your thursday morning breakdown

1. look at the expression on the (assumingly male) kid peeking over shoulders in the back row. i believe the word he is looking for is "ouch".

2. nice pair of bronzed paperweights. and that's as far as i'm going with those.

3.guess which one is saying: "hmmm......i'm pretty sure i know this penis, the name is on the tip of my tongue"

4. and lisa's question (since it is thanks to her i'm looking at penis' at 5am): "OMG, Is that thing REAL?"

they came upon a midnight bleary...

ok...so i'm sitting here looking at that stupid picture of some drunk girl (hee) down there and i'm thinking to myself that i really need to make another entry, if only to bump that silly picture.  as i'm looking at it i realize that i never told the story of that night, and it's one of my favorite stories to tell at parties (eyeroll). so here ya go:

i have great neighbors - i am very lucky that way...we have a tight-knit group that not only looks out for each other, but also probably peeps in each others' windows late at night.  i say probably only because i haven't completely convinced myself that i'm the only one that does that. we are very close with one set of neighbors and we often spend evenings of wine and song with them; we also have some fairly new neighbors that i still haven't quite figured out yet...she is very sweet and quiet but kicks it up a notch with a bit of wine.  he...let's just say, is rather chauvinistic at best.  nice enough guy, just haven't really figured him out yet.

i do have other neighbors i like to hang out with, but on this particular night it was the 6 of us with a shitload of kids in tow.  my house, Christmastime of last year, fire blazing, holiday music on, a veritable plethora of delicious nosh items, spiced cider and hot chocolate for the kids...got the picture?  ok...oops, forgot to add approximately 9 chilled bottles of chardonnay.  yea, 9 - hey other people may show up, i may drop a bottle or 5, you just never know and really, can you have too many bottles of white wine on ice?  work with me here...

i had, i thought, very appropriately appointed myself lead wine pourer and maker-surer that no one ever had an empty glass.

*raise your hands if you think you know where this story is going..aaaand now moving on.*

everyone is eating and drinking and having a fabulous time.  at some point the chauvinist (for reasons still completely unknown to me or anyone else that was sober at that point) manages to slip into the conversation that i was "just a woman with issues". what the fuck does that even mean? and excuse me...new neighbor - you, probably (but maybe not) the most unissued person on the block - me.  whatever dude, drink my wine,  eat my food, try really hard not to insult me in the next 3 minutes and we'll be golden. sweetly, to take the heat off of me i'm sure, he told the other neighbor that he's pretty sure she has an eating disorder and she really should eat a cheeseburger sometime.  (ok, i may have embellished that a bit - those may not have been his exact words, but hey...i'm a woman with issues - it's what i think i thought i heard). yea...a real gem. but in his defense, he was on the money - she really does look like she should introduce something disgustingly unhealthy to her diet, say once a month...the way i see it, a burger would be a good a place to start as any.

at this point we'll have to fast forward as i must have been "dropping" bottles left and right because i had to keep opening more. and of course my glass couldn't be empty - what the hell kind of pourer/maker-surer would i be if it was?  now, a non-woman with issues might have just carried around a full glass and not drained it so she could fill her glass everytime she filled someone else's, but hey.  there are bit and pieces of the night's entertainment that i can fill in - one neighbor (remaining nameless but she was notably NOT holding a cheeseburger) showed off her cheerleading skills from days gone...shall we say, WAY by.  she was very intent on explaining exactly what cheer she was going to do when her husband pipes in with "ok, but try not to fart like last time".  this may have been where i "dropped" a few bottles of wine because this was quite possibly the funniest thing i have ever heard in my life.

from here on out i rely upon dale's version of what happened, yea...evidently somebody felt that the wine pourer needed to be poured into bed. i'm told it had something to do with me making the dog almost bite me and falling asleep on the couch - whatever killjoy. so he excuses me - because he is truly sweet like that - and herds me off to bed.  he drops my drawers and tucks a giggling me into bed - not sure what was so funny but i get the impression that even though he tried really hard, he was unable to find the humor in it. a short time later, cheeseburger is missing me and climbs in bed with me, she lays there in the dark for a minute telling me how much she truly loves me and wants to give me a hug.  she pats around the bed trying to find me and quickly becomes convinced that either i had been abducted by gang of suicidal, yet sex-crazed, dread locked, transvestite goth/emo kids (it could happen, none of us can completely rule it out) or dale hadn't secured me to the bed properly and i had wandered off.

upon rallying dale's help, the two of them went on a shawna-hunt only to find that i had left my bedroom, apparently of my own free will (false alarm, you goth kids settle down now), and walked down the hall to the most vile and disgusting place on the face of the planet, my kids' bathroom. apparently i was looking for something in there that required me to lock the door and sit on the floor next to the toilet.  now, i'm fairly certain that in real life i wouldn't sit on the floor next to that toilet for all the free-fresh-off-the-rack krispy kreme glazed doughnuts in the kingdom of Heaven, but evidently it was there that my quest dictated i go, so i really had no choice.

apparently, having refused to cut my "search" short, i was momentarily left alone while dale tended to our guests as they readied themselves for the dangerous drunken walk home.  because the entry way of my house has a straight shot line of vision to the nasty place which is the kids' bathroom, i will forever consider it an immense show of mercy on God's part for putting the coveted cloak of invisibility upon my drunken - clad in absolutely nothing but a black (victoria's-secret-seamless-100%cotton-comes-in-a-variety-of-colors-i-just-happen-to-like-black-and-wow-is-it-ever-so-comfortable) thong - ass allowing me to wobble back to the haven that is my bed undetected, sans scarring any children for life or giving the neighbors yet another "issue" to unjustifiably heap upon me - this one being my penchant for doing a pathetically choreographed striptease in front of Christmas guests simply because i'm such an attention-whore.

far as i can tell, it was a great party and everyone had a great time...we did, in fact, manage to drink 9 bottles of wine between the 6 of us.  one neighbor came home from work the next day at lunchtime to puke and take a nap, another two neighbors personally thanked me for being such a great hostess (pfffttt - what the hell kinda parties did these people usually attend?), my man took me to get the obligatory weinerschnitzel chili-cheese dog - only the best hang over food known to man, while the fourth, and still nameless, guest nursed her hangover with two carrots sticks and a glass of water with a mona-vie back.

just say no, people...

to plumber's crack, that is. can you really not feel the breeze? do you look in the mirror in the morning and say to yourself, "that is one fine ass-crack...darn shame to not share it."? we really don't need to see it - even if it is a good one (notice i said "need" instead of "want"...i have this freaky ass fetish, i simply cannot look away when presented with one. train wreck majora. alrighty then, moving on.).

i'm pretty sure my life is now complete having experienced not only 6" of an old-hairy-really-fat-and-doughy butt-crack on mother's day at my local walmart; but also most of a tattooed-on-both-cheeks-with-one-huge-maryj-leaf-including-the-stem-and-seeds-atop-white-as-a-freaking-ghost ass at the thirsty-thursday swap meet.

general consensus is that i can pretty much die a fulfilled woman now, no?

you are just lucky he's tired right now.

winston is such a dick.

don't get me wrong...i love him with all the heart, but he's got an attitude the size of texas.

ok, so he's a little dude with a little dude complex. he despises the cats, but only shows it when they turn their backs. he growls at the birds when they squawk, but at a safe distance of 5 feet. he mad mugs buddy from 'his' side of the glass door, but curls his tail and cowers in fear when he's outside with him. he's a dick - plain and simple.

he and big bit (also known as fat-pat-the-androgynous-cat) have a love/hate thing going on...she loves to fuck with him and he hates the fact that she wastes oxygen by breathing it. she is always close by wherever he is...he watches her from the corner of his eye, constantly wary. when she gets up to move, he gets all bad-ass and lunges at her; stopping short, of course, of actually reaching her. she, being the smartass 'ho that she is, will often turn at the last possible second and lunge back...resulting in a shocked yelp from him, a i-will-fuck-you-up hiss from her and then the chase begins. usually her after him, but sometimes he 'nads up and gets her running. this is all cute and silly unless it happens to be 3am and they are laying on the bed with me.

he gets all shitty when something like a cat or a bird or another dog happens to even glance at his food dish. he races to it and stands there with his face buried in the bowl until the threat passes. keep in mind that the food that is in the bowl wasn't even mildly interesting to him 3 seconds ago, but now it's suddenly manna from Heaven. the food dish happens to sit next to the water dish, which everyone shares...God forbid a cat want a drink when there is food in winston's dish. after the threat is removed, he again wanders away from the bowl and returns to his couldn't-give-a-shit-about-that-crap-you-tell-me-is-food attitude, while sitting "pretty" for a bite of my fruity pebbles.

the birds really freak him out. cause they're LOUD. disturbing kind of loud, bleeding from the ears loud, especially when someone has flown the coop (and is running in circles on the floor trying to figure out how they went from their nice cozy home base to another planet in 2 seconds - good GAWD don't run past his food bowl, you idiot!) and they are tattling on them. sometimes larry bursts into his 'mockingbird' rendition of somewhere over the rainbow and the crowd goes wild...but i digress. winston will sometimes growl at them, but he generally keeps his distance. until i wheel their cage outside. as they are moving AWAY from him and out the door, he starts giving them the what-for about how lucky they are they he allows them to live...dancing around, barking at them and telling them to just get the fuck out.

then there's the car. winston LOVES to ride in the car. he's a little intense - leaping back and forth from window to window making sure he doesn't miss anything. will sometimes bark fiercely at particularly loud vehicle - of course he waits until it is almost PAST us before he starts talking shit. he growls at other dogs as we pass, letting them know that he IS a badass motherfucker and it's a good thing they are out there and not in here. cause...you know. "i could fuck you up. probably i wouldn't do it, cause that's not really how i roll...but i could if i wanted to. so just consider yourself lucky is all i'm sayin'." he also navigates quite divinely. he will perch by one of my shoulders (still vigilant of course, constantly looking around making sure he's detected all signs of danger and quashed them) to make sure i'm going in the right direction. he sometimes leans left or right, depending on where i should turn. he's only gotten us lost a few times and those were NOT his fault. he couldn't do two things at once, i guess and probably was off tending to some particularly nasty danger when i stupidly made a wrong turn.

but more annoying than being in the car with winston is getting to the car at all. he knows the signs; he hears the keys jingle, he sees the purse go over the shoulder, he knows which hat is for driving...he's verrrrrry observant. now, he does know to sit and wait to be invited to go and it's tough on him. one day he will probably have a heart attack from just that strain alone. he is pretty good about staying when i tell him to and when i give him the let's go, he unfailingly peels out, taking a full 5 seconds to even find traction as he races out the door. i generally open the back car door for him and he usually makes it in on the first jump...he has been known to ram into an unexpected backpack or kid that happens to be in the way, and when this happens he hits so hard he actually seems to hover midair before falling onto the concrete. he scrambles to get upright, shakes it off and does it again.

when i DON'T want him to go and i'm already outside, having given the stay order, and a kid comes out to get in the car, he takes full advantage of what he must consider to be the 'simple' ones, by barrelling past them and leaping into the car. sometimes i let this pass, but rarely because it just pisses me off. getting him out of the car at this point is a real bitch. he will get as far away from me as possible (uhh...it's a suburban, i've lost kids in there), and i generally have to climb in and drag the little fucker out.

this morning (wow...took me awhile to get here, LOL!) the girl and i head out to go to school, winston gets to go and is, in fact, already in the car when my neighbor comes out and suggests he take brynn because he's taking his daughter and might as well, right? cool...save me a trip i can get started on my chores. well, winston doesn't buy it...he's sure i am once again reneging and just trying to get him out of the car so i can leave without him. so over to the other side of the car he goes, telling me "you go to hell, you promised me a ride and i. am. NOT. getting out!" my hands are full of shit like coffee, keys, purse, paper whatever, and i can't drag him out, so i just slammed the car door, and went into the house. i waited a couple of minutes, put my keys and my purse away and went back out...i see him standing in my seat, paws on the wheel, ready to drive if he has to, gawd dammit and as soon as he sees me he scrambles to the far left back of the car. OH-EM-GEE he's a fart. i ended up leaving him in the car for about 30 minutes, after which he happily agreed to get out in exchange for a big dog biscuit...

it's a really big biscuit which he can't eat - it's too big and i gave it to him just to fuck with him. before you go all whiney and call PETA on me, know this: he is perfectly happy guarding it with his life against any and all domestic and/or global terrorist attacks that may occur, even though he can't enjoy it himself. so see? i gave him a PURPOSE. my work here is done.

just say no to crack.

picture this: it's a lovely 90 degree day last weekend and dell and i had been out yard-sale-ing. we had borrowed my neighbor's pickup so that we could use it and the suburban to haul home a bunch of furniture we picked up. the suburban had all the windows rolled up and was stuffed to the gills with cushions and a whole mess of other carp - i couldn't have added a kid if even i had a wild hair and wanted to. the sub is parked across the street from my house and we have just finished unloading the pickup. while d goes to return it to the neighbor, i cross the street and hop into my car. as soon as the door clicked it hit me---my door handle is broken and i have to roll down my winder to open it from the outside---shit. left the keys in the garage, can't roll down the window. did i mention the cushions? and the closed windows? oy. i start to pound on the window trying to get d's attention as he's walking to the pickup - nope, can't hear me. still picturing, stay with me? after sitting there for a couple of minutes debating on whether or not i really wanted dale to come back and find me a prisoner of my own stupidity - being held captive by my car and 2 tons of cushiony material, i decided i'll rescue myself, dammit. i popped the rear window with a switch on the dash (thank God i got THAT fixed awhile back) and army-crawled across the top of the cushions, scraping my back along the headliner of the car while big booty mountain switched on the occasional reading light along the way. by the time i got to the window i was all sweaty, my hair was absolutely everywhere and my sans-a-belts had scooched down my hips far enough to show butt-crack. had anyone been standing there when i popped out, i imagine ace ventura fighting his way out of the elephant's ( rhino?) ass would have come to mind. sweet sweet freedom. now, do i tell dale of my mortifying adventure while he was chatting up the neighbor or do i keep it all to myself.

myself, it is.

i'll take it with salt, no butter please.

my 8-1/2 year old grill is in a lovely, please-pay-attention-to-me-at-least-18-hours-a-day-or-else-i-will-loudly-interject-some-random-word-into-the-conversation-that-you-are-having-with-someone-else stage.

one particular word happens to be the family code for it now because while visiting my gram (who is old and really cannot tolerate sharp loud noises) a couple of months ago, my girl was evidently not getting enough attention and just belted out, as loud as she could...

"POPCORN! HEY, I WANT POPCORN!!!"she interrupted approximately 3 different conversations that were going on around her, without her. by the look my sweet old gram gave brynn, i could tell she totally wanted to say "what the fuck is WRONG with you, over?"

at any given time, the attention-getter could be a loud noise, a random word, an action, a statement, an article of clothing - anything that effectively stops all surrounding activities and draws all attention instantaneously to you. doing this in our house this now causes everyone within earshot to stop what they are doing, scream "POPCORN!!!" at you and then go back to whatever they were doing before being so rudely drawn off-task. this simultaneously gives you the attention that you so pathetically crave - obviously to the point that you don't even care if peeps get pissed off at you in your attempt to get it - and tells you to bugger off all in a neat little one-word package.

brynn (the one who does this the most) generally refers to some sort of food that she wants; braden has revealed his "popcorn" as a huge (and oh, do i mean huge - kid's running 6'2", a buck-sixty) full-on flop to the floor at your feet accompanied by a loud grunt; and bennett happens to be currently perching one of those personalized, stitched pirate's hats from disneyland on the top of his head, one that apparently used to belong to some swarthy, tiny-headed, badass named Captain Carl.

oy. you can't make this shit up.

in the heat of the night...

found this way cool old Royal typewriter at the thrift store the other day, brought it home and set it up on my way cool desk that i found at the same thrift store. the desk is across from my bed next to a window in my room... sleeping peacefully at around 3am tho nights ago when my cat decides to begin working on her kitty-memoirs. tap-tap-tap-click-click. tap-tap-click-tap. click-tap-click-tap-tap-tap. WTF...are you serious right now? she is tapping on the typewriter keys - walking over them, pushing them with her nose? i yell at her to stop and throw a pillow at her. i hear her bell tinkling as she jumps to the ground, so i know i startled her...hopefully for good. cheese an rice...GOOD NIGHT! tap-tap. click. OMG, what a snot! i yell at her and chuck another pillow in the direction of the desk as i roll over, finding myself face-to ass with the cat. hunhh? if she's right next to me...? OMG my new typewriter is HAUNTED!!! uhhh...yea, that actually went through my head just before i reached for the light to discover that i had left the window open and what i was hearing wasn't, in fact, my brilliantly gifted cat, but the wind tapping the blind against the sill. duh. i knew it all along. for rice sake, how have i lived this long without being officially committed?

baby, baby don't get hooked on me...

where has the time gone anyway? ok, so it's been awhile since i blogged and instead of wasting space giving a buncha bs reasons why, i'll just move forward with a quick little story that i call: "some of my friends are shitheads..."

background check: i have cockatiels that lay eggs every once in awhile - well, one of them does for certain (she's hot for me - what can i say?), not sure about the other one - i'm assuming that they are both females, as i've never actually seen them have bird-sex and the eggs have always been sterile. anyway, she lays them and then stresses out over them for weeks, so for shits and giggles, i usually put a nesting box in there when someone starts to lay and whoever's laid it goes a bit bonkers for the next couple of weeks continuing to lay eggs, rolling them around with her beak to get them in the perfect spot and then sitting on them and puffing up whenever anyone comes near her nest. eventually i take out the nesting box, fry up the eggs and feed them to the dogs, then all in our little bird-world is right again.

really wanting to raise baby cockatiels, i borrowed Al, a cantankerous male cockatiel, for a couple of weeks in the hopes that his presence would get my girls going and we could have some babies. Al was just spitting mean. had to wear leather gloves to rescue him whenever he jumped his dumb ass off of the cage because he bites - asswipe. anyway, the girls didn't seem to care much about Al one way or another...towards the end of his stay, one of them started sticking her hoo-ha into the air and most definitely begging for some lovin'. unfortunately we had at least one or ten of many possible roadblocks: maybe there are gay cockatiels out there and i found at least one; maybe the girls just weren't sexy enough for Al; maybe Al was a typical male-creature and couldn't read the oh-so-obvious "give me babies, please" signs and thought she was just bitching at him; maybe she was just bitching at him and that rendered him a limp noodle as he just couldn't be expected to actually perform under those stressful conditions; or maybe...just maybe my girls didn't care for Al's big i'm-a-bad-ass attitude. as i said, could have been many things. regardless, i reluctantly took Al back to his real home in isabella and resigned myself to no baby birds.

upon returning from the weekend, i found an egg very ungracefully plopped at the bottom of the birdcage. GASP! could it be? could Al have been the stud i had hoped for? i need to get busy and get her nesting box ready! yay, i may have babies after all! whoo-hoo!

long story short, i had trouble creating my usual nesting box, as i have given them a new cage recently...so off to petsmart to get a "real" nesting box. still excited! bring it home, stress everybody out setting it up and then sit back to watch what happens. mama bird gets in the box and i can hear her pushing around the egg - back and forth, back and forth it rolls until she gets it where she wants it and sits on it, all puffy and protective. waiting, waiting - should have more eggs soon - tap, tap, tap. nothing. week goes by. shit, should have more eggs. mama is sitting plenty, but not laying more eggs. hmmm, egg does look a bit bigger than usual, maybe that's all she could do this time...maybe she put all her eggs in one basket, heh heh heh. well, guess there's just the one this time. that's cool, better than none - now let's wait to see if it's fertile.

every couple of days i check the egg with a flashlight in the pantry. should soon be able to see activity in there...you know veins and such. getting kinda impatient. nothing. tap, tap, tap. hmmm...been about 10 days - should definitely be seeing something by now. sigh. guess i just wasn't destined to have a baby Al after all. brynn still wants to bring in her friends to look at the cute little (kinda big) egg, no problem - hurry cause i'm gonna toss it. kiki from next door comes in all oohing and awwing over the egg and says, "huh, it looks a lot like that mourning dove egg my mom found laying out in the street and put in here a couple of weeks ago when you were gone - weird huh? i guess they all look the same..."

bitch.

restless nights and busy days

CRAP! i have been sleeping like shit lately. i get these lovely night sweats that can be controlled with my clothing and bedding choices, but figuring out what the formula is taking the weather into account is a real bitch. i wake up freezing me arse off and then have a hard time getting back to sleep afterwards. ok enough whining about that.

moving on...

had a ton o' company for about 7 days last week and i think i'm still recuperating, LOL! my house hasn't fully recovered either. but whatever. i had a blast and got to do some quality visiting with my homegrill leaf and a couple of other humboldt honeys along with all of their kids. loads of beer and margis, good food, late nights and side-splitting laughter. my gut still aches and i'm a laugher, just imagine.

my sub took it's second dump since the first of the year. crap-cicles on a stick, this bill was $2200 and i STILL don't have permission to unload it. Disney says he cannot afford another car payment on top of his dumbass BMW payment of almost $700/month. what a douche. i'm driving around in my gas-guzzler (spending well over $100/week in gas), 132K mile suburban that costs easily $3000/year in repairs and maintenance, while he cruises in his, completely impractical, manliness-compensating $60,000 luxury car. this is an ongoing argument with us. the sub is paid off with very little resale value left. he says drive it until it dies (hopefully this doesn't occur in the #3 lane of I-5 at a speed of 80 mph hauling not only my kids, but loads of others as well.). i say unload it in while it is running well (because it will definitely NOT run well again soon) and still holds some trade-in value. but, being that i'm "not good at school", it's understandable that my view is completely stupid and rather womanish, and therefore begs to be discarded without any thought. damn chodesmoker.

what else you ask? let's see - trying to build a fucking website that i have absolutely no clue about. godaddy's custie service rocks...i've made mistake after mistake and they just plod me along telling me what to do rather than where to go, LOL! i see the light at the end of the tunnel after being down for a couple of weeks now. hopefully i can get my traffic back. ah well, it's all good.

been working on a project for fleck using one of her RoundMaps. it must be perfect so it's got me a bit jumpy - but i'm liking how it's shaping up. i have to keep walking out and then back in again for fresh perspectives. one thing i can always count on fleck for (aside from the constant flow of her 'queen's bullshit) is never-failing inspiration with her sketches as well as her artwork. she now has her new book, PageMaps for Scrapbooking, out there.  i know a few peeps still waiting for the bookstores to get more in stock. you go, grillfriend! check her awesomeness at www.pagemaps.com.

gotta run, brats need me. sigh. i keep telling them that food is way overrated

it's a great day - to wipe some kitty's ass...

anyone else spend 20 minutes this morning trying to cut fresh shit out of the ass-fur of a wildcat?

no?  what a surprise...just me.

over the river and through the woods: the first evening

took a road trip this past weekend. wasn't enough to take my three kids on a 9+ hour trek to gram's house. nope, decided to invite my niece and nephew along for the ride as well. i prepared dale as best i could and he assured me he still wanted to go - was excited to go, no less. yea, ok. we'll see how you feel in two days, champion.

got all my ducks in a row, motel resies made, clothes washed and packed, phone calls made warning folks that it hadn't been the nightmare of all nightmares, i really was going to show up and it really would be loud. i picked the kids up from school on friday afternoon and waited for d to arrive so we could take off. i had made plans with the disney guy to take care of the pup while we were gone (i wasted calling in a marker on that, dammit, but more on that some other time), because, where i may be a bit off, i'm not completely stoopit - i did not want to deal with her on top of everything else, plus she takes up a lot of room. and she has gas. eye-bleeding horrible gas. truly, i get enough of that from my kids.

we arrived in the lurvely town of anderson, CA (where we would pick up the extra two mouths to feed) at around midnight after an uneventful 5 hour drive. i had made a reservation (using a 2001 AAA travel book, silly me) at a two-star (read: cheap, but not necessarily life-threatening) motel that had advertised a free continental breakfast. we checked into our room which, while being a tad sparse, seemed clean enough for our hamburger-helper tastes. we did find out the next morning that either the AAA book flat out lied or something had definitely changed because the "free continental breakfast" consisted of some lukewarm coffee and...well, some sugar for those who prefer to grace their joe with it. in all fairness they did offer some rather greyish looking bananas or nasty lemon-jelly pastries for "each 50 cent". needless to say, we decided to skip this veritable plethora of goodness and went in search of a subway. now in the matter of hours that we had been away from home, we had discovered that i forgot my shoes (so me) and my toothbrush. bennett had broken his i-pod earphones and was having a serious freak-out because he couldn't drown out the sounds of his family's incessant breathing in and out, and my niece had decided she really wanted to take up crocheting this weekend (because she knows her aunty shawna can rock a crocheted blanket), but had no hook. or yarn. off to walmart and no shit, they had a subway.

getting about a 2 hour later start than we had hoped for (and therefore, leaving right on time), we started out across the beautiful klamath mountain range in search of snow and eventually, hopefully grandmother's house.

gah. 7 is such a dorky number.

do you remember the day that you looked at one of your kids and said "good God, when did he/she turn into such a complete dork?"? ok, maybe those of you not in the running for the MOTY award have never experienced this, but each and (now) every one of my kids have hit this stage and jeez it is almost unbearable to watch.

my dot is currently walking around with the phone stuck to her ear talking with a friend that lives down the street. she is walking around and around in circles talking absolute dork-speak. in the last 10 minutes she has informed her friend that her dog farted and it smells really bad; that her cat farted earlier and it sounded like this: "puhh"; she has stopped the middle of her conversation to ask me what time her brothers go to bed so her friend can be completely up-to-date; she is doing (her version) of plies and falling into furniture; she has put her friend on the speaker phone and let her listen to a TV commercial; she has passed the phone to her brother so he can talk to her friend and then shrieked for it back...was i ever this much of a dork?

in all fairness, i do remember doing one particular thing that, in retrospect, has GOT to be the stupidest, most retarded thing ever done by two girls...kathy and i would spend the day together at school, ride the bus home and do our homework together, hang out together until dark and then walk each other halfway home. now being the observant geeks that we were, we discovered (probably took a year or two) that, in the middle of the street, at the halfway mark between our houses, there was a manhole cover. here we would stop and gab a bit more, (because you know there was never enough time to say everything we had to say to each other) and then we did this bizarre little ritual that i can't believe i am about to expose to the world. sigh...here goes.

we would stand on the manhole cover facing each other. one of us would bend at the waist and yell, "i'm a BONER!" and the other would do this weird contortion that involved hands clasped above the head and feet together with knees bent out to the sides and yell, "i'm a NU-NU!" and collapse in hysterical laughter before we collected ourselves and raced home to call each other on the phone.

seriously. totally seriously. what the fuck?

must. stop. apologizing.

i'm beginning to accept the fact that i just plain and simple blow at some things. sometimes i blow because i don't try hard enough. sometimes i blow because my brain and/or my body can't keep up with my intentions - which are generally good. but sometimes, sometimes...one just blows for the inexcusable sake of blowing.

i am a pleaser, and by extension an apologizer. this comes to my attention as i threaten to shock-collar treatment my dot if she says "sorry" one more time. seems no matter who says what to her, that's almost always the first word outta her mouth. for example, i say "thank you for cleaning up the cat poop that your dog snacked on in the kitchen" and she will say (with plenty of 'tude) , "well, SAW-REE, at least i cleaned it up!"; one of her brothers will say (ok, yell), "hey brynn, will you turn down the music?" and she will sweetly reply in her little girl voice "JEEZ...SAW-REE! you guys play it loud all the time"; once i called her to me to see how she was feeling saying "sis, your tum still feeling funny?" and she thought i said something about stealing money and about burst into tears, squeaking out "SAW-REE! i didn't do it, dad gave me that, i pinky-swear, mom!" took me a bit to figure out what the hell had just happened (bottom line is, whatever she was talking about she was sure as hell telling the truth - you don't just throw that pinky-swear thing out there without being able to back it up.), she may have been a bit paranoid about the money thing as she has been known to lift a sawbuck or two from others, but my point is that somewhere along the line she has become annoyingly apologetic. i realize that there are worse things for her to say out of habit. granted, "sorry" certainly has carries bonus points over "fuck you", but you must get my point. she doesn't even listen to what is being said before she blurts out how sorry she is.

i'm now becoming aware that i apologize all the time myself. someone backs into me and i'm sorry for getting in the way. i'm riding in someone's car and they hit a bump and slosh my coffee---oops, sorry should have anticipated that pothole. after letting the phone ring 15 times, someone answers the second i finally hang up...shit-sorry! hair-goddess has to fix my 'do because i trimmed it crooked while trying to get a piece of hair she had left hanging in my eye. i pay her enough to feed a small eastern country to cut my hair perfectly and i'm sorry? i leave behind two plates while cleaning the table off as my hands are too full as it is, and someone brings them into the kitchen after me. sorry about that, should have balanced my load better so you wouldn't have to help me. seriously. wtf?

so, the beginning of my quest to end the unnecessary apologizing is here. this all started because i was going to apologize for not updating my blog in the last month. well screw that. i'm really not sorry, i've been a busy little buffalo this last month. it's not like i've been sitting around with my feet up whilst others wait on me hand and foot. well ok, part of the time i did that, but mostly i was really physically exhausted and mentally incapacitated by responsibilities---responsibilities that i brought upon myself, but still they needed tending to and i managed to tend and survive and now i'm here to update you all. instead i rambled on about something stupid and mundane and wasted all the time i have to catch everyone up...sorry.

junkin'

last weekend i took the kids to isabella. sunday we planned on riding, but we had most of saturday open - so round about 8am, i took ms b and mr braden junkin'. lake isabella/south lake has a hit-or-miss swap meet every weekend when the weather is nice and they generally have a few yard sales dotted around town as well.

now i don't know about you, but d and i have checked out all of the so-called "swap meet/flea markets" around here and they all have the same stuff. the *cough* vendors go to the *cough* dollar store and bring it out to sell. mostly new, packaged stuff - cheeseball ostrich skin cowboy boots and new knock-off brand denims (wonderfully displayed on the biggest bubble-assed mannequins i have every seen - once dared d to come up behind one and rub on it...'nother story). tons of raiders stuff, tons of banners and humongous belt buckles and hats and flags and remote controlled cars and car seat covers. okay, i don't know what to call these "gatherings", but they are not flea marts, they are not swap meets. these people have ruined flea marts. what happened to the junk that peeps used to haul from their garages and set up for the day on rickety old wooden tables out in a dirt lot on a warm sunday afternoon? other people's junk is where i find my treasures.

which brings me back to the isabella/south lake swap meet. THIS is where the real flea markets can be found. little po-dunk, poor towns where everybody knows everybody and they sell you a cool antiqued old globe for $2 and glasses to put votive candles in for $.10 each. this is where i find a perfectly perfect embroidered gb packers hoody for $3. this is what i'm talkin bout. LOVE this stuff. love digging through boxes of $.50 paperbacks, love finding an old complete compilation of mark twain's essays for $1. i love buying a bag of peanuts for $.25 and wandering around looking at people's junk.

which brings me to why i started writing about this in the first place. on the way to the swap meet last weekend i'm all excited telling my kids about all the treasures we might find and i happen to mention that "i absolutely ADORE looking at other people's junk!" braden and brynn both look at each other and i swear at the same time they screamed "EEEEEEEEW! gross mom!" followed quickly by, "we're telling dale that you're looking at other people's junk...!"

what kind of little perverts have i created? seriously. they are

child abuse?

so you may not find this nearly as funny as i did...but the other day my girl calls me from school to tell me that she has destroyed yet another pair of shoes (this is two and it's the third week of school) and to ask me if i would bring her another pair. she's in the office waiting for me, could i please hurry?

so, i'm in the middle of doing maybe 7 things, but she needs me so i wrap up what i can, drop what i can't, dig around for some shoes and then some socks (not an easy task), head to the car maybe 7 minutes after she called me. i get to the school and can't find anywhere to park - what the hell, seriously? i'm a little bit stressed cause i'm late and don't want her to miss her lunch. i manage to park maybe two freakin blocks away and am making my way to the office as quickly as possible in the 107 degree heat...suffice it to say, i'm not a happy camper.

i get to the office and find her patiently waiting for me, she's reading a book and swinging her little legs back and forth from the chair. there is a little (albeit husky) boy sitting a couple of chairs down from her and she explains to me that he is waiting for his mom to bring him shoes too. weird huh? i have my keys in my right hand and her shoes, my purse and her socks in my left. i take the pair of socks in my right hand along with my keys and give them a good hard shake to break them free of each other (you know how you fold socks together? yea that.) as i flip the socks downward, somewhere in the depths of my brain i become aware of a yellow missile-type object flying through the air and it seems to be headed directly towards the little (albeit husky) boy. he suddenly yelps and grabs his eye with both hands and falls dramatically to the floor. as he is writing on the ground i realize that whatever the flying object was has hit him on the right eye as he was sitting there minding his own business, just waiting for his shoes.

i take a peek around the office and realize no one has seen this but my eagle-eyed, smartass daughter who promptly rolls her eyes at me and shouts "oh, way to go, mom." little snot. so, the boy gets up off the floor, still holding his eye and looks at me with pretty much a "what the hell was that for?" look on his face, bends down under his chair and retrieves my burt's bees lip balm that is usually held by a neoprene sleeve on my keyring. he walks it over to me and says, absolutely no shit, "ma'am, i think this is yours." huh...who is this ma'am you speak of and how in the hell did THAT get over there? apparently, when i flipped the socks, it launched and hit him square in the eye. what are the odds, seriously? his mom walked in not 2 minutes later and instead of explaining to her that i was responsible for her child's drippy red eye, i got the hell out of there before he could tell on me. my word against his baby - you'll never get me copper, see?

listen to your uncle dave

16 THINGS THAT IT TOOK ME OVER 50 YEARS TO LEARN:

by Dave Barry, Nationally Syndicated Columnist

1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

2. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved and never will achieve its full potential, that word would be "meetings."

3. There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness."

4. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

5. You should not confuse your career with your life.

6. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

7. Never lick a steak knife.

8. The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

9. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight savings time.

10. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.

11. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven.

12. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above-average drivers.

13. A person who is nice to you but rude to a waiter is not a nice person (This is very important. Pay attention. It never fails.)

14. Your friends love you anyway.

15. Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic.

16. Men are like fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it's up to the women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into some thing acceptable to have dinner with.

i would rather watch buddy poop.

ZOMBIE NATION...oooh, sounds creepy huh? oh yea. LOVE me some creepy movies...after reading the back of the case at the video store, i didn't expect it would be taking home any oscars, but come on...what critic ever really appreciates a good zombie film? besides, the cover has this way cool, grey-skinned, drippy-fanged, glazed-over-eyeballs dude - oh yea, so sold.

first i was going to fuck with you and tell you to run out and rent ---no, BUY this film. you know, just for fun - but i felt guilty even thinking about it. second i was going to tell you, in detail, about the 84 minutes of my life that i will never get back and try to explain just how painful the passing of each one was. however, upon thinking about it for roughly 12 seconds, i've decided that i cannot make up words to describe this movie. but i'm going to try. i owe it to the unsuspecting masses. really.

do you like the night of the living dead movies? I LOVE THEM. my personal favorite is the mall one (is that dawn of the dead?) complete with porno music, get down and get funky 70's fashion statements and the ever-hunky (gah) steve running through the mall trying to keep up with the cool guy and protect the dimwitted stoned chick. great cinema there - campy and cheeseball and solid entertainment all the way through. now, zombie nation? uh, notsomuch. my point is that i'm not at all hard to please when it comes to skeery, creepy, gory movies and this one failed even me miserably.

not only was there NOTHING in the movie even slightly resembling the way-cool monster on the front of the case, there was nothing resembling an actor, a real movie set or even movie cameras (note the plural - there did seem to be one real movie camera but clips from it were scattered about the movie among many more clips from someones garage sale find in the form of a home video camera circa 1987 - remember the ones roughly the size of a microwave that you had to carry on your shoulder? ok, we are now officially on the same page...); the voice dubs were off - hell, i think their mouths were moving in english, but it was really hard to tell in some places - they could have been speaking farsi for all i know; the fight scenes were so bad that you could see them swing, let up and purposely miss when they were "beating" someone up; oh, and probably my all time favorite part of the movie was when this one guy (at band camp) was hefting a duffel bag (supposedly carrying a dead chick going about a buck-twenty) into the trunk of his maroon mercury cougar "police car", you see him really struggling to carry it because, well...you know it was "heavy". then came the moment where he actually threw it into the trunk...it was so painfully obvious that the bag was flat-ass empty that, just for shits and giggles, we rewound and rewatched it about 5 times. evidently not one person "on the set" thought to toss even a few rocks in there for effect.

apparently the budget for the "film" was so small, the only zombie makeup they could come up with was what appeared to be black crayon rubbed around the actors' (and i use that term oh-so-loosely) eyeballs; apparently, the budget was so small, instead of renting an actual room to film their "police station" scenes in, they used a portion of someones storage warehouse (complete with water pipes and actual stored products) and set up cubicle dividers to make pretend walls; apparently, the budget was so small that when one scene called for a chick-zombie to bite off some guy's wanker, did they at least flash me a glimpse of a real one? noooo, they instead substituted what appeared to be a ketchupy dog's tongue or maybe it was a hot dog - it was dark and hard to tell, regardless IT WAS SO FAKE. interestingly enough, they did find it in the budget to include a close-up scene of some hippie guy (complete with braids and a rolled up bandanna) on the side of the road flashing a peace sign for no apparent reason. it does indeed, remain a puzzling decision.

so, i'm not siskel, ebert or roper, BUT the only value i would place on this dvd would be the ability to do the poop-scoopin'-boogie with it and then maybe, once loaded, throw it like a frisbee over the neighbor's fence. that just might match the thrill of that one scene, when this single, monstrously large, seemingly floating in mid-air, silicone-filled, bare breast took over the entire screen. oh sure. that was worth the rental fee right there. (come on, you know you want to add this movie to your blockbuster online queue - what are you waiting for?)

calling all doctors

did i ever tell you about the time i went out to play with the kids in a light rain, hopped on a scooter to show off some mad skillz and ended up flat on my ass after free falling horizontally at a dead drop from about 4 feet up? no? hmmm...can't understand why i wouldn't have jumped right on here and filled you in on that.

about three weeks ago two of my kids are out playing in the rain, having oh-so-much fun when i felt the need to show them just how fast i can take an incredibly sharp 45 degree turn on a scooter without putting my feet down. holy shit, it didn't occur to me that the ground was wet and therefore possibly a tad slippery until i was already committed to the turn, about half way through it. honestly? one second my brain is screaming "OMG-SUNOFA-BITCH i'm not gonna make it!!!", the next second i am trying to shake off a concussion and breathe my way through the blinding pain that had become my left thigh.

my kids were trying so hard to not laugh (do i really need to add that they weren't having a lot of luck at it?) and help me to my feet at the same time, all the while i'm laughing/crying and just trying to get off the ground so that not EVERY neighbor i have sees me crippled on the ground and just assumes shawna went on another bender...ugh. they helped me hobble back into the house and i began myslow and painful recouperation.

three nights i couldn't sleep anywhere but on my right side, five days i gimped around the house, wincing when i had to get in or out of my car. the bruise was phenomenal and were my legs not so hideously gross BEFORE they were black, blue, green and purple, i may have allowed a picture to be taken, but so sorry charlie, not happ-nin'. i'm telling you this thing was the size of a really large man's foot. the center of the area didn't discolor, it only remained numb. the outer ring of the area turned an amazing array of colors over the first week and slowy faded to a lovely brownish color. three weeks later the entire is still sore to the touch, and the center of it pretty much feels like touching your own hand when it's fallen asleep. omg and it ITCHES, but when i scratch it, i can't feel anything so it doesn't cure the itch. WTF? and if i happen to turn or pull against the area when i'm laying on that side this amazing, unbelieveable heat begins and feels like my leg is aflame...what the hell could i have done to it???

love in a small town

(overheard in a strip mall parking lot between a couple of interesting folks, each carrying a large can of cheap beer - him a 60ish little hairy guy, her a 30ish hardass)

"fuck you motherfucker!" (her: walking backwards, facing him, offering up a "heil hitler" chest salute - huh?)
"no, fuck YOU motherfucker!" (him: walking really, really fast so he can keep up with her)
"get the fuck home motherfucker!" (her: you go girl!)
"fuck you, you stinky bitch!" (him: WINNAH!)

(he walks very quickly down the street - i assume towards "home" as she gently suggested; she puts down her 40ozer in a safe place and saunters into a smoke shop...)

i find it interesting...

here's a questionnaire i found on MC, i thought it was fun:

1. What time did you get up this morning? i'm one of those dorks that set their bedside clocks ahead in the hopes of faking myself out on what time it really is...stupid yes and i have no excuse - it's just how i roll. alarm goes off at 6:15, i loll around listening to bob and tom till about 6:45 or 7, then pop out of bed and get all surprised when i look at the 'real' clock and it's only 6:30. WOOHOO, powned me a-gain!
2. Diamonds or pearls? this SO cannot be a serious question.
3 .What was the last film you saw at the cinema? ghost rider (pffttt, not my choice, but i'll give sam elliot his props...he maybe old, but he's one sexy sumbitch!)
4. What is your favorite TV show? the ORIGINAL CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. i am a complete forensic science geek, but david caruso (miami) just creeps me out and really - melina karaasskrackadoshus (ny) is just too perfect to take seriously all traipsing around bloated juicy dead bodies and junk.
5. What did you have for breakfast this morning? just coffee today, cause i was late for an appointment. i usually eat two packs (yea two - you wanna go?) of quaker instant boatmeal, maple and brown sugar flavor.
6. What is your middle name? lynne, same as my ma's and my gram's - how sweet is that? so sweet in fact, that i failed to give it to ms b, what a lah-hoo-zer!
7. What is your favorite cuisine? Mexican followed ohsoclosely by eyetalyun!
8. What foods do you dislike? tomatoes, but only because of the seeds (i'm telling ya, they are the eyes of the devil. they are evil, EEE-VIL i say!) give me a genuine seedless tom and i'd be all over it!
9 . Favorite chips? crunchy cheetos...and yes, they count as a chip! mmmmm crunchy cheetos. i love crunchy cheetos. i would marry crunchy cheetos...
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? lately i've been stuck on anything mudvayne or korn (and no mom, i don't have anger issues, i just like to bang my head on occasion, sheesh).
11. What kind of car do you drive? a chebby suburban, vato!
12. What is your favorite sandwich? quizno's hot pastrami, swiss cheese, light mayo, deli mustard, pickles, bell peppers, olives and pepperoncinis. add just pepper and just vinegar and some creamy horseradish...mmmmm, mmmmm TOAST-AY!
13. What characteristics do you despise? sneakiness (hugely hate this), pretentiousness (is that a word? even if it's not it should be, these peeps need to be knocked down a notch), and dishonesty - ARGH!
14. What are your favorite clothes? my AF 1892 button fly's and a spaghetti strap top (with my bra straps showing of course - hey, you can take the girl outta cottonwood...), add some sketchers and i'm good to go!
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? anywhere with old castles - ireland would be my first choice. oooh, ooh italy - i'm thinkin' the italian countryside would truly kick ass to travel for a few weeks too...
16. Favorite brand of clothing? abercrombie, because i'm a really cool 41 year old mom...
17. Where would you want to retire? flagstaff, AZ. but really anywhere that actually gets 4 seasons. i want some snow in winter and a few hot days in summer and nice long springs and falls...really - is this just too much to ask?
18. Favorite time of day? early, early morning before the sun comes up - which makes absolutely no sense, because i also love to sleep in. sleeping in is my favorite, favorite.
19. Where were you born? sisters of mercy hospital in redding, california - thank you very much.
20. What is your favorite sport to watch? football, but only pro...despise college - they don't wear long socks. what is up with that?!?
(skipped two irrelevant ones)
23. Pepsi or Coke? pepsi, coke is just gross.
(i didn't skip #24, it skipped me)
25. Are you a morning person or a night person? gee, not really either one, although i'd like to be more of a morning person...at night time i'm too tired to stay up late enough to enjoy anything fun, well...almost anything fun.
26. Pedicure or manicure? pedi...LOVE the pedi's - could use the mani's, having man-hands and all, but definitely prefer the pedi's.
27. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? filing for divorce tomorrow - that's exciting!
28. What did you want to be when you were a kid? shorter, LOL! i also wanted to be a veterinarian.
29. What is your best childhood memory? the summer days spent on my friend lori's horse sissy (between the ages of about 12-16) ah, good times...good times!
31. Ever been to Africa? uh...i felt the rains down in africa. it's gonna take some time to do the things we never haa-aave...ooohoo...oh, oh.
32. Ever been toilet papering? uh...NO man, that crap is just mean!
33. Been in a car accident? my mom's VW bus (hooyea baby - have you ever driven one of these? so cool how they pop wheelies when you take off) was sideswiped when i was about 7 or so...oh and i drove through (yes, through, it exploded upon impact) a deer before, wasn't really an accident though - i mean, it was an accident, i didn't mean to drive through the deer, but it didn't wreck my car, just had a buncha splatty green stuff all up on my grill...
34. Favorite Day of the week? probably saturday, but they all have something good about them don't they?
35. Favorite restaurant? (all in fresno) high steppin' - Upstairs, Downtown (holy CRAP, this foofy food is some seriously good shit!); average attire - Yoshino's teppan-yaki (c'mon, who doesn't love the onion volcano?); slummin' - Famous Dave's BBQ (their motto is my motto; Eat Like A Pig!); fast food - weinerschnitzel (best hangover food, evah!)
36. Favorite Flower? gardenias and irises
37. Favorite ice cream? thrifty brand chocolate chip cookie dough...mmmmm, i love ice cream. i could marry ice cream...