Fickle Whimsy

Dear Santa,

2005-12-26T13:22:00.000-08:00

Yo, Santa. Thanks for the iPod Shuffle that you delivered so cheerfully this year. Thanks for the sexy new mocha tinted leather boots that you left under my tree. Thanks for keeping me sane and bringing me cordial cherries times two. The kids loved their loot as well. (Magnetic Dart Board, Furry bedspreads, six-shooter dart gun, puzzles, books, throw pillows, canvas box shelf, diary and key, shirts that won't fit and snow white new underwear, Spongebox Squarepants Video game, pens, pencils, erasers and containers, Laminator, Computer games, candles, bags, purses, makeup cases and paint, Spiderman movies, star wars figures, dinosaurs, jewelry and lots, lots more.) Also Dear Santa, thanks for continuing to give me at least 3 good days a year. Those three days right before Christmas are some of the happiest I have ever known... The kids are on their best behavior in recognition of your oh-so-subtle threats of being stricken from the good list. But, you did forget one thing you jolly-but-forgetful ole' elf. My magic wand. You know, the one I've been pleading about, for oh.. About 10 years now. The one that I wave and it magically makes the 16 piles of dirty laundry neatly stack into rows and columns of freshly folded goodness. The magically delicious wand that ever so magically makes the shiny new gifts ebb and flow right into their designated home for the next 12 hours. Until they get scattered from here to kingdom come again. But you see, that’s where the magic wand comes in handy. (The one you forgot. AGAIN.)

Decidedly, the new wet/dry dustbuster with an onboard squeegee will have to do..

I do love a new toy...

Not THAT Old

2005-12-22T20:46:00.000-08:00

See - The most obvious "old folks" conversation I've had - to date.
(Note - I'm not proud of it.)

C. : My cough has gotten really dry since earlier this evening.

Jenny: *blink* I'm sorry. (politely) Why do think that is?

C. : I'm not sure, but it was really wet and mucus-y earlier and now it's all dry.

(pause for inordinate amount of time while I sift thru the sentence just uttered.)

Jenny: And umm.. is that a good thing?

C. : Well, yea! When it's wet you can cough and actually hock up some phlegm! Spit it out and be done with it! Yea, it's a good thing.

Jenny: Really... *blink* Good to know. Is this one of those conversations that really old
people have?

C. : I think so.

Jenny: We're not that old yet.

A New Song.

2005-12-19T11:08:00.000-08:00

Last year, at this time, I had my best friend and her daughter staying with me. Living quarters were cramped. The children were standing in line to murder each other by violent means and we had more animals than we did humans. But K and I were TOGETHER. This 3-hour drive to see each other is going to be the end of me. Seriously, I may just wither up and blow away without her constant guidance in regards to my sock folding and paperwork filing. Who is going to show me ~~how~~ where to file a letter from SBC about stocks? Does that go under personal or business? SBC or general income? I need my personal secretary/life support back...

Last year I was singing this tune -

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me,
Eleven inches of........... yarn,
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes!

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me,
Twelve FUCKING PETS!,
Eleven inches of........... yarn,
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

This year I'm singing this tune -

Those two chicks are
gone as you can see
I don't know just who
to blame for this catastrophe!
But my one wish on Christmas Eve
is as plain as it can be!

All I want for Christmas
is my one Daisymae,
my one Daisymae,
see my one Daisymae!

Gee, if I could only
have my crazy old friend,
then I could wish you
"Merry Christmas."

(I should say that I'm singing (badly) along with "My Two Front Teeth".

I can't wait to see you both!

Think of a Kia.

2005-12-13T19:23:00.000-08:00

I've been ~~nagging~~ gently encouraging my family and friends for months to UPGRADE to Firefox. Maybe it's been years... I'm really not sure anymore. I can barely remember what an IE browser looks like. Although, I will say.. I'm going to have to remind myself. Shortly.

I'm in the process of 1) designing a blog layout for this site and 2) building a personal/business/information/gallery site for my photography business. 'Gifted Arts'. Or maybe gifted arts. I'm so conflicted on every single design aspect for both sites. Not to mention supremely unqualified and quite honestly, totally, completely technically uninformed to the degree that I've taken 4 beginner CSS courses and studied endless HTML tutorials. Don't get me wrong, I'm starting to pick it up. I admit, (my friends will faint) that I'm a perfectionist when it comes to some things. No, not all things. Shut up Krista.

This really needs to be one of those things that I'm utterly delighted with. It really does! I need to be able to believe in it and get inspired by it. Inspired to be a patterened (yea, like that will happen) and yes... pundit blogger. /end thesaurus

Ultimately I need to be inspired to take beautiful pictures. Maybe I should just find new inspiration... Hell, I don't know anything anymore.

But, I'm not going to panic. Nope. *breathing* I'm in no hurry. No one is going without food because I don't have this website built yet. *breathing* It's ok if I take a month or six months or YEARS. *sigh*

Who am I kidding. I'm going to drive myself bonkers. When I'm done though... That is going to be a GOOD DAY. I'm going to drink wine until my cheeks hurt from smiling. Rewards are a good thing.

I've sidetracked, as usual.

Firefox. Really, people? Do I need *spell it out? Honestly, this browser is far, far superior to Internet Explorer.

Think of a Kia. (Yes, the car.) Let me first say, that I would LOVE to own a Kia. I have a gas guzzling truck that is eating me out of house and home. Not to mention that they are totally cute (click the link!) and from what I hear, pretty darn good cars.

Now, think of a Lexus. See the smooth, sexy design lines and sleek interior. Makes your mouth water a little doesn't it? Now picture yourself driving a browser that hot. You can!

(note* I realize that if your totally hot for IE that I've probably come off like a know-it-all pompous ass in this post, but that's a risk I'm going to have to take.)

(another note* I think I would have Mozilla's babies. If I had a uterus.)

7 signs of trepidation

2005-12-08T20:40:00.000-08:00

7. I straightened the crib yesterday afternoon. By "straightened" I mean that I cleaned nonstop for about 3 hours, employing the "Mean Green", broom and mop, the vacuum and even a little bit of elbow grease. Right now - at 11:46pm the next day - it looks as if the Brady Bunch came to stay for a week and forgot to bring Alice.

6. Searching for a Mean Green link just now made me realize that fuckin' Dollar General overcharged me for a gallon of the good stuff. Why even call yourself a Dollar store? Oh yea.. you OVERcharge by a dollar. Gotcha.

5. Finding Nemo is the only thing I've watched on TV, VCR, DVD, DVR, etc. in atleast 10 days.

4. My Christmas tree is suspiciously leaning to the right. Damn cat. You are so lucky that you have that cute thing on your side.

3. My fingernails are asking to officially go by the new title of fingernubs. Thank you.

2. My oldest son - Logan - who is 11 and a half is still awake at almost 12pm. Just laying in his bed and talking to himself.

1. My refrigerator sounds like it needs an antacid. This worries me.

Times of Yore. Otherwise known as The Great Black-Out of '05.

2005-12-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday.

You know what I love about yesterdays? They are so utterly in the PAST. Gone. Recent. Times of Yore. Well, sort of.

First I should share some basic background information in regards to my great State of Texas. If you live here than you understand that when the cold wintry months overtake us, well... people tend to go a tad nutso. Just the thought of ice or sleet or snow makes them bolt for the nearest super behemoth discount store for truckloads of water and corn meal and Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream. The sand trucks are waiting and ready, the schools are paused for closure and the banks are SURE to be on hiatus... so why all the excitement you ask? Because it only happens about once every 16 months or so and the great people of Texas will be DAMNED if they don't get all excited and frantic atleast once every 16 months. That was yesterday.

The oh-so-professional news teams were out in force. "WINTER BLAST". "Severe Winter Warning!". "Freezing Rain and Sleet are heading YOUR WAY!". These were the stories on channels ABC, CBS, and my beloved NBC. For once, they were right about the weather and I despise them for that. The excitement, the drama, the hullabaloo makes me positively INSANE. I want to yell at the people in their Ford Diesel's that the world is in fact NOT coming to an end. We will get about 43 minutes of sleet and the roads will get a little slick and by Saturday Texas will be back to it's normal, sunny 62 degrees. But, they won't.. they DON'T listen. Yes, I did mumble it under my breath as I ransacked my pantry for extra bags of sugar. Just in case.

I digress.

C has planned a trip to the deer lease for weeks now. Commencing yesterday. A four hour drive to NW Texas and a resulting 5 day stay. Leaving you know who (ME) home alone - with three VERY excitable kids. Between his excitement about the cold weather and the kids excitement about the cold weather I can't help but just ... well, I'm ashamed to say it. OK.. I dread it. I dread it. I dread it. I dread the biting wind and the sound of sleet on my windows. I dread knowing that my electricity will almost definitely go out when it's 22 degrees and atleast an hour until bed time. But, I'm the Mom. The mood-setter. I can't be too obvious with my distaste for all things snowy and cold.

Yesterday.. as the weather rolled in and the kids came home early from school I got afraid, very afraid. I knew that we could have snowbanks the size of Times Square and C would still be leaving for the Deer Lease. So, I did laundry and cleaned house and in my pre-winter state forgot all about the ramifications of being home alone with three (very excitable) kids with no electricity.

At 5:30 or so C left and we watched the news like junkies looking for a crack fix. It was freezing, and windy and sleeting and icy and my kids .. the little fiends.. wanted to GO OUTSIDE TO PLAY. I promised them that the hazardous conditions would still be there in the morning and assured them that their chances of breaking a limb were only being put off for a few hours. After settling them into warm pajamas and hot cups of hyper-activity inducing chocolate we waited. I'm not sure what for - but it was coming.

Then it happened.

The power went off at around 7:45. Approximately one hour before bedtime. You knew it was coming.

I immediately thought about the one good flashlight that I had packed in C's bag and wondered why in the flippin' hell I hadn't been one of those crazy people ransacking the super behemoth discount store for batteries and duraflame logs.

Instead I donned my outerware and braved the icy wind in search of firewood. (Note to self - Thank C for his wondrous insight in regards to keeping the firewood in a water-proof box.) It only took me about 20 minutes to figure out how the damn box opened ....

I was finally successful in my fire attempts, just in time to get the kids settled on the living room couches. Snug as a bug in a rug under about 4 blankets each. What does a girl do in the dark when everyone is asleep and the house is entirely too quiet? Talk on the phone of course. It was the only thing keeping me from running thru the streets yelling for TXU to hurry, hurry, hurry.

I'm really not scared of the dark. But the cold, icy dark... well, it's daunting.

By 10 0'clock TXU had done their job and we were once again safe, sound, warm and most importantly capable of accessing the internet. I do have priorities.

And then the breaker blew - disrupting my precious internet connection and causing my head to fly off of my shoulders and whip around the room in angst. After locating the breaker box in the dark and resetting the silly switches, I settled myself back into my desk chair, in front of my cozy feet heater and resumed my Firefox extension addiction.

Only for the breaker to blow AGAIN. This time my head didn't fly off. I just sighed and walked calmly into the wall. Repeatedly. Walking into the wall repeatedly must have done something miraculous for my brain function because it suddenly occured to me that my comfy feet heater is probably causing the problem. Unplug the heater. Reset the switches. Slam skull into hard surface. Start over.

The only thing I regret is repeatedly passing up this ESSENTIAL Firefox extension.

yesterday....

Enigmatic Bonds

2005-12-06T07:48:00.001-08:00

I used to think that love was easy. You love someone and they love you back and lookie here, we love each other. Elementary dear Watson.

I'm noticing lately (it's only taken me 32 years...) that love isn't quite that naive. Love is really fucking complicated. I'm noticing lately how enigmatic each and every single, solitary relationship is.

Let's start with friendships. It's an inherent human trait for people to fuck up. Sometimes, royally fuck up. We make mistakes. We tell each others secrets. We fight. We argue and bitch and moan and pity ourselves. We let ourselves forget about the fun. We make up reasons not to call. We walk out without saying Goodbye and we forget to say I love you. We get busy in our lives, with our jobs, with our families, with our own fun. We get high and mighty. We let tension bubble beneath the surface wondering how to squash it, but not taking the effort to just talk about it. We walk on eggshells instead.

Why do we do this?

Because building and maintaining relationships is by far the most labor-intensive mission we can engage in. Anyone can fix a car, or cook a meal, or plant a garden - given the right instruction and preparation. But it takes mindfulness, diligence and perseverance to maintain a healthy relationship. Friendships are the tenderest, most vulnerable of all. I've thought about this. I have to have a relationship with my family; they are after all - MY FAMILY. My husband and I must work things out - we have a marriage to consider and kids to nurture. But friends - well they come and go... Right? Not exactly. True friends, in my experience, are hard to come by. Trusting someone completely and allowing myself to be a trusted source is hard work.

The relationship I have with my best friend is without a doubt an exception to the rule of casual acquaintances. We've known each other our entire lives. We've loved each other longer than we've had boobs. She broke my toes pumping me on the back of her bike. I ate her cooking before it could be considered food. She stole my boyfriends and then gave them back. Despite our history, our relationship is still really, really fucking complicated. We walk on eggshells. We tell each others secrets. We make mistakes and in general just fuck stuff up. On the other hand, we are both 100% committed to each other. No matter what happens, we can't fathom the thought of not being friends anymore; and trust me, there have been some tense, awkward, curse-word-filled moments in our 28 years of loving one another.

Family relationships are only slightly different. No matter how much our family members hurt us, desert us, crush our dreams, make us sad, mad, looney tunes - we love each other because we just do. Because when I was a 10 year old girl my younger brother beat someone up to protect me. Because my Daddy bought me a gold bracelet for Christmas - just from him. Because my Mom saw the hickeys on my virginal 15-year old throat and didn't berate me, but instead talked to me about my body and my own sexuality and the power that lay within. My family relationships are sometimes the hardest to maintain for this very reason. They know it all.

It seems lately that I'm constantly balancing a fine line of utter contentment and absolute upheaval in my relationships. Not the I'm-Never-Talking-To-You-Again-EVER kind, but more of the Don't-Call-Me-I'll-Call-You state of peril. How do we constantly arrive at this state of woe? How do we forget about our issues and arguments in the amount of time it takes to hear bad news? How do we run to comfort the ones who make us the angriest?

Because relationships and love in general is complicated.

REALLY COMPLICATED.

But, it's so very worth it. I wouldn't trade the emotions and feelings that I share with those I love for anything in the world.

Yep, I just figured this out...

I will quit. I will.

2005-08-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

I made the monumentally ~~stupid~~ SMART decision this past Monday, August 15th to quit smoking. I smoked my last cigarette at approximately 10:00 pm. In 23 minutes I'll have gone 60 hours without a nicotine fix.

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I made the choice to enter this personal hell .
Clean lungs? Who cares.
Bad breath? That's what gum is for.
Stinky clothes? You shouldn't be standing so close, ASSHOLE.

Sigh...

I feel so bitchy and out of control.
Irritable.
Emotional.
FUCKING WOE-BEGONE.
I wasn't sure who I should call last night when my head spun off of my body and bounced around the room. Doctor? Lawyer? Exorcist?

Will I get thru this?... that's the question. Will I successfully give up nicotine? Right now, this very minute, 9:28 am on August 18th, I would have to say No. It probably won't happen. My hands are shaking, my stomach is turning, I feel nauseated and disoriented. I NEED a cigarette. But, more importantly I WANT a cigarette. I want to inhale and exhale and feel the smoke snake its way down my infected trachea and worm its way into my already blackened lungs.

Obviously, addiction makes me unreasonable. I know that cigarettes are poison, but my body tells me that I need that poison to feel... right. Going without nicotine feels.. well.. yea.. WRONG. really wrong.

Just one. I only want one.

My plan is to stay in my house until the cravings are gone. I'll probably scream at C. I'll definitely torture my friends with plaintive wailings for the sweet, sweet aroma of a Marlboro Light. But, I WILL prevail.

I will quit smoking.

I'm not committed - yet...

2005-07-08T20:54:00.000-07:00

I've gotten a few emails from some very sweet (but with obviously no life to speak of) people, wondering where I've been. Why I haven't blogged?...Which jail am I in?... What mental hospital do I now call home?... Well, the answer is D. none of the above. (But, just barely.) I did go through a very rough patch with my bi-polar self-induced dementia, also known as B.S. I didn't check myself into any mental hospitals, and I managed to talk C. out of committing me. (Thanks honey! I hate hospital food.) What I did do was sleep alot, act grumpy, stop eating on occasion and most depressing - stop taking my meds. If you're bi-polar - listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth - DON'T STOP TAKING YOUR MEDICATION. EVER.

Don't worry. I didn't start dating a gangster or take a job as a coctail waitress in an all-nude strip club. (Don't laugh. Those things really happen.)

The good news is that I've been taking my medication regularly for about 2 months now, the bad news is that my Mom, who has been ill for a long time now, has taken a turn for the worse. 17 years ago she underwent a heart transplant, today her heart is giving out. Her heart is not pumping fast enough to keep up with the flow of blood, and it's systematically affecting all of her internal organs. I found out today that she has to go on dialysis Monday. All I know is that I'm shaken to my very core. I know that she will feel better because her blood will improve but all I can think about - is that my beautiful, young, 47-year old Mother has no more kidney function. And that freaks me the fuck out.

Where was I?

Oh yea.. Where have I been?

Freaking the fuck out.

Letter to a Friend

2005-02-02T09:24:00.000-08:00

I'm running out the door to go to the Dr., so in the interest of time I'm posting a letter
that I wrote to my best friend in April of last year. Enjoy.

Dearest Krista,

Thank you so much for inviting me to go out today. Your timing is always right on target. With the weather so beautiful, and my mood being the way it has, you knew that I would be experiencing one of my bouts with "cabin fever". Ally was so excited when I told her that she and I would be heading up to Dallas to see a movie with you and Bethany. We were late, as we always are when we go someplace together, but we got there! With our arms full of movie snacks we rushed into the theater 10 minutes after it's begun, like we usually do. Punctuality has always been one of our on-going jokes.

How long have we been friends? Let me think. I'f I'm 30 and we met when I was 4, then that would make our friendship 26 years and still going strong, this month. Wow. How many people can claim to have had the same best friend for 26 years. A friend of absolutely no blood relation, but as close as any sisters could hope to be. For fourteen years you lived 2 houses down. On our tiny street, in our tiny town. I never felt that I was missing anything though.

We were telling the girls stories of our childhood this afternoon. Boy, if those girls only knew of all the trouble we got into. Do you remember playing truth or dare with Shane and Mark? Remember playing Army with all of the boys and using charcoal as hand grenades?

I laugh everytime I think of us learning to sew. We were sitting on your water bed and I decided that the mattress would be a good spot to stick my needle. What's a little hole in a water bed mattress between friends though?

8th grade banquet was so much fun. I still have the pictures of you in that hot pink gown. What a site you were. Beehive and all. LMAO You wanted to kill your mom. And for good reason.

I'll never in my life forget that damn dog that hated me. Rinny the Skipperkee. Holy hell, that dog wanted to rip my throat out. I never knew I could jump so high. Don't laugh. It ain't funny.

Think of all the hours we spent rewinding that Air Supply tape trying to write down the lyrics. What an eternally huge waste of our time. I still remember every lyric though.

Chocolate mayonnaise cake ring any bells? I just knew that you we're out of your mind when you told me that you were going to bake me a chocolate mayonnaise cake. That was the beginning of our love of food.

I know that you will remember lick-n-rub stamps, and sneaking into Crystal Chandelier when we were 17. Driving home from Billy Bob's at 5:00 in the morning. What about the time we drove home with our tops off? Just because we could.

Your first husband was my boyfriend first. You actually started dating him, knowing that I really liked him. He only had eyes for you though. It's too bad that you guys didn't work things out, I guess you we're just too good of friends.

Living together wasn't a great idea. You tend to be messy and I'm overly neat. Your a night owl and I ike to go to bed early. We know each other so well, and love each other so much that we can say anything to each other. That would be our dwelling together downfall. But, it didn't break us.

We have had arguments over boys, toys, jobs and everything in between, but we always come out of it respecting the other more for it. At one point I think we even went 8 months without speaking. Only to come back together like we hadn't missed a single day.

We are both so lucky to have the families that we do. I adore your family and you are just another kid in my own parents home. You even lived with my brother, with much better results than you and I had! When Mom had her heart transplant you took care of me. We were freshmen in high school and you put your social life on hold to give your full attention. The night I found out that Mom got a heart you and I were sitting on the tailgate of my Dad's truck. Remember that? We held each other and cried. I'll never be able to replace a memory like that.

We've swapped boyfriends, borrowed each others clothes, babysat each others kids, took care of each other during illnesses and picked each other up after a fall.

Last summer I had to be picked up. My mental state was highly questionable and when everyone else was ready to point their finger you opened your hand. I turned my back on every single person in my family and held only you close. You understood. You never judged, but only listened and encouraged. When I was threatened, you were there to make me take a strong look and realize my mistakes. You saved me.

When you introduce me, you always say... "This is my best friend, Jennifer"

I'd give anything to say.. "This is my sister, Krista"

Boyscout

2005-02-01T06:20:00.000-08:00

After 10 years of daily use, my dryer has finally given up the ghost. About a week ago, we tumbled our last load. Krista and I have been hanging clothes on the backporch, the mantle, the backs of chairs, pretty much anywhere that will hold a hanger. (We look like a bunch of rejects from the Oso ~~Grande~~ Gross trailer park.) We have even gone so far as to take several loads at once to the laundry mat for drying. Last night was one of those nights. At 11:00 pm we were sitting in the parking lot of Walgreens after making a quick pit-stop for some necessities. (Peanut M&M's! - also know as - Food of the Gods)

As we're sitting there admiring our 40lb bag of Valentine hued M&M's, Krista suddenly jumps and squeals because some strange boy is standing right outside the drivers side window. As she rolls the window down, I notice that (thankfully) he looks more like a boyscout than a mass murderer. "Can you give me a ride to SAGU?" He asked us as he explained to us that he had just gotten off of work. (By the way, what is the deal with me and people needing rides?) Krista stays quiet as I discuss with him side streets and where exactly he needs to be dropped. As we look at each other and silently agree that this poor kid is merely cold and not looking to rape our young nubile bodies, she leans back into the backseat and scoots our wet clothes over for him to have a place to sit. (He even offered to sit in the bed of the truck!) As he is climbing in Krista asks him "Are you packing?" and I notice that the poor kid has a shocked expression on his face of one who has been confronted with something totally out of his depth. Her and I laugh at the obviously harmless joke and he... well, he didn't laugh at all. "No Ma'am" he stated quickly as he has a seat in my backseat. "Good, because I don't want to have to kick your ASS!" she states, trying again to make a joke. Again, he didn't laugh. I quickly explained to her that SAGU stands for Southwestern Assemblies of God University and REALLY it's only about 3 blocks away. For the entire 3 blocks this poor kid "Yes Ma'am" and "No Ma'am"s us to near death. I wanted to SCREAM at him that I'M.NOT.OLD. But, that's how sweet little Southern Assembly of God boys talk and he was obviously one of those sweet boys. As he jumps out of the truck (at a pace only to be compared to a marathon-olympic-award winning truck exiting champ) he says to us "You have a blessed day."

As we drive away, Krista looks at me and says "I'm SO going to hell."

Where I use the words Cock, Pubic and Bargains

2005-01-30T18:16:00.000-08:00

Since I'm super kinky and not in the least shy, I'm going to share a sex story with you, my readers. Both of you. If either of you are offended by discussions of cock rings, pubic hair or bargain shopping... Well, consider yourself warned.

I had never used a cock ring (or better yet, my husband hadn't used a cock ring) up until a few weeks ago. The story of us using this cock ring (no matter what C says) is hilarious. We researched cock rings online for a few weeks. Porn sites, naughty toy stores, erotic stories. We wanted to have "all the facts". That's just NOT something I would want to fuck up. Know what I mean? I can imagine it now... "HONEY, It's tangled in my PUBIC HAIR!!"

Anyway...

C and I like to budget our money. We don't normally buy a bunch of big ticket items unless we really need it. How hard could it be to find a "substitute" for a cock ring? Well, I'm here to tell ya... Cock rings don't have substitutes. We tried an O-ring first. You know what I'm talking about. The type of thingy that you put on the back of a washing machine... Well, it wouldn't stretch very well. (Read - It was TOO small) Sooo, we decided what the hell.

We decided to use a rubber band.

Don't laugh. It sounded good at the time.

Me being a woman, I want the rubber band to be as tight as possible. (The tighter the better, right?) So, I wrap it around his cock.... Twice. He grimaced a little but left it on... Well, we got into it pretty hot and heavy.... and his manly parts were HUGE. Much sooner than I would have liked he starts to slow down. I'm still clawing his chest and trying to keep him going. (Picture spurs and bronc riding) Suddenly, he stops. In mid-stroke. JENN, WE HAVE TO STOP!

Noooooo! Noooooo! You don't have to stop. It will be fiiiine. Keep going!

JENN WE HAVE TO STOP!

Ok... Fine.

By this time, he is doubled over in the middle of the bedroom, screaming at me to go get some scissors.I felt this had to be a bit drastic. Scissors! Ohhhh, To cut the rubber band!! Gotcha. Well, to make a long story longer.. I ran to the kitchen, got some scissors and flew back in to find his balls turning an odd burgundy color and his face closer to the color of white-out. HONEY, Its tangled in my pubic hair!! At this point, I just collapse laughing. Poor C.. He didn't find it half as funny as I did.

Eventually, we did get the ~~cock ring~~ ~~male torture device~~ rubber band cut off of his poor nutsack and he has thankfully made a full recovery.

I wonder if I can still talk him into trying a real one.....?

Space case.

2005-01-29T11:56:00.000-08:00

How screwed up is it that I can spell any word that she asks, but 90% of the time, I can't remember my own phone number.

Her: Spell pneumonia.
Me: p-n-e-u-m-o-n-i-a
Her: Spell February.
Me: f-e-b-r-u-a-r-y
Her: Spell Polygamy.
Me: p-o-l-y-g-a-m-y (ok, she didn't ask me to spell THAT word)
Her: Spell hysterically.
Me: h-y-s-t-e-r-i-c-a-l-l-y
Her: How much did Clayton weigh when he was born?
Me: Ummmm... well... ummm... It was 8lbs and like maybe 12oz... ?
I'll have to look into that.

Please tell me that I'm not the only one harboring this affliction.

Be prepared!

2005-01-28T09:34:00.000-08:00

The next time you pack for a long vacation, be prepared! Pack atleast 3 cases of beer in case of an avalanche. You never know when your going to have to pee your way out of a snowbank.

This is the most compelling argument that I've ever seen in favor of alcoholic beverages and beer in general.

Edited to add the right link since I'm an unobservant idiot. Thanks Krista.

Wicked Interview no. 2

2005-01-27T07:43:00.000-08:00

After interviewing Kelly, I realized that she was one of those people that I will never really know. She is smart, talented, spunky and sweet. She rarely watches tv and hates when people read over her shoulder. (God, I hate that too!) She loves musicals, flavored lip gloss and Old Navy Jeans. Kelly is ultra-competitive and currently attending school to get her Ph.D. Get this folks, she turned down the opportunity to go to Medical School. She is one smart cookie. She plays the violin and only eats nuts when she wants to swell up to the size of Kirstie Alley. Kelly loves to have her neck kissed and secretly fantasizes about Dave Matthews.

Kelly, you handled my invasive questions with amazing aplomp. I'm honored to call you my friend. Online or otherwise.

On to the questions -

1. What's your name and do you know what it would have been, had you been a boy?

My name is Kelly. I don't post my last name online, but let me assure you that my first and last named coupled are the most unoriginal pair ever. My mother wanted to give me a good Irish name. She was hell bent on me being a girl. If I had been a boy, she probably would have demanded that the doctor perform a little "cosmetic surgery" and I could be really screwed up right now. ;-)

Well, look on the bright side. If the doctor had screwed up and left the "boy stuff", your name would have been appropriate either way.

*Shakes at the thought of Kelly the hermaphrodite*

Boy stuff is icky. I am glad I lacked the parts from birth.

2. Do you have any children? What are their names? If you don't have any, do you have any names picked out?

I don't have children. But if I ever have a son, his name will be Lysander after the character from Shakesphere's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" because I think it is a beautiful name. And I will kick the shit out of any of his little classmates that try to make fun of him because of it. See...thinking ahead. :)

Why don't you just name him "Sue"?

Hmph. You are one of the evil parents I will need the taser for. Oh yes. I will dominate the PTA to make sure those bitches don't make fun of my son's beautiful name.

Hey, remind me not to piss you off.

3. Do you hate the very thought of children and completely resent the last question?

I hate the thought of pushing something roughly the size of a watermelon out of a hole smaller than a tennis ball. Other than that, I think kids are great, which is why I plan to adopt any that I have. Besides the obvious selfish reasons, it isn't important to me that my children actually have my blood and there are so many already here that aren't being given a fair shot so I'd rather give an opportunity to one of those than bring another into the world. If this is an issue for my future husband, I might consider having one. Or perhaps by then the wonders of science will allow him to carry our love child to term. One can only hope.

Adoption is a very honorable choice. I'm always astounded at the selflessness of foster parents and adoptive parents. Plus, you have something to blackmail them with when they're
sixteen.

Plus if they come out fucked up, I won't have to worry that it was MY recessive genes that did it. *nods*

Yea, I've always wondered how my Mom felt about that...

4. How many brothers and sisters do you have? Tell me a funny story about you and a sibling. (if you have one)

I have one brother who is 11 years old. When he was in pre-K, he went to a private Baptist school. They were putting on their little Christmas pagent so I went to watch. And there I see my brother, sitting in a pew, with one arm around one girl and one arm around another. A player at 5 years old. *shakes head* I blame my mother. She taught him how to do pretty eyes at the ladies in the hair salon to get extra candy. Ever since then, he flirts with everyone.

I know how them Baptist' are. Playas. My over-sexed husband is a Baptist. A BIG ASS Southern one.

I once dated a guy who was Southern Baptist. I am nondenominational and his pastor told us we were both going to hell, me for not being baptist and my bf for "yolking with an unbeliever".

Yea, I tried "yolking" once, I found it to be a bit messy for my tastes.

5. What's your current occupation and what was the WORST job ever.

I am a student by day and citylife goddess by night. I also work on a Crisis Hotline and at an impatient clinic for homeless drug addicts who have been dually diagnosed with mental disorders. I do clinical assessments there. But I don't get paid for any of that. My worst job ever was in the fast-food industry when I was 16. Never EVER again.

Did you go home smelling like fried chicken every day?

No. There was no chicken involved. And if there would have been I would have refused to touch it.

*Sigh* You're a lucky girl Kelly. My first job was at Kentucky Fried Chicken and the supervisor walked around the restaurant with no shoes on. Fried chicken will never be the same.

6. If you were a condiment; which condiment would you be and why?

Salsa. Because it's hot and addicting and will surprise you when your gaurd is down. ;)

I hope you don't burn anyone's mouth... Hot Cha cha cha.

7. I read on your blog that your 4'11" tall; tell me one way in which being "shorter" has affected your personality.

It has made me the queen of batting my eyelashes to get boys to do things for me. This skill was derived from first being cute in order to commission boys to get tall things, but it has overflowed into other aspects of life for which I sometimes require a manslave...err...assistant. :)

Does this require the use of leather as well? I could let you borrow my C's cuffs.

8. When you lay your head down at night, to drift off after a long days work, what is the one thing that is sure to spring to mind.

"6 a.m. is going to hurt". LOL.

Especially after a party filled with margaritas and "assistance from the assistant".

9. Have you ever had sex in a car? Give me every juicy detail.

Looking for some ideas, Jenn? ;) Nice girls don't kiss and tell. :P

It was worth a try.

10. Do you believe in Astrology (i.e. horoscopes, palm reading, fortune telling) or in other words- Hey baby, What's your sign?

No. And if a guy ever said that to me I would contemplate kicking him.

Or you could punch him. Especially if he's really REALLY tall, because then it would be right at that perfect height for him to truly remember not to EVER ask you about your sign again. ;-)

---------------------------------------------------------

I SO want to party with you Kelly.

Go. Check her out. Leave a comment.
(Tell her that Jenny sent you.)

ASS-ay contest

2005-01-26T18:42:00.000-08:00

It's time to tell everyone all about your ass. Or your girlfriends ass. A well written comedy starring your baby's cute little pinchable bottom would work. I know that almost everyone reading my blog is a writer, take the time to type up a cute story about anything ass-related and you could win FAME and FORTUNE. Ok, maybe it will be nothing more than notoriety and a free gmail account, but think about the fun! See below -

Hello Ass Fans!The Girls here at The Ass Chronicles need your help.We're desperate for more ASSertiveness, ASSociates and ASSignations.So, if you've been asking yourself "what about MY ass?", now is YOUR time. Email us ass.chronicles@gmail.com your best ASS story pertaining to pretty much *anything ASS related. (Perhaps a story about your own ass, a friend's ass, a celebrity ass, the chick from the coffee shop's ass, or even a cute little baby ass.) If we find it hilarious and vote your story one of the top 3 funnies, we will post it on our blog. In fact, we will post your story, and a glowing review of YOUR ass on every one of our blogs. Plus, we will link to you here on The Ass Chronicles and send you a Gmail invite to boot. Email us YOUR ass story and if we laugh our asses off - You win!

*Keep it PG-13 please.

Just ask me.

2005-01-25T20:20:00.000-08:00

Tonight, time honored traditions spanning the decades were proven true; yet again.

It was about 10pm and we were relaxing with a cup of coffee on the front porch (yea, we're a bunch of old farts) and C decides to bring out the telescope. Excellent idea in light of the almost totally full moon. He drags out the ~~clunky~~ large telescope and gets it all set up and then heads off, back into the house. Krista and I sat there for atleast 5 minutes, chatting and basking in the moonlight while we listened to C rummage about in the house. I could hear him searching through the desk and then on to the bedroom and the highboy, eventually he even made his way into the garage. Finally, he yanks open the front door and stands over us with his hands on his hips and states (in a surly tone) "Where is my eyepiece?!" (the little black thingy-ma-bob that attaches to the telescope and allows us mere mortals to view the moon's craters. Why he doesn't know where his expensive toy .. stuff is; is beyond me.)

With all of the grace that I could muster - I walk inside and straight to the basket that holds the eyepiece.

Next time, oh ye of so much testosterone - just ask me.

What A little girl

2005-01-24T16:52:00.000-08:00

I’ve done it, I have finally pried Jennifer’s cute ass out of the computer chair and have (temporarily) seized control. I had to kick her out to be able to tell everyone what a little girl Miss Krista is. I had to do it, because Jenn wouldn’t.

Let me preface this by saying, I haven’t laughed this hard in a LONG time. It was about 9:00 o’clock or so on Sunday night and all the kids were in bed (amazing story in and of itself) and I finally had some time to sit and watch my hunting shows without kid or grown up interruption. So there I was laying on the bed, enjoying my cereal and my TV when in comes the gruesome twosome. As K walks by, she turns my TV off. She knows how terribly bad this annoys me because she made the mistake of doing this once before, in the middle of overtime during a Dallas Stars playoff game. Not a pretty sight. Well now, she MUST pay. I have to wait until the opportune moment. I am sitting there, thinking of ~~how I can torture her~~ what I can do and BAM!, the perfect opportunity presents itself. Krista sits on the edge of the bathtub and is talking with Jenn and she suddenly falls over backwards into the tub. That was funny, but it wasn’t the funniest part. She commences to make herself comfortable sitting in the bathtub with her feet on the edge, so I jump into action. The bedroom door was already closed, so I get up and turn off the bedroom light. Then I turn off the closet light, and finally the bathroom light. It was DARK and she couldn’t see me. She starts frantically yelling “stop it, stop it”, all the while, I am sneaking closer to the bathtub. Based on how graceful she is , I know she wasn’t about to try and get out of the tub in the dark Jenn is just dying laughing and K’s squealing, so I go in for the kill shot. I sneak up to the tub and slowly reach over and grab her ankle. If I hadn’t known better, you would have sworn that she had been shot. She let out the loudest, blood curling scream that I have ever heard. It was all I could do to keep from falling on the floor laughing.

What a little girl!

(Guest post by Chris.)

What threatened to drive me crazy-

2005-01-23T14:00:00.000-08:00

-Realizing that I need to put milk on the grocery list when we get down to only one GALLON left. My kids are going to start moo'ing.

-Watching my best friend make macaroni-n-cheese in the most difficult way possible. Instead of just dumping everything in the pan after she drained the pasta, she has to mix the milk that has been measured in the CLEAN measuring cup with the powdered cheese ever so perfectly in a seperate CLEAN bowl and then use a CLEAN spatula to scrape the cheesy milk from the sides of the now DIRTY bowl.

Just dump it in the damn pan already miss ocd queen!!

(Although, I must say that it was MOST excellent macaroni-n-cheese.)

-Watching the 2 pre-teen divas bicker endlessly while cleaning their room. Or something that resembled cleaning.

-Taking care of not one but two sick children. My poor little babies.

-Getting my ass stomped at pool.

What kept me sane -

-Realizing that more often than not, the radio will go up louder than the kids can yell.

-Date night with Chris and all of the chinese food that I could eat, cold beer that I could drink, and pool ... oh the pool. I don't want to even discuss the pool. (Maybe I should move this one to the crazy side... )

-Her blonde moments that bring me so much laughter. For example, tonight when she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub chatting with me and ever so gracefully tumbles backwards into the bathtub. Classic.

-His kisses.

How was your weekend?

I'm getting my ASS kicked.

2005-01-22T08:59:00.000-08:00

Well internet, I'm afraid that I'm down for the count. I'm getting my
ASS KICKED by css. Cascading style sheets have become the bane of my subsistence. I promised Krista that I would design a new template for her, and I'm afraid that she is actually going to MAKE me follow through.

What I've been doing for the past 3 days -

Working my way through the css and html tutorials at W3C.

Working through and finishing the w3school for css.

Downloading StyleMaster in an effort to cheat the complicated css system, to no avail.

Copy and pasting NUMEROUS css templates and picking them apart in a fruitless effort to recreate the css genius of others.

Pulling my hair out.

I consider myself a fairly intelligent woman, with a decent grasp on html, tables, graphic design, etc., but css is somehow alluding me. The more I learn, the less I know.

If ANYONE out there in the world wide internet knows of ANY way possible for me to learn css AND keep my hair, please point me in the right direction. I need a hands on, step-by-step tutorial for creating a BLOGGER template using css. I have the graphics completely DONE, the colors chose, the words written and the css is completely, absolutely FUCKED. Do I sound frustrated? GOOD.

Help.

Wicked Interview no. 1

2005-01-19T14:23:00.000-08:00

As I wander in out of your blogs, reading and getting to know you, I find myself wanting to know more. I find myself wanting to know things that no meme has ever covered; like what type of toothpaste you use and if you like to have your ears nibbled. I felt myself being transported back, way back to 1990 and my brief stint as a hard-hitting reporter for the PaImer high school yearbook committee. {*sigh* the good 'ole days} I feel the need to get to know you better, to unlock the secrets to your hidden laundry habits and shower gel preferences. Did you go to your Senior Prom? Did you get the girl? Do you wear socks with your sandals?

I couldn't decide who to begin with first, but pride took over and dictated that I start with the person closest to me. That way, if I fuck up royally or make myself look like a total ass, it will have been in front of someone who HAS to like me. My sister-friend, Krista was ~~forced~~ happy to be my first interviewee. Wicked.

Hey sweetie, Thank you SO much for being my first participant. Just think when I'm famous and on the Oprah show for my in depth blogger interviews, you can say that you were the first. Haha!

I'm really excited to be here and to be able to participate in such a
landmark event. It's an honor I will cherish and carry to my grave. I
am getting a plaque for this right?

Ummmm... well... actually, I wasn't planning on giving out plaques. I was thinking about making a bunch of those really cool buttons like we did in 6th grade. Remember those? Buttons are super-duper cool. Plaques are so 1993. But, if you really REALLY want a plaque, I'll make sure that you get one.

I want my damn plaque.

Fine, ok. Such hostility! Can we move on to the questions now?

Ok.

Tell me your name, age, occupation, marital status and anything else extremely personal that you wouldn't mind the entire internet knowing about.

What's in a name? I have several, the most common being my birth name, Krista Michelle. I will be the ripe age of 33 come July 23rd. I am currently self employed, but desperately seeking a full time job with benefits, like a regular paycheck. I have been divorced since 2001, and recently broke off an engagement.

Don't you mean the ripe OLD age of 33?

No, I didn't mean that.

and just how big of an asshole was your ex?

Yeah, I can pick them can't I?

That's an understatement.

Where did you grow up and did anything in particular happen to permanently scar your eating habits.

I grew up in a small town in North Central Texas, on a street called Cosey. I grew up in a southern home, with the mentality that you will try everything on the table. You don't have to like it, but you have to try it. I absolutely hated oatmeal. Well, my mother decided to force me to eat it. Wasn't pretty, I threw up oatmeal all over the kitchen. So, yeah, you could say I was scarred by that. I have serious texture issues when it comes to food now.

Ewwww. I'm sorry I asked.

Who was your best friend, and is she the most wonderful, trusted friend you've ever had in your whole entire life?

Um...well. She's this mentally unbalanced redhead, quite quirky, would lose her ass if it wasn't attached and is absolutely the coolest chic I know.

Maybe I she should try that losing the ass trick... Do you just let go and it falls off, or what?

Yeah, I know...I was in the closet the other day gossiping with her pants, you wouldn't believe the shit they were saying about her ass. I just don't have the heart to tell her, so that's off the record.

What are you trying to say?

{Note: Folks the funniest part about the last two responses is that we actually do talk like that. And we understand each other. }

Moving on.

Tell me about your first car.

Oh my...this brings back some serious memories. It was a 1985 Ford Tempo, four door, and it was powder blue. It broke down atleast once a week and more often than not, while you were driving it. I loved that car though, it was the first car I had and the first car I ever bought
on my own. It was also the biggest piece of shit, I have a certificate to prove it.

Yea. That car hated me.

Where was your first place of employment and did your boss wear a hairpiece?

My first job ever? When I was 14 I worked in a soda shop owned by one of my mom's friends. I got to eat ice cream all day so it was cool. I also learned how to make cream gravy while working there. She did not wear a hear piece, she did however wear a wig. (I swear I did not make that up)

Tell me about your 8th grade banquet dress.

Why must you get personal?

Because I just can't help myself. And besides, you were FUCKING ADORABLE in that poofy fuschia gown with the sky-high beehive and purple glittery eyeshadow.

Fuck you. Just for that, I will come into your room one night, after you've fallen asleep and smother you with your own pillow.

Wow. Such hostility! Remind me to get you drunk BEFORE we start the interview, instead of during.

Who was your very first kiss? Are you still in contact with him or do you atleast know which Country he lives in?

I remember this like it was yesterday, I was 14, and his name was Eric. His grandmother lived next door to my aunt, and our mothers had grown up together. It was my first date, and his mom took us to the movies. He kissed me on the way home that night, in the back seat of his mom's Trans Am. He was HOT, he had a mustache too. Hey, back then that was cool. The last I heard, He's still living in Scurry, married with two kids.

What is your favorite vegetable?

Potatoes, hands down. Their just so flexible.

I concur. Potatoes are quite exceptional for cooking and shooting purposes. Or atleast thats what my redneck cousin told me.

What's your favorite comfort food?

This is by far the hardest questions yet. It's just impossible to narrow it down to just one. I once consumed an entire Boston Cream Pie, after a break up.

Why am I not suprised.

Shut the fuck up.

Tsk tsk. Such words for a pretty girl.

Tell me about your favorite scent of all time.

It would be the smell of my grandmothers house. Her pillows always smelled musty. It brings back fond memories of the year we lived on the coast.

Mmmmm... Must. One of my favorite smells of all time. Right up there with skunk and hot beer.

Are you trying to piss me off? Is this the way you conduct an interview? We can take this outside.

Actually, no I wasn't trying to piss you off, but obviously that's not a difficult task. =)

Do you have any kids? Do they know that you're a comment whore?

I have a wonderful 12 year old walking emotional time bomb. Not many people know that I'm a comment whore. It's not something I planned. It just happend. To be honest, I'm really not proud of it. I'm currently seeking therapy for it.

Maybe you could try some anger management classes while you're at it?

What are the three things that you would take with you on a deserted island.

Depends, do I have electricity? Just how deserted are we talking? I'm confused...I don't like this question either.

The island is DESERTED Krista.

Ok ok ok. A lifetime supply of jerky, Ben Burnley, and a lifetime supply of condoms.

So you intend to eat and have sex. Sounds like a plan.

What are you afraid of?

Water, large bodies of water. There are things in there that can eat me. Or worse, enter my body in places that we won't discuss. That's just not cool.

Yea, that sounds painful. I can dig it. *snort*

Did you just snort?

Ahem! What are you most proud of?

My friends and family. I hit the lottery when it comes to the outstanding support group I have.

Do you like Katie Couric, and if so WHY?

Did she do a guest shot on Will and Grace? I don't really know anything about her, so I can't really answer that.

Trust me. You wouldn't like her.

Tell me why you liked/hated this interview.

I loved it, because I was the first! No one will ever be before me.

Plus I get a plaque right?

Ok. Ok! I'll get you a damn plaque. Could you shut up about that already?

You rock.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'll shut up now and give you a chance to ask Krista some highly personal questions of your own. Show her some love.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that concludes our first interview. Thanks for sticking around this long. If you would like to be the subject of a Wicked Interview, please e-mail me.

Where they try to win you over with cuteness.

2005-01-18T09:36:00.000-08:00

My kids think that they can force me to forgive all transgressions; just because they're so cute that I want to eat them with a spoon, BUT I am on to their game.

Clayton is guilty of the following and SO MUCH MORE.

Exhibit A - Today as I'm making his lunch he hiccups loudly.

Clayton - "HICCUP!" *pause* ""Hiccup!" *pause* "Mommy, Clayton has the hiccups."

This is the first time EVER that he has referred to himself in the third person. I'm sorry, but that is entirely too cute and therefore unacceptable.

Exhibit B - He has quirks on top of quirks. Quirkiness could be construed as adorable. As I'm finishing his sandwich he yells from the living room "Don't fowget to cut into a pizza!"

I'm sorry, but just typing that gave me the giggles.

These kids must be stopped before they take over everything with the cuteness! Umm... well... before they take the rest of it over!

An "Aha!" moment

2005-01-18T06:00:00.000-08:00

I've never met an ice cream that I didn't like.
Krista and I were discussing our favorites and she was explaining her penchant for the finer ice creams. I realized that I don't care what brand it is, I'm going to eat it. And eat it. And eat it. And that internet, is why I need to become lactose intolerant. I need to take a pill, or get a shot, or undergo some sort of deep hypnosis, that will MAKE me lactose intolerant. They have a pill for everything but noooo, not for the really important stuff. Like saving your ass from dairy products.

These are things that I have never, ever said about ice cream-

"Ewww... this ice cream is horrible!"
"Yuck! Way, way too creamy."
"Too much chocolate."
"Are these fresh strawberries? Gross!"
"Does this have nuts? I hate nuts!"

These are things that I have said about ice cream-

"OhMyGod, this chocolate chip cookie dough taste like how love feels! SWEET."
"Peppermint ice cream makes me want to skip about and twirl, twirl, twirl!"
"Hot hot hot fudge... yea...mmmm...ahhh... GOD! YES!"
"Can I have extra whipped cream? Please. "

Reason #412 why I live in a small town.

2005-01-17T19:45:00.000-08:00

As I'm walking into the super-behemoth-discount-store today, I realize that I've forgotten my all-important list. NOOO! I say to myself as I stomp a little bit and pirouette around to head BACK to my truck. I pushed my basket into a corner and ~~walked~~ stalked back outside, into the cold. As I hop into the truck and fondle my key fob I realize that I don't have a purse. I have a keyfob, but no purse. Wait a minute. Did I bring my purse? My mind goes blank for about 30 seconds and I start to frantically search my truck, front and back seat for my lost ~~mind~~ purse. Can you feel how my heart was pounding? Let me first say that there was maybe $3.17, a checkbook, a drivers license and a great lipgloss in my purse, but not much else. It's just replacing these things, and the pain in the ass that it becomes that makes me go frantic at the thought of losing them. Plus, I have a REALLY great drivers license picture right now. I'm never renewing the picture. Ever. Because what are the chances of getting a good drivers license picture? I digress.

My purse is FUCKING GONE! I jump out of the truck and restrain myself from running through the parking lot and frisking each person as they try to make their escape. I almost shoved some poor old lady down in my haste. I'M NOT KIDDING. Don't laugh, it isn't funny. I felt bad. Don't worry, I caught her before she hit the cement.

The happy ending.
I dashed to the corner where I stashed my basket after saving the old lady and what to my wandering eyes should appear. Of course, my purse. It was sitting there as if I never left it. I was reminded of the other time that I left my purse in the PARKING LOT of the super-behemoth-discount-store. Yea, I've done it twice now.

The moral of the story is this- People in small towns are super-duper nice and they don't steal purses from absent-minded domestic ~~goddesses~~ dumbasses.

Coming Soon!

2005-01-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

I'm jumping around like a jackrabbit on crack. Why you ask? Because I'm excited! Fickle Whimsy is getting all dressed up. *breaks into a little dance jig*

Kelly from Pure Serendipity is the goddess of graphics. I would rub her feet and feed her chocolates if I could.

Thank you so much Kelly, again.

I loved it...

2005-01-15T07:20:00.000-08:00

when you came home from school yesterday and presented me with a card for a free meal at Chick-fil-A. Because baby, free is good.

But, I'm more proud of why you earned that card. Keeping your desk orderly ALL YEAR LONG, is an awesome accomplishement. Especially in light of the fact that your Mom can't keep her desk clean for more than 15 minutes. Much less 9 weeks.

Thank God she takes after her Grandmother.

Yummy Meme Goodness!

2005-01-14T21:29:00.000-08:00

Here's some yummy meme goodness brought to YOU by Fickle Whimsy...

Appetizer:
If you could have a free subscription to any online service, which would you like to have?

1. All of the credits I can spend at iStockphoto.

2. Unlimited downloading of songs on Musicmatch.

3. ~~Millions~~ Bazillions of credits from BlogClicker and/or BlogExplosion. Whichever.

Soup:
Describe your bathroom (furnishings, colors, etc.).

Three words. BIG ASS BATHTUB. Does anything else matter?

Salad:
What does the shape of a triangle make you think of?

Grilled cheese sandwiches. Because, you MUST cut grilled cheese sandwiches into triangles, in order for them to be edible.

Main Course:
Name 3 things or activities that you consider to be luxuries.

1. Taking a long leisurly dip in the hottub. I will never take my hottub for granted. Never. Ever.

2. Manicures/Pedicures.

3. Going out to eat. As opposed to cooking and then hearing children whine about how they hate this, and are NOT going to eat that.

Dessert:
What was the last really great movie you watched?

50 First Dates is still topping my favorites list at the moment.

Stay tuned for more yummy meme goodness after these commercial breaks.

I love...

2005-01-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

how you only made a single, solitary subtle comment about the "excessive noise" last night.

Uhmm... Sorry about that. Blame Chris. I bet you never realized how much fun it would be crashing on my couch, did you?

Edited to add: Ok people. I've had 247 page loads thus far today and only my best friend has been compelled to comment. She HAS to comment or I put ants in her linens.

Out of Order.

2005-01-14T06:49:00.000-08:00

Phew. I'm tired, a little sore, yet, in a really good mood. Last night, Krista and I made our weekly trek to the local watering hole. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm not the super mom that some SAHM's are. I can't live with my kids all day, EVERY DAY and still like them consistently. I need to get away from them in order to appreciate them. Plus, I do need to keep up my rigorous flirt schedule. I wouldn't want to get rusty.

Anyway. We ended up at a new place last night called "Fat Moe's". It was a very refreshing change from our regular biker-hangout/honky-tonk/good 'ole boy dive. This bar is situated underneath the historic Rogers Hotel and you have to walk downstairs to get there. (Which, when you really think about it, is a good thing. It's much safer to walk down the stairs sober and up the stairs drunk.) As we walked down the stairs to expose ourself to the room, we realized that this is going to be similar to the Boxcar. The room was positively teeming with men. Upon entering, I spied only a handful of women. Despite my outstounding record as a top quality flirt, I do get a bit nervous being surrounded by so many of the male persuasion. Especially, those of the DRUNK male persuasion.

The first stop was of course the Ladies room. (Women know that when you go to a new club/bar, the very first thing you do is figure out where the potty is. This is essential.) Upon our return, we ran into someone we knew and immediately ordered beers. After a few minutes of chatting, the pool table started to call my name and I couldn't stand it any longer. However with only 2 pool tables and one of them being broken, I was forced to steal the table away from the 4 drunken men who were drinking Tequila by the boatload. I promise you, these men were nice and polite when we first walked in, but by the end of the 2nd game they were TOAST. Each of them consumed 2 large shots during the course of the 2 games and by the time those 2 fateful shots were gone, they were reduced to slobbering piles of goo. It was just too easy. One of them even attempted to hump Krista's leg.

My pool skills were MAD last night. I was making bank shots, and rail shots, and cutting like no tomorrow. The tall guy with the buzz cut was flirting and sending me shy looks. Mr. Ostrich boots was trying to twirl me around the pool tables as someone else slaughtered Lonestar's Amazed. Between the unabashed attention from the 4 drunken amigos, I was feeling pretty damn special. (In that short bus kind of way.) Isn't it hilarious when you can hear people whispering about you? I knew that they were wondering if my single platinum band was a wedding ring, because drunk people don't whisper very quietly.

As we finished the 2nd game of pool, I excused myself to go the ladies room. Upon entering the bathroom, I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror in absolute horror for atleast 10 minutes. My fly was open. My fly was open for THE ENTIRE TIME WE HAD BEEN THERE. The 2 pool games, the 2 beers, the twirling with Mr. Ostrich boots and flirting with buzz head had ALL been accompanied by MY BLACK PANTIES being displayed for the world to see.

Do you know who didn't tell me that my fly was open for ATLEAST AN HOUR?

My friend.

However, she did take a sign off of my ass that read "out of order". Next time, maybe you could take the sign that someone attaches to my ass and place it over the wide open crotch area? Thanks.

The beginning of the End... Or not?

2005-01-13T09:39:00.000-08:00

Does sex come to a screeching halt when the proverbial knot is tied?

One website seems to think so. NoMarriage.com is under the impression, like so many others, that marriage is a death wish.

One writer states- “I can remember my last blow job like it was yesterday. Actually it was six years ago the day before I got married. Sex then was four to five times a week. Now I have a four-year-old son who sleeps in my bed with my wife more nights a week than I do. Sex now maybe once a month. Triple that for vacation sex. I have noticed that the rate goes up for a short period of time but drops off quickly when large purchases are made (house, Landrover, shopping sprees, new floors, etc). I am thirty-eight, not happy, and slowly methodically plotting my way out. I always love the look in the eyes of my friends who say that won't happen to them.”

It's attitudes like this that makes marriage so undesirable to so many people. I don’t know what this dude was doing wrong, but perhaps it wasn’t her fault. Maybe he didn’t like to reciprocate. Maybe he just laid there like a beached whale and forgot that she actually had something called a g-spot. I wonder if he can spell the word clit?

Another writer adds- “Wife is overweight, no sex, doesn't cook anything not in a can. 3 kids. I am stuck. I can't even cheat on her since we do a mail order company out of the house. No alone time, no peace. I think I am going crazy. Oh, another fun aspect - wife is a born again Christian, so if I bring up the sex issue she uses the bible to justify herself. I argue that, and kazzam, I am Satan, and no sex for Satan. If I do not argue, no sex for me either.”

I’m not even going to bother trying to dissect this one. He definitely has his own issues to deal with. But trust me, this is not the way it has to be. Have you guys ever seen the movie Phenomenon? There is a scene in that movie that totally exemplifies the point that I’m trying to make.

Doc: Banes....how's your lady love?
Banes: We...um...we broke up.
Doc: Really, that's too bad, yeah. Now George has a love at his side and she is sticking with him. You know why? Because he bought her chairs. That's pretty smart to me. You ever buy Lisa's chairs?'
Banes: Doc's real drunk tonight.
Doc: Every woman has her chairs, something she needs to put herself into, Banes. You ever figure out what Lisa's chairs were and buy them?

(I realize this may make absolutely no sense if you haven't seen the movie, but work with me... )

In every relationship there is going to be a situation where you will have to figure out what your lover’s “chair” is. Find out what it is that makes them tick. What turns them on? Investigate. Try new things. Work. Practice. Find out what that “thing” is that makes them want to come back for more and then hone it to a fine art.

C and I have always had a very healthy sex life. But, it was more of a quantity over quality type of thing. We we're fucking like rabbits, but not taking the time to learn the nuances and innuendos that lovers need to learn. See. That’s something wonderful about aging. As we grow older, we get smarter. Yea, we also get more forgetful; but that’s what post-its are for. I digress.

The timing was finally right. The moon was in perfect alignment with Venus. I’m not sure, but something has been floating our boat, so to speak. It’s amazing what good sex can do for your overall well-being and mood. I look at all of these crabby people on the roads and in the stores and I think to myself.

Self- "That puckered up old hag needs to get LAID."

So, in conclusion I’d like to remind all of you puckered up old hags, to just have a good romp in the hay from time to time. Fuck like rabbits. Squeal like a pig. You’re going to thank me.

And to all of you bored husbands and tired housewives - play a little. Turn out the lights. Kiss in the car at the red light. Make time to be lovers. Marriage doesn’t have to be the beginning of the end of your sex life.

Trust me.

Why, why, why...

2005-01-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

Why is it that the silly dog has to be in MY lap all the time?

I don't carry bacon in my pocket. I don't even invite him into my lap. In fact, I discourage it! If I'm at the desk, he wants to be in my lap, right under my keyboard tray. If I'm on the couch, watching a movie, he wants to be wrapped around my feet, or under my ass (dumb dog), or behind my head, or wherever is most inconvenient for me. I told him just a few minutes ago, as he looks up at me with those soft brown puppy dog eyes - "NO, I do not want you in my lap! Can't you see that I'm busy here?" Right before he hops up into my comfort zone like he belongs there. Mhhmm... I was kidding. Right. I really do want you resting your adorable little head right on my arm, so that I'm completely incapable of reaching my mouse and keyboard. Yea.

Dog- Can't you see that I'm in a mood. It's possible that I could catapult your little 4 pound body through the air and HOPEFULLY you will land in a furry heap on the couch. Hopefully... Then I would have guilt and stress and I would feel obligated to feed you the yummiest bits of beef from my dinner plate and WAIT.. a damn minute. I already do that.

I think I'm being played by a 4lb. Miniature Chihuahua.

Domino
Posted by: ficklewhimsy.

The 4lb miniature chihuahua casanova.

Where you fall asleep standing up.

2005-01-10T11:43:00.000-08:00

This was how I found my daughter at 12am on Saturday night. She was practically standing on the floor, but her shoulders and head was on the bed, sleeping soundly. I'm not sure if the cat just found her head comfy, or if she was protecting Ally from the alien parental units.

These Women.

2005-01-06T09:58:00.000-08:00

The women of this family were strong and independent. They loved with all of their heart and soul and suffered heartache because of it. They didn't ask for much. They didn't complain often. They worked together to make life better for the whole.

There were never many men around. Well, they came and they went but most didn't stay forever. They learned to live without them. These women were strong. Determined.

These women were single mothers and hard workers. They earned a decent wage and still took the time to make dinner every night. No amount of blisters or bruises could stop them from providing for their families. They excelled. These women knew what it took.

This one woman was lucky. She was married to a strong man who could work to help raise her family. They started off slow and built a good life and he got lazy. But, this mother didn't quit. She just worked harder. She always made sure that her kids were taken care of and loved. Even after he left. She was now like them. A single working mother who chose to do the right thing. She worked two jobs and spent more time on her feet than off of them. Her kids missed their mom, but she knew that one day they would understand. The sacrifice that she paid to give them a good life. And they did... and they do...

These women were strong, willful, determined and kind. They ARE always eager to help clean a house, babysit the kids, make a dinner, share a bed.

These women are my family.

This is a repost from last year when I was still writing on AndSheSaid.

credit card trauma

2005-01-05T08:10:00.000-08:00

The problem.
I have credit card trauma. Seriously. I'm not sure that I'm ever going shopping again without cold hard cash.

The Explanation.
My husband gets referalls through his job that translate into cash for us. As an engineer with SBC he is encouraged to sell phone lines, accessories, blah blah blah. Well, these "rewards" are then transferred to something resembling a credit card. Really, it's more like a Target gift card, because they sure as hell don't tolerate overages.

The Fiasco.
I'm happily shopping (KID-FREE) in my local H-E-B yesterday for lunch stuff, coffee filters, fruit loops, puffy cheetos; you know the usual stuff. I'm enjoying my rare opportunity to actually read labels and walk slowly; I'm not chasing after my racing shopping cart or picking up a display of 430 cans of creamed corn spilled all over the aisle or even visiting the bakery more than three times for free samples of oatmeal cookies. I'm just minding my own damn business, buying some food. As I complete my grocery store trek with a large bag of Kibbles and Bits, I make my way to the checkout escalator thingy and lay out all of my ~~junk~~ healthy food. The sweet little red headed boy smiles at me and asks me how my morning is going as he swipes my oreos across the red flashy thingy. (I'm sure that this item will come out as the leading cause of pupil cancer in the next 10 years or so. ) As he continues scanning my food, I begin to sweat a little bit because I remember C's warning that there was only $98 left on our "reward" card. My hands get jittery and my palms get sweaty and my left eyebrow starts doing its little twitchy dance. I HATE being short of money. When he finishes and my total rings up to be $66.15, I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Because OH MY GOD, I don't want to have to put back the nine rolls of reduced price Christmas wrap and white chocolate covered Oreos. Smiling like a wicked child who has just found a stack of Playboys, I swipe my credit card and immediately stick it back in my purse for FUTURE USE. I have atleast $30.oo left to blow!

The rest happened in slow motion.

DECLINED!!!! the little lcd screen on the credit card machine reads.

"No, no, no" I frantically chant to sweet redheaded boy. "This can't be right. My husband TOLD me that we have $98.00 on this card. HE TOLD ME SO."

"Scan it again!" I practically yell at the poor kid.

DECLINED!!!! the little fucker of an lcd screen said again.

At this point, I just put my hands over my face and slump over a little. The poor little sweet redheaded boy is looking around frantically thinking that I'm going to have a nervous breakdown at any second. I almost did.

But, I pulled myself together. I stood up straight, grabbed my useless "reward" card off the counter and stated loudly that my husband was NEVER seeing me naked again.

The Solution.

Never shop again without cold hard cash.

Never look directly into the red flashing scanner thing.

Never trust "rewards".

Be very wary of any numbers resembling "666".

($66.15 - coincidence? I think not.)

Never let my husband see me naked again. Or for atleast 72 hours.

I want my t-shirt.

2005-01-04T19:38:00.000-08:00

5 minutes ago I deleted my first weird-ass comment. Does that make it official? Am I now part of some top-secret, super-cool club? Do I get my nifty blogger ID card now? I want my t-shirt.

Humble but happy.

2005-01-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

Shhhhh. be very quiet.... do you hear that?

Me neither!

I love the first day back to school after a long holiday break. I ~~lugged my lazy ass~~ practically leapt out of bed at 6am this morning. Ironically enough, my 8-year old was already up, dressed and fed when I finally made it to the kitchen. Ally (mine) and Bethany (hers) had made plans last night to get up early this morning and get ready for school without having to rush. I, being the true procrastinator and sleep-lover that I am, scoffed at their lofty goal.

Umm, is this where I admit that I was wrong?

Pre-teen Divas - 1
Facetious Mom - 0

Where I break my arm patting myself on the back.

2005-01-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

I am standing on my head with excitement right now. Really, it's not that big of a deal; my good news. But, to ME; it's a cool accomplishement and a goal met.

I just received an email congratulating me on being a new contributing photographer at iStockphoto. Yea baby. I've really worked hard over the past 2 years to improve my photography skills. I upgraded from a 2 megapixel Sony Mavica, to a 6.3 megapixel Canon Digital Rebel. I took classes at Wolfe Camera on all of the basics of photography. I bought books and actually read them! I also took about a billion pictures, before I finally became confident enough in my photography to share it online. Sharing my work with people who look at tons of AWESOME pictures every day was ~~fucking hard~~ not the easiest thing that I've ever done. I'll grudgingly admit to being scared stiff of rejection. To be accepted... well, I guess it validates all of the work and thought that I've put into my photography over the last 2 years.

Yea, I'm going to have the cover of Time magazine any day now.

Well, a girl can dream.

I love it...

2004-12-30T21:28:00.000-08:00

I love it when you take your bra off at night and the girl's practically squeal with delight. Mmmhmm. It's good to get comfy.

A and B and why I don't have enough medication to keep me sane.

2004-12-29T23:01:00.000-08:00

If you're a new reader or just lacking in short-term memory (like me) then you may not be aware that my best friend and her daughter moved in with me and mine right before Christmas. Just a few days before Christmas in case you were wondering. My daughter, Ally (who is a pre-teen 8-year-old diva) is sharing a bedroom with K's daughter, Bethany (a slightly older pre-teen diva). These two girls alone could crack the demeanor of even the most patient of nuns or priests or blind-deaf-mute persons. They can be on occasion (read: OFTEN) just.that.annoying. Not only are these two girls fashion afficionados, they also love animals, crafts, cooking, singing, sewing, exercising or just about anything that Krista and I have decided to do. (Or so it seems.)

Allyson is the type of young, sweet girl to burst into impromptu tears without a breath of notice.

Me - "Allyson, did you finish your homework/chores/whatever?"
Allyson - (Impromptu bursting of the tears ensues) "BUUUTT MOOOMMMM, I'm woooorking o-o-oo-onn it" *sniffle* *hiccup* *sniffle* *more gratuitous sniffling*
Me - "Fine Ally, it's fine.. Just stay motivated and get it finished so that you can go and do other things."
Allyson - "I TOLD YOU MOM, I'm wooorkkinggg on it!!" *more hysterical crying and sniffling and hiccuping*

Now, is it just me or is this a bit extreme? Because it seems a bit extreme. I won't claim to have all the knowledge and experience in the world, but these types of hysterics CAN'T BE NORMAL.

Bethany isn't quite this dramatic, but her Oscar isn't far from being won. I like to call Miss B the "WET" of the household. "Walking Emotional Timebomb". I was asking Krista yesterday - "We're we this emotional? Please tell me we weren't this emotional. I know that I wasn't this emotional. No Sirree Bob. "

Between the two of these girls, I'm not sure that if I have enough medication to keep me sane.

Ally and Bethany

100 Bits of Whimsy

2004-12-28T13:39:00.000-08:00

I've done this list before on my other blog, but unfortunately the site lost some of my posts. So here I go again...

100 things you never cared to know about me.

1. My name is Jennifer Lynne (last name withheld to protect the innocent.)
2. My friends call me Jenn, Jenny and Jennifer.
3. I answer to pretty much anything, including "Hey Red!"
4. I'm just barely 31 years old.
5. Ok, 6 months past 30 but who's counting?
6. I'm married to the most wonderful man in the universe.
7. His name is Chris, but I usually refer to him as "C".
8. I gave birth to 3 of the most beautiful people I know.
9. I'm not biased in the least.
10. I have red hair.
11. And freckles.
12. I'm 5'7" tall and I weigh approximately 145 lbs.
13. I live in a small town about 30 miles south of Dallas.
14. Waxahachie is beautiful, quaint and we have atleast 136 churches in a town the size of a peanut shell.
15. I don't go to church anymore.
16. I have very long eyelashes. They touch the lenses of my sunglasses. It annoys the hell out of me, but I'm not sure how to go about "trimming eyelashes".
17. I could eat my weight in Jelly Belly jelly beans.
18. I love games. Board games, trivia games, card games, computer games, bedroom games. ;-)
19. I have ALOT of underwear.
21. I love office products, especially pens. You could go so far as to say that I have a pen fetish. I'm still searching for the "perfect pen".
22. I'm a complete internet nerd. I was once the admin of an online pool league.
23. I've been a member of 4 different gaming leagues online.
24. I've also been involved in atleast 20 different online communities.
25. Obviously, I spend entirely too much time online.

26. I hate fried pickles.
27. I love candles. My favorite scents are apple cinnamon and clean linen.
28. I smoke.
29. I've never tried any drug except for pot.
30. Which I still try on occasion.
31. I want a tattoo, but I'm too chicken to get one.
32. I often go months without wearing any earrings.
33. I keep my toenails polished with red polish.
34. I love music. Rock, Country, Blues, Jazz, 80's, Easy Listening, pretty much anything.
35. Red Hot Chili Peppers make my thighs quiver. (The band not the vegetable.)
36. I love spicy food.
37. I don't have a restaurant that serves Pad Thai within 30 miles of me. Thank God.
38. My children call me Mommy.
39. All of my children have names that end with an "N". Logan, Allyson and Clayton. Yes, we did that on purpose.
40. I don't mind cleaning, but I HATE laundry.
41. I'm a fairly neat person. (Translation - I HATE clutter.)
42. I love my Canon Digital Rebel.
43. I consider myself an amateur photographer.
44. Which means that I like to think that I know what I'm doing.
45. I have had atleast 15 different yahoo sign-in names.
46. I have a cell phone, but I could do without it.
47. I hardly ever wear a watch.
48. I keep a bottle of lotion in both vehicles, my purse, my desk, my bedside table and in the bathroom. Not to mention the assorted "extra" bottles under the sink.
49. I have a major sweet tooth.
50. I have excellent luck with houseplants but horrendous luck with gardening.
51. I generally take baths instead of showers.
52. I procrastinate. Abundantly.
53. I love to write, but I often feel uninspired.
54. I'm a very strict Mom.
55. I love high heels.
56. Baby talk totally annoys me. (oh shoopy boopy baby dumplin = GAG)
57. I've had the same best friend since I was 3 years old.
58. We are currently living together. Her family and mine. Go ahead, call us insane.
59. My oldest son is autistic.
60. My Mother had a heart transplant when I was in the 9th grade.
61. Both of my female cousins died before the age of 32.
62. These things have made me a better, stronger person.
63. I have only one sibling. A brother who I adore.
64. I hate sleeping with socks on.
65. I choose Dr. Pepper over Coke and Pepsi.
66. My favorite perfume is Tresor by Lancome.
67. I sleep with a light blanket and a heavy comforter all year round.
68. I'm afraid of heights but I love roller coasters and flying.
69. I don't particularly enjoy the "69". I'm just saying.
70. I'm terrified of ladders.
71. I'm a very sexual person.
72. Logan's name was inspired by a call from an inmate.
73. The year I was born.
74. I love coffee. Particularly Starbucks Breakfast Blend.
75. All of my children were delivered in the same hospital by the same doctor. Well except for Allyson. She decided to come at such a pace that the nurse had to deliver her. The doctor did arrive in time to cut the cord though.
76. None of my children got my red hair. I'm not sure if that's a blessing or not.
77. I'm a "Scrapbooker".
78. I'm also into digital art and photo manipulation.
79. I'm a very good pool player.
80. If I could have any job in the world, I would be a professional poker player.
81. I hate my hair. Really.
82. I don't clip coupons.
83. I do buy everything in "off brands".
84. I hate horror movies.
85. I have only lived in one state and one county my entire life. (except for the 5 exceptionally horrendous months that I spent in Dallas.)
86. I've been married for 10 years. I still like my husband.
87. I played the clarinet in high school.
88. I love to read.
89. My favorite authors are Sydney Sheldon, James Patterson and John Grisham.
90. I hardly ever watch TV.
91. However I must admit to a freakish love of reality tv.
92. I heart Survivor, American Idol and The Amazing Race.
93. I will never drive a mini-van. It's a deep-seated severely-repressed chemical imbalance due to my Mother-in-law.
94. I would love to visit Italy.
95. I'm a good cook.
96. I have never broken a bone. I'm sure that I broke my toe when I was 18 though.
97. I'm not afraid of bugs.
98. I used to let June bugs live in my room when I was kid.
99. Grilled cheese and tomato soup are my favorite comfort foods.
100. I have bipolar disorder.

Feel free to ask questions about anything that seems odd. I'm sure that would cover about 90% of my list, but nevertheless go right ahead. xx

Carson Kressley - My new psuedo-boyfriend, psuedo-stalking victim

2004-12-27T19:32:00.000-08:00

I am in fashion lust with this man. His high-pitched feminine cadence makes my inner fashion model just go wild. Between his regular weekly appearances on "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy", a new film with Hilary Duff and not one, but TWO new books, he is also a very busy boy.

Carson Kressley has the fashion sense of a drag queen diva GOD. I dare anyone to argue with me. If you do so choose to argue, then you just don't.know.style. Not to mention his blithe sexual innuendos towards anything even remotely phallic. I'm not afraid to admit that this highly amuses me.

"I have no toilet paper in my apartment right now, but I've got a new coat!"
- CK

Carson Kressley if I only you weren't gay; if only I wasn't married... we could make sweet little fashionable babies and shop at DKNY every Saturday afternoon and buy black clogs and Prada bags and Hugo Boss coats.. If only...

Carson Kressley - Cool name, cool clothes, cool quirks, cool guy. Mmmk?

teen burglar?

2004-12-26T13:38:00.000-08:00

This tops my "wierd shit we got for Christmas" list.

Notice the tough looking black ski mask that you would expect to see on a burglar or even a bank robber perhaps.

Next notice the sweet pink tag hanging from the mask declaring the brand name "Girl Connection".

Does this strike anyone else as being.... well... a bit odd?

(I should also note that those are my lacy underpants shoved into the head of the mask to make it more clear what the heck you're looking at. I'm just sayin'.)

Somebody loves me

2004-12-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

I got a Swiffer Wet Jet for Christmas!

Oh yea baby. I'm going to clean like there is no tomorrow. My floor is going to be so spotless that I will probably encourage the children to take their meals under the kitchen table. Seriously, Yo. The floor may jump up and do a dance when it feels the sweet sponge of the Swiffer Wet Jet touch it's dusty, dirty pergo existence. Is it bad that a cleaning product can turn me on?

2004-12-22T21:11:00.000-08:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Haloscan ate all of my comments. Woe is me. *sniff*

It would be a wonderful gesture of the Christmas spirit and the generous giving component of the season for bloggers to HOOK ME UP with some comments.

Please.

Seriously guys, I feel NAKED!

12 days of Christmas - Fickle style

2004-12-22T19:33:00.000-08:00

It's been an interesting month.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me,
Eleven inches of........... yarn,
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes!

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me,
Twelve FUCKING PETS!,
Eleven inches of........... yarn,
Ten tripped out hippies,
Nine liquid miracle bras,
Eight rat-like hamsters,
Seven speeding tickets,
Six socks unmatching,
Five cock rings,
Four fighting heathens,
Three big zits,
Two french ticklers,
And a cart full of Totino's supremes.

2004-12-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

I've been experiencing severe writer's block lately. In my defense, I have 2 extra people living with me and all of the heathens are home from school. Need I say that things are INSANE?

Soooo, you get a simple blogthing. I'll be back with a new and improved-supersized post later today. xx Jenny

Get Your Own Christmas BlogCard Here!

Where I rescue my pop-tart.

2004-12-17T08:11:00.000-08:00

How good are Kellogs Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tarts?

So incredibly good that you will have to fight your toaster for them. You will have to wield your wooden spoon with a stern hand. The scandalous metal toaster will inevidably FORCE you to gouge it's very depths for the pop-tart it refuses to let go of. You can NOT trust the toaster with the Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tart. Trust me!

My solution? Nuke 'em.

50 things that I will never do.

2004-12-16T12:30:00.000-08:00

50. Fly an airplane.
49. Eat another fried pickle. Ever.
48. Talk back to my Mother.
47. Wear anthing resembling the color "mustard".
46. Listen to Marilyn Manson on purpose.
45. Buy another e-machine.
44. Shoot an animal for sport.
43. Snort cocaine.
42. Tell my Mother-in-law that I absolutely LOVE her new sequined-beaded-cutesy-flowery top.
41. Walk a tightrope.
40. Eat liver.
39. Burn a root beer candle.
38. Change a diaper for one of my own kids. (Until grandkids that is...)
37. Bite down hard on a jolly rancher. Ouch.
36. Perm my hair.
35. Get my hair cut at pro-cuts.
34. Sell Mary Kay. Again.
33. Drink tequila and bailey's at the same time.
32. Drink Southern Comfort. Period.
31. Run a marathon.
30. Drive a race car.
29. Watch a movie with any character resembling Freddy or Jason.
28. Stop loving my family.
27. Waitress at a strip club. Again.
26. Buy a minivan.
25. Have any type of inflatable yard art.
24. Have a broken-down car with the engine hanging out in my front yard.
23. Make fun of someone who is mentally challenged.
22. Cuss at my kids.
21. Forget to tell my Grandma that I love her.
20. Work at a Donut shop. (BAD for the ass!)
19. Drink grapefruit juice.
18. Collect stamps.
17. Pay my water bill on time. (This is seemingly impossible for us.)
16. Disregard someone who is in pain.
15. Worship any other God.
14. Stop taking photos.
13. Learn how to change my oil.
12. Live without a pet.
11. Stop reading.
10. Drink as much water as I should.
9. Tell my Mother-in-Law how much I truly dislike her.
8. Carry a gun.
7. Shop for Christmas before the last minute.
6. Buy a candle at the dollar store.
5. Stop taking my meds.
4. Have another child.
3. Step away from a plate of fudge or a bowl of peanut M&M's.
2. Eat at Shoney's. (Gag.)
1. Eat a bug on a reality tv show for any amount of money.

Share the 50 things that you will never do on your own blog and leave me a link so that I can laugh at your warped idiosyncrasies too!

I love when...

2004-12-14T08:42:00.000-08:00

you have a day-off during the week. We can eat homemade fried donuts for breakfast and watch Bob Barker on the Price is Right. Let's hide in our room and have mind-blowing sex during the daylight hours. We won't even get out of our pj's all day long, unless it means getting naked. You can run my bath water and sit and talk to me while I soak. We'll pretend to be young lovers with no responsibilites and little else to do. You can laugh at me when I take a big drink and miss my mouth entirely. I'll take pictures as you nap with your hair sticking straight up and your hairy legs are escaping from the sheets. Let's do the laundry wearing nothing at all, but remind me to get dressed before we cook anything splattery. Hot food popping on bare breasts is nothing to laugh about. Let's wrestle and tickle each other and beg for mercy when we can't stand it anymore. You can sit on the couch and hoot and holler while I parade around in silly outfits; putting on my own version of a fashion show. Who says thigh-highs and camouflage don't go together? Let's be silly. Immature. Irresponsible. We should open a cookbook and make whatever is on the page we turn to. We could get high on the best pot or drink a gallon of wine. Let's take turns wrapping silly things that we already own and pretend to be suprised as we exchange our "gifts". You can show me your "crooked finger" trick and I can touch my nose with my tongue. Let's make out in the backseat of the car. We haven't played strip poker in a long time. Don't you think we should? Let's listen to AC/DC at a mind-melting decibal. We should dance to Bruce Springsteen and sing with Axl Rose. We will play and frolic and tease and laugh and then crawl up on the couch together and drift off to sleep with our legs entertwined and our hearts on our sleeve. When we wake up and the kids and the dogs and the bills and stress are a reality, you know what... It's ok. We still have "us".

Ask me anything...

2004-12-10T11:22:00.000-08:00

I found this fun, interactive meme (of sorts) @ Gypsy Girl's blog. (Who I adore and stalk obsessively by the way. Well, in a not-so-weird, I'm not a freak kind of way. . I promise GG!)

A) First, recommend to me:

1. a movie.
2. a book.
3. a musical artist, song, or album.

B) Ask me three questions—no more, no less. Ask me anything you want.

C) Go to your blog (if you have one), copy and paste this, and allow everyone to ask you anything.

Be gentle.

Do me a favor?

2004-12-09T12:01:00.000-08:00

I'm worried about her. With the current break-up situation the way it is, her mood has steadily gone from bad to worse. Let me first say that I totally understand this. It's hard to play peppy 24-7 when your life is being turned upside down and then shaken like a piggy bank. It's scary, sad, hurtful and so many more depressing synonyms. But... (you knew there was going to be a "but", didn't you?) This honestly is not the end of the world! It's really not. If I remember correctly... (insert that annoying best friend voice of one who knows everything about your personal life) You've been through far worse than this. Remember how hard it was with Chris? (not my Chris for you readers who don't know the history... lol) Leaving a husband who loved you was hard! You cried and cried. I remember the sorrow you bore. Leaving someone who treats you like shit and doesn't even apologize for it? Well, I think that is going to be ALOT easier. Just a hunch.

Do me a favor? In the coming days when you think nothing will ever go right again and nothing you know is familiar, remember what you've been through. Who you have become. The strength and determination you possess is there, its obvious to all of us who know you and love you.

Trust me.

One Big Happy...

2004-12-06T21:10:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been incredibly happy and absolutely terrified all at once? My emotions have run the complete gamut today. Happy and content; Depressed and pitiful; Seething mad; Antsy and fretful; and now incredibly happy and absolutely terrified.

My best friend and her daughter are about to move in with us. Lock, stock and barrel. (Whoa, I just read what I typed.) I won't go into the specifics (she has a blog of her own, and I'll leave it up to her whether or not the specifics are shared) but K's in a relationship that has only gone from bad to worse in the last few months. It's time to get out. You know how there is always that moment when you know? You know that you can't take any.more.crap. She needs to move. Hell, I can't let her live on the street. Or worse, her car! She will be couchin' it, and brookers will sleep with Ally. (Yea, I can see that working. We need more duct tape. Not for K.)

C is handling this really well. He hasn't cussed even once! In the past few months its become increasingly easier to be in the same room with C and K. For a few years they would fight and nit and pick and throw stuff at each other. It wasn't fun for me. Now, it's like we're the three amigos or something. The three of us can sit and talk and laugh and watch tv and cook and eat and and and... other stuff that I can't think of, for hours, days! It's fun for me again. Yay me!

My hope is that this (brief) stint as roommates will make us stronger, sweeter, smarter and more patient. We will embark on this adventure with a positive attitude and a resolve to make things work for the good of the whole. I would also hope for as little bloodshed as possible.

Insurance Company Jackasses

2004-12-04T21:42:00.000-08:00

We received this today from MetLife. -

Dear Christopher H.,

We have considered carefully the Statement of Health you submitted requesting Spouse Term Life benefits. We regret to inform you, however, that we find it necessary to decline the request for coverage at this time because of history of treatment for bipolar disorder.

(I would like for it to be noted that I typed that entire paragraph and didn't make one mistake; until, I began to brag and fucked up on the third word. Bah.) I digress.

Apparently, I'm not worthy of Life Insurance because I've "spent time" in the looney bin. Are they afraid that I'm going to throw myself out of a window? I'm seriously confused about this. If i'm not mistaken there are clauses in insurance policies that make it impossible for people to commit suicide and allow their family to collect........ right? RIGHT?

I can honestly say that I'm not suprised. But, I never dreamed that it would be my BP that caused it. I had cervical cancer when I was 28 and had to have a full hysterectomy, surely that would have been a stronger reason for a denial. That was only three years ago. Jackasses.

I really hate dealing with this kind of CRAP. Insurance companies, mortgage companies, phone companies, etc. etc.. My dream would be to have a secretary of my very own. Someone who can balance the checkbook, pay the bills, answer the phones, return emails...

Anyone want a job? I can't pay you, but you will never feel unappreciated. =)

I need help ~~planning the demise~~ figuring out a response for these jackasses.

If your familiar with insurance claims and mental health, please email me. I could use some sage advice. Thanks.

Typos

2004-12-03T14:41:00.000-08:00

If you're bored; you love art; or you're interested in typography, you will adore this little toy. So very COOL.

Here's what happened when I plugged in "Fickle Whimsy".

I'm obviously bored. xx

pure mush

2004-12-02T20:05:00.000-08:00

Top ten reasons why I :heart: my husband -

#10. He knows how to fix stuff. lots of stuff. like electrical stuff.

#9. He looks so adorable and nerdy in his little oval frame glasses.

#8. He makes the best bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches ever.

#7. He hates his job (sometimes), but wouldn't dream of leaving it.

#6. He makes me coffee.

#5. He's tall. With broad shoulders. Long legs. Big feet....

#4. He makes me laugh. Alot.

#3. He's persistant in his efforts to keep ME sane.

#2. He cleans house. and doesn't bitch about it. much.

And the number one reason why I love my husband is...

#1. He loves me.

Say it with me. Awwww...

I love when...

2004-12-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

you make that little slurpy yum yum sound when I hand you crackers or a cup of a juice or even a sandwich. Clayton you are so appreciative and thankful.

Let's work on the chanting though, k?
"I want juice, I want juice, I want juice" chanted over and over and over until I finally stop whatever I'm doing and devote myself entirely to you, is not working for me.

Slimy Hooks

2004-12-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

Krista and I went out tonight, for our weekly "Girls Night Out". Back to the Boxcar for more exciting honky tonk action. Yea, that was a total clusterfuck of a sentence.

Joshua was there tonight. Joshua thinks that he is a stud. He is the type to walk up and put his arm around your shoulders, look deep into your eyes and smile that slow (supposedly sexy) smile. Like - Baby, you know you want me. [Excuse me while I gag myself with this cue stick] At one point I was walking back from the bathroom and passing his table, (it was right next to ours!) and he literally pointed to his lap as if I should... What? Sit down? Ok, You're kidding me right? You really think I'm going to plant my ample ass in your arrogant obnoxious lap? Oh no honey. Oh no. Joshua also likes to tell jokes. Alot. He will tell you this really vulgar joke and then just look at you with that little innocent smile and you just don't have the heart to tell him what an ass he is. It's hard for me. It really is. I want to just smile and say "please take your slimy hooks off of my cashmere." The funny part is, Joshua is actually quite cute in that 25 year old, baby face, blonde hair, blue eyed obnoxious kind of way. Maybe there's still hope for him...

Anyway. We had fun and I believe that the pool standings actually came out pretty even. I won some and she won some. Thanks Kris, I had a great time.

I love how...

2004-12-01T08:02:00.000-08:00

you understand the absolute necessity of turning your socks right side out before leaving them ON the coffee table all night.

Things I miss

2004-11-30T11:02:00.000-08:00

She did it again. What did she do, you say? Posted something so cute and thought provoking that I absolutely must steal the idea and do it on my own blog.

Things I miss.

High School.
The Brick Yards.
Common Courtesy.
Socks that have a match.
Going to the movies on a whim.
Making cobbler with my Granny.
Being 14 years old and walking all day long with my best friend.
Having sex wherever and not worrying about little people waking up or walking in.
Having a place to wear those strappy high heels that I adore with an indulgent lust.
Cleaning the house and having it last more than 30 minutes.
Friday night high school football games.
Walking to the post office.
Wearing whatever I want.
Sleeping as late as I want.
Eating anything I want.
Rotary dial phones.
Roller Coasters.
Driving fast.
Pregnancy.
Manicures.
80's Music.
Palestine.
Cruising.

Some of these I miss every day, some I only miss at fleeting moments when I recall bits and pieced of my wonderful youth.

What doesn't make me lose my lunch

2004-11-29T19:13:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post will contain copious amounts of silly jibberish pertaining to reality tv, and more specifically Survivor. .

Ok. I'm a total Survivor junkie. I have been for all nine seasons. I could even go so far as to mention that I've sort of, kind of seen like all the ummm... episodes. Yup. Every one. I heart Survivor. In all actuality, I'm addicted to reality tv. Whether that be Survivor, The Amazing Race, Cops or Court TV. Let me point out that I'm not overly amused by the more romantic reality fare. The Bachelor pretty much makes me want to lose my lunch. Temptation Island was fun to watch, strictly for the eye candy. [Paused for a brief smut fest] Remember that raunchy couple from season 1? The chick had long red hair and he was tattooed to the nines. ~~She~~ He was hot. [back to regularly scheduled geekiness] My favorites lean towards the action packed stunts and rock hard abs. Fear Factor, Survivor, Amazing Race, Rebel Billionair [he's hot in that old man with alot of money and great hair kind of way].

But Survior, oh my Survivor. You stole my heart once again tonight. Thanks to my handy DVR that rescued you from nothingness, I was able to laugh and cry with you tonight. Yes, I cry. Shut up. When the loved ones come running out and the cast aways see them and they both start to blubber and get snotty... omg, I just can't help it. I bawl like a little baby. It's emotional and tense and funny and sarcastic and bitter and and and..... there I go again.

I think I need therapy. Twila Tanner and Scout are absolute survivor playing geniuses. I'm really not privy to their real life academia but from a survivor standpoint, they are in a league with Richard Hatch. [Who I hate with a satanic disgust, btw]

I do need therapy.

Random semi-meaningless obvservation from a night out "on the town".

2004-11-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

Last night Krista and I both decided that we seriously needed some girl time. A "ladies night out" if you will. God, that sounds so cliche. After getting each of our families semi-sorta settled into their evening activites we met at my house to hit the streets. Well, the local hole-in-the-wall, honky tonk, hippie-biker hang out would have to do in a pinch. This little dive is so typically southern that it's adorable. It's set back in the woods, in a place where you have to know where you're going or you will surely get lost and eaten by the children of the corn if you attempt to navigate without a guide. Man, I love Texas.

I'm pretty sure that the "Boxcar" has been around since the dawn of time. It's your typical everyday honky tonk, complete with a jukebox that plays a wide variety of country and southern rock, a couple of pool table that still charge you only a dollar to play, a long glossy, sandy shuffleboard game and a dance floor the size of a postage stamp. And, and, and they have a LIVE band on Saturday nights! A band called "Southern Flight" that dabbles in (of course) country and southern rock. The next statement requires extreme caps. WE HEARD LA BAMBA PLAYED LIVE AND IN PERSON. Yep, you read that right. La Bamba. How fucking lucky are we? ::end sarcasm::

Krista and I both wore our cutest blue jeans and our stompiest boots (NOT cowboy boots mind you) and our sexy tops that almost reveal a bit of cleavage but not really. It was made evident last night by both of us, that I have the boobs and she has the butt and if we could just combine our collective qualities we would indeed be the perfect woman. I must point out that the perfect woman would probably be severely unbalanced from a mental standpoint, because everyone knows that Krista and I both are both mentally unstable to a fantastic degree.

I must also point out for the record that I got atleast SEVEN compliments on my LEOPARD print top that I was almost too embarassed to wear. Granted, it's a really cute top, but really, who wears leopard prints anymore? Only the severely unbalanced individual. I would post a picture of the two of us, but I don't want to overwhelm the internet with cuteness. (In all honesty, we actually didn't take any pictures because we were in such a hurry to get there and start consuming cheap alcohol that we couldn't be bothered with the time it takes to click a shutter.)

It took Krista a while to loosen up and have fun. I think she was nerved out over the lack of big-ass egos and 3-piece suits. Eventually the tuaca shots and cranberry backs started to take effect and I honestly think she started to have FUN. We played pool and chatted with all of the regulars, made some friendly conversation with the out-of-towners and flirted with the old men. If you have never taken the time to flirt with someone you're totally unattracted to, you really should. It's empowering. It proves that you can be friendly and have fun and not have to fit into that little box that you build around yourself. We all have our little boxes. The one that says you need to try and impress the neighbors. The one that says you can't be bothered with talking to those old guys in the too tight leather pants. Really, those leather pants are just a symbolism for the fun and frolic that we all long to possess.

Yea, we had a good time.

Hey Krista, same time, same place next week?

(This is a re-post from my other blog. It was written on 11-21-04.)

kids, dogs and coffee

2004-11-25T16:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Turkey day everyone.

I have so very much to be thankful for this year. I could sit and write and write and write and never come to the end of my list. I have a wonderful, adoring family. Friends who love me and put up with me even at my worst. Dogs who don't chew up my underwear. (Anymore.) A house. It's a warm house. Two cars that run great, a giant king-sized bed, and a bathtub that will fit two. I do have alot to be thankful for. Here's more...

10 things to be thankful for.

1. My gorgeous children. They make my life worth living, while driving me insane all at the same time.
2. Down comforters.
3. Medicine! Oh how I love thee....
4. Husbands who bring home Victorias Secret just because...
5. Dogs that sit in your lap and look at you with adoring eyes.
6. Cell phones - Where would we be without them?
7. Coffee. Java. Starbucks. Caramel Machiattos. Capuccino. Breakfast Blend.
8. My Mother; who inspires me to be more than I am.
9. My Grandmother; who will be getting married in 2 months at the age of 76.
10. Coconut body butter.

I hope you have atleast 10 things to be thankful for this year.

I wish you peace.

XoxO,
Jenny

Rocking my socks with quality

2004-11-24T11:45:00.000-08:00

Let me just share something with all of you. BlogExplosion rocks my socks. In the past three days I've discovered more quality blogs than I have in the past 6 months. I'm overwhelmed with all of the quality out there. I've always just read the same few, and while those few are awesome, quality blogs; WOW, there really is so much quality out there. The variety is simply endless. Not to mention the design blogs that are driving me absolutely insane with the NEED to have a new quality blog template. Between Blog Moxie, Web-Divas and Ciao! My bella I'm not sure that I can continue this brave show of strength. I'm crumbling under the pressure. I need one of those shiny, snazzy, superb templates. Maybe I can ask hubby to buy me a new quality blog for Christmas. (Geez, does that make me a total nerd?)

Anyway. I found Genuine today while surfing BE and he has inspired his readers to spend 10 million dollars of his newly acquired kajillion dollars, that Bill Gates has so graciously bestowed upon him.

Well, first and foremost I would pay off all of my bills, my families bills, my friends bills, my neighbors bills and my kids teachers bills. (They work HARD...)

I would then buy a shopping mall. Not just any shopping mall, but the most superior of all shopping malls. The Dallas Galleria. I would then build my house right in the middle of the mall and call it my own. I would wear a different pair of shoes every day for the rest of my life.

Well, it's a good start anyway...

Hopefully all of those repeated mentions of quality will subconsciously convince my dear husband that having a new blog template is an absolute necessity in the maintenance of a blog.

Where my ass pleads for help.

2004-11-23T19:15:00.000-08:00

Ok. Here's the deal. I'm not fat, but I'm not skinny. Anymore.

I've never had a problem with my weight until the last year or so. Incidentally, when I started taking anti-depressants. {*#!$^} On the other hand, I'm not sitting in the closet with my head between my knees anymore, so that's a good thing.

Regardless, I can't continue to be content with this extra 15 pounds. I don't necessarily need to be a size 6 again, but that would be nice. None of my "cute" clothes fit anymore. My pants are PISSED. They're feeling neglected and the entire closet is starting to give me dirty looks as I walk by. I can hear it whispering "Look at that ass. What is she thinking!"

I know what I need to do. I need to change my habits. But dammit, I like my habits. I like eating hostess snack cakes and jelly beans for lunch. It makes me HAPPY. I like getting my exercise by lifting the laundry basket and running errands. Shouldn't that be enough? C told me that if I really wanted to lose weight, that I just needed to exercise more. I told him that I DO exercise. I do. I really do. I walk miles, every damn day. Going back and forth all over the house doing laundry, making beds, pacing because I'm chatting on the phone. These things take up ALOT of my day, surely I'm burning some serious calories.

Ok, I need to change my habits. This is not going to be easy. I've realized that my whole life; I've been lucky. Serious rock star kind of lucky. I've never even had to think about my weight, much less worry about it. Now, I have mocking pants and shy, scared tank tops.

I want to wear sheer, shiny fabrics again. No, I dont want to wear curtains, but a sexy little teddy would be cool.

Back to the dreaded habit changing horror. How do I do that? I'm serious. I need help. Tell me what to eat. Tell me the best way to exercise at home. If it involves kids and throwing things, EVEN BETTER.

Is it wrong?

2004-11-23T09:34:00.000-08:00

My children are cleaning house. Thanks solely to my amazing ability to inspire.

Well, the promise of jelly beans probably didn't hurt.

Make it go away.

2004-11-22T23:28:00.000-08:00

It's amazing what having a mental disorder can do for your sense of humor. Really. Let's think about this.

I've been slightly, ok severely, emotional my entire life. I cry at the drop of the hat. However, I laugh at almost everything. I found out last summer that I'm also bipolar, which in itself is hilarious. Those individuals with bipolar disorder have severe mood swings. Shifting from delirium to despair in about 3 seconds. Yea, I could have told you that. I'm a gemini. The sign of the twins. Is any of this sinking in yet? It's a circle that I will never be able to break. Two opinions about everthing. Wishy-washy ideas and goals. Serious issues with monogamy and not a "single" favorite thing to be claimed. Everything comes in doubles. Double the pleasure, double the fun. Double the heartache.

If it's not obvious, I've been off of my medicine since last Friday. I tend to get morose and loquacious when that happens. Earlier I was crying on C's shoulder about how horrible of a person I am, and now here I am thinking things really aren't so bad. If I knew any better, it would make my head spin.

I despise being a slave to medication. For some reason, I find it to be a huge source of weakness in myself. C likes to compare bp with diabetes when I get in moods like this, and that just pisses me off even more. Diabetics have to take a shot or they DIE. I should be able to control this. Harness it. Make it go away. Knowing that I have to take those 2 pills or I'm going to become a raving, depressive lunatic is a little disconcerting, albeit funny. It's interesting to me that I can be on my medication, taking it everyday and feel like a totally normal person, yet I get off of the medication and I instantly hate myself. I wonder why I even bother with the stupid pills, they don't work, I'm so weak and pitiful. Blah, blah, blah.

Here comes the funny part. I know sitting here right now, that it's irrational. I know that I need the pills because of a chemical imbalance in my brain. I know that I have a family to take care of, kids to enjoy, a sexy husband to make out with. Yet I still torture myself with the melodramatic B.S. everytime I run out. Lord, save me from myself.

On the bright side, I have a Dr's. appointment on Wednesday morning. I will cry and wail and he will convince me that I am normal. I'll come home with a bag full of goodies i.e. drugs and all will be well in the world.

/end pity party

A, B, C...

2004-11-22T15:13:00.000-08:00

I was reading Gloveboxsandwiches earlier and came across this nifty little meme. I figured I might as well participate, you know, since I'm feeling like really SO uncreative today.

A is for: Anomalous Noodge
B is for: Blogger
C is for: Cowboy Chicken
D is for: Daisymaie
E is for: Elementopia
F is for: Fickle Whimsy
G is for: Gloveboxsandwiches
H is for: Hotmail
I is for: Idly
J is for: JennsAbsent
K is for: Kalsey Button Maker
L is for: LissaExplains
M is for: My Yahoo
N is for: Netflix
O is for: OkCupid
P is for: Photobucket
Q is for: QuirkyChick
R is for: Ringsurf
S is for: Stop Design
T is for: Thesaurus
U is for: Unprofound Photos
V is for: VoxSpace
W is for: W3Schools
X is for: Nothing
Y is for: Nothing
Z is for: Nothing

Wow. That was a much bigger waste of time than I thought it was going to be.

Leave me a comment and let me know if you post this on your own blog. It's fun surfing the different links.

XoxO

10 things NOT to do at 2am.

2004-11-22T12:01:00.000-08:00

1. Call old friends from high school to see if they still have that skirt you
loaned them in 10th grade.

2. Make the regrettable decision to "fix" your blog template.

3. Decide the kids room really needs to be vacuumed.

4. Hang that mirror that has been sitting in the hall closet for months.
(Hammering is BAD.)

5. Think that maybe.. just maybe a cup of coffee will lull you to sleep.

6. Wake up your husband to tell him that the lawn could really use mowing.

7. Attempt to drag every bit of the furniture out of the kitchen in a
vain effort at quiet mopping.

8. Pay bills. This is a particularly bad idea at 2am.

9. Figure the checkbook. (See item 8.)

10. Decide that you really should organize those 9,012 pictures that you
haven't gotten around to in the past 10 years.

Daydreaming

2004-11-22T11:49:00.000-08:00

Do you have those days? Those days where you find your mind wandering...

I stand up and walk to the laundry room to feed the machine and I suddenly stop. Where am I going? Why am I standing in the kitchen? What did I come in here for?

Oh yea... The laundry. As I pour the soap and sort the clothes, I think of lighthouses and a sandy beach. Sipping a mai tai while lounging on a deck chair. I imagine that the sounds of the water rushing into the machine are in fact the sounds of a waterfall. A magnificent rushing waterfall set in a jungle. As I sit at the edge of the falls, with the water spraying my legs I listen to the sound of my own heartbeat. Beating. I look up and see a mountain. An awe-inspiring mountain that leaves me breathless in its beauty. The wildflowers are a foot high and they stretch for miles. I stroll through them letting my hands graze the tops, letting the petals tickle my palms. Next I'm gripping the bar as the rollercoaster slowly makes it's way up the towering hill and then I scream like a banshee as we careen down the other side. Now I'm taking the clothes out of the dryer. Folding.

Daydreaming.... If only that Mountain wasn't this pile of clothes needing to be washed...

I love it....

2004-11-21T23:37:00.000-08:00

when you find the humor in my inane desire to set your armpit hair on fire. You understood that it just looked so fluffy and flameable.

Readers should be aware that I didn't actually catch his armpit hair on fire. I merely stated a desire to do so.

For reference sake

2004-11-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

In what would seem to be the unlikely occurence that tBlog MAY come back up, here is my address over there.

And she said

In case you we're wondering.

Let's try something new

2004-11-21T20:14:00.000-08:00

After repeated head banging due to a very unfortunate experience with a less-than-stellar blog site, I'm finally here on Blogger. I've seen the light. No one ever accused me of being anything less than stubborn, and I kept convincing myself that this other platform would live up to their promises. But alas, it is not to be... Goodbye tBlog. Good riddance.

2004-09-20T12:22:00.000-07:00

A semi-mentally unbalanced Redhead with grand dreams of life, love and happiness. I'm just lucky enough to have obtained all three, despite my own attempts at self-sabotage. I have a wonderful husband who supports me totally and 3 beautiful children. My oldest son is Autistic and our family handles these obstacles with amazing aplomb each and every day. (Which means we spend most of our time acting like absolutely nothing is wrong.)
Hey, denial is a good thing.

Fickle - Characterized by erratic changeableness or instability, especially with regard to affections or attachments; capricious.

Whimsy- An odd or fanciful idea; a whim.

So there you have it.
A capricious, facetious, fickle, indecisive, mentally unbalanced Domestic Goddess.

Does it get any better?
Don't answer that.

beauty is...

2004-09-17T15:20:00.000-07:00

beauty is only skin deep
even the prettiest carry scars.
flaming red tortured soul,
eyes that know.
looking deep within
the looking glass
solitude and strength are shown.
writhing and twisting
sensuality proves strong.

I wrote this today.

Itching

2004-09-12T11:39:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days? The kind of day that makes you want to smash your car just to feel the satisfaction of the crunch. Ok, maybe you haven't wanted to do that. But, that's how it's been around here. I haven't had one of those days. I've had one of those weeks. Make that two weeks.

For two weeks my house has been turned upside down with sickness. It began with a sore throat and a slight fever with my Allykat. Two tuesdays ago she complained of a sore throat and realizing that she did have a slight fever, I had pity on her and let her stay home from school. (I'm one of those Mom's where you had better be close to dying, or off you go.) I guess I knew deep down that it was more than just allergies. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday she stayed home from school with sore throat and fever. I just KNEW that it was allergies, until I looked into her mouth and saw the nastiness that was her throat. My girl had strep throat and I hadn't done anything about it. On Friday morning we we're at the Dr's office and the nastiness was made official. The strep throat was to be treated with antibiotics and the Doc assured us that she would be better by Monday for school. *Sigh* Thank God! A whole week off with a sick child can seem like...ummm... FOREVER.

Saturday (the 4th) found me up and gone pretty early. One of my very good friends had a daughter getting married. I was to help with the cleaning, decorating, shopping, hair-dresser, photography, cake serving, well... pretty much everything. It was a very small wedding. I worked my rear off (unfortunately not entirely off) all day. 11am to 11 pm on my feet except for when I was driving. But, trust me, this friend is worth it. I love her like a sister. I finally made it home at about 1am, sore to the bone. Ready for a good long Sunday of rest. Ha....

Saturday during my running here and there, I got a phone call from Chris. It seems that Ally had broken out with something. His mother assured us that they were hives. C's sister used to get strep throat all the time and she broke out with hives every time. Soo, I continued to "wedding" and didn't worry about it anymore.

Sunday when I woke up and saw these bumps all over my girl, my heart sank. I knew. She had the chicken pox. The mother-in-law can say what she will, but these were NOT hives. From the very first day it was obvious that this was not going to be a light case. We immediately started her on benadryl and caladryl, but these were super human pox. They wanted to consume my girl, toes and all. She has chicken pox in places that I didn't know you could get chicken pox. In her ears, hair, mouth, nose. She has them on the bottom of her feet. The palms of her hands. Her poor little tiny hiney is one giant chicken pock.

They accomplished what they set out to do. They have consumed her. It's Sunday, and she still has them just as bad as she did last Monday. I think they're still coming.

Itchiness has a whole new meaning. Nobody ever in the history of itchiness has itched as much as this child. She will begin to cry and start to roll around the floor and make herself and everyone around her absolutely miserable with the itchiness that is her butt. Because for some reason, that's the main place that itches. The butt. Her poor tiny hiney. The welts have begun to break open and ooze and I won't go any farther in my description because it's just too gross for the normal everyday reader of oozing and itchiness.

Hopefully, one day in the future my house will be rid of the itchies and the oozies, but probably not anytime soon. You see, Ally had the chicken pox vaccination. Lot of good that did, huh? But, the absolute best part about all of the itchiness and chicken pox and oozing is that Mom hasn't had the chicken pox. Atleast not from what Mom and I can remember. *Sigh*

Back to last Sunday. Supposedly the "day of rest". As if... Rest is falling into bed at 2am after one of the kids has peed the bed, or woken up crying with a fever. Who gets a whole day?

Another really awful thing happened last Sunday during the beginning of the chicken pox invasion. My Molly dog got hit by a car. She is fine! But C had to rush her to the emergency vet on a Sunday. She was laying on the carpet in shock, barely breathing, bleeding from 2 of her feet. Ally and I (of course) were crying our eyes out and he really didn't have a choice. Well, Molly is fine now and her stitches are healing, but have you ANY clue how much it costs to take a dog to an emergency vet?

Stitches in one leg, staples in two small (very small) places, shaving and doctoring a couple of other small cuts, one overnight stay and a partridge in a pear tree. Wham! $700 bucks. Can you say HOLY SHIT. Needless to say we will be eating lots of beans and cornbread for awhile, but I love my animals and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Weeelll, maybe I would have waited until Monday and taken her to the regular vet, but at the time we thought she had something horrible, like a collapsed lung or internal bleeding. It would be our luck, to not take her and something horrible happen.

Needless to say, I've been busy. Really, really freaking busy. I miss my friends and my family....

Well, Ill write more later. Clayton has a runny nose and a slight fever. Wish me luck.

Friend or Foe

2004-08-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

She was bored and restless, in need of a change of scenery. Driving usually helps, and she needed cigarettes anyway. As she takes the turn onto the service road she notices a woman walking along side of the busy road. She doesn't look like the typical homeless vagrant. Her athletic shoes are still white and the jeans are obviously clean. And she's carrying a dog. Thats not usually part of the hitchhiker wardrobe.

Should she pretend not to see her and keep on driving? Her head clearly says "Yes! Keep going. Strangers can be dangerous and it's smart not to trust people."

But does her heart rule her head?

A lone female walking the white line of a busy interstate, while the sun hurries to set and leave her in a shroud of dusk. It's not safe. What if some crazy person picks her up and proceeds to woo her into moving to Wateka, Arkansas. She becomes the 3rd wife of Jim Bob and the mother of 6 boys, who ALL call themselves some form of Jim or Bob. Or worse.

She would never be able to forgive herself.

The thought that she would have to drive a 1/4 of a mile going the wrong way on a one-way didn't sway her from the cause. A life was at stake. Jim Bob was waiting.

When she rolled down the window it was obvious that "she" was expecting it to be a man. She starts to laugh and then cry. Reaching thru the window and hugging her. "Thank you so much" she said atleast 5 or 10 times.

"Why in the world are you walking at this time of day??" she askes her. Of course the answer should have been obvious.

"My boyfriend and I had a fight." she replies. Still crying and laughing at the same time. She proceeds to explain how she just moved from North Carolina a year ago and doesn't know anyone. She is lonely and the boyfriend is a Jackass. Her name is Sissy. Really her name is Anne, but all of her life everyone has called her Sissy. Ok Sissy.

Sissy is obviously a troubled soul. Her life consists of car wrecks, police arrests, insurance scams and drug use. Sissy freely shares stories of emotional problems and she begins to wonder if this was such a brilliant idea. Saving this young woman that chooses to walk down a busy interstate. At dusk. With a dog.

It seems that Sissy wants a friend and is immediately drawn to her rescuer.

Is Sissy with all of her dramas and problems one to be trusted though? Does she really want to get entangled in anyone elses problems when obviously she has enough of her own to handle? Maybe Sissy needs someone to lean on and guide her. Maybe that friendship will be the one right thing to change her life. Does God put people in our path? Do we get to choose who interrupts or enters our life flow?

You tell me. Is Sissy a friend or foe?