It's a blogger's life

Guest Blog provided by the Jimmer
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Some of you may or may not know that Rebecca has been extremely busy at work these last few days. So, since I’ve commented on it in the past, she asked if I would “pinch blog” for her. At first, I was thrilled. However, over the last few hours I’ve realized that this isn’t as easy as it seems. Picking a topic and rambling about it is usually my thing. Ask anybody that knows me. But, when it came to my “15 minutes of fame” I began fumbling around. What should I write about? Does anybody care about that? After all, in my opinion the object of the blog is to spark conversation amongst this group. Isn’t it? Which means, the only measuring stick for a blog is the number of responses one gets, right? I don’t know, you tell me. Then again, maybe you don’t care about this. Anywho, I finally realized what a blow, or boost, a blog can be to the blogger’s self-esteem. Which brings me to my point; I think we should all take a moment out of our day to thank Rebecca. Since the inception of the blog, she has brought us entertaining quips that take us out of our daily lives and has given us a moment to relax and keep things in perspective. So, Hooray Rebecca!! Hooray Blogs!! Boo No Responses!!

P.S. I couldn’t submit this without making a couple of comments about sports. After all, I’m consumed by it.

1) White Sox – They are in trouble. 11 games left and they need to win at least 10…

2) Cubs – They have been done since the season started.

3) Bears – Looks like we actually have an offense this year…How long will that keep up though?

4) Black Hawks – Who cares? You can’t even watch the home games on TV. They did win their first preseason game last night though.

Where the hell is everyone?

One minute you're all emailing me because I'm not posting. Now I'm posting and none of you are anywhere to be found. No one. Nada. What's up?

Circa Ducky "Do I offend?"

Don't tell me you guys are actually working, too???

Worst days ever in the last week here at work - I rely on you for my comic relief...someone, please, throw me a flotation device of some kind.

Drum roll please...

So Alex had his first lesson with his new drum instructor last night. He's an older guy, kind of stutters when he talks...not on words...on whole sentences...so he repeats himself a lot. But he's supernice. After Alex's lesson he pulls me into a side room saying "We need to talk."

This sounded serious.

Basically he wanted to tell me that Alex is an extremely proficient drummer. Leap years ahead of his time for the amount of time he's spent in lessons. But he doesn't know what he's doing. Whoops. He said "I don't want to knock any other lessons, but Alex is doing these fantastic rolls, but when I ask him if can do a such-and-such roll, he'll say no. Then I'll demonstrate it and not only will he do that, but he'll do the one that's more difficult than that." So Alex doesn't know what anything is called, but he's doing all of these amazing percussion type things.

Doesn't this sound great?
Ummmm, yeah...I'M RAISING A DRUMMER. For the love. Seriously? A drummer? Keith Moon? Tommy Lee? And holy mother...Max Weinberg? Ringo Starr? Kenny Aranoff - the happiest drummer alive. And that one armed guy from Def Leppard. I mean I guess there's redemption in Phil Collins and Don Henley...sort of. And Neil (if you're asking Neil who, stop talking to me). And that AWESOME guy that plays with McCartney. I dated my fair share of drummers...they never.stop.drumming. On the steering wheel, on the dashboard...on their legs, on your shoulder when they have their arm around you. It's maddening, I tell you.

Wasn't I a good mother? Is this what karma has brought me? A son with a drum kit right over my head? Is this my payback for breaking up with Bill Trowbridge not once, not twice but 3 or 4 times and then being in the car when his girlfriend decided to steal it and wreck it? *shaking my fist at the sky* IS MY KARMA DEBT PAID???

Anyway...Alex loves this new drum instructor. Says he has a great sense of humor. And this guy thinks the world of Alex. I'm excited for him. I think he's going to learn a lot. And he definitely loves it. Ask my mom who was so tickled at the site of Alex drumming his fingers on the dining room table she almost fell over. She's dying to have a grandson in the "drumline." You can take the daughter out of the marching band, but you can't take the marching band fan out of the (grand)mother. Oy. I can just see him now, wearing a snare and some hat with a feather. Does Andrean have a marching band? No? Janet will be devastated.

ETA: Alex is hilarious btw - there's something to be said for raising a smart boy with a broad vocabulary. Last night on the ride home...Alex and Owen are goofing off in the backseat and I was telling them that if they didn't stop it they would have to rub my feet when we got home. Next thing I know Alex says "Moooooom, Owen is looking at me triumphantly." Are you KIDDING me? Who SAYS that? Looking at me triumphantly?? TRIUMPHANTLY??? Killing me.

Momma bear claws are coming out...

Most of you know me. Some of you are just my BBFF - best blogging friends forever (thanks Eileen) - but most of you actually know me. I'm not a worrier - I'm a water-off-a-duck's-back kinda gal. I'm the same way with my children. I don't worry. Sometimes people are like "doesn't such-and-such scare you?" And maybe the problem is not only doesn't it scare me - it doesn't even occur to me that I should worry. Is that good? Bad? Somewhere in between?

Well, kids - the lamb was sent to slaughter this weekend. I'm officially worried. Owen got CREAMED on Sunday. Not just hit, like "rrrrrrrr, this is FOOTBALL." CREAMED with a capital EAMED. He didn't get up. Those Slicer boys just came over the line and pummeled my boy. And then he didn't get up. And he wasn't moving. And I've flashed back to every sports film I've ever seen where the hit gets replayed in slow motion and wham!wham!wham! and he's not moving. First I just stood up. Then I came down to the bottom of the bleachers. I contemplated running onto the field. But Coach Kevin was running faster than I've seen in years, so I felt good about that, at least. But I didn't know what was happening and it was scary. I'm surprised the Janet wasn't out there, to be quite honest. She kept her cool better than I did! And when it comes to her grandkids, no one can lose her cool like the Janet. :)

He got up after a few minutes and ran off the field - sat out a couple of plays and then was back in it. He took quite a few horrible hits yesterday - one where kids actually came at him from the front and the back and he kind of got scissored. Yowzers. Usually I wait for his reaction before I react - when he pops back up and runs to the huddle, I breathe just fine. But in those moments where he doesn't - I think my heart stops.

On the flip side, Alex looks to be quite the aggressive player these days in soccer. His first game is next Monday. I'll try to have some pics.

The reason for my downtime...

So I downed my site the other day. A minor little panic attack on my part. I mean, I'm a geek, I know this is out there for the universe to read. And I know I'm not always nice about people, about things, about people doing things...but for the most part, I really feel like my readership on this blog is confined to the people I'm not bashing. That is an entirely different site that you guys know NOTHING about, because that's where I talk about you.

HA!

I'm just kidding.

Am I?

Sure I am! I love you guys...love you like I would marry you...group hug!

One person that has read this blog is my oldest son, Alex. He's 13 and God love him, he thinks I'm HILARIOUS. Poor sap. I've really scarred him for life with my senseless babble, but I'm proud to say I do still have the ability to crack that boy into a belly laugh. Remember him the day after Meg's wedding? He didn't want to go outside and play because he wanted to stay and listen to our war stories from the night before. He thinks we're all super fucking funny, actually, and I've always loved that about him. He gets it.

And not that he reads my blog everyday, in fact, I think he's only read it twice. But I think he would read it everyday...and therein lies our problem. The other day I posted my longwinded rambling about CMKM and my visit to her house. Not 5 minutes after the fact, a response posted. It was from "alex", and all it was was a smiley face.

Okay - something you all don't know is that most of the time if I email Al, his response is usually a one word answer and a smiley. This response on my blog TOTALLY freaked me out. Ask Julie, I was on the phone with her when I read it. He's at school, and yes, at some point he has a computer class. I would like to think that he didn't actually know the address of my blog by heart, but damn him he has my memory for such things. I would like to think that he wouldn't pull my blog up in school, but damn him he thinks I'm funny. I would like to think he wouldn't share that information with his classmates, but he does like to share his funny nonsense with the world...and that just might mean MY funny nonsense.

So I downed the site until I could confer with my client.
After school I asked him if he was on my blog today...no. And then he said "I'm not even sure I could get there if I wanted to. We didn't even have computers today." PHEW! Crisis avoided...blog back online. I reinforced the fact that hey, I might say things that other people don't appreciate/find funny/understand...so let's make sure we keep this blog to ourselves. He whole-heartedly agreed. LOVE that boy.

I need to be a better geek...

Because really - I needed cameras with me yesterday. Sweet Jesus wearing a peace sign - this house...straight out of the 1974 guide to home decorating. I needed my Maxwell Smart secret squirrel camera pen, or a broach recording video footage or something. You all simply would NOT believe it. She is holding open houses for her products in September, October and November. I am accepting applications for the volunteers to go with me to one of these events to validate what I am about to describe.

First - ding for me on the foyer being ceramic. What I didn't anticipate was the floral wallpaper. I should have seen it coming. The house is a 1960-something design with HUGE windows in the front. Yellow brick - and the doors are...wait for it...turquoise. The wallpaper in the foyer almost tries to eat you when you walk in, the flowers are that.big. When you walk in you can either go through another set of doors or go down some L shaped stairs to the right. These stairs have the old school wrough-iron handrail - you know what I'm talking about. When you get downstairs - there's like this sitting room. It's HUGE...with bookcases and knick-knacks everywhere. A whole dresser/table with beer steins on it. ??? Then she took me into another room.

Holy mother....I wasn't sure if I was trying skin care products or shooting porn. Red carpet. Red velvet bench seats. Pool table. Bar with this strange circa 1972 globe lighting system. And in the corner? A Christmas tree of lanterns with poinsettia wraparounds. Products were lined up on the bench seats and at the end? A yooooooge raggedy-ann doll. I mean almost life-size. But WAIT, If forgot my FAVORITE part. as you walk into this "rec" room...the wall was lined with one of those knee-high planters with ginormous fake rubber plants in it. An the planter itself was supposed to look like it was made from sawed off trees. Seriously. I want to draw you a picture. And there were products EVERYWHERE. On every surface. The bench seating, the pool table, the bar...lined up like this was a store and not a "rec" room.

When we start she tells me that she had her "assistant" set everything up today, and she didn't get out everything she needed, so she's dashing to this other back part of the basement to grab stuff every now and again. This woman had a whole room of products. I got the impression she's been doing this awhile. She has an ASSISTANT? Whodawa?

We started with skin care, and despite my best efforts - I really liked the stuff. I've got samples of the hydrator and the microderm abrasion skin scrub or whatever the shit is actually called - it was really great.

But "glamour"? Not-so-much. First - I suck at glamour...make-up...or anything that resembles it. So if you hand me a sampler of 3 eyeshadows, despite the color-by-numbers pics that come with it, I will screw it up. The eye color was fine, except for the sage eyeliner (I just can't do it) - but the lip color that came with the set? Seriously...CORAL. More like a coral/fuschia...and when she opens it declares "that color will look great on you." You're fucking kidding me, right? Have you seen my skin tone? Eye color? Hair color? Lady, I don't know diddly squat shit and I know that that color is hideous on ANYONE...especially ME. But I put it on, you know why? Because I could. And I wanted someone to see it. Alex was no help. I asked him if I looked weird and he said no. I said 'not even my lipstick looks weird??' and he just shook his head and said 'I'm not good at noticing that sort of stuff.'

But when Kevin got home from football I TOTALLY got the reaction I was looking for. "What in the HELL happened to YOU??" I just laughed. "What is up with that lipstick?? I can't even hardly talk to you - you have to take that off."

I left there purchasing concealer (it's got MAGIC in the bottle that took 5 years off me at LEAST) and mascara. I will probably buy the hydrator and the microderm stuff. My face feels good today and let's face it, I'm not getting any younger.

The conversation was strained at best - talk about the kids...she's a CP native, went to Trinity herself...she "would love the opportunity to come to my house and do a 'show' for my friends." If I thought you all wouldn't show up with pitchforks and torches to kill me I would totally do it.

Mostly I was proud of myself. I didn't buy too much. I didn't buy any skin care stuff until I used it for awhile. Be proud of me. But I am going to one of those open houses, with or without you. And I'm taking my camera.

Sometimes the planets just align...

But not Pluto. Because it's not a planet. It's a star, or a moon or a dwarf or something, but it is NOT a planet. So my very excited mother DID NOT just send us nine pizzas. Because there are no pizzas. There is no spoon. Are you with me here people? My very excited mother just sent us nine. Nine what? Nine dwarves apparently...but there were only seven dwarves...and none of them were named Pluto either. So you can see where this continues to get confusing for me. Apparently Disney and NASA need to get together and sort this whole mess out.

The 8 remaining planets (the other 8 are okay, right??) aligned for me last night. Monday is a busy day in the Crum house. I had to leave work (late) and race to pick up Owen. Kev-head was on Alex duty. I got home, fix grilled cheese, took the roast out of the crock pot, dished out soup (vegetable soup, mmmmmm) and set the table. The soup was cool and dinner was ready to go when Alex and Kevin came home. Alex had just enough time to eat and change out of ewwwwww.sweaty soccer clothes before we were off to music lessons. He's supposed to have guitar from 7-730, wait 30 minutes and then drums from 8-830. Do the math here, people...that has me leaving my house at 6:40 and not seeing it again until almost 9. For music lessons. Oy. But Al LOVES it, so we march on. The beauty of last night? Drum lessons were canceled. No one bothered to tell the instructor that he had a new student. This might infuriate some people. I was so happy I almost kissed the receptionist. They were apologizing all over themselves. I told them I had laundry and a nice warm bed waiting for me - and as long as I get a credit for the missed lesson next month, we're golden. :)

So we got home at a much more reasonable hour, cleaned the kitchen, started some laundry...and then Kevin and I actually got to sit in the hot tub. YEAH baby! It's hot tub season. What a great way to wait for the socks & undies to finish in the wash. So I got everything done I needed to, including returning a couple of phone calls about scouting, and I got to bed at a fairly decent hour. After one glass of wine and a hot tub soak, sister was ready for some sleep. HA! Take that Benadryl!

Today is CMKM day - tomorrow should be a very fun blog day. If it's uneventful, don't worry...I'll make shit up.

ETA: The Onion is cracking me up, people! Go and have yourself a laugh. Now. Go already. Geez...you'd think I was asking you to wash my car or something. GO. Will you wash my car? No? Then go read the friggin' onion...

Curiosity killed the cat...

Oh I admit it...I can get pretty curious. Okay. Nibby. Sometimes other people just intrigue me. And not in that "I want to get to know them" sort of way. I just want to know ABOUT them. I don't know why.

So that's where I am with crazy Mary Kay mom....I'm sooooooo going to her house tomorrow after work, loveys. THIS will be a hoot, I'm sure. I'm already worried about what to wear, because you know her house is the kind where you MUST take your shoes off before stepping off the welcome mat. I can't wear anything that leaves me with bare feet! Because I'll be sweating with nerves all the way over there and then I'll take off my shoes and I'll leave little footy sweat marks on her hardwood/ceramic/marble entranceway. You just KNOW she has one.

Tigger and I were talking about it. What do YOU think CMKM has - angels everywhere or country-kitchen look everywhere? Is there a goose with clothes on her front porch? Is there a curio cabinet lit up 24/7 with precious moments? tea cups? Collectible spoons hanging in the foyer? Does she have a seasonal flag out front? A painted mailbox? I should tell you, she's a VU grad, if that influences your decision making any. And her daughters ride horses. And she drives an Escalade. and no, it's not pink. But her only job, that I know of, is MK.

Cast your votes, now people! And to quote her..."I mainly want to show you the skin care products, and I'll send you home with some glamour items. Since you are more interested in skin care than cosmetics." So maybe I won't leave there looking like a clown?

Flash update!

Remember creepy mom at graduation who looked at me and said something about "such a pretty girl"...

I think she gets botox injections, because her mouth doesn't move right when she talks. It's very strange.

ANYWAY - that's not what I'm here to tell you about. I'm here to tell you that she approached me yesterday. "Ummmm, yes, Rebecca, I've been meaning to talk to you..." Okay, I was a little scared. It was a little wicked witch of the west for me ... "come here my little pretty, and your little son, too." Her mouth doesn't really move, and she's wearing this dark pink lipstick and she knows my name??? Who knew? "I was wondering if you have any interest in Mary Kay products"

Oh for the love. Well THAT explains a lot. The embroidered denim. The flamboyant jewelry. The always made-up appearance. The staring. Okay, well maybe not the staring.

Am I that transparent? Do I actually, physically wear a sign that says "can't say no." UGH. And proceeds to tell me that she plans to encourage all of the 8th grade parents to maybe buy some of her products because she wants to donate a portion of the proceeds to the D.C. trip fund. Just.kill.me.now. And she wants me to come to her HOUSE so she can "treat me to a makeover." Sweet Jesus playing poker...please. Shoot me. So maybe she wasn't really saying how pretty I was earlier this year. Maybe there was a whole OTHER conversation going on in her head. OUTWARDLY she was saying "such a pretty girl" the END of that statement was in her head "if only she'd use some better skin care products and learn how to actually use make-up, she has potential" She was looking at the ring on my finger, and I thought she was doing the marriage check, when in fact, maybe she was sizing up my rock thinking "I bet I could get some money out of this one" and suckers me in with the whole "I'll donate part of the proceeds".

I told her I could use a hydrator. Only I didn't say that. I said something completely dorky like "I was using some stuff that's supposed to add more water to your skin, or something like that" and she nodded knowingly - ahhhhhh, you need a hydrator. And the tentacles came out and she jammed them into the side of my neck and WHAM! I was stuttering about moisturizers and dry spots and I think an oral fixation problem I had when I was little....I'm not sure...I kind of went into this zone of idiocy.

Anyway, we're totally friends now. Glad that's over. And I managed to find a band-aid for the holes in my neck where she sucked the life out of me. It's very Pulp Fiction.

It's gotta be the shoes...

102, 115, 119...

I bowled two games better than my average of 104. This is a good thing. I think this brings my average up to 108. I am ON FIRE! Everyone loved my shoes. Well, at least that's what they told me. For all I know in their heads they were like "What was she THINKING with those multicolored things???" But to my face they were all "Those are great!" Whatever. I totally love them. And they were comfy. And I bowled well. For me that is...not compared to other people. But I know one person, one MALE bowler in fact that I totally beat last night.

Because he was sitting in jail.

Yeah, around the second frame, 4 uniformed, bullet proof vest wearing officers came in to the bowling alley, walked right up to the lane, TOOK THE BALL OUT OF THIS GUY'S HAND, cuffed him, read him his rights and walked his ass out the door. DRAMA! At the bowling alley! On my second night! This was exciting and scary. My next few frames were not so good. I insisted our whole team should be given treatment for post traumatic stress...it was the freakiest thing ever. But I pulled it out in the end. I overcame the stress, because I'm a winner! From that point forward, our team motto for the evening, no matter how bad the gutter ball or how upsetting the open frame, we would shout "At least we're not in jail." It caught on. Pretty soon even the men were howling "at least we're not in jail" after throwing a bad ball. It was brilliant.

Wanna know what's really awesome about my team? They laugh at my stupidity and GET IT and I get them. They like to quote old stupid movies, they get my old song references...they like to celebrate strikes old school with white girl versions of the running man and roger rabbit. They know what "spirit fingers" means. BRILLIANT.

I can't bowl next Thursday because of a conflict. Part of me is very sad, because we won last night and it's fun. But I gotta tell ya...these last two Friday mornings. Yowzers. Going to bed at midnight sucks.

Alex had a great practice yesterday. At the end they were practicing penalty shots and he had some great upper corner strikes. Hurrah! Kevin said that the coach is teaching Owen some more difficult plays at QB. Apparently his faith in our offensive line is waning, and he feels like his best shot is to try and get Owen to do some tricky stuff. This could be really good...or it could be really, really bad. We'll see next Sunday.

No sugar tonight in my coffee, no sugar tonight in my tea

No sugar to stand beside me
No sugar to run with me....

It's a Guess Who kind of day.

No time for a summer friend
No time for the love you send
Seasons change, and so did I
You need not wonder why
You need not wonder why
There's no time left for you
No time left for you

I love my kids, I do. You know I do. We all know I do. But right now? Right now I want to sell them. Sell them for some serious cash. Because they are costing me a FORTUNE. Seriously.
The little one?
Book rental? $150
New back pack $20
Football fees? $110
and then I have to feed the growing bastard!

And the big one?
Book rental/registration? $205
Band fees? $50
Soccer fees? $25
Soccer gear? $65
Percussion kit? $72 rental for 4 months.

Sweet Jesus on a roller coaster - I found out YESTERDAY that Alex started soccer TODAY. A full 24 hours notice loveys...so now Alex is at after school care. Then he'll go to soccer...and then he has to spend the evening at the bowling alley with dear old mom.

Speaking of which, I got some bowling kicks today. They make them now so they hardly even look like the "traditional" bowling shoe, but I don't really like those. I wanted something retro. Something that screams - I BOWL! And I found them. They are navy on one side, powder blue on the other with a red stripe down the tongue and on the heel. I LOVE these shoes. I'm wearing them now. Trying to break them in a little so they're not so stiff. And YES Jimmer, I'm wearing covers on them right now, too, so I don't damage the sole or get dirt on them. Geez. Whatddya think I am? A friggin' amateur? I bowl a 104 average right now - I'm practically a semi-amateur.

But I got off track. This is about the Guess Who...and my lack of time. Lack.of.time.
Tomorrow Alex has band and then soccer. Owen has to be picked up by 5:30, but Alex's practice doesn't end until 5:45. Then Owen has a sock hop at 7 and a slumber party after. Tomorrow Alex has a car wash fundraiser for the Washington, D.C. trip and Owen has football. Kevin and I have plans to divide and conquer with the kids and their conflicting schedules. Which leads me to wonder...will we ever eat dinner as a family again? Will we all ever actually be home at the same time? The answer is YES! But only on Wedesdays. So there is a new rule. Wednesday is don't bug the Crum's day. Because we'll be doing laundry, and opening mail, and maybe, just maybe actually sitting down to a meal together.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Football ends October 8th. Soccer ends technically October 17th. I can do this. I can make it through. Don't even talk to me about scouts. and music lessons. and bowling. and Kev-head whining that he's not putting enough miles on his HD.

And people wonder why I drink.

Whiny happy people holding haaaaaaands....

Oh, that's not how it goes? Sorry, my bad.

Hi my name is {insert name here}, and I'm a blog-a-holic...
I love you guys. You know I do. I love you like family. Well, not like my sister family, because I don't really like my sister. But like my family that I like. You get me here, right? I love you like I would marry you. But really. This has to stop. I have become like crack cocaine for some of you. You're like Bad Company, you can't get enough. And I do aim to please.

But as we all know - I do *ahem* have a life. And by life I mean job. j.o.b. Now I realize that most of my day is spent surfing the net and responding meanly to your email forwards, but sometimes...albeit a small percentage of the time...I actually have work to do. *gasp* And sometimes...just sometimes...that work is important. *double gasp* So important, in fact, that I don't even log in my required hours of Kathy time. Or email tomfoolery with Julie. Or, unfortunately blog time with you.

So please, please don't be offended. Don't take it personal. Don't run to your therapist with feelings of abandonment. That's what the comments section is for...so you can take care of each other in the lean times. Make each other laugh...and then you'll all feel better.

Now give mumsie a hug...

Bowling league - a subculture I can TOTALLY break into...

BRILLIANT. As you recall, I struggled with my new biker babe/bitch status at the Hooter's Bike Night. It wasn't pretty.

But now. Now I'm a bowling bitch. I am a member of the R&C team in the Thursday Night Powder Puff League. YEAH baby! My team is great. I already set the team motto and they welcomed it with open arms "Set the bar low." Yeah, you heard me...then it can only go up from there! I set my bar at 75. I bowled a 93, a 111 and a 108. See! See how well my strategy works! Not bad for my first night using a house ball and wearing someone else's shoes. I'll take it! My team is Ryan, Dawn, Misty and Chrissy. Several one-liners came out of the evening like:
"It's all about the beer" (in reference to Chrissy's game falling after she switched to diet pepsi, and then her game picking up when she got another beer)
"You got this. Do it just like we practiced!" (what I shouted to Misty when she was looking at a 7-10 split.)
"No premature cheering"

This last one is very important. It ruins your bowling karma. I saw several spares go awry because of premature cheering. Just because they look good going down doesn't mean you should shout about it. Not until the pins fall, baby.

I didn't get hollered at by anyone, so apparently my bowling etiquette was fine. Either that or they were taking it easy on the new girl. Ryan's mother-in-law was with us and warned us that we have to pay attention to who is up when. I guess some teams get really crunchy with you if you're not paying attention and that little arrow on the scoreboard flashes under your name too long. Because socializing is not more important than bowling. It's not.

I also need to buy a deck of naked boy cards if I want to fit in. Boys with inappropriately large and rather scary looking penises. There was a deck on every table.

Basically, they drink, they cuss, they talk too loud, they say inappropriate things, buy 50-50 tickets and love to eat. So I now have 4 new supergay best friends. Why oh why haven't I done this before??

HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNCLE DUG-O!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHAE!!!

Ba-na-na-na-na-na You say it's your birthday...ba-na-na-na-na-na...it's my birthday, too, yeah!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR KATHYYYYYYYYY
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Ah yes - it's the young Kathy's birthday. Which means it was the G-meister's birthday yesterday. Hooray G! Hooray Kathy! Hooray birthdays! Hooray eating thai food! Hooray cake from Beck's!

Boooooo working on rainy gloomy days.

I have actually had so many blogging topics in my head these days ... and right now I cannot think of one of them. My brain is on overloaded lately. So much going on, so much to remember...and every now and then I'll say something funny and think "that would be AWESOME for the blog!" You guys would laugh, and make funny responses and I would laugh. It would be such great blogging fun! And then. Then I put my hands on the keyboard and phhhhhht. nuthin. I can't remember a damn thing. Like Julie and I had quite a funny conversation on the phone last night. I can't remember what it was about, but I remember that I had her cracking up. And I remember something at somepoint during that conversation might have been blogworthy. What is this mystery subject? The world may never know. Because after that conversation abruptly ended with my battery dying and Julie talking to dead air, I had to go to the store and buy pet food and other misc. groceries, pick up food at KFC for Kev-head and Owie (they are addicted to the bowls)...find Owen's missing football helmet...get home, check the mail, check homework, watch Rockstar and fall asleep on the couch.

Maybe I need to carry around a little notebook. Maybe I need a little tape recorder that I can walk around and talk into to remind myself of blog topics and funny anecdotes. Like blog dictation. Blogtation we'll call it. BRILLIANT.

I would like to get on my soapbox for one itty-bitty minute here. Email hoaxes people. Seriously. Look them up before you forward them. No, they're not publishing your cell phone to telemarketers. No, you are not going to die from rat urine on your coke cans. Your not going to make thousands of dollars from Microsoft or AOL for forwarding emails. Say that to yourself out loud. Bill Gates is going to pay you to forward an email. You're fucking kidding me, right? There are no needles anywhere and you're not going to die heating up water for your morning tea. The mulch at home depot doesn't contain killer termites. There are several, SEVERAL sites out there that do nothing but dispell these stupid urban legends. In the time you added names in the "to" of your email forward, you could have run a simple google search for the subject line of that email and found out it's a farse and been done with it. Please. Begging you.

Covered in vomit...no, it's not mine...no, I'm not partying today...

I'm babysitting. For my niece and nephew. The other niece had to go to Chicago to have surgery, so I volunteered to watch the other youngins. The benefit? DSL so I can check in at work, not pull my hair out, and blog for you all. I know you're thrilled.

I've never been so happy in my whole life that I have boys. These games...the pet shop game and the princess game and I have to wear a tiara? WHAT? And Rylee is LOVING it because her big sister is gone so SHE can be the caterpillar in the pet shop game and I have to be something else. "Morgan always gets to be the caterpillar" she says to me her eyes wide. Yes, dear...YOU can be the caterpillar today. I am caterpillar and fluffer-nuttering my way into coolest aunt status. YES! *insert fist pump here*

This is the niece that I should have had if I had girls. She loves to chit-chat, she LOVES food. Her first comment to me after breakfast was: "Mommy left my car seat" Yes, she did, I told her. Then she says..."that means we should go to a restaurant for lunch." I love a girl who plans ahead to lunch right.after.breakfast. I mean seriously...could she be any more like me? Someday she'll be a rockstar and have her own blog and I'll get a little weepy every time she posts. *sniff* And she loves to talk on the phone. If Ka-ka wouldn't kill me, we'd call him every five minutes.

This is kid week for me...last night was cub scout roundup. It went pretty well, given the weather ... we'll have to do a secondary roundup next week to haul in more peeps. Today is Rylee and Blake day - he's a fabulous baby...cooing and gooing...but then there's the puking. This kid spits up more reliably than Old Faithful. And it's messier, too. And stinkier. In fact, I think I have some formula spit up on my shirt right now that is making me a little nauseous. But he's still a great baby..eating...sleeping...eating...sleeping. Doing everything little babies should do. Rylee is entertaining him in the next room while I type to you. I think she's gotten boring, though, because the screams of joy are starting to sound more like crying. Guess I'm back on duty.

There's a reason I didn't have more babies folks...this formula smell? Gah.

Friday hopefully will be Hayden slumber party day...hooray!
But Thursday - Thursday is all about ME...it's my first night of bowling, baybee! No I don't have my own ball yet. No I don't have my own shoes yet. Haven't you been reading about how BUSY I've been lately? Cut me some slack people. Geez. For the love.

Here's to good friends...tonight is kinda special...

the beer we'll pour...well...it simply must keep coming. The beer store called...they said the ya-ya's and their men drank all the beer on Thursday and Friday. That is good times, right there, I don't care who ya'are.It was so wonderful so see Suzi, our long distance ya-ya and meet Brad, her beau. He totally fit. I mean, it was like he graduated with us...he got it. YAY! This bodes well for future ya-ya excursions with spouses. We started at Wagner's for dinner. mmmmmm...ribs. And after dinner we ended up at Smitty's in Porter...and it was karaoke night. Yeah, baby. Brad was completely up for the challenge...which, of course, wins him a special place in my heart. Eventually we called the Jimmer into action.

My favorite part of Smitty's- right outside the door of the girls' bathroom - there's a sign...it says "To the bar ---------->". Okay...ummmm, you're kidding me right? How wasted do you have to be in small town joint to not be able to find your way back to the bar. I mean, you look to the left, doors to the kitchen. You look to your right...and literally 10 feet away...the BAR. Thank heaven they put that sign there, I NEVER would have found my way back.

Also, loads of entertainment - a chalkboard in the bathroom. These guys at the end of the bar couldn't get over the 3 of us running into the bathroom with our cameras...I guess in hindsight that must look pretty strange. But then again...it's us...and we usually are strange.

I have so much more to say about this night...Jimmer kissing Suzi...and Brad...it was completely healthy. And hilarious. And I have pictures. OH! and somewhere in there I flashed Sheryl's husband, Ray. Also completely healthy. And hilarious...no pictures. I was trying to help him get rid of the image of this "buxom" girl wearing low-riders who bent over -- he got an eyeful of ass-crack. He was in PAIN people and I rushed to his aid. All he got was additional cleavage...it's not like I gave him the full monty. For cripe's sake -- simmer down - I was just trying to give him a better image in his head. She didn't have a muffin-top - I think she ate the muffin man. I'm unclear. It was awful.

In completely different news...you all know that I've been battling my school board with several other militant moms to try and get smaller classroom sizes for our kids. The principal called this morning, and let me tell ya - at 9am, when the phone rings, and your automated attendant says "You have a call from {insert name of principal here}" - your heart sinks just a little. Okay, a lot...first words she says to me..."Everything is just fine with Owen" PHEW! She proceeds to tell me that they are adding a second grade teacher to our roster, a voluntary move from one of the other elementary schools, giving us another section of kindergarten and 2 full time aides to help with the large classes in grades 3-5. Seriously, I almost wept. It's like Christmas people...CHRISTMAS. No one knows why this happened or how. As of last Monday's school board meeting nothing had changed. Who knows...it's beautiful thing.

Come young Skywalker, come to the dark side...

Bwah-ha-ha-ha!

Amongst the many crazy goofy things I've committed myself to, I sit on the board for the Northwest Indiana chapter of Thrivent Financial for Lutherans. We give out money to people. It doesn't require a lot of my time, and it gives me those warm fuzzies to counteract the laundry list of reasons I'll probably end up in hell. And there's a big Christmas dinner at the end of the year at a great restaurant in Kentland. Yeah, Kentland. Okay, so maybe this is kind of why I may end up in hell. I'm really doing it for charity reasons...I swear...it's not the food...yeah...okay....I don't even believe me.

I sit on this board with a bunch of 90-year-old men. During my "interview" with the former president of the board, he wanted to make sure I knew how to use "those computers" and access "the internet." Do you know how to use the internet, he asked....ummmmm, yeah...I think I got that one covered. I told him I worked in systems administration so I would be fine. Yeah, okay, he said, but do you know how to use the internet? Seriously.Killing.me. I am the records director, which is just a fancy way of saying I'm the secretary. One of these men is particularly curmudgeonly. I mean he's one of those opinionated old-timers with a booming voice and can be very intimidating. VERY intimidating. He reminds me of my high school calculus teacher - you guys remember Bob Waskom, right? "uuuuummmmmm, Beggggy...do you haaaaave a brown calculus book?" That sharp tone, that southern drawl...refusing to call me anything but "Beggy" because I don't think he was capable of formulating a hard c sound. Anyway...his name is Guy. And he's quite the character. We were discussing the upcoming "election" for the board (no one cares about us and believe it or not, we have a hard time doling out the almost $10,000 our chapter is given by Thrivent every year) and he was saying something about sending a letter to the churches about the "ballots" they need to put out so they can hold an election in September. He was saying he wanted the letter to include some language about "thanks to all of the efforts of the congregations, we have filled all of the board positions...blah...blah...blah" - which is a load of hooey and we all know it...we fill the positions by begging anyone who will do it. The congregations don't do crap for us. So I say "I guess it's good that you can't pick up sarcasm in the meeeting minutes" and I laugh. Guy at first looks at me in shock and then...wait for it...laughs at me. "Oh there was no sarcasm there..." he says. Uh-huh - he LAUGHED people. I totally broke him! This curmudgeony old goat laughed. So now I have two reasons to sit on the board....ONE - buying my way into whatever good place comes after this - because I'll be damned if my spirit, or my energy or my soul or whatever is left after this hunk of muscle and tissue turns to worm food is forced into an eternity of wearing bad shoes, drinking Boone's Farm and listening to K-Fed CD's. If there's a hell, that's it. Just put my sister there with me and it seals the torment. TWO - to remove the corn-cob from this old-timers ass. He really is a nice guy who cares about people, but he's so.hard.to.deal.with. I have a project. I think he thinks I come from a different planet sometimes. Can you see me sitting in this room with the seniors trying to hammer out plans? Sweet Jesus - talk about wanting to light yourself on fire.

Tonight: Dinner at Wagner's...mmmmmmm ribs......
Tomorrow: Birthday party for my niece.
Sunday: Opening day for football, baybee! IF Owen gets to play. He missed the official weigh-in because we were on vacation, and the next one isn't until Monday. His coach was going to call the other coach and see if they would let him play since he's not even close to being over the weight limit for his league. If he does play, he's playing tight end, some linebacker position, and he's one of two quarterbacks. Should be an interesting year.

That's what friends are for...

So I got into this very strange discussion with a person here at my office...he doesn't understand how people who work together become friends outside of the office. It's a totally foreign concept to him. But he doesn't really have friends outside of the office that he doesn't work with, either. He's just not that way. I mean, he has some, but not a lot.

This has launched a two-day discussion on friends, and how many I have, and how I communicate with them and how I met them and blah, blah, blah. I mean really in depth. He has decided I have met my 'friend quota.' I told him I haven't even gotten started yet. He simply cannot believe I went on my honeymoon and came back with new friends, who actually came to my house for the weekend. It was fun - I really like them. He can't believe that Julie has made "train friends." I told him I have daily friends, you know, the core group that I must talk to every day...see Julie over there waving...yeah, that's the core group. And then there are weekly friends, the friends I check in with at least once a week if not more. There are monthly friends and quarterly friends...I've talked about this before. Once I find someone I like, I don't like to let go. Maybe I'm sick. It is what it is.

I've been told before that I'm very good at keeping up with my friends, which I think is a good thing. This work person doesn't understand how I have time for anything else. I reminded him that I spend a shitload of time in my car, and therefore have a lot of time for catching up on the phone.

Anyway - this two day conversation about friendship and what constitutes a friendship has me wondering...is it because I'm overly co-dependent that I have and keep this many friends? Most people would say "Oh that Rebecca - she's got so many friends and isn't she fun!" But is it really fun? Or am I just masking my own inadequacies by surrounding myself with people all of the time. "Here - focus on THEM - don't focus on ME and how screwed up I am!" Am I so good about staying in touch because I can't stand the silence or am I truly a dedicated friend? AM I JUST A TOTAL WHACK JOB??

Well, sure...we all know the answer to that. But I've been told several times by several people that they would never have kept in contact with me unless I had kept in contact with them. Is that just a nice way of saying "You didn't really matter that much to me but you hounded me and now here I am at dinner/coffee/birthday party." Am I like a pesky fly that won't go away? That mosquito doing fly-bys on you while you sleep, and you keep swatting and ignoring and it just keeps coming back to suck your blood??? Is that me? Am I like a friend stalker? Or are they truly happy I kept in touch because they're just bad about it. My girlfriend Laura says that all of the time.

I jokingly likened myself to a tick - you have to coat me in nailpolish and suffocate my ass to get rid of me. Or burn me with a match until I pull my head out.

Hmmmmm....
I don't know.
What kind of friend are you? How many people would you consider "in your core group?" Have I truly met my friend quota??

Mental note: wear matching shoes...

There is a picture coming, I promise. But right now, in Chicago, Julie is wearing two different shoes. Yeah, that's right, two.different.shoes. And not like two different style black shoes...two different sneakers, gym shoes, whatever you want to call them. And they're kind of different colors.

HILARIOUS.

I mean, who am I to judge, I forget my purse or my phone or my kids on a regular basis. But seriously, two different shoes. I love it.

I have actually been pretty on top of my game. Proper notes to the teachers, school supplies purchased, homework checked. I am on it, babies! Of course it's only the third day of school for Owen and the first day for Alex, but I am soooooo together. Do not burst my bubble and tell me how it's all going to fall apart. I'm well aware of this. By next week I'll be in fetal position behind my couch rocking back and forth babbling about backpacks and cheese whiz. But now...now I'm BRILLIANT.

WINE TASTING...LOVED it! There were some really great new selections, and I ordered WAAAAAAY too much, but the holidays will be here before you know it and I can give some as gifts.

Today is a free day for me, people...FREE DAY...which means I have nothing planned tonight. Whoo-hoo!!! Well, nothing except for cooking dinner, folding laundry, returning scout phone calls...but nothing that involves leaving the house.

And even though most of you don't know her...HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINDA!!! That's Luke's mom to some of you. ;) She's a part-time lurker here on the blog - but she's suffering from slow-dial-up syndrome and can't check in always...

O Canada!

Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

I LOVE the Falls! I love it like I would marry it! What a great weekend, and lemme tell ya - you couldn't spend much more time there than that because you would go completely broke. WAAAAAAAAAY too much money spent in a short period of time, loveys. And I didn't even do ONE of the wine tours. Not ONE!!! Damn family-oriented bullshit, that's what it was. I mean, I love it! I love it like I would marry it.

Considering it started with me in a van with my sister and her boyfriend whom I've never met for 8 hours, I think it all went pretty well. Kev-head and I decided that if Jen & Charles break up, we're keeping Charles. First - he emptied the hotel mini-bar into his backpack to take on the road for the "day of touristy stuff." A stroke of GENIUS when we're waiting for the People Mover that he whips out some cans of cranberry and OJ and all the little bottles of vodka and rum and we're now having cocktails waiting for the bus. BRILLIANT. And he finds my sister's stupid quirky bullshit just as annoying as we do! BRILLIANT! And he's got a sense of humor like Kevin's, which is sometimes not so brilliant...
but hey, I never said he was perfect. He is, after all, dating my sister. Which for the life of me I can't figure out. He seems normal enough. He must have a crazy flag he's just not flying all of the time, and he managed to keep it in his suitcase for the weekend.

We saw the falls, we ate food, we played in the arcade, went on the big ferris wheel, walked the Ripley's museum, swam in the hotel pool, drank in the hotel bar, did all the major tourist shit that costs one million dollars (crowd favorite - Maid of the Mist - it's a blast!). It rained on Saturday and no one cared because we were soaking.frigging.wet. all day anyway. I think I lost weight from being wrapped in yellow and blue plastic ponchos for so long.

Aaaaaaaaand, I WON in the casino! That NEVER happens to me!!! I think I was playing roulette - but the table didn't have black and red on it. The wheel did. Anyway, I gave the lady $20, she gave me a bunch of chips. I disbursed them onto a bunch of numbers, and then was politely told that there's a $15 minimum on the table. Whoops. Friggin' rookie. So I just started throwing chips everywhere and I won $70. Hooray! Boooo losing in the poker machines, hooray #19. That is now, officially, my new favorite number. I totally paid for my Coach bag that my sister had sent to me that my husband didn't know about, even though I was carrying it all over Canada...gotta love him.

The one-liners are too many to list...I should have kept a handy-dandy notebook.
Tonight: Wine tasting at Impressions Cafe - I'm taking my girlfriend Linda for her birthday.
It's a busy week folks, including wine tasting, football practice, knife skills class (for cooking! Hooray!), church board meetings, dinner with Suzi and her boyfriend, niece's birthday party and opening day for football on Sunday, kids. Yowzers!

You say it's your birthday....

So YESTERDAY the Jimmer actually hit the big 3-0...hurray!

And today - today the Kev-head turns 41. Happy Birthday Kev-head!!

We're running for the border tonight, kids - so no blog tomorrow. I miss you all already.

Have a great weekend!

Boo party being over, hurray beer!

OMG - So, the Jimmer's surprise 30th birthday happened this weekend - and let me just pat all my little bloggers and lurkers on the back for not giving it away. I know there were SEVERAL times when I almost said - "see you on Saturday" or "hope you can come out on Saturday" or "hey I'm burning CD's for Jimmer's party, what do you guys think of these songs" ...you know, subtle stuff like that. UGH. It was HARD not to talk about it here, wasn't it???

So glad that's over! Keeping quiet is not exactly my strong suit.

I think the Jimmer was actually surprised, or he was so drunk from his golf outing that he forgot, one of the two. There were several highlights from the day:

1. Chris yelling at Mike "Mike, Jimmy's here...Jimmy!" and Mike waving Chris over and saying 'Go fuck yourself'. Out of context this doesn't sound nice - in context, completely hilarious.

2. Doug marching out with the American flag wearing a referree shirt- I don't know who goosesteps with the American flag in their hand, but apparently Doug does.

3. The fireworks almost burning down the neighborhood - seeing Rich and his friend run like hell as the rogue firework is blowing up around their feet...I didn't know they could run that fast!

4. Jimmer saying Boooooo to whatever....Hurray beer!

5. Doug invented a new word - ambisextrous. It's the ability to pleasure oneself with either hand. Excellent.

6. Tiffany wearing a Liberty Rec Mariners jersey that I think Jimmer wore when he was in the 7th grade.

7. Watching Tigger "play volleyball" - HA! She was hilarious!!

That's all I got for now...the food was great and we had plenty of it. We had great weather - a great bonfire...I think Jimmer was pretty happy with all of it. What are your fun stories from the party? My brain is fried...

*Please notice the new link on the left. Our best blog friend forever (BBFF) Eileen is officially a celebrity having had her blog coverage of the Kenny Loggins concert published on the News-Review website!! Check it out!


And just when you thought I couldn't get any more insane - please refer to the other new link on the left - stuffonmycat.com - this is a pic of a member of the orange helmet army. Be sure to check out the entire section called "Food on my cat" - some of this is really good stuff.

Facelift ...

So I was thinking about changing my blog template...

How are you all feeling about this? I thought it might make the entries a little wider and a little shorter - better to see you with, my dear.

Anyway - I'm in pain, but I get to go eat fair food for lunch. You should all know by now how much I love my food from a booth. :) Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? We were going to take the kids to the Lake County Fair on Saturday, but now Alex is going to be gone, so I don't think we will. Unless we go and let him take a friend...there's a thought! He would love that.

The summer is almost gone!

If you love me, just shoot me...

Really...help a sister out...

So Coach Kevin is all loving his new football coaching position...and here's why:

The bane of my existence...the reason my husband must die. I love him, but if he continues to blow that stupid, friggin' whistle all around the house calling "illegal plays" or telling me to drop and give him 10 for talking - I'm going to wrap that cord around his neck and shove that whistle down his throat.

A bit violent?
Hmmmm...thought so...sorry.

The other night I was on the phone with my girlfriend and we were screaming and yelling about the school board meeting (because they're jackasses and our elementary school is once again on academic watch, partially due to our oversized classrooms - ugh) - and Kevin is, and I'm not even making this up, at the top of the stairs, in his underwear, blowing his coach's whistle and calling "illegal motion" on the school board, laughing hysterically. He says it's the single greatest thing he's ever been given as a coach. I'm secretly plotting to bury it in the yard.

Last night he said it was a good practice, "I got to blow my whistle a lot." I asked Owen if Dad was "gratuitously blowing his whistle" and he said "what does that mean??" and I said "Is he blowing it just to blow it?" and after careful consideration, said "Yeah, sometimes I think so."

Brilliant.

All I know is, the day he wakes me up with that damn thing is the day it's all over people. Save up bail money for me and prepare your character witness statements. Because that man is going down.

Two hours of my life I'm never getting back...

I don't mean to sound like I'm bitching about the way my school system handles things...

BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA...who are we kidding?? I'm ALWAYS bitching about the way my school system handles things.

So here's one more for the road.

Today was school registration, yo...from 1-6 today, 8-11 and 12-2 tomorrow. A lot of convenient hours for working parents, eh? Not to mention that if you wait until after work, you're there until at LEAST 9pm. AT LEAST. So I decided to go on my lunch "hour". Ahem.

Let's be very clear. If I'm going to take a 3 hour lunch, it should involve me, Julie, Tigger, Pea and some adult beverages. NOT me and every white trash, wife-beater tank wearin', no showerin', no job havin' redneck with loud, dirty, disrespectful little piss-ants for children and no teeth (or even worse, really, really bad bleach jobs, ewwwwwww). But no. It wasn't to be. I got there at 12:45 thinking I'd be one of the first in line. Apparently everyone had this thought, because there were about 40 "people" in front of me. And I use that term loosely. I left my job at 12:15, I came back at almost 3:15. No, we're not new students. No, none of our information changed. This is seriously how.long.it.takes. I wanted to light myself on fire in protest, but I'm wearing great shoes today.

This one woman (and I use THAT term VERY loosely) couldn't a) control her children and b) stop running her mouth about how her husband is in the emergency room. Ummmm, you're kidding me, right - your husband is in the ER and you're standing in line to pay for book rental?? What is wrong with you? First - tell your kids to stop screaming, running in circles and beating the crap out of each other while singing "you can't catch me" at the top of their lungs. Second - talk to the principal - you don't have to pay book rental until November. WALK OUT THE DOOR. Please. Because your kids are making me want to start cutting myself to forget the pain of it all.

Too dramatic?
Hmmm. thought so. But it was baaaaaaad folks. Bad.

So Owen is registered for the 4th grade. Hell, Alex was registered last year. Whatever.
I *heart* school.

You put your head in, you put your head out

you put your head in aaaaaaand...

we strap it down to a board with foam pinscher-like things that come up around your neck. And then we tighten those, so that when we apply the pounds to the thingy, it literally pulls up on the pinscher things and pulls your skull upwards away from your neck/shoulders. Ummm, yeah...this, boys and girls is what we call traction. Can you say traction?

And immediately super-psycho PT lady looks at the order and says - "huh, he ordered up to 10 pounds. You can barely feel 10 pounds. We'll start you at 15."

WHAT? ummmm, okay? Because that ortho doc is clearly CRAZY.

I took my NSAID (doesn't this sound important?) this morning, and some ibuprofen this afternoon. So far I don't feel horrible after my 'treatment' this morning. I guess that's what they're calling it at the S&M PT school now.

I guess I should be grateful. Some traction devices can look like this:

Doesn't THAT look pleasant??? So given the two alternatives, I'll stick with what I have. Soon they'll have me hooked up to that device that almost-killed the man in black on the Princess Bride.

And ready or not, folks, it's football season. Owen is happy to be playing, so happy, in fact that Kevin had to tell him to quit smiling during tackling practice. Kevin is COACHING - even when he SWORE that he wouldn't, because Owen needs an activity where we're not uber-involved. And because he doesn't know anything about football. Just ask him. But the guys that are coaching Owen's team like Kevin and think he's great with the kids, so he's in. Even though he doesn't know anything about football. This oughta be fun.


Alex might be playing some team sports with his school this year, so hopefully I'll have some fun pics to add of him. If not, I'll sneak into his guitar and drum lessons and try and get some candids. He's taller than my mom now, will be taller than his dad soon. And still has chicken legs like my dad. :)

You're f*(*#&# kidding me, right?

Every now and again, there are things that make you go hmmmmmm...

And then there are those that make you go "You have GOT to be fucking KIDDING me!

Hmmmmm is when Lance Bass is gay.
YHGTBFKM is when the wax museum feels the need to make a wax look alike of baby Shiloh.

Hmmmm is when I pay $41 a piece for bras. Hey, they're worth it!
YHGTBFKM is when they announce this morning that BP is closing some oil thingy in Alaska and our gas could go up over $4/gallon. Don't these assholes know how much I drive in a week? And now we have FOOTBALL to contend with. Bastards.

Hmmmm is Jimmer asking about gas
YHGTBFKM is Julie talking about intermittent releases in the Kohl's - and her hubby busting her out on it...HILARIOUS.

Hmmmm is me installing 8 disks of a recovery set for a friend's computer and having the install fail.
YHGTBFKM is talking to Comcrap and having them say that it must be a fault in the disks, even though the install is prompting me for a "supplemental disk" that I do not have. So they send me ANOTHER set of 8 disks, and the same.damn.thing.happens. So I have to call again and now they say they'll send me the supplemental disk. That I asked for in the first place. Bastards.

Hmmmm is almost getting blindsided by one of the grandma's pulling out of the retirement apartments back here by my building.
YHGTBFKM is almost getting into a 3 car pile up because this other granny couldn't decide if she was going to turn or go straight. So she just STOPPED. Bastards!

Hmmmm is me leaving my purse at home. Again.
YHGTBFKM is realizing my office keys are in there, too. Damnit!

What's your YHGTBFKM moment?

Dear Ann Landers...

Or Dear Abby...
Or Dear Ramblers....

Take your pick, either way, I have had a plea from one of our avid readers for a post about the high price of gas.

Not gasoline, mind you. GAS. As in bodily functions. As in the SBD, Panty Burps, Trouser Coughs, Anal Audio...you all get the picture. It can cost you a lot, if you're dating someone new. So from this blogger, who shall remain nameless...I bring you this email excerpt...

First and foremost, everyone knows that men have more gas than women. Check that, everyone knows that men do not treat their gas the same way women do. Quantity is not an issue here. You women have the ability to pass gas without a sole hearing it. I mean, the hearing test lady can’t even hear it with all of her equipment. But I digress. My question is, does a woman with whom you are in the beginning stages of a relationship (one month) expect us men not to let a single squeak out for “x” number of days since the inception of the relationship, or am I making more out of this than I should. To be clear, I’m not talking about the basketball court clearing, eye watering, dog running off kind of fart. I’m talking about your average fart that may have a slight stink but doesn’t last very long and usually has a bigger bark (if you will) than bite. I am not talking about farts that I would plant on my brothers’, sisters’, nephews’, nieces’, friends’ or even a few coworkers’ heads that could potentially cause blindness and loss of taste for a week. Furthermore, I’m not talking about beer farts or something that may sound wet. These little buddies are in a class all by themselves… (I guess I’m a connoisseur.)

So I'm asking you - the men and women of my blogosphere to weigh in on the dating/farting allowance period.

Auntie Em, Auntie Em, it's a twister, it's a twister!

What do you make of this?
Well, I can make a hat, or I can make a broach, or I can make a pterodactyl...

And yet another movie surfaces that should be on the must-see list. But I digress...

I seriously thought something baaaaaad was happening at 3:30 this morning. There I am, minding my own business, but doing something I shouldn't be doing. Sleeping in my contacts. (What were you thinking?) I was tired...it happens...father forgive me! But no! I was also sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. The Kev-head and I do this occasionally...change things up...we're craaaaazy! So anyway, at 3:30...BOOM! CRASH! BOOM! Breaking glass! Me screaming! And jumping on Kevin! And not in that good way he might actually like at 3:30 am. In a bad way that says "I'm about to piss myself!" And he's screaming what? WHAT? And I scream "You didn't hear that?! There's breaking glass over there! Did the window just shatter?!" And he says "I have earplugs in" And the wind is howling and the lightning is crashing, and the power is out - BRILLIANT - so we're racing around trying to figure out what glass is breaking and I'm wondering if a damn tornado is coming and we can't find any god &*#! freaking matches to light the candles!

Alas, the boom-crash knocked a picture of my boys off a shelf which came crashing down on the bedside table, shattering the glass. The windows are fine. We still didn't have power until almost 7am - yes, I look AWESOME today, thanks - but all is well. Except for that picture frame. Which is, of course, broken.

Julie got drenched on her way to work and is pissing and moaning about how long it takes denim to dry. Ummmmm, yeah, the chaffing is wonderful! Poor Julie! She was thinking about going to Fields and picking up some new pants...I fully support this. Tina! Get some new pants!

Doctor update...
"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do"
The short story is that he told me I have inflammation. Seriously? Really doc? Inflammation. NO SHIT? So it's back to the sado-masochistic torture lair, oka, physical therapy...this time with traction. I have no idea what this means, but it can't be good. So you all should be THRILLED because this means many more moments of pain and hilarity for the blog...because it really is all.about.YOU. And another MRI - because really...can you have too much magnetic imaging? The more time I get to spend in those crisp hospital gowns the better, folks! And last but not least, a new anti-inflammatory...because I'm inflamed, people! What's even BETTER is the actual diagnosis on these orders...because you can't order shit without a diagnosis, right?

I have...wait for it...RADICULITIS. Yes, that's right...basically my doctor is now telling me I'm ridiculous, which again...already knew. FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

What it actually means is: Inflammation of the intradural portion of a spinal nerve root prior to its entrance into the intervertebral foramen.

I hope that's clear for everyone. uhhhhhhhh.....yeah.

Gel's pizza was rockin' good and the Janet also picked up some garlic knotz from the Greek's which is just heaven in bread form with garlic butter. mmmmmmm, garlic butter.

More later, loveys...

I love it when ya call me Big Poppa...

It's the Harry's birthday today! Hurrah! Happy Birthday, Dad - not that he reads this blog...but at least I know I put it out there in the blogosphere. We're going over there for Gel's pizza after work. It's one of my favoritest pizzas ever. With a nice big salad and some breadsticks...I'll be looking forward to this all day. mmmmmmmm pizza...

So raise a glass, a cup of coffee, a breakfast shake or an egg mcmuffin in the general direction of Jackson Twp. this morning and wish my dad a happy birthday. Between my sister and I, we should have put him into massive coronary by now, but he's still kickin', still has his own hair and none of it's gray, despite the opinions of people back east who insist he's wearing a rug.

Doctor for me today - I'm underwhelmed. I would like to think I'm going to go there and he's going to look at all these films and say "Mrs. Crum...my heavens...you clearly have a distorted schmokken-flokken...we need to do x, y and z right away and you will never have shoulder pain again."

HA! Yeah right.

I'm already prepped for him to see nothing, know nothing and provide me no answers or solutions. I guess I just have to hope that whatever pharmaceutical rep brought him donuts this morning also brought some samples of some miracle drug. Wouldn't that be nice?

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

No, that's not a headline about the Jimmer's love-life...it's the name of a movie, sillies. Haven't heard of it? Yeah, neither had I. Bumptious blogged about it awhile back, and then the lovely Laura recommended it, so I decided I should give it a try. I LOVED this film! Val Kilmer and Robert Downey, Jr. and some girl who I called a poor man's Ellen Pompeo, but Kev-head insists this girl was MUCH better looking. I didn't see it. I think this is the first film I've really loved RDjr in since "Chances Are" and a quick lookup on imdb tells me that was from '89, kids. And he sings the song as the credits roll, which I also loved but the Kev-head replied "anyone can sing with the right amount of production" and proceeded to try and serenade me. But he had no producer and the raw format was not pretty. I love my man, but singing is not one of his attributes. It's one of the reasons I dated him in the first place. I think we're all aware of my sordid past with musicians - ahem...not pretty. Sooooo, I married a man who couldn't carry a tune if I put a handle on it and away we go.

I'm adding this film to my "must see" list...it was that good. I want to buy it and watch it over and over again to pick up the one-liners...there were quite a few. Even Kev-head belly laughed a couple of times.

So what else is on my must see list? In no particular order...
1. Ferris
2. The Negotiator
3. The Usual Suspects
4. Reservoir Dogs
5. Clerks (my aunt and uncle watched this on my recommendation and hated it, but oh well, I still LOVE it)
5a. Change number 5 to all Kevin Smith films including Chasing Amy, Mall Rats, etc. The man is a genius.
6. The Sting (I LOVE Robert Redford, what can I say?)
7. Stealing Home
8. Practical Magic
9. Blazing Saddles
10. The Shining
11. Fight Club
12. Animal House
13. Stripes
14. Caddyshack
15. The Commitments
16. The Full Monty
17. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
18. Almost Famous
19. 40 year old Virgin
20. The Shawshank Redemption

I am quite certain there are more. What are your "must-sees"? Movies that when people say they haven't seen it you actually do a double-take.

What in the *&^$@! am I doing wrong???

So this weekend was a series of ups and downs.

First - Owen's team won their game on Friday night - it was beautiful. Couldn't believe it. They looked awesome doing it which was the best part. Great fielding, great pitching (Owen didn't pitch, he played first). We were all so proud.

But then Saturday game. Any of you sit out in the heat at noon watching a baseball game? No? I didn't think so...ya wanna know why? Because it's ASININE, that's why. They didn't lose horribly - it was 8-2. Owen pitched the last half, but by that time he was baked. And not in that good, college "dude you are soooooo baaaaaaked" kind of way. It was that "dude you are playing baseball in polyester pants and dark blue t-shirt in 110 degrees" kind of way that makes your brain fry. Literally.

We had a two hour break between games, Owen cooled off, seemed much better and off to game two. He sat in the shade, kept drinking fluids...really took it easy pre-game. But then, it all went badly. Pitched 9 runs in the 1st inning...ouch...and hit a single in the top of the 2nd. When he came off the field he was bawling and holding his head. We cooled him down but it wasn't enough. He couldn't go back into the heat without his head pounding. When the nausea set in we were off to the ER.

We started with him tossing his cookies in the reception area. Nice.
We ended with he and his friend Luke cutting it up in the ER. Between Luke and Owen and Kevin, we were cracking up. Yes, we're following up with our normal doc. And his allergist. Yes I'm a whack job for getting out my camera in the emergency room. Hey, it was all a part of the tournament experience.I did everything I was supposed to do. I subjected Shay to the same liquid regimen as Owen since he was staying with us. He ran off the field in the middle of the first game because he had to pee so bad. Didn't even stop at the dugout first...just ran straight to the bathroom. Whoops. Coach Kevin yelled at him until he realized I was the one that made him drink so much. Whoops again.

So now I have to find out if his allergy meds make him more susceptible to heat. Or if it's just him. And what I can do to make sure I don't have to worry about this again...because he kind of freaked me out when he said "my brain feels like it's not connected and rattling in my head."

Ummm, yeah, we're going to the ER.

*Blogger isn't letting me upload my photos right now. Keep checking back...they'll be here...

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...

No baseball last night in the downpour. Owen was well-rested and pumped up, too. So we have to play tonight instead. And this was my night OFF, people!

And if you think I'm crabby now, just wait until tomorrow after I sit there with frizzy hair, swoobs and a sunburn at high noon with 100% humidity on a 95 degree day. And we have a DOUBLEHEADER. Seriously. I love my kids but this is ridiculous. Maybe I'll have to put some sort of adult cocktail in a squeezy bottle like back in my college days.

Happy Friday!

Owen is a rockstar...

He was AWESOME last night. Struck out 10 batters...gave up 2 or 3 hits, walked a couple...finally ended up hitting a batter in the 4th inning. His arm had had enough. Comes off the field after the game POUTING...wanna know why? Because he struck out...twice. OMG - you're kidding me, right? You're going to be upset with your game because you didn't hit, even though going into the fourth inning there was no score and you had struck out 9 people??? I was a mess for those 4 innings. We lost to Lowell 4-0. The boys did awesome for their first game ever trying to hit off of a pitcher, their first game ever together as a team, their first game under the lights (game ended around 10pm)...We had the bases loaded at one point in the 5th, but we couldn't make it happen. I'm totally jacked to see what they do today.

Today he's with the Janet who is pumping him with fluids and taking him to the movies. Good ole' grandma.

Alex's ear is feeling better but his jaw still hurts. Weird, eh? I guess swimmer's ear can affect your lymph nodes, so that's probably what's happening. But he says he feels better which is good.

I have a follow-up appt with my ortho! Hurrah! And get this...THEY called ME! Mrs. Johnson or whatever-her-name-is called me to schedule my appt. But now that makes me worry...does she know something I don't? Did some radiologist see something evil on my MRI and now they NEED to see me? Did my bloodwork come back bad? Yeah, you're right, it's nothing...she just finally returned my 52 calls. So I go next Wednesday equipped with x-rays and MRI films (which are totally bad ass to look at, btw). With my medical degree from Google University I have already diagnosed myself, of course, as having severe decubitus degenerative degrading ecchymosis ectopic dystrophy.

Okay, so I know what all of that means...and that none of it really makes any sense. I really just looked up some fancy words in the medical dictionary and smushed them all together. I didn't get past the E's because it was exhausting. I think that makes me even MORE like a real doctor! They do that shit all the time!
"Ummm, yes, Mrs. Smith, your x-ray is showing a shmokken-flokken in the cortex of your such-and-such"
"Oh my gosh! doctor, is it serious???"
"Not if you fill this prescription of meds from the pharmaceutical company whose rep just dropped off a dozen donuts and four tickets to a skybox for the Sox home opener - you'll be FINE"

Friggin' seriously.

Gametime tonight 6pm.

The sisters and my shoulder seem fine in my fabulous new bra purchase, so maybe it was just coincidence? Who knows. We'll see how the rest of the day goes.

Giving it the old college try...

Unable to grasp the concept that I may have just spent $85 on two bras that are essentially torture devices, I'm trying again. Today I am wearing one of the new, fabulous potentially pain causing bras. Because, hey - I'm all about the research, man. Let's test the theory and see what happens tomorrow. I'm doing it all for you guys. Well, that and to further my studies into my Google medical degree. Because I have one you know. I can diagnose ANYONE in three clicks. I'm brilliant. BRILLIANT I say. Just look at the certificate on my wall. That's it...I'm getting a stethoscope and a lab coat so people will take me more seriouser.

In other news that doesn't involve my boobs - is anyone watching Rockstar?? Seriously, it's a trainwreck. I think Tommy Lee hired a writer for his one-liner comments...He's saying things like "You're raising the bar, and I'm pulling up a barstool"...that is craptastic right there, I don't care who ya'are.

Owen is playing on the Roselawn all-star team for a tournament in Cedar Lake. And get this. The boy is PITCHING, yo! I'm ready to go into cardiac arrest over this. There's so much pressure! To be the pitcher! When it's your first year! And you can tell how frantic I am by the number of exclamation points I'm using! I'm on FIRE over here with worry! One of the other moms promised to bring me a paper bag to breathe into. I wish I had a working video camera. I think I do. But I don't want to add to the pressure!

Jen suggested I slam a shot before the game. Yeah, um, THERE'S good advice. Because that's a pretty picture...me, screaming and cheering and reeking of tequila at the little league all-star tournament. YEAH baby! Exxcshuse me, Mr. ooooompire...i think that waszh a shtrike. Toss in a muscle relaxer and I'm SET! Game time tonight - 8pm. Tomorrow 6pm. Owen can pitch a max of 4 innings each game. That's a lot of balls, loveys!

Alex is down for the count in Anderson with swimmer's ear. Seriously down. Like sleeping 12 hours and taking tylenol with codeine to manage the pain. That's the same water that leveled our dear sweet Julia Goolia for an entire day of fabulous beach vacay. Gotta love Lake Michigan. And to think, we all just ate perch Kevin pulled out of that very lake just a week before. Maybe that's why I've been stricken with a lower GI thing. Lake Michigan is slowly killing us all. Damn e coli.

Think good thoughts for my boys - they could both use it.

Let's get down to boobness...

Seriously, I don't mean to keep harping on this, but the sisters are now officially a problem.

So I did go to the store and buy new bras. 34DD it is. Fine. I'm slowly coming to terms with it. It's worse than turning 30. THAT I knew was coming. It was inevitable. This? This is just ridiculous. I'm not sure what's going on with my hormones, but apparently I'm pumping enough estrogen to turn the whole middle east crisis into one big cry fest. Ya hear that, Condie? You don't need international troops, just let me ooze my hormones over there for awhile, everything will be just fine...just keep the wine and cheese flowing, me and the sisters will get that all worked out.

Here's the problem. Remember when I was seeing the pinko-fascist physical therapists who tortured me like a Hillary Rodham Clinton fundraiser speech? ("It's the American Dream, stupid." Is she SERIOUS? Shut up Hillary, you embarrass my party) Well, these new bras of mine? Same effect. Pain. Sure everything was sitting pretty and the sisters felt great about themselves (and looked good, too), but the end result was me in tears on my fabulous beach vacay unable to consume exorbitant amounts of alcohol and crying for my muscle relaxers (read "mommy's little helper.") It was bad. I was a mess. I couldn't figure out what I had done to cause myself so much pain all of a sudden. I was good - I didn't lift too much when we packed/unpacked. I didn't drive to Michigan. I wasn't on my computer. I wasn't doing anything I wasn't supposed to. And BAM! No feeling in my fingers on my left side. Just burning achy inflammation. It was the bras. Two days of wearing them and I was a disaster. Julie performed some drunken voodoo stuff later in the evening when I wasn't so cinched up. Yeah, that's right. Me on the floor and Julie twisting and pulling and it was hilarious because I was laying on a rug on a hardwood floor and the rug kept moving and we kept laughing...She was amazed and concerned at my inflammation. I share this concern. I'm still trying to get in with my ortho which more and more I realize will probably be a big gigantic waste of my time.

So how do we feel about acupuncture, kids? Because I think that's where I'm going next. Michelle suggested a sports medicine doctor. Anyone know one? No, no one has mentioned a reduction in the sisters. No one has mentioned the amount of time I drive or spend in front of a computer. No one has mentioned anything that could potentially be an irritant for me to avoid (besides my husband...as the irritant that is, and HE'S the only one mentioning THAT). So essentially lifting the sisters put some sort of pressure on my shoulder that wasn't good. What does THAT mean?

"Sometimes it's hard to be...a woman..."