Wordless Wednesday - Another Trip to the Beach

Hit Me With Your Best Shot!

I've been offered a challenge I can't refuse.


John Wright, who does absolutely wonderful things for the children and other needy folks in Kyrgyzstan (Beck's home country), has challenged us to take a pie to the face and raise money so the orphans in KG can celebrate Christmas.

For just $5, an orphan in Kyrgyzstan will be able to experience a wonderful day they will never forget! Just $5! That's less than a cocktail with dinner or one stop at Dunkin Donuts, but it will mean the world to a child who has nothing.

I'm so blessed to have Beck home, safe and sound, but what if things didn't work out like they did. Would he still be sitting in the orphanage, with no family and no hope? I thank God he's not, but there are still many who are. John Wright and his band of merry miracle workers shows these children that people do care and he gives them hope.

For every $5 donated another child gets to feel the love and wonderment of the season. For just $5 an orphan gets to know that someone cares.

So what do you get? Well, besides the warm and fuzzy feeling of knowing you rock, and my eternal love and admiration, I vow to take a pie in the face, complete with pictures, and maybe a video, if I reach my goal of $500. And because I love you all so much, maybe I'll take requests.

Please visit John's website and click the paypal button and sponsor a child for Christmas. Make sure you write my name in the paypal message so they know to whom to aim the pie at.

I thought the guys who frequent my blog may need additional inspiration to head on over and donate, so here ya go...



Mary Louise Parker says, "Sponsor a kid or I'll beat you with this rolling pin."

Showin' Mine

The Fantabulous Bevalicious shamed dared us to bare all on Friday... our desks that is. (relax you pervs!)
Of course Bev has nothing to hide. She has a neat and tidy workspace. Everything in its place. I know this first hand because I occasionally drop in after hours and write inappropriate messages on her phone message pad. What?
My "workspace" on the other hand consists of a cubby. Yes, a wee cabinet of a desk from which I manage 2 businesses and more importantly, do all my blog-stalking. Add to it's obscene wee-ness, the fact the kids use it as a dumping ground for every single painting, drawing, homework, notes from teachers and other pieces of crap they don't feel like finding a proper place for and there's no way to avoid disaster.
Joe often complains about how messy my "desk" is but I'm always quick to remind him that he has a real desk (you know, with writing surface and no doors!) here at the house, PLUS a 400+ sq ft office (WITH ANOTHER DESK - Yes, I have desk envy), PLUS his assistant has her own office with... wait for it.... a real frickin' desk!!! I HAVE LESS THAN 2 SQUARE FEET OF SPACE!!!! GET OFF MY GD BACK!!!!!!!

*breath* *breath*

Whew, sorry about that. Ummmm, I guess I may have some issues there.

Anyhoo, with out further warning delay *gulp* I present to you my *cough* desk.
























OK, STOP SCREAMING! I know, horrible.

Alright, I'll give you a tour. Seriously, don't stand up, we're not going far.
First, my lovely Dell... my old Dell which still possess all my e-mail addresses and website favorites so I'm sorta blackmailed into continuing the relationship.
Let's see, the thing on the keyboard, that's a bill I need to pay. Because it's sitting on the laptop that's essentially my priority file. The pile of crap to the right of it is stuff my kids leave on my "desk" or things I'll get around to...but not right now. We'll call that my "low priority" file.
Let's see, the crap stuck on the doors is the stuff I need to be able to find for a later date, but can't put into the "low priority" file cause that shit just gets lost.
What else.... oh my moisturizer; two kinds, because sometimes my skin just feels dry. And when I want to moisturize, I want it now.

So there you have it. my craptastic workspace. *sigh* it's kinda depressing.

Maybe next time I'll just flash ya.

Some People Are Just Askin' For It

Seemingly, the Blog Gods have taken notice of my bloggy malaise and lack of posting.

...Despite having a fabulous Halloween.

... and good times carving pumpkins.

...and sordid tales about this guy (OK, not really)

I just haven't been moved to mentally wrangle up a tale and work it out in a grammatically correct fashion.

blah.

So today, the Blog Gods got together and heaved a big, steaming pile of blog fodder right on my lap. And boy did it stink! Let me explain...

I'm naturally a chill person. I don't care for drama; I'm a live-and-let-live kinda gal. I pick my battles and I often bite my tongue to avoid conflict. I hate conflict. Seriously, it takes a lot to get my blood boiling, but once some asshat decides to take it there, oh it's on!

A few things you should know about me when I've been pushed out of my peace-lovin' love nest:

• Like a pitbull I will go for the throat... and I do NOT let go. One of us is going down...it's not going to be me.



• I get LOUD! Yes, if you're going to push me to be pissed off, EVERYONE will know it.



• I don't believe in hitting below the belt or responding in a juvenile way... but I will.



• I get the last word. Chances are you started it, it's only fair that I end it. Got it?

So I went to the chiropractor's office today with Beck. When we arrived, the waiting room was pretty full so Beck went straight to the corner that contains a basket of toys and I took a seat on the opposite side of the 10X10 room. Beck got busy playing nicely with the three other kids cramped in the corner. I watched them as the 4 kids stacked blocks and giggled amongst themselves... you know, how kids can naturally just start having fun with other kids. Good stuff.

Soon a man enters the waiting room and glares at everyone, spots the kids and "huffs". He sits with his back to the kids but constantly shoots nasty looks over his shoulder.

Mind you, I'm the first person to get annoyed by unruly children whose parents have better things to do than to mind their own offspring. Moreover, I'm pretty strict about how I expect my children to behave in public. I REFUSE to be one of those parents.

That being said, these four children were playing very well together. They stayed in their little corner, stacking blocks, occasionally *gasp* giggling.

The Cranky Old Bastard (COB) leans over and asks the guy next to him, "Who thought they could bring their kids."

I take a deep breath.

The doctor comes to the door and calls his next patient when COB says to him, "why don't you take the kids. They're out of control."

Oh GAME ON ASSHOLE!

Me: "Actually, those kids are behaving just fine."

COB : NO THEY'RE NOT! THEY"RE BEING ANIMALS!

Me : ANIMALS!? They're just kids, playing nicely.

COB : Well, this is a doctor's office!

Me: Yes, a Doctors office with a basket full of toys for the kids to play with while their waiting.

COB: I don't come here to listen to kids.

Me: I don't come here to deal with cranky, OLD, bitter men!

COB: Well they're being annoying

Me: Really? Because you're being annoying. They're kids. What's your excuse?

COB: (turning again to the other guy) Don't you think these kids are out of control?

Other Guy: Actually, they're playing just fine. They're well behaved. They're just kids.

Meanwhile the other parents are quickly ushering their kids out of the room, probably in fear that I was about to whoop this old fart's arse!

Then this other dude says to COB: "You're a very rude man, How dare you talk to this woman you don't even know. They're just kids! Get over yourself."

... and then he splits.

COB: Well I don't care, these kids are being too loud!

Me: No moron, they're not. they're no louder than the Muzak being piped into this room. (OK I didn't say Moron... but I was thinking it. No I wasn't. I was thinking much worse)

COB: Well that's your opinion.

Me: Yes, and apparently that of the rest of the room as well.

COB : Well I don't want to hear your opinion.

Me: (laughing) Well then you might have considered keeping your mouth closed and not sharing your opinion. But since you chose to run your mouth, then you're getting my opinion. It would be wise for you to shut up now...unless you want me to continue.

COB: (sensing I was batshit crazy and that the veins popping and pulsating on the side of my head and neck may indicate that I'm just getting started, COB averted his eyes in defeat, and mutters) unbelievable.

Me: Excuse me? What's unbelievable? The fact you are a grown man pissing and moaning about some kids playing and minding their own business or because someone won't put up with your garbage?

crickets...

c'mon! Do it! Breath another G-D word asshole! I'm just getting warmed up! I sat there, blood swishing in my ears, jaw clinched, shaking... just waiting for him to say another word, a cross-eyed look.... another "huff". He sat motionless, eyes on his shoes.... for the next 15 minutes.

Once in the doctor's office, the chiropractor apologized profusely. I recommend he give the bastard more than a spinal adjustment.

Some people just need their asses handed to them. Today I was more than happy to gift wrap!

Room To Breathe

Monday, Joe announced only hours before Morgan's dance class that he moved Morgan's dance shoes (TWO WEEKS AGO!!!)"because they needed to be put away", however he doesn't recall where exactly he put them... obviously not "away", but rather far, far away. We searched the house high and low and there's no sign of her dance shoes.

Oh, and did I mention her teacher is Hitler of the Dance? Yeah, there's no way we're showing up to dance without the proper dance shoes. I believe you get shot on sight for that.

So since Joe and his squirrelly ways got "us" into this situation, I suggested he get "us" out of it.

He spent the next 5 Minutes thinking through the situation and the best way to remedy his obvious blunder. He finally concocted the best plan to fix everything... he asked me to take care of it. Not the course of action I was hoping for, but time was ticking and let's face it, if I left it up to him he'd send her to ballet in SpongeBob slippers.
So I spent the afternoon calling around, trying to find the exact shoes required for class. A fifty mile road trip and $80 later I produced the required shoes, no help from the hubster of course.

Fast forward less than 24 hours later. I wake up to the sound of the school bus pausing momentarily at the end of our drive and then continuing on. I look at the clock; 7:18am! It seems as though the prospect of the alarm clock annoyingly waking up my husband bothered him so much that he turned it off before the little bugger had the chance to interrupt sleep.
I rush to get both kids up, fed, lunches packed and each off to their schools. Since Morgan missed most of last week due to our little visit from the Swinethrax Fairy, I felt it was imperative to get her to school on time. I ask Joe if he'd bring Morgan and I'd get Beck. His reply as he calmly enjoyed his breakfast, "I don't know where her school is." and simply continued watching Fox and Friends.

WHAT!?! It's three freakin' miles from our house!!!! Are you kidding me?!!!

Again, like the shoes, I knew if I forced the issue he'd prove he was correct in his incompetence. So to save our daughter from repeating Second grade, I tossed both kids in the car and managed to get them both to their schools on time.

Seriously, I just wonder what little gem of shit will get thrown my way tomorrow. I'm the super hero of others' craptastic blunders!

Here's a video that I'll be playing for Joe while ordering a load of concrete is creepy... hey. it's Halloween.

Plus I love me some Art Alexakis!

Mind Blogging

Boy, have you missed some hilarious blog posts lately… Freakin' funny, I tell ya! Real knee-slappers... unfortunately they’re all in my head. Yup, I’ve been blogging like wildfire but thus far have failed to actually put words to keyboard. I need to see about having that USB port installed in my head. And of course now that I sit here, with literally minutes of free time, I got nadda.

I suck.

But that's not going to stop me.

So let me distract you from the fact that I got nothing in the way of funny by delivering you a quick summary of ma vie en dullsville.

After seven years of being exclusive with the old Dell-dinosaur, I’ve finally started seeing a new laptop. It’s not serious yet. We've decided to keep it casual and see where it goes. Of course, I keep finding myself seeking comfort with my old slow, dilapidated laptop. You know I hate change. Plus all my friends are in here…. And lots and lots of pictures that I don’t yet feel comfortable sharing with the new guy. Least he gets the wrong idea about me.

In other news, remember that post saying “Its’s not swine flu”… I guess I lied. Last week sucked. ‘Nuff that.

In keeping with all things craptastic, it appears that I missed the boat on making Taz a movie star. Disney is filming a new movie, Secretariat, and they had a casting call for horses who could pass as the famous race horse. Well, our Taz just happens to be Secretariat’s Grandson and a spitting image of him to boot.

Taz or Secratariat? (hint: That's not me)

Not only does Taz have just the right look (right down to that funny kite marking on his head), but he knows his way around a race track (left turn, then a left, another left… har har!) and he’s quiet enough that anyone could ride him. Unfortunately, the cut off to submit headshots was September 7. Boo! So no hanging with Diane Lane, John Malkovich, or Kevin Connolly for Taz.

The real Taz