They Really Should Put Warning Labels On These Things...

I am a natural blond and therefore my eyebrows are obsolete. I have never been able to find a eyebrow pencil that matches how light they are and when I do try to apply an eyebrow pencil, or powder, or ink, I end up looking like a blond Brooke Shields circa 1982. It is not pretty.

I used to get my brows waxed, because although you cannot see them, there were indeed bushy. Eventually I decided to wax them myself and finally I have settled on the handy dandy nose/eyebrow/bikini hair trimmer.

These are great little appliances and I have been able to keep my invisible eyebrows trimmed and shapely. One piece of advice though-if you are going to buy one of these, you need to show it to your husband and tell him that he is not to use it on any part of his body whatsoever! Imagine my horror when I walked into the bathroom one day to find my husband with my eyebrow trimmer several inches up his nose. Turns out he had been using my trimmer to tame those Wiley nose hairs. I cringe to think of my trimmer in his ear.

Anyway... the other day I was trimming my eyebrows when I thought they looked a little long in the length. I put on the trimming protector that helps to keep retards like me from shaving your eyebrow right off. Well, I thought I had put in on the "long length" side, but I guess I put it on the"short length" side.

They should put a warning on the label that the short length attachment is purely for women who shave their entire eyebrow off and then pencil in a 1950's eyebrow.

Now my invisible eyebrows are gone. What is a girl to do...


It's A Good Day To Be A Garbage Man...

My husband told me that there would not be trash pick-up today since it is Memorial Day. I believed him and we did not put the smelly trash bin out on the curb.

This morning I was folding towels. My most hated chore is to wash towels. I can always think of ten different clothing items that need to be washed before the towels and before I know it the linen closet is empty and I am drying myself off with a Chicken Little Beach towel. It is then and only then that I will toss a load of towels in the wash. If I were still using the Sponge Bob Beach towel I would not even think of doing a load of towels for at least 3 more days.

Anyway, seeing as I have been drying my butt off on Chicken Little's face, I decided to do a load of towels and was in the process of stuffing them in the linen closet when I heard a truck. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened. Was it a moving truck? No. Was it the UPS man? No. It couldn't be the garbage man could it?

I ran to the window to see the Garbage truck barrelling down our road! OH NO!

I took the stairs two at a time and leaped out the front door. I saw my teenage neighbor mowing his lawn and yelled "COLIN! GRAB MY CAN!!!" He looked at me as if I had said "COLIN! MEKA LEKA HI MEKA HINEY HO!" He had no idea what I was screaming at him. He quickly figured it out when he saw me pulling the 1000 lb. trash bin from the side of our house. Colin dragged my can to the curb (hahaha... dragged my can to the curb-that reminds me of college), and I lugged all of the trash bags that were piled up by the house attracting flies, raccoons, dogs, cats and the occasional chipmunk.

As I handed the last of our trash bags to our shirtless garbage man, he looked at me, glanced down at my bra-less chest and said "Thanks Sweetie."

I looked around to see my neighbor Stacey had run out in her braless pj's to take her trash out and my neighbor Michelle was running out with her bra-less pj's to give the garbage men Girl Scout cookies. She gives them Girl Scout cookies every year to say thanks for their service.

I just run out bra-less and in my pj's. I think that is a gift in and of itself.


How's That For Paving The Way...

I have 8 nieces and nephews. The oldest is my niece Jessica. She is my star-my numero uno. To know this kid is to know joy. To love her is to love perfection. I adore all of my nieces and nephews. I view them as if they are my own and I love them as if they are from my own body, but Jessica is the first. She was the first to get a tooth, to lose a tooth, to walk, to run, to talk, to sing, to start school, to get the first "A", to go to high school, to get her drivers permit, to go to prom. She will be the first to graduate from high school, the first to go to college, the first to graduate college... you get the picture. She is leading the pack. She is the example.

Jess is a Junior in high school. Last night was the Awards Banquet and you guessed it, Jessica walked away with numerous awards. The highlight of the night was the surprise that Jess won a scholarship! She had to hold a 3.0 average (which I believe her average is above a 4.0) had to participate in 2 school sports (Jessica not only participates in sports, she excels in them) and she had to write an essay.

Here is her essay:

“Life is a long succession of choices and dreams. How important are the decisions
that I make today in affecting tomorrow?”

How important are the decisions I make today? It would seem that little, day to day choices are not going to really change my future. It would seem that big decisions are what count. However, it is the small, little choices in life that lead to the big decisions. It is the small decisions which form how you react to the large ones. And it is the small decisions that in time form who a person becomes, who I will become.

I have often heard that if you are not to be trusted in the small tasks, then you will never be given the opportunity to prove yourself in the larger ones. All too often it is the small, everyday occurrences which people wave away as “unimportant.” But it is the small, everyday tasks which form a person’s opinion of you. If a person is lazy and uncaring when entrusted with a small job, then they will not be allowed to reach for higher assignments. When a person makes a small, little choice not to do a homework assignment, to wash the cafeteria tables sloppily when they are on lunch duty, or only shoot nineteen free throws instead of the allotted twenty at basketball practice, they are unconsciously creating a habit in themselves to execute life half-heartily. These little choices that occur innumerable times in a day form a person’s character, and how they will react in the future.
The decisions a person makes today directly influence their tomorrow. The character I form today will not drastically change and loose its imperfections on the marrow. The choices of today form the character that lives in the tomorrow, and that character will influence how people react to me, how people will judge me, and whether people will take me seriously or not, whether I will be given ample opportunities in life or not. My character is my future. My character, my future, my tomorrow formed by this one chance, this one shot, this one today, this one opportunity to have a good tomorrow, to have a tomorrow worth living for. Today is to be cherished, it is the greatest gift, it is the only today, it is the one today in a thousand todays that lead to my one tomorrow.
Now you can see why I think she is the bomb. Simply... she is.
For those of you who may be reading this and would like to plagiarize it for your college entrance essay, do not try it. I have copyrighted it on the Web and if you try and pass this tremendous work on as your own, you will be found out. Not only will you be found out, you will not get into Harvard-or Community College, which ever your SAT scores are allowing you. Not only will you not get into your college of choice, but your name and address with be forwarded to me, June Cleaver, and I will then hunt you down.
Jessica is an original. There is none like her (except for her siblings and cousins of course). She cannot be copied. She cannot be duplicated.
You can strive to be like her, and in the process make yourself better. But in my eyes, you can never be a Jessica. She is a super star!


Bravo American Idol... Bravo!

All I have to say is that American Idol did it up last night. That was an awesome show with ZZ Top, Brian Adams, Donna Summers, and One Republic. George Michael was a little off and I must admit that I did fall asleep during his performance. He looked a little like a wax figure from Madame Tussuad's... weird.

David Cook Rocks.

My 13 year old kept saying "I don't know any of these singers! They should have someone like the Jonas Brother on here." I thought she was having a brain aneurysm when the did actually perform on the show. I could not hear for 45 seconds because I think my ear drums were broken from her primal screams of joy. It reminded me of the time I saw Michael Jackson as a young teenager. Hopefully the Jonas Brothers will not meet the same fate of old MJ. I have heard that they do travel with a monkey though... Lord have mercy.

My only complaint is that I will have nothing to do on Tuesday and Wednesday nights anymore. No David Cook to Rock out to on the tele. What am I supposed to do now?

Wait... what is that I just read? Last Comic Standing starts tonight at 8:30????

There is a God.


Why The Hell Are You Being So Nice To Me?

Today was Emma's last day of preschool. Next year she will be homeschooled like the rest of the rug rats around here. I am very excited... she is a little apprehensive.

The problem is that all of the stinkin' little kids in her preschool class are going to Kindergarten next year, at an actual school. Emma is feeling a little gyped.

I tried to explain to her that next year Hope and Aaron will no longer be homeschooled and will be gone all day long so she and I will be able to color and sing and do crafts and cook and bake and play games and learn to read and solve world hunger. She just looked at me and said:

"Not if you are going to use your happy voice. I don't like your happy voice."

I blinked twice, thought to myself that she has become so used to my "mean voice" that she finds my "happy voice" disturbing. I can just picture the phone conversation we will have when she is 36 and says to me, "Well Mother, my therapist says that you never talked to me in a happy voice and I became dependant on your mean voice and that is why I am emotionally constipated."

I asked Emma why she doesn't like my happy voice.

She said, "It creeps me out mom."

I think she is going to be the hardest one to break... damn.


Oh For The Love of God...

Murphy loves my family.

For the past 4 months I have been cleaning this house in order to sell/rent it. My children all have ulcers now because they never know if I am going to blow up because they have taken out a toy to play with, or if they have walked on a freshly vacuumed carpet, or if they have just pooped in a freshly scrubbed toilet.

My husband has been banned from showering at our home because of the hairs that simply spring off of his body each time he towels off and fall onto my scrubbed and sparkling bathroom floor.

The dog has no idea where to lay down to take a nap because she is constantly being tossed in the back yard so that I could sweep, and the sight of her dog hair on my hardwood floors is enough to send me ranting and threatening to sell her to the lowest bidder.

Our house has been living at Defcon 1.

I have shown this house to well over 50 million potential buyers/renters (I am not kidding... 50 MILLION!). Each of them have told me how much they love my house and how clean it is. None of these people who have been in my home, walked through my bedrooms, laid eyes on my bathrooms, peeked in my private closets and rummaged through my attic, have decided that they want to live in my house. This house that I have cleaned until my hands are raw and my family is afraid to sit on the furniture for fear of leaving a butt imprint.

Today we signed a lease with a wonderful family who has fallen in love with our house.

They never came out to walk through the house. They chose to rent it solely on the photos that I have on the web. The same photos that I took one afternoon before I started Cleangate 2008. The photos where I simply took all the crap out of the room I was photographing and had it piled up behind me and then replaced when I was done taking the picture.

All the cleaning that I have done is kind of like shaving my legs when my husband is out of town. Pointless.

Curse you Murphy!


Yes... They Are Real

Saturday night Carl and I went to a slogan t-shirt party.

There were some really funny ones there-none that I can repeat here because my mother reads my blog. I would have to explain them all to her and then they wouldn't be funny anymore. Kind of like the time I told her a joke that involved KY Jelly. She laughed and laughed and then said "What is KY Jelly?"

My favorite t-shirt said "Brown Chicken... Brown Cow"

Keep saying it over and over again and then toss in a 1970's porn theme music in the background. You will be singing "brown chicken brown cow" all day long.

I promise.


Happy Mother's Day...

My neighbor bought a Harley a few months back. I hear him rev it up on occasion and it makes me smile. One day I was out on a walk and this neighbor was out in the front lawn taking an ax to a tree stump. His wife walked out and I said "Beth! First the Harley and now he has to go all Lumber Jack on me!"

A few days after that I walked out to see my husband had just come home from work. He was wearing his flight suit and leather jacket. Beth was chatting with him and turned to me and said "And you don't this THIS is sexy?"

Oh I do... I do...

Since it is Mother's Day, I thought I would give you all a gift. I could put a picture of male models with their shirts off and tell you to enjoy, but I thought I would give you the real thing. A picture of real heros. Real heros looking HOT in their flight suits.

This is my brother-in-law Chet's Wardroom - they are going through the Straits of Magellan.

I just wanted you to see a few of the heros that are out there making sure that you sleep in peace each night.

And each and every one of them has a mother that loves her boy more than life itself.

Happy Mother's Day!


Holy Stretched Out Uterus Batman!

Well... the Duggars have done it again! Baby #18 is due on New Year's Day 2009!

Michelle Duggar has been pregnant for 11 years of her life. 11 YEARS!

I will not say those cruel things that I am sure they hear like "You know what causes that don't you?" or "Holy Crap are you crazy?????" No, I will not say such mean and hurtful things... but I will ask for a moment of silence for Michelle's stomach skin because you know as well as I do that there is no elastic left on that puppy whatsoever.

I complain about my Shar Pei-puppy like stomach. I could not imagine. I wonder if she has to tuck her stomach into her blue jeans. Ack!

How in the world do they remember the kids names? I bet they don't drink-they need to-but I bet they don't. That is probably how they are able to remember the names. Growing up in my family my sisters and I were all known as "ColCriClaire... YOU!" There were only three of us and my mother had a hard time with it. I have 4 children and cannot for the life of me remember the baby's name on most days and just yesterday I called our oldest by the dog's name.

All of the kid's have names that start with "J." After 18 you would think they would be running out. Eventually there will be a Jujubes Duggar and a Jump Rope Duggar, maybe even a Jingle Bells Duggar.

The dad... Jim Bob Duggar says that the key to their happy family is that everyone treats everyone as they would like to be treated. Ahhh, the old "golden rule." That didn't work in my house. I wanted to be left alone so I left the kids alone and they almost burned down the house, shaved the dog, painted the baby purple with (thankfully) washable markers, made signs that read "Honk if you are a serial killer" and posted them in the back windows of the car and called 911 to report me missing after I had locked myself in the bathroom to just take a 5 minute shower!

Congratulations Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar. You crazy kids.


The Good... The Bad... The Love...

Today is my parents wedding anniversary. I am very blessed to have been a product of their drunken Irish love. They have taught me so many things.

Like how to get your point across by throwing a spoonful of mashed potatoes at someone at the family dinner table.

My mother taught me how to teach my children not to smoke by giving me a drag of the cigarette she lit up just to prove a point to my father.

My mother also taught me that actions speak louder than words... although screaming usually gets the message sent.

They taught me that it is OK to smack your kid in front of a Priest. The Priest is always on the side of the parents.

I learned that the main reason to have children is so that they can do chores around the house... and get beer out of the garage fridge.

My father taught me that price tags are simply a bargaining point. Everything can be bartered down.

My dad also taught me how to throw rocks at people and argue passionately over a place in line at the paper recycling center.

I have learned that family vacations are not supposed to be planned out. Just toss your bags in the car and wing it... and it is always more fun if you forget your medication or the vacation money at home while on your trip. That is what makes memories!

My mother told me the night before I was to be married that everything she had taught me to be wrong was now right. It took months before I realized that she was talking about sex and not about drugs, lying, robbing banks, making prank phone calls...

Sure my parents taught me other things like morals, values, responsibility, citizenship and what-not. But I am thankful for all of the lessons that weren't in Dr. Spock's books that they taught me. All of my goodness comes from them.

My mother says my bad habits come from my father's side. My mother also like to pretend that she does not drink, but she come prepared with a six-pack just in case.

Happy Anniversary Ma and Dad! Ya know I love ya!


Bowling at Bolling...

For the record, since today is Cinco De Mayo I was going to post this entire post in Spanish, but since I only know curse words in Spanish I didn't get very far...

Today we went bowling... at Bolling Air Force Base. How do you like that? Bowling at Bolling.

While there I chatted with a fellow blogger and friend Marva. Go check her out at http://marvassanitycheck.blogspot.com/

Marva and I were not bowling while at Bolling. I was not bowling at Bolling because of a few reasons, #1 I was not drunk, #2 I was with my children and I didn't want to embarrass my thirteen year old with my "SuperStar" dance that I must showcase after each of my bowling attempts, and #3 I did not want to show my husband up by beating him in front of all of his esteemed colleagues (a-hem).

Marva was not bowling at Bolling because she had cramps.

I said I had cramps too!

We quickly discovered that if you read a blog long enough, you will start taking on the same menstrual cycle as one another. The blog world is kind of like a sorority house-once a month all the women are insane and the men run for cover.

Remind me to get an ad for Maxi-Pads this time next month. I could make out like a bandit. A very pissed off-for no apparent reason-bandit.