May 23, 2011


I have phenomenally weird dreams.

Last night I was Betty Suarez again.  But this time Betty/I was in high school.  And I/we were also some kind of Buffy-esque type super hero.  Except way dorkier. 

We were the absolute nerdiest nerd that could also kick bad-guy butt.  And also we owned a metal detector that helped us in our escapades (because all super hero dweebs need metal detectors).

Except, since my dreams are pretty much stupid, I had to just replay the same scene over and over instead of have an actual dream that, you know, played out into different scenes.  So really there was just one bad guy.  And I only saw him for like .3 seconds each time the scene would start over.  But this bad guy had a really huge snake, which was who I really had to fight.

The snake was like a cross between the Harry Potter basilisk and a big slimy salamander.  So I had to worry about him eating me AND dripping his nasty slime all over the place.

In the scene, there was a little boy, whom the snake was after, hiding in a bath tub in some crappy old house.  And the snake comes, is about to eat the little boy, but just as it goes to strike I/Betty cut it's head off with a big shiny sword.

And then the dream starts over and does it again.

Until it changed. 

Betty/us becomes just me.  Regular old me.  And instead of the little boy hiding from the snake, it's all of my kids the slimy basilisk-salamander wants to eat.

So since I've gone through this thing quite a few times, I know I need to hide my kids in the bathtub of the old crappy house.  So, good news, we're already in the house.  So I'm getting them in the bathtub, and none of them are taking me seriously.  At all.

Opie's like, "But I have to POOP!" and gets on the toilet instead.

And Monkey's like, "Blabberblabberblabber gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!" because he never holds still, and there I was trying to contain all his monkey-ness in a bathtub.

And then Two Bits starts in with her, "I think we should do this..."  and  "This is this way because of this...."


And they all just look at me like, "yeah, sure Mom."  Because I've clearly joked around about this kind of thing too much with them.  That, and lately the whole "mind your mother" thing is just not happening.

So there we were: me trying to wrestle my kids into a bathtub (and silence) with a basiliskamander about to burst in at any second.

Except first a family bursts into the room.  With their dinner.  And suddenly the bathroom is also the dining room.  And this family is all "la-dee-da" and sitting down to their mashed potatoes.


And the family's like, "Woah, there's people in our bathtub."

And that's when I realize I don't have my Betty Suarez snake-head-removal knife.  So I snatched a wimpy little steak knife off the table, and tell the family to get me a bigger one.  Which earns me puzzled looks from all involved.  Because, by this time, my kids are joining everyone at the dinner table.  (Except for Opie who was still sitting on the toilet.)

I finally convince someone to fetch me a real knife, but while she's gone, guess what?  Yeah, the baskamander comes barreling into the room.  It rears up it's ugly slimy head (with fangs) and is about to strike at my kids when I'm hit with the horrible realization that I'm no longer nerdy superhero Betty Suarez, I'm JUST ME.  With a little wimpy steak knife.

So I close my eyes and I lash out with the knife (in a rather ungainly way)....

...and the snake's head falls to the ground, totally separated from it's body.

I open my eyes and I say, "THAT was it?  That was all it took?  REALLY?!"

And then the woman (the one who was supposed to bring me a knife) comes back into the room WITH A JAR OF PICKLES.  Because, she says, "I thought this would be better than a big knife, dear."

But when she starts dripping pickle juice on the beheaded baskander it starts regrowing another head.

Because apparently pickle juice can bring big scary basilisk-salamander-hybred-dream-snakes back to life.  Who knew?  Well, know YOU know, so you should probably pass that information along accordingly.

So anyways, not wanting to relive that whole scene again I hurried and cut off the growing head before it could eat any of my kids.

And then I woke up and realized I had totally overslept and had exactly 16 minutes to get all four of my kids ready for school.


May 19, 2011

the email that made me laugh. like this. HA haha ha HA HAAAA ha.

I got a funny email today.  It went like this:

Hello My Dearest,

With deep sorrow and tears in my Eye, I know that this mail might come to you as a surprise because we have not met each other or see face to face before. I am Miss.Regina El-Moiz Abunura, 23 years old an orphan, originated from South Sudan, East Africa, Female, tall, slim, and fair a very good looking girl that loves to be loved. 

Yo there,
You don't know me, but I'm attractive. Oh and there's something in my eye.

My father of blessed memory by name late Mr.El-Moiz Abunura who was the President and Chief Executive Officer in Sudan Petroleum Company, SUDAPET at the Block 9/10, Resident 22/1 Africa Street P.O. Box 13188 Al Khartoum 11111 Sudan, The brutal killing of my mother and my father, one kid sister and kid  brother took place one early morning by the rebels as a result of the civil war that is going on until now in my country Sudan. 

Ok, so I had this dad, and here's a lot of boring information about him.  And my family was killed, and here's me referring to fake people when actual people are actually dying in an actual warzone - I'm a totally sensitive person.

I am now writing you from Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso where I escaped through road, and now seeking asylum in a private charity organization under St Paul’s Catholic 
Church, Ouagadougou, Burkina-Faso.

So I am now in search of an honest and reliable person 
who will help to relocate me for a better life and to continue my studies, I  have chosen to contact you after going through your profile and I believe you  are a reliable person who will not let me down or betray my trust I know you may  wonder why I am so soon telling you about all this, even without seeing or  knowing you fully well, really something in me tells me that you are a good  person and I guess I am not wrong.

I went through your non-existant profile and chose to write to you because you're nice (smiley face, heart heart, smiley face).  And obviously I think your stupid - otherwise I would pull this scam on someone else.
Briefly I will like to disclose little more about  myself to you and see if you can help to relocate to your country so as to  continue with my studies and have a new life, and please this is a little  secrete and i plead with you to keep it to yourself alone until everything is  properly arranged and executed, then i will come over to join you in your country

I have the sum of $9.4 Million as an inheritance from 
my late father whom I will like to invest in your country with your help, it is  my intention to compensate you with 30% of the total money for your services and the balance shall be my capital in your establishment. the reason why I need  your help is based on the instruction my late father given to the bank to  release the fund to me only when I present a foreign trustee who can help me to  invest the fund wisely, so the bank will not release the fund to me without the  help of a foreigner as my father instructed the bank.

So I was fleeing this war torn country, rebels hot on my heels, and I was like, "DUDE, I should get my dad's millions of dollars transferred to me."  Because that's what people do when they're fleeing for their lives.

Honestly this fund was deposited by my late father in one of the banks here in Ouagadougou,  Burkina Faso and I am going to give you all the details / contact because I want the money to be transferred to your account before I come over to join you in your country, I need your urgent answer of your ability to handle this transaction for me so that I will tell you the next step to follow for you to received the fund into your account without any problem, I am really suffering since the death of my parents, it is too painful, but I hope with your help I will have the fund transferred into your account, and i will have a better life to live in your country.

Since your SO SO NICE (heart, smiley face, heart) I'm going to get your bank account information and then give you some of my money.  That's right - I'll GIVE it to you.  Not take it, nope none of that.  I would never ever use your bank info for anything other than GIVING you money.  Pinky promise.

As soon as I receive your interest in helping me, I  will put things into action immediately. In the light of the above, I shall  appreciate an urgent message indicating your ability and willingness to handle  this transaction sincerely. Please do keep this only to your self. I beg you not  to disclose it to anybody until the money transferred into your bank account and  then I will come over to your country.

P.S.  Don't tell anyone I have money.  Because we wouldn't want THAT leaked to the public.....for some unknown reason......that doesn't really exist.

I am waiting to hear from you for more discussion,
Yours Sincerely,
Miss Regina El-Moiz Abunura.

Well, you know what Miss Regina El-Moiz Abunura?  I am NOT a nice person.  Also, I'm not an idiot.  Also, YOU'RE an idiot.

Dearest Dear-heart of all Deardom

P.S. This email better not have had a virus attached to it.  Because then I would stop laughing and just have to punch you instead.  In your very fair face that loves to be loved.

it's a cage

I have a headache in my eyeball...and also, you know, in my head. 

I hate these kinds of headaches because I don't know if they are just ye typical precursor to migraines or  horrible spike in glaucoma pressure pains.  Either way - my eyeball hurts. 

And so does my head.


The neighbors on the corner are building some kind of trailer on the side of the street.  Except we're not really sure exactly what it is because it has walls and a door and windows.  And wheels - but just two.

First they built the walls out of metal rail thingies, and then attached wooden studs to them.  Basically this thing looks like a big cage. 

Which is exactly what I'm telling my kids it is.

Every time we see it, I say, "Hey look Opie, they're working on your cage!  Are you ready to move in?  I think they're almost done."  But none of my kids believe me when I say they're going to have to live in it.  So today, when I was walking Opie home from the bus stop I was going to ask the neighbors if it was really a cage, you know, to prove that I wasn't lying.  Except that when we got closer Opie was yelling, "NO!  Don't ask that, Mom!  NOOOOO!!"  And I couldn't really have a conversation with cage makers over all of that yelling. 

So the kids will just have to keep taking my word for it.

It's a cage.


So I haven't mentioned it for awhile -because I figure I have the button on my sidebar, plus now I have a page with a link right under my header- but you should really go read my magazine.  Because it's awesome.  And stuff.

Ok, I think my eyeball is really going to explode. 

I think I may need to go drug myself to sleep now.  Because that's pretty much the only sleep I get these days, seeing as my over-active imagination hates the dark and sometimes my stereo gets possessed at 2AM.

May 16, 2011

things like this shouldn't happen when the husband is away

It's 2:30 AM, and I'm fairly certain there will be no sleeping for me tonight. Not for any of the usual reasons, like I'm working, or have a puking kid, or locked in the steamy embrace of my Swedish lover, Sven.

OH NO, none of those are why I won't be sleeping. Not just because I don't actually have a Swedish lover named Sven, but because I am absolutely, truly, insanely TERRIFIED.

There I was, in bed, lolling off to sleep, like regular people are known to do at 2:00 in the AM, when, without warning, the stereo in the living room TURNED ITSELF ON.

It turned on.

All by itself.

And not just a little bit. OH NO, it came on in the most blazingly obvious of possible ways by playing the radio at an irregularly loud volume.

At 2:00 AM.

While I'm home without a husband.

Who, by the way, is totally useless to me over the phone when he should be HERE to calm down my uber-freak-out. (Plus, I had to call him 4 times before he picked up the phone, which was a huge deal on my part seeing as my hands were shaking too much to properly push the call button.)

So here are the facts:

A) House full of sleeping kids, and almost sleeping me.

B) All the doors are locked, all the windows shut.

C) Stereo remote dismantled on armoire, completely lacking batteries (and has been in this state for 3 days).

D) Stereo last used on auxiliary setting to watch Netflix before bed, yet comes on - ON IT'S OWN - in radio setting.

E) Loudly.

F) Have owned stereo for 10+ years, without any past freakiness.

Only other factor?


Hence, no sleep tonight.

And further more, if I did have a Swedish lover named Sven, I'm absolutely positive he could protect me from nerve wracking stereo experiences while my husband is away.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some more freaking out to do.

May 15, 2011

if my nerdiness was in question before now...

So, I'm a total dweeb.  (Of course you probably already knew that.)

Have I ever mentioned how much Netflix and I hang out?  I mean, I'm a major fan of Hulu, but it's Netflix that will forever have my heart.  I LOVE YOU NETFLIX, you're always there when I need you.

I also really love Sci-fi shows.  Because, yeah, that whole being a dweeb thing.  And it very recently came to my attention that season 5 of Doctor Who is now available online through Netflix.

I have been waiting for this.

(You really must know the depths of my dorkiness - I had to watch a special on Daleks to deal with my Doctor Who withdrawals.  And speaking of Daleks - what a lame opponent.  I know they're supposed to be The Doctor's greatest nemesis, but they're SO OBNOXIOUS.  I get that they want to keep uniformity through the 50 billion seasons of the show, but honestly, can't we just kill them off and be done with?!)

So, at the end of season 4, The Doctor was dying and had to regenerate.  When I found out they were offing David Tennant I pretty much felt like punching someone.  Granted, he had skinny girly hands that kind of made me cringe, but I just KNEW there was no way anyone on the entire planet could make a better Doctor than David Tenant.

In fact, I had made up my mind, right there and then, to hate the new casting.

This is Matt Smith, the new Doctor:

Even with my predetermined dislike in tact, it took me about 2 minutes into the first episode of season 5 to become totally smitten with the new Doctor.  SMITTEN.  I tell you.  I'm all smitten-y.

Matt Smith is the BEST. DOCTOR. EVER.

The Doctor's quirks have never been so likeable, plus his hands don't bug me and his sonic screw driver is more awesome than ever.

And now I'm going to get back to it, because I think I can fit one more episode in tonight before I nod off.

(For the record, where the Daleks are unquestionably lame, the weeping angels are totally the creepiest.)

May 12, 2011

I have something vitally important to say

This is my 301st post!


You're all invited to the party.  Feel free to COME and leave me brilliantly witty comments.  I'll bring snacks - do virtual M&Ms count?  What if they are virtual M&Ms that have MY FACE on them?

(Of course these virtual snacks will have to also have to be imaginary, seeing as I'm not actually going to bringing anything to my non-actual party.)

But I still expect brilliantly witty comments.

And possibly 6,000 more loyal blog followers.

Is that really too much to ask for?!  Absolutely not.

Also, did you notice how my last two posts were sponsored?  This blog is officially MONETIZED. 

The stupid banner ads I've had on here for years?  Yeah, they totally don't count.  Banner ads never count.  Banner ads are LAME-o.

Sponsored posts?  THE. WAY. TO. GO.  Seriously. 

So, you wanna know how I did it?  With this:

Broadcast Bloggers JUST OPENED.  Well, ok, their official launch is on June 1st, so technically you're all invited to sneak in the back door with me instead of waiting in line out front with your pitched tent and butane stove.  (But don't worry, I have the key to the back door, so we're allowed in.)

So yeah.  Sign up for a free account and use my sponsor ID (that would be that back door key we were talking about): 1068005 and you can start blogging the second all the jobs are posted in on the board (which should be ANY TIME now.)  FYI: you make at least $63 per post, or as much as $300....for one post.....yeah, it's awesome.

But, whatever you do, don't forget to leave me those brilliantly witty comments.  I'M WAITING..... 

May 10, 2011

my new plan to NOT move

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this yet (more than 7 times) but I really don’t want to move.  Today’s excuse is: I keep looking around thinking, “Man, someone needs to pack all this crap, and I certainly don’t want to be the one to do it.” 

Tomorrow’s excuse will probably be more along the lines of: But it took me FIVE YEARS to figure out how to drive around here without getting lost, and you expect me to start all over in a new city?

Therefore, I’ve spent a great deal of time considering all options I can pull to get us to stay, and what it really boils down to is THE JOB.  Because unless I wake up a millionaire tomorrow (and the prospects are not looking good), I’m stuck living off the money Husband makes.  And currently said husband is making said money IN UTAH.

But what if I find him a new job?  A BETTER job?  A stupendously wonderful amazing job?  That also happens to be right here in this very city that I can finally drive around in without ending up in Switzerland?

That would be good.

So today I’m going to look online for this awesome job.   And I’m determined to find it.

I already checked Craigslist, but I never trust anything I see there.  Maybe it’s because I had a bad experience with a Craig once and it’s forever changed my perception of anything to do with that name.  Or I’m just weird.  Either way, nothing good on Craigslitst.

Good thing I just found out about US Job Resource.  As in, potentially the very best place to look online for stupendously, wonderful, better jobs that don’t involve moving EVER.

I’ll let you know what I find.  Even if there aren’t any good jobs in our area, I don’t mind using my advanced persuasion skills to make the mediocre ones sound amazing.  I mean, at this point I’m fully prepared to make the job of “Roadkill Retrieval Specialist” sound like a day spent in heaven, if it means I won’t have to move.

DISCLAIMER: My personal story and all text links have been sponsored by US Job Resource

May 9, 2011

my wardrobe

You know the show “What Not to Wear”?  Is it still on tv?  We haven’t had cable for a millennia, so I’m really sure.  What I am sure of is that it’s one of the scariest shows of all time.  Those people break into your closet and STEAL ALL OF YOUR CLOTHES.  It’s like televised robbery.  And the scariest part - my family has been threatening to make me go on the show for years.

Pretty much,  I dress like a derelict buffoon that only has one color-blind eye and probably two different lengths of arms.  Or, in other words, I’m sitting here in overly-holey jeans and a sweatshirt that has Tweety Bird on it.  (If it helps my case at all, I refuse to wear this shirt in public…unless it’s just the school……or the grocery store around the corner….or sometimes I don’t even care and wear it where ever I want.)

But lately, what with the move coming up and more social opportunities on the horizon, I keep thinking about getting myself a better wardrobe.  Possibly I should care a teensy little bit how the outside world perceives my clothes……maybe.  So that way, when I’m trying to come off as something like a regular human being or whatever, people will take me seriously instead of staring at my kneecaps because my jeans are hanging by threads.

So I found this great website that has some clothes that aren’t overly mom-ish, but not like I’m trying to look like an 80’s punk.  Because I’m kind of at a stage where I don’t feel old, but I’m reeeeally not going to dress like a teenager.

And this website is even having a “Spring Blowout Sale” right now, which pretty much means I should act on this whole new-wardrobe impulse RIGHT NOW.  And also (because I really like you, and your awesome) I’ll share some super secret insider information that I have about said blowout – if you spend $50 during the sale, you’ll get a $10 coupon code to use later.  And if there’s one thing I love, it’s the excuse to go buy more stuff.  (Husband doesn’t so much love this about me.)

So who knows, next time you see me, I might be wearing something like this:

….or I might just show up in my bright yellow, over-sized t-shirt that says “Heartbreak U, Scooby Doo”.

DISCLAIMER: My personal story and all text links have been sponsored by Novae Clothing

May 8, 2011

for Hallmark

As per Veronica's suggestion, I'm submitting a Mother's Day card to Hallmark.

See. I already have the outside designed:

But I'm debating on the wording for inside the card though.  So I need your input.

I was thinking this:

Here's to wishing Mother's Day would be dragged into the street, beaten by 1,000 thugs with brass knuckles, then let loose with a couple dozen ninjas with nun chucks, before being doused in gasoline and set on fire.  Have a HAPPY day!

or this:

Is it wishful thinking that you can make it another year without selling your kids to traveling gypsies or the highest bidder on ebay?  We'll be keeping our fingers crossed.

or this:

As your adoring children, we wish we had never had driven you to insanity, but we really hope you like your new padded cell.  LOVE YOU MOM!

So yeah.  What do you think?  

Maybe Hallmark will print all three.

May 5, 2011

goat eyes will get you in trouble EVERY TIME

I have this talent, it's a gift really, that I very much enjoy sharing with the general public. It's kind of one of those talents that can't not be shared with others.

I have the amazing ability to open my mouth really wide and insert my foot all the way up to my ankle.  You know, metaphorically speaking, because it's not like my mouth is actually big enough to swallow my whole foot.

I went on a field trip to the zoo with Monkey's preschool class the other day. And I was hanging out with one of the other moms while we were there. I had never met this other mom before, but we were getting along pretty well.  Like, if I were to grade myself on social skills just then, I would have given myself a solid B+ (which is about as good as it gets for me).

That is, until we passed the goat feeding pen.  'Cuz that's when my amazing talent started kicking in.

I turned to new mom-friend and I said, "Let's avoid the goats, they totally freak me out."

And she said, "Whatever, they're not that bad."

And I said, "Yeah, until they look up at you with their nasty, CREEPY, weird pupil-y eyes."

And then she said, "Actually my son has eyes like that, its a birth defect."

And then I wasn't quite sure what to say because I was so busy gagging on my foot.

So I pretty much ended up giving myself an F for the whole encounter, even though things seemed to sailing along fine in the beginning.

But at least I can gain joy from knowing that I'm sharing this tremendous talent with the world., right?