Pay Per Post/ HP --what a hoot!

Click on the box to go watch this video!

So there is a site, PayPerPost, that will drop a little cash into your PayPal account if you blog about selected topics. REALLY? Because you have probably noticed by now, that I'll talk about just about anything.

Then I got to thinking. It went a little something like this:

No you won't, you big chicken, If they want you to write about hemorrhoid cream, you are going to starve before you type out anything of the kind. You're no Kevin Charnas, able to tackle any topic without fear, and, dare I say, with Gusto.

But then I went to the site, and the video is a hoot! I want the Postie Patrol to come for ME! We could have a three way competition for fabulous prizes, me, Kim, and Bananas! If they show up at my work, I guarantee, it will be ON, and it would be on for prizes far less spectacular than the ones Robyn competed for in the video!

I don't know that I will be able to support my family based upon my future PayPerPost earnings. We'll have to see what kinds of things they have. But If Little O gets a book from Amazon, or Big O gets a hoodie sweatshirt to replace the forty-ninth one lost this year (what is it with that boy and outerwear?), how very cool!

I think this is just a riot. Where are the jobs that let you go out and get people into scavenger hunts? I don't know if I want to work for HP, or PayPerPost, or some demonically clever marketing firm, but this is the kind of thing I adore. I excel at goofball enthusiasm. "CATFEEEESH!" is going to be incorporated into life at work, I guarantee you!

HP wants me to make clear that this post is brought to you by HP.
Digital Photo Printing
They also wanted me to include their link to all of their toys.

Is it so very wrong to adore this idea? Is it just further proof that I love cheesy marketing? You, my four loyal readers, will have to tell me if I am outta my gourd.

So Now Iraq does it better that we do?

How long has Polly Klaas been gone? Laci Peterson? Why are those bastards still alive, and on OUR dime, but Iraq can take care of Saddam within 30 days? Hell, they didn't even need the full thirty! If we cleared out death row in California once a year, how much money could we spend on education? Could we make crazy Sherriff Joe in Arizona the head of prisons nationwide?
I will grant you that DNA testing should never be denied a prisoner on death row. But twenty years of appeals is ridiculous.
I do not doubt that Stanley "Tookie" Williams was a better man when he died than when he was sentenced. Age usually makes you a little wiser. But the men he killed were denied the chance to age and wise up, and he was sentenced to death. I found it wierd that because he had a publisher and famous friends, people suddenly thought his sentence should have been commuted. He did a lot of good in his later years. But he did a lot more bad in his early years.
I dunno. I would certainly never claim that there is ANY easy answer in death penalty cases. But it seems like the courts of Iraq took care of business a lot beter than we do. (Yes, I know, he was a dictator that killed millions, and maybe that sped things up, but still. Richard Allen Davis snatched Polly out of her own bedroom. Why is he still here?)

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This concludes the conservative rant from the side of Jen that screws up all of those "Are you a Tree-Hugging Liberal?" quizzes.

I think I need out of customer service.

I just had a man call and he got everything that I told him wrong.
His mother was hysterical when she got on the phone thinking we weren't going to service them until next week. I said, no, that's not at all what I said.
Well, my son is mental and doesn't understand things.

And I know better--but...

I said, Then why would you have him call?

We finished the phone call, I got her straightened out about her service, and I got a ten minute lecture about how hurtful it was of me to have said that. Knowing that I was in the wrong, I refrained from asking her if it wasn't HURTFUL to put her son in a position that he is unable to handle, and then tell everyone that he is "mental"???????????????

She is evil and ignorant, and now I feel evil and ignorant.

It's a ten minute testing frenzy!!!!!

I think some of these are a little off...but I was sweatin' thinkin I was gonna be Elizabeth Taylor (Not that there's anything wrong with that)!

What Classic Bombshell Are You?
Audrey Hepburn

You are Audrey Hepburn! You are the epitome of class. You are elegant and regal. You love to express yourself in many ways, including dance. You also love helping people.

Take this test

My girl Jen sent me a BOX full of good homemade Christmas treats, but since they all have nuts, I have to eat them up before the Honey gets home. Shush, Jennifer. There were NO caramels. Do you hear me? They didn't make it in the box. (note to self--get rid of the caramel wrappers)

We now resume our Quizzing freefall:

You Date Like a Woman

According to studies on dating, you date like a woman. You tend to take romance seriously, and you're not really out for a fling. A mental and emotional connection always comes first for you. And rushing the physical stuff is likely to turn you off. You're highly selective when it comes to dating, and some may say you're too picky. You know what you want, and when you find it, you're ready to commit.

Do You Date Like a Man or a Woman?

This one was so off base, I may have to give up blogthings all together. Is all of this based upon sense of humor vs. a great ass? Not at all correct.

You Are Pretty Logical

You're a bit of a wizard when it comes to logicWhile you don't have perfect logic, you logic is pretty darn good. Keep at it - you've got a lot of natural talent in this area!

How Logical Are You?

Okay, Blogthings can stay.

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

But this Quizgalaxy stuff....Now I'm Camilla Parker Bowles?
I stole this one from CRSE at Zamphir.

	Here's What Jennfactor Will Get for Christmas!
The Honey will get you a pony.
Big O will get you socks and underwear.
Little O will get you a shiny new car.
Santa will get you five pounds of cheese.
Satan will get you Francis Bacon's Left Femur.
'What Will you Get for Christmas?' at QuizGalaxy.com

My Christmas Gift to Myself...

Let me be frank, the radio stations in my town suck donkey.

The station that we found tolerable changed formats, and while they didn't SCRAP the old tunes, they cut the number of songs down by half, and incorporated a little more of the MTV vibe than was there before. So as we listen at work, it's really the same fourteen songs, played over and over again. To add insult to injury, now we only like six out of the fourteen songs, anyway---ARGH!!!!!!

In a desperation move, we went to AM.

Woo HOO! We have the most AWESOME station, 1420 KSTN. They played James Brown and AC/DC in the same hour. Funkytown and the remake of Don Henley's Boys of summer--four freaking decades of good tunes.

We agree that not all of the songs are songs that we like, but you know what? We can live with it, knowing that we won't hear that song again for weeks--instead of twenty minutes from now. Bre and I keep exclaiming to each other--The original "wild thing" just came on. Yesterday they played three in a row from Puddle of Mudd.

We are going to write epic letters gratitude and praise that a station like this exists anywhere, let alone on the AM band. I am telling everyone I know.

The DJ's shut the hell up and play music, not a lot of commercials, it's AWESOME!!!!!!

Okay, they play the obnoxious Mancow radio show in the mornings, but that's how we know we're not dreaming!!!

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My phone line at the house is all jacked up, so e-mail posting from work is the only option right now. sigh.

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My girls, Jen and Bre, are my Christmas angels this year. I guess technically it's Jen and BooBoo, Bre's dog. But I would like to say in this very public forum how much I love and appreciate you both and your Xmas generosity. You guys made me cry in a good way.

Wednesday Hero

Sgt. Roy A. Wood
47 years old from Alva, Florida
ODA 2092, Company C, 3rd Battalion, 20th Special Forces Group (Airborne)
January 26, 2005



Sgt. Roy A. Wood, a Special Forces medical sergeant, was fatally injured when the vehicle he was riding in was involved in a traffic accident near Kabul, Afghanistan, during a return convoy from Qalat to Bagram Air Base.

His 24-year military career with the Army Reserve and Army National Guard was distinguished and unique. After receiving a commission as a second lieutenant in 1979, he was first assigned to the Army Reserve’s 421st Quartermaster Company (Light Airdrop Supply).

While assigned to the 421st, he received training as a quartermaster officer, a parachute rigger, and participated in both basic airborne and jumpmaster courses.

In January 1982, he left the 421st to begin an association with U.S. Army Special Forces that would last until, and beyond, his death.

His first SF assignment was to the Army Reserve's 11th Special Forces Group (Airborne) at Fort Meade, Md., where he served in the 3rd Battalion’s Company A as the detachment executive officer for Operational Detachment-A 1175.

In May 1983, he became Detachment Commander for ODA 1175 after returning from the Special Forces Detachment Officer Qualification Course.

In October 1984, he left ODA 1175 to become the Company Logistics Officer.

He served in a variety of positions at the 11th SFG over the next 11 years, including operations officer and support company commander.

After four years at USSOCOM, he served a year with the Army Reserve’s 73rd Field Hospital in St. Petersburg, Fla., before switching from the Reserve to the Army National Guard and renewing his association with Special Forces.

He was assigned to 3rd Bn., 20th SFG in December 2001, where he served for a year as the Battalion Surgeon, supervising medical coverage of three Special Forces companies and one support company.

In December 2002, he resigned his commission to become a Special Forces medical sergeant on Operational Detachment-A 2092, Co. C, 3rd Bn., 20th SFG.

He, with ODA 2092, was mobilized in July 2003 in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.

At the time of his death, he was pending appointment as a Special Forces warrant officer, a position in which he would have served his team as an assistant detachment commander.

During his service, he received the Army Commendation Medal, the Army Achievement Medal, the Army Reserve Achievement Medal with Silver Hourglass device, the National Defense Service Medal, the Army Service Ribbon, the Basic Parachutist badge, the Parachute Rigger badge, the Ranger tab and the Special Forces tab.

Sgt. Roy Wood leaves behind a wife and two children.

These brave men and women have given their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Have Every Right To Dream Heroic Dreams.
Those Who Say That We're In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don't Know Where To Look

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great country, you can find out how by clicking here.

Blogs Partcipating In Wednesday Hero

Right-Wing & Right Minded
Hooah Wife & Friends
Yankee Mom
Bear Creek Ledger
Mail Call! Supporting The Troops
Yeah, Right, Whatever
CrosSwords
Gazing At The Flag
Gawfer
Ohio Military Reserve
DeMediacratic Nation
My Point
A Day In The Life Of.....
Blue Star Chronicles
Prying1
Pet's Garden Blog
Pictures From My World
Freedom, GUNZ, Glory and EBYJO
Gunz Up
Say No To Politically Correct B.S.
Did You Ever Get The Feeling
A Rose By Any Other Name
My Weekly Thoughts
Rightwing Guy
Trying My Best To Support The Troops
American And Proud
Maryannaville
Not Ready For My Burqua
Perry Nelson's Website
A Fresh Start
Right On!
Echo9er
Befuddled
Potpourri
Conservative Cowboy
Petrus
Pettifog
Tanker Brothers
Chicagoray
Gop3
ArmyNGntcfamily
Soldiers' Angels New York
My Republican Blog

Sgt. Wood, a Father and a Husband, someone's Son, someone's best friend--has been dead for almost two years. How much have your children grown and changed in the last two years? How different is your life now? I say again that regardless of your politics, or your opinions on this war, anyone serving in our military deserves gratitude and boundless support. The names of the fallen should be read at every big league sporting event, every stupid awards show, and each and every day. Not in protest of the war, not in support of the war--in Remembrance. These men and women have died serving our country, and their names should be remembered. Our soldiers and their families should know that we do not forget their sacrifices.

WTF Tuesday

I'll have to come up with a new name for it, because WTF Weds and the Weds hero posts seem at odds.

It's the golden rule, people. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Don't comment mysteriously and then refuse to post your profile so others can read YOUR blog. Even better, don't use MY blog to comment when a friend has to enable the moderate feature to keep you in check.

I don't know if it's a lack of cojones, a lack of courtesy, or a lack of common sense. But Play Nice!
***************************************
My plate seems so full of holiday-ey things right now, I'm sorry bloggy friends. I have to tune into real life for a bit, but I'll be back! (And not in a schwarzenneger sort of way)

I, too, have my doubts about this, but I am a lemming.

The deal?

1) Harken back to your archives.
2) Collect the first sentence you wrote every month for the whole year.
3) Entertain us

06/06: How I've been conned into blogging when I am the world's worst typist, I'll never know...bear with me!
07/06: I am soo broke, and really want a good book right now.
08/06: You know the one... he's got his own personal foible that is so distinctive it's become his moniker?
09/06: I WANT a pretty new blog.
10/06: Carolee Wallis was my mother-in-law.
11/06: So happy halloween. yeah. whatever.
12/06: So you know that I work as a Customer Service rep for the garbage company.

Copied, as ever, from the lovely CRSE at Zamphir Panflutemaster. She had me at Zamphir.

I have soooo got to stop using the word so. Must find bad 80's hair photo for the contest going on at Great Lakes State Of Mind. So far have found some awful 80's glasses photos that were almost enough to have the Honey* sleeping on the couch, but no good hair photos.

*note to future generations: When your woman shows you awful photos from her past, don't start cappin' on her like she's one of your drinking buddies--it will not end well, motherf*cker.

I am so going to burn in a lake of fire....

A few weeks ago I called home to talk to Big O. I left a message for him. You must understand that I have inherited a cheesy fake Russian accent from my father. So I called out on the answering machine,
"O-Dog O-dogovitch, this is your mother--Answer the phone, O-dog. Odog O-Dogovitch, call your mother."
As I was listening to messages the other day, this one played and Little O turns to me with her nose wrinkled, and asks, "Mama, why did you call Big O a little bitch?"

**********************************

Last night my journey to the netherworld was sealed. Little O was at Mama Dina's while we were at the Xmas party. When we went to pick her up, she had three little dolls, two girls and a boy, and she walked me through endless love triangle combinations: Belle and Ariel fighting over Beast, Fighting over Prince Eric, See them dancing? Now the mean girl pushes the nice girl...Now they are fighting over Jesus Crust, and then they are all going to have ice cream...I tuned back in at that point.
"I'm sorry , Little O, what was the boy's name?"
"This is Jesus Crust."
"Er, and what is he doing?"
"He's dancing with Ariel, but Belle is mad because she wants to dance with him."

I was torn. Do I correct her on the pronunciation? Do I explain that he's not generally involved in love triangles?

I am so going to burn.

The Garbagettes Survived!

Okay, it wasn't that bad.

I did get up and sing, we did get up and dance.

The Uber Boss wanted a cheesy name for us, and decided on the Garbagettes--and Bill. My personal favorite was "Bill and the Solid Waste Dancers!" but UB wasn't feeling very Marilyn McCoo--Wasn't that her name? Bre brought Chanpagne, and I had already begun using my drink tickets, so I was, ahem, lubed up by showtime.

Our Christmas party is held each year on an old ferryboat that is permanently docked in the delta. The trick is that it was a working ferry back in the day, so it is divided down the middle, with long corridor for cars on either side. So all of the dinner party is held on one side of the boat, and the dancing is on the empty side. But all night long, the boat tilts to the south, the side the tables are on.

Get yourself some spiky heeled shoes, add several drinks (I tried to get them to choreograph it with a drink in my hand factored in, but they weren't going for it), and then add the subtle tug of gravity sucking you down to the left.

Actually, no one went down, but I guess they couldn't hear us over the music. Whatcha gonna do?

But the party was nice, the food was good, and the prizes were fabulous-even if I didn't win them. He had six Ipod shuffles, a new Xbox 360, two digital cameras, two DVD players, a kareoke machine, and then the items that UB puts in for fun... He had a Superman doll, and a battery operated nosehair trimmer. Oh, and did I mention the envelopes?

UB loves to torture the winners by offering them the gift, or what's in one of the envelopes. Let me give you some examples--Several years ago a girlfriend of mine traded a huge gas BBQ set-up for an envelope, and got twelve dozen Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. ouch. This year, there were no doughnuts, but he had Envelopes, and he had giftcards. We knew the giftcards were fifty bucks. Two of the envelopes contained a certificate for eighty hours pay. One of the giftcards kept getting passed up, and he started writing down the names of who passed on it. Two people passed, then someone finally took it. Yay! It was someone I know!

One hundred and twenty hours AND the standard fifty dollar gift card. I did not get picked, but at least the woman who won this one deserves it, and I hope she takes herself on a vacation with it, instead of spending it all on her grandbabies. (Are you reading this, Bananas?!?!?!)

The cash pot was not mine, either. We bought tickets for two bucks apiece, and it was up to eleven hundred and seventy. UB took a vote and drew two winners who split the pot. sigh. I had sugarplums dancing in my head, let me tell you.

Next year...

Thursday Thirteen # 21-Highs and Lows of this week.

Thirteen Highs and Lows that are part of the Rollercoaster of life!

1. HIGH: I am poor. How is that a high? I have spent all week trying to come up with a list of charities and ideas for giving back for my TT, and it's not finished, so this isn't it. But I realized once again that while I am cash-poor, I am not soul wrenching, wishing my kids could eat poor, and so I am grateful to be only poor.

2. low: My clutch went out on me at lunch, and it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. I limped my car back to work in first gear, and promptly bawled like a baby in front of customers and co-workers alike. (I LOATHE public displays)

3. HIGH: The Honey grabbed a mechanic from work, and came riding to the rescue. It turns out my car, while a stick shift, has a hydraulic clutch, which requires some witches brew of oily goop. Once Pedro (Love ya, Pedro) got some witches brew into the resivoir, it was like it never happened. Except for the hysterical sobbing and cries of anguish that my poor co-workers had to endure. (Okay, I may be overstating it a bit, but I.Never.Cry.)

4. low: Rent is still due.

5. High: The company Christmas Party is this Friday, and we always have fun. Our boss is outstanding and there are prizes to win, good food to eat...No rubber chicken here!

6. low: We are often a dysfunctional little family at work, and so I will recite CRSE's Holiday Survival Guide tips and tricks for getting through the night. I especially like the Laughing out loud waaay to long and then saying "I can't believe you actually said that out loud." and then walking away.

7. HIGH: I was nominally on the committee to help out on the par-tay, and we usually get a bonus gift--yay!

8. low: In my geeky fervor to be helpful, I suggested to the girl who usually sings a solo but wasn't too hot to do it this year, that she should get some help! Sing something funny, and get a bunch of your girls up there to do it with you!
Oh, dear Dog, I've been drafted to sing, too.

9. HIGH: They liked the altered version of R_E_S_P_E_C_T by Aretha that Bre and I came up with, so if it's cheesy, at least it'll be OUR cheese.

10: low: They have flippin' choreographed the damned thing three days before we do it, and have added such charming moves as a booty shaking, hip pumping thing and lots of jumping back and forth. Have we met? Have you met my chest? Well, you may get an intro before that little routine finishes. Bre consoles me with the thought that there's always that kid at the recital. I asked her, the one who's picking his nose on camera? she said, well, I was thinking the one who can't dance, but okay. You can just be THAT kid. If I'm not that kid, I'll be the chick that fell out of her dress at the Christmas party. I could put an eye out, people. It's my very best waking nightmare. Oh, and I can't sing.

11. HIGH: My Wednesday Hero post went up this week, and I was pleased with the way it turned out.

12. low: Berta, a girl who used to work with us, went home at lunch and the apartment next door to her house had burned down. The single mom and her 5 year old daughter were standing outside in shock with nothing but their pajamas. Berta sent out an email asking for clothes.

13: HIGH: The mom wears my size! So I have a whole box of things I can get to her tomorrow. These have been some emotionally draining luch hours!


Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Wednesday Hero

SFC. Paul Ray Smith33 years old from Tampa, FloridaBravo Company, 11th Engineer Battalion, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry DivisionApril 4, 2003When you think of the word Hero, SFC. Paul Smith is the person you think about.On April 4, 2003, Smith was setting up a temporary enemy prisoner of war holding area during the seizure of Saddam International Airport when his unit came under attack.Smith kept his soldiers focused during the fight while engaging the Iraqi force of around 100 men with his M16, a hand grenade and an AT4 anti-armor weapon.Smith tossed a grenade over a wall then he climbed atop the armored vehicle. Disregarding personal danger, he sprayed the attacking troops with .50-caliber machine gun fire. According to the Army, he told a soldier who accompanied him to "feed me ammunition whenever you hear the gun get quiet." He fired more than 300 rounds at the enemy before being mortally wounded himself.For his action on that day, SFC. Smith was posthumously awarded the Medal Of Honor by President Bush,becoming only the 3,459 serviceman to be awarded the honor since the Civil War.His "conspicuous gallantry, above and beyond the call of duty," according to his citation, protected the soldiers in his platoon as well as other troops at an aid station nearby.

These brave men and women have given their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.

We Have Every Right To Dream Heroic Dreams. Those Who Say That We're In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don't Know Where To Look.

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll.

If you would like to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great country, you can find out how by clicking here.

Blogs Partcipating In Wednesday Hero

Yankee Mom
Bear Creek Ledger
Mail Call! Supporting The Troops
Yeah, Right, Whatever
CrosSwords
Gazing At The Flag
Gawfer
Ohio Military Reserve
DeMediacratic Nation
My Point
A Day In The Life Of.....
Blue Star Chronicles
Prying1
Pet's Garden Blog
Pictures From My World
Freedom, GUNZ, Glory and EBYJO
Gunz Up
Screw Liberals
Did You Ever Get The Feeling
A Rose By Any Other Name
My Weekly Thoughts
Rightwing Guy
Trying My Best To Support The Troops
American And Proud
Maryannaville
Hooah Wife & Friends
Right-Wing & Right Minded

A little side note, a lot of the blogs in this blogroll are as anti-liberal as they come, and I am about as liberal as you can get without a rainbow flag and a cannibus card. But how astounding and sad that this man died in 2003. Three and a half years ago.

I may not agree with the politics of each person on this blogroll, but I heartily agree that each and every person serving in a branch of our (completely voluntary!) military services is a hero. Why aren't these names read at the end of every major league professional sporting event, every newscast, and every award show? Every time.

This really is very true.

Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?

Grover on Ecstasy
You're funny, you're loveable, you're entertaining, you like to call yourself "Super Grover!"--You're obviously on ecstasy. But that's why we love you. Be careful, ok?
Take this quiz!








Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

I am so Grover. I stole this from CRSE over at Zamphir.

Am I just evil and jaded?

So you know that I work as a Customer Service rep for the garbage company. I answer phones with the girls, but I also am one of two people who talk to customers when they come into the office. Thankfully, my job does not force me to be the ugly collections agent, demanding to know when you will live up to your obligations. I am here to take whatever payment you can make, and make sure that your service is to your satsfaction.

Over the last few months I have talked to a woman who has not paid her bill in easily ten months. So the last time her bill was due, four months ago, she called to explain that there was a baby in the family that had died, and that she had been the one to care for the infant, so life was a little chaotic. I was sympathetic and told her I'd make a note on her account, and to pay when she could. Not a big deal, but a sad story, and it made me grateful for my healthy children. I noted her account and went on to the next customer.

She actually came in this week, and again told the story, this time with big discliamers that it wasn't HER baby, but that she HAD been the one to care for it. Now I feel like she is trading on this unimaginable tragedy. She peddles this story like it's a get out of payment free card. I've never been through anything as devastating as that would have to be, and I tend to be a private person, but who does that? Am I being a coldhearted bitch? Is it therapeutic to talk about it to strangers? Maybe strangers are the only ones who can stand to hear about it? But it didn't feel like that the SECOND time. It felt like the worst kind of manipulation. Especially after the disclaimer--Oh, not MY baby, but I took care of it.

I felt soiled after talking to her.

Then I felt like a bitch for thinking it.

Thursday Thirteen #20-Fantasy Gifts

If someone could see to it that any one of these things is under the tree this year, I'd be terribly grateful. These are my 13 fantasy gifts for this year. I had a clever graphic for y'all, but My techno-chaos made it go haywire, much like my wierd technorati placement...sigh. Here ya go, anyway.

1. Consuelo, Our new housewife. Consuelo is just happy to be here, and loves cleaning and laundry. She only cooks traditional Mexican fare, so the honey loves her, and she does all the dishes, so I love her. She speaks Spanish so Little O can learn, and she adores Mama Dina, and has lots of juicy hometown gossip for her. Did I mention she’s magic and if I prick her with a pin, she pops like a soap bubble and re-appears when I wave the toilet brush? Or she might be like a Roomba, and just emerge when we’re not home and get it all done…hmmm, I’ll have to give this more thought before I talk to Santa.
2. A real bedroom set, involving either a lovely sleigh bed OR an ultra modern platform—super clean lines.
3. A week at a beach house with MY family, not his. I love his, but I want a week with MY family. I see his all the time.
4. The gods of employment present a job that actually makes money for my Ex, so I could ask for child support (at this point I’m afraid to file because I think I make more), and co-incidentally, the Honey is given a high paying job sampling beer.
5. POOF! My car is paid off!
6. If he can’t be given a job drinking beer, maybe he could just stop for a while…
7. My son is transformed into a straight A student, practicing his trombone without being forced, cleaning his room so Consuelo doesn’t have to.
8. Diamond Earrings the size of hailstones. Not even golf-ball sized hailstones, just something visible from space. (I am being scolded by my cubicle-mate for being practical AND wanting magic tricks instead of THINGS).
9. A ten thousand dollar gift card for Cost Plus, or, actually, Target. I could do some serious damage. Pier 1 would be nice, but not nice like Cost Plus.
10. A laptop with wireless internet that goes the speed of LIGHT. Next year I am not blogging in November, I am going to PARTICIPATE in NaNoWriMo. I’m dragging my father and my brother with me. You, too, Kat!
11. If #6 is out, maybe a half naked cabana boy with washboard abs and, tragically, an inability to speak. He still HAS a tongue, let me be clear, but no speech. He can, however, laugh at my witty asides, and appreciates my inability to clean. I’ll even share him with Consuelo if I never have to scrub anything, and never HEAR about it.
12. Hawaii. Cabo. Dublin. Fiji. Barcelona. Any of these would be acceptable.
13. A 4-bedroom house—we need an office for the computer and the Honey’s out of control sports crap, er, memorabilia. The computer currently lives in the middle of the dining room, and Little O sleeps in our room. When she outgrows that toddler bed we are so screwed…

Here's alittle Linky Love if you're feeling like you could be my Santa...


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I got tagged!! I got tagged!!

6 weird Things about me!!

The Mind tagged me and I'm doing it at work, so no link-love for her, but she's over on my sidebar, and is running a bad 80's hair contest, so go take a look at GREAT LAKES STATE OF MIND!

1. I am completely creeped out by t.v. sign offs. They don't happen much anymore, thanks to the wonders of the infomercial, but I'm never wierded out about being alone at night. Unless I happen to see them play the national anthem and then do the color bars with the horrible endless beeeeeeeeeep that is the soundtrack I envision for a psycho killer's brain.
2. I just cope with things. I stayed married to my (now) ex in spite of our loveless marriage, and was, in fact, still living with him throughout my pregnancy with Little O. It was cheaper for us both, kept us both in full contact with Big O, and we were so done at that point that we were just roommates. We totally got along. I don't enjoy the drama, or sharing the drama of a life falling to pieces, and several friends had no idea that the baby was not the ex's. Awkward, to say the least, and probably a large part of why the Honey hates the ex.
3. I MUST have a washcloth in the shower. I have to wash my face at least three times with a washcloth in the shower, or I am not clean. The cheaper and rougher the washcloth, the better. I LOVE those uber-packs of multicolored washcloths they sell at dorm time at Target.
4. I hate using strange showers. Other people's showers creep me out, and if I can get home to my own shower the next day, I'll wait. Seriously*the ultimate bad day is having to use someone else's shower, and then they don't give you a washcloth, or it's super soft*ugh.
5. I am pathologically shy until I get to work. Nobody at work understands that I am borderline crazy cat lady*with no cats. I have, literally, no social skills in a party type situation. I am able to be outgoing at work only because it is required of me and I understand the boundaries. I am at a total loss in social scenarios. It baffles the Honey, who met me when I was drunk. He is outgoing as his baseline personality. I am reserved to the point of scowling librarian at parties, which isn't really at all my personality, but I. AM. Socially. Retarded.
6. I am romantic, but not super sentimental. I am really a man with big knockers and a va-jay-jay. I am rarely moved by furry animal photos (but kids still get me every time), and I just don't enjoy stuffed animals and hearts and flowers. Let me rephrase that, I ADORE flowers, but a part of me is wincing that you spent that much on something that is going to turn brown in such a short time. I would love if the Honey got me flowers that were not from the mini mart, and not for a significant occasion, just because. Romance, I am all for, just not sappy syrupy sentiment.

I tag KIM, ANN, CRSE, PIPPA, JENNY in CA, and SAYRE. Okay, I think technically CRSE and Sayre have already done this, but I'm trying to tag people who might actually read this. I will leave them notes when I get home and can blog freely, not this weird email blogging (which is why everything is spaced so oddly).

Do you feel like you know me better?

ack.

My Uber boss, who isn't hard on the eyes, is growing a goatee.

Hmm. The problem is that I adore men in goatees.

I don't want to be one of the legion of office girls crushin' on the
boss.

There are worse things in life, I suppose.

But I blush. Easily.

sigh. whatever.

Happy Tuesday.

*******

With the bald head and the goat, he may look a little like Satan. At least I'm hoping...I'll just picture him red with horns, and I'll be laughing instead of blushing.

Ahhhh....

You know that lovely boneless feeling you get after good sex?

Or the post Thanksgiving dinner feeling when you have to look at that
last little bit of pie and you have to turn it down because you cannot
imagine eating one more thing?

My brain is like that today.

My man went to work on Saturday and Sunday, and I had a whole weekend
with no obligations (eww, except the faux purse party, which I forgot
all about once they told me the bags went for $100. FOR FAKES!?!?!).
Did I mention the brown paper bag full of books that my mom gave me on
the 4th?

Oh yeah... I read six books this weekend, not a redeeming quality
amongst them. Unless you count Number ten in the Janet Evanovich
series.

I drove little O nuts with that one.

"Are there funny words again, mama?"

"AGAIN, mama?"

When I grow up, I wanna be Stephanie Plum, with a Ranger and a Morelli,
and a Grandma Mazur. I'm torn on a Lula.

Bliss.

Mother Of the Year...

She's on to me!

Last night. we closed the cover on the last bedtime story:

"The End."

Little O cocked an eyebrow worthy of the Rock, calmly took the book
from my hands, flipped through until she found the two pages that I had
skipped, and handed it back to me.

sigh.

Busted by my 4-year old.

Gobble Gobble Gobble.

It was a Red shirt day...or was it?

This is my favorite joke, as told by my friend Galen at our morning meetings at Barnes and Noble, oh so many years ago.

There once was a pirate ship that sailed the seven seas, and they were unstoppable. The captain would call for his spyglass when a mast was spotted on the horizon, and if it was a fat merchant ship, he would cry out "Bring me my Red Shirt!" and his crew would cheer.

The Crew knew that the red shirt meant they were going raiding. As time wore on, the crew speculated about the magical properties of this red shirt. If the captain wore his red shirt, they were guaranteed to win! His first mate finally asked the captain about his shirt. The captain laughed and explained that there was nothing magical about his shirts. But the blood never showed on a red shirt, so the crew never saw if he was hurt, and so they never faltered. The captain asked him to keep it to himself, and the first mate agreed.

One day there was a mast spotted on the horizon. The captain called for his spyglass, and as he looked through it, he saw another mast, then another, and another. The Spanish Armada had found them. He put his spyglass away, turned to his crew, and shouted, "Bring me my Brown Pants!"

Okay, Galen told it with much more flair, but you get it. Today was a brown pants day at work. Fully one half of our customers had bills due today, we were down two girls on the phones, and there is nothing better than a customer who complains about how long they were on hold, then has nothing ready when they finally get you. ARGH!!!!!

Teenism

I found This story over at Suburban Turmoil. This has been a memory filled week!

One of my favorite stories about my mom involves teenism. The bad boyfriend came to dinner with Kat and I, and we were meeting my parents. The Waitress was VILE to us, as we had only ordered coffee until my folks got there. I mean literally THREW the creamers at us when she finally brought them, and stomped off.

Imagine our surprise when my parents got there, and she became bubbly and charming. It was a very Jekyll and Hyde moment. We told my folks about the transformation, and my mother mulled that over all through dinner. (Can I just say that The Italian Cottage in Redding was a staple of my childhood and I was deeply saddened to hear that they had closed. Man that Chicken Casserole was unbelievable, and nobody has sawdust on the floors anymore!)

When Dinner was over, this was the tip that my mother left:

(on the back of the check)

We hope that when Paula gets back to her kennel, her mother growls and snaps at her.

My mom is so quiet, especially next to my schmoozy outgoing father. I love her and her sneaky ways. She rocks with a subtlety that people sometimes miss completely.

Chuck Norris

I was watching the news, and they had a story about the cult of Chuck Norris fans. College students devote themselves to coming up with This Stuff. Conan O'brien played Walker clips endlessly. I was just trying to explain it to the Honey last night, and today Stumble gave me Chuck on a silver platter.

In my blog stalker kind of way, I think that you could probably substitute IAI for Chuck Norris in any of those sentences.

I am such a sucker for these.

Your Vocabulary Score: A

Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary! You must be quite an erudite person.

How's Your Vocabulary?

I went back to community college a few years ago, and was scolded by my classmates and the writing lab people for using words that were too big. The fourteen year old at the writing lab told me my writing was much too "wordy" and I had better tone it down if I wanted a good grade.

Our country is SOOOO going down in flames.

Wait! Wait! Let me re-phrase that.

Stupid people BURN! BUUUUURN!

We are doomed.

I am sure that the fourteen year old Brittany wannabe now has her college degree and makes twice what I do. Or she could be cooking up meth in a trailer in Ripon. I'm just sayin'.

As Promised - The Sausage Post

I had read the books.

I knew how it was supposed to be.

I knew girls with dreams of perfect soul mates and their one true love. But if I wasn't born a steely eyed realist, I was certainly raised to be analytical and practical. I had done my research on the subject. I think in middle school I already knew it wouldn't be about love. There were girls at my school in Junior high having sex. I knew that that was much too young. But I decided that I would be rid of my questionable burden before I graduated high school. I thought that sixteen was an appropriate age.

Being socially retarded but a precocious reader, I knew it could play out one of two ways. I could meet the love of my life and have a romantic, perfect event with candlelight, a moment of discomfort, and we live happily ever after in our European castle with servants who would discreetly dispose of the telltale sheets. Or I could surrender in the fogged up backseat of a chevelle, and he'd never call again, but tell everyone about how easy I was.

By the time high school rolled around, my social life was in a realm I had not pictured in Junior High. While I was still socially retarded and shy and quiet, I had friends who were outgoing and social. I was the wallflower that my girl Kat invited along in spite of my social skills. Kat went to the other high school in town, and had friends who had no idea who I was. I think I managed to stutter out enough funny stuff that they tolerated me for Kat's sake. Or they may have just tolerated me for Kat's sake. I was that bad, and she was that cool.

One of the amazing things that I had not envisioned in junior high was the availability of alcohol, and it's properties as a social lubricant. Parties with alcohol were SOOOO much more fun for me than parties without! It was truly a miracle elixir for a shy girl. There were the inevitable groping sessions, and opportunities presented themselves, but I wasn't ready, and if I didn't think I was in love, then it was going to be when I was totally comfortable. (Remember the analytical thing? This really was my thought process.)

My break came when Kat's cousins came in from Southern California. Two boys, older than us, game for a party, and they would return to the depths of So Cal when I was done. There really wasn't a choice to be made. The younger one (17) was crazy and outgoing and loud--everything I avoided like the plague. Her oldest cousin, though, was funny, quiet, and nice. hmmmm.

He was, in fact, so much older(21) and nicer that when I finally threw myself at him, thanks to a little liquid courage, he declined. But he told me that if I'd like to make the offer sober, he'd love to take me up on it. A-HA! I'd picked a good one, AND an honorable one--that wasn't even something I had considered!

He was so nice. He was so quiet. As things progressed the next night, it occurred to me that there may have been a slight flaw in my plan. I thought that 21 meant he'd be a pro.

I think I may have known a bit more than he did. If he was more experienced, it was definitely more, um, hands on, if you will. So now I'm sober and thinking, and analyzing everything, and the thought occurs to me that THIS was what people meant by "get stuffed." I wish I hadn't, but there it was. That was my overwhelming impression of the deed. Then I had to concentrate on not laughing, because I'd read enough to know that me bursting out laughing while he did his best work was gonna scar the poor boy for life.

And three minute (maybe?) later it was done.

The cousins went back to So Cal, we exchanged a few letters, and I went back to my social hermitage until I got a job at Taco Bell and met the bad boyfriend.

My dad still throws up in his mouth a little if you mention the bad boyfriend's name.

But that would be another post, wouldn't it?

Thursday Thirteen # 19: Movie Moments

Thirteen Movie Moments Jen enjoys.



1. Auntie Mame- When she invites the horrible suburbanites over for drinks and has the crazy modern art sofas...and the flaming cocktails.

2. Four Weddings and a Funeral- The funeral is awful, but gets me every time when he reads the poem. It makes me want to like poetry.

3. Young Frankenstein- Almost any line from Marty Feldman in the first third of the movie. I can still probably recite them all.

4. Holy Grail- If I have to pick one spot I'll short circut, here, but the coconut shells and the whole Sir Robin bit. IF I have to choose.

5. Dude, Where's my Car?- I'm sorry. I know. It's awful. But the bit where they read the tattoos is just so totally a conversation you could overhear in California. It cracks me up. It's the left coast version of Who's on First.

6. Toy Story- When Woody leads the toys in the uprising against Syd.

7. Christmas Story- The tongue. The pole. bwahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

8. Sideways- Sandra Oh beans him with the helmet. None of this boo hoo my heart is broken--she is pissed.

9. Brigit Jones- Sliding down the pole into/onto the camera. That would SO happen to me.

10. Chocolat- The gypsy music was soooo catchy, but when I bought the soundtrack , there was only one song. I wanted to go live with those gypsies. Okay, THAT gypsy, but still.

11. Cool Hand Luke- After the egg contest, when they are thumping on Paul Newman's belly.

12. Flushed Away- If you haven't seen it, I am torn--not sure it's worth the price of admission to everyone, but the slugs are sooo worth it to ME!!!!

13. Pretty much any moment where the good guys win, regardless of how cheesy and obvious it was. I'm a sucker like that.




Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

Linky Love.






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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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This is my favorite E-mail in a year!

I got this from My best Jen, in Coarsegold, CA:

Here is the Washington Post's Mensa Invitational
which once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary,
alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a
new definition.

2005 winners are:

1. Cashtration (n. ): The act of buying a house, which renders
the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts
until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a
hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n. ): The substance surrounding stupid people that
stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately,

shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the
purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of
sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running
late.

10. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

11. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.
)

12. Karmageddon: It's when everybody is sending off all these
really bad vibes, and then the Earth explodes and it's a serious
bummer.

13. Decafalon (n. ): The grueling event of getting through the
day consuming only things that are good for you

14. Glibido: All talk and no action.

15. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter
when they come at you rapidly.

16. Arachnoleptic fit (n. ): The frantic dance performed just
after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

17. Beelzebug (n. ): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets
into your bedroom at three in the mo rning and cannot be cast out.

18. Caterpallor (n. ): The color you turn after finding half a
worm in the fruit you're eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its
yearly contest,
in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common
words.

And the winners are:

1. coffee, n. the person upon whom one coughs.

2. flabbergasted, adj. appalled by discovering how much weight
one has gained.

3. abdicate, v. to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. esplanade, v. to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. willy-nilly, adj. impotent.

6. negligent, adj. absentmindedly answering the door when
wearing only a nightgown.

7. lymph, v. to walk with a lisp.

8. gargoyle, n. olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. flatulence, n. emergency vehicle that picks up someone who
has been run over by a steamroller.

10. balderdash, n. a rapidly receding hairline.

11. testicle, n. a humorous question on an exam.

12. rectitude, n. the formal, dignified bearing adopted by
proctologists.

13. pokemon, n. a Rastafarian proctologi st.

14. oyster, n. a person who sprinkles his conversation with
Yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. the belief that, after death,

the soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. circumvent, n. an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by
Jewish men

LMAO, I hope it emails to blogger okay.
Much more upbeat than a WTF Wednesday!

Tasty Tuesday

I am dreaming of a Denny's Super Bird Turkey Sandwich.
With onion rings.
I am so Homer Simpson right now.
mmmmm....Super Bird.

I'm not sure that this is entirely accurate...

I am 12% Idiot.

I am not annoying at all. In fact most people come to me for advice. Of course they annoy the hell out of me. But what can I do? I am smarter than most people.

Take the
Idiot Test
@ FualiDotCom

I have cheerfully stolen this from Dick Small. He'll never know.

I think people come to me to vent, not really for advice. But I do find most people to be idiots, so they must be on to something.

Nov 12, 1970

Happy Birthday

to Us.

I am 36.

So is The Slack. We share the day. It's a Jen thing.


I'd make her a cool ad, but I'm lucky if I get a post up with no typos. So the link will have to do. Y'all should go see her. I hear there will be pancakes.

How important is Music in your Life?

I find that it is HUGE in mine.
Much like books. Too long without the escape of a book, and I am bitchier and have a much shorter fuse. It sneaks up on me.
A lack of music makes me blue. I think. It could just be life at the moment, which has certainly been leaving huge steaming piles in every possible direction, but I think I would mind it less if I had music again at work.

I think I've said before that I sing snippets of anything. I am the rainman of jingles and annoying choruses. Well, in my little corner of the trash heap, my radio has died. I have a companion in my corner, and Bre does what she can to keep me sane, but by Friday of last week, I was snapping at HER for singing "It's a grand Old Flag."
ME, snapping at HER, for singing an annoying song.

Truly, if you know me, it boggles the mind.

On a funny note, The supreme power in the office, who orders all of the birthday cakes (along with everything else) had them put the words "Doo-Dah" on my Birthday cake. (Think Camptown Races)

That was outstanding.

My daughter announced in the middle of Target that when she grows up, she would like to be a cheeto. Big O says "Cheetah, like a cheetah girl?" No, she wants to be orange and crunchy (her words). A Cheeto.

I must find a radio for myself (and poor Bre). My girl, I'm stuck for. We are currently having talks about setting our sights a bit higher. She looked longingly at the packaged bacon on Thursday and and asked if she could have it for christmas. The junk cereal, too. Okay, she talks a mile a minute, and pretty much asked for everything that caught her eye at the store, but bacon for christmas? She doesn't even like bacon. On the bright side, I don't think Cheetos require a college fund.

Of course I am!

You are "Excited"

What Japanese Smiley Are You?

Thursday Thirteen #18 13 Circles of Heck.

Thirteen things JEN could have done without this week:

1. Phone message left on my voice mail at work: "this message is for Jennifer, this is blah blah, there was an incident on your son's walk home after school, blah blah blah, the paramedics are here...blah blah blah"

2. Call the school, and it turns out Big O was was bullied by two classmates, and when they began kicking his backpack (the kind on wheels), he threw a book at the bigger one. (This all began with them teasing him for reading a book as he walked home)

3. What should a big boy do, when a book is thrown at him, but knock the other boy to the ground and start kicking him in the face? I mean, really, what other choice did he have?

4. grrrrrrrr. So I come flying up to the school expecting the worst, I mean how can you not? Big O is in the Principal's office, and he has a giant goose egg on his forehead, and this huge dark line across his nose, and his eye looks like he might have a shiner. But you know what? He's fine. I mean, remember, I AM the queen of the worst case scenario, and at this point I am so grateful to see him whole and coherent I'm ready to cry. That is why this post is about the circles of Heck. Not Hell.

5. The School district police officer tells me that I really need to file a report with the City cops, especially if I am planning on pressing charges. He tells me that the PD has been called, but it may take a while.

6. The paramedics have me sign their paperwork and tell me I should still probably take him to the ER to be checked out. (Is this why people use ER's inappropriately? I asked if I couldn't just take him to his primary care physician, and the EMT was flummoxed. It had never occurred to him.) I couldn't get us in until the end of the day, but we were still out of the DR's about ten hours sooner than we would have been out of the ER.


7. Told the school I'd keep Big O home the next day, and waited for the cops. and waited and waited.finally decided that if we'd waited that long, Big O could probably hit the hay, cancelled the request.

8. The next day, called the cops to again have a report taken, and oh, right around 4 pm they finally showed, and then the cop tells me that this is nothing that they can help me with and why didn't I call the school district cops that day? THEY WERE CALLED, and they told me I needed to speak to you. At this point, the officer is climbing into his car. I had to force him to take my report! Big sigh. "All right, what happened." Um, would you like to talk to my son, since he was the one who was there? yeah, okay, go get him. sigh.

9. lovely. Then the school calls to tell me that Big O is being suspended right along with the boys, because HE was the aggressor, by way of throwing the book. The kicking of his backpack was not bodily contact--never mind the two on one. Big O initiated physical contact and escalated the situation. Five days.

10. The mother of the second boy dragged him to our house by the ear, absolutely horrified. He had not participated in the actual assault, and had been trying to get the other boy to stop. Mom wanted to hear from Big O that this was true, and not her son trying to make himself look better, and they wanted to check on Big O.

11. These are boys in Big O's Class. The big thuggy one that kicked him in the face was a guest at Big O's fourth grade birthday.

12. I am so grateful that it was not worse. I mean fall down on my knees, thank you lord baptist revival grateful. I am pissed that Big O is being treated the same as the other boy. and by the school district definition, why did they suspend the second boy at all? If the kicking of the backpack wasn't assault, then why is he involved at all? grrr grr grrr.

13. So I am now fighting with the school district. Guess what? Even after all of the stories in the news, no Bullying policy is in place at our school district. I feel better (still not great) about the suspension, I'm told it's what happens first before they look into expelling certain kids who have had other problems. Big O is totally disgusted that his karate never came into play. I feel bad for him on that score. We're gonna have his shi-fu work with him on that one....

center>Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

WTF Wednesday

Okay, I admit that I am unfamiliar with online etiquette. But when you
make your photos public on FLICKR, they are available to be used by
anyone unless you copyright it or use creative commons or something.
That was my understanding of the rules. If there is no blog this
button, you cannot use the photo.

so this popped up in my mailbox today:

Hey~ That's MY *sweet* dog! He was actually in the middle of a yawn
here, but I thought it was a hysterical catch. Sign up for a flickr
account & leave me a comment on this photo.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hasfurrychildren/135909230/ It's nice to be informed when my photos are being used. Even nicer to ask me
first. :)

I assume when you make it public and available that you are okay with
it. It's been a rough week already, (more on that later) but WTF? Now
I am not nice for informing them that I used their photo, which was
fully attributed and linked back to flickr, which I thought was the
extent of my responsibility. I am even less nice for not asking
permission. I have photos on Flickr, and they are private. The reason
that they are private is because I do not want them available for the
general public to use. PRI-VATE. (pry-vit) Try it!

I am surly and cranky and all shall be revealed in my TT, but I say
again, WTF?!?!?!?,

Lazy Sunday

Ahh...I love a lazy day.

We went to my brother's yesterday and lit a magnificent bonfire, er birthday cake for my dad. Sixty-four candles make quite a blaze.

I wasn't going to blog today, but Little O just corrected me. Her new passion is grilled cheese sandwiches. I just offered to make one for her brother, and it all became clear.

"No, mama, but you can make him a BOY cheese sandwich."

Apparently they are GIRL cheese sanwiches in her Little O brain.

tee hee.

Love my O's!

Guess what????

Do you have a relative that insists on giving your child whatever they want, despite any protestations from a parental unit?

Sometimes it just happens to be whatever the child has in their hands, not something they are throwing a fit over, or anything they are even particularly pining for.

My mom tells me to just be gracious, sometimes people need to feel like they have something to give. Okay.

 

That is how I got an 18" fake chicken. I like to think of it as a birthday present for Little O. As you can see, it has real feathers. In an effort to keep the feathers from ending up all over the house, I have put the bird in a place of honor that just happens to be high up. But as I blog now, I look up, and I see chicken butt. 

Thursday 13 will not be seen today.

 

But for your viewing pleasure, here is my halloween costume for next year. I just need a cowbell and a fake hairy chest... 

For your reading pleasure I offer you this link, and a word of caution. This man is not a mommy blog. But he is freaking funny. My blogfriends with delicate sensibilities (do I have any of those?) should probably not click. But I would. seriously.

Thank dog I still have a job!

 

 

He is a very cool boss and I am grateful to be gainfully employed.

(He doesn't know my blog exists, but I like to cover my bases.)

I will post the wings when I have recovered from thier brutal rejection by Little O. 

Halloween Jennfactor 5.6

So happy halloween. yeah. whatever.

The fates were messin' with me yesterday.

I could not get my skull cap to fit yesterday morning, finally got it
most of the way on, but had to wear my polo collar up like a bad
eighties gigilo.

Bright side: I won $50 for the craziest costume, boss told me it was my
final paycheck when he handed it to me. Thank dog he has a sense of
humor! (photo to follow once I get home)

My computer crashed in the middle of helping a very pissy customer, and
I have to say, after several calls to the help desk, it STILL is not
right.

Bright side: Boss let us go an hour early to get our little goblins
ready for trick or treat.

So my car ran out of gas and I spent my extra hour waiting for the
Honey to rescue me.

Bright side: I finished the butterfly wings while I waited for my
rescue.

Little O hated it and wanted to wear anything else BUT the wings.

Bright side: After dinner, Little O was more receptive to the costume.

And my camera was at work.

I swear, some otherworldy force was laughing their ass off yesterday.
I could almost hear the "Watch this..."

Big O did hang out with his dad, (it's Ex's week, anyway) but all
things considered, maybe that was for the best.

Death Takes a Holiday

 

 

If I've done this right, here is Big O's interpretation of what death would do on vacation. Bowling and Cotton Candy. 

Confession #68,428,585

Halloween was much easier and more fun when I had one child. Maybe it's the age difference, but these endless nights of Halloween are seeming to go on and on this year. When Big O was small, it was ONE night, Two if we hear about something fun.

We have been trick-or treating to the UOP dorms, which was fun, but Little O was DRAGGIN' by the end, and Big O was ready to go for days more.

We went to Big O's school Family Fun Night, where I felt like Satan for not volunteering like they were begging us to, but what, exactly, am I going to do with my four year old while I flip burgers? Because making her sit for even fifteen minutes is not an option when the carnival is going on.

I still have the actual night to go, which will involve lots of ferrying Little O from one relative to the next so that they can ooh and ah over her. Maybe it was easier with Big O because nobody lived in town and ther were no older siblings to keep up with. This year should be better, though, because the Honey actually has the night off. This year I don't have to try and do it all myself!

Big O will be with his dad, which ought to make it easier, but it doesn't, because I miss him when he's gone, and hate that he and Little O don't get all of their holidays together. Hate it.

Whatcha gonna do, though?

The big reveal....

I do not have a JD bottle tattoo from my shoulder blades to my butt
cheeks. But I frequently tell people that I do in memes.

I won a couple of poetry contests in high school, but I was never
ridiculed and/or traumatized by classmates in the eighth grade over my
poetry (although I probably should have been). It's true that I don't
enjoy poetry at all, though. Except for those Tuesday Work Sucks
Haikus....

I was not the one who superglued the pennies. That was the first bad
boyfriend. But the manager WAS that awful.

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On a separate note, have you tried the new white chocolate M&M's? They
are like little candy coated balls of Crisco to me.

THe dark chocolate ones are keepers, though!

Men Beware---not your thing...I hope.

I had the strangest experience in the stirrups yesterday...

I have gone for regular pap smears since I turned 16. That's twenty
years of awful paper dresses.

I usually go to an Ob-Gyn, but I was getting a physical anyway, and I
was overdue for an exam, so I killed two birds with one copay. My Dr.
is a nice middle aged Filipino lady. But she kept SHOWING me things.
Like everything. She beamed at me as she showed me the swab, and then
the speculum. UGH. She was so excited, and seemed to want to reassure
me that it was all good.

Lady, I'm trying to block this from my brain and pretend it's not
happening. Admittedly, after twenty years and two kids, it's not nearly
as traumatic as it used to be, but it's not a lot of fun, either.

Was it because she doesn't usually do them? Is this standard practice?
It's always been my experience that they cover it all back up
discreetly under something. Maybe it's the difference between male and
female Doctors?

Does anyone else get the show and tell treatment on this lovely, lovely
day?

Thursday Thirteen #17--2 birds with one stone!

I WAS TAGGED FOR A ME ME BY Jenny In Ca, and I am combining it with my TT. Ten things you didn’t know about me—and three lies.

1. When I was the age that Big O is now, I had a huge waterfight at my house, boys against girls. Girls were inside with bowls and cups and things, boys were outside with hoses—aiming into the house. My mother came home in the middle. And yet I live.
2. I have a black thumb. I better never go into rehab—the rule in the movie 28 days, where you have to keep a plant alive for a year before you get a pet, and have that for a year before you can date? I’d be a lonely, lonely girl surrounded by my dead foliage—and not even a cat for company.
3. I regret my tattoo. At twenty a Jack Daniels Bottle is very rock and roll. At thirty-six it’s feeling a little skank-ish. Plus it’s hard to explain to your O’s.
4. My kids are the third generation where everyone gets the same first initial. But I broke tradition by not giving them the same middle initial.
5. When I was a kid I had an extra tooth in the roof of my mouth and had to have it removed, but they did not believe me when I told them I could feel them working on me. To this day I have an unreasonable fear of dentists. I don’t cry when I see a dentist on TV, but I always find a reason to miss any appointment I set.
6. I won a poetry contest when I was in the eighth grade and had my picture in the paper along with my poem. I was ridiculed in school and it turned out to be the most miserable experience of my life, and that is why I hate poetry to this day.
7. I was a social hermit in high school and went skiing every weekend with my father the winter of my junior year. The night of the Junior prom (when I had been turned down by the boy I FINALLY got the nerve up to ask--he came out two years later but by that time I was SCARRED for life), my dad had to work but arranged for one of his ski patrol buddies to pick me up and go night skiing so I wouldn’t be home dwelling on it.
8. On that note, I was socially retarded and did not have a boyfriend until I was seventeen. He was every parent’s worst nightmare, a divorced twenty-three year old father, working fast food and living with his mother. Oh, and he was a dope smoking heavy metal fan whose wardrobe consisted solely of cut up t-shirts…WINNER! I stayed with him until I was twenty and my parents about peed their pants—I got a trip to Europe, they were so desperate to get me away from him.
9. I lost my virginity at sixteen in a calculated move that made for a hysterical story for another post. Possibly for another blog. And yes, that timeline is accurate.
10. One day after school I decided to show off and take the 1976 Ford f-150 king cab truck for a drive around the block with my girlfriend. The stupid thing was huge and had a first gear that was essentially useless unless you were hauling something up a hill. I got it out of the driveway and around the corner and it just would not move anymore. My brother just happened to be coming over, and drove it home for me and never told my folks.
11. I was onstage with Bill Cosby once. My brother introduced me to him as the family pet in front of the entire audience.
12. I once super glued pennies to the windshield of a very bad manager. She was nasty and vile and had a revolving rubber check that she would have us cash and then take out before the deposit went to the bank. To add insult to injury, she just used the same damned check over and over again.
13. I am closer to forty than thirty now, and I have never plucked my eyebrows. I think I might do it this year for the Christmas Party. I think.

**********************************************************

Total Mind Blowing Update-- My
TT #4 was thirteen people I wanted to find again. One of them found me BECAUSE of my TT! WOW! I am so excited and now have to figure out how to contact her! Amanda, if you’re reading my blog, email me!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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Time for some more of that sweet, sweet Linky Love!

Bring on the Revolution!

I have a list of people that need to GO!

People are CRANKY lately. Man!

I will be glad when this week is over.

I am a bad mother--Little O keeps asking for Smarshmallows, and I keep giving her a few at a time just so I can hear her say smarshmallows.

:D

Tasty Tuesday--Mmmm...Tri Tip

My blog sistas, I am writing to you today about the most glorious supermarket innovation EVER. I just took it for granted that it was everywhere, like tortillas. My auntie from Tennessee had no idea what we were talking about.

Go ask your butcher for some Tri Tip. When the local market throws some on the grill, my heart goes pitter pat. I will pay their highway robbery prices to take one home already cooked and melt in your mouth tender. Or I will grill one myself. But I don't do it as well as the burly boy from the market.

Costco sells them here, but my auntie says not so in the south. Brisket is hard to find here so I guess it's a regional thing. Tri tip is a good compromise for us because I like it Pink and the Honey likes it overcooked. I am slowly bringing him around. But Don't let anybody put barbecue sauce on it. Ugh. Why ruin a perfectly good piece of meat with that goo? That's okay for ribs. Tri tip deserves better.

This message has been brought to you by the atkins diet and your friendly neighborhood cardiologist.

***************************

I was trying to put in a Flickr photo, but alas, no luck.

Here's a little more info from our friends at Wiki.

My Honest Child...

Little O had a fabulous birthday, got a Little Mermaid scooter to go with her new helmet and elbow/knee pads. She was dying to to try it all out after school today. We got her into all of her safety gear, and began our circuit of the block.

Halfway through she looks at me and says,

"Mama, this is not a lot of fun, but it is a little fun."

Love my O's.

Me Me for a mutha f***in' Monday

It's thief week at Did You Ever...
I have cheerfully stolen this meme from CRSE, at that blogosphere Hotspot, Zamphir Panflutemaster. I may steal several of her answers, as well.

• DO YOU SNORE? 'Fraid so. Not always, and nowhere near the volume and consistency of my chainsaw lover. The man SNORES.
• ARE YOU A LOVER OR A FIGHTER? I'm an observer.
• WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR? Failing my kids/disappointing my folks.
• AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO MANIAC? eh. I played, but not obsessively
• WHAT DO YOU THINK OF “REALITY” TV? It's fun to watch for a while, but I like to see the tasks more than the people. (I love the locations on Amazing Race, the pictures on Top Model, the food of Hell's Kitchen)
• DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS? No. But every once in a while I catch myself with a pen, and it grosses me out..
• WERE YOU A CUTE BABY? I was very smiley, and I had dimples. I think I was troll-doll cute. My mom says I was adorable, but, you know, she's my mom.
• IS THE SINGLE LIFE FOR YOU? Nope, I like having a partner.
• WHAT COLOR IS YOUR KEYBOARD? Black.
• DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? Yes.
• HAVE YOU EVER BUNGEE JUMPED? Nope. Couldn't now until my kids are grown.
• ANY SECRET TALENTS? Bwahahaha.
• WHAT’S YOUR IDEAL VACATION SPOT? Beach house filled with books.
• CAN YOU SWIM? It's not pretty, I got no strokes, but yeah, I can tread water and get from point A to point B. I enjoy it.
• HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DONNIE DARKO? Nope.
• DO YOU GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE OZONE? Um, sure. I drive an SUV, but it's a Honda--does that help the karmic/ozonic balance?
• HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO THE CENTER OF A TOOTSIE POP? If I ever met a person who could actually do the licking...well...i think theyd be a pretty fun date...LMAO- this was CRSE's answer.
• CAN YOU SING THE ALPHABET BACKWARDS? No.
• DO YOU PREFER ELECTRIC OR MANUAL PENCIL SHARPENER? I end up with no pencil left with an electric pencil sharpener. I like a good, school-grade manual sharpener with the double barrels that revolve with the little crank, you know the one? Usually located near the teacher's desk...
• WHAT’S YOUR STAND ON HUNTING? I come from a long line of Okies. I'm fine with it as long as you're not asking ME to shoot something. And as long as you do it humanely and take care of your shit. Don't go maiming things. People are freaking irresponsible about other PEOPLE, let alone animals that can't report them.
• IS MARRIAGE IN YOUR FUTURE? I have a sparkly ring that says so.
• DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I cringe at the thought of my handwriting. As bad as my typing is, I heart my typing over my chicken scratch.
• WHAT ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO? Spring. I love it, but it doesn't love me.
• WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAID, “I LOVE YOU” ? Every ten minutes to my O's. They are gonna need so much therapy.
• DO YOU CRY AT WEDDINGS? Not usually.
• HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS? Scrambled in butter to a tender sunny yellow, NOT overcooked, with Cold sliced tomatoes, sliced avocado, good salsa and flour tortillas. yum.
• ARE BLONDES DUMB? Is dubya blonde?
• WHERE DOES THE OTHER SOCK END UP? Art Hoppe explained that socks eat their mates.
• WHAT TIME IS IT? too late for me to be online.
• DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME? Mistress. Supa Jen.
• IS MCDONALD’S DISGUSTING? Probably, and yet I still pull into that drive thru.
• WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN A CAR? About 2 hours ago.
• DO YOU PREFER BATHS OR SHOWERS? Bath tub to relax, but a shower to be clean. Bathtubs are not clean to me.
• IS SANTA CLAUS REAL? It's an office to be assumed. Like the incarnations of Piers Anthony. Give birth and the office is yours.
• DO YOU LIKE TO HAVE YOUR NECK KISSED? I've had children with men who kissed my neck. Literally.
• ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? Not usually.
• WHAT ARE YOU ADDICTED TO? Chocolate croissants.
• CRUNCHY OR CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER? Crunchy
• CAN YOU CRACK YOUR NECK? No.
• HAVE YOU EVER RIDDEN IN AN AMBULANCE? Only when I was a kid, my daddy did a lot of health fairs and things.
• IS DRUG FREE THE WAY TO BE? I tend to put off taking an Advil for as long as I can, and Vicodin are nasty--But I'm not Tom Cruise--They make a lot of these medicines for a reason.
• ARE YOU A HEAVY SLEEPER? When I am sick!
• WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? Grey-blue.
• DO YOU LIKE YOUR LIFE? Overall, sure!
• ARE YOU PSYCHIC? No, I'm rather dense.
• HAVE YOU READ CATCHER IN THE RYE? Yes.
• DO YOU PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS? I wish I played guitar.
• HAVE YOU EVER STOLEN MONEY? I freaking put my own money INTO the till when I worked at B. Dalton. We were twenty dollars short and I'd never had that happen before and I almost peed my pants. Years later a bitter employee put that into her termination report, and My DM asked me about it. By that time I knew that the company sees that as almost as bad as pocketing cash, but I looked at him and said, well, yeah, I did. It was my first week as a manager. I sure as hell don't do it now. He laughed and casually tossed out that she really was a bitter bitch. He was right-she was termed by someone else, three years later, and THEN she rats me out? I loved that man.
• CAN YOU SNOWBOARD? Nope, but I love to ski.
• DO YOU LIKE CAMPING? If we are fully equipped. I'm not saying we need a trailer, but I want a certain comfort level. No beanie weenies from a can, thank you.
• DO YOU SNORT WHEN YOU LAUGH? Not usually.
• DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? In theory..
• ARE DOGS A MAN’S BEST FRIEND? No. That would be the giant squid living in the depths of the marianas trench.
• YOU BELIEVE IN DIVORCE? Lord, yes.
• CAN YOU DO THE MOONWALK? You see, that would be DANCING, and I can't even pull off a decent Elaine. I am the original wallflower.
• DO YOU MAKE A LOT OF MISTAKES? snicker giggle. Have we met?
• IS IT COLD OUTSIDE TODAY? Nope, it went into the eighties.
• WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Combo pizza leftover from Little O's Princess day.
• DO YOU WEAR NAIL POLISH? Love it, hate taking it off. But Once it begins to go, it MUST come off. Thanks, mom!
• HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU LIKE RIGHT NOW? More than ten, less than twenty.
• WHAT’S THE MOST ANNOYING TV COMMERCIAL? Any tampon commercial. Big O still doesn't quite get the mechanics of it, and I'm letting him wander in a fog of horrified male confusion.OOOOOOOOOOOOH! Can I say a radio commercial? There is a campaign commercial, and it starts with a wife introducing a husband who oddly, reads all of the political ads that come in the mail. Then she asks him what he has learned. He explains that candidate A talks about more than the national things that annoy us, like foreign policy. He cares about things that matter here in the valley. Take Meth--at this point she moans.
  It's the kind of noise you make when you find out your favorite nephew sold his grandmother's car for a hit. He wasn't TELLING you to take meth, you stupid bitch. It annoys the crap out of me. It's poorly written and poorly acted, and I am stunned each and every time when Candidate A comes on to say he approved this ad. If this is an example of his judgment, Stay the hell away from Washington, there are enough of you there already.
• DO YOU SHOP AT AMERICAN EAGLE? My right thigh considered it once, but my gigantic chest vetoed the idea.
• FAVORITE SONG AT THE MOMENT? My mind is blank. I keep singing snippets of some fifties song, but I don't know what it is. I'll have to torture everyone at work with it tomorrow. today. ack. goodnight.