2009 was fine but 2010 is where its at...

As I have stated here over and over, I am a optimist, a rose colored designer sunglasses wearing (yet purchased at TJ Maxx for half the cost) optimist. So you will not find me here complaining about 2009. I mean seriously, what do I have to complain about? My kids are healthy, we are warm, we eat well (actually from November 25th and on, too well, and you can suck it sugar cookies!). And we can still afford our house payment even able after those jack balls on Wall Street screwed everything up.

2009 was a good year. Not a great year but a good year and I will take a good year over a not so good year any day.

But 2010, better watch out. Because I am taking 2010 by storm, like a bad ass Spartan against the legions of the Persian army. I may be outnumbered and flanked on both sides, but with 300 of my closest warrior friends (preferably buff men wearing loin clothes**), I will crush you and mold you into a year of DESIRE: running a half marathon, finishing my book, reworking my blog and numerous work goals. (**OK, maybe I don't know 300 buff men, but I was already down that dank dirt road so I had to keep my stride.)

In any case, you better hide 2010 unless you want to get your ass handed to you in a Rachel Ray 5 Quart Saute Pan, with a apple sticking out of your sorry mouth.

Call 1-800 CHRISTMAS

POP rang the champagne cork, 4pm, Christmas Day. The glorious sound was heard round the kitchen, children were startled but us adults cheered in unison as we started to pour our first Christmas Day cocktail. If I had my druthers I would have cracked open a bottle for my morning mimosa, feeling a little under the weather I could use the vitamin C for Christ's sake (no pun intended). But since I would have been the only one hittin the hooch on Christmas morn, so "we" decided to wait until it a more appropriate time within the mountain standard time zone happy hour guidelines. Later, we would realize that 4pm was way too early to start celebrating "Christmas in a Glass" when you are cooking a Christmas Feast for seven.

Here were the chain of events as they played out last night:

4:00pm Poured a Bellini and preheated oven to 375

4:15pm Started whipping up filling for pumpkin pie

4:30pm Mac and Cheese while snapping green beans got in fight over number of green beans allotted to each, so I poured my second Bellini, ran out of peach schnapps, dammit, but on the upside the kids did get a little bit quieter

5:00pm Made a cheese plate since everyone started bitchin that they were hungry, where did I put my drink? So poured another cocktail this time with cranberry juice and champagne.

5:30pm Another fight emerged, this time over play-doh and the mix vs. not mix debated. Someone cried, someone went into time out. I handled it by pouring a fourth champagne cocktail.

6:00pm Started dancing in the kitchen to the Black Eyed Peas..."I Got A Feeling, Tonight's Gonna be a Good Night"

6:30pm Poured another Glass of Christmas Cheer

6:45pm Continued the dance party

7:15pm Ho-ly turkey shit, realized we (I mean I) never put the bird in the oven. In desperation, called the 1-800 Butterball Hotline hoping for a hail mary, maybe there is a quicker way to cook turkey...placed on hold.

7:25pm While on hold, pulled pumpkin pie out of oven, dropped it on floor. Hung up with 800-butterball and starting dialing Crisco Pie Hotline 1-877-7468, it is even more important that we have pie, placed on hold.

7:30pm Spilled cranberry juice all over the floor trying to make my seventy-ith cocktail while holding on to the phone, still on hold with the Crisco peeps. Found out that Ocean Spray too has a phone number so hung up on Crisco and dialed the Ocean Spray Consumer Hotline at 1-800-662-3263...forget the turkey and the pie, we are out of champagne cocktails, SOS please send cranberry!!!

8:00pm Ate leftover ham, stale rolls and bud light

...OK, I am sooo kidding, the fact is we had a beautiful dinner. We cooked and consumed seven pounds of primed rib, cooked to perfection I might add. It was accompanied with buttered potatoes and garlic green beans and finished off with a succulent cherry cheesecake and obligatory pumpkin pie, of course. Christmas cocktails WERE included but not with the frequency mentioned here, also no children or adults were hurt while writing this blog.

Why Can't We All Live in a Gingerbread Mansion...

Wordful Wednesday- Holiday Edition
I am not sure what takes the most effort when constructing a Gingerbread House. Controlling the spackle/frosting as it spues out of the plastic poorly constructed manufactured bag it came in, keeping said frosting off of every surface within a 3 foot radius (including light fixtures, floor and your Christmas Card holder) while frosting, trying to encourage your children to actually use the candy for decorations instead of an appetizer/precursor to lunch or having the courage to walk out of the kitchen while Extreme Home Make Over takes over.

So each year I try to take one more baby step back and let the kids construct their own house, thus letting the frosting come alive and the gumdrops half eaten stick to wood floor. And they are excited about their autonomy for about an hour, then their ADD kicks in and/or Spongebob Christmas comes on the tube, and interest is lost. So like Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction, and I step in as the cleaner and finished up the project and put my flair on it. All in all, another Christmas memory is created, mostly created by me. But if we have nothing else than we have our memories, even if a good deal of my time was spent yelling and cussing at the kids. So here is what we can up with this year:

So I am feeling pretty good about myself, our gingerbread box has been checked, next on the list to tackle, cookies for Santa. Then I get this email. Now, I am sure you have one too, that girlfriend, you know the one that is so freakin talented and artsy crafty that even her monogrammed craft crates have labeled containers inside. Her kids underwear have been embroidered with their names and her food pantry is organized by shape and color. Well, ours is "L", and although she is engineer by trade, holy gumdrop hell, she sent me a photo of her Gingerbread mansion. Kinda makes my house look like the before dilapidated house from Extreme Home Makeover; pipes broken, mildew in the tub and cracks in the wood floors.

Hark the Hearld Angels Sing...

I could hear their sweet voices echoing throughout the bank/ post office/ real estate office as I dropped the 150th letter into the mail slot. "Glory you are fi-n-ished..."

That's right kids, I have mailed my last Christmas card, bought my last present and ordered my last online gift, sweet holy mother of little baby Jesus.

There are, however, some repercussions left in my Christmas dust. For instance, my credit card now has an attitude, a little resentment if you will and has threatened to embarrass me in public next time I foot the bill for friends at a swanky restaurant or wait in a long ass line to buy that necessary fur vest I have my eye, by stopping me in my tracks with a big fat gratuitous DECLINE. And my American Express, she has turned into quite the slut, as she hasn't seen so much action since the Madonna/ Britney lip lock in 2003.

On the up side, Amazon.com has given me a lifetime key to their special gold treasure box, for instance today I can purchase The Wrestler on Blu-Ray for $6.99. And yesterday it was a Mothers Powerball Mini Polishing tool for $19.99, how did they know that was on my list? I think I would rather they offer me Free Super Saving Shipping for every purchase over $100.01. Oh and Walmart has framed a headshot taken of me this morning sans make-up with a slight hangover and placed it damn near the Employee of the Month's photo, well actually it hangs around the corner close to the men's bathroom, but it reads, "Customer with the most visits in December (and it's not even over yet)." And Hobby Lobby is now sending me 40% coupons each week for all my business and they have asked me to teach a class on how to purchase and then return and then purchase again then return random Christmas decorations.

So all in all a decent couple of weeks. OK don't get your Christmas panties in a bunch, I haven't been hittin my coffee with the hooched up eggnog to think that I am completely done. As I am sure I will have a pop-up, you know a random friend that sends over a Christmas card, someone not on my original list and then I will, in turn, have to stuff an impersonal envelope and send one back. And I also realize that it would be impossible to think that I will go these next seven days without stepping my knock off designer boot in one store, I mean who am I kidding? It is about as unreasonable as thinking there are no more girls left to fall out of the tree that Tiger backed into. Boo yah...sorry Tiger.

But for today, right now, in this moment this Superhero aka "ShopperMom with the Christmas Belt Attachments" has won this year's round against the always aloof Christmas Spirit and won. See ya next year loser.

Awards are the bestest Christmas gift...

About ten years ago I had my first "Betty Crocker" Christmas. That year not only did I receive a crockpot, but I also found under the tree a sewing machine, a book on how to use said sewing machine and a set of pots and pans. I was not a happy Betty crocker camper. How in the hell did I become a housewife? I went to bed a rockstar and woke up a mother carrying an extra 20 pounds of baby fat, awful brown roots where my blonde hair used to be and my mojo buried under three feet of snow in the backyard. A crockpot, seriously, and what's hiding in the coat closet, a homemade pasta maker? I was barely 29 and wasn't quite ready to trade in my leather mini-skirt for an apron just yet. Sure I did mention the "future" need for these gifts in sort of the same way you may "mention" quietly to your spouse that you monthly bill has come a couple of days early and you won't be able to hit the sheet that night, (all the while grinning inside because you know you are off the hook.) That is how I mentioned those items above, just in passing and mostly under my breath. So you can imagine my surprise when I tore open the great big box that was mocking me under the tree for weeks...maybe it was a TV, that pair of boots I had been coveting, or a fur coat...nope just a set of pots and freakin pans.

Ten years later, I still have my crockpot (which I adore) and my sewing machine (which I like, but it can't stand me) and as I look back today, that may have been the best Christmas yet. As time has progressed, and we become homemakers and moms, it seems our Christmas lists gets shorter and shorter. I now have both an apron and a leather mini-skirt, a large crockpot and a small one for cheese dip. I have been through four sets of pots and pans and the china that I had to have it still sitting in its original box. Other that searching gifts.com, for ideas I have nothing else on my list.

So I was so happy to get the above award from Lindsey
What a nice present...I mean really nice. This so beats the three books I have purchased for myself, wrapped and placed under the tree, what, I need to open something on Christmas...

So if I have this correct (this is only my second award) I need to list five things about myself and pass this along to five more rockstars. So let's see.

1. I stayed up until 1am last night taking self portraits trying to mimic a picture I saw online.

2. I pray every night before bed for my children to live until they are 100 and continue to stay healthy and happy.

3. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my girlfriend K battling brain cancer.

4. I would like to finish the book that I started.

5. I think Christmas morning is one of the most magical mornings of the year with or without kids. Or maybe that is the Champagne talking.

Now to pass this on...here are some of my new friends/ fellow rockstars. I appreciate their support and love to hear their comments when they stop by.

1. BATCRAP CRAZY

2. Peeling an Orange with a Screwdriver

3. Waddlers and Toddlers

4. Aspen Mommy Blogger- is Dis Normal?

5. That Girl Blogs

Look at his face, even Ben does not approve...

Man, this Christmas season is truly kicking my ass. While I am completely organized in my head, unfortunately this information seems to be locked up with a steel reinforced padlock, however the only key was swallowed by good ole St. Nick and is lodged in the fat crease of his big ole belly.

My lists and have lists, and just when I think I have one shopping list complete, a new one forms like a f**king Christmas green starfish. No kidding, I have spent money every day on Christmas crap since December 2nd, crap and other "necessities"**. However, just today I happy to say that can I finally see the shiny north star at the end of the gingerbread tunnel after buying my last two teacher gifts.

** So when I say necessities, let me clarify. Using this blog as my therapy, first let me lie down on my office couch for a minute, ok that's better. Yes, it is true that I have purchased something in store OR on line everyday since December 2, sure me likey to shop, my mother swears to this day that my first word was KMart(hey, they had good ham back in their deli days). But today as I rode my go cart shopping cart out to my minivan (again WalMart carts like Costco are built for speed and weight) I glanced down at my receipt and I have to admit that I was shocked to see the necessities that hitched a ride into my cart. Talk about flying on Christmas autopilot, I went in for just two gift cards and a frozen pizza. I came out with:

Three packs of silly putty
Two spin toothbrushes
Two palletes of eye shadow
Four lipglosses
Seven wood bowls & plates
One pack of pens
One pack of pencils
Box of couscous (wtf?)
Shampoo
Two boxes of Eggos
Fifteen pairs of gloves
Ten warm winter hats
Two cans of chick peas
Box of Lucky Charms
Box of Golden Grams
Two frozen pizzas
One bag of sour patch kids
Box of paperclips
Bag of rubberbands
and a partridge and a pear tree...

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun...Part 3 of 3

New York is where I'd rather stay.
I get allergic smelling hay.
I just adore a penthouse view.
Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

...The chores.
...The stores.
...Fresh air.
...Times Square

You are my wife, goodbye city life. Land locked, fourth tier, snowy cold, scalding hot cities with mosquitoes and mountains and ethanol we are there...

There you have it, I admit I am a city girl. Like a mouse to cheese, like the Top Ten List to Dave and high kicks to the Rockettes, I find that me and the Big Apple are a match made in 5th Avenue Heaven. I mean it totally makes sense, my best attributes could only be appreciated in a clamorous fast paced city. I walk quickly, and with purpose. I talk at the speed of light and very loud (I have been told to leave the room on almost every phone conversation I have EVER been on by the Big Cheese). Oh, and I can hail a taxi like nobodies business. It is a shame that "skill" doesn't get much practice in my everyday life, but given the opportunity I can hail the crap out of a cab.

So to say the past week spent in New York City was wonderful is a understatement. I felt like a 10 year old that was the 121st caller and won tickets to the Jonas Brothers/ Taylor Swift/ Hannah Montana Megaconcert. I literally bounced on a pogo stick from store to restaurant to store again, shopping and eating and drinking and shopping as if the Mayan's were really onto somthing and their predictions actually held any water and the world was in fact coming to an end. So today I share my week with you, along with some pictures. By the way, if you were in NYC last week and someone stepped on your toes, blinded you with a flash held inches from your eyes and did not apologize because they were to busy shooting random photos of EVERYTHING, than that was me, sorry dude.


1. First, I found the one place in America where the Men's bathroom line is longer than the womens, a New York Rangers Hockey Game. So if you don't want to wait to pee than go to Madison Square Gardens and pick up a ticket, and a $9 beer.


2. I also found that Matt Lauer is really quite handsome in person. Al's lap band is really working. And Meredith and Anne hit the Plaza working the crowd each morning wearing 5 inch heels, ouch.


3. It is true that a Peppermint Mocha from Starbucks just tastes better in New York. 'Nough said. Well OK, one more thing. So this picture is not cup of Starbucks, but it made me warm and fuzzy just like some mocha cocoa. Taken from the window at Bergdorf Goodman's.


4. Mass transit: While I didn't fear for my own safety riding the subway, I couldn't get over the sick feeling that my kids were going to either a) be sucked up by the force of the wind of the train or 2)fall right into the train track or 3)catch some horrible food and mouth disease. Between the subway and the grids in the street, and the shit and pee, I just knew I had the making of a story in the New York Post. I am waiting for my fifteen minutes, but that is definitely not how I would like it to go down.


5. Roasted chestnuts smell wonderful, but taste like rubbery leather. Hot pretzels served with some asphalt, I mean salt, smell like rubbery leather but taste wonderful.


6. The movie Night of the Museum, was much, much better than the actual Museum. "Don't do it Dum Dum."


7. On the other hand, the Macy's Day Parade is really much better live than on TV. Even if you didn't have the names of the celebrities written in purple at the bottom of your TV screen to alert you who was who. You see, if you see it live you can make up celebrities of whoever you want to see and narrate the parade yourself. So not only did we see Heather Locklear like 5 times, but my brother was able to share with the crowd that US Jump Rope Team was actually "Jumping for Jesus." All of this while we drank screwdrivers out of mini paper coffee cups, picked at a left over pastrami sandwich from the night before, introduced the kids to Snoopy and watched Mom practically plow down some geeky women in elf caps as she chased down the street after the cast from the Days of our Lives.
Good times!

Our Trip to New York City...Kids View 1 of 3

As I travel back from the land of dreams and douche bags, aka New York City, to the frozen white tundra I affectionately call home, I realize there is so much to share about our trip. But instead of boring you with the play by play, detail after detail, after all this isn't a travel blog, geesh. Not saying I wouldn't like to start a travel blog, I mean if anyone runs into a editor say from, Conde Nast and they have an opening for someone to research warm weather island destinations for free in exchange for 1000 words typed double spaced I mean a travel correspondent than I am SOOO totally game.

So instead I thought I would shake things up and put together a three day series written each day from the perspective of each of the family, similar to our dinnertime game "high/low". Today we will start with Mac and Cheese, followed by The Big Cheese tomorrow and ending with yours truly on Wednesday. (Disclaimer: this is the schedule as of now barring a fever, puke, a snow day or anything that would throw a wrench in this plan). Of course, I will embellish and fill in the blanks but don't worry they won't be James Frey embellishments more like Gail King while eating her favorite cheeseburger. Our conversations while making dinner Saturday night.


1. Mac: Hey mom, did you know that TV sets on the back of airplane seats are the coolest thing, like ever. I spent my entire trip watching the FoodNetwork, do you know we can cook an entire holiday meal in just one hour?
Cheese: Well, I loved watching and singing to Dora.
Mac: Yeah I saw you watching and kicking the seat in front of you to the beat of ..D.D..D Dora, D...D..Dora, that was why that lady kept turning around, not to hear your singing voice.

2. Me: So what did you think of the Macy's Day Parade? (I should note that we were ten people thick, and two people high. It was like trying to peer over the Great Wall of China.)
Mac: I couldn't see anything, not even one float, I just put my camera up in the air and kept taking pictures. And what was Grandma screaming about, she kept yelling "Hope, Hope, there's Hope from my soap. Move outta the way!" I though she was going to push over those ladies wearing those dumb the elf hats.
Cheese: "Mom, who was that big dog balloon again?
Me: That was Snoopy. (Can you believe that, how did I manage raise my thus far without a knowledge of the Peanut Gang. Have all my Pig Pen references gone to waste? And what about all my Lucy is a bitch and don't be such a Linus...wasted.

3. Cheese: I remember down in the subway everyone kept saying, "don't touch that", or "someone peed there", "stop touching everything, you just touched pee and maybe even poop." I guess I touched a lot of poop.

4. Mac: Oh, yeah, and we spent three hours eating Thanksgiving dinner. We spent three hours watching football. I think we spent three hours eating dinner every night.
Cheese: You know we didn't even eat Turkey for dinner, it was Ham.
Mac: It was Turkey.
Cheese: No it wasn't, it was a pig not a turkey. I would know.

5. Cheese: We went to FAO Schwartz, I got to play the piano that you walk on. I asked dad to buy it for me, it was only 250?
Me: Yes, it was, $250,000 dollars!!!

7. Cheese: We went to the Museum of Natural History to look for people from the movie. We saw Sacajawea.
Mac: Actually Cheese that wasn't Sacajawea, I think mom just pointed at one of the Indians and told us it was her.
Cheese: Well I know I saw Dexter the Monkey.
Mac: And we did get to see Dum, Dum also from the movie, remember that mom? (Yes, I remember jogging through the museum at closing time for what seemed like two miles, looking for the freakin Easter Island's Monument, but I will share more when it is my turn.)

Stay tuned for The Big Cheese's Interview coming up tomorrow...

Newsflash...I was able finally to attach this video of a conversation with Cheese in a somewhat painful but amusing. Amusing to me but the rest of you may find it as boring as watching a baby panda sleep.

We're Back...

Hi my sweet little blog, my unconventional online personal journal. Man I missed you. You have been on my mind about as much as the Jack Daniels Egg Nog I have been thinking about, waiting to purchase at the local Safeway. So much to tell you about my travels to New York. Only I can't just yet...

Besides the fact that my liver is no longer functioning, my cellulite has cellulite and my intestines are on strike, I am just too busy to dive in just yet. Unfortunately some other priorities must take precedent, this being the season of Christmas cheer and all, dammit. I still need to unearth my Christmas decorations (I am now in major competitive mode with the other houses here on my block, although they don't know it.) I have to research some high altitude baking directions so that I can bake some edible cookies for the troops and I have to get my act together and start working on our yearly reminder that the family is still alive and kicking AKA...Christmas cards.

But I will be back in touch soon my sweet. I think of you often and I have dozens of sheets of scrap paper and voice reminders as proof to share with you soon. See you Monday.

Off to the Big Apple...

Well the Cheese Factory is off to New York City to celebrate all things Thanksgiving-y. Some tips before we go.

1. Wear baggy pants from Thursday on. Diet can start on Monday, or you can forgo it and just wait until January 2.

2. Grab two pieces of pumpkin pie when it comes to dessert and go heavy on the whipped cream. Even if you don't eat it right away, put it away for safe keeping. If you don't take advantage, when you go back for a second piece 2 hours after your food finally settles, you may be SOL.

3. Try to go outside and watch a football game. Don't play just watch as you will be too full to actually play. If you move your arms and cheer you can burn some calories.

4. Oh, and make sure to point out the "real" Santa to your kids, he will be the one at the end of the Macy's Day Parade. And when he winks at you, you say out loud, oh that's right I forgot I have his cell number.

5. Be Thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

With warm stuffing regards,

TaraB

Monday Madness...It's getting a little crazy up in here.

Did you see AMAs last night? Lady Gaga what, what the hell was that? I mean who came up with that whole costume scenario? I would have liked to be a fly on that wall:

Lady Gaga: "OK, here is my vision, for the AMA's, I want to dress like a shrimp, but a pretty shrimp. You know like one of those florescent shrimp that sit on the bottom of the ocean and never see the sunlight so they create their own light."

Agent: "Oh yes, that is a great idea Gaga. I so totally see where you are going with this. You can be angry because you live in the sunless depths of the ocean."

Lady Gaga: "Yes, and because I am so angry I will light my piano on fire and put myself in a box where I can inhale all the smoke fumes. And I can crush liquor bottles on my keyboards. Because I am a pissed off shrimp...


And then there is Rihanna, was that really a song or was she just making up words? She too seemed a little angry. Maybe I am too old to "get it." Don't get me wrong I am definitely on Team Rihanna when it comes to her and her smuck of a boyfriend/beater Chris Brown. But I felt like my kids probably feel when they see me smudging lotion all over myself after getting out of the shower. Both perturbed and confused, but it smells so good so they for a while. And WTF was she wearing? Or more importantly where were her boobs?


Oh, and Houston we are clear for lift off. Whitney, you crazy crack ho, you done good. Finally.

Other ramblings...

Technology...Oh, I have tried to get my Twitter on...check me out, let's chat.

Weather...It is snowing AGAIN, didn't mention that in the forecast. Good thing I cancelled all of my plans today.

Amazing fact...The Big Cheese did eleven loads of laundry yesterday, no shit EL-LE- VEN. And for this moment, right now, every piece of clothing, every towel, washcloth, Halloween costume, pillow case and sheet in my house is CLEAN. With the exception of four pairs of underwear and 3 sets of Pajamas (which we are wearing as I type this at noon on a Monday). Oh and I can't help that every time I walk by the laundry hamper and see it sitting there empty, I dance a little jig (well it's actually a mixture of a skip and a cross body lead).

Life: I would like to try Pole dancing...

Travel: Three days until the Griswolds the Cheese Factory takes Manhattan by storm for the Macy's Day Parade. And I SO hope it plays out like I have imagined it in my head for the past 30+ years. Only I have to now add two kids in tow, grandparents, fifteen extended family members, peppermint scnapps to help deal with all the extra family members and only one set of binoculars for seventeen people...let the games begin.

Photos: Do you think it is unrealistic to think that Matt Lauer will have any time for a photo with my family? Because I am counting on that photo to be on my 2009 Christmas Card. It may go something like this...

"Hey Matt, woo hoo, over here. Listen I'll give you twenty bucks (twenty ones rolled tightly) if you just look over here for one minute. Hey Matt, I-AM-TALKING- TO-YOU...you better get your ass over here. Yelling a little louder...Hey, Mr. Clean, I flew over 1600 freakin miles to take my Christmas photo with you. Not with Al but with you, you pompous ass. Now screaming...I will photoshop you in there anyway it is in your best interest to mug for the camera, come over here!"

"OK, Mac go stand there and Cheese go over there. Oh, wait my eyes were closed, lets try that again. Oh, shoot, Mac wasn't looking at the camera, let's try one more time."

Hey Matt where are you going? Don't leave, we have just a few more to shoot.

Writer's Workshop...A Page from My Diary

What a adorable coincidence...so late last night I stumbled over to Mama's Losing It , as that is about the time of night that I finally take a lap around the "blog block". And I was so glad to see her weekly writing prompt:

4.)Share a diary entry from when you were 13...feel free to make one up!

I say this is a coincidence because my girls just unearthed my 6th grade diary a couple of weeks ago. I was just twelve but who's counting. I still have no idea how they found it because when you move as often as we do, the chances of finding anything outside our standard fifty boxes is like finding a cavity in the molar of Jane, the Tyrannosaurs Rex. So imagine my surprise when they found my diary from 1983, the only diary I think I ever kept, a rare fossil to be sure. I should send them down again to the bowels of the basement to find my pasta maker, circa 1996.

On a side note, I can't tell you how relieved I was that they found that box, because if they would have found any of the boxes from the late eighties/early nineties...Lucy would have some serious splaining to do if you catch my "middrift". "Mommy why did you have a beer in your hand and your were only in high school?" No honey, that's not beer it's Busch Light soda...

For your enjoyment or misery...

January 1,1983 (as you can see it was a Christmas Gift)
Hi, this is Tara your owner, don't worry about me I've had a diary before I know how to use you. I am praying to keep you up to date, let's make this a great 365 days. Love ya!

January 2, 1983
Hi, Today nothing happened except bro caught a turtle. Nana and Pop-Pop left (all they do is watch TV). Well nothing else to say. Love ya!

January 3,1983
Today we started school, I didn't dress out for PE and man did I have a hard time climbing up those bleachers. By the way, I totally love John W, he kinda likes me, I think, I hope. Gotta go. Love ya!

January 4,1983
Today was fun, first John was nice to me and talked to me a lot. He started eyeing me and I pretended that I didn't see him. We danced in P.E. today, I am glad I dressed out because Doug R was also really nice to me. I think I like him too.

January 5, 1983
Guess who I am going with, Doug R. When he asked me Carson was like, "you are making a big mistake" and she keeps saying that. I think she is jealous.

January 6,1983
Today nothing really happened, oh except Jay was going to ask Shelley to dance in P.E. but I bet if I broke up with Doug, Jay would ask me out. Doug won't talk to me anyway, he is my stinkin dance partner and my boyfriend, can you believe it?

January 7,1983
Today I made the biggest mistake of my life. I broke up with Doug (that was so stupid). I only did it because he wouldn't talk to me. I like him more than anyone in the world. So now who am I going to dance with? Oh, and to make it worse Doug asked Sasha out. But she is using him. I am going to tell him and break them up. I love him very much. Love ya!

Jan 8,1983
Nothing happened today except I am PISSED OFF!!!!I want to go with Doug so bad it is pitiful. I am going to break them up. I can't wait.

January 9,1983
I HATE DOUG NOW, he's a jerk.

And that was it... only nine days. The last entry in the diary. We can catch a glimpse here of my issues with follow through. In retrospect, maybe stopping at day nine was a good thing. After a week like that...reading an entire year would be exhausting.

Have you passed by your passion...?

I hit the stores early this morning. And as I left the Supercenter, coasting about 5mph on the industrial size shopping cart into the parking lot and gaining speed, I notice briefly the red and black checkered shirt of the "Pro-Life Man" sitting at his four foot table on the sidewalk right outside the automatic doors. I have seen him there a couple of times, in his late sixties, wearing a black ball cap and holding a clipboard. Silently he sits solicits signatures from people popping into the store to grab some toothpaste or a turkey for his Pro-Life petition.

I admit, at first I am little perturbed. Seeing him there again has forced me to contemplate things that and I could have gone the entire day without considering. I had just put on my rose colored sunglasses for goodness sake, the sun was out and I was on my way home to enjoy my second cup of coffee and maybe throw in a load of laundry...thinking about the rights of women and of unborn children was not on my agenda this morning. How dare he scratch my lenses.

But as I unloaded my things into the trunk of my minivan, I began to think less about whether or not I agreed with his homemade poster board and it's contents. But more about this man and his passion to his cause. I mean that is what it has to be...passion, right? Because only passion would raise someone out of bed and move them to lay claim on the sidewalk of one of America's largest retailers armed with just a table, a chair, a petition, a pencil and the hope to change just one person's mind.

So rather than complain about the "man of awareness" and the fact that he inconvenienced me this morning with his silent advocacy, I began to wonder...what am I passionate about? I mean, if I had a four foot table and five feet of space outside of the Supercenter, what would my homemade poster board say?

What would yours say?

Out of the mouths of babes...

Cheese: "Mom does everything have a butt?"
Me: "I think so, (trying to dig down to my inner good parent core) well, I know there is a book called Everyone Poops, we'll just have to go to the library and check out that book to find out. (pat on the back)
Meanwhile the Big Cheese walks by and because he is the cheesiest he says..
"Well, honey everything has a butt hole, that's for sure."
(proud parenting moment--OVER)

While enjoying a beer and on a Tuesday night, (I just felt like it OK?)
Cheese walks over and says, "Mom you have to drink every time someone cries on Biggest Loser."

A Wal-Mart Story
So I wouldn't buy Cheese (my 6 year old) those peanut butter and jelly premade sandwiches, you know the ones in the frozen aisle, they also come in grilled cheese flavor. Last year I did pack her a lunch, but this year she eats at home with me. She even tried pulling the whole, but I don't like crust, whatever kid, I will cut that off and still save $3.59, plus mamma sees a Miley Cyrus shirt she wants to buy.
So as a result of that discussion she spent the rest of the shopping trip sobbing and dangling off the end of the shopping cart screaming at the top of her lungs, "You hate me, why do you hate me?"

While laying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning I say to Cheese: "Hey Cheese, you know what, we almost named you Belle."
Mac then says to Cheese, "Yeah, but you are not pretty enough to be called Belle."


Cheese: "Mom I wish you were like other mommies, and didn't have to work, but you still had money to buy me stuff."

Cheese: "Mom is Africa a city?"
Me: "No honey it is a continent?"
Cheese: "You mean like a vowel."
Me: "No that's a consonant."

Don't eat yellow snow...

It's snowing...again. And the only reason I am happy about it is because it happens to be Sunday. For most of the day I have managed to stay in my velour sweats (I did venture briefly outside to take this picture of Cheese eating her homemade snowcone) but for the most part, I have admired the white layer of chaos descended from above, from my living room couch. And I am OK with that, in fact I am better than OK with that, barring a neighborhood explosion or a 50% off sale at Nordstrom's I wouldn't drive anywhere today if you made me.

Here is the thing, some people are afraid of spiders, some of heights, others of bees. We're friends right? I will let you in on my secret fear. I am afraid of SNOW. And I DO realize that is probably the most ridiculous thing you have heard today. Unless you have been by Yahoo and saw their latest an ad for GO GIRl, a bright pink pee cone, which allows "active" women to stand to go pee.

Believe me, I understand, for many people the mere thought of snow conjures up comfort and joy and gumdrops and wintery wonderlands made up of candy canes and freakin talking snowmen, snow days, skiing, hot cocoa, kids laughter, Christmas, snow forts and marshmallow dreams...yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. Not for me, I see snow and the morning after ice and if I realize that I have to travel in it I throw up a little in my mouth.

And now living in Colorado and already into our third snowfall this winter, I realize that I am pretty much pooched and I will have to come up with a Plan B, either that or a very large bucket and some stain remover. So thinking aloud, let's see: B is for brave, or boldness or maybe a bike or a bigger car, or a boy to drive me around, or I can just suck it up and put on my big girl waterproof panties and deal with it. No, wait that's it. I will find a driver to drive me around when it snows, I mean how much could that really cost, I have a maid why not a driver? And plus, it has got to be less than what it would cost me to go to a shrink which is another option that I have truly considered. Unfortunately I can't seem to find a psychologist that specializes in inclement weather issues, is there such a thing? Because I don't think my issue with snow is something that a general psychologist could treat. It's not like my fear of snow was brought about by a childhood trauma. I mean I wasn't left outside as a kid and had to survive by sucking on icicles and frozen twigs. I just don't like snow, that's it, cut and dry, or cold and wet however you want to look at it.

Whew, so glad I got that off my chest.

Channeling my inner creativeness...

I am so bored these days. Don't get me wrong I am not the sitting around eating Dibs Ice Cream Nuggets watching the history channel kind of bored. But more of the, have mundane tasks to do with my eyes clothes kind of bored. Without the odd challenge of folding a bed sheet to keep me entertained, life lately is plain vanilla ice cream, no cone, just a cup, and someone ate off the whimsical curly top.

Let's not mistake bored with nothing to do...because I have plenty TO DO. I would list them here in all their infamous glory, but if you think of YOUR laundry list and the things that YOU need to do then I am sure my list closely resembles yours. But I will see your list and raise it a stack of TIME Magazines that I haven't read. Kept in the bathroom to "kill the time", but obviously I haven't been eating enough fiber because I am still four weeks behind. Ha, get it b-e-h-i-nd. Oh, and there is also the photo collage that I wanted to make from our July 4th trip to Boston. I figure the statue of limitations runs out no later than July 3rd next year so I have some time there. And if I really want to dive deep there is the ever nagging wreath around my neck of Christmas cards to be photographed, ordered and addressed...

So what's a girl to do, assuming she has some "free time", or I mean time spent doing fun exciting and creative things not required, have to do, boring things? Any suggestions? (And don't tell me to go outside and run around the block, I don't wanna).

Crafts are always an option, as I am always looking for something new to create. For instance last week it was the ever trendy "bib necklace." Seventy two hours later I have three homemade bib necklaces (one purchased off of ebay) and absolutely no place to wear them. Well I guess I could wear to school to pick up the girls (since that is the only place I go) but I am not sure if it would be the best choice to accent to my flannel shirt, jeans and boots.

The week before last, I was on a quest to find a faux fur vest. After shopping online for what seemed like hours, I decided instead of buying one (a lofty investment for a trend that I knew would pass and I would be stuck with a $100 faux fox vest worn once), I would make a vest. With no pattern and 2 years of acrylic black fur, I set off for my task. I mean seriously how hard could it be, a rectangle with a hole right? Those of you who sew, you can now pick your jaw off the floor, you are right, it was horrendous. I looked like Barney Rubble, after sleeping in the yard because Betty kicked him out when she found him cheating on her with the waitress at the drive thru. I even tried it on for some dinner guests and had to pick them off the floor they were laughing so hard and after they left I had to clean the pee stains out of the carpet because they wet themselves too. So mission aborted...well almost. The following day I did find a Jordache faux fur jacket at the Salvation Army for pennies, well dollars, and I cut off the sleeves and will soon be rocking out my 80s glam faux fur Jordache vest. Maybe I will wear it with my new bib necklace, but first I need to be invited somewhere. In any case, JLo better watch her back.

I guess I could always revert to the old standby, and drink myself into creativeness. Because everything is more interesting after a couple of glasses of wine. In fact, I have come up with some of my best ideas under a beer soaked buzz. Don't believe me? Go into my basement, and you will find crates of ebay clothes lots, fabric, beads, furs, bottle caps, felts, cigar boxes and of course a horrendous black fur vest. Oh and you will probably find the first draft of a letter asking Cher if I could be the President of her Fan Club. Now that was a good idea...at the time. I think I came up with that one after downing a couple of bottles of wine at my favoriate wine bar...I mean seriously why can't I?

My Little Monsters...

So I am playing along...with SevEn cLoWn CirCuS,and her Wordful Wednesday. The idea is to post a photo and whatever comes to mind.
So here it goes:

Little Monsters

I have these two little monsters, actually vampires, you see.
They make me quite crazy, as they slowly suck the life out of me.
During the day when they're gone, ahhh, all is quiet and quite peaceful.
But wait there is no laughing, no hugs, is my day just not as cheerful?
Holy cow, I miss those silly little creatures, tiny hands and big hearts.
And their riduculous questions, like "hey mom, do all people fart?"
I do need them, my Monsters, I mean my blood suckers, it is the truth.
Because I would trade all the quiet in the world for one more day of their youth.

What you won't likely see or hear on a Hasbro Family Game Night Commercial...

We have once again started family game night here at the Cheese Factory. Several attempts have been made in the past, but unfortunately like everything we do, we start off with a bang and end with a smoldering, and sometimes annoying, cloud of dust. In all reality, life takes over and 45 days into our "quest" to spend time together, we start to trip over lost game pieces embedded into the carpet left over like dinosaur fossils of game nights past.

As an example, last year after we bought our Wii, Friday nights became our game night. Moving helped as our social life had come to a screeching halt, so we instead spent our evenings virtual bowling or playing Cadoo and eating DIY homemade pizzas and steamed artichokes. You are thinking to yourself, "wow, that's odd, why would she mention artichokes?" "Or maybe even, your kids eat artichokes?" Well, I mention artichokes because they have now become our game night mascot, kids love them and every time we mention playing a game, Cheese will say "can we get an artichoke?" And yes, my kids will eat just about anything. This has great bragging rights only until we take them out to dinner and they get all high and mighty over the processed chicken nuggets, again. It's like that minced fish commercial. They are like, "mom, these probably aren't even made of real chicken, I would like a steak, can I get a filet like you? And I am all like, "well you too could afford a filet if you didn't squander your birthday money on a light up yo-yo and those two tubes of cherry shimmer chapstick you had to have from the Wal-Mart impulse lane. You know just because you see me spend money frivolously doesn't mean that you have to also. Now where did I put my travel size antibacterial lotion and my three pack of Slim Jim's?"

OK so I don't make my kids buy their own dinners. I do keep a running IOU and I figure by the time they get out of college and start a family that money owed will buy me a nice apartment above their garage, a rainbow of velour sweat outfits and a convertible BMW.

So back to game night, November 7,2009. Game of they night: Monopoly. Yes, I realize that Cheese is only six and Mac is just nine years old. But I was backed into a corner. I would have SO grabbed PAY DAY, but it wasn't an option. The truth of the matter is I didn't feel like gouging my eyes out with mini fishing rods, which I would have done if forced to play Fishin' Around with the kids, even though it was age appropriate. I would have gone with the creepy no face dude Pictionary game, but it was $31.97 and therefore a little more than I wanted to spend. Well actually a lot more than I wanted to spend because I still had to buy dinner and a couple of artichokes (see it all comes around). It was a mutual agreement in the end, with a little nudge in the right direction. Well more or less bribery, one with ice cream and the other with a drawing pad. I also picked up a lint brush and some 8 Hour Energy minis.

Some highlights:

Cheese landed herself in jail so Mac sold her her Get Out of Jail Free card for $686.00, or "one of each color of money". Cheese didn't care, she just wanted out and we didn't have the heart to tell her she made a horrible deal.

Mac on the other hand, kept counting her money over and over, rubbing it through her fingers. She was also the banker so I am not sure how many $100s slipped from the bank to her neatly manicured piles.

Cheese, kept stacking the dice, she really wanted to roll a six. Not sure why, so it will have to go into my mental book of strange things kids do for no particular reason.

She also kept saying "wow so many avenues, everything is an avenue."

Speaking of avenues instead of Virgina Avenue, The Big Cheese kept calling it Vagina Avenue, while chuckling quietly to himself.

Family fun time at it's best!

Some Things I Know for Sure...

I know that...

I will spent every morning over the next 10 years brushing someone else' hair and someone will cry. And I know I will say out loud each morning, "this would not hurt near as much if you took the time to brush your OWN HAIR".

I will recommend someone going to dreads at least 50 times within those next 10 years, against my better judgement.

I will have to flush someone else's pee at least once each day for the rest of my life.

I will be scraping dried cereal out of the bottom of the sink until my children leave for college.

I will always look in the mirror first thing in the morning, suck in my gut and smile. And then I will let it go and roll my eyes.

I will always dream in color.

I will never learn how to fold bottom sheets correctly.

I will always leave out or substitute one ingredient when following a recipe.

I will never go to bed without washing my face first.

I will always stop in the shoe section when walking through a department store, any department store.

I will always sing out loud in the car and the shower.

And finally, I know that while I may not be really great at any one thing. I am marginal at a lot of things.

100% Irony Free

Have you ever used StumbleUpon.com?

If you like to spend your free time on the computer.. waait free time, what is that exactly? Oh yes I remember, the last time I actually had "free time" I was in college. In between the hours of 10am and 10pm, that was free time. It was the time that I should have been attending class or studying in the library. Instead I spent my days nursing hangovers with a pen and a pad trying to put together the missing pieces of the night before. Searching for answers to more important questions like how did my pants legs get covered in mud? Where did my bra go? Where did my car go? And whose puke is this in my hair? Ahhh, good times, college...

OK so where was I...free time.

Well if you have ANY and you like to spend it AWAY from the computer doing something more constructive, than walk away from the light and do not Stumble over to StumbleUpon dot com. However, if you are like me and have transformed your once magazine addiction to now an internet addiction than come on in, the light is warm, and don't worry, I have sat on the scary little lady from Poltergeist, she won't bother you any more.

It was through StumbleUpon that I stumbled on a great site-- a site listing hundreds of BumperStickers. I know, how cool is that? I am so tempted to go out any buy some printable car magnets, so I can share these great quotes with the WORLD. But I wont' because I am still trying to make friends and if I drive around with a sticker that says "Kids in the backseat cause accidents.... accidents in the backseat cause kids." It may not be sending the right message.

It was here on this website that an unfortunate accident happened and I singed all of my nasal hairs when coffee unexpectidly gushed through my nose like a mating whale's blow hole, because this is some funny stuff. So I thought that I would share my happy yet uncomfortable moment with you.

OK, you want to know the real truth? Truth is, I just committed to NaNoWriMo 2009, which is a challenge to write a novel in a month of over 50,000 words...and after writing into the wee hours of the night last night, my creativity is pretty much sapped. So today we can all enjoy someone else's cleverness. Check these out...

A bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory.

Just plead the Fifth -- or drink it -- either way.

All stressed out and nobody to choke!

Ass, gas or grass, nobody rides for free.

Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder...

BOMB SQUAD: If you see me running you better catch up!

Children are like farts: your own are just about tolerable but everyone else's are horrendous.

Could You Drive Any Better If I Shoved That Cell Phone Up Your Ass?

It's lonely at the top, but you eat better.

And my favorite..

I break for........................OH SHIT NO BRAKES

Only in America...

You can tell a lot about a child if you watch them go through their Halloween candy. Some are impulsive and they just dump it on the floor and start pumping it right into their mouths. Some are more methodological and tend to group by texture; chocolate here, chocolate with nuts there, Smarties over there, etc. Me, well I was just greedy, I would first separate into like piles and count them incase anyone thought of sneaking a piece. Later I would create separate "trading" piles for those candies that I just didn't care for...Mounds and Almond Joy come to mind. I would then dupe my little brother into making unfair trades. "Hey bro" I'll trade you these TWO Bit O'Honey's for your stale full size Snicker bar." And like a hobo to a hot dog he would take the deal. Fortunately, he was more of a quantity than quality kind of kid.

So last night after the dust had settled and the kids pumped and dumped, traded and discarded, and of course, left all of their wrappers in the middle of the living room, I was making my last pass through. OK I admit, I was scouring the heap for any remaining Twix bars that I may have previously overlooked. Heading into the corner of room and I what do I see but bright orange bag of "Halloween Pretzels" staring up at me. Poor things were tossed aside like a 7th grade boyfriend. It was obvious they did not stand a chance against the likes of the sour War Heads, Milky Ways or even the less preferred Tootsie Rolls. So I bent down to pick them up and OUCH! something cut my finger. Don't panic it wasn't a razor blade, although that would be a great story. If that happened I would so immediately go out and buy a monocle, a deerhat and a small flashlight and hunt the neighborhood for the sicko. Instead imagine my disappointment when I realized that I had been sliced by a staple. A stinkin staple attached to this card:

You-have-got-to-be-kidding-me...

Disclaimer: First let me say, bankruptcy is nothing to make light of, and I completely emphasize with anyone in such a horrible situation.

That being said, even without a degree in sales and marketing, I would have been a little more inventive. I mean staple your card to a Pay Day or a 100 Grand Bar, at least you would earn a little slice of respect for making a joke. Sure your way worked you are a tricky one you little bankruptcy guru, I did find your card. But what exactly did you think would go down from here? "Hey look honey, I have been looking for someone to handle our bankruptcy, I am so glad we sent the kids out to trick or treat tonight, we can look no further. Because anyone that is crafty enough to staple their business card to a bag of pretzels and hand out to small children on Halloween, that is DEFINITELY the douche bag that I am going to trust to take care of my outstanding debt." "Oh and look, if we refer someone we can get a $10 gift card." I mean, seriously???

And I know exactly who I can refer to our Bankruptcy neighbors...the lazy ass that drove through the neighborhood at 3mph on Halloween night "alongside" her three small kids. She was "parenting" from the heated leather front seat of her giant SUV. I mean, obviously both her legs must have been broken or otherwise she would be WALKING WITH HER CHILDREN like the rest of us.

Kids, this happens only in America...

Girl Friday...

Since it is Friday I thought I would post another fun conversation among my Fab Five, my gang of girlfriends that always keep me laughing...
Why do I need to make stuff up when real life can be so entertaining.

Dear Drunks:
So at training the other night the ADAPT guy (alcohol dependent dude) came to let us know about "warning signs"...one of them is if the person only wants to go out to eat at places that serve alcohol. :) It made me giggle and think of my girls...why would you ever choose to go out to eat at a place that DOESN'T serve alcohol? I would even push for Mc Donalds to obtain a liquor license if I could!!!
Thinking of you all! Signed, I'll take a Beer with my Big Mac

Dear I'll take a Beer with my Big Mac:
Wow! Maybe I should start worrying about myself! I DO only eat at restaurants that serve alcohol! I actively start thinking on Monday what/where I'm going to drink that weekend. On occasion I've only gotten drinks and... gASP, no food! Shit! I freaking need an intervention. Quick, everyone- come rescue me at Outback! I'll be at the bar with 2 for 1 Bloody Marys!!!! Signed, Make Mine Spicy

Dear Make Mine Spicy: Apparently my intervention was moving to PA - the weird liquor laws here make most every restaurant BYOB. So, Outback sounds great! Be there in about 20 hours! Signed, Drinking Diet Coke

Dear Drinking Diet Coke: OK so what if you think about drinking alcohol all the time even if you do not partake but once or twice a week? Does that make me a aspirant alcoholic? Crap, I can't even get that right. And if I was in PA I would be carrying around my Ed Hardy Flask (don't judge my mom bought it for me- come to think of it, is it bad when your mom buys you a flask?)

And, Make Mine Spicy- Two for one bloody mary's, hells yes, save me a spot, I will be right over. I will hook up my quad four runner and start heading that way, 20hours should be right. You think I am kidding but I am this close to convincing the Big Cheese to buy one so I can take the kids to school and ride it to the mailbox. Signed: Snowed In and Haven't Showered for Days, but looking forward to a Beer and a Big Mac

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits. ~ Albert Einstein

So here is the situation…have you heard of the great Einstein Baby Scam? It seems Disney has been backed into a clever corner, and as a result is offering a refund to families that bought their Baby Einstein videos. The claim from the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood was, "deceptive advertising". It seems placing our little cathedrals in front of the tube watching those endless hours of Baby Einstein Videos did not create the mastermind babies Baby Einstein assured they would.

WHAT?

C-O-M-E O-N… Did you really think that orange dragon hand puppet that babysat your kids, actually had the ability to teach them quadratic equations while you took thirty minutes to do laundry? Or did you seriously think that the green frog marionette was whispering the law of physics in your child's ear while you locked yourself in your room shoving down spoonfuls of mac-n-cheese, while crying because it was just one of those days? Sure, let’s stick it to Disney for our own parental shortcomings, because we really thought a video that showed a stuffed animal teddy bear playing Mozart on his violin would encourage my 2 year old walk right up to the piano and start playing Beethoven’s fifth… by ear.

So no, I am not going to request a refund from Disney. Admittedly, I have been drinking the $8.00 kool-aid and I am certain that they Disney is wholly responsible for adding a little magic into our lives, not to mention a giant dent in my wallet. But, hey, I’m OK with that.

Now, there are some companies that I would like write to and request a refund from, as their products simply did not deliver what they "promised" they would.

For instance, I would like a refund from every workout video I purchased between the years of 1996 and 2006. I would like my money back from The Secret, because I never actually learned what the secret was. I would like a refund from Carleton Sheets, that bastard and his Real Estate Foreclosures, whatever. Oh, and Space Bags Inc., because no matter how hard I sucked, there was no way those storage bags were going to get as flat as they showed on the infomercial.

Have you heard of Deja Fu?

I know we have all heard of Deja Vu, but I am making up a new word tonight. Deja Fu...because that is the way I roll and I just make up words whenever I want. For instance, I made up sidewards. I mean if there is a frontwards and backwards, why not a sidewards? It's not backways or frontways, right?

Any way, new word Deja Fu, and it means to see your future (which I did tonight). Oh, and when you tell your friends about Deja Fu, don't forget to put an umlaut, over the "u"...(that is two little dots for all you lay folk). I would but I can't figure out how to here.

OK, back to the future. The short of it is, a storm is rolling in tonight and I realized at 9:45pm that we have run out of cat food. There is a slight chance that I may be stuck in the house for days and the babies simply can't live on tuna in vegetable oil, I mean they could but I wouldn't do that to them...or to me since I am the only one that cleans the cat sh**. So I grab my shabby, fake fur brown coat and head out to the grocery store. On the way I realize that I have mascara smeared all over my face from watching a heart wrenching episode of the Biggest Loser and no practical way to take it off.

Now in the store, I stop real quick to check out the cover of the newest Star Magazine on my way to the prepared soup in the deli section. I glance up into the ceiling mirror and I there it is, a Deja Fu, I see straight into my future. I see me plus 40 years, shuffling through the grocery store at 9:45pm at night, mascara streamed down my cheeks, wearing a old nasty faux fur coat and carrying a 10 lb. bag of Cat Food under my arm. I am complaining about the cost of powder creamer to myself as I stumble over to the prepared soup in the deli aisle after one too many screwdrivers at Bingo earlier that night.

We Are Women Hear Us Roar...

Have you heard this song? It is the newest commercial for Dove and Wal-Mart. I am totally digging their beauty campaign.



Do your eyes sit wide
Does your nose turn to the side
Do your elbows kind of crinkle
Do your knees sort of wrinkle
Does your chest tend to freckle
Do you have a crooked smile

Do your eyes sit wide

Do your ears sort of wiggle
Does your hair make you giggle
Does your neck grow long
Do your hips sing a song

Do your ears hang low
---------------------------------
It's Monday after all, so I thought I would dive right in and add a couple of verses...

Did you shower today
Or did you skip like yesterday
Cause you got no place to go
Because you are trapped there in the snow
Did you wear your sweats again
Because you cannot find a friend

Does your face hang low?

Did you spend your grocery cash on shoes
Because you woke up with the blues
And now you’re eating rice and beans
Wearing your designer jeans
Did you order stuff online
Because it shipped for just a buck ninety-nine

Does your butt hang low?

Is your brown hair turning gray
In some places you can’t say
And your knees start to crack
When you are picking up the slack
Do you sound just like your mother
When you scold your naughty daughter

Do your boobs hang low?

If you had to answer yes
Regarding your face, butt or breast
At least you are alive
and you can smile at my rhyme
Though some days may be gray
Today can be the day
that we roar into the sky.

Let your head hang high!!!

Either you're in or you're out...

OK so late last night I found myself online searching Biz Rate for the least expensive pair of Mammoth Crocs I could find. Yes, I realize that sentence is probably more revealing than I want it to be. From the most obvious, to why would I buy a pair of Crocs, I don't garden. And ending with the fact that I am shopping on Biz Rate to find the least expensive pair available. Seriously, like I can't shell out the $39.99 on a pair of shoes. For heaven's sake, I can just look at a Target and drop a Ben Franklin. Have you ever watched Project Runway? Tim Gunn the fashion guru once said that he thinks that Crocs were the biggest fashion mistake of the 20th Century. So now how could I, a fashionita in my own mind go against the Gunn?

Have I just given up, finally rolling over and succumbing to comfort over style? YOU BET. Hey- don't judge unless you have ever worn a pair. The sheep that were shed for these shoes must have been from Abel’s own flock as they are undoubtedly, the most comfortable pair of slipper/shoes I have ever slipped on my cracked unpedicured heels. I tell you what, those "practical" utility pant wearing moms in the school pick up line really knew what the hell they were doing floating around in their bright orange, red and florescent green mother ships. I have climbed aboard, my friends... and today I vow to singled handily bring back the Croc. Long live Crocs-- crocs vivants!!!

Of course, looking back to less than a year ago I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of Crocs. They were just one of the many fashion “trends” that I had the good taste to stay away from. Crocs, women’s suspenders and those horrid geometric and tribal shirts that were all vying for a great 80s comeback. No, no and no. But I gotta say, when you roll out out bed and the most important place you have to go that day is Wal Mart, crocs are the bomb.

Now since I have revealed this ugly truth to you, I thought maybe I should continue to dig deep and give you some background as to where it all started and how I have progressed to be the fashion icon I am now...again in my own head.

Remember Polo shirts? It was fifth grade, I had accumulated 13 polo shirts, which was a pretty big deal if you were to use this information as bragging rights against all the other children who didn’t have them. What I never told anyone was that only one was an authentic. The other twelve "polos" were bootleg with the tags ripped in half, purchased in a seedy hotel room. I have no idea how my mother found this place, but we spent an entire Saturday wading knee deep in oxfords to find those perfect shirts that weren’t ripped or stained. I can blame this day for my transformation from amateur shopper to professional hunter. I may as well have had my first taste of deer blood that Saturday afternoon. There I was covered from head to toe with cotton fibers and cigarette smoke from the Italian that had bootlegged the truck load of factory seconds from Jersey. Ralph Lauren permeated through the air, there was no going back, that day I became a true bargain hunter.


Or how about the Flash Dance trend, complete with big 80s big hair. Can I get a hollar for the color yellow!! OMG, what the hell was I thinking? Man, I remember "stumbling" upon the bag that held this outfit it in back of my mom's closet the month before Christmas, I could not wait to open and wear it. And I had the perfect occassion this outfit, it would be perfect for my entry to the Seventeen Model Search photo contest. Don't tell me you didn't send in a photo, hoping to be discovered? Now I am just glad I have this set of photos and not my girlfriend.


From Flashdance to Punk. Well, somehow I skipped over the whole punk/Madonna thing. I think I extended the shoulder pad phenom which came right after the Flashdance era a little longer than necessary. This was due to the fact that I had a coveted pair of removable shoulder pads. So basically I could put them, ANYWHERE I WANTED. Come on, I know you are digging the leggings and the yellow hightops.


However, today I think I would like a do over. I would scrap the shoulder pads and the leggings if I could enjoy being a punk for a day or two, maybe a week. I would walk around all pissed off, rocking out some red streaks in my hair and a lace fingerless glove on my right hand. Oh, and some motorcycle boots would be totally bad ass. And I would also like to walk into a Hallmark Store straight over to where the little crystal figurines are placed ever so delicately...and go Godzilla on them. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it either. I mean Seriously, Why Can't We?

Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't understand.

Fifteen year old animated boys, you better start saving your cartoon cash because your wildest dreams have come true. Your favorite MILF, Marge Simpson, has hit the pages of Playboy. Time to find out if the blue drapes really match the carpet.

Yes, Playboy I realize that your circulation has slipped from 3.15 to 2.6 million in recent years...but I am not sure what market you are shooting for with your newest cover model. Don't you realize that Springfield cash is like .00003 pennies to the dollar? I mean what's next a lesbian pictorial of Betty Rubble and Wilma Flintsone. Rocks as payment will earn you even less.

Poor Bart, I guess he is finally getting what he deserves for all of his astatine pranks and abhorrent behavior. What goes around comes around my man. Not only does he have to face Milhouse and Ralph at school but Dolph has also seen the spread by now (get it) and wants in on the action. Later when Bart gets sent to Principal Skinners office for beating the hell out of Dolph for making rude comments about his mamma, he is ashamed to look up to see his mom's centerfold pinned up on Skinner's wall with kissy marks all over it.

There is one winner here, you know who lovin this publicity... Apu. The Kwik-E-Mart is raking in the dough left over right as he has his entire magazine display filled with Marge's covers, right next to the Duff's beer and electronic cooked hot dogs.

Uh oh, here comes Homer, "DOH"!

...dedicated to Sher

Bless his heart...

Nothing like waking up at 7am and having a feeling that you were visited by the paranormal last night. Not Casper the friendly ghost, but the other one, his evil pointed head brother, the one that likes to turn on lights and deficate on a whim.

So let me start at the beginning, which was yesterday. You see we have offered to host our squadron/ welcome open house/ meet your crazy spouses party this Saturday night. And because a simple party won't do, I have give this soiree a theme, Southern Haunted Manor, spooky hun? So yesterday the whole family spent the day out and about buying crazy random decorations for my "Haunted Manor". Stuff that we will never use again, from the dozen black ravens to the blood soaked candles. Vampire Martha, eat your heart out.

I gave the Big Cheese a task, I asked him to paint some drop cloths with some whimsical, yet spooky ghosts that we will later tape to the windows. My hubby is chuck full of talent, and quite a perfectionist, which is why he spent a good hour and a half on just one covering (with 5 more to go).

So when he is finished with part one of his task he gently carries the drop cloth and carefully lays it upstairs on the bed in the spare room so that no one touches it, especially the cats. He closes the door.

Fast forward to this morning, on his way out to work he checks on his "masterpiece" and finds it crumpled in a 10 inch ball on the spare bed, the bathroom light is turned on and the room smells like poop. He comes in to report this strange phenomenon, bewildered, and I too admit that for a brief minute, in my somnolent, coffee deprived state, I think holy geez, we have been visited by the ghosts of Halloween pasts and they are pissed off.

When we investigate further, we look under the crumpled up ghost masterpiece, and find it is covering a large pile of cat shit and a crumpled throw blanket is laying over a small lake of cat pee.

It seems the Big Cheese locked our cat in the SPARE ROOM overnight and he had his own frightening Party. Seriously...