delicate feelings.

Or my basketball hoop.

Any ideas??

And, in light of "Totally 80s Tuesday," a tribute to one of my favorite songs from Sesame Street. It's probably from the 70s...but whatever....go with it.

Totally 80s Tuesday!

2011-03-01T09:41:00.000-08:00

For today's stroll down mammary lane, I'd like to take a moment to sit back and remember fondly a time when life was big and bold and vibrant. No shades of grey. No neutrals. Nothing subtle. It was go big, or go home time. A time when color was color. When everything shouted to the world, "Look at me, I am bold and beautiful!"

Of course, I speak of none other than...

the age of the fluorescent.

No, not fluroescent light bulbs, but fluorescent colors. Oh, how I loved me a good fluorescent or neon-colored anything.

Hamburglar and I are going to go on a little spring break ski trip with our kids. Nothing fancy...just a few days for the older chiluns to hopefully learn how to ski (or board). I am insisting on skiing, but apparently, skiing is no longer cool. It's all about boarding. Whatever. I will be skiing. I know how to get down the hill on skis...why would I want to waste my time falling on my butt on a board?

Anyhow, I got to thinking how much I loved skiing when I was Wonderella's age. I learned to ski when I was nine years old, and after that first time on the hill, I wanted to go all the time. Living not too far away from the Canadian Rockies, there were several great ski destinations around. I would beg and nag and plead with my father to take me. Our school had a ski club, and several Saturdays during the ski season, when my basketball schedule allowed me, I would be on the ski bus floating on air in excitement over getting myself on the hill. Or maybe it was just the diesel fumes. Either way, some good times.

I've had some interesting ski experiences over the years. One of my favorites being falling off the t-bar lift when I was by myself and giving myself a bloody nose that would not stop, sitting on the side of the T-bar trail and having everyone look at me and pass by, then finally having to be taken down the hill by the medic ski sled. That was nice. But I digress. Back to the neon!

I remember quite fondly the year that I received a neon-colored ski ensemble for Christmas. (I just realized I really, really like to use the word "ensemble.") I was ecstatic. As can be seen in this here photo... (Please note, the fine Ocean Pacific fanny pack. No ski ensemble was complete without a fanny pack--perfect for holding a snack, chapstick, a pair of gloves, or in my case, a package of Kleenex.)

I pretty much thought I was the coolest thing ever. And maybe I was. No chance of losing me on the ski hill. No siree.

What was also really big at the time was a brand of ski jackets called Sun Ice. Everybody had to have a Sun Ice coat. It was a Canadian brand. I had a fluroescent yellow and green one. Needless to say, it was awesome. Neon yellow and green? Does it get any better than that? Let me testify--No, it does not.

Why do you think Corey Hart had to wear his sunglasses at night? No, it was not so he could keep track of visions in his eyes. It was because everything was so bright! Neon clothes, hair clips, shoes, jackets, sunglasses, makeup! You name it, you could probably find it in a fine shade of fluroescent. It was so flattering.

I miss it, quite frankly. Now, we live in world of beige and grey.

Blah!

What was your favorite neon-colored item from the 80s?

Zero Guitar Hero

2011-02-28T15:56:00.000-08:00

It's a sad day for the world, folks. A sad day. You might want to sit down for this.

Perhaps many of you already know, but Guitar Hero is officially dead. Gone. Over. Finished. C'est fini.

It was announced a couple weeks ago that Activision would no longer be creating Guitar Hero games. Yes, you read that correctly. I, too, find this news more than I can bear. How could they do this to us? All hopes of rocking out like Richie Sambora to "Wanted Dead or Alive" on a Bon Jovi Guitar Hero game are gone.

Yes, there's Rock Band, but as I have explained previously, I am not very good at Rock Band. I cannot explain why. Perhaps it is because I am not just a rock band member. I am a Guitar Hero. A Guitar Heroine, to be exact . To demote me to such ordinaryness....to just being a member of a band...well, that is offensive, quite frankly. Anyone can be in a band. Just ask Air Supply. But not everyone can be a guitar hero. I rank myself up there with some of the great female guitarists. Nancy Wilson ain't got nothin' on me.

I take comfort in the fact that I still own my games and my guitars. And no one can take those from me. Except for maybe a thief. But I'll give him my guitar when he takes it from my cold, dead hands. Cold, dead, stubby hands that, when given an electronic guitar with colorful buttons and an oversized whammy bar, make beautiful, glorious, bad arse music that is second-to-none.
The world is a darker place now. A darker place, indeed.

Time to Get Potty-Trained, Wisconsin

2011-02-22T10:26:00.000-08:00

Ok, people. I told you a political rant was a comin'. I've been suppressing my inner rage for months....and I think it's time for a release.

It's this Wisconsin union thing. It's putting me over the edge. I seriously don't know how much more of it I can take. And with other states joining in--with their unions protesting to show their "solidarity"--I can't take it. I really can not take it any longer.

What part of "broke" do these people not understand? Really? There's no money left. None. It's gone. They've sucked at the teat of the taxpayers for too long. The teats are dry. And like my mama always said, tough titty said the kitty when the milk went dry.

Speaking of dry teats--I would like to declare that I am back to being a one-boob wonder. One teat is dried up. Happens every time. I don't know why. But I'm sure I can blame it on the Republicans. They just ruin it for everyone.

These unions are freaking out because employees are going to have to pay for their health insurance (in some cases a whopping $200/mo !), and contribute to their own pensions....and get this--they are going to be subject to...brace yourselves.... MERIT PAY! Oh, the horror of it all! Or should I say "whorer of it all?"

These people are acting like children. Babies. Welcome to the real world, people. Welcome. Time to grow up and face the realities of the world we live in. Decades of entitlements and tenure and bloated and overpriced payrolls have bankrupted us. I'm thinking in today's economy, shouldn't you just be glad to have a job? And quite frankly...if you don't like what is happening to your pay and benefits, then in the words of NJ Governor Chris Christie, "you don't have to do it." I'm sure there's some unemployed person out there somewhere who'd love to have your job.

Which leads me to my thoughts on the Democrats who are just not showing up to work. Could you imagine what would happen to a private sector employee who just didn't come in? Called in a "fake sick?" Which--I'd also like to comment, what kind of message does it send children when their teachers are dishonestly calling in sick...and getting fake sick notes from stupid doctors? Anyone else would be fired. But no--these stupid Democrat politicians can play hooky and nothing will happen to them. I seriously can't deal.

It is not healthy or appropriate that a political party be so in bed with labor unions. They sure do take care of each other, don't they? They sure do. The unions scratch the Dems' backs...and the Dems scratch the unions' balls--I mean--backs, too.

Some of the teachers are trying to make this about education--that anti-union people are against teachers and kids and education. This has nothing to do with that. But if you want to make this about children, then fine--let's talk about the children and what's best for them. How about we not pile trillions of debt onto our children? How about that?

The madness has to end. There used to be a time and a place for unions. Those days are long gone, in my opinion. I think the unions lost their way a long time ago. Now, they are all about money, power, and sticking their noses into things where they don't belong.

Unions suck.

The end.

Cupid's Stupid

2011-02-14T14:06:00.000-08:00

Ok, so Cupid isn't stupid. But it rhymed. And you know how I love me a good rhyming blog post title.

I was in the store today picking up a few things, and I have to tell you--I got the biggest kick out of some of the men doing some last-minute Valentine's Day shopping. I mean, good for them for even getting something. Some went for the flowers, some went for the potted plants...some had the chocolates, and there were some wise souls who went for the jewelry. But mostly, I had to laugh at the group of teenage boys, who looked somewhat thuggish, standing in front of the chocolates-- staring--like they just weren't quite sure what to pick...or maybe they were too afraid to say to the other boys what they thought the lady friend would like--afraid to get in touch with their feminine side. Finally, one of them took the plunge and grabbed a chocolate rose. I wanted to intervene and let them know I did not find this to be a wise choice. But then, I decided against it. Quite frankly, I didn't want to get shot. Plus--sometimes it's better boys just learn some things the hard way.

Valentine's Day just isn't what it used to be. Like all other holidays, it has become way too commercialized--way too much about candy and flowers and gifts, and less about really telling the people you love how you feel about them. Gone are the days when schoolkids would pick out their favorite valentine cards, choose the perfect ones for each kid in their class, then seal them up in an envelope. Now, if your kids don't have candy attached to their valentines, then they're the lame ones in the class. Or at least a tatoo attached. Something! Anything! Heaven forbid we just give our friends a fun little card! Noooo, we must have a treat.

All that aside, Valentine's Day is a good day. What could be wrong with spreading a little love around? Heaven knows we need it. And isn't that what life is all about? Learning to love?

So a happy Valentine's Day to you and yours! May your day be rich and fruitful. That may mean different things to each of you. However it works out for you--I hope you have a fanstasmic day.

And if I may just close with a line from one of my favorite Valentine's Day cards:

Of all the people I know.....

You're one of them.

Just warms your heart, doesn't it? Just hits me right there (me, pointing to my bosom).
Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Can You Say...."Overachiever?"

2011-02-10T11:09:00.001-08:00

Poor Hamburglar. The guy can't catch a break. After the "never-to-be-spoken-of-again incident" at the Pinewood Derby, the next week he had to help Wonderella make a Rube Goldberg device for her homework. If you are like me, you would be asking right now, "What the aitch is a Rube Goldberg device?" It's one of those appartuses (apparati?) that has the ball rolling down a ramp, which hits something, that makes the pulley go, which knocks something over, which makes something else do something, etc. etc. You know...one of those.

So, Hamburglar and Wonderella spent all week working on this thing in the garage. Hamburglar's got some new tools...his manliness and confidence a little shaken after the Derby incident, but he's ready to redeem himself. So, they worked on this thing into the wee hours of the night...and it's impressive. It's 3 feet wide, 4 feet long, and about 5 1/2 feet tall. Rube Goldberg would have wet himself in excitement over this device. So we're all ready to put this sweet baby in the van and take it to school...when we discover it doesn't fit in the van. Which...was actually my fault. Shocker, I know! I kind of, maybe...mismeasured a bit on the dimensions of the van. Whatever. 1/8 inch here...1/4 inch there...what's the big deal? (Oh, my shop teacher dad would be so proud....)

So as I go about trying to find someone with a truck who can take it to the school, Hamburglar takes Wonderella to school, and discovers that it won't even fit through the doors to the school.

Long story short, Hamburglar spends the next few hours trimming the sucker down to a smaller size--which, screws up all the triggers in the device...meaning everything else has to be reset and recalibrated.

Disaster.

I actually have never heard Hamburglar say "hell" so many times in one day. Which actually warmed my heart.

We finally got it into the school...and what were we greeted with? All the other children with their cardboard box-sized devices. And then there's us. With a bloody fridge-sized device. Overachievement at its worst.

It's alright though, because it was quite popular. I think the kids liked it. Wonderella enjoyed her moment of glory. And I think Hamburglar did too.

Redemption? Kind of. No one needed to know the jimmy-rigging and swearing that had transpired in our garage that morning. So as I gazed across the gymnasium full of everyone's projects that morning, and saw all the kids, I also saw a gymnasium full of dads sizing eachother up. Scoping out the competition. Admiring their work, and the work of other dads. But, let's face it. Size does matter. And every man wants to have the biggest in anything. Car, house, science project....errrr...you know. And Hamburglar had the biggest of them all. So that makes him a winner in my book.

Oh--and Wonderella was a winner too. Yeah. It was her homework project. Did I mention that?

Wahoo Wednesday!

2011-01-26T17:03:00.000-08:00

Ok, so normally Wednesdays are reserved for ranting, with my What the He!! Wednesdays, but I decided today that I would not rant, but rave. Don't worry--I'm not going all Pollyanna-ish on you. I've still got plenty of rant in me. I've been storing up. You may have noticed that I have not talked politics in a long, long while. Some may be happy about that, others of you may not. It's not that I've lost interest. Lost energy perhaps. But don't worry--there's a political rant building in me that is about to burst. But not today.

1. Wee One had a weight check on Monday, and she jumped up from the 7th percentile into the 25th percentile! Yay Wee One! Nice work! She is loving that bottle. But she still loves the teats as well. So, she gets the best of both worlds. Yummy, never-ending milk from the bottle. Warm, cuddly teats from the mama. Win-win.

2. The people who put an offer on our house accepted our counter offer, so we are on for the home sale! Hopefully everything will go well with the inspection (tomorrow) and the appraisal. I don't imagine any major problems with the inspection. The appraisal could be interesting...we'll have to see how it turns out. Homes are appraising so low lately. All the foreclosures and short sales have really done a number on it all. Anyhow...we'll see. I hate the fact that I feel like we are paying these people to buy our house because we're paying their closing costs. But in a market like this, perhaps I should just be glad that I even have a buyer. But if I can rant for just one short moment--it is CRAZY how much money it costs to sell a house. Seriously. These agents make a lot of money....for doing what exactly? No offense to any agents out there...and I know there's behind-the-scenes work that goes on...but seriously. It's ridic.

3. Wonderella got her cast off, which means I can now make her do dishes and other chores she somehow found herself out of doing while she had a cast. This also means that she can get back to playing basketball next week....which is good, because her team needs her badly.

4. We're getting a babysitter this weekend. This is a big deal....because it's been a long time since Hamburglar and I have been out. We've been so busy with the move and unpacking, etc., that I can't tell you the last time we just relaxed or did anything for ourselves. This won't exactly just be for ourselves, but it will be nice nonetheless.

Epic Failure

2011-01-22T09:14:00.000-08:00

So you know that thing I was worried about? Yeah, it happened.

Vid Kid's derby car came in last. Dead. Last. It was an epic failure. Oh, the shame...the eternal shame. Every year there's a boy weeping on the sidelines. This year, it was my kid. My VidKid.

After the first run, when his car (shaped like a skateboard), slugged its way down the track, I knew we were in for a rough night. I flashed a "What the hell did you and your inferior derby-car-making skills just do to my child?" look at Hamburglar with each losing race. Now, it wasn't all a loss, as his car did win one race. But apparently that wasn't enough to come in dead last. He must've had the fast track that time around.

The most horrifying thing about it, is that it didn't have to be that way. After the race, the parents were talking, and the kids were doing some additional runs on the track for fun, and Hamburglar gets to finding out that the lubricant he used (which he was given at the Scout office) was different than the lubricants others used. So he gives VidKid's car a shot of this other lubricant, sends it down the track with some other cars--and that thing FLEW! It flew like a soaring eagle spreading its glorious wings. It would've been a contender. It was right in there with the other cars that placed in the race.

Oh, what could've been. Cue the Tiffany....

Could've been so beautiful.
Could've been so right.
I'll never hold what could've been (the coveted Pinewood Derby trophy)
On a cold and lonely night.

We might just have to hold on to this bad boy and race it again next year. Just to see what could've been.

Get Yer Motors Running

2011-01-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

Pinewood Derby is tonight. Hamburglar is the Cub Committee Chairman. You know what that means, right?

It means I am in charge of getting this dang thing together. Somehow, I have been the one making arrangements, buying awards, printing certificates, and making refreshments. Granted, Hamburglar has been busy slaving away on his derby car...errrrrr....I mean, Vid Kid's derby car. But still.

This Cub Committee Chairman's wife is hard work, I tell you what. The bishop's wife ain't got nothin' on me.

Here's to an uneventful derby! Like that's going to happen. There will be broken cars, weeping children, losers galore, and popcorn strewn all over the place. It's gonna be awesome. I will consider it a smashing success as long as Hamburglar's--I mean, VidKid's car does not come in dead last. Please, oh please, let it not come in last.

Hola

2011-01-18T14:00:00.000-08:00

Why hello there. Yes, I am alive. Alive and kicking. Kicking butt, that is.

Did you miss me? Come on...admit it....you missed me!!

Ok, fine. You didn't miss me. I understand. You don't come around anymore. You've been off galavanting around with some other blogstress haven't you? It's my fault. I haven't been here for you. I wasn't meeting your needs. Wasn't satisfying you. So you went out and found someone else. Someone you find stimulating and interesting. That's Ok. I get it.

But I'm here now. And I hope you'll take me back and give me another chance.

Now that my groveling is over...I'm not sure where to begin. It's been a LOOOOOONG month and a half. Really long. So much has happened. Do I even try to fill you in on any of it, or do I just move on from here?

Of course I will give you some highlights. I know you are so interested in the minute details of my life!

New House
We moved into our new home the week before Christmas. That was interesting and exciting to say the least. Big thanks to all those tough, burly men and their bulging muscles who helped us move. Ok, so there weren't a lot of bulges there...at least not muscles...but I thank them nonetheless.

Before the move, I was given the blessed responsibility of cleaning the new house. Now, you should know that the house we moved into was a home that had been foreclosed on. So it wasn't in the best of shape. It had all new paint and carpet and stuff...but it had some serious cleaning to do. Serious. And if you know me at all, you know that cleaning up someone else's dirt, and most horrifically, someone else's urine, feces, hairs, and other disgustingness, is about the worst thing you could ever ask me to do. And this may go down as one of the worst things I have ever done. In fact, I don't even want to talk about it. I am feeling ill. All I can say is, thank goodness for latex gloves!!

What became painfully evident after the scrubbing began was that the home had, at one time, had a rodent problem. A fairly substantial one. We had come across some rodent droppings during the inspection...and discovered that an exterminator had been used to take care of the problem. But we had no clue as to the extent of the problem until we started finding droppings in several other places as well. Needless to say...I wasn't very impressed.

The move-in process was full of such discoveries--finding this was broken...or that...and I couldn't help but wonder if we had just bought a complete lemon!

But now that we have fixed a lot of things, those feelings have subsided, and I am starting to rather like my new home. There is still a TON of work to do to get it where I want it...but I am enjoying the extra space and room. And...don't worry...ne'er a sign of any more rodents.

One particularly interesting discovery for us was learning that the home we had bought was the home of a man who used to be one of VidKid's football coaches, who is actually currently in prison for grand auto theft. That was a nice surprise. There's a lot more to that story that I won't get into...but let's just say, I just keep hoping that nobody shows up here wanting to settle any scores. And let's also say...that sometimes it would be better if you didn't know who the previous owner was. You know...when you find certain...shall we say...."personal items" in the house.

We also discovered that we now live in Little Ukraine. Yes, seems that almost half of the people on our new cul-de-sac are Ukrainian. I'm good with that. They're all super nice. As long as they're not Russian spies...

Christmas/New Year's
Christmas was great! Low-key. For Christmas Day--Just Hamburglar, me, and the kids. We hung out, unpacked, played ping pong, unpacked, rode scooters, unpacked....You get the picture. We had McDonald's for Christmas dinner. How pathetic is that? Very pathetic. But you know what? I might need to make it a tradition. Most low-maintenance Christmas dinner EVER.

We celebrated Christmas Eve with some dear friends, and we celebrated it in a less than traditional way--Feliz Navidad style! The food was scrumpiddlyumptious, the kids loved the pinata--and what better way to celebrate the birth of Jesus, than to break out in a spontaneous Conga line?! Yes, there was Conga...spontaneous Conga at that...there may have been a bit of Cha cha in there as well--and I am not ashamed.

New Year's, on the other hand, was LAME. I officially declare New Year's to be the stupidest, most overrated holiday EVER! Even worse than Labor Day, quite frankly. Maybe it's because I had nothing to do and nowhere to go for New Year's. No parties, no events...just me and the fam. We hung out, played some games, and watched fireworks from our windows. It was fun. But seriously...New Year's is lame. Who's with me?

The naming of the Babe
So, yes...my baby must be named on the blog. It's about time, don't you think? So the name she shall be known as on this blog is.....drumroll......

Wee One.

So original, isn't it? But let me explain...

Turns out, Wee One is...well...wee. After birthing at a healthy 9lbs 6 oz (healthy for her...not my nether regions), she has plummeted in weight and weight growth to the 7th percentile. In four months, she had only gained 2 lbs 2 oz. Seems that she has a bit of reflux...combined with the fact that I am not the lactating machine I used to be. Apparently my teats are duds. Milk Duds. These beautiful bosoms just ain't what they used to be. So we think the poor girl wasn't getting enough milk. After tumultuous efforts at getting her to take a bottle, she finally takes one, so I am feeling much better about that. She has a weight check next week, and I am hoping for some serious gainage. She looks chubbier to me.

And while we're on the subject of Wee One, can I just say, that she is the best thing ever? She is such a good, happy baby. She is my ray of sunshine, and my favorite thing to do is make her smile. My favorite thing she does is pump her left leg to make her bouncy chair bounce. She loves to get that thing a rockin'!

Peace Offerings
We got an offer on our house on Sunday. It was a decent offer, I guess you could say. Not the best...but decent. Could've been worse. We counter-offered...and are waiting to hear back from them on that. I hope they take it. I would love to be done with the whole thing. Who knows what the market is going to do. Part of me thinks we should just hold on to the house and rent it, and sell it when the market picks up. But who knows when, or if, that will happen?! So...if all goes well...we could have that baby sold in the next couple months. But I won't count those chickens before they hatch. But there's hope. At least we know that our house is lovable. That's good for my house's self-esteem. She's been a litle blue lately.

I think that's a pretty good update for now. There are a million other stories I could tell...but who has time? Not me. And not you. Maybe some other day.

I hope you all are doing fantabulous. Now that life has slowed down a bit, I'm hoping to blog a bit more.

Peace Out.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-12-08T22:50:00.000-08:00

1. Dear fellow pre-school parents: Is it really that hard to fit your car in between the two painted lines? Really? There are only so many spots. Just because you think you and your child are special does not make it so.

But I am special. I, with my newborn in tow, am very special indeed. I deserve a close spot. Don't I?

2. It's December. You know...the month of hell. The month when I decided to birth 3 of my 4 babies. 3 birthday parties. Two down, 1 to go. Oh--and throw in moving and Christmas in there too.

3. Speaking of moving...I am in complete denial that it is happening. Complete denial. I am living in some type of la-la land. We are moving within a week--barring any unforeseen circumstances (which will probably arise). I have yet to start packing a thing. Why? Well, I tell myself that I haven't started packing yet because I am scared if I do, then someone will come to see the house, and I'll find myself in a big mess. I tell myself that. But really, let's face it. I just don't want to do it. And, like I said, I'm in denial. I'm having a hard time imagining myself living anywhere but where I am.

We still don't have a Christmas tree, or any other Christmas decoration up for that matter. It just doesn't feel like Christmas. I hear the Christmas songs on the radio, and see the Christmas lights, and I can't figure out what is going on. I really am living in a time warp of some sort.

4. Showing your house sucks. My house has shown now 6 times over the last month. That's actually more times than I thought it would show...considering November is one of the slowest months of the year when it comes to real estate. But still no takers. I am really tired of hearing "your house showed really well, but...." But what? No buts! No buts! I want to hear "your house showed really well, AND we want to buy it!" That's what I want to hear. It'd be a Christmas miracle. A Mr. Krueger's miracle! Not to mention that the house for sale down the street which is essentially identical to ours, just dropped their price by $20,000! Which makes their house $30,000 less than ours! Our house is in way better condition, and is in a better location, but I don't know if I could say that it is $30,000 better. Probably will have to drop the price. Sigh....I better get myself used to the idea of being Mrs. Roper.

5. Hamburglar and I had the kids draw names for Christmas gifts the other day. We expected smiles and thrills and giggles and wet pants of excitement. Sooooo not what happened. Rather, we got weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth over who got whose name...We got whines about how so-and-so gives "bad gifts," etc. It was pathetic. Truly and utterly pathetic. An epic failure of grand proportions. A horrible display of lackluster and poor parenting, to be sure. So we nixed the whole thing. No sibling gifts. It makes me sad. Some people's children! Seriously.

6. I was getting a dental cleaning/checkup the other day, when the dentist proceeded to ask me if I "ripped" during childbirth. She (yes, thankfully she is a "she") then went on to question who ever thought it was a good idea to labor laying down, and with drugs. Of course, she has no children. She has never birthed. She has never felt the pain of childbirth. And yet she was lecturing the hygienist and me about the stupidities of today's obstetrical medicine, and how it must have been a man who thought of these things, etc. I really wanted to say "Look lady....there are some orifices you know nothing about. So stick to the orifice you specialize in, and leave the motherland orifice to someone else." So not what I wanted to be thinking about while she had her hands and tools inside my mouth.

Relapse

2010-12-02T15:02:00.000-08:00

So I fell off the bandwagon over Thanksgiving break. Fell hard. I've been sober for over a year. But the allure of the drug was too much to resist. I gave in. I was weak.

That's right. I played Guitar Hero. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I was born this way. Guitar Heroine is in my blood. I look at these hands...these beautiful, stubby hands and know that I can't resist the magic that they make. I am sorry. I've been hiding my talents under a bushel. And I will not deny the world, (and myself), of their glories any longer. If that makes me a horrible person, then so be it. I am a horrible, despicable human being. Who ROCKS the Guitar Hero like its never been rocked before. (But not RockBand. I suck at RockBand. Don't ask me why..it's a mystery.)

The Facebook Hook

2010-12-02T14:45:00.000-08:00

Facebook. You love it or you hate it. Or in my case, you both love and hate it.

I love it because it has enabled me to reconnect with old friends from yesteryear. It's fun to check in with them, see what they're up to, and look at pictures of their kids and make sure that they're homelier than mine.

I hate facebook because of the people who use it as their forum to vent their personal problems and affairs. And when I say "affairs" I mean it quite literally. It's no secret that Facebook has opened the door to reunited and reignited loves and connections. I am not sure why anyone would think it a good idea to start facebook chatting and stalking with an old boyfriend or girlfriend. Sorry if you do. I, for one, think it's a bad idea. I have no old boyfriends on facebook, and nor will I. Not wise. I will, however, admit that I have stumbled across the blogs of a couple old boyfriends' family members. Not too hard to do if you have mutual friends. The blogosphere is full of all sorts of webbed interconnections. And I may or may not have looked at those blogs. And I may or may not have noted how much cuter I am than their wives. I will neither confirm nor deny that. I will confirm, however, that I have not looked at the blogs since. But I digress. Back to facebook.

Don't get me wrong...I enjoy a good facebook stalk as much as the next guy. The things you can learn about a person from facebook are truly AMAZING. Shocking, really. But I don't know what possesses people to think that they should air all their dirty laundry out on facebook. You've got man problems? Fine. Don't we all at times? I don't want to hear about yours. You've got ex problems? I'm sorry. Call me on the phone if you want to vent. Don't lay it out there for all 300 of your "friends" to read about. Is there nothing sacred? No privacy? Why don't you do what I do, and instead of writing it on facebook for your "friends" to see, you can write about it on your blog--"anonymously," for an unlimited number of people in the world to see?? So much better that way.

Seriously, though. A little class, people. A little class. Is that asking too much?

Now, where were we? Back to our toilet paper discussion...

What the ? Wednesday!

2010-11-10T08:19:00.000-08:00

1. So I'd like to beat Moose A. Moose from Nick Jr. For those without preschoolers, he is kind of the "host" of Nick Jr, and does little ditties in between shows...you know...your typical childhood propaganda. Apparently, he has successfully brainwashed Big Red into thinking that if you waste power, you are eeeeevil.

Yesterday, someone came to see the house (more on that later), and before I left the house for it to be shown, I turned all the lights on...you know, to make it look nice and bright and light and cheery-like. This was all while Big Red was in preschool. Well, when Big Red and I returned home a few hours later, and he saw all the lights on, he went into a complete fit. He was mad at me, repeatedly telling me "I don't like you, Mom, because you waste power!" It was quite horrible.

Damn that Moose A. Moose.

2. So last night, due to our fabulous procrastination skills, Wonderella, VidKid, and I found ourselves skitting about trying to complete the requirements for their PTA "Reflections" contest entries due today. Since each of them had chosen to do a photography entry, and we did not even have photos developed, we found ourselves in WalMart at the one-hour photo booth at 8:00 at night. While killing some time, we perused the store, and happened upon the bins of Halloween costumes discounted at 90% off. Well, never one to pass up a 90% off deal, I did a little searching of items in the bins, but quickly became disturbed by the short, middle-aged, Asian man who was snatching all the fishnet stockings out of the bins. He seriously had like 10 pairs. What could a man such as he possibly need so many fishnet stockings for? I don't know. And I shudder to think. Needless to say, I got the aitch out of there.

3. So, as I mentioned, someone came by to see the house yesterday. Yay, right?! Yes, yay. But a big, fat NAY on the 25 minute notice I had to get the house spiffed up for their arrival. I was literally running from one thing to the next. I was throwing dirty laundry and garbage in my car....it was awesome, and pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. And I do. I really did already have the house in pretty good shape, but had gotten a little lazy that morning, because I really didn't figure anyone would be coming any time in the near future. Well, sweating and out of breath, I got out of there at 1:15 on the dot (which was their supposed arrival time), and then drove down the street to watch it all go down. And there, I waited and waited. And waited. 25 minutes later, they showed up. And for all of those 25 minutes, I kept thinking of all the things I could have cleaned in those 25 minutes. I was making a mental checklist, wondering--did I take that garbage out? Did I straighten up the closets? Did I wipe the toilet seat down? Oh well. Supposedly, according to the agent, the showing went well, and they were very impressed with how clean the house was--especially with 4 small children. Well, thank you. The house always looks like that. Of course, I guess the showing didn't go well enough, because I haven't heard anything back since. Oh well. At least someone wanted to come see it, right?

4. Why does Hamburglar have to be out of town during the days the kids are out of school? Seriously. I think he plans it on purpose.

5. A little while back, I went to the doctor to get what I thought was a relatively simple procedure done. And what was the first thing the nurse asked me? "On a scale of 1 to 10, what is your level of pain tolerance?" Ummmm.....excuse me? Uh oh. Get me the hell outta here!

After having the procedure done now, I can see why they ask that. It was more painful than I thought it was going to be. Lucky for me, I have a pretty high level of pain tolerance...though for a few brief moments, I thought I might die. It was almost as painful as watching Celine Dion sing. Almost.

What is your level of pain tolerance?

Oooooh, Life...It's Bigger

2010-11-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

Why, hello again. It is I, Kamilli. Back after a prolonged absence. Why have I been absent, you ask? Well, that's none of your business...I don't reveal anything personal about myself on this blog...Obviously. No personal stories, bowel habits, etc. Nope, not here. Never.

I will, however, share with you some random happenings and thoughts going through my head.

1. I survived another football season! Yee Haw!! This season was much easier than last, seeing as Hamburglar was an assistant coach, and therefore he was the one attending all the practices--not me. So, I got to stay home with 3 other screaming, needy children while he got to play football outside. I'm not sure how that is a win for me, but I convinced myself it was. Once again, VidKid's team went undefeated, and are league champions. Yessss! The poor kids though...they don't know what it's like to be losers.

2. I survived a potluck yesterday. A church potluck to be exact. And you know what? There were actually some tasty morsels there to partake of, though I was quite selective in my sampling, I can assure you. But here I am, still alive and kicking. And no gastrointestinal issues either. No PIDS (Potluck-Induced Diarrhea Syndrome). Although, I do have to wonder if PIDS is an airborne ailment, because my baby (who is yet to be named on this blog--at least post-utero baby has not been named), had the biggest blowout EVER while we were there. It was everywhere...all over her carseat, her clothes, blanket, etc. It was awesome. Seriously...how does baby poo travel so far?

3. I don't know how much longer I can handle living with these idiots in the state of Washington. Seriously. What the hell is wrong with these people? They had the grandest of all opportunities--after 18 years, to send dear Senator Patty Murray packing. And what do they do? They re-elect her! Something to do with not wanting Washington to lose its seniority in the senate. What? Patty was just a vote for the Democrats. End of story. Consistently ranked as one of the most ineffective Senators in the Senate. But whatever. Yeah, in the financial nightmare we are in, don't elect the successful businessman. Don't elect the man, who as a state senator, successfully balanced the budget without raising taxes. Yeah, don't elect him. Elect the "mom in tennis shoes," as she likes to call herself. Well, Patty those are some damn big, ugly tennis shoes that have been kicking me in my arse for the past decade. I'm ready for a man in some penny loafers. But I guess we'll have to wait another SIX bloody years for that to happen. Ugh. My only consolation is that California is even dumber than we are. They get a chance to elect two smart, successful businesswomen, and they go for Babs Boxer and Jerry Brown instead? What are you thinking? And they weren't even high when they did it--because they didn't even legalize marijuana while they were at it!

4. We're moving. There. I said it. Now before anyone gets too excited, as the crow flies, we're moving all of 1 block away. So it's a real big change, as you can see. I've been wanting to move for awhile, and I think this fourth child, combined with ridiculously low interest rates has pushed me over the edge. Soooo...we're moving. After looking at some places closer to Hamburglar's work, and others we deemed as perhaps "nicer" areas to live, we decided to just stay where we're at. We're happy here. We have dear friends here. And let's face it--I don't want to make new ones. I'm horrible at that. And I just don't want to. I am change-averse, you could say. I don't want to have to make new connections with school, sports, church, etc. It's one thing to move away when you get a new job or something. But to CHOOSE to move away from what I know was something I just couldn't do. I had to laugh, because Hamburglar told me today, that now that we are moving, he can "engage" with others now. Before, he always felt we were here temporarily, but now he feels it a bit more semi-permanent (though NOT permanent--this will not be my final resting place). So NOW he can engage? We've only lived here 10 years! Oh, men....

So, our house is on the market, but sell it or not, we are moving into our new one. I am not overly-optimistic that it will sell...but we will try. And if, after a few months, there are just no bites or takers, then we will rent it out. And I will be a landlady. Just like Mrs. Roper.

I am not looking forward to trying to keep my house clean in case anyone wants to come and see it. I did it the whole last week, and guess what? NO ONE came and saw it! I'm going to have this clean house FOR WHAT? Heaven knows I don't just keep a clean house for the heck of it!

We're Off to See the Wizard

2010-10-25T21:20:00.001-07:00

Any of you guys ever watch Dr. Oz? I DVR the show every night. Sometimes I watch, sometimes I don't. I find it interesting for the most part, and I get a real kick out of how all the women go gaga over him. It's quite hilarious. I love how they all want to hug and kiss him, and especially like it when they tell him how handsome he is. I like watching middle-aged women make fools of themselves. It makes me feel better about myself.

Anyhow, the other day he did a segment on a non-invasive weight loss procedure. There's a new technique where they actually freeze the fat off you. It takes several treatments, and several months, but apparently freezing the fat cells in your body will make them die and be absorbed into the body. It's typical for people to lose 1-3 inches by this procedure. It's not something to treat obesity..but is supposedly good for people who just have those problem areas they can't quite nip (and tuck) in the bud.

I think I'm going to bed with a bag of peas tonight.

You can watch the video segment here:

A member of the studio audience volunteers to freeze away her belly bulge. A non-invasive, non-surgical procedure called Zeltiq kills off fat cells...

Pap Rally

2010-09-30T11:33:00.000-07:00

So I had my 6 week postpartum checkup the other day. Pretty much like any other gyno exam. Everyone's favorite day of the year. Simply fabulous.

Except, this time was a little different, since I decided to take my wee one with me, and she was less than cooperative. She fussed and cried the entire time. And, at the risk of giving you all nightmares, I would like to paint this picture for you: Me. On the examination table. Naked. Well, in my beautiful, stylish gown. Leaking milk. Sweating to death. Sticking to the paper on the table. (What is it with those exam rooms? So hot! Or maybe I'm just stressed and nervous.) Holding crying baby. Nurse practictioner doing whatever it is she does. Down there.

Doesn't that just sound wonderful?

Well, it was. So very, very wonderful.

After she was done the pelvic exam, the baby had had quite enough, so in an attempt to hurry, but not wanting to neglect her medical duties, she asked, "Do I need to examine your breasts? Your breasts are OK?" To which I replied, "My breasts are great!" Ummm...that kind of came out wrong. What I should have said, and what I really wanted to say, was--to quote Seinfeld--"They're spectacular!"

At least...after I pick them up off the exam table.

Which reminds me of a funny story I'd like to share. I hope my brother won't mind me sharing this story. When he was in medical school, during his OB/Gyn rotation, he and a group of other med students were being taught and trained on how to do pelvic exams. Which--another interesting tidbit--did you know there are actual people who are trained and taught how to be guinea pigs for pelvic exams? They are the people who the med students learn and practice on and they coach the students on what to do, how to do it, etc. I know! What a job that would be! I so hope they are paid very, very well.

Anyhow, one of my brother's classmates begins the pelvic exam, and what does he say to the guinea pig/trainer lady? "Does that feel good?" Of course, he meant, "Is that right? Does that feel like it should? Am I doing that the right way?" But that's not what he said. He asked her if it felt good!!!

I hope I can speak for all womankind, when I say that no.... no, it does not feel good. Not even the picture of cute, fluffy kittens on the ceiling can change that.

What the Aitch Wednesday?!

2010-09-22T09:05:00.000-07:00

1. Brace yourselves for this one. I read in the paper yesterday that several local school districts (not my school district, thankfully), have decided to nix their no-lice policy. They've decided that if your kid has lice, they want him to come to school. They'd rather he come, and potentially share it with others, than stay at home, because they want him there learning. They think staying home from school is more damning than coming to school with lice. Their reasoning is so brilliant, and I quote "No one dies from head lice. No one even gets sick from head lice." Ummm...I think I just might die if I got lice. I just might. And I would definitely get sick. I'd definitely need medication.

True story--my aunt needed valium when her kids got head lice.

What are they thinking? Do they know the craziness this will cause? I am so disturbed by this, I can't even tell you.

2. And speaking of schools, I hate school fundraisers. Hate them. I especially hate the assemblies these companies do with the kids--seducing them with their cheap Chinese-made toys (is there such a thing as a non-Chinese toy?) and glories. I seriously think that parents should have to sign a permission slip for kids to attend those things.

I realize schools are in a tough spot. They don't get a lot of funding. PTAs pick up a lot of slack for the "extras." Oh, how I'd love to get my grubby little hands on state budgets all across this great land and slash all sorts of extravagant and useless and ridiculous spending so that there was a little more for schools. I know they want more money. But is turning our kids into mini-salesmen the ideal solution?

Not that more money would be the solution for all that ails our schools these days. Throwing more money at the problem isn't going to solve it. It goes a lot deeper. For starters, families and parents who don't give a rat's arse about what is going on with their kids and their kids' education. I could go on...but I don't even want to get started.

3. The Hoff got voted off "Dancing With the Stars" last night. NOOOOO! Not the Hoff! The cheesy entertainment factor of this season has just dramatically plummeted. Why do bad things happen to good people?

4. What's up with all the birthdays in September? There is apparently a whole lotta lovin' going on in the month of December. Lots of gift-giving happening. My kids have been invited to sooo many birthday parties this month. VidKid alone was invited to three separate birthday parties for this Saturday alone. Not to mention the other ones this month. Oh, why do my kids have to be so popular?

And speaking of kids' birthday parties, what happened to the days you could invite your friends over, play a round or two of pin the tail on the donkey, take a go at the pulse-raising game of musical chairs, maybe do a scavenger hunt, have some cake, and send them home with a goodie bag? Where, oh where, have those days gone? Now, we gotta go skating or play laser tag, or, I know--go to a bouncy house place (aka hell on earth), or swimming, or bowling, or indoor footballing. Not that there's anything wrong with that. They're fun. It's just a lot of money and effort to celebrate a child's birth. That's all. But of course, you're talking to the woman who once gave her two year old son a Costco chocolate muffin in lieu of a birthday cake.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother

2010-09-21T12:05:00.000-07:00

You know, they always say there is nothing more powerful than the love of a mother. I believe this to be true...but feel that there is one thing that might rival the power of the love of a mother. And that is the guilt of a mother.

These last few weeks of adjusting to four chiluns has been interesting to say the least. I look at my sweet little infant baby--so young and pure, and practically a blank slate. A life just waiting for me to mold and teach...and ultimately ruin.

I look at Wonderella, my eldest, and see how she is like me in so many ways--for better or for worse--and feel incredible guilt at the ways I am sure I have emotionally scarred her. I know I smother her. Which, thanks to the show Modern Family, I learned is not my fault. Because "mother" is part of the word "smother." Nobody ever has been "sfathered" to death.

I recently realized my time with Wonderella at home is half over. She is almost 10. She only has another 9 years or so before she leaves the roost and heads off on her own. I'm half-way done with raising her. That's pretty scary. I really want to make the latter half of my time with her at home better than the first. I've played a major role in turning her into a bright, funny, witty, amazing girl. But I've also helped turn her into a sarcastic, defensive, sassy girl. Sometimes I adore those qualities in her. Sometimes...let's just say....not so much. I can only hope I haven't ruined her life...too much. Nothing a few years of therapy can't fix.

I feel bad for oldest children. I mean, I guess no matter where you fall in the family birth order, you've got your crosses to bear. The middle children are the forgotten ones. The ones who get lost in the shuffle. The youngest are the neglected ones. Yes, they may get spoiled a bit, but they can't find a baby photograph of themselves to save their lives (Believe me, I've tried) ! They're the children of hand-me-downs and low expectations. But the oldest--they are the children of high expectations. They're the guinea pigs. Parents are just figuring stuff out with their first--just hoping they don't cause too much irreparable damage in the process. We're hard on our oldest. We expect too much out of them and think of them as being older than they really are. I know my mother is especially sensitive to this, and constantly is reminding me not to be so hard on Wonderella. And I need the reminding.

A few weeks ago, I was struggling with a decision on whether or not to involve myself with a position in local politics. It was a tough decision, because it was something I think I wanted to do, but could not get myself excited about doing. And I think the reason why is because I have determined that I am already doing too many things in my life at a half-arse level. I do not wish to add any more mediocrity to my life. Why add one more thing to be mediocre at? I don't need more guilt. I need to figure out this motherhood thing first--before I take on any other roles. Although I'm not sure I'll ever figure motherhood out. I mean, I've been at it for 10 years now. How long could it possibly take?

So that's my goal. This new babe has reminded me that I need to work harder (and some days, it is incredibly hard labor) at being a better, kinder, more patient and loving mother.

Even so, I know my daughters will still blame all their problems on me.

Book Sm"arse"

2010-09-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

So, I meant to blog about this in August, and well...life got a little out of control for me. As you might imagine...birthing and all. It has to do with the back-to-school supplies that are now required of students. Back in my day...we just showed up to elementary school with the clothes on our backs. At least that's how I remember it. Maybe not. Maybe my mother had to buy crayons and glue and pencils and stuff. I don't recall. Wasn't paying attention. In my own world. But I know we definitely did not bring hand sanitizer, which is the norm these days, since it obviously had not been invented yet--or at least marketed yet. And we definitely did not have to bring toilet paper. Yes, that's right....toilet paper. Apparently some school districts are so hurting for money and supplies, they are asking students to bring in packs of toilet paper! Can you believe it? Can't even count on your school supplying enough butt wipe for the kids! Talk about misplaced funding. Toilet paper should be one of the first things a school should fund! Right after condoms, ESL, and diversity-awareness programs, of course.

I read about these requests for toilet paper in the newspaper, and couldn't quite believe it...but then I saw a WalMart back-to-school ad a few days later listing its specials on back-to-school essentials, and the photos of the toilet paper were the biggest--right next to the pencils and glue. Craziness!

Now, on the plus side, I am thinking that the toilet paper that the students bring would actually be better than the one-ply crap that we all know and detest is in the schools. We know no self-respecting arse would wipe itself with that junk. Most families would probably show up with some 2-ply version--perhaps not our beloved Charmin, which we've discussed at length is high on softness and low on butt lint--but I'm confident they'd show up with some half-decent toilet paper. Which means the kids' butts are probably a lot happier in those schools.

And like I always say, a happy butt makes a happy learner.

Babe

2010-08-24T10:00:00.000-07:00

So, I birthed. It is finished. I think I have birthed for the last time. And quite frankly, it feels great. (To be done birthing...not the actual birthing.)

I won't go into all the gory (and believe me--they are gory!) details of the labor and delivery. Suffice it to say--I'm glad it's over with. Check! And as has become custom after my vacations from life, I would like to share some of the insights I gained from my birthing/hospital experience--because it is a vacation of some sorts...you know...sleeping in a "hotel," getting room service, having someone take care of my every need--from getting me water to bringing me drugs, to wiping my arse for me, etc. It was kind of a vacation from reality.

1. There is a special place in heaven for nurses. There really is. How they can do some of the things they do is beyond me. I guess someone's gotta. And I'm sure they find it rewarding. I mean, who wouldn't find spraying someone's nether regions down with water rewarding? Who? I know it all becomes second nature to them, and they've seen it all before...but I don't know if I could ever get accustomed to that kind of stuff. Nope, I am pretty sure I could not.

I had really great nurses--all of them. Especially the nurse who was with me through the labor and delivery. She was so sweet and nice. And she is my neighbor! She said she'd come visit me one of these days. If she can't recognize my face...I'll pull my pants down and see if she can recognize me from my other end. I am sure it has some distinguishing features that really sets itself apart from all the other ones she sees every day.

2. All pride is checked at the hospital door. Birthing is an "out of body" experience. It really is. To sit there with your motherland up in the air for all to see, pushing and pulling and doing all sorts of strange things is just plain craziness. You just gotta go to another place in your mind.

3. I believe that men also experience a "veil of forgetfulness" after childbirth. Much has been said of mothers undergoing some type of post-birthing amnesia that allows them to have more than one child. Women somehow miraculously forget all the discomforts of pregnancy and childbirth--enabling them to get suckered into having more kids. I believe this to be quite true.

But I also believe that men must also undergo this forgetfulness. Because, I am quite sure if they were to allow the images of the unspeakable horrors they see during childbirth and the subsequent recovery to remain in their heads, they would not be willing participants in the activity required to conceive a child in the future. I believe it probably takes about 6 weeks for this forgetfulness to reach its peak--which is, conveniently, the amount of time the woman is to abstain from such extracurricular activities. It is all by divine design. So if the man is pushing for some lovin' before 6 weeks' time has elapsed, then obviously he was not grossed out quite enough.

4. Epidurals are delightful. Dee-Light-Ful. I really don't know why women birth without one. While in labor, I could hear another woman down the hall screaming her lungs out. Screaming bloody murder, she was. It was horrible. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of it. I just remember feeling bad for her in her misery...as I sat in my bed having a grand ol' time, with contractions I couldn't even really feel. There is a part of me that feels bad that I will probably never know what it feels like to have a baby totally au natural....but that part of me is very small...and shrunk to almost non-existence after listening to that woman. I'm quite confident now that I'm not really missing much at all. So hats off to the anesthesiologists out there--including my brother and uncle. My uncle jokes that he's had babies named after him because of the joy he's brought to mothers' lives. I believe it!

5. Big babies are a little harder to birth than smaller babies. Yes, at 9 lbs 6 oz, my girl was a bit of a chunk for me. We all were a little surprised at her girth. She has rolls already! I love it! Even though my motherland may not.

6. Nursing sucks at first. Quite literally. And figuratively. That is all.

7. Who knew that the worst part of the whole labor/delivery would be the pricks and prodding? Honestly, the most painful part of the process was getting the I.V. in (it took 4 attempts, 3 nurses, and gallons of my precious blood before they got one that stuck), getting the placement of the epidural (not enough local anesthetic), and the tetanus shot I got before I left!! It was all the pokey things that hurt the most. Which is ironic, since it was messing around with pokey things that got me into this mess in the first place!

8. It was love at first sight when they laid her on my flabby, doughy belly after she was born. I had forgotten how sweet newborns are. They really are. So sweet and innocent and little. I am going to try and really savor every minute with my wee one, because she will grow so quickly, and I'm sure she's my last one. During one of these sweeter moments with her, I had a thought that maybe I might want to have another one some day. But, thankfully, she started screaming right after that and brought me back to reality. So that was a fleeting thought. But she is incredible and amazing (I'm already pretty sure she's gifted), and we adore her and are so glad she's here.

And now...I think I must take a nap.

What the Aitch Wednesday?!

2010-08-11T13:24:00.000-07:00

1. Harry Reid says he doesn't "know how anyone of Hispanic heritage could be Republican." Say what, Harry? Really? That's the card you're going to play? Go for it. Let me know how that works out for you.

I guess we should just be grateful he's not going on about fair-skinned black people without "Negro dialects" and stuff like that like he usually does when speaking of racial issues.

I'm so embarrassed this man is L.D.S.

2. More amateur hour in the White House. Michelle Obama's extravagant trip to Spain. Yeah, the Obamas are really in touch with America these days, aren't they? They are feeling the financial pain and strain... I can tell.

3. At my last OB visit, while the doctor was measuring my belly, she commented that my stretch marks "could be worse." Yeah, I guess they could be worse. But they could be a helluva lot better, too! She went on to tell me about some of the worst ones she's seen. I think she was trying to make me feel better...but it didn't really work. And to those of you who are blessed with great genes that make it possible for your bellies to stretch to Timbuktu and back with ne'er a mark or line...I hate you.

4. The mosque at Ground Zero. What the aitch? Of course, it seems they should have the right to build it, barring any evidence of terrorist financial ties or connections...but do they really think they're winning over any friends by doing it? Just cuz you can do something doesn't mean it's a good idea. Is it not just a blatant smack in the face? I was watching Greg Gutfeld last night, and I thought he had an interesting proposal. Since the Cordoba House (those behind building the mosque) are saying they want to build this mosque there to open up communication, integration, and tolerance, Gutfeld thinks that maybe someone should build an Islam-friendly gay bar right next to the mosque and see if it helps build communication and tolerance between Muslims and gays. Since the Muslim community is such a tolerant group. I think he may be on to something. The bar would serve 72 virgin drinks. He also had some great names for the bar:

You Mecca Me Hot
Suspicious Packages
Heaven and Halal
JiHot
JiHunk
Infidelicious
Turban Cowboy

Now, before anyone gets their panties in a bunch over this, know that Greg Gutfeld is not being malicious or homophobic. He seeks only to point out the hypocrisy of the Cordoba Institute in their desire to build this mosque/community center so close to where 3000 Americans were murdered...by Muslims. Of course, the Muslims would find the gay bar offensive. I wouldn't blame them. I wouldn't want a gay bar, or any bar for that matter, next to my church or temple. I'd find it offensive. Do they not see how their mosque might be offensive to 9/11 families? How does this help foster neighborliness and respect? They're seeking tolerance and communication? I think not.

Apparently, when Gutfeld tweeted the Cordoba House about this proposal, their response was "You're free to open whatever you like. If you won't consider the sensibilities of Muslims, you're not going to build dialog." Hmmmm....Sounds like they could listen to their own advice.

Totally 80s Tuesday!

2010-08-10T09:41:00.001-07:00

For today's Totally 80s Tuesday, I pay tribute to one of the finest of 80s movies which has recently experienced a bit of a revival due to a re-make. Of course, I speak of Karate Kid--and more specifically, Karate Kid II.

This is a great movie, but of course, it doesn't hurt that the theme song is sung by none other than Mr. Peter Cetera himself. And when you've seen him sing this song live and in person--in a smoking robe and ascot--while using a microphone stand as a sword...well, that's when you know you're really alive.

So here's the video. Check it out. Anyone else think that Peter looks like Ann Murray in this video? Love the hair. And anyone else notice how Mr. Cetera barely opens his mouth to sing? He's got some smooth moves, ExLax.

Enjoy. And remember: We did it all for love.

The Whole Fam Damily

2010-08-09T06:04:00.001-07:00

So a few weeks ago, all of my immediate family came out here to the great state of Washington for a family reunion. I call Washington state great--but only for its beauty, weather, and abounding recreation. Make no mistake about it--there are a buttload of idiots in Washington state. Namely, the people who keep electing Patty Murray to the Senate. We're hoping we can turn things around this year. But I digress...

I appreciated the family coming all the way out here from NYC, Texas, and Utah--to accommodate me and my belly. We headed off to the Olympic Peninsula of Washington--home to a diverse geographical area--with rain forests, glacier-capped mountains, and wild, open seas for some sight-seeing and good old-fashioned family time. It was fun to all be together again and to see each other.

We did a variety of things. There were snowball fights at the top of the mountains. And there were sandcastles on the beach. And there were strolls through the rain forest, and crabs caught from the dock. Oh--and I can't forget to mention that there was a drive through Forks...the setting of Twilight. Not that I really cared. I may be the only Mormon woman left who hasn't read one of the books, and I have only seen the first movie (which I laughed all the way through). No offense to you Twihards. I just ain't one of them.

On our last evening together, we played a fun game called "What's Yours Like?" And yes, it's as fabulous as it sounds. I thought it was a fun game that could easily turn sassy--an inevitability in my family--so needless to say, it was a good time. What's mine like? All I can say is during the game it was revealed that mine's tight...and I'm pretty sure mine have been caressed by a Mexican. Of course, I was speaking of my jewelry...and my bedroom walls, respectively. What did you think I was talking about?

I could be wrong, but I don't think anyone cried at this reunion (excluding children, of course), so I consider that a smashing success. Family, if I am wrong on that one--keep it to yourselves and leave me to my blissful ignorance.

And speaking of children, as usual, all the kids were turds and wreaked havoc galore. I'm pretty sure our next family get-together will not involve the children. Adults-only Caribbean cruise again, anyone? And I'm pretty sure my spot as the "mean mom" and "mean aunt" of the family is a solid and secure one for now. So I've got that going for me. I'd like to blame it on the hormones....but I don't know if that would really be true. It was the PITS (Pregnancy-induced Tourette Syndrome) kicking in in high gear. Yes, that's it. I'm gonna take that and run with it while I can. Only a week or so left! I better make the best of it!

Football Season...Already??

2010-08-02T04:18:00.000-07:00

So football season is gearing up. First practice today. I am hoping I can survive another season. Last season was barely bearable--my saving grace was having one of my dear Sarahs to bear the burden with...and the fact that our team kicked some major arse. But it was a long, cold, wet season. This year--no Sarah, no kick-arse team....and a newborn baby to haul around in the cold to boot. BUT--on the plus side, I think the coaches will be a little more mild than last year's. I don't expect quite as much yelling and aggression. I hope I'm right on that one.

So, you remember how I told you that VidKid's previous football team's clique of "mamas" somehow came up with the theory that Hamburglar had a drinking problem? Well, last Saturday, he just provided more fodder for them to question his integrity and moral character. Since they are the pinnacles of moral excellence themselves. They, with their drinking and partying on school property.

He and VidKid were in line to pick up VidKid's football gear, and VidKid wanted to take a look at my new phone (which Hamburglar had on him because he somehow thinks it is his new phone...because it's cooler than his). Anyhow, VidKid wanted to check out some You Tube videos, so Hamburglar let him take it and wasn't really paying attention to what VidKid was doing with it. Well, next think he knows, there is some sort of "moaning" coming from the phone, and, it being a new phone, he could not figure out how to make it stop. He couldn't turn the volume off, he couldn't get to the right app ...the moaning kept going and going. It wasn't porn...but it sure sounded like it.

So....now all the football moms not only think Hamburglar has a drinking problem, but he also has a porn problem. Obviously...can't even keep himself under control around the children.

Fabulous.

I wish we cared about his reputation with these folks. But we don't. We just don't.

The River in Egypt

2010-07-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

So I'm down to 2 1/2 weeks til D-Day. It has completely sneaked up on me. There is still so much to do, and I don't want to do any of it. Get the crib out. Get the car seat out. Wash the baby clothes. Find a name for the baby. That last one on the list is the most pressing on my mind. As of now, this kid is still nameless....with no real possibilities in the works. We may be leaving the hospital with "Baby Vanilli" printed on the birth certificate. Either that, or maybe "Brunhilda."

I am still in denial that this baby thing is really happening. It is still completely unreal to me. I have fooled myself into thinking that this pregnancy with its cankles and sleepless nights is just a minor inconvenience I am experiencing...with no real BABY at the end of it. Don't get me wrong--I am not dreading having the baby (besides the labor and the pooping on the delivery table part)--I just haven't come to grips with it totally yet. I know that once I have the baby in my arms, I will fall in love and not be able to imagine how life ever went on without her. But for now, I am still in denial. And to be honest, I am mourning the loss of my family as it currently stands--with me, Hamburglar and our 3 chiluns. Mourning the loss of Big Red as my baby. Mourning the loss of a lot of my own freedom and independence. I think it's all part of the process. I've done it with every kid I've had. The change is exciting, but there is still a small part of me that gets a little sad when I think about our family being different than it is now. And then I think about episiotomies, and stretch marks, and loose, flabby skin, and breastfeeding and sore boobs and I get even sadder.

But then I think of the sweet smell of a newborn and snuggling with their gushy bodies in their soft little sleepers and being blessed with another spirit so fresh from heaven and I forget all those other things. This life is about learning and growing--and most importantly--loving. So one more person to love more than myself is a great thing.

Even if it means my bosoms reach my belly button.

What the Hell Wednesday?!

2010-07-07T06:33:00.000-07:00

My weekly Wednesday rant.

1. At about 11pm, Wonderella came into my bedroom the night before last saying that she had knocked her loose tooth even looser. Annoyed at her for not being asleep when she had a track and field camp that began the next morning, I told her to go to bed--with ne'er a thought for the implications this loose tooth might bring. Well, the next morning, when I woke Wonderella up, she showed me that her tooth had fallen out, and exclaimed, "I confirmed something! The Tooth Fairy is not real. My tooth fell out, I put it under my bed....and there's no money! She's a fake."

Now, a better mom would've come up with some excuse for the Tooth Fairy...she was on vacation for the 4th of July....she was sick....she has PMS....she didn't work after 11pm. Something. But not me. No, I just said "Shhhh...that's a secret. Now that you know, you can't ruin it for the rest of the kids." And that was about it. Not even an attempt at preserving her childhood for perhaps a tooth or two more. How lame am I? I guess I just have to accept that she is in fact growing up.

So last night, in a bit of a tantrum she was having because I wouldn't let her stall her bedtime any longer, she declared, "And I better still be getting money for my tooth!" Hmmm....I'm debating this, because knowing Wonderella, she'll ruin the Tooth Fairy for the rest of my kids just out of spite and jealousy...even though she's probably racked in a good 20 bucks off the all-too-generous Tooth Fairy. I may have to bribe her silence with a dollar or too more. But then when does it ever stop?

2. Obama makes me ill. I know you tire of hearing me say it--and believe me--I am tired of saying it. But he really does. His 4th of July "speech" was pathetic. Demeaning the Founding Fathers...and displaying a total lack of understanding of what Independence Day is all about. No, to him, it's about civil rights and worker's rights, and women's rights, and minority rights. Interesting take on Independence Day.

3. Neighbor kid pooped her pants in my living room. Like literally pooped them. No diaper. Just a swim suit. Enough said. And people wonder why I don't want random children in my pool??!!

4. I have lost my ankles. I can't find them anywhere. This pregnancy is really doing a number on me. My ankles have always been the one thing I could turn to and say "look--I'm not chubby. I have ankles!" I've always had nice, bony, petite ankles--even when the rest of me wasn't. But no longer. I am swollen from head-to-toe, and now I have cankles. Tree trunk legs. Hillary Clinton legs. It's a sad, sad day, folks. Now there's nothing to turn to to make me feel better about my ever-enlarging body. Nothing but my stash of Cadbury Mini Eggs that I put into emergency storage for just such an occasion.

5. It's going to get in the 90s this week here. I know that doesn't sound like much to most of you--but it's a big deal for the Seattle area. Because it gets muggy...and because very few people have air conditioning. So we melt in the mugginess. And I'm really not looking forward to it. I may just have to plant myself right dab in the middle of the pool for the ENTIRE week. With a baseball bat in my hands to fend off any pesty neighbor kids and/or raccoons.

And thus ends the rant. I can face the day now.

Happy Canuckian Day!

2010-07-01T09:15:00.001-07:00

Happy Canada Day to you and yours.

Over the past couple years, I've blogged about various Canadian performers. Usually in mockery. Like my fine post on Rita McNeil. Truth is, there are a lot of really good Canadian musicians. Michael Buble (llllloooooooovvvvve him), Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, Barenaked Ladies, Sarah McClaghlin, Alanis Morisette, Avril Lavigne, Shania Twain, Leonard Cohen, Crashtest Dummies, Neil Young, kd Lang, Nelly Furtado, to name a few off the top of my head. Oh--can't forget the Roch. Roch Voisine. Or Ann Murray. Or Dan Hill. Of course. How could I forget Dan? Because sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much.

Let me share my current Canadian singer fascination. You may have seen them on a PBS special. Or maybe Oprah. The Canadian Tenors. With a surprise appearance from another famous Canuckian singer.

Not only is the first singer kind of cute, and a nice singer--but he is smart and articulate, and a great athlete too! He played on the U of British Columbia soccer team, and ran with the Canadian team in the PanAmerican Jr Games in track and field. And he still remains humble. Mmm hmmm. Doesn't get better than that.

Perhaps I shall have some poutine (french fries with gravy and cheese curds) and celebrate the day!

Pool Fool

2010-06-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

I've lamented on here before about my general lack of affection for other people's children. It's not that I dislike them. When I look down deep inside myself--sometimes I have to look very, very, very deep down--I know that all little children are lovable, wonderful creatures beloved by their Heavenly Father. I know that. But I also know that they can be obnoxious, annoying, belligerent little turds who like to break stuff. My stuff.

Against all better judgment, we recently purchased one of those above-ground pools for the backyard. Yes, it is now official--we are white trash. It is a fair-sized pool--about 15 feet wide by 42 inches tall. It can hold a lot of people. But just because it can hold a lot of people doesn't mean that I want it to. My biggest fear in making this purchase was not that some child would drown, or that my lawn would die or that a large portion of my backyard would be consumed by a huge, ugly pool. No, my biggest fear was that the pool would become the neighborhood pool--with all sorts of strange and unwelcome children wandering into our yard, or looking longingly over the fence wondering if they could come in too.

My worst fears were realized last night when Hamburglar finally gave in to the kids' demands and started the pool setup process--a process that would take many hours. We were trying to follow directions and do things properly, and our kids, as well as some neighbor kids were in the backyard getting in the way. So we told our kids to go inside, and told the neighbor kids they needed to go home. Most of them did--with the exception of one little 3.5 year old girl who refused to leave. I told her many times that she needed to go. She would whine and then stubbornly declare "NO! I don't want to." And wouldn't budge. She started crying. I looked around desperately for a parent-- a sibling--anyone who would take this child--but there was no one to be found. And since I wasn't going to be able to physically remove her from the yard without causing quite the ruckus, I was left wondering what the heck to do. So she stayed--until about half an hour later when her parents beckoned her home.

Our next door neighbors can see directly into our yard when they are standing on their deck. And if they stand on their playset, they can also see into our yard. So they see everything that happens in our backyard. And it drives me crazy. And it makes me shudder thinking that we're never going to just be able to go out and enjoy ourselves--alone--without them inviting themselves over or looking over the fence longingly--wondering if and when the invitation will come.

Is this what I have to look forward to? All. summer. long? I need help. I need advice on how to handle this. I've told the kids that only certain people are allowed in the pool. And they're only allowed if they're invited. And that sometimes they won't be invited. And that that is the way it will be. This mama is ornery and hot and hormonal. I don't want to be messed with.

I know it sounds harsh--you're probably thinking-- but it's summer! And summer's for playing with friends and being crazy and having fun in the pool! But I feel this way for several reasons:

First, quite simply--I'm a lame mom. Let's face it. I'm no fun. Obviously.

Second, I don't want random neighborhood kids in my pool. I just don't want to deal with them--not to mention I don't want their nether regions in my pool. We've talked about that before as well--in my "Putting the Poo in Pool" post--not wanting to put myself into the same body of water as other people's arses. Kids' arses are not exempt from that. No amount of chlorine will make me feel better about this fact. And don't even get me started on their runny, snotty noses!

Third, I refuse to be responsible for the safety of other random children. Accidents happen. And the more kids in there, the greater the tomfoolery and jacka$$ery, resulting in an increased chance of them happening. Safety first, right?! Right?? Someone throw me a bone here....

I am already regretting this purchase, and the kids haven't even stepped foot into the pool yet. Am I a total buzz-kill or what??!

Some Enchanted Evening

2010-06-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

Father's Day is over. And I survived. Check!

Don't get me wrong. Hamburglar is a great dad. And I am happy to try and make it a nice day for him. It's just exhausting. By the end of the day, after getting up and making a big breakfast for him, lunch, dinner, and trying to keep the kids in line, this pregnant lady was done last night.

It was about 9pm last night, and Big Red was tired and ornery and needed to be put to bed. Hamburglar and I were laying down talking about something, and I could tell he was not getting up too fast to help put him down for the night, so I turned to him and let him know that Father's Day was now over. "It is not called Father's Night...It is Father's Day, and since it is no longer daytime, I hereby declare that it is o---ver. I'm out." I was done. I had tried to take care of him and his kids the best I could.

I think I'm gonna go with that from now on. Once the sun sets, Father's Day is over. I highly recommend it. Of course, it doesn't help that Father's Day is always in mid-June--which means it's always going to fall on one of the longest bloody days of the year. I think it's a mass conspiracy.

How did you celebrate Father's Day? Go ahead--put me to shame and tell me about all the wonderful things you did for your dad or hubby...even after the sun went down!

Not-Luck Potluck

2010-06-14T13:13:00.000-07:00

I have a general rule of life that I try to follow at all times, and that rule is this: Avoid potlucks like the plague.

I'm just not a fan. And what's with the name? There's no luck whatsoever with a potluck. To successfully survive a potluck requires much skill, surveillance, and strategy. If I must attend a potluck, I will only eat things that are store bought, or things that I know are made by people I trust. You know...people who wash their hands and don't stink. It's a general rule of thumb to not eat things made by people who stink.

It's usually a good idea to arrive at a potluck early so you can watch what everyone brings in. Then you know who brought what. Also, I can neither confirm nor deny that I have looked at the bottom of many a pan in the hopes of finding that piece of masking tape with the last name scrawled on it in permanent marker. You know what I'm talking about. If neither of those methods work, then I can always talk to the people around me whose cleanliness levels I trust, and just ask them casually what they brought. Then I can at least put a couple things on my plate and head to Wendy's afterwards.

This last Saturday was Vid Kid's end of the season baseball party at a nearby beach. It was a BBQ, and a couple days beforehand, the coaches passed around signups for the things that people were to bring for the lunch. As I perused the list, I made a mental note of the things I was not going to be eating--based solely on who was bringing them. And I purposely signed up to bring something that I knew I didn't want someone else bringing--namely, a salad. Potato salad.

Reminds me of a time when I was a child, and my father, brothers, and I were at a BBQ. There was a potato salad at the BBQ, and, as a child I didn't like potato salad, so I didn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. But my father and one of my brothers did. And I distinctly recall my father leaning over to my one brother and whispering "The potato salad tastes like death." Perhaps not a minute later, a man at the shindig exlaimed, "Ma, this sure is some damn good tater salad." His Ma replied "Oh, thanks, I just threw it together." Uh, yeah. Apparently. My dad says he can still recall the taste of utter death in his mouth.

It makes me wonder--do things taste differently to people? Since smell, and tastebuds, and a plethora of other things that I don't know anything about come into play with taste--I wonder if some things just taste differently to some people? Is it all a matter of preference? Or do people have a a legitimately different physical reaction to some tastes? Different triggers in their brains? I don't know. It's a question for the ages. How do some things taste so disgustingly horrid to me, and yet others think they're delicious? Like blue cheese. I can't even begin to understand what some people think is good about it. It's all very intriguing to me.

But back to potlucks....

Am I rude, or what? Call me stupid, but I don't want to get food poisoning. Or hair in my food. Or who the heck knows what else in my food. I don't want them licking their fingers or the spoon while they are making their dish. I shudder to think of the kinds of things that go on in people's kitchens. Literally shudder.

It makes me wonder if anyone attends a potluck I'm at and whispers to their children, "Just don't eat anything that Mrs. Vanilli makes." Hmmmm.....Intriguing. Oh well. More for me if they do.

Immeasurable

2010-06-11T12:18:00.001-07:00

My mom has a phrase she says when she is talking to her grandbabies. She calls them "the cuteness of the fatness." A little weird--not sure where it came from. But we all have those strange and odd things we say when we're talking to babies. So since she would say that all the time, I have kind of picked up on it. Sometimes I still think Big Red is a baby (he's still MY baby), and I will come up to him, give him a squish, and say "who's my cuteness of the fatness?"

Well, today, I came up to him and said "who's the cuteness of the fatness?"

Big Red's reply: "Well....I'm the cuteness....you're the fatness."

Ah, yes....let the pregnant fat jokes begin!

Like the time that Wonderella told me that it wasn't just my belly that was growing...but my butt as well. "You must measure that bum, Mom."

Kids.... You gotta love 'em.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-06-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you've all heard or seen the video of Obama talking about having meetings with people regarding the oil crisis, so he can know whose "a$$ to kick."

Ummm...is it just me, or does the use of that word--for public consumption--in an interview--come off as very un-presidential? I'm not one to shudder at the word--heck, I've been known to use it a time or two myself, though I do prefer the use of the word "arse." I have no doubt that most presidents swear to some extent behind the scenes, or in their personal life. But in an interview that you know the entire country will see? Just doesn't come across as very dignified or presidential. And yes, I do hold the President of the United States to a higher standard than the rest of us. I think the day we stop holding him/her to a higher standard (Bill Clinton, anyone?) is the day we lose a lot as a country. So I'm not really cool with it. I don't think it's necessarily a big deal, but I do think it is more evidence of what we already knew: he's not presidential material. Not to mention the fact that leadership isn't about "a$$-kicking" and placing blame. It's about solving problems. Yeah, people need to be held accountable. But the blame-game helps no one right now. So, instead of kicking some a$$, how about we start figuring out how to "plug the damn hole?" (to use another one of Obama's more presidential phrases).

That being said, whose a$$ should we be kicking?

Well, of course, the donkey, or a$$ being the symbol of the Democrat party, I suggest we kick all those a$$es right out of Washington for a start. I'll be starting with my own lovely Senator, Patty Murray.

That's whose a$$ I plan to kick.

How about you?

When You Know You Have a Problem

2010-06-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

Like many people, I have a really hard time choosing names for my babies. Nothing sounds right. There are many names that I think are cute or nice, but I just don't want to name my children with those names. And I've decided that there are far too many people out there who I have a dislike for, as so many names have been ruined by my knowing people with those names who I didn't particularly enjoy. That's my problem. I need to like more people.

I struggled with my other three chiluns' names. Especially the girl names. I mean, Wonderella was not an easy name to come up with, I assure you. VidKid and Big Red were a little easier. Hamburglar and I disagree on names. He likes names that sound whorish to me, and he thinks my names are not feminine enough.

So, there's the background for this story I'm about to share. The family is driving down the road, and I have a baby name book, and Wonderella takes it from me and starts reading off a bunch of names, hoping that we can find one that is just right. She was in the "D" section of the girl names--reading them off--when she paused for a bit, and said "Mom, I think I found a name you are going to loooove." Excited, I asked her what it was.

"Damita," she said. I asked her why I would like that name. She said "Well, if you take off the 'a,' then you have 'dammit,' and that's like your favorite word in the world."

Well played, Wonderella. Well played.

WackJob & WingNut of the Week!!

2010-06-04T08:40:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's been so long since we've done a WackJob and WingNut of the Week! I've been staying out of the political arena for a bit lately (at least on the blog), because it makes me too angry. But I'm sufficiently annoyed right now. So, without further adieu...

WackJob of the Week:
Barack Obama

This man's incompetence shines through almost every single day. Almost every day, I am reminded of just how amateur hour he and his administration are. They can't get anything right. And the way they try to spin crap? Like today's employment numbers. Obama is telling us that a gain of 431,000 public jobs is a sign of economic recovery? Ummmmm...excuse me? Does he think we're stupid?

The answer to that is "yes." Yes, he does think we're stupid. I mean, we were stupid enough to elect the guy.

Does he think we don't realize that adding 431,000 public jobs just means that that is 431,000 more salaries that we, the American public are paying for with our taxes? How in the hell does that help us? And that we don't realize that the majority of those jobs are temporary census jobs? And that we wouldn't realize that only 40,000 private sector jobs added is actually a significant decrease from the previous months' job growth?

But no, he comes out all cheery and optimistic, saying that his trillion-dollar economic recovery plan is working. Working. Unlike 9.7% of American people.

The BP Oil thing...don't even get me started.

The meeting with Arizona governor Brewer for like 10 minutes and basically giving her the ol' brushoff? Obviously he's too busy...rocking out with Paul McCartney. (See below).

The lack of support for Israel in defending itself and its blockade? Weak. Pansy. Unprincipled.

I really wanted to give the guy a chance. I really did. But he's incompetent and arrogant. Isn't it ironic that that is the exact same thing the libs said about Bush?

WingNut of the Week:
Paul McCartney

Ok. This one hurts a bit. Because I like Paul McCartney's music...and I like most Beatles songs. I mean...who doesn't? But the guy's an idiot. And he proved it the other night when he was the recipient of the Gershwin Prize for Popular Song award, presented to him at the White House. When he received the award, he couldn't stop gushing over President Obama. Now, you'd expect him to be gracious and kind, but he was waaaay over the top. He serenaded Michelle Obama with his "Michelle" song of course. And then he made a few comments:

“Getting this prize would just be good enough, but getting it from THIS president…I’m a big fan, he’s a great guy. So lay off him, he’s doing great," Then, speaking to Obama, “You have billions of us who are rooting for you, and we know you’re going to come through.”

Billions? Really? Billions of people are rooting for him? Ummmm....Ok. And he's doing great? Really? Have you seen his polls? The unemployment numbers? The BP oil crisis? And then, if that weren't enough to show his stupidity, at the end of the event, when people were packing up, getting ready to leave, Sir Paul felt the need to take the microphone one last time and thank the Library of Congress for presenting him with the award, and then take this potshot: "After the last eight years, it’s great to have a President who knows what a library is."

Right. Cuz George W. Bush was an idiot, right? That's always the standby insult for him. Right. Cuz Harvard MBAs are really stupid...and I'm sure they never set foot in a library. Not to mention the fact that Laura Bush is a librarian. But no...those Bushes are so stupid and unread. Obviously not as bright and sophisticated as Paul I-Get-High-With-a-Little-Help-From-My-Friends McCartney or B.O. himself.

Paul's obviously free to feel that way, and to fall for that ridiculous caricature of Bush the libs have created of him, but to use his receipt of that award at the White House as a forum to bash Bush? Classless. Tasteless. Utterly pointless and stupid.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised--this coming from a guy who doesn't know what a prenup is.

And wait a damn minute...he's British! Why do we care what he thinks?

The Cup Has Some Water In It

2010-05-27T16:09:00.001-07:00

Any of y'all know what Soroptimists are? (Apologies for my Southern dialect...now that Friday Night Lights is back on, all sorts of Southern phrases have been re-added to my vocabulary.)

A couple months ago, I was invited to attend a Soroptimist brunch fundraiser. I was invited because a friend of mine has a friend who is a soroptimist who had bought a couple tables at the brunch and had invited some ladies to join her --a girls' morning out...if you will.

Well, never one to pass up on a free brunch, I agreed to attend with my friend. We arrived to find a lot of estrogen flowing through the room--seriously, my bosoms may have grown a cup size in just the short time we were there. We had brunch, (I passed on the mimosas--but I can assure you, most did not), entered some raffles, then sat through a couple presentations on Girl Scouts and something else. I don't know. I wasn't really listening. And neither was anyone else. And then there was a fashion show. Because what girls' morning out would be complete without a fashion show? Oh, how I love me a good fashion show. The models were not professionals (even better!), so as they strutted their stuff, and skipped about and did the hokey pokey and turned themselves around, and the women in attendance "oohed" and "aaahed" over the clothing, I looked over at my friend and said "I feel like such a woman right now. ..... And I'm not sure I like it."

Do you ever have those moments where you're thinking that you are the only one who doesn't get it? Like you're supposed to get it, but you just don't? That was me at that moment. Don't get me wrong--I suffer no gender confusion here. I just didn't get it. I felt so out of place. So abnormal.....and yet.....like I was the only normal person in the room. And then...no sooner had I told my friend I felt like such a woman, Shania Twain's "Man! I Feel Like a Woman" came on. T'was perfect, my friends. Perfect.

It was delightful. Afterward, my friend and I were asking ourselves what soroptimists were all about. What do they do? Well, after a quick Google search, it turns out that soroptimists are about many things having to do with the betterment of women and children. But, most notably --they support world peace. Because any self-respecting "group" supports world peace. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I don't support world peace. I mean, I am a conservative, Republican war-monger. Obviously, supporting such an organization goes against everything I stand for.

Well, since my friend and I do not support world peace, we cannot be soroptimists. We thought about starting our own group, the Sorpessimists. We thought we'd get better enrollment with such an organization. But we're really not pessimists...usually....so we decided to go with Sorrealists instead. It sounds so much more down-to-earth and real. Soroptimist is wayyyyy too cheery and happy for me.

Sorrealists. We stand for truth, justice, and the American way. And we definitely do not support or encourage world peace.

Who's with us?

Totally 80s Tuesday

2010-05-25T09:55:00.000-07:00

Here's a totally random post. I am not sure what triggered this mammary.

Back in the day, (you know, THE day), I used to watch The Young and the Restless. Religiously. I was like a pre-teenager, and I was so into it. Remember Paul and Lauren? Paul and Cassandra? Victor and Nikki? Victor and Ashley? Ashley and Brad? Cricket and Danny? The list of love affairs could go on. I mean, it is a soap opera after all.

Well, remember this gem from Michael Damian, who played Danny Romalotti on Y&R? It's from 1989. Oh yeah.

Hey kids, rock on! Boogey too.

I love how he thinks he's so bad a$$. But he's clearly not. He's Danny Romalotti, for goodness' sake!

A Three Hour Tour

2010-05-22T19:13:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of having a 3 hour glucose test done. Yes, 3 hours. It was truly glorious. After failing my routine 1 hour test, I was ordered to do a 3 hour one. Oh, joys!

I finished dinner at 6:30 pm on Thursday night and then I was done eating for the next 17 hours. Those of you who are fellow Mormons are quite familiar with fasting...often for a full 24 hours. Lightning please don't hit me, but it is never a "fun" thing to do. But when you're pregnant? Especially not pleasant.

Friday morning was quite strange, not eating breakfast and all. I mean, that is the highlight of me day. Me and the Cap'n Crunch sharing a special moment. But no. No breakfast. I was robbed of that delightful ritual. My friend asked me beforehand if I was allowed to even brush my teeth. You know...I might accidentally swallow some toothpaste or something! I told her that that was where I drew the line. No one would be keeping me from my Sonicare and the love affair that we share. Ok, that sounded bad. I promise my Sonicare does not come with any special attachments. I just really like to brush my teeth. I promise.

Anyhow, I went into the clinic lab, where I had my blood drawn for a baseline, and then I drank that horrible glucose drink, followed by 3 hours of me picking my arse at the lab. The first hour I spent in the waiting room of the clinic. I had brought along my morning paper, so I enjoyed that for awhile, but I kept getting distracted by all the people in the waiting room with me. There was the cute little old lady who had come to the wrong clinic location and was very confused. And the cute little old man with his cute wife on his arm. He was so loving and attentive to her. A true gentleman. And there was the hick who walked in swigging on a a 2 Liter bottle of Coke. Yes, 2 whole freakin' liters. I wondered if he was having to provide a 2 liter urine sample or something. I especially enjoyed it when his cell phone rang and the ring tone was "Bad boys, bad boys....Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?" Ah, yes. He was obviously as bad a$$ as they come. First impression confirmed.

Then there was the man who decided to tell me his whole life story while we waited. Which is strange, because people don't usually have a desire to talk to me. I put off that "don't talk to me, not interested" vibe. Intentionally. It is one of my Sarahs who knows the intimate details of all kinds of people's lives. Not me. I kid you not--we were camping with her family once, and she started a conversation with a fellow campground attendee, and not 5 minutes into the conversation, my Sarah friend knew that this woman's husband peed sitting down. There's something about her that screams "Tell me all about your pathetic life!" She screams it, and the rest of the world obeys. She knows way too much. But I guess that's why she's a great life coach. But I digress. Back to this guy in the waiting room...

I wanted to tell him, "Look buddy, I'm reading my paper here. And I'm reading every last article. Because I have 3 hours to kill. Do I look interested?" I'd nod and respond briefly to his remarks, then quickly go back to my paper. But he didn't seem to care that I was intensely interested in my article about the incredibly exciting new roundabout in a neighboring town. He told me how he'd been out of work for a year, and had just found a job. Then he admitted that he didn't even look for a job for the first 8 months. Well, isn't that nice. I am glad that we all could pay for your 8 month vacation. How lovely.

There was the lady who yelled at her daughter approximately every 1.6 minutes. Why is it that the people who are the meanest to their kids in public are also the loudest? I mean, if you're going to tell your kid to shut up in public, at least do it quietly.

Oh, and I can't forget to add that I got to hear Peter Cetera and Lionel Richie over the radio speakers. That was definitely a nice touch. That was my first hour. Then I went to have my blood drawn again, and the tech asked me how I was doing. I told him I was lightheaded and a little nauseated. So he told me I could lay down in the EKG room. Which I did. I was feeling pretty good...until a man came in needing an EKG. The nerve! So rude! So I was kicked out. But I got back in, and there I lay for the next hour and a half (with a break for a blood draw) until my 3 hours were up. I had my blood drawn one last time, and I was outta there!

Sigh...Now I get to wait for the results. I really hope I don't have gestational diabetes. There are definitely worse things. But I really wanted to ride this pregnancy out--really enjoy eating whatever I wanted, and not exercising much--because when else do you ever get the chance to do that? I was really wanting to just kick back and delight in my fatness, as the prophet Isaiah taught in the scriptures. But perhaps that is not going to happen. If I do have gestational, then I'll have to start really watching what I eat, and I'll have to get my lazy arse off the couch and do some exercising. It is strange, because I exercised through my other three pregnancies, but not this one. I feel too old now. Things hurt. Things droop. Things hang. This glorious bod just ain't what it used to be. Now I can only look back and yearn for the glory days....when things that were supposed to be tight were tight, things that were supposed to be hard were hard, and things that were supposed to be perky perked. Now, things are all messed up and turned around! Hell, there are some things that just don't even exist anymore!

But that is OK. I wouldn't trade a hot bod for my 3 and a half chilun's. Motherhood's worth it. Really, it is. At least that's what I'm telling myself. I'll admit, sometimes I need a little reminding.

Totally 80s Tuesday

2010-05-18T13:09:00.000-07:00

My microwave is broken. Sad. I guess it's like 12 years old. It's had a good life. They just don't make them like they used to. The loss of my microwave, and the subsequent cooking of things on the stove and in the toaster oven (oh, the horror!), has taken me on a trip down mammary lane to what pre-microwave life was like, and the childhood day that my family got our first microwave. What a blessed, glorious day, indeed!

We were on the cutting edge. We were one of the first in the neighborhood to get our very own kitchen microwave. That sucker was huge. It took up half our kitchen counter. But it was sweet. I remember the cookbook that came with it, and boy oh boy, the things you could make in the microwave! Revolutionary!
Most notably, I recall making peanut brittle and apple crisp in the microwave. Along with a plethora of other delights. I can't forget to mention the invention of the "log" in our home. My sister and brothers came up with the genius idea of melting marshmallows and chocolate chips in the microwave. Then, they would often add peanut butter and sometimes coconut, resulting in the most delicious concoction--that happened to resemble a turd. We called them "logs," to preserve a certain degree of palatability. Ah, childhood. It always comes back to poo.

In any case, the microwave surely changed the lives of many when it became widely available in the 80s. Nowadays, it's hard to imagine life without one. Trust me, I know. It sucks.

What's your favorite thing to nuke? (No, not Iran....)

Totally 80s Tuesday

2010-05-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

Say you, say me. Say it together. Naturally.

Hello. Is it me you're looking for?

You're once. Twice. Three times a lady.

That's why I'm easy. Easy like Sunday morning.

We're going to party. Karamu. Fiesta. Forever.

Do it to me one more time.

Sigh. ... All lines from one of my favorite artists (to mock) ever. I'm pretty sure I use at least one of those lines once a day. What can I say? Lionel is in my soul. He's in the very air I breathe. He is a part of me.

I can't quite put my finger on it. Could be the mullet. Could be the mustache. Could be the incredible lyrics that just bring you to your knees asking for more. Whatever it is, this one's for you, Lionel. You will always be. My. Endless. Love.

Check out some of my favorite Lionel Richie videos:

Dancing on the Ceiling: This one is a practical 80s fashion show with some seriously fantastic fashion.

And of course, I had to include, "Hello." The song "Hello" has seen a bit of a revival in the last few years. David Cook did a great job with it on American Idol, as did the cast of Glee a few weeks back. You'll note that in the Glee video, they're sitting around the piano with a Lionel Richie book of sheet music. Well, go back 16 years or so, and you would've seen the exact same thing happening in my house, when my sister and I used to sit around our piano singing the hits of Lionel. Minus the awkward, romantic glances of course. And with the addition of a wee bit of sarcastic mockery. But whatever. Same thing pretty much. We had our own version of glee club going on in our home.

But back to Lionel and "Hello." Nothing speaks to the soul like the original. And the video? Well, take a look for yourself. Nothing more beautiful and romantic than a drama teacher stalking his blind student.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-05-04T14:50:00.000-07:00

1. Yesterday I was at the register in Kohl's, and Big Red, being my OCD/janitorial child that he is, went and pushed the cart back for me, and then was looking at the Kohl's for Kids stuffed animals and books that are always there at the checkout stand. The man at the register couldn't see him and didn't know that Big Red was there. Anyhow, the current Kohl's for Kids theme is Toy Story, so Big Red was checking things out, and pulled out one of the stuffed dolls. I asked him, "Do you have a Woody?"

Well, the man at the register, unaware of Big Red's existence, thought I was talking to him. And well...as you can imagine, it was a little awkward. Not generally a question you ask a stranger at check-out.

The look on his face was priceless. I think he figured it out.... eventually.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-04-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

Last fall, during VidKid's football season, there was a group of moms who formed a little football "clique." They called (and continue to call) themselves the "BlackBird Mamas," (name has been changed to protect the innocent...namely, ME). They hung out at all the games and practices, and held parties after the games together, etc., etc. Mind you, they were usually drunk at these functions. On school property. In any case, they were a club, and they obviously enjoyed each other's company.

Of course, as I've discussed before, having the anti-social attitude that I have in most sporting situations, I had no desire to penetrate the Mamas group, and just stuck to my little section of the sideline with one of my dear Sarahs.

Well, through a series of events that I do not have the time or desire to explain fully, it has come to my attention that recently, these Mamas were discussing several of the kids and families of the football team, and my son came up. And I guess there was some wonderment by a few of them as to why Hamburglar did not attend many of VidKid's practices. I find this highly puzzling, because Hamburglar did in fact attend many, if not most, of VidKid's practices and all of his games. And, it was then apparently established by the Mamas, that the reason why Hamburglar was not in attendance was because.....

He has a drinking problem.

Yes, my Hamburglar evidently has a drinking problem. I'm not sure how they surmised this...but this is the conclusion that was reached. Maybe it was the slurred speech....or the bloodshot, shifty eyes....Oh wait. That was them. I'm not sure what made them think that about Hamburglar. The incredible irony of this whole scenario is that these women were always intoxicated (or at least buzzed) every time I saw them. Who are they to talk about anyone's drinking problem?

Obviously, this is a case of mistaken identity. There were almost 30 kids on that team. I'm not sure if they could even pick out VidKid or Hamburglar in a line-up.

Either way, I think I should set up an intervention for Beerburglar. Just in case.

Who's in?

It's About Time

2010-04-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

Warning: Controversial political rant ensues below.

This big hullabaloo in Arizona over the law that now allows law enforcement to actually do their job and enforce the laws on the books? What's the uproar about? Is this, or is this not, a nation that reveres the rule of law?

Apparently, many Hispanics are up in arms , participating in violent protests, in their thinking that there will be an increase in racial profiling. Ummm...If you are legal, then what, exactly, do you have to be afraid of? It's like the Arabs who don't want increased scrutiny at the airports. Again...if you're not a terrorist, what are you afraid of? Don't you want your flights to be safe too? Legal Hispanic Arizonans, don't you want your communities safer? Do you not realize that when we respect and enforce the law, it makes it safer for everyone?

Until this nation can get over this political correctness and deal with the facts and the real, serious issues facing this country, we're all screwed. You can't solve a problem until you're willing to be honest about what the problem actually is, people. It is what it is...and all your cries of "racial profiling" will never change those facts.

Illegal immigration is a HUGE problem for us. No one knows that better than the people of Arizona. And that's why over 70% of the population there supports this new law--even though they admit it might lead to racial profiling. They're tired of the federal government's inaction and failure to enforce immigration policies. They're tired of watching their communities deteriorate under the crushing financial, criminal, and cultural burden these illegal populations put on them.

Oh, but the Mexican president condemns the law, because he doesn't like the "criminalization of migration." Oh, I see... "migration"...is that what it's called now? Sorry, Mr. Calderon, but we don't really care what you think. Your nation is falling apart in corruption and violence, and you're going to tell us how to run ours? Not to mention the fact that Mexico has very strict immigration laws...but apparently we shouldn't be allowed to use the same intense scrutiny in deciding who comes to our country.

All I can say is the day that white, matronly, middle-aged women start hijacking airplanes or forming drug smuggling rings on the Mexican border, is the day I'm first in line for the the strip search and/or request for documentation.

Many will try to vilify those of us in support of this law as racist bigots. This has nothing to do with race. This has to do with the law. I have no ill will towards the people who come here trying to make a better life for themselves and their families. I don't hate Mexicans. What I hate is watching the law be ignored, defiled, and trampled on. The day we as a country decide that the rule of law is unimportant is a dangerous and sad day indeed.

Without the rule of law, this nation has and is nothing, and everyone's rights will be threatened.

He Knows

2010-04-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

Last week I had to take Big Red into the dentist to have a cavity filled. I know. I can hear the gasps now...how appalled you are at me that my 4 year old has a cavity. Trust me, the "I'm a horrible mother" guilt episode has already come and gone. I take comfort only in the fact that my other 2 children have not had any cavities...so it's not like this is a house with just horrible dental hygiene habits. Big Red just has bad, cavity-prone teeth. That's all. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

In any case, we're at the dentist, and Big Red gets in the chair, and the dentist, who is also a good friend of ours, begins to explain to Big Red what the instrument in his hand is, and what is going to happen next. Mind you, he didn't numb Big Red for this filling....no needle, no numbing gel, no laughing gas--nada! This made me a little nervous...but I figured we'd find out soon enough if he needed it.

So, the dentist is trying to explain things to Big Red, and Big Red would always reply with "I know." Not a mean, annoyed, shut-the-hell-up "I know." Just a soft, well-mannered "I know." He did this throughout the whole procedure. There was nothing that the dentist or his assistant could tell him that he apparently didn't already know.

He knows, OK? He knows that the drill is going to feel kind of bumpy and be loud. He knows that. He knows everything that is going to happen. He. Knows.

There is nothing you can tell this kid that he doesn't already know.

Hmmm...I just can't imagine where he got that from.....

Tracking Down the Creeps! Part

2010-04-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

After a lengthy break, Tracking Down the Creeps is back! Here are some more web search terms that landed people right here on Kamilli Vanilli:

i hate myself for loving you richard marx
We all hate ourselves for loving Richard Marx. I mean, besides a glorious mullet, what is there to love? But we just keep coming back for more. Because we know he will be right there, waiting for us. Always.

charmin ultra vs generic
Let me tell you, because we've conducted our own scientific study on this topic here on Kamilli Vanilli, haven't we? The Charmin is better. Much better. Minimal butt lint and chafage. At least according to their own advertising.

step fro
I know exactly what you're talking about! After my step class, I get a serious fro.

nobel prize is a piece of crap
Word.

x video kamilli
Heh heh heh. Yeah, I can assure you that you will find no such thing. Anywhere. It does not exist.

i hate myself let's just fall in love
Seems like the next logical step.

touretteworld
Welcome to my world.

toller cranston shirtless
Oh my. Shirtless. No need for pantless...because, well....we could see it all in those skating tights anyways. Not much left for the imagination, really. Thanks for the childhood anatomy lesson, TC.

story of the creme filled doughnut
I don't know what the story is, but I'm sure it's a good one. And definitely one where we all lived happily ever after. And fat.

adult content blogspot
Again, you've come to the wrong place.

les schwab free beef sale 2010 crappy
Was the 2009 free beef sale better in some way? Were the chubs of beef offered in 2009 somehow less crappy?

his tight polyester pants
Sigh.... So fantastic. So irresistibly, wonderfully fantastic.

Wise Guys

2010-04-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the whole fam damily was driving home in the car. We were returning from an excursion to Five Guys Burgers, which had just recently opened here in our town. Some idiot had forgotten to put a movie in the car to keep the kids adequately entertained and their hands to themselves. (That idiot being me.) The chiluns were all over each other...bugging each other, hitting each other...just being really, really annoying. I hit a breaking point, to which I exclaimed to the universe, "Tell me again why we're having another child?"

Now, in my defense, this has become a somewhat common, comical phrase in our house, mostly due to a funny Disney show commercial, in which a child asks his mother why they have 4 children in their family, to which the mother replies, "Because 3 is for quitters!"

So, I ask the question, "Why are we having another child?", expecting Wonderella to give her usual response of "Because 3 is for quitters!" But no, instead, I got "Because you and Dad lie in bed together."

Ummmmm....yeah. Not quite what I was going for.

I suppose it's time for me to be a good mom and have the talk. She obviously knows enough already. It probably all started with that dang "Making Animal Babies" book I told you about. But this time I can't just talk about piggyback frogs. I need to talk about moms and dads "laying together." Or something like that. It seems I'm only allowed a maximum of two "good mom" moments a week though, so let's just hope that this will be one of them.

Wish me luck!

The OPad

2010-04-09T08:45:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a little over a year since the National Day of Menopause (aka Inauguration Day). Since I am here to look after you, I thought it best if we have a little check-up and and see how you're doing as you've undergone "the change." How are you feeling? How are your menopause symptoms? Better? Worse?

Let's take a look.

Heavy Bleeding
Have you bled to death yet? How's your paycheck? Do you even still get a paycheck? How about your 401k? Anemic? How about your taxes? Have they gone up? If not yet, we know they're about to.

If you've lost a lot, try not to worry too much--it's all part of the plan...all part of the glorious change. The Obama Pad, or OPad if you prefer, will soak it all up. Sometimes you may get caught off-guard by all the bleeding and spotting, but you just need to put your trust in the OPad. The OPad will not let you down. The OPad will soak all your wealth up and give it away to someone else who needs it more than you. The OPad is highly absorbent and made of only the finest, natural, earth-friendly fibers. Nothing absorbs wealth better than the OPad.

Mood Swings
Do you find yourself a little more irritable than usual? A little more on-edge? Easily frustrated by the idiots that surround you...and especially the ones in Washington DC? Do you feel like your emotions are constantly being played with? Do you feel like you're being made to feel guilty and responsible for things you have nothing to do with?

Yeah, me too. But don't get discouraged. Utopia is coming. Oh, it's coming. Soon. Very soon.

Libido Changes
How's your libido? You'll remember early last year, Obama set out to stimulate packages all across America. Has your package been fully and adequately stimulated? Are your multiple Obasms becoming more frequent and more intense? Or have they all but disappeared?

From my clinical observations, it appears that the Obasms are waning in many people. But I predict the Obasms will return when the change is complete. So don't worry about your unstimulated package for now. Put your trust in the Big O.

Fatigue
Those of you working 3 jobs to make ends meet are probably tired. But you're doing what is best for the country. You're working so that other people don't have to. Good on ya.

Increased Abdominal Fat
There's something about sitting on the couch, watching Jerry Springer, collecting an unemployment check for 79 weeks straight that will make you fat. It could happen to anyone. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Inability to Focus
Like I said last January, you probably don't want to focus too much on what's going on. Obama doesn't want you to anyways. And, hell--I'm not sure anyone out there really knows what is going on out there. No one reads bills that they vote for. No one knows what they're doing. So take comfort in knowing you're not the only one in the dark.

Disturbing Memory Lapses
In order to move forward with "the change," all sense of history and logic must be removed. We need to forget that nationalized healthcare has never worked anywhere it's been tried. We need to forget that socialism is slavery. We need to think that we can keep spending and spending, and borrowing and borrowing, without consequence. We need to forget all that if the change is to be fully implemented. So don't worry your pretty little head. You just keep listening to your Rihanna songs and let Big O take care of the rest.

Incontinence
Does your cup spilleth over at all times? Do you feel like you've lost all control over your life? All natural. Just let it flow. Let it go. Again, put your trust in the OPad.

Increased Facial and Body Hair
Your body is very good at adjusting. Since Crap & Trade is coming, it knows that you won't be able to set your heater past 63 degrees in the winter. So it's just starting to grow more hair to keep you warm. That's what our chimpanzee ancestors did. So that's what we're doing. Just evolving with the times.

Increased Body Odor
Are you sweating more than normal? Concerned with your future and unsure of what it holds? May I recommend the Barack Obama Cologne to cover up the smell? It masks odors very well, and is really good at covering up really, ridiculously stinky stuff. Named after the king of all cover-ups, of course.

Tingling Extremities
Have you experienced any more leg tingles, or have they gone away? Are any other body parts or appendages tingling in giddy excitement at what lays just beyond the horizon? Or are you just plain numb? Has all the gloriousness that has transpired over the last year just put you into shock and your senses into overdrive? Can you feel anything at all?

Flatulence, Diarrhea, and Gastrointestinal Problems
You've most likely undergone some purging. Your liberties and property rights have been purged. Just remember that the purging is good for you. It's important to get rid of all those rights and freedoms, and it's especially important to purge us from the constraints of the Constitution. Yeah, it stinks a bit at first, but with time, that wretched stench will be replaced with the sweet, savory smell of socialism. And there's nothing more fragrant than that.

And that is change you can believe in.

Are you a believer?

Three Times a Lady

2010-04-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, another Lionel Ritchie reference. I'm on a roll.

So, now that I've come out about my pregnancy, I'd just like to point out that there is now an explanation for the pre-Christmas handicap parking stall crying incident. No explanation for the woman's ridiculous behavior--but an explanation for mine. It was the pregnancy hormones! It all makes sense now! I didn't know it at the time. When I did make that connection, I cannot tell you how relieved it made me. There always has to be a legitimate reason for me to cry. And hormones are always the good ol' standby thing to blame it on. Really, you can blame pretty much anything on hormones when you're a woman. But shhh....don't tell anyone. That's our little secret.

It also explains why, when on our cruise a month ago, when a man got up in front of everyone at the formal dining room and proposed to his wife, I got a little verklempt. This is highly unusual. I am not a sap, nor am I much of a romantic. I can only blame it on the pregnancy. Though, I must say, those feelings of verklemptedness went away quickly, when the next night I saw the newly engaged lady loudly complaining to her new fiance how annoyed she was that he didn't want to go out and party and have fun on the ship. Listen, lady, the guy just put down a chunk of change for that rock on your finger! Give him a break! But I digress...

We had the ultrasound a couple weeks ago. And after much manipulation to get the wee baby to show its stuff, we believe that it will be of the feminine variety. Yes, yes...another girl to hit the lives of the Vanilli family. I am not entirely convinced...but we'll go with it. I am happy that Wonderella will have a sister and that the balance of power will be evened out, as one of my readers pointed out. I do fear the extra drama that another girl will bring into our lives, but that's OK. More drama can't be any worse than more messes, stitches, broken bones, and pee on the bathroom floor that a boy would bring.

The birth order of my children is the exact same birth order of my siblings and me. I was the baby, so this new one of mine will be the equivalent of the "Kamilli" of my family. Uh oh. Could be scary. Could be very, very scary.

I am definitely feeling older this time around. My body is feeling it more than I ever did with the other three. My pregnancies were all really good--I felt great! I was never one to wish for it all to be over with--because I knew it was a heck of a lot harder once they were out of me. I am hoping it will be the same with this one, but I can already tell that it might be a little harder than the last 3. But that's OK. It is to be expected, I guess. It has been almost 5 years since the last one. I'm not complaining. Just sayin'...

And there you have it.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-03-31T10:28:00.000-07:00

Hello. It's my day to rant and whine. Your favorite, and mine!

1. You know what sucks? Having your bedroom flat screen TV give you the black screen of death. You know what sucks even more? Having your flat screen TV give you the black screen of death after just over 2 years. And the warranty was 2 years. And the realization that if you had received your Costco American Express card 3 days earlier than you did, you would have purchased said TV on that American Express card, which would have extended your warranty long enough to cover stupid, piece-of-hud TV. That sucks.

No more getting dressed to Megyn Kelley in the morning. No more falling asleep to Glenn Beck yelling at me. Sigh....

2. I hate colds...especially when I'm pregnant. They last forever. I've had this one for over 2 weeks now, and I'm pretty much sick of it. I just want to feel normal again. Well, at least as normal as a woman can feel with a wee little baby kicking her in the gut and making her need to pee all day.

And the mucus? Seriously, TMI, I know....but how is it physically possible for a body to produce so much? You blow your nose and you blow your nose...and it never stops. At some point, you think you'd run dry. But apparently not. My nose is a fountain everlasting.

3. I hate Spring Break...unless I'm somewhere fun. Which I am not. I don't know if we as a family are going to survive it this year. It's mostly because I'm sick and don't feel well, and am extra-ornery, and don't have the energy to properly entertain my children, and am going a little stir-crazy. The only good side is there's no baseball practice...which leads me to #4.

4. I hate baseball. OK, I don't hate it...but it is really one of my least favorite sports. And both Wonderella and VidKid are playing it this year. I hope I can make it through. I tried extra-hard to convince Wonderella that volleyball was the sport of champions and that she should play that this spring instead, but she wanted softball. Ugh. I guess it's not all about me. But how am I supposed to live vicariously through her if she keeps picking stupid sports to play? I guess I should just be glad she wants to play anything at all instead of sitting around the house watching iCarly episodes all day.

Ok, I think I'm done. Thanks for listening.

Totally 80s Tuesday

2010-03-23T11:19:00.000-07:00

Ok, so this one is probably from the 70s. But that's OK. We'll just pretend. Cuz it's a goodie. My brother sent this to me and my family, and we all agree that, in my other brother's words, it is "pure, solid 4000 karat sweet brother love gold. "

Have you seen this? You might need to watch it a couple times to catch all of the gems in it. My personal favorite is the guitar player. And the backup singers. And the organist. And the lyrics aren't bad either. Love it!

I have to share what my brother said about it:

"Kip Dynamite's cousin is bugging out on the rhythm guitar. Flippin'
righteous.  I love his solo with the arm drops at the end where he
just surrenders to the grace bestowed upon him as he worships
at its holy, 6-string altar.  Rock 'N Roll reverence!  Blessed
submission!"

My Love Letter to Nancy

2010-03-21T21:46:00.001-07:00

Dearest Nancy,

Can I call you "Nana" for short?

Nancy, thank you so much for looking out for me. I am obviously too stupid to really know what is best for me and my family. I didn't really like the health insurance I had. I thought I did...but I guess I really didn't, because you told me I shouldn't. And Nana knows best!

I'm glad that you will now be affiliated, as you said, with the greats who helped pass Social Security and Medicare. Yes, we all know how fabulous those federal programs are and how successful they've been. Tremendously so. You deserve to be affiliated with them--as you wish. Fo sho.

I appreciate that you didn't bother to worry about the fact that national healthcare has never really been successful anywhere it's been tried. When has that ever been a reason not to try? Only losers quit, right? Winners keep trying. Over and over...and over. Because that's what feels good inside. I feel good inside...do you, Nana?

And deficits? hahaha. Who the heck cares about deficits? Only accountant dorks in their green glasses!

Thanks for making it so that irresponsible whores who knock themselves up can get an abortion with my taxpayer money. The last thing this world needs is more girls being "punished" by babies. Isn't that what our revered leader, Barack Obama told us? He's so wise.

Thanks for not listening to all those dumb, stupid, ignoramuses who showed up at all those silly townhall meetings, jammed the Congress' phone lines, and stood outside the Capitol for hours on end to express their dismay with what you were trying to do. It takes real leadership to tell those idiots to "shove off" and do what you know is best. What's wrong with those people, anyway? Who are they to doubt you? When have you ever steered us wrong? They probably came straight from their farms in Arkansas! Dummies.

And that whole Constitution thing? What an old-fashioned bother! Thanks for finding a way "under, over, through, and across it" so you could find a way to circumvent it. Thanks for that. Your willingness to disregard two centuries of freedom and experience shows me how dedicated you are to me and my well-being. You love us. You really, really do.

You're not just the Speaker of the House. You're the Speaker of MY House. And everyone's house across the country.

Liberty is so overrated.

Thanks again, Nana. You're the best. We are so lucky to have you.

Love always (or at least until November),
Kamilli Vanilli

The Ants Go Marching One by One

2010-03-15T10:37:00.001-07:00

Ok....so if you haven't noticed yet, it is the middle of March. March. You know...the month of madness, magnificence, mania, mayhem, and mounting resulting in the conception of all 3 of my children?

So, I am happy to report that this March will be different from the past 4 Marches, where I hoped desperately I would not conceive a child, resulting in yet another December birthday. No, no...I am home-free this March.

Permanent, irreversible birth control? No. Practicing abstinence all month? Yeah, right.

No, no...I have no worries about getting pregnant this month, because I already took care of that in November. Yes, that's right, a new Vanilli child is forthcoming. In August to be exact. Me. A mother of four chiluns. How the *aitch* did this happen? Wait...don't answer that.

More good news is that is possible for me to have a child in a different month! You don't know what this does for my self-esteem! And my sanity.

We will hopefully find out this week what the gender of the baby is. Don't be shy, baby. Don't be shy. But for now, its name is Noggin. Why? Because I like it. And because my kids have huge heeeeds. Like oranges on toothpicks. (Bonus points for my altered movie reference....)

And there you have it. I'm just glad I'll get this kid out before all this health care crap kicks in. Instead of my nice, private suite, I'd probably end up having to share a hospital room with three other crazy, screaming ladies and their homely children.

Which reminds me....this is the week. Again. Call your dumb Congressmen and let them know what you think about this health care debacle. They're pretty dense. It takes a while for it to sink in that we aren't interested. Keep trying.

Totally 80s Tuesday

2010-03-09T13:05:00.000-08:00

Oh, it's been so long. Tuesdays have just been lackluster without my Totally 80s Tuesdays to cheer me up.

Today, I pay tribute to one of the best bands of the 80s...and they still continue to pump out some pretty good music to this day. Of course, I speak of none other than Bon Jovi.

Oh, Jon. I've said it before...if only you weren't such an activist Democrat. You'd be perfect. But I guess I shouldn't expect anything different from a guy from Jersey.

I'm sure most of you know they are on tour right now. Anyone have tickets? They came to Seattle a few weekends ago...but it was the weekend I left on my cruise. So sad. So very, very sad. I missed the Olympics and Bon Jovi. Heartbreaking.

Word from my friends J and Dirty D is that it was quite the concert. I would've loved to have seen Jon and Ritchie rock it. Ritchie Sambora just makes me laugh. There is something about him that I just get a kick out of. Not sure what it is--can't quite put my finger on it...but he makes me chuckle.

One of my kids' favorite songs is "Living on a Prayer." They love to rock out to it on Guitar Hero. Does anyone not like this song? Anyone? They played it a couple times on the cruise, and it was a show-stopper every time. Maybe cuz it's a good song to sing to. I remember when I was a kid, there used to be a countdown of the top 10 most requested songs every night on our local radio station. I vividly recall my brother and I calling into the radio station to request this song. Oh, good times.

So, here's to Jon and the boys. Check out the video. I particularly like Jon's fancy feet in his boots and patched pocket jeans.

Fish Facts

2010-03-06T08:33:00.000-08:00

Last night, we had fish for dinner--much to the dismay of the children. You know those meals that you prepare because you want them, but you just know the children are going to freak? Love those meals. They don't happen very often around here, because I'd rather not fight the kids on eating, but sometimes you just really want to eat something you like. So last night was one of those nights. I had mentally prepared myself for the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth that was to occur as soon as the chiluns came in from playing outside. Once they caught the whiff of "fish" smell (who doesn't love having their house smell like fish?), I knew it would begin. And it did.

So, as Wonderella was whining about not wanting to finish her fish, I told her to just toughen up.

Me: Just eat the fish, Wonderella. It's good for you. It has lots of good things in it that are good for your body.

Wonderella: Yeah, right. Like what?

Me: Omega-3 fatty acids.

Wonderella, with a confused look: Fatty a$$es?

Of course, I busted up laughing. Fatty a$$es. Love it. Yes, fish is a good source of fatty a$es, Wonderella. You should eat it.

Fatty a$$es are really good for you. That's what I am going to tell myself when I look in the mirror. Mega fatty a$$es.

Hello. Is it Me You're Looking For?

2010-03-05T10:15:00.000-08:00

Sorry...couldn't resist a Lionel Ritchie reference.

I'm back from the sunny Caribbean. I miss the sunshine already. Terribly. And the woman who made my bed and cleaned my bathroom every day. And the nice man who brought me gourmet food every night. And all the delicious and tart lemonade a girl could drink. I miss all of it and more.

The one thing I don't miss? All the girls in their bikinis. I've said it many times, but apparently I need to repeat it. Apparently the 3 of you who read Kamilli Vanilli are not enough to change the world...so I'll keep plugging away...changing the world one pathetic life at a time until it is a better place to be.

So, at the risk of being repetitive, I would like to reiterate my stance on bikinis. Ladies, very few--I repeat--very few women can pull off a bikini. Chances are, you are not one of them. If you have any doubts...any....then listen to those doubts. Don't do it. You'd look so much nicer in a one piece. Or a tankini that covers you up. Honestly. You don't need to wear the bikini just because everyone else is doing it. If I thought you were more comfortable in a bikini--you know, with your bosoms , your belly, and your butt hanging out--then that would be one thing...but I just don't believe that's the case. The only time a bikini comes in handy is when you need to go to the bathroom. Nothing worse than going to the bathroom in a one-piece and having to basically strip down to go. Hate that--the peeling off a wet swimsuit. But that's not enough of an excuse to wear the bikini. I understand that you wish you could wear a bikini. Who doesn't wish they could pull off a bikini? I can't wear a bikini. 3 kids and 4 gluttonous cruises later....the belly ain't so smooth and flat anymore. But I am self-aware enough to know it.

Reality, people. Reality. Ever heard of it?

Don't get me wrong....I am not saying at all that women with imperfect or overweight bodies should be embarrassed or ashamed and hide themselves under a beach umbrella in one of these. Au contraire. I want all women to feel comfortable and beautiful--wearing something that makes them look good. And the bikini just isn't it. Unfortunately, in today's society I think women think that in order to look good, they need to go skimpy on everything. Contrary to this popular opinion, less is not always more. Sometimes more is more. I admire your confidence, girls, but please...for everyone's sake...just don't do it. Think of the children.

And if you just have to wear a bikini....can you at least choose one that is not a string bikini?

But enough about that. Back to me! So, as is custom on this blog, here are the things I learned on this vacation (cuz I'm all about learning and education and self-betterment and all that jazz):

There are more tone-deaf people in this world than I ever would have imagined. While on the cruise, we spent one night at the karaoke bar. I like to watch karaoke, and though some would say I am a "singer" of some sort...I don't like to sing karaoke. I just like to watch and mock other people. And my goodness....there was plenty to mock. And the songs?! Who chooses "Wind Beneath My Wings" for karaoke? Who chooses that song for anything?

I had no idea there were so many bad singers out there. Out of the 20 or so singers I saw, maybe 2 or 3 of them were even remotely close to being on-key. And some were just horribly, horribly awful. Entertaining, yes! But horrific. Almost as bad as this season's American Idol cast.
My love for the 80s can sometimes come in handy. Guess whose team won "Name That 80s Tune" on the ship? That's right. Knew pretty much all of them...and Hamburglar came through with the title of "Axel F." He always knows the random ones that no one else can quite remember. Good times. And speaking of 80s, we had a fabulous time at the 80s Disco night. We cut footloose. Quite literally.
The rumor about a certain race's body has been confirmed. I hesitate to explain how, but I think I probably should to preserve my innocence in this encounter. During a scavenger hunt-like game called "The Quest," the audience was divided into teams. During one of the rounds, the teams were required to present 4 pairs of men's pants. Well, one of the teams had a nice gentleman who gave up his pants...and then did a little strut in his underwear. And well...without going into too much detail....all I can say is....rumor confirmed.
Speedos are still alive and well. Just when you think that the last Speedo may have disappeared from the face of the earth, along comes a bunch of Europeans who demonstrate that no, no....the Speedo is still thriving. It's coming back. With a vengeance. Unfortunately, they do not all resemble the above-mentioned gentleman.
Drivers in 3rd/2nd world countries are even worse than Utah drivers. During our stint in Belize, I saw my life flash before me several times....as well as the lives of other people. I thought New York City cab drivers were crazy! The driving there was amazing. I suppose it was good to see first-hand, because when we rented scooters in Mexico (against all better judgment), we knew just how to drive and fit in. In and out of cars and traffic we drove. Poncherello would've been proud.
Cruise ships don't broadcast NBC. You know what that means? No Olympics. I tried not to let it get me down and throw me into the depths of self-pity and despair. We did get ESPN, so every now and then we'd see clips. Now that I'm home, I've been watching some of the stuff on my DVR just for the fun of it. I did get to see the men's hockey final while stuck in the airport for 6 hours in Fort Lauderdale. That was so exciting. Hamburglar and I sat at the bar at the airport Chili's for the entire game. A couple of root beers, a few rounds of chips and salsa, some hot wings, and a sore butt later, we saw the whole game. I was very excited for Canada to win. They wanted it. They needed it. It made the whole Olympics worth it for them to win that on their own home soil. And good for them for winning the most gold medals. Of all the anthems I'd wish to hear, the Canadian one is a favorite.
Shockingly, ventriloquists can actually be funny. Usually they kind of creep me out...but this guy we saw on the ship was pretty funny. Who knew?
Heed cruise ship recommendations. When the cruise ship recommends girls wear shirts and boys tighten their swim trunks while riding on the Flow Rider, they mean it. I witnessed a few harrowing incidents at the Flow Rider that I do not wish to re-live. Things and scenes and appendages a sweet, small-town gal like me should never have to see.
Hot and sour shrimp soup smells and tastes like swass. I can only attest for the smell, but according to Hamburglar, the soup tasted like it smelled. How he knows what swass tastes like, I don't want to know. But I've never smelled food like it--especially something prepared to serve in a fine dining room to the masses. So if you ever see this item listed on a menu, run! Run away as fast as you can. It will literally induce vomiting.
When you're in a theater that prohibits seat-saving, they don't really mean it....unless you're crotchety hag lady from Jersey. At the first night's show, we sat behind a lady who was saving a few seats for her husband and some friends. There were still several minutes before the show started, when up came this crotchety old woman and her hubby who planted themselves down in two of the saved seats. The seat-saving woman tried to say that she was saving these seats, but the crotchety one would have none of it. She declared, "The rules state, no saving seats." And that was that.

Now, I'm all about following rules. Really, I am. But come on. Everybody knows that saving seats is what we do. It would have been one thing if there had been no other seats left in the house. But there were plenty of good seats available. Wouldn't you rather avoid the confrontation than take someone else's seats? I don't get it. It brought back painful memories of the disabled parking stall lady. Live and let live, people. Live and let live.
Fish like vomit. While snorkeling in Mexico, I got pretty sick. The water was pretty rough and the waves just kept tossing me. And I'm prone to motion sickness anyways. And well...combine that with the taste of salt water and some other factors...and well....I lost my lunch. The fish seemed to enjoy it though. My loss was their gain.
Charmin's pillowy soft goodness is more important than I ever knew. The butt-wipe on the ship left much to be desired. Much. And here I thought people were walking funny on the boat because they hadn't got their "sea legs" yet....

Annnnd....We're Off!

2010-02-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

See ya, suckahs. I am outta here. Off to the Caribbean sunshine and slushery. Can't wait.

I will be back with tales to share, no question about it. Because if cruises aren't fabulous enough with their food and fun....the people-watching is Spec. Tacular! Love it. So I'm sure I'll have plenty to share. Word on the street is that you can get quite the show at the Flow-Rider (surf-simulator) on the ship, with swimsuits dropping all over the place when the riders wipe out. Oh, how I love me some great pants-dropping episodes. Sounds like a great time to me. There are perks (no pun intended) to wearing a one-piece, ladies. Besides that whole " not showing off the stretch marks and flabby skin" thing.

Hope you have a fabulous week! Enjoy the last week of Olympics for me....sniff, sniff....

What the Aitch? Wednesday

2010-02-17T11:25:00.000-08:00

Tragedy has struck my city. In the words of Ray Lamontagne's song.... "Trouble....trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble...."

The quality of my life has just plummeted. Drastically. My favorite restaurant--the one that I could turn to when I really wanted to eat something good and relatively cheap...the one that the whole family could go to and everyone would actually eat the food....the one that had free kid's meal Tuesdays....has closed down. Like, shut down, stripped down, sign-on-the-door-closed-down.

Waaaah!

Where can a girl turn for peace? Tragic. That's all I can say. I am still in a state of disbelief and shock. I am in the denial/anger stage of the grieving process. Hamburglar and I keep asking ourselves..."What if?" What if we had just frequented the place 3 times a week instead of 2? What if we had just told more of our friends and acquaintances about it? What if we hadn't gone so often on free kid's meals Tuesdays? What if we had actually paid for our kid's meals more frequently?

If we had known on our last visit there (about 2 weeks ago) that it would be the last time we would ever eat there, would we have savored the food more? Would we have taken the time to really enjoy and relish each bite? Would we have told the employees who knew us by name that we loved them and their delectable delights?

Sigh......Cherish what you have, folks. Love it. Cherish it. Hold on to it. Slip it dollar bills. Because it can all be gone in an instant.

Waaah!

Where's the Beef?

2010-02-09T07:03:00.000-08:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Well, besides the season when satsuma mandarins and their diarrhea-inducing effects come into season.

Why is it the most wonderful time of the year? No, not Valentine's Day. Gag. Not President's Day weekend. No, it's not because February is Return Shopping Carts to the Supermarket Month. Though, that is a noble thing to be celebrating.

No, no....it is that time of the year when Les Schwab Tires offers FREE BEEF with your tire purchase!!!!!!! Could life get any grander? Like having 4 new rubber tires on your vehicle isn't fabulous enough--throw in a couple free steaks and a chub of hamburger to boot, and you're sitting pretty my friend. Sitting. Pretty.

It really is my favorite sales promotion of all-time. I really can't think of anything I'd like more. It almost makes me want to go and buy me some new tires so I can get my grubby little hands on one of their fine beef party-packs. Cuz a party ain't a party without beef. Everyone knows that.

So head on out to your local Les Schwab Tire Center and pick yourself up a fine hunk of meat. And some tires too. Tell 'em Kamilli sent ya.

What the ? Wednesday

2010-02-03T14:31:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this post by saying I'm hoping I can get through typing this anecdote without dry-heaving.

The other day I was sitting behind an older teenage boy. A fine boy. A fine boy who was picking his nose. Something fierce. Not just a little wipe or a little pluck...we're talking digging with a fire and gusto heretofore unseen. It was amazing really. And really gross. For some reason, I couldn't stop watching. I don't know why. I was just in such amazement that I could not look away...even though I knew what the end result would be.

And then, there it was. The booger. I saw it with my own two eyes: the nasal debris on his finger. And then, I had to look away.

(Excuse me for a moment as I regain my composure.)

I don't know what happened to this nasal nugget...I'm hoping it didn't end up on a shirt or a chair...or worse. I cannot say.

What the he!!? How does this happen? How does a teenage boy become so unaware of his surroundings that he thinks he can get away with something like this in public? How, I ask? How?

The best part of this story is when I told Hamburglar about it later and he replied, "Yeah, he looks like a nose-picker." So apparently there's "a look."

And that's the end of my story. I don't know about you, but I feel edified and uplifted. Aren't you glad you stopped by today?

Going for the Gold

2010-01-26T13:18:00.001-08:00

Bestowed upon me yesterday was an honor of the highest honor. I was given a blog award from the fabulously forthright blogger, Cottage Cheese Thighs. Thank you, Cottage Cheese Thighs. I am touched. Deeply touched.

And I like to be touched.

And, as punishment for the receipt of such an award, I am instructed to list 6 things that I am the master of.

Only 6?

1. First, to start if all off, I am a master at being humble.

2. I am a master at using the word "arse." Any long-time reader of this here blog can attest to this. My fondest use of the word lately has been in describing Hamburglar as a smart arse. I like the double use of the "ar" sound. It's very lovely.

3. I am a master at not completing things. Most notable is the reading of books....I pick them up with the greatest of intentions....I get half-way though...and never finish. I cannot tell you how many times the words "I really liked the first half of that book" have come out of my mouth. My house, my yard, hell--my life--is one big half-finished project.

4. I am a master at using the fast-forward button on my DVR remote. I have told you of the traumatic experience of switching from Dish Network to Comcast. I don't have 30 second skip functionality anymore, and this has proven to be a grand challenge. But I am getting pretty dang good at knowing just when to push the play button so I can be right where I want to be. Heaven forbid I ever have to watch even 5 seconds of a commercial. Egads!

5. I am a master at conducting meetings. This last month was my first month as chair of the city commission I serve on, and the meeting was 6 minutes long! Yee haw! Now that's a meeting!

6. I am a master at feeling no social pressure whatsoever to engage in conversation with people I don't know or want to know. On the sidelines of my kids' sporting events, at school, at the gym...I have no desire or need to talk to strange people. It's not that I think I'm better than them, or that I'm scared of them, or that I don't like them...I just don't want to talk to them. I don't like small-talk. It's not genuine. It's awkward. Some may call me unfriendly, but I like to think of myself as socially selective. I'm very friendly. To my friends. That's why they're called friends.

And now....I hereby bestow this prestigious award upon the following blogs....these are two bloggers that I read and enjoy for their political insight and wisdom...among other things....and I have no idea who the hell they are. And we like it that way.

Welcome to My Soapbox
Fabulous Foster Four

To the winners, feel no pressure to continue the bestowal of this award...unless you want to. You may just want to bask in the glory that is yours...all yours. There is no need for you to let someone else steal your thunder.

To the losers, better luck next time. Try harder.

What the Aitch Wednesday

2010-01-20T12:41:00.000-08:00

Way to go, Massachusetts! I'm impressed.

Now there's something I never thought I'd say. Sure, historically speaking, Massachusetts has given us a lot. John Adams...Paul Revere....Larry Bird. But modern-day Massachusetts has given us nothing but grief. Kennedy after Kennedy....liberal after liberal. It gave us John Kerry. Need I say more?

But the people of MA pulled it off and elected a Republican Senator. Wow. Ted Kennedy is rolling in his grave right now. Rolling. The libs are stunned. And I love it.

There's still a lot of time between now and the November elections. And, as we've seen from the year that Obama has had....A LOT can change. So I'm not going to start counting my chickens before they hatch. But yesterday was a good sign for our country. Get the big-government, arrogant, elitists out of Washington and out looking for a new job like 10% of the rest of us.

Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

2010-01-19T15:12:00.000-08:00

Today is a big day, folks. Not just because of the Massachusetts election--that is huge,and I'm sure I'll have more to say on that later. But this is a big day for a different reason. Today, I took the plunge. I bought my airline tickets. Tired of playing the game....wondering if and when the prices might drop...I caught a price that I could live with, and flight times that were feasible and did it. And I actually pushed the "purchase" button myself. All. by. my. self.

Usually Hamburglar has to be there to actually physically push the 'purchase' button. But not this time. I did it all by my lonesome. I feel so empowered. Ok, Ok...I did have to call him at work and get his final approval and encouragement...but a girl can only stretch herself so much.

For some reason, I have the hardest time making vacation-y purchases online. I'm not sure why. I have no problem whatsoever buying other things online. NO problem. In fact, the ease in which I can do it is quite a problem if you were to ask Hamburglar. I guess maybe because I know I can always return those sorts of things, I can do it with ne'er a thought. But vacation reservations? Can't return those. Can't send back airline tickets to Target.

So, Hamburglar and I are going on a Caribbean cruise next month. I'm excited. I like to cruise. Sure, it's the sunshine and the beaches and the exploration of new cultures and countries. But I'll be honest--mostly, it's the food. All the food, glorious food that surrounds you is quite fabulous. Obviously. I'm going for a gain of 10 lbs on this cruise. Anything less will be disappointing. Lobster and steak and fruit soup. What's not to love?

That, combined with being able to see a man in tight figure skating pants glide across an ice rink while on a ship. Who could ask for more?

Sidenote: Do any of you know or remember Toller Cranston? He was a figure skater back in the 70s and 80s. And he wore the tights. And well...let's just say those tights were anatomically revealing. And well...we used to call him T.C. for short. And well....in my family T.C. may or may not have been the term we used to refer to certain parts of the body. Maybe. Possibly. I can neither confirm nor deny that.

Which brings me to this: I've declared my undying love for the Olympics before. I love them. I particularly am excited for these Winter Olympics because they're in Vancouver this year--close to where I live...and in my birth country of Canada. For some reason, when it's Olympics time, I cheer for the Canadians. Perhaps it's habit...maybe it's my love for the underdogs...either way--I cheer for the Canucks. Don't worry--not to be confused with my undying unlove for Canadian liberal politics.

Well, some silly person scheduled this cruise for when? During the last week of the Olympics! This is a travesty, my friends! A true tragedy. A calendaring faux-pas of the highest degree. I don't know if my DVR will cut it. There's something very anticlimactic about watching Olympic events after they've already happened. I might just have to spend all my time at the sports bar on the ship. Watching the men in tights. Eating hot wings.

Ok, maybe it won't be so bad. Try not to feel bad for me.

Tracking Down the Creeps!

2010-01-10T16:31:00.000-08:00

Well, lookie what I have here: Some more loony web searches people have made that have resulted in them coming to this here blog. Always a pleasure!

what i learned fro global warming
Pray tell. I'd love to hear it. What exactly have you learned? And does the 'fro impact what you've learned? Does the global warming feel warmer with a 'fro?

lied "crazy for my family"
We all say things we don't mean when it comes to our families. It's OK. It's allowed.

alphabet pal swear?
Hell, yeah it does!

carrying on a conversation with yourself tourette syndrome
Well, from my own experience, no one else will have a conversation with you, so you might as well have one with yourself.

obama paper doll what clothes does it come with
Why does it matter? Who wants to put clothes on Obama anyways? Just take the shirtless doll of him in his swim trunks and drool all day! Clothing is completely optional.

how to keep banana clip from sliding down
You gotta pull that hair in real nice and tight-like. This also maximizes the amount of hair available for the "mane," resulting in a more glorious, full, and rich mane of hair to cascade down your head.
Take it from me. I'm an expert.

receipt for dunkin donuts cream filled donut
Yeah, that 75 cents could break ya.

a loather of all things serene
So poetic, that is.

peoples experience with exlax
Well, let me tell you about it....
It's awesome!

cream filled wife
Don't tell her that.

why I hate myself and no heart for love
Sad. I can't even mock it.
haha..Who am I kidding? Of course I can.

strong way to say yes
I don't know...but I know a really weak, wussy way to say "yes." And that is "oui." It's French. And we all know anything French is wussy.

screaming in tourette syndrome
Just one of the many glorious symptoms. It's best when combined with the swearing.
Which, by the way, my friend, who just moved into a new house, has diagnosed herself with MITS. Moving-induced Tourette Syndrome. So add that to the list.

why does my cocker spaniel have a tuft on her head
Indeed....why....

don't have nads
Ummm....I'd have that checked if I were you....

blast from the past dressup flannel pants
They sound heavenly. Absolutely heavenly.

how to wear a banana clip
Beautifully, and with deep pride. There is no other way.

who sings like a knight in shining armor
Do you really need to ask this question? Blasphemy!

quotable quotes for dutiful wife
You're asking me?

(Just kidding, Hamburglar. You know I am very good at performing my wifely duties.)

blonde slouch socks pic
I kind of prefer brunette slouch socks. A little more scholarly.

banana combs coming back
Oh, they're coming back. Hold on to your bananas, folks. They're coming back! Dare to dream! The impossible dream.

The Year is Dying, So Let Her Die

2010-01-06T20:32:00.000-08:00

To answer your question....Yes, I have fallen off the face of the earth. Completely fallen off. But I am finding my way up...scraping...climbing....clawing my way back to the face of the earth. If the earth had a face. And if the earth was flat. Which it's not. Of course, we used to think it was flat....but we don't anymore...kind of like how one day we'll think "how in the hell did we think global warming was not real?, because it so obviously is." At least that's what Al Gore says we'll think. One day. Yes, one day, Al.

So, I am back. For how long...I cannot say. Did you miss me? Nah, I didn't think so.

Happy New Year to you and yours! And all that jazz.

Of course, you know how December is the month of madness in my home...and combine that with Christmas and other unforeseen pleasures and not-s0-pleasures, and this here blog has taken a big ol' backburner in my life.

So much has happened. The world has come unglued! The Democrats have singlehandedly taken this country to hell....terrorists have struck again....and Jennifer Hudson has hosted her own Christmas special. How the heck did any of this happen?? HOW, I ask?!

So I just wanted to say hello. And goodbye. I will be back.

Hooked on Phonics

2009-12-21T12:56:00.000-08:00

Poor Big Red. It's Christmastime...and for a small child such as he, it should be a time for toys and presents galore! The problem is...I have no clue what to get the kid.

We already have toys coming out of our butts around here. Yes, literally out of our butts. Can't count the number of times that my children have swallowed toy parts and had them take the special journey through their GI tract. But I digress.

We have too many toys. All the toys that Wonderella and VidKid used to play with now belong to Big Red. What more could a boy want?

So, anyways, it reminded me of my favorite gifts we gave to Wonderella when she was about 2. We gave her this LeapFrog Alphabet Pal:

This toy is all sorts of awesomeness for many reasons. It teaches your kid about the alphabet and colors and sings songs to them when you're too lazy to, and all sorts of other pleasures abound with the Alphabet Pal. But my favorite of all features is the phonics feature, where you can push one of the lettered feet, and it will say the phonetical sound of that letter. Well, if you can make these sounds close enough together, you can pretty much make the Alphabet Pal speak words. Of course, I, being the pure-minded individual that I am, upon discovering this fabulous feature, immediately attempted to make the Alphabet Pal swear. But no, no...the fine folks at LeapFrog were a step or two ahead of me...they had programmed this toy to giggle and say "That tickles!" when certain phonics combinations are attempted.

What a challenge! Needless to say, I pretty much went through every potty word in the book, testing the far reaches of my vast vocabulary of inappropriate words. For most of the attempted words, I usually ended up "tickling" the poor centipede again, but I can say there were some words that the geniuses at LeapFrog apparently were not aware of. What words, I will not and can not say. This is a family program here at Kamilli Vanilli.....or something like that.

So, thanks for the laughs, ol' buddy, ol' Alphabet Pal. Who knew when we picked you up off the Target shelf that cold and rainy morn that you would bring such light and pleasures and treasures into the Vanilli home? You've become a member of the family, really. Our family pet.

Do you have any favorite gifts that you either gave or received at Christmas time?

Totally 80s Tuesday

2009-12-08T14:21:00.000-08:00

So, since after my last post, half of you think I am a cold, cruel witch who enjoys watching the suffering of others, and with Christmas approaching, I thought this would be the perfect thing for Totally 80s Tuesday. Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas." It highlights some of my favorite pop stars from the 80s. Sting, George Michael, Bono, Boy George, Duran Duran, Paul McCartney, Phil Collins...doesn't get much better than that, does it? My favorite parts of the song are Sting's harmonies. And the bells, of course. Love the bells.

I remember as an elementary school child when the Ethiopian famine was going on. I remember one day in particular when everybody at the school ate a cup of rice for lunch, and that was it. I guess we were to share in the hunger and suffering. I remember being traumatized by it, actually. Not by the hunger--but by the photos and pictures of the Ethiopians. Sad.

Canada put together its own version of Band Aid, a group called Northern Lights. It included Bryan Adams, Anne Murray, Corey Hart, and many others....but most importantly, your favorite and mine...Dan Hill. I loved their song, "Tears Are Not Enough." Here it is if you'd like to take a gander. It's good stuff. Not Christmasy, though. Did you ever hear this song down here?

Park & Cry

2009-12-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

A new blog post! Shocker, I know! Life's been a tadbit crazy around these parts the last few weeks. December is the perfect storm, remember? I've been out of town, and preparing for birthdays and my church Whoville Christmas party and all sorts of fun stuff.

Another reason I haven't posted much lately is I haven't had much to write about. But today provided me with some great fodder.

Hamburglar and I were out with the kidlets today doing some errands/shopping, and he wanted to step into Best Buy for a few minutes. I didn't want to haul all the kids in there, so I told him I would wait in the car for him with the kids. So I dropped him off, and then, because the parking lot was quite full, I did the unimaginable--the horror of all horrors--I parked my car in one of the 8 open handicapped (yes, that's right, I said "handicapped"...sick the PC Police on me) spaces in front of Best Buy. I would never have parked there if there had not been plenty of other handicapped spots available, but I figured I wasn't doing any harm parking there for 5 minutes while Hamburglar went in. I figured if these spots started filling up and someone needed the spot, then I could move.

Boy, was I wrong. So very, very wrong.

So I'm sitting there minding my own business, flipping through a Costco flyer, when this pickup truck pulls up next to me. As the truck is pulling up, Wonderella says to me, "Mom, that lady is looking at you funny." I thought to myself, "Oh, probably some lady with her panties in a bunch over me parking in a handicap stall. Oh well, she'll just have to get over it." But alas--she did not get over it. She got out of her car and said quite forcefully "Excuse me!" I pretended not to hear her. I did not want to deal with this ridiculous specimen. Again, she says "Excuse me!" and then pounds on my window. Sigh. Obviously the ignoring thing was not going to work. So I rolled down my window and this lunatic woman rudely says "You are parked in a disabled parking stall, which is a 500 dollar fine, and I am calling the police," and she whips out her phone and starts dialing. I just looked at her, and I said, "Listen, I'm sorry, you're right--I don't have a sticker--but there are plenty of other open handicap spaces, and I'm not even in the closest one. My husband will be out any minute. I am happy to move for anyone that needs this space, but there aren't any people right now who need this spot." She continued to rant at me, telling me that it was Christmastime, and people were shopping, and blah blah blah, and I finally said to her "Fine, I'll move, but you don't have to be so rude about this...especially in front of my children!" To which, she retorted, "Maybe you should teach your children to do the right thing!" I, of course, do not take parenting advice from crotchety, ornery strangers who take it upon themselves to be the upholders of social justice in the world, so I told her that I really didn't find this to be a big moral issue, and asked her, since she had brought it up, if it was right for people to use handicapped stickers on their cars when they aren't even handicapped. We've all seen 'em. These people who park their car in the handicap spot, put up their disabled permit on their rearview mirror and then skip their way into the store. Let's just say she didn't like that comment. She told me her husband was in the car. But he wasn't even getting out of the truck. So why did she need to park in the handicap spot? Hmmm...?? So, in disgust, I drove away.

And then....the most ridiculous thing of all occurred. I drove over to one of my favorite restaurants nearby and I started to cry. Yes, you read correctly, I cried! A rare and ridiculous sight indeed. But, as I've mentioned before, when you're emotionally constipated and bottle angst and frustration and stress up for so long, it will inevitably come out...and it ain't perty. It stinks. It's ugly. Talk about emotional diarrhea. And then I was laughing at myself and my pathetic crying. I was half-crying, half-laughing--I was delirious. A true basketcase. I called Hamburglar to tell him where I was parked, and I could barely get the words out. I told him I had just been in a fight outside Best Buy. I'm sure he was wondering what the hell had just happened.

After I had regained my composure, but unfortunately not my dignity, for the next couple hours I kept thinking of all the things I wish I would have said to this woman. Oh, the comebacks that could have been mine!

Oh, I did not realize that they gave stickers out to the mentally disabled too.

Go ahead...call the cops. I'm sure they have absolutely nothing better to do.

Oh, is the sticker for the fact that you can't walk because you have a stick shoved so far up your butt? Or because your panties are bunched up to your chin?

I could've killed her with kindness. Yes, you're right, it is Christmas, thank you for spreading your Christmas cheer. Merry Christmas to you and yours. Disabled and non-disabled alike.

Yes, you're right, I should teach my children to do the right thing. Like how to pick fights and yell at strangers.

What's your husband's disability? His 'roids acting up again from having to deal with his crazy-a$$ wife? Did he give up and recently have a surgery to finally have his 'nads removed after years of you emotionally castrating him?

Or, I could've just gone with the ol' stand-by: Really? Seriously? Get a freakin' life, lady!

I really cannot stand people who feel the need to do things like this. I will admit that I should not have parked in the spot--but really--I was hurting no one. No one's life was in danger. I had no malice or ill intent. No one had been wronged in any way. There were several open disabled stalls. Several. Seriously. These people who feel the need to take upon themselves these things. I guess I should just feel pity for them. What miserable lives they must lead. These people who just can't keep their mouths shut. Reminds me of the other day when I was in Wal-Mart and this old lady, riding her store-supplied scooter of course, was asked by an employee if she needed help with anything, and this crotchety lady very meanly said "You guys say you have the lowest prices, but you don't! No, no...You don't!" Oh, shut your hole, ornery woman.

But back to the truck lady....I told Hamburglar maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt--maybe she has struggled for years with finding handicapped spots. Maybe she had had a bad day. Maybe this is just her "thing"--her emotional and social and political hobby. Whatever the reason, I am scouring the Letters to the Editor in the newspaper for the next few days, because she just seemed like an activist--the type that would use this incident as an opportunity to enlighten the rest of the community about the horrors of illegal disabled parking spot parkers. That would be awesome. Then I could write a rebuttal and defense. But then I'd have to print my name. Hmmmm... Better not do that.

What would you have told this fine lady?

ABCs of Thanksgiving

2009-11-20T08:00:00.000-08:00

Again this year, I give you my ABCs of Thanksgiving. I tried really hard not to repeat any from last year. New year--new things to be thankful for, right?

A is for anti-depressants. Can you imagine this world without anti-depressants? I shudder to think of it.

B is for Ben Gay. Need I say more? Minty fresh.

C is for crushed ice. Every cold beverage just tastes better when served with crushed ice. When I was a kid, we didn't have an ice machine/crusher in our fridge, so we had a little ice crusher appliance. That thing was awesome.

D is for delightfulness. I've told you about delightfulness. It's delightful.

E is for "Every Woman in the World" by Air Supply. Oh, Air Supply. You do supply the very air I breathe.

F is for Fox News. Fair and balanced.

G is for giblets. Mmmmmmm....giblets....

H is for heathens. They make me feel better about myself.

I is for interest. I love it. At least when I am earning it and not paying it.

J is for Jack Bauer. He's so brave.

K is for kidneys. I love my kidneys. May they remain healthy and stone-free for all the remaining days of my life!

L is for Lionel Ritchie. Say you, say me. Say it together, naturally.

M is for mittens. I love me a good mitten.

N is for 'nads. Remember--girls have 'nads too. Where would we be without them? Nowhere, that's where.

O is for Oklahoma. Now, that's a great state. And musical.

P is for poopy diapers. They keep dads humble.

Q is for quizzes. I'm a dork, I know. But I liked taking quizzes and tests in school.

R is for ridiculously good looking people. They provide a refreshing break from the homeliness that surrounds us.

S is for satsuma mandarin oranges. I've told you before about them. They are divine.

T is for "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Is there a better song out there? I think not. It builds and builds and builds to reach the ultimate summit of greatness.

U is for uber. Uber what, I'll let you decide. I just love to use the word "uber."

V is for Vixen. As in the reindeer. He's the best.

W is for wheelies. Remember popping those as a kid? So cool.

X is for x-rays. Remember, there are really only two real words that start with x. I am limited to x-rays and xylophones. And since I did xylophones last year, it is x-rays this year. And I even had to have an x-ray this year! So I really am thankful. Even if it was completely useless and showed nothing.

Z is for Zach from "Saved By the Bell." He was so dreamy.

And there you have it. Much to be thankful for...obviously. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!!

Meaningful Medical Mysteries

2009-11-12T09:36:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I think I have recovered from those "stones," or whatever the heck it was that I suffered from last week. I think I'm back from the brink. The brink of what, I'm not quite sure. Death? Not likely. Wanting to tear my entire abdominal and nether regions out of my body? Quite possibly.

During last week's medical mystery investigations, I learned a thing or two:

I learned that you haven't really lived until you have peed in a strainer. You know you're living the dream when you find yourself sifting urine.

I learned that doctors do not know everything. And that they don't appreciate jokes about the likelihood of getting a prescription for medical marijuana.

I learned that childbirth is not the worst pain I have ever felt. And that Vicodin does not solve everything. And that the dread of entering a germ-infested emergency room crowded with illegal aliens is even stronger than the desire to remove that pain.

I learned that asking for stronger pain medication makes you feel shameful and guilty--like an addict. Makes you feel like Paula Abdul.

I learned that kids don't care if you're sick.

I learned if you look and act and sound pathetic enough, you'll get in to see the doctor faster. I am really good at being pathetic.

I learned that Hamburglar is a good husband who will stay up with me all night to watch me puke and be pathetic.

I learned that waiting rooms for urgent care facilities do not bring out the best, most compassionate side of people. While waiting, I took a look around at the people in the room with me and their symptoms and decided that I was definitely next in line. Then--a teenage boy and his father walked in with a head injury. Sigh....The nerve! Why could he not have come in just a few minutes later?

I learned that it is indeed possible for a woman to go to the doctor and not have to take her pants off. How refreshing!

I learned that according to an article I read, sex is sometimes "a must." Yes, a must. While doing some of my own investigation into my symptoms, I came across an article talking about how people with my symptoms should refrain from having sex. But then the article added, "If sex is a must, then take these precautions: ..." What? If sex is a must? Really now. When is sex a must? If you're a prostitute maybe. I guess maybe if you're trying to get pregnant. But honestly. Puh. Lease. Show a little restraint, people. Obviously a man wrote that article.

I learned that saying the word "groin" is something I'm never quite comfortable with--even when speaking to a medical professional. It's just an ugly word. I much prefer the more accurate, aurally pleasing term of "nether regions." That just sounds so much nicer.

So....I learned all those things. Life lessons. Didn't really ever fully learn everything that was medically wrong with me. But you know...that's overrated, right?

Call a Spade a Spade

2009-11-11T07:43:00.000-08:00

Political correctness is killing us. Quite literally.

The investigation into the Ft. Hood shooting (aka terror attack) is still young, but all the early reports indicate that there was ample warning that this man, Hasan, was not someone who should have been in the US Army. And I absolutely believe that it is due to political correctness that he remained.

The fear of being seen as discriminatory, or having your arse sued is paralyzing our society. We've been paying for this warped thinking for years--and sadly, this last incident at Ft. Hood is another tragic example of what happens when we let political correctness cloud our judgment and common sense.

We've lost our way, people. We've lost our minds. My heart aches for the friends and families of those who were killed--especially knowing that this horror could have possibly been prevented. If this man's name had been Richard Smith, instead of Nidal Malik Hasan, and he had been some ultra-libertarian, "Christian" militant spewing his brand of nonsense, instead of an extremist Muslim spewing his, then the Army would've acted--and rightly so. And they would've felt OK doing it, because everyone knows that it's acceptable to mess with Christians. But Muslims? Never.

What the ? Wednesday

2009-11-04T06:30:00.000-08:00

So I have been MIA lately. Sorry about that. I've been busy. Passing stuff. All sorts of stuff. You know...passing time....gas....kidney stones. Yeah, kidney stones. Hooray!

I am sure you have heard how painful these jagged little buggers can be, and I can now testify of this truth: kidney stones suck.

I won't go into the graphic, horrific details of it all, suffice it to say, that I would not wish this on Nancy Pelosi (aka my worst enemy).

Somehow though, through the writhing pain, I feel like the passing of a kidney stone means I've earned a badge of honor. A notch in my belt. I feel so much more mature now. Or maybe just old.

I don't know about you, but when I think of kidney stones, I think of Kramer from Seinfeld. Remember when he passed his?

2. Yay for all the states out there who got their elections right and got rid of their losers and baggage. So many states got it right on so many things. Unfortunately, my state was not one of them. Surprise, surprise. Washington. What in the world am I going to do with you? Beautiful, but brainless.

3. Ok, don't laugh at me, but I went to thesaurus.com for the first time today to look up a synonym for the word "liberal." And guess what came up as one of the synonyms? Intelligent. Intelligent? That is a synonym for the word "liberal?" I think not. Seriously? I mean, I'm not saying that liberals can't be intelligent--I might think they're stupid, but that doesn't necessarily make them unintelligent--but I don't think liberal = intelligent. Who's writing this thesaurus anyways? If I look up "conservative," is "dumb" going to be a synonym? Or maybe just "unintelligent" to make it sound better? Well, of course, I looked it up, and let me tell you some of the flattering words that came up as synonyms for conservative: redneck, obstinate, stick-in-the-mud, bitter-ender, fuddy-duddy, fearful, unimaginative, and--my personal favorite--fogyish. Fogyish. hahaha! Sounds like a perfect description of me if I've ever heard one.

Gee, thanks thesaurus.com.

What the "Aitch?" Wednesday

2009-10-28T06:10:00.000-07:00

1. I'm not sure how Harry Reid sleeps at night. 'Nuff said.

2. I don't think Nancy Pelosi does sleep at night. I'm not sure she can even close her eyes. Botox and all... Not to mention the lies and hypocrisy she spews every day. It's gotta catch up to you eventually.

3. So you've heard about how Obama is still weighing his options on what to do with the strategy in Afghanistan. No matter that General McChrystal has made his recommendations. No matter. These things are not to be rushed, Obama tells us. He needs to really think it out. It's a matter of life and death.

Does anyone else find it ironic that he wants to spend all this time deliberating on what to do in Afghanistan, and yet has no problem rushing into turning our healthcare system upside down? Remember how he told us a long time ago that the time for talking was over and that we needed to get this reform done NOW?

Obama visited a Naval Air Station in Florida esterday, and told his military audience: “I will never rush the solemn decision of sending you into harm’s way. I won’t risk your lives unless it is absolutely necessary.’’

OK. I get that. Of course these things need to be thoroughly thought through. But why aren't you listening to the men on the ground? And why are you OK with putting every citizen into harm's way with this overreaching, ridiculous healthcare reform? I don't wish to equate our lives here to the imminent danger and threat that our armed forces face every day. It's a different kind of danger--but the comparison is still real. You may think I'm being dramatic, but I don't think so. These are matters of life and death.

Take a look at some of John Kerry's words. He called McChrystal's plan too ambitious, saying it "goes too far, too fast." Hmmm. Then he asked, "Absent any truly good choices, we must ask a simple question: What is doable? We don’t have to control every hamlet and village.’’ Hmmm again. Sounds familiar. Almost sounds like what those of us who are against this healthcare reform have been saying. It's too much--too fast....slow down. What is actually feasible? We don't have to be all things for all people. We don't have to control every aspect of people's lives. Apparently so in Afghanistan...but not in the good ol' USA.

But I guess it's not about what's really best for the country and best for the people and what the people really want. The people (and the military) want more troops in Afghanistan. The people don't want our healthcare system turned upside down. Apparently that doesn't matter though. It only matters what the far left wants. They want single-payer healthcare, they want the troops home NOW. So that's what needs to happen. Appease the left. It's not what the people want. I guess the sooner we get that through our thick skulls, the sooner we'll stop being disappointed.

The Audacity to Cope

2009-10-25T04:31:00.000-07:00

I purchased a Christmas gift yesterday. Check! One down, one hundred to go.

It is a little somethin' somethin' for an unnamed relative of mine who had the audacity to hope....and the audacity to vote for Barack Hussein Obama. For this, he must be punished. May it be his eternal shame. He will never live it down...at least for as long as I'm around.

Cha cha cha Chia.

That's right, I got him an Obama Chia Head. A Chia Head to be his constant reminder of the consequences of his cha cha cha choices. I hope he puts it somewhere where he'll see it every day of his life. I've shown you these before. But what I didn't know then was that the Obama Chia Head comes in two fabulous poses. There is the "determined pose," as seen here:

And there is the "happy pose," as seen here:

Hmmmmm....decisions, decisions. After much pondering, I chose the determined pose, because let's face it--there is nothing to be happy about. No joy. Only shame. If they would've had a "shameful pose," then I totally would've gone for that. Plus--the happy pose looks a little goofy to me....unlike the determined pose, which is just fabulous. So for now, I have the determined pose, and it will be a reflection of the utter determination that Obama has shown in sending this nation to pot. Literally...to smoking pot. And may it be a symbol of my determination that this relative of mine realize the full scope and gravity of his mistake so that he may never make it again.

I've never owned a Chia of any sort--no Chia Pet, no Chia heads, no Chia---what other Chias are there? In any case, I've never been the proud owner of a fine Chia product, so I'm not sure how labor-intensive they are. I'm unaware of what kind of maintenance will be required. What kind of trimming and watering and tending is necessary to fully cultivate a beautiful, thick, lush Chia head is unknown to me. But I hope it takes work. A lot of work. May it be a symbol of the hard labor we all are doing to pay for the mess that Obama and this ridiculous excuse for a Congress has created for us. Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot.

Wow, this Chia Head gift is so deep...on so many levels.

Ahhh yes. Chia Head. He's gonna love it, I just know it.

Oh, and I decided I am also going to send him a photograph of myself--just like Obama gave a photo of himself as a gift to the queen of England. What better way to say "I love you" than a photograph of me? Wonderful, wonderful me? Honestly? Is there a better way? I think not. I hope he puts my photo right next to the Chia Head. Those are definitely two things that should adorn every mantel.

PS--Did you know that they make Chia George Washington and Chia Abraham Lincoln? Now that's cool....

What Just Happened?

2009-10-22T10:59:00.000-07:00

I've just experienced a traumatic, life-changing event in my home, and I'm not sure if I am dealing with it well. I am disoriented, confused, and unsure of where to turn for help. I feel like a major, stabilizing force in my life has just been ripped out from underneath me.

We switched from Dish Network and Verizon to Comcast Cable.

The horror of it all!!

So now, 3 of the most important things in my life--television, internet, and the telephone--have all changed. Where can I turn for peace?

The internet service change doesn't really affect me too much--mostly just all those poor souls who will try to send me emails to my old account. Oh well. If it's urgent, they know where to find me, right? The speed is faster, so that's good.

The most traumatic of the adjustments has been the TV switch. I miss my 30 second skip on the remote. I miss my huge DVR space. I miss knowing where all the important buttons are on the remote. I miss watching FOX News in High Definition. And I'm quite sure that Hamburglar misses watching Megyn Kelly in HD too. Sigh....

On the good side, I quite like the On-Demand features of cable--there are many great shows and movies that I can watch whenever I want. Big Red has watched every Berenstain Bears episode you can think of. AND....I now can watch CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation)--taking me back to my good ol' Canadian days. Mr. Dressup is on there...This Hour has 22 Minutes, and many other great shows are on there...and maybe now I will be able to see Rita MacNeil or Roch Voisine sometime on the TV. Oh, how I miss seeing and hearing Rita MacNeil sing about her beloved Nova Scotia. And how I miss seeing Ann Murray and Roch Voisine sing fabulous Christmas duets! I did find out the hard way though, that after 8 pm, CBC is not a good channel to be watching. Holy cow..the nudity and the swearing that I happened upon. Yikes! Those Canadians and their liberal spirit....

So....farewell, Dish Network. Farewell. You and your whole negotiation with Fisher Broadcasting, resulting in no ABC for 4 months, made me lose a whole season of Lost. And for that, you must pay.

Pop Goes the World

2009-10-18T21:45:00.000-07:00

I really, really want a certain hour and a half of my life back. Well, actually there are probably hundreds of hours of my life that I would love to have back (the movie Titanic, anyone?), but specifically, I want the hour and a half I spent glued to the television watching the infamous flying muffin balloon soar across the Colorado plains, thinking that there was a small child inside.

I caught this story just as it broke, and I watched it through to its rather anti-climactic end. Was I glad that the 6 year old boy wasn't hurt? Yes. Was I scared that maybe he had fallen out? Yes. Did I really, really want him to walk out of that balloon when it finally landed? Absolutely! And I could tell Shepard Smith really wanted that too. What a great story that would have made! Such a disappointment when the balloon landed and it was empty. Empty!! Where was the fun in that?!

And then for the whole thing to be a hoax! Ugh. Makes me ill. As soon as I saw the dad on TV, I knew it was a hoax. Definitely something creepy going on with that dude.

Sigh... What a waste of my life. An hour and a half stuck in front of the telly watching nothing but idiotic, manipulative nonsense. Such a change from the top-notch, high quality viewing that usually goes on around here.

Oh well, if nothing else, it spared me from having to watch real news and hear one more Democrat lie to me about how health care reform is going to bless my life. A refreshing distraction, indeed.

What the ? Wednesday

2009-10-14T12:26:00.000-07:00

Things that make me go "What the he!!?" this week:

1. What the hell is wrong with this country and the people in it? Really? What? I recently got into a Facebook fiasco where I engaged in a political discussion about health care with a friend of a facebook friend. I was basically called un-Christian and heartless because I didn't approve of the gov't proposed plans out there. I wasn't called a racist, so I guess I have that going for me.

I was told that health care is a civil right. I responded to this gentleman that health care is NOT a civil right, and that he should go and check the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. People just throw the word "right" around nowadays all loosey-goosey and willy-nilly. They have a "right" to this and a "right" to that, and dammit, the government better give it to them! I'm so sick of it. I really am. I am sick of these ignoramuses (or is it ignorami?) who think the government can just take care of them and wash all their troubles away...the class warfare, the race-warfare, the pitting of the haves against the have-nots. It is sad. It is angering. And it is entirely un-American.

2. On a lighter note (I think), there is a man in my step class who loves to watch the women in the step class. He is a nice guy--I've had a few conversations with him, and he's actually pretty good at the steps. But he is always looking around, taking ganders at the women, checking out their arses, and it makes me very uncomfortable. Because he's not looking at ME! The nerve! I am so offended! What the heck?! What does her butt have that mine doesn't? Ok, don't answer that.

Actually, he does look at me, and everyone else in the class, and it is very distracting. Maybe he's just bored, but I think not. He's usually the lone man in the class, so perhaps he's just basking in being surrounded by 25 sweaty women in spandex. A fantasy come true!!

3. Lastly, a question that has been plaguing me now for months. Why do we, according to Obama, respect Iran's "right" to peaceful nuclear power, when we don't even respect our own right to it?

Have a fabulous Wednesday!

Totally 80s Tuesday

2009-10-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to one of my favorite 80s accessories to mock. The shoulder pad. The blessed, beautiful shoulder pad.

I am not sure why it was desirable to have women look like football players back in the 80s, but it was. Oh, how it was! Perhaps it was the height of the power-woman age. Women didn't want the soft, feminine lines. They wanted the hard, straight, power lines. I'm not sure. All I know is all my dresses and many of my shirts had built-in shoulder pads. And if you weren't so fortunate to have the built-in ones, you could always buy them separately.

Seems to me, that there was a lot of overcompensating going on back then. A lot of big things. A lot of stuffing of things. Some women stuffed their bras to make their bosoms appear larger (this was before the day of padded, push-up bras). Others stuffed their shirts to make their shoulders appear larger. Yes, indeed, a lot of stuffing. The bras, the shoulders, the.....well, uh... you get the picture.

I for one am glad to not have to wear shoulder pads anymore. I have broad shoulders as it is. Although, they sure would be nice to have on those rare days, very rare days, when I need a soft shoulder to cry on. Not a bony one.

Nobel Piece (of crap) Prize

2009-10-09T11:52:00.000-07:00

So Obama won the Nobel Piece Prize. As in piece of sheet prize. Whaaaaa?

Actually, I am not really surprised, as the worldwide liberal lefties love the guy. And why wouldn't they? He goes around the world apologizing for America, weakens our defenses, insults our allies, and makes fabulous, feel-good speeches. So I guess that's all it takes. A few speeches calling for world peace and nuclear disarmament, and BAM! You win!

One of my facebook friends, Kelly, did point out to me this morning that Obama did hold that beer summit between Professor Gates and the Cambridge police officer. He worked that all out real nice-like. So he does have that on his resume of peace-making accomplishments.

It's actually kind of funny...if you overlook the angering fact that he wins 1.4 million dollars and receives validation. But the whole thing reveals the true charade the whole Nobel Peace prize is. I've always thought that it was obviously a deeply political, asinine joke. Jimmy Carter? Al Gore? Both Nobel Peace Prize winners. Obama's win is just another indication of how ridiculous the whole thing is. Although, at least with Carter and Gore you could make a case that they actually DID something. Whether that something was worthy or not could be argued, but at least there was something to argue about. Since Obama has done nothing in his life noteworthy, other than give a few good speeches, there are no qualifications to really talk about. So the world is left wondering why, oh why, he won this honor.

The fact that Obama could win it, and Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul could not, is hilarious! I would love to know who the other nominees were. Probably people who actually did something. At some point, even the most crazed Obama fans--the "yes, we can" lunatics--have to admit that this whole slobbering love affair, as Bernie Goldberg so accurately coined it, is out of control. It is not healthy. And completely unfounded.

So there you have it. Obama. A Nobel Peace Prize winner. Obama says he is "humbled." Embarrassed should be more like it.