Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts

Friday, December 24, 2010

Is Your Mamma Gonna Miss Ya Now You're Gone?

The incident occured Sunday October 31st around 0530.   The only witnesses to the crime were the handsome couple toodling down I-15.  The children were rendered unconscious from hours of Halloween partying and sugar withdrawl.

Witness statements.....
     Officer Handsome:  I think a jackrabbit just jumped in front of us.
     Lovely Lady:  What the *&^%$#@!  Aahahaha!  Something just flew at us!

Despite the dark nature of the night sky Officer Handsome signals and moves to the right.  Upon reaching the off-ramp he completes his stop and exits the SUV with an LED flash light.  He examines the bloodless carnage and returns to debrief.  Handing over the flashlight to Lovely Lady, he snickers and insists she should find interesting the scene at the front of the vehicle.  With much trepidation and a sense of foreboding, she rounds the SUV and finds herself face to carcass with an extremely large, and quite substantially dead owl.  Having known this is what she would find, she shrieks with pride, "I told you so!".  Then with the fear of God like ice water in her soul.....she runs down the off ramp pawing at the arteries in her own neck and shielding her ears from her own terrified screams.  It appears to be a case of suicide by SUV/Cop.

The body remains afixed with a rigid determination to the front of the vehicle.  Upon reaching Cedar City and the breaking of dawn across the morning sky, they were able to peer into the dead yellow eyes of the owl.  Contemplating removal of the body from the grill, their decision was made by the quickly growing crowd of excited Asian tourists.  The handsome couple were forced to move on with the corpse still firmly implanted, amid the flash of high quality Asain cameras.

The couple made many friends as they crossed Southern Utah, Arizona, the sinful and ugly Nevada, into the unsavory village of Barstow California.  People love to be entertained as they drive the Godforsaken desert.  This day, their dreams were realized.  Many hand gestures, smiles, gasps, and screams were exchanged.  For the few tenderhearted still remaining in the soul parched Nevada, there were tears shed as the owl triumphantly sped at great speeds, past their waning vehicles.

Upon entering Barstow, the town where life no longer has meaning, the handsome couple prepared to lay their new friend to rest.  Lovely Lady retrieved her secret stash of surgical gloves, secreted away in the secret compartment, for a scene such as this that she secretly knew would happen one day.  Pressing them into the caring, yet strong and manly hands of Officer Handsome, she exclaimed, "Don't touch that foulness with your bare hands!"  The bird was swiftly removed with little trouble, despite it's ability to ride the grill through four states.  Pictures were taken to document the momentous occasion.  The bird was toed by Officer Handsome just to be sure no signs of life remained after the arduous journey.  Nope, it was truely dead.  It was time for goodbyes and a few photo ops from the new crowd gathering at the Carl's Jr.  Farewell friend that gave us such memories!  Farewell.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Day #19 Nicknames I Have And Why I Have Them





Mariah: The name of the Wind in 'Paint Your Wagon'. It's an awesome western where this chick ends up with 2 hubbies during the California Gold Rush. Not really sure why my family decided to call me this but here are some of the lyrics of the song.

Away out here they got a name
For rain and wind and fire
The rain is Tess, the fire Joe,
And they call the wind Maria


Maria blows the stars around
And sends the clouds a flyin'
Maria makes the mountains sound
Like folks were up there dying

Out here they got a name for rain
For wind and fire only
But when you're lost and all alone
There ain't no word but lonely

And I'm a lost and lonely man
Without a star to guide me
Maria blow my love to me
I need my girl beside me


 Mariechka:  Throwing in a little Hungarian/Croatian to round things out.  My family used to tell my sister/cousin and I that we were Hungarian princesses.  Long story.  Sort of true.


Amyah:  This one is from my Grandma.

Soup:  This came from my maiden name.  One of my friends in Jr. High called me Peasoup and shortened it to Soup.

Pizza:  This is a given.  Most people mispronounce my maiden name and don't say Peezee, but Peck zuh, which I guess is like pizza to most children.

Easy Peczuh:  Hilarious considering my minimal dating history.  This would be like calling a tall fat man Tiny.

Ame or Ames:  This obviously comes straight from Amy shortened to one syllable for those of us that can't roll that second syllable off of our tongues.  I like these.

Maloo and Pooger:  From my dad.

Amarie: From my mama.  It combines my first and middle name.

Babe:  I am pretty partial to this one.

Mama:  My fave.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Day #17 Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why

I truly find myself hysterical sometimes.  I stalled on this challenge.  Too much pressure to preform. 

I struggle right now whether to be straight about my answer here or not.  There are lots of people that I wouldn't mind trying their life out for a day.  I could live with being rich, I could live with having toned glutes and abs.  Frankly I could live with being Max, which would mean drinking chocolate milk and hanging out naked all day.  I wouldn't even mind being the wife o' my crush of the day.  But if truth be told I would like to be someone.....and I don't even know who she is.......that has the energy to do it all; be a fantastic, sweet tempered mother, a smoking hot wife, a real Betty in the kitchen, the skill to bring all of my home decorating fantasies to fruition, the wherewithall to squeeze in some sort of intense jump training workout, and the baffling ability to be lead by the Spirit in all my doings....to know what it would be like to be able to do the right thing without feeling like every step I took wasn't happening underwater with weights around my extremities....to have peace in my home and in my heart, to not struggle with feeling like I am tempted beyond my capacity at every turn.  I don't know who this person is.....but I wouldn't mind being her for a day.  P.S. It would really be icing on the cake if she had great hair to boot.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Day #15

Day #15 Ipod on shuffle and list the first 10 songs.....

1.  Prayer   by Bon Jovi
2.  It Don't Matter to The Sun   by Garth Brooks
3.  Cowboy  by Kid Rock
4.  Unbelieveable  by EMF
5.  Not That Different   by Collin Raye
6.  I Love To See The Temple  children's song book
7.  Is Your Mama Gonna Miss You   by Bryan Adams
8.  Cool Water   by Mary Robbins
9.  Please Don't Go Girl........eeep!  NKOTB
10.  Need You Now ...Lady A

Well that was uneventful........it didn't get anything new on there.  Strange, very strange indeed.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Day #13

Day #13  A letter to someone that has hurt me recently.

Dear Bread Bowl,
     You crusty little sucker with your pious smirk.  Your insides are soft and delicious.  You hold things I greatly desire; chicken salad, creamy soups.  You tempt me despite the high caloric intake.  My weakness for you is repaid with your injurous crust slicing through my tender thumb.  You will live long enough to regret this....as I rip you piece by piece to feed to the birds off of the pier.
                                                                                      Ever,
                                                                                               A

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Day #5

Day #5 A picture of a place I've been......
Obviously I don't get out much.  This is a picture of Buffalo Bill's in Nevada.  We stopped there on our previous trips to Disneyland.  This would be the buffalo shaped pool and also Jack's favorite part of the trip.  Yep, that's right.  I forked out a couple grand and this is what my kid liked.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Day #4

A Habit I Wish I Didn't Have.......

I'm sure I've spoken of it before, but he actual diagnosis is Horizontal Stacking Disorder with a side of Cleaning Imposed Attention Deficit.....
I love clean counter tops with a bowl of fruit and vintage canisters, but I don't have them.  I love a clean and stylish night stand with a mod lamp and my cool jewelry stand, but I don't have one.  I adore a clean dresser top with a picture of my Nuggets, but I don't have that either. 
Instead I have counter tops covered with homework and tons of little kid art and recipes.  My night stand is covered in scriptures, a dictionary, a mammoth load of books.  And my dresser is covered in Max's movies and loose change.
In theory I can clean all of those things but going from beginning to end is exhausting.  I get so sidetracked by wanting to put EVERYTHING away at one time that it gets nutty. I run from room to room and in every room find something new to clean. 
So I just live with the bad habit.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Day #3

A picture of me and my friends.  My girl Jodi.  My sista Joey.  My friend Heather.  This is the best I could do in the picture department.  Cabo Wabo in Vegas, with food to die for and friends too.  The lady that took our picture kept telling us we had great skin.  I guess I can live with that.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

It's All Fun And Games Until........

One day Ri and her very goodest friend Regan decided to paint each other's faces.  I don't happen to have a lot of face paint since I have up clowning.  So I pulled out an old tube of lipstick and figured that would do.  Not much later they show up with their faces completely 'Innsbruck Bronze'.   They had begun by only painting certain parts but succumbed to the pull of the lipstick.  The funniest part.......it wouldn't come off.  Soap and water wouldn't cut through it and I didn't want to burn their faces off with any adult facial cleaning products.  We even tried lotion.  We finally settled on some 'Clean and Clear' stuff and then I had to moisturize the heck out of their skin.  They still had sparkle around their hairline and in their EYEBROWS along with a healthy glow on their skin.

I understand the need to take things a little too far......once you start you just can't stop.  I found a razor in the bathtub when I was little.  I felt like I could really make myself into a true beauty.  I shaved some arm hair and then decided........to clean up the eyebrows.  A very short swipe of the razor later......I had no eyebrows.  Unfortunately it took more than a damp rag and powerful acne cleaner to restore me to my former self.  My mother wasn't as easily tricked as I had assumed and realized that there was something severely wrong when I wrapped a scarf around my forehead and assumed a pirate brogue.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Why do I laugh????


I have all of the nuggies in the car the other day toodling off on some errand and I hear this conversation, which cracked me up.......

Jack:  Hey Mom, I thought I just saw Isaac down in that trailer court bouncing a basket ball with his hand.
Mads:  Me too.
Jack:  Maddy you don't even know who Isaac is.
Mads:  Yes I do!
Jack: Okay Maddy.......how many arms did he have?  (this is very significant because Isaac only has one arm, also if any normal person were asked this question, they would then ask themselves why this would be significant to Jack and probably change their standard two arm answer.....nope)
Mads:  TWO!
Jack:  Maddy you don't know anything!  He does not!  He only has one.
Mads:  That's what I meant Jack....he has one arm........on each side!

This has seriously cracked me up for days.....
*********
Today I was a guest speaker in Relief Society and miracle of miracles, I did not go up in flame.  Probably God is waiting for me to finish with my mistake making so the fireball  will be awe inspiring........not the point though.  I was comparing myself to Jack.....super sensitive, not a real people person, not willing to try when things look daunting, shy, and not very willing to be creative because that is risking too much.....One of my very favorite people in my ward came up after and said....."When you started comparing yourself to one of your kids, I thought it would be Maddy.  She is so out there, such a people person, so beautiful and self confident."  Sadly I laughed that she had been snookered by my wily ways.  All Maddy got from me was quick wit and the inability to pick up her dirty laundry.  Her sweet spirit and extrovert personality came straight from her dadda.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Who Would You Like To Meet?


The other night we were going home after picking the kids up from Goose's........it was datenight.  We were asking the kids, "If you could meet anyone, who would you like to meet?".    Jack immediately piped up and hollered "Old MacDonald!"   We laughed our heads off.  Ri wants to meet Tony Hawk (skate boarder) and Mads wants to meet the Jonas Brothers (this makes me cringe).  Max just said yeah to everyone elses choices.
********************
Today Mads asked me, "Mom what if you were a 21 year old midget?"   I guess that is something to ponder :)

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Housekeeping Monthly in May 1955 says............

  1. Have dinner ready: Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal — on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him, and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospects of a good meal are part of the warm welcome needed.
  2. Prepare yourself: Take 15 minutes to rest so you will be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift.
  3. Clear away the clutter: Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too.
4. Prepare the children: Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands hand faces if they are small, comb their hair and if necessary, change their clothes. They are little
treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

5. Minimize the noise: At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of washer, dryer,
dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him.
Greet him with a warm smile and be glad to see him.

6. Some don'ts: Don't greet him with problems or complaints. Don't complain if he's late
for dinner. Count this as minor compared to with what he might have gone through that
day.
7. Make him comfortable: Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie
down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and
offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to
relax and unwind.

8. Listen to him: You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival
is not the time. Let him talk first.

9. Make the evening his: Never complain if he does not take you out to dinner or to
other places of entertainment; instead try to understand his world of strain and pressure,
his need to be home and relax.

10. The goal: To make your home a place of peace and order, where your husband can
can relax.

Would I.......could I........ I am not at all making fun of this. I actually wish it were more like this. On the eve of another week of training (ie.......home without protection from the children) I am wishing to time travel to the 1950's. I could wear the cutest dresses!!! heels, bows in my hair and my Superman would be home at 5:00 pm sharp.

The real deal is more like this.....
1. Dinner will be made and eaten long before he arrives. Even if there are any left overs he will refuse to eat them, turning to the box of Captain Crunch. The children will lament the empty box in the morning. Crying with dismay as I screech at them to move faster.

2. I am prepared for his arrival by either being out of the house with after school activities while he is changing uniforms to head out the door again.......or I will be unconscious with a bobby pin in my bangs and my favorite cowboy pajamas on. Most likely I will be drooling on the sheets or asleep in a book. His day may or may not have been boring.......18 hour drive or a bloody wreck. I may not know for days.

3. The clutter will be right were I left it when I drug off to bed. The homework will be on the counter, the puzzles on the kitchen table. My ADD has equipped me to begin putting the laundry away but not to finish.....therefore there will be a stack of clothes covering the couch.

4. The children will be prepared and asleep. Dandy, if only I were awake.

5. If he comes home in the dead of night, the noise will be only the fans giving us the breeze to take us through a good night. If he arrives during dinner I will be unable to quell the onslaught of "DADDY! DADDY! I did a back handspring and *blank's* dad got drunk while they were camping. Maddy threw all of her Care bears down the stairs. Popcorn, popcorn! Can I ride the four wheeler?" These are all shouted at once. And probably because they haven't seen Daddy for two days.

6. If I am awake I will try not to greet him with complaints.......the sheer volume of my screams and profuse weeping might give me away though. I have compassion over the fact that he had to clean up brains, change a tire on the freeway with semis speeding by, and kick someone out of college for drugs and alcohol.

7. How I would love to make him comfortable. Most likely he will have time to enter the closet and emerge in other work clothes. If I am lucky we will pass in the bathroom. I cannot give comfort. Next time I will leave a note, "Dr. Pepper is in the fridge and super size box of popcorn is on the shelf. Love you babe."

8. I do however listen. He will say where he is off to and his expected time or re-arrival. This, will be a gross miscalculation.

9. Make the evening his.........I sure will. He will be all alone at work without the decibels high enough to render one permanently deaf. He will be without food, hugs, kisses, homework, tumbling or snuggling, but the evening will belong to him. The day of strain and pressure will seep eerily into the night, with no one to mark it but himself.

10. Well, he sleeps well when he gets there, so I have to assume he feels peaceful enough.

This was not a complaint. The realities of a new century are stark. I am going to buy an A line skirt, an apron, some heals and a steak. I will meet this goal yet.

Friday, August 28, 2009

My New Motto

I do love a clean house......really I do. I just can't seem to get from cluttered to clean. I start off in one area and bounce around distractedly from one room to another. I have ADD in the cleaning area of my brain. I'm pretty sure if I were to have a CT scan it would show a pile of books, papers, laundry baskets and a wee farm full of cows, just like it had been copy and pasted right on to the cleaning part of my brain (that is in the hypothalmus or is it hypocampus?).

I sometimes wonder if I could get a diagnosis and medical coverage. Maybe my health insurance would pay for a maid. I wonder where that would fall in the DSM IV?

Until then.........I say, "A clean house is the sign of a wasted life.".

Monday, April 20, 2009

How Could I Have Been Surprised?


I really try not to publicize my opinions on this blog. I try to protect myself from conspiracy, weapon removal, person of interest, or a dirty background should I a) adopt or b) run for political office. But this time I can't contain myself.

There I was...........sitting in a hotel room glued to the flat screen. Since our recent T.V. diet, consisting of ......no T.V.......once we were in front of one, we couldn't pull ourselves away. We were watching House Hunters, waiting for Max to finally plunge sleepward. I love House Hunters, and it was pretty late at night so I didn't have a big selection. Having already had a heavy dose of The Soup, I was sated and just staring ahead. Now commercial wise I know there is some garbage out there when you hit late night viewing. But considering that I was only watching HGTV, not something baseless and nasty like CNN, E, or the Comedy channel, where I know they are corrupt and lacking moral judgement.......I felt safe.

I won't give the name of the heap of dung I saw......free advertising passed out among my staunch million readers.....just wouldn't be right. I'm pondering the age old question whether the family on T.V. should go for the farm house with lots of land and large house that needs updating or the move in ready at the top of their budget. I vote for the move in ready. The melamine kitchen in the farmhouse it going to cost a pretty penny to replace. Time to cut to a commercial. HGTV really knows how to leave you hanging. No wonder I am an addict. The commercial has a couple at dinner. He is ignoring her, texting, not talking, being boring and self centered. I'm thinking that this is a blind date. Then the guy gets up to leave and we find out that the couple is married. The words to the website you are supposed to look at comes up and there is a wedding ring rolling around in the words. Then I think maybe it was a really bad jewelry commercial.....like he should make up to her that he is a dolt, with a nice piece of bling. Superman and I look at each other and wonder what we just saw. So Superman with his many talents, whips out the laptop. Soon he is laughing. I still think it was a really cruddy jewelry commercial. Nope. It was a commercial for adultery. If you are stuck in a marriage and divorce isn't an option, you can still find your soul mate to cheat with. Just tap your keypad, put in your criteria and if you don't have a hot fling to your satisfaction......money back.

There are so many things I could say...........but I will just leave it at that.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Save yourself........RUN!



If you are anything like me, I suspect even if you don't want to be ..........you are, you have played out little scenarios in your head. What if we were carjacked.......what would I do? What if there were a fire, tornado, earthquake, hazardous waste spill.......what would I do? When I say what would I do, as a mother, I mean what would I do to protect the love nuggets. And yes I have thought of these things, so I felt fairly prepared in my head.
Yesterday my capability and devotion were truly put to the test.......and I may have failed. I'm not sure if was the age of the battery, the fact that I was holding a 'Presidency Meeting' in the parking lot while Madison touched every button and light, or the fact that as I waited for Ri and Jack in the school parking lot....I turned off the car and left the radio on so that Mads could sing to Alison Krause and work up a good cry. Either way, the battery was confirmed dead when I tried to leave school.
Jason was home, but he was working so hard I didn't want to interupt. I know how to jump the battery, I just had to find a willing participant. I called one of my best friends thinking she would still be in the same parkinglot that I was. She hurried over. Strangely her battery was under her back seat. We get all set up. We hook up the cables properly. I stretch the cables over to her car and find that I am just a hair short. So, not wanting to have live wires dangling we unhook and find her cables, which are longer. This time we hook up feeling like old pros! I get in her back seat and put on one pincer. Sparks! Flame! Combustion! I question the validity of this........I'm sure that shouldn't happen. Do I stop? NO! I put the other pincer on......more sparks. I back out of the car and stand next to mine. We see smoke coming from the batteries. My friend and I book it away from the car and scream for the only male within hearing distance to save us. We do not take the cables off. We do not remove the children from the car which is smoking. We flap our hands and squeal.
The 'Man' comes over. The cables are hot. There is still smoke. He takes the cables off of the batteries. Even the lines are hot. He throws them to the ground. We find out that both of our batteries are now dead.
Finally the 'Man' fixes everything while we try to make excuses for our little mistake. As the smoke clears we realize that we left the children in a car that we could have blown up. I have no shame in attaching the cables to the wrong charges.....whatever....I do have intense shame over leaving the kids sitting there staring out of the windshield while I flap my hands and remove MYSELF from harm. I know.......maybe there was no threat of them blowing sky high.....but still, I always thought I would save them first.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

I've Been Tryin' To Get Down To The Heart Of The Matter.........

Even if, even if you don't love me any more. Thanks Don Henley. What I'm really trying to say here is that auditory issues aren't my only problem. You could make a fairly firm case for me falling somewhere on the Autism spectrum. My inability to cope with sick and unnatural things spills over sensory boundaries to tactile peculiarity. Come on now...........I know some of you have the same thing going on down at your house!

Velour.............
Better known as Satan's track suit. This stuff is made purely of hebee gebee's. When I was little I had this shirt that I called my spaghetti shirt. It was royal blue velour and had rainbow colored lines on the stretchy knit material cuffs. If I wore this shirt I was P.O.'ed for the day! I can't bear the feeling of velour rubbing on my hands. I could literally crawl out of my skin. My kids have had baby outfits made of velour..........if I ever dress them in one..........yeah, I have to wrap them in a blanket in order to hold them so that I don't get any direct skin contact.

Sponges........
Okay I can't fathom that could be used for contraception.......what a diabolical creation. Sponges were not meant to be touched by human hands. When I own a robot to do all of my chores I will then buy her sponges. Until then I do not use them. Right now I have to stop blogging to ball my fists so I can't possibly feel sponge.................ugh. Dry sponges are even worse! Whose with me on that one? Let's hear a little cheer. Sponge also covers many forms of synthetic foam material. I can sleep on an egg carton mattress per say, but only if someone can get it onto the bed and covered with a sheet before I touch it.

Packing Foam.......
You know the kind made of a zillion little foam balls pressurized together and molded into a shape..........that stuff makes noise when you touch it. Not only will I not touch it because I do not want to illicit either the squeak or the rubbing sound (grit your teeth, you can get through this...) but I don't appreciate being in the same hearing range of ANYONE touching the foam. These are the times at Christmas when I excuse myself and go to the bathroom and contemplate my true skin age until the packing foam is discarded.

Socks........
After years of self talk and fits of rage I can now wear socks without going off the deep end. I try not to wear them........but sometimes you just have to man up and put on a pair of socks. When I was little I can remember days when I had to wear socks and I could barley function for the day. They are so restraining I feel like I have to fight someone near me just to get free. The WORST thing you could do with a pair of socks on your feet...........get in bed. Oh OH OH!!! Oh just stop the mental imaging........ggggggrrrrrrr. That is like being in two jails at the same time. The socks are already there and THEN you have covers on your feet. That is like putting a plastic bag over your head......how can you even breath?

Dirt...........
Thank goodness for garden gloves and work gloves. Dirt on my hands......oh the dryness and tightness of skin. If I ever find myself in such a situation.........I'm shuddering hold on..........I have to ball my fists up so I can't feel the skin pulling. This might have some bearing on the 12 open bottles of lotion around the house.

Warm air on my face...........
It feels like suffocating. Warm air in my nose, gag, in my mouth yuck. I have to shut the vents in the car so they warm air can't penetrate my orifices. It's like breathing some one's saliva.

Mechanical Pencils........
Okay this is mostly an auditory issue. I like mechanical pencils because they come in such cute designs and they are always sharp BUT.........they make a high pitched noise when you write on some kinds of paper with them. This is a true statement. So in many cases it's better to err on the side of a pen.

Chalk............
First of all if you touch it there is that dust like film that makes your hands dry. Yes that is a problem. Then the sound.......I think that sound is probably played on the airwaves of Hell. The rubbing sound is the one I am talking about, not the high squeak you get now and then.....that's nothing. It's the RUBBING that I can't deal with. I always felt immense peace when my teacher would put that little sleeve on her chalk. Then I knew it wasn't touching her hand. It was the only way I could fathom becoming a teacher.........I knew I didn't have to bare hand chalk.

I know there are other people out there that agree with some of these, or something LIKE these. Don't think I'm the only nut. I'll have to cover my social issues at a later date just to reaffirm that I do fit somewhere on a social spectrum disorder in the DSM.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Verbal Assault



I'm probably really putting myself out here........revealing my kryptonite....but are there ever any words that really rub you the wrong way? We have banned words in our house. I'll only give you a few because I can totally see people using these against me. I beg you not to. They send me into a state of frenzy.

#1 Poo

I can handle POOP but not sans the P. That is just SO stinkin' ugly. I mean seriously I hear adult say this even. How can you consider yourself an adult and say this word? There are so many other possibilities.....crap, defecate, spoor, dookey, shat. Come on world......lets let this one go......no more poo. (Sheesh, I almost can't even type it.)


#2 Moist

This word makes me want to vomit. All I can think of is spit when I hear this word. Spit in the corner of your mouth......spittle flying out of an open mouth, snot, mucus drainage, pus. Please, no matter how good my meat or cake is NEVER tell me it is moist. I don't even care if you say 'Man lady, you make a damp pork chop!' or 'That is one wet pudding cake you got there!' Lets all make a pact now to steer clear of the word moist. Oooh I still see spit stringing from dry chapped lips.....make it stop.


#3 Belch

No joke, that is one step away from puking in your mouth. I'm not even that offended if you let one rip.......just call it something else. Or better yet don't even name it.


I know that I have auditory issues. Really, I am aware. The ugly words are only the tip of the ice berg......I get insane over hearing food. I may actually commit a violent act over the sound of someone chewing ice. I have had to ban the chewing of cereal and popcorn while I am near. I have been known to put a pillow over my head to stave off the sound of taffy in ones mouth. I'm making myself sick right now. Bananas.......you can't help that they are soft and sticky...but they are, and that is exactly how they sound in your mouth. I almost can't eat them myself just because I am tempted to swallow the whole bite just to avoid the chewing sounds coming from my own mouth.

I don't even think behavior therapy can help me.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Carpet Padding??!! Really?




Note: before we begin.........there are some disturbing 'milk' pictures out there......so be careful when you google.

There I was, going to buy groceries. We nip out to the nearest Walmart (God's gift, Satan's empire). I decide to buy some of the refrigerated food first and take it out to 'the sport van' since it is mind numbingly cold here in God's country.........and I can't fit all of the love bugs in the cart with all of the food. (Duggars.........I love you, how do you do it? I guess that whole partner thing really works......anyway, we don't have partners). So the love bugs and I buy the cold items and I take the goods out to the car through the pelting ice, known to some as snow. I go back, finish the shopping and race back out to throw everyone/thing in the car. I'm strapping Mini Bob in the car seat and Ri decides to help load the remaining food. She looks put off and concerned. Like the beast I am I go back to see why she can't just put the bags in so she can get in and get warm. Then I see the horrible disaster that will follow us for weeks...........

Notice on the milk jug.........that circle on the side. At some pivotal moment that area gave away and all of the milk up to that point leaked out into the back of the van.

Okay...........seriously another reason I was in such a hurry is because it was date night......and believe me people, I take my dating VERY seriously.

We stash the rest of the goods in various areas of the van and slosh home. As I am taking the kids/food in Jason whips out the 'Little Green Clean Machine'. That's not a pet name..........it's a carpet cleaner. He slurps up all the milk he can.........which is freezing into the carpet at this point and then adds tons of hot water. Oh, happy day, we leave and go on our date. I stop thinking about the milk.

Days later the weather begins to warm up. I open the van door to put the baby in and a stench like no other slams into my face. I start looking for missing sippy cups, did a diaper get left in here? raccoons, squirrels, unreported vomit, ........yeah, I'm too dumb to remember the spilled milk. I find myself not wanting to roll down the window and chat with friends while I wait for the kids at school. I try not to put myself in situations where I will have to give rides to anyone. When I am too ashamed to park in a public lot and open the van doors Duh! I realize the milk must not have come out of the carpet.

Jason tries one more valiant effort to clean the carpet by pouring 15 gallons of hot water in the back of the van. When that fails to impede the grotesque odor Jason has to pull out the carpet. No joke did you know that there is actually carpet padding under automotive carpet? It's not like I toodle around in there all day in bare feet and lounge on the floor reading. Seriously.......carpet padding? Who knew?

A giant box of lavender and baking soda carpet deodorizer and it's like a brand new van. Riley and Jack, thank me now since this will someday be your legacy. I can just see you now hangin' with your peeps on the country streets of the Glen in your sweet ride.

Moral of the story........if you ever spill any 'liquid' in your trunk.........pull out the pad right away.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Kirby Disturbia or Deal or No Deal

Meet Kirby.......he's my new Kirby. If you haven't had the pleasure, something akin to the fruit on the tree of life, of a Kirby demonstration..........let me put out a warning: DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR TO THE WOLF ON THE OTHER SIDE. MAY CAUSE MARITAL DISCORD.

So here's a bit of free marital counseling and some knowledge to tuck into your gray matter until you need it.
My new best friend Fabio (his real name was very similar!!!) knocks on my door in the middle of the freezing winter day. Thinking it was the neighbor, Mads rushes the door (in a cheerleader outfit) and we throw it open. Side note on how I look: College hoodie, pony, no makeup, no shoes, jeans (expensive ones), baby attached to my torso.........baby's hair looks like the origingal Charlie from Charlie and he Chocolate Factory.

Fabe shoves a spray bottle of cleaner at me and begs me to let him in so he can earn $50 by giving me a demo, whether I buy or not. Then he dashes from the house to get 'The Kirby'. He comes back with his supervisor........ Before I know what is happening the super ditches Fabe out here in the country and takes off, leaving the boy and the vacuum.
I am treated to the luxury of watching Fabe vacuum my brand new carpet with a dust meter and black and white filters. He sucks up a lot of contractor dirt!! Not really surprised.
He pours baking soda into the BRAND NEW carpet and nearly makes himself vomit from the dust (kind of funny, kind of gross). Then he rubs it in so you can't see the white mound that he just poured out (ouch). I vacuum with my $100 Hoover (not the badger kind). Of course I know that I didn't get it all even though it looks like it. The 20 black filters show that sure enough, there was still baking soda in the carpet.
Next Fabe and I travel to 'the sanctuary'. He tells me that my mattress has doubled in weight from skin cells, dust mites and dust mite poop. I cringe. Fabe vacuums. Sure enough, the old dust meeter shows oodles of dead skin and what I can only assume is dust mite and their spoor. He asks if I don't sleep well unless I change my sheets. I say, even if I lived in a lavender field, I still wouldn't get a full nights sleep. Fabe says that's because I can't breath from all of the dust mites. I know it is because I sleep with an infant.
As we vacuum, we commiserate. Fabe can't believe I have been married for 13 years I am the mama of four young uns. He uses flattery..........Satan's flattery. I know I am being duped but I let him tell me I have a great body for a mommy and that I only look 25. I ask him how much Kirby school it took to teach him what to say to suspicious housewives. He says none.
Fabe thinks he's got me hooked. He calls his supervisor to tell him to come back and strike a deal with me. While we wait, he shows me the carpet cleaner, which also turns into a blower, a dog groomer, a paint sprayer, an Electrolux range, a life preserver, a can opener, a floor sander, a snow plow, a pack mule, a hang glider, and a pocket fisherman.
Supervisor shows up and this is were Fabe puts on a slinky dress. Time for Deal or No Deal. I choose from a variety of money cases............oooh I hope I chose the lowest!! Super hands me the cost break down. I nearly excrete yesterday's breakfast in my cute jeans and shout it at the same time. I say there isn't a chance on earth I'll pay close to $3,000 for a vacuum, I'm saving for two perky boobs.
Super says he'll cut me the wife alone deal and give me the carpet/upholstery cleaner for free. For those of you counting that's about $300 bucks. I say..........negative. He says he'll give me a child discount because he can see that I take my job seriously and kids obviously make messes faster than even Superman can clean them up. That's $100 per child. He thinks I only have 2. I ask him the most children he has ever given a discount for. He refuses to answer. I press. He brings up the fact that I belong to a religion that values children. I say that has nothing to do with the number of kids I have............but I do have more than 2. He thinks I am lying for the discount. I say, if I were going to lie, I'd have more than 4 kids, I'd have 13. He still thinks I am lying.
He calls the mysterious man on the phone. The Man says if I pay cash I can have a 5% discount. That's less than $200. I try to tell him my brother-in-law would have sold me one for $1200. He laughs. We go back to Deal or No Deal. Since Fabe and the Super and I all care for each other............3 hours of bonding does that to people, I want Fabe to get his commission but I don't want to pay for the vacuum. I say how about $1800 even, free supplies for a year, free carpet cleaner, and Super covers the tax, plus the 5% pay cash discount. Super looks pained (I think it's a put on). Fabe glitters in his slinky dress. Super puts in a call to The Man, he turns it on speaker phone accidentally (right). The Man doesn't want to cut the deal but Super pushes because I am a wicked bargainer (wink, wink). Super asks Fabe if he is willing to take a commission cut just for me. Fabe bristles and glitters. I think about his 3 year old and the failing economy in Oregon. I want Fabe to get his cash. If he makes the sale fast enough he gets a $50 bonus. We agree. We shake. I tell them not to trust my handshake because I am no gentleman. They laugh. I mean it. I sign my Yankees check and grudgingly hand it over.
Super takes off with the check and leaves Fabe stranded again. Fabe has to familiarize me with my new purchase.
Now that the glittery dress is off and he is back to his missionary look and argyle socks, we can sit on the floor and get to know Kirby. I learn how to do all of the attachments and make sure the belt is secure. I get quizzed. I do well. I invite Fabe to my next girl's night. He accepts. I invite him to live with me. He accepts. Super still hasn't come back for his sales boy.
Super comes back and assures me I got the deal of the day. I take a blood oath not to tell anyone the price I paid for the vacuum. I ask if that is so I won't find out how badly I was taken for. Super laughs.........of course not. I got a great deal, he just can't do that for everybody.
The day has passed without my knowing. I accidentally leave the kids at school. I call Jodi to see if she can save the kids from passing bandits and bring them to me. She does. Having been held captive for the better part of the day I now have the psychological syndrome where I side with my captors. I try to sell a Kirby to Jodi so I'm not the only one that makes an eighteen hundred dollar mistake that day. Jodi knows better. She says no, but she is glad to hear Fabe is coming to the purse party I'm planning.
Later that evening..................Jason sees clues to my Kirby affair; the left over filters Max stole, the Kirby owners manual, the free Kirby citrus cleaner. "What's all the Kirby stuff for? You didn't buy a Kirby did you?" My guilt spills forth in a hysterical laugh. Jason can't tell if the thought is so ridiculous that I laughed or if the laugh is the chuckle of guilt. The kids rat me out and tell him how much I spent. He becomes very quiet. He stops moving. This is how I can tell he is unhappy. He chats to me like a girlfriend and moves constantly on normal days. But not the day I bought the Kirby. At bed time he shuts the door to our room. He has no romantic interest in me, he wants to discuss Kirby alone. Soon I find out how much it costs me per minute to vacuum, how many bullets he must dodge to pay for Kirby, how many vacuums I could buy instead, the hours he could have been spending at home instead of at job #6, the next vacation to Disneyland just magically turned into a Kirby. I cry with shame. He is so right.
Soon all of the cancellation paperwork is filled out in quadruplicate and my name is signed on all of it. Jason is calling Michigan police to see if these people even have a business license. He comes up with a plan to pull them over and give Kirby back.
Soon Super has returned to our house. No Fabe. It's down and dirty now. Super tells Jason he knows that because of his 6 jobs, he may not want to spend that kind of time and money on Kirby so he will cut him a better deal..............even though I am a great bargainer. We play good cop/bad cop. I am the bad cop, the really bad cop. Super looks pained. He says he doesn't want to cause a divorce. He gets The Man on the phone again and explains that we want to return the vacuum. The Man is not happy, he offers a better deal. I say no. I am not happy about being swindled in the first place. Jason concedes that Kirby is a good vacuum and the new style has a hot shade of orange he knows I will appreciate. I still say no. The Yankee checks come out again. I refuse to sign one. Super gives us a deal but explains that Fabe is SOL and so is he. He can't even take his wife to dinner now. (If he even has one). Jason signs the check. Kirby stays. Super gets in his SUV with my old Hoover and scuttles off to swindle another day.


Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Pickle People

Pickle People..............I hate to tell you I don't know what they are. Madison does. Mads has never been afraid of anything in her life that I can even think of ***** until now. She came to me yesterday and she was shaking in fear. She said she was afraid of pickle people. She refused to go into her room alone and made me turn lights on even though the house was lit by sunshine. I hoped she would forget about the pickle people, but she didn't. I had a hard time not laughing even though she was clearly terrified. (I had such a hard time, that I actually did laugh uncontrollably. What a horrible mother.)
Bedtime came around and I for one had let the Pickle People slip my mind. She went to bed like she was supposed to but soon tore out of her room crying so hard it was unintelligible. Then I remembered.......The Pickle People. Daddy took her back to bed, along with his taser. He shot the taser all over the bedroom, under the bed, in the closet, even in her dresser drawers (apparently the Pickle People are about the size of squash and are easily concealed). All was going well, until Riley growled from her bed.........trying to be funny (evil little beast) and scared the willickers out of Mads. I guess tasers are nothing compared to the power of pickle. Needless to say I had a bed mate.
Madison tells me that she learned of Pickle People from a book........so much for the power of literacy. They sleep in the basement and when they wake up they say 'Boo' to scare you. I guess that could be scarey. She just saw the picture with this blog entry and confirmed that it does fit the profile of a Pickle Person. She said I should save it to show her dad so he knows what he is trying to taser next time.