My sister and I often obsess about current events. Right now, not unlike many people, our brains have been hyper-focused on the oil spill in the Gulf. If you don't know what I'm referring to, please crawl back in to the catacombs from whence you came. Seriously, I'm not even going to hyperlink to a news source for you.
Anyway, yesterday on the news they flashed some footage of a bunch of oil covered pelicans that had been rounded up I'm assuming to be cleaned. They were pelicans, but they were mud brown and looked terribly sad. I know it sounds funny to refer to a pelican as looking sad because on a pelican's best day it usually only manages to look slightly amused, but nevertheless, these pelicans looked sad. I imagine that it must suck to have your feathers weighed down with heavy, toxic sludge. I would be sad too...
No, wait. I wouldn't be sad--I would be freaking pissed off! I would be so pissed off that I would be jumping up and down, squawking and flapping my sludge covered pelican wings. I would probably also conspire with my fellow crude covered cohorts, and eventually formulate a plan to crash all the clean-up sites and have a Dawn drenched clean-up orgy.
But that's just me. And I'm not a pelican (at least last time I checked).
Anyway, I'm thinking of taking up donations so my sister and I can fly to Louisiana, eat some shrimp, drink mint juleps, and clean those pelicans that are too sad to be pissed. You can donate to me via PayPal.
I'll let you know if I make it there before Obama and BP have gotten the spill under control. (Harharharharharhar!)
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Soccer on This
So, the World Cup is on right now in the other room. Yeah, I think it's really cool that South Africa was able to get the Cup there, and football is pretty hip...I'm just really not that big in to sports which is why I'm sitting here in the other room blipping a blog.
Question: What's with the horn blowing at soccer games? It sounds like what I imagine Jericho sounded like right before the walls went down. Here's the thing, if I were at the game, I would so totally want one of those horns. But, since I'm at home, the sound is just flipping annoying. I guess it's sort of like secondhand smoke; I would rather smoke a cigarette myself than sit next to someone and inhale their secondhand smoke. I'm not a smoker, so that tells you how much I hate secondhand smoke. Well, okay, that's not totally true. I like catching whiffs of secondhand smoke when I walk past someone on the street because it gives me pleasant memories of my misspent youth. I also like smelling it faintly in Vegas casinos. Other than that, I hate it.
Anyway, in addition to secondhand smoke, I'm not fond of secondhand horn blowing.
That is all. Over and out. Go USA!
Question: What's with the horn blowing at soccer games? It sounds like what I imagine Jericho sounded like right before the walls went down. Here's the thing, if I were at the game, I would so totally want one of those horns. But, since I'm at home, the sound is just flipping annoying. I guess it's sort of like secondhand smoke; I would rather smoke a cigarette myself than sit next to someone and inhale their secondhand smoke. I'm not a smoker, so that tells you how much I hate secondhand smoke. Well, okay, that's not totally true. I like catching whiffs of secondhand smoke when I walk past someone on the street because it gives me pleasant memories of my misspent youth. I also like smelling it faintly in Vegas casinos. Other than that, I hate it.
Anyway, in addition to secondhand smoke, I'm not fond of secondhand horn blowing.
That is all. Over and out. Go USA!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Saturday's Warrior? (Circa--2009, sometime)
It's one of those mornings. You know, one of those mornings where one of your 11-year-old sons is hassling you for the back-allowance you owe him from last week, the other one is trying to fib his way out of a been-caught-cussing incident, and the baby just came home with a fever and a runny nose after an all-nighter at Disneyland. You know, we all go through these days sometimes, right?
To make matters so much better, DH is conveniently needed at work until late tonight. The phrase "it's busy season" is a get out of jail free card for the guy. I mean, who wouldn't want to head to the quiet sanctity of an office with a view right now? And did I mention he has all the Mountain Dew he can drink there? I would call him a lucky bastard, but his parents were happily married when they conceived him.
So, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I also decided to tell the boys that the Xbox needs to go off for the afternoon so they can go outside and play for a few hours. You would have sworn I had just forcibly converted them to Judaism, sent them back in a time machine to 1944, and given them a one way train ticket to Buchenwald. Can we say meltdown city? Sometimes it worries me how emotional kids can get over a white box with a small green button on it.
I guess I just don't understand video games. Yes, I spent a little time on the Nintendo when it first came out, but mostly my video game experience has been limited to me sitting on the couch watching my older brothers play Zelda or Kid Icarus. There were only two game controllers, and I had three older brothers so, you do the math. It was seldom that I played video games. Personally, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. I mean, what value is there in sitting in front of a screen pushing little buttons for hours and hours on end? [...she typed on to her computer screen.]
I don't know how, but sometime between the boys wailing about their forcible outdoor time and putting the hung-over baby down for a nap--it got quiet. Too quiet.
Ah, shi*. I shouldn't have typed that. The baby just woke up and the boys came in from outside.
Next time I'll just keep my big blog shut.
To make matters so much better, DH is conveniently needed at work until late tonight. The phrase "it's busy season" is a get out of jail free card for the guy. I mean, who wouldn't want to head to the quiet sanctity of an office with a view right now? And did I mention he has all the Mountain Dew he can drink there? I would call him a lucky bastard, but his parents were happily married when they conceived him.
So, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I also decided to tell the boys that the Xbox needs to go off for the afternoon so they can go outside and play for a few hours. You would have sworn I had just forcibly converted them to Judaism, sent them back in a time machine to 1944, and given them a one way train ticket to Buchenwald. Can we say meltdown city? Sometimes it worries me how emotional kids can get over a white box with a small green button on it.
I guess I just don't understand video games. Yes, I spent a little time on the Nintendo when it first came out, but mostly my video game experience has been limited to me sitting on the couch watching my older brothers play Zelda or Kid Icarus. There were only two game controllers, and I had three older brothers so, you do the math. It was seldom that I played video games. Personally, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. I mean, what value is there in sitting in front of a screen pushing little buttons for hours and hours on end? [...she typed on to her computer screen.]
I don't know how, but sometime between the boys wailing about their forcible outdoor time and putting the hung-over baby down for a nap--it got quiet. Too quiet.
Ah, shi*. I shouldn't have typed that. The baby just woke up and the boys came in from outside.
Next time I'll just keep my big blog shut.
Grumblings (Circa 2009)
Sometimes I don't feel like making dinner. Tonight is one of those nights I don't feel like making dinner. Maybe one of the reasons I don't feel like it is because I'm not hungry--I just ate a whole bowl of mini frosted wheat squares. Well, almost all of the bowl. Some of the little wheats and milk spilled onto the couch and on my jeans when Carter decided he wanted to mosh with my evening snack. Or, maybe he was just bitter that I had a whole bowl of cereal and milk to myself while he was left to forrage for leftover veggie chips that he threw off of his high chair earlier this morning. I don't blame him if he's bitter, I would be too if my mother cared more about what Bill O'Reilly's "Word of the Day" was than my nutritional needs.
Snap, Crackle...Not.
Some evenings I get motivated and bake treats for the kids--all housewifey and shi*. Well, tonight I decided would be one of those nights. Since it was later in the evening, I decided I would make something simple--your ordinary, everyday, all-around-loved cereal snack, rice krispy treats.
While I was gathering up my ingredients, Colton came in the kitchen and told me he wanted to make brownies. When I told him what I was making instead he replied, "Rice crispy treats suck!"
What. The. Eff?
Was I hearing correctly? A child that didn't enjoy the sticky sweet seduction of a square made from just three simple ingredients? My mind reeled, and I got a little dizzy. I somehow managed to walk out of the kitchen without throwing the large blue box of ricey goodness at my child's sweet, 13-year-old noggin. Lucky for him, because those boxes have sharp corners!
After I gave myself a minute or two to settle down, and I was thinking rationally again, I realized Colton's reply was a good thing. Follow me here...all kids love rice crispy treats, right? And Colton seems to think rice crispy treats "suck". Being the intelligent mother I am, I realize what this means. It means that Colton officially isn't a kid. He's an adult and it happened so fast I wasn't aware of it. Well sir, I am aware now.
So, after I type this up I'm going to go in to Colton's room to help him pack his stuff. Hopefully tomorrow he can find a place to live, get a job, and once he's all settled in to his new life--he can even make his own brownies!
While I was gathering up my ingredients, Colton came in the kitchen and told me he wanted to make brownies. When I told him what I was making instead he replied, "Rice crispy treats suck!"
What. The. Eff?
Was I hearing correctly? A child that didn't enjoy the sticky sweet seduction of a square made from just three simple ingredients? My mind reeled, and I got a little dizzy. I somehow managed to walk out of the kitchen without throwing the large blue box of ricey goodness at my child's sweet, 13-year-old noggin. Lucky for him, because those boxes have sharp corners!
After I gave myself a minute or two to settle down, and I was thinking rationally again, I realized Colton's reply was a good thing. Follow me here...all kids love rice crispy treats, right? And Colton seems to think rice crispy treats "suck". Being the intelligent mother I am, I realize what this means. It means that Colton officially isn't a kid. He's an adult and it happened so fast I wasn't aware of it. Well sir, I am aware now.
So, after I type this up I'm going to go in to Colton's room to help him pack his stuff. Hopefully tomorrow he can find a place to live, get a job, and once he's all settled in to his new life--he can even make his own brownies!
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