Text messaging support groups leave something to be desired.

Me: My kid has spent the majority of the day in time out.  He's in a really fun new 'hitting' phase.  Halp.

FoN: Explain to him that hitting is wrong.  That should work.

Me: Gee, I hadn't thought of that.

FoN: That's what I'm here for.

FoN: Fucking (local footballl team that was playing at the time).  They are frustrating.

Me: Just explain to them that they should try harder to win.  That should work.

FoN: Oh, right.  thanks.

Me: That's what I'm here for.

FoN: Word.

Me: Or you could just not care.  That works for me.

FoN: It's working! They're winning now!

Me: Word.

Oh, I don't know, something about zombies: Random Tuesday Thoughts

So, I re-did the Random Tuesday button.  What do you think?

(Note: I didn't say I de-uglified it.  It's still purple.  And there's still a ham on there.  TRADITIONS, people.)

There is definite weirdness going on with the link, though - in theory I should have eradicated ALL of the old fugly purple buttons, and replaced them with the new fugly purple buttons.  But the old ones are still showing up.  They're a little like an insidious disease. 

So I'm sorry if you're diseased.

The other day I pulled up behind a car that had no less than 6 sparkly pink stickers that proclaimed it's owner "SPOILED".

It was an early 90s Chevy Caprice.

I kind of wanted to leave a dictionary as a gift.    I probably could have hefted one through the missing window.

So most of you were pretty skeptical about my "advice column" idea.  And asked a lot of questions about mayonnaise.  But then someone asked a question that I HAVE AN ANSWER TO, so now I have to go through with the whole thing just to prove to you guys that I am a font of useless information.

(Also, that I can be a know-it-all jackhole.  But you probably already suspected as much.)

You should probably help me out.  You can use the 'contact me' form on the right to ask a question anonymously, if you're not comfortable posting it publicly.  Go on with your shameful queries, you dirty birds.

Don't make me answer some of the stuff that gets people here via google:

...even though those people clearly need help.

Drinkers outlive non-drinkers.  Booyah.

How did you guys spend your labor day?  I spent mine dicking around on the internet, and playing the new(ish) Going Rogue content on my beloved City of Heros MMO (which is, essentially, more dicking around on the internet).  If there's a Creator, that's probably as they intended it.  Slacking is good for the soul.

Last week there were car eyelashes.  This week, the Y chromosome contingent felt left out, so there are car moustaches.

(I'm not sure why the only colors available are black or HOT PINK.)

There are changes, changes afoot in the casa del Un Mom.  Hubby is taking classes; I may have a job opportunity.  It's enough to make a person giddy.

(That could also be the wine.)

Anybody remember my New Years commitment to Two Week Resolutions?  No?  Good.

Hubby posted the trailer for the upcoming TV version of Walking Dead earlier, and I felt obliged to watch it. 

I'm no longer sure that he loves me.

...but you guys still love me, right?

PROVE IT! Get your Random on!

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If he's going to get kicked out, it should be for something classic, like pranking the Dean

I love higher learning. I love the vibe of universities and colleges, the creative energy. They're a hotbed of information and social activity. I love to learn.

Sadly for me, we've determined that this time, it's hubby's turn to go get edumacated. It's for the greater good - getting him the hell out of the restaurant industry. (Can you imagine? Working jobs on the same schedule? Having *gasp* more than 30 minutes in a day to converse? The wonder of it all.)

So today he was there talking to the registrar about his options, and he sent me this photo from the bathroom. Clearly, the vibe at university has changed.

Let's hope he can follow the rules, shall we?

You could call it the When Angsty Renaissance FairsTurn Into Obscure Orgies Blog, or something. Though I'm sure that's kind of a niche market.

Someone left this comment on a really old post of mine, and I've been snickering over it for a few days. I mean, it's even odder than the spam comments I get linking to blue cheese. Is this how budding romance authors spread the word about their writing now?

Grateful, he wrapped his arms around his friend and buried his face in his neck. His throat worked to swallow, and a fine sheen of sweat shimmered on his skin. He nodded, slid an arm about Irins shoulders, and led his truemate from the room. But she knew firsthand that knowing and seeing it happen were two very different things. Someones strong arms surrounded her, and a broad chest met her cheek. She glanced away before her visual admiration sparked lust. She had neither seen nor asked after Tykir, Lanthan, nor Brevin. Gala sat back, hands on Eyrhaens shoulders. Blue eyes stared at her from an expressionless face. Anything but admit she was wrong, even if she now knew she had been. He smiled at her glare, the red simmering behind the hazel of his eyes. Stubbornly, she refused to cower into the wall behind her. A gasp puffed past her lips as Lanthan pressed a kiss just underneath her ear. She writhed, prodding the tip of him with her drenched folds. he growled into her ear. Behind her, Tykir nestled close, his cheek resting on the back of her shoulder. He tilted his face back up toward her. He shared in her laughter, and she gloried at how easy it was. But she needed to know one more thing. She met his gaze seriously.

If that's the case, you might want to consider leaving your name, Anonymous.

(Or just get your own damn blog!)

(Seriously, "drenched folds"?)

Whimsical design has no place in parenting, thankyouverymuch

This is my 2-year-old's winter jacket.

I know, right?

There's no WAY the cell phone we got him is going to fit in there.