FRIDAY MUD GIVEAWAY

This box contains all the time in the world and most people are amazed it fits into such a small place.

In honor of a Keeeee-raaaaaaaazy Week... it is the Friday Giveaway. This is a little handpainted jewelry box about 4 inches across and two inches high. The sides are decorated with clocks and globes. Brought to you by OUR NAME IS MUD.

Special Rules for Today's Contest:

*ONE ENTRY PER PERSON only please.
*In the comments section; guess what it says INSIDE this box.

The answer revealed and the winner announced at some point on Monday, November 3rd. Happy Friday people!

Last Halloween Post (Australia is cheering right now)

Sexyhusbandomine and I met in March a GAZILLION years ago. That year, for Halloween, here was his costume:

And let me just say girls, that I had my pie with sausage that night.

The next year, we were still a relatively new couple--so we did the "cute couple" costume


Followed by MORE cute couple costumes


Until we got married, at which point cute couples costumes ceased to revolve around sexual innuendo and became indicators of our domestic bliss:


Then we got pregnant and our respective costumes were

AND


And when I got pregnant again, we went as this


ELEVEN YEARS of marriage later...
And my pizza delivery boy with the six pack abs is going as this:

O the times, they are a changin.......

Whooooo are You?

At Chez Veasey when it rains it's a tsunami. This week The Banana has the flu, Jesse has changed his halloween costume design for the third time, and I have five major deadlines at work. And the Phillies are in some kind of special ball game, so we know where Sexyhusbandomine's head is at...Not to mention the new philanthropy projects I have taken on and my recent decision to join with other bloggesses to write a book. Did I mention I was still working on solving world hunger and contemplating adopting five other children from different parts of the world?

I am definitely juggling like most moms; but this week I seem to be doing it with bowling balls and machetes. So please bare with me, dear cyber friends, as this blog may not be updated much this week. (WHAT AM I SAYING? Of course I'm going to update. I do my best blog work when I am absolutely supposed to be doing something else. Like Work. Or Paying Attention to my Children. )

ANYWHOOOOO......

I am late announcing the winners for last Friday's owl give-away but here they are. With a catch dearhearts. This contest was all about FOLLOWING. And a TRUE follower will read this post and contact me at LVMud@aol.com to claim their prize. A FAIR WEATHER FOLLOWER would have just signed on for the giveaways but not commit to reading my drivel. So consider this your notification. If I don't hear from you by Friday, your owl goes to the next person.

(Gosh that sounded harsh, I'm sorry. The barimentric pressure messes with my head AND YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT IT DOES TO MY HAIR.)

OWL WINNERS:
Rachel www.allthewayfrombloggycreek.blogspot.com
Racie Lover www.waitwaittheresmore.blogspot.com
TJ www.whatdoestjstandfor.blogspot.com
Tracy www.paradisemom.blogspot.com

Congratulations! remember: next giveaway is Friday. It's All About Winning Stuff.

JenX & Racie Lover Contests

This is a great shirt created by Le at www.thirdontheright.blogspot.com that is part of a great giveaway at www.jenx67.com where all you have to do is enter an 80s music memory to get a chance to win one of two of these fabulous shirts. I love these blogger ts, and my children do too: their shirts say: Nothing Mommy Writes about Me on her Blog is True.

Racie Lover is ALSo running a great giveaway on her blog www.waitwaittheresmore.blogspot.com but my browser is currently not speaking to her browser, so i cannot capture a picture of her prizes: but they are AWESOME.

Hope you will enter both contests this weekend.

Friday's GIVE AWAY

I know-I know-- it seems like just this week were giving away dracula garlic jars and wicked mugs...wait: we were! But as promised- there will be a MUD giveaway EVERY Friday through December until your cabinets are bulging with pottery and you beg me to stop. This week we have 4 little owls to give away to 4 Followers. That's right people; winners will not be selected from comments this week--all Followers of this blog will be automatically entered-winner announced Sunday night. Because you should be rewarded for drinking the koolaid. And because I heart you internet friends, I really do.

Snippets

THREE THINGS SAID BY COMPLICATEDBOY THIS MORNING:

I had a dream last night: I don't remember much of it, but I know Adam West was singing in it.

You can't really tell me what to do Mom, I am not really your son. I was left on your doorstep by a Wizard.

The reason it takes me so long in the bathroom in the morning is that I am checking all the drains for snakes.

An EVEN BETTER Story

The following blog entry comes straight from www.missthystle.com , who wins this month's BEST FREEKING BLOG POST EVER award-which is an award I will be bestowing on blogs who take a subject I write about and DO IT WAY BETTER THAN ME. And this is not one of those 2D photoshop created awards: this is an ACTUAL TROPHY which I will send to winners so that they can display it proudly next to their other awards such as Mother of The Year or Mary Kaye Salesperson Extraordinaire. You can nominate yourself or anyone else at any time--just remember that the post has to relate to a subject blogged here first.

Okay, so for the record I AM WARNING YOU RIGHT NOW. You do not want to read this story. For reals. You should leave. Like now.

Are you still there? OMG. You people never, ever listen.

M, despite being an avid bird hunter, is wildly in love with every animal ever. If there is an animal, she wants it. I am asked daily for things like kittens, birds, fish, monkeys, lemurs, puppies, hippo's, sea lions and all manner of things that are either cute, fuzzy, cuddly, smooshy or all of the above.

My husband, having had caged pets like mice and guinea pigs growing up thought it would be a good idea to get her a hamster. I, for the record, do NOT love anything that lives in a cage. I put my foot down. They stopped on their way to PetCo and came home with a fuzzy yellow rodent called "Carl".

Carl was a boring ass animal. He lived in his cage. He ran in his wheel, he shoved shavings everywhere and peed on you if you picked him up. Much like many of the dates I went on in college, he smelled perpetually of feet.

But M loved that little guy. She kept him in her room and told him stories and staged plays wherein he married Beanie Babies and even gave him a theme song (inexplicably "Mambo number 5"). It was frickin' adorable.

The problem was the dogs. Our lab, Buddy, excelled at opening doors. Locked doors. Doors both locked and held shut with a hook and eye. And Buddy, well, he wasn't smart. But he was affectionate. He loved everything but cats with an all consuming passion that resulted in everything he touched being "loved" to literal pieces.

Do you see where this is going? You should leave now.

WHY ARE YOU STILL THERE?

Fine.

So, while we were at work one day, Buddy broke into M's room and "freed" Carl. You know, to play with him.

Days and days passed and we were examining piles of poop for Carlness, when lo and behold the little fuzzy bastard wandered out from under the t.v. credenza, missing a few toe nails but otherwise unscathed.

The bedroom door was give additional fortification, was always locked and Carls cage moved to a shelf about 5' high.

Which worked. For about a day.

And then, Carl was missing again. The cage looked like a hamstercide had occurred and M was inconsolable.

But, sure enough, two weeks later, there was Carl; alive, though barely.

Only, this time, well, lets just say, 6oz hamsters are not good playmates for 80lb labs. Like at all.

Before M could see poor little Carl I snatched him up and wrapped him in tissue. But six year olds? They're smart. She knew exactly who I was trying to spirit away in a Kleenex shroud and demanded to see him. Figuring it would be a good time to explain the Circle of Life, and since Carls head wasn't really too mangled, I decided to let her say goodbye and uncovered his head.

Reaching out her wee little finger she lovingly stroked his head and whispered goodbye.

Then, he tried to bite her.

She shrieked like a mad woman, "Oh, MAMA! He's alive! We must take him to the vet! We simply MUST!"

Uh. No. No way am I spending $85 for a $6 hamster to be put to sleep.

So I told her, no. Carl was in pain, but Mommy would give him a shot herself. That way he could go to heaven from his very own home.

This seemed reasonable and she flung herself to the floor sobbing as I carried the wretched little mite away. To the garage. Where I gave him a shot. With a...well, let's keep this PG-ish and say that it was quick and painless and the only option.

For a moment I felt very Laura Ingalls Wilder in my practicle farm girl resolution to the situation. Then, of course, I thought; WHAT THE F@!K? Why the hell do I have a husband if I'm left to do things like hit hamsters with hammers? Oh. Wait. I wasn't going to say that part. I did warn you to leave though. And it's not like I LIKED doing it. Or even had a choice. The poor little smudge will probably greet me in Heaven with a big sign (well big for a hamster, so like 1"x3" and attached to a toothpick) that says "THANKS FOR PUTTING ME OUT OF MY MISERY".

Then, of course, there I am standing in the garage with a recently euthanized hamster wondering what the hell one does with a dead hamster? It's not like Chipper the fish, or Jimbo the fish or any of the other fishies that found their final rest in the municipal sewer system.

Back in the living room, contemplating what to do with the victim I go to find M, holding a tea-light box coffin lined with scrap of satin and a cotton ball for a pillow. Her grief apparently overcome with arts and crafts.

"Let's have a funnel" she says.

"A funeral? For Carl?" I ask, and she nods, all big eyes and barely contained excitement. I agree and perform my duties as funeral director while she summons the neighborhood kids. ALL OF THEM. I swear to God there were 15 kids in my yard. You'd have thought I was giving away ice cream covered bicycles or something.

Solemnly, yet gleeful at the spectacle, they lowered the casket into the earth, covered it with dirt and placed a headstone over it. It read "Carl. Wus a gud hamper". When the eulogy was over and each child (many of whom I'd never even seen before) said a nice little bit about Carl's wonderful hamster contributions to the world, they demanded snacks.

Because children are macabre little beasts with no souls and never ending stomachs.

But they're resiliant, and that's something to be grateful for.

OR SO SAYS MISS THYSTLE

THe WiNNeRs: STRaNGeRS WiTH CaNDY

FIRST OF ALL: Can I just say hurray for me for inventing a NEW FORM OF TORTURE? Seriously; trying so hard to stay on my Jenny Craig program while every fifteen minutes an email comes to me that suggests a different type of chocolate or sweet is a bit like bringing a six pack to the intervention, no? THANK YOU to all of you who entered, and especially those of you who linked to this site and brought so many new kids to the block. In honor of my deep and passionate love for my Google Analytics Page, I will be holding a giveaway EVERY FRIDAY between now and January 1st. So don't be a stranger.

SECONDLY: The film below is kind of my ISHTAR of blog films; no offense to sexyhusbandomine who did his best job to edit out the nose picking, time out, and sibling brawl that occured during shooting (BUT NO HAMSTERS WERE HARMED IN THE FILMING OF THIS VIDEO.) And yes, I am gonna make you watch it anyway because it's short. Winners please email me with your address!




OK. OK. Apparently the video won't play for some of you: which is a shame because I love the way Cboy pronounces caramels as cramels. The winners are: BEEB and MILLIE who like herseheys chocolates with almonds and cramels.

Alternative to Muskrat Love

Not every weekend in The Big Apple involves carriage rides around the park or a trip to the museum. Sometimes it's about finding the easiest way to fill the time between Breakfast and Cocktail Hour...you know... that long stretch of about Four Hours. This explains why, instead of schlepping The Spawn to The Bronx Zoo this weekend-we decided to spend two hours in PetCo. It is a veritable Animal Kingdom there-a great place to see kittens, birds, fish and of course....HAMSTERS.

In the eighties, I made the mistake of getting two hamsters for my Kindergarten classroom. We came in to class one morning to a litter of tiny, pink, hairless babies. That same day, while the children were at recess, the Daddy Hamster beheaded and devoured the entire brood. Try explaining that to twenty innocent five year olds. The Fathers were unusually cold to me that year during Parent Teacher conferences.

Last year, CBoy's teacher asked for a dwarf hamster, which we volunteered to provide. PetCo was all out of the tiny hamsters the day we went--so we decided to buy a Big Ass Hamster instead. This did not thrill Ms. Mathews, who had wanted a hamster of the dwarf variety because their temperament is known to be gentle and friendly, whereas Big Ass Hamsters can sometimes be aggressive. She expressed her trepidation as the children gathered around the glass aquarium, pushing each other and craning their necks to get a view of the new pet in their classroom. In an attempt to allay her fears, I confidently lifted the screen top of the cage and reached down to stroke the creature.

"See?" I said, running my finger over his furry back, "He's as gentle as can be."

And at that moment, Big Ass Hamster turned and bit my index finger DOWN TO THE BONE and blood splattered and splurted against the glass in the aquarium and I began to shake my hand violently to get the Big Ass Hamster to let go, and while the children screamed and blood flew everywhere I began to beat the Big Ass Hamster's head against the side of the cage to get it to release it's teeth from my finger.

When it finally let me go, it took an entire box of Sponge Bob Bandaids to contain the bleeding.

Spooky, as Big Ass Hamster came to be known, eventually outgrew his violent tendencies and settled down to classroom life-gorging himself on carrot and apple sticks and sleeping the day away. He came home with us over Christmas break, and when Sexyhusbandomine placed him in the plastic ball so he could run around, I swear I didn't kick it. Not. Even. Once.

I aM a WiNNeR!!

Lex from creativeconstipation.blogspot.com held an incredible giveaway for a Total Blog MakeOver and I WON!!! ( The layout you are looking at right now is Not that makeover--it's my pre-makeover "clean face." I miss the purple but...I am getting ready for my transformation.) Thanks for offering such a cool giveaway Lex !!!

HaLLoWeeN MuD GiVeAwAY

Growing up, my dog was blamed for a lot of things that happened in my house, in particular; Missing shoes, odiferous emissions, and disappearing candy. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I figured out my dad was actually the one responsible for Two out of Three of those things. His weakness: Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Every first November morning, our Halloween pillowcases would appear to have been rifled through, and nary an orange and brown wrapper was ever found. I don't know how he managed to convince us for so long that a Labrador Retriever could develop such a specific taste for a chocolate and peanut butter combo.

In honor of stolen Halloween candy-it's a Halloween Mud Giveaway. Here is the twist: if you win this giveaway you get TWO PRIZES so that YOU can offer a giveaway on your blog too!! In the comment section below, confess your sweetest temptation. What candy should you not ever be left alone in the house with? You can, of course, enter as many times as you wish.

You might win ONE of these wicked mugs:



AND ONE of these Dracula garlic Jars



And you get to keep whichever one you like and give the other away. Double your Pleasure Double Your Fun. Enter through midnight Tuesday October 21--winner announced Wednesday October 22.

The C Word

Wanna know what's REALLY scary about Halloween? Fifty Four days until CHRISTMAS. There, I said it.

The great joy I feel during the Holiday Season is tempered by the knowledge that this time of year divides people into Two Groups.

Those groups would be: People who love the movie It's A Wonderful Life, and People Who Don't.

(For you Capra Lovers, what I am about to say might be as blasphemous as comparing Rudolph to a juicy slab of venison. You might wanna just skip today's post and jump in on the comments on the Disco Bath post regarding Penis Puppetry. )

I HATE the movie It's a Wonderful Life. Which is why you can expect lots of blogs during December, because that is basically all they ever play on TV that month.

I know it is considered to be a heartwarming tale of sacrifice and redemption. A classic story about realizing what a difference one man can make in the lives of others. I know as the credits roll most of you feel warm and fuzzy.....whereas for me, when the bell finally rings I feel like I could come out of my corner swinging.

It Quite Simply.....PISSES ME OFF.

When George makes the STUPID, IDIOTIC mistake of entrusting drunk & loveable Uncle Billy with the Building & Loan's deposit, I cringe. Uncle Billy should have been fired months ago, and forced into rehab.

But it is the fact that Mr. Potter is able to steal that money AND GET AWAY WITH IT that just gets my knickers in a twist. Even the Grinch has to return what he took. It irks the heck out of me that that man is never punished on screen. I am sure there is a special place in Hell for the Mr. Potters of this world: but as a movie viewer, I need to see him burn.

Now, where did I put my pitchfork and torch?

Click here to watch a THIRTY SECOND version of Its A Wonderful Life re-enacted by Bunnies. (OK- copy and paste if a click doesn't work)
http://www.angryalien.com/1204/wonderful_lifebuns.asp

Disco Bath

We like to keep things interesting here at Chez Veasey. One of our favorite bathtime traditions involves glow sticks. Michaels sells a tube of fifteen for a buck. We like to fill our bath with bubbles and then add the whole tube of the neon colored variety. Then we turn down the lights and crank up the Bee Gees. Usually, The Spawn are Very Clean and Very Wrinkled when I remember to remove them from the bath.

We started this tradition when CBoy was two, using the larger and thicker green glow sticks. I left him alone for literally a nano-second (let's say; the time it takes to refill a glass) and returned to find he had bitten through one of them. Like a scene from The Toxic Avenger, he opened his mouth in a silent scream and it was filled with neon green nuclear-looking gloop.

Luckily I had poison control on speed dial. Turns out glow sticks are totally non-toxic. You could eat them... WHICH IS A GOOD THING; BECAUSE HE DID. His poop was the same shade as The Joker's hair for the next week.

Tonight, The Spawn are enjoying a disco bath when I hear the following SWEAR TO GAWD IT'S TRUE conversation:

CBOY: Oh look! If I put it behind my penis it makes it glow!!
BANANA: You can do so much stuff with your penis. I can't do anything with my vagina.

At which point Sexyhusbandomine looks over at me and suggests I give the children some regular bath toys.

COMMENTS MONDAY

Every Monday: No Post--Just Comments.

The Rain in Spain Stays Mailnly On The Plain.

In the early 90s my friends organized an intervention regarding my continued use of shoulder pads. I felt they made my bottom half look smaller; they convinced me that Chrystal Carrington had called and wanted her suits back.

Apparently a bit of the same thing is going on in regard to this Very Fine Blog Design here. As you know, rex at www.indeliblecreations.blogspot.com is running a giveaway for free blog design. Many of you awesomely supported my quest to win by leaving a comment on her site. But the capper is that she recently left a comment here saying that after she visited, she also hopes I win. And here's the thing: I AM UP AGAINST A BLOGGER WITH CANCER.

That's bad. That's "You're Out" spoken by a model with a German accent bad.

So fine. I am willing to change. Even if I don't win the free giveaway,I am willing to take some of what is currently under the mattress and redesign this blog. So channel your Jonathan Adler, your Ty Pennington, your Doctor 90210.

1. Shall I re-name this bog? We are thinking themudchick.com What are your thoughts?

2. What are some of your favorites in terms of blog design and why?

3. What else have you not told me you secretly don't like?

OK; so start the liposuction sucker tubes and lets get rolling. Please just make sure I can still move my forehead when you are done.

Bringing Spooky Back

One Halloween I had the PRETTIEST PRINCESS DRESS EVAH. There was a cold snap, and I still remember the crushing humiliation of having to wear my red puffy down filled coat over my costume.

ME: Trick or Treat!
PERSON HOLDING CANDY BOWL: Oh look! It's a....It's a.......Ummm...what are you?

It went on like this for a bit until finally I came up with the answer: "A TOMATO FAIRY" and it got me extra chocolate... and that, my friends, is when I decided WITTY BEATS PRETTY anyday.

In college, the trend in costumes was SEXY. My friends were Sexy witches, Sexy nurses, Sexy football players...there was not a costume existed that they couldn't shorten, rip, hoist and totally Slutify in some amazing way. As for me, Freshman and Sophomore years, I wore my old Burger King uniform.

(Why, yes, whilst in college I did work at that fine establishment.. I microwaved patties for about 6 months. I always hoped they would promote me to the register, but sadly it was not to be: I was fired for lack of burger wrapping skills. I could never figure out how to neatly fold that paper tissue so it wouldn't unwrap. I got into an argument with management about my suggestion for utilizing scotch tape in the process. It ended badly. I can't look at oragami to this day. But I digress...)

The point is: I found the wearing of a brown corduroy pantsuit (yes, that's what it used to be back in the day. With a spiffy plastic visor in coral) to be IRONIC. And MEN STILL DATED ME, just for the record. It's not like I was the ugly girl in the Burger King costume at the party--I was making out with total strangers Just Like Everyone Else. MAYBE EVEN MORE SO; when the guys realized the mileage they could get out of lines like " Do You Really Hold The Pickle?"

But Junior year, my roommate suggested lending me a killer harem girl costume that was basically a bra and a pair of silk Hammer-time pants. And the bra was totally Bedazzled so it was a Bra of 1000 Diamonds. It was like Super Sexy I Dream of Genie. I could not resist.

Later that night, when the temperature dipped below 40 and I had to walk a mile from the Pub back to my dorm, I longed for nothing more than the Halloween of my youth and my red puffy down filled coat. I still believe witty beats pretty, but more than that: Warmth beats Freezing Your Ass off anyday.

Next week: More About Comfortable Shoes.

Awesome giveaway

Great giveaway at creativeconstipation.blogspot.com

Please mention MOI in comments. Mama needs a new blog design. I'm thinking get rid of the purple, add some curtains...maybe a waterfall in the back: wadda ya think?

Gonna Dress You Up in My Love

When I was seven, my BFF and I decided to be a pair of dice for Halloween. Our crafty mothers got large cardboard boxes and cut armholes in them. They painted them white and glued black dots made from construction paper to each side.

Just before I left the house to join my friend, my mother suggested a last minute addition. Grabbing a large black marker from the kitchen junk drawer, she carefully drew two dots on my left cheek, six dots on my right, and :: on my chin.

Later, when my only wish was to slip into a candy induced coma, I went to wash the dots off my face. In her enthusiasm, my mother had used a large black PERMANENT Marks-Alot Marker--the kind you can smell two states away, that can successfully be used on 100 washes of laundry.

When she discovered the markings were impervious to her Ponds Cold Cream, she caressed my cheeks gently with a steel SOS brillo pad. I still went to school the next day wearing two black dots on my left cheek, six on my right and :: on my chin.

Luckily, I had a full supply of miniature Hershey bars to dull the pain.

This is not even my worst Halloween costume story. If my father were not a regular reader of this blog (Hi Dad) I would be tempted to write about the Halloween when I was 22, and new to the city, and dressed up as a lobster, and went to the wrong address for what I thought was a Halloween party. I didn't figure it out for awhile because all the people around me were dressed in leather. It was only after the third time someone called me Mistress Lobster that I discovered I was at a club called The Dungeon. And that's all I'm gonna say about that. (Hi again Dad.)

This year: ComplicatedBoy would like to be a robot. But not a cardboard box robot, or even a Johnny Five Robot. He wants a Terminator meets Justin Timberlake robot. He wants a silver suit, shirt and tie with just flashes of electronics showing through-I believe he suggested fiber optics. Most importantly--the costume requires A WORKING JET PACK. I'm thinking this year I will not be able to leave the whole thing to the tenth hour and then pull it out of my butt: the way I whipped a yard of faux fur into a teenage werewolf last year.

The Clinic: Not Just For Unwed Pregnant Teens

Went to the doctor today. The following are bits of ACTUAL DIALOGUE that occurred between myself and the Male Nurse.

NURSE: How are you today Mrs. Veasey?
ME: Fine thanks, how are you?
NURSE: You're lying like a rug, aren't you?
ME: Well, actually I have had a headache for FIFTEEN DAYS.
NURSE: I pity Mr. Veasey.
(Laughs through his nose at his own joke)
NURSE: On the scale of 1-10 and looking at this smiley face chart, what is your pain level?
ME: I would say right now, I am at about a 4.
NURSE: Here's a tip: if you bump it up to 8 the doc might give you Vicadin.

Winners

What Are You Wearing Right Now?

I know the majority of you like to slip into your peignoirs and fluffy bunny slippers when you sit down at your computers, but I'd like to suggest an alternative. The Lovely Le at www.thirdontheright.blogspot.com has an entire line of bloggingware. Above is the t she did for me-but I cannot take credit for the saying (which in case the picture posts very WEE here says: I BLOG BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING ON TV, I DRINK BECAUSE MY CHILDREN CRY) which is a quote from Zak at www.zakaryw.blogspot.com in a former giveaway contest that has always stuck with me--the way truth often will.

I got mine in raspberry.

PALIN / BIDEN DEBATE MUD GIVEAWAY

In honor of last night's Great Debate... ( which honestly, I didn't watch more than ten minutes of. I hate Horror Movies.) I offer this MUD GIVEAWAY. This fabulous set of mugs can be YOURS ( you can use the one that doesn't apply to your beliefs for guests) if you follow today's set of rules...which are all about being neighborly and maverickish. So while you may not be able to see Alaska from your back yard, cast a glance over the fence of your blogosphere and do the following:

1. Enter someone ELSE to win this giveaway by posting their blog url. That's right: YOU CANNOT ENTER YOUR OWN BLOG. (You certainly cannot enter your own blog 14 times, *clears throat* Kristin.) You can enter multiple blog urls on INDIVIDUAL COMMENTS.

2. Post on that lucky person's blog that you have entered them in this fantastic giveaway and suggest that they, in turn, try to win you a cruise or send you a pack of scratch off lottery tickets or AT THE VERY LEAST enter your blog in exchange for the fact that you went to allllll that trouble on their behalf.

3. Australia: you are welcome to play along, but if you nominate someone else in Australia and they win, they will have to retrieve their prize in person. (Maybe Blu will offer another airplane ticket giveaway.) Everyone else in the USA, I will ship you your prize via UPS.

4. Entries can be posted up until Midnight Monday October 6; after that YOU SHOULD BE IN BED. Winner will be announced Tuesday October 7.

5. If comments on this post reach 50 or more, the person who nominated the winner will ALSO WIN A SUPER SPECIAL PRIZE. Because one good deed deserves another.

Happy Friday everybody!!!!

Home

First of all: big shout out to THE JEWISH RELIGION. Thank you for that ever-changing, unpredictable, moon based (?) calendar of yours that this year allowed us the opportunity to escape for five full days because New York Public Schools are closed. You rock! And if you could make Rosh Hashanna fall on the second Thursday of the end of September next year that would be just fabulous.

This was our first trip to Vermont. We chose to go there because according to Google Analytics, it is one of 2 states (North Dakota being the other one) in which I did not have A SINGLE READER. So the choice was clear: either start writing more about cows and syrup, or get my butt out there. North Dakota, stop worrying; I'm not coming. You are too far away and I don't even know what you are known for. (Urguay: I see you! Thanks for reading!)

We did lots of leaf peeping and tons of swimming in hotel pools. We toured the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory and went 156 feet underground into the Howe Caverns. One of the best parts of the cave tour was coming upon the River Styxx. CBoy (a fan of Greek mythology) asked if that meant we were in Hell. I told him we had already been to Hell and back, and that Hell was otherwise known as Great Adventure Dressed Up For Halloween.

I kept hoping something exciting would happen that would give me blog fodder, but sadly, I don't feel inspired to write about OUTLET SHOPPING. So apologies my dear readers (especially you, Vermont) that have come here thinking I would have anything to say other than maple syrup and black and white cows are Simply Awesome.

I do have a friend who has something to say. His name is David Kramer and he is Boobs Mitchell's better half. He is an amazing artist and I would love if you would join me in welcoming him to the blogsphere by leaving a comment on his new blog www.toothlessalcoholic.blogspot.com Please say that i sent you because the responsibility of making him quit his day job is weighing o so heavy on these shoulders o mine.