Now that I read this it looks like I'm single-handedly stimulating the economy: Random Tuesday Thoughts

Well, hola, kidlets. Thanks for stopping by. Can I get you anything? Beer? Wine? 4-day-old muffins?

Random Tuesday Thoughts?

So after whining mightily yesterday about how I am perfectly at peace with my weight and I'm just in it to be the fittest little Keely I can be, I weighed myself at the gym this morning (what? I'm still curious) and found I had lost a pound. One that I hadn't lost before. OF COURSE.

I swear, ever since having a kid, my body is just out to fuck with me. Imagine what would happen if I had another baby? Like, the entire left half of my body would collapse or something. And then re-inflate for no apparent reason. Just to fuck with me.

I should get shoulder blade implants or pierce my forehead to teach it a lesson.

I bought this pair of jeans a while ago. They're black jeans with an 80s-style wash on them, so they kind of have that grey look? I had qualms about looking like a throwback but my friend Fashionista reassured me that they're hip. Again. I mean, there's a reason she's called Fashionista, I should probably just trust her.

But now I can't wear them without feeling like everybody's looking at me and thinking I haven't updated my wardrobe in 20 years. (Which is totally unfair, it's been updated as recently as 1999). I feel like I should display my butt prominently so those judgemental assholes can see that the jeans are Sevens and therefore beyond reproach.

Except that would involve actually showing people my butt so I'll just continue to feel like I crawled out of a thrift store. And like an asshole for assuming that trendy labels would make me look hip.

I'm not hip, folks. In case you missed that.

I find it interesting that some of the designer jeans, like 7 For All Mankind and Citizens of Humanity, have these names that imply inclusion but pricetags that don't.

Well, okay, there's just those two. But still, it's like you're not allowed to be a part of the jeaned human race unless you can afford to drop $300 on a pair of jeans.

Well, if you're me, $150, because I refuse to buy them unless they're on sale. So my theory is kind of falling apart here.

Fine, they're Jeans of All HumanityKind.

I think I just made up a new label.

That last bit was almost a whole blog post on it's own. My Random Thoughts are getting big ideas for themselves.

Knock it off, you little bastards, I OWN YOU. Know your place.

I lost my cel phone last week. Despite my complete disorganization and general disregard for material possessions (mine OR anybody else's), that thing served me faithfully for almost 3 years. So it was time. I bought an LG Voyager, which is kind of like the iPhone with the touchy-feely screen, except you can use it even when you have deadfinger. So far I like it, I haven't butt-dialed anybody and my fat fingers haven't accidentally rung up Taiwan. In celebration I downloaded the Indiana Jones theme song for my ringtone.

Except when FoN calls. Then it's the Darth Vader song. Make of that what you will.

I am a little disappointed in the available apps. Which is NONE. But that might just be my carrier.

You know, when I hear 'app' I still think "appetizer". Why yes, I'd LOVE to download some nachos to my phone!

This is why I'm not allowed to rule the world. I would spent too many resources in the area of cheese research.

I'll just preside benevolently over my little corner of the bloggieverse, here at Random Tuesday Thoughts. We can all rule together.

We rule!

Ahem. Anyway, if you'd like to play, grab the button, write a random post, and leave your link with Mr. Linky so we can all check you out! I promise not to spend TOO much time ogling your butt!

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

I hereby tender my sort-of temporary resignation

I give up.

Now, before you go sending the HASAY ninjas after me,

(pause to picture Casey in a ninja costume...okay, done)

hear me out.

I'm not giving up working out, and I'm not giving up eating healthily. I'm just giving up on my goal weight.

I'm tired of losing, gaining, and re-losing the same two frickin' pounds. I'm tired of stressing out about what the scale might say this week, and feeling frustrated because I'm not making any 'progress'.

Well, how's this for progress? My jeans fit now, even the ones that didn't fit well pre-pregnancy. I feel fitter and stronger than I have in years. I can try clothes on and look in the mirror and not think, "Oh...gah...well...maybe if I turn sideways and suck it in the whole time...". I am well-positioned to be one of the fit few who survive the zombie apocalypse.

So. Neener neener, goal weight. I don't need you. I was considering starting my own splinter group, like Michelle did, only calling it Twice As Fit As You. Except that sounds pretty braggy, and since Jen can run for like an hour straight, it's also a complete fucking lie.

So, no splinter group. I'll participate in Half As Small As You, I'll post my workouts and I'll totally fess up if I gain back any weight. I'll be a HASAY cheerwhoreleader. But for me, this is as hot as it gets.

(It's pretty hot though).

I pretty much apologize to anybody who's ever been published: Friday Fill-Ins

This week Janet used sentences from her favorite books. I apologize to her, and to all of the authors of those books.

And...here we go!

1. "In a hole in the ground there lived a dog. What? It was a rare subterranean species of dog. The, um, canis undergroundeous. Look, don't make it MY fault if you don't know your local flora and fauna."

2. "That may be an antiparticle, son, that may even be a positron, but that ain't no matter."

3. "After dark the rain began to fall again, and nobody really figured out why it had been hovering in midair in the first place."

4. "An enormous belch issued forth from the hold of the Spanish galleon."

5. "There was a hand in the darkness and IT WASN'T ATTACHED TO ANYTHING."

6. "Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, happy accidents usually involve the inebriated."

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to re-reading World War Z (no, not really), tomorrow my plans include re-reading Twilight (again, not really) and Sunday, I want to find a book that doesn't suck or scare the crap out of me!

I bet we left a shotgun there, too

This is a picture of me and my Dad. Me and my little plastic alligator shovel are "helping" him dig the foundation for a log cabin that he and a buddy subsequently built BY HAND.

It's not hard to be the underachiever in my family, really. But I do it with style.

That cabin was the source of many happy family times until it fell into disuse during my teenage years. My parents offered to sell it to my brother and I for a dollar if we would only maintain it, and we both turned them down.

Which, in hindsight, was incredibly stupid, because when the Zombie Apocalypse happens I'm totally going to be kicking myself that I don't have a remote cabin in the woods to bug out to.


Posted in participation with:



(And on a totally unrelated note, do you like pretty things? If so, head over and enter the giveaway we've got going on today at Connoisseur du Jour!)

It could have been worse, apparently mangos spray acid

Rachel's RTT post yesterday included a bit about how lovely the orange blossoms are smelling in her corner of Florida right now. Which I'm a little jealous about, because there is NOTHING growing here at the moment, never mind blooming. But I'm really not that jealous, because up until very recently the smell of orange anything made me want to puke up a lung.

You see, once, my friend Fashionista and I went on a little tour of the South Pacific. And somewhere around Sydney, we ran out of money. We probably could have held out longer if we weren't treating it like one big extended lunch-and-shopping date, but hey, it was OUR vacation, if we wanted to spend money on sushi and Golf Punk shirts and the quest for a decent cup of coffee, we were going to do that. So shut up.

Anyway, we spent about a month in the armpit of Australia picking oranges to make some cash. Approximately 4 or 5 bins of them a day. The bins were 8 feet by 8 feet by 2 feet deep. Which is like...(counts on fingers)...a fuckload of oranges. And oranges, when you pick them? They zest. They spray the lovely scent of themselves all over you.

Also, orange trees have thorns. Did you know that? I sure as hell didn't. Fashionista and I had deep gouges on our forearms that no amount of Polysporin could allay. We spent a whole month aching, bleeding, with crabbed hands, reeking like fucking oranges.

You could see how there might be some negative connotations there.

Oh, and there were spiders.

Not as many as there would be during other seasons, but enough of those big hairy bastards for me to worry that one might crawl on me while I was picking the oranges at the top of the tree. Because my first instinct when a spider touches me is to leap four feet straight backwards, and that is EXACTLY what you want to do while at the top of a ladder.

I was pretty sure I was going to die there on that Australian orange farm.*

But at least I got to drive a forklift. I can always be distracted by letting me play with machinery that can potentially cause a lot of damage.




After a month we took our money and ran. We managed to run for at least one week before we were broke again, because clearly our experience had taught us NOTHING. So we landed back in Sydney and found employment making candles, which on the whole was preferable to the orange-picking, but that's a story for another day.


*It wasn't the worst place to die, because the Australian orange farm was populated with Australians. And Aussies, as we all know, are some of the nicest, kindest, most generous and welcoming-est people there are. I'm pretty sure they would have honored my wishes and buried me somewhere other than the orange grove. In a ceremony possibly involving wallabies, because they're cute.

In fact, I may forget I posted this at all, and then panic later: Random Tuesday Thoughts

Back when I started Random Tuesday Thoughts, I originally had a co-host, Kelly the Neurotic Mom. But then she got smacked with a major bloggy disappointment and one of those exhausting pregnancy things to boot, so she took a bit of a leave. But she's back! New and improved!

Um. Or older and wiser. Or something. Anyway, you should visit her at her new home, Baby Boogers, and leave your linky with her as well. And while you're at it, visit the rest of the participants this week too!

And if you're new here, well, this is how it works: Write a random post. Get the button and place it with care. And then leave your link with Mr. Linky. Easy, right? You could probably do it in your sleep after a couple of bottles of wine and a Percocet.

Let us begin!

I'm not blogging and drinking this time. I'm stoned on muscle relaxants instead. Could make for a mellow post.

I'm hitting the horse pills because I effed up my back somehow. I'm thinking that I over-exerted it last night. Here's the part where I tell you it was some fabulous new workout and oh, aren't I a dedicated little fitness buff, but no. My toddler woke up from a nightmare and it took 45 minutes of standing and rocking his 30-lb self to get him to calm down.

It also took approximately 3817 repetitions of singing the alphabet. I hope this doesn't create any bad associations for him. I guess if he runs screaming from the room during his first eye exam, we'll know for sure.

A haiku:

Naked! I feel naked!
Leaving cel phone at home is
like forgetting pants.

I wonder who first decided that having someone hug themselves and then flinging yourself bodily onto their shoulders in order to crack their back would be a medically sound decision?

I think I need another horse pill. My brain is tensing up. And my teeth feel like they might stay in their sockets, after all.

I'm a little disturbed by all the robot creations lately. Like robot teachers. And robot fish. Not to mention robot supermodels.

Also, botnets. Do I have to start worrying about the possibility of Skynet gaining sentience as well as zombies? I can only handle so many irrational fears, people.

Hm. ONE glass of wine probably wouldn't hurt, would it?

I mean, I'd PROBABLY wake up if the toddler was crying or the house burned down.

Really?

You guys are spoilsports.

Fine, I'll just get my pain relief from your RTT posts and loving comments. So hook me up, yo. Grab the button and make it happen!

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

I love it when someone else tries to set a goal for me

Unbeknownst to me, my fantastic hubby has been searching for the elusive Wii Fit since, like, before Christmas. He finally found one that didn't require selling an organ to buy (although, I pointed out, he has TWO kidneys) and it arrived this week.

Despite the fact that it told him he is OBESE (he's not), hubby instantly dumped Maya the Fitness Coach for the Wii Fit. Because it's younger. And easier.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Anyway, the Wii Fit told me I was OBESE as well. I'm not. It also told me I should lose ten more pounds than I planned on losing. Um, the last time I weighed that little was in high school. And that was probably because I spent all my money on coffee and pot. I couldn't afford food.

Despite it's bad math skills, the Fit is pretty fun. I must be in good shape by now though because I don't find it to be much of a workout. So, even though she didn't help me lose any weight this week, I'll stick with Maya when I need a challenge.

At least until I can afford to dump her too replace her with a real human trainer.

(I hope she doesn't eat herself fat with all the rejection).

(Yes I do)

Well, now you're just being gross: Friday Fill-Ins

I got crap last week for not doing my Friday Fill-Ins. I didn't realize they were homework, ya'll. I guess I know what I'll be doing every. single. Friday. for the REST OF ETERNITY.

And...here we go!


1. Why do we have to shower when we're just going to get all nasty again?

2. Drinking out of the milk carton and eating food off the floor are now habits. I blame the toddler.

3. I have an appointment to get this seepage looked at tomorrow.

4. I had never heard the phrase "where's the beef" and it always makes me wonder if it's referring to a porno.

5. I just scratched it, the way I always do. I have no idea why it started bleeding.

6. How was I to know that busload of nuns was watching me pick my nose?

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to picking my toes, tomorrow my plans include chewing my fingernails and Sunday, I want to scratch my ass!

Also, I'd say don't go see any movies with Dennis Quaid in them. Except that one, but that's just to humor your future husband.

I had this post all planned for today, to participate with Funky Foto Flashbacks. But then I saw that Julie at the Cool Mom Guide has a fantastic contest going on, where you can win two video phones and 6 months of video yakkin' from Vidtel. All you have to do is blog about who you would give the other phone to. So I started to come up with a post about that. And then the two posts MELTED TOGETHER IN MY BRAIN.

So, who would I give the phone to? Myself, of course. The really young me, so we could have a few heart-to-hearts.

Okay, so it's not physically possible. But what's to say something weird couldn't happen and I could talk to myself, like in that terrible movie with Dennis Quaid?

Wait. That doesn't really narrow it down for you, does it?

Uhm...let me just google that quickly. Oh! Right. Frequency, THAT terrible movie with Dennis Quaid.

What would I say to myself?

Well, first, I would say DON'T YOU DARE PUSH YOUR LITTLE BROTHER DOWN THE STAIRS IN THAT THING.

Then I would tell Me that just because some stupid high school aptitude test tells you that you can do whatever you want, doesn't mean you shouldn't pick something. And to get in as many hugs and talks as you can, because that's what's important and what you'll remember. And that I'm right, I do have the bestest friends in the world. And that everything works out in the end, and if it hasn't worked out, it's not the end.

Also, I might mention where Mom hides the GOOD cookies, but I don't want Me to get fat so maybe not.

Clackity clack, don't come back

I was waiting for my son to finish turning into a prune in the bath tonight, and I was bored enough to be picking at my feet, and I realized there was no longer a scar on my heel. Which made me remember why there WAS a scar on my heel, which made me giggle, and then I thought I should share it with you guys.

Because I'm generous that way.

When we were teenagers, Politika and I were really cool. So cool, that we would travel to other cities to see Broadway musicals. And then wear the t-shirts with pride, because we were the friggin' EPITOME of culture.

I know, I'm aware. Shut up.

Anyway, this particular time we were going to see Les Miserables in Winnipeg. We were going to stay with Politika's aunt (I think). She was an aunt of the actual cool variety, the single kind with a job in fashion or something*, a hoppin' social life, and a pet garter snake that she kept in an aquarium on her living room floor.

We drove up and got there around dinner time. Politika's cool aunt fed us and then, because she was probably totally unnerved by the presence and responsibility of two teenage girls**, fled the apartment to do something else. She gave us a key and pointed us in the general direction of a 7-11 but made it pretty clear we were just supposed to hang out until she got back.

So we kicked off our shoes and got comfortable, but we were bored. I started tormenting Politika with one of those clackers. Remember those? They were two pieces of plastic attached to a stick that served no purpose other than CLACKING.

It was annoying the shit out of Politika so she told me to stop. Naturally I refused, and clacked the clacker in her face. She stepped toward me menacingly (did I mention she has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do?), and I, laughing, stepped backwards.

Directly INTO the aquarium on the floor.

We stared at each other in horror as glass shattered and blood started to flow. Shrieking, I bolted for the kitchen where I hoisted myself up onto the counter and immediately began running cold water over my foot, trying to see the damage. There was blood everywhere - trailing into the kitchen, on the countertop, filling the wine glasses that were in the sink.

"I can't find the snake! COME AND HELP ME FIND THE SNAKE!" Politika yelled from the living room.

"I'M BLEEDING AS FAST AS I CAN!!" I bellowed back.

Then we burst into hysterical laughter.

Eventually I stopped bleeding, and after dragging a lamp around peering into dark corners, we retrieved the (probably terrified) snake. We put him in a bowl with a book on top of it.

Then, understandably, Politika needed a nicotine fix and I was pretty sure I deserved some chocolate. So we locked up and walked to the 7-11.

During which time, naturally, Politika's aunt returned to an empty apartment, filled with blazing lights, shattered glass, and blood.

Funny, we were never invited to stay with her again.

Oh, and I think Les Miz was okay. I got a t-shirt.


(Posted in participation with Jen's Spin Cycle. Okay, so technically it's not creative writing but I did take some creative license...)

*I may or may not have just made that up.
**I may or may not be projecting a teensy bit here.

Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where my sanity is? ...Random Tuesday Thoughts

It's that time. That SPECIAL time. You know what to do.

You don't? Oh, come ON. You do so. Grab the fugly button, write a haphazard post (or a numbered one, if you're OCD like that, you're allowed), and leave your link! You know you want to!

Let us begin:

Around here, spring has finally sprung. If you count "sprung" as "warmed up enough to consider melting us out of our permafrost cocoons". Things are dripping and chirping, and we're all exiting our houses and blinking in confusion at the sun. We're looking at our neighbours, and thinking, Oh, right. YOU people.

And we're cautiously removing our bear skins jackets, and then looking down and thinking, Oh holy crap I need a wax and a pedi like, STAT!

Also, at least in my case, some kind of noxious substance to apply on my body in the hopes that it might make me appear less like a flabby white supernova.

I wonder who thought that applying bizarre chemicals directly to your skin means that you have less of a chance of getting cancer than if you go out in the sun? Personally I think you're kind of fucked either way. I'll stick with my natural skin tone of "blinding oncoming traffic".

Some search strings from Google Analytics:

"I honestly don't care".
"Honestly people don't care".
"Don't give a crap about shit".

Hm. It's really that obvious, huh?

I've noticed that ever since having my son, all the plants in my house are...kind of the worse for it. As in, I think there's one left with a breath of green on it. I used to be able to make anything grow, but apparently I can't manage to keep the kid, the dog, AND the plants all fed and maintained at the same time.

I probably shouldn't tell the dog if we ever plan to have another kid.

I need a better system for recording my blogging thoughts. I tried carrying around a notepad, but I kept leaving it behind, so every time I wanted to write something down the notepad was inevitably in the wrong location. So I got like, FIVE of them, and now they're ALL in the wrong location.

I saw these tub crayons for kids that they can use to write on the tub, each other, whatever. Considering the only time I have to myself is usually in the shower, I come up with 75% of my blogging thoughts there.

Do you think hubby would disown me if he wandered in to take a pee and was confronted with fractured (but brightly colored!) sentences like "flabby white supernova" and "plants dying, 2 things max, dog next to go hee hee!"?

Yeah, probably.

Speaking of hubby, after I poked fun at him here last week about his ambitious plans for his week off, his feelings were a little hurt. I didn't mean to trash him or anything, I was just poking fun. But apparently that means he DOES read this blog.

Or at least skims for his name. Maybe I should give him a code name, like, I don't know, Shnorgen Farfulflugel.

Too obvious?

Some of you were wondering what the hell I was talking about in yesterday's post. Maya is "My Fitness Coach", which is a game for the Wii (not the Wii Fit). And no, you can't actually tell her to go to hell. That picture may or may not have been digitally altered by someone who may or may not be me. Possibly.

On a related note, it drives me absolutely batshit crazy that JS-Kit won't let me reply directly to you guys to answer a simple fucking question.


Sooooo...before Nintendo (or JS-Kit) sues me for slandering them or misrepresenting them (or something - I'm not a fucking lawyer) and shuts this place down, belly up to the Random Bar and link your post! Happy Tuesday!

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

Pixels are out to get me

Okay, so I'm not very good at this whole starvation dieting thing. I'm still using Weight Watchers as a guide, but I keep falling off the wagon. You should see the bruises on my ass.

But the bacon diet must be working for me, because this week I lost another pound. It's slow, but I'm getting there, I swear.

I have to give SOME credit to my new personal trainer. Her name is Maya, and she lives in my TV.

I don't know what she does when I don't have the Wii turned on. My guess is she works out and thinks up evil plans for world domination through aerobics routines with an excessive amount of lunges and squats.

You know, like REAL personal trainers do.

I kind of liked her in the beginning, because her workouts seemed pretty easy, and when hubby saw how easy they were he figured he'd build his own profile. He found them kind of difficult, which made me feel just the teensiest bit smug.

Until Maya ramped it up, and handed me my ass on a platter in 30 minutes flat.

Bitch.

Anyway, I guess I'll keep meeting with her, because the price is right and I can feel like I actually DID something on those days I can't get to the gym. Plus, I have a bit of OCD when it comes to video games and now I'm going to unlock every last one of those workout locations and lame-ass musical selections if it fucking kills me.

Which it might. At the end of last session, Maya cheerily announced that the next workout would be my "fitness evaluation".

Wait, what? Nobody told me there was going to be a TEST.

I just knew their rewards program was too good to be true

I have to work all day today so I got nothin' for ya. Except this:




Yes, despite the zombie fear, I have seen Resident Evil. I'll be avoiding the Avon Lady and her "free samples".

In other news, over at the new review blog I posted about things that vibrate and oral.*


*I'm counting on you guys being too lazy to come back and give me shit because I'm not really talking about what you think I'm talking about.

It was $400, what do you expect?

I'm participating this week again in Bex's fun new photo meme over at Adventures of the Grigg Boys. This photo isn't THAT retro, it's about 15 years old. This was my first car, the Comet's less-cool sibling, the Maverick. It was brown when I got it.



Yes, it took a while. And yes, I conned some poor sod into doing most of the work FOR me. I was a 19-year-old hottie, it might as well get me a jauntily-painted vehicle.

The poor car died of embarrassment several months later. It was survived by a checkerboard van and a zebra-striped Audi.

Connoisseur du Jour

Some of you may remember last week how I was whining about my blog direction and meaning in life, and whether or not you all liked me REALLY and whether you'd continue to like me if I sold out reviewed a few products.

I know, it was pathetic.

But - luckily for me! - other people are way more proactive. Sherendipity was facing the same blogging malaise and rather than bemoaning her circumstances, she set about launching what is going to be the coolest review & giveaway site out there. And she was generous enough to let me and Michelle tag along.

There may have been, um, "favors" promised. I can't say.

Anyway, we're calling it Connoisseur du Jour, which means I'm going to have to remember how to spell connoisseur*, and we're kicking off the launch with a great giveaway of Mr. Clean products!

Yeah, okay, it's cleaning products. Good thing Sher posted that one huh? But you know you use them anyway, so why not get them for free? Check it out and follow us on Blogger and Twitter for future hilarity and free shit!

*I'm a bad Canadian. I can't speak french.

Wine and body parts: Random Tuesday Thoughts

It's that time again....I wonder how many of these things I've done? And if you added up all the random thoughts, would you get a story?

Feelin' scatterbrained and random? Need to take a mental piss before you can write properly? Grab the button, write an incohesive post, and ta-da! We can take that "does not play well with others" status off of your report card.

So, let's go!

I've recently decided that Weight Watchers can suck it when it comes to my wine during blogging. I'm just not as clever without it. It keeps up my spirits. Really, wine is essential to my success as a blogger.

Why yes, I can rationalize anything, why do you ask?

So I posted yesterday about my one over-developed ab (My keg, if you will, yes, thank you for that visual, Beth, remind me to repay you somehow) and how it's making life on that side of my body uncomfortable, but I didn't mention the various other self-diagnoses I ran through before arriving at that conclusion. Like, oh I don't know, a potentially enlarged liver. (See above). Or a lump on my lung or possibly some kind of pancreas injury.

That last one I kind of had mixed feelings about, because several many years ago in a fit of drunken hilarity (at least to us), a bunch of us all put five bucks into a pot, which was to be paid out to the first of us to require pancreatic surgery. And I totally had that $40 spent.

Yes, I have always been this demented, why do you ask?

Is it just me, or does "unoaked" shiraz taste like, well, someone shoved a bunch of grapes into an aluminum can to rot?

Hubby is off work all week because he needed a vacation. I could totally get into this "house husband" thing. So far he's cleaned the garage (um, no)
put up the drapes (wait, not quite)
done the dishes ( uh...)
finished the requirements to get our house energy efficient (okay, THAT one might even earn us money but...no.)
swept up dog hair (in his defense, there's a LOT of it)
gotten up with the toddler so I could sleep in (hmph.)
...napped on the couch and fed the toddler ice cream.

Wait. WHY does anybody have a house husband, again?

Apparently now it can't be a Tuesday, or even a day ending in -day, without me mentioning zombies, because people keep sending me links like this.

Which? Totally practical for when the time comes and all, but, maybe not so much with a toddler around.

Also, I don't know if I've mentioned this or not, but ZOMBIES FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. Stop making me think about them!

Despite all my talking about zombies here, exactly ONE google search containing the word 'zombie' has lured someone in. Yet there are all these sites and links about zombies that people are perfectly happy to send me. Which makes me conclude with scientific certainty that all zombie sites and campaigns are popularized VIRALLY.

Wait. Zombies...viral. Viral zombies. Zombies could be spread by a virus.

Crap. They don't even have to EXIST, and they're going to take over the internet.

Is there some kind of additional ingredient to "unoaked" shiraz that I'm not informed on?

This photo of my son in the bath is residing happily on Photobucket, but a photo of his naked butt got deleted. They must have an automatic "butt recognition" program or something? Who designs such software, and how is their job satisfaction? Or is it just one guy going through all the uploaded pics looking for ass crack?

Because I might need a new job. I suck at programming, but I'm good with butts.


So someone better start paying me to blog before I am sucked into the seedy world of photobucket porn. Til then, keep it random...grab the button, blather away (with or without wine, it's not mandatory, though I recommend it), and leave your link with Mr. Linky. Try to visit a few of the other participants, because everybody on this list RAWKS!

Happy Tuesday, ya'll!

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

"Ab of Steel" might be taken

I didn't do very well in the exercise & diet department this week, I was kind of a slacker. So naturally, when I weighed in today I had lost a pound, because I'd just eaten a huge pile of waffles and bacon* and THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE WHATSOEVER.

Most of this week I'd been feeling like I'd popped out a rib. Which I've done once before, when I was pregnant, and I have to say it's very uncomfortable. It didn't seem as painful as the first time, but I attributed that to the lack of largish-for-a-baby feet pushing on it from the inside.

Aaaannnnd apparently popping out a rib also causes you to eat like crap. Who knew?

Eventually, I figured out that yes, my ribcage is out of alignment and therefore feels weird, and here is why: I always carry my 30 lb toddler on one side. I do a lot of side bends and leaning over while carrying said toddler, and that has caused one half of my oblique abdominal muscles to become over developed.

Yes, that's right, I have ONE rock-hard ab.

Think I should make a fitness DVD?


*Side note: going to the gym while reeking of bacon is great entertainment value. Really, try it, and watch the entire lineup of people on the treadmills snap their heads around when you start to sweat.

Friday Fill-Ins, I'm thinking of opening a surgical practice

And...here we go!

1. Donating that kidney was my last random act of kindness. What? No, it wasn't MINE. But wasn't that nice of me anyway?

2. Another place might charge you twice what I'm asking for a skin graft. Like, TWO donkeys and a bushel of bananas.

3. I'm strictly an amateur, in matters of the heart. I mean, I can't even perform a triple bypass. Double, MAYBE.

4. Coffee, tea or doctor-recommended Red Bull?

5. I think these nerves were supposed to be on separate paths. Oops. Um, try scratching your nose for me wouldja?

6. Our nurse reminds me that there is the matter of your bill to settle before I put this lung back.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to rehearsing my speech to the jury, tomorrow my plans include defending myself during a malpractice suit and Sunday, I want to try to get my license back!


Want more Fill-Ins? Check it out.

Because that's what it's all about

Okay, I'm back. Thank you guys for delivering just the right combination of praise and "suck it up, buttercup". You guys rock. And occasionally make me snort chocolate milk out of my nose which is okay because I don't think chocolate milk is diet-approved. I'm pretty sure you ingest fewer calories if it exits your body through a nostril.

So Bex over at Adventures of the Grigg Boys has created a meme called "Funky Foto Flashback" wherein you post a "retro" photo and explain it. Or don't, whatevs. This appeals to me because a) I rarely get my poop in a group for Wordless Wednesday and b) I totally suck at being Wordless.

But it's only my first week and I'm already breaking the rules, because technically this isn't a Foto. Or even a photo. But I was hunting for a good retro flashback and I found this and I thought: THIS IS TOTALLY WHAT I NEED THIS WEEK.



Yeah, I drew that. When I was like 3. So I guess that makes it vintage, which makes me cry a little.

(Okay, a lot.)

I had it framed and up on my wall for the longest time until one of my many moves when I guess I thought it needed to be reframed, so I tucked it away with the other eight bazillion pics that are awaiting framing.

Have I ever mentioned I have a bit of a problem with follow-through on some projects?

Well, I swear I'm going to reframe it this time and hang it back up. Because doesn't everybody need a ME ME ME picture?

I thought I was over this 18 years ago. Er, I mean, 8 years ago. Yeah.

I'm having blogging angst, ya'll.

I know, right? What a stupid thing to be angsty about. Apparently I don't have much going on in my life. It's not like I fucked up my existence by buying a MONKEY or anything.

It started with the stupid comment form, which is STRESSING ME OUT. Half of you hate it, half of you love it. I don't know what to do with it. I seem to have fixed it to MY liking but I'm not the one leaving the comments.

And then, yesterday, I was all giddy because the Random Tuesday like, exploded out of the gate. And then I got an email from a PR rep asking if I wanted to review a cleaning product, which, okay, nobody is EVER going to believe I actually cleaned something, but thanks, call me when you are working with the developers of anti-zombie spray and I'm TOTALLY your girl. But that was one of the first times anybody's asked me, so I thought it was kind of neat.

So I told hubby, you know, the person who is supposed to GET ME, and he revealed to me that HE DOESN'T EVEN READ THIS BLOG.

Oh.

He reads my other blog, religiously, because it's about the cutest child in the world, but this one he "just kind of skims because it's just a bunch of friends linking to each other, right?".

Is it? I mean, is that what this blog is? I don't know. I never had a big "plan" for it, like some people do, and I never intended to make money from it, but look! I sold outslapped some ads up there anyway.

My feelings were a lot little hurt because I consider this blog to be more of "me" and the other blog to be "me playing the role of Xander's mother", so it felt like he was saying that he wasn't interested in ME anymore unless it had something to do with our son. Which, of course, is totally not what he was saying.

He's a guy. They don't do that.

But he was surprised that this blog has a larger readership. I don't even know myself why you people keep showing up here. I totally appreciate it, but it feels a little undeserved most of the time. Do you just follow me home because I comment on your blog? Are you going to wander off in disinterest if I start doing reviews?

Anyway I'm thinking maybe I'll take a couple of days off. Bex has a pretty cool meme tomorrow that I might do and of course if the Friday Fill-Ins are good this week I'll do those. And I'll be posting Xander's 17 month update in the next couple of days.

Okay, fine, I'm not going anywhere.

But I'm going to be sulky.

I have a rich fantasy life: Random Tuesday Thoughts

So, it's that time again...it occurs to me that recently I haven't really been EXPLAINING the Random Tuesday Thoughts for people coming late to the party. So I'll lay it out for you: It's Tuesday. This post has no cohesive train of thought, that is to say, it's random.

Ta da!

So if you have a bunch of little ideas rattling around in your head that can't be blog posts on their own but just won't go away, tie them together with this half-assed meme. Or if you feel the need to get all stream-of-consciousness. Or if you just want to do what all the cool kids are doing.

But you have to sit through mine first.

The guy who installed our new windows and doors recently just sent us a thank you card. Um, is this some kind of contractor etiquette I wasn't aware of? I mean, it's kind of his slow season and all but still, a card? Shouldn't we be thanking HIM?

Gah - wait - was I supposed to send HIM a card? Crap. I don't remember Miss Manners covering this one.

I've almost recovered all the i.d. I lost when my wallet was stolen. (Though I still have to start a new punch card for coffee beans, because the barista totally didn't believe me when I said they owed me a bag of beans. Who would say that if it weren't true?). Which is great and all but, now I don't actually have a wallet. So all my cards are sort of haphazardly shoved in my pockets and falling out onto the floor and never in the same place twice.

Which, now that I think about it, is way more my style.

Blogger needs an "unpublish" button. Because I'm an idiot. I think there needs to be a lot of OTHER buttons to accomodate my idiocy, too, like an "untweet" button and an "unflush" button and an "unsay" button.

Possibly a "re-live your life for the last week" button.

No news on the monkey front. To answer some of your comments, I KNOW, RIGHT?? I thought for sure you couldn't have a monkey here either but apparently you just have to pay through the nose. The discount monkey was only (!) $750 or something but it costs like another $2500 to get it all up to spec. It has to be a GOVERNMENT APPROVED monkey.

Most people just have children for the privilege of having poop flung at us. Much cheaper.

I got a notice from the Land Titles people today about a discharge in interest in my mortgage. Aside from sounding kind of gross, I'm pretty sure it just has something to do with the re-finance we did back in August, but of course the first thought through my head was: OH MY GOD SOME ANONYMOUS BENEFACTOR TOTALLY PAID OFF MY MORTGAGE.

Because I'm pretty sure that actually happens, in real life.

How cool would that be?? Think of all I could buy do with that extra cash every month!

I almost didn't say anything to hubby while I was looking at the letter but then he was all, "So does that mean someone paid off our mortgage??".

We're totally meant for each other.

JS-Kits is doing weird things to my comments. Blogger doesn't seem to think I have any, so it's not sending me notification emails, so the monkey post sat there for two hours this morning while I assumed that NOBODY LOVES ME. I had the rope all strung up and everything before I thought "maybe I should check the actual blog". And hey! You all still love me after all.

I swear, I have no fucking idea what I did for self-validation before I started blogging.

I got quoted at Blogtations! I'm totally flattered. It would have been nice if they'd chosen a quote that didn't make me sound quite so much like a raging alcoholic hosebag, but I guess you guys have figured that out on your own huh?

And, as a late addition, I just found this. I wasn't looking; someone linked to it on Facebook. I swear this shit just FINDS me now. Go on, click it and check out the larger image. THEN see if you're able to sleep tonight.

So....on that note, who wants to play? Grab the button - slap it up there, randomize your post, then come back and leave your link with Mr. Linky! And try to visit a few of the other participants - I know it's getting to be a super long list, but they're all AMAZING bloggers.

Well, almost all of them. Those people that keep leaving their link to non-RTT posts? I'm sending the velociraptors after them. They've been chained to a bunkbed for a while, and those fuckers are HUNGRY.

<a href="http://www.theunmom.com"><img src="http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb9/superkeely/randomtuesday.jpg" width="200" alt="randomtuesday" /></a>

Most people just end up with ab blasters and possibly a Snuggie

The other day hubby came home and announced that a guy he works with just bought a monkey over the internet. Why? Because they were 75% off. And he obviously has some impulse control issues.

He's suffering buyers remorse but all the other employees are eagerly anticipating the arrival of this primate. Which, obviously, is because THEY don't have to live with it.

Personally I can't help but be concerned for the poor monkey. I mean, I don't know if I've mentioned this once or twice or eight bazillion times, BUT IT IS FUCKING COLD HERE. Like, arctic wasteland make-your-testicles-crawl-up-into-your-body-until-you-have-four-tonsils kind of cold. No monkey is going to survive, never mind a DISCOUNT monkey.

(Because I'm SURE the heavy markdown was because of the tanking economy or they had an overstock of creatures with opposable thumbs or something. Not because there's something WRONG with it. Why would you think that?).

(Also, it's boring here. I hear monkeys like to be entertained, but there's nothing to do here, unless you could ordering bizarre fauna over teh intertubes after a few martinis. But those people just make their own fun).

I've tried to find this website he bought it from, too (and NOT because I was going to see if one of you wanted to go halvsies on an orangutan. Don't be silly), and I've come to the conclusion that it only appears at 4am when you're drunk off your nut, because I cannot find it. I even tried googling "exotic animals you might possibly purchase while drunk off your nut". I've no idea why that didn't work.

Meanwhile Paul's staff is organizing a welcome committee for this poor thing and practising their "Awim-a-weh"s.

It really IS boring here.