So my good karma should be through the roof today

Today Worm and I spent two hours at Chick-Fil-A.  Have I ever mentioned I'm really not that busy?

Truck was working at home, so I needed to keep Rowdy McHollerpants out of the house.  We went to a Chick-Fil-A that is not close to home, because it has the best indoor play area.  Yes, I will drive fifteen minutes out of my way to go to the good play area.  Don't judge me, I'm getting desperate for cheap ways to fill the day until the good weather kicks in.  Worm loves this play area so much that I actually get to read the whole time he plays.  If I crack open a book anywhere else he immediately is incapable of doing anything but holding my leg and yelling MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I wasn't going to eat anything, but if you can smell a Chicken Biscuit and not order one, you are made of steel.  So I asked another mom, who did not look like a baby steeler, to keep an eye on Worm and went up to the counter.

It happened to be the fast food time of reckoning, you know 10:30 a.m.  I placed my order and the lady said, "Lucky you, that was the last breakfast order!"  Then I heard a gasp behind me.  I turned around and saw a very distraught, very pregnant lady.  She actually had tears in her eyes.

I know exactly how she felt.  There is nothing more consuming than a pregnancy craving.  I used to think pregnant women just used cravings as an excuse to self-indulge.  Wow, I was a judgmental asshole!

Once, with Huck I craved Baskin Robbins Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream so badly I left work to find some.  I went crazy trying to find a Baskin Robbins within 30 miles of me.  When I found one, I ate three scoops and took two gallons home.

With Worm I wanted orange juice all the time, so that was a pretty easy craving.  But one day I wanted McDonald's chicken nuggets more than I wanted my figure back.  I went through the drive-through, bought a 10 piece and ate it before I was out of the parking lot. Seriously. No. Chewing.  Then I wanted more, but I didn't want to go back through that drive-through because I didn't want them to think I was bulimic.  I drove to two more McDonald's that day.  Thirty McNuggets in thirty minutes.

Believe me, I KNOW what that poor lady was feeling.  It was panic, mixed with bitter disappointment, with a little nausea thrown in just for fun. 

So, I did what any decent human being would do, I told her she could have the last Chicken Biscuit. 

She actually hugged me.  

And I wasn't even wearing the jacket.

So I was right again

Look what I got in the mail today.

I said I would get one.

It's exactly the same as the one before.

Clearly, R. Zachary's smoke breaks are more fun than they should be.

Again, I urge you to double check those bank statements, dear readers.

I also predict that my air conditioner will fail soon due to a loose wire and ghost bunnies will break into my house to steal my kitchen gadgets. Stay tuned to see if I am truly psychic or merely psycho.

So the dead bunnies are laughing at me

The Easter bunny brought the boys some sponge pills.  You know, the plastic capsules that dissolve in warm water and open up into little sponges shaped like animals and bugs and amoebas and shit.

They've had tons of fun watching the tiny sponges open and guessing what the creature is supposed to be (Well, Huck does that. Worm just likes to throw them out of the tub and laugh hysterically while I wipe up eleventy million tiny puddles).  I, however, have been completely freaked out by the tiny sponges and now wish I had shown the kids the dead bunnies on Easter morning rather than give them these gifts.

I think those bunnies are NOT resting in peace in my front bushes.  I think their evil little spirits are effing with me through the Easter goodies.

We did the safari animals on Monday night.  First, the ostrich was headless.  Second, the elephant was trunkless and tailless.  Third, the lion was missing a paw.  The lion is is my astrological sign, so I took it a little personally, but didn't suspect foul play by evil ghost bunnies at this point.

Tonight we did sea creatures.  At first, they weren't too bad.  The crab was a little smooshed and the shark and dolphin were virtually indistinguishable, but no parts were missing.  Things took a bad turn when we got to the whales.

There were two whales.  They both looked like whales, but different enough from each other that they were clearly different types of whale.  Huck insisted I figure out exactly what they were supposed to be.  I started to just make something up, but then I remembered that the back of the package had a diagram of the sponge types.

I picked up a tiny red sponge whale and found its shadow match on the back of the package.  "It's a killer whale!" I announced.  Then I picked up a tiny blue whale and found its shadow match on the back of the package "It's a.... um.... whale!" I mumbled.

"Mama, does it not say what kind?" asked my sweet, rule-following little boy who thinks everything always turns out fair and even.

"Um, no, it just says whale", I lied.

People, it said sperm whale.

Some weird prude girl who I have never met, crawled up from the depths of my psyche and would not allow me to say the word sperm to my son.  He's six, the word sperm is just a word in his vernacular.  There's no sexual connotation for him.  I knew all of this, but I still couldn't say it.

I think the bunnies knew I would stumble with this parenting rite of passage and changed the wording on the package just to trip me up.

 

So don't jump!

I  was surfing the net today and read an article I enjoyed about over-parenting.  The author makes a great argument for being a slacker like me more relaxed parent.  Let's all take one giant step back from the perfect parenting ledge, shall we?  If we all go together, no one is left out there being all perfect without us.

So I am urging everyone to double check their bank statements

This morning, in my quest to desperately fill the hours between 8 and 11 a.m., I went to the bank. Lately, I have been going inside to do my banking.  Yes, it's a pain to unbuckle Worm and walk at toddler pace into the bank, only to walk back out and re-buckle in five minutes, but I'm really not that busy.  Plus they don't always see Worm in the back of the dance mobile, so he gets screwed out of his lollipop.  To a kid, bank = lollipop.

When I got to the teller, I couldn't find the check I wanted to cash.  I dug through my purse and the diaper bag, but it wasn't turning up.  So I told the guy I would look for the check at home and come back later.  Back to the car, walking .25 miles per hour.  Re-buckle squirmy the wormy.  

Once in the car, I looked again for the check.  This time I found it, so we started the whole process over.

The teller sees me and says, "Wow, that was a fast trip home!"  So I say, "Yeah, we live close. You know that big dumpster behind Hobby Lobby?"

He says nothing.  Total crickets. He just gives me a funny look and starts typing on his tiny bank computer.

The transaction proceeds normally from there.  Show ID, clarify the type of bills I want, confirm that Worm can have a lollipop.  Then, as I am unwrapping Worm's lollipop, the guy starts to laugh and says, "Oh, I just got the dumpster thing! You were joking that you live close because you live in that dumpster over there."

Um. Yeah. Not funny five minutes later, dude.  To be honest, not really that funny when I said it.

Could I maybe get a copy of my last statement and a fine tooth comb?

On the plus side, there's a good chance I will be getting another thank you note soon.

So I have a complaint

I don't want wine and I'm out of beer.  I would kill for one cold beer (but not in a can ((unless it is Milwaukee's Best (((because then I could chug it like the old days ((((or, better yet, make a beer bong)))).  Clearly, I need therapy. And an editor.  And a beer.

I would call Banana and ask if she has any, but I think my lack of beer would not stir any sympathy in her. Facebook told me she had a crappy evening.  Facebook is helpful that way.

So the Colon Cleanse people are onto me

I have eaten too much candy and feel completely sick. 

So, of course, I just got another Colon Cleanse email.  This one has an even better claim than the others.  It says I can loose 20 lbs overnight!  

Seriously? 20 lbs overnight? Are they going to cut off one of my legs?  

Loosing a leg sound slightly more appealing than the way that 20 lbs is really coming off if I use their product.

So I have to stop eating candy

Dear Russell Stover,

Your peanut butter eggs suck.  Sorry for my language there. I meant, they suck ass.  I did a taste test between your peanut butter egg and Reese's peanut butter egg.  There was no comparison. Please stick to the coconut nests, they are damn tasty.  Oh and your chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies are good too.  And those chocolate cream eggs rock! 

I have to go throw up now.

Ever sincere (really, I am),

Jen

So I was molested in Wal-Mart

I have this kick-ass jacket.  I wear it pretty much every day.  It's a Mountain Hardware Windstopper.  I don't remember the exact style, if this isn't it, it's pretty close.

It's thin yet warm and cut in a flattering, close to the body, style.  Best of all, it's super duper soft.  It's like a chinchilla or good cashmere or a baby's belly ('cause their bottoms aren't always that soft).  

I'm used to the kids in Huck's class petting it.  And occasionally, someone I know will touch my arm and then their hand will just stroke it a few times without even realizing what they are doing. It's an irresistible jacket, so I've never minded.

However, today a stranger petted me.  At Wal-Mart. Excessively.

Now, I love funny little encounters with strangers. I've recounted several in this very blog.  But those encounters were all VERBAL.  Verbal, as in not encroaching on my personal space or touching me without an invitation.

Here's the story...

I was in the checkout line when a manager came over to speak with my cashier (yes, for those few minutes he was MINE, so back off) about his schedule.  Nothing in this exchange was blog worthy and it seemed as though I was going to get out of Wal-Mart with no blog fodder.  Then the manager tried to talk to Worm.  I thought that might make it into the blog, because she was more persistent with him than most people. 

Worm hates strangers.  He will not speak to anyone he doesn't know (and many people he does). He will actually turn his head away from you if you continue to acknowledge him after he has ignored you.  If you push after that, he will cry.  Seriously, just leave the kid alone.  It's not personal.  He is a baby.  Get over it.

She finally gave up on terrorizing chatting with Worm, and moved on to me.  I was about to run my debit card, so I thought it would be a quick "Did you find everything okay today", "Yes, I'm in this store three time a week. I can tell you how many blue tiles are randomly scattered on aisle four." "Um. Okay, freak. Thanks for shopping at Wal-Mart!"  Then that was supposed to be the end of it. 

Oh. No.  She noticed my jacket.  I actually saw the look on her face and knew what was going to happen a split second before it did.  She reached for me, grabbed my arm, and said "I love this jacket! Oh my gosh, it's so soft?  Where did you get it? It feels like velvet, but even softer. What does it feel like?  I can't think of that material." All the while she is stroking the entire length of my right arm.

I said "It's fleece."

Then she moved on to my back and began actually running both her hands across my back and said "We sell lots of fleece here and none of it is this soft.  Look at me, I can't stop touching it."

Seriously.  Across my upper back.  With both hands.  In Wal-Mart.  Uninvited.

Just when I was preparing for her to cop a feel, the cashier in the next aisle called her over.

I had several more errands to run after that, but I went home to put away the perishables before heading back out.  While I was home, I washed my hands and brushed my teeth.  I felt somewhat less violated after that, but I probably won't be 100% until I can get a hot shower.

So I had another great idea

Tonight I was discussing the blog with Coco and I told her sometimes strangers read my blog.  I explained that they find it by googling certain terms which coincide with the way I've worded something in a post. For example, if you google - dead rabbit in yard - you get over 200,000 results, but my blog is number six on the list.  Not too shabby, huh?  Of course, in less than 6 months of blogging, I have written two posts (click here & here if you want to read them) about hares who have gone to that big carrot patch in the sky.  So the odds are in my favor.

Anyway, thinking about the dead rabbits (yes, they are still there) gave me a great idea.  Instead of doing Easter baskets, I could just take the kids to the bushes on Sunday morning and tell them the Easter bunny didn't quite make it.

I'm brilliant, right?

Now I can eat all the candy myself, save the toys and games for their birthdays, and not have to spend hours Saturday night hiding plastic eggs all over the house.

This parenting stuff just gets easier and easier the drunker older I get.

So I am wondering about something stupid, go figure

I couldn't sleep last night.  My brain was on hyper drive, but not about anything remotely important.  Here are some of the fascinating thoughts that kept me awake last night.

• Are there any bills in the PTA basket I need to pay?  I'm the treasurer and I haven't actually written any checks in a month.  Is that normal?

• Should I get up a 5 a.m. and shave my legs or 5:30 and skip it?  I opted for 5:30, if you care.

• Are there any new shows that started this week that I meant to watch?

• Should I order the pizza's for Huck's snack day online and set the time I want to pick them up, or should I just order them 20 minutes before I want to go get them?  Big dilemma, I know.

• And my personal favorite, the thought that took thirty minutes of my life and flushed it down the crapper: what will we call next year?  This year is two-thousand nine.  Will next year be two-thousand ten or twenty ten?  
  

To my ear, twenty ten sounds better, but then twenty eleven sounds stupid, so will we switch back?  Pretty much every year until twenty twenty (because it HAS to be called twenty twenty, right?) is a toss up.  It all sounds weird - two-thousand seventeen, twenty seventeen - there's no clear winner there.

Who decides?  President Obama?  Anderson Cooper?  Paris Hilton?  If President Obama chooses, a bunch of people will say the year wrong just to drive home the point that they didn't vote for the guy.  If Paris Hilton chooses, we will end up having to pronounce it wrong and writing it with icons instead of numbers: @)!).  You just looked at the numbers on your keyboard to see if I used the right icons for 2010.  Admit it.

Anderson Cooper is my pick.  I'll start paying close attention to him in December to see which way he is leaning.  I'll let you know.

I'm going to try to get a quick nap now before I have to go get those pizza's for snack day.

So this is disjointed and full of links and I don't care

Have you seen the new Burger King commercial?  If not, click here.

It's a parody of "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-a-lot.

A lot of people think this commercial is offensive to women, sends the wrong message to kids, blah, blah, blah.  Hey, haters, isn't that what your parents said about that song when you were shaking your poop thing to it at Jr. Prom?  Get over yourselves.

I think it's hysterical.  Combining Spongebob and Sir Mix-a-lot is brilliant.  Plus, the "Booty is booty" quote at the end is genius.  I mean, Sir Mix-a-lot can testify to that better than anyone, right?

There is also a full video version if you have two more minutes to waste.  Click here for it.

However, as much as I like this commercial, I'm still not going to eat at BK.  Their burgers taste like chemicals to me.  I LOVE junk food, but I won't eat anything that tastes more like its additives than its main ingredient (the meat tastes like liquid smoke and that is some gross shit!)

We have been eating way healthier at my house, by the way.  Plus, the farmer's market just reopened, so locally grown veggies will make it back on the menu shortly.  I'll be there Saturday unless it is rainy, or windy, or colder than 60 degrees.  Okay, so I might not make it this week.

So I refrained

Went to Wal-Mart today.  Did not lick the cart handle.  Thought you would want to know.

So, seriously?

I keep getting these spam emails about Colon Cleanse.  On principle, I delete all spam without opening it (and most chains emails too, so don't forward me that stuff if you don't want the "chain broken" and the "good luck" to end).  However, on my iPhone I can see a few lines of my emails without actually opening them, so I got to see this before I hit delete:

Lose 20 pounds from your colon in three days!

Wow, that sounds so appealing.  Really.  I mean it.  I was just thinking how much I would like to spend a bunch of money and then spend three days in my bathroom.  Swimsuit season is coming up and losing 20 pounds would help me achieve that skeletal look men find so sexy. Maybe I could lose a few more pounds during my subsequent hospital stay.  Sign me up.

I have an alternative plan for anyone who wants to spend a bunch of money and then spend three days in the bathroom, but doesn't want the hassle of ordering a product online and then waiting for it to arrive.  Lick the cart handle next time you go grocery shopping.

So this is some funny stuff

I just read the funniest dad post ever.  You have to read this.

So do Huck & I know each other or what?

This morning I was making coffee when Huck got out of bed.  My eyes were half-opened and I was feeling particularly droggy.  Droggy is Truck's made up word.  It used to drive me nuts because I felt like he was just mispronouncing groggy.  But that hasn't bugged me about him in at least a decade.  He's had thirteen years to develop waaaayyyy more annoying habits. Seriously, dude, spit out chewed up fingernails in your own car all you want, but leave mine out of it.

Anyway, back to this morning.  I was not quite ready to function when Huck tiptoed in.  (He tiptoes in the mornings because I startle very easily and being startled makes me angry. Making mama angry prior to coffee is never a good way to start the day).  So he waited quietly until I noticed him (is he well trained or what?), and ever so gently, waved his twenty.  

I spotted him and said, "Hey, dude! Whatcha got there?"  He said, "The tooth fairy brought it. Is this a savings bond or real money?"  I confirmed it was, in fact, real money.  He did a happy jig.  Then he said, "Can I get a new game with this?"  I told him that $20 isn't quite enough for a Wii game.  He thought for a minute and then said, "That's okay, you'll make up the difference for me."

So the tooth fairy hasn't heard about the economic downturn

Huck finally lost his first tooth.  It's been hanging by a thread, but he wouldn't let us pull it. Tonight he let Truck have a go at it, and it popped right out.

There was more blood than I anticipated.  Also, the tooth looked weirdly tiny to me.  I don't have good tooth-loss memories.  Many of my baby teeth and four of my permanent teeth were pulled by a dentist because my jaw is small but my teeth are big (BTW, this dentist was an ass).  I only have 24 teeth, you probably have 28.  You are totally counting your teeth now, right? Truck has 32 teeth.  He has such a large jaw, there's room for his wisdom teeth too.  I am not sure if this makes him a Big Mouth or a Wise Ass.  

In fact, Jo had all hers too.  Comments anyone?

Anyway, back to Huck.  His tooth is out.  He is happy.

After we got him settled, I retrieved my wallet and pulled out the cash I've been holding onto for this occasion.  I had a one, a five, and three twenties.  Truck and I consulted briefly.  We decided the first tooth would get a twenty.  Wow, that's like almost half the cost of a new Wii game before taxes.  I'm fairly certain he will want to buy a new game with his money.  Guess who'll be using more of her cash to make up the rest of that expense?  

Coco. 

No really, Jo.

Banana?

Okay, okay, it'll be me.

Can I borrow forty bucks?

I'm pretty sure I never got paper money for my teeth.  Not even the permanent ones.  I mean come on, not even a sympathy fiver for having to endure Novocain shots in my gums and a dentist who did not like kids?  Maybe I should whine to my parents and get some retroactive tooth money.  Looks like I'm gonna need it, Huck has another tooth loose already.

So much love...

... or not

So I want some stuff, anybody buying?

I want this T-Shirt for my birthday.  Click here to see it.

While I'm asking for stuff, I want this one too.  Click here to see it.  It's cool cause you can customize it with the name of my blog on the back.  If I wear it, maybe people will think I'm a blog celebrity and treat me all nice to avoid being fodder for the blog. 

BTW, I wear an adult small.

Okay, people, don't fight over who gets to buy me stuff, work it out amongst yourselves.

BTW, again, my b'day is like 4 months away, so if you want to just get me one of these shirts for no occasion what-so-ever, that's cool too.

So I'm going to create a facebook quiz

Taking facebook quizzes is a favorite pastime for me.  It is absurdly self-absorbed and a monumental waste of time.  I love it.  I like seeing the outcome of my friend's quizzes too.  I know it's a silly way to connect with people, but this is virtual friendship, not really the stuff of soul-baring intimacy.

I love that facebook thinks Shlitz is my favorite beer or that Emmet Cullen is the vampire of my dreams. I was a bit confused by Will Smith as my celebrity boyfriend cause the Fresh Prince ain't my idea of a hottie (Dear Facebook, how come all my friends got yummy Collin Farrell and I got a guy who is one step up from Urkel?)

So today I took a personality quiz.  After seven questions, Facebook determined I am cold.

WTF?

So I read the description Facebook published of me for all my virtual friends to see...

Cold: Subconciously or intentionally, your cold towards others.  No matter how "cool" this seems, it's not nice.  Though you might gain popularity for your indifference, sometimes its better to open your eyes, and see how your actions are affecting others.

I felt better after reading this grammatical train wreck, clearly a fucktard created this quiz, so it cannot possibly be correct.

I am going to make up my own facebook quiz.  I'll mull it over today and get back to you.