tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26049134622322635042024-03-05T18:59:58.844-08:00Late Nights and Cold CoffeeImaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-62556639237200978832011-03-31T08:17:00.000-07:002011-03-31T08:17:12.251-07:00The joy of serving again.to all you people who wanted to go to a restaurant because you didn't want to cook, but<br />
didn't really want to deal with the customer service side of things because you think it seems<br />
demeaning to the people who 'serve' you, but you didn't want to drive to a buffet because<br />
you don't want to pollute the air with your expensive gas emmissions, and because<br />
'buffet food isn't healthy' and you've decided to come into my establishment, FUCK YOU.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-53886244965631339732011-01-28T05:09:00.000-08:002011-01-28T05:09:43.561-08:00I wonder if house-husbands are anything like house Hippos?So remember when I said (in sideline) that I offered to switch places with hubby to shut him up, and I would go back to work, and he would stay home?<br />
A big YaY to that coming true.<br />
<br />
He's done on the 11th of Feb. and I start back at my jobs(see plural, although, funny enough, I don't have to work as many hours as he does to make the same pay, and I'm in town) on Consumerist Valentine's day, which upon returning home I expect a fucking super romantic and fantastic meal from my newly appointed house-husband. my man-bitch, if you will. (cuz, you know, I was planning on making spaghetti and asking hubby to re-enact lady and the tramp with it, hopefully enraging him to the point that he leave the dinner <s>table </s>couch, therefore leaving me more yummy spaghetti.)<br />
<br />
What's even more funny is that I'm excited about this. Hubby must have asked what the right decision would be to me, and if I was sure, and if I was sure <i>I was sure,</i> etc, and on, and on. He made sure he double and triple checked to make sure we could have transition time to get youngest used to daddy-all-day, and wean baby off boob. Not necessarily boob milk, but boob, which actually comes just in time as youngest is cutting three teeth at once, so that would suck. I don't know why they call it cutting teeth, it would probably be more humane to actually cut the gums and let the teeth come through, cuz right now all I see are teeth through thin layer of gum, a tray of ice cubes being gnawed away every day, and little clam-shaped bruises on my shoulders. But I digress.<br />
<br />
So after much discussion and worrying, and a tiny bit of bullshit, my hubby is on his vacation for the next two weeks, and then he takes over the remainder of my parental, which is only going to be for the next three months anyways, but it gives us transition time to find the right amount of hours for me to work to cover that cash.<br />
<br />
Ohhh, my poor hubby. I don't think he's quite realized what he's gotten himself into. this will be fun!Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-60441344168946759202011-01-26T07:03:00.000-08:002011-01-26T07:03:00.191-08:00pain.vs. Shut you faceHubby's just gone back to work on Monday after a week off with a bum knee. Before he went on workers comp, he was ready to quit because, well, the week he hurt his knee also happened to be the week his head went 'Fuck Sleeping!' and since he thinks a man isn't supposed to see a doctor unless it's broken or gushing blood (and even then), he just let his injuries fester until his boss noticed that he was limping and looked like shit. (That's my brave strong man...) Of course he works out of a truck, so his boss didn't get to see him like this until friday when he went to drop off paperwork.<br />
Then he spent this last week at home, bored out of his mind and unable to leave the house, since the injury turned out to be a second degree MCL sprain on his right knee, which is the driving knee. So he spent the whole week rearranging my kitchen, critiqing my mommy skills, rearranging those, writing out new schedules for youngest so that he can get the most out of the day, and then bitching that youngest doesn't like him, because, while youngest is teething, he prefers my shoulders to daddy's to bite, so he's not been really all that cuddly to daddy at all.<br />
<br />
Therefore, I was extremely excited for this past Monday to come, as I would have my house to myself, my kitchen could be put back to order, and my son's schedule put to rights as well. But on Sunday night, I heard murmers and whines of what he had said on the days leading up to his week off, about him hating the company, and wanting to quit, though there were no ways out of it, that he really should just take me up on the offer of transfering the remainder of the parental benifits over to him and having Me go back to work(yes, people I offered to go back to work just to shut him up, because I know within three weeks of us having switched places, he will be begging me to switch back.)<br />
<br />
So I sent him a love note on Monday, via video text, with this lovely contraption. I have to say my Efforts were not all that greatly received.<br />
<br />
<br />
<object height="390" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/D4Nm8vw7PzM&rel=0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/D4Nm8vw7PzM&rel=0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="500" height="400"></embed></object><br />
<br />
Here's the link if you want to try it out yourself. <a href="http://www.dramabutton.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc;">DRAAAMMAAA!!!!!!!</span></a>Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-43550851469414800582011-01-25T07:02:00.000-08:002011-01-25T07:02:50.956-08:00Hotdog Fingers?Youngest is teething. yay. This wouldn't be a horrible thing, usually, but he seems to be teething both his bottom and one of his tops all at the same time. He doesn't sleep for more than an hour, he rubs his face on everything, (which either pokes him in the eye or he headbutts.) he bites EVERYTHING (My shoulders are going to have permanent bruising, and my shirts have shoulder holes) he's clingy, whiny, fever-ey, rash-ey, and all around bitchy. This has run for about a week and will continue to run until his body gives up on fighting these nefarious enameled stabby things, and when the bitches finally pop through.<br />
We tried oragel, but he sorta started choking on his own spit, so we ditched that idea and used the rest of the tube on ourselves. that was kinda fun...<br />
We tried icecubes in cheesecloth, but they melted to fast, and dribbled all over the carpet.<br />
We tried just a cold washcloth, but he wouldn't touch it unless our fingers were inside it. Hubby had the ingenious thought that we could replace our fingers with a hotdog. I made him clean up the mess.<br />
We tried teething toys, but he chewed on one so hard, or twisted it or something, that it cracked and I think the stale distilled water inside kinda put him off any other toy going in his mouth. Which is both a good and bad thing.<br />
<br />
So now we just use our fingers, and will bank this in the 'things to embarress youngest with when he's older, and possibly <s>blackmail to get money out of</s> get him to contribute to our retirement fund.'<br />
Also, luckily for us, he's now pulling himself up on everything, so everything goes in his mouth, and although I've been trained once before, hubby has yet to find out that baby-proofing means 'put every fucking thing you own up higher than 4.21 feet, or else it's fucking garbage or a trip to the E.R.', though I'm sure he'll find out soon enough.<br />
<br />
Anyways,<br />
just a small update since I really seem to have shit the bed since the beginning of this year.<br />
yeahImaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-86403476013007879842011-01-15T07:31:00.000-08:002011-01-25T07:32:57.485-08:00Happy National Oatmeal Month! random bits.So yeah, National Oatmeal month. I subscribe to a lot of recipe websites aand everyone seems to be going bonkers with the 156,783 different ways to make oatmeal, so, yay...<br />
<br />
I give winter the Big Dislike when I'm not working. It's never the right temperature in a house you don't leave for three days or more. Right now it's soo cold I'm wearing two sweaters, (though eldest is 'kay in his jammie pants.. crazy person) and when I opened my cupboard to get out a coffee mug, I caught a breeze that sent a shiver through me. Jeez! Even my cupboards are cold!<br />
<br />
My hubby possibly is going to have the next week or two off, depending on what the doctors say. He busted his knee up pretty bad on MONDAY! and since then is has gotten more swollen and painful, and while he's a stalwart employee, he's a whiny little bitch at home, and after finally getting caught by his boss almost collapsing, he's being sent to a doctor's today, and might be on worker's comp for a week or two.Hubby has never liked to take advantage of the system, and so didn't really know much about worker's comp until boss filled him in. Hubby is somewhat surprised and excited by this. Me, not so much... Don't get me wrong, I loves my hubby, but I hates his whining, and for a man who can't even keep his legs still whilst sitting, this isn't going to be so much the relaxing stay-cation he's hoping as it is the torture fest of the 'you have to stay off it and ice it's' that he's going to forget about 5 minutes into his 'recuperation'...Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-11781532010187361092011-01-12T07:47:00.000-08:002011-01-12T07:47:40.411-08:00Oh TV... how could you?I watch a fair amount more TV now than before I met hubby. Not that I sit on the couch to do so, I can't sit still for that long, but I never had a TV subscription before we moved in together.<br />
There. Good to get That out of the way. Also, be careful whilst reading. This could get fucking Epic. or reaally bitchy...<br />
<br />
I like Watching the Biggest Loser. I like it because it's the only reality game show where the contestants, while competing for a big money prize, are really there for their health and their families, and that they build a network of friendships while in there, that has surprisingly spiderwebbed out to all the contestants over the years. A-maz-ing. They even have developed a program that donates food to the needy, and lets people lose weight at the same time. It's become a Power brand in itself.<br />
<br />
I also really liked the fact that when two seasons ago there was a red shirted contestant who really wanted the competition, and tried to turn her stay into something surviver-y, and she got promptly kicked out for her bad attitude. Even when the network brought her back as a 'wildcard' player, the contestants promptly threw her out again, and it wasn't in a ganged up on kind of way, she just hadn't changed her thought process away from scheming when she was gone, so she lost the challenges that would have kept her in the house.<br />
<br />
I also really admire the trainers, Bob and Jillian. They Are the show, they Are what makes it real. They are there everyday to push these people to success, they actually deal with the underlying issues, the causes for their weight gain, they show them how to fix their diet and make it fun, or painful, as they choose, they help them regain confidence and self-esteem, and basically all around kick-assed-ness. Without them, there would just be a bunch of big people trying to work out in a gym.<br />
<br />
This year the Network(NBC) has brought on two new trainers. which normally wouldn't really have been a big deal, just like when you're seeing more of the doctor in these new seasons. A new add in. But. They didn't tell anyone about these new trainers. Not even bob and jill. They don't let you know anything about them other than they are a man and woman, the man with a degree in I think sports med, and a woman who was in the golden gloves league of boxing. They let the contestants pick whether they wanted to stay at the ranch with Bob And Jillian, or go to a 'secret location' with these two new trainers they know nothing about. The extra bait? If they go to the new trainers, they get 4 weeks of immunity, which is<i> not getting kicked off the show.</i> So all the sudden, these contestants who were all wary and unsure of these training nobodies, were like, 4 free weeks of training? yes. I'll try out the newbies.<br />
<br />
I dislike this. They haven't shown many clips of the secret location, but what they do show is a lot of yelling, not really a lot of working on people's heads right from the start, and a lot of trash talk to the ranch team. I also learned that they are going to reveal the mystery trainers next Tuesday. I'm not sure I want them to. I foresee a lot of the contestants who worked with them having a big gain-back when the 4 week free-for all is over, or their success in the long run minimized or reversed because they haven't had the full package that bob and jill give. Plus, I don't know if they've seen the doctor yet, which is usually a big turning start point in a lot of contestants health changes. I think they should keep the mystery trainers a mystery so that if it doesn't bank well, they can forget about it and move on. Not once in this show, even when the teams are Bob vs. Jillian, has there ever been trash talk and beat downs. It's not permitted. It's negative. Last night the host, Ali something(from days of our lives) repeated a word from the mystery team's trash talk, and Bob lost it on her. It was very re-affirming for the original trainers not to cop into this bullshit.<br />
<br />
This last week the home team had a challenge that if they lost more weight as a whole percentage than the mystery team, then No one would get booted off for the week.They also had a mid-week challenge against the mystery team for a three pound advantage. Even though they lost the mid week challenge, horribly, they banded together to do their best to Keep them together. And you know what? They won the weight challenge. By 11 pounds. And I was proud.<br />
<br />
But I'm keeping my eye on you, NBPeacock station. I dislike this bullshit 'competition'. It was that before, and more. Don't reduce the show's value by this stupidity. I'm all for changing things up every once in a while, but this is not the way to do it.<br />
<br />
<br />
p.s. Sorry for the rant, but this really bugs me. TV has taken the only reality show of any redeeming value, and is trying to crush that value out with degradation and stupidity. not cool.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-59639390791879387852011-01-10T09:10:00.000-08:002011-01-10T09:10:33.064-08:00Nanana boo boo, I stick my tongue out atchooAny one remember Dawson's Creek? Anyone?<br />
<br />
Well, there is n entire website dedicated to James van der what's-his-nuts, and memes of him making facial expressions.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_left25CWUw1qf8yek.gif" /><br />
<br />
this one's my favorite.<br />
<br />
oh yeah, the website.<a href="http://www.jamesvandermemes.com/page/2"> Here</a><a href="http://here./">.</a><br />
<br />
or just click and paste.<br />
<a href="http://www.jamesvandermemes.com/page/2">http://www.jamesvandermemes.com/page/2</a>Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-64053817020655091042011-01-06T07:00:00.000-08:002011-01-06T07:00:16.051-08:00Resolute to resolve yourself. wait. what?Okay, So 2011 got off to a...... slow... start. Much like 2010 ended. Nothing has changed, and no resolutions come to mind, as whenever I make resolutions, I pretty much fuck them up the first day, which turns into big downward spiral of self-pity and more doing of the thing I was resoluting not to do. So. I'm not making any resolutions this year, in the hopes that my gym visits will stay frequent, my smoking habit continue to decrease, my healthy eating stays where it is, and my children grow, as they will, with or without my help.<br />
<br />
Also, I think I finally convinced my husband that my job makes more money and is more useful than his, so when I get off mat. leave I;m going back to it.<br />
List:<br />
<br />
My job: Quasi-Governmental<br />
His Job: Chips.<br />
My Job: Benefits and Pension Plan<br />
His Job: Benefits as long as he doesn't take a distributorship, and if he does, then nothing.<br />
My Job: Starting wage of Awesome, with due increase every whenever, due to union, steady.<br />
His Job: starting wage of blah, with surprising increase of pretty okay with sprinkles of commission every once in a while.<br />
My Job: Bids to get better positions, seniority (even while I'm on mat leave!)<br />
His Job: Sort-of Seniority, depending on whether there's anyone available for the job, or whether the company just decides to hire it out to someone else.<br />
My Job: Gets me out of the house on a daily basis with weekends off, guaranteed<br />
His Job: Gets him out of the city, sometimes for weeks on end, and not always guaranteed weekends off, keeps me locked in our house..<br />
<br />
Overall, My job seems to have a bit more appeal. just a bit. So, maybe in april.....sorta exciting!Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-12953843409280935222011-01-04T07:25:00.000-08:002011-01-04T07:25:22.784-08:00Shhh, it's quiet timeMy quiet time is when my eldest and Hubby are at school and work, respectively, my youngest is asleep, and I'm downstairs sitting on the dryer having a smoke and coffee. There's a little crack in the wall of the basement where the dryer vent goes, and in the winter, and when the dryer is on, it is simultaneously the coldest and hottest place in the house. It's perfect.<br />
<br />
So here's my question. Where and when is your quiet time?<br />
few, if any will probably answer this, but whatever. Get it out there if you want.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-34172172405032271082010-12-31T08:08:00.000-08:002010-12-31T08:08:10.641-08:00I'd apologize, but I've been tending to the 'dying'. Also, I live in the same house with the best bunch of actors I've seen since Spartacus.So here it is, New years is upon us, and I dropped the ball. I meant to get a post in everyday this month, but X-mas came, followed by boxing day, followed by three days of every male member of my family getting fevers and rashes. Although the only whining that was really necessary was perhaps from the baby... These are my excuses. So here I am, exhausted and a little worried about the New Year, full of last minute prep for the house gathering I didn't know I was having until 4 o'clock this morning, barely existing off caffeine and sugar from all the baking that no one ate on x-mas. I'm probably going to ring in the new year by sleeping in my youngest's room while the party goes on around me. Such is the life of a mom I guess...<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Updated:</u></b><br />
So I guess when I was talking with hubby I misunderstood him, it being, you know,<i><u> <b>4 in the god-damned morning</b></u></i>. Apparently the gathering is not here, but at one of hubby's friends house. And we're just to bring one thing for the 'potluck'. I told him I'm not leaving the house with two small children in tow if I'm not sure I'll be able to stay awake to watch them. So<i><b> I'm</b></i> going to spend a quiet new years at home with my kiddies, bestest Saskabusch friend and a bottle of wine, and hubby and anyone else is welcome to join us, since I have now made enough party snacks to feed a small army. fuck sakes. guys have no management skills. Dumbass.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-12307161941700847792010-12-23T09:25:00.000-08:002010-12-23T10:22:52.645-08:00How coffee helped me turn into a Real girlI started drinking coffee when I was 11.<br />
<br />
Along with my two bestest buddies, we'd get together on a regular basis at one or the other of our houses and brew a pot to share throughout the evening. There was always mounds of sugar and truckloads of creamer(powdered at the time-it was the 'in' thing) or milk injected into our cups, and at least a few times we experimented with melted chocolate, caramels, and once, candy corn. That one didn't go well at all, we almost exploded the microwave trying to melt the niblets down and those suckers basically turn into plastic when <s>radiated</s> heated.<br />
<br />
The point of these meetings however, was not really the coffee, although it helped some, but to register the fact that we were growing into young women. The coffee was just a fancy sophisticated drink that let us feel ourselves as fancy and sophisticated, we often dressed up( although we weren't going anywhere)to show that we had grown-up tastes that didn't revolve around caffeine levels, and when the parents got sick of our shouting and experimental swearing and we got kicked out of our respective houses and had to find another place to hang out, we found a little Greek hole in the wall and took such pride in ordering our coffees 'black' and sitting in the smoking section like we were responsible and mature young adults.<br />
<br />
It makes me laugh still, because that restaurant was forever getting fined from the police for letting minors in the smoking section without adults, and so we constantly had to keep an eye out for cops so we could make a break for it if we had to. It was a bit of a rush to be doing something illegal without actually committing the illegal act, since none of us had started smoking (actually smoking, not just carrying a pack and some matches around, only at school and pretending to inhale so you'd look like The Shit) until a few years after. But we were growing up. We were gossiping, and sharing stories and remember when?'s, although our remembrances were pretty tame at that time, after all, we were only 11/12.<br />
<br />
We all met our respective first 'real' boyfriends in that place, broke up with them, cried and bitched over family issues, big or small, learned how to flirt with the waiters (who were much too old and probably thought us crazy when we finally got ballsy enough to slap their arses on the way by) and generally learned how to interact in a close friendship setting. I treasured those years, before bitches and backstabbers, before the hell years of high school and the horror of having to keep a budget, etc.<br />
<br />
I'm friends with those girls still, although our coffee dates don't happen as often as we'd like. In fact just the other day, one of those girls and I had a coffee date while picking up our respective random crap in Walmart because, god dammit, that was the only time we had to spare. And that's okay, because it was one of the most enjoyable shopping experiences I've had with my kids in tow.<br />
<br />
And it's all to the gratitude of a simple cup of coffee.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-69081975985721410352010-12-22T06:31:00.000-08:002010-12-22T06:31:38.605-08:00Is this the ending of the age of the innocence?The year I stopped believing in Santa I was 8. or maybe 9. Anyway, sometime during that month, my dad had tried to start a fire in the upstairs fireplace, but the flue was clogged, and we almost got smoked out of the house. Both my sister and I nagged our parents about how Santa was going to get in the house when our fireplace was broken, or if he would skip our house all together. It was a very distressing time.<br />
Well, on Christmas morning, we got up, half-worried there would be nothing under the tree from Santa. When we got to the living room, there was a big white snowy mess from the sliding door to the tree, with boot prints going both ways. I'm pretty sure my sister freaked out for a second, thinking burglars had broke in to steal the remaining presents, until she saw the box from Santa. I was curious as how the snow hadn't melted yet, so I tasted it. It was lemony fresh, and probably a little poisonous. So then I went all CSI on that shit, getting all the shoes and boots from the front door, matching the size to the boot prints in the "snow", looking for trace residue, etc. By the time my parents got up they were completely helpless to defend themselves, as I was firmly aware that Santa Clause was a ruse. I wasn't unhappy though, and I didn't spoil it for my sister. I became aware that my parents were buying these 'Santa' gifts, and though it took me the better part of a few months to realize it, I became aware that they would keep buying them until they caught on that I knew their naughty secret. <br />
<br />
Now my Son is only 6, but he's not quite as gullible as I was then, at least I don't think he is, though he might be...<br />
anyways, even this year I'd become paranoid that whenever we discussed santa with him, he got this little glint to his eyes like he knew something more than I, and he even told me once that the Mall Santas were just people who really like to dress up, but they kept microphones in their costumes so Santa could still hear what everyone wanted. Then he laughed. (I fear he's becoming more like Hubby everyday, telling me something to see my reaction before he says it's bullshit... li'l ol' gullibull me) <br />
<br />
So When we went to get Santa pictures with both the kids I was a little curious as to what reaction my eldest would give. Youngest I was well prepared for. Being only 6 months old, he dutifully sat on Santa's lap, until he looked up at the great masses of beard, and then promptly started looking for an escape plan. No tears though. that was nice. Eldest walked silently beside me until we got to Santa's village, and when we got up to the Chair, His eyes lit up, glazed over, and when he sat on Santa's lap, he was almost speechless, which is pretty much fucking impossible in it's own right, and he remained glazed and dazed for the rest of the day. When he went to bed that night, he said to me, 'Santa knows what I want for Christmas mom, so Don't buy it. He'll be mad if he gets a double. '<br />
<br />
I needn't have worried so early.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-20534537826887906902010-12-21T06:43:00.000-08:002010-12-21T06:43:00.671-08:00X-mas things that should be year roundYou know it's X-mas when you hear crashing and can yell out 'Cat's got the balls again!' and the reply is 'What Colour?'<br />
My hubby's obsessed with X-mas trees now. Not in the getting of the tree, nor the decorating, nor even the looking at, but at the smell. That natural resiny smell that permeates the entire house, no matter what else in it to stink it up. He now wants to have a pine tree in the house at all times. I don't blame him, My childhood house had these big pine/spruce trees dotted all along our front yard, and lining the fence of the back, and it was like playing in my own personal forest. I used to climb up on the roof in the summer to suntan, and the treetops would be there, wafting their delicate scent over the baking roof. The people who moved in after us cut down all but three of the trees, and cut our apple tree down too. Bastards.<br />
Anyways..<br />
<br />
We need to have eggnog in the grocery year round. I know, I know, you can make it yourself, but what homemaking mother with a lonely looking bottle of rum wants to go through the trouble of all that cooking when you can just pay the 3.95 to get liquored on a weekday? And besides, it would bring more Festivity to the rest of the year as well, so Bonus.<br />
<br />
Boxing Day should be once a month. That way everyone could go crazy at Walmart for the 30% off on everything that nobody needs.<br />
<br />
Gingerbread should be in style year round too. What else am I going to dip in my Happy Mommy Eggnog?<br />
<br />
Other than that, everything else can go. I have spoken.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-77288718504875887302010-12-20T07:17:00.000-08:002010-12-20T07:17:00.875-08:00An X-mas Ditty.In the spirit of Eldest going around the house singing the Twelve days of Christmas non-stop for the last couple of weeks while not really knowing all the words so filling in the blanks with -bags of poop- (believe me it's a treat to hear that 9 out of twelve days his true love gave him poo) I have come up with my own version. But to keep the repetitiveness out of the game, because it's annoying, I'll start with Twelve and work my way down.<br />
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*Ahem*<br />
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"On the Twelfth Day of X-mas my Hubby Gave to me:<br />
-Twelve tries to guess what he got me<br />
-Eleven dirty dishes hidden<br />
-Ten Hours to find a sitter for a<br />
-Nine o' clock X-mas party<br />
-Eight cups of Coffee<br />
-Seven Farmville requests<br />
-Six last minute presents to send out<br />
FIVE BROKEN TREE BALLSSS!!!!<br />
-Four loads of laundry<br />
-Three unpaid bills<br />
-Two stinky kids<br />
And a BAR FULL OF VODKA FOR MEEEEEEEE!!!!!"<br />
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thank-you.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-52151714236103572652010-12-19T06:47:00.000-08:002010-12-19T06:47:52.798-08:00Teaching the kids sports, or the Retirement Plan.Eldest went skating for the first time yesterday. Well, the first two times. He and hubby went in search of a rink towing along their refurbished skates and sticks. Both were very excited, and this is the first new thing that Eldest has tried that on the beforehand there was no fear in his eyes, just excitement. They found a rink, and as hubby broke in the 'new' skates, eldest tried his luck on his own. Only when he fell down for the first time, and tears welled up in his eyes, did hubby tell him that skating is mostly about falling down, or not falling down. And as he looked around the rink at the older kids playing hockey or racing games, he saw that they too were in the process of either falling down, or getting someone else to fall down. By the end of their first run, he was so enthralled, that instead of us going again today, he insisted he take me out after supper yesterday to show me how good he was. So after supper me and my Eldest went to the skating rink, empty this time, and bitter cold and blustery, to have him show me how to skate.<br />
Now I admit, skating has never been my thing, I've always been more into Skiing, so I don't have skates, but I went out on the ice with him anyways, in case he needed hands for balance. So imagine how surprised I was when he out skated me. His second time Ever, and he was already faster than me. Sure, he was running more than skating, but there was some gliding in there, and he had excellent balance. I always thought that if there was anything Eldest excelled at that would pay for my early retirement, it would be in music or drama or writing books or something. But maybe we have a mini Sidney in the making. maybe...Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-84302520626311945362010-12-18T05:25:00.000-08:002010-12-18T05:25:00.269-08:00I thought parvo was for Dogs...I am perturbed. I have recently come more into the knowledge about children's sicknesses.There are 6 common diseases for a child to catch, that a child will most likely catch before age 10. Apparently they're called diseases now, and not just colds or infections. These 6 diseases are all viral, and most have a fatality rate lower than the common cold. The others we get shots against. All these diseases have a fever, followed by feeling crappy for a while, followed by a breaking of the fever and then 2-3 weeks of a rash that's non-contagious. You basically tell eaach on paart by what the rash looks like. When I was younger and my Eldest was little, he probably got all of these, but I was much better at dealing with them, since I didn't have the internet and my neurotic Husband to make me all paranoid about the little things.<br />
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This year, My youngest Has gotten Sixth's disease, where the fever is high, the baby is a cranky bitch, and then the fever suddenly disappears, and it looks like baby has been rolling in the red ant hill, at least from head to belly. My oldest is probably going to be infected with Fifths disease, since a letter got sent home from school saying there was an outbreak of it, and eldest always brings home treats for the family. Fifth's disease has a low-grade fever with a general malaise, or feeling icky, followed by a cheek-slap rash, which then moves down to the body. Great. so my child gets quiet and icky feeling, then gets a rash that looks like we beat him? Not to mention fifth's disease is a form of parvo. wait. parvo? Bloody Parvo!!!!!! Parvo isn't even in the spell-check dictionary for fucks sakes.<br />
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I can't wait for them to get the other diseases, and be the FIRST FAMILY TO COLLECT ALL 6!!!!!<br />
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yaayy....<br />
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By the way, here's where I'm getting all my awesome fact knowledge from. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc;"><a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/alphaidx.asp?p=a_38">Medicine net</a>. </span>I chose it coz it sounded like where my grandparents live, and I always put all factors into account yo.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-58370068952949459822010-12-17T08:11:00.000-08:002010-12-17T08:11:00.494-08:00Tips for the half- awake mom:1. When making Mac and cheese, Check the label on your soy milk to make sure it's not vanilla flavoured. There is not enough hot sauce in the world to tone that shit down.<br />
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2. Turn on the light when making Coffee. Yes, I know you know where everything is, and you're a master at the squinty pour, but when your hubby decides to be helpful by pre-making the pot the night before, it won't go well.<br />
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3. Take the Damn Dog to a groomer. He is a 90 pound lab. He is sooo Not as easy to trim nails on as the cat is.<br />
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4. Turn on the light when putting on your clothes. come on. Even just a lamp. *sigh* you better be relieved you don't own any thongs. (due to the big butt collapse of 2009, in case any of you<i> actually </i>needed to know that )<br />
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5. Dammit, just because you go to the gym now does NOT mean you can reward yourself with cheeseburgers! No! Bad Mommy, that's NO! *face squirt from water bottle* that's a Baad Mommy.<br />
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6. Remember the laundry detergent when you do laundry.<br />
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7. Remember you did laundry.<br />
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8. Please, please, remember to let the dog out at night. He thinks he's a cat if you don't and it just scares Eldest when he has to clean the cat litter tray and he thinks daddy's been sleep-pooping again. (High-fives for the sleep-pooping thing though, wonder if hubby will ever catch on...)<br />
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9. Remember to let hubby help around the house, even if you have to reorganize what he did after he leaves the room. He offered to help, it's his funeral.<br />
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10. If you stopped drinking what's left in the coffee pot at night, maybe you'd get some actual sleep, and then maybe you wouldn't have to write these stupid tip sheets for yourself, dumb-ass.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-17677596112290615302010-12-16T06:48:00.000-08:002010-12-16T06:48:00.902-08:00I put it EVERYWHERE! wait. what?Kay, what is up with Children's Cartoon Writers? seriously. They either have the Disney Complex(see: dirty old men trying to put dirty notes or peni into the background of Disney movies for shits and giggles) or have way to much time on their hands, or even worse, they aren't even aware of what they're doing...<br />
<br />
Turned on the T.V. today to come upon Dora the Explorer's Boots singing about blue balls. really.<br />
I tried to find a vid for it, but all I got were parodies, or parents trying to video it as it plays on t.v.(which doesn't work. really) or people with even more ickies and time on their hands. So here is the closest thing to sane I found to purvey what I came across.<br />
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<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YKkRpQpzsiA?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YKkRpQpzsiA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
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yeah...Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-22870492733895118682010-12-15T09:01:00.000-08:002010-12-15T09:01:00.216-08:00We all need men like this, but maybe with less eye make-up...In keeping with yesterday's theme of X-mas music, here is the only X-mas song I've found that is recent and actually meaningful. Damn you <a href="http://www.timminchin.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc;">Tim Minchin</span></a>, for making me all weepy.<br />
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<object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fCNvZqpa-7Q?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fCNvZqpa-7Q?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="340"></embed></object>Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-27786786646014497792010-12-14T05:12:00.000-08:002010-12-14T05:12:01.154-08:00Wham! Bam Thank-you maamSo, the Bulgarians have named Wham!'s song Last Christmas the most annoying holiday song ever. I agree.<br />
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*FLASHBACK!*<br />
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When I was young we always went to my grandparents for Christmaas, and sincew I was studying the piaano at the time, they had an electric piano they would haul out of the garage every year for me to bugger around on. Now I'm not sure if the new electric pianos have a demo song, I assume they do, since you can't step into the piano section of any music store without some annoying kid pressing all the demo buttons like a drunk at Walmart in the tickle-me-Elmo section. This particular keyboard had Wham!'s song as it's demo, since at the time it had probably just come out and was really popular. I didn't know what it was at the time, since my first big musical memories start around the time Aqua's Barbie Girl came out, so I didn't know how annoying it was to become. I used to push that damned demo button all the time and pretend I was playing the song every Christmas, and my Gathered Family would all smile ingratiatingly and cheer at my "Skillz". I didn't even know what the song was called until a couple of years ago. But ever since I pulled my Big Girl pants on and moved out, I've hated that song with a passion.<br />
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At least I know the Bulgarians have my back if I decide to go all Bat-shite cRazy on George Micheal or that Ridgeley guy.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-76530854662223111112010-12-13T06:23:00.000-08:002010-12-13T06:23:56.065-08:00With lack of anything better to do in my dreams, it seems I'm reverting to my high school self.I had a dream last night that I was still in high school. or maybe college. Anyways, I was in the music class and we had to sing an x-mas song for the teacher, and the teacher volunteered me to sing the main bit. So Apparently I have been watching too much Sister Act 2 cuz all the sudden we were all singing Joyful Joyful,<br />
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<object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-wNmlrdCBkE?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-wNmlrdCBkE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="340"></embed></object><br />
*Totally not even an x-mas movie, but Lauren Hill was awesome before she went bat-shite*<br />
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and I sang out the first verse. And it was horrible. In real life I sing, and in dream life I've always been better because I can access ll the little terms and ditties that I can never recall in real life. So you can imagine how bad it was for me to listen to myself in my dream. I could hear every missed cue, every inflection or warble gone horribly wrong, and how deep my voice sounded comparatively. But the other kids in the school didn't notice. They thought it was amazing, so they voted me to sing to some director of the board of Education or something. Maybe the program was going under or something? I don't know. So We started practicing, and it's just like every over-achieving-stressed kids nightmares, when all the students around you are saying 'I'm counting on you', and 'You better not let us down' and shit like that. And then I started mixing up the lyrics. Let me tell you it was Fucking terrifying. And then the big boss guy came in and all the sudden the room was bigger, and there was a stand in the front of the room and I got pulled to one side by the teacher basically telling me to 'Not screw up'. Then I went up and did the same horrible job I did the first time, only it was worse because the room was deadly silent, and every one realized this time round just how bad I was, and then I got pulled out of the room mid song by the big boss and the teacher, and they expelled me right there, and then the kids in the class decided to have a good ol' fashioned torch mob and come after me, and then I woke up.<br />
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Moral lesson? Don't eat the white Ferrerro Rochers before bed. They're coconut and white chocolate, and I swear the center has LSD in it, and that's why no one eats them anymore. fuck me.<br />
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p.s. I love the rap in this song, it makes absolutely no sense other than it's catering to the 'cool' people. Stay in School y'all.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-63130681611310306292010-12-12T05:56:00.000-08:002010-12-12T05:56:00.298-08:00False alarmSo apparently when I said we had a virus, it was actually a firewall that had been built by our 22 year old computer genius buddy to keep out viruses. This kid's a little bit weird, but he built our computer from scratch, put all sorts of junk in it to make it run Really fast, with all the newest programs on it. Verry nice.<br />
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<br />
p.s. the A on my new keyboard sticks so much that when I was writing alarm I had to do it 6 times cuz it kept looking like lrm. aalrm. alrm...... yeh....a........Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-40600642123117560882010-12-11T05:51:00.000-08:002010-12-11T05:51:09.019-08:00New Nephew!My hubby's sister had their baby on Thursday Night, a nice little baby boy, Easton. My hubby thinks it's funny that they're naming their kid after sports equipment, but I don't think it ever crossed their minds. She had to have a c-section because the baby's heart was slowing down, so she's going to be in there for a few days. Her mom said she booked a special private room in the hospital, but since she had the C, she can't have it because it doesn't have an adjustable bed. I'm not so sure what a special private room would include, mebbe a view that's not of the parking lot or cafeteria.....<div>Anyways, going to see them all today, although apparently you can't bring kids on the ward unless they belong to the one in the ward, which, whatever...</div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #d0e0e3; font-size: x-large;">BABIESSSS!!!!!!!!</span></div>Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-705287146377765502010-12-10T05:25:00.000-08:002010-12-11T05:29:30.446-08:00short, cuz my computers sickMy computer has frozen three times in the process of trying to write this post, and on the last time it froze I shut the computer down, and a grey screen came up for just second, and all I could make out was a pixelated happy face and the words AWW SNAP!!<br />
I think I have virus or something.Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2604913462232263504.post-54727634510340968972010-12-09T06:12:00.000-08:002010-12-09T06:12:04.507-08:00Not perfect.I'm following with the theme of showing you people things that I think are important to today's society. Well, maybe not important, per Se, but we all obviously think about them now and again, and in fact, there's no better way to convey this meaning than in a well-written, extremely well-played comedic Song. Careful though, you might get swept away a little too much by the sheer awesomeness of this to realize all the little jokes written in.<br />
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<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dg3PberzvXo?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dg3PberzvXo?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="344"></embed></object>Imaginary Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14755831659794558117noreply@blogger.com0