I just found this post hanging out in the "drafts" section of my blog and thought I'd go ahead and post it... It was written in 2009. Remembering how life was for me just a couple of years ago makes me smile... Because now I can take a 5 minute shower with minimal consequences. Hooray.
I'm sure that most of you know what "Twittering" is, but I've just recently learned about it. If you don't, here's the definition according to Wikipedia:
Twitter is a social networking and micro-blogging service that allows its users to send and read other users' updates (known as tweets), which are text-based posts of up to 140 characters in length. Updates are displayed on the user's profile page and delivered to other users who have signed up to receive them. Senders can restrict delivery to those in their circle of friends (delivery to everyone being the default). Users can send and receive updates via the Twitter website, SMS, RSS (receive only), or through applications such as Tweetie, Twitterrific, and Feedalizr. The service is free to use over the web, but using SMS may incur phone services provider fees.
I don't have any interest in doing it, but if I did - here's what you might have read today:
- Jennifer is stirring her coffee with a baby spoon.
- Jennifer is trying to remove a penny from her CD player.
- Jennifer is changing a poopy diaper.
- Jennifer just found a moldy cheerio in the couch cushion.
- Jennifer is wondering if she'll get to take a shower today.
You get the point.
Riveting.
Fascinating.
Who wouldn't want to read that stuff?
Showing posts with label randomness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label randomness. Show all posts
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Friday, May 28, 2010
too much month at the end of the money
You know it's the end of the month when...
I resort to using the spare change jar for my Sonic drink money.
and these to get a free cup of coffee.
You're killing me.
You're really killing me.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Santa's Day Job
We took Charlie and Avery to their first college basketball game last night.
Charlie was mesmerized by the sights and sounds.
I was mesmerized by this man:
You can't see him super well because I was trying to be sneaky about taking his picture, but I'm pretty sure it's Santa. With a rockin' braided rat tail.
Oh yeah.
That's niiiice.
(Hmmm...I hope my Paparazzi skills don't land me with a giant lump of coal in my stocking this year...)
Charlie was mesmerized by the sights and sounds.
You can't see him super well because I was trying to be sneaky about taking his picture, but I'm pretty sure it's Santa. With a rockin' braided rat tail.
Oh yeah.
That's niiiice.
(Hmmm...I hope my Paparazzi skills don't land me with a giant lump of coal in my stocking this year...)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
why ask why?
Why is talking to yourself considered a bad thing, but humming to yourself considered totally normal?
Why can't someone give Michelle Duggar some new shoes?
Why are french fries so good? And why can't I stop eating them?
Why does watching "The Biggest Loser" make me want to stuff my face?
Will I ever get the guts to paint my armoire (a.k.a. Big Brown)?
Why won't my kid sleep in her own bed?
Why is Dora's t-shirt so tiny?
Why can't my floor stay clean?
Why do I feel compelled to buy this pink swiffer - despite the fact that I already have one?
Why won't people leave me the heck alone about P90X? Yeah, it's great. Yeah, it's awesome. Yada yada yada...blah blah blah.
Why does my Dave Ramsey Envelope money always run out before the end of the month? The last week of the month lasts forever....
Why can't someone give Michelle Duggar some new shoes?
Why are french fries so good? And why can't I stop eating them?
Why does watching "The Biggest Loser" make me want to stuff my face?
Will I ever get the guts to paint my armoire (a.k.a. Big Brown)?
Why won't my kid sleep in her own bed?
Why is Dora's t-shirt so tiny?
Why can't my floor stay clean?
Why do I feel compelled to buy this pink swiffer - despite the fact that I already have one?
Why won't people leave me the heck alone about P90X? Yeah, it's great. Yeah, it's awesome. Yada yada yada...blah blah blah.
Why does my Dave Ramsey Envelope money always run out before the end of the month? The last week of the month lasts forever....
Monday, October 12, 2009
Welcome to Stepford
My sister goes to a big southern university. It's the kind of southern that's steeped in tradition, big hair, lots of make up and designer jeans. It's the kind of southern where men still stand when a lady walks into the room, and where people seriously salute when "Dixie" is played.
Seriously.
It's the kind of southern where HUGE, palatial mansions with sprawling front porches are disguised as Sorority Houses.
A school where all the boys have hair just like this:
and the girls look like Pageant Time Barbie.
At football games.
And at lunch.
And when they're just hanging out.
They may be wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but they're in full make-up, dang it.
Cause that's how Old South University girls do.
So - you can imagine the trepidation I felt when my mom asked my very un-blonde-old-navy-jean-wearing-mother-of-two-self to join her for Bid Day at the Old South University of Beautiful People.
Because I love my sister...and because I was curious...and because I seriously wanted to check out those monster sorority houses, I agreed.
Ya'll. I've never in my 32 years seen anything like what I saw that day.
Let's just take a little tour, shall we?
Here you'll see Monster House #1:
Equipped with massive front porch and millions of fabulously decorated rooms.
I was told that this house is one of the largest in THE COUNTRY. (that's the U.S.A, people)
Monster House #2
Lovely, right?
Monster House #3
Notice the MILLIONS of people lining the streets.
They included not only the girls receiving Bids from Sororities that day, but their boyfriends, aunts, uncles, moms and dads, sisters, dogs, and next door neighbors.
There were at least 20 more houses just like those at the university.
As the time came for the girls to accept their bids, the active members of the sororities started pouring out of the houses in their matching t-shirts and perfect hair.
Then, at exactly 2:01 pm, the crazy started.
In the distance, a tiny blur of a girl with tear-stained cheeks and a crumpled piece of paper in her hand came running down the hill from the Union Hall.
She ran all the way to one of the sorority houses where a screaming mass of girls were waiting to squeeze her to death.
Minutes later, a literal deluge of college freshman girls came running down the hill to ear-shattering shouts and screaming from the hundreds of people lining the streets.
It. was. crazy.
People were screaming and crying, and crying and jumping up and down, and crying and dancing... and crying.
ca-razy.
Added to the volume of millions of screaming girls was music blasting from a D.J. booth at every sorority house. That's 20+ D.J.s with 20+ sound systems. Playing 20+ different songs. At the same time.
Wow.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate Sororities. In fact, some of my most treasured memories of college life were spent as a member of a Sorority. I loved my sorority.
But I went to a very different university from Old South University.
My Bid Day was totally different. Let's just say, it was a little more understated. Make that a lot more.
My sister's Bid Day took place in an alternate universe of beautiful people and massive houses set in a quaint, picturesque Mayberry town. And I want to live there.
Just take a look at the inside of this mansion that my sister gets to live in a couple of years:
Oh how I love my sister.
But I'm a little jealous too.
Enjoy La-la Land, My Love.
Enjoy it.
Enjoy it for me.
Seriously.
It's the kind of southern where HUGE, palatial mansions with sprawling front porches are disguised as Sorority Houses.
A school where all the boys have hair just like this:
and the girls look like Pageant Time Barbie.
At football games.
And at lunch.
And when they're just hanging out.
They may be wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but they're in full make-up, dang it.
Cause that's how Old South University girls do.
So - you can imagine the trepidation I felt when my mom asked my very un-blonde-old-navy-jean-wearing-mother-of-two-self to join her for Bid Day at the Old South University of Beautiful People.
Because I love my sister...and because I was curious...and because I seriously wanted to check out those monster sorority houses, I agreed.
Ya'll. I've never in my 32 years seen anything like what I saw that day.
Let's just take a little tour, shall we?
Here you'll see Monster House #1:
Equipped with massive front porch and millions of fabulously decorated rooms.
I was told that this house is one of the largest in THE COUNTRY. (that's the U.S.A, people)
Monster House #2
Lovely, right?
Monster House #3
Notice the MILLIONS of people lining the streets.
They included not only the girls receiving Bids from Sororities that day, but their boyfriends, aunts, uncles, moms and dads, sisters, dogs, and next door neighbors.
There were at least 20 more houses just like those at the university.
As the time came for the girls to accept their bids, the active members of the sororities started pouring out of the houses in their matching t-shirts and perfect hair.
Then, at exactly 2:01 pm, the crazy started.
In the distance, a tiny blur of a girl with tear-stained cheeks and a crumpled piece of paper in her hand came running down the hill from the Union Hall.
She ran all the way to one of the sorority houses where a screaming mass of girls were waiting to squeeze her to death.
Minutes later, a literal deluge of college freshman girls came running down the hill to ear-shattering shouts and screaming from the hundreds of people lining the streets.
It. was. crazy.
People were screaming and crying, and crying and jumping up and down, and crying and dancing... and crying.
ca-razy.
Added to the volume of millions of screaming girls was music blasting from a D.J. booth at every sorority house. That's 20+ D.J.s with 20+ sound systems. Playing 20+ different songs. At the same time.
Wow.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate Sororities. In fact, some of my most treasured memories of college life were spent as a member of a Sorority. I loved my sorority.
But I went to a very different university from Old South University.
My Bid Day was totally different. Let's just say, it was a little more understated. Make that a lot more.
My sister's Bid Day took place in an alternate universe of beautiful people and massive houses set in a quaint, picturesque Mayberry town. And I want to live there.
Just take a look at the inside of this mansion that my sister gets to live in a couple of years:
Oh how I love my sister.
But I'm a little jealous too.
Enjoy La-la Land, My Love.
Enjoy it.
Enjoy it for me.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
something I like to call ingenuity
Look at this guy.
Look closely.
How's that for creative and thrifty?
Wowza.
Yes. This is a view from our window.
Yes. I am a total spy.
But in my defense, he's eating his lunch in my front yard.
So, He's pretty much asking for it.
Anyway - back to the real issue here:
Do you see what he's got there?
It's a hot plate attached to a camping kerosine burner thingy.
Seriously, y'all.
Impressive.
Come on, take another look.
We watched him make his bean burrito on our front lawn.
Something tells me this guy knows all about Dave Ramsey and the envelopes.
Look closely.
How's that for creative and thrifty?
Wowza.
Yes. This is a view from our window.
Yes. I am a total spy.
But in my defense, he's eating his lunch in my front yard.
So, He's pretty much asking for it.
Anyway - back to the real issue here:
Do you see what he's got there?
It's a hot plate attached to a camping kerosine burner thingy.
Seriously, y'all.
Impressive.
Come on, take another look.
We watched him make his bean burrito on our front lawn.
Something tells me this guy knows all about Dave Ramsey and the envelopes.
Friday, June 12, 2009
the rules of fashion
So the other day I was perusing the clothing in Target when I stumbled upon these:
Yes. They ARE bloomers.
No. I wasn't in the children's section.
They kinda look like these, don't 'cha think?
A little fashion rule I like to follow: If my 2 year old owns it, I probably shouldn't.
Well...I say that, but come to think of it...
I do own this little handy guy (which I made myself. with my SEWING MACHINE. I'm just sayin'):
and it does slightly resemble this:
In fact, I'm pretty sure that the table full of college kids sitting next to us at dinner the other night thought I was wearing exactly that.
So --new rule:
If my 2 year-old owns it, I probably shouldn't.
Except gigantic bibs. Those are fine.
Yes. They ARE bloomers.
No. I wasn't in the children's section.
They kinda look like these, don't 'cha think?
A little fashion rule I like to follow: If my 2 year old owns it, I probably shouldn't.
Well...I say that, but come to think of it...
I do own this little handy guy (which I made myself. with my SEWING MACHINE. I'm just sayin'):
and it does slightly resemble this:
In fact, I'm pretty sure that the table full of college kids sitting next to us at dinner the other night thought I was wearing exactly that.
So --new rule:
If my 2 year-old owns it, I probably shouldn't.
Except gigantic bibs. Those are fine.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
214 reasons to floss
2
number of children I've had since my last trip to the dentist
0
number of dental insurance policies that we own.
2
x-rays I should have refused to get
1
scary drill
1
jab in the gums
2
questions asked while someone's hands were in my mouth.
3
times I clenched my fists in pain.
3
cavities discovered.
214
dollars spent
1
near anurysm that I had when we forked over the $214 for the bill.
4
pairs of shoes that I COULD have bought for $214.
2
hours spent doing something terribly UN-fun
1
lousy toothbrush
1
mini toothpaste
1
container of dental floss
0
fun toys, plastic rings, or suckers. because being a grown-up STINKS.
Just in case you ever wondered what a $214 tooth cleaning looks like:
Lovely, huh?
At least the toothbrush was pink. That's something.
number of children I've had since my last trip to the dentist
0
number of dental insurance policies that we own.
2
x-rays I should have refused to get
1
scary drill
1
jab in the gums
2
questions asked while someone's hands were in my mouth.
3
times I clenched my fists in pain.
3
cavities discovered.
214
dollars spent
1
near anurysm that I had when we forked over the $214 for the bill.
4
pairs of shoes that I COULD have bought for $214.
2
hours spent doing something terribly UN-fun
1
lousy toothbrush
1
mini toothpaste
1
container of dental floss
0
fun toys, plastic rings, or suckers. because being a grown-up STINKS.
Just in case you ever wondered what a $214 tooth cleaning looks like:
Lovely, huh?
At least the toothbrush was pink. That's something.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
irony
My life is full of it.
In fact, my life is so jam-packed with irony that I'm bathing in it.
Literally.
I've got the pictures to prove my point.
Prepare yourself. It's not pretty.
ARGHHH!
EEEEEEK!
NOOOOO!
Make it STOP!
It's not the horrific mold or the water stains that makes my blood run cold...
It's not the ancient tub caked with soap scum and other unidentified whatnot that gives me the shivers...
It's not even the cracks in the green 80's tile that scares the mess out of me.
As scary (and slightly embarrassing) as mold, 80's tile, and soap scum can be, they pale in comparison to the (I can hardly write it) FISH tiles on the wall.
For a girl who HATES fish, abhors fish, can't STAND fish -- having FISH tiles in the ONLY bathroom in the house is the textbook definition of Irony.
Did you catch that we only have ONE bathroom?
One.
One shower with disgusting fish tiles.
I haven't taken a bath since we've moved here.
A bath in our house would mean that a normally relaxing time would turn into a radical exposure therapy session for me.
No thanks.
I think I'll stick to showers.
Showers mean that the freaky fish aren't at eye level.
Showers mean that I can try to ignore the fact that the nasty, gross, fish tiles are less than a foot away from me.
Go ahead, laugh at me, but there's a name for my disease people.
It's a real thing. I googled it, so it has to be true.
It's called Ichthyophobia.
According to Wikipedia:
Ichthyophobia is a variety of a specific phobia which is an intense and persistent fear of fish, described in Psychology: An International Perspective as: an "unusual" specific phobia.
See?
It's real.
I'll bet you feel like a jerk for laughing now, huh?
I know it's ridiculous... I know... but I've seriously considered painting over those tiles until we can manage to replace them.
The problem is that Avery really likes the fishy tiles.
It's looking like as long as Finding Nemo is on her favorite Movie List, there will be no relaxing bubble baths for Mommy.
The sacrifices of motherhood. Will it ever end?
In fact, my life is so jam-packed with irony that I'm bathing in it.
Literally.
I've got the pictures to prove my point.
Prepare yourself. It's not pretty.
ARGHHH!
EEEEEEK!
NOOOOO!
Make it STOP!
It's not the horrific mold or the water stains that makes my blood run cold...
It's not the ancient tub caked with soap scum and other unidentified whatnot that gives me the shivers...
It's not even the cracks in the green 80's tile that scares the mess out of me.
As scary (and slightly embarrassing) as mold, 80's tile, and soap scum can be, they pale in comparison to the (I can hardly write it) FISH tiles on the wall.
For a girl who HATES fish, abhors fish, can't STAND fish -- having FISH tiles in the ONLY bathroom in the house is the textbook definition of Irony.
Did you catch that we only have ONE bathroom?
One.
One shower with disgusting fish tiles.
I haven't taken a bath since we've moved here.
A bath in our house would mean that a normally relaxing time would turn into a radical exposure therapy session for me.
No thanks.
I think I'll stick to showers.
Showers mean that the freaky fish aren't at eye level.
Showers mean that I can try to ignore the fact that the nasty, gross, fish tiles are less than a foot away from me.
Go ahead, laugh at me, but there's a name for my disease people.
It's a real thing. I googled it, so it has to be true.
It's called Ichthyophobia.
According to Wikipedia:
Ichthyophobia is a variety of a specific phobia which is an intense and persistent fear of fish, described in Psychology: An International Perspective as: an "unusual" specific phobia.
See?
It's real.
I'll bet you feel like a jerk for laughing now, huh?
I know it's ridiculous... I know... but I've seriously considered painting over those tiles until we can manage to replace them.
The problem is that Avery really likes the fishy tiles.
It's looking like as long as Finding Nemo is on her favorite Movie List, there will be no relaxing bubble baths for Mommy.
The sacrifices of motherhood. Will it ever end?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
overheard
Avery: Gunner. Yook at me. Yook at me in the eyes. Soppit. I said soppit right now.
Gunner: (blank stare).
This is not the first of the bossy phrases that Avery has uttered as of late. It seems that she is destined to follow in her Mother's footsteps; I was quite the tattle-taler and bossy britches in my day.
If I don't watch it, I can STILL be a little bossy.
Just ask David.
One of my earliest tattle-tale moments happened after being called a "midget" in Kindergarten. When I told the teacher what I was called, she made ME sit out during recess for tattling.
Still a little bitter about that one.
Recent behavior indicates that Avery may have a moment or two like that in her future elementary school career as well.
_____________
By the way - I've been super sad lately because my computer is sick. I have no internet. NONE. It's like I'm living in the Dark Ages.
Or worse -- the early 90's.
I don't like it one bit.
The Dark Ages stinks. Really bad.
We're taking the computer to the MAC store tomorrow. Hopefully, things will be up and running again soon. I'm missing my blogging buddies. I don't even want to know how many unread posts my Google Reader has on it now... I'm a little scared.
On the up-side, I've made my bed 2 days in a row. That in itself has to be some kind of record. It's turning out that less internet time means more cleaning time. I might even get all crazy and stuff and clean out my fridge this week.
I've really got to get my computer fixed before I get to comfortable in 1992 and start doing things like listening to "Mmmm Bopp" or jamming out to The Spice Girls while scrubbing the toilet and starching my jeans...
Gunner: (blank stare).
This is not the first of the bossy phrases that Avery has uttered as of late. It seems that she is destined to follow in her Mother's footsteps; I was quite the tattle-taler and bossy britches in my day.
If I don't watch it, I can STILL be a little bossy.
Just ask David.
One of my earliest tattle-tale moments happened after being called a "midget" in Kindergarten. When I told the teacher what I was called, she made ME sit out during recess for tattling.
Still a little bitter about that one.
Recent behavior indicates that Avery may have a moment or two like that in her future elementary school career as well.
_____________
By the way - I've been super sad lately because my computer is sick. I have no internet. NONE. It's like I'm living in the Dark Ages.
Or worse -- the early 90's.
I don't like it one bit.
The Dark Ages stinks. Really bad.
We're taking the computer to the MAC store tomorrow. Hopefully, things will be up and running again soon. I'm missing my blogging buddies. I don't even want to know how many unread posts my Google Reader has on it now... I'm a little scared.
On the up-side, I've made my bed 2 days in a row. That in itself has to be some kind of record. It's turning out that less internet time means more cleaning time. I might even get all crazy and stuff and clean out my fridge this week.
I've really got to get my computer fixed before I get to comfortable in 1992 and start doing things like listening to "Mmmm Bopp" or jamming out to The Spice Girls while scrubbing the toilet and starching my jeans...
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Attention Zoo Patrons:
Welcome to the zoo. We hope that you enjoy your visit.
In order to make your trip more comfortable, we have a few suggestions.
First,
Clothing should be comfortable and cover at least 50% of your body. Preferably, the most important parts.
Next,
Shoes should be...um... not 4 inch heels.
Try some flat shoes.
Tennis Shoes. Ballet flats, even. Just make 'em flat.
Remember, you are going to be doing a lot of walking.
A lot.
Under no circumstances should a guest EVER wear something like this to the zoo:
Thank you and enjoy your day.
In order to make your trip more comfortable, we have a few suggestions.
First,
Clothing should be comfortable and cover at least 50% of your body. Preferably, the most important parts.
Next,
Shoes should be...um... not 4 inch heels.
Try some flat shoes.
Tennis Shoes. Ballet flats, even. Just make 'em flat.
Remember, you are going to be doing a lot of walking.
A lot.
Under no circumstances should a guest EVER wear something like this to the zoo:
Thank you and enjoy your day.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
find a penny
This is what the CD player in my car says when someone shoves a PENNY into it.
The real problem is that the penny doesn't seem to want to come back out. Either does the Raffi CD that is spinning around and around... and around in my CD player.
Guess who is currently listening to Raffi non-stop?
Lucky me.
If I hear "The More We Get Together" one more time I may have to be institutionalized.
Gotto Go...
Off to google "how to remove a penny from CD player"
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
drama, drama, drama
I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I'm seriously addicted to a certain soap opera (notice that I said only slightly).
I've been watching it since David and I moved back to our hometown 2 years ago. When we first moved back, we had a house in Ohio that we needed to sell. While waiting to decide whether we should sell it or rent it out, we lived with my mother-in-law.
That's when I got hooked. and I mean hooked.
I realize that my show is a little silly and TOTALLY unrealistic, but I watch it anyway.
Every. Day.
Don't anybody interrupt me while my "story" is on . Someone WILL get hurt.
I find it to be the perfect show to craft to. You don't have to be a genius to understand the plot (after I watch LOST, I feel like my brain could possibly explode). In fact, you don't even have to listen the whole time to keep up. It's perfect for the sleep-deprived multi-tasker.
The other day, while I was drying my hair (when ALL good ideas seem to come to me), I started thinking about all of the re-occurring themes of my show -and just for kicks, did a little number crunching.
You may be TOTALLY bored by this.
You probably ARE bored by this.
I, however, think it's fascinating and I can think of at least 2 people who will agree with me.
You know who you are.
This is what is what I came up with:
Deaths - 7
People are dying like CRAZY on this show. Not regular, old-age deaths, but crazy, horrible deaths: Sudden, dramatic, plot-twisting deaths.
You don't want to live in this town, people. Not at all.
Living in this town means you are likely to do something like fall off a cliff, become trapped in a collapsed building, imprisoned by your evil twin, or FROZEN IN A LAKE.
Births - 2
One baby was born to a woman in A COMA and one without an epidural in a LOG CABIN.
Did I mention that the second baby was born without an epidural?
Just before I started watching this show, another baby was born in an elevator.
I'm guessing no epidural there either.
The writers MUST be men.
Children who miraculously turned into teenagers overnight - 3
Really.
Really?
REALLY???
a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g
"Hi, welcome back from your super-long trip/ two-month long summer camp/ boarding school. You grew SO much while you were gone!"
Barf.
Crazed psychos - 2
I know.
Just 2.
That one surprised me.
People who've had amnesia or memory loss - 3
Conveniently, all amnesia victims were restored to their original fabulousness after a few short weeks.
Dopplegangers - 3 (!)
Times I thought that I would have said the word "doppleganger" before 2 years ago - 0
My friends think that I made up the word "doppleganger". I didn't. It's a for-real word. It means "evil twin" or something...
Don't you just love it?
It may be tricky to find creative ways of incorporating it into my everyday life, but I plan on using it at least once a week from now on.
People who came back from the dead or returned from the grave in some way - 4
Yep. FOUR.
Most of these were people who appeared as visions or something random like that (Another very important reason why living in this town isn't such a good idea).
People hospitalized - 7+
Danger. Lots of danger. Grand-Scale danger.
Danger like fires, car crashes, falling off ladders, drunken driving, falling through frozen lakes, airplane crashes, pieces of large buildings landing on heads, facial burns from poison-laced facial creams, and so on...
Times one of the main characters was jailed - 7
People on my soap spend a lot of time in jail, but never seem to fill out their entire sentence. Hmmm.
____________________
When I was a little girl, soap operas were just about the dirtiest thing on T.V. Admitting that you watched a soap meant that you were guaranteed to receive more than one very disapproving look.
My addiction may cause some to think that I'm at best a little "spiritually delayed", but the way I see it - these days, soaps are way more tame than what you can see on a typical night of regular television. That being said, I still don't think I'm brave enough to call up my second grade sunday school teacher to tell her the news.
Nope. Definitely not that brave.
I've been watching it since David and I moved back to our hometown 2 years ago. When we first moved back, we had a house in Ohio that we needed to sell. While waiting to decide whether we should sell it or rent it out, we lived with my mother-in-law.
That's when I got hooked. and I mean hooked.
I realize that my show is a little silly and TOTALLY unrealistic, but I watch it anyway.
Every. Day.
Don't anybody interrupt me while my "story" is on . Someone WILL get hurt.
I find it to be the perfect show to craft to. You don't have to be a genius to understand the plot (after I watch LOST, I feel like my brain could possibly explode). In fact, you don't even have to listen the whole time to keep up. It's perfect for the sleep-deprived multi-tasker.
The other day, while I was drying my hair (when ALL good ideas seem to come to me), I started thinking about all of the re-occurring themes of my show -and just for kicks, did a little number crunching.
You may be TOTALLY bored by this.
You probably ARE bored by this.
I, however, think it's fascinating and I can think of at least 2 people who will agree with me.
You know who you are.
This is what is what I came up with:
Deaths - 7
People are dying like CRAZY on this show. Not regular, old-age deaths, but crazy, horrible deaths: Sudden, dramatic, plot-twisting deaths.
You don't want to live in this town, people. Not at all.
Living in this town means you are likely to do something like fall off a cliff, become trapped in a collapsed building, imprisoned by your evil twin, or FROZEN IN A LAKE.
Births - 2
One baby was born to a woman in A COMA and one without an epidural in a LOG CABIN.
Did I mention that the second baby was born without an epidural?
Just before I started watching this show, another baby was born in an elevator.
I'm guessing no epidural there either.
The writers MUST be men.
Children who miraculously turned into teenagers overnight - 3
Really.
Really?
REALLY???
a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g
"Hi, welcome back from your super-long trip/ two-month long summer camp/ boarding school. You grew SO much while you were gone!"
Barf.
Crazed psychos - 2
I know.
Just 2.
That one surprised me.
People who've had amnesia or memory loss - 3
Conveniently, all amnesia victims were restored to their original fabulousness after a few short weeks.
Dopplegangers - 3 (!)
Times I thought that I would have said the word "doppleganger" before 2 years ago - 0
My friends think that I made up the word "doppleganger". I didn't. It's a for-real word. It means "evil twin" or something...
Don't you just love it?
It may be tricky to find creative ways of incorporating it into my everyday life, but I plan on using it at least once a week from now on.
People who came back from the dead or returned from the grave in some way - 4
Yep. FOUR.
Most of these were people who appeared as visions or something random like that (Another very important reason why living in this town isn't such a good idea).
People hospitalized - 7+
Danger. Lots of danger. Grand-Scale danger.
Danger like fires, car crashes, falling off ladders, drunken driving, falling through frozen lakes, airplane crashes, pieces of large buildings landing on heads, facial burns from poison-laced facial creams, and so on...
Times one of the main characters was jailed - 7
People on my soap spend a lot of time in jail, but never seem to fill out their entire sentence. Hmmm.
____________________
When I was a little girl, soap operas were just about the dirtiest thing on T.V. Admitting that you watched a soap meant that you were guaranteed to receive more than one very disapproving look.
My addiction may cause some to think that I'm at best a little "spiritually delayed", but the way I see it - these days, soaps are way more tame than what you can see on a typical night of regular television. That being said, I still don't think I'm brave enough to call up my second grade sunday school teacher to tell her the news.
Nope. Definitely not that brave.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
it stings just a bit...
My eyes started to tear up as we did this.
No, I'm not kidding.
It made me seriously ILL to have to do the deed.
It's not even that I even use it that much. In fact, I hardly ever get to carry it in my wallet (a fact that has quite possibly saved my marriage more than once). It's just that I'm going to miss the option of being able to carry it in my wallet.
This means that the stupid Envelope System is definitely happening.
Dave Ramsey has backed me into a financial corner.
I'm not feeling the peace.
In fact, I'm feeling a little peeved right now.
Good Bye old friend.
I'll miss you.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
priorities.
The Laundry Mountain is slowly creeping into every crevice of our itty bitty house.
My car looks like a McDonald's-filled Pinata exploded in the back seat.
The Dust Bunnies in Avery's room have been around so long that we've named them.
There's a potentially award winning sixth grade Science Fair project growing in my microwave.
It's bad. Really bad.
Life with a toddler and a newborn leaves very little room for doing anything but meeting their immediate (and frequently requested) needs.
Chores are just NOT a priority right now.
Evidently, SLEEPING isn't a priority either.
What IS a priority is survival. I've learned to function pretty well with little to no sleep and have finally perfected the "whip out a pan without being pummeled by the avalanche of pot lids" move. Maybe I'll make it after all.
Meanwhile, I've got tons of craft project ideas floating around in my head and NO time to do them. I'm having serious crafting withdraws. Just looking at my lonely little Mod Podge bottle gives me the shakes. It's very, very, very sad.
Another very, very, very sad thing is the fact that THIS GUY is ruining my life:
David and I are taking the Financial Peace Seminar at our church for the next few weeks. We've been to 3 classes now and I'm starting to think that Dave Ramsey might be evil.
Darn his "Budget Plans", "Envelope System", and "Live like no one else" mantra. All that fancy schmancy talk is just code for "NO FUN."
He's seriously cramping my style.
Before you feel the urge to tell me how wonderful he is and how I'll "appreciate all this later", keep in mind that I need a moment to mourn the loss of my credit card before I can see things your way.
I'm sure I'll be fine.
Eventually.
My car looks like a McDonald's-filled Pinata exploded in the back seat.
The Dust Bunnies in Avery's room have been around so long that we've named them.
There's a potentially award winning sixth grade Science Fair project growing in my microwave.
It's bad. Really bad.
Life with a toddler and a newborn leaves very little room for doing anything but meeting their immediate (and frequently requested) needs.
Chores are just NOT a priority right now.
Evidently, SLEEPING isn't a priority either.
What IS a priority is survival. I've learned to function pretty well with little to no sleep and have finally perfected the "whip out a pan without being pummeled by the avalanche of pot lids" move. Maybe I'll make it after all.
Meanwhile, I've got tons of craft project ideas floating around in my head and NO time to do them. I'm having serious crafting withdraws. Just looking at my lonely little Mod Podge bottle gives me the shakes. It's very, very, very sad.
Another very, very, very sad thing is the fact that THIS GUY is ruining my life:
David and I are taking the Financial Peace Seminar at our church for the next few weeks. We've been to 3 classes now and I'm starting to think that Dave Ramsey might be evil.
Darn his "Budget Plans", "Envelope System", and "Live like no one else" mantra. All that fancy schmancy talk is just code for "NO FUN."
He's seriously cramping my style.
Before you feel the urge to tell me how wonderful he is and how I'll "appreciate all this later", keep in mind that I need a moment to mourn the loss of my credit card before I can see things your way.
I'm sure I'll be fine.
Eventually.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
daveisms
Tonight David and I were watching The O'Reilly Factor (which he DVR's. Yes. That's correct. He DVR's The O'Reilly Factor) when a commercial for the new Andrea Bocelli CD came on.
The commercial reminded me of one of the funniest things that Dave has accidentally said to me during our 8 years of marriage.
_________________
Remember all the crazy media coverage from Tom and Katie's wedding a year or so ago?
What's that? You have a life?
Bragger.
Well evidently, I don't - because I know some RANDOM facts about Tom and Katie's wedding, their beautiful little alien baby, Suri, and their crazy Scientology beliefs.
Facts that could only be gained by watching sinful amounts of entertainment news shows and reading countless covers of celebrity gossip magazines while standing in line at Target.
One of those facts is that Andrea Bocelli sang in their wedding.
Of course. Why wouldn't he?
Sassy Pants.
During the Media Frenzy of that time, I wasshamelessly adding to the stalker-vision ratings gaining factual information on some lame-o entertainment show when footage of the famed Bocelli popped up on the t.v. screen.
That's about the time that David walked through the room.
He took one look at the T.V. and said,
"Man. That guy is HAMMERED."
After picking myself off of the floor, I said, "He's not drunk! He's BLIND, you big dork!"
Hee, hee.. Even now, months later... it makes me laugh.
Oh, Dave. I love you.
The commercial reminded me of one of the funniest things that Dave has accidentally said to me during our 8 years of marriage.
_________________
Remember all the crazy media coverage from Tom and Katie's wedding a year or so ago?
What's that? You have a life?
Bragger.
Well evidently, I don't - because I know some RANDOM facts about Tom and Katie's wedding, their beautiful little alien baby, Suri, and their crazy Scientology beliefs.
Facts that could only be gained by watching sinful amounts of entertainment news shows and reading countless covers of celebrity gossip magazines while standing in line at Target.
One of those facts is that Andrea Bocelli sang in their wedding.
Of course. Why wouldn't he?
Sassy Pants.
During the Media Frenzy of that time, I was
That's about the time that David walked through the room.
He took one look at the T.V. and said,
"Man. That guy is HAMMERED."
After picking myself off of the floor, I said, "He's not drunk! He's BLIND, you big dork!"
Hee, hee.. Even now, months later... it makes me laugh.
Oh, Dave. I love you.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
party pooper
Remember this?
This is the recycling bin from my neighbor's house. It's been full like that for almost a year.
At first, I thought that maybe our young neighbors were just a little...lazy. I mean, they really haven't been loud or crazy since we've lived here.
Until last night.
Last night, everything changed.
Last night, we discovered the real reason for the overflowing bin.
Listen, if you are going to party, do it. Whatever. I'm not your Momma. I'd just appreciate it if you would do it WITH YOUR FRONT DOOR CLOSED.
That's a pretty reasonable request, right?
While I'm asking, here are some further questions I'd like to know the answers to:
1. Is it WISE to throw a loud, crazy party when you live in a sleepy little neighborhood full of old people and small children?
2. Is it SMART to slam beer bottles into your overflowing recycling bin when a grumpy pregnant lady is trying to sleep next door?
3. Is it PRUDENT to scream expletives near a pastor's sleeping toddler's window?
Before last night, I would have thought that the answer would have been quite obvious. I guess not.
First, David and I laid in the bed praying that the loudness would miraculously cease.
After that, we complained about the noise to each other while staring at the ceiling.
Then, we peeked out the window to watch the show a few times (3 words: White Boy Dancing. It looked like the poor guy was having a seizure).
I actually WISH the dancing had been as cool as that video...
It wasn't.
Finally, at 2 AM, we began to weigh our options:
1. Crazy pregnant lady's husband politely asks party people to quiet it down and gets decked by a party person.
2. Crazy pregnant lady waddles over and decks a few party people.
3. Crazy pregnant lady brow-beats husband until he agrees to call the cops.
We went with option #3. We figured that it was probably the kindest, most reasonable option.
I think that we finally got to sleep at 3 this morning. Sad isn't even the word for how I feel right now.
I'm thinking that I may have to pay them a visit at 3 am one morning while baby Charlie is screaming for his morning feeding and see how they like that.
Who am I kidding? No one deserves that kind of punishment.
This is the recycling bin from my neighbor's house. It's been full like that for almost a year.
At first, I thought that maybe our young neighbors were just a little...lazy. I mean, they really haven't been loud or crazy since we've lived here.
Until last night.
Last night, everything changed.
Last night, we discovered the real reason for the overflowing bin.
Listen, if you are going to party, do it. Whatever. I'm not your Momma. I'd just appreciate it if you would do it WITH YOUR FRONT DOOR CLOSED.
That's a pretty reasonable request, right?
While I'm asking, here are some further questions I'd like to know the answers to:
1. Is it WISE to throw a loud, crazy party when you live in a sleepy little neighborhood full of old people and small children?
2. Is it SMART to slam beer bottles into your overflowing recycling bin when a grumpy pregnant lady is trying to sleep next door?
3. Is it PRUDENT to scream expletives near a pastor's sleeping toddler's window?
Before last night, I would have thought that the answer would have been quite obvious. I guess not.
First, David and I laid in the bed praying that the loudness would miraculously cease.
After that, we complained about the noise to each other while staring at the ceiling.
Then, we peeked out the window to watch the show a few times (3 words: White Boy Dancing. It looked like the poor guy was having a seizure).
I actually WISH the dancing had been as cool as that video...
It wasn't.
Finally, at 2 AM, we began to weigh our options:
1. Crazy pregnant lady's husband politely asks party people to quiet it down and gets decked by a party person.
2. Crazy pregnant lady waddles over and decks a few party people.
3. Crazy pregnant lady brow-beats husband until he agrees to call the cops.
We went with option #3. We figured that it was probably the kindest, most reasonable option.
I think that we finally got to sleep at 3 this morning. Sad isn't even the word for how I feel right now.
I'm thinking that I may have to pay them a visit at 3 am one morning while baby Charlie is screaming for his morning feeding and see how they like that.
Who am I kidding? No one deserves that kind of punishment.
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