Thanks to Stephanie for tagging me for the very first time :) I could go off on a song-related tangent here, but I won't. Here goes:
Accent - Does New England have it's own accent??? I'm in NH, so the accents can vary. NO, I do not say things like "cah" for car, or "bah" for bar. I'm actually a big fan of the R. I guess I don't fit in well in NH.
Booze of choice - Beer. I know, I'm more worldly than you thought!
Chore I hate - Cleaning pee (just posted about it)
Dog or Cat - One dog - Hailey. She's a lovey and she REALLY loves my hubby.
Essential electronics - Laptop with internet. Treadmill. - good ones from Stephanie - I'm going to take those and add my iPod and Treo phone...can't live without them!
Favorite perfume(s)/cologne(s) - Modern by Banana Republis
Gold or Silver? - silver, but my wedding rings are gold
Hometown - Born in Columbus, Montana; pretty much raised in NH
Insomnia? - Nope. More prone to cataplexy attacks.
Job Title - SAHM works for now...I'll add more to the title as time goes on :)
Kids? - Pooh and Bean (son and daughter)
Living Arrangement - 3 bdrm. colonial that we can't seem to sell
Most admired trait - I have a knack for saying the wrong thing...to EVERYONE.
Number of Sexual Partners - Currently or ever? (heh, I like the mystery this answer implies)
Overnight Hospital Stays - 3 - one for each kid, and an extra one when I thought I was in back labor at 6 months (I wasn't)
Phobia - 1) losing my children 2) being alone
Quote - I'm not famous enough to have one of these
Religion - Christian
Siblings - 1 brother; 2 SIL's that I adore
Time I wake up - when the bus shows up (inevitable)
Unusual talent/skill - I can burn water
Vegetable I refuse to eat - I have yet to meet a veggie I don't like.
Worst habit - smoking. I know, I KNOW!
X-rays - have I had some? Yep.
Yummy foods I make - does boxed mac-n-cheese count?
Zodiac sign - Aries
Remember, if you don't like my answers...just blog your own.
Tagees of choice: I don't really have anyone to tag just yet. C'mon people...just do it yourselves! Oh...and let me know about it!
Monday, March 27, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
To the men in my house...
Dear Pissers:
Today, while cleaning the home that you occupy (with me), I had the immeasurably pleasurable task of cleaning up your pee.
While I enjoy my newfound job as the "Chief Cook & Bottlewasher/Chauffer/Laundry Do-er", I do NOT, repeat, DO NOT have a fondness for scrubbing your pee from every surface of every toilet in this house. I feel there are some things you need to be made aware of:
1 - As a male, you have a built-in, God-installed pee-pointer. This means, you direct your pointer where the pee needs to go. Try aiming it, and 9 times out of 10, it will go where it is supposed to.
2 - If for some reason, you feel the need to "shake" your pointer to remove excess pee, DON'T. I do not care to find your droplets on my wall, on the floor, or any other location in the bathroom other than inside the BOWL of the toilet. It's called toilet paper - use some.
3 - Do not dance, pretend you are a member of House of Pain (a la Jump Around) practice your jumpshot, or otherwise MOVE at all while peeing. Again, seeing your pee on my walls is not something that makes me smile.
4 - One of the inherent differences between women and men happens to be the "sit vs. stand" factor. In case you were unaware, you stand, I sit. As such, I do not want to sit on the rim of the toilet, I want to use the part of it that I'm meant to - the seat! The next time you leave the seat up for me, I promise you, I will place your head in the bowl, and lovingly apply the most violent swirley known to mankind.
5 - To expand upon #4, also be aware that because you stand, you should lift up the seat so as to widen the circle you point your pipper to. When you choose not to lift said seat, the odds of you pissing on my seat increase from 0 to 100% in no time at all. With this in mind, let me introduce a sub-section of instructions for you to follow:
a) lift seat
b) commence piss disbursement
c) put seat back into position you found it
d) WASH YOUR FLIPPING HANDS! (Another irritant I will discuss with you later)
6 - At this time, I also feel the need to direct your attention to the fact that I realize you are all capable of performing #2 on your own (NOT rule #2, the actual #2, wherein you smell up the house). I realize that because you are capable of this, I KNOW you are also knowledgeable enough to replace a roll of toilet paper - CORRECTLY. I am not picky about whether or not the roll faces upward or downward, just as long as you actually place a roll where it's supposed to go. There is nothing worse than to be a woman rushing around, finding those few extra seconds to pee, only to look over and see that there is not even a smidge of TP to be used. While you may find it funny to picture your mother/wife shuffling to the closet to locate an MIA roll of TP with her pants around her ankles, I assure you, it is anyting but (no pun intended).
Lastly, in the interest of gender equality, I do hereby agree to pick up the teeny-tiny pieces of feminine hygiene product wrappers that inadvertantly miss the wastebasket. I also agree to put away the miscellaneous boxes of the above mentioned products so as not to embarass you when you are meeting with other groups of unreformed pissers in this house.
Oh, and one more thing: failure to comply with my simple requests will result in the complete nullification of what I said in the previous paragraph AS WELL AS the horrifying chance that I will no longer feel the need to wash your undergarments. Oh sure, I'll pick them up from your floor, or where ever else you leave them, and I'll place them near the washer - just to give you the sense I'm doing you a favor. BUT, when you are not looking, I will don my yellow plastic cleaning gloves, carefully fold your underroos, and place them back into your dressers, dirty as they are. You may just end up being the smelly kid at school/work after all. Carefully consider your options here...
Thank you for what I assume will be your prompt adherence to these guidelines.
Love,
Mama
Today, while cleaning the home that you occupy (with me), I had the immeasurably pleasurable task of cleaning up your pee.
While I enjoy my newfound job as the "Chief Cook & Bottlewasher/Chauffer/Laundry Do-er", I do NOT, repeat, DO NOT have a fondness for scrubbing your pee from every surface of every toilet in this house. I feel there are some things you need to be made aware of:
1 - As a male, you have a built-in, God-installed pee-pointer. This means, you direct your pointer where the pee needs to go. Try aiming it, and 9 times out of 10, it will go where it is supposed to.
2 - If for some reason, you feel the need to "shake" your pointer to remove excess pee, DON'T. I do not care to find your droplets on my wall, on the floor, or any other location in the bathroom other than inside the BOWL of the toilet. It's called toilet paper - use some.
3 - Do not dance, pretend you are a member of House of Pain (a la Jump Around) practice your jumpshot, or otherwise MOVE at all while peeing. Again, seeing your pee on my walls is not something that makes me smile.
4 - One of the inherent differences between women and men happens to be the "sit vs. stand" factor. In case you were unaware, you stand, I sit. As such, I do not want to sit on the rim of the toilet, I want to use the part of it that I'm meant to - the seat! The next time you leave the seat up for me, I promise you, I will place your head in the bowl, and lovingly apply the most violent swirley known to mankind.
5 - To expand upon #4, also be aware that because you stand, you should lift up the seat so as to widen the circle you point your pipper to. When you choose not to lift said seat, the odds of you pissing on my seat increase from 0 to 100% in no time at all. With this in mind, let me introduce a sub-section of instructions for you to follow:
a) lift seat
b) commence piss disbursement
c) put seat back into position you found it
d) WASH YOUR FLIPPING HANDS! (Another irritant I will discuss with you later)
6 - At this time, I also feel the need to direct your attention to the fact that I realize you are all capable of performing #2 on your own (NOT rule #2, the actual #2, wherein you smell up the house). I realize that because you are capable of this, I KNOW you are also knowledgeable enough to replace a roll of toilet paper - CORRECTLY. I am not picky about whether or not the roll faces upward or downward, just as long as you actually place a roll where it's supposed to go. There is nothing worse than to be a woman rushing around, finding those few extra seconds to pee, only to look over and see that there is not even a smidge of TP to be used. While you may find it funny to picture your mother/wife shuffling to the closet to locate an MIA roll of TP with her pants around her ankles, I assure you, it is anyting but (no pun intended).
Lastly, in the interest of gender equality, I do hereby agree to pick up the teeny-tiny pieces of feminine hygiene product wrappers that inadvertantly miss the wastebasket. I also agree to put away the miscellaneous boxes of the above mentioned products so as not to embarass you when you are meeting with other groups of unreformed pissers in this house.
Oh, and one more thing: failure to comply with my simple requests will result in the complete nullification of what I said in the previous paragraph AS WELL AS the horrifying chance that I will no longer feel the need to wash your undergarments. Oh sure, I'll pick them up from your floor, or where ever else you leave them, and I'll place them near the washer - just to give you the sense I'm doing you a favor. BUT, when you are not looking, I will don my yellow plastic cleaning gloves, carefully fold your underroos, and place them back into your dressers, dirty as they are. You may just end up being the smelly kid at school/work after all. Carefully consider your options here...
Thank you for what I assume will be your prompt adherence to these guidelines.
Love,
Mama
Sunday, March 19, 2006
"F**ker"
A typical rite of passage into adulthood is often the ability to swear/curse without repercussion. My daughter has skipped puberty and has lauched herself directly into adulthood at the tender age of 7.
Apparently, she was trying to say two different words while talking on the bus, and "Fucker" came out. Older brother got wind of the potential punishment factor, and ran straight off the bus to his father to inform him that his sister needed to be punished for skipping puberty and becoming an adult. Oh yeah, and for saying the "F-word with 'er' on the end of it". No, my son did not repeat the forbidden utterance, he worded it carefully so he could avoid growing up and having to obtain employment. His sister, on the other hand, came clean (while sobbing):
"I was on the bus today and I was talking to so-and-so and I was trying to tell them something and I don't know what happened but I said FUCKER and T (older brother) and his friend heard me and they said they were going to tell on me and I'm so sorry mommy I didn't mean to say FUCKER, it just came out of my mouth. I wasn't trying to say FUCKER mom, I really wasn't, I promise. Please don't be mad that I said that word mom, that word FUCKER!"
In case you were counting (as I was while hearing this), she did, in fact, drop the F-bomb with 'er' on the end of it at least four times in that breathless sob-filled paragraph. Half of me is debating on whether or not she meant to say it simply because she was sobbing while recounting her brush with adulthood. The other half is screaming, "She's pulling a fast one! She said the dreaded word FOUR FLIPPING TIMES while telling you about it! She looooooves that she can say it now and KNOWS that she's not getting into trouble!"
Fortunately for her, I did not feel compelled, what with her sudden adult-like actions, to boot her from the house for her wretchedness. O - no. I had to keep from laughing and/or smiling and put on my best stern-mama face and tell her under no circumstances, even in the course of repeating that story, should she use that word ever again.
No, mama isn't mad. Mama is sitting her wondering how many times she calls people that name while in earshot of her kids. This HAS to be my fault. Damn. I was so looking forward to that Mother-of-the-Year award.
Apparently, she was trying to say two different words while talking on the bus, and "Fucker" came out. Older brother got wind of the potential punishment factor, and ran straight off the bus to his father to inform him that his sister needed to be punished for skipping puberty and becoming an adult. Oh yeah, and for saying the "F-word with 'er' on the end of it". No, my son did not repeat the forbidden utterance, he worded it carefully so he could avoid growing up and having to obtain employment. His sister, on the other hand, came clean (while sobbing):
"I was on the bus today and I was talking to so-and-so and I was trying to tell them something and I don't know what happened but I said FUCKER and T (older brother) and his friend heard me and they said they were going to tell on me and I'm so sorry mommy I didn't mean to say FUCKER, it just came out of my mouth. I wasn't trying to say FUCKER mom, I really wasn't, I promise. Please don't be mad that I said that word mom, that word FUCKER!"
In case you were counting (as I was while hearing this), she did, in fact, drop the F-bomb with 'er' on the end of it at least four times in that breathless sob-filled paragraph. Half of me is debating on whether or not she meant to say it simply because she was sobbing while recounting her brush with adulthood. The other half is screaming, "She's pulling a fast one! She said the dreaded word FOUR FLIPPING TIMES while telling you about it! She looooooves that she can say it now and KNOWS that she's not getting into trouble!"
Fortunately for her, I did not feel compelled, what with her sudden adult-like actions, to boot her from the house for her wretchedness. O - no. I had to keep from laughing and/or smiling and put on my best stern-mama face and tell her under no circumstances, even in the course of repeating that story, should she use that word ever again.
No, mama isn't mad. Mama is sitting her wondering how many times she calls people that name while in earshot of her kids. This HAS to be my fault. Damn. I was so looking forward to that Mother-of-the-Year award.
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