Thursday, November 29, 2007

My 8 year old son's letter to Santa (which I opened and plan on replying to.)

Christmas List

Well, I like science, If you can, bring 3 things of that. I realy like Monopoly, I like the spongebob best, I like legos, I have so many decisions, so pick random. and no girl toys do you sell computers and laptops as presents? I'd like my own computer. NO (real) CARS, I'm not able to drive yet. I'd like an Eye-clops and spy gear. I like experiments. but only give one. I don't know which one I'd like, Except for making thunder.

That's 8 or 9, you can do the rest I'd like but

I am a nice

Boy.




I'm going to ask Santa to bring my son a real car anyway.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Morning Minutia VI

The best way to make sure you've eaten all the raisins in your bowl of raisin bran is to dump the contents of the bowl onto the couch and then systematically look through it.

I reserve the right to wear sweats during sex this winter.

I did not steal my children's winter coats. The ditsy checker at the store left those damned magnetic tags the coats when I bought them and no one stopped us at the door when we set off the buzzers. Therefore they are MY tags and I can use my Dremel tool to hack them off.

The most exciting item on my list this Christmas is a Crock Pot. Mine broke. If you can't figure out why this is exciting you need to think outside of the crock. I reserve the right to wear sweats while I use my Crock Pot this winter.

I'm feeling the urge to cut my very long hair again.

I am not a ninja.

I do not like this new brand of coffee in my coffee maker. It doesn't smell like coffee. It smells like cat pee. Tastes OK though.

Who is hanging out in my neighbor's house during the day, when she's gone, blasting bass speakers? Should I go knock on the door and tell whoever is inside that it's rattling the decor on my walls?

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Ever hear a pilgrim ask if he looks fat in his pants?

And did you ever think to what Turkeys are grateful for? Huh? HUH?



Happy Thanksgiving all!

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Absent Minded Nooky Report: #1, You put your leg here and I'll put my arm this way, ok, now put your hips here...no here...hold still...gotcha!

Oh my eyes, my eyes!

I've spent my morning looking at websites of the non-porn variety explaining the thousands of positions two people can get themselves tangled into to achieve some sort of penetration.

I thought I could impart some wisdom or at least some practicality related to sexual positions but my mind got stuck on an entanglement entitled "The Boston Brute". I don't think my husband can bend that way. I worry about any man that finds himself able to bend that way.

Not to mention that some of these entanglements require that you somehow defy the laws of gravity. Not only do you have to be double jointed but you should be able to float. Up, up and away...in my beautiful balloon...

I'm all for becoming creatively entangled during sex. I like as much skin on skin on skin contact as their can possibly be. I'm just not a fan of hurting myself, especially in the middle of the night with the lights off, to achieve that end. If you jab me with your elbow one more time I will kick your ass.

End...heh.

Because this is the internets and I'm apparently female, I've been asked a time or two by excitable menfolk what my favorite sexual position is. My standard answer to this question has been: Wrists and ankles are duct taped to the ceiling fan, I'm down asswards, and he's on the bed, standing on his head. Whirly whirly!

I imagine that the internet menfolk receiving this answer are cocking their head to the side, pondering the mechanics of this, while sitting in their parent's basement wearing only black socks.

By the way, duct tape residue on the blades makes your ceiling fan near impossible to dust.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

R.I.P. B.H.D.

Same poo, different day.

It's midmonth which means I usually post some kind of recommendation for a useful product to make a housewife's life go much smoother. Today I was about to enthusiastically yak on about my sheepskin wool lined slippers but I have nixed it.

Slippers. I was going to attempt to write something interesting about slippers. I'm the cure for insomnia. I'm the cause of coma.

Truth is, I believe the Bestest Housewifely Doodad has lost it's appeal, at least to me. I've even skipped months recently because I simply couldn't think of anything else unique that I personally use that I'd recommend. It had to end before I started raving about hemorrhoid treatments or cat litter. (And those two would be interchangeable posts, don't you think?)

I'm on the lookout for a new running gag. Something fresh. Something timely. Something I know a lot about that just might interest my readers and other hangers on. Something witty, provocative, in depth and spiritual too...

Screw that, I think I'll just write about sex.

Thank you sex, I like you, I really like you.

Suggestions and questions are welcome.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I can't believe it's not Louie Anderson

I'm worried about myself.

I woke up this morning fresh from an incredibly erotic dream. Yes, there was nudity and the touching of the nudity and the tasting of the nudity and even random moments of sniffing of the nudity. It was all very naked.

This dream kept me asleep for fifteen minutes longer than I meant to.

Who's the lucky individual you ask? Who's the object of my dream affections? Who lit a fire in my sleeping loins? Interpret if you like, I got it on with...


Louie Anderson.

My subconcious isn't reaching too far. I did buy tickets to see him perform in my town's new concert hall. I think the man is funny. My husband and I are going to go watch Louie perform real close up. I don't think I'll wear fancy underpants like I meant to when I went and saw Dustin Diamond. I think the cotton grannies will do just fine.

As erotic dreams with celebrities go, this one was new to me. In my dreams I've gotten it on with Simon Cowell, Mr. Bean, unwillingly with Tom Cruise (shudder), Maria de Medeiros (the female lead in the movie "Henry and June") and there was a threesome with Sean Connery and Mario Lopez (I woke up and thought, "That's the only time they'll work together.")

I once had a dream in which I was churning butter with an old fashiond churn that turned out to be pretty hot. It's a wonder the butter didn't melt.

Whatever would Freud say about me? How does this relate to my parents, my constant pencil chewing or my wish to have a penis of my very own? I don't think I use enough cocaine for him to have an opinion.

I don't use enough butter either.

Friday, November 09, 2007

You know, the pills are made of monkey cum.*

I did a bad thing and did not check my load of whites for a brown crayon before I put them in the dryer. One of my favorite blouses looks like the last square of industrial TP at a highway rest-stop.

I bought some goo to put on the marks so they'll disappear. It wasn't expensive goo but then my blouse wasn't all that expensive either. If it doesn't work I won't be too upset.

Don't you wish there was goo to make annoying people in your life disappear? How much would you pay for such goo?

I wouldn't mind spritzing the lady who gives me and my teacher husband the stinkeye in the grocery store for failing her progeny (who didn't hand in nearly enough completed homework and couldn't stay awake in class) with my spray bottle of "Twit be Gone". This product may also be effective with ineffective politicians or telemarketers you can't block because they catagorize their scam as a charity.

Or...instead of a spray...a heavily advertised drug that heals other people of their highly annoying traits. I want a new drug. One that doesn't cause dry mouth and erectile difficulties.

Terrorists are annoying.
George W. Bush is annoying. (Oh lord, why did I just have to think of Dubya experiencing erectile difficulties and why in the world would I relay that thought here so you too would think it all day? Heh.)
Paris Hilton is annoying.
This generation of Millenials is annoying.

and

At times I'm annoying. Sigh.

Did you think I wouldn't do at least a little self introspection here? I mean really, I DID start this post with my own laundry faux pas.

While I sit down with my load of whites and patiently dot the easily miscontrued brown crayon marks with goo, I have time to compare and contrast everyone I think is annoying with my own behaviors, everyone except Dubya Bush. Or maybe I'll just watch Oprah.

Let's hope the goo won't give me too much of a buzz during the process.


*Uncharateristic semen reference courtesy of "Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy"

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

33's and 44's

Yesterday was my 33rd birthday.

The nice thing about being in one's thirties is that I don't have to live through those perky breasted twenties again. I really don't know how I survived that.

When I'm forty I will be done raising my oldest child and I can have his room!

***

I've been tagged by Deb and her pants. I've participated in a version of the fours before but my answers have changed, and thank god. I once listed Dr. Pheel as one of my favorite programs. What a circus that turned out to be.

Four places I've lived:
♥Most of Utah County, except BYU land.
♥San Diego
♥Cedar City, UT
♥Bendover, NV.

Four jobs I've had:
♥Grocery Store Checker
♥Costume Shop Manager
♥Head Washwoman
♥Greeting Card Pusher

Four things I'd like to do before I die:
♥Win a top prize at WOW.
♥Marry off my children and take over their rooms for fun and profit.
♥Maybe open a little store.
♥Create a bitchin' art car.

Four favorite desserts:
♥Chocolate Cake
♥Tiramisu
♥Pecan Cheesecake
♥Blueberry Pie

Four interesting facts:
♥I can tell the sex of bugs by their genitalia.
♥I grabbed my brother in law's buttocks this last weekend.
♥I own three pair of catseye granny glasses.
♥I'd rather parade about my town completely naked than wear thong underwear.

Four favorite TV shows:
♥Big Love
♥Medium
♥The Price is Right
♥CSI

I tag Hillary Clinton and Mitt Romney.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Calisthenics make you winded and windy.

Never underestimate the power of peer pressure.

The peers I speak of are the group of friends that I've had since high school. As we are all entering our thirties we are finding ourselves more cantankerous, and chubby, and hairier in some places and balder in others. Our slowing metabolisms and penchance for pregnancy has ruined how we once saw each other as sixteen year olds.

One of those fools had a bright idea to join up at Introplay and have a friendly work out competition.

...And I volunteered to put my body through abuse because of my damned competitive nature. You do not want to play Scrabble with me. I promise you.

It does go nicely with my first day of school resolution to perform more Yoga. I like Yoga. I like the yoga man on my yoga tapes. I've always been particularly flexible even if the positions I can get myself into look about as graceful as a skydiving giraffe.

The competition will be tough to beat too. There are twelve of us divided into three teams. Each team is hosted by a marathon runner. No, I'm not the marathon runner. I keep reading how marathon runners hurl. I dislike hurl. I won't be performing Yoga until I puke.

I may also be utilizing my "Sweatin' to the Oldies" videotape that was elephant gifted to me at a Christmas party with these same friends last year. They thought they were getting rid of junk but little did they know they were handing me their thoughtfully wrapped downfall!

Am I the only one that thinks that Richard Simmons is a teeny bit sexy? Nevermind...

I'm off to perform sit ups and jump-roping. Then I'll slam down a Gatorade and feel accomplished.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Sleepless in Bendover

Hello.

Yawn.

What? You want me to type something? You actually want me to find the energy to move my fingers and say something coherent?

Silly wabbits.

There is much sleep lacking at my house. My husband hopefully slept well last night, but hasn't been able to sleep for four or five days previous. My two year old didn't sleep on Halloween night, being that he was all hopped up on sugar and trans-fats. That's why I didn't sleep much two nights ago. I got in maybe three hours last night.

Yesterday was heavy cleaning day at my house. My family is venturing out to see me this weekend and I felt compelled to freshen my house some. They seem to appreciate this.

On top of cleaning, yesterday was Christmas card day at my very part time job. Remember back when I said I was taking a job stocking greeting cards at the local grocery store and it would require 2 to 4 hours a week of my time? Durr...I forgot the Season's Greetings. I put in four hours last night stocking Christmas cards doused in glitter and I'm expecting another four tonight.

When I got home I was tired and thought I was ready for bed, but I stayed hopelessly awake until three. Falling asleep was blissful until Mr. Sandman did indeed bring me a dream. I could not stop stocking glittery happy holiday greetings. There were cards and cards and cards and cards...and no envelopes...and glitter floating so thickly in the air you would think I'd grow a dream horn out of the middle of my forehead and become the star of the movie Legend.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas...all...night...long.

I'm amazed I managed to spell a good amount of words correctly so far.

Yawn. Have another YouTube.

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