POP QUIZ! Hope y'all studied!

You Are Basic Panties

You are a laid back chick with a real natural beauty. You can make unwashed hair and minimal make-up super sexy. Men tend to notice you show the "real you" - and they appreciate it. And while basic makes boring for some, it looks classic on you.

What Kind of Panties Are You?

Your Lucky Underwear Is Red

You're confident and bold, and your lucky red underwear will only make you more sure of yourself. You have a great zest for life, and you tend to take on impossible goals - and succeed. When it comes to love, it's hard for you to take the time to open up. You're too busy conquering the world. So if you're looking for a little more romance, put on your red underpants. And see where their passion takes you!

What Color Is Your Lucky Underwear?

I don't believe it.

Today, in the mail, we received three copies of our lease extension for us to sign.

The owners agreed to a SIX MONTH LEASE!

AND... the rent is increasing by...

a mere FIFTY dollars.


I seriously can't believe it. I really thought they were gonna jack with us. Up to now, the nicest thing I could think of to say about Evilite Property Mismanagement was that They Are A Perfect Example... of How NOT to Run A Leasing Company.

Or Any Company that Deals with Human Beings.
In Any Way.


So now we have a plan. We're outta here in SIX MONTHS. Where are we going? We don't know. But, who cares? No more Dingbat!

We were so happy, we cleaned the garage!

BEFORE


AFTER


GOODWILL RUN



I think it might be fun to document the cleanup process over the next few months, just for my own edification. And y'all's. ;)

Perhaps I'll come across some wacky items I can offer as prizes. Or trade for yarn.

George Foreman Grill, anyone?

Maybe not everyone was wondering, but I was.

So last night I was watching Letterman and I heard him mention that Toby Maguire would never be on the show again.

And, because I don't always watch every episode, I wondered why.

So I did a little research.

This is why.


http://switchboard.real.com/player/email.html?PV=6.0.12&&title=Tobey%20Maguire%20%2D%2D%205%2F2%2F02%0D&link=http%3A%2F%2Fmag4.free.fr%2FMaguire%2Fmedias%2Flateshow.ram

Note: This content may require the latest RealPlayer, which is not available on Windows 95, Mac OS9 or Linux systems.



Now ya know.

BEHOLD! I am SuperMom! Maybe.

I took Beebie to the dentist this morning. But it wasn't for a routine visit. Oh, no. No no.

This is the Karma family we're talkin' about.

I got a phone call yesterday afternoon from the Bus Company. The woman told me that Beeb's bus driver had called in to let me know that Beeb was pressing her face against the bus window, and the driver hit a bump and Beebie chipped her tooth.

My first reaction: Thank God Beebie's school pictures were taken last month (and they're supercute, I'll show ya).

My second reaction: Is she okay?

She's on her way home now. That's really all I know.

My third reaction: How bad is the chip?

I don't know, ma'am. I'm just the messenger.

My fourth reaction: What the FUCK???

You don't give someone who doesn't have all the pertinent information the job of calling a parent in a potential emergency situation. Of course the parents are going to ask questions because they want all the facts they can get! And if the messenger doesn't know anything, well, it's just bloody frustrating.

My fourth reaction, in my out-loud voice: Um, okay.

So this lady told me Beebie chipped her tooth, but I was left wondering if the child was bloody and toothless and unconscious and how was I going to pay to get the tooth stuck back on? I have about $30 to make it until Friday. I wondered if the dentist has a payment plan.

I had this vision of Beeb walking in the door with her front tooth split in two. I wondered if it was broken horizontally or vertically. I was kinda hoping for horizontally, since I figured that horizontally would be easier to fix, but then I remembered the craptastic luck I invariably have (how long have you been reading my blog?), and I figured that chances were more than likely it was as bad as it could possibly be.

So I waited by the front door for what seemed like hours. I wanted to be there the instant the bus arrived, so that I, like a good mother, could cradle my daughter's trembling body in my arms as she sobbed that now she's ugly and hideous and no one will ever want to marry her. She's almost ten, remember. She really needs to start steppin' up that Husband Search.

I was totally prepared for a SuperMom Moment.

You Moms know what I mean - when the right thing to do comes to you instinctively and you feel like maybe you might actually know what you're doing with this Mom gig. Alerted by my acute SuperMom Senses, I was all set to swoop in and save the day. With a giant American flag waving behind me.

Maybe, after nearly ten years, I'm starting to get the hang of it. And best of all, it will almost certainly be witnessed by others, who will no doubt marvel at my parenting skills which clearly come so naturally to me. I should write a parenting book.

I could hear the bus approaching and I ran out to the lawn expecting to see Beebie shuffling up the sidewalk with a bloody towel in her mouth and tear streaks on her face. I was prepared to console her with words like "Oh, nobody will even notice!" and "It's what's on the inside that counts!" and "If your friends won't play with you anymore, then they're not good friends!" And other ridiculous crap that parents say to their ugly children. Hey, I know - my parents said it to me when I got a chicken pox scar on my nose (said scar still bothers me to this day, 25 years later).

Instead, off the bus bounded Beebie, skipping merrily and smiling from ear to ear. I checked her smile (as best I could from that distance) to see if there were any gaping holes in it. There weren't.

Oh my God! What happened, Beebie??? The bus people called me and told me you chipped your tooth! I was worried about you!

She told me she was making faces at people driving by, and she bumped her face on the window. It hurt, she cried, her gum bled a little, (anybody else fighting the urge to say Serves You Right For Bein' A Lil Shit?) and the bus driver thought somebody with absolutely no knowledge of the situation should call and worry me half to death for nothing.

Like I don't have enough to deal with.

Ok, I'm being somewhat facetious - I'm glad they called me, but DANG! They scared the crap outta me.

The Best Things In Life Are Free!

So I know you're dying to hear about our Free Dinner, arentcha?

Well, Dinner at the Child Safety Fair was rather impressive! We were served samples of Pasta Con Broccoli, Breaded Artichoke Hearts, Outback Steakhouse Bloomin' Onion, Pasta wth Shrimp and Scallops in a White Wine Sauce, and sandwiches from The Honey Baked Ham Store. Oh, and snowcones. Plus, many of the booths had candy and swag out for the kids. We wound up with a pretty good haul. Here's what we came home with.



Yes, I thought the DNA kits were kinda creepy too. They're not the Who's Yer Daddy DNA kits, though, cuz we're doin ok on that one. They're so you can swab your kid's cheek and keep a sample of their DNA in the freezer, should you ever need it. Man, it's a fucked up world, ain't it?

The highlight of the evening for me was The Fire Safety House, which is kinda like a trailer made to look like a small house (living room, kitchen and upstairs bedroom) so that kids can identify potential fire hazards. The demonstration was led by Officer Hottie, and at one point his cell phone rang and guess what his ringtone was? Only my total favorite song.

Back In Black

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I won't lie to ya, I flirted a tad with Officer Hottie. In front of my husband. I couldn't help myself. (C'mon - UNIFORM!!) R caught me and asked me afterwards if Officer Hottie would be nearly as hot without the uniform.

ANSWER: Yes. But the uniform reeeeeeeeally enhanced his hotness.

I asked Officer Hottie if ambulances are equipped with car seats, in case I ever needed to call 911 for myself if I was unable to drive. To my surprise, he said that yes, there is a car seat installed, plus they have an additional inflatable car seat. I told him about the time I had to pack the kids up and drive myself to the ER with a kidney infection on my birthday. He also mentioned that in a situation like that the responding officer might ask a neighbor to watch the kids, or as a last resort, an officer would stay there at the house with the kids.

Ummm... I'm pretty sure my neighbors have heard me scream at my kids about 500 times over the last 3 years. And I'll take my chances dragging the Apes to the ER before I'll let the 5-0 in this house, thankyaverymuch. But there y'all go - I obtained some potentially useful information for you. Just for y'all's edification.

All in all, I would highly recommend the Child Safety Fair as some high-quality free family entertainment. Here are some photos.

Here's Tito getting his fingerprints.




And there was a Petting Zoo! Who doesn't love a Petting Zoo?





The boys and I also went last week to Opening Day at Grants Farm. We got there right before it closed, and R and I each grabbed an Ape Boy and sprinted from the tram through the animal area ("Oh, look, guys - wave to the kangaroo!) to the beer window. Here's me enjoying my first free beer of the season.




And here's me, four days later, for my second free beer of the season. They haven't even been open a week and we've been twice. Damn straight.




Moving on, I agreed to participate in an interesting blog game with Sillyrabbit of the Knittyboards. The rules are as follows:

Want to play? Here’s the scoop:

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.


So, here are the questions posed to me by Sillyrabbit:

1. If you could go back in time and change one decision that you've made, what would it be?

I wish I could take back every Oreo I've ever eaten, since they probably make up about 80% of the composition of my fat ass.


2. What one thing would you refuse to buy from a dollar store, no matter how great a deal it was?

Condoms.


3. If you could have share a meal with anyone in the world, who would it be?

Tina Fey. She's cool and funny and down-to-earth, and she's a new mom, so we can talk about poop stories. Plus, she's really skinny, so she probably doesn't eat much. Maybe she'll give me some of her fries.


4. On what reality TV show would you most like to participate?

Easy - Big Brother. Because you can be surrounded by hot guys in swimsuits.


5. What one thing would you make illegal?

Stupidity. And bad yarn.


Let me know if you'd like to be interviewed by me. It might be fun.


There's some other stuff I should update you on.

Remember that job I was interviewing for? Well, I didn't get it. I'm bummed because I was hoping for some adult interaction and the extra cash, but it would have cut into my blogging time. So, it's fine. Whatever. Their loss.

Remember those jaggoffs who rent this house to us? We're still waiting to hear back from the owners if they'll agree to a six-month lease. So here's the email I sent Dingbat this morning (don't you love being Cc'ed on my emails?):

Following up - I think you spoke to R on the 10th regarding the possibility of a 6-month lease and you would need to run it by the homeowners. We've been offered a 6-month lease somewhere else but would prefer to stay here if the homeowners were agreeable to it. I just wanted to see if you'd heard anything from them yet so that we could plan accordingly. Two weeks have past and if they say no at this point it wouldn't really give us much time to move out.

And was I rude? No, I wasn't.

I'll keep you posted.


And remember how I was kinda hesitating about giving up my faboo manicures? The decision to rip off my fake nails was actually made for me. How convenient.



At least it didn't happen right after I'd had them done. And at least it didn't hurt when my pinky nail ripped off. But it did hurt when I ripped off the other nine myself. They look like shit.


Remember how I'm not buying yarn? I'm still doing really well on my yarn diet. My new favorite Yarn O' The Stash is Cascade Fixation. I made a couple of little projects yesterday that I'll show ya in the next couple of days. I think I might have designed something, but maybe not. I'm afraid to say I made up a pattern, because of OLPP's Fong Fallout, but maybe I'll do some research to see if what I made is truly original. And if not, well, who cares?

*Soundtrack of my Life*

I've seen this on other blogs and I finally found my missing MP3 player so I can do it too.


If your life was a movie, what would the soundtrack be?

Directions:
1. Open your mp3 library
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press Play.
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the Next button.
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool.
7. Don’t skip songs.


My Movie:
1. Opening credits: That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morrissette
2. Waking up: Uncle F*cker by South Park Soundtrack
3. First day of school: I Want You Back by Jackson Five
4. Fight song: Big Ball's In Cowtown by Asleep At The Wheel
5. Breaking up: Today by Smashing Pumpkins
6. Happiness: Hard To Handle by Black Crowes
7. Life’s okay: I See Ya Baby (Shakin' That Ass) by Groove Armada
8. Mental breakdown: Try A Little Tenderness by Otis Redding
9. Driving: Hot In Herr by Nelly
10. Flashback: Yellow by Coldplay
11. Getting back together: Smooth by Santana
12. Wedding song: Leaving Las Vegas by Sheryl Crow
13. Birth of first child: Mother Popcorn by James Brown
14. Final battle scene: Loser by Beck
15. Death scene: Hair by Cowsills
16. Funeral song: Da Da Da by Trio
17. End credits: Mama Said Knock You Out! by LL Cool J (I swear it was random!!!)


I was very pleased with my soundtrack. Now I'm gonna have to go burn this CD... and write a screenplay to go along with it.

As the film opens, I'm hopeful that I would be good, but when I wake up to Terrence and Phillip, I can already see that the first day of school isn't going to go well. I see the guy that I met at the LL Cool J concert over the summer and we get into a fight because he met a new girl and I want him back. So when I remind him of how much I enjoyed acquainting myself with his Big Balls, he tells me I'm a skank and he never wants to talk to me again. After I smash a few pumpkins in angst, I realize that this is a turning point in my life...suddenly Today's the greatest day I've ever known. I get a complete makeover and find my inner badass, who is fiesty and hard to handle. I lose some weight and as I shake my firmly-toned ass in the mirror, I decide that life's really okay.

And then, I see my summer crush and his new girlfriend at a bookstore. They're reading the Kama Sutra while I'm reading a Low Fat Slow Cooker Cookbook which suggests that I Try a Little Tenderness. And as he and I make eye contact, I start to cry and run out of the store. I get in my car (the A/C's broken, so it's hot in therr), and I start to have sweet romantic flashbacks of hanging out in the yellow sun with the summer crush guy. After driving around for hours, I come home to find a rose, a card and a Santana CD on my doorstep. It's from Summer Crush Guy. Damn, he's so smooth. He's decided I'm the only girl for him and he wants to marry me. Like, tomorrow. Inside the card is an airplane ticket and a note. The flight leaves in an hour. I don't need to bring anything but the clothes on my back, just meet him in Vegas, and then we'll leave together as husband and wife.

Nine months to the day later, out pops our first born child - James. I'm not sure what the Final Battle scene entails, but somehow I lose it (Duh, I'm a Loser, baby, so why don't ya kill me?) and die by being strangled to death by my own Hair, just as my son is speaking his first words, Da Da Da.

And as the credits roll, my husband is telling our son about how he and I met at the LL Cool J concert.

The theatergoers leave in tears.
There's early buzz of Oscar Nominations.

And the title of the film?
MP3 Shuffle.

Time for Another Long Post.

But first, a big wet sloppy smooch to Pam for pimping my blog for me! MMMMMMWAH!!

So remember April 15th, the date when we had to let Evilite Property Management know if we were planning to stay or go? Five days prior, my husband R called them to ask if the homeowners might consider putting us on a six-month lease. This is obviously the ideal scenario, but I hadn't really considered it as a possibility, as it would require Evilite to do something to make our lives easier.

It's important to note two things here - First, The Dingbat (the one who starts every email with "OK.") is reeeeeeeally nice to R. A lot of people I can't stand are disgustingly sweet to my husband. The Church Nazi is a prime example. Ever since the time she dragged R out of church by the ear because Tito was screaming bloody murder, she's been sweet as pie to him. She's that icky fake-sweet to me. And not like Equal or Splenda, like that nasty Old School Sweet N' Low. Like taking a sip of your mom's TAB when you were a kid - and gagging shortly thereafter.

Second, the only time they pick up the damn phone is when we *67 to block our Caller ID.

So Dingbat was really pleasant when R *67'ed and spoke to her last Tuesday. He told them that we might be transferred out of town when he gets a new job he's applied for, and we've been great tenants for years and we were just wondering if they ever did six-month leases. She very politely offered to contact the homeowners (who live in Colorado) to ask them and let us know. We even said we'd be willing to pay a bit more in rent.

We haven't heard a word. We even called last Saturday again to follow-up, and Dingbat said she hadn't gotten in touch with the homeowners yet. Technically, we haven't even heard if they're planning to rent this property at all. We haven't signed a lease renewal form. We don't know if there's been a rent increase. Nuthin.

So I'm concerned now that April 15th has come and gone and we have no idea where the homeowners stand on how long our next lease will be and how much rent will they charge us. What if they come back and decide they'll only do a one-year lease, and what if they decide to jack up the rent? Will our move-out deadline still be May 15th? We won't have time to move anywhere else if they opt to screw us like that.

If they do, I will move out, and I will fight to get 30 days from the date that they eventually freakin tell us what the hell is going on. Cuz we held up our part of the deal. God, I can't WAIT to not have to deal with these douchebags anymore.

So to encourage myself to save some money, I got this Jean Chatzky book which talks about The Latte Factor - the little things you buy (say, maybe $3 a day) that you don't really need that add up to an amount you should be saving.

And would you like to know what personal sacrifices I am making in order to help achieve our homebuying goal? I'm giving up some of my favorite things.

#1: Believe it or not, YARN. I haven't bought yarn since my sock class, which was on Mardi Gras, February 20th. And that time I only bought one skein. Here's a pic of the sock. This may be the closest I ever get to making a pair of socks.



Before that, the last yarn I bought was for the sweater class four or five weeks prior. Looks pretty much the same as it did the last time I posted a pic of it, doesn't it?



I actually think I can do it. I cut back before I went cold turkey, and I made it through Lent. I've been knitting from stash yarn for the last several weeks, and I actually get a rush out of perusing my stash for the yarn for whatever my next project du jour is.

Here are a couple of my stash yarn projects:



Look right below my sensational boobs. See the pink sash? I made that out of a single skein of pink bamboo and I got the shirt at Goodwill and cut it up to be cool. I felt just like Molly Ringwald in Pretty In Pink.



Here's a variation of the Booga Bag, a pattern that I love because they're quick and easy and they make really great gifts. I love being friends with non-crafty people. They're easily impressed. They like Fun Fur, for Christ's sake. That must be how Lion Brand stays in business. Real knitters aren't using it to make stuff for themselves, I don't think.

Oh, that reminds me. I crafted a scarf for a co-worker of my mom's out of that Red Heart fake mohair and boa yarn. The fake mohair was kinda greyish-white and looked like dog hair. I should have taken a picture of it, because words really can't capture its true heinousness. Mom's co-worker LOVED it. She wanted to pay me for it. I declined. Seriously, just remembering what it looked like makes me shudder.




And then of course there's the Magic Stripes Necktie I'm making for the same Sexy Local Meteorologist who wore the Nosewarmer I made him on the air. This one's taking me a while to make because this is my tote-along project that I always have in my purse. I thought that toting it along would provide me with plenty of opportunities to work on it, and it really hasn't happened like that. I think I actually have less waiting time whenever I carry along something to DO.

It's kinda like why I'll never get rid of the crutches we've had for 10 years. As long as I have them in the garage, I can pretty much guarantee that nobody I know will break their leg. But anyway...same principle.



Yesterday I was going to go to Michael's to get some black ribbon for Beeb's Mark Twain costume (which I can't even WAIT to show you, it's so freakin cool), but then I remembered I had some black yarn left from the Booga Bag I made, and I made her an I-cord necktie. I felt like a Bezzilicious thrifty knitting genius.

I decided that if there was something we needed that I could knit (like a case for the camera), I would try to make it. I'm going to make the kids hats for the Renaissance Faire next month. I think I have seen patterns in New Knits on the Block and Folk Hats.



And I'm also making a shrug out of Malabrigo. Yes, those are Namaste needles. (I said I wasn't going to buy YARN - needles and patterns don't count) I bought some Namaste needles from an LYS that had them for 50% off. I don't know if I'm missing the point of them (other than that they look totally cool) but I don't think glass needles are really any faster than the Addis I've been using for other projects.

I truly want to see how long I can go without buying yarn. I think I can go six months, which means I can buy yarn on August 20th (which happens to be FIL's birthday, come to think of it). If there is a certain yarn I need, I will first attempt to trade stash yarn for it. I will then shamelessly beg.

If that doesn't work, I may have to resort to offering sexual favors for yarn. But it better be some DAMN good yarn. I'll be next to Bezzie and her "Will Knit for Food" sign on the street corner.

My sign will say "Will Blow for Malabrigo".

Bezz, if we stick together, we'll never go hungry.


#2: GARAGE/ESTATE/RUMMAGE SALES. I am hereby forbidding myself to go to garage sales. I've talked to the kids about this, and they seem to be on board. I may crack and attend a church rummage sale (gotta support the church!), but I think if I cut impulsive garage and estate sale shopping out of my budget, I might see a difference in our financial picture. Plus, the less shit I buy, the less I'll have to move.


#3: BEER. I figure that's about $20 a month. The boys have enough bottle caps in their treasure box.


#4: I haven't fully commited to this but - MANICURES. As much as I love having beautiful nails, $30 a month is $30 a month.


So hopefully, these four sacrifices will make a significant impact on our ability to sock some money away for home-purchasing expenses. Meanwhile, we're enjoying ourselves while we max out on as much free stuff as possible. Scroll back up to the pic of the pink bamboo sash right below my sensational boobs. That was from yesterday - Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry's.

Prior to Free Cone Day (which we called "lunch"), we picked up a color TV from a fellow Freecycler. So now the kids can watch TV in the basement.

Today I cashed in $30 from our change jar so that we could purchase a Grant's Farm Parking Pass and drink more than $30 worth of free beer before the park closes for the winter.

For dinner this evening, we're going to a Child ID (photos & fingerprints) event. The promotional signs we saw advertising it promised free admission and free food. If we're still hungry, we can always go to Sam's Club... they have a great buffet.

More quizzes!

Because I know you love them. And you know I love you.

You Are 88% Tortured Genius

You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood. Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island.

Are You a Tortured Genius?

You Are Elektra

There's really no superhero with more style than you. Because who could beat being sexy assasin ninja?

What Superhero Are You?

Given this new insight, it's kind of ironic that every single time I (Elektra the Tortured Genius) go to open one of those cylinders of refrigerated biscuit dough, I jump and scream the instant it pops open. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Sometimes I even pee my pants a little.

It's almost enough to make me want to learn crochet.

The Anticraft Rules.

But personally, I would have added FunFur. Cuz I'm all about realism.

I will now share with you one of my proudest moments as a parent.

Some days, it kinda sucks to be a parent. Like that week two years ago when Tito had the Rotavirus. UGH.

But other days, you can't get enough of the little bastards.

Beebie came home from school yesterday and announced that she knew something that nobody else in her class knew.

A statement like that should make any parent wonder what they've taught their child, either intentionally or unintentionally, that his or her peers (READ: NORMAL CHILDREN) might not have been taught by their parents.

Examples of things that my kids know that other kids might not:

If your goldfish starts swimming upside down, feed it some mooshed-up frozen peas.

Don't put kitty litter on the floor of your car.

Hairspray should go on your head only.

Believe it or not, you CAN buy a pumpkin in December.

Sometimes Mommy's medicine makes her feel better, and sometimes it makes her feel worse.

Sometimes it's fun to meet strangers from the internet.

It's important to wear cool underpants.

If you throw up in middle of the night, call MOM. Dad is useless.

Sometimes grownups laugh when you read magazine covers out loud in a store.

If you wipe the ice cream sandwich gunk from your fingers on the bathroom wall, eventually it will go away.

(Please note that I'm not saying you're a bad parent if you haven't taught your kids these things.)


Beebie described the event to me, and what follows is how I visualized it:

Beeb's Teacher: Ok, class, today we are going to talk about Famous Missourians.

Class: YAAAAY!

Beeb's Teacher: Now let's see, who can tell me who Mark Twain was?

Kid #1: I assume you're referring to Samuel Langhorne Clemens. He is one of America's most famous writers, and he grew up in Hannibal, which is about two hours north of here. The characters in his novels Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were based on kids he knew in Hannibal.

Beeb's Teacher: Excellent! And does anyone know who Molly Brown was?

Kid #2: (scoffs) Her real name was Margaret Brown. Nobody really called her Molly until after she died.

Kid #3: Uh - HUH! Haven't you ever heard of The Unsinkable Molly Brown? They called her that because they couldn't sink her!

Kid #2: No, you idiot, that's just what they called her in the newspapers after she helped rescue a whole bunch of people on the Titanic. She got them into the lifeboats and she made even the women help row all the way to the Carpathia.

Then she helped prepare lists of all the survivors, and she even collected money to help those less fortunate among the surviving passengers and crew. She was even awarded the French Legion of Honour shortly before her death for her "overall good citizenship" including her relief work in France after World War I, her efforts for Titanic survivors, and her activism and philanthropy at home in America.

Kid #1: Kissass.

Beebie's Teacher: Very impressive! Now who can tell me who Adolphus Busch was?

Silence.

Beebie's Teacher: Anyone?

Beebie: Oh! I know!

He's one of the founders of Anheuser Busch! He and his family moved from Germany in the 1800's and Adolphus married Lily Anheuser and went into the beer-making business with her dad. And that's why it's called Anheuser Busch!

Beebie's Teacher: (whispers) Ummmmm, honey? Where did you learn all that?

Beebie: My mom and dad took us to the Budweiser Brewery. It smelled weird.

Beebie's Teacher: Your parents took you and your little brothers to a BREWERY?

Beebie: Well, yeah... it's a famous local tourist attraction. And there was this one part that was really cold, and this other part that was really hot. And my mom wore this really ugly thing that she knitted...

Kids #1, 2 and 3: Your parents drink... beer???

Beebie: Mostly just my mom. She likes Bud Select. She drinks it pretty much every day. She can hardly wait for Grant's Farm to open because they give out free beer there. It's pretty sweet.

(End Scene)


Yes, I was extremely proud that my daughter knew who Adolphus Busch was and why he is considered a famous Missourian. She may not know all of the state capitals, but she can name the entire family of Budweiser products.


Later that night, I discovered that my boys have been playing Pirate Treasure with a shoebox and a whole bunch of Bud Select bottle caps inside it.

Is it wrong to think that's funny?

Honey, would you please take a picture of my Uvula?

The Uvula Monologues, Chapter Two

So I got R to take a pic of my swollen uvula. Strangely, it didn't take much convincing to get him to agree to it (almost made me wonder if he'd thought I'd said something other than uvula), but it was certainly not an easy task. I kept laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of having him point a camera down my throat so that total strangers all over the world can ogle my uvula via the Internet.

Ah, what my life has become.

Thanks to all of you for your concern and well-wishes for my uvula. It still hurts, but it's getting better, I think. I've been pretty much living on Adagio Peppermint Tea (BTW, if you'd like a $5 gift certificate to try it, let me know and I'll score ya one) and soup. I mean, other than gorging myself like a sow at the Easter Buffet. But we'll get to that in a minute.

Saturday was our town's Annual Egg Hunt. I sincerely hope there's a special part of heaven for the moms who, against their better judgment, take their kids to run through a field looking for plastic eggs (and body-checking other pre-schoolers in the process) when the wind chill makes it feel like it's 11 degrees outside. Tito's hands were so cold he cried and he didn't want to carry his basket. Between you and me, Tito's a p*ssy, but don't tell him I said that.

If you've known me longer than a year, you'll remember that I'm about due for my annual Maybe Next Year We'll Buy A House emotional breakdown. You KNOW how much I hate renting from these jaggoffs. But my disdain for Elite Property Management grew tenfold when I discovered the penalty for breaking your lease early.

Backing up a bit, last year we decided, as we do every year, that THIS would be our last year of renting. We got our final credit card under the limit and have been paying it on time. And back in about January we kinda started looking at houses. And we found one we liked, and we put a contract on it, and further inspection revealed that it was a piece of crap, so we rescinded our offer and figured we'd renew our lease and when something came up we'd just find out what we'd have to pay to get out of it early and we'd be fine. R said he thought he remembered that we'd just have to pay an additional month's rent. For the record, I told him I thought he was wrong.

I checked. For the record, I was right.

Here's the actual email I got from the Dingbat who begins every email she sends me with the word "OK":

Hi,

Ok. No, there is a lot more to it than just one months rent.

Penalties for breaking a lease under Elite Property Management:
The only was these penalties can be dissolved is if you are in the military and the military transfers you.

If you break your lease:

1. You have to give a written thirty-day notice no matter what.

2. You loose your security deposit (this clause has stipulations though.
For example - if the house is in immaculate condition and you have paid your penalties it is possible that if you send in a written request the owner might be sympathetic and give you your security deposit back OR let's say your original lease is up in July and you vacated and broke your lease in January and it didn't get rented and the day your original lease is up comes and the property is in good condition the owner would have to give you your security back because you fulfilled your penalties and the house is in good condition.)

3. You have to pay your rent each month on the day that it is due until the property gets released or until your original lease is up whichever comes first.

4. You have to be cooperative in showing the property that is to your benefit also (because you would like to see it get rented asap)

Let me know

Thank You

Basically, we're totally screwed. Seriously, why would I move out and continue to pay them, trusting that they're going to make an effort to rent it to someone else when it doesn't benefit them in any way to do so - they're getting paid regardless? I fucking hate these fucking people. I swear they fuck us any way they possibly can. And I understand that they're working for the homeowner, I get that. But shit, we're their customers too.

So here's what we've been thinking - and please tell me if you think I'm crazy.

I'm going to join the Marines.

Just kidding. We're considering moving back into the apartment complex we left when we moved into the house we're in now.

Why? Because for less than $100 more than we're paying now, we could go on a month-to-month lease which would really be better while we're looking for a house. Square-footage wise, we'd be about the same, BUT, there would only be two bedrooms instead of three. I'd even let the kids share the Master Suite so they could have their own bathroom and walk-in closet.

Other perks? A dishwasher! Kids wouldn't have to change schools! A dishwasher! No security deposit! Plus, A DISHWASHER!!

Yes, it would be a sacrifice - no garage, no backyard, no basement - but it's temporary, and we think that it might be worth it to gain some flexibility. And again, I'd appreciate your feedback.

I know you've been dying to hear about Easter With The Inlaws, haven't you?? Well, keep yer drawers on, I'm gettin' to it.

Sunday morning we got up early and fulfilled 50% of our church obligation for the year. Hey, if it weren't always so freakin crowded every time we come, maybe we'd show up more often.

As we were getting ready, all right, kids, there's no way to sugar coat this - we have a porn collection. It's by no means extensive, and it's certainly not displayed prominently in our home. In fact, I had actually forgotten about its existence. I keep them on top of my jewelry box, which is covered in dust atop my dresser, out of the reach of Ape hands. I wasn't thinking when I got my jewelry box down and set it on the bed as I looked for something festive to adorn my cleavage. Tito came in five minutes before we had to leave for Easter Mass and asked if he could watch a DVD called Dinner Party, and R and I just gasped in horror.

Yeah, if you're thinking of tiptoeing into the world of porn, I would highly recommend Dinner Party, Outlaw Ladies, and anything with Marilyn Chambers. As porn goes, I'm Old School in the sense that I require a minimal sense of plot in any porn movie I watch. I'd also recommend Blue Door for your discreet online porn rental needs. Not that I'm a connoisseur or anything.
But enough porn talk - I'm getting ready for church.

I had planned to wear sandals, but since it was 34 degrees outside, I opted to go closed-toe. I found my one pair of non-black heels, and the one pair of non-black pantyhose in my drawer, and right away saw that these hose had some serious gravity issues. I couldn't get them pulled up over my gut. Then as I was defiantly pulling them up, I poked my thumb right through the thigh, allowing my pasty white skin to peek through. It was thoroughly depressing.

I had visions of my hose rolling down to my knees right before I had to walk up for Communion. I already knew I was probably going to trip in the heels I was forced to wear instead of the sandals I was planning on wearing, and with my luck I'd go arse over tit and wind up spread eagle in the aisle with my skirt over my head and the entire congregation getting an eyeful of my Wonder Woman panties.

But, in what can only be seen as an Easter Sunday Miracle, we made it to church with time to find both a parking space and a seat, the kids were good and I managed to keep my choice of undergarments a closely-guarded secret. At least, from anyone who doesn't read my blog.

R and I tried not to crack up at the priest's voice. It totally reminded me of the priest in Princess Bride who says Mahwagge... Mahwagge... is what brings us togevvuuuuuh... tooodaaaaaaaay. Perhaps if we'd gone every Sunday like we're supposed to we wouldn't have been totally caught off guard by it. I always get fits of the silent giggles at the most inappropriate times. We had to avoid making eye contact with each other.

We went home and gathered everything and headed out to Chez Inlaw. I was wearing my Power Panties and my Kickass New Tina Fey glasses.

Seriously, how cute am I?



And, if you look carefully, you can see that I am wearing a pair of fingerless mittens I whipped up using a pattern called Cheats. I started making them after damn near freezing my huevos off at the Arctic Egg Hunt the day before. Aren't they cute?

And no, I still haven't finished that damn sock. Or the sweater either. Shut up.

Moving on to Easter Brunch, there's this couple that I really don't like who we always see at Inlaw events because the guy's parents live out there too. Maddie and I used to work with them. They're just a couple of people who believe that because they themselves are idiots, the world just needs to cut them a break and hand them everything they want. They take advantage of people's kindness and then act like they're entitled to it.

I totally remember overhearing the guy complaining to someone on the phone that he couldn't go out that night because he had to "babysit". Dude, when it's YOUR kid, it's not BABYSITTING. Regardless of whether you're married to your baby mama or not. Y'know how there are some people who just don't get it? It's them.

Takers. That pretty much sums it up. I can't call them Mr. And Mrs. Taker, though, because they weren't married. I'll call them He-Taker and She-Taker.

Oh, boo hoo hoo, can't you just let us (fill in request)? We're just poor unmarried parents of a really cute toddler and we really don't want to get married because we're only 28 years old and, well, then, we'd have to be grown-ups n' be responsible n'... well, eeeeeeewww!!

I'm a nice person, and once I allowed R and myself to be conned into watching their unfortunate spawn (who was around the same age as Beebie) while they went to a hockey game. We watched the game on TV so I could know what time to expect them. And, ok, the game went into overtime, but it still should not have taken them a full two hours to get to my apartment afterwards.

They had cell phones. They could have called. Instead, they rang our doorbell after midnight and announced that they were late because the game went into overtime. I calmly replied that I had watched the game on TV, hoping to alert them to the fact that I knew damn well what time the game let out, and I also know damn well how long it takes to get from the Arena to my apartment. They were so busted. But they didn't flinch.

And they didn't pay us either. And what's worse - they acted like we shouldn't have expected them to. Shouldn't we have known they never pay anybody for anything? Oh, but they were notorious for spending money they didn't have on stuff they didn't need, and making a big show about it at the office.

For example, once they told the whole office that they couldn't afford to go to happy hour because they'd just spent a couple hundred bucks on Ralph Lauren paint for a house that they were RENTING, so could somebody "loan them a couple of bucks for drinks?" Instead of just forgoing the event, hello!!

But this babysitting thing took place before that. And after I heard about the stupid paint (who DOES that??) I, along with most of the other people in our office, decided that we weren't going to help them out anymore.

After they picked up their daughter, they made a half-assed offer to get us a case of our favorite beer as payment. I told them not to worry about it, since I knew damn well they weren't gonna worry about it.

Now remember, I have been in the position that they were in. R and I weren't married when we had Beebie. But I never asked the people that I worked with (who were basically total strangers) if they'd watch my kid while R and I went out to bars. No. You make some sacrifices when you become a parent.

The other girls in the office observed that She-Taker had an unusually large Upper Pubic Area, also known in the Urban Dictionary as a FUPA.

Have we ever talked about how much I love it when people I hate are fatter than me? R snuck this pic of her FUPA. And suddenly I felt waifish and petite.




Cuz, as you can see, I look exactly like Eva Longoria.



Isn't R the best husband in the world?

I know you'll all be deeply disappointed, but FIL was supernice this year. He even pointed out how well the kids were behaving. I'm wondering if senility isn't kickin' in.

I was kinda bummed, myself, that I didn't need to call upon my Power Panties for strength. Just kidding, I was really relieved that it was a nice day for everyone. But the downside, of course, was that I had hardly any effed-up drama to bring to my Therapenny session yesterday.

The brunch was great - particularly the Fritata and the Apple Cinnamon Crepes.

My kids were awesome. And what's better than just my own kids being awesome? Aldiboy acting like a typical two-year-old boy and watching FIL give the Aldis an amount of shit equivalent to the shit we endured with both of our sons when they were two years old. And keep in mind that for six weeks, my sons were BOTH two years old.



My favorite part of the entire day (apart from the FUPA sighting) was when Aldiboy started screaming his face off while we were waiting to be seated for brunch. When FIL asked what his deal was, the Aldis replied, "Oh, he's just really tiiiiiiired... it's his nap time..." And then they placed him on the floor, and he took off like a bat outta hell.

He's Tired is always their excuse. Always. No matter what time of day it is, if Aldiboy's not being an angel, it's because he's missing his regularly-scheduled nap at that moment. I swear, the kid must sleep 22 hours a day.

FIL quite rightly pointed out the irony - he certainly didn't look tired. Then, Mrs. Aldi gave him a piece of Easter Candy to pacify him and he was fine. FIL called her on that too. Tee hee. How many times have my toddler parenting choices been scrutinized? At least I know I'm not the only one he does it to.

So back to my favorite part of the day. Mr. Aldi cornered Aldiboy in an area of the hallway and I overheard the really humorous lecture he gave his just-turned-two-year-old son about how his behavior was inappropriate and that he needed to use his words instead of screaming. The only words the kid says are NO, MORE, and SISSY. Yeah. Good luck with that.

So I'm sorry I don't have more drama to write about. You know I hate letting you guys down. Next year I'll see if I can't sneak a flask of Wild Turkey in my purse so I can get drunk and beligerent, just for you. That's the level of devotion you get from THIS blogger.

Who loves ya??

How's Your Uvula?

(9/21/08) EDITED TO ADD : You probably Googled "Swollen Uvula," didn't you? This post gets more hits than any other on my blog, and it's not even the best one. You really should read a little more of my blog, when you have time. I hope your Uvula gets better. :)


Ugh.

Last week, I turned my air conditioner on when the high temperature was above 80 degrees.

However, for the last three days, I've had my heat on. It's freezing. Tonight it's supposed to get down into the 20's. And I just finished putting all the cold-weather clothes away to make room for spring clothes.

Whenever the weather changes drastically in a short period like that, I inevitably get sick. I've had a runny nose, stuffy head and sore throat since Wednesday. I've been living on Propel water, soup and orange juice.

Ugh.

This morning I woke up alone in my bed. Apparently I snored so loud last night R had to move to the living room sofa. I always feel really bad when that happens. My throat felt like I had swallowed barbed wire. I tried to look in the mirror to see if my tonsils were coated in that white gunk from strep.

You know what a uvula is? It's that little dangly thing in the back of your throat.

Here's what a normal one looks like.



Here's mine.




My uvula was the size of my thumb.
I could feel it resting on the back of my tongue.

Ugh.

So once again, all I could manage to swallow this morning was Propel and orange juice. Remember this liquid diet thing, it comes up later.

Beebie got invited by a friend to go see Meet the Robinsons this morning. The boys had wanted to see it too, and I knew they'd be disappointed, so I offered to take them to see something else that I knew Beebie didn't want to see.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Look, I've been lightheaded. I'm not thinking clearly.
That's my defense.

I brought my MP3 player, smuggled some bottles of water and granola bars in my Gigantor purse, and off we went.

I thought maybe something salty would help with the sore throat, so we shared some popcorn. Are you someone who finishes the popcorn before the opening credits are through? Me too.

Anyway, somewhere between ninja fight scenes, my four days of ingesting nothing but liquids hit me all at once. Usually I have Beebie with me to either watch the boys for me or take whichever of them needs to go potty during the movie, but today I was on my own. And I reeeeeeeeeally needed to go.

So it didn't help that the entire movie takes place in pouring rain.

Or that the kid behind me kept kicking my chair and jostling my innards. If I'd had the energy, I'da clocked that little jerk.

Or that the song on my MP3 player was "Three Strange Days", by School of Fish. Fish live in water, y'know.

Next song? "Tones of Home", by Blind Melon. What was the name of that other song they did? Oh yeah, something about RAIN.

I had to pee.

SO.

BAD.

My whole body ached.

And yes, it did occur to me to take both boys by the wrists and quietly explain to them that MOMMY really needed to go potty, but I feared an Ape outburst of epic proportions (ie "NOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" - I know my children) and I worried that a loud noise would cause my bladder to commit an outburst of its own.

So I waited, thinking eventually one of the Apes would ask me to take him to the potty, then we could all go. Tito, historically, has go potty at least twice during any given movie.

But not today.

UGH.

Meanwhile, my swollen uvula was still absolutely killing me. I was seriously afraid that I would swallow it and choke to death.

Poor widowed R would have to tell my friends to look for the anonymous tombstone that says nothing more than "CHOKED TO DEATH ON HER OWN UVULA", since he was trying to spare me the eternal shame of having my name etched beside my ultimate, unimaginably pathetic fate.

My uvula ached like a sumbitch, and yet there was no doubt in my mind that if I imbibed a single drop of liquid, I would explode into a giant mushroom cloud with a little flaming uvula as its source of ignition.

UGH. UGH. UGH.

I don't know which was worse - swollen bladder or swollen uvula.

I sat in turtle-icious torment until the final frame, and sprinted to the restroom - cross-legged and dragging two small children. It probably looked really funny to anyone who saw me.

I'm happy to say - I made it.

AHHHHHHHH.

And as I type this, my bladder is relieved.
But, alas, my uvula is not.

I sincerely hope my uvula heals before Sunday, so I can be at my best on a day that will undoubtedly test the power of my Power Panties. I really doubt FIL would accept "Sarah has a swollen uvula" as an excuse to miss Brunch At The Club.

Stay tuned for uvular updates.

I'll see if I can get R to take more pictures of it.

I love these quiz things.

Your Seduction Style: Sweet Talker

Your seduction technique can be summed up with "charm" You know that if you have the chance to talk to someone... Well, you won't be talking for long! ;-) You're great at telling potential lovers what they want to hear. Partially, because you're a great reflective listener and good at complementing. The other part of your formula? Focusing your conversation completely on the other person. Your "sweet talking" ways have taken you far in romance - and in life. You can finess your way through any difficult situation, with a smile on your face. Speeding tickets, job interviews... bring it on! You truly live a *charmed life*

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

You Are Aphrodite!

A total shining star with a ton of admirers And no wonder: you live life to the fullest! When things get bad, you can easily take off to a happier place But occasionally, you need to deal with problems head on

What Goddess Are You?

AND...

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Wanna know sumthin funny?

Once I sweet-talked a guy into taking me to see Schindler's List on a date because I really wanted to see it and I knew none of my friends wanted to. And I was thinking perhaps I'd cuddle into him a little during the scary parts. Not go all Jerry Seinfeld making out during it (that's one of my favorite episodes, BTW), but just give him a little teeny hint of my curvaceous warmth. And c'mon, Ralph Fiennes was smokin hot.

That totally bit me in the ass.

Not only was I too distraught to cuddle as I watched the little girl in the red coat going into the incinerator, but what do you say when you're walking out as the credits roll, other than...

WOW...Oh, man...WOW...Dude, seriously...WOW...?

It wasn't like either one of us was in the mood to go out for drinks or dancing or making out or doing anything fun after watching three hours of horrific atrocities. And of course I looked quite fetching after covertly weeping and wiping a black, slimy mixture of mascara and snot on my sleeve since I hadn't thought to bring Kleenex.


The lesson I learned that day?

There's nothing unsexier than Crimes Against Humanity. That's a libido buzzkill that not even the seduction skills of Aphrodite could overcome.

Sometimes I wonder if he's still single.

What's on my mind today?

Lots to talk about.

First, let's start with reality shows. I was just kidding about voting for Sanjaya, y'all. I haven't voted for anyone but Melinda and Blake. Seriously, Sanjaya fans, I don't know who you are, but when I find you... oh, it's ON.

I'm pretty sure I could take Tony Bennett if I sneak up on him from behind. I mean, clearly, if he's a Sanjaya supporter, his hearing must be going.

Y'know who's growin on me, though? Jordin Sparks. I really thought Gina did well last night, as did my favorites, Blake and Melinda. Actually, everybody was pretty good. If I had to choose who I think will go home tonight, I would have to say Eyebrow Boy or Hayley. Sorry, folks, I think Sanjaya's gonna stay another week.

And Dancing With the Stars continues to entertain. My Favorite Moment from this week was Joey Fatone's cha cha number to the Star Wars theme and the subsquent discussion of the size of his bum. Deeee - lish.

The runner-up for My Favorite Moment was Leeza Gibbons showing everyone the word TRAMP written in tasteful red cursive on her boob. Dang, I thought I was sick for wanting to get the Mud Flap Silhouette Girl tattooed on my ass cheeks.

And, hateful as this is gonna sound, wouldn't you think that the wife of a Beatle could afford some orthodontic work? Love her to death, hope she does well, more power to her and everything, but every time she smiles I just go yiiiiiiiih.

That's the last catty thing I'm gonna say about Heather. Except this - is anybody else out there secretly hoping her leg falls off mid-mambo just to see what would Bruno Tonioli would say? Ok, that's the last catty thing I'm going to say about Heather. Promise.

And was Sunday night's episode of The Amazing Race All-Stars awesome? Huge kudos to Charla for not only getting in the suit of armor but also for dealing with that obnoxious bitch cousin of hers, Mirna. Ooooh, I wanna smack that Mirna. My favorites on that show are Danny and Oswald (I totally want to party with them) and Uchenna and Joyce.

If you missed Uchenna and Joyce the first time around, Joyce shaved her head for a Fast Forward, and they went on to win the whole thing. I think the woman is beautiful, personally. And it's weird because they refer to all these problems they have in their marriage but you really never see them fighting. Which makes me wonder if Jonathan and Victoria were invited back for All-Stars. True fans of the show would remember them, and I also think they were on Fear Factor once. Hey, whatever happened to Fear Factor, anyway? I guess the world got sick of watching people eat fetal pig rectum.

Top Model and Next Pussycat Doll are also worth your time, if you haven't seen them. Then on Thursday we get to find out if Pam's on-again-off-again boyfriend Roy is indeed "going to kill Jim Halpert". After The Office is another of my favorite shows, 30 Rock, featuring Tina Fey, Alec Baldwin, and guest star Will Arnett, (formerly of The Best TV Show Ever, Arrested Development). Can't wait.

That's enough TV talk for now. Wouldn't want you all to get the impression that I have no life.

I have a life. I do lots of cool, wacky fun stuff. For example, I always like to have an interesting musical selection playing when I pull into the parking lot at my kids' schools. It's slightly less fun to do it at the Beeb's elementary school, but I so get a twisted little rush from blaring Fat Bottom Girls in the parking lot at the Baptist Church Preschool.

That's right, y'all. Don't mess with me. I'm daaaaaaaangerous.
Don't MAKE me whip out my pierced nipples.


Moving on - This morning, in the car, Pie asked me if he could get a book or a movie about The Cold War the next time we go to the library. Just to make sure, I asked him,

The Cold War? You mean, in American History?

Yeah. Just in case my teacher asks me about it.

Ok, I have NO idea what's goin' on in that kid's head. I guess I was absent on Cold War Day when I was in preschool. Oh, wait. They didn't call it that when I was in preschool. We called it The Bicentennial. I forgot, I'm a fossil.


I went to my hottie eye doctor, Dr. Smartass (he's hilariously sarcastic, which, as a patient, I fully appreciate) last week and got the most fantastic new glasses. I really didn't need them in order to get by, but I was due for a new pair and I LOVE these. They're kinda like Tina Fey's. R says I look like a sexy librarian.

Get this - I actually feel skinnier in these glasses.
I'd call that Money Well Spent. Cheaper'n liposuction!

Speaking of Money Well Spent, I've recently rediscovered the therapeutic value of manicures. I got my nails done by someone who's as big a perfectionist as I am. FINALLY! My nails look phenomenal. Love the shape, love the length, love the color (ChicaGO Get a Manicure, for you OPI fans), and the extra-shiny top coat.


And, in conclusion, I would like to thank Bezzie for the very kind compliment she paid me on her blog. BTW, if anyone should write a book, it's BEZZ. As much as I would love to write a book, there's one main reason why I don't think I should. My In-laws (and everyone else I've bashed since October 2005) would then discover that I have a blog in which I write very candidly about them, and then I'd have to go into hiding like Salman Rushdie.

And that would suck because I really don't want to leave my manicure guy.

Although, perhaps I could pay him to travel with me.

Money Well Spent!

No foolin, a free Dyson!

Check out this contest, courtesy of Dyson and 5minutesformom.com!!



I can't wish you luck, though, because I want to win it. I do promise to let you borrow it, though, if you trade me some yarn or something.

FREE YARN!!!*

*April Fool!!


Now that I've gotten that out of the way...

HAPPY OPENING DAY!!

Today (tonight, actually), the 2006 WORLD CHAMPIONS ST. LOUIS CARDINALS will take to the field against the New York Pond Scum in the Season Opener! No, I don't have tickets. I don't even have cable, so I won't be able to watch it at all. And I'm pissed.

There used to be so many more games on Free TV. Am I any less of a fan if I can't afford to go to the game, nor can I afford to pay for cable? Of course I'm not, but the League is sure making it tough for cheapasses like myself. I mean, shit, the Cards went ballz out - REO Speedwagon is doing the National Anthem. And I don't get to see it.

At least those of us who must be content to follow the games on the radio (which, last I heard, is still free) have the perhaps unintentional comedic genius of Mike Shannon calling the play-by-play. I've waited all winter to hear him say, "Gittup, baby, gittup!!!" coaxing a well-hit fly ball over the left-field fence.

He's not as funny as he used to be, since he stopped drinking eight or ten Cooooold Frosty Budweisers within the first three innings, but his voice (and the late Jack Buck's) has, my entire life, symbolized summer to me. And, as I got older, men with great asses in tight baseball pants came to symbolize summer to me too. And beer. Don't forget beer. I love beer.

My Beebie came out of her room this morning with, of all things, a CUBS t-shirt on. Of course I would not allow such a sacrilege to take place on Opening Day! I would not even have allowed CUBS paraphernalia to entire my home, but, two years ago Beeb played in a district baseball league and her team's name was the CUBS.

And, true to their namesake, they sucked. But I digress.

So she has a CUBS t-shirt with her name on the back of it. Not an actual Chicago Cubs t-shirt, as I said, but I still made her take the nasty thing off and told her to put on something red instead.

Anyway, so I'm in an unusually good mood today. And I know not all of you care about baseball as much as I do, so I'm going to share with you something I love which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with baseball.


Ok, none of this is new or anything, but I've had the Barry Gibb Talk Show theme song in my head for about a week now... and the only cure I know of for getting a song out of your head is to put it in someone else's head.

For the clueless, SOMEONE ELSE = YOU.


Talkin it up
On the Barry Gibb Talk Show
Talkin 'bout issues
Talkin 'bout real important issues...

Talkin it up
On the Barry Gibb Talk Show
Talkin 'bout politics
In this crazy, crazy town...

Talkin it up
On the Barry Gibb Talk Show
Talkin 'bout chest hair
Talkin 'bout crazy gold medallions...






And finally, ya know what else I think is hilarious?

People all over the world know exactly which panties I'll be wearing one week from today.

That's just awesome.
Or else really disturbing, I can't decide.


And I'm not flashin' my stash today, maybe I'll do it tomorrow.