He Was Just Trying To Save The World...

Walendowski is accused of shooting his lawn mower because it wouldn't start. According to the criminal complaint, Walendowski said he was angry because his Lawn Boy wouldn't start Wednesday morning, July 23, 2008. He told police quote, 'I can do that, it's my lawn mower and my yard so I can shoot it if I want.'

I completely understand Mr. Walendowski. I have tried to shoot my lawn mower on many occasions, but found that my son's Nerf gun just didn't offer the satisfaction I was looking for. Next time take a hammer to it. Your neighbors won't call the police on you-they'll just watch out their front window wondering just what kind of entertainment you will be providing next week.

If Mr. Walendowski goes to jail, lawn mowers everywhere will think they can just stop working. Before you know it they will be demanding the same pay as the weed whacker and asking for the week of July 1-7 off. Soon there will be a law passed that a lawn mower can marry a edger and then where will we be? We'll have uncut lawns and weeds creeping over our sidewalks.

Please Mister Jailer... won't you let Mr. Walendowski go free?

It's Just Jokes Baby... Just Jokes

After we had baby #4 my husband and I thought it was time to move on to the next stage of life... the one where you eventually get to sleep through the night and no longer have to look at each other and say "Do you smell poo? Check the baby."

My brain has become very comfortable with the idea that we were done having babies.

Yesterday Carl turned to me and said: "You know, since we already have four kids we might as well have a fifth."

I stood in silence. WHAT? Was he serious? How could this be?

Then he started laughing... he was obviously joking. I was so mad at him that I could have spit nails. He didn't understand why I was being so irrational (he has learned to use the word "irrational" instead of "insane").

I tried to explain to him that although my brain is completely in sync with no more babies, my uterus apparently feels different. When he says things like "let's have another baby" my body immediately starts to ovulate and my ovaries just start tossing out eggs at an alarming rate. I instantly gain 5 lbs. of baby fat around my belly in order to protect the mere thought of another pregnancy, and I could have sworn that a hemorrhoid popped out... I'm not sure.

So a lesson to all you men out there who think if would be "funny" to suggest another baby-STOP! It is cruel and unusual punishment to put a women through that. I mean, when the man I love looks at me and says "Wanna have another baby?" my fallopian tubes do a little happy dance and I find myself buying packages of newborn diapers just so I can get all gaga over how little they are.

Not funny... not funny at all.

Time Again For Another Matthew McConaughey Update...

Matthew, Matthew, Matthew... why do you have to be so weird?

Matthew's description of the birth of his son to OK! Magazine:

"Contractions started kicking in, and we found a great rhythm. I sat there with her, right between her legs. We got tribal on it. We danced to it! I was DJ-ing this Brazilian music. We were jamming!"

Someone please tell me why all of the good looking ones have to be so damn looney. It is a cryin' shame.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far...

Some of you may wonder just where I get all of my wit, my charm, my charisma... well, here is a picture of me Da...

And here is a picture of me Ma...

People are baffled.

Summer thus far.

Fishin' Mission, fat baby, lawnmowers, painting, throwing old junk from my brother's house in a dumpster, river, mud, bills, jokes, dentists, boobies, diapers, lawyers, guitar camp, weeds, fire pits, arm pits, puppet making, festivals, lectures, high school, family, road trips, the quest for Sulpher Lake, books, owies, hugs, walks, puppy savings, kitty litter, diet sabotage, Grannies, weddings, heart attacks, pregnant women, mimes, unexpected company, expected company, trolls, movie projectors, contests, newspapers, piano, volunteering, headaches, rain, cuteness & making room.

I Could Never Date... I Don't Know How To Text.

Carl and I went out with our friends Jim and Trisha Saturday night. After dinner we strolled through the Old Market and ended up at the Upstream Brewery Company. There are two bars in this establishment-one on the main level and one upstairs with the pool tables.

My husband and Jim decided that they wanted to go play some pool so they left Trish and I to fend for ourselves at the downstairs bar. We didn't mind as we were deep in conversation about eyelash tinting and why women should never wear wooden platform shoes with shorts.

At one point the bartender came over and told us that the group of "boys" across the bar would like to buy us a drink. Now, you have to know my friend Trisha before you understand what was about to happen. I was all "OOOOOH! Free Alcohol!" and Trisha was all "WHAT? NO NO NO! DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH THEM!" As if they were going to strip us down and parade us through the streets of Omaha. My dear friend Trisha is a wound a little tightly, but that is what gives her charm.

So after we rejected the free alcohol (crazy I know) we sat and happily chatted about water bras. The bartender came over to us once again and handed me a napkin. The napkin read:
"It is too loud in here. Here is my ph. # Text Me!"

Part of me was all "Hell YEAH! I still got it baby!" and the other part of me was all "I am so damn old because I do not know how to text! I have never texted in my life!" You do this with a cell phone right? (kidding... I am kidding.)

I was amazed that the art form of picking up a woman had been reduced to this. Now a guy does not even have to get up the nerve to walk over to a girl in a bar, he just sends her a napkin with his phone number for her to text him. Do they ever even talk or do they text from across the bar the entire night? What ever happened to good ol' rejection face to face? No wonder men have become so soft. They need to be shot down a few times before they know how to be a real man.

I thought of all of this when I looked up at my napkin passer and shouted across the bar, "NO THANKS!" I tossed down some cash for my drink and sauntered out of there... feeling like I have helped this young man. His future wife will thank me.

I Try To Always Set A Good Example...

Last night my daughter Hope and I went to go see the movie Mama Mia. If you have not seen this movie yet and you have a uterus (or if you at one time had a uterus) and are above the age of High School Musical and the Jonas Brothers, well then you should stop reading this blog RIGHT NOW! Go directly to your car, drive to the movie theater and go see this musical. You will not be sorry!

We went to go see the movie with our friends Lori and Morgan. Lori is my friend and Morgan (a product of Mike and Lori Love) is Hope's friend.

Lori and I both had hot flashes during this film because of the middle aged beautiful men like Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth. Isn't it funny that after you pass the age of 30, men in their 20's don't look so good anymore. I always look at young men as someones child... so please give me a middle aged beautiful man who knows how to take care of a woman and isn't afraid to tow the line.

When the movie was over I looked at Lori and said "Let's see it again!" So we did what any hot blooded woman who shops in the Misses department would do... we hid in the bathroom until the movie started again and sat through it giddily and hot flashily.

As we were leaving, Lori and I were singing ABBA songs and Lori can do a mean shoulder roll if I do say so myself. I am more of the hip swaying persuasion-but we all know our strengths don't we?

Our daughters refused to walk with us and couldn't believe that we thought the old man in the film was sexy. A chorus of "EWWWWS" was heard from the back of the van.

So yes my friends of the Mature Boobies Club... this movie is for you! Finally a movie that women can enjoy, that does not have skinny beautiful girls flaunting around half naked. This is a Mama's Movie. Meryl Streep did a fantastic job! I hear she gets all of her talent from New Jersey.

Why are you still reading this post? You should be half way to the theater by now. Go buy yourself some Milk Duds and enjoy. I am going back tomorrow.



Mercy.

What Does A Hairdresser And A Gynecologist Have In Common?

I am going to get my hair cut today. This is a stressful thing considering I am in a new town and therefore have to go to a new hairdresser. After 2 years in DC I had finally just found a girl who I trusted to take a pair of scissors to my tresses.

I asked my friend Trisha who she recommended and she gave me the name and number of her stylist. This stylist is at a very posh little salon that not only offers haircuts, but they offer eyelash tinting, hand massages, facials, waxing, buffing, lubing... you name it, they offer it. This is the kind of salon that I prefer because it is very rare that I get an hour without my children and if I am going to make a flee for the outdoors sans children I would like to be pampered and buffed while at it. Call me selfish, but that is how I roll... for an entire 60 minutes every 6 weeks.

This morning I got up extra early so that I could shower, shave and tweeze before going to the hair salon. I plucked, spray tanned, and groomed myself into a tizzy. As I was moussing my eyebrows I realized that I prep for a haircut in the same manner that I prep for a pap smear.

I would never go to the gyno without showering, shaving, putting on nice smelling lotions and wearing my best undies and bra. The same applies for the salon. I would never think of going to the salon in the get up that I wear on most days... the hair in a pony tail/tank top and sweat shorts look. I would never want my stylist to think I did not take care of myself, just like I would not want my gyno to think I neglected my appearance either. So I end up heading out for the stylist in the same manner that I would head out for a night on the town. All dolled up!

I guess I could say the same for the dentist. Although the dentist takes a little more preparations as I have to start flossing every day for two weeks prior so that my gums do not bleed during the examination and the dentist looks at me and through his face mask asks "How many times a week do you floss?" If I gave him the truthful answer it would be, "How often do I floss? Well lets see... after I put the kids to bed, do some more laundry, balance the checkbook, pick up stray toys, chat with my mother on the phone, let the dog out, make sure all of the doors are locked, and collapse into bed? About three times a week." No, if I start preparing two weeks before the dentist visit, when he asks me that question I can honestly say, "Every single mother loving day!"

So those are the people who see me at my best... my stylist, my gynecologist and my dentist. If my husband wants to see me looking all pretty he needs to change careers. Lord have mercy.

I Is Edjumacated...

I don't know if it is because I use the word "poo" an awful lot, or because I don't talk about my life as the world’s foremost expert on potential medical applications of molecular nanotechnology... It could just be because the word "pregnancy" is misspelled in my title (blame the alcohol that led to the "pregnacy").

Don't laugh at me... you are the one reading at Junior High School level!

They Don't Call Me June Cleaver For Nothin'

Yes, summer is upon us and that means doing just about anything outdoors. A friend of mine gave me this little picnic tip and let me tell you... it works like a charm! No more pesky flies landing on your Bucket O' Chicken and vomiting their last meal upon it-which was probably cow poo.

All you need for this handy dandy tip is a lemon and some whole cloves. Slice the lemon into quarters and press the cloves into each lemon slice. You know how you put cloves in oranges at Christmas? This is the same thing only with lemons-and they are sliced.

This will make flies run for the hills. You will actually be able to enjoy an entire meal without shooing those darn pests away and cursing at the top of your lungs.

A word of warning... be sure to tell all of your picnic guests that the lemons are not to be eaten! When we got in the car after the last picnic we went to (the picnic where I picked up this fabulous idea) my husband looked at me and said "Did you try those awful lemon slices?"

I am surrounded by intelligence...

Is It Cold In Here? What? I Can't Hear You...

My parents are speeding their way towards my house as I type. In preparation for their much anticipated visit, I have set the thermostat at 94 and made sure the volume on the television goes up to at least 120.

It'll be just like home for them...

Step Away From The Circulation Desk...

I hate PMS. It sneaks up on me like a villain in the night and it makes my life a living hell. My family suffers, the dog suffers... perfect strangers suffer.

Each month I somehow magically forget about PMS, that is until I find myself in a clown suit holding a machine gun in search of the town water tower.

I am sure I have told all of my dear readers about the home we own in Nebraska but cannot move into it because we have renters in there who are not willing to move out SOOO we had to find another home to rent for a year until we can move back into our original home. OK-is everyone caught up? Keep up people, I am not in the mood to wait for slow readers...

Anyway, the home we rent is "technically" in the next town over, although if I crossed the street I would be in the same town that we own our home.

This may be the best advice I am about to ever give you... if you are PMSing do not, I repeat... DO NOT get in an argument with a librarian.

It seems that although we OWN a home in the town we love, we cannot use our library cards at the town library because we no longer LIVE in the town. Even though we PAY TAXES on the home we OWN, we cannot check out books at our favorite library because they are TOWN SNOBS!

I wrote a letter to the mayor, but he forwarded it on to the head librarian... the woman who basically kicked me out of the library with my 4 children in tow because I was not "whispering" my protest. Oh, and my cell phone rang while I was standing at the circulation desk (you know the circulation desk, the desk that only the librarian is allowed to cross or the penalty is death) and she looked down her nose at me and pointed to the sign taped on the circulation desk with no more than 2 lbs. of scotch tape that read "No Cell Phone Usage." So then I started protesting that because it could be my husband and he is a very very VERY important person... so important that he pays the taxes on the house that we OWN in the town that this library is in that we are not allowed to use because the librarian must not like blond women with 4 children.

I finally gave up and left because I was well into a hot flash/deep sweat and if I stayed any longer I would end up being arrested for strangling the town librarian.

OH-and before I forget... do not go shopping with your 13 year old while you are PMSing because chances are, she is PMSing at the same time and the police officer that pulls your van over as your race out of the mall parking lot will not understand your plight as a mother who is on the verge of a melt down because not only did she just spend 2 hours of hell with her daughter but she gets to go home to a husband who will look at her and say "What is wrong with you? Did you do a load of darks today? I have no boxer shorts clean. Do you wanna have sex tonight?"

It is a cruel cruel world.

Talk About Job Risks...

OK, before you all start to panic... me posting videos will not become a habit. I realize I posted one yesterday-but that was invaluable information, that is unless you are my Cousin Steve and have a wife who picks up after you every mother loving day of your life, or if you are Patrick a.k.a. stupidfathobit and you just eat the entire bag of chips-which I have done on more than one occasion, but I would not recommend that to my dear readers. You should be able to eat the entire bag of chips if you live in Great Britain and eat only Salt and Vinegar chips (because those are so good you can't stop yourself) or if you are my mother (because she will smack you and tell you to "mind your own damn business" if you try and tell her to just have a "few" chips).

Anyway, my sister Claire sent me this video the other day. Do not view it if you are weak of stomach, or if you have a low tolerance for stupidity. I have to post it as a precursor to my post that I will be doing tomorrow about the local Librarian in our town and the fight I "almost" got into with her yesterday. Librarians are mean.

Anyway... LOOK AWAY! DO NOT VIEW THIS VIDEO! YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO STOP YOURSELF FROM GASPING IN HORROR AND UPCHUCKING YOUR LUNCH!

Don't Thank Me, Thank Aunt Barb...

Loads of stuff going on here... sooo much to write about, but I just don't have time!!!! I did want to leave you with this little video that my Aunt Barb sent me. Aunt Barb is a prize winning fruit salad maker and her banana bread recipe has to be copied in gold print it is so good. She also calls my mother on every holiday to simply say "My turkey carcass is clean and the dishes are all put away! I win!" So you know this tip comes from a true "June" at heart.

Thanks Aunt Barb~