I decided to check this out for myself, because as I have said before, I think Matthew is some serious eye candy. I bet he is stinky because he does not wear deodorant (do not question my facts... I have this on good authority) but I could listen to him talk all day long.
I like the way his mouth forms his words. I wonder if he knows how incredibly sexy he is. I mean, I am sexy, but I don't know it. Seriously. I wonder if he knows it. I wonder if he sits around playing bongos with his shirt off and thinks "Damn, I am sexy... and the way I talk is going to get me chicks."
Anyway... I found this on You Tube. I have watched it 75 times so far and am seriously contemplating packing up the kids and husband and volunteering.
All I know is that if Matthew McConaughey starts doing voice overs for McDonald's then I am in big big trouble.
You know when you are trying to do something and your mind is completely into your task and your husband starts asking you random question after question about something he is doing that has nothing to do with what you are doing and you think you are going to rip his tongue out because the sound of his voice is making you want to scream "STOP TALKING!!!"? I wonder if that would happen if my husband talked like Matthew. I am thinking not.
I bet if my husband talked like Matthew I would hand him the phone book every day and say "Read this to me... we left off on the D's"
I wanted to make those again, but I have been on a health kick lately. You know the kind-nothing good to eat and doing things that make me sweat. It has been awful.
I thought I would make some healthy changes to my cookies. I substituted real sugar for Splenda and real brown sugar for Splenda brown sugar. I didn't care that my older sister thinks Splenda will give me cancer... if I can eat a chocolate chip cookie it is worth it. I also substituted real butter for my Smart Balance Omega-3 spread and white flour for whole wheat flour.
I was so proud of myself.
I waited anxiously for the cookies to bake. I had visions of eating every single one of them and not feeling an ounce of guilt.
My house started to smell like homemade cookies and my mouth couldn't stop watering.
I pulled the cookies out to find that they looked nothing like the yummy cookies I made weeks ago. They did not even get gooey at all. They looked like little lumps of disappointment on a cookie sheet.
I convinced myself that even though they do not look so good, surely they will taste like perfection.
I was wrong. They taste like crap.
Living healthy sucks. I want my cookies back! Curse you size 6 dreams! Curse you!
Me: "Well... let me call Dr. Kiki THE DENTIST!"
Aaron: "What is she going to do to it?"
Me: "DRILL! SCRAPE! DRILL some more!"
Me: "It won't hurt... she'll give you a SHOT in your gums before she starts."
Me: "Oh, don't worry... it only hurts for a second. It will feel like a BEE STING to start with, but it will go numb eventually."
Me: "Well, yeah. Hopefully it will go numb before she starts DRILLING." Now THAT would hurt."
Me: "Well, sometimes dentists are busy and they can't get to you right away so they give you a SHOT in your gums and then leave the room. You hope they aren't doing an EXTRACTION in the next room because if that is the case your numbness will definitely wear off and you will have to get another SHOT! But she won't know that until she starts DRILLING and you cry out in pain."
Aaron: "I feel sick."
Me: "I bet you wish you had brushed your teeth all those times I reminded you to and you decided not to don't you?"
These are life lessons I am teaching here people... LIFE LESSONS!
I came across these puppies a few weeks ago. I thought they were cute but had my doubt on their durability. I mean, how could something so little take on such a job as that of a summer shave after a winter hibernation?
All I can say is: Try Them! You will thank me later. Your husband will be happy to have his face razor back and you won't have to wear an oh so attractive skirt with your bathing suit just because you have a lower region mustache poking out saying hello!
But I wonder if there will be Vatican Vendors chanting things like "WINE... WINE HERE!"
I'm just thinking out loud.
(This one if for you Aunt Barb-Happy Birthday!)
OK, so maybe that story is only half true. Madame Tussaud's did email, but they do not want to make a wax figure of me... at least not yet. They simply invited me to come to their museum and have a great time and then tell all of you, my vast and numerous readers, about my experience. Oh, and they wanted me to tell you that you should go to their museum-which I think you should. If you find yourself in DC I would highly recommend you adding the wax museum to your list of attractions. If you are in Amsterdam, London, Hong Kong, New York, Vegas, Shanghi, or even Berlin, by all means visit Madame Tussauds. You won't be sorry!
Did you know that they let you wander all through the museum and they let you-no, they WANT you to touch all of the wax figures? You can take pictures, touch, stroke, lick, hump... do just about anything you want to do to Brad Pitt (and I did... oh I did!)
The museum starts with your American History sections.
Abe and I had a great time watching Our American Cousin, but I don't know how it ended... we never got to that part.
Then we got to sing with some of America's music legends. Aaron was hanging out with Bob Dylan-who looked better as a wax figure than in real life. I later found Aaron in the back of the museum rolling a joint and thinking up poems that said things like "the man has got me down" and "don't stop my rolling stone" He was playing a tambourine as well. Crazy mixed up kid.
We then got to meet more American greats like Rosa Parks, Muhammad Ali-who is very tall! Did you know that the wax figures are made to the exact specs of the real person? I was surprised to see that Martin Luther King Jr. was not as tall as I had always pictured him to be in my mind. A lot can be said for a person's character and your interpretation of them. I would have thought a certain past President of ours was much much shorter than his wax figure proved him to be. Interesting...
Eventually we made our way to the Scandal Room. J. Edgar Hoover was interrogating Aaron on his "Down with the man" poem. As you can see Aaron looks pretty frightened and thanks to some quick talking, Aaron made it out of there in one piece.
Ryan on the other hand did not take to the interrogations very easily... there is always one in the bunch! This photo reminds me of my childhood.
We headed to the war room where the kids tried to bomb just about everyone they could think of. I am so proud. Here you see me with Winston Churchill. He goosed me on the tush and told me to call him Winny.
After we took this picture I told my friend Eileen that kissing ol' George is a lot like kissing the Blarney Stone in Ireland. Many lips have come before us. My friend Eileen did try and slip him the tongue. We had to go to the hospital after and get her a tetanus shot. I bet that is the last time she tries to make out with a Hollywood star again!
I was able to meet Brad Pitt. I don't know why they had to put that stinking Angelina so frickin' close to him. There was no way of getting a photo without her. Look at little Mary gazing up at Brad. 11 months old and already boy crazy.
Look at the girls getting their groove on with Beyonce! I am proud to say that my butt is smaller than hers. I have a picture, but since I do not want to embarrass Beyonce I will not post it. I don't want her lawyers contacting me.
Don't Johnny and I make a cute couple? Where is Mary you ask? Hidden behind Johnny. Hey~I may be a mother but I do not have to have my children in every photo I take! I just wanted to send this one to the National Enquirer. The title would probably read: "Johnny Depp Loves Blonds!"
After my disappointing discovery about Brad "Ken Doll" Pitt, I was surprised to see that Will Smith CLEARLY was carved out of a different ball of wax! Eileen and I were trying our hardest to win his attentions... but he couldn't take his eyes off of Tom Cruise who was on the other side of the room. I am not spreading rumors... I am just telling you what I saw.
So if you are in DC and want to have a memorable afternoon, head on over to Madame Tussaud's. Tell them June Cleaver sent you and they will give you a blank stare and charge you full price. It is worth it! Check out their site at www.madametussaudsdc.com
That is fine with me because I much prefer being married to someone who is responsible than someone who's idea of a good time is to go fishing for dinner under the highway.
But bad boys still get me a little crazy. I was into tattoos before the rest of the world was into tattoos. I liked them when you only saw them on bikers and paroled criminals. Today just about everyone has a tattoo... I bet our Priest even has a tattoo.
Well, last week while my husband was in Hawaii he decided to come home with the world's greatest gift for me. He had my name tattooed on his upper arm. It was a temporary tattoo... but it is the thought that counts here. The tattoo artist even spelled my name wrong the first time so my husband was thankful he was only getting a temporary tattoo and not a permanent one. He would have hated walking around with the name Jane on his arm for the rest of his life. Not to mention that interrogation I would have given him "So Jane Huh? Just who is Jane? That isn't that woman down the street is it? Do you have another family in Utah that I don't know about? Does Jane make you meatloaf? Does Jane let you pick what to watch on television? Is this Jane skinnier than me? Does Jane have children? Are they your children? Do you love Jane more than you love me? If you don't like the way I fold your underwear, well then you can go live with JANE!" You can see how my husband started to panic over the misspelling because he is married to me... June, not that Jane woman.
This temporary tattoo has brought out the bad boy again in my husband. Just yesterday he went 10 mph over the speed limit. He is such a dare devil.
I love my husband's temporary tattoo... I am trying everything I can to convince him to make it a permanent one. I can't help smiling when I envision him standing in line behind the family of 6 to get his temporary tattoo. The man really loves me.
He has always had a thing for bad girls...
Today I decided to do my darling husband a favor and mow the lawn. I enjoy mowing the lawn as it gets me out of the house and I cannot hear the children screaming for a snack over the loud engine. Mowing the lawn offers me a good 45 minutes of peace. It rates right up there with getting my teeth cleaned. *Big Sigh* Amazing how things that I used to avoid like the plague are now my favorite activities.
My husband bought our mower a few years ago. We paid well over 500 bucks for this thing. Every year he gets a tune up on it. This I never understand. Personally, if something cost so much it should not only work, it should also poop out diamonds. Our mower does neither.
For a good 30 minutes I huffed and puffed over the mower while I tried to start it. I cursed, I kicked it, I called it "stupid" and probably had the neighbors poised at their windows watching in delight. Our amazing, expensive, "just turn the key" mower will not start! Now I get to drive the mower over to the lawn mower repair guy and pay $100 to get it to start. I wish we lived in Arizona where everyone has rocks that accentuate the color of their house instead of this lousy grass that keeps growing.
When I was a kid, my father never had our mower tuned up. He never had the blades sharpened. He never changed the oil or replaced the spark plugs. Heck, I remember the day my Dad was driving down the street and saw a lawn mower in someones trash so he stopped, tossed it in the trunk, and brought it home. It fired right up and we used that mower for the next 10 years. Sure, it was a fire hazard. Sure, it was eating away the ozone above Chicago. Sure, it may take 20-30 pulls of the chord to get it choking and started. Sure, it may have even only had three wheels at one time and I had to balance it just right to get an even cut... but it worked!
We never fertilized. We never aerated. We never thatched. My parent's idea of yard work was to send us kids out with a bucket and tell us to pick all of the dandelions that covered the front lawn.
I bet my father has spent only $27.83 on lawn maintenance his entire life... and that includes the lawn mower that he found in the trash. My husband has spent thousands on lawn maintenance in the past few years alone... and now he has to buy a new lawn mower because I clobbered our $500 one with a hammer just a few moments ago.
Maybe I should see if the gas powered weed whacker will start. The one where you have to push a button, pull a trigger, hold down a lever and squeeze the handle all at the same precise time in order to get it to start. That is my favorite lawn tool. I always feel better after I have yelled and screamed and clobbered a tree with the end of that tool.
Or what about the edger. That is a great tool... especially when I accidentally hit the cement and it sends vibrating pains through my arms. Good times, good times.
My absolute favorite thing about lawn work is that extension chord that you have to drag around the yard. Once I accidentally sliced the extension chord with the weed whacker and did not realize it until I bent down to pull the chord while the whacker was still running and I sent electric shocks through my body. It shot out my big toe like a lightening bolt. I still have the scar to prove it.
Maybe I should go see if the lawn mower has decided to work yet. Maybe I should just call a lawn service. Maybe I should go take a bubble bath.
We went to breakfast after Mass yesterday and everyone was sitting around the table talking about the good old days-back when the wheel was invented and the men folk came running home grunting about fire. Boy did that one backfire-now us women folk are always around a fire cooking for the men folk. Those men always discover things that will go down in history as GREAT, but screw us women at the same time. It is like when they lose their car keys and blame it on their wife.
Anyway, we were talking about what gifts we received when we graduated high school. Eileen's parents gave her a typewriter for graduation. Her 13 year old daughter had to ask what a typewriter was. She couldn't believe that people actually LIVED with such things at one time. She then asked if her mother had indoor plumbing.
I am significantly younger than my friend Eileen. I mean... significantly. When she asked me what the big gift was at the time of my graduation I said:
Of course my parents didn't get me boobs. They bought me luggage. I guess it is the same, they both make your back hurt after a day of carrying them and men will always offer to hold them for you.
8:15 a.m. Make myself an egg white omelet.
8:17 a.m. Still hungry so I search the fridge... I see some leftover cake. Self control keeps me away from it! Success!
9:30 a.m. See a half eaten pop tart on the counter. Resist the urge to eat the entire thing and only nibble on a corner and toss the rest. Pat myself on the back for being so strong willed.
10:00 a.m. Grab a girl scout cookie and eat it before my mind can tell me to stop. Try to spit it out but I have already swallowed it. Re-evaluate my defense skills.
11:30 a.m. Eat a roasted chicken salad. Wonder if I am thinner than I was this morning since my jeans feel a little lose around the ankles.
12:30 p.m. Go through the Arby's drive-thru to give myself a reward for being so good this morning. Order a small order of mozzarella sticks.
12:35 p.m. Sit outside of my son's Tae Kwon Do school and prepare myself for my reward. I am only human. I cannot live on lettuce and egg whites!
12:36 p.m. Scream out in horror when I discover that my order of mozzarella sticks must have been sitting under the heat lamps for no less than 4 hours as they are hard and gross. Vow to sue Arby's.
2:30 p.m. Notice that the kids have opened yet another box of girl scout cookies. Flip through a Self Magazine in order to ward off the girl scout cookie temptations.
2:32 p.m. Hang my head in disgust after eating an entire row of cookies. Make a mental promise that I will never again buy girl scout cookies-I don't care how cute those little girls are when they ring my doorbell.
3:00 p.m. Discover that I have started my period. Eat the rest of the box of cookies and half a bag of Doritos. Still feel hungry.
3:30 p.m. Decide that I will only eat a salad for dinner to counter attack all of the cookies consumed.
4:00 p.m. See a woman jogging on the street while I am driving and think for a brief moment that I would like to run her over. Make mental note to get to confession this week.
4:30 p.m. Spend the late afternoon outside with the kids in order to stay out of the kitchen. Feel good about being an attentive mom and having self control... remind myself that I never worried about what I ate until I started having children-blame my husband.
5:00 p.m. Run through Wendy's drive-thru for dinner (it is a busy day). Feel proud of the fact that I chose Wendy's because they have salads and yogurt. Order the yogurt only to find that they stopped selling that 2 months ago. Grumble and order a fries instead... and a frosty. How did this backfire???
8:30 p.m. Open the door to my neighbor who is bringing me over a dozen freshly baked walnut/chocolate chip cookies. Set the cookies on the counter and resist the urge to eat them all.
8:32 p.m. Finish off the last of the 12 cookies.
9:00 p.m. Take a shower and suck in my stomach. Put my pj's on and get ready to climb into bed. Try on a pair of new shoes. Bask in the fact that my shoes always fit no matter what I weigh. Decide to start the healthy lifestyle tomorrow. Promise to be more committed. Vow to stop honking at joggers when I drive by.