Umm, yeah. Never again...

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

We are heading to the 'rents and will be back in a few days.

See you on the flip side.

My Love Man

Him - Left on another business trip.

Me- Left to try and survive the wrath of the Buzz Kills.

Him - Called to tell me that in case of emergency, look in the glove box of my car.

Me- It's either the glove box or the box of wine sitting on top of the fridge.

I took the more responsible of the choices.

What I found in the glove box made me love him just that much more. Sixteen years ago I met a guy who I thought was the antithesis of everything I wanted. Now today I confirmed the fact that he is indeed everything I ever wanted. Do you want to know why?

In that glove box was a Banana Republic gift card with this written on the card...

"For my Skinny Vanilla Hatte..."

Do you know how hard I have worked to be called skinny? Seriously!

Guys, a sure fire way to score major points with your wife?

Turn your wife into her Starbucks drink of choice. Just make sure it's a Skinny and do not under any circumstances use the term... Grande.

Finally a Club HASAY update!

Hey HASAY remember me?

I've been here, sticking to the program and trying to keep on keeping on. What I haven't been doing is checking up on you all and for that I am sorry. My goal is to get to all of your blogs this weekend.

I weighed in at Weight Watchers tonight and I ended up with a .2 (two tenths of a pound) gain. I am not worried because I was totally on plan, workouts were awesome and I started to do some weight training. Even with a broken wrist. Hows that for dedication?

At tonight's meeting we discussed Thanksgiving survival tips and our leader gave us a recipe. It's here for the taking...

Help to get not fatter on Thanksgiving...

1- Eat a healthy breakfast. No carmel pecan sticky buns that are a family tradition for me. This year we are doing a cranberry scones recipe with a fruit salad.

2- Limit alcohol. Hard to do when I am going to mom and pop's house. I have no doubt that Russ and I will be doing shots right out of the bottle in the basement bar of my parents abode for therapy. But it's therapy and if you experienced a holiday at my parents house in western Iowa you would understand. There will be 16 people at mom and dad's. 6 of those will be under the age of 8. Thankfully they have a house big enough to hold us all and a bar big enough to hold all the therapy.

3- Drink your water. ALL DAY LONG. Keeping fully hydrated is essential for healthy weight loss. I drink at least 8 - 16.9 oz bottles per day. I know I need to be greener and get rid of the plastic bottles. Baby steps people, baby steps.

4- Portion control. 'Nuff said.

5- Try eating with nothing on your plate touching. Leaving room between foods!

Here's the Pumpkin Turtle Pie recipe they gave out in class tonight. I'm usually more of a whole, natural foods kinda girl. Not a big fan of fat free stuff but I may try it just to see what it's like.

3T Fat Free Carmel Topping
1 Reduced Fat Graham Cracker Crust
4T chopped pecans - toasted
1C fat free milk
1 3.5 oz instant vanilla pudding
1 C canned pumpkin
1 tsp pumpkin pie spice
1.5 C fat free cool whip

Drizzle 2T carmel topping on bottom of pie crust. Sprinkle 3T pecans on top of carmel. Set aside

Whisk milk and pudding until blended. Add pumpkin and spice, beat until blended.

Fold cool whip in to pumpkin mixture. Spread into crust.

Chill until set. Top with remaining pecans and carmel topping.
__________________________________________

I do have a pumpkin, cream cheese and kiwi pie recipe that is to die for and totally diet friendly. I'll post it this weekend...

Things...

Ten things that have blown my mind today...

1- The little Buzz Kill slept in until 6:30am. Miracle.

2- The Bigger of the Buzz Kills woke up on his own and happily got dressed for school.

3- Got to preschool and there was no snack for the kids. The mom who signed up totally spaced and left the kids hanging. I ran to the store and saved her ass. She refused to even acknowledge the save or the fact that she was responsible for the chaos. Whatever. It wasn't a big deal but still.

4- I signed up for NaBloPoMo for a reason to post some of the things I really want to say but instead I just get these meaningless posts in at the last minute. Classy ain't it?

5- Ran on the treadmill for 60 minutes and then ate half of a homemade pizza. I am still a moron just not a hungry moron anymore.

6- Andrew Zimmern is currently eating a chowder made with Cod sperm. He is a rock star because I would have run screaming out of the restaurant by now.

7- I purchase dog food at $52.00 a bag which lasts Frankie and Ernie about 1.75 weeks. And they still fart like they did on food that was $20.00 a bag.

8- My mother. That woman may have given birth to me but I'm not sure we are related. Polar opposites anyone?

9- My single with no kids sister actually agreed to watch the Buzz Kills on Sunday so Russ and I can have some sanity and do some scouting for Santa. If she backs out I plan on breaking her skinny little, single with no kids, footloose and fancy free neck. Seriously.

10- You are still reading this?

Until tomorrow. XOXOX

Excuses, Excuses

Battery is about to die along with the idea that NaBloPoMo was a good idea. One of these days y'all are going to get a real post from me. Just not tonight.

If I have any readers left, thank you. I adore you all.

I "worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was "my" true medium, a master."

37 sleeps until my favorite day of the year.

24 hours of "A Christmas Story" on TBS starts in 38 days. I will watch close to 20 of those 24 hours. 'Cuz that's how I roll, yo. I'll watch it with the kids, I'll watch it baking the last minute goodies, I'll watch it while Santa puts the presents under the tree and then I'll watch some more.

I'll also watch it while my precious little girl says "Oh Shit" for the eleven millionth time in front of anyone and everyone. Because her mommy tends to talk like a drunk sailor.

Someone give me a time out. I triple dog dare you...

Whatever Dude...

I took my new wheels for a ride this morning and ended up at Target. I know you are jealous of my rock star life but try and control yourself. I ended up at Target with all the other rock stars, okay?

Like every other rock star, I picked the never ending checkout line. In front of me was a guy that I would guess was in his 50's. We chatted about the weather, the slow cashier, etc. Then out of the blue this dude I have never seen before says this to me...

"You know I think you are really cute but those glasses really look terrible on you."

Whatever Dude. I hope you are really 35 and just look 50.

And the winner is...

Since I wanted to be fair and impartial, Eeny Meeny, Miney, Moe and I decided to hit up random.org for the lucky winner of one jar of wrist breakin' sun dried tomatoes and a $20.00 pick me up gift card from my savior, Starbucks!

A little copy and paste and here we are.

Random Integer Generator
Here are your random numbers:10
Timestamp: 2008-11-15 01:41:39 UTC

And lucky number 10 belongs to...

V @ www.Rotormommy.blogspot.com

V's comment was -

Here's 2 for ya.One night while drinking at home I went to use the bathroom. Instead of turning on the light I decided to use the small nightlight. I stood up a little too quick and as soon as I got my pants up I fell into the door and gave myself a concussion.

The second was I was in middle school down the hall one day and out of no where fell and twisted my ankle. Normally this isn't a big deal but in that time I somehow turned my ankle just right to twist a piece of bone onto a nerve. They found this 6 months later and I ended up having surgery to remove the piece of bone. I was then in a cast up to my knee for 6 weeks. All because of a twisted ankle!

I loved to hear that I am not the only one who is injury prone for no good reason! And I happen to know that V's husband could probably do something fabulous with the wrist breaking jar o' tomatoes and not break his wrist while trying to open it. But be warned, it's a really hard jar to open. Seriously.

So V, email your info to me - seriouslymama at gmail dot com and I'll get this shipped off to you lickety split!

Don't say I didn't warn you...

Answer me this...

NaBloPoMo is killing me. I have no less than 5 posts half done and trying to type with this damn splint on my wrist is nearly impossible.

I do have a few questions that need some answers though.

1- Why do car dealerships treat everyone like they are idiots? So they really think I am not going to notice when they try and push a $55,000.00 Suburban on me and tell me the payments will be "around" $400.00 per month. Dude, this is just basic math. Spew your crap at someone else. I am not an idiot. Yes, I want the new Suburban but I also want a new house. Sorry, you lose and the guy who's willing to sell me a 2008 with 11,000 miles on it for A LOT less wins.

2- Who give a flying %$#& that the pregnant man is pregnant again? He is a she and she's can get knocked up. It's all in the uterus baybee. And he/she's got one.

3- Vanilla Ice is back with a new album. An album of hip hop and rap classics. What do you think. Had been a hasbeen or still a hasbeen? It's no secret I love "Ice Ice Baby" but is it really necessary to try again?

4- Fancy private sports club membership that includes kiddy care or home equipment?

5- Beer, liquor or wine?

6- Creamy peanut butter or chunky? This is an argument we have daily in the Seriously House.

7- Warrant's Cherry Pie or Poison's Talk Dirty To Me?

8- Open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning?

9- If it's broken. Fix or buy new?

10- Kimmel, Leno or Letterman?

Girls Rock!

Go here.

Watch this.

And always support your pig tailed little rock and rollers...

You'd better watch out. You'd better not cry or open a jar or you might win something...

In my ongoing attempt at becoming the way cuter - way cooler version of Martha Stewart, I decided it was necessary to force open a new jar of sun dried tomatoes.

Seriously, it was a really hard jar to open.

So hard in fact that I managed to crack a few little bones in my left wrist.

Now here I sit with a splint on my wrist for the next six weeks. Because I'm cool like that.

Your job is to entertain me. Leave a comment and give me your best version of what story I can tell people so I don't seem like such a dork. How did I break my wrist? Old football injury? Ski jumping in the Alps? Repelling down Everest? Friday Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe and I will pick a winner.

What will you win, you ask?

A jar of wrist breaking sun dried tomatoes and a $20.00 Starbucks card to use when you need an extra little ooomph in your day. Just make sure someone else opens the tomatoes for you.

Now go and make me look like one of the cool kids and not the dorky kid who broke her wrist while jamming out to Real Life's Send Me An Angel and opening a jar of sun dried tomatoes.

A change is gonna come...

I was working on a post tonight while Nightline was on. This sentence stopped me in my tracks.

Just think about this for a minute...

"The Obama's will soon be living in a house built by slaves..."

It took my breath away. How about you?



And for what it's worth, I think Seal did an awesome job covering the great Sam Cooke.

NaBloPoMo who?

"Uh, yeah, well, my grandmother just dropped acid and hijacked a schoolbus full of penguins, so its kind of a family emergency. can you come back later?"

I got next to nothing tonight. Except a mouse in the basement. And a pile of laundry that won't be touched until that little furry rat is dead. And a Venti Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte buzz.

Who knows this quote???

Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature...

And sometimes before 25, you are just unlucky enough to be really immature. And it really sucks to have to call your parents from the county klink. And 15 years later, they still won't let you forget it.

A few weeks ago I was doing some highly intelligent, highly important social networking on this highly informative, highly important website called Twitter and during one of my highly intelligent Tweet's it was discovered that I have been one of the chosen few to have had the privilege of wearing an orange jumpsuit for a night or two. Two to be exact. I was also able to partake in the free flip flops that were given out. Trendsetters those county klinks are. Trendsetters.

As a young student of Geology in 1994, I found out that Geologists liked to drink beer and beer didn't come free. A job I had to find. And quick. Because beer didn't come free unless you were talking to the creepy guys and then it totally wasn't worth it. So I found a job. I was able to get paid enough to cover beer money and rent, keep my clothes on, keep my Mineralogy & Petrology lab schedule (two classes that should never be taken in the same semester) and wear hiking boots to work! Score.

Please don't take what I am about to write as anything more than how society worked. It is what it is and it's not fair, it's not right and it needs to change. I don't agree with it and and shameful that I bought into the behavior and used it to my advantage, even though I knew better. Live and learn. I am not here to judge...

As a cute, blond haired, suburban, white girl applying for a job in an urban big box home improvement store staffed primarily by young black males (hey, it was totally close to school) I was hired for a position that left me with a lot of responsibility and even more freedom. All because I was a white college student. I could have been a total space cadet (I wasn't) and still would have been hired because of what I looked like. They didn't give a crap about my experience or qualifications. It was all about image. This position paid way more than any other position in the store and I could be pretty much on my own. I needed a job and morals were not on the top of my list. Beer, rent, boys and school (in that order) were.

I came to work everyday on time, looked cute, did my job (or so they thought...I was really doing my lab work most days) and didn't get involved with the drama that other employees were involved in. Retail = ReSteal. Plain and simple.

One of my responsibilities was to supervise the department that handled home installations. There were several cute installers that would pop in from time to time to try and score, umm I mean say hi. They needed to give me their material invoices, have me give the stamp of approval and send them off to a job. Mindless work. That is why I was able to get an A in Mineralogy that semester.

There was one guy (of course there was) who was always overly friendly if you know what I mean. Fresh out of the SeaBee's, he was pretty fun to have lunch or a beer after work with. I had a boyfriend at the time (read: current husband) and was not playing into it as much as just having fun with it. Or so I thought.

Long story short, Mr. Honorable Navy Man was playing me for a fool. Not one invoice he ever gave me was real. There were thousands of dollars of merchandise rolling out the back door while I was reading Dr. Mursky's lecture notes. Rhodochrosite, my ass.

One day just after lunch, I started to notice a little different vibe around the store. Then I noticed a whole bunch of cops around the back office. Thinking that another employee got caught stealing, I went on with my day. A few hours later I was called into HR. Wearing a short wrap skirt, sleeveless top and sandals, I bee-bopped my way in the office where I was promptly handcuffed and given my Miranda rights.

Here's where I peed a little.

I was told that I was the being taken downtown (seriously) and was going to be questioned in the theft of materials from the store. They walked me out in handcuffs through the entire store while all the employees stared. I was put into the back of a squad car (did you know that the backseats have indentations where you can put your arms?) and drove me to jail. Because it was a Friday afternoon in a major metropolitan area, the intake room of said jail was full of freaks. Since it was Friday afternoon in a major metropolitan area the jail was also full so I was lucky enough get to spend the entire night in the intake room with all of the freaks. Me and the freaks. Male and female freaks all in one big room. Me, a naive blond haired, white girl in a wrap skirt and sandals with drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, wife beaters, drunks and God knows what else.

I was able to use the phone though. So, do I call my parents to come and rescue me immediately? Hell no, they would kill me! Do I call an attorney for help? Of course not. I called my boyfriend who was just another broke ass college student with no connections, of course. What in the hell was he going to do? Not kill me is what he was going to do. He ended up knowing more that me though so he filled me in. The detectives were looking for Mr. Honorable Navy Man and wouldn't let me go until they had him in custody. Mr. Honorable Navy Man was no where to be found though. Why step up and be honest when a 19 year old girl can take the fall for you?

So I talked at length with the detectives. They called me "cherubic" and told me they were sorry I got mixed up into this, blah, blah, blah. What they were not going to do however was let me go. This went on for over 20 hours.

Saturday morning, I was given my orange jump suit, flip flops and pillow. They sent me to a "unit" and told me my court date would be on Monday. Thank you and goodnight.

Here's where I start loosing it.

They locked me into a cell with this crazy old black woman who wanted nothing more than to make me her bitch. She petted my hair (I am not joking) and told me how she was "innocent, she didn't kill that bitch." She gave me the lowdown on who to stay away from and what guard would bring you a cigarette and a candy bar if you gave him a little somthin' somthin'. I was too damn scared to sleep for fear my innocence would be taken by a big, black she-male. So instead I asked her if I could read her copy of The Shining.

People, I couldn't make this up even if I tried.

I read The Shining.
In jail.
While not sleeping.
On the top bunk.
Of an 8x8 foot jail cell.
With a big.
Black.
She-male.
Underneath me.
Planning how to turn me into her love slave.

The next day I caved. I called Mom and Dad. They were beyond pissed and hung up on me. They hung up on me during my only phone call. THEY HUNG UP ON ME DURING MY ONLY PHONE CALL.

A few hours later my 17 year old sister was waiting behind the glass with one of those phones in her hand. I was led into the other side of the visiting booth in handcuffs. My sister busted out with "You are way better off in here. Mom and Dad are going to kill you." "See ya sucka. Can I have your car?" "Brenda, there are people having sex between the glass next to us." "Mom and Dad are going to kill you." "See ya at your funeral." "I told them to let you wear the red dress because you are so going to hell."

Mom and Dad posted my bail and drove me home. They wouldn't even take me to my apartment first so I could try and escape. They drove straight home without saying a word. My sister of course didn't shut up. At home they told me to shower and go to bed. I was sure they were going to discuss the best options for putting me out of my misery. But no such luck. I was screamed at starting early the next morning until our late afternoon appointment with my parent's attorney.

Several court dates later, I was charged with a misdemeanor for party to a crime (of which
I had no idea was occurring) or something like that, given my sentence of two days already served and sent on my way.

Except two days already served is really a lifetime sentence of hearing about the reputation I chose to lay upon my self as a convict. According to the people who posted my bail at least.

And they made me move home for a semester and commute.

And my street cred went right back into suburban oblivian.
__________________________________________

If anyone knows the movie that this post title came from you will receive my unwavering devotion for life. Tainted reputation included.

Gettin' busy...

No, not that way. Jeez. Mind out of the gutters, people. Seriously.

It's 10:00pm and I haven't opened my laptop for over 12 hours. That's busy. There were trips to the doctor, pizza parlor (for them not me HASAY-ers, I had a salad) a Target excursion, and then my dear husband surprised me with a "I'm really proud of you" card and a little cash-ola for a mommy me time shopping trip which I gladly accepted because my jeans are falling off my shrinking hips and I really wanted to buy a new pair of shoes which I totally don't need but I really wanted.

Whew, how was that for a run on sentence? Mad skills I tell ya.

I'll be back tomorrow and promise to do a real post tomorrow but for now I will leave you with this because I have missed my last two Flashback Friday's. It's the last song I heard on my iPod tonight and totally stayed in the driveway until it was over. One of my favorites.

Good Night!

Club HASAY update part one...

After a full week of hard core healthful eating, 60 minutes of cardio per day and enough water to float away on, I managed to lose 5 pounds this week which puts me at 31 pounds total so far. Getting closer to my goal everyday!

For those of you who want the Weight Watcher insider tips, stay tuned. I'm working on a HASAY tip sheet for y'all...

I'll be back tomorrow with more info but right now I am exhausted and my poor little girl is asleep on my shoulder with a stuffy nose and bad cough. Not to mention I am typing one handed which takes mad skills.

It's just one cold after another here. I hope we get a break soon.

Dr. Knuckles

This girl and this guy meet in 1992 and after two years of "we're just friends" they finally fall madly in love. This guy and this girl get married in 1999 not because she wanted to wait that long but because it took him way to long to ask. This guy and this girl find themselves with a bun in the oven in 2004. This guy and this girl spend the next eight weeks freaking the hell out and wondering just what they got themselves into.

This guy and this girl walk into this OB office when this girl was eight weeks pregnant and puking her guts out with this guy's demon seeded spawn inside her womb. This guy and this girl meet a doctor. A doctor who came highly recommended by the this's friends. A doctor who would soon be expanding his practice and hiring two new doctors. One of his new hires would be an rockin' awesome, earthy crunchy, mom of two and the other? The other was a ex-marine, hard ass, father of four, military OB who was back in the states after serving his country and delivering babies in third world countries for twenty years.

Guess which OB got assigned to this girl and this guy's pregnancy? Umm, no. The other one.

This girl thought "Hey, what the hell, I'll give him a chance to overcome his reputation and then kick him to the curb." "How bad can one visit be?"

So this girl brushes her teeth, tries to zip up her jeans that are way too close to not fitting, tried to button her shirt that is definitely not going to button, and heads out to her first appointment with Dr. Reputation. Upon arrival at the office this girl gets the lowdown on what happens at every visit. You know, the cup??? This girl gets into the exam room, praying that she doesn't barf in the waste basket. Finally the moment this girl had been waiting for. This girl meets this doctor.

"Hmm, not bad. Friendly, not bad looking, nice handshake. No overt weirdness. Seems intelligent and has a ton of experience." "Definite possibility."

So this girl, this guy and this doctor begin their relationship. There are freak out questions in the middle of the night, there are monthly weighs and measures, there are budding bumps, there are bumpity bump heart beats checks. There are ultra sounds, there are non stress tests. Maternity clothes and yoga pants. There are cute flats and there are clogs. Skips of excitement turn into waddles of wonder.

Thirty eight weeks after this guy and this girl find out about their little experiment they meet this doctor at the hospital. This girl is ready for this baby to be out of her and this doctor says it's time.

This girl's body isn't quite ready to have this baby so this doctor decides to help this girl along a bit. This doctor decides he is going to do a little strippin' o' membranes to this girl.

This girl finds out the hard way that this doctor has hands as big as a gorilla. Seriously.

"Brenda, this may be a bit uncomfortable for a minute."

"Holy F#^$*%) C)#*$@. Oh (#&@#, Are you (#$&@_ )#$&@&^@? Get your damn hands out of me."

"There, that wasn't so bad. If this doesn't work, I'll do it again in a few hours."

"Like hell you will ever do that again. Get me the hell out of here. I plan on staying pregnant forever you masochistic freak."

"Wow, congratulations, your water just broke." "I'll be back later..."

"Umm, okay Dr. KNUCKLES."

This doctor, besides having hands that Jane Goodall would study, ended up being the man who would help me bring two babies into this world. I adore him, not because I too am a masochistic freak but because he was there when this girl and this guy heard their babies for the first time. He was there for the weighs, the measures, the skips and the waddles.

He was there to argue about Obama vs. McCain today too. And any guy who can argue politics while doing a pap smear? He's good with me.

Hope for their future.

Tonight Barack Obama was elected to serve as our 44th President of the United States of America.

I have hope for their future.

Hope that they most certainly do not understand right now.

Someday may they look back at this night with the same hope and anticipation at what they can accomplish next.

Our exercise in futility...

It's November 3rd. Day three of NaBloPoMo!!! Today's high temperature in the Town That Time Forgot was 68 degrees! 68 degrees? In November? In Wisconsin?

Unreal. Awesome and unreal.

We decided that since it was such an amazing day that we'd try and get some family pictures at the local nature center. Two of us thought that would be a great idea and two of us? Not so much.

We fought tooth and nail just to get a shot or two. I am still too wiped to even begin to look at our final results. But this is the lowdown...

Get dressed in picture outfits.
Eat M&M cookies and smear the aftermath all over said outfits.
Take the playdough that they were playing with this morning and smash it in each other's hair.
Time to get in the car.
Fight, fight, fight your way out of the car seat until your life is threatened and all thoughts of ever eating ice cream again slowly fade to black.
Agree to get buckled in because we have to drive by the ice cream shop on the way home.
Get to nature center.
Run as fast as you can away from the parental units.
Parental Units dish out the ice cream threat again.
Retreat back to said Units.
Attempt to cooperate just until the picture is about to be snapped, then pick your nose.
Try picture again. Except this time punch your sibling because they are touching you.

Is it really necessary to continue?

I am exhausted and waving the white flag. I'll post some of our results on day four.

Please vote tomorrow! We can't have change in this country if we are not willing to put in a little effort to get our opinions heard.

I'm sure I'll have another good Octogenarian Polling Center Nazi story for you tomorrow.

Im doing NaBloPoMo, send medication...

Since I really haven't posted anything of real substance in a long time, I decided that this is a great way to get a push and finally put down on electronic paper the things that have been floating around in my head.

There is still time if you want to join. Click on over to the NaBloPoMo site and sign up.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Last night was close to a big fail as far as candy hoarding goes. The bigger of the L's decided that it was way more fun to answer the door for his "customers" than it was going door to door asking for candy. The little L on the on the other hand? Trick or Treating with wild abandon. There was no stopping her. "Teet" she would say when a door opened and "Cue" was her thanks for the toddler crack she just scored.

When we pulled into the driveway we could see that the bigger of the L's closet light was flickering and it was definitely not some practical joke. Russ was determined that the light fixture just needed to be looked at. He tore the entire thing apart, installed a new one "just in case" and is desperately trying to prove to me that this house isn't haunted.

Good luck bud. This house is totally haunted and I am heading to Mad Town tomorrow to find some freaky hippy to sell me some sage to burn.

If you are doing NaBloPoMo, leave me a comment and I'll add you to the blogroll! Good luck!