In which I play plagued to save Christmas.

Today I join the ranks of cut-throat deal shoppers. The annual Warehouse toy sale is today. This means ridiculously cheap brand name toys and 23847293487293423428792873 shrewd and heartless Moms & Grammies.

Normally, I hate shopping (and don't get me wrong, I still hate shopping), however..... for the past few years, I've managed to get allllll the Christmas gifts for the kids for under $300. Thus, I have to do it. Biting this bullet ensures that I will not have to step foot in even one mall in December and THAT is a beautiful thing. This toy sale is brutes, though. SOMANYPEOPLE. You have to have a contingency plan, I've found. The year before last, waiting in the 3 hour line was like playing survivor. You have to choose the correct line & form alliances with other people so that you can go to the bathroom sometimes and be willing to step over people who have died, or you will never get out. The more friends you make in line, the faster you get to the cashier. You divide and conquer. I have a new strategy. I am ready.

I've put on my protective gear, practiced my contagious sounding cough and painted red around my eyes.. because nothing makes people back the #$%& off like a really contagious looking sale-crazed woman. "Um.. maybe we should come back later.." they'll say as I am writhing & drooling alkaseltzer bubbles from my mouth in front of the 2010 Holiday Barbies. What this conveys is, "Back off people, I'm going to be first in line here. If you want one of these Barbies, you'll have to go to your car and get your hand sanitizer first", leaving me a large enough window of time to get in, get my shiz and get. out. Or maybe they'll call the police. Who knows? You have to take risks if you want your holiday season to be truly wonderful. I need to find some way to spurt fake blood around.

K, gotta go do my warm ups.

____________________

UPDATE:

Left to Right.

Baboon, Baboonpossumrat, smoking baboon, marker, foot

Ultimate Fitness.

To hell with bootcamp and 'actual', 'balanced' workouts, try doing 300 rockette style can-can kicks in your living room. I thought this would a pretty easy challenge (Yes. I thought of the challenge myself. How could you tell that I didn't get it out of some kind of thick, fancy fitness book?). Well, it turns out that I can do 50 pretty seamlessly, then I have to go get a popsicle and drop onto the floor, heaving with drooly foam lathering and bubbling in the corners of my mouth and down my neck (What I mean by "I can do 50 pretty seamlessly" is that by kick number 30, my leg starts going perceptibly lower and I have to stop myself from bending forward to do full body, toddler-style soccer kicks). That's not good, right? I'm pretty sure that the key to ultimate fitness is to be able to do 300 of them without stopping.

Everyone needs to have goals. I like to do this with my living room curtains wide open in my fleecey Walmart lip-print pajamas so that I can really impress my neighbors. "This is a great neighborhood", they'll say to one another.

You know and I know that you're going to try it. I foresee a new olympic eveeeEeent!

Today is the DaaAAaaaaY

Inglourious Basterds is going to be on Pay-per-view as of today!

I never did get to see it in the theatre and I have been pacing around, mumbling to myself and worrying ever since. Now, I've built it all up in my head and might have impossible expectations. I must ready myself. I must make haste. I must prepare the snacks, because come 8:35ish o'clock tonight, I will be gussying myself up with lipstick and an assortment of other beauty accoutrements, then plunking myself down in front of the tube and fixing my eyeballs upon the screen, perhaps weeping a little in anticipation. I will gently dab away the tears, reattach my false eyelashes, bat them a few times and breathe a sigh of relief.

So if any of you ruin it for me, I will be a troll on your blog forever. Don't tell me anything except that you LOVED it so much. I don't care if you're a liar. Lie to me. Don't try and sound smart, unless you're telling me how awesome the movie is without giving me a single hint or detail or bit of information to be 'ready for' or any such other clue. I don't want to be ready for a great twist, I don't want to know that it's kinda gory... etc etc. I want to find these things out on my own. I can totally take it. I don't want to know what your favourite bit was. So stop crawling all over me, trying to give away all the best parts already. Get ahold of yourself, don't be that person who can't stand it if they don't get to tell you that they KNOW about the exciting twist and have to tell you it's there - but they'll "NEEEEEVER tell you what is IIiIIIiiIIiiiIIsSSssSS!" as they froth and spit all over themselves with the excitement of knowing there is a twist. Then I sit there and guess at what the twist will be the whole time and I'm usually right. Just keep your composure, please.

I will decide later if I'm going to buy it (I am, I can just tell that I am). I am curious to find out if it's as awesome as Zombieland, which is one of the new greatest movies of all time. Imagine if they combined the two and then made them 3D... whoa. I could totally be a movie mixer for my new big timey job. For example:

Gone with the Wind + A fish called Wanda= The Wind smells like Fish....or The Wind called Wanda is Gone with the Fish, Wanda called the fish then wind blew her skirt over her head? The fish has Wind? All great title ideas. Hellooo! John Cleese would make a far superior Rhett Butler. You know it, I know it. Clark Gable is up in heaven smacking his head as he reads this blog and realizes it. Even now, he might be asking God to go back in time, make the movie in the 70s instead and give the job to Cleese. I know I am. Jamie Lee Curtis could totally pull off Mammy. Kevin Kline could be Ashley. Oh Ashley! Vivien Leigh could stay Scarlett... even though she died in 1967. They can do amazing things with animatronics these days.

That right there is enough to put on my curriculum vitae. The bigwig CEOS will probably want to make me the head of the career department at the working place. I'll tell them that I need time to think it over because commuting to a job isn't really what I had in mind, unless they want to put a helicopter pad on my roof. Then I'll finally have that Michellicopter I've always dreamed of, with a banner that reads, wheeeeeeee (and never gets caught in the propeller).

Also, I got a new coffee maker.

In which we are carjacked by elk, boar, deer, wolves and goats.

Let's go on a nature hike/drive, shall we? It's a Canadian Safari park! Hurruh!

This is the rare and beautiful slack jawed zombie deer.

This is a Tibetan Crowbar Goat, used in ancient times for jacking up cars so that the tires could be more easily stolen, prized for their mobility.

Showoff + wolf= showolf.

Some people were sitting really nicely, quietly doing up their lipstick while we were distracted by the pretty beasties.

Hurry Libby! Do up the window! We'll catch his lips and Eleanore can do his lipstick too!

Little Miss Bison here got a little too friendly with my Neily... I got out and punched her in the kneecaps. You leave my man alone. I saw this same Hussy buying all of the M&Ms and tube tops in Walmart last week.

Another one?? I TOLD Neil not to wear musk today. It sets a poor example for the children.

Gangster roadblock. It was ascary.

AwWWwwWWwww. Nature is just beautiful.

"You give me that camera and any cash or apples you got or I will shove these 5 point antlers right down your throat"

Dammit, Neil.

Holy Smokes. Sock beast redux.

His name is Gossamer. He's the Streetster bunny-Get it? *laughing ensues* He's the Smoking Bun *people are doubling over from that hilarious joke of mine* Perfect for that new baby. He is made of a brand new sock and his cigarette is organic & cushy soft with no small parts, no choking hazard here, it would make a perfect gift for that new little bundle of joy.

I know, I know.... Hell.
Sewing is soothing & fun, though.

Just in case you want to die of awesome, do this:

Make this violently chocolate pudding/cake/mess. It's like chocolate volcano. The cake part rises up out of the thick pudding-saucy stuff like magic.

Looks hideous, yes?

Heat your oven to 350 degrees.

Combine these things in a bowl:
1 cup flour
2 tsp baking powder
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbsp cocoa (dark dutch process cocoa if you have it, otherwise regular baking cocoa is fine, but definitely not AS awesome)
1/2 cup of milk with 2 tbsp butter or margerine melted into it. Use butter. Just do it.

Mix it until it's a sticky glob and spread it into a greased 8x8 pan

THEN combine in a diffent bowl:
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup cocoa (again, use dutch process cocoa if at all possible for maximum chocolate mind blowing)

Sprinkle it on top of the other mixture. Just sprinkle it, don't mix it in.

THEN pour 2 cups of boiling hot water over the whole thing, don't mix anything, and stuff it in the oven for 35 minutes. Serve immediately with some kind of ice cream or whipped cream or just milk poured on it. Die of awesome. It contains about 39872342385656622019283 calories per serving.

It crawled from the dark, hidden depths of the the dryer..

Back from where the stray socks wander astray, starry eyed- looking for a new beginning, they emerge as MonStErs, forever changed, tired of being walked all over! They scramble out from your drawers, hungry and hunting for human feet...

Alright. Maybe I was drinking and sewing, mumbling and laughing to myself like a drunken, twisted homemaking sock fiend.

People of Walmart- Living the Dream.

Neil and I were invited to a very ostentatious dinner party tonight. It was wonderful that there was a 'scary' dress code, because it gave us an opportunity to fulfill our dream of being real. live. Walmart people. Nothing is scarier. Nothing.

I know. It is such a convincing belly; and pretty flattering.

Just like in High School.

Isn't he HANDSOME? He even cut his own hair for the occasion. *swoon* THAT is dedication.

Yep. Alert Readers, you've probably noticed that those ARE the mudflap girl pants I bought for him for Christmas three years ago. I'm just so glad they can be put to such rigorous, good use.

We were thrilled that the dessert platter of Joe Louis cakes & twinkies were so well received at the party. For real. Everyone secretly loves twinkies. The pork rinds, though... I couldn't bear to let anyone actually eat them... ewww.

Also, I want everyone to note how artfully Minnie Mouse's fingers are caressing my fake belly button. Gross eh? It's perfect.

Swanky, huh?

My brain is a dried up little craisin. Not even zombies would want it in their cinnamon buns.

Alright, Nerdsquad. It's 12:33 am and I have been pretty much transferring files (long overdue) from my old crapattack, dell, missing-the-letter-k laptop to my glorious, new-ish (November=new, right? it totes does. That's right I said totes because I am delirious) macbook FOREVER. If you're on my twitter or FB, you've been skipping over my complain-y updates for hours. and. hours.

I've found that the most effective way to avoid the bajillion glitches in my dell is to use bluetooth to move files. OMG slow. So here is some rambly crap for you to read and enjoy while I watch the progress bar until I am hypnotized and strangle something inanimate. Like that cat over there.

1. Teenagers speak aloud to each other in text. IN TEXT. They SAY "smiley face" and they SAY, "Awww Frowny". Just when I thought emo pants were the most obnoxious things ever, this surfaces. The fact that I say, "Oh Em Gee" occasionally, weighs very lightly on this, though Geeks. For rlz. I stole it from another adult who happens to be totally awesome. Totes. This is what is happening to our youth. We're pretty much screwed when we get really old, eh?

2. The farmer in my Dell

The farmer in my Dell

High Ho Ontario

The farmer in my Dell has been sucking the life out of me all day and I need to step away, but if I do, I might never take the files off of it and I hate the people at the Net Nanny place because they make my life that much more difficult and they lie to me and say it will be easy to format the computer so that it is safe for a pre teen to use it without accidentally exposing his eyes to the unsavory internets- but it's not easy at allllllll, it's a pain in the arse and I need to sleeeeeeeeeep but I'm stupid and promised I'd do thiiiiIIIIiiiiiissssssssss killlll meeeeeeeeee.... (but don't really kill me, internet weirdos, spare me because look how dedicated to stuff I am. You don't find that every day.)

3. So on my old computer were all the old lame-o youtube vidlogs I used to do. That was a stroll down memory lane/back into cabin fever. Wild. Maybe I'll post a montage of them set to some peppy and then very sad early 90s pop music. Maybe I won't.

4. Maybe instead I'll have an oreo straw. I thought plain old oreos and beer were glorious but now you can drink your beer THROUGH an oreo. A straw made of oreos for beer. Think about that awesomeness. I mean really sit down and think about it.

5. I have to stop. This blog is whacktarded.

6. I wish I was at the waterslides right this second.

Hungry, Apathetic Space Dragons.

So here is a little 4x4 inch painting that I did today, based on a doodle that I draw all of the time, have for years. The dragons are usually eating a series of things, depending on what I'm talking about on the phone while I draw them. Sometimes a blimp, sometimes people's heads, sometimes a giant mole, sometimes the earth etc etc.... today it's a spaceship... because that iswhat is awesome to me today.

Maybe I'll paint all of them. Maybe I'll make a series based on all of my tabletop doodlies. Maybe even the elephant with self image issues.... hmm.... I'm pretty sure this whole gig will make me ultra rich- or if anything, my kid likes them. I'll hang them in his room. :)

Facilitating your weight gain.

You're welcome. So I snagged this recipe for 5 minute chocolate cake. Made in a cup... for one person. It's like some sort of... cup... or... mugcake™.

I thought, "Eh, what the hell. Worst case scenario, it'll be a star in my ugly bread category if it's horrible and grotesque.", then I thought about how fun it was at the grocery store when I'd hauled my kids in, grocery shopped, got to the check out and realized I had no wallet and had to go home to get it. Then I thought about the bird crap on my vehicle. Then I remembered that funny .gif of David Hasselhoff's hypnotic speedo. Then I remembered about the cake.

(Try and move past this hypnotic animation and finish reading my blog entry. Also, if you happen to be hypnotized now, vote for me- and send money.)

"Okay, Self, lets make this sucker." I said out loud.

So I did... say it... and make it. And it was awesome. More plum puddingy textured but extra chocolate-induced coma-ish and less disgustinger than plum pudding (more delicious is what I'm saying). I suggest using some white chocolate chips for extra fanciness.

So the bottom line is that this recipe is evil and of the devil because any idiot (read: idiot=me) can make it- and make it often.

So here's the recipe:

Chocolate mugcake for lazy people who want good cake right the &%$# now:

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa

1 egg

3 tablespoons milk

3 tablespoons oil

3 tablespoons chocolate chips

a small splash of vanilla extract

1 large coffee mug

Add dry ingredients to a big microwave safe (that's advice for you extra idiotic idiots) mug. Mix the crap out of them with a fork. Pour in the rest of the stuff and mix mix mix, making sure you get all the dry ingredients mixed out of the bottom. Add vanilla and mix some more.

Stick it in the microwave and cook it on high for 3 minutes. Watch it with glee as the cake rises over the top of the cup. Worry and fret that it's going to boil all over, then squeal with delight when it doesn't, it just poufs all up like a soufflé. Feel disappointed when the steam escapes at the end of cooking time and the cake deflates a little. Dump it on a plate if you're feeling fancy. Observe that many of the chocolate chips migrated toward the bottom and take note so that if you ever have to share it in the future, you can ensure that you get the bottom part. Put ice cream on it. Eat it. Repeat it.

I covet Dale's ricotta, okay?

I was going to take my camera to boot camp today, but at 5:30 am, I am satisfied that I even remembered to wear pants (this time). Not that anyone else there would notice. Most people arrive blinking with their hair still mashed to one side of their heads and really, the only thing anyone can focus on is Instructor Dale's breakfast smoothie. "What's in the smoothie, Dale?" 8 or 11 women ask, eyeballing it the way a bunch of out of shape Eves in the Garden of Eden would eyeball the forbidden fruit of knowledge- and Dale is the snake/devil tempting everyone. "Field berries and ricotta." Says Dale/Satan. "Ricotta, huh?" The women ask. "Yeah *smirk*. It's a long story."

I'll bet it is. I bet it's a very long, intriguing story about berries & lasagna cheese all blended together that we would all laugh heartily at and feel enlightened about thereafter. "Ohhhh..... I seeeee." We'd all say while nodding thoughtfully after Dale related the long, complicated story to us. Then we'd make mental notes to purchase ricotta and field berries (I also think that a couple/few ounces of Jamaican rum would be nice in it) for the next boot camp class.

The point is that I don't really care WHY there is ricotta in it (even though it's the cheese intended for lasagna). I would personally like to just steal Dale/The Devil's smoothie, sneak out to the hall and give it a try, but I just know there are stool-pigeons in that class. (They're the perky ones who already know why someone would put ricotta in their smoothie and also feel smug about this knowledge) I'd get busted and then what? Everyone would be watching me like vultures and I'd be looking behind my back for the rest of the boot camp sessions- possibly forever. They might even give me a nickname like- 'The Bootcamp Breakfast Bandito' or 'That crazy freak at bootcamp' or 'Shirley' (because why not?). Well I don't want to get caught up in that kind of criminal lifestyle anyway. My family is just too important to me.

All I know is that it sits on the counter and everyone's head does a wide eyed, owl-esque 180 as they run past it. Who's gonna be the first to steal the forbidden fruit? Huh? WHO?

Who? Who? WHO?

Lemons. Gams. Lying to people. Stuff like that.

It's almost time for boot camp again, y'all. I never say y'all. Why did I type that? Oh well. No going back now. So I get to go back to the gym 3 times a week for 6:00am sharp starting on Monday to be brutalized with a pilates ball & kettle bells by Dale. Well his name's Andrew, but I prefer to degrade him by calling him Dale. Think of how tough I am, y'all. Not really, although I do have some power in my gams. You just can't tell unless I'm kicking you in the throat.

So ya. I'm pretty stoked about that.

Anyhow, here is the deal. I didn't start running, okay? Instead, I wrote lots of blogs and learned how to use twitter. I was supposed to really get down to business with becoming a runner last week but I crapped out bigtime. TV was pretty mediocre, so I watched a lot of that. Even though survivor wasn't on... or was it? Who can tell anymore? I spent my month off of boot camp reading running magazines & websites, internet shoe shopping, deciding if I should buy some lululemon pants so that I can at least FOOL everyone into thinking that I've been running. Y'know... throw on some blush and strategically spray water at the back of my shirt & arm pits, then pant and buy vitamin water while pretending not to hear anyone because my ipod is turned up pretty loud. "WHAT? THAT'S AN AWFUL LOT OF MONEY FOR STUPID VITAMIN WATER THAT ISN'T EVEN GOOD FOR YOU ACCORDING TO SEVERAL REPUTABLE STUDIES. SCREW THAT, I'LL QUENCH MYSELF WITH SWEAT BECAUSE I'M PRETTY HARDCORE AS YOU MAY BE ABLE TO SEE.."is what I'd say over my motivational running music, then throw the bottle at Bill who works around the corner at the Quikee Mart. But the joke is on them because I'd only have Neil's ipod headphones and no ipod at ALL. (Because I don't even have an ipod.. poor me, eh?) Then I'd say something like, "Gotta JET" and then bound around the corner to my car and go to Chapters for a pumpkin latte and some cookies. So I didn't get the pants.

The other option is to get some pants at Costco and tell everyone they're lululemon. As if they'd even know. I'm a pretty crafty person.

Did I even tell you guys how I KNOW about lululemon? WELL. I was on this airplane once, and strangers tend to feel like they should drop their entire sordid pasts on me during flights. I have that trustworthy face or something... or I always get stuck with the senile, talkative folks... or it could be all the torturing supplies that I bring with me on flights. Anyhow, I was sitting next to this 80something year old woman who told me her entire life history, including how she took a bus to Tijuana with some of her girlfriends when she was younger. Anyhow, they stayed drunk pretty much the whole time and she ran away with the bus driver who was her best friend's boyfriend. SO I told her how I kinda like Abba and that I was wearing men's underpants. Then she told me that I would LOVE Lululemon and I was all... "Hmmm..... she sounds like she knows what she's talking about". But I never did check it out or go in the store. I just noticed that other people are all about this stuff and kinda feel a little inadequate sometimes for not having any lululemon of my very own. But then my anarchist side kicks in and says, "FIGHT THE POWER" and I wouldn't be seen dead in it.

I'm going to write luluLIME on my Costco pants with a bleach pen now. I'm so punk, man.

Six things

1. The Gods must be crazy was just as awesome as I'd remembered.  What I didn't remember is that that the voices were dubbed.  Rawk.
2. I want peanut butter pie more than anything on Earth.  Stupid fattening peanut butter pie.  Jerks.  Why can't I want egg whites.. or cabbage?  HUH?  Jerks.
3. I was sick yesterday.  Not very fun.
4. Kid 1 is sick today now.  He tried to fake not sick for the first time ever.  WTF?   OOoooOOooh swimming lessons day.  Poor guy.
5. I smell a little pink skunk toddling around.  
6. I want an Academy Award.  

Pantyhose & creole succotash.

So, a touch of drama hit my life for a while there, Nerdherd. I won't elaborate but you'll be pleased to know that I've tucked it all away neatly again like a canned spring snake & it's now safely hidden amongst my campbell's soup and tinned corn niblits with all of the labels peeled off for the next time.

I am entertaining some pretty fancy company tonight. I'm making rum ribs & succotash. Need dessert idears, though.... Something with chocolate and preferably heavy cream & maybe lard. Y'know, something I could bread, deep fry and dump whipped cream, cookie dough & booze onto. Maybe crumble some chips on there as well for decoration.

Speaking of decorations, I'm off to work on my pantyhose-squirrel table centerpiece. Gotta give the glue on those googly eyes time to dry. Don't want a pantyhose squirrel's googly eye falling in anyone's baby duck at dinner.

Just take a gander at this book, fans! Why just look at the cover! WHAT A GOLDMINE OF IDEAS!! A pantyhose quilt??!! Pantyhose with metal circles in them hanging from the window as curtains???!! A pantyhose Duggar Family??!!? SIGN ME THE %$#@ UP!

I pledge my allegiance to Dale

I just want you all to know that I have not crapped out on boot camp. I am still going. Sure, I'm delirious by the end of the workout, and I seem to be the only one who thinks that I'm intensely funny... but I'm there, dammit. And what do they expect me to say if they're going to play dance-country music at 6 am while asking me to do 'the dirty dog'? Am I not supposed to heckle that?? How can that even be ignored? It's scientifically impossible for me. How can I not spell dyslexic swear words in the air with my weights instead of the alphabet? How?

I dunno, maybe I should stop putting rum in my breakfast smoothies.


I've noticed that the class size has diminished by appx half, too. Wieners.

Our outing in the pretty city.

We went to the orchestra today!

Now we're going to relax and play some Rayman Raving Rabbid TV Party.