Mystery solved! It's EYEBALLS!!!!!

So some of you might remember this post which may or may not have been too much information, but people this is some funny shit.

The Zanester was getting out of the shower the other night, and out of nowhere offered up some very important information.

"Do you know why it takes me so long to poop sometimes?"

"No, honey, I don't"

"They Bodder me."

"What bodders you honey?"

"Eyeballs"

he points to the floor where this sits



(sidebar - there is no cute little fluffy puppy in our bathroom)

"No problem, honey" I said, and threw the toilet paper under the sink.

"Now you should be fine."

"Nope." and he points to the area between the toilet and the sink cabinet....



(Eyeballs, people, eyeballs)

So I throw that under the sink as well.

"Well that should be it, right?"

"Nope." (and he points to the sink)



Yeah, that's right, he has a Spongebob Toothbrush....with eyeballs.

So we turn that around, and move the damn Dr. Seuss toothpaste to the side as well...because, well eyeballs



The pooping process has been much faster since then. Weird right? I know. But the EYEBALLS!!!! They BODDER him!!!

Did any of you feel like you were being watched when you were seven years old? Is this normal?


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Excellent Injury Thursday #3

It's been a long time since I started this series. This particular "excellent injury" really doesn't compare to this one or this one. At least the end result picture doesn't do it justice like the previous ones.

So anyway, we had our redneck caps on and were sporting our rebel flags. (not really) We were at the mud pit gettin' our jeeps dirtay.




That is totally me. Proof? You need proof? Well here I am conducting a little business after my last run.




I wasn't conducting business at all. I was trying to locate our buddy with the rope because the Oilybeauhunk was stuck. No way I was pulling him out! He's got a jeep too, and I had already been stuck...twice.



I located the puller-outer and we continued to get dirtay.

However, when the beer was gone day was done, we headed home for the arduous task of cleaning the dirtay vehicles.

We parked in the driveway and assessed our situation.

Mud.Lots.Of.Mud.

The Oilybeauhunk did the proper thing and gathered hoses, and scrub brushes and cleaning supplies. I did what every respectable redneck wannabe does and went in the house to don my bikini top and daisy dukes. (Isn't that how you are supposed to dress to wash a car?) I thought so.

So, we are hosing, and scrubbing and washing and hosing....(not that kind of hosing - not in the driveway anyway - unless it's dark out and the neighbors are asleep - note to self, check u-tube).

I saw a clump of mud on my windshield. At the top, in the middle, I couldn't quite reach it. What does a drunk redneck girl in a bikini top and daisy dukes do in that situation?

She climbs up on the wet and soapy hood of her jeep to get said clump of mud. Duh!

While I was up there on that wet and soapy hood of the jeep, some dudes drove by and waved. So I did what every redneck girl would do. I flashed my boobs waved back!...while kneeling on the hood, of the jeep, wet with soap.

So, yeah, I slipped RIGHT OFF, landed on the driveway directly on my kneecap and then fell over into the muddy yard. "I need the hose" I yelled. The Oilybeauhunk hadn't seen a thing (whew). He had the Zanester bring me the hose.

"Mom's in the dirt, Oilybeauhunk"

"What?"

"What happened, Kaila?"

"Nothing, I just need the hose."

"Why are you in the mud? What the fuck happened to your knee?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. You slid off the damn jeep didn't you."

"?"

"Go sit down, I think you are in shock."

"OK"

Turns out, I was in shock. My knee hurt like hell, and I had to ice it down for eight hours. I limped for 4 days.

Here's a pretty lame picture from a couple days later...




Sorry I didn't get a better one, but the story should stand for itself. Do any of you have excellent injury stories? If so, you must share. I have plenty more.



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Meandering Monday

To the other Mommy readers - Do you ever have one of those days, moments, hours, whatever, where your kid drives you absolutely b*o*n*k*e*r*s? I know the answer is yes, I just want to share my most recent one.

We were on our way to IHOP for breakfast. A once a in blue moon event. From the backseat there is a little voice.

"Mom? Why do love bugs stick their butts together?"

"And Mom? When do the love bugs show up?"

"And Mom? Can beetles poop?"

"And Mom? My friend says beetles eat their own poop."

"Mom? When do caterpillars come out?"

"I like caterpillars."

"And Mom?" Why do snails pee?"

"Mom? What is that yellow thingy?"

I kid you not people, all of these questions in a period of 10 minutes. CRAZY 7 year old boy minds.....

*************************************************************************************

At IHOP, a family was seated in the booth behind us. I overheard part of their order, and it went a little something like this:

man - "I'll have the (insert whatever omelet comes with salsa inside and on top) but I don't want any tomatoes."

waitress - "So, no salsa then?"

man - "No, I want the salsa, just no tomatoes."

me (and most likely the waitress) - "?"

Whatever peeps - Happy Monday!

Beetlejuice in my pocket....

I know it has been awhile, and I know it has only been about the Zanester lately, but this cannot go unpublished.

I picked him up from school today. We had the usual conversation about how his day was, and did he have any homework, yada yada yada.

All of a sudden....

"Ooooh, Mom!"

"Yes?"

"I have something for you in my pocket..."

Now I ask you my dear few readers, what do you think it was?

Was it a love note?

Was it a pretty drawing?

Was it a kiss or a hug?

NO.

This boy, this little love of mine had a pocket full of goodness.

A pocket full of joy.

A pocket full what every mom wants her beloved son to bring home to her....





That's right, beetles - seven of them to be exact.

What has your little sunshine brought home for you?


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His first attempt at a lie....sort of

It's been cold here lately. I sent Zane to school with a sweatshirt. When we got home last night, he went straight to his PSP and I went straight to his back pack to check homework, etc.

me - "Zane, where is the sweatshirt you wore to school?"

Zane from the other room... "You can see it on the 'puter."

me - "What?"

Zane - "On the 'puter, at school, you can see pictures."

me - "What are you talking about? Where is your sweatshirt?"

Zane - "Problee on the 'puter, they have cameras at school and you can see pictures of stuff."

me - "So, you lost your sweatshirt?

Zane - "Yeah"

me - "Short answers work best, honey."

Zane - "Huh?"

me - "Never mind."



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Six signs I am failing as a mother...

It is becoming clear that I am lacking in my motherly skills to my just recently turned 7 year old boy. I am coming to this conclusion as evidenced by the following:


1. The Zanester has a new morning routine. It involves burping the alphabet, and then taking a bow, followed by a fart.

2. He has been on a steady diet for two weeks, eating only one of the following two items; Chef-Boy-R-Dee spaghettios with meatballs, or ravioli with meatballs. That is it.

3. He has begun to proclaim how much things "suck". Such as, "I don't want to play my game anymore, I'm sucking." Or while watching American Idol during tryouts, with the awful people, he would calmly announce that "She/he sucks."

4. When the dogs do something stupid, he proclaims that they are "an ass".

(side note, at least he isn't combining them and saying "SuckAss")

5. He doesn't/can't grasp the concept of washing his hands before he eats because, dude, your nails are black.

6. And finally, this morning, I watched in horror as he pulled a dirty ball of wax out of his ear, closely inspected it, and.Then.Put.It.Back.In.His.Ear....

Where did I go wrong?


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Eff you, Stormy

Is anyone familiar with this website< Because this is how I feel about Stormy, also known as laid back dog.

This dog is FAT. She can squeeze her fat ass *out* of the "doggy door", but it looks like a sausage going through the ringer. She cannot, however, get back in. Weird, I know.

There are times though, where she is lazy, and if you are anywhere near said doggy door, she will just stand there staring at it and wagging her tail, while looking back at you with a look on her face that says "um, open this door because there is some person or dog, or squirrel, or UFO, or Jehovah Witness, or GodIDontKnow, but there is something or someone that isn't really there that I must immediately wake up from a dead sleep and squeeze through that infernal cat/dog door to go bark at."

Getting back in is a whole different story because going out, she steps down about 4 inches, therefore trying to get back in, well, umm, she gets stuck. So she resorts to sticking her head in and out of the door. Good Lord, the head poking through the magnetic little door drives me effing batty. Head in, magnetic strip click, head out, magnetic strip clap, head in, magnetic strip click, head out, magnetic strip click clap, head in.......... you get the point.........

I often want to poke needles into my eyes because of the torture she puts me through with the Clicking.Oh.The.Clicking.

For the record, she hardly ever (read: never) (except for the other night) goes out in the middle of the night. Recently, one night, she had to make an emergency "evacuation" in the middle of the night. I heard her squeeze her fat ass through the kitty/doggy door and then fell back into a nice comfortable slumber. Until I was awoken to the sounds of a fucking bull in a china shop. Fatass, Stormy, tried to get back in through the door herself. By ramming it over and over. It doesn't work this way people. It sounded like a plane was crash landing on our house.

*BOOM* Stormy ramming the door
*BOOM* Stormy trying to break the door off it's hinges
overandoverandover until she busts her way through.

Her shoulders don't fit coming back in... this is a neverending story.

Kill me now - or just take the dog............please?

More unfortunate conversations with the OilyBeauHunk....

So President Obama was in mah hood today. I watched the whole thing at work on my computer. My man took his little "hurricane TV" to work with him so he could watch in his Jeep at lunch. Did y'all see McDonald's boy? Good Lord.

So tonight, we were discussing the townhall meeting.

Man: I would have hit McDonald's boy square in the face and then raised my hand for a question.

me: OK, and then what?

Man: I would say, "Mr. President, what, exactly are you going to do with people like us whose home is worth less than half of their mortgage? "

me: He addressed that honey, he will be making a statement in the next two weeks about the mortgage crisis.

Man: Horseshit, I would raise my hand again and say "You are here in the foreclosure capital of the country to tell us what you are going to do, I want an answer now."

me: No, Honey, that is not exactly why he was here. He was here to talk about the stimulus package.

Man: What? Well then, that's when I would go batshit crazy -

me: (cutting him off) and that is when the Secret Service would escort you out swiftly and quietly.

Man: "Don't tase me bro!"


laughter..............

ps: Zane's big take on the day? "All those motorcycles were cool!"



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Brain Fart - Yo!

Hi All!
This is my 100 year old cat Mad Hettie.




She is demonstrating how I feel right now - and she's doing it well.....




Poor kitteh.....



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Roller Heaven & Hell

Throughout Junior High and part of High School, I lived at the Paramount Skating Rink. Roller skating was my life, my passion, my thing. Actually, I went because the skating rink was next door to the bowling alley, so our parents were able to do their league thing while us kids were safely next door skating our brains out. And also because I knew that eventually, Aaron would show up.

I had my very own pair of skates and they looked like this:



Except I had big pink pom poms with bells on them.

I can still remember waiting fervently for Aaron to show up at the rink. He was the skating God. I was in love. He was my first crush. He was handsome and (in my eyes)he could do everything. I would hone my skating skills until he got there and wait with bated breath for the "ladies choice slow skate". I would stalk him in the arcade and follow him to the concession area. Occasionally he would agree to the slow skate, but my unrequited love was always there. I would go home and cry and cry and cry, because "Mom, he just doesn't love me the way I love him." Teenage love and angst is a bitch.

Don Henley's song "Dirty Laundry" was a sure bet for the backward skate, and I was out there every time. I could do the crazy figure eight thing with my skates, both forward and backward. I was awesome.

Of course there were the skating games like the limbo, and the dice game and shooting the duck, (which I almost always won).

When the movie Boogie Nights came out, my little brother started calling me Roller Girl, even though I hadn't been skating in years.

So when Zane, the Great White Lizard Hunter, started begging me to go roller skating, I was all over it.

I told him how awesome I was, I bragged like a school girl - then we got to the rink Sunday afternoon, and I put on my pair of rented skates.

Roller skating is not like riding a bike, people. 25 years can do a lot to a person. I stood up, still confident, and promptly almost ate shit.

I got my bearings, and was able to make it around the rink. I even did the backward skate, but the fancy figure eights eluded me, and my arms did a lit of wind-milling!

Meanwhile, the little guy was doing circles around me in his roller blades. Show Off!

I think my favorite part of this experience were they guys. The guys my age and older, who apparently never stopped skating since the 80's. They were going around in circles, tightly packed together, skating their signature moves in line with one another, shoulders bouncing up and down. 40 something guys skating disco-like to Rihanna's Disturbia is just a little unnerving! They thought they were the shit though, and they were showing off for us Moms just like we were back in Junior High and patiently waiting for the slow skate so they could act all cool in the arcade while us girls scoped them out and begged for a partner.




Today, I am sore, but I am happy to have relived that experience, and look forward to going again. I even picked out a brand new pair of pretty white skates with pink wheels and laces. I might just get them. I'll forego the poms poms this time, though.

Do you guys have any fun skating rink memories?