Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Choices Choices

I should be doing yardwork.

I should be making out bills.

I should be taking costume photos.

I should be cleaning out my bathtub.

I should be siphoning fish poop out of my fish tank.

I should be loading the dishwasher.

I think I'll go eat ice cream.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

A little dab'll do ya.

I see myself as a thrifty individual. When you pair up this quality with creativity often the results far outweigh the effort.

Often, but not always.

I came across a recipe for sugaring. You've seen the stuff on TV. It's that green goo that an Australian housewife invented so she could rip all her daughter's body hair off. She's every housewife's hero.

Sometimes I'm interested in removing my body hair but my frugal little brain will not let me pay thirty bucks for a little tub of green sugar, lemon juice and honey. Finding a recipe online is a delightful experience and I can make it any color I desire!

My first mistake is attempting hair removal at one in the morning. Insomnia isn't just a hobby, it's a lifestyle. While my family sleeps I play Betty Crocker, stirring together sugar, lemon juice, honey and a little high alcohol content vanilla for flavor. The directions tell me to put this concoction in the microwave for two to three minutes. I push the 2 and wait.

Mistake number two. Nowhere on the recipe did it say to use a bowl with really high sides. I have grainy melted sugar all over my microwave. The microwave tray is removed, I spoon what's left in the bowl into a bigger bowl, and zap it for another minute since it's still quite grainy.

Yup, the extra minute was mistake number three. It's not grainy anymore but it remains the temperature of lava for the next hour. I have two blisters on my fingertips to prove this. By the way, the added vanilla makes putting your blistering fingers in your mouth very tasty. "The Girl Next Door" is on HBO...a fine cooling movie.

Movie ends. My homemade goo still insanely hot when I spread the first dollop on my man-beasty shin. If I can't rip offending hairs away I'll vaporize them. You cannot grow hairs if you've burnt off your skin. Bonus!

The rip is an experience I could have done without. You people who get bikini waxes? You are insane. Seeing my hair on the strip relieves the sting somewhat.

The rip also leaves random stray hairs. I remain man-beasty but only to a lesser degree. By 3:30 AM I'm only half done. Screw it...I'm going to bed.

Mistake four. I left my little spatula in my sugaring overnight. It's stuck. I can't get my spatula out of the sugaring yet I have a leg-full of slippery random stray hairs. Murphy...your laws...damn you.

Why can't I just be hairy like God intended? I am woman, hear me roar...literally.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Thou shalt not use terrycloth in vain.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of anwering my door in my bright yellow terrycloth bathrobe to some Jehovah's Witnesses.

I like missionaries. I think doing that kind of work be blunt...gonads. If it's cold I offer them hot chocolate. If it's hot I offer them ice water. I'm not interested in listening to the lesson but I enjoy being friendly. Most missionaries, if they aren't crazily zealous, are happy to have a little fellowship if that's the only thing I'm open to.

The knockers at my door are a husband and wife team in their late 60's. This earns extra points from me. If I were in my late 60's I know I definitely wouldn't want to be proselytizing in the middle of nowhere Nevada. Then again, where do you find salt of the earth folk? On the salt flats, duh!

The JW's didn't stay more than four minutes because my yellow bathrobe is hideous. I now have four Watchtowers waiting to be read. Watchtowers are fascinating! The whys and hows of what people believe is so interesting to me. Plus, they have pretty pictures. Too bad they don't come with sticks of gum.

This isn't the first time I've greeted Jehovah's Witnesses in a state of undress. When my oldest was four or five he opened the door to a JW while I was stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. My son had been told (read "screeched at") to wait to open the door but his abilities aren't such that he can heed a suggestion like that until after processing it for five minutes. He throws the door open which reveals a direct view of the hallway to my bathroom.

Seeing my half nekkid and shower wet state, this JW blushed, stammered and ran away. I'm unsure of what exactly scared him off. I know it wasn't my smell. The towel was white, not hideous yellow. I didn't even get a Watchtower.

I wonder if my retired JW's will be back. I hate possibly breaking their hearts. I simply can't become a JW. Halloween fills my soul all year round! A life without Halloween, for me, is like a life without ever having an orgasm. You can live a swell life without having orgasms but living is so much nicer with them!

JW's are allowed to have orgasms right?

Sheesh, I'm kidding!

I don't think I'll use the orgasm analogy if they do come back. I'll offer them some Koolaid though.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Little ditty 'bout Jack and Diane

To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.
~Margaret Fairless Barber, The Roadmender

There are places I remember all my life
Though some have changed
~The Beatles

Have you ever used someone without them knowing? I'm using someone mercilessly and he has no clue. I don't think he'd mind.

Just recently I came across the online profile of my first high school boyfriend. On my 100th post, #97 out of the 100 things about me, I state that I still have a lot of admiration for anyone I ever dated except for one person. Just to clarify, this isn't the boyfriend with the unibrow and the strange looking penis.

Reading about him now, fifteen years after first knew him, makes one think Deep Jack Handy type thoughts.

If he knew me today would he see a person that's progressed as much as my potential would allow?

Don't get me wrong, this isn't romance oriented. It's not even nostalgia. I'm using him as a self inspection barometer. He's more symbol than anything else.

When I look into myself I'm not disappointed. I like my life. I am thankful for my talents. I'm proud of my knowledge and skills. I've developed, what I think, are decent morals and principles. I've stayed away from more strange looking penises.


Am I as proud of my flaws? Am I so quick to spout those off as I am my successes? Do I justify and defend where it's not warranted? And..have I whined enough fer ya? Should I type "strange looking penis" again?

This post has been building in my head since the creepy email post. It doesn't help that I recently spied my first boyfriend's brother out of my sister's kitchen window, playing catch in his inlaws backyard over Easter weekend.

I broke up with this nice young man after dating him more than a year. I saw our paths going different directions. I knew I needed more experiences. I hurt him.

I wonder if his nose is itching right about now.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006


...for our favorite tart has given birth! (Insert "Rosemary's Baby" score here.)

Oh Katie Holmes, you are mother! I can't wait until Tom publishes your book on parenting tips in three years.

Yahoo news reports that this is the most celebrity baby frenzied we've been since the birth of Desi Arnaz Jr...that is until we get to the BradGelina spawn. I'm fully expecting the three wisemen to show up with Prada handbags and shoes when Angelina pops her cork.

Tom Cruise has joked about eating the placenta. In my internet surfings I've joked about Tom Cruise eating the placenta...

Placenta, the other other white meat.
Placenta, it's whats for dinner.
Happiness is a warm placenta.
Placenta does a body good.

What got me is that they interrupted my local news to announce the birth of Suri Holmes. Wha? Whatever happened to sending out birth announcements with fuzzy lil duckies printed on them?

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Good to the last drop.

I have so many thoughts about my visit into Utah County, aka Happy Valley, that pooling them together to present my readers and other hangers on with something coherent is difficult. I want to pour written concrete and all I'm getting in verbal green jello.

Unfortunately I don't have a fart story to share this time. I did try very hard to do what was necessary to inspire a good fart story to but no avail. I grabbed my all of my sister's posteriors on Easter Sunday though. We are so close that way.

I think I can sum up my visit into Happy Valley with this little story.

On our way out of the Valley we stopped by an Orem chain restaurant to have lunch. Next to our table were seated four middle aged women. They were single-mindedly involved in discussing all the gossip going on in their ward. (Ward = a mormon congregation.) The talk wasn't outright venemous, as that would have been rude, but it was terribly catty. In between discussing whose grandson was going on a mission and whose baby was being blessed next Sunday there was talk of whose baby's parents weren't married and who was leaving the church because of adultery. Heads were constantly shaking in wonderment over the behavior of some people!

Thankfully having my children with me curbed temptation. I so wanted to start a loud enough to overhear conversation about anal sex and coffee enemas. Shocking them into silence would have been a welcome blessing (and the topic of their next chain restaurant lunch date, I'm sure.)

Maybe next time.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Wakie wakie, eggs and bakie.

Merry happy spring based holiday to everyone to whom it applies.

I'm headed into Utah County this weekend with the fam-damn-ily. There are plans at some point to make out with Justin in a movie theater. Get those Alanis Morrisette images out of your heads you perverts.

Here, have an egg.


Ahhhhh the fifteenth. I didn't leave my readers and other hangers on, well, hanging...It's Bestest Housewifely Doodad time!

Before we purchased our fabulous minivan we had a ten year old Mercury Sable. It was a reliable automobile up until the last year we owned it when it started burning carbon in the exhaust. A fairly normal problem with older cars which will ruin your performance and gas mileage.

It was during our 120 mile drive home from Salt Lake City that it became apparent that we had a chunk of carbon logged in the car's outty thingamabob. We couldn't get it to go above 55mph.

We turn around and head back to the city. It's apparent that we will need lodging for the night so we can get our car fixed in the morning.

Did all the frozen groceries in our trunk melt overnight? No! Thanks to April's Bestest Housewifely Doodad!

The canvas freezer tote!

This surprisingly roomy canvas bag is lined with some kind of NASA invented material that keeps your frozen things frozen for up to five hours. When you fill it with 12 buckets of hotel ice, I can personally vouch that it keeps things quite solidly frozen overnight! (Especially when you have a turkey and ice cream in there.)

It makes a great cooler...easy to pack over your shoulder for hikes and picnics. It wipes out nicely with a damp cloth. Great to smack your kids with when they won't stop throwing rocks at ducks swimming in the picnic area's pond. I'm fairly sure you could take it on planes and trains besides automobiles.

I like this doodad so much that I've got two! (Should I get one more? One to beat each kid with?) Each was purchased for around 15 bucks at Sam's Club. Mine has outside pockets!

Our groceries kept themselves frozen even though there was no open for business shop in SLC that would fix a muffler on a Sunday. They'll fix everything else but not anything to do with an exhaust system. Bastards. We decided to slow poke home and we blew out the carbon around mile 50. Putt putt putt putt putt ZOOM!

Thank you canvas freezer bag. I like you, I really like you.

Why Adam and Eve started out nekkid.

I am in the middle of much laundry.

I've been searching for a good bible verse to describe doing laundry...something to open this post with along the lines of "plagues" and "scourges", but I've got nada. I did google up a bunch of good bible verses against masturbation though. Masturbation and laundry apparently are related subjects.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

I've been avoiding my blog.

There have been two factors for this. One I won't mention but the other I will.

I had a reader (though he wasn't a hanger on as far as I know) who is located near me. I am unsure of how he reached my blog but he perused my pages and moved onto my costume site. I know this because I have a sitemeter there. More importantly he sent me an email.

This person is apparently into some kind of real estate, had recognized my fence in one of the costume photos in my gallery and subsequenly compromised my privacy and security by offering to "talk" about my house.


I got to thinking. Do I reveal too much when I traipse about the internet?

Because sometimes I'm one of the follower bees I have linked to Dooce on my blogroll. Dooce says, and I'll paraphrase, that a blogger should decide on what they are comfortable writing (or showing) on the internets on just how comfortable they are about who knows about and sees your junk. If you are afraid of fallout from crabby Aunt March about what you think of her, don't write all your thoughts abour her on your blog, capiche? She won't leave you the house in her will. If you do leave your thoughts, do it responsibly and stand by what you wrote.

Am I afraid of fallout? A bit I guess. My creeped out feeling lost out to an indignance over this man's lack of tact and my own bias. I dislike real estate agents. I've never had a good experience with one. (If you are a real estate agent, feel free to sway me...let's not discuss my fence though.)

I've decided not to change anything, come in more often, and stand by my junk.

A consequence of avoiding my blog is that I've not taken the time to read much of what is on my blogroll and/or leave comments. I need to update the blogroll to include many other blogs that I enjoy. I apologize for this as I feel it is a profoundly inconsiderate thing to do.


Tuesday, April 11, 2006


I spent most of yesterday performing various wearisome scans to rid my computer of an annoying trojan virus.

This particular trojan set up shop right in my IE and proceeded to reroute my homepage to a site offering to sell me software to rid myself of trojans. Nice. It didn't stop there...oh also deluged me with popups telling me just how infected my computer was with all that gooey spyware. Just rub my nose in it why dontcha.

Norton's only killed the offending files for so long. When I restarted my computer from scanning in safe mode the trojan was back like so many reproducing zombies. Ad-aware only kept it at bay for a few terrifying moments much like wondering if the house window that all the zombies are pressing against will hold.

Google is a wonderful tool. Some handy googling and I was armed with all the ammunition needed to behead all the zombie trojan viruses in my computer for free. Kaboom! Die! Die! Die!

It only took me six hours. Don't worry. I did manage to get in a pee break.

Monday, April 10, 2006


Blankety blank blank virus blank blank trojan blankety blankety Norton's blank blank nvctl.exe!

May a thousand llamas lift their legs and pee on the godblasted idiot that invented this constipating roadblock of malware.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Springtime...for Hitler...and Germany!

Despite the on and off grey skies lately, it's finally SPRING!

...and this means spring cleaning. Airing out a house containing a winter's worth of winter smells isn't half bad. It's not half good either.

While reorganizing parts of my kitchen today, I came upon my husband's college ID stuffed in the head portion of my three piece pig shaped canister set. During that time in our lives, Justin was so derned handsome.

We were dirt poor. We could not afford shaving cream and a razor, as is evidenced by the ID mugshot. Justin spent several years at Southern Utah University doing a fine Grizzly Adams impression.

That was A-ok with me. Beards are sexy. The only time Justin grows a beard now is during the summer months when he doesn't have to teach school. I'd live all summer in his beard if he'd let me.

What is good for the goose isn't good for the gander, however. Justin makes me shave any beard I grow.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

MMM ohhhhh yessss ohhhhhh mmmmmm yes yes YES YES! PLINKO!


Unfortunately I am not the housewife you saw on that one tabloid news program. I cannot get pregnant anymore and despite the boob ad on the sidebar and
this photo HERE, most would consider me flatchested. I apologize for my physicality right up front.

However, I'll take web traffic where I can get it.

Stick around for a while. I can be titilating! For example, you may want to read the story of
how I lost my virginity. This story, I swear, is my ticket to fame and did not require silicone or custom made brassieres. Enjoy.

Now, onto the regular post.

Update inserted Nov 22, 2008


Bob Barker is a sexy manbeast.

I know we'd get along grandly. We are both spayed or neutered.

Bob, come on down...

Monday, April 03, 2006


Ever eat anything so mind numbingly delicious that every morsel proves there is a God? That you know that God considers you only one step away from becoming the Pope or Britney Spears?

My damned lucky husband had that experience this weekend with a donut.

He's damned lucky that I didn't eat his donut first. He got the privilege of decimating a chocolate bar donut which, upon biting into it, revealed a perfectly sweetened, fluffy vanilla cream center.

Justin sat wide-eyed for an hour after eating this bit of divinity. A wave of trembling would radiate out from his gut area causing him to make soft satisfied mewling noises.

There was a second donut of the same variety in the box. I did not attempt to eat it. Justifiable homocide. I won't risk my life, even for the loveliest confection ever confected.

I did get a bite though.

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