Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Everyone Else Is Doing It...

That is my cat, Sweetie. I did not name her that and I really do not like cutesy names for pets. I prefer food or historical figures for names so I try to call her Sweet Tea when possible. She came to us at 5 and now she is nearly 12. As you can see, she is huge and eats loads.

When we got her, we were told she was fixed and lived all of her life indoors. When we first moved to our town home, she was desperate to go outside. As soon as we let her out, she ran straight into the Compost Woods. My husband and I were terrified because we thought we had lost her forever. My father-in-law couldn't stop laughing at us shouting into the trees for her because he said that "cats always find their way back home". She did find her way back home a few hours later and now spends 75% of her time in those woods.

For a spayed cat, she gets around. I have personally witnessed her having relations with two toms. The sit under our box window and cry for her at night. I thought that once animals are sterile they are not interested in adult activities, but apparently Sweetie is the exception to the rule. Whatever makes her happy, right? At least I never have to worry about litters of kittens.

Sweetie is a magnificent huntress. She generally will eat the majority of her kill. Sometimes there will be a stray eyeball on the sidewalk or a jawbone, but she really likes eating it all. I'm relieved because I'm not too fond of cleaning up carcasses. She goes after big game like rabbits and raccoons and most recently has been stalking our werewolf.

*Just as an aside, apparently there is a new bald fox in our woods. I'm not sure if this is true or just a figment of my husband's imagination. I will have to see it for myself because that will mean two werewolves, one knocked up and one hairless. The undead party continues to grow in the Compost Woods.

My cat is that mostly hates kids. She and my son have a distant civil relationship, but Sweetie with my daughter is a bad mix. My daughter can't seem to leave her alone and instead of running away, Sweetie will box the hell out of my kid's face. I hate to say it, but sometimes my own pet is on my flip off list.

She is strangely devoted to my husband. She drinks the drops of water leftover from the bath. She sleeps next to him and gets angrily possessive if anyone gets near him. He thinks that she is a wife from a former life.

I figure people like cats. Masses of people follow blogs about cats so this is my pathetic attempt to garner more readers. I may or may not be joking about this. There is nothing remotely adorable about this cat and I think that people prefer blogs about adorable cats. She's a sex maniac, a consummate hunter, and a vicious hater of children. I guess I'm rather proud of her and maybe you'll hear from Sweet Tea again.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Your Weekly Horoscope (Book Divination Edition)

*I will be using the timeless classic Little Women to help divine your fortune this week. I will randomly place a finger on a line and it is up to you to apply it to your own life.

Capricorn: I nearly betrayed myself by a laugh.

Aquarius: He always managed to save himself by frank confession.

Pisces: The bright color faded as quickly as it came.

Aries: He had been graver than usual of late.

Taurus: She was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend.

Gemini: She sincerely meant to write nothing of which she should be ashamed.

Cancer: Sakes alive, well I never!

Leo: The weather was in an undecided state which is more exasperating than a steady pour.

Virgo: Cherished like a household saint in a shrine.

Libra: He sprang forward to enter, but the specter plucked him back.

Scorpio: He could never be anything to me but my brother.

Sagittarius: Dance a hornpipe!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Sunday Funny


Saturday, June 27, 2009

When Ant Hills Attack

Ant Hill Pictures, Images and Photos
I've always had issues with ant bites. They get huge and blistery. If I get too many, I start feeling nauseous. Even if I come in contact with dirt from an ant hill, my skin starts to itch. I figure that they have their saliva all over those mounds and my body just can't handle it. It's not that I want to be able to handle ant saliva, but it still is an annoyance.

My house in Georgia had huge ant hills in the front yard. Normally I avoided the area, but there was one day I did not even think about them. My neighbors' nephew, Edgar, was visiting from Mexico. He was older and very attractive. He spoke no English, but he was always out in the street in front of my house playing baseball with his cousins. I was constantly trying to get his attention. I will admit there was a topless streaking incident, but that did not work out so well.

I had a new plan. I decided that I would show off my gymnast skills. I am klutzy by nature and have no such skills. I started trying to do cartwheels and tumbling in my yard in front of Edgar. He never really noticed. I just kept trying even harder. Eventually, I cartwheeled my ass right into the anthill. I pretty much busted that mountain of hell right open and the ants swarmed. I started shrieking and running and trying to brush the angry ants off of my legs. I was wearing my trademarked short shorts so they had plenty of flesh to bite. In all the pain and terror, I saw that Edgar finally was looking at me. It was for the wrong reason, but it was better than nothing.

My legs were a hot, scary mess. I've never had so many bites in my life. It was all oozing flesh and internal sickness. I wrecked my body all for a strange boy who couldn't care less about me! I couldn't really blame the ants, I destroyed their universe. I could only blame my boy-crazy self. I think that was probably the last time I tried to do a cartwheel and the last time I tried to show off for some stupid boy.

Friday, June 26, 2009

First Love

The picture above is my very first album. It contains the image of the first singer I ever loved, the first music I ever knew, and some of the best dancing of my life. When I was three, I fell madly in love with Michael Jackson. I was convinced that I would marry him. I had the Thriller album cover on a key chain and I used to rub my finger over it all the time. I was trying to will him out of the plastic and into my life.

One of my proudest moments was introducing this album to my son and having him immediately love it too. Even at three, he knew it had the best songs of any record I had ever played. There is not one song that isn't perfect in its own way. My kids and I still listen to Thriller every week. We watch videos of it on YouTube. Dancing with them to that album brings back my own childhood and I'm grateful I can share it with them.

My heart broke yesterday when I heard the news of Michael Jackson's passing. I did not want to believe it. I'm generally not overly sentimental about celebrities, but this is an icon that gave me an appreciation of great music and a joy for movement. My son is old enough now to understand death and he said quite succinctly "He really is a zombie now. Huh, Mommy?"

At night, the kids and I watched videos on MTV and just enjoyed the music. They danced, I tried to cry quietly. I will mourn for this musical legend taken too soon, but whether he is a spirit or zombie, his legacy still lives on in a generation that I created. My kids and I will still continue to put that record on and dance. I think it would be the greatest thanks I could ever give to him.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Zombie Kids

zombie kids Pictures, Images and Photos
Since I became a parent, I've noticed a phenomenon in most American children: they are zombies. I'm not talking about flesh-eating monsters out of horror flicks, but more like tranquil beings that can sit in shopping carts, strollers, baby story time for insanely long periods of time. It's as if these kids were born with some kind of time release, never ending capsule of Valium Jr. hidden inside their little brains. From the moment they are born until the time they hit Kindergarten, they are able to be carted about anywhere and can just sit or stand still at any given moment of the day. They sleep easily and play quietly by themselves. Parents can shop, they can watch movies, they can wait in doctor's offices, they can go to worship services, they can just plop their kids down anywhere at anytime and know that those kids aren't moving and you won't hear a peep out of them! I never would have noticed this marvel of the gene pool if I hadn't born two children as far from zombies as you can possible get. As un-PC as it is to say, my kids are wild.

I bore feral twins four years apart. They are energetic, boisterous, crazy, stubborn, and unrelenting in their need to live life. From extremely early in the womb, I could feel manic kicking and rolling. They never, ever stopped moving. They both came into this world very alert and active, both had nightmare colic, hated to be confined, and needed to be held and walked until they could run on their own. They are fearless and extroverted, willful and animated. They love people and running and screaming and jumping and crashing. While other little babies can sit in a stroller while their mother shops, mine screamed to be let out of the straps and then took off doing laps around the stores crawling until they could walk. When I need to go grocery shopping, my daughter demands to be removed from the seat so that she can skip down the aisles singing We Will Rock You. (She isn't quite 2) When my son is in the house, he jumps from couch to couch, banging on walls, making horribly loud noises. He's never still and his sister is never still. I had a deja vu moment at baby story time in the spring when my daughter decided to jump up and dance in front of the room. She waved and called for attention. There were thirty kids in the room all sitting zombie-like on their parents' laps, there were even zombie twins! I tried to get her to sit, but red faced I had to leave, like I did with her brother only 3 years earlier.

I wonder where these children come from almost everyday. I am an introvert. I hate people. I am quiet and sedate. I would be happy in a cave with a pile of books. Why didn't my genes create a zombie child? What are the odds that I would have not one, but two wild kids? I have to admit that I am frustrated more often than I am delighted. The constant motion and noise of the two wear me out. Trying to run errands with kids running in two different directions is trying. Watching other kids sitting placid in their strollers, ambling casually next to their parents eats me up with envy. What did they do to have an easy parenthood?

I am happy to have spunky, creative, interesting, and animated children. My daughter is like a mini genius with her words and my son is very coordinated and savvy. Some parents give me a dirty look when my kids go up to play with their children uninvited, but once I had a mother thank me for my son because her child has autism and never engages with other children, but somehow was playing with mine! I am delighted that they are part of a thriving world that I am now fearful as an adult to enter. They never worry about what other people think, they just do. If they are displeased with something, they let everyone know, they don't keep it festering inside. As much as I would like some zombie moments, I am proud of my spirited twins. They get along famously and one day will rule the world together, galloping and hollering the entire way.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Would You Rather Wednesday

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The Blogging Process

I know that my millions and millions of readers are very curious to know exactly how I work my magic in this blog. I thought I would give the step by step process so that your curiosity is sated.

Step 1: You cut a hole in a box.
Step 2: You put your.... I'm sorry. I guess my blog process is not like D*ck in a Box.

Step 1: (Brainstorming) I often space out when I'm watching the kids so that's a great time to generate new blog ideas. Rotting on the floor is another creative process that I encourage in myself. I sometimes bounce ideas off my sister and have her fill in the gaps of our illicit past.

Step 2: (Writing) I write in the evening in my little spiral notebook. I know it's weird and old school, but I like how using a pen makes you think. I also love looking at my own handwriting. All of my excellent school essays were usually handwritten and then typed up while listening to Dave Matthews.

Step 3: (Blogging) I get up at the ass crack of dawn and sneak downstairs. I type, edit, and look for the requisite images. Hit post and hope I don't regret what I've written too much.

Step 4: (Envying) I look at and read other blogs. Lament that I'm a loser and that my blog is lame. Marvel at how many shitty blogs have loads of followers/ads/comments. Cry me a river. I also check to make sure a certain popular blog is not thievin' my ideas again.

That's about it, the mystical process. I know this blog is a little off and generally makes no sense, but I appreciate every single person that takes the time to click on over here. I like doing it so I'll keep on doing it until I run out of thoughts in my crazy head.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Your Weekly Horoscope (Ipod Shuffle)

*I believe that fortunes can be told by random song selection. Allow me to shuffle my Ipod and find out what is in store for you this week. Since I often listen to cheesy, lame and/or unheard of songs, you may need to look up the lyrics for optimum horoscope understanding.

Capricorn: Don't You Forget About Me (Simple Minds)

Aquarius: Discotheque (U2)

Pisces: Split Screen Sadness (John Mayer)

Aries: Dance Into The Light (Phil Collins)

Taurus: Gotta Go On My Own Way (High School Musical 2)

Gemini: The Old Apartment (Bare Naked Ladies)

Cancer: They Dance Alone (Sting)

Leo: Throwing It All Away (Genesis)

Virgo: The Girl Is Mine (Michael Jackson)

Libra: White Wedding (Billy Idol)

Scorpio: What Goes Around...Comes Around (Justin Timberlake)

Sagittarius: Again (Janet Jackson)

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Sunday Funny


Saturday, June 20, 2009

When Animals Attack: Canadian Goose

CANADIAN GOOSE Pictures, Images and Photos
This is actually a more recent attack story and one I'm not likely to forget for years. It happened last summer when I was taking the kids for a walk around the Beaver Pond at a nature preserve. It was a nice day and we were picking blackberries. I had my youngest in her Baby Bjorn. We went over to look at the water and see all the little fish swimming around when I heard this very strange hiss. My first thought was: cobra. After realizing that there aren't cobras in my neck of the woods, I did a quick turn and saw a Canadian Goose rapidly approaching us from around the corner. I saw rage in it's beady little eyes.

I've never been fond of this creature. They come in huge flocks and leave shit everywhere. I tried to listen to Ralph Nader speak in college and there were hundreds of them squawking and partying while I was trying to listen to the loudspeakers at the campus pond. They walk in my neighborhood like they are entitled to it all. So with all this hatred for them festering inside me, I wasn't happy to see one coming straight at me and my kids now.

I told my son quietly to start walking quickly, but calmly. Of course, being nearly 5, he bolted off saying "Run for your lives!". I picked up a stick on the ground and had one eye on that feathered demon and one eye on the path ahead. Eventually this goose couldn't walk so fast so he slipped down into the water to stalk me aqua style. He was still following me with the blackest look I had ever seen. I kept one arm protectively around my baby and the other firmly on my makeshift weapon. Was I prepared to stab this bird in the neck? Yes.

Some people were now on the path coming towards me and I told them that there was an enraged Canadian Goose after me and that they should leave. They just laughed, but I wondered how much English they really understood especially with me shoving all those frantic words together. That stupid bird didn't even give them one look, but continued to speed after me.

Eventually we got out of the Beaver Pond area, into the woods. The goose decided to stop the chase, I guess. My son was dancing around, happy as a clam in July. This near avian death experience was exciting for him. All my thoughts were focused on how dangerous those birds can be and that I had children with me. It's one thing to be a foolish kid and mess with wild animals, but it's another to be surprised by one as a rational adult who generally leaves animals alone. I am still grateful that bird decided not to fly at us, just chase us away.

I learned later that I probably got too close to a nest that I didn't see and the goose was just protecting it. Whatever the reason, I now both hate and fear the Canadian Goose, and yes, it's definitely on my flip off list. I just flipped off a whole family crossing the road just the other day!

Friday, June 19, 2009

White Trash Recipe of the Week

Peppa Pig Pictures, Images and Photos
Variations on Pork Chops
*I've got two easy and exciting ways to make pork chops!

Pork Chops Smothered in Corn

4 Pork Chops (get the ones with the bones)
1 Can of Cream Corn

Preheat oven to 375. Depending on your laziness level you can precook the pork chops in a frying pan. It makes the dish tastier and reduces baking time. Place the pork chops in a large casserole dish and smother in cream corn.

Bake time: 20 minutes if already fried
50-60 minutes uncooked

Pork Chops Drowning in Applesauce

4 Pork Chops
1-2 cups of applesauce depending on how apple-y you would like this dish.

Lazy, don't fry. Either way, place pork chops in casserole dish and drown in applesauce.

Same bake times as creamed corn variation.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

What Your Operation Piece Says About You!

operation Pictures, Images and Photos
I know that when you play the game Operation, you're supposed to take out the ailment based on the card you select, but you know you have one piece that you secretly prefer. One piece that gives more of a thrill than any of the others, especially when you extract it with out the scary buzzing. Whether you admit it or not, you're always hoping to get that one card and tweeze out that Funny Bone or Charlie Horse. You don't have to confess to me, but feel free to find out what your piece means in terms of your personality. (I may or may not love Water on the Knee).

Adam's Apple: You like to put yourself in complicated situations without realizing it.

Wishbone: You are very responsible, but somewhat kinky.

Broken Heart: You don't give a shit what people think about you!

Writer's Cramp: You chase aimlessly after windmills.

Spare Ribs: You are seriously boring.

Funny Bone: You are so traditional in your views it can be scary.

Butterflies in Stomach: You follow all the rules, but hate doing it.

Bread Basket: You lack imagination and you don't even want to have one.

Charlie Horse: You live for competition, but have asshole tendencies.

Water on the Knee: You are extremely weird, but most interesting.

Anklebone connected to the Knee Bone: You are horrifyingly stubborn and single minded.

Wrenched Ankle: You like goals that are attainable, you don't reach very high.

Brain Freeze: This is a new piece added to the game, if you choose it, you don't act your age. You need to like the old school pieces and not be ashamed of the past.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Would You Rather Wednesday?

*Don't let my intense loathing of whales skew your voting in any way.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Giving Up The Ghost

daisy dukes Pictures, Images and Photos
I've already admitted that cursing is my first love, but I have another that comes in very close second; daisy dukes. You can call them short shorts or hot pants, but either way they've been part of my life for nearly 20 years. The first time I cut some jeans dangerously short, it was thrilling. I felt saucy and surprisingly comfortable. I knew I could never go back to long hideous shorts again.

In Georgia, most young girls wore them. Not only to look awesome, but to help keep yourself cool. You could nearly wear them year round. Ride your bike down the street with the barest of legs. Burn yourself on the electric box while sitting and flirting with boys. Figure out super stealth ways to pull them down for hall monitors, conveniently hiding your ass crack with your backpack because they were so low. These shorts were more than clothing, they were a way of life.

Even the gym teachers wore them. We even had a little ditty for one particular teacher.

Coochie Cutters
Coochie Cutters
Why, Tanner, Why?

It wasn't particularly inventive, but it was catching.

Much to my husband's chagrin, I kept wearing my short shorts up until this last year. Suddenly I put some on this spring and didn't feel right. I was shocked and dismayed at myself. What happened to me? Was I so old now, matronly and proper? If they make mom jeans surely they make mom shorts? Scarily long and puffy up top. I do like my standard mom clam diggers, but there is no way I could wear a short that could graze my knee. I would feel like a rat in a cage.

I've found a happy medium with mid thigh level as opposed to the standard under the behind. My younger self hates me for it and my old lady side is still not sure, but I have to balance somewhere. I've never been one to show cleavage, but I like to have my legs free.

It was a day of mourning when I packed up my shortest shorts and gave them to the Good Will. I could hear in the back of my head a teenage voice telling me how old and lame I was. How can I feel uncomfortable in something that I've loved so long? Do I suddenly want to seem respectable; a Gymboree Mom clone? I honestly don't know the answer. Maybe I'm belatedly growing up.

I will never forget all the good times I had running, bending down, dancing, studying, thievin', cursing, flirting, and rollerskating in my daisy dukes. I just hope that those memories will stay with me even if I can't make any new ones.