Tuesday, October 31, 2006

One Bad Apple

Happy Halloween!
Let's skip the candy, and the bullsquat and I'll just offer you a Halloween razor blade straight up.
Trick or treat, smell my feet!
The quotes in my header?
Roll roll roll in ze hay - Young Frankenstein
With you, never a quickie, always a longie - Love at First Bite

Monday, October 30, 2006

Short post, shorter attention span.

Alright, alright, I'm gonna write a post...ok? Fine!

Should I be allowing my toddler to watch Wonderpets on Nick Jr? That's what I thought...it is rather nauseating. At least if we watch The Price is Right he'll learn numbers. He's sitting right in the middle of the floor, eyes glued, bowl of dry cereal to his side. It's never too early to teach Bob worship.

Tomorrow is Halloween right? Did you buy the good candy or did you cheap out? I have dum dums. The good candy is in my bedroom where it will only be eaten by me and my husband. I think it's important to have ethics when it comes to mini twix bars.

I have to get sewing. There are things that need to be sewn onto other things.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Soldier of Love

How does Weird Al know what I do in my spare time? Watch this.

This video excites me. It's not Weird Al doin' it to me this time, even though he does look particularly sexy pushing a lawn mower. This time my heart is all a-flutter over the white 'n nerdy dirty dance moves of...

Donny Osmond!

Full of testosteroney Utah goodness.

You know how I know that Donny Osmond is sexy? I know this because even my gay older sister paid homage to the man. She slept nightly on a Donny Osmond pillow case. She laid her face over his graven image and drooled. But then, when you consider what he looks like in the photo above, you gotta give my sister a little leeway.

I searched Ebay for the pillow case in question but could not find an auction for one. If I had I would have gotten myself a nice little present for my upcoming birthday. Sigh...

I own purple socks too Donny! I'm from Utah County! Donny! I'M A LITTLE BIT ROCK 'N ROLL!

Fine Donny. Stay with Weird Al and your wife of 28 years. See if I care.

Oh Donny Osmond, you broadway missionary bowhunk! Why am I so inexplicably drawn? Oh, that's right...It's because both of our names end in Y.


Monday, October 23, 2006

The Thunder Rolls

I had a lovely phone call this morning from an old highschool boyfriend. We had to kvetch about a mutual acquaintance. It was very nice catching up and has improved my day immensely.

It must be highschool oldhome week because I've also just been contacted by another old date of mine. He wasn't a boyfriend, just a pal. At one point we ended up in bed together in a motel room in Cedar City Logan, UT whilst attending an FFA convention. (edited, wrong town, wrong year. me still absent minded.)

(It was all very innocent I swear! I was wearing flannel jammies! We were watching HBO! I never touched any of his bits in any way, shape or form! You don't believe me! Honestly, FFA trips weren't like band trips...uh much.)

(At one point my FFA pal attempted to touch my little sister's bits. She was not amused.)

I understand the question that the second paragraph in this post raised wasn't if my FFA convention experiences were innocent, but what the heckfire is FFA?

I was a very active member of the Future Farmers of America, even to the point of being a club officer for two years. I raised pigs but I didn't own any shitkickers. I think I was the only member in Utah state who admitted to not knowing the Boot'n Scoot'n Boogie. Garth Brooks did not hold me enthralled nearly as much as Robert Smith. I had cut off my mullet. Lord knows how I ended up in Future Farmer's...but the experience was completely awesome. It was a great club.

No, I am not posting the photo of me during my mullet years (ages 10-11). Nor am I posting a photo of myself during my perm years (ages 13-14). You will have to satisfy yourself with this photo of me during my highschool years in all my blue corduroy FFA jacketed glory. Enjoy.

Saturday, October 21, 2006


Oh looky! Unlike yesterday morning, the little blogger post writing window actually showed up on my screen. What this means is that I can write a nice little post for all you readers and hangers on.

I meant to write about pot yesterday. You know, wacky weed, reefer, ganja, 420, jive sticks! Day late and a dollar short around Blogger.

I'm not one to partake in the old cannibis...I've never had an urge to partake in anything that comes in a baggie except goldfish crackers. I've said before that I wouldn't know where to buy such a thing. I barely know where to buy wine in a box.

On Nov. 7th that might change.

As it's worded in the ever so informative sample ballot I was mailed last week, I get to use the hanging chad-less electronic voting machine and vote YES or NO to persons over the age of 21 legally possessing and using up to one ounce of marijuana. Not just for medical reasons, but for any dern reason you want to use the stuff. I'm also voting on licensing marijuana retailers and wholesalers, taxing mary jane up the wazoo and imposing stricter penalties on driving under the influence.

Will they have to invent a breathalizer to measure how high you are?

If the majority votes yes then my town (and the other Utah border gambling armpit down in southern Nevada) is going to boom. Kaboom! Mushroom cloud! Not peyote...pot. I don't know where to buy peyote either. Utahns come to my town to sin and adding just one more sinful activity will ice the cake.

I didn't read in my ballot where it states in which locations you can use pot. I personally dislike it when I go to the casino from time to time and end up with Hackie McHackerson sitting next to me holding their lit cigarrette in my personal space. Will I have the ability to drive home safely if Doobie McDooberson holds their lit joint downwind?

Also on my ballot are two questions limiting smoking in public places. One limits smoking to just casinos and bars. The other says no to smoking in the gaming areas of casinos but you can still smoke in bars. I admit that when I moved to Nevada from Utah it threw me off to be in a McDonalds sitting next to someone smoking. I think limiting smoking in casinos is a bit silly...but then again would it still be silly if marijuana is legalized?

The marijuana question was shot down in 2002. That's when there was still a little hope in the democratic process and our government. Who knows how the hopeless masses are going to vote now. A little pot in Nevada may start a tidal wave of checks and balances across the US.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

No gold stars...

What is wrong with these children?

CBC News, Manitoba:

A 14-year-old Winnipeg boy suspects young bullies targeted his disability when they trapped him in a playground shed and set it ablaze on Saturday...

Apparently these kids can't get much more than a warning and counseling because of a law that states that you can't prosecute children under 12. The law also states that it works to make parents, or other responsible family members, accountable to the victims of their children's crimes.

Has anyone heard of any follow up stories about this? Any statements from the fire happy kid's parents?

I surely hope that the parents of the zippo clan aren't fighting their responsibility in this. If they are they need sterilization because, god help us, stupid breeds.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Have a happy period...my butt...

Dear Mother Nature,

I am dissatisfied with the job you are doing.

I understand that you have very sound reasoning for causing a woman of childbearing age to bleed monthly, but why didn't you make the process of shedding one's uterine lining more simple?

My menstrual cramps are a bitch kitty and it's all your fault. Damn you.

I'm not feeling April fresh and it's all your fault. Damn you.

I have a three juicy pimples on my chin. Damn you.

My husband won't buy my tampons. Damn you!

All I want, Mother Nature, is to experience menses in a way that makes me feel more like a pretty pretty princess and less like a screaming undead Sam Kinison. Really, is that too much to ask?

I try to do my part Mother Nature. I don't litter. I don't use ozone destroying hairspray. I don't shoot at little birdies with BB guns. Give a little back!

Thank you for your time and consideration,

The Absent Minded Crampy Housewife

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

You Suck.

For the last sixteen months I was unaware of the miracle that had been taking place in my home.

You could argue that because my baby is sixteen months old that he is the miracle. He's cute and stuff but that is not what I'm referring to. Besides, do miracles blow out poopy diapers first thing in the morning because the previous night you fed the miracle grapes, apple juice and ham? That's what I thought.

What has me in awe of a higher power is the realization that for the entirety of my baby's life I've only purchased one package of two pacifiers...and that we've not had to replace them until now. This last couple days we've lost one binky and he bit the bulb off the other.

Do you know of any other baby that hasn't lost over two hundred binkies if they were the kind of baby that needed to use one? Me either up until now.

I wouldn't classify my baby as a binkie abuser. He's not going to get the binky DTs. He just likes to have one when he's put down in his crib for a nap or for the night. During the day he's perfectly happy without one. He'll play with them but doesn't use them for comfort like at night-night boo-boo time.

Now my child is binky-less. I'm wondering if I should replace the binkies or not.

I used the same type of binky with my second baby because he had a high palette and other binkies didn't fit. I wrote the binky company and told them how much I appreciated their design, which was unique at the time. They sent me three packages of twin pack binkies back as a thank you...a half dozen fresh binkies that were lost within hours.

You could ask, "Hey Absent Minded Housewife, why didn't you use one of them pin on binky leashes?" Does my self imposed title say nothing about me? Of course I didn't use one. That would have made some sort of sense.

Thank you Lord for watching over the binkies while they served their time in my home. They were well used and loyal binkies.

There is still hope that we may find the remaining binky. I'll let you know.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Air Biscuits

Two of my Gert Jonnys died overnight. RIP Gert Jonnys one and two. May you shoop shoop in fishy heaven. You will be missed by Gert Jonnys three and four, up until feeding time.


It's that time of the month again...

No, It's not tampon time. It's Bestest Housewifely Doodad time!

When a person thinks of housewifery, it's not uncommon that they imagine the perpetually pleasant face of Betty Crocker. Betty whips up delicious semi-home cooked meals in under thirty minutes without ruining her manicure. Betty never has menstrual cramps.

Betty bakes Bisquick biscuits. Betty uses October's Bestest Housewifely Doodad.

The Pastry Mixer!

I made the mistake of searching for an image of this item under the name "biscuit cutter". Apparently this is not a biscuit cutter because biscuit cutters look like cookie cutters and are used to actually cut out the biscuits from the rolled dough. Fine. When I make biscuits I cut them out with a wide glass. I don't need one of them newfangled biscuit cutters!

The Pastry Mixer is a handy little tool for all of us Betty Crocker crampless wannabes. Using it makes mixing any cold dough an easy chore. I use it to mix not just biscuits, but pie dough, cookie dough, meatloaf ooze, chicken salad, tuna salad, egg salad....

I hear you say, "but I do all of that in my food processor!" That's fine and dandy...but whatever will you do when your power goes out, huh huh? Not to mention that the pastry cutter takes less room in the dishwasher when your power comes back on.

A Pastry Mixer costs three or four dollars. You should be able to find them at Wallyworld but you never know.

Don't use Bisquick to make biscuits though...bleh...or pancakes either. (Don't you even dare mention biscuits in a can...blasphemer!) Bisquick could be proven to relieve menstrual cramps and I'd still use this biscuit recipe:

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Sift together in mixing bowl:

3 and 1/2 cups of flour
1 tsp salt
4 tsps baking powder
2 Tbs sugar
1 tsp baking soda

Cut in until crumbly:
10 Tbs of margarine or butter. (Stick margarine is much better than tub)

Cut in until just moist:
1 and 1/2 cups of buttermilk.

This dough should be handled lightly. Turn onto floured board. Knead gently until dough holds it's shape. Roll to a 1/2 inch thickness and then cut the rounds. Bake 10 to 12 minutes on lightly greased cookie sheet.

This recipe truly only takes minutes to put together. My husband is so happy on biscuit night that he considers going to the store to buy my tampons. He's never actually made it to the store but he's considered it.

In conclusion: Betty Crocker a robot. Pastry Mixer is not a biscuit cutter. Bisquick is evil.

Thank you Pastry Mixer, I like you, I really like you.

Friday, October 13, 2006


Is everyone in blogland just as ass draggy as I've been this week? Blehhhhh.

Oooooh, I forgot I have hot coffee. Be right back.

In between politics, Dancing with the Stars and the weather, I think everyone is feeling a bit meh.

On the upside, I only paid $67 dollars for a Tickle Me Elmo on Ebay. Elmo is never ass-draggy.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Genetic Valtrex

My husband and I are particularly frustrated with certain aspects of parenting lately. When you consider the consequences of the sexual act after the fact...sometimes you think you'd rather choose herpes than conception.

I have a large genital wart with his own bedroom.

Hopefully, unlike genital warts or herpes, this too shall pass.

P.S. Do NOT go googling for an image to illustrate your post using the search term "herpes" or "genital warts". Trust me on this.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Why I'm Super Costume Goddess ...

...because I just explained to a person how to do Kiss makeup on a horse.

Giddyap Gene Simmons!

Friday, October 06, 2006


When I opened the door to my van this morning, so I could take my kid to school, I was greeted a thick wave of french fry scented van air. At that moment I thought it would be interesting to write about the smells of motherhood for my readers and other hangers on to enjoy.

Two seconds later I realized that writing about the smell of Desitin would be as dull as..well...powder. How many smelly tuna noodle casserole jokes can a person make in one post? One...one smelly tuna noodle casserole joke.

My 7 year old son came innocently to my rescue. He told me this morning, after the french fry van air had dissipated somewhat, this little endearment:

"Mom, I wish you would never get old."

Son, I wish that too but that's just not the way things work around here. He furthered this idea with:

"Eating makes you get old."

I honestly don't know how he made this leap. I haven't made any tuna noodle casseroles lately. (Two!)

I asked him, "Should I stop eating?"

He replied with a short no.

I asked him, "What would happen if I stopped eating so I wouldn't get old?"

"You'd DIE!"

Aging problem solved. French fry van air still lingering.


I made it onto 25 peeps. Keep me on and click this stinkin' link right HERE! (Or the one in my sidebar. I'm not picky.)

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, JOLENE!

I think it was the Christmas that I was 8 or 9 that my little sister and I were each given our own portable record players. The players were housed in a suitcase made of cardboard with a print on the front of a generic male and a generic female country western singers forever declaring that they are islands in the stream.

What got played most on our rhinestone portables was my mom's small record collection and my parent's stack of country western 45's. (I grew up on a horse farm...you can't expect any Jimi Hendrix LPs.) I was reared in lyrics bemoaning cheatin' spouses and reminiscing about a good dog.

Happening upon a YouTube video featuring Dolly Parton and Boy George recently gave me a hankerin' to power up Limewire and steal me some of them old songs so I can listen to them again. It took quite a bit of searching. Apparently my parent's taste in music isn't popular with the song stealing internet republic.

Mom had a couple Herb Alpert LPs. I remember looking at the cover of this album and wondering if that was really whipped cream or was it lots of soap. It was a very very dirty image in any case. She warn't wearing no underpants!

One of the albums had a recording of the Limbo song. We wore that one out. I think that one song prepared me for marriage.

I looked and looked at this album cover as a kid. The concentric rings made Johnny look meaner than hell.

It took courage just to remove the vinyl out of the sleeve. I wonder now if I should have played this record backwards.

Oh Mom....please forgive us for using up and spitting out your one Elvis LP! You could actually HEAR his pelvis singing directly to you....sigh....

My mom's album is nowhere near this pristine. I drew eyelashes on Elvis. It's covered in masking tape. I want an ascot.

My absolute favorite record in the bunch was a Dolly Parton 45 with a lovely version of "Light of a Clear Blue Morning" on the A side. For the life of me I cannot remember what is on the B side. This 45 was perfect to lip sync to. It started out slow and ballad-y and progressed to a beat you could really jiggle your fake jugs to. I won one or two lip sync contests doing just that, dressed in calico and a bad blonde wig. It takes a lot of rigging to keep your fake boobs from falling out of your costume when you are jiggling them that much.

Back to Limewire. I must download some Loretta Lynn.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Generic Post Title

The writing is coming awfully slow this morning.


Yesterday evening I was asked about this latest rash of school shootings and how I felt about that as my husband is a teacher. I didn't know how to answer such a question. Uh yeah, I hope my husband doesn't ever get shot at work because that would be especially crappy at this point in my life?

When Justin and I were first married he was in the National Guard. He's been out since 1995. If I had to choose between my husband being in the Guard and my husband being a teacher...I'm choosing teaching.


Congressman Foley is a grade A asshat. I wonder if he has a Myspace account?


My husband and I were unwillingly nominated for leadership positions in our HOA. My husband received one vote and I received none. I'm so grateful that I'm unpopular in the neighborhood. The last thing I need to think about is how to solve parking disputes between my neighbors.


Almost 13 year old boy children smell funny.

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