Dec 6, 2012

the risks of online shopping

Online shopping is great.  Because when the packages come it's like a little mini Christmas, just for me.  Every time I hear the thump of a package at my front door I get really excited to know what has shown up.  And I get to lock myself in my bedroom and open it while being perfectly justified ignoring the screaming children out in the hall.

The other day I got a package with the sock monkey family inside (mom, dad, boy, and girl, complete in a box that looks like a car - yeah).  It was extra super exciting because I ordered it on ebay and you never really know when stuff will show up after you've used ebay.  And I can't remember the users whom I've ordered from, so when a package shows up and it's from some guy named Herbert from Michigan, and I'm thinking, "What is this?" and then I open it up and it's a sock monkey family...

CHRISTMAS!

Except that sometimes when the packages show up the delivery people ring my doorbell.  Which, normally, wouldn't be a big deal.  But the place where we're currently living has one of those super obnoxious doorbells with a really long electronic song instead of the usual "ding dong".

I loathe doorbells like that.

When my kids get home from school (because they walk home now, which is fabulous because I don't even have to leave the house to pick them up or anything) they like to ring the doorbell about 7 times in a row just because I've deadbolted the door and they can't get in.  Kids are obnoxious that way.


Besides the doorbell there's really only one risk to shopping online.  And that's when the company who has shipped the item does not put it in a cardboard box of an indeterminable nature.  And the kids know that their Christmas presents are showing up in packages, so they also rush for the door when things show up.  And sometimes they beat you to the door, like say, just as a completely random example, you're stuck in the bathroom having diarrhea, and they get the packages before you can even leave the bathroom, and it's in just a regular box that has a big fat picture of exactly the thing they're getting from Santa this year.

Yeah, shopping online can be risky. 

But I still think it's worth it because, you know, CHRISTMAS!

Dec 4, 2012

tragedy of the lost phone

I lost my phone for awhile today. 

This used to happen all the time.  And then I'd find it in the deep recesses of the couch or in the back of my closet or behind the toilet or something.  But that was back when my phone was just good for stupid stuff, like talking to people.  blech.

But now I usually have my phone RIGHT THERE, because I'm one of those addicted-to-their-smart-phone people.  Sometimes I'll tell people that I lost it and that's why I couldn't answer their call, when really it's because I'm busy exploding chuzzles or browsing pinterest when they call and I don't want to be interrupted.  Or sometimes (ie. all the time) I just don't want to talk on the phone, so I lie and pretend it's lost.

But when I lost my phone for real today, I was pretty scared.  And I had to go to the school and help in Monkey's kindergarten class WITHOUT it.  And then I had to go to the grocery store and buy Orville Redenbacher's new Farmhouse Cheddar Popcorn (which happens to be really really tasty) WITHOUT it.  And then I came home and I looked around like crazy until I found it.

It had rolled itself up in a blanket on my bed like a little puppy - silly phone.

I was super happy when I found it.

And then I checked instagram, and did a sudoku puzzle to celebrate.

Oct 10, 2012

new neighbors

I mentioned that I moved (again) right?  We live in a duplex now.  The beauty of a duplex is that you can hear lots and lots of stuff that happens on the other side (especially if you have really super amazingly creaky floors, like we do).  And also, you share a yard.

Granted, duplexes are better than apartments or townhomes or something where a whole bunch of people share the yard or you hear neighbors above, below, and on each side of you.  So yeah, duplexes aren't that bad.

The other half of our duplex is rented by some guys.  I think there are three of them.  Except that I'm not really sure.  All I know is that one of them has a big bushy beard.  Because a bushy beard is something you don't forget.  But regular looking guys?  Yeah, I have no memory of what the rest of them look like.

Currently our new guy neighbors are in the backyard with some of their friends.  Drinking beer and taking turns throwing a knife at a stump.   The windows are open so I can hear all the action.  Every couple of minutes one of them will curse and say "OW!"  So maybe I can officially meet all the guys when the ambulance is inevitably called due to blood loss.

Beer and knives - probably the only other thing I'll remember about the new neighbors besides the bushy beard.


Oct 4, 2012

listen to this music

I'm digging the band Walk Off the Earth lately.  These are a few of my favorite songs (their cover versions songs I didn't even like before are super great).  Listen to them.  LISTEN TO THEM NOW.  do it.

Sep 26, 2012

stuff I found from college

We're moving to a new house.  Again.  Because that's what we do.  For the 10th time in 10.5 years of marriage.  IT'S LOTS OF FUN.  Except that it's totally not.

However

while we were packing the office tonight we found this old notebook of mine from college.  Most of it was filled with notes from my psychology class, but then I flipped to the back where I discovered some amazing gems of wisdom divined by myself and my hilarious roommates. 

My husband does not appreciate these gems, so I will share them with you.  (Who I'm sure will see them for the genius that they are.)

"Some people think that living in a socially obligated world brings on the destruction of segmented earth worms."

"Draw 4 cards in Uno always make me cry."

"I've never seen a purple cow, I never hope to see one.  But I can tell you anyhow, missed opportunities resemble bacon bits."

"One adjective evening, you were verb-ing outside when an adjective guy verb-ed by.  In passing he said, "phrase" to you.  In reply you adjective-ly said, "phrase".  So, you both verb-ed off into the sunset.  The end."

"Contrary to popular belief, penguins do not emit noxious fumes during winter solstice."

"Never the less, she left the chicken coop and ate small mammals with children, after living in a puddle full of sludge."

"If you hate the sensation of burning toe fungus, then what are you even living for?"

"Don't fight the reality of wild ducks shooting out of your nose."

"Some people say that the abominable snowman causes brain damage, but what the heck is up with Darla?"

"Magnifico, the great magician, doesn't like yellow fungi because I hate boys."

"Two lips like to take 10 minutes to cause retinal damage with a laser."

"I took two grandmas with cheese on the side."

AREN'T THOSE GREAT?!!! 

I mean, it totally makes me look like my roommates and I just sat around smoking pot during our entire college years.  But I swear we didn't.  Because we didn't need mind altering chemicals to make us awesome. 

We just WERE.

Sep 18, 2012

life makes me cranky

I am no longer planning my life.  You heard me.  I PLAN NOTHING from here on out.  No long term plans, no short term goals.  Heck, I have no idea if I'll even finish this sentence.  Because I am not planning ANYMORE.

Also, do you want to know what I think is really stupid.  Not just regular really stupid either.  Really REALLLLY stupid.  "The Secret."  I mean, I figured it was lame.  But now I know for sure.  It's really really stupid.

Also, does anyone have any experience with broken feet?  Or just one broken foot.  Not plural.  Because I think I broke one.  Because I was being stupid.  And I was trying to move a large piece of furniture over a toilet in a cramped bathroom.  And no, I'm not giving out details of that story because I already told you - I WAS BEING STUPID.  And so I dropped an armoire on my foot, and I'm pretty sure it broke.  Or was really close to broken.  And I kept it up and wrapped it and stuff for like 3 weeks, and it got better-ish.  And now suddenly, after the better-ish, it's hurting lots again.  So, what the heck?

Also, I teach a class of 9 year olds on sunday, and last week I was super cranky and I yelled at one of the girls in my class.  And I think I scared her.  But she was mocking Johnny Lingo, and I just can't handle that kind of crap.

Also, my husband knew that I was once again cranky today (ok fine - I've been cranky for like 6 weeks in a row now- SO WHAT?!) and he bought me a little plush Tardis that makes the noise.  And it's awesome.  Because sometimes my husband is awesome.  (And sometimes he's why I'm cranky.)

Also, I shattered ANOTHER glass in my sink today.  Because I think our sink is made out of some kind of space age 1930's porcelain.  We're down like 5 glasses in just over a year of living here.  I'm going to have to start drinking out of cups shaped like ducks and Mickey Mouse heads, because our plastic cups are all weird shaped like that. 

Also, an egg committed suicide in my kitchen today.  All I did was grab the carton out of the fridge, and I was just holding it when an egg forced the lid open and jumped to it's death.  And it almost hit my foot - the jerk.  I think our eggs would be less suicidal if they came from cage free chickens.

And now possibly, I'll go to bed.  But I'm not sure, because I'm not planning anything.  All I know is that I'm going to get up from the computer and maybe walk in the general direction of my bedroom.  MAYBE.  Maybe I won't.  You'll never know, because I'm all non-planning now.  My life is a big open sack of possibilities.....maybe I'll brush my teeth......maybe aliens will abduct me......will the suspense kill me?  WHO KNOWS?!

Sep 5, 2012

just another back to school post

I always have mixed feelings when my kids go back to school.  It's more peaceful for me when they're gone, but I kind of miss them.  Plus I don't get to sleep in - and that's what is really important.

My kids are in fourth, second, and all day kindergarten this year.  And Number Four should be in preschool but I made an executive parenting decision to not let her go.  Because I want her to stay here.  With me.  So we can hang out.

Number Four's special ed teachers want her to be in a 4-day a week class this year.  It's what we did in Boise with the boys, and it was super helpful and good for them.  But I'm still not letting her go.  Because I realized that it's kind of nice having just one kid around.  And she's lots of fun.  And we can go to the zoo, or play with her cousin, or hang out and put clips in each other's hair.  And she didn't really want to go anyway.  And I have lots more justifications when really I just didn't want her to be gone because she's my baby and I'm being selfish.

But I'm mostly ok with being selfish.

Especially since she's the only kid left who still thinks I'm the coolest person on earth.  All the other kids think their teachers or friends are way more awesome than me, so I'm holding onto Number Four as long as possible.

She's ok with it too.  Mostly.  Except about once a day she'll come get right in my face and say, "I am not having fun yet!  This is too boring."  So I have to find some piggy printables for her, or we play a game, or I just tickle her for a few minutes and then she's good.

Here are some pictures of my kids' first day of school (because I KNOW you want to see them):

This monkey has lots of monkey shirts to wear to kindergarten.  Because monkeys are the best.  He includes monkeys when he's saying prayers.  He'll say, "thank you for monkeys, and thank you for monkeys with glasses, and thank you for monkeys that are babies because them are so cute."  He's also always grateful for breakfast, but that doesn't include monkeys at all.


This girl's feet grew a size and a half over the summer, totally not joking.  Also we had to buy her a whole new wardrobe at the outlet stores on Labor Day because she's a giant.  Or just getting older.  Also, she made me extremely proud yesterday when she brought home an invitation to be in her school's "gifted" class for "advanced learners".  When she handed me the teacher's note at first I thought it was for special ed services, because all of my kids have required so many special services in the past.  When I realized she was being invited into a group especially for braniac kids I was so happily proud that I started crying and my kids thought I was a complete weirdo until I told them that I wasn't really crying I had just accidentally poked myself in both of my eyes. 


This one is super excited to be in second grade.  Really.  His best friend is in his class again this year, and so is the boy we carpool with who he likes to play with after school.  Also his teacher's name is Mrs. Lemon, but she's super non-lemon-like and is totally sweet to the kids.  The only reason he looks tortured in the picture is because, "Mommy the sun is bright out here!  Mommy why do you have to take pictures?!  Mommy, aaaaaah!!  MOMMMMMMY!!!!"


And here they are all together being adorable:





And there you have it.  Back to school for another year.  But now you'll have to excuse me because I'm needed in the other room to play with some piggy finger puppets  (Number Four is obsessed with pigs and answers to the name "Piggy Queen" - not "princess" - or "your royal piggy highness").

Jul 20, 2012

the time that Netflix let me down

When I get sick I lay in bed and watch lots of Netflix.  Because that's what one is required to do when sick. This I know.

A few weeks ago I got really sick.  (Because summer is a time when illness go around.  Oh wait.  no - just for me.)  So I had to live next to my humidifier and take lots of naps and let my kids destroy my house in between rounds of video game playing. And, of course, I watched a lot of Netflix.

I was in one of my scary movie phases so I tried out a few that were obviously made with a $15 budget.

In one of the movies this guy has to stay in his apartment for 2 weeks without even stepping a foot out the door.  It only took him like a day and a half to go all psycho and start killing people and cooking his cat and stuff.  At that point of my illness I had been laying bed for a week and a half straight and hadn't even killed a single person.

I decided that particular movie was just stupid.

I also watched some movies with Vincent Price in them, because he's so creepy.  And also his hands are huge.

I don't know what life was like for him, but he was always attacking women in those movies.  I swear every time he was startled by a women the first thing Vincent Price would do is run up to her, grab her with his big scary hands, and shake the daylights out of her.  Then he'd literally toss her aside.  And the women would just take it from him without fighting back.

That just doesn't seem normal.

Netflix really needs to step it up for the next time I get sick.  Do you hear me Netflix people?  All that bad horror is totally your fault.

Jul 18, 2012

my rusty flow of life pipe is drowning me

Sometimes I feel like this:


And then I have to draw it in my notebook instead of getting actual stuff done.  And then I have to blog about it, and then explain it for you.  (Instead of getting actual stuff done.)

So that's a picture of me.  You can tell by the bad clothes and ponytails.  And I'm standing in a bricked up box.  Because in this picture, that's what it is.

And then there's a pipe that goes through the box, and regular daily life flows through it.  It's like a stream of time and chores and work and kids and dinner and all that other stuff that makes up life.  But my pipe is rusty and doesn't hold life very well, so it constantly leaks.

And then my box fills up with too much regular life. And instead of working on a drain, I just stand there in a daze.

Sometimes I feel like my box is totally full of water and I'm doggy paddling near the top sucking in that last little bit of air with just my lips sticking out of the water.  But I've been trying to cut back on stress lately.  That helps a little.

But still my box is watery.  Just full enough to be thinking, "Can't I just go back to bed?" and also, "Will my underwear ever be dry?!"

And also, there are little piranha type fishes in there, because sometimes it's not enough to be stuck in a bricked up box of slowly filling life water.  Sometimes the universe has to gnaw on you a little.  Because life is mean like that.

You know those really organized and happy people that seem so content and in control at all times?  If they were in bricked up boxes they would probably have their pipes in proper working order.  And their boxes would probably be super comfortable and dry.  And they'd probably be throwing Bunco parties and baking cheesecake in them.

Meanwhile, I'm just over here going, "Today was a success because I didn't drown."

Does anyone else feel like this?

Jun 25, 2012

childhood miseries

I'm listening to my children converse in the other room and I'm realizing that I totally forgot about the injustices of childhood.  You know, when the world is out to get you, and everyone hates you, and you're the unluckiest kid on the entire planet and possibly universe, otherwise why would your life be SO HARD?!

Two Bits is teaching the younger two the finer points of voicing the despair and unfairness of things while they pick a billion plastic baggies off the floor that they decided to throw there and then try and convince me that our giant box of baggies exploded on it's very own.

The Two Bits dramatic dialogue goes like this:

"This is the worst summer vacation EVER.  We're like slaves!  We don't even have a vacation planned, and we can't even go to Disneyland even though we're doing ALL THESE chores!!  We never do anything fun.  Our days are just filled with chores and cleaning and relaxing then more chores, and then relaxing, then watching movies, then more and more and more and more and more and more and more chores! Then we have to do MORE CHORES!!

THIS IS SO UNFAIR!!!!!"

And the whole time the little kids are just going, "YEAH!" and then repeating the "more and more and more" on que.

It reminded me of my childhood.  My sisters and I were like slaves too.  Always having to clean up after ourselves and do horrible things like vacuum the WHOLE ENTIRE living room.  And then I HAD to spend every afternoon outside with my friends.  Plus, we only got ice cream cones whenever my mom FELT LIKE IT!

Being a kid is the worst.

Jun 19, 2012

this is why friends don't like to come to our house

Opie has a friend over today.  This does not happen often.  Because we kind of scare people.  Even though I'm not even my usual scary self when other people's kids are here, just more, um, me-ish can't-be-helped scary.

Which I guess is still kinda scary.

And also my kids don't have friends over because they always get "SO BORED".  Because, all 50 billion of their toys don't ever sound like fun.  I mean, why would they?  It's not like people spent hard earned money to provide my children entertainment in plastic and blinking form or anything.

So before Opie and his friend started on the "we're SO BORED"'s I took some sheets outside and built them a tent by hanging them from our tree.  Because I'm super clever like that.  And then I thought, "HA!  They'll be busy playing here for HOOOOOURS."

Except that they were bored by the tent in less time than it took me to set it up.

So then I told them to play commandos and the tent could be their base, and once again patted myself on the back for being such a genius and all.

Except that they were bored after about 4 minutes of commandos.

So when they came to me again professing their total non-entertainment I asked them why they didn't have fun playing commandos.

"Because we just stood there and then ran around a little.  It was SO BORING."

And then I said, "Obviously you guys have no idea how to play commandos."  And then I silently reprimanded myself for having children that are so incompetent at commando playing.

So finally I handed them each a walkie-talkie.  MY walkie-talkies.  Grown up real ones that I think are awesome, because I really am a fan of playing commandos.

And then I told Opie and his friend, "You can take these outside and be super agent ninja commandos, but you have to be super careful with these, because if you break them, you will die."

Opie just shook his head like, "how many times have I hear that threat?"  But his friend was all wide-eyed staring at me.  So I kept going.

"I don't think your mom would appreciate it if you died here today.  So you guys better be really REALLY careful."  I said.

Then Opie's friend was all worried and said, "So, like, if we break them, then they start on fire, and then explode or something?!"

And then I looked at him all scary like (but normal scary, not real scary - actually just more serious like, not really scary, I promise) and I said, "No, I would just be really MAD."

I figured it would probably be good to end it at that.  But Opie had to pipe in, because, you know, kids DO THAT.  So then he told his friend, "Yeah, and if she gets really mad she'll punch us in the face and stuff until we bleed."

I seriously have no idea why my kids don't have more friends over.  Our house is SUPER FUN.

Jun 15, 2012

creepy moth

My husband is the worst moth killer ever.

I'm very good at my part of the moth killing job.  I see the moth.  I jump and point.  I yell, "It's a moth!  Get some toilet paper.  Kill it!  KILL IT!  HURRY!"

But then...

Husband takes FOREVER getting toilet paper while I have to watch the moth and wait and wait and wait.

So then, by the time Husband comes back, it has MOVED.

I really hate it when bugs move.  It's creepy.

When the moth killing is finally a go, Husband starts swinging his arms wildly.  Probably because the moth is flying at his face. I've learned to leave the room because he doesn't even care if he makes the moth go flying right at MY face.  It's rude.  And creepy.

And then most of the time he can't find the moth after he's been flinging his arms around, because it's sort of impossible to watch a moth and swing at a moth at the same time.  Or so Husband tells me.

So then I have to cower in my room and type things on my blog.  Because the moth is still at large in the other room.

**UPDATE**

Literally, 3 minutes after I hit "publish" Husband came into our room.  And he's like, "I just wanted to let you know that I caught the moth, see..."

AND THEN HE OPENED UP SOME TOILET PAPER IN HIS HAND AND THE MOTH FLEW OUT!

And then he started swinging his arms and lost it again.  In MY BEDROOM.  Where my bed is.  How am I ever supposed to sleep in there without having creepy moth dreams?!

Plus, now I'm cowering in the other room while me room is all moth-at-large-y.

Jun 11, 2012

a REAL ghost story. for reals this time.

If you haven't noticed I have this thing about ghosts.  And am slightly and sort of ish obsessed, but not really, about it.  Well, guess what?!  I have a real ghost story to tell now.  A REAL ONE.

For reals, people, REEEAL.

The other night I got in bed while Husband headed to the basement to iron his fancy clothes (because he has to wear fancy clothes to work now).  I closed my bedroom door, got in bed, rolled to face the wall, and started to nod off.

I wasn't really asleep yet though, and I left a lamp on for when Husband came back up.  Except that Husband takes a LOOOOOOONG time to iron.  Because he likes his fancy clothes to be perfection in starch.

As I laid there, not quite sleeping yet, Heavy footsteps came from the kitchen, and then into the hall.  Then my bedroom door opened - I heard the doorknob turn, I heard it creak open (old houses have creaky doors as a rule).  And then the footsteps came into my room.

I thought it was just Husband, that maybe he had forgotten something.  Because it had only been a few minutes since he went downstairs, so he couldn't have been finished.

But once he had come into the room he got really quiet, and he didn't hear him leave.

I wondered what he was doing.

But I was feeling rather lazy, so I didn't want to roll over just to see him sniffing socks or something.  But he was being way quieter than usual, and he still hadn't left the room.

I finally decided to roll over.  It had only been like maybe a minute and a half, but you know, what the heck would Husband be doing standing all quiet-like in our room for that much time when precious ironing needed done?

I rolled over while saying, "What are you do......"  Husband wasn't in the room.  No one was in the room with me.

But I had clearly heard footsteps coming toward and into the room.  I had clearly heard the door open.  In fact, the door was wide open.  I know it actually happened.  I wasn't so close to sleep that I had imagined it.

My first instinct was to freak out, but then I decided to believe that Husband had come up, grabbed something, and walked lightly -on possible tiptoes- back to the basement.  But even then, he knew to close the door behind him because I had been sleeping with a humidifier and he knows that I will beat him if he lets all my moist air out of the room.  But still, I believed it was him, rolled back over, and went to sleep.

The next morning I asked Husband if he had come up to get something after just going down to iron.  He acted confused.  So I had to put it in really specific terms like, "Did you come back up the stairs, and come into our room, about 3 minutes after you went down to iron?  Did you leave the door open?"

And guess what?

He had been downstairs starching and ironing the ENTIRE time.

And that, dear friends, means that something else had walked through my kitchen, down the hall, opened my bedroom door, and walked into the room just to stand there and watch me sleep.  Or it evaporated.  Or I dunno, something.  But it wasn't a live person, and that's what matters most in a real live ghost story.

And I didn't even make any of this up.  This time.  Pinky promise.

Jun 8, 2012

back to blogging again

So it's summer vacation.  yeeeeha.  My kids have spent their two first days of summer vacation "doing chores" which is what I told them to do.  Except that "doing chores" means "destroy the house" to the kids.  So, you know, good times.

I want to start blogging regularly again because I miss having an outlet in which I can say whatever I want.  Outlets are super.

I was actually going to start blogging regularly about a month ago.  And then all sorts of not cool happened and I just didn't feel like it.  But now it's a little less not cool, so yeah, we're good.

One awesome thing about summer vacation is that I decided to have a tradition where I rewatch Buffy the Vampire Slayer seasons 1-7.  Which is what I'm doing while I type this blog post.  Because Buffy is neato and I still love Spike.

And guess what else?  My 5 year old Monkey needs bifocals.  Yup.  BIFOCALS.  Which is the super bestest thing ever.

Also, our car broke down and then we had no car for 3 weeks.  So we rented one, because, yeah, need a car.  And it was really expensive and our whole family couldn't fit in it.  And that was part of our not cool stuff.

Oh, and also, my husband was laid off from his job, and then found another job, and also he might find a better job, and possibly we'll be moving to a different state again.

Basically, ALL YAY.

 

May 9, 2012

there was almost a murderer living in my house

It's always awesome to open the front door to a badge in the face.

A real life federal inspector thing type dude just knocked on my door.  The first thing I saw was his badge.  Because it was already at face level just waiting for me to see it first.  And I got too nervous to actually remember which real life inspector-y agency whatever he was really from.

At first I didn't let the guy come in because I feel so much safer conversing through our ratty screen door that can't even keep bugs out.

But then he told me he was doing a background check on one of the guys who lived here before we moved in and he needed our landlord's phone number.  And so I had to call Husband to get the phone number, because information like that is never handy when armed federal agents are in your house.  (Do you think he had a concealed weapon?  I didn't even think about that UNTIL JUST NOW.)

I had to call Husband twice, because he never answers when I call.  And we have this "if it's an emergency call twice" system we've been doing for years, so most of the time I just call him over and over until he finally picks up because HELLO, it's obviously an emergency or I would just leave him alone.  (Like the time he needed to speed over from work to kill a wasp in our living room - TOTAL EMERGENCY, and I think I had to call about 7 times in a row.)

So anyways, I got the phone number and gave it to him, and then I got all unflustered for one second and bravely asked what this was all for really.  I was hoping that it was because the guy had murdered someone in our house and that's why our kitchen is (possibly but probably not) haunted and we'd have to go through seances and some high speed chases to help figure it out.  But it wasn't even close to that.  Apparently the previous tenant is some kind of super Navy man and needed a top secret clearance for a mission and so they had to do a super detailed background check for the past 5 years of his life.

It's definitely not as cool, but at least he used the words "top secret".

And then when the Secret Service FBI agent for Area 51 (or whatever his title was) left I called Husband again (a couple times) so I could tell him why I needed the phone number.  And I thought he'd be all excited about my murder ghost theory turned top secret Navy mission.  But instead he chewed me out for opening the door for just "some random man".

So then I said, "He had a big SHINY badge - seemed safe to me."

And he said, "People can make fake badges, Melissa!  I bet he was just scouting out the house to see what he can steal later!!"

And I said, "This isn't the movie Home Alone.  He was just doing a background check, you know, TOP SECRET stuff."

And he said, "Your story sounds fishy to me."

And I said, "What's so fishy about having a federal inspector area 51 Navy check badge guy knock on the door?"

And then he yelled at me more about conspiracy theories and how he's going to remind me how right he is when we get robbed and possibly murdered in our sleep."

And then I said, "GOOD. BYE.  poophead."  And hung up.

I had to say poophead because I'm trying not to call him the really bad names that I think in my head.

The next time the secret service CSI murder police knock on my door I'm not even going to tell Husband, I'm just going to go on that high speed chase.

May 7, 2012

it's black!

Monkey and Number Four have been playing this really fun game with me lately.  It involves me being psychic. Which, you know, I'm totally not.

We have this ipad coloring app where they pick a picture and color the entire thing black.  And they yell, "NO LOOKING!" and hide when they do it.  Then they come back and they say, "Guess what it is?!"

And then I guess about 5 different things that are always wrong.

They just giggle, because, ha ha it's so funny that mommy can't read our minds.

And then I say, "Give me a hint."

And they say, "It's black!"

Uh, yeah?

So then I guess about 5 more wrong things that it could be.

And they giggle more - what a fun game!

Then I say, "Ok, so what is it?"

And they say, "You have to GUESS!"

giggle.

But I tell them I can't guess, so they have to color it in front of me so I can see what it is.  And then I have to act really excited and say stuff like, "Wow, I never would have guess it was yogurt - you guys tricked me!"

Then I tell them I have to get back to work, but they're already off yelling, "NO LOOKING!" ready to play another 15 rounds.

Apr 28, 2012

CRAZY head

Once upon a time I went crazy.  (Not really, this is just a fantasy of mine.)  I think it might have been the kids that finally tipped me into loopyville, or it could have been my husband's fault, or maybe it was just a general lack in fiber that did it.  I'm not sure.  (Especially since this never actually happened.)

In the height of my crazy I was out of control.  Charles Darwin might say that I lost millions of years of evolution in a matter of moments.  Carl Jung might say that I was drawing on the collective conscious of primitive man.  Jane Goodall might say that I was positively behaving ape-like.  And the neighbors might say that I was sitting on top of my roof wearing nothing but Hello Kitty underwear and a rain poncho flinging poop at passersby while swearing like a sailor.  (Maybe this can be a "choose your own adventure" type post, so you get to pick with theory you'd like to go with.)

(In this fantasy) EMTs arrived on the scene, and dodge poop while they attempt to get me off the roof.  Except that I'm super duper crazy by this point, so I'm not going anywhere.  So one guy had to sneak up behind me with a syringe while another guy distracted me with a tap dancing giraffe in a beret and knickers.  I totally fell for it too.  And I didn't even notice when the needle jabbed into my arm and plunged me into a dreamless deep sleep.

I got to spend 3 months in a drug induced happy trip.  I think I was strapped to a bed.  And I liked talking to the nurses about the butterfly robots floating above my head or the molten lava I kept in a kiddy pool in my basement to ward off evil gnomes.  (I might actually get that molten lava pool, making this post semi-true-ish.)

On the third day of May, on a gorgeous, sunny, but not too hot, afternoon I suddenly wake up.  And I'm not crazy anymore.  I'm all better.  Scratch that, I'm MORE than all better.  I am extremely well rested, I have the mental capabilities of a rocket scientist, and I have somehow lost all but 3% of my body fat.

And I think, "Man, going crazy was AWESOME".


Disclaimer: Going crazy is not actually a good thing.  Not that I would really know since I'm not even insane AT ALL.  (Last line= also a part of this fabricated story I've been telling.)

THE END



Mar 21, 2012

reinvented cooking: an inspirational post about making do with cheese

I'm always reinventing the food I create.  Not because I am a master chef with all these great ideas.  More because my food never really tastes that good to begin with, so when eating leftovers, it's really not good at all.

First I'll pull a container of food out of the fridge and the first thing I check is if it's swarming with mold.  Because sometimes I forget how old the leftovers really are, so it's a good thing that the mold reminds me that, in fact, we ate the original pot roast 2 months ago and not last sunday like I thought.

If said container of food is not fuzzy and/or blue, I decide that it's as good a lunch as any.  But then I remember how not awesome it tasted, and how nuking things in a microwave always make them taste sort of icky anyway.  And then comes my lunch altering thought:

"This would taste so much better with______________ in it." (insert condiment or food item in blank)

And the resulting lunch, is sometimes, sort of, not really, better tasting, ish.

It all really depends on what I decide to add.  Cheese, for instance, almost always makes things taste better.  Unless you're adding cheese AND strawberries.  Because, in case you didn't know, those two food items do not go together well.  (Unless we're talking cream cheese, and then you KNOW it's going to be slobber-worthy.)

Not everyone in my house is a big fan of my reinvented food.

Once I took leftover spaghetti, slapped it inside a flour tortilla with a glob of mayo, and sauteed it in butter.  I had to eat the whole thing myself, because nobody wanted to even taste it.  And that's one of my best creations.

I would give you an example of one of my worst creations, but I can't think of any right now.  Probably because they are locked up somewhere inside of my repressed memory vault. (my repressed memory vault is bigger than Scrooge McDuck's gold swimming room, and it has about 57 locks on the door.  someday I might decide to go swimming there, but I really doubt it.)

So, basically, if you ever want to have dinner with us, we should probably go out.  Especially if I'd have to whip up leftovers and I'm out of cheese.


Mar 19, 2012

crap dust gunk crud

Remember when I shattered the glass screen on my iphone?  It got fixed at this little kiosk in the mall, which seemed just fine.  But immediately after I got it back it started to trap little particles of crap behind the glass.

And then time passed.

And more time passed.

Until my phone was hoarding so much dust and gunk behind it's glass that it was ultra disgusting.  And I was almost too embarrassed to show people my awesome Tardis phone skin.

Except that I showed off my Tardis skin anyway, because I was so excited.

I would say, "Check out my super cool phone skin!"

And people would be like,"That's awesome!" 

And I would be like, "Do you know what it is?"

And people would be like, "Not really.  Is it from a book or movie or something?"

And I would be like, "You and me - we're no longer friends."

And then I would walk away.  Because, honestly, IT'S THE TARDIS.  (Someday I'm going to make my husband build me an actual Tardis to keep in our yard.  And it's going to go right next to the life size weeping angel.)

So, anyways, back to the crud under my glass....

On friday we went to that same kiosk in the mall and told them that after they fixed my phone it's been getting all disgusting, and they told us that they would clean it for free.

So then we had to waste 20 minutes at Build a Bear while it was getting cleaned.  And my kids took pretty much all the stuffed animals off the walls to give them "baths".  And we didn't buy a single thing, even though there was this adorable monkey there that I'm pretty certain my Monkey NEEEDS.

When we went back to the kiosk, the guy was like, "Uh, this is WAY worse than I thought it was.  Do you like work in a shop?  Or go near sawdust a lot or something like that?"

And then I felt kind of embarrassed so I said, "No, I just let my kids play with it a lot, and I throw it in my pocket a lot, and once I dropped it in a bowl of flour and oatmeal while I was making cookies...."  Except that I really didn't say the one about the cookies, because that kind of information is none of kiosk guy's business.

And then I didn't want to stand there anymore while the pink haired, nose ring, kiosk girl (who apparently had nothing better to do) kept glaring at me like I didn't deserve a phone if I can't take care of it.  So while the kiosk guy finished the cleaning I went into a store and bought a candle that smells like real live strawberries.

And Husband found me when my phone was ready.

And I asked him if the kiosk guy said anything about my awesome Tardis skin.

And Husband said no.  Like it didn't even matter.

Then I said, "We're never going there again."

The End.



P.S. Want to see my awesome Tardis phone skin?  (Do you still want to be friends?!)
Except I only have a 3GS, but I stole this picture from the etsy shop where I bought mine, and I think the iphone 4 makes the Tardis look even more awesome.  Does anyone want to buy me an iphone 4 so I can get the more awesome skin?  anyone.....

Mar 14, 2012

the time I got to wear an orange vest and hardhat


 A few weeks ago, I got to go on a tour of the City Creek Shopping Center in downtown Salt Lake City.  It won't be done until the end of March, but it's going to be pretty impressive.

The stores take up two full blocks with a skybridge and flagship stores for Macy's and Nordstroms.  Which might impress some of you in great amounts.  I hardly ever go shopping, so I can't muster the proper enthusiasm.  I am, however, extremely excited for the Disney Store to be there.


And, being married to an architect, I always have to look how things are designed and I've gotta say, the City Creek Shopping Center is pretty awesome.  They have retractable roofs!  Just as cool as a convertible sports car.  Except, you know, with a building.  (And therefore way more impressive.)


There's a little creek running through the whole shopping center, with real live trout in them.  So if you've spent all your money and can't afford lunch at the foodcourt, NO PROBLEM, just bring a fishing pole.  (I'm totally joking.  If you fish in their creek they'll probably get a big scary security dude, who probably used to be a professional wrestler, to drag you out in a headlock, or something.)

And check it out - I have a MOVING PICTURE of one of the fountains there (it's totally like in Harry Potter, except not really, because it's actually just a tiny video, and it's not like I can make the picture move if it were on paper):



Also, I have this really awesome picture of these guys putting up a huge building wrap:



If that were my job, I'd be dead.  I would get up there, strap myself into one of those swingy harness seats, start panicking, begin screaming and flailing about, the strap would come loose, I would pass out due to scream induced oxygen deprivation, and plummet to my death.  It's a good thing my work involves sitting on my fat butt at a computer, right?

Probably the coolest thing about the whole shopping center is the fountain they're going to have in the main courtyard.  It was designed by the same people who did the Bellagio fountains in Las Vegas.  And it's going to have water, fire, lights, and sound.  So basically it's going to be pretty sweet.

See that black rounded thingy in the bottom right hand corner?  That's the fountain. Except, much to my utter dismay, it wasn't finished yet.  Which was a huge bummer, and also my excuse to go back as soon as they open.

So yeah, come check out the City Creek Shopping Center and maybe I'll see you there.  (I'll be the one cheering and dancing around the flamey fountain while my kids hide their embarrassment behind a pillar.)

City Creek compensated me with nothing other than a tour.  And the opportunity to wear a hard hat.  That's why I said I'm not so excited about flagship stores and stuff.  If those stores would have given me something cool, like a Dolce & Gabbanna handbag for instance, I could sing their praises for years.

Mar 3, 2012

the humiliation....

So I've been thinking. It's time for me to stop being so fat and ugly. But every time I look in the mirror and tell myself to knock it off, nothing happens. I don't get it. It's like my body is just waiting for me to exercise or put on makeup or something. (Like that's ever going to happen.)

 I did something really embarrassing the other day. Again. Sometimes it seems like my like if just one humiliating moment after another. Husband and I went to see a movie. At the cheap theater. Because that's where we always go. And afterwards I had to my make obligatory "I drank a whole diet coke during that movie" potty stop.

The bathrooms at the cheap theater were designed solely to make my eyes wig out. They're completely covered in alternating black and white tiles. So pretty much when I walk into the room my eyes and my brain start arguing, and I'm left feeling disoriented and a little blind-ish.

So, the other night, when I rushed into the bathroom for that obligatory pee, I was super extra confused when I saw a dude walk in after me. But I was also in the middle of my disoriented blind-person stupid black and white tile stupor, so I had to kind of freeze and close one eye for a couple seconds so my brain could process what was going on. And then another dude came walking around the corner from INSIDE the bathroom. And that's when I realized I was the idiot that went in the wrong restroom.

I pretty much sprinted out the door and into the ladies room, but the theater was really crowded that night, and you know how popular bathrooms are in between shows, so my excruciatingly embarrassing moment was witnessed by many MANY people. So I had to hide in a stall for a little while, hoping that everyone who had seen me be an idiot were already gone.

By the time I slowly emerged from my stall, Husband said, "what took so long? I was about to send search dogs after you". And then I told him what I did. And then he shook his head in that "yeah, that totally sound like something you would do" way.

It really is time to stop being so fat, ugly, and amazingly dimwitted. Why, oh why, won't my reflection just listen when I command it to morph me into something more attractively intelligent? WHY?

Feb 24, 2012

they drugged me and took advantage of my teeth

When I arrived at the dentist today I was a little worried that after taking the loopy pills I was still extremely coherent.  So they gave me something stronger and BOY HOWDY DID IT WORK.

I remember laying back on the dentist chair and picking out something to watch on the tv in the ceiling - My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

And I remember watching the scene where they discuss sending her to Greece to find a husband, because they were making a mold of my teeth at the same time.

And then I remember waking up in my own bed in different clothes at 10:00 PM when my husband kept yelling "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!"

So basically, I can't recall ANYTHING about most of my day.  But apparently I was interacting with with everyone like crazy.  I know this because my husband was kind enough to record some of these interactions on his phone.  And I figure I might as well post them online now while I'm still a little fuzzy and thinking their funny, because by tomorrow morning I'll be thinking straight and I'm sure I'll never want them to see the light of day - which just goes to show that I make awesome decisions when drugged!

(warning: my mouth is completely numb and puffy, and I have really really really loud hiccups.  So be prepared for some ugly.)




I think future me is going to be mad at past me for posting these.  SORRY FUTURE ME, blame the drugs.

Feb 22, 2012

bow to my teeth

Tomorrow my teeth become royalty.  Because I'm getting two crowns and six cavities taken care of at the dentist.

Let me tell you how excited I am that I have reached the age of needing crowns.

SO EXTREMELY NOT EXCITED.

Except that when we were dentist shopping I deliberately chose an office that provides sedation.  I could be completely knocked out if I feel like it.  Sadly, insurance won't cover wussy sedation needs, and you know how expensive anesthesiologists are.  (If you really don't know how expensive they are I kind of hate you a little bit.  We've had way too many surgeries in this house.)

The good news is that there's a second option at this dentist's office - LOOPY PILLS.  And it's actually affordable.  So basically, I take these pills an hour before my appointment and they make me completely incoherent and tired and spacey and LOOPY.  And then when they're doing all the nasty mean dental work I can just think about baby kangaroos and what it would taste like to lick the moon.

Let me tell you how excited I am to have loopy pills.

SO FREAKING EXCITED!

I know that I shouldn't admit to this, but it's not like I've kept it a secret anyway, I loooooooove it when I get to take loopy pills.  If I had no morals or ambition or brains or sense of self worth, I would probably be a druggy.  But I do actually have all those things and know that being a druggy is really not the way to go.  Plus, it just makes it all the more fun when I'm presented with opportunities to take pills of loopishness.

The very first time (that I remember) that I got to take a strong medication was when I was 19.  And I got e coli.  And, if you didn't know, e coli is super really horrible and painful and miserable.  Luckily it happened during the one month out of that summer that I was living at my mom's house, because at 3 in the morning I had to go to the ER.  And I remember feeling like complete trash piled on top of manure piled on top of rotten fish heads.  But then they put phenergan in my IV.  And I've actually come to hate that drug because sometimes it makes me psychotic, but back then it was like yeeeeeeha

I remember laying in the ER, and it was about 4:00 AM by then, and my mom was half asleep on the chair next to me.  And the second that phenergan kicked in I was yelling, "Mom!  MOM!!  Watch this!  MY ARMS ARE FLOATING!!!  hahahahahahahahahahaha, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

Good times.

Until the drugs wore off and I went back to feeling like complete trash piled on top of manure piled on top of rotten fish heads.

So anyways, back to tomorrow when my teeth become crowned royalty, I'm thinking the only good part of the day will be temporarily fulfilling my dreams of being a druggy. And I really just hope that I don't come out of my loopocity until after the mouth deadening wears off or, better yet, friday morning.

Feb 15, 2012

amore

So yesterday was Valentine's Day.  What a lame holiday.  Think about how many roses had to die just so people could be all mushy and stupid.  LAME.

Except that I was really fighting the urge to not work during the day.  Because I had lots of work to do, but technically it was a "holiday", but not really, so does that mean I can take time off?  I wasn't sure.  But in the end my laziness won out and I walked away from my computer.

Then I did what any sane person does on such a tremendous day of love:  I downloaded a horror novel onto my ipad kindle app and started reading.

I did take a short break from the gore to make my husband some cookies and do the dishes.  Because that was my gift to him.  Which is a pretty cheap gift, but at least I didn't kill any flowers for it or anything.

And Husband was kind of late getting home because I told him that he better come bearing chocolate.  But not just any chocolate, GOOOOOD chocolate.  So he had to track down an actual chocolate store.  He ended up going to Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in Trolley Square and MAN IS THAT STUFF TASTY.

Super tasty.

So now that I'm thinking about it, my day included laziness, horror, cookies, and really good chocolate - I guess Valentine's Day isn't so lame after all...

Feb 9, 2012

I am a talented weirdo who uses googlemaps.

Tonight I was doing my most obnoxious British accent while helping the kids get ready for bed. It was pretty excellent because I was really drawing out the syllables and putting in all sorts of annoying inflections. And, of course, I was doing it at the best possible pitch and decibel level to make the average adult male's ears bleed.

Husband LOVED it.

And then when we were saying family prayers all the kids insisted sitting on me, leaving poor old daddy sitting all by himself. So after we all said amen I had to let husband know that the kids love me more than him because of my amazing talents - and I said it in my obnoxious British accent.

It's moments like those that I hope our baby monitor is being picked up by one of the neighbors, who then realize how immensely hilarious I am, and tell all the other neighbors, who then decide to throw me a party, where they present me with one of those giant checks for 5 billion dollars.

But even without the cash, it's worth it just to bug the husband and teach my kids how to be huge weirdos.

Husband has been bugging me with all his conspiracy theories lately, so he really deserves all my obnoxious accents. Lately his big thing is that the government is spying on us. As in US, or mostly just him, in particular.

We have conversations that go like this:

Husband: I think the government is going to come after me.

Me: I doubt they're really all that concerned with some random guy who spouts politics on facebook.

Husband: Seriously though, they could be listening to our conversation RIGHT NOW.

Me: Well then, I hope they like hearing this burp. beeeeeelch.

Husband: Do you hear that helicopter?! What if it's for surveillance?

Me: If you turn into that guy in the movie A Beautiful Mind I'm totally sending you to psychiatric hospital, and then I'll collect all your Social Security checks and buy myself candy.

Husband: So you would lock me away and then accept government money for it?!!

Me: You betcha.

He also has this big thing against Google right now and gets mad every time I use it (so I use it a lot, being the natural button pusher that I am). Plus he keeps trying to use Bing, which is just rubbish - especially their maps.

So then our conversations go more like this:

Husband: Let me look up that address. What?! This can't be right.

Me: That's because you're on bing again, just googlemap it.

Husband: No, we can't support google - they're trying to take over the world. They spy on EVERYONE!

Me: And all that spying has guaranteed really accurate maps - thanks google!

I remember when google earth first came out. Husband thought it was the coolest thing ever. And he had to come home and show me it's utter awesomenicity. And then it did that wooshy zoomy thing, and I about barfed all over the computer.

That zoomy thing makes me motion sick every time I see it. Which is weird because I don't get motion sick. Plus I finally went and saw Breaking Dawn the other day, and I did t even have a seizure at the end of it. So really it doesn't make any sense at all. But if Husband ever realizes that google earth is the best punishment for obnoxious British accents, I'm in pretty big trouble.

Feb 3, 2012

zombiepocolypse song

Have you heard this song?



First of all, I have to say that the video is GROSSSSSSSS. Body hair - eeeew. EEEEEEEEEEEW.

But what I really want to say about it is that I cannot get it out of my head.  Ever.  It's just stuck in there on constant repeat like that song from Lambchops: "this is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on my friend.....".

Part of the not getting out of my head thing is due to the fact that Husband is seriously obsessing over it.  It's the only song he's ever downloaded from itunes to his phone.  And he plays it over and over and over.

I've known my husband for almost 11 years, and do you want to know how many times he has obsessed over a song?

NEVER.  ever.

So I have this theory that the song actually contains subliminal messages.  And my theory says that the messages are actually two tiers deep.  (I've put a lot of scientific brain thought into this - since I'm so super science-y and stuff.) 

The first tier makes the human population want to listen to the song as much as possible.  For instance, that youtube video of the disgusting body hair?  It's been viewed over 59,000,000 times.  That's FIFTY-NINE MILLION!  Which is just super crazy, even if you factor out the grossisity of their painted nakedness.

The second tier is buried a lot deeper, so only our most inner psyches absorb it.  And each time we hear the song, it programs our brain more and more.  And since we're already being brainwashed into listening to it as much as possible, you know our brains are getting good and infected.

I haven't quite figured out what the second tiered subliminal message says. But I am pretty sure it's how the zombiepocolypse is going to start.

Speaking of the zombiepocolypse (I have to pat my own back for that really great intro to this equally awesome plug) I started a second Etsy shop called Dorky Prints.  And I'm testing the waters now, but if it goes well then Elesa from Ahem is going to be my partner, and we're going to rule the world's walls with our amazing dorky prints.  Except that I've only had one sale and I'm feeling like a total loser pants.  So if you know anyone that is dying to have an 8x10 print that looks like this:


Then send them on over to order.

And also let me know if any of you feel a little peckish for some human brains after hearing that song - I'm not really sure how advanced the whole zombiepocolypse has progressed in the general public, but you might want to stab out your ear drums and then get your food storage ready.

Jan 27, 2012

a house? what? maybe?

I keep getting emails from realtors for some reason.  But Husband and I haven't really discussed the idea of buying a house for months.  Mostly because the houses here are all tiny, ancient, and expensive, so why bother?  Except a couple nights ago, instead of sending another realty email in the trash, I OPENED IT.

And then I saw a bunch of tiny, ancient, and expensive houses.

But then I kept looking. 

I did one of those searches where you put in only the areas that you're considering and I accidentally put in the wrong area without realizing it.  And then...

THEN....

I FOUND   i t .

"It" being a really inexpensive house with the right amount of space and yard and garage and potential.  And even though it's not in the area that Husband likes, it's not really that far away at all.  As in, it will take him 15 minutes to drive to work instead of 7.

So I got all crazy obsessed with it and checked everything out about the house and the neighborhood online, and then I texted my friend who sells real estate and made her find out more about it.  And then my friend, my husband, and I went and looked at it.

IT WAS SO SCARY INSIDE.

We took our kids with us, but had to lock them in the car for fear of their safety.  The listing online had said that the house "only needed flooring and paint".  NO.  It needs much much much more than that.  The floors were littered with mouse poop and mud and dog pee, and  really gross unidentifiable stuff.  The walls had layers and layers of grody nastiness (and lots of sharpie) on them.  Doors and windows were broken throughout the house.  There was something resembling a blood stain coming out of the bottom of the fridge door and floor around it.  The bathrooms......ugh, the bathrooms.

Basically, it is 157% unliveable.

BUT

I super love it.  Not the nastiness, of course, but the house.  The structure and yard and floorplan and neighborhood and price are amazing.  In my daydreams I'm hiring a hazmat crew to go in and rip out all cabinets, appliances, bathrooms, lighting fixtures, doors, etc. and then SUPER MEGA CLEAN everything.  And then my daydreams evolve into me picking out all the flooring and paint and kitchen and all the other STUFF and getting exactly what I want and then living in it and being happy.

And you want to know a secret?  My daydreams might actually come true because we put an offer in on it last night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  (<--those would be overly excited exclamation points.)

And now here's the part where I ask you all to tell everyone you know (literally, EVERYONE) to buy stuff from Green Jello with Carrots, and my etsy shop, or my digital scrapbook designs at MyMemories.  Because we need to pull off some kind of humongous miracle and get a downpayment saved.  (It only has to be a small downpayment - but when you're talking house, even a "small" amount is insanely a lot.)

When I'm in my new house (you know, once it's liveable) I'm totally having a party and you're all invited!

Jan 19, 2012

late at night

My brain has decided that it will only sleep between the hours of 4AM and noon.  And it doesn't matter how much my tired body complains, or how early I am required to get out of bed in the morning, my brain simply refuses to let sleep happen. 

I think I've stayed up late working one too many nights and now my brain is just hardwired for the no sleeping thing. 

Plus, Husband's snoring has been reeeeeally bad lately.  You know how some people call snoring "sawing logs"?  He's singlehandedly taking down a giant Redwood forest.  And how am I supposed to sleep in the same bed as a huge mutant chainsaw?  Especially when he's facing my side of the bed.  Because then, not only is he loud, but he also BREATHES on me.  I really can't handle it when people breathe on me.

The other night I was super exhausted but it was only midnight, so the plan was to read until I got tired.  And I had a free self-published chick lit novel all cued up on my ipad, so that's what I read.  I didn't have really high hopes for it, because, you know, it was free self-published chick lit, but the synopsis said it had ghosts in it and you know how I can never refuse ghosts.

IT WAS THE DUMBEST STORY EVER.

The main character was every stereotype rolled into one person.  She was an independent, strong willed push over, who was self-rightesouly shallow and intelligently naive.  Also, she was the optimal height, skinny, bronzed and amply chested.  And of course she was above things like makeup, but deemed a local beauty.

Like most chick lit, she was on the verge of social flat line when suddenly she had to choose between two equally gorgeous and emotionally similar men.  Except that one of these men was A GHOST.  Which would have made an semi-interesting plot line, if the author had thought to develop the plot at all.

It went like this:

She moves into a cottage on the seaside.  A ghost forms in front of her.  He's shirtless.  She goes, "Woah, you're a ghost."  He says, "Yes, I hang out here a lot."  They have a few awkward conversations that involve in no way how dumb it is that she's talking to a ghost about deeply personal topics that had no prelude whatsoever.  One night the ghost realizes he can touch her.  In a matter of half a sentence everyone jumps to the wild assumption that this means he coming back to life.  She freaks out and runs away.  The ghost disappears forever.

Her other love interest was a wealthy business tycoon that had broad shoulders, icy blue eyes and chiseled abs.  Of course he had a undeniable reputation of being a horrific womanizer, which he denied constantly.  He forces her on a date, then man handles her, then yells at her, then shoves her into the ocean after she tells him it's her biggest fear, then forces her to stay in his mansion.  But she loves him anyway because he has a secret albino daughter, and once he bought her an expensive dress, and because his chiseled abs are just too hard to refuse.  And then they get married.  The end.

I read the whole book in one insomnia-liscious night.  And it really wasn't worth it. 

I wish I could just sleep.

Also, I want to write my paranormal romance mock-novel more than ever now.

Jan 17, 2012

bathroom mirrors

You know how in scary movies there's always that bathroom scene where someone is getting ready for bed, and they open their vanity mirror to grab their toothbrush or antipsychotic medication or whatever, and then when they swing the vanity mirror closed there's a ghost or an axe murderer or a giant insect behind them?  I can't even tell you how many times I think about that on a daily basis. 

It's because my bathroom mirror looks like this:

Except we made our landlord replace the mirror with something less GRUNGING SINCE IN 1930.  So for two weeks it actually looked like this:


Which temporarily helped me with my seeing-a-ghost/axe murderer/giant insect-behind-me-every-time-I-close-the-mirror phobia.  However it was a humongous pain in the butt every time we wanted to actually see our reflections.

So anyways, I'm kind of tired of being freaked out every time I need to open and close that thing.  Except the lack in storage space in that bathroom is way more scary than the thought of seeing a ghost/axe murderer/giant insect so I still use it.  Plus also, I heard that if you have your toothbrush sitting out within 4 feet of a toilet, every time you flush you're basically giving your mouth a feces shower.  And our bathroom is only about 5 inches big, so I HAVE to keep my toothbrush behind the mirror with a bunch of other stuff I use on a daily basis.  Which means I have to open and close that thing like 15 times a day.

If I ever actually see a ghost/axe murderer/giant insect one of these days I will probably faint. 

And since our bathroom is only 5 inches big there's really nowhere to fall without smacking your head on something. 

So, most likely, I will die of head trauma and blood loss if I faint. 

And if I die, I think I'm going to haunt people by showing up in their bathroom mirrors, because how much fun would that be?!

Loads of fun, I tell you.  LOADS.

Jan 12, 2012

where to begin...

So much has happened since I last blogged that I feel like I should back track and write 50 posts about it or something.  Except that I don't really want to.  And you probably don't want to hear most of it anyway, so I'll just give you bullet points of the biggish stuff:

• I worked a lot in November/December.  And that's all I'm saying about that boring subject.

• Two Bits was in a Christmas ballet, and she was pretty amazing.  And gorgeous, as usual, see:


Except this picture was taken during the dress rehearsal when she put on her own lipstick.  IT WAS ALL OVER THE PLACE.  Eight year olds and red lipstick - it's just funny.

• I got a kidney stone.  Another one.  And I went to the dr this time so I could get drugs.  And they made me pee in a cup.  And if you're my facebook friend, you'll probably remember that I mentioned the color of my pee.  So, yeah, that was exciting.

• I celebrated my 10 year anniversary.  And we actually did something for a change.  We drove to Midway Utah, and watched tv in a condo for 2 days.  And I worked a little while we were there.  And we went to a store called "All That Stuff in the Barn".  And then my kidney hurt.  It was a MAGICAL celebration, I tell you.



• Christmas happened.  All the kids were pleased with their crap.  And my husband gave me a really awesome high-definition camcorder thingy.  It's about the size of my iphone, except that it records awesome videos (unlike my iphone).  And I love it.  And also I got a toaster with FOUR slots.  I KNOW.  It was a pretty good Christmas.

• I passed my kidney stone.  AND it only took me 2.7 weeks this time instead of the full month last time.  AND I have extra pain killers left.  Which is pretty much the coolest.

• I got a hair cut.  It is now slightly shorter than it was. And the lady who cut it was crrraaazzzy.

• I went to a wedding.  My brother-in-law got married.  Look, I have a picture:


What, did you think the picture would be of my brother-in-law?  (You're weird.)  This was taken at the END of the day, and boy were my kids CRANKY.

• New Years happened. whoopie.

• I had a birthday.  And I celebrated by being lazy ALLLLL DAY.  Except that was also the day they decided to cut down the enormous tree in our front yard.  So I pretty much spent the day fearing for our lives when they kept dropping huge branches on our roof.  But it was ok because I distracted myself with Hulu and Netflix and the 4000 K'nex I bought "for the family" for Christmas.  The kids were like, "Make a giraffe Mom!"  So I did:


It pretty much took the entire afternoon/evening, but it was basically AWESOME.  Don't believe me?  Here's more pictures:


See how it's taller than my first born child?  YEAH.  awesome.  And I didn't even have a pattern or instructions or anything - I just used my amazing brain and it's impressive understanding of children's toys.

• All this week I've had the stomach flu.  And everyone was like, "What if you're pregnant?!"  And then google told me horrible stories about women getting pregnant with an IUD.  And then I threw up some more.  But today I'm starting to feel better.  So, you know, PHEW.

And that's pretty much all I've done since I last blogged.  My life was just one thrilling and action packed event after another.  I'm surprised someone didn't hire a camera crew to follow me around just to document it all.  That would have made for some exciting reality tv (especially that part about the color of my pee).