Wednesday, May 30, 2007


This is Kenny.

At least I've named him Kenny. I have no idea who this kid is. These wallets fell out of one of the sewing books I bought at a secondhand store.

From the looks of things, Kenny was dressed for his kindergarten photo in the outfit his mother made him. The shirt more than likely came from Sears and the haircolor more than likely came from the Mailman.

I apologize, that wasn't nice! It's just so fun to make up stories about Kenny. Everytime I open my secondhand sewing book I'm taken away with what Kenny might be up to. I'm guessing that our young suit wearer would be 35 to 40 about now...and that's enough life to take guesses on.

Kenny, high bidder for The Partridge Family bus. He plans to reupholster.
Kenny, made it huge in computers and fru-fru gay porn. Boas!
Kenny, father to twelve children and several illegitimate sheep. Howdy.
Kenny, collector of all things Hello Kitty and Star Trek Voyager.
Kenny, Heaven's Gate survivor. No money for Nikes.
Kenny, plumber voted with the most bitchin' tool belt. Nice wrench.

There is a chance, a very slight chance, that one of you out there on the interwebs might recognize Kenny...or be I would like to justify this post as being all in good fun.

Gimme a Kenny story. I might give prizes.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

"F" is for "Fabulous"

Today, while gathering all the junkmail from our post office box, my high school teacher husband was verbally accosted by a parent of one of the students he failed.

School let out for the year the previous Friday. Grades are final. No, he's not going to be back in the classroom later today, or this week, or this month. My teacher husband is going to grow a beard, wear jeans, fart when he pleases and enjoy not using the phrase, "Write your report in your own words."

This student failed by excelling in doing as little as possible. This student's parent was trying his darndest to lay as many excuses for this as he thought would stick onto my husband.

Justin has experienced these type of parents before and he deflected this particular parent easily. He told him to be thinking of a scholastic strategy for the next school year and he'd be happy to work with everyone then. Thrilled, estatic, rapturous!

What is mindblowing to me is that this parent expected my husband to care more for educating his child than he did. This parent was concerned, but not concerned enough to look at his son's homework, make sure it was handed in, see to it that his kid showed up before or after school for additional instruction and ensure that his kid was not up all night playing X-box so he wouldn't feel like sleeping in class. Because his kid failed he has to shell out $200 a class for summer school, and dammit that's expensive.

My husband loves teaching. HE LOVES TEACHING...but, he's not going to pass your lazy kid unless your kid shows a little iniative. He's not going to make up for equally lazy parenting. He's not going to stack the deck in your kid's favor if the kid refuses to play cards in the first place.

Here, have a cookie.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Because torturing kittens is an entertaining pasttime.

Have a good weekend folkies.

Edited post (6/13/2007)

Here is the link to KITTEN CANNON! It's the best little game on the internets.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Step right up

Is there ever a day filled with so much potential as the last day of school?

Besides the heady anticipation of carefree homework-less days, there is a profound giddiness to be had from:

Popsicles, the banana ones especially.
Lawn sprinklers.
Enough watermelon to render your intestines useless.
The 24 hour a day wearing of swimwear.
Cartoons, cartoons, cartoons, cartoons, cartoons.
Peeing in the pool.

All this anticipation is coming to an extra pointy head today because the CARNIVAL! is in town.

Yeah, guess where my kids think I'm taking them later? They are delusional.

What is bad about the CARNIVAL! being in town is that it can be easily seen from my front yard. Carnies are using their come hither glow to tempt my children into paying too much for twirly rides that only end up making them feel nauseated. Sneaky bastards.

You can also see the come hither glow of casinos from my front yard but so far the kids haven't been nearly as tempted toward that form of nausea.

Oh fine, I'll walk them over later. I've been waiting all school year to get up off the super slide with a super wedgie. But then, maybe I'll just forgo underwear.

Oh, that's potential and anticipation...

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Bob Barker knows you didn't spay or neuter your pet.

I'm proud to be the possessor of a unique type of sophisicated yet adolescent brand of humor. Honing my comedy skills takes practice and vigilence.

I was inspired in my efforts yesterday .

OK, I copied.

This is how my husband was presented with this sweet gesture before going to bed.


I told my husband that I had my choice of potty gags to choose from. He very well could have been the victim of:

...except that I found that photo of Jeff Goldblum constipating, therefore defeating the purpose.

The lack of Goldblum disappointed Justin, and so what he found this morning, on the cabinet across from our commode, was another of my gestures:

I'd squeeze that Charmin.

Ohhhh couldn't I go so far with this theme!

Owen Wilson is watching you pick your nose and try to flick the booger. (Hanging off the rearview mirror)

Sally Struthers is watching you lick your butter knife, double dipper. (On the lid of the margarine container.)

Pam Anderson knows you blame your silent but deadlies on your dog. (On the endtable, next to the couch, by the remote.)

Jessica Simpson just watched you pop that big juicy zit. (On the inside of the medicine cabinet.)

Dr. Ruth says you ain't doin' it right. (Framed expensively, above the bed.)

Before you know it, my house is going to look like a People magazine. I could charge admission. There won't be public toilet facilities however.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

No Early Birds

For a couple years now I've been considering maybe I just might have a yardsale maybe next weekend or the weekend after next if the weather is good.

I know my neighbors will all ooh and ahh over all the crap I don't want anymore. They will snap it up and think themselves lucky and frugal individuals, right? Righto!

I have a three piece canister set shaped like a pig. It has a big pink porcelain bow about it's neck. Amazingly I'm willing to part with this for a buck. I have a full sized brass plated headboard and no full sized beds in my house. Five dollah. I have two unworn 36D nursing bras...Calgon, just take them away!

My paternal grandmother, bless her heart, was a hoarder. This is why I have several boxes of her fabric in my garage. It's why a bunch of my female relatives also have several boxes of her craft supplies in their garages. If she thought it was of any use, or pretty, or something that someone might want someday, she bought it and she stashed it somewhere.

Unfortunately Grandma didn't stash anything you could take to The Antiques Roadshow and then sigh dejectedly over when the appraisor tells you it was only worth 30K instead of 300K.

I have been using Grandma's fabric stash. Frankly I am the only relative who could use a lot of it. She had terrible taste. It's been great for costumes. Check out this creation I made from a length of her bullet proof polyester with a loud floral print with silver tinsel in the knit.

I honestly don't know what she was planning to make out of this fabric, but it kept nicely in storage until I used it. One thing about bullet proof polyester is that it handles nicely when you sew on it. Hmmm GoGo Dancer.

Unlike my Grandma, I don't have a full basement and several spare bedrooms to store my crap. It's getting so I need to do something with it. It's been getting that way for the last two years.

So...for anyone that has ever given me a knick knack...really I do apologize, but some of it has got to go. I enjoyed it until I stopped having room for it.

The wall hanging made out of a pan with a stuffed chicken in it? Fifty cents. No checks please.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Stock up on duct tape.

School's out in a week.

Help me!

Thursday, May 17, 2007


The other night, Justin, my opportunistic husband, put his finger down the neckline of my shirt.

I asked him, as he was poking around down there, what it was that he liked about cleavage? (Yes, I do possess some cleavage...)

He replied, "It's made out of boobs."

Ahh. I beg to differ.

Give ya a shiny nickel if you poke your finger down there.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

How d'ya do Captain Howdy?

It turns out that I didn't need an exorcism afterall.

Isn't it a hoot that demonic possession and food poisoning display the exact same symptoms? I awoke at 3 A.M. yesterday convinced that it would be a spectacular idea to call a priest. Obnoxious substances were jetting forth out of every one of my orifices all at the same time.

This isn't the work of Satan. I can either blame bad ranch dressing or a gone over can of sweetened condensed milk. Those are the two things I ate which my family did not. My family still looks and smells wholesome to a point.

I feel better this morning.


As much as I wanted to, I didn't slurp down the whole can of sweetened condensed milk all at once. What I did do is make up a batch of iced coffee using this recipe:

10-12 cups of freshly brewed coffee
1 can of sweetened condensed milk
6 or 12 good squirts of hershey syrup

(Hershey squirts...yeah, funny.)

I then used May's Bestest Housewifely Doodad to thoroughly mix these ingredients and add a delightful amount of froth.

The Hand Blender!

Despite the many sexual innuendos I could make about the name and shape of this handy little appliance, I think I've already pushed my limit with all the hershey squirt talk. The shape is a key part of it's function. You need to be able to place the blades down into a glass or bowl.

I like these doodads because they work like blenders without having to wash all the blender bits. These are easy to clean and just as easy to jam into the cabinet containing all the rest of the appliances.

Hand Blenders come in several brands, ergonomic shapes, colors, wattages and price ranges. I bought mine for around 8 bucks on impulse. I was craving a malt.

Don't get your fingers or any cords near the blades whilst the doodad is plugged in, alrighty? If you do it's absolutely not my fault...nor is it my fault if you try out my recipe and you too end up thinking you need an exorcism.

Oh yeah, you should refrigerate the recipe when you are done frothing it. That's important when it comes to iced coffee.

Thank you hand blender, I like you, I really like you.

Friday, May 11, 2007


I'm not at all embarrassed to admit that I really really really like costume movies. Really? Yeah really.

This isn't a surprise to you? I guess not. I sew costumes and stuff. Costume movies make me moist.

My own personal costume movie library includes:

Gone With the Wind. (Duh.)



and Orlando.

Among others...

Justin was ever so considerate to add to my costume movie collection this week with the gift of Sense and Sensibility. We cuddled together to watch.

Ohhhh Mr. Willoughby!

There is only one thing wrong with this particular adaptation of the book... husband stopped paying attention to plot points to watch out for Kate Winslet.

Kate Winslet has been in every costume drama since the dawn of time. I am NOT watching Titanic and that's final. Resistance, so far, hasn't been futile.

Oh Kate Winslet, you corset tightening tart! Why do you arouse my husband so? Alright, dumb question. It's that smooth face full of sexy good cheer.

Moist and Moistability.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

...and I can't flick it off

There are certain toys that any parent with a couple of brain cells and some awareness of their surroundings won't buy for their children. The consequences of owning such toys far outweigh the momentary joy of giving your rug-apes these tools of satan.

My toy shit list includes:

Poster paint
Easy Bake Oven
Nerf...or any other foam toys.

With this in mind, you can imagine just how thrilled I was when my oldest son took off to the store with his chore money and came home with an ostriche sized plastic egg filled with glow in the dark silly putty.

I warned him, I did...I warned if that I found any of it smooshed his carpet, in his hair, on the cat... that I'd promptly make him wish that his mother never gave birth to him.

To give him credit, he did heed my warning. He didn't smoosh it anywhere.

What he did do (and this is perfectly logical) is hold his silly putty up to a lightbulb so he could recharge it's glow in the dark superpowers.

....and the silly putty melted under the heat of the bulb.

....and that changed it's molecular structure.

So now his neato silly putty would forever be the consistency of mayonnaise and a hundred times stickier than a booger. My kid melted this alien green silly putty all over his hands, his clothing, and left a great deal of it all over the bathroom fixtures.

I had to scrub it off his hands with a several squirts of dish soap and a toothbrush. The film left behind was easily removed with a tingly rubbing alcohol rinse.

I hope to god that all that silly putty...the stuff he already washed down the sink before becoming distressed and telling me of his plight...doesn't clog any of my drains.

I'm warning my neighbors now. If a mutant glow in the dark creature forces it's way up from the sewers, splashing out of your toilet and demands Pokemon cards and Gogurts, you can defeat the evil with rubbing alcohol.

Or cheap wine.

My vote is for cheap wine.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Wash, Rinse and Dry

How about we write a post whilst we are on hold with Whirlpool? I have purchased a dishwasher. It was delivered this morning. Purchasing a dishwasher should be a simple procedure, right? Wrong! Apparently I also need some sort of thingabobs so I can actually plug the thing into an outlet. Why the company I purchased the dishwasher from didn't inform me of such a thing, I do not know. It's right made my bowels clench up.

All I want is a working dishwasher so I can retire my dishpan hands. Is that so wrong?


Yesterday my husband and I went on a bicycle date, taking out the new bicycles we thought we were in shape enough to ride. I'm fitting into my skinny prepregnancy pants, but that doesn't mean I can ride half a block on a slight uphill grade without feeling like my legs have turned into canned pasta.

My thirteen year old son has rightly called me a "wuss". I've been pwned, as those silly teens like to say.


Speaking of husbands, mine was interviewed by Bored Housewife/Lucky Lucky Star. It's the meme that's going around these days, five questions, five answers. In turn, I have asked Justin to interview me. Let's get it on.

1. If you were allowed to create your own superhero persona, who would you be, but more importantly, who would be the villians you would be sworn to defeat?

You'd expect me to say something along the lines of "fartman" (or fartwoman if you please). Flatulence is a great untapped resource. Howard Stern is not a great untapped resource.

As tempted as I am to zone in on farts, I'm more tempted go become "The Invisible Housewife" so I could walk about naked just about anytime I wanted to. That would defeat "Stretchmarticus", "Beasty Hairy Legs of Doom" and "Evil Cellulite".

It would also frustrate the mad scientist who invented underwire.

2. What was it like to grow up in a town of less than 700 people?

It was quiet. (I lived in a very small, rural, Utah County town, on a horse farm, up until age 12. More cows than people in that town.)

Yes, everyone knew everyone. You could rely on your neighbors to bring your horses back to you if they got loose...and you could also rely on your neighbors calling your lack of church attendance to your attention, repeatedly. No one cared if you smelled like manure. I ran around outdoors all day, throwing rotten eggs at my playmates and taming feral farmcats.

That small town was such an unsophisticated place that when I moved to a larger town, on the cusp of my puberty and still smelling of manure, it was such a confusing shock to me. I didn't fit all. I still wanted to color with crayons and they were all wearing D cup bras whether they needed them or not.

I retained my best friend from my small town days. She was never aware of how much I appreciated her unwavering friendship when I was struggling through those adolescent years.

3. What quality of yours do you most want to see in your three sons?

I hope to see them taking joy in small things.

4. Describe your perfect house.

Someplace with a lot of nooks and crannies. It would have a large gathering room, where the life of the house is located. Then there would be smaller, charming spaces where a person could go and just reconnect with themselves. I'd like a shady backyard with a garden spot. I'd like a large bathroom with a tub for two. I'd like a library.

5. If you could give any one celebrity a reality check for their obviously ignorant and unrealistic life style, who would it be, what exactly would you say, and what would be the manner of said reality check?

Seriously, that would be any celebrity who was giving marriage or parenting tips who haven't had more than a passing experience with either. I don't want to hear what Tom Cruise or Oprah thinks about how to hold a marriage together or how to raise children. Yes, they can have valid and well researched opinions, but all in all, I want that to come out of the mouth of Bill Cosby or Bill Gates. Frankly, I want it to come out of the mouth of people who don't think $100 Egyptian cotton towels are hanging in their bathrooms because it's a quality of life concern.

So, I'd wipe a booger on their linens.

There are many pro athletes I'd like to smack around for whining. You are being paid well to play a game. Quitcherbitchin'.

Monday, May 07, 2007

I forgot where I put my bloomers.

As if we didn't already have enough stuff in our garage, yesterday my upwardly mobile husband, Justin, and I went and purchased bicycles. For ourselves. Not for our children. We bought adult sized 21 speed purple bicycles outfitted with what seems to be seats designed for the butts of four year olds.

I have not ridden a bicycle in sixteen years.

Riding a bike again was delightful. I didn't expect the bike wedgie, but that was delightful as well. When I was a young-un I had a bike with a banana seat. I didn't realize how good I had it then. Banana seats are the proper seats for the butts of thirty year olds.

I have placed this sticker on my bicycle.

Groundskeeper Willy is sexy.

Tonight, Justin and I have scheduled a bike riding date. I plan on seeing if I can coordinate my body so I can pedal and shift and brake without running into a parked car.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Itsy Bitsy Tarp

According to my newest issue of The Ladies Home Journal, it's time to begin that ever nerve wracking yearly ritual of shopping for and then buying swimwear.


Seriously, I do need new swimwear. My old swimwear is old enough to have developed lycra snags on the butt and crotch. Why go through the torture of shaving yourself clean for swimwear when your lycra snags mask your efforts?

I try not to embarrass my kids in that fashion at the public Ool...Har har, I left out the P.

Needless to say, there will be swimsuits that am I not tempted to try on, much less buy.

Glittery tampon strings are out.

Too geeky.

I can smell the butt sweat from here.

Ducks are so last year.

What? No pockets?

Oh...hell no.

I'm off to browse around Newport News. They offer nice suits for reason prices in long torso varieties. I need long torso swimwear...or else I do end up looking like Borat.

Updated the next day, May 5th: Nearly two years ago I ended a pregnancy by giving birth to a baby boy. During said pregnancy I gained 80 pounds. I vowed that someday that 80 pounds would fall off my body and maybe go to live at Paris Hilton's house. TODAY I put on my prepregnancy jeans AND THEY FIT....and Paris is going to jail. Woohooo!

Thursday, May 03, 2007

I'm in ur postz, coughin up hairballz.

I've been thoroughly enchanted with the internet phenomenon known as "Lolcatz" lately. (Or Lolcats, can't we agree on a spelling?)

This stuff hits my funny bone right between the spots that make me find farts funny and make me find Carrot Top hilarious. Do not argue with me. That stuff is funny. It is. Fine...Carrot Top isn't funny.


And here is one of my dumb gay cat. I just made it.

And here is an Lolcatz version of Star Trek's "The Trouble with Tribbles". It's genius. Thank you to Uncle Willy for bringing it to my attention.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007


So...I was taking a shower today...

That's all to the story. I took a shower. Some days, the personal achievement level is particularly low. My toddler won't be two until June, but no one has told him this. He's a grumpy little twit. I'm allowed to do nothing except make sure he's supplied with toast, milk, juice, fruit and Blue's Clues. Anything else is met with much protest. So...shower...woohooo!

Maybe that's not all there is to this story. To continue with this vein of glass half full, I managed to get undressed for this shower! Showering naked is one of the best ways to get clean. I highly recommend it. I got to use the soap, the shampoo, and the conditioner.

Oh, and I combed and braided my hair!

I put on deodorant.

And...I got clean clothing that doesn't resemble sweat pants or pajamas. I could actually go to the store and look presentable.

There, that's the success. Today I can go to the store and no one will think, "My gosh, that woman looks and smells like sweat socks!"


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