Cool Ideas I Get When I'm Sober

I admit it.
Sometimes, after a long day of driving the kids all over three counties, I like to kick back and get sober.
Some of my hard-core readers may disapprove of my brief (yet frequent) bouts of sobriety, but if they feel that way, they've never mentioned it to me.
... Or maybe they did and I just didn't remember it the next day when my sobriety wore off.
Anyway, I get some pretty wacked ideas when I'm sober and I'd like to share three of them with you now.

#1: Butt Shorts for Superior Women
We've all seen these butt shorts, booty shorts (when I was younger we called them "hot pants") with words on the ass.


I thought that we needed Butt Shorts for women who know they are better than you.
I give you:


That's Stephanie's "haught" ass, in case you were wondering.

#2 Gran-Stamps- Granny Panties With Tramp Stamps Printed on Them
Those low-rise jeans are all the rage, but the thong underwear you're supposed to wear with them can be downright uncomfortable for most gals. And the larger you are, the less appealing wearing butt floss can be.
So we wear our comfortable underwear, and someone comes by and snaps a "Your Team!" pic and puts it on the internet.

"Hey!! Did you just take a picture of my butt?"

What's a girl to do?
Don't bag the briefs!
Introducing granny panties with some pizazz!

See how good Scarlett Johanssen's ass looks in these?
They are just as comfy as your old granny panties, because they are your old granny panties, but with a sexy new twist!

#3 Child Training System, w/ Remote
This next idea actually came from my friend Maggie, but I was the one who designed the actual product. This child training system is known as "Electric Underpants", not to be confused with the Austrian Punk band.
Take your child's- or husband's!- favorite underwear (I like these cool zombie ones from Etsy) and sew a pocket inside, remembering to create two holes for the Behavior Modification Stimulator Points to make continuous contact with the skin.

All that's left is to wait around for your child to annoy you, and based on the severity of the annoying behavior, you press the corresponding button. It works like a tv remote; you can flip through the intensity levels until you find one you like.
Here is what the information pamphlet states:

Today's units are perfectly safe - you can even test the shock level on yourself. They emit much more of a static tingle than an AC outlet jolt. Professional dog trainers child behavior therapists have used these collars Electric Underpants for years, because they're the quickest and most reliable way to keep your dog child safe and in control.

Even better than the safety and humanity of shock collars Electric Underpants is their effectiveness.

Within a couple weeks of training, your previously lawless pooch brat will be brought to attendant heel - literally - through the wonders of the shock collar Electric Underpants.

Whether he's busy chasing squirrels, stealing your lunch, or gnawing on your loafers, the shock collar Electric Underpants will immediately let him know he's done something wrong. The units work by training the dog kid to associate bad behaviors with a negative reinforcement. They allow you to correct unwanted behaviors from a distance, and require no physical intervention on your part.

Shocking collars Electric Underpants deliver an unequivocal "no" that your dog kid won't confuse, like he can a 'look', or your tone of voice.

The weather urine-resistant transmitter activates when you send the correction signal. Your dog kid instantly associates his inappropriate behavior with the correction, and before long he'll very rarely need corrections from the shock collar Electric Underpants. Since he connects the shock with his action, and not the shock collar Electric Underpants, he'll soon avoid the behavior automatically, whether he's wearing the shock collar Electric Underpants, or not. Plus, the shock collar Electric Underpants remove the possibility of your intimidating or alienating your dog kid by having to constantly vocally berate him.

They are available in different weights, intensities, and functionalities to suit every need. Large or stubborn dogs kids may require a stronger model of shock collar Electric Underpants, or one that emits a longer shock than most.
Even if you have two or three dogs kids, you can train them simultaneously with a single shock collar Electric Underpants system that uses one remote but receivers on different frequencies. Our shock collar Electric Underpants system comes with easily replaceable batteries and a compact receiver that won't weigh your dog kid down. Always follow the instructions that come with your shock collar Electric Underpants to ensure safe, quick training.

Training your dog kid with a system as effective as a shock collar Electric Underpants ensures that he'll be safe from tragedies such as traffic accidents and becoming lost. When your dog kid knows the rules, you don't have to worry.

Do It

Write the book.
Build the treehouse.
Plant the garden.
Train for the race.
Hike the trail.
Apply for the job.
Join the club.
Quit the church.
Enroll in the class.
Write the letter.
Sing the song.
Schedule the tests.
Ride the roller coaster.
Get the passport.
Board the plane.
See the world.
Buy the boots.
Make the call.
Enjoy the sun.
Take the plunge.
Hold the baby.
Adopt the pet.
Snap the picture.
Eat the donut.
Shoot the gun.
Host the party.
Make the speech.
Jump out of the plane.
Score the concert tickets.
Try the recipe.
Tell the joke.
Make the friend.


Stop playing "Find The Obstacle" and just do it.

Breaking Forks With Your Ass?

Where's that get fun?

Hat tip to Scott Sorensen for sending me to this.

We were musing about this today.
What if I took it up as a new hobby?
How many forks would I have to jab into my gluteus maximus before getting it right?
What if I actually began breaking dinner forks with my ass?

And then Arden imagined inviting friends over, and how she'd have to serve them salad and pasta with no forks, and sheepishly explain to them,

"Sorry about the spoons, but my mom broke all our forks with her ass."

Around The House

Ron and I went for a walk around the property. Here are some pics from the gorgeous day.

This is the view from the side of the house, down toward the pond. It's brown and ugly, now, but there are signs of life and of Spring.
First Redbuds of the season.
This is a creepy tree that swallowed another tree and killed it. In the summer, the creepy tree is full of green leaves, but the one it swallowed remains bare. If you listen closely at night, you can hear it screaming. Please also note the furry poison ivy vine crawling up the side. Fireside seating: Vintage lawn chair, and the cast-off Ikea chair with a split in it. Ron says the split is in the perfect place to pinch one's balls when one sits in the chair. I guess that chair is mine, then.


Ron's most current burn pile


Weeping Peach blossoms.



Our cat sitting among the hostas.



This is a shelf mushroom thing. My mom used to paint really cool scenes on these when I was a kid.



Violets




Ron is not bending this tree. This is a tree that got bent and now grows that way.



Down by the pond. Here is the sky reflected in the pond. The light is too strong to see the huge tadpoles in the water.


Here we are. Ron is smiling because it's the beginning of mowing season.

TIREd... (Working Title: Rescued By Indiana Jones)

So I woke up with a bunch of stuff to do this morning, before heading out to LOL. I managed to get most of it done, and get on the road without being (too) late.
I had also planned for the Windshield Guy to meet us in Fairmont to replace my windshield while we were at LOL.
They are doing construction near us, and the Stop/Slow guy lets a cement truck go right in front of me. It's 50mph on that road, but the cement truck didn't go over 20mph the whole way to Easton Hill.
At the light, I was able to blow past him, and quickly get on the interstate.
The sun was shining, we were on time, and I was prepared.
Enter the hand of god.
Right before the Goshen Road exit, the driver's side tire began jack-hammering. I slowed it down to 60, then 30, but it still jack-hammered, so I pulled off and called Ron.

A little back story: On Monday, Ron had stopped to put air in one of the tires, but then decided not to.
I didn't know if that situation had anything to do with this.

I asked him in a half-panicked tone, "Could your not putting air in the tire have anything to do with the tire being flat now?"
The call was suddenly dropped.
I called him back and asked jokingly, "Did you hang up on me?"
"Yeah, I did." he replied.
I was so stunned- stunned- that he would hang up on his wife, who was stranded on the interstate with four children, that I hung up right away.
(Can you almost hear me thinking, "I'm telling Maggie you hung up on me!" ?)
And so, mascara running like Tammy Faye's, I called Maggie.
She was amazing. She made me laugh, and told me she could come get the kids, if I needed her to. But I decided the last thing they needed at LOL today was four more kids with nothing to do.
So I cleaned up my face, called AAA, and they sent a truck out to put air in my tire.
One of the guys in the truck was Bill.


Here is Bill (right), age 15, goofing off with friends.


Bill dressed as Indiana Jones.

These pics were taken in 1984, while we were getting ready to go out for a night of mischief trick-or-treating.
He is now married with four daughters, aged 22 years down to 3 years.
When Indie Bill attempted to inflate the tire, the valve-thingie didn't fit the stem on my tire. It's apparently a specialty thing. So he went back to the garage to get another valve-thingie.
While he was gone, the Windshield Guy called to confirm our plans. I told him about my trouble, and he decided to stay in Morgantown and see if he could replace it here.
Bill arrived with the new valve-thingie and the tire just would not pump up. After driving forward about a foot, we saw why.



So, we had to tow it. (AWD Toyota Siennas come with run-flats, which means they do not look flat when they really are. Also, there is no spare.)




Bill tried to hook up the van, but there was something wrong, and it couldn't be towed the normal way.



Here the kids are, sitting on the guard rail, watching the Tow Fail.

I called Ron back and he agreed to come out and help haul kids, since the tow truck can only hold two extra people.

Another tow truck came, and they loaded up the van, and towed it to the place where I got four new tires.




The Windshield Guy (remember him?) met us at the tire place, and then followed us out to the house, where he and his son replaced my cracked windshield.




While it was a stressful day spent mostly on the side of the road, some amazing things happened:
I got to lean against the van in the warm sun and read my book.
I got to catch up with an old friend.
Someone actually complimented my I'm In A Van song, from a few posts back.
The kids dug out their solar cookers (remember those?) and roasted marshmallow Peeps in them. (That, along with all the roadside excitement, made for one hell of a homeschooling day.)

When People Say Kids Are Expensive...

I don't think this is what they mean. However...

Yesterday Harrison went out to the van during playgroup, opened the back hatch, and swung on the strut, bending the rod. Once it bent slightly, the heavy door was no longer supported, and it came down, bending the rod even more. Eventually, the rod was V-shaped, and the back hatch couldn't close.
One of the other playgroup kids tried to straighten it, but it was a lost cause.
While he was trying to straighten it, someone else had to hold up the door. He got it mostly straightened (see photo), but I knew it was going to need replaced.
I had the kid snap it off, just so the door would close, and we were able to finish the rest of our errands, even if it meant near-decapitation every time someone opened the back.

Hydraulic Hatch Support Strut

Ron made some calls today and found out that it is a dealer part, and would be $190, or he can get it online for $120.

While we were in a store today, Harrison had the kaboobies to ask for a toy, and pout when I told him no!

My Busy Weekend

Next Time He Cheats
Since my sister was in town, we had the traditional trip to Gabe's.
When we pulled into the Gabe's parking lot, we saw a truck owned by some guy who obviously cheated on Carrie Underwood.


Check it- Four slashed tires!


Paige's Phoenix Plant














You may recall an earlier post about Paige's plant that died. She had begun putting kitchen scraps into the pot, hoping it would come back again.
Well, wouldn't you know, as soon as Paige planted another plant in that pot, her Asiatic Lily decided to rise up from the compost and make itself known again!
(It's the one on the left)


Easter
My mom put together Easter baskets (buckets) for the kids this year.
The kids quickly went through the contents and then wore their buckets on their heads.



Tattoo Bags
My sister noticed a trend lately where women are carrying totes and purses with pictures of tattoos on them. She had the great idea to take photos of her own tattoos and then transfer those onto a canvas bag.
So my job yesterday was to photograph all ten of her tattoos, and then print them onto special iron-on paper.



My mother's printer only prints in blue right now, so I wasn't able to print them out. When I get the tote bag finished, I'll post a picture of it.

I'm In a Van

This goes out to Stephanie, and all the kids who have ever sat in the Death Seat.


Original I'm On A Boat .

[Intro (T-Pain)]
(So late...) Aww shit
Get the Staubly Bag ready, we gotta go downtown (so late, yeah)
All our stuff's outside on the front deck (so late, yeah)
And get on your motherhelpin' shoes
We runnin late, let's go

[Chorus (T-Pain)]
I'm in a van (I'm in a van)
I'm in a van (I'm in a van)
Everybody look at me, 'cause I'm driving in a van (driving in a van)
I'm in a van (I'm in a van)
I'm in a van
Just look at all the crap in this motherhelpin' van (van, yeah)

[The Lonely Island (T-Pain)]
I'm in a van, motherhelper, take a look at me
Straight driving in a van down to SBLC.
Bustin 85, it's as fast as she can stand
You can't stop me motherhelper cause I'm in a van

Take the picture, Paige (paige) I'm in a van, see (see)
I drink coffee in a travel mug, 'cause I don't sleep (sleep)
I got my orange food, and my bottled water
The crazy kid I gotta pick up will be Blog fodder.

They're fightin' in the back seat, doin flips and shit
Tessa's spittin', gettin e'rybody all wet
But this ain't a sitcom, this is real as it gets
I'll ground your ass, motherhelper, don't you ever forget

I'm in a van and, it's goin fast and
I'm late for Choosy again and there's a traffic jam.
I'm the king of the road, in a van like A-Team
If you need a ride, ya gotta start in the Death Seat.
{Shut the fuck up, I'm on the PHONE!!!}

Fuck the laundry, I'm in the van, motherhelper (motherhelper)
Fuck dinner, I get taco bell, motherhelper (motherhelper)
I'm at the park with my kids, motherhelper (yeah)
This trailer hitch makes noise, motherhelper

Hey Ron, if you could see me now (see me now)
Down I-79 like a bat out of hell, (bat out of hell)
Got ten minutes to get to LOL (get to LOL)
Like Mrs Todd's Shortcut, anything is possible

[T-Pain]
Yeah, never thought I'd be on the road
After the Rocky Horror Picture Show (yeah)
At 3am... Beside me is a teen (put clothes on, Jeff!)
Never thought I'd see the day
When the big kid comin' my way
Believe me when I say, he was a drag queen

[Chorus]

[T-Pain]
Whoahhh
We're so late, we're so late
Yeah yeah yeahhh

Women Love To Get Flours

I was up early this morning with a tight schedule.
While baking cornbread for the Learning Out Loud co-op potluck lunch, I put Beth's gluten-free bread, cookie and pizza mixes into the van, and collated my print-outs for the Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History class I was teaching at 10:30am.
On the way to Fairmont, I also had to pick up Scott, an oft-moody homeschooling teen, as well as drop Sadie off at one of the dorms so she could hang out with her friend. Counting backwards, and taking into consideration traffic, construction, and the nature of my family, the drop-dead time to leave the house was 9:30am.
The cornbread was done at 9:27am. I packed it and the kids up, and we were out the door by 9:36am.
Picking Scott up was easy, as I followed the path of green lights to his door. I started to get overconfident, though, and when I drove Sadie to the dorm, it seemed like everyone and their college-aged brother was also meeting a friend at the dorm, and we sat through three lights just trying to turn left. By the time we dropped Sadie off, we had 18 minutes to get to Fairmont. I turned to Scott, sitting in the Death Seat, and asked,

"How fast does your mom drive on the interstate?"

With great tunes cranked up on the radio, we raced to the Learning Center, and arrived at 10:36am. Exactly one hour from our departure time.
Some even said I was early.

At the end of the day, I called Beth to tell her that I had a surprise waiting for her at the Learning Center, and she could pick it up whenever. I gave a few other kids a ride to the park and collected the rest of mine. I was also giving Scott a ride home. Sadie called and asked if I could give her and her friend a ride home from the mall.
I dropped Scott off at his house, and drove the long way around to get to the mall, rather than fight town traffic again.
After picking the teens up, I had no choice but to fight town traffic to drop the friend off at the dorm. That was okay, because I had to stop by Stephanie's, anyway.

(Stephanie is my walking buddy, and one day we were discussing those shorts some girls wear that have the word "HOTTIE" on the ass. I told her that I wanted to make a pair similar that read "HAUGHTY" instead.
She thought that was a fantastic idea.
So, while my walking buddy is post-op [and I'm left walking with no one but my Shadow Goddess], I thought I'd cheer her up by making her the "HAUGHTY" shorts, for when she can come back to the track.)

She doesn't live far from the dorm, so we stopped there right after dropping off Sadie's friend. Stephanie loved the shorts.
It turned out Stephanie's teen son and his friend were needing a ride.
(sigh... "Hop in!")
And we were off.
After dropping those teens at their destination, I was tired, and wanting to be home. My cell phone rang- what now?!- and it was Beth (cue "Beth", by Kiss, haha!).

She was calling to thank me for the flours.

Old-Timer Gardening Advice

Many, many springs ago, several little old ladies admonished, "Don't even think about touching a garden before Easter Sunday!" as I eyed the sproutlings offered at the local mega-store.
With days and days of temps in the 60's and 70's, it's tempting to get a jump start on that garden.
But the little old ladies were right; the day I almost bought those plants, I also took a photo of Sadie sleeping on our porch swing, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. The next day, I took a photo of the same porch swing with three inches of snow on it.

The last couple weeks have been mild, and I know several of my friends have been buying plants, and setting out their seedlings.
I have warned them all.
I have given them the "Don't even think about touching a garden before Easter Sunday!" speech.
Few have listened, and many doomed petunias were put in the ground.
This morning, I woke up to my sunny back deck beginning to look like a winter wonderland. It has continued to snow all day.
A moment of silence, please, for all the tomato plants that can no longer feel their toes.

A Shadow of My Former Self

When I begin my walk on the track at 4:30pm, my shadow is a fairly accurate representation of my physical self. I walk around and around, watching my overweight (and under tall) shadow follow along on the ground next to me, like a chubby walking buddy.
I turn on my mp3 player and start to find my rhythm.
As AC/DC pounds in my ears, I try to adapt to the strain in my calf muscles, my hips, my ankles.
By my third lap, the pain is gone and I'm almost enjoying myself.
After a few more laps, I notice a change taking place in my shadow. With each lap, my shadow grows a little thinner, my waist gets narrower, my legs begin to look like Elle Macpherson's, and even my hair gets longer!
By the end of my walk, though I am sweating, my hair is plastered to my red face, and I look like I've been in the jungle for a week, I have the shadow of a goddess.












It's the best part of my walk.

Getting By With A Little Help From Her Friends

So my friend S. went into the hospital to get her lady-parts put right, and I had agreed to help her out with her recovery.
Her partner, R., is doing a fantastic job of caring for her, but she also has to work, so I am there to pick up the slack.
Her son, C., is using his time away from his mother wisely by hanging out with his girlfriend A., and having lots of premarital sex. (If you aren't planning to marry, do you still call it premarital?)

One of the things S. wanted was a hand-held shower installed in her bathroom, for rinsing off her new lady-parts. Ron agreed to go over there while S. was still in the hospital to install that for her, because that's the kind of nice guy he is.
He had two bags of tools and supplies, and opened the door to her house- this is where I point out that S. and R. are animal lovers and own like 27 dogs and 19 cats (actually, the numbers are more like 6 and 2, respectively)- and the pets get so excited when someone comes over, so there they are, all pressed up against the door, and the storm door doesn't latch well, and so Ron opens the door and they all rush out into the street. Here- listen to this while you read the rest of the story.
Anyway, the dogs rush out into the street and Ron freaks out, because S. loves her dogs, and he doesn't want to be the one who got them all killed while she was in the hospital. So he's standing in the street, freaking out, and calls me on his cell phone and is shouting at me that all the dogs are loose.
I ask him what he expects me to do about it, and he screams,

"This is all your fault!! I'm doing this for your friend, and now all her dogs are out, and they aren't coming back, and..."

I told him to yell for C., and he replied, "I did, but I don't know where he is!"
Ron did manage to get the big square dog, Shadow, that's about 30 years old, back into the house, but all the rest were too quick, and kept flipping him off.
So he gave up and went inside to install the hand-held shower.
It turned out C. was just across the street. He came home shortly and was able to get the other dogs safely back into the house, the shower got installed with no complications, and everything worked out fine.

Back at the hospital, S. wanted to try to go for a walk in the hall. We got her catheter bag emptied, so she wasn't carrying 8lbs of urine along with her in a "pee purse", and headed out. She was wearing the standard-issue hospital gown, carrying her empty pee purse, when one of the other inmates patients said "Hello!"
To be nice, we said 'Hello' back to him.

"Can you take this? I'm done." he gestured to his dinner tray. Like S. is going to walk over, pee purse in hand, and collect this guy's tray for him?

"I'm a patient, too, Bud. Sorry." S. said.

"Well, can you go get the nurse and tell her I'm done?" he asked.

"Um... sure." we said, as we shuffled past the door.

"Go tell my nurse I'm done!" he said loudly.

His nurse came around the corner shortly and I said, "That gentleman needs help with his tray..."
The nurse made the twirly gesture with her finger by the side of her head and said, "Yup. I'm on it."
The rest of our walk was pretty uneventful.
Once we were back in the room, R. was calling S. on the phone.

"Who's at our house?" R. asked her.

"What? How the hell should I know? I'm in the hospital." S. replied.

"Someone's at our house in a Kia. I don't know who it is." R. went on.

"Well, I'm in the hospital, and you're right there. I don't know! God, what a question!"

It turned out the Kia owner was just a jesus freak, and not some psychopath stalker trying to let all the dogs out.

While R. was ditching the jesus freak and getting the animals more food, she accidentally stepped in/ flipped the huge bowl of water that is left out for them. The entire kitchen floor was flooded, and when R. went to grab the mop, it wasn't there.

"Yes, it is, R. It's behind the door." S. told her.

"No, it wasn't. I didn't see it." R. replied.

"Yes, it is... it's behind the... oh, wait! No! It's upstairs." S. recalled.

So, while R. is looking in vain for the mop, the enthusiastic dogs are tracking in the water, and jumping up on her to greet her, and just generally making a big mess even bigger.
R. grabs the single dishtowel in the kitchen and soaks up some of the water, wrings it out, and repeats this process until all the water is cleaned up. I'm sure if the jesus lady was still in the neighborhood, she got an earful!

So we're hoping that S. gets discharged today and can go home to all her fur-babies and her hand-held shower, where we will love her, and feed her healthy food, and dyson frequently, so the tumbleweeds of pet hair do not overwhelm her while she's recovering.

My mother called me this morning, waking me up, to tell me she stopped by last evening.

"Were you there?" she asked.

"Nope. I was at the hospital helping my friend." I said.

"Until what time?" she asked.

"Oh, late. Why?" I replied.

"Because the kids told me you weren't there, but your van was there." she said.

"Well, I was in the white car. Ron had the van because he had the kids." I answered.

WTF? Why would my kids lie and say I wasn't there, if I really was?
Why would my mother automatically assume they were lying, just because the van was there?
And, perhaps most importantly, where was Ron, to back up the story?