A run on guns...

Here's your interesting factoid for the day: gun dealers cannot get AR-15 rifles.

Huh?

Apparently, the general public has gotten so frightened by president-elect Obama, and his extreme anti-gun policies, that the factories that make these weapons are unable to keep up with the demand.



What will become of our Second Amendment, and its "negative liberties" under the Obama regime?



Only time will tell.

Dipping Sauce

I've been pretty quiet lately, hence the lack of posts. I wanted to get in at least one more post for March, as it charges out 'like a lion' so here it goes:

Tonight, for dinner, I served my family the most healthful, organic, locally produced farm-fresh foods...what? You don't believe me? OK, I admit it, it was frozen fish sticks, but here's the fun part, and, as you can guess it involves children, or specifically the boy child:

Chubbs is smacking away at his fish sticks and noisily slurping his milk, blowing bubbles intermittently for good measure, when I notice that he's dipping. My chubber loves to dip his food. I don't know what it is, but I think most kids have the same affinity: food is just somehow better if you can dip it into something before cramming it into your mouth. Chubber is my 'little dipper' and tonight was no exception. He chose to have a small blob of ketchup on his plate, sort of a little decorative garnish (heaven forbid he ever actually use his ketchup for anything other than a viscous substance with which to 'drive' his 'food-car' through as a means of vicariously living the life of a monster-truck driver...), but fish sticks just aren't as good if you don't actually dip them into something.

Well, tonight, folks, the Chublet has reached a new echelon of grossology: he devoured his fish sticks after liberally dunking them (repeatedly!) into his apple sauce.

Y-U-C-K-Y!

Can you even imagine a more disgusting combination than frozen fish-sticks dipped into organic (for real!) no sugar added apple sauce? That was just way too nasty for me. Ranks right up there with the Scottish delicacy of a deep-fried Mars bar. (shuddering in revulsion, here)

So, tell me, what's the nastiest thing your sweet little offspring has decided to 'dip'?

More about ma' Peeps

Taken from the April 2008 issue of Parenting magazine:
by: Deborah Skolnik

4 Ways Kids are Like Peeps


1. They're sweet, though almost always a bit sticky.


2. You can give them a little squeeze if they're yours--but not if they're a stranger's.

3. They're a known cause of stubborn belly overhang.

4. It can be hard to stop at one, but after two or three, the mere thought of having another may make you queasy.







Lovin da peeps and lovin, y'all, ma' peeps!

Parental Advisory: Explicit Content

In honor of my all time favorite Easter basket treats:

The Peep Show

Little Bathing Beauty

Last night I gave the Peanut and Chubber a bath. Yes, I know, what a surprise: a mom bathing her preschool children. Well, ya kind of have to, its in the job description, and--after about 4 days or so they really start to smell.

So, upon pulling peanut out of the tub she says:

"Mommy! (looking at her naked arm and little tummy) I have DUCK BUMPS!"

Translation: Goose bumps.

I just thought that was the cutest little thing.

Plagiarism....and stuff

So, if the MLA or APA folks come around, just 'X' out this window...because I stole it! It is from an email forward (anonymous), and is too funny not to share. That, and I got lousy news at work today: My partner is being transferred to another location--executive decision by the top brass. I'm completely and totally bummed. We both were in tears. So, with that in mind I'll cheer myself (and maybe you, too!) up.

For your consideration:

If you are 30 or older (or close to it) you will think this is
hilarious!!!!

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious
diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what
with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning ... uphill
BOTH ways

yadda, yadda, yadda

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no
way I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids
about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it! But now that...
I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around
and notice the youth of today.

So here it goes . . . . .

When I was a kid we didn't have The Internet . If we wanted to know
something, we had to go to the library and look it up
ourselves, in the card catalogue!! There was no email!! We had to
actually write somebody a letter .with a pen! Then you had to walk
all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would
take like a week to get there!

There were no MP3's or Napsters! You wanted to steal music, you had
to hitchhike to the record store and shoplift it yourself! Or
you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd
usually talk over the beginning and mess it all up!

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If you were on the
phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it!
And we didn't have fancy Caller ID Boxes either! When the phone
rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom,
your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you
just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances,
mister!

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with
high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games
like 'Space Invaders' and 'asteroids'. Your guy was a little square!
You actually had to use your imagination!! And there were no
multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen forever! And you
could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and
faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!

When you went to the movie theatre there no such thing as stadium
seating! All the seats were the same height! If a tall guy or some
old broad with a hat sat in front of you and you couldn't see, you
were just screwed!

Sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 15
channels and there was no on screen menu and no remote control! You
had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on!
You were screwed when it came to channel surfing! You had to get off
your butt and walk over to the TV to change the channel and there was
no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday
Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying! ?! We had to wait ALL WEEK for
cartoons, you spoiled little brats!

And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up we
had to use the stove ... imagine that! If we wanted popcorn, we had
to use that stupid Jiffy Pop thing and shake it over the stove
forever like an idiot.

That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it
too easy. You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes
back in 1980!

Regards,

The over 30 Crowd

Fulfilling my Civic Duty (maybe?)

Dun, dun, dun....I've been called for....JURY DUTY!

Ahh!

I have been summoned for jury duty exactly three times in my lifetime. To date I have served on exactly 0 trials. The first time that weighty little letter showed up I was about 22 years old, and, while nervous as 'all-get-out' after dialing the phone-in line, I was relieved of my duty: the trial had been cancelled.

The second time I was summoned was during my year-long leave of absence (read: when I was a S.A.H.M. to my Peanut and Chubbers). Due to the sensitive nature of my living situation (read: heavily lactating-mommy moo-cow who was nursing a 20lb. Chublet every 3 hours), I was able to decline to fulfil my Civic Duty.

It is always said that the "third time is the charm", and with that in mind, this past October, I received my third offical summons to appear as a juror in service of our magnificent American justice system. Unfortunately, at work, I was heavily inundated with offical State business (yet another fun audit or the like...honestly, I can't remember what legal-ish situation was going on, but it was something high-stakes (apparently) or else I wouldn't have been able to defer...) so I was able to postpone my summons until a later time.

Being the industrious little worker-bee that I am, I looked at my handy-dandy calendar and marked which bank holidays occurred in which months, and I zeroed in on February as my choice of month to commit myself to my Duty. Why February, you ask? Well, it is the month with the fewest bank holidays/inservices/out of the office days, of course. And, if I'm going to get stuck doing something I don't particularly want to do, I might as well do it and have a day out of the office, in a month where there are few days away, while I do it. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I thought so too.

So, here in my post box this afternoon what was I to find? I found the Safeway weekly mail insert (yuck--who cares, the poor slaughtered trees and environmental waste is what always pops into my brain), a Discover card advert (who cares? Aren't Americans, as a rule, entirely too far in debt? Isn't the Fed, as we speak, working on contriving a way to keep us out of a recession due to our overzealous spending habits and the poor investment choices of people with NO CREDIT have made? Isn't coroporate America crying 'poor, poor, poor, me...save me! while our Leader has (thank GOD) resolutely refused to dole out yet another form or corporate welfare...aherm...climbing down off the soap-box now). And, tucked neatly between the glorious waste of paper in my box, you guessed it, my Jury summons.

Should prove to be interesting, at the least. I wonder if I will wind up not being needed, as before. Or, will I get stuck on some sort of O.J.-esque media circus where I'll be sequestered (detained, Northern Korean prisoner-of-war style) in a swanky hotel, away from all outside influences and my precious family?

Who knows.

I call into the automated response system on February 24th to see if I will be needed on the 25th.

Wish me luck.

What I get for driving without the radio on...

Driving home from work today I kept the radio/CD/satellite/DVD off.

Amazing, I know.

Actually, I turned it all off on my way to work today. Sometimes I crave quiet, and driving sans electronic gadgets blaring is one sure-fire way to get it.

Peace gives me time to think--it is a good thing and a bad thing, both.

Anyhow, as I was nearing home I drove past an 'Oil Can Henry's' and I glanced at the reader board:

Come on in. Free WiFi.

Huh?

I had a couple of thoughts: are we so addicted to entertainment that we have to take our laptop to get a 15minute (or more like 30 mins) oil change? And, I also thought: 'free WiFi' Is is possible to have WiFi for a charge (other than your own personal home account)?

Have you ever seen signs: WiFi $.15/minute for the first 30 minutes, and $2.75/hour after the first half hour?

I certainly haven't. Could you even charge if you wanted to? People drive around neighborhoods with their laptops open looking for a signal so that they can steal WiFi. I know this because the laptops that we have at work have a very limited range of reception so that random freaks can't park in the lot at night to steal our WiFi. It's a security issue.

Hmmm.

So, does it "Free" and "WiFi" said in the same breath (or reader board) make the statement an oxymoron?

See. Sometimes thinking gets me into trouble.

What do you think? What do you know? Can you charge for WiFi in a public space? I'm curious to know. If you have any idea, post a comment, will ya? Thanks!

Because, well, inquiring minds deserve to know.

Ratatouille

I had a very interesting start to my morning.

For starters, the evil Chubber was up at who-knows-what-time (when I got out of the shower and walked into my room, he was standing in the doorway--staring at me!), so I had a super early start: 5:30am. Ugh. I really need, honestly need a half-hour to myself first thing in the morning after I get out of the shower. With the Chublet being up so early, my 'personal time' instantly evaporates. At any rate, despite the early, early start with kids, the first part of my morning went smoothly. Where's the interesting part, you ask? Here it comes:

Once I got to work I was really productive. Rare for me, as I like to socialize a little bit in the morning with my co-workers and catch up on the goings-on (I miss out on a lot since I don't technically work full-time. Yeah, right.). I got the art materials we'd be using prepped and ready to roll for Friday, and the only thing I was missing was a few gallon-sized ziplock bags.

I started to look for the bags I needed. None to be found in my supply closet, desk, or random piles of detritus that inhabit my work-space. Bummer. That left me with having to cruise down to the second floor to look in the 'science closet.' I am in this closet constantly (I have a bit of a penchant for science...) and I know that there are not only gallon-sized ziplock bags, but quart-sized bags. Oh joy! As I was opening the storage closet a friend walked by and started to chat about what was going on, and, being me, I turned and said hello and got filled in on this very important 'memo.' As I'm standing there I'm noticing a foul odor emanating from the science closet. It is nasty and somewhat familiar, though I can't quite place it. Finally, important office talk taken care of, I begin to turn around to look in the closet when I hear it (slow things down to slow-motion): the plat-plat-plat of little naked rodent feet.

Eew, yucky!

Then, it all becomes odorifically clear: that smell was rat and/or mouse pee! And, those little feet that were scuttling across the floor were rat and/or mouse feet.

At this point, the elapsed time is approximately 0:01.05 seconds. I SCREAM! and jump up in the air, doing a fair imitation of my 'arachnoleptic fit' (the jiggy moves I perform when I happen upon a member of the arachnids--I do not like spiders!). To my horror, there are two small children in the a hallway who witness my 'freak-out-fit' and I run (think 'fairy princess' in the derogatory sense of the saying) to another co-worker's office.

Talk about a wake-up-call!

I complain to the appropriate department, and find out:

1. The appropriate personnel is aware that there is a (moderate) rodent problem
2. An exterminator is to be coming soon (I asked "soon? As in we're getting our new copy-machine 'soon' (it was supposed to have been installed some time after JUNE!))
3. The appropriate personnel had, in fact, killed a mouse in said science closet that very morning

Oh, how I do love working for the US government. Your tax dollars at work, baby! Nothin' but the best for our future.

So, Disney had a 'cute' rat in their new Disney/Pixar film "Ratatouille". We have disgusting, bad-smelling-pee, nasty little scuttling pink feet, dirty ghetto rats.

Hmmm.

How did they ever think rodents were cute and cuddly? I'll never know.

More Coffee Humor

A friend who knows I'm utterly addicted to coffee sent me this little link.

Follow these directions:

1. Click this link.
2. PUT THE COIN IN THE VENDING MACHINE
3. CHOOSE YOUR DRINK
4. CLICK ON THE CUP WHEN IT IS READY
5. CLICK ON "APRI"

Don't forget to click on "APRI" in the last box !!!

Happy Thursday!

Strangest Magazine Ad I've Seen in a While...

Well, let's just start out by saying I don't exactly endorse things like this, but the shock value was too great not to make some sort of comment on it. I'm such a shy little wall-flower, as you all already know. (She snickers, to herself)

I don't want a bunch of 'flames' or any other sort of negatives. OK? 'Nuff said.

B. J. was reading (yet another) one his motorcycle magazine tonight while I was innocently looking at articles online (getting my daily blog-crack-fix) and he comes over to me and says:

"You've got to check this advertisement out." and he hands me his magazine, folded in half.

"Um. OK." I reply, wondering why do I remotely care about some overpriced motorcycle part advert. "OH!"

It was one of those moments where if we were on a television sitcom you would have heard the 'needle scratching across a vinyl record' soundbite.

Behold, this is what I saw in the very back of the advertising section of the November 2007 issue of Cycle World (resolution isn't great--thanks to my scanner) :

Sorry ladies, it was just too weird to not post.

Who knew these types of advertisements were found in mainstream (read: non-pornographic) media. (scratching my head, here). Guess I gotta crawl out from under my proverbial rock more often.

...She did what?

From down the hallway I hear my loving husband, the father of my children call out:
"She crapped a banana."

"She did what?" I question, with a note of horror in my voice.

"You heard me. She crapped a big banana."

I go into the bathroom to see what the heck he is talking about. I peer into the white porcelain throne that my daughter is perched on; my little girl beams up at me with her dazzling white smile and says, "Look mama, I pooped a banana!" Indeed, there is a plantain shaped bolus of fecal matter floating just below the water's surface.

I am utterly mortified at this point, yet at the same time trying not to start laughing hysterically.

Yes. This is the actual conversation that took place this evening as B.J. and I got ready to put The Peanut to bed. And, no, this is not a totally out-of-the-ordinary getting-ready-for-bed conversation. I wish it weren't, but it is.

A brief history of poop:

The Peanut was born almost a full month early, tiny, angry, squalling, and completely against eating-anything. As a result, she was jaundiced, chronically dehydrated, and lost a lot of weight (which is saying something, as she was only 5lbs. 12oz. at birth). She hated eating, it was an hourly battle, we measured what she ate in CC's (until she was a few months old). It is a fact: When you don't eat, you don't poop. End of story.

Continue on to the recent past: She still hates eating. The child exists on air, I swear (why is it that I can't quit shoveling food into my face, and I can't get her to put anything in her mouth? God definitely has a good sense of humor, or irony, if nothing else).

As a result of her hatred of food, she eats a fairly limited diet--mainly white, starchy foods, cheese and dairy. Oh, yeah, and applesauce. All of these foods are highly binding, in a colon-plugged-up-like-the-hoover-damn kind of way. Needless to say, Peanut is chronically constipated. Always has been. This kid never crapped more than a few hard, dried out rabbit pellet sized turds at a time, and sometimes only once a week. It was horrible.

If it wasn't already obvious, our lives revolve around poop. (Now, I know you can die in peace, knowing that our household is so obsessed with bowel movements.) People who don't poop are extremely edgy, angry, and in a generally Genghis Khan type of mood all the time. I don't know about you, but we don't enjoy picnicking with Genghis Khan on PMS [Christian name: Peanut], so we strive toward getting Peanut to poop so she will be the lovely, adorable, girl I know she is (instead of the murderous rage-inducing mini-tyrant she likes to pretend she is).

For the longest time Peanut was on prescription laxatives. For a Loonnnng time. From the age of about 18-20 months (I forget, isn't that terrible?) until about age 4 she's been on the following high dosage (would make a brick have a b.m.) laxatives: Lactulose, Miralax, and various pre-G.I. surgery type laxatives.

Eew.

Anything and everything we tried to get our child to poop. Most folks could get their kids to eat some greens, or other high-fiber foods and get past the non-poopage issue. Not our little Peanut.

Now back to the present. We've been working with a special Chinese massage study called Quigong. It works to alleviate some Autistic symptoms in kids, and works to fix their bowels. In the case of Peanut, it was a total success in the B.M. department; our little pooper now drops the kiddos off at the pool daily--without any medication. This is like party time in our household. A la Kool and the Gang: Let's celebrate good times, come on! No more icky laxatives for our little girl. The only down-side to it is that Peanut still thinks pooping is going to be this horrendously traumatic event (--can you imagine not having a b.m. for a week or more, and then finally having one? The sheer diameter of the things that would exit her body make me shudder to think of them). I can't blame her for being anxious. So, we still have poop drama.

Most evenings go like this: Peanut gets her jammies on, goes pee, and then we have her sit and relax so that she can 'go.' This is usually followed by screaming, protesting, and the ever present "I DON'T HAVE TO GO POOP!!!!!!!!" We still have her 'try.' (she used to scream "I can't!" but I couldn't stand hearing a 4 year old tell me "I can't" so we've retrained her to say "I tried")

It is usually 3-10 minutes of her complaining, whining, and/or screaming. Then it comes: "Moooomm, I went POOP!!!". And we see she has indeed gone poop, and gone A LOT.

So, you've already read tonight's conversation. I'm sure that someday, in retrospect, we're all going to laugh and laugh about this little 'poop' issue. But right now, with the exception of tonight's ultra-descriptive b.m. most nights it is an uphill battle.

Nobody ever told me that becoming a parent would involve a degree in poop. The things I talk about with my (mom) girlfriends; the things I publish in cyberspace. If someone had told me, before becoming a parent, I'd write a blog entry on crap (no pun intended) without hesitation or embarrassment I would have told them they were full of it. Oh, how things change.

Chubbers re-enacts 'A Christmas Story'

From the Christmas movie classic: A Christmas Story

"Now, Randy, can you show me how the little piggies eat? How do the little
piggies eat?"

"That's my little Piggy!"

*Chubbers dove 'head first' into his refried beans. Apparently, he likes them.

Random quote of the day:

While making breakfast on the counter-top griddle I overheard B.J. mutter with disgust:

"Watched bacon never boils."