The Peace Corps Are The Smartest People On The Earth!

My Aunt Barb sent me an email yesterday that had her all in a twitter. It seems that while she was happily buzzing about at work, she heard something on the radio that gave her an instant hot flash. It was Matthew McConaughey doing a public service announcement for the Peace Corps. My Aunt was ready to pack her bags.

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"

Mercy.

Living Healthy Sucks...

All day long I have been thinking of a batch of cookies I made a few weeks ago. They were the most delicious chocolate chip cookies ever. They were the perfect combination of ewwy and gooey. I followed the recipe on the back of the Nestle Toll House Chip bag to a tee. I was in cookie heaven.

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!

Serial Killers, Beautiful People, and Fried Pig's Butt...

Has anyone seen the television show Dexter? It used to be on Showtime, but some network executive sold his soul to the devil and put in on CBS. This show scares the living daylights out of me. It ranks right up there with Pulp Fiction and Deliverance for severely disturbing viewing. Seriously, after sitting through an episode last night I had to go read my Bible.

One show that I am addicted to is The Tudors on Showtime. Of course there is royalty, passion, obsession, infidelity, nudity, rage and lust, but there is also Saint Thomas More. The only thing I don't get about this show is how they think they can fool me with the incredibly hot Johnathan Rhys Meyers portraying ol' King Henry VIII. Now, I was not alive in the times of Henry (good thing too, because I don't think I could deal with being beheaded) but all of the paintings I have seen portray Henry to be fat and not so good looking. Anyway... if you have not seen The Tudors, you shouldn't start now as last night Thomas More was martyred and I suppose that means all that is left of the series is more nudity, passion, and beautiful people. If you don't like that kind of thing-well then stay away.

But I have to tell you about the best show on television right now. I would watch this show above any other show. My entire family loves this show and we watch it with great excitement. It is Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern.

This show is fabulous. I would want to travel with Andrew Zimmern just to watch him eat weird stuff. I bet he was the kid in school who sat in the back of the class and ate paint. The thing I like the most about him is that he eats the most disgusting things with some major cahones. They could be feeding him a pigs butt turned inside out and deep fried in hot chili peppers after it has been sitting in a vat of fermented cow poo for three weeks and he will not just take a nibble, no, Andrew pops the entire thing in his mouth and chews with vigor. Now that is what real television is made of!

My husband would be a great side-kick for Andrew Zimmern. That man will eat anything at least once. I, on the other hand, would be a very bad side-kick because I would spend my time vomiting at the sight of what he is eating and asking for my saltine crackers and bottled water the entire trip. I have heard that spoiled Tofu is all the rage in Asia. Thank God I am an American!

Hey, doesn't Andrew Zimmern look a lot like Henry VIII? Johnathan Rhys Meyers looks like my husband... seriously. I am such a lucky girl-he could have looked like Henry VIII!

Gentlemen... Start Your Brains

I know that most of my readers are of the female persuasion... but there are a few fellas out there that read me so this post if for you.

I am going to help you-you need to send me flowers to thank me.

May 11 is Mother's Day. There... I helped you.

I tell you this because I just read it on my calendar and I groaned a little inside. I groaned because I am doing it to myself again. I am thinking up all kinds of happy romantic ideas that my husband will do for me for Mother's Day and then Mother's Day will come and go and none of it will happen. I will be left making dinner for everyone, cleaning the house, and ultimately getting in a fight with my husband about the fact that he didn't do anything (or anything that I consider worthy enough) and I will go to bed mad and drunk.

This is what I think a husband should do for their wife on Mother's Day: He should worship her. He should get the kids up early and help them make her breakfast in bed. He should have taken the kids to the store THE WEEK PRIOR and helped the kids pick our little presents for her-some suggestions are her favorite perfume, her favorite candy bar, her favorite flavor of Doritos, her favorite lotion, a frame with a picture of the kids, a good book, a home decorating magazine... that kind of stuff. He should then take his wife and children to Church and pray for his wife the entire time he is there. After Church he should take his wife and children on a picnic lunch to a park and not one that used to be a battleground. After an afternoon of sunning themselves on a blanket and letting the kids play, the husband should take the wife home and insist she take a nap. He should make sure she wakes to the smell of her favorite dinner cooking and she should come down to a set dinner table and a freshly vacuumed house. When dinner is over, he should hand his wife a beer (or glass of wine) and tell her to go read in the living room while he and the kids do the dishes. After dishes the husband should suggest a nice walk with his wife (no kids allowed) and upon return to the house, the husband should bathe and put all children to bed while his wife watches what she wants on the television. When the kids are in bed and the bathroom is cleaned up from evening baths, the husband should then bring a bowl of ice cream to his wife and rub her feet telling her how much he loves her and how much he appreciates ever thing she does for him and their children. He should then just gaze into her eyes-never once looking down at her breasts.

If you do this men, I can guarantee you that you will love the close of Mother's Day. Remember... be good to Mama and she will be good to you.

Start preparing now, because she will know the difference between a well thought out plan and one that you throw together at the last moment.

Good Luck!

When Was The Last Time You Brushed Your Teeth...

Aaron: "Mom, I have a tooth that hurts."

Me: "Well... let me call Dr. Kiki THE DENTIST!"

Aaron: "What is she going to do to it?"

Me: "DRILL! SCRAPE! DRILL some more!"

Aaron: "WHAT?"

Me: "It won't hurt... she'll give you a SHOT in your gums before she starts."

Aaron: "WHAT?"

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."

Aaron: "NUMB?"

Me: "Well, yeah. Hopefully it will go numb before she starts DRILLING." Now THAT would hurt."

Aaron: "WHAT?"

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!

Summer Plucking, Havin' A Blast...

The time has come once again for women to torture themselves by plucking, shaving, waxing, and bleaching. Yes friends... bathing suit season is knocking at the door.

I hate bathing suit season because, well... I have to wear a bathing suit. I remember in my youth I never minded wearing a bathing suit. I used to live in my bathing suit when I was a kid because we had a pool in the backyard and since we did not have central air, the pool was the only way to survive Chicago summers.

When I became a teenager I enjoyed bathing suit season because I looked smokin' hot in my suit. My sisters and I were not allowed to wear bikini's because we had very strict parents. Mom and Dad didn't always go to the Dunes with us... that is all I am going to say on that subject.

After I had a couple of kids I still could pull off a cute suit-one that showed off my assets and hid my flaws. After a couple of more kids, I have come to the realization that I need to invest in a moo moo bathing suit. I have more flaws that need to be hidden and a simple bathing suit-I don't care if it is named the "miracle" suit or not-is not going to hide them all.

But I am not talking about flabby flaws today. No, I will not entertain you with stories of jelly rolls or junk in my trunk. Today I am going to give you a gift-that is right... an amazing gift.

Since men rule the world and have made it perfectly clear that they like their women hairless (except for on the head, if all women had long flowing luxurious hair men would finally be able to stop worrying about war and be able to move on to more productive things like World hunger and peace.) I have found the most perfect thing for shaving the area "down under", or "where the sun don't shine" or "VIP only" or what ever it is you like to call it.

Are you ready for this? Say good-bye to waxing! Say so long to plucking! Never again cut yourself with your husband's face razor, and for the love of God-put down the smelly Nair!

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!

The Trip..

Starts on Saturday..

Rockstar makeover!

Pope Here... Get Your Pope Here!

Tomorrow the Pope is saying Mass at the Washington Nationals Stadium. Since this is usually a Major League Baseball stadium I am sure they will get rid of all of the baseball vendors yelling things like "BEER! GOT YOUR BEER HERE!" or "HOT DOG! GET YOUR HOT DOG!" and even "POPCORN! POPCORN HERE!"

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!)

Brad Pitt Is A Ken Doll...

A few weeks ago I received an email from the good people at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum here in Washington DC. They wanted me to come in and pose for a wax figure. They said that they were going to make my figure a drunken housewife with babies hanging off of her hip and laundry piled up behind her. I was fine with that assessment but I only had one request... that my breasts were not saggy. I figured if I was going to be immortalized in wax, I wanted perky boobies for all eternity.

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.

Finally we entered our favorite room. The room that allows you to take a photo with a movie star and then try and pass it off as real. As if someone would ever do that. That would be like placing your baby in George Clooney's arms while you hang off of his body as if you are a happy little family and running away together and then POST it on your blog site for all of the world to see. Who would do that? Not me-sheesh. But I would do this...

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.

I wanted to see if Madame Tussaud's made the wax figures EXACTLY like the real person. I was disappointed to discover that Brad Pitt is hung much like a Ken Doll. Poor Angelina. Can I just ask the questions that you all are thinking? What kind of mother am I that I would grope Brad Pitt while my baby is strapped to my body? I should be ashamed! Believe me, I am ashamed and disappointed... sorely disappointed.

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

Nothing Says I Love You Like a Tattoo...

Have I mentioned before that I like bad boys? I do-bad boys drive me crazy. My husband was a bad boy when I met him and then he made a sharp turn at the intersection of Responsibility and Jail and headed straight for the Clean Cut life.

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...

The prophetic fortune cookie?

My fortune cookie contained a triple fortune.  A triple.  I've seen doubles, but never a triple. It's a sign.  

Although, I disagree that the best way to get rid of an enemy is to be his friend (and by enemy, I'm sure the fortune cookie means my glorious would-be ex husband, Biff).   I'd rather have him cryogenically frozen for a few millenia.  Then he'd wake up to a future world, ruled by mutant frog people who survived nuclear alien holocaust and famine by hiding in Peruvian caves for thousands of years and eating canned food, only emerging once the canned goods were eaten up (But they had a lot so it lasted for quite a while)- so they're all pasty and hairless & white and their eyes got bigger, and they carry sticks that shoot lasers.  One is called Chief Boyardee because somewhere along the way, they started regarding the makers of the canned goods as religious leaders.  Once my 'enemy' is dug out of the ground and unfrozen in the hot tub and washed up to the music of 'I'm too sexy' by right said Fred, he becomes the most popular guy in high school.  He even gets to bring along his ancient girlfriend who sadly appears to have been mummified.  But her armpit high jeans were preserved beautifully.  Luckily, he woos a new girlfriend named Bork who can catch chickens like none of the other girls. Late one night, Bork is POSITIVE that she's been given the old stinkeye from miss mummification, but everyone else convinced her that it was just a mutant future fly landing on her face and wanted to know if she'd seen the fly a second time, because they were after all, mutant frog people and logically, they should be catching flies.  Then they got sidetracked talking about flies.

The point is that he would be happily living in a different century than I, which would be just as good as a divorce.

WHAT.  I've been watching futurama and eating chinese food.  

Just A Tease...

I'll tell you all about my day with Mr. Clooney very soon... I need some time to bask in the beautiful moment that it was.

Morning sunshines.

B-I-N-G-O

Tonight I went to Bingo with my friend, Jami, her Granny and my 92 year old auntie Val to the Ukrainian Catholic Church Basement Bingo..  It was more fun than I've had in a while (yes.  I admit it).  I haven't been to any kind of bingo since I was 12 and went with my Granny. Well.  I barely held my head above water  tonight while Jami's Gran tore through her 5 bingo cards, then checked mine, Jami's and Auntie's cards for mistakes.  It was crazy.  She was nice enough to lend me a bingo dabber, too AND a glue stick, which are items one must bring to bingo.

I'm going to go buy a bingo dabber holster and an I heart bingo sweatshirt for next time.  Preferably one with kittens holding the dabbers and saying, "I'd rather be playing Bingo!"

Ruth McQuarrie won 4 of the bingos!  It was mind boggling.  Four bingos in one evening?... That Ruth.  She's a Bingo maniac!

Number one thing that I learned:  Old ladies swear in church sometimes.

Isn't this a great look?

I look like a battered woman.  I went to the dentist on Tuesday, got some very minor work done and I have looked Laila Ali ever since.  At least the swelling has gone down.  The giant green bruise is so much more flattering.  

There is a silver lining, though.  I am abl to make any situation fun.. I can go into public with Neil and flinch every time he gets near me and watch him scramble for explanations.  

Fun for everyone. *snicker*

Weird dream.

I was crawling through a tunnel with a heavy mattress on my back in a hospital, into the children's playroom where there was a large group of men smoking and watching hockey.  All the men verbally shredded me when I arrived.  My sister was beside me, but she could walk and was happily chatting with me while carrying her youngest child on her hip.  

Crazy, man.

Oh Man.

So I have finally actually started going to the gym again after the whole pregnancy shmozzle.  Now, I know I told you people that I was going weeks and weeks ago.. but it was locked when I got there and I had also taken my son's shoes by mistake.  So I came home and holed up on the couch for an extra few weeks with all the chocolate I could afford.  But fun time is now over for me.  The chocolate is gone.   I knew this day would come.  Plus, I went shopping for new non-maternity clothes and that. was. muy. depressing.  Nothing will kick you in the arse like clothes shopping (there is just nothing like having to buy an ugly shirt because you cried and goobered all over it in the change room to motivate you).  So I restarted my gym regimen.  Tally ho.  Off I went.

I made it for a pitiful wheezing 45 minutes of half walking, half jogging on the treadmill.  I found myself in a position strikingly similar to those character you see in cheap movies being forced to walk at gunpoint after having the tar beaten out of them. At least the only person was a weird old man in jeans... or maybe I should worry about that... I unno.   Anyway, soon enough I'll be back to trying to look impressive while clutzing around somewhat painlessly on the universal resistanator machines in hideous jogging pants.  Right now I have no hope, just the hideous jogging pants.  

Plus Neil is going to teach me his awesome ninja skills.  Pretty soon I'll be able to beat everyone up, but first I have to catch my breath.

I Believe This Is Adam's Sin...

They just don't make things the way they used to.

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.

Over The Shoulder Boulder Holder Luggage...

Yesterday was my friend Eileen's birthday. She is a whopping 44! She is doing well-doesn't even have to wear adult diapers yet.

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:

"Boobs."

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.

Go, Browse The Neighborhood...

Go check out Rob's blog at http://sardoniccatholicdad.blogspot.com/ He is a Dad of like... 27 kids. He has a great sense of humor-but I think he may be blogging from the loony bin, I am not sure. His only vice is that he runs for exercise. I know, I shudder at the thought.

Sull does his chores...

This may save your life.

So Neil and I were having a really deep conversation about really deep subjects when the topic of flammable snack food came up, as it always seems to when people are having important discussions.  He said that doritos were flammable.  Well,  I found this incredulous.  How could doritos be THAT flammable?  Then I started thinking about the other foods i knew of that were highly flammable... coffee mate... dryer sheets...  mushroom soup...  and I decided that I had to know the truth.  Are doritos REALLY flammable?  Well I just happen to have a bag containing 144 cheese flavoured corn tortilla chips AND a lighter AND a very expensive camera AND some beer.  So here we go.

  

It turns out that cheese flavoured corn tortilla chips ARE highly flammable.  Better than kindling flammable.  As in, I will keep my snacks away from open flames at all times from now on flammable.  

Thank you.

Why Do Today What You Can Put Off Until Tomorrow...

8:00 a.m. Wake up and decide that today is that day that I will start to lead a healthy life style. Get all excited about how fabulous I will soon look and dream about the size 6 shorts I will buy.

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.