Monday, October 31, 2005


Where did I put my stinkin' know, the one that goes under my 18th century gown? Dammit! I had it right here!

Saturday, October 29, 2005

I am Halloween Super Fun Mom!

Echo Echo Echo!

Stinkin' font sizes...

The party is over...Thank God. I've gratefully used two of my bestest housewifely doodads (August's and October's). Link to right >>>>>

Four boys and one girl attended, all ages 11 and 12. Two no shows. Four pizzas. One gallon of ice cream. Five thousand candy corns ground into my carpet.

One boy came covered in fake red blood. My carpet got covered in fake red blood. And my couch and there is probably some in my new van. Thanks August's bestest housewifely doodad.

Another boy asked to use the restroom and then made a horrendous odor. Luckily it didn't go too far. Thanks October's bestest housewifely doodad.

I went to the store this morning for last minute party supplies. I got pumpkins for 8 cents a pound. This made me incredibly happy. Inside the store not a single Halloween item could be found except for Halloween themed party supplies and bags of candy in discount carts in front of the store. Note the's stinkin' TWO days before Halloween. By all rights I still should be able to buy that big Halloween themed candy bowl that used to be on the shelf that now houses Santa Claus mugs. Nothing is sacred. The store was out of beer...not that I wanted any for a party for adolescents.

Do not give kids expo whiteboard markers to make tombstones....sniffffff.

Do not huff directly from the fog machine.

The kids played games from my youthful Halloween parties. They declared that we had the best party ever, even though no beer was served and it ended at 8. I have photos I will post later.

I'm kinda tired now and the party isn't over for me...hint hint nudge nudge knowhatImean...

Thursday, October 27, 2005

I Want Candy

I was just sharing some of my history with my husband and I thought I'd spread the love and share it with you too.

The boyfriend I had before Justin was an interesting sort. My parents didn't like him. It had something to do with me being 17 and him being fresh out of the Navy and 22. This particular young man gave me a line. This line was unsuccessful.

"Let's paint the head red and pretend it's a lollipop."

Justin, the witty man I married, has this to say about that pathetic line...

"How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? One...two...three....CRUNCH! Three."


Pressure Gauge Blues

I settle down into bed last night and I hear this strange noise.

"Justin, you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Hear that, that whooshing noise. That steady whoooosh."
"Oh that noise? Becky, it's your boobs deflating."

Sigh. Goodbye big nursing boobs.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

I'm in the Mood for Love...

To the side, like most any blog, you'll find links to blogs I read. I need to update this badly. The last update was to include WWdN: in exile under Wil Wheaton dot Net. I'm a longtime fan of Wil Wheaton. I had Tiger Beat pages lovingly taped to my wall of my Uncle Willy. He has such poise... I discovered Wil's blog two years ago. So fresh and so funny. It's unfortunate that he's had programming issues of huge proportions and has had to get a temporary blog.

Justin and I have been watching I Love the 80's: 3D on VH1. I tell Justin, "Wil Wheaton is on this series!" and he gasps. He knows me likey the Wil. I've taunted Justin with images of Wil on the desktop from time to time. Somehow this Wil worship has led to a marital joke about me wearing Wil Wheaton pasties...I don't know how to explain that one. If you see me IRL someday and I have a funny look on my face and a certain jiggle, I've got a pair on.

We are still watching 80's: 3D for it's own sake. At least I think so. I don't seem to be the only one watching with a schoolgirly dreamboat expression on my face. The only one in that series with tatas is Elvira and Justin isn't blank staring at those. Who's the culprit? Who is going to be the object of my wrath? She is SO going down...
Mo Rocca?

My husband is simpering over MO ROCCA? I know the man is pretty and funny and full of Daily Show goodness, but really! Why couldn't Justin simper over Wil Wheaton? (Because that would make excellent fantasy material.)

Oh Mo Rocca, you lisping nostalgia hyper tart! Why do you attract my husband so? Sorry, dumb question, it's the undeniable sexy geekiness.

I can understand that.


It seems that every morning, when I drop my kids off for school, my car always manages to be behind a man driving his new Lincoln. This is a shame because this man cannot drive. He's done 30 in the 15mph school zone and then 5 the next day. He uses the wrong blinkers. He goes over curbs like it was going out of style. He passes on the right to turn right when everyone else he's passed also has to turn right, blinkers on, and they didn't seem to feel the need to drive over people's yards to do it.

This morning he simply stopped in the middle of the street. 5 mph and then 0 mph. Dead stop. Why? Because the man had noticed two cats in the yard of the house across from the school mating. I know free porn is free porn, but dude, pullllll over to practice voyeurism and let the rest of us by! It's a blessed thing that cat sex doesn't last more than two seconds because he did manage to put one of his feet on the gas pedal and go. Yes, we honked. Honking doesn't disturb cat love.

This is worse than the mother of one of my son's friends who walked her kid from her car to the school sidewalk wearing an old orange holey Tshirt and bright red new silk pajama bottoms. Her story doesn't end with the morning. The next afternoon I spot her wearing the same pants, this time with a bright pink Tshirt, doing afterschool cross walk duty. I can't make fun of her for this. She's a smart lady. There is no way in those pants that the damned man driving the new Lincoln can miss her and therefore her life is saved for the time being.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The 7 Habits of Highly Ineffective Marrieds

Married with kids romance is a complicated process. Because the loss of brain cells new love stupidity is gone there are many things a couple must consider...

1. Can we really interrupt the 9:00 pm program on TV? Crap! Is there a tape we can record this show on? We should get TiVo. Let's look over the budget sometime. Let's just buy more tapes...

2. You ate (pickles, garlic, ranch dressing, onion rings, chile relleno, ramen) for lunch didn't you? I can still taste it! You ate (broccoli, burritoes, cheese, sour cream, tofu, pretzels) for lunch didn't you? I can still smell it!

3. That was a kid wasn't it! No wait, it wasn't. Wait, it was. "Go to SLEEEEEEEP!" Did you lock the door. I don't know, go check. Where are my pants? Get the cat off the bed!

4. Take off your socks. It's cold in here! Put your feet here. Ewww no! Honey, do you mind that I haven't shaved my legs for three months? No? I love you. I'm sorry about the socks, I'll take them off...uhh....grunt...they.won't.budge. I'll shave tomorrow, I promise.

5. Is the...garbage out? Dinner pan soaking? Baby covered? Computer really off? Cat in? Chickens plucked?

6. How long IS that Disney video anyway? Fifteen minutes. That'll do. The kids never go in the laundry room, syncronize the watches and I'll see you there at 15.05 hours.

7. Don't worry, I'll make a fresh pot of coffee in the morning. I'll be fine.

You folks got a #8?

Friday, October 21, 2005

Mother, Jugs and Speed.

Life is tough and life is not fair. This is a difficult lesson to learn when you are a little kid. Some of us parents teach it better than others...

My husband is tool clueless. I own and use all the power tools in my house. When it comes to car maintenance we are at the mercy of Jiffy Lube. Justin and I so love the Jiffy Lube. There is something about a virile grease monkey under your car that makes the Newsweek you are reading in the waiting area seem like trashy erotica.

What makes it difficult to enjoy your Newsweek in the waiting area is other people's children. Waiting areas at Jiffy Lubes are located between two car bays; a 10 by 10 foot space. Half of this space is taken up by drink machines and a behind the counter area for employees. This leaves enough room for four chairs each on opposite sides of the room. These chairs are placed so you can look out the windows into the car bays and make sure your car is being serviced (giggle) in a timely manner.

My family had taken up two of the chairs. Justin and I sat with our middle child on my lap and my oldest kid standing behind a soda machine watching them run a monster truck on that spindle doo-hickey. Next to us sat a business man. Across from us sat two more men and a Daddy with two kids, a boy (we'll call him Johnny-Poo) and a girl (we'll call her Widdle Janey), both around age 4.

When we entered the waiting area and sat down we were told loudly by Johnny-Poo that "those are my seats!" and then "Daddy, they sat in our seats!" Daddy explained that no one was sitting there and that Johnny-Poo wasn't using the seats. Johnny-Poo flung himself on the floor and kicked. Widdle Janey, laughing, declared, "Johnny is being a bumhead again!" to which Daddy admonished her because nice people don't use the word bumhead.

Justin and I raised our eyebrows at each other. This wait was going to be FUN.

Johnny-Poo forgot his indignation when he noticed that he could get behind the counter if he crawled under the counter gate. There are plusses to perspective when you fling yourself on the floor. Johnny pssssttts at his sister and Widdle Janey quickly joins him. They giggle for a bit and then wreak complete havoc on whatever office supplies and computer gadgets they keep back there. Daddy is oblivious. Jiffy Lube Hunk tries to get back there to do whatever hunks do back there and can't, so he shoos Johnny-Poo and Widdle Janey out. Johnny again flings himself to the floor and Janey starts wailing. This gets Daddy's attention and he promises candy bars at their next stop for good behavior.

This works for all of two seconds. Excited by the threat of chocolate Johnny and Janey run about the waiting room playing "monkey" and stepping on everyone's toes. My middle child, then about the same age, looks at me with a "what the hell are these tards doin?" face. Daddy looks at my children with disdain, calls back his beasts and tells them to sit...or no candy bars.

Two cars finished. The man sitting next to us and the two men by Daddy sprint out like it's a 100m race. Daddy glares at them on their way out.

Sitting lasts a little longer. Johnny's bottom half sits rather nicely but his top half proceeds to twirl his ragged baby blanket over his head helicopter style. Janey has a baby doll which she flips about her like a possessed Mary Lou Retton. I swear, Daddy swiped my Newsweek fantasy because his nose is buried in the magazine and again he's oblivious. Twirling and flipping are joined by loud "whirrrrrssss" and "ahhhhhhhhsss" because helicopters should whirr and gymnasts should get applause. When poor Betsy Wetsy manages to land on Daddy's Newsweek he shouts, "No candy now!" and buries his nose again.

Justin and I look at each other and roll our eyes. It's a good thing their car is almost done.

Since they will be getting candy anyway, Johnny-Poo and Widdle Janey keep on with their twirl-whirring and flip-ahhing. The volume rises to a level that Daddy can't ignore anymore. He confiscates blanky and he confiscates baby. Johnny and Janey wail in protest...and that's when Daddy comes up with this little gem...he turns to Johnny-Poo and says in his most authoratative voice...


Justin and I look at each other and no way could we hold this in. We laughed so hard that we had to cross our legs tight to keep from peeing. We were still wiping the tears from our eyes when the relieved Jiffy Lube Hunk told them their car was done.

Snuggly was back in the arms of Johnny-Poo within a minute, of course and ice Cream was promised for good behavior at their next destination. Daddy glared at us on his way out. We made a note of which direction they turned so we wouldn't follow them. We didn't bring any spare pants with us.

When life is tough and things don't go your way, just remember that Snuggly is a privilege, then go read a Newsweek. Have a good weekend folkies.


So, I have some sort of flu...blah. I feel like crap.

Not only this but the only time I take a provocative photo ever in all the years I've been using the internets and I post ends up misrepresented on a damned blog-zine. They got a very polite email about the situation.


Thursday, October 20, 2005

I Sit on my Tuffet

I can't blog brain is mush. My mom used to make me eat mush. Should mush be a solid? I will try to get in a good post later this evening.

I took my boys to school this morning where I see the mother of one of my son's friends. She's wearing a large orange T-shirt with holes and bright red silk pajama bottoms. She's usually a sloppy woman but this morning she stood out a little more than usual. I should talk though, I was wearing red sweat pants and one of Justin's blue T-shirts. At least I wasn't double parked.

Back to sewing. (Jill, the costumes are going out TODAY!)

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Plop Plop...Fizz Fizz

I've had a HUGE jump in hits yesterday and it's all because of this pic. I wrote about our little Katie in my Sept. 7th entry. I hope some of you Katie Holmes pic searchers actually read some of my blog content because I'm cuter than Katie is and...well...I have better taste in men. I like men with brains.

Let's get this out of our systems, shall we?



I hope that silent childbirth thing goes well for her.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Why the hell is Desperate Housewives still on TV?

I wrote this particular rant at a forum I read daily over two years ago. I realized then, as I was being pelted with phone calls asking for favors from random folk, that I had unknowingly turned into a walking stereotype. I would touch my head and wonder if the hairdo fairy had come in the night and cut me a nice Carol Brady...

Before you read my rant I want to clarify that I have reasons that work for my one particular family to why I stay home. These reasons don't have to work for you nor do you have to like them nor do they have to make any sense to you. I made a perfectly valid choice (and isn't feminism about the ability to make choices?) to do what I'm doing. If you are doing whatever you do and it works for you and your family, then I'm happy for ya!

This rant is about my battle with the stereotype...


I am a stay at home parent. As such I...

1. am not lazy, ugly or unkempt. On the other side of the coin, I am also not obssesively clean. You can touch things in my house, I won't mind.

2. am not bored, lonely or waiting for a "good time".

3. am not free to watch your kids at any time whenever. Do not call me at 6 am the day you need a sitter because your regular sitter canceled last week. Do not call me when your child is sick at school and you can't miss a meeting. If I agree to watch your sick kid, expect a dry cleaning bill if they puke on my carpet, sofa or clothing. When I watch your kid it's a favor, if I watch your kid consistently it's a job and you will pay me.

4. am not free to do your errands. Pick up your own mail, dry cleaning, groceries, etc. I am also not wanting to do your housework, even if you pay me ten bucks an hour. I am also not wanting to do a majority of the bake sale baking because I'm home and that's what housewives do. Bake your own cupcakes.

5. am not clued in to what is happening during daytime TV. Buy Tivo.

6. am not willing to be on every committee in the community because I apparently have free time. No, I don't care that cows are being mass murdered...I'm heading for Burger King. No I don't want to go door to door asking for donations, in fact, I think that's germy. I gave at the office.

7. am not stupid. I did not give up my brains to be a stay at home parent. I am still perfectly capable of reading, studying and forming opinions. To further this idea...I don't care if you are a working parent, I am not superior to you nor are you to me. Don't treat me like I'm out of the working loop and I won't talk over your head about programming on Nick Jr.


You may have seen my rant before. It got passed around a little and I hope I got proper credit! I'm finding that I'm getting a lot more traffic from search engines with housewife as a key term. These searches go in two files. One for "nasty lil housewife slut whore" and another for "tips for housewives and for staying home". While I can do the housewife tipping (Is that like cow tipping?), I'd rather not deal with that being my only value as a human on the face of the earth.

Besides, I look lousy in pearls.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

How Much is that Doggie in the Window

I'm here blogging at my sister Jill's house. She has very healthy children who deposit healthy amounts of excrement in all three of their bathrooms. How do I know this? One son is odoriffic. WHEW! You can't eat as much as that kid eats and not expect to pull one off like a labrador.

So, in the interest of family peace I've offered to my sister October's Bestest Housewifely Doodad.
California Scents Citrus all purpose air freshener. This stuff is heavy duty air freshening power! I personally use it in my own bathroom and ne'er do I have a stinky smell! One short spray and you are left with a tangy orange grove flourishing in your loo.

What is better is that I bought this fine product at Kmart on sale. It had been marked down from 3.99 to 40 cents. I would pay the full four bucks now. I might even pay 4.01.

I should stick an entire can into the pants of my nephew. That might cure the smell but it won't cure the incessant barking.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Stop, Drop and Roll

Guess which one I put in my coffee this morning?
I usually make my posts late in the evening. I didn't last night. I was tending to this...

I dropped a glass. The are two reasons it didn't shatter on my kitchen floor. Number one being that it landed on my second toe and number two being that it weighed ten pounds. The little piggy that stayed home should have never attempted to do the dishes. Yup, it's broken. The blunt weight broke the skin and toenail and I bled on my impractical white lineoleum. It's really painful.

This makes me sad because on Sunday we were going to go to Lagoon and ride rolly coasties. I will have to wear the sturdiest shoes I've got. Last year we went to Lagoon and I got on this ride...

And I got off a glorious shade of green. I usually LOVE this ride. That's when I figured out that even though I wasn't due for a couple more days that my period was going to be very very late.

Well internets folks, I'm off to pack a bag or two. The family is heading into Utah County this weekend to attend my niece's wedding. I was going to wear nice shoes with my skirt but I think I will attend in my slippers. It will be a scandal for years!

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Oh Great Pumpkin, HELP!

When making deals with your children for certain goals, like actually turning in completed assigned work to be graded on the day it's due, be prepared to pay up on your end of the bargain.

I now have to host a Halloween party for seven 11 to 12 year olds.

Oh, I'm happy to do it. I'm SUPER HALLOWEEN FUN MOM! (echo echo echo) I have 4 or 5 boxes of Halloween type decorations to throw around my house and yard. I will make some kind of green liquid refreshment and float yucky body part thingies in it. I will buy 50 lbs of dry ice for effect and make my heater work overtime. I will hang so many paper bats from the ceiling that conservationists and PETA will stage protests on my lawn. This is the part I'm excited about.

What is difficult about this party is the age group. These kids are between children and teens. Do I make them pin tails on donkeys or do I give them a beer bottle and say "spin it." What keeps these preteen monsters entertained without switching on a TV? Will they find the old games of my Halloween pasts just as charming as I did? Pizza is a given...there will be pizza that they will make themselves. I'm too smart to force any other food on them unless it is filled with lard, chocolate and sugar.

My son is pee in his pants excited about all this. He did earn it. As invites are going out Friday we have to decide if we host the party on Halloween night, which is a Monday and a school night, or we host it Saturday when many parents in this charming rural smeghole I live in take off 120 miles to the city to go to Walmart. They are both equally valid choices and I'm definitely on the fence.


Yesterday I had my TV on for background noise while I cleaned. I had been sorta listening to "The Waltons" and after this "Matlock" came on. I turn off my vacuum in time to hear this line from the wholesome detective show:

"Matlock, Jennifer is my best friend! She knows how much I love Dick!"

God, I wish I had Tivo.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

There is Beauty in the Breakdown

This morning I woke up as usual. I remember it like it was yesterday...uhhh. Anyway, I woke up, did the necessary that most everyone does when they wake up in the morning, then bee-lined for the coffee pot. Oh glorious morning dew! How you lift my night owl spirits!

The kitchen only seems to be in it's usual disarray of dishes half done. I miss one of three piles of cat barf on the impractical white linoleum by the space of my little toe. Hello kitty! My cat wasn't interested in cleaning it up and wasn't appreciative when I did it for him. Why I put up with his shenanigans I'll never know. It's not like he's bringing in any cash.

I end my day with the baby hurling on me. Baby hurl is so much cuter than cat hurl. Don't worry, the baby doesn't seem sick. He's gassy but he's not sick. We'll be retiring to the bathtub after Law and Order SVU. Lavendar baby shampoo smells manlier for a boy child than the orange stuff.


Justin and I just finished one of our favorite movies. HBO knows what we want. "Garden State" has one of the most satisfying kissing scenes in any movie. Zach Braff has a movie making style that is pure bliss to watch.

When Justin grows up he wants to be Zach Braff. He wants to be Zach Braff because Zachy boy lays his lips all over Natalie Portman. She shore does got a purdy mouth.

And talent. She never stares right into the camera!

Oh Natalie Portman, you Jedi pooping tart! Why do you attract my husband so? Sorry, dumb question. She is just so genuine!

I wonder if Natalie Portman hurl is cuter than cat hurl too.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Fancy Dijon Ketchups

Five out of my last six posts have been about my history. I thought I'd thrill you with something current.

I was pondering today the appropriateness of my title. Now that my postpartum hormones are leveling themselves out and the baby is four months old and sleeping through the night my ditzy-ness seems to be abating. The issue worked itself out just now because I had to go to the grocery store and retrieve my purse. I left in my cart. I was told the name of the bagger who found it and I immediately forgot that too. Sigh.

Justin, my absent minded husband, has been encouraging me to go down to the casino and win the Megabucks progressive. This is a dollar slot machine and you need to put in three dollars a pull to qualify to win the progressive prize which is several million dollars. We've had one machine hit the progressive in town, some two or three years ago. The man who got the lucky pull had only put two out of three dollar coins in the machine when he made his bet. Out of the several million he could have won if he'd timed that third coin just right he only went home with 10K. At least at a casino they serve you free drinkies because after a pull like that you'd need one.

I think everyone fantasizes about what they'd do if they hit the lottery. Besides filling an empty room with 1000 unwrapped loaves of wonder bread and having my way with Justin on the enriched spongey wholesomeness, I think I'd go nuts in a fabric store. Heckfire, I'd rent the fabric store and have my way with Justin between the fleece and the juvenile prints. No way would I do that near the silks!

And maybe I'd buy a green dress. Nah. That's cruel.

Sunday, October 09, 2005

And this one band 3

In part 2 of this series I blog about receiving one of the most prestigious awards you can be awarded in a high school level marching band. I was proud to know my instructors had recognized one of my better talents and qualities and my generous use of such for the welfare of the band. I was given 1992's...


Upon receiving this award at the end of the school year band banquet, the attendees rose up in a cheer...well except my parents. I think my mom was secretly proud though.

What did I do to receive such an award? Well...I publicly kissed and groped the harmonica* player...a lot. He was damned fine at it as well and that's why I give half the credit to him.

What I will blog about here is what the instructors DIDN'T see at band activities. I know you can keep a secret. Shhhhh!

On the same trip to San Fran where I stepped over a dead bum I also spent most of bus riding time with my hand down the harmonica player's pants. He didn't mind really. Band members were encouraged to bring blankets and pillows from home because we would spend our first night of the trip sleeping while the bus was on it's way to Reno then onto San Fran. The blankets saw a lot of action. Unfortunately this same action made my boyfriend need to pee...a lot. We were always stopping to let him pee. He had the bladder the size of a walnut. And here you were thinkin' we stopped for cleanup! No stopping necessary for that. I had baby wipes.

When we made it to our motel rooms we were divided so girls were on one floor and boys were on the upper floor. Did I stay on my floor? Nope. The animal magnetism from the room above and around the corner was just too much for me to resist. Upon arriving we started a rousing game of strip poker. I purposely lost the first hand and removed my bra from under my shirt. You wouldn't believe the zeal in which teenaged boys play poker when they know you are only wearing 3 more items of clothing, shoes not counting towards the game. I never lose another hand but they do. I had the harmonica player down to his tighty whities.

Time to leave is just before 11:00 bedcheck. The truant officer (a great guy) checked the harmonica player's room first of course, ten to 11. I thought I had more time! My boyfriend and I ran to the shower. On goes the water! We hear, "Where's that Bubba Ray*?" to which we hear his only half dressed roomates reply, "In the shower sir!" Perfect cover and the truant officer bought it. I look down at his wet tighty whities and laugh.

Five minutes later...

I'm scaling down the pole from the second floor to the ground floor. The truant officer had rounded the corner on the second floor and I made my escape! No telling metal stomping noises on the steps for me! I make it to my room with plenty of time before our own female chaperone checks on us. I change quickly and look particularly fresh in my pajamas and wet hair. I then had to share a bed with a girl that had eaten something bad and was up-chucking until she went to sleep. My damp clothes were dry by morning.

The harmonica player dumped me shortly before Thanksgiving break which was only just after the Sadie Hawkins Dance. We used each other mercilessly. He's still a good friend today and so is his wife. Sweet woman.

Incidentals that also got me the award were...
- Exclusively dating a boy the entirety of the year before. We also enjoyed kissing even though he wasn't in the band. This didn't mean he wasn't around band activities like hair in velcro.
- Wearing a pin on my extra cool denim jacket that proclaimed, "Birthdays come once a year. Aren't you glad you aren't a birthday?"
- Being asked on three occasions to share a bus seat with an enthusiastic kazoo* player and turning him down. Nothing against kazoo players but he thought I would maybe feel him up too and therefore he'd lose the extra geek pounds he'd put on around his head. I'm particular to whom I feel up.
- Knowing how to put on and use the condom that other band kids had found in a public restroom. Really kids, it's not that big of a mystery. I forget, they were mormon teens.
- Hanging my turquoise Jacqueline Smith A cup demi bra out of the back window of the bus attracting a car full of college boys which followed us for about 100 miles. Subsequently I'd take off said bra and put it on my car antenna while driving band kids places. What did I need a bra for anyway?
- Enjoying the nickname the Drum Major (the year before it was my sister) gave me. Tornado Tongue.
- Admitting I masturbated to two or three Flags after they asked me and therefore they found me fascinating and disgusting at the same time. (They were asking everyone to cause blushing and therefore they could know who did and didn't masturbate. I didn't blush.) Then one of them promptly picked up her Harlequin novel and began reading.
- Being comfortable talking about sexual functions and not giggling over it like the other girls. This made kids in school think I wasn't a virgin long before the actual de-virginizing happened.

No, I never did stick any instruments up my pussy. Ouch! The last thing I needed was flute player caused vaginal infections.

*Names and instruments changed to protect the naive.

Friday, October 07, 2005

A Thanksgiving's Dayafter Dream

"The term "passive-aggressive" was introduced in a 1945 U.S. War Department technical bulletin, describing soldiers who weren't openly insubordinate but shirked duty through procrastination, willful incompetence, and so on."

My dear friend Anonymous let the cat out of the bag in her comment on my October 4th entry about shopping at Walmart. I said in that post, "I had a creative solution to the problem which I might have to blog about" when talking about an inconsiderate shopper in my past life. If you find bodily functions and 3rd grade humor utterly rude and disgusting this post is not for you. Go here instead.

My little sister Jill and I had decided to risk our lives and go out shopping the day after Thanksgiving. We'd had each spent the day before stuffing our faces and unbuttoning our pants at two Thanksgiving dinners, one our family's and one at our respective inlaw's family's. The plan was to get up and move around the next day so we could unblock our colons.

My colon was union and was protesting working overtime with hot winded speeches. That's understated. Satan had taken up residence in my lower body and I had given him permission with that extra piece of pie drenched in whipped cream.

Jill...and rightly so...was becoming exasperated with me but I didn't see what I could do about the situation besides keep the windows down in the car. Holding it in? Could you hold in Satan? I didn't think so.

We made it to Kmart where they were having a sale on Gameboys. It took all my effort to keep things to myself and I failed in the CD aisle. Rushing away I see a teenaged girl wrinkle her nose and then scream, "Mom, not again!" It's nice to know you aren't alone.

We make our way through a few more stores. I'm clenching so hard that I'm walking funny. Poor Jill...she's a good soul for putting up with my abuse.

At the end of our trip we get to Big Lots. Xmas toy sales abound! The store wasn't especially crowded compared to everywhere else so we decided to take our time.

We'd stop with our cart in front of us to look at a toy. A woman with her own cart would walk up, move our cart about three feet while we were standing right next to it and put her own cart in it's place. She'd scoot her body over and stand shoulder to shoulder with us. The woman did this repeatedly as we moved about the store. You can't let other shoppers get at the good crap before you! Muttering, Jill walked off to get something leaving me with the cart and this insane woman.

I move to yet another toy aisle, stop, park and look. She follows and does the predictable. I stand next to her and continue looking at Moon Me Elmo. We are the only two shoppers in the entire area of that store and I felt like teaching her a lesson about personal space.

I unclench and I FART.

Smiling at her, I take my cart and leave her with it. Did she follow me? Nooooooo. The rest of the shopping trip is peaceful and insane woman free.

Normally I wouldn't think of being so crass. I'm not a pinky in the air proper type of girl, but I do try not to pass wind in public places!

Meh...this woman deserved it.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

A Very Special Episode of AMHW...Becky Explains Puberty

I've been bombarded on all sides with evidence of other people's puberty today. If I don't get it out of my system I will dream about it tonight and experiencing puberty once was plenty.

When I was 10 years old I noticed that my nipples were enlarged and sore. This upset me. I showed my Mom, panicked, because I had somehow contracted breast cancer. I didn't want to DIE! I don't know how my mom kept a straight face when she explained how breasts developed and that I was going to be sore for the next 6 years of my life. Beaming, I took my new information back to my room where I savored the thought of becoming a woman and finally getting that legendary Judy Blume period.

I get my first bra at age 12, a strip of 30 AA knit fabric with a bow in the middle. From 10 to 12 I don't grow anything except puffy nipples. I was 14 when I graduated to a small 32 A. I had started to develop least that is what I thought. My breasts got competitive with each other and the right side was winning the race. My left side got a runner's cramp and gave up. At 16 I graduated to a full A cup on one side and a wad of toilet paper on the left. I still had glimmers of hope. At age 18 I graduate high school wearing the same bra I bought at age 16, still lopsided. Hopes of developing the big as your head chests of my Mom and two older sisters dashed.

I develop breasts when I'm pregnant. I go from lopsided A's to lopsided D's. My husband likes this. When I'm done being pregnant and nursing I go back to perky lopsided A's. This is my preference. I just can't quite get the hang of waking up with my breast in my armpit.

Since I've been looking at boobs today on the boobiethon and wondering why I didn't get boobs like they did, I thought I'd post my own half naked Thursday photo, ala bored housewife. If I gots em right now, I'll flaunts em right now. But not later...shoo shoo.


Persistent bugger, ain't ya?

If puberty still confuses you, check out this stinkin link right here. This is NSFW and for educational purposes only. If you don't want to see, don't click.

Now I'm going to go watch HBO.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

And this one band 2

My little sister, in her comment on pt. 1 , has alluded to this next installment of band camp stories. Let's get it on...

Stop right now you perverts...incest is NOT best. Sheesh!

I have three sisters and a brother. I'm the fourth kid. Jill is the fifth, being born 22 months after my butt showed up, making her only a year behind me in school. I was planned. Jill was a surprise. I was breastfed longer than Jill. I'm also taller, have cuter feet and I'm fabulous conversationalist. For many reasons I was winning this little sibling rivalry until she made points in a big way...a HUGE way...this made her boss over me. She's my boss and I'm a SENIOR and she was only a junior. I'm sorry, I need a moment...

There, we can continue. When Drum Major tryouts were posted Jill decided on a lark she would go out for it. The Leader of the Band had decided that the band needed two drum majors instead of one. This meant more direction, better marching and a more distinct sound. Jill was only a sophomore, but she was already first chair in the saxophone section beating out two or three senior players. I knew she'd kick band geek ass and she did. She was made 2nd Drum Major for her junior year behind the senior that got 1st spot. A junior Drum Major? Oh the horrors!

So...Jill's boss. I hear this all day long. March here, double time there, about face biotch! I wanted to put itching powder in her dickey. (That ruffly thing around her neck you perverts.) Didn't she realize she wouldn't have even made it to band practice at the ungodly hour of 5:30 am if I didn't drive her there? I didn't even make her pay for gas!

Jill looked dazzling in the uniform. She was not made to wear the female equivalent which had a skirt and knee high white boots. That would have been a lil bit cold up the keister.

I'm the one that needed to cool down my keister. I was involved with band geek boyfriend and we were constantly groping and kissing and kissing and groping. The half capes that hung off one shoulder on the band uniforms hide a lot of sins sitting in the bleachers at the homecoming game.

For Jill's success in band her junior year she gets top honors and trophies for her skills as a Band Major, even beating out the Band Majors of larger schools. For my success in band my junior year I was awarded a pin that said "red hot lover". I wonder how I got that?

I guess there will just have to be a part 3...

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Blame it on the Rain

Today I drove 120 miles to a Walmart so I could be abused.

The purpose of driving that far wasn't to patronize a Walmart. My OB/GYN wanted to look at my tubal ligation incision scars. (You can't even tell they are there he did such a bang up job!) His office is a couple miles away from a large shopping complex including a Sam's Club and a Walmart. Since I was there I figured I'd do the grocery shopping.

Is there a reason that Walmart is a madhouse on a Tuesday at noon? That corner of Hell was packed full of people!

Wait...I know the reason. It was raining cats and dogs. Don't scoff! I worked too long as a grocery store cashier, from ages 16 to 20, and I got to know conspicuous consumer habits. Some long buried electrical circuit of instinct in the brain fires off when it storms, survival mode clicks on and the conspicuous consumer needs beer and oreos and Celine Dion CDs right NOW.

Fie on you if you are blocking the shelf that contains the one item that they came out in the rain for . In my case, I was pondering the differences in soy sauce when I got a nudge to the butt from the only other cart in the aisle. I look behind me. Woman nudges again. I continue my search for the cheapest soy sauce...woman nudges again. I turn around, look at the woman and say, "Quit that!" Woman glares. I was there first and had you waited another 1.5 seconds I would have made my selection and moved on. She must have gotten her La Choy and got the hell out of the store because if I had to meet up with her again in another aisle I would have had to take her down.

(I've had this problem before, the day after Thanksgiving a few years back, at a Big Lots. I had a creative solution to the problem which I might have to blog about but I couldn't utilize that solution today.)

Finally I wheel my 500 lb cart to a checkout. I'm chatting merrily away to the cashier but not getting any response. None, nada. Walmart cashiers aren't the most chatty folks, I can accept this, but this cashier seemed to be one of the happy variety. I couldn't figure it out! Until she spoke that is...she was deaf! She didn't hear a word and I realized that nothing I'd said was worth listening to anyway. This is the bain of housewifely existence. You flirt with grocery store employees because they are there. Yes ma'am that IS a big cucumber!

And to end my long distance trip to Walmart in the idiot honking behind me while I was waiting to pull out of the Walmart parking lot. He apparently couldn't understand that I was not risking my life so he could make his own right turn 1 second sooner. Had he nudged my new van I would have had to take him down too.

I know you folks were expecting another band camp story. As I learned today, patience is a virtue. I'll see what I can crank out tomorrow. Mwah!

Sunday, October 02, 2005

And this one band 1

I was fortunate enough to involve myself in one of the best extra curriculars in high school. My high school had an amazing marching band program led by one of the best music teachers in the state. The amount of respect I have for this man isn't matched by any other teacher I know. (No, I'm not including my husband...that's quite different!) The Leader of the Band retired last year.

Our band was disciplined with a big sound, award winning, and we had a lot of fun. We took a yearly trip at the end of October to California to compete, then onto San Francisco just for shits and giggles. This story happened my junior year.

I was dating another member of the band. He's still a good friend today. We were included in a group of friends and we all sort of took turns dating each other. It was my turn with this guy for the beginning of the school year including our band trip.

Our plushy charter busses crossed the bridge into San Fran. We were near to our destination when the Flag Instructor (I was a flag and she was my instructor) pointed out a bag lady on the sidewalk, complete with cart. Being naive and from Utah County, we really had never seen homelessness before. It was both fascinating and guilt inducing. My Flag Instructor told our bus to wave to the bag lady, so we did, with stupid Utah County grins on our innocent faces. Ms. Bag Lady courteously waved back with her middle finger.

We were let off the bus a couple blocks from the trolley station with instructions to ride the trolley to the pier where we'd be picked up later that evening. We had the entire city to wander and it was glorious! I took my boyfriend's hand and we made plans. We wanted to go to Ghiradelli and we wanted to see street performers on Pier 49.

When we reached the trolley we were shocked to see so many street people panhandling. I know now that they make big tax free bucks, but back when I was 17 it was disheartening. We felt helpless, especially for the bum sleeping on the sidewalk, brownbag in hand. We had all gingerly stepped over him to get into the trolley line. A moral dilemma, should we leave the bum money so he'd have something to wake up to? (It didn't enter our heads that our money would more than likely buy a liquid lunch.) We decided not to because the nanosecond we'd mentioned "money" and "bum" out loud we were surrounded by panhandlers like flies on meat. We couldn't get on that trolley fast enough and felt bad for the friends that had to wait for the next trolley.

My boyfriend and I kissed and groped at Ghiradelli. We kissed and groped at Ripley's. We kissed and groped at Taco Bell. We saw the infamous bush man of San Francisco and got the bejeezus scared out of us when he lunged between his bushes with a screech. This led to more kissing and more groping. We kissed and groped when we looked at the sea lions off the pier, who themselves were kissing and groping. San Francisco is very romantic.

As dark was falling our plushy chartered busses pulled up exactly where they said they'd be. The band boarded, some of us happy about the day, others a bit depressed it was over. Our left behind trolley friends boarded like Tigger, bouncing and talking loudly with great fervor. Those left behind, who had also stepped over the bum, had witnessed the coroner's van come and pick him up off the sidewalk. Coroner's van! We'd walked over a dead guy! OH MY GOD!

We wondered, had we left money for the bum, would the other panhandlers who knew he was deceased steal from him? How long had he laid there anyway? Did he smell and we didn't notice? Who reported him? Coroners are gross!

It was all too deep for our underdeveloped teenaged brains. Kissing and groping, we understood that.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

I'm Becky and I'm a housewife.

I'm playing Literati. I so kick ass. Xi and xu are acceptable and high point words when used right, just so you know. I just scored 34 points off of "aa", "ax" and "xi"

The boys are cleaning their rooms. Somehow I have to get enough of their junk off the floor to be able to walk in and change their sheets. My oldest is on the verge of 12. This means that he has to keep his room clean more often because sheet washing becomes a priority until he moves out. So does sock washing. In my house,de Nile is a river in Egypt.

Then, after hours of cleaning 9' x 12' bedrooms, they have to be vacuumed. The dirt in Bendover is white. It's poor for a garden but it allows me to buy my boys white sneakers with which they track in all this white dirt. Why doesn't the white dirt show on their sneakers but it shows on my beige carpeting? Why the hell did we buy a house with beige carpeting anyway?

If my opponent doesn't take my spot, I'm going to make a huge word over two 2w spots. Good, they didn't. "Prattle" (taking all my letters, booyah!) and "alar". I kick ass. 67 points.

My uncouth neighbor had a for sale sign on his property until a couple days ago. I wonder if it's sold? He listed it way below value and the for sale sign wasn't up very long. Perhaps he's a budgeting genius as well as a keeper of the peace? I will never know. That house keeps getting sold and bought and bought and sold. I should start a betting pool on the possible new neighbors.

The baby is sleeping. My six year old is at the closest thing to an altar in my house, the TV, worshipping SpongeBob SquarePants. Justin and the oldest are out at the movies. I won my Literati game. I kick ass.

Time to leave you all in favor of a long bath. Get that image out of your heads you perverts.

Aa is a type of lava.

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