Monday, January 30, 2012

Tramp Ball, The Rematch on Foot Fungus

Man. Getting smacked in the face with sweaty balls sure takes a lot out of a girl.


Tonight's theme seemed to be Face Plant Ball. At least this time, I wore shoes. That's right. No foot fungus for me! Let's do a play-by-play.


Here's me, jumping in place, scouting out the competition. Elle was on the other team, so naturally I gave her the snake eyes and told her I was watching her. She looked pretty intimidated while she punched one fist into the other hand and mouthed I will end you..  I moved on and made eye contact with a few others. There was the Spider Monkey Ex-Birthday Guy. Geez. Do not mess with that guy. I swear, at one point, I saw him climb the walls, grab a ball from mid-air and tag seven people with it. At once. The rest of their team was full of guys ten years younger than me and much, much faster, so of course I narrowed in on the only other girl on their team. I'd met her a few times before and she seemed really nice. I'm nice, too, so naturally every ball I threw was aimed straight at her face. I was totally not doing it on purpose! I'm a girl, I throw like a girl, I have no aim and I'm weak. With those statistics, any ball I threw should never have made it over to their side (three feet away). When I throw the ball, it usually lops up over my head and I end up tagging myself out. But tonight, well, those balls seemed to have her name on them. And I don't even know her name! I think I really started to piss her off. I'm not really sure if she was glaring at the guy next to me, or if those rabid dagger eyes were meant to bore holes into my soul. After one such instance, I tried to make us friends again by smiling at her and acting like I was having so much fun and wasn't SHE having so much fun and BTW it was SUCH a coincidence that I was heaving every throw directly at her, except I accidentally made it come across as Watch it, biyatch, I'm totally going to get you and from then on she tried to kill me.


I think it was around that point that I saw money exchange hands between her and this other guy and the next few seconds happened in slow motion.


I was in the front line of trampolines and just reaching for a ball when suddenly, there was a shadow crossing my face. It was coming from just above me head and to the left. I could see something out of my left eye and I turned my head to look and I had about a nanosecond before I had time to recognize what was happening.  Just as I registered that a giant ball was RightInFront of my face, I got slammed at about 90mph. I still maintain that I flew ten feet backwards and landed flat on my back, but apparently the ball just ricocheted off my head and I fell face first into the mat.


Worry not, good citizens. I'm trying to see if there was video so that y'all can see it. I know there was a photo because everyone started hollering and pointing to my face. Apparently it was beet-red, which isn't a big deal because after you jump around on a trampoline for an hour and a half, you're hot and sweaty already. 


I was pretty suspicious of my new enemy, but since I didn't see who threw the ball, I couldn't kill her right then and there. I'd have to use strategy.


The only problem is, I don't often use strategy when I can't execute it. I tried my dangdest to tag the chick, but that's when I started missing and eventually I just gave up.


On the way home, Elle and I shared a real defining moment in our Sistership.


Elle: Uhm, there's something stuck to my pants [nervous laugh]


Me: Let me get this straight. You just spent the last two hours handling sweaty balls and now you're telling me there's some kind of crap dried on your pants? 


Elle: Heh. Well, it's on my thigh, actually.


Of course it is.




Note: I left my camera at home (because I'm irresponsible) and Elle took all of tonight's photos and video on her phone, which now refuses to download. So. Tomorrow I will hold her hostage until she makes it work. Then, I will post evidence. See you then!

Monday Morning

Okay, guys and gals. Since I'm no longer a "paid blogger" because Google hijacked my earnings, I've started devoting a bit more time to things like feeding my kids, cleaning my kitchen and other responsibilities. This has left far less time to scour the internet for odd photos and I never seem to leave the house which really puts a damper on things to share with you.

I did find this, however.


As soon as I carve out more time, I'm going to make one of these for my cat. My sister's cat has finally learned to tolerate Petey, but before they become friends I'd like to see them duel it out.

Don't forget, tonight I'm going back for a rematch at Tramp Ball. See you here tomorrow with photographic evidence.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

How I spent my Saturday

Alright, enough of the easy-peasy photo-only posting, y'all.

(Elle also kind of busted my butt for the photo post, asking Why are all of those terrible photos of me?)


Uh, why did the chicken cross the road? Because it could.


Today we took two 3's, two 5's and a 9 to the mall. Yeah, I KNOW. Apparently, Elle and I are gluttons for punishment. Pile us up a huge plate of horror, Hal! (J/K, I don't even know anybody named Hal)

There's a movie screen set up down at one end of the mall that plays continuous movies all day long and instead of hauling five kids and ourselves to the theater across town that charges eight bucks a piece, we elected to bring Mohammad to the mountain (or the mountain to Mohammad or whatever).

The current movie is Mr. Poppers Penguins with Jim Carey. Have you people seen this movie? I wish I could say yes. Alas, I could neither hear it nor see it. Here's a bit of what was going on:








And a whole lot more, but it was near impossible to black out everyone's faces.

Uh huh. The volume for the film was turned down so low that nobody in the area could hear anything (although, even if it was blaring, I doubt anyone could hear it over our ill-behaved children) and there was so much light that the film wasn't really showing up on the screen. After forty-five minutes we finally gave up trying to get the kids interested and left the area in favor of the play space halfway down the mall. A bold move, since there were about eight hundred kids in a 20x30 foot area.

Bonus if you can find the smiley face hidden in this photo.


After the insanity, we took the kids home where they proceeded to throw multiple tantrums and basically melt down from a toddler inferno. It was so much fun that I'm thinking of hiring them out for parties.

Not a lot of funny stuff has happened because I've pretty much been housebound the last week. After last weekend in Seattle, I've been trying to get the house back in order, whip the children... into shape and basically try to recoup my life. You wouldn't think that a quick weekend getaway would wreck so much havoc, but it clearly does. 

In other news, on Monday Elle and I plan to try our hand(s) at trampoline dodge-ball again, so that should be fun. I plan on wearing shoes, stretchy pants and bringing it. You know, my butt-kicking skillz. Also, better footage of The Great and Powerful Blogz getting slammed in the face. Apparently it's his thing.

See you soon!

Friday, January 27, 2012

Photo Smattering

The more I look at this, the weirder Elle looks. 



We had Gurken Races over the fourth of July. Mine won. Well, Elle's technically won because she picked it up and threw it down the creek.



Elle on her way to church. You can almost see to the left me on the tractor behind her except that you can't.




Elle and I mastered a gigantic freeway bridge without stopping this past summer. It inadvertently killed her which kind of sucked.




Elle and I cleared out the back shed for our parents. Elle always thinks she's so strong, but that roll of wire sure showed her!

Our finished stall. We hand-made the horse dung (with MUD, people. Ew!) in order to create a real sense of accomplishment for our kids when we made them muck the stall.


Gary shopping at Wal Mart.


They ended a sale at Penny's early. I was displeased.



This beauty regimen totally works. It's a man-repellent. 




Elle on the '46 Chevy. She likes to dress up when we hit the country.




Catching some sun and waiting for raccoons so I can make another hat.



Elle was looking for reindeer poop. She collects it.



                                           This is kind of how we get from point A to point B.



Elle in her Halloween tu-tu. The pancakes just taste better this way.



Thanksgiving at our parents house. Charlie Brown had the Great Pumpkin. We had the Turkey Bandit.


This is when we burned a Mormon. Oh, relax. Our parents are Mormon so it's okay.
(Before anyone gets offended, I will tell you that the missionary burned his own clothing as part of a tradition. We just watched and took photos)


Me, wearing Gary's flight accessories. We dressed up as each other for Halloween; I worse his Flight Suit and he wore my Burger King uniform. You think I'd have that photo, but someone recently transferred all my photos to a drive that I can't access.


I totally thought about going as Mario, but my ten year old wouldn't let me borrow his costume.


Gary practicing his Santa landing. He almost got it right.


Well, I hope you enjoyed the sneak-peek into my life. I tell ya, it was the laziest post yet and I rather enjoyed it. I'll see you all back here tomorrow with something interesting to read. Get to work because I don't like to wait.

Toodles!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

You wanna run that by me again, Llama?

Huh.

At the risk of pissing off Google Adsense, I'd like to let everyone know that Adsense is holding my earnings from those ads hostage.

Some of you may not know that every time you click on an ad, I get a tiny payout. I was saving up to buy us all tickets to Justin Bieber, but they've suspended my account due to "invalid click activity."

I don't even know what the freak that is.

Too many clicks? Not enough? Someone in my freaking house clicked on an ad from my computer? I'm willing to bet it was Elle.

I'm taking it out of her piggy bank.

I've appealed and we'll see what happens.

I'll bet the entire thing was a set-up. Free money? It's the stuff of dreams.

Le Conclusion

Yesterday we left off with a few photos from the trip. (Golly, I hope I'm not boring y'all with my trip details. I mean, it's not like I dragged you here against your will, chained you to a dentist chair with laughing gas tubing and threatened to present a slide show of my son's first year, starting with photo 1 of 876. May I mention, my traffic feed is at an all-time high? Thanks Dudes and Dudettes!)

I'm really not sure what this thing is, but some maid out there has an undiscovered talent of folding towels.
 Elephant? Rabbit? We all worried that it would come alive in the night and eat half of our faces.



Gary was pretty upset that White Horse opened at 4pm. Apparently they have booze and books; two of his favorite things to be simultaneously enjoyed. Two things that he would not experience this day.


From left to right: Gary, Elle and myself at Kell's. We're in disguise. The internet can be a frightening place.


Gary and Elle perfecting their Super Hero Eye wear. 



Elle and myself. C'mon, agree with me. I had every right to punch that Drunkard in the face and steal his wallet, right? It's not unfathomable that we could be sisters.



 Gary, attempting to lift off with his rocket pack (Cause we're super heroes. Not cause beer makes him gassy)


A kid's clothing store with a Creepy Motherfreaking Doll Creature out front. Standing in a stroller. The next day we went by it again and someone had changed it's clothes. That, or it went out and stole some.


Breakfast payment at Bacco's. I think the waitress charged us a fee for laughing.


Leaving Pike's Place, we went in search of Troll Bridge. Elle forgot her Troll Spray and it tried to eat her. That's what you get for trying to pick his nose!


After we left the Troll Bridge, we tried to hit a few other places but apparently everything is closed on Monday in Seattle. Gary tried to kill us all with bad directions and I did my best to fulfill his attempt but we managed to come out alive.

I'm kind of enjoying this whole post-a-picture thing, so come back tomorrow for a collage of Things We Like to Do.

Teaser: It involves tractors, wedding dresses, manufactured horse dung, and more.

See you then!



Well, folks. I suppose that's it.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Part Deux of my Seattle Trek

Afternoon!


Today I'm all about improving character and righting wrongs. Instead of telling y'all all.. all of you.. you all... everyone what Round 2 of Seattle was like, I'm going to request that we spend a minute in prayer trying to save my soul.




.....


Oh, I'm kidding. Let's go!




Yesterday, I touched on the highlights (or how many times we all were nearly arrested) from Sunday's trip to Seattle


I awoke to the sound of Elle badgering Gary about where exactly the car was supposed to go.
I remember thinking In the street, shut up and go back to sleep, woman! It's the middle of the night. Do it in the morning! What time is it?! It's... 7:30am. Whatever. ZIP IT!  


Me: Make Mikr do it.


Elle: From five cities away and a two hour drive?


Me: .....


Gary: I can only hope he was trying to sleep since he had to get up at 4am.


Me: Shh. You're both dreaming.




Elle eventually moved the car (or it got towed or it evaporated because I don't remember anything else until I woke up at nine) and we all got up to trudge to Bacco, the best freaking breakfast shop I've ever experienced in Seattle. Maybe it's the only breakfast shop I've ever been to in Seattle, but it was delish! 


Sitting in the cafe, we filled Mumsie in on the night before, basically telling her that we found a nice church and fed some orphans. Elle, Gary and Mumsie opted for Mimosas, I opted for three cups of coffee and four glasses of water. About that time, we all made plans to flee our lives and move to the city. I let myself daydream and pictured myself walking leisurely through the streets, my hair flowing the the wind, cup of coffee in hand and peeking into the shops near Pike Place Market. Then, I remembered the three saplings I'd left at my parents house and the vision changed to a frazzled woman with dirty hair, coffee stains on her shirt, chasing children out of shops (shudder). I started to imagine Elle's life in the city, but it was so much worse than my own vision that I turned to my mother instead.


Mumsie: That about covers it. Now all we do is wait for him to die.


WTF did I just miss? Did my mom just plan murder?


Me: Ah... did you...uh-


Waitress: Help?


Me: WHAT?


Waitress: Milk. Do you want some?


I'm an accessory. I'm going to jail. Do they have mimosas there?


After breakfast we took a stroll down the hill to Pike Place Market. That's where they throw the fish when you order it. It's pretty famous and even when I lived in southern California I'd heard about it. I totally planned on buying fish to see them biff it and waste some carp. Never mind that we had a two hour drive and no way to store fish.


That was the plan, until I saw the price tag at $16.99/lb. Um, no thank you. I hung around waiting for some other fool to order some halibut. It was pretty cool, because when this chick stepped up to order fish, the guys behind the counter asked everyone waiting for photos to step in. I elbowed myself between a nun and a European couple and took a prime spot.




video




Uhm... that was totally LAME. Not at all what I was expecting. Did you hear the boys gearing up for a song? Totally cool until it reached the height of plbbbbbbt-lame-anticlimactic. 


We wandered out to the street vendors to check out fruit. My sister and I have always wanted to buy fruit from a street stand and eat it while walking around. Shut up. We have unfulfilled dreams from when we were seven. We also aim to walk down a city street with a paper grocery sack toppling over with vegetables and a loaf of french bread. We're cool like that.


Big Red (and I can say that because I'm a ginger, too) reeled us in at Fruit Stand Numero Uno (not the real name). We were checking out these massive Pink Lady apples and debating whether or not we could hit a seagull with one when Mr. Red showed up.


Biggie R: Hello, ladies. [eyeing my brother] And man.


Me&Elle: [shuffle, shifty eyes]


Biggie R: Know what you're looking for? Want me to tell you?


Whoa. Hold up. Did we just get propositioned? What kind of fruit stand is this? 


Biggie R actually let us sample apples and pears which were so mother-loving good I almost died. We told Biggie R to pack us each up an apple and a pear: four people, eight pieces of fruit. Fifteen dollars. That is nearly two dollars each. Good godzilla. Part of me wonders whether his scale was accurate since he ran off to the other side of the fruit stand and hid behind a wall before he came up with his total. Perhaps we should not have shared our desire to buy real fruit from a real fruit stand with the shop owner. 


And now, since we spent some time trolling the streets and acting normal for once and therefore have little funny-ha-ha material, I shall share a few photos.


Remember the night before and how I was all Lets text Gary's friend and have him move the car for us ? Elle and Gary's opinion of my antics.


Somehow I get the feeling I wasn't as funny as I thought I was.








Fish Market at Pike's Place.




Ugli Fruit. And it was butt-ugly.






Did I mention my family was related to the chick on The Ring? I haven't really asked permission to post their faces on the internet and since SOMEONE can't return a text, phone call, twitter message, email or a KNOCK ON THEIR DOOR, I have to wait. 
From the left: Mumsie, Gary and Elle




Stay tuned for the Third and Final Chapter.


Night! Because I started this post this afternoon and finished it riiiiight around 8:30pm. I'm in high demand people.


See ya tomorrow!


Okay, bye.











Tuesday, January 24, 2012

My vay-cay. Part I

First of all, let me just tell you how disappointed I was not to be greeted by a mob of adoring bloggers when I went to Seattle this weekend. I posted a link and everything, guys! I thought for sure I'd see you all out there wearing matching t-shirts with my face plastered on the front and at least one of you would have already acquired my transportation schedule, hotel room and itinerary. Amateur stalkers could have done more with less.

I offer bountiful forgiveness, though, because I had an amazing time in Seattle and I want to regale you with stories. Here's a couple things I plan on covering in this post three-part drama series:

  • David Garrett is H-OT. 
  • My Ex-Bartender, Adam, is on my hit list.
  • My brother is racist. And apparently an Air Force Sniper. (Not really. Except maybe.)
  • Fire escapes are fun.
  • I am an ugly 40-year-old man
My mumsie has a small (HUGE) obsession with German violinist David Garrett. Because not only is he smokin' hot, he's incredibly talented. David takes the classics and combines them with pop and rock to produce truly awesome pieces.



Uh, and you are welcome for those masks. Try getting THAT out of your head before bedtime, yo!

My brother, Gary (heh), being a generous soul and my mother's favorite, secured some tickets to the show this last weekend for myself, himself, Mumsie and Elle.

I somehow was elected to drive into the city (did I mention that my entire family is suicidal?) so that left Elle to take photos.






After I fired my sister and got to the hotel, we ran around like eejits checking out the cool cubbies and doors that don't go anywhere.

We stayed at the Moore Hotel. Have you ever been on a fire escape?  Apparently you can just slide that window up and crawl out there.


Have you ever had a bad case of vertigo and imagined yourself plummeting to your death from the 7th floor? Yeah. Me neither.



That night, we took a cab to the Paramount Theater. The show was amazing and we all loved it. Even Gary (Haheh) with his 6'5 frame stuffed into the tiny little seat. I wish I'd gotten a photo, but no flash photography was allowed.

Gary's more of a rock fan and not quite a convert to the Violin Rock but he was trying hard to enjoy himself. Gary remarked that David Garrett shared a pretty close resemblance to Kurt Cobain.









Gary: David Garrett kinda looks like Kurt Cobain.
Me: Huh. I don't really remember what Kurt looked like. I never cared much for him.
Gary: You could say, Was that before or after the shotgun blast?


[cue intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana]

Me: You're going to hell.
Gary: That was pure coincidence.

After the concert and dinner we managed to trudge our way through the 2nd Avenue vortex (seriously? Chicago has nothing on this windy part of the city) and dropped Mumsie off at the hotel. Then the three of us went off in search of the tiniest bar in Seattle: Bathtub Gin & Co.


It was a quiet, intimate little bar that literally housed about seven people. Seven assh*le people. Meet Adam, bartender extraordinaire. When you aren't a drinker (moi) and they don't carry your fall-back drink (parrot bay and cranberry) and you panic because you never drink, let alone know HOW to order a drink and cannot fathom what to do when everyone is LOOKING AT YOU, Adam will save you. And forsake you. More on that in a second. Let me set this up.

Gary and Elle love beer (gag!). Everything about it. I didn't even know beer could have a name other than Corona or Pabst. There's stuff like Guinness, Arrogant Bastard and Terminator. I like to tag along here and there and ride the tails of their worldly fun.

Adam made me a Pink Sparklie (no idea what the actual name was. It was pink, tasted like grapefruit, had vodka and cucumber slices) and secured his position as my own personal Bartender. I quickly envisioned a life where I would enjoy the occasional cocktail and Adam would always be the person to make it for me.

Adam was a bit busy dealing with a scrawny, prepubescent "Navy Seal" who was drunker 'n a skunk. I managed to convince the little liar to leave Adam a forty dollar tip and then the kid left. Probably was time to reel in the submarines and take off for Neverland.

Some poor fool in denial of his sexual orientation bought Elle a drink. I tell you, I have never, EVER eavesdropped on a more awkward conversation IN. MY. LIFE.

Drunk Doofus: Heeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Elle: [not as suave as she thinks] Heh. Hey. [twitch]
Drunk: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrh. Ho-bert.
Elle: Robert? Robby. Bobbert. Bobbit. What?

At this point, I was dying to knock him off his stool, but Gary told me to mind my own business, which I was, and leave them alone.

Eventually, I leaned way over to become part of the conversation and attempted to end it when Elle looked at me with wide eyes and whispered "end it. END IT."

I wasn't sure whether she meant the conversation or the guy himself, so I was all like, Soooo, anyway. I need to pee. C'mon Elle.

And Drunkard was all like, Who is she?


And I was all, I'm her sister. And that's our brother, Gary.


Drunkard's freaking jacktard poopface friend leans in and says, No way. [staring. disbelief. incredulous look] SISTERS? No. Half, maybe. You look like HIM. I mean, LOOK AT YOU. And LOOK AT HER! [drool, other various qualities of cretin excrement]

And I put on a tight smile and was like, Careful in a low tone with underlying threat of total desecration of his person.

So I punched him in the face and stole his wallet.

It gets better. We took off downstairs and ran to the [single] bathroom which happened to be next to a group of six or seven Spanish guys so that we could panic and hope Drunkard and his moronic friend would choke to death on air and be carried off by rats before we had to go back upstairs. When we came out of the bathroom those dumb boys all smiled and eyed us, so we were all, We're SISTERS, you dolt. That's like you having sex with your dad! and went back upstairs.

At that point, I was doing well. The three of us were planning the next days touristy events and discussing who would have to wake up early and move the car from the free-parking zone to the paid zone in order to avoid a ticket. I was doing so well, in fact, that I took my brother's phone and decided to handle the parking situation myself.

The following is an excerpt from his text log:

11:57pm   Mikr, move the car. And move it while I'm waiting.
11:58pm   Why haven't you moved the car yet?

12:22pm   Sorry Mike. My a-hole sister got my phone. We're alright here.

12:35am   No we aren't. Move the dang car, Mikr!


We decided to leave then (apparently I get mean as all get-out when I toss back three Sparklies and was starting to make plans with the devil himself). Adam thanked us for coming in and expressed his delight at hosting our family reunion. I told Adam that next time I would like to be carded because do I really look forty?

He stared at me. And do you know what he said?

No comment.


Elle and Gary had to hold me back when I tried to fight Adam. There was a lot of How dare you and I really thought we had something special and then we broke up. I mean, how can you say that to a barely-thirty something lady like myself and expect us to continue our Boozeship? So now Adam is my ex-bartender.

Back at the hotel I was still carrying on about Adam and our lost Drinkship and how everyone always thinks I'm my brother. I think Gary got a bit tired of the whine set to loop because the next thing I knew he was trying to air-stab me (cha-cha!) in front of the elevator. I stepped aside and continued complaining all the way to our floor where we somehow emerged from the elevator with Gary demonstrating how to cut our throats with the room key and him making some terrible comments involving [redacted].

[no WAY am I repeating what he said]

It was a pretty unique day.

Tomorrow, I can tell you all about Pike's Market, you can watch a fish-throwing video and see what I bought for $15. I'll even post a few photos of us.

If anyone makes the slightest comment about my age, I will find you.

I totally could. Google can do anything.

FUN GAME: Try to guess what Elle and I are doing here. Leave your guess in the comment section.




I was GOING to say...

I just spent the last hour organizing an AMAZING blog post about this weekend's events for y'all.




And I lost it.






I am pissed.




I'll be back later tonight after the flames die down.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Retail Fail

I just spent hours in retail therapy and I have nothing to show for it.

Why is it that every time I set out to buy up the entire store I cannot find a dang thing that works?

I suppose I'll hit the David Garrett concert in my old grubs.

Bah.

More when I get back on Tuesday!

Friday, January 20, 2012

Did I just get a company?

Yesterday my friend R (we will now refer to her as "Rawr") started speaking to me again. I'm not sure she was on board with the Winter Combat Zone we set up on her front porch, but since he melted Rawr can now leave her house and resume coffee mornings with me and Elle.

Rawr and I met with our Girl Scout Troop Leader in the early afternoon to discuss cookie sales and how to organize the chaos. When Rawr and I had initially offered to help track cookies for the girls, we figured we'd jot some names down, compile some monies and sit back and sip our margaritas while the girls did all the footwork.

Yeaaaah, no. Rawr and I came out of the meeting with titles and a crapload of responsibilities.

Folks, you're looking (reading?) at the new Product Manager of Troop *****!

(Well, it's basically a dressed-up way to say Cookie Keeper, but what-ev. I ran a fast food restaurant for twelve years and I obviously like fancy things)

Rawr is my co-chair, which means I'm her boss. I'm putting together a list of things that she will be responsible for. I've just got a few basics so far:

  • Organize everything
  • Field all phone calls


Well, it still needs a bit of work, but she and I make a good team. I know that she we can handle everything it.

After I was crowned Cookie Chair, I took my subordinate Cookie Employee home. During the ride, we chatted about everything we had to get organized and Rawr blamed me for volunteering her for this debacle.

I argued that I was pretty sure Rawr had jumped at the chance to help with cookies and cited an example:

Me: Remember when Leader asked if you would like to help me, Cookie Extraordinaire, with cookie sales? You practically leaped from your seat. I remember is very clearly.

Rawr: That's because you pushed me from behind and I fell out of my chair.

Me: Oh yeaaaaah. That was funny. You totally dumped your punch and everything. Haha!

Rawr: I kind of hate you.

Me: [beams]


Note: I like to volunteer for tons of stuff and drag people with me. Ask Elle how the PTA thing is going.


Actually, Leader had asked me if I was interested, I told her I would think about it and the next day there was an email from leader thanking me for volunteering. And Rawr was CC'd in it. Sometimes I think Leader confuses Rawr and I which is weird, because I'm like 5'10 and Rawr barely clears 5'.

Aaanyway, we were fighting discussing the details in the car when I inadvertently killed Rawr. Almost. And not on purpose. We were driving the speed limit in a residential neighborhood and approaching an intersection when this jack-knife in a white car comes flying toward me. He must have been going at least 700mph. Or like 40mph, but still, it was way too fast. I slowed down and did that whole wide-eyed staring and talking to him like he could hear me.

UH, are you STOPPING? HELLO, do you see me here?! OHMYGAWD HE'S NOT STOPPING AHHHHHHHHHGHHHAAAAAAAAH!!! WE'RE GONNA DIE!

At this juncture in time my speed was approximately stopped and the moron in the white car  had managed to screech to a halt, also. I didn't slam on the brakes or anything crazy like that because it's hard to drive drag-race style when you're a thirty-something mom who is overly cautious when ferrying her friend around.

Moron driver and I just stared at each other from our respective automobiles  for a minute and then I continued on.

Moi: GAH. Freaking dingbat! Who DRIVES like that?! [yelling out my side window at the offending driver] LEARN HOW TO OPERATE A VEHICLE, BUTTFACE!


Rawr: [peering over her shoulder] Um, I'm pretty sure you were supposed to yield back there.

Moi: .....SH*T.

Rawr made a few more jokes about how I was The Cookie Killer and armed with an SUV, out for blood. I thought about "accidentally" braking really hard so Rawr would bang her forehead on the dash. (J/K!)

I did feel like absolute crap for nearly assassinating her.

I mean, if I killed her, WHO would field phone calls??




















Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Warmonger

In the true spirit of the PNW, the weather has been a bit dodgy lately. Rain, snow, rain, sunshine, RAINRAINRAINRAIN. In an hour's span.

Right around the kids' bedtime (and subsequently the same time I about lost my shite after being cooped up in the house all day and then dealing with three kids who think slumber is an option) it started snowing. Again. You may remember that we were a bit worked up about the weather earlier that day. But this was the real stuff. 

I was in the act of threatening my youngest child with bodily harm (Booty-Swat!) when the eldest yanked up the blinds and declared that since it was snowing, everyone could stay up and watch the flakes. I adore his effort to take charge and be a leader in the Revolution Against Bedtime, but not on my watch. He can save that crap for his dad. 

I allowed them to check out the pretty fluffies falling and then gently reminded them that it was bedtime ("a pissy mommy is a scary mommy!" Naw, I didn't really say that. I actually refer to myself as The Enforcer).

For two hours I struggled with children yanking on blinds, throwing every sheet, pillow and blanket off the bed, in&out&in&out of bed and ohmygawd would you JUST GO. TO. SLEEP.

A moment to inquire: WHAT is it about my children and bedtime lately? Do YOU know? Because I'm at a loss. I never used to have an issue with them. Well, a real issue. Yet all of a sudden they're completely cracked out when eight o'clock rolls around. They're trying to kill me.

Moving on. 

They finally fell asleep.

Elle had just returned from her shift at The Eatery and expressed a desire to take a walk in the winter wonderland. I invited myself along. Our neighborhood is pretty tough. Lots of friendly cats and people who wave hello. No one is safe out there, especially alone. Um. At 10pm. Anyway. 

We bundled up with scarves, gloves (me, not her), etc and set out to roll a snowman.

We made it about as far as my yard when a rumbling in the distance stopped us.

Me: [listening] What the crap is that?

Elle: [rolling the body of the snowman around in the street] Probably the jack-tard that drives by every night in that truck.

Me: Four of them? It sounds like four of them. I'm pretty sure it's--GAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

Because right about that time, four guys driving quads came sliding around the corner two blocks down. I'm not even sure that words can properly convey the scene. It was like a biker gang of snow people on quads, all of them doing some kind of swirling/skidding dance on wheels and they were getting closer. I knew that I was going to get run over.

Me: [mild panic] Maybe we should, you know... get out of the road?

Elle: [gauging the distance between the quads and our bodies] Nah. We're good. Roll the middle part.

Me: Hennnhhhhh... alright.

I watched the guys careen toward us and closed my eyes, silently offering up a prayer that if the Wheelers ran over me, God could spare my face for identification purposes. The group did this whole showy-offy circle thing about two feet from our bodies while we cowered in fear, then they took off down a side street. I waited until I was sure they weren't coming back before edging toward Elle.  I decided that we needed a Snowman Militia. We would surround ourselves with these guardian angels and offer protection to those in need. Unfortunately, there was only two inches of snow on the ground and it was really freaking heavy. We decided two snowmen would offer enough security.

By that time we'd made a pretty sweet snowman butt and gut (you laughed. I know you did) and were moving on to the face. While Elle ran back inside for gloves and a hat, I finished putting the last few touches on the snowman. Unfortunately, it's been some years since I last made a snowman and the whole dang thing fell over when I tried to add the head. I was trying to roll some snow grafts and patch him together when I met our neighbor. For the first time. And I've lived here six months.

Neighbor: Uhm... can I help you?

Because I was pretty much standing in his yard.


Me: Hey! [wave] My sister and I are just uh, building a snowman. Heh. Um...

Him: ....

Me: Of course, she's inside right now. I'm not out here all alone. Haha. She's getting-

Him: Y'all are married?

wtf? Sister-Wife? No.

Me: Um. [que terror-sweat] She's getting divorced!

What?! She IS. Besides, I was scared that he was going to lure me inside for hot cocoa and torture.

Elle: [running through the yard and waving various snow gear above her head] Got it!

Me: OHTHANKGAWD. Look. A neighbor. [gesture at neighbor who is staring at us] We're in his yard.

It went on for a few more painful moments and eventually he decided we were bat-crazy and went inside to have more alcohol. Or call the police because two nut jobs were making snowmen in his yard. Whichever.

We finished up our snowmen and gave them the finishing touches, patted them on the head and had ourselves a snowball fight.





I won.


And the Snowmen Protection Agency was in place.







Neighbor One, the perimeter is secured.







Neighbor Two, I fell apart and have had some surgical alterations. 
Also, Man Neighbor is suspicious. Our cover is possibly blown.
Please send back-up. Over.