Friday, December 25, 2009


Merry Christmas everyone.  The final day of my audio advent calendar is O Holy Night beautifully performed by Allison Crowe.

We're heading to Utah. Everyone have a safe and happy holiday!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

It's not waterpark weather.

It's cold outside.


Which is why we are grateful when the temperature spiked a few degrees above freezing yesterday,  the control valve to our lawn sprinkling system blew then, causing our snow covered lawn to burst into fountains, rather than blowing while the temperature was that much freeze-my-ass-off-ish. wouldn't have blown at all would it?  If it had just stayed freezy?  Dammit.

We did think we had turned it off.  You unhook your hoses and turn the knobs off to your system and unplug then electricals and it shouldn't function.  There should be no fountains.  There should be no icicles hanging off your rose bushes.   It's a stinkin' conspiracy!  It's close to MLM!

My husband spent a few hours in some very cold mud yesterday removing the old valve and capping off the system until spring.  There was a hacksaw involved.  That's always entertaining.  Anytime there is home maintenance to be done and it involves a hacksaw you know it may also be time to take off your shirt from under your overalls,  put some bacon on the backyard grill,  get out the shotguns, fire them into the air or toward neighborhood cats, and whoop.  Hacksaws are just so earthy.

While repairs were underway the water was shut off which meant stern warnings to the kiddies that while they could sit down and introduce new substances into the toilet, they must not flush it.  No water.  We have ONE flush each toilet and there will be no wasting of the flushes!

Each kid took this to heart.  They don't remember to flush half the time anyway, even when we haven't had winter fountains in the yard.  My kids...they support hacksaw parties.

Just in case, when we get in our fabulous minivan tomorrow and drive ourselves into Utah to visit with our families, we'll be turning off the water right after that last long car ride flush.  We absolutely don't need to put on a winter water show for our neighbors while we are gone.

Good thing I have never attempted to toilet train my cat.  He never listens.


Day 24 of my audio advent calendar is 80 proof!  This crazy drunk lady manages a jolly rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas

Grandma?  Is that you?

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

That's not the Star of David...the Death Star just went Kaboom.

Up in my attic, in a dusty box, the album that contains day 23 of my audio advent calendar is slowing warping.

It's not mine. It's Justin's. Anyone else admit to owning Christmas in the Stars: The Star Wars Christmas Album? Used copies go from 65 to 130 on Amazon!

Use the force and try to enjoy R2-D2 We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Under and Over the Mistletoe

You didn't buy your significant other any of that holiday themed underwear to stuff their stocking with, did you?

That is NOT the spirit of Christmas.  For shame!

Buying any of the following will result in Santa Claus leaving you a lump of coal:


You'll slip on the ice.

Christmas wedgie.

Carrots improve eyesight?  You don't say!

Tinkles the Sexy Sexy Elf.

You realize that you cannot return any of these well thought out gifts for sanitary reasons, right?

Let's not expound on what is and is not sanitary.  I have to bake a yule log.


If you DID end up with a pair of festive underbritches, pair them along with day 22 of my audio advent calendar!  Santa Wants Lovin' by Albert Collins.  Get your Jingle on.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Ho ho ho

I'm running behind today.  Running is the key word.  Something I ate has staged a coup.

Sure, that sort of thing is hilarious in Dumb and Dumber but in real life it's just a pain in the butt.

So, day 21, have your music.  Carol of the Bells by Laffy.  Control yourself there buddy.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Coochie Coochie

I know it's cold and stormy, but what better to warm you up than the spicy latin flavor of Charo on Day 20 of my audio advent calendar?

Shake your Ts and your A to Donde Esta Santa Claus.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Trying to make puns out of Eminem lyrics for this post is a horrifying experience that I won't be repeating again.

Last day of Hannukah and the 19th day of my audio advent calendar, get crunked and Get Your Dreidel On.

Hands off my latkes shorty.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Stage Chemistry

Up to that point, I'd never had a more embarrassing or thrilling moment in my life.

I'm ten years old, in fifth grade, and I'd been cast as the Mom in Goshen Elementary School's Christmas play and the boy I'd had a crush on since I was six was cast as the Dad.  A kiss between us had been written into the second act.  A kiss!  A real peck on the lips kiss!

This had to be shortly after my older teen-aged sister cut my long little girl hair into a long mullet.  With enough curl I could pass myself off as a adolescent Carol Brady.  Lord knows there wasn't any other value in that haircut.  It brought an aspect of realism to the part.

I was proud of my little onstage home and the homemaking skills I was scripted to perform there.  We had a sad looking stage couch, a pathetic floor lamp, a sorry dinette set set with a bowl of plastic fruit, and a sagging Christmas tree at the back decorated by the rest of the fifth graders.  In the middle of all this playing house domesticity, while pressing my dainties with my toy prop ironing board and iron, under the spotlight, I was to lay one on my Mike Brady in the quickest and least germ transferring way possible.

In first grade I gave this boy a construction paper covered and Elmer's glue scented shoebox containing 100's of paper hearts for Valentine's Day.  I loved him.

With all the rehearsals over and the moment now mattering because it was in front of an audience of parents and peers, we leaned into each other, focused our eyes on each other's noses and mushed our tightened lips together.

The audience whooped.

That sealed it.  When I grew up, I was going to marry this boy.  Marry him, have perfect children with him, and live in my parent's camper in the backyard. 

Did he feel the same way?  Of course he did!  I could tell because he wouldn't talk to me at recess.

Five months later I moved away.  Sharing years of marital Christmases with him in front of a tree decorated with paper snowflakes was never to be.  Even though I was only 27 miles away calling him would make me die from embarrassment and it was long distance anyway.

Getting over first love hurts.

The point of this story?  Don't let your older sister cut your hair into a mullet.  It wrecks the rest of your entire life.


Treat yourself this Christmas!  Fix yourself some eggnog, take off the utilitarian cotton knits and put on some slinky satin and hose!  Day 18 of my audio advent calendar, Walking Around in Women's Underwear by Bob Rivers.

Please don't send me your photos.  Thanks.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Check your pants for the yule log.

Before I start dismantling my computer corner with my obsessive need to rearrange my furniture from time to time, I'll admit that he who smelt it dealt it.

Slim Sphincter blows his way through an uncoventional rendition of Come All Ye Faithful on day 17 of my audio advent calendar.

It's Joyful...

And Triumphant...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Don't take candy from strangers.

Especially this one.

Gene London closes his eyes, wishes on an elf, and suddenly he's a Walking Talking Christmas Tree on day 16 of my audio advent calendar.

It's not a step up from being a walking talking fruitcake.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Sneaky Webslinger

The jig is up...or is it gig?  It's up.  Done.  Discovered.

My preschool aged kid knows about the super awesome ultimate Spider Man themed toy I've hidden up in the high shelf of my closet near the back, behind a box of illegal fireworks, a package of pantyliners and a stack of towels.

That's what I get for hiding leftover halloween candy up there and not thinking that my kid has climbing skills.

Spiderman likes feeling fresh.

For the next nine days I have to come up with excuses as to why I'm not sharing Spiderman with him.  I could tell him the truth, that it's a Christmas present and now you've gone and ruined it.  God hates snoopers.

Or I could get creative with my excuses and offer to pay for therapy when this child gets into his 30s.

- Spiderman is hiding from you.  You tried to flush him down the toilet last week!  You don't flush the solids that are supposed to be flushed down the toilet and yet you think Spiderman needs a spa treatment!

- That's Mommy's adult Spiderman toy which requires two D batteries and thorough cleaning.

-  That's where Spiderman drinks Jager Bombs.  He's stressed.

- Shhhhh...don't bother Spiderman while he's dressing in Mommy's clothing.  What's so hard to believe about that?  He already wears that skintight spandex.  No harm in a little Fruit of the Loom bikini cut.

- If Spiderman has to listen to a reading of Fox in Socks one more time, he's going to explode!

- Spiderman's an atheist.  No Christmas for you.

- Leave him alone.  He's avoiding that naggy witch Mary Jane.  Great power, great responsibility, her ass.

- If we leave Spiderman up there long enough he'll begin to go moldy and turn into Venom.

- You can't have Spiderman, we're giving him to starving children in Africa.  That's what happens when you don't eat your broccoli.

Fine.  I'll just move the damned thing.  I'm going to stick it in the laundry room.  The kids never venture in there.

...and Spiderman can try on my bras undisturbed.


O Holy horror!  I can't tell if it's Christmas or Halloween with this uncredited version of O Holy Night on day 15 of my audio advent calendar.  Chainsaws are more melodic.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Help me Ma Bell!

My cell phone has a germ.  It's dying.

It's five years old.  That's ancient in cell phone terms.  It doesn't text.  It doesn't take photos.  It doesn't play MP3s.  It won't access my email.  It can't grill paninis or whip up smoothies. 

My landline phone has been ringing off the hook all morning.  Do I really need another ringtone in addition?  Are there any ringtones which don't annoy the living hell out of everyone? 

I'm drawn to those superphones for the sheer nifty doodad value.  Who needs a crusty and torn magazine while waiting at the doctor's office when you can whip out your phone and update your Twitter and Facebook with, "I'm waiting to see the Dr.  I hate waiting!"  With that covered you can move on to Farmville or Mobsters, take a picture of the woman sitting across from you sneaking peeks into her tissue and send that to everyone, then go ahead and pay your copay by punching a couple buttons.

I barely use my phone now, do I really want to pay for doodads?  How much do you pay for doodads anyway?  If I got a crackberry on Amazon for a penny and sign up for a two year contract, how much am I really paying if I add all the extras that you buy a crackberry for?

My husband's phone is dying too.  Is a happy marriage one where we both own a crackberry?

Maybe I should just cancel phone service altogether and get one of them "as seen on TV" internet phones for all my long distance needs.  That's all I use my cell phone for now.

Well, there was that one time I called the number on a "How's my driving?" bumper sticker, because the driving was indeed unskilled and dangerous, and got hung up on.  Customer service at it's finest.

If I get a phone with doodads I can Twitter or Facebook about the dangerous driver, look up his plates, find out his home address, look that up on google maps, then decide exactly the sneakiest course to go toilet paper his house...and then lurk on his wife's blog.



Danke Schein?  Day 14 of my audio advent calendar is Wayne Newton styling Jingle Bell Hustle

I'd do the bump with Wayne, yes I would.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

The High C of Galilee.

I thought Away In A Manger was supposed to be a lullabye?  Fred Lowery whistles the hell out of this version in day 13 of my audio advent calendar.  There goes your Sunday afternoon nap.  I'm sorry.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Stuff matza balls in your ears, first day of Hanukkah and the 12th day of my audio advent calendar is Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy, Klezmer Nutcracker (Shirim).

Oy vey.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Santa's getting skinnier.

So...those motorized hamster toys aren't going to kill your kids?

Because after you've invested 160 bucks for all the motorized hamster accessories they show on the commercials you expect a little more bang for your buck.  They'd better play with the damned things until they are a junior in college or they do indeed kill 'em.

I'm frustrated with the quality of toys this season in balance with most people's budget.

Don't get me wrong here.  I'm more than grateful to have a budget at all.  The ability to buy my kids even one present is more than many have, much less a present that has absolutely no purpose other than to provide joy.  It just seems to me, this year more than any other, that to provide quality toys under a fake or dying tree takes selling off the first born. 

Fattens the budget for the rest of the brood.  Think about it.  Also reduces milk consumption and mess around the toilet hinges.

BB guns, which are good Christmas presents, are 30 to 60 bucks.  Footballs, which aren't very good Christmas presents, are around 15.  Those toys might last a while if they made them like they used to.  Chances are they don't.  Kids will take an eye out.  Once you verify that nothing will kill your child by way of poisonous metals you have to worry about the toy you can afford breaking shortly after the three month return period.

This has made my shopping experience more frustrating than the usual holiday frustrating shopping experience...and I don't do Black Friday.  What the hell do I put into my cart when everything is crap?

On top of this, holiday advertising for the really cool toys, the toys we can't afford, is as smothering as that dumb blanket with sleeves.  Sorry kiddo...Santa Claus doesn't like you enough to leave the as seen on TV $300 life sized interactive dinosaur by the tree.  Swear to Cletus, if he did, and if that thing ever ended up outside, my kid would be in traction.

That's why my kid has been watching PBS when it comes to TV.  Not much toy licensing there, right? 

Lumps of coal just might be more useful in these times.  At least coal is shiny.


I'm consoled with day 11 of my audio advent calendar.  I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas by Yogi Yorgesson.  When he sang this classic there was no RockBand for the PS3.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Christmas Bangs! It Bangs!

The enunciation isn't as bad as you'd think!  William Hung performs Deck the Halls for day 10 of my audio advent calendar.

God, he's adorable!

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Jingle Hell

Grab a hanky because your mascara is about to run, day 9 of my audio advent calendar is Tammy Faye Bakker delivering this enthusiatic version of Jingle Bells.

Don't ask me what Jim Bakker is delivering.  That's more than I want to know.

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

I know of three positions. Any more is just showing off.

A couple weeks back my husband and I were invited to a small evening gathering of his teacher coworkers.

The point of this gathering was to shed off the pre-Christmas teaching idiot teens doldrums and get completely plastered.  Such events are a novelty to me.  I grew up in the Utahiest location in Utah, which means Kool-aid was the beverage of choice, and I was too married with kid in college to manage any sort of partying. 

Growing up the culture I grew up in, it was unimaginable that teachers partied like it was 1999.  Everyone knew that teachers went home at the end of the day, ate bricks of government cheese, spot cleaned their twenty year old ties, and had one position sex with their spouses.  Teachers did not do jello-o shots.

As a suspected one position sex spouse, shedding such an image at this event became important to me.  I wasn't planning to get knackered but I did want to change my daily wardrobe from any fabric that could be described as a fleece, including my slippers.  What this meant was taking out the ironing board, pulling my favorite black cotton blouse out of the laundry and spiffing it up a bit.

Turns out that ironing wasn't the only way I was going to spiff up the shirt.  That was accomplished in a fabulous way already.

There was silver micro glitter sort of collected in the armpits of my non-housewife blouse.  In over a decade of housewifing I have never in my life pulled a clean shirt out of the basket  in the laundry room to find that fairies had magically inspected my laundry but in no way attempted to finish, fold or iron it for me.  Little twits.

Turns out that disco ball pits are the result using extra deodorant because of hot flashes and then washing my blouse with the halloween costumes.

What's the point of this story?  I had to wear a sweater and I took a photo of the social studies teacher's buttcrack after she'd downed a large amount of tequila and white russians.  I may be glittery but at least I wasn't vertically smiling.

Or mixing those two. Yark.


If you are hungover, don't listen to day 8 of my audio advent calendar.  Tastee Christmas, which is logically uncredited.

What are you doing being hungover on a Tuesday anyway?

Monday, December 07, 2009

Washing my Hands

Can a person be accused of not feeling the holiday spirit if they get fed up with certain family members and kick them out of their house forever?

That's right.  Fed right up.  I am seriously tired of doing everything for them and I get nothing but mess in return.  Enough with the entitled attitude too.  Enough with the gimmes.

Without much ado at 6:30 this morning I shoved them out the door.

In a plastic baggie.

With some of their tank water.

Those fishy orange bastards will live the rest of their long and useless lives in our highschool's science classroom, pooping and begging to be fed.  They'd eat to the point of explosion and I just wasn't into being that cruel.'s wafer thin.  Better to expose them to hoardes of pubescents.

My kids asked where the goldfish went.  I shrugged.  They asked what I was going to do with the tank.  I told them I was going to clean it and put it away for a very very long time. memoriam...all my fish over the years. You'll be remembered Thor, Jussy, Scumbag, Redeye, Oprah, Dr. Phil, Jon Stewart, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, The Gert Jonnys, and The Village People.

Let the requests for a box turtle begin.


They say sugar won't over stimulate you but I beg to differ.  Day 7 of my audio advent calendar is Christmas Cookies and Holiday Hearts by The Caroleer Singers.

Put down that candy cane and step away from the gingerbread.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Heavenly Pieced

Thinking of spending a quiet Sunday internet shopping and surfing on sites your parental controls usually block?  Think again!  December 6th of my audio advent calendar brings you Silent Night by Dickies. 

The birth of our savior kicks ass.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

Kathie Lee should be glad she got out when she did.

When I think of Christmas Cheer, I think of combovers!

Day 5 of my audio advent calendar brings you Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer enthusiastically sung by Regis Philbin and Donald Trump. 

If I had antlers, they'd be tingling.

Friday, December 04, 2009

They refuse to undergo gender reassignment or lobotomies, so I'm screwed.

How is it that some of you people were able to breed children with girl type anatomy and I was not?

Because, you people with female offspring can't have possibly experienced what I experienced last night.  Girls don't pull those kinds of shenanigans.  It doesn't even occur to them.  They'd rather die than do what my fifteen year old son did to my ten year old son.

Keep in mind that my ten year old is a gentle kid.  He's a boy sure.  He likes to blow things up too, but when he expresses his desire to do so he wants to make sure everyone has a blanket and hot chocolate first.

The fifteen year old would stand there with lit explosives in his hands wondering how big the boom will be when it does go off.

So while my older boy doesn't have sense enough to remove himself from possible danger he does possess enough logic to know that if your stomach is a wee bit upset from eating all the crap teenagers are compelled to eat and you're passing foul winds that passing said winds in your brother's room keeps the smell out of your own room.  If your brother is in there quietly playing video games when the bomb hits, well, all the better.

And if your mother walks into the quiet son's room to put something away and has to run back out gagging?   Cha.  Ching!

When I regained my senses and discovered that the reek was just the result of a SBD and not a clandestine dead pet I demanded my oldest spray disinfectant, change his clothing and chug some Pepto.  He was warned that farting in such a way again would result in assault charges.  As in, charges on me, because I'd beat him.

(Oh shush...I know what you've read here before.  Do as I say, not as I do.)

How I fear for my oldest son's future spouse!  The apologies start now.  I'm so sorry.  I am so so so sorry.  Know that I did try to instill a little couth into the boy. 

You parents of girls, this doesn't happen in your house, does it?

Yeah, don't ask MY parents that question.  They have four daughters.


If the above didn't make you sorry enough, day 4 of my audio advent calendar brings this lovely rendition of  Little Drummer Boy sung by Marlene Dietrich.  

Put the drumsticks down.

Thursday, December 03, 2009


Never ever shake the presents under the tree that have ventilation holes.

Day three of my audio advent calendar, Santa Face is Bringing Me a Budige by Freddy Davis.

In my house that would be a Christmas treat for the cat.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Because I started this damned thing, guess I'd better continue...

Day 2 of holiday cheer, can you dig it?  Of course you can!  Today's audio advent calendar:

Rockin Disco Santa from the American Song Poem Archives.

Bummer, I got a polyester rash....

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

The power, the absolute power!

It's not often around this little corner of the blogosphere that I display my serious side.   Content of The Absent Minded Housewife will more often than not have references to my boobs, or my groin, or to 70's porn films or farts.  Serious schmearious, there have been too many bodily functions in my existence to not make light of them.

Besides, that stuff is funny.  Matches my decor.

One can't be funny all the time.  Between the farts I have deep thoughts and a couple of brain cells to rub together.

There have been places on the internets where I could go to express myself in more adult and less lewd ways, to the chagrin of many.  Places where I can use my great big vocabulary and cultivate a part of me that gets underutilized in the daily raising of my rug apes.  It's natural that some of these spots in my online world come and go.  A few have run their course and I miss them terribly.  A few have stopped meshing well with my personality and life views.  Some are too anonymous and others aren't anonymous enough. 

Though all my meanderings in front of this screen and under my mouse there has been one constant.  I've grown there in ways that I'm beyond grateful for.  Yet, in all my years and participation in this particular forum, it never occurred to me that I was a likely choice to step into the role of moderator when a woman I respect and have quite a lot of appreciation for stepped down.

My silly fart joke loving self is now moderator of's Marriage Forum

Oh lordy, do they know what they're in for?  Do I?  Where is Scut Farkus when you need him?  Who says this stuff isn't real life?

In any case, I'm truly honored.  The Gas-X is in my desk drawer and I'll do my best.


December 1st?  Time for caroling!

For your listening pleasure, day 1 of my audio advent calendar, Dominick the Christmas Donkey by Lou Monte.  Enjoy.

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