My observations

Sears needs an updated logo.  This late-eighties-neon-esque look will not do. 
 

The afternoon weather report on News 92 FM starts off, "This is MEATEATER-OLOGIST, John Dugowinski..."  What is a "meateater-ologist"?  I searched www.Google.com/images for that exact word, and here's what I found:

I'm guessing my "Filter Explicit Results" filter is on.  But my "Filter Creepy-Shit" filter is not.

McDonald's' food is a crime against humanity...except during Monopoly season.  Then, it is just fun because everyone wants to be a winner.  Are you "PEELIN' LUCKY?"  I am.

"Mayor Weiner" is a terrible idea unless a) his Chief of Staff's name is Mr. Oscar, b) they are always together, and c ) everyone addresses them with "Mr. Oscar, Mayor Weiner..."  Also, he looks like the bad guy from Ghost, so I don't like him.  WHO hires a man to kill Patrick Swayze?  I mean, seriously??

Rediculous Weekend

Ted is a rediculous movie.  Yet I watched the whole thing and laughed.  Shame on me.

In other rediculousness, I had to break the news to my seven-year-old that she can never be a real mermaid.  Not even if she looks at the moon while she is swimming in the ocean...(Wtf did she get that idea?) She still does not believe me.  Thank goodness my mom is going to help the situation by making her a life-like mermaid tail to wear in the bathtub.

Oh my gawd.  I'm thinking in Ted's voice.  This is terrible. 

And finally, my kids absolutely do not believe that "Jennifer" has been my first name my whole life. Rediculous.  They told me that if I was their kid, they would have named me "Sunshine of the Flowers of the Whole Universe Barbie Transformer Mermaid." Wow did I luck out or what?  But I would have loved to go by "Sunshine."

Friend Rules by My 7-Year Old

These are "Friend Rules" and advice as told to my 4-year-old by her big "stister" because she was having drama with her friend at pre-school.  

Background: This little friend yelled, "HUSH, GIRL!  HUSH!" in B's face and then wouldn't play with her for the rest of the day.  After many tears and much heartbreak, her sister came up with this list of rules:

First Rule Number One: Be nice to each other.

Second Rule: Do not hurt one uh-other.

Round Three: Be good and be nice and not hurt each other.

Round Seve-...Round One...Round Four: Be careful to each udders and others.

Round Five: Do not hurt anybody.

Round Six: Do NOOOOT eben put...Do not hurt anybody or others. Be kind to others.

Round Seven: Do NOT DO NOT hurt anybody.

Round Seven...Round Eight: You have to be kind.

Round Nine: Say "Look over there!  There's a butterfly!" and run away.

Round Seven...Round Ten: Run away if they are not nice.

Yes: these are quoted. No: she's not drunk. No: she didn't learn these from me. Well, maybe the distract-her-with-a-butterfly idea... Yes: it appears her favorite number is seven. Because she IS seven.

Such a nice list of suggestions...Much nicer than mine.  I taught B how to say, "Callate!" (cai-yet-te) since this friend speaks Spanish.  That way, she won't get in trouble for actually saying "Shut up!" which is a "bad word"...but only in English. 

My parenting advice book is due to be published next year. LOOK!  A giant butterfly!!

 

Would someone please come get my "Mom Card"?

It's not that I don't love being a mother.  I REALLY love my kids.  It's that sometimes I don't think I'm cut out for this.  Surely other mothers have felt this way.  -ish.  I'm hoping. 

Anyway, take today for example.  We get home, let the dogs outside, and my 7-year-old discovers some lizards doing the boomshakalaka on her little rocking chair.  How do I handle it?  Much like you'd expect Lilith from "Cheers" to handle it (Frasier's wife, remember her?) 

Kid:  Look, mom!  Lizards on my chair!  Uh...what are they doing?

Me:  They're copulating.  Leave them alone.

Kid:  Cop-a-lating? 

Me:  Yes.  They're making baby lizards.  Leave them be.

Kid:  Sister!  Come here and see these lizards!

Kid2:  Wow!  That green lizards is biting the brown lizard.  Let's stop him.

Me:  No!  Let's let them copulate in peace and quiet. 

Just when I thought I had made it out alive...

Kid2:  What's that mean?

Me:  Making baby lizards.  Inside.  Now.

Kid2:  Did you know lizards poop babies?  They poop them out of their butts. 

Me: Nap time.  Let's go.


I sure hope my kids grow up to be normal adults.  If they don't, I only have myself to blame.

My underappreciated feminist side

Today, I had a great idea while on the phone with my husband.  We were discussing salary differences between men and women.

Me:  Ugh!  I either need to get my MBA or grow a penis.  I think I will move away and become a half-naked vegan feminist and fight for women's right.  

J:  Would you really abandon your kids?

Me:  No.  You're right.  I'll take them with me.  They'll be little half-naked vegan feminists, too.  Might as well start them young.  

J:  Mmhmm.

Me:  I know!  I know, you can come, too!  You can be a half-naked vegan MAN who fights for women's rights.  You'll be on the cunting edge.  You'll be like the white guy at the March on Washington, but that's good because you'll stand out.   

Silence

J:  Did you mean to use that word?

Me:  Of course I did....Okay, well, I'll go get the kids.

I guess I will have to fight for women's rights fully clothed here from home.  

Fat (female) hipsters: Do they exist?

I want to be a hipster.  Bad.  I mean, REALLY bad.  But before I make the conversion to hipster, I need more information.  What is a hipster?  Thanks to www.UrbanDictionary.com, I have (could pick from several) my (two favorite) definitions (created by people like you and me):

"The term "hipster" is cross-applied from the 1930s Beatniks. The modern hipster is a composite of individuals with a certain bohemian life situation and lifestyle..."

Stop.  You had me at "bohemian". 

"Definitions are too mainstream. Hipster's can't be defined because then they'd fit in a category, and thus be too mainstream."
 
Another definition had something about Pabst Blue Ribbon, so I'm drinking that now, too. 

So, I started thinking about what I would wear/how I would change my wardrobe, and it occurred to me:  I've never seen a fat hipster.  Googling "Fat Hipster" yielded some entertaining and some disturbing results.  One page compares them to unicorns while another refers to them as hippo-sters. 

And, although I'd like to be this unicorn he speaks of, I would probably be more of the hippo-ster and wind up on www.peopleofwalmart.com.  You know?

I could, however, take the advice of one commenter and "either join a gym, get on drugs, or drop the cupcakes cuz it's not working with your poor downtown eighties look..." 

Um.  Joining a gym is expensive, and dropping a cupcake is just another mess for me to clean.  Looks like I'm stuck with cocaine.  Does anyone even "do" cocaine anymore?  (I'm pretty old.  In fact, I won't fit the age demo for hipster much longer)

Recap:

Bohemian - Check
Shops at Goodwill - Check
Rejects mainstream - Check
Pabst Blue Ribbon - Check
Cocaine - Checking
Ironic t-shirt - Googling (Or I was until my SIL told me that Googling is completely mainstream, so I grabbed an encyclopedia instead)

And found this: 

HOW IRONIC IS THAT?!?!  A fat hipster chic (me) wearing a shirt about fat people.  OMG.  Let THAT swim around in your head!

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT when I went to order it (by mail, with a check, of course), I was like, WHAAAAAAAT?  

 

 

Ugh.  Gender Biases are so mainstream.  Get with it, people!

 

Conclusion:

 

Fat female hipsters do NOT exist because they aren't allowed to.  Because ironic t-shirts only come in S, M, and L.  Fat male hipsters, are totally allowed. 

Death by dryer sheets and Humpty Dance

I had four, count them FOUR, topics to blog about before I made it to my parking garage at work.  Here are the first two, combined for your enjoyment.

A friend of mine is trying to kill me with dryer sheets.  If I didn't have a "don't use people's names on my blog" policy, I'd tell you who so when I die you can tell the police, but alas...

It's true.  When I told her this morning that dryer sheets are toxic and they are Killing us Slowly (...Strumming my pants with its fragrance...Stealing my life with its scent...killing me slowly with its Linalool killing me sloooowlyyy...) she insisted I provide sources for my claim:
 
http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504763_162-20097302-10391704.html

http://www.holistichealthsecrets.com/alternativehealth/main-content/the-toxic-dangers-of-dryer-sheets-and-fabric-softeners/

http://ecowatch.com/2013/why-you-need-to-ditch-dryer-sheets/

http://healthylivinghowto.com/1/post/2013/04/healthy-body-7-toxic-reasons-to-ditch-dryer-sheets.html

http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/new-study-scented-dryer-sheets-159942

Claim: Sourced.  Now to my friend's arguement.  It was basically this: They can't be toxic.  The Government wouldn't allow companies to use the ingredients if they were bad for us.

Seriously?

Um...

Mmmhmmm.

Whaaa?



*disappointed stare*

Really?

Grrr.

Moving on...The Humpty Dance came on 90's on 9 this morning, and I couldn't bring myself to change the station.  I just couldn't.  What's WRONG with me?

Seriously.