Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The Burning Bush


1. After dipping your fingers in the jar and applying the miracle under thy nose and onto thy throat, thou shalt wash your hands. It is in this way you will not mistakenly apply the miracle to your eyes, your no-no parts or onto the cat.

2. The holy manufacturers of the miracle were not kidding when they warned you that the miracle was not meant for internal use. That means the jar too and not just the ointment.

3. Thou shalt not complain about the distinctive aroma of the miracle in front of the user of the miracle especially when that user has been rendered far less cranky by it's use.

4. Thou shalt not suggest that "smoking mentholated cigarettes has the same lung clearing effect as the miracle, so get thee down to the convenience store to buy a pack, wheezy."

5. Applying the miracle to the inside of someone else's underpants or jock strap or brassiere is displeasing to the lord and not nearly as funny as you think it is.

6. After applying a thick layer of the miracle to one's chest and throat, thou shalt not insist on giving topless bearhugs to those who do not require the use of the miracle.

7. Thou shall put the miracle to use in humidifiers designed for that purpose. Though shall not place smudges of the miracle on lightbulbs, in the microwave, or on any heating elements. Thou's house will explode in flames.

8. Thou shalt not remove the jar of mentholatum from the household so you can take it to the neighbor's house and use it on their dog...because their dog has a runny nose too.

9. Thou shalt not mistake the miracle for diaper cream, hemorrhoid ointments or margarine.

10. Thou shalt not use the last little bit of the miracle in the jar and then sneakily place the empty jar back into the medicine cabinet. Thou shall get your mentholated posterior out to the store to replace the jar.

That'll clear your sinuses...you idolaters.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Head of State

I'm waging a war on snot. At this point I have no timetable for pulling out of my sinuses. I must stay the course.

I woke up around 2 a.m. Sunday morning, completely clogged and miserable, and stumbled to the kitchen to find some sort of relief in the recycled ice cream bucket in which I keep all the cold remedies in. Miraculously, right on top sat a box of night time Alka Seltzer cold. That'll do, pig, that'll do...so I gagged down the recommended dose.

...Which punched me square and hard in my snot swollen face and knocked me out for the next 24 hours.

Do not drive or operate heavy equipment. Don't operate light equipment either. Hell, do not even attempt to push buttons on your remote control. Using any gadget requiring batteries is out.

Yes, that includes my toothbrush.

Now I know how President Bush feels.

Friday, September 26, 2008


I'm ready to get my presidential debate on.

That's if McCain doesn't pull a Letterman on it. Hearing the candidates speak is as much a part of solving this financial bru-ha-ha as anything behind closed doors.

(Ah, just in, McCain's going to be attending this prom...corsages for everyone!)

I wish I could ask the some debate questions. I think I'd be a fine debate moderator. I would even put on a bra and some pants for the event.

1. So...the economy...Senators, what gives?

2. Should we be comparing either of you to Reagan?

3. What is your favorite expletive?

4. I'm the wife of a lowly public school English and history teacher. Diagram my previous sentence.

5. What color is your running mate's underwear today? Did you know I put on a bra to ask you questions? You should feel honored.

I'm a registered voter. Doesn't that make you feel warm and fuzzy?

If Justin and I weren't taking friends out to dinner this evening, before the debate, I'd be serving a vat of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Dinner for the occasion. It's the cheesiest.

Don't worry, I'll be putting on pants and a bra no matter what I eat.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Squeal like a pig

I'm going to do some costumey type sewing things today.

And some lineolum reduction type things today.

So, have some piggy porn.

You're welcome.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

He puts the lotion in the basket

Changing eating habits is sexy, don't you think? Cabbage is sexy. Lentils are sexy. Grams upon grams of fiber is downright pornographic.

My husband has lost 25* pounds in the last six weeks and 32 inches all about his body. He's got droopy pants and firmer jowels. He's still as hairy as he ever was. Fifteen more pounds to reach his goal.

My goal is just to remain regular.

...and only somewhat hairy.

Since beginning this "lifestyle change" we've found the BBC program You Are What You Eat to be informative and interesting. Host Gillian McKeith gathers up all the crap these people eat in a week and piles it on a table, showing her victims just how much delicious grease and sugar they are consuming. Then she looks at their poop for signs of ill health and gives them a colonic. After that, she makes them eat food that are other colors besides brown or white. At the end of the show these people dance about after losing stones of weight.

I've learned that a stone equals fourteen pounds. Sure, you English types are all for the metric system unless it's to describe how much ye merry olde selves weigh. Saying you weigh 20 stone is so much nicer sounding than blurting out 128 kilograms or 280 pounds.

My quest to remain regular definitely has no place for a colonic in it. Have you seen the size of that hose? And what do you call the person administering the colonic? Bowel health technician? Digestional plumber? Hose artist? Go on Gillian McKeith's diet and you lose a stone every time you poop anyway. Lentils, yup.

I'm very proud of my husband. He tells me he doesn't like lentils though.

I tell him to eat the lentils or he gets the hose.

*Justin just called. He weighed on the official school scale, the one they use to weigh all the wrestlers, and he's lost a total of 30 pounds...or 2 some odd stone for you Brits.

Monday, September 22, 2008

My Blue Heaven

You readers and other hangers on had better appreciate my post writing today. I had to type the whole thing and I usually type a damned sight faster than my brain thinks. Typing is much slower today because I jammed my wrist crowbarring up the impractical white lineoleum in my kitchen. Yes Mom, I took something for it.

This home improvement stuff is awesome.

I have bathroom renovation dreams. Red, gold and green...red gold and green. Seriously, the loo will be in shades of blue. You must excuse my Boy George moment and my rhyming. My wrist hurts.

Anyhow, the bathroom should be a relaxing oasis. It should be a place where one can sit, and sigh, and grunt with both satisfaction and delight.

I had that for a while. I once renovated my toilet seat.


But, Christopher Walken just doesn't stay fresh long and eventually he had to go. Here is my bathroom as it is now:

It's...sterile. You can decide for yourself if the framed black and white photo of Jeff Goldblum displayed on my wall cabinet adds or detracts from the sterility.

When I'm done renovating my bathroom it should look something like this:

That's a framed photo of the entire Big Chill cast in case you're wondering. Can't you see yourself having a satisfying constitutional in this magical fertile fairyworld?

I sense that you can't.

Fine. I told you my wrist hurts.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Ahhh push it...push it good.

We're only a month into the school year, not even really into Autumn yet, and germy coughing and snot has descended upon Casa Absentminded.

Justin has been coughing. My three year old woke up this morning, sneezed, and unleashed a professional wrestler sized gob of yellow snot across his chest. I complained yesterday, and I'll reiterate this complaint this morning, that my tonsils are the size of 1990 cell phones.

To prove the point, I give you a Radio Shack commercial about a 1990 cell phone. Enjoy.

Dude, you've got a HUGE cell phone. If I had a cell phone that huge I'd show it off every chance I got.

I notice that there are sixteen evenly spaced, same color buttons on the archaic cell phone. My own phone, which is very small yet still wimpy because it does not text or take photos, has 19 buttons. I understand what most of them do. My husband has his own cell phone, the exact same free model that came with our plan, which has the same 19 buttons.

And just when I was feeling technologically superior to our 1990 Radio Shack cell phone user and Tandy computer enthusiast, I began to think about how many buttons I have around me, begging to be pushed.

The four remotes that run my family room entertainment system? 101 buttons.
That isn't counting the buttons on the actual units themselves: 19 buttons.
And the buttons on the remotes and the units to the TV in the bedroom: 86
Then the buttons on our alarm clocks: 20.
Not to mention the buttons on the brain of this house, our computer, not counting all the plug ins and drives. 132.
Then the kitchen buttons on the appliances I use everyday...because counting the appliances I don't use that much would be silly: 46. (Just to clarify, my coffeepot only has 1 button.)
And landline phone buttons: 39
Then the buttons in the van including the buttons on the garage door opener and our keys: 87
Then all the light switches in the house: 14
And last but not least: 2 toilet levers.

I did not count the TV and DVD player in my son's room or any other of their electronics, including the Playstation. I also did not count the buttons on my sewing machines or my other equipment used for the making of the crafts. I'm sure I missed a bunch of stuff too, like my vacuum and my washer and dryer.

Just let me add up my buttons on my computer calculator so I don't have to count handheld calculator buttons...mmm carry the 2...mmm yes yes...Grand total, 565 buttons that run most of my daily life.

And I know what a majority of these buttons do. I'm still trying to decipher the toilet levers.

My tonsils being huge is not what is making that number hard to choke down...and what gets me especially is that my number is relatively low compared to the average American consumer. I mean, seriously, I don't have a DVD player in my fabulous mini van.

I think if my coffee pot can run on one button, certainly I can get myself a button which would keep my three year old from producing wrestler sized gobs of snot. Or maybe a button that would make it possible to aim and shoot my toddler's snot on command.

That could be useful when shopping for new improved buttons on electronics during the Christmas season.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

There is no wool over my eyes.

I could be in Elko today.

I know, it's everyone's dream to go to Elko. The wide open spaces, the newly renovated Walmart, the sheep...ahhhh heaven in Nevada!

However, I wanted drive the 120 miles to Elko because today Barack Obama will be speaking in Elko. A chipper woman working for his campaign informed me of this whistle-stop over the phone last night. She tempted me.

The sheep are tempting too, I admit it.

I went over in my mind the reasons to go. Obama would be quite something to see in person. The speech was being held at a park which was convenient because I'd have to take my three year old and there would be swings. (There is also a giant curly slide which I won't allow him to attempt to "slide" down because the whole thing is a huge urinal.) I could buy an Obama Tshirt. Elko has a Taco Bell.

Then, there are reasons not to go. Two to three hours to get everyone through security before Obama would speak. 240 miles worth of four dollar a gallon gasoline. I would have to take my three year old...

And by the time I'd made up my mind to sacrifice the gas money and go last night, I remembered, my older children get out of school early today. If I took off to Elko no one would be home midday to make sure they didn't burn down the house. It's one thing to let my oldest do some babysitting while we go out to dinner in town...it's quite another when I'm 120 miles away with our sole source of transportation.


Barack Obama cannot possibly advocate the destruction of my house or my love of sheep.

I hope he's on LIVE today.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Morning Minutia X

I now have a giant hole in my kitchen linoleum. It's big enough to claim that my kitchen is shabby chic.

My next door neighbor is a grumpy grumpy woman. I'm considering baking her a big plate of brownies and leaving them on her porch with a lovely cheerful card. However, the brownies will be chock full of methylene blue, which will make her pee party colored.

I need to find more reasons you work the word "twat" into conversations.

I'm ready to get my presidential debate on. Nobody had better call my house on Sept. 26th. I'm busy, yo.

I cut up my son's outgrown plaid boxer shorts into quilt squares. Is that bad?

Quit lookin' at my bum, you bum looker.

Is it a requirement that the writers and producers of modern children's television programming be hooked on meth? I think so. Jim Henson, I miss you.

The only reason I have not purchased the new computer game "Spore" developed by the same people who made "The Sims" is to torture my children. When they tell stories to their grandchildren about how hard they had it, not getting their Spore on will top off their old people ranting nicely. Then want a game when I have a big hole in my floor? Yeah, right!

When I walked out of the grocery store to my fabulous minivan late last Wednesday night, I spotted a very young couple engaged in something that required the driver's side door be open and the young man's pants undone. I live out in the middle of nowhere and they can't find a less well lit place to park? Kids sure are lazy these days.

I have disco fever.

All the minutia you can handle without the bothersome calories.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Thar's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza dear Liza

I have impractical white linoleum in my kitchen.

Err...Vinyl flooring. Whatever. It's white. It's generic. It's in a constant state of grunge. The edges are curling up. I hate it. White linoleum is instant failure.

So, in a fit of PMS induced housewife rage I did this to it:

I'm ridding myself of this scourge upon my floor. I don't have to get it up all at once. A little bit at a time will do.

This is concrete in which this scourge on my floor was glued directly upon. Had it been glued properly I would have just laid new flooring right on top of the old...but the vinyl has bubbles and parts that are curling up. Tearing holes in the floor feels good.

The glue is coming up easier than I had expected. I don't think whoever laid this floor even used real glue. It might be flour and water paste. If anyone wants to taste test that theory you can be my guest.

See those darker lines? Someone who was in this house before we bought it tried to patch up the vinyl by laying in a square, which also seems to be flour and water pasted. Crap gets in those gaps, and besides rhyming, looks obvious right in front of one's fridge. The damage I've done only looks slightly less obvious.

After stepping on the obvious square you might have found yourself running from a giant boulder made from the dirty socks of three boy children, cat fur infused vacuum bag contents and Velveeta.

That's a banana sticker, which I've decided to remove in the most round about way possible.

I have not decided what to replace the flooring with as of yet. Knowing my children, a layer of sawdust might suffice.

Saturday, September 13, 2008


Debra and her pants have provided me with something to do this Saturday. God bless her...let's get our meme on.

Four Places I've Lived:
1. Utah County, UT
2. San Diego County, CA
3. Iron County, UT
4. Elko County, NV

Four Favorite Books:
1. "A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving
2. "The Pillars of the Earth" by Ken Follett (but not it's sequel...it sucked)
3. "Vogue Sewing" by the Vogue Sewing people, lol.
4. "The Collection of the Kyoto Costume Institute: Fashion, A History from the 18th to the 20th Century" by Taschen.

Four Favorite Movies:
1. Gone with the Wind
2. Pride and Prejudice
3. The Shawshank Redemption
4. The Shining

Four Embarrassing Facts About Me:
1. Like all the other females in my family, the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is fart.
2. If you've never seen me with my finger up my nose, I'd be surprised.
3. I have nipple hairs.
4. I think potguts are sexy. Not that six packs aren't sexy, but soft bellies are sensual too.

Four Dreams Of Mine:
1. I want to buy a vending/catering truck.
2. I want to to make a showing at WOW.
3. I want to glue all kinds of stuff to a car, maybe even the vending truck.
4. I want sequins, millions upon millions of sequins.

Four Pet Peeves:
1. People who leave their children's diapers in parking lots.
2. Craft bitches in the craft stores...we aren't all competing for the title of craft queen.
3. Sarah Palin.
4. People who treat waitstaff in restaurants, or cashiers, or cleaning staff rudely. The people who do these jobs make life pleasant. Quit being an ass to them.

Four Things That Make Me Really Happy:
1. Being comfortably warm.
2. Sex.
3. Fabric stores and second hand stores.
4. Seeing the birds out of my windows.

Friday, September 12, 2008


In writing a post yesterday, everything that came out of my little typing fingers seemed trite given the day. Keith Olbermann says what I was thinking so succinctly that I find myself suddenly attracted to the man in ways that contradict my abstinence only education.

So, I didn't post. Instead, I ate a wedge of raw cabbage while on the phone with my little sister, assuring her that my previous post about stinky doors wasn't nearly as cryptic as it looked. Cabbage is fine for one's digestion.

Today, I'm limiting my posting to Keith Olbermann and cabbage because everything that has been coming out of my little typing fingers seems trite given the weather in Texas.

If anyone wants to come over for cabbage today, you're welcome to.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Stuck Forks

Ever find yourself done with something?

Hold the phone here. I'm not done with the blog. I loves my bloggy, yesh I do, yesh I do! I've not written because I haven't been feeling very well, which leaves me not feeling especially funny or wordy. I feel much better today. I feel funny. Feel me. See? Feels funny.

Before I was not feeling too well I'd come to the conclusion that there are a couple aspects to my existence that are over. One held my interest but has run it's course because it stopped having any potential for growth. The other is something I'd abandoned long ago but had left the door open to because I thought I might want to return. Now I'm done. Just....done.

Wait, the previous paragraph isn't funny. God, you better feel me again. Just trim your nails this time Raggedy Anne.

I'm finding this process fascinating. That's why I didn't mention the subjects in which I'm done. Ultimately those are neither here nor there. Closing doors opens other doors. Some of those doors open into rooms that smell like vegetable soup or public restrooms. Some of these doors open to rooms that smell like pumpkin pie. Just trying to figure out which doors to put on my plate is awesome.

In a way this goes along with my husband's dietary lifestyle change. We are eating quite a lot of vegetables, only some of which have been made into soup, and twenty of his pounds have snuck off. They probably found life more pleasant behind the public restroom door. Don't let the door hit ya in the ass on the way out.

So...what's next? I dunno yet...and that's wonderful.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Flushed II

I am concerned about two very important subjects this morning.

The first would be the silly people attending both the Republican and Democratic conventions, who hoot, and screech, and rip off their shirts in their zeal.

The second would be that my three year old has stopped pooping on the floor.

As for the first subject, I shouldn't complain. It's not like I've treated the candidates with much dignity thus far. I can't whine about the people who actually do attend conventions who find themselves so moved that they start babbling in tongues. If I had attended I would have had the most in common with Palin's five month old baby in that I'd be likely to sleep through all that harrumphing too. Just give me the issues and let me vote.

As for the second subject...WOOT...MY KID STOPPED POOPING ON THE FLOOR! Peeing, he'd mastered peeing. Pee landed in approved locations. Poop? He was having those irrational toddler control issues which are so normal for the age. I'm me, I'm not you, you can't tell me what to do, so I'm gonna drop a dook on the floor right next to my little training potty. If I do it right it'll be runny...muahahahahahaha.

But, since Tuesday, he's figured out that Mom is much more pleasant when she's not scraping excrement off the carpet.

And here, at the end of my post, you thought I was going to reasonably compare these two subjects, right? I don't have to. You've already done it in your own heads.


Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Goals accomplished.

I put on some pants today.

Just thought I'd put that out there.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Fruit flavored Tums

Only two months of this presidential election left! Will you be sad when it's over? I guess that depends on who wins and who loses, doesn't it?

I want to say here, in my little corner of the blogosphere, that I don't give a flying crap about Sarah Palin's 17 year old daughter. Or her son(s). Or any of her kids really. I don't give a crap about them any more than I give a crap about Obama's kids or McCain's kids. I give a teeny crap about Biden's kids but only because the name "Beau Biden" is so fun to say. When you stub your toe, you can screech "Beau Biden!" and it makes sense.

When was the last time you thought about Amy Carter anyway?

I once mentioned that it has been tradition here at Casa Absentminded to eat mexican food in honor of Dubya while he delivers the State of the Union address. The more beans the better. Belching during the speech was encouraged and digestive upset aftewards expected.

With Bush moving on, at last, a new style of food must be considered and I expect that will influence my vote almost as much as the issues. The menu is just as important a factor as determining who to vote for in the upcoming presidential election by imagining which candidate had the most dignified "O" face.

Because, it's about experience people.

So, for Obama, I'm thinking deep dish pizza, with plenty of cheese and pineapple. Cheeeeeeeeezze. Though, I really don't care for pineapple on pizza. I like to keep my sweet and my savory away from each other.

And if it's McCain I'm thinking a variety of pork products soaked in beer, served along side plenty of other deep fried foods. Fried cheeeeeeeezze. Though, I don't really care for beer, but it's an alright marinade for some things. Beer, in general, is yucky.

Menu suggestions are welcome.

And, here, have a McCain.

God, was that good for you too?

Absent Minded Archives