So howdy guys, boy I miss having time to blog.  Obviously I hardly get around to doing it anymore so if you're reading this pat yourself on the back and give you a prize, you deserve it, especially since as usual, this is probably going to be just a bit long winded.

I'm drawn to the writing table today to speak a bit to some of the ladies out there.  I normally try to stay out of the realm of dispensing too much relationship advice for a few reasons: 

For one, nobody really wants to hear what you think even when they ask you- they want to hear what they think come out of your mouth, so even when you're honest they generally tend to do what they were already going to do in the first place, and resent you a little for not having read their mind and agreed with them.  The thing is, I think MOST people don't really want to change themselves, they want to change other people's perception of themselves, which nobody seems to realize is about as possible as getting a bowling ball through a keyhole. 

Two, I have only been in two relationships, so what works for me is probably not going to work across the board, it just so happens that they were both long term relationships so I haven't had the so-called "experience" of serial dating to speak from.  Nope, just two long term relationships.

Three, it is more difficult than you think to be honest to a fault with a friend or acquaintance, because well, you want to maintain a friendship or at the very least civility so its very hard sometimes to personalize advice that it would behoove someone to hear from a psychologist, per se, rather than a friend, and again it goes back to point one which is they don't intend on listening to you anyway. 

So then many of you are probably wondering why bother, and what qualifies me to say anything in the first place.  Well, I haven't gotten any schooling when it comes to relationships, I'm not a counselor or psychologist, lets just put the cards on the table, I don't have any kind of special qualification.  I enjoy human observation- people watching- as it were and am sort of perceptive, and I have three brothers and have therefore been around a lot of dudes in my lifetime, and have picked up on some things.  I didn't interview any of them to write this, there's no research involved, this is just me, giving my unsolicited two cents.  Take it how you will.  In fact, if any dudes read this, feel free to chime in at the end with your own thoughts, I could be wrong about some things, you might have some insight, do share, I'm sure some of the girls would be happy to have some dude knowledge dropped on them.  So, onto my spiel.

Ladies, if nothing else there is a quote you need to learn from Super Troopers that is funny, yet strangely poignant, "Desperation is a stinky cologne".  It sooooooo is and men can smell it a mile away.  You can be attractive and a great catch on paper but the minute he smells your desperation you have been instantly booted out of potential relationship material to maybe I'll call her when there's nobody else better around.  He doesn't always tell you but there are signs, if you only get calls after 7pm to do something and it's rarely ever out in public and you haven't met any of his friends or family after a couple of months... if he doesn't refer to you as his girlfriend even though you tell your friends he's your boyfriend and he always has something else to do when you want him to meet up with you... you're being used, cut and run- staying longer will only get your feelings hurt and no, you're not going to change his mind.  Why?  Because he smells desperate on you.  And desperation has some family members he doesn't around, two sisters, Needy and Clingy, a couple of cousin Psychopath and Stalker, and Desperation's mother, Biological Clock.  He doesn't want to meet them at all, and when you keep company with Desperation, there is a good chance the family will want to have a reunion that he wants no parts of.

Well, you might be asking yourself, what does desperation have to do with your title, what does desperation have to do with being the "cool chick"?  Plenty, says I.  The cool chick is, I would venture to say, 95% of the time formed out of desperation.  Yup, I sure did go there.  Sorry.  Now, the thing about "cool chicks" is that like a malignant narcissist, many of them are unable to come to terms with the fact that they are in the majority, and would like to classify themselves as in the 5%.  Let me help clear that up though, I would have to say 50% of the 5% of "cool chicks" that are not desperate... are lesbians. so that leaves 50 percent of five percent, so lets do my unscientific math here, for every ten thousand "cool chicks" out there, that means 9500 are desperate 250 are lesbians and 250 are straight non desperate chicks.  The other 250 of those are girls who spent more time with their Dad's and brothers growing up and never outgrew being tomboyish.  If you still think you are one of those 250 out of the ten thousand lets delve a little further into this because probably there is a lot of confusion into what a "cool chick" is.

The "cool chick" also goes under the name, "one of the guys".  She "LOVES" all the stuff her guys love, she doesn't keep many girlfriends because she "hates girls", she belches or occasionally farts around her guys and laughs a anything they do, the more juvenile the better.  "Most of her friends are dudes"- she guzzles beer, plays pool if the guys like pool, plays poker if the guys like poker, watches football if they watch football, watches baseball if they watch baseball, she even goes as far as to memorize teams and the names of guys on their guys' favorite teams, she will sometimes start wearing the jerseys of her guys' favorite teams, she will talk about hot chicks and action movies and invite herself to as many guy functions as she possibly can to the point that she starts holding the events at her house when it becomes necessary.  She thinks of herself as one of the guys, and she thinks that they do too.  But here's the secret she doesn't know and won't admit to herself no matter how many times she hears it...

THEY DON'T.  (We're going to switch tenses here, if this is not you then I'm not talking to you but its going to seem like it for a minute).  They might tell you they do.  They might act like you are one of the guys and they probably do enjoy your company MOST of the time.  BUT!!!  BeCAUSE you are a girl, they can't tell you the real truth of the matter because your feelings will inevitably get hurt and they don't really want to do that, or deal with that, especially because you're the one who picks up the tab when they're short, but there are times when they just want to hang with the boys.  The REAL boys. 

Why?  Well for starters because no matter how crass they can be in front of you there are still some things they can't say when a girl is present, even if you have tried your very best to prove you can "handle it".  Another things is this, most guys don't need a girl friend that is not a girlfriend, and once you decide to be one of the guys, they will likely perceive you as affirming yourself one of two ways, either having put them into the "don't date/friendship" box, or asserting that you will from here on out expect to be included with him and his friends at every function you have desperately convinced yourself that you like... because he likes it, or because guys like it.

He likes playing pool?  Sweet, you're now going to learn the ins and outs of pool, you might even take a lesson or two so you can show him how sweet your pool game is.  That'll be a cool way to spend time with him right?  He likes pool, now you have made yourself become (or at least made yourself appear to be) crazy about pool, you buy a cue stick with a monogrammed case- doesn't hurt to look like you've been into pool for a while before you met him, you might even join a team, all in the hopes that he (or maybe even another guy at the pool hall) will see just how enthusiastic you are about pool and see you as the type of girl that will be so cool and "gets" him and does the things he likes.  Heck, you may have even picked the sport before you picked a guy just because you knew you like the types of guys that play it in hopes that they would notice the cool chick who's into what they're into... right, but instead he sees that if he dates you, he'll never get to enjoy his time playing pool with his friends again without you wanting to be invited along and invading his guy time, or worse, pouting because you weren't asked to come along. 

Don't forget the staple likes too, though, you can't just like the sports or games they play... you have to like their beer too.  (How many girls do you know that drink Fat Tire or Guiness that used to drink girly drinks?  It's cause of a dude... bet.)  You have adopted a sudden love of cars and watching Pinks doesn't bother you... things you would have not previously done now you will do.  Not because you actually really enjoy them, though try as you might to convince yourself and you might actually find yourself willing yourself to like them and get some enjoyment out of this stuff. 

I need to ask you something here.  Who do you think you're fooling?  Have you actually convinced yourself that you're enjoying yourself?  Yes, there are girls who genuinely like things that dude like, but even they sometimes fail to realize that this doesn't make them one of the guys.  Usually dudes know the genuine ones when they see it, but you?  You who just "adopted" the likes of this stuff midway into your twenties when your normal stuff wasn't working with the guys... (psst, it was because you had desperate on you then too, but that's a different blog)... they sense the desperate in that. 

They know because you "loathe" the "girly girls" and they wonder why you can't get along with your own kind.  Only desperate girls "hate" all other women... men will inevitably feel its because you feel threatened by them and its true, many times you are.  When you say, "girls are sneaky and will steal your boyfriend", they hear, "I'm afraid you will think my friends are hotter than me and so if I don't have friends you can't leave me for them", which also means, "I will expect for you to hang out with me all the time while I pretend to love what you like so you will love me". 

When you say, "girls are catty", he hears, "I am insecure and afraid other girls will see through my shortcomings".  When you say, "girls are backstabbers", they hear, "I have a lot of skeletons in my closet and I am afraid if I tell another girl they will let those little details slip".  When you say, "I totally think chicks are hot", they hear, "I am so desperate that I will make out with another girl I am in no way attracted to in a desperate attempt to get your attention". 

Now at this point you have to ask yourself, is this the type of person I really want to be?  With no real interests of my own because I want to make myself seem like the coolest chick ever.  The type of chick that sits at her guy function, hating it when their girlfriends get invited, secretly jealous because you're not dating any of them and wondering what it is they see in her because she's not even half as cool as YOU are.  The thing is, dudes don't want to date other dudes.  As crazy as we drive them as females, they are attracted to.... FEMALES.  Not saying you have to be high maintenence, just don't try to wrap your world up in what they do, like I said they don't want to date another dude.  And they need time away from you, they don't want to spend every waking minute with you because you "enjoy" the same stuff.  Men NEED to be around other men just as women NEED to be around other women... like it or not.  Its what keeps us normal and sane, its where we can really vent and find out what types of things are normal with us and what kinds of things we need to work on. 

The fact of the matter is we all go through phases of thinking we're doing the right thing... heck I went through it, it's hard being a tomboy and learning to transition into being a girl, but I had to do it and I did come to realize that I didn't love some of the stuff I thought I did when I was trying to fit in with even my brothers.  I don't like watching sports on t.v., I don't like stuff about cars, (ooh, though I would like to learn to fix them so I could stop paying people for that sometimes).  Its hard, I'm sure to try and figure out just how we're going to meets someone and how to maintain ourselves whilst doing so, but I'll tell you if you do for some reason hook a man by pretending to like what he likes, you're going to end up miserable.  If its not genuine you will bore of it and he will start to see through your ploy.  Then you start to resent each other and it all falls apart anyway, so why not try having your own like.

And you know what?  It's okay to actually genuinely like those things, I super love boxing because I got hooked when Mike Tyson was the reigning heavy weight champion and my dad used to let me watch the matches... I have a girlfriend that loves restoring old cars and a friend who drives hydroplanes out of sheer love for those things.  And there are girls who are girls' girls who have a lot of guy friends but have found the balance between liking what they like and having fun with the guys but know when to give them space, so all you girls, I'm not talking to you.  As a matter of fact you are probably the types of girls that get attitude from the "cool chicks" because they don't see why its so effortless for you. 

So, that entire rant and diatribe has an end coming up here.  Learn who you really are.  "Cool chicks" that are "one of the guys"...stop trying to be what you think HE wants and be who you want to be, he will like you better!  No, really!  Anyway, now that you see why I am not paid to dispense relationship advice, please add your own two cents.  Do you agree with me?  Do you think I'm full of crap?  Do you think I'm not giving some girls enough credit?  Tell me whatcha tinkin...

****THIS IS NOT THE ANNOUNCEMENT BLOG, THAT'S THE ONE RIGHT BEFORE THIS- IF YOU WANT TO SEE IT, PLEASE BACK OUT ONE AND GO THERE...UM, AFTER YOU READ THIS ONE =)******

 

Bonus!  Two blogs today.  I actually had one planned and the other came to me so I figured I'd balance out the weird with the hopefully somewhat funny, so here we go.

 

So in my spare time I find myself thinking a lot.  I know, horrible, right?  Anyway, one of the things that irks me the most in day to day life is our inability to let go of catch phrases and ideas when they've been beaten to death.  We instead would like to make ourselves so incredibly sick of them that when our children will inevitably bring them up in years to come, the very mention will bring back ridiculously embarrassing memories.  Seriously.  How many of your parents think "groovy" is cute?  The answer is they don't.  It ran its course and now it's stupid.  In the spirit of not wanting to hear certain pop culture references anymore, I am now going to propose a list of phrases I would like to see retired.  Feel free at the end to add in any of your own that you're sick of.  Chances are I'll agree with you %100.  Are you ready for my list?  Good, here we go.

 

"Who's your daddy?"- This is probably one of the more annoying of the pop culture catch phrase abuses.  It went from being a barely funny slightly urban colloquialism to unfunny hillbilly joke and sports catch-phrase.  Who's my daddy?  His name is James.  Why, do you know him?  That's now my answer to this idiocy and I'd encourage you to give a similarly sarcastic reply to any idiot who still reaches into the deep dark depths of 1999 to try and revive that one.  The somewhat tiredness of this phrase brought about the next entry which I will list in its variation.

 

"Owned"/ "pwnd".  Really?  You own me now cause you made a funny?  How clever, I've never heard that before.  And the fact that its misspelling has earned such internet cred is so obnoxiously horrifying that I really can't even tolerate people who see fit to use it.  Cripes I hate "pwned" more than most other misspellings or stupid internet phrases.

 

"You do not know me" a.k.a. "You don't know me like that".  Clearly I do not.  And clearly you believe your ability to size me up far exceeds my ability to do the same for you.  This one cracks me up because it's really meant to be intimidating but it only worked for like the first couple months people would say it, because the ever changing culture we live in tends to generate snappy responses to such carelessly stupid remarks.  In this case we're talking, "well you don't know me either".  Which is equally true.  Clearly you do not know each other, neither of you is intimidated by the other despite the fact that the ever menacing phrase has been uttered by one of you that the other does not in fact know you.  My suggestion would be, quit talkin' and start swingin' you'll get your point across and entertain the rest of us in a much quicker and much more effective fashion.  My opinion tends to sway toward, those who are the first to say it, are the ones who usually lose the fight.  Bet on it.

 

"Bling" or "Bling- bling".  For cripes sakes can we please stop it?  Things that are blingy, things that go bling in the night... nobody cares anymore!!  When urban phraseology makes it into suburban news language, it's time to retire it.  How much cornier can it get?  Now I know people can think of something new for it.  There are like eight gazillion ways to refer to money in the hip hop community you're telling me nobody can think of anything a little fresher than "bling"?  You're killing me.

 

"Ya dig"?  No.  Actually I don't.  I hate yard work and I didn't really care for the phrase when Macho Man Randy Savage overused it on WWF back in the eighties.  Yes I went there and yes you do too know what I'm talking about so stop frontin' like you didn't see his wife smack Ravishing Rick Rude.  Please homes, I have three brothers you know I saw that go down.  I know his was more like "can you dig it" or whatever, either way, it was revived for a little bit, but it's getting old again.  Let's please put it to rest, thanks.

 

This next one is a trifecta of stupid things frat boys say to describe themselves:

"tool", "douche bag", and "twat".  Yeah, are some of those things funny when Dane Cook says them.  Probably a little bit but guess what?  The forty millionth time I hear it, it's not funny at all.  Not even a little bit.  The sad thing is the false sense of power and originality people feel when the assert these things.  "Dude, you're such a tool.  You're a total douche man, quit bein' a twat".  Reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllly??  That's something you feel great about saying still?  Do me a favor and tell me in less than 3 hours what you think a "tool" is.  The problem is half of the people who use the phrase can't.  Puhlease stop with it.

 

"Bro" or even worse, it's counterpart pronounciation, "bra".  I'm not your bro.  No seriously, not just because I'm a girl.  Because I'm not remedial like you.  The guys who say this are always trying to reason with someone and somehow think this is some kind of congenial argument tactic.  Like, I'm going to be rude to you, but I'm going to call you bro so it seems more like I'm offering friendly advice than being the jackass that I really am being to you.  We see through it guy.  It's just a ploy to be rude to your friends while acting on the surface like you're being cool about things.  Stop being a tool.  Hahahahaha.  Anyway next.

 

"lol" and it's ilk (ya know rotfl varieties).  I know, I know, some of you might be scratching your head wondering how else you could possibly let someone know that you are indeed laughing out loud at their funny, funny comment.  This one doesn't bother me quite so much as the others, but you'll notice I don't ever use it.  Most of you see me write out hahahahaha.  This isn't because I don't think you're funny, but the fact is I think most people who say "lol" aren't really laughing out loud.  Sometimes maybe, but really, you're laughing out loud at the hippo dancing to the thong song?  Maybe it's time you heard some new and funny jokes.  That's a little sad.  Since most people I know use it frequently, I won't bust too many chops on that one, I just thought I'd throw that idea out there in case you wanted to run with it.  

 

Last but certainly not least, we have the overused phrase of the milennium. "Hater".  Oh yes, everyone hates on you because you're sooooooooo successful and they're sooooo jealous of you.  Now don't get me wrong.  There are "haters" and illwishers and naysayers out there everywhere.  I will not deny that.  But B.o.b. whoever you are that made a song about haters and every other no name rap artist that goes around calling people haters because we don't know or care who your no-talent having, no-named, one hit wonder, broke frontin' like you got money cuz you got an advance you already blew on rims and back support for your sixteen babies, self is.  Haters are not like money.  I know Katt Williams made a very funny segment about haters and how you need them but he was talking about when you're doing something successful.  Not when you're making songs nobody will remember in three months.  Stop and think sometimes your haters are just people who don't know you that are telling the truth.  By all means, make your paper boo-boo and I'll be happy for you if ya do, but really, I'm not hatin on you because I don't know your name and I think your rap sucks.  It's just you don't have any talent, and nobody knows who you are.  This also goes for ugly girls with bad weaves and scary fingernails in the club that believe all women are in the place hating on you because they're giving you ugly looks.  Sweetheart, they're not hating, they're wondering why your friends let you leave the house looking like that.  Get your tracks fixed and cut those talons back a few inches, put on shoes that actually fit your feet and please tuck your rolls back into as much of the jeans that are suffocating your tubby self as you can.  You are a size 16 now, please stop wearing your size 8 jeans.  Do us all a favor.  That's not hatin', it's "keepin it real" (should we retire that one as well?  Probably).

 

So that's going to wrap up my list for now. I'm starting to get the call from my porcelain friend to offer up donations from my latest attempt at a meal.  But in closing, I would like to offer up new suggestions of phrases from one of my favorite people in the world, Matt Walker.  

 

Instead of just a plain "goodbye" or "peace", try "Peace out Jewskipoos".  It rolls off the tongue and is quite hilarious in it's baffling nature.  You don't have to get it, just try it sometimes.  Try putting a little funny in your voice when you do it.  It'll make you feel good.

 

"I'm not even a bird…" You can follow this up however you want.  Matt tends to follow it with (clean version) "…but I crapped on your face".  Comedic effect is very important so it has to be somewhat irrelevant but loud enough for people to laugh at its absurdity… better yet, maybe we should leave those to Matt.  

 

Either way.  Try a new phrase today.  Get out of your old tired pop culture reference habits and maybe you'll start a trend, you never know.  Anyhow, just wanted to add a little humor to the post since my last blog was a bit on the Debby Downer side.  Holla atcha later!  (Oooh, note to self: you should add "holla" to the list…)

Hello folks.  It's  been a while since I've blogged anything entertaining so I thought I'd share this short little anecdote today.  I've had an extremely aggravating day, week, month, start of the year.  I've really wanted to make a better year than last year, but unfortunately my clean start hasn't gotten started yet.  So amidst the annoyance, I try to find reasons to laugh whenever I can, and I always have my girls to make me smile.

In particular, today's source of entertainment comes from none other than the queen of drama herself, Miss Boogie Down.  Those of you who know my kids know how they are, and you know Pookie's is totally into animals, especially horses right now.  So when she got an invitiation to go horseback riding with her friend today, there was no way I could say no.  Unfortunately, Boogie generally takes it a little hard when invitations don't include her, so I told her she could hang out with me while I worked today. 

She of course was getting bored with hanging around a computer and decided to entertain herself with one of her favorite activities, making Mommy "pretty".  The thing about her is she wants everyone to look pretty, I don't know where this particular trait comes from.  She always ask me questions like she did today like, "were you popular" and she prefers me dressed up for sure to bumming around whereas Pookie p's could really care less. 

So, today, while brushing my hair she informed me that I needed my hair brushed and that she was putting "lumps" in my hair (scrunching it with her hand to make waves) to make my hair pretty so I would be on the "pretty team" and not the "ugly team". 

What???  The heck???  Is the ugly team???  Apparently in her kindergarden class her friend Sienna and she have compiled the start of a list- who's on the pretty team and who's on the ugly team.  So, yeah, I'm nipping that in the bud, but here's the thing.  I always thought girls like that were raised by mothers like that.  I mean, I know I'm critical and all, but I'm hardest on myself.  Not her.  Nooooo.  She tells me, "well I'm definitely on the pretty list....duh."  So, uh, she's not lacking in the self confidence department!  Unfortunately I have to seriously curb the makings of a snob.  The sad thing is, she really is the sweetest thing, and it doesn't occur to her just yet how much it hurts people's feelings to be excluded or made to feel like less, so I obviously have a lot of ground work to lay with that one.

So, yeah, regardless of the mean factor, it seriously made me laugh for a while, since I'd never heard it put quite that way.  But, then there's the whole other side of the coin thing.  Either way, it was my spot of laughter in a truly crappy day, so I thought I'd share, because don't lie, the thought of an ugly team makes you laugh too!!   (I keep picturing Sloth from the Goonies as the Ugly Team Mascot...hahahahahahaha).

Anyway peeps, get at me!

Howdy folks.  How's it goin?  Good good.  So today's blog is a safety lesson for all of you not in the know about the subject matter.  Seems so simple doesn't it?  You might even be wondering how it is that anyone wouldn't know that putting tupperware in the oven is a bad idea, but you never know just who might need a public service announcement.

Our story starts out on a weekend when I was still living at home with my Mom.  I really can't even remember at this point if I'd already had Kazaria or not, it's been so long that all I can really remember is the what and not the when.  All I know is that my Mom had decided to have a Tupperware party of all things.  She already had a bunch of Tupperware, but of course you know you can never really have enough .  Anyway, in the short time span she had she was cleaning up the house and realized that she had to do a few other things and didn't have time to handwash a small pile of tupperware she already owned, so in her hurry, not wanting to have dirty dishes on the counter when company came over, she threw the few bowls and spatulas into the oven to retrieve and wash after the party was over.

Well the party went over fine and being that the old Tupperware was out of sight, it suddenly became out of mind and about two days passed without my Mom remembering to retrieve it out of the oven.  Enter me.  I decided I would make a batch of brownies for my brothers and I to munch on.  As I started mixing ingredients together I turned the oven on to preheat.  Yeah.  Without opening it to check first to see what could possibly be in there, like oh, Tupperware. 

As I stood there mixing ingredients, I was completely unaware of anything that could possibly be going wrong.  It's at this point that my youngest brother Matt comes up the stairs.  Matt looks into the kitchen and calmly says to me, "the oven's on fire".  To which I give him the stinkeye (which let me interrupt here and just quickly express my love for that expression- stinkeye...hahaha.  I love that word.  Anyway). So I say back to him, "ha ha Matt, I haven't even starting baking yet", to which he replies, "no, Em, the oven is on fire".  I suppose it was his calmness that threw me off but as I turn to look at the oven, sure enough I see flames springing up from an unknown source on the inside.  Oh no!!

I throw the oven open to see Tupperware melting in long gobs of stringy goo and then landing on the bottom of the oven and catching on fire.  Flaming piles of goo were mulitplying on the bottom as Matt and I rushed to grab flour and throw it into the oven to extinguish the fire (I didn't know if it would be like a grease fire where if you throw water on it it makes it worse or not so I figured better safe with the flour than sorry).  Anyway, the flour worked but the house smelled AWFUL.  Burning anything stinks but there is a distinctive smell to burnt Tupperware that you really don't want to experience, just take my word for it. 

Well, we had to act quickly and try to scoop out as much of the melty globby, floury goo in the bottom of the oven as possible and with Matt's help I did get most of it out.  Only thing was, after I tried to do a test run of turning the oven back on, it smoked like a chimney, so there was no getting off the hook with Mom when she got home.  I explained what had happened and my Mom was far less than thrilled.  It didn't help that they literally had to smoke out the rest of the Tupperware residue over the next few months, which meant the oven was virtually unusable for a while.  Lucky for me my Mom didn't really cook a lot at that time anyway, but man, the terrible smell that eminated from that oven everytime it got turned on was just nauseating. 

So, I definitely learned a lesson that day.  Something my Dad had said in regard to checking for ingredients before starting something suddenly also applied to the oven, his little rhyme that says, "look before you cook".  So kids, if you take anything away from this blog today, let it be that, my Dad's little rhyme, because you never know when somebody might have stuck something in that oven that you don't know about!

Well, this has been another blog by me!  Tune in next time when I talk about something else!

Hey ya'll.  Ssuuuuuuup?  So I don't have a whole lot to say today, thought I would relay a story from the other day that struck me as funnny.

I went shopping at Big Lots with the girls, because well, whenever I need something random and don't really care what the quality is like, I go to Big Lots.  It's one of my very favorite stores ever, wall to wall cheap stuff.  The beauty of it is that it suits your needs and since it's so cheap it doesn't matter if what you buy lasts a long time or not.  How great is that?  Anyway.  Rob's dad had given the girls money for Christmas and lately they've been on this kick when they get money, they love for me to take them shopping so they can buy something of their very own with their very own money.

Now after an extensive stint of shopping in the store, the girls decided on their purchases.  I have to tell you that in the midst of the process I almost lost my whole mind on Kazaria.  She's 10 now as most of you know and part of her developing personality is personal taste which is great, and in that, she is starting to get the slightest bit defensive if you say something that she construes as an insult to her taste. Unbeknownst to me she liked this toy sea-lion thing that I happened to think was hideous.  Now most of you that know me know that things sometimes come out of my mouth faster than I can react to try and keep them in, so she holds up this sea-lion and says, "Mom, look at this thing".  I turn to look at it and out of my mouth comes, "ew, that's scary ugly!" not initially realizing that she is considering buying it.

And do you know what this child said to me?  "That's your opinion, not mine" (insert snotty teenager attitude voice when you say that in your head).  Now, I don't mind her saying that she likes it despite what I think, she's entitled to her own opinion, but my head snapped back momma style and I almost slapped the girl.  Believe I checked that, but I thought I should put all family members on notice, it's officially going to start coming down the pike from that one.  The attitude.  *sigh*  Yeah, so back to the shopping trip.

We get our purchases and head to the line and get rung up.  A'zhane went first and then Kazaria and I.  Sarah and her friend's granddaughter were with us and  we were waiting for them to finish being rung up in the line next to ours.  What I don't notice and should have is that A'zhane starts studying the cashier.  Now usually I see this and I can head her off at the pass.  What pass?  You may be asking yourself at this point.  Well, let me explain.  I can usually read the many faces of Boogie, and I should have seen this face coming.  The look consists of her cocking her head slightly to the right, squinting her eyes ever so slightly, pursing her lips together and tapping her finger to them.  This means she's considering commenting on something she finds odd, and usually I can get to her first to distract her from saying what she's about to say.  Not this time.

Before I tell you what she said, let me explain the appearance of the cashier, I mean aside from the super cool Big Lots uniform consisting of black pants, and random shirt and ultra cool red vest.  This man looked a LOT like Eugene Levy, you know from the American Pie movies, the dad, wait, here, I'll put in a pic:

As a matter of fact, if you put a mustache and even dorkier glasses on him, maybe shrink the nose a bit and have him acting a little more effeminate, they could be twins. 

"You look like a magician", I hear as my head whips around and I practially see smoke coming from Boogie's mouth as it came out like a cannon ball that had just been shot.

Stunned silence followed as I quickly grasp for straws.  Do I apologize for the statement, did he take offense, did anybody else hear it....oh crap why didn't I see that coming and tell her to shut her trap?  And then I took a good look at the guy and realized he did look startlingly not only like Eugene Levy pictured above, but also sorta like the magician from Frosty the Snowman , pictured below:

And then I had to fight hard not to laugh.  I quickly looked around and only a few people heard it and so we all tuned into the cashier to see what his reaction would be. 

Luckily, he brushed it off with a half laugh and said that magicians make much better money than he does so maybe he should be a magician.  Relieved I quickly grabbed her by the arm before she could continue revealing the innerworkings of her little brain and swept her to the door. 

So, yeah.  The saddest part of the whole scenario is the realization that she's like that because of me.  She probably inherited my broken mind filter, the one that keeps all of the things you should never say to a person inside of your head instead of outside of your mouth (as previously demonstrated by the sea lion comment).  We'll be working on that.  Well that's about all I have for today.  I'll try and blog something interesting one of these days!

Here's another open letter folks.  Feel free as usual to vent your own frustrations in your comments.  I realize this ranting is becoming a little on the norm, so hopefully this will be the last one in a while, but relax, I'll try to make this one somewhat funny.

Dear Man on the Bike (and friends of the like- ooh, that rhymes!)

As you glide gracefully down the hill on your shiny bicycle, sun shining on your ultra cool rayban sunglasses, wind blowing in your...um, giant helmet's holes, spandex pants snugly hugging the most inappropriate of parts that the public doesn't actually wish to view in the least, I'm going to have to ask a favor of you.  Would you please, get off the road for the love of Pete? 

"It's my legal right!" says you, "I am helping to save the environment", you assert as you climb the ladder of self-righteousness.  "The streets are for bikes as well as cars", you reiterate ad nauseum.  See, as much as those things may be true, let me explain something to you very clearly in terms you can understand.  "I will run you over with my gas guzzling, overpriced, foreign, air polluting, and speed limit moving car".  Need that repeated?  No? Then move.  Get off the road and let all of the other cars pass your slow, obnoxious, self righteous bicycling behind.

Now, in University Place and parts of Fircrest around here they have provided a bicycle lane, and some people applaud that effort.  Me, meh, sort of, and sort of not so much.  Here's the thing.  In high foot traffic areas, I can understand the need for a bike lane.  But when the vast majority of sidewalks are empty, I see a prime opportunity for bicycle placement.  Not in front of my car when I am trying to get my honey to work in the morning and my children to school. 

But you, man on a bike?  You feel the need to excercise your right to the road, thereby irritating all of us reasonable folks who would love nothing more than to go faster than 10 mph without the worry of running over the ridiculously dressed idiot in the middle of the road in front of us.  Oh, you're so glorious, aren't you, riding along showing the world what a prime example of a human being you are, looking smugly on at those of us riding along in our pollutionmobiles.  "Let them all suffer", you think as you pedal along in self appreciation, "they should be so forward thinking as I, both keeping fit and protecting the environment simultaneously as I do".  Nevermind that we don't all work down the street like you do, spandexman.  Nevermind that you are impeding several people's lives because of your smug self righteousness, no, we will all suffer on your account, but aha!  A red light approaches. 

As is the law, you pull to the right, plotting your move, trying to position yourself so you can be first on the pedal as to resume your spot in the middle of the road blocking traffic rather than riding alongside it, afterall, you do so need to teach the world a lesson, one traffic jam at a time.  Never you mind that it actually is worse for cars to be sitting at such a slow pace polluting one area for longer than necessary, you're too busy being smug!  Too bad for you, my honey is faster on the pedal.  Take that!  Bicycle man!  Ha, now you have to move to the right of the road and all the appreciative cars behind, quickly pull to bumper so you have to stay to the right and are resigned to where you belong, to the back of the line.  That is, until it's time for the next wave of traffic to come, but then you will be their problem.

In the future, try to remember that just because you are making a particular life choice, that it can still be very much more obnoxious for the rest of us to put up with it, and for some of us, being stuck behind you on your bicycle as you condescendingly glance over your shoulder at the rest of us is the equivalent of cramming your personal views down everyone's throats.  And the thing is, you're not even fast on your bicycle. So, while you probably are envisioning yourself as the next Lance Armstrong in your stupid little head, the rest of us just see a ridiculous, self righteous, over the hill man suffering from a mid-life crisis, mixed with an overdeveloped sense of self worth.  So, kindly move to the right of the road, and even more preferably the sidewalk, where you can dodge pedestrians rather than having to worry about cars running you over and save the world some sanity.  Or buy a hybrid to keep your smug sense of superiority and save us all a little frustration.

Sincerely,

Me, the person about to run you over the next time I see you.

So, I have officially arrived.  I have totally accheived "it" status, I am a VIP.  Totally.  Wanna know why?  No, wait, I already know that you're just dying to know.  It's because of what I have recently aquired.  Guess what it is!  I'll wait, go ahead and guess.  No, nevermind, I'll just tell you.  I'm too excited.  Seriously. 

I got...my very own....make up artist and stylist!  Yup, little old me.  I know, I know, you're thinking to yourself, just what could I possibly need one of those for?  What kind of ridiculous extravagance is that for someone who works from home?  Why would I of all people need to employ someone for makeup and style tips, and how can I afford to keep this person on payroll 24-7?  Well, I'll explain.

My makeup artist/ stylist is pretty cheap, and also, pretty much always available.  I let her board with me, so she doesn't have to pay rent, and I give her all of her meals, so she doesn't have to bother with food.  Since she doesn't have any bills or anything, she can focus more time devoted to my beauty needs.  Plus, she's really good natured and always on call and ready to help.  I feel really lucky, I do.  Granted, she is five.  Yes, I said it.  She's five years old.  She's also my own daughter, and she actually kind of does have to earn her keep around here other than makeup duties, you see, I make her clean her room, too.  (Oh, the horrors, I know). 

This all came about when my sister in law bought her a little bit of play makeup for either her birthday or Christmas (before you wonder why I can't remember that tidbit, her birthday and Christmas are two weeks apart so I can never remember when she got what).  Anyway, she's been playing around with it off and on, and she's done my make up before, but now she's decided it's serious.

The other day, I was innocently sitting in my chair working when she walks up with her make up kit and says she needs to do my make up and put earrings on me.  I asked her why she "needed" to, and this is what she tells me. "You have a problem with your owies and boo boos..." (Lord have mercy, don't EVER have a blemish on your face in front of her because she will IMMEDIATELY point it out and ask you why you have an "owie" or a "boo boo" on your face).  She continued, saying "...I have to do your makeup so people don't laugh at your face when you go outside."  Wow.  What a vote of confidence for Mom in the looks department, huh?  Then she proceeds to tell me that I should probably put on a pretty dress, so that people don't think my pants are ugly. 

So, I know right now the burning question on your mind must be, "but is she any good?"  Well!  Today I will let you judge the results for yourselves.  May I present to you, me, via Boogie's make up job. (Lord help me !!)

 

So.  What do you think?  Anybody wanna hire a five year old now?  So, anybody else out there getting this treatment?  I think I'm on the cutting edge of fashion, or the edge of getting admitted to a funny farm if people see me in this makeup.

Hey everyone.  Today has been a boring day.  Boring work junk, boring everything.  What can I say, it's Monday.  I am not sure how many of you have heard of a publication called The Onion.  It's basically a fake newspaper and if you have a broad sense of humor, you might find it funny to check out sometime.  It does stories like the ones I wrote below.  These are fake stories, don't worry, but if you like them, if that kind of thing is your type of humor, you might want to check out www.theonion.com when you're bored.  It's entertaining at the least.  So here are my two "onion" type stories, just because I was bored enough to write them.

Lottery Doesn't Pan Out For Local Woman

 

Missoula, MT-- After 13 years of faithfully buying lottery tickets, local woman Anna Marzano, 34, has finally called it quits.  Sources close to Marzano site her repeated frustration over losing the lottery throughout the last 13 years as the reason for the resignation from her favorite pastime.  

 

"Anna has been a customer of mine since 1994, when she first turned 18", said 7-11 cashier Marla Johnson.  "She's bought a ticket for every lottery available, save one in 1998".  The one missed was apparently due to a nasty bout with the flu when she was unable to drive the mile and a half to the convenient store.  "She'd never win, but God bless her, she'd be back just like clockwork"

 

"It's probably for the better", said boyfriend Patrick Almay, 36.  "She'd spend so much money on those lottery tickets that she couldn't pay her bills, but she just believed so much that it would pay off in the end when she hit it big in the lotto."  When asked for an estimate of how much money Marzano had spent on lottery tickets over the last 13 years, Almay estimated that it had to have been upwards of $70,000, on personal tickets alone.  It's reported that Marzano would also participate in office lottery pools twice a month.  "Well she would buy multiple tickets in a given day.  She would always buy more when a ticket would yield a $1 or $2 win, thinking she was having a lucky streak."

 

When asked, most of Marzano's friends and family agreed with boyfriend Almay that it was probably for the better.  Most surmised that the reason Marzano continued to lose, was that the odds were not in her favor.  "I mean the odds are better that you're gonna get hit by a car", remarked Harriet Marzano, Anna's grandmother.  "She just has to realize that enough is enough". 

 

Not all, however, are as confident in Marzano's conquest to quit.  "She'll be back", says Marla Johnson of Marzano.  "I've seen 'em all try to quit cold turkey and they just can't do it.  Oh sure, she'll quit for a week, and then it will be a scratch ticket here and there, and she'll start up again".  When asked if she believed it would result in a win, Johnson replied, "heavens no!  Do you know what the odds are of that, but bless her, I'd hate to lose her as a customer, so I'll keep supporting her dreams."  Adds Johnson, "I'm here for ya', honey, whenever you need your lotto fix!"

 

 

Coroner Calls Cause of Death for Elderly Woman "Old Age": Family, Police still suspicious.

 

Rochester, NY-- 98 year old Edna Schneider passed away this past week in her Rochester home.  After examination of the body, the city coroner, Mark Franklin, calls the death, "unremarkable", "non-suspicious", and lists the cause of death as "old age".  "Ms. Schneider was an old woman", remarked Franklin.  "She had long been a widow, had lost most of her friends, as well as her will to live- it was just her time to go".

 

Family members and the local police are not so sure.  "She hasn't been sick or anything", says Herbert Schneider, Edna's 74 year old son.  "She just out of the blue didn't wake up the other morning when I brought her a cup of her lukewarm tea.  I suspect that someone had it out for my mother."  Though there were no signs of a break in, and Schneider herself had not left her home in over 4 years, other family members are also slow to believe the coroner's report.

 

"That Franklin guy's a hack", says 39 year old Andrew Schneider, the grandson of Edna Schneider.  "I seen better doctors in Tijuana.  She didn't die of no old age, she wasn't even that old".  When asked what his idea of old was, the younger Schneider replied, "like at least 100, man, at least 100".  

 

Despite neighbors reporting phone calls from Schneider stating that she had just had enough and was ready to die, police are continuing to investigate her death, calling it suspicious.  "I don't know", said Lt. Dan Earling, "this family is not at all convinced that Ms. Schneider died a natural death and I'm inclined to believe them."  There are no suspects, or theories even, on the demise of Ms. Schneider from Rochester police, however, Lt. Earling goes on to explain, "that coroner has been wrong before.  Last May when Jimmy Bitterman was killed, he listed, 'blunt force trauma' as the cause of death.  Blunt force trauma, puh!  We all knew the cause of death was the baseball bat that Rodney McKitrick took to his head.  Talk about a quack coroner!" 

 

The Medical Examiner's office had no comment other than to say that they stand behind the findings of Franklin, saying, "Our coroners are both accurate and competent.  I am sure the police will find that this death was as natural as the scenery outside."  The police department has promised to keep the public informed on this developing story.

 

Dear Loser,

While I am extremely flattered that you found my profile interesting enough that you just had to hack it, I would like to ask that you refrain from doing so in the future.  I realize that your lack of maturity has you delusionally thinking that sticking your name in different parts of people's  profiles is amusing, but in the real world, it's the equivalent of putting "Raul was here" on a bathroom wall, and that's just sad.  It reeks of low class and no life. 

I know it must be hard on you, to be a computer nerd, stuck in your world of boring html codes and urls all day, and since you have so much time on your hands to hack other people's profiles, I can only imagine your social life is lacking, to say the least.  And the likelihood of you having a girlfriend has got to be very slim to none, so I'm sure hacking must be the highlight of your day. All that aside, it does not excuse your poor behavior.  You are truly showing that your mother taught you no manners or respect for other people's privacy and so hopefully this letter will help to serve where your mother failed miserably. 

When you hack profiles, not only are you breaking the law, but you are annoying any and everyone who utilizes this forum for fun and communicating with their friends.  (Friends, by the way are actual other people that you associate with- you may want to take notes).  In addition, since I have trusted my friends on here with stories about my children, but have not permitted you that access, you are trampling on pretty thin ice.  Should you decide to violate my childrens' privacy, you better hide in whatever nerd terminal you live in, or I will be sure you are found and prosecuted, you DO NOT MESS WITH MY CHILDREN!!! 

Now that you have obviously mastered the computer nerd art of hacking profiles and irritating people such as myself, maybe you should move on and try something new.  Try picking up a book, like How to Win Friends and Influence People.  Perhaps pick up a newspaper and flip to the local section where they have a lot of suggestions for things you can do to have an actual real life outside of hacking profiles on MySpace.  Try a park, or a mall, rollerskating rink, or bar for all I care but for cripes sakes, man, get out from behind the computer screen and get a life!!!

In closing, Raul, I have no doubt that you are obviously able to hack profiles and could probably do it 100 times over, but really, you need to realize what kind of loser that makes you.  I would appreciate if from now on you would stay out of my profile and get a life of your own.  I mean if you really want to be a pregnant woman that badly, you could always invest in a sex-change and pregnancy pack and then adopt a kid so you can feel like you went through it, but until then, stop pretending to be me.

Sincerely,

Em Em

P.S.  Whatever your nerd "Inland Empire" garbage is all about (and I can only assume it must be some nerd game or club you probably play for hours on end in front of the computer), doesn't strike one as particularly "tough" or "gangster" when people realize the person "claiming" it is just a dorky computer hacking loser such as yourself.  So if that was your intent, (to sound "cool" or "tough" or "gangster") you're probably just an embarassment to whoever else might think that's cool.  Just sayin'.

I have recently fallen victim to a previous addiction of mine, and at this time I don't even want help.  I don't want and don't need an intervention, I am doing harm to no one, well maybe myself, but it definitely isn't hurting anyone else.  I have been caught up in this addiction once before, shortly proceeding and then after the birth of my second child.  It lasted for nearly a year before the cravings finally stopped coming so often and I was able to ween myself off.

It all started, as I said when I was pregnant with Boogie.  After I finally got over being sick, I started developing an urge for something really cold.  At first it started relatively small with slurpees.  I would have at least a slurpee a day, my favorite would be the coke slurpee, if that wasn't available, cherry would do just nicely.  Since I am a coke drinker, I would sometimes have to subsitute while I was at work and having a craving and couldn't have access to a slurpee.  So, I would buy a regular coke and go to the ice machine on the third floor and get the crushed ice.  Thus the stronger addiction developed.

Initially, I would just drink the coke and maybe toss in a few pieces of ice but then one day, I mindlessly began to crunch on the few pieces of ice left at the bottom of the cup.  Oh the sound was irritating at first, but something about having a cold mouth felt nice, so I got over the sound and ate a little more ice.  Gradually I began working my way up the ice chain to where I would fill the entire cup with ice, hurry up and drink the coke and then eat all the remaining ice but suddenly one day that just wasn't doing it for me anymore. 

Needing to fill my craving, I ventured up the stairs at work one day and got my regular coke and cup of ice, and then I did the unimagineable.  I got an extra cup and filled it with ice.  So that way, I could have my coke and eat some ice at the same time and still have ice left over at the end.  I know, sick.  So very very sick.  Well, eventually as you can probably tell, some days I wouldn't even need the coke at all.  I would just get a cup of ice and bring it down to my desk and eat the ice plain.

I knew my addiction was getting out of control when I started to eat the ice at home.  See, that ice isn't crushed ice.  I don't have and didn't have an ice crunching refrigerator.  I have the cubed kind so I would make smaller cubes of ice, just so I could eat them, or wait until the ones I put in my kool aid or water or coke got small enough to munch on.  It became like popcorn to me, where I would eat it while watching movies or my favorite t.v. show, or carry around a cup and eat it while I was cleaning house. 

The sickness carried on probably until Boogie was around nine months old at which point I was eating less and less and finally I didn't feel the urge to eat it anymore at all.  It once again could be used solely as a drink cooler or bruise reducer.  But alas, the addiction has again reared its ugly head.  And I have to say that being a pregnant moody lady, I just don't care.  I am eating ice again, as a matter of fact, since I work from home I am breaking up the big old ice cubes to satisfy my cravings.  I even ordered a coke from McDonalds the other day and ordered a small cup of ice on the side so I could eat the ice.  Rob saw it and laughed at me.  He doesn't know what this is like. 

So, daily I am finding myself in need of a cold mouth fix and I am on the verge of buying a bag of crushed ice just to keep around for when I am craving.  I know I am probably damaging the enamel on my teeth and annoying anyone within earshot so I am trying to supress the urges as much as possible, but at the same time, meh, like I said, I'm not hurting anyone.  I do, however, hope this addiction ends sooner than the last, as I will have more peace with less cravings, so folks, pray for a sister.

Hahaha.  Anyway, quick update on pregger phase.  I am 26 weeks a long which for you math whizzes is exactly half of a year that I have been pregnant for.  Also it means I am now in my third trimester.  I have technically 14 weeks to go and this baby is getting bigger and bigger weighing in around the 2lb mark and measuring at about 9.2 inches from head to butt.  Patterns of sleep are developing which kind of sucks because this one is up at night a lot.  Lets hope that changes!  Also baby can "dance" to music. So yeah, that's about all for now.  I will check back in a little later!!