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.