...Keeps Falling On My Head...Dee Da Dee

Ok so, it's just a raft so far. But I still think I might have to keep adding on. This shot is of my neighbors back area. Unfortunately it's where they keep their horse, Star. She doesn't have much room to move around anymore; unless she wants to wade through a foot of water.

Get Your Own Ark, This One's Ours!

It's that certain time of year again; that special time of year when the folks in Oregon start pulling out those blueprints for their very own personal ark. Ugh.

After looking up some facts on the 'net, some things kind of surprised me. I mean, I know that it can get pretty wet in the Willamette Valley, but jeesh.

• The average rainfall for my town is approximately 49 inches a year. Is that a lot, I wondered? So...
• My husband thought that his home town in Indiana got way more rain then we do here, but according to what I found out they only get about 39 inches a year.
• Oh and here is the last stat I'll bore you with before getting on with my monologue: Seattle is always being stated as being the rainiest place in the Pacific Northwest, yet they only get an average of 37.2 inches per year.

It's pretty sad when that's all I have to get excited about. We beat Seattle, we beat Seattle.

Did I mention that my roof leaks, too? Yep. One giant drip right in front of the toilet. When I go I have to sit a little sideways on the pot, otherwise I get a ice cold drip right on the top of my right thigh. Gosh, I love renting. (sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm)

I just know that it will be my luck that the ceiling will come crashing down on me in a tangled, wet mess of whatever is up there, while I'm doing my thing one morning. I bet that would make the local papers.

But until then, I will go back to gathering the materials for my ark. Then I gotta get some security, because I know that once my neighbors see the awesome ark we built, they are all gonna want a ticket to board.

Navigating the Box of Chocolates is Hard

First of all, I would like to thank the unknown person who decided that it would be a great idea to put a diagram, a map of sorts, in the box of assorted chocolates.

Some of us remember what it was like to get a box of chocolates as a gift back in the day. Feelings of joy, mixed with dread. Joy in knowing that you would soon be partaking in the pleasure of the smooth, rich wonderful, tastebud feelings of placing divine chocolate into your mouth that you wouldn't normally buy. And the dread. The dread of picking up the piece that you'd been eyeing that looked so good, and finding your mouth filled with the one thing that you definitely wouldn't buy on purpose, let alone put in your mouth (my personal ick: coconut. Blah!).

Oh, and the embarrassment when someone would walk by your table or your desk at work, and help themselves to a piece. But upon opening the box they are assaulted with the view of pieces with one bite out of them, or even worse, the saliva covered, pre-chewed piece that you gagged on and spit out.

So anyway, I am thankful for the map of chocolates in my box I received this Christmas. Now my husband can safely open, peruse, and eat all the nut filled, coconut embedded icky chocolates he wants.

Thank you, Box-of-Chocolates-Map-Maker-Guy!

Crazy Nights Before Christmas

'Twas a few nights before Christmas, when in my crazy house
All my creatures were stirring, chasing a stuffed toy mouse;

The stockings were piled up in a heap on the chair,
In the hopes that maybe I would hang them with care;

The teenager was nestled all snug in his bed,
He was supposed to be sleeping, but playing Nintendo instead;

And papa in his boxers, and I in my flannels,
Wishing he would stop yapping, and that I had more T.V. channels;

When out in the living room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter;

Away through the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Flipped on the lightswitch and and just had to gasp;

The glare of lights on the side of the newly fallen tree,
Gave the look of daylight on the scattered ornaments everywhere I could see;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
One of my dogs chewing on the head of a tiny reindeer;

With a flip of the tongue, all wet and so slick,
I knew in a moment that the rest of the ornament would go down just as quick;

More rapid than an eagles, her cohorts they came,
As I tried to whistle and call them back by name;

Here Mazzy, here Daisy, here Harpo, you darn dogs,
Stop Nikki, stop Wurther, stop Fitz, stupid cats, your as bad as the dogs;

Get in the kitchen! Get away from the tree!
Now, come here right now! Lets go outside to go pee!

With paws slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor,
Like a furry tornado they raced for the door;

So out to the backyard they ran and they flew,
To sniff at the grass and perhaps something else to chew;

And then I heard a tinkling coming from the living room,
The meowing and hissing filled me with doom;

As I called in the dogs and was turning around,
The cats screetched out of the living room with a bound;

They were covered in tinsel from head to foot,
And their fur was all wet from the water in the stand I had put;

A bundle of lights were all wadded up behind them,
dragged into the kitchen still twinkling like a gem;

Their eyes--how they narrowed! The hisses were scary!
Their fur was standing upright, the lights an unwanted load to carry!

Their little mouths were drawn back in a hiss,
The tails of each of them, doing nothing but swish, swish;

The end strand of lights was held tight in Wurther's teeth,
and a piece of the tree encircled Fitz like a wreath;

Nikki was pissed, and howled insistantly,
Since he couldn't untangle himself from the tree;

Mazzy thought it was a game, and began to jump,
Grabbed the strand of lights, and her tail wagged with a thump;

With a gleeful look in her eye and a twist of her head,
What I foresaw filled me with dread;

She made not a sound, just went right to work,
looked me right in the eye, and pulled the lights with a jerk;

The tree came the rest of the way down, hitting her on the nose,
she howled and jumped back, up onto the couch she arose;

I sprang into action and tried to call the pets with a whistle,
But they all shot under the bed, flying like a missile;

As I heard my husband exclaim as he took in the sight,
"What happened to the tree?! Didn't we put it in the stand right?"

I'm Rich! Not.

My cats are pooping gold. Gold tinsel. At first I thought I had the proverbial goose that laid the golden eggs, but after closer examination I proved myself wrong. I knew I shouldn't have put that stuff on the tree.

Some people in my family wonder why I don't put my tree up earlier. Generally we wait until about three to four days before Christmas. Well, let me ask a question. How long would you want to put up with three large dogs, and three curious cats messing around with a tree in your living room?

I have the most retarded looking tree, if you factor the decorations in. Or should I say lack off? All the decorations are above tail height. Which is about three feet. I have the lights on constantly, so maybe it wont look so bad. And we don't put gifts under the tree until about five minutes before we are to open them, otherwise the dogs chew them into teeny, bite-size pieces.

Ah, such is life with pets.

Just Thinking Out Loud

What do you think is the true definition of a "control freak"? Just curious.

Missing Limbs, Homicidal Cougars, & Black Jack!

Yesterday my friend and I went to the little casino that is about 45 minutes from us, to celebrate her birthday. Actually her birthday was Wednesday but anyway...

Every year since forever, we always try to find something new and fun to do for her b-day, (and, or stupid). I don't know why exactly. Maybe because her birthday is so close to Christmas, we try to make it more unique.

One year we went 4 x 4 ing in our trucks, up in the foothills near us. Incidentally, there unfortunately had been a triple homicide in those same woods a week or too before that. (Not a very common thing in these parts.) The local cops had not disclosed the location where the crime had happened, so what did we do? We went up there to look around, and see if we could find it. I did say that sometimes we are stupid. Any way, we never really did find the crime scene, but we did get the crap scared outta us by a three-legged dog that came crashing through the woods, followed by it's one-legged human owner that was living in his van near where we had stopped to stretch our legs and deal with nature's call.

Another year, we went up to those same hills just to 4 x 4 again. This time we were in just her truck and wanted to check out the spot where the road had recently slid down a 150 ft. drop on the main road. I'm not sure why we thought this warranted a trip up there, but apparently we are pretty easily amused. But alas, we never seem to be able to stick to the original agenda. My friend has slowly learned now to ignore me when I say, "Let's see where this road goes." We ended up almost tipping her truck onto it's side. After we climbed out of the drivers side, we discovered that the truck was balancing precariously on a very big rock that she had originally thought was a bush, when she attempted to drive through (over) it. We made the decision that we should walk back to the bottom of the hill to the little store there and call for help getting the truck off this "giant" boulder. Did I mention it was still day light when we made this decision? Anyway, we walked about eight miles that night. In December. It started to rain. We had one teenie-tiny flashlight. Which was convenient for seeing the large yellow glowing eyes that stayed parallel to us in the nearby woods for about three of those miles, and they thankfully stopped when they reached a clearing. I was also thankful that she had brought her pistol. We didn't need to use it, but it was comforting none the less. After we finally made it to the little store, we called my mother and her boyfriend who had a four wheel drive truck. They came and got us and the truck. My mom had brought some dry sweatshirts to change into. We stripped off our wet shirts right there in the middle of the store, we just didn't care at that point. I have never before, and probably never will again, feel anything as good as that warm, dry sweat shirt. (By the way, it took approximately 5 minutes to get her truck off the "giant boulder".) But who cares? How many people do you know have been stalked by a cougar?

When I told another friend of mine that we were going to the casino this year for the annual birthday trip, she told me to make sure I write something in my blog about it the next day. She said that when the two of us get together, we usually end up saving someone's life (even if it's just our own), righting a wrong somewhere, or catch a criminal (that's a whole different story). I had to laugh at that, because she's right. Stuff like that just seems to happen to us. But not this time. Pretty boring stuff. But we did have fun at the black jack tables. Thank goodness they have $5 dollar tables.

Although we did find a naked man in the parking lot, who later, sadly, lost his penis when we decided he was not such a good luck charm after all. Oh, I'm sorry. Did I neglect to mention that he was only an inch tall, made out of plastic, and was probably once part of a key chain? Sorry, but other than having tons of fun, that was the only odd and different thing that happened to us. We'll have to think of something better for next year.

In the mean time, stay tuned for more misadventures of The Dynamic Duo of Kimberly & Sonja : Murder Clue Finders, Cougar Stalk-ees, & Black Jack Players Extraordanares.

THIS IS NOT US BUT GIVES YOU A GOOD IDEA OF WHAT HOW BAD THE TIPPED TRUCK WAS.

My husband the bartender heard this in part of a conversation the other night. It's amazing what a drunk person can come up with when they are getting cut off.

"A herd of buffalo can move only as fast as the slowest buffalo, and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular culling of the weakest members."

"In much the same way the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, we all know, kills off brain cells, but naturally it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first.
In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, constantly making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. Now are you going to serve me or what?"

Diary of a Cat

DAY 752

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 761

Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair - must try this on their bed.

DAY 762

Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.

DAY 765

Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan...

DAY 768

I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

DAY 771

There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774

I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time...

New Way To Track Terrorists

Check this out, very interesting.

Gee, I love Oregon weather. Especially here in the valley. We get rain, or at least wetness of some kind, most of the year. On any normal given day we could get at least an hour of sprinkles and then miraculously the sun comes out. It's as if the "weather gods" are goofing off and all of a sudden realize that they haven't made it rain in Oregon yet, and a little is better than none.

However much I love this place though, I am getting a little tired of the chilliness of late. It's not supposed to get below 40 degrees in the valley. What's up? I have lived in Minnesota and Indiana, and there is a reason why I don't anymore. Ugh.

And I love checking the temperature sometimes. It's a game of "can you guess what it is?" Right now as I type, this is what I have:

The Weather Pixie on my blog says it's 23 F.

The Weather Channel says it's 24 F (I find it interesting that on the screen, right next to the current temp, it says today's low is 34 F.)

The temp thingee in my truck says it's 18 F. (I think that might be because the sensor is currently, at this moment frozen inside the windshield. Just guessing on that.)

And sadly, I cannot read my garden thermometer. I think the little garden gnome that was holding it, gotta little pissy, smashed the thermometer, and took off for warmer climates last winter. Oddly, enough he looks a lot like the gnome on the commercials for travel.

I know that I shouldn't whine. It will just make things go badly for me. So I am going to also put the statements in of what I am thankful for right this minute.

I am thankful that I don't live near my dad at this very moment. Why? Because he lives in Minnesota. And because it's.....uh oh. I was going to put down that it was something like 10 F or something. But apparently it's 27 F there right now. Well ok, it's snowing there and not here, so I am very thankful for that.

I am also thankful that I no longer live in Indiana, where my husband hails from. It is currently 20 F with a 15mph wind chill of 6 F. And it's supposed to snow five out of the next seven days. I am very thankful I am not there.

Anyway...Now that I am done spouting on and on about the weather, I think I will drink a nice cup of hot tea, gaze out the window, and be happy I live in the valley after all. At least it's not snowing (knock on wood).

Oh the Wonders of the One Hit Wonders

When your brain has a habit of getting a song stuck it your head, do not ever, ever watch VH1's Top 100 Countdown of One Hit Wonder's. It is a very bad thing. I have now, my very own list of demon tunes that haunt. About a hundred of them. They say that the best way to get rid of a song that gets stuck in your head, is to listen to a different song. But I guess now I have my very own top 100. Crap.

So now I give you my very own waking nightmare. I guess I am hoping that by giving you this, it will carry on to you like a virus. Your welcome.

• All Right Now -- Free ("All righhhttt now, baby it's a all right now, repeat about 20 times)
• The Spirit in the Sky -- Norman Greenbaum (I gotta a friend in Jesus....so you know that when I die, he's gonna send me up to the place that's best.....repeat 20 times or so)
• Cool Jerk -- The Capitols ( Do the cool jerk....cool jerk....cool jerk....I'm smookkkkinnnn.....come on people...when they see me walking down the street...they know I'm the king...of the cool jerk...hummm da da da)
• Private Dancer -- Tina Turner (I'm your privaaatte dancer, dancer for money, any old music will doooo...repeat 100 times) not exactly a one hit wonder, but still gets stuck in my head. Not sure why.
• Cats in The Cradle -- Harry Chapin (The cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue, and the man in the moon, when we getting together dad? I don't know when, but we're gonna have a good time then son, we're gonna have a good time then. repeat about ten times)
• Tequila -- The Champs (da da dadda da dada....Tequila!) (this one only last for a little while thankfully)
• Obsession -- Animotion ( My obsession, my obsession...I will have you, I will have you....like a butterfly, like a wild butterfly, who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?) Those are all the words I can ever think of.
• Pump Up the Jam -- Technotronic (pump up the jam, pump it up while your feet are jumping.....ah-hoo-wah, a place to stay, get your booty on the floor tonight, make my day, make my day....ah-hoo-wah, a place to stay,....repeat many, many times until it feels like your head is going to spit open.)

Anyway, those are just some of what has gotten stuck in my noggin in the past 24 hours. In case you're curious, studies show that people that this happens to most are muscisians, women, and people who worry alot. I got it all covered. I guess I am just stuck with this disease. Song-stuck-in-the-head-idis.

Collected Quotes

I don't feel like writing anything whitty or amusing today, so here is some alternative amusement for you:

"Because, you know, there's one thing you don't want. It's a woman with her finger on the button who isn't getting laid."
-- Laine Hanson (played by Joan Allen in The Contender)

"I'd rather be despised for my character, than liked for my lack of it."
--Me

"I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass."
-- Maya Angelou

"People think at the end of the day that a man is the only answer [to fulfillment]. Actually a job is better for me."
-- Princess Diana

"My idea of feminism is self-determination, and it's very open-ended: every woman has the right to become herself, and do whatever she needs to do. "
-- Ani DiFranco

"What happened to the feminist revolution? We thought we could have it all, but instead we ended up DOING it all."
-- Helen S.

"People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent."
-- Bob Dylan

"Couldn't, wouldn't, mustn't, shouldn't - these are the laments of the spineless. I can and I will, but not because I must or I should!"
-- Me

"Olivia’s theory was that you could divide women into two types: those who were on the Girls’ Team, and Undercover Bitches. If a woman was on the Girls’ Team, she could be as beautiful, intelligent, rich, famous, sexy, successful and as popular as fuck, and you’d still like her. Women on the Girls’ Team had solidarity. They were conspiratorial and brought all their fuck-ups to the table for everyone to enjoy. Undercover Bitches were competitive: they showed off, tried to put others down to make themselves look good, lacked humour and a sense of their own ridiculousness, said things which sounded okay on the surface but were actually designed to make you feel really bad, couldn’t bear it when they weren’t getting enough attention, and they flicked their hair. Men didn’t get all this. They thought women took against each other because they were jealous. Quite tragic, really."
-- Helen Fielding, Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination

"Parroting your spouse and agreeing with everything he/she says is no substitute for, nor is it the same as having a spine of your own. And remember, spines DO bend and move. They aren't rigid. Don't confuse having an iron rod stuck up your ass with having a spine."
-- Liana Trement

"I wanted to make it really special on Valentine's day, so I tied my boyfriend up. And for three solid hours I watched whatever I wanted on TV."
-- Tracy Smith

"If brevity is the soul of wit, your penis must be a riot."
-- Donna Gephart ("The Wicked Little Book of Quotes")

"Never Grow a wishbone where your backbone ought to be"
-- Cynthia Paddleford

"Now, now. That eye squinting could be a make-shift beer goggle effect. If he squints his eyes, you might, just might, resemble something less ugly than you are."
-- JadeSyren

"Save a boyfriend for a rainy day. And another, in case it doesn't rain."
-- Mae West

"If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you can't tell it about other people."
--Virginia Woolf

"Slapping might work with TVs and other simple mechanical devices, but if I beat you until you were too ugly for radio, the only thing I'd get is bruised knuckles. You wouldn't be ANY smarter."
--JadeSyren

"... when author Margaret Atwood polled men about what they fear most from women, the men replied, "That they'll laugh at us." If that doesn't make it crystal clear what our strategy should be toward the patriarchs, frankly, I don't know what does."
-- Susan Jane Gilman from "Kiss My Tiara"

Do They Make Slings For Your Brain?

My brain hurts. I think I pulled a muscle in it. Is that really possible, I wonder? Ow, damn I did it again.

A few days ago my husband and I got new cell phones. We have had the same phones for about three years or so, and we were quite used to them, as crappy as they were. But it was time. When they arrived I was so excited. My plan was to get them out of the boxes, study the directions, and have everything ready for me to show my superior intellect to my husband when he awoke. HA! And of course my plan, as always, went awry.

My husband woke up before I even had them out of the boxes. To give some a small clue, trying to do anything like this with him, is like trying to put together that Christmas bicycle with a six year old "helping". ARGH! Gotta love him, though.

Anyway, we soon discovered that you pretty much have to have been through some kind of NASA/MENSA training camp to figure these things out. Oh well, we're getting there though.

So, as if my tired brain didn't have enough to deal with, I started my motorcycle riding class. I have always wanted to have a motorcycle. Since, well, forever. But it's a little hard to test drive that bike, if you have no idea how to ride one.

Last night was my first class. It's a pretty cool thing for the most part. Basically you take this course, which involves three days of equal parts classroom and actually riding the motorcycles. They provide the bikes and helmets and stuff.

Last night was three hours of classroom. They covered the basics. Ugh. I had no idea you had to be so coordinated to ride a motorcycle. Let's just say it is a little daunting. Without going into much detail, there are about twenty zillion things you have to do at any given time, involving all of your fingers and toes. No kidding. When I was listening to the instructions on how we have to actually shift these things, my arm was immediately raised to ask the question, if they make automatic bikes. (I drive a stick-shift, but this is a little more complicated than that, trust me.)

So today, I am studying the book a little more. It has all these little diagrams of where the clutch is, and brakes and other little necessary doo-dads. Tomorrow is the first four hours of on-the-bike-training, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to make sure I don't get the clutch confused with the brake. My brain throbs just thinking about it. Wish me luck!

Just Wondering...

Why do men still wear ties? It's a waste of cloth and the time it takes to tie one. I would think it would be kinda like tieing a noose around your neck. Just wondering.

Why do clothing makers design clothing with fake pockets? You put on your clothes, and later in the day you forget that the pockets are just a seam sewn in, and break a nail trying to get you hand in there for whatever reason. Just wondering.

Why is it that when you decide you're bored with playing pinball, you win a free game? Just wondering.

Why is it that women are routinely examined for chlamydia when they go to the doctors, when it is men who are the carriers of this highly contagious, dangerous disease? When will physicians recognize that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of prescription antibiotics? When? Just wondering.

Why do you always win at pool, or get that "eight ball break" when no one is watching? Just wondering.

Why is it that you always get a crappy song stuck in your head, but you can never remember the words to your favorite song? Just wondering.

Why do people think that they are invisible in their cars? They think that no one can see them pick their nose, or scream at their kids, and when they catch you looking, they give you a look like you totally invaded their privacy. Just wondering.

When you're in a hurry, why is the line at the store 18 miles long, but when you have all the time in the world, there is no one there but you? Just wondering.

Why is it when you need help with something, no one offers it, but when you don't need any help, everyone wants to lend a hand? Just wondering.

Why does a country's leader try to take full command, but when things go wrong, they blame it on everyone else? Just wondering.

Why do people try to return things at a store, and when they don't have a receipt, they are surprised that they can't get their money back? DUMB.

Why do some people keep having babies that they can't take care of? They are already on some kind of welfare, and get free medical. Why don't they take advantage of the free medical and get their tubes tied?

Why is it OK to have a Black Entertainment Television (BET) channel, but not a White Entertainment Television? Just wondering.

Why do people ignore the laws of gravity, when they are driving behind you? When I am stopped on a hill, still going up, I am bound to roll backwards a little when I release the brake pedal. So why do they have to get as close as possible to my rear bumper? Just wondering.

The time of year is here. With Thanksgiving over, we can no longer pretend that it's not getting ever closer to Christmas. Sigh...

I have done absolutely no Christmas shopping at all. My sister has been showing off all the presents she got every one and has them stashed everywhere. I haven't even thought about what to get my kid, or my husband, let alone the multitudes of family members that I will see on Christmas Eve, at my mom's house.

Last year, I worked at Target at this time. I knew what was going to be the best sales and so on. I had everything bought and wrapped before the weekend after Thanksgiving was done. I think this year, though I am going to see how long I can go without buying anything until the last minute. Get in on the last minute deals. Hey at least I can pretend that I have a plan.

But I still have to call my sister and get the master list. I always forget someone, and she never does. Hey, I have five brothers and two sisters and they all have kids. I also have my husband's two brothers, sister, parents, and their spouses. Something like 50 people or something total.

Ok, I'm done whining now. I guess I'll at least start making that list. That's something, right?

The Day After

Ugh. It's over. Well, kinda. If you don't count the few hours it's going to take to get the leftovers packed up and put into the freezer, make soup stock from the ham bone, pick up countless plastic cups, pop and beer cans, and somehow figure out how to disassemble the tent structure we had up out side; Thanksgiving is over for the year.

Every year, my husband and I decide to act like crazy people and invite all those who dare, to come to our house for Turkey Day. It's mostly for our friends that have either no family or their family lives too far away. Last year we had about 30 for dinner and an additional 25 or so stopped by for pie, drinks and conversation. We ran out of food, no leftovers to speak of. This year we invited the same amount of people, and we cooked twice as much. Half the people showed. So even though we had a wonderful time, we have lots of leftovers. Oh and did I mention that our house is about the size of a shoebox? We erected a tent out in the driveway with an outdoor fire pit, tables, and lighting strung up. Makes it pretty interesting when it rains.

But as usual at my house, all good plans can go awry. This years festivities started off well. I made all the pies on Wednesday. I was very proud of myself for that one. I awoke Thursday morning around eight, and started making my side dishes. First time ever I made sweet potatoes. And not the yucky canned yams either. I actually had to peel these suckers. I don't like that marshmallow crap you put on them either, so I substituted graham cracker crumbs. Turned out pretty good. My hubby actually ate some, and he hates sweet potato/yam stuff. Then I got the green bean casserole ready. Another thing I think I've made once.

Anyway, I was doing pretty good time wise at this point. Then I decided to get the ham ready, with the glaze and all that. One of my ingredients for the glaze in Dr. Pepper. Sounds gross, but strangely it's not. I had bought a whole 2 liter bottle, (not sure why), and when I was facing the stove, I attempted to open it. Well, gee it must of got shook up at some point in the last few days, because I ended up spraying the entire kitchen with it. The stove top, the fridge (which I had left hanging open), the kitchen sink that was filled with clean dishes sitting in the drainer, the floor, the table, and two dogs. Normally I would of started yelling at that point, but things had been going so well and I knew something was bound to mess it up. I just started laughing. Big, straight from the gut laughing guffaws. With tears streaming out of my eyes, I figured that if my husband would have walked in at that time, he probably would have drove me straight to the nut house. But thankfully he didn't.

I got the mess cleaned up, and things were going smooth again. My sister showed up with her kids and mine in tow. So of course we decided that this would be a good time to put up the tent. You know that old joke, how many whatevers does it take to screw in a light bulb? Well, this was kind of like "How many family members does it take to put up a gazebo shaped tent, after you cant find the instructions?" The answer is: six. One to walk around with his hands on his hips, spouting out instructions (Hubby), one to actually try to direct the children politely (my sis), one to keep saying "well, I don't know what I'm doing!" (Sis's kid #1), One to try to get the rest of us to believe that they knew exactly what they were doing (my kid), one to moan forlornly that they couldn't reach as high as the rest of us (Sis's kid #2), and one to walk around looking like they were actually helping but not (me). But apparently this method works, because it actually stayed up the whole time, even after it started raining.

Yes, raining. We have not had rain in about three weeks, and the weather dudes had said that we were supposed to have clear blue skys after a little early day fog. Yeah, right. It started out as a little sprinkle. No biggie. But after awhile, it was pretty much a deluge. Half the guests (mostly kids) hid in the house with video games. The rest of us braved it out. The tables got moved back under the tent, sort of, and it wasn't so bad. We took turns pushing the sagging tent up to spill out the pooled up water. I only did this myself once. After that one time, when most of the water went on my head, I decided that I just didn't have the talent for it.

So anyway, all in all, the day went good. I still have an entire turkey left and 99% of the second ham, and an entire pumpkin pie, and my hubby is in the kitchen doing dishes, so I'm content. The rain has stopped for a while, so I think I'll go out and see how long it will take me to take the tent down by myself. You might want to pray for me. HA!

Am I Larry, Moe or Curly? Cripes!

Have you ever felt like you were in the middle of a Three Stooges show? Keystone Kops, also was a familararity today.

I don't know if it was the position of the moon or what. I checked my horoscope, and it said nothing about me making an ass out of myself. Well, shit.

My day started ok. I left the house around the middle of the morning. While getting on the freeway, I almost got side swiped by a geezer pulling a fith-wheel. (interestingly, I looked and he didn't even notice me. How can you not notice a bright purple truck with a bright blue wheel barrow in the back, for cripes sake?!?!) Anyway, I proceeded to kidnap my sister to help me finish a job I had been putting off. I had to go to her work to do this. She had just finished an eight hour shift, gaped at me like I was a loon, jingled the change in her pocket, and decided that this was going to be easy money. Ha! Little did she know!

We got to the job site, (landscape stuff BTW) and started to dig. Basically, we had to cut out an oval about the size of a small car from a very nice stretch of lawn, place a large rock on one side, and plant a tree. Sounds simple right? Ha! You know nothing!

The area we had to dig up the sod from, happened to be about the most soupy spot you can imagine. Think about a low spot in your yard, and you left the sprinklers on too long. Multiply that by ten. That was the spot. Ugh. Anyway, we dug. As my sis was filling the wheelbarrow with sod, I warned her that it was getting too full, and would be too heavy. She as usual ignored me. As I graciously decided to take the wheelbarrow myself to the truck to unload, I turned it and the tire apparently came off the rim. Shit. Oh gee, double shit. Did I neglect to mention that I was in the middle of the street at the time? With a load of sod that probably weighed about 100 lbs ?

I was pushing along, and I thought I was dragging something. I looked down and realized that I was dragging the freaking tire! My sis was going on about how she told me last week that she thought the tire was a little low, but since I don't remember that, I think she was making it up. (But she will still continue to keep deer heads in her freezer for us, now wont she? ...Previous post, sorry)

Then of course, since I was in the middle of the road, a van is coming down the road. A delivery van. Gosh I love giving them stories to take back to the warehouse with them. Don't you? I was smack, dab, in the very middle of the road. No way around me. So I am yelling at my sis to get over to me to help me get the damn thing out of the road, and I might of been waving my arms a wee bit, and she starts laughing. Couldn't stop, either. I'm pretty sure that snot was running out of her nose, too. (take that, Sis!)

She came over to me and asked what could she do. I told her to lift one end and I would lift the other. Her response: "I ain't liftin that! Are you shitting me?!".

I ended up taking half the sod out, and carrying it to the truck, and then dragging the wheelbarrow with the flat tire, to the truck backwards. Apparently the DHL delivery driver was laughing his ass off the whole time. I didn't notice, but my sis informed me later. Sigh...crap.

After that fiasco, it was time to get the tree in the ground. This tree, I am guessing, weighed near to 150 lbs. Probably more, because I think I can lift 150 lbs. The owners had bought it about three weeks previously and of course, sat it in their yard, about 100 Ft away from where we needed to put it. So we decided to roll it. Not a good idea. Less than half way to the hole we (mostly I) dug, it started to come out of the pot. Black dirt all over the lawn...Hey I have a great idea! Lets put it back in the pot and drag it over to the hole. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Once we got it to the hole, we couldn't get it back out of the pot. I tried to yank it out using nothing but my brutal strength, but to no avail. (shut up Sonja.) I might of also fell on my butt, once or twice. Ok, so we finally got the damn thing in the hole, and the lawn we had to treks back and forth on to get the sod in the truck looked like total crap. But, all in all, the job got done, and the crappy part will look better once it rains a few times.

Oh, and my sis also informed me she couldn't dig anymore, because she pulled a muscle in her butt from laughing at me. Is that workman's comp by the way?

God, I hope the neighbors were not video taping us for some reason.

Wires to the Left of Me, Wires to the Right.....

Note to Self: When rearranging your living room, be prepared to instantly become an electronics engineer.

Two years ago we got our last puppy. Two years ago was the last time I rearranged the living room. We have a surround sound system, that also has two game systems, a DVD player, CD player, tape player and VCR hooked to it. Most of it quit working about a week after we got our last dog, due to wires that got eaten. We just never had the energy to fix it. But last night I decided to move my furniture around.

I figured that if I just unhooked all the wires from everything, then I could just rewire it in a different location in the room. I decided this because I couldn't figure out how my husband had hooked it all up in the first place. I would just do it my way. Seemed like a good plan at the time.

The first thing I had to do was barricade the dogs out of the living room. Not a small feat considering that Mazzy, our youngest, can jump a five foot fence with ease. But it worked out ok, because apparently she had never thought that jumping a couch would be easy compared to the fence.

I thought that I would have to do a kind of a trial and error type thing with the wires, since I had absolutely no clue how to do this. It's supposed to be easy since all the wires are color coded. Black in the black holes, red in the red holes. Yeah, right. There are approximately 30 different black and red holes. UGH!!

Anyway, three hours later, and I was patting myself on the back. Not only because I got it all working, but I actually got stuff to work that my husband couldn't figure out the last time. I had to call him at work and brag. I also called to tell him not to touch anything. I could just picture him thinking that he could make it better somehow. Why? Because he's a man of course.

Can A Smile Get Any Bigger Than This?

The other day, my kid came home from school and while he was walking by, casually handed me an envelope. A big one. Oh gee.

As I started to follow him into his room, the unopened envelope in my hand, I had dread in my heart. What could this be? What did he do? I did a quick u-turn and went into the kitchen. I decided in that split second that I should not jump to conclusions. It might be nothing. And it could be something really bad, and I didn't want him to see the look on my face when I opened it.

With a deep breath, I tore it open. And then wished he could of seen the look on my face, because it mostly consisted of a smile a mile wide. My kid made the Honor Roll.

Yup, that's right, I said, "My kid". The one person in this world, that I can say is mine. The one person that I have the most influence on. The person who actually has to listen to me when I give advice or instruction. The person who has my attitude, and sometimes sarcastic mouth, strangely mixed with his father's quiet, laid back personality. Despite the odds, he made the Honor Roll. Pretty damn great, huh? I am so proud of my kid.

Have you ever noticed just how many "Idiot's Guides" are in your local bookstore? What a waste of money. I don't need no guide for idiots or dummies. I can dumb down my world all by myself, without the help of some stupid expert. Take The Complete Idiot's Guide to Buying and Leasing a Car, for instance. You don't need a guide for that. Everyone knows you just take any car you want, and leave a lemon in the parking lot.

Or The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cooking a Chicken (hint: make sure the chicken's dead). Can you imagine just shoving the poor thing into an oven and waiting for it to die? Kinda reminds me of how we cook lobster or crab. Same in theory, but just not a good idea for your chicken dinner.

How about The Complete Idiot's Guide to Spas and Retreats? Hmmm, the Love Canal sounds like a romantic place....

God knows how many lucky orphans now have complete idiots for parents, thanks to The Complete Idiot's Guide to Adoption.

Then there's The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bringing Up Your Baby. Anyone who buys that one, shouldn't have kids.

Or what about The Complete Idiot's Guide to Decoding Your Genes? That's all we need -- idiots learning to clone themselves. Whoo hoo!

How about The Complete Idiot's Guide to Choosing A Pet? As far as I'm concerned, the only pet that a complete idiot deserves to own is a Pet Rock.

What's Dogs for Dummies all about? Let's see, a Lab is supposed to be pretty stupid... duh, he won't outsmart me.

Don't look in The Complete Idiot's Guide to Breaking Bad Habits for help. There's nothing about heroin in there. The prerequisite is The Complete Idiot's Guide to Gambling Like a Pro.

Then there's The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cool Ways to Communicate Online. Nobody will know you're an idiot if you describe yourself online as a jet-fighter pilot or a brain surgeon or a model. Just make sure you can spell.

You'd have to really be daft to need The Complete Idiot's Guide to Motherhood. Stick penis in vagina and presto!

Then there's The Complete Idiot's Guide to Sex on the Net. No problem. Just make sure it's tied to the tree so you don't get tangled up in it.

The Complete Guide to Sunken Ships and Treasures? Easy. Go to pet store. Look in aquarium. Caution, make a note: avoid piranha tank.

Don't bother buying Container Gardening for Dummies -- grow your very own vegetation in the bottom of the garbage can. It can be done! Trust me.

Cooking With Kids for Dummies? Easy. Put kid in pot. Simmer until flesh is tender and falls from bones. Kidding! Jeesh...

Learn all about Desk-Top Publishing and Design for Dummies -- carve the F-word right into the wood on top of the desk.

In The Complete Idiot's Guide to Dog Tricks you can learn how to catch a Frisbee in your mouth and play fetch just like a real dog.

Cold Fusion for Dummies? Stick tongue to metal pole in winter. I think one of my brothers wrote that one.

Then there's Cool Careers for Dummies. May I suggest Arctic explorer? I hear it can be pretty cool there.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Changing Your Career should be one page with three words: "Quit your job." I wrote the book on that one.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Conquering Procrastination? A bit of advice: "First of all, put down this book!"

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Reaching Your Goals? Arrange beer, TV remote and potato chips in 180-degree arc around easy chair.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Stretching and Relaxing? Place beer, TV remote and potato chips just out of reach in 180-degree arc around easy chair.

The last thing we need is a book called The Complete Idiot's Guide to Flying and Gliding. Aren't there already enough idiots on the road?

I'm sure The Complete Idiot's Guide to Middle East Conflict is full of helpful suggestions -- it's related to The Complete Idiot's Guide to Winning Through Negotiation (hint: bring an Uzi).

Then there's The Complete Idiot's Guide to Near-Death Experiences -- what, hold breath for four minutes? Stick knife in toaster?

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Losing Weight? Hack off a limb.

If I really was a complete idiot and I saw a book like The Complete Idiot's Guide to Palmistry, wouldn't I think it was a book about masturbation, or that The Complete Idiot's Guide to Curling was a book for hairdressers?

What about The Complete Idiot's Guide to Soccer -- a how-to guide about how to smack your wife upside the head or put a sock on her foot?

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Windows... well, usually there's some kind of latch or something. There are guides for Windows 95 and Windows 98 -- those really difficult modern windows with sliding screens and tricky blinds with long cords.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Wine is obviously about complaining in a high, squeaky voice, and The Complete Idiot's Guide to Yahoo! is about pretending to be in a rodeo.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to How to Make Money in the New Millennium? I know! Write a Book for Dummies or a Complete Idiot's Guide. It's better than The Complete Idiot's Guide to Making Money on Wall Street. Who wants to dress up like a hooker and sell their body for cash?

How Old Is Your Mom?

When I first read that scientists had discovered a way to reverse menopause, the reactionary part of me thought, "Oh, great. Here's another excuse to keep women barefoot and pregnant and slaves to their biology for the rest of their lives!"

Then a slightly less reactionary part of me (but not much less) thought, "Oh, great. This could mean another 20 years of getting your period." What woman would choose to experience another 20 years of cramps, PMS, ruined sheets and buying tampons, pads and Pamprin when you could have that fresh and panty-liner-free feeling full-time?

Just think: post-menopause, you can go hang-gliding and do all those fun things girls do without worrying about "feeling secure."

By the way, why is the government still charging women tax on feminine hygiene products? Why do they not see that feminine protection is an absolute necessity, like food? Why are they taxing our biology? I guess the government knows that in a pinch, a woman could always filch a couple of safety pins and a roll of toilet paper and fabricate herself a little homemade, tax-free nappy. Or if she completely wanted to avoid paying taxes, she could just stay at home and pretend her futon was a giant tax-free sanitary pad. You see these futons all the time, being dragged out of houses when women move from place to place, the movers looking discreetly away while the woman explains, "Oh, those stains. Those are from when I cut my finger accidentally... eh hmm...with a chainsaw."

Maybe in a couple of years I'll feel differently. Maybe in a decade or two, when I first start experiencing those hot flashes and what society perceives as the last vestiges of my femininity sadly slipping away, I'll be on my knees, begging the doctor, "Gimme one of those pills! My God, make me feel like a real woman again! My family is treating me like I'm just Buddy Ebsen with a wig!"

I am assuming I'll be acting in this emotional way because by the time I make this request, I will be experiencing the mood swings associated with menopause. Of course, part of being a real woman is experiencing menopause, and if you really want a child that badly at age 50, maybe you should consider adopting.

One aspect of menopausal reversal that I find particularly disgusting is the way it caters to that selfish baby-boomer point of view: "The world is all about me and my baby." Just think of all the little orphan babies who won't be adopted because a woman chooses vanity over philanthropy. Aren't there too many people on the planet already without extending our Western imperialist concept about tyranny over nature to planning even more pregnancies?

Also, I don't think anybody has really thought out the consequences of having all these really old moms around. I can see it now. The geriatric mother at the drugstore counter: "I'd like a box of Pampers for my daughter and a box of Depends for me."

Then there will be women who choose to give birth simply to provide themselves with a free caregiver by the time they're 70. There could be an entire generation of children around 11 years old who were born to parent their parents, pushing them around in wheelchairs that are the equivalent of giant strollers. Then there's the whole idea of mom's mind getting feeble, or mom going deaf, as in, "What baby crying? I don't hear any baby crying. Did I have a baby?"

Menopause reversal could also create a whole new generation of orphans. It caters to the delusion most of us live under, that we are somehow immortal: "Oh, death won't happen to me. Death is something that happens to someone else." Imagine this touching scenario, as told by a geriatric mom to her seven-year-old child: "I know you're only seven, but Mommy has to die now. Mommy is too old! I'm sorry, it's a biological certainty... things are getting dim... you're on your own, kid... goodbye."

It's a red letter day...

I wanted to put out a special thanks for Teh Blogfather, for his rip roaring review of my blog. Check it out here.

They Called Him Ishmael...Well, probably not.

Tomorrow the 12th day of November is a historic day here in Oregon. It is the anniversary of "The Exploding Whale". Yes, ladies and gentleman, the exploding whale.

Back it early November 1970, an 8-ton, 45 foot long rotting sperm whale washed up on shore near Florence, Oregon. People came from all around to come gawk at it. Alas, as all dead things eventually do; it started to stink.

The state highway division drew the short straw for the job of disposing of the carcass. Mmmm. They thought long and hard about the best way to do this. Well, for at least an hour.

They couldn't bury it. It would eventually come back up from the sand, because of the ever changing tides and such. Stumped as they were, the highway division chose to consult with officials at the Department of the Navy. They had a wonderful idea.

The hatched the plan to blow it up using a half-ton of dynamite. The object being to pulverize this poor dead whale into teeny weenie pieces that were more manageable apparently, and would most likely be eaten by the local wildlife of seagulls.

But as all good plans often do, it went awry. Apparently they didn't use enough dynamite. It only blew up part of the carcass. And the part that did blow up, unfortunately sent pieces soaring into the air, not towards the ocean as planned, but towards the on-lookers that had crowded nearby. Although a car was crushed by a large, flying piece of blubber, no one was injured. Unless you count being traumatized by being rained on by the smaller bits and pieces of stanky, rotting whale goo. (Try explaining that one to your insurance company.) Most other onlookers left after that, and crews buried the rest of the carcass.

And a lesson was apparently learned, because when an entire pod of 41 sperm whales washed ashore in 1979, the Parks Department was in charge and they burned the carcasses and buried the remains. Apparently they decided that consulting the Navy was probably not a good idea, since by then the Navy might of came up with something along the lines of shooting missiles at them from a ship to pulverize them into more manageable chunks.

I'm not sure if they are going to have a Exploding Whale Festival or not to commemorate the day the sky rained whale goo, but I don't think I would go even if they did. You know, just in case they want to do a reenactment or something. I think I'll pass.

Car Trouble, Coney Dogs, Deer Heads & Inappropriate Laughter

I'm so glad that today is today and not yesterday. Some of the day was pretty good, some not. Just another 24 hour period of my life that see-saws like crazy.

My life with my husband is a little backwards at times. On one hand he's the typical, main bread winner in the family. On the other, he waits three days to casually mention to me that the "check engine" light has been on in his car for three days. Then I have to take it in to have it checked, haggle with the shop over how much they are going to take from the ol' wallet, and get it fixed. Incidentally, he also drives around for what seems like forever with the "get gas now, stupid" light on that dings at ya every time you turn a corner. Sigh...

So back to yesterday. I had planned on going with my friend to take her very first deer to a taxidermy shop, that is a little ways away. A day trip basically. I had already went with her to take the meat to the butchers to have it processed, so I figured what the heck. I'm not sure why exactly I've been involved in this whole process, but whatever. Oh, and I also tagged along to sneak the dead deer head into my sisters freezer the other day, because ours was too small.

Getting on with the story....I take my husband's car down to the shop. The service advisor dude tells me how much it will cost just to check why the little light came on. "Ouch." Then he tried to talk me into some other stuff. "No thank you." I mentioned to him what I thought it was. Something to do with the transmission (for lengthy reasons). He just politely nodded and made little notes, probably making fun of me. Jokes between him and his little Bic pen.

My friend is coming to pick me up at the garage so we can go get the deer head out of my sisters freezer. Oh and a funny side bar: When we attempted to put it in the freezer in my sis's garage, it wouldn't fit, so we took everything out of her kitchen freezer and replaced it with the dead dear head. Then my sister came home and caught us. She made us put a bungie cord around the handle on the freezer door so she wouldn't forget it was in there and scare the crap out herself one night.

So we got to my sis's house. She was at work and actually locks all her doors, so I had to get the maintenance dude to let us in. The manager okayed it, since she had already talked to my sis and knew how much she wanted to get the head out of her freezer. So then we were on our way.

We got a little distracted getting down there, made a few pit stops. But we eventually found the place, got the head out of the trunk and were headed back home, and got distracted again. We stopped at a A&W. Yum. Normally.

Ok, so it was actually good going down. But this was my downfall: The Coney Dog. Looks good. Tastes good. But combined with the vibrations of the car, not good for my tummy.

About 20 minutes after eating, I casually mention to my friend that pretty soon I was gonna need a restroom. No big deal, next place to probably stop about 15 miles or so. I was very nonchalant. About 3 minutes after that, beads of sweat forming on my brow, I informed her that I needed to stop RIGHT NOW! She glanced over at me and just started cracking up. Apparently the look of anguish on my face combined with the scissor-like shifting of my legs and my sweating brow was enough to bring her to peals of laughter. After braking and speeding up once to piss me off, and me telling her I'm not kidding, (and I think my hand might of been on her throat, but I can't really remember) we came upon a little burg. By then, I felt fine.

Her: "Do you still need to stop?"
Me: " Weird. I feel fine now."
Her: "Are you sure? Because if we get five miles outside of town, and you change your mind, you're going to be screwed."
Me: "Yeah, I'm sure."

Apparently this issue I had with the Coney dog comes in waves, because we were almost outside of town when:

Me: "Uh oh."
Her: "What?"
Me: "I was wrong. I need to stop. Like NOW!"
Her: "Well, at least we're not quite out side of town yet." This said while laughing her head off.

She pulls over and turns around in a driveway, and we have to get across four lanes of traffic to head back into town. The cars just wouldn't stop. I'm groaning, doubled over, she finally stops laughing for a minute. At this point I was ready to ruin the interior of the rental car we were in.

But of course I knew that she would finally pull through. The friend I know and love showed her true self. Finally.

Her: "Hang on, here we go."
Me: "ARGH!!!"
Her: "Whoo hoo!!!!!"

She was like the dream girl version of Mario Andretti. Whipped between a log truck and a very ancient man driving a huge motorhome, and got me to a bathroom faster than I thought possible. At this point she resumed her manic laughter.

The people in the restaurant probably thought I was running from the cops, I ran to the back so fast. Of course, when I emerged after two courtesy flushes by the way, my friend was waiting for me outside the door with a look on her face that was halfway between concern and held back laughter. The laughter won out though, when the air shifted. We ran for the door before we got arrested By Sherriff Barney for some trumped up charge of reckless driving and endangering the airspace of a eating establishment.

When we got back to the car, all we could think about after her race car driver rendition, was how we would've explained the evading the police charge if a cop would've been watching the way she got me to a restroom. "Gee, I'm sorry officer, but my friend was about ready to crap her pants."

The morals of this long, drawn out story?

• The rental Chevy Malibu is a lot faster and handles better than you think.
• Even when your friend laughs at your pain, she still will do whatever she can to make it stop.
• Avoid the Coney Dogs at the A&W in Myrtle Point, Oregon.
• Dead deer heads in your sister's kitchen freezer is still funny, I don't care who ya are.

Incidentally, it was my turn to laugh when about 20 miles from home my friends tummy starting gurgling too.

It Can't Get Any Worse Than This

Damn, my bladder feels like it's going to burst. My friend looks alarmed. "Didn't you go before you left home?" she asks, as if we were stuck on a ride at Disney World as opposed to sitting in a nightclub. It's either face the inevitable or leave, and it seems silly to go home just to use the facilities. I decide to brave it, even though I forgot my rubber gloves and disinfectant.

Comedians are always joking about how women go to the bathroom in twos or threes. I'm going to set the record straight: it's not because we're insecure and tribal, or having hot lesbian sex. It's because every time you relieve yourself in this city, you take your life into your hands. The Gulf War had nothing on the germ warfare we battle in there.

Your first challenge is to gain entry while avoiding contact with all surfaces. If it's a door with a knob you have to twist open, you're screwed. The best thing to do is wait until someone opens it from the inside and slip in as she leaves. If the door swings on a hinge, you can either use your shoulder to nudge the door open -- with the idea that you will throw out the top you're wearing later, as even a hot-water wash and 90 minutes in the dryer does not kill fecal matter -- or turn your back to the door and kind of nestle it open with your bum. You can also try the Femme Nikita approach: kick it open with your foot and hope nobody is on the other side.

When choosing a stall, use your sense of hearing as well as smell. Some-times washrooms are equipped with chunks of pink or blue deodorant that traumatize the nasal passages with the smell of lye and roses. You may be unable to detect malodorous signs that a stall may be dangerous.
If the stalls are occupied, listen for certain sounds -- retching, vomiting and the pitter-patter of drops on hard surfaces are all bad signs. I can detect the crackling sound of a panty-liner being ripped from underwear and thrown on the floor from 30 feet. Gross, I know.

You may assess the situation by looking at the feet beneath the stalls. There are certain postures that signify women are up to no good in there. For instance, standing on tiptoes is not a good sign. Neither is someone's feet sticking out with the soles exposed. The media thinks women are wearing platform shoes because the '70s are back. The truth is, we're wearing platforms to prevent our feet from coming into contact with the fetid floor muck that can rise as high as two inches.

Once a stall becomes available, it is important to use the above-mentioned Femme Nikita approach. You will encounter one of two kinds of locks: the broken sliding bolt or the broken twist-and-turn. If you're wearing a coat, keep it on rather than resting it on any germ-laden surface. Never set your purse down on the back of the toilet seat or, God forbid, the sanitary-napkin disposal unit.

The toilet lid will either be up or down and covered with mysterious moisture. The bowl will either be clean, full of bodily fluids or wadded up with toilet paper. Do not be tempted to sit on what appears to be a clean seat. Do not attempt to lower or raise the seat. Don't do anything. Gently slide your underwear down to a position somewhere around your mid-calves. Sliding them above the knee may cause them to be splashed by friendly fire, and sliding them to your ankles may bring them in contact with the floor.

Once you have slid your underwear into position, inch yourself backward while bending in a half-squat until you are hovering over the toilet bowl. Do this without touching the sides of the stall. You may have to hold the door closed with one available outstretched finger. Now try to go without hitting the seat, while preventing your panties from touching the bowl.
Your next challenge may be the procurement of toilet paper. If there is none, you are in for a drip-dry. Don't accept toilet paper from anyone else. Their hands could have been touching the door, the toilet seat, anything! If the toilet paper is the little waxy, non-absorbent square kind, you will need at least 10 or 11.

Now it is time for the flush. Do not touch the toilet handle. Stretch out one leg like a ballerina and flush with your foot. Now get the hell out of there... especially if the flushing noise continues for longer than a minute. Cover your face with a scarf or your hands -- a recent study found that every time a toilet is flushed, it shoots a Hiroshima burst of bacteria eight feet into the air.

It now becomes necessary to wash your hands. This seems a bit self-defeating, as you must touch the germ-laden tap, and the water will not be hot enough to achieve the sterilization you'll need. Touch a paper-towel dispenser and die. Don't think you'll be saved by holding your hands underneath the dryer -- a study shows that those things actually shower you with more bacteria. Your best bet is to hold your hands out in front of you, like the Bride of Frankenstein, and let them air-dry. Or you could go back to your table and wipe them on your boyfriend's shirt. What the hell -- there's nothing you can do at this point. You've been contaminated.

What Did They Just Say?!?

Have you thought about just how different men and women really are from each other? In their thoughts and what comes out of their mouths? I have. And sometimes it just boggles the mind.

YOU'LL NEVER HEAR A MAN SAY... (UNLESS THEY HAVE GAY TENDENCIES)

• I love her but she won't commit to me.
• She's an ambler, a gambler and a midnight rambler.
• We have an "open" relationship.
• She's a bad girl, but I love her because she's bad.
• I'm saving myself for her.
• She's the wind beneath my wings.
• Do these jeans make my thighs look fat?
• She looks really rugged and handsome with a beard.
• Sometimes I just like to have a good cry, and then I feel better.
• She only hit me that one time and she promised me it will never happen again.
• Why does she never phone?
• I get so embarrassed when construction workers whistle at me.
• I go wherever she goes and I'm happy.
• I have to do something about these laugh-lines around my eyes.
• Shopping cheers me up.
• Oh, no, I have cellulite.
• I got my bikini line waxed the other day... ooh, ouch!
• She has big feet so that means she must have a big sex organ.
• I carry my whole life around in my purse.
• I have to pamper my sensitive skin.
• I think we should meet and have a nice, long talk about our relationship and the direction it's headed.
• I just found a suspicious-looking lump in my breast.
• You treat me like a sex object!
• I don't brag at how well I do at my job in case it affects her low self-esteem.
• Some days, I look in the mirror and I hate myself.
• As a man, I have special dietary requirements that are different from a woman's.
• I fake orgasms all the time so she won't feel bad.
• Women are women -- they think with their dinks.
• I have nothing to wear.
• She has a fear of intimacy.
• I want to be with him forever.
• I feel used.
• I have needs.
• You're just like all the rest.
• Are you done already?

AND YOU'LL NEVER HEAR A WOMAN SAY...

• Holy Crap, look at the balls on that one!
• I used to love him but I had to kill him.
• I'm a loner and a rebel.
• Hey, I did you a favor by leaving him.
• Nice legs, shame about the face.
• Wham, bam, thank-you, sir!
• If only he didn't spoil everything by opening his mouth.
• Why does he keep phoning me all the time?
• If he wants to see me he knows where to find me.
• There's those couple a days a month when I know to just... Stay away!
• He led me on.
• There goes a piece of ass!
• He's a screamer. He's a moaner. He's easy.
• He could use a pluck job on his eyebrows.
• Stay away from him... He's an ovary-breaker!
• Nice tits.
• He wants it... You can tell.
• He's good-looking so he's probably a bastard.
• If you really loved me, you'd let me take off the condom.
• Let's live together first and see how it works out and then get married.
• Sex is sex.
• Power is an aphrodisiac -- men will be attracted to you no matter what you look like if you have power.
• He didn't mean anything to me, I swear. It's you I love, I did it just for the sex.
• Don't take the way I am personally -- it's just the way I am.
• I never hit him, I just punch a wall or something instead when I get angry.
• I love you but I'm not in love with you.
• You're too needy.
• I'm no good for you, babe.
• Go find someone worthy of you.
• I don't want to upset you more than you are already, so I thought it best to just stay away.
• Forever is a long time.
• I wear the same socks every day.
• Women have all the power.

Yes, it is strange how different we are in our way of thinking. But I guess we just have to live with it.

I'm the Hare, Where's My Pocket Watch?

Waking up late just totally screws up your whole day. Ugh. Ok, so we did the Fall back thing with the time, but you would think that it would give me an extra hour (sort of) in my day. Of course, it doesn't seem to work that way for me.

I over slept today. For some reason I woke up at 8 am on the dot. Instead of 7 am. This is not good. My son has to catch his bus at 8:30. It takes him ten minutes at least, to actually make it out of his bed and into the shower. Then he takes at least a 45 minute shower. I think he sleeps another ten minutes while he's in there, but I'm not sure. So when I woke him I let him know that we were running late, and I might have to drive him to school. ( I hate doing that, only because there is one lane into the school and one lane out. For his school and an elementary school. ARGH!)

Then he gets out of the shower and tells me that he doesn't feel well. I reminded him that it will screw up his perfect attendance for the semester (they have a party for perfect attendance kids). He thinks about that. Then I tell him, that if he is sick, there is no t.v. and no video games. He thinks real hard about that. Then I remind him that today is Halloween. If he is sick today, there will be no going to parties, or trick-or-treating tonight (this is supposed to be his last year doing that). He didn't say a word about that. He just walked into his room and got dressed. We were shortly on our way to school. Funny how things work out, huh? I don't know if it's a mom thing or what, but I am sure I would have known if he was really sick. SO don't think I sent my kid to school sick.

So now I'm an hour off my schedule and still with tons left to do. This is where my talent of multi-tasking come in. For instance, while I write this, I have a load of laundry in the dryer, one in the wash, I have the space heater on high directed at my head, so I won't have to blow dry, I scrubbed the shower out while I was taking a shower, vacuumed the floor while brushing my teeth, and so forth.

Sometimes I even amaze myself. But now I gotta get movin' some more, before my euphoria at multi-tasking wears off.

What Kind of Diet Did You Call It?

I wish I would of thought of these sooner...


The "Life Diet":

Proper weight control cannot be attained by dieting alone; however, many people who are engaged in sedentary occupations do not realize that calories can be burned by the hundreds, by engaging in strenuous activities that do not require much (or any) physical exercise. Here's the guide to calorie-burning activities and the number of calories per hour they consume.

Beating around the bush . . . . . . . . .75
Jumping to conclusions . . . . . . . . . 100
Climbing the walls . . . . . . . . . . . 150
Swallowing your pride. . . . . . . . . .50
Passing the buck . . . . . . . . . . . .25
Pushing your luck. . . . . . . . . . . 250
Making mountains out of molehills. . . 500
Hitting the nail on the head . . . . . .50
Bending over backwards . . . . . . . . .75
Running around in circles. . . . . . . 350
Climbing the ladder of success . . . . 650

Free to Pick the Shrooms

I mentioned in a earlier post that a judge in California had lumped mushroom and Christmas tree cutting in a federal law stating that there is to be no removing of growing wildlife from National Forest land.

Well, apparently he has seen the error of his ways, and changed the law to not include hobbyists like myself and my family and commercial pickers either.

It just goes to show that when you learn all the facts, your opinion might change. It's too bad though, that he didn't learn these facts before making such a harsh ruling. I'm thankful that he changed his mind, but jeesh, what a putz.

Lost in Translation

My husband is a bartender, and he understands this stuff more than I. So I asked him to help me translate stuff I overheard the other night. I thought it would make for a good laugh. I was right.

"No, really, I'm OK to drive."
--I'm wasted, and I am too embarrassed to have anybody see who I am going home with.

"I'm not used to these darts."
--I'm not used to throwing anything smaller than a pool cue when I am this bombed.

"You get this one, next round is on me."
--We won't be here long enough to get another round.

"I'll get this one, next one is on you."
--Happy hour is about to end....now drafts are a dollar, but by the next round they'll be $4.50 a pop.

"I haven't seen you around here for a long time."
--You stuck up little -----, too good for your old friends??

"Hey, where is that friend of yours?"
--I have no interest in talking to you except as a way to get your attractive friend into a compromising position.

"Lets get out of here."
--I just dumped a half a pitcher of beer into that Harley guy's helmet.

"Ever try a body shot?" (female to male)
--If this is how wild I am in the bar, imagine what I'll do to you on the ride home?

"I don't feel well, let's go home."
(female)--You are paying more attention to your friends than me.

"I don't feel well, lets go home." (male)--I'm horny.

"I've had like 10 beers already."
--I've only had 3 but need an excuse to behave this way.

"Who's got the next round?"
--I haven't bought a round in almost 3 years, but I am an expert at diverting attention.

"Excuse Me." (male to male)
--Get the f--- out of the way.

Any of these sound familiar? HA!

Will the Vikings Ever Grow Up?

I don't think I have ever been so disgusted with The Minnesota Vikings in my life. As a life long fan, being originally from Minnesota I am just shaking my head over the "latest". As in "Hey Vikes fan! Have you heard the latest?". Yeah, yeah I've heard.

Apparently during there last bye week party, some of the player decided to have strippers and/or hookers present. That people, is the extent of it in my opinion. But of course, then the media has to come in.

Is it so hard for these guys to realize that they shouldn't do this kinda stuff when it is a function that is widely covered by the media? Hell, they shouldn't do it period. But they are adults, and should be able to do whatever they want as long as it's legal, right? Well, unfortunately we live in a society that scrutinizes every little thing public figures do. Especially when you are cast as a role model for kids.

My son expressed a desire to play in the NFL once. Because he wants to show that he's a good enough player and of course for the moolah. But I'm curious if I'm going to soon hear that he wants to play in the NFL so he can get hookers and have sex parties? Lord help me, if it comes to that.

It's bad enough that the Minnesota Vikings are showing that they can barely play a decent game of football with a 1 - 4 record so far this season, but now they are also proving that they are nothing but a bunch of immature boys.

I never thought the day would come when I was embarrassed to show my Purple Pride. But alas yesterday during game day was it.

Better Slap The Cuffs On Me

(Me sitting in a jail cell, fellow inmate asks: "What are you in for?" Me: "Picking Chanterelles in a national-freakin-public-forest!") What part of the word "public" am I not understanding here?

This is just the stupidest thing I've seen in a long time. Even as a hobbyist, I can go to jail for taking something out of the forest that most people couldn't find anyway.

I have to say that the California judge that made this ruling needs to learn to do a little more research before making decisions that effect peoples livlihoods and the economy. Man, I wish I could smack this guy.

Check out the story. It's long, but worth the read.

Hunting The Elusive Mushroom: Part II

The trick to finding your favorite edible mushrooms year after year, is to guard the secret place where you found them with everything you got. Once you have found some, and cut them correctly, they will come back every week or so.

Since we hunt and gather chanterelles for our own consumption, sometimes we like to give some away, if we had a very good hunt. Which of course leads to people asking where we found them. This is where it gets tricky. It is hard to tell if a person is asking out of innocent curiosity, or if they are casually asking in the hopes that we are stupid enough to actually tell you. Once last year, my husband told someone where we had gotten our last haul (I don't know why he did) and lo and behold the following week when we went to pick, it was already picked. Mmmm. I can't really get mad at the person who did this, but it still sucked.

The other thing we have to look out for are the commercial pickers. People who do this for a living. Sometimes we drive around looking for potential new "hunting grounds" and oops, we come across someone else's patch. We try really hard not to poach, but if there is no sign of it being picked lately, it's hard to tell. But if they catch you, it can get ugly. This is there livelihood we are talking about. So we just try not to do that.

Last week, we were followed by a couple of other pickers up in the woods. We were on logging roads, and I didn't want them to know where our spot was. So I drove around aimlessly until they got bored and went there own way. But on a good note, by doing this, we actually found a couple of new places. It was an interesting day to say the least.

Anyway, we finally got last weeks haul cleaned and stored, and I can't wait to check out our other spots this week. Wish us luck.

Hunting The Elusive Mushroom: Part I

Mushroom hunting has got to be one my most favorite things to do in the fall, here in Oregon. Although some call it "mushroom picking", I prefer the "hunting" part.

Pictured here is a chanterelle. It's pretty common here in the Pacific Northwest, if you know where to look. Some people pick or hunt 'shrooms for profit. If you do that, you gotta have a permit. But we just do it for our own consumption and because we like the outdoors, and it's way more fun to hike with an objective rather than hiking just to get to the top of a hill.

My husband and I have our spots that we go back to year after year. Unfortunately, sometimes others find our "honey spots", and we have to try to beat them to it the next week.

Today and yesterday were great days for finding this wonderful delicacy. We found probably about 5 lbs yesterday, and 3 lbs today. But hunting here for the chanterelles is not always easy.

First of all, the mushroom picking season just happens to coincide with the deer hunting season. So we have to make sure that we talk really loud while we are in the woods so stupid people wont shoot us. We also wear bright clothing and our bright orange I-am-not-a-deer hats. We rarely hunt mushrooms on the weekends, because that is when most of the deer hunters are out. And I'm sure it pisses them off when we are making so much noise in the woods, trying not to get shot, that all the deer are scared away. Don't get me wrong, I love venison, but I'm only tramping around a very small part of the forest, and the deer have so much more room. Away from me. When we bring our dogs with us, we put bright colored bandannas around there necks so they don't get shot either. Unfortunately one of my dogs looks like a wolf, and another looks like a small bear. And some hunters don't care which season it is. If they see it, they will shoot it.

Another Cool Thing I Found

Here is just another funny thing I found, while surfing the net today.

Either put your own criteria in (if you like to be insulted), or use the facts from the one you hate most.

The Insult Generator

Where's My Stick?!?

If I had a dollar for every person I've wanted to smack with a really big stick, and didn't; I would be so stinkin' rich by now.

Just a few of the people I would like to smack, and why:

1. Martha Stewart; she just deserves it. Anybody that can screw with other people's lives, go to jail, whine about her ankle bracelet, and how hard it is to live in her 8 million dollar prison, just deserves to be smacked with a very big stick!
2. OJ Simpson; deserves to be hit repeatedly with the aforementioned stick. A big one. We all know why.
3. President Bush; just because. There are so many reasons, I can't list them all.
4. People who cut me off in traffic; is there something wrong with their blinker? Is there some kind of law that says they absolutely need to be right in front of me at a particular time in their lives? I think not. Smack! Right upside the head.
5. My neighbor who has 10 cats; none are spayed or neutered, because they think that it is in-humane. Whatever. They (the cats that is) crap in my flowerbeds. They leave footprints on my car. They dig in my flowerbeds. They come into my yard, because they are stupid to remember that I have three dogs. I have three cats myself. Three indoor cats. I don't think anyone else should have to deal with cats that I chose to have as pets. Keep them to yourself.
6. My other neighbor who has two evil dogs; they always choose to let the dogs out into their backyard, when the kids are waiting for the school bus about five feet away. So of course the dogs bark and growl at the kids the entire time the kids are waiting for their bus. Hello? Can they not wait another five minutes to let their dogs outside? Jeez.

Anyway, I guess I am done ranting for now. I'm not sure how I got started on this, but I guess it all started when I couldn't find my stick.

Sometimes Being Hot is a Curse

Ok, so my son was out of town visiting his great grandparents. Normally I would be a bitch about it and say "no", but I started thinking that they are pretty much almost dead, so what the hell. Right?

Anyway, while he was gone, my girlfriend from California came to visit. In the past it was always "girls night out." Apparently not this time.

Every other time she comes up here to visit, I am always the last one to know. (I don't think the other girls like me, but oh well.) And the other girls always say to dress casual. Apparently casual to them is not the same as it is for me. The last few times I showed up wearing jeans, and a t-shirt that says something like "Who needs big tits when you have an ass like mine", or something along those lines. And they are wearing their cute little caprees, pretty blouses and little cute sandals that match. I am, shall we say, a little underdressed. Anyway....Not this time.

This Friday, I showed up dressed to kill. "Kill what?", you might ask? I'm not sure, but I was DROP DEAD GORGEOUS! (If I do say so myself.) So, I get to the house where we were meeting at, and....No one dressed nice at all. They didn't look like bums or anything, but come on! No effort was taken at all! So of course I was the one now "over dressed". Crap. Apparently I cannot win at this game.

So I decided just to be the "hot one" in the group. Which would of been great, except for one thing. Around ten o'clock, everyone pooped out. Except me. "Early soccer game", "early volleyball game for the kids", "I have a severely broken leg and don't want to be around drunk people". BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've heard it all.

So I ended up going out by myself, looking extremely hot, to the bar that my hubby works at. And apparently no other women wanted to take any time on themselves either, because I was pretty much the hottest chick there. I don't know if it was the crappy weather or what, but I'm taking the credit where I can.

After I got home, I looked in the full length mirror, and decided I was not so bad, for a thirty-two year old. I almost had to fend them off with a stick. Not really, but it's my fantasy anyway.

Interesting test...

When people ask me how I describe myself politically, I never know what to say. I was never sure how to describe it. But I took this test, which is actually pretty interesting and came up with this. I think it hit it right on the nose.

You are a Social Liberal (66% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (18% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

B R A I N J O B: Bite Me Dr. Spock

B R A I N J O B: Bite Me Dr. Spock, this post that I read this morning via BlogExplosion, just about underlines my own thinking on other peoples views on parenting. Check it out.

Looking For A Job Blows Chunks

I hate looking for work. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks. I should get paid to look for work. HA. In a perfect world, that's what my job would be. Hell, I have tons of experience. Sigh...

Every year or so, my husband decides that it might be better for us if I got a job. Why? I don't know. He likes it when I stay home, take care of the house, yard, kid, all three dogs, three cats, and God know what else that comes up. But usually around the holidays he asked me if I might want to find a two day a week thing. I guess to pay for the X-mas presents or something. Anyway, with all my experience of filling out job applications, I have compiled a list of things NOT to put on an application.

DESIRED POSITION: Reclining. Ha ha. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn't be applying here in the first place.

DESIRED SALARY: $185,000 a year plus stock options. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.

EDUCATION: Yes. Some.

LAST POSITION HELD: Target for middle-management hostility.

SALARY: Less than I'm worth.

MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT: My incredible collection of stolen pens and post-it notes.

REASON FOR LEAVING: It sucked.

HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK: Any.

PREFERRED HOURS: 1:30-3:30 p.m., Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?: Yes, but they're better suited to a more intimate environment.

MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?: If I had one, would I be here?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 LBS?: Of what?

DO YOU HAVE A CAR?: I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"

HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?:I may already be a winner of the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.

DO YOU SMOKE?: Only when set on fire.

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?: Living in Hawaii with a fabulously wealthy stud who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that now.

DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?: No, but I dare you to prove otherwise.

SIGN HERE: Leo with Libra rising.

*These are the lessons learned only from time. Sigh...I hate looking for work.

Yet Again, People Are Trying To Profit From a Disaster

It amazes me the sneaky and sometimes vicious things some will do to make money at the expense of others. Read the Washington Post article and you will see what I mean.

From registering domain names with the words "Rita" or Hurricane relief" in them, to generate traffic, to trying to auction off a burnt piece of toast with the hurricane symbol on it on eBay. Give me a break.

As if the feds don't have better things to do than monitoring the scum that attempt to make money from tragedies such as these. But of course that doesn't occur to them. All these "people" worry about is making a buck. They probably figure that it is not affecting them, since they live in the north or someplace no where near the Gulf coast.

I'd like to know how they would feel if a disaster hit their area or their house and property. Do you think they would describe it as "Free Enterprise" when some asshole tries to profit from their suffering? I think not. And of course the profitting would be disguised as a way to help victims.

So to everyone out there that really wants to help: Stick with donating to those organizations you know you can trust, like the Red Cross or The Humane Society. And stay away from anything you don't recognize.

And if you do come across a suspicious website or other publication advertising relief or money in any way to the latest disasters, report them to The Internet Fraud Complaint Center. They are in partnership with the FBI. Let's get them suckers!

Just Cool Stuff

I was surfing around this morning and got a good laugh. Of course my sense of humor might be a little off, but too bad. Anyway, I thought I would share something I found.

Check out the site FakeCrap.com There might be fake crap there if you go by the name but my personal favorite is the Redneck Horn. If you just want to listen to what comes outta this thing go here.

I so want one of these. But then again, I think I would have to figure out a way to hook it up to a bullhorn or loudspeaker to come out of the front of my truck. It's just not worth it if the butt head you dealing with can't hear it.

Have I....?

I stole this meme from the site Aint It Amzing who stole it from Melody who stole this from Sue , who stole it from Sheri who stole it from her sister-in-law Sandra.

smoked a cigarette ... yes
crashed a friend's car.... I can't remember, I plead the fith
stolen a car . . . Nope
been in love ... Thought I was once, now I definitely am
been dumped .... Hell yeah, worse than the worst
shoplifted... Not on purpose
been fired ... Oh yeah...Many times
been in a fist fight ... High school I was ambushed, and I might of started a few in a later life
snuck out of your parent's house..... yes, of course (I was bad)
had feelings for someone who didn't have them back. .. Once
ever been arrested? . . . Nope
gone on a blind date...A few, left one when he asked if I was wearing panties during the desert course
lied to a friend ... Not ever
skipped school .... Once in a while.
seen someone die... Saw a guy in a bar once have a heart attack and was dead before he hit the floor. But he died while playing pool and drinking beer. How bad can that be?
been to Canada.... Nope
been to Mexico ... Nope
been on a plane .... Bunches of times, but the worst was being trapped in Denver due to fog for three days at the airport with my Chihuahua in tow
purposely set a part of yourself on fire - uh. No, what the hell kind of question is that?
eaten Sushi...... yes, like some
been skiing..... Nope, not on purpose
met someone in person from the internet . . . yes
been moshing at a concert .... No, what's moshing? LOL . . .
taken pain-killers . . . yep, best invention ever
love someone or miss someone right now . . . yes, miss a lot of people
laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by ... Yup, but not lately.
made a snow angel ..... Grew up in Minnesota, so I guess that would be a yes
had a tea party .... Nope
flown a kite. . . Yup
built a sand castle .... Yup, but they always look like crap.
gone puddle jumping .... Does puddle splashing count?
played dress up . . . All the time, still do.
cheated while playing a game.......Yeah, but don't tell anyone.
been lonely . . . All the time
fallen asleep at work/school .... Both.
used a fake id..... Nope, never had to. . .
watched the sun set. . . yes, best one was on my wedding day after the ceremony
felt an earthquake ..... yes, in my water bed. Weird feeling, I'll tell yah!Touched a snake....... yes
slept beneath the stars...... Yes, and was awake all night waiting for the bears to come eat me
been tickled. . . Unfortunately yes
been robbed . . . Had my purse stolen, sucks.
been misunderstood . . . Chronically
petted a reindeer/goat ...Does it count if you use your car?
won a contest ... YES I DID! I won front row tickets to see Diamond Rio, by finding five plants using their Latin names at a plant nursery in less than 9 min and 97 sec. I did it even after the automatic sprinklers turned on. Fuckers.
ran a red light... I plead the fith
been suspended from school.... nope
been in a car accident ... Does it count if I was the only one involved? HA
had braces. . . Not on my teeth
eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night...... I don't like ice cream
had deja vu. . . I think so.
danced in the moonlight ......a little dancing, a little howling, a little drinking, possibly mooning...(wink wink, Sonja. :-)
witnessed a crime ........ Maybe
questioned your heart . . . . No
been obsessed with post-it notes . . . Oh hell yeah, when I realized that I lost my mind, I had to put post it notes on everything. (stole that one, but oh so true)
squished barefoot through the mud . . . One of my favorite pastimes
been lost.... Never. And wouldn't admit it if I had been.
been to the opposite side of the country... a few times.
swam in the ocean .... Not on purpose
felt like dying.......Never
cried yourself to sleep .... Cried myself pissed off, works better for me that way
recently colored with crayons .... Nope
sung karaoke....More times than I can count!!
paid for a meal with only coins . . . Dollar menu at McD's. Nothing wrong with that!
done something you told yourself you wouldn't.....Lots
laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose..... Maybe
caught a snowflake on your tongue . . . Lots
danced in the rain . . . Naked even.
written a letter to Santa Claus . . . I don't remember
been kissed under a mistletoe .... Been a while
watched the sun rise with someone you care about?. . . Yup
blown bubbles...I don't know anyone named Bubbles.
made a bonfire on the beach . . . yes, and still froze my ass off!
crashed a party. . . I don't remember
gone roller-skating....... Oh God the memories...Ah, Skateworld.
had a wish come true ...The best one, yes
worn pearls ... yes
jumped off a bridge ... No, and don't want to, you can't make me
told a complete stranger you loved them. . . I don't think so
kissed a mirror . . . The fith again
sang in the shower .... Every day, and lets just say that I would not make a very good exotic dancer either, unless you are into the wiggly-jiggly kind.
had a dream that you married someone .... Yeah, but it did not come true, cuz, I've never met Mel Gibson. Yummy!
glued your hand to something..... Who told you?!?
got your tongue stuck to a flag pole.... Nope
kissed a fish... What the hell kind of question is that?
sat on a roof top ... Yeah, but not for long, it was sloping.
screamed at the top of your lungs. . . Guilty
done a one-handed cartwheel....Long ago
talked on the phone for more than 6 hours ...Long ago
stayed up all night.... Not if I can help it
didn't take a shower for a week. . . Only if you don't count the "creek bath".
pick and ate an apple right off the tree . . . Hell no.
climbed a tree . . . Yup, and fell down too
had a tree house . . . No, I was deprived
had a complete stranger tell you You are Hot..... Every day. (Shut up, Sonja! It's true no matter what you say!)
met someone you swear you have met in another life .... Uh...No.